African Folklore
Board of Editorial Consultants
Dan Ben-Amos
University of Pennsylvania
† Daniel Crowley
† Gerald Davis
Ruth Finnegan
The Open University (UK)
Rachel Fretz
University of California, Los Angeles
Micheline Galley
Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique (France)
Veronika Görög-Karady
Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique (France)
Lee Haring
Brooklyn College of the City University of New York (Emeritus)
Harold Schueb
University of Wisconsin
Ruth Stone
Indiana University
African Folklore
An Encyclopedia
Philip M.Peek and Kwesi Yankah, Editors
Routledge
New York London
Editorial Staff
Development Editor: Kristen Holt
Production Editor: Jeanne Shu
Editorial Assistant: Mary Funchion
Published in 2004 by Routledge 29 West 35th Street New York, NY 10001–2299
http://www.routledge-ny.com/
Published in Great Britain by Routledge 11 New Fetter Lane London EC4P 4EE
http://www.routledge.co.uk/
Routledge is an imprint of Taylor & Francis Books, Inc.
This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2005.
“To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis
or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to
http://www.ebookstore.tandf.co.uk/.”
Copyright © 2004 by Philip M.Peek and Kwesi Yankah.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or
by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including
photocopying and recording, or in any information storage and retrieval system, without permission
in writing from the publisher.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
African folklore: an encyclopedia/Philip M.Peek and Kwesi Yankah, editors. p. cm. Includes
bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-415-93933-X (HB: alk.paper) 1. Folklore—
Africa—Encyclopedias. 2. Africa—Social life and customs—Encyclopedias. I. Peek, Philip M. II.
Yankah, Kwesi. GR350.A33 2003 398’.096’03—dc21 2003007200
ISBN 0-203-49314-1 Master e-book ISBN
ISBN 0-203-57605-5 (Adobe e-Reader Format)
ISBN 0-415-93933-X (Print Edition)
To Our Teachers:
William Bascom, Richard Bauman, Alan Dundes, Henry Glassie, John McDowell, Alan
Merriam, John C.Messenger, and Roy Sieber
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Introduction
viii
List of Contributors
xix
List of Entries
Maps
Entries A to Z
xxxiii
xliii
1
Appendix : African Studies Centers and Libraries in the USA and Africa
1066
Appendix : Field and Broadcast Sound Recording Collections at the Indiana
University Archives of Traditional Music (ATM)
Appendix : Filmography
1068
1091
Appendix : Sample of Earlier Dissertations and Theses on African Folklore At 1101
U.S. Institutions
Index
1104
INTRODUCTION
The Continent of Africa
Most Africanists, and most Africans, consider the continent of Africa and its peoples as a
whole and comprehensive entity. There are thousands of different ethnic groups living on
this extraordinarily diverse continent, many of which have been affected by the same
issues and have thus developed overlapping cultural practices.
A consideration of sub-Saharan Africa and North Africa together does not necessarily
ignore their individual traits. Rather, such a scholarly treatment simply acknowledges
geographical and historical realities. North Africa has long been part of Saharan and subSaharan Africa. Commerce and conflict marked ancient Egypt’s relations with peoples to
the south for centuries. Since the seventh century, scholars, traders, and administrators
have disseminated the Arabic language and the Islamic religion across North Africa and
the Sahara and down the East African coast. Today, the Organization of African Unity
(OAU) recognizes the common concerns shared by African nations.
To non-Africans, the continent can appear impenetrable. Yet for those living on the
continent, movement across regions has always been relatively easy. Many peoples have
maintained close contact for centuries; consequently, most Africans are multilingual.
Coastal, trans-Saharan, and interior trade and travel have ensured that African peoples
share and exchange not only language but material goods, intellectual concepts, and
cultural traditions.
Earlier studies of African peoples exaggerated both their similarities and their
differences. Current scholarship does not presume a cohesive, unproblematic
“Africanaity,” but it does recognize that African cultures share significant historical and
cultural experiences. One can accept a degree of commonality while acknowledging the
existence of internal differences. Earlier scholarship made too many broad
generalizations about African cultures, but that does not mean that the existence of shared
transnational or transethnic traits should be ignored today.
Another aspect of this issue is that, periodically, one must submit specific cultures to
comparison. One can never know what is or is not unique, or even meaningful, in cultural
studies if one never compares among cultures. For example, research has confirmed that
many African peoples tell dilemma tales (stories that end with questions, not answers).
But the question remains, why are there more dilemma tales told in Africa than anywhere
else in the world?
The Study of African Folklore
For these reasons, we welcome the opportunity to present material that spans the whole
African continent and hundreds of cultures in a single volume, thereby emphasizing both
the singularities and commonalities of African folklore traditions.
The discipline of folklore has been shadowed for too many years by debates over
terminology and the scope of the field. Initially, in Europe, the term folklore referred
literally to the “lore” of the “folk,” that is, the illiterate members of a literate society; for
some, that definition still holds. Folklore studies were essential to the European
nationalist movements of the nineteenth century. Folklore scholarship, although perhaps
not specifically named as such, is present in the earliest developmental stages of
anthropology in Europe and the United States; even the earliest psychoanalytic research
of Freud and Jung relied heavily on the study of folktales and other forms of folklore.
The scope of folklore study has continued to expand in the United States. In the
nineteenth century, European-based scholarship developed the discipline, but since the
middle of the twentieth century, research based in the United States has continued to
expand the boundaries of folklore study. The editors’ concept of folklore scholarship in
Africa is broad, in keeping with current thought in the United States, and this expansive
position is reflected by African Folklore: An Encyclopedia. The relevance and impact of
contexts such the electronic media, urban settings, and contemporary life in general are
considered repeatedly in the entries.
The question of who exactly constitute the “folk” is no longer of concern to
contemporary folklorists. Although it may be simplistic to respond that “we are all folk,”
most scholars do, essentially, assume that position. Nevertheless, folklore study’s
traditionally narrow scope when applied to a European context needs some clarification
and contextualization when applied to an African setting. Most folklorists presumably
consider their position as less comprehensive than the classic anthropologists’ study of
“whole” cultures (which even they shy away from today); they focus instead on
subgroups within a cultural whole, or, as is perhaps more apt today, on groups within the
larger nation state. The traditional focus on rural peoples has given way to an
acknowledgement of the necessity of studying folklore in urban contexts as well.
Tradition generally signified an uncritical adherence to ancient cultural ways and
tended to be considered in opposition to “contemporary” or “modern” practices. Current
scholarship appreciates that all human groups are guided by traditions that may have
ancient or recent origins. Equally, tradition in contemporary Africa need no longer
depend exclusively on oral transmission but may be carried by any and all media, as
demonstrated in papers compiled from the 1998 conference on African oral literature,
held in South Africa. The conference focused on oral literature within contemporary
African contexts (Kaschula 2001).
It is generally recognized today that any accepted pattern of behavior, way of
speaking, or complex of ideas that shape action can be called a “tradition,” regardless of
the length of time it has been in existence.
In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the “lore” of folklore generally
referred to folktales. What little folklore scholarship there was in Africa was largely
limited to ancient myths and animal tales. These genres are significant, but their
continued appearance in collections far exceeds their relative importance among all the
forms of folklore in African cultures. Today, most folklorists view their subject matter
along the lines of European folklife studies and anthropologists’ “expressive behavior”
studies. The spoken arts are but one among many forms of cultural expression of interest
to folklorists.
Nevertheless, even with this much broader scope, one must be continually aware of
the problem of considering African genres in European terms. There are considerable—
and intriguing—differences between the typologies of different peoples. For example, the
Isoko of the Niger Delta have no myths, but they have three different types of proverbs.
The Edo of Benin City, also in southern Nigeria, transform a factual prose narrative into a
fictional one by adding songs. The fieldworker has to be continually alert to defining
features of the many spoken arts genres, as well as to the fascinating overlaps of various
media. Among the peoples of West Africa, we often find proverbs illustrated on cloth and
carved on “linguist’s staffs.” The graphic writing of nsibidi (of southeastern Nigeria) can
be represented in gestures, costumes, cloth, and two-dimensional inscriptions. Proverbs
can be drummed or carved as well as spoken. Myths of origin and legends of migration
may not be told verbally but are acted out in masquerades. Cloth “speaks” by depicting a
proverb in its pattern, or demonstrating social status by the wearer’s style of wrapping.
The editors accept the term verbal arts as encompassing the vast range of arts based
around verbal performance. Verbal arts avoids placing the derivative form in the primary
position. Oral literature, therefore, presents a bit of a reversal (whereas literary orature
might be the most accurate representation of what folklorists refer to and study).
Nevertheless, many folklorists have grown quite accustomed to such terminology and
present cogent arguments in its favor; several such arguments are present in this volume.
Therefore, we have encouraged our contributors to use the terms they prefer. We
recommend readers refer to entries by Ruth Finnegan, Isidore Okpewho, Harold Scheub,
and Kwesi Yankah for further discussion of terminology. Readers may find entries on the
histories of folklore scholarship in France, Germany, Japan, and Portugal helpful and
informative as well, as they too address terminological debates. Several topical entries,
such as “Typology and Performance in the Study of Prose Narratives in Africa,” and
“Performance Studies and African Folklore Research” further develop these academic
issues, as do numerous entries treating oral narratives and oral traditions.
The large number of entries on various verbal art forms (such as epics, riddles,
political oratory, and children’s songs) also reminds us not only of the creativity and
diversity of human speech forms (in relation to other cultural expressions) but to the
primacy of the heard, as opposed to the seen, world. Sound, not sight, seems most
essential in many African societies. Several folklorists have attempted to reorient their
scholarship in recognition of this by referring to auditory arts (Peek 1994), orature
(Haring 1994), or auriture (Coplan 1994). These terms attempt to overcome the
limitations of our overwhelmingly visually oriented language.
In addition, we must note that silence, the absence of human speech and sound, is
emphatically “learned” behavior, as opposed to being natural. In other words, speech and
sound are so important that their absence can be felt (Peek 2000; Yankah 1998).
One reality in the scholarship of the spoken word is that we have never resolved the
dilemma of how best to represent speech on paper, how to precisely transcribe orality.
We cannot enter that debate fully here, but we do wish to observe that there have been
attempts, though few, to at least provide original African texts with their translations in
European languages.
Outdated reliance on an older definition of folklore, which equates the field with the
study of spoken arts only, ignores the range of other expressive genres, such as material
forms and ritual behavior. Most would accept Bascom’s classification of myths, legends,
and folktales as constituting prose narratives, a grouping that is then encompassed by the
term verbal art, which in turn is encapsulated by folklore (as discussed above), with
culture forming the outermost category.
The other issue related to definitions is scope of topics. As the editors of African
Folklore: An Encyclopedia, we are far more concerned with process than isolated
product. The most emphatic demonstration of that emphasis here is the large number of
entries on aspects of performance. Many folklorists have adopted a a dramatalurgical
approach to all forms of verbal arts, from formal oratory to personal narratives, from
puppet play scripts to children’s riddling sessions. Lists of proverbs severed from their
meaning, removed from a context of use, no longer suffice.
We conclude this part of our introduction with a definition of folklore that we believe
reflects the breadth and depth of current folklore scholarship: Folklore is those esoteric
traditions (oral, customary, or material) expressed in the form of artistic communication
used as operational culture by a group within the larger society (primarily to provide
group identity and homogeneity).
This definition accommodates the appropriate scope of folklore studies without
becoming universalist. The emphasis is on artistic communication (for many, the most
apt minimal definition of folklore) and on the “usefulness” of these esoteric traditions.
Thus, we must understand the emic (culture-specific) aspects first, before moving to the
etic (comparative “universal”) dimensions. Although not available to, or understood by,
the whole cultural group (thus we speak of esoteric vs. exoteric levels), these traditions
serve critical purposes of group identification for some within that group. This
introduces, intentionally, a functional dimension; but it is functional for the group itself.
This must be emphasized because much attention paid folklore is by those outside a
group seeking to use the group’s traditions for their purposes, be it academic,
governmental, or commercial. Entries that address folklore and education, government
attitudes towards dancing troupes, theater for development, and tourist arts reveal the
use—and abuse—of folklore by outsiders.
One of the major strengths of this volume is the breadth of accomplished contributors.
Nearly one-third of the scholars represented in African Folklore: An Encyclopedia are
African, and over one-half of them currently teach in Africa. Approximately one-half of
the contributors are from the United States, but a large number also hail from Europe, the
Americas, and the Middle East. In addition to geographical breadth, we have scholars of
many different disciplines and backgrounds. The contributors to African Folklore: An
Encyclopedia include both those senior scholars who defined the field and the younger
scholars who are shaping it today.
“In the beginning was the Word…”
The importance of human speech in African cultures cannot be overemphasized. This
primacy of the human voice and of the exchange of life through words is demonstrated
over and over again in Africa. Although we did not set out to focus on orality, creative
speech, verbal arts, and so on, the importance of speech was continually apparent. Just
skimming our list of entries, the reader will immediately notice how many entries address
speech and the spoken arts. African life starts with naming traditions and prayers and
continues through greetings and songs, libations and lullabies, praise names and insults,
and funeral orations and spirit possession. Informal gossip and formal oratory, individual
speech and epics of empires—the scope of artful speech is endless. One must even
consider speech about speech (metafolklore), surrogate languages (drum languages and
gestures), and the absence of speech in culturally constructed silences. Electronic media
has simply expanded the realm of performed speech and song even further.
A problem continuing to face African folklore scholars is that of how best to represent
speech on paper, that is, how to move from orality to the literary. Space does not permit a
full discussion of that issue here, but we do wish to observe that there have been attempts,
though few, to at least provide translations of original texts in European languages.
Several series of publications have tried, such as Classiques Africaines, some of the
Oxford Library of African Literature, and the ILCAA series from Japan. Unfortunately,
the harsh realities of publishing costs seem to have weighed too heavily against such
worthy efforts. Nevertheless, local writers and scholars throughout Africa publish in local
languages, and continued pressure by academics does ensure some representation of
African languages in illustrative texts, though perhaps only as appendices. We can never
have enough records in Africa’s many complex languages and dialects.
An important component of this complex of the primacy of speech and the power of
the word in Africa is the fact that most Africans are multilingual. Without getting into
debates about how (and whether) language determines thought and worldview, we simply
wish to acknowledge a relationship of some kind between speech, language, and thought;
thus, one who speaks several languages necessarily possesses, or has access to, several
viewpoints.
The African Diaspora
For centuries the significance of the African heritage of the countries and peoples of the
Americas has been ignored. Indeed, one could say that even the existence of this heritage
has been challenged. At one time many assumed that Africans in the Americas had lost
virtually all of their traditional culture during the horrors of the Middle Passage and
enslavement in the Americas. This same argument then maintained that African
American culture was only comprised of imitations of European traditions. Although one
can well understand how that might have happened, we now know that many African
traditions did survive. Fortunately, we are well beyond this perspective today, but the
breadth and depth of the debt of the Americas to Africa should be more widely
recognized. Some of our African American entries are cited under “Diaspora,” while
others are listed by genre, such as musical instruments, basketry, or religions. We find
ancient African roots in the Gullah dialect of the Georgia Sea Islands and the hinterland
villages of Suriname. There are also the modern revitalization movements of
communities such as Oyo Tunji Village in South Carolina. Even the recent “invention” of
Kwanzaa must be considered. The majority of examples are from the Americas, but
Africans elsewhere, such as the United Kingdom, are included for discussion as well.
Again, we can only provide a representative sampling in covering the vast and vital
heritage of African folklore. In this work we can only suggest the variety of arts, beliefs,
and cultural practices that continue to act as vital forms of expression for millions of
Americans (we use the term Americans in its full meaning). The African heritage is
primarily voiced and lived by African American peoples, from Brazil to Jamaica, from
Guyana to Nova Scotia, but it is not exclusively theirs. As the reader will find, there are
many aspects of the African heritage that are shared by the whole of the Americas, no
matter the ethnic origins of the practitioners in question. Many African American
traditions have important European components, such as the Catholic elements of Haitian
Vodou, but in most cases the essential parts are clearly African in origin. And many
forms of cultural expression in the Americas have now, in turn, affected African cultures:
perhaps music provides the clearest examples, such as Ghanaian reggae and Liberian rap
groups.
Black Atlantic English has been accepted by linguists as an appropriate label for the
English spoken by Africans and African descendants in the United States, England, West
Africa, and the Caribbean. This presents yet another means by which to link peoples of
Africa and the diaspora.
The variety of forms of African American folklore is striking, as is the continuing
elaboration of these African elements. As with African traditions, we are struck by the
creativity displayed in the continued adherence to aspects of the African heritage.
Carnival, for example, has become virtually a worldwide phenomenon, after developing
among Africans in the Caribbean and Brazil. It now forms the base of Europe’s largest
festival, the Notting Hill Carnival in London; it is also celebrated in Brooklyn, New
York, and Toronto, Canada, among other places. Body arts and front yards, foods and
folktales, quilts and religions, music and clothing—virtually every aspect of life now has
its rightly recognized African elements. Some may be recent “traditions,” such as the
popularity of Ghanaian kente cloth or Malian bogolan cloth, but more often than not we
find centuries of practice behind these customs.
It should also be noted that some elements of “American” culture that some hold close
to “our” image are, at root, African. Surely “American” music, from the banjo to hip-hop,
owes its essence to Africa. So too are we indebted to Africa for that wonderful institution,
the front porch!
It is amazing to think that it was not until the late 1960s that the African heritage of
the Americas was recognized even by the scholarly community. It is a very recent
scholarship, and its direction of development is noteworthy. All of the major early
scholars of African folklore studied in both Africa and the Americas. All recognized that
they had to turn to Africa to understand their American subjects. Melville J.Herskovits in
Haiti, William Bascom in Cuba, Daniel Crowley in Trinidad: each of these turned to
Africa in order to complement and deepen his research in the Americas. In fact, many
contemporary Africanists and African Americanists continue to “cross-over” from Africa
to the Americas, and vice versa, today.
We are fortunate to have exemplary essays from major scholars of the African
American heritage in this volume, and yet, as all would admit, there is so much more to
be said. We need to distinguish that the African heritage of the Americas is not simply an
historical matter, it is an ongoing, ever-changing phenomenon. From the seventeenth
century until today, Africa influenced, and continues to influence, the Americas, in subtle
matters such as voice inflection, and in total complexes such as Vodou and Santeria.
There are African communities in the Americas, such as Oyo Tunji, as well as those in
places such as Brazil and Surinam that have been in existence for centuries, initiated by
escaped slave kingdoms.
There are myriad instances of continuity and creativity, retentions of the old alongside
invention of the new. The African heritage of the Americas, especially in the arts, is one
of deep roots and startling freshness. It is irrepressible and undeniable.
Distribution
As editors of a volume spanning the vast topic of African folklore, we have come to
realize that, while we could not address every single African culture, we could present a
representative, and still detailed, sample of African folklore culture. African Folklore: An
Encyclopedia contains entries on urban and rural folklore, on pastoralists and farmers, on
women and men, on visual and verbal arts, and much more. Only those who have tried to
create an encyclopedia know that one can never be truly encyclopedic. Especially if one
is seeking to represent a whole continent, one seems doomed to failure. But we are
confident that we have succeeded in our effort to provide representation of the peoples of
Africa and their forms of folklore that gives an accurate and extensive sense of the
variety of forms and traditions active in Africa.
Organization of the Book
There are over three hundred entries in African Folklore: An Encyclopedia. Given the
range and scope of these entries, several tools have been employed to ensure easy
navigation of the volume, and access to essential information. These include:
• An alphabetical list of all entries.
• A comprehensive index.
• The following appendixes:
• A detailed filmography of documentary films on Africa.
• The complete holdings of the Archives of Traditional Music at Indiana University.
• A list of early M.A.s and Ph.D.s in African folklore.
• A survey of African Studies Centers and Libraries in the United States and Africa.
• Eight different regional surveys on the major folklore forms of those areas, along with
comment on the study of those forms.
• Accompanying maps highlighting major ethnic groups.
• Brief surveys of African countries providing basic statistics, historical notes, references
to major ethnic groups and cultural issues, and commentary on current problems in
those countries. Population numbers are United Nations estimates for the year 2000.
• Extensive use of cross-references at the end of nearly every entry, and over seventy
blind entries.
• There are approximately one hundred black and white photos accompanying various
entries. The majority of these were taken by the contributors themselves during
periods of field research. They enrich the writing and provide visual examples of the
concepts, practices, art forms, and objects discussed.
African Folklore: An Encyclopedia contains regional surveys and thematic groupings, as
well as many individual entries on various peoples. Thus, it represents much of Africa
and gives the uninitiated a good introduction to African folklore.
Although we have a number of survey essays (e.g., on epics, medicine, performance,
and religion), most are culture-specific entries with a focus on some aspect of folklore,
such as visual arts, healing, or cultural identity. While many forms of folklore are found
in most cultures, not all peoples elaborate the same expressive forms to the same extent;
thus, joking relationships, beadwork, or praise poetry are not found universally. There are
large subgroupings that treat women’s folklore, dynamics of performance, theater, and
musical expression. Although we cannot say something about every group, we have
included information on rural and urban peoples, forest and grasslands, hunters and
pastoralists, and farmers and fisherfolk, from the Ethiopian Highlands to the Zanzibar
coast, from the Sahara to the Niger Delta. Thus, the volume is not absolutely
comprehensive, but it is representative of African peoples. While we could not present
full surveys of all folklore forms among all major ethnic groups, most peoples are
represented somehow and can be traced through the index and cross-referencing.
Conclusion
Tragically, we cannot end without observing the horrible impact on African peoples’
lives of the seemingly unending series of droughts, dictators, and disasters, of the
staggering loss of life to AIDS, and of continuing political and military disruptions. In
many cases, one must acknowledge the very real loss of culture as well as lives. Although
there are many cases where traditions have continued to serve the people, such as Iteso
children using traditional folktales to sort out their disrupted lives, there are other cases
where ceremonies have not been performed in so long that most have forgotten them.
In the midst of chaos in Liberia, Rwanda, Ethiopia, and Angola, people persevere.
They may even develop new forms of folklore. This should not surprise us, as folklore is
comprised of creative expressions of life and meaning and is essential to purposeful
existence; thus it persists in even the most dire situations.
We invite the reader to use this volume to find answers to specific questions, as well
as to formulate new questions and then seek their answers, too. We hope that, in your use
of this volume, you are as excited by this material as we have been in bringing it together
in this volume.
We give special thanks to our Advisory Board members Dan Ben-Amos, Daniel
Crowley, Gerald Davis, Ruth Finnegan, Rachel Fretz, Micheline Galley, Veronika
Görög-Karady, Lee Haring, Harold Schueb, and Ruth Stone.
Creating an encyclopedia is an exhilarating yet exasperating project that involves
many people. We have first acknowledged those teachers who originally guided us and
those colleagues who aided us in the current endeavor. In a very real sense, we thank all
of our contributors not only for their excellent entries but for their support and patience as
we developed the project. Several colleagues, notably Frances Harding and David
Samper, led us to other contributors. We must next acknowledge those colleagues who
tragically passed away during the course of this project: Kofi Agovi, T.K.Biaya, Daniel
Crowley, and Gerald Davis.
Over the years, many students from Drew University aided with manuscript
preparation. Our sincere thanks to Jennifer Joyce for preparing most of the country
entries. We must also acknowledge those who toiled with manuscript in various states of
repair: Katie Boswell, Megan McBride, Tara Ondra, Janet Wong, Sandra Yoshida, and
Andrea Zaia. Another area of critical aid was that of translation—sincere thanks to
Kristine Aurbakken and Jerry Vogel.
We also thank the many editors who encouraged us over the years, first with Garland,
then with Routledge Reference. Most especially we thank those who helped us complete
this project: Laura Smid, Kate Aker, Kristen Holt, Mary Funchion, and Jeanne Shu.
Much needed time and facilities for final manuscript preparation were provided by a
fellowship at the Sainsbury Research Unit for the Arts of Africa, Oceania, and the
Americas, University of East Anglia, Norwich, England. Sincerest thanks as well to those
who provided shelter during the final stages: Lee and Sylvia Pollock, Beverly Ben-Salem,
the Folklore and Folklife Department at the University of Pennsylvania, and the
University of Ghana.
And, as always, our appreciation for our long-suffering spouses, Pat and Victoria,
must be acknowledged.
PHILIP M.PEEK AND KWESI YANKAH
References
Coplan, David B.1994. In the Time of Cannibals: The Word Music of South Africa’s Basotho
Migrants. Johannesburg: Witwaterstand University Press.
Haring, Lee, ed. 1994. African Oral Traditions. Oral Tradition (special issue), 9:1.
Kaschula, Russell. 2001. African Oral Literature: Functions in Contemporary Contexts.
Claremont, South Africa: New Africa Books.
Peek, Philip M. 1981. The Power of Words in African Verbal Arts. Journal of American Folklore
94: 371.
Peek, Philip M. 1994. The Sounds of Silence: Cross-World Communication and the Auditory Arts
in African Societies. American Ethnologist 21: 3.
Peek, Philip M. 2000. Re-Sounding Silences. In Sound, ed. P.Kruth and H.Stobart. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press.
Yankah, Kwesi. 1986. Beyond the Spoken Word: Aural Literature in Africa. In Cross Rhythms 2.
ed. Daniel Avorgbedor and Kwesi Yankah. Papers in African Folklore. Bloomington: Trickster
Press.
Yankah, Kwesi 1995. Speaking for the Chief: Okyeame and the Politics of Akan Royal Oratory.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Yankah, Kwesi. 1998. Free Speech in Traditional Society: The Cultural Foundations of
Communication in Contemporary Ghana. Accra: Ghana Universities Press.
LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS
David Adu-Amankwah
Department of Folklore and Ethnomusicology
Indiana University
Kofi Agawu
Department of Music
Princeton University
† Kofi Agovi
Ali Jimale Ahmed
Department of Comparative Literature
Queens College and the City University of New York Graduate Center
Akinsola Akiwowo
Sociology and Anthropology (Emeritas) University of Ife (Nigeria)
E.J.Alagoa
Department of History
University of Port Harcourt
Ali B.Ali-Dinar
African Studies Center
University of Pennsylvania
Joe Amoako
Department of English
Delaware State University
Alfred Anangwe
Department of Sociology and Anthropology (Emeritus)
University of Ife (Nigeria)
Martha G.Anderson
Division of Art History, School of Art and Design
Alfred University
Akosua Anyidoho
Department of Linguistics
University of Ghana
Mary Jo Arnold!
Department of Anthropology, National Museum of Natural History
Smithsonian Institution
Lisa Aronson
Department of Art and Art History
Skidmore College
Daniel K.Avorgbedor
School of Music
Ohio State University
Senait Bahta
Department of Anthropology
University of Asmara (Eritrea)
Karin Barber
Centre for West African Studies
University of Birmingham (UK)
Robert Baron
Folk Arts
New York State Council on the Arts
Philippe Beaujard
Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique (France)
Centre d’Études Africaines, École des Hautes Etudes en Sciences Sociales
Stephen Belcher
Independent Scholar
Marla C.Berns
Fowler Museum of Cultural History
University of California, Los Angeles
Rima Berns-McGown
Independent Scholar
Judith Bettelheim
Department of Art
San Francisco State University
† T.K.Biaya
Daniel P.Biebuyck
Anthropology and Humanities (Emeritus)
University of Delaware
David A.Brinkley
National Museum of African Art
Smithsonian Institution
Ulrich Braukämper
Institute of Ethnology
University of Göttingen (Germany)
David H.Brown
W.E.B.Du Bois Institute for Afro-American Research
Harvard University
Karen McCarthy Brown
Religion and Society, Graduate School
Drew University
Richard Allen Burns
Department of English and Philosophy
Arkansas State University
John W.Burton
Department of Anthropology
Connecticut College
Mohamed El-Mahdi Bushra
Department of Folklore
University of Khartoum (Sudan)
Geneviève Calame-Griaule
Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique (France)
Elizabeth L.Cameron
Department of Art History
University of California, Santa Cruz
Robert Cancel
Department of Literature
University of California, San Diego
Margret Carey
Bead Study Trust Newsletter
Museum Ethnographers Group
Amanda Carlson
Department of Visual Arts
University of Dayton
S.Terry Childs
Archaeology and Cultural Resources
National Park Service
Cati Coe
Department of Sociology, Anthropology, and Criminal Justice
Rutgers University
Jean-Paul Colleyn
Centre d’Études Africaines
École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales (France)
John Collins
Music Department, School of Performing Arts
University of Ghana
Cecelia Conway
Department of English
Appalachian State University
Donald Cosentino
World Arts Program
University of California, Los Angeles
† Daniel Crowley
† Gerald Davis
Jo de Berry
Save the Children
Alex de Voogt
School of Asian, African, and Amerindian Studies
Leiden University (The Netherlands)
Jean Derive
LLACAN/UFR Lettres, Langues, Sciences Humaines
Université de Savoie (France)
Boureima Tiekoroni Diamitani
West African Museums Program (Senegal)
Esi Dogbe
Department of Pan-African Studies
University of Louisville
Christiano Henrique Ribeiro dos Santos
Universidade do Estado do Rio de Janiero
Centro de Ciencias Sociais, Program de Estudos e Debates dos Povos Africanos e
Afro-Americanos
Elom Dovlo
Department for the Study of Religions
University of Ghana
Margaret Thompson Drewal
Department of Theater and Performance Studies
Northwestern University
Caleb Dube
Department of Sociology
DePaul University
Ennis B.Edmonds
Pan-African Studies Program
Barnard College, Columbia University
Lillie Johnson Edwards
Department of History
Drew University
Joanne B.Eicher
Department of Design, Housing, and Apparel
University of Minnesota
Hasan M.El-Shamy
Folklore Institute
Indiana University
Paul Faber
KIT Tropenmuseum (The Netherlands)
Kayode Fanilola
Foreign Language Department
Morgan State University
Ruth Finnegan
Faculty of Social Sciences
The Open University (UK)
Barbara Frank
Department of Art
State University of New York at Stony Brook
Marion Frank-Wilson
Librarian for African Studies
Indiana University
Rachel I.Fretz
Writing Program
University of California, Los Angeles
Graham Furniss
School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS)
University of London
Paulette Galand-Pernet
Centre Nationale la Recherche Scientiftque
Unite de Recherche Littérature Orale Arabo-Berbère (France)
John G.Galaty
Department of Anthropology
McGill University
Micheline Galley
Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique (France)
Michelle Gilbert
Department of Fine Arts and International Studies Program
Trinity College
Veronika Görög-Karady
Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique (France)
George P.Hagan
Institute of African Studies
University of Ghana
Thomas A.Hale
Department of Comparative Literature
Pennsylvania State University
Paul W.Hanson
Ursuline College
Frances Harding
School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS)
University of London
Lee Haring
Department of English (Emeritus)
Brooklyn College of the City University of New York
Dunja Hersak
Department of Art History
Université Libre de Bruxelles (Belgium)
Isabel Hofmeyr
Department of African Literature
University of Witwatersrand (South Africa)
Jarita C.Holbrook
Bureau of Applied Research in Anthropology
University of Arizona
Linda Hunter
Department of African Languages and Literature
University of Wisconsin
Abdullahi Ali Ibrahim
Department of History
University of Missouri
dele jegede
Art Department
Indiana State University
Jennifer Joyce
Columbia University
Egara Kabaji
Department of Literature
Moi University (Kenya)
Russell H.Kaschula
Bureau for African Research and Documentation
University of Transkei (South Africa)
David Kerr
Department of English
University of Botswana
E.Kezilahabi
Department of African Languages and Literature
University of Botswana
Doreen Helen Klassen
Department of Social Science
Sir Wilfred Grenfell College
Memorial University of Newfoundland
Corinne A.Kratz
Center for the Study of Public Scholarship
Emory University
Alisa LaGamma
Arts of Africa, Oceania, and the Americas
Museum of Metropolitan Art
Jérôme Lentin
Department of Arabic
Institut National des Langues et Civilisations Orientales (France)
Edward Lifschitz
National Museum of African Art
Smithsonian Institution
Petros Mafika Lubisi
Department of African Languages
University of Zululand (South Africa)
Elísio Macamo
Department of Sociology
University of Bayreuth (Germany)
Yousif Hasan Mandani
Department of Folklore
Institute of African and Asian Studies
University of Khartoum (Sudan)
Minette Mans
Performing Arts Department
University of Namibia
Adeline Masquelier
Department of Anthropology
Tulane University
Daniel Mato
Department of Art History
University of Calgary
Joseph L.Mbele
Department of English
St. Olaf College
Michael McGovern
African Studies
Emory University
Patrick McNaughton
Department of Art
Indiana University
John C.Messenger
Department of Anthropology, College of Social and Behavioral Sciences (Emeritus)
Ohio State University
John Middleton
Department of Anthropology (Emeritus)
Yale University
Mustafa Kernel Mirzeler
Africana Studies
Western Michigan University
Farah Eisa Mohamed
Institute of African and Asian Studies
University of Khartoum (Sudan)
Makali I.Mokitimi
Department of African Languages
University of South Africa
Benson A.Mulemi
Department of Anthropology
The Catholic University of Eastern Africa
Diana Baird N’Diaye
Center for Folklife and Cultural Heritage
Smithsonian Institution
Adrien N.Ngudiankama
Institute of Education
University of London
Isak Niehaus
Department of Anthropology and Archaeology
University of Pretoria (South Africa)
Imeyan A.Noah
Department of Languages and Linguistics
University of Calabar (Nigeria)
Andrew J.Noss
Wildlife Conservation Society (Bolivia)
Kathleen Jenabu Noss
Department of Ethnomusicology
University of California, Los Angeles
Philip A.Noss
United Bible Societies (UK)
Samuel Gyasi Obeng
Department of Linguistics
Indiana University
Ernest Okello Ogwang
Department of Literature
Makere University (Uganda)
Isidore Okpewho
Department of Afro-American and African Studies
State University of New York at Binghamton
Mikelle Smith Omari-Tunkara
School of Art and Art History
University of Arizona
Jeff Opland
Brooke Hall
Charter House School
Kofi A.Opoku
Department of Religion
LaFayette College
Simon Ottenberg
Anthropology Department (Emeritus)
University of Washington
Oyekan Owomoyela
Department of English
University of Nebraska
B.Okíntúndé Oyàtádé
School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS)
University of London
Wade Patterson
Program Officer
New Mexico Enlowment for the Humanities
Barry Lee Pearson
English Department
University of Maryland
E.A.Péri
Department for International Development (UK)
Philip M.Peek
Department of Anthropology
Drew University
Alec J.C.Pongweni
Department of English
University of Botswana
Susan J.Rasmussen
Department of Anthropology
University of Houston
Daniel B.Reed
Archives of Traditional Music
Indiana University
Allen F.Roberts
African Studies Center
University of California, Los Angeles
Katherine Roberts
Folklore Institute
Indiana University
Mary Nooter Roberts
Fowler Museum
University of California, Los Angeles
Hagar Salamon
Department of Jewish and Comparative Folklore
The Hebrew University (Israel)
David A.Samper
Department of Folklore and Folklife
University of Pennsylvania
Harold Scheub
Department of African Languages and Literature
University of Wisconsin
Dorothea E.Schulz
Institute of Ethnology
Free University (Germany)
Gerhard Seibert
Centro de Estudos Africanos e Asiáticos (Portugal)
Christiane Seydou
Centre National de la Recherche Scientiftque (France)
Amnon Shiloah
Department of Musicology
The Hebrew University (Israel)
Sonia Silva
Independent Scholar
Arthur K.Spears
Anthropology Department
City College, City University of New York
Debra Spitulnik
Department of Anthropology
Emory University
Christopher B.Steiner
Department of Art History
Connecticut College
Phillips Stevens Jr.
Department of Anthropology
State University of New York at Buffalo
Bradford Strickland
Postdoctoral fellow
American Association for the Advancement of Science
Beverly J.Stoeltje
Department of Anthropology
Indiana University
Esi Sutherland-Addy
Institute of African Studies
University of Ghana
Tonya Taylor
Department of Folklore and Folklife
University of Pennsylvania
Hayley S.Thomas
Assistant Dean, Undergraduate College
Bryn Mawr College
Farouk Topan
School of Oriental and African Studies
University of London
Mary Arnold Twining
English Department
Clark Atlanta University
John Michael Vlach
American Studies Department
George Washington University
Jerome Vogel
Drew University and the Museum for African Art
Mbugua wa-Mungai
Institute of Jewish Studies, Faculty of Humanities
Hebrew University of Jerusalem (Israel)
Richard M.Wafula
Folklore Institute
Indiana University
Maude Southwell Wahlman
Department of Art and Art History
University of Missouri-Kansas City
Michael Wainaina
Literature Department
Kenyatta University (Kenya)
Maureen Warner-Lewis
Department of Literatures in English
University of the West Indies (Jamaica)
Yael Warshel
Department of Communication
University of California, San Diego
Richard Westmacott
School of Environmental Design
University of Georgia
Robert W.White
Department of Anthropology
University of Montreal
Kwesi Yankah
Dean, Faculty of Arts
University of Ghana
Mourad Yelles
Institut Maghreb-Europe
Université Paris 8
LIST OF ENTRIES
Algeria
Ancestors
Angola (Republic of Angola)
Animals in African Folklore
Arabic Folk Literature of North Africa
Architecture
Archives of Traditional Music (Indiana University)
Astronomy
Banjo: African Roots
Bao
Bascom, William R.
Basketry: Africa
Basketry, African American
Beadwork
Benin (People’s Republic of Benin)
Birth and Death Rituals Among the Gikuyu
Blacksmiths: Dar Zaghawa of the Sudan
Blacksmiths: Mande of Western Africa
Body Arts: Body Decoration in Africa
Body Arts: African American Arts of the Body
Body Arts: Hair Sculpture
Botswana
Burkina Faso
Burundi
Callaway, Bishop Henry H.
Cameroon (United Republic of Cameroon)
Cape Verde (Republic of Cape Verde)
Cardinal Directions
Caribbean Verbal Arts
Carnivals and African American Cultures
Cartoons
Central African Folklore: Overview
Central African Republic (C.A.R.)
Ceramics
Ceramics and Gender
Chad (Republique du Tchad)
Chief
Children’s Folklore: Iteso Songs of War Time
Children’s Folklore: Kunda Songs
Children’s Folklore: Ndebele
Classiques Africains
Color Symbolism: The Akan of Ghana
Comoros (Comoros Federal Islamic Republic)
Concert Parties
Congo (Republic of the Congo)
Contemporary Bards: Hausa Verbal Artists
Cosmology
Cote d’Ivoire (Republic of Cote d’Ivoire)
Crowley, Daniel J.
Dance: Overview with a Focus on Namibia
Decorated Vehicles (Focus on Western Nigeria)
Democratic Republic of Congo (Formerly Republic of Zaire)
Dialogic Performances: Call-and-Response in African Narrating
Diaspora: African Communities in the United Kingdom
Diaspora: African Communities in the United States
Diaspora: African Traditions in Brazil
Diaspora: Sea Islands of the United States
Dilemma Tales
Divination: Overview
Divination: Household Divination Among the Kongo
Divination: Ifá Divination in Cuba
Djibouti (Republic of Djibouti)
Dolls and Toys
Drama: Anang Ibibio Traditional Drama
Draughts (Jeu de Danes; Checkers)
Dreams
Dress
East African Folklore: Overview
Education: Folklore in Schools
Egypt
Electronic Media and Oral Traditions
Epics: Overview
Epics: Liongo Epic of the Swahili
Epics: West African Epics
Equatorial Guinea (Republic of Equatorial Guinea)
Eritrea (State of Eritrea)
Esthetics: Baule Visual Arts
Ethiopia (People’s Democratic Republic of Ethiopia)
Evans-Pritchard, Sir Edward Evan
Evil Eye
Festivals: Mutomboko Festival of the Lunda
Films on African Folklore
Folktales
Folktales of the Bamana
Foodways: Cattle and Sorghum Grain in Jie Cosmology
Foodways: Yoruba Food Vendors
French Study of African Folklore
Frobenius, Leo Viktor
Gabon (Gabonese Republic)
Gambia, the (Republic of the Gambia)
Gender Representations in African Folklore
German Study of African Folklore
Gestures in African Oral Narrative
Ghana (Republic of Ghana)
Gossip and Rumor
Gourds: Their Uses and Decorations
Government Policies Toward Folklore
Greetings: a Case Study from the Kerebe
Griaule, Marcel
Griots and Griottes
Guinea (Republic of Guinea)
Guinea-Bissau (Republic of Guinea-Bissau)
Healing and Spirit Possession in São Tomé and Príncipe
Hero
Hero in Sukuma Prose Narratives
Herskovits, Melville J.
History and Cultural Identity: the Ashanti
History and Cultural Identity: the Chokwe
History and Folklore: the Luba
History and Religious Rituals: Bemba Traditions
Housing: African American Traditions
Hunting: Aka Net Hunting
Identity and Folklore: Kunda
Ideophone
Indian Ocean Islands: the Process of Creolization
Initiation
Institutional Study of African Folklore
Insults and Ribald Language
Islamic Brotherhoods: Baye Fall and Yengu, a Mouride Spirituality
Japanese Study of African Folklore
Jews of Ethiopia
Jokes and Humor
Joking Relationships
Kenya (Republic of Kenya)
Kwanzaa
Languages
Languages: Africanisms in the Americas
Legends: East Africa
Lesotho (Kingdom of Lesotho)
Libation
Liberia (Republic of Liberia)
Libraries
Libya
Linguistics and African Verbal Arts
Madagascar (Democratic Republic of Madagascar)
Maghrib (northwestern North Africa) Folklore: Overview
Maghrib: Algeria
Maghrib: Berber Peoples: Their Language and Folklore
Malagasy Folklore and Its Study
Malawi
Mali (Republic of Mali)
Mami Wata in Central Africa
Mancala
Maqalat: Concepts of Folklore in the Sudan
Masks and Masquerades
Masquerading by Women: Ejagham
Mauritania (Islamic Republic of Mauritania)
Mauritius (Republic of Mauritius)
Medicine: Overview
Medicine: Folk Medicine of the Hausa
Medicine: Indigeneous Therapeutic Systems in Western Kenya
Metallurgy and Folklore
Morocco
Mozambique (People’s Republic of Mozambique)
Music in Africa: Overview
Music: African Musical Traditions in the United States
Music: Arab and Jewish Music of North Africa
Music: Atalaku of Congo (Zaire)
Music: Music and Dance Styles of the Ewe
Music and Dance: Uganda
Music: Musical Innovation in African Independent Churches
Music: Popular Dance Music in Congo (Zaire)
Music: Soukouss
Music: West African “Highlife”
Musical Instruments: Focus on Namibia
Myths: Overview
Myths: Mythology and Society in Madagascar: a Tañala example
Myths: Myths of Origin and Sculpture: the Makonde
Namibia
Naming Customs in Africa
Naming Customs: East Africa
Narration and Verbal Discourse: the Lugbara of Uganda
Niger (Republic of Niger)
Nigeria (Federal Republic of Nigeria)
North African (Eastern Section) Folklore: Overview
Northeastern African Folklore (The Horn): Overview
Nsibidi: an Indigenous Writing System
Okyeame
Old Man and Old Woman
Oral Literary Research in Africa
Oral Literature: Issues of Definition and Terminology
Oral Narrative
Oral Performance and Literature
Oral Performance Dynamics
Oral Traditions
Oral Tradition and Oral Historiography
Oral Tradition: Oral History and Zambia
Orality and Literacy in Africa
Oratory: an Introduction
Oratory: Political Oratory and Its Use of Traditional Verbal Art
Origins and Culture Heroes: Nilotic Peoples
Orisha
Orphan Motif in African Folklore
The Oxford Library of African Literature
Oyo Tunji: a Yoruba Community in The USA
Palaver (Kinzonzi) in Kongo Life
Performance in Africa
Performance Studies and African Folklore Research
Performing Arts of São Tomé and Príncipe
Performing Arts of The Tiv
Performing Arts of Uganda
Personal Experience Narratives
Pidgin and Creole Languages
Polyrhythm
Popular Culture
Portuguese Study of African Folklore
Praise Poetry: Southern African Praise Poetry
Praise Poetry: Praise Poetry of the Basotho
Praise Poetry: Praise Poetry of the Xhosa
Praise Poetry: Xhosa Praise Poetry for President Mandela
Praise Poetry (Yorùbà Oríkì)
Prose and Poetry of the Fulani
Prose Narratives: the Maasai
Prose Narratives: the Mende
Prose Narratives: the Tabwa
Prose Narratives and Performance: the Tuareg
Proverbs
Proverbs: Sesotho Proverbs
Puppetry
Queen Mothers
Radio and Television Drama
Rastafari: a Marginalized People
Rattray, R.S.
Religion: African Traditional Religion
Religions: Afro-Brazilian Religions
Religious Ceremonies and Festivals: São Tomé and Príncipe
Riddles
Riddles: Sesotho Riddles
Ritual Performance
Rwanda (Republic of Rwanda)
Rwanda: Tales of Genocide
Sahir (Evil Mouth)
Santeria in Cuba
São Tomé And Príncipe (Democratic Republic of Sao Tome and Principe)
Secrecy in African Orature
Senegal (Republic of Senegal)
Seychelles
Sheng: East African Urban Folk Speech
Sierra Leone (Republic of Sierra Leone)
Silence in Expressive Behavior
Siyar: North African Epics
Somalia (Somali Democratic Republic)
Songs for Ceremonies
Songs of the Dyula
South Africa (Republic of South Africa)
South Africa, Oral Traditions
Southern African Folklore: Overview
Southern African Oral Traditions
Southern Africa: Contemporary Forms of Folklore
Southern Africa: Shona Folklore
Speaking and Nonspeaking Power Objects of the Senufo
Spirit Possession Dance in Guyana: Comfa
Spirit Possession: Kunda
Spirit Possession: Tuareg and Songhay
Spirit Possession: West Africa
Stories and Storytelling: the Limba
Storytellers
Sudan
Superstitions
Surrogate Languages: Alternative Communication
Swaziland (Kingdom of Swaziland)
Tanzania (United Republic of Tanzania)
Textile Arts and Communication
Textiles: African American Quilts, Textiles, and Cloth Charms
Theater: African Popular Theater
Theater: Duro Ladipo and Yoruba Folk Theater
Theater: Popular Theater in Southern Africa
Theater: Theater for Development
Theater: Yoruba Folk Theater
Togo (Republic of Togo)
Tongue Twisters: East Africa
Tongue Twisters: Yoruba
Touring Performance Groups
Tourism and Tourist Arts
Translation
Tricksters in African Folklore
Tricksters: Eshu, the Yoruba Trickster
Tricksters: Ture of the Azande
Tunisia
Typology and Performance in the Study of Prose Narratives in Africa
Uganda (Republic of Uganda)
Urban Folklore: a Sudanese Example
Urban Folklore: the Swahili of Zanzibar
Verbal Arts: African American
Verbal Arts: the Ibibio of Southeastern Nigeria
Visual And Performing Arts: the Songye
Visual Arts: Uli Painting of the Igbo
Vodou
Voice Disguisers
Wari
Water Ethos: The Ijo of the Niger Delta
West African Folklore: Overview
Western Sahara
Witchcraft, Magic, and Sorcery
Women’s Expressive Culture in Africa
Women’s Folklore: Eritrea
Women’s Folklore: Ghana
Women Pop Singers and Broadcast Media in Mali
Words and the Dogon
Work Songs
Yards and Gardens, African American Traditions
Zambia (Republic of Zambia)
Zar: Spirit Possession in the Sudan
Zimbabwe (Republic of Zimbabwe)
Africa
North Africa
West Africa
Northeast Africa: The Horn
East Africa and Madagascar
Southern Africa
Central Africa
A
AFRICAN AMERICANS
See Diaspora
AKAN/ASHANTI
See Beadwork; Chief; Color Symbolism: The Akan of Ghana; Concert Parties;
Gender Representation in African Folklore; Jokes and Humor; Queen Mothers;
Rattray; Tricksters in African Folklore
ALGERIA
One of Africa’s largest countries, Algeria is bordered by the Mediterranean to the north,
Tunisia and Libya to the east, Niger and Mali to the south, Mauritania, Western Sahara,
and Morocco to the west. Since the late twentieth century, Algeria has suffered from
much politically motivated violence. As early as 1830, when the French first invaded,
there was fierce opposition to foreign control. Algeria remained a province of France
until the liberation movement arose in the 1950s. Independence was finally granted in
1962. Within several years, there was another revolution led by the Algerian military,
which ruled for ten years until elections in 1976. Then, Colonel Houari Boumedienne,
who had led the military government, was formally elected president. With his death in
1978, the Revolutionary Council took over once again until the 1990 elections, when the
gains made by the Islamic fundamentalist movement were nullified by the military,
which seized power in 1992. Virtual civil war has continued ever since, with thousands of
Algerians being killed. Fortunately, a majority of the population accepted the elections of
2001 and a relative peace has been maintained.
The new constitution officially recognizes those of Arab and of Berber identity, the
latter being the original inhabitants of the country. The Berber language is also officially
African folklore
2
recognized, although Arabic continues as the general language, and French is used in
business and government. The current population is approximately 31 million. Islam is
the major religion, with 98 percent of the population being Sunni Muslims. There are
over a dozen institutions of higher learning, and an adult literacy rate of over 62 percent.
Petroleum is Algeria’s main export. In 1991, foreign oil companies were permitted to
acquire up to 49 percent of the oil and gas reserves. Oil and gas constitute nearly onethird of the country’s GNP. A variety of other mineral wealth is also exported including
iron, lead, phospates, and zinc as well as marble, salt, and coal. Although little of Algeria
is suitable for agriculture, it is known for its citrus fruits and wine. Industrial production
is growing but increased urbanization and agricultural decline have led to increased
migration to Europe.
Our best evidence of the ancient Saharan civilization, established as early as 6,000
BCE, is in the fabulous rock art at Tassili and other sites far into Algeria’s Saharan
territory. These rock paintings and engravings, depicting elephants, giraffes, even cattle,
prove that the Sahara was once fertile and supported an extraordinary civilization that
must have had ties to North African cities, such as Carthage and ancient Egypt. Some
scholars even speculate on links to other African civilizations to the south on the basis of
these detailed paintings.
PHILIP M.PEEK
ANCESTORS
An important part of the cosmology of West African peoples, the belief in ancestors
affirms that life continues after death, that the spirit realm is not an alien world
inaccessible to humans, and that even after death, relationships are not eternally severed
between the deceased and their living descendants. Among the major ethnic groups in
West Africa such as the Akan (in Ghana and the Ivory Coast), the Ga (in Ghana), the
Ewe (in Ghana and Togo), the Fon (in Benin), the Yoruba and Igbo (in Nigeria), those
who have attained the status of ancestors are given honorific titles such as Nananom
Nsamanfo (Akan), and Togbi Togbuiwo (Ewe). These titles literally mean
“grandparents.”
To be an ancestor, a person must be a progenitor because the cult of ancestors is
composed of one’s descendants. But there can be rare exceptions where a person who did
not have biological children, but who cared for the extended family, is accorded the
honor. Apart from having descendants, one must lead a moral life worthy of emulation
and one of community service. Traditionally it is believed that an upright life is normally
rewarded with old age. Such a person who is endowed with experience and wisdom then
becomes an elder within the community. The person must die of natural causes. Some
types of death are considered to be a curse in West African communities and negate the
prospects of becoming an ancestor (Assimeng 1989, 60). At death the proper funeral rites
must be performed for the deceased person to ensure passage into the spirit world of the
ancestors. The invocation of such a person by name in ritual signals recognition as an
ancestor by living descendants.
African Americans
3
Ancestors form the spiritual segment of their families and are the most intimate
spiritual link between their living descendants and the spiritual world of God, the gods,
and other spirit powers. They serve as intermediaries and mediators between their
descendants and the spirit world, promoting the welfare of their descendants. A wide
range of requests are therefore put to them by their living descendants, including requests
for children, prosperity, a good harvest, and general well-being. They mediate these
boons for their descendants from God and the gods. The ancestors are particularly seen as
transmitters of life who enable their descendants to procreate. As Dzobo (1992, 232)
points out, their concern with sexuality reflects a desire to increase the size of the family,
ensuring the continuity of the family line. The ancestors are believed to reincarnate in
their own families; thus, an emphasis on procreation benefits past, present, and future
family generations.
The ancestors also offer protection to their descendants from inimical powers. A good
illustration of this belief is manifested in a special sacrifice known as the Sane (debt)
sacrifice among the Naga of northern Ghana. In this sacrifice a person is made to replace
through divination the items supposedly used spiritually by ancestors to divert a spiritual
attack on the person. Ancestors are also concerned with healing and may reveal healing
remedies to descendants through dreams, and so forth.
The ancestral roles have an ethical basis. The ancestors are regarded as the guides and
guards of the moral conduct of their descendants. Although they reward the good with
boons, they punish or ignore belligerent and negligent descendants. They are also
believed to provide spiritual sanctions to various traditional taboos, especially sexual
taboos. Such taboos when broken destroy the moral fabric of the communities that they
helped to establish. The filial bonds with their descendants also oblige the latter to act in
a manner that does not tarnish their ancestral name.
Often the ethical role of the ancestors takes on a judicial aspect. This is implied in the
belief that they reward or punish good and bad descendants respectively. They also serve
as symbols of justice. Elders who adjudicate cases pray to the ancestors for wisdom and
discernment and invite them to witness the proceedings. Anthony Emphirim-Donkor
(1997, 125) notes, “This is to ensure that everything said and done is carried out in spirit
and in truth.” The Egungun ancestral mask cult of the Yoruba of Nigeria also judges
cases while the elders are masked as ancestors. Their decisions are regarded as those of
the ancestors.
In performing all these roles the ancestors serve as important religious foci of social
order and continuity. Among the Ewe, as Fiawoo (1967, 266) points out, “the values set
on kinship find expression in the ancestral cult.” Filial piety as expressed in the ancestors
and shared by others leads to a recognition of the social foundations of one’s life and
fosters social cohesion, solidarity, and corporate identity. Ancestral links also engender
the resolution to maintain the traditions of the ancestors for others yet to be born. This
entrusts responsibility for the future in the hands of the living. The ancestors are therefore
the key element connecting the symbiotic religious and social lives of the people.
The ancestral beliefs partially account for the way religion is intertwined with various
aspects of West African life. The links of the ancestor cult with economic and political
life gives a sense of continuity and security to living descendants. As founders of
communities, the ancestors are linked with land, a traditional symbol of identity for their
descendants. The ancestral traditions of land use also affect economic life. The legitimacy
African folklore
4
of political authority is also vested in the ancestors. In most West African communities
those who hold political authority do so in proxy for the ancestors. They are responsible
to the latter and regularly function in priestly roles, communicating and maintaining
communion with the ancestors on behalf of themselves and those whom they lead.
The ultimate role of the ancestors is to serve as symbols of an ideal after-life, and of
the possibility of salvation for those still living (Dovlo 1993). Most West African peoples
hold that after death one must cross a river between the world of the living and the world
of the ancestors, so as to be integrated into ancestral spiritual segments of their families.
This is the ideal after-life scenario, in which one finds peace in being reunited with the
family. It reaffirms the sense of community that forms the basis for the entire cult of the
ancestors. Those who do not cross this river become “wandering ghosts.” They remain
restless in the world of the living and are considered hostile to the living.
The roles that ancestors play generate a mixture of respect, filial love, fear, and
reliance in their descendents. The latter perform various rituals of communication,
communion, appreciation, remembrance, and consultation so as to be in harmonious
relationship with the ancestors. The rituals involve libation prayers, offerings, animal
sacrifices and festivals, as illustrated by, for example, the Adae Festival of the Akan of
Ghana.
The rituals performed for the ancestors have led to a debate as to whether they are
simply venerated, or actually worshipped. Peter Sarpong (1970) and Fashole-Luke (1980)
argue that they are only venerated and not worshiped. Others (Sawyer 1966, Pobee 1979,
66) argue that though pietistic adoration may not be strong in rituals directed at the
ancestors, many of the elements of ancestral rites are not different from those accorded to
the gods or God. Bolaji Idowu (1973, 180) has also argued that the notions of veneration
and worship are psychologically too close for a distinction to be made in the case of the
ancestors. Moreover, some ancestors are apotheosized into gods, as is particularly the
case among the Yoruba of Nigeria. Among the Mende of Sierra Leone, the Supreme
Being is regarded as the great ancestor. It is therefore difficult to rule out the fact that the
ancestors enjoy a level of worship and rituals pertaining to them that go beyond
veneration.
It seems that insistence that the ancestors are venerated and not worshipped involves a
level of apologetics that seeks to make them comparable to saints, so as to make them
acceptable in a Christian context. This, however, involves imposing a Christian and
Western template which insists that “only God deserves worship.” The position of West
African traditional religions would be that “only God deserves ultimate worship.” In that
case, the ancestors may be accurately seen as receiving veneration and a degree of
worship in traditional West African religion.
References
Dovlo, Elom. 1993. Ancestors and Soteriology in African and Japanese Religions. Studies in
Interreligious Dialogue 3, no. 1:48–57.
Dzobo, N. Values in a Changing Society: Man, Ancestors, and God. In Person and Community,
eds. Kwasi Wiredu and Kwame Gyekye. Washington, D.C.: The Council for Research into
Values and Philosophy.
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Ephirim-Donkor, Anthony. 1997. African Spirituality. On Becoming Ancestors. Trenton, N.J.:
African World Press.
Fashole-Luke, E.W. 1980. The Ancestors: Worship or Veneration—Introduction. Sierra Leone
Bulletin of Religion, n.s. 1 (December): 37–50.
Fiawood, D.K. 1976. Characteristic Features of Ewe Ancestor Worship. In Ancestors, ed. William
H. Newell. The Hague: Mouton.
Idowu, Bolaji. 1973. African Traditional Religion. A Definition. London: SCM Press.
Pobee, J.S. 1979. Towards an African Theology. Abingdon/Nashville: Parthenon Press.
Sarpong, Peter. 1970. A Theology of Ancestors. Insight and Opinion. 6, no. 2:1–9.
Sawyer, Harry. 1964. Ancestor Worship I—The Mechanics. Sierra Leone Bulletin of Religion 6,
no. 2 (December) :25–33.
——. 1966. Ancestor Worship II—The Rationale. Sierra Leone Bulletin of Religion. 8, no. 2
(December) :33–37.
ELOM DOVLO
See also Cosmology; Divination; Religion: African Traditional Religion
ANGOLA (REPUBLIC OF ANGOLA)
Located on southern Africa’s west coast, Angola (including to the north the small former
Portuguese enclave of Cabinda) is a large country of approximately 13 million people
with a climate that ranges from tropical to subtropical. Angola’s capital and largest city is
Luanda, which has a population of over 2 million. Thirty-seven percent of Angola’s
ethnic population is Ovimbundu, 25 percent is Kimbundu, 13 percent is Bakongo, while
one-quarter of the population consists of other unidentified groups. There is also a small
population of mixed Portuguese and African heritage called mestiço. The major
languages spoken throughout the country are Portuguese, Ovimbundu, Kimbundu, and
Kongo. Nearly half of Angola’s people (47%) still practice their traditional indigenous
religions, while 37 percent are Roman Catholic, and 15 percent are Protestant.
After centuries of Portuguese rule and years of unrest due to its Fascist government, a
national war of liberation began in 1961. Angola finally won its independence from
Portugal on November 11, 1975. Following the rapid process of decolonization, major
conflicts arose between the three major parties that were vying for postcolonial power.
The situation was further complicated by interference by countries such as apartheid-era
South Africa and the United States, who supported UNITA, and the former Soviet Union
and Cuba, who supported the MPLA during the Cold War period. Since 1975, more than
1,500,000 people have died and 2 million people have been either displaced or have fled
the country. The situation has slightly improved since the end of the Cold War in 1991,
but when UNITA lost the 1998 elections, their leader, Jonas Savimbi, continued the civil
war allegedly funding his efforts with “blood diamonds”—illegally mined and sold
diamonds. With Savimbi’s death in 2002 and the incorporation of many UNITA fighters
into the government, reconciliation and peace now seem possible.
Although the economy of Angola has greatly suffered because of the war, early
twenty-first century yearly oil revenues are 3.5 billion; nevertheless, since the end of the
civil war corruption continues and currently 2 million people face starvation. Part of the
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problem is the thousands of remaining landmines, preventing the return to normal life and
to the farming of the country’s fertile soil. (One in 415 Angolans has had a landmine
injury.) In addition to crude oil, diamonds and minerals are important exports.
Angola’s years of turmoil have prevented many cultural rites and celebrations. In
addition to the historically important Kongo peoples, the Chokwe are perhaps the bestknown group, recognized for their extraordinary verbal and visual arts.
JENNIFER JOYCE
ANIMALS IN AFRICAN FOLKLORE
Animals are frequent protagonists and subjects of African folklore. There are several
principal reasons why people are so likely to think about animals via narrative. As James
Fernandez (1995) suggests, it is difficult to know how we would understand our own
identity as human beings, were it not for “the ‘other animals’ that serve so conveniently
and appropriately as a frame for [his] own activity and reflectivity.” In other words, what
it means to be human is often understood by recognizing contrasts to, and similarities
with, animals.
When people tell stories about animals, they are usually talking about themselves, or
at least about animal/human relations. An important effect of this parallel thinking is that
through animal proverbs, tales, songs, epithets, and other narrative forms, we humans can
discuss ourselves and each other indirectly. Such an expressive device is an example of
allegory—a term derived from two Greek particles: allos, “other,” or something next to
or beside a point of reference, and gory, from the verb agoreuein, which is “to speak
publicly,” but with specific reference to the agora or marketplace. “Speaking publicly” in
a market implies bargaining, debate, and negotiation: in other words, politics. Such a
sense is carried through to the word allegory, for as is illustrated by the well-known
allegory Animal Farm by George Orwell (1945), the political messages conveyed by
seemingly innocent little stories can be very trenchant indeed. Here is the point, then:
Using animals as the heroes and subjects of folktales allows indirection because the
foibles or vices of some person or faction can be contemplated and discussed without
outright confrontation. In the small, face-to-face communities that characterize much of
Africa, avoiding conflict, while bringing attention to disharmonious behavior through
narratives, is of critical importance.
Cosmogonic Myths
The protagonists or auxiliary characters of cosmogonic myths are often animals. In some
such accounts, animal or animal-like beings trod the earth before humans did, and it was
they who established the first parameters of social life as humans would come to know it.
The Dogon people of Mali speak of primordial, proto–human beings called Nommo, who
shared attributes with mudfish and snakes—animals often considered “amorphous and
virtual” and “everything that has not yet acquired form,” as Mircea Eliade (1959, 148)
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put it. According to the famous Dogon sage Ogotemmeli (Griaule 1970), Nommo had
unarticulated serpentine members, undifferentiated gender, and other traits embodying all
that is potential and not yet formalized. One Nommo decided to defy God by stealing a
piece of the sun to bring fire to earth as the basis of human culture. The Nommo fitted out
a granary (or silo) as an ark for his descent, with all categories of plant, animal, and
human ethnicity necessary to the world that humans would come to know. As he began
his trip downward along the rainbow, God discovered the Nommo’s betrayal and
furiously hurled lightning bolts that so accelerated the ark’s trajectory that it crashed to
earth. As it did, the plants, animals, and people it bore were dispersed to their present
locations, and the snakelike arms and legs of the Nommo were broken at what would
become the shoulders, elbows, wrists, hips, knees, and ankles: body parts and appendages
necessary for the Dogon agricultural lifestyle.
Tricksters
Animals often serve as tricksters in African folklore. Hares, small antelopes, and several
other animals engage in hilarious adventures through which they grossly exceed and
often subvert expectation by outwitting beasts ostensibly far more powerful and
important than they. Paradoxically, by reversing all that is ordinary, they teach what is
ordinary to rapt audiences. Through trickster tales, children learn and adults reaffirm
social norms and proper behavior.
Most famous of all African tricksters is Anansi, the spider of Ashanti lore that has
found a place in the hearts of people far from its native Ghana (Pelton 1989). Indeed,
Anansi came to the Americas via the trans-Atlantic slave trade, and he is alive and well in
Jamaica and many other places. Spiders, including some quite big ones in semitropical
parts of Africa, inhabit interstices: their webs stretch across paths or between one
structure and another in such a way that they seem neither here nor there, and yet are both
here and there at the same time. Anansi is “Mr. In-Between” himself, able to be all things
and none, simultaneously. As such, Anansi personifies possibility, and his preposterous
misadventures are the stuff of humor with a didactic edge.
Not all spider tricksters are web-spinners. Su, the trickster of the Sara peoples of
southern Chad (Fortier 1967), is a large, red, hairy, hunting spider that is always rushing
from one place to another as it seeks its prey, never being anyplace at any given time.
One of Su’s adventures exemplifies the creative hypotheses that all African animal
tricksters achieve. A chief had a beautiful daughter who was physically able to speak, but
refused to do so; her silence meant that she could not marry, thus thwarting her father’s
wishes to create a political alliance through her wedding. The chief promised his
daughter’s hand to whomever could oblige her to talk, but handsome suitor after
handsome suitor failed. When Su offered to try, everyone laughed that such an
insignificant creature would have such grand pretensions. Su entered the daughter’s
house carrying a large bundle of straw with which he tried to thatch her roof—from the
inside, rather than the outside. Su’s defiance of gravity meant that the straw fell all over
him in a most comical way. The young woman could not contain her laughter, and when
she called Su a fool, her father was so overjoyed to hear her first word that he gave her to
Su to wed. Such a seemingly simple story underscores the essential need for
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communication, with an added message that often the least important soul has the best
ideas.
Proverbs and Praises
Animals are the subject of a great many African proverbs and praises. The Tabwa people
of Congo-Kinshasa have many sayings about lions, for instance, such as “to see a lion is
to escape from it” (Roberts 1995). The first refers to the fact that lions are supremely
gifted hunters, whose prowess and powers are such that they need hunt only an hour a
day, even during seasons when game is most dispersed and difficult to find. The other
twenty-three hours, they lay about like “honey poured out in the sun,” as one writer had it
(Anne Morrow Lindbergh, cited in George Schaller 1972, 120–2). When lions are not
hunting, they are not hungry, and their erstwhile prey often graze surprisingly close to
where a pride is relaxing. “To see a lion is to escape from it” refers to such easygoing
times, for it is when one does not see the lion, that it may be sneaking up behind some
unsuspecting victim. Political use of such a phrase is obvious: the most powerful people
may be benign most of the time, but all should beware their ruthlessness as they
clandestinely pursue their own interests.
African rural peoples, such as the Nuer of the Sudan (Evans-Pritchard 1977) may live
so interdependently with their cattle and other livestock that the relationship bears the
intimacy of psychological identification. Nuer take their own names from the colors and
patterns, horn shape and size, and other attributes of favorite cows and oxen. A Nuer
youth chants his ox-name as he dances before young women or engages in dueling with
clubs or other sports; and in the old days, he would shout the name as he hurled a spear at
an enemy or a game animal. Songs and poems are composed praising one’s cattle, and it
is never quite clear—to an outsider, at least—whether the subject of these narratives is an
ox or a person.
Invectives
Animals are often invoked as invective, in playful insults as well as hurtful words meant
to instigate a fight. Among the Yoruba and related peoples of southeastern Bénin
Republic, for instance, young men in rival Gelede masquerade societies may taunt each
other through songs, provocative choreography, and the iconography of masks made for
the occasion. A mask seen in the town of Cové depicts a dog standing on its back legs,
trying to bite a bat hanging from a tree; a bird atop the tree tries to attack the bat from
above (Roberts 1995). The song accompanying the masked performance mocks the
members of a rival Gelede society as being like the bat, neither birds nor beasts, but a
little of both in such a precarious position that they have no particular status whatsoever.
Insults can be taken much farther than this innocent play. We all know what can
happen in the United States if someone calls an adversary a “pig,” an “old goat,” a “fox,”
or the colloquial term for “female dog.” Among Tabwa people of Congo-Kinshasa, the
quickest way to make someone furious is to call the person an animal—not any particular
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beast, just “Animal!” The message is that you, fool that you are, are not even human, and
thus hardly worth contempt.
References
Eliade, Mircea. 1957. The Sacred and the Profane. New York: Harcourt Brace.
Evans-Pritchard, E. 1977. Nuer Religion (1956). New York: Oxford University Press.
Fernandez, James. 1995. Meditating on Animals, Figuring Out Humans! In Animals in African Art:
From the Familiar to the Marvelous, by Allen Roberts. Munich: Prestel for the Museum for
African Art, New York.
Fortier, Joseph. 1967. Le mythe et les contes de Sou en pays Mbaï-Moissala. Paris: Juillard.
Griaule, Marcel. 1970. Conversations with Ogotemmeli. New York: Oxford University Press.
Orwell, George. 1996. Animal Farm. New York: Signet Classic.
Pelton, Robert. 1989. The Trickster in West Africa. Berkeley: University of California Press.
Roberts, Allen. 1995 Animals in African Art: From the Familiar to the Marvelous. Munich:
Presented for the Museum for African Art. New York.
Schaller, George. 1972. The Serengeti Lion: A Study in Predator-Prey Relations. Chicago:
University of Chicago Press.
ALLEN F.ROBERTS
See also Divination; Tricksters in African Folklore.
ARABIC FOLK LITERATURE OF
NORTH AFRICA
The language (or more precisely the linguistic layers) of North African Arabic folk
literature has not yet been paid the attention it deserves. This is due to the emphasis
generally placed on literary or anthropological aspects of the texts, the reluctance to grant
legitimacy to colloquial or colloquializing speech, and the difficulties of performing a
suitable analysis. The following considerations should thus be considered programmatic,
rather than based on extensive research.
Since the late twentieth century, a number of studies have showed that it is more
fruitful to look at linguistic productions in Arabic as taking place on a linguistic
continuum and ranging between colloquial (
, därija) and literary
(
) Arabic, rather than in terms of diglossia (with a high and a low variety). This
type of analysis should be applied to literary productions as well, be they learned or
popular because phenomena observed are basically the same, even if the properly literary
character brings along some additional specific characteristics.
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Variation
Contrary to what is usually assumed, Arabic folk literature (folk tales, epics, proverbs,
songs (about women, children, wedding, or work), poetry (whether religious, gnomic,
satirical, love, or elegiac), riddles and other verbal art forms are indeed composed in a
multiplicity of linguistic varieties that can be described as neither daily colloquial, nor
standard literary, Arabic. Phrased more positively, these forms are expressed as a set of
mixed varieties in which the two polar types mingle and interfere in various ways. The
basic ingredients (phonological, morphological, syntactical and lexical) are not
necessarily used as they would be in the two original varieties, and they contribute in
shaping a new, multiform variety of a third type. Sometimes this form is colloquializing,
sometimes more classicizing; but in any case it has its own distinctive linguistic
characteristics. This applies to oral as well to written folk literature, which shows that,
from this point of view also, no clear dividing line can be drawn between the spoken and
the written.
Other facts make the complex nature of this linguistic system even more complicated,
and its description and analysis more difficult. On one hand, the colloquial background
may add its mark. This holds especially true for the lexicon: “local” material may spread
over larger areas and enrich the common cumulative lexicon of folk literature. The result
can be temporary or long-lasting misunderstandings; the latter case explains certain
semantic or stylistic transformations.
Beyond local variation, literature is produced within sociologically or geographically
distinct communities (although often living in close contact): For example, Bedouin,
rural, urban or regional. This literature developed (through processes hardly studied in the
early twenty-first century) traditions and true literary lingua francas, the most strongly
established of which became transregional. It should be noted here that Jewish folk
literature is not, linguistically speaking, to be set apart from its Muslim counterpart,
notwithstanding the occurrence of specific features of North African Judeo-Arabic
dialects and, obviously, of Jewish religious or community themes. These regional
linguistic commonalities also often cross the borders of literary genres: “many rural songs
[…] are also performed in the manner and to the tune of urban songs” and “conversely,
many urban songs are also performed in the bedouin way” (Belhalfaoui 1973, 24, 25).
On the other hand, folk literature, being well established as such, constitutes a large
cumulative corpus with its own archives. The diachronic variation of the dialects as well
as the one of its genuine linguistic usage is incorporated into it, and supplies it with
successive contributions that do not stop interacting. Some texts, especially those
belonging to the most fixed genres, can thus be rather difficult to understand properly.
They are, for this very reason, invaluable to the historian of language.
Finally, one has to take into account that folk literature, as any literature, uses
language for the purpose of artistic expression; thus the language is played with, as new
linguistic constructions are developed, and submitted to new formal constraints (with
specific modifications or distortions, especially in the case of sung poetry). Such
creativity also brings about conscious meditations on the literature itself as a cohesive
illustration of a culture, and an awareness of intentional or traditionally preserved
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archaisms, clichés and, on the contrary, of creative innovations. In short, folk literature
uses language metalinguistically and, at the same time, lets it conform with respect to the
codes and conventions it shapes to itself (reserving some of them for specific genres).
Intrinsic variation due to the creative mixing of colloquial and standard Arabic
combines with other types of variation, due to dialectal variety (which has itself to be set
within the sociolinguistic distinction between urban, rural, and Bedouin dialects), to
diachronic depth, and to phenomena proper to the literary use of language.
Typology
In order to set up a typology of intermediate language varieties used in North African
Arabic folk literature, one should probably start with distinguishing between prose and
poetry, although the forms act upon each other. This distinction only partly coincides
with the one that can be drawn between literary genres with low-specialized transmission
(e.g., folk tales) and with high-specialized transmission (e.g., sung poetry). In this
respect, epics might be considered closer to poetry: they actually include poems, the
prose sequences being most often transitions between or comments on them. Folk tales,
which allow a greater commitment of the storyteller, are more open to the evolution of
the dialects, even if archaisms and formulas are normally scrupulously preserved. More
fixed genres, like proverbs or ritual songs (of which the language can be very mixed), are
less exposed to variation; more exactly, the variants observed in them often show
evidence of sequences having been replaced because they were no longer intelligible.
Poetry is many sided: it can be either very colloquializing, or composed in a much more
mixed and codified variety (e.g.,
)—even in late-twentieth-century pieces (as
betrayed by words referring to modern objects or concepts, or by French borrowings), or
very classicizing works (as in many songs in praise of the Prophet). But it has to be
emphasized that no one-to-one correspondence can be established between language
variety and literary genre. One comes across religious or even didactic poems in
colloquial as well as across classicizing rural songs (Norris 1968, 92ff).
A very general classification is given for Algerian poetry of the beginning of this
century by Jean Desparmet (1907, 444), and is reiterated by Jacques Grand’Henry (1981,
652) who, extending it to “the linguistic levels in Arabic Maghrebine folk poetry,” makes
a distinction between “Andalusian and archaic urban colloquial Arabic,” “West-Algerian
Bedouin [colloquial] Arabic,” and “Neoarabic of Koranic inspiration.” If such a
classification rightly draws attention to three of the main trends which historically
contributed to shaping Maghrebine folk poetry, and if it is also to its credit to show that
linguistic levels cross the frontiers between literary genres, it can only be considered
indicative from the point of view of the linguistic typology of texts. Indicative also are
the useful remarks made by authors like Pierre Cachia (1989, 59–62) on the language of
Egyptian mawwâl or by Sibylle Vocke (1990, 58–74) on the language of Moroccan
-poetry; al-Fâsî (199 1) is invalua ble but restri ct ed lexicon of this last genre.
Concerning prose folk literature, descriptive remarks made by scholars will have to be
collated, but even a quick glance at the texts reveals wide discrepancies between the
linguistic varieties they use.
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12
An accurate linguistic typology would have to take into account the different literary
“dialects” (and their complex interactions) and to be founded on a thorough comparative
inventory of precise linguistic features. Below are short descriptions of such features.
One will notice that they are not different, as a whole, from the features characteristic of
those intermediate varieties, usually referred to as Middle Arabic, which have been used
for centuries, all over the Arabic-speaking world, in other nonstandard types of (written)
literature.
Phonetics (consonants, vowels, syllabic structure) is largely colloquial, but allows
itself borrowings from standard Arabic, and uses interdialectal variants. The best example
is the one of the qâf (uvular stop), of which the Bedouin (in both the dialectal and
common meanings) realization gâf (postpalatal voiced stop) is widely used and is even
the rule in some lexemes. In poetry, an -i can always (and an a- sometimes) be added to a
word ending with a consonant; a final vowel can always be dropped. For the purpose of
rhyme, an -n (and sometimes other consonants like -d) can be added to a word ending
with a vowel. Aw and u/û often alternate. Written documents—which are not rare—show
that an orthographic norm (with local variants) has been set up to transcribe
colloquialisms or colloquializing pronunciations. Largely dependent on the classical
norm, it also uses genuine notations (mostly generalizations of existing classical
orthographic peculiarities) like alif before an initial cluster of two consonants to indicate
that it has to be pronounced CC- (and not CVC-), or alif after a final vocalic wâw even in
nonverbal forms.
Nominal morphology, although rather colloquial (thus CV syllables with unstressed
vowel are usually not found) is more mixed. It does not refrain from playing with vowel
length (and with consonantal gemination), and from switching—for the same root—from
a noun form to another (and sometimes new) one. Some noun forms, which are of
infrequent use in both colloquial and standard varieties, are particularly valued and
sought after, like teCCâC (verbal noun of the second derived verbal stem) or CaCCân
(verbal noun or adjective). The range of plural forms is wide and includes some
unprecedented (analogical) ones.
Verbal morphology is basically colloquial (with e.g., n-… [u] for the first person of
the imperfective), although preverbal particles (like Moroccan ka-) are rather rare in
poetry. The active participle is readily used with its colloquial constructions and
aspectual values. The use of the verbal derived stems is more complex: proper colloquial
stems like CCâC are found, but the so-called passive stem with prefixed n- occurs more
frequently than in the colloquials (where the t- prefix stem is predominant); apophonic
(standard) passives are not excluded. As is the case with nouns, short vowels can be
lengthened, and vice-versa. Switching from some derived stems to some others,
considered of a higher expressive and/or stylistic value, can be observed. Colloquial
auxiliary verbs are of constant use; among them, originally motion or posture verbs are
very important narrative devices.
Pronouns are often colloquial: personal pronouns (whether independent or bound),
demonstrative (and, maybe to a lesser degree, interrogative) pronouns and adjectives. The
relative adjective usually appears in its (invariable) colloquial form (illi,
etc.) but the
relative pronouns seem to occur more frequently in their standard forms.
and have
special uses. Predominantly colloquial are also quantifiers and adverbs. For genuine
standard prepositions, colloquial counterparts are often substituted (like l(V) for
).
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With syntax, classical nominal desinential inflexion (declension) is normally absent,
and occurs only in classicisms or pseudo-classicisms. The use of a final (often
conjunctive) element n is probably historically related to tanwîn (the mark of
indefiniteness) but has a quite different function. The use of colloquial genitive particles
(
, dyâl etc.) is not rare. The pseudo-verbal presentative particle ra- is frequent. The
of the dimorphematic
negation system is extremely mixed; the second element
colloquial negative particles is not infrequent. The concord (agreement) system is also
mixed and complex. Regarding the syntax of subordinate clauses, syndetic as well as
asyndetic constructions abound; the subjunctive particles are often colloquial. The
conjunctive particle, used in its colloquial (u, w[V]) as well as in its standard (wa) shape,
is an easily identifiable stylistic device. Word order, as can be expected, is less
constrained than in both the standard and colloquial varieties.
Finally, the lexicon is particularly rich and complex. The most usual words (referring
to the most fundamental objects and operations), for example, nouns meaning “things,”
“letter,” “man,” “poor”; verbs meaning “to take,” “to show,” “to want,” “to jump”;
adverbs meaning “much,” “quickly,” as well as particularly descriptive and expressive
words (e.g., a verb meaning “to wiggle”) are most often colloquial. But the lexical
resources of all the linguistic registers are mobilized: words and locutions can thus be
ancient or archaic (and this raises the issue of the possible survival of an old preclassical
literary tradition; see Pellat 1987, 239), classical, colloquial, borrowed from European
languages, original creations (for instance by playing with forms and stems as already
mentioned). A real technical lexicon has thus been constituted (especially in poetry),
made up of numerous words of various origins, which have undergone complex semantic
evolutions and have been finally sanctioned by tradition. These terms—sometimes
occurring in the texts next to synonyms then functioning as glosses—are often
unintelligible to the layman, who nevertheless remains receptive to their stylistic effect.
References
Belhalfaoui, Mohamed. 1973. La poésie arabe maghrébine d’expression populaire. Paris: François
Maspéro.
Cachia, Pierre. 1989. Popular Narrative Ballads of Modern Egypt. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Desparmet, Jean. 1907. La poésie arabe actuelle a Blida et sa métrique. In Actes du XIVème
Congrès International des Orientalistes (Alger 1905). Paris: Leroux.
Fâsî,
al-. 1991.
lughat
. Rabat: Al-Hilâl
(
Akadîmiyyat al-mamlaka
Silsilat
).
, Jacques. Les niveaux de langue dans la poésie populaire arabe du Maghreb. In Bono
Homini Donum: Essays in Historical Linguistics in Memory of J. Alexander Kerns, eds. Yoel,
L.Arbeitman and Allan R.Bombhard. Amsterdam: Studies in the Theory of Linguistic Science.
Vol. 4, Current Issues in Linguistic Theory, Vol 2. 1981. Amsterdam: Benjamins.
Norris, H.T. 1968. Shinqîtî Folk Literature and Song. Oxford: Clarendon Press (The Oxford
Library of African Literature).
. In Encyclopedic de
, (2d ed.). Leiden: Brill.
Pellat, Charles. 1987.
Vocke, Sibylle. 1990. Die marokkanische
. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz.
JÉRÔME LENTIN
See also Languages; Maghrib, Music: Arab and Jewish Music of North Africa
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ARCHITECTURE
Traditional African architecture is frequently described as nothing more than an
assortment of small mud huts, an evaluation meant to dismiss the topic from further
consideration. Although some Africans do indeed build their houses with clay, these
dwellings are not the simple structures that they might outwardly seem. Earthen-walled
structures can vary significantly in size, configuration, or decoration even within a single
ethnic group, a circumstance that points toward the complexity of building designs across
the African landscape. Further, even the most cursory survey of indigenous African
architecture will reveal a number of monumental buildings, including palaces, shrines,
fortresses, and mosques, that are certainly comparable to European structures built during
the same periods. The faulty characterizations that portray African architecture as
marginal and minimal demand revision. For centuries Africans have crafted buildings
that signal and embody the cultural richness of the continent. Because the building
traditions of Africa are as numerous and as different as its peoples, one should speak of
African architectures.
The basic environmental patterns within the continent provide one of the reasons for
the diversity of African architectural traditions. Building practices that were developed,
for example, to cope with the conditions of the equatorial rain forests would not be used
in the desert regions. Those peoples living in the arid grasslands of northern Ghana often
build houses topped with flat roof terraces that would certainly erode into huge lumps of
mud if constructed just 200 miles to the south where seasonal rains are prolonged and
intense. Housing types will vary as well with differing economic activities and social
customs. Nomadic cattle herders, who must constantly move their livestock onward to
new pastures, build temporary shelters with readily available materials. By contrast, longsettled groups of farming peoples who claim ownership over particular patches of ground
construct residences that are fixed, permanent, and substantial; their houses are as rooted
as the crops they raise. Further, there is a direct connection between house form and the
pattern of family organization. An ethnic group that sanctions monogamous marital
unions will generally require only a single freestanding dwelling to shelter a couple and
their children, while societies that practice polygyny will build compound houses where a
man will live with his several wives in a cluster of small buildings gathered around a
common yard. Other determinants affecting building and design decisions might include
location (rural or urban), religion (Christianity, Islam, or traditionalist), status of the
owner (royalty, commoner, or slave), personal wealth, historical period, and the degree of
contact with foreign influences.
The following profiles provide a quick tour of traditional architecture in the major
geographical regions of Africa. They not only furnish examples of representative building
types and technologies, but also suggest some of the historical and cultural forces at work
in the construction of houses.
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Zimbabwe
On a nearly mile-high plateau in southern Zimbabwe there stand a set of impressive
granite ruins, abandoned by their Shona builders sometime in middle of the fifteenth
century. This place called Zimbabwe (venerated houses), has provided the country
previously known as Rhodesia with its new name. The entire site contains twelve sets of
house foundations along with the remains of their enclosing walls. The largest and most
intact of these is the so-called Elliptical Building, which has an outer wall 32 feet tall and
17 feet thick at its base tapering to a width of about 4 feet at the top. Forming an 800
foot-long encircling perimeter, this wall was laid up without mortar in smooth, regular
courses and topped off with decorative frieze in a chevron pattern. At regular intervals
along the top of the wall stand stone monoliths, some of them as much as 14 feet tall.
Visitors entered the enclosure of the Elliptical Building by means of a narrow pathway
formed by the outer wall and an equally impressive inner wall. Curving about halfway
around of the enclosure, the path led to a 30-foot-tall conical tower that was 18 feet in
diameter at its base, thought to have previously served as some sort of altar. Other
features suggest the presence of at least eight dwelling houses.
All the attention given to visual symbolism at Zimbabwe, when coupled with evidence
that perhaps only twenty-five people lived within the walls of the Elliptical Building,
suggests that the structure was meant primarily to serve ritual rather than residential
functions. It is believed that a small group of elites, the ancestral leaders of the Shona,
consolidated their authority over the other peoples of region some time round 1400 CE
and extracted tribute in the form of gold, ivory, iron, copper, salt, and cloth, which was
presented to them at Zimbabwe. The elements of courtly ornament and sculpture
recovered by archaeologists, when viewed within the architectural contexts of
Zimbabwe’s stone walls, suggest a high degree of luxury and confidence among this
ruling group. Clearly they understood that built form could effectively reinforce their
claims to authority and respect.
Fulani
The Fulani are widely dispersed across the West African savannah, from eastern Senegal
to northern Cameroon. Divided into three subgroups—nomads, farmers, and urban
dwellers—each is distinguished by a different set of building forms. Among the nomadic
Fulani, who live principally as cattle herders, entire families occupy temporary shelters
consisting of light frames covered with woven mats or with a thatch made of long grass.
These structures may be either dome shaped, approximately 18 feet in diameter and 8 feet
high, or oblong in plan, roughly 24 feet long and 9 feet wide. Those Fulani who
converted to Islam and then took up the routines of fixed cultivation have adopted a more
permanent form of architecture, erecting round houses with adobe walls topped by a
conical roofs. Several of these cone-on-cylinder forms are loosely grouped to form family
compounds, with men and women each living in their own separate buildings. The
earliest compound houses of urban Fulani were similar to those of farming families but
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their construction was more substantial. Encircled with high perimeter walls made with
thick adobe bricks, admission into a compound was gained through a special entry lobby.
Visitors were allowed no further into the household than this room. Over time the various
round houses in the compound, often built as two interlinked cylinders topped with flat
roofs, were replaced with square and rectangular units. These changes are indications of
the growing influence of the so-called Sudanic style of architecture, a material sign of the
expanding influence of Islamic culture in West Africa after 1300 CE. Given the wellknown commitment to Islam among the urban Fulani, it is not surprising that they would,
in due course, also adopt Islamic architectural traditions.
Tuareg
The Tuareg are a nomadic people who raise camels, which they trade throughout the
eastern Saharan desert ranging from the Niger River all the way to Algeria. Given the
necessary mobility of their lives, they live in tents. They use two types: one consists of a
large piece of cloth, roughly 15 by 20 feet, that is stretched over a set of poles; the second
is fixed frame tent employing a dome-shaped armature draped with mats or pieces of
cloth. Seeming to be nothing more than minimal, temporary shelters, these tents actually
demonstrate a sophisticated understanding of materials. Often called black tents, their
coffee-colored cloth coverings are made from goat hair. The open weave of this fiber
tightens under the sun’s rays providing both a dense shade against radiant heat. In the
coolness of the desert evening, when temperatures can drop as low as 45 degrees
Fahrenheit, the cloth usefully retains the heat generated during the day. The mats
covering the fixed frame tents can be easily adjusted to enhance the comfort of the
occupants. Rolled up along the sides of the tent during the day to promote ventilation,
they can be quickly dropped back down to provide protection from a sudden sand storm.
Although Tuareg tents have drab exteriors, inside they can be decorated with colorful
blankets displaying all manner of geometric designs. Even the much plainer palm mats
may be woven with bands of alternating color. Some Tuareg, particularly those living in
the southern portions of the Sahara, have taken up a more sedentary farming life and in
the process they have begun to build permanent houses following closely the examples
provided by their Mande- or Hausa-speaking neighbors. Such a move may ultimately
signal the end of the Tuareg tent-making tradition.
Iraqw
Today the Iraqw, a farming group living in the hills of northern Tanzania, build round
mud-walled houses topped with conical thatched roofs. Providing shelter for livestock as
well as people, the human occupants sleep on a platform about 8 feet above the house
floor, while most of the ground level is used as a stable where cows and goats are penned
during the evening. Although the Iraqw house is small, usually not more than 16 feet in
diameter, the space immediately in front of the door is also claimed as part of the
building and is treated as an all-purpose living room. Called an afeni, this courtyard is
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dug out about a foot lower than the threshold of the doorway. It is plastered repeatedly
with dung to make it smooth and hard.
In earlier times (but even as recently as 1976) Maasai warriors would raid the Iraqw in
order to steal their cattle. The Iraqw responded by retreating to highlands where they
constructed underground houses. These buildings were formed by digging rectangular
pits roughly 36 by 30 feet. They were entered by means of an excavated passage or, if the
house was dug into the slope of hill, through a door located in the downhill wall. Their
flat roofs made of woven branches plastered with clay were supported by as many as
seventy poles. In these low, windowless buildings that were not more than 6 feet tall, the
Iraqw hid with their livestock, hoping that the earthen camouflage would provide
sufficient protection.
Zulu
One of the major ethnic groups of South Africa, the traditional Zulu build distinctive
dome-shaped houses covered in grass. Although other neighboring groups erect similar
domed dwellings, the Zulu indulu is thought to be more sophisticated in its construction.
First, a circle approximately 16 feet across is marked out and a foundation trench is dug
around its circumference. Next hundreds of small rods of varying lengths are planted in
the foundation and bent to form interlacing arches of increasing height. Inclining inward
as they rise, the uppermost of these arches eventually touch at the apex of the dome about
8 feet above the ground where they are lashed together. Thatch is then applied on top of
this dense framework and firmly secured in place by a net made of rope. The more
elaborate indulu are finished with decorative patterns, criss-cross designs and swags,
which are woven into the rope netting.
In past times, when the Zulu were known for their vast herds of cattle, they grouped
their houses into a large circles surrounding a livestock pen called a kraal. The houses
were in turn enclosed by a sturdy timber stockade. The Zulu homestead was then actually
a fortified camp and it served as the pattern for the “war towns” that they developed
during the nineteenth century. These towns could be as much as a half a mile in diameter
and might contain as many as fourteen hundred houses. But with the collapse of Zulu
military power, their subsequent shift to mixed farming, and the decline of the practice of
polygamous marriage, the size of the kraal homestead was diminished as well. Today a
kraal might consist of only a small goat pen and by accompanied be three domed houses.
Bamileke
The Bamileke inhabit the lush forests of western Cameroon and thus have access to large
quantities of bamboo with which to construct their houses. Opting for a square floor plan,
they begin with a stone foundation measuring about 15 feet on each side. A bamboo
frame, standing as much as 20 feet high, is then raised and lashed in place. The roof,
which is conical in shape, is truly a tour de force of carpentry. Rising at least 15 feet
above the ceiling and extending about 3 feet beyond the walls of the house, it is stiffened
by a pyramidal frame and supported by a series of posts standing around the building.
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The walls may be plastered with clay or sided with bamboo poles tied vertically to the
frame. The houses of chiefs follow the same pattern but are larger in every dimension and
may feature doorways decorated with carved wooden frames.
The rectilinear quality of Bamileke space is seen throughout the typical homestead.
All its courtyards, gardens, and fields are either square or rectangular in shape and its
various buildings—the owner’s house, those of his wives and servants, and his
granaries—are all square in plan and are placed at the corners of fenced yards. All these
structures are similar in size except for the owner’s house, which is slightly larger and
taller, a physical indication of his superior social status.
Yoruba
One of the largest ethnic groups in West Africa, millions of Yoruba are found in
southwestern Nigeria where their homeland extends from the Gulf of Guinea through the
adjacent rain forest to the southern portions of the savannah. This environmental
diversity, as might be expected, is reflected in the range of methods which the Yoruba
employ in constructing their houses. Near the coast wood-framed dwellings are covered
with palm leaves, while further inland house wickerwork walls are coated with mud
plaster. In the rain forest and savannah regions, building walls are formed by layers of
mud each about a foot thick and 2 feet high.
Despite the differences in construction technique, all Yoruba houses follow a set of
common plans. The basic house form is a free-standing rectangular building, 10 by 20
feet divided into two rooms of equal size that is covered by a gabled roof. If larger
dwellings are required, several of these units can be linked end to end thus forming a
building with up to eight rooms. Because the Yoruba, at least since the sixteenth century,
have been an urban people, they maintain a primary family residence in town and use
smaller rectangular buildings for shelter when working their farm plots, which can be
located as much as twenty miles away. The Yoruba name for an urban compound is agbo
ile (a flock of houses), a name which suggests that compounds are conceived as clusters
of smaller buildings. The Yoruba compound house is best seen as a gathering of farm
houses on an urban site. In the savannah region a traditional compound might be arranged
around a broad, open courtyard more than 70 feet across, while in the rain forest area the
compound was formed around a smaller courtyard sheltered by the extended roofs of its
surrounding building units. The edges of these roofs are joined together around the edges
of an impluvium, or shallow pool built to catch rain water. Some of the old palaces of
Yoruba chiefs were also built in the impluvial style but they might include up to thirty
courtyards; the vast scale of such a building immediately signaled the ruler’s eminence.
Batammaliba
Occupying a territory that straddles the border between northern Togo and the Republic
of Benin, the Batammaliba (also known as the Tamberma or Somba) are an agricultural
people who practice mixed farming. Their houses, often described as miniature castles,
are visually quite striking. The rooms in a Batammaliba house are located in the bases of
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towerlike units that stand about 14 feet high. Both round and oval in section, these towers
are linked by short connecting walls to form an enclosure about 30 feet in diameter. The
sleeping rooms are placed in a tower standing at the center of the enclosure; those for the
males are on the ground level and for the females, above them in a separate chamber. The
space between this tower and its encircling walls is spanned by heavy rafters and covered
by a two-foot-thick roof. Set at height of 8 feet, the roof provides both a protected shelter
for livestock and a second-floor terrace where the women tend to their domestic duties.
Two granaries, actually large clay jars with holding capacities of hundreds of bushels,
stand atop the forward towers on either side of the entry chamber. Topped with tall
conical grass roofs, their profiles do recall visually the turrets seen on European
fortresses.
Fang
Deep in the rain forests of northern Gabon, the Fang carve out clearings for their villages.
These neatly organized farming settlements consist of two long rows of houses arranged
in straight lines on either side of a broad plaza. At both ends of this grassless commons
stands an aba or council house, a structure reserved as the gathering and eating place for
men. Women and children reside in the collective buildings flanking the central plaza.
The women’s abodes, called kisin, contain both a kitchen and sleeping space. Fang men
may sleep either in a portion of his wife’s house, which is partitioned for his use or in a
separate adjoining house. Lacking windows, these houses are lit only by the front door
that opens toward the center of the village and the rear door that leads to the household
garden.
To build a house, the Fang first assemble a frame made with over one hundred
wooden poles and then cover it with prefabricated panels made of palm leaves and
bamboo strips. The Fang describe this process not as carpentry but as “weaving a house.”
As of the early twenty-first century, a new building type inspired by European influences
has begun to appear in their forest villages. Featuring concrete floors and walls and metal
roofs, they are called cold houses because they contain no cooking fires. Used only on
ritual occasions, this kind of house functions chiefly as a sign of monetary success since
the cost for its construction is ten times that of a traditional house.
Attempts to identify regional patterns for African architecture have provided mainly
deterministic descriptions aimed at linking certain building types with particular
environmental causes. Yet the ethnographic record clearly shows that Africans will react
to similar environmental conditions in different ways. In the savannah region of northern
Ghana, for example, the Dagomba who build round houses live next to the Gonja who
live in rectangular dwellings. Several of the architectural profiles given here show the
marked variation in building forms, construction techniques, and spatial organization
even within a single group. Further, over time some peoples—the Fulani would be a good
example—will change their ideas about what constitutes an acceptable building and thus
develop or borrow new plans, technical means, and modes of decoration. Because
buildings are basically a material reflection of the dynamic forces of culture and history,
they are best understood as expressions of biography rather than geography. Although
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traditional African architecture has yet to be thoroughly documented, it offers a potent
means for understanding the daily lives and concerns of African people.
References
Blier, Suzanne Preston. 1987. The Anatomy of Architecture: Ontology and Metaphor in
Batammaliba Architectural Expression. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Bourdier, Jean-Paul, and Trinh T.Minh-Ha. 1996. Drawn from African Dwellings. Bloomington:
Indiana University Press.
Denyer, Susan. 1978. African Traditional Architecture: An Historical and Geographical
Perspective. New York: Africana Publishing.
Fernandez, James W. 1977. Fang Architectonics. Working Papers in the Traditional Arts, No. 1,
Philadelphia: Institute for the Study of Human Issues.
Oliver, Paul, ed. 1971. Shelter in Africa. London, Barrie and Jenkins.
——. 1987. Dwellings: The House across the World. Austin: University of Texas Press.
Prussin, Labelle. 1969. Architecture in Northern Ghana: A Study in Forms and Functions.
Berkeley: University of California Press.
——. 1986. Hatumere: Islamic Design in West Africa. Berkeley: University of California Press.
Thornton, Robert J. 1980. Space, Time, and Culture among the Iraqw of Tanzania. New York:
Academic Press.
Vlach, John Michael. 1976. Affecting Architecture of the Yoruba. African Arts 10, no. 1:48–53.
JOHN MICHAEL VLACH
See also Batammaliba; Housing, African American Traditions
ARCHIVES OF TRADITIONAL MUSIC
(INDIANA UNIVERSITY)
The Archives of Traditional Music (ATM) fosters the educational and cultural role of
Indiana University through the preservation and dissemination of the world’s music and
oral traditions. Archives holdings document the history of ethnographic sound recording,
from wax cylinders made during museum expeditions in the 1890s to recent commercial
releases on compact disc. The ATM has particularly strong holdings of African music
and oral data. Included in ATM African materials are tapes collected by major scholars in
their respective disciplines, some of the earliest recordings ever made in Africa, as well
as some of the largest collections of African country-specific recordings in existence.
Highlights of the African materials at ATM include the BBC Somali Collection, which
consists of over 400 hours of recordings of speech and music collected by the Somali
Services of the BBC World Service. The BBC Somali Collection, together with other
Somali holdings in the ATM, represents almost certainly the largest sound collection of
Somali materials in the world. The ATM also holds the large and growing Liberia
Collections Project, which includes not only recordings but also photographs and paper
documents, including Liberian government documents that no longer can be found in
Liberia itself. (This appendix refers only to sound recordings, and does not include other
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media formats held by the ATM. Check the website www.onliberia.com for a complete
listing of Liberia Collections Project materials.) The world’s largest collection of
Egyptian Coptic music, collected by Martha Roy from 1932 to 1977, is also held at the
ATM. In addition to these and other ethnographic field collections from all parts of the
African continent, the ATM holds broadcast collections as well as hundreds of
commercial releases of African music. Although they are not included in the appendix
that follows, ATM’s commercial collections are extensive, and include many commercial
releases of field recordings. Particularly noteworthy among the commercial holdings is
the complete International Library of African Music’s Sound of Africa series, comprising
over two hundred commercial releases of field recordings made in southern Africa by
Hugh Tracey.
Many major figures in their respective academic disciplines have deposited collections
at the ATM. These include ethnomusicologists George Herzog (Liberia, 1930–1931),
Alan Merriam (Zaire, Rwanda, and Burundi, 1951–1952, 1959–1960), John Blacking
(South Africa, Uganda, and Zambia, 1957–1965), Roderic Knight (The Gambia and
Senegal, 1970) and Ruth Stone (1970–1976), linguist Charles Bird (Mali, 1968–1978),
art historians Hans Himmelheber (Ivory Coast, Liberia, and Mali, 1950–1960) and Henry
Drewal (Dahomey and Nigeria, 1970–1973), folklorists Phil Peek (Nigeria, 1970–1971)
and John Johnson (Mali and Somalia, 1966–1989), anthropologists Melville and Frances
Herskovitz (Dahomey, Ghana, and Nigeria, 1931) and Jean Rouch (Niger, 1960), and
historian David Robinson (Senegal, 1968–1969). The ATM also holds copies of the Erich
von Hornbostel Demonstration Collection from the Berlin Phonogram-Archiv, which
includes forty-three recordings made in Africa between 1900 and 1913, the Laura
Boulton Collection, including hundreds of recordings of music made on nine expeditions
to Africa between 1929 and 1969, and the Dennis Duerden Collection of music and oral
data recorded in the 1960s in Cameroon, Ghana, Guinea, South Africa, Sierra Leone, the
Gambia, Kenya, Malawi, and Nigeria. These specific references represent merely a
sampling of the rich and extensive holdings of African music and oral data at the ATM.
DANIEL B.REED
See also Appendix: Field and Broadcast Sound Recording Collections at the
Indiana University Archives of Traditional Music.
ASTRONOMY
African astronomy encompasses all the ways that Africans conceptualize celestial bodies.
Though little studied, there is a large corpus of writings in English, French, German, and
Portuguese that describes various aspects of African astronomy and spans five centuries
and the entire continent. Usually, documentary evidence of various types of African
astronomy is embedded in larger ethnographic studies or within travel accounts. Scholars
of African astronomy today scour these records for fragments of information which
nevertheless can lead to new ethnographic fieldwork.
This introduction provides an overview of the types of things one finds in African
astronomy, giving specific examples. The topics presented are celestial names, astrology
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and healing, architecture, calendars, and celestial navigation. The ethnic groups
represented are drawn from both North and sub-Saharan Africa.
Celestial Names
Because the sky and its motions are mapped and well understood, it is known exactly
what people were seeing on any night given good weather conditions, thus, in theory, any
differences that are seen in names should reflect cultural and environmental differences.
South Africa contains around a dozen different ethnic and cultural groups. In 1997,
Keith Snedegar published a work on the starlore of four South African groups: the Sotho,
the Tswana, the Xhosa, and the Zulu people. The Sotho, Tswana, Xhosa, and Zulu people
of South Africa are all part of the Niger-Congo linguistic group. Snedegar identified the
names of various celestial bodies in each of the four groups and provided an analysis of
his findings. He found that some of the local names reflected the physical appearance of
the celestial body, such as the name for Canopus, (Sotho-Twana / Xhosa / Zulu) Naka /
U-Canzibe / uCwazibe, meaning “brilliant,” and the Milky Way, Molalatladi, / Um-nyele
/ umTala, being called a hairy stripe. Canopus is the second brightest star in the night sky
and is not visible from the United States. Most of the names are significant for the local
calendar, including agricultural activities such as the time for planting, the time that
animals are observed to mate or give birth, and the weather. One clear example is the
now no longer practiced traditions of having initiations when Canopus is sighted just
before sunrise. The person who sighted the star first was given a cow by the chief.
Other celestial bodies are named for local animals, with no correlation between the
appearance of the celestial body and the mating or birthing season of the animal. The
South Africans seem to have many celestial bodies named for nondomesticated animals,
a practice which probably reflects their local environment. Further research may reveal
what role these undomesticated animals traditionally played in South African life. The
name for Sirius—the drawer up of the night—Kgogamashego / Imbal’ubusuku / inDosa,
specifically refers to the time to go home after partying all night, which implies an active
nightlife for the locals.
None of the names or activities directly refer to women although it is not clear if
women are doing the planting and hoeing when the Pleiades, known as Selemela /
Selemela / isiLimela, rose, an occurrence which marks the beginning of the planting
season. The four South African groups have celestial objects that reflect seasonal events,
but it is not clear that the sightings themselves were used to determine part of the local
calendar.
The study of celestial names can provide insight into local flora and fauna and tidbits
of cultural practice as shown here. The African voice along with myths and folklore
could provide far more parallels between cultural norms and celestial names. Thus far,
Snedegar’s work is the most comprehensive in this regard.
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Astrology and Healing
Contemporary astronomers take great care to distinguish their field from astrology; yet
historically many “astronomers” made their living as astrologers. Thus, the definition
between astrology and astronomy has not always been as rigid as it now stands. The
study of astrologers in Africa can be useful because they often kept detailed records of
the positions of the sun, moon, and planets over extended periods of time. They differ
from astronomers in that the astrologers then utilized this information for purposes of
divination and prediction.
Tunisia shares borders with Algeria and Libya. Sicily lays to the northeast, a few
hours by boat from the capital of Tunisia, Tunis. Gabes is an oasis town along the eastern
coast of Tunisia. The Tunisians are a mixture of Europeans, Berbers, Turks, Egyptians
and Africans. Tunis is near the famous port of Carthage, which was founded by the
Phoenicians (from what is now Lebanon); since then Tunisia has been conquered by
Rome and the Vandals, incorporated into the Ottoman Empire, and colonized by France.
Most Tunisians are Muslim though there are minority Christian and Jewish populations.
The following is drawn from an interview in 1999 with an occultist healer, who lived
in one of the suburbs outside of Gabes, Tunisia. As part of his healing diagnosis, the
healer requested the client’s time and date of birth, mother’s name, and a description of
the ailment. He then did a series of calculations before giving a treatment plan. When
asked to explain the calculations, he drew several diagrams and, utilizing a translator
carefully, explained that there are the twelve signs of the Zodiac and each sign is
associated with one of the elements: air, water, earth, and fire. Each sign rules the heaven
for 30 days, which he broke down into three 10-day periods. The daylight hours he
divided into twelve equal divisions of time, and the same was done for the night hours,
thus, the “hours” have to vary in length over the course of the year. Each resulting hour is
associated with a color, a symbol, a planet, and can represent one or two signs of the
Zodiac. Similarly, each planet is associated with a color, a metal, and a precious stone.
Thus, for each birth date and time he assigned a color, a symbol, a planet, a sign of the
Zodiac (or two), a metal, and a precious stone. Knowing how each of these related to
each other was important. He utilized all this information in his diagnoses and treatments,
along with the description of the ailment.
Interestingly, he traced his occultist intellectual heritage to Egypt, and the Egyptian
calendar is based on a ten-day week. The healer was conscious of the fact that astrology
is not sanctioned in Islam, however, he felt that what he did, whether right or wrong, was
between himself and God, and no one else’s business. In his community and among his
extended family, he had always been known as a strange child who was not interested in
playing with other children. His father noticed his attraction to the occult books in his
family’s library, so in an effort to dissuade him, threw them in a bonfire. However, the
healer simply wrote to occultists in Europe and other places around the world to identify
books and share techniques, eventually building his own library on occult matters. He
does not accept payment for his work as a healer, yet the community manages to support
him with gifts.
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In many Muslim societies in Africa, there are traditional healers who utilize
astrological information for diagnosis and treatment. The details of how the calculations
are done are hard to locate, although the number of such astrologer/healers seems to be
quite high. Thus far, this type of traditional healer appears to be limited to Muslim
African societies.
Architecture
The Tamberma Batammaliba of Togo are part of the Niger-Congo linguistic group. They
reside in Togo east of the town of Kante. The study of Suzanne Preston Blier, now of
Harvard University, focuses on the architecture of the Batammaliba. The Batammaliba
build two-story houses containing ten “rooms” on each level with mud walls. The name
Batammaliba, which means “those who are the real architects of the earth” (Blier 1987,
2) reflects the importance of architecture within their culture.
The ceremonial calendar of the Batammaliba is a stellar calendar. Certain stars and
constellations, which are associated with deities, rule certain times of the year. When a
star or constellation is observed to set at sunset, that deity is said to have descended to
Earth and begins walking from west to east. The deity rules until it reappears in the east
at sunset. In addition to observing the stars to determine the ceremonial calendar, the
Batammaliba observe the winter solstice. Since the stellar observations determine the true
year, the observation of the solstice is not necessary in terms of creating an accurate
calendar. However, the Sun is important as it represents the deity Kuiye, who is said to
reenter peoples’ homes at midwinter.
Kuiye, the sun god, presides over the month of December. The doors of the
Batammaliba houses are aligned to the midwinter sunset, the sunset of the winter solstice.
The house of Kuiye is thought to lie in the west, and when the sunlight enters the house at
midwinter, it symbolizes the return of Kuiye/the Sun. In addition to the door alignment, a
hole is put in the roof of the bedroom on the second floor, which allows Kuiye to enter
the bedroom when the Sun transits the zenith (directly overhead). There is a hole in the
roof in the middle of the house, which stays covered most of the time, but it is the place
that women go to give birth regardless of the time of day. They position themselves under
the hole and face the door, thus symbolically gaining the protection of Kuiye during their
labor. The bottom floor of the house often contains shrines to various deities which are
aligned to get bathed in sunlight during certain times of the year. When there is a death,
the body is positioned in the same manner as the women giving birth, under the central
hole and facing the door to receive Kuiye’s blessings. The funerals are timed to take
place in December and January, the time of Kuiye. Certain rites take place at sunrise, in
the morning, at midday, in the afternoon, and at sunset symbolically recreating the cycle
of the life of the deceased, while also incorporating ideals of regeneration and rebirth,
like the Sun’s returning each morning.
One of the most important people in the Batammaliba village is the architect, whose
main duty is to build houses. However, as Blier emphasizes, the construction of the house
is filled with ritual. The architect, therefore, is much like a priest in his own right, and is
treated accordingly by the local population, being given gifts and free meals. It is the
architect who actually sets the alignment of the door to the midwinter sunset. Though the
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architect oversees all the rituals associated with building, the aligning the house and
setting of the door are the only items of celestial importance assigned to him that are
mentioned.
There are many archaeological sites in Africa in which astronomical alignments have
been recorded. However, most studies are of unoccupied sites and therefore cultural
connections are often only hypothetical but are occasionally supported by local practice.
Blier’s study is important because it is both a study of an occupied site and a record of the
significance attributed to the alignments by present-day inhabitants.
Calendars
The determination of the calendar year was of vital importance to people all over the
world. Times for migration, planting, harvesting, and hunting needed to be accurately
determined and thus an exact calendar was needed. Since few cultures understood or
practiced the mathematics necessary to calculate the parameters of the Earth’s orbit
around the Sun, all calendars must have been based on years and sometimes generations
of observations. Thus, the determination of the calendar relied upon recognizing and
recording celestial events; however, the method of preserving the knowledge varies.
There are three types of African calendars—lunar, solar, and stellar calendars—with
the combination calendar being the fourth. Lunar calendars are based upon observations
of the moon. One lunar cycle is 29.5 days. The Islamic and Jewish calendars are both
lunar calendars. The problem is that combinations of lunar cycles do not add up to a
calendar year. Twelve lunar cycles is equal to 354 days; while thirteen lunar cycles is
383.5 days. Two examples of African ethnic groups that rely primarily on lunar calendars
are the Ngas of Nigeria and the Mursi of Ethiopia. The Ngas have a system in which the
new year is determined by the last new moon before harvest. The last new moon is
marked by a complicated ceremony referred to as “shooting the moon” (LaPin 1984). The
ceremony has to take place the day before the new moon is sighted, and symbolizes the
high priest (Gwolong Kum) and the Ngas people capturing and killing the moon, which is
deified, for it to be reborn in the new year (the next day). Ideas of rebirth, renewal, and
cleansing by killing the past are all incorporated into the changing of the year for the
Ngas. The Mursi primarily follow a lunar calendar, but use agricultural activities and
celestial markers to determine which is the current month. As such, the month names are
not fixed and are debated until these secondary markers are seen (Turton and Ruggles
1978).
The solar calendars involve observing the position of the sun over the course of the
year. The solstices mark the northern and southern extremes of the Sun’s position.
Measuring the year from winter solstice to winter solstice is 365.24 days. This is called
the tropical year and is 20 minutes short of the calendar year. Stellar calendars involve
observing the position of stars. The ancient Egyptian calendar is a stellar calendar.
Marking the time from seeing a star, for example Aldebaran, at sunset on the horizon,
until the next time Aldebaran appears on the horizon at sunset is 365.25 days. This
measures the true year or the calendar year.
The Akan of Ghana are part of the Niger-Congo linguistic group, and dominate Ghana
north of Accra. They migrated into this region, displacing the Guan people several
African folklore
26
centuries ago. The Guan had a 6-day week, while the trading week from the south was 7
days. What the Akan have done is use all possible combinations of the two weekly
methods which amounts to 42 days. They combine nine of these cycles to make up their
year which add up to 378 days. Every three years they drop an entire cycle making 1092
days total. Not including a leap year, our calendar adds up to 1095 days, thus the Akan
calendar is accurate to within three days. Lunar cycles are only observed along the coast
of Ghana where marine activity is important (especially tides).
The Akan calendar has a definite history, marking the encounter between two cultures:
the Akan and the Guan. It is clear that someone, or a group of people, mathematically
calculated the best method for determining the year while maintaining their 42-day cycle,
a process which must have also involved observations of the solar cycle. This raises
questions such as, What does the calendar imply in a diplomatic sense? And, Why were
the calendars combined, instead of simply designating one the dominant calendar, as in
many other parts of Africa?
Celestial Navigation
The Kerkennah Islands lie 12 miles east of the city of Sfax in Tunisia, North Africa; there
are two islands named Gharbi and Chergui which are translated as “west” and “east,”
respectively. The islands can be reached by passenger ferries run by the Tunisian
government, there are three ferries to fill the eight roundtrips a day schedule. The cost of
the ferry trip is free for locals and about 30 cents for tourists including Tunisian tourists.
The two islands are joined by a causeway, which was originally built by the Romans.
Fourteen villages span the two islands. Three cultures of origin are acknowledged by the
islanders: Berber, Turkish/Islamic, and Greek/Roman. The Tunisian Arabic spoken
throughout the country is part of the Afro-Asiatic linguistic group. The following is taken
from four field seasons on the Kerkennah Islands, focusing on how and why the local
fishermen continue to use the stars for navigation.
The navigation techniques of the Kerkennah fisherman include bathymetric
navigation, an intimate knowledge of the flora and fauna, celestial navigation, an
understanding of the wind, weather, and current patterns, and the memorization of routes.
Bathymetric navigation uses the features of the sea floor to determine location. The
fishermen fish throughout the Gulf of Gabes. A map of the seafloor surrounding
Kerkennah shows depths up to 85 feet in the area between the island and the mainland,
but on average a depth of about 32 feet. The seafloor drops off to the southeast but
remains shallow for some miles to the north. There are very few places deeper than 13
feet to the north of the islands for about a mile. Since the seas around Kerkennah are
shallow, the fishermen use long poles to probe features when they cannot easily see the
bottom. Many of the villages are located at the mouths of sea floor features called loueds.
These features are channels that lead from the villages to deep water. The loueds are said
to be natural features and some say that Allah put them there for the fishermen. Thus, the
sea around Kerkennah is shallow with distinctive topographical features, but also flora
and fauna congregate in particular ocean regions. The fishermen know which regions
sport certain sea grasses and where schools of fish are found and also use this knowledge
for navigation.
African Americans
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The fishermen understand the wind, weather, and current patterns associated with
Kerkennah. The weather must be noted to avoid storms and high winds. Knowing the
direction and strength of the currents allows the fishermen to adjust their course to
account for drift. Both sailing boats and motorized boats are used on Kerkennah. The
sailing boats directly use the wind, but those fisherman using motorized boats use the
wind for finding direction. Thus, in terms of knowledge of the wind, current, and weather
patterns there did not appear to be an obvious distinction between the fishermen using
motorized boats and those who sailed.
The fishermen use visual markers, wind and current patterns, and their knowledge of
the sea floor for navigation, at night they also use the stars. As the sky darkens, the
fishermen first look for Ursa Major and use the leading edge of the scoop to find Polaris.
They know that five times the distance between the two leading stars is the distance to
Polaris. Once they have located Polaris, they get their bearings using Polaris as a marker
for the north. They have memorized the locations of their fish farms relative to the
position of Polaris and their village. The most common name used for Ursa Major was le
sept (the seven), which refers to the number of bright stars in Ursa Major. It was also
referred to as “la cassarel” (the saucepan). Polaris is called Smiya which is Arabic for
north. In English, these are the Big Dipper and the North Star, respectively. The
fishermen of the village of Mellita used other constellations to keep track of time. They
mentioned le fleur de balance which was identified by Cap-tain Ali, one of the current
ferry captains, as the belt of Orion. They estimate that each night le fleur de balance rose
3–5 minutes earlier each night. This figure is about correct for their latitude of 34 degrees
north where it rises 4 minutes earlier each night. The moon was said to rise 1 hour 1/7
minutes later each night. This is roughly true between third quarter and first quarter but is
not accurate for most of the month during most of the year. They use their understanding
of these times to estimate the distances they had traveled. In El-Attaya, a young
fisherman called Orion le bras de balance (Fr., bras arm), rather than le fleur de balance.
The role of celestial navigation is not one of special significance, but rather one of
many effective techniques used by the fishermen. The fishermen of Kerkennah say that
they learned how to navigate from their fathers and grandfathers. They readily
acknowledge their complex heritage when discussing the origins of villages and the
physical characteristics of their fellow islanders, however no one suggested an origin for
their navigation traditions.
The celestial navigation of Kerkennah shows links to the navigation of the ancient
Phoenician, Islamic, and Mediterranean seafarers. The Phoenicians are noted to have
based their navigation system on Ursa Major, Ursa Minor, and Polaris. The fishermen of
Kerkennah use Ursa Major and Polaris, however, other than the use of Polaris, the rest of
the constellation of Ursa Minor is not used. The accounts of Marco Polo and Nicolas de
Conti state that by the sixteenth century, the Islamic seafarers of the Mediterranean used
only Ursa Major and Polaris as the base of their celestial navigation system. This is true
for Kerkennah today since the only other constellation, le fleur de balance, is used for
timekeeping, not for finding direction.
Interestingly, the navigation system of the Kerkennah Islands is changing. The
celestial navigation component is no longer being widely taught to young navigators. The
reason for the change has nothing to do with new technology but is due to education
demands on the young navigators. The Kerkennah Islanders take great pride in the
African folklore
28
performance of their children in all aspects of education. Parents wish their children to
become medical doctors, lawyers, and other such professions. They do not want them to
become fishermen. However, fish is an important part of their diet and the fishing needs
to be done. Therefore, the children are taught a scaled-down version of their traditional
navigation to enable them to travel safely to nearby fishing areas and return, only. They
are not taught night navigation.
Navigation practices of Africa have received little study. However, the National
Science Foundation has recently provided funds to do a study of the navigation practices
in East Africa. Hopefully, the results of this study will lead to more scholarship on
African celestial navigation methods.
References
Bartle, Philip F.W. 1978. Forty Days: The Akan Calendar Africa 48, no. 1:80–84.
Blier, Suzanne Preston. 1987. The Anatomy of Architecture: Ontology and Metaphor in
Batammaliba Architectural Expression. New York: Cambridge University Press.
Frampton, J. 1929. The Travels of Marco Polo. London: Argonaut Press.
Holbrook, J.C. 1998. Unpublished interview with Suzanne Preston Blier.
——. 1999. Unpublished interview in Gabes, Tunisia.
——. 2002. Celestial Navigation, Charfia, and the Blind Navigator. Berlin: The Max Planck
Institute for the History of Science, in press.
LaPin, Dierdre, and Francis Speed. 1984. Sons of the moon: A Film. Berkeley: University of
California Extension Media Center.
Snedegar, K. 1997. Ikhwezi. Mercury 26:12–15.
Turton, D., and C.Ruggles. 1978. Agreeing to Disagree: The Measurement of Duration in a
Southwestern Ethiopian Community, Current Anthropology 19, no. 3, 585–600.
JARITA C.HOLBROOK
See also Architecture; Cardinal Directions; Cosmology; Divination
AZANDE
See Tricksters: Ture of the Azande
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B
BACHAMA
See Joking Relationships
BANJO: AFRICAN ROOTS
African musicians, forcibly brought to the New World as slaves, brought with them from
West Africa a plucked lute with a hide-covered-gourd sound chamber and several strings
including a short thumb drone string. Interaction with Scottish and Irish musicians
resulted, by the 1830s, in the invention of the five-string wooden rim banjo, which
retained the African short thumb string drone and radically influenced American music.
History
Today the banjo is heard around the world, from the Blue Ridge Mountains to the
Amazon River basin. The twentieth-century banjo tradition rests upon a much older
African heritage. West African griots (storyteller/musicians) and other nomadic
musicians brought the forerunner of the banjo from their homeland to the New World
over the course of the seventeenth century. This early instrument appears in West Africa
by 1621, and in the West Indies (Martinique) by 1678. Today, Wolof jeles from the
Savannah grasslands of Senegal, Mande jillikea of Mali, and other praise singers and
storytellers of various African regions still play plucked lutes with a short thumb drone
string and a long pole neck attached to a gourd in a knocking or beating style.
The lute was already present in West Africa by the seventh century; another version of
the instrument arrived, with Islam, in the eleventh century. Thus, well before the slave
trade was fully developed—at least by the fourteenth century—two strong traditions
flourished. For example, for the halam-like tidinet (known since at least 1824), Braknas
musicians prefer the black tuning that allows for spectacular effects rather than the white
Arabic tuning favored by educated people. The Wolof tunings, like mountain banjo
tunings, are called high tuning and low tuning, and other specialized tunings are used for
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30
only one or two tunes. Wolof “middle tuning” is related to the way that the tidinet was
played by their enemies for 150 years; thus the practice is a testament to cultural
exchange.
African Songs
In 1789, the African Equiano said, “We are a nation of dancers, musicians, and poets.
Thus every great event…is celebrated in public dances which are accompanied with
songs and music suited to the occasion.” The Ashanti, for example, thought it “absurd” to
worship in any way other than with chanting or singing. The dances might last for half an
hour, and some individual did special dances in the center of the group circle. Sometimes
the Ashanti celebrated a successful hunt or a special seasonal festival, such as the “Yam
Customs.”
African music is especially improvisational, conversational, and interactive. The
aesthetic is more rhythmically complex and diverse, and less melodically intricate, than
Scottish or Irish music. Music of Africa especially emphasizes singing. Nevertheless, in
1623, Captain Richard Jobson wrote in his The Golden Trade or a Discovery of the River
Gamba [Gambia] and the Golden Trade of the Aethiopiam that he observed during his
travels that the griot offered a “perfect resemblance to the Irish Rimer.” Before 1800, the
Scottish surgeon Mungo Park recited the duties of the singing men (Jillikea) encountered
in the land of the Mandingos and the Minkes. By improvising texts and tunes to earn
money, the griots create “extempore songs” to honor kings, to “divert the fatigue” of the
traveling group, or to obtain “welcome from strangers” (Southern).
Enslaved West African griots arrived in the Carribean in the seventeenth century, and
the American South in the eighteenth century. African gourd seeds had preceded the
musicians across the waters to the New World. These memory keepers, praise singers,
and healers played the creole bania in Dutch Guiana with a short thumb string tuned as a
low bass drone. Before 1701, the songsters invented the strum strump in Jamaica, and by
1744 decorated their similar calibash merrywang with carving and rib-bands. Perhaps
inspired by the English cittern or Spanish guitar, the tuning pegs and flat neck of the
strum strump easily permitted the sliding and bending of notes. Another account from
Jamaica written before the end of the eighteenth century describes slaves arriving with
African instruments actually in their hands en route to Savannah, Georgia: They “were
made to exercise, and encouraged, by the music [‘of their beloved banjar,’] to sing and
dance.” For “this purpose, such rude instruments are collected before their departure”
from Guinea.
Written records express few of the thoughts of Africans upon being forcibly removed
from their homeland, undergoing the treacherous Middle Passage, and being put to work
as slaves in the Caribbean and the American colonies. Folksongs, however express and
preserve these crucial memories. Enslaved songsters and musicianers sang
improvisational, sometimes satirical songs. Signifying songs offer clues as to what
Africans thought of being forced to submit to, and adopt the ways of, the predominant
white culture. “The Guinea Negro Song” about Virginia was also sung in North Carolina
by former slaves:
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31
The Engeley man he {s}teal-a me,
And give me pretty red coat-ee.
The ’Melican [American] man he ta-kee me
And make me fence rail to-tee.
The Eng-lie man he ’teal me,
A lack ta lou-li-la-na,
A lack ta lou-la-lay,
And carry me to Ber-gi-my [Virginia].
By the mid-eighteenth century, an African-American cultural tradition was well
established in the colonies of Maryland and Virginia (the invention of the cotton gin had
increased the need for slaves, and thus the slave labor force). Many of the early arrivals to
the colonies were Wolof griots or other musicians. Their musical influence was felt early
on. In his “1744 Eclogues in Imitation of Virgil’s,” Reverend Cradock dramatizes the
singing and enamored courtship of Pompey for his slave companion Daphen:
I sing as well as evern Negro sung/
Nor Sambo has a Banjar better strung.
According to other eighteenth-century accounts, blacks improvised lyric songs and music
for dancing. Storytellers and musicians made and played a three- or four-string “large
gourd, or pumpion” instrument covered with a bladder or skin and “with a long neck
attached,” strung with horsehair, hemp, or catgut. The instrument had tuning pegs and
sometimes a flat fingerboard. For almost one hundred years, only African American
musicians played the banjar in a thumping style now called clawhammer.
The Banjo in North America
The banjo plays both rhythm and melody and has traditionally interacted with percussion;
in an African context, percussion would be represented by the so-called talking drums.
But after the Stono insurrection (1740) in South Carolina, the authorities made drumming
(and brass horns) illegal in the English colonies. Fortunately, the banjo, and the echoes of
African traditions and memories it carries, survived.
A banjo player in Virginia in 1838 suggests the vitality of the African American
playing tradition. Wearing a “long white cowtail, queued with red ribbon” and a hat “with
peacock feathers” and “pods of red pepper,” he played for a dance. For his “tumming,”
this honored musician was served a “huge loaf of larded persimmon bread with a gourd
of beer” even before the men clapped “Juber up and Juber down, Juber all around the
town.” This scene shows how the banjo and “patting” Juba, for example, began to replace
African folklore
32
drumming. This shift was brought about by the marked influence of the West African
griots.
African Americans, perhaps exclusively, played the gourd banjo in North America
from at least 1740 to about 1830. In Narrative of the Life of an American Slave (1845),
Frederick Douglass says: “The slaves selected to go to the great Farm… would make the
dense old woods, for miles around, reverberate with their wild songs, revealing at once
the highest joy and the deepest sadness.”
African American banjo players lived on the mountain frontier by 1800; they often
worked as rounders and roustabouts on the Mississippi river and its tributaries. The two
major areas of early black banjo playing, still influential today, were the region covered
by Maryland, Virginia, and North Carolina and, later, the New Orleans and Mississippi
River region. In the Deep South region, especially at Congo Square, the banjo and drum
flourished as well.
The call and response musical exchange of shanties, field hollers, group corn-shucking
songs, spirituals, and the banjo songs and dance music grew as different African peoples
met and mixed as slaves. Sea shanties, rowing song, and long shore and river roustabout
songs also influenced the old banjo tradition. Black songster and banjo traditions were
strongly influencing each other, while also gaining exposure to European and American
forms of music.
Musical Innovators
Most early African American musical innovators remain unidentified, but a few specific
names are available to us today. The banjo player Picayune Butler (d. 1864) became
famous from New Orleans to New York: In approximately 1830, the entertainer George
Nichols “first sang ‘Jim Crow’ as a clown, afterwards as a Negro. He first conceived the
idea from…a banjo player, known [along the river route] from New Orleans to Cincinnati
as Picayune Butler.” At least one banjo song—“Picayune Butler’s Come To Town”—
suggests the excitement created by this musician’s arrival. Butler sang on the street for
money, accompanied himself “on his four stringed banjo,” and provided minstrel Nichols
with the song “Picayune Butler is Going Away.” He prefigured the traveling country
bluesman.
Butler did not take up the five-string wooden-rim banjo invented around 1842, but
over the more than thirty years of his career that is documented, he was apparently
influenced enough by European approaches to melody to add a fourth string to his banjo.
In 1857, Picayune Butler played in a New York banjo contest. According to
eyewitnesses, he would have won if he had “not been indisposed. Even though he broke
two of his four banjo strings, he still plucked through the required waltz, reel, schottische,
polka, and jig with artistry.”
African American banjo players exchanged musical ideas and created a new, distinct,
complex, and little recognized genre of banjo songs. Banjo players also contributed to the
emergence of fiddle songs in their exchanges with white Scottish and Irish fiddlers, who
had arrived in North America in the eighteenth century. Both the banjo and the African
American playing style, characterized by knocking, beating, and thumping, began to take
hold among whites by the 1830s.
African Americans
33
Southern musicians, who became crucial teachers and performers, often remained
close to home. But some, like Sweeney of Appomattox and his brothers, carried banjo
music to diverse musicians and the American public through fairs, circuses, and later the
enormously popular minstrel shows. No early white banjo player was more influential
than Joel Sweeney. By the early 1840s, he was credited (perhaps over enthusiastically)
with the creation of a new banjo which had five strings and an open back made,
originally, from a cheese hoop. What has confused many scholars and music historians is
that the fifth string he added was not the short thumb string which arrived from Africa
that we now call the fifth string, but the bass (fourth) string. These radical changes led
folklorists John and Alan Lomax to declare that the five-string banjo is “America’s only
original folk instrument.” This instrument created by blacks and whites together was, by
1843, widely heard across the country.
Eventually rural blacks, such as the fieldhand Jim Crow and the boatman Gumbo
Chaff, became stage types and figures for the greater white population, well known in the
urban cultural arena. Minstrelsy initially celebrated African American traditions, but
increasingly grew commercialized and began to dismiss, satirize, and caricature blacks.
William Henry “Master Juba” Lane (1825–1853) was probably the only African
American actively involved in minstrelsy before 1858. A noted banjo player and dancer,
he learned jigs and reels from “Uncle” Jim Lowe in the saloons and dance halls of New
York’s Five Points and Harlem neighborhoods. Lane is immortalized by Charles Dickens
in his Notes on America (1842). Eventually, Lane left the United States to pursue a career
in England; he performed on stage at the Vauxhall Gardens in London in 1848.
Minstrel tradition eventually resulted in the flourishing of classical parlor, orchestra,
and ragtime picking styles. Sturdy manufactured instruments began to be made for the
minstrels and resulted in the commercial production and popularization of numerous
attractive instruments during the late nineteenth century; a later result was the invention
of the tenor banjo (played in quartets and jazz bands) and the bluegrass banjo, and their
accompanying plectrum and finger picking styles.
Cross-cultural Music Exchange
Steamboat travel took off in 1850, and cultural exchange increased. Blacks (often leased
out by their Southern masters) sometimes worked side by side in the flourishing water
transport industry with Irish and German laborers. One amusing anecdote is that of an
unnamed old man who worked on the Mississippi. He said that many of the packet boat
songs, such as “Natchez Under the Hill,” were “reels an’ jigs,” not spirituals, and that
once he became a Christian he should not sing these “sinful songs,” which were “often
brought in by and caught from the Irish.” Fortunately the musicians, in keeping with
much in African American tradition, did not separate the sacred and the secular, and thus
did not “disremember” all the “devilment songs.” Many continued to play the old
lonesome “breakdowns” and “jump up” songs. On some steamboats, like the Joe Fowler,
every “evening after dinner [instrumental] music was provided by some of the
colored/‘cabin boys,’” and for a few thrilling moments, one was allowed to occupy the
center of the floor and “do the cakewalk.”
African folklore
34
Cultural and regional exchange on the frontier and the rivers expanded even more
when blacks and whites traveled and mixed during the Civil War, particularly on board
ships. In 1876, a journalist spent many evenings with black longshoremen in Cincinnati
waterfront dance halls. He printed texts of twelve social and work songs accompanied by
the banjo and fiddle. Eventually their interaction created the string band, which initially
emerged from the pairing of the banjo and fiddle.
When banjo playing was still strongly shared by traditional black and white players,
this cross-cultural musical exchange gave rise to at least three types of banjo songs,
identified on the basis of the relationship between the instrumental and vocal melodies.
Built upon brief repeated riffing melodic or rhythmic figures, banjo songs tend to be
rhythmically complex, creating a conversational, call and response relationship between
the vocal and the instrumental melodies, which often bear little resemblance to each
other.
The banjo played a significant role in the working and social lives of African
Americans on board ships, in the fields, on the railroad, in the mines, and at home. The
African American banjo tradition charts a pathway from unaccompanied field hollers and
group work songs to the emergence of guitar-accompanied country and blues songs. The
banjo songs of longing and joy comprise an unbroken tradition that expresses a shift in
social roles, from enslaved African to American citizen.
About 1900, during the era of increasingly restrictive and racist Jim Crow laws, black
banjo players began to put down their banjos, setting their songs, comprised of
increasingly assertive commentary, to the now readily available guitar, and set about
creating the genre known as the blues. Nonetheless, the roots of the old-time banjo
tradition live in the memories and hands of a few musicians who play in a style that was
popular at the turn of the twentieth century. The instrument still echoes at the crossroads
between West African griots, African slaves in the North American colonies, traveling
country bluesmen, and the mountain and minstrel banjo players who eventually formed
old-time string bands and banjo orchestras. Their descendants in the twentieth century
created country music, bluegrass, and revival bands, as well as New Orleans marching
music, ragtime, swing, Dixieland jazz, and big band jazz. The banjo—America’s first
musical invention—has made an invaluable contribution to the American indigenous
music heritage.
References
Coolen, Michael Theodore. 1984. Senegambia Archetypes for the American Folk Banjo. Western
Folklore 43:146–61.
Conway, Cecelia. 1995. African Banjo Echoes in Appalachia. Knoxville: University of Tennessee
Press.
Conway, Cecelia and Scott Odell. 1998. Black Banjo Songsters of North Carolina and Virginia.
Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Folkways.
Epstein, Dena J. 1977. Sinful Tunes and Spirituals: Black Folk Music to the Civil War. Urbana:
Univeristy of Illinois Press.
Kubik, Gerhard. 1989. South Africa: The Southern African periphery: Babnjo Traditions in Zambia
and Malawii. The World of Music, 31, no. 1:3–39.
Hugill, Stan. 1961. Shanties from the Seven Seas. Mystic, Conn.: Mystic Seaport Museum.
African Americans
35
Levine, Lawrence W. 1977. Black Culture and Consciousness: Afro-American Folk Thought from
Slavery to Freedom. New York: Oxford University Press.
Nathans, Hans. 1962. Dan Emmett and the Rise of Early Negro Minstrelsy. Norman: University of
Oklahoma Press.
Oliver, Paul. 1970. Savannah Syncopators: African Retentions in the Blues. The Blues Series, ed.
Paul Oliver. New York: Stein and Day.
Webb, Robert Lloyd. 1984. Ring the Banjar: The Banjo in America from Folklore to Factory.
Cambridge: The MIT Museum, 1984.
Wheeler, Mary. 1944. Steamboatin’ Days. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press.
CECELIA CONWAY
See also Diaspora; Musical Instruments: Focus on Namibia; Music in Africa:
Overview
BAO
Bao, which means “board” in Swahili, is an East African board game. This game is a
variation of Mancala, a group of board games particularly popular in Africa, but are also
played in Asia and the Americas. It is played by two players who commonly use a
wooden board with four rows of eight holes and sixty-four counters. The rules are the
most complex of all Mancala variations. They allow counters to be distributed in both
clockwise and counter-clockwise directions and the direction may change during a move.
Two enlarged or square holes in the center of the board allow counters to accumulate
during the game to facilitate multiple captures. Contrary to most Mancala variations, the
counters are not all on the board at the start of play. Forty-four of them enter the game
one by one with each turn and when all are entered they will remain on the board.
Captured counters are not taken from the board but are distributed in the rows of the
player who captured them. This arrangement also allows for multiple captures. The
captures in Bao create the highest turnover of counters between two players in a game
compared to those in any other Mancala variation or board game. Capturing is obligatory
and Bao rules dictate the outcome of a move once it has started. The possible length or
complexity of a move may require complex mental calculations. This has provided Bao
with the status of most difficult Mancala variation and made it an object of psychological
investigation.
Bao is played in East Africa and its presence follows the Swahili trade routes and the
spread of Islam in that region. Players can be found mostly in Kenya and Tanzania but
also in, for instance, Malawi, Mozambique, Madagascar, Somalia and Zambia. The oldest
boards in museum collections with the characteristic enlarged holes in the center of the
board were acquired in the 1890s. The first description of Bao was given by Flacourt in
1658 and concerned players in Madagascar. His description does not mention the two
enlarged holes in the center of the board but otherwise clearly refers to Bao as it is known
today. Detailed rules of Bao (which have taken two to fifteen pages to describe in the Bao
literature!), have not appeared in print until the second half of the twentieth century.
Today the rules found in Kenya, Tanzania and, for instance, Madagascar are practically
identical. The distribution of Bao rules and the strong similarities that still exist suggests
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that the rules of Bao have remained similar throughout the Swahili-speaking region since
their distribution occurred at least two centuries ago or as early as the 1600s. The history
of master players of Bao in Zanzibar confirms that the same Bao rules were played in
Zanzibar for more than one hundred years. It also shows that championship play has been
in place for this period of time.
Since the game was distributed in the Swahili-speaking regions of East Africa, there is
a specific Swahili vocabulary in use describing moves and rules in the game.
Championship play also created a vocabulary for strategic moves. Takata and mtaji are
common words in most regions. Takata or takasa means “to cleanse” and refers to a
move that does not make a capture. Although takata is sometimes used in other Mancala
variations in the area, mtaji appears limited to Bao. It refers to a possible capture move in
the second part of the game, the part in which all counters are on the board. The counters,
commonly seeds from the caesalpinia bonduc, are known as komwe, although kete and
soo are also used. Kitakomwe is then a strategic term which is only used in Bao and,
among other meanings, refers to the battle for the capture of the enlarged hole. The
enlarged hole is often known as kuu, meaning “big,” or nyumba meaning “house.” The
penultimate holes on the inner two rows, are known as kumbi, and kitakimbi refers to the
attacks on this particular position. This idiom for positions and move sequences in Bao is
another indication of the central role of championship play in Bao history.
Bao is played mostly by men in Bao clubs. Similar to other Mancala variations, the
scene of play may involve a crowd of players commenting on a single game and frequent
exchanges of challenges and judgments by players and spectators. Speed appears an
important element reflected in often short thinking times and the almost universal
dexterity in the execution of complex moves. Distributing a number of seeds in
consecutive holes in one throw has become a common skill among players. Children
sometimes play in Bao clubs before the arrival of the men while both women and
children may play at home in the sand, but are known to use different or simplified rules.
The islands of Pemba and Zanzibar as well as the mainland of Tanzania, particularly
the coastal cities, are best known for championship Bao. A psychological study of Bao in
Zanzibar reveals that Bao experts possess cognitive abilities that are not known for other
board games and are beyond the capabilities of other humans. The complex captures and
high turnover of seeds require intricate calculations of moves. Masters of Bao excel in
making such calculations, have strategic foresight and often specialize in characteristic
parts of the game.
At least three Bao masters have reached legendary status and became regarded as the
best players of their time. Ibrahimi Said Mkiwa (1916–2000), known as Mkiwa, was born
on mainland Tanzania, but moved to Zanzibar where he learned Bao and became a
master of the game. He toured both Zanzibar, Pemba and Dar Es Salaam to become the
most illustrious player of the 1940s and 1950s. Shaame Kondo Khamisi (1938–1984?),
known as Nahodha (“Captain”), was born in Tumbatu, off the coast of Zanzibar. He did
not start playing until he frequented Zanzibar town in his early twenties. He soon rivaled
Mkiwa in the 1960s and 1970s. He was frequently invited to tournaments on Tanzania
mainland, sometimes by President Nyerere who himself was an enthusiastic player. The
1990s showed a shift to Dar Es Salaam for excellence in Bao where Juma Ali Njowine
(1956–), known as Njowine, has gained fame. In 1995 and 1997, Abdulrahim Muhiddin
Foum (1971–) from Zanzibar, known as Abdu, became the first to play Bao blindfolded.
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This involved playing a game of Bao without assistance of a board or other aid and in
which moves are only communicated verbally with a player who does have access to a
board with counters. Only the starting point and direction of a move needed to be
communicated.
The 1994 Bao tournament in Zanzibar.
Photo © Alex de Voogt.
The intricate rules of Bao have not facilitated the introduction of Bao to Europe or the
Americas, or encouraged programming of the rules by computer scientists. Apart from
most complex and volatile, Bao also remains the most popular African Mancala variation
next to Wari.
References
Flacourt, E. de. 1658. Histoire de la Grande Isle Madagascar. Paris.
Townshend, P. 1982. Bao (Mankala): The Swahili Ethic in African Idiom. Paideuma 28:175–191.
Townshend, P. 1986. Games in Culture: A Contextual Analysis of the Swahili Board Game and Its
Relevance to Variation in African Mankala. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Cambridge.
Voogt, A.J. de. 1995. Limits of the Mind: Towards a Characterisation of Bao Mastership. Leiden:
CNWS Publications.
ALEX DE VOOGT
See also Mancala, Wari
BASCOM, WILLIAM R. (1912–1981)
A quiet, patient man,
over the years—not
documentation of the
Melville Herskovits’s
William Bascom’s scholarship continues to grow in importance
only his monumental work on divination, but his careful
continuity of African traditions in the Americas. Bascom was
first graduate student and remained Herskovits’s colleague at
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Northwestern for many years. A generation of major Africanists studied with this
extraordinary pair of scholars at Northwestern University. Although they taught together
for many years and they coedited Continuity and Change in African Cultures (1959),
Bascom was not just a shadow of Herskovits. He became director of the Lowie (now
Hearst) Museum in 1957 and stayed at University of California, Berkeley, for the rest of
his life.
Bascom first went to study the Yoruba of Nigeria in 1938, basing his work in Ife
where, as a mark of his rapport with the people, he was given two of the extraordinary
bronze heads by the Oni of Ife. These were returned to Ife a few years later. He also
carried out field research in Ghana, and in the Americas he worked with Yoruba
descendents in Cuba (where he met his wife Berta) and with Gullah speakers on the
Georgia Sea Islands.
Although Bascom was initiated into the Yoruba Ogboni society, he honored their
pledge of secrecy and never published anything he learned of this organization. But he
did publish other basic material on the Yoruba, such as his ethnography, The Yoruba of
Southwestern Nigeria, and numerous articles. Among his most important works, one
must note his magnificent study of Yoruba divination, Ifa Divination: Communication
Between Men and God (1969) and the no less important monograph on the related system
of divination, Sixteen Cowries (1980).
In addition to his major research on Yoruba divination in Africa and the Americas, he
also produced significant publications in social anthropology, the visual arts, and culture
change. Bascom’s essays on the study of folklore are among the most important defining
statements of the discipline. A majority of these major publications appeared in the
Journal of American Folklore and include Folklore and Anthropology (1953), Four
Functions of Folklore (1954), Verbal Art (1955), The Myth-Ritual Theory (1957),
Folklore Research in Africa (1964), The Forms of Folklore: Prose Narratives (1965). In
addition to these seminal articles, he published more broadly on Africa. Of special
importance is African Dilemma Tales (1975), which surveyed this narrative form so
representative of African interest in debate and puzzlement.
After his appointment to the Lowie Museum directorship, he became more involved in
African visual arts, although he had published a small volume with Paul Gebauer in 1953
for the Milwaukee Public Museum. African Arts was a fine catalog of an 1967 exhibition
and in 1973 Bascom published African Art in Cultural Perspective: An Introduction.
It is in his final series of publications that we find his exemplary scholarship and
lasting contribution to African and African American studies. Bascom and Richard
Dorson, the then dean of American folklorists, engaged in a debate over the origins of
African American tales, with Dorson claiming these tales were derived from Europe,
Asia, and the Americas. Although many disputed these claims, it was William Bascom
who carefully documented the obvious African roots of many African American
narratives in a series of articles in Research in African Literatures (later published
posthumously as African Folktales in America). Intriguingly, Bascom and Dorson died
on the same day: September 11, 1981.
William Bascom was the epitome of the unassuming, careful scholar whose research
continues to guide us through significant publications in folklore and anthropology as
well as African and African American studies.
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References
Bascom, William R. 1944. The Sociological Role of the Yoruba Cult-Group. Memoirs of the
American Anthropological Association, No. 63. Menasha, Wis: American Anthropological
Association.
——. 1967. African Arts: An Exhibition at the Lowie Museum. Berkeley: University of California
Press.
——. 1969a. The Yoruba of Southwestern Nigeria. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston.
——. 1969b. Ifa Divination: Communication Between Gods and Men in West Africa. Bloomington:
Indiana University Press.
——. 1972. Shango in the New World. Occasional Publications of the African and Afro-American
Research Institute, No.4. Austin: Univ. of Texas Press.
——. 1973. African Arts in Cultural Perspective: An Introduction. New York: Norton.
——. 1975. African Dilemma Tales. Paris: Mouton.
——. 1980. Sixteen Cowries: Yoruba Divination from Africa to the New World. Bloomington:
Indiana University Press.
Bascom, William R., and Melville Herskovits, eds. 1959. Continuity and Change in African
Cultures.
Ottenberg, Simon, ed., 1982. African Religious Groups and Beliefs: Papers in Honor of William
R.Bascom. Meerut, India: Folklore Institute.
PHILIP M.PEEK
See also Diaspora; Dilemma Tales; Divination: Overview; Ifa
BASKETRY: AFRICA
Men and women in Africa have produced a breathtaking array of basketry objects from
time immemorial. Unlike ceramics, baskets deteriorate easily, but the ancient
archaeological specimens unburied from the dry sands and tombs of Egypt, and the
paintings in these tombs, suggest that basketry in Africa, as elsewhere, is simultaneously
a very versatile and conservative art. Centuries-old techniques are still employed to
produce similarly shaped objects. Many objects have fallen into disuse, being replaced by
modern, mass-produced equivalents. Others have been invented, which sometimes draw
upon non-African traditions.
Uses
Grass, palm, wood, reed, sisal, bamboo, less often animal and synthetic fibers; a knife, an
awl, some container for soaking the fibers in water—these are common ingredients in
African basket making. Unlike the textile arts, basketry dispenses everywhere with
frames, bobbins, and shuttles. Its technological simplicity is the source of both its
limitations and possibilities. In the African continent, different kinds of interwoven
objects, from simple ropes, slings, handles, and wrappers to more complex formats not
always in the shape of containers—as the word basketry might suggest—have been put to
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a wide variety of uses over time. Dresses, rain capes, sandals, belts, hats, bracelets and
anklets, necklaces, headdresses, purses, sacks, and combs have been used to cover and
adorn the body; boxes and cases, to enclose personal possessions; hampers and baskets of
different sizes and shapes, to carry and store provisions; trays, to winnow grain, and
loosely woven objects, to sieve flour and strain liquids; bowls and plates, to serve dried
foods, and some impermeable bowls with tightly woven and often coated walls, to serve
and store beverages. There have been houses whose walls, doors, and roofs are basketry
objects, and woven mats and furniture inside them. Fences, enclosures, large granaries,
beehives, poultry carriers and coops have also been interwoven. Quivers have been used
for carrying spears, and sheaths, knives; different traps, for catching birds, rodents, and
fish; helmets and shields, for protecting the warrior in battle; canoes and ship sails, for
transportation. All manner of receptacles, including such fancy shapes as the nested
wedding baskets from Upper Volta, have functioned as trade measures. In the musical
domain, one finds rattles and less often harps, and in the ritual domain, basketry masks—
such as those of the Chewa of Malawi and the Salampasu of the Democratic Republic of
the Congo—and more often containers: the Chokwe and related peoples have divined
with a basket filled with odds and ends, and the Sango of Gabon have placed the potent
reliquary figures, bones, and so forth, of their Bwiti cult inside baskets.
Equally important, baskets have been instrumental in exploitative contexts imposed by
forces and actors outside Africa. In Angola, during the precolonial caravan trade, porters
often carried provisions and goods inside interwoven hampers. The carrying receptacles
that workers used at the Congolese mine pits in the early twentieth century, and at the
coffee plantations in colonial Angola were baskets.
Convenient as any classification of basketry items by domain and function may be, it
should not be forgotten that many baskets in Africa are multifunctional within and across
domains. A bowl that serves for storing flour may also serve for covering it. A hamper
that functions as a carrying receptacle may also function as a trade measure. A mat that is
used for sitting may also be used for wrapping the dead. Utility and ceremony are not
qualities intrinsic to different interwoven objects. A basket may simultaneously or
sequentially serve different utilitarian and ceremonial or ritual functions. Any
classification that rigidly distinguishes baskets according to their function, and opposes
ritual to utility is likely to omit, if not misunderstand, the socio-cultural diversity of
Africa.
Decoration
For decoration purposes, the African basket maker may simply choose to play with
different stitches and techniques; or incorporate dyed fibers into the work, creating
various designs; or add other materials onto the basket surface, such as beads, cowries,
metal, feathers, leather, animal hairs, cloth, and buttons. The Ibo of Nigeria, for example,
cover the entire outer surface of some of their baskets with shells. Less often, the African
basket maker allows the added material to play a structural—instead of merely
decorative—role. Some bowls from the Democratic Republic of the Congo and ifu lidded
baskets from the Aghem-Fungom area of the Cameroon Grassfields have wooden feet.
The interlaced decorations engraved on the wooden surface of the Kuba bowls’ feet are
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characteristic of Kuba matting. It is not uncommon across the continent to see basketry
motifs reproduced in other artistic mediums, such as wood, metal, and clay. The converse
is also true. Basketry designs are sometimes transposed from other mediums. The Zulu
women in South Africa draw inspiration from their beadwork.
Profusely decorated baskets are often associated with political leadership and ritual. A
case in point is the impressive pagoda-style hat ornamented with brass plates, which
some Mongo chiefs in the Democratic Republic of the Congo wore in the past. Chiefs
and other prominent figures, however, do not hold a monopoly over embellishment, or at
least, not over all types of embellishment. Many utilitarian basketry objects used by
common people are impressively decorated. Prior to their forced displacement, the
Angolan Hambukushu refugees residing in Ngamiland, northwestern Botswana, used to
ornate their everyday vase-shaped baskets with beads. The ifu basket from Cameroon,
decorated though it is with beads and cowries, is a powerful symbol of womanhood. It is
not only chiefs and kings who appreciate adornment and elaborate textures. Usefulness
and decoration are not always incompatible. In any case, art does not per force require
decoration. Is a plain, unadorned basket necessarily lacking in artistry and sophistication?
Woman making basket. Photo © Sonia
Silva.
Two opposite views recur: some claim that the objects created prior to colonialism are
artistically superior to the ones manufactured today for local use or sale to outsiders, the
first being authentic and the second, artistically valueless. Others hold that the so-called
authentic baskets are (or were) mostly utilitarian, hardly displaying any artistry,
especially if compared with the ones being produced today for the international market,
which reveal a greater emphasis on design and technical expertise. Art, the latter claim,
can only emerge when the basket maker is set free from the heavy burden of
functionality.
Artistry, however, requires neither authenticity nor uselessness. Functional, authentic
baskets and tourist ones may or may not meet the requirements, whatever they are.
Though basketry is ubiquitous in Africa, today, as yesterday, different peoples accord
different degrees of importance to this art in their material culture, and exhibit different
degrees of excellence and creativity in the baskets they make. The same holds true,
needless to say, for the individual basket makers within each people.
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Boy with hat. Photo © Sonia Silva.
Techniques
Evidence of all main basketry techniques is found in Africa: the coil (mainly the sewn
type), the plait (mainly the twill), the twine, and the stake-and-strand, sometimes termed
wickerwork. It is possible to roughly distinguish areas where certain techniques
predominate: for example, the area of Ethiopia, Burundi, and Rwanda, and the vast
region of Southern Africa are best known for their exquisite sewed coiling. The
Ethiopians coil food-tables with lustrous colors that may change up to ten times in a
linear inch of stitches; the Hutu and Tutsi of Burundi and Rwanda are renowned for their
delicate and gracious bowls with conical lids and spiral motifs; the Zulu, for their
colorful, geometrically decorated flared baskets; and the Hambukushu and Bayei, for the
named motifs on their jars and bowls. Inspired by the local environment, mainly the
animal world, these motifs are known by highly distinctive names: “Tail of the Swallow,”
“Knees of the Tortoise,” “Urine of the Bull.”
In the Democratic Republic of the Congo, central and eastern Zambia, northern
Mozambique, and along the coast of East Africa, the twill predominates. The Congolese
Tetela, the Zambian Ambo and Ngoni, and the Mozambican Makonde produce most of
their basket ware using this technique. The ones with the most impressive and complex
patterns, some of them figurative, are found in the lower Congo and Madagascar.
Throughout the continent the presence of the open twine and stake-and-strand is
ubiquitous. Twined openwork is used in the manufacture of fishing and/or hunting traps,
and stake-and-strand is the technique employed in the making of all manner of fences,
enclosures, and walls. Weaving by means of twine and wickerwork is the most
widespread basketry technique in Africa.
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Specialization
The art of basketry in Africa is structured and perceived along gender lines. It is generally
correct to say that women coil while men weave, but cases disproving this rule exist. The
Tsonga who lived in southern Mozambique in the early twentieth century stored their
prized possessions in a coiled box, made by men, and men in the Cameroon Grassfields
once coiled small, handheld battle shields. If men may coil, women may weave. Women
in Cabinda twill exquisite mats celebrated for their proverbial designs. In Kenya they
twine the world-famous kiondo bag. The Tonga women twine the multifunctional cisuo
basket.
Where both men and women create baskets, it has been suggested that each gender
specializes in the kind of objects it needs to carry out its daily tasks: women might make
household items and men nets, for example. However, among the Ambo, Ngoni,
Makonde, and Tsonga, women’s baskets are the work of men, for only they weave. The
only instance across Africa in which one category of basketry objects is time after time
manufactured and utilized by the same gender, the male, is the traps used for fishing and
hunting. It is also true that baskets often symbolize the gender of their users, especially in
the case of women. In Aghem-Fungom a woman’s big farming basket symbolizes her
role as a cultivator and nurturer; when she dies, the basket is smashed and buried with
her.
The Tonga of southern Zambia say that their basket makers are chosen and inspired by
ancestral spirits. In most African contexts, however, the art is open to all, provided one is
of the appropriate sex. All it takes to learn is to observe an older relative or neighbor at
work, and practice a great deal. Typically, most accomplished basket makers are late
middle-age to elderly persons who rarely if ever become full-time specialists. They
devote most of their time to other economic activities, such as farming, fishing, and
hunting, and basketry is an activity they squeeze in between others, or carry out during
the less busy periods of the yearly economic cycles. As they see it, basketry yields an
additional income, providing enough money to buy paraffin, soap, oil, or sugar. When
promoters of handicrafts or other individuals either assure the purchasing of baskets or
otherwise fund the basket makers, these tend to be younger, and the time they spend
making baskets longer.
Regional and International Markets
Many baskets are produced for use in the artist’s household or on commission. Hawkers
selling the baskets that they make are also frequent, as is bulk sale at regional markets. In
Cote d’Ivoire, several men sell their twined, lidded baskets at the Korhogo market. Loads
of baskets have also been directly sold to missionaries, traders, explorers, researchers,
development workers, and tourists. The Botswana motif baskets and the Kenyan sisal
bags have for decades been sold to marketing agents, who place them on the international
market. Middlepersons inform the basket makers of the tastes and expectations of their
distant clients: new, neat, and brightly decorated bowls, jars, platters, table mats, and
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44
bags are in high demand. Granaries and fishing baskets have no place in the Western
home, and an old, used look is only welcome in other African artistic expressions, mainly
wood carvings, which are highly valued as fine art in the West. In order to adapt to these
expectations, basket makers have successfully employed different strategies. Some have
relied entirely on traditional techniques and materials. Others have relied on old
techniques but used new materials, such as artificial dyes and synthetic fibers, from
plastic to telephone wire. Others still have adopted new techniques. In the 1960s the Bala
(Songye) men in the Democratic Republic of the Congo used a new wrapping and
assembling technique to produce raffia objects, from baskets to porte-verres, which they
sold to Europeans in the cities. To this date, the Luvale living in northwestern Zambia use
a somewhat equivalent technique to make shopping and laundry baskets, tea trays, and
nested boxes, which they sell to well-to-do locals, government staff, and missionaries.
Basketry in Africa is very much alive. Both traditional and modern models can be
seen. It is sometimes assumed that the drastic historical changes that Africa has
undergone during the last century have slowly but surely eradicated most traditional
basketry. Baskets fell into disuse one after the other. Innumerable baskets: however, were
abandoned long before. As early as the second millennium CE wooden boxes were
replaced the coiled toiletry baskets in Thebes, Egypt. In the first decade of the twentieth
century the Tsonga nhlaba basket was already a rare sight. The adoption of styles and
techniques from neighboring groups and even non-Africans precedes colonialism. The
old, indeed traditional matting technique of sewing together individual plaited strips,
recurrent along the east coast of Africa, most probably originates in the Arab world. The
finest mats are woven in Madagascar, but examples are found as far west as the
Democratic Republic of the Congo. The changes of the last century have not irremediably
devastated the making and use of all baskets. Next to plastic buckets and enamel basins,
baskets will be part of the African arts for a long time to come.
References
The African-American Institute. 1978. African Grass and Fiber Arts. June–October 1978. New
York: The African-American Institute.
Dias, Margot. 1968. Contribuição para o Estudo da Cestaria em Gaza—Moçambique.
Ethnographica 4, no. 13:4–19.
Ebert, Melinda C. 1977. Patterns of Manufacture and Use of Baskets among Basarwa of the Nata
River Region. Botwana Notes and Records 9:69–83.
Geary, Christraud. 1987. Basketry in the Aghem-Fungom Area of the Cameroon Grassfields.
African Arts 20, no. 3:42–53, 89–90.
Institute de Antropologia. 1988. Cestaria Tradicional em Africa. Coimbra, Portugal: Institute de
Antropologia, Universidade de Coimbra.
Levinsohn, Rhoda. 1984. Art and Craft of Southern Africa: Treasures in Transition. Craighall:
Delta Books.
Merriam, Alan P. 1968. Art and Economics in Basongye Raffia Basketry. African Arts 2, no. 1:14–
17, 73.
Newman, Thelma R. 1974. Contemporary Africa Arts and Crafts: On-Site Working with Art Forms
and Processes. New York: Crown.
Sieber, Roy. 1980. Furniture and Household Objects. New York: The American Federation of
Arts.
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Trowell, Margaret. 1960. African Design. London: Faber and Faber.
SÓNIA SILVA
See also Basketry, African American
BASKETRY, AFRICAN AMERICAN
Clearly related to African basketry, African American baskets reflect some values of
African world cultures, both continental and diasporic. For example, the coiled basketry
styles have come across the Atlantic Ocean from West Africa to the Caribbean islands to
the southeast coast of the United States. In traditional African societies, the textile and
fiber arts are used in matting for building walls, floor coverings and decorative household
items. Natural fibers are found in the environment, either harvested from the wild or
remaining to be gleaned from crop harvest. Although some of the uses differed between
the African and African American situations, the harvested and gleaned fibers are utilized
in culture-specific items such as chair bottoms, mats, hats, and carrying and storage
baskets of all types.
Varieties of basket styles which date from plantation times include: split oak or ash,
coiled grass, twilled and twined fibers, and pine straw. These styles have been derived
from the African heritage of African Americans and, in some instances, from the Native
American people to whom the Africans escaped in preemancipation times. Some of the
cultural influences among the Native, African, and European American groups have not
yet been pinpointed, so that precise attributions may be made as to the actual provenience
of each element in material and non-material culture traits.
Treatments of the various natural fibers include drying them in sun or air, and wetting
those once dried to render them pliable. The sweet grass used for the coiled baskets is a
single strand grass (Muhlenbergia filipes) which grows in the southern marshlands. It is
dried after harvesting from the wild by hanging in the sun or spreading on a flat roof. The
rushels or bulrushes (Juncus roemerianus) are dried away from direct sunlight as they
have a heavier stalk. The white oak split materials must be harvested at a certain time in
the spring when the wood is just right for the splitting and drying. It can be stored in the
earth to keep the moisture content stable until it can be processed and used. The pine
straw (Pinus pilustris) is picked up from the ground in the region from about 100 miles
inland to the coast where the longleaf pine grows with needles 8–9 inches long.
The materials are, for the most part, worked by hand. Often the basket makers wear
aprons or some other covering over their clothing for protection against the pricking of
the cut straw and other materials. Tools usually include an awl, a draw shave, a knife, and
scissors among others. The draw shave and mallet are used to split the oak, ash or other
wood, which may be woven into various shapes. The awl, originally made from animal
bone (hence called the “bone”), is now made by cutting off and smoothing down the bowl
end of a spoon handle so that it may be thrust into the bundled sweetgrass. As the
opening is accomplished by this method, the palmetto strip, cut on the end to form a
point, is pulled through the aperture and drawn through very tightly so as to secure the
preceding round of bundled straw to the following one. The basketmakers call this
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46
activity “sewing” the baskets, not weaving as it would be with the wood split or other
baskets.
Origins of these baskets are in African cultures that were chiefly devoted to hunting,
gathering, and agriculture in the past. Dwellings, containers, clothing, and ceremonial
items among others were formed of natural substances that were found in the
environment. Africans in the Americas adapted to the new surroundings in reaffirming
their basketry styles, shapes, forms and uses. Nevertheless, the coiled baskets of the
southeast coastal United States have definitely been linked with the coiled basketry of the
Senegambian region in West Africa as well as other areas. The baskets from both sides of
the Atlantic have been shown to be congruent in their outlines and construction.
References
Arnow, Jan. 1987. By Southern Hands. Birmingham: Oxmoor House.
Chase, Judith Wragg. 1971. Afro-American Art and Craft. New York: Van Nostrand Reinhold.
Davis, Gerald. 1973. Afro-American Coil Basketry in Charleston County, South Carolina. In
American Folklife, ed. Don Yoder. Austin: University of Texas Press.
Perdue, Robert, E. Jr. 1968. African Baskets in South Carolina. Economic Botany 22:289–92.
Rosengarten, Dale. 1986. Row Upon Row: Seagrass Baskets of the South Carolina Lowcountry.
Columbia: McKissick Museum, University of South Carolina.
Teleki, Gloria Roth. 1975. The Baskets of Rural America. New York: Dutton.
Twining, Mary Arnold. 1978. Harvesting and Heritage: A Comparison of Afro-American and
African Basketry. Southern Folklore Quarterly 42:159–74.
MARY ARNOLD TWINING
See also Basketry, Africa; Diaspora
BATAMMALIBA
See Architecture; Astronomy
BEADWORK
In its simplest form, beadwork is just a string of beads, which may be organized in any
number of ways, although some beadwork can be extremely elaborate. Some of the
evidence for early beadwork is indirect, that is, from its representation on figures: for
instance, terra-cottas from Nok, (first century BCE), and from Djenne-Jeno in Mali (sixth
century); or on bronzes from Ife (early fourteenth century) and Benin City (from the
fifteenth century onwards). The beads depicted on these pieces could have been made
locally from metal, terra-cotta, wood, or even sun-dried clay. Multiple strings of beads
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are shown as worn around the neck as chokers, or in longer strands to cover the chest;
others are worn round ankles or wrists; there are also some elaborately beaded
headdresses. Sometimes, archaeological excavations reveal actual ancient beadwork in
situ, which gives a clearer sense of beadwork was actually made and worn. In southern
Africa, there were burials with imported glass beads at fifteenth-century Ingombe Ilede,
in the Zambezi valley; and other early burials in a cave at Klasies River Mouth, South
Africa, with numerous shell and ostrich eggshell beads that indicated the body areas
around which these were worn. At Igbo-Ukwu, in southern Nigeria, the ninth-century
burial chamber of a dignitary showed that the corpse was buried wearing long armlets of
blue beads threaded on copper wire, which survived in their original form; beads around
the skull and the lower legs indicated a beaded headdress and beaded anklets. Many other
beads were found lying in rows, which suggested that they were sewn onto a cloth in that
order. Over 63,000 beads were found on that site.
Beginning in the nineteenth century, imported beads became valued as prestige
markers, and were reserved for important people simply because of their distant, even
“exotic,” place of origin. Glass beads were brought into Africa from outside the
continent. Starting from the early first millennium, traders exported beads into western
Africa from the Near East (this is the type of bead so abundant at Igbo-Ukwu); other
traders brought beads of the Indo-Pacific type into the coastal areas of eastern Africa.
From the late fifteenth century onward, Portuguese and other Europeans exported
Venetian glass beads, which eventually superseded the glass beads of Indian origin.
Traders and explorers (both Arab and European) had to pay a fee in beads and other
goods in order to pass through the land of the king or chief concerned. This setup meant
that he had a virtual monopoly of any beads that arrived. It also meant that beads, which
were relatively scarce before the 1800s, became increasingly common, and those kings
and notables who had previously used elephant ivory, lion and leopard skins, and feathers
as regalia came to replace them with beads, whether distinctive beads, or beads in
enormous quantity. An example is the Zulu king Dingane, who, in the early nineteenth
century, reserved most of the glass beads that came into the country for himself and his
wives; a contemporary account describes Dingane and his wives as extensively covered
with fringed bead garments. In another extreme example, the king of the Kuba, in Zaire,
in the late twentieth century wears beadwork regalia weighing 185 lbs.
Craft Specialization
There was no strict rule dictating that beads and beadwork were made or worn by men or
by women; it depended on the culture of the ethnic group concerned. In making stone
beads, men did the main part of the work, leaving the finishing touches of polishing and
threading to the women; likewise, with metal beads. In contrast, the ostrich eggshell
beads made by the San (Bushmen) were made by women. Bead working tends to be
carried out according to the complexity and the prestige value of the work involved. In
Yorubaland, Nigeria, professional male bead workers were employed to make the beaded
crowns, robes, and other regalia worn by the city kings. This skill was the virtual
monopoly of one extended family, whose members traveled about the country to carry
out their commissions. Men also made ritual beadwork such as diviner’s bags and
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necklaces, since things to do with royalty and religion were generally a male preserve. In
Cameroon, also, professional men beaded thrones, stools, calabashes, and masks.
Beadwork for more ordinary “civilian” wear was strung by women, who mostly used
imported Venetian seed beads. Beads were and are worn as ornament, and might include
a charm against illness or misfortune. Typically, this beadwork would start with a simple
string of beads round a baby’s neck or waist, which was added to as the child grew. Girl
babies graduated to a small fringe on a belt, and as she grew to marriageable age, she
would accumulate more bead ornaments. Married women would modify their beadwork
as they progressed from being a newly married bride, to one who had her first child, to
one whose son had been initiated, and so on. Beadworking was usually a social activity,
during which designs were shared and taught to the younger headers.
Symbolism
Beads played an important part in marking the stages in a woman’s life. When a girl
reached puberty, it was an occasion for celebration, as she was now of an age to marry
and bear children, her most important role. The maidens of the Iraqw of Tanzania, during
their seclusion in the bush, while learning a woman’s duties, made back skirts of beaded
leather, which are among the most spectacular examples of beadwork from eastern
Africa. Among the Kalahari, girls attend a “coming out” ceremony at which they wear
numerous massive coral beads, which may have to be borrowed from members of the
extended family. Something similar still happens in Ghana, where, at the Dipo comingof-age ceremony, girls of the Krobo and Ga ethnic groups wear almost nothing but a
mass of beads. This is designed to enhance the girl’s charms and to improve her chances
of finding a good husband. If the family does not have enough beads, extra ones will be
rented from another family that has the beads, but not a girl of the right age. Even after a
woman has married, she may wear a string of beads round her waist; such beads are
private between her and her husband, and she may rattle these beads as a “come on”
signal. Prostitutes in parts of western Africa could use the same signal as an
advertisement, while in Zambia, a woman who wore her string of waist beads visibly
round her neck was regarded as a loose woman. In eastern Africa, men wore relatively
little beadwork, while women would wear beaded ornaments on their heads and round
their necks; their leather garments were usually embellished with beadwork. In southern
Africa, on the other hand, both men and women wore beadwork, sometimes in great
quantity. The beadwork of the Ndebele, Xhosa, and Zulu is perhaps the best known, and
the Zulu “love letters” the best known of them all.
Almost everything written about the Zulu includes a mention of Zulu love letters.
These were first written about in 1907; subsequent studies of the subject appeared in
1951, 1963 and 1994. There is quite a body of misconception about them, based perhaps
on cursory reading; and in some ways the term Zulu love tokens is preferable. Certain
colors are associated with meanings; and if the colors are assembled in a sequence, they
can then be “read off and the message conveyed. Such messages are not to be thought of
as letters written with words, and to be read in private; their context is in a nonliterate
society, where the women and girls do their beading together, and where everybody
knows how things are within the community. In this way, a girl can indicate that she
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admires a particular young man, and regrets that he has not asked to marry her; or a
woman can make a formalized declaration about her relationships or her position within
the community. One source of information, a Zulu princess Magogo Buthelezi said, “to
appreciate and understand these letters it is necessary to have a sound knowledge of the
people’s mode of living, their psychology, traditions, folklore etc.” She also said, “The
modern illiterate miss will also use her own designs and colors to mislead her parents and
rivals.” Beadwork messages of this sort were very specific to one particular area; outside
that area, they would have a different meaning, or even none at all. As literacy becomes
more widespread in KwaZulu, the use of beadwork to convey messages is dying out. It
seems that to “read” one of those pieces of beadwork, one has to take the center as the
starting point; this produces symmetry in the color arrangements, which is important in
any interpretation, and also has a pleasing aesthetic effect.
In a contemporary bead production
factory the beads are still made by
hand. Kazuri Beads Company,
Nairobi, Kenya. Photo © Hal Noss,
www.halnoss.com
Manufacture
There are two primary methods of making glass beads. They may be wound: here a small
amount of glass is wound onto a wire mandrel or rod to form the desired bead, which is
allowed to cool before being slipped off the wire. These may be recognized by minute air
bubbles, which go horizontally to the perforation. The other, commoner sorts of beads are
drawn beads; where a gather of glass is drawn out to form a long tube, which is then cut
up into the required lengths and finished off. The small seed beads are all made in this
way, as well as beads with longitudinal stripes; the layered chevron beads are a
spectacular type of drawn bead. With drawn beads, the air bubbles run vertically, parallel
to the perforation.
There are several distinct types of beads. Chevron beads, which range in size from 0.3
to 2 inches, are made of layers of white, red, and blue glass in a star-shaped mould; the
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Sorting beads for sale and export at
Kazuri Beads Company, Nairobi,
Kenya. Photo © Hal Noss,
www.halnoss.com
ends are ground so that a chevron design appears. There are usually five layers, but the
oldest have seven. Aggrey beads, first mentioned in the early sixteenth century, which
seem to have come from the Guinea Coast, were highly prized for their rarity, and have
been the subject of fierce academic argument. Indeed, almost any valuable bead has been
called an aggrey bead and are now thought to be tubular translucent dichroic beads, blue
in reflected light, but greenish-yellow when seen with the light behind them. They may
originally have been a rare blue coral, found in the Gulf of Guinea, but nobody really
knows. Red coral from the Mediterranean was imported into Benin City, Nigeria, by the
Portuguese from the late fifteenth century and made into beads reserved for the king and
his court. These became important enough to warrant a yearly festival of their own, in
which all the beads were assembled and fortified by a blood sacrifice, which reempowered them and augmented the strength of the royal relics and the king’s power.
There are perhaps more powder-glass beads found in Africa than anywhere else,
particularly in Ghana. There is one sort, called Bodom, which is the most highly valued
of them all, reserved for the most important people. Their origin is forgotten: they are
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“dug out of the ground.” Furthermore, folklore has it that if one of those beads were put
in a pot with a charm and some mashed plantains, another bead would appear after one
year. There are many other recipes for the propagation of these beads.
Trade
Beads are used to indicate status, for adornment, and as currency. The trade in beads
became a major industry, employing bead makers in Venice, Bohemia, Germany, and
France, to name a few centers. Shipping handlers operated from the United Kingdom and
the Netherlands. In Ghana (the former Gold Coast) alone, an average of thirty-four metric
tons of glass beads were imported annually between 1827 and 1841; the value of this
trade amounted to 15.7 percent of the total in 1846. The volume of beads that flowed into
the whole of Africa must have been staggering. Now the flow of trade goes the other
way, with fashion designers successfully using African beads and beadwork to enhance
their creations.
References
Carey, M. 1986. Beads and Beadwork of East and South Africa. Aylesbury, U.K.: Shire Books.
——. 1991. Beads and Beadwork of West and Central Africa. Aylesbury, U.K.: Shire Books.
Drewal, H.J., and J.Mason. 1998. Beads, Body and Soul: Art and Light in the Yoruha Universe. Los
Angeles: UCLA Fowler Museum.
Evocations of the Child: Fertility Figures of the Southern African Region. 1998. South Africa:
Human and Rousseau.
Fagg, W.B. 1980. Yoruba Beadwork: Art of Nigeria. Lund Humphries.
Francis, Jr., Peter. 1993. Where Beads are Loved (Ghana, West Africa). New York: Lapis Route
Books, The Center for Bead Research.
Magogo (Ka Dinuzulu Ka Cetshwayo Ka Mpande) Buthelezi, Princess. 1963. Interview by Killie
Campbell. Killie Campbell African Library, Campbell Collection, University of Natal, Durban,
South Africa.
Morris, J., and E.Preston-Whyte. 1994. Speaking with Beads. London: Thames and Hudson.
Stevenson, M., and M.Graham-Stewart. 2000. South East African Beadwork 1850–1910: From
Adornment to Artefact to Art. South Africa: Fern wood Press.
Wood, M. 1996. Chapter on Zulu Beadwork in Zulu Treasures: of Kings and Commoners. South
Africa: KwaZulu Cultural Museum.
MARGRET CAREY
See also Body Arts
BEMBA
See History and Religious Rituals: Bemba Traditions
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BENIN (PEOPLE’S REPUBLIC OF
BENIN)
Located on the coast of West Africa and neighbored by Togo, Burkina Faso, Niger, and
Nigeria, Benin is a tropical country of nearly 6,220,000 people. The city of Porto-Novo is
the country’s capital and home to 330,000 people. Cotonou is the second most important
city where the university and Supreme Court are located. Ninety-nine percent of the
population is African, mostly consisting of the Fon, Adja, Yoruba, and Bariba peoples.
The remaining 1 percent of the population is of European descent. Most Beninois practice
traditional indigenous religions such as Voodoo (70%), while 15 percent are Muslim and
15 percent are Christian.
On August 1, 1960, Benin (called Dahomey until an official name change in 1975)
gained its independence from France after sixty-eight years of colonization. After twentytwo years of a one-party dictatorship, a multiparty democracy was restored in 1990.
Benin remains one of the least developed countries in world, a fact that can be partially
attributed to limited economic growth, which has worsened in recent years. Benin has no
significant natural resources, although the agricultural sector grows palm products,
cassava, corn, coffee, yams, cotton, cocoa, and groundnuts. The country’s small
industries produce shoes, beer, cement, palm oil, and textiles.
In 1625, the Fon people established the notorious Dahomey kingdom. It was a highly
organized bureaucratic empire that had an army that included both women and men. The
former military units gave rise to exaggerated European stories about “Amazon women.”
The kingdom also produced sophisticated arts such as Fon applique cloths, which were
made for and used by the kings. The art form is still practiced today, although it is made
primarily for tourists. The palace and its exceptional bas reliefs were restored in the
1990s.
JENNIFER JOYCE
BENIN KINGDOM
See Body Arts: Body Decoration in Africa; Queen Mothers
BERBERS
See Maghrib: Berber Peoples: Their Language and Folklore
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BIRTH AND DEATH RITUALS AMONG
THE GIKUYU
Due to social changes—principally, the predominance of Christian and Western practices
felt to be markers of “modernity,” and new economic realities—Gikuyu birth and death
rituals are no longer performed with the frequency of the past. Individual choice and
financial ability largely determine what rituals, or their aspects, are performed. For
instance, the actual birth of a child is no longer a communally celebrated ritual event;
such a celebration seems to have been replaced by the annual birthday party, a ritual
dominant all over Kenya. Whereas the slaughter of sheep or goats was, in the past,
connected to religious or quasi-religious occasions, now Kenyans generally stage “goateating” parties to celebrate just about any milestone in a family member’s life:
circumcision, passing an exam, negotiations for a marriage proposal, a promotion at
work, or college graduation. Furthermore, most Gikuyu death rituals have been
substituted by Christian-like funeral rites.
Numbering about six million, the Gikuyu are a Bantu group whose mythical point of
origin is Mukurue wa Gathanga, in what is the contemporary Murang’a District of
Central Kenya. Four mountains that hem the land (and had a central place within the
tribe’s religious practices) roughly mark off the area the Gikuyu have traditionally
occupied: Mount Kenya, Ol-Donyo Sabuk, the Aberdare Ranges, and the Ngong Hills.
Gikuyu prayers traditionally began with an invocation to these four mountains. In terms
of contemporary administrative units, the Gikuyu live in the Nyeri, Murang’a, Thika and
Kiambu districts of Kenya’s Central province, while the Ndia and Gicugu peoples,
“cousins” of the Gikuyu, occupy the Kirinyaga district of the same province. The
Nyandarua district within the province was established as a squatter settlement scheme
after the attainment of Kenyan independence. Its population is predominantly Gikuyu,
but since they are “returnees” from all over Kenya, their brethren living within the
traditional lands regard them as a diaspora community. An even bigger diaspora lives in
the Rift Valley and Nairobi provinces, engaged in agriculture and business. The Meru,
Embu and Kamba are neighbors of the Gikuyu in the Eastern province while the Maasai
are generally found to the south and southwest in the Rift Valley province. Intermarriage
occurs regularly with neighboring nations, as well as others, but by far the most
historically conspicuous are Gikuyu-Maasai marriages (Muriuki 1974, 29; Sankan 1971,
ix-xi; 19–20).
Preparations for Birth
Spread out over a vast territory, the Gikuyu traditionally emphasized different elements
of the birth and death practices, depending on the dominant practices within their regions,
but the broad parameters of such customs are the same. Preparations for birth began
during a woman’s pregnancy, when she must eat certain foods, and avoid others, for the
welfare of both herself and the fetus. The actual birth took place in the woman’s hut
under the supervision of another woman beyond childbearing age (kĩheti). The midwife’s
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age was important, since it was believed that as long as a woman was still sexually active,
she was unclean and therefore could not perform a midwife’s role. A sheep sacrifice was
offered to Ngai in order to ease a difficult birth. Great care was taken to prevent the
newborn baby from falling to the ground, for this was seen as an ominous beginning; if it
happened, a sheep sacrifice was required to cleanse the baby. The father would then be
invited to the hut’s porch from where he inquired cryptically from the attending women
as to “whom” they had “seen.” They then announced the baby’s identity based on its rank
in relation to its siblings within a fixed patrilineal naming system, but this was varied in
exceptional circumstances, such as matrilocal households. The women ululated five times
for a boy’s birth and four times for that of a girl. Once the baby had been bathed, the
afterbirth and the severed bit of the umbilical cord were wrapped with leaves from a
mũthakwa tree and placed under a bush for consumption by scavengers. The afterbirth
was never buried; doing so was considered tantamount to burying a woman’s fertility.
Traditional Practices after Birth
During the four or five days after giving birth that a new mother traditionally spent in
seclusion (the exact number of days depending on the child’s sex), the dirt in the hut was
piled up in a corner; only after the seclusion was over would the mother sweep it out to
the garbage pit. During this period, her head hair, alongside every woman who had
shared a meal with her, was shaved on this day. Her head hair was shaved on days that
anyone had shared a meal with her. She did not bathe until she had been shaved.
Sweeping, shaving, and bathing were meant to take away the uncleanness associated with
the biological process of birth. The mother’s purification was finally achieved through
the slaughter of a ram.
After the clean-up on the fourth or fifth day, the baby’s father fetched food from the
fields in order to symbolically give the baby a bountiful start in life. The collective eating
of the food by the baby’s siblings was meant to welcome the new member into the
family. It was customary to call upon the spirit of Ngai (the Gikuyu deity), as well as
ancestral spirits, ngoma (the sleeping ones), during birth ceremonies.
Special circumstances could lead to variation in the ritual procedure outlined above.
These might be difficult births, the birth of twins as a firstborn (always counted in the
singular) or the death of mother, child, or both during birth. Severely handicapped babies
were suffocated to death, while firstborn twins were thrown into the bush. Purification
rituals took place immediately after the disposal of bodies. A month from the day of the
mother’s shaving, her husband had sexual intercourse twice with her to ceremonially
cleanse the baby from the contagion arising from its contact with the mother’s amniotic
fluids. The “clean” husband contracted the uncleanness and thus neutralized it, according
to traditional belief.
The Second Birth
The second birth, also known as returning the child to the womb, took place at varied
ages between two and a half to ten years, but it had to be before the actual circumcision.
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It centered upon the awareness that the child had attained an age at which it could be sent
off to live more independently of the mother, in preparation for the transition to maturity.
Generally, though, it was done when the child was considered knowledgeable enough to
warrant “expulsion” from the mother’s bed, so that the husband could pay conjugal visits
without inhibition.
Under an elder’s guidance, a ram whose fur was uniform in color was used to purify
any uncleanness (thahu) the child may have acquired from its kins(wo)men. Specifics of
this ritual vary, but it generally involved mixing soil (taken from under the ram’s
hooves), clean river water and the ram’s taatha (undigested contents of sheep’s
intestines) in the calabash used to bathe the child after its birth. The child had to be the
first to eat the meat during this ceremony. The mother’s head was then shaved by a
midwife after which she shaved her child. A boy and girl who had already gone through
the second birth ritual would fetch four leaves or branches from the mũkenia and mũtei
trees; these were used to splash the contents of the calabash upon first the child and then
the mother from head to toe. The mother repeated the process upon herself. This process
was done four times on both of them regardless of the child’s sex. The men present
continuously chanted “May you be rid of any defilement that may have come to you” as
the splashing was done. Seated on a stool, the mother would hold the child in her lap as a
midwife bound them together with a cord made of of the sheep’s intestines. Acting as if
to cut the cord with a razor, the midwife would declare, “I sever” upon which the mother
would reply, “sever [the ram’s cord], but not that between parent and child” (Gathigira
1986, 24; Leakey 1977 vol. 2, 554). After the fourth or fifth such chant (depending on the
child’s gender), the cord was severed as the women ululated the appropriate number of
times. A girl child then accompanied her mother to the field to collect either food or
firewood, while a boy, having received a bow and a set of arrows, accompanied his father
on a hunt. The child was thus inducted into its future adult roles. After the family
members left, the neighbors finished up the food and beer and then departed. Thereafter,
a boy slept in his father’s hut and a girl in the girls’ bedroom (kĩrĩrĩ) of her mother’s hut.
That night the parents marked the ceremony’s end by having ceremonial sexual
intercourse twice.
Adoption into Another Clan
Adoption into another clan was also regarded as a symbolic birth. This was done, for
instance, to a man (never a woman) who had been cast out of his clan. This type of
“birth” involved the slaughter of a ram, the swearing of an oath and the “binding” of a
newcomer to his new family by a strip of the ram’s skin. Symbolic birth also took place
when Gikuyu Karing’a (“authentic” Gikuyu) married individuals from Gikuyu clans
deemed to be “impure” (Gikuyu kia Ukabi) because of their mixed Gikuyu-Maasai blood.
The bride’s hands were bound with strips of sheepskin as a medicine man used taatha to
cleanse her of impurities arising from her mixed heritage. A similar ceremony would be
performed upon a woman marrying into a Gikuyu-Maasai clan. Finally, since the
blacksmiths’ (Aturi) clan specialized in the vital iron-working trade, Gikuyu from
“outsider” clans had first to be symbolically reborn if they wished to marry into it. A goat
was slaughtered for the cleansing ceremony, a strip of its skin would “bind” the
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newcomer to the clan and a metal wrist coil, or a ring for a male entrant, was given as a
mark of membership in the blacksmiths’ clan.
Purification Following Death
A popular Gikuyu tale holds that long ago Ngai’s messenger, Chameleon, had been sent
to relay the very simply phrased but extremely important message that man would never
die. However, Chameleon was too slow and Ngai, perhaps eager that the people should
receive quickly the good tidings, dispatched a second messenger, the bird Nyamindigi.
For unknown reasons, the bird corrupted the original message; man would die and perish
forever, like the roots of the mythical mũkongoe plant. (This may help to explain why
Chameleon is not a very popular Gikuyu folktale character!) A common death
superstition relates to an owl hooting near a homestead or perching anywhere within its
compound. This is taken as an omen of imminent death within that homestead. In the past
this required purification, but in contemporary times it is enough to just hurl objects at the
bird to drive it away.
The Gikuyu interred only elders and the rich, since the burial of young people was
symbolically seen as burying the nation’s future. Corpses of the poor and those that had
not attained eldership were normally abandoned in bushes and scavengers, mainly
hyenas, determined their fate. Because of his legendary greed, and for his role in
consuming corpses, Hyena in Gikuyu folktales is “rewarded” with the most contemptible
roles. Barring special circumstances, such as deaths occurring within the compound
where circumcision initiates were being hosted, entering a deceased person’s hut or
physical contact with a corpse was deemed to be contaminating and required cleansing by
a medicine man. In the case of a child who died before its second birth, the mother
carried the corpse from the homestead and the father carried a flaming torch. The torch
and the child’s possessions, such as the bathing calabash, were placed alongside the
corpse, which was set on the ground with the head facing towards the homestead. This
positioning indicated a connection with the home even in death. Other than cases of this
nature, women never handled corpses. However, if the child had gone through the second
birth, the father carried the corpse; only in regard to such a child was he allowed to
display his grief. As a sign of sorrow, a bereaved woman shaved her husband’s head and
she was in turn shaved by a similarly grieving female neighbor or, in her absence, a
woman beyond childbearing age. This process was repeated upon the child’s mother after
three days. Application of castor oil on her body and the breaking of all earthenware pots
used in cooking the oil were further marks of such a mother’s grief. A second shaving, a
bathing session in the river and the anointing of her body with newly cooked castor oil
marked the end of the woman’s grief phase. A ram was then slaughtered and a medicine
man used its taatha to cleanse the woman before she conceived again.
Near-death adults, other than male elders and elderly widows who had been co-wives,
were evacuated from the homestead and secluded in shelters in bushes near the village set
aside for this purpose (Leakey 1977, vol. 2, 938–986). The aim was to ward off the
contagion that their dying within the homestead would have wrought. Close relatives
tended them until they died but if they recovered, a ceremony to purify and welcome
them back was held. Before relatives who had been sent to the bushes could return to
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their homestead, they had their heads shaved by an old woman and were cleansed by a
medicine man. A poor person without relatives to attend to him or her in the bush was left
to die in his or her hut. Thorn bushes were used to bar the hut’s door and a hole was dug
out in the rear to enable entry for scavengers. Afterwards, either a clansman or someone
who had benefited in some way from the deceased would provide a sheep with which to
pay a volunteer, usually a stranger, to raze the hut. Such purging served to drive the
deceased’s spirit away from the homestead. An obscure practice said to have been
performed on childless spinsters and bachelors involved the former’s genitalia being
stuffed with a long maize cob while the latter’s buttocks were smeared with ash before
their corpses were abandoned in the bush. This was a symbolic way of expunging such
individuals from social records; having produced no progeny who could name their
children after them, they were seen as having led unproductive lives that were best
forgotten.
Only sons who had undergone their second birth, under supervision of respected
elders, could prepare their father’s body for interment, if he had been admitted to
eldership, or have any physical contact with it. The rest of the family was expected to
play other ceremonial roles like cooking, keeping the fires in the homestead burning, and
feeding the stock since they could not be taken to pasture until the man had been buried.
In principle, daughters were not allowed near their dead father’s body, and even in the
case of a senior widow who qualified for an elder’s interment, only unmarried daughters
could be present before the sons took out her corpse. All hair was shaved off the body
before the corpse was anointed with oil derived from a ram’s fat. Standing at its back, a
first-born son held the torso by the head while last-born sons held the lower part as they
carried the corpse to the grave. It would be placed over a goatskin in a sleeping position,
with the head pointing toward the gate of the homestead to indicate continued
connectedness to it. If the deceased was either wealthy or a respected elder, his body was
wrapped in a fresh ox-hide, instead of a sheepskin, and the ox’s meat given to the
supervising elders as payment for their services. The body was stripped of any
ornaments, which were put in the grave. A ram’s skin was used to cover the body before
the grave was filled up with soil and a tree planted on top. A medicine man then cleansed
the deceased’s sons before they could return home for their shaving. After the shaving,
another sheep was slaughtered to cleanse the homestead. Beer was brewed for the
deceased’s peers who, before drinking, poured libation to the departed spirit. These
rituals having been completed, the homestead had to be relocated; this practice required
the slaughter of another sheep to mark the relocation. On the morning of the actual shift,
the sheep’s skin was left in the sun to dry and only a poor man was allowed to take it
away later.
The most significant death ritual was the hukũra (unburying) ceremony, which was
held approximately four weeks from the day of death. Lasting eight days and nights, it
involved the slaughter of a sheep and the performance of ceremonial sexual intercourse
twice during four of those nights to cleanse the surviving spouse(s) and children from the
contagion of death. If a husband had died, widows identified male partners with whom to
perform the sex rites. Only after the successful completion of the hukũra, under strict
supervision by elders from the council, could participants continue with their normal sex
lives. From the day of death to the completion of the hukũra it was taboo to let the fire go
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out completely within a man’s homestead, for that would not bode well for the arrival of
his spirit in the world of the ngoma (the sleeping spirits).
Modern Practices
Early Christian missionaries’ condemnation of many aspects of Gikuyu rituals and
general traditional practices as pagan led to their gradual abandonment. Other than
Christianity’s being presented as the route to “progress,” the steady colonial-era assault
of Kenyan customs generally meant that few Gikuyu could resist joining the “modernity”
bandwagon. Arguably, the Gikuyu, more than many other Kenyan peoples, have shown
greater dynamism in abandoning, or refashioning, most of their traditional ways. This
may be partly because of their relatively early contact with missionaries and traders, their
proximity to Nairobi, and their own desire to embrace a different lifestyle. Among
contemporary Gikuyu, there has been profound transformation, and sometimes outright
discontinuity, of most of the practices discussed above. For example, with regard to
births, it is logistically impossible to dispose of the afterbirth according to customary
ritual, since most births now take place in hospitals. At another level, for the Gikuyu it is
still vital that a family lineage, and therefore the future, be secured through many
(legitimate) children, traditionally seen as a man’s “wealth” alongside a multitude of
wives and a large herd of cattle. Nevertheless, economic constraints and the general
effects of “modernity” mean that polygamy (the customary vehicle for achieving such
goals) is now practiced only minimally. This, however, only changes the general Gikuyu
perception of “wealth” and does not diminish the joy with which they greet the arrival of
new children. It is common among “modernized” Gikuyu, in Nairobi and Kiambu
particularly, to throw lavish birthday parties for friends and relatives to “hold/greet the
baby” (kũnyita/kũgeithia mwana), as the practice is called. Such parents, depending on
their economic fortune, may set a specific day for this, and organize for the slaughter and
roasting of a goat. However, since this is costly, visitors are expected to bring cash as
well as material gifts for the baby, often turning the party into an opportunity for fundraising and display.
In the Central province, there are pockets of two atavistic minority groups that have
become visible particularly over the last ten or so years with a “return to the roots” call,
viz. Mungiki (“a multitude”) and Hama ya Ngai Mutuura Muoyo (Tent of the Living
God). Adherents are also found in other parts of the country following patterns of Gikuyu
settlement. However, the two quasi-religious groups are most conspicuous in Nairobi
because of their magnetic attraction of poor urban Gikuyu and other youth and the
political limelight they enjoy when they often dabble in politics. They hold severe
positions on prohibitions related to women, advocate clitoridectomy and the snuffing of
tobacco, sport dreadlocks, and sometimes don sheepskin wrappers and headgear. Beyond
this, their “roots” agenda does not include the practice of traditional birth and death
rituals and is silent on almost all other areas of Gikuyu cultural practices and, as such, the
two groups would merit full research.
With regard to deaths, a contemporary nonuniversal Gikuyu practice is to raze only
the nonpermanent houses of deceased persons. During the wake that begins the day a
death occurs, Christian hymns are sung as burial arrangements—often involving the
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raising of funds for funeral expenses and making property settlements—are made.
Whereas a tree would have been planted on an elder’s grave, the practice is to plant
flowers on all graves and to erect headstones and crosses. It is no longer possible to
abandon corpses either in bushes or huts/house, since the law calls for the “hygienic”
disposal of all deceased persons, age, sex, or social status notwithstanding. The hukũra
ceremony, or any other involving ceremonial sex, is no longer practiced. Further, due to
shrinkage in land ownership, homesteads cannot be moved at will. Sheep are often
unavailable for use in the numerous cleansing ceremonies due to harsh economic
realities. In fact, these traditional customs remain largely unknown to most contemporary
Gikuyu people.
References
Finnegan, R. 1970. Oral Literature in Africa. London: Oxford University Press.
Gathigira, S.K. 1933. Mĩikarire ya Agĩkũyũ (Translations of the Gikuyu). Karatina: Scholar’s
Publications.
Kabetu, M.N. 1966. Kĩrĩra Kĩa Ugĩkũyũ (About Gikuyu Customs). Nairobi: Kenya Literature
Bureau.
Kenyatta, Jomo. 1938. Facing Mount Kenya. London: Seeker and Warbug.
——. 1966. My People of Kikuyu. Nairobi: Oxford University Press.
Leakey, L.S.B. 1977. The Southern Kikuyu before 1903. Vols. 1–3. London, New York and San
Francisco: Academic Press.
Mugo, E.N. 1982. Kikuyu People: a Brief Outline of their Customs and Traditions. Nairobi: K.LB.
Muriuki, G. 1974. A History of the Kikuyu People 1500–1900. Nairobi, Oxford & New York:
Oxford University Press.
——. 1990. The Kikuyu in the Pre-Colonial Period. In Kenya Before 1900, ed. B.A.Ogot, Nairobi:
E.A.E.P.
Mwangi, R. 1974. Kikuyu Folktales Their Nature and Value. Nairobi: Kenya Literature Bureau.
Sankan, S.S. 1971. The Maasai. Nairobi. E.A.L.B.
MBUGUA WA-MUNGAI
See also Cosmology; Songs for Ceremonies
BLACKSMITHS: DAR ZAGHAWA OF
THE SUDAN
The Zaghawa occupy the northern part of the Darfur province in western Sudan, along
the Sudanese-Chadian borders. The Zaghawa’s homeland is called Dar Zaghawa (“the
Land of Zaghawa,” Tubiana and Tubiana 1977, 1). In Dar Zaghawa, iron working,
hunting, drumming, and pottery making are entrusted to a specific endogamous social
group called the Hadaheed. Today, the Hadaheed identify themselves as Zaghawa, and
there is much interaction between the two groups.
Although in some places of eastern, northern, and western parts of the Sudan, iron
working is regarded as an ordinary job, among the Dinka and the Bari of southern Sudan,
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iron working is entrusted to a separate servile group (Whitehead 1953, 271). In Darfur
province to the west, iron working is considered an inferior occupation, especially when
the female members are involved in pottery making. In all parts of Africa blacksmiths are
either regarded in extreme terms, either with respect or with contempt (McNutt 1991, 81).
Within the Zaghawa society, the Hadaheed occupy an inferior social position. The
Hadaheed are traditionally identified as practitioners of iron working, they also practice
drumming, hunting, and pottery making. The very name Hadaheed (i.e., iron workers)
indicates the prevalence of iron working over other trades.
Among every section of the Zaghawa, there is a blacksmith chief, or “Sheikh.” The
Sheikh has to supply the ruler annually with iron tools, leather robes, water skins, and
game meat, without recompense. The Hadaheed ascribed the causes of their social
position to their present small number, and for their uncleanness, in the past (Dinar 1986,
42). The Zaghawa consider the Hadaheed to be dirty and illiterate drunkards and pagans.
The Hadaheed’s defense strategy against such accusation is based upon Islamic
principles. They claim that knowledge of iron working is a gift from God, and not a
hereditary practice. In both Chad and Dar Zaghawa, the dominant group justified the
servile status of blacksmith in relation to Islamic traditions (Palmer 1967, 74). Thus,
blacksmiths were regarded as descendants of the Jews of Arabia, and were later cursed by
Prophet Mohammed (Nachtigal 1971, 402). Thus, blacksmiths are accused of being
“different” and hence vulnerable to hostile treatment. Such an attitude became fixed in
tradition and was passed from one generation to another.
For the Hadaheed, iron working is to a great extent a ritualized trade. Iron smelting
was only carried out on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, when a ram or a goat is
sacrificed (Dinar 1986, 48). During the smelting process, the blacksmiths dress in wornout clothes, and sing for the whole period. This situation is comparable to other African
traditions where blacksmiths were excluded at shelters, anoint themselves, and have
certain offerings and ceremonies (Haaland 1985, 56). Such rituals extend further to the
blacksmith tools: for example, hammers, anvils, tuyueres, and even the iron furnaces
were personalized and portrayed as sexual organs (Marret 1985, 77). Such relationship
between human procreation and parturition indicates that smelting was regarded as a
symbol for generating cultural continuity (Lemelle 1992, 169).
Hunting, like iron working, is ritualized (Herbert 1993, 165). Among the Hadaheed,
hunting is not carried out on Wednesday or at the end of lunar months. In these trips,
bathing and sexual intercourse are prohibited, so as to guarantee a successful hunt.
Within the Zaghawa’s society the Hadaheed are also despised for being drummers,
pottery makers, tanners, and butchers. The contempt for these trades is mainly due to
their uncleanness, and thus exends to the person/s who perform them. Thus, the
Hadaheed are despised not simply for practicing these trades, but instead for the beliefs
held by the rest of Zaghawa society that are associated with them, which consequently
affect the social status of the Hadaheed.
One of the most obvious causes of prejudice is the fact that it creates advantages and
material benefits for the dominant group (Cruz 1970, 16). In the past, within the barter
system, the Hadaheed had to trade iron tools, game meat, and pottery vessels, all timeconsuming and laborious tasks, in return for money, cloths, and grains from the Zaghawa.
Due to their political and economic hegemony, the Zaghawa have manipulated the
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prejudice against the Hadaheed as a means of economic exploitation and political
domination.
Folklore plays a great role in denoting the social status of the blacksmith, which is a
context within which the blacksmiths became a part of the group’s history, culture, and
traditions. The interdependence between the rest of the Zaghawa and the Hadaheed
guarantees a continuous supply of artisans and specialists, and hence provides a division
of labor based upon traditional beliefs. Although more contemporary forms of iron
making and food procurement are now prevalent, the social status of the Hadaheed in Dar
Zaghawa remains unchanged.
References
Dinar, Ali B. 1986. Folkloric Analysis of the Social Status of the Blacksmith and Iron Working
among the Zaghawa Hadahid of Northern Darfur-Sudan. M.A. thesis, University of KhartoumSudan.
Haaland, R. 1985. Iron Production, Its Socio-Cultural Contexts and Ecological Implications. In
African Iron Working—Ancient and Traditional, eds. R.Haaland and P.Shinnie. Norway.
Herbert, Eugenia W. 1993. Iron, Gender, and Power—Rituals of Transformation in African
Societies. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Lemelle, Sidney J. 1992. Ritual, Resistance, and Social Reproduction: A Cultural Economy of Iron
Smelting in Colonial Tanzania 1890–1975. Journal of Historical Sociology, 5 no. 2: 161–182.
Marret, P. 1985. The Smiths Myth and the Origin of Leadership in Central Africa. In African Iron
Working—Ancient and Traditional, eds. R.Haaland and P.Shinnie. Norway.
McNutt, Paula M. 1991. The African Ironsmith as Marginal Mediator: A Symbolic Analysis,
Journal of Ritual Studies, 5 no. 2: 75–98.
Nachtigal, Gustav. 1971. Sahara and Sudan—Wadaai and Darfur, trans. A.G.B.Fisher and
H.J.Fisher. New York: Barnes and Noble.
Palmer, H.R. 1928. Sudanese Memoir—Being Mainly Translations of a Number of Arabic
Manuscripts Relating to the Central and Western Sudan. London: Cass.
Tubiana, Marie-Jose, and J.Tubiana. 1977. The Zaghawa from An Ecological Perspective.
Rotterdam: Balkema.
Vaughn, J.H. 1970. Caste System in the Western Sudan. In Social Stratification in Africa, eds.
A.Tuden and L.Plotinov. New York: Free Press.
Whitehead, T.A. 1953. Suppressed Classes Among the Ban-Speaking Tribes. Sudan Notes and
Records 34:271.
ALI B.ALI-DINAR
See also Metallurgy and Folklore; Northeastern Africa (“the Horn”): Overview
BLACKSMITHS: MANDE OF
WESTERN AFRICA
Blacksmiths affect a large part of the life experiences and folklore of Mande peoples,
who inhabit the great plains and wide river basins from the western edge of Burkino Faso
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to Gambia and the Atlantic Ocean. These peoples include the Bamana (Bambara),
Maninka (Malinke), Wasuluka, Dyula, Somono, Bozo, Marka, and several other ethnic
groups, such as the Soninke to the north, the Khassonke to the west, and the Kuranko and
Susu (or Soso) to the south. This entry focuses for the most part on the Bamana,
Maninka, Wasuluka, who along with the Dyula are considered by many scholars to
constitute the historical core of Mande culture.
Even in the twenty-first century, the blacksmith provides vital products and services to
the Mande. Male members of Mande blacksmith families work in wood and iron, while
female members are the potters. As such, the women possess stature and prominence,
both as object makers and sorcerers, which parallels that of their male counterparts.
Smiths’ products surround the Mande at home and abroad. They include stools, doors to
private quarters, the delightful sculptures that lock those doors, the kitchen’s stirring
sticks and butcher knives, and the courtyard’s mortars and pestles. The women in
blacksmith families make all the clayware that the Mande use. In the fields, farmers use
many types of hoes and knives, each designed for a specific type of work. In the bush,
hunters still carry the knives, light axes, and guns that smiths have made for decades, if
not centuries, and even their ammunition is provided by blacksmiths (McNaughton
1979a, 1988). Finally, other specialists such as the boat builders of Bozo and Sorko
society, use tools that smiths make for them.
In addition, the blacksmiths are also sculptors. Thus, when the Mande attend mask
festivals, tend to their altars, participate in initiation association ceremonies, or honor
deceased twins with sculpted portraits, they are reminded of the smiths, who provide the
sculptures and ritual works used in these ceremonies.
The Blacksmith at Work
This plethora of visible objects is supported by the keenly felt presence of the
blacksmiths themselves, who work day in and day out at their forges. Even the smallest
towns have three or four practicing blacksmiths. When they are not visible, the
blacksmiths are generally easily heard, as their hammers ring out in high pitched patterns
throughout the village.
Often people stop to watch the blacksmith at work, indulging in light conversation just
to pass the time or while waiting for an item. Watching reveals the marvel of expertise,
but not necessarily the inherent hard work and technical organization. An adze moves
effortlessly around a piece of wood, as chips fly and in short order a recognizable form
emerges. With expert smiths it is uncanny how quickly and precisely this happens. By
design, but as if by miracle, an implement or mask grows by reduction into the world of
tangible objects (McNaughton 1979b).
Mande smiths carve by conceiving the finished product before beginning, then
roughing it out with a large adze, and finally working it into degrees of refinement with
lighter adzes and a finishing knife. Much skill is required to make exact shapes, because
wood does not always give way to an adze predictably. Experts, however, can carve the
most subtle shapes with ease. Iron forging demands control; blacksmiths must carefully
control heat and hammer blows to direct a semiviscous metal into shapes. Repeated
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submerging in hot charcoal causes carbon to be absorbed into the metal’s surface,
tendering it a hard carbon steel, while the core remains more supple, as iron.
Thus, through the sights, sounds, and products that frame people’s lives, blacksmiths
occupy a phenomenological foreground, which helps to explain the prominent place of
the blacksmith in traditional Mande folklore.
Iron Working and the Supernatural
Working with iron is believed to demand large quantities of supernatural energy (nyama);
the earliest Mande oral lore describes blacksmiths as possessing (and using)
extraordinary levels of it. They also traditionally possessed numerous special skills that
enabled them to harness that power and play additional roles in society: from sorcerer and
herbal doctor to divination expert and initiation association leader (McNaughton 1987).
Generation after generation of smiths have played these roles effectively enough to
garner an awesome reputation for their profession—although in every generation there
have certainly been plenty of mediocre blacksmiths, whose rudimentary skills are
recognized as such by other Mande. Plus, so many smiths work in these “extra-smithing”
enterprises that the profession as a whole is seen as conflict mediators and advisor to
leaders, along with others. In fact, the smiths lead Komo (for men) and Nya Gwan (for
women), two of the most supernaturally potent spiritual associations in the Mande. And
many Mande say that smiths have at one time or another been in charge of many or all
the spiritual associations (of which there are about ten). Thus, the typical Mande
everyday life experience of smiths includes constant contact with their products, constant
use of their extra-smithing services, and constant awareness of their seemingly
supernatural powers and skills.
The prominence and importance of Mande blacksmiths extends deep into history.
Research by archaeologists Susan and Roderick McIntosh has shown that locally made
iron played an important commercial role in early complex society before and after the
time of Christ (1983). The historian George Brooks has suggested that, especially during
the period between 700 and 1100 CE, the smiths had very likely maneuvered themselves
into positions of great importance through their iron working, their vast ken of secret and
supernaturally charged expertise and the activities of their influential spiritual
associations.
People’s living experiences and imaginations always merge and feed each other, and
in the Mande psyche they converge forcefully around blacksmiths. Lore takes many
forms, much of which is simply part of daily life realities. Smiths, for example, are said
to be so charged with the energy called nyama that it spills out into their tools and forge,
and can either be dangerous for ordinary people if they are not cautious, or beneficial if
smiths manipulate it in particular ways. Smiths can use it to cure certain illness, and
people come to them for the cure. In fact, blacksmiths are believed to possess so much of
this energy, and can become so adept at using it to do extraordinary things, that an aura of
power surrounds the profession. Thus people say smiths can develop the ability to turn
into animals, or become invisible. They can also create special relationships with
wilderness spirits, by which they gain additional extraordinary abilities. They can control
the location of rain. And some can simply look at you and understand your problems and
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your needs. Other members of society, such as sorcerers and cult priests, can learn such
things too, but smiths have a ready disposition to learn them, and many are believed to
become formidably expert at it (McNaughton 1988).
Blacksmiths in Folklore
Smiths are very prominently featured in traditions called ladaw, which are vignettes,
anecdotes, and little bits of information that give people pleasure, but are also taken
seriously as explanations for things in the world. Smiths also appear frequently in the
narrative “stories that explain things” (manaw) and praise songs that glorify heroes
(fasaw), which together compose the lengthy and well-known oral epics performed by
professional bards. Finally, smiths are frequently featured in the songs (donkili)
performed at public festivals and masquerade performances, and are characters in Mande
rural theater.
In all of these contexts, blacksmiths take on a variety of guises. They can appear as the
highly skilled and hard-working provid-ers of community material needs and as the
powerful professional manipulators of the energy (nyama) that runs the world. They can
appear as heroes who undertake grand military or supernatural activities to make the
world better, and as warmongering empire-builders who do not let scruples or people
stand in their way.
Here is a sampling of some of the blacksmith characters that appear in Mande lore.
Domajiri is said to have been the world’s first human, and while he was born of
extremely powerful, dangerous, and chaotic deities, he became one of humankind’s great
benefactors. He invented the young men’s initiation association called Ntomo, which
offers years of important social and spiritual education, and some traditions say he
invented the whole complex system of Mande spiritual associations (the jow). He also
invented the mask that Ntomo members use in their ceremonies, and from one of the
wood shavings he invented the lion (Imperato 1983; Zahan 1960).
Three generations later came N’Fajigi, whose control of the energy called nyama was
so pronounced that he introduced the men’s Komo and the women’s Nya Gwan
associations, both of which are considered by many Mande to possess the ultimate in
supernatural power (McNaughton 1979a). He also introduced one of the most powerful
of spiritual devices, the Komo headdress, and many say he introduced the Mande to the
concept of amulets and other material instruments of tremendous supernatural power.
The Sunjata Epic features two famous Mande smiths, Sumanguru Kante and Fakoli.
Sumanguru was a famous sorcerer-leader who tried to build a huge empire through
fearsome military and supernatural activity. He killed the leaders of nine local states and
wore pants, a shirt, and a hat all made from human skin. He is said to have owned great
numbers of charged occult devices, and kept an enormous magical serpent in a secret
palace chamber. In oral tradition he is likened to a huge bird of prey that can pierce rock
with his talons while flying high in the sky (Bird and Kendall 1980; Diabate 1970;
Johnson 1986; Niane 1965).
Sumanguru’s great protagonist was Sunjata Keita, who had a blacksmith ally named
Fakoli Dunbia, nephew of Sumanguru Kante. Fakoli’s wife, also a great sorcerer, had
been stolen by Sumanguru, and to avenge the theft, Fakoli switched allegiances. He was a
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supreme military strategist, statesman, and master of public speaking, and he possessed a
strangely large head, full of the capacity for supernatural actions (Bird and Kendall 1980;
Diabate 1970; Niana 1965). Those actions help defeat Sumanguru.
The great drama in the Sunjata Epic involves horrendous supernatural duels that are
situated amid tremendous military battles. In the end Sunjata uses his sorcery to
overpower Sumanguru, who then vanishes into a mountain at Kulukoro, a Niger River
town near Mali’s capital, Bamako. The spot has a modest shrine and a priest, and some
people visit it from all over the western Sudan, in hopes of acquiring some of
Sumanguru’s ancient power (Niane 1965).
Occasionally in Mande lore, there is an ambiguous relationship between the
blacksmiths and the supernatural objects that they use. Nerikoro provides a good
example. In the oral traditions it is sometimes hard to tell if Nerikoro is a powerful
sorcerer-smith or an equally powerful Komo association headdress. The best
interpretation is probably both. Some stories describe it as the ancient Komo mask of
N’Fajigi, who introduced the occult to the Mande. Others assign it to the time of Samory
in the late 1800s, calling it the most famous Komo mask of the recent past. And
sometimes it seems to be neither mask nor person, but rather a wilderness spirit
associated with the mask and its owner. But no matter what it seems to be it always
possesses uncanny abilities, as in an interesting oral tradition where a man named Bankisi
Sediba tries to kill Nerikoro to aggrandize his own power. During the course of that story,
Nerikoro neutralizes deadly mystical poisons buried secretly in the earth, renders
harmless a group of armed men set to ambush him, and predicts the coming of the
Europeans as it destroys Bankisi.
References
Bird, Charles S., and Martha Kendall. 1980. The Mande Hero. In Explorations in African Systems
of Thought, eds. Ivan Karp and Charles S.Bird. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Diabate, Massa M. 1970. Janjon et autres chants populaires du Mali. Paris: Presence Africaine.
Imperato, Pascal James. 1983. Buffoons, Queens, and Wooden Horsemen: The Dyo and Gouan
Societies of the Bambara of Mali. New York: Kilima House.
Johnson, John W. 1986. The Epic of Son-Jafa: A West African Tradition. Bloomington: Indiana
University Press.
McIntosh, Roderick J., and Susan Keech McIntosh. 1983. Forgotten Tells of Mali, Expedition 25,
no. 3:35–46.
McNaughton, Patrick R. 1979a. Secret Sculptures of Komo: Art and Power in Bamana (Bamabara)
Initiation Associations. Philadelphia: Institute for the Study of Human Issues.
——. 1979b. Bamana Blacksmiths. African Arts 12, no. 2:65–71, 92.
——. 1987. Nyamakalaw: The Mande Bards and Blacksmiths. Word and Image 3, no. 3:271–88.
——. 1988. The Mande Blacksmiths: Knowledge, Power, and Art in West Africa. Bloomington:
Indiana University Press.
Niane, Djibril Tamsir. 1965. Sundiata: An Epic of Old Mali. Trans. G.D. Pickett. London:
Longmans.
Zahan, Dominique. 1960. Societes d’initiation Bambara: Le N’Domo, Le Kore. Paris: Mouton.
PATRICK MCNAUGHTON
See also Epics: West African; Metallurgy
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BOARD GAMES
See Bao; Draughts; Mancala; Wari
BODY ARTS: BODY DECORATION IN
AFRICA
Throughout human history, members of all societies have developed unique forms for
enhancing the human body through adornment. Within Africa, such aesthetic practices
vary enormously from culture to culture, as do the precious materials harnessed to this
end. The earliest observations of African forms of adornment by Europeans emphasized
their exotic and timeless nature. The same fascination with the decorated body in Africa,
especially that of women, continues to be reflected in the visual collages produced by
contemporary photographers Angela Fisher and Carol Beckwith (Fisher 1984; Beckwith
and Fisher 1990, 2000). The panoramic vistas they afford the viewer at once expand the
geographic parameters of what is perceived to be African, while providing a celebratory
look at the continent’s immense diversity. Nevertheless, they perpetuate an Africa which
is only rural, exotic, and timeless.
Regional traditions of adornment provide visual systems that may be creatively drawn
upon by individuals to express a personalized aesthetic. While such traditions reflect
important local sensibilities, they also document historical exchanges across cultures. In
Africa, physical refinement of the body with jewelry may be complemented by lavish
clothing and hairstyles. Actually, the decoration of the human body involves even more
than these obvious alterations. Some people might use nakedness, the complete absence
of adornment of the body, as a stage in an initiation ceremony. Others may completely
cover the body as in masquerades. There can be temporary decoration such as hair
decoration or cutting, or there can be permanent decorations as with scarification. Body
decoration is used throughout Africa by various cultures to mark stages of growth and
rites of passage. From birth, through initiation and marriage, to death, changes in the
appearance and decoration of the human body serve to communicate the status of the
individual. Although much body decoration is significant, it is also possible that the
decoration exists only for the enjoyment of esthetic expression.
Over the centuries and across the vast geographical expanse of the continent, different
African societies have variously measured wealth in gold, silver, brass, ivory, and
beadwork. Refined by highly talented specialists, these materials were translated into
forms of adornment in order to enhance their owner’s power and prestige. In Africa, as in
other world cultures, jewelry constitutes an important emblem of its wearer’s status and
identity.
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Goldwork and Gold as Currency
For over fifteen hundred years, West African gold has been part of the world economy.
Its trade across the Sahara by Berber nomads became part of the international financial
market, beginning in the third and fourth centuries. By the eighth century, exportation of
gold to North African and Egypt gave rise to the most important of the early West
African Iron Age states. The kingdom of ancient Ghana dominated the southern border
area of modern Mauretania and Mali until the thirteenth century. During the height of its
power in the fourteenth century, the ruler of the neighboring empire of Mali, Mansa
Musa, made a famous pilgrimage to Mecca. In doing so he brought Mali’s affluence and
sophistication to the notice of the rest of the Muslim world. Upon his arrival in Cairo he
so lavishly spent the one hundred camel-loads of gold that accompanied him that the
value of gold plummeted and did not recover for a number of years.
Beginning in the fifteenth century, European merchants began to visit various centers
along the West African coast and observed local forms of adornment firsthand. A
Portuguese expedition arriving in 1482 was met by an Akan chief whose arms, legs, and
neck were “covered with chains and trinkets of gold in many shapes, and countless bells
and large beads of gold were hanging from the hair of his beard and his head.” For the
next four hundred years the trade in gold was concentrated along what was known as the
Gold Coast until Ghana’s independence in 1957.
Although an ancient artistic tradition, most African goldwork that survives today dates
only as far back as the nineteenth century. Because it functioned as wealth, it was
continually traded and recycled. The king mandated that all ornaments be melted down
and redesigned annually on the occasion of the Yam Festival and imposed a tax on their
recasting. It is important to consider, however, that leaders along the Gold Coast
appreciated gold not only as a raw material denoting wealth, but for the symbolic
significance it took on when refined. According to Asante history, the formation of its
confederation in 1701 was ushered in with an official decree that all objects and symbols
of the past be destroyed.
Gold dust circulated as a form of general currency throughout the region until the end
of the nineteenth century. Unlike Ghana, southeastern Cote d’Ivoire had no comparable
system of chiefs or related tradition of regalia. There was no particular restriction on the
ownership of goldwork, which principally took the form of personal adornments that
could be commissioned by wealthy individuals. Worn by men and women as signs of
beauty and prestige, they were attached to the hair or suspended from a necklace on
special festive occasions. Today such works are regarded as part of a family’s legacy, and
as heirlooms, are passed from one generation to the next. In the Lagoons region, adding
to this family treasury allowed an individual to enhance his social status. This
accomplishment was recognized through a ceremonial exhibition that publicly displayed
his wealth.
Baule beads and pendants, which can be discs, rectangles, tubes, or bicones inspired
by Akan designs, are cast of impure gold mixed with a high percentage of silver or
copper. In addition to these abstract forms, a classic design is that of a human face or
head. Although most examples depict a male face with beard, moustache, elaborate
hairstyle, and facial scarification, an enormous range of interpretations of this
standardized motif exist. The mask’s meaning also varies and while in some areas it is
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regarded as a “portrait” of a friend or lover, in others it depicts ancestors or former
leaders. Beyond their aesthetic beauty, such works appear to have had the power to
alleviate conflict by contributing to the resolution of disputes and shielding the wearer
from physical attack.
Silverwork
In the kingdom of Dahomey (now present-day Benin), royal arts were cast from imported
metals such as the foreign currency obtained through trade with Brazilian, Spanish, and
American trading partners. Here human beings were the resource exchanged for silver
dollars converted into courtly adornment by West Africa’s premier silversmiths, a family
known as Hontondji. Their patrons, the kings of Dahomey, controlled a precolonial
inland state, founded in the early seventeenth century. Until the mid-nineteenth century,
the kings of Dahomey prospered through their involvement as intermediaries in the
Atlantic slave trade.
The prestige of enhancing one’s person with what is literally wealth is reflected in the
fact that armlets made of silver dollars were skillfully beaten out so that they retained the
impressions of the iron lion of England and heads of George III and his queen. Not only
was the material used to fashion Dahomean jewelry a foreign import, but so were a range
of the motifs emphasized including automobiles, airplanes, crucifixes, and chameleons,
among others. Others emphasize indigenous images associated with power, such as the
calabash and animal horn containers used for mystically powerful materials.
Brass
Benin is a living kingdom in the contemporary nation of Nigeria that traces its origins
back six hundred years. Since its founding in 1300, individual leaders have used lavish
adornment as a means of defining their place within a dynasty of divine kingship. Benin
emerged as a regional power through control of local trade networks. In 1485, these were
expanded to include a series of European trading partners. In the late fifteenth century,
the principal form of currency introduced by the Portuguese was a unit of brass, known as
the manilla. This wealth was melted down to fashion the works of art for which Benin is
celebrated.
Coral
At the court of Benin, worldly wealth accrued through trade was transformed into
ornaments commissioned by the king for himself and members of the court. Meticulous
attention was given to details of costume and ornament. These in turn clarified the role
and status of the figures depicted. In one such example, the identity of the central figure
of a warrior chief is indicated by the leopard-tooth necklace he wears and his highranking status by a coral-bead collar, a lavishly woven wrap, and brass ornament at his
left hip.
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From the fifteenth century on, coral beads from the western Mediterranean constituted
one of the principal commodities imported to Benin through trade. So integral were they
to the aesthetic of the court, however, that oral traditions relate them to the origins of the
dynasty. The choice of coral as an emblem of leadership reflects the fact that the wellbeing of the kingdom, both spiritual and economic, is attributed to the beneficence of the
sea god, Olokun. Consequently, the king alone owns all coral and stone beads and may
envelope his person with a complete beadwork costume that includes a crown, collar,
robe, ornaments, and even shoes. Although he may distribute beadwork to chiefs,
titleholders, and members of palace associations, this merely constitutes a loan to the
wearer.
Ivory
Ivory was Benin’s most precious resource and the king controlled its trade to the outside
world. Because of its physical power and scale the elephant was considered an important
emblem of leadership and use of its ivory also drew upon these associations. Although
oval pectoral masks cast in brass were often distributed by the king to vassal rulers, ivory
ornaments were generally commissioned for the king himself.
In present-day Zaire, ivory was the material of choice used to create personal
adornment in various central African societies. Among the central Pende, mask forms
were replicated in miniature to be worn suspended around the neck. Although wooden
versions were carved by healing specialists as remedies prescribed by diviners, ivory
pendants were made by professional sculptors to be worn decoratively. Because bodily
contact altered the material’s aesthetically preferred whiteness, owners scrubbed ivory
daily with water and abrasive sand, which also had the effect of blurring the carved
features over time.
Luba ivory pendants likewise reflect their close association with the body and are
among the most intimate and personal of all works produced by Luba sculptors. Carved
from bone, horn, and ivory, they are suspended diagonally across the chest or attached to
the arm from cords together with other objects including amulets, beads, and horns. The
female figures represented are portraits or at least likenesses named in memory of
important individuals. Although each is unique in its detail, all share a minimalist
conception of the human form emphasizing the head and torso adorned with references to
nineteenth-century Luba female coiffures and scarifications. In homage to the memory of
certain revered ancestors, such works were anointed with oil, a practice that together with
regular handling and bodily contact has given them a smooth lustrous surface and a rich
caramel color.
Beadwork
In eastern and southern Africa, complex styles of adornment have historically made use
of the monochrome seed bead as a unit of design. Tens of thousands of these may be
strung or sewn to compose elaborate multicolored ornaments that drape the body, a
practice that blurrs the boundaries between jewelry and dress. Among the earliest known
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70
examples of African jewelry are beads made from ostrich eggshell. Beads manufactured
in Egypt and Iran were imported during Roman times. By the ninth century, Arab traders
had established settlements along the East African coast where glass beads, fabrics, and
porcelain from as far away as China were exchanged for African ivory, slaves, and gold.
In 1498, this Indian Ocean trade was taken over by the Portuguese who found that local
consumers had developed preferences for beads manufactured in India. Between the
sixteenth and eighteenth centuries, massive quantities of glass beads were imported from
Austria, the Netherlands, and Czechoslovakia.
Within the Republic of South Africa, a series of culturally distinct beadwork traditions
have developed. In the land whose mineral wealth of diamonds and gold would later be
exploited by European colonizers, imported glass beads constituted a precious resource
and form of wealth. Archaeologists suggest that trade in beads and other imported goods
were an important factor leading to the development of large chiefdoms and ethnic
identities during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Regional leaders controlled
access to beads and had them woven into articles of finery as signifiers of power and
influence. Like Akan gold which was continually recast, it is difficult to find extant
examples of beadwork that predate the nineteenth century because bead works were often
restrung. Among the features that distinguishes these forms of artistry is that their makers
are female.
Beadworks from the Transvaal region, and a related tradition of mural painting, have
provided several generations of Ndebele women with an important means of visual
expression. Fashioned into a hierarchical series of adornments, Ndebele beadwork is
primarily designed to identify its wearer’s stage of life. As children, young girls wear a
small beaded band with tassels, or ligabi. At puberty, this is substituted for a stiff,
rectangular-shaped apron, the isiphephethu. On the occasion of her wedding ceremonies,
an Ndebele bride usually wears, among other items, a beaded veil and a long beaded
train. Her subsequent status as a married woman is denoted by different kinds of beaded
aprons (liphoto and ijogolo), a beaded blanket irari, and metal neck, arm, and leg rings,
idzila. The idea that beadwork serves to situate individuals within the Ndebele social
framework and demarcate their progression through life is also extended to male
members at the conclusion of their initiation into adulthood. That event marks a boy’s
passage from a feminine sphere of influence to a male one and constitutes one of the rare
instances in which Ndebele men wear beadwork.
The oldest known articles of Ndebele beadwork are composed of mainly small, white
beads with minimal linear color designs. Although the types of beaded works designed
during the twentieth century have generally remained consistent, significant stylistic
changes are reflected in the colors, patterns, and materials used over time. The
availability of a wider range of colored beads during the 1940s and 1950s led to more
complex designs and color schemes. Since the late twentieth century, Ndebele beaded
works have incorporated figurative images drawn from women’s experience of everyday
life and their environment. These motifs include lettering, telephone poles, light fittings,
airplanes, and houses.
By the end of the eighteenth century, imported beads had reached northern Natal
where the foundations of the Zulu empire were being laid under the leadership of King
Dingiswayo. Until that time the region had been organized into small chiefdoms whose
members were farmers. An emerging Zulu kingdom absorbed many of these Nguni
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chiefdoms and displaced others. The power of the Zulu kings became entrenched through
a combination of military superiority and their control of foreign goods. The increasingly
active role played by Portuguese traders settled at Delgoa Bay probably intensified both
regional conflict and the centralizing mandate of the Zulu kings to command authority
over this artery of trade. Dingiswayo decreed commerce in foreign goods to be his
personal privilege and ordered that any of his subjects engaging in their barter be put to
death. By 1819 his successor and nephew, Shaka, had established himself as the allpowerful ruler of a single kingdom and continued to expand the Zulu Kingdom’s
influence over the next decade. Among his strategies for centralizing regional power, all
new bead varieties were brought to his capital and reserved for his own use and
distribution.
When the first British traders settled at Port Natal in 1825, they found that glass beads
had been incorporated into a cohesive Zulu culture and played an important role in many
of the rituals, customs, and ceremonies of the Zulu nation. The varieties and colors of the
beads that people were permitted to wear reflected both their social position and personal
achievements. In men’s ceremonial dress beads were combined with feathers, animal
skins, and large copper and bronze arm rings. Strings of metal beads were often the
reward for feats of valor.
The decline and fragmentation of the Zulu monarchy during the reign of King
Cetshwayo (1872–1879) may be seen reflected in a diversification of Zulu beadwork
styles. Although Cetswhayo prevailed over the British at the famous battle of
Isandhlwana, his subsequent capture was followed by the disintegration of Zulu unity.
The ensuing lack of centralized control, greater access to beads through trade, and desire
by various groups to build independent identities for themselves led to a proliferation of
new forms of beadwork.
In contrast to the official statement made by the regalia of royalty, personal forms of
Zulu adornment designed according to a codified system of pattern and color have been
described as a language able to communicate on a number of different levels. As in
Ndebele society, Zulu beadwork commented on the wearer’s age group, marital status,
economic level, and region of origin. Beyond this, however, rectangular bead panels
made by young women for their lovers publicly acknowledged their courtship. Referred
to as “love letters,” their compositions furthermore convey specific messages across color
and linear configurations. In such instances, colored beads did not act as an alphabet but
rather as ideograms. A particular bead or combination of beads, triggered a series of
associations. In some instances these referred to universally recognizable phrases used
during courting, while in others, they were of a more intimate and idiosyncratic nature,
not overtly legible to outsiders.
Since the 1920s, a sense of Zulu ethnic, cultural, and national consciousness has been
revived under traditional leadership. Each spring young women come to the capital from
all over the kingdom to perform a national dance before their monarch and his assembled
guests. The king uses this occasion of the Umhlanga or Reed dance to speak directly to
the youth of the nation and as a platform from which he can make larger political
statements. As many as four thousand girls dressed in the finest dancing costumes are
matched and complemented by the regalia of older men and women, speakers from the
royal house, and the KwaZulu government.
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In the 1820s, an influx of newcomers converged upon residents of the eastern Cape’s
Xhosa-speaking chiefdoms. These included both northern Nguni-speaking refugees from
the Zulu campaigns of expansion and British settlers. Although the more recent African
arrivals became incorporated into Xhosa society, they continued to be identified as
members of immigrant chiefdoms, such as the Thembu and Mfengu. In the nineteenth
century, Thembu and Mfengu ceremonial dress adopted wide collar necklaces composed
of beads and buttons woven into a solid fabric. When compared to Zulu beadwork, Xhosa
designs appear relatively subdued and do not reflect overt symbolic meaning. The simple
configuration of the beaded collar, however, at once distinguishes the wearer from his
neighbors and associates him with a specific ancestral place of origin.
Because of its association with African culture and identity during the rise of African
nationalism in the later half of the twentieth century, traditional dress incorporating
beadwork came to be associated with anticolonialism. On the day Nelson Mandela was
sentenced, he stunned the entire court by appearing at his trial wearing full “traditional”
dress with blankets, thick skins, and beads around his neck and arms, as well as his knees
and ankles. This powerful visual statement served to symbolically underscore the
message of his speech from the dock in which he rejected the legitimacy of the entire trial
and justice system. Although the African National Congress (ANC) released a
photograph of Mandela wearing beadwork from the eastern Cape, images of him and
other ANC leaders could not be published locally following his conviction and the
banning of the organization. It was therefore not until 1990 that this thirty-year-old
photograph was seen in South Africa.
Although some ancient traditions are changing due to increased contact with different
aesthetics and clothing traditions, many traditional body art markers of individual status
continue to be used. In fact, now new traditions can be seen, especially in the cities.
Young men in West Africa now wear earrings, a practice due as much to contemporary
European and American custom as to local customs.
References
Biebuyck, Daniel. 1973. Lega Culture. Berkeley: University of California Press.
Blier, Suzanne. 1998. Royal Arts of Africa. London: Calmann and King.
Cole, Herbert M., and Doran H. Ross. 1977. The Arts of Ghana. Los Angeles: Museum of Cultural
History, University of California.
Hammond-Tooke, David, and Anitra Nettleton, eds. 1989. Ten Years of Collecting 1979–1989.
Johannesburg, University of the Witwatersrand.
Ezra, Kate. 1992. The Royal Art of Benin. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Fisher, Angela. 1984. Africa Adorned. New York: Abrams.
Fisher, Angela, and Carol Beckwith. 1990. African Ark: People and Ancient Cultures of Ethiopia
and the Horn of Africa. New York: Abrams.
Garrard, Timothy F. Gold of Africa. 1989. Geneva: Barbier-Mueller Museum.
Roberts, Mary Nooter, and Allen F. Roberts, eds. 1996. Memory: Luba Art and the Making of
History. New York: Museum for African Art.
Rubin, Arnold, ed. 1988. Marks of Civilization. Los Angeles: Museum of Cultural History,
University of California.
ALISA LAGAMMA
African Americans
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See also Beadwork; Body Arts: Hair Sculpture; Metallurgy; Textiles Arts and
Communication
BODY ARTS: AFRICAN AMERICAN
ARTS OF THE BODY
Arts of the body are among the most prolific and accessible traditions of African
American expressive culture. Like African American speech, oral literature, dance and
music, the arts of dress and personal adornment reflect continuities of artistic ideas,
values, skills, and knowledge, rooted on the African continent, which are constantly
innovated and adapted as expressions of uniquely African American cultural identities.
Diversity of Genre
African American body arts traditions incorporate many elements or genres. These genres
include knowledge, skills, and artistry in the construction, reshaping, and embellishment
of clothing, hairstyling and barbering, and cosmetic and other arts applied to the body by
artisan specialists skilled in these traditions. African American body arts also include the
arts of self-presentation, that is, the way that individuals put together elements of dress,
and modify and embellish their bodies as statements of cultural identity.
Continuity of Traditions
African American traditions of the body are expressive of a wide range and diversity of
beliefs, skills, performances, values, and artistic communications that reflect the manyfaceted African diasporic experience and that of the African continent itself. The
expressive culture of New African diaspora communities bears both similarities and
differences to the older communities of African descendants in North America. In both
instances, there are cultural continuities in traditions rooted in the continent of Africa and
traditions practiced in the Americas.
Hairstyling
The decoration and embellishment of the hair is one of the clearest and most widespread
examples of African continuities in the body arts of the African diaspora. The textures of
African hair lend themselves to a rich variety of options for styling. These options which
include cutting, dreading (felting), braiding, coiling, twisting with thread have gone in
and out of fashion and have a wide geographical distribution. Some of these hairdressing
arts, skills, and aesthetic values have survived the Middle Passage and have passed from
African folklore
74
one generation to the next. The expertise and artistry of cornrow hair braiding, so called
in the United States because of the resemblance of the completed braids to rows of maize,
has been as historically familiar in African American communities of the southern United
States as it is in the Guyanas and in the islands of the Caribbean. However, cornrow
braiding is only one of many traditions of dress and personal adornment that connect
African Americans to their African cultural roots.
Other dress and adornment traditions, such as the wearing of headwraps, were
restricted for many decades, confined to children and older women in public, due to the
association, in this case, of head wrapping with forced dress codes of captivity. For
hundreds of years, braiding in the United States African American communities were
worn only by very young girls and very old women. In the 1970s, the braiding tradition in
the United States was revitalized and even augmented as an art form within the corpus of
African American hairstyling by West African women, coming from Senegal, the
Gambia, and Mali, who brought a high level of artistry, skills, and specialized knowledge
of braiding to the United States. The context of practice changed (or was augmented)
from an activity practiced almost exclusively in the home, to a major source of immigrant
African wealth and as a highly elaborated part of African American body arts. Ways of
tying and wearing decorative head scarfs are widespread among people of the African
diaspora, are commonly identified as a communication of African identity. However the
style of wrap, techniques of tying, the configuration of the silhouette, the signaling power
of the wrap and the identity or message indicated may be quite different for the Ivorian
woman at a soirée dansante in Philadelphia and the African American college student at
Spelman University in Atlanta, although each one may see the wrap as connected to her
African identity. Within one pan-African tradition, specific features may signal affiliation
to ethnic group, to a religious group, to indicate status within a group or honor a patron
divinity.
Decorative Scarring
Decorative scarring had long been abandoned in the United States only to be reclaimed in
the 1970s as part of the assertion of pride in African heritage by African American
Greek-letter fraternities on academic campuses. As in West African societies, the purpose
of the marks burned into the skin of African-American “Greek-letter” pledges were
applied to indicate status or affiliation as part of the ordeals of initiation into lifelong
brotherhoods.
Dress
Graham White and Shane White have remarked that soon after captivity, Africans were
issued clothing which conformed to European codes of appropriate dress as they applied
to servile roles. Nevertheless, the Africans working as captive labor on American
plantations were still able to wrest out of the materials and technologies available to them
a distinct and African-rooted expressive culture of dress. After the events leading up to
the American revolution in the late 1770s stopped the flow of imported clothing from
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75
Europe, it fell to African American women to produce much of the textiles and the
clothing for the captives. Thus, the expertise and agency of African American
seamstresses ensured the continuity of African-influenced clothing traditions within
captive communities. They applied ideas of beauty and appropriate dress that were
passed down from African-born forebears in the juxtaposition of pattern and color. They
patched old clothes in manners analogous to the decoration of quilts and remade
secondhand clothes into new items of dress. Their knowledge of natural dyeing from
barks and from the indigo plants applied to producing different colored threads allowed
them to determine the color palette from which to choose (White and White, 1998).
In subsequent years, the modification of store-bought items of dress and the persistent
vitality of tailoring, dressmaking, and millinery traditions in African American
communities continued to create a distinctive expressive culture of African American
dress through much of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.
The adoption of African textiles, and other visual symbols of belonging to a larger
pan-African world community along with access to African clothing from the 1970s led
to an intensification and revitalization of African influences on social dress traditions
among African Americans in the United States and in the Caribbean. At the same time,
reinterpreted African aesthetics of dress returned to the African continent via the
influence of African American dress on continental African young people reveling in the
new independence from colonialism.
Aesthetics
African influences on the choices of African American textile artists in the south and in
the Caribbean, as documented by Thompson (1969), Twining (1977), Wahlman (1983),
Frye (1980), and others, have been observed as well in the arts of dress both in
construction of clothing and in social dress. Improvisation and originality in African
American arts of the body, like quilting and jazz, have have always been central aesthetic
values. The skills of “taking trick making luck,” as the Caribbean expression goes—
creating something spectacular with very limited resources—are values born out only
partially out of the limited access to resources which historically too often characterized
the situation of African American artists of bodily adornment and dress.
African American Dress and African Identity
Since the late twentieth century, increased contact between Africa, the United States, and
the Caribbean, including the presence of people from more recent African diasporas, have
brought aesthetic ideas that have revitalized African American dress as well as renewed
access to African items of dress, skilled traditional African tailors, and hairstylists.
African immigrants have also brought their regional and ethnic traditions of dress and
values. The wearing of kente cloth is deeply significant to African American wearers and
to Africans of the Ghanaian diaspora in the United States. Although kente is valued as a
cloth of status by both groups, the traditions of Ghanaians related to the wearing of kente
as a marker of high status, and of their ethnic and national identity is perceived by many
African folklore
76
Ghanaians as qualitatively different from the African American use of kente (and its
often imitated patterns) as a generalized marker of identification with Africa, and as
empowerment and entitlement (Kreamer, 1999).
African body arts include both material culture and arts of performance. They can be
understood as part of the visual vocabularies of community and individual self-naming.
From the occupational arts of African American beauty salons to the highly solemn
traditions of dressing the dead, these arts incorporate both everyday social and ritual
dress; however, little formal folklore research has been done on these traditions.
Historically, and up to the present day, African Americans have taken advantage of the
possibilities afforded by the genre and the means available to adorn the body. African
American body arts reflect the continuity of traditions, skills, knowledge, and aesthetic
values that have been adapted and readapted, shaped and reshaped on the American
continent into several expressive traditions which are all uniquely African American, but
which have influenced and inspired contemporary body arts all over the world.
From knowledge and practice of cornrow hair braiding throughout the diaspora, to the
symbolic communications conveyed in the aesthetics and symbolism of social and ritual
dress of religious practitioners of Santería in New York, Puerto Rico, and Cuba, African
diasporic arts of dress and body decoration reflect continuities with traditions rooted on
the African continent.
The acceptance of African body aesthetics has broadened the range of what is
considered beautiful by African Americans. This reaffirmation of values has led to a
period of renaissance of African American body arts that has taken advantage of the
wider options and resources available to both specialized artists-hair stylists, braiders,
dressmakers, and tailors and to ordinary people who excel at the arts of dress.
References
Griebel, Helen Bradley. 1990. The African American Woman’s Headwrap: Unwinding the
Symbols. In Dress and Identity, eds. Mary Ellen Roach-Higgins, Joanne B.Eicher, and Kim
K.P.Johnson.
Holloman, Lillian O. 1990. Clothing Symbolism in African Greek Letter Organizations. In African
American Dress and Adornment: A Cultural Perspective, eds. B.Starke, L.Holloman, and
B.Nordquist. New York: Kendall Hunt.
Kreamer, Kristin Mullen. 1995. Transatlantic Influences in Headwear. In Crowning Achievements:
African Arts of Dressing the Head. Berkeley: University of California.
Price, Richard, and Sally Price. 1980. Afro American Arts of the Suriname Rain Forest. Berkeley:
University of California Press.
Ross, Doran, Raymond Aaron Silverman, and Agbenyega Adedze. 1999. Wrapped in Pride:
Ghanaian Kente and African American Identity. Los Angeles: UCLA Fowler Museum of
Cultural History Textile Series, no. 2.
Thompson, Robert Farris. 1969. African Influences on the Art of the United States. Reprinted in
Afro American Folk Arts and Crafts, ed. William Ferris. 1983, Jackson: University of
Mississippi Press.
White, Shane, and Graham White. 1998. Stylin’: African American Expressive Culture from Its
Beginnings to the Zoot Suit. Ithaca: Cornell University Press.
DIANA BAIRD N’DIAYE
See also Body Arts: Hair Sculpture; Textile Arts and Communication
African Americans
77
BODY ARTS: HAIR SCULPTURE
All over the continent of Africa, hair art forms a vital part of body adornment for both
men and women. The human head has historically functioned as a portable threedimensional canvas for creatively expressing individual, as well as communal, aesthetic,
and social values. The head may be adorned in intricately designed headdresses, wigs,
jeweled crowns, or hair sculpture. Due to the variety in thickness and texture—from the
tightly curled to the wavy and natural—African hair easily lends itself to several hairsculpting techniques. In various African societies, hair art also developed in relation to
the type of emphasis placed on other forms of body ornamentation. Thus, where elaborate
jewelry, body painting, or cicatrices were intended to serve as the focal point, hair was
cut and shaved to frame the visage accordingly. For example, married Swahili and
Maasai women of East Africa traditionally shaved their heads completely to highlight
large earrings, while Akan queen mothers in West Africa partly shaved the hair around
the nape and forehead to distinguish their regal stature. Sometimes several techniques,
including threading, braiding, twisting, cutting, and shaving, were combined to create
unusual coiffures for special occasions.
In some African cultures, the head itself was coaxed into specially defined shapes
from its bearer’s infancy into adulthood. These shapes were not only desired for their
aesthetic effect, but often were considered to distinguish social standing, enhance a
person’s gait, and express the spiritual values that the community deemed important.
Perhaps the most outstanding example, is the Mangbetu of Central Africa who prized
cone-shaped heads as signs of increased intelligence. An infant’s cranium was molded
with tight bands of hide and tree bark, a process repeated at regular intervals until the
child reached adulthood (Sagay 1983, 25). Mangbetu women designed special hairstyles
to complement the conical shape. They braided the hair in a spiral around the scalp to the
apex, attached hair extensions, and wove these into disc-shaped crowns.
Influence of Slavery
Africa’s sustained contact with Europe during the transatlantic slave trade, and later in
the colonial era (nineteenth and twentieth centuries), affected the trajectory of African
hair art. African slaves sent to the plantations of the New World retained some
knowledge of hair sculpting techniques, which they passed on to their descendants.
Nevertheless, the new environment in the African diaspora induced significant
modifications to the practice of African hair art. Under the harsh conditions of slavery,
time-consuming designs had to be stripped down to their bare essentials. Furthermore, the
rise of eighteenth-century racial ideologies about African inferiority had the most
negative impact on cultivating mixed attitudes toward natural African hair and so-called
Negroid features. African hair was denigrated in such terms as “kinky,” “nappy,”
“woolly,” or “frizzled,” in contrast to more desirable “silky,” “straight” Caucasian hair
types. Thus, the trend in styling natural African hair with hot irons and chemical
straighteners began in the late nineteenth century.
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78
Political and Sociocultural Influences
Global political and sociocultural currents of the late twentieth century revived interest in
African coiffures, especially among a new generation of Africans on the continent, and in
the diaspora. The Negritude political and literary movement of the 1940s, the anticolonial
struggle of the 1950s and 1960s, as well as the rise of black consciousness among African
Americans, sought to affirm “black pride” in the cultural achievements of African people.
The popular slogans “black is beautiful,” “African personality,” or “L’Africanité” were
born in the wake of that political fervor. Also in the 1960s and 1970s, popular cultural
icons like South African singer Miriam Makeba, Jamaican reggae musician Bob Marley,
and African American political activist Angela Davis ushered in a resurgence in plaits,
dreadlocks, braids, natural afros, and African-inspired haircuts. Fashion’s drive towards
new experiences variously labeled “mysterious,” “exotic,” “primitive,” and “earthy” also
increased the currency of African hair art, textiles, fine art, and black fashion models.
Techniques and Designs
In Africa, skills and techniques of natural hairdressing are acquired mostly by informal
apprenticeships, and infrequently by formal vocational training. The former process
remains the most prevalent. The novice gleans the skills by observing an expert hair
artist, perhaps a family member. African hair art has been slow to appear on the curricula
of vocational schools on the African continent. The problem may be attributed to
lingering colonial prejudice within some African educational institutions against the
worthiness of indigenous African art. Limited facilities and resources have also hampered
the expansion of formal training opportunities in the art. The situation is slightly different
outside the continent, where institutions in some European and North American
metropolises now offer programs in African hair art on professional courses in hair care
and cosmetology. An industry is also growing in trade journal publication, marketing
programs, exhibitions, and in the manufacture of a variety of hair care products
specifically designed for natural or processed African hair.
In many African societies, the creation of hair designs is often a collaborative process
between the artist and the client, with the enthusiastic participation of onlookers. The
execution of the design; however, ultimately depends on the shape of the client’s head,
the structure of the face, and the occasion for which the design is intended. Hairstyling
sessions often last several hours, even days, for the execution of more elaborate coiffures.
New hair designs have sometimes been created to chronicle particular historical and
political events in sculptural form. For example, Walantu Walansa, a thread-sculpted
hairstyle, was created to reflect the government’s new green revolution policy in Ghana
in 1974 (Dogbe 1991, 15). In Nigeria, Eko Bridge heralded the constitution of a famous
bridge by the same name. Other designs are visual renditions of proverbs and folktale
heroes like the monkey and Ananse (spider).
Many of the ancient styles reveal the rich history of interethnic trade, such as the
trans-Saharan caravan trade, where jewelry from distant lands became prized ornaments
for embellishing various coiffures. Elsewhere, nature and man-made technological feats
have inspired magnificent styles, such as those created by Fulani women of the western
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Sahel region, that replicate the architecture of these phenomena. Southern African and
West African women wove beads, purchased from European merchants and slave traders,
into hair ornaments to match complete body ensembles. It is possible to trace the nature
of European-African contact through a careful examination of trade goods, and industrial
castoffs, that became resources for body adornment.
Traditionally, the most basic tools required, besides the artist’s skill, to create African
hair art included a comb, some grease, a razor (if needed), and the desired accessories for
decoration. For more elaborate coiffures, thread, hair extensions, dyes, and special
ornaments may be used.
The most widespread hairdressing technique is braiding. This involves weaving three
sections of hair into strands, which may be left to cascade individually down the client’s
head, or massed up into buns, knots, or other desired styles. The woven locks can further
be cropped into short bangs, rebraided, meshed, coiled, or sculpted into magnificent
three-dimensional patterns that simulate an infinite variety of shapes such as stars,
bridges, snakes, baskets, topiaries, and brimmed hats.
Twisting achieves an effect similar to the three-strand braid, except the hair is
sectioned into single or two-fold strands that are twisted into ropelike locks. Often, braid
designs feature a combination of both the woven and twisted techniques. Many
contemporary cascading braid designs, like silky twists, dreadlocks, and kinky locks have
been greatly influenced by techniques mastered by Maasai male warriors (known as
morans), whose long history of twisting delicate braids using red ochre, animal fat, and
clay is legendary (Sagay 1983, 31).
Another variation on the twisted or three-strand braid is the technique of cornrowing,
in which hair is parted into simple or intricately shaped sections (with equal attention
paid to detail in the design created by the parted lines on the scalp), and braided in a
creeping fashion along the scalp, with or without artificial hair extensions. Braid patterns
differ significantly, depending on whether an overhand, underhand, or twisting motion is
used. The loose strands at the end of each braided section are usually decorated with
beads and ornaments, or molded into a variety of coiled, threaded, or wrapped designs.
Hair threading traditionally involves wrapping wool yarn, extra-strong mercerized
cotton, metallic, or nylon thread, tightly and evenly (or unevenly for a specific effect)
around small sections of hair. The hair becomes stiff but pliable and easily coiled or
coaxed into bold geometric shapes perched atop the crown. A late-twentieth-century
variation on threading involves wrapping shiny synthetic hair, instead of thread, around
the natural hair (also called silky locks).
Beyond their use in men’s basic grooming routines, shaving and cutting play an
important role in accentuating symmetry, definition, and intricate detail in the execution
of some sculpted hair styles for both men and women. When combined with other
techniques, varying degrees of shaving (from total hair removal to fades) focus attention
on only the highlighted parts of the cranial canvas, or on jewelry.
The increasing virtual and actual traffic of people, commerce, popular music, art, and
artists across borders continues to fuel the appeal of African hair sculpture among a wider
global audience. People of all ethnic backgrounds frequently wear African-inspired
hairstyles as a fashion statement, to mimic the styles of entertainment icons, or as a form
of cultural identification.
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References
Dogbe, Esi. 1991. African Hair Sculpture—Part 2. Uhuru 2, no. 2: 13–15.
Fisher, Angela. 1984. Africa Adorned. New York: Abrams.
Rooks, Noliwe M. 1996. Hair Raising: Beauty, Culture, and African American Women. New
Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press.
Sagay, Esi. 1983. African Hairstyles. Oxford and Ibadan: Heinemann.
ESI DOGBE
See also Body Arts: African American Arts of the Body; Body Arts: Body
Decoration in Africa; Dress
BOTSWANA
Botswana is a country of 1,620,000 located in the center of southern Africa. Hot and dry,
it is landlocked and bordered by South Africa, Zimbabwe, and Namibia. Most of
Botswana’s people live in the eastern part of the country, as the rest of the country is
predominantly made up of the Kalahari Desert. Gaborone, a city of 133,000 people, is the
capital.
Botswana was first colonized by the English in 1895, and formally called the British
Protectorate of Bechuanaland. It became independent in 1966 as the Republic of
Botswana. The government is parliamentary republic and, as of 1998, President Festus
Mogae serves as head of state. Historically, Botswana had strained relations with
apartheid South Africa and Rhodesia.
Most of Botswana’s population resides in the rural areas of the country. The two major
ethnic groups are the Tswana and the Kalanga. Major languages are (Se)Tswana, English,
Khoisan dialects, Kalanga, and Herero. Approximately three-quarters of the population is
Christian and 70 percent of the adult population is literate.
In 1990, the Kuru Art and Cultural Project was formed by speakers of Khoisan who
were inspired by their community’s ancient rock paintings. The group not only received
interna-tional recognition, but also encouraged and expanded Botswana’s art scene.
In the thirty years since its independence, Botswana has achieved one of the world’s
highest economic growth rates after having been among the ten poorest countries in the
world. Such remarkable prosperity is due, in part, to rapid expansion of mining of nickel,
copper, and cobalt. It is also one of the world’s leading producers of diamonds. Botswana
has fostered its tourism industry, as it is renowned for its beautiful scenery and abundant
wildlife. Chobe National Park is one of the country’s game parks and home to the world’s
largest elephant herds. This growing tourism industry, as well as a successful commercial
agriculture industry (dominated by livestock), have also aided the economic success of
the country.
JENNIFER JOYCE
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BRAZIL
See Diaspora; Religions: Afro-Brazilian Religions
BURKINA FASO
Located in western Africa, Burkina Faso is a landlocked country of approximately
12,060,000 people who are of the Mossi, Gurunsi, Senufo, Lobi, Bobo, Mande, and
Fulani ethnic groups. Burkina Faso, neighbored by Mali, Niger, Benin, Togo, Ghana, and
Cote D’Ivoire, has a climate that ranges from tropical to arid. Nearly 50 percent of the
people speak Mossi, with Senufo, Fula, Bobo, Mande, Gurunsi, and Lobi being the
nation’s other most commonly spoken languages; French is the official language. Half of
the population is Muslim, 40 percent practice traditional indigenous religions, and 10
percent are Christian. Ouagadougou, the nation’s capital, is also its largest city, with
442,000 inhabitants.
In the early fourteenth century, the first Mossi kingdom was established in the area of
what is now Burkina Faso. This kingdom survived for almost six hundred years when, in
1896, the French withstood Mossi resistance and claimed the territory as the “Republic of
Upper Volta.” When French colonial rule finally ended on August 5, 1960, the nation’s
name was changed to Burkina Faso. After leading a coup in 1983, Captain Thomas
Sankara became head of state and was widely respected throughout West Africa;
however, he was assassinated during another coup in 1987.
Unfortunately, in the years since independence, the country has suffered from severe
drought, which has damaged the largely agricultural economy. In the 1990s, however, the
nation’s economy has benefited from a slight annual growth rate. Burkina Faso’s natural
resources include manganese, limestone, marble, gold, uranium, bauxite, and copper,
while agricultural production revolves around millet, sorghum, corn, rice, livestock,
peanuts, shea nuts, sugarcane, cotton, and sesame. The country’s principle industries and
sources of revenue are agricultural processing, brewing, and light industry. Tragically,
adult literacy in Burkina Faso is only 19 percent, which is the second lowest in the world.
Burkina Faso has produced many of Africa’s filmmakers. The government has
nationalized its movie theaters and strongly encourages the showing of films by African
directors. Ouagadougou is the home to the biannual Pan-African Film Festival, which has
been a strong force in the development of the African film industry for several decades.
JENNIFER JOYCE
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BURUNDI
Burundi is one of the smallest and most crowded countries in Africa, with a population of
nearly 7 million peoples living in 27,834 square miles. Bujumbura is the country’s capital
and largest city. Burundi lies just south of the equator in east central Africa. It is
neighbored by Rwanda, Tanzania, and the Democratic Republic of Congo. Its climate is
cool and pleasant, as it is a rather mountainous country. Burundi’s population is
predominantly Hutu (83%), while 15 percent is Tutsi. The remaining 2 percent is made
up of the Twa and other groups. The major languages spoken are Kirundi, French, and
Kiswahili. Over half of Burundi’s people are Christian, while 32 percent are practice
traditional indigenous religions. Approximately 1 percent are Muslim.
After many years of colonization, Burundi won its independence on July 1, 1962, and
formed its own republic state. The history of Burundi is one of a people deeply divided.
In 1993, the murder of the only democratically elected president Melchior Ndadye, killed
only a few months after taking office, sparked vast interethnic violence. In 1994, the
presidents of both Burundi and Rwanda were killed. Another period of violence followed
and more than 150,000 were killed as a result.
In addition to the country’s cycles of violence, the nation’s development has been
further hampered by population pressure and geographical isolation. Burundi
consequently remains one of the poorest countries in the world. Burundi’s natural
resources consist of nickel, uranium, cobalt, copper, platinum, coffee, tea, and cotton. Its
economy is primarily agricultural.
JENNIFER JOYCE
African Americans
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C
CALL-AND-RESPONSE
See Dialogic Performances: Call-and-Response in African Narrating
CALLAWAY, BISHOP HENRY H. (1817–
1890)
Edward Tylor, the “father of anthropology,” personally supported his research and Paul
Radin once asserted that he had “laid the foundations for the scientific study of native
African religion and folklore” (1970, 1). Nevertheless, one hardly encounters the name of
this extraordinary Anglican missionary, Bishop Henry Callaway, at all any longer.
Born in Lymington, England, in 1817, Henry Callaway always wanted to be a minister
in the Church of England; but spiritual doubts led him to the Quakers. By 1844 he had
become qualified to practice medicine and he married in a Quaker ceremony the next
year. The loss of his first two children to illness surely increased his questioning of
organized religion. In 1853 he left the Quakers and rejoined the Church of England. The
following year he departed for Durban to began his missionary work.
Callaway immediately began recording Zulu customs and language with his primary
translator and informat, Umpengula (Benham 1896, 77). He soon had amassed hundreds
of pages of data and published A Kaffir’s Autobiography in 1861. Callaway’s first major
academic contribution was Nursery Tales, Traditions, and Histories of the Zulus (1868).
In his introduction, Callaway observed that these tales were a means of “discovering what
was the character of the mind of the people.”
In addition to noting the importance of the Zulu narratives themselves, Callaway also
contributed the rigor of his fieldwork, the recognition of the indigenous perspective, and
the value of original language texts. Although any collection of texts made over one
hundred years ago has intrinsic value, Callaway’s research techniques are especially
impressive. His initial motivation in learning Zulu may have been to translate Christian
prayers and psalms, but his work took him far beyond this. Callaway’s insistence on
publishing parallel Zulu and English texts provides an invaluable record for today’s
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scholars. In fact, it is still a struggle to get indigenous texts published today. He
anticipated recognition of the value of studying personal narratives.
Another noteworthy contribution by Callaway was the recognition of the importance
of good informants and his care in authenticating the recorded accounts. In his journal of
1860, he wrote, “It is very important whilst tracing out their [Zulu] traditions to be
careful not to mingle with them suggestions of our own, or thoughts which they have
already had suggested to them by others” (Benham 1896, 225). From the preface to his
collection of Zulu narratives:
A native is requested to tell a tale; and to tell it exactly as he would tell it
to a child or a friend; and what he says is faithfully written down…What
has been thus written can be read to the native who dictated it; corrections
be made; explanations be obtained; doubtful points be submitted to other
natives; and it can be subjected to any amount of analysis the writer may
think fit to make.
It is at this analytical stage that Callaway loses contemporary scholars because he sought
to establish universal associations for these tales, a goal which fit the cultural evolutionist
paradigm of the time. His few footnotes always present assumed parallels with European
and Asian “fairy tales.” Nevertheless, the rigor and consideration he advised remain as
excellent guides for fieldworkers today. In fact, his commentary never reveals the
disparaging observations characteristic of his contemporary, the missionary Henri Junod.
Callaway’s most important work, The Religious System of the Amazulu, was published
in 1870. Surely his assertion that the people had “a well-defined religious system” was a
unique position, especially for an Anglican missionary at the end of the nineteenth
century. This work was to include four sections covering traditions of creation, ancestor
worship, divination, and “medical magic,” and witchcraft. As with his folklore volume,
Callaway presents his informants’ accounts verbatim in Zulu with parallel English
translations and only occasional footnotes.
A year later, Callaway offered an analysis of divination in which, as a nineteenthcentury religious “man of science,” he sought to understand human spirituality in its
broadest sense. Callaway asserted that “there is a power of clairvoyance, naturally
belonging to the human mind, or, in the words of a native [Zulu] speaking on this subject,
There is something which is divination within man’” (1871–1872, 165, 168–69). This
perspective was not well received at the Royal Anthropological Institute and, despite
Edward Tylor’s support, Callaway never received funds to complete publication of the
fourth section of his Religious System of the Amazulu. He returned to South Africa and
became the Bishop of Kaffraria, but he conducted no further folklore research. Ill health
forced his retirement to Devon, England, in 1887, where he died in 1890.
Clearly, Callaway struggled with his personal religious beliefs and scientific training
throughout his life, but his goals were always humanitarian. While he may not have
achieved personal peace, in the end he left a priceless record of Zulu personal narratives,
tales, and historical records in their own language.
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References
Benham, Marian S. 1896. Henry Callaway, MD, DD, First Bishop for Karrraria, His Life-History
and Work, A Memoir, ed. Rev. Canon Benham. London: Macmillan.
Callaway, Bishop Henry. 1868. Nursery Tales, Traditions, and Histories of the Zulus.
——. 1871–1872. On Divination and Analogous Phenomena Among the Natives of Natal. Journal
of the Royal Anthropological Institute 1:163–85.
——. 1970. The Religious System of the Amazulu (1870). Cape Town: C.Struik.
Radin, Paul. 1970. African Folktales (1952). New York: Pantheon Books.
PHILIP M.PEEK
See also Divination; Southern African Oral Traditions
CAMEROON (UNITED REPUBLIC OF
CAMEROON)
Cameroon is a country on the western coast of central Africa, neighboring Nigeria, Chad,
Central African Republic, Congo, Gabon, and Equatorial Guinea. The country’s climate
ranges from tropical to semiarid. Slightly larger than California, Cameroon has a
population of around 15 million. Its capital and largest city is Yaounde. Thirty-one
percent of the country’s population is Cameroonian Highlander, 19 percent is Equatorial
Bantu, 11 percent is Kirdi, 10 percent is Fulani, and the remaining 29 percent is made up
of various smaller groups. The major indigenous languages are Fulani, Ewondo, Duala,
Bamelike, Bassa, and Bali, with English and French being the official languages of the
state. Over half of the population practice traditional indigenous religions, 33 percent are
Christian (mostly Roman Catholic), and 16 percent are Muslim.
During its long history of colonization, Cameroon was ruled by Germans (who lost
their territory after World War I), British, and French until the nation finally won its
independence on January 1, 1960. Actually, British Southern Cameroon gained its
independence a year later and joined the former French Cameroon, while British
Northern Cameroon joined Nigeria. Unfortunately, the country has been plagued by
political turmoil since its independence. In 1992, however, the country held its first
multiparty elections after twenty-five years of a single-party rule, but there has been little
change in the government policies of President Biya. Tragically, Cameroon is ranked as
one of the most corrupt nations in the world and has a poor human rights record. Further
troubles exist in ongoing border dispute with Nigeria about their shared coastal areas.
Cameroon’s major industries and sources of revenue are timber, oil, coffee, cocoa,
cotton, bananas, peanuts, and tea. It does seem to be recovering from the economic
problems of the 1990s. Cameroon used to have a literacy rate of 76 percent, the highest in
Africa, until the World Bank forced the country to abandon its free primary education
program; the rate has now dropped to 63 percent. Nevertheless, the country is trying to
maintain its extensive educational system with seven universities, thirty-three teacher’s
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training colleges, and a dozen different institutes for specialist training. Another bright
spot is its successful national soccer team, which won the gold medal at the 2000
Olympics, and has competed in the World Cup in 1982, 1990, 1994, 1998, and 2002.
Cameroon’s Korup rain forest is soon to be a national park, as it was recently discovered
to contain more than 42,000 trees, including seventeen tree species than had never before
been described.
The ancient kingdoms of the highlands, such as the Bamileke and Bamum, have long
been recognized for their spectacular royal architecture and arts such as elaborate beaded
masks, sculptures and thrones. Coastal peoples have large canoes with carved
decorations.
JENNIFER JOYCE
CAPE VERDE (REPUBLIC OF CAPE
VERDE)
Located off the west coast of Africa, Cape Verde is a temperate archipelago of ten islands
inhabited by some 437,000 people. Praia, a city of 37,670 is the nation’s capital. Seventyone percent of Cape Verde’s population is Creole, 28 percent is African, and 1 percent is
European. The two major languages spoken on the islands are Portuguese and Kriolu
(Crioulo or Creole). The majority of Cape Verdeans are Catholic (80 percent), while the
remaining population practice traditional indigenous religions. Most of the islanders are
descendants of the Portuguese settlers and African slaves. The blending of these two
cultural groups formed the basis for the Cape Verdean Kriolu language.
Portugal ruled these islands for nearly five hundred years but after a fierce liberation
struggle for many years, Cape Verde gained its independence on July 5, 1975. After
fifteen years of single-party rule, Cape Verde adopted a new constitution and
reimplemented a multiparty system. Unfortunately, such changes have not solved the
country’s economic woes. Environmental erosion, drought, and an underdeveloped
economy have plagued Cape Verde since independence. Only 15 percent of the land is
suitable for cultivation and the country is consequently unable to become self-sufficient
in food production. What little agriculture there is produces corn, beans, manioc, sweet
potatoes, and bananas. Textiles have been a successful industry, while fishing has
potential to become a great source of revenue for the country.
The Cape Verdean Kriolu culture has a vibrant literary and musical tradition and Cape
Verdean bands have become relatively popular on an international level. Local drama,
poetry, and music are also broadcast on the national television service. Their spectacular
festivals and Cesária Évora, one of their most popular singers, have become known
throughout the world.
JENNIFER JOYCE
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CARDINAL DIRECTIONS
A cardinal direction is a pivotal line or course along which persons or things move. An
object is pivotal if a related part rotates around it or if it determines an effect. A direction,
for its part, is an act of management and guidance or a line leading to a place or point.
Cardinal directions, as the meanings of the term’s constituent parts suggest, are at once
among the products and the producers of culture. Cultural forms and practices from
across Africa and the African diaspora help clarify the nature of this dialectic.
Historical Developments
In cultures around the world, cardinal directions have figured prominently in navigating
the oceans and land routes, locating objects in referential practice, and addressing
ancestors, gods, and spirits. It is widely assumed that relatively early in human history,
cardinal directions were determined through such means as the rising and setting of the
sun and moon, seaward and landward paths, the course of rivers, and the movement of
the stars. Tied to many of these movements and positions, flora also signified direction.
In regions of North America, for example, bark grows thicker and its folds run deeper on
the north and west side of numerous tree species. Also, the branches of these same trees
tend to be thicker on the south and east side while their roots grow vertically to the east of
the tree.
Over time, key directions were given material form: crosses, circles, diamonds, and an
array of intersecting lines were chiseled into rock, cut into skin, carved into wood, and
woven into a host of oral cultural forms. Early Asian and Middle Eastern societies were
highly sophisticated with regard to this inscription process. Near 2500 BCE, Babylonian
astrologers charting star movements sketched a 360-degree circle in the sky, giving 30
degrees to each of their twelve constellations. At around the same time, Chinese
inventors constructed the first magnetic compass. It was discovered that magnetite (or,
lodestone), placed on wood and floated in water, reliably pointed due south (actually, the
earth’s magnetic north and a point halfway between sunrise and sunset).
It was around 1000 CE that the Chinese compass was introduced to Europeans,
initiating a process that would have profound import for world history. In the fourteenth
century, the Portuguese map maker Pedro Reinel drew the first thirty-two point compass
rose. Originally called a wind rose, this diagram was typically inscribed on maps and
nautical charts and depicted the eight major winds, the eight half winds, and the sixteen
quarter winds. In contemporary terms, these thirty-two directions map the cardinal points
along with the primary, secondary, and “tertiary” intercardinal points. Today’s
standardized cardinal points include north (0/360 degrees), east (90 degrees), south (180
degrees), and west (270 degrees). Of significance is the fact that Reinel first drew his
compass rose on a map of West Africa. Suffice it to say here that advances in navigation
were intimately linked to the context of trade expansion and a host of colonial ambitions.
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Cartographic Perspectives
Cartography has been usefully described as a key facet of any “general history of
communication about space” (Harley 1987 I, 1). David Woodward and G. Malcolm
Lewis (1998) distinguish three broad foci of cartography: material cartography,
performance cartography, and cognitive cartography. It is the intersection of each of these
categories that will be the focus of much of the present essay.
Mental maps, a term widely used in much cognitive cartography, can be employed to
designate mental representations of key human spatial ideas. Consider the example of the
“cardinal direction cross” (two intersecting lines with terminal points marked N, S, E,
W). How might such a mental representation form? For centuries now, material signs
such as the cardinal direction cross have been an important part of human “surrogate
reasoning,” that is, problem solving employing “external” aids such as the calculator,
pen, compass, or diagram. Over time, the cross was constructed as a “mental surrogate”
(Barwise and Shimojima 1995) which, throughout the process of its construction,
invested place with novel meanings (performance), while being invested itself and
articulated with other meaning systems such as corporeal schemata, language, and a host
of material objects.
This dialectic between cognitive, performative, and material representations is, of
course, at work in many African cultural forms and practices. Consider the example of
the aduno kine (life of the world), a Dogon rock painting found on the Bandiagara
escarpment in Mali. In this painting, the cardinal directions cross forms the arms and
torso of the universal order while two ellipses at the head and legs signify celestial and
terrestrial placentae. Marcel Griaule (1949) demonstrates that this generative image
became the architectural basis for “village” layout, individual residences, hearth spaces,
the organization of agricultural fields, weaving designs, and even gendered sleep patterns.
Similarly, in rock paintings of a Dogon creation myth, the cardinal direction cross—this
time with a circle at its center—represents the god Amma, who, in creating the earth,
threw a ball of clay which expanded in four directions—the top being north and the
bottom being south. The same representation of the cardinal directions is also found in
the kanaga mask and sanctuary wall drawings (Griaule and Dieterien 1951).
Cardinal directions also figure prominently in the Bakongo tendwa kia nza-n’kongo
(the four moments of the sun). Here, the corner points of diamond and cross shapes
signify the sun’s travel through four stations—dawn, noon, sunset, and midnight.
Variations on the Bakongo design are also found in Kongo funerary art from the
Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) and rock paintings from Angola (Thompson
and Cornet 1981). The Tabwa people of the DRC have a variety of aids for the telling and
remembering of myths and oral histories. One example is the incisions on the skin of
initiates to the Butwa society that tell of the migration of mythic and ancestral figures. A
V-shaped line on a society member’s back intersected by a second line running up the
spine distinguish east from west and mirrors the path of the Milky Way and Orion’s Belt
(Woodward and Lewis 1998). Finally, Tabwa “villages” are generally plotted in a northsouth orientation (Roberts 1988). Each of the cultures mentioned above worked with the
skies in imagining the cardinal directions.
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Little has been said thus far about the semiotic dimension of the cardinal direction
cross. The cross is what Charles Saunders Peirce defined as a diagram. Peirce’s threefold
division of signs includes signs related to their object by convention (symbol), by
existential connection (index), or by resemblance (icon). Hypo-icons are signs based on
iconicity but that also exhibit indexical and/or symbolic features. There are three types of
hypo-icons: images, metaphors, and diagrams (for an important discussion of the primary
components of the diagram see Blackwell and Engelhardt 2001). In most definitions, the
diagram is noted for the efficiency of information processing it enables.
Language is a particularly useful place to look at the dialectic between cognitive
frameworks and performance. Consider a long-term project being carried out by the
Language and Cognition section of the Max Planck Institute for Psycholinguistics. The
project engages ethnographic work in some twelve cultures and spans at least ten years.
One of the major contentions of the group is the existence and importance of covariation
between categories of spatial reference and nonlinguistic conceptualizations—a
contention in dialogue with the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis (see Lucy 1992). Stephen
Levinson and his colleagues (2002), drawing from the Institute’s work with an array of
cultures, argues that there are at least three broad spatial coordinate systems used in
languages: (1) the “relative” frame in which objects are located via subject-centered
points of the corporeal field (left/ right, back/front)—example: The tomato is to the left of
the apple (subject’s view); (2) the “intrinsic” frame wherein objectcentered coordinates
focus on the object’s intrinsic facets—example: The tomato is at the apple’s side; and (3)
the “absolute” frame in which objects are referred to with regard to their position in
relation to fixed cardinal directions—example: The tomato is to the south of the apple.
Lucy (1998) and Haviland (1998) provide important refinements of these distinctions.
Working with the distinctions, it stands to reason that Bantu Kgalagadi speakers, who
operate with a mixture of relative and absolute frames (Levinson et. al. 2002), maintain a
substantively different orientation to the world than English speakers who rely on a
mixture of intrinsic and relative frames (the latter being dominant).
Bodily Center, Social Body
Necessary to any discussion of cardinal directions is the notion of a center. Many cultures
consider the center to be an invariant “cardinal place” (Hanks 1990). Also widespread is
the idea of a “moving center” (or a “bodily space” Hank 1990, 90) based on the corporeal
field. Examples of this “moving center” include the fitula or ceremonial candelabra from
Mali. The fitula is placed in the ground at the center of ceremonial performances.
Diverted from the central axis of the candelabra are four stems reaching toward the four
cardinal directions and supporting a total of twenty-eight oil cups (Prussin 2002, image
2004). Among the Fulbe of Mali there exists a woman’s hairstyle that features five sets of
beads arranged in concentric circles around a center point (the “axis of personal space”
Prussin 2002, image 1994). The Taureg tamakeit from Mauritania also illustrates the
bodily center. This central pole and primary wooden supports of the Taureg tent serves to
establish a gendered locale (Prussin 2002, image 1993A).
The cultural forms and practices of the Ga people of Ghana make frequent reference to
a center cardinal place. Dzeng kodzii enumo is the phrase used to refer to the four cardinal
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directions while dzeng teng refers to the middle of the world (Kilson 1971:74). The ritual
hair style of Ga mediums known as the kukuru consists of five braided “cones” whose
positioning reproduces Ga conceptions of the four cardinal directions and a center. The
ritual brooms of Ga priests are also fashioned after the same conceptions.
While individual bodily space is often at the core of the notion of the “moving center,”
the social body is of equal import in African cultures. In southern and northern central
Africa, concern with life, death, afterlife, and community inform many burial practices.
Some 20,000 years ago, ancestors of the San residing in what is now Botswana and in the
Kalahari Desert of Southern Africa buried their dead facing east with knees tied close to
the chest (fetal position). From around 1700 BCE, Nubian cultures in what is now Sudan
buried their dead in round graves, set in a fetal position with the head facing east. Further
south, near the site of Ancient Kerma (2400–2050 BCE), bodies were laid in narrow,
circular graves, covered with leather sheets, and contracted into the fetal position—again
with the head facing east. Charles Bonnet suggests that such an eastward-facing
positioning of the head was a “rule obeyed in all the necropolises right to the end of the
kingdom’s [Kerma] history” (1997, 90). Finally, King Piy (747–716), who was buried
with his ancestors beneath a pyramid at Kurru, provided burial accommodations for four
of his horses. The animals were entered standing and facing east. In many of the ancient
upper and lower Nile river valley cultures, the east represented the place from which
emerged newly forged creation. The passage from death to life was a process of
remolding or reformulation. Like Khoprer (“the Becoming One”) from the mythology of
the Egyptian Old Kingdom, whose representation is that of the scarab beetle pushing its
eggs encased in a ball of its own dung, the rising of the sun in the east is one of the
ultimate acts of creation. Death and loss in the social body is balanced by an anticipated
generation of novel forms.
Hybrid Cartographies
The very flexible cognitive structures and cultural practices around the world are the
result of long-standing streams of human exchanges (Gupta and Ferguson 1992). These
exchanges also cross temporal boundaries. African cultural forms and practices, for
example, have made their way off the continent and combined with non-African religious
practices to form unique hybrids. For example, Yoruba beliefs and ritual practices have
combined with biblical texts and Christian liturgy in the Celestial Church of Christ.
Founded in 1947 by the Nigerian-born Samuel Oschoffa, the church boasts some 3
million members who are scattered from the United States and Canada to Europe and
from Togo and Cote d’Ivoire to Senegal (Adogame 1998). The actual site of worship for
church members is considered to be sacred ritual space. The Holy Spirit is believed to
manifest itself in the four archangels positioned at the four cardinal directions. Church
members pray while facing the cardinal directions. The Archangel Michael, located at the
east, holds the ida, or spiritual sword and is the dominant of the four angels. Gabriel, at
the west, is the angel of blessing. Raphael, the angel of health, is located at the south,
while Uriel presides over the north and oversees gift giving and receiving.
Haitian vodou is a complex “agglomeration” involving: (1) Kongo symbolism, Fon
and Yoruba beliefs, and Yoruba alters (all these brought to the island by coastal,
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northwestern and central African slaves in the early 1500s); (2) beliefs of indigenous
South American Indians; and (3) Catholicism—originally introduced by colonizing
Spanish and French forces (Barris 2000). The notion of vodou itself is often interpreted to
name intermediary powers, unexplained natural forces, and gods. In this conception,
voodoo are associated with ancestral objects and they wield total control of the cardinal
directions on earth.
Finally, uncovered in New York City (lower Manhattan) in 1991, is a site now called
the New York City African Burial Ground. Throughout much of the eighteenth century,
the site was occupied by freed and enslaved African peoples. Thought to be buried in the
area (stacked three deep in some locations), are 10,000 to 20,000 people—most of them
laid to rest facing east (Frohne 2000). Artists Houston Conwill, Joseph DePace, and
Estella Conwill Majozo recently collaborated on an instillation entitled The New Ring
Shout. A 40-foot diagram constructed of brass and terrazzo, the work is built into the
floor of the central rotunda of the 290 Broadway Building (the “290 Building” was
erected virtually atop the burial ground). In a series of bold acts of insensitivity, planners
and laborers on the thirty-four-story building poured concrete on graves, damaged grave
sites, and destroyed collected remains. The commemorative work, The New Ring Shout,
draws heavily upon BaKongo cosmology and the yowa cross, a representation of, among
other things, the movement of the sun through its four stations (see MacGaffey 1983).
Emerging from bodily orientation and celestial movements, then represented in a host
of material forms, cardinal directions solidify into cognitive schemata. At the same time,
cardinal direction image-schemata, when put into practice via various forms of
navigation, spatial reference, and object formation, themselves reconfigure the corporeal
field, semantic relations, locales and pathways, and social relations.
References
Adogame, Afe. 1998. Building Bridges and Barricades. Framed: Marburg journal of Religion 3,
no. 1:1–9.
Barris, Roann. 2000. Calling on the Gods: The Embodied Aesthetic of Haitian Vodou. Eastern
Illinois University Aesthetics. Available from (http://www.ux1.eiu.edu/~dfrb/haitianvodou.htm);
accessed 22 December 2002.
Barwise, Jon, and Atsushi Shimojima. 1995. Surrogate Reasoning. Cognitive Studies: Bulletin of
Japanese Cognitive Science Society 4, no. 2:7–27.
Blackwell, Alan, and Yuri Engelhardt. 2001. A Meta-Taxonomy for Diagram Research. In
Diagrammatic Representation and Reasoning, eds. P.Olivier, M.Anderson, and B.Myers,
Springer-Verlag.
Bonnet, Charles. 1997. The Kingdom of Kerma. In Sudan: Ancient Kingdoms of the Nile, ed.
Dietrich Wildung, Paris: Flammarion.
De Maret, Pierre. 1994. Archaeological and Other Prehistoric Evidence of Traditional African
Religious Expression. In Religion in Africa: Experience and Expression, eds. Blakely Thomas,
Walter van Beek, and Dennis Thomson. London: James Currey.
Frohne, Andre. Commemorating the African Burial Ground in New York City: Spirituality of
Space in Contemporary Art Works. Ijele: Art-e Journal of the African World. 1. Available from
http://www.ijele.com/ijele/vol1.1/frohne.html; accessed 15 December 2002.
Griaule, Marcel. 1949. L’image du monde au Soudan. Journal de la Societe des Africanistes 19:81–
87.
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Griaule, Marcel, and Germaine Dieterlen. 1951. Signes graphiques soudanais. L’Homme, Cahiers
d’Ethnologie, de Geographic et de Linguistique 3. Paris: Hermann.
Gupta, Akhil, and James Ferguson. 1992. Beyond “Culture”: Space, Identity, and the Politics of
Difference. Cultural Anthropology 7, no. 1:6–23.
Hanks, William. 1990. Referential Practice: Language and Lived Space among the Maya. Chicago:
The University of Chicago Press.
Harley, J.B. 1987. The Map and the Development of the History of Cartography. In The History of
Cartography, vol. 1. eds. J.B.Harley and David Woodward. Chicago: The University of
Chicago Press.
Haviland, John. 1998. Guugu Yimithirr Cardinal Directions. Ethnos 26, no. 1:25–47.
Kilson, Marion. 1971. Kpele Lala: Ga Religious Songs and Symbols. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard
University Press.
Levinson, Stephen, et al. 2002. Returning the Tables: Language Affects Spatial Reasoning.
Cognition, 84 no. 2:155–188.
Lucy, John. 1992. Language Diversity and Thought. Cambridge, Mass.: Cambridge University
Press.
——. 1998. Space in Language and Thought: Commentary and Discussion. Ethnos, 26 no. 1:105–
111.
MacGaffey, Wyatt. 1983. Modern Kongo Prophets: Religion in a Plural Society. Bloomington:
Indiana University Press.
Prussin, Labelle. 2002. Harvard Divinity School, Center for the Study of World Religion: Image
Bank, 2002. Available from (http://www.hds.harvard.ed%20u%20cswr/imagbank/anncann.htm); accessed 20 December 2002
Roberts, Allen F. 1988. Tabwa Tegumentary Inscription. In Marks of Civilization: Artistic
Transformations of the Human Body, ed. Arnold Rubin. Los Angeles: Museum of Cultural
History.
Thompson, Robert Farris, and Joseph Cornet. 1981. The Four Moments of the Sun: Kongo Art in
Two Worlds. Washington, D.C.: National Gallery of Art.
Woodward, David, and G.Malcolm Lewis, eds. 1998. The History of Cartography. Vol. 2, Book 3,
Cartography in the Traditional African, American, Arctic, Australian, and Pacific Societies.
Chicago: The University of Chicago Press.
PAUL W.HANSON
See also Astronomy; Cosmology; Housing: African American Traditions
CARIBBEAN VERBAL ARTS
Between 1519 and 1867, approximately 5 million African slaves arrived in the Caribbean
and the Guyanas. European observers of Caribbean life during this period commented on
the constant chatter of the enslaved and their love for formal speech. These behaviors
stemmed from African cultural sources: the reliance on orality rather than literacy; the
grounding of community in constant acknowledgment of the presence of other humans;
and the high incidence of formality in social interaction within markedly hierarchical
societies.
Far less hierarchical social relations have since evolved in the Caribbean, primary
hierarchical principles in the Caribbean hav-ing historically been bound up with skincolor differentials. The inclination to formality in speech has, therefore, not survived the
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social leveling produced by the demographic preponderance of dark-skinned peoples in
the region, the ongoing collapse of color and class rigidities, and the democratization
engineered by educational access and communication technology. In Caribbean
discourse, little privilege is given to considerations of age or ethnicity, while persistence
and volume assure the speaker a listenership. Residual formal speech has, in the twentieth
century, been confined to masquerade styles, such as in the Grenada and Trinidad Pierrot
Grenade, or to peasant weddings and festivals in the Anglophone territories of St.
Vincent, St. Kitts, Jamaica, Guyana, Trinidad, and Barbados. The hallmark of such
speech was the use of polysyllabic words and Latin phrases, some of them neologisms,
some contextually misapplied. Another genre of masquerade speechifying is robber talk,
grandiloquent boasts performed by the “robber” at the traditional Trinidad carnival.
Another traditional verbal skill, particularly among males, has been the composition of
rhymed couplets. Although this practice seems currently confined to popular lyrics in
Jamaican dancehall music, it was previously a verbal game at which males in barbershops
and other leisure locations competed for supremacy. In a similarly competitive vein,
parallel or opposing proverbs are traded at wakes in Guyana villages during sessions.
Proverbs have been a dominant device incorporated into the narrative and analytic
commentaries of Caribbean peoples. Proverbs derive from the Bible, and from Europe by
way of education, but the majority are African derived in sentiment, their reliance on
animal references, and their metaphoric format.
Hostile Verbal Exchanges
Hostile verbal exchanges may win an appreciative audience response because the
exchanges constitute an exhibition of appropriate proverbs. Another memorable device in
verbal abuse is the outlandish simile. The formulaic themes of these heated exchanges
include accusations of ugliness, unhygienic personal habits, and poverty. Many relate to
sexual promiscuity, deviance, ineffectiveness, and infertility. Quarreling or telling off is a
more issue-focused type of verbal aggression, for which an audience may not be an
essential element. In either of these confrontations, the “setup” or “suck-teeth” may
occur. This is an indrawn fricative through clenched teeth and slightly parted lips either
pouted or laterally lengthened. It is a provocative sign of scorn and disrespect. The body
language of confrontation involves placing the hand akimbo, thumping of the outthrust
chest, pointing of the index finger into the face of the interlocutor, raising of the dress and
exposure of the behind, and the exaggerated flinging of one hand away from the body.
The female embellishment to this last gesture may include walking away from the
interlocutor with a slow, exaggerated swing of the hips and buttocks.
Another hostile verbal device is called a drop word or throw word. This employs
indirection, but while its meaning is not shrouded as in a proverb, the addressee is not the
obvious interlocutor. The latter is merely the medium to whom the remark is addressed,
but within the earshot of the intended recipient. Then there are the direct remarks meant
to embarrass the addressee, to tease as in a joking relationship, or to flatter. Each island
has a slate of terms for these speech forms, with Trinidad being noteworthy in this regard.
There, the term picong refers to a coded remark which is said in jest, but which contains
the germ of a deprecating truth.
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Folktales
Wakes continue to be occasions for the narration of folktales in rural areas of the
Caribbean. Folktales were also traditionally recounted on moonlight nights on house
verandahs and steps. In Jamaica, Grenada, St. Lucia, and Dominica, riddle sessions may
precede the recounting of tales, and riddles can be posed in casual adult gatherings and
among schoolchildren. In the francophone-influenced Eastern Caribbean, riddles are
known as tim-tim, based on the exclamatory announcement of a riddle session: “Tim,
tim,” the riddle-giver cries, to which the listeners shout, “Bwa shess!” (Dry wood).
The tales which follow the riddle warm-up session derive from Europe, and in large
part from Africa; dilemma tales, duppy (ghost) stories, wonder-child and monster stories
form part of the repertoire, but trickster tales predominate. The trickster may be the Akan
spider Anansi, after whom the folktales are generically named, the Senegambian rabbitsized antelope variously called Rabbit or Hare, or the Yoruba tortoise. The trickster is
called Malice in Haiti, his dupe being Bouki, the Wolof term for hyena. Among other
dupes are Tiger, Elephant, Alligator, Dog, and Monkey. The Jamaican Big Boy character
in tales called after him is a combination of trickster, dunce, and wordmagician. Some
folktales still contain songs, sometimes cryptic, in which the audience participates, while
narrative devices include the use of onomatopoeia and ideophones, hand and facial
gestures, and opening and/or closing devices. Among closing formulae is Jamaica’s:
“Jack Mandora, me no choose none,” an apparent disclaimer on the part of the narrator
for having told the fiction, and the Eastern Caribbean’s: “The wire ben’, the story en’” or
“Crick crack, Monkey break he back.” In fact, “crick crack” is one of the main opening
formulae in the eastern Caribbean, the r/conteur throwing out the first word and the
audience replying with the second. This call-and-response device is repeated at intervals
throughout the narrative.
It is only among the declining group of Amerindians that creation narratives are to be
found, and only among Maroons, descendants of runaway slaves in Surinam and Jamaica,
that the germs of potential epic narrative can be discerned in the recall of community
founders, migration treks, and mythically stated rationalizations of their special
relationships with other groups. In Indian communities within Guyana and Trinidad,
there is a storytelling tradition centered around royal personages, public officials, and
Hindu deities. Indeed, the main dramatic production of Hindu communities there is the
staging of the Ramleela, based on the holy text, the Ramayana, in which Lord Ram
liberates the cosmos from the forces of chaos by rescuing his wife Sita from her abductor,
the demon king Ravana, with the aid of the monkey god, Hanuman. The African parallels
to this sacred lore lie in the tradition of religious narratives about Yoruba orisha or
divinities worshiped in religions such as Cuba’s regla de ocha or santeria, and Bahia’s
candomble in Brazil. The orisha religion is practiced in Trinidad, but the corpus of divine
narratives has been lost, although a large number of chants in the Yoruba language is still
in use, the meanings of which are unclear to their singers, but which, when decoded, in
large part relate to the submerged narrative corpus. These chants function to call the
deities into religious ceremonies and to accompany the dances that form an integral part
of the ceremonial. Given the social and religious restrictions historically imposed on nonChristian religions in the Caribbean, a number of residual Yoruba secular songs, like
dirges and marriage songs, have been absorbed into this corpus of chants in both Cuba
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and Trinidad. Some chants form part of liturgical antiphonies and are unaccompanied by
the drum, which is integral to the performance of the majority of the sacred songs.
Call-and-Response Mechanisms
Traditional folk melodies are short and repetitive, with call-and-response patterning being
basic to many Caribbean song, instrumental, and performance styles. Even in
conversation, it is normal for the listener to underline the speaker’s discourse by uttering
“ok,” “yes,” or vocables to signal that the hearer is comprehending, and that the personal
interaction is taking place. Apart from the structural principle of antiphony, whether of
lead-singer and chorus, or alternating pitch sequences, another structural device is rhyme,
either of consecutive or alternating lines. In addition, even or near-even syllable quantity
appears to be one of the structural properties of blocks of lines or breath-groups in
calypso and dancehall songs.
It is still possible to detect the melodic and rhythmic legacies of Akan, Fon, Yoruba,
and Central African musical traditions in Caribbean folksongs, along with those from
France, Spain, Portugal, and England.
Although call-and-response mechanisms and choruses make for regularity, stock
melodic phrases and rhythmic patterns may also constitute formulaic structures that allow
new songs to be formed. This was the manner in which the stock of traditional folksongs
was replenished. The methodology is still revived in extempore calypso composition in
Trinidad where performers utilize a narrow range of melodies, and in the reggae and
dancehall song genres in Jamaica where various rhythmic sequences become attractive to
other singers, who exploit the effectiveness of these established rhythms in creating new
songs.
Popular Songs
Thematically, Caribbean popular song has focused on social commentary and complaint,
exaltation of the song genre itself, incitement to dance and sexual activity, boasts, and
celebration of spiritual forces. Under the influence of European and North American song
traditions, some singers also treat romantic love, but the treatment of love in the
indigenous tradition has been male centered in its predatory and misogynist inclinations.
On the other hand, the sentimental Arabic treatment of love as passed through the
Spanish tradition, together with the high demographic presence of whites in Spanish
Caribbean populations, have meant that the theme of romantic love has continued to be
vigorous in the Hispanophone Caribbean.
With the increase in quality and variety of audiovisual technologies, contemporary
Caribbean song genres enjoy strong local, regional, and in some cases, international
popularity. Song types such as Haitian kompa, St. Lucian kadance, Guadeloupean and
Martinican zouk, Jamaican reggae, and Trinidadian soca are outgrowths of traditional
song types, both sacred and secular, now blended with musical influences from
contemporary India, Africa, Europe, North and Latin America. Meanwhile, the spread of
rural electrification and easy access to radio, television and cable, the wide diffusion of
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CDs, VCRs, and DVDs, have made formidable inroads into the popularity of traditional
genres such as storytelling and proverbs. On the other hand, storytellers are reviving the
art of live narrative, creating new tales based on contemporary experiences, utilizing
older tales and themes, and performing in new settings such as libraries, fairs, and indoor
concerts. For their part, poets, dramatists, and novelists are turning to the language styles
of the speech culture to derive events, tropes, and structures for their contemporary
artistic work.
References
Abrahams, Roger. 1983. The Man-of-Words in the West Indies: Performance and the Emergence of
Creole Culture. Baltimore and London: The Johns Hopkins University Press.
Crowley, Danel. 1954. Form and Style in a Bahamian Folktale. Caribbean Quarterly 3, no. 4:218–
34.
——. 1956. The Midnight Robbers. Caribbean Quarterly 4, nos. 3 and 4:263–74.
Dance, Daryl C. 1985. Folklore from Contemporary Jamaicans. Knoxville: The University of
Tennessee Press.
Edwards, Walter. 1978. Tantalisin and Busin in Guyana. Anthropological Linguistics 20, no.
5:194–213.
Reisman, Karl. 1974. Contrapuntal Conversations in an Antiguan Village. In Explorations in the
Ethnography of Speaking, ed. R.B.A.J.Sherzer. London: Cambridge University Press.
Tanna, Laura. 1984. Jamaican Folk Tales and Oral Histories. Kingston: Institute of Jamaica
Publications.
Warner-Lewis, Maureen. 1994. Yoruba Songs of Trinidad. London: Karnak House.
——. forthcoming. The Oral Tradition in the African Diaspora. In Cambridge History of African
and Caribbean Literature, edited by A.Irele. London and New York: Cambridge University
Press.
MAUREEN WARNER-LEWIS
See also Diaspora; Performance in Africa; Verbal Arts
CARNIVALS AND AFRICAN
AMERICAN CULTURES
In the late twentieth century, carnivals in the Americas are characterized by an organized
procession of costumed participants, music, a limited time span, a beginning and an end,
an organized program of activity, a set of performers, an audience, and a place and
occasion for the performance. National governments, cultural agencies, and private
industry most often are the sponsors of carnival activities and prizes. The timing of
carnival as well as the specific names of each country’s celebrations fluctuate with
national interests and religious heritage. In Trinidad and New Orleans, historically
influenced by French Catholic colonization, carnival is celebrated during the week before
Ash Wednesday. So as not to conflict with other celebrations in the New York
metropolitan area, the parade is held on Labor Day weekend in Brooklyn. In Jamaica and
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the Bahamas, as a result of British colonial calendric festivities, carnival occurs during
the Christmas-New Year holiday. In Santiago de Cuba and Loiza, Puerto Rico, carnival
corresponds with the day honoring Saint Santiago, the patron of those cities, July 26.
African Heritage
The thousands of people who participate in carnival are as varied as the celebrations
themselves. Yet at the core of most of these celebrations is a presence and aesthetic
formed by the African heritage in the Americas. This African heritage is manifested in
different ways. In addition to the obvious continuity of specific masquerading forms and
styles, there is the broad tradition of parading in large groups, comprised of musicians,
masqueraders, and singers. There are also organizational features that demonstrate
African traditions. Some participants have inherited the right to perform, such as
members of Afro-Cuban cabildos (mutual aid/religious societies). Others belong to
neighborhood associations like the black Mardi Gras Indian tribes of New Orleans. Still
others join carnival groups that are open to the public based on a payment of fees, like the
mas (masquerade) bands of Trinidad. Many of these cultural organizations are predicated
on ethnic identity and thus the public display of identity during carnival often counters
and moves toward the nationalization of culture, which most carnivals today represent.
For example, membership in the Cabildo Carabali Isuama of Santiago de Cubas
initially was determined by African nation of origin. Historically, the cabildo functioned
as a condensed monarchy, which exerted authority over the membership and the
community. In Santiago some more famous cabildo members were also freedom fighters
during the Ten Years War and the War of Independence, ending in 1898. In public
performance today, the authority of the cabildo hierarchy is comprehensible to all
members of the society. There is no hidden subtext here; cabildo royalty is authority.
Even though cabildo costumes imitate European courtly dress, rank, and authority are not
being imitated per se, but rather the Afro-Cubans have appropriated a form or style in an
attempt to dominate it. By retaining the regalia of the courtly entourage and performing
in carnival, cabildo members assert their continued presence and perhaps subversive
authority in Cuban society today, for cabildo authority may challenge government
authority. In fact, these carnival performances may provide one means for the survival of
Afro-Cuban heritage in contemporary Cuba. In a parallel carnival tradition, the courtly
entourage in Jamaican Jonkonnu may seem to be an evocation of a superficially British
style, but the underlying aesthetic and performance rules appear to be African-Jamaican,
the result of a complex interwoven history. The form is British, but the assemblage
aesthetic and the dance patterns are profoundly African derived.
Modern Elements
At the other end of the performance spectrum are new elements which are continually
incorporated into carnival performances. In Cuba, it is assumed that carnival will include
floats with dancing women, but in 1989 the crowd was quietly spellbound at 2 A.M.
when fifteen Afro-Cuban boys performed a moonwalk. Both the break dancing and the
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moonwalk were performed by males between the ages of twelve and eighteen. Through
aesthetic competition they were expressing publicly their participation in a broader world
culture of young black youth and their competency in a non-indigenous cultural
expression.
Costumes
Carnivals in the African Americas exhibit an enormous variety of traditions, yet
individual eclecticism fits into a relatively standardized norm for each national carnival
tradition. One of the best ways to understand this twentieth-century hybridity is by a
small case study of carnival costumes. In many cases there are rather strict rules
governing costume design. For instance, in the Bahamas, all costumes are made from cut
and fringed crepe paper molded with wire and pasted onto a cardboard frame. In Trinidad
band leaders and designers meet well in advance of the pre-Lenten celebration to hold
“mas launchings,” when themes and designs are presented. Each band supports a King
and Queen who compete in distinct categories. Trinidad is best known for its King and
Queen costumes which are designed larger and larger in recent years. Poles are attached
to the body to support the costume superstructure. Carnival regulations allow wheels on
the costume base, as long as the performers’ feet and torso are free enough to “dance”
across the Savannah stage during the competitions.
Trinidad Sailors are one of the many traditional characters of “Ole Time Mas” and are
predominantly Afro-Trinidadian. Within the confines of traditional Sailor masques there
is a broad area for experimentation. Costume by costume a good deal of individual
ingenuity is apparent. In 1984 Extra-Terrestrial Voyage included Stray Sailors, Flying
Saucer Sailors, and Launch Pad Columbia spaceship costumes. The 1988 Mystical and
Legendary Voyages of Old Fashioned Sailors included headdresses based on royal
regalia and costume decorations derived from military dress.
Other important Trinidad costumes related to the “Ole Time Mas” tradition include the
African-derived Moco Jumbie, or stilt dancer and the Midnight Robber with his fringed
cowboy-like pants, long-sleeved shirt, decorated cape, dark glasses, and fringed widebrimmed hat or fancy headdress. Another character, the Pierrot, wears a costume
decorated with cloth strips and a heart-shaped breast plate. Although the name is French,
Pierrot is based on a famous Afro-Trinidadian character, the stick fighter. Today the
Pierrot carries a staff in recognition of his former role as the competitive and sometimes
dangerous stick fighter, who is no longer allowed in carnival.
Both the cloth-strip costume and costumes based on the Amerindian model are
ubiquitous in Caribbean festivals. The Amerindian costumed character unites most
Caribbean carnivals and is portrayed by men of African descent. In Trinidad there are
two types of Amerindians: the bare-chested Red Indian who wears a loin cloth and
miscellaneous feathers, and the male or female Fancy Indian whose costume consists of
elaborate variations on a vague Plains Indian model.
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A participant in Brooklyn Carnival,
Labor Day weekend, 1990. A majority
of carnival-players are Trinidadian, or
of Trinidadian descent, and the
costumes are designed in the
Trinidadian Mas style.
Photo © Judith Bettelheim.
Parading in Haiti, in Jamaica, in the Virgin Islands, in the Dominican Republic, in
Bermuda, in the Bahamas, in St. Kitts-Nevis, and especially in Caribbean New Orleans,
the Afro-Amerindian is aggressive, proud, and defiant. After all, there is a lot of unity
between the African American and the Native American, both spiritually and politically.
A specific Indian type originating on Nevis spread to other islands along with emigrant
laborers. Playing Wild Indian, or the Wild Mas Dance, in Nevis has been popular since
the turn of the twentieth century and their prototypical Amerindian costume consists of
fringed pants, short skirtlike aprons, long-sleeved tops, and tall peacock-feathered
headdresses. The circular headdress is made from cardboard covered with tissue paper
and mirrors, and surmounted by tall, upright feathers. All band members dress this way,
African folklore
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and the costumes worn by Bermuda Gombey bands and the Dominican Republic
Masquerade (or cocola) bands are identical versions of the Nevis Afro-Amerindian.
In Jamaica the Amerindian costumed character is part of a Roots-style Afro-Jonkonnu
band. The Jonkonnu street festival is characterized by an entourage of wire screen
masked and costumed male dancers, performing mimed variations on an established
repertoire of dance steps. Roots Jonkonnu includes not only the Amerindian, but the
Cowhead, Horsehead, Pitchy Patchy (the cloth-strip costume), Devil, and Warrior. Roots
bands encapsulate a “Fierce” aesthetic, rural and aggressive. Fancy Dress bands
Junkanoo Festival, Nassau, Bahamas,
1960s. All Bahamian costumes are
made from cut and sheared colored
paper. Photo reprinted courtesy of the
Bahamas Tourist Association.
demonstrate strong European influence, but in their imitation of courtly costumes they
incorporate a strong Afro-Caribbean aesthetic flavor, a true “Creolization.” Their
costumes are characterized by wildly colored prints juxtaposed with strips or checks.
Each character wears the courtly attire appropriate to her/his rank: King, Queen, Flower
Girl (Princess), and Courtier.
Cuban carnival includes some uniquely marvelous costume types. Carnival in
Santiago is regarded by Cubans as the most “Cuban” of all celebrations, after all Santiago
is on the Caribbean side of the island and has the largest Afro-Cuban population. Three
types of carnival groups, the conga, the comparsa, and the paseo, are distinguished by
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their music and costumes. The conga, led by the corneta china (a double-reed horn),
consists of a small group of musicians playing drums and metal percussion instruments.
Accompanied by neighborhood residents who may act out a narrative in period
costume—such as the 1989 performance of Columbus’s landing—the conga musicians
wear matching pants and shirts, and perhaps a special cap. In the 1989 carnival, the
Conga Los Hoyos wore gold lame baseball caps. Individual conga dancers can be dressed
according to group preference. They may perform as ninja dancers, clowns, feather men,
or cigar smoking old wise men.
Comparsas are distinguished by choreographed paired dancers and the famous
Santiago bands of caperos, men who wear elaborately decorated capes and hats. Caperos
run in an undulating line while forming intricate figure-eight patterns. Each comparsa
capero group is distinguished by a special style of cape with painted scenes outlined in
sequins. The comparsa dancers’ costumes are determined by the danced theme, be it a
Mexican “hat dance,” or a tribute to Hungarian folk culture, or a Cuban version of a
Jamaican Rastafarian dance. These are danced narratives in costume.
The newest type of Cuban carnival group is the paseo. Larger and more elaborately
choreographed than other groups, the paseo seems to have more flexibility in its
costuming and routines. Paseos boast between 300 and 1,000 male and female costumed
dancers. Some may perform tributes to the orichas (gods) of the Yoruba-derived Santeria
religion, each wearing a costume specific to the oricha’s own colors: blue and white for
Yemaya; red and white for Change; black and red for Elegua, etc. Often the paseo also
incorporates Tropicana-style nightclub routines with scantily clad sequined dancers.
There is an enormous variety in carnival costumes. The list goes on: Haitian Rara
bands with their sequined capes and baton-twirling drum majors, Santo Domingo horned
diablos (devils), Puerto Rican caballeros (horsemen) and vejigantes (large-headed
figures), and Belizian John Canoe dancers. Many carnivals in the North American cities
of Toronto, Brooklyn (New York), and San Francisco, for example, are the result of
Caribbean migrations and these celebrations are as hybrid as their populations. Yet at the
core of the carnival are reflections of the African heritage in the Americas. In San
Francisco, the largest carnival groups are costumed in homage to Brazilian or Trinidadian
groups. In Brooklyn, Trinidadian-style bands and Haitian-style Rara bands parade
together. All these carnivals are linked by a common heritage produced by European
colonialism and African-derived cultural forces. No matter how innovative new carnival
performances may be, the African heritage in the Americas continues to underscore many
traditions.
References
Bettelheim, Judith, ed. 2000. Cuban Festivals: A Century of Celebration. Kingston, Jamaica: Ian
Randle Publishers.
Hill, Errol. 1972. The Trinidad Carnival: Mandate for a National Theatre. Austin and London:
University of Texas Press.
Kinser, Samuel. 1990. Carnival American Style: Mardi Gras at New Orleans and Mobile. Chicago
and London: The University of Chicago Press.
Nicholas, Robert W. 1998. Old-Time Masquerading in the U.S. Virgin Islands. St. Thomas: The
Virgin Islands Humanities Council.
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Nunley, John, and Judith Bettelheim. 1988. Caribbean Festival Arts. Seattle and London:
University of Washington Press.
Plantation Society in the Americas—Carnival in Perspective. 1990. New York: Athens Printing
Company.
Riggio, Milla, ed. 1998. “Trinidad and Tobago Carnival,” TDR: The Drama Review, 42, no.
3:(T159).
JUDITH BETTELHEIM
See also Caribbean Verbal Arts; Masks and Masquerades
CARTOONS
In Africa, as elsewhere, cartoons are driven primarily by the political and socioeconomic
environment. The principles that sustain their creation and enjoyment—exaggeration,
robust witticism and humor, and the simple and effective mode of graphic presentation—
are the same in Africa as they are in other parts of the world. Cartooning in Africa is a
relatively recent phenomenon. Its development was a predictable component of the print
media that missionaries set up in the second half of the nineteenthth century as part of
their proselytizing agenda.
Two examples serve to illustrate this pattern. In 1859 a weekly newspaper, Iwe Irohin,
was established in Abeokuta, southwestern Nigeria. In 1883, the Christian community in
Ghana successfully established the Presbyterian Press. As a result of educational,
economic, cultural, and political factors, media organizations in colonial Africa had a
fledgling and remarkably difficult beginning. In colonial and postcolonial Africa,
newspapers were established by various interest groups: inspired African nationalists and
political activists; expatriate entrepreneurs; and newly independent nation-states desirous
of projecting the voice and views of government. But sustaining the print media in Africa
where a low literacy rate combines with other operational difficulties remains a daunting
mission. Literacy, cultural, and economic predicaments translate to a high mortality rate
for print media in Africa. The current media efflorescence in many parts of Africa is a
phenomenon that became noticeable only in the last two decades of the twentieth century.
Although in pre-independent Africa, there were a few newspapers like Nigeria’s West
African Pilot that bravely employed cartoons to advance anticolonial views and lambaste
political lackeys, cartoons produced by African cartoonists did not become a regular
staple of the print media until the third-quarter of the twentieth century.
Range and Diversity
In the twenty-first century, a variety of comic books, some in African languages, appear
on the market, their subject matter extracted from the cultural milieu of their intended
readerships. Two examples, both of them comic books extolling African folktales,
demonstrate the versatility of African cartoonists in adapting the medium to suit their
specific objectives. Abunuwasi, a thirty-two-page comic book written in Swahili and
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published in 1996 by Gado, the Kenya-based Tanzanian artist whose real name is
Godfrey Mwampembwa, plumbs African fables and comes up with the exploits of Abu
Nuwasi, a popular, clever trickster character in Swahili folktales. Gado, an awardwinning editorial cartoonist for the Kenyan Daily Nation, is one of Africa’s most
spectacular manipulators of the medium. In terms of adaptation and mastery of
techniques, both verbal and visual, Gado, whose work has been exhibited locally and
internationally, combines elements from his African traditions with modernist
inclinations.
The other cartoonist whose work is equally remarkable is the Nigerian Dokun Abioye
who, in 1992, published the first edition of his monthly comic book, Folktales. He
ascribed his inspiration for the project to his uncle, whose knowledge of Yoruba folktales
left a strong impression on the cartoonist during his adolescent years. Written in English,
the tale is centered on the exploits of the tortoise: a wily, beguiling animal who, in spite
of the physical limitations, is often portrayed as the smartest animal in the wilderness.
The tortoise usually outwits humans. But, on occasions, his cleverness also creates its
own impediments. In Abioye’s 1992 edition, the tortoise commits a social transgression
and the Oba (ruler) sends him on an impossible task: to bring the flower of wisdom from
the other world. In the end, he outwits two villages and the ruler who had sent him on the
initial errand. The way Abioye’s animal characters were created and the ease and deftness
with which he handled the visual language radiate dazzling brilliance uncommon among
cartoonists. Unfortunately, Abioye died before his project could fully take off.
Gado and Abioye share one passion: using cartoons to instill morals in the citizenry.
Using folktales and creating enchanting characters that animate popular fables, Gado and
Abioye are able to inspire and empower their readers, while drawing attention to the
morals in each episode. For every published Gado and Abioye, dozens of other comic
books exist in Africa. Political cartoons differ from comic books in terms of subject
matter, audience, and intent. Comic books can afford to be heroic, moralistic,
inspirational, entertaining, or didactic. Political cartoons, on the other hand, are driven by
the immediacy of topic, and the frugality with which darts are shot at political actors. The
emphasis is often not on aesthetic elegance, but the message conveyed by the medium.
Political Cartooning
Political cartoonists in Africa strike a delicate balance; they are easy targets for intolerant
political leaders or overzealous security agents. In countries where the rule of law is
observed more on paper than in practice, where lifelong presidencies are not rare and
some rulers often act as if the state was their personal estate, political cartoonists run the
risk of being placed under state surveillance should they become so foolhardy as to think
that “press freedom” applies to individuals. Cartoons convey different meanings to
different audiences. To the overwhelmed editor who is concerned with steering his
establishment clear of any litigation, political cartoons are libelous until proven
otherwise. This is why self-censorship is normative in many newspaper organizations.
Unlike scripts that can be edited easily, cartoons require the cooperation of the cartoonist
should the need for editing arise. To the underprivileged and the downtrodden, political
cartoons are effective where government inadequacies are parodied and politicians
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satirized. But most aggrieved politicians, in spite of a tendency to feign altruism, harbor
residual resentment for political cartoonists, whom they would rather run out of town. To
the brash, bigoted military dictator, political cartoons, especially those that express
divergent views, are unquestionably subversive. Editorial cartoonists are quick to realize
the precariousness of their situation. They recognize that their relationship with the
government is like the proverbial chicken perched on a line: Neither the chicken nor the
line will be at ease.
Text, Context, and Sources
The context within which African cartoonists operate is a major contributory factor to the
form and substance of their cartoons. Cartoonists employ various stylistic devices to
present their gags. Some thrive on narratives while others are reticent, employing
economy of visual and textual power. Some cartoonists revel in septic humor: a mixture
of raunchy social jokes and tantalizing gender-oriented insinuations. Other cartoons
derive their power from sheer intellectual elegance, a robust play on text that challenges
the readers to look beneath the facade in unraveling the conundrum. In almost all
instances, the format of a cartoon is dictated by its message.
In one single-panel cartoon published in the May/June 1994 edition of Africaman by
the London-based Nigerian cartoonist, Bisi Ogunbadejo, five schoolgirls are presented.
One of them throws a challenge to another: “Come on then, say it—are you a virgin?” To
which the other student replies, “Not yet.” In yet another cartoon that Ogunbadejo once
did for The Guardian, a Lagos-based newspaper, a student comes home and tells his
father that he skipped school because he had an accident: he fell into the river. When his
father points out that his school uniform is not wet, the boy replies that he took them off
before he fell into the river.
Subjects vary: from spousal banters to office romance, traffic humor to epileptic
public utilities. In a single-panel cartoon published in the Herald of Zimbabwe, a man and
a woman are seen walking down the street. A sign displayed in the foreground reads: “20
months for stealing skirt to please woman.” The clearly disturbed man can be “heard”
commenting on the situation: “Now, whilst he’s in jail somebody else will steal the
woman’s heart.” Although the mode in which cartoons are presented is equally important,
cartoons stand the chance of becoming bland and trite, mere illustrations, where there is
no punch line, either visually or verbally. Indeed, the verbal domain is an important
fountain for the generation of ideas that are translated into two-dimensional images in the
hand of a competent cartoonist. African cartoonists feast on verbal puns that they pick up
on regular basis: at the bust stop, at social events, at political rallies, during casual
discussions in public vehicles, at the beach, or at the drawing table. Political cartoonists
in Africa are swamped by a cascade of ideas issuing almost interminably from political
actors. In a continent where, at least from the perspective of the political cartoonist, a
sizeable number of rulers, civilian but especially military, appear to be intellectually
challenged, political gaffes seem to tumble from the mouth of politicians by the hour.
Perhaps the best-known example in this regard is that of a general who, in the 1970s,
terrorized his country and regaled the international community with equal brutality and
buffoonery. His name: Idi Amin Dada, the larger-than-life field marshal of Uganda. Idi
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Amin’s reign has been immortalized through his brutality and the creative imagination of
humorists. In the thick political air that enveloped Nigeria during the infamous regimes of
military dictators, published cartoons, beer parlor jokes and bus stop snickers became an
essential commodity that and lifted the spirit of many Nigerians. From 1984, when
Generals Buhari and Idiagbon sacked the civilian administration of Shagari in Nigeria, to
1998, when General Abacha’s sudden death brought relief to Nigerians, cartoonists
developed the art of double-speak and managed to avoid imprisonment.
In considering humor and satire, particularly in the media, the cartoonist is aware of
the tremendous leverage that he or she has in regard to the subject at hand. In most
instances, the point is not about truth or objectivity. That, from the perspective of the
cartoonist, belongs to the editorial department, or to the newsroom. Just as cartoonists
have drawn from oral traditions, folk tales, gossips and rumors, they also draw from
social and political innuendoes. Through the manipulation of images, the inversion of text
and the subversion of meanings among other tricks, the cartoonists in the print media
have come to understand that in getting the message across, truth may, and often is,
sacrificed. But in this vein, they succeeded in questioning the truth. Indeed, the closest
thing to truth as far as cartoonists are concerned is perception. Cartoonists who function
within an environment where cajolement, subtle intimidation, or blatant exercise of
power are normative and recourse to civil discourse is discouraged or even prohibited, are
at liberty to employ any sleight of the hand tricks. The primary goal of cartoonists is to
communicate with their audience, to entertain them to the best of their ability, while
employing all manner of tricks that will facilitate the achievement of this objective. This
calls for restraint and freedom, creativity and responsibility. Editorial cartoonists function
in a pressure zone as a result of the constraints and limitations that their medium imposes
on them. There is the constraint of space. Regular editorial cartoonists who work in
newspaper organizations where there is commitment to daily cartoons, usually in the OpEd pages, are constantly on the edge as they strive to produce pungent cartoons that
respond to ongoing developments in the political arena.
Cartoonists and Their Tricks
Nigerian cartoonists could not have wished for better supply of material during General
Abacha’s tenure as self-appointed president. In cartoon after cartoon, they poured ridicule
on Abacha, couching their venom in a variety of guises that at once flatter and scathe.
The print media in Nigeria found ways to satirize Abacha during the years that he
terrorized the nation. In the Punch newspaper, Kaycee and Ebong are two of the
cartoonists whose cartoons graphically said what many Nigerians knew but dared not say.
In “Once Upon a Time”, Kaycee shows the usurpation of power and the emasculation of
justice. Moses Ebong depicts the gluttonousness of the military in his cartoon, “The Note
We Missed”. By imposing Abacha’s portrait on the Nigerian currency, and by depicting
two sensuous ladies on the watermark, the brutality of Abacha’s regime and the
personalization of the nation’s wealth are encoded. The travesty that Abacha’s regime
signified in the history of Nigeria is fully underscored with the dialogue, framed with the
text, “I Love Viagra,” an obvious reference to the manner in which the general was said
to have died. Kaycee and Ebong are from the Punch, the newspaper that almost single-
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handedly popularized cartoons in Nigeria in the 1970s. Despite the severe limitations that
many African media houses contend with, cartooning continues to flourish on the
continent. Nigeria has perhaps the largest number of cartoonists in Africa although,
unlike in Kenya, Nigerian cartoonists do not have an association. After the epic of Lash
(Akinola Lasekan), the country’s first cartoonist who worked for the West African Pilot
from 1939 until the first military coup d’etat in 1966, a new group of cartoonists—Oke
Hortons, Ore Gab Okpao, Ayo Ajayi, Josy Ajiboye, Cliff Ogiugo, Kenny Adamson, and
dele jegede among others, emerged. Today, cartoonists are considered as a critical core of
the print media personnel. A similar situation exists on the East African coast. In Kenya
alone, there are about fifteen editorial cartoonists working for the five dailies and about
seven weeklies. The number of cartoonists in Uganda is about the same while, in
Tanzania, the number jumps to more than twenty. On the East African coast, according to
Gado, there is an association of cartoonists, called Katuni that caters to the interests of its
members through workshops, seminars and exhibits. Some of these cartoonists—Gado
(Godfrey Mwampembwa), Madd (Paul Kelemba), Fran (Fran Odoi), Stano (Stanislous
Olonde), Kingo (James Gayo) and Kham (James Kamawira)—represent the first
generation of cartoonists in a new dispensation that offers them the advantage of shaping
the future.
A rich example of the range of these cartoonists can be seen in Kenya’s Daily Nation
in which cartoonists inveigh against numerous local, national and international issues.
Most frequently visited themes concern the role of the World Bank (WB) and the
International Monetary Fund (IMF), often considered inimical to national pride and
economic development. In one poetically pungent example published in the Daily Nation
(January 3, 2000, 6), the WB and IMF, personified by a white benefactor with a gushing
moustache and what appears to be a demonic smile, dispenses the organizations’ largesse
to an African government, represented by a hand in tattered suit holding a pan. But a
second look at the cartoon, which has not a single word, reveals the pathetic poignancy of
the situation. The pan is perforated.
But it is to Gado that one returns for the creation of some of the most graphically
refreshing and visually stimulating pieces. Still on the same topic (IMF), Gado chooses to
play on words. The Kenyan nation, apparently delusional about its physical (and fiscal)
wellness, is portrayed as a machismo, an athletically buoyant “Mr. Kenya”. Of course, a
glance at this image shows a wimpy, effeminate man in a pathetic show of muscle flexing
before a bemused white man, IMF, whose responsibility it is to emphasize the havoc that
has been wreaked through an apparent communication problem: “Wow, wow! I said I’m
coming to see your fiscal progress not physical progress!!” Elsewhere, in Zimbabwe, the
presence of the IMF is also regularly invoked in cartoons. The Herald in its April 16,
1999, edition carried a cartoon by I, Mpofu which, in a few lines, portrays an embattled
the Zimbabwean president Robert Mugabe attempting to scale a hurdle that is comprised
of land distribution, new constitution, and IMF. But the right to speak truth to power is
not native to Zimbabwe, and Gado proves this in one of his sterling cartoons in the Daily
Nation (February 12, 2000). In it, a grim-looking Mugabe metamorphoses into a gas
pump: an empty one! Gado’s cartoons exemplify the visual-verbal technique that
oscillates between (re) presentation, unsparing critique and transformation. As with many
others, this cartoon is rich in symbolism. In a way that recalls the employment of social
hierarchy, Mugabe looms large as a fuel pump. But what is the essence of a gargantuan
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dispenser that contains nothing? Is Gado implying that to Zimbabwe, the stupefied man at
the pump, the credibility of Mugabe, rather than fuel, constitutes the real crisis? Is
Mugabe thus the proverbial empty barrel that makes the most noise? But you ask: does
Mugabe hear the yearnings of his subjects? Does he even care?
Effect on Population
In conclusion, cartoons offer perhaps the most solid index by which the success and
relevance of popular art in Africa may be measured. Because they have an unmatchable
capacity to transcend barriers and boundaries—racial, social, educational, political, and
aesthetic among many others—cartoons encapsulate the two radically oppositional
principles of force and innocuousness. They are at once formidable and dispensable:
provoking as they cajole; entertaining as they castigate. The cartoonist in Africa straddles
the two worlds of then and now, of the traditional and the modern, the ruler and the ruled.
As in many other departments of visual culture, the African cartoonist has imbued this
genre with a uniquely African flavor without which it will become yet another lackluster,
highbrow idiom.
DELE JEGEDE
See also Electronic Media and Oral Traditions; Oratory; Popular Culture
CENTRAL AFRICAN FOLKLORE:
OVERVIEW
The oral literature of the diverse ethnic groups established in Central Africa is well
documented. European, Gabonese, and Congolese professional anthropologists and
linguists author some of the most comprehensive studies, although numerous
missionaries and colonial officers with extensive and sympathetic experiences among
particular ethnic groups also provide first-rate accounts, at least in part, of the literary
output of Central Africa. Much of this rich literary creativity and patrimony is unknown
to the world at large, however, because of language barriers (for example, significant
works have been published in Flemish, French, and Portuguese), and the limited
availability of key sources. What follows is a guide to some of the formal types and
organizing concepts of the oral literature of the Bantu-speaking peoples of Central Africa;
specific references for further examination are offered, in the absence of major syntheses
and comparative studies.
Bantu-speaking peoples constitute the principal population of the vast Central African
region. Additionally, in northern Congo, the Central African Republic and southern
Sudan, ethnic groups like the Zande, Nzakara, Gbaya, Ngbaka, and Ngbandi belong to
non-Bantu linguistic stock, some of whose literature is well studied. The region is also
sparsely populated by various Pygmy and archaic Pygmy-related or Pygmy-influenced
groups. Their hunting and gathering activities, their mysterious forest experiences, and
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their folklore expressed in orally transmitted traditions and texts have left a lasting
imprint on Bantu institutions and ideology in Central Africa. Very little is known about
the literature of these Pygmy groups.
The widespread recurrence of certain genres and types of literature, of particular
characters acting and interacting in specific situations, the contextual settings in which
the orally transmitted texts operate, and their functions and meanings are all suggestive of
fundamental formal, functional and semantic similarities within an extraordinary
framework of individual, local, and ethnic creativity and diversity. Essential to the
establishment of these fundamentals are ethnic classifications of oral literature and,
concomitantly, their form of expression, their content and ideas, their basic purpose,
function and sociopolitical, and ritual context. Unfortunately, few complete ethnic studies
of oral texts exist in the scientific literature for comparison and classification. One such
example however, for the Nyanga, a Bantu people of the eastern Congo rain forest,
provides a useful point of reference for a general overview of different genres of literary
expression.
The Different Forms of Orally Transmitted Texts
Several major categories of orally transmitted text are explicitly recognized by the
Nyanga people. These different genres are respectively called karisi, uano, mushumo,
inondo, mubikiriro, ihamuriro, mushenjo, and rwimbo. Other stylized forms of
expression among the Nyanga are referred to as nganuriro, mwanikiro, kishambaro, and
ihano.
The karisi category of texts includes long, sung and recited epic narratives that center
on the feats of an anthropomorphic hero. The miraculously born Nyanga hero, called
Mwindo, is similar in character and action to protagonists in poetically structured epic
narratives among the Lega (Kiguma, Wabugila, Museme, Mubila, etc.), the Mongo of
west-central Congo (Lianja), the Tetela and Mbole of east-central Congo (Lofokefoke),
the Dwala (Djeki-la-Njambe) of southern Cameroon, the Fang and other populations in
Gabon and Congo. Since the late twentieth century, these fascinating, complex texts were
sung and recited on various secular occasions for a general audience although study
suggests that, among some populations at earlier times, these texts were intimately linked
with the Pygmies from Gabon and Congo and performed only on special politico-ritual
occasions. The performance of epics can be viewed as multimedia events in which
numerous other forms of artistic expression mingle with everyday gestures: it involves
dancing, singing, chanting, costuming (among the Mongo, for example, the bard wears
Lianja’s paraphernalia and acts out his deeds), playing musical instruments, mimicry,
screaming, praise giving, gift giving, and food and beverage distributions. In contrast to
tales, epics are distinguished by the large number of actors (human, animal, supernatural,
fictive creations) interacting in various situations with the central hero, the atmosphere of
grandiose and exceptional events, the rhythmic flow of the narrative, the cataloguelike
enumerations and the rich vocabulary. These epics are not just extremely important
poetic creations characterized by the wealth of their oral expression, loftiness of tone,
recurring stylistic devises (formulaic expressions, repetitions, onomatopoeia, prosodic
rules), but also serve as extraordinarily revealing and authentic insider documents on the
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cultures of these diverse populations. Epics like Mwindo and Lianja shed light on
material culture, technology, sociopolitical organization, religious belief and practice,
cosmology and value systems of the Nyanga and Mongo peoples. Although centering on
the fictive feats achieved by a heroic personage, the epics directly or indirectly contain
historical references, making overt and cryptic statements about migrations, encounters
with diverse peoples, feuds and warfare, and changing institutions and values.
In addition to the heroic epics, there also exist sophisticated accounts of large-scale
clan and ethnic migrations (classified by the Bembe as mse’eleco), of encounters between
populations, of the emergence of royal dynasties and the achievements of succeeding
generations of chiefs, as they occur among the Kuba, Luba, Lunda and Cokwe. These
texts can be identified as “historical epics,” albeit embellished by fictional events and
lacking the stylistic grandeur of the heroic recitations.
The individuals who perform these epics are not professional itinerant bards, nor do
they hold any special status, clan or caste affiliation, as they do in other regions of Africa.
They are simple farmers, hunters and/or craftsmen who learned the craft from a close
kinsman (father, grandfather, maternal uncle, or in-law) or a friend with whom they had
established a blood brotherhood pact. The reasons why they learned are not merely
conditioned by personal preferences and aptitudes. Some, like the Mongo bards, maintain
their calling was inspired in a dream. Nyanga bards also refer to some sickness that was
caused by the spirit of Karisi. These bards are well known and admired in the areas where
they live, and cared for lavishly when they perform. In some regions, such as the Lega,
female bards are acceptable. In all cases, these bards are exceptionally gifted individuals.
Among the populations where the epics flourish in Central Africa, the bards are few;
however, numerous persons who are avid listeners of the epics love to tell episodes,
fragments and abstracts about the patterned lives of heroic figures. Among the Nyanga,
for example, these heroic tales are much longer and less frequent than any other tale
types, and they are similar to their epic counterparts in both style and content. In fact,
these tales sometimes expand on heroic feats, situations, and events in which known
heroes are involved. Do these heroic tales predate the epics per se? Were some epics
developed by gifted narrators who assembled and synthesized a number of tales revolving
around a particular heroic being? The questions remain open.
The second Nyanga oral category called uano includes innumerable folktales whose
major characters are animals, anthropomorphized animals, and humans in diverse roles,
abstract characters and/or divinities, specters, monsters, and ogres. Frequently, in these
types of tales there occurs an extraordinary mix of human, animal and supernatural actors
all performing in a distinctly human setting (the village, the hunting camp, the fields) and
engaging in the most diverse human activities (gathering, hunting, fishing, cultivating,
courtship, marriage, friendship pacts, judicial procedures, rituals, and cults). In many
Bantu societies, cycles of tales revolve around particular animal characters like nteta,
kabuluku, and mboloko (terms for dwarf antelopes) among the Nyanga, Luba and Tetela:
kabundi (a mixture of squirrel and marten) of the western Luba or chameleon (kou), turtle
(nkulu) and spider (sangba ture) among different populations. Some of the central
characters in these epiclike tale cycles are trickster-heroes. The tales cover an incredible
range of topics that are social, political, religious and/or philosophical in nature, but
invariably have a strong bearing on the system of values, etiquette, savoir-faire, general
behavior, social organization, kinship, and marriage. One frequent type of tale treats the
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situation of a father or mother willing to marry their daughter only to a person able to
perform a prescribed, seemingly impossible, task. Invariably this task leads to the failure
of many suitors and culminates in the ultimate success of a weak and supposedly
insignificant actor. The folktales, commonly known to most male and female individuals
in a given society, certainly function as elements of entertainment and communal
interaction. They also provide deeper moral and philosophical lessons and often contain
many etiological, didactic, and explanatory elements. Interesting examples are the
dilemma tales found among the Mongo and other peoples. These tales expose a problem,
develop it, and end on a question that generates a debate among members of the
audience. The tales and ensuing deliberations often point to the ambiguities and
paradoxes that govern social relations. Since folktales allow for improvisation and are
told by many individuals having diverse backgrounds, personal experiences, and
narrative skills, variations in style, content, length, and detail are the norm. Frequently,
oral performance lends a special flavor to these tales, even to those that appear rather dull
and uninspired in writing. Audience participation and the narrator’s skill in mimicry,
gestural emphasis, voice and sound imitation, intonation, and singing add a dimension
that is lost in most publications.
The third Nyanga category of texts, mushumo, covers a large range of succinct
aphoristic or sententious statements that are identified in Western literature as proverbs or
maxims. This genre of universal occurrence is the least studied and the most difficult to
interpret because of its inherent conciseness, the complexity of its symbolic references
and its reflection of the deepest societal assumptions and values. In some areas, the
structure of these proverbs closely follows a stylistic and prosodic pattern so that most of
what are labeled as songs are simple proverbial statements or concatenations of these
aphorisms. Recitation of proverbs occurs in many different situational contexts like
teaching, general discussions and judicial procedures in the men’s meeting-houses, and in
prescribed or optional initiations, which are linked with life cycle or membership in
voluntary associations. Some of the finest aphorisms, demanding specialized exegesis by
preceptors and other experts and linked with high-level initiations, stand out from the
bulk of proverbs not by their wording or overt meaning. Instead, these aphorisms evoke
something of a higher intellectual order by covert references, statements and their
multivocal interpretations. Thus, the aphorisms used in the bwami initiations of the
Bembe and Lega, and the bukota and lilwa initiations of the Mitoko and Mbole, are
known as bitondo by a kisi, literally “words of the land,” expressing the deepest
economic, social, political, religious, moral and philosophical values of a people. Because
they concentrate a maximum of meaning in a minimum of words, proverbs are also
powerful rhetorical devices used in solving difficult family issues and judicial cases.
Closely related to proverbs are two other types of concise formulations. Among the
Nyanga, the principal examples are riddles (inondo). These stereotyped, frequently
epigrammatic, expressions occur at dances, riddling sessions, and gatherings, usually of
women and adolescents. Riddles focus on pleasure, communal interaction and
entertainment, but they are also pedagogical tools teaching the youth about the world
around them. The other form occurs in populations like the Lega, the Tetela and ethnic
groups along the Congo River, where slit-drums and other musical instruments transmit
messages to distant persons and villages. Intricate periphrastic expressions underlie this
system of sonorous communication. Called lukumbu by the Lega, these stereotyped
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formulae, which may occur in concatenations, are proverblike statements that are concise
and impossible to interpret out of context. Among the Lega, all men receive their own
drum-name when reaching social adulthood. Since the number of such periphrastic
expressions is limited, the drumnames of one’s father, even one’s grandfather, are
frequently added. For women there exists only a single standard formula that is
differentiated by the addition of the father’s or husband’s drum names. Animals (e.g.,
eagle, pangolin, elephant), activities (e.g., hunt) and other events of vital importance
(e.g., death) are also the subject of periphrastic name giving.
Praise prose and poetry (the musenjo category among the Nyanga) are prevalent in
societies having centralized political systems like the Shi and Hunde of eastern Congo. In
Rwanda and Burundi, these elaborate, poetic, and repetitive praises entail much
improvisation and address not just kings and chiefs but even highly prized cattle. The
kasàlà of the western Luba are also a form of panegyrics often of clan groups. They
feature lofty, sometimes even hyperbolic, imagery.
Divination, healing, oath-taking systems, cults, and blood-brotherhood pacts are
widespread throughout Central Africa. These institutions are crucial to the activities of
the society and feature specialized texts, sung and/or recited. The texts include
standardized, sometimes rigidly formulated, invocations and prayers (the mubikiriro
category among the Nyanga), exhortations, imprecations, incantations, and spells
(ihamuriro among the Nyanga). These difficult, formulaic genres, well documented for
the Kongo, Yaka, Songye, Mongo, are often ignored in discussions of African oral
literature.
Many of the preceding texts are sung, if only in part. Nevertheless it is necessary to
distinguish a category of songs per se (the nyimbo category among the Nyanga) that
involve special, often heavily improvised, texts and are appropriately produced only on
special occasions. First, these song texts relate to the celebration of events in the life
cycle of individuals and families, like the births of children in general and those of twins
in particular. Other examples comprise lullabies, matrimonial and mortuary songs,
hypocoristic and love songs, dirges, elegies, and lamentations. The Nyanga and others
sometimes talk about “day songs” and “night songs,” referring to joyful performances of
song at these times involving young people. These are songs of few words with largely
improvised short texts that include personal reflections, remembrances, and succinct
anecdotes.
The sung texts that accompany masked dances in areas like the Pende deserve special
attention. There, a parade of masks engage in elaborate performances, which in their
totality of text, music, gesture, dance, costume, and paraphernalia, constitute a
pantomime or character drama involving fun, mockery, critique, praise, authority, awe,
and “terror religiosus.”
Among the Nyanga (who developed specialized terminology around these forms of
speech), other forms of standardized discourse exist that probably could not be classified
as literary, although the population concerned considers them distinct from ordinary
verbal communication. An example is what the Nyanga call nganuriro, literally “true
stories”: men tend to sit together in the men’s house to listen to accounts of what
happened, what was seen, experienced, or achieved after hunting or trapping, or after a
visit to a remote place. Recounting dreams also falls in this category. The style in which
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these events are narrated is generally concise, sometimes hyperbolic and unconstrained.
The mood is facetious or melodramatic. Reality and fiction are intimately intermingled.
The Performance Context
The settings, the occasions, and the composition of the audience differ from case to case
and from genre to genre. Familiar settings for oral performances of diverse type are the
family home and compound, the men’s meeting house, the smithy, the central village
plaza or dance floor, or the hunting or fishing camp. More specialized settings are the
men’s or women’s initiation houses, cult houses, the lodges where men and/or women of
a certain status gather, the sites of enthronement of chiefs and other status holders, or the
shacks or special enclosures where maskers dress or expert healers and diviners discharge
their functions. The performances may be allowed any time of the day, others are strictly
prescribed to be sung or narrated either during the day or in the evening and at night.
Many texts are performed as part of the daily routine of living; others are reserved for
special occasions and particular events. In these and many other situations the participant
audience varies greatly, from the general public to privileged listeners-participants. The
composition of the audience may be determined by gender, age-sets and age grades, cult
affiliations, political and ritual statuses, and levels of initiatory experience.
Concomitantly, the frequency with which texts are produced, the degree of exclusivity
and secrecy of the oral performances, and the levels of meaning associated with the texts
vary greatly.
In one way or another, the presentation of oral texts almost always involves a
combination of actions that imply many constitutive elements and possible variations.
Group participation is one of these elements. Texts are produced in a milieu of listeners
who become active participants as apprentices, initiates, clients, patients, and even as part
of the broader audience. The interaction between the narrator-singer and the persons
present takes many forms, from encouragements formulated as simple ejectives,
exclamations, and handclapping to praises, repetitions, questions, and comments on the
narrated text. On numerous occasions one or more persons in the audience are intimately
involved with the narrator-singer as apprentices. The apprenticeship may be formal, as is
the case for the performances of epics, where one or more persons may sit closely to the
bard and, depending on the degree of knowledge already acquired, may help him out
when his memory fails or encourage him with stereotyped exclamations. The
apprenticeship status may be less obvious when a young person—a narrator’s favorite
companion (a child or grandchild, a nephew)—simply acts as an attentive and responsive
listener.
The Interrelation of the Arts
Music, as singing or handclapping, invariably accompanies oral performances. Epics,
typically sung in their entirety, feature support from special musical instruments like
harps, rattles, or percussive sticks; the music sustains the harmonious flow of the
narrative and forms a continuum when the bard hesitates for words. Parts or entire tales
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may be sung, supported by choruslike responses from their audience; when mainly
narrated or recited the tales can be interspersed with song to create dialogues of response
from the listeners. Aphorisms sung by soloists and choruses during initiations are
accompanied by drums, rattles, harps, zithers, and xylophones. The musicians do not
merely sustain the rhythmic flow of the words and of the corresponding dances but also
intersperse the performance with drum beats that contain praises for the excellence of
individual dancers or singers. An especially intriguing case is found in certain ultrasecret
rites where aphoristic and periphrastic texts are not spoken but suggested, reproduced as
“songs without words” on mirlitons (rattles), slit-drums, horns, or whistles. As with the
drum communications discussed above, this language of suggestiveness works
particularly well because the tonal character of Bantu languages allows for the
reproduction of units of sound that have semantic import.
The display of visual art, like sculpture or decorative design, is virtually inconceivable
without its intensive association with texts of different types. These texts can either
explain the essence of the exhibited patterns in symbolic ways or convey explana-tions
on their use and function. This intimate link between text and object escapes us in most
cases: texts have typically been recorded for their own sake, and art examined without
sufficient knowledge of the languages in which the pertinent texts occur. Sadly, the art
may simply have been collected without any knowledge of the relevant texts or texts may
have been added ex posteriori, at best by guessing. Every nkisi power figurine among the
Kongo or Songye peoples, for example, has its own set of praise and exhortative
formulae, its own invocations, eulogies, incantations, and imprecations. Each Pende mask
has its own songs; every pot lid among the Woyo is a sculptural condensation of one or
more proverbs and/or riddles. Wooden or ivory anthropomorphic figurines among the
Lega and Bembe people are intimately linked with aphorisms that imbue them with a
range of meaning. The aphorisms explain the sculptures in context, but they also serve as
sources of inspiration for the artists. Groups of masks among the Lega have their own
sets of identifying and explanatory texts all key to their use and function. Decorative
designs engraved, incised, or painted on art objects (masks, figurines, staffs, etc.), painted
on the body, on panels, lintels or house walls, or drawn in the sand are not just associated
with special terminologies. Here context is key. Explanations occur, particularly for
initiations and cults, in specialized settings with elaborate standardized texts and
aphoristic statements. Sophisticated examples of this are found in the decorative designs
on Cokwe drums and in sand drawings among the same people, in body paintings among
the Pende, Bembe and Tetela, and on houses among the Mangbetu.
Gesture, facial expression, rhythmic movement, and dance, as well as pitch and
distortion of voice, are fundamental to the transmission of oral texts. Not only do they
function in emphatic ways, providing texture and ton, they also convey meaning that is
not transmitted by the words. The majority of texts collected have been transcribed
without these features, leaving the reader with the unadorned framework of a
performative act.
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Preservation
There is no doubt that much remains to be learned from and about Central African oral
literature. The great vanished cultures of the West and the East are best known through
their visual arts and their literatures. Without their literatures little would be known about
the philosophical, cosmological, ethical, and value systems of these cultures, let alone
their history or social life. In anthropology as well as in folklore and comparative
literature, only limited attention has been given to collecting, translating, annotating, and
interpreting the orally transmitted texts of Central Africa. Scholars in various disciplines
and of many nationalities, including a considerable number of Africans, have involved
themselves with this type of study, but funds, programs, and broad academic and public
interest are still lacking. An enormous field of knowledge remains stored in the minds of
Central African singers and narrators. There are enough older and younger bards,
narrators and singers left in Central Africa, who have a perfect knowledge of the most
diverse textual genres to warrant accelerated efforts to collect the oral masterpieces.
African scholars, who have deep knowledge of their mother tongues, should play a major
role in this endeavor, the results of which would further testify to the amplitude and depth
of African thought. The need is not merely for linguistically and anthropologically
justified scholarly text, but also for readable, well-annotated translations that address
themselves to the wider public, so as to increase knowledge and appreciation of the
literary output of Central Africa. Special efforts should be made to connect texts and
visual arts through field research, so as to transcend the guesswork that often obfuscates
the interpretation of the African visual arts.
References
Biebuyck, Daniel P., and Kahombo Mateene. 1969. The Mwindo Epic from the Banyanga.
Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press.
——. 1970. Anthologie de la littérature orale Nyanga. Brussels: Académie Royale des Sciences
d’Outre-Mer.
Boelaert, E. 1957, 1958. Lianja Verhalen, I: Ekofo-Versie, II: De Voorouders van Lianja.
Tervuren: Musée Royal de l’Afrique Centrale.
de Dampierre, Eric. 1963. Poètes nzakara. Paris: Classiques Africains 1.
de Rop, A. De gesproken woordkunst van de Nkundo. 1956. Tervuren: Musée Royal de l’Afrique
Centrale.
Evans-Pritchard, E.E. 1967. The Zande Trickster. Oxford: The Clarendon Press.
Jacobs, John. 1959. Tetela-Teksten. Tervuren: Musée Royal de l’Afrique Centrale.
Manga Bekombo Priso. 1994. Défis et Prodiges. La fantastique histoire de Djèki-la-Njambé. Paris:
Classiques Africains 25.
Mufuta, Patrice. 1968. Le chant Kasàlà des Luba. Paris: Classiques Africains.
——. 1992. N’Sanda Wamenka. Récits épiques des Lega du Zaire, 2 vols. Tervuren: Musée Royal
de l’Afrique Centrale.
Pepper, H., and P.De Wolf. 1972. Un mvet de Zwè Nguéma. Paris: Classiques Africains 9.
Thomas, J.M.C. (in collaboration with Arom, S., and Mavode, M.). 1970. Contes, proverbes,
devinettes ou énigmes, chants et prières ngbaka ma’bo, (Lacito 6). Paris: Klincksieck.
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Van Caeneghem, R. 1938. Kabundi Sprookjes. Brussels: Vromant.
Van Wing J., and Cl. Schöller. 1940. Légendes des Bakongo Orientaux. Louvain: Aucan.
DANIEL P.BIEBUYCK
See also Gesture in African Oral Narrative; Griots and Griottes; Oral Traditions
and Oral Historiography; Oral Literature: Issues of Definition and Terminology;
Oral Narrative; Oral Traditions; Southern Africa: Contemporary Forms of
Folklore; FolkTales
CENTRAL AFRICAN REPUBLIC
(C.A.R.)
The Central African Republic is a thinly populated country of 3.6 million located in the
center of Africa, bordering Chad, Sudan, Democratic Republic of Congo, Congo, and
Cameroon. Most of the country is a broken plateau interspersed with deep river valleys.
The southwestern area of the country has rain forests, while a desert region is found in
the extreme northeast. Bangui, a coastal river port, is the capital and largest city. The
Central African Republic is composed of four major ethnic groups: the Banda, Baya (a
pygmy group), Mandja, and Sara. French is used as the principal language in business
and government, but Sango is the national language used by the various ethnic groups;
there is some Arabic spoken as well. Half of the population is equally divided between
Protestants and Roman Catholics, 24 percent practice traditional indigenous religions, 15
percent are Muslim while 11 percent are unclassified.
The Central African Republic was formally a territory in French Equatorial Africa
called Ubangi-Shari. It gained its independence from France in 1960. Its name in French,
the official language, is Republique Centrafricaine. Unfortunately, the Central African
Republic became known throughout the world for its infamous president, later selfproclaimed emperor, Jean Bedel Bokassa, an army sergeant who led the 1966 coup. His
brutal rule and eccentric excesses cost many lives and wasted much of the country’s
wealth. Although he was overthrown in 1979, the country is still struggling for stability.
The government is now a republic under the military rule, led by the Head of State and
President Ange-Felix Patasse.
Principle exports are agricultural products (coffee, cotton, and peanuts). Timber,
textiles, and diamond mining are its largest industries and sources of revenue. Despite
many episodes of drought and poor infrastructure, and despite its land-locked situation,
the Central African Republic has been able to adequately meet most of the nation’s basic
food needs, as well as remain relatively prosperous in comparison to neighboring
countries because of its relatively successful diamond and timber industries.
Nevertheless, it has one of the world’s lowest life expectancies at 45 years.
JENNIFER JOYCE
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CERAMICS
There is little doubt that ceramics are among the earliest and most ubiquitous forms of
material culture produced in Africa. Fired clay objects from Africa take both
nonfigurative and figurative forms. The term terra-cotta is frequently used to distinguish
figurative sculpture from functional vessels, or to distinguish art from craft. This
distinction corresponds to the predominance of men as sculptors and women as potters;
however, across the continent, there are men who produce utilitarian wares and women
who produce figurative ceramics.
Objects made of fired clay found in the Sahara Desert have been dated from 8000
BCE, suggesting the indigenous invention of ceramics in Africa. The essential
permanence of ceramics (also called pottery or earthenware) means that evidence of its
early production survives in the archaeological record, providing a means for
reconstructing historical sequences that predate European contact. The versatility of the
medium of clay has long been acknowledged, as have its sculptural possibilities. Yet
clay’s essential malleability contrasts dramatically with the fundamental conservatism
recognized as a feature of most utilitarian vessel styles. Indeed, many archaeologists use
pottery styles for reading culture history precisely because of the assumption that a
specific combination of clay body, technique, form, and decoration characterizes the
ceramics of any one ethnic group. When changes occur in a pottery style, they are usually
(but not always) attributed to changes in social, historical, or cultural circumstances. The
archaeological and ethnographic records prove this premise to be generally true;
however, the variables governing continuity or change in ceramic forms and functions are
contextually specific and need to be investigated against such particularities.
Utilitarian Pottery
Although economic circumstances tend to govern the quantity, type, and decoration of
vessels a group produces, function is a key determinant of size, shape, and
ornamentation. The majority of nonfigurative ceramics in Africa serve the domestic
purposes of settled agriculturalists. They are used for storing, transporting, cooking, and
eating a range of foodstuffs and liquids. As many as forty named vessel types, each with
a specific form and function, may be produced by a single ethnic group. Pots hold water,
beer, palm wine, grains, oils, butter, cosmetics, medicines, ink, or dye solutions. Pots
with perforations are sieves or drying chambers for meat or fish; bowls with heavily
incised interiors are grinders; and shallow bowls raised on stands are serving dishes or oil
lamps. Pots for storing and cooling water often are large with little or no necks for easy
access and for maximum surface area for evaporation; vessels for transporting water
often have an elongated neck and/or an everted rim to minimize spillage; and pots that
are small and round will distribute heat more effectively when on a cooking fire.
The low-fire unglazed pottery typical of Africa is particularly suited to the uses
described above—its porosity allows for natural evaporation of liquids through the vessel
walls and the open texture of the clay and low-firing temperature (rarely above 650
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degrees Centigrade and often much lower) are highly resistant to thermal shock
associated with open flame cooking.
Other utilitarian objects found within African households are also produced of fired
clay. Ceramic finials secure the thatching of roofs and prevent rain from entering at the
top. Ceramic pipe bowls are produced across Africa, usually by men. Pipes dating to the
seventeenth century have been found in Ghana and nineteenth to twentieth century
ceremonial pipes are common to the Cameroon Grasslands. The resonating chambers of
drums, tuyeres for iron-smelting furnaces, weights for fishing nets, spindle whorls, lamps
for burning oil, burners for incense, and certain types of furniture, including stools and
bed stands, are also made of fired clay.
African utilitarian ceramics are distinguished by a striking range of decoration. Before
firing, the surface may be modified by various types of impressed ornamentation,
achieved by rouletting, grooving, incising, and comb stamping. Surfaces also may be
modified before firing by burnishing or applying pigments, and during the firing, by
blackening the entire vessel in a reduction atmosphere or by achieving a mottled effect
with the application of a vegetal solution while the vessel is still hot. Like vessel size and
profile, decoration is controlled in part by function. Cooking pots tend to have the least
ornamentation because the soot of a cooking fire quickly turns them black. By contrast,
water-carrying pots are the most highly decorated because they are the most often seen,
frequently becoming extensions of a woman’s program of self-decoration. Such vessels
leave the private, often restricted domain of a woman’s kitchen and enter the more public,
social domain of the compound, village or beyond. Additionally, among certain peoples
(e.g., the Bole of northern Nigeria and the Gbaya of the Central African Republic), highly
ornamented pots are stacked around the interior perimeter of a woman’s sleeping room
where they may reflect her, or her household’s, economic and social standing.
Pottery Used in Rituals
A range of decorated ceramic containers appears in ritual or sacred contexts, used for
making offerings, for marking points of contact with the supernatural, or for containing
spirits themselves. Such pots often have a design vocabulary distinctive from that of a
group’s domestic wares. Common across Africa, for example, is the application of small
clay pellets to a pot’s surface to distinguish it as a spirit vessel. More elaborate are
vessels with applied figurative elements (either in low or high relief), such as pots used
by the Bini of southwestern Nigeria in shrines dedicated to Olokun, the god of the seas
and rivers; Igbo vessels made for the cult of the yam spirit, Ifijioku; and Yoruba bowls
used in cults dedicated to the thunder god, Shango. Among the Akan-speaking peoples of
Ghana, ritual grave vessels are covered in relief images of human beings or heads,
snakes, lizards, frogs, and crocodiles, often referring to Akan proverbs.
Figurative Ceramics
The most sculpturally complex ceramic vessels are those where a human head surmounts
the neck of the vessel. These largely date to the last two millennia, and certain examples
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have been found in archaeological contexts. Pots made in this style in the twentieth
century have been produced by various groups living in West and Central Africa, such as
the Akye of the southern Ivory Coast, the Yoruba of southwestern Nigeria, the Yungur,
Tula, Longuda, Cham/Mwona, and Jen of northeastern Nigeria, the Mangbetu, Azande
and related groups of northeastern Zaire, the Lunda, Lwena and Chokwe of Zaire,
Angola, and Zambia, and the Woyo of the Cabinda-Zaire borderlands. The style of
modeling the heads and bodies of these figurative vessels varies considerably from group
to group, often reflecting actual modes of permanent and ephemeral self-decoration.
Yungur women artists of northeastern Nigeria exploit the creative possibilities of the
clay, producing highly expressionistic portrait pots whose faces carry the details of
scarification and tooth-chipping distinctive to the Yungur.
Abatan is among the best-known female Yoruba potters (b. ?1885); she produced lids
in the form of a half-figure of a woman used in the veneration of the river deity, Erinle.
As with the Yungur vessels, these lids were modeled according to Yoruba concepts of
female beauty. Among the most famous examples of cephalomorphic vessels are those
made from the end of the nineteenth century to the early 1930s by Mangbetu men as
prestige objects for local Mangbetu chiefs and for Europeans. With their elongated
foreheads and elaborate halo-shaped coiffures, the heads on these vessels are idealized
representations of Mangbetu women.
A number of examples of figurative ceramic sculpture come from archaeological sites
in Nigeria. Those with the earliest dates are associated with the Nok culture of northern
Nigeria (500 BCE-200 CE). They include nearly life-size hollow-built heads, many once
attached to full figures up to 1.2 meters high, and small solid figurines. How they were
used remains unknown. Nevertheless, their level of technical accomplishment and formal
variation is all the more remarkable given their early dates. Other somewhat later
figurative ceramic traditions, dating after the twelfth century, are associated with the
towns of Ife, Benin, and Owo. All these examples, though distinctively stylized, represent
relatively naturalistic heads largely associated with royalty. The celebrated Ife examples
have faces bearing all-over delicate vertical lines and elaborately sculpted
coiffures/crests, whose iconographic meanings are unclear.
Recovered from mound sites south of Lake Chad are figurative ceramics associated
with an ancient, largely mythical people called the Sao. Produced between the eleventh
and thirteenth centuries, the Sao corpus includes small solid heads, human figurines, and
zoomorphic figurines mostly used as grave goods. Other sculptural figurines have been
found in a series of mound sites around the modem town of Jenne in the Middle Niger
region of Mali. Their strikingly complex postures and iconographical details have raised
as yet unanswered questions about who produced them and how they were used. The
flourescence of terra-cotta production in this area has been dated from 1000 to 1200 CE.
The figurative ceramics found in northern Ghana and attributed to the Koma provide
evidence of trade links between this region and towns in the Middle Niger, like Jenne.
Koma ceramics include human heads, full figures and animals, recovered mostly in burial
contexts. The Akan peoples of southern Ghana, most of whom likewise produced
commemorative ceramic heads set up, in groups, on grave sites, also were involved in the
trans-Saharan trade network. Although there are certain stylistic consistencies in the
sculpting of their faces, these ceramic portraits of state chiefs carry features distinctive to
their derivations in specific Akan city-states (e.g., Adanse-Fomena, Twifo-Heman, Fante,
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Kwahu, Anyi, and Aowin). Evidence of this funerary tradition dates to the seventeenth
century, and among certain Akan groups women still make these ceramic portraits.
Ceramics in Mortuary Contexts
It is notable that like these Akan, Koma, Sao, and Jenne examples, many African
figurative and nonfigurative ceramics were, and continue to be, used in mortuary or
funeral contexts. Large clay pots are used as burial urns and have been found
archaeologically in Mali, Niger, Chad, Cameroon, and elsewhere. Across northern
Nigeria and northern Cameroon figurative ceramic finials identify the houses of
important men, and then, when they die, are moved to their graves. Dakakari women of
northern Nigeria make tomb sculptures with complex anthropomorphic and zoomorphic
tableaux. In Zaire, the Kongo ba Boma erect cylindrical ceramic burial monuments made
by men, often with an upper platform surmounted by figures representing the deceased.
The relationship between ceramics and burials may have to do with the relative
permanence of clay and its ability to withstand the ravages of time, particularly within the
African environment. The symbolic connection between the transformative process of
firing clay and the passage from living to ancestral status may also make ceramic objects
appropriate to pre- and postburial ritual contexts.
Despite the flood of modern replacement containers entering the African marketplace
by the late twentieth century, the production of ceramics persists, often quite vigorously.
The practicality of pottery containers has not yet been fully superseded by mass-produced
equivalents. Women and some men continue to work in clay, producing not only
utilitarian, but also figurative vessels and sculpture still used in ritual or sacred contexts,
despite the fact that social, economic, political, and religious changes have rendered
many such objects obsolete.
References
Barley, Nigel. 1994. Smashing Pots: Feats of Clay from Africa. London: British Museum Press.
Berns, Marla C. 1989. Ceramic Arts in Africa. African Arts. 22, no. 2:32–36; 101–102.
Drost, Dietrich. 1968. Topferei in Afrika: Okonomie und Soziologie. Jahrbuch des Museums fur
Volkerkunde zu Leipzig 24: 131–270.
Fagg, William and John Picton. 1970. The Potter’s Art in Africa. London: British Museum Press.
Roy, Christopher D. 2000. Clay and Fire: Pottery in Africa. Iowa Studies in African Art: The
Stanley Conferences at The University of Iowa, volume IV. Iowa City: School of Art and Art
History, The University of Iowa.
Stossel, Arnulf. 1984. Afrikanische Keramik: traditionelle Handwekskunst sudlich der Sahara.
Munich: Hirmer Verlag.
MARLA C. BERNS
See also Cosmology; Gender Representation in African Folklore
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CERAMICS AND GENDER
Ceramic arts are generally recognized throughout West Africa as a woman’s art form.
Women potters produce a wide range of containers, cooking pots, braziers, and incense
burners for domestic use. In some regions, they provide architectural ceramics such as
rainspouts and roof finials. Women also produce vessels for ritual contexts, such as burial
jars and offering plates. They also make pots in which herbal remedies and other sacred
materials are prepared, stored, and protected. Women were probably responsible for most
of the ceramic wares that have come from archaeological contexts throughout west
Africa, and they may have had a role in creating the terra-cotta figurative sculpture often
presumed to be the work of male artists (see Berns).
Female potters across the Sudanic region of West Africa are often wives and mothers
of blacksmiths, from the Mande heartland to the mountains of Cameroon. Blacksmiths
and potters maintain near monopolies on the artistic domains of pottery production and
iron working, in part by keeping knowledge of these specialized technologies within their
families through endogamous marriage practices. Thus, among the various Mande
peoples (e.g., Bamana, Maninka, and Soninke), certain family names, such as Kante,
Fane, and Sumaworo, are recognizable as blacksmith-potter patronyms, even when not all
members of the family practice the trades that are their birthright. Similarly, most Senufo
potters are the wives of metalworkers, either blacksmiths or brass casters, even though
many of the men have given up the trade and have turned to the more profitable craft of
weaving.
Potters from metalsmithing families are respected for wielding spiritual powers
beyond those of ordinary women. They often serve their communities as midwives,
healers, and diviners. Among the Bamana and Maninka, certain blacksmith families have
the right to perform the circumcision and excision that are believed to be essential to a
child becoming an adult. A potter from such a family with the strength of character and
the courage may apprentice herself to an elder for many years before becoming a
“master-of-the-knife.” Potters also share with their blacksmith husbands specialized
knowledge of medicinal plants and herbal remedies. They may be called upon to create
protective amulets and to divine the future.
It is not surprising that these two crafts would be interrelated in both practical and
ideological ways. For both trades, the busiest time of year is the end of the dry season, a
time when those who rely on farming for livelihood are spending long days preparing the
fields. Equally important, they share parallel technologies of using fire to transform
materials from the earth (iron ore and clay) into useful cultural objects. The materials
with which they work are often considered to be spiritually charged and therefore
dangerous to those without the sacred knowledge essential for protection. Members of the
larger society often harbor ambivalent feelings of fear, respect, and disdain toward the
social category of blacksmiths and potters. However, individuals still are valued for their
creative abilities and for the critical roles they play in society.
Exceptions to the blacksmith-potter paradigm are significant because they signal the
presence of traditions of different origins or at least different histories. Dyula potters of
the Kadiolo region of southern Mali are the wives of griots who have left behind the
practice of praise singing and now earn a modest income farming, trading, and
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occasionally, leatherworking. Among Fula populations of the Inland Niger Delta and
Fouta Djallon regions, potters are more often the wives of griots, weavers, or
leatherworkers than of blacksmiths or jewelers. Elsewhere in West Africa, pottery
production is not associated with any particular endogamous occupational craft group.
Potters throughout the coastal regions are often the wives of farmers or traders and there
is greater freedom for a woman to choose to become a potter.
Although women dominate pottery production in West Africa, exceptions exist among
the Dogon of Mali, the Mossi of Burkina Faso, and among the Fula (Peul) and Maninka
(Malinké) populations of the Fouta Djallon region, where both men and women work
with clay. Among the Hausa of northern Nigeria, pottery production is dominated by
male craftsmen. Among the Moba of northern Togo, male and female potters are
distinguished by the use of different technologies and by the gender-specific categories of
activities for which their products will be used. Thus Moba male potters corner the
market on beer pots, while female potters produce a greater variety and quantity of
vessels essential to the domestic tasks of women. Similarly, in western Cameroon, men
carve clay pipes and make special prestige vessels. In each of these settings where men
work with clay, pottery production is not their exclusive domain, nor do male potters
provide the full range of pots for the needs of society. Their roles as ceramic artists seem
to be more specialized than those of their female counterparts.
References
Barley, N. 1994. Smashing Pots. Works of Clay from Africa. London: British Museum Press.
Berns, M. 1993. Art, History, and Gender: Women and Clay in West Africa. African
Archaeological Review 11:133–53.
Frank, B. 1998. Mande Potters and Leatherworkers. Art and Heritage in West Africa. Washington,
D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press.
Herbert, E. 1993. Iron, Gender, and Power. Rituals of Transformation in African Societies.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Kreamer, C.M. 2000. Money, Power and Gender: Some Social and Economic Factors in Moba
Male and Female Pottery Traditions Studies in African Art: The Stanley Conferences at the
University (Northern Togo). In Clay and Fire: Pottery in Africa. Iowa of Iowa, IV. Iowa City:
School of Art and Art History, The University of Iowa.
LaViolette, A. 1995. Women Craft Specialists in Jenne: The Manipulation of Mande Social
Categories. In Status and Identity in West Africa: Nyamakalaw of Mali, eds. D.C.Conrad and
B.E.Frank. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Picton, J. ed. 1984. Earthenware in Asia and Africa. Colloquies on Art and Archaeology in Asia,
no. 12. London: University of London Percival David Foundation of Chinese Art.
Roy, C.D. 1987. Art of the Upper Volta Rivers. Meudon, France: Chaffin.
——, ed. 2000. Clay and Fire: Pottery in Africa. Iowa Studies in African Art: The Stanley
Conferences at the University of Iowa, IV. Iowa City: School of Art and Art History, The
University of Iowa.
Spindel, C. 1989. Kpeenbele Senufo Potters. African Arts 22, no. 2: 66–73, 103.
Sterner, J., and N.David. 1991. Gender and Caste in the Mandara Highlands: Northeastern Nigeria
and Northern Cameroon. Ethnology 30, no. 4:355–69.
BARBARA FRANK
See also Blacksmiths: Mande Western Africa; Gender Representation in African
Folklore; Women’s Expressive Culture in Africa
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CHAD (REPUBLIQUE DU TCHAD)
Chad is an arid to semiarid country of nearly 7,270,000 located in the heart of northern
central Africa. Its neighboring countries are Sudan, Libya, Niger, Nigeria, Cameroon, and
Central African Republic. N’Djamena, with a population of 531,000, is the capital and
the largest city in the nation. The ethnic makeup of Chad consists of two hundred distinct
groups, 78 percent of whom live in rural areas. Over a hundred different languages are
spoken in Chad, but the major languages are French (the official language), Arabic,
Fulde, Hausa, Kotoko, Kanembou, and Sara Maba. Half of the population is Muslim,
one-quarter is Christian, and one-quarter practices traditional indigenous religions.
Since the ninth century CE, Chad has prospered under the usually united ruler-states
of Kanem and Bornu. The sultans of these states established successful trading empires
which created trade and commerce between North Africa’s Mediterranean coast and the
Central African interior. Chad has been controlled by the French since 1900 as part of
French Equatorial Africa and became independent in 1960. There has been sporadic civil
war since 1965, an ongoing conflict in which the French have periodically intervened and
even Libya became involved in 1983.
The natural resources in the region are petroleum, salt, uranium, and kaolin, while the
agricultural resources include cotton, cattle, fish, and sugar. The nation’s strongest
industries are livestock products, beer, and textiles. Unfortunately, due to the country’s
geography, the exportation of such products has been difficult and unprofitable because
Chad has no direct access to the sea. The great lake of the same name is shrinking.
Throughout the years Chad has suffered turmoil among its various ethnicities and
religions. The country’s three main geographical regions of the northern Sahara, middle
Sahel region, and southern savanna have played a role in dividing the peoples of these
disparate regions, who speak different languages and have different lifestyles and
economies.
JENNIFER JOYCE
CHECKERS
See Draughts
CHIEF
Chief refers to a person of eminence or high office, a community leader or overlord. In
Africa, the British used chief (the French chef) as a common term of reference for a
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variety of traditional leaders. This was done to facilitate the study, codification, and
promulgation of customary laws, rules, and regulations to support the framework of, and
in some cases, create and impose (Mamdani 1996, 41) “native authorities” as an
instrument of power in colonial territories. Though in some African societies (e.g.,
Asante, Dahomey, Botswana, and Buganda) women held positions of power parallel or
even superior to male titleholders, women were addressed not as chiefs but as queenmothers or princesses (Bryden 1998; Manuh 1988; Herskovits 1967; Rattray 1923).
In the most sophisticated and hierarchical traditional systems, the holder of the chiefly
position received recognition as king or queen, and their unique traditional titles were
respected, for example, The Alafin of Oyo, the Kabaka of Buganda, the Shilluk Reth, the
Asantehene, and so forth. Some historical documents, referred to traditional rulers or
leaders as cabooseers before chief came into vogue.
Traditionally, African kings and chiefs invariably combined secular and ritual powers.
Some had more mystical than secular functions, making the ruler a priest-king or a
divine-king. In Asante, however, the priest-king was taboo (Ohene komfo, yekyiri), thus
clearly defining the chief as a secular functionary, a rational politico-jural ruler.
In many societies long led by religious and divining leaders, contact with European
traders in the nineteenth century began a process of secularization. In some cultures the
accumulation by religious leaders of secular functions led eventually to the loss of their
sacred functions. In others, the process led to a separation of religious and secular
functions and the emergence of secular rulers—chiefs—side by side with ritual leaders
(as among the Ga people of Ghana).
In the past, chiefs played many roles. They were judges and maintained the rule of
law. They served as military leaders and led in wars. They were custodians of communal
ideals and enacted rites and customs that sustained the moral and cultural values of
society. For the survival of the community, they organized food production and ensured
food security. In many cultures, the traditional worldview postulated a bond between a
ruler and the health of the environment, which made the ruler directly responsible for the
observance of regulations about ex-ploitation of nature and the resources of the land.
Having lost their military functions under colonialism, chiefs still retain many of these
functions especially in rural communities.
In some cultures (e.g., the Igbo), chief is a mere honorific title that one takes as a mark
of personal achievement and outstanding generosity. The title must be “constantly
validated to be retained” (Uchendu 1965, 20), and no family has exclusive claim to any
title. In many cultures, appointive and hereditary titles exist side by side. Slaves and
commoners acquire the title through service appointments. Hereditary chiefs are selected
from royal lineages and ceremonially installed. Succession disputes and conflicts,
frequent in chiefly polities, were and are still the indication of the value a people place on
the institution. Yet succession conflicts represent the single most serious threat to the
survival of chieftaincy.
In several cultures, social anthropologists designated as chiefs the ritual officials
prominent in the settlement of disputes or the sustenance of community well-being. For
example, the Leopard Skin Chief among the Nuer of the southern Sudan has only ritual
power (Evans-Pritchard 1940). However, he plays a key role in the settlement of blood
feuds, an obviously political function.
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Whether ritual, symbolic, or secular, chiefly status evokes and goes with special praise
names, honorific titles and, more importantly, physical symbols, costumes, and other
signals of distinction. Most prominent among such symbols are Drums, Spears, Masks,
Shields, Stools, Skins, Maces, Robes, and Headgears. Standing for mystical power, or the
spirit of the community, most of these symbols are the focus of special ancestral rituals
that people believe sustain the life of the corporate group. These sacred symbols are often
at the center of succession conflicts in Africa.
In many of the former French colonies, chiefs have virtually disappeared. In the
former British colonies, chiefs, having played a very prominent part in the system of
indirect rule, became the victims of the rising tide of African nationalism and the struggle
for independence. The institution, however, has recovered its prestige. Chiefs have
become at once both the symbol of the dignity and identity of African cultures and, as
natural leaders, kingpins of national stability and progress. As Africans struggle to
establish the basis of democratic governance in their own traditional modes of
governance, some states (e.g., Swaziland and Ghana) are giving a pivotal role to their
traditional rulers. In multiethnic states, this gives prospects for the establishment of new
chiefly councils. Beyond the Regional and National Houses of chiefs the there is
envisioned, for example, a West African subcontinental House of Chiefs. The rise of such
crosscultural councils of chiefs is largely attributable to not only the large numbers of
highly educated persons holding traditional titled positions in ethnic communities, but
also of the perception of common values that support communitarian life and the culture
of leadership in Africa.
Yet education, a major factor of change in Africa, is constantly eroding the social
basis and communal support for chieftaincy. Educated subjects no longer offer assured
labor, financial support, and services in token of traditional allegiance to their
communities and chiefs. Conversely, on account of their education, professional
occupations, and conversion to non-African religions, many chiefs are not able to
perform the traditional rites, and judicial and social services traditionally due to their
subjects.
The title chief now generally goes to people of wealth and political influence and
seems destined to lose its mystic aura.
References
Arhin, Kwame. 1985. Traditional Rules in Ghana: Past and Present. Accra: Sedco Publications.
Beattie, John. 1998. Bunyoro: An African Kingdom. New York: Holt, Rinehard and Winston.
Bryden, Lynne. 1998. Women Chiefs and Power in the Volta Region of Ghana. Journal of Legal
Pluralism and Unofficial Law. 37/38:227–48.
Busia, K.A. 1951. The Position of the Chief in Modern Asante. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Evans-Pritchard, E.E. 1940. The Nuer. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Herskovits, M.J. 1967. Dahomey: An Ancient West African Kingdom. Evanston: Northwest
University Press.
Mamdani, M. 1996. Citizen and Subject. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Manuh, T. 1988. The Asantehemaa’s Court and its Jurisdiction over Women: A Study in Legal
Pluralism. Research Review 4, no. 2: 50–66.
Rattray, R.S. 1963. Ashanti. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Uchendu, V.C. 1965. The Igbo of Southern Nigeria. New York, Holt, Rinehart, and Winston.
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GEORGE P.HAGAN
See also Okyeame; Queen Mothers
CHILDREN’S FOLKLORE: ITESO
SONGS OF WAR TIME
In the mid-1990s, the people of Teso, northeastern Uganda, emerged from a protracted
civil conflict, in which they were very much the losers. Between 1986 and 1992, the Itseo
people had supported and participated in a rebel movement against the government forces
of Uganda. Government forces quelled this rebellion through a strategy of moving the
Iteso people off their land and into heavily guarded settlement camps. This allowed them
to create a free-fire zone, in which anyone outside the camps was assumed to be hostile to
the government and was captured or killed. Being in the camps, however, also placed the
Iteso at the mercy of the cattle raids of the neighboring Karamojong people. Raiding by
Karamojong, involving groups of armed men sweeping in and taking livestock, has a
long history in Teso. But with the majority of Iteso in camps and unable to enact
traditional defenses such as moving or selling their cattle, the raiding reached devastating
proportions.
By 1992, with the rebellion defeated by government forces, the Itseo were once again
free to move out of the camps and return to their villages. Yet the economy and culture of
the region, which had previously relied so heavily upon cattle resources, was all but
destroyed. The loss of cattle in Karamojong raiding meant that households could not
restore traditional agricultural practices using ox-ploughs and were rendered extremely
vulnerable economically. The loss of cattle also meant that traditional marriage practices
involving bridewealth exchange could not be fulfilled. But perhaps most important about
the loss of cattle was the damage done to the Iteso’s sense of self-identity, which is built
upon a love of, and pride in, cattle.
In the intervening years since the end of the conflict, the Iteso have faced the triple
challenge of economic, social, and emotional recovery. Despite the constraints and
additional threats such as drought, the impact of HIV/AIDS, and continuing Karamojong
raiding, it is a challenge they have met with a high degree of cultural resilience and
innovation.
The Karamojong Outmaneuvered
One outcome of this recovery process has been a proliferation of Iteso folklore regarding
the relationship between Karamojong and Iteso. Children in particular are highly praised
if they can narrate stories concerning the relationship between the two peoples. The first
set of stories that children are encouraged to narrate are those that dwell on the early
history of the Iteso people. Iteso folklore has it that the Teso are related to the
Karamojong but emerged as a separate group of people when the cleverest individuals
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from the Karamojong decided to move on, break away, and set up a new kind of society
based on principles of development and progress (Webster et al. 1973, 29). Children are
encouraged to learn and recite this history.
However, the stories of children and young people that earn particular commendation
around the nighttime fire are those stories whose subject is an event in the recent conflict
in which Iteso managed to defeat and outwit Karamojong raiders. Despite the overall
losses sustained by the Itseo from the Karamojong, it is acknowledged that there were
times when the Iteso managed to maintain the upper hand and to prevent a certain herd of
cattle being stolen, or to escape a certain death. These stories are much enjoyed and take
on a very stylized form. The Iteso character is always in danger of losing cattle in a raid
and even losing his or her own life until by some act of cunning and cleverness they
manage to outmaneuver the Karamojong. So, for example, in tales of the Iteso being
caught in a home by approaching raiders, the Itseo person quickly dons a sheep or cattle
hide, managing to escape with the herd. A plethora of other tales involve Iteso who hide
in the rafters when Karamojong raiders enter their home. The Iteso characters jump down
behind the entering Karamojong, lock the door and run away. When another group of
Karamogong reach the home, they shoot through the door thus killing all the Karamojong
inside. At the end of all these stories the children and young people conclude by saying,
“The Karamojong left with their tails behind them.”
Obviously, these are tales of Iteso resistance, the stories are told to affirm that
although the Iteso lost almost everything to the Karamojong they did not lose the ability
to trick and outwit the Karamojong when they could and defend themselves as much as
possible. But more than this, these tales follow long established patterns of storytelling in
Iteso culture. Lawrence notes that telling fables or stories (awaragasia), is an ancient
Teso practice (1957, 179). As in other East African societies, such narratives are suffused
with moral imagination and act as a forum for resolving, articulating, and assessing the
ambiguities of social life (Beidelman 1993). In Teso the particular moral principle
stressed in such narratives is that of “knowledge,” “outwitting,” and “cleverness” (acoa).
There are many tales in Teso that exemplify the value of this sort of knowledge (Akello
1995, 4).
Grace Akello (1981) has studied the thought patterns in Iteso awaragasia. There is a
wide range of tales with animal characters. She notes (1981, 129) that the Hare figure,
Opooi, is often the hero of awaragasia. The Hare is valued for characteristics of acoa, of
cunning and trickery, of wit and intelligence. She states that the trickery of Hare is not
despised by Iteso audiences but condoned even though it might involve cruelty. In the
tales, the Hare often outwits the Leopard, Erisa, who is portrayed as stealthy and cruel,
over confident, vengeful and unpredictable, and the Lion, Engatuny, who is seen as cruel,
merciless, ferocious, a senseless killer, and without intelligence.
The modern-day Iteso tales of Iteso versus Karamojong exactly follow this logic. In
them the Iteso display cunning and cleverness as compared to the ruthless stupidity of the
Karamojong. The Iteso are the tricky heroes and the Karamojong, the cruel adversaries. It
is no coincidence that the Karamojong are said to have their “tails behind them.” The
word for tail here is ekori, indicating the tail of a wild animal, rather than the word used
for the stunted tail of sheep, goats, and hares, aikunet. An explicit parallel is being made
between Karamojong and the fierce Leopard and Lion of awaragasia, who were so often
outwitted by the Hare. These tales confirm an important Iteso principle of self-identity,
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that which is manifest in the creation stories of the Iteso where the Iteso separated from
the Karamojong because they were more intelligent and progressive.
Folklore as Healing Therapy
The proliferation of Iteso folklore concerning relations between them and the
Karamojong is part of a process of postwar reconstruction. In this process therapeutic
emotional healing and the restoring of a sense of self is as important as renewed
economic viability. The stories are just one example of a process of emotional healing;
there are many more. The tales retell the conflict to stress that, despite the circumstances,
Iteso people were able to act with acoa in the conflict, which led to their survival and
development as a people. The tales affirm Iteso principles of cleverness and ability
through which the Iteso emerge victorious. They are tales that reverse the actual history
of weakness and powerlessness that the Iteso felt at the hands of the Karmojong. They are
stories in which the listeners, victims themselves, remember in stylized ways that make
them feel good and not humiliated.
This phenomenon is typical of many of the ways the Iteso have come to terms with
their past suffering, recreating it into folk history and subduing the pain that the events
entailed. In the creation of a new genre of tales in present-day Teso there is evidence of a
living purpose of folklore in healing and binding together a community after rupture as
well as passing on history and morality. It is especially important that children, a new
postwar generation, are key participants in this process. The children are acclaimed when
they tell and elaborate on the stories. They are thus innovators, creators, and receivers of
folklore, which is an important cultural resource after a time of immense pain and
suffering. In Teso, folklore has thus become a resource through which the Iteso
strengthen themselves and their children to face a difficult present and uncertain future
with renewed identity and self-belief.
References
Akello, G. 1981. Iteso Thought Patterns in Tales. Dar Es Salaam: Dar Es Salaam University Press.
——. 1995. Self Twice Removed: Ugandan Women. London: International Reports, Women and
Society, CHANGE.
Beidelman, T. 1993. Moral Imagination in Kaguru Modes of Thought. Bloomington: Indiana
University Press.
Lawrence, J.C.D. 1957. The Iteso: Fifty Years of Change in a Nilo-Hamitic Tribe of Uganda.
London: Oxford University Press.
Webster, J.B., et al. 1973. The Iteso During the Asonya. Nairobi: East Africa Publishing House.
JO DE BERRY
See also Cosmology; East African Folklore: Overview
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CHILDREN’S FOLKLORE: KUNDA
SONGS
The Kunda of Zambia are a societal group that has assimilated many people from other
regional societies. The Kunda generally are matrilineal, but because some of the people
they have assimilated follow patrilineal kinship patterns there is occasionally competition
between maternal and paternal kin for the loyalties of children. Still, visimi, the songs
which children sing, are usually taught to them by their mothers or their maternal kin in
the various regional dialects of their mothers. The lessons these songs teach tend to be
about ways to build and manage alliances for survival. The Kunda explain that these
songs teach children to follow the “ways of staying” (makhalidwe, or traditional
knowledge) of their mothers and maternal kin.
Kunda country is characterized by a harsh environment that periodically has very
scarce resources. The unpredictability of the climate and movement of herds of buffalo,
antelope, or elephant, and sometimes even attacks by wild animals such as lions, means
that children must learn to stay alert and watchful at all times. In the face of such difficult
circumstances, the Kunda must learn to live with unpredictability, and to rely on personal
cunning and strength. Animal behavior or climate swings often serve in folk songs as
metaphors for the unpredictability of human politics.
For instance, many songs are about Kalulu, a very clever scrub hare who manages to
come out ahead in nearly any difficult situation. In one song Kalulu makes an exchange
with another animal for some food, which leaves the other animal hungry. This instigates
a lengthy series of other exchanges between other animals for food, and in every case the
exchange leaves the other animals feeling shortchanged. In a reverse series of exchanges
to amend the situation, all the animals still find they have ended up with a poor deal, but
feel that at least an attempt at recompense has been made. All except Kalulu, that is, who
manages to make the gesture of recompense but only after eating heartily.
Another genre of folk songs illustrates ways to cooperate with distant people so as to
survive in the most difficult of circumstances. A song describes a girl or boy returning to
the village, only to find that all the inhabitants have died. The boy or girl is forced to
wander among other villages, sleeping in chicken coops and scavenging for food. The
song continues:
Go! Go quickly little child! To the village of your extended relatives! Find
out what they need, and start doing some jobs for them, do some chores.
They will see that you are useful to them, and they will feed you. They
will take care of you. This is what we tell you—your mother, your father,
your aunties, your uncles—don’t sleep in the chicken coop any longer.
Thus, song is employed to impart lessons that may prove valuable to the child as he or
she navigates his or her way to adulthood in the unforgiving landscape the Kunda call
home.
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References
Mwanalushi, Muyuda. 1990. Youth and Society in Zambia. Lusaka: Multimedia Publications.
Ngulube, Naboth M.J. 1989. Some Aspects of Growing Up in Zambia. Lusaka: Nalinga
Consultancy Publishing.
Sumbwa, Nyambe. 1993. Zambian Proverbs. Lusaka: Zambia Printing Co. Publications.
BRADFORD STRICKLAND
See also Tricksters in African Folklore
CHILDREN’S FOLKLORE: NDEBELE
Not to be confused with the Ndebele of South Africa, who are well known for their
decorative arts, the Ndebele people of Zimbabwe are cousins with, or descendants of, the
Zulu of South Africa. The Ndebele are located in the southwestern part of Zimbabwe.
Their founding ruler was uMzilikazi and the last Ndebele king was uLobegula.
As a primarily oral people the Ndebele possess oral art forms that serve a variety of
functions. African scholars have suggested the term orature to label these oral art forms.
In Ndebele society orature is used as a medium for socializing children. Consequently,
children’s orature is a reflection of the society’s culture and history. Today most of the
traditional oral forms have changed particularly in terms of the media and forms of
existence. This entry focuses on lullabies, folktales (inganekwane), jokes (amaphoxo),
riddles, tongue twisters, material forms, and games, and adopts a chronological
presentation of the oral forms, that is, it presents them in a manner that corresponds to the
developmental stages of children, from birth through early adolescence. The infant forms
take a primarily poetic structure, and as the children grow older the forms become more
narrative except for songs.
Lullabies
Lullabies are children’s poetry composed with the understanding and appreciation of the
child’s needs. They are among the earliest oral forms to which infants are exposed. They
do not have a fixed performance location. Although they are usually performed to
entertain or soothe a crying baby, lullabies also serve as media for socializing children.
Mothers or any other adult performs them. A lullaby can either be slow, rhythmic, or
sleep-inducing, depending on what the intention for it is. As a socialization tool, lullabies
are used to introduce infants and babies primarily to the language of the society. The
following example illustrates this:
Ola ola
Ola, ola
Nank’amabhecezana
I see some pumpkin pieces
Enhla kwembiz’enkulu
At the corner of a big pot
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Eat two of them
Utshiye mathathu
And leave three
Utshiyel’umntwana
For the baby
Ol ola
Ola, ola
Nant’ubhec’es’levini
I see a small piece of a pumpkin on your chin
Parents usually use this kind of rhyme when they play with a child or are putting them to
sleep. Some of the words in a lullaby are built around vowel sounds (Ola, ola; Udle),
click sounds (amabhecezana, the click sound is the c in the word, its sound is similar to
the sound made by a mechanical watch), and rhymes. Lullabies also expose infants to the
language and the tradition of singing.
Nursery Rhymes and Games
As they grow older, children are introduced to nursery rhymes and games that carry
lessons on language, and morals. In addition to their use within families, rhymes are now
used in the classroom as a learning aid in math and language. The following example
illustrates some of these. It is about a child called Yeye taking a walk with her father. In
addition to language exposure, the children who hear the nursery rhyme are given a
lesson: the need to wash one’s hands before one eats a meal. Whereas only adults or older
children perform lullabies, both adults and children perform rhymes and games.
Ngubani lo
Who is this
NguYeye
It is Yeye
Uhamba lobani
Who is with her
Loyise
Her father
Wamphathelani
What did he bring her
Amasi
Some milk
Ngendleb’enjani
In what kind of a container
Ebomvu
A red one
Wayifaka ngaphi
Where did he place it
Esibayeni
In the kraal
Es’khulu, es’khulu
The big kraal
Nguye lo umadla engagezanga
She is the one who eats with unclean hands
Today, some teachers use game rhymes to motivate children to learn the letters of the
alphabet. Children are challenged to create rhymes that enhance their learning, for
instance, in counting games or spelling rhymes.
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Folktales
One of the earliest folklore forms that children are exposed to is the folktale. Like
lullabies, adults perform these to children in their earliest years, but some older children,
under the supervision of an elder, perform the stories too. They are performed during the
winter, and in the early hours of the evening. There is a taboo that if one performs them
outside the stipulated restrictions, the performer will grow horns. Folktales are an
important medium for socializing children in that they incorporate various other folklore
forms such as songs, jokes, and riddles. They are also constructed in a manner that allows
audience participation. Most of the tales targeted at children carry important moral
messages, such as good behavior, kindness, respect, cooperation, and love. Some of the
messages are contained in the titles of the tales, for example as in “The Greedy Dog” or
“A Kind Woman.” Many of the characters in the tales are animals, as children usually
like animal characters, finding them entertaining and humorous.
A Ndebele tale has an introduction, a conflict, and a conclusion. It also uses stock
phrases that, over time, children are expected to know. Another important aspect of the
tale is the performer, who is expected to be a dramatic narrator of the story. Thus, most of
the performers in Ndebele society are grandmothers or mothers of the family, usually
those that can vocalize, act, and dramatize action, and sing. Schoolteachers also play the
part of the performer, or sometimes they read written folktales to students. Singing is
required as many tales contain a song that plays an important dramatic part in the story,
especially in audience participation. A song’s emotional content is used to dramatize the
high points of the story, and highlight secret messages. In order to prepare an audience,
especially children, to appreciate a character’s feelings or problems, the performer has to
charge them emotionally through song. Some songs contain mysterious, borrowed, or
difficult words for children. So, this gives them the opportunity to expand their
vocabulary. Other things that are used to capture children’s interest are the food served
and the fire around which a tale is built. Since folktaling occurs in the winter months, the
harvesting period, children are treated to corn kernels roasted on the fire. Sometimes
riddling is also used as a means to attract them. Another folklore form that is part of
folktaling is a game called imfumba, in which an opponent has to guess the hand in which
the other person is hiding something. Traditionally the adult performing tales for the
children supervised the game.
Riddles
In traditional Ndebele society, riddling did not exist as a separate oral form. Riddles were
always an adjunct of folktaling under the supervision of an adult. However, today riddles
are performed separately from tales, usually by children, mostly at school. There are
different types of riddles: traditional ones, puzzle riddles, and joke riddles. Traditional
riddles depict traditional Ndebele culture, while contemporary ones depict the
experiences of contemporary society. The following riddles testify to these observations.
The first pair is drawn from traditional society, and the second pair from contemporary
society. Here is an example of a traditional riddle: “Ngikulibha ngentaba ephahlwe
ngabafana ababili—likhanda lendlebe” (I riddle you with a mountain that stands between
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two boys). The answer is, the human head and two ears. The imagery and the language
are reflective of traditional society. The language is based on natural phenomena such as
mountain. Another traditional riddle is “Ngikulibha ngenkunzi ebomvu esesibayeni
esakhiwe ngezigodo ezimhlophe” (I riddle you with a bull in a kraal made out of white
poles). The answer is, the tongue and teeth. Like in the previous riddle, the language used
is derived from rural and agricultural life and experiences. Cattle played an important
economic and symbolic role in Ndebele society. They were used for farming, as a
measure of wealth, and as a medium of religious practices. Ndebele society has a high
concentration of vocabulary built around cattle. This is evident from the riddle, in the
words bull and kraal. While riddles are meant to sharpen children’s observational skills,
they also teach them language.
More recent riddles reflect the technological and literacy changes that have been
experienced in Ndebele society. For example, one contemporary riddle goes, “Ngikulibha
ngomfana ohamba ngekhanda—yipenseli” (I riddle you with a boy who walks on his
head). The answer is, a pen or a pencil. This riddle records the introduction of Western
writing via colonialism to the Ndebele society. Another riddle reflecting more
contemporary experiences via colonialism and greater exposure to nontraditional cultures
is, “What dog cannot bite?” The answer is “a hot dog.”
Songs
Besides lullabies and songs in folktales, there are traditional songs that are used to
socialize children. Important events in a person’s life are celebrated with music
(ceremonies) that children may participate in. These songs exploit the musical and poetic
quality of language. However, most children, especially in their earlier years, engage
more in game songs that are sung in the evenings soon after meals. In traditional society
children formed themselves into a circle and joined their hands, and sung a song while
dancing to it. This was a symbol of communal solidarity. Children created songs and
games primarily from their natural surroundings. Some of these traditional performances
were discontinued as a result of the war of liberation.
Jokes (Amaphoxo)
Jokes are very popular with contemporary Ndebele children, especially those attending
elementary school. Most of the jokes that they tell reflect the changes that the society has
experienced since colonization. There are various categories of jokes: those concerned
with elders’ ignorance about contemporary technology and experiences, the English
language, the clash between rural and urban life, and simple joke contests between
children. In the jokes, rural children are described by their urban counterparts as being
ignorant. Rural children sometimes turn the tables against their urban friends. The
following self-explanatory jokes illustrate these categories:
Kuthiwa kwakukhona omunye umuntu owagebhela iradio phansi esithi
ufuna ukuzwa iunderground news.
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(There was an individual who is said to have dug his radio into the
ground so that he could listen to underground news, he said.)
Wenziwa yikuthi wezwa kuthiwa uJune uyeza wahamba
wayamkhansila kukhalenda.
(When you heard people say that the month of June was approaching,
you ran to your calendar and drew a line across the month.)
Ngabuya lawe koBulawayo wathi, “Khangelanini amakhiwa afake
imbawula phezulu,” usitsho amalayithi.
(I took you to the city for a visit, and after you saw streetlights you
commented, “Look, white people put heaters up in the sky.”)
Umfana wedolobheni wathi uchago luvela embodleleni.
(A boy from the city commented that milk came from a bottle.)
Waphupha usidla isinkwa wavuka uqede umqamelo.
(One night you dreamt about eating a loaf of bread, and the next
morning when you woke up you realized that in your sleep you had been
eating up your pillow.)
Tongue Twisters
Some of the distinctive features of the Ndebele language are click sounds, notably those
represented by c, q, and x. Most tongue twisters of the language are built around these
clicks. Verbal dexterity and a rich vocabulary are considered important and vital skills in
Ndebele society. Such dexterity is primarily built around the different articulations and
combinations of the clicks and the high speed at which they are to be said without a slip
of the tongue. At this stage of their development, children are supposed to have mastered
the subtleties of the language. Here are two examples that play on the click sounds:
“Ngihlangane lexhegu ligax’ iqhele liqag’ iqhaga ngomlomo” (I met an old man with a
piece of cloth on his back, and he was holding a gourd on his lips). X and Q are the core
sounds of the tongue twister. They become more complicated; however, when combined
with H. The H helps to create an aspirated Q or X sound. Children are pitted against each
other in a contest to demonstrate their mastery of the click sounds. The second example,
“Iqhele likaMqhele liqunywe liqhalaqhala” (Mqhele’s piece of cloth was cut by the illbehaved girl) is a play on the Q sound and its combinations with H.
Material Art Forms and Games
Besides contemporary toys, Ndebele children have always used available materials to
create their own toys, and they also engage in games to bond with other children. Mud
and vegetable materials, especially grass and wood, have been used in the past to make
miniature animals, human beings, baskets, and clothes. Nowadays, some children use
wire and scrap metal to create artistic pieces. One of the popular games they play is hide
and seek.
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Nicknaming and Nicknames
Almost every child has a nickname at one time in its lives. Children use these to ridicule
one another, their parents, grandparents or teachers, or to joke with each other.
Sometimes the nicknames simply describe an innocent appearance of an individual.
One’s appearance and behavior may be a source of a nickname. If one has a big forehead,
stomach, or feet, they are likely to be called “Big Forehead,” “Stomach,” or “Big Feet.”
References
Dube, Caleb. 1990. Children’s Orature (Oral Art) in Matebeleland in Zimbabwe: Tradition and
Innovation as Revealed by its Use. In Proceedings of the Workshop and Conference on
Regional Audio-Visual Archives, AVA-90, Falun, Sweden, July 5–11, 1990. Falun/Oslo: Dalarna
Research Council and Norwegian Collection of Folk Music, Department of Music and Theater
Studies, University of Oslo.
——. 1989. Ndebele Oral Art: Its Development within the Historic-Socio-Economic Context.
Master of Philosophy thesis, African Languages and Literature, University of Zimbabwe.
CALEB DUBE
See also Folktales; Riddles; Songs for Ceremonies; Tongue Twisters, East Africa
CHOKWE
See Central African Folklore; History and Cultural Identity: The Chowke
CLASSIQUES AFRICAINS
In 1964, a group of French Africanists—Eric de Dampierre, Michel Leiris, Gilbert
Rouget, and Claude Tardits—founded the Association of Classiques Africains, whose
object was two-fold: first, to contribute to a better knowledge of African literature outside
of its country of origin; and second, to increase the number of literary documents
available for research on the civilizations of Africa. As anthropologists, linguists, and
musicologists, they had the opportunity to attend and appreciate, among the local
audiences, performances of poets, singers, musicians, and storytellers. Therefore, they
decided to collect these orally told or sung texts, which in their original forms already
were “open air classics.” As well, they gathered a certain number of manuscripts
belonging to the traditional local heritage. In the meantime, other researchers doing
fieldwork in various parts of Africa joined the initial founders of the association, and
have since then taken an active part in developing the Classiques Africains collection.
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Twenty-eight volumes have been published by Classiques Africains. Each is provided
with an introduction on the sociocultural setting in which the texts were recorded.
Twenty-seven are bilingual, presenting the original language in transcripts with a French
(sometimes also English) translation supplied with linguistic and ethnographical
comments. Several volumes contain a record or cassette that demonstrates some of the
oral and musical elements of the performances.
The list of present publications below should give an idea of the variety of the genres
concerned, among which epics play an outstanding part. The distributor for all the
volumes is Servédit, Paris.
References
Bâ, Âmadou-Hampâté. 1974. L’éclat de la grande étoile, suivi du Bain rituel, récits initiatiques
peuls.
Bâ, Amadou-Hampâté, and Lilyan Kesteloot. 1968. Kaïdara, récit initiatique peul.
de Dampierre, Éric. 1963. Poètes nzakara.
——. 1987. Satires de Lamadani. 2 vols. and cassette.
de Wolf, P. and P. 1972. Un mvet de Zwè Nguéma, chant épique fang recueilli par H. Pepper (with
record).
Derive, Jean, and Gerard Dumestre. 1999. Des hommes et des bêtes. Chants de chasseurs
mandingues.
Dumestre, Gérard. 1979. La geste de Ségou, racontée par des griots bambara (with record).
Dumestre, Gérard, and Lilyan Kesteloot. 1975. La prise de Dionkoloni.
Fortier, Joseph. 1967. Le mythe et les contes de Sou.
——. 1974. Dragons et sorcières, contes et moralités du pays Mbaï-Moïsaala.
Galley, Micheline. 1971. Badr as-zîn et six contes algériens. (2d. ed. 1993).
Galley, Micheline, and Abderrahman Ayoub. 1983. Histoire des Beni Hilal et de ce qui leur advint
dans leur Marche vers l’ouest, versions tunisiennes de la Geste hilalienne.
Galley, Micheline, and Zakia Iraqui Sinaceur. 1994. Dyab, Jha, La “âba…Le triomphe de la ruse.
Contes morocains du fonds Colin.
Goody, Jack, and S.W.D.K.Gandah. 1980. Une recitation du Bagré (including English version).
Lacroix, Pierre-Francis. 1965. Poésie peule de l’Adamawa (2 vols.).
Mufuta, Patrice. 1968. Le chant kasàla des Luba.
Platiel, Suzanne. 1984. La fille volage et autres contes du pays san.
Priso, Manga Bekombo. 1993. Défis et prodiges. La fantastique histoire de Djéki-la-Njambé (with
record).
Rodegem, F.M. 1973. Anthologie rundi.
Seydou, Christiane. 1972. Silâmaka et Poullôri, récit épique peul (with record).
——. 1976. La geste de Ham-Bodêdio ou Hama le Rouge (with record).
——. 1991. Bergers des mots, poésie peule du Mâssina.
Seydou, Christiane, Brunehilde Biebuyck, and Manga Bekombo Priso. 1997. Voix d’Afrique,
Anthologie Vol. 3, Poésie.
Smith, Pierre. 1975. Le récit populaire au Rwanda.
Sow, Alfâ Ibrâhîm. 1966. La femme, la vache, la foi.
——. 1971. Le filon du bonheur éternel.
MICHELINE GALLEY
See also French Study of African Folklore; Oxford Library of African Literature
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COLOR SYMBOLISM: THE AKAN OF
GHANA
The Akan of central Ghana incorporate an active and complex system of symbolic
display in their ceremonial, ritual, and everyday life. Their intricate goldwork, cast
bronze, and carved wooden figures are well known, as are the complexly woven kente
and stamped adinkra cloths. Color plays a prominent role as a visual symbolic form in
establishing a subtext for ceremony or ritual occasions, establishing identities of
individuals and participants, defining relationships, and by contextualizing the
appearance of ceremonial regalia and ritual objects. It enhances royal regalia either as a
complimentary embellishment of objects to identify them to the specific occasion or as
symbol of rank and status. Color gives religious ritual a sacred presence, reflecting the
temper and meaning of the moment as well as the cycle of the ceremony. Visually
prominent and ritually significant during funerals, color serves to indicate the complex
relationships of extended families during this period of mourning and transition.
Though many hues are today found in use among the Akan, there remain three
primary groupings of color commonly identified with symbolic or ritual usage. Defined
in broad inclusive categories they include white (fufu) and various shades of red or russet
(kokoo or kobene) or dark tones (tuntum). Each cluster of colors embodies associations
that reflect spiritual and cultural values and symbolic references that are shared by the
larger Akan population and contextually defined to circumstance and ritual appearance.
Cloths (ntoma) of different colors are often the most visible element during ceremonies
and their color will reflect the event and define an individual’s participation in the
ceremony.
White
White (fufu) among Akans represents spirituality, sacredness of place, purity,
virtuousness, joyousness, and victory. After recovery from a long illness, an individual
and their family wear white cloths for a period of time to reflect their joy at the recovery
of their family member. A woman who has recently delivered a baby dresses in a white
cloth to recognize a successful delivery and to celebrate her new child. Fufu serves to
portray the purity of souls, as individuals who have been absolved of guilt in a court case
mark their shoulders and heads with white clay, known as hyire, to demonstrate their
innocence and happiness. White also serves to establish ceremonial, ritual, and spiritual
identity. Shrines are painted white and their priests solemnly sprinkle hyire on the ground
and themselves to sanctify rituals and establish contact with the spirit of the shrine.
Priests dedicated to Nyame (the chief deity among the Akan) are known by the manner in
which their hair is shaved and by the use of white clay markings on their bodies. Three
parallel lines of white clay are drawn from the crown of the head extending down the
forehead and continuing down each cheek. Similar lines are drawn on each shoulder and
upper arm and across the chest. As the lines are drawn with three fingers, the priest
recites a dedication that equates the divinity to the white clay. Therefore, white in this
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usage serves as a badge of office reflecting priestly devotion, as well as acknowledging
the spirituality of God.
Funerals of priests are celebrated by their family who wear white cloth and dust white
powder on themselves to acknowledge the priest’s spirituality. Shrines and chief’s houses
have white walls and red foundations and men who help the king repair the floors have
three bands of red clay (ntuwma) wiped across their foreheads by the king as a sign of
appreciation and honor. During the repair of royal tombs, a dark russet cloth known as
kuntunkuni is worn to indicate the sorrow of those working when they think of the great
deeds of their kings and in honor of the dead. Women who whitewash the local shrine
house, where the spirit (obosom) lives, spread some of the white wash across their breasts
to show their participation during the repairing of the spirit’s house.
Stools belonging to royals and family elders are cleaned and whitened with clay on
festive days to acknowledge the purity of the owner’s soul (kra). Newly named chiefs
and their followers wear white and brightly colored cloths to demonstrate their happiness
and celebrate the installation of the new chief. During funerals for an elderly relative,
family members reverse tradition and wear white to celebrate the new ancestor rather
than the dark cloths normally worn. The cycle of grieving for widows or widower’s ends
when dark cloths are cast off and a white cloth is put on during the Kunyae ceremony,
which ends the yearlong period of mourning.
Retainers at court, known as akyerefo, are responsible for ensuring the ongoing purity
of the king’s soul; they often wear white cloths or mark their bodies with hyire during
state ceremonies such as the Odwira and Adae. Other court attendants (akonuasoafo) who
carry the royal stools are dressed in white cloth, and the state sword bearers (afenasoafo)
spread white clay on their arms and necks or draw patterns on their foreheads and
temples to indicate their ceremonial office and spiritual duties. Stoolbearers also whiten
their left hand and put white clay on their eyelids. The left hand, which is normally
associated with body functions, is used to hold the stool on the stoolbearer’s neck and
needs to be symbolically cleansed to hold the king’s stool. The white clay on their eyelids
reflects their bedazzlement by the king’s glory.
During the Odwira ceremony, an annual festival of renewal and ritual cleansing, when
shrines would be freshened, earlier kings remembered, and the nation cleansed, the
Asantehene would first wear a barkcloth (kyenkyen) that was naturally whitegray
reflecting the archaic nature of the ceremony as well as its spiritual function. Later when
addressing the blackened stools of his predecessors, the king is dressed in old dark cloths,
reflecting the presence of the royal dead and the seriousness of ritual offerings made to
them. Afterwards the king wears rich and brightly colored cloths to celebrate and
complete the Odwira ceremony. By these acts, ceremonial sequence is symbolically
marked by chiefs wearing different colored cloths and changing them as new cycles were
initiated.
Red, Russet, and Orange
Today the colors most often seen among the Akan are red, russet or orange hues.
Collectively identified as kobene or kokoo, they also include purple, violet or pink and
others within this range of color. Red-russet colors are themselves ambiguous in
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symbolic association being defined through a number of ceremonial, social, and personal
contexts. Kobene is broadly identified with danger and warfare, blood, anger, heat
(emotion), unrest, melancholy, bereavement and death. It reflects the seriousness of an
occasion and can define a personal state of being or mark a national catastrophe.
Men wear red cloth and smear red clay (ntowma) across their shoulders, arms, and
forehead to indicate defiance and anger. A well-known saying describes this frame of
mind: “M’ani abere” (My eyes are red). This indicates sorrow and anger at the loss of a
family member or the individual’s spirit during a national crisis, such as a call to war. In
the past, combatants in a battle would wear red to reflect the fierceness of the struggle
and their anger. Members of the Akan army’s rear guard (kyidom) were conspicuous by
wearing vermilion or red cloths as they protected the state stools and chiefs who
themselves were dressed in dark brown cloths sometimes stamped with adinkra symbols
(abstract stamped symbols with proverbial cognates).
Funerals
Funerals play an important role in Akan society and life. They are conspicuous in part
due to the prominent play of color of different hued cloths, headdresses, or the markings
found on arms, shoulders, and face displayed by family and lineage relations during
funerary ceremonies. It is in this context that color serves to define kinship and the
various temporal segments of funerary rituals that can extend over a year. Through the
different colored cloths worn at funerals a visual code of relationship to the deceased is
given. Family relations are signified through the red cloths worn identifying members of
the matrilineage (abusua), with black (tuntum) being worn by nonmatrilineal family and
friends. The symbolic appearance of red (kobene) in this usage extends the bond of blood
to both living and dead members of the matrilineage and to distinguish nonblood
relations and other mourners. This is seen in the cloths worn by the matrikin of red or
russet-brown for men, and with women wearing a red upper garment and a black skirt.
Contemporary women’s clothing may be stylish and up-to-date, but it continues to
conform to customary color usage. Funerary cloths worn by men and women may be also
stamped with dark brown adinkra symbols. They will be stamped upon various hued
cloths ranging from blue-black to bright colors depending upon the period of the
mourning ritual and the relation of the mourner to the deceased.
Bands of red cloth worn around the head known as abotiri often have red peppers
placed in them so that both the color and hot taste of the pepper serve to remind the
wearer of their loss. In addition to the red cloths and headdresses, designs known as
kotobirigya are worn by women of the matrilineage and daughters of the deceased.
Painted in a red dye (esono), triangles, semicircles, or simple parallel lines will be applied
on temples, cheeks, and foreheads. Blood relations will also mark their upper bodies with
red clay (ntwuma) in broad wipes of color, known as asafie, placed on the arms,
shoulders, and chest. This use of color symbolically confirms membership in a common
bloodline, the abusua. Another form of cosmetic symbolism is used by women of the
matrikin to indicate their grief, as they will draw a band of shiny black soot encircling the
head at the base of the hair. Known as densikram, it is worn by mature women only. Lips
and eyes are also be blackened in sorrow.
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In the past the head of the deceased might be shaved and three lines of color, red,
black, and white would be drawn on it. Similar lines or daubs of color are found on clay
pots made for the deceased that would be ultimately deposited in a place sacred to the
matrilineage known as esense or the “place of the pots.” These pots, called abusua
kuruwa (clan pots), were venerated representing the individual as a member of the
lineage. This symbolic unity of the matrilineage through the use of color continues
through the various ceremonies of remembrance for the dead throughout the year held at
the esense.
Dark Colors
As noted, the dark colors, black, or brown or a deep blue (birisi) characterized night,
death, sorrow, sadness, bereavement, depression, and seriousness of purpose. Symbolic
transformation through color takes place when a king’s white stool is blackened at the
time of his death. It then is placed in the royal stool house joining those of preceding
kings and where it is also venerated. The stools of previous kings are blackened as a sign
of respect and age and as recognition that they belong to the “other world” of ancestors.
Among the Akan, issues of history and articles of great age are conceived of as being
black. In addition objects taken as spoils of war are blackened and placed in the stool
house near the stool of the king who captured them to honor that king and the nation. The
personal possessions and badges of office of important elders or notables are blackened
and kept in the matrilineage house as objects identified with their office and good works.
Color plays an active symbolic role in Akan political statecraft. As a nonverbal
statement of power relationships, color can symbolically address issues of polity between
states through colors worn by the king or displayed on state umbrellas. When issues of
grave national concern, such as war are to be discussed, the king and other chiefs sitting
in council wear dark brown cloths known as kuntunkuni, a cloth normally worn at funeral
to reflect the solemnity of the occasion. The dark cloth also symbolizes the ultimate
power and authority of the king to act decisively for the state. Correspondingly, a
combination of color and the cognate proverb of an adinkra symbol stamped on the cloth
expresses the position of the state upon an issue. When sitting at court hearing cases, the
king dresses in dark cloth to indicate the seriousness of the issues addressed and his
responsibility to render justice and where necessary assign penalties as judged.
Gold
Gold (sika) as color and material was reserved to the king and those he honored. It had no
absolute value but had great symbolic value indicating richness, royalty, high social
status, wealth, and financial rank. Gold jewelry is never worn at funerals; instead,
wooden carved bracelets are painted with black enamel to reflect the seriousness of the
funeral. Spiritual and symbolic significance is attributed to gold as the king wears round
gold disks (kra sika) that symbolized the purity associated to his soul (kra) with the
subsequent well-being of the nation. Gold was reserved to the Asantehene and only his
wooden stool (dwa) was permitted to have gold medallions or panels attached to it.
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Among the Akan, stools of the queen mother or other lesser kings were limited to silver
attachments; to do otherwise and apply gold without permission was to challenge the
king and the state. Perhaps the most prominent symbolic motif among the Akan is the
Golden Stool of the Akan. Cast in gold, the Golden Stool (Sika Dwa) serves as symbol of
the collective soul of the people, and functions as a locus of political union of those states
that make up the Akan nation.
References
Antubam, K. 1963. Ghana’s Heritage of Culture. Leipzig.
Bellis, J.O. 1982. The “Place of the Pots” in Akan Funerary Custom. Bloomington: African Studies
Program, Indiana University.
Hagan, G.P. 1970. A Note on Akan Color Symbolism. Research Review, 7, no. 1.
Rattray, R.S. 1927. Religion and Art in Ashanti. London.
Reindorf, C.C. 1895. A History of the Gold Coast and Asante. Basel.
Mato, D. 1988, 1991, 1992, 1994. Interviews and Personal Communications collected in Ghana.
DANIEL MATO
See also Beadwork; Body Arts; Cosmology
COMOROS (COMOROS FEDERAL
ISLAMIC REPUBLIC)
Comoros, a tropical country of 714,000 people, consists of four islands located off of
Africa’s southeast coast. Its capital city is Moroni, which has a population of 30,000.
Comoros’ ethnic population consists of Arabs, Africans, and Indians. The major
languages spoken are Shaafi-Islam, Swahili, French, and Arabic. The country is
predominantly Sunni Muslim (86 percent), while the remaining 14 percent are Roman
Catholic.
In 1843, the French laid claim to the Comoran islands. Three of the islands voted for
independence in 1970, but Mayotte chose to stay French. After a coup led by European
mercenaries, Comoros gained its independence from France on July 6, 1975, and
subsequently formed its own Islamic republic. After eight years under one-party rule, the
government returned to a multiparty system in 1990.
Unfortunately, despite such recent reforms, there is still no political stability. At the
time of independence, the United Nations listed Comoros as one of the world’s least
developed nations. Today the islands are still impoverished and 80 percent of the
population is underemployed as subsistence farmers. Adult literacy is approximately 57
percent. Ninety-five percent of the country’s revenue comes from the exportation of
vanilla, cloves, and ylang-ylang, a perfume essence. Tourism and perfume distillation are
also major sources of revenue for Comoros.
JENNIFER JOYCE
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CONCERT PARTIES
Concerts or concert parties are open-air popular theater events performed throughout
rural and urban Ghana by traveling bands of actors and musicians. Concerts creatively
fuse morality play, slapstick comedy, and popular band music; in the 1990s some
attempted at to convert the audience to new forms of Christian faith. The plays, dance,
music, and roadside paintings (that advertise the performance) have a hybrid message
that reflects rapid change and modernity, yet remain rooted in local and traditional
culture. Early influences include Akan tales about the spider trickster hero Ananse,
nativity plays performed at Christian missions, silent films of Charlie Chaplin and Al
Jolson, tap dancing, ragtime, and stand-up comedians of American vaudeville and
“blackface” minstrel shows. The genre reaches back to the early decades of the twentieth
century in the Gold Coast (now Ghana) towns that first acted as a buffer between Europe
and the powerful inland kingdoms and that have a long history of breakaway Christian
churches.
Teacher Yalley is generally said to have performed the first Ghanaian concert in 1918
in English for a small urban educated wealthy elite in Sekondi and Accra. At about the
same time, Bob Ishmael Johnson began to perform at Empire Day celebrations. First as
the “Versatile Eight,” and later in 1930 as the “Two Bobs and the Carolina Girl,” his
program included a short introduction with dance, jokes, and ragtime songs followed by
an hour-long play. The three main characters were the Gentleman, the Lady
Impersonator, and the Joker or “Bob” (named after Bob Johnson), the latter being a
fusion of the mischievous Ananse of Akan folklore, a hero/antihero full of ambition and
folly, and the “blackface” actor of American minstrel shows. They toured rural areas,
added highlife songs in pidgin English and Fanti and attracted a more popular, less
wealthy audience. The plays (only partially scripted) became longer, the number of actors
increased, and by the 1940s they included social and political themes such as the
“Coronation of King George VI” and the “Downfall of Adolf Hitler.” Plays in the 1950s
supported the independence struggle, and some addressed corruption and inefficiency in
high places. By this time the Akan language was used throughout and guitar band
highlife music embellished the play, so that play and music were inseparable. By the
1960s and 1970s concerts were at their height and there were fifty to sixty groups touring
the country (and neighboring countries as well). In the late 1970s and early 1980s, they
dwindled in popularity due largely to economic hardship, government curfew, and
competition from lower-cost video screenings and from “spinners” (traveling high-tech
light shows with recorded rather than live music). Performances in the 1990s appealed to
a young, unsophisticated, semiliterate, working-class constituency of generally rural
individuals, or first generation city dwellers. References to national politics were virtually
absent. Audiences became smaller. Charismatic Christianity had gained in popularity and
opposed dancing and the portrayal of “devils” in the paintings and plays. Because
youngsters liked to dance, concerts that formerly started their play at 11 P.M. and
finished at 3 A.M., now performed music until 1 A.M. and, following an irreverent
comedy interlude, the play itself continued until dawn.
Today, the cast size has increased, but the actors still portray conventional stereotypes
of men and women and the narratives are still framed by the Joker or “Bob.” The comedy
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skit that introduces the play separates it from everyday life, and is broad and coarse with
robustly farcical and antifeminine elements. Much of the humor derives from
incongruities in the use of words or behavior. As the bands tour from one part of Ghana
to another, they adapt the jokes so as to be ethnically specific, but the message is rarely
politically or sexually subversive. There is much audience participation: the audience
cries jeers, applauds, and climbs on stage to give money or candy to the actors.
Concert party painting for City Boys
Band, Int. by Mark Anthony, Ghana,
1994. Play being advertised is “Nea
Onyame Ahyirano No.” 8×8 feet, on
plywood. Photo © Michelle Gilbert.
Concert party painting by Mark
Anthony for City Boys Band play
called “Nea Onyame Ahyirano No,”
Ghana, 1994. 8×8 feet, on plywood.
Photo © Michelle Gilbert.
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The plays, paintings, and music give insight into the local reworking of transnational
media. They depict a world of fantastic experience that is also firmly set in the everyday
life of contemporary (generally rural) Ghana. Fragmented references to Christian,
Islamic, and traditional religious practices coexist, as in everyday life. The plots are linear
but formulaic, with repetitive themes and sometimes as many as twenty scenes. Scenic
breaks are signaled by highlife interludes: the lyrics may or may not comment on the plot.
Although the younger concert bands sing mostly about love and orphans, most concert
plays in the 1990s carried a strong moral message. Common themes include jealousy and
envy, wealth and poverty, co-wife rivalry, orphans, inheritance disputes, chieftaincy
affairs, tensions between good and evil, witchcraft, ancestors, contests between Satan and
traditional deities, and conflict between traditional religions and Christianity. Violence
dramatizes the moral lesson and repetition of themes within a play reinforces the moral
tale. The endings generally offer neat solutions; the evil perpetrator dies and the intended
victim is saved. Concert plays draw on folktale personages such as dwarves, giants, and
gods, as well as stock characters from everyday life such as the lineage elder, queen
mother, chief, spirit medium, Islamic mullah, and Christian priest. Plays in the 1990s
often drew on material from Christian prayer groups, and focused on the competition and
challenge between Christian and traditional religious beliefs and practices.
Since the 1980s, some concert bands have begun to perform regularly on television in
Akan, Ga, and Ewe. The short plays include a few songs, and are far more realistic: they
use female as well as male performers, never use black and white minstrel makeup, and
rarely show local gods. Those performed at the National Theatre in Accra appeal to a
young, middle-class audience. Television audiences include middle-class, middle-aged
Christians who would never go to see a live performance. In the 1990s, some charismatic
churches, such as Kristo Asafo and Power Light, began to do concerts to advertise their
churches. The hour-long church plays, usually included a scene where Satan was defeated
by an angel. By 2000 they were no longer attracting large crowds and ceased to tour
Ghana.
Although concert parties started out as entertainment for the elite, they quickly became
adapted to suit the preferences of poorer rural dwellers. They brought urban attractions
and fashions to remote villagers, and allowed the newly urban audience to reflect on their
previous rural lives and personal morality. By the year 2000, due to competition from low
cost video, television, and spiritualist Churches, only six concert groups groups toured
Ghana.
Concert parties were also performed throughout the 1960s and 1970s in Ewe-speaking
Togo. Borrowed from Ghana, they were a smaller and solely urban phenomena centered
in Lome, and had ceased by the 1980s.
References
Barber, Karen, and John Collins, Alain Ricard, eds. 1997. West African Popular Theatre.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Collins, John. 1994. Highlife Time. Accra: Anansesem Pubs.
Gilbert, Michelle. 1998. Concert Parties: Paintings and Performance. Journal of Religion in Africa
28, no. 1:62–69.
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——. 2000. Hollywood Icons, Local Demons: Ghanaian Popular Paintings by Mark Anthony.
Hartford: Trinity College.
——. 2003. Images choc: peintures-affiches du Ghana/Shocking Images: Ghanaian Painted
Posters. In Ghana hier et aujourd huil Ghana Yesterday und Today, eds. Christiane
Falgayrettes-Leveau and Christiane Owusu-Sarpong. Paris: Musee Dapper.
MICHELLE GILBERT
See also Music: West African Highlife; Performance in Africa
CONGO (REPUBLIC OF THE CONGO)
Located in central Africa, Congo is a tropical country neighbored by Angola, Democratic
Republic of Congo, Central African Republic, Cameroon, Gabon, and the Atlantic Ocean.
For some the country is better known as Congo-Brazzaville, named after its capital and
largest city of a million people. Of the nation’s approximately 3 million people, nearly
half are Kongo (48 percent), 20 percent are Sangha, 17 percent are Teke, and 14 percent
are composed of other smaller groups. The major languages spoken are French, Lingala,
Kikongo, Teke, Sangha, and M’Bochi. Half of the nation’s people are Christian, 48
percent practice traditional indigenous religions, and 2 percent are Muslim.
The French established their control over the Congo in 1882, but did not create a
formal colony until 1910. Due to the colony’s allegiance to General Charles deGaulle- it
was declared capital of the empire and of liberated France from 1940–1944. On August
15, 1960, Congo gained its independence from France after fifty years of colonial rule.
Since 1968, the nation had been ruled as a one-party state by the Marxist-Leninist–
inspired style of the Congolese Workers Party (PCT). In 1990, however, the PCT agreed
to give up its Marxist ideology and one-party system. In 1995, the Government of
National Unity was formed and brought an end to the politically motivated fighting that
had blighted the nation during the late twentieth century. Only 30 years old, Joseph
Kabila became president in January 2001, after his father, Laurent Kabila, was
assasinated. Although a peace agreement was signed in December 2002, there is still very
little peace in the Congo.
Wood, potash, petroleum, and natural gas are Congo’s natural resources. Agricultural
production centers around cocoa, cof-fee, tobacco, palm kernels, sugarcane, rice and
peanuts, while the industrial sector manufactures cement, textiles, and processed
agricultural and forestry goods. Though Congo’s manufacturing sector is small, it has
great potential for growth and should benefit the economy in years to come.
The metropolitan region of Congo’s capital Brazzaville and the nearby former Zaire’s
capital of Kinshasha has long been a great cultural center in central Africa. This region
has produced soukous, a Congolese musical style that has been popularized throughout
Africa, as well as in Tokyo and Paris. Congolese writers have been recognized for their
contributions to public service, as many have used their creativity and knowledge to
educate the public. The renowned Congolese poet and novelist Tchicaya U’Tam’si
worked for UNESCO for many years before his death in 1988.
JENNIFER JOYCE
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CONTEMPORARY BARDS: HAUSA
VERBAL ARTISTS
The Hausa are known throughout much of West Africa as traders and artisans. They have
settled in Ghana, Nigeria, Niger, and Chad, but are usually associated with the Hausa
city-states, such as Kano, in Nigeria. In the earth nineteenth century, the Fulani jihad
(holy war) brought all the Hausa together under Islam and merged the two people in the
cities. Today, the Hausa-Fulani form one of the largest ethnic groups in Nigeria and they
continue to cherish their ancient arts, including music and the verbal arts.
A number of prose forms are usually distinguished in Hausa terminology. The prose
narratives labari and tatsuniya are contrasted as “presumed real” and “fictive” narratives
respectively. While the term tatsuniya predominantly means “traditional tale,” it is
sometimes also used to denote a conundrum or riddle, more often referred to as ka cinci
ka cinci, or “pick up, pick up” which acts both as name conveying the interactive nature
of the genre and as introductory formula. Tatsuniyoyi (pl.) as “tales” refer to
animal/trickster tales, to narratives of “human to human” interaction, and of “human to
supernatural being” interaction. Heroes and villains, larger than life stereotypes, inhabit
the center of each story, predictable in their heroism or their villainy. Conflict or contest
between protagonists is an important characteristic as the tale develops the encounters
and interactions between characters. Discussion of personal emotion or psychological
state is unusual; such dimensions are conveyed primarily through the acting out of
dialogue and action of the characters. The storyteller’s art of “acting out” is focused on
the use of voice and facial expression. Although the character stereotypes may allow the
audience to very quickly grasp the potentials of any particular situation established by the
storyteller, the direction of the interactions of two stereotypes is less predictable.
Outcomes are more in the gift of the tale-teller’s skills. The stereotyped characters of
tales are both human (such as the ill-treated but faithful daughter, the corrupt judge, the
pious cleric, the country bumpkin, the city slicker, the disobedient child, or the arrogant
prince) and animal (such as the hare, jackal, lion, or hyena) as well as liminal characters
such as Dodo (evil spirit/ monster) and Gizo (trickster). Each one among this cast of
characters has an accompanying package of features ranging from aspects of personality,
such as cunning, to manner of speech, such as a lisp in the case of Gizo.
Within short-form verbal arts, karin magana distinguishes proverbs/sayings. The
Hausa term implies folded speech, thereby allusive diction, which requires, on the part of
the listener, interpretation of imagery or secondary reference. A functional distinction
among short-form expressions identifies kirari as epithet, often used in praise, and
habaici as innuendo depending upon the presumed intent of the speaker. Allusive diction
is an integral part of many communicative contexts and while karin magana are
recognized as a distinct form, they constitute the building blocks of other discrete genres
within Hausa folklore.
Rhythmic or nonprose language is generally represented by the term waka which is, in
common parlance, a single term covering both instrumentally accompanied, solo or “lead
and chorus,” oral song, and also another genre: written poetry intoned without
accompaniment. In drawing the distinction in normal Hausa parlance, they would be
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distinguished as waka baka (oral waka) and rubutacciyar waka (written waka.) Song has
been closely associated with praise-singing in traditional aristocratic courts.
“Tied” singers in patron–client relationships with nobles have both sung the praises
and vilified the rivals of their patrons; among the most famous have been Dankwairo,
Jankidi, and Sarkin Tabshi. In the latter half of the twentieth century, the popularity of
singers and their financial independence through the sale of records and tapes and
through TV appearances have allowed them to work as freelance artists, among the most
famous being Mamman Shata and Dan Maraya Jos. The poetrywriting tradition derives
from the Islamic religious jihad of the early nineteenth century when poetry became a
favored vehicle for the reformists’ battle for the hearts and minds of the people. The poets
of that era included a woman scholar and organizer, Nana Asma’u, daughter of the leader
of the jihad, Usman dan Fodio. In the late twentieth century, secular writing has
expanded the range of topics addressed beyond the strictly religious concerns of earlier
years. Well-known modern poets include Akilu Aliyu and Mudi Spikin.
There is a further range of labels for creators of such genres and for other performers.
Mai tatsuniya simply implies storyteller, but the term maroki, literally “one who begs,”
specifically suggests a praise-singer in search of reward for his services; mawaki (one
who sings), on the other hand, could be applied to a singer or a poet. There are further
terms for public entertainers of various kinds, such as yan kama (burlesque players), yan
gambara (rap artists), and yan bori (musicians and performers associated with the spiritpossession cult). Popular culture in Hausa at the beginning of the twenty-first century
presents a dynamic mix covering a variety of oral performances ranging from the earthy,
irreverent rap dialogues of yan gambara as they work the markets of northern Nigeria to
the public manifestation in the modern media—radio and television—of the tied praisesinger perceived as representing cultural “tradition.” At the same time, an explosion of
popular fiction writing during the 1990s has led to an even greater explosion of
commercial Hausa-language video film production, another medium in which notions of
traditional oral culture and its practitioners are embedded. For an introduction to Hausa
folklore, see Ames (1973), Furniss (1996), and Skinner (1969).
References
Ames, D.W. 1973. A Sociocultural View of Hausa Musical Activity. In The Traditional Artist in
African Societies, ed. W.L.D’Azevedo. Bloomington and London: Indiana University Press.
Furniss, G. 1996. Poetry, Prose and Popular Culture in Hausa. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian
Institution Press.
Skinner, A.N., ed. 1969. Hausa Tales and Traditions: An English Translation of “Tatsuniyoyi Na
Hausa,” originally compiled by Frank Edgar. Vol. 1 (1969), London: Frank Cass; Vols. 2 and 3
(1977), Madison: University of Wisconsin Press.
GRAHAM FURNISS
See also Folktales; Medicine: Folk Medicine of the Hausa; West Africa: Overview
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COSMOLOGY
The foundation of traditional African cosmologies is a spiritual view and experience of
life. This view undergirds traditional understanding of being, existence, and the
phenomenal world. This spirit world consists of the Supreme Being, the deities or
divinities, ancestors, various spirit powers, the human being and nature. This is
particularly the case in West Africa, which forms the focus of this article, especially the
Akan and Ewe ethnic groups of Ghana.
Supreme Being
In Africa, there is belief in a Supreme Being (God), who is the ultimate eternal source
and ground of being. Each ethnic group has a variety of names and appellations for the
Supreme Being. Some of these are Onyame (Akan), Mawu (Ewe), Chukwu (Igbo), and
Olodumare (Yoruba) (Mbiti, 1970). The Supreme Being is creator and sustainer of the
world and is believed to be essentially spirit in nature, absolutely potent, and morally
pure. Various attributes, names, proverbs, symbols, and greetings reveal how Africans
conceive this being as a spiritual reality that not only gives life but also influences it in
diverse ways. The Akan proverb “No one points out Onyame to a child” underscores the
fact that the knowledge of God is believed to be innate to the African.
Though all beings derive their existence from the Supreme Being, they vary in terms
of degrees of spiritual essence, potency, and morality. The deities and ancestors occupy
an important position between humans and the Supreme Being. In traditional belief, they
also activate and influence the phenomenal world in various ways. Thus to ignore their
influence will amount to operating in the world at only one level of reality, that is, the
material and ignoring the real essence that underpins the world which is the spiritual.
Dieties
The deities constitute a group of spirit beings known by various traditional names such as
Obosom (Akan), Trowo (Ewe), Vodu (Ewe/Fon), Orisha (Yoruba), and so on. They are
also referred to in various writings on African traditional religions as the lesser gods or
divinities. They are believed to possess various powers delegated to them by the Supreme
Being for the purpose of sustaining the world and human community. There are
multitudes of such deities varying in number and function from society to society across
Africa. Some key deities are believed to inhabit nature and control its functions. For
example, most African peoples believe that the earth, bodies of water, thunder, and so
forth operate under the aegis of deity. The earth spirit (known as Asase Yaa or Asase
Afua among the Akan), normally female, is responsible for fertility and the maintenance
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of moral order. Acts such as homicide and immorality are considered to be particularly
abhorrent to her.
Some deities are worshiped by various units of traditional social structure such as the
family, clan, ethnic group, and communities such as villages and towns. These deities
guide, guard, and protect the life of the members of the community. An example of such
deities is the titular deities of the Akan. They are the deities of the major bodies of water
that are within the geographical area occupied by the Akan such as the rivers Tano, Bea,
and Lake Bosomtwe. They also serve as the patron deities of the patrilineal clans of the
Akan (Busia, 1976, 197ff). Among the Yoruba some of the most important deities,
known as Orisha, are apotheosis of primeval ancestors and are linked with the ethnic
group as well as nature. For example, Shango, the deity of thunder and lightning, is
believed to be an ancestral ruler of the Yoruba Kingdom of Oyo. Some of their deities are
also patrons of occupational and professional guilds. For example, Ogun, the ancestral
ruler of life in Nigeria who is the god of war, is also the patron of metallurgy (Awolalu,
1979, 33ff).
Allegiance to a deity, especially one of the minor ones, is however dependent on
consistency in role performance. A deity that is unable to serve its adherents puts its
potency in doubt. African people often neglect to serve a deity who no longer serves their
needs effectively. Similarly new deities are adopted if found to be more potent and
benign. Also though conceived as spirit, the deities are conceived in more
anthropomorphic terms than the Supreme Being. They marry, have children, travel, eat,
sleep, and so forth. Often representative images are made of these deities, however, this is
not normally the case with the Supreme Being.
Ancestors
Though the deities mediate between the Supreme Being and humans, the ancestors
occupy a more intimate position as mediators between their descendants and all other
spirit beings. They are closer to humans than the deities because of their filial bonds with
descendants. Ancestors are normally deceased progenitors who led exemplary lives and
distinguished themselves as elders within the community. At death they are believed to
assume a special spiritual potency that enables them to serve as intermediaries between
their living descendants and the spiritual world. Some call them the living dead (Mbiti
1990). Ancestral beliefs indicate a strong belief in the continuance of life after death, and
the ancestral status itself symbolizes the ideal afterlife attainment.
Ancestors wield influence on their living descendants as guides and guards of moral
conduct who seek their welfare and protect them. The latter role of protection is
important because of the strong belief in a range of spirit powers (ranging from moral
through amoral to evil spirit powers) that adversely influence the lives of the humans.
Powers such as Ekwensu and Akologeli of the Igbo of Nigeria and Sasabonsa of
Ghanaian lore, and the power of witchcraft are normally acquired and used by humans
mainly to hurt fellow human beings. For humans have the power of asserting their
spiritual potency destructively against fellow humans through such powers as witchcraft
and sorcery. These negative powers often act capriciously, though they find immoral
persons easy prey.
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Achieving Personhood
The human being, therefore, encounters positive and negative spiritual powers within the
world. These powers influence human life because the human being is a unique being
created out of physical and spiritual elements. Apart from sharing the general spiritual
power that activates the universe known as Sunsum (Akan) and Gbogbo (Ewe), each
person has a special and direct spiritual source in the Creator who is the soul (OkraAkan;
Kla [Ga], Luvo [Ewe], Ori [Yoruba], Chi [Igbo]). The importance of this belief that an
individual derives his being from the Supreme Being is summed up in the Akan proverb:
“Every person is a child of Onyame, no one is a child of the earth!” Thus though the earth
symbolizes motherhood and fertility, she is not the ultimate source of life.
A person’s phenomenal existence begins when the Supreme Being blesses the sexual
union of a man and woman with the life force or soul. Life is the greatest gift of the
Supreme Being and to live it to its fullness is the goal of African peoples. Traditional
prayer requests are normally summed up in the wish to have abundant life known as
Dagbe (Ewe) and Sunkwa (Akan) (Gaba 1997, 99). This implies a life endowed with
good health, children, wealth and material prosperity, and peace and success in all one’s
endeavors.
Though these goals may appear mundane, there is a subtler level of attaining fullness
of life. Material success is normally seen as a reflection of subtler spiritual attainment.
This subtler level involves attainment of personhood. To be born human does not mean to
be born a person. Maturation into personhood is a moral journey in African cosmology.
The individual’s growth is judged by the virtues he inculcates and exhibits in life. Virtues
such as humility, hospitality, piety, patience, hard work, and honesty among others are
highly appreciated. When a person matures along this line the Ewe say of such a person,
“Ame Nutoe,” and the Akan, “Oye Nipa,” meaning he or she is human, that is, a real
person. Otherwise the opposite would be said, and the person in question may even be
called an animal (Gyekye 1992, 109).
The Ewe also call such persons Bometsila. Bome, in Ewe cosmology, is a pre-earth
spirit dwelling place. Bometsila literally means one who has remained in this prenatal
spirit realm. To call someone Bometsila is to imply that the person, although born into
this physical world (kodzogbed), shows no growth or development in conduct. It means
that the person has not matured or realized his human potentials on earth, that the person
leads a dehumanized way of life, a life not rooted in the ethics of the community.
Concern about life, however, is not restricted to the ethics of interhuman relationships.
Traditional cosmology is incomplete without the realms of nature that constitute the
theater of human life and existence. Nature originates from the Supreme Being and is
activated by spirit force from the Supreme Being. Its elements are therefore avenues for
the manifestation of a variety of spiritual forces. Nature is also seen as a means of
understanding and conceptualizing the Supreme Being (Mbiti 1990, 48ff). It is
traditionally conceived as an indicator of the state of human relationship to the Him.
When nature becomes destructive to humans through epidemics or floods, then it
indicates His displeasure. Otherwise nature sustains life, nourishing it with food and
water. It is also a source of healing and cures as traditional pharmacopoeia draws mainly
on herbs, roots, and animal life. Various taboos relating to nature serve as a source of
moral enforcement contributing to social cohesion. Elements of nature are also symbols
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of social groupings. Animals serve as Totems for the Akan matrilineal groups for
instance while as stated earlier water bodies associated with deity serve as patrons of the
patrilineal groups.
Various aspects of nature, especially the animal world is the source of proverbs that
form the traditional font of wisdom that guide sound and proper conduct. Nature is
therefore a religious universe, an experiential educator that people must be related to in
reverence, kinship, affinity, and in symbiotic relationship.
Thus the human journey in life is a journey of moral and spiritual maturation. The
Akan refer to it as Obra and the Ewe as Kodzogbe. The latter literally means “the place or
day of judgment.” Eventually, when death comes, the soul goes to the Supreme Being, so
that it may be held accountable for its life on earth; the spirit finds rest with its ancestors
if it is deemed worthy of a place among them.
References
Awolalu, J.O. 1979. Yoruba Belief and Sacrificial Rites. London: Longman.
Busia, K.A. 1976. The Ashanti. In African Worlds: Studies in the Cosmological Ideas and Social
Values of African Peoples, ed. Daryll Forde. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Ephirim-Donkor, Anthony. 1997. African Spirituality. On Becoming Ancestors. Trenton, N.J.:
African World Press.
Gaba, C.R. 1997. The Religious Life of the People. In A Handbook on Eweland. Vol. 1, The Ewes
of Southeastern Ghana. Accra, Ghana: Woeli.
Gyekye, Kwame. 1992. Person and Community in African Thought. In Person and Community:
Ghanaian Philosophical Studies I, eds. Kwasi Wiredu and Kwame Gyekye. Washington, D.C.:
The Council for Research in Values and Philosophy.
——. 1996. African Cultural Values. An Introduction. Philadelphia Pa. and Accra, Ghana: Sankofa.
Idowu, Bolaji. 1973. African Traditional Religion. A Definition. London: SCM Press.
Mbiti, J.S. 1970. Concepts of God in Africa. London: SPCK.
——. 1990. African Religions and Philosophy, 2d ed. London: Heinemann.
Opoku, Kofi Asare. 1978. West African Traditional Religion. Singapore: FEP International Private.
ELOM DOVLO
See also Astronomy; Cardinal Directions; Religion: African Traditional Religion
COTE D’IVOIRE (REPUBLIC OF COTE
D’IVOIRE)
Cote d’Ivoire (Ivory Coast) is a tropical country that lies along the Gulf of Guinea on the
west coast of Africa. It lies east of Liberia and Guinea, south of Mali and Burkina Faso,
and west of Ghana. Abidjan, a main port and Cote d’Ivoire’s largest city, is also the
country’s capital and once known as “the Paris of West Africa.” Cote d’Ivoire’s 16
million people comprise four major ethnic groups: the Baule, Bete, Senufo, and Malinke.
More than sixty languages are spoken, however, the major languages are French, Dyula,
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Agni, Kru, Senufo, and Malinke. The majority of the population is Muslim (60 percent),
while 28 percent practice traditional indigenous religions. The remaining population is
Christian (12 percent).
After sixty-seven years of French colonization, Cote d’Ivoire won its independence on
April 7, 1960, founding a republic with a president and a legislature called the National
Assembly. Cote d’Ivoire’s first president, Felix Houphouet-Boigny, died in 1993 and was
succeeded in 1995 by Henri Konan Bedie. This administration quickly became known for
its corruption and for the concept of “Ivoirianity,” by which Bedie tried to prevent
political opposition. After decades of being Africa’s most open nation, encouraging
thousands of workers from other countries, this policy demanded both parents be Ivoirian
for one to participate in elections. Bedie was overthrown in a military coup in 1999. The
elections of 2000 were strongly contested and the subsequent period of unrest finally
deteriorated into a full-blown civil war pitting, in very general terms, northern peoples
against those in the south.
During its first twenty years of independence, Cote d’Ivoire had one of the highest
economic growth rates in the world, as the nation was the world’s leading producer of
cocoa and a major producer of coffee. Yamoussoukro, the home village of HouphouetBoigny and what is to become the country’s new capitol, is the site of the largest
Christian basilica in the world. The structure, modeled after Saint Peter’s in Rome, was
built during more prosperous economic times and was a gift to the pope from HouphouetBoigny. In the late twentieth century years Cote d’Ivoire has suffered an economic
downturn, primarily due to decreased revenue from cocoa and coffee, however, the
country is still one of the most prosperous in Africa.
Cote d’Ivoire is renowned for its traditional arts, as well as contemporary Westerninfluenced artists. The woodcarvings of the Baule, Senufo, and Dan peoples are treasured
in the world’s museums. Music and dance, woven textiles, and ceramics are other
important artistic traditions that have thrived in Cote d’Ivoire. Among the many popular
Ivoirian singers, Alpha Blondy is the best known internationally.
JENNIFER JOYCE
CROWLEY, DANIEL J. (1921–1998)
Daniel J.Crowley received his doctorate in anthropology from Northwestern University
in 1956, where he was mentored by pioneering Africanist scholars Melville J. Herskovits
and William R.Bascom. Focusing at first on the cultures of the Caribbean, Crowley
undertook a study of the oral traditions that he encountered on New Providence Island in
the Bahamas and eventually presented his findings in I Could Talk Old Story Good:
Creativity in Bahamian Folklore (1966), a volume still hailed as a pioneering work of
folktale scholarship. Like many of the Northwestern graduates of his era, Crowly was
keenly interested in the processes of cultural change and the impact of contemporary
conditions on the received patterns of tradition. Consequently, in his research, the
dynamic behaviors of narrators as they attempted to keep their stories fresh and exciting
for their audiences were highlighted.
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Crowley’s studies in the West Indies earned him a brief teaching appointment at the
University College of the West Indies in Port of Spain, Trinidad. During his tenure, he
experienced a transformative encounter with the famous Trinidadian celebration of
carnival. This annual celebration, an exciting fusion of music, song, dance, theater,
costume, and parades, so fascinated Crowley that for the rest of his life he investigated
the event not only on various islands in the West Indies but also in Brazil, Bolivia,
Senegal, Guinea-Bissau, and Goa. The “carnival volume” of the Caribbean Quarterly,
which was edited by Crowley in 1956, is still acknowledged as the foundational work for
all students of this traditional festival.
Crowley turned his attention to Africa in 1960, when he traveled to what is now
Democratic Republic of the Congo to analyze the art of the Chokwe people in the
Katanga (now shaba) province. Although a civil war would cut short his planned
research, he was still able to conduct many in-depth interviews with a wide range of
artisans including potters, carvers, and weavers, and to collect more than eight hundred
examples of their work. His field investigations on artists’ lives would later be
complimented by a long series of studies on contemporary marketing practices for
indigenous art in various African countries. Appearing regularly in the magazine African
Arts from 1970 through 1985, his reports would eventually expand beyond Africa to
include the native arts of the Pacific, Southeast Asia, South America, and the circumpolar
regions.
Because he was eager to embrace all the world’s cultures as his topic of study,
Crowley was an energetic traveler whose collective journeys would encircle the globe at
least nine times. But within the broad scope of his scholarship, the peoples of Africa and
the African diaspora were his foremost concern. He never forgot Herskovits’s assertion
that racist thinking in the United States and Europe had denied Africans and their
descendants recognition for their impressive history of cultural achievements. Crowley
set as his chief goal the investigation of African and African American art, in both its
visual and verbal modes, to help ensure that their history would not become merely a past
denied.
References
Crowley, Daniel J. 1956 Caribbean Quarterly (carnival issue), 4, nos. 3 and 4.
——. 1961. Folklore Research in the Congo, Journal of American Folklore, 60, no. 294:457–60.
——. 1962. Negro Folklore: An Africanist’s View. Texas Quarterly, 5:65–71.
——. 1966. I Could Talk Old Story Good: Creativity in Bahamian Folklore. Folklore Series, No.
17. Berkeley: University of California Press.
——. 1970. The Contemporary-Traditional Art Market in Africa. African Arts, 4:43–9, 80.
——. 1973. Aesthetic Value and Professionalism in African Art: Three Cases from the Katanga
Chokwe. In The Traditional Artist in African Societies, ed. Warren L. d’Azevedo. Bloomington:
Indiana University Press.
——. 1999. The Sacred and the Profane in African and African-Derived Carnivals. Western
Folklore 58:223–28.
——, ed. 1977. African Folklore in the New World. Austin: University of Texas Press.
Tokofsy, Peter, ed. 1999. Studies of Carnival in Memory of Daniel J.Crowley. Western Folklore,
58, nos. 3 and 4.
JOHN MICHAL VLACH
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See also Caribbean Verbal Arts; Carnivals and African American Cultures;
Central African Folklore: Overview
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D
DANCE: OVERVIEW WITH A FOCUS
ON NAMIBIA
Dance in Africa is a social activity, something performed in a specific environment and
having purpose and meaning. Both overt and covert meanings and messages are
conveyed and confirmed by means of dance performances. Within the immense diversity
of dancing in Africa, it is important to remember that much of the continent follows
global contemporary dance styles, although some of these are also regional and peculiar
to clubs and night spots of Africa. The dances discussed in this entry will, however, focus
on dance traditions that form part of the African heritage, but are still contemporary in
that they are constantly evolving and adapting to changing circumstances through
performance.
The complexity and ephemeral character of dance demands a holistic approach.
Looking only at the movements, actions, and style of the dance would convey an
impoverished image, as the environment, in combination with the actions and reactions of
dancers as well as onlookers, tells us what is important and gives an inkling why.
In much of Africa there are multiple words for dance, but these often have several
meanings and associations. Typically, there might be one word that denotes a complete
event, including music, texts, meaning, purpose, and the movements. In most of Africa,
the dance is not conceptualized separately from the music. The rhythms of the dance
dictate the musical rhythm, and the social context provides the need and function. Song,
dance, and the playing of musical instruments together form an integrated whole in most
African dances. This connectiveness is strengthened and supported by the accessible
nature of participation for members of the community, except in the case of dances
limited to specific societies or genders. It is common that dances relate to specific events
important to the particular society, including rituals such as celebrations, seasonal events,
rites de passage, and also recreation. For this reason, dance is filled with meaning.
Dances are sometimes the public face of rituals or activities that are otherwise private or
secret, for example, circumcision (mukanda of Mbwela in Angola, onyando of Ovazimba
in Namibia), initiation, healing, or transformation ceremonies.
Dances reflect and respond to societal structures relating to status, gender, age, clan,
and class. Within the dance, individuals negotiate their social place in a bodily statement
of performance quality and by applying the societal rules for the dance. Hence, the order
in which people may perform, and exclusions from the dance are two of the indications of
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societal structure. Certain dances, such as ekofo dances in the Congo, are limited to those
who have been initiated into the ekofo society and might involve payments to elders of
that society. But dances also provide an important means of communication between
people and their ancestral spirits and/or god. For this reason there are a great variety of
dances that involve trance or spiritual possession, for example, n/om (healing) dances of
Ju/hoansi, the arub (healing) dance of Damara, and malombo of Vhavenda.
Dances in most parts of West, Central, and East Africa are integrally related, if not
dictated to by the drum, and might be danced either by all ordinary people who know
them, or by “specialists,” such as shaman or elite societies, for example, the Masques de
Sagesse (Cote d’Ivoire) or Nyau (Malawi). Many of these dances are performed as
masks, some of which are quite spectacular, such as the Dogon Great Masks (Mali), the
bodyconcealing masks of Senufo (Cote d’Ivoire), or Nkongela (Zambia), or Mgbula
(Nigeria) dancers. Recreational dances are less formal and might also involve large
groups of people performing simultaneously. In Namibia, Botswana, and southern
Angola, it is more common that individuals, or two or three persons, enter the dance,
play, and return to their positions in the circle so that the next might enter and play.
Set choreographic patterns, around which variations are possible, appear everywhere.
Other dances, and especially individual dances, allow more space for improvisation, but
always within a given cultural framework. This framework dictates the “rules” for the
dance in terms of modality (lines, circles, singles, groups, etc.), participation and
exclusions, event, place and time, components, and relation to music.
Dances in Africa are often recognized by the body stance from which movements
commence and return. This is referred to as “basic earth” position (Mans 1997), the
“natural bends” (Dagan 1997), or “dooplé” (Tiérou, 1992). Dancers place their feet flat,
about hip-width apart, knees slightly bent, torso inclined forwards (in varying degrees);
the head might incline to-wards the ground or upwards or sideways. This stance promotes
balance, allows free movement of shoulders, hips, and pelvis, as well as forward and
backward movements on the feet. It also provides a good starting position from which to
propel elevations. A further common body element is the inclination to a free articulation
of the various parts of the body in relation to one another—whether it involves rotation of
the shoulders, hip and pelvic contractions or vibrations, or leg and arm articulations.
Movement components vary diversely across the continent, but again, one of common
factors that emerges is the generally close connection between feet and ground and the
often downwards (into the earth) motion, described in stamps, swishes, hops, heel and toe
thumps, accentuated with downward head and arm motions. These components are
closely related to the aesthetics of the culture and often provide a focal point for dancers
and onlookers. For example, certain dances involve mainly shoulder movements, with
very little foot or arm work. All attention is aimed at these shoulder movements, and a
good dancer is judged by the correctness, subtlety, and control displayed in this small
area of the body.
Within most African cultures, custom dictates that circles are preferred to straight
lines. Thus, the modalities of dance organization also involve circles, even circles within
circles. This is confirmed by Tiérou (1992). In some dances, for example, Namibian /gais
(Damara), the dancers form a long, snaking line that performs s-shapes around the seated
singers. However, lines are not unknown and are seen, for example, in the Namibian
harvest dance epera (Kwangali) or Tanzanian mganda military dances.
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Meanings and Messages in Namibian Dances
Namibia is a large, arid, and lightly populated country on the southwestern side of Africa,
north of South Africa, and south of Angola. It has been at different times a German and
British colony, and was later occupied by South Africa. The population is made up of
Khoekhoe-speaking people (e.g., Nama, Damara, and Haiom), different San (Bushman)
language groups (e.g., Ju/
, !Kung, Kxoe, Nharo, and Khomani), different Bantuspeaking groups (e.g., Ovaherero, Owambo, Vakwangali, Valozi, Batswana,
Hambukushu, Vasambyu, Vagciriku, and Ovazimba), and European-based language
groups (e.g., German, Afrikaans, English, and Portuguese). The country is, therefore,
linguistically, culturally, and musically diverse. It has only been politically independent
since 1990. Because of its occupation by South Africa until the end of twentieth century,
very little research was undertaken on Namibian folklore, particularly dance. Four broad
categories of Namibian dance are discussed here:
Namibian Dances of Nonritual, Playing Character.
This is the most common genre of dance in the country. Movements and music differ,
greatly, however, from area to area. These dances are played for mainly for
entertainment, but some are specific to events. For example, okuzana pokati—literally, to
play between upper and lower torso—is only performed by Ovazimba mothers during
girls’ first menstruation ceremony, and uudhano wopankondjelo (Owambo) always
contains liberation texts. But the basic dance structure, the rules for playing, and the
musical structure remain true to the form in that culture. Some dance-play is genderspecific. While there are several reasons for this, one influence has been the migrant labor
practice, taking men away from their communities for extended periods. This has
influenced the participation and occurrence of dances and the character of movements. It
is only in affected areas that women play the drums and dance with the same “horn”—
shaped arms as men (see discussion of meanings below).
Dances with Ritual Connections.
Much of Namibia’s dance heritage is based on ritual dances and ritualized movements.
Over time, many of these have declined in importance, for example, initiation,
circumcision, and healing dances. Where dances have been retained, they have taken on a
different character, namely, that of social entertainment. Therefore, many of the dances
that were originally ritual dance are now entertainment dance or play. Most of the rituals
that involved dance were life-stage transformations, such as the girls’ traditional wedding
or coming-out ceremony (ohango, efundula) and boys’ circumcision (onyando, tcoqma).
As these events have become quite rare, some of the songs and dances have been
transformed in terms of meaning (not structure) and are now danced on less serious
occasions or re-created at cultural festivals.
A more commonly practiced category of ritual dance is a healing, trance, and
possession dance. These dances are part of the heritage throughout the country, but take
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place mainly in the northern and eastern regions. In Bantu-speaking cultures, healings are
conducted by one or more specialist healers who are often also known for their dancing
skills. In the Caprivi region, such healing dances are performed throughout the night, and
include a nondancing period of divination, followed by a curing, which again involves
dance. Further south, Ju’hoansi, !Kung, and Kxoe people dance their communal healings
very regularly, even fortnightly. In these societies, healers are those who are able to feel
and control the rising and boiling of the n/om (the supernatural energy that rises within
the body of the healer as s/he enters trance). Several might dance, and, in trance,
communicate with the spirit world. This experience can be very painful and dangerous
for the shaman, should he or she get lost and not find a way back. For this reason, they
are carefully observed in their dance by the singers and assisted where necessary. In the
Damara arub healing dance, shamans are given the ability to communicate with spirits in
a dream. Each shaman in the dance sings his/her own song for this purpose. A shaman
might heap hot ash and burning coals onto his or her lap and head when the pain of
possession strikes.
Formalized Movements with Ritual Connections.
Many rituals involve movement actions that are named as a genre, yet are not considered
dance by the people. On the birth of a male baby or twins, when a brave deed has been
done, when a lion has been killed, or when a daughter has undergone ritual
transformation, men might perform high, stylized leaps, dodges, and poses with the
waving or throwing of a spear. This is performed with much excitement, and although
women may not perform these movements, they ululate in encouragement. In other cases,
men perform movements with a military quality. They follow the instructions and
movements of a leader, moving forwards or backwards as a group, while responding to
his shouted instructions with loud, concerted shouts. They might even wear a military
uniform and perform marching movements, but with many African additions that add
flavor and humor to the performance.
Formalized Nonritual Movements.
This category includes movements that might or might not be performed with song, but
are usually considered work, not music nor dance. When the fields are tilled or the
harvest is winnowed in a communal effort, there are songs and synchronized rhythmic
movements that ease the task. This is also the case with the shaking of the milk calabash,
the pounding of millet in the mortar, or the grinding of ochre or maize on a rock
(although the latter would be an individual effort). Songs might have encouraging texts
along the lines of, “Let’s work together and finish this task,” or they might praise family
lineage or cattle.
Because of the prevalence of pastoral cultures in Namibia, it is not surprising to find
that this occupation is so prominently displayed in dances. In dance-play such as
ondjongo (Ovahimba), omutjopa and onkankula (Ovazimba), and outjina (Ovaherero),
ownership of cattle is celebrated. The songs praise not only family lineage, but also the
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cattle of one’s ancestors, even the place where cattle stay and grow fat. This is
concretized in dance movements, where arms are raised to resemble large-horned
animals. In certain cases, a man may crouch on all fours, stamping his feet to raise dust,
while the woman dances around him with a light touch on his head to “control” him. In
onkankula (a sitting dance for men), the main aim of the dance is cattle praise. Individual
male animals are danced in the owner’s arm movements. Its characteristics—herd
leadership, a limp, or strangely shaped horns—are imitated in the arm and torso
movements, while the feet of the performer stamp and lift high in a regular rhythmic
pattern. Everybody claps their hands in the same rhythmic pattern until a new player
begins, or somebody interjects with a praise song.
In other dances, song texts do not necessarily talk about cattle, but the messages
remain implicit in arm movements. This is the case in ekoteko a Ngandjera dance for
mothers of girls entering the “traditional wedding” transformation (ohango). In days past,
it was possible for several hundred girls of marriageable age to participate in this weeklong event. The girls completed preliminary rituals, such as being presented to the king or
chief of the area, being anointed at the place where they stayed in daytime isolation under
supervision of the “master of ceremonies.” At night, however, there were gatherings in
front of their living area, and here dancing took place in the company of relatives, friends,
and prospective husbands. It was here that mothers would perform ekoteko, while brides
performed other dances. In ekoteko two dancers usually take turns, while other
participants stand in a circle surrounding them, singing and clapping their hands.
Dancers’ arms are raised in two horns, and they move around one another in small circles
while performing rapid stamping sequences with their feet. These dances are still played
today even though ohango is now a very rare occurrence.
By contrast, in epera (Vakwangali) it is the male dancer’s arms that are raised in a
metaphor of the bull, symbolizing virility and protection of the women with whom he is
dancing. Interestingly, these horn-shaped arm positions are rarely seen in the dances of
people whose main economic activity is the raising of goats or pure agriculture.
Among the Ju/’hoansi, animals are danced in a different way. Animals and their spirits
form an important part of the Ju/’hoan cosmology, each having a different spirit and
power. The eland, in particular, is an animal with immense spiritual meaning, so too
djxàní tcxáí (the eland dance). It is not surprising, therefore, that Ju/’hoan dances (and
their musical repertoires) are assigned animal names, with a few exceptions. Hence there
are Eland, Giraffe, Elephant and Springbok musical repertoires among others. These may
only be performed in certain groupings, and custom prescribes the repertoires to be
performed to ensure a successful hunt or to celebrate a successful hunt. Some are
performed for healing purposes (n/om tzisi) and others for important life stage events (see
Olivier 1997 for musical analyses). In this way, it can also be said that Ju/’hoansi are
dancing their animals.
At times, societies transmit educative messages to members. These are captured within
the dance itself in the form of mimed actions and explained in the texts of songs. For
example, in Namibia’s northwest, along the edge of the Namib desert, there is an area
with several good fountains surrounded by high mountains. This isolated community
embraces several cultures. One of these, the Nama people, performs dances accompanied
by music played by a flute ensemble. One of the songs tells the story of a goat thief in the
community. The dancers “capture” a flautist, tie a scarf around his neck, and graphically
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demonstrate how the thief is hanged. There is no doubt about the warning in this
portrayal!
On a lighter note, yet strangely disturbing, is the enactment of a leopard in the /gais
dance. The dancer leaves the line of dancing men and turns into a leopard, moving on all
fours with stealth among the singers. The “hunters” stalk and eventually corner the
leopard, sending in a dog (also a dancer) and men with sticks and spears. The killing is
explicitly portrayed, yet the rhythm and flow of the dance are never disturbed. Today, a
leopard hunt would be fairly uncommon, and children watch this dance with large eyes
and nervous excitement.
Conclusion
The above discussion has not covered all Namibian dances. Often, Namibian dances are
also meant to convey messages about themes such as family relations, societal mores,
praise and thanks, militancy and battle readiness, courtship, and peace and reconciliation.
All of these are found in instances of Namibian dance. Clearly, the medium is considered
a potent form of communication and an appropriate vehicle for expressing serious
themes. In this context, dance is far more than mere entertainment.
References
Asante, K.W., ed. 1996. African Dance. An Artistic, Historical and Philosophical Inquiry. Trenton,
N.J.: Africa World Press.
Dagan, E. A., ed. 1997. The Spirit’s Dance in Africa. Evolution, Transformation and Continuity in
Sub-Sahara. Montreal: Galerie Amrad African Arts Publications.
Hanna, J.L. 1987. To Dance is Human: A Theory of Nonverbal Communication. Chicago: Chicago
University Press.
Katz, R., M.Biesele, and V.St. Denis. 1997. Healing Makes Our Hearts Happy. Spirituality &
Cultural Transformation among the Kalahari Jul’ hoansi. Rochester, Vt.: Inner Traditions.
Mans, M.E. 1997. Namibian Music and Dance as Ngoma in Arts Education. Ph.D. dissertation,
University of Natal.
Olivier, E. 1994. Musical Repertoires of the Ju/’hoansi: Identification and Classification.
Proceedings of the Meeting Khoisan Studies: Multidisciplinary Perspectives. Cologne: Rüdiger
Köppe Verlag.
Tiérou, A. 1992. Dooplé. The Eternal Law of African Dance. Choreography and Dance Studies
Vol. 2. Switzerland: Harwood Academic Publishers.
MINETTE MANS
See also Masks and Masquerades; Music; Southern African Folklore: Overview
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DECORATED VEHICLES (FOCUS ON
WESTERN NIGERIA)
Public transport vehicles in Nigeria are frequently decorated with vividly painted designs
and written messages. This art form seemed to emerge along with sign painting and
popular literature, often referred to as “Onitsha market literature” (cheaply printed novels
and chap books offering advice on all aspects of life). While these forms demonstrate an
attraction to printed words, they still rely largely on oral tradition and local folklore.
These vehicle inscriptions are derived from every conceivable source, from traditional
proverbs and adages to advertising slogans and religious phrases. Most of the following
were recorded from “mamy wagons” in Lagos in the 1940s and 1950s. Mamy wagons are
trucks that have been converted into roofed, but open-sided, buses. The decorative
tradition is also employed on minivans and taxis. The sayings are painted on the front
board above the cab, along the sides, or on the rear gate.
The themes developed on the sides of trucks, minivans, and taxis—sometimes in large
mobile murals, but also in small scenes—are derived from a wide variety of popular
culture sources. Films provide familiar heroes and scenes (Chinese “Kung Fu” movies
are favorites in Nigeria). Animals are usually ferocious, seldom comical, and never
“cute,” although sometimes creatures of beauty are used, such as birds. While most of the
examples cited here reflect Christian Yoruba traditions, very similar adages citing Allah
and seeking his protection (usually written in Arabic) are also seen.
Truck and taxi drivers are engaged in a difficult business and always seek spiritual
protection, guidance, and aid. In addition to the prayers and blessings written on the
outside of their vehicles, protective amulets and medicines are often hung or hidden in
vehicles in order to protect passengers, avoid accidents, prevent police bribery, and
reward hard work. The adages and images decorating the outside of the vehicles continue
this function. Ogun is honored by many Yoruba drivers; he is the orisha of iron.
Decorated vehicles are found worldwide, and include everything from elaborately
embellished bicycles to animal carts, skate boards to motorcycles, sixteen-wheel trucks to
wheelchairs. The traditions introduced in this entry find intriguing correspondence in
Haiti, which has a strong Yoruba heritage; thus, decorated vehicles join other African
American artistic expressions.
Here are a few Yoruba examples, grouped loosely by topic:
Religious Instructions and Inspirational Messages
1. Oba Bi Olorun Kosi
(There is no King like God)
2. Anu Oluwa Po
(The Compassion of the Lord is Plenty)
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3. Oluwa ni oluso-agutan mi
(The Lord is my Shepherd)
4. Olorunsogo Transport Service
(God’s Created Glory Transport Service)
5. Bami gberu mi, Oluwa
(Help me to carry my load, oh Lord)
6. Gba oro mi ro, Oluwa Transport
(Accept my problem and consider it, Oh Lord)
7. Fi mi lokan Ba le.
(Give me peace of mind)
Metaphorical Inscriptions
1. Leke leke
(White Egret)
2. Adaba Konko
(Tiny Dove)
3. Things Fall Apart [title of Chinua Achebe’s first novel]
4. Aiyekoto
(The World Dislikes Truth)
Compliments to Family Members
1. Ola-Iya
(Success Due to Mother)
2. Ola Egbon
(Success due to senior brother)
3. Agborondun Bi Iya Kosi
(No one cares like Mother)
Humorous Expressions
1. Olobe Lo Loko
(The woman who owns the soup pot owns the husband)
2. Man Must Whack!
(We humans must strive to eat) [pidgin English expression]
3. To Be a Man Is Not Easy [a popular Igbo saying]
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References
Cosentino, Donald. 1988. Divine Horsepower. African Arts 21:3.
Lawunyi, Olatunde Bayo. 1977. The World of the Yoruba Taxi Driver. In Readings in African
Popular Culture, ed. Karin Barber, pp. 146–51. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Pritchett, Jack. 1979. Nigerian Truck Art. African Arts 12, no. 2: 27–31.
Thompson, Robert Farris. 1996. Tap-Tap, Fula-Fula, Kia-Kia: The Haitian Bus in Atlantic
Perspective. African Arts 29:2.
AKINSOLA AKIWOWO
See also Popular Culture
DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC OF CONGO
(FORMERLY REPUBLIC OF ZAIRE)
Located in Central Africa, Democratic Republic of Congo is an equatorial country
bordered by Angola, Zambia, Tanzania, Burundi, Rwanda, Uganda, Sudan, Central
African Republic, and Congo. One of the largest nations in Africa at 905,365 square
miles, it encompasses most of the huge Congo River basin, along with a small stretch of
land on the Atlantic Ocean at the mouth of the Congo River. Of the nation’s
approximately 51.7 million people, most are of the Bantu ethnic group, although there are
more than two hundred other African groups in the country. There are also at least
200,000 refugees from neighboring countries. The major languages spoken are French
(the official language) and four national languages: Kiswahili, Tshiluba, Kikongo, and
Lingala. Seventy percent of the population is Christian (with 22 million Roman Catholics
and 13 million Protestants), 20 percent practice traditional indigenous religions, and 10
percent are Muslim. Kinshasha, the country’s capital, is also its largest city with 4.7
million inhabitants.
On June 30, 1960, the former Zaire (named Congo until 1971, then Zaire until 1997,
when it was renamed the Democratic Republic of Congo) gained its independence from
Belgium after fifty-four years of colonial rule. In the late nineteenth century, the territory
of the former Zaire was dominated by the Belgian King Leopold. During Leopold’s reign
in the area, thousands of Africans were killed, as he demolished entire villages in his
quests for wealth. When the area was colonized by Belgium in 1908, the social situation
improved from that of Leopold’s time, but abuse of the indigenous population did not
entirely cease. After mounting unrest, Belgium gave the former Zaire its independence in
1960. The years following independence were unstable, and civil war, economic decline,
and social strife have afflicted the nation. The country never seemed to recover from the
murder of its first real leader, Patrice Lamumba, who is still remembered throughout
Africa. In 1965 Joseph Desire Mobutu seized power of the nation and changed it to a
one-party state. Among the most corrupt of African leaders, Mobutu’s vast personal
wealth was greater than his country’s debt. Amidst economic and social turmoil,
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Mobutu’s power lasted until 1997 when he was forced into exile, where he died of cancer
within four months. Laurent-Desire Kabila, the new head of state, was killed and his son
became president in 2001. As of 1997, the government has promised its nation a new
constitution, but this had yet to be accomplished in the early years of the new century.
The Democratic Republic of Congo’s future remained uncertain as civil strife continued.
Democratic Republic of Congo’s natural resources include copper, cobalt, zinc,
diamonds, manganese, tin, gold, bauxite, rare metals, iron, coal, hydroelectric potential,
and timber. Agricultural production revolves around coffee, palm oil, rubber, tea, cotton,
cocoa, manioc, bananas, plantains, corn, rice, and sugar. Principle industries and sources
of revenue include mineral mining, consumer products, food processing, and cement.
Adult literacy is 77 percent.
Kinshasha, the nation’s capital, has been described as the dance and music capital of
Africa. Musicians such as Rochereau Tabu Ley, Papa Wemba, Pablo Lubidika, and
Sandoka have popularized souskous, or the “Congo rumba” style of music, which has
become internationally renowned. In terms of traditional African arts, the Congo is the
source of some of the most spectacular sculptures and masks in the world’s museums.
JENNIFER JOYCE
DIALOGIC PERFORMANCES: CALLAND-RESPONSE IN AFRICAN
NARRATING
In African performances, the actors and audience are coperformers (Fretz 1994; Brenneis
1986). Many types of performers—dancers and diviners, storytellers, and singers—
depend on an actively responsive audience to excel. In fact, many performances cannot
begin without an appreciative group of responders. Kapchan, in her study of spectacles
occurring in Moroccan markets, points out that the audience defines the halqa, the “space
of play and leisure.” The performer must “draw out and elaborate the introduction to his
spiel until a large enough audience has been lured to constitute a circle” (1996, 38). The
encircling audience and the performer together create the dialogic performance. In many
African narrative performances, the audience creates the performance as much as the
narrator does. Indeed, the Chokwe say that without the periodic “answering” (kutahziya)
from an active audience, a performance cannot be fully realized and certainly cannot
excel.
Audience participation has been noted from the earliest scholarship, though listener
comments have not always been acknowledged in the documentation of narratives texts.
Only the more formalized exchanges between narrator and listeners, which appeared to
be intrinsic to the narrative composition, were included. Africanists call these interactive
patterns of songs and chants, “call-and-response.” Ruth Finnegan, in her classic study,
Oral Literature in Africa, writes:
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These songs fulfill various functions in the narrative. They often mark the
structure of the story in a clear and attractive way. Thus, if the hero is
presented as going through a series of tests or adventures, the parallel
presentation of episode after episode is often cut into by the singing of a
song by the narrator and audience…. The songs also provide a formalized
means for audience participation. The common pattern is for the words of
the song, whether familiar or new, to be introduced by the narrator, who
then acts as leader and soloist while the audience provide the chorus.
(1977, 386)
The singing thus creates a pleasing antiphonal sound which often builds in intensity and
volume as the performance progresses (Fretz 1995).
Though dialogues between narrator and listeners distinctively enhance most African
performances, they have only come into the limelight of scholarship since the 1970s.
Whereas earlier researchers tended to view oral narratives as entities transmitted by rote
from person to person, more recent scholars view storytelling as a creative act, as
collaboration between a narrator and audience. Such a shift in the model of storytelling,
from storytelling as object transmission to narrating as a creative process, has been
accompanied by a shift in research concerns (Georges 1969, 1976). In other words,
performance studies moved research on African narration away from collections of
translated tales, often depicting the stories as simple, flat, didactic renditions (Okpewho
1992; Finnegan 1970) to more fully realized documentations of lively performances.
Isidore Okpewho, a Nigerian scholar noted for his writings about African oral literature,
claims that “the study of performance has become one of the most exciting and rewarding
developments in the study of oral literature in recent years” (1992, 42). He explains that
seminal studies in the 1970s, such as research by J.P. Clark (1977) and Harold Scheub
(1975), initiated attention not only to the performer’s dramatization of events, but also to
audience comments and questions and to the narrator’s reactions to listeners’
participation. In fact, Okpewho highlights “the warm presence of an audience” as the
distinctive mark of African oral literature:
It is therefore in the study of performance that we are able to see the
essential character of oral literature as distinct from written literature, that
is, as an art form created in the warm presence of an audience as against
the cold privacy of the written work. (1992, 42)
It is not surprising, then, that interactions between performer and audience characterize
African narration. However, if one scans the printed works on African tales from the
1900s to the 1970s, and even some publications since then, one hardly could find this key
hallmark—audience presence and participation. Too often, the audience is absent or
marginalized to introductory headnotes or explanatory footnotes. When present, the
audience is remarkably wise, voicing only on-topic remarks appropriate to the narrative
and interjecting no interruptive or distractive comments! One wonders if these are real
audiences or if, perhaps, the researcher edited with a heavy hand. Unfortunately, the
deletion of audience participation also undercuts the reader’s appreciation for the artistry
of the narrator. For, if one cannot hear the comments made by the restless audience, one
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cannot admire the skillful wordplay when the performer weaves a listener’s comment into
the story. Sometimes the interaction between narrator, as one character, and audience
member, as another, might be critical to the reader’s interpretation of ensuing actions
(Fretz 1987). Indeed, when listener comments disappear from the published text, the
performance loses some of its dynamic artistry and seems flat and pale. As Ruth
Finnegan so aptly explains,
In all this the participation of the audience is essential. It is common for
members of it to be expected to make verbal contributions—spontaneous
exclamation, actual questions, echoing of the speaker’s words, emotional
reaction to the development of yet another parallel and repetitious
episode. Further, the audience contributes the choruses of the songs so
often introduced into the narration, and without which, in many cases, the
stories would be only a bare framework of words. (1976/1970, 385)
The excision of audience participation, in performances distinctive for their dialogic
nature, can be attributed to several sources. Some scholars admit, off the record, to
editing out irrelevant audience comments and rationalize that participants mentally do the
same. Others point out that the Western printdominated conceptions of narrative,
superimposed on oral storytelling, keep researchers from hearing and seeing the full
performance. Usually, such critiques pinpoint the errors of earlier, biased scholarship and
of previous, poorly translated documents (Okpewho 1992; Finnegan 1970), but rarely
assess the minimal presence of audience in some current publications. In addition, writers
are influenced by disciplinary agendas, and thus, they foreground certain features and
circumscribe or overlook others. Finally, all too often, the researchers’ language skills
and recording equipment limit what they can perceive, translate, and present in print
(Finnegan 1970; Okpewho 1992), Fortunately, many African scholars, including African
poets, novelists, and playwrights, study their own oral traditions and contribute to the
growing body of knowledge about oral performances (J.P.Clark 1977; K.Yankah 1995).
Recent research across the disciplines, however, more clearly and consistently
displays the dialogic nature of oral performances. Not only do more researchers
intensively study indigenous languages as well as work with local assistants, but they
often include both languages in the final texts (when editors permit). The advances of
technological equipment (tape recorders, video and movie cameras) enable scholars to
document and analyze more features of performance, such as the performance situation
and the nonverbal communication of facial expression, tone of voice, and gesture.
Though perhaps inadvertently, the scrutiny of technologically advanced cameras or stereo
recordings makes artificially staged audiences awkwardly visible and muted or silenced
listeners easily heard. Clearly, the ever-increasing attention to performances in context
(cf, Duranti and Goodwin 1992) has contributed to a better understanding of performeraudience interaction. Thus, the discussion, once restricted to easily recognized, formulaic,
call-and-response patterns in songs and chants, has expanded to a more comprehensive
exploration of dialogic performance.
An analysis of specific narrative moments, among various ethnic groups in Africa,
reveals the types of narrator—listener exchanges and allows us to envision (and hear) the
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wide range of narrator-audience exchanges. Such dialogues vary extensively in three
fundamental ways:
First, formal patterns of generic shape, which are the expectations for performances in
a particular genre, prefigure the extent and type of audience response. Many African
narrative performances open with a lively exchange between narrator and audience that
immediately draws the listeners into the story world. For example, among the Haya in
Tanzania, narrators say, “Nkaiaj nabona” (“I came and I saw”), and the audience
responds, “Bona tulole” (“See so that we may see”). Peter Seitel explains that “the
expression appears as ‘See so that we may see’…to indicate the active role members of
the audience play in a successful performance” (1980, 28).
Second, informal patterns of a narrator-audience’s interactive style, which, though
they develop at the outset of narrating, tend to shape the patterns emerging throughout the
performance. These patterns include metanarrative commentary such as—praise, blame,
or inattention—which the listeners offer, based on their aesthetic expectations for
performance quality; of course, these critiques vary according to occasion and identity of
the narrator. For example, Donald Cosentino compares two renditions of a similar story.
When the listeners hear the second version, they are dissatisfied because they had certain
expectations for how the images should unfold. Thus, the audience joins in and helps to
create the tale.
Both performers employed the same set of surface elements and the same
technique of narrative construction. But Sally was hastier than Kalilu. She
obviously kept the picture of the death’s head in her mind, but failed to
objectify it sufficiently for her audience. She did not recreate with her
words and gestures a picture equivalent to the one etched in their minds,
and so, in exasperation, they undertook that re-creation themselves:
SALLY: So too for her now that grave sounded: jen, jen, jen, jen, jen, jen. Now she saw
only the head of that child of hers, and kpu, she grabbed the head tightly. However,
they had said: a person must not touch their heads. When she grabbed her child’s head,
then a plain skull was all that remained in her hands.
AUDIENCE: Yes. Then she went and she stood …
SALLY: I saw the inside of those things long ago. That was a plain skull with which she
frightened the children.
AUDIENCE: What did they do then?
SALLY: She said, “Eat my daughter’s skull!”
AUDIENCE 1: Is it finished?
AUDIENCE 2: Don’t wait any more.
AUDIENCE 3: She said that what little she had heard long ago, she had spoken.
Sally’s performance plainly frustrated her audience. She left incomplete
the verbal reconstruction of the picture of the mother’s death’s head which
conjured in their minds the polar image she was trying to develop.
(Cosentino 1982, 53–4)
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Not only do audiences spontaneously correct and contribute to the performance, they also
might praise or criticize the narrator’s singing and storytelling. In one instance among the
Chokwe of Congo, someone in the audience—thrilled by the narrator’s performance—
called out: “Mama! What a joy! What a story! Listen to that song!” (Fretz 1987, 172).
However, during another moment that same evening, an audience member, bored with a
performance, tells the narrator to end quickly: “Really. This story isn’t very good. Speak
up [hurry], so you can finish it” (Fretz 1987, 189).
Finally, contextual asides and interruptions include those exchanges between narrator
and audience that respond to a situational feature such as the sound of a dog barking, the
call of a bird, or someone’s footsteps. Isidore Okpewho discusses the narrator’s response
to such moments and notes that performers often weave such contextual features into
their stories; he calls such inclusions “ring asides” (Okpewho 1992). But audience
members also might draw the group’s attention toward external stimuli, either distracting
them from the performance or, through a comment, intertwining the immediate present
into the story’s action.
In conclusion, audiences in many parts of Africa respond throughout storytelling
performances. Actively engaged listeners participate with commentary, questions, and
interjections. They even directly address the characters in the story and, as it were, enter
into a dramatic dialogue with them. Audiences especially enjoy those performances that
engage them and that directly invite, even depend on, their participation. In turn,
performers feel gratified by an audience that answers. The call-and-response patterns
between narrator and audience, whether formal or informal, are intrinsic to African
performances throughout Africa.
Not only narrating but also many other types of African performances depend on the
dialogic back-and-forth between performer and audience. Increasingly, scholars
document the exchanges between all participants in a performance and, thus, recognize
the centrality of the audience to the spectacle. For example, Chernoff highlights the
interplay not only of drummers but also of drummers with the audience (Chernoff 1979).
Masqueraders running through a village certainly expect a responsive audience—some
who cheer and others who run away. Even diviners depend on the responses of clients
and often play to a wider circle of participants who watch and comment on the
proceedings (Peek 1991). In fact, the formal patterns of call-and-response sets, though
more easily documented by early scholars, should be seen as a part of persvasive dialogic
pattern. Perhaps the term coperformance best characterizes the dialogic relationship
between participants in most African performances.
References
Clark, J.P. 1977. The Ozidi Saga. Ibadan: Ibadan University Press.
Chernoff, John Miller. 1979. African Rhythm and African Sensibility: Aesthetics and Social Action
in African Musical Idioms. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Cosentino, Donald. 1982. Defiant Maids and Stubborn Farmers: Tradition and Invention in Mende
Story Performance. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Ben-Amos, Dan. 1976. Analytical Categories and Ethnic Genres. In Folklore Genres, ed. Dan BenAmos. Austin: University of Texas Press.
African folklore
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Bauman, Richard. 1986. Story, Performances, and Event: Contextual Studies of Oral Narrative.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Drewal, Margaret Thompson. 1991. The State of Research on Performance in Africa. African
Studies Review 34, no. 3:1–64.
Finnegan, Ruth. 1970. Oral Literature in Africa. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Fretz, Rachel. 1987. Storytelling Among the Chokwe of Zaire: Narrating Skill and Listener
Responses. Ph.D. dissertation, UCLA.
——. 1994. Through Ambiguous Tales: Women’s Voices in Chokwe Storytelling. Oral Tradition
9:230–50.
——. 1995. Answering in Song: Listeners’ Responses in Yishima Performances. Western Folklore
Georges, Robert A. 1969. Toward an Understanding of Storytelling Events. Journal of American
Folklore 82:313–28.
——. 1976. From Folktale Research to the Study of Narrating. Folk Narrative Research: Some
Papers Presented at the VI Conference of the International Society of Folk Narrative Research,
Studia Fennica 20:159–68.
Haring, Lee. 1994. Introduction. Oral Tradition 9.
Kapchan, Deborah. 1996. Gender on the Market: Moroccan Women and the Revoicing of
Tradition. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press.
Okpewho, Isidore. 1992. African Oral Literature: Backgrounds, Character, and Continuity.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Scheub, Harold. 1975. The Xhosa Ntsomi. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Seitel, Peter. 1980. See So That We May See: Performances and Interpretations of Traditional
Tales from Tanzania. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Yankah, Kwesi. 1995. Speaking for the Chief: Okyeame and the Politics of Akan Royal Oratory.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
RACHEL I.FRETZ
See also Central African Folklore; Gesture in African Oral Narrative;
Performance in Africa
DIASPORA: AFRICAN COMMUNITIES
IN THE UNITED KINGDOM
It has been rightly claimed that there is evidence, both archaeological and literary, to
support the theory that Africans were present in Roman-era Britain. Edwards (1990, 2),
writes, “It will be a nice irony against racist opinion if it could be demonstrated that
African communities were settled in England before the English invaders arrived from
Europe centuries later.” Killingray (1994, 2–3) has demonstrated that, as far back as the
Middle Ages, a small number of Africans from North Africa traveled the British sea
routes. From about the sixteenth century onward, Europe’s engagement in the transAtlantic slave trade brought a number of Africans to Britain. Many of the adults were
engaged in servile roles as manual laborers or seamen. The children were often exotic,
aristocratic “pets.” At this time, although the majority of the people of African origin
lived in the major slaving ports of London, Liverpool, and Bristol, they were to be found
all over the country.
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There are two major groups of people of African descent living in the United
Kingdom at the beginning of the twenty-first century. Although it is difficult to
distinguish one group from the other simply by appearance, the difference becomes more
evident with closer observation. The first group is that of the African people from the
continent of Africa and their descendants, and the second is African-Caribbean people
and their descendants. The ancestors of the vast majority of African-Caribbean people
were originally from Africa, forcefully separated from the continent for over four
hundred years during the trans-Atlantic slave trade. The African people in this group
came to live in the United Kingdom from the Caribbean Islands.
Many African people came to the United Kingdom to study. From the sixteenth
century onward, European traders recognized that some formal education improved the
service provided by the African slaves to their European masters. By the eighteenth
century, a number of African chiefs and traders recognized the value of literacy and
numeracy and began to entrust their European trading partners with the education of their
children in the United Kingdom. It has been reported that between fifty and seventy
African children were at school in Liverpool in 1794 (Killingray 1994, 7). From the
nineteenth century onward, education was to be a major impetus for Africans to go to the
United Kingdom.
In the nineteenth century, and the earlier part of the twentieth century, Africans arrived
in the United Kingdom with the goal of obtaining their academic and/or professional
qualifications, after which they would eturn to their countries of origin. They had to leave
friends and families behind and endure years of separation and isolation while studying in
Britain. Many who studied in the Uninted Kingdom later became active in the
independence movements of their respective countries. Many organizations that later
became political African parties were formed in United Kingdom before the 1960s. Two
examples of such political organizations are the British Somali Society, formed in the
mid-1930s, and the Somali Youth League, formed in the 1940s. There was also the Egbe
Omo Oduduwa, a Yoruba cultural organization, formed by Chief Obafemi Awolowo and
fellow students in London in 1946, which, two years later, became a political party in
Nigeria. Prominent African political figures such as Jomo Kenyatta, Kwame Nkrumah,
Julius Nyerere, and many lesser-known medical, intellectual, military, and administrative
leaders received their education in the United Kingdom.
Until about the 1980s, when the economic situations in many African countries were
turning from bad to worse, and the Structural Adjustment Programme was put in place,
the general tendency for the majority of African people who came to study in the United
Kingdom was to complete their studies and then return to Africa. Most Africans who
took up permanent residency in the United Kingdom before the 1980s had various
reasons apart from political and economic instabilities in their home countries. Within the
Yoruba community, and among many Nigerian communities in London, for example, it
was generally believed that only those who failed to succeed in their chosen academic
and/or professional pursuits, and were, as a result, ashamed of their failure, would choose
to remain in the United Kingdom. The type of employment and the quality of life
awaiting them in Nigeria was superior, to that which they could secure in the United
Kingdom.
Since the 1980s, the situation has been changing, and the number of Africans seeking
permanent residence in the United Kingdom has increased tremendously. Many Africans
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who qualified as British citizens in the 1960s, but had returned to Africa when economic
and political instabilities erupted there, came back to live in the United Kingdom. For
similar reasons, the vast majority of children born in the United Kingdom before January
1983, while their parents were studying, returned to live in the United Kingdom. These
children, born at a time when British citizenship was easily acquired by a child at birth,
are now adults in their twenties and thirties They had returned with their parents to live
and receive their education in Africa, but as a result of emerging economic and political
crises in many African countries, found their way back to the United Kingdom. This
situation is particularly true of Nigerians and Ghanians, but similar cases may be found
within the Gambian, South African, Somalian, Ugandan, Kenyan, Tanzanian, and
Ethiopian communities.
This situation has given rise to vibrant African communities, where people are no
longer in a hurry to complete their studies and return to Africa. The people of the African
communities are developing a “settler mentality.” This is evident in the number of
African people owning, rather than renting, their properties. There has also been a
considerable increase in the number of Africans owning their own businesses in the
larger cities of London, Manchester, Liverpool, and Birmingham. In London, for
example, the “corner shop” business selling African food was once dominated by Indian
and Pakistani businessmen. However, in many parts of London, Nigerians and Ghanaians
have entered the field. This is clearly observable in Finsbury Park (North London),
Hackney (East London), Peckham (Southeast London), and Brixton (Southwest London).
The fact that those who are permanently resident have developed a “settler mentality”
has started to make an impact on other aspects of their lives. For example, since the late
1980s, it has been relatively easy to find Africans who are employed as security officers,
taxi cab drivers, and cleaners, but are highly qualified, often holding advanced degrees.
Those once employed as attendants or till operators in the supermarkets, have established
businesses of their own in the food industry, importing food items from their countries of
origin and distributing to a network of small businesses throughout the United Kingdom.
Those who were once employed as security officers established their own security
companies. Some who had been employed by the local councils to manage council
estates started their own estate management businesses. They bought flats and houses,
rented them out, and managed other people’s properties for them. Pharmacists, exploited
for years in Indian and Pakistani privately owned pharmacy businesses, freed themselves
from such ill treatment by establishing their own pharmacies. These are some of the
success stories.
One kind of business where Somalis became very prominent in London in the 1990s
was the cyber cafe, especially in North London. African businesses were usually situated
where a large concentration of African resided, because they are seen as the first and
most powerful market for the businesses of African business people. This explains why
the majority of African businesses are concentrated in North London, East London, and
South East London. A similar trend was observable in areas where there was a
concentration of Africans in Liverpool, Birmingham, and Manchester. Significantly
among Nigerians and Ghanians, and less prominently among Kenyans and Sierra
Leoneans, there has been the establishment of vibrant, Africanled Pentecostal and
Evangelical churches in the United Kingdom. One such church is the Kingsway
International Christian Centre (KICC) based in Hackney, East London. It was founded by
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Pastor Matthew Ashimolowo, a Nigerian, and said to be one of the fastest growing
churches in the United Kingdom, at the turn of the century, with a membership of about
6,000.
African communities in Britain are easily identified by their clothing. One can easily
identify Nigerians from the different parts of that country by their manner of dress on
Sundays (for Christians) and on Fridays (for Muslims). Ghanaians, Somalis, Ethiopians,
Kenyans, Tanzanians, and Ethiopians can all be identified by the way they choose to
present themselves on special occasions, such as the birth of a baby, marked in some
communities by a naming ceremony, and in others by a party. Weddings are elaborate
ceremonies in African communities and are occasions for presenting oneself in the best,
most colorful dress. There are also housewarming and birthday parties. Depending on the
means of the host, these parties are often lavish, with invitations extended to many people
and generous provisions of food and drink for all who attend.
As a result of economic and political crises in many African countries, an increasing
number of Africans want to work and to live in the United Kingdom, partly because of an
inaccurate impression that it is easy to make money there. The devaluation of many
national currencies in African nations makes the situation worse. At the same time as
people are experiencing hardship in Africa, and becoming more and more desperate to
emigrate to the United Kingdom, the borders in Europe are becoming harder to penetrate.
Apart from people fleeing the trauma of war in Angola, the Democratic Republic of
Congo, and Sierra Leone, the general belief is that people seeking entry into the United
Kingdom are economic refugees. There is now a large number of asylum seekers in many
British detention centers, and many cases involving Africans are pending in British
courts, as an increasing number of young Africans seek opportunities to work and live in
the United Kingdom. Unless the political and economic living conditions in African
countries improve, it is likely that the number of Africans seeking a better life in the
United Kingdom will continue to increase.
References
Adi, Hakim. 1998. West Africans in Britain 1900–1960: Nationalism, Pan-Africanism and
Communism. London: Lawrence & Wishart.
Edwards, Paul. 1990. The Early African Presence in the British Isles. Occasional Papers, No. 26.
Edinburgh: Centre of African Studies, University of Edinburgh.
Killingray, David, ed. 1994. Africans in Britain. Ilford, Essex, UK: Franck Cass and Company
Limited.
Oyètádé, B.Akíntúndé. 1993. The Yoruba Community in London. African Languages and Cultures
6, no. 1:69–92.
B.AKÍNTÚNDÉ OYÈTÁDÉ
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DIASPORA: AFRICAN COMMUNITIES
IN THE UNITED STATES
The decades since 1960 (marking the beginning of the postcolonial era in Africa) have
seen the acceleration of African immigrant populations settling in Europe and in the
United States and the emergence of new African diaspora communities and transnational
expressive culture.
African Transnational Migration
The diasporas of the seventeenth to the nineteenth centuries were forcibly created by the
slave trade, when Africans were separated from their communities of origin and settled
throughout the American continents, against their wills, as a captive labor force. In more
recent times, impelled by the forces of globalization, Africans have been the agents of
their own migration to Europe and North America. The formation of newer diasporas has
taken place as people born on the African continent have arrived in the United States in
search of political asylum, economic survival, and educational opportunities. In the year
2000, there were over 881,300 immigrants from the African continent living in the
United States. Immigration of Africans to the United States is part of a larger and more
complex contemporary global phenomenon. Older diasporic communities tended to be
characterized by more or less permanent settlement and ever-diminished contact with
home communities, accompanied by a paradoxical longing for return to an idealized
homeland. Newer patterns of economic and educational immigration are facilitated by the
availability of low-cost, high-quality information exchange through the Internet, as well
as more accessible travel options.
Established and Emerging Diaspora Communities
The expressive culture of new African diasporic communities bears both similarities and
differences to the older communities of African descendants in North America. In both
instances, there are cultural continuities in traditions rooted in the continent of Africa and
traditions practiced in the the United States. For example, West African traditions related
to masking and festival were continued wherever possible, from the period of captivity
through the present, in African diasporic communities from Brazil, to Trinidad, to New
Orleans. The aesthetics of carnival and festival have permutated into diverse expressions,
but some of the core vocabularies of dance, the visual aesthetics of dress and movement,
and the relationship of masking to social and sacred expressions have remained close to
their African roots. Traditions in the preparation of akara, or black-eye peas fritters, were
passed down with and revitalized. For several generations, braids were worn only by very
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young girls and very old women in African American communities. In the 1970s, the
braiding tradition in the United States was revitalized and even augmented as an art form
within the corpus of African American hairstyling by West African women coming from
Senegal, the Gambia, and Mali, who brought a high level of artistry, skills, and
specialized knowledge of braiding to the United States. The context of practice changed,
or was augmented, from an activity practiced almost exclusively in the home, to a major
source of wealth and as a highly elaborated part of African American body arts.
There is significant regional diversity within older diaspora African American
populations of the United States, for example, zydeco music in New Orleans and go-go
music in Washington, D.C. But the cultural traditions of Africans of the new diasporas
are differentiated much more by the home communities they come from and remain in
contact with on the African continent. Examples are rites-of-passage celebrations of the
All Ngwa society of Igbo-speaking Nigerians and naming ceremonies among Yorubaspeaking Nigerians, both of which take place in cities throughout the United States.
African Immigrant Cultural Diversity and Geographical Distribution
African-born immigrants in the United States are a diverse group and cannot be construed
as one community. Arriving, as they do, with widely diverse linguistic, regional,
religious, ethnic, and political affiliations, they also migrate under different
circumstances. These influences on the course of individual lives and fortunes also shape
the cultural and ethnic communities immigrants create. With such a wide range of
cultural communities and references on which to draw, the scope of new African diaspora
culture is equally broad. Nigerians, Ethiopians, Somalis, and Egyptians constitute the
largest documented immigrant populations in the United States. The Cape Verdean
communities, based mainly in New England, are the oldest post-slavery/ new diaspora
communities. The expressive culture of African immigrants is equally broad. African
community enclaves have emerged in large cities with substantial, already established
populations of African descent. New York, Washington, D.C., Oakland, California, the
twin cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul, Houston, Atlanta, and Chicago have been
primary sites of settlement.
Forms of African Immigrant Expressive Culture
First-generation, new diaspora immigrants often choose to draw on the community
expressive culture of their homelands to shape their group identities in the host country.
Through actively creating and re-creating practicing and performing traditions from
home, both among community members and in public settings, they use tradition as a tool
to build community. They emphasize aspects of culture that serve them in this effort
while choosing to discard other aspects that do not fit the context of the host country. For
example, in Somalia, women within a clan take responsibility for preparing young
kinswomen for marriage. The preparations include composing poetry called buranbur
that they recite and dance at all female gatherings. Many of the women have come to the
United States as refugees in the wake of the civil wars between clans in Somalia. In
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several U.S. cities, women have taken the initiative to use the structure of this poetry to
sing about their lives in exile, and the social form of the buranbur wedding celebrations
serves to bring the clans together so that women representing several clans (that may be
antagonists in the home country) work together to plan and participate in wedding
festivities for each of their daughters.
The types of expressive culture that are more likely to prove resilient and adaptable
are often, but not exclusively, those that are portable (fit in a suitcase), for which
materials or satisfactory substitutions are readily available. These traditions may be easily
reproducible in a new environment. Equally important criteria for the continuity of
expressive culture are the presence of skilled practitioners and the iconic value and
meaning of traditions to the lives and the needs of immigrants. Such culture is hardly ever
carried over unchanged, but is newly created according to a culturally hybrid aesthetic.
First-generation African immigrants actively and consciously attempt to re-create
culture in a new place with the goal of maintaining cultural connections between their
relatives in Africa, themselves, and their American-born children. Traditional foodways
are prepared for family meals and for any number of group events (such as independence
celebrations). Parents initiate and fund cultural weekend schools and camps and send
their children home for school vacations or even to attend school and live with relatives.
As a Nigerian student, Adesola Adeola, notes, the current American emphasis on
cultural diversity and ethnic self-assertion may have encouraged the proliferation of
ethnic, as opposed to national, community cultural organizations. The practice of body
arts, from the artful application of henna, to traditional tailoring, to social dressing, are
used as colorful signifiers of ethnic identity. In addition to pan-Nigerian organizations in
the United States, there are many ethnic Nigerian community organizations. Examples
with branches throughout the United States are the Egbe Isokan Yoruba organization
promoting Yoruba culture; Zumunta, a Hausa organization; and Akwa-Ibom, one of
several regional Nigerian organizations. The establishment of these organizations,
patterned after town associations on the continent, is part of the creative agency of recent
African émigrés and provides an incubator for African new diaspora cultural creativity.
New diasporic culture does not merely consist of recontextualized versions of
homeland culture. It is a hybrid, regenerated, phoenix-like, from the traditional culture
that preceded it. Expressive traditions, as articulated in the host country, affect and
transform the culture back home. They affect creative processes, products, and available
technologies. Traditions and cultural processes now travel across the Atlantic and back
home again, leaving their influence felt in the cities in which African immi-grants settle.
Ideas, processes, and expressions are in constant contemporary circulation and are
simultaneously rooted in traditions that are centuries old.
References
Apraku, Kofi. 1994. African Émigrés in the United States: A Missing Link in Africa’s Socia l a nd
Econo mic Development. New York: Praeger.
Arthur, John A. 2001. Invisible Sojourners: African Immigrant Diaspora in the United States. New
York: Praeger.
Ashabranner, Brent, and Jennifer Ashabranner. 1999. The New African Americans. Linnet.
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N’Diaye, Diana Baird. 1997. Community Building and Bridging: African Immigrant Folklife in
Washington, D.C.
Stoller, Paul. 1999. Jaguar: A Story of Africans in America. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Swigart, Leigh. 2001. Extended Lives: The African Immigrant Experience in Philadelphia.
Philadelphia: The Balch Institute.
Wamba, Phillipe E. 2000. Kinship: A Family’s journey in Africa and America. New York: Plume.
DIANA BAIRD N’DIAYE
See also Women’s Expressive Culture in Africa
DIASPORA: AFRICAN TRADITIONS IN
BRAZIL
Brazilian folklore and culture is permeated by African influences. Afro-Brazilian
populations were imported as slaves from a diversity of African regions, from the
sixteenth century through the first half of the nineteenth century. The violence of slavery,
the absorption of white Portuguese cultural values, and the Afro-Brazilian population’s
ability for adaptation all supported the formation of a unique culture. Afro-Brazilian
folklore is the expression of the resistance and the survival of a culture oppressed by
centuries of slavery and social exclusion. What may be defined as cultural resistance is
also felt as amalgam, syncretism, compromise, acculturation. Therefore, we may say that
this culture can no longer be called African, but Afro-Brazilian. Such a phenomenon also
means that the Afro-Brazilian culture is also rich with Portuguese, European, and Native
Brazilian expressions.
Language
The Afro-Brazilian influence on Brazilian Portuguese linguistics is very intense. This
aspect is not so evident in the formal language, but it is fundamental in the popular
language. The people’s speech is full of African traces. It occurs in the transformation of
words with difficult elocution, such as consonant groups (e.g., negro becomes nego) and
in stronger aphereses (tá = estar, ôce = vôce, cabá = acabar, Bastião = Sebastião). There
is also the loss of final sounds in words ending in “l” and “r” (general = genera, cafezal =
cafezá, esquecer = esquecê). Also very common are the reduction of “ei” and “ou”
diphthong in popular speech (cheiro = chêro, peixe = pêxe, lavoura = lavôra, couve =
côve). In addition to these aspects, there is the expressive insertion of African vocabulary
in Brazilian Portuguese. Words such as anau (dough made with corn meal), atabaque
(drum cylinder), babalorixa (medicine man / priest), banguela (person without teeth),
banze (noise / disorder), batuque (percussion), bengala (stick), bunda (derriere), cachaça
(alcoholic beverage), coçula (the youngest son), camundonpo (mouse), fulo (angry
person), and mulambo (rag / a tattered suit), are extremely common in the Brazilian
vocabulary. The singing and soft speech of the people from Bahia is deeply African; the
sonority is very characteristic of the Yoruba idiom.
African folklore
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In the area of religion, a great number of African words were preserved. This
phenomenon is largely restricted to the Candomblé communities, in which the African
languages were preserved in a very impressive way. Thus, in Candomblé houses, one can
find multiple re-creations regarding the lexicon and semantics, a result of its formation
from many distinct linguistic variants and from many unique semiological aspects. These
linguistic levels appear as follows: 1) in the popular Portuguese spoken in the Candomblé
houses, with recurrent references to regional terms, to popular words, and to vulgar
terms, mainly used in profane situations; 2) in the Portuguese language with strong
semantic presence of expressions in Yoruba, Ewe-Fon, and Kimbundu—especially used
in conversations among neophytes, as an introduction to a ritual language and in the
community’s daily life (either in profane activities or in the preparation of more complex
rituals); 3) in the Portuguese language spoken by experienced members, in which
Yoruba, Ewe-Fon, and Kimbundu terms are predominant. The use of more African ways
of speaking is seen as the reaffirmation of ancient people and as a way of excluding the
neophytes from the conversations, since they do not yet have access to the rituals’ deeper
details; 4) in the exclusive use of Yoruba, Ewe-Fon, and Kimbundu as something
restricted to the cult’s more complex moments, in which the gods are evoked (Orixas,
Voduns, and Inquices) through singing, prayers, and evocations.
Within this cultural universe, there is the coexistence of expressions of the people’s
status as linguistic outcasts from the official language, in which “pedir a bênçâo”
(“asking the blessing”) is translated in the common Candomblé communities as
“Motumbá” in places of Yoruba origin, as “Kolofé” in places of Jeje origin, or as
“Mucuiu” in places of Bantu origin. In these three words, with different origins but
equivalent significance, is summed up the meaning of the reverence paid by the more
experienced members to gods and their beliefs.
Dance and Theater
One of the most popular Afro-Brazilian dance and theatrical manifestations—the
Congada—clearly shows the blend of cultures. The Congada is an adaptation of the
medieval French epic Le chanson de Roland (The Song of Roland), appropriated by the
Jesuits priests as an Afro-Brazilian catechism instrument. The festivity’s patron saint is
Sao Benedito, the great saint of Afro-Brazilian population. The Congada is a staging of
the holy war, in which two Afro-Brazilian groups stand for good and evil. The group
representing good wears blue, is Christian, and is headed by the emperor Carlos Magno
(“The King of Congo”). The group representing evil, on the other hand, wears red outfits,
is Moorish, and is headed by Ferrabras (seen as the Devil). The battle’s climax is reached
with the Christian victory over the Moors. Eventually, the Moors are converted to the
Christian faith, and both groups are united in songs and dances of praise for Sao
Benedito. The name Congada is very characteristic of this dramatic dance in Brazil’s
Northeastern region; however, it is also known as Cavalhada in the state of Minas Gerais
and as Ticumbi in the state of Espirito Santo.
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Samba and Carnival
The festive profile of Afro-Brazilian folkloric manifestations, consisting of hymns,
dances, and percussion, is one of its most well-known aspects. Despite its European
roots, Brazil’s Carnival is an essentially Afro-Brazilian cultural product. The groups that
formed the great samba schools of Rio de Janeiro were originally from the city’s slums
and its central areas in the first decades of the twentieth century. The samba was born in
these same areas and is, likewise, a typically urban manifestation. The samba usually
took place at the houses of respectable members of the Afro-Brazilian community,
mostly in the back part of the house. As a form of Afro-Brazilian sociability, the samba is
a musical, rhythmical expression of dance and percussion. In Rio de Janeiro the cradle of
the samba was at the home of “Aunt Ciata,” a famous mulata (“of mixed blood”),
married to João Batista da Silva (a successful Afro-Brazilian who attended medical
school and eventually held an important position at the police ministry during the
government of the President Wenceslau Bras).
Capoeira
Capoeira, a blend of fighting and dancing, is one of the most representative forms of
Afro-Brazilian body expression. It appeared in Brazil (mainly in Salvador, and eventually
reaching the states of Pernambuco and Rio de Janeiro) among African slaves and served
as a self-defense technique as well as entertainment. Thus, it became a popular practice
among Afro-Brazilian and half-blooded classes. During the nineteenth century, up to the
beginning of the twentieth century, the capoeiristas (persons who could do the capoeira)
were greatly feared, mainly for the deadly power of their blows. For decades, the
capoeiristas were the target of police repression. By the end of the twentieth century,
capoeira had lost its outcast profile and had been absorbed by the urban middle classes.
Lacking its fighting character, capoeira became solely a form of entertainment, primarily,
an expression of physical performance, similar to a dance executed with singing and
African musical instruments. The musical dimension is mainly highlighted by a musical
instrument called the berimbau. Berimbau is composed of a 5-foot-long woolen arch, a
metal string (wire), and a soundbox, a small cut gourd, all tied up by a cotton string in the
fore part of the arch. The player uses a slender wooden stick to strike the string or a
heavy coin to pluck the musical notes. There is also a small woven basket full of seeds
(caxixi), which helps to set the rhythm. These performances are called capoeira circles, in
which the capoeiristas form pairs and perform leg and arm movements in fast and
rhythmic strokes. It is common to find “capoeira gym centers” in great urban centers such
as Salvador, Rio de Janeiro, and Sao Paulo, where the former slaves’ fighting form is
seen as a sport or as a healthy body exercise practice.
African folklore
178
Culinary Arts
African cuisine combines a profusion of flavors, scents, and colors. This gastronomy’s
main seasonings are azeite de dendê (oil extracted from the fruits of the dendezeiro, or
African oil palm) and pepper. The city of Salvador, in the state of Bahia, is the center of
this very unique cuisine. The dishes from Bahia are famous: acarajé (beans rolls fried on
azeite de dendê), abará (boiled beans rolls), caruru (okra with shrimp and azeite de
dendê), cocada (coconut sweet pastry), and so on.
These dishes are also offered to African deities worshiped in the Candomblé services.
As such, these foods take on a votive meaning. Each divinity has a preferred food. For
instance: acarajé is offered to Lansa (deity of lightning, wind, and tempest), abará
belongs to Oxum (beauty and rivers goddess), and caruru is one of the most appreciated
dishes by Xangô (deity of justice and thunder). Besides the ritual context, the trade in
these foods has represented since slavery an important source of economic activity for
Afro-Brazilian women (the so-called baianas de tabuleiro).
Afro-Brazilian Medical Practices
Afro-Brazilian medical practice is very important in the Brazilian history context. Since
slavery times, these African-rooted therapeutic practices have been current in urban
centers. In a prejudiced way, Afro-Brazilian practitioners, erveiros or raizeiro, were
called witch doctors and charlatans by the upper classes. However, their background
involves a great wealth of knowledge regarding plants, infusions, unguents, teas, and
cataplasms. For centuries, this popular medical practice in Brazil has been the only
resource for the less-favored classes, given the difficult access to the Brazilian public
health system. These healing practices are strongly connected to religious expressions,
which blend African, Native Brazilian, and Portuguese traditions. Within this context,
there are devotions to Catholic saints, Native Brazilian rites, and African practices.
The main principle is to assure healing through the intervention of supernatural forces.
Afro-Brazilian therapeutic practices were extremely important during the cholera and
smallpox epidemic in Rio de Janeiro at the turn of the twentieth century. In this period,
Afro-Brazilian doctors were found in the streets of Rio de Janeiro, applying leeches as a
healing method, as were herbalists selling their preparations. The use of plants as part of
magical healing practices has a strong African cultural heritage (and also Native
Brazilian) and is still widely used in Brazil today. Old women healers can be found
practicing the healing arts through prayers and blessings and by using some mystical
plants. In general, they are sought out by mothers of small children suffering from some
kind of illness. These practices are very common throughout Brazil, including the
country’s great metropolises. They are more frequently found in the outskirts and in the
slums of cities, where there is a lack of regular and official medical treatment.
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Folklore Characters
In Afro-Brazilian folklore there are two very interesting characters: Curupira and Saci.
Curupira is a small jungle genii whose feet are turned backwards (a feature found in
many West African stories). This is his way of deceiving whoever wants to follow him,
by going to the opposite direction. Curupira is a jungle protector who deceives,
misguides, and scares hunters. Saci, on the other hand, may be called a dwarf or a
primordial character. He is a one-legged Afro-Brazilian boy who wears a red hood and
smokes a pipe. In some descriptions, he has holes in his hands. Saci has magic powers;
therefore, he may disappear or start whirlwinds. From many studies regarding Brazilian
folklore, there remains some doubt concerning the Saci character, and there is no precise
record of his origin. One thesis of Saci’s origin retraces one of the jungle’s spirits known
among the Yorubas (Nigeria / Benin) and among the Jejes (from the ancient kingdom of
Dahomey, now Benin). This divinity is called Aroni among the Yorubas and Aziza
among the Jejes. He is described as a small, one-legged man who smokes a pipe made out
of spiral shell. In a certain way, he is the African Prometheus, since in one of his myths,
he appears as the one who gives fire to men, having stolen it from heaven. He is also very
artful with medical techniques and with healing herbs; therefore, he is able to teach men
this power. The whirlwinds, which made the dead leaves fly, are considered
manifestations of Aroni. This divinity is connected to Ossaim (who is one of the most
important divinities in the Candomblé religion). Such descriptions, collected in Africa by
Pierre Verger, lead us to conclude that Saci is a continuation of Aroni in Brazil.
For centuries, Brazil’s African heritage was neglected as a legitimate folklore
expression. Such a phenomenon is one of many ways of racial discrimination. The AfroBrazilian festive meetings—the samba—were repressed by the police until the beginning
of the twentieth century. In one way or another, there has been a considerable advance
regarding Afro-Brazilian cultural heritage, starting in the 1950s, with the Campanha
Nacional em Defesa do Folclore (National Campaign for Folklore Preservation). One of
the great consequences of this campaign was the creation of Museu do Folclore Edison
Carneiro (Edison Carneiro Folklore Museum) located in Rio de Janeiro. In recent years,
studies of the old Candomblé meeting places carried out by Institute do Patrimonio
Historico e Artistico Nacional (IPHAN—National Artistic and Historical Heritage
Institute) have been another crucial step. There is no longer room for neglecting the
strength and value of African heritage in the Brazilian cultural formation.
References
Bastide, Roger. 1959. Sociologist do Folclore Brasileiro. São Paulo: Anhambi.
Cascudo, Luis da Camara. Made in Africa. 1965. Rio de Janeiro: Civilização Brasileira.
Chalhoub, Sidney. 1996. Cidade Febril. Cortiços e Epidemias na Corte Imperial. Sao Paulo:
Companhia das Letras.
Mendonca, Renato. 1973. A Influência Africana no Português do Brasil. Rio de Janeiro:
Civilização Brasileira.
Ramos, Arthur. 1935. Folclore Negro do Brasil. Rio de Janeiro: CEB.
African folklore
180
Santos, Cristiano H.R. 2001. Candomblé. In Concise Encyclopedia of Language and Religion.
Oxford: Elsevier.
——. 2001. Macumba. In Concise Encyclopedia of Language and Religion. Oxford: Elsevier.
CRISTIANO HENRIQUE RIBEIRO DOS SANTOS
See also Caribbean Verbal Arts; Diaspora; Religions: Afro-Brazilian Religions
Vodou
DIASPORA: SEA ISLANDS OF THE
UNITED STATES
The area known as the Sea Islands, or the Low Country, may be defined as the
southeastern coastal and island region extending from southern North Carolina to
northern Florida. The islands consist of brackish and salt marshes, beaches and wooded
tracts apart from the inhabited and arable lands. Some of the better known islands are
Johns, James, and Wadmalaw near Charleston, South Carolina; Edisto, where there is a
palm-lined beach; and Ladies and St. Helena Islands near Beaufort, S.C., where Penn
Center, founded as a school for the islanders after Emancipation (1863) and before the
end of the Civil War (1865) is located. Daufuskie, known through the photographic work
of Jean Moutassamy-Ashe and the film Conrack, Sapelo, and St. Mary’s in Georgia are
three islands still reached by boat. Jekyll has been developed into a conference center;
Ossabaw is a privately owned writers’ colony. St. Simon, the site for Lydia Parrish’s
Slave Songs of the Georgia Sea Islands, has been suburbanized since the 1950s and Sea
Island has been developed as a luxury resort. Hilton Head has also been developed, as
have Dataw and other smaller islands.
Until the 1930s, the Sea Islands were accessible only by boat. Causeways and bridges,
which now connect some of the islands to the mainland, have made a major impact on the
life of the islanders. Historically, there have been three main ethnic groups: African
American, European American, and Amerindian. The latter have been subsumed into a
triethnic group, locally known as “Brass Ankles.” Inhabited originally by Yamassee and
other Native Americans, the area was invaded, explored, marched through, settled on,
and written about successively by the Spanish, English, and French. Captive Africans
were brought to work the land after the Amerindians were killed or forced out, making
possible large single-crop economies, such as the British-supported prerevolutionary
indigo cultivation, as well as rice, cotton, and, in later years, potatoes, tomatoes,
soybeans, and cabbage.
During the mosquito season in the summer, the islands’ European American residents
moved away to escape malaria, leaving behind the enslaved Africans, many of whom had
the sicklecell gene that protected them from the ravages of insect-borne diseases of the
malarial swamps. As a result of this geographic, economic, and social isolation, these
residents succeeded in preserving many of their African customs in their material folk
culture and life. This continuity and reaffirmation of their ancestral cultures is evident in
the distinctive patterning of their quilts, which reflect Ashanti and Ewe strip-weaving
African Americans
181
designs in silk and cotton, respectively; the construction of baskets through the use of
natural materials and methods of manufacture; women’s modes of hair tying; cookery;
the “knitting” of fishnets; and the practice of fishing, in which the nets are cast, dropped,
and dragged. African influence persists, too, in the Sea Islanders’ insurance and burial
societies, praying bands, and community social groups, called “lodges,” for which the
African secret societies are the analogues. The Sea Island Creole language (also known as
Gullah or Geechee) is part of an African-English Creole continuum (called Afrish by
Baird), which includes the Creole languages of the Caribbean, such as Jamaican and
Barbadian. The Africanity of Gullah has been demonstrated by Lorenzo Dow Turner in
an epochal study of folklore and naming customs, some of which are still practiced today.
Children’s games of the Sea Islands often involve English language game songs such
as “Little Sally Walker (or Waters),” but the accompanying movement, dance, and game
interaction is typically African in social emphasis. Children’s toys are put together from
used cans, wire hangers, and natural substances (sand, wood, etc.). Joint grass dolls are a
popular toy. Women also make “dollbabies” out of salvaged scraps from quilt making or
other domestic sewing. These dolls may can be dressed in plantation-era costumes or in
the typical, layered look of the independent African Sea Island working woman.
Several books, mostly by outsiders, have been written about the area and include
travel accounts, novels, folklore collections, explorers’ journals, educational and religious
missionaries’ diaries, military records, and studies in history, language, and sociology.
Charlotte Forten Grimke, W.F.Allen, Lucy McKim Garrison, Thomas Wentworth
Higginson, William Gilmore Simms, Abigail Christensen, Charles Colcock Jones, Elsie
Clews Parsons, Julia Peterkin, Guy B. and Guion Griffis Johnson, and Guy and Candie
Carawan were all European Americans who wrote about the island people. Many others,
including recent arrivals such as Tina McElroy Ansa and Eugenia Price, who produced
books from African American and European American perspectives, respectively, have
written with fascination about the area and its people, whose traditional life has
commanded attention and respect.
The formerly high population concentration of African American residents has
changed in recent years for two main reasons: northward migration of the African
American islanders in search of better economic opportunity and the influx of European
Americans through suburban, resort, and commercial developments. Unconscionable
taking of African American-owned land for back taxes and seemingly large premiums
paid for shore land on Kiawah, Hilton Head, and Daufuskie Islands (S.C.) have benefitted
the developers and threatened the serene beauty, cultural integrity, sacred burial places,
and general access to some of these islands.
References
Carawan, Guy, and Candie Carawan. 1989. Ain’t you Got a Right to the Tree of Life? Athens:
University of Georgia Press.
Creel, Margaret Washington. 1988. A Peculiar People. New York: New York University Press.
Dabbs, Edith McBride. 1971. Face of an Island. New York: Grossman Publishers.
——. 1985. Sea Island Diary. Spartanburg, S.C.: The Reprint Company.
Jones, Bessie, and Bess Lomax Hawes. 1986. Step it Down. Athens: University of Georgia Press.
Jones-Jackson, Patricia. 1987. When Roots Die. Athens: University of Georgia Press.
African folklore
182
Moutoussamy-Ashe, Jeanne. 1982. Daufuskie Island. Columbia: University of South Carolina
Press.
Parrish, Lydia. 1965. Slave Songs of the Georgia Sea Islands. Hatboro, P: Folklore Associates.
Parsons, Elsie Clews. 1923. Folk-Lore of the Sea Islands, South Carolina. Cambridge, Mass.:
American Folklore Society.
Rose, Willie Lee. 1967. Rehearsal for Reconstruction. New York: Vintage.
Turner, Lorenzo Dow. 1974. Africanisms in the Gullah Dialect. Ann Arbor: University of
Michigan Press.
Twining, Mary Arnold, and Keith E. Baird. 1991. Sea Island Roots: African Presence in the Sea
Islands of South Carolina and Georgia. Trenton, N.J.: Africa World Press.
Wood, Peter. 1975. Black Majority. New York: Norton.
MARY ARNOLD TWINING
DIASPORA
See Basketry, African American; Caribbean Verbal Arts; Carnivals and African
American Cultures; Divination: Ifá Divination in Cuba; Housing: African American
Traditions; Indian Ocean Islands; Languages; Music; Religions: Afro-Brazilian
Religions; Santeria in Cuba; Spirit Possession: Comfa of Guyana; Textiles: African
American Quilts Vodou; Yards and Gardens: African American Traditions
DILEMMA TALES
A dilemma tale is defined as a story that leaves audiences “with a choice among
alternatives, such as which of several characters has done the best, deserves a reward, or
should win an argument or a case in court…. The narrator ends his story with the
dilemma,” which the listeners must then debate (Bascom 1975, 1).
The dilemma tale is defined by its mode of performance. It differs from what
Europeans call myth, the narrative that answers questions about how human beings and
their culture have developed. It also differs from legend, the oral history of a well-known
person or place. Myth and legend are answers; they are accepted by the populace as
truthful accounts of what happened in the past. The dilemma tale, however, is a question,
a fictional problem, posed to the populace. In contrast to the etiological marker of myth
or legend, or the closure provided by the formulaic endings common to many folktales,
the dilemma tale encourages controversy and contention, thus deferring closure
indefinitely. Therefore, the dilemma genre forms a performance code of its own; its rules
distinguish it from other genres and determine when and for whom it may be performed.
Especially in West Africa, where palaver is the means towards action and cohesion, the
dilemma tale flourishes. But it is a favored genre all over Africa, hardly found elsewhere
in such profusion.
African Americans
183
A Luba (Congo) example: Four brothers—Karasai the shooter, Kabomi the
keensighted, Karengerezi the hearer, and Kaibrizi the driver—go in quest of a remedy for
their father’s foot ailment. They find it and lose it. By applying their several skills, they
recover the remedy, take it home, and heal their father. Which of the four did most for his
father (Rehse 1910, 366)?
A Limba (Sierra Leone) example: Unbeknownst to one other, three brothers are
courting the same young woman. One acquires a magic glass, the second a magic animal
tail, and the third a magic skin. Surprised to find each other on the road home, they look
in the glass; the young woman has died. Carried on the magic skin, they are transported
back to her, where they revive her with the magic tail. “Which is the one of those three
who owns the love?” The ethnographer present at the telling of this dilemma tale notes
that, when they tried to solve the dilemma, the audience could not avoid arguing
(Finnegan 1967, 218–19).
Once written down and published as a text, the dilemma tale invites disparate
approaches. Should it be understood as a sequence of incidents, like a folktale, or as an
elaborated riddle, or is it an entirely distinct, essentially African, genre, which cannot be
contextualized in terms of other, more familiar (to European/ American scholars) genres?
For Bascom, the greatest authority on the genre, African dilemma tales are an interesting
oddity among prose narratives. They have some relation, not clear, with formal courts of
law (Bascom 1975, 14). Whatever their meaning, they are narrated, as are other tales.
Their cognitive function is to attest to difference and the impossibility of resolution.
Another approach would be overtly to connect the dilemma tale to other genres as a
means of determining its meanings and functions. The riddle, for instance, with its
insistence on a correct answer, is a playful form of the acquisition of knowledge and
acceptance into a circle of knowers. Perhaps the dilemma tale is a riddle for grownups,
played in a similar theatre as the riddle, but one where debate is expected, disagreement
is welcomed, and a correct answer will never be more than provisional. A more
promising approach sees it as a kind of interactional theater, in which the printed texts are
scripts. No other text in African folklore insists so urgently on performance. The scripts
achieve their realization in the performance situation; every event is unique. If written
scripts only imply possibilities for performances, the literal meaning of each dilemma tale
is inherently variable, and only performance can reveal its meaning. Thus the dilemma
tale provides folklore scholarship, oriented to texts for so long, with an opportunity to
explore the contrasting consequences of text and performance orientations.
References
Bascom, William R. 1975. African Dilemma Tales. The Hague: Mouton.
Finnegan, Ruth. 1967. Limba Stories and Story-Telling. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Haring, Lee. 1982. Malagasy Tale Index. FFC no. 231. Helsinki: Suomalainen Tiedeakatemia.
Rehse, Hermann. 1910. Kiziba land und leute. Stuttgart: Verlag von Strecker und Schroeder.
LEE HARING
See also Bascom, William; Caribbean Verbal Arts; Folktales
African folklore
184
DINKA
See Northeastern Africa
DIVINATION: OVERVIEW
In a constantly changing world, it is difficult to have sufficient knowledge to act wisely.
Nevertheless, answers to the mundane as well as extraordinary questions that arise daily
are available. One has only to ask the correct question of the appropriate source and then
be able to interpret the answer accurately. A diviner can perform these acts.
African diviners manage standardized procedures by which otherwise inaccessible
information is revealed. Usually, this process is governed by an extensive body of
esoteric knowledge, available only to the diviner. Occult communication is revealed
through a mechanism, such as a diviner’s basket of symbolic objects or cast cowrie
shells, or directly through the diviner, acting as a spirit medium. Divination sessions are
central to the expression and enactment of cultural truths as they are reviewed in the
context of contemporary realities (Peek 1991).
All African societies, urban and rural, use divination (perhaps even more than in the
past) to aid in problem solving and decision making; divination continues to serve as the
primary institutional means of articulating the epistemology of a people. While one
primary divinatory form often characterizes a culture, such as the Ifa system of the
Yoruba (Bascom 1969), all cultures, and even individual diviners, will employ several
different types of divination. For example, the Baule of Cote d’Ivoire use cast leather
thongs, mouse divination, and spirit possession to resolve problems. Some divination
forms are restricted to private sessions, while other forms are employed in public rituals.
No matter the format, whether through sortilege or spirit mediumship, the cryptic
oracular message is normally debated within the divinatory congregation of diviner and
clients and before specific plans of action are formulated.
As managers of such critical processes, diviners are a carefully selected group in most
African societies. Only those who are “called” may serve, as among the Zulu, where
ancestral spirits possess future diviners; most diviners must go through extensive training
and initiation periods, with a final public demonstration of their abilities. Not only the
integrity of diviners and their extensive training but the skeptical attitudes of clients who
often travel far distances for consultation argue against facile attacks on the veracity of
divination sessions. Diviners are not charlatans manipulating a fearful clientele but
sensitive, learned specialists who are very respectful of the roles they have been granted
as communicators between worlds.
For many years, serious research on African divination systems was hampered by
prejudice and ignorance. Inappropriately developed and analyzed typologies have further
confused matters. Many studies simply generated contextless lists of divinatory
mechanisms and omens that became endless catalogues because virtually anything that
African Americans
185
registers change can be interpreted for meaningful messages. Equally problematic are
studies that rigidly attempt to separate divination systems as intuitive or logical,
mediumistic or mechanical (see discussions in Devisch 1985 and Zuesse 1987). All forms
of divination participate in cross-world communication (Peek 1994) and intentionally
meld different cognitive processes. The temporal and spacial situating of a divination
session, the symbols employed, and the behavior of the diviner all serve to emphasize the
liminality of the divinatory process. No matter how extraordinary the divination session
is, the enigmatic oracular message will be debated in terms of present reality before a
plan or action is decided. Thus, the divination enterprise involves a nonordinary,
nonnormal cognitive process, which is then reviewed in terms of contemporary reality.
Despite earlier problems with divination research, there have nevertheless been several
informative and insightful studies, such as those by Evans-Pritchard (1968), Middleton
(1971), Werbner (1973), and Turner (1975). Analyses focusing on social dynamics have
been further developed in work by Mendosa (1982) and Rasmussen (1991).
Africanist scholars have begun to use divination systems as valuable resources for a
variety of research goals. Divination sessions serve to revise and review individual and
group histories and thereby become sources for historical studies and personality research
(Blier 1990). Regional studies (Peek 1982; Pemberton 2000) provide valuable
comparative and historical data. All divination sessions are ritual encounters, whose
dramaturgical dimensions are highly informative of various cultural dynamics (Roberts
1988). Divination systems are often closely related to medical (Ngubane 1977; Morris
1986) and judicial practices.
As the embodiment of culture, divination systems comment on all aspects of a culture.
Virtually every expressive and artistic form of behavior is involved. Divinatory verbal
arts range from esoteric and archaic languages to major prose narrative forms such as
myth, legend, and folk tale. Ifa divination of the Yoruba (which was carried to the
Americas with slaves) generates long verses full of mythical references, historical details,
and prescriptions for proper sacrifices. Visual arts serve to focus both diviner and client
on their serious enterprise. From the diviner’s often complex regalia to the divination
mechanisms themselves, major cultural symbols are carefully presented and elaborated
(Pemberton 2000; La Gamma 2001).
Because of divination’s centrality, future studies of African peoples should make
better use of diviners and divination systems. Effective responses to life’s problems
demand both established tradition and creative innovation and sensitive intuition and
careful reasoning; such combinations are artfully orchestrated by African diviners.
References
Bascom, William R. 1969. Ifa Divination: Communication Betwen Gods and Men in West Africa.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Blier, Suzanne Preston. 1990. King Glele of Danhome. Part One: Divination Portraits of a Lion
King. African Arts 23, no. 4:42–53, 93–4.
Devisch, Rene. 1985. Perspectives on Divination in Centemporary sub-Saharan Africa. In
Theoretical Explorations in African Relgions, eds. W.Van Binsbergen and M.Schoffeleers.
London: KPI/Routledge and Kegan Paul.
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Evans-Pritchard, E.E. 1968. Witchcraft, Oracles, and Magic Among the Azande (1937). Oxford:
Clarendon Press.
LaGamma, Alisa. 2001. Art and Oracle. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Mendonsa, Eugene L. 1982. The Politics of Divination. Berkeley: University of California Press.
Middleton, John. 1971. Oracles and Divination among the Lugbara. In Man in Africa, eds.
M.Douglas and P.M.Kaberry. New York: Doubleday Anchor.
Morris, Brian. 1986. Herbalism and Divination in Southern Malawi. Social Science and Medicine
23:367–77.
Ngubane, Harriet. 1977. Body and Mind in Zulu Medicine. London: Academic Press.
Peek, Philip M. 1982. The Divining Chain in Southern Nigeria. In African Religious Groups and
Beliefs, ed. S.Ottenberg. Meerut, India: Folklore Institute.
——. 1991. The Study of Divination, Present and Past and African Divination Systems: Nonnormal Modes of Cognition. In African Divination Systems: Ways of Knowing, ed. P.M.Peek.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
——. 1994. The Sounds of Silence: Cross-World Communication and the Auditory Arts in African
Societies. American Ethnologist 21, no. 3:474–94.
Pemberton, John, III, ed. 2000. Insight and Artistry in African Divination. Washington, D.C.:
Smithsonian Institution Press.
Rasmussen, Susan J. 1991. Modes of Persuasion: Gossip, Song, and Divination in Tuareg Conflict
Resolution. Anthropological Quarterly 64:30–46.
Roberts, Allen F. 1988. Through the Bamboo Thicket: The Social Process of Tabwa Ritual
Performance. The Drama Review 32: 123–38.
Turner, Victor. 1975. Revelation and Divination in Ndembu Ritual. Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell
University Press.
Werbner, Richard P. 1973. The Superabundance of Understanding: Kalanga Rhetoric and Domestic
Divination. American Anthropologist 75:1414–40.
Zuesse, Evan M. 1987. Divination. In The Encyclopedia of Religion, ed. M.Eliade. New York:
Macmillan.
PHILIP M.PEEK
See also Animals in African Folklore; Cosmology; Divination: Household
Divination among the Kongo ; Religion, Silence in Expressive Behavior
DIVINATION: HOUSEHOLD
DIVINATION AMONG THE KONGO
For the Kongo peoples of the Democratic Republic of Congo, life is a continuous
experience of uncovering truths. Truths about the past, the present, and the future, related
to a variety of ecological, social, physical, and spiritual issues, can be apprehended
through the appropriate means and methods. Divination makes such truths available to
humankind. The two main places where divination is practiced are the private home and
in the diviner’s home, known as nzo za bangaanga/nzo za Ngombo.
The Kongo term mpeve means “spirit possession,” that is, going into ecstatic
communion with spirits. It is one of several words (such as bikula, “to prophecy” or “to
foretell”) that comprises the Kongo’s extensive religious vocabulary. The state of ecstasy
is described by the Kongo as a special gift, during which one is possessed by unseen dead
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relatives in order to uncover that which is unknown in this world. Divination has
therapeutic and revelatory functions. In its therapeutic function, it provides diagnoses and
therapies relevant for particular predicaments and diseases. In its visionary function,
known as luengisa (to enlighten or to reveal), it digs into the past, the present, and the
future on various questions. Thus, a family with someone with the gift of divination is
said to be well protected.
In its household context, divination is primarily a female experience. Only women can
enter the trance states necessary for divination. People with the gift for divination
traditionally include mothers of twins (ngudi a mapasa), twins (mapasa), the child born
after the the twins (nlandu), and others believed to be special children in the Kongo
cosmology. Women are believed to have a paramount protective role in the household;
therefore, they retain the privilege of being intermediaries for messages from the spiritual
realm relating to the welfare of the family. Although a person might enter into a state of
ecstasy during the day, night is the preferred time for divination rites. In Kongo
cosmology, night is when that the dead are awake and nearer to the physical universe,
that is, to the world of the living.
Divination takes place in the conjugal chamber. This room, which, in the Kongo
tradition, is not to be entered by any other person but parents, is opened up to become the
forum where people enter into dialogue with deceased relatives and friends. The sudden
onset of possession is characterized by shouts, songs, or special words that indicate that
the process of communication with the spirit world has begun. These cries and songs are
part of the rich liturgy of Kongo divination. The diviner’s spirit speech is multilingual;
several languages may be spoken in the course of one manifestation. Some are
recognized as spoken (earthly) languages, whereas others fall in the category of Ndinga
za zulu (heavenly languages) or Ndinga za Mpinda (mysterious languages). Even when
they are recognized as languages spoken among the Kongo, they are distinguished by an
unprecedented linguistic elegance. Despite the presence of various languages, dialogue is
carried on in a language and in metaphors that are grasped by the human interlocutors
present, who must ask the invisible visitor to use an intelligible linguistic medium. This
constitutes the first phase of the liturgy.
The second liturgical phase is establishing the identity of the spiritual entity (or
visitant). This is important for conveying the authenticity of the spirit. The visitation is
unwelcome whenever the identity is not revealed. Thus, after demanding, “Vova ndinga
yoyo tufueti bakisa” (“Speak the language which we can understand”)? the spirit is asked,
“Ngeye I nani?” (“Who are you?”). Once the language barrier is broken and the visitant’s
identity is revealed, the dialogue starts to flow. The next standard question is, “Nki
wizidi?” (“What is the reason for your visit?”). Normally, there are three possible
answers: courtesy, a report on the family’s welfare, or the imparting of information.
Whatever the nature of the visit, the welfare of the family is most important because, as is
believed among the Kongo and elsewhere in Africa, the ancestors’ primary function is to
care for the physical and social health of their living kin. It is in its curative and
informative dimensions that divination works as the art of disclosing truth. If it is
understanding a disease, for example, the visitant reveals its nature and causes and the
traditional medicines that have to be used or the healer who has to be consulted.
Whenever the family has not followed these instructions, the visitant will return and
blame them for the worsening course of the illness.
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The informative or predictive dimension of divination (luengisa) is twofold: the
visitant may warn of a coming danger (social, physical, or ecological) or illuminate an
unclear situation (such as familial misfortune, past or present). In the case of a warning of
impending danger, the visiting spirit might engage, through the possessed person, in a
struggle with the invisible enemies or vicious spirits that wish to harm the household. In
response, the possessed person stands up and walks in the directions that the enemies are
said to come from in order to argue with them and cast them out. She can use salt, kola
nuts, water, and other traditional objects for defeating the vicious forces.
The third and last liturgical phase of Kongo divination are the concluding words, a
recapitulation of recommendations (“Vanga mayilutelele”: “Do what I have told you”)
and promises (“Si Ngiza kiuvilakene ko”: “I will come back, I have not forgotten you”),
to which the hearers can respond “Never forget us and pass on our love to other members
of the family.” The medium waves good-bye with her hands, indicating the departure of
the visitant and the end of the session She does not regain consciousness immediately,
but rather falls into a deep sleep. When she wakes up, the other members of the family
tell her what has transpired.
The rituals and symbols that accompany most of the divination session have liturgical
significance and therapeutic effect. Songs and special verbal expressions constitute the
rituals through which either the visitation is celebrated (kembila wizi kututala) or a
special feeling of unhappiness (kiadi) and suffering (mpasi) is expressed. Critical
elements include palm wine, kola nuts, salt, saliva of either the person in ecstasy or those
witnessing. These are always found in the house where somebody with the divination gift
lives. They have a sacredotal connotation, since the possessed person is also thought to
have a sacred or priestly function.
Palm wine is poured on the person in ecstasy as a sign of richness, fertility and honor.
Kola nuts, which symbolize power, are ground up and thrown on the medium. The saliva
of the medium becomes the saliva of the visitant. When she spits on people, it indicates
blessing and power. Salt is thrown in the indicated part of the house and appropriate
locations as medicine against evil spirits and people with bad intentions.
ADRIEN N.NGUDIANKAMA
See also Central African Folklore: Overview
DIVINATION: IFÁ DIVINATION IN
CUBA
The Afro-Cuban Ifá divination system closely follows its Yoruba source in philosophy,
format, equipment, and personnel (Bascom 1952, 1969; Abiodun 1975). Introduced to the
island by a handful of Africans who arrived in Cuba as early as the 1830s, Ifá is widely
practiced in contemporary Cuba as well as in the United States, Puerto Rico, Mexico,
Venezuela, Panama, and Spain. It has recently been reintroduced into Brazil by Cubaninitiated Brazilians. Five Africans—Adechina Ño Remigio Herrera, No Carlos Adé Bí,
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Oluguere Ko Ko, Ifá Omí Joaquin Cadiz, and Ifá Bí Francisco Villalonga—were the
founders of Ifá's five principal Cuban lineages (ramas).
Babalawos are priests of Orunmila (also, Orula), the interpreter-orisha who divines
Ifá—understood as “total knowledge.” Orula’s oracular equipment includes the divining
chain (okuelé), used by one babalawo in day-to-day sessions, and the circular wood tray
(tablero de Ifá), along with the sixteen sacred palm nuts (ikín, used in high-level sessions
in which Orula’s secrets are “brought to the floor” (bajón de orula), and which requires at
least three diviners as witnesses and speakers. As in the Yoruba system, Ifá's wisdom is
contained and distributed within a grid of 256 compound figures (odu in Yoruba, letras in
Spanish), which are the permutations of sixteen ranked principal figures, called meyi
(“double”). The babalawo’s interpretation emerges from his reading of these odu,
octagrams produced as the eight-lobed okuelé (opele in Yoruba) chain is cast to a surface
or as sequentially marked in Orula’s divination dust (aché or yefá), which is spread over
the surface of the tray. Three principal odu are extracted, two of which serve as
“witnesses”. Then, the positive or negative valence (iré or osobo) of the odu, and the type
and spiritual source of the valence (e.g., witchcraft via the intervention of the dead) are
defined through further inquiry. Both the ikín system and the okuelé chain require the aid
of pairs of ibos (e.g., a stone, piece of white chalk, shell, or doll’s head), spiritual
“messengers” between the oracle and the client’s “destiny” (ori) that are held in the
client’s fists. In the more momentous bajón, Orula’s equipment and regalia are formally
arrayed around the tablero, which is placed on a white sheet covering a straw floor mat:
Orula’s sopera (lidded wood or porcelain tureen for the ikín), irofá (deer antler tapper,
which replaced the Yoruba Orunmila’s ivory one), iruke (beaded horsetail flywhisk). The
babalawo, barefoot and dressed in white, wears Orula’s yellow-and-green beadstrands
(eleke or collar de mazo) and pillbox cap (gorro). The annual Reading of the Opening of
the Year on January 1 is a public bajón attended by many hundreds of babalawos; the
youngest (often around ten years old) manipulates the ikín to produce the three odu,
whose interpretation lasts all night as each participant “speaks” in ascending order of
seniority. Until the 1960s, this reading gathered all of the Ifá “families” in the house of
Bernardo Rojas in Marianao, a mansion called the “Vatican” because of Rojas’s great
influence. Today, a major collective of four to eight hundred Havana babalawos led by
Lazaro Cuesta, called “The Organizing Commission of the Sign of the Year,” as well
numerous individual groups around the island, perform this annual reading.
The Afro-Cuban Ifá corpus, comprehensively recorded in privately circulated
notebooks (libretas) since the first decades of the twentieth century, has become highly
standardized. The Spanish and Canary Island descended Creole babalawos Ramon Febles
Molina (c. 1842–1936) and Bernardo Rojas Torres (1881–1959), respectively, were
among the first to transcribe the oral Ifá corpus, based upon interviews with their African
masters, such as Rojas’s “godfather,” Adechina (c. 1811–1905) and Ño José Akón Kón.
The most widely circulated published “manuals” were compiled by a non-babalawo, the
shrewd and mysterious figure Pedro Arango, at mid-century. Interpretive manuals, called
Dice Ifá (“Ifá says”), emphasize the oracular advice and mythical narratives of each of
the 256 odu, while practical manuals, Tratódos de Odduns, emphasize the ritual solutions
to each odu. The latter details the fabrication of particular Eshús and inshe osains
(“protective charms”) appropriate to each odu.
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The Dice Ifá and the Tratódos de Odduns elaborate what babalawos in the oral
tradition had to spin out verbally in their interpretations: 1) a laconic epithet or proverb
(refrán), which encapsulates the odu. The refrán of Otura Di, nicknamed Otura Diablo
says, “Here was where the Jimaguas [Ibeji twins] defeated the Devil” (Castillo n.d., 313).
“Here was where” marks the odu as a set of spiritual coordinates in which a particular
issue originated—was “born”; 2) Lucumí invocational prayers (súyeres) addressing the
odu’s forces; 3) which principal orishas are to be praised (“maferefún Obatalá y
Changó”); 4) list-like narrations of advice (consejos), which delineate the range of
experiences, events, prescriptions, and proscriptions relevant to the client’s position visa-vis the odu (“Ifá says: that you have many children and that you have blisters or sores
on your body; you must make ebó; you cannot attend drum dances because, as a result,
you could go to jail…give thanks to Baba [Obatalá] and Changó…you have a debt with
Yemayá…you have a struggle, and if you want to win it, you must put a little spread of
fruit [placita] and two little drums before the Twins…don’t eat salty or hot food…”)
(Castillo n.d., 313); 5) prescriptions for ebó (sacrifices), which clean away the problems
of the odu; and 6) historias, mythical story precedents that reveal situations and their
resolution through proper ebó. In Otura Dí, for example, the Twins blackmail the devil
into removing an insidious trap he has set on the crossroads for all passers-by (a
dangerous “hole” in the ground); the devil is driven to fatigue when tricked into dancing
to the drum they borrow from him; he agrees to remove the trap if they cease drumming.
To clean away the evils of Otura Dí, babalawos may kill, ignite with kerosene, and
burn a chicken over the chalk drawing of the odu. Though the Ifá corpus is undoubtedly
of Yoruba provenance, Otura Dí’s figure of the “Devil,” its references to the Afro-Cuban
social mix of drumming, dancing, drinking, and gossip, as well as the elaborate blackmail
plot, suggest that Ifá’s consejos and historias are saturated with the Cuban historical
experience and may have borrowed from non-African popular narrative forms (see Lopez
Valdes 1985, 87–8).
Babalawos study and memorize their Dice Ifá’s, but authoritative performances
depend upon cogent face-to-face verbal interpretations of the odu and its historias.
Officially, diviners gain reputation through their knowledge, seniority, deeds, and
knowledge (mayoribád, historia, and conocimiento), as well as their moral character and
“manliness.” Women, homosexual men, and even mildly effeminate men are rigorously
excluded from access to Ifá’s secrets. Individual babalawos rise to prominence through
patronage relations as they acquire the socially invested spiritual capital to initiate others
and found a “branch” (rama) of Ifá radition. The foundation of this spiritual capital is the
enabling token of Ifá’s reproduction, the secrets of Olofin—the acquisition of which has
been the defining issue of Ifá politics in the twentieth century. Exiled Cuban babalawos
in 1970s Miami, unable to procure Olofin from Havana’s reigning authority, Miguel
Febles Padrón (1910–1986), traveled to Oshogbo, Nigeria, to learn from the Yoruba
babalawo Ifá Yemi, thereby completing a circuit of transatlantic cultural transmission
that began during the late colonial period.
References
Abiodun, Rowland. 1975. Ifá Art Objects: An Interpretation Based on Oral Traditions. In Yoruba
Oral Tradition, ed. Wande Abimbola. Ile-Ife: University of Ife.
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Anonymous, n.d. Tratado de Odduns de Ifá. n.p.
Bascom, William. 1952. Two Forms of Afro-Cuban Divination. In Acculturation in the Americas,
ed. Sol Tax. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
——. 1969. Ifá Divination: Communication between Gods and Men in West Africa. Bloomington:
Indiana University Press.
Castillo, Jose M. n.d. Ifá en la tierra de Ifá. N.p.
Fatunmbi, Fa’Lokun. 1992. Awo: Ifá and the Theology of Orisha Divination. Bronx N.Y.: Original
Publications.
Hewitt, Julia Cuervo. 1983. Ifá : Oraculo Yoruba y Lucumi. Cuban Studies/Estudios Cubanos
Winter: 25–40.
Lopez Valdes, Rafael L. 1985. El lenguaje de los sgnos de Ifá y sus antecedentes transculturales en
Cuba. In Componentes Africanos en el etnos Cubano, by Rafael L.Lopez Valdes. Havana:
Editorial de Ciencias Sociales.
Lopez, Lourdes. 1975. Estudio de un bablao. Habana: Departmento de Actividades Culturales,
Universidad de la Habana.
Matibag, Eugenio. 1997. Ifá and Interpretation: An Afro-Caribbean Literacy Practice. In Sacred
Possessions: Vodou, Santeria, Obeah, and the Caribbean, eds. Margarite Fernández Olmos and
Lizabeth Paravisini-Gebert. New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press.
DAVID H.BROWN
See also Diaspora; Divination; Santeria in Caba
DJIBOUTI (REPUBLIC OF DJIBOUTI)
Djibouti is a small country of nearly 690,000, located on Africa’s eastern coast between
Somalia, Ethiopia, and Eritrea. Its climate ranges from arid to semiarid. Djibouti is the
country’s capital and largest city, with a population of 383,000. The country’s ethnic
composition is mostly split between Somali and Afar peoples. The major languages
spoken are French, Arabic, Somali, and Saho-Afar. The country is predominantly Muslim
(94 percent), while 6 percent of the population is Christian.
On June 27, 1977, Djibouti gained its independence from France and formed its own
one-party republic. Opposition to the government’s autocratic rule and restrictions on
freedoms of speech and association have been factors in underground political
movements. Nonetheless, the country remained relatively stable until 1992, when peace
was disrupted by civil war stemming from a power struggle between Afar- and Somalispeaking groups. Since that time, the government has made strides in implementing
greater democracy. Although a multiparty republic has been created, continuing conflicts
have overshadowed such advances. At the end of the twentieth century, refugees fleeing
famine and conflict in Somalia, Ethiopia, and Sudan increased the population of Djibouti
by up to one-third.
Djibouti’s major resource is its harbor, which has attracted Arab and European powers
for centuries. Until recently, it housed France’s largest overseas military force (in 1989,
950 ships were in the harbor, including 177 warships). The United States has also placed
a large force there.
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Djibouti has few natural resources, although the discovery of gas reserves could create
revenue from potential exportation. The maritime and construction industries have been
Djibouti’s main industries and sources of revenue.
PHILIP M.PEEK
DOGON
See Animals; Words and the Dogon
DOLLS AND TOYS
“What the year will bring is found in the games of
children.”
Songay proverb
Children play with toys to cope with the present, practice skills for the future, and simply
have fun. Although toys and play are important components in a child’s development,
their entertainment value can never be discounted. Toys help create an alternative reality
in which learning and experimenting can safely take place. It is a completely absorbing
existence in which time and the mundane world recedes while the child’s consciousness
becomes completely absorbed in the play world. Most African toys temporarily replicate
the adult world and give girls and boys, through playing with these toys and exploring
alternatives in the play world, the opportunity to process events the child sees occurring
around him or her. This rehearsal also allows a child to enact upcoming adult roles and to
invent new ways of dealing with the future.
African toys are often made by the children who play with them or by their mothers,
rather than being purchased items or gifts. Exceptions occur when adult canoe makers,
for example, make miniature canoes for young boys or Mossi blacksmiths or Igbo
sculptors carve dolls for young girls. Plastic dolls and other manufactured toys have made
appearances with the rise of colonial and postcolonial consumer markets and are popular
with urban families who live in a Westernized cash economy.
Children use natural, found, or discarded materials to create toys that show their astute
observations of the world around them. In rural areas where herding is a way of life, boys
might create and play with clay figures of cows. Cars, airplanes, radios, or any object a
child might find attractive, but usually unattainable, can be constructed by pegging
together soft woods or by twisting discarded wire into fantastic shapes. New models of
cars or airplanes that a child might observe influence his or her creations—although the
toy often improves on the original. In the 1960s, in the Democratic Republic of the
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Congo, for example, boys’ toy airplanes echoed the UN’s transport planes and
helicopters.
Girls’ dolls present a slightly more complicated case because of the confusion of
children’s playthings with dolls for adults, or ritual figures. Many scholars do not use the
term “doll” for the ritual figures used by adult women, due to a belief that this association
with children’s toys trivializes the ritual figures. In a recent publication on southern
African dolls, including dolls for both play and ritual, authors termed the ritual objects
“fertility figures” and “child figures.” However, it can be argued that children’s dolls are
not trivial, and that both types of object, whether used for play or in ritual, function in the
same way and are called by the same name in the vernacular. Here, the English term
“doll” is used to refer to both types of figure.
Colonial authorities, merchants, missionaries, curious explorers, adventurers, and
other Europeans and Americans who traveled and lived in Africa established the broad
category of African dolls. Working within a European American framework and
handicapped by using men as translators when talking to the women, they called the
anthropomorphic figures that older, mature women treated like living children, “dolls.”
The created category of “African doll” contains figures, both children’s toys and ritual
figures, that depict human beings—usually a child—that are treated as living children
(see Cameron 1996, 21–7 for a discussion of where play and ritual overlap).
Little girls play with dolls. This seemingly universal truth holds throughout Africa.
Girls treat the dolls as infants, feeding, bathing, and dressing them, putting them to bed,
getting them up, cuddling and singing to them. The primary purpose of this role playing
is not to teach child-care, for a girl learns this by taking care of her younger siblings.
Rather, as the girls imitate the women they observe in daily life, they try out their future
adult roles and their culturally sanctioned desire to become mothers is reinforced.
Like the boys making wire cars, girls or family members make most play dolls out of
ephemeral or readily available materials. Many sources note that mothers help young
girls construct their dolls. As the maker grows older and more adept, the dolls become
more sophisticated. Mothers and grandmothers, it is noted, make the best dolls.
Girls imaginatively transform anything available into pretend babies. Young girls tie
mangos and corncobs into their wrappers like infants. Cow or sheep bones with drilled
holes for earrings are sometimes adapted. A common material for dolls is clay. After the
girls mold dolls and allow them to dry, the images are placed in cooking fires. Then they
are decorated with found or donated bits of cloth and beads. This practice has been
documented among the Zulu, Tabwa, and Kuba, and appears to be widespread throughout
Africa.
In some parts of southern Africa, a perceived link exists between a girl’s behavior
towards her doll and her future as wife and mother. If in play, Nguni girls stage fights
between their dolls, adults will reprimand the girls and tell them that they will not be
good wives. Adults instructed Ambo and Nyaneka girls to handle their dolls gently as
they represented the promise of future children.
At puberty, in women’s initiations, and in engagement and marriage ceremonies, small
ritual figures may symbolize a young woman’s ability to bear children and the first child
itself. Family members might give an initiate a small figure that the novice must treat as
an infant. Among the Zaramo, this figure is called mwana hiti (child of wood) and, after
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being secluded with the initiate, is displayed to the public at the initiate’s coming-out
ceremonies.
Although not toys, doll-like figures will be a part of many women’s adult lives. Small
ritual figures also may be part of engagement and marriage arrangements. Among the
Fali of Cameroon, a young man made a doll called ham pilu as a betrothal present for his
bride. He would decorate it with beads, bells, coins, and other additive materials and
designate its sex as that desired of their first born. The bride cared for the doll until her
own child was born, at which time she discarded the figure. Other dolls encourage
fertility, such as the Nguni woman who carries a doll, treating it as a real child, until she
herself becomes pregnant. Dolls among the Yoruba, Malinke, Bamana, and Luba might
also be surrogates for children who have died.
These doll-like figures have historically been placed in the same category as children’s
toys and dolls. Ethnographers, colonial administrators, missionaries, explorers, and other
Europeans and Americans observed women manipulating these miniature figures as if
they were babies—feeding, bathing, clothing, and cuddling them. These early expatriates
had been taught that African cultures and societies were “primitive” and that Africans
themselves were “childlike.” Based on these assumptions, they described the ritual
figures as dolls, and this categorization has survived. To further complicate these issues,
Europeans and Americans often consider toys and dolls as trivial. Many African peoples,
however, see children’s dolls as important objects and look to how a girl treats a doll to
indicate her future success as a mother. Also, small human figures might move from one
category to another. An Asante akua ma, a figure used by women when they are unable
to conceive, is sometimes given to the child, conceived through its intervention, as a
plaything.
The diverse Westerners who began to collect information on dolls had contradictory
experiences. One early museum-collecting expedition found that girls and mothers
eagerly sold their dolls, even making new ones within sight of expedition members. In
contrast, most collectors and scholars comment on the difficulty of gathering either
information about or the “dolls” associated with adult ritual. The psychological, religious,
and personal meanings the figures have in women’s lives are usually listed as the reason
women will not abandon them.
For toys, dolls, and ritual figures, a tourist market has flourished that accommodates
objects to an outsider market. Asante akua ba, for example, have been adopted by
African Americans as symbols of an African heritage, and carvers have responded by
carving thousands for export. African artists, based on the tastes of American audience,
have adapted the figures, making the schematic bodies more figural. The figures might
become larger, expanding from the normal 6 inches to sometimes as much as 2 feet in
height, or smaller, as when the form becomes a golden pin. Americans and Europeans
“discovered” wire toys made by young boys and began to buy them. As a result, an
industry now exists in which grown men create elaborate toys for sale.
Many African toys only last for a few hours. Others are guarded for a lifetime. Some
are produced for sale, as opposed to personal play. Whatever the life-span or final
destination, African toys and dolls play an essential part in the life of the children who
create and play with them.
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References
Cameron, Elisabeth L. 1996. Isn’t S/He a Doll? Play and Ritual in African Sculpture. Los Angeles:
UCLA Fowler Museum of Cultural History.
Davison, Patricia. 1983. Wireworks: Toys from Southern Africa. African Arts 16, no. 3:50–2.
Delarozière, Marie-Françoise, and Michel Massal. 199 Jouets des enfants d’Afrique: Regards sur
des merveilles d’ingéniosité. Éditions UNESCO.
Dell, Elizabeth, ed. 1998. Evocations of the Child: Fertility Figures of the Southern African
Region. Cape Town: Johannesburg Art Gallery and Human & Rousseau.
Lutton, Eric. 1933. “Poupées d’Afrique occidentale. Bulletin de Musée d’Ethnographie du
Trocadéro 5:8–19.
Makoena, Napho. 1990. “Wire Toys from Katlehong Township. In Art from South Africa. London:
Thames and Hudson.
ELISABETH L.CAMERON
See also Children’s Folklore; Initiation; Tourism and Tourist Arts
DRAMA: ANANG IBIBIO
TRADITIONAL DRAMA
Anthony Graham-White (1974) distinguishes three types of drama in sub-Saharan Africa:
traditional drama, drama of the colonial period, and literary drama. Traditional drama is
that which was performed prior to the colonial period and, in some cases, is still
performed today. It is expressed in the vernacular, is not written down, is typically based
on the social organization of the village, and is performed by members of a special
society or age-set. Traditional drama is to be distinguished from ritual and storytelling
performances, although both may, on occasion, display dramatic elements. Most
traditional dramas are satiric comedies, reenactments of historical events, and mimetic
representations of hunting. The most common forms are comic skits that rely on action
rather than words and alternate with songs and dances.
Traditional performances of drama are in the open air, and actors are not separated
from the audience by sets, lighting, or a raised stage. Sometimes the lines of actors are
memorized, but often performers are permitted to improvise. There is no strict separation
of actors and spectators; actors may move freely among the audience, and spectators may
get up to dance with performers. Because they have seen other performances and thus
have acquired standards of comparison, spectators watch as critics, and their responses to
performances prompt competition among troupes. Masks and costumes are commonly
worn and voice-disguisers used to shield the identity of actors in certain dramas,
especially from women, from whom identities and other “secrets” of the society are
carefully hidden.
Among some peoples, particularly in West Africa, traditional drama is well developed.
Most of it, however, has gone unstudied. This is so because most observers of such
performances have had little or no interest in drama or have confused it with ritual and
storytelling events, which may have a dramatic flavor but are not traditional drama as
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defined here. Few good accounts of performances exist in the literature, and of these, the
description of traditional drama among the Anang of southeastern Nigeria is one of the
most complete. It was recorded by a colonial administrator with a degree in anthropology
(Jeffreys 1951) and later by an anthropologist with a strong interest in folklore
(Messenger 1962, 1971).
The Anang, one of the six Ibibio-speaking peoples, are not centrally organized
politically, but are composed of twenty-eight village groups, or iman. Before contact with
the British in 1901 and the establishment of colonial government in 1914, most of the
villages in each group possessed drama societies, called ekon, but a half-century later,
one of the largest of the iman boasted but two village troupes. One of these numbered
over a hundred male members of age fourteen to thirty, half of them actors and half
musicians, dancers, prop men, equipment carriers, and guards. Once formed and
sponsored by one or several patrilineages, a troupe devised a seven-hour performance and
practiced it one day of an eight-day week for six years before presenting it during the dry
season of the seventh year (seven being the Anang sacred number) in most villages of the
iman and sometimes in villages of contiguous groups. At the end of the dry season, the
troupe disbanded and a new one was formed under the guidance of senior members of the
previous company.
The origin of a troupe is often chronicled in a legend. One of these recounts how an
apprentice diviner wandered into a forest where he observed ghosts of former diviners
performing ekon and was commanded by them to found the society and taught how to
“play” ekon and how to build a shrine and call into it the guardian spirit. It was customary
for two priests to aid the guardian spirit, one to control rain at performances and the other
to ward off attacks of evil ghosts, witches, and sorcerers and to prevent masks from
splitting, dancers from falling, and actors and singers from forgetting their lines. Also
hired was a carver to produce masks, puppets, and other paraphernalia. The priests and
carver were paid from funds donated by the sponsoring kin groups and from fees
collected from incoming members as the company was formed and later from villages in
which performances were given.
Ekon was played in a village square, surrounded on three sides by the audience. The
open side of the square was occupied by a puppet stage, the orchestra, and a hut that
served actors donning their garb. The performance focused on a series of often bawdy
satiric plays acted by men, some of whom played women’s roles, and by puppets
manipulated from behind a stage of blankets and palm branches hung from a bamboo
frame. Between each skit, music was played, satiric songs were sung by the orchestra,
and songs were voiced by a chorus of dancers. Mummers, wearing both masks and
costumes, ran about the square, while singing acrobats displayed their skills, which
included tight-rope walking, or magicians exhibited sleight-of-hand deceptions.
During a performance, there was much interaction between players and the audience.
Some members of the troupe dressed as women and circulated in the audience, selling
soap, while others accosted men with simulated sexual advances. Occasionally, a
spectator would enter the square and dance with the chorus, and when widely known
songs were sung by players, the audience would join in. Some of the plays involved
actors chasing members of the audience or inviting them to participate in segments of a
skit. Ekon guards were posted about the square to prevent any violence, since the satire
often was directed toward a spectator or a group of them. Even though there was seldom
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legal redress against defamation, and the guardian spirit would punish a person assaulting
a performer, spectators, at times, became so incensed at barbs directed their way that they
took action and had to be subdued by guards. The usual response of maligned spectators,
however, was to flee the square amid derisive laughter from the audience. Such responses
to satire point to the social control function of ekon, which was profound.
It was customary for another village in the iman to be singled out for the lion’s share
of satiric attacks on its groups (for instance, patrilineages, age-sets, societies, or women)
and individuals (especially important ones). The satire was based on information
collected over six years by “spies,” who might include women married to men of that
village, who were willing to divulge scandals, carvers who spent prolonged periods
carving pieces for the societies of the village, or women traders from the village, whose
gossip in the markets might reveal the misbehavior of neighbors at home. When a troupe
performed in the seventh year, it played first in its own village and last in the village thus
targeted. The last performance always drew the largest crowds and demanded extra
guards to cope with violence.
An analysis of the satire expressed in drama and song reveals that it was directed
against groups, individual misbehavior, and conditions such as poverty, mental illness,
and ugly physical appearance. The groups most often attacked were the hated Igbo,
Hausa traders who cheated customers, overly warlike villages, traditional courts, native
courts introduced by the British, and the colonial administration and its taxation policies,
Christian missions, as well as nativist church denominations, modern large towns, and
Europeans generally. The behavior of individuals chosen for satire focused on the
resentment of men against domineering and sexually demanding women, the corruption
of indigenous shamans and court judges, stupidity and drunkenness, lack of skill,
disrespect shown parents and elders, and the imitation of European ways. Much of Anang
culture and personality were writ large in the satire of ekon.
Skits in a performance could last from a quarter to three-quarters of an hour, and
depending on their length, could number from four to a dozen during the course of seven
hours. An example of a skit was one that satirized a nativist church, the dogma and rituals
of which combined Christian and Anang religions. Actors in it were church dignitaries,
dressed in exaggerated European attire, who performed healing services for several
parishioners by inducting possession, just as indigenous shamans might do, through
manipulation of a huge wooden Bible. A sterile woman was impregnated by the Holy
Spirit in the priest who simulated coitus with her; a hunter with a wooden dog who was
unable to flush game had the Bible passed several times over the animal’s head to
improve his skills in the forest; and a humpbacked man was surrounded by the
dignitaries, all of whom became possessed, with the result that the hump was transformed
into a gigantic wooden penis. Both the hunter with his hinge-jawed dog and the former
humpback rushed into the audience, the former to bite spectators, and the latter to attempt
coitus with women, who retreated screaming at his approach. During the skit, there was
much singing, praying, and dancing by the actors.
Many of the songs rendered by the orchestra, dancers, mummers, and actors dealt with
mistreatment of kin, especially elders, and breaking taboos, two of the most serious
offences among the Anang. Singers told of a man who sold certain of his grandchildren
and in-laws into slavery to Igbo traders. Since he “talked out of the side of his mouth to
people,” the deity punished him by giving him “a twitch at the mouth.” In another song, a
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man fell from an oil palm tree and suffered grave injury as punishment for delaying his
father’s funeral beyond three years. Each iman forbids its members to eat the meat of a
particular animal; this creature, according to legend, aided the founder of the village
group in some manner and was thus honored. One song alleged that a man killed and ate
a squirrel, sacred to the Anang, which, in the past, would have led to his trial and
execution if found guilty. Although the songs alluded to here were brief, some contained
over a hundred words.
A final word must be said about the dialogues of actors, which are characterized by
the use of archaic words and punning. Many of the puns were based on the tonal nature of
the Ibibio language. One such pun in a play centers on an aggressive demand for a gift of
a uniform (a soldier’s or conductor’s coat) made by a domineering wife to her husband, a
chief. She wielded a machete which she frequently shook in his face; he wore a mask
carved and painted to portray anguish. “So you want an enyen ket?” was his response,
which prompted an even more vehement demand on her part. With this, he chased her
about the square, trying to gouge out her eye with a long wooden thumb attached to his
own: Depending on how “enyen ket” is uttered tonally, it can mean “uniform” or “one
eye”!
References
Graham-White, Anthony. 1974. The Drama of Black Africa. New York: Samuel French, Inc.
Jeffreys, M.D.W. 1951. The Ekon Players. Eastern Anthropologist V: 41–7.
Messenger, John C. 1962. Anang Art, Drama, and Social Control. In Arts, Human Behavior, and
Africa, ed. Alan P.Merriam. New York: African Studies Association.
——. 1971. Ibibio Drama. Africa XLI: 208–22.
JOHN C.MESSENGER
See also Performance; Puppetry; Theater
DRAUGHTS (JEU DE DAMES;
CHECKERS)
The first variation of the game draughts dates from around 1500 CE and became popular
in Great Britain, France, and central Europe. The British continued to play this variation
into the twentieth century. Their game is now referred to as Anglo-Saxon draughts, or
checkers, as it is known in the United States. The game is characterized by its sixty-four
black and white squares with twelve white and twelve black draughtsmen, or checkers,
on the board. In France, the Anglo-Saxon game was replaced by “Polish” draughts in the
eighteenth century, a game that had developed in the Netherlands in the seventeenth
century. The playing board counted one hundred black and white squares with twenty
pieces on each side. This game of Polish (or continental) draughts would compete with
Anglo-Saxon draughts as the European powers gained colonies throughout the world.
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The French and British colonization of Africa and the Caribbean brought the game of
draughts overseas. With the landing of the French in Haiti, for instance, the game of
draughts became popular on the island. The French conquest of West Africa did the same
for areas now known as Senegal, Cote d’lvoire, and Mali. The British game found its
greatest stronghold in the United States, where the popularity of checkers was to outdo
that in the British Isles themselves. In Africa and the Caribbean, the Anglo-Saxon version
conquered the British territories, while the continental game became popular in those of
the French and Dutch. The Italians, who had their own version, which was also played on
sixty-four squares, took their game to Ethiopia and Eritrea, where it can still be found.
The game of draughts gained considerable prestige in western Europe, although it
remained a children’s game in countries such as Germany and even the United States,
despite the serious competition that existed in American checkers clubs. In other
countries, it rivals the status of chess, or at least its popularity. Much of the African and
Caribbean history of the game would have been lost if later draughts champions had not
come from former French and British colonies. France was the first to invite talented
players from Africa to its championships as early as the 1890s.
From the 1890s onwards, the history of African draughts becomes a history of African
draughts players reaching the European continent. After the introduction of draughts to
Africa and the Caribbean, the game had become so popular that in Senegal, for instance,
it became the number one sports activity. Senegalese players were the first to visit the
European continent in the 1890s as competitors. At that time, Senegal was a part of
France, and French players dominated the championships of the game. In 1910, the first
African player won a tournament in Europe. Woldouby, champion of Senegal, took Paris
by storm and beat the strongest players of France in the Paris Tournament of 1911. Still
remembered by the “Woldouby-position” that was named after him, he was only a
prelude to the talented players who would later visit Europe.
Although draughts remained popular in the colonies, players would not reach Europe
in significant numbers until after World War II. After the war, France lost its superiority
in the game, and Dutch players took over, soon to be joined by Russian stars. In 1947, the
Federation Mondiale du Jeu de Dames (the World Draughts Federation) was set up to
organize a world championship and develop ranking and rating systems. The many, but
subtle, differences in rules of play frustrated unity, and a new set of rules was agreed
upon to allow for an international standard. These rules of international draughts were
accepted and used by all Russian, Dutch, and French, as well as African and other
international players. The Anglo-Saxon game maintained its separate world
championship events, although its organization intensified the links with the new
international federation.
In 1956, the champion of Haiti was invited to the world championships in the
Netherlands and gained the title of master, and in 1959, another Senegalese took the Paris
championship, entered the world championships, and took the title of grand master.
Grandmaster Baba Sy became a legend in the Netherlands, where he spent most of his
career. He set the world record for simultaneous draughts matches at 150 games and
became challenger for the world title in 1963. For unknown reasons, the world title match
between Baba Sy and the Russian Kouperman was never played. For about five years,
Baba Sy reigned in the international draughts championships, until he was joined by
stronger talents from Russia and the Netherlands. In the 1980s, some time after his
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untimely death, Baba Sy was proclaimed world champion of 1963, with the agreement of
the Russian federation.
The evident talent pool in West Africa, and also in Haiti and Surinam, became the
center of attention in the 1980s. The Confederation Africaine du Jeu de Dames was set
up, and the 1980 world championships were held in Bamako, Mali. In 1984, Dakar,
Senegal, and in 1988, Paramaribo, Surinam, took their turns as host city for the world
championship event, recognizing and supporting the local players organizations. By now,
a steady stream of draughts talents was entering the international tournaments, and these
players were establishing themselves as masters or grand masters. Although the
accomplishments of Baba Sy were never equaled in the twentieth century, Senegalese
players took third place in world championships, and grand masters are now found in
Mali, Ivory Coast, Senegal, and Surinam.
International draughts is played on a checkered board with one hundred squares. One
player owns twenty white pieces and the other, twenty black ones. White opens the game.
Pieces move diagonally, one square at a time, and may capture by jumping over an
adjacent opponent’s piece. A king is made upon reaching the other end of the board. A
king may move more than one square at a time and capture likewise. Capturing is
obligatory, and if there is a choice of capture, the player is obliged to choose the move
that takes the maximum number of pieces. This last rule differs from continental draughts
and is frequently omitted in West Africa.
Apart from the obligatory multiple capture, international draughts is strategically
similar to what is played in West Africa. Small differences, such as playing on the white
instead of the black fields, or a different position of the board between the players, may
also be present. In tournaments, players seem to play faster than average and show
particular resilience in tactical combinations. The playing style of West Africans has
often been characterized as that of the classic school, with defensive play making them
difficult opponents to beat. Their fast play and love for combinations in the game have
made them popular with the audience. Frequent contact with the international draughts
scene has increased their access to the draughts literature and exposure to clocks and
notation forms. They also participate in (mainly Dutch) draughts clubs, tournaments, and
exhibition games. Senegal is seen as the third most important country, after the former
Soviet Union and the Netherlands, in terms of playing strength and players numbers.
The Anglo-Saxon game, checkers, has traditionally been dominated by Scottish,
English, and, later, American players. In 1991, a Barbados player, Ronald King—better
known as Suki—took one of two available world titles. The frequent draws in the game
had developed a variation in which the first two—and later, the first three—moves of the
game were dictated to the players in order to avoid repetitive openings and subsequent
draws. Later, the “go-as-you-please” variation was reinstated, and two world
championship titles became available: three-move and go-as-you-please. Since 1991,
Ronald King has been world champion in go-as-you-please, the dominant version in
Barbados, and after 1994, he also held the three-move title, the first player to hold both
titles simultaneously.
The Anglo-Saxon-derived game differs from international draughts in the size of the
board and the number of pieces. The checkers are commonly referred to as red and white,
and red will start the game. The pieces can only move and capture forward, and a player
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is not forced to choose the move with the most captures. The king may move and capture
forward and backward but not more than one square, in international draughts.
Continental and Anglo-Saxon draughts were the only European board games that were
introduced to Africa and the Caribbean with considerable success. The number of African
countries joining the world championships of draughts is still increasing, and the
successes of African and Caribbean players has fueled the popularity the game already
enjoys. Together with mancala, draughts and checkers are the most important gaming
pastimes in Africa and the Caribbean islands.
References
Beek, W.E.A. 1997. The Fascinating world of Draughts: 50 Years of the World Draughts
Federation. Maastricht: Shaker Publishing B.V.
Kruijswijk, K.W. 1966. Algemene historie en bibliografie van het damspel. The Hague.
Oldbury, D. 1978. The Complete Encyclopaedia of Draughts. Torquay.
Stoep, A van der. 1984. A History of Draughts. Rockanje.
ALEX DE VOOGT
See also Mancala
DREAMS
The paradigms of early European missionaries and ethnologists have contributed a great
deal towards the misunderstanding of dreams in Africa. Central to the evolutionist
paradigm was the distinction between scientific and rational “Western thought,” and
mystical “primitive thought.” European scholars speculated that Africans confused
dreaming and waking realities, or valued dreams more than waking perceptions. For
example, a Zulu man would treat a friend as an enemy because of a dream in which the
latter intended to harm him.
One of the most interesting interventions was Tylor’s (1871) theory of animism. He
suggested that it was from the attempts of primitives to come to terms with dream
experiences that the ideas of the spirit and soul arose. The appearance of the dream self
that wanders about at night gave humans an idea of their own duality. Moreover, the
appearance of the dead in dreams suggests that the soul had an after-life. For Tylor, a
belief in spiritual beings was the central idea of religion.
Psychoanalysts, such as Freud and Jung, continued to use dreams as a means of
constructing Africa as “the other.” They perceived the dreams of Westerners as
analogous to the waking realities of Africans: dreams were an indication of the “savage
world” within the Western person that had to be subdued and civilised. Jung visited East
Africa in 1925 and perceived African society as equivalent to an inner region of the mind.
Today this binary distinction between “scientific” and “primitive” mentalities is seen
as a Western fiction with little relevance to any other contexts. The most decisive break
with evolutionism occurred with the application of Freud’s psychoanalytic theory to
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dreams in Africa. Psychologically minded anthropologists have sought to demonstrate the
universality of deep psychoanalytic processes and to investigate how these were modified
by local social structure and symbolic meanings. Lee (1958) examined the social
influences on the manifest content of dreams as reported by some six hundred subjects at
a hospital in Zululand, South Africa. He recorded significant differences between the
dreams reported by men and by women and found that dreams were stereotyped in terms
of central themes and imagery. His evidence seems to confirm Freud’s hypothesis that
dreams are a form of wish fulfillment and that dream experiences express unresolved
conflicts in the dreamer. Men’s dreams of owning large herds of superb cattle and of
lovemaking were pleasant wish-fulfillment dreams. Men also dreamt of beer drinking,
feasts, and fighting. In contrast, women dreamt of babies, snakes, still water, flooded
rivers, and of a small, muscular, and hairy witch-familiar with an exceedingly large penis
known as the tikoloshe. Newly married brides and women with a record of marital
infertility tended to dream of babies, and these dreams were of a wish-fulfilling nature.
Dreams of water were also associated with childbirth. Indeed, the Zulu word isiZalo
refers to both the uterus and the river-mouth. Single women, widows, and married
women who had borne few children dreamed of still water. For them, the wish for
offspring was still present, but not as strong as for the baby-dreamers. Dreams of flooded
waters were nightmares that produced great anxiety. These dreams tended to occur
among married women with considerable experience of childbirth and indicated a fear of
the economic pressure of further childbearing. Yet, in the face of cultural pressure to
continue bearing children for as long as possible, this fear could not be overtly expressed.
Dreams of sexual attack by the tikoloshe and snakes, Lee maintains, expressed the fears
and frustrations of sexual relations within marriage.
Nevertheless, the value of the psychoanalytic approach to the study of dreams in
Africa was seldom realized. Dreams were still perceived as personal phenomena and
were largely ignored in social research. They were, however, occasionally referred to in
anthropological studies of religion and cosmology. Students were compelled to recognize
how dreams were treated as one-way channels of information between spiritual beings
and certain individuals.
Evans-Pritchard (1958) included a chapter on dreams in his well-known study of
witchcraft amongst the Azande of Anglo-Egyptian Sudan. He contends that Azande not
only perceived bad dreams as signs of witchcraft, but also as a direct experience thereof.
Berglund (1989) emphasized the cosmological importance of dreams amongst Zuluspeakers. Zulu believed that the shades (or ancestors) revealed themselves to their
descendants through dreams. At night, the shades entered through the mouths of
dreamers, brought them good news, and showed the dreamers where to locate lost cattle.
During the first months of pregnancy, the shades could also announce the sex of an
expected child. Dreams of green and black snakes, and of buffaloes, indicated a boy;
those of puff adders and of crossing rivers showed that the child would be a girl. The
absence of dreams brought about great anxiety because it indicated a lack of interest on
the part of the shades. As servants of the shades, diviners were called to their profession
by frightening and incomprehensible dreams, such as vomiting snakes. Hereafter, dreams
taught diviners about their practice and about herbs. Diviners often placed imphepho
plants underneath their pillows, so that their dreams would be clear. Although they
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include the topic of dreams in their studies, Evans-Pritchard and Berglund’s comments
are fragmentary and fall short of systematic theoretical treatment.
Perhaps the most expansive consideration of dreams within anthropological studies of
Africa has focused on independent church movements. Some authors explicitly seek to
develop a sociological approach to the study of dreams. Although Curley (1983)
concedes that dream experiences arise in the individual psyche, he insists “the
anthropologist must study them in their capacity as social facts rather than as clues to the
workings of the mind.” The primary data of students of African churches has not been the
subjective reconstruction of “dreams as dreamt,” but rather “dreams as told to others.”
Curley (1993, 135) argues that, “individual experiences such as dreams become proper
grist for the anthropological mill when they are communicated to others, acted upon, and
interpreted in a given social context.” Scholars of the churches have viewed the
narrations of dreams as purposeful public performances with definite effects on social
action. Through their studies, they show how church members tactically manipulate
dreams in social encounters and how dream narrations feature in the collective life and
social organization of churches.
Charsley (1973) found that the narration and interpretation of dreams was at the heart
of services of a Pentecostal-type church in Uganda. Dreams were perceived as “messages
from God” about what had happened and what should happen. He describes dream telling
as “a channel through which members can bid for status within the group, by attempting
to contribute valuably to its life” (Charsley 1973, 252). It provided secondary church
leaders, such as clerks and the rank and file of women members, with an opportunity to
exert an active influence on events of the church. Prominent male members generally told
of dreams of the church as an organized group and of instructions to read particular
Biblical passages and to sing particular hymns. Thereby, they were accorded recognition
for contributing a “message from God,” regarded as significant for the group. Women
were more inclined to tell dreams that displayed fellow church members in an
unfavorable light (such as wearing dirty church uniforms). Since these dreams often led
to confessions and to ritual forgivings, the women dream tellers were able to determine
the course of events in the church. These were ambitious bids for status by women, but
were tolerated by the church leadership.
Curley (1983) adopts a similar perspective, but highlights differences between the
social roles of “conversion” and “recon-firming” dreams in a fundamentalist church in
Cameroon. Conversion dreams contained explicit religious images such as the cross and
showed vulnerability prior to the conversion, as opposed to physical strength thereafter.
Such dreams were told upon occasions such as baptism and were used as personal
charters to claim full membership status in the congregation. They were signs of
communion with God and became a fund of the common knowledge of the church. As a
“repository of striking images,” the dreams helped to establish religious truth and to
confer legitimacy upon the church as a select group of worshippers. Reconfirming
dreams were narrated during church services and testified that the dreamer still had an
active spiritual life. Their themes were generally the spiritual power that came with
religious faith (e.g., to heal the sick). They often had a competitive aspect and expressed
rivalry between title-holders in the church. Through the narration of confirming dreams,
men expressed a desire for recognition and for advancement within the ranks of the
church. The narrations attested to religious fervor, the ability to derive meaning from
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experience, and also to verbal skills that were necessary for the assumption of positions
of leadership and authority. However, such rivalry was softened when expressed in the
form of a dream, since the narrator was not held responsible for what he dreamt.
Over the past two decades, there has been renewed interest in dreams as sites of
cultural meaning. Jedrej and Shaw’s collection Dreaming Religion and Society in Africa
(1992) has laid an excellent foundation for the elaboration of fresh perspectives. Many of
the essays contained in this edited volume seek to overcome the separation of the
“subjective” from the “social,” and of “meaning” from “power.” Their research explores
how the meanings of individual dreams, as well as the meanings of dreams in general, are
negotiated and defined in different social and cultural contexts, rather than how their
meanings fit into external explanatory frameworks.
One example from this volume is Holy’s (1992) work on the role of dreams among the
Berti of Dafur, in the Sudan. For the Berti, dreams did not indicate the innermost desire
of the dreamer, as Freudian analysis would suggest, but rather, tapped into something
completely outside the dreamer. Dreams did not indicate what the dreamers wanted, but
rather, what the dreamers would get. The Berti perceived of dreams as intensely personal
and rarely shared them with anyone else. Each dreamer interpreted his or her own
dreams. There were, nonetheless, complex frameworks for interpreting dreams that were
culturally shared and used in everyday life. Dreams were believed to be in code, and they
had to be decoded in terms of the indices and symbols they contained. Indices were signs
that showed only one form of a general class. For example, owning a goat is one way of
getting rich. Therefore, to dream of a goat indicates wealth and prosperity, although it
may not actually be acquired through ownership of goats. Dream symbols were
recognizable because they were used in everyday waking life. They could be colors,
animals, or various kinds of objects. Dream symbols could be interpreted literally or in
terms of a reversal of content: they could have either a positive or negative value, or they
could carry a general or specific message. Therefore, one had to consider the context of
the symbol within the dream. For example, falling into a dry well and not being rescued
might indicate death (a specific event), but falling into a dry well and being rescued from
it might indicate a good future (a general omen). Although Holy provides a detailed
description of the rules that the Berti use to interpret dreams, he does not show whether
these rules operate consciously or unconsciously.
Hence, there is no single, all-encompassing framework that has characterized the study
of dreams in Africa in recent years. Instead, the study of dreams has been marked by a
variety of concerns. These include the social contexts of dreams, their symbolism, the
hermeneutics of dream interpretation, and the uses of dreams as sources of ideas that
structure identities and experiences in the everyday world. Most important has been the
recognition that the images provided by dreams are filtered through the prisms of local
cultural traditions. For this reason, culture may well be a keyword in future studies of
dreams and dreaming in Africa.
References
Berglund, A. 1989. Zulu Thought Patterns and Symbolism. London: Hurst and Company.
Charsley, S.R. 1973. Dreams in an Independent African Church. Africa 43, no. 3:244–57.
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Curley, R. 1983. Dreams of Power: Social Process in a West African Religious Movement. Africa
53, no. 3:20–38.
Evans-Pritchard, E.E. 1958 (1937). Witchcraft, Oracles and Magic Among the Azande. London:
Oxford University Press.
Holy, L. 1992. Berti Dream Interpretation. In Dreaming, Religion and Society in Africa, eds.
M.C.Jedrej and Rosalind Shaw. Leiden: E.J.Brill,
Jedrej, M.C., and Rosalind Shaw eds. 1992. Dreaming, Religion and Society in Africa. Leiden:
E.J.Brill,
Lee, S.G. 1958. Social Influence in Zulu Dreaming. Journal of Social Psychology 47:265–83.
Tylor, Edward Burnett. 1958 (1871). Primitive Culture. Vol. 2. The Origin of Religion. New York:
Harper Torchbooks.
ISAK NIEHAUS
See also Divination; Gender; Religion
DRESS
African dress, a system of nonverbal communication, aids in personal and sociocultural
identification of African people in their daily lives. Dress involves both modifying and
supplementing the body with the involvement of all five senses. The visual aspects of
dress (such as shape, silhouette, and color) appear primary, but the other senses are also
involved, such as touching skin, textiles, or leather, smelling scents applied to or
associated with body or fabric, hearing the rustle of textiles or jangle of jewelry, and
tasting pomades or lipstick.
“Dress” is a more comprehensive concept than either clothing or fashion. Dress
encompasses more than clothing, for it includes covering and modifying the body. In
addition, although ritual and ceremonial dress may change, they are usually not
fashionable, for their rate of change ordinarily occurs more slowly than the concept of
fashion implies. Regalia of chiefs and rulers, such as those of the kings of Benin and
Yoruba people and the Asantehene of the Asante are one example.
Common patterns of dress differentiate groups and individuals from one another in
Africa, but idiosyncratic and personal styles are also frequent. Urban Africans in cities
like Dakar, Abidjan, Lagos, Johannesburg, and Nairobi wear styles in ap-parel, hairstyles,
and accessories current in the fashion centers of Paris, London, New York, and Tokyo,
because television, cinema, newspapers, and magazines, along with travel or study
abroad, influence them. However, Africans also display coiffure, body painting, clothing,
and jewelry that are identified not only as African but often as a marker of a specific
ethnic group. Such examples stem from community traditions that demonstrate a
continuity with the past, even when undergoing change. Many African men and women
wear cosmopolitan fashions daily, but choose ritual and ceremonial ensembles from their
ethnic heritage for special occasions and events like puberty rituals, funerals, and
marriage ceremonies.
A common African tradition of dress involves variations of wrapping cloth around the
body, fully or partially covering the torso. The toga-style associated with the political
figure in Ghana of the late Kwame Nkrumah and the Asante people exemplifies fully
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wrapping the body, whereas the wrapped cloth of Masaai warriors primarily covers the
torso. Another style for both men and women involves wrapping cloth (called pagne in
French-speaking countries) around the lower body, usually from the waist to mid-calf or
ankles, and combining it with a tailored garment such as a blouse, shirt, or jacket on the
upper body (or sometimes, leaving it bare).
Women may vary the wrapper style by wearing two layers on the lower body (the top
one from the waist to the knees and the lower from the waist to the ankles), combined
with a blouse on their upper body. The two wrappers are called “up and down” by the
Igbo of Nigeria to designate the top and bottom layers, respectively. Ghanaian women are
known for an ensemble with a blouse that has a peplum covering the top of the wrapper
at the waist. Women in many parts of Africa wrap cloth around their bodies from the top
of their breasts to their ankles. Women, as among the Yoruba and Kalahari, may also
wrap their cloth (sometimes even adding a layer) to suggest a fulsome body, not a slimwaisted one, hinting at pregnancy and fertility.
Veils and head coverings are wrapped, as seen in Tuareg men’s veils, Hausa men’s
turbans, and Yoruba women’s headties. Veils are often associated with women, but
among the Tuareg, veils relate to men’s status and allow privacy and social separation.
Muslim men’s turbans signify their successful trip to Mecca. The changing shapes of
Yoruba women’s headties from year to year demonstrate only one example of swiftly
changing fashion in Africa.
Preshaping is used for textiles and skins to make garments and other items (such as
hats and gloves) by cutting and stitching. Fabrics are cut and sewn to make short and fulllength garments for both men and women. Short garments include the Mande hunter’s
tunic enhanced with attached packets that carry sacred messages inside. Full-length
garments include the women’s boubou of Senegal, the full-length gowns of Herrero and
Efik women, and the men’s garment called caftan throughout several West African
countries and djellaba in North Africa. Skins are preshaped for fashioning shoes and
boots and often trimmed with beads, feathers, or fur as found in the slippers of rulers,
such as the Asantehene of the Asante people of Ghana.
Preshaping is also used to make many kinds of jewelry by molding metal or clay or
carving wood or ivory. Beads, made of various materials, both natural and hand-crafted,
may adorn the neck, wrists, upper arm, waist, knees, and ankles, and many are preshaped.
Bedecking with beads is common among many Africans, such as Masaai men and Zulu
women. Some beads of metal or seed pods produce sounds when the wearer walks or
dances and are often used in masquerade ensembles.
Dress marks an individual’s many identities, such as gender, age, occupation, religion,
community, and ethnicity. For example, wrapping a woman’s cloth to the left or a man’s
to the right designates gender, as does the use of several styles of caps for Yoruba men in
contrast to the headties worn by Yoruba women. In some groups, boys and girls before
puberty may go without clothes and wear only beads; at adolescence or when entering
school, they wear trousers and shirts or frocks. Schoolchildren often wear uniforms, a
practice encouraged during colonial times and continued since then.
Wearing a similar or identical textile for a wrapper outfit, shirt, or blouse commonly
identifies group affiliation in many parts of Africa. Members belonging to Herero
organizations called “flags” wear colored cloth to show their national political affiliation
and use the English word “uniform” to indicate their dress. Many ethnic groups
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throughout Africa order identical cloth to wear for critical life events, such as honoring
the individual on a significant birthday, when attending a wedding as identification with
the bride and groom, or showing support for a political party. Members of Kalahari
women’s organizations in Nigeria wear specified textiles for special events, or both male
and female extended family members wear the same textile to display their kinship
affiliation at masquerade festivals or other celebrations.
Rituals that mark puberty, either socially or biologically, underscore gender difference
and separate rituals are generally held for boys and girls. Types of body marking or
apparel that accompany the ritual wearer emphasize the adult roles of male or female in
the society. The ritual may include permanent marking like scarification and
cicatrization, or temporary colorings. Before the late 1970s, Ga’anda girls of northeastern
Nigeria were cut with a designated system of patterns over a specified time period. Such
temporary colorings as ashes, or white and red chalks may also be used during time.
Dress distinctions in coiffure and ornaments show the transition from boy to man in
the case of East Africans like the Maasai, Samburu, Turkana, and Pokot. Dress for
puberty rites distinguishes preinitiates from initiates, and boys from girls, among the Pedi
of Sekhukhuneland in South Africa. The smocked shirt and string or leather apron is still
worn by female initiates, but continual transformations have developed a new Sotho
dress, consisting of a length of cloth wrapped around the waist, a headscarf, and bangles.
Some traditions in dress relate to traditions of handwork in cloth production, spinning,
weaving, and dyeing. Although both men and women weave, women apparently spin
more frequently than men. Some hand-woven wrappers are worn in rituals or indigo dyes
that fade on the skin are painted on both men and women. Factory-made (often imported)
cloth for wrappers, however, is more commonly found than hand-woven. Both men and
women hand-dye textiles, sometimes using hand-woven cloth or, more often,
commercially manufactured and, sometimes, imported cloth. Cloth for hand-dyeing is
also produced in indigenous textile mills. Textiles dyed with excess indigo that color the
body blue are also prized. Other handwork processes are found, such as beating indigo
cloth with mallets to make it shiny for Tuareg men’s turbans and embroidering Hausa and
Yoruba men’s gowns and hats. Both men and women practice the arts of tailoring and
dressmaking; generally, men practice embroidery.
A wealth of fabrics for dress abound, as Africa has been a strategic world market for
many centuries. Textiles from around the globe are imported throughout the continent,
such as posh velvets (some embroidered with gold or silver threads) and the cotton plaid
fabrics from India known as madras, embroidered eyelet cloth from Switzerland, woolens
and worsteds from Britain, and printed cotton cloth from Europe, Japan, and Indonesia.
Indigenous African resources for textiles include cotton, silk from the anaphe caterpillar,
raffia from the raffia palm tree, and pounded bark cloth. Other apparel and accessory
items also result from trade: derby hats, boaters, top hats, canes, and walking sticks came
from Europe, coral, and glass beads from Italy, the Nehru suit in the 1960s from India,
and handbags and platform shoes from Europe and America.
Ensembles that cover a masquerade dancer are more properly called costume since
dress provides information about an individual’s personal identity, whereas costume
conceals individual identity by portraying the identity of a character in a dance, a play, or
a masquerade. Personal characteristics of a dancer are not of importance and may require
being hidden from the audience by covering the hands and feet along with the rest of the
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body and head. Indeed, a masked dancer often assumes the persona of a spirit from
another world, just as costume in a theater or dance performance highlights the identity of
the character being performed. One example is the ensemble of red gown, red bonnet,
and red sash of a spirit worn by a spirit medium in the Hausa bori ceremony in southern
Niger.
Africans contribute inspiration for dress to the rest of the world, as in the case of
intricate and plaited coiffures, the shirt known as dansiki, and the headtie known as gele,
transported by American Peace Corps volunteers from their association with Yoruba, and
the ubiquitous African trade beads originally made in Venice, Italy. Kente cloth,
associated with Ghana, and the mud-cloth of Mali (known as bogolonfino) have
influenced the contemporary American fashion scene. African Americans select these
fabrics in order to identify with their African heritage.
References
Adepegba, Cornelius, and Joanne B.Eicher. 1996. Body Arts (Africa). In The Dictionary of Art,
Vol. 1, ed. Jane Turner. London: Macmillan Publishers.
Arnoldi, Mary Jo. 1996. Ritual (Africa). In The Dictionary of Art, Vol. 1, ed. Jane Turner. London:
Macmillan Publishers.
Eicher, Joanne B. 1969. African Dress: A Selected and Annotated Bibliography of Sub-Saharan
Countries. Lansing, Mich.: African Studies Center, Michigan State University.
——. 1996. Dress (Africa). The Dictionary of Art, Vol. 1, ed. Jane Turner. London: Macmillan
Publishers.
Eicher, Joanne B., and Mary Ellen Roach-Higgins. 1992. Describing and Classifying Dress:
Implications for the Study of Gender. In Dress and Gender: Marking and Meaning, eds. Ruth
Barnes and Joanne B.Eicher. New York: St. Martin’s Press. Paperback, 1993.
Hendrickson, Hildi, ed. 1996. Clothing and Difference: Embodied Identities in Colonial and PostColonial Africa. Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press.
Pokornowski, Ila M., et al. 1985. African Dress IL A Select and Annotated Bibliography. Lansing,
Mich.: African Studies Center, Michigan State University.
Sieber, Roy, and F.Herreman, eds. 2000. Hair in African Art and Culture. New York/Munich:
Museum for African Art/Prestel.
JOANNE B.EICHER
See also Body Arts; Color Symbolism; Gender; Textile Arts and Communication
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E
EAST AFRICAN FOLKLORE:
OVERVIEW
Research in East African folklore started around the middle of the nineteenth century.
European travelers, missionaries, linguists, and anthropologists recorded narratives,
songs, proverbs, and other genres. These collectors had different aims, ranging from the
desire to understand East African cultures for the sake of advancing missionary and
colonial goals, to the need to enhance the comparative study of languages and cultures.
Initially, the material collected was published in Europe. Later, the missionaries and
the colonial governments created publishing and printing facilities in East Africa. Their
presses published the materials either in the original language only, or with
accompanying translation in German, French or English. Sometimes they published only
the translations. Over the years, these efforts resulted in the accumulation of much
folklore material from different ethnic groups.
As the collectors were foreigners, their access to the folklore was much more limited
than it would have been for indigenous collectors. Apart from the language barrier, the
foreigners tended to be seen as agents of the colonial power structure. They were not
able, for example, to hear and record anticolonial and anti-missionary folklore. That they
could only record certain types of folklore, such as folktales, helped shape the
perceptions of what African folklore was like, such as the notion that African folklore
consists mostly of “fireside” tales. The truth, however, is that through their experiences
under colonialism, the East African people created, and expressed themselves in, various
forms of anticolonial folklore, such as songs, jokes, and rumors. Vampire stories, for
example, and urban legends, which were often connected to the experience of
colonialism, were common in those days, but were rarely recorded and published.
The struggle for, and attainment of, independence inspired the East Africans to
examine their traditional cultures more seriously than they might have done before, under
the impact of colonial education. Writers and scholars like Mathias Mnyampala
(Tanganyika), Okot p’Bitek and Taban lo Liyong (Uganda) and Henry Anyumba
(Kenya), pioneered this effort. Educational institutions, government departments, and
ministries of culture promoted the recording of folklore as part of the effort to document
national cultures and foster national pride. Under colonialism, learned societies had been
formed, which established such journals as Uganda Journal, Kenya Past and Present,
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and Tanganyika Notes and Records, which later became Tanzania Notes and Records.
These journals established a tradition of publishing folklore materials.
As institutions of higher learning were established, especially after independence of
their respective countries, they created opportunities for teaching folklore and for creating
an indigenous cadre of folklore researchers and scholars. Universities such as Makerere,
Nairobi, Dar es Salaam, and a number of later ones, introduced programs in oral
literature. These universities accumulate collections of folklore materials gathered by
students and faculty. Many undergraduate and graduate projects continue to be done in
this area, resulting in a rich source of folklore-related dissertations held at these
institutions. In all the East African countries, there are also museums, archives, and
research centers with folklore holdings. The main research centers include the Institute of
Swahili Research at the University of Dar es Salaam, the East African Center for
Research in Oral Traditions and African National Languages (EACROTANAL) in
Zanzibar, and the Institute of African Studies at the University of Nairobi. Radio stations
also have folklore holdings, even though these are not gathered according to the methods
of professional folklorists.
There are also amateur recordings of folklore, available on cassette and videotape.
These are likely to be sold on the streets, in kiosks, and marketplaces. For example,
several of the famous epics of the Haya of Tanzania are available on cassette tape from
street vendors. They are a valuable record, even though they do not come with field notes
or information on the performers. What impact these recordings might have on the oral
tradition is a subject of much debate among the scholars of African folklore.
With new technology, therefore, the dissemination of folklore has taken new forms:
newspapers, cassettes, television, and the Internet have all become media for
disseminating folklore. The traditional boundaries within which ethnic groups define
themselves are increasingly being undermined by such processes as urbanization and
easy communication. Folklore of the various ethnic groups is now carried to all corners
of East Africa and the world with great ease. The dynamics and consequences of this
contact, and the intermingling of various forms of folklore, require further investigation
and study.
Although there is not, as of yet, an association of East African folklorists; however,
the Kenya Oral Literature Association is a notable starting point; it sponsors conferences,
research projects, and a growing list of publications. Equally significant is that East
African folklorists are enhancing their international contacts with membership and
participation in such bodies as the International Society for Folk Narrative Research
(ISFNR) and the International Society for Oral Literature. A major landmark in this
respect is that the ISFNR held a meeting in Africa for the first time in Nairobi in 2001. A
selection of papers from that conference, published in Fabula (2002), attests to the vigor
and skill of East African folklorists.
There are, however, certain problems and issues worth noting. Research in East
African folklore has always been subject to various constraints. At the beginning, as
mentioned, such constraints included language barriers. Europeans struggled to record
folklore in languages they either did not speak or which they did not know very well,
which forced them to use local translators. The collectors did not have the kind of
recording equipment that is available today, or the kinds of roads and vehicles that make
modern travel so much easier. There are also political constraints; no research can be
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done without research clearance. The politics of research clearance can be complex and
problematic, both facilitating and complicating the work of researchers. The political
instability that affects many African countries can negatively impact folklore research, as
collectors cannot do field work due to governmental restrictions, or concerns for their
physical safety. Years of political upheavals in Uganda, for example, have slowed down
research work.
Despite all the work that has been done since the mid-nineteenth century, there are still
many areas of East Africa that have not been well served by the researchers. East Africa
is a vast region, with hundreds of languages and cultural traditions. Most of the languages
are not written, and the folklore research that might have been done in most of these
societies is rudimentary and less than professional. The emphasis on folktales, proverbs,
and songs has obscured the complexity of the folklore. New paradigms must be explored
in the study of East African folklore. There is a need to uncover and use indigenous
nomenclature and classification systems in recording and interpreting folklore.
Categorizations such as folktale, proverb, and prose narrative are problematic, given that
they are imposed upon African genres, but derived from non-African contexts; they are
perhaps even inimical to the proper understanding of the East African material in
question.
There is also the problem of access to the recorded material. Though much folklore
material has been recorded, it is scattered in various places across the world. Another
problem is that the material is available in many languages: Portuguese, German, French,
English, and the many local languages. Translations of all these materials into several
languages would be ideal, so that people speaking different languages could all have
access to them. But this is a complex problem, given the multiplicity of languages
involved. What is needed, at least, are comprehensive bibliographies and other finding
aids for all the material that is available in various publications, archives, and research
centers.
East African folklore reflects the complex historical dynamics of the societies of the
region, which continue to be affected by such phenomena such as migrations, refugees,
and tourism. The spread of new media, such as radio, television, audio and
videocassettes, CDs, and the Internet encourages the preservation and dissemination of
forms of folklore. Popular performances are now made available by such means, and
these same media, in turn, encourage the rapid spread of foreign influences on East
African folklore. The folklorists, indigenous and foreign, are increasingly becoming
aware of these dynamics and their implications. They have begun to take up the challenge
of recording and studying the transformations of folklore in the context of all these
processes.
References
2000. Fabula 43, nos. 1 and 2.
Haring, Lee. 1972. East African Oral Narrative: Progress Report of a Survey. Research in African
Literatures 3, no. 2:190–95.
Mbele, Joseph L. 1997. Folklore Research in East Africa. American Folklore Society Newsletter 26,
no. 3:4–6.
JOSEPH L.MBELE
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EDUCATION: FOLKLORE IN
SCHOOLS
Folklore, in the sense of vernacular cultural practices, is involved in African education in
at least three ways. One is its role in the traditional education or socialization of children,
as elders pass on their knowledge to the next generation. A second is the contradictory
ways in which missionaries and colonial officials conceived of “tradition” and enshrined
their policies not only in colonial administration, but also in school curricula. A third is
the attempt by independent African nations to recuperate tradition in order to create a
national culture; often, these state-sponsored efforts involve schools as a mode of
intervention.
Child Socialization and Traditional Forms of Education
Up until the 1960s and 1970s, scholars of traditional forms of child socialization in
Africa generally saw education as the way African societies reproduced themselves from
generation to generation, autonomous and unchanging, a process disrupted by
colonialism and Westernization. These scholars argued that these educational processes
were primarily informal, situational, and practical in contrast to Western-style schools,
which concentrated on formal and abstract knowledge and served as gateways to jobs in
the colonial administration. Although scholars of socialization stressed the importance of
generational continuity for the reproduction of society and the status of elders in their
theoretical discussions, their ethnographic data pointed to the importance of peer groups
(or age-groups) in the socialization of children and youth.
Within the analytic framework of cultural continuity, these studies gave functional
explanations for folklore, especially children’s games and play, in which creative and
aesthetic practices maintained order and hierarchy, relieved social tension, and expressed
social ideals and values. In play, children prepared for their future roles in society by
imitating adult activities. Songs, dances, proverbs, riddles, and insults all served to
educate children about the ideals and values of a group and to maintain the status quo.
Through artistry, folklore served as an especially memorable and heightened form of
socialization.
Functional explanations for African socialization may also have been prompted by
local notions about the importance of folklore. Some African scholars and promoters of
tradition, espe-cially in anglophone West Africa during the 1960s and 1970s, also
stressed the educative value of local traditions in teaching children social and moral
behavior; however, their functional arguments were primarily used to bolster the
importance of folklore, rather than serving as the basis for a study of child socialization.
In other words, they used some of the same language and concepts as those studying
child socialization in Africa, but for different purposes.
Some formal educational practices, such as crafts apprenticeship and Quranic schools,
have been present in Africa prior to and alongside Western forms of education, but these
have generally not been the subject of much study regarding socialization, because they
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are considered more formal. Initiation ceremonies are also important formal sites for
socialization in some areas of Africa.
Western anthropologists have since undermined the paradigms of modernization and
tradition that served as the basis of studies of socialization in Africa: rather than seeing
colonialism and “modernity” as forces that transform African societies, anthropologists
now examine how Africans transform and localize “modernity” and other globalizing
forces. Their studies focus on how Western schools have been incorporated into African
understandings of education, systems of knowledge, and social hierarchies, rather than
posing a threat to their order, and argue that tradition is generated through contestation
and in everyday, situated practices. African scholars of folklore, especially in anglophone
West Africa, are more concerned with the aesthetic and artistic elements of music, drama,
and oral literature, rather than with traditional forms of socialization and functional
explanations. Therefore, although no doubt vernacular traditions continue to play a role in
children’s education and socialization in Africa, academics, both in Africa and the West,
are no longer focused on this topic. Yet there is much that could be done in this area with
looking at how learning happens in situations of differential power; as a result of power
structures in which some people have more status than others, not everyone gains access
to tradition.
Western Education and Tradition
It is a commonplace to say that schools in Africa are Western imports, with the corollary
that they alienate African students from their languages, cultures, and religions. First
established by missionaries, especially in anglophone Africa, schools aimed to convert
Africans to Christianity and to divorce them from traditional practices the missionaries
saw as uncivilized. During struggles for independence, African nationalists critiqued
schools for alienating them from their own languages and cultural practices.
However, the story is more complex than this. The missionaries were selective,
according to their own criteria, about which cultural practices were antithetical to
Christianity and which could be appropriated or replaced. Conservative Protestant
German missionaries in Africa, specifically in the Gold Coast (now Ghana), Cameroon,
and Tanganyika (now Tanzania), were influenced by Romantic nationalism, especially by
neo-Romantic movements after the 1880s in Europe, and sought to preserve selected
indigenous traditions, particulary language and history. Bruno Gutmann, a missionary in
Tanganyika, integrated Chagga dances into church on Sunday afternoons for the youth,
“rediscovered” a fertility dance performed at maize harvests, and Christianized the texts
of the accompanying songs. In 1933, another missionary organized a folk festival with
the theme: “What Can Be Done to Save Bena Folkhood from Destruction?” Basel
missionaries in Cameroon struggled with the contradiction of being carriers of a different
national culture at the same time as they wished to preserve local culture, which they felt
had its own national spirit and soul.
In the Gold Coast, Basel missionaries were interested in creating a nation unified by
language. This idea formed the basis of Basel mission school policies, especially
concerning the promotion of local languages for the purposes of schooling. Through local
language study, selected items of folklore were taught in schools, in order to strengthen
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moral and Christian teachings. Folktales and proverbs, along with Biblical stories and
hymns, were included in local language readers used in Basel Mission schools (from the
first edition in 1891 to the later edition of 1950) in the Gold Coast. Through their
codification of local languages, missionaries solidified and increased consciousness of
the connection between ethnicity (as the nation), culture, and language, an association
that continues to reverberate in African countries today.
Colonial practices also served to codify vernacular traditions, especially after World
War I, when colonial administrations in Africa began to take a greater interest in
education. Although colonial policy in francophone West Africa was based on the
principle of assimilation, rather than accommodation to local culture, this was never
particularly consistently carried out. Education was oriented towards the manpower needs
of French West-Africa and emphasized agriculture and other vocations. During the 1930s
and 1940s, at the École Normale de William Ponty in Dakar, Senegal, which was a
training college for students aged eighteen to twenty-nine from all over francophone
West Africa, students were encouraged to record folk plays and sociological data during
their holiday vacations, and students presented imitations of traditional customs at annual
school celebrations. Their plays were characterized by cross-cultural elements and the
absence of any ritual—which was primarily the domain of adults and religious specialists
and not appropriate for youth. In colonial Algeria, and perhaps elsewhere in French
colonies, schools sought to create mediators, citizens who were neither too Westernized
nor too indigenous.
In British colonies, the policy of Indirect Rule heightened colonial interest in local
vernacular traditions. Contemptuous of local intellectuals, colonial officials sought to
create a new elite from the sons of chiefs who would embody the “best” of the local
traditions that they considered worthy of preservation when combined with Western
civilization. In the tradition of Romantic nationalism, British colonial teachers felt that
development of the nation could not take place unless it was built on local culture, which
would form a foundation for the selective assimilation of Western ideas and practices.
One example of the kind of school these ideas created was Malangali school in
Tanganyika, founded by W.B.Mumford in 1928. The school was based on tribal tradition:
boys wore traditional dress, were taught by village elders, and twice a week practiced
spear throwing, dancing, and other recreational activities. Also founded were Garkida
school in northern Nigeria, where folklore formed the basis of lessons, and Achimota
College in Ghana, which incorporated local music and dance into extracurricular
activities within a anglicized frame. These schools also promoted industrial and
agricultural education, as well as local languages and history. Therefore, colonial schools
promoted a simplified, desacralized, and reified vision of vernacular traditions, an
approach that focused on performing arts.
These experiments in “Africanized” education did not last very long, because Africans
sought modernity under their control, rather than a type of education that they felt was
inferior. When Africans in villages in anglophone Africa began building schools under
their own initiative, they generally started schools that were academic and focused on
English, and these were the kinds of schools promoted by independent African
governments. After 1945 in francophone West Africa, Africans advocated for schools
that resembled those found in urban areas.
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Education and Folklore after Independence
Inheriting contradictory notions of vernacular culture, independent African governments
have had ambivalent feelings toward folklore; while it is a symbol of the nation and a rich
heritage, it also seems to contradict the goal of progress and modernity. African
academics have often been at the forefront of persuading their governments of the
importance of tradition. Government and academic interests in vernacular culture
converge in the field of education. State promotion of folklore has often used education
as a site of intervention, not only because schools are nominally under government
control and a way to reach the nation’s children, but also because academics focus on
their domain of education. Government and academic efforts to recuperate vernacular
traditions have also revived functionalist reasons to justify their promotion, with the
argument that folklore educates and integrates society and thus is valuable to the nation’s
development.
The data for this section is sporadic and full of gaps, dependent on if, and where,
documents and articles that spoke to cultural policies and school policies in various
countries could be found. The postcolonial intersection of folklore and education in
Africa is a literature that needs to be developed.
In West and southern Africa (and perhaps throughout Africa), cultural traditions are
often showcased as performing arts (dance, music, drama, and drumming) to create
national art forms. The showcasing of different ethnic traditions on one stage represents
the national polity, at the same time as it heightens the connection between a particular
style and an ethnic group. State-sponsored national, regional, and provincial level arts
festivals took place in Nigeria and Ghana in the 1960s and 1970s, and in Namibia in the
1990s, some of which were organized for schoolchildren. Some of the national cultural
competitions for artists and students were driven by international level festivals, such as
the Second World Black Festival of Arts and Culture, held in Lagos in 1975, or South
African Development Community regional arts festivals in the 1990s. Performing arts
festivals in these countries have became a way of representing the nation and a way of
speaking across many linguistic boundaries. Teachers and students are more subject to
political pressure and sometimes easier to organize, through school cultural troupes and
clubs, than community level or Western-trained artists.
When folklore has been included in school curricula in African primary and secondary
schools, it has been incorporated into academic subjects and national school
examinations, as a different kind of content within a Westernized frame of knowledge. In
Kenya, the teaching of oral literature in the schools is explicitly marked by the goal of
nation building: folktales are chosen for their ability to show the similarity or unity of
Kenya’s many ethnic groups and for their moral purpose which can help the nation
develop. Oral literature is included in English literature classes and is part of the national
examinations. Verbal art seems to be most easily integrated into African schools, both
ideologically and practically, and is generally done so through vernacular language
classes. Yet because of the ambivalence of governments, as well as students and teachers,
the presence of “folklore,” as either performing arts or systematized school knowledge,
may be sporadic or uneven in schools, despite official promotion and policies. In some
countries, especially in francophone Africa, schools may not be involved at all in local
language or cultural instruction. Africanization may not appear through folkloric dances
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or lessons on folklore, but through a focus on modern arts, such as modern African
literature.
Academics have persuaded governments to support folklore by institutionalizing
programs of study in universities. The teaching of vernacular traditions in universities is
important symbolically for primary and secondary levels of education, since university
education represents the pinnacle of schooling and thus determines what is important
knowledge. Whereas in universities in Cote d’Ivoire and South Africa the goal of these
courses or programs (in drum language and oral literature) is research and documentation
of vernacular traditions, in Nigeria and Ghana the goal is to create practitioners and
artists: these academic programs explicitly aim to preserve tradition by rejuvenating and
transforming it through new artistic creations.
International bodies, such as UNESCO, have contributed to the promotion and
preservation of local traditions by African governments and academics, through its
attempt to set worldwide cultural policy, protecting and documenting indigenous
traditions (such as the Inter-Governmental Conference on Cultural Policies in Africa held
in Accra in 1975). In localizing these global discourses and institutions, Ghana’s
government focused on cultural education in its 1987 education reforms, sponsored by
the World Bank, which was concerned with administrative and financial issues in
education and not with making the schools more in touch with local cultural traditions.
Often, parents, teachers, and students conceive of local traditions as antithetical to the
goal of schooling, which is to create “modern” people. Evangelical Christianity, growing
stronger in Africa, also emphasizes that cultural traditions are antithetical to Christianity
and may make Christians uncomfortable with the teaching of folklore in schools.
Furthermore, older people remember a time when tradition was considered abhorrent by
their teachers and students were punished for attending community festivals and rituals.
The teaching of folklore in African schools is thus driven by various pressures, both local
and international, by academics, governments, Christians, and international agencies, as
they redefine and negotiate historically complex (and sometimes contradictory) concepts
like tradition, nation, and progress.
References
Clignet, Remi P., and Philip J.Foster. 1964. French and British Colonial Education in Africa.
Comparative Education Review 8, no. 2:191–98.
Coe, Cati. 2000. “Not Just Drumming and Dancing”: The Production of National Culture in
Ghana’s Schools. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Pennsylvania.
Colonna, Fanny. 1997. Educating Conformity in French Colonial Algeria. Trans. Barbara Harshaw.
In Tensions of Empire: Colonial Culture in a Bourgeois World, eds. Frederick Cooper and Ann
Laura Stoler. Berkeley: University of California Press.
Fiedler, Klaus. 1996. Christianity and African Culture: Conservative German Protestant Missions
in Tanzania, 1900–1940. Leiden: E.J.Brill.
Hallden, Erik. 1968. The Culture Policy of the Basel Mission in the Cameroons. 1886–1905. Lund:
Berlingska Boktryckeriet.
Kalabash: A Biannual Magazine on Namibian Culture. Ministry of Education and Culture,
Government of Namibia.
Mumford, W.Bryant. 1930. Malangali School. Africa 3:265–92.
Niangoran-Bouah, Georges. 1981. Introduction a la Drummologie. Abidjan: Sankofa.
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Osofisan, Babefemi Adeyemi. 1974. The Origins of Drama in West Africa: A Study of the
Development of Drama from the Traditional Forms to the Modern Theatre in English and
French. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Ibadan.
Read, Margaret. 1987. Children of Their Fathers: Growing Up Among the Ngoni of Malawi.
[1968]. Prospect Heights: Waveland Press.
Samper, David. 1997. “Love, Peace, and Unity”: Romantic Nationalism and the Role of Oral
Literature in Kenya’s Secondary Schools. Folklore Forum 28:29–47.
Sienaert, E.R., and A.N.Bell, eds. 1988. Catching Winged Words: Oral Tradition and Education.
Durban: Natal University Oral Documentation and Research Centre.
CATI COE
See also Children’s Folklore; Government Policies toward Folklore
EGYPT
Occupying the extreme northeast corner of the African continent, the modern nation state
of Egypt must be distinguished from its namesake, “Ancient Egypt” which occupied
virtually the same territory. Egypt, still centered on the famous Nile river, is bordered by
the Mediterranean to the north, Israel and Palestine to the east, with Sudan to the south
and Libya on the West. Egypt first, and soon the rest of North Africa, would change
forever as Islamic Arabs swept across the area in the seventh century. Although Napoleon
attacked Egypt in 1798, the modern history of Egypt is usually traced from 1882, when
the English occupied the territory after domination by the Ottoman Empire since the
sixteenth century. Modern Egypt’s importance to Europe was no longer its romantic past
but the Suez Canal, which opened in 1869. In 1922, Egypt attained some degree of
independence with a British-controlled monarchy. This government was overthrown in
1952 by General Gamal Abdel Nasser, who became a strong voice for African
independence elsewhere on the continent until his death in 1970. Subsequent Egyptian
leaders have grown close to the United States, and Egypt is one of the largest recipients
of foreign aid from the United States. Recently, there has been an increase in domestic
turmoil as Islamic fundamentalists and government agencies have clashed.
Although Egypt is a predominantly Islamic country, with over 50 million Sunni
Moslems, there has always been an important and ancient Coptic Christian community
numbering about 7 percent of the country’s population. There is also a notable urban
Jewish population as one finds throughout the cities of North Africa, as well as a large
number of Christians of various denominations. The total population is approximately 67
million people. Life expectancy is relatively high for African countries at sixty-three
years. The adult literacy rate is around 51 percent.
In the past, Egypt’s major exports were cotton and agricultural products, such as dates,
from the rich lands along the Nile river. Now Egypt has a developed industrial sector,
which exports pharmaceuticals, automobiles, and kitchen appliances. There are also
sizeable mineral and oil exports. And tourism remains a major source of income as many
come to visit both contemporary and ancient Egypt.
In some ways, through trade and travel it might be said that Ancient Egypt was more
involved in the rest of Africa than modern Egypt, although the nation has played a strong
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role in the Organization of African Unity. The major point remains that Egypt was and
always will be part of the African continent.
PHILIP M.PEEK
ELECTRONIC MEDIA AND ORAL
TRADITIONS
African oral traditions have been a very important inspiration for broadcasting content
and style, from the first days of radio in Africa up through the twenty-first century.
Locally produced radio and television programs feature traditional genres of
communication such as storytelling, advising, drama, political oratory and song. In
addition, national media produce live coverage of cultural festivals and ceremonies,
which include oratory, songs and dance performances.
The broadcasting of oral traditions has several important implications for African
nation-states as well as for specific ethnic cultures. Transmitting folklore via new media
can contribute to cultural and linguistic preservation and revival. It can also function in
projects of national integration and public education. In some cases, broadcasting oral
traditions is problematic and even controversial. Since mass media introduce new
possibilities for both production and reception, they can dramatically transform the
structures and social functions of oral traditions.
Across Africa, there is evidence of two-way influence between oral traditions and
electronic media. Stylistic elements of oral traditions appear in the speech styles of
broadcasters and conversely, the speech styles of broadcasters are having a long-term
effect on language use in face-to-face contexts.
Background and Examples from Zambia
Hundreds of radio stations and scores of televisions stations exist in contemporary Africa.
Virtually every nation has its own staterun radio and television operation, and many
nations have independent broadcasting as well. Africa’s earliest official radio station was
established in South Africa in 1924. Two years later broadcasting was inaugurated in
Algeria, to be followed in 1927 by Kenya. In 1959, the first television station south of the
Sahara was set up in Ibadan, Nigeria. These early broadcasting efforts were designed
mainly for European settlers and they offered very little programming for Africans.
The Central African Broadcasting Station (CABS) in Lusaka was one of the first radio
stations to develop programs for African listeners during the colonial period. At the time,
Lusaka was the capital of the British colony of Northern Rhodesia (now Zambia). By the
late 1940s, CABS was world famous for its impromptu plays in indigenous languages
and its unique methods for acquiring original sound material via rural recording tours.
The CABS served Northern Rhodesia, Southern Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe), and
Nyasaland (now Malawi). Seven languages were used: Bemba, Lozi, Ndebele, Nyanja,
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Shona, Tonga, and English. Early radio programs included morality plays (“The Lame
Man and the Blind Man”), folk stories (“The Ingratitude of Mr. Lion”) and talk shows
(“Your Questions Answered”). In addition, traditional storytelling genres were adapted
for contemporary tales about the pressures of social change and the conflicts between
older and younger generations.
Present-day Radio Zambia, part of the Zambia National Broadcasting Corporation
(ZNBC), follows directly in the footsteps of the pioneering CABS. Radio is the most
widely consumed medium in Zambia, reaching nearly 60 percent of all national
households. Radio Zambia has three channels, each of which is devoted to different kinds
of programming. Radio 2 and Radio 4 broadcast exclusively in English. Most folklorerelated programming occurs on Radio 1, which broadcasts in the seven official Zambian
languages: Bemba, Kaonde, Lozi, Lunda, Luvale, Nyanja and Tonga. Examples of
translated titles include “Traditional Songs,” “Our Culture,” “By the Fireside,” “Stories
and Legends,” “Poets Corner,” “Your Questions Answered,” “Points of View” and
“Advisors.” Elements of traditional oratorical styles and narrative structures pervade even
the more Western-derived media formats, such as programs on current events, farming
techniques and children’s healthcare.
Two popular Bemba talk shows on Radio Zambia, Baanacimbuusa and Kabuusha
Takolelwe Boowa are inspired directly by indigenous modes of advising. Baanacimbuusa
(Women Advisors) is a half-hour discussion program that airs every Saturday morning.
The program’s title, format and message are drawn considerably from oral traditions. In
Bemba culture, baanacimbuusa is the name for the leaders of the girls’ initiation
ceremony known as cisungu. During the cisungu ceremony, the baanacimbuusa lead the
initiants through a number of rites which demand great agility, endurance, and obedience.
Electronic media have become part of
traditional ceremonies, as in this
celebration of the Ngoni nc’wala
(annual first fruits ceremony) in
eastern Zambia. Photo © Debra
Spitulnik.
African folklore
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Other elder women perform songs and dances, which teach the girls how to behave in
marriage. Besides their specific ritual roles, the baanacimbuusa are viewed as experts in
matters of marriage, family, and childbirth. The “Baanacimbuusa” radio show reflects
Bemba ways of imparting knowledge about socially appropriate conduct. A well-known
cisungu song about the teaching role of baanacimbuusa plays as the opening theme song.
On each program, the host introduces a topic which a panel of elder women then discuss.
Topics center on family and marriage problems such as infertility, widows’ rights,
troublesome relatives, teenage pregnancy, and adultery. Using traditional oratorical
styles, panelists elaborate on the issues and offer suggestions for listeners who have such
problems in their own lives.
Another advice program, Kabuusha Taakolelwe Boowa, takes its name from a wellknown Bemba proverb meaning “the inquirer was not poisoned by a mushroom.” It airs
for one hour every Sunday morning, and has been running on Radio Zambia for nearly
forty years. The program features an expert advisor who answers listeners’ letters on a
variety of subjects including corrupt politicians, adulterous spouses, in-laws who demand
more marriage payments, and employers who exploit their workers. The program stresses
the survival value of consultation, as indicated in its title proverb. Kabuusha advisors
frequently use proverbs and various forms of imperatives to exhort listeners and to
prescribe appropriate conduct. They also draw heavily on other oral traditions such as
Christian sermonizing and nationalist discourse.
Functions of Oral Traditions in Electronic Media
Broadcasting oral traditions is important in Africa as people look to the media “to provide
explanations, give advice and act as an arbiter of social morality” (Mytton 1983, 85). The
Baanacimbuusa and Kabuusha programs in Zambia are prime examples of this. In
Uganda, radio songs which build on traditional storytelling genres are used to comment
on gender identities and contemporary national politics. Thematic elements of the
Kiganda founding myth and formulaic elements of trickster stories recur throughout these
radio songs and lend authority to the songs’ messages.
Transmitting folklore via new media can also assist in cultural and linguistic
preservation and revival. In contexts where languages are in danger of losing speakers or
where traditional lore is known by only a few elder members of culture, mass media can
help document and promote indigenous traditions. They can also function in projects of
national integration and public education. In multiethnic nations, mass media can be used
to promote awareness and pride in a rich and diverse cultural heritage. For example, for
many years, evening television in Cote d’Ivoire featured a program of folktales told in
different national languages followed by dance performances filmed in a village of the
featured ethnic group.
The broadcast of oral traditions has also been a subject of intense debate in many
African nations. Critics have argued that it fosters heightened ethnic factionalism and
leads to the corruption of traditional cultures that were never meant for electronic
formats. In Zambia, where there are seventy-three officially recognized tribes, the
Zambia National Broadcasting Corporation (ZNBC) has struggled to develop a policy
about the coverage of traditional ceremonies. Roughly twenty different ethnic groups
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annually celebrate a cultural heritage event, such as a first fruits ceremony, a seasonal
migration ceremony, or an event of historic conquest. It is too costly for the ZNBC to
provide regular coverage of all cultural ceremonies. At the same time, media producers
are worried that selecting only a few will offend the ethnic groups who do not get
covered. In this context, some Zambians have argued that national media contribute to
the commercialization of traditional ceremonies. The Ngoni people have an annual
ceremony which is regularly covered by state media, and in many years the ritual’s
master of ceremonies has been a famous radio broadcaster. Local elites often use the
media coverage for their own purposes and ritual participants sometimes ignore the
central activities and instead mug up to the television cameras. Although oral traditions
can be incorporated and transformed within electronic media, this shows how the
presence of electronic media can alter the performance of traditions in their original
contexts.
Music and other genres of
communication on radios and cassette
players draw in customers and provide
a focus for socializing at the
marketplace. Kasama town center
market, Zambia. Photo © Debra
Spitulnik.
In countries where mass media are highly censored, oral traditions may used in
broadcasting to give greater exposure to suppressed political groups and opinions.
Because oral traditions often use indirection and allegory to express political critique,
their messages may not be immediately obvious to media censors. Broadcasting oral
traditions for such purposes can have both positive and negative effects. As an avenue for
expressing political views, it could help foster a more vibrant civil society. Alternatively,
it may be socially disruptive and lead to further political repression.
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Challenges in Adapting and Promoting Oral Traditions in the
Electronic Media
One hotly debated issue concerns the dominance of imported Western programs in both
African radio and television. Roughly 80 percent of Television Zambia programs are
imported, with the majority being American action and drama series. There are also
several American children’s programs, such as Sesame Street. Similarly, very high
percentages of imported programs air on state television in Uganda, Kenya, Cote
d’Ivoire, and many other African nations. European and American music is pervasive on
radio. Policymakers, cultural analysts, and national citizens alike are concerned about
whether the dominance of such Western media content is an example of media
imperialism. The fear is that foreign media may erode traditional culture and traditional
values, and that they may create a more homogeneous global culture.
In the 1970s and early 1980s, UNESCO hosted extensive deliberations about these
imbalances in the global flow of media products and produced detailed policy
recommendations. Since that time, several international organizations have worked to
foster the production and exchange of indigenous broadcast material in Africa. Much of
this involves programming that is inspired by indigenous oral traditions. The Union of
National Radio and Television Organizations of Africa (URTNA), based in Senegal,
promotes the exchange of locally produced programming among African nations.
Satellite and videocassette are used to transfer media products from one nation to another.
Two other UN organizations, WHO (World Health Organization) and FAO (Food and
Agricultural Organization), provide support to produce local radio dramas for health and
farming education.
Bringing oral traditions into mass media is sometimes problematic. For example, the
Baanacimbuusa radio program in Zambia cannot broadcast exactly the same kinds of
advice that is given in face-to-face contexts, because the radio audience extends beyond
the ritual audience of women and mature girls. The public nature of radio forces the
women advisors to use euphemisms and withhold some information that may not be
appropriate for all listeners.
Similarly, it is difficult to adapt many traditional song and dance performances to
television formats because they are so embedded in rituals and communities. Media
producers need to be sensitive when they remove material from their original
performance contexts. Media audiences may have completely different reactions to massmediated cultural traditions than they would if they were direct participants in an ongoing
event.
One problem is that rituals have different functions and different temporal structures
than broadcasting typically does. This creates a challenge in adapting a song that lasts
thirty minutes or a dance that lasts one hour. In addition, some traditions are forms of
praying and they involve entire communities. They are not meant to be entertainment for
isolated groups of viewers and listeners. It may be difficult to retain the same sense of the
sacred in mass communication. Furthermore, the dialogic nature of face-to-face
communication is very important for most oral traditions. Storytellers often ask rhetorical
questions to their audiences. Proverbs are often stated as riddles, or in call-and-response
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formats. The most successful media adaptations of oral traditions preserve these dialogic
features.
The Ghana Broadcasting Corporation (GBC) has been very successful in developing
culturally oriented children’s television. In one of its first efforts, the GBC asked the
National Theatre Company to collect folktales and adapt them for television. Characters
in the folktales were represented as masked figures on television. The programs were not
well received because audi-ences could not relate to the masked characters. Young
children were confused and frightened by the masks, while older children and adults
argued that the characters were not realistic. A new format was later developed for a
program entitled By the Fireside, using school children as actors and participants. Each
show opens with children dancing and singing traditional songs that foreshadow the
moral message of the story of the day. The program uses Akan, which is understood by
roughly 60 percent of the population, and English, which is the national language. The
studio set represents a rural village. Two storytellers occupy center stage and the children
are gathered around as the audience. Stories are based on traditional tales, but they often
interweave contemporary themes about urban life and national politics. Like traditional
oral forms of education, most of the programs are very didactic, with moralistic messages
such as do not be greedy, work together, tell the truth, and respect your elders. After a
tale is told, individual children are asked to say what they have learned, and the correct
answer is then repeated.
In Nigeria, the regional broadcasting service of Kano State (CTV) produces numerous
television dramas that build on oral traditions. One very popular situation comedy,
Kuliya, is named after the Hausa legal court. The program is in the Hausa language and it
features the conniving activities of a man named Buguzum, his wife Hajiya, and the loyal
servants who try help them out of their dilemmas. The plot structure resembles that of
trickster stories and episodes always have a clear-cut moral message. Following the
folklore tradition in which character names are metaphors that reveal personality traits,
the name Buguzum symbolizes an overbearing person who beats or thrashes others. As
with the Ghanaian television adaptations, the Kano TV dramas are not just reenactments
of traditional stories. They address contemporary problems, for example, dealers who sell
fraudulent tour packages for pilgrimage trips to Mecca or thieves who numb their victims
with drugged kola nuts.
Reciprocal Influences Between Oral Traditions and Electronic Media
The preceding examples illustrate the two-way influence between oral traditions and the
electronic media in Africa. Both the content and the style of numerous mass media genres
are greatly influenced by indigenous traditions. At the same time many indigenous
communication genres have been transformed by the presence of electronic media. In
Mali, for example, the popular broadcast of griot music on national radio has resulted in a
gradual alteration of song messages, text structures, harmonic patterns and even social
functions. Mass media introduce new possibilities for both production and reception, and
they are also caught up in different political and economic arenas. In the traditional
context, there is a hereditary bond between patron and musician, and the patron is the
central addressee of the song’s message. Radio, television, and the recording industry
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have created a whole new set of commercial opportunities, however. Many griot artists
are more interested in building careers through electronic media than through historical
social relationships. They produce praise songs about people whom they do not know
well. In the process, the textual features of historical chronicle are diminished and
replaced by excessive flattery and ordinary conversation.
Even everyday language use is influenced by the mass media. Radio Zambia has
inspired a range of linguistic innovations in popular speech. For example, the name of the
Chongololo radio program, a show about wildlife preservation, has become a derogatory
term for Zambians who try to act like Europeans. Other program titles, such as “Over to
You,” are used in conversations to joke and to create a friendly rapport. This is analogous
to the way that media discourse such as the Star Trek phrase “beam me up” circulates in
American culture. Because of their high visibility and mass reach, radio and television
can be important catalysts for language learning and language change, They contribute to
the circulation and valorization of a set of standard phrases and key words in public
culture.
One can conclude from these many cases that the rise of electronic media does not
pose a strong threat to oral traditions in Africa. From its beginnings, African broadcasting
has drawn extensively from a rich array of oral traditions such as drama, storytelling and
oratory. The postcolonial period has seen an even greater experimentation with
indigenous genres in mass media. African nations and international agencies alike are
discovering how indigenous communication forms can be integrated into mass media for
health education, farming campaigns, and cross-cultural exchange. Discussion forums
that take place in face-to-face village settings can also occur on a mass scale with talk
radio programs. The dynamic interaction between oral traditions and mass media poses a
challenge for simplistic dichotomies between “tradition” and “modernity,” and it
highlights the very vibrant nature of communication in African societies.
References
Barber, Karin, ed. 1997. Readings in African Popular Culture. Bloomington: Indiana University
Press.
Bourgault, Louise Manon. 1995. Mass Media in Sub-Saharan Africa. Bloomington: Indiana
University Press.
Cancel, Robert. 1986. Broadcasting Oral Traditions: The “Logic” of Narrative Variants—The
Problem of “Message.” African Studies Review 29, no. 1:60–70.
Fardon, Richard, and Graham Furniss, eds. 2000. African Broadcast Cultures: Radio in Transition.
London: James Currey.
Gerbner, George, Hamid Mowlana, and Kaarle Nordenstreng, eds. 1993. The Global Media
Debate: Its Rise, Fall, and Renewal. Norwood: Ablex.
Ginsburg, Faye. 1994. Culture/Media: A (Mild) Polemic. Anthropology Today 10, no. 2:5–15.
Heath, Carla W. 1997. Children’s Television in Ghana: A Discourse About Modernity. African
Affairs 96, no. 383:261–75.
Mugambi, Helen Nabasuta. 1994. Intersections: Gender, Orality, Text, and Female Space in
Contemporary Kiganda Radio Songs. Research in African Literatures 25, no. 3:47–70.
——. 1997. From Story to Song: Gender, Nationhood, and the Migratory Text. Gendered
Encounters: Challenging Cultural Boundaries and Social Hierarchies in Africa, eds. Maria
Grosz-Ngate and Omari H.Kokole. New York: Routledge.
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Mytton, Graham. 1983. Mass Communication in Africa. London: Edward Arnold.
Schulz, Dorothea. 1997. Praise without Enchantment: “Griots,” Broadcast Media, and the Politics
of Tradition in Mali. Africa Today 44, no. 4:443–64.
Spitulnik, Debra. 1993. Anthropology and Mass Media. Annual Review of Anthropology 22:293–
315.
——. 1996. The Social Circulation of Media Discourse and the Mediation of Communities.
Journal of Linguistic Anthropology 6, no. 2:161–87.
——. Forthcoming. Media Connections and Disconnections: Radio Culture and the Public Sphere
in Zambia. Durham: Duke University Press.
Ugboajah, Frank Okwu, ed. 1985. Mass Communication, Culture and Society in West Africa.
München: Zell.
DEBRA SPITULNIK
See also Government Policies toward Folklore; Radio and Television Dramas;
Women Pop Singers of Mali
EPICS: OVERVIEW
In Africa, the term epic is applied to a wide range of lengthy oral poetic narratives,
usually performed by a specialist, often with musical accompaniment. The subject of the
narrative is usually seen as historical, although the nature of the history involved will
vary from myths and legends of origin to recent historical anecdote, and the characters
are considered heroic in local terms. Performances will often incorporate songs, as a part
of the action or as praise of characters within the story (and their descendents among the
audience), and in some cases may include dancing. Recorded lengths of performances
range from half hour to a continuous seven-night narrative.
Traditions of oral epic performance are found across Africa, and for convenience may
be divided into three groups on the basis of geography, content, and performance
features. One group, probably the smallest, represents African adaptations of Arabic epic
traditions: this includes the cycle of the Bani Hilal through northern Africa, especially in
Egypt and Tunisia, whose hero, Abu Zayd, is a black poet (Connelly 1986), and along the
east coast a number of Swahili epics known generically as utenzi (Knappert 1983). Some
Swahili epics are translations of Arabic texts (Herakili, Ras al-Ghul); at least one,
Liyongo Fumo, represents an adaptation of local material to this imported form. Liyongo
was a prince and a poet, and his preserved songs seem to provide the core of his
narrative. Performance of these epics has not been exhaustively documented, but appears
to be principally a recitation of a memorized text, and manuscripts play an important role
in the diffusion of stories. The texts employ an adapted Arabic metrical scheme.
Throughout central Africa, and extending west and south, there is an epic tradition that
is the vehicle for traditions of origin centered on a culture hero such as Mwindo of the
BaN-yanga, Lianja of the Mongo, or Ozidi of the Ijo. Myth overpowers history in these
epics, and the biography of the hero provides the matrix in which the numerous (and
variable) episodes of the cycle may fit. The Swahili Liyongo and the Malagasy Ibonia
may be connected to this tradition, as also might southern African trickster figures such
as the Zulu Hlakanyaka. The hero is typically a precocious, almost monstrous, child who
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is born to avenge his father or to struggle with him. The hero also engages in a number of
adventures that may carry him into the heavens, below the earth or the waters, and to the
land of the dead. The hero is typically accompanied by a female relative who serves as
protector, inspiration, and manager. Performances typically feature a master-singer (who
has been initiated into the practice through occult means) accompanied by an ensemble,
and take place in a relatively public space. The master-performer narrates, sings, and
mimes the action with a considerable degree of audience participation. The verbal
element consists of a mix of prose and songs.
A subgroup of these central African traditions is found among the Fang peoples of
Gabon and Cameroon, and is known as the mvett. The term designates the instrument (a
bamboo chordophone) and the genre. The mvett centers not on a given hero, but on an
entire world (of times gone by) in which the immortals of the clan of Engong confront the
mortals of the clan of Oku in a never-ending series of conflicts. The performer is thus
free to plot the story and to embellish it in any effective way. Warriors struggle through
magical obstacles rather than against weapons, and the magic is clearly a counterpart to
modern technology. The mvett plays somewhat more than do the hero-centered cycles
with romantic complications; the women who often accompany the men on their
adventures are lovers rather than siblings.
Throughout West Africa, in a region centered in the Sahel and bounded roughly by
Niger and Senegal, is the third and largest group of epics, unified by the social position of
the performer, internationally known as the griot and at home by a variety of local terms:
jeli or jali, gawlo, mabo, gesere, gewel. The performers are members of an endogamous
status group, and this institution is shared among a number of neighboring peoples:
various Mande groups such as the Soninke, the Mandinka, and the Bamana, as well as the
Fula, the Wolof, and the Songhay. The practice of singing epics also seems to have
spread among the groups, although each shows a distinct repertoire of stories and an
idiomatic style of narration. Political history provides the narrative foundation for these
epics, although in many cases the historical element is purely a veneer. The action,
however, is human centered and takes place in something close to the immediate past:
Mwindo’s visits to other planes do not recur here. Magic serves to protect or destroy
warriors, and to bring victory, and where magic does bring victory it is almost always
associated also with treachery.
The best-known epic of this region is certainly the epic of Sundiata, founder of the
empire of Mali. An influential prose version was published by D.T. Niane in 1960
(English translation in 1965) and has inspired further work. There are dozens of
published accounts of his life and a growing body of recordings from Mali, Guinea, and
the Gambia. This story is centered on a hero, although a “full” epic will usually begin
well before his birth with a migration from Mecca or some account of the creation of the
world. In childhood, Sunjata is crippled by hostile sorcery, and the high point of the epic
may be the moment when, impelled by his fury at an insult to his mother, he rises to his
feet and takes his first steps to uproot a baobab. He later goes into exile to avoid conflict
with a brother, and, while he is absent, Sumanguru the sorcerer-blacksmith invades the
Mande and oppresses the people. Sunjata is summoned back to defeat him, which he does
with the help of his sister. After her brother has been defeated a number of times, she
seduces Sumanguru to learn the secret of his power, and so Sunjata is able to overcome
him.
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The traditions of Segou provide another corpus whose wealth is of a different order.
The epics of Segou constitute a rough cycle, which is based on a selective king-list
(Wolof epics offer the same organization) and recount the history of the kingdom from
the early eighteenth century to the early 19th century. Many of the most popular pieces
deal with the conquests of the last king, Da son of Monzon, and establish an almost
conventional pattern: a vassal or neighbor insults Segou, and after initial setbacks a way
is found (often through seduction) to defeat him. The Bamana traditions of Segou interact
very closely with the Fula epics from the adjacent region of Massina, and there seems
some evidence for Soninke contribution as well. In this polyglot environment, epics lose
much of their historical weight and develop along purely narrative and artistic lines. A
number of other groups in this broad region also offer documented epic traditions: the
Songhay, the Mandinka of the Gambia, and the Wolof. Many of these focus upon
nineteenth-century heroes upon one side or another of the Islamic movements of the
period.
Performance practice varies somewhat from group to group and over time, but is
centered upon a male master-narrator who in the Mande is accompanied at the least by
his naamu-sayer, an apprentice who responds at each line with encouraging words, and
possibly by accompanists. Women often participate for lyric passages and clan-praises,
which in some sense are their special domain. Musical instruments include the balafon,
the wooden xylophone, and various sorts of harp-lutes: the kora, the ngoni (a widespread
four-stringed instrument also known as the molo or the hoddu) and now also guitars.
This region also offers a nonhistorical corpus of epics best documented among the
Mande peoples: that of the hunters. The late Malian hunters’ bard Seydou Camara has
bequeathed a considerable body of recorded material, which is now being increased by
others. Hunters’ epics focus on the condition of the hunter, as defined in terms of society
rather than natural history. While a staple plot element involves a monstrous beast that a
hunter must slay, the resolution often turns on the hunter’s relations with his wife, and
she is the key to his success. Many of these narratives occur as folktales rather than epics
among neighboring peoples.
Although the earliest attempt to convey an African epic in print goes back at least to
1856, and the collector Leo Frobenius devoted a volume to the “minstrelsy of the Sahel”
(1921), doubts have persisted until relatively recently about the existence of African epic.
The growing mass of collected and published material dispels those doubts, and the
challenge now is one of analysis and appreciation. A valuable early survey is that of
Daniel Biebuyck (1976), somewhat amplified with additional Swahili material by
Knappert (1983). In his dissertation (1978) and in his published edition of the Epic of
Son-Jara, John W. Johnson has attempted to define the criteria of African oral epic, while
Isidore Okpewho has approached epic traditions from the perspective of the Parry-Lord
school of oral composition. Working in French, at first with Bamana traditions, Lilyan
Kesteloot has produced a number of valuable analytic essays and editions, and in
collaboration with Bassirou Dieng has produced a study and anthology (1997).
References
Belcher, Stephen. 1998. Epic Traditions in Africa. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
African folklore
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Biebuyck, Daniel. 1976. The African Heroic Epic. In Heroic Epic and Saga, ed., Felix Oinas.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press. 336–367.
Connelly, Bridget. 1986. Arabic Folk Epic and Identity. Berkeley: University of California Press.
Frobenius, Leo. 1921. Spielmannsgeschichten der Sahel. Atlantis VI. Iena: Eugen Diederichs. Rpr.,
Martin Sändig.
Johnson, John W. 1978. The Epic of Son-Jara: An Attempt To Define the Model for African Epic
Poetry. 3 vols. Ph. D. Dissertation, Indiana University.
——. 1986. The Epic of Son-Jara according to Fa-Digi Sisoko: A West African Tradition.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Johnson, John W., Thomas Hale, and Stephen Belcher. 1997. Oral Epics from Africa: Voices from
a Vast Continent. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Kesteloot, Lilyan, and Bassirou Dieng. 1997. Epopées d’Afrique noire. Paris: Karthala.
Knappert, Jan. 1983. Epic Poetry in Swahili and Other African Languages. Leiden: E.J.Brill.
Niane, D.T. 1965. Sundiata: An Epic of Old Mali. Trans. G.D.Pickett. New York: Longman.
Okpewho, Isidore. 1979. The Epic in Africa: Toward a Poetics of the Oral Performance. New
York. Columbia University Press.
Seydou, Christiane, ed. and trans. 1976. La geste de Hambodedio ou Hama le rouge. Classiques
africains. Paris: Armand Colin.
Thoyer, Annik, ed. and trans. 1995. Récits épiques des chasseurs bamanan du Mali. Paris:
L’Harmattan.
STEPHEN BELCHER
See also Central African Folklore; Myths; West Africa: Overview
EPICS: LIONGO EPIC OF THE
SWAHILI
The Swahili inhabit the East African coast and adjacent islands. They are also scattered in
different parts of the East African interior and in the Persian Gulf. They had become a
distinct culture by the ninth century CE on the coast of southern Somalia and northern
Kenya. It is impossible to determine precisely when a distinctly Swahili culture emerged,
for the East African coast seems to have been settled by precursors of the Swahili as early
as the first century CE. These were agricultural and maritime people.
Swahili folklore incorporates indigenous African elements and imported ones. The
indigenous creations include songs, folktales, and local legends. Many of these are shared
by the people who populate the interior of the continent, with whom the Swahili had been
in contact for centuries. Long-distance trade, whereby people of the interior came to the
coast and the Swahili went inland, was the major reason for these contacts. This process,
naturally, led to the sharing of folklore. Elements of the folklore of central and southern
Africa became integrated into Swahili folklore. Early collectors of Swahili folklore on the
East African coast were able to record tales from freed slaves who came from such
distant places as Malawi.
Among the most notable forms of indigenous folklore is the the Liongo epic tradition,
which consists mainly of narratives and songs about the hero, Liongo Fumo, a great
warrior, dancer, and composer and singer of songs. Liongo was so popular that he
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incurred the envy of the ruling king, who feared that Liongo might usurp the throne. The
epic is essentially about attempts by the king to kill Liongo, which succeed only after
Liongo’s son is sent to find out the secret about Liongo’s vulnerability, and then kill him.
All the events of this epic take place on the Kenya coast.
The external elements in Swahili folklore are mostly from Arabic, Iranian, and Indian
traditions. From its beginnings, Swahili culture was influenced by sea-faring outsiders
from the Persian Gulf area, who brought Islam to the Swahili. In time, Islam became a
major characteristic of Swahili culture. These outsiders many of whom settled on the East
African coast and became Swahili, made significant contributions to Swahili folklore.
These include many epic tales based on the Islamic tradition about the activities of
Prophet Muhammad and his followers, not to mention the Tales of a Thousand and One
Nights. Such figures as emperor Haroun Al-Rashid, as well as Abu Nuwas, a trickster
who is celebrated throughout the Middle East and Gulf area, are celebrated in Swahili
folklore.
Swahili folklore reflects the agricultural and maritime base of Swahili culture. Tales,
songs, beliefs, proverbs and other forms abound, dealing with the sea and its creatures,
real or imagined. Agricultural songs coexist alongside sailors’ songs, tales about
fishermen, and stories of the sea and the mythical forces and creatures in it holds.
As in other African folklore traditions, the various forms of Swahili folklore are not
isolated entities, but interact among themselves in various ways and constitute a dynamic
system. Proverbs, for example, might be based on folktales; they appear in the form of
songs and are also projected in tales. There are tales that elaborate on the messages of
proverbs, songs, and proverbs, which allude to tales, and so forth.
Unlike most African folklore traditions, Swahili folklore has developed in a culture
with a long history of literacy and urbanization. Writing has existed in Swahili culture for
about a thousand years, resulting in written records of much Swahili folklore. The oral
folklore and the written versions influenced have influenced each other through the ages.
Towns have been a part of Swahili cultural experience for over a millennium. Swahili
has much folklore dealing with or based on the urban experience. Urban legends and tales
dealing with the divide between town and country are a key feature of Swahili folklore.
The Liongo epic embodies and illustrates the complex history of orality, literacy, and
urbanization in Swahili culture. Swahili folklore was originally an oral tradition,
consisting mainly of songs and narratives. Later some of these forms were written down;
oral folklore also inspired written compositions, especially in poetry. It is thus impossible
to draw a distinct line between oral and written dimensions of the Liongo epic. On a
general level, there has been a complex interaction between the oral and written tradition
in Swahili culture, which complicates the situation of Swahili folklore. The Liongo epic
is also largely an urban phenomenon, in the sense that most of its events have an urban
setting.
References
Steere, Edward. 1870. Swahili Tales, As Told by Natives of Zanzibar. London: Society for
Promoting Christian Knowledge.
Taylor, W.E. 1924. African Aphorisms, or Saws From Swahililand. London: The Sheldon Press.
JOSEPH L.MBELE
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See also East African Folklore: Overview
EPICS: WEST AFRICAN EPICS
In Africa, even in societies that have a system of writing (borrowed or invented), the goal
of every text emanating from the corpus of traditional literature, and intended for verbal
performance, is to enter into the global sociocultural context. The epic, more so than any
other form of discourse, has conserved this quality of oral production destined to be
received by a public. Its semantic message is inseparable from its pragmatic scope, and
its delivery is experienced as a sort of ritual. The tradition is thus perpetuated through
ideological representations and specific values that are illustrated by heroes and their
deeds, and through a sense of communion experienced in exaltation induced by the
particular form of this type of text and the status and role of its performer. In this
ritualistic aspect, the feeling of identity on which a community is grounded and which
assures cohesion and solidarity is constantly revived.
In order to elicit exaltation—a key notion in the ethics and aesthetics of the epic
narratives—every textual and extratextual resource is brought into play. In addition to the
storyline in which the action and the actors are always characterized by absolutism and
paroxysm (universal signs of heroism), the epic combines the power of the word with that
of music which plays a fundamental role as much by its themes (i.e., melodies supporting
and rhyming the words, and musical phrases identifying a certain hero or a particular
action) as by the specific instruments indispensable for the recitation. The bards (or
griots) insist that these instruments “speak” and that they even “communicate the words
of the ancestors” to their listeners. If the narrative is not accompanied by music and
narrated by a designated performer, it loses its status as epic and merely functions as an
informative piece on such and such a character or an event.
The identifying and mobilizing nature of the epic in Africa explains in and of itself the
extremely diverse production of epic narratives, insofar as the specific focal points of the
self-identity of each group are conditioned by its ecological and historical background,
social and political organization, ethical and religious values, or general worldview. In
this respect, Africa offers a rich range of situations: the texts published to date allow us to
recognize several types of orientations that can be qualified as mythological, historical,
“corporative,” and religious epics.
Whereas the epic of a mythological type is found essentially in Central Africa, the
three other types are common in West Africa.
Historical Epics
Even though the epics of West Africa have legendary features, they draw upon a
historical base and celebrate characters who have had an impact on their times. In effect,
the history of the entire area is marked by the building of great centralized empires whose
internal organization was based on a hierarchical class system in which each saw his
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place assigned by his birthright, status, and social function; this is particularly true of the
griot who, through his inherited status, plays a predominant role as a verbal artist,
caretaker of the historical and epic “literary” heritage, and privileged mediator in all the
workings of the society. The bards, categorized as genealogists and historiographers,
have the prerogative of narrating the epics and of reciting the mottoes that identify the
important figures.
The dialogue between history, legend, and myth varies from group to group. One may
thus find epics that are metaphorical and apologetic interpretations of historical
chronicles, such as the numerous narratives concerning the reign of Jaara reported by the
traditional Soninke griots or the long “frescoes” covering the reign of the Damels of
Cayor over four centuries, developed by Wolof griots during enthronement or funeral
ceremonies. Others resemble the “Geste” recounting significant episodes around the
individual who, as historical as he might be, still dons the archetypal image of the epic
hero: gifted child, of extraordinary birth, who achieves his destiny after a long itinerary
punctuated by challenges, trials, and struggles where magic helps him vanquish tyrants or
djinns (“genies”). Maren Jagu of the Soninke and Zarbakaan of the Zarma also conform
to this heroic pattern.
Malinke Epics
The most celebrated Malinke epic is Sunjata, named after the hero. This well-known
historical figure succeeded in establishing the glorious Mali Empire after defeating the
king of Sosso, Sumanguru (or Sumaworo), thus influencing African history from the
thirteenth to the sixteenth centuries. Profoundly implicated in the country’s history as
liberator, unifier, and administrator of the Mande, Sunjata Keyta nonetheless appears in
the symbolic world of the epic that, combining real, mythical, and magical elements,
transforms his historical destiny by placing him in the creation myth of the first Mande
village founded by the three master-hunters of the celestial ark. Sunjata has become an
emblematic figure who, to this day, reaffirms the unity of the Manding world even
beyond national borders. This epic, which chronicles an entire historical and social
heritage, has become the symbol of the destiny of a vast group of people. It is thus the
object of a kind of institutionalization: the bards only produce the public version of the
official version of the “true history of the Mande,” which is preserved by a cenacle of
“the Masters of the Words” and transmitted, in a ritualized and confidential manner,
during the restoration of the sacred dwelling, Kama Blon of Kangaba, site of the
septennial cult of Mande everlastingness.
Through the emblematic character of Sunjata, this epic integrates the contours of
Malinke identity in the history of the Mande, from its mythical origins to its emergence
and territorial expansion and to its sociopolitical organization. For other peoples, such as
the Bamana and the Fulani (Peul), the epic is merely a pretext composed of facts and
historical figures, for fueling the ideology which governs their community, an ideology of
power for the first and liberty for the second.
However close they are to their subjects, textual form, and modes of expression
(rhythmical declamation and lute accompaniment), the Bamana and Fulani epics depart
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one from the other by the values they transmit and by the performer’s attitude toward the
text.
Bamana Epics
The Bamana epic, which centers around four great sovereigns, Biton Koulibali, Ngolo,
Monzon, and Da Diara (eighteenth through nineteenth centuries) is in fact based upon the
history of “The Force of Segou,” a title designating imperial power as well as the
sovereign himself, conferring to the latter an allegorical rather than a personal character
on the ruler. As for the epic action, it is essentially expressed in the “game of men,” for
example war, the principal occupation of a power base relying on its armed force and not
on its indigenous sociopolitical system capable of cementing Bamana unity. By
presenting Segou’s expansionist politics as involving territorial conquest by a mercenary
army only motivated by the appropriation of bounty, the Bamana epic seems to exalt a
quasi-feudal ideology of violence and power. By punctuating the narration with
digressions, commentaries, comparisons between past and present, the griot readjusts an
outdated story and a bygone ideology with present-day realities and values. This
procedure also allows the bard to exhibit his personal talents in order to capture the
admiration of the audience that is sensitive to his art of telling as to the epic’s contents.
Fulani Epics
In Senegal, the Geste of Samba Gueladio Diegui is the most renowned. This figure
belongs to the Denyanke dynasty founded by Koli Tenguella in the middle of the
sixteenth century, but history is completely transmuted by epic interpretation that
embroiders the story of this Samba on a stereotyped epic scheme. The victim of his uncle
who usurps the power owed to him, he regains power with the help of a magic weapon
(the gift of a water djinn) and an army of Moorish allies. An invincible hero, he
nevertheless encounters death because of a woman’s betrayal. This narravite, well
stocked with adventures, evokes that of Sunjata in the Malinke epic.
In Mali, the Fulani epic, which centers on figures of the eighteenth and nineteenth
centuries, falls under two categories: the legendary epic, where heroes of the pre-Islamic
times are extolled—Silamaka, Boubou Ardo, Ham-Bodedio are some of the most famous
who represent the pulaaku, traditional ideal of the Fulani; the other epic form that could
be considered close to historical chronicles relates events and deeds of heroes of the
Dina, the Fulani Empire of Massina, founded by Sekou Amadou in the beginning of the
nineteenth century.
Furthermore, the Fulani bard’s interpretation is austerely discreet and his performance
is sober. The implicit nature of his delivery reinforces the complicity between listener and
speaker. The narrator prefers including griots in the actual text alongside the hero who
incarnates the cardinal virtues and the socioethical code. This set of values constitutes the
essential, albeit ideal, expression of identity of the Fulani people whose orientation lies in
stressing total independence, not only from others but also toward the constraints inherent
in the human condition. The emphasis is thus placed on the hero himself and on the
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events he is involved in, however minute they may be, which are but pretexts to illustrate
his character and his behavior. The more lackluster the pretext, the more glorious the
exploit, and the more representative of the hero.
The epic action can generally be summarized as a transgression motivated by a
challenge and resulting in an agonistic situation involving two characters who are so
valorous that recourse to a magical weapon is necessary in order to declare a winner.
Here, features of Fulani identity are internalized, which can be explained by their
background. They are a pastoral people, who because of their diaspora, could only
maintain their identity at the most profound and inalienable level, that is, an ideology of
the self. This same personalization of the hero is found among other nomadic peoples
such as the Tuareg “Cycle of Aligurran,” a paragon of wisdom and perspicacity. Another
example comes from North Africa, the “Geste hilalienne,” which, through the characters
of Dyab and Zazya, glorifies the primordial virtues of a traditional nomadic world.
Corporate Epics
In addition to those inspired by true historical figures, there are epic narratives that can be
defined as corporate because they reflect an inherent professional specificity on which a
group bases the most pertinent sense of its identity and the reasons for its cohesion.
Whether found among entire populations, or in associations or confraternities within a
larger group, these narratives recount heroic struggles between djinns and the ancestral
master-hunters and master-fisherman who incarnate the representative virtues of the
profession but who, above all, have established the primordial pacts with the animal and
supernatural worlds on which rests the harmony between man and the natural world. As
guarantors of these pacts, the confraternities of the Bamana and the Malinke hunters
perpetuate the apprenticeship of practices that are as much technical as they are ritual.
The epics are performed with a musical accompaniment on the harp-lute at ceremonies
during which a community that is both professional and initiatory sees the models and
traits of its identity thus reaffirmed. The narrators of these texts, who are often healers or
diviners, are not statutory or hereditary bards. Their narratives, however, are constructed,
formulated, and performed along the same lines as the historical epic. The epic of
Sunjata, for example, begins with an episode linking it directly to certain hunting
narratives.
Other narratives of this type exist among the fishing populations such as the Fanta
Maa of the Bozo of Mali and the Pekane of the Subalb’e of Senegal, which is performed
without musical accompaniment during a magic ritual associated with the collective hunt
of the crocodile. This ceremony ostensibly is designed to placate the supernatural forces
in order to obtain control over the game and, above all, to rekindle the unity, cohesion,
and identity of this population.
One could also classify in this category of epic the daari of the Fulani (Peul) of Ferlo
in Senegal who, like the Subalb’e (fishermen) and the Seb’b’e (warriors), also focus their
narratives on their activities as cattle herdsmen. The scenes mainly center around the
cattle raids led by the Fulani from different clans, as a means of mutually affirming their
equal value with respect to their common ideology. Another text that passes as the
“cattle’s motto” is performed like an epic even though it recounts no other exploit than
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that of the perpetuation of the tradition of cattle raising. Called the Fantang, it is a sort of
mythical narrative, a kind of foundation text comparable to the corporate narratives, since
it justifies attribution of cattle raising to the Fulani, the establishment of such “caste
people” as coopers and bards, and special relationship among these three statutory
groups.
Religious Epics
Lastly, coming from the areas of Africa where Islam was implanted, there is a type of
written verse-epic, drawing on Arabic models such as the Fulani and Hausa qacida that
relate the jihad led by the great historical figures of past centuries in order to impose their
hegemony and ideology. These texts, one of the best known of which is the qacida in
Pulaar (the Fulani language of Senegal) based on the life of El Hadj Omar, are the work
of lettered “clercs” whose evident religious militancy does not lessen their poetic talent.
They are long poems destined to be memorized and sung in the mosques by the talibe
(students) or from door to door by blind beggars, for an illiterate public. A concern for
historical accuracy is complemented by a glorifying and hagiographic intention; however,
the exaltation of the heroes’ victories and deeds always involves a broader project that of
the victory of the soldiers of God over the world of infidels and the subsequent
establishment of divine law.
A Social Institution
The robust vitality of the epic genre in Africa (how many of these texts remain to be yet
discovered?) appears to be linked to the prevailing importance of the spoken word in the
cultures of this continent where oral communication has retained a status and an
efficiency which, in other cultures, has been greatly modified by writing. By its very
orientation, the epic cannot be dissociated from its public expression, both oral and
musical. Because of its identity and mobilizing functions, the epic is as much a literary
genre as it is a social institution. In effect, it is evident that what classifies these texts as
epics is their modality and their performance context, as well as their inclusion in a social
system to whose dynamics they significantly contribute, which only the power and the
resources of the spoken word can ensure.
References
Cisse, Youssouf Tata, et Wa Kamissoko. 1988. La grande Geste du Mali. Paris: Karthala-Arsan.
——. 1991. Soundjata, la gloire du Mandé. Paris: Karthala-Arsan.
Correra, Issagha. 1992. Samba Guéladio, épopée peule du Fuuta Tooro. Dakar: Initiations et
Études africaines 36. Université de Dakar-IFAN.
Coulibaly, Dosseh Joseph. 1985. Récit des chasseurs du Mali, Dingo Kanbili, une épopée des
chasseurs malinké. Paris: EDICEF, CILF.
Dumestre, Gérard et Kesteloot, Lilyan. 1975. La prise de Dionkoloni, episode de l’épopée
bambara. Classiques africains 15. Paris: Les Belles Lettres.
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Dumestre, Gérard. 1979. La geste de Ségou. Classiques africains 19. Paris: Les Belles Lettres.
Galley, Micheline & Ayoub, Abderrahman. 1983. Histoire des Beni Hilal et de ce qui leur advint
dans leur marche vers l’ouest. Classiques africains 22. Paris: Les Belles Lettres.
Hale, Thomas A., ed. and trans. 1996. The Epic of Askia Mohammed (recounted by N.Malio).
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Hayidara, Sh. T. 1987. La geste de Fanta Maa, archetype du chasseur dans la culture des Bozo.
Niamey: CELHTO.
Innes, Gordon 1974. Sunjata: Three Mandinka Versions. London: SOAS.
——. 1976. Kaabu and Fulaadu: Historical Narratives of the Gambian Mandinka. London: SOAS.
Johnson, John W. 1979. The Epic of Sunjata According to Magan Sisoko. Bloomington: Folklore
Pulications Group.
——. 1986. The Epic of Son-Jara. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Johnson, John W., T.Hale, and S.Belcher, eds. 1997. Oral Epics from Africa. Bloomington: Indiana
University Press.
Kesteloot, Lilyan et al. 1993. Da Monzo de Ségou, épopée bambara (1972), 4 fasc. Paris:
L’Harmattan.
Kesteloot, Lilyan, and D.Bassirou. 1997. Les épopées d’Afrique noire. Karthala Éditions UNESCO.
Meillassoux, Claude, L.Doucoure, and D.Simagha. 1967. Légende de la dispersion des Kusa.
épopée soninké. Dakar: IFAN.
Meyer, Gérard. 1991. Récits épiques toucouleurs. La vache, le livre, la lance. Paris: KarthalaACCT.
Mounkaila, Fatimata. 1988. Mythe et histoire dans la geste de Zarbakane. Niamey: CELHTO.
Ndongo, S.M. 1986. Le Fantang. poèmes mythiques des bergers peuls. Paris: Karthala-IFANUNESCO.
Ngaide, Mamadou Lamine. 1983. Le vent de la razzia, deux récits épiques des Peuls du Jolof.
Dakar: IFAN.
Niane, Djibril Tamsir. 1960. Soundjata ou l’épopée mandinque. Paris: Presence africaine.
Saada, Lucienne. 1985. La Geste hilalienne. Paris: Gallimard.
Seydou, Christiane. 1972. Silâmaka et Poullôri, récit épique peul raconté par Tinguidji. Classiques
africains 13. Paris: Les Belles Lettres.
——. 1976. La geste de Ham-Bodêdio ou Hama le Rouge. Classiques africains 18. Paris: les Belles
Lettres.
Sy, Amadou Abel. 1978. Seul contre tous, deux récits épiques des pêcheurs du Fouta Toro. DakarAbidjan: NEA, Traditions orales.
Thoyer, Annik. 1995. Récits épiques des chasseurs bamanan du Mali. Paris: l’Harmattan.
CHRISTIANE SEYDOU
See also French Study of African Folklore; West Africa: Overview
EQUATORIAL GUINEA (REPUBLIC OF
EQUATORIAL GUINEA)
Located on and off of central Africa’s western coast, Equatorial Guinea is a country of
452,000 living on two small islands (Bioko, formerly known as Fernando Po, and
Annobon) and a mainland territory that is called Rio Muni. Bordered by Cameroon to the
north and Gabon to the south, the country has an equatorial climate. Equatorial Guinea’s
capital and largest city is Malabo, which has a population of 58,000. Most of the
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country’s population is of the Fang group (80 percent), while 15 percent are Bubi, and 5
percent consist of various smaller groups. Spanish, Fang, Benge, Combe, Bujeba,
Balengue, Fernandino, and Bubi are the most widely spoken languages. Sixty percent of
the population is Catholic, while the remaining 40 percent are either Protestant or practice
traditional indigenous religions.
Until 1778, Portugal controlled this area, but then ceded it to Spain. On October 12,
1968, Equatorial Guinea gained its independence from Spain, only to form its own
repressive one-party republic. From independence until 1979, Equatorial Guinea was
ruled by the very sadistic Macias Nguema who led the country to a massive chaotic state
whereby tens of thousands of people were either murdered or died of disease and
starvation. During his reign, an additional one-third of the nation’s people went into exile.
The years following Nguema’s rule have not seen many great improvements, as the
economic situation is largely corrupt and environmental decay due to uncontrolled
logging has plagued the nation.
Though the country grows cocoa, coffee, timber, rice, yams, and bananas, most food is
still imported and malnutrition is rampant. Fishing, sawmilling, and palm oil processing
have been Equatorial Guinea’s main industries and sources of revenue. Bioko was
dominated by cocoa plantations worked primarily by migrant Nigerians. Unfortunately,
70 percent of the economy comes from foreign aid, mostly from Spain and France, who
compete for influence. Current exploitation of gas and oil by United States, France, and
Spain, however, may soon increase government revenues.
JENNIFER JOYCE
ERITREA (STATE OF ERITREA)
Located in the northeast corner of Africa, Eritrea is bordered by Sudan, Ethiopia,
Djibouti, and the Red Sea. The climate ranges from a hot and dry desert on the sea coast,
to cool and wet conditions in the central highlands. Eritrea has a population of nearly 4
million, with a large overseas immigrant population. Its capital and largest city is
Asmara, which is home to 400,000 people. Half of all Eritreans are ethnic Tigrays, 40
percent are Tigre and Kunama, 4 percent are Afar, 3 percent are Saho (Red Sea coast
dwellers), and 3 percent are made up of various smaller groups. Although there are many
languages spoken throughout the country, Tigrinya and Amharic are the predominant
ones. Although Arabic is accepted as an official language, English is used in higher
education settings. Muslims, Coptic Christians, Roman Catholics, and Protestant
compose the majority of the religious community.
Eritrea has a long colonial history that began in 1868 when it was first settled by
Italians. From 1941 to 1952 the British occupied the land until it became federated with
and later annexed by Ethiopia. After a three-decade long struggle led by the Eritrean
Liberation Front (ELF) and the Eritrean Popular Liberation Front (EPLF), Eritrea gained
its independence from Ethiopia on May 24, 1993, and became Africa’s newest nation.
During the long battle for liberation, between 60,000 and 70,000 people lost their lives.
An additional 700,000 people were forced into exile from the country. In 1998, a border
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conflict grew into a full-fledged war between Ethiopia and Eritrea with thousands more
being killed. Fortunately, a ceasefire was negotiated and UN peacekeepers moved in by
2001.
The status of women is among the best in Africa due to the war of liberation war. The
intensity of the struggle grew in the 1970s when the EPLF split from the ELF. A more
radical group, the EPLF had many women among its active members. In addition, the
EPLF discouraged female circumcision and granted women the right to own land and
choose their husbands in the areas that they liberated. Women are now assured of at least
30 percent representation in the legislative body.
Gold, copper, iron ore, and potash are Eritrea’s natural resources. The country’s
agricultural sector also produces sorghum, fish, lentils, tobacco, coffee, and sisal.
Eritrea’s main industries and sources of revenue are food processing, beverages, and
textiles. Since the end of the war the government has begun to restore agricultural and
communications infrastructure, and crop production has since increased. Medical services
and educational institutions are improving greatly.
JENNIFER JOYCE
ESTHETICS: BAULE VISUAL ARTS
The Baule now number about one million people. They traditionally lived in what is
called the Baule V, a region of wooded savannah that extends into the forest area of south
central Cote d’Ivoire. This was one of the last areas of West Africa to be penetrated by
Europeans, as heavy forest, a lack of navigable rivers, and the martial reputation of the
inhabitants protected it. The first French explorers entered the Baule area in the second
half of the nineteenth century, and the Baule were still actively resisting the colonial
regime in the first decade of the twentieth century. The first studies of the Baule were
done by French colonial administrators, in particular, Maurice Delafosse. There is no
single work which presents a basic ethnography of the Baule, although the combined
articles of Mona and Pierre Etienne give extensive information. Jean-Pierre Chauveau
studied many aspects of Baule culture in the 1970s and 1980s. Cyprien Arbelbide studied
Baule proverbs in 1973. Baule history has been studied by Jean-Noel Loucou and
Timothy Weiskel. Philip Ravenhill has written on Baule figures. The principal source on
Baule art is Susan Vogel’s catalogue for the recent exhibition Baule Art Western Eyes,
which has a bibliography of works in both English and French.
Our knowledge of Baule history makes it clear that the people have been in the
process of constant migration for at least several hundred years. Baule oral history states
that they were originally from the Ashanti area of Ghana, and that after losing the region
in an eighteenth-century dynastic struggle, they fled westward under the authority of their
queen, Aura Pokou, pursued by an Ashanti army. Arriving at the Comoe river in eastern
Cote d’Ivoire, they found it flooded and impassable. The queen consulted a diviner and
was told that she needed to sacrifice her most precious possession in order to lead her
people to safety. She threw her newborn child into the river, and the waters parted,
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allowing the people to escape. They traveled to what is now the town of Sakassou, where
she settled and from there the various Baule subgroups spread out.
Recent scholars (Garrard, Loucou, Vogel, Weiskel) tend to believe that the actual
process of Baule settlement and the formation of their culture must have taken place over
a millennium rather than over a couple hundred of years. Their language, political
organization, and their material culture are too changed from the original Ashanti
prototypes for the process to have been completed so quickly.
Baule culture combines some elements that remain almost indistinguishable from their
Akan originals (gold and bronze work, the forms and uses of stools and chairs, and the
use of prestige objects made of gold-covered wood) with others (carved wooden statues
and masks, systems of divination, and social organization) that do not seem to have
originated in Ghana, but are more similar to the practices of Ivorian groups. Unlike major
Ghanaian groups, they do not have a centralized state or institutions that extend beyond
the village level. Some current French historians posit that the Baule were a creation of
the colonial period, like many other African groups. There is, however, no question that
the people we call Baule speak one language and are culturally extremely similar.
Like the Ashanti, the Baule make extensive use of proverbs and proverbial
expressions. Speaking well is a very important part of personal prestige, and speaking
Baule well means expressing oneself indirectly through allusive expressions and
proverbs. These same proverbs are illustrated in bronze and gold objects and in the
decorative motifs on pottery and textiles. Like the Ghanian Akan, the Baule had a
currency based on the exchange of gold dust, and used bronze weights illustrating
proverbs to establish the value of gold. They also made (and continue to make) prestige
objects like staffs and flywhisks of gold covered wood, carved into forms that illustrated
proverbs. Although paper money has replaced gold dust as currency, gold and goldcovered objects are still displayed at funerals, and are considered part of a family treasure
that may never be sold.
The great importance of masks and masquerades in Baule culture is one of the
elements that distinguish them sharply from the Ghanaian Akan, who use almost no
masks, and even from the Akan groups in Cote d’Ivoire such as the Agni and the Akye,
who have only a few masks of which we are aware. The peoples now living to the west
and north of the Baule (the Guro and Yaure, the Wan and the Senufo) use many masks
which seem closely related in style and function to those of the Baule. It seems likely that
Baule masking traditions are strongly influenced by their Ivorian neighbors, in contrast to
their metalworking and ceramics, which are startlingly similar to those of their Akan
relatives to the East.
Essentially, the Baule have two kinds of masks. The first are small face masks carved
in a naturalistic style, worn with cloth costumes, and which can be seen by men, women,
and children. These are kept in the village, and portray women, men, and domestic
animals. Stylistically, they resemble the masks of the Guro and Yaure peoples.
Then there are the sacred men’s masks, which are kept in bush shelters, incarnate bush
spirits, are worn with raphia costumes, and are never seen by women, on pain of death.
These are large helmet masks, which portray ferocious-looking composite animals. They
resemble some masks of the Senufo and the Mande of Mali.
Despite the likelihood that Baule masks originated with other groups, they have, to a
remarkable extent, been “Baule-ized” in style. Whatever their diverse origins, Baule
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works in all media display a consistent set of esthetic preferences. Surfaces are carefully
worked to produce a smooth, shiny finish. Cloth, pottery, wood, and metal masks are all
covered with finely detailed decoration, frequently displaying design elements that refer
to proverbs.
The Baule express an esthetic preference for full, round, voluminous shapes and
closed forms in both their pots and statues. They seem to prefer things that seem to us
elegant and refined, and restrained rather than extroverted. Even the style of dancing
preferred by Baule women displays this esthetic, with its emphasis on subtle, restrained
movement.
A comparison with the esthetics of the neighboring Senufo people shows that the
Baule make rounded, finished objects, while the Senufo create taller, rougher, slightly
concave forms. While there are naturally some exceptions, the research done on Baule
esthetics, as displayed in their sculpture, by Susan Vogel shows a remarkably consistent
set of standards.
The Baule clearly enjoy looking at, talking about, and evaluating objects. An early
writer, Hans Himmelheber, used the Baule as an example of the existence of the “art for
art’s sake” esthetic in Africa. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that the Baule
simply take a connoisseur’s pleasure in objects that are well made and finely decorated.
References
Arbelbide, Cyprien. 1975. Les Bauole d’apres leurs dictons et proverbes. Abdijan: Ceda.
Chauveau, J.P., and J.P.Dozon. 1987. Au coeur des ethnics ivoiriennes…l’etat. L’etat
contemporain en Afrique. Paris: Harmattan.
Etienne, Pierre, and Mona Etienne. 1962–1964. L’organisation sociale des baoule. Étude Regionale
de Bouake. Abdijan: Ministere du Plan.
Ravenhill, Philip. 1980. Baule Statuary Art: Meaning and Modernization. Working Papers in the
Traditional Arts, No. 5. Philadelphia: ISHI.
——. 1996. Dreams and Reveries: Images of Otherworld Mates among the Baule of West Africa.
Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Press.
Vogel, Susan Mullin. 1997. Baule: African Art Western Eyes. New Haven: Yale University Press.
JEROME VOGEL
ESTHETICS
See Body Arts; Dress
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ETHIOPIA (PEOPLE’S DEMOCRATIC
REPUBLIC OF ETHIOPIA)
Located in northeastern Africa, Ethiopia is a landlocked country surrounded by Sudan,
Eritrea, Djibouti, Somalia, and Kenya. The country’s climate ranges from temperate in
the highlands, to arid in the lowlands. Of Ethiopia’s some 66,180,000 people, 40 percent
are Oromo, 32 percent Amhara and Tigre, 9 percent Sidamo, and 19 percent consist of
various other groups. The most widely spoken languages in the country are Amharic,
Tigrinya, Oromo, Somali, Arabic, Italian, and English. Between 45 percent and 50
percent of the population is Muslim, 35 percent to 40 percent is Ethiopian Orthodox
Christian, while the remaining population practices animist and various other religious
traditions. Addis Ababa, the nation’s capital, is also its largest city, with 2,220,000
inhabitants.
Ethiopia is the oldest independent country in Africa. The nation has one of Africa’s
oldest histories, which reaches back to the Axum empire of the first century CE. The
beginning of modern Ethiopia, however, was developed by Emperor Tewodros in 1885.
Unlike the rest of the continent’s nations, Ethiopia successfully defeated attempts made
to colonize the land. In 1936, however, Fascist Italy invaded Ethiopia and, while it did
not colonize, it ruled the land until 1941. Emperor Haile Selassie was known as Ras
Tafari before being crowned emperor; the name is still in use among the Rastafarians of
Jamaica, who consider him a sacred figure. Although widely recognized outside of Africa
as great leader, Selassie’s somewhat dictatorial rule was finally overthrown by a military
coup in 1974.
The next period of Ethiopian history was marked by the violent rule of the Dirgue, a
military council headed by Megistu Haile Miriam. He was overthrown in 1991.
In the past forty years, Ethiopia has suffered from periodic famine, drought, and
interethnic political tensions. In 1961, the Eritrean liberation movement began. This
battle lasted until 1993, when Ethiopia finally granted Eritrea its independence. In 1998,
another border dispute erupted into warfare but a ceasefire was accepted a few years
later, with UN peacekeepers as monitors. An unstable government, famine, and
continuing interethnic violence have marred the nation and the economy has
subsequently suffered.
Ethiopia’s natural resources include potash, salt, gold, copper, and platinum, while
agricultural production revolves around primarily coffee, hides and skins, and agricultural
products. Principle industries are processed foods, textiles, cement, building materials,
and hydroelectric power.
Ethiopia’s history dates back two thousand years and the nation’s cultural
achievements are likewise extensive. Addis Ababa, the nation’s capital, is the
Organization of African Unity’s headquarters. The most spectacular arts are found in the
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Christian Coptic churches and monasteries. In addition to the buildings themselves, the
clergy’s regalia and the accompanying sacred manuscripts demonstrate a vibrant artistic
tradition.
JENNIFER JOYCE
EVANS-PRITCHARD, SIR EDWARD
EVAN (1902–1973)
The late Sir Edward Evan Evans-Pritchard, professor of social anthropology at Oxford
University from 1947 to 1970, was one of the first and most dedicated individuals in the
field of African studies to encourage the collection and study of indigenous folklore. As a
student of Malinowski at the London School of Economics in the 1920s, Evans-Pritchard
was deeply influenced by his mentor’s insistence that a primary goal of fieldwork was to
amass “native” texts verbatim and record them in the vernacular.
For Evans-Pritchard the task was twofold. First, he was well aware, in the 1920s and
1930s, that African peoples were in the throes of massive and unstoppable pressures of
social change, a direct consequence of European colonial policies. Thus, he saw the
collection of folklore and oral tradition as paramount to providing a record of social and
cultural worlds as they might have existed in precolonial Africa. This general effort might
well be called an effort at salvage ethnography. In North America, this tradition had been
initiated by Franz Boas, and by the 1920s many anthropologists working with indigenous
peoples in North America could only record “memory cultures,” oral traditions that were
relics of societies long transformed by European colonization.
A second major goal of Evans-Pritchard, also via the inspiration of Malinowski, was
to record local texts, legends, and folklore as a means to understand and interpret the
ethos of a people, or characteristic features of their mode of thinking and classification.
Thus, a local text might be regarded as a “pure” form of ethnographic representation
when recorded in the vernacular, unblemished by secondary translation and exegesis.
With these critical points of method in mind one can turn to a brief assessment of
Evans-Pritchard’s achievements in the field of African folklore. It may be said that in the
modern era no anthropologist published a greater volume of folklore and texts than
Evans-Pritchard. Most of this material focused on Azande traditions, a people he lived
with in the Sudan for some twenty months in the middle 1920s. The publication of
Azande texts and folklore was indeed a consistent theme throughout his career amid his
other published work, voluminous in its own right. A considerable portion of his work on
the Azande was collected and written by Azande field assistants he hired, a practice
following that of Boas and George Hunt in their early American anthropological research
among Northwestern coastal peoples. All told, he published some twenty articles on
Azande custom and tradition, which included extensive vernacular texts. In addition, at
his own expense, he published a series of short monographs, as well as three larger works
solely concerned with Zande folklore, most notably, The Zande Trickster (1967) and Man
and Woman among the Azande (1974).
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242
Beyond his concern for publishing all the Zande texts and folklore he collected from
his own fieldwork (he claimed to have published only a fraction of what he collected),
Evans-Pritchard played a key role in initiating and promoting African folk traditions on a
par with established literary traditions. This is most notable in his founding, with Godfrey
Leinhardt, Ruth Finnegan, and W.H.Whiteley, the Oxford Library of African Literature
(Oxford University Press).
In retrospect, one can argue that Evans-Pritchard played a leading role in the study of
African folklore, transforming it from a preprofessional antiquarian hobby, typical of
early European travelers, into a respected and important sub-field of African studies.
References
Beidelman, T.O. 1974. A Bibliography of the Writings of E.E. Evans-Pritchard. London:
Travistock Publications.
Burton, John W. 1992. An Introduction to Evans-Pritchard. Fribourg: University Press of
Switzerland.
JOHN W.BURTON
See also Divination; Tricksters in African Folklore; Tricksters: Ture of the
Azande
EVIL EYE
The belief complex referred to as Evil Eye (often capitalized) exists in Africa only in
North African societies; reports of it south of the Sahara should be reexamined. It
designates a complex system of beliefs and behaviors, protection and cure, centering on
the belief in a harmful power that is projected through the direct gaze of a person. Some
people have the power and some do not; who might have it is not always known, and its
projection may be willful or involuntary. The power is stimulated by envy, anger, or
malice. Children, the elderly, and sick people are especially vulnerable, but Evil Eye can
inflict any manner of harm upon anyone’s person, household, or property. Apotropaic
amulets, often representations of horns, eyes, open hands, mirrors, or blue gemstones, are
worn or fixed to possessions, and the walls and doorways of houses. People may make
verbal disclaimers after a flattering remark about another person, or that person’s family
or property (i.e., “What a beautiful child! Oh, but it seems fussy, is it well?”).
If divination reveals Evil Eye as the cause of some misfortune, a specific ritual is
available to exorcize or neutralize it. Tension and suspicion are inherent in society; like
witchcraft, Evil Eye offers a credible explanation for misfortune, and sociologically it has
been seen to have “social control” functions, making people mindful of their social
manners lest they be suspected. Evil Eye belief complex is a variant of classical
witchcraft beliefs, but in many areas it coexists with witches, or beliefs in various beings
of the night who do all the evil things attributed to witches elsewhere.
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Influenced by Freud’s speculations in his essay, “Das Unheimlich” (1917–1920), Evil
Eye was long generally held to be a “universal superstition” (Schoeck 1955). Careful
cross-cultural research by John M.Roberts in 1976, and contributors to the two most
comprehensive volumes on the subject, by Maloney (1976) and Dundes (1981), showed
that the phenomenon is localized in Indo-European and Semitic areas of the Near East
and circum-Mediterranean, from India to Spain, and the North African Maghreb. It
diffused into northern Europe, the British Isles, and specific areas of Spanish influence in
the Americas, notably Mexico. In nearly all areas it is closely associated with envy;
indeed, in much scholarship it has come to be regarded as synonymous with that emotion.
In these areas, concepts of Evil Eye are complex and institutionalized, reaching their
most elaborate form in late medieval Italy, where the power was used by the classic
supernatural witch, the strega, who flew by night, poisoned wells, inflicted disease,
kidnapped and ate children, and committed various other horrible and obscene acts, and
who, in the Christian context, was the earthly agent of Satan; it was also used by a
suspected agent who persists in the modern world, the jettatore, who, when inflamed by
envy (invidia) or other negative human emotions will cast mal’occhio, Evil Eye. It is
counteracted by gratia, (divine grace), bestowed by God, expressed as a blessing.
Evil Eye is coincident with Arab culture throughout the Maghreb; it predates the
spread of Islam. It is also reported in Ethiopia and Sudan. Generalizations about the
phenomenon are problematic, however, as cultural conceptions of the phenomenon may
vary. In Algeria, Evil Eye (ain) is a mystical power inherent in some individuals, clearly
a variant of witchcraft beliefs, distinct from sahir, sorcery is learned evil magic (see
Jansen 1987); it is counteracted by baraka, blessing invoking God’s holy power. Among
the Arab Rubatab in Sudan, the power of Evil Eye is classified as sahir, and it may be
cast through words (Ibrahim 1994).
Some general and specific attributes are similar to those in the Middle East. A cure
among the Shilluk of Sudan is accomplished by blinding the eye of a sheep; dried sheep’s
eyes are protective amulets in Iran. And as in some areas of the Middle East, in some
Sudanic areas it may be conceived as the province of special, low-class people. Among
the Amhara of Ethiopia (Reminick 1974), it is attributed to a castelike group of landless
craftspeople, referred to as buda, “evil eye people.” Among Amhara social mechanisms
to avoid suspicion, and methods of protection and cure, are perhaps simpler than but
otherwise similar to those employed in the Middle East or southern Europe; but the fear
of Evil Eye is pervasive and serves social functions valuable among subsistence-level
people. By identifying a potentially evil outsider, it strengthens social solidarity, but it
negates a sense of superiority, as it encourages people to extend social propriety to all,
and not to boast of their own good fortune, lest they arouse the envy of the evil “eye
people.”
Reports of “Evil Eye” elsewhere, especially in sub-Saharan societies, should be
reexamined. They certainly indicate specific cultural elaborations on the widespread,
probably universal, unease people feel at the direct stare of another, especially a
competitor, potential adversary, or stranger; they may indicate beliefs in dangerous power
transferable through the eyes. Such reports may also indicate that someone has looked
upon something he or she was forbidden to see: as in the Elizabethan, and biblical, sense,
“seeing” can mean “knowing.” The eyes are one of several means through which witches
and sorcerers are widely believed able to project malign influence, and envy or anger can
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trigger it. Beliefs in witches and/or sorcerers are found in all sub-Saharan African
societies, and references to “Evil Eye” among any of them are probably attributes of
these agents of supernatural evil. In several societies persons with red eyes, or with eye
disorders, may be suspected of being witches. Attributes of witches in tropical Africa are
similar to those in medieval Europe without their Christian trappings.
Thus, the occasional use of the term “evil eye” in the hundreds of ethnographic reports
of sub-Saharan African societies may be the ethnographer’s choice of label for a common
method of identification of, or attack by witches, such as J.G. Peristiany’s (1939) use of
the term for the Kipsigis. Robert and Barbara Levine (1966, 119–120) describe a named
malevolent power (okobiriria) transmitted through the eyes of some lightskinned Gusii,
usually women, which causes small objects to cling to and burrow into the skin of lightskinned infants, killing them if not rubbed off quickly with clarified butter. Gusii
consider lightly pigmented skin to be delicate, thin and easily permeable by supernatural
influence; darker-skinned people are less likely to project and to be affected by the
power. The belief, which Gusii say came from the Kipsigis, seems a peculiar variant on
the general sub-Saharan African belief in the witchcraft power, which is the corrupted
form of a personal power, usually named, that exists in everyone. Or the term evil eye
may be used as equivalent of concepts of “envy” or other negative emotions which
activate witches, and hence it may become a synonym for witchcraft itself; this seems to
explain Helmut Schoeck’s erroneous attribution of Evil Eye to Azande, and other
societies, in a widely reprinted article (1955).
It is interesting to note that among the Amhara, the buda have attributes identical to
those of witches in societies below the Sahara. The verb “to eat” most often describes the
buda’s attack; the buda can turn themselves into hyenas, or seduce their victims through
sexual suggestion. Reported also among the Shilluk, the evil-eye people can animate and
enslave corpses of the dead. It might be suggested that Evil Eye in the areas immediately
north of the Sahara is transitional between the forms in Arab areas, and the elaborate
witchcraft beliefs of societies to the south.
References
Dundes, Alan, ed. 1981. The Evil Eye: A Folklore Casebook. New York: Garland.
Ibrahim, Abdullahi A. 1994. Assaulting with Words: Popular Discourse and the Bridle of Shari’ah.
Evanston: Northwestern University Press.
Jansen, Willy. 1987. Women Without Men: Gender and Marginality in an Algerian Town. Leiden:
Brill.
Levine, Robert, and Barbara B.Levine. 1966. Nyansongo: A Gusii Community in Kenya. New
York: Wiley.
Maloney, Clarence, ed. 1976. The Evil Eye. New York: Columbia University Press.
Peristiany, J.G. 1939. The Social Institutions of the Kipsigis. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul.
Reminick, Ronald A. 1974. The Evil Eye Belief Among the Amhara of Ethiopia. Ethnology
13:279–91.
Schoeck, Helmut. 1955. The Evil Eye: Forms and Dynamics of a Universal Superstition. Emory
University Quarterly 11:153–61.
PHILLIPS STEVENS JR.
See also Sahir
African Americans
EWE
See Music
245
African folklore
246
F
FALASHA
See Jews of Ethiopia; Music: Arab and Jewish Music of North Africa; Northeastern
Africa
FANG
See Architecture; Central Africa
FESTIVALS: MUTOMBOKO FESTIVAL
OF THE LUNDA
You are the one who has assumed leadership.
Great One, you are the remnant of the ancient Royal
Highness.
The sovereign ruler who is as firmly planted as a
banana tree.
The strong one, you walk over the weak ones and
subdue even the those who resist your firm control.
(praise for Kazembe sung by Chipolobwe Mwadya
Misenga, 1989)
Mwata Kazembe is the traditional ruler of the Lunda people living in Zambia’s Luapula
Province. He is the center of an annual festival called the Mutomboko that is held every
year in the town that houses his capital, Mwansabombwe. The festival usually lasts two
days, with at least a third day, preceding the main events, dedicated to more informal
celebratory activities, such as dancing, music, drinking, and general revelry. There are
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usually several ceremonial events, some involving ritual activities that characterize each
Mutomboko festival. The gathering is marked by a high level of celebratory license, knit
together by the music, dance, and song of Lunda and visiting performers.
One of the objects of the festival is to celebrate the position of “perpetual” kingship
among the Lunda, and there is an emphasis on retellings and celebrations of seminal
events in Lunda history. These include accounts of the original migrations of Lunda
royalty and their soldiers into the area from the west, from what is now called the
Democratic Republic of the Congo. There is a much larger group of people who call
themselves Lunda, with links to the larger Luba group in the Congo. In fact, several
migrations have led to at least one more group of Lunda people settling in the
northwestern Province of Zambia. This latter group is closely associated with the
Ndembu and speak a language different from that spoken by the Luapula Lunda.
Nevertheless, both groups recognize their common ancestral ties by maintaining formal
cordial relationships, with their chiefs often attending each other’s festivals and
installments. They also readily acknowledge the Lunda king in the Congo, Mwata
Yamvwa, as their progenitor and traditional overlord.
The Mutomboko usually takes place on the last weekend in July, the date roughly
corresponding to the installment of Mwata Kazembe XVII, Paul Kanyembo Lutaba, in
1961. This Kazembe is credited with reviving and formalizing a set of older rites and
activities that have become the current festival. In its current form, the Mutomboko
ceremonies are preceded by a day or two of celebration and the bringing of gifts to
Mwansabombwe, the home or palace of Mwata Kazembe. The gifts come from all parts
of the Lunda area, consisting mostly of foodstuffs and locally brewed beer (made of
maize or finger-millet) and, occasionally, cash. Formal activities begin in the afternoon of
the day before the major rites and ceremonies. On this afternoon, there is a gathering of
elders and notables to conduct important business and the performance of dances meant
to celebrate the occasion and honor Kazembe. The elders and officials sit in a large
section just outside the wall of the palace, facing a small courtyard, ringed and partly
shaded by miyombo trees. A large crowd attends the ceremony, celebrating the events,
applauding the skills of the dancers and musicians, and praising the Mwata himself. This
ceremony is called the Mutentamo, and its specific purposes, as noted by several Lunda
scholars, are the:
1. Investiture of Lundahood on a non-Lunda citizen for gallantry or other achievements.
2. Installation of a member of the royal family, or an important councillor, to a hereditary
office, umwanso.
3. Removal of insignia of office from the holder for disloyalty to the Mwata and gross
misconduct.
4. Welcoming of an important visiting chief or dignitary from outside the Mwata’s
jurisdiction. (Chinyanta and Chiwale 1989, 35)
After the various ceremonies and addresses, mostly conducted by the Mwata’s
spokesman, Kazembe closes the ceremony by dancing an abbreviated version of the
Mutomboko, translated as “the dance of conquest,” to the cheers of the gathered crowd.
On the morning of the second and final day, Mwata Kazembe, dressed in a plain,
white, short-sleeved shirt, a white head scarf, and white pajama-like trousers, moves from
his home to a small shrine within the palace compound called the nakabutula. There, the
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keeper of the shrine smears the Mwata’s face and arms with an ochre-colored powder
called inkula. He then moves outside the western gate of the compound, near the site of
the previous day’s gathering, and visits the miyombo trees, where the royal grave keepers
give him permission to travel outside the boundaries of the palace for the ceremonial
activities he is about to conduct. He is further smeared with a white powder called
ulupemba. From that point, Kazembe is carried on an uncovered palanquin, called the
umuselo, sitting in what the Mwata calls his “coffin,” made of zebra skin and supported
by two thick poles, manned by eight carriers. They proceed to the banks of the Ng’ona
River, followed by dignitaries and the large crowd of people. When he is set down,
Kazembe must walk to a ritual barrier, a gate consisting of a spear held by several
acolytes, and ask permission of the keepers of the shrine to pass to the point where,
historically, his “brother” Chinyanta was drowned for revealing the secret that salt was to
be found in this place. The actual location of this event is given in oral traditions as the
Mukelezi River in the Lualaba area of the Congo. Kazembe then moves to the river and
offers a number of items in sacrifice to the spirit of Chinyanta: ulupemba powder, cooked
fish, chicken, groundnuts, and cassava, all of which are commonly consumed by the
Lunda. As people cheer each toss of food into the river, functionaries fire old muzzleloaders or mazo guns, in celebration. The Mwata then moves to another location
downstream, to offer a similar sacrifice to Kasombola, Chinyanta’s brother, who was
drowned with him. Kazembe then returns to the umuselo and is carried back to his palace.
Although many dignitaries and commoners mill around the Mwata’s compound,
Kazembe and his associates rest, eat, and prepare for the afternoon activities. These
periods between activities are also important opportunities for visitors to seek an
audience with the Mwata and for him to greet visiting dignitaries. Somewhere around 2
P.M., Kazembe emerges from his palace and is carried on the umuselo toward the
compound’s gate. At that point, while stationed at the gateway, Kazembe’s retainer,
known as Katamatwi, uses a ceremonial sword to cut the head off a young goat, just as
the carriers run past carrying the Mwata. Hundreds of people surround, follow, and
precede the umuselo as it speeds Kazembe towards the dancing arena. A few thousand
people are already gathered at the arena prior to the Mwata’s arrival. On the western side,
there is a covered area where the Lunda aristocracy, invited guests, visiting dignitaries,
and Kazembe himself sit in the shade. Most of the spectators sit on bleacher-type benches
along the northern side of the arena, while others surround the raised dancing area. After
some introductory remarks by government officials and Lunda dignitaries, a series of
dances are performed by local women. There are three age groups that dance separately.
Approximately six very young girls (around eight to ten years old) perform a dance called
chiwaza. They begin at the eastern end of the arena, near the orchestra comprised of
various types of drums and a xylophone, walk to the other end where the dignitaries sit,
kneel down, and clap three times in praise of the Mwata. They then perform the chiwaza
as they move across to the orchestra then back to Kazembe. They kneel again, honor
Kazembe, and depart. Another group of young women, of adolescent age, use the same
pattern, but dance a different step called chilumwalumwa. Finally, mature women,
ranging from their twenties to their forties, perform the dance called wakubasha. The
women then give way to a number of Lunda dignitaries who dance the Mutomboko.
The Mutomboko is performed by Lunda notables dressed in the traditional garb of the
court. This means they wear long-sleeved Western-style shirts, under dark, solid-color
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sport coats. Around their hips, they wear a mukonzo wrap or skirt, usually navy blue or
black, with a broad, lighter-color stripe near the bottom seam. The cloth is gathered and
drawn together at the waist and overlaps a leather belt, inshipo, that is worn underneath.
Many of the dignitaries have several strings of beads around their necks. Most of the men
also wear calf-length argyle socks, held up with garters. The various dancers are chosen
spontaneously by the Mwata, each rises from his place, kneels before Kazembe, claps
three times, and then moves to the arena. On the way, he must wrest a weapon, either a
sword or an axe, from an attendant. This is done in a stylized manner, with the dancer
grasping the weapon and the attendant resisting once or twice. The dancer then strides
toward the orchestra in time to the music, brandishes the weapon to salute the musicians,
and then turns to begin the Mutomboko. The dance is said to have origins in antiquity,
having been performed after victorious battles and momentous occasions. Although there
are many stylistic variations of the dance, the core consists of moving forward while also
shifting laterally, one step to the left and two to the right, with legs swerving high, then
coming down hard. The same pace is kept when the dancers charge two steps forward,
then one back. The weapons are rhythmically brandished, and at times there is a mime of
attacking an enemy with sword or axe. Most performers maintain a disdainful facial
expression, at once detached and arrogant. All this is danced to the specific Mutomboko
music and beat, as played by Kazembe’s court musicians. The dancers come from a
group of chiefs, headmen, traditional councillors, ritual specialists, and heirs. The heirs
are usually young boys, dressed in a similar manner to the adults, but acknowledged by
the audience in an enthusiastic way that celebrates the youthful promise of the royal
princes. As each dancer performs, members of the audience, depending on the perceived
quality of the dance, rush to press coins or bills into the dancers’ hands or pockets or onto
a cloth laid down on the ground near the dancers. The youngest dancers are especially
recognized in this way. When each dancer finishes, he kneels again before the Mwata,
claps three times, and then takes his seat.
Finally, the Mwata’s bard, of late, the aristocrat Chipolobwe, comes to the microphone
in the covered area where the dignitaries sit and recites several praise epithets, requiring
the audience to respond to each. He then introduces Mwata Kazembe, who slowly strolls
towards the raised dance area. As the crowd cheers wildly, the Mwata moves about in
rhythm to the drumming, then selects both a sword, mpok, and battle axe, mbafi, again
meeting with ceremonial resistance from an attendant. As he moves towards the
orchestra, another attendant called the masumba, who also makes the Mwata’s garments,
holds a two-stranded, red cloth “tail,” which he struggles with in restraining Kazembe
from unleashing his weapons at the nearest onlookers during the Mutomboko
performance. After saluting the orchestra with his weapons, Kazembe then settles into the
most regallooking style of the Mutomboko, drawing loud cheers and muzzle-loader shots
as he moves in, at times, frenzied forms of attack and then settles back into a smoother,
though always threatening, rhythm of dance. It is quite evident that the perception of the
gathered Lunda people is focused on the importance and centrality of the mwata, and the
dance is the focal point of their praises and celebration. After a time, Kazembe finishes
the dance by brandishing the sword, then driving it into the ground. As people swarm
onto the dance area, the mwata returns to the umuselo and is carried once around the
arena before departing to return to his palace. In the evening, there is a feast in the palace
grounds for local and visiting dignitaries.
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The annual festival serves many purposes. First, the Mutomoko is a celebration of
Lunda ethnic identity as it is represented in the person of Kazambe and the various rituals
that draw on history and mythology. Although numerically a small group, the Lunda
exercise a good deal of influence in both the Luapula Province and, at times, even in
national politics. Second, the festival is a powerful economic entity, providing many gifts
for Kazembe to distribute as he sees fit, but also filling the rest houses and small inns of
Mwansabombwe’s business community. Further, small restaurants and many bars are
simply filled to capacity during the three or four days of Mutomboko. It is not uncommon
for some business people to open otherwise dormant establishments only for the festival
and earn enough money to sustain them for months thereafter.
Though Mwansabombwe, located on the main north-south route in the province, is a
relatively thriving community during most of the year, it is clear that the height of the
economic year is the festival. The Mutomboko draws an increasing number of visitors
who come by bus, automobile, and even air to attend the ceremony. This combination of
cultural affirmation and economic opportunity seems to be a growing practice in both
Zambia and some neighboring countries. Although the only nationally and internationally
known festival in the country in the late 1960s was the annual Kuomboka of the Lozi
people, by 2001, the Zambian tourist bureau listed no fewer than fifty annual traditional
festivals.
References
Cancel, Robert. Unpublished interview with the late Mwata Kazembe XVIII Chinyanta Munona,
July 1997; praise poetry recorded from royal bard Mr. Chipolobwe Mwadya Misenga, May
1989.
Chinyanta, M., and Chileya J.Chiwale. 1989. Mutomboko Ceremony and the Lunda-Kazembe
Dynasty. Lusaka, Zambia: Kenneth Kaunda Foundation.
Cunnison, Ian G. 1959. The Luapula Peoples of Northern Rhodesia: Customs and History in Tribal
Politics. Manchester, U.K.: Manchester University Press.
——. 1951. History on the Luapula. The Rhodes-Livingstone Papers number 21. Manchester:
Manchester University Press.
Gordon, David. 2001. Owners of the Land and Lunda Lords: Colonial Chiefs in the Borderlands of
Northern Rhodesia and the Belgian Congo. International Journal of African Historical Studies
34, no. 2:315–38.
Matongo, Albert K. 1992. Popular Culture in a Colonial Society: Another Look at Mbeni and
Kalela Dances on the Copperbelt, 1930–64. In Guardians in Their Time: Experiences of
Zambians Under Colonial Rule, 1890–1964, ed. Samuel N.Chjipungu. London: Macmillan
Press.
Mwata Kazembe XIV. 1951. Ifikolwe Fyandi na Bantu (My Ancestors and My Peoples). Macmillan
and Co. In Central Bantu Historical Texts II: Historical Traditions of the Eastern Lunda, trans,
and annotated by Ian Cunnison Rhodes-Livingstone Communication, Number Twenty-Three.
Lusaka, Zambia: The Rhodes-Livingston Institute.
Pritchett, James A. 2001. The Lunda-Ndembu: Style, Change and Social Transformation in South
Central Africa. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press.
Turner, Victor W. 1969. The Ritual Process. Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press.
ROBERT CANCEL
See also Government Policies toward Folklore; History; Performance in Africa
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FILMS ON AFRICAN FOLKLORE
Folklore is not made of timeless archaisms, but is being reshaped and recreated
constantly (Dundes 1980). One can speak of folklore every time one is confronted by a
culturally codified behavior. It means that the members of a group immediately
understand a behavior and its context while it remains obscure to people coming from
another cultural background. History and change is an important dimension of this
codification; today, cultures are not viewed as essentialized organic wholes.
Historically, the term folklore was first used only to refer to archaic parts and regional
cultural specificities of “civilized countries.” Due to racial prejudices and ethnocentric
biases, African cultures were for a long time excluded from folklore studies, as they were
perceived to represent an earlier stage of evolution. Although the term folklore was
already central in texts by Tylor and Boas at the end of the nineteenth century, it was
used only for film subjects in Africa by the German ethnographers of the 1920s and the
1930s, as they shaped ethnographic subjects into Kulturfilme.
Films, like books, were often based on a double paradox: the ethnographers were
going into the field, but they were trying to describe what had just disappeared (Owusu
1978). In a brilliant essay, Johannes Fabian criticized the use of literary devices by
mainstream anthropology to inscribe exotic cultures in a remote and frozen time (Fabian
1983). The same critique can certainly be addressed to many ethnographic films. The
basic assumption was that cultural patterns had remained unchanged until the clash with
Western civilization and their consequent destruction. The urgent agenda of ethnographic
documentary filmmakers was then defined in terms of a salvage agenda.
Under the catalogue heading of “folklore,” most of the ethnographic films that were
filed were those that tried to gather raw material. This corresponds to a tradition of
collecting, identifying, and classifying data. As late as 1959, the Rules for Film
Documentation in Ethnology and Folklore proposed what we can call a “natural science”
treatment for ethnographic film. That is, the films should conform themselves to a
descriptive mode, recording rituals and technical processes, as they would have occurred
without the presence of an observer. The fundamental question of interpretation was
considered to come only secondarily. We know now that the two moments—of collection
and interpretation—cannot be totally separated and that we cannot observe anything
without, at least unconsciously, interpreting it. The observer, as Marcel Mauss noted, is
always part of the subject (Mauss 2001). “The belief that film can be unmediated record
of the real world,” writes Jay Ruby, “is based on the idea that cameras, not people, take
pictures and the naïve empiricist notion that the world is as it appears to be” (Ruby 1982,
124–5).
Films have often been produced by explorers and individual fieldworkers, but
museums and universities have sometimes invested money in audiovisual projects as
well. In the 1920s, museums were well suited to produce ethnographic films; they could
send cameramen on their expeditions and then attract audiences to their programs. The
American Museum of Natural History’s library has some videorecordings reflecting this
time of exploration. Later, museums contributed to film production with the aim of
counterbalancing the lifelessness of artifact displays. Notable recent productions include
African Religions and Ritual Dances (1971), co-produced by the University Museum
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(Philadelphia) and the Nigerian Olatunji Center of African Culture; Spirits of Defiance
(1989), shot by Jeremy Marre in Zaire (currently, Congo), for the BBC and the American
Museum of Natural History; and Togu na & Cheko (1989), produced by the National
Museum of African Art and the Smithsonian Institute. Universities have also co-produced
some major works. In France, the audiovisual unit of the National Center for Scientific
Research, the film committee of Musée de l’Homme, and the Ministry of Cooperation
have financed many films on African folklore. Since the late 1960s, television channels
(PBS in the United States, BBC, Granada TV, and Channel 4 in the United Kingdom, La
Sept-Arte in France and Germany, STSR in Switzerland, and RTBF in Belgium) and,
later, independent producers working for those channels have been a major source of
funding for documentary films.
The films were at first silent, then accompanied by a didactic expository narration.
Until the 1960s, as Eric Barnouw has noted, ethnographic films tended to be illustrated
lectures (Barnouw 1974; 1993, 251). They then became became more and more
“dialogic,” allowing for several distinct voices. With light cameras equipped with
synchronized sound, the so-called informants could speak for themselves directly in the
film and ensure what David MacDougall calls an “internal” commentary (MacDougall,
1988). Progressively, information came more from social interactions captured in the
field, but external commentary is still employed, notably, to explain complex realities
such as possession and shamanism, which cannot be deduced from the “reading” of the
visuals.
New Forms of Folklore
After the excesses of nineteenth-century evolutionism, major trends in anthropology,
such as Boasian particularism, cultural relativism, and functionalism, encouraged the
study of human cultures as synchronic systems. Since the mid-1970s, time and change
have been ultimately recognized as a major dimension of culture. For example, Ogun, the
Iron God of the Yoruba people, is worshipped today by truck and taxi drivers (In Un dieu
au bord de la route, 1993). As Manthia Diawara argues, mythological figures persist in
West African politics (as, for instance, the series Sunjata–Samory–Seku Ture attests) and
in the music of Salif Keita and Mory Kante (Diawara 1998). After the fall of Portuguese
colonialism, citizens of Bissau reinvented their carnival, which had been forbidden for a
long time. In Yangba Bolo (1985), women and men perform a modern popular dance to
celebrate the exploits of Central African basket players. In Bikutsi, Water Blues (1988), a
rather imaginative staged documentary made by the Cameroonese director Jean-Marie
Teno to support a public health campaign, music, radio, and schools are all used to
convince people to drink purified water. The title is after a traditional rhythm from the
forest in South Cameroon. Masters of the Streets (1989), by the Belgian Dirk Dumon,
shows how popular painters, the most famous being Cheri Samba, evoke in their work
social and political themes. These painters are altogether artists, advertisers, educators
and public health officers. The gifted Congolese director Ngangura Mweze also used
Cheri Samba to comment on his portrait of Kinshasa and its new forms of folk
expressions (Kin Kiesse, 1982). Six Pence a Door (1983), by Mbele Sibiuso, deals with
Contemporary Black Art in South Africa. Future Remembrance documents, in a fresh
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and respectful way, the art of popular photographers in Ghana. Through his own
imagination and that of his client, the photographer helps present and define the person as
a distinct individual.
A retrospective look reveals that change and movement is only a contemporary
phenomenon. Mamy Wata is an interesting figure; its representation all over West Africa
is based on ancient mythology as well as Indian images introduced on the West African
coast by European traders in the early time of contact (Mammy Water; Mamy Water: In
Search of the Water Spirits in Nigeria, 1989; Mami Wata, The Spirit of the White Woman,
1988). Another fascinating and curious mixed product of history is shown in the film An
Immortal Story, which tells how, for centuries, the inhabitants of Sao Tomé Island
transmitted, through theatrical performances, a story about the Frankish king Charles the
Great. The popular theater play, played with music, masks, and dances, raises the
question of transgression of the law by princes and kings.
No filmmaker has stressed the importance of cultural creativity more than Jean Rouch
when, forty years ago with his African friends, he improvised wonderful “performative”
films, such as La Chasse au lion à l’arc (1970), Jaguar (1954/1967), Moi un Noir (1957),
La Goumbé des jeunes noceurs (1965), Cocorico, and M.Poulet (1974). [The term
performative is used here to indicate that what the film depicts did not exist before the
shooting of the film itself.] If we consider that in 1999, J.Fabian proposed the
performance as a method of ethnography “with” the people described (Fabian 1990),
Rouch, with his camera, was remarkably prescient. He was also well aware of the mixed
nature of tradition and paid attention to new forms of popular cultures such as the ritual
and theatrical satire of colonial regimes (Les Maîtres Fous, 1955) or the humorous
identification to sports and cinema stars by modest people of Accra or Abidjan. And
wonderful characters named Ray Sugar Robinson in Moi un Noir and Dorothy Lamour in
La Goumbé des Jeunes Noceurs (1965) showed up in Rouch’s films.
The city, like any other context or milieu, produces its own folklore. At least one-third
of the African population now lives in cities, and the rural exodus continues. In 1960,
only two African cities had more than one million inhabitants; forty years later, more
than thirty exceed that number. A Nous la Rue (1986), by the Burkinabe Mustapha Dao,
shows how, at the end of the school day, streets are the stage of children’s little crimes,
loves, football games, dances, cooking, games, and music. Adama, the Fula Magician
(1981), by the American Jim Rosselini, follows a deaf street performer in Ouagadougou.
The Dodos (1980), portrays a festival that Mossi have borrowed from the Hausa that
takes place in the streets of Ouagadougou; teams of young people compete, inventing
animal masks and special dance steps.
We can speak of the folklore of the sapeurs (elegant young people) in Libreville
(Papa Wemba, 1986) or of the street kids in Burundi (Bichoraï, 1994). Filmmakers have
paid attention to new forms of business: God Gave Her a Mercedes (1992), Asante
Market (1982), and Profession revendeuse all portray woman who fall into the category
of “Mama Benz,” businesswomen, so named for the chauffeured car they own. In the
market of Lome or Kumasi, they control diverse trades and earn a great deal of money. In
the first film, an interesting sequence shows pieces of cloth called “dynasty” (after the
American TV series), “Mandela,” or “democracy.” (It is a pity, however, that in this film,
repeated shots of a vodou performance are shown in a rather sensationalist way.)
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African filmmakers such as Mariama Hima (Baabu Banza, 1984) and Felix Samba
N’diaye (Les malles, 1989) show the work of craftspeople recycling old cans in Niamey
or Dakar. Some productions are “unidentified audiovisual objects” rather than real films,
but are nonetheless interesting. The ethnomusicologist Benoit Quersin recorded an
astonishing “tradition” with a tiny camcorder: in a mission girls’ school in Zaire, run by
Bavarian sisters, “Snow White” has been, since 1935, the subject of the year-end show.
The film mixes Lomongo songs, tunes from German folklore, Tyrolian costumes, and the
young Zairian girls’ sense of acting (Snow White in Congo, 1993).
Many African people today have a mixed religious heritage and try to reconcile
traditional religion with Islam or Christianity (Akum, 1978; Day of Rest, 1957; Heal the
Whole Man, 1995; Mary Akatsa, 1990; Les Mille et une églises, Spite, 1986; The Land of
the Prophets, 1988). In away, any African religion is syncretic, because it has to respond
to new problems. Sometimes, historical changes favor a revival of old customs. The
Mursi of Ethiopia, who had suffered several years from drought, starvation, cattle
disease, and attacks by their neighbors, decided to perform a Nitha, a ceremony that had
not taken place in thirty years. Many films consider with nostalgia the loss of traditions,
but some African intellectuals talk about “the tyranny of fetishes” (Bois sacré, 1975).
Although African Sufism does not really enter into the category of new forms of religious
expression, Mouridism, a movement founded by Sheik Amadu Bamba and predicting
progress for Africa, has a prophetic dimension (Grand Magal a Touba, 1962; Baraka,
1999).
The Myth and Other Narratives
The true recording of an African “myth” on film, as a fixed, complete, and coherent text,
is so rare that one could reasonably doubt the very existence of the genre. Very often,
myths, tales, proverbs were considered independently of social contexts. Sometimes,
ethnographers have constructed a systematic text from heterogeneous fragments resulting
from “maieutic” dialogues with their “informants.” Actually, many films hide this
preliminary work behind a “divine” commentary telling the myth or a cultural chart, out
of any context of enunciation. Ever since the invention of synchronized sound cameras, if
the “meaning” of many oral productions doesnot seem obvious or consistent, it is
synthesized by an external commentary.
Jean Rouch’s impressive series dedicated to the Dogon ritual cycle of the Sigui, shot
between 1966 and 1973, was no exception, although Rouch is also the groundbreaking
filmmaker who made many films as a shared creation with the subjects. The Sigui series
pays tribute to Marcel Griaule’s and Germaine Dieterlen’s writing on the Dogon creation
myth. These authors postulate a highly developed religious pantheon of pre-Islamic
deities, surviving in fragments and protected by secrets. The ultimate aim of their
ethnography is to reconstitute the entire mythic system, with the help of “privileged”
informants. The Sigui is a ceremony that takes place every sixty years among the Dogon
of the Bandiagara cliffs in Republic of Mali. Before the series began shooting, foreigners
had never witnessed it, although Marcel Griaule and his team had done intensive research
on the subject since 1931. In 1966, Germaine Dieterlen and Jean Rouch decided to make
a complete film of this important ritual. They followed, year after year, this fascinating
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itinerant ceremony, which goes from the Tiogou village to the Songo shelter, along the
cliff. Rouch’s camera reconstitutes a ritual itinerary in which different villages play their
part but that nobody in the field is supposed to witness entirely. The seventh film is a
representation of a symbolic ceremony ending the cycle; the region was devastated by a
severe drought, and it was impossible to go there with a camera. Since then, the region
has almost completely converted to Islam; thus the Sigui series footage remains a unique
visual archive. The Pale Fox (1984), by Luc de Heusch and The Dogon, Chronicle of a
Passion (1997), by Guy Seligman propose another look at this cosmogonic myth and
ethnography. Other films, like God Is Reborn Every Year, shot among the Bobo of Upper
Volta share the assumption that the key to ritual interpretation resides in creation myth. In
Koumen (1977), astutely visualized by Luovic Segarra, the Muslim scholar Amadou
Hampaté Ba tells the initiatic Fula legend.
In this symbolic ethnographic trend, the mythological narrative is a patient and endless
reconstruction, dialogically produced by the foreigner “students” and Dogon elders. The
resulting writing of a myth is fascinating but also highly questionable, because researches
in communication, sociolinguistics and anthropology have illustrated that the presence of
interlocutors generally influences the manner in which the storyteller presents the story.
Some films track performances by popular storytellers. In The Soro, by Inoussa Ousseini
(Niger), we see oral competition between the participants to a festival. In the Nelisita
(1982), the imaginative Angolan filmmaker and anthropologist Rui Duarte cuts from
feature sequences to the story telling. Another film by the same author, Une seule pierre
ne cale pas le chaudron (1978), shows how a cultural heritage can shift and blend with
outside influences. In Angano, Angano (1989), people from Madagascar tell their stories
directly to the camera David MacDougall’s film. Under the Men’s Tree (MacDougall 19
74) show Jié people of Uganda talking about traditional as well as modern themes. Oral
transmission trains people in eloquence, charm, and public performance. The verbal
talents of ordinary people is striking in films like Angano…Angano, Hamar Trilogy
(1990), Turkana Conversations (1976), and Memories and Dreams (1992). In To Live
with Herds (1972), David and Judith MacDougall explain that one of their characters
often liked to give them small lectures on things they ought to know. In Un Dieu au bord
de la route, it is not Western intellectuals who synthesize African folktales, but famous
Nigerian writers such as Sole Soyinka, Amos Tutuola, and Bode Sowande, who are, in a
way, blurring the boundaries between tradition and international reception.
Films are particularly useful for transmitting the less tangible, unwritten aspects of
texts. Meaning is conveyed not only by what is written, but by tune, inflection, gestures,
silences, hesitations, and laughing. African specialists of oral narratives might be less the
guardians of an intangible memory than theoreticians in charge of criticizing the present
time. Their function is often to adapt to new contexts elements they have inherited from
their ancestors, as Andrew Apter has shown among the Yoruba of Nigeria (1992). When
films and writing deny this historical dimension by shaping everything into canonic texts,
they freeze a culture in an eternal present. As the film The Gods-Objects (1989) shows, a
Togolese diviner may refer to mythological events in a particular context, for instance, to
diagnose and cure a sick person. Time is, in any case, a constitutive dimension of social
reality. Diachronic shootings with repeated fieldwork in the same region with the same
persons do not show static systems, but social realities enduring contradictions and
change. This is one important conclusion of the remarkable work of John Marshall in
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Southern Africa, Melissa Llewelijn-Davies in Kenya, and of the teams of Leslie
Woodhead and David Turton and Johanna Head and Jean Lydall in Ethiopia.
For a filmmaker from the West, recording and editing tales and other oral narratives is
a critical problem. One of the striking characteristics of folklore narratives is the
occurrence of repetition. It is very common that in the same tale, the same episode is told
several times. These repetitions have a function—they lead to progressive change in the
story—but they belong to conventions that contradict the treatment of time and
narrativity in Western documentary cinema. The difficulty is to attain a form that can be
acceptable by both standards, but if for aesthetic and production reasons, the filmmaker
has to cut, at least he or she should keep a copy of the uncut material.
In the Mande cultural area in West Africa, speech is the essence of the special art of
the griots, a group of people who were once at the service of an aristocracy. Les Gens de
la parole, by Jean-Francois Schiano (1980) explains the role and functions of the griots in
Mali: ensuring that famous people and their genealogy are remembered and entertaining
at public events with music, songs, praises, and tales. These functions historically related
to the powers of Mande kingdoms to evolve rapidly, even if major ceremonies keep the
ancient majesty (The Griots Today; The Griot in the Circle; Born Musicians: Traditional
Music from the Gambia). The short film Griottes of the Sahel: Female Keepers of the
Songhay Oral Tradition in Niger captures the meanings of this ambiguous status from the
female perspective. In the same culture, Sassale give voice to the griots, who evoke the
events that led to their status. Oral narratives often occur in musical contexts, the griots
being musicians and singers as well as storytellers.
Music
Many films focus directly on musical performances, others give them a prominent place
and many, simply, cannot avoid music when considering African culture and folklore.
Special mention should be made of Bangusa Timbila (1982); Batteries Dogon (1966);
Batteurs de calebasses (1967); Baule (1970); Bitter Melons (1966); Black Music in South
Africa; Music; The Chopi Timbila Dance (1980); Chuck Davis, Dancing through West
Africa (1986); Djembefolla (1991); Discovering the Music of Africa (1967); Hamar
Herdsman and His Song (1987); Have You Seen DRUM Recently?; Horendi (1972);
Konkombe (1988); Mbira dza Vadzimu (1978); Music of Guinea (1987); N/um Tchai
(1966); Pangols (1995); Songs of the Adventurers (1987); Songs of the Badius (1986); A
Spirit Here Today (1994); Turu and Bitti (1971); Under the African Skies (1989), and The
Voice of the Spirits—Lobi Music from Burkina (1992). The short piece The Griot Badye
(1977), by Jean Rouch and Inoussa Ousseini shows how a Nigerian traditionalist draws
his inspiration from birds to compose his music.
Many of these works are excellent, but strangely enough, some films on music spoil
the music and the songs themselves through the addition of an intrusive informative
voiced narration; in one film, the audience is told that the xylophone player is an
outstanding artist, but the narration obliterates his music. It can only hoped that the raw
footage still exists, with the actual sound as it was before the “fatal” mixing, and that one
day, it will be restored.
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Some films focus on dance and its relation to music. The work of Allan Lomax was
especially pioneering and ambitious. Lomax proposed two theoretical approaches—
choreometrics and cantometrics—to show that the patterns of movement and of song vary
in orderly ways by culture area and that these expressive systems are correlated with
important aspects of social organization (Choreometrics, 1974; Dance and Human
History, 1976). Other films are more conventionally centered on single locations: Dance
like a River (1985); The Dance of the Bella; Studies of Nigerian Dance (1966); The LeftHanded Man of Madagascar (1990); Nande Dances; Tribal Dances of West Africa
(1969). The Dance of the Queens in Porto Novo (1969) is particularly interesting. This
film was been shot in the courtyard of the royal palace and shows the preparation of the
ritual dance and then the performance itself, when the queens, accompanied by a female
orchestra, dance and sing in front of the king. A synchronous half-speed recording has
been made to study more closely the movements. In Cote d’Ivoire, a Yacuba folk festival,
popularized by spectacular postcards, is made up of acrobatic dances by men and small
girls (Images from Yacuba Country, 1963).
More and more frequently, films focus on new types of destiny, the life of many artists
in Africa now being composed from different heritages and shaped by new influences. In
Senegal, a man, who has studied music, sings opera in the streets of Dakar while earning
a living doing odd jobs (Abraham and the Odd Jobs, 1996). Musicians sometimes
perform to praise nationalists or freedom movements (Bangusa Timbila, 1982; Rhythms
of Resistance, 1988; We Jive Like This, 1992). African musicians living in Europe go
back to their home country after years of exile (Djembefolla, 1991); a famous female
singer from Congo (Zaire) learns polyphonic songs from her mother in Brussels (Mizike
Mama, 1992), and in the large cities of Nigeria, music finds new forms (The Memory of
Black People, 1979).
Games
John Marshall’s films, always of outstanding observational quality, cover every aspect of
!Kung and G’wi social life. Particularly interesting are the short films on games of
children and adults: Baobab Play (1957); Playing with the Scorpions (1957); The Melon
Tossing Game (1966); The Tug of War (1957); N!owa
, A Joking Relationship
(1957). In this last film, women and girls from three separate tribes gather at a mango
grove to play a long and intense game in which undertones of social and personal tension
become apparent.
Masks
Masks have often been associated with the field of documentary film and African
folklore, but it is a complex relationship. The mask attracts the eye of the camera, but the
image can easily lead to misconceptions. The mask is never what it seems to be: it is not
a representation of a God, it is not the God itself, it cannot be defined by the sum of what
is said about it, and its power is always invested in different objects and locations.
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Commentary, interviews as well as written analysis, appears to be unable to convey the
complex meaning of mask performances.
Nevertheless, films remain the best medium for conveying an idea of those spectacular
performances. The American art historian and anthropologist Christopher Roy could
witness and film danced performances with masks we used to see only in glass cases:
Yaaba Soore: The Path of the Ancestors (1986); The Dance of the Spirits: Mask Styles
and Performances in the Upper Volta (1988). Guy Le Moal’s films on Bobo masks are
also excellent. The most popular, The Great Molo Mask (1968), reveals the ritual making
of a mask, from the cutting down of the tree, through the carving and decoration,
including the offerings that have to be made during the process. Dwo Has Killed (1971)
shows the social and political functions of the Molo mask. The “mask” as a character
seems to be God’s instrument to repress antisocial conducts. Masks Made with Leaves
stresses the role of children in Bobo Fing religious life. In Hivernage at Kouroumani, the
masks bid farewell to the villagers, to let them farm during the rainy season until the next
harvests. More recently, the films Ouagadougou, Portraits of Gods (1992), by the
Belgian filmmaker Benoit Lamy and Sakoma Kuye (1997) and Alphonse Kodini Sanou
from Burkina Faso, adopts a more narrative form; a young man who has spent years in
Europe returns to Africa to learn more about the masks.
The carving of sacred masks and ritual objects being secret, it has been rarely filmed.
Cameroon Brass Casting, by Paul Gebauer, showing mask brass molding by the Bamun
of Cameroon in 1950, is an interesting document. Mali has a rich tradition of masks, the
most famous abroad probably being those of the Dogon. The School of the Masks in
Dogon Country, shot by François de Dieu in black and white in 1959, shows young boys
carving masks under an elder’s supervision. African Carving. A Dogon Kanaga Mask
(1975), by Eliot Elisofon, reveals, as did The Great Molo Mask, that the carving is itself
an important ritual. The carver works in a secluded cave outside of the village; his
gestures repeat the movements of the dancers who wear the mask. Dogon masks play an
important role during funeral rituals, as shown in a film by Marcel Griaule, as well as in
several films made by Jean Rouch and Germaine Dieterlen: Under the Black Masks
(1938); Ambara Dama (1974); Funerals in Bongo—Anaï Dolo 1848–1970 (1972) and the
Sigui series. In 1966, D. Luz made several short films on Dogon customs for the IWF of
Göttingen, documenting, notably, in Mask Dances in Sanga the Kanaga and Sirige
masks’ performances. Togu na and cheko (1989), produced by the National Museum of
African Art in Washington, studies change and continuity in the art in Mali. The worldly
famous Tyi-wara masks of the Bamana feature in two films: The Bambara of Mali (1970)
and Diary of a Dry Season: Tyi-wara (1987). Finally, mention should be made of The
Bend in the Niger (1971), a journey along the river by Eliot Elisofon, in which we meet
Songhaï, Fula, Bamana, and Dogon cultures. Among the Senufo, the coming of age of
boys requires an initiation to the Poro. Blacksmiths, who have a special status based on a
magic power, are the only ones qualified to carve the masks (The Senufo, 1969).
Shot in Cote d’Ivoire, the Stephane Kurc series Dialogue avec le sacré (1982)
analyzes different types of masks and sculptures and their metaphysical meanings. The
anthropologist Ariane Deluz made for Swiss television a film on a Guro female secret
society, the Kné. The main object, called “mask” in Ivoirian French, is covered and never
seen by anybody, female or male (From the Village of the Dead to the Village of Living
People, 1983). The short film The Children of the River (1963), shot by Monique and
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Robert Gessain in Senegal, shows Bassari masks brought out during farming rites.
Women dance with masks called Gwangwuran and Odener. The same anthropologists
also filmed rituals of Bassari initiation, including a dance that had already been filmed by
Dittmer for the IWF of Göttingen (The Children of the Chameleon, 1969; The Time of the
Chameleon, 1969).
The famous antiwitch Gelede festival of the Yoruba in Nigeria is shown in a film by
Peggy Harper (Gelede: a Yorulea Masquerade, 1970). The festival culminates in the
midnight appearance of the Efe mask in the market place of Ijio, near the Benin border.
The film Owu: Chidi Joins the Okoroshi Secret Society (1994), by the German
anthropologist Sabine Jell-Bahlsen, focuses on the initiation of a young boy into a men’s
secret society. Several masks (notably Owu, Icharra, and Nono) appear along the ritual
process. The aforementioned black-and-white Disumba (1969), made by the
ethnomusicologist Pierre Salée in Gabon, reconstitutes the initiation ceremonies of the
Bwiti, the Mitsogho male brotherhood. During the ritual, the initiates take a
hallucinogenic substance called iboga, so as to encourage seeing the deities appearing
under the form of masked dancers. A Japanese filmmaker, Susumo Noro, has shot a film
called Jungle Gods (1973) on the same subject for the NAV Man TV series. Sequences
with dance and masks may also be shown in films dealing with other topics, as Maama
Tseembu (1992).
For fifty years, the treasures of African folklore and art have been acquired, sometimes
by force, sometimes with the consent of African peoples in question, and sold in Western
markets. The process has been documented in The Statues Also Die (1953); The African
King (1991); and In and Out of Africa (1992).
Spirit Possession
Cults in which divinities express themselves through the voices of the dancers they have
chosen and “taken” flourish all over Africa. Spirit possession has found some cinematic
coverage, although in less detail and abundance than in literature. In books, the emotional
aspect of the experience has often been undermined, but in films, this dimension is better
expressed. Many films dealing with trance and possession, such as Rouch’s Les maîtres
fous (1955), conform to the psychoanalytical position that fantasy life translates an
attempt to gain psychic mastery over traumatic experiences. However, in other contexts
(in Togo, Mali, Bijago Islands) those possessed appear to be very quiet persons, fulfilling
their duty as officials of a cult. Filming a rainmaking ceremony that Rouch has also
filmed several times, Olivier de Sardan focuses on relations between Islam and
possession dances and on the way religious attitudes face vital problems affecting the
community (The Old Woman and the Rain, 1972). The moving pictures convincingly
restitute the different attitudes—not only of the possessed people, but also of the
filmmakers—implied by such an abstract phrase as “possession crisis.” Jean Rouch
dedicated many films to this topic as it occurs among the Zerma-Songhaï in Niger.
Initiation to the Dance of Possession, shot in Tillabery in 1948, was probably the first
film on the subject to be shown in a movie theater (during the Biarritz Festival). Rouch’s
material is especially interesting because he filmed the same ritual several times over the
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course of many years, including the rain ceremony called Yenendi (Yenendi: The Men
Who Make Rain, 1950; Yenendi in Bukoki, 1973).
Hampi (1965), a film named after a sacred vase, was shot during a ceremony in which
the sacred vase was placed in the open-air Museum of Nyamey in 1960. Turn and Bitti
(1967) is a one-shot-sequence film, in which Rouch’s camera seems to add another
instrument to the band that induces the possession dances. Wanzerbe (1968), named after
a village, shows a dance of possession, organized to designate the next head magician.
(As is often the case when politics is at stake, things are not going smoothly.) In Tanda
Singui (1972), the people of Yantalla, a Nyamey district, build a shed for Dongo, the
thunder divinity. Several deities possess their “horses”: Zakao, Dongo’s slave; Harakoy,
Dongo’s mother and Dongo himself. Horendi (1972) is a visual analysis—with some
shots in slow motion—of the relationships between dance and music during the initiation
to the dance of possession. Initiation (1975) is about the same deity. When an old
possession cult priest dies, his followers ritually break his sacred vases and weep for the
deceased (Pam Kuso Kar, 1974). Nigeria welcomes at least two forms of possession cults
that may be called the Bori complex, among the Hausa, and the Orisha cults, among the
Yoruba tribe.
In the north of Nigeria, each year before the rains, the people call the spirits of the
possession cult (Bori), in order to propitiate the next harvests (Shan Kubewa 1971).
African Religious and Ritual Dances (1971), shot by Babatunde Olantunji in the Yoruba
area, shows a ritual fire dance to Shango, the god of thunder, who possesses the dancer.
Set in an area of Togo and Benin marked by a shared traditional culture, several films
show how a person’s life depends on the gods’ good will: The Voodoo’s Daughters
(1990); Sakpata (1963). Voudouns—Die Kunst mit den geisten zu leben (1995). These
films explains how the Voodoo have been sent on earth by the supreme God to oversee
and dictate mankind’s condition. Senegal is well represented regarding spirit possession
rituals: curing ceremonies based on trance and possession and dealing with mentally
troubled people are so important that the doctors of the Psychiatric Hospital of Dakar
tried to combine them with Western medicine (Réalité, 1969; The
, 1972; Borom
xam xam, 1975; Seven Nights and Seven Days, 1982). In Mali, curing possession cults
exist as other cults that do not have any therapeutic dimension (The Ways of Nya Are
Many, 1983; The Diary of a Dry Season II and IV, 1987).
One film, at least, deals with possession in Cote d’Ivoire: Dipri Festival in Gomon
1960, shot among the Abidji. In Cameroon, as a film made by Bernard Juillerat shows, an
evil spirit can penetrate into the body of a person and must be extracted through an
exorcism (Matsam, 1969). The Zar cult, well known in East Africa thanks to the work of
Michel Leiris, has been filmed (The Zar, 1982). Igor de Garine has shot several films on
possession trance among the Massa and the Mussey of Chad (The Moon of Bogodi,
1965). In Central Africa, trance and possession exist among the Tshokwe (Dances of the
Tshokwe, 1930), the Mitsogho, and the Nyaneka. A splendid black-and-white film by
John Marshall, N’um Tchai: The Ceremonial Dance of the !Kung Bushmen (1966) deals
with shamanism. Several films have been shot on spirit possession by Lombard and
Fieloux in Madagascar (Biro; Le prince charmant, 1981).
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Medicine
Many of these possession cults attempt to find solutions for affliction and, therefore, have
a therapeutic dimension. Some films deal with folk medicine and with clashes between
traditional forms of curing rituals and Western medicine. Bono Medicines (1981),
produced under the guidance of the anthropologist Michael Warren, describes healing
ceremonies in Ghana. Explanations, centered on spiritual forces, are given by traditional
healers, while Western and Ghanaian doctors and a Peace Corps volunteer prefer
explanations that draw on Western medicine. Alter Ego (1986) is a reflexive film made
by a Dutch ethnopsychiatrist working in Africa. In Africa for a Spell (1986) films a
meeting between a psychiatrist and a traditional healer, both from Cameroon, who
discuss and debate their differing methods. In Kambla, the Healer (1978), a traditional
doctor introduces himself to the audience and explains his work. After having shot a
curing ceremony with Kambla, the director, accompanied by a doctor, comes back
several months later and confronts the two specialists. Makumukas, already quoted,
shows an impressive curing ceremony among the Nyaneka (a Herrero group) of Angola.
In Iel-solma (1986, Burkina Faso) traditional healers talk about their secret knowledge.
Spite (1984) shows a Cote d’Ivoire prophet-healer who attracts a large number of patients
and followers. Vimbuza chilopa (1991) deals with folk medicine in Malawi. In several
films not specifically about medicine, curing sessions are nonetheless presented (The
Nuer, 1970; Mukissi 1974; Maama Tseembu Oracle).
Divination
The theme of divination is very much related to that of possession and medicine, as is
illustrated in the film Maama Tseembu Oracle, which is centered on the person of a
female diviner. In the course of the film, we see her initiating a young colleague, who
goes through a spectacular possession crisis and a symbolic death. Possession is a
modality of divination and sickness, as any suffering has to be diagnosed and conjured.
The pattern “suffering (sickness)…divination…curing initiation” is a classic one. There
is always a danger in a film—in which the cultural context can only be briefly
explained—to freeze alien conceptions in closed systems. Anthropology has to react
against synchronic and ideal portraits or “given” cultures as they have many times been
presented in documentary films. Biotope et geste de travail vezo (1975) proposes a visual
study of Vezo divination practices and of possession crises (from ancient forms to the
modern ones). The life of the Hamar, in Ethiopia, depends on cattle. When a problem
occurs, the “master of the goats” sacrifices some animals and reads the future in their
entrails (Sacrifice and Divination in Hamar, 1984). This film is particularly interesting
because it shows the personal strategies of a single character rather than relying on broad
cultural stereotypes. In The Prophet Family’, the first part of her Diary of a Maasai
Village (1984), Melissa Llewelijn-Davies presents a prominent prophet’s activities, as a
group of men from another district brings twenty-five cows as a present in exchange for
prophecies and protection rituals. In Sigui 70 (1970) by Jean Rouch, we can see a famous
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divination device among the Dogon of Mali. In 1966, D.Luz documented the same
divination process for the IWF in Göttingen (Dogon—Oracle). Among the Kabiye of
North Togo, soothsayers are consulted at the market or, more privately, in homes
(Divination and Justice among the Kabiye, 1979). In Chad, when the Massa, who live
near the Logone river, were preparing the collective fishing, they first used to perform a
complex divination session (The Massa, People of the Logone River, 1958). Divination is
also the main activity of prophetic cults (films on this topic are mentioned in the section
dedicated to new religious movements). Divination, or even inspiration, can play an
important role in resolving conflicts.
Justice
In The Maama Tseembu Oracle, a film that shows fascinating spirit possession
experiences, the audience witnesses an extraordinary scene in which a soothsayer accuses
a man of having committed witchcraft. Azande people from Sudan also depend upon
oracles to explain events and predict the future. The outcome of an adultery trial can be
decided by a ritual ordeal (Witchcraft among the Azande, 1981). The Cows of Dolo:
Resolving Conflict among the Kpelle, filmed in Liberia in 1968, analyzes the conflict
resulting from the wounding of a crop-eating cow by a Kpelle farmer. The conflict is
resolved through a hot-knife trial-by-ordeal. Additional information can be gained by
reading the work of James L.Gibbs, who worked as anthropologist on the film. The work
of the Dutch anthropologist and filmmaker Emile Rouveroy van Nieuwaal must be
mentioned, too. He has made very detailed filmed case studies, documenting traditional
justice in Togo; topics of his films include an adultery trial among the Anufo of Northern
Togo and the crisis resulting from a succession to office among the Tyokossi (Sherea—
Dispute Settlement at the Paramount Chief in N’zara (North Togo, 1975). The late Anne
Retel-Laurentin showed the same complexities of the trials among the Nzakara and gave
the same respect to the concept and practice of the ordeal.
Shaping the Human Body
In Africa, coming-of-age rituals and rites of passage generally require forms of
inscription on the body of the initiates. The rituals often involve attendance at a “bush
school,” in which the initiates receive instruction and endure physical ordeals, hazing,
and harsh punishments. The uninitiated person has died, and a new person, who receives
a new name, is born. Separate initiation schools for girls and boys intensify the solidarity
between members the same sex and of the same age-set. Sexual ritual mutilation is often
part of the initiation. Most of the time, unfortunately, these rituals have been filmed, with
a lack of contextualization and in a manner that promotes exoticism.
H.Baumann shot some precious footage, which became the film Dances of the Newly
Circumcised, in Angola in 1930. Circumcision (1949), filmed by Jean Rouch in Niger,
concerns a class of thirty Songhá boys from a village in the Hombori Mountains. In
Goumbou in Sahel (1965), in a Sarakole village in Northern Mali, the young male
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initiates sing “the song of the fear” and the blacksmiths, who are also surgeons, dance
with circumcision knives.
The French anthropologists Monique and Robert Gessain have filmed the ceremonies
that mark the end of the Bendele initiates’ retreat in Central African Republic. Those
rituals include body decoration, manipulation of sacred objects, songs, dances, and
pantomime (The Children of the Dance, 1966). Imbalu, the film about a rite of passage
among the Gisu of Uganda, by R. Howkins Richard and S. Heald, and Initiation, (1973)
filmed among the Musey in Chad, should also be mentioned. The Nuba of Sudan
emblematically incarnate African folklore with their dances, body painting, and
spectacular wrestling matches. This martial group has been popularized in Western
countries through the photographs of Leni Riefenstahl, a former official propaganda
filmmaker for the Nazis. Chris Curling has created a metadocumentary of sorts for the
BBC (The South Eastern Nuba, 1982), which discusses Riefenstahl’s work on the Nuba.
Female excision has been documented in a film by G.Lartizien (Banda—Excision
Ceremonies), in Garçons et filles (1962) and in Cbaya—Cliterodectomy. This important
subject is also discussed in films dealing with women’s issues in general (Women with
Open Eyes, 1996). Becoming a Woman in Okrika (1990), by Judith Gleason and Elisa
Mereghetti, documents a rite called Iria in Nigeria. In this film, where the interviews are
obviously livelier and more interesting than the didactic narration, the young women’s
bodies are painted by the elder women, who fatten them and teach them the “ethos” of
womanhood. After an elaborate celebration, the young women run a race pursued by
young men and their leader, incarnating a mythological personage armed with sticks. By
passing through this rite, the women abandon girlish fantasies and prepare for
childbearing.
Scarification is another way to formalize changing of status or of identity (Djonkor:
Scarifications of the Maidens, 1965; Scarifications of Maids, 1955–63). Hair dressing
(like “savage” speaking into a phonograph) is a classic of colonial imagery in film as well
as in photography and postcards (Arts and Crafts in Northeastern Angola, 1930; Zulu,
“Shloko” Hair Dressing, 1964; !Ko Bushmen, Making and Applying of Women’s
Headdresses, 1972; Tattooing of Forehead and Temples, 1972; Sara Madjinngai,
Dressing the Hair of a Boy by Shaving, 1968). The famous festival called gereol,
performed by the Fula Wodaabe in Niger and Nigeria, continually attracted the camera.
In this tribe of the West African Sahel, the young men, fully dressed and in full makeup,
perform a beauty contest, and the young ladies choose their favorite (Nomads of the Sun,
1954; The Wodaabe, the Herders of the Sun, 1992). In the second title, the famous
German director Werner Herzog presents an idealized version of this institution and uses
Gounod’s, Handel’s, Mozart’s, and Verdi’s music to magnify dance figures and cattle
movement filmed in slow motion.
Initiation and Collective Rituals
Rituals and folklore are often regarded as mutually exclusive categories, as the second
implies discursive practices that are not supposed to exist in the first. But as Victor
Turner, Richard Schechner, and others have shown, stories may exist within the ritual
process. Communication with gods or other spiritual entities is often embedded in other
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problems such as illness, drought, witchcraft, misfortunes, and conflicts. Rituals are
performances that give meaning and suggest solutions to those problems; therefore, they
adopt a dramatic frame.
Sometimes, rituals rest on stories that belong to other forms of folk narratives. Autour
du Baw-Naan Lebu (1984), for instance, by the Senegalese filmmaker Gai Ramaka,
shows how the symbolic finality of a ceremony among the Lebu is meant to make the
God laugh in order to bring about rainfall. The yenendi rituals, filmed several times by
Jean Rouch in Niger, do not involve the same symbolism, but have the same function.
The religious life of the Kabre of northern Togo involves great festivals of purification, in
praise of life forces, and to banish hostile powers (Rhythms and Sacred Pomp in the Life
of the Kabre of Northern Togo, 1966). Initiation, purification of the village, and
propitiatory sacrifices are interrelated also among the Bobo and the Bolon (Yele Danga,
1966). Among the Diola of Casamance, in southern Senegal, the rite of manhood is a
keystone of resistance to Islamic or Christian proselytism (Sikambano, 1991). In The
“Unbound” Mouth (1970), the bridegroom must fast, and his mouth is “bound” until the
wedding day, when he breaks the fast. Some customs have lost or never had a sacred
dimension. Among the Samo of Burkina, for example, the New Year, which arrives after
the harvest, is acknowledged by wrestling between brave young men (Premier mil,
1975).
Gender
Marriage is, of course, a major rite of passage and has inspired many films, especially
interesting for gender studies. Mention must be made of Akuren and Loditmwe (1976),
Zaghawa Dances (1957), and Una Corte Pittoresca, filmed among the Ndebele of South
Africa. A generation of female anthropologists and filmmakers have befriended their
African female subjects and thus produced especially sensitive and illuminating films on
women in Africa in the early 1990s. For more than twenty years, Melissa Llewelyn-Davis
had been working and living with the Maasai of the Loita Hills in Kenya, near the
Tanzanian border. Memories and Dreams (1994) is a follow-up to her previous works A
Maasai Diary (1984) and The Women’s Olamal (1984). The latter documents a political
struggle in which the Loita Maasai women force the men to perform a fertility ritual.
Memories and Dreams is an exemplary work on long-term relationships and a unique
exploration of an African community’s changing attitudes towards women’s roles, sex,
love, and marriage during the past twenty years. The Hamar Trilogy (1990, Southern
Ethiopia), by Joanna Head and Jean Lydall, invites several women from different
generations to reflect on marriage and sex in their culture. We follow two girls through
the rituals of marriage, and revisit one of them a few years later. Contes et Comptes de la
Cour (1992), by Eliane de Latour, documents the life of four wives of a local chief,
obliged to stay confined to their courtyard. They are not totally powerless—using gobetweens, they control a small trade network—but they are confronted with the jealousy
inherent to polygamous marriage. These films are outstanding due to the quality of the
relations between the filmmakers and the subjects (the degree of intimacy, the discrete
reflexivity), the complexity of information and the sometimes conflicting values within
the same culture. John Marhall’s life story of a !Kung woman in the Kalahari desert is
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also fascinating. In this extraordinary film, Marshall accumulated footage over a thirtyyear period and focused on the life of !Nai, a wonderful character, who analyzes in the
film the dramatic change in the life of the !Kung after they were removed from their
nomadic life and relocated on a government settlement. The film acknowledges
reflexivity, as it documents the impact of film shooting in an “exotic” environment.
Funeral Rituals
As funerals are a major public event and, most of the time, spectacular feasts (at least
when the defunct is an elder), they have often been filmed. Jean Rouch, sometimes with
the help of Germaine Dieterlen, has made many films on Dogon funerals. Cemetery in the
Cliff; filmed in 1951, follows the Dogon funeral ritual of a man who died in the village of
Ireli. Funerals in Bongo—Anai Dolo 1848–1970, chronicles the funeral of an elder of the
masks society, who was reputed to be 122 years old. The Burial of the Hogon (1972)
describes the funeral rites as the Hogon, the paramount religious leader of the Sanga
region dies and is buried. The hunter-warriors gather near the deceased priest’s house and
simulate a battle, using guns, spears, or millet stalks, while the body is placed in a sacred
cave. The shooting of Ambara Dama (1974), is a remarkable story: Ambara had given the
information on the funeral rituals (Dama) to Marcel Griaule, the initiator of a huge
ethnographic project on the Dogon. Years later, and years after Griaule’s death, his
former student, Jean Rouch, uses the book to film the funeral of Ambara. Interestingly
enough, in 1956, François de Dieu had filmed the Dogon Funerals of Professor Marcel
Griaule, as the Dogon celebrated the memory of the man who studied their customs for
so many years. Rouch also made some films on funeral rituals (Pam Kuso Kar, 1974;
Souna Kuma, 1975; Simiri Siddo Kuma, 1978). He eventually filmed Moro Naba (1957),
the funeral ceremony of the traditional leader of the Mossi of the Ouagadougou region in
Upper Volta (now Burkina Faso). The film contains the election ceremonies for the
successor, the feast for the end of mourning, and the ceremony in the palace, with
warriors in traditional dress. The procession is extraordinary, with the elder daughter and
elder son incarnating the defunct chief in different parts of the ritual, as does a wood
statue carried by the dancers.
In Voubira, among the Lobi of Burkina Faso, Fiéloux and Lombard have filmed the
mourning for Bindouté Da, a prominent, “traditional” chief and a colonial agent. His
nineteen wives prepare a huge quantity of millet beer to welcome the guests. A diviner
transmits the ultimate will of the defunct chief. His children mime his life history, and the
filmmakers evoke his life too, using archives and family photographs (Bindouté Da’s
Bobur, 1988). Minyanka Funerals, from the Diary of a Dry Season (1987) series, shows
the funerals of an old woman who had an important function in a possession cult. At
midnight, a possessed man, incarnating the deity of that particular cult, weeps and
laments over the corpse
Two years after his father’s death, the Cameroonese director François Woukoache
filmed the ceremonies that take place at the end of the traditional mourning period, which
provided him with an opportunity to examine the Bamileke legacy and the Christian
identity of many young people in Cameroon today (Melina, 1992). Among the Massa in
North Cameroon, young men, called guru, or sacred herders, perform a special ritual
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during funerals (Guruna, Sacred Herders, 1958). The same director, the anthropologist
Igor de Garine, shot Réjouissances sénégalaises (1967) in the Serer village of Khombole
in Senegal, where an old dancer had died. On the Grave of a Chief (1965), filmed in
Chad, documents the funerals of the village’s headman. Here, too, the friends of the
deceased evoke his personality through performance. Les Somba, hommes des chateaux
(1956), by Henry Brandt, describing the life of highlanders in North Benin, shows part of
a funeral dance. The same type of sequence, as performed by the Fali of North
Cameroon, can be seen in The Fali (1972) by Jean Gauthier. In the south of Madagascar,
among the Mahafay, Raymond Arnaud filmed the two last days of an old woman’s
funeral (Funerals in Mahafaly Country, 1980). Jacques Lombard shot two films on
funeral ritual in the same region, Funerals of a Mahafale Herder (1988) and a short film
describing the carving of a “funeral staff”, aloalo, by a sculptor from the same region. In
1962, Aimé Fournel filmed Exhumation, showing the last tribute paid to recent ancestors
when they are given a new grave.
Professions
Some films produced by the IWF of Göttingen minutely describe the technological
process of iron making, but we are only interested here in the symbolic apparatus
associated to this process. In West Africa, in the Mande region and surrounding areas,
blacksmiths belong to an endogamous social class. In many other places, such as among
the Senufo, they have a special status, too. The very act of iron making is often
metaphorically compared—in songs, prayers, and incantations—to breeding. Blacksmiths
are very often magicians, surgeons, and weapons makers. Nicole Echard has made two
excellent films on the subject in 1967 among the Hausa of Niger: Blacksmiths, Sons of
Women, showing the functions and activities of the blacksmiths, including songs, dances,
and bewitching ritual, and Wedding of Fire, an accurate reconstitution of the fusion of
iron in a blast. In Inagina, the Ultimate House of Iron (1997), a documentary with a
poetic narration, eleven Dogon blacksmiths meet to build a traditional furnace. Several
films document ironmaking in northern Cameroon (Kirdi, 1963; Ironmaking among the
Matakam, 1953; Dokwaza, 1988).
Other professional groups may have cultural specificities, rules, and obligations. They
may also be the official leaders of particular rituals. Among the Hausa of Niger, the
butchers form a despised, but feared, corporation. Each Wednesday in Bagagi, in the
Mawri region, they are the principal participants in one of the chief community rituals
(Mahauta, The Butchers from Mawri, 1965). Three celebrations (1987), shot near
Koutiala in Mali, follow folkloric festivals performed by blacksmiths, clowns, and
hunters. Similarly, Les rites de chasse en pays minyanka (1990), by the Malian writer
Urbain N’Dembélé, emphasizes the relation between expertise and secret knowledge.
Conclusion
The status of the other is never totally objective. Projection or fabrication always creates
and shapes, to a certain degree, exoticizing imagery, because it functions within a
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“system of opposition and identity” (see Nichols, 191, 205). Trinh T. Minh-Ha has called
the tradition of certain knowledge into question in her films Reassemblage (1982) and
Naked Spaces (1985). In that sense, films pasting together images of African folklore
may also be analyzed as reflecting the filmmaker’s personal folklore. These biases are
obvious in travel films such as In the Country of the Black Sultans (1925), with its images
of stone eaters, snake charmers, clowns, and wrestling, and its condescending narration,
or Black Majesty (1930), in which American millionaires explore the “wild” continent.
As already mentioned, wildness is often exploited in the portrait of the Nuba of Sudan (In
the Search of the Nuba Warriors). Such a folklorization is also obvious in films
tribalizing the geographic map (Black African Heritage: The Congo, 1973; Simba, the
King of Beasts). Folkloric stereotypes are indeed still very common in television
reportage, but more and more frequently, filmmakers make a special effort to avoid such
bias. To present accurate descriptions is the main goal and difficulty for anthropologists
and filmmakers in the field. They can never be totally satisfied with the result, but they
can work to improve their ethnography.
The moving picture seems to be the perfect tool to depict ceremonies as well as the
performances of artists such as griots, clowns, and storytellers, who offer a pleasant
diversion from the harsher aspects of life. But documentary cinema can also confront
intrinsic complexities of African ways of life. In African performances, one can observe
public events that are organized to attract audiences or please high-ranking individuals,
and events that fulfill an educational and initiatory function. Nearly everywhere in Africa,
culture used to be transmitted through apprenticeship and initiation. In this case,
transmission was strictly codified by ritual protocols, interdictions, and secrecy (Bellman
1984). Even entertaining activities may convey messages related to more secret forms of
knowledge. As cinema belongs to mass communication, it has dealt mainly with
performances of the first category and has treated in a more elusive way the initiatory
contexts. There is, in fact, a striking contradiction in the attempt to show what is precisely
forbidden, because if the filmmaker succeeds, he or she only proves that the rule
regarding secrecy is not firmly enforced, and thus it loses its power.
Night creates different meaning than day; this represents a major difficulty for
filmmakers. Good or threatening spirits are supposed to be active, or more active, during
the night, and many rituals occur in the darkness. A significant amount of messages,
gestures, and rituals are therefore out of reach of the camera. In many rituals, daylight
images can only give a reductionist view of African folklore, and artificial light
inevitably transforms the situation. Many filmic sequences, as we see them today, result
from a compromise and have to be understood as such. Do such films succeed or fail in
their goal to accurately report upon a context? Anthropologists and filmmakers, as well as
the filmed African subjects themselves, continue to ponder this question, but to observe,
one needs an observer.
References
Note: This paper would not be written without a grant from the AMNH (American
Museum of Natural History) received in 1998 to study the relations between documentary
film and anthropology.
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268
Apter, A. 1992. Black Critics and Kings. The Hermeneutics of Power in Yoruba Society. Chicago:
University of Chicago Press.
Barnouw, Erik. 1974. Documentary, A History of Non-Fiction Film. Oxford: Oxford University
Press. Rev. ed. 1984, 1993.
Bascom, William. 1965. Folklore and Anthropology. In Dundes, ed.
——. 1984. The Forms of Folklore. In Dundes, ed.
Bellman, B.L. 1984. The Language of Secrecy: Symbols and Metaphors in Poro Ritual. New
Brunswick: Rutgers University Press.
Bendix, Regina, and Rosemary Levy Zumwalt, eds. 1995. Folklore Interpreted: Essays in Honor of
Alan Dundes. New York : Garland Publishing.
Diawara, Manthia. 1998. In Search of Africa. Harvard University Press.
Dundes, Alan, ed. 1965. The Study of Folklore. Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice Hall.
——. 1984. Sacred Narrative: Readings in the Theory of Myth. Berkeley: University of California
Press.
——. 1980. Interpreting Folklore. Bloomington and London: Indiana University Press.
Fabian, Johannes. 1990. Power and Performance: Ethnographic Explorations through Proverbial
Wisdom and Theater in Shaba, Zaire. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press.
Hockings, Paul, ed. 1975, 1995. Principles of Visual Anthropology. Series title: World
Anthropology. The Hague: Mouton.
Lems-Dworkin, Carol. 1996. Video of African and African-Related Performance: An Annoted
Bibliography. Evanston, Ill: Lems-Dworkin.
MacDougall, David. 1975. Beyond Observational Cinema. In Principles of Visual Anthropology,
ed. Paul Hockings. The Hague: Mouton.
——. 1998. Transcultural Cinema. With an introduction by Lucien Taylor. Princeton, N.J.:
Princeton Universoty Press.
Mauss, Marcel. 2001. Sociologie et anthropologie, 9th ed. Paris: PUF, Quadrige. Pref. by Cl. LéviStrauss.
Owusu. 1978. Ethnography of Africa: The Usefulness of the Useless. American Anthropologist 80,
no. 2:310–34.
Ruby, Jay, ed. 1982. A Crack in the Mirror. Reflexive Perpective in Anthropology. Philadelphia.
See the Filmography to “Documentary Films and African Folklore” at back of book,
for a detailed listing of African-themed documentaries.
JEAN-PAUL COLLEYN
FOLKTALES
The folktale is perhaps the quintessential expression of verbal art in Africa, often
attracting the community’s most sensitive narrators, particularly those with a keen sense
of observation and imaginative description. Although its significance may have decreased
with the spread of literacy and urbanization in Africa, the folktale is still vividly narrated
in rural domestic settings. In parts of rural Ghana, narrators have moved beyond casual
telling, and have formed professional storytelling associations in the last thirty years;
these organizations entertain communities at wakes and other important events.
Storytelling has also moved to the mass media in recent times and may be heard or seen
on radio and television.
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Even though the tale is told largely for artistic reasons, performers and audiences
hardly lose sight of its moral or meaning, whether it advocates patience, punishes greed
and selfishness or merely explains the source of the crab’s fatty shell. In any case, themes
in the folktale may be conveyed by a set of characters with stereotypical traits belonging
to the human, animal, and metaphysical realms. Human characters range from infant
protagonists, to maidens, young suitors, kings, and old ladies.
Tricksters
Tales involving animals and tricksters are the most prevalent. Such stories may juxtapose
the brute strength of big and ferocious beasts like the leopard, elephant, and wolf, with
the fragility of small but wily animals, known for their intrigues and enormous capacity
to outwit bigger opponents, including supernatural beings. Such wily creatures are often
heroes, tricksters, and culture bearers.
Characterized by Radin as “creator and destroyer, giver and negator, he who dupes
others and who is always duped himself (Radin 1952, xxiii), the trickster appears in
multiple forms in Africa, mostly as an animal, but occasionally as a human being, or a
deity. In contemporary Egyptian culture, there are two trickster figures, both humans,
who are believed to have existed in the past (El-Shamy 1980, 219–21). In Yoruba and
Fon cultures, the tricksters are deities. In several other parts of Africa, the tricksters are
animals. Among the Bantu, it is the little hare. The tortoise is the trickster in some parts
of West Africa. Among the Ila of Zambia, hare and tortoise co-exist as tricksters. The
antelope, squirrel, weasel, and wren also occur as tricksters in other parts of Africa.
The spider, the best-known trickster in Africa, exists among the Limba of Sierra
Leone, the Hausa of Nigeria, Gbaya of Cameroon, Sara of Chad, Luo and Azande of
Sudan, and Ngbandi of Congo (Finnegan 1970, 315 et seq.). Among the Akan of Ghana
and in parts of Cote d’Ivoire, the spider is Ananse. The eminence of Ananse as a
character in Akan and Ghanaian folktales in general, as is evident in the label anansesem,
“matters of Ananse,” which designates the folktale based on whether or not it features
Ananse. Ananse indeed embodies the quintessence of esthetic pleasure. This delight is
achieved through cunning, trickery, humor, and the outwitting of physically superior
adversaries.
Significantly, Ananse was transported in the African diaspora during the transatlantic
slave trade to the Caribbean. Besides the presence of Ananse in Caribbean tales, the name
evokes associations of farce, fiction, and entertainment. In the St. Vincent Islands,
“Anansi story” stands for all amusements displayed during wakes, whether these are tales
of the spider, riddles, or games.
The artistic merits of the folktale are only partly realized in text. While the literary
ingredients of irony, metaphor, hyperbole, personification, and so forth can be discerned
in a tale text, it takes a good performer to portray optimally the folktale as an art form.
Thus, even though the trickster in Africa is considered the best embodiment of esthetic
pleasure, delight, trickery, humor, and fantasy, this can be realized only through the
agency of performance. In the case of Ananse, for example, he cannot be effectively
depicted outside the culture’s perception of his stereotypical trait as an anomalous
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speaker: he whines. In the West Indies, he also lisps and stutters and often speaks poor
English.
Performance
The fact that the folktale is considered a source of aesthetic pleasure is illustrated in the
formulas that frame a performance. The opening and closing formulae invariably depict
the absence of truth in the tale. The opening formula used by Haya of Tanzania, “See so
that we may see” (Seitel 1980), chanted by the audience, places a responsibility on the
teller to portray vividly an imaginative experience that fulfills the society’s aesthetic
canons. The Ashanti-Akan of Ghana use the introductory formula, “We don’t really mean
it, we don’t really mean it” (that the impending narration is true). Among the Fanti-Akan,
the narrator’s formula, “The tale is not meant to believed,” elicits the audience’s
response, “It is meant to be kept,” once again emphasizing imaginative fantasy as the
dominant aesthetic. Indeed, among the Agni of Cote d’Ivoire, the expression for telling a
tale means, “to lie” (Galli 1983, 22).
In certain cultures, the performance is further boosted by the presence of an auxiliary
performer, or intermediary, who receives the tale and passes it on to the wider audience.
As in royal oratory and epic singing, the respondent receives the narration in bits as it is
told and either repeats it literally it or adjoins a phrase of assent. Such institutionalized
mediations in tale telling are found among several cultures in West Africa. They also
exist in certain traditions of storytelling among African Americans (Jones-Jackson 1987,
44).
Histrionics
In enacting the tale itself, the narrator relies on dramatic, literary, and linguistic devices,
and, indeed, deploys every technique within his artistic reach. Even though he is
instructing his audience about moral values, the aesthetic factor is dominant as the tale’s
ploc may already be known. The story is appreciated, tasted, even eaten, if it is
aesthetically pleasing. So the storyteller mimes, growls like a leopard, whines like
Ananse, and tiptoes his way as Ananse sneaks to the kitchen of God’s in-laws. The
narrator stretches every sinew to enact all roles in the plot single-handedly and vividly
portray a multisensory experience in words.
Descriptive skills are inevitable here, and one important device African narrators have
used to good effect are descriptive adverbials—ideophones (Noss, 1972)—which vividly
depict multisensory experience: sound, smell, sensation, touch, and color. Other devices
are descriptive details, dialogue, personalization, and song.
Song
Song, dance, and music are indispensable in storytelling, and performances without these
elements are considered drab. But one should distinguish here between the intranarrative
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song, which is an integral part of a tale’s plot, sung by a character in the tale, and song
spasmodically injected by the audience to arrest boredom.
The intranarrative song may be performed by a character in dramatic moments, either
as a dialogue device, to delay action, achieve a magical feat, highlight agony, or mark
relief. Owing to the importance of song in narration, a performer among the Gbaya may
apologize in advance if his tale has no song (Noss 1977, 138).
Even when there is no song in a tale’s plot, any member of the audience, in certain
cultures, may petition the narrator and lead a song to arrest boredom. The song interjected
may have no thematic relevance to the tale at hand, but like the intranarrative lyric, it
enlists total participation by petitioner, narrator, and the rest of the audience.
Songs in folktales have simple choruses and lend themselves easily to communal
involvement, drumming, and dancing. This compels total immersion by the entire
congregation, who may provide background rhythm by clapping or beating on
improvised instruments.
Closing Formula
As the tale ends, the closing formula once again underscores the supremacy of the
communal aesthetic. The Akan say, “If my tale is sweet, if it is not sweet, take it back and
forth.” This is indeed a formulaic acknowledgment of the inherent hazards in exposing
oneself to the evaluation of a critical audience, whose high expectations may have been
upheld or disappointed.
It is not surprising that tale telling is depicted as a burden in parts of Africa; for after
his turn, the narrator among the Gbaya of Cameroon sets the “burden” under a tree (Noss
1977, 136) and among the Akan transfers the “burden” onto the head of a chosen
performer (Yankah 1983, 12), who is challenged to equal or surpass the previous effort.
The folktale in Africa is a burden, but it is a burden gracefully borne by narrators and
diffused to embrace the audience at large.
References
Agovi, J.K. 1973. Preliminary Observations on the Modern Short Story and African Folktale
Tradition. Research Review 9:123–9.
Dundes, A. 1980. The Making and Breaking of Friendship as a Structural Frame in African
Folktales. In Structural Analysis of Oral Tradition, ed. Pierre Maranda and Eli El. Chicago:
University of Chicago Press.
El Shamy, Hassan. 1980. Folktales of Egypt. University of Chicago Press.
Evans-Pritchard, E.E. 1967. The Zande Trickster. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Finnegan, R. 1967. Limba Stories and Storytelling. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
——. 1970. Oral Literature in Africa. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Galli, S. 1972. Storytelling among the Agni-Bona. In Cross Rhythms, ed. Kofi Anyidoho et al.
Bloomington: Trickster Press. 1983.
Jones-Jackson, P. 1987. When Roots Die: Endangered Traditions on the Sea Islands. Athens:
University of Georgia Press.
Noss, P. 1970. Description in Gbaya Literary Art. In African Folklore, ed. Richard Dorson,
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
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272
——. The Performance of the Gbaya Tale. In Forms of Folklore in Africa, ed. Bernth Lindfors.
Austin: University of Texas Press. 1997. 135–143.
Okpeuho, Isidore. 1972. African Oral Literature: Background, Character, and Continuity.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Pelton, R.D. 1980. The Trickster in West Africa: A Study of Mythical Irony and Sacred Delight.
Berkeley: University of California Press.
Radin, P. 1952. The Trickster. New York: Schoken Books.
Scheub, H. 1975. The Xhosa Ntsomi. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Seitel, P. 1980. See So That We May See: Performances and Interpretations of Traditional Tales
from Tanzania. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Yankah, K. 1983. The Akan Trickster Cycle: Myth or Folktale? Bloomington, Indiana: African
Studies Program.
——. 1989. From Africa to the New World: The Dynamics of the Anansi Cycle. In Literature of
Africa and the African Continuum, ed. Jonathan Peters et al. Washington, D.C.: The Three
Continents Press and African Literature Association.
KWESI YANKAH
See also Dilemma Tales; Prose Narratives; Tricksters
FOLKTALES OF THE BAMANA
The Bamana (or Bambara) language, spoken mostly in Mali and in eastern Senegal, is
part of the Mande language family. From both a linguistic and a cultural point of view it
belongs to the Manding group that covers much of Mali, part of eastern Senegal, northern
Guinea, northern Cote d’Ivoire, and southwestern Burkina Faso. The two Mande
languages that are the most similar are Mandinka and Dyula.
Bamana tales comprise a rich and varied cultural-literary heritage, and a wide
selection of Bamana folk tales has been collected and studied by Western scholars,
particularly since the 1970s. Earlier, especially during the colonial period, only soldiers,
missionaries, and colonial administrators were interested in this material. The major
earlier collectors were Lieutenant Lanrezac, author of a book on Sudanese folklore,
Maurice Delafosse, and especially F.V.Equilbecq. After them, linguists, ethnographers,
and anthropologists, each with his or her own agenda, entered this field of study.
The first collection of tales published in Bamana with a French translation was done
by an African interpreter, Moussa Travele, who published seventy-one folk tales and
twenty-two proverbs in 1923. Soon afterwards came the ethnographic work of Charles
Monteil (1924), but it was not until nearly fifty years later that further bilingual
collections were published. In 1971, Charles Ballieul published eighteen texts in Bamana.
Veronika Görög-Karady and Gérard Meyer published forty-four texts in 1974 and twelve
in 1985. Other collections were published by Pierre Deglaire and G.Meyer (1976),
V.Görög-Karady and Abdoulaye Diarra (1979), G.Meyer (1988), Gérard Dumestre
(1989), and Annik Thoyer (1997). Görög-Karady and Meyer also published twenty-four
Bamana tales in French translation in 1984, and twenty more in 1988. In Mali, Popular
Editions of Mali has published several collections in French of which those by Isa Traore
(1970) and Bokar N’Diaye (1970) contain Bamana tales.
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Performance
Well-recorded and carefully transcribed texts record performance contexts. Men, women,
and young people can recite tales in turn in the evening; it is not considered suitable for
one person to monopolize the word. The performer uses the introductory formula “Here
is the tale I have chosen” and the ending formula “I return the tale to where I found it.”
Songs are inserted in the tales to make the audience participate. In order to recite the
narrative, the storyteller regularly calls up a person, the respondent, who, in the name of
the audience, punctuates every phrase with a word of approbation. The storyteller as well
as the respondent may offer their explanatory and moralizing commentary at the end of
the story. Often the final sequences of a tale will vary according to the version being
narrated.
Themes
Bamana tales emphasize themes that are important for collective survival, such as the
opposition between the strength of blood ties and the fragility of marriage ties, malefemale antagonisms, tensions within polygynous families, the often difficult relations
between parents and children, and relations between the human world and the
supernatural world, and between the human and animal realms. Classified as fiction, the
Bamana tale allows the expression of true feelings, even those that are violent or antisocial, and also allows for different forms of tension silenced or denied by official social
discourse.
Among the female personages in Bamana stories is the demanding young girl who
rebels against the customary marriage process and wishes to choose her husband for
herself, and the young animal seductress who is disguised as a human in order to destroy
the man who wants to marry her. These threatening female figures are opposed to the
devoted mothers who guard their children against perilous male or female alliances.
Another negatively portrayed female character is the evil mother, the sorceress who
threatens the life of her son or her daughter-in-law. This sorceress mother character is
absent from the repertoire of most neighboring peoples, for example, the Fulani. Another
common female character is the old woman who takes the role of mediator, counselor, or
bearer of news. This function is never filled by an old man, although it is occasionally
attributed to a hunter.
A unique feature of Bambara tales is the presence of the incest desire, which occurs
more frequently and more overtly than in the tales of other peoples in Africa or in the
West. In Mali, the theme of incest is absent among the Fulani and the Dogon, populations
that have much contact with the Bamana. Many stories present amorous attractions
between brothers and sisters; many others depict a father who declares a strong desire to
marry his own daughter. However, this plan is put to a stop by the intervention of a
supernatural being. Also present are stories, rare or nonexistent among neighboring
peoples, which demonstrate the father’s hostility toward his sons and his aspiration to
prevent their access to sexuality and to marriage.
Bamana tales propose models of behavior both positive (the protagonist does what
should be done), or, more often, negative (the protagonist does not act honorably and is
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punished as a result). Thus, the rules of the genre are regulated by the dialectics of good
and evil, and by the final imposition of respect for social law. (For ethnosociological and
ethnopsychological interpretations of Bamana tales refer to the studies of Veronika
Gorog-Karady [1987, 1992, 1994] and to the introductions of the previously cited works).
References
Dumestre, Gerard. 1989. La pierre barbue Contes du Mali. Angers: Bibliotheque Municipale.
Görög-Karady, Veronika. 1992a. Tales and Ideology: The Revolt of Sons in Bambara-Malinke
Tales. In Power, Marginality, and Oral Literature. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
——. 1992b. The Law of the Father. Paternal Authority and Marriage Test in Bambara Malinke
Tales. In Interpreting Folktales, Marriage Tests, and Marriage Quests in African Oral
Literature, Marvels and Tales, vol. 6, no. 2.
——. 1994. Social Speech and Speech of the Imagination: Female Identity and Ambivalence in
Bambara Malinke Oral Literature, Oral Tradition 9, no. 1:60–82.
——. 1997. L’univers familials dans les contes africains, Liens de sang, liens d’alliance. Paris:
L’Harmattan.
Görög-Karady, Veronika, and Diarra Abdoulaie. 1979. Contes bambara du Mali. 2 vols. Paris:
Presses orientaliste de France. (Bambara and French.)
Görög-Karady, Veronika, and Gerard Meyer. 1985. Contes bambara. Paris: Conseil International
de la Langue francaise. (Bambara andFrench).
Thoyer, Annick. 1997. Le riche et le pauvre et autres contes bamanan du Mali. Paris: L’Harmattan.
Travele, Moussa. 1977. Proverbes et contes bambara (1923). Paris: Maisonneuve et Larose.
(Bambara and French.)
VERONIKA GÖRÖG-KARADY
See also Dilemma Tales; Folktales; Linguistics and African Verbal Arts; Old
Man and Old Woman; Oral Literature: Issues of Definition and Terminology; Oral
Narrative; Oral Traditions, African; Performance in Africa; Prose Narratives
FOLKLORE
See Maqalat
FOODWAYS: CATTLE AND SORGHUM
GRAIN IN JIE COSMOLOGY
The Jie people, who live on the central Karamoja Plateau in northern Uganda, have a
mixed economy of agriculture and animal husbandry, with a strong emphasis placed upon
the latter. In 1996, the Jie population numbered about 50,000, and they lived within the
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borders of Najie, a flat land of approximately 1,300 square miles, situated in a dry and
warm high plateau zone. As a distinct ecological zone, Najie has thin wild vegetation and
a dry climate. Sorghum is cultivated as the most important crop in the Jie peoples’ diet
and economy. Varieties of sorghum grow well in the cotton soil of Najie, as do numerous
varieties of fruits, bushes, and thorny plants that are all important to the economy of the
Jie people.
The historical dependence of the Jie on sorghum and cattle for their livelihood plays a
special role in creating a dual and complementary cosmology, which informs social and
political relations. While cattle signifies male food, sorghum signifies female food. In the
Jie culture in general, cattle are the primary source of conflict and resentment within the
family as well as between communities. When conflict over cattle occurs, women offer
their sorghum grain and sorghum beer as a sign of peace. While the cattle brand
(amachar) regulates relationships between fathers and sons and between older and
younger brothers, sorghum regulates relationships between mothers and daughters, and
between older and younger sisters.
The Jie Deities
This dual and complementary nature of cattle and sorghum grain can perhaps be better
understood by learning about the Jie cosmology. A predominant interpretation of the Jie
deities is characterized by the dual and complementary nature of cattle and grain
metaphors. According to the Jie storytellers Rianoro, Logwee, and Lodoch (interviewed
by the author in the village of Jimos in 1996), the Jie people have two deities: Akuj, a
male deity, and his counterpart Ekipe, a female deity, who live in the sacred hills in the
wilderness. While Akuj is associated with the sun, Ekipe is associated with the moon.
Akuj and Ekipe periodically visit the villages from the world that is located behind the
clouds in the deep sky, where there is no death, hunger, or aging.
When Akuj visits the people in the villages, he burns the land and causes the crops to
fail and the cattle to die, thus creating prolonged drought and famine. When Ekipe visits
the people, incessant winds blow and the rains pour, causing people to suffer from the
cold. The Jie world is harmonious when Akuj and Ekipe achieve a balanced relationship.
According to most Jie storytellers’ interpretation, Akuj and Ekipe are the projection of
the sun and the moon, respectively. The dual and complementary qualities of the Jie
deities are attributed to their dual ancestors Orwakol (the male ancestor) and Losilang
(the female ancestor), who gave cattle and grain to the Jie people as gifts.
The dual qualities of the Jie deities are also projected in their staple foods of cattle and
sorghum. It is in this sense that cattle and sorghum occupy a special place in the Jie
people’s diet. Cattle products such as milk, blood, and meat, and sorghum products, such
as sorghum bread, and sorghum beer, are not only staple food in a practical sense, they
are also the food used on ceremonial occasions when ritual performances require their
consumption.
The Jie historical traditions show a gradual development of the symbolic powers of
cattle and sorghum. The development of the supremacy of cattle and sorghum are closely
associated with their symbolic equation with the Jie ancestors and their relationships with
the ancient Jie politico-religious system. In a number of traditions, cattle and sorghum are
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assigned special significance, which reveals how cattle and sorghum gained supremacy
over other food staples.
Various traditions demonstrate a gradual process whereby agricultural-pastoral
cosmology and its ritual performance became the bulwark of the ancient Jie politicoreligious system. According to the Jie storytellers, the politico-religious leadership was
founded on cattle keeping and a sorghum-based agriculture, which gradually developed
during the preceding centuries. The early agricultural leaders were also political leaders,
whose power stemmed from their ability to solicit powers from the ancestors in order to
ensure good sorghum crops and green pastures. Thus, the annual agriculturally oriented
ritual served, and continues to serve, to legitimize and rejuvenate the politico-religious
leaders and their power. For this reason, many Jie storytellers consider the ekeworon, or
fire maker, to be the original leadership figure; he and his eldest wife serve as the first
and foremost officials of agricultural ceremonies, which are performed to ensure the
blessings of the ancestors for new crops and the safe return of the cattle from the grazing
lands.
The dominant ritual that marks the appropriation of symbolic power by the cattle is a
male initiation ritual known as the asapan, which is performed approximately every forty
years. The appropriation of power by sorghum, however, takes place through the
performance of the harvest ritual called ngitalio a ngimomwa (customs of sorghum), and
it is based on the annual movement of the sorghum grains from the granary of the fire
maker’s eldest wife to the Jie gardens and back to her granary, ritually. These rituals
embody the most important social roles of cattle and sorghum grains. The performance of
both the asapan and the harvest ritual is an enactment of myths, and it constitutes a
cosmic gift exchange. These rituals represent a cosmological gift exchange between the
deities and humankind. The symbolic power of cattle and grain is derived from the
everyday sharing of cattle and grain among the people and from their practical use in the
discourses of everyday life. In both the male initiation and in the harvest rituals, eating is
the dominant metaphorical act in appropriating symbolic power.
MUSTAFA KEMAL MIRZELER
See also East African Folklore
FOODWAYS: YORUBA FOOD
VENDORS
Street vendors are found everywhere in Africa : at bus and train stations, taxi stands, and
city street corners. Competition is fierce, so one has to work hard to attract buyers.
Amounts are small—a box of matches, a few oranges, fried cakes—so one must sell as
much as possible to earn a decent wage. The following examples of food vendors’ sales
songs were recorded in Lagos, Nigeria. Yoruba food vendors, usually women and small
children, are known for their creativity in attracting people to buy their wares. Their sales
cries depend on catchy melodies as well as lyrics which identify their wares in some
humorous or striking fashion. The following are a few examples.
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For Pounded Yam (iyan)
Iyan re!
Good Pounded Yam!
Obe re!
Good Stew!
E woju obe
Look at the color of the stew
For Corn Starch (ogi)
Ologi dida re, toro o!
I’m the seller of ogi, three
penny measure!
Ologi dida re, kobo kakan
I’m the seller of ogi, one
penny measure!
Toro, kobo
Penny, one penny measure.
Ni mobu ogi yio
That’s how I have portioned
my ogi!
For Fried Plantains (dodo):
Omu agba
Shaped like a full woman’s
breast
Omu ewe
Shaped like a teenager’s breast
For Bean Pudding (ole) and Corn Flour Pudding (eko):
Ole re!
This is ole!
Eko re o!
This is eko!
For Kerosene (epo):
Epo oyinbo
Whiteman’s oil
Epo anti
Aunty’s oil
Epo buroda
Brother’s oil
Mogbepo de Toro
I bring oil In three penny measure
Kobo
In one penny measure
Lepo oyinbo
Is whiteman’s oil
AKINSOLA AKIWOWO
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FRENCH STUDY OF AFRICAN
FOLKLORE
The first Europeans to be seriously interested in African cultures and in the spiritual life
of indigenous peoples were Catholic and Protestant missionaries. The main objective of
their presence in Africa, as elsewhere in the non-Christian world, was evangelical work.
Such a task required language training, as well as knowledge of institutions, mores,
customs, and local belief systems. From this perspective, the discovery of indigenous
verbal arts offered valuable access to the mental world of the people in question. Certain
genres such as proverbs, sayings, and fables could be used directly in sermons; the words
of the Christian Scriptures could be adapted to the melodies of native songs. Knowing the
tales with their relatively simple vocabulary facilitated learning the language concerned.
Furthermore, people were often favorably impressed by the missionaries’ efforts in
gathering texts, and this contributed in creating relationships of trust between the
missionaries and their flocks.
The Forerunners: Missionaries and Administrators
The French Catholic missionaries and the Francophone Swiss Protestant missionaries
settled in areas that extended beyond the current borders of Francophone Africa into
certain British and Portuguese colonies. A forerunner was Eugène Casalis, who spent
close to twenty-five years in Sotholand (now Lesotho in southern Africa) and whose
ethnological and linguistic works (1841, 1859) contain a rich sampling of Tswana poetry,
songs, proverbs, enigmas, and stories in French. As early as the second half of the
nineteenth century, among the French missionary congregations, the White Fathers, the
congregation of the Holy Spirit and of the African Missionaries of Lyons, France, were
notable. They settled on the coast of Dahomey (now Benin) and Nigeria. One of their
members, Father Pierre-Bertrand Bouche, published an anthology of Nago (Yoruba)
proverbs and riddles in 1883 and, in 1885, an ethnological monograph, two chapters of
which are devoted to stories and maxims. Several other church people also prepared
language manuals, dictionaries, and linguistic studies containing texts of narratives in the
original language. These included translations, as well as occasional commentaries. The
Songay manual published in 1897, which presents sixteen tales and is the result of the
collaborative work of Father Hacquard and A.A.Dupuis, is one example.
It was not until the end of the nineteenth century that the missionaries were joined in
these endeavors by colonial administrators (although the first governor of Senegal, Baron
Roger, published Wolof tales much earlier in 1828), doctors, and military staff. For the
training of the staff of the French overseas territories, a specialized school (the Colonial
School) was created in 1889. Subsequently, several governors and administrators of the
colonies in West Africa—including Maurice Delafosse, Henri Gaden, and René Basset—
authored ethnographic, historical, and linguistic works containing, on a regular basis,
texts of oral literature. The pioneering work by François-Victor Equilbecq, published in
three volumes in 1913–1916, must be granted a special place because the author
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undertook the collection of texts on a very large scale. His published corpus contains 117
texts in the first edition, to which 50 others were added in a posthumous edition in 1972.
He gathered these texts between 1904 and 1912 during his successive stays in Senegal,
Guinea, and Mali, as well as in Gourma country (currently a part of today’s Burkina
Faso). Like the approach of a folklorist today, he gives the name, the ethnic origin, and
brief information about the storytellers as well as about the conditions of the gathering
effort. For example, he notes that the propitious time for tale telling is the evening, the
half-light. He is conscious of the problems of translation and the difficulties raised by the
passage from the oral form to the written text, hoping that “neither the content nor the
details have had to suffer from his concern for improvement” (1972, 23). He is not only
respectful toward the social groups he explores but also familiar with contemporary
studies dealing with folklore in Europe and elsewhere. His scholarly knowledge allows
him to identify the recurrent themes, characters, motifs, and procedures used by the
African storytellers that are also found elsewhere, and at the same time, to point out the
specific features of the narrative world peculiar to West Africa.
The interest taken by the colonial administration in the scholarly works of these agents
is demonstrated by the creation in 1916 of the Committee for the Historical and Scientific
Study of French West Africa in Dakar. The purpose of this committee was to coordinate
and centralize the research undertaken under the patronage of the general government.
The publications of the Committee (issued as a quarterly beginning in 1918) changed
names several times. Beginning in 1938, the review appeared under the title Bulletin de
l’Institut Français d’Afrique Noire (Bulletin of the French Institute of Black Africa);
then, after independence in 1958, as Bulletin de l’Institut Fondamental d’Afrique Noire
(Bulletin of the Fundamental Institute of Black Africa). This periodical often offers
important samples of texts and studies on oral narratives. During the period between the
two world wars, the administrators and officials of public and religious education
continued to promote ethnographic and linguistic scholarship. Several monographs
appeared with an appendix or an independent chapter devoted to the texts of oral
literature. Volumes devoted exclusively to verbal arts also appeared, thanks in particular
to René Trautmann, a medical practitioner, and to the administrators mentioned earlier,
such as Maurice Delafosse and Henri Gaden.
The Beginning of Professional Ethnology
Modern ethnography began in France with Marcel Griaule who, with several other
scholars, undertook field work (Mission Dakar-Djibouti in 1932, followed in 1935 by
research in Dogon country, in present day Mali). During the latter mission, Griaule’s
investigation was primarily focused on Dogon cosmogony and thought system. He
gathered numerous myths on the world’s creation and on the origins of cultural objects
including masks. His followers and younger colleagues—Germaine Dieterlen, Solange de
Ganay, Michel Leiris, Deborah Lifchitz, and Denise Paulme (who, beginning in 1960,
was to specialize in the study of African tales)—also gathered and studied oral traditions.
Leiris did remarkable work on the Dogon’s secret language used on specific occasions
and connected to various religious events (initiation, funerals, etc.). In his work, songs,
formulas, and invocations are always given in Dogon and include an in-depth analysis.
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Solange de Ganay in 1941 published more than 200 proiretoumules (“mottoes”), studying
their functions and the various circumstances of their usage. Deborah Lifchitz, who died
very young in a Nazi concentration camp, had time to publish only three topical articles,
among which was a study in 1940 that focused on the identification of Dogon oral genres.
The Post-War Period
If France’s participation in the study of African oral tradition has always been important,
her contribution constituted almost 25 percent of all the topical production from 1960
onward. The general recourse to increasingly perfected tape recorders revolutionized the
collection of texts and the technique of oral investigation; this acceleration can be
measured particularly in the field of publishing. The number of collections of
monolingual and bilingual texts increased spectacularly (see, in this regard, the
bibliographies published by Görög-Karady in 1981 and 1992). French publishing
distinguished itself by the high number of bilingual works, especially the prestigious
collection Classiques Africains (twenty-six volumes since 1963). The carefully translated
texts are usually accompanied by a substantial study as well as extensive ethnographic
and linguistic annotations. The collections Bibliothèque and Tradition Orale—created
respectively, in 1967 and 1972 by the Société d’Etudes Linguistiques et
Anthropologiques de France (SELAF) (The French Society for Linguistic and
Anthropological Study)—also contain several volumes of excellent quality bilingual
texts, as well as essays on African oral narratives. Finally, beginning in the 1970s, the
Conseil International de la Language Française (The International Council of the French
Language) also published paperback collections (Fleuve et Flamme [“River and Fire”];
Textes et Civilisations [“Texts and Civilizations”]) devoted to monolingual and bilingual
texts and to topical studies. The publishing houses Karthala and Harmattan also put out a
great number of works in that field.
The academic institutionalization of African studies in France in the 1960s also played
a role in promoting the development of studies on spoken arts. However, this
development remains limited, for there is still no Chair of African Oral Literature in
French universities. Courses and seminars, along with the defense of doctoral
dissertations, rather numerous between 1970 and 1990 in this field, always take place
within the framework of other disciplines, such as comparative literature, Francophone
literatures, ethnology, anthropology, linguistics, and African studies.
But interest in the verbal arts also intensified beginning in the 1960s as a result of the
impact made by the work of scholars of the formalist and structuralist schools (in
particular, Vladimir Propp and Claude Lévi-Strauss) on oral cultures, especially in the
field of narrative genres, that is, myths and tales. Furthermore, most of the collections of
oral texts included a majority of folk tales, while scholarly analysis tended to focus on the
narrative genres, at least in the case of African studies. In the Africanist field, the first
well-known scholars, like Denise Paulme and Geneviève Calame-Griaule, were also
mainly involved in the study of tales.
Having done field work in several African societies, Denise Paulme (1976, 7–17) tells
how she discovered that although the tales she had gathered in different groups were
often very close to each other and had a common basic structure, they differed from each
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other, sometimes quite extensively. This observation led her to a research method, which
consisted of collecting within a given geographic area—in her case, West Africa—the
greatest possible number of versions of the same tale-type. Noting the similarities and
especially the differences in the structure and elements of the story, she raised questions
regarding the departures among the versions. Could they be explained by differences in
economic, political, and familial organization or by differences in behavior models and in
the ideal values each society offered its members? The answers she arrived at varied from
case to case. Using an ethnologist’s approach (she does not consider herself a folklorist),
she set herself the task of uncovering through stories the problems social groups pose for
themselves. A second part of her work consisted of an effort at classification and
typology of the African tales, an endeavor inspired by the work of Propp and Alan
Dundes, along with the development—in collaboration with Claude Bremond—of an
index of ruses in the trickster stories.
The work of Geneviève Calame-Griaule is deeply influenced by the work of her
father, Marcel Griaule. Her special interest has been in language and in the role of the
different “words” in Dogon society, and more particularly in “literary words,” (words
about words), that is, the system of genres. In a 1970 article—a milestone in the field—
she insisted on the relevance of the study of verbal arts in an ethnolinguistic perspective
based on the intimate knowledge of the culture and the language, as well as on a global
approach to literary phenomena. At her initiative, several collective ethnolinguistic works
were produced (1977, 1987), which, among other topics, dealt with the relationships of
the producers of texts to their audience and the local classifications of the genres, as well
as the concrete social function of oral literature in African societies. She also wrote
numerous studies (gathered into a single volume in 1987) on tales and, more particularly,
on the symbolic content of the Dogon and Isawaghen tales. Her comparative analyses
also reflected the influence of structuralism and Freudian psychoanalysis.
Since the late 1960s, the study of African orality has been a permanent item on the
program of two research groups of the Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique
(CNRS) (The National Center of Scientific Research), which exist outside of the
university structure proper.
The first group, Languages and Civilizations with Oral Traditions (LACITO) has a
wide geographic specialization. Ethnolinguistic researchers from this group have
produced remarkable works. Three notable studies appeared in the same year, 1970. The
first one was the book by Jacqueline Thomas who presented in one thousand pages the
various Ngbaka oral genres (Central African Republic). The texts are given in their
original language and also in literal and literary translation. Abundant ethnobotanical,
ethnological, and linguistic comments and notes allow the reader to place the texts in
their cultural context. Other important works from the team working in Central Africa
were those by Jean Derive (1970) [?], who focused on the problems of written
transposition and translation of the oral texts. The ethnomusicologist Simha Arom (1970)
has published Ngbaka chantefables. He also gives the characteristics of the genre and
provides the musical notation of all the songs. Suzy Ruelland completed a comparative
study of nineteen Fon versions of “The Girl with No Hands” (AT706). Another scholar,
Luc Bouquiaux (1970), offers a broad sampling of the Birom narrative genres from
northern Nigeria.
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The second ethnolinguistic research group of the Centre National de la Recherche
Scientifique (CNRS) “Language and Culture in West Africa” (founded in 1970), has
operated for twenty-six years. Its exclusive focus has been on the languages and cultures
of West Africa. From the beginning, several of its members specialized in the study of
traditional literatures and created a subgroup to this end. Informed mainly by the
comparative method, their research is based on bodies of stories gathered by the members
of the group in their respective fields, thanks to their knowledge of one or several
languages of Africa. Among the founding members are Genevieve Calame-Griaule
(Dogon, Iswaghen), Veronika Görög-Karady (Bambara), Suzy Platiel (San), Christiane
Seydou (Peul or Fulani), Diana Rey-Hulman (Tyokosi). Other researchers—Ursula
Baumgardt (Peul or Fulani), Jean Derive (Jula or Dyula), Paulette Roulon-Doko
(Ngbaya), Suzy Ruelland (Tupuri) it joined the group later on. In addition, Brunhilde
Biebuyck (Mongo), Dominique Casajus (Tuareg), and Denise Paulme (Dogon) were
associates for a relatively longer period of time.
With the joining in 1995 of CNRS with the Africanist section of LACITO, a new
enlarged research group was created under the name Language, Languages and Cultures
of Black Africa (LLACAN) (Langage, Langues et Cultures d’Afrique Noire), extending
its field of operation to the whole of sub-Saharan Africa. The research group on oral
traditions is pursuing its work within this new institutional framework.
The close collaboration of these scholars, each one with his or her linguistic and
ethnological speciality, enables, under very favorable conditions, a comparative
approach, based on the exploration of the mechanisms of variability. Indeed, this type of
ethnosociological and ethnolinguistic analysis adopts the pragmatic assumption that the
body of texts forms a system and that only the systematic confrontation of the texts can
release the meanings of which the tale is the bearer. In this regard, research on the tale of
the “Enfant Terrible” (V.Görög-Karady, et al., 1980), a character defying all laws and
authority could be considered exemplary to the extent that, in each ethnic body of texts
being studied (Bambara, Dogon, Samo, Tyokossi), multiple versions and variants of the
tale were available and that, one after the other, intracultural and intercultural
comparisons could be done. Some other collective works prepared over the years include
the studies devoted to the African versions of the two tale-types “Magical Objects” (AT
563) and “Animal Allies” (AT 554) (cf. Cahiers d’Études Africaines 1972, vol 12, no.
45), widespread throughout the world, underscore the profound originality of the African
corpus. Studies gathered by Geneviève Calame-Griaule on the theme of the tree were
published in three volumes in 1969, 1970, and 1974 and are very different from each
other. Some focus on the various functions of the trees (nurturing, legal, etc.); others offer
the inventory of plants that appear in the tales; still others still deal with a plantlike motif.
More recent research on the representation of kinship relations in six ethnic corpora led to
the publication in 1992 of a book on marriage, edited by Veronika Görög-Karady. (The
English text is published in Marvels and Tales VI, 2, December 1992.)
To better coordinate French research on African oral tradition with similar
international efforts, several colloquia with British and German scholars were organized
(in France, in Germany, and in England) and two international conferences were held in
Paris in 1982 (Analyse des coules—Problemes de methods) and 1987 (La recherche du
sens). The collected papers were published in 1984 and 1989. Another work, the result of
a Franco-British symposium, which allowed the research directions of specialists of
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orality from both countries to interface, was published as Genres, Forms, Meaning
(1982).
Along with these collective activities, the members of the research group are also
involved in personal research on a vast array of subjects. On a regular basis, they publish
collections of new sets of texts they have gathered themselves. Ursula Baumgardt has
studied the repertory of a Peul (Fulani) woman storyteller along with the image of woman
and child belonging to this corpus. Dominique Casajus has published Tuareg poetry and
stories and also several studies on these genres. Jean Derive has done very original
research on the system of genres in the Jula (Dyula) society. Among other topics, he is
interested in the contribution of orality to the general theory of literature and the
problems of the written transposition of the oral literature. Veronika Görög-Karady
focuses on the analysis of the literary representation of the relations of domination within
the familial framework and in the global society among the Bamana-Malinke. She is also
interested in the functioning of stereotypes (ethnic, social, racial, and sexual) in the
various oral genres and in various cultures. She also studies the development of the
discipline of oral literature and the documentary aspects of the research. The main
interest of Suzy Platiel is in the role of the tales in linguistic training of the children in
Samo society and in the representation of the children in the stories. Diana Rey-Hulman,
who has been working since 1982 in Guadeloupe, focuses more particularly on the
dynamics of communication, along with the evolution and the changes of the status of
oral genres. Christiane Seydou has become the specialist of Peul (Fulani) orality. She has
published important collections of texts (epics, poetry, and stories) and, more
specifically, studies the African epic genres so as to draw out the constituent features. She
has also written numerous articles on the stories, the epics, and the poetry of the Fulani of
Mali.
Outside of these organized efforts, many other scholars have made considerable
contributions to the field. Among them are Pascal Boyer, who has studied the epic genres
in several cultures; Jean Cauvin, who has produced a dense work on the articulation of
the image of language and thought in the proverbs (Mali); Jacques Chevrie, who has done
much to introduce African verbal arts to a broader audience; Gerard Dumestre, a
specialist in the Bambara (Bamana) language, who has published beautiful epic texts;
Maurice Houis, who has written on the problems of the oral style; Lilyane Kestellot, who,
teaching both in Africa and in France, has published numerous epic and narrative texts
and has studied various oral genres; Suzanne Lallemand, who has done work on sexual
education in tales from all over Africa; Alain Ricard, who positions himself between the
written and the oral and writes on the new oral genres of the “concert party” and popular
theater; Pierre Smith, who has done work on various Rwandan narrative genres; and
Dominique Zahan, who is well versed in the spiritual universe of the Bambara and
published a book in 1963 on their different literary words.
VERONIKA GÖRÖG-KARADY
See also Classiques Africaines; Epics: Overview; Folktales of the Bamana; Prose
and Poetry of the Fulanji; Words and the Dogon
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FROBENIUS, LEO VIKTOR (1873–1938)
Leo Viktor Frobenius was born in Berlin, Germany, on June 29, 1873. With an
autodidactic background, Frobenius became an ethnologist and culture historian and one
of the most famous researchers on Africa during the first half of the twentieth century.
Between 1904 and 1935, he carried out twelve expeditions to various African countries to
collect ethnographic data, oral traditions, material objects, and folklore. As a theoretician,
he developed the idea of “cultural morphology,” which conceives of cultures as living
organisms, that is, they are born, and progress through “infancy,” “youth,” “adulthood,”
“old age,” and finally, “death.” They are dominated by Paideuma, a kind of cultural soul
that is considered to act more or less independently of men. Irrationalist ideas of this type
have always met with skepticism, and have been mostly discarded by modern research.
However, much of the data from Frobenius’s field research, and particularly his immense
collections of fairy tales, legends, fables, sagas, and myths, proved to be of lasting value.
In 1910, Frobenius compiled his Black Decameron, a collection of love stories and
tales of eroticism. From 1921 to 1928, he published a series of twelve volumes entitled
Atlantis: Volksmärchen und Volksdichtungen Afrikas (Atlantis: Fairy Tales and Popular
Poetry of Africa). They mainly focused on western Africa between Senegal and
Cameroon, the Kasai region of the Congo, the Maghrib, Kordofan, and areas of centralsouthern Africa such as present-day Zimbabwe and Zambia, they were partly translated
into English, French, Spanish, and Italian. In 1938, Frobenius put forth the idea of
establishing a universal folkloristic archive, which, because of his death in the same year
in Italy, and then the outbreak of World War II, could not be realized.
References
Major works of Leo Frobenius on folklore
Frobenius, Leo. 1910. Der schwarze Dekameron. Liebe, Witz und Heldentum in Innerafrika, Berlin:
Vita-Verlagshaus.
——. 1921–28. Atlantis. Volksmärchen und Volksdichtungen Afrikas. 12 vols. Jena: Eugen
Diederichs.
——. 1938. Das Archiv für Folkloristik. Paideuma 1, no. 1:1–18.
Selected works on Leo Frobenius
Braukämper, Ulrich. 1986. Frobenius, Leo. Enzyklopädie des Märchens 5, nos. 2–3:378–83. Berlin,
New York: Walter de Gruyter.
Haberland, Eike, ed. 1973. Leo Frobenius, 873–1973. An Anthology. Wiesbaden: Steiner.
Niggemeyer, Hermann. 1950. Das wissenschaftliche Schrifttum von Leo Frobenius. Paideuma
4:377–418.
ULRICH BRAUKÄMPER
African Americans
FULANI
See Epics; Prose and Poetry of the Fulani
285
African folklore
286
G
GABON (GABONESE REPUBLIC)
Located on central Africa’s west coast, Gabon is a tropical country of nearly 1,240,000
and is neighbored by Equatorial Guinea, Cameroon, and Congo. Gabon’s capital and
largest city is Libreville, which has a population of 419,000. Twenty-five percent of the
country’s population is Fang, 10 percent is Bapounon, and 65 percent is made up of
various other groups. The major languages spoken are French, Fang, Eshira, Bopounou,
Bateke, and Okande. Between 55 percent and 75 percent of the population is Christian,
while less than 1 percent are Muslim. The remaining population practices traditional
indigenous religions.
In 1888, the territory was linked to the French Congo, but in 1910 became a separate
colony and part of French Equatorial Africa. Gabon gained its independence from France
on August 17, 1960, and subsequently formed its own republic. As a result of strong
opposition to one-party rule, the country established a multiparty system with a president
in 1990 after twenty-two years under one-party rule. Gabon’s principle industries are
petroleum, lumber, and minerals such as manganese, uranium, gold, zinc, and iron ore.
Because of such rich natural resources, Gabon has one of the highest gross domestic
products per capita in Africa. Despite such apparent success, there remains a vast gap
between the statistics of wealth and actual poverty that many Gabonese live with.
Nevertheless, there is 63 percent adult literacy. The exquisite reliquary carvings of the
Fang and others in Gabon are among the most highly prized of African arts.
Gabon is known for its town of Lambarene where Albert Schweitzer set up his
mission hospital. Schweitzer, who won the Nobel Peace Prize for his efforts on behalf of
the “Brotherhood of Nations,” modeled his hospital after an African village, consisting of
numerous simple dwellings. Alhough he held a distorted image of African society as
being unable to advance in Western ways, he nevertheless saved many lives and cured
thousands at his missionary hospital.
JENNIFER JOYCE
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GAMBIA, THE (REPUBLIC OF THE
GAMBIA)
The Gambia is a subtropical country with a population of over 1 million people, which is
located in western Africa. Except for a small coastal strip, The Gambia frames the
Gambia river and is completely surrounded by Senegal. Banjul, a city of 49,200 is the
country’s capital and largest city. Nearly three-quarters of the population is rural. Fortytwo percent of the population is Mandinka, 18 percent is Fula, 16 percent is Wolof, and
24 percent is composed of various smaller groups. English, Mandinka, Wolof, Fula,
Sarakola, Dyula are the most widely spoken languages. The country is mostly Muslim
(90 percent), while 9 percent are Christian and 1 percent practice traditional indigenous
religions.
On February 18, 1965, The Gambia gained its independence from the British, who
ruled over the country through Sierra Leone since 1807. Until the country’s armed forces
overthrew the government in July of 1994, The Gambia had been West Africa’s only
postcolonial country with an uninterrupted multiparty system. The Gambia’s main
industries and sources of revenue are tourism, brewing, peanuts, fish, and woodworking
and metalworking. Unfortunately, the weak economy and political unrest of the later
twentieth century years has resulted in reduced revenue from tourism, a major industry
since independence.
Gambians share many cultural and political similarities with their Senegalese
neighbors. Both nations share Islam as the dominant religion, as well as the major
ethnolinguistic groups of Mandinka, Wolof, and Fula. The countries also share similar
economies that are heavily reliant on the cultivation of cash crops such as groundnuts.
Popular throughout West Africa are griots, hereditary Gambian bards and musicians who
have maintained their traditional musical art throughout the ages. Once related to ruling
families, Gambian griots now perform on Radio Gambia and have attained widespread
popularity.
JENNIFER JOYCE
GENDER REPRESENTATIONS IN
AFRICAN FOLKLORE
A discussion of gender representation in African folklore requires mention of
representation as a communicative activity involving the selective and purposive use of
language or images to obtain attention or consent. However, the subjects of
representations may not hesitate to contest its forms, contents, or outcomes. Such a
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discussion must remember, too, that Africa is a vast continent of more than fifty nationstates, and thousands of ethnic groups, languages, and folklore traditions. With regard to
gender specifically, the discussion also needs to take stock of women’s roles as
composers, sponsors, and audience. Despite the negative representations so often
portrayed, women have not been absent in African folklore since the eighteenth and
nineteenth centuries, when its collection and study was first undertaken by European
travelers, missionaries, linguists and administrators (see Finnegan 1970, Dorson 1972,
Klipple 1992, Okpewho 1992). Although the initial focus was on collection and analyses
of folklore texts taken out of their cultural and performance settings (see Haring 1994),
this changed from the second half of the twentieth century, when studies began
emphasizing folklore as performances in context (see Albert 1964; Finnegan 1992;
Stoeltje, Fox, and Olbrys 1997).
The growing awareness of gender in the mid-twentieth century galvanized the
emergence of women as subjects in folklore, and redirected attention to women’s
experiences. Their role in the labor process, in reproduction, in ritual, and their
representation in oral and written literatures, gradually came to be recognized as
legitimate, rather than merely as an appendage to the work and visibility of men (see
Farrer 1975, Stoeltje 1988, 141). This awareness directed scholars to the investigation of
how folklore texts encode and legitimate gender ideologies under the rubrics of tradition,
identity, culture, or custom, and to map out the intersections between gender
representations and women’s social lives. African folklore scholars have begun to
investigate the links between folklore and asymmetrical gender representations that are
often legitimized in the name of national identity or tradition. In one respect, this
association reflects the bias of Johann Gottfried Herder’s influential eighteenth-century
model of society, which integrated folklore with patriarchy and nationalism and elevated
the masculine as the authority figure, while devaluing the female as “the first failing
stone in the human edifice” (see Fox 1987, 72). Herder’s model was transmitted directly
to Africa through the Basel Missionaries in Ghana who, in their writing of history,
incorporated Herder’s concern with cultural meaning and with the relationship between
society and state (McCaskie 1986).
The bias toward the male subject was maintained throughout the twentieth century;
nevertheless, the critique of earlier scholarly discourse on African folklore, with its focus
on women’s experience, was successfully established. It is in this regard that two of Ruth
Finnegan’s (1970, 108) observations deserve critical attention. First, she argues that men
more than women were the “bearers of tradition” in many cultures of Africa. Second, she
claims that most Limba storytellers and storytelling activities were performed by men
(Finnegan 1967, 69–70). Of importance for the continued study of African folklore is the
view that men, more than women, tend to be bearers of tradition. Even if this was the
case for a specific society, it raises the questions of Why? How so? What do the women,
in fact, do? and, not the least, Are such specific cases cross-culturally applicable? Here
we stand to learn from Elizabeth Gunner’s (1979) analysis and reevaluation of the Zulu
(South Africa) izibongo praise poetry, and the concomitant and pervasive assumption that
it was mainly a male preserve or that it paid attention only to Zulu women of high status
(see Cope 1968, Dhlomo, 1947, 1948, Lestrade 1935). By showing that neither the
ordinary women nor the izibongo traditions were strangers to each other, Gunner has
debunked the patriarchal hegemony and its lenses that constructed the izibongo as a male
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preserve in the popular imaginary. Using empirical evidence, she has shown that lowerclass women have always had an active presence in the izibongo tradition at the levels of
performance, composition, repertoires, voices, and identities.
A study that illustrates women’s creations of folklore texts and outlines the contexts of
performance is Harold Scheub’s work with Nongenile Mazithathu Zenani, a female
Xhosa ntsomi or traditional storyteller (1970, 1972). Zenani’s technique and repertoires
draw the attention of even her detractors, who identify and empathize with her story line
and development, often in spite of themselves. Zenani occupies a powerful position in the
oral tradition of her culture, demonstrating that although women have encountered
restricted access to social, economic, and expressive in cultures throughout Africa, these
conditions have not stopped them from exploring alternative means of expression. Zainab
Mohamed Jama (1994) has illustrated how Somali tradition restricts women’s access to
gabay and geerar poetry genres and therefore denies them the opportunity to become
active spokespersons for their society; however, the Somali women were able to reverse
their expressive fortunes by circulating their poetry using cassette tapes and radio
broadcast, resulting in an unprecedented expansion of their audience.
The actual or potential roles of African folklore in reinforcing or subverting normative
gender ideologies have been variously noted by scholars. Florence Abena Dolphyne
(1991), for one, has noted this in an Asante (Ghana) folktale in which a man wants to
take a second wife on the claim that the first wife cannot alone do all the domestic chores
and meet his needs in time. The woman objects saying that everything seems to be going
on well between them. To prove his point, he asks her to prepare the Asante kenkey meal.
The laboriousness of the preparation left her exhausted and her hands blistered. She gives
up, begs the elders of her family to apologize on her behalf to the husband for having
been so stubborn, and to tell him that she has no further objections to his marrying a
second wife. Dolphyne argues that the telling of this kind of tale shapes the definition of
gender roles, conditioning members of a society to accept them as something natural and
inevitable.
This capacity to instruct an audience with regard to gender ideologies can be observed
in Rattray’s (1930) collection of Akan Asante folktales, and in Okot p’Bitek’s (1978, 11–
14) collection of Acholi (Uganda) folktales. Both of these examples teach that a woman
should not choose her husband, but should defer to the authorities designated by society
to choose for her. In the Akan tale, the maiden Kwaboso refuses the man chosen for her
to marry, claiming that his body crawls with ticks. When Kwaboso refuses the selected
suitor, fairies attack her while she is harvesting plantains, telling her, “You are the one
whom, when they take to give to anyone, you shake your head pusu pusu” Luckily, at
that moment the rejected suitor chances on them and brings them down with his gun, thus
saving Kwaboso who thereafter sends word that she is now ready to marry him. A similar
tale is found in one of Okot p’Bitek’s collections of Acholi folktales. A beautiful maiden
called Awili rejects all suitors in preference for the handsome Onguka, who turns out to
be an ogre. Onguka’s plans to kill and eat Awili’s flesh are foiled in the last minute,
thanks to her crippled sister who tricks the ogre into fetching water for her in a basket.
This gives them time to escape back home, where the ogre who tries to follow them is
killed.
Michael Jackson (1977) has observed the pervasive power of language in Kuranko
(Sierra Leone) social life and thought, especially the ability to make the distinction
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between male and female seem so “natural” or divinely sanctioned. Extending this
perspective to Karin Barber’s (1995) comprehensive study of Yoruba (Nigeria) oriki, we
observe how traditional poetry reinforces gender ideologies. Barber’s analysis not only
illuminates the praise poetry but points to the encoding of male and female behavior
celebrated in these poems performed by women. Daring actions by males are admired
while similar acts by women are interpreted as the overstepping of boundaries, as “going
too far.”
Peter Seitel (1980) has noted how Haya (Tanzania) tales encode worldview, categorize
the landscape along gender lines, and place men and women in their respective domains.
In a tale titled “She Killed One. We’ve All of Us Come,” a gluttonous wife prepares food
and eats from the field, alienating herself from her husband, the domestic and the human
spheres. When she kills an animal which is stealing her food, other animals team up to
avenge, overwhelming the husband and the chief to whom she runs for protection. In the
end the bees rescue her by stinging and dispersing the animals. In seeking to chastise the
woman for her gluttony, which caused her alienation from her family and the human
domain, the tale defines her responsibility to her husband and the family and locates her
in the domestic sphere, censoring any alternative perception. Seitel (1980:228) concludes
that the tale has immense potential for the regulation of female behavior.
On the contrary, however, other examples of women’s performance of folklore
interrogate or openly subvert prevalent gender ideologies. Judith T. Irvine (1992, 1996)
shows how Wolof (Senegal) co-wives perform, or, sponsor the performance of xarxar
ritual insult poetry during the wedding ceremony of an incoming co-wife, to satirize or
even to ruin her honor and that of her family. The collusive and collective composition of
xarxar poetry by the co-wives who sponsor it, and the lower-class women who perform
it, allow each group to tactfully disclaim responsibility for the poem’s insults.
Examples of women’s use of folklore forms to express their views and explore their
experiences are abundant in Lila Abu-Lughod’s (1986, 233) study of Awad
Bedouin
(Egypt) women’s folk poetry. Through their performances Awad
women make
defiant statements about their unhappiness and the difficulties that their society places on
them. They can also express sentiments of romantic love which otherwise violate their
expected traditional honor code. Rachel I. Fretz’s (1994) analysis of Chokwe (Congo,
formerly Zaire) women’s storytelling demonstrates that they express their aspirations and
explore grave matters that affect them as women, such as their inability to bear children
or conflicts with a co-wife, through narrative performance. The ambiguous tales do not
easily conform to conventional narrative patterns, and therefore Chokwe women are able
to create new perceptions of themselves and their gendered environments. Aware that
they are narrating from within male domains, they subvert this world view by recourse to
ambiguity, posing the story as a dilemma in which both the narrator and audience grapple
for answers.
In Madagascar, women’s and men’s speech forms are distinctive and even have labels.
Elinor Keenan (1974) has identified the Malagasy (Madagascar) use of resaka and
kabray speech forms by women and men, and notes how the men’s mastery of formal,
ceremonial and highly stylized kabray speech forms contrasts with women’s mastery and
use of blunt, pointed and direct resaka speech, used to handle business that calls for fast
responses. This marks women as norm-breakers and labels them as having a lavalela
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(long tongue). However, Keenan points out that the men call upon the women to express
what they feel but are reluctant to state bluntly.
Kwesi Yankah’s (1995) study of Akan oratory points to examples of institutionalized
channels and gender-specific genres through which Akan women assert their verbal
artistry such as the nsuie (dirge), and the adenkun, nnwnkoro, and mmombe songs. He
notes that these forms contrast with the apae royal panegyric, a male performance
domain. Yankah emphasizes that the relative male domination of communication
channels and modes cannot be divorced from the general restrictions and taboos that
govern speaking. For example, he points to an expression regarded as the quintessence of
traditional wisdom or eloquence: aberawa, or “the old lady.” The term identifies woman
with wisdom and has a bearing on the key role of women in Akan society insofar as the
position of aberawa, an older woman, or obaapanin, a female functionary responsible for
women, exists in the official counseling body to the chief. Equally important is the fact
that the position of chief would be meaningless without that of the ohemmaa, the queen
mother, the only one among the chief’s counselors who can reprimand him publicly. The
queen mother’s power lies in her responsibilities for settling disputes, for advising the
chief, and in her public ritual and ceremonial functions such as funerals (see Stoeltje
1994, 1997).
Oral tradition elucidates Asante queen mothers’ powers and responsibilities in a
folktale featuring the unparalleled trickster of Akan folklore, Ananse. In a volume edited
by Christiane Owusu-Sarpong (1998, 31–7) the spider Ananse lures, traps, and kills
almost all the animals in the land except Amoakua, who observes him and then lures him
into his own trap. Faced with the prospect of death at the hands of Amoakua, Ananse
makes a cry of appeal to the Crocodile queen mother; at her intercession Amoakua
grudgingly spares Ananse. Later, when Ananse tries to trick and kill none other than the
Crocodile queen mother herself, she puts him in his place by crushing him with her allpowerful tail. The significance of the tale is its focus on the centrality of the queen
mother in Akan social life. Not only does she intercede on behalf of Ananse (one of her
important functions in human society is intercession on behalf of those in trouble), but in
the act of smashing Ananse she demonstrates that no one, except perhaps the most
foolhardy like Ananse, should attempt to challenge or outwit the queen mother. The tale
illustrates that the queen mother not only possesses wisdom and administers justice, but
also that she embodies power in Akan social and political affairs (see Stoeltje 1995, 15,
21).
The representations of women in African folklore vary widely, depending on a
complex set of variables. These include gender ideologies embedded in the social and
political organization of each society, and, most importantly, whether the researcher who
collected and analyzed the oral traditions of a particular society attended to gender
differences; this involved investigating the experience and performance of women as well
as men, and taking note of whether tales and songs are performed by men or women, and
the effects of gender differences on the repertoires of individuals.
References
Abu-Lughod, Lila. 1986. Veiled Sentiments. Honor and Poetry in a Bedouin Society. Berkeley and
Los Angeles: University of California Press.
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Albert, Ethel. 1964. “Rhetoric,” “Logic,” and “Poetics” in Burundi: Culture Patterning of Speech
Behavior. The Ethnography of Communication. American Anthropologist Special Publication,
eds. John Gumperz and Dell Hymes. 66, no. 6:35–54.
Barber, Karin. 1995. Going Too Far in Okuku: Some ideas about Gender, Excess, and Political
Power. In Gender Identity in Africa, eds. Mechthild Reh and Gurdun Ludwar-Ene. Munster: Lit
Verlag.
Cope, Trevor, ed. 1968. Izibongo, Zulu Praise Poetry. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Dhlomo, H.I.E. 1947. Zulu Folk Poetry. Native Teachers Journal, 5–7.
——. 1948. Zulu Folk Poetry. Continued Native Teachers Journal 28:46–50.
Dolphyne, Florence Abena. 1991. The Emancipation of Women. Accra: Ghana Universities Press.
Dorson, Richard, M. 1972. Africa and the Folklorist. In African Folklore, ed. Richard Dorson.
Garden City, New York: Anchor Books.
Farrer, Claire. 1975. Introduction. Women and Folklore, ed. Claire Farrer. Prospect Heights:
Waveland Press.
Finnegan, Ruth. 1967. Limba Stories and Story-telling. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
——. 1970. Oral Literature in Africa. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
——. 1992. Oral Traditions and the Verbal Arts. New York: Routledge.
Fox, Jennifer. 1987. The Creator Gods: Romantic Nationalism and the Engenderment of Women in
Folklore. Journal of American Folklore 100:563–72.
Fretz, Rachel I. 1994. Through Ambiguous Tales: Women’s Voices in Chokwe Storytelling. Oral
Tradition 9, no. 1:230–50.
Gunner, Elizabeth. 1979. Songs of Innocence and Experience: Women as Composers and
Performers of Izibongo, Zulu Praise Poetry. Research in African Literatures 10, no. 2:239–67.
Haring, Lee. 1994. Introduction: the Search for Ground in African Oral Tradition. Oral Tradition 1,
no. 9:3–22.
Irvine, Judith, T. 1992. Insult and Responsibility: Verbal Abuse in a Wolof Village. In
Responsibility and Evidence in Oral Discourse, eds. Jane E.Hill and Judith T.Irvine.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
——. 1996. In Natural Histories of Discourse, eds. Michael Silverstein and Greg Urban. Chicago:
University of Chicago Press.
Jackson, Michael. 1977. The Kuranko. Dimensions of Social Reality in a West African Society.
London: Hurst.
Jama, Zainab Mohamed. 1994. Silent Voices: The Role of Somali Women’s Poetry in Social and
Political Life. Oral Tradition 9, no. 1:185–202.
Keenan, Elinor. 1974. Norm-Markers, Norm-Breakers: Uses of Speech by Men and Women in a
Malagasy Community. Explorations in the Ethnography of Speaking, ed. Richard Bauman and
Joel Sherzer. London and New York: Cambridge University Press.
Klipple, May Augusta. 1992. African Folk-tales with Foreign Analogues. New York: Garland
Press.
Lestrade, G.P. 1935. Bantu Praise Poetry. The Critic 4:1–10.
McCaskie, T.C. 1986. Komfo Anokye of Asante: Meaning, History and Philosophy in an African
Society. Journal of African History 27:315–39.
Okpewho, Isidore. 1992. African Oral Literature. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Owusu-Sarpong, Christiane, ed. 1998. Trilingual Anthology of Akan Folktales. Kumasi:
Department of Book Industry, College of Arts, University of Science and Technology.
p’Bitek, Okot. 1978. Hare and Hornbill. London: Heinemann.
Rattray, R.S. 1930. Akan-Ashanti Folk Tales. Oxford: The Clarendon Press.
Scheub, Harold. 1970. The Technique of the Expressive Images in Xhosa Ntsomi Performance.
Research in African Literatures 1, no. 2:119–40.
——. 1972. The Art of Nongenile Mazithathu Zenani, A Glaceka Ntsomi Performer. In African
Folklore, ed. Richard M.Dorson. Garden City, New York: Anchor Books.
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Seitel, Peter. 1980. See So That We May See: Performances and Interpretations of Traditional
Tales from Tanzania. Bloomington and London: Indiana University Press.
Stoeltje, Beverly J. 1988. Introduction: Feminist Perspectives. Journal of Folklore Research 25, no.
3.
——. 1995. Asante Queen Mothers: A Study in Identity of… In Gender and Identity in Africa, eds.
Meththild Reh and Gudrun Ludwar-Ene. Munster: Lit.
——. 1997. Asante Queen Mothers. Queens, Queen Mothers, Priestesses, and Power, ed. Flora
Kaplan. New York: The New York Academy of Sciences.
Stoeltje, Beverly J., Christie Fox, and Stephen Olbrys. 1999. The Self in Fieldwork. Journal of
American Folklore 112, no. 444: 158–82.
Yankah, Kwesi. 1995. Speaking for the Chief: Okyeame and the Politics of Akan Royal Oratory.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
ERNEST OKELLO OGWANG
BEVERLY J. STOELTJE
See also Queen Mothers; Women’s Folklore
GERMAN STUDY OF AFRICAN
FOLKLORE
A journal or a series of monographs specializing in African folklore does not exist in the
German-speaking countries. Materials on this topic have mostly been published in
periodicals of African linguistics, oriental studies, and ethnology (cultural anthropology),
such as Afrika und Übersee, Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft,
Zeitschrift für Ethnologic, and Paideuma, or in separate works and in chapters of books.
A lexicon for research on folktales, narratives, and oral traditions in Africa, initiated by
Wilhelm Möhlig and Herrmann Jungraithmayr was, however, completed in 1998. A
number of entries relevant to the African continent are also to be found in the
Encyklopädie des Märchens (Encyclopedia of Folktales), which is being edited in a
special program at Göttingen University. A limited number of articles on African oral
literature are published in the periodical Fabula: Zeitschrift für Erzählforschung (Fabula:
Journal of Research on Folktales).
History of Research
Materials to some extent relevant to folklore are already to be found in the works of
missionaries and travelers of the mid-nineteenth century, for example, Johann L. Krapf,
Heinrich Barth, and Gustav Nachtigal. However, a scholarly focus on African folklore
does not predate the late nineteenth century, and it can roughly be divided into three
major periods: (1) from about 1900 to the end of World War I, when Germany was a
colonial power, (2) the period to the end of World War II, and (3) the phase from the
1950s to the present. Due to the considerable number of noteworthy works on folklore
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that have appeared in print from the beginning of the twentieth century, it is beyond the
scope of an overview such as this to mention them all.
Rudolf Prietze (1904; 1914), who specialized in folktales mainly on the Hausa and the
Kanuri in modern northern Nigeria, was one of the first German Africanist folklore
scholars. (English translations of his works are currently being done by G.SeidenstickerBrikay in Maiduguri, Nigeria). The Hausa became the focus of folklore studies also for
Julius Lippert (1905) and Adam Mischlich (1929/1911). In the German colony of
Cameroon, the missionary J. Sieber documented fairy tales and fables of the Vute, while
the ethnologist Günter Tessmann focused on the folklore of the Baya and Fang. One of
the first anthologies of Swahili poetry was composed by Carl Velten during his
employment in the colonial government of German East Africa. In the same colony, the
missionary Bruno Gutmann contributed a monograph about poetry and systems of
thought of the Chagga in 1909. In 1911 (2d ed., 1921) Carl Meinhof, one of the founders
of African linguistics, published a collection of fairy tales from different parts of Africa.
Numerous contributions on folklore are implicitly to be found in the works of another
authority in the field of African languages, Diedrich Westermann. The participation of
the orientalist Enno Littmann in expeditions to Eritrea and northern Ethiopia between
1905 and 1913 provided a voluminous corpus of folklore research from this area,
particularly of the Semitic-speaking Tigray.
In 1904, Leo Frobenius departed for his first African journey to the Kasai region of the
Belgian Congo, which was followed by eleven further expeditions to various parts of the
continent until 1933. His research resulted in one of the most comprehensive collections
of African fairy tales, legends, fables, myths, and sagas, which were published in a series
of twelve volumes labeled Atlantis. Volksmärchen und Volksdichtungen Afrikas (Atlantis:
Fairy Tales and Popular Poetry of Africa) (1921–1928). These books appeared in a
special series of fairy tales from all over the world, which was produced by Eugen
Diederichs publishers and were partly translated into English, French, Spanish, and
Italian. Geographically, they mainly focused on western Africa between Senegal and
Cameroon, on the Kasai region, on the Maghrib, on Kordofan, and areas of centralsouthern Africa, such as present Zimbabwe and Zambia. Love stories and tales of
eroticism were published in the Black Decameron (1910). Shortly before his death in
1938, Frobenius announced the idea of establishing a project entitled Archiv für
Folkloristik (Archive of Folklore), which, because of the outbreak of World War II, was
not systematically implemented.
Frobenius, who had started his folkloristic collections before World War I, continued
this work until the 1930s. Adolf Jensen, one of his disciples, carried out field research in
southern Ethiopia in 1934 and 1935, and, in cooperation with his travel companion
Hellmut Wohlenberg, published a chapter on folklore in his book Im Lande des Gada
(1936). During the late 1930s, Ludwig Kohl-Larsen documented fairy tales and legends
in Tanzania. Some of his material, including his stories on giants, were, however, not
published until 1963. In western Africa, studies on folklore were carried out during the
1930s by the missionary Eugen Ludwig Rapp (with special focus in the Akan area) and
by the linguist Johannes Lukas (mainly in the region around Lake Chad). An important
compilation, entitled Schöpfung und Urzeit des Menschen im Mythus der afrikanischen
Völker (Creation and Primeval Times of Man in the Myth of African Peoples) by
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Hermann Baumann appeared in 1936. In the same year Hans Alexander Winkler’s
Ägyptische Volkskunde (Egyptian Folklore) was published.
The third period of folklore studies started with the first German ethnological
expedition to Africa after World War II, carried out by the Frobenius Institute in
Frankfurt on Main to southern Ethiopia from 1950–1952. Like another journey to these
regions, which followed in 1954–1956, it was headed by Adolf Jensen. His companions
Eike Haberland and Helmut Straube included chapters on folklore (Erzahlgut) in their
ethnological monographs on the Oromo and the Omotic-speaking peoples respectively.
The tradition of the Frobenius Institute to carry out field studies in northeastern Africa
continued, and a monograph entitled Praise and Teasing: Narrative Songs of the Hadiyya
in Southern Ethiopia, based on research of the mid-1970s, is being composed by Ulrich
Braukämper in cooperation with Tilahun Mishago. A thesaurus on the base of index files
labeled Afrikanisches Märchen- und Myth enarchiv (Archive of African Myths and Fairy
Tales), which was initiated by Hermann Baumann in Munich, was donated to the
Frobenius Institute in the early 1970s.
Ernst Dammann, a missionary and linguist, published materials on Bantu folktales,
particularly of the Swahili coast and of Southwest Africa, from the 1940s to the 1960s.
New anthologies of fairy tales were published in the Eugen Diederichs series: by Ulla
Schild on West Africa (1975) and by Andreas and Waltraud Kronenberg on Nubia
(1978). Jürgen Zwernemann, a Hamburg museum ethnologist, compiled a study on
folktales of four savanna peoples, the Moba, Kassena, Gurma und Nuna in the
borderlands of northern Togo and Ghana with Burkina Faso (1985).
Since the 1970s, the major contributions to African folklore in Germany have been
made by the Institute of Ethnology at Minister and the two institutes of African
languages, at Cologne and at Marburg/Frankfurt am Main. Starting with his first field
study among the Bulsa of northern Ghana in 1966–1967, the Minister ethnologist
Rüdiger Schott focused on the collection of folkloristic data. His monograph on this
people, which appeared in 1970, dealt with poetry and folktales as a central element of
their live patterns. These genres were also evaluated as particularly relevant source
materials for the anthropology of religion (1990). The emphasis on Erzählforschung
(research on folktales) has remained his particular interest ever since his further field
studies in Burkina Faso, and it was transferred to some of his disciples working in the
same regions of West Africa. Franz Kröger completed the collection of folklore among
the Bulsa, while Sabine Steinbrich and Sabine Dinslage carried out their field research
among the Lyela of Burkina Faso in the early 1980s. Research on folklore by these
scholars are continuously published.
As professor of African languages at Marburg and since 1985 at Frankfurt, Herrmann
Jungraithmayr wrote and initiated works on African folklore with a regional
concentration on Chadic-speaking groups in Nigeria, Cameroon and Chad (e.g., 1981).
His colleague Rudolf Leger dealt with proverbs as an educational and integrational factor
in the society of the Piya and other groups of the Nigerian Middle Belt. Although focused
on linguistic research, most German Africanists at the universities of Hamburg, Cologne,
Frankfurt, Mainz, Bayreuth, and Leipzig contribute to topics of folklore. This particularly
applies to Wilhelm Möhlig (Cologne), who initiated editions of articles on African oral
literature (e.g., 1988) with contributions by scholars worldwide, and completed a lexicon
on folklore research. Möhlig’s colleague Thomas Geider specializes in the documentation
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and scientific analysis of African folktales. In 1990, he published a study on the position
of the ogre, an outrageous giant monster in the beliefs of the Kenyan Pokomo. He then
joined an interdisciplinary project in northeastern Nigeria and started new studies on
aspects of Kanuri folklore.
Theory and Methodology
The question of whether any defining traits or trends regarding the choice of topics,
methodology, and theories can be traced in German studies of African folklore deserves
mention. Some pioneer works on the folkloristic genre in general had already been
carried out since the end of the eighteenth century in Germany by scholars such as
Johann Gottfried Herder and the brothers Jakob and Wilhelm Grimm. The
methodological break through of the Finnish School in comparative folklore (especially
Aarne 1908), mostly published in German, became remarkably popular in central Europe.
It can be assumed that these conditions stimulated the interest of professional scholars in
ethnology, philology and linguistics, as well as autodidacts among missionaries and
colonial administrators, in drawing special attention to folkloristic documentation in
Africa.
German scholars seemed to have been eager to know how, for example, Reineke, the
clever fox, looked in the African context. However, most of the early collections by
Frobenius, Meinhof, Prietze, and so on predominantly remained merely descriptive and
rarely aimed at explicit methodological considerations or the construction of
comprehensive theories. Frobenius categorization of African cultures on the base of
certain Weltbildern, such as the Aethiopic and Hamitic concepts of the world, largely
derived from folktales and myths, definitely failed to become an acceptable approach.
Regarding the works of the first two phases of German research on African folklore, only
Baumann’s book on myths of creation has remained a useful analytical compilation of the
respective phenomena.
Since the beginning of the twentieth century, German scholarship in ethnology and
folklore studies has been dominated by a historically oriented focus. Functionalist
interpretations have consequently never gained a noteworthy foothold in works on
folktales and myths. Although the founders of psychoanalysis, Sigmund Freud and Carl
Gustav Jung, established their theories in German-speaking countries, their impact on
folklore studies in general remained limited and it can hardly be traced in works on
Africa.
Early-twenty-first-century trends in the methodology and theory of German folklore
research are more influenced by contemporary English and American approaches, such as
Ruth Finnegan’s works or Stith Thompson’s “Motif-Index of Folk-Literature,” than by a
critical reflection of these historically oriented above-mentioned functionalist and
psychological works. French structuralism, mainly represented by Claude Lévi-Strauss
and Luc de Heusch, has never influenced German folklorists working on Africa. Myths,
for example, are predominantly interpreted according to the euhemeristic approach as
reflections of historical facts, however remote in the past. This means that any
mythologem, defined as a mythical narrative, a basic or recurrent theme of a myth, is
conceived as a kind of historical source that can be subjected to a rationalistic
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interpretation. Consequently, the position of structuralist researchers, who tend to classify
myths as patterns of imaginative concepts, cannot be of much relevance. Because of the
dominating use of oral traditions, folktales, and myths as historical source materials, the
anthropological school of symbolism of the 1970s did not gain an important position in
German folkloristic studies either.
In critical analysis of African folktales, the studies of Thomas Geider (1990) on the
Pokomo in Kenya and Sabine Steinbrich (1997) on the Lyela in Burkina Faso are
presently the most substantial and comprehensive in German language. Geider, a linguist,
places particular emphasis on problems of translation, aspects of linguistic analysis, and
an extended and welldocumented corpus of case studies. In Geider’s discussions about
various approaches of methodology, it is clear that he favors a view of folklore as a kind
of ethnographic method, much like those employed by Michael Jackson, Thomas
Beidelman, and Ruth Finnegan. For Steinbrich, a central goal of her analysis was to
investigate the relations and borderlines of imagination and reality in folktales. She
questions how far the folktales can be considered as a reflection of the real patterns of
life, and thus authentic sources for the ethnohistorical reconstruction of a given culture.
She refers to the epistemological problems involved and rightly advocates a thorough
awareness of all cognitive aspects in anthropological fieldwork.
References
Aarne, Antti A. 1908. Vergleichende Märchenforschungen. Helsingfors: Druckereiderfinnischen
Literaturgesellschaft.
Baumann, Hermann. 1936. Schöpfung und Urzeit des Menschen im Mythus der afrikanischen
Völker. Berlin: Reimer (2nd ed. 1965).
Braukämper, Ulrich, and Tilahun Mishago. 1999. Praise and Teasing: Narrative Songs of the
Hadiyya in Southern Ethiopia. Frankfurt on Main: Froebinius Institute.
Dammann, Ernst. 1942. Die Quellen der Swahili-Dichtung. Der Islam 26:250–68.
Frobenius, Leo. 1910. Der schwarze Dekameron. Liebe, Witz und Heldentum in Inner-Afrika.
Berlin: Vita-Verlagshaus.
——. 1921–1928. Atlantis. Volksmärchen und Volksdichtungen Afrikas. 12 vols. Jena: Eugen
Diederichs.
——. 1938. Das Archiv für Folkloristik. Paideuma 1, no. 1:1–18.
Geider, Thomas. 1990. Die Figur des Oger in der traditionellen Literatur und Lebenswelt der
Pokomo in Ost-Kenya. 2 vols. Köln: Rüdiger Köppe Verlag.
Gutmann, Bruno. 1909. Dichten und Denken der Dschagga-Neger. Beiträge zur ostafrikanischen
Volkskunde. Leipzig: Verlag der Evang. -Luth. Mission.
Jensen, Adolf, and Hellmut Wohlenberg. 1936. Im Lande des Gada. Stuttgart: Strecker und
Schröder.
Jungraithmayr, Herrmann. 1981. Märchen aus dem Tschad. Düsseldorf, Köln: Eugen Diederichs.
Kohl-Larsen, Ludwig. 1963. Das Kürbisungeheuer und die Ama’irmi Ostafrikanische
Riesengeschichten. Kassel: Erich Röth.
Kronenberg, Andreas and Waltraud. 1978. Nubische Märchen. Düsseldorf, Köln: Eugen
Diederichs.
Leger, Rudolf, (in press). The Unity between World and Reality. In Proverbs as an Educational
and Integrational Factor in Piya Society (Northern Nigeria), ed. Yusuf Fadl Hasan.
Proceedings of the 6th International Congress of African Studies, Khartoum, December 11–14,
1991. Khartoum: University Press.
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298
Lippert, Julius. 1905. Haussa-Märchen. Mitteilungen des Seminars für Orientalische Sprachen 8,
no. 33:223–50.
Littmann, Enno et al. 1913. Deutsche Aksum-Expedition (1905–1910). 4 vols. Berlin: Reimer.
Meinhof, Carl. 1921. Afrikanische Märchen (1911). Jena: Eugen Diederichs.
Mischlich, Adam. 1929. Neue Märchen aus Afrika (1911). Leipzig: R.Voigtländers.
Möhlig, Wilhelm J.G., Herrmann Jungraithmayr, and Josef F.Thiel, eds. 1988. Die Oralliteratur in
Afrika als Quelle zur Erforschung traditioneller Kulturen. Berlin: Reimer.
Möhlig, Wilhelm J.G., and Herrmann Jungraithmayr, eds. 1998. Lexikon der Erzählforschung in
Afrika. Köln: Rüdiger Köppe Verlag.
Prietze, Rudolf. 1904. Haussa-Sprichwörter und Haussa-Lieder. Kirchhain N.L.: Max Schmersow.
——. 1914. Bornulieder. Mitteilungen des Seminars für Orientalische Sprachen 17, no. 3:134–260.
Schild, Ulla. 1975. Afrikanische Märchen. Köln: Eugen Diedrichs.
Schott, Rüdiger. 1970. Aus Leben und Dichtung eines westafrikanischen Bauernvolkes. Ergebnisse
völkerkundlicher Forschungen bei den Bulsa in Nord-Ghana 1966/67. Köln, Opladen:
Westdeutscher Verlag.
——. 1990. Afrikanische-Erzählungen als religionsethnologische Quellen—dargestellt am Beispiel
der Bulsa in Nord-Ghana. Köln, Opladen: Westdeutscher Verlag.
Sieber, J. 1921. Märchen und Fabeln der Wute. Zeitschrift für Eingeborenen-Sprachen 12:53–
72:162–239.
Steinbrich, Sabine. 1982. Gazelle und Büffelkuh. Frauen in den Erzählungen der Haussa und
Fulbe. Hohenschäftlarn: Renner.
——. 1997. Imagination und Realität in westafrikanischen Erzählungen. Köln: Rüdiger Köppe
Verlag.
Velten, Carl. 1898. Märchen und Erzählungen der Suaheli. Stuttgart, Berlin: Spermann.
——. 1907. Prosa und Poesie der Swahili. Berlin: Selbstverlag.
Winkler, Hans Alexander. 1936. Ägyptische Volkskunde. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer.
Zwernemann, Jürgen. 1985. Erzählungen aus der westafrikanischen Savanne. Stuttgart: Franz
Steiner.
ULRICH BRAUKÄMPER
See also Frobenius
GESTURES IN AFRICAN ORAL
NARRATIVE
African oral narratives, such as folktales, urban myths, and personal experience stories,
often come to life through a storyteller’s vivid facial expressions, colorful reenactment,
and dynamic gestures. These aspects of performance are generally included in the study
of gesture, defined as any movement of the body that is part of the communication
process. Although scholars of African oral narrative invariably comment on the dramatic
nature of African storytelling, only a handful have studied the types and functions of
gesture, let alone gesture terminology. Yet, even these few studies on hand gestures, as
well as on bodily movement and posturing, provide valuable insight into what makes
much African storytelling so appealing to listen to, or more aptly stated, to watch.
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Hand Gestures
Hand gestures have a wide variety of functions in relation to oral communication,
particularly to storytelling. Although they are often regarded as primarily mimed versions
of spoken communication, gestures can imitate, amplify, substitute for, and even
contradict speech. These functions are categorized by scholars of gesture in various ways.
In their study of Swahili-language gestures in Kenya, Carol Eastman and Yaha Ali Omar
distinguish gestures that are verbal-dependent from those that are independent of speech
and those that are mimetic. Doreen Klassen’s study of Shona storytelling in Zimbabwe,
however, goes further in that it examines the varied ways in which gesture can be
mimetic or imitative of an oral narrative.
Eastman and Omar’s classification of gestures makes several significant distinctions.
In separating those gestures that are verbal-dependent from those that are verbalindependent, they differentiate gestures that clarify the meaning of ambiguous words
from gestures that are readily understood as a shorthand expression within a specific
social or cultural context. Consequently, a gesture may help clarify a local idiom or a
verbal expressive such as an ideophone. However, speakers may also use a commonly
understood gesture, sometimes called an emblem, in place of an expression such as
“Alright,” “yes,” “Nothing,” or even, “How should I know?” Some scholars dismiss these
gestures as agreed-upon by the culture as a whole, while others probe the significance of
using a particular gesture within a specific social situation.
Klassen, like Eastman and Omar, considers gesture to have a mimetic dimension, but
finds at least four ways in which gestures in Shona storytelling are imitative. Firstly, she
separates those gestures that reenact an action from those that diagram it. Secondly, she
examines those gestures that have an indirect relationship to whatever they are
describing. Next, she discusses those aspects of gesture that reveal the space and time
dimension of a narrative. And lastly, she reveals how gestures, and particularly bodily
movements, make transparent the form and moral dimensions of a narrative.
Body Gestures
Gestures that reenact an action make visible a narrative in various ways. At times a
narrator uses her body to portray the action of a character in a narrative, seemingly
becoming the character. Consequently, the listener sees how a large animal ambles, how
a hawk swoops down on its prey, how a thief disappears from sight, or how a tiny animal
gives a threatening pursuer a beadyeyed look. At other times, a storyteller uses part of her
body to diagram or map an object or action. Again, the listener sees an imaginary path
through the woods, the outline of a woven basket, an arm serving as a tree trunk, or the
shape of a straw protruding from a hidden drinking gourd. Rarely a storyteller offers an
anthropomorphic gesture, one that appears to give human attributes to the action of an
animal, and so the audience observes how a woman would catch flies with her hand,
although she is describing a crocodile snapping at them with his snout.
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Ambuya (Grandmother) Majuru (right)
explains the use of gesture in Shona
language storytelling to Nenite
Zhakata at her home near Sadza,
Zimbabwe. Photo © Doreen Helen
Klassen.
As an Illustration of Complex Concepts
However, gesture in storytelling is more complex than these forms of imitative and
diagrammatic behavior. Gesture often has a less obvious way of relating to its narrative
counterpart. Shona speakers, for example, may even gesture abstract concepts like silence
or darkness. In the sentence, “Kunze kusviba kuti svii,” (outside it is dark), the ideophone
for doing and the word for pitch black may be accompanied by flattened palms moving in
acircular motion at waist level and the speaker, when queried, may explain that the
darkness of the sky is like the blackness one sees at the bottom of a deep, deep pool. This
gesture, then, is metaphoric, well beyond the notion of mere imitation.
Gestures may also place a story in space in a visible, pictorial manner. As a storyteller
begins to tell a story, she may divide up the gesture space in front of her to represent
various settings, characters, and attitudes within the narrative. Home and likeable
characters, for example, are often enacted near the body. Distant places and morally
reprobate characters, on the other hand, may be restricted to a gesture space at arm’s
length from the storyteller, as well as more spatially separated from the audience.
Additionally, attitudes and emotions may be enacted in contrasting spaces. Gestures
enacted at shoulder level may express a different emotion, such as surprise, than those
enacted at waist level.
Gestures help locate the story in space and time in other ways as well. Some gestures
are deictic, that is, pointing or showing direction. Even these gestures convey the quality
of movement in a particular direction. They may illustrate not only where a character is
coming from or going to, but also the mood, the pacing, and sometimes the attitude or
intent of the individual. Moreover, the form of pointing, whether using the lip, index
finger, or full handlike the social and cultural context, also conveys the meaning of a
deictic gesture (Creider 1986, 157). Time-related gestures, known as beats and enacted as
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a chopping motion, may be used in enumerating lists or suggesting the passing of time.
Creider refers to these as “book-keeping” gestures and notes than in East African
languages, “usually the fingers of one hand are hooked over successively greater numbers
of fingers on the other hand” (1986, 158). Storytellers may appear to freeze a motion in
space, sometimes called a Butterworth, when they stumble over a word, resuming the
motion only when the verbal portion of the story appears to catch up with the gestural
aspect.
The foregoing discussion assumes that a gesture represents only the character whose
actions are being narrated at the moment, but that is not always the case. Sometimes a
gesture expresses the reaction of one character within the narrative to another character
whose action is being described at the time. For example, when a grandmother, who has
been using a motion low in the gesture-space to diagram the motion of a crocodile
rustling through sand, suddenly raises her vocal pitch and her hand, we cannot assume
that the crocodile has learned how to fly. Instead, the careful listener knows that the
rising hand expresses the surprise of an onlooker in the story at seeing a crocodile coming
toward her, perhaps at a socially inappropriate moment.
Timing of Gestures
Gestures, however, do not appear randomly in a well-told narrative. Gestures and other
bodily movements are distributed in such a way that an observer can often sense the
shape of sentences, paragraphs, and the rising action of a story simply by observing these
movements. In African women’s storytelling, as in many other cultures, gestures
generally correspond with the most emphatic point of a phrase, sentence, or even a
paragraph, though the nature of emphasis may vary from language to language (Creider
1978; 1986). And just as tone of voice and expressive language may become more
intense as a story nears its climax, so do gestures often become more frequent and more
dynamic. In fact, at times gestures replace spoken communication at the height of a
conversation or dramatically told story (Eastman 1992; Klassen 1999).
When a gesture accompanies a verbal expressive, or ideophone, it differs from a
gesture accompanying a sentence. This is not surprising as ideophones, sometimes
referred to as ideas in sound, may convey the equivalent of a whole sentence or
paragraph within a single word. Yet, the gesture will occur on the ideophone and reveal
both the quality and the length of the action. Because ideophones use sound symbolism to
express qualities such as relative speed, length of time, magnitude, and even
expectedness versus surprise, gestures accompanying them also reflect these
characteristics. For example, the Shona ideophone mhi (to swoop up) is monosyllabic and
spoken with a high pitch, so its corresponding gesture entails a single swift upward
movement enacted high in the gesture space. Creider too notes the co-occurrence of high
tone and high-gestures among the Luo of Kenya (1986, 336). Similarly, the Shona
ideophone kanganda (to walk like an important person) with its three syllables is
gestured as a repeated motion. Because ideophones are idiomatic, and are often given
relatively local interpretations, Shona grandmothers insist that gesture is essential to
communicating their explicit meaning. In addition, according to linguist Daniel Kunene,
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among Sotho speakers, gestures not only accompany or replace ideophones, they may
even lead to the coining of a new word (Kunene 1965, 37).
Bodily Posturing
It is not only hand gestures, but also bodily posturing, which is important in African
storytelling. The seasoned storyteller knows how and whether or not to sit like a
grandfather relating clan history, a grandmother retelling a folktale, or a young person
testing his friends’ gullibility with yet another contemporary legend. Bodily posturing
often cues the listener concerning the type of story being told, its believability, and the
level of artistry of the teller. However, one is seated not only physically, but also morally
in many African cultures. Among the Shona of Zimbabwe, for example, being seated is
an important metaphor for social relations. Consequently, when the Shona speak of
people being seated chechetere, or all at one level, they are saying that there is social
harmony, since no individual is seated above others.
As with the terms for being seated, those related to walking or standing also have both
cultural and moral expectations. On the one hand, there are cultural expectations of how
one walks, whether like a respected old man or a respectful young woman. On the other
hand, how one walks, is also considered to be a moral issue, so it is not surprising that
Shona speakers use numerous terms for walking which may describe the physical size,
mood, social intentions, and moral integrity of a walker. In fact, the Shona have over 250
ideophones, to describe a walker. When these ideophones, which are invariably gestured,
are used within a story, the listener sees not only a physical picture, but also a
foreshadowing of the intentions and trustworthiness of the walker. Father Michael
Hannan’s Standard Shona Dictionary includes ideophones for walking such as go go go
(wearing hobnailed boots), mhemha mhemha (slowly, with stoop, in search of lost
object), and pezhu pezhu (girl or woman in short dress).
Unlike bodily posturing, other bodily movement, such as crossing one’s legs while
telling a story, could easily be dismissed as a storyteller making herself more
comfortable, but analysis of videotaped storytelling performances suggests otherwise.
Klassen’s study of Shona women’s ngano (storysong) performance describes how
storytelling grandmothers cross and uncross their legs at the paragraph junctures within a
story. This change of body positions also corresponds with a change of scene within a
story, or with a shift of genre such as from narrating to singing. Consequently, these
movements provide the audience with insight into how the narrator sees the form and the
events of the story.
Terminology
A study of gesture, however, is not complete without an understanding of the languagespecific terminology used for gestures. Scholars like Eastman and Omar, as well as
Creider, refer to indigenous terminology, while Harold Olofson provides a detailed
description of Nigerian Hausa language about facial expressions, gaze, and hand gestures,
based on theatrical stage directions, as well as interviews. Similarly, J.H. Farquhar’s mid-
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twentieth-century study of the African hand provides insight into Zimbabwean
symbolism concerning the hand and its movements. These studies, while helpful, begin to
explore gesture in just a few of Africa’s many languages.
Gesture has traditionally been considered to be integral to effective communication in
African oral narrative. Yet, in more formal contexts, particularly those influenced by
Western education, gesture use is often more restrained. By comparison, informal
storytelling sessions, whether in rural or urban contexts, are still saturated with gestures.
However, more systematic study of gestures in African oral narrative is needed,
particularly to supplement those studies that focus essentially on gesture in greeting and
leave taking (Creider 1977). These studies should address more fully how gesture relates
to gender, age, social class, social context, and the genre performed. And, as Creider
notes, there is also a need for studies which compare how gesture use varies with the
grammatical structures of various language groups (1986). It is hoped that recent interest
in the anthropology of the body will foster further research on gesture in African
narrative.
References
Creider, Chet A. 1997. Towards a Description of East African Gestures. Sign Language Studies
14:1–20.
——. 1978. Intonation, Tone Groups and Body Motion in Luo Conversation. Anthropological
Linguistics 20:327–39
——. 1986. Interlanguage Comparisons in the Study of the Interactional Use of Gesture: Progress
and Prospects. Semiotica 62, no. 1 and 2:147–63.
Eastman, Carol M. 1992. Swahili Interjections: Blurring Language-Use/Gesture-Use Boundaries.
Journal of Pragmatics: An Interdisciplinary Monthly of Language Studies 18, no. 2 and 3:273–
87.
Eastman, Carol M., and Yahya Ali Omar. 1985. Swahili gestures: Comments (vielezi) and
exclamations (viingizi). Studies in African Linguistics 48, no. 2:321–32.
Farquhar, J.H. 1948. The African Hand. NADA: The Southern Rhodesia Native Affairs Department
Annual 25:25–8.
Klassen, Doreen Helen. 1999. “You Can’t Have Silence with Your Palms Up”: Ideophones,
Gesture, and Iconicity in Zimbabwean Shona Women’s ngano (Storysong) Performance. Ph.D.
dissertation, Indiana University.
Kunene, Daniel P. 1965. The Ideophone in Southern Sotho. Journal of African Languages 4, no.
1:19–39.
Olofson, Harold. 1974. Hausa Language about Gestures. Anthropological Linguistics 16:25–39.
DOREEN HELEN KLASSEN
See also Call-and-Response in African Narrating; Dialogic Performances;
Ideophones; Performance in Africa
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304
GHANA (REPUBLIC OF GHANA)
Located on the coast of West Africa, Ghana is a country of nearly 20 million people. The
nation, neighbored by Cote D’Ivoire, Burkina Faso, and Togo, has a climate that ranges
from tropical on the coast to semiarid in the north. Forty-four percent of Ghana’s people
are Akan, 16 percent Moshi-Dagomba, 13 percent Ewe, 8 percent Ga, and 19 percent are
of various other ethnic groups. The major languages spoken in the country are English,
Akan (including Fanti, Asante, and Twi), Ewe, Ga, and Hausa. Thirty-eight percent of the
people practice traditional indigenous religions, 30 percent are Muslim, 24 percent are
Christian, and 8 percent practice various other religions. Accra, a city of over 965,000, is
the nation’s capital.
The Ashanti Federation, centered in Kumasi, became increasingly powerful in the
nineteenth century, but after several hard fought battles was subdued by the English in
1874. Reflecting its ancient source of wealth, this English colony was known as the Gold
Coast; after independence it was renamed Ghana after the first of the ancient Western
Sudanese kingdoms. On March 6, 1957, Ghana gained its independence from Britain
after fifty-six years of colonial rule. Kwame Nkrumah not only led the country to
independence, but became an important spokesperson for all Africans as he campaigned
against European colonialism and exploitation. In the years following independence,
Ghana suffered severe economic and political decline. After several decades of military
coups and problematic civil governments, both the nation’s government and economy
steadily improved in the late twentieth century.
The country’s natural resources include gold, diamonds, bauxite, manganese, fish,
timber, and oil. Agricultural production revolves around cocoa (one of the world’s largest
producers), coconuts, coffee, subsistence crops, and rubber, while principle industries
include mining, lumber, light manufacturing, fishing, and aluminum. Ghana’s Akosombo
Dam on the Volta river was one of the first major development schemes in Africa, but
has proved ineffective in the long run. Located just outside Accra is the University of
Ghana, one of the finest universities in Africa. With women constituting 51 percent of the
labor force, Ghana has one of the highest ratios of gender parity in the workforce in the
world.
The territory now called Ghana was the site of much of the European’s West African
slave trade. Of the old slave forts, Cape Coast and Elmina have become important
historical sites and especially visitors of African ancestry from the United States visit the
forts and their historical displays. In fact, tourism has become an increasingly important
source of income.
E.T.Mensah, a Ghanaian musician, is responsible for creating the musical tradition of
Highlife. In the 1930s, Mensah’s band, The Tempos, blended the musical style of bigband jazz with indigenous musical traditions and created the popular music of Highlife,
which was quickly popularized throughout Africa and the world. The University of
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Legon’s School of the Performing Arts has also contributed to the world of music, dance,
and drama through educating students in the Ghanaian artistic tradition since 1943.
JENNIFER JOYCE
GIKUYU
See Birth and Death Rituals among the Gikuyu
GOSSIP AND RUMOR
As “discreet indiscretion” (Bergmann 1993), gossip is a moral discourse about the
behavior, social situation, and character of absent others; it is talk about someone with
someone else. Gossip is a “form of sociable interaction which depends upon the strategic
management of information through the creation of others as ‘moral characters’ in talk”
(Yerkovich 1977). As a speech act, gossip allows people the possibility to express their
community’s values and beliefs on ideal, proper, and moral behavior and also, with
considerable force and intention, to influence proper behavior without risking direct
confrontation. Thus, as scandal, gossip functions as a system that asserts collective norms
as well as creating and maintaining strong, communal bonds because the process of
gossiping creates and strengthens social ties of intimacy (see Gluckman 1963). For an
individual, knowing the latest gossip increases their status, reputation, and social standing
within a social network since they claim special access to knowledge and the privilege to
speak it. Groups and individuals can use gossip as a political strategy to advance their
own interests and also to persuade others. Therefore, as text and as a social activity, there
are three relationships at play when people gossip: between the gossips and the subject of
the gossip, between the gossips and their community; and the personal relationship
between the gossips.
Rasmussen’s (1991) study of gossip among the Tuareg of Niger points to the
important role of gossip in conflict management. Gossip allows for the expression of
familial, social, and political discord indirectly and euphemistically. For the Tuareg,
gossip articulates alternative and contradictory interpretations of social experience and
social ties. The different viewpoints expressed in gossip provides an effective discourse
between individual strategy and collective rules (Rasmussen 1991).
Like gossip, rumor allows people to speak to power indirectly and anonymously.
Rumor is an expression of belief that arises in ambiguous situations where there is little
or no reliable information on events that are important to a community. Sociologist
Tamotsu Shibutani (1966, 32) argues that rumors are “the cooperative improvisation of
interpretations.” He further proposes that rumor is “a recurrent form of communication
though which [people] caught together in an ambiguous situation attempt to construct a
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meaningful interpretation of it by pooling their intellectual resources.” This definition
highlights several key factors. First, rumor is recurrent and when rumors are told and
retold, people make alterations—they embellish, exaggerate, or distort. Second, rumor is
not a product of individual creation which then spreads; it is a collaborative process
without a defined author. And third, the fewer the facts or reliable or trustworthy
information available, the greater the role of the group’s unconscious, fears, and anxieties
in their interpretation of events.
This process of oral transmission allows for elements from myth, folklore, oral history,
witchcraft, sorcery, and worldview to become part of the rumor text. For example, the
work of Peter Geschiere (1997) in Cameroon suggests that rumors of the occult are often
intertwined with local and national politics. Rumors of witchcraft and sorcery often
signal political and economic change or turmoil and are often attempts of people to gain
control over the disruption such changes bring. When people’s insecurities and
apprehension over local and national politics grow, so do rumors claiming that politicians
use sorcery and witchcraft to accumulate power and wealth. Geschiere argues that there is
a thin line between discourses of power and discourses of the occult.
In another example, Luise White (2000) documents rumors of bloodsuckers in
colonial East and Central Africa. These persistent and powerful rumors talk of colonial
employees (firemen, police, surveyors, game wardens) who captured Africans, killed
them and took their blood. In colonial Tanzania, rumors described how government
agents seized people, hung them upside down, and drained their blood. Similarly,
Kampala police were accused of kidnapping residents and throwing them into pits until
their blood was drained. And in Nairobi and Mombasa, members of fire brigades were
rumored to capture Africans and draw their blood. These “vampire men” used Western
technology and tools, including automobiles, fire stations, black overalls, buckets, and
syringes, to accomplish their nefarious deeds. White argues that these rumors represent
symbolically the conflicts and problems that are associated with the new economic order
imposed by colonial administrations. No other idea could articulate the magnitude of the
conflict and complications that such changes brought to personal definitions of work and
of the self.
Brad Weiss’ ethnography of the Haya of Tanzania shows that rumors of blood-stealing
and selling continue in contemporary East Africa. The Haya use these rumors to explain
rapid accumulation of wealth; for example, when a member of the community builds a
new house, it is rumored that he acquired the money by selling stolen blood. These
rumors suggest that the pursuit of wealth and power is always socially problematic.
Furthermore, these rumors express “connections between bodies and commodities,
semantic value and economic transactions, rural livelihoods and urban travels, as well as
local ‘experience’ and global ‘events’” (Weiss 1996, 219). However, the presence of
fantastical creatures and situations, such as blood-sucking vampires or genital-stealing
sorcerers in Nigeria, should not obscure the fact that rumors are shaped by the real, lived
experiences of people caught in social, political, and economic events that are often
beyond their control. Rumor is one tactic people use to try to gain some sense of control
over these events.
In Africa, news, rumor, and gossip circulate through unofficial oral channels of
communication that have been labeled radio trottoir or “pavement radio” (Ellis 1989):
the modern, urban version of the “bush telegraph.” Stephen Ellis defines pavement radio
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as “the popular and unofficial discussion of current affairs in Africa, particularly in
towns…. [it] thrives on scandal in the sense of malicious news, and rarely has anything
good to say about any prominent persons or politician” (1989, 321–22). Pavement radio
also reports alternative news to the often censored, ignored, and uninformative national
television, print, and radio media. According to Ellis (1989), pavement radio operates in
an oral culture where the spoken word carries equal, if not more, weight than the written
word. Pavement radio is a democratic media—it is anonymous and it carries information
only as long the people find the content interesting and relevant. Therefore, over time and
space, pavement radio helps to form a popular consciousness. Spreading malicious gossip
and rumors about unscrupulous politicians through pavement radio, Ellis suggests is a
tactic of self-defense for the poor and the powerless because it helps people to contain the
behavior of politicians who are often unconstrained by law.
The study of gossip and rumor is essential to an understanding of the intimate lives,
fears, experiences, and concerns of Africans trying to make sense of their world.
References
Bergmann, Jorg. 1993. Discreet Indiscretions: The Social Organization of Gossip. New York:
Aldine.
Ellis, Stephen. 1989. Tuning in to Pavement Radio. African Affairs 88:321–30.
Geschiere, Peter. 1997. The Modernity of Witchcraft: Politics and the Occult in Postcolonial
Africa. Charlottesville and London: University of Virginia Press.
Gluckman, Max. 1963. Gossip and Scandal. Current Anthropology 4, no. 3:307–16.
Rasmussen, Susan J. 1991. Modes of Persuasion: Gossip, Song, and Divination in Tuareg Conflict
Resolution. Anthropological Quarterly 64, no. 1:30–47.
Shibutani, Tamotsu. 1966. Improvised News: A Sociological Study of Rumor. Indianapolis, Ind:
Bobbs-Merrill.
Weiss, Brad. 1996. The Making and Unmaking of the Haya Lived World. Durham and London:
Duke University Press.
White, Luise. 2000. Speaking with Vampires: Rumor and History in Colonial Africa. Berkeley and
London: University of California Press.
Yerkovich, Sally. 1977. Gossiping as a Way of Speaking. Journal of Communication 27:192–96.
DAVID A. SAMPER
See also Insults and Ribald Language, Personal Narratives
GOURDS: THEIR USES AND
DECORATION
The hollowed-out gourd is used as a container throughout sub-Saharan Africa. As the
fruit of one of the continent’s earliest cultivated plants, the gourd or calabash, as it is
commonly if imprecisely called, has long been exploited and selectively adapted by both
nomadic and sedentary peoples. It should be noted that gourd is the botanically correct
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term for the fruit of the flowering plant (Lagenaria siceraria) widely cultivated in Africa.
Calabash, on the other hand, is the proper name for the fruit of a tropical American tree
(Crescentia cujete). Because the latter is recognized in common usage, it will still be used
interchangeably with gourd.
The remarkable number of shapes and sizes in which it grows has made it suitable for
a host of purposes ranging from the obvious to the ingenious. Simply opened and
cleaned, gourds are used for storage or for serving food and drink. In combination with
other materials, they become musical instruments, smoking pipes, fishing floats, or ritual
regalia. The gourd’s high versatility is essentially due to its inherent properties: it is light,
durable, portable, tractable, and watertight. The medium also lends itself to a rich and
varied array of decorative enhancements—ranging from surface dyes and patinas and
complex patterns of incised or burned designs to the addition of elements as basic as fiber
or as precious as beads and cowries.
Decoration
The most elaborate traditions of gourd decoration are confined to particular areas of the
African continent. Of them, northeastern Nigeria can be singled out as a zone of
outstanding achievement, diversity, and inventiveness. Some peoples of this region who
decorate calabash containers, such as the Fulani, Kanuri, and Hausa, are well known.
Other groups are less familiar, yet their work has received some attention in the
literature—the Ga’anda, Tera, and Yungur, among others (see Berns 1985, 1986). In this
region, gourds, both decorated and undecorated, are the focus of a remarkable range of
domestic, social, and ritual activities.
Gourds, along with other major food crops, are usually cultivated on farms during the
rainy season or they may be planted directly within the compound where they are
encouraged to trail over fences and the thatched roofs of houses. The gourd plant, a
climbing annual with very rapid growth, ripens its fruit between four and six months after
planting.
Gourds are grown in four basic shapes in northeastern Nigeria and elsewhere:
globular, flattened-globular, tubular, and bottle shaped. Within these categories, gourds
of many sizes and contours have been developed, and their degree of diversification is a
credit to the skills of the African cultivator. The Hausa, for example, cultivate at least
four spherical gourds of varying diameters—the smallest ones are made into ink wells
(kurtun tawada) while the largest ones (gora) are fitted with handles and used as fishing
floats. Contours reflect similar botanical adaptations, particularly in bottle gourds, whose
profiles vary considerably.
Usually picked when they reach full maturity, gourds may be harvested when unripe if
a particular size or shape is desired. The spongy, fibrous contents are first removed either
by leaving the gourd in the sun until the pulp dries and shrivels or by soaking the fruit in
water until the pith rots. It is then cut open, depitted, and scraped clean. Where the gourd
is opened determines the shape of the resulting container and the ways it can be used. The
shell is left to dry until it has thoroughly hardened, which may take from one to two
months. Then it is ready for decoration or for use.
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Waja women using gourd bonnets to
shield their babies from the sun when
going to a well to fetch water, Talasse,
February 1982.
Photo © Marla C.Berns.
Regardless of shape, all gourds are amenable to decoration, having a hard yellow shell
a few millimeters thick, protected by a green outer skin usually removed before
decoration and a softer white underlayer that varies in thickness. The contrasting color
and porosity of the gourd surface have influenced the evolution of its decoration. The
options for artistic embellishment are many. Beyond the imposition of design and pattern,
the gourd lends itself well to changes in color, texture, and relief. Even if no
ornamentation is applied, the surface changes with time.
As is true over most of Africa, northeastern Nigerian peoples decorate gourds in six
different ways: pyro-engraving, pressureengraving, carving (scraping), painting, dyeing,
and addition of decorative materials. Within the advantages and limitations of particular
processes, a remarkably wide range of variations has developed. It should also be
understood that choices made by individual groups are based on more than just aesthetic
criteria. Choices of technique and design have been conditioned by various
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sociohistorical realities. Although gourd decoration is primarily a woman’s occupation,
men also do this work, as is true among the Hausa.
Yungur men playing dimkedims during
Wora, Dirma, November
1981. Photo © Marla C.Berns.
Pyro-engraving, which involves burning lines into the surface of the gourd with a hot
metal blade, is the most widely used and versatile technique. In pressure-engraving, the
second most common, a sharp point is dragged across the gourd surface with
considerable force. Because so little surface material is removed, the engraved design is
filled with a blackening agent to allow it to stand out crisply against the unmarked
ground.
Although carving and painting are less frequently used, a large variety of decorative
materials can be added to the surface of the gourd, like leather, beads, basketry, or plaited
raffia. Prestigious materials like glass beads (especially in the Cameroon grasslands),
cowrie shells, and metal wire (including brass, copper, and steel, especially in South
Africa) are also applied.
Utility
Gourd containers are essential items of household equipment. Although they are used
primarily by women as utensils and receptacles for food and drink, men also own bottle
gourds carried as canteens. Moslem men carry gourd flasks for religious ablutions.
Although not seen often in northern Nigeria, smoking pipes made from bottle-shaped
gourds are popular across the continent, particularly in the eastern and central regions.
The gourd’s many domestic uses, and the care with which the gourd is decorated,
enhance its ability to communicate about social as well as economic values. Among
many groups in northeastern Nigeria, collections of decorated gourds are an essential part
of bridewealth payments or dowries. Marriage customs often dictate that a bride take to
her new husband as many as (and often more than) a hundred decorated gourd containers,
ranging in size from large bowls to small cups.
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The importance of a woman’s gourd collection in establishing social and economic
status is nowhere clearer than among the pastoral Fulani. A young girl sets up an
independent household and gains full marital status two or two and a half years after the
birth of her first child. Her formal entry into her husband’s homestead is marked by two
complementary ceremonies, both called bangtal, that publicly establish the economic
positions of each partner. At the first, the man is given a herd, symbol of his economic
independence. At the second, the girl is raised to the status of wife and mother through
the formal presentation of household items as gifts, including gourds, mats, cloth, and a
bed, which are then exhibited. The large number of milk gourds in her dowry mark a
woman’s right to milk her husband’s herds. Whenever a new camp is made in the
transhumant cycle, the Fulani wife displays her gourd collection; the size of her gourd
collection increases with each addition to her household. It is clear that among the
pastoral Fulani a woman’s prestige is intimately tied to her reproductive powers, that is,
her ability to add to the workforce.
The visual and symbolic associations of women with gourd containers also extend to
festival contexts. Many groups in this region organize elaborate communal gatherings to
celebrate life cycle transitions. As already noted, a new bride’s collection of gourds is
often exhibited once she makes the final transition to the status of married woman.
Additionally, young women who participate in marriage festivities often carry a
decorated gourd in one hand as a part of the costume that distinguishes the occasion.
The significance of women as food preparers is probably pivotal to the gourd
decoration complex, and it may be that the ornamented container, which presents the end
product of this effort, is a meaningful emblem of this role. Men depend on women for
their meals and for the beer that households must contribute to various social and
ceremonial activities. Communal beer drinking is another context, ranging from the
purely social to the highly sacred, where gourd containers figure prominently. In most
areas, beer made from guinea corn or millet is always imbibed in a plain or a decorated
calabash bowl, often sealed on the inside with a red or black pigment. Like palm wine in
southern Nigeria, beer is an important social lubricant, and has also long served as a
crucial nutritional supplement.
Although decorated gourds usually appear in secular contexts where beer is consumed,
there is a strong prohibition against their use during ritual activities or sacrificial
libations, when sharing beer is a primary means of cementing ties with powerful spirit
forces. This may be because the exclusion of women from such sacred contexts is
extended to the objects made by their hands and with which they are so intimately
associated. In fact, among the Ga’anda of northeast Nigeria, the same proscription applies
to the food bowls used regularly by ritual priests: they may never eat from the decorated
containers a wife typically uses for serving her husband’s meals.
There is another context in which gourds play a crucial ancillary role: divination. A
number of groups in the region use calabash bowls as divining instruments. Among the
Yungur, the diviner (sife) uses a plain gourd sealed with red ochre for holding water (into
which various activating ingredients have been introduced) as a means of calling forth
spirits. Essentially the sife asks a series of yes or no questions that are answered by the
position of a small gazelle horn dropped into the water. A vertical position is affirmative,
and a horizontal position is negative.
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The use of gourds in divination may relate to the symbolic meanings that have been
associated with these containers. For example, among the Yungur, a plain gourd “has the
power to restore the status quo whenever the social situation has been, or is about to be,
dangerously disturbed” (Chappel 1977, 18). Illness or accusations of “witchcraft”
certainly represent such disturbances and thus make gourds appropriate symbolic as well
as instrumental components of divination. Yungur informants claim that two disputing
villages could arrange a truce if a “white” (i.e., plain) gourd was overturned at the
crossroads between them. Placing a gourd between two disputants “cools” them so that
their anger will be dispelled.
Not surprisingly, gourds are prominent vehicles for symbolic verbal expression. The
Hausa identify the universe as a spherical gourd, its halves representing the sky and the
earth, and the rims, where they join being the horizon. The Fulani compare a gourd filled
with smaller gourds to “the sky filled with stars” or even “Allah and the stars” (Chappel
1977, 22). In addition to these cosmological analogies, gourds commonly figure in
proverbs and riddles. Some Hausa examples include “A rarrabe da d’an duma da d’an
kabewa” (One will distinguish between the bitter gourd and the sweet), that is, “We shall
be able to distinguish between true men and false” (C. E.J. Whitting 1940, 12); “Kowace
k’warya tan da murfinsa” (Every gourd has its lid [matching half]) or “Everyone has the
chance to decide what suits him and what does not”; “K’warya ta bi k’warya, in ta bi
akushi, sai ta fashe” (A gourd follows a gourd; if it follows a wooden food bowl, then it
will break) or “Don’t tackle what is beyond you” (R.C.Abraham 1962, 593–94). For the
Hausa, spicing one’s speech with aphorisms, parables, and idioms, classified together as
proverbs (karin magana), is a popular way to project mastery of language (Skinner 1968,
79).
Gourds, both decorated and undecorated, figure in various public festival contexts not
only as ornaments and symbolic attributes but also as musical instruments. During sacred
or ceremonial events, gourd instruments can create distinctive tonal voices that link the
community to the forces regulating its survival. A striking example is the large drum
(dimkedim) played during the Wora funeral celebration held by the Yungur. Two large
globular gourds, joined together with rope covered in dung, create a lower resonating
chamber and are attached to a hollow wooden cylinder that is fitted with a head of
antelope (duiker) skin. Only at such funerals are three of these spectacular drums played
together by male members of one royal lineage.
The preceding examples emphasize the importance of gourd instruments in specific
ritual contexts, where their ownership and performance are often the exclusive
prerogative of special families. Calabashes also are used to make a variety of instruments
played by professional musicians in northern Nigeria, as well as across the continent. The
gourd has long been adapted to this purpose because of its versatility as a resonating
chamber that can be struck, blown into, or scraped. The Hausa, who consider
musicianship a traditional craft, make a great variety of instruments from calabashes of
different shapes and sizes. For example, hemispherical bowls can be overturned and
struck with the fingers (with or without rings thereon) or with sticks; bottle gourds can be
filled with stones and used as rattles; globular gourds, which are 30 to 70 centimeters in
diameter, are made into kettle drums; and five varieties of spike-bowl lutes, with one or
two strings plucked or played with a bow, are made with calabash sound boxes over
which skin has been stretched. Perhaps the most famous gourd instrument is the Kora, a
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fretless harp-lute instrument played mostly by Mande-speaking peoples of West Africa
(in Gambia, Mali, and Guinea). The sound box is a large hemispherical gourd and
twenty-one strings are attached to a long wooden neck.
The wide range of uses to which gourds have been put help explain why the gourd has
become the object of such intense artistic elaboration, both in northeastern Nigeria and
virtually across the continent. The time and labor invested in its decoration enhance the
economic and social implications of its cultivation and use. Because their appearance is
enhanced, decorated gourds also may be regarded as better to use. Moreover, it may be
because they satisfy an essential material need that their decoration is socially valued.
The ability to decorate them well gives women, and some men, a special avenue for
achieving recognition and prestige.
References
Ames, D.W., and A.V.King. 1971. Glossary of Hausa Music and Its Social Contexts. Evanston:
Northwestern University Press.
Beckwith, C., and M.van Offelen. 1983. Nomads of Niger. New York: Abrams.
Berns, M.C. 1985. Decorated Gourds of Northeastern Nigeria. African Arts 19, no. 1:28–45.
Berns, M., and B.Rubin Hudson. 1986. The Essential Gourd: Art and History in Northeastern
Nigeria. Museum of Cultural History, Los Angeles.
Chappel, T.J.H. 1977. Decorated Gourds in Northeastern Nigeria. London: Ethnographica.
Rubin, B. 1970. Calabash Decoration in North East State, Nigeria. African Arts 4, no. 1:20–5.
Sieber, R. 1980. African Furniture and Household Objects. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
MARLA C.BERNS
See also Ceramics; Musical Instruments: Focus on Nambia; West Africa:
Overview
GOVERNMENT POLICIES TOWARD
FOLKLORE
Official government attitudes toward folklore in Africa have been complex and often
contradictory. African state officials and intellectuals have discussed and argued the
meanings of terms like authenticity, tradition, progress, folklore, and culture from the
moment of their respective nation’s independence. In order to understand African states’
policies toward folklore and culture, it must be remembered that such policies have
almost always been linked to larger political goals.
In many African states, the term folklore immediately signals a particular
understanding of the relation between history and culture. In this idealized model,
African history is split into three stages. The first is a precolonial period, during which
African peoples practiced their religions, livelihoods, musics, and arts autonomously. The
second is the colonial period, culminating with the political domination of the continent
from the late nineteenth century through the second half of the twentieth century. During
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this period, African culture is presented as being in decline, suppressed by colonial
regimes that also lured urbanized and European-educated African elites with a tainted and
inauthentic (European) set of aesthetic ideals in music, theater, and art. In the third and
final stage, independent African nations needed to organize folkloric and cultural policies
to recuperate the vitality of precolonial artistic expression that could aid in the process of
economic and cultural development. There are a number of paradoxes implicit in this
paradigm that become clearer through examination of some examples.
The Republic of Guinea gained independence from France in October of 1958, while
France’s other West African colonies chose to remain affiliated with the European nation.
Embarking on an ambitious program of pan-Africanist Marxism, Guinea rejected any
kind of economic, military, or cultural aid that had political strings attached. In this way
Guinea distanced itself from communist and capitalist countries, while promoting a
policy of economic, cultural, and psychological self-sufficiency. A great part of this
policy relied on the support of two resources: the “inexhaustible” strength of “authentic”
African tradition, and the equally infinite enthusiasm and energy of Guinean youth. This,
however, presented a contradiction because all the ethnicities that populated Guinea gave
great power and privilege to elders. This was true in precolonial- as well as colonial-era
social organizations.
The government responded to this paradox by effectively siding with the younger
generation, but rhetorically honoring the ideal of tradition. Thus traditional culture was
forcibly stripped of the secrecy and exclusivity that conferred power upon the elders who
controlled it, but was simultaneously turned into popular folklore. During the 1959–1962
“Demystification Program,” soldiers and ethnologists moved from village to village,
especially in the coastal and southeastern forest regions of the country. Finding
progressive (usually young and Western educated) people to help them, they uncovered
each village’s cache of ritual objects, including masks and carved figures. They exposed
them to noninitiates (which was supposed to bring infertility, death, and other disasters
down on the community), and often burned the objects in a bonfire in the center of the
village. Their goal was to show that life would go on, and thus “demystify” these groups
of supposedly backward and superstitious people, and throw them into the progressive,
socialist new order.
Ironically, the cultural experts who accompanied the soldiers and bureaucrats had
another goal. They saved the most accomplished and well-made masks and brought them
to the National Museum for display. They announced to villages that their “superstitious”
religious practices were now prohibited, but asked them to perform religious dances and
music in the village one last time so that the best performers could be recruited into the
national ballet (Les Ballets Africains) or orchestra. Soon people found numerous aspects
of their “traditional” life—many of which had been of little interest to the colonial
regime—simultaneously outlawed and represented to them as folklore.
Another aspect of the uses of folklore was epitomized by Mobutu Sese Seko’s regime
in 1970s Zaire. Here, the emphasis was on authenticity. In the early 1970s, as Mobutu
changed the names of the country, the cities, the streets, and even the citizens from
inauthentic European to authentically African ones, he also supported the development of
“spectacles d’animation politique” (political mobilization spectacles) throughout the
country. Although his government was receiving billions of dollars from European and
American governments to stand as an anticommunist bulwark against such socialist
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neighbors as Angola, Tanzania, and Zambia, Mobutu borrowed the revolutionary and
anti-imperialist rhetoric of socialist nations, using large-scale cultural manifestations to
raise popular morale and consciousness. As in Guinea, the message transmitted was
ambiguous. Clearly, state support of popular theater, dance, and music worked to
counteract the effects of the denigrating and condescending attitude that had been
expressed toward many of these genres by colonial governments and officials. It was
clear, however, to most people that these folkloric manifestations had a “bread and
circus” aspect temporarily distracting the populace from political and economic problems
that Mobutu’s government was doing little to solve.
A further aspect of such state-sponsored folkloric culture is the phenomenon of the
invention of tradition. A case in point is Mobutu’s “authenticity” period costume. A
European-style hat made of leopard skin (a traditional symbol of chiefly power
throughout much of Africa) and a wooden cane (typical of airport tourist art, but again
referring to the staffs indicating chiefly or ritual power common to much of Central
Africa) became the key symbols of Mobutu’s traditionlike claim to sovereignty. Some
have characterized such folkloric regalia and performances as Afrokitsch, while others
have embraced them because of their reference to a glorious precolonial African past. In
either case, the judgments, like various African states’ choices to support these forms of
culture, have been more often based on political than aesthetic considerations.
References:
Botombele, Bokonaa Ekanua. 1975. Politique culturellel en Republique du Zaire. Paris: UNESCO.
Cosentino, Donald, 1991. Afrokitsch. In Africa Explores: 20th Century African Art, ed. Susan
Vogel. New York: Prestel.
Duvignaud, Jean. 1976. Festivals: A Sociological Approach. Culture. 3, no. 1:13–25.
Kapalanga, Gazungil Sang’Amin. 1989. Les spectacles d’animation politique en Republique du
Zaire. Louvain: édition des Cahiers théatre Louvain.
Ministry of Culture, People’s Revolutionary Republic of Guinea. 1979. Cultural Policies. Paris:
UNESCO.
Morrisseau, Leroy. 1964. Le theatre dans la revolution africaine, Presence Africaine 52.
MICHAEL MCGOVERN
See also Tourism and Tourist Arts
GREETINGS: A CASE STUDY FROM
THE KEREBE
The Abakerebe live on a small island called Bukerebe in Lake Victoria, not far from the
northern Tanzanian town of Mwanza. The Kerebe are basically agriculturalists and
fishermen. Their staple foods are cassava meal, sweet potatoes, and bananas; their cash
crops are cotton and rice. The island is very fertile and many kinds of fruits grow on it,
such as oranges, bananas, pineapples, mangoes and papayas. Every homestead has at
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least ten to fifteen orange trees. The harvesting season gives some people a considerable
and dependable income. The fishing industry has also made a number of people
reasonably rich from sales of Nile perch and dagaa. The island is the breadbasket of
Mwanza town. Small as it is, the island has nevertheless produced a significant
percentage of Tanzania’s intellectuals and literary artists. The Kerebe are also well
known for their traditions, especially in the area of dances, oral traditions and epic
narrations.
The inhabitants of this island and other islands surrounding it have a complex system
of formal greetings which is a bit perplexing to those who do not speak the language.
Like in other Bantu-speaking people, greetings among the Kerebe define kinship and
good neighborliness. They also delineate character and draw lines of relationships.
Greetings are a manifestation of humanness and respect for other people, friends, and
strangers. To visit and to greet are words represented by the same word, kubwacha. A
visit (greeting) shows how much a relative values a relationship and the way he or she
wants it to continue. It is the highest manifestation of love and solidarity amid fears of
life and the struggle for survival.
Greetings as a Definition of Being
Greeting among the Kerebe is greatly phenomenological—this is perhaps what is unique
and interesting about it. The whole formality of greeting places emphasis on being. A
greeting is an existential affirmation of being in time. It is an assurance that one still has
another day to live or at least a minute. A greeting is therefore always a plodding into the
nuances of the temporality of being. The Kerebe form of greeting also reveals that their
concept of life is child centered; a phenomenon that presupposes that the horizon of the
future is what defines the present. Greetings among the Kerebe take four variables into
consideration: time, gender, age and relationship. All four variables must be considered
before a greeting is uttered. To the Kerebe it comes naturally, though contemplation may
take place a few meters before meeting the approaching person.
The general word for the infinitive to greet is kubwacha; but when the variables of
time and age are considered, other verbs in causative form come into the picture. The
verb “to greet” can therefore be defined as follows:
Kubwachaa: This word is used as to greet from 5 A.M. to 6 P.M. It means
to see someone after darkness has evaporated. It can be used without
considering the variable of age. As a general word it can also cross the
boundaries of time.
Kulyaguzy: The word is used as to greet from 6 P.M. to 5 A.M. It
means to see someone after sunset. It can also be used without considering
age, but only during the time specified above. The two verbs above are
derived from other verbs: kucha (to appear), which means “the appearance
of light and the end of the night” (obwire) or darkness, and kugwa, which
means “to fall.”
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Kusuzya: The word means to great someone of equal age (within one
year). It is derived from another verb, kusula, which means “to see
someone,” usually with a purpose of determining the person’s health.
Kulolosya: This word means “to greet someone who is younger by at
least two years”—a period which seems to have been the normal spacing
time between births among the Kerebe. The word is derived from the verb
kulola, which means “to see,” usually “to see first;” but in this case there
is an element of keeping watch over someone or something. The word
implies that the older person was told by parents to watch over the
younger regardless of gender because the older saw the world first.
Kuchatatya: This means to great someone who is very young, usually a
person who, age-wise, one could have fathered, regardless of gender. The
word is a combination of two words: Kucha (verb) and tata (noun). The
word tata means “father,” but due to the belief that the “child is the father
of man” (Soyinka 1976; Tempels, 1956) the word tata also means “son.”
Kulamya: This is a special verb which is only used as to greet with
reference to a chief (omukama). Kulamya means “to greet a chief.” The
word is derived from the verb Kulama! which means “to live long.
Kulamya therefore means to wish a chief long life.
In Chart 1 are simplified charts of greetings according to age, time and gender. The charts
given show greetings between man and man, woman and woman, and between man and
woman, depending on who starts the greeting formality.
The response “Lelota” comes from the verb lala (to sleep). The greeting “Lelota” is a
short form of “Olele ota,” which means “How have you slept?” The response,
“Shibilota!” is derived from the verb kusiba, meaning “to spend the afternoon.” It also
means “to fast.” A person can also say “Sibilota!” a short form of “Osibile ota,” which
translates “How have you spent the afternoon?” The word lyagwasugu means “Yes, the
sun has fallen (set).” The word sugu is a polite word for “yes” with the connotation of
“yes, your honor.” The word kampile is an initial word prefixed before giving thanks. It
comes from the verb kuha (to give). It is possibly a short form of “akompele” which
means “that which you have given to me!” Kampile is also a word which connotes high
respect. “Bwachatata” means “it (the sun) has risen, my son.”
Chart 1: Man to man
Time
Relative to Your Age
Your Greeting
His Response
5 A.M.–Noon
Older
Sula
Lelota
5 A.M.–Noon
Same Age
Sula
Sula
5 A.M.–Noon
Much younger
Kampilebwachasugu
Bwachatata
Noon–5 A.M.
Older
Lyagwasugu
Sibilota
Noon–5 A.M.
Same Age
Lyagwasugu
Lyagwasugu
Noon–5 A.M.
Much younger
Kapile-Lyagwasugu
Lyagwatata
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Chart 2: Woman to Woman
Time
Relative to Your Age
Your Greeting
Her Response
5 A.M.–Noon Older
Suula
Lelota
5 A.M.–Noon Same Age
Suula
Suula
5 A.M.–Noon Much Younger
Suula or Bwachaasugu
Suula or Bwachaamawe
Noon–5 A.M. Older
Lyagwasugu
Sibilota
Noon–5 A.M. Same Age
Lyagwasugu
Lyagwasugu
Noon–5 A.M. Much Younger
Lyagwasugu or Bwachaasugu Sibilota or Bwachaamawe
“Lyagwatata” means “it has fallen (set), my son.” The word sula is a short form of
the greeting “Nkusula,” which means “I am visiting you to know your health,” the
connotation being “how is your health?” It must be emphasized at this point that although
some people use the long form to retrieve the original meaning, the words have become
formulaic and serve as greetings. In this respect if a person says “Sula!”, he means “I am
greeting you as a younger person in the morning,” and if he says “Sibilota” he means “I
am greeting you as an elder person in the morning.”
Some people prefer to use the evening greeting from 4 P.M., others start using it
around 6 P.M. when the sun is actually beginning to set. The morning greeting usually
begins after the second cockcrow which in Bukerebe Island is around 4 A.M. Normally
the younger one starts the greeting formality.
The greeting “Bwachaasugu” and its response “Bwachaamawe” is a modern
phenomenon (Chart 2). Traditionally, only the queen mother could greet other women
with “Bwachaamawe,” which is a man’s greeting to a woman. Today it has become a
general greeting to women who are of a grandmother’s status. The reason, in my view,
for vulgarizing the greeting is the decline of respect to chieftainship after President
Nyerere abolished it immediately after independence to reduce ethnic antagonisms and
conflicts. The word mawe, which is attached to bwacha, means “mother,” but like tata it
also means “daughter.” It is also worth noting that it is the vowel length and tone that
differentiates the women’s greeting “Suula” from the men’s “Sula.”
One thing that can be noted from Chart 3 is that in case a man and woman of same age
meet, the woman has to give the man a respectable greeting normally given to older
persons. Younger women nowadays refuse to deliver this greeting. When this happens,
both the man and woman simply smile and continue with other procedures of the greeting
formality. Also notice that women lengthen the vowels to differentiate if from the men’s.
The greeting does not change when the woman starts and the man responds.
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Chart 3: Man to Woman
Time
Relative to Your Age
Your Greeting
Her Response
5 A.M.–Noon
Older
Bwachamawe
Bwachaatata
5 A.M.–Noon
Same Age
Bwachamawe
Bwachaasugu
5 A.M.–Noon
Much Younger
Bwachamawe
Bwachaatata
Noon–5 A.M.
Older
Lyagwamawe
Lyagwaatata
Noon–5 A.M.
Same Age
Lyangwamawe
Lyagwaasugu
Noon–5 A.M.
Much Younger
Lyagwamawe
Lyagwaatata
Chart 4: Special Greeting of Time, Man to Man
Age
Greeting
Response
Older
Kampile-sumalama
Tangunu
Same Age
Sumalama
Sumalama
Much Younger
Kampile-sumalama
Tangunu
When a woman meets a man or a man meets woman the exchange of greetings is as
woman to woman (Charts 4 and 5). This special greeting of time is used between people
who have not met for a long time, usually a lapse of one year and above. In this greeting
the normal division of a day’s time does not apply. There is only immeasurable time.
Greetings According to Relationship
Among In-laws (Ensanzi)
In-laws regard themselves as equals. Parents of both sides greet each other with “Sula”
from 5 A.M. to noon and with “Sibilota” from 1 P.M. to 4 P.M., and with “Iyagwasugu”
from 4 P.M. to 5 A.M. This greeting cuts across gender. The same greeting is used
between children of the two families and sometimes it spreads into the two clans. The
son-in-law and daughter-in-law use the same greeting to other members of the opposite
side, but not to the parents and their brothers and sisters. In greeting a father-in-law or
mother-in-law, the normal greeting is used but with more respect than that given to one’s
real parents. Extreme humility in delivery or greetings to the parents of the wife’s or
husband’s parents is how society judges the character of the son-in-law or daughter-inlaw. Fathers-in-law and mothers are not supposed to look directly into the face of their
daughters-in-law and son-in-law. The couple is required to do the same and must kneel
during the entire greeting formality, on one knee for man, and on both knees for women.
When greeting a mother-in-law, the son-in-law does not use the normal greeting. He is
required to take a squatting posture and say “Mwanagilamo mayo” (Have you slept well,
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mother-in-law?), if the greeting takes place at home. But when meeting her on the path,
he will say “Mwanagilayo moyo.” The affix -mo- is for
Chart 5: Special Greeting of Time, Woman to
Woman
Age
Greeting
Response
Older
Malama
Mangunu
Same Age
Malama
Malama
Much Younger
Malama
Mangunu
inside the home and -yo- is for “there in the home.” It is taboo for the son-in-law to
mention or call his mother-in-law by her name.
There is a special kind of greeting between brother and brother’s wife. A brother’s
wife is greeted with special and carefully selected praise names. Below is an example:
Greeting (brother)
Response (sister-in-law)
—sula
Suula
—sula chombeka
Suula
—sula niwe wena
Suula
—sula manchwanta galunga omugobe, etc.
Suula
—sula
Suula
—sula, you are the foundation of home
Suula
—sula, you are the beginning and the end
Suula
—sula, to you whose saliva seasons vegetables, etc.
Suula
The whole process is a play on metaphors and symbols which often cause a smile from
the sister-in-law and laughter from the listeners. There is normally a special kind of
joking relationship between in-laws. This kind of greeting extends to all the sisters of
brother’s wife and to all the daughters of her brothers. Her husband extends the same
greeting to them.
Woman Greeting a Brother
A woman, however much older she is than her brother, must greet him with
“Bwachaasugu,” as she normally greets older men; she must greet him with great respect,
usually with both knees on the ground. This is done because of the high status of male
children in Kerebe patrilineal culture. The male children were traditionally the inheritors
of their father’s property. Modern women have come to question this ideology and no
longer kneel to younger brothers as they consider it demeaning.
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Greeting an Uncle
Uncles are highly respected and have to be greeted with “Kampile bwachasugu,”
regardless of age. An uncle, however young, is always considered elder. This greeting is
given to the whole family. This kind of respect may stretch for an entire generation with
grandchildren continuing to respect their grandfather’s uncles. Very often a joking
relationship develops between uncles and children of their sisters especially when the age
difference is great. Uncles are the ones to run to in times of difficulties, and the ones to
whom people feel free to reveal their innermost secrets and feelings. They also have
special privileges in marriage procedures.
Greeting a Husband
A husband is always regarded as an elder and greeted with great respect by his wife. She
greets him with “Suula” and the husband replies with “Lelota,” with an air of respectable
pride. The way the couple greet each other often reveals what is happening in their home
and the nature of their relationship. Today, educated women are not comfortable with this
gender inequality, especially when the marriage has produced children. Society is always
keen to hear how couples greet each other. A wife who does not greet her husband as
being younger to him is regarded rude, uncompromising and ill-mannered, a behavior
usually associated with the way her parents brought her up. It is likely that Kerebe wives
were traditionally often much younger than their husbands; the age difference was
significant enough to warrant the greeting, in which respect is afforded based on age
difference.
Royal Greetings
The chief is normally greeted with praise names. Praises start from a distance before
reaching the chief. The normal formulaic greeting is “Kasinge Lugaba Kamele Wetu”
(Hail! The giver and ruler of us all). The chief only nods his head in appreciation. The
person delivering the greeting puts the palms together and makes a low clap as the
greeting is uttered. Men make a slight bend, while women kneel on both knees. The chief
may wish to ask further questions in a greeting pattern to the person especially to those he
knows and his relatives. But to the general public a nod is good enough.
Those seeking favors from the chief sometimes exaggerate the performance with much
praise and extreme humility. Traditionally those who held positions in the chiefdom had
to pay homage to the chief with gifts collected from their area.
The mother of the chief is greeted with the normal greeting but she replies
“Bwachaatata” and “Bwachaamawe,” to men and women respectively. As pointed out
earlier, women greet her as if greeting a man. The wife of the chief may also use the same
greeting if she wants to assume authority over other women.
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Modes of Delivery
When an elderly person meets a female relative, the woman will step out of the path and
kneel down to deliver the greeting without looking at him straight into the face. The
normal greeting is “Bwachaasugu,” and the old man will reply “Bwachamawe.” The first
question from him is always “Akwaonka?” (Is the child suckling?). The woman answers
“Akwonga sugu” (the child is suckling, your honor). The old man will then ask
“Mwanagilayo kuzima?” (Did you sleep well there in your home?). The emphasis is
always on “Obuzima” (being well), which is a basic element in the Bantu concepts of life
(Tempels 1959; Mbiti 1969; Nkurunziza 1989). She will then narrate the health of the
whole family while still kneeling. When she is through, it is then her turn to ask the old
man the formulaic question “Newe abomwawe bata?” (And how are the ones who reside
in your homestead?). The old man will then diligently narrate his side of the health story.
The dialogue is often punctuated with exclamations, and words encouraging the speaker
to continue and answer follow-up questions.
When the old man is through, the first part of the greeting formality is over. The
woman will then stand up and explain where she is going, and the persons she is going to
see and for what reason. The old man will also explain his destination. But the well-being
of the persons to be visited is always at the center of the greeting conversation. This is the
second part of the greeting. The third part is the end of the greeting, consisting mainly of
messages, greetings to the family at home and to the homes of her destination and the
final farewell.
Traditionally this is what is means to greet someone. A greeting normally lasts five to
ten minutes. But when two old men meet, a greeting may last for fifteen minutes or more.
Sometimes they may look for shade, sit and continue with the conversation if something
has befallen to one of the two families. Another reason for their greeting taking a longer
time is that both of them have long lists of people staying in their homesteads. The list
includes grandchildren and may be great-grandchildren. It is rare for the whole family to
be in good health taking into account malaria bouts which often strike the islanders.
Apart from the long lists, old people have a lot to tell about their ailing body parts, where
they feel pain, and their deteriorating body strength. These are often narrated in forms of
complaints with explanations resembling a doctor-patient dialogue. Sometimes changes
of behavior among youths of the new generation become part of the greeting. One could
hear an old man saying, “We are well, but your son! Since he came back from town with
his talking box, we have never known peaceful sleep.”
As it can be observed from this mode of delivery the question of being is at the center
of the greeting formality. Even in the same homestead, those who get up first in the
morning are obliged to greet those who are still sleeping before going to the field or on
any other errand. Being is connected with good health and the well being of the entire
family and the clan. A person who is in good health is one who can work. It is for this
reason that if one meets a person or people who are working, the first word that is uttered
is “Milimo” (work), or “How is work?” The person who is passing may even help the
workers before continuing with the journey. The response to “Milimo?” is “Milimo
nizyo” (Yes, this is work!), which emphasizes the idea that to work is to survive.
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There are two more words which need a bit of an explanation since they are part of the
greeting formality. The two responses are “Goodbye” and “Thank you.” The concept of
goodbye among the Kerebe follows the variables of time and context or circumstance.
During the day, the one leaving will say “Msibemo” (Have a good stay during the day),
and the one being left will answer “Yee sugu msibeyo” (Yes your honour, have a nice
stay too where you are going). In the evening and at night, it is “Mmagilemo/mnagileyo”
(sleep well in/sleep well there). But when saying goodbye to people working or doing
something the one passing will say “Mzikolega” (Continue working as I go). Sometimes
the nature of the work is mentioned. The passer by can say “Lyombeka?” when greeting
people building a house (kwombeka, “to build”) and say “Mwombekehoga” or
“Mwombekega” (Continue building as I go). Even when people are sitting down talking,
the introductory greeting is “Mhoile?” (Are you resting talking?) and when bidding
farewell, the saying is “Mheyohoga” or “Mhoyega” (Stay well talking). When greeting
the bereaved, the saying is “Mwanagilamo mumabeho” (Did you sleep well in the cold).
When leaving, the saying is “Mnagilemo mumabeho” (Sleep well in the cold). Coldness
is mentioned because people sleep outside the house for three days after the burial.
The saying for “Thank you” reflects the centrality of hospitality among beings hence
the Kerebe say “Wkola kuzima!” (You have done well) or “Wasemazya” (You have
caused things to go well or to happen). Doing good to others is to cause something good
to happen. “Wasemezya” is, therefore, phenomenological expression of causality of
goodness which is associated with being.
In the two sayings “Goodbye” and “Thank you” as conceived by the Kerebe, we
notice the concept of wellness. Good sleep is the basis of good health and wellness. A
person who does not wake up well is sick and one who does not wake up at all is dead. In
the word wasemezya we see the idea that doing good to others is a cause of continuity
and the well being of others.
Phenomena of Time and Change
The phenomena of time and change occupy the center of the greeting formality especially
where two people have not met for a long time. This is why the normal greeting is
abandoned in favor of the special greeting of time. In this greeting, people ask questions
about the physical aspects which have markedly changed over time on a person.
Questions move carefully into elements of causality. Questions will be asked about where
the person was, and what he was doing, what happened. If the greeting act takes place at
home, observable changes at the home’s environment will be explained, beginning with
people who have passed away and newly constructed houses due to heavy rains and
disasters. Children will be called from where they are so that the visitor may observe how
they have grown and a proper introduction made. These detailed explanations of
phenomena are the ones that make a greeting and a visit one and the same thing.
The phenomena of change and time make the art of greeting a person one does not
know a very tricky one. People who change fast, for example, being gray-haired before
their time, usually smile without responding when given respectable greetings they do not
deserve. Time and change is normally observable through the following: gray hair,
baldness, loss of teeth, wrinkles on face and hands, bending of the spinal cord and knees,
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and control of foot steps and voice. Properties like a walking stick and a hat add to the
phenomena of change. These are some of the signs one must look at before delivering a
greeting. When two young men or women who do not know each other meet, the greeting
formality is even trickier. Sometimes the face, height, and body may help in sizing each
other in terms of age, but youths often go for a respectable greeting as a result it is normal
to hear people arguing for a greeting, the young and the old alike. If such arguments take
place at home, it is usually the mothers that are called to clear the matter. A mother may
simply say, “When I was pregnant, this one was already walking.” Once solved the
younger one has to accept it and start the greeting formality with respect. Old people
come to the rescue when a relationship is not clear.
If someone is not satisfied with the greeting accorded to him/ her, the person may
simply refuse to response and keep quiet. It is up to the person who uttered the greeting to
demand an explanation. Another way of refusing to accept a greeting politely is to reply
in the same greeting accorded to you. The other person will realize that you are
dissatisfied with the greeting. For instance, a person may think that he/she is older and
say “Lelota.” The person being greeted would reply “Lelota” to express dissatisfaction.
The greeting “Lelota” by “Lelota” does not exist. One of the two has to yield or else greet
each other as equals “Sula, sula.”
Greeting among the Kerebe is not something that is fixed once and for all and for
everyone. Although a general structure is there, it is time, change, age, sex, and
relationship that finally determine the kind of greeting to be accorded to a person.
Greeting is a phenomenological project that is carried out on a daily basis. The person
one greets as a younger person today can be older tomorrow if he marries or is married
into the family, or when a relationship one was not previously aware of becomes known.
In Kerebe greetings, ontological and temporal issues occupy the center of being. To be or
not to be is daily question in Kerebe culture.
References
Hartwig, Gerald. 1976. The Art of Survival in East Africa: The Kerebe and Long Distance Trade,
1800–1895. New York: Africana Publishing Company.
Mbiti, J.S. 1969. African Religions and Philosophy. London: Heinimann Educational Books.
Nkurunziza, Deudedit. 1989. Bantu Philosophy of Life in the Light of the Christian Message: A
Basis for an African Vitalistic Theology. Frankfurt on Main: Peter Verlag.
Tempels, Placide. 1959. Bantu Philosophy. Paris: Presence Africaine.
E.KEZILAHABI
See also Cosmology; East African Folklore: Overview; Gender Representations
in African Folklore
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GRIAULE, MARCEL (1898–1956)
A French pioneer in ethnographic field research in Africa, Marcel Griaule, a disciple of
Marcel Mauss, undertook his first African sojourn to Ethiopia in 1928. He gave a literary
account of this experience in Les Flambeurs d’hommes (The Burners of Men). He then
organized the famous Dakar-Djibouti mission (1931–1933) that traversed Africa from
east to west, from Senegal on the Atlantic Ocean to Ethiopia and the Red Sea. The team
he led conducted field research in fifteen countries, bringing back a great quantity of
information as well as one of the most important collections of objects currently housed
at the Musée de l’homme in Paris. During this expedition, Griaule discovered Dogon
country in Mali (previously, the French Sudan), which would remain his favorite research
area until his untimely death.
His work is important and diversified, especially in the field of the anthropology of
religion. Masques dogons (Dogon Masks), a model monograph on an institution,
demonstrate his early interest in language and the verbal and kinetic arts. In his youth, he
had been himself attracted to literature and had contributed to the Surrealist journal
Documents (1929). Masques dogons contains notations of songs and myths transmitted in
a secret language as well as a delineation (unusual at the time) of the dance movements.
He was also a pioneer in visual anthropology and in the application of aerial photography
to social sciences.
In 1946, Griaule’s meeting with the old hunter, Ogotemmêli, led him to focus his
interest on the mythology and cosmogony of the Dogon and the neighboring peoples,
which he took pleasure in comparing with those of the great ancient civilizations. Griaule
related his conversations in Dieu d’eau (“God of Water,” but the English translation was
published as Conversations with Ogotemmeli), an important book whose relevance
continues today. He was then initiated by the Dogon to an even higher level of esoteric
knowledge and began an account of their myth of creation, the first volume of which (Le
Renard Pale [1965], The Pale Fox [1986]) was published by Germaine Dieterlen after
Griaule’s death.
Marcel Griaule was a politically committed ethnologist. He defended Ethiopia against
Fascist Italy in 1936 (La Peau de l’Ours, The Bearskin). Concerned with the economic
development of the people he was studying, he had a dam built in Dogon country.
Recipient of the first chair in ethnology at the Sorbonne, he championed African cultures
in the face of Western prejudice.
References:
Griaule, Marcel. 1929 Mauvais oeil, Totemisme abyssin, and Jeux abyssins, Documents 6:218,
316–19, 332–33.
——. 1991. Les Fambeurs d’hommes (1934), Paris, Berg International. English translations:
Abyssinian Journey (1935), London: John Miles; Burners of Men (1936), Philadelphia:
Lippincott.
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——. 1936. La Peau de l’Ours. Paris, Gallimard.
——. 1994. Masques dogons (1938). Paris: Institut d’ethnologie.
——. 1938. Jeux dogons, Paris, Institut d’ethnologie.
——. 1966. Dieu d’eau. Entretiens avec Ogotemmêli (1948). Paris: Fayard. English translation:
Conversations with Ogotemmeli, An Introduction to Dogon religious ideas (1965), Published
for the International African Institute by the Oxford University Press.
Griaule, Marcel, and Dieterlen, Germaine 1991. Le Renard Pâle (1965). Paris, Institut
d’ethnologie. English translation: The Pale Fox (1986), Chino Valley, Arizona: Continuum
Foundation.
GENEVIÈVE CALAME-GRIAULE
See also French Study of African Folklore; Words and the Dogon
GRIOTS AND GRIOTTES
Griots and their female counterparts, griottes, are masters of words and music for many
societies in the Sahel and Savanna regions of West Africa. Too often described simply as
storytellers or praise-singers, griots actually perform so many other functions that no
single term in English adequately conveys the nature of what they do. Bard, wordsmith,
or artisan of the word partially describe these individuals.
Griots recount genealogies, narrate epics, compose songs to mark important events,
sing the praises of others, serve as intermediaries in delicate family, clan, and community
negotiations, entertain at, preside over or otherwise participate in weddings, naming
ceremonies, and installations of chiefs, teach people of all ages about the past, exhort
troops about to go into battle as well as athletes entering competition, serve as
spokespersons, interpret speeches, announce news, maintain the legal, family, and
historical records of a people, and give advice to their patrons.
Male griots play a variety of instruments, ranging from the twenty-one-stringed kora, a
kind of harp-lute, to the 3-to-5 stringed ngoni, also known as the koni, xhalam, or molo,
an instrument closer to the guitar, the xylophone-like balafon, and different kinds of
drums. Griottes in the vast Mande world play the newo, nege, or karinyan, a small piece
of slit metal pipe with a striker, while Moor women play the ardin, a 14-to-17 stringed
harp-lute.
Today, the instrumental and vocal music of griots and griottes has had an audible
impact on contemporary Afro-pop musicians, many of whom are descended from a griot
ancestor, for example Youssou N’Dour of Senegal. Some griots have performed on the
kora with symphony orchestras in the United States. Many of them, both men and
women, have produced CD recordings of their music.
It is quite likely that griots have been practicing their profession for at least a thousand
years, and probably longer. The earliest written references date to the mid-fourteenth
century. The modern term griot stems from an early seventeenth-century French word,
guiriot. Although guiriot does not appear in any African language, there is some evidence
pointing in the direction of an African root. According to this theory, griot would have
come from the word Ghana, from the empire by the same name. Slaves imported from
Ghana to Morocco from the tenth century on were called agenaou, or people from Ghana.
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Sold into Spain as early as the fourteenth century, the agenaou became known as
guineos, the Spanish word for Africans. The Spanish traveled to West Africa in the
fifteenth century, ahead of their French neighbors, French captains arriving in West
Africa in the early sixteenth century, probably with mixed French-Spanish crews, may
have created the term guiriot when told by Spanish crewmen that the griots who
announced the arrival of local chiefs were simply guineos. Further historical and
linguistic research is needed to confirm this theory.
Although griot serves as a regional term across the Sahel and Savanna today, it
remains controversial not only because of the ambiguity surrounding its roots, African,
European, or both, but also for two other reasons. The first is that every society that
supports griots has its own term. Mandinka jali in The Gambia, Bamana jeli in Mali,
Wolof gewel in Senegal, Moor iggio in Mauretania, Soninké geseré in Mauritania and
Mali, Songhay jeseré in Mali and Niger, Hausa marok’i in Niger and Nigeria, and Fulani
mabo and jawando are just some of the many words that are used today. The second is
that griots and griottes have a seemingly ambiguous social status in society.
To outsiders, especially early European travelers, griots appeared as clowns and paid
flatterers. In some societies, griots were not buried in the ground but in the hollows of
trees, a tradition followed from the sixteenth up through the twentieth century. Finally,
the very distinctiveness of griots within the local social structure, reinforced by
descriptions of them offered by other members of society, gave the impression that they
were so different that one could not even marry a griot. Even today, people of griot origin
often encounter obstacles to marriage to people who are not griots.
But these negative views do not match other evidence suggesting that griots were key
members of society: a ruler always kept his griot by his side for advice, for service as a
spokesperson, and for negotiations; griots are given great rewards for their services, even
today; finally, some of the most famous of them appear on postage stamps after they die.
The explanation for this apparent paradox comes from the power of the words of
griots over other people. Griots and their patrons form a symbiotic couple. The dynamics
of that relationship are marked by words and rewards. It is clear that griots are not of low
class or captive origin. They are instead skilled artisans of the word whose talents are
normally appreciated by all members of society, but sometimes feared by those whom
they believe deserve criticism.
Although the origin of the profession remains unknown, the African societies that
support griots and the griots themselves have their own versions of how the first griot
appeared. The earliest and most widespread etiological tale about griots tells of two
brothers who go hunting, become lost, and run out of food. When one brother weakens,
the other goes off some distance, cuts a piece of flesh from his thigh, returns, cooks it,
and serves it to his sibling, thus saving his life. When the reviving brother learns how his
benefactor has managed to find food, he decides to devote the rest of his life to singing
the praises of his brother. After Islam arrives in West Africa, the origin tale becomes
linked to Muhammad. The griot becomes a man named Surakata who, for a variety of
reasons, ends up singing the praises of the Prophet.
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Installation of regional chief Bakari
Sanya in Faraba Banta, The Gambia,
Oct. 2, 1991. On left: Adama Suso,
Mandinka, jalimuso, or griotte, playing
the karinya or newo, a small metal pipe
with striker. On right: Ma Lamini
Jobarteh, Mandinka, jali, or griot,
playing the 21-stringed kora, a type of
bridge harp. Photo © Thomas A.Hale.
Traditionally, the profession of griot was passed down from father to son and mother
to daughter. In fact, griots and griottes learn from a variety of sources, such as other
parents, friends, other griots encountered during travels, and even music heard on the
radio. A typical career itinerary might include the absorption of the sounds and activities
of griot life from childhood on, participation as a backup singer or musician at
ceremonies during youth, apprenticeship with a master during the late teen years, travel
across West Africa while in their twenties and thirties, and then a return home to perform
in their forties for wealthy patrons and sometimes even heads of state. By this time, the
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griot or griotte may be called a master griot, ngaara or jeliba in the Mande world or
jeseredunka in the Songhay world.
Not all those who come from griot families take up the profession. Many become
farmers, business people, or civil servants. They may become patrons of griots
themselves, as in the case of Babani Cissoko, a wealthy Malian businessman who once
gave a small airplane to a griotte he admired, and $250,000 to a high school marching
band in Florida that was raising money to go to the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade.
Some have become ministers in African governments.
Although one might expect the profession to disappear in the face of literacy,
Westernization, and the growing influence of the electronic age, for many reasons the
opposite is happening. First, thanks to Alex Haley’s Roots, griots have become known
around the world and the term griot has spread throughout the African diaspora. Second,
inexpensive air travel has enabled griots to shift their performance context from the
courtyards of the nobility to the global village. In addition to performing for expatriate
communities of Africans outside the continent, they also appear in the concert halls,
university auditoriums, schoolrooms, churches, and community centers of Paris, London,
New York, Chicago, San Francisco, and Tokyo, as well as in small cities and towns
around the world. Third, in many cases griots have embraced contemporary
communications technology in order to reach these audiences. Satellites, television, radio,
cassettes, CDs, and amplifiers are familiar to those who travel widely. Finally, the high
rewards available to the most talented or most enterprising griots today has encouraged
younger generations to learn the profession and strike out on their own.
Griots practice both verbal and musical art. Their verbal art lies at the heart of the
profession, but their music is often an essential component of the entire picture. The
verbal art of griots ranges from brief praise-songs to epics that may take many evenings
to recount and add up to as many as eight thousand lines when transcribed. The epics tell
about heroes that go back as far as the Ghana empire a millennium ago. The most widely
read epic available to readers around the world is the story of the thirteenth century ruler
of Mali, Sundiata, or Son-Jara. It now appears in a wide range of formats, from an
illustrated children’s story to a reconstructed prose version for junior high school and
high school students, and a three thousand-line linear transcription and translation. More
recent leaders such as the Senegalese national hero, Lat Dior, who died fighting the
French in 1886, are also the subjects of epics. These epics, recorded during the last few
decades, reveal how people today interpret the stories of heroes from the past. From a
Western perspective, they are examples of fiction. But from an African viewpoint, these
texts constitute the history and cultural heritage of a people. Nineteen of the twenty five
epics excerpted in Oral Epics from Africa, the first collection of its kind to appear in the
world, are narrated by griots and griottes.
References
Camara, Sory. 1976. Gens de la parole Essai sur le rôle et condition des griots dans la société
malinké. Paris: Mouton.
Dramé, Adama, and Arlette Senn-Borloz. 1992. Jeliya: être griot et musicien aujourd’hui. Paris:
Harmattan.
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Hale, Thomas A. 1990. Scribe, Griot and Novelist: Narrative Interpreters of the Songhay Empire.
Gainesville: University Press of Florida.
——. 1994. Griottes of the Sahel: Female Voices from West Africa. Research in African
Literatures 25, no. 3:71–91.
——. 1997. From the Griot of Roots to the Roots of Griot: A New Look at the Origins of a
Controversial African Term for Bard. Oral Tradition 12, no. 2:249–78.
——. 1998. Griots and Griottes: Masters of Words and Music. Bloomington: Indiana University
Press.
Johnson, John Willam, Thomas A.Hale, and Stephen Belcher. 1997. Oral Epics from Africa:
Vibrant Voices from a Vast Continent. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
THOMAS A.HALE
See also Epics; Myths; West Africa: Overview; Women Singers of Mali
GUINEA (REPUBLIC OF GUINEA)
Guinea is a tropical country of 7,860,000 people located on Africa’s west coast. Its
neighboring countries are Guinea Bissau, Senegal, Mali, Cote D’Ivoire, Liberia, and
Sierra Leone. Guin-ea’s capital is Conakry, a costal city with a population of 705,000.
Thirty-five percent of Guinea’s people are Fulani, 30 percent are Malinke, and 20 percent
are Soussou. The remaining 15 percent of the population is made up of various ethnic
groups. The major languages spoken are French, Fula, Mandinka, Susu, and Malinke.
The country is overwhelmingly Muslim (85 percent). Of the remaining population, 8
percent are Christian and 7 percent practice traditional indigenous religions.
The area became a French protectorate in 1888. Sekou Toure, a militant descendent of
nineteenth-century Malinke leader Samori Toure, led Guinea to its independence from
France on October 2, 1958. Guinea chose not to maintain its economic ties to France and
it has suffered for this decision ever since. Until his death in 1984, Toure dictated
Guinea’s one-party republic. With the end of Toure’s regime, many political reforms
have been made, and many of the previous government’s socialist structures have since
been dismantled. Although Guinea has yet to achieve a stable and tolerant political scene,
a multiparty republic with a new constitution has been implemented.
Much of Guinea is rich in natural resources such as bauxite, diamonds, and gold. The
economy has not benefited, however, due to underdevelopment under Toure’s statecontrolled marketing and distribution of products. Governmental reforms since 1987 have
tried to improve Guinea’s economic situation and bauxite and diamond exportation has
become a main source of revenue for the country.
JENNIFER JOYCE
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GUINEA-BISSAU (REPUBLIC OF
GUINEA-BISSAU)
Guinea-Bissau is a small tropical country of over 1 million peoples, and is located on
West Africa’s coast between Senegal and Guinea. Bissau is the country’s capital and
largest city with a population of 200,000. Thirty percent of the population is Balante, 20
percent Fulani, 14 percent Manjaca, 13 percent Mandinka, and 23 percent are composed
of various smaller groups. Portuguese is the official language and Kriolo (or Crioulo) is
the lingua franca. Fula, Mandinka, Manjanka, and Balanta are the most widely spoken
indigenous languages. Over half of all Guinea-Bissauans still practice traditional
indigenous religions (65 percent). Thirty percent of the remaining population is Muslim
and 5 percent are Christian.
On September 10, 1974, Guinea-Bissau gained its independence from Portugal after a
long struggle for independence that began in 1962. The successful liberation struggle
played a major role in the liberation of other African colonies. A Marxist governmental
model was followed for a number of years. After ten years of one-party rule, GuineaBissau shifted to a multiparty system in 1991. The political system, however, is still
unstable and there was a military coup in 1999.
Guinea-Bissau is one of the poorest countries in the world. The recent discovery of oil,
bauxite, and phosphates could potentially create revenue from foreign exploitation.
Eighty percent of the population is engaged in agriculture, such as the production of
peanuts, rice, palm kernels, and groundnuts. Fish is one of the major exports. Despite this
fact, much of the country’s food must still be imported because of poor infrastructure and
a lack of governmental incentives to produce surplus.
JENNIFER JOYCE
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H
HAUSA
See Contemporary Bards: Hausa Visual Artists
HAYA
See Gender
HEALING AND SPIRIT POSSESSION IN
SÃO TOMÉ AND PRÍNCIPE
Introduction
After five hundred years of Portuguese colonial rule, São Tomé and Príncipe gained
independence in 1975. A flourishing local Creole society and culture is the outcome of
the encounter of the dominant Catholic Portuguese culture and African cultures. The
majority of the population belongs to the group known as the Forros—native Creoles
who are descended from the early white colonists and African slaves. The descendents of
a small, marooned community formed in the sixteenth century in the south of São Tomé
island are known as Angolares. The offspring of contract workers from Angola,
Mozambique, and Cape Verde, recruited for the local plantation economy from 1875 to
1960, who were born in the archipelago are locally called Tongas.
African beliefs in witchcraft (feitiço) and divination are common among Forros,
Angolares, and Tongas, existing side by side with Christian beliefs; the two are
frequently fused into new syncretic forms. Old women are frequently beaten after they
are accused of being a feiticeira (witch). The belief in uê bluku, or the Evil Eye, which is
associated with envy and functions psychosocially as a leveler of socioeconomic
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differences, is of European origin. In São Tomé, protection against the Evil Eye includes
use of the ulua, the fruit of a palm tree (Borassus aethiopum), a pulpous plant called
babosa (Aloés humilis), a wooden cross, a horseshoe, an old chamberpot, rotten eggs, or a
bottle filled with stale urine, placed close to the entrance of the house. Traditional healers
and ritual specialists, known as curandeiros, oversee the local spirit-possession cult,
djambí. The term stems from the word nzambí or njambí, meaning “the Almighty” and
“God” in kímbundu and kíkongo, respectively. The term chinguilar (to invoke the spirits
of the dead) has the same linguistic origin. The curandeiro is initiated and trained by an
elder master of the cult in the wisdom and the practices of the djambí. He enacts the cult
either to treat a particular case or to commemorate the annual feast day of his own
principal spirit. In the latter case, preceding the djambí, he may lead a procession
accompanied by drums from a nearby Catholic church to his own compound.
During the ceremony, which lasts from sunset to sunrise, a fire illuminates the scene,
while the drummers summon the spirits of the ancestors who have returned to afflict the
living. One puíta (large drum), three drums, and three sucalos (rattles) provide for the
batuque (drumming). The sound of the drums varies according to the ethnic origin of the
spirit called. Women stamp cassava leaves in a big mortar to the rhythms of the drums.
Tables with dishes and drinks are laid out for the spirits and decorated with leaves and
flowers collected in the graveyard. The curandeiro presiding over the ceremony is the
spirit medium determining the identity of the spirits who have caused the disease or
misfortune of an individual, a family, or a whole community. Besides the family and
friends of the patient, hundreds of outsiders attend the events. The spectators eat and
drink, and they may come and go during the ceremony. Attendants are often suddenly
possessed by a spirit, thereafter falling into a trance and dancing to the rhythms of the
drums.
The possessed speak in tongues of the spirit that only the curandeiro can understand.
The language varies, for the spirits belong to Forros, Angolares, Angolans, Cape
Verdians, Mozambicans, and Tongas who died on the island. The possessed may walk
over the red-hot wood without being burnt. The afflicted person and his or her relatives
provide for the food, drinks, and the chicken, goats, or pigs that are ritually killed during
the nightly drama.
The Christian cross and human bones belong to the essential paraphernalia of the cult.
Together with wooden figures, candles, palm oil lamps, eggs, and other food put on an
altar, they are also present in the chapel in the curandeiro’s compound. Here he receives
the patients for individual treatment by other meth-ods. To fight the devil and
misfortunes, curandeiros also use formulas, charms, spells, and devotions from old magic
books like Breviário de Rezas e Mandingas, Confortadora Cruz de Caravaca, and the
book of São Cipriano. (The latter’s author is not the famous bishop of Carthago with the
same name, but a powerful sorcerer from ancient Phoenicia.)
When a child or adolescent suffers from illness or problems such as nightmares or
bed-wetting, the blame is often ascribed to a double who has remained in the
extraterrestrial realm, causing these misfortunes by constantly calling to the child on
earth. The double claims his or her presence, considering the flight to earth as treason. To
cure the child, the parents ask a curandeiro to perform a sacrifice called pagá-dêvê,
literally meaning “to pay the debt.” The ritual is done at night, preferably on a Thursday
or Saturday, in the presence of the patient, either along a stream, at a waterfall, at the
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beach, or on a crossroads. Neither father nor mother may be present during the pagádêvê. To reconcile the double, a wooden dish with a variety of food, sweets, flowers, and
small flags is usually put on the ground to pay the unsettled debt of a former life. In
addition, two small, simply carved human figures of both sexes made from the wood of
the ocá (silk-cotton tree, Ceiba petandra) may also be used. The patient is cured if the
double’s spirit accepts the offering.
Unlike the curandeiro, other traditional healers and specialists can be either man or
woman, usually an elderly person within the local community. A local healer who
diagnoses diseases by the examination of urine is called pia-dô-záua. According to his
diagnosis, he prescribes infusions that the patient must drink and then monitors the effect
of the treatment through further examination of the patient’s urine. The herbalist, known
as stlijon mátu, uses natural products to grind mixtures that the patient takes according
his prescriptions. The herbalists’ knowledge of the properties of local medical plants is
remarkable, and they are even sought after in neighboring countries and in Lisbon. They
treat all types of diseases, including venereal and intestinal diseases, fevers, parasite
infections, and tuberculosis. Another type of local therapist, the tchiladô ventoso, makes
small cuts with a sharp knife in the swollen or painful parts of the skin to let out the bad
blood that has caused the pain. He also uses an ox horn, cut through the middle and
equipped with a small opening at the conic end to suck with his mouth. Since he takes
into account the dominating lunar constellations, he cures only on certain days.
References
Espírito Santo, Calos. 1998. A Coroa do Mar. Lisbon: Editorial Caminho.
Eyzaguirre, Pablo B. 1986. Small Farmers and Estates in São Tomé, West Africa. Unpublished
Ph.D. thesis. Yale University.
Valverde, Paulo. 2000. Máscara, Matro e Morte em São Tomé. Oeiras: Celta Editora.
GERHARD SEIBERT
See also Diaspora; Medicine; Spirit Possession
HERO
The term hero is used mostly in relation to heroic and epic traditions; it designates a
person who, after accomplishing great things, is celebrated in song, narrative, and various
other genres. The distinguishing characteristics of a given hero may be bravery,
intelligence, perseverance, supernatural powers, or a combination of any of these factors.
Generally, the hero embodies and exemplifies social values, ideals, and aspirations.
It seems prudent, however, to view the hero also as complex, contradictory, and
dynamic. Heroes may embody and exemplify social ideals and values, but they also tend
to possess the ability and willingness to transgress those ideals and values. They may be
admired, but they may also be feared. Though celebrated, heroes tend to be problematic,
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often troublesome, and even anti-social. Restlessness and a desire for adventure, rather
than conformity and a wish for stability, seem to be the hallmarks of heroism.
The ambiguity and contradictoriness of the hero’s personality make it possible for the
hero to be viewed differently by different people, especially since apprehending the hero,
like reading a text, is a form of interpretation and appropriation that depends on the
viewers’ position, perspective, and interests. A character may be celebrated as a hero in
one place, but be seen differently elsewhere. The boundaries between the hero, the
villain, and the trickster, for example, may be more tenuous than we conventionally
imagine. With time, also, people’s perception of a hero may change; a hero of a certain
time may not be a hero in another era. There are, thus, diachronic and asynchronic factors
that render the image of the hero complex and dynamic.
Due mostly to the kind of research that has been done and the perspective of the
researchers, we generally think of the hero as a male figure. The existence of female
heroes, however, should be recognized. There are female figures who are alter egos of
male heroes. There are others, such as the mother, the sister, or the aunt, who play
crucial, even determining, roles in the careers of male heroes, and who can thus be seen
as heroes in their own right. These factors challenge the traditional view of the hero as
male. The role or status of hero in a given epic may not necessarily belong exclusively to
an individual, but may be shared by more than one individual.
A rethinking of the heroic and epic traditions and ongoing research on other traditions
demonstrate considerable diversity in the manifestations of the hero figure. There are
different concepts of heroism, ranging from the militaristic to the shamanistic.
Nevertheless, the hero is the focal point of discourses about social values and aspirations,
whether the hero embodies, exemplifies, or transgresses those values and aspirations. The
image of the hero is an ideological construct and vehicle; it is a projection of the concerns
and outlook of a specific society or social group. Often, the image of the hero is used to
stake claims of certain kinds. To enhance their social status, for example, people typically
claim connection to the hero.
Ultimately, it must be determined whether the term hero is adequate, appropriate, or
applicable to the traditions of different parts of the world. Just as terms such as epic or
folktale are not necessarily congruent with African nomenclature, the term hero may not
have equivalents in certain African languages. It carries meanings and associations that
may not apply to the African realities. Researchers ought, perhaps, to pay attention to
indigenous categories and concepts and study the African traditions on their own terms.
Comparative studies can follow, based on a deep understanding of each specific tradition.
References
Bird, Charles S., and Mary Kendall. 1980. The Mande Hero: Texts and Context. In Explorations in
African Systems of Thought, ed. Ivan Karp and Charles S.Bird, pp. 131–49. Bloomington:
Indiana University Press.
Mbele, Joseph L., 1982. The Hero in the African Epic. Africana Journal, 13, no. 1–4:124–41.
JOSEPH L.MBELE
See also Epics, Myths
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HERO IN SUKUMA PROSE
NARRATIVES
The Sukuma live on the southern side of Lake Victoria in northwestern Tanzania. The
first inhabitants of Sukumaland appear to have been hunters and gatherers, the remnants
of whose culture are visible in such forms as rock paintings. Sukuma oral traditions
mention these ancestors.
Sukuma folklore incorporates a wide diversity of forms, including narratives, songs,
and other discursive forms. Among the most pervasive narratives are those concerning
shing’weng’we, a monster figure. In these narratives, shing’weng’we may appear either
alone or with other shing’weng’we. There are, among the Sukuma, different conceptions
of what shing’weng’we really is, in appearance and attributes.
Typically, this monster is confronted by a young hero, Masala Kulangwa. The
adventures of Masala Kulangwa and shing’weng’we are told everywhere in Sukumaland.
In some shing’weng’we tales, shing’weng’we does not interact with Masala Kulangwa,
but with other human characters, male or female.
Masala Kulangwa is a trickster hero, perhaps the most well-known in Sukuma
folklore. There are, however, other trickster heroes, such as Ibambangulu, who is said to
have had the ability to expand his body until he filled a room. He also had the ability to
leave his and his dog’s footprints on rocks.
There is virtually no mention of epic in the literature on Sukuma folklore. However, it
is logical to view the cycle of tales around Masala Kulangwa as the prototype of an epic
tradition. Subsequently, epics were created around such heroes as Ng’wanamalundi.
Ngw’anamalundi is a historical as well as a cult figure. He had many heroic
achievements, such as defeating Maasai cattle raiders and outwitting the colonialists who
imprisoned him. He also had great magic powers. His grave in Seke, in the Shinyanga
region, is an important shrine.
There are also other heroes, both male and female, who are celebrated in song and
narrative. These figures tend to be shamanistic; their medicines or magic powers are a
hallmark of their prowess.
The historic experience and interactions of the Sukuma with their neighbors is a key
theme in the folklore. Most notable in this regard is the experience of raids by the Maasai.
This is a constant theme in folk tales, epics, and other forms of folklore. The hero
Ngwanamalundi, for example, confronts the Maasai cattle raiders and retrieves the cattle
they have stolen.
Various songs of the Sukuma have been published, including hunting songs, work
songs, and political songs. Dances and singing are central in Sukuma culture. These
activities are often organized as competition between two rival sects, the Giika and the
Gaalu. Members of these sects exist in every Sukuma village and community. The
contestants strive to win through a variety of means, including not only singing skills but
magic, medicines, spectacular attire, and antics. The group that ends up attracting the
most spectators wins the contest.
Because of the competitive tradition between Giika and Gaalu, the character of the
songs is polemical and satirical. When they comment on social and political issues, the
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singers tend to use the same strategies. The language and imagery are rather earthy and
hard hitting. Over the years, from the days of colonialism to the present, this has
sometimes caused the singers to be harassed by the authorities.
There are, however, other kinds of dances for which the Sukuma are well known, such
as the snake dance and the bugobogobo, an agricultural dance. It appears that the snake
dance evolved from a hunters’ dance. The bugobogobo is an efficient mechanism for
harmonizing the rhythm of hoeing the fields and keeping the farmers entertained.
References
Millroth, Berta. 1965. Lyuba: Traditional Religion of the Sukuma. Uppsala: Almqvist and Wiksells
Boktryckeri AB.
Welch, Elvie Adams. 1974. Life and Literature of the Sukuma in Tanzania, East Africa.
Dissertation. Howard University.
JOSEPH L.MBELE
See also East African Folklore; Epics; Tricksters in African Folklore
HERSKOVITS, MELVILLE J. (1895–
1963)
The founder of African studies in the United States, Melville J. Herskovits collected and
analyzed African folklore in the course of ethnographic research in West Africa and as
part of a long-term project to examine the retention and transformation of African
cultural elements in the Americas. Many of the “Africanisms” he identified in the
Caribbean, Latin America, and the United States consisted of folklore traced to African
sources. Since he studied African folklore found on both sides of the Atlantic, Herskovits
was able to observe how it changed as he developed his theories of acculturation and
culture change. Drawing from his broad comparative perspective, he described such
common features found in sub-Saharan Africa as the performance of narratives as
dramatic expression, delight in double entendre, improvisation, the presence of multiple
narrative forms, the uses of folklore for moral education, and the artful use of indirection
in speech and folklore.
Folklore, for Herskovits, meant verbal creative expression. He also counted other
aesthetic forms among his extraordinarily broad research interests of music, dance,
games, and material culture. Like other folklorists of the early and mid-twentieth century,
Herskovits classified texts and analyzed their origins and distribution. He challenged the
Eurocentric biases of the comparative folklorists of his time through identifying multiple
sources from Africa, as well as Europe, for the folktales of Africans in the New World. In
Suriname Folk-Lore (1969)—co-authored, like many of his works on folklore, with his
wife and close collaborator Frances S.Herskovits—he found, for example, that the The
Good Child and the Bad story among Suriname Creoles contains “correspondences” with
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338
the Frau Holle, Cinderella and Magic Whip tales of Europe, as well as the motif of the
orphaned child from the notchievi cycle of Dahomean tales. Commonalities among the
folklore of Africa, Europe, and Asia were ascribed to historical contacts among the
peoples of the “Old World cultural province” that encompassed these three continents.
A trip to West Africa in 1931 resulted in the collection of folktales in pidgin English
in the Gold Coast (now Ghana) and extensive collecting of folktales, riddles, proverbs,
and verse forms in Dahomey (now Benin). After revisiting Dahomey in 1957, the
Herskovitses published their only book about African folklore, Dahomean Narrative: A
Cross-Cultural Analysis (1959). When collecting folktales on these field trips, they
closely observed the performance of narratives and recorded full texts in interviews with
informants, departing from the predominant approach of folklorists whose collections
consisted of the abstracts of texts. Through observing folklore as it was performed, in
context, Herskovits achieved fresh insights about the nature of folklore and how it
functioned in African culture and society. While other folklorists of his day viewed
folklore as consisting of texts, Herskovits saw it also as performance, contending that the
telling of folk tales among “Negroes everywhere” involved a “dramatic presentation with
a principle impersonator and a chorus” (1969 [1936], 142): that is, a performance with
participation by an audience.
Narratives collected by Herskovits and his wife were transcribed from the translations
of interpreters as they were being told. In Dahomey, rather than relying solely upon “men
of reputation as storytellers,” informants were chosen so as to represent a broad range of
social ranks and ages. Through their choices of informants, Herskovits and his wife were
able to study variations in particular tales, tale types, regions, and styles of narration.
Oral narrative was viewed as a kind of literature, to be analyzed on the same plane as a
“short story or novel…taking into account…plot construction, character development or
other points that a literary critic or student of comparative literature would consider”
(1961, 452). Herskovits also asserted that the literary analysis of oral narratives should
include unities of time, place, and action, devices to heighten emotion and create
suspense, imagery, content, values and style.
The master storyteller in Dahomey commands multiple stylistic devices. He
manipulates tense to convey how incidents happen at different times, uses multiple verbs
in an active voice, and creates emphasis, all contributing to the effect of “descriptive
images filled in with a few rapid strokes, to leave uncluttered for the foreground for
dramatizing the thematic progressions” (1958, 67).
Improvisation was seen by Herskovits as a fundamental pattern in African creative
expression, used with particular potency for praise or ridicule. The professional verse
makers of Dahomey composed new songs within traditional structures to praise ancestors
of important families and the accomplishments of prominent men. Songs of derision were
improvised and sung to the Herskovitses when they unsuccessfully tried to persuade
some Ashanti to sing into a phonograph. Singers of songs that accompanied the avogan
social dance in Abomey satirized the people of different neighborhoods with new songs,
and women improvised new verses to the rhythm of their pestle in pounding millet to
indirectly reproach, protest against, or threaten an unnamed co-wife. Herskovits was
intrigued by the pervasive, artful use of indirection among peoples of African descent,
that he described as “the tendency to speak in terms of circumlocution and innuendo, the
habit of the constant use of inference” (1935, 120).
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Proverbs in Africa employ indirection to vent anger, reproach, or instruct. In a
pioneering work of proverb scholarship based on field research with a Kru informant
from Liberia living in Chicago, Herskovits examined the situations in which proverbs are
used and tied their meaning to context. Among the Kru, proverbs are used to correct
children and warn them of proscribed behavior, rebuke wrongdoing adults, comment on
“current happenings,” insult a non-family member, “settle disputes,” and “commiserate a
relative or friend on ill-fortune” (1930, 228).
Writing in general terms about proverbs throughout Africa, Herskovits observed that
in native courts they are cited in a similar way as legal precedents in European courts
(1935, 230). He viewed proverbs as primary vehicles for the moral education of African
young people, teaching what is right and wrong and pointing to basic values (1961, 453).
Animal tales are likewise used for moral education. The trickster character teaches that
“wisdom and perspicacity are better than strength, that the old are wiser than the young,
that malice often brings about destruction, that impetuousness is dangerous, that
obedience is rewarded, and other moral precepts of like character” (1935, 228).
Riddles in Africa have different meanings for the young and older people. Double
entendre, also used extensively in narrative forms, is especially prevalent in riddles,
where the “skilled use of the hidden obscenities” are not understood by children. In
Dahomey the Herskovitses found the double entendre was especially important when
riddling was practiced during rites for the dead, since it gave the deceased so much
pleasure when they were alive. Dahomean Narrative also described the distinctive
stylistic characteristics of riddles: their use of exaggeration and their references to the
grotesque, and the forbidden. While some riddles are metrical and in couplets, others are
told in everyday speech.
Dahomean Narrative contained an unusually comprehensive account of the variety of
forms found in Dahomey. Through the treatment of a wide range of narratives,
Dahomean Narrative departed from most previous works on African folklore, which had
concentrated upon animal tales. The Herskovitses described in detail the system of
naming and classifying narratives used by the Dahomeans themselves. The two broad
categories of narratives include the hwenoho, “time-old story…translated variously as
history, as traditional history, or as ancient history” and the heho, or “tale” (1958, 14–15).
In planning his first trip to West Africa, Herskovits expected that Dahomean culture
would represent a baseline for his studies of the retention of African traditions in the
Americas. He was drawn to its relatively unacculturated character, due to its having been
“almost less affected than any other by the circumstances of European control” (1967
[1937]: vol. 1, i), and its significance as a primary source culture for Africans in the
Americas who retained Africanisms. Herskovits recognized, however, that the cultures of
Africans in the Americas varied greatly in their extent of African retention. For example,
centuries of isolation among the Maroons of Suriname resulted in a “culture that is more
African than the West African cultures of today,” (NUHP, MJH/Elsie Clews Parsons,
11/11/29), on one extreme of what he would later call a “scale of intensity of
Africanisms” (1966 [1945], 51). West Africans, shown photographs of Maroon material
culture, were startled that traditions preserved in the New World were forgotten in Africa
(SCHP, West Africa Diary, 3/ 21/21).
In Dahomey, the Herskovitses saw how folklore incorporated cultural change brought
about by colonization. Dahomey: An Ancient African Kingdom, published in 1937,
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discussed narratives that referred to the automobile and experiences in a European war. In
his consideration of such narratives, Herskovits departed from conventional
representations of African traditional folklore as embedded in an ethnographic present
frozen in time, immune from outside influences. Three decades later, in Dahomean
Narrative, the Herskovitses discussed the impact of colonization upon narratives in their
analysis of “narrative and the changing culture,” where the “amalgamation of the new
with the old” (1958, 72) included reference to the French franc, trains, European tools,
and writing.
While Herskovits considered the impact of cultural change upon African folklore in
writings that were explicitly about Africa, his works about Africans in the Americas
rendered the sources of Africanisms as fixed reference points that had not been subject to
cultural change. His writings on the cultures of African descendents in the New World,
were deeply concerned with the transformations of African traditions that occurred in the
Americas, analyzed through the conceptual approaches he developed concerning the
cultural processes of acculturation, syncretism, and reinterpretation.
The legacy of Herskovits in African folklore studies has been perpetuated by the
students he trained at Northwestern University. He taught there for most of his career,
beginning four years after he received his Ph.D. in anthropology in 1923 from Columbia
University, where he had studied with Franz Boas. In 1948, Herskovits established the
African Studies Program at Northwestern, the first of its kind in the world. Students of
Herskovits who have studied the folklore and traditional arts of Africans and New World
blacks include Robert Plant Armstrong, Warren D’Azevedo, William R.Bascom, Justine
Cordwell, Daniel J.Crowley, James W.Fernandez, John C.Messenger, Jr., Alan
P.Merriam, and Richard Waterman.
References
Baron, Robert. 1994. Africa in the Americas: Melville J.Herskovits’ Folkloristic and
Anthropological Scholarship, 1923–1941. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Pennsylvania.
Herskovits, Melville J. 1935. Social History of the Negro. In Handbook of Social Psychology, ed.
Carl Murchison, p. 207–67. Worcester, MA: Clark University Press.
——. 1967. Dahomey, an Ancient African Kingdom. (1937). Evanston, IL: Northwestern
University Press.
——. 1966. Problem, Method and Theory in Afroamerican Studies. Afroamerica, 1 (1945): 5–24.
Reprinted in The New IN: Minerva Press. World Negro. Ed. Frances S.Herskovits, p. 43–61.
Bloomington,
——. 1961. The Study of African Oral Art. Journal of American Folklore, 74:451–56.
Herskovits, Melville J., and Frances S.Herskovits. 1969 Suriname Folk-Lore. (1936). New York:
AMS Press.
——. Tales in Pidgin English from Ashanti. Journal of American Folklore, 50:52–101.
——. 1958. Dahomean Narrative, A Cross-Cultural Analysis. Evanston: Northwestern University
Press.
Herskovits, Melville J. and Sie Ta’gbwe. 1930. Kru Proverbs. Journal of American Folklore,
43:225–93.
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Archival Sources
Northwestern University Library: Melville J.Herskovits Papers Schomburg Center for
Research in Black Culture Archives, New York Public Library (NY): Melville
J.Herskovits Papers (SCHP).
ROBERT BARON
See also Bascom, William R.; Diaspora; West African Folklore: Overview
HISTORY AND CULTURAL IDENTITY:
THE ASHANTI
The Ashanti are one of approximately six major ethnic groups constituting the Akan of
Ghana. Other Akan-speaking people are the Fanti, Akwapim, Kwahu, Akim, Bono, and
Agona.
Ashanti, formerly composed of eleven chiefdoms, was unified over three hundred
years ago, and became the most powerful among the Akan states. It reached its peak of
prominence in the seventeenth century during the reign of King Osei Tutu, who died at
the beginning of the eighteenth century. An Ashanti confederacy that was established in
1701 was dissolved by the British in 1900. The British finally colonized the Ashanti in
1901 after several unsuccessful attempts.
The Ashanti region, dubbed the cradle of Ghana’s cultural heritage, is the most
populous of all the ten administrative regions of Ghana. Kumasi, its administrative
capital, is also the seat of Asantehene, the king of the Ashanti. As of 2003, the king of
Ashanti is Otumfuor Osei Tutu II, who ascended to the Golden Stool in 1999, after his
predecessor Otumfuor Opoku Ware II. The official residence of the king is the Manhyia
Palace. Kumasi also houses the Ghana National Cultural Center, where all the cultural
artifacts of the surrounding villages are assembled. Obuasi, 36 miles southwest of
Kumasi is one of the richest gold mines in the world. Bonwire, northwest of Kumasi, is
the home of kente, the gorgeous and intricately woven cloth, a sample of which decorates
the foyer of the United Nations headquarters in New York. Ntonso, 11 miles north of
Kumasi, is the home of the Adinkra cloth, a special tie-and-dyed fabric used for funerals.
Approximately nine miles north of Kumasi is Ahwia, where the world-famous fertility
doll called Akuaba and other woodcarvings are made.
The Ashanti kingdom is composed of a number of different chieftaincies (oman). Each
aman is governed by a chief, omanhene, and a queen mother, ohemmaa, who is generally
the chief’s biological sister or mother. She is expected to advise the chief, and reprimand
him in ways his councelors cannot. When a chief’s stool is vacant, the queen mother
proposes his successor, advising on the successor’s eligibility from the viewpoint of
kinship and character. The queen mother is consulted on matrimonial affairs within the
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royal lineage. She has her own stool, elders, and spokesmen, and she has her own court,
which hears domestic cases and disputes between members of the royal household.
The king is the head of the national council comprising the amanhene. The king,
chiefs, and queen mothers are chosen from particular matrilineages in their towns, which
have the right to provide the ruler. It is from the Ashanti that several ethnic groups in
Ghana borrowed the institution of chieftaincy.
The Ashanti are largely farmers; they occupy mostly equatorial forest land. Their
staple crops are yams, plantains, bananas, yams, cassava, and maize. Other specialist
occupations include woodcarving, metalwork, pottery making, weaving, hunting, and
trading.
The Ashanti believe that a human being is formed from the blood of the mother and
the spirit of the father. This belief reflects the social organization, for two sets of bonds
derive from the conception of procreation, and determine two sets of groupings and
relationships. These are the mother-child bond, and the father-child bond.
The Ashanti have several verbal art forms, including story telling, riddles, praise
poetry, dirges, and proverbs (which are sometimes told competitively). Women’s verbal
art forms include mmobome (sung by women when their men have gone to war), and
nnwonkoro. The Ashanti cherish their history and heritage. They have some of the most
pristine folklore forms, which have not been influenced by modernity.
KWESI YANKAH
HISTORY AND CULTURAL IDENTITY:
THE CHOKWE
On a contemporary map of Central Africa, three national, colonial-drawn borders
artificially cut through the savannahs where the Chokwe (also Cokwe, Tshokwe,
Tutshokwe, Quioco, Bajok) people live in southern Zaire, northeastern Angola, and
northwestern Zambia. Every year, many families, traveling along footpaths to visit
relatives on the other side, cross back and forth across these often invisible boundaries.
Approximately 600,000 Chokwe live in Angola, another 300,000 in Congo (formerly,
Zaire), and 100,000 in Zambia. (See Bastin, 1966). All of these present-day Thuchokwe
(singular Kachokwe) trace their origins to Lunda nobles once living in the Nkalaany
Valley of western Shaba, in today’s Republic of the Congo.
Origin Myth
According to oral history as recounted by Lunda and Chokwe peoples alike, the Lunda
nobles began moving out from the Nkalaany Valley in the sixteenth century when
Chibinda Ilunga, a Muluba hunter from the East, arrived in the Lunda court and married
the Lunda queen, Lweji (Lima 1971, 41–65; de Heusch 1982, 180–82). Discontented
with his rule, the queen’s brothers decided to emigrate. The Lunda diaspora includes the
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following peoples, who all trace their ancestors to these emigrating chiefs: Chokwe,
Minungu, Lwena (also known as Luvale), Luchazi, Songo, Lunda Ndembu, and Lunda of
Kazembe. One of the brothers, Ndumba wa Tembo, settled in Saurimo, Angola, and it
was his maternal nephew, Mwachisenge, who was given the title of supreme chief of the
Chokwe. This same title, “Mwachisenge,” together with a special bracelet (lukano), has
been passed down through the generations from maternal uncle to maternal nephew, as a
sign of the highest chief among the Chokwe. The present-day bearer of the bracelet and
Mwachisenge title lives in Samutoma village, of Shaba province in Congo.
Historical Expansion
The Chokwe have been known throughout history as independent, indomitable warriors,
hunters, and traders. By the eighteenth century, the Angolan Chokwe had established
power over the matrilineal peoples around them and had claimed rights to the farming
and hunting. During the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, the Chokwe were
known as excellent hunters and traders all along the trade route from Central Africa to the
Angolan coast, where they traded with Europeans. They exchanged ivory, wax, and male
slaves for European weapons, mostly guns. In raids on other peoples en route, they
captured the men as slaves and integrated the women and children into Chokwe society
through marriage. Thus they assimilated other peoples and expanded throughout the area.
Not until the 1880s did the Chokwe return to the Congo, when a group of Lunda hired
Chokwe warriors to fight for them in Shaba province. For a brief time, these warriors
gained victories over the Lunda (1880–1887) and thus facilitated the Chokwe expansion
into Shaba as well. The Chokwe continued to expand north and west out of Angola until
the late 1930s (See Miller 1970, 175–201 for Chokwe history).
Village Life and Social Organization
Chokwe independence and ease of assimilating other peoples can be attributed in part to
their political and social organization. Chokwe political power is decentralized. Though
all chiefs recognize the title Mwachisenge as a sign of supreme chieftanship, Chief
Mwachisenge of Samutoma is a ritual chief who has little practical influence over the
lives of Chokwe people beyond his own village.
Chokwe villages are insular, socially cohesive units. Though matrilineal, the women
move to the homes of their spouses after marriage. A group of brothers and maternal
uncles, along with their wives and children, build a village together. Often small, ranging
from forty to eighty people, these villages frequently move their locations in search of
better fishing, hunting, gathering, or farming areas or to escape sorcery accusations or
conflicts with relatives. As subsistence farmers and roaming hunters, the Chokwe are
extremely mobile and thus, of necessity, live in very small villages. This kind of selfsufficiency enables the Chokwe to maintain their language and customs as they move
from one locale to another and from one country to the next. As a consequence, their way
of life survives times of great upheaval and change.
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Folklore and Fame
The Chokwe’s reputation among neighboring groups in Central Africa differs somewhat
from their reputation in the West. Their neighbors know them as great hunters, sorcerers,
diviners, and healers; they both fear their sorcerers and visit their healers. In a similar
vein, Africanist scholars remember the Chokwe for their history as expansionists, for
their assimilation of other peoples along the trade routes of Central Africa. In contrast,
many Westerners, especially art connoisseurs, recognize the Chokwe for their artistic
traditions. They admire the remarkable masks, ancestor figurines, carved chairs, and
divining baskets, which can be viewed in museum displays on African life and art
throughout the world.
Travelers and researchers, from the early 1900s on, have collected and/or documented
Chokwe arts, that is, the more visible, striking features of Chokwe life: the ancestor
figurines (mahamba), carved chairs (yitwamo), and masks (akishi) from the mukanda
initiations (Bastin 1961; Crowley 1975). Early twenty-first-century researchers study
Chokwe life in greater detail, paying attention to local concerns and daily routines; they
document and analyze artistic expression and ritual performances in the contexts of
Chokwe daily life. For example, such studies concern the practices of healers (mbuki),
diviners (tahi), and sorcerers (nganga), and the lives of women and women’s initiation
rites (mwadi) (See Bastin 1982, 1988; Fretz 1987; Jordan 1993; Kubik 1988, 1993;
Sesembe 1981; Yoder 1988).
Unlike these more easily observed and transported objects, the verbal arts have been
minimally described until recent times. For instance, the documents of Chokwe tales
(yishima) from the early 1900s, translated into Western languages such as Portuguese,
lack the vitality and aesthetic qualities of Chokwe storytelling as performed for local
audiences (See Barbosa 1973; Havenstein 1976). Current studies focus on the teller’s
interactions with the audience and record both verbal and nonverbal features of the
performance. Such research includes documentation of both artistic and everyday forms
of speech: for example, narrating and telling proverbs (kuta yishima), indirect speaking
and telling parables (kubwa nyi misende), recounting historical events or recent news
(kulweza sanoo), and “just talking” (kuta pande) (Fretz 1987; 1994; 1995).
Historically, whenever the Chokwe relocated, they carried with them their knowledge
of healing, divining, and sorcery, their renowned abilities in mask making and carving of
ancestral figurines, and their oral tradition as represented by myths, tales, and proverbs.
Thus, they created a web of interconnected traditions that still transcends the colonially
imposed national boundaries. Today, they continue to traverse the borders that separate
their families and clans. However, as the political situations in the Republic of the Congo,
in Angola, and in Zambia shift, the alliances between these neighboring countries change,
often making their journeys more difficult and urgent. Not only do they cross the border
for family visits and for the lucrative diamond trade, but they also escape as refugees
from war-torn areas. In addition, these erstwhile hunters and traders now cross more
intangible, intellectual frontiers through radio broadcasts, education abroad, and
leadership positions in international organizations. As communication with the rest of the
world accelerates, the opportunity for travel beyond their homelands increases for the
more educated and well-connected. Having learned throughout their history to be
resilient, to assimilate other cultures, and to create syncronistic arts, the Chokwe, no
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doubt, will continue to improvise on new experiences and, thereby, both retain and
revitalize their traditions.
References
Barbosa, A. 1973. Folclore angolano, ciquenta cantos quicos, texto bilinque. Luanda: I.I.C.A.
Bastin, Marie-Louise. 1982. La sculpture tshokwe. Translated by J.B. Donne. Arcueil, France:
Offset Arcueil.
——. 1988. “Entites Spirituelles des Tshokwe (Angola).” Cuanderni Poro 5:9–59.
Crowley, Daniel J. 1975. Aesthetic Value and Professionalism in African Art: Three Cases from
the Katanga Chokwe. In The Traditional Artist in African Societies, ed. Warren L.d’Azevedo.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
De Heusch, Luke. 1982. The Drunken King or The Origin of the State, trans. Roy Willis.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Fretz, Rachel I. 1995. Answering in Song: Listener Responses in Yishima Performances. Western
Folklore 9(2):95–112.
——. 1994. Through Ambiguous Tales: Women’s Voices in Chokwe Storytelling. Oral Tradition,
9, no. 1:230–50.
——. 1987. Storytelling among the Chokwe of Zaire: Narrating Skill and Listener Responses.
Ph.D. Dissertation, Folklore and Mythology, UCLA.
Havenstein, A. 1976. Fables et contes anaolais. St Augustin bei Bonn: Verlag des AnthroposInstitus.
Holdredge, Claire Parker, and Kimball Young. 1927. Circumcision Rites among the Bajok.
American Anthropologist n.s. 29:661–9.
Jordan, Manuel. 1993. Le Masque comme processus ironique: Les makishi du Nord-Ouest de la
Zambie. Anthrooolosie et Societe 17, no, 3:41–61.
Kubik, Gerhard. 1981. Mukanda na makishi—Circumcision school and masks—
Bescheidunasschule und Masken. Berlin: Museum fur Volkerkunde, Musikethnologische
Abteilung.
——. 1993. Makisi Nvau Mawiko: Maskentraditionen im bantu-sorachiaen Afrika. Munich:
Trckster Verlag.
Lima, Mesquitela. 1971. Fonctions sociolosiaues des fiaurines de culte “hamba” dans la societe et
dans la culture tshokwe. Luanda: Institute de Investicacao Cientifica de Angola.
McCulloh, Merran. 1951. The Southern Lunda and Related Peoples (Northern Rhodesia, Ancrola.
Belgian Conao). Ethnographic Survey of Africa, West Central Africa, Part I. London:
International African Institute.
Miller, Joseph C. 1970. Cokwe Trade and Conquest in the 19th Century. In Pre-Colonial African
Trade, ed. Richard Gray and David Birmingham. London: Oxford University Press.
——. 1988. Wav of Death: Merchant Capitalism and the Angolan Slave Trade 1730–1830.
Madison: University of Wisconsin Press.
Sesembe, Nange Kudita wa. 1974. Tshikumbi, Tshiwila et Mungonge: Trois rites d’initiation chex
les Tutshokwe du Kasai Occidental. Cultures au Zaire et en Afriaue 5:111–35.
——. 1981. L’homme et la femme dans la society et la culture Chokwe: de l’anthropologie et la
philosophic. Unpublished dissertation. Universite Catholique de Louvain, Louvain-la-Neuve,
Belgium.
Yoder, P.Stanley, 1981. Disease and Illness Among Cokwe: An Ethnomedical Perspective. Ph.D.
Dissertation, Anthropology, UCLA.
RACHEL I.FRETZ
See also Central African Folklore; Myths
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HISTORY
See History and Folklore: The Luba
HISTORY AND FOLKLORE: THE LUBA
The Luba, and neighboring peoples of the southeastern part of the Democratic Republic
of the Congo (formerly Zaire), have a rich heritage of folklore and related oral history,
including epic poetry, proverbs, maxims, king lists, genealogies, migration accounts, and
religious songs. These Luba artistic forms do not exist in isolation, but rather in tandem
with visual arts and performances. The symbiosis of the verbal and the visual deserves to
be better understood because it places African art on the threshold between art history
and literature. Just as stories evoke images, so do objects evoke stories, and creativity
flourishes in this multimedia ferment.
Luba oral literature hinges on an epic that details the origins of Luba sacred kingship.
The epic relates the heroic exploits of the Luba culture hero Moidi Kiluwe, who brought
civilization to Luba people in the form of sacred kingship as well as advanced
technologies of hunting and blacksmithing. His son, Kalala Ilunga, became the first Luba
king after overcoming his tyrannical maternal uncle, Nkongolo Mwamba. Primary
transcriptions of the Luba epic can be found in de Heusch (1982), Mudimbe (1991), and
Reefe (1981), and related stories have been recorded and transcribed by foreigners
(Womersley 1984).
More interesting, however, are the ways that the Luba themselves record and transmit
their histories. So central is the epic to Luba cultural identity that an ingenious mnemonic
device was devised by Luba historians in the last several centuries to safeguard and
transmit the teachings of the past. Called a lukasa, (memory board), it is studded with
beads, shells, and metal pins that serve as reminders to court historians, called “men of
memory,” as they verbally recite the histories of the kingdom on occasions such as kings’
investiture rites, initiations, funerals, and voyages when they accompany rulers (Reefe
1981). Each prominent chieftaincy possesses its own lukasa, and historians from each
region recite the “official” history of the kingdom in a slightly different fashion to reflect
local interests and claims and to accommodate perpetually changing circumstances
(Roberts and Roberts, 1996).
Lukasa memory boards share much in common with a Luba musical instrument called
a kasanji, which looks like a luksasa with keys. Luba titleholders, chiefs, and historians
play tone poems on kasanji; plucked ideophones recall the past and praise the king. The
singing also triggers nostalgia. As one Luba title-holder states, kasanji is like a historical
memorandum, “a whole history can be recounted” (Roberts and Roberts 1996, 144–5;
Gansemans 1980).
Closely related to kasanji, tone poems are clan songs, panegyrics, and eulogies that
laud the deeds and accomplishments of kings, chiefs, and lineage heads, called numbi.
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One particular category of praise poems is called kasala, which are sung to encourage
bravery, express joy, and lead ceremonies to honor the dead (Mufuta 1969). While the
songs are composed of well known verses, there is also considerable improvisation, and
the singer of kasanji “feels…the sentiments of an entire social group” and is “the mirror
of society” (Falk-Nzuji 1974, 48–50).
Many Luba chiefly emblems are used in performative contexts as reminders of royal
history, for they are considered to be sacred replicas of the insignia carried by the
protagonists of the epic. Sculpted wooden spears, staffs, ceremonial axes and knives,
bowstands, stools, and cups were the emblems of the original hunter-blacksmith culture
hero Mbidi Kiluwe, who left them to Kalala Ilunga when the latter acceded to the throne.
During royal investiture rites of the last two hundred years, Luba kings, chiefs, and
dignitaries have incarnated the culture heroes: grip ping the emblems of their forebears,
contemporary rulers enact the sacred origins of kingship (Roberts and Roberts 1999).
Certain types of Luba sculpture are made to evoke particular events and personages in
the Luba epic during dance and other mnemonic performances. A double ended spear, for
example, is a signifier for a historical episode when Nkongolo, the cruel despot,
nefariously invited his nephew, Kalala, to perform a dance for him on a mat that secretly
concealed a pit filled with doubletipped spears. Through a diviner’s prescience, Kalala
was forewarned, and during the dance, a drummer’s tonal beats guided his footsteps
safely across the dance floor to prevent his demise. Today, Luba rulers own such spears,
and Mbudye dancers perform skits that dramatize this episode at public ceremonial
occasions as an iconic reminder of the double-edged nature of authority and the
dynamics, tensions, and paradoxes inherent to power. Through objects and actions,
history is narrated and relived (Roberts and Roberts 1996).
Other kinds of emblems encode local family histories, legitimize descent, and validate
clientele to the kingdom. Many chiefs and dignitaries possess staffs of office that serve
not merely as status emblems but also as sculpted historical narratives. Staffs are used
widely throughout Africa and serve various purposes, from healing to litigation (Nooter
1990; Roberts 1994). A Luba chief will recite the history encoded by his staff whenever
his legitimacy is challenged, or simply as a way to familiarize descendants with their
ancestral past. An historical narrative of such an object can take days or even weeks to
recite, reflecting the depth of historical knowledge that such an object imparts. The staff,
“read” from top to bottom, serves as a kind of three-dimensional map as well as a
repository of spiritual authority (Roberts and Roberts 1996, 162–74).
In addition to oral and sculpted narratives, proverbs are central to Luba life, in both
secular and sacred contexts. They are elicited on many occasions and are prompted by
many visual stimuli. During initiation rites into the Mbudye association, which guards the
precepts and prohibitions of Luba royalty, proverbs are the primary vehicle for
transmission of knowledge. Often a proverb is linked with a visual sign, such as a natural
object, a sculpted figure, or painted wall murals. As the initiate moves down the symbolic
path of knowledge, signs mark the way and stimulate proverbs relating to the importance
of maintaining secrets, for example, by holding on to the rules of Mbudye “as tightly as if
they were flies, without ever letting go” (Nooter 1991).
Luba proverbs also figure in contexts of daily life and quotidian conversation, as well
as during initiation rites for adolescents when boys and girls, respectively, undergo
transformations to mark passage into adulthood. Body arts obtained during such rites,
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such as women’s scarification patterns and male accoutrements and articles of dress that
incorporate beadwork and incised geometric patterns, are mnemonic forms that trigger
proverbs, with attendant commentary, discussion, and debate. Many proverbs express
leadership qualities or assist with gender dynamics and express ideas too political for
direct speech. A common proverb about the dually gendered nature of power states,
“Men are chiefs in the daytime, but women are chiefs at night.”
Finally, “songs for twins” form a critical body of esoteric wisdom among Luba, who
sing on all religious occasions, ranging from funerals, initiations, and investitures to the
night of the new moon each month when villagers rejoice and make offering to their
ancestors (Roberts 1985). The songs for twins, usually sung by groups, are arcane verse
whose references are so powerful that the songs alone can induce a trance. Songs for
twins are sung when diviners or association members enter a state of spirit possession and
personify the spirits of culture heroes past.
References
Faïk Nzuji, Clementine. 1974. Kasala: Chant héroïque Luba. Lubumbashi: Presses Universitaire
du Zaire.
Gansemans, Jos. 1980. Les Instruments de Musique Luba (Shaba, Zaire). Annales du Musée Royal
de I’Afrique Centrale. 103:3–49.
Heusch, Luc de. 1982. The Drunken King, or, The Origin of the State. Bloomington, Indiana
University Press.
Mudimbe, V.Y. 1991 Parables and Fables: Exegesis, Textuality, and Politics in Central Africa.
Madison: University of Wisconsin Press.
Mufuta, Pierre. 1969. Le Chant kasala des Luba. Paris: Juillard, Collection Classiques Africaines.
Nooter, Mary H. 1990. Secret Signs in Luba Sculptural Narrative: A Discourse on Power. Iowa
Studies in African Art, 3:35–60. Iowa City: Project for the Advanced Study of Art and Life in
Africa.
——. 1991. Luba Art and Polity: Creating Power in a Cental African Kingdom. Ph.D. Dissertation,
Columbia University, University Microfilms, Ann Arbor.
Reefe, Thomas Q. 1981. The Rainbow and the Kings: A History of the Luba Empire to 1891.
Berkeley: University of California Press.
Roberts, Allen F. 1985. The Social and Historical Contexts of Tabwa Art. In The Rising of a New
Moon: A Century of Tabwa Art, ed. Allen F. Roberts and Evan Maurer, Seattle: The University
of Washington Press for the University of Michigan Museum of Art.
——. 1994. Staffs of Life: Rods, Staffs, Scepters, and Wands from the Coudron Collection of
African Art. Iowa City: Project for the Advanced Study of Art and Life in Africa and the
University of Iowa Museum of Art.
Roberts, Mary Nooter, and Allen F. Roberts. 1996. Memory: Luba Art and the Making of History.
New York: The Museum for African Art and Prestel.
——. 1999. Anticipation and Longing: Congolese Culture Heroes Past, Present, and Future. In
Tshibumba: Painter of a Cultural Hero Lumumba, ed. Bogumil Jewisewicki. New York and
Munic: Museum for African Art.
Womersley, Harold. 1984. Legends and History of the Luba. Los Angeles: Crossroads Press,
University of California.
MARY NOOTER ROBERTS
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HISTORY AND RELIGIOUS RITUALS:
BEMBA TRADITIONS
The Bemba people live in the great plateau region of northern Zambia. Bemba is one of
six national languages recognized by the government for the production of school texts,
radio and television programming, and literary translations. Because of their language
and historical presence as a power in the region, the Bemba are a major ethnic group in
the country.
Oral traditions locate the origin of the Bemba in the area of present-day Congo
(formerly Zaire), where the Luba live. Their origin myth claims that a chief named
Mukulumpe, who ruled in the land of Luba or Kola, married a magical woman named
Mumbi Mukasa, a member of the crocodile (Ngandu) clan. They had three sons,
Katongo, Chiti, and Nkole, and one daughter, Chilufya. The sons angered Mukulumpe
when they built a large tower that eventually collapsed and killed many people. He had
Katongo’s eyes put out and exiled the other two. Chiti and Nkole took along Chilufya and
three half-brothers named Chimba, Kapasa, and Kazembe. The details of the journey vary
between versions, but the group moved east, crossing the Luapula River, leaving
members of the party in various areas to rule the local people. At the deaths of Chiti and
Nkole, the children of Chilufya became the rightful heirs to the chiefship, thereby
introducing the matrilineal inheritance pattern that exists today. They eventually reached
the places that would become seats of Bemba traditional hegemony, such as the royal
burial grounds at Mwalule and the site of the first paramount chief at Ngwena (Roberts
1973).
Archeological and linguistic research suggests that the Bemba people probably
predated the arrival of the Bena Ngandu chiefs to the area they now rule. Numerous
related ethnic groups do, in fact, have ruling clans that trace themselves back to the
original Bena Ngandu lineage. Evidence from various sources estimates the
establishment of this chiefship among the Bemba some time in the seventeenth century.
The Bemba spread their influence and expanded their polity mainly by military force,
regularly raiding their neighbors’ livestock and fields. Records document nineteenthcentury battles between the Bemba and Fipa, Ngoni, Mambwe, Lungu, Bisa, and Tabwa,
among others.
By the late nineteenth century, several important Bemba chiefs had become involved
in the region’s slave trade. At around the same time, Roman Catholic missionaries of the
White Fathers order tried to extend their influence to the northern Bemba area. At first
rejected by the local chiefs, the Catholic priests were able to take advantage of a complex
and, for the Bemba, deteriorating situation. Pressure from the colonial government, the
British South Africa Company, hostile neighbors such as the Ngoni, and slavetraders
seeking to increase their influence inspired some Bemba chiefs to meet with and test the
intentions of the missionaries.
After the European priests were allowed access to some villages, the formative event
of Bemba-Catholic relations took place upon the death of Chief Mwamba in October
1898. Mwamba actually left the custodianship of his people to Father Dupont, of the
Kayambi mission. While the French priest “ruled” for a fairly short period, his presence
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and negotiations allowed the Bemba to form alliances and pacts that kept their various
chiefdoms from some of the feared social and political upheavals of the period. Although
other Christian missions arrived and made some headway, there remains a particularly
strong tie between the Bemba of chiefs Mwamba, Chitimukulu, and Nkula, and the
Catholic Church.
Religious practices among the Bemba are focused on several common areas. The first
is that ancestors, in particular the spirits of dead chiefs, are regularly venerated and
propitiated. These spirits, known as imipashi (umupashi, s.), are honored during rites
linked to key economic activities such as preparing fields for planting, harvest, fishing,
and hunting. The chief of each Bemba constituency is the ritual leader and plays the key
role on these occasions. At times he has ritual experts (bakabilo) to aid him in these
activities, and, when the rites are more localized for smaller groups or villages, headmen
(bene mushi) also carry out similar tasks.
Throughout the Bemba region, there are locations where powerful nature spirits
(ngulu) reside. These places are generally unusual geological formations or natural
phenomena, such as waterfalls, caves, or large rock outcroppings. These spirits are also
propitiated in conjunction with specific seasonal activities. Here too, the chiefs or their
ritual experts conduct the ceremonies for the welfare of the community. The term ngulu
is also used to label the practice of spirit possession, whereby certain individuals,
sometimes in ceremonies and sometimes spontaneously, become conduits of particular
nature or ancestral spirits.
The intersection of these older forms of worship and control of the spirit world with
imported Christian practices is rather complex. It is common for Christians to participate
in certain localized seasonal practices of communal rites carried out by chiefs and their
surrogates. Christian services regularly employ traditional Bemba musical forms in the
creation and performance of hymns. However, the more that Christianity is combined
with older rites, the more likely it is that these rites will be the practice of syncretic or
apostolic churches rather than that of mainstream Catholic or Protestant congregations.
There is also the tacit recognition of the Bemba spirit called Lesa as the equivalent of the
Christian “God.” While evidence suggests that pre-Christian views of Lesa relegated him
to a relatively ordinary status as one of many spirit beings, over time, Lesa has been
accepted as the creator spirit among Bemba Christians (Maxwell 1983).
A key ritual that is both communal and highly personal is the initiation of girls into
adulthood. There is no comparable rite for Bemba males. The ceremony of female
initiation is called cisungu. In times past, the ceremonies took several months and
required the girls to spend most of that time in rural isolation from the rest of the village
or town. Today, the ceremonies are much shorter and adapted to the needs of
contemporary young women; for example, convenient times are found so that formal
schooling will not be interrupted. Essentially, the initiation is conducted by older,
experienced women (banacimbusa), who are usually also midwives. The ritual employs
the use of symbolic icons or emblems (mbusa) to instruct the candidates in the many
skills and knowledge required of women in Bemba society. Although physical hardship is
a part of the ritual, no form of excision or female circumcision is practiced among the
Bemba (Richards 1988; Corbeil 1982).
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References
Corbeil, J.J. 1982. Mbusa: Sacred Emblems of the Bemba. Mbala, Zambia: Moto-Moto Museum,
and London: Ethnographica, Ltd..
Maxwell, Kevin B. 1983. Bemba Myth and Ritual: The Impact of Literacy on an Oral Culture. New
York: Peter Lang.
Richards, Audrey I. 1956/1988. Chisungu: A Girl’s Initiation Ceremony Among the Bemba of
Zambia. London: Faber and Faber Ltd.; 3rd ed., London: Routledge.
Roberts, Andrew D. 1973. A History of the Bemba: Political Growth and Change in North-eastern
Zambia Before 1900. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press.
ROBERT CANCEL
HOUSING: AFRICAN AMERICAN
TRADITIONS
Between 1505 and 1870, when millions of Africans were captured and transported to the
Americas to toil their lives away as plantation slaves, their cultural habits made the
voyage to the New World along with their bodies. While these people faced oppressive
and exploitive conditions, they nevertheless managed to carry on a wide variety of
expressive forms rooted in African habits. Aspects of language, religious practices,
foodways, and the performing arts, especially in distinctive modes of music, song, dance,
and narration, were widely reported as evidence of the enduring African character of the
enslaved population. But tangible expressions of African tradition such as art, household
objects, clothing, technology, and architecture—indeed, almost any vestiges of material
culture—were rarely mentioned in period descriptions of slave life. This absence can best
be understood in the light of the general policy among slaveholders that held that any
visual reminder of the African homelands constituted a direct threat to their authority and
thus had to be quickly eradicated. An episode at Hopeton Plantation on the Georgia coast
is instructive. There, sometime around 1850, an African man called Okra built a small
house. Mud walled and topped with a thatched roof, it was immediately torn down.
According to former slave Ben Sullivan, plantation owner James Couper “ain’t want no
African hut on he place.”
By the middle decades of the nineteenth century, slave housing was not significantly
different from buildings inhabited by working-class whites. However, during the
formative period of the plantation economy, the presence of African-inspired architecture
was more evident. The retention of African housing was linked ultimately to
demographic dominance. In South Carolina in 1720, for example, Africans outnumbered
white people by a ratio of ten to one. Thus, when a visitor to the colony during that period
remarked that the place “looked more like a negro country than a country settled by white
people,” his assessment probably reflected not only the numbers of Africans that he saw
but the houses that they had necessarily been compelled to build for themselves.
Archaeological investigations at some of those house sites have uncovered the
foundations of the mud walls that outlined rectangular plans measuring not more than 10
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× 21 feet. Assuming that these houses once had thatched roofs, they would resemble not
only the dwelling destroyed by James Couper but buildings that can still be found all
along the Atlantic rim of Africa from Guinea to Angola.
When they were confronted with the pressures of turning a profit from the
undeveloped American wilderness, planters, it seems, allowed their slaves a certain
amount of leeway in their domestic conduct as long as the required tasks were completed.
Expedience on the part of the planters thus provided the slaves with an opportunity to
utilize their African traditions and thus the chance to build what their descendents would
call “ground houses,” that is, dwellings with clay or earthen walls. But once the
plantations were fully operational, say after 1750, planters routinely asserted more direct
control over the daily lives of the slave population. Consequently, from the mideighteenth century onward, African plans and building techniques (as well as other
African customs) were systematically suppressed, and African American houses became
nothing more than variants of the most typical kinds of Euro-American houses.
While the continuity of African architectural traditions was ultimately disrupted in the
United States, the saga of the ubiquitous houses known as “shotguns” offers an instance
of a subtle, but ultimately profound, African influence on American vernacular
architecture. The shotgun house type, which developed in Haiti as an amalgam of Native
American, European, and African influences and then entered the United States through
New Orleans in the early nineteenth century, has had a lasting impact on the American
South. Today, thousands of shotgun houses can be found throughout the region. The
basic shotgun house is a one-story building that is long and narrow; it is one-room wide
and three or more deep. Unlike most American folk houses, the shotgun is oriented with
its gable to the front and has its entrance in the gable end rather than on the longer side.
This formal difference should be read as a sign of the building’s alternative history.
Shotgun houses in the United States are descended from small rural Haitian houses
called cailles. Known on the island of Hispaniola since the early sixteenth century, they
were generally constructed with walls of woven lath that were plastered with mud; their
roofs were made either of thatched grass or palm leaves. In plan, the house consisted of
two rooms and had its front door located at the narrow gable end of the building. The
gable entrance of this dwelling is a feature that finds its precedent in the houses of the
Arawaks, the indigenous people of Haiti, while its construction techniques show clear
linkages to northern France, the homeland of the colonial class (although parallels can be
found in Africa as well). The aspect of this house that connects most deeply with African
architectural practices are its dimensions; rooms are small, containing, generally, slightly
more than 80 square feet of floor space. This average size compares closely with the
average room sizes in West and Central African houses, which commonly range between
8×8 feet and 12× 12 feet. Since the room units in Euro-American folk houses are
generally 250 square feet or larger, the Haitian shotgun prototype aligns most closely
with the African size spectrum.
The consistent use of particular dimensions indicates that a discrete proxemic code,
the most central element of any architectural tradition, had made the voyage across the
Atlantic from Africa intact. What we see in the intimate spaces of Haitian houses is that
African architectural influences flow directly to Haiti with the trade in slaves. Then, after
a period of encounter with other equivalent traditions, a new house form evolves and
becomes commonplace. One could say that a core concept for an African building is
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provided with a new exterior. The resulting building, a Creolized architectural form, is
then carried on to North America in yet another migration and eventually becomes a
distinctive marker of southern identity. While the African attributes of the shotgun house
are no longer widely acknowledged, it is, nonetheless, a building with African roots, and
its history reveals much about the tenacity of African traditional culture.
References
Ferguson, Leland. 1992. Uncommon Ground: Archaeology and Early African America, 1665–
1800. Washington D.C.: Smithsonian Press.
Georgia Writer’s Project. 1940. Drums and Shadows: Survival Studies Among the Georgia Coastal
Negroes. Athens: University of Georgia Press.
Vlach, John Michael. 1976. The Shotgun House: An African Architectural Legacy. Pioneer
America 8, no. 1:47–56; 8, no. 2: 57–70.
Wood, Peter H. 1974. Black Majority: Negroes in Colonial South Carolina from 1670 through the
Stono Rebellion. New York: W.W.Norton.
JOHN MICHAEL VLACH
HUNTING: AKA NET HUNTING
Community net hunting was traditionally practiced by a variety of ethnic groups across
the central African forests and savannas. Few agriculturalists continue to net hunt today,
and the practice is associated principally with ethnic groups such as the Mbuti in the
Democratic Republic of the Congo (Ichikawa 1983; Turnbull 1961) and the Aka in the
Central African Republic and the Democratic Republic of the Congo (Bahuchet, 1985).
Techniques vary somewhat among ethnic groups, but, in general, net hunting is a
community activity involving people of all ages and both sexes. Among the Aka in
southwestern Central African Republic, infants are carried by their mothers, and children
begin to actively contribute as young as five years of age. The number of participants
ranges from less than ten to over one hundred.
Women generally outnumber men, and occasionally, a net hunting group comprises
only women. Among the Aka both women and men beat and guard nets, whereas sex
roles are more strict in Mbuti net hunts where the women beat while the men carry and
guard the nets.
The number of nets ranges from five to more than twenty. Aka nets measure 3.2 by 4.9
feet in height and 16 to 131 feet in length. Mbuti nets are up to 320 feet long. Net twine is
made from the cambium fiber of the woody vine kosa (Manniophyton fulvum). Wooden
hooks at each end fix the net to small trees or vines, the top of the net is hooked on other
vegetation, and the bottom is pegged to the ground.
The Aka generally form a closed circle of nets (dibouka) around a promising patch of
forest, with a circumference of only 984 feet. The hunters communicate by means of
hiqh-pitched calls and whistles as they set the nets, consistently accomplishing the
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remarkable feat of closing a circle of nets in dense forest vegetation without being able to
see the other members of the hunting party. Immediately upon finishing, the net carriers
begin searching the enclosed area, beating leaves, and shouting to drive animals from
their hiding places. The other participants remain near the nets to spot flushed animals, to
frighten them into the nets, and then to seize them before they can escape. Each round of
setting the nets, driving, and moving to the next
Ba Aka net hunting, Dzanga Sangha
Special Dense Forest Preserve, Central
African Republic. Photo © Hal Noss,
www.halnoss.com.
site takes only 10 to 15 minutes. In contrast, Mbuti net hunters generally set the nets
describing an arc up to 0.93 miles long, begin the drive up to 0.6 miles away, and a day’s
hunting comprises four to eight casts.
In Aka mulongo net hunting, the participants depart from their village in the morning
and return in the evening. These hunts usually begin 2 to 2.5 miles, or one hour’s walk,
from the community and cover several kilometers during the ten to thirty casts of the
nets. Hunters frequently leave their nets in the forest where the day’s hunt ends in order
to resume the following day’s hunt at that point. The nets are rolled and tied to the top of
a pole, with a covering of leaves to shed rain. Net hunting also takes place from seasonal
and mobile forest camps (kumbi) that can last from several days to several months.
Aka nets are owned by both women and men. A captured animal is the property of the
net owner (konja), even if that person is not present. However, the head of the animal
belongs to the person who sets the net, while the ribs and belly belong to the person who
first seizes the animal. These sharing rules reinforce cooperation during net hunting and
reflect the cooperative nature of Aka society, providing meat to participants who are not
net owners.
The leader of the net hunt is always a man, unless only women are participating. This
person is one of the first to leave the settlement, choosing the starting and ending points
for the day’s hunt. Once the hunt begins, the leader may determine the general direction
of the hunt and may identify likely places to set the nets, but other hunters frequently take
over these responsibilities as the hunt flows quickly through the forest.
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The leader may call for a rest during the day, particularly in order to attribute blame if
the hunt is unsuccessful. The group then identifies a man who has slept with his wife the
previous day, or whose wife is pregnant, or a women in the early stages of pregnancy.
This person must remain behind the hunting group until something is captured. The death
of a person from the community also is a cause for poor hunting success, and net hunting
is suspended for several days. A forest camp where someone dies is abandoned, and
hunters avoid areas where people are buried.
Rituals
Rituals associated with net hunts are no longer commonly practiced, particularly
during mulongo (day) hunts. However, on occasion before the hunt, hunters will rub
Ba Aka net hunting, Dzanga Sangha
Special Dense Forest Preserve, Central
African Republic. Photo © Hal Noss,
www.halnoss.com.
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leaves and spit on their nets while imitating the cry of a captured duiker in order that their
net will kill “meat.” The blood of a captured animal will also be spilt on a net that has not
captured anything for some time. Also for luck, hunters will make a loud popping noise
by clapping one hand down on a leaf placed over their other fist before taking down nets
left in the forest overnight.
Before a kumbi net hunt, the camp leader may arise before dawn and, from the edge of
camp, call out the names of the animals of the forest while the other camp members echo
him from their huts. Then, before the hunt, the leader will take each net, rub leaves and
spit on it, while again calling the names of the animals. The hunters may also conduct a
small dance before the hunt, following one hunter, who is holding a hoop decorated with
leaves as he dances and weaves and imitates the calls of the hunt.
The jengi dance is performed in Aka communities to bring good luck to net hunters
(Bahuchet 1985; Sarno 1993). The jengi is a forest spirit in a large raffia mask. Only men
may touch him, and they form a protective circle between the jengi and the dancing
women, circling the drummers. The jengi periodically runs off into the forest and then
returns as the dance continues through the night, every night for several weeks or more.
Prey
Net hunts are selective in capturing small terrestrial mammals such as duikers and
porcupines. Aka net hunts capture, on average, eight animals per day, whose total body
weight averages 101 pounds. Larger animals are rarely encountered, as the noise of the
hunting group warns them away, and in any case, they can tear through or jump over the
nets to escape. Whether or not animals are killed, most participants return with some
forest products for consumption or sale: several kinds of edible nuts such as payo,
caterpillars, at least thirty species of edible mushrooms, numerous fruits, wild yams,
honey from six species of bees, edible koko leaves, and ngongo leaves for wrapping or
roofing.
The net hunters’ prey species are the most abundant terrestrial mammals and generally
the most resilient to hunting pressure. Combined with settlement mobility throughout
extensive hunting ranges, traditional net hunting has been, therefore, ecologically
sustainable. Thus, protected areas such as the Dzanga-Sangha Special Reserve in
southwestern Central African Republic permit net hunting as a traditional hunting method
practiced for subsistence purposes.
Growth of urban centers and the development of transportation links, however has
reinforced the importance of commercial meat production through net hunting among the
Mbuti (Hart 1978) as well as the Aka. Initially, market hunting may reinforce community
structure as cooperation among large numbers of participants is essential for successful
net hunting. But in the long run, bush-meat markets are in many ways detrimental to nethunter societies. The demand for meat in large urban centers far surpasses the relatively
small resident population’s consumption needs, and net hunters have intensified their
hunting efforts. In recent years, hunting ranges have been reduced by logging and
agricultural colonization of African forest regions, by permanent settlement of previously
mobile populations, by population growth of resident populations, and even by the
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creation of national parks. Game populations decline in the face of increased hunting
pressure.
Other hunting methods that are more effective in producing meat for commercial ends
and in areas with less abundant game are replacing nets. For example, cable snares
capture larger animals, and captures belong to the individual hunter, resulting in
considerably higher returns (in meat or cash) per hunter. For these reasons, agriculturalist
ethnic groups in the Central African Republic like the Banda (whose name means “net”),
Ngando, and Ngbaka abandoned net hunting decades ago. As Aka men are presently
switching from nets to cable snares, Aka women today hunt more often than men, and net
hunts include more women than men. In this form, net hunting remains an effective
hunting method that provides a variety of subsistence and commercial resources,
including meat, and that serves to maintain Aka society and identity as people of the
forest.
References
Bahuchet, S. 1985. Les pygmees Aka et la foret Centrafricaine: ethnologie ecologique. Paris:
Societe d’Etudes Linguistiques et Anthropologiques de France.
Hart, J.A. 1978. From Subsistence to Market: a Case Study of the Mbuti Net Hunters. Human
Ecology 6:325–53.
Ichikawa, M. 1983. An Examination of the Hunting-dependent Life of the Mbuti Pygmies, Eastern
Zaire. African Study Monographs 4:55–76.
Sarno, L. 1993. Song from the Forest: My Life among the Ba-Benjelle Pygmies. Boston: Houghton
Mifflin.
Turnbull, C.M. 1961. The Forest People. London: Chatto and Windus.
ANDREW J.NOSS
See also Central African Folklore
HUTU
See Folktales; Rwanda
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I
IBIBIO
See Drama: Anang Ibibio Traditional Drama; Puppetry; Verbal Arts: The Ibibio of
Southeastern Nigeria; West Africa: Overview
IDENTITY AND FOLKLORE: KUNDA
The Kunda of Zambia are a polity of approximately 35,000 Bantu-speaking people in the
central Luangwa River valley. They are a group distinct from the Chikunda of the
Zambezi River valley. The Kunda of Zambia claim some ancestral relation with the
Kunda polities of the Congo basin, but they have no practical affiliation with those
peoples within historical memory.
Kunda lore, or “folk knowledge,” is best characterized by the idiomatic term,
makhalidwe wa Akunda, which translates as “Kunda ways of staying.” Makhalidwe wa
Akunda refers to the widest variety of knowledge-based practices among Kunda people
by which they survive politically, maintaining the identity and integrity of the polity, and
survive as people in a biological sense. Kunda folk teaching collapses biology and
politics so that a person who survives biologically in Kunda country, or is born of Kunda
parents, necessarily has a Kunda political identity. Many Kunda people will even say that
the real objective of knowing these “Kunda ways of staying” is mphamvu kukhoka
wanthu, or the “power to gather people”: that is, the power to increase the polity and its
family lineages. In the Kunda idiomatic universe, political power and the physical power
of bodies are constituent products of practices of knowing.
There is no noun for knowledge in Kunda language. There is only the verb “to know”
(kudziwa), and its affiliate wisdom or intelligence (nzeru). By Kunda idiomatic practice a
Kunda person cannot know an abstract thing called knowledge. Kunda knowing is always
active. Kunda people always know how to do some action (ncito, or a “job”), which is
enacted for the results it has. Kunda knowing also always is “owned” by its practitioner,
and the ones who taught it to him/her. All ways of staying that Kunda people know, they
know because those ways of staying make survival possible, and because an elder who
practiced that knowledge before told it to them. That action is told only to members of
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one’s own lineage because it enhances the chances of survival for their lineage. It is
usually guarded knowledge, kept from other lineages who may be in direct competition
with one’s own lineage for survival. The dynamic interrelations between group identity
and the management of knowledge is crystallized in a proverb well known to most Kunda
people: “Chikumo chimodzi sichitola sabwe,” whic h translat es as “One thumb cannot
pick a louse.”
Kunda people describe the very real sense in which all acts of knowing accumulate
people and power to the owners of practical knowledge. There is nothing known to
Kunda people which falls outside of Kunda ways of staying, except the ways of staying
of other people—actions which build alliances with and substantiate non-Kunda political
entities. Kunda elders advise young people that the most important thing about staying
well is to follow ones’ lineage elders with respect (kukhonka mokolo), following the
things that they know to do and for the results they produce for their lineage. No two
family lineages know the exact same variety of “jobs,” but there are a few things that
most all Kunda lineages do know: Kunda etiquette, proverbs (miyambo), some folk songs
(visimi), some stories (mbili), which illustrate or enact the primary importance of Kunda
lineages and the need to substantiate the power of elders and chiefs in order to maintain
control of Kunda country.
References
Boone, Olga. 1961. Carte Ethnique du Congo: Quart Sud-est. Tervuren, Belgium: Musée Royal de
l’Afrique Centrale.
Kumakanga, Stevenson L. 1975. Nzeru za Kale (Wisdom from Long Ago) (1949). Blantyre,
Malawi: Dzuka.
Mwale, E.G. 1952. ZaAchewa. London: Macmillan.
Poole, E.H.Lane. 1949. Native Tribes of the Eastern Province of Northern Rhodesia: Notes on their
Migrations and History, 3rd ed. Government of Northern Rhodesia.
Strickland, Bradford. 1995. Knowledge, Agency, and Power among the Kunda of Eastern Zambia,
Ph.D. Dissertation, Chapel Hill, North Carolina.
Sumbwa, Nyambe. 1993. Zambian Proverbs. Lusaka: Zambia Printing.
BRADFORD STRICKLAND
See also History and Cultural Identity: The Chokwe; Central African Folklore:
Overview
IDEOPHONE
The ideophone (idea-phone), first defined in C.M.Doke’s Bantu Linguistic Terminology
as “a vivid representation of an idea in sound” (1935, 118), is a form of expressive
vocabulary that is very prominent in African language usage. Lists of several thousand
ideophones in a given language may readily be compiled and they may comprise a
quarter or more of the words in a dictionary. They are used with great frequency and
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effectiveness both in the ordinary language of daily conversation and in the dramatic
style of oral art (Samarin 1965, 117).
Ideophones are a class of words that represent the full range of sensual experience
including sound, sight, smell, taste, and feeling. Not only do they imitate noises
(onomatopoeia), they also express action and motion; they portray color, odor and
texture; and they reveal manner, intensity and emotion.
In the speech of the Gbaya people of Cameroon and the Central African Republic,
bababa depicts the determined tread of an old man, títítítí* reveals someone running on
tiptoes, volok-volok is the bounding gait of a hungry hyena, hóng-hong-hóng is the distant
baying of dogs, béréng is the color of the reddish horizon as the sun sets, wékéké is the
emptiness of an abandoned village, sélélé is the silence of a peaceful night, pirrr is the
fluttering of a little bird’s wings, and faa-faa are the measured wing-beats of a great bird
of prey.
Speakers may use ideophones to reveal their attitude toward what they are describing.
A tall lissome maiden may be presented goyєє in all her beauty, the delicate mouth of an
infant may be admired by comparing it to the little round mouth búδúk of a certain small
white and highly esteemed fish. The speaker may also use ideophones pejoratively and
for making insults: a person’s disheveled hair is wasa-wuzu, someone’s bloodshot eyes
might be likened to the eyes of the weaverbird that are bright red, kéréré.
Ideophones may sometimes be identified as a distinct class of words by their
phonemes. Sounds that are not otherwise found in the lexicon of a language often feature
as part of ideophone patterns. Many ideophones have simple syllable structure that lends
itself to lengthening or repetition. In doubled and tripled forms there may be alternation
of consonants or of vowels. In some languages ideophones are set apart by special
markers; in other languages they take very minimal grammatical marking. Their function
in a sentence is usually to describe action or objects, and sometimes in elliptical manner
they may replace a noun or a verb. Not infrequently there is a derivational relationship
between ideophones and nouns and verbs (Cameroon Pidgin English: chuk “to pierce, to
stab”; chuku-chuku “thorn”; chuku-chuku beef “porcupine”).
The most distinguishing feature of ideophones is their especially close relationship of
sound and meaning (Okpewho 1992, 92–96). For example, the lengthening of a final
vowel or nasal sound reflects duration while repetition denotes repeated action (Sango:
ngbiii “for a while”; ngbi ngbi ngbi “again and again”). Repetition may also indicate
intensity (Fula: cúb “early”; cúb-cúb “very early”). Tone variation often distinguishes
size and weight: a high tone identifies something small and light in weight and
*Acute accent mark indicates high tone.
the same form in low tone depicts something that is big and heavy. By extension what is
small and light may appear to be insignificant while the big and heavy is important and
even dangerous.
However, associations of sound with meaning vary across language and culture. Thus,
to be snow-white is rendered in Gbaya as ndáká-ndáká and in Xhosa and Zulu as qhwa;
in Hausa whiteness is qualified as fat or kal and in Swahili as pe. A rooster crows
ghukughúkúu! in Gikuyu of Kenya, in Kinyarwanda of Rwanda it crows kokoyíkúu! and
in Gã of Ghana it crows kokotsíokóo!
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Ideophones are an important feature of aesthetic expression for the artist (Finnegan
1970, 64–65). Indeed, the eloquence of oral performers may be judged by their creative
manipulation of ideophones. In a short lyric, the Cameroonian poet Dogobadomo Beloko
adopts ideophones to sing the praises of Hare, a favorite Gbaya folktale character who
often represents the cleverness of the underdog:
Lémté
Lémté
Guwang guwang
Guwang guwang
Gu guwang
Gu guwang
Máá-yi kó Domo,
The running of Rabbit,
Domo ãã sí-í!
There goes Rabbit!
Lénné depicts Hare’s long ears laid back on his head as he bursts into sudden flight.
Guwang guwang gu guwang is his loping gait as he runs off in the distance confident that
he is out of the reach of his pursuers. When guwang is used singly, it may describe a
gentle fall of something like a young sapling when it is cut down or when the wind blows
it over.
An ideophone may be a key word in riddles and proverbs. In southern Cameroon
Haaa! is a one-word riddle. It is an ideophone that represents the satisfied exclamation of
a drinker after taking a large swig of strong liquor. The answer to the riddle is therefore
“local home brew.”
Ideophones are often considered to be a feature of oral language. Some people suggest
that they can be coined at the whim of the speaker. Perhaps it would be more accurate to
say that there is a reservoir of sound symbolic shapes from which the artist can draw to
create new ideophones. Nevertheless, the precision of meaning that is given to
ideophones in usage is evidence for their stability in each language community. Like any
other words, they may be borrowed and transmitted from language to language through
the vicissitudes of history and culture. They are found even in the newly developing
forms of pidgin and creole languages of Africa’s rapidly growing cities (e.g., in Sheng of
the Streets of Nairobi: “mos-mos” is slowly and “chap-chap” is quickly). A streetwise
young man is called a “san-san boy” in the Pidjin English of Cameroon.
For the linguist and literary scholar the semantics of ideophones may appear to be
ambiguous and elusive. For the translator they present a quandary. Can their meanings be
transferred into languages that make little use of ideophones, or should they simply be
transcribed and retained in translation? Extensive recording and analysis of ideophones
and ideophone usage is needed before their semantics and aesthetics will be fully
understood.
References
Doke, C.M. 1935. Bantu Linguistic Terminology. London: Longmans Green.
Finnegan, Ruth. 1970. Oral Literature in Africa. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Noss, Philip A. 1972. “Gbaya Tales,” in African Folklore, ed. R.M. Larson. Bloomington, Ind.
Indiana University Press.
Okpewho, Isidore. 1992. African Oral Literature. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
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Samarin, W.J. 1965. “Perspective on African Ideophones.” African Studies 24:117–121.
Voeltz, F.K.Erhard and Christa Kilian-Hatz, eds. Ideophones. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 2001.
PHILIP A.NOSS
See also Folktales; Gestures in African Oral Narratives; Oral Performance
Dynamics
IGBO
See Visual Arts: Uli Painting of the Igbo; West African Folklore: Overview
IJO
See Oral Tradition and Oral Historiography; Water Ethos: The Ijo of the Niger
Delta; West Africa: Overview
INDEXES: MOTIF AND TALE-TYPE
See Typology and Performance in the Study of Prose Narratives in Africa
INDIAN OCEAN ISLANDS: THE
PROCESS OF CREOLIZATION
There are several islands and island groups in the Indian Ocean that share an intriguing
history of settlement, bringing together African, Asian, and European peoples and
traditions. Embodying the very definition of creolization, the folklore and arts of these
settlers reflect, in varying combinations, their diverse roots stemming from different
countries, ethnic groups, and periods of migration. Each has its own signature history and
cultural configuration, so they will be discussed serially, beginning with the Comoros
Islands, then moving to Seychelles, Mauritius, Réunion, and finally “the big island,”
Madagascar.
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Four green volcanic islands, lying between Mozambique and Madagascar, make up
the Comoros archipelago: Anjouan (Nzwani), Grande Comore (Ngazidja), Mohéli
(Mwali), and Mayotte (Maoré, a “territorial collectivity” of France). The population
numbers about half a million people of African extraction, whose forebears intermarried
with Malagasy, Arabs, and Persians. The culture is a unique combination of African and
Islamic traditions, which are transmitted to the young by grandparents and Quranic
teachers. In this archipelago, to which repeated coups d’état and uprisings (1989, 1992,
1995, and 1997) have failed to bring prosperity, unemployment is high, and prices of
staples continually rise. Tourism is negligible despite an agreeable climate, beautiful
beaches, and robust dance traditions. All the islands, especially the underpopulated
Mohéli, have breathtaking agricultural potential.
The folklore of the Comoros blends African traditions with an ideological stress on
Islam. It includes heroic recitations by royal reciters, legends of Quranic figures and
djinns (spirits), and oral history connecting the islands to King Solomon. Place legends
feature the active volcano Karthala on Grande Comore, whose 1977 eruption buried most
of the village of Singani. One major narrative genre is the hadisi (from Arabic hadith,
“the words of and about the Prophet”), which includes historical legends and sacred
narratives secularized. The subgenre wana hadisi, “anecdote,” combines humor with an
initiatory function, for instance, to impart sexual education to a woman about to be
married. The other major narrative genre, sometimes scorned as childish, is hale, a lie or
fiction told at evening. In purportedly historical stories, the two genres overlap,
paralleling similar genres in East Africa and Madagascar. Proverbs have much force;
riddles show more influence of modern times than the other genres.
Folktales have been extensively collected on Mayotte by Noël Gueunier and Sophie
Blanchy. Michael Lambek has analyzed spirit narratives in Mayotte. Mohéli and Anjouan
await careful research, particularly on the practices surrounding the central Comoran
custom of grand manage (the big marriage).
The Seychelles archipelago is located north-northeast of Madagascar in the Indian
Ocean. Settlement and creolization began in the late eighteenth century, with the
importation by European planters of African slaves to work their cotton plantations. A
century later, nearly all of the 20,000 Seychellois were of African descent. Around that
time, Indian merchants immigrated from Bombay, Gujarat, and Kutch, and a few Chinese
also settled there. Today the 68,932 people of Seychelles, a mixture of Asians, Africans,
and Europeans who speak both English and kreol, recognize no ethnic division and
constitute a true creole society. Their African and Malagasy cultural patterns give their
islands a cultural profile quite distinct from that of Reunion or Mauritius. Tourism is a
key source of revenue.
As in East Africa, separate spheres for men and women harbor separate kinds of the
folklore. Women’s activities are concentrated in the household, men’s, at places of work
and recreation. “Thus, from an early stage, men’s recreational and social activities take
place away from the household, on the football field, at a dance, at the toddy seller’s on
the road. They come home to eat and sleep but not to socialize” (Benedict 1982, 263).
Weddings and dances are both occasions for communication and subjects for folklore.
Traditional music exists side by side with imported “world music” on cassette. In dance,
the traditional moutia coexists with the Mauritian séga and other regional forms.
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Proverbs, riddles, games, and folktales show the African origin of many Seychellois.
Pirate legends reflect the island’s history and attract treasure hunters. As well as
practicing Christian religion, many people maintain beliefs in witchcraft or sorcery:
grigri, malfezans, or pti talber. With her cards or fortune-telling book, a bonnfamm dibwa
can find out who is responsible for misfortune or illness. Government policy encourages
the preservation and presentation of material culture and ethnobotany, as well as
collecting and publishing of folklore and literature in creole and sponsoring a “Festival
Kreol.” The Institi Kreol incites Seychellois to elaborate and improve their oral tales in
writing.
Mauritius, a long-uninhabited island of 2,040 square kilometers located 559 miles east
of Madagascar in the Indian Ocean, houses strands of population reflecting successive
colonization by Holland, France, and Britain. From about 1735, France imported slaves
from Portuguese East Africa and Madagascar to work its sugar plantations. After Britain
took over in 1815 and abolished slavery in 1835, the planters were obliged to import
indentured laborers from India to succeed the slaves. Thousands of freed slaves went east
to the island of Rodgrigues; most remained to make up the “creole” strand of the
population. Other ethnicities include the Indo-Mauritian descendents of indentured
laborers (much subdivided), Hakka-speaking Chinese, and a few Franco-Mauritians.
Independent since 1968, Mauritius is proud of this “rainbow” of cultures, a diversity that
fosters a capacity for crossing cultural boundaries and participating in other people’s
traditions.
Paradoxically Mauritius acquires its folkloric image through the preromantic novel
Paul et Virginie (1787) by the Frenchman Bernardin de St. Pierre. Meanwhile, the
diverse populations nurture distinct traditions. Well-known African tales were collected
by Charles Baissac, a Creole who recognized his people’s ability for cultural
convergence.
Mauritian folk religion is a unique amalgam. Tamils and Telugus, though speaking
different languages from North Indians, share Hinduism with them. At home, Telugus
practice panHindu festivals yet maintain their distance from other groups. Tamil temples
house black stone images identified as the Catholic Saint Theresa and Virgin Mary.
Creole Catholics of African extraction practice Indian rites; self-identified Hindus and
Muslims go as pilgrims to the grave of Père Laval, a nineteenth-century French Catholic
missionary. Religious symbols in the home, women’s clothes, ornaments, ritual costume,
and special foods remind people of their ethnic affiliations. Today the rapid pace of
modernization and the prosperity of the country offer still more choices and pose the
question of how traditions shall be evaluated.
The spectacular volcanic island of La Reunion lies 497 miles east of Madagascar, part
of the archipelago of the Mascareignes (including Mauritius), a French possession since
1638. At that time it was named He Bourbon and had a mixed population of Europeans
and Malagasy slaves. With the cultivation of coffee in 1725 it became a plantation
society that engendered slave escapes; with the introduction of sugar (1815), numbers
increased, notably the region’s only population of poor whites; with the abolition of
slavery in 1848, the island acquired Indian indentured laborers. Because so many were
Muslims, these acquired the creole name Zarab. The island suffered poverty and neglect
until becoming an overseas department of France in 1946.
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As would be expected in a Creole society, folklore in La Reunion is created out of the
convergence of Africans, Malagasy, French, and Indians. The importance of proverbs
there seems to be a Malagasy contribution. A university project in the 1970s collected
dozens of tales. It revealed virtuosic performers among the poor whites, the most
condemned of the island’s groups, who preserve French tales. Réunionnais of African
and Malagasy background know African animal stories and trickster tales pitting the
clever hero Ti Zan against the ogre Gran Dyab. Indian religious narratives are performed
in creole during festivals.
Folk religion in this nominally Catholic island nourishes werewolf and Evil Eye
beliefs, traditional cults like Saint Expédit (known also in the Caribbean), and practices
like the promès, a vow made in exchange for a hoped-for cure or success. At the kavadi
festival, Indo-Réunionnais undergo ordeals to thank the deity for granting such favors.
The Afro-Malagasy strand of Réunion’s Creole tradition awaits systematic study.
Madagascar, the world’s fourth-largest island (227–208 square miles), was settled by
waves of Malayo-Polynesian migrants. Malagasy culture results from a fusion of
Indonesian and Swahili (East African) traditions. One result is a broad ethnic division
between highlanders of predominantly Malayo-Indonesian origin (Merina with a
population of 1,643,000; Betsileo, 760,000) and coastal people of mixed African,
Malayo-Indonesian, and Arab ancestry (Betsimisaraka 941,000; Tsimihety 442,000;
Antaisaka 415,000; Sakalava 374,000). The eighteen ethnic groups speak dialects of a
common language. Another result, enhanced by the isolation of a huge island, is a unique
folk culture linked to the Comoros Islands to the north but quite distinct from Africa only
249 miles to the west.
The earliest narrative to be recorded is a myth of the origin of social classes, published
by the French colonist Flacourt in 1658. As the British began to impose themselves on
Madagascar from 1820 and their Protestant missionaries started schools, examples of the
haunting hainteny (art of speech) of the highland Merina were published. One newly
literate Merina wrote an epic version of the popular hero tale, “Ibonia” about 1830.
Systematic collecting began only after missionaries had been expelled in 1836 and then
readmitted in 1869. In their Antananarivo Annual (1875–1900) they published tales,
legends, proverbs, riddles, customs, and ethnographic observations. The classic Merina
collection is Lars Dahle’s Specimens of Malagasy Folklore (1877); other collections
followed, notably among the Sakalava and Bara. Proverbs impart values such as the
prestige of the dead and a fear of isolation: “Even the dead like to be many.” Thousands
of Malagasy proverbs have been collected and translated, leading to the conclusion that
eloquence is prized here as much as in West Africa. After French conquest of
Madagascar in 1896, Jean Paulhan’s translations of Merina hainteny in 1913 drew
attention to folk poetry. This genre uses riddlelike form and metaphor in a stylized verbal
duel. Other observers recorded samples of oratory at weddings and funerals, which
confirmed the high place of verbal eloquence and raising questions of gender attribution.
Madagascar’s folk culture is both diverse and unified. The African influence is
discernible in cotton spinning, millet cultivation, musical instruments like the scraper, the
rattle, and the earth bow, social patterns like the all-important reverence for ancestors,
and tales of African origin. Islam introduced writing. European influence, intensifying as
Britain and France vied for control of the island through the nineteenth century, brought
the Roman alphabet and literacy as well as firearms and provoked an ironic legend in
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which the presence of colonists is inflicted on Malagasy because a taboo was broken. The
Indonesian heritage persists, as P. Beaujard has shown in his studies of folk narrative
among the Tanala (Forest People). The uniqueness of the mix is offered by P. Ottino as a
stimulus to cultural research. Assessment of published folktales revealed some four
hundred independent plots not known outside of Madagascar and at least sixty-five
versions of internationally known folktale types.
References
Allaoui, Masséande Chami. 1997. Genres of Comoran Folklore, trans. Lee Haring. Journal of
Folklore Research 34:45–57.
Beaujard, Philippe. 1991. Mythe et société à Madagascar (Tanala de l’Ikongo): Le chasseur
d’oiseaux et la princesse du ciel. Paris: L’Harmattan.
Blanchy, Sophie, and Zaharia Soilihi. 1991. Furukombe et autres contres de Mayotte=Furukombe
na hadisi za hale zangina za Maore. Paris: Éditions Caribéennes.
Carayol, Michel. 1980. La littérature orale réunionnaise. In Encyclopedic de la Reunion, vol. 7.
Saint-Denis.
Carayol, Michel, and Robert Chaudenson. 1979. Contes créoles de l’Océan Indien. Fleuve et
Flamme. Paris: Conseil International de la Langue Française.
Gueunier, Noël J., ed. and trans. 1994. L’oiseau chagrin: contes comoriens en dialecte malgache de
l'île de Mayotte. Compilers Noël J.Gueunier and Madjidhoubi Said. Paris: Peeters.
Haring, Lee. 1991. Prospects for Folklore in Mauritius. International Folklore Review pp. 83–95.
Haring, Lee. 1992. Verbal Arts in Madagascar. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press.
——. 1994. Ibonia, Epic of Madagascar. Lewisburg: Bucknell University Press.
Koechlin, B., ed. 1984. Les Seychelles et l’Océan Indien. Paris: Presses Universitaires d’AixMarseille/Editions l’Harmattan.
Sussman, Linda K. 1980. Herbal Medicine on Mauritius. Ethnopharmacology 2:259–78.
Zistwar ek sedmo sesel. Contes, devinettes, et jeux de mots des Seychelles. 1983. Paris: Éditions
Akpagnon.
LEE HARING
See also French Study of African Folklore; Madagascar
INITIATION
The term initiation evokes rites of passage, especially those that frame the passage from
childhood to adulthood, leading to the integration of the young individuals into the social
group. These rituals still play an important role in many traditional African societies.
They deal with a specific age-group and take place at a critical time in the development
of the individual who undergoes a process of psychological, intellectual, and physical
transformation. Adolescents tends to challenge, indeed to reject, the models that society
tries to impose upon them. They aspire to take the place of the elders, while the latter fear
being dispossessed of their privileges. The initiation rites are intended both to promote
the transformation of the young into adults and to resolve latent conflicts among
generations.
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A relatively universal process, the scenario of initiation in its broad outline is made up
of three main stages. First, there is the symbolic death of the young person, figured by a
separation (experienced as mourning) from the family and the group. The second stage
involves the gestation of the new individual, corresponding to a period of seclusion of the
initiates in a site (such as sacred woods, cave, and so on) located outside the limits of the
normal social space of the community. Third, initiation is marked by the rebirth and
integration of the individual, who returns to the family and the village; this return is
generally celebrated by a feast.
During the reclusion-gestation period, the initiates undergo various intellectual, moral,
and physical tests, culminating in a ritual of symbolic death and renaissance. They
receive secret teachings, including learning a special language, religious knowledge, and
information on the group’s system of cultural and social values. During this period, the
transformation of the person is not only moral, but also physical because operations such
as circumcision, excision, and/or scarifications symbolically mark accession to the
fullness of adult sexuality. For if initiation implies acquiring knowledge and social
virtues, at a deeper level it also means fertility, an essential value in traditional societies.
Other collective or individual forms of initiation exist, the extreme form being
mystical (or shamanic) initiation in which the individual accomplishes his “voyage”
alone. The different stages of life can be underlined by rites of passage, such as changing
age groups in certain societies. Marriage constitutes an important passage for the woman,
since, traditionally, it marks the greatest change in her physical and social status. Death
constitutes the ultimate and last transformation of the individual in this world; the rites
surrounding it are aimed at easing this passage into the “other world.”
The initiatory training includes the teaching of oral traditions and verbal arts (enigmas,
proverbs, mythical texts in a secret language, sacred songs, and so on) that are specific to
this contest and help to acquire knowledge. In addition, the esoteric meaning of everyday
forms of verbal art are explained and commented upon. In the preparation of the future
initiates, the tale especially plays an essential role.
Indeed, in their structures, many tales, stemming from the most varied cultures,
reproduce the initiation scenario outlined above. The necessity of the “passage” seems to
be a universal concern, and every society prepares their children very early to overcome
conflicts and to succeed in the tests and transformations involved in this “passage.” The
tales, whose pedagogic function is very important and which transmit the system of
traditional values and cultural models, teach the behaviors needed to pass the initiation
and, conversely, those that lead to failure or improper integration into the group.
These ideas are expressed indirectly through the language of imagery and symbols.
Among the stories that can be interpreted as initiatory, one can include types from AarneThompson’s international classification that exist in African folklore; for example, there
are “The Dragon-Slayer” (AT300), “The Kind and Unkind Girls” (AT480), “The Two
Travelers (Truth and Falsehood)” (AT613), “Snow-White” (AT709), and so on. These
types bring into play one or two heroes or heroines. When there are two central
characters, the most frequent occurrence, the tale is structured in two opposing sections.
The second reproduces mirrorlike the inverted image of the first: the “positive” hero
behaves according to the norms and succeeds in his quest whereas the “negative”
character is immature and fails.
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In these stories, there is a transposition in symbolic form of the different stages of real
initiation. First, there is the Departure. The hero leaves his family and village, either for a
“natural” reason (state of lack provoked by poverty or famine), or as a result of a conflict
with an individual belonging to an older generation (a role often held by the stepmother).
This conflict can be organized around an object symbolically linked to the parents’
fertility. For example, in “The Kind and Unkind Girls” type, the heroine breaks or loses
the stepmother’s calabash or gourd, which she must then go seek or repair. The tale thus
emphasizes the necessary renewal of the generations.
Second, there is the “Voyage and Quest” type. After crossing a symbolic boundary,
the hero finds himself in another world (bush or forest), a wild space as opposed to the
cultural space of the village, the habitat of genies, ogres, and the dead. He has various
encounters and undergoes ordeals in which he must display social qualities (patience,
politeness, discretion, sobriety, obedience, intelligence, and respect for the elderly). At
the end of the voyage, he meets the main initiator who subjects him to the ultimate test
symbolizing initiatory death and resurrection. This episode often corresponds to a descent
into the depths of water, an image of a return to the mother’s womb.
Third, there is the “Return and Reintegration” type. The central character returns to the
village bringing riches as symbols of knowledge and adult fertility won during the quest.
The negative hero who behaved badly in the tests is punished, sometimes by death.
Initiation is a triumph over the self. In their figurative and symbolic form, the tales
prepare the young individuals for this symbolic “death” from which they will be reborn
as new and fertile beings, ready to play their roles as adults in society. Thus, we see that
forms of folklore are used in initiation ceremonies, and themselves use the initiation
sequence in their narrative structure.
References
Aarne, Anti, and Stith Thompson. 1961. The Types of the Folktale, A Classification and
Bibliography. Helsinki: Academia Scietiarum Fennica.
Calame-Griaule, Genevieve. 1984. The Father’s Bowl: Analysis of a Dogon Version of AT 480.
Research in African Literatures 15:2: 168–84.
——. 1987. Des cauris au marche, Essais sur des contes africains. Paris: Societe des africanistes.
——. 1992. Mohammed Ag-Agar or Oedipus in the Sahel. Marvels and Tales VI:2 (Special Issue:
“Interpreting Folktales,” guest editor, V.Görög-Karady): 187–218.
——. 1996. Les chemins de l’autre monde, Contes initiatiques africains. Cahiers de Litterature
Orale 39/40:29–59.
Van Gennep, Arnold. 1981. Les rites de passage (1909). Picard: Nourry.
Vidal, Pierre. 1976. Garcons et filles. Le passage a l’age d’homme chez les Gbaya Kara. Paris:
Labethno Paris X (Nanterre).
Zahan, Dominque. 1960. Societes d’initiation bambara. Le n’domo, le kore. Paris-La Haye:
Mouton.
GENEVIÉVE CALAME-GRIAULE
See also Folktales; Gender Representation in African Folklore; Myth; Southern
African Oral Traditions; Typology and Performance in the Study of Prose
Narratives
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INSTITUTIONAL STUDY OF AFRICAN
FOLKLORE
Africa has been a battleground in the folklorist’s attempt to assert the autonomy of
folklore. As a result, there has been much interdisciplinary debate surrounding the
concept of African folklore between the late eminent folklorist Richard Dorson and
literary scholars and anthropologists. The first debate arose in 1965, when Dorson was
invited to conduct a folklore seminar in London by the Department of Africa of the
School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS) at the University of London. He used the
opportunity to speak out against W.H. Whiteley’s handling of African prose material in
Whiteley’s book A Selection of African Prose; 1: Traditional Oral Texts, calling attention
to the lack of comparative notes and motif references, which a folklorist would normally
look for, and the imbalance of genres represented. Whiteley’s book was a lesson in “How
not to publish folklore texts,” according to Dorson.
A repeat of this confrontation took place in 1967, at the Oral Data Conference in
Wisconsin, cosponsored by the African Studies Programs of the University of Wisconsin
and Northwestern University. There, while literary scholars expressed disappointment at
the folklorist’s neglect of esthetics, Dorson drew attention to the lack of comparative
perspectives in the approach of the literary scholar, linguist, and anthropologist.
Simply put, in the attempt to assert the autonomy of folklore as a discipline, folklorists
have prescribed a host of mutually exclusive criteria or rules. Besides more recent
definitions of folk and folklore offered by Dundes and Ben-Amos, the issue of what,
exactly, constitutes folklore has been based on the nature of the material under study, as
well as the evolutionary status of the people to which the material belongs. While Dorson
adopts these two criteria in his book African Folklore, he also advocates a third, which
unwittingly repudiates the previous two: Folklore is what folklorists have studied by their
methods.
Applying all three criteria simultaneously, the problematic outcome is evident in the
contradictions in the following propositions in Dorson’s book: (1) Chatelain’s book
Folktales of Angola (1894) is folklore because it contains comparative notes; but (2)
anthropologists studying Africa in the past were wrong to not label the material as
folklore; but (3) what was in Africa before the arrival of an elite in “recent” decades is
not folklore.
Besides the muddling of criteria in the assessment of African folklore material, the
attempt to trace elitism or shades of “traditions” in Africa to recent decades overlooks
centuries of “elitism,” written poetry, and religious pluralism that existed long before the
African contact with Western civilization.
Despite the folklorist’s ambivalent signals in appraising African materials, the
continued study of African folklore throughout the world has not been hampered by
definition games. To put this in perspective, highlighted below are some of the significant
landmarks in the institutional study of African folklore in the United States, Europe, and
on the African continent, placing particular emphasis on the study of oral literature. We
have here used oral literature, verbal art, and folklore interchangeably.
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United States
Perhaps the single most significant event in the history of African folklore in the United
States is the African folklore conference organized at Indiana University in July 1970,
under the direction of Richard Dorson. This brought together folklorists, anthropologists,
linguists, and literary scholars who had done fieldwork on African folklore. The
conference was the culmination of a series of events that had reinforced the visibility of
African folklore among American scholars. These included an informal seminar on
African folklore in London in 1965 (which was attended by Richard Dorson and other
American folklorists), an oral data conference in 1967 at Wisconsin, and a trip to Africa
in early 1970 by Dorson.
The study of African folklore in the United States has been based at two major
institutions of learning: Indiana University and the University of Wisconsin-Madison, the
two institutions that offer doctoral programs in African folklore or oral literature. There
are also several other universities where doctoral dissertations on African folklore have
been written. The University of California, Berkeley, for example, is responsible for two
out of four early doctoral dissertations that classified African tales. These are Ojo
Arewa’s classification of tales in the northern East African cattle area, and Winifred
Lambrecht’s tale type index for Central Africa.
Two other early dissertations on tale classification come from Indiana University.
Klipple’s African Folklore with Foreign Analogues (1938) was the earliest African
folklore doctoral dissertation, written even before the Indiana University Folklore
Institute (and later department) was established. This was followed nineteen years later
by Kenneth Clarke’s Motif Index of the Folktales of West Africa (1957). The bulk of
African folklore dissertations written at Indiana emerged after 1964, when the Folklore
department achieved autonomy. Since then, dissertations have been written on a wide
range of genres (such as folktale, myth, dirge, proverb, epic, legend, and folk music), and
specific courses on African folklore have been taught. Graduate courses offered at
Indiana include “Seminar in African Folklore,” “African Epic and Praise Poetry,” and
“Middle-Eastern and Sub-Saharan African Narratives,” taught, respectively, by John
Johnson, Hasan el-Shamy, and Ruth Stone.
The University of Wisconsin-Madison covers African folklore studies within the
Department of African Languages and Literatures. Renowned scholars there include
Harold Scheub and Daniel Kunene. The department is devoted to the combined study of
language and oral and written literatures in Africa. This is a cardinal example of the
medley of perspectives from which verbal art in Africa has been examined. The earliest
dissertation on African oral literature from this department (established in 1963), Harold
Scheub’s The Ntsomi: A Xhosa Performing Art (1969), has influenced several Wisconsin
dissertations on African folklore. Wisconsin has produced a number of doctoral
dissertations on African oral literature and related topics. A majority of these explore the
African narrative, and aspects including structure, performance, and rhythm.
Courses offered at Wisconsin include “The African Storyteller,” “Structures of
African Narratives,” “Seminar in Traditional African Literature,” and “Seminar in
Southern African Oral Tradition and Written Literature.”
Another important place for the study of African folklore has been the University of
Pennsylvania, where the Folklore and Folklife department taught undergraduate and
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graduate courses in African folklore, until the department metamorphosed into the Center
for Ethnography and Folklore. Scholars in African folklore at Pennsylvania include Dan
Ben Amos. Pennsylvania has been responsible for several important dissertations on
African folklore, including Peter Seitel’s landmark research on Proverb and the Structure
of Metaphor among the Haya of Tanzania (1972).
Interest in African folklore or oral literature within the United States is also
exemplified in the number of journals that have devoted some of their pages to the
subject. These include Research in African Literatures, Journal of Folklore Research
(formerly Journal of the Folklore Institute), Journal of American Folklore, Ba Shiru, The
Conch, and Folklore Forum.
Of these journals, Research in African Literatures (R.A.L) has devoted the most
attention to African folklore. Established in 1970 as the publication of the African
Literature Committee of the African Studies Association and the African Literature
Seminar of the Modern Languages Association, R.A.L. (now published by the African
Literature Association) has allotted more than a third of its volumes to oral literature in
Africa. By the end of 1984, eight special issues on African oral literature had been
published by R.A.L., with the following subtitles: “African Folklore in the New World”
(7:2, 1976), “African Folklore,” (8:2, 1977); “African Song” containing discussion on
praise poetry (11:3, 1979), “Genre and Classification in African Folklore” (11:3, 1980),
“Oral Tradition” dealing with the epic, proverb, and folktale (12:3, 1981), “Epic and
Panegyric Poetry” (14:3, 1983), “African Oral Narrative” (15:2, 1984), and “African
Poetry and Song” (15:4, 1984).
The Journal of American Folklore (JAF) is the oldest of the journals publishing
African folklore material in the United States. Established in 1888 by the American
Folklore Society, JAF was originally meant to support the collection of the rapidly
vanishing remains of folklore in America, including relics and lore of the English,
African Americans, and Native Americans. Its interest in cultures lying outside the EuroAmerican world has been secondary; even so, until 1958, it had published eighteen notes
and brief expositions. Over the past century, JAF has carried about fifty major essays on
African folklore. The American Folklore Society was responsible for the publication of
Lord Chatelain’s Folktales of Angola.
Contrary to the editorial policy of JAF, the Journal of the Folklore Institute (now
Journal of Folklore Research) has a primarily international outlook. It is published by the
Indiana University Folklore Institute; the faculty constitutes a collective editorial board.
With increased emphasis on the international scene and comparative studies at the time,
JFI (founded in 1964) saw the need “for a periodical in English which will bring into
focus the folklore research now being vigorously prosecuted by dedicated scholars
around the world.” To this end, special issues devoted to different geographical areas
have been published. JFI has carried over forty essays on African folklore. Special issues
on Africa include (4:2/3, 1967) published proceedings of the informal seminar on
theories and concepts of folklore held in London in 1965, and the special issue (6:2/3,
1969) on Africa based on the African oral data conference held in Wisconsin-Madison in
1967. This contains contributions on data collecting in Africa, the uses of African verbal
art, African music, and archiving. Another JFI issue which is Africa-oriented (1983) was
based on a conference in Paris, organized by the Paris-based African oral literature
research group.
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The Folklore Forum, published by students of Indiana University, has also carried
material on African folklore. Since it started in 1968, FF has published several articles on
African folklore. In 1973, Folklore Forum (Bibliographical and Special Series, 11)
published a special issue on Yoruba folklore, the outcome of papers presented to
Professor Abimbola by Africanist students while he was a visiting professor at the
Folklore Department. Students of Indiana University also started a series of publications
on African folklore in 1981, entitled Cross Rhythms: Papers in African Folklore,
published by the Trickster Press. Three volumes have appeared thus far.
Another significant publication is Ba Shiru, published by the Department of African
Languages and Literatures of the University of Wisconsin. The journal began in 1970 and
publishes material on linguistics and oral and written literatures. Though irregularly
produced, Ba Shiru has published several articles on African folklore, devoting an issue
in 1975 (6:2) to African oral narratives. Significantly, this journal intersperses its articles
with oral narratives collected from the field with informant data.
Finally, mention should be made of the Conch, subtitled “Sociological Journal of
African Cultures and Literatures,” which has a wider scope and deals with various
aspects of African life, including oral and written literatures. This journal began in 1969
and has published special issues on African culture and oral traditions.
Apart from journal publications on African folklore, annual meetings and conferences
organized by the African Literature Association, African Studies Association, and the
American Folklore Society have provided outlets for the discussion of topics in African
folklore in the United States. Of particular significance here is the African Literature
Association; its selected papers, published annually, have included several essays on
African folklore/oral literature.
Europe
The contribution of Europe to the study of African folklore and oral literature dates much
earlier than the United States, partly due to its long colonial history in Africa. These
contributions range from early nineteenth century folklore collections by missionaries,
explorers, linguists, and anthropologists, to rigorous analytical perspectives brought to
bear on data by trained folklorists, scholars of oral literature, ethnolinguists, and
anthropologists of French and British schools. In recent years, Hungary and other central
and eastern European countries have become particularly visible in African folklore
research, through the institution of specific programs on Africa and the sponsoring of
international conferences on African folklore.
In Britain, Ruth Finnegan’s book Oral Literature in Africa (1970) has been
compulsory reading material in all courses on African folklore. African oral literature is
offered in institutions such as the School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS) of the
University of London, as well at the Center for West African Studies at the University of
Birmingham.
In France, the research team Langage et Culture en Afrique de I’Oues is the most
visible in the study of oral literature in Africa. It started in 1968, when fifteen Africanists
in cultural anthropology and linguistics began studies on West Africa. In 1970, the group
was recognized by the Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique (CNRS) and
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renamed the Equipe de Recherche Associee (ERA). Its membership consists of such
prominent linguists, oral literary scholars, ethnolinguists, and anthropologists as
Genevieve Calame-Griaule, Gerard Dumestre, Veronika Gorog-Karady, Christiane
Seydou, and Brunhilde Biebuyck, who trained as a folklorist at Indiana University.
Having conducted fieldwork among several ethnic groups in West Africa (such as the
Bambara, Fulani, Dogon, Shanga, Kru, Bete, Zarma, etc.), the group is subdivided into
several sections, including a section on oral literature. The French school, which
concentrates on the study of folktales, has in recent years fallen in step with
methodological approaches adopted by American folklorists, mainly the use of motif and
tale type indexes for comparative purposes, and the study of the folktale as a
communicative event. Significantly, the group uses motif and the tale type indexes not as
a means of projecting a tale’s historical source or ur-form, but as part of the process of
exploring meaning.
In 1981 and 1982, the French school organized two conferences on oral literature in
Britain and France, respectively. The first, held at Wolfson College at Oxford, brought
together graduate and faculty members SOAS, members of the Institute of Social
Anthropology, and the French scholars. Proceedings of the symposium appear in a book,
Forms and Meanings: Essays in African Oral Literature, edited by Veronica GorogKarady. This consists of ten essays on African oral narratives using comparative, literary,
and anthropological approaches.
The second conference, held in 1982, was in Paris. Among the papers presented here
was one jointly done by the French scholars on The Meaning of Variability and the
Variability of Meaning. In this essay, the French group outline and exemplify their newly
fashioned agenda: that of searching for culturespecific meanings through the study of
variants, “versions,” themes, motifs, sociocultural contexts, textual context of elements in
the tale, and communicative strategies used during performance. Theirs is not a univalent
approach, but an amalgamation of all perspectives that are relevant in exploring the
nuances of cultural meaning.
Such a synthesis of approach in the exploration of meaning is the distinctive mark of
the French school, and could influence the course of folklore research. Significantly, the
Organizing Committee for the Eighth Congress of the International Society for Folk
Narrative Research (after the French School) made “Folk Narrative and the Quest for
Meaning” one of its central themes in a meeting in Bergen. Today, courses on African
oral literature are taught in the Institut National de Langues et des Civilisations Orientales
(INALCO), Sorbonne Nouvelle, and Nanterre Université. There is, however, no
autonomous oral literature or folklore department in France.
While this survey of the study of African folklore is not exhaustive, this section
concludes with a reference to the Hungarian contribution to African folklore studies. It is
possible to extend as far back as the nineteenth century and trace the beginnings of
individual research on Africa by Hungarians. Scholars like Lazzlo Magyar, Emil Torday,
and Bela Bartok all made expeditions to Africa and collected artifacts and music.
Generally, however, Hungary was little exposed to overseas cultures, due to its lack of
colonial activities. This has changed, however, over the course of the last half century.
Institutions in Hungary have recently shown interest in Africa. In the past thirty years, for
example, the Department of Folklore at Eotvos University has had lectures on African
folklore. In 1981 a specific research program on “Folklore Today—Africa” was
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launched; thanks to the efforts of Wilmos Voigt, the prominent Hungarian folklorist and
Director of the Folklore Department. The African folklore research program is state
supported, and has sent Hungarians to do fieldwork in places like Libya, Angola and
Mozambique.
The Hungarian contribution is especially marked by the organization of international
conferences on African folklore in 1982. Another conference was held in 1984. The
participants in both conferences came from all over the world, including eastern Europe,
the United States, and Africa.
The most significant event of the 1984 conference was the official founding of the
International Association for the Study of Oral Traditions in Africa (IASOTA). This had
been proposed in the 1982 conference under the working name, International Association
of Oral Literature of Africa.
In 1991, an International Society for Oral Literature in Africa (ISOLA) started taking
shape, and held its first conference at SOAS. This was followed in 1995 with another
conference at the University of Ghana. In 1998, the University of Cape Town in South
Africa held the third international conference of ISOLA. It was at this third international
conference that ISOLA was officially inaugurated. Its sole aim has been to promote and
coordinate the study of oral literature as a legitimate and recognized discipline within
secondary and tertiary institutions. Papers presented at the Cape Town conference appear
in African Oral Literature, edited by Russell Kaschula. In 2002, a follow-up conference
was held by ISOLA in Chamberly, France.
Africa
The part being played by Africans themselves in today’s study of African oral literature
or folklore is made more evident in the following brief account.
It begins with the informants, research assistants, and private collectors, and extends
up to scholars, authors, co-authors, educational institutions, and professional associations
in Africa. Assistance from informants and research assistants was largely
unacknowledged, however, until recent decades. Today, not only are informants
acknowledged, but scholars like Peter Seitel test the validity of analytical statements they
have made on fieldwork material through extended correspondence with field informants
and subsequent visits to the field. Furthermore, book and monograph titles such as John
Johnson’s The Epic of Sunjata according to Magan Sisoko and Charles Bird’s The Songs
of Seydou Camara proclaim the names of informants. Coauthors are also named, such as
is the case with George Herzong and C.Blooah’s Jabo Proverbs from Liberia and Daniel
Biebuyck and C.Mateene’s Mwindo Epics.
Well-cited books on African folklore written by Africans have appeared in the last
fifty years. In such works, African scholars trained in European, American, and African
universities have combined intuitions, fieldwork, and ethnic models, as well as the
analytical perspectives of Western scholars, to examine folklore and oral literature within
their own localities. Some of the better-cited work in this category include J.H.K.Nketia’s
Funeral Dirges of the Akan Peoples (1955), S.A.Babalola’s The Content and Form of
Yoruba Ijala, and John Mbiti’s Akamba Stories; the last two were both published in 1966
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as part of the Oxford Library of African Literature series. Of late, Isidore Okpewho’s
African Oral Literature has made a major mark in the study of the subject.
In the United States, African students at such institutions as Indiana University, the
University of Wisconsin-Madison, the University of Pennsylvania, and the University of
California at Berkeley have contributed to the corpus of doctoral dissertations on African
folklore. At Indiana University, Kwesi Yankah’s 1985 dissertation (The Proverb in the
Context of Akan Rhetoric) won the Esther Kingsley Award for outstanding doctoral
dissertation, the first folklore dissertation to win the prestigious award.
On the African continent itself, a sustained study of African folklore (oral literature in
particular) began in the 1960s under the patronage of institutes of African studies, and
later in autonomous departments of Linguistics, African Languages and Literature, and
English. In Sudan, there is now a Department of Folklore at the University of Khartoum.
In most of these departments, trained folklorists who are Africans teach courses in oral
literature or folklore.
Established in 1972, the Department of Folklore at the University of Khartoum, Sudan
collects and documents traditional genres and artifacts from different parts of Sudan, and
trains graduate students in Sudanese, African, and Middle Eastern folklore. It offers
graduate diplomas, and masters and doctoral degrees in folklore. Courses offered cover
topics including folklore theory, fieldwork methodology, applied folklore, introduction to
African and Middle Eastern folklore, and the structural analysis of myth. The faculty
includes Sayyid Hammid Hurreiz and Sharafeldin Abdel-salam, both of whom obtained
their doctoral degrees at Indiana University. Ahmed Abdal Rahim Nasr, a third faculty
member, obtained his doctorate at the University of Wisconsin-Madison.
Besides the Department of Folklore, other institutions in Sudan that collect and
analyze folklore materials include the College of Fine and Applied Arts and the Center
for Folklore Studies, which is a wing of the Ministry of Culture.
Sudan has hosted international conferences on folklore, the first of which was in 1968,
and the second in 1970. Proceedings of the first conference have been published as Sudan
in Africa, edited by Yusuf Fadl. The second proceedings were published under the title
Directions in Sudanese Folklore and Linguistics. In 1981, Khartoum again hosted a
conference on Folklore and National Development. Folklore monographs and journals in
Sudan include Sudanese Heritage Series, Sudan Notes and Records, Journal of Sudanese
Studies, Journal of Culture, and Al-Waza. There is also an archive in the Folklore
department, which currently holds over three thousand tapes.
In Nigeria, the academic study of African folklore was initiated in the latter part of the
1960s, when oral literature courses were taught at the University of Ibadan, the
University of Lagos, and the University of Nigeria. These universities offered a B.A. in
Yoruba within the institutes of African Studies. From 1970 onwards the study of oral
literature in Nigeria shifted from African Studies institutes to departments of Linguistics
and Nigerian Languages or African Languages and Literatures, in Lagos, Ife, Ibadan and
Illorin universities. Degrees offered in oral literature have been upgraded from bachelors
through masters in the mid-seventies, to Ph.Ds in the 1980s. Other institutions offering
oral literature courses in Nigeria include Bayero University’s Center for the Study of
Nigerian Languages and Oral Documentation, the University of Calabar, the University
of Jos, Ahmadu Bello University, and the University of Port Harcourt.
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376
The increased interest in African folklore studies in Nigeria also led to the formation
of the Nigerian Folklore Society in 1980. The society is assisted by the government, and
has held annual conferences since 1980. The proceedings of the first conference appeared
as Oral Poetry in Nigeria.
Nigeria was also the seat of the now defunct Africa-based African Literature
Association. The annual meetings of this organization attracted scholars from Europe, the
United States, and other parts of Africa. Papers presented at such meetings covered both
oral and written literatures. In 1981, the theme of the ALA conference was “Oral
Performance in Africa,” which has now been published. Journals in Nigeria publishing
African folklore material include African Notes, Odu, and Yoruba.
In Ghana, courses in oral literature are taught at the Institute of African Studies, as
well as in the Linguistics and English departments of the University of Ghana. Trained
folklorists and scholars of oral literature teaching in oral literature programs in Ghana
include Kofi Anyidoho, Kwesi Yankah, Esi Sutherland—Arday, and Kwaku Owusu
Brempong.
The Institute of African Studies was established by Dr. Kwame Nkrumah, the first
president of Ghana, as a semiautonomous institution within the University of Ghana. It
was intended to play a dominant role in the intellectual effort to uncover, through
interdisciplinary research, the rich culture and history of the African peoples. The
institute carries out research and teaches in a wide range of fields including history and
politics, religion and philosophy, societies and cultures, language, drama and literature,
music and dance, visual arts, gender, culture and development, family studies, and
cultural aspects of population issues.
The institute offers courses at undergraduate and graduate levels. Courses taught
include appropriate technology for rural development, culture and development, African
heritage through literature, oral literature of Africa and the diaspora, African popular
culture, African music, African dance, and drama, as well as Ghanaian languages. The
institute publishes monographs and the journal Research Review, as well as the
Occasional Research Paper series.
The Institute of African Studies is also the home of the Ghana Dance Ensemble, made
up of thirty-five drummers and dancers drawn from all the regions of Ghana. The group
features as a resource and outreach program of the institute. It runs workshops and
seminars and has a rich repertoire of traditional dances and music, which it performs for
audiences in Ghana and abroad.
The University of Ghana is also the seat of the International Centre for African Music
and Dance (ICAMD), founded by world-renowned ethnomusicologist J.H.Kwabena
Nketia in 1993. The center serves the following functions:
A focus for the development of materials and programs in African music
and dance that meet the needs of scholars, research students, and creative
artists
A clearinghouse for information on events, artists, scholars, and
institutions concerned with the study and promotion of African music and
dance; and
A forum for international meetings, conferences, seminars, workshops,
and special events in music and dance.
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The center has a library and audiovisual archive. The library stocks important books on
African culture, African music and dance, and books on other cultures. It has copies of
dissertations, theses, long essays and very rare documents that cannot be found in Europe
and America. The audiovisual center holds over fifteen hundred audiocassettes, of which
six hundred are field recordings by researchers, staff of the center, and graduate students,
as well as recordings of conferences, seminars, and workshops organized by the center.
Ghana also has a National Folklore Board, operating under the National Commission on
Culture.
In Malawi, folklore and oral literature is taught to undergraduates in the second and
fourth year of university education in the departments of English, Chichewa, and
Linguistics at Chancellor College, Zomba. As part of the course requirements, stu dents
work on long papers based on folklore research done in their respective ethnic groups.
Kalulu, a bulletin of oral literature, first published in 1976 and edited by Jack Mapanje
and Enoch Mvula, is a forum for the publication of such research materials.
In East Africa, African oral literature is taught in several universities, including
Kenyatta University in Kenya and Makerere University in Uganda. In southern Africa,
universities that teach oral literature include the University of Zimbabwe, where it is
offered in the African Languages and Literature Department, the University of Botswana,
where it is taken at the English Department, the National University of Lesotho, and the
University of Cape Town, South Africa, where it is taught in the Department of
Linguistics and Southern African Languages.
The above survey, while not exhaustive, demonstrates the transcontinental interest that
the study of African folklore and oral literature has aroused in recent decades. Heli
Chatelain once said, “African folklore is not a tree by itself, but a branch of one universal
tree.” While the comparative potential of African folklore material demonstrates this, the
progress of African folklore studies must not be measured in terms of how many
universal categories, principles, or theoretical frames encompass Africa; the yardstick of
progress lies in the quality of perspectives harnessed in study and research. The search
for such a goal begins at the end of interdisciplinary feuds and advances along the path of
a stable diversity of scholars and tools.
References
Arewa, E.Ojo. 1966. A Classification of Folktales of the Northern East Africa Cattle Area by
Types. University of California, Berkeley.
Ben-Amos, Dan. 1972. “Toward a Definition of Folklore in Context. In Toward New Perspectives
in Folklore, eds. Americo Paredes & Richard Bauman. Austin: University of Texas Press.
Biebuyck, Brunhilde. 1984. The Many Faces of the French Research team 246: Langage et Culture
en Afrique de 1’Quest. Research in African Literatures 15:262–88.
Biebuyck, Daniel, and Kahombo Mateene. 1969. The Mwindo Epic. Berkeley and Los Angeles:
University of California Press.
Bird, Charles with Mamadu Keita and Bourama Soumaouro. 1974. The Songs of Seydou Camara.
Bloomington: Indiana UniversityAfrican Studies Program.
Calame-Griaule, Genevieve, et al. The Meaning of Variability and the Variability of Meaning.
Journal of Folklore Research 20, nos. 2/3:153–70.
Chatelain, Heli. 1894. Folktales of Angola. American Folklore Society Memoirs 1.
Degh, Linda. Foreword: A Quest for Meaning. Journal of Folklore Research 20, nos. 2/3:145.
African folklore
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Dorson, Richard. 1972. Africa and the Folklorist. In African Folklore, ed. Richard Dorson. New
York: Doubleday.
Dorson, Richard. Introduction. Journal of the Folklore Institute 1 no. 1:3.
Dundes, Alan. 1965. What is Folklore? In The Study of Folklore, ed. Alan Dundes Englewood
Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall.
Gerard, Albert S. 1981. African Language Literatures: An Introduction to the Literary History of
Sub-Saharan Africa. Washington: The Three Continents Press.
Hale, Thomas. Report on the International Colloquium on Folklore in Africa Today, August 27–31,
1984, at the University of Budapest, Hungary. African Literature Assoc. Bulletin 10, no. 4: 4–6.
Harris, Marjorie, comp. African-Related Doctoral Dissertations and Masters Theses Completed at
the University of Wisconsin Madison through 1980. University of Wisconsin, Madison, African
Studies Program.
Hasan, Salah M. 1984. Folklore Studies and Research in the Sudan. The Middle East and South
Asia Folklore Newsletter 2–4.
Hasan, Yusuf Fadl, 1975. ed. Sudan in Africa. Khartoum: University of Khartoum Press. Directions
in Sudanese Folklore and Linguistics, eds. Sayyid Hurreiz Bell, Khartoum: University of
Khartoum Press.
Herzog, George, and C.G.Blooah. 1936. Jabo Proverbs from Liberia. London: Oxford University
Press.
Kaschula, Russell, ed. 2001. African Oral Literature: Functions in Contemporary Contexts.
Claremont, South Africa: New African Books, 2001.
Johnson, John W. 1979. The Epic of Sunjata 1 according to Magan Sisoko. Bloomington: Folklore
Institute, Folklore Publications Group.
Lambrecht, Winifred. 1967. A Tale Type Index for Central Africa. University of California,
Berkeley.
Okpewho, Isidore. 1992. African Oral Literature: Background, Character and Continuity.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Seitel, Peter. 1980. See So that We May See. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Bea Vidas, 1984. Outline History of Hungarian African Studies. Artes Populares 10/11:119–30.
Voigt, Vilmos. 1984. Welcoming African Folklorists Artes Populares 10/11:xxv–viii.
KWESI YANKAH
See also Maqalat: Concepts of Folklore in the Sudan; Oral Literary Research in
Africa; Oral Literature: Issues of Definition and Terminology; Performance in
Africa
INSULTS AND RIBALD LANGUAGE
They are not inclined to talk of Procreation in obscene or
too expressive Terms; they believe it to be designed by
Nature for obscure Retreats; and therefore very improper
to be talked of in broad terms: But he that can cleanly
express this Subject in well meaning Hints, passes for a
Wit. Hence each of them aims at diverting Fables or
Similitudes tending this way.
(Bosman: 1907 [1705]: 443–44).
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Nearly three hundred years ago, William Bosman made this observation, and we would
do well to acknowledge the aptness of his insight about language behavior in Africa.
Certainly more research is needed in this area of “taboo” behavior, but what data there is
on insulting and ribald language demonstrates the validity of Bosman’s comment.
Although sexual and excretory terms are proscribed in African cultures, they carry none
of the emotional power of insult and obscenity which they do in European languages.
“Bad words” based on bodily functions are available, and in some cultures young boys
use them to insult others, but it is clear that adults consider such language suitably
employed only by uneducated youth. On the other hand, great interest and delight is taken
in the creative use of imagery, some of it sexual, in effective speech and entertaining
narratives and songs.
In southern Nigeria, restricted terms for body parts and functions are recognized; they
can be employed as insults, but only in the vaguest way, and are generally regarded more
as ignorant or uneducated speech than as truly painful slurs. Throughout Africa, one
hears minor insults as a speaker refers to another’s alleged animal-like appearance or in
appropriate behavior—monkeys, hyenas, and goats are the most frequent references.
Indicative of the differences between southern Nigerian and European insulting speech is
the fact that a powerful insult among Nigerians is to claim to be another’s father.
However, any association with the classic European insult about sexual relations with
another’s mother quickly disappears when one learns that it is also insulting to claim to
be another’s mother, no matter what the sexes of the protagonists may be. In actual fact,
the insult revolves around the assertion of seniority of age over the individual being
insulted. Although this can lead to physical violence, the worst possible insult for
southern Nigerians is to wish death upon another’s family, thus wreaking havoc upon that
individual’s lineage. Other studies reveal culturally specific creativity in insulting
language (Warren and Bremprong 1977; Peek 1996).
Further insight into the significantly differing criteria of insults may be gained when
ribald language is investigated in tales and other verbal art forms. Even in “sanitized”
collections of folktales from Africa, there are accounts of bizarre and extreme behaviors,
with some stories containing startlingly violent and graphic imagery. But closer
examination of such narratives as “The Whore Meets Her Match,” in which the
“Peripatetic Penis” finally conquers the misbehaving woman (Cosentino 1982), quickly
reveals that lewd thoughts are in no way brought forth. Instead, even outsiders can
recognize that the extraordinary imagery is serving other purposes, which are generally
pointed social commentaries in which the vividness of the imagery serves to highlight the
behavioral transgressions. Thus, for example, an instance of swollen testicles, usually
described in excruciating detail, is in no way “obscene,” but does demonstrate the
appropriate punishment of inappropriate sexual behavior.
Work by African folklorists and linguists further supports such interpretations. Boadi
(1972) noted that elders have access to a level of explicit language which younger
speakers do not, and thus their proverbs are far more affective. We know most African
languages recognize such restricted speech, which can include elaborate sexual
metaphors only available to elders. The Isoko of the Niger Delta call such speech
emedidi, or “deep words.”
Other evidence of the artful use of sexual imagery comes from rituals that occur
throughout Africa, in which men and women will “compete” against each other with
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insulting songs, usually characterized by gross descriptions of each other’s sexual organs.
During such ceremonies of ritual reversal and sexual license, the atmosphere is decidedly
convivial, as all respond with laughter, never insult.
Culture-specific and performance-specific interpretations of meaning and functions
must be continually sought, but in general, the sexual references in African verbal arts
have more to do with the aesthetic and entertainment value of the bizarreness of the
metaphor, the exaggeration of the action, and the vividness of the imagery, than with any
real concern with vulgarity or desire to be obscene. As a vehicle for social commentary,
such references are made no less serious by the laughter evoked. Mary Douglas has
observed, “In any culture insulting terms are the most illuminating indication of accepted
values” (1984, 12). These values are not just reflected in the content but in the
performative dynamics of exchange and the creative production of vivid, startling
images. Although it must be left to others to explain the sexual basis of European and
European-American obscene insults, compared to the common denominator of creative
wit in African abusive language, they appear relatively “witless.”
References
Boadi, Lawrence. 1972. The Language of the Proverb in Akan. In African Folklore ed. Richard
Dorson. New York: Doubleday.
Bosman, William. 1907. A New and Accurate Description of the Coast of Guinea (1705). London:
Ballantyne.
Cosentino, Donald J. 1982. Mende Ribaldry. African Arts 15, no. 2: 64–67, 88.
Douglas, Mary. 1984. Social and Religious Symbolism of the Lele. In Implicit Meanings. London:
Routledge and Kegan Paul.
Olajuba, Chief Oludare. 1972. References to Sex in Yoruba Oral Literature. Journal of American
Folklore 85:152–66.
Peek, Philip M. 1982. Sexual References in Southern Nigerian Verbal Art Forms. African Arts 15,
no. 2:62–63, 88.
——. 1996. The Roles of Sexual Expressions in African Insulting Language and Verbal Arts. In
Folklore Interpreted: Essays in Honor of Alan Dundes, ed. R.Bendix and R.L.Zumwalt. New
York: Garland Press.
Warren, Dennis M., and K.Owusu Bremprong. 1977. Attacking Deviations from the Norm: Poetic
Insults in Bono (Ghana). Maledicta, no. 1:141–66.
PHILIP M.PEEK
See also Gossip and Rumor; Jokes and Humor; Language; Performance in
Africa
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ISLAMIC BROTHERHOODS: BAYE
FALL AND YENGU, A MOURIDE
SPIRITUALITY
Islam has existed in Senegal since the eleventh century. In the 1880s, the collaboration
between Sheikh Amadou Bamba (1853–1927) and Sheikh Ibrahima Fall (1858–1930)
gave it a new momentum through the Mouridiyya, the Sufi brotherhood of Mourides.
Today the latter coexists with the Tidjaniyya, Layeniyya, and other local Muslim
brotherhoods. Bamba, a scholar from a family of learned people and Quranic
schoolmasters, attended Quranic school in Senegal and Mauritania. As soon as it was
founded, the Mourides recruited and integrated different ethnic groups from diverse
sociopolitical levels and families (noble men, free men, dependents, slaves and people of
caste) from the Wolof and Serer territories colonized by the French.
This religious revival also involved the work of social and political reorganization, as
well as economic integration. The holy man and his followers expressed this new order in
the sanctification of labor, which defined the real Mouride person and his/her religious
identity. In this context, Bamba restructured the religious order by establishing the Baye
Fall Daara in 1896, a working and spiritual school different from that of the usual
Quranic instruction and characteristics in a daara tarbiyya. A year later, he raised the
Baye Fall Daara to the rank of a congregation by consecrating Ibrahima Fall as Sheikh,
whom he sent to settle in Saint-Louis, then the capital of Senegal, on the behalf of the
Brotherhood. This act completed the dual work of modernizing the brotherhood and
conceptualizing a different spiritual path. This not only allowed mystical union with the
supreme creator, but also permitted followers to acquire more knowledge and power than
the usual Koranic disciple.
The second and last movement of the brotherhood began with Bamba’s retreat, in
1887, with Ibrahima Fall. During this seclusion, he reported that he received a visit from
the angel Gabriel who announced to him the divine mission to raise Touba, a holy city
and tree leading to paradise, “Chajaratoul Muntaa,” which would be the center from
which “Africanized Islam” would spread throughout the world (Ross 1995, 223–24).
That revelation extended this work of sociopolitical revitalization and religious revival
beyond the limits of Senegal, and it confirmed Ibrahima Fall as Bamba’s disciple.
The material expression of its founders’ prophetic vision is reflected in the
architecture of the huge Touba mosque (1925–1963), which incarnates for the follower
the forms of the master and his disciple. Sheikh Amadou Bamba and Sheikh Ibrahima
Fall are, in the eyes of the faithful, the two holiest men of Mouridism. These revered
icons are represented by the white and black iconography and clothing (derived from the
famously mysterious black and white photography of Bamba, his only portrait) and the
colorful light and dark patchwork clothing of Baye Fall’s followers, which is linked to
their “work” as beggars. Bamba and Fall were able to develop a movement that was
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simultaneously a local Senegambian Islamic revitalization movement, and an
increasingly international brotherhood.
The drummer is shown in the midst of
the Yengu ceremony. He goes into an
ecstatic trance, which he likewise
conveys to the audience. Photo ©
T.K.Biaya.
The growing influence of Mouridism beyond Senegal demonstrated that the French
colonial administration could scarcely contain Bamba. His actions led to accusations by
the French, condemnations, and successive deportation to Gabon (1895–1902) and
Mauritania (1903–1907). When he finally returned to the country, he was placed under
house arrest at Thieyenne before he got back to Diourbel in 1912. During this return to
the cradle of Mouridism, he was continually greeted by ecstatic crowds shouting “God is
back.” To this Bamba only answered, “I am but a humble servant of God and of the
prophet and cursed be those who will not consider me as such.” This epithet henceforth
served to paradoxically mark him by his humility, and his greatness within the faith. But
this ambiguity did not prevent a confusion in the minds of his followers, who saw him as
a political rebel, triumphant over colonization.
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Today Touba—a holy city founded by Bamba and Fall in 1886, with its huge mosque
inaugurated in 1963—is the lighthouse of world Mouridism. This religious metropolis is
also the annual pilgrimage destination of the black Muslim world (Thiam 1990, 17). With
a population of nearly one million in 1997, it competes with Mecca in importance. In
fact, the mapping of its expansion shows that it could be perceived as the center of an
architectural style whose influence is felt in Rome, New York, Melbourne, and Soweto,
where religious Mouride holidays are celebrated. International respect for Touba, and
submission to the General Kalif who resides there as practiced by followers of
Mouridism worldwide, illustrates the truly global nature of this Islamic brotherhood.
Being Baye Fall, An Act of Spirituality
The substantive phrase “Baye Fall,” meaning “Father Fall,” establishes a relationship
stronger than that of Mouride disciple obtained through birth and Quranic education. The
action of conversion and its declaration are done in ritual submission and extreme
humility. The subject kneels down at his marabout’s feet and solemnly declares: “I am
submitting myself to you, body and soul, on earth and to the hereafter. What you will tell
me to do, I will do. What you will forbid, I will never do.” This conversion doubles again
the Mouride’s imbuing with spirituality, and erases any other ethnic and social identity
through the chain of symbolic relationships to the congregation founder Mane (grandfather) Sheikh I.Fall. The subject becomes his symbolic grandson or granddaughter.
Upon entering the working daara (group), the converted person discovers the
institutionalization of physical labor as a condition sine quanon and as a means of
acceding to God (Wade 1967:197–198). He or she also experiences spirituality in its
ultimate expression through self-sacrifice. The Baye Fall follower will spend the rest of
his or her life in the marabout’s service, who, he believes, will lead his soul, when he
dies, to a place next to Ibrahima Fall. They will enter paradise together with Amadou
Bamba, also called serigne (master) Touba.
Female Baye Fall dancing in a circle. Photo © T.K. Biaya.
Within the urban or rural daara, submission (ndjebbel) shows the first stage of the quest
for mystical unity. Like the Khane-Gah (the Sufis from Iran), the Baye Fall people sit in a
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circle, motionless, heads bent down, singing Sheikh Bamba and Ibrahima Fall’s praises
all night long, eventually achieving a state of ecstasy (Sy 1969, 288). Next, there are the
acts of apprenticeship and/or feats of strength. Yengu, literally meaning “performed
movement in action,” the action of making the soul move, constitutes the highest spiritual
expression of Baye Fall. It is the display and the exhibition of physical strength, from
motionlessness through trance to ecstasy, and to the spiritual experience of the energetic
void. The Baye Fall stand as an antithesis of standard Islam, for they do not abide by the
common practices of Islam and orthodox Mouridism (i.e., nonrespect of the five
principles of Islam, use of amulets, alcohol drink and drug use, violence around sacred
places). Followers of Ibrahima Fall are very unique Muslims, and their practices are
considered extreme by outsiders.
Yengu, Spiritual Performance
Apart from the annual pilgrimage to Touba and other major Mouride religious events, the
Baye Fall congregation organizes its own rituals, evening memorial prayers, and other
gatherings. The presentation of gifts to the marabout, the opening of a new school,
baptism of a new born, and other ceremonies are symbolic acts intended to honor the
memory of Ibrahima Fall.
During the private performance, which takes place in the house or inner yard of the
host, the marabout (who is also the master of ceremony) is sumptuously dressed and sits
in an armchair surrounded by knowledgeable disciples on the carpet next to him. His
guests take up seats from which they can watch the mystic performance. During the
public sequence, onlookers and spectators attracted by the songs and the sounds of the
drums augment the audience. This public session takes place under a big tent that is
erected to shelter the ceremony. The marabout occupies the front row which allows him,
while he follows the spectacle, to receive the homage rendered by disciples and visitors
in quest of blessing.
The private performance is brief. Once everybody is seated, the marabout’s griot,
holding an adze and a calabash, or his female griot, wearing a hat, stands up, shouts the
master’s names and utters a praise song for the serigne (master). Disciples assigned to the
master’s protection stand up and walk about the room with their hands on the handles of
their sabers. They put on leather belts decorated with metallic nails in which they place
their daggers. All of a sudden a talibe brandishing a sharp saber appears, cries aloud
praises to the marabou, while the griot whom he relieved is singing under his breath,
yielding his central voice and position to the Baye Fall’s warrior. Continuing his praise,
the latter slides the blade of his weapon over his neck from top to bottom, beating his
body with the sharpened blade like strong butcher’s strokes. He vainly attempts to cut off
his neck and to lacerate his body. Finally, with repeated strong stabs he strikes on his
rounded chest, uttering the panegyric story of his marabout’s life and devotion to the
congregation: his name of power, his maraboutic lineage, his good deeds and merits, the
blessings that he received from General Kalifs and their families and those from Baye
Fall marabout and his families, extending back to Ibrahima Fall and Amadou Bamba. To
show that this is not a hoax, the performer cuts off the strings in leather holding the
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rosary and the marabout’s picture he wears at his neck. This private performance is done
without music.
After the meal, the public performance begins with a Mouride choir singing orthodox
religious songs combining Quranic verses in Arabic and Wolof religious poetry. This
initial stage precedes the yengu (the spiritual performance). After a first entrance made of
songs and dances, the marabout and his learned guest introduce the night conference.
Soon after the conference, the second round of songs, music, and dances starts and only
stops very early in the morning with the Baye Fall’s anthem, which has also accompanied
their entrance on stage:
Laa ilaha illa’llah fall, laa ilaha illa’llaahaa
Laa Haha illa’llah fall, laa Haha ifla’Hah fall
Laa 1laha illa’llah fall, laa Raha illa’Haahaa
(repeated 15 times).
Immediately, the demonstration of spiritual devotion starts. On the esplanade the
atmosphere is one of excitement generated by the “spiritual movement” of the Baye Fall
such as their superhuman gestures of self-flagellation, with their symbolic destruction of
human pride. Men and women appear at every corner running on the esplanade where a
corridor used for the spectacle has been arranged. This “no man’s land” separates the
dancing group from the audience; it also puts the latter out of reach of the performers’
dangerous movements. Devotees, male or female, may quickly whirl a club, sometimes
weighing 11 pounds, above their heads, then strike their backs. The impact of the contact
between the two bodies produces a muffled sound followed with a “ahan” sound, stirring
up a murmur of satisfaction among the other Baye Fall. Some seize heavy cement blocks
which they break on their foreheads, while others might drive awls into their eye, slash
themselves with a saber, or cut themselves with a knife, arousing fear and admiration
within the crowd. These spiritual demonstrations of power and physical strength,
culminating in trance and energetic void experience, are done with the help of special
medicines.
Meaning of the Performance
None of the other Islamic brotherhoods practice this type of ecstatic religious expression.
These manifestations of the yengu spirituality are in no way meant to entertain; rather,
they aim to religiously celebrate an event and enrich the audience with a spiritual and
mystical perspective, encompassing Sufism and showing at the same time the function
and central position of the Baye Fall congregation in the Mouride movement. The Baye
Fall is preeminently the Mouride who had been able to complete the divine work of
submission. In the context of the devotees’ work on behalf of their marabout, the
marabout, in return, like Ibrahima Fall toward Bamba, cares for of the disciple’s soul in
life and death. In establishing this chain of meanings and hierarchy of spiritual contacts,
the yengu seeks to evoke and reenact both Amadou Bamba’s humility (as with the initial
submission of the prophet Rasul to Allah) and Ibrahima Fall’s conversion and submission
to Bamba. It preordains the divine promise of the angel on earth and the Mourid
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repentance. In this way, these spiritual manifestations symbolically display the intense
Sufi faith (Lings 1975) visibly expressed through paradigmatic submission and the
institutionalization of work as a religious act par excellence (Cruise O’Brian 1970, 145).
They also magnify the whole contribution of the Baye Fall congregation to the realization
of the divine work. Finally, this manifestation of the Mouride way stands as a unique
expression of Africanized Islam.
References
Babou, C.A.M. 1997. Autour de la genese du mouridisme, Islam et Societe au Sud du Sahara 11:5–
38.
Coulon, C. 1983. Les musulmans et le pouvoir en Afrique noire. Paris: Kharthala.
Cruise O’Brian, D.B. 1971. The Mourides of Senegal. The Political and Economic Organization of
an Islamic Brotherhood. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Diop, A. -B. 1981. La Societe Wolof Tradition et changement. Paris: Karthala.
Lings, M. 1975. What is Sufism? London: G. Allen & Unwin.
Lo, M. 1993. Un aspect de la poesie “Wolofal” mouride. Traduction et analyse de quelques titres de
serign Mbay Jaxate. Memoire de maitrise, Dept. de Lettres Modernes, Universite C.A. Diop,
Dakar.
Roberts, Allen F., and Mary Nooter Roberts. 2003. A Saint in the City: Sufi Arts of Urban Senegal.
Fowler Museum of Cultural History, UCLA. Seattle: University of Washington Press.
Ross, E. 1995. Touba, A Spiritual Metropolis in the Modern World. Canadian Journal of African
Studies vol. 29, no. 2:222–59.
Sy, C.T. 1970. La confrerie senegalaise des mourides. Paris: Presence africaine.
Thiam, M. 1990. Introduction. Ahmadou Bamba face aux autorites coloniales. (1889–1927), 0. Ba.
Dakar, Imprimeries SIPS.
T.K.BIAYA
See also Religion: African Traditional Religion; Ritual Performance; Spirit
Possession
ITESO
See Children’s Folklore: Iteso Songs of War Time; East African Folklore: Overview
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J
JAPANESE STUDY OF AFRICAN
FOLKLORE
The development of folklore studies in Japan as well as the development of African
studies there demonstrates the changing concepts of the focus for such scholarship. The
study of “others” (in this case, Africans) was only slightly more problematic than the
study of the “folk” because of the hierarchical nature of Japanese society. Thus, today’s
assumptions about folkloristics being the study of the “folk” (whoever they may be) in
their own terms was as “foreign” to Japanese scholars as it was for so long to Europeans.
Although much influenced by European academic traditions, Japanese Africanist
scholarship is different than that of European and American scholars in that the Japanese
continue to use research teams in which a number of scholars from different disciplines
work together in the field.
Perhaps most striking to one not familiar with Japanese academic history is the
similarity of founding dates for their academic associations with those in Europe. The
Anthropological Society of Tokyo (now the Anthropological Society of Japan) was
founded in 1884 and has remained focused on physical anthropology. The Linguistic
Society of Japan was founded in 1896, but only later was ethnology formally recognized,
with the founding of the Japanese Society of Ethnology in 1934. The Folklore Society
was founded the next year. Initial folklore studies in Japan were conducted in Okinawa
and Hokkaido, not among the Japanese per se; therefore the discipline of folklore has
remained somewhat marginalized (as has African studies) due to the perceived
differences from Japanese culture.
Although the formal recognition of folklore as a discipline occurred later in Japan than
in Europe and the United States, the establishment of African studies occurred at much
the same time. The Japanese Association for African Studies was founded in 1963, and
interest in the study of Africa and its peoples has grown steadily since then. Major
research projects in Africa actually began several years earlier, when Kinji Imanishi and
Junichiro Itani went to central Africa to study the mountain gorilla in 1958. Building on
this early work by primatologists, anthropologists continue to constitute the largest
professional group in Japanese African studies. The dominant theme in anthropological
research today is ecological anthropology, which reflects a consistent interest among
Japanese scholars in human interaction with the environment, an interaction that includes
other species (not just other primates) as well. Typically, multidisciplinary teams of
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scholars engage in long-term, localized projects. This diversity of research topics may be
augmented by more developmental studies in the future.
There are several productive centers of African studies in Japan. One of the oldest
(established in 1964) is the Institute for the Study of Languages and Cultures of Asia and
Africa (ILCAA) at the Tokyo University of Foreign Studies, which promotes wideranging study of the languages and verbal arts of African peoples in their cultural and
historical contexts. The Center for African Area Studies maintains Kyoto University’s
prominence in Japanese African studies through diverse research projects and
publications. The third major center of Africanist research is the National Museum of
Ethnology in Osaka, where scholars carry out a vigorous research and publications
program while presenting art and material culture displays from throughout Africa.
Africanist scholars are scattered throughout Japan at various universities and museums,
such as Nagoya University and the Little World Museum of Man near Inuyama, which
has many African exhibitions.
The various series published by the Institute for the Study of Languages and Cultures
of Asia and Africa (ILCAA) constitute the single most impressive body of African
folklore scholarship in Japan. Monographs in the ILCAA’s series, often the results of
team research projects, cover a variety of African cultures and present folk tale
collections in original languages as well as English or French translations, detailed
language studies, archival information, and historical texts. ILCAA’s various monograph
series demonstrate a keen interest in languages and linguistic analyses, with publication
of numerous language lists, questionnaires, texts, and manuals. Studies of taxonomies
and typologies dominate, with the folkloristic interest in ethnobotany and ethnozoology
reflecting links to ecological anthropology, an orientation that remains central in Japan.
Kyoto African Study Monographs continue to be another source of material in English by
Japanese Africanist folklorists. Although there are very few studies of visual arts or
performance, there is an increasing interest in urbanization and culture change.
It must be noted that these few words on the Japanese study of African folklore are
limited by the author’s lack of familiarity with the Japanese language. Far more research
has been published in Japanese. Nevertheless, there is an extraordinary amount of
excellent research published by Japanese scholars in English and French on African
folklore. It is hoped that more exchanges will take place, so that those outside of Japan
can benefit from the vast amount of research on African folklore by Japanese Africanists,
that adjustments will be made within Japanese universities so that courses on African
topics are more accessible, and that Japanese scholars will continue to make their
valuable researches available in European languages.
References
Peek, Philip M. 1990. Japanese Anthropological Research on Africa. African Studies Review
33:93–131.
Philips, John E. 1994. African Studies in Japan, paper presented at St. Antony’s College, Oxford
University, February 24.
Posnansky, Merrick, ed. 1992. Proceedings Japanese/American Workshop for Cooperation in
Africa. September 18–21. James S. Coleman African Studies Center, UCLA.
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Sofue, Takao. 1961. Anthropology in Japan: Historical Review and Modern Trends. In Biennial
Review of Anthropology 1961, ed. B. J.Siegel, pp. 57–72. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University
Press.
Tanno, Yasuko. 1989. African Studies in Japan. African Research and Documentation (University
of Birmingham UK): 28–31.
Tomikawa, Morimichi. 1971. Present Situation of African Anthropology in Japan. KBS Bulletin on
Japanese Culture 110:1–15.
PHILIP M.PEEK
JEWS OF ETHIOPIA
Today, the Beta Israel (or Falasha) of Ethiopia no longer live in Ethiopia, because most
of the community, numbering close to 65,000, had been airlifted to Israel, in two
operations in 1984 and 1991. When considering the folklore of this community, it is
essential to bear in mind that seldom has any community undergone so dramatic,
complete, and irreversible a change in so short a period of time.
In their homeland, the Beta Israel lived in northwestern Ethiopia, in approximately
five hundred small villages scattered across a vast, predominantly Christian and Muslim
territory. Although similar in appearance to their non-Jewish Amhara and Tigrinia
Ethiopian neighbors, the Beta Israel were an occupational as well as a religious minority.
Various oral traditions addressed the separate identity of the group. Some of these
traditions, incorporating legends of King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba, placed them
within the larger stream of Ethiopian history, while others posited them as a distinct
ethnic group that had come to Ethiopia from the ancient land of Israel, and had valiantly
preserved their faith for centuries. Their religion was rooted in the Old Testament, whose
commandments they meticulously observed, all the while awaiting the coming of the
Messiah and a return to the legendary Jerusalem.
Beta Israel’s folklore has been a focus of academic study and has inspired far-reaching
speculations regarding this group’s unique history and identity (Wurmbrand 1971;
Kessler 1982; Messing 1982; and, with different perspective, Shelemay 1989; Abbink
1992; Quirin 1992). Their folk traditions share much in common with local traditions, but
also exhibit characteristics reflecting the group’s Judaism and the centrality of Jewish
iden tity, including the intensive negotiations conducted by the group with its non-Jewish
Amhara and Tigrinia neighbors (Salamon 1999). These characteristics continued to
evolve and change as the Beta Israel had to fight for their place within world Jewry, and
even later, with the group’s immigration to Israel. In Ethiopia, most Beta Israel lay
community members were illiterate with a rich repertoire of oral traditions (Shelemay
1989; Quirin 1992). The Jewish religious leaders, however, like their Christian
counterparts, linked religious praxis with scripture by reading publicly from the holy
books written in Ge’ez, a language not understood by the majority of the community.
The Beta Israel’s distinct religious rituals include the holidays mentioned in the Bible,
maintained according to Ethiopian Jewish tradition and later influenced by extraEthiopian Jewish influences. An additional holiday not known in other Jewish
African folklore
390
communities is the Sigd. The Sigd is an annual pilgrimage holiday observed in Ethiopia
on the twenty-ninth day of the eighth month of the Ethiopian calendar; it is treated as
equally important as the biblically proscribed holidays. As a unique Jewish Ethiopian
holiday, the Sigd is still observed by the group in Israel.
Life cycle rituals of the Beta Israel traditionally comprised two stages, a religious and
a more general, social part. While the first was conducted by religious leaders and
directed towards group members, the social part, particularly in weddings, funerals, and
memorial services, was open to guests invited from neighboring communities and in
many ways resembles celebrations held by the neighboring groups. During the social part
of each religious group’s celebrations, however, care was taken to separate the Beta Israel
and other groups in regard to eating, particularly the consumption of meat (Salamon,
1999).
Circumcision, a ceremony that is highly symbolic in Judaism as ritualizing the special
covenant between God and the Jews, was less significant in Ethiopia; Ethiopian
Christians, like the Jews, conduct the same ceremony on the same day, the eighth day
following the birth of a male child. An additional category of biblically based rituals is
the one comprised of rituals related to female fertility and birth. During their menstrual
period, Beta Israel women were confined to a separate hut (“the house of blood”),
situated at the periphery of the Jewish huts in the village. A fence of stones demarcated
the boundaries of this impure area as distinct from the rest of the village dwellings, and
only after performing a purification ritual, was the woman allowed to rejoin the
community. This practice was based on a verse from the Old Testament (Lev. 15:19).
Beta Israel also considered the postbirth period as impure (forty days for a boy, eighty for
a girl), in accordance with Leviticies, 12:2–6.
The Beta Israel specialized in specific crafts: blacksmithing and weaving for men,
pottery for women. While they traditionally prepared vessels for agricultural work and
cooking, over the past few decades, due to increased contact with international Jewry,
they also began producing small clay statues, usually of biblical figures, for tourists who
visited their villages.
The expressive folklore of Beta Israel is particularly rich, comprising genres similar to
those of its non-Jewish Ethiopian neighbors. One example is the use of complex spoken
expressions with multiple and hidden meanings known as “Wax and Gold” (Levine 1965)
that require a high level of language mastery and advanced use of symbol. Most of the
Beta Israel folktales overlap with pan-Ethiopian folktales such as trickster stories of Abba
Gabra-hanna or animal stories, but Beta Israel also have their own stories of historic
encounters and competitions between Jews and Christians, stories of Jewish martyrs, and
tales of Jewish holy sites (Alexander and Einat 1996).
The Beta Israel also have a rich repertoire of sayings and proverbs that combine
Amhara and Tigrinya material with particular expressions understood only by group
members, mostly regarding their Muslim and Christian neighbors (Salamon 1995).
The realm of magic is another shared, yet separate, folkloric realm. While the Jews of
Ethiopia fully share popular Ethiopian conceptions of magic, their neighbors have
accused them of possessing supernatural powers. Beta Israel specialization in
blacksmithing and pottery making was treated with ambivalence by neighboring groups,
who attributed supernatural powers to the Jewish artisans. They were perceived as Buda,
the mythical Ethiopian hyena, who possesses the power to transform into human form
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during daytime and thus crosses the boundary between human and nonhuman. Although
the image of the Buda is also associated with other groups in Ethiopia, Beta Israel’s
Christian neighbors related it to their Jewishness, tying it to traditional anti-Jewish
accusations. As “Hyena People,” the Beta Israel were feared for their “eating,” that is,
their sucking the blood of living victims or of recently buried cadavers, which they were
said to exhume and use for alimentary and ritual purposes. The Christians took special
care to protect themselves against such alleged offenses (Salamon in press).
The dramatic change undergone by the group upon their immigration to Israel takes
expression in various forms of folklore, particularly those connected with language. The
importance of oral tradition in Beta Israel culture is fast disappearing due to a loss of
influence and close contact with the elders and replacement of traditional dialects with
spoken Hebrew (Kaplan and Rosen 1993). The various spoken forms of folklore are thus
undergoing dramatic changes that reflect the overall changes affecting the group. At the
same time, new forms and folk traditions are emerging in Israel, the folklore of an ethnic
group within a multicultural society that brings out the Ethiopian, not the Jewish, aspect
of Beta Israel identity (Salamon 2003). There is a growing number of Ethiopian folk
dance groups and craft objects on which the colors of the Ethiopian flag, reminders of
village life in Ethiopia, and animal sculptures figure prominently at the expense of Jewish
topics once expressed in Beta Israel folk art while they still lived in Ethiopia.
References
Alexander, Tamar, and Amela Einat (eds.). 1996. Tarat Tarat. Jewish Folktales from Ethiopia. Tel
Aviv: Miskal (in Hebrew).
Abbink, Jan, G. 1992. L’enigme de 1’ethnogenese des Beta Israel—Une approach anthropohistorique de leurs mytho-legende. Cahiers d’etudes Africaines.
Kaplan, Steven, and Chaim Rosen. 1993. Ethiopian Immigrants in Israel: Between Preservation of
Culture and invention of Traditions, The Jewish Journal of Sociology 35 no. 1:35–48.
Kessler, David. 1982. The Falashas—The Forgotten Jews of Ethiopia. London: George Allen &
Unwin.
Levine, Donald N. 1965. Wax and Gold: Tradition and Innovation in Ethiopian Culture. Chicago:
The University of Chicago Press.
Messing, Simon. D. 1982. The Story of the Falashas—Black Jews of Ethiopia. Brooklyn: Balshon
Printing and Offiet.
Quirin, James. 1992. The Evolution of the Ethiopian Jews: A History of the Beta Israel (Falasha) to
1920. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press.
Salamon, Hagar. 1995. Metaphors as Corrective Exegesis—Three Proverbs of the Beta-Israel.
Proverbium 12:295–313.
——. 2003. Blackness in Transition: Decoding Racial Construct through Stories of Ethiopian Jews,
Journal of Folklore Research, 40, no. 1:3–32.
——. In press. The Hyena People: Ethiopian Jews in Christian Ethiopia. Berkeley: University of
California Press.
Shelemay, Kay Kaufman. 1989. Music, Ritual, and Falasha History. East Lansing, MI: Michigan
State University Press.
Wurmbrand, Max. 1971. Falashas. Encyclopaedia Judaica 6, Jerusalem: Keter.
HAGAR SALAMON
See also Music: Arab and Jewish Music of North Africa; Northeastern Africa
(The Horn): Overview
African folklore
392
JOKES AND HUMOR
Joke may refer to any narration, action, or interaction that, judging from the response it
receives from listeners or the audience, is considered to be humorous. Jokes are
humorous and often evoke laughter, but performers must be very careful about when and
where they are performed. A joke performed at the wrong time or place not only
impoverishes discourse but it may constitute a mark of incompetence and loss of social
prestige on the part of the performer. Such a joke is not likely to evoke laughter in the
audience. Excellent joke performances are usually appreciated by other members of the
community. It must be borne in mind, however, that excellence is not necessarily
equivalent to frequency of performance. To preserve one’s social prestige, one always
avoids strategies that might jeopardize one’s competence at telling jokes. Competent joke
performers are those who have absolute control over when to joke and when to make
serious points in their talk.
Humor, under which the joke genre may be subsumed, has attracted researchers from
disciplines including philosophy (see Hobbes 1651, Bergson 1956); sociology (Faulkner
1987, Francis 1988); psychology (Freud 1960, Piddington 1963, Rothbart 1977, Russell
1987); literary studies (Andrews 1977, Barksdale 1984); anthropology (Apte 1985);
linguistics (Raskin 1985, Attardo 1994); and folklore (Dorson 1966, Dundes 1977,
Davies 1990, Oring 1992). However, the bulk of pioneering work in this field of study, as
Apte (1985) points out, has been by psychologists, who began full-scale scientific inquiry
into the subject in the early 1960s.
Jokes, as a folklore genre, have appeared under different names, including humorous
folktale, jocular folktale, humorous anecdote, merry tale, farcical tale, and jest, in
folkloristics (Baker 1986). Though it is clear that most people know and tell jokes at one
time or another, jokes were still among the least collected and understood forms of
folklore in the early 1970s (Baker 1986). Early works on jokes have focused on issues
including subject matter (see Dorson 1966), their relationship with other genres (Dégh
1976), and their social significance (Dundes 1977, Oring 1992).
In spite of the enormous strides made so far by folklore scholars, very little work has
been done on African humor in general and the joke in particular. Radcliffe-Brown
(1940) discusses the joking relationship (what he describes as “permitted disrespect”) as
it exists in different places of the world, including Africa, distinguishing between two
varieties—the symmetrical joke relationship and the asymmetrical joke relationship. He
describes the symmetrical type as one in which each of the two participants teases or
makes fun of the other, while asymmetrical joke relationship allows only one of the
participants to joke at the expense of the other. Radcliffe-Brown’s account follows earlier
notes on the subject by scholars, including F.J.Pedler Henri Labouret and Denise Paulme.
Brempong (1978) makes an indirect reference to the joke genre in his folkloristic
study of verbal insults among the Bono, a subgroup of the Akan people of Ghana in West
Africa. He indirectly connects jokes with insults, indicating that some insults and youth
game songs are known to exist in joke form. He goes on to mention that most comedy
series on American television would not be humorous without insults. Broadening the
scope to cover other ethnic groups in Ghana, we may mention Daniel K.Avorgbedor, who
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illustrates, in his essay on haló performance among the Anlo-Ewe, how humor, open
confrontations, and insults may be conveyed through song (1994).
As argued in the latest study of jokes and joking among the Akan (see AduAmankwahd 2003), every mature Akan person seems to have an internal storehouse of
jokes, and it takes the right audience or interaction to bring out the jokes within. Two or
more people gather at a place, something happens, and a related joke heard before or a
funny situation witnessed previously is remembered and told. The usual practice is for the
individual to keep humorous events for use at appropriate times in future interactions
with other members of the community.
The sociolinguistic factor of age is important in the performance of jokes among the
Akan since jokes are normally passed from adult to adult or from adult to child, but rarely
from child to adult. It is also normal for jokes to be told by one child to another. Gender
is, however, irrelevant in Akan joke telling. A male teller may perform for a male or
female or mixed audience and vice versa.
??? The Akan have the sister terms aseresєm and nsєnkwaa to refer to the joke genre.
These terms are not interchangeable since the performer of nsєnkwaa, unlike that of
aseresєm, often has laughter in mind. His or her main aim is to make a humorous
statement to attract laughter from the audience, but humor or laughter is of little or no
importance to the aseresєm performer. In other words, nsєnkwaa is a ka-ma-yєnsere
(“say-it-and-let’s-laugh”) sort of utterance, whereas aseresєm may be a serious statement
turned humorous. Aseresєm is often based on previous events, but nsєnkwaa need not
have a historical base. Not only may nsєnkwaa be made up on the spur of the moment,
but it may also be replete with instances of exaggeration, all aimed at evoking laughter in
the audience. ???
There is a close relationship between jokes and some other genres within the Akan
society. For instance, joke performers may make use of proverbs for humorous effect in
their narrations. The humor that such proverbs evoke is aided by the fact that the
sociocultural truths contained in the proverbs are already known to the intended
recipients. Unlike proverbs, however, jokes do not impose strict contextual
considerations upon their understanding and appreciation. Apart from jokes in
conversation, where the joke is often a response to an ongoing interaction, sociocultural
background knowledge may be sufficient for a clear understanding and appreciation of
most jokes.
Since jokes are often built in the form of stories, they are closely related to other
narrative genres, such as folktale (anansesєm). The main difference between joke
narration and the narration of a folktale, however, is that anansesєm often has a fixed
opening formula and normally ends with the current narrator appointing someone to
succeed him or her in the narration process. A joke narrative, on the contrary, has
multiple opening formulae, and the next narrators are often unknown until begin their
narration. Moreover, a joke may enter into intricate combinations with other genres such
as folk song and graffiti.
In addition to some of the basic functions already discussed in the humor literature
(such as the reflection of societal concerns, promotion of satirical statements against
individuals who violate ethnic group boundaries, making light of a serious problem,
releasing tension, bringing people together, and entertaining), Akan jokes may be a
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pragmatic tool for effecting command. Rather than give direct orders, individuals may
use jokes to compel the addressee eventually to do things.
The identification of the basic characteristic features of jokes and joking among the
Akan of Ghana (Africa for that matter) has set the stage for comparative studies,
beginning, perhaps, with other regions in Ghana, then widening the scope to cover subSaharan in the Diaspora with African diasporic experiences, with the ultimate goal of
examining the similarities and differences (if any) between African folklore and African
American folklore.
References
Adu-Amankwah, David, (forthcoming). An Ethnopragmatic Study of Jokes and Joking in an Akan
Community. Ph.D. dissertation, Indiana University, Bloomington.
Andrews, Clarence A. 1977. The Comic Element in Iowa Literature. In American Humor, ed.
O.M.Brack, Scottsdale, Arizo: Arete.
Apte, Mahadev L. 1985. Humor and Laughter: An Anthropological Approach. Ithaca: Cornell
University Press.
Attardo, Salvatore. 1994. Linguistic Theories of Humor. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter.
Avorgbedor, Daniel K. 1994. Freedom to Sing, License to Insult: The Influence of Haló
Performance on Social Violence among the Anlo Ewe. Oral Tradition 9, no. 1:83–112.
Baker, Ronald L. 1986. Jokelore: Humorous Folktales from Indiana. Bloomington: Indiana
University Press.
Barksdale, Richard K. 1984. History, Slavery, and Thematic Irony in Huckleberry Finn. Mark
Twain journal 22, no. 2:17–20.
Bergson, Henri. [1901] 1956. Laughter. In Comedy, ed. Wylie Sypher, Garden City, New York:
Doubleday/Anchor, (originally, published as Le rire. Essai sur la signification du comique.
Paris: Presses Universitaires de France.).
Brempong, Owusu. Attacking Deviation from the Norm: Insults in Bono—Ghana. Unpublished
M.A. thesis, Indiana University, 1978.
Davies, Christie. 1990. Ethnic Humor Around the World: A Comparative Analysis. Bloomington:
Indiana University Press.
Dégh, Linda. 1976. Symbiosis of Joke and Legend: A Case of Conversational Folklore. In Folklore
Today: A Festschrift for Richard M.Dorson, ed. Linda Dégh, Henry Classic, and Felix Oinas,
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Dorson, Richard M. 1966. American Folklore. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Dundes, Alan. 1977. Jokes and Covert Language Attitudes; the Curious Case of the Wide-Mouth
Frog. Language in Society 6: 141–7.
Faulkner, Joseph E. 1987. Sociology through Humor. New York: West.
Francis, Roy G. 1987. Some Sociology of Humor: The Joke. International Social Science Review
63, no. 4:158–64.
Freud, Sigmund. 1960. Jokes and their Relation to the Unconscious. New York: W.W. -Norton.
Hobbes, Thomas. 1651. Leviathan. London: Crooke.
Labouret, Henri. La Parenté a Plaisanteries en Afrique Occidentale. Africa 2:244.
Oring, Elliott. 1992. Jokes and their Relations. Lexington: The University Press of Kentucky.
Paulme, Denise. Parenté a Plaisanteries et Alliance par le Sang en Afrique Occidentale. Africa
12:433.
Pedler, F.J. 1940. Joking Relationships in East Africa. Africa 13: 170.
Piddington, Ralph. 1963. From Plato to Freud: The Psychology of Laughter. New York: Gamut
Press.
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Radcliffe-Brown A.R. 1940. On Joking Relationships. Africa: Journal of the International Institute
of African Languages and Cultures 13:195–210.
Raskin, Victor. 1985. Semantic Mechanisms of Humor. D.Reidel.
Rothbart, Mary K. 1977. Psychological Approaches to the Study of Humor. In It’s a Funny Thing,
Humour, ed. Antony Chapman and Hugh Foot. New York: Pergamon.
Russell, Roy E. 1987. Life, Mind, and Laughter: A Theory of Laughter. Chicago, Adams.
DAVID ADU-AMANKWAH
See also Cartoons; Insults and Ribald Language
JOKING RELATIONSHIPS
The terms joking relationships, joking partnerships, or joking alliances have been applied
by anthropologists to certain institutionalized social relationships that are characterized
by unusual freedom of behavior, termed privileged license or privileged familiarity, that
would be inappropriate or highly insulting in any other context. Participants in such
relationships may, in certain situations, joke openly, even obscenely, about each other’s
family, personal habits, or occupation, and “snatch” personal items from one another.
Anthropologists were interested in such relationships in many areas of the world for
about fifty years, from the 1920s to the 1970s, especially when “structural”
considerations were predominant in anthropological theory; such behavior was seen as
integral to the social structure, as participation is obligatory in most instances and failure
to reciprocate can strain a relationship. Early analyses of kin-based joking relationships,
following the theory of A.R. Radcliffe-Brown (1940, 1949), presumed that the joking
behavior served to alleviate some underlying tension or disjunction in the relationship,
such as that between a man and his mother-in-law, or grandparents and grandchildren, or
cross-cousins, or to lighten a relationship of heavy responsibility, such as between a man
and his maternal uncle in a matrilineal society. Many other scholars elaborated on
Radcliffe-Brown’s ideas, and African studies were central in this anthropological interest
in joking relationships.
Later studies focused on joking between groups or individuals in nonfamilial
relationships—age-mates (see Mayer 1951), clans, residential groups, occupational
groups, and whole societies—and showed that such joking may be based in a number of
factors other than potential conflict, such as historical association, geographical location,
shared interests which might or might not generate competition, and simple friendship. In
such cases, the privileged license demonstrates the exclusive nature of the relationship, a
standard function of the “in-joke” among individuals and groups worldwide. Numerous
cases of interfamilial and interclan joking, like the Tanzanian custom of utani and others
throughout sub-Saharan Africa, received much attention (see Christensen 1963).
Widespread instances of “funeral friendship,” irreverent joking behavior between clans at
funerals—culminating in the theft for ransom of the corpse from the funeral procession—
attracted early interest. Institutionalized joking between societies was found to be
extensive in Africa, explained variously as arising out of situations of dominance, or
stalemated hostility, or early friendly association.
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From the 1940s through the 1960s, several journals, notably Africa, African Studies,
Man, and American Anthropologist carried many studies on the subject.
Content of Joking Exchanges
The verbal and behavioral content of institutionalized joking conforms to specific cultural
norms governing situational behavior, but it may often indicate the defining nature of the
relationship. For example, members of patrilineal clans who share joking relationships
with others may make derogatory comments about the others’ fathers, or patrilines, since
that is the basis for their clan membership and their relationship, but in their joking
exchanges, they make no mention of matrilineal kin. On the other hand, age-mates joke
freely about the other’s mother since it is birth from their mothers and their mothers’
having placed them together as children that defines their relationship; here, the father is
irrelevant. The closest friendship relationships typically develop among age-mates, and,
in their joking, they may make the most intimate personal references. Members of clans,
residential and occupational groups, and neighboring societies joke about specific aspects
of their relationship and each other’s alleged behavior and habits, singling out aspects of
one another’s history, or ecology, or capabilities, or important cultural features, but avoid
direct personal references. In general, the closer the relationship, the greater the liberality
of license allowed.
Bachama clan joking partners rush the
funeral procession and seize the bier
supporting the body, which they will
hold for ransom. Photo © Phillips
Stevens, Jr.
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At a funeral in the kingdom of
Bachama, women mock men. The
woman in front has hung a calabash
under her skirt to represent oversized
genitals, which she swings and thrusts.
Photo © Phillips Stevens, Jr.
The permissible content of different levels, or categories, of joking relationships may
be illustrated by reference to Bachama, now preferably called Bwatiye, a small kingdom
along the Benue River in Adamawa Province, Nigeria (Stevens 1978, 1980, 1991).
Bachama recognize several named categories of the institutionalized joking relationship,
called gboune, each distinguished by permissible language, behavior, use of singular or
plural second or third personal pronouns, and whether or not kin references are allowed
in their joking exchanges. Joking in the closest relationships may be characterized by
dasoto (insult), in which direct speech containing specific references to one’s person are
permissible; relationships based on looser association, between people of far different age
or status, and people who meet only occasionally are restricted to ozoto (banter), in which
no personal references are made and the third personal pronoun is used.
The most important category, gbouno surato (the “original joking relationship”), is
shared between clans who established close ties during the “times of the beginnings”
(tufo vurato, “the traveling of the world”), the mythical times of the original settling of
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the people, and still maintain cooperative relations. Participants can joke publicly about
one another’s fathers and grandfathers, including using the generic term for the genitals,
e.g., “vo do bagu (jigu)!” (your father’s [grandfather’s] balls!), said in a sneering way.
They may “snatch” possessions away from one another, save only articles of clothing on
the body, tethered animals, or objects within the compound. A favorite theme of their
joking is some unique characteristic of one or the other: “You worthless people, you
never learned to (hunt, fish, make canoes, sing songs, use herbal medicines, etc.)—our
grandfathers had to show you how (or do it for you)!” The word ba, (“worthless,” or
“useless,”), is a serious insult in a society in which achievement is highly rewarded.
People who share gbouno surato participate in funerals for one another’s distinguished
elders, arriving early and performing valuable tasks for the bereaved; but later, when the
ceremony is under way, they group themselves near to the compound of the deceased and
loudly engage in various forms of outlandish behavior (see Stevens 1991). People dress
well when attending a funeral; the gbounye wear shabby, torn, or soiled clothes. While
performing parodies of popular songs and dances, they mock the deceased, his station in
life, and his clan, declaring their lowly origins, their laziness and stinginess, and making
fun of the characteristics for which that clan is known: its historical accomplishments, its
name, its principal occupation. Cross-dressed, men and women mock each other, and all
make mockery of the noblest values of the society. They snatch away food intended by
the bereaved for guests and declare how meager it is, that it is spoiled and unfit for
people. And they cap off their show by roughly “stealing” the body from the funeral
procession, wresting it from the pallbearers and running away with it, returning it only
after extracting a sum of money from the deceased’s relatives. Bachama prize cleverness
of words and dramatic performance; such funeral performances are rehearsed at home,
and the cleverness and originality of their routines are noted by other clans. They
obviously function to alleviate grief; such behavior takes place only at the funeral of an
elder. For a young person, when grief is especially deep, such behavior is inappropriate,
and gbounye participation is completely serious. And the “ransom” paid for return of the
body is recognized as compensation for the labor the joking partners have given to the
bereaved.
Age-mates of the same sex share relationships of gbouno dasoto, according to how old
their friendship may be. If it goes back to infancy (nduwouno bo kuze, “age-friendship
from lying on a mat”), they may make verbal jokes about the persons of one another’s
mothers and grandmothers, even focusing on their genitals, using the second person
singular pronoun to each other. In referring to other relatives, they use the third person,
for example, to the other’s wife: “Just listen to this worthless woman.” She will laugh,
but will respond only lightly: “Well then, you two just go off to your beer-house and find
yourselves another woman!” The same verbal license is permitted between women as
between men, but between the sexes, no genital references are made, and references to
one another’s bodies are generally superficial. The label “ba!” may be the most extreme
insult tolerable in public situations.
The category of gbouno peto (gboune of meeting), operates between age-mates whose
relationships began late in their lives, and between individuals and groups who have long
and regular relationships based on common interests, proximity of residence, or other
factors that bring them together regularly. Individual participants may abuse each other
directly, using the second personal pronoun, but they indulge in a lighter form of dasoto;
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they avoid references about their fathers, and they use the third person when joking about
one another’s mothers. In such contexts they may refer only to visible attributes; for
example, “Look at his mother’s legs! His mother is bow-legged!” or “Look at his
mother’s breasts, how they swing and bobble!” Referring to spouses or children of their
age-mates, their abusive language will refer only to the other, not to his or her family: for
example, “Just look at the wife (children) of this useless man!” and the wife or children
will show amusement, but will not respond.
An important relationship of gbouno peto exists between people who live along the
banks (zaŋe) or tributaries of the Benue River, who have adapted to a river ecology, and
people who live inland, in areas away from the river. The former are Ji-zaŋe, (people of
the banks), the latter, Ji-bawe (“people of the bush”). Regardless of what other categories
of gboune they might share, their ecology alone gives rise to earnest and popular joking
competitions, most often expressed in singing contests. Group singing is a popular
pastime. Local communities have their own choral groups, which meet frequently to
rehearse new songs and perform publicly at a variety of social or religious occasions.
Their songs extol specific accomplishments of their own members and belittle those of
their rivals. Song contests provide entertainment, establish reputations, and sometimes
can be the means of settling disputes between certain groups. Contests between Ji-zaŋe
and Ji-bawe singers are popular and draw large crowds. Sometimes they are adjudicated
by the king himself.
Relationships characterized by ozoto (play) and hyesoto (teasing) are maintained
among people whose relationships are based in periodic informal meetings, between
whom a causal friendship develops. This category includes those who share a more
distant age-mate relationship, called nduwouno matto (age-friendship of maturity), which
generally exists between adults whose ages are within two to four years of each other and
persons of opposite sexes, who meet regularly only for public social occasions. In ozoto
joking, no references to kin are made and references to one’s personal appearance are
always in the third person; the second person is used only when the object of the joke is
not part of one’s body or attire, and then the plural pronoun is used most often. A
subcategory of ozoto joking is gbouno fore (gboune by day), established among people
who meet together on formal occasions over long periods of time, whose relationship is
based in those occasions, and who may joke only during those occasions. Hyesoto
(teasing) is permitted downward between people of unequal status who have established
familiarity after long association, that is, an employer, or a master, may make fun of his
employee, or apprentice, who will show delight but will not respond.
Gboune is not recognized among kin; but a light ozoto is permitted during relaxed
situations between children and their grandparents, including actual grandparents or
elders of the grandparental generation, or elders of a clan that shares gboune with the clan
of their fathers and who are close friends to their family. A typical exchange might be:
Children: Jiji (grandfather), isn’t it time for you to die?
Why do you want to live so long, eating up all the Guinea-corn so that
your grandchildren have none?
Grandfather: Just listen to these useless children! What kind of a world
is this becoming, that they have no respect for their elders? It would be
better that Pagla (the griffon vulture, genus Gyps) carries them away!
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Such relationships conform to Radcliffe-Brown’s (1940) observations about joking
between relatives, reported among numerous other sub-Saharan societies.
Certain Bwatiye clans and villages claim joking relationships with other societies with
whom they have had long historical relationships. Some of these are requited, some are
not. A close relationship of ozoto is recognized with the Kona Jukun, Chamba Daka, and
Jen, who are regarded as equals, and those societies’ traditions agree. Bwatiye also
practice a light hyesoto with the Bwaza (Bare) people to their north, who are distantly
related to the Mbula, with whom the Bwatiye intermarry and who are regarded as “too
close for gboune.” Bwaza traditions acknowledge close historical relationship with
Bwatiye, but they do not recognize a joking relationship with them. And both Bwatiye
and Chamba look down upon the Mumuye who maintain a difficult existence in the arid
hills around Chamba. Based in a legend about a culture ‘hero who toyed with the
Mumuye, Bwatiye indulge in hyesoto with those who come into their villages to take
menial jobs, but Mumuye recognize no relationship of any sort with Bwatiye.
There are other named categories of gboune, obtaining among people with specific
privileged relationships. All such relationships have latent sociological significance, but
all serve important public functions of humor and entertainment. Bwatiye say the
institution of gboune was given its antic attributes by ŋburum, the trickster of folktales
(Stevens 1980) who claimed gboune with people and animals whom he was plotting to
deceive, or with whom he had gotten himself into embarrassing situations. The role of
ŋburum, as expressed in some well-known tale, might be evoked by any person playing
the clown in a social situation.
References
Christensen, James B. 1963. Utani: Joking, Sexual License, and Social Categories among the
Luguru. American Anthropologist 65: 1314–27.
Mayer, Philip. 1951. The Joking of “Pals” in Gusii Age-Sets. African Studies 10:27–41.
Radcliffe-Brown, A.R. 1940. On Joking Relationships. Africa 13: 195–210.
——. 1949. A Further Note on Joking Relationships. Africa 19: 133–40.
Stevens, Phillips, Jr. 1978. Bachama Joking Categories: Toward New Perspectives in the Study of
Joking Relationships. Journal of Anthropological Research 34:47–71.
——. 1980. The Bachama Trickster as Model for Clowning Behavior. In The Cultural Context:
Essays in Honor of Edward Norbeck, ed. Christine M.S.Drake. Houston: Rice University
Studies 66:137–50.
——. 1991. Play and Liminality in Rites of Passage: From Elder to Ancestor in West Africa. Play
and Culture 4:237–57.
PHILLIPS STEVENS, JR.
See also Gender Representation in African Folklore; Insults and Ribald
Language; Jokes and Humor
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K
KAMBA
See Tourism and Tourist Arts
KENYA (REPUBLIC OF KENYA)
Located on the coast of East Africa, Kenya’s neighbors are Somalia, Ethiopia, Sudan,
Uganda, and Tanzania. Of Kenya’s more than 30 million people, 21 percent are Kikuyu,
14 percent Luhya, 13 percent Luo, 11 percent Kalenjin, 11 percent Kamba, and 30
percent belong to various other ethnic groups. The major languages spoken in the nation
are English, Kiswahili, Kikuyu Luo, Kamba, Kipsigi, Maasai, and Luhya. Thirty-eight
percent of the population is Protestant, 28 percent practices traditional indigenous
religions, 28 percent is Catholic, and 6 percent is Muslim. With a population of 2 million,
Nairobi is Kenya’s capital and largest city. Kenya’s climate ranges from tropical to arid.
The Kikuyu and Maasai peoples controlled much of what came to be known as Kenya,
with the coastal areas under loose Arab rule from the sixteenth to nineteenth centuries.
By 1895, the British gained control as the East African Protectorate and in 1920 formally
established the colony of Kenya. From 1952 to 1960, the freedom struggle called the Mau
Mau uprising caused the deaths of thirteen thousand Africans and one hundred English.
On December 12, 1963, Kenya gained its independence from Britain after sixty-eight
years under colonial rule with Jomo Kenyatta as the first president. While the ensuing
years of economic growth have transformed the nation into the commercial center of East
Africa, the majority of Kenya’s citizens remain impoverished. In 1969, the nation
reverted to a one-party state, and the government subsequently grew more repressive
throughout the 1980s under Daniel T.Arap Moi, who took over after Kenyatta’s death in
1978. Despite the return of a multiparty government in 1991, the nation has been marred
by interethnic violence and political instability but citizens are reassured by recent
elections.
Kenya’s natural resources include wildlife, land, soda ash, and wattle, while
agricultural production centers around tea, corn, wheat, rice, sugarcane, coffee, sisal,
pyrethrum, and livestock. It is not well known that Kenya is the world’s largest exporter
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of tea. Principle industries include petroleum products, cement, beer, automobile
assembly, and food processing. Tourism is once again increasing.
Kenya’s government demonstrates a strong commitment to education, as it contributes
half of its annual government expenditures to educational programs. Unfortunately,
culture and politics are closely tied in the country and, even today, if artistic work is not
in agreement with the ideals of the government, it may be destroyed.
JENNIFER JOYCE
KONGO
See Cardinal Directions; Central African Folklore: Overview; Divination
KWANZAA
Kwanzaa, spelled Kwanza in the original Swahili, is a secular African American holiday
based on the traditional harvest festivals celebrated by many African societies. Beginning
on December 26 and ending on January 1, the seven-day holiday celebrates African
American heritage, pride, community, family and culture. Its rituals and symbols
combine traditional African practices with African American aspirations and ideals.
Following the 1965 Watts riots in Los Angeles, California, Dr. Maulana Karenga
(later a professor at California State University at Long Beach) created Kwanzaa in 1966
as a celebration and affirmation of the virtues of an African identity and ancestry. He
established the holiday based on African first-fruit harvest celebrations. The word
Kwanzaa is derived from the Swahili phrase matunda ya kwanza, which means “first
fruits.”
According to Karenga, Kwanzaa is organized around five fundamental activities
common to African first-fruit celebrations:
• the gathering of the people to reinforce the bonds between them, especially the bonds of
family, community, and culture;
• special reverence for the Creator and Creation, in gratitude for the bounty and goodness
of the earth and with a commitment to preserve and protect it;
• commemoration of the past, to fulfill the obligation to remember and honor ancestors,
and to teach and reaffirm African history;
• renewed commitment to the highest African cultural, ethical, and spiritual values, that
bring forth the best of what it means to be African and human; and
• celebration of all that is good in life, of the family, community, and culture, of
relationships, of old age and youth, of knowledge and sharing, of work and wonder,
and of all things of benefit and blessing (Karenga 1999, 1).
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Using these elements common to African first-fruit celebrations, Karenga created and
placed at the center of the holiday seven principles, called Nguzo Saba, which define the
meaning of the holiday and its rituals. Each day is dedicated to one of the seven
principles:
December 26: Umoja (unity): a commitment to the practice of
togetherness, both within the family and the community;
December 27: Kujichagulia (self-determination): the interest of
developing and patterning African American lives and images after
peoples of African descent instead of others;
December 28: Ujima (collective work and responsibility): working
together and supporting each other on matters of common interest;
December 29: Ujamaa (cooperative economics): the habit of sharing
wealth and resources within the community and among black people;
December 30: Nia (purpose-building): developing a national
community;
December 31: Kuumba (creativity): inspiring black people to keep
developing new ways of expressing their music and art, as well as being
creative in work and industrial pursuits; and
January 1: Imani (faith): believing in the humanity of African peoples.
The Ritual
Beginning on December 26, and on each of the subsequent days, households, and even
entire communities, participate in a proscribed ritual. The setting for this ritual includes a
kinara, a candle holder with seven candles (mishumaa saba), which represent the seven
principles, placed on a table decorated with African cloth or a straw mat (mkeka). The
center candle is black for the color of the African American people. The three red candles
symbolize their struggles and three green candles symbolize their hopes. The family
places on the table a basket of fruit and vegetables (mazao, meaning crops), ears of corn
(vibunzi) for each child in the household (or, if no children are in the household, one ear
of corn representing the potential for children), a unity cup (kikombe cha umola), and
other heritage symbols such as books, family pictures, and a copy of the nguzu saba. The
black nationalist flag of red, black, and green (bendera) may also be hung with the red at
the top, or, if hung vertically, with the red on the flag’s right. Since great emphasis is
placed on rejecting the gross commercialism of Christmas gift giving, gifts are optional,
usually given only to children every evening or on the last evening. Only certain types of
gifts appropriate to the holiday are recommended, such as crafts, art, and handmade gifts;
books about Africa and African Americans; and other cultural gifts.
On each day of Kwanzaa, an elder calls the family together. People greet each other
saying, “Habari gani,” meaning, “What’s the news?” or “What’s happening?” The
response to the greeting is the name of the day. On December 29, people would respond,
“Ujamaa.” Water or juice is poured from the unity cup for libations (blessings and
prayers) for the elders and for the family’s future. A child or youth lights the candle for
the day, and everyone drinks water or juice from the unity cup. In affirmation of African
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culture, the family discusses the meaning of the principle by reciting a story, poem, or
history about Africans or African Americans.
Near the end of the holiday, usually the evening of December 31, the family or
community gathers for a feast, called karamu. A typical karamu features African and
African American traditional foods; wearing of African attire; and African and African
American performances, music, and dancing. The feast ends with the final passing of the
unity cup, shouts of “Harambee!” meaning, “Let’s pull together,” and prayers or
blessings.
Significance
Kwanzaa is the first nonheroic African American holiday ever to come into existence.
Inspired by the black power movement of the 1960s and based on ancient African
celebrations, African Americans have been celebrating the holiday since 1965. By the
1990s, it had become increasingly popular and celebrated by more than 25 million people
in the United States, Canada, England, the Caribbean, and Africa.
Kwanzaa is not a religious holiday. Its celebration in December, strategically placed
after Christmas, does not challenge religious celebrations and beliefs; rather, it coexists
with other holidays. Many African American families, if not most, celebrate Christmas
and Kwanzaa. In fact, Kwanzaa’s celebrants emphasize that it is a nondenominational,
nonreligious, family and cultural celebration. In some communities, its secular nature has
made it the only December observance that can be celebrated using public funds, as it
does not challenge the separation between church and state. Since October 1997, the U.S.
Postal Service has issued a Kwanzaa commemorative stamp during the holiday season.
For most African Americans, Kwanzaa, unlike the celebration of Martin Luther King,
Jr. Day in January or Black History Month in February, resonates with the cultural
affirmation and political confrontations of the mid to late 1960s. Yet, in spite of its
origins in the 1960s black power movement and its affirmation under the philosophies of
Afrocentrism in the 1980s, by the 1990s, Kwanzaa was enthusiastically embraced by
American popular culture. It became more than an African American celebration; it was
thoroughly integrated—some might say coopted—into the marketplace and sold to the
American public in the form of Kwanzaa cards and wrapping paper; fabric for African
clothing and decorations; recognition on television and radio advertisements,
announcements, and programming; and incorporated into civic celebrations at public
libraries, museums, performances, and schools.
Kwanzaa’s commercialization has affirmed the ability of American capitalism to turn
culture and philosophy into marketable goods. Yet, in spite of its commercialization,
Kwanzaa’s integration into every arena of America’s holiday season and its acceptance
and popularity among African Americans has also affirmed the reality of American
society’s diversity and pluralism and the impact that African American life and culture
have had on American society.
African Americans
405
References
Asante, Molefi Kete. 1999. Karenga, Maulana Ndabezitha. Encarta Africana 2000. Microsoft.
Copage, Eric. 1991. Kwanzaa: An African-American Celebration of Culture and Cooking. New
York: Morrow.
Karenga, Maulana. 1980. Kawaida Theory: An Introductory Outline. Inglewood, Calif.: Kawaida.
——. 1998. Kwanzaa: A Celebration of Family, Community and Culture. Los Angeles, Calif.:
University of Sankore Press.
——. 1999. Kwanzaa. Encarta Africana 2000. Microsoft. Kwanzaa Information Center at
http://www.melanet.co/kwanzaa
Magubane, Bernard. 1987. The Ties That Bind: African American Consciousness of Africa.
Trenton, NJ: Africa World Press.
Martin, Waldo. 1996. Maulana Karenga. In The Encyclopedia of African-American Culture and
History, ed. Jack Salzman et al., vol. 3. New York: Macmillan, p. 1526.
Nuruddin, Mansur M., and Robyn Spencer. 1996. Kawaida. In The Encyclopedia of AfricanAmerican Culture and History, ed. Jack Salzman et al., vol. 3, pp. 1527–28. New York:
Macmillan.
Riley, Dorothy Winbush. 1995. The Complete Kwanzaa: Celebrating Our Cultural Harvest. New
York: HarperCollins.
Yousef, Nancy, and Robyn Spencer. 1996. Kwanza. In The Encyclopedia of African-American
Culture and History, ed. Jack Salzman et al., vol. 3, pp. 1560–61. New York: Macmillan.
LILLIE J.EDWARDS
See also Diaspora; African Communities in the USA (African Immigrant
Expressive Culture)
African folklore
406
L
LANGUAGES
Africa has about 1,727 languages (two-thirds of the world’s languages). Africanist
linguists including Joseph Greenberg (1966) have classified African languages
genetically into four families: Niger-Kordofanian, Afro-Asiatic, Khoisan, and NiloSaharan.
Niger-Kordofanian Languages
This language family is made up of Niger-Congo and Kordofanian. Niger-Congo, spoken
in the basins of the Niger and Congo Rivers, has these subfamilies: (1) Adamawa-Ubanji,
spoken in parts of Central Africa and has languages such as Gbaya, Banda, and Zande.
(2) (New) Benue-Congo, which includes the former Eastern Kwa—Yoruba, Edo, Nupe,
Idoma, Igbo—and Bantoid (subclassified into non-Bantu and Wide Bantu.). Swahili,
Kikuyu, Zulu, and Xhosa are important Benue-Congo languages. (3) Gur languages are
spoken in West Africa—Ivory Coast, Ghana, Togo, Benin, and Burkina Faso. They
subdivide into Oti-Volta and Grusi. Gurenne, Wali (Dagaari), Dagbani, Buli, Kusaal,
Bassari, Ntrobo, Kasem, Sisaala, and Nafaanra are Gur languages. (4) Ijo is spoken by
the Ijo of Nigeria and covers both Ijo and Defaka. (5) Kru languages include Grebo and
Bassa. (6) Mande, spoken in parts of Mali, Coat d’Ivoire, Guinea, Sierra Leone, Guinea
Bissau, Mauritania, Nigeria, and Ghana, among others, has languages like Bambara,
Maninka, Kpelle, Busa, Ligbi, and Bobo. (7) (New) Kwa has languages such as Akan,
Ewe (and other Gbe languages), Ga, and Togo-remnant languages, among others. (New)
Kwa has undergone tremendous classification and reclassification. It includes languages
spoken in southern Ghana, Cote d’Ivoire, Togo, Benin, and southeastern Nigeria. (8)
West Atlantic languages are spoken in the area stretching from the Senegal River down
into Liberia. They include Fula, Wolof, Diola, and Temne.
The Niger-Congo languages have vowel harmony (a system of vowel distribution in
which all the vowels in a word are either rounded, unrounded, tense, or lax) tonal systems
(between two and five tones), stress (Swahili), nasality, (Igbo, Yoruba), breathy voicing
(Edo), dissimilation, unusual consonants, such as coarticulated consonants (e.g., [kp,
gb]), implosives (e.g., bhabha / bab /a calabash; bábā—cut, ejectives, velar fricative[kh]),
consonant mutation—where certain consonant sequences such as / mb/ change to /mm/
because of adjacent consonants—among others.
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407
Apart from the Kru and Mande languages, most languages have serial verb
constructions (where a series of two or more verbs in a given language express one action
in another language), adjectives occurring after nouns, and subject-verb-object word
order, but Mande has subject-object-verb. A few like Ijo and Likpe have gender systems.
In Benue-Congo languages nouns are grouped into classes, and each noun class places
specific affixes before or after other words occurring in the same sentence. Others, such
as New Kwa, have lost most of their class forms.
Kordofanian languages are spoken in the Nuba Mountains in the Republic of Sudan.
This group of languages has dental /t d/ and retroflex sounds /rr, nr/. Plosives like /t/
occurring between vowels change to fricatives /s/ and the noun class system is
reminiscent of those found in other Niger-Congo languages.
Afro-Asiatic (Hamito-Semitic) Languages
This is a major language family of northern Africa and the Middle East. It has nearly 200
million speakers and is subdivided into six language groups: Semitic, Egyptian, Berber,
Chadic, Cushitic, and Omotic. Egyptian, now extinct, had dialects such as Ancient Arabic
and Coptic, which survived until about the fourteenth century.
Chadic is spoken in Central and West Africa south of the Sahara and includes Hausa,
the official language of Nigeria and principal language of Niger, Ghana, Togo, Benin,
Cameroon, and Chad. It has more native speakers than any other sub-Saharan African
language including Ngizim, Warjawa, Bolewa; Kotoko (Ngala, Logone, etc.); Bata-Margi
(Bachama, Gabin, etc.); and Hina, among others.
Cushitic languages are spoken in East Africa south of the Sahara in Ethiopia, Somalia,
along the Red Sea, and Kenya. They have important languages like Galla, Somali,
Oromo, Bedawiye, Hadya, Beja, Bogo, Kamir, Galla, Darasa, and Kambata.
Semitic languages include Arabic, Hebrew, Amharic (with over 5 million speakers,
and the official language of Ethiopia) Aramaic, Akkadian, and Mehri. Other Semitic
languages spoken in North Africa include Tigrinya and Tigré in Eritrea and Ancient
Ethiopian, or Gecez, now extinct.
Berber, spoken in northern and northwestern Africa (west of Egypt) in countries like
Morocco, Algeria, and Tunisia has languages such as Numidian, Tuareg, Iznacen,
Ghadames, Riff, Shilh, and Kabyle. Berber speakers are Berber-Arabic bilingual. Omotic
languages are spoken in southern Ethiopia.
Important phonological features of Afro-Asiatic languages include stress, tone,
implosives (/bh, dh, gh/), and back consonants, notably velar (/k/, /g/, /kh/, /gh/)
pharyngeal (/hh hg/), and glottal sounds (/?, h/). Afro-Asiatic languages are subject-verbobject and have gender.
The Khoisan Languages
These languages are spoken mainly by the Khoikhoi and San peoples of southern
Africa—especially in Namibia, Botswana, The Republic of South Africa, and Tanzania.
There are three subgroups: South African Khoisan (SAK), Sandawe, and Hatsa. SAK has
African folklore
408
three subfamilies: Northern, Central, and Southern. Northern SAK (Bushman) has
languages like !Xu and Auen. Central SAK has Hottentot (Khoi and San), Nama (with
nearly 40,000 speakers) and Kxoe. Southern SAK has !Xo and other languages, some of
which are extinct. Hatsa is spoken in Tanzania in an area between Lake Tanganyika and
the sea. Sandawe and Hatsa are spoken by a little over 70,000 people between the Bubu
and Mponde Rivers in the Kondoa District in Tanzania. Sandawe is spoken in the
Dodoma region of Tanzania. Sentences in this language have subject-object-verb
structure. There are three clicks (sounds during whose production air is drawn into the
mouth) /t l/ dental click (the tip of the tongue touches the upper teeth), /l l/ alveolar lateral
click (air escapes along the blade of the tongue) and [1811] post alveolar/palatal click
(front part of the tongue touches the hard palate). Hatsa has an additional labial (kissing)
click /b/. In Hatsa /b/ clicks appear less frequently and usually in the middle of words.
Other consonants found in Sandawe and the other Khoisan languages but uncommon in
other African languages are the voiceless and voiced lateral hissing (fricatives and
affricates)—/tl, dl, hl, Hl/. Producing consonants with a breath can distinguish meaning in
these languages. There are four nasals: /m, n, ny, ng/.
Nilo-Saharan Languages
Nilo-Saharan languages are spoken in pockets of areas along the Niger River in West
Africa to Ethiopia, in parts of Uganda and Kenya, and throughout most of the upper Nile
Valley. It has over ninety languages. Nilo-Saharan is sometimes divided into Songhai,
Saharan, Fur, Chari-Nile, and Coman. Songhai is spoken along much of the upper Niger
River in Niger. The Saharan languages including Kanuri—the major language with
nearly 2 million people—Berti and Teda are spoken in northeastern Nigeria, throughout
the Republic of Chad to the east, and parts of Libya. Chari-Nile, spoken in Chad, Sudan,
Uganda, Kenya, and in the Republic of Congo, has about 1 million speakers. The Nubian
languages are important Chari-Nile languages. The Nilotic languages spoken in Sudan,
Uganda, and Kenya include languages such as Dinka, Nuer, Shilluk and Luo, and Massai
in Kenya.
Nilo-Saharan languages have remnants of a noun-class system, and most are tonal
with a two-tone system being the most common, although a few languages have threetonal systems. The languages have vowel harmony. Nilo-Saharan languages have a fiveway place consonant system (involving labials /p b/ , dentals /t d/, alveolars /t d/, palatals
/ky gy; hj gj/, and velars / k g/) and a strong absence of consonant clusters. Nasals
generally constitute final consonants in these languages.
Other Languages
The Indo-European language of Afrikaans is an “Africanized” form of Dutch. It is spoken
mainly by the descendants of Dutch settlers in southern Africa. English is native to white
settlers in the Republic of South Africa and Zimbabwe and to repatriated African
Americans in the nineteenth century in Liberia. Krio is an English-based Creole spoken
in Sierra Leone by descendants of freed slaves. The Polynesian language of Malagasy is
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spoken in Madagascar. Due to colonization, English, French, Portuguese, Spanish, and
Italian are also spoken in some African countries.
References
Greenberg, Joseph. 1966. The Languages of Africa. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
SAMUEL GYASI OBENG
See also Languages: Africanisms in the Americas
Table 1 Some Consonants in African Languages
bilabial labio- Den Alve Postalve Pala Retro velar uvular Phary glottal
dental tal olar
olar
tal flex
ngeal
plosive
pb
t d tp
db
tr dr
Implosive
bh
dh
ejective
p’
t’
tr’
r
rr
kg
qG
kp gb
gh
k’
q’
clicks
trill “flap
nasal
m
mf
n
ny
fricative
pf bv
fv
sz
sh zh
affricate
ts dz
ky gy
lateral
fricative
Ih
dlh
lateral
approximant
1
hj gj
nr
ng
kh gh qh Gh
hh hg
hH
L
LANGUAGES: AFRICANISMS IN THE
AMERICAS
The question of Africanisms—that is, traits of African languages present in languages of
the Americas—is actually a very complex one due, in part, to the frequent absence of the
full range of information required for identifying these languages. Many West African
languages varied in terms of how many speakers of each language lived in a particular
area, and the extent to which the proportion of different language speakers changed over
time in the same area. For example, until 1710, speakers of Ewe-Fon in Haiti comprised
roughly half of the population; but only approximately one-third of the Africans arriving
African folklore
410
afterward. Additionally, many Africans, if not most, were multilingual; so, while they
may have primarily spoken the language of their ethnic group, they probably also spoke
at least one other language.
The major site of the study of Africanisms is Creole studies. Consequently, any
discussion of Africanisms must include a discussion of Creole studies. Spears and
Winford (1997) offer a recent assessment of theories, concepts, and methodologies in
Creole (and pidgin) language studies. Holm (1988/1989 and 2000), the standard
references, include discussions of a large number of individual Creole languages.
However, it is important to note that Africanisms are found in non-Creole languages in
the Americas as well.
Among the Creole languages are Jamaican, also called Jamaican English Creole and
“patois;” Gullah, also called Guichee and Sea Island Creole, spoken in the United States
mainly in the coastal areas of South Carolina, Georgia, and Florida and the nearby
offshore islands; Haitian, also called Haitian French Creole and “Kreyòl”; and Guyanese,
also referred to as Guyanese English Creole. Creole languages display a mixture of West
African and European (and additionally, to a lesser extent, indigenous Native American)
language input. They were created as a result of bringing together peoples with no
common language, who were nevertheless compelled to interact with one another, most
notably under the conditions of trade and slavery.
The West African languages that provided input into the languages of the Americas
were of the Niger-Congo family, a large grouping that includes the Bantu and Kwa
language families. These languages are spoken from the north of sub-Saharan Africa in
the Gambia and Senegal, southward to Angola in southern central Africa. Among the
languages often noted as the sources of items found in Western Hemispheric languages
are KiKongo, Twi, Ibo, Mende, Yoruba, Kru, Ijo, Efik, Bambara, and Ewe-Fon (a cluster
of highly similar language varieties). West African vocabulary items in the languages of
the Americas are typically connected to West African cuisines, religions, and other more
private, as opposed to public, areas of social life such as sexuality. The European colonial
languages involved in the formation of Creole languages were English, French,
Portuguese, Spanish, and Dutch.
No African language today functions as a living language in the full range of any
African American community’s social interaction. There are, however, instances of the
use of fossilized fragments of African languages in religious rituals. As a result of the
particularly heavy number of Yoruba speakers brought to Cuba, Guyana, Brazil, and
Trinidad in the nineteenth century, forms of that language were spoken in these countries
into the twentieth century.
There are two basic ways that one can discuss Africanisms in languages of the
Americas. The first way is from the standpoint of quantity—that is, how many
Africanisms these languages have relative to one another. The second way is by
discussing specific Africanisms as examples of the various types of Africanisms.
With regard to quantity, we can establish roughly four levels of Africanisms based on
the social history of these languages; more specifically, the extent to which they have
been in contact with West African languages brought by free immigrant and enslaved
Africans to Western Hemispheric shores. Since there were so few in the former category,
they may well have had a negligible effect.
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411
The first level, languages considered by linguists to have the highest amount of
Africanisms, are radical Creoles. Radical Creoles, as the term is used by pidgin and
Creole language specialists (i.e., Creolists), refers to that group of Creole languages in the
Americas having less European language input, in effect, those that are more African
owing to sociohistorical factors. These languages also have a number of features that
must be attributed to other sources, among them putatively independently developed
features that cannot be attributed to European or West African languages. All Creole
languages show European language influence primarily in their vocabularies, but also
show it in the rest of their grammars—phonology (the sound system), morphology (word
structure), syntax (the structure of words in phrases, clauses, sentences) and semantics
(meaning). West African language input shows up most in areas of grammar rather than
vocabulary.
At this point, a word on the relationship between Creoleness and Africanness is
needed. Creole languages toward the radical end have more features considered to be
typical, for example, verb serialization, where two or more verbs share one subject. An
example:
Dem da ca
um gi dee nyong They PROGRESSIVE carry it give
the young peepl (Gullah) people
“They are bringing it for/to the young people.”
The second verb give expresses the meaning of the preposition for. Verb serialization is
frequently found in Niger-Congo languages and can thus be considered an Africanism.
Creole grammatical features are not necessarily Africanisms, but there is strong
evidence that a good number of them are. Thus, grammatical features considered typical
of Creole languages are often Africanisms, but they may also result from the creation of
new grammatical features, neither African nor European, in the process of Creolegenesis,
whereby a Creole language comes into existence, or during the subsequent evolution of
the language.
The common absence of passivization in Creole languages is considered an
Africanism, and is found in radical and some other Creole languages. Note the Jamaican
“De rais kot” (The rice has been cut), where de rais appears in subject position but is the
object of the act of cutting. Compare the passive sentence with the following active one:
“Bob kot de rais” (Bob cut/cuts the rice), where Bob is the agent and the sentence’s
subject. In sum, we can take as a general rule that radical Creole, that is, those having the
most Creole features of grammar, also have the most Africanisms.
As in most West African languages, adjectives are more like verbs than they are in
European languages. So, for example, no copula (form of the verb be) is required in these
languages before adjectives (cf. English “He is old”), as is the case before verbs. Kru,
spoken in Liberia, and Yoruba, spoken in Nigeria, are just two examples of West African
languages with this pattern, which is found in Creole languages. Observe the Haitian
sentence, “Li vyè,” “He/she/it is old.”
The most discussed grammatical pattern found in Creole language Africanisms is the
system of preverbal markers expressing tense, mood, and aspect. There are typically three
of these markers, and their semantics and combinations are remarkably similar
throughout Creole languages and a number of West African ones.
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412
Among the Creole languages considered radical by most creolists are Haitian French
Creole (called Haitian by Creolists), Saramaccan, and Ndjuka (the last two spoken in
Suriname). Haitian’s radicalness is a consequence of the Haitian Revolution, formally
ended by treaty in 1804 but the result of a decades long process that won Haitian
independence from France and from the normative pressure of French culture and the
French language. French continued as the language of a tiny elite controlling the most
important institutions, but the isolation and hindered development of Haiti contributed to
keeping Haitian from becoming more Europeanized. Actually, in accord with more recent
views in Creole studies, we may say that Haitian moved further away from French as a
result of the revolution and the very heavy importation of slaves immediately preceding
it.
Saramaccan and Ndjuka are maroon languages, in other words, languages of African
descendants who escaped from slavery and formed communities in relatively inaccessible
swamp, mountain, or rainforest areas. These two languages are those of Surinamese
slaves who in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries escaped from coastal areas into
the interior rainforest and who were able to maintain many African traditions. These
languages, with English and West African language input, were separated from the
normative pressure of English for over three hundred years; and, this helps to explain
their radicalness. They also have other European and no doubt indigenous language input,
especially Portuguese, in the case of Saramaccan.
The second level comprises the other Creole languages, ranging from those having
less African content than the radical Creoles to those having relatively few features
considered typical of Creoles. Some in this group, such as Louisiana French Creole, are
considered midrange Creoles in terms of Africanisms. Others are considered “lightly
Creolized,” and some scholars might want to argue whether they are full-fledged Creoles
or not. A number of Creolists consider Trinidadian (English Creole) as very lightly
Creolized due to its relatively late formation from varieties of English that were
themselves very lightly or hardly Creolized. Barbadian is similar to Trinidadian in that it
is also considered lightly Creolized. The Creole languages in the second level group vary
in their level of Creoleness—as, indeed, Creolists believe the radical Creoles do.
Languages on the third level are not Creole languages, but they do have Creole
language features, though not enough of these features for them to be classified as
Creoles. Note that some varieties of the lightly Creolized languages just discussed might
be put into this category. These categories do not have clear-cut boundaries since we are
actually dealing with a continuum. These languages are sometimes referred to as postCreoles or semi-Creoles. African American Vernacular English (AAVE) (the
nonstandard type) and standard African American English (SAAE) are examples
(Lanehart 2001). Most of the linguistic literature mentions AAVE only, but there is also a
type of African American English (AAE) that can be considered standard based on the
same characteristics that are used to classify other varieties of American English as
standard. These characteristics include the level of education and social position of its
speakers and the fact that this type of AAE has none of the grammatical features
classified as nonstandard in prescriptive grammars. Among these features are ain’t, the
use of double or multiple negatives in a sentence, the use of double modals (e.g., “He
might could do that”), and so forth. So, both types of AAE, nonstandard (or vernacular)
and standard, have Creole features, but not enough of these features to actually qualify as
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413
Creole languages. Note also that the great majority of AAE varieties, standard and nonstandard, can be understood by other English speakers from around the world, but the
same is not true for English-lexifier Creole languages. Those often referred to as lightly
Creolized are in some instances exceptions. There are, in addition, morphological and
syntactic features in AAE that can reasonably be argued to be Africanisms.
The use in AAVE of the verb say as a complementizer, a conjunction introducing a
dependent clause, is an example of an Africanism. This use of say is found in a number
of West African languages. Observe the AAVE sentence “He told me said they always do
it.” In this example the verb say occurs in the Simple Past form of the verb. This is one
way that those varieties of AAE that have this complementizer make themselves more
like non-African American varieties of English, thus camouflaging the Africanism. In
Gullah, an English-lexifier Creole language spoken in the United States on the coast and
offshore islands of South Carolina, Georgia, and Florida (as well as in Texas, on a much
more limited basis) the uninflected verb say is used as the complementizer and can occur
in a larger number of sentences contexts than the AAVE said. (Say occurs also in some
varieties of AAVE.)
Another interesting feature, found presumably in varieties of AAE, can be strongly
argued to be an Africanism. This feature is the semiauxiliary come, which expresses
strong disapproval. It is distinct from the motion verb come, and both can be found,
although rarely, in the same sentence; for example, “He come coming in here acting like
a damn fool.” In this example, the first come is the semiauxiliary, and the second come is
the familiar motion verb. This disapproval form is found in many Caribbean Creoles, an
indication already that it may well be an Africanism. Note also that it is found in nonEnglish-lexifier Creoles such as Haitian, where a reflex (contemporary form) of the
French motion verb venir, meaning “come,” is used. Providing strong evidence that this
form is an Africanism is the fact that it is found not only in a number of Creoles, but it
has also been documented in one West African language (Bambara of the Segu area in
Mali) and probably exists in more.
This discussion of the come of strong disapproval illustrates a fundamental point:
Africanisms are such to a degree, depending on the strength of the evidence that can be
brought forward to prove that a form is a survival, a transformation, or a borrowing of a
West African form. Survivals are elements that have remained mostly intact in their form
(sound, word structure, and syntax) and their meaning. Transformations have undergone
more changes, typically in form—they are no longer recognizably West African words
and phrases based on their sounds (and sometimes their grammatical patterning in
sentences, too). A borrowing is incorporated into the Creole language after it has already
been formed.
This last point is an important one because some Africanisms (i.e., items whose origin
can be traced to African languages) were part of the material that was incorporated into
Creoles in their formation process. A language can borrow only after it is in existence.
Items that were incorporated into Creoles in their formation process are often referred to
as retentions, in contradistinction to borrowings (or loans). Recently borrowed words in
AAE such as kwanzaa (from Swahili, which was not spoken, or at least not spoken by
any appreciable number of Africans who came to the Americas) and other terms
associated with it are clear examples of borrowings. The standards of proof in linguistics
are based on principles of grammatical analysis and those relating to
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414
historical/comparative linguistics and social historiography (see Mufwene 1993 and 2001
for further discussion). Some forms that have been argued to be Africanisms, for example
O.K., are not widely accepted as such.
Among the lexical words in AAE that are considered Africanisms are yam, tote, banjo,
gumbo, cooter (“turtle”), goober (“peanut”), and many personal names such as Cuffy or
Coffy, Cudjo or Cudjoe, Zola, and Phoebe (see Turner 1949 and the references in
Mufwene 1993 for longer lists). Nyam or some variant is found in many American
languages, meaning “eat” or a “yelloworangish tuber.” Linguists contrast lexical elements
(words, parts of words, and sometimes phrases) to grammatical elements, those belonging
to a small, closed set; closed meaning that those sets cannot easily take new members.
Examples are prepositions, auxiliary modal verbs, articles, and verb suffixes expressing
tense, aspect, and mood. Grammatical elements are more important than lexical ones in
the overall grammar of languages since the grammatical ones help to provide the basic
structural frame into which lexical words fit. The closed sets of which grammatical
elements are a part contain elements that are tightly interrelated.
Other semi-Creoles or post-Creoles are popular Dominican Spanish, popular Brazilian
Portuguese, popular Cuban Spanish, and Surinamese Dutch. (Popular before the
language’s name means the kind spoken by the great majority of the people.) It is notable
that popular Dominican Spanish has a version of the come of strong disapproval. Popular
Brazilian Portuguese has the Africanism bunda (buttocks).
The fourth level languages are the others in the Americas that have only a smattering
of Africanisms, virtually all of which are lexical words (as opposed to grammatical ones,
as discussed above). An example would be the English of the great majority of whites
and some African Americans and others in the United States. (Some African Americans
do not speak AAE.) This type of English, which actually includes many different
varieties, has Africanisms such as tote (carry) and the place/person name Cudjo or Cujo.
(Cudjo as a place name can be considered part of all American varieties of English due to
the existence of Cudjo Key, Florida, apparently the only African place name in the
United States.) Other languages on this level would be Argentine Span ish, Peruvian
Spanish, and in general other languages outside what has been called Afro-America, that
area stretching from the southern United States to Brazil and including the Caribbean,
where African cultural and linguistic influence has historically been profound due to the
density of African slaves in earlier populations.
In addition to the types of Africanisms distinguished above, there are other important
ones. First, we should note that linguists make a distinction between grammar and use.
Use refers to how speakers actually use a language, for example, to tell jokes, to insult,
and to greet. Use also refers to characteristics such as the normal quantity of speech (do
speakers typically talk a lot or not?) and speech events that are salient among particular
groups of speakers (for example, sermons, cursing, praising, and storytelling). Many
groups in Afro-America continue the African tradition of animal tales such as those about
Br’er Rabbit. Several scholars have noted that the African element in language use may
be significantly more important than that in grammar.
Second, communicative behaviors closely related to language and virtually
indispensable should be considered. Among such behaviors are paralanguage and
kinesics. Paralanguage refers to sounds that accompany speech, but that are not part of
language proper: sighs, moans, imitations of nonlanguage sounds, and so forth. Unh-hunh
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(yes) and zunh-zunh (no) are examples. (The symbol [?] stands for the sound, which is
not written, at the onset of the beginning vowel of a word such as ouch!) Note also the
sound of disgust or contempt, hmmph, phonetically written
which in AAE may
coming in here acting
substitute for the semiauxiliary come of strong disapproval “
like a damn fool.” This last example shows how closely interrelated language and
paralanguage are. Kinesic behaviors include face and body movements. Cut-eye and
suck-teeth are examples of facial gesture Africanisms. Cut-eye involves a sharp move
(cut) of the eyes far to the side with a simultaneous look of disapproval. Suck-teeth,
which may accompany cut-eye, consists of pursing the lips with a small, slit opening and
sucking in air; it also accompanies of look of strong disapproval. Cupped-hand-overmouth laughter is an example of body movement combined with paralanguage, both of
which may be combined with speech.
Further research into the subject of Africanisms in languages of the Americas will
probably reveal more Africanisms in language use and associated communicative
behaviors than in grammar itself, thus indicating that African influence is most felt today
in the nongrammatical (or nonstructural) aspect of communicative behavior. Language
use, paralanguage, and kinesics, being less subject to identification and labeling, have
accordingly been less subject to being explicitly stigmatized. The stigmatizing of
Africanisms of all types by the purveyors and upholders of Eurocentric norms has been
one of the main reasons for the diminution of African influences in the cultures of the
Americas. As peoples in the Americas who recognize their African descent develop more
positive attitudes toward their African heritage, we may see the importation of new
Africanisms, not only in language but also in other domains of culture, such as was seen
during the African-American Civil Rights movement during the 1960s and 1970s in the
U.S.
References
Holm, John. 1988. Pidgins and Creoles. Vol. 1: Theory and Structure. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press.
—. 1989. Pidgins and Creoles. Vol. 2: Reference Survey. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
—. 2000. On Introduction to Pidgins and Creoles. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge
University Press.
Lanehart, Sonja L., ed. 2001. Sociocultural and Historical Contracts of African American English.
Philadelphia and Amsterdam: John Benjamins.
Mufwene, Salikoko S., ed. 1993. Africanisms in Afro-American Language Varieties. Athens, Ga.:
University of Georgia Press.
Mufwene, Salikoko S., 2001. The Ecology of Language Education Cambridge and New York:
Cambridge University Press.
Spears, Arthur K. and Donald Winford, eds. 1997. The Structure and Status of Pidgins and
Creoles. Amsterdam and Philadelphia: John Benjamins.
Turner, Lorenzo Dow. 1974 [1949]. Africanisms in the Gullah Dialect. Ann Arbor: University of
Michigan Press, [reprinted in 1969;] University of Chicago Press.
ARTHUR K.SPEARS
See also Diaspora; Verbal Arts: African American
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LEGA
See Central African Folklore: Overview
LEGENDS: EAST AFRICA
Legends are historical accounts that narrators and their audience believe to be true. They
are universal in character, as they attempt to recount the true history or real life
experiences of remarkable individuals in their communities. Some cannot be accurately
proved, since historical details are lost due to the inadequacies of the oral modes of
transmission. This results in two types of legends: first, those with a greater tendency
toward fact, which are historic, and those with a greater inclination toward fiction,
categorized as mythic or romantic (Okpwewho 1983).
Although the truth of legends may be difficult to ascertain, indigenous people consider
them to be authentic. This is because legendary stories cover the historical deeds of
human rather than mystical heroes. The storytellers and their audience accept the
narrative veracity of the legend.
In traditional cultures, legends emphasize cherished cultural values, ethnic identities,
and history. Legendary characters are usually human, or anthropomorphic with
superhuman origins. They may be cultural heroes or chiefs who died and were later
deified (Rasman and Rubel 1995). A hero is considered a historical person who is
distinguished from average mortals by his or her outstanding bravery, perseverance,
ingenuity, and moral or intellectual merits. The culture heroes are, therefore the
personalities who have done anything to improve the conditions of human existence
(Werner 1968).
This essay analyzes African legends with specific reference to the Abaluhyia (Luhyia)
people of Western Province of Kenya in East Africa.
Background
The Abaluhyia is one of the subethnic groups of the Bantu peoples who inhabit the
western region of Kenya. They occupy the five districts of Western Province: Bungoma,
Busia, Butere-Mumias, Kakamega, and Vihiga. The Luo, Kalenjin, Teso, and the eastern
province of Uganda border the community. It is composed of over fifteen subgroups:
Abisukha, Abanyore, Babukusu, Abakabras, Maragoli, Abasamia, Abashisa, Abatitrichi,
Abamarachi, Abatsotso, Abakhekha, Abatochoni, and Abakhayo (Fedders and Salvadori
1998, Were 1967a, b). They do not constitute a homogenous group, due to variations in
some sociocultural traits. Nonetheless, their dialects are mutually intelligible and the
culture manifests a higher degree of uniformity in its basic characteristics. Given the
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common cultural traits, the Abaluhyia form a distinct superethnic group in relation to
their neighboring societies.
The Luhyia legends depict the typical traits of African historical tradition, although
there are different methods of narrating the same story. These variations can be attributed
to the inaccuracies of oral transmission. The patterns and points of emphasis may be
altered or distorted because the narrators’ memories and idiosyncratic preferences
influence reporting. Unique environmental and historical experiences can also be used to
account for the differences in basically similar stories from one Luhyia community to
another.
Although legends purport to represent particular periods, their presentations in African
oral literature have unclear outlines. Since the narratives are dependent on memorized
oral traditions, their reporters may be unable to think in terms of specific dates. The
Luhyia and other African legends do not claim accuracy in keeping specific time frames,
dates or chronology of events. They are set in undetermined time periods and are
introduced by such expressions as “Once upon a time…” “In the olden days…” and “A
long time ago…” This may represent mythical time because the narrators’ imagination is
not constrained or limited by obligations to time-bound images (Okpwewho 1983).
The reenactment of accepted cultural themes, customs, and moral codes is situated in
the unspecified past of outstanding personalities and their experiences. The series of tests,
adventures, accomplishments, and failings of both heroes and ordinary people are cited in
significant historic episodes. In some cases, narrators and their listeners supplement their
legendary narratives with nonprose lore, such as proverbs and songs, which relate events
and the roles of real human beings in memorable occurrences. Indigenous people
recognize the chronology of important historic activities by the indelible experiences of
entire communities such as droughts, famine, floods, and memorable events such as the
coronation of kings, and lineage or ethnic settlement in new territories. African legends
are therefore situation- or event-bound rather than time-bound in a strict sense.
The Abaluhyia have a larger population, and inhabit more territory, than other groups
in western Kenya. Their culture embraces the traits of other Bantu and non-Bantu groups
in the region. Since they are part of the populous Bantu ethnic groups in Africa, their
legends can represent typical African folklore. The focus of Luhyia legends, as in other
African societies, is on the origins and formation of genealogies and ethnic groups, ethnic
migrations, wars, conquests, deeds of culture heroes and models of accomplishment, and
failures according to ethnic constructions. The subject matter of legends includes themes
such as the exploits of heroes, the establishment of genealogies, migra-tions, wars, and
the formation of dynasties, all described as part of the history of living societies.
Formation of Ethnic Groups
Members of specific groups rely on historical legends to meet their identity needs in
contemporary social, cultural and political contexts. Stories that trace a community’s
origins also identify migration legends, or personalities who led them from difficult
circumstances such as drought, floods, epidemics, and oppression in their original
homeland to their current location. For example, a majority of the Abaluhyia trace their
original homeland to Egypt (Egebeti, Misiri). Particular individuals after whom the clans,
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subclans or subethnic groups were named later became part of the larger Luhyia
community led each migrating group. For instance, the Maragoli were led by Mulogoli,
the Ababugusu by Muvugusu, and the Abidhakho by Mwetakho. Another version of the
legend is that Omuluhyia, the ancestor of the Abaluhyia moved out of Egypt with his
sons and established a new home somewhere in the north, which became the point of
departure for his migrating sons into the current Luhyia territory. Literary analysts
hypothesize that such legends are drawn from the biblical story of the oppression of the
Hebrews documented in the Old Testament.
In recounting the origins and formation of ethnic groups, genealogies or lineages,
African legends take into account the personalities who gave each group their unique
identities. The more authentic history of the different Abaluhyia subgroups, for instance,
begins after the supposed migration from Egypt under the control of known figures in
particular genealogies. Narratives describing the migration experiences form a continuum
between myths and legends.
Genealogies and Migration
Oral chronicles attempt to report how ancestors of contemporary clans and ruling
lineages came to have claims over their current territories as indigenous settlers.
Raconteurs present the biographies of individuals who made significant contributions to
the survival and continuity of their clans or subethnic groups. The narrators relate lines of
succession, which are known and recognized in society (Finnegan 1970). The legends
recreate the memory of how individuals brought victory or esteem to their lineage in
difficult and challenging situations.
The Tiriki, for instance, believe that their ancestors conquered their present territory in
the region of Kavirondo Gulf on Lake Victoria, which became their homeland. Khoba
and his sons, who agreed to be initiated into the Nilo-Hamitic Terik age-groups,
conquered their contemporary territory. They give credit to Diligin, a Terik elder, who
first invited their clan members into the uninhabited lands (Sangree 1966). The clans,
which accepted the Nilo-Hamitic initiation of the Terik, became the Tiriki (Abadiliji,
Abatirichi), probably named after their first host, Diligin. Since then, the process of
immigration of Abaluhyia clan segments to Tiriki land and their incorporation into the
ethnic group through the acceptance of the Terik initiation and age-grade initiation
systems has continued to the present. Migrants can enjoy the status of the Tiriki ethnic
group.
The migration legends provide important justification for existing distributions of
power within clans and lineages. Geneal ogical stories attempt to show people’s links
with important past personalities who led to the establishment of influential groups in the
society. In this regard, historical legends focus on distinguished culture heroes, some of
whom were successful in the establishment of dynasties and ruling families. Such
narratives become vehicles for expressing societal expectations, values, and morals.
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Political Legends
There are narratives about individuals who founded “nations” and enhanced the social
and political cohesion of ethnic groups. The narratives present distinguished personalities
as having had extraordinary qualities, which enabled them to consolidate their power and
unite their followers. The legends in this category present the culture heroes undertaking
a series of trials and risk-taking experiences in which they triumph or lose. The historical
political narratives are general recounts of the biographies of charismatic figures, with
attempts to detail their exploits or failings. These narratives present what happened and
attempt to explain what ought to have happened for the sake of individual and community
success. The narrators focus on people who feature prominently in the annals of oral
tradition. These are personages whose individual characters and achievements can be
vividly remembered by the majority of the people. They are the basic actors in their clan
and ethnic histories. Narrators, audience, and commentators focus attention on chief
events in each person’s life.
Such legends may be prominent among some subgroups of the Abaluhyia or may be
acknowledged by the entire Abaluhyia fraternity. The important personalities are
remembered through prose narratives, songs, and proverbs. The songs and proverbs are
drawn from the episodes that narrators and their audience believe are oral records of the
event. In some cases, those telling the tale may present the narrative episodes as songs
(Finnegan 1970); these are occasionally sung independent of the tale-telling. Among the
Ababukusu, for instance, Mango, son of Bwayo, of the Umukhurarwa clan, is one of the
renowned heroes remembered in this manner. His father is said to have led the
Ababukusu in earlier migration movements (Makila 1978). Mango became popular
among his because of his amicable disposition and resolute character. When he was of
age, he killed the most dreaded serpent in the village, Yebebe. The neighboring Barwa
people rewarded him with one of their daughters as a wife after he accepted circumcision.
Before Mango’s circumcision, this practice was not as common and elaborate among the
Ababukusu as it is today. His mother was scared of his circumcision and cried out to
discourage him from accepting it. The Ababukusu are said to have turned the fateful
words of Mango’s mother into an initiation song, the Sioyaye chant (Makila 1978), which
is still sung today during circumcision ceremonies.
The Ababukusu remember Mango for his brave deeds that astounded many people and
became the basis for the revival of Bukusu identity and cultural pride. He instituted
reforms in the traditional Bukusu circumcision rites to incorporate the traditions of the
Tiriki and non-Luhyia groups such as the Nandi and the Kipsigis. Among the Tiriki,
Sagwa is similarly remembered for having initiated changes in the traditional
circumcision ceremonies to Christianize them. As a result, Tiriki Christians have
composed songs, which are used today to remember his cultural and political
achievement. As cultural and political heroes, both Mango and Sagwa are known as
sources of inspiration, new identity, and unity for their people. They provided their
subethnic groups with new approaches to political and cultural issues. Legends with
political content are told to remind young and old alike of their history and the
foundations of patriotism.
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The Abanyore recall the story of a young man known as Tuti but nicknamed
Omukhwayi. He is remembered with admiration for his determination to unite his clan
and to keep it from being overwhelmed by outside influence. He defeated an enemy clan
called Abasiratsi, killing hundreds of its members. Under his leadership, his Abatongoyi
clan won and returned home with loot from the enemy. This marked the beginning of the
new ethnocentric name Abakhwaya for Tuti’s clan. Tuti Omukhwaya is remembered for
his fearlessness and bravery. It is from him that the Abanyore and their Luo neighbors got
the praise name sibwori or sibwor mang’ang’a, that is, “one with the fearful heart of
lion.”
Biographies of popular chiefs are also part of the Abaluhyia oral annals. The Tiriki,
for instance, recall the successes and failures of Chief Amiani, who symbolized their
unity in early colonial times. He was a giant in both physical stature and personality,
renowned for instituting centralized ethnic authority and chieftaincy (Sangree 1966).
Amiani ranks in Titiki history as second to Chief Mumia of the Wanga people. He had an
awe-inspiring personality, which was reinforced by his fierce army of Terik warriors who
acted as his ethnic police. Despite his political successes, the Tiriki recount his failures,
such as the massive settlement of the Maragoli migrants in the Tiriki territory. He also
attempted to divulge the circumcision rites secrets to the white missionaries. His subjects
also detested his high-handedness in administration and his apparent contempt for
traditional Tiriki culture. Some informants hold that Amiani’s misrule toward the end of
his reign was due to his domineering mother. Some of the failures of Chief Amiani are
recounted in circumcision songs, which express contempt for his mother.
There are some narratives about charismatic personalities who were popular across the
Abaluhyia community. These are individuals who succeeded in political, economic, and
magicoreligious careers. Elijah Masinde (of Bukusu descent) is one such legend. He
founded the indigenous Dini ya Musambwa (religion of good spirits) sect. Through this
sect, he opposed the conscription of Africans to fight in the World War II, and preached
against foreign religion, particularly Christianity. Masinde’s religion spread to other
Abaluhyia sects, such as the Abawanga, Abatsotso, Abaidakho, and Tiriki. He became a
popular nationalist during the struggle for independence and later a critic of the
postcolonial government. The Abaluhyia consider Masinde a magico-religious hero due
to his charisma, a distinction which bestowed him with the qualities of a messiah,
liberator, and prophet. Although some people perceived him to be a troublemaker, the
stories that exist about him present him as an admirable man.
The legend of Chief (Nabongo) Mumia of the Abawanga is known by the majority of
the Abaluhyia people. Born into the Abashitsetse ruling clan, his charisma and leadership
qualities were apparent during his childhood and youth. As a teenager, he killed fierce
animals such as leopards and lions singlehandedly, using only spears and arrows. He
succeeded his father Shihundu at a very critical time of attacks by the Luo, Ababukusu,
and Abanyala (Were 1966b). As a leader, the Abaluhyia remember Nabongo Mumia for
having successfully led the Abawanga and assisted many Luhyia subgroups through trials
such as the prolonged drought that caused the historical “famine of the kikombe (cup).”
Abaluhyia folk songs recall the famine.
Mumia also helped the Abaluhyia endure cattle plagues and tribal wars. He combined
generosity and kindness with his skill as a warrior to extend his influence to the
neighboring Abaluhyia subgroups.
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Warfare Legends
Historical legends give accounts of the causes of war, and the outcome of various battles.
Chief Nganyi of the Abanyore, for example, is remembered for his diplomacy in
resolving conflicts with neighboring communities. His people once lost a battle to the
Luo of Seme. When the Luo attacked, Chief Nganyi allowed one of them to marry his
daughter as an effort toward restoring peace. He managed to mobilize his subjects to
defeat the Abalogoli and the Abashisa.
Abidakho recount their war with the Abatirichi and the Maragoli over the salt lick
(isukura) along the Lugose River, where they used to take their cattle for watering. They
defeated their enemies because of their strong clan organization, which gave the elders
freedom to act as war leaders (abasesia). Cooperation among the six Idakho clans
guaranteed mutual understanding and assistance in the face of crisis. Apart from the
legends with political content, there are narratives about the establishment of professional
skills in particular clans or family lines.
Some of the Abaluhyia ethic segments have songs that allow them to relive past war
experiences. The Babukusu, for instance, sing about Maelo Wa Khaindi, whom they
believe was born of a Muwanga mother from the ruling Beshitsetse clan (Makila 1976).
He led the Bukusu army to victory against many of its enemies, including the Bamia
(Teso) mercenaries. A war song in praise of Maelo’s exploits as a victorious commander
is sung today in Bukusu circumcision ceremonies. There is also a proverb about
Kitimule, a brave warrior and excellent diplomat, who led the Bukusu to victory against
Kalenjin (Barwa) invaders. The proverb “reevanga Kitimule Wanyoa Ebuyumbu” (“ask
Kitimule who first visited Ebuyumbu”; Were, 1967) is a moral one, encouraging
reflection upon, and learning from, the experiences of brave and successful
predecesssors.
Legends about Professions
African legends also include accounts of the origins and establishment of magicoreligious and mundane skills. These legends justify the claim by particular lineages to
specific trades. There stories of admiration for great blacksmiths, potters, house builders,
medicine experts, and other specialists from whom skills are believed to have been
inherited. The Abanyore, Ababukusu, and Abatsotso narrate about accomplished rain
magicians (bajimba, bakyimba, and bagimba), who can induce thunder, lightning and
rain. These specialists are descendants of wealthy and polygynous personalities. There
are different versions, among rainmaking clans, of their lineage and the status of their
ancestors. They believe that the art of rainmaking was started many generations ago and
has since been transmitted from one ancestor to the next, always remaining in the same
family (Wagner 1970). For the Banyore and Maragoli, the first rainmaker was a woman
from the non-Bantu Nandi community; she settled among the Banyore people after being
expelled from Maragoli land.
The legends about special skills generally highlight the experiences of individuals who
often had some sort of contact with the supernatural. These skills are transmitted as
special occasions to specific lineages. The Tiriki recount how Malongo of Munzatsi Hill
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422
acquired the blacksmith’s skills from his father. He managed to maintain the skill of
smelting and working iron, becoming one of the main suppliers of metal implements,
such as hoes, spears, and arrows.
Conclusion
Legends among the Abaluhyia represent some of the typical fea- tures of historical
narratives common in African oral literature. They are mainly expressed in prose and
complemented by proverbs and songs. The legends mainly focus on genealogies,
migrations, warfare, and the successes and failures of personalities whom people believe
lived in particular historical contexts. These legends reflect the responses of different
ethnic groups to needs that press them in contemporary circumstances. These narratives
have been handed down to successive generations over the years as true accounts. Yet the
passage of time and the weakness of memory may allow for fictional aspects to become
included alongside factual material in the legend.
References
Fedders, A, and C.Salvador!. 1998. Peoples and Cultures of Kenya. Nairobi: TransAfrica.
Finnegan, R. 1970. Oral Literature in Africa. Nairobi: Oxford University Press.
Makila, F.E. 1978. An Outline History of the Babukusu of Western Kenya. Nairobi: Kenya
Literature Bureau.
Okpwewho, I. 1983. Myth in Africa. Cambridge University Press.
Rosman, A, and G.P. Rubel. 1995. The Tapestry of Culture: An Introduction to Cultural
Anthropology. New York. McGraw-Hill.
Sangree, W.H. 1966. Age, Prayer and Politics in Tiriki Kenya. Wagner, G. 1970. The Bantu of
Western Kenya: With Speical London: Oxford University Press.
Reference to Vugusu and Logoli. London: Oxford University Press.
Were, G.S. 1967a. A History of the Abaluhyia of Western Kenya: C1500–1930. Nairobi: East
African Publishing House.
Were, G.S. 1967b. Western Kenya: Historical Texts. Nairobi: East African Literature Bureau.
Werner A. 1968. Myths and Legends of the Bantu. London: Frank Cass.
BENSON A.MULEMI
See also Epics; Myths
LESOTHO (Kingdom of Lesotho)
With a temperate climate, Lesotho is a small country with a population of approximately
2.29 million people that is completely surrounded by South Africa. The capital Maseru is
the country’s largest city and home to 367,000 people. Lesotho is one of Africa’s most
homogenous nations, as the population is 98 percent Basotho and 2 percent Xhosa; most
live in the rural areas. English and Sesotho are the two commonly spoken lan guages.
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Christians account for 80 percent of the population while the remaining 20 percent
practice traditional indigenous religions.
Moshoeshoe I united the Basotho nation in the nineteenth century and led strong
opposition to Boer invaders. On October 4, 1966, Lesotho gained independence from
Britain and formed its own constitutional monarchy. Despite independence from Britain,
however, Lesotho’s government has been continually interfered with by South African
politicians, who have strongly influenced Lesothoan politics. The country’s economy has
not fared well since independence, because the United Nations has listed Lesotho as one
of the world’s least developed countries. As a result, each year about half of the country’s
male population leave the country to find work in South Africa. The country has also
suffered from political instability due to a series of kings and military leaders, despite the
return of a multiparty democracy in 1993. Some of the commerce Lesotho is able to
produce comes from the carpet, pottery, jewelry, mining, and tourism industries.
Despite its weak economic state, Lesotho is known for its high quality of schools and
has produced renowned writers since the mid-nineteenth century. There is a 71 percent
adult literacy rate. Many of the leading citizens of southern Africa are products of a
Lesotho education.
JENNIFER JOYCE
LIBATION
Libation is a magico-religious ritual that entails pouring liquid on the ground, or
sprinkling it on ritual participants or sacred objects, as a means of communication
between human and spiritual beings. The liquids used and the conditions of the ritual
vary by geographical, ethnic, and temporal contexts.
The word libation is derived from the Latin libatio, which denotes a sacrificial
offering of drink. It is also connected with the Greek noun loibe (which directly translates
as “libation”) and the verb leibo, which connotes the act of pouring the libation (Betz
1987).
In traditional African cultures, libations accompany sacrifices, rites of passage, and
prayers. In litany proceedings, the participants recall the meditative links between
spiritual beings and people. Libations are generally intended to earn the favor of
supernatural beings or spirits. In traditional African religions, (as in ancient religions,
such as those of the Babylonians and the Assyrians), libations could be poured as
separate offerings to spirits, gods, and God, through the ancestors. In traditional belief,
ancestors dwell in the ground as masters of the land. Participants in the libation believe
that the ancestral spirits can effectively receive milk, honey, oil, beer, or other beverages
through the ground. The libations are poured onto the earth through natural or artificial
cracks, openings, or holes. The preferred sites for religious libations are gravesides,
alters, homestead shrines, and sacred groves.
The main objective of libations in indigenous African religious and social contexts is
to appease ancestral and other spirits, thus encouraging their continued favor and good
will. Such rituals are also meant to propitiate spirits that cause disease and other
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calamities. The libations are therefore intended to prevent illness or misfortune, protect
human beings, and facilitate curing.
Background
Libation is a component of traditional African magico-religious belief systems.
Variations in these systems reflect ecological differences, which in turn affect peoples’
experience of the world, their ritualistic activities, and the material aspects related to
various cultural institutions. In sub-Saharan Africa, uniformity abounds in indigenous
belief systems and thought. Inasmuch as societies in sub-Saharan Africa share similar
worldviews, this essay provides an analysis of libation in aspects that can be generalized
to most of the African peoples living in this region.
Traditional belief systems and practices in Africa are centered on predominant modes
of production and the environment. Many ethnic groups are traditionally sedentary
farmers, tending food crops and rearing animals. Some societies are composed of
farmers, pastoralists, and hunter-gatherers.
Different physical and socioeconomic contexts have resulted in some evaluations in
religious orientation, philosophy of life, interpretation of experience and the approaches
to the spiritual and supernatural worlds. Libation is, therefore, an aspect in the expression
of the complex African worldview, made up of such elements as spirituality, values about
the family community, ancestral beliefs, and prayer. The African understanding of
contact between the visible and the invisible worlds is embedded in magico-religious
rituals, in which libation plays a key role.
Libation in African Spirituality
African religious beliefs reflect a deep concern with spiritual matters. A key belief is that
human beings can communicate with the spirits, and that those spirits can bring good or
ill fortune to humans. Since most spirits were once human beings, people attribute human
characteristics, such as anger, hunger, and craving for attention to them. People strive to
appease malevolent spirits with offerings of food, milk, beer, blood, and other forms of
drinks. Libation is, therefore, an integral component of spirit veneration, appeasement,
and general African worship. In popular cultural practices, food and drink create mystical
links between fellow human beings and between human beings and spiritual realities. In
this regard, libation and food offering is a means of sustaining relationships between
people and the spiritual world (Mbiti 1975).
African spirituality is drawn from the popular worldview in which the human and the
spirit worlds are interconnected (Dickson 1984). The indigenous Africans perceive the
world of natural phenomena as part of spiritual reality. Spirits, both good and evil,
populate the universe. Interaction among these spirits may have either positive or
negative consequences for human life. Due to this understanding, people live with one
another in relationships of reciprocal responsibility, which they transfer to their relation
with the other elements in the universe, such as the spirits. Some of the spirits—
especially ancestral ones—may help the living communicate with God and guard the link
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between the human realm and the divine. The spirits and lesser divinities serve as
messengers of God and execute His justice. As guardians of moral order, the spirits may
be either benevolent or malevolent at will. They may initiate catastrophic events if the
culprits do not placate them.
In most societies, the spirits that people believe to be causing trouble are appeased
through offerings of beer, water, or milk. Although blood is not a common form of
libation, some believe that it is the favorite drink of the spirits. The Maragoli and other
Luhyia people of western Kenya, for instance, invite spirits (Misambwa) to lick their
blood during major rituals.
The ground is very significant in the African prayers that accompany libation. It is
linked with spiritual power, as it is the source of livelihood and the abode of the dead.
Among the Akans and the Fanti of northern Ghana in West Africa, for instance, the earth
(Asase Yaa, Asase Efua) is personified as the mother of humanity. The ground, therefore,
is the first to receive gestures of gratitude such as drink offerings, which the ritual
participants expect to be transmitted to ancestors as secondary meditative spirits. The
ground is, therefore the most important link between the living people and the invisible,
spiritual world.
Libation and Worship
Worship and prayer to God are conducted through the ancestors, who inhabit a mediating
role. The ancestors continue to have interest in their surviving descendants, who continue
to “live” in spiritual forms. They understand the needs of their living relatives, which
these ancestors are more qualified to transmit to God as they share His spiritual nature.
Libations are poured on the ground in front of a shrine or an object representing the
ancestors during acts of prayer (Odak 1995). In this case, offerings of drink and food are
perceived by the people as ways in which the ancestors can be convinced to listen to their
prayers and traffic them to the supernatural.
As an important component of spirituality and worship, libation, along with sacrifice,
acts as a medium of trade between human beings and ancestors. This ritual is used to
demonstrate the people’s seriousness in seeking spiritual assistance. In both agricultural
and pastoralist societies, beer, milk and water are poured out for this purpose to the dead
and clan divinities (Leinhardt 1987). In special rituals, the libations are given as names of
afflicting spirits and divinities are invoked. In such cases, libations are intended to win
the favor of the spirits. Offerings of drink in most of the indigenous settings are part of
the solemn activities in ancestral cults. In these contexts, the people recall their belief that
there is life after death, and that the dead continue to express an active interest in
everyday affairs of the living descendants. It is in appreciation of their role as watchdogs
of the lineage that clan and family members offer them libations. In West African
societies, fresh water or millet flour mixed with beer or palm wine is used as libations
(Olupona 2000; Anti 1987). In this circumstance, libations are used to find out the
ancestors’ temper and influence their action in relation to the assignment to be
accomplished or the help being sought. The use of alcoholic drinks is intended to produce
the same effect on the ancestral spirit as it perceived among human beings. This implies
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that some societies use libations to manipulate the ancestors’ disposition in order that
they can act according to the human needs.
Sacrifice, offerings, and libations are closely related because they constitute a
significant component of African worship. Sacrifices involve the slaughter of a domestic
animal to God or ethnic divinities through the ancestors. Although blood is a rare form of
libation, it is poured as an expression of the seriousness of calamities such as drought,
floods, epidemics, and death. In both agricultural and pastoralist communities, the blood
shed from the animal is the greatest and ultimate form of libation, one which reconciles
people with God and other divinities. Offering as part of religious ritual involves the
giving of material things, such as food, drinks, or coffee beans, as is the case in Uganda,
and Kola nuts in West African countries such as Sierra Leone. Pastoralists and
agriculturalists perform libations as part of supernumerary acts that accompany main rites
as in the rituals that follow sacrifice (Pritchard 1974; Lienhardt 1987). Ritual specialists
pour out liquids on the emblems or shrines to revere ethnic divinities, as is the case with
the Nuer and Dinka of Sudan.
The mystical power of ancestors and other spiritual beings is believed to flow through
the blood and other liquids to revive human vitality and welfare. Sacrifice makes it
possible for the living to enter into a relationship and spiritual union with ancestors, who
mediate for them. The ritual experts ensure that the intercession is possible through meals
and drinks shared with the ancestors. Part of the sacrifices are eaten by the members,
while some is left at the shrines or ritual spots to be “consumed” by ancestral spirits and
other spiritual beings such as ethnic divinities. Among the Chewa people of central
Malawi, the spirits of the dead (Mizimu) are offered portions of beer in small containers,
some of which is sprinkled on the ground near the shrines. However, many African
societies consider blood and other forms of valued drinks as the most important share of
the spiritual beings.
In some cultures, such as the West African societies, blood of the sacrificial animal is
sprinkled on the beneficiaries and the emblems of divinity. Alternatively, the participants
would partake in beer or beverage drinking at the ritual spot after pouring some on the
ground. The supernumerary rites, of which libation is one, create new bonds among
participants, and revitalizes human relationships with deities, ancestors, and God in order
to provide for human needs. Libations complement other rituals such as consecration,
invocation of supernatural beings, immolation, and aspersions to malignant spirits in the
acts of worship and spirit veneration.
Libation and Family Communion
The African family community is composed of the living, those yet to be born, and the
dead. The dead, and especially the ancestors, are important members of the family,
because their spiritual nature give them abilities to cause and prevent afflictions,
depending on their perceived relationship with the living. The dead are also believed to
be endowed with the power to guarantee good health and general human well-being,
provided that their rapport with the living is good. Filial-parental relationships exist
between the ancestors and their descendants. The living have a duty to take care of the
departed, while the dead have a responsibility to protect the living and ensure that they
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are successful in life. Ancestors retain a practical role in the human world. In this regard,
African kin groups are family communities of both the living and the dead. The ancestors
may either be benevolent or punitive, even capricious, and therefore they demand
acknowledgment from their descendants through various postfuneral rituals, which
include libation (Kopytoff 1971).
Libation to ancestors and “feeding” of the dead in African cultures is the privilege of
the elders (Kopytoff 1971; Mbiti 1990). However, libation can be poured by anybody
regardless of age, gender, and social status, especially when the ritual is a personal
undertaking. Traditional experts, who are mainly elders, handle libations on special
occasions such as ethnic festivals, when a god requires the offering, or when it is the
routine libation that requires a qualified representative of a clan, lineage, or family (Anti
1987). The rituals involve certain foods and drinks that are considered the dead persons’
favorites. These tokens are offered on the basis of the understanding that good
relationships are restored and sustained through the mutual care of the dead and the
living. In this sense, libations symbolize commemoration, and an incitement for the
departed to continue manifesting their favorable presence among the living. Elders
perform memorial libations at sacred sites such as gravesides, shrines, and other religious
places. In such cases, libations are accompanied by communication to the dead in the
form of invocative conversational monologue. These conversations communicate
gratitude, complaints, rebuke, bargains, and reminders about mutual obligations between
the living dead (or ancestors) and community members. In African traditional cultures,
the offering of food and libations to the dead is meant to prevent the evil deeds of the
dead, as is the case the Kamba society of eastern Kenya and the Acholi of Uganda.
The theme of communion with the family community of the living and the dead
through libation is also manifested in rites of passage. African rites of passage, especially
initiation, are conducted with the desire for ancestral sanction, participation, and
blessings in mind. Libation is an important part of the rituals that bind initiates to the
lineage or ethnic community, which includes the dead. The Bantu and other groups, such
as the Somali, who practice circumcision and initiation ceremonies perform public
celebrations by drinking beer and making libations. Water, beer, milk, and beverages are
poured on the ground or sprinkled on the initiates to invite them into the complex
communion of the living and the dead. This emphasizes the solidarity of the group and
the importance of their interdependence. It is through such offerings and libations that the
society members renew their ties with their fellows in both the visible and the invisible
worlds, of which the dead are a part (Mbiti 1990).
Libation to the ancestors for the sake of maintaining family communion in traditional
societies is accompanied by prayers. Drinks and food are offered together with prayers in
a few words imploring the spirits of the dead relatives to heed petitions and sentiments of
gratitude. In many African societies, the presence of the dead relatives is felt on a
concrete, daily basis. Therefore, people extend hospitality to the spirits of the dead
through the symbolic meal of bits of food and drops of drink accompanied with
incantations as recognition of the nearness and respect of the dead (Mbiti 1975).
Whenever possible, elders who administer libation acts may call upon the names of
particular ancestors or dead relatives. Alternatively, libation, as other magicoreligious
rituals, is linked to certain words that ask the ancestors to collectively hearken to the
person speaking.
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When libations are linked to worship and prayer, they are either communal or
individualistic practices. Individuals or groups perform worship and utter prayer rather
than making them meditations. The religious orientation of traditional cultures gives a
chance for both private and public libations. This is because community members are
always faced with daily life problems such as illness, barrenness, and bad omens.
Libations are thus part of practices that have been put in place to enable the people
respond to their spiritual worlds. The practice of libation in African cultures accompanies
the prayers (Mbiti 1975; Mbiti, 1990; Shorter 1975; Anti 1987), before the
commencement of work, and other communal ceremonies such as naming, marriage,
initiation, funerals, and during numerous religious, social, and political celebrations.
Conclusion
Libation in traditional African cultures is a magico-religious ritual and is part of worship
and prayers, which expresses the indispensable spiritual unity between the living and the
dead. It represents one way that the African concepts of communion among family,
lineage, and clan members are reinforced. Belief in the reliance of human beings on the
Supreme Being, the ancestors, and the deities is also reflected in African libation practice.
However, some libations are devoid of supplication, as they are projected to influence the
supernatural forces in a magical way. Adherents of African religion likewise articulate
their belief in reward, chastisement, and remorse through the drink gifts intended to
pacify ancestors and gods who become angry because of human wrongdoing and
violation of established moral codes. Libation reminds the living about the mystery of life
after death, and the mystical power which enables the living dead to guard their relatives
from the negative effects of power that emanates from the invisible spiritual world.
Libations, therefore, symbolize the human wish to maintain an equilibrium of interaction
with supernatural forces, the physical world, and fellow human beings. The preservation
of this stability augments health, success, and general well-being. In African belief
systems and thought, such equilibrium can be reestablished and sustained through
magico-religious rituals such as libation.
References
Anti, K.K.A. 1987. Libation in The Old Testament and Akan Life and Thought: A Critique. M.A.
dissertation, College of the Ascension, Birmingham. Available at
http://cedh.ewu.edu/faculty//ntodd/Ghana, March 3, 2003.
Betz, H.D. 1987. “Libation.” In The Encyclopaedia of Religion, vol. 8, ed. Eliade Mircea New
York: Macmillan.
Dickson, K.A. 1984. Towards a Theologia African. In New Testament Christianity For Africa and
the World, ed. M.Glasswell and E.Fashole-Luke London: S.P.C.K.
Kopytoff, Igor. 1971. Ancestors as Elders in Africa. Africa, 41:129–41.
Leinhardt, G. 1987. Divinity and Experience: The Religion of the Dinka. Oxford: Claredon Press.
Mbiti, J.S. 1975. Prayers of African Religion. New York: Orbis Books.
Mbiti, J.S. 1990. African Religion and Philosophy. Oxford: Heinemann.
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Odak, O. 1995. Kemeticism: The World Religion of Black Peoples. Nairobi: Madoa Cultural
Services.
Olupona, J., ed. 2000. African Spirituality: Form, Meaning, and Expression. New York: Crossroad.
Pritchard, E.E. 1974. Nuer Religion. New York. Oxford University Press.
Shorter, A. 1975. Prayer in the Religious Traditions of Africa. London: Oxford University Press.
BENSON A.MULEMI
See also Ancestors; Religion: African Tranditional Religion; Ritual Performance
LIBERIA (Republic of Liberia)
Located on the west coast of Africa, Liberia is tropical country neighbored by Sierra
Leone, Guinea, and Cote D’Ivoire. Of Liberia’s population over 3.26 million peoples 95
percent are composed of indigenous groups and 5 percent are classified as AmericoLiberian. The nation’s official language is English, although Kpelle, Bassa, Dan, Vai,
Wee, Loma, Kru, Glebo, Mano, Gola, and Mandinka are also spoken. Seventy percent of
the nation’s people practice traditional indigenous religions, 20 percent are Muslim, and
10 percent are Christian. Monrovia, Liberia’s capital and largest city, is home to one
million people.
Liberia (along with Ethiopia) is one of only two African nations that has been spared
European rule. It began in 1822 as a settlement of freed “repatriated” slaves from the
United States. Later over 6,000 slaves taken from slave traders by the British and
American patrols were deposited there. Between 1847 (when it formally became an
independent state) and 1980, Liberia’s government was composed of African American
settlers. Although these “Americo-Liberians” account for only 5 percent of the
population, their aggressive administration, which often, ironically, included slavery,
controlled the country for decades. There was resistance by interior peoples until 1915—
a resistance which anticipated the violence of the end of the twentieth century.
For much of the twentieth century, Liberia’s economy was largely based on the
revenue from Firestone rubber plantations (begun in 1927), iron-ore mining, and
urbanization. The economic presence of the United States has always been strong—in
fact, the dollar is still accepted in the country today. Almost all of the profits from these
industries, however, remained in the hands of the nation’s minority elite, as economic
conditions for the majority of the nation deteriorated. In 1979, after years of high
unemployment and inflation, riots broke out as police shot at demonstrators who
protested the government’s imposed 50 percent price increase of rice, the staple food of
Liberians. Amid the ensuing chaos, Sergeant Samuel Doe was able to take over the
government in 1980 and became the nation’s first indigenous president. Despite hopes
that he would bring positive changes to the country, Doe became increasingly dictatorial
throughout the 1980s, and economic conditions continued to worsen.
In 1989, unrest in the country erupted in a civil war with two rebel factions, one led by
Prince Johnson (whose forces brutely assassinated President Doe) and the other led by
Charles Taylor, who declared himself the next president. During the fighting, thousands
of civilians were killed in massacres, thousands were maimed, and thousands more fled
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the country. Despite the peacekeeping efforts of the Economic Community of West
Africa, violence and chaos have persisted in Liberia. As a result of the war, political
instability, a deteriorating economy, and a damaged infrastructure and culture have
plagued the nation. In 1996, Ruth Sandra Perry became Liberia’s first female president,
as part of the nation’s thirteenth peace accord. A year later, Charles Taylor was elected
president, but peace has not yet come to the nation and its future is uncertain.
Liberia is rich in the natural resources of iron ore, rubber, timber, and diamonds. The
country’s main industries are iron and diamond mining, rubber processing, food
processing, and lumber milling. Unfortunately, these industries have also been severely
damaged by the ongoing war. Also destroyed during the civil wars were the country’s
universities and museums.
JENNIFER JOYCE
LIBRARIES
Throughout the world, folklore is relayed through a variety of media; for example, print,
audio recordings, video recordings, or orally communication. In the African context,
folklore means to a large extent oral data, which are passed on by a variety of means, for
example, through storytelling, through recitations by griots, and other performances.
With the effects of urbanization and the influence of Western cultures this way of passing
on a culture’s traditions and knowledge of the past is disappearing. Over the past two
decades, attempts have been made by international organizations, as well as Western and
African scholars, to record this information in either print or audio format. These
attempts, however, are scattered, with much information as yet unrecorded. This, and the
fact that many of the existing recordings are in private collections, has implications for
African folklore researchers.
As pointed out by historian and librarian David Henige, a researcher’s time in the field
is usually limited by the amount of funding—doctoral students typically have funds to
support one year in the field collecting their data; other researchers may have a sabbatical
of one or two semesters (Henige 1989, 198–212). To make the most of their time,
researchers determine before their departure which collections exist, where they exist,
and the rules and restrictions of access. If a relevant collection is held by an archive or
library, it could save valuable time to access the material before the actual field research,
or at least get an index of its holdings. Consequently, a list of existing folklore collections
would be extremely useful. Unfortunately, whereas accounts and reports of various
collections exist, a comprehensive list is unavailable. Rather than attempting to create
such a list, this entry discusses some strategies for, and approaches to, locating folklore
collections about Africa—both in Africa and in other locations—thereby providing the
tools for the location of such collections.
It is clear that the field of folklore is highly interdisciplinary with branches in
literature, history, musicology, and so forth. Moreover, when trying to locate folklore
collections, one has to take into account that data exist to a large extent in oral form. To
conduct effective research, a combination of search strategies and approaches, as well as
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creativity and imagination need to be applied. Oral tradition plays an important role in the
African context; in fact, one cannot talk about African folklore without considering oral
tradition. Accordingly, this entry will focus largely on oral data, their collection and
location, issues of access, and provide a selective list of several major folklore
collections. This list is not intended to be comprehensive. In fact, considering the
interdisciplinary nature of the discipline, a comprehensive list would be beyond the scope
of this entry. Rather, it presents some of the largest folklore collections on Africa and is
intended to point the researcher to other sources so collections relevant to research can be
located.
Oral Tradition and Libraries
In cultures that are largely nonliterate, oral tradition plays an important role in
transmitting information. In fact, as Ghanaian librarian A.A. Alemna points out, “with
just about 40% of its people literate in the western sense, Africa is predominantly a
continent where oral transmission of knowledge is still the most effective medium of
communication” (Alemna 1992, 423). Scholars and researchers acknowledge that beside
the “culture of the written word” there is also a “culture of the spoken word,” which is
called folklore, and which needs to be collected and preserved as “testimony to ways of
life and areas of knowledge” (Raphael Ndiaye 1988, 45). Alemna reminds us that all
African communities encourage a consciousness in their members to preserve the
knowledge of their ancestry and past. Each community has its tales of how it originated,
as well as other forms of social information, such as “proverbs, poetry, praise names,
songs, myths, and legends” (1995, 127). There is a wealth of oral data, and the need to
collect it, as well as its related issues and difficulties, has been discussed by African
librarians for quite some time.
Bunmi Aleybeleye from the University of Ibadan in Nigeria, for example, points out
that there is a considerable amount of literature on the collection of oral data, but
surprisingly little discussion on how to make these collections available. He remarks that,
although individual approaches and styles of interview techniques may vary, the
methodological treatment of oral tradition is the same: (1) original data are collected in
the field; (2) a primary sources base is created with the publication of the raw materials;
(3) the materials are analyzed; and (4) a secondary sources is created with the publication
of the analysis and interpretation (1985, 421 f). Very often, however, step 2 does not
happen, for various reasons. The pressure on Ph.D. students or young faculty in U.S.
institutions, for example, is to publish secondary literature which gives a critical analysis
of materials. It is this kind of critical analysis that helps them advance their careers, rather
than the publication of primary sources. Another reason is that in many parts of Africa,
the field recordings are held by private collectors. Often, the existence of these
collections is known only within a comparatively small circle of people who know the
collector. Obviously, this has implications for the scholarship pertaining to these
collections.
Librarians and scholars alike have commented on this issue stressing both a need to
collect more data, and also to find ways of providing access. Alemna acknowledges that
librarianship in Africa has for a long time focused on what he calls the “‘dead end’ of the
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scholar’s effort,” that is oral information that has been recorded and exists in either audio
or print format (1992, 423). Recording information through interviews in the field has so
far been neglected. Similarly, other librarians/scholars, such as H.O.M.Iwuji and
A.O.Amadi, both warn of condemning vast parts of cultural information to oblivion if no
efforts are made to preserve it. Amadi describes the situation in strong and unmistakable
terms: “The grief arising from the devastation of a library by fire or similar causes in the
Western world is only comparable in intensity to the loss, through death, of an old man in
Africa. The later, like the former, is the veritable embodiment of an archive or a protolibrary—a library without shelves” (1981, 140; also quoted in Iwuji 1989, 205). To
remedy the situation, scholars/librarians such as Aleybeleye, Alemna, and Iwuji propose
a different role for both academic and public librarians. They suggest that the librarian
acts as field worker who actively goes into the villages to record data and then provides
access to them in the library. The library would thus become a center for a culture’s oral
heritage.
On the national level, several African countries have recognized the need to preserve
their oral heritage and have made attempts at collecting, organizing, and disseminating
oral tradition (see Appendix, African Studies Centers and Libraries in the United States
and Africa).
Both Alemna and Aleybeleye deplore that most of these projects have not been able to
fulfill all of their ambitious goals. One obvious reason for this has to do with funding.
The costs for funding such projects are high and ongoing, including money for personnel,
equipment, buildings, and so forth. Another issue is the training of personnel in collecting
the data, recording them, and providing access. Above all, the scope of collecting a
country’s oral data is enormous and requires a sustained effort of governments, funding
agencies, academic institutions, and libraries.
All these projects were initiated by African countries. However, not all collections of
African oral data are in African libraries. There exist numerous private collections, both
in and outside of Africa, collected by researchers who either store them at their homes, or
deposited them at their institutions or an archive known for its focus in that area. In the
case of private collections, access, or even finding out about their existence, can be
problematic. However, tools for the researcher to locate archival collections exist—some
of which are mentioned below.
Tools to Locate Folklore Collections
There are a number of journals devoted to improving access to African archival
collections. History in Africa, edited by ibrarian/ historian David Henige, is an example.
In his article on the state of archives in Africa, Henige discusses the lack of information
on archival collections in Africa and points out that as a consequence one of the goals of
History in Africa is to publish accounts of various African or Africanist archives. Another
journal worth mentioning in this respect is African Research and Documentation, the
journal of the Standing Conference on Library Materials on Africa (SCOLMA). This
journal typically publishes bibliographic articles and accounts of archival projects, such
as the Oral Traditions Association of Zimbabwe (OTAZI) and the East African Centre for
Research on Oral Traditions and African National Languages (EACROTANAL) which
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were both described in African Research and Documentation. Other international library
journals, such as the IFLA Journal (International Federation of Library Associations),
International Library Review, and Journal of Documentation can be expected to carry
similar accounts. And too, the African Journal of Library, Archives, and Information
Science occasionally carries reports or discussion papers on the collection of oral
traditions. Other major journals in the field are the Journal of Folklore Research and
Studies and Documents (Etudes et documents). All these journals are indexed in several
major indexes, such as Library Literature and Information Science, LISA Library and
Information Sci ence Abstracts, and Academic Search Premier (EBSCO). Using such
keywords as archives, oral tradition, folklore in Africa, and so forth, articles are easy to
locate.
The two major indexes for research on folklore, however, are the MLA International
Bibliography of Books and Articles on the Modern Languages and Literatures, which is
published annually. Volume 5 is devoted to folklore and, more specifically, includes
folklore in Africa; and Internationale Volkskundliche Bibliographie (International
Folklore and Folklife Bibliography and Bibliographic internationale des arts et traditions
populaires), which is issued twice a year. Like the MLA Bibliography, it is not devoted
exclusively to Africa, but includes many African entries.
Apart from those very useful journals and indexes, there are various handbooks and
directories that contain information about folklore collections and are worth consulting.
Somewhat outdated but still one of the most useful among them is Jean Gosebrink’s
African Studies Information Resources Directory, which aims at assisting in identifying
Africa-related materials and information services and their locations. Among other
features, it provides extensive annotated lists of “Information Resources for African
Studies” and “Resources in Church and Mission Organizations.” Headings for folklore
and oral data can easily be located in the index. Where available, it also lists finding aids
for each collection. Equally useful is John McIlwaine’s Writings on African Archives and
its supplements in African Research and Documentation “of works relating to archives in
African countries and to African-related material held outside the continent” (1998, 34).
Other handbooks—such as International Guide to African Studies Research, compiled
by Philip Baker; Africa: A Guide to Reference Material, by John McIlwaine; The African
Studies Companion, by Hans Zell and Cecile Lomer; and The SCOLMA Directory of
Libraries and Special Collections on Africa in the United Kingdom and in Europe,
compiled and edited by Tom French—while not focusing on folklore, provide lists of
major African studies collections worldwide that include various folklore collections.
More recently, Al Kagan and Yvette Scheven’s Reference Guide to Africa: A
Bibliography of Sources includes an excellent chapter on folklore, which provides an
annotated list of research guides, surveys, and collections. The chapter concludes with a
selective list of subject headings that are useful to locate folklore titles when searching
handbooks, online catalogs, and other databases.
Last but not least, dissertations can provide useful current information on folklore/oral
collections in and about Africa. Dissertations in the field are usually based on extensive
field research, and, apart from representing the most current state of research, their
bibliographies may provide useful hints about the existence of collections otherwise
unknown. In some cases it might also be helpful to contact the author of the dissertation.
The most obvious way to find out about dissertations is for the researcher to consult
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434
Dissertation Abstracts International and conduct a keyword search. As the title implies,
however, this source covers dissertations from all areas of the world, not just Africa.
Michigan State University librarian Joe Lauer’s compilation of “Recent Doctoral
Dissertations on Africa,” which regularly appears in ASA News, is an invaluable resource
in this respect. The compilation is drawn from DAI but only lists dissertations from
Africa.
Please see the Appendix African Studies Centers and Libraries in the United States
and Africa located at the back of this volume for collections on African folklore in the
United States. As in Africa, there are numerous private collections with their associated
problems of access, as discussed above. However, there are also numerous collections in
libraries and archives, which have been donated or deposited in libraries by field
researchers. (The same is true for Europe. Just like American archival collections,
European collections can be located by using the handbooks and directories cited above.)
The list in the Appendix is a selection of important collections and by no means
constitutes a comprehensive list. The field of folklore comprises a variety of subfields,
such as music, literature, history, and so forth, and in libraries throughout the United
States and Europe, there are collections recorded in the field, reflecting these different
disciplines.
Conclusion
Notwithstanding the projects outlined in the Appendix, the necessity to collect and record
more oral data is obvious. It is equally important to provide access to existing collections
by publishing reports of their existence, creating finding aids, and making them available
to the public. This is particularly important for private collections, but it also applies to
collections in libraries and archives. The lists of collections—for both Africa and the
United States—are by no means comprehensive, and it is safe to assume that many more
collections exist, unreported and therefore not widely accessible. One step in the direction
of providing more information about private collections would be, as Alemna,
Aleybeleye, and others have suggested, a “law enjoining researchers, masters and
doctoral students to deposit copies with translations of their field tape recordings in an
academic library,” and all institutions collecting oral data should publish lists of their
holdings (Alemna 1995, 134).
Saliou Mbaye reports that this has happened in the case of The Primary Institute of
Black Africa (IFAN Cheikh Anta Diop) in Senegal, where local and foreign researchers
have deposited copies of their recordings. Unfortunately, the Senegal example is the
exception rather than the rule. Since academic success is based on original research, it
might be hard to convince researchers to relinquish their recordings before they have had
the opportunity to analyze them for publications. A more realistic proposal might be to
ask researchers to deposit their materials after a certain amount of time, for example, two
to five years, has elapsed. By that time, their findings have been published, and by
making the field recordings accessible, a scholarly discourse can take place.
Other obstacles for the collection and dissemination of oral data, such as the sheer
scope of such projects as well as costs, training issues, and maintenance of equipment,
seem overwhelming. However, the fact that African governments, international
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organizations, as well as scholars and researchers have all recognized the need for action
and are making attempts to rescue Africa’s wealth of oral folklore is cause for optimism.
Moreover, new information technologies, including the ability to digitize vast amounts of
data and making them available in the electronic environment, may well turn out to be the
solution. Particularly the increase of wireless technology may enable African librarians to
digitize many of the oral collections and their finding aids, thereby bypassing a lot of the
costs and issues imposed by print formats. This would serve the purposes of providing
accounts of such collections and of preserving Africa’s oral heritage.
References
Alemna, A.A. 1995. The Management of Oral Records by Libraries, Archives, and Other Related
Institutions in Ghana. African Journal of Library, Archives & Information Science 5, no. 2:127–
136.
—. 1992. Towards a New Emphasis on Oral Tradition as an Information Source in African
Libraries. Journal of Documentation 48, no. 4:422–29.
Aleybeleye, B. 1985. Oral Archives in Africa: Their Nature, Value and Accessibility. International
Library Review 17:419–24.
Amadi, A.O. 1981. African Libraries: Western Tradition and Colonial Brain-Washing. New
Jersey: Scarecrow Press.
Baker, Philip. 1987. International Guide to African Studies Research! Études Africaines. Guide
International de Recherches. London: Hans Zell.
French, Tom (ed.). 1993. The SCOLMA Directory of Libraries and Special Collections on Africa in
the United Kingdom and in Europe. London, Melbourne, Munich, New York: Hans Zell.
Gosebrink, Jean E.Meeh, ed. 1986. African Studies Information Resources Directory. Oxford,
London, Munich, New York and Paris: Hans Zell.
Hamilton, C.A. 1989. The Swaziland Oral History Project. History of Africa 14:383–87.
Henige, David. 1989. The Half Life of African Archives. In Africana Resources and Collections:
Three Decades of Development and Achievement, ed. Julian W.Witherell, Metuchen, N.J. and
London: Scarecrow Press.
Iwuji, H.O.M. 1989. Librarianship and Oral Tradition in Africa. International Library Review
21:201–07.
Kagan, Alfred, and Yvette Scheven. 1999. Reference Guide to Africa: a Bibliography of Sources.
Lanham, Md.: Scarecrow Press.
Mbaye, Saliou. 1990. Oral Records in Senegal. American Archivist, 53, no. 4:566–74.
McIlwaine, John. 1996. Writings on African Archives. London and New Jersey: Hans Zell.
—. 1993. Africa: A Guide to Reference Material. London, New York: Hans Zell.
Msiska, Augustine W.C. 1987. “An Attempt to Establish an Oral History Project in the University
of Zambia Library, Lusaka Campus.” American Archivist, 50, no. 1:142–46.
Ndiaye, Raphael. 1988. Oral Culture and Libraries. IFLA Journal 14, no. 1:40–6.
Pickering, David. 1999. A Dictionary of Folklore. New York: Facts on File.
Studies and Documents (Études et documents.) 1980–1987. Zanzibar: EACROTANAL (Eastern
African Centre for Research on Oral Traditions and African National Languages).
Zell, Hans, and Cecile Lomer. 1997. The African Studies Companion: A Resource Guide &
Directory. London and New Providence, N.J.: Hans Zell.
MARION FRANK-WILSON
See also African Studies Centers and Libraries (Appendix); Institutional Study of
African Folklore
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LIBYA
Libya is perhaps best known for its leader, Muammar Qadhafi, one of the longest-ruling
heads of state in the world. The country of Libya borders the Mediterranean, and, in
clockwise fashion, Egypt, Sudan, Chad, Niger, Algeria, and Tunisia. Almost all
semidesert, it is a large country covering nearly 685,000 square miles. Libya is only
thinly populated with approximately 6.4 million inhabitants, 86 percent of whom live in
cities, mostly in the capital of Tripoli. It is predominantly an Arab country in language
and culture, although there are a few ancient Berber groups scattered throughout the
country. The majority religion is Sunni Muslim (97 percent of the population).
Historically, Libya has been ruled by various foreign powers: the Turks, Italians,
English, and French. Italy conquered Libya in 1911 as part of its African territorial
aspirations over several decades which included today’s Eritrea, Ethiopia, and part of
Somalia. Eventually, the historically distinct areas of Tripolitania and Cyrenaica were
united. Opposition to Italian rule began before World War II, although it was due to the
war that Italy lost all its African territories. The French and English appointed a king in
1959, but by 1963, foreign oil companies were the real power. In 1969, Colonel
Muammar Qadhafi led the revolt which overthrew the monarchy. Not only has Qadhafi
remained in power, but he has been an active member of the League of Arab States and
the Organization of African Unity. Libya’s foreign policy is usually opposed by the
United States and European powers, especially given Qadhafi’s active support of many
liberation movements around the world.
However one may view its foreign policy, internally Libya has profited greatly from
its oil revenues. In addition to oil, iron ore and cement are exported. Although it has the
highest standards of living in Africa, it depends heavily on imports. Farming is limited to
the coast but it is highly productive. While Libya may not be democratic as it asserts,
what cannot be disputed is that women are in a better position than in many Arab
countries. Adult literacy is 76 percent and there are five universities.
PHILIP M.PEEK
LIMBA
See Stories and Storytelling: The Limba
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LINGUISTICS AND AFRICAN VERBAL
ARTS
Artists use ordinary language as their raw material; by crafting it, manipulating it, and
shaping it with their artistry, they create language which is extraordinary, poetic,
metaphorical, powerful, and esthetic.
What makes a verbal message a work of art? This is the question Roman Jakobson
(1960) poses in a classic essay on linguistics and poetics, an essay which constructs a sixpoint model of communication with each point determining a different function of
language. Jakobson defines the poetic function of language as that function that focuses
on the message for its own sake. “Poetics deals with problems of verbal structure, just as
the analysis of painting is concerned with pictorial structure. Since linguistics is the
global science of verbal structure, poetics may be regarded as an integral part of
linguistics” (1960, 350). Jacqueline M.Henkel (1996) surveys the contributions of lin
guistics to literary theory over the past four decades. Starting with Ferdinand de
Saussure’s paradigm of language as a system that should be studied not only in terms of
its individual parts but also in terms of the relationship between those parts (1915), she
goes on to detail Jakobson’s communication model, the influence of Noam Chomsky’s
work in generative transformational grammar, and John L.Austin and John R.Searle’s
work on speech-act theory. A fundamental theme running through all the models is that
language is rule-governed behavior. Saussure established a distinction between langue
(the language system) and parole (the act of speaking) and described the distinction by
analogy to the game of chess where there is a distinction between the rules and
conventions of the game and any actual game. Searle also draws on the analogy between
games and speech acts. Just as a game cannot exist independently of the rules that define
it, speech acts are successful only if they satisfy certain conventions or conditions. These
conditions are part of what Chomsky refers to as competence, a person’s knowledge of
the rules of a language, as opposed to performance, the actual use of that language in real
situations (Crystal 1987, 407–09). What makes a verbal message a work of art, then, is
the conscious manipulation of the “rules,” of the form or structure of language, for artistic
purposes.
Nketia (1971) and Okpewho (1992) describe various stylistic markers in African
verbal art. Repetition is a stylistic device which calls attention to form and which can also
be used as a structuring mechanism. The conscious repetition of some aspect of
language—a tone, a sound, a syllable, a word, a phrase—highlights that particular
feature. Prosody and meter are typically defined in terms of patterned linguistic units
such as number and kind of syllables, stresses or tones and thus also involve repetition.
Repetition is also the organizing principle of poetry and song, both of which can be
defined as “rhythmic language, divided into regularly recurring units of rhythm (or
abstract time), characterizable as lines” (Bird 1972, 207). Hausa for example, makes no
linguistic distinction between poetry and song, both being called waak’aa. Schuh (1988)
has demonstrated that Hausa oral poetry is organized metrically by its musical
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accompaniment, which can be analyzed in terms of measures containing a fixed number
of beats. The analysis of oral performance reveals that silence can have metrical value
and is thus as important a structuring element as sound. An esthetic tension is created by
the manipulation of the structuring elements such that expectations that are established
through repetition are satisfied, withheld or even violated.
African verbal artists manipulate sound in a variety of ways for esthetic effect. The
pitch of the voice may be altered so as to suggest a supernatural being or a creature that is
very tiny or very huge. The Hausa ogre Dodo, for example, is performed in a very loud,
low-pitched voice. Okpewho mentions that masquerades “often speak through voice
modifiers…to further enhance the nonnatural, eerie character of the masquerades’
spiritual essence” (1992, 267). Excessive nasalization or palatalization might be
associated with the speech of particular characters in oral narratives. The Hausa trickster
Gizo, for example, is characterized as speaking with a lisp, and the Akan Anansi as
“speaking through the nose.” The use of ideophones is particularly evident in
performance, and ideophones generally have a distinct phonological shape. In Hausa
ideophones are often marked by reduplication (lugwi–lugwi, “soft”) or end in
uncharacteristic consonants such as /f/ (tsaf, “completely”).
Verbal art forms such as proverbs, epithets, and riddles often exhibit grammatical
structure that is a deviation from that of ordinary speech. There are many Hausa proverbs
with the structure: nominal phrase sai nominal phrase, for example, “Hakurin kaya sai
jaki,” Patience under a load, only a donkey [only a donkey shows patience under a load].
This construction is typically not used in everyday speech, although it is sometimes used
creatively, for example in poetry. The word order of these constructions may be unusual;
function words may be omitted. In the Hausa proverb: “Arziki rigar kaya,” Prosperity is a
coat of thorns [because of the obligations it brings with it], the word ce would normally
be expected at the end of the sentence. The focus on irregular grammatical structure is
often heightened by concurrent stylistic features such as alliteration or rhyme, as in the
Hausa proverb “Zumu zuma ne,” Relationship is honey [blood is thicker than water],
which plays on the auditory similarity of the two words.
Verbal art is frequently ambiguous or polysemantic, especially if it involves politics,
ritual, or sexual relations. Young Hausa men have praises for themselves which are called
taakee, and which regularly allude to their sexual prowess; praise singers for royalty
often criticize by means of innuendo; women obliquely abuse their co-wives (Furniss
1996). Artists capitalize on multiple lexical meanings to create ambiguity, but also
exploit structural characteristics such as similarity of sound, to suggest additional
meanings. The most extreme form of ambiguity occurs when messages are conveyed
through speech surrogates such as drumming or gongs.
In the process of creating verbal art, a discourse about language, or metalanguage, is
often created as well. The Hausa trickster Gizo, for example, provides performers with a
means to discuss language through the metalinguistic terminology of his own speech:
baki biyu (“two mouths”), deceitful speech; romon kunne (“ear broth”), flattering,
meaningless speech; tsammin baki (“sour-mouth”), baby-talk, and Gizo-talk. An
examination of the verses in praise of the bori spirit Mai Dara suggests that the voice of
the spirit is powerful, as strong and fearsome as that of the ogre Dodo, of a lion. Seen as
metaphorical discourse about language the verses proclaim that language is so powerful
that it must by used judiciously. It can have farreaching effects, it can convey truth, it can
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convey hypocrisy. Its power can and should sometimes be tempered by rechanneling it,
by having a spokesperson intervene. Ournarou (1996) illustrates how Zabia Hussei and
Ali na Maliki, two contemporary oral artists from Niger, create a poetic metalanguage as
they create poetry itself, by using images such as the building offences or farming to
allude to the process of creating oral poetry or song.
Verbal art and the artists who create it are often believed to be endowed with
exceptional power. This is in part because of the capacity of verbal art to transform, to
produce an emotional response. Language which is rhythmic, metaphorical, or
ambiguous is created by calling attention to linguistic form and structure. Jourdain (1997)
suggests that emotion is a reaction to unexpected experience. Verbal artists craft language
in unexpected ways, thereby committing what Jakobson refers to as “organized violence
on ordinary speech,” (1960, 353) and in so doing create language with the power to
move, to impassion, and to transfix.
References
Bird, Charles. 1972. Aspects of Prosody in West African Poetry. In Current Trends in Stylistics,
eds. Braj Kachru and Herbert Stahlke. Champaign, Illinois: Linguistic Research.
Crystal, David. 1987. The Cambridge Encyclopedia of Language. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press.
Elhadji Ournarou, Chaibou. 1996. Individual Talent in Contemporary Hausa Oral Poetry. Ph.D.
dissertation, University of Wisconsin–Madison.
Furniss, Graham. 1996. Poetry, Prose, and Popular Culture in Hausa. Washington, D.C.:
Smithsonian Institution Press.
Henkel, Jacqueline M. 1996. Language of Criticism: Linguistic Models and Literary Theory. Ithaca
and London: Cornell University Press.
Jakobson, Roman. 1960. Concluding Statement: Linguistics and Poetics. In Style in Language, ed.
Thomas A.Sebeok. Cambridge, Mass.: M.I.T. Press.
Jourdain, Robert. 1997. Music, the Brain and Ecstasy. New York: William Morrow.
Nketia, J.H.Kwabena. 1971. The Linguistic Aspect of Style in African Languages. Current Trends
in Linguistics 7:733–57.
Okpewho, Isidore. 1992. African Oral Literature: Backwounds, Character, Continuity.
Bloomington, Ind: Indiana University Press.
Saussure, Ferdinand de. 1915. Cours de linguistique Renerale. Paris: Payot.
Schuh, Russell, G. 1988. Prealable to a Theory of Hausa Poetic Meter. In Studies in Hausa
Language and Linguistics: In Honor of F.W.Parsons, eds. Graham Furniss and Philip J.Jaggar.
London and New York: Kegan Paul International in association with the International African
Institute.
LINDA HUNTER
See also Ideophones; Proverbs; Silence in Expressive Behavior
LUBA
See History and Folklore: The Luba
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LUGBARA
See Narration and Verbal Discourse: The Lugbara of Uganda
LUHYIA
See Legends; East Africa Medicine; Superstitions
LUNDA
See Festivals: Mutomboko Festival of the Lunda
LUO
See East African Folklore: Overview
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M
MAASAI
See Prose Narratives
MADAGASCAR (DEMOCRATIC
REPUBLIC OF MADAGASCAR)
Madagascar, the world’s fourth largest island, is a country of approximately 17 million
people, located off of Africa’s southeast coast. Madagascar’s moderate-to-tropical
climate has fostered a unique ecosystem that has produced flora and fauna found nowhere
else on earth. Antananarivo, the nation’s capital and largest city, has a population of 1.1
million. Madagascar’s ethnic makeup consists of Malayo-Indonesian, Cotiers, French,
Indian, Creole, and Comoran as well as African. The major languages spoken are
Malagasy and French. Over half of the islanders practice traditional indigenous religions
(52 percent); 41 percent are Christian and 7 percent are Muslim.
The Imerina monarchy ruled much of the island from 1797 to 1861, but by 1895, the
French had established their control. On June 26, 1960, Madagascar gained its
independence from France after fifty-six years of colonization and subsequently formed
the first Malagasy Republic. This system lasted for twelve years, until, after the mounting
unrest of peasants, students, and workers, a coup overthrew the government. A new
constitution, implemented in 1975, allowed for controlled multiparty political
competition. Since 1980, the country has suffered from a poor economy, and new
political instability has emerged as a result. Elections held in 1989–1990 strengthened the
multiparty democracy, and there has been an improvement in the respect for human rights
and freedoms. Nevertheless, recent elections have revealed continued civil strife.
Nearly 80 percent of the Malagasy are employed in the agricultural sector, which
produces rice, coffee, vanilla, cotton, and sugar. Sources of revenue come from industries
such as food processing, textiles, mining, and paper. Despite its image as a tropical
paradise, Madagascar is an ecological disaster, due to centuries of exploitation of the
environment, and many fear for the future of its natural resources, flora, and fauna, as
well as its human inhabitants.
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Madagascar has produced many great twentieth-century poets. Many of these, poets
such as Jean-Joseph Rabearivelo, were known for their unique writing style, which
blended local Malagasy forms and rhythms (inspired by the hainteny form, a
characteristic of popular island songs) with influences from the French literary and
intellectual scene.
JENNIFER JOYCE
MAGHRIB (NORTHWESTERN NORTH
AFRICA) FOLKLORE: OVERVIEW
The term Maghrib was first used by Arab geographers to designate the western part of the
Arab world, as opposed to its correspondent in the east, the Mashriq. The latter, Mashriq
(from sharaqa, “to rise”), refers to the place where the sun rises, that is, the Arab Orient;
whereas the former, Maghrib (from gharaba, “to set”), designates the area where the sun
sets on the Arab world. The Maghrib, or “Sunset,” is situated in North Africa, spreading
westward from Libya to the Atlantic Ocean and southward from the Mediterranean to the
Sahara desert. It is composed of the countries known today as Morocco, Algeria, and
Tunisia. It was originally peopled by Berbers, who still represent a high percentage of the
population in Algeria (about 25 percent) and Morocco (60 percent).
From the eighth century, the Arabs began populating the Maghrib. A first wave
brought their new religion, Islam, which was adopted widely. The second wave, in the
eleventh century, made up of nomads (the Banû Hilâl, or “Sons of Hilal”) who shared
their pastoral way of life with the natives, exerted a deeper influence in the process of
acculturation and Arabicization.
However, while Arabic has now become the official language, and Arabicization is
total in all spheres of social life, the people of Berber origin continue to use their mother
language and to claim, mostly in Algeria, the right to have their culture acknowledged.
Sometimes French, the language of the former colonizers, is also spoken.
The three countries acquired independence from France (1956–1962), but the access
to independence for the Algerians was at the cost of a cruel war of seven years (1955–
1962). Since then, the three states of Algeria and Morocco (with approximately 30
million inhabitants each) and Tunisia (approximately 9 million) have tended towards
unification. This has occurred in spite of divergences and occasional crises aroused
mostly by frontier conflicts between Algeria and Morocco, and by Islamic extremism,
which has been a potent force in Algeria for the last decade.
In 1989, two neighboring countries, Libya at the east (with 5 million inhabitants) and
Mauritania to the southwest (2.5 million inhabitants) joined the three countries of the
Maghrib in the “Union of the Arab Maghrib”; the goal was to build a vast geopolitical
conglomerate (Lacoste 45–50). Now the word Maghrib, or phrase Great Maghrib, has
been gradually applied in political spheres to a wider area than traditionally implied.
Nevertheless, this entry will focus primarily on Morocco, Algeria, and Tunisia.
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A corn market in Morocco, 1960. Photo © Micheline Galley.
An auction in Morocco, 1960. Photo © Micheline Galley.
Besides the Arabs and the Berbers who represent the main constituents of the
Maghribian society, two other populations should be noted. First, there are the Jews, a
very ancient community that was augmented by new members after their expulsion from
Spain in 1492, but that has almost completely emigrated to the western countries and to
Israel in recent years. Second, there is a black African population, descending from
African slaves brought from the south.
These populations suggest there has been much cross-cultural fertilization within
Maghrib society. For example, the narrative cycle of “The Maiden Who Seeks Her
Brothers” (Arne-Thompson 1964, 451) although very popular in several pastoral areas of
Algeria and Morocco, reflects a system of kinship and marriage that is common among
African social groups farther south (Galley 1994, 40; Baklouti 1988, 115–21).
Sometimes, on the other hand, external influences have been well integrated into the
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Maghribian folk culture. Their effect has produced interesting local syntheses, as
illustrated in Tunisia at the time of the Ottoman Empire by the adoption of the nowvanishing shadow theater, the Turkish Karagoz. Other examples, due to contact with
Mediterranean peoples, can be cited. Underglass painting, for instance, is likely to have
been introduced into Tunisia by the Italians in the last part of the eighteenth century. Still
a vibrant tradition, it draws its inspiration from folk beliefs (e.g., the Evil Eye) as well as
religious and epic subjects. It has asserted itself as a genuine Tunisian folk art.
Main Trends of Maghribian Folk Culture: Ancient Rituals
Not surprisingly, the folklore of the Maghrib includes pre-Islamic agrarian rituals.
Although they are disappearing, carnival celebrations have been widespread in the
Maghrib. Those who take part in them indulge in frenzied dances and performances of a
satirical nature inspired by social life. They usually give themselves the appearance of
animals, hence the name Bû Jlûd, literally, “the one covered with hides.” They may also
assume some other disguise, as does the Bû Lîfa, “the one covered with palm fibers” and
Bû Shâyb, “the old one.” Generally speaking, the masquerade is performed on ‘Ashura,
the “10th day” of the first month of the Muslim year (Doutté 496–5, 10). Other fertility
rites have been practiced, in order to bring rain (Galand-Pernet 1998, 88–92) or to mark
the end of the harvest season, when fires are lit on the thrashing floor on the night of
‘ansara, June 24th (Doutté 1984, 566 ff). The fertility and growth of plants is
symbolically encouraged by placing in them “male” twigs to help bring about
“impregnation.” In certain areas, southern Tunisia for instance, cheerful children used to
pick up some earth and throw it over a fig or palm tree, while singing:
The earth of the ‘ansara is better than the male tree.
Some fertility rites draw clear associations between Nature and human beings. On the
feast of May in the region of Nefta (Tunisia), young girls used to take a bath in a spring,
then go swinging to and fro, singing:
Pharaoh, O Pharaoh
Make my hair longer,
Make my vagina bigger.
The palm tree is
Prolific with bunches of dates.
(unpublished)
On the other hand, folk religions have developed forms of piety and rituals that exist
alongside official religion, but not always in conformity with it. Among the Muslims, the
sacred tombs of Marabouts—literally, those who are “linked to (God)”—are the sites of
popular pilgrimages. As a matter of fact, the worship of holy men and, although less
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frequent, holy women has been widely practiced by Muslims and Jews alike (Zafrani
1983).
Folk Poetry
As far as the verbal arts are concerned, the various forms are, to a large extent, shared by
all ethnic groups throughout the Maghrib, including proverbs and sayings (Ben Cheneb
1907; Westermarck 1930), riddles (Quemeneur 1944), lullabies and nursery rhymes
(Jouin 1950). Poetic duelling has always been enjoyed by the people, along with other
traditional and complex forms of poetry, among which is the highly appreciated malhûn,
expressed in a type of poetical speech (koine), which exists halfway between literary and
colloquial Arabic.
The themes are many. In hagiographical literature, they may deal with either
meditative ecstatic thoughts or bitter (sometimes sarcastic) reflections on earthly living;
striking examples are provided by the sayings and quatrains attributed to an itinerant saint
called the Mejdûb (literally, “one whose mind has been ravished” from dancing; hence, a
dervish). In lyrical genres, folk poets pour out their thoughts and feelings. Love poems
may include Bacchic elements as in the following:
Bring the wine, waiter, and quench our thirst,
Remove our vicissitudes and, with wine, make us feel alive.
My gazelle has come to visit me;
She is sitting in front of me like the radiant moon…
(transl. from Belhalfoui 1973, 63).
But one of the most popular motives still is, as it was in the classical odes, the search for
the vestiges of the encampment in the sand, associated with happy memories of the past
irretrievably lost:
I wandered among the tribes of noble Arabs
Nowhere did I see El-Aalya (my beloved)
I saw no one capable of informing me
Except on the traces of the abandoned camp…
(transl. from Belhalfoui 1973, 149).
A popular genre, haufi, is improvised during ritual games by young female singers, who
thus are given the opportunity of expressing social taboos attached to love and marriage.
There are also folk music and songs used as vehicles of political protest to which folk
singers today resort before enthusiastic audiences, at the risk, sometimes, of their own
lives. In the 1990s, a Kabyle singer, Lounes Matoub, was murdered, following the deaths
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of several others of both Berber and Arab origin. However, the very popular and
subversive genre known as ray in Algeria and elsewhere has gained an international
reputation through the network of show business (Virolle 1995).
Folk Narratives: A Long-Ignored Heritage
Arabian folk literature in general has long suffered from prejudice. The main reason for
this negative attitude lay in the gap that existed in the minds of the grammarians and
theologians between classical Arabic—the language of the Quran and “accepted”
literature—and colloquial Arabic, the everyday spoken language of the people. It
required courage to declare that the language of folk poets was rich and subtle, which is
what the fourteenth century historian Ibn Khaldun did. He heard some bards in the south
of Algeria sing of the adventurous migration of the Banû Hilâl to the Maghrib. In his
time, in addition to attacks on its “bastard” language, the contents of folk literature were
condemned as “a web of lies.” The use of khurrafa to designate wonder tales is
significant: this word is associated with lies, extravagant talk, and dotage and refers
normally to a strictly feminine repertoire.
As to the “Orientalist” scholars, their views appear to be biased by standards of
literary composition, in spite of the fabulous vogue enjoyed throughout Europe by
Arabian narratives, such as the One Thousand and One Nights and the adventures of
Antar, the famous “Prince of the Desert,” both still popular in the Maghrib as well. Due
to these attitudes, scientific collection and study of Maghribian narratives only began in
the late nineteenth century and then essentially for linguistic purposes. We owe to
linguists, such as Samuel Biarnay, Georges S.Colin, Edmond Destaing, Hans Stumme,
and others, the first reliable corpuses, especially in Berber dialects.
However, for half a century, due to the efforts of specialists such as Germaine Tillion,
Lionel and Paulette Galand, and David Cohen, researchers were trained in the systematic
collecting of folktales, the study of performance, and all the aspects of the tales’ further
analyses. In the meantime, the countries concerned started to develop a new interest for
their cultural identity, contributing, although not always sufficiently, to the organizing of
fieldwork, scientific meetings, and publications.
Folktales
Once upon a time there was and there was not… At the
time when the blind used to see and the palsied used to
jump over the walls…
This type of initial formulae draws the listeners into a realm of fantasy in which
everything is possible, but also a world in which powerful genii and all sorts of terrifying
beings prevail. This is why storytelling is regarded traditionally as potentially dangerous.
A storyteller performs only at night in order to be immune from dangers. One of the risks
is to have one’s children affected with ringworm (El Fasi and Dermenghem 1926, 17).
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The world that the narrator conjures up is not answerable to the same rules and forces as
the world people commonly inhabit. Time and space are measured differently: a day’s
walk may be like eternity, whereas it does not take long to fly over the Seven Seas on the
wings of an eagle and reach a heavenly orchard where rejuvenating apples grow (Légey
1926a, 71–3).
The narrative genre comprises other categories of tales, besides the above-mentioned
khurrâfa. Their names suggest generally true-to-life contents (e.g., hikâya, “tale,
account”; qissa, “narration”; sîra, “epic”). But even within narratives of a more realistic
nature, no real transition separates the everyday surroundings from a supernatural
environment.
Nevertheless, they grapple with problems inherent to life in society. The more
recurring range from the universally tragic situation of orphans as in “Cinderella” (AarneThompson 510)—whether they are secretly fed by their dead mother who takes the shape
of a cow (e.g., Amrouche 1966, 55–62) or the orphan daughter flees incest from
brother/father as in “Cap o’ Rushes” (Aarne-Thompson 510B)—to the crucial question,
for a man as well as a woman, of finding on the basis of verbal skill an appropriate mate
(e.g., “The Basil Maiden,” Aarne-Thompson 879, in Galley 1971:153–80). Thus, new
aspirations and ancient fears are expressed.
However, fiction also has an essential role in education: that of teaching a child, in a
playful manner, how to behave within and outside the family. The basic rule is not to be
cheated by others but get the upper hand in all social relations. For that purpose, he/she
must be on the lookout to anticipate the others’ tricks and acquire a quick flexible form of
pragmatic intelligence that includes, most frequently, mastery over language.
This is illustrated in several cycles. In one of them (a combination of “The Children
and the Ogre” and “The Boy Steals the Giant’s Treasure,” AT 327–328; e.g., Mouliéras
1892, 136–153 and Baklouti 1988, 91–4), the young hero triumphs over an ogress in spite
of his physical appearance as suggested by his name (“Half Man” or “Little Smartie”).
Also very small in size is the Maghribian “Rhampsinitus” (AT 950; e.g., Laoust 1912,
186–8), whose story develops into a series of challenges from the clever thief at the
address of the sultan and/or his Jewish counselor.
Cunning is equally central to animal tales, in which a jackal and a hedgehog are the
primary protagonists. Special mention must be made also of the funny anecdotes
attributed to Joha, a many-sided complex character known throughout the Mediterranean
world. Others play tricks on him, treating him like a gullible simpleton; eventually,
however, he gets his revenge (e.g., Dallet 1963, 266–277).
The trickery of ruse and stratagem is generally attributed to women. Old women, in
particular, excel in deceit, dealing unscrupulously at the expense of men.
Other kinds of tales represent the individual in contact with the divine. When
confronted with his/her fate, the hero then accepts, fully and willingly, what he/she
believes to be ordained by God. Such an attitude must not be mistaken for a fatalistic
conception of life, since the individual somehow turns acceptance into an extremely
dynamic force.
In a recurring cycle, the young boy who is doomed to seven years of misfortune takes,
so to speak, his destiny in hand, while lending himself to God’s will (e.g., Frobenius
1921, 3, 208–37). In another cycle, the hero spontaneously believes in the “Good
Precepts” (AT 910) delivered by a wise person and blindly follows them for his/her
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success. A Moroccan tale shows a youngster attracted by the discourse of a “seller of
words,” to whom he does not hesitate to give all the money he was supposed to spend for
the food of the family (Kaddouri and Reboul 1986, 154–64).
When the tale comes to an end, the narrator sometimes uses a proverb as if to express
the meaning of his story in a subtle poetical way. He also has at his disposal formulae
whose function is double: protective at the time when one leaves the world of magic and
aesthetic for the aural pleasure of the audience. Such phrases sound as follows:
Hiyya mshât tetkerbeb
Wa-na jît f-el-merkeb.
(My story) has gone, tumbling down its slope
And I am getting back on my boat.
(heard from Moroccan storytellers)
Epics
Folk epics play an outstanding part in Arab culture. Besides Antar, one of the Arabian
epics whose popularity has been considerable is the sîra (literally, “biography”) of the
Sons of Hilal. The Hilalians were a nomadic people from Arabia who constituted, as was
said before, the second wave of Arab conquerors in the present Maghrib. Of the complete
body of the sîra, two narrative sequences have developed in the Maghrib, centered upon
the more cherished characters of Dhyab and Jazya.
The former sequence deals with the intense, sometimes dramatic relationship between
father and son, Ghanim and Dhyab, during which tests of verbal intelligence provide an
unquestionable proof of paternity. The latter is focused on the antagonistic, yet close,
relationship between Dhyab and Jazya themselves; in most versions, they eventually get
married after she has evaluated his capabilities through various tests of cleverness.
This famous couple embodies the ethics of the group: self-sacrifice, courage,
hospitality, and eloquence (Guiga 1968). A recent Algerian version reflects a nostalgia
for the time when Jazya and Dhyab served as models:
In the old days people used to drink milk
as white as their hearts
And today they drink coffee
as black as their hearts.
In the old days people used to be free and true
like Dhyab and Jazya…
We followed their example…
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(transl. from Nacib 1994, 269)
References
Aarne, And, and Stith Thompson. 1961. The Types of the Folktale (FF Communications 184)
Helsinki: Academia Scientiarum Fennica.
Amrouche, M.T. 1966. Le grain Magique. Contes, Poèmes et Proverbes berbères de Kabylie. Paris:
Maspéro.
Baklouti, N. 1988. Contes populaires de Tunisie. Sfax: I.N.A.A. (Institut National d’Archéologie et
d’Art).
Belhalfaoui, M. 1973. La poésie arabe maghrébine d’expression populaire. Paris: Maspéro.
Ben Cheneb, M. 1907. Proverbes arabes de l’Algé et du Maghreb. Paris: Leroux.
Biarnay, S. 1917. Etude sur les dialectes berbères. du Rif Paris: Leroux
Chimenti, E. 1965. Tales and Legends of Morocco. New York: Aaron Benami.
Colin, G.S. 1955. Chrestomathie marocaine. textes citadins en transcription latine Paris:
Maisonneuve.
Dallet, J.M. 1963. Contes kaybles inédits. Fort-National: F.D.B.
Destaing, ed. 1907/1911. Etude sur le dialecte berbère des Béni-Snous. Paris: (2 vol.). Leroux.
Doutté, ed. 1984. Magie et Religion dans l’Afrique du Nord. Paris: Maisonneuve and Geuthner.
El-Fasi, M., and E.Dermenghem. 1926. Contes Fasis Recueillis d’apres la tradition orale. Paris:
Rieder.
El-Kasshat, M.S. 1968. The Folk Literature of Libya. Beyrut.
Frobenius, L. 1921. Volksmärchen der Kabylen. Jena: Diederichs.
Galand-Pernet, P. 1998. Littératures berbères. Des voix, des lettres. Paris: PUF (Presses
Universitaires de France).
Galley, M. 1994. Classiques Africains. Badr az-Zin et Six Contes Algériens. (2nd ed.). Paris.
Galley, M., and Ayoub, A. 1983. Classiques Africains. Histoire des Béni Hilal et de ce qui leur
advint dans leur marche vers l’óuest. Paris.
Galley, M. and Z.Iraqui Sinaceur 1994. Dyab, Jha, La’aba. Le triomphe de la ruse. Paris:
Classiques Africains.
Gellner, E. 1969. Saints of the Atlas. London.
Guiga, A. 1968. Min ’aqasis bani hilal. Tunis: M.T.E.
——. 1968. La geste Hilalienne. Tahar Guiga, ed. Tunis: M.T.E.
Hejaiej, M. 1996. Behind Closed Doors: Women’s Oral Narratives in Tunis. London: Quartet
Books.
Hilton-Simpson, M.W. 1924. Algerian Folktales. Folklore-. XXXV
I.B.L.A. (Institut des Belles-Lettres Arabes). Tunis: N. 45.
Jouin, J. 1950. Chants et jeux maternels a Rabat. Hespéris, XXXVII.
Kaddouri, M., and I.Reboul. 1986. Les contes de chez moi. Sud Maroc. Paris.
Laoust, E. 1912. Etude sur le dialecte berbère du Chenoua. Paris: Leroux.
——. 1949. Contes berbères du Maroc. Paris: (2 vol.). Leoux.
Légey, F. 1926a. Contes et Légendes populaires du Maroc recueillis a Marrakech. Paris: Geuthner.
——. 1926b. Essai de folklore marocain. Paris: Geuthner.
Mouliéras, A. 1892. Les fourberies de Si Djeh’a. Paris: Leroux.
——. 1965. Légendes et Contes Merveilleux de la Grande-Kabylie, trans. C.Lacoste-Dujardin.
Paris: Maspéro.
Nacib, Y. 1994. Une geste en fragments: la Saga hilalienne des Hauts-Plateaux algériens. Paris:
Publisud.
Noy, D. 1966. Moroccan Jewish Folktales. New York.
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Quémeneur, J. 1944. Enigmes tunisiennes. Tunis: I.B.L.A.
Stumme, H. 1893. Tunisische Märchen und Geschichtte. Leipzig: Heinrichs.
——. 1895. Der Arab. Dialekt des Houwara des Wad Sus in Marokko. Leipzig: Heinrichs.
Tauzin, A. 1993. Contes arabes de Mauritanie. Paris: Karthala.
Virolle, M. 1995. La chanson raï. de l’Algérie profonde a la scène Internationale. Paris.
Westermarck, E. 1926. Ritual and Belief in Morocco. London: Macmillan.
——. 1930. Wit and Wisdom in Morocco. A Study of Native Proverbs. London: Macmillan.
Zafrani, H. 1983. Cent ans de vie juive au Maroc. Paris.
MICHELINE GALLEY
See also Epics; Folktales; French Study of African Folklore
MAGHRIB: ALGERIA
Located in the northernmost part of Africa, in the center of the Djazirat-al-Maghrib (the
island of the Maghrib) of the ancient Arab geographers, between the kingdom of
Morocco and the republic of Tunisia, Algeria (etymologically speaking) is the country
“of the islands” (Al-Djazair). Its contemporary name dates back to the period of the
Turkish occupation and refers to the establishment of the port of Algiers on a group of
islets, a short distance from the coastal capital of today.
Despite Algeria’s important maritime front on the Mediterranean (approximately 744
miles), the country’s real center is located in its arid region, that is, in the regions of the
high plains and central Sahara. At the most, the coastal areas cover only a thin strip of a
few hundred kilometers in depth.
From the geomorphological point of view, as well as in terms of historical matters, it
is difficult to distinguish Algeria from the rest of the Maghribian ensemble. Two
imposing mountainous ridges run parallel across the country from the southwest (Saharan
Atlas) to the northeast (Tellian Atlas) and then converge to form an imposing
mountainous range, the Aurés. From the shores of the Mediterranean to the great
stretches of desert, four major types of topography can be distinguished: (1) the
discontinuous chain of coastal plains between (2) the mountainous massifs, (3) the
expansive stretches of steppes, and (4) the few oases, scattered for the most part in the
northern part of the Sahara.
The major cities are all located on the narrow coastal strip where most of the country’s
agricultural areas are located. Indeed, the extraordinary development of the oil in the
second half of the twentieth century industry should not distract from the importance of
Algeria’s secular agricultural and pastoral traditions. From this perspective, it seems that
the ancient reputation as “Rome’s breadbasket” corresponded to an undeniable economic
reality, that of a rich region producing high yields of cereals.
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History
From an historical point of view, despite differing theories, most scholars believe that the
territory that corresponds to the Algerian Republic today was probably settled, beginning
in the east, through successive waves of populations. From prehistoric times on, those
who defined themselves as Imazighen (sing. Amazigh, “a free man”) occupied a vast
region, the climate of which at that time was much more humid than it is today. Prior to
the long period of the Roman domination, Algeria witnessed several occupations, the
most important of which was unquestionably that of the Phoenicians (circa the twelfth
century BCE), then of the Carthaginians (starting in the sixth century BCE).
Subsequently, and for more than six centuries, the Lybian populations (ancestors of
the Berbers in Arabic and European historiography) would become Roman subjects,
spread out between the Numids (in the east) and the Moors (in the west). The history of
the Algerian peasantry has been characterized for a very long time by the experience of
dispossession (Bourdieu 1958). Nevertheless, as shown by relatively recent scholarship,
the resistance of the indigenous population to Romanization is a lasting and important
event (Benabou 1976; Lacheraf 1988).
Later, the collapse of the Roman Empire and the arrival of the Vandals, followed by
the Byzantines, would exacerbate the Algerians’ spirit of independence. Yet, when the
Arab-Muslim expeditionary force set out to conquer North Africa at the end of the
seventh century, Algeria underwent rapid Islamization, despite the many military
episodes during which the courage and pugnacity of the Berber tribes and the fierce
affirmation of a secular identity were strongly displayed.
Subsequently, the representatives of the various powers—mainly the Almoravids and
the Almohads—all the while seeking to preserve their autonomy, would oscillate for a
long time between the influences of West and East, seeking a political balance and a
coherent sociocultural structure between the great kingdoms of “Westernmost Maghrib”
(Al-Maghrib-al-Aqsa), Andalusia (Al-Andalûs), the dynasties of ancient Ifriqiya
(Tunisia), and those of the successive Oriental powers.
Beginning in the second half of the eleventh century, the arrival of the Hilalian tribes
and their gradual settlement throughout the country initiated the definitive and massive
Arabization of the indigenous Berber populations, especially the rural and nomadic ones.
In the sixteenth century, Algeria became an Ottoman province, governed by a dey
(governor of the regency of Algiers) who was a representative of the “Sublime Port”
(Constantinople, seat of Ottoman power). Whatever the real motives—a subject that has
given rise to bitter debates among colonial and Algerian historians—the Turkish military
intervention is best interpreted in light of the great geopolitical and economic upheavals
which reestablished a power balance between West and East in the Mediterranean basin,
with spectacular consequences for the whole world.
Turkish rule was applied only indirectly and was reduced, most of the time, to a mere
fiscal effort aimed at regularly draining the Algerian countryside of its meager surplus of
crops. There was a famous incident between the French consul and the dey of Algiers
when, during a financial dispute, the dey grazed the consul’s cheek with his fly-whisk.
This served as a pretext for French military intervention. The fly-whisk incident aside,
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France’s intervention of July 5, 1830, by imposing a strong and lasting presence on the
southern edge of the Mediterranean, was aimed at putting a stop to the race led by the
Algero-Barbaresque fleet based in Algiers and at hampering the expansionist policies of
the European powers (especially England) in the Mediterranean basin.
Contrary to the thesis long perpetrated by the historians of the colonial system, the will
to resist the invader was active in a violent, concerted, and permanent manner from the
very first days of the French occupation. Whether it took the form of peasant jacqueries,
urban insurrections, or relatively passive campaigns of disobedience at the level of the
community, the region, or the entire country, the national sentiment evolved against a
background of deep religiosity and political consciousness exacerbated by the
increasingly expansive and violent character of the colonial mission.
From the spectacular celebration of the Centennial of French Algeria in 1930 to the
onset of the armed struggle (November 1, 1954), the speeding up of events and
proliferation of bloody episodes involving the Algerian nationalist movement reveal how
the movement was rapidly radicalized under the pressure of the people.
From this point of view, we can argue that the contradictions with which the country
struggled (and continues to struggle) probably originated in the organization of the
Algerian national polity during this crucial period between the two wars and also in the
blindness and intransigeance (not to speak of the arrogance) of the French administration
and of a good part of the French political class.
By removing the moderate leaders along with their projects of “shared development,”
the “ultras” on both sides compelled the “November Revolution” to adopt radical—and
often dangerous—ideological, political, and economic orientations, the consequences of
which, in some cases, were to jeopardize, in a lasting way, the harmonious development
of the country.
Thus, the rigidity of the state’s political machinery, the unwieldiness of a centralized
planning system (modeled on the Soviet system), the anarchic collectivization of the big
agricultural domains, the low productivity of the so-called model of the industrializing
industries, the incoherence of a “specific” socialism intended to synthesize an imported
technology and a political model with the community values of a people deeply attached
to their religion, language, and ancestral customs led little by little to a serious crisis that
reached its climax during the events of October 1988.
At the beginning of the new century, one of the most severe aspects of the “Algerian
crisis” lay in the almost neurotic relationship that Algerians had with memory and
identity. Indeed, following the traumatic experience of colonialism, and confronted with
the increasing influence of Western culture (especially felt through the media) and with
the potency of a largely idealized Oriental referent (if only because of its religious
dimension), new generations of Algerians find it difficult to define the cultural trajectory
of their country. It is also difficult for them to identify the basic elements of a secular
cultural project in the exhibition of devalued symbols of a local folklore.
Already in 1968, Mostefa Lacheraf made a severe assessment: “Today, ‘folklore’ and
the abusive exploitation of the war’s heroes have become the two staples in certain
countries of the Maghreb. On an even greater scale, they have become successive
substitutes for the exotic colonial subculture and the ‘patriotic’ and legionnaire epic by
which the French continued to exert their protracted domination on us” (1988, 46).
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It is true that, as a result of the upheavals of recent history, the postindependence
youth of Algeria have lost sight of the richness of the cultural legacy of their ancestors.
Yet, numerous documents written, at least since the Middle Ages, by writers and scholars
of the country’s various regions have left us precious information on the religious,
literary, and artistic practices of the Algerians.
Anthropological Literature
Among the most prestigious of these sources remain, undoubtedly, the two great works of
the scholar Ibn Khaldoun: The History of the Berbers and the famous Muqaddima, the
latter, unfortunately, too often missing essential chapters (especially the linguistic and
literary ones) on the specific features of Maghribian culture.
In those works we find mention of Arabo-Andalusian repertories (Muwashshahât and
‘Azjâl), still greatly practiced in Algeria’s main cities, as well as women’s songs (Hawfi)
and, especially, excerpts of poems retracing the geste (a set of epic poems) of Diâb the
Hilalian. Ethnographers, travelers, and other European Orientalists also published
numerous (often somewhat fanciful) monographs quite early, gathering a rather
impressive collection of various materials: agrarian rites, collective songs, religious customs, practices of confreries (pious associations established by followers of a Tariqa or
“sacred path”), and so on.
We can, of course, remain, somewhat critical regarding the aims and research
methodology used by those researchers who were largely influenced, if not manipulated,
by the colonial system. Nevertheless, today we need to recognize that their works allow
us at least to have a relatively coherent idea of the state of the Algerian cultural tradition
in the first half of the nineteenth century, and this to the extent that the oral tradition was
greatly disrupted by the violence of the military, political, and ideological repression.
Since we are dealing with constituent features of this tradition, we must insist from the
outset on the decisive importance of the Berber “anthropological foundation,” even
though the syncretic phenomena are numerous and ancient (especially with the Arab
world, Muslim and Judaic). Whether we are dealing with ancestral expertise
(agropastoral or urban), craft industries (basketry, pottery, copperware, etc.), religious
practices (connected to the orthodox worship practices as well as to the preIslamic rites)
or with the properly artistic expression (music, literature, dance, etc.), we can readily
determine the invariants of a culture specific to this region of the Mediterranean and
embodied more visibly by four major human communities.
Both numerically and geographically, the Kabyles represent the most important and
often the most active group in terms of identity vigilance. This was the case, for example,
during the events of the “Berber spring” in April 1980, when a series of strikes and
demonstrations were violently repressed, thus, marking an important chapter in the
reclaiming of Amazigh identity. In sociocultural terms, they perpetuate in their
mountainous regions a model of community organization characterized by family and
group (djma’a) values founded on cohesion, on the respect of the Ancients, and on a
particularly strict honor code. The systematic disinheritance of women (contradicting
Quranic prescriptions) and the importance of the maraboutic cults, as well as the
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numerous magico-religious rituals, are a good illustration of the particular way the Berber
populations have accommodated Islam and its cultural contributions.
Though the rather frequent use of Arabic as the vernacular tongue, along with
Chaouia, testifies to the close contacts maintained by the Chaouia peasants and nomads
with their Arabophone neighbors of the Tell and the Sahara, a certain number of features
show the singularity of this steep and particularly rugged region. Thus, we encounter
clearly pre-Islamic practices, and the status of the Chaouia woman (who, of course,
remain formally subjected to the dominant males: father, brother, husband) presents great
flexibility, a flexibility embodied quite spectacularly in the figure of the ’Azriya. This
truly “free” woman, who rejects marriage and assumes (through music, poetry, dance) a
codified status of a marginal person, enjoys the group’s respect and affection.
Beber Communities
The Mozabites, trace their origin in the Maghrib to the political and ideological
consequences of the famous schism that occurred in the Muslim community upon the
death of the Prophet. Defined as dissidents by their co-religionists, pursued throughout a
great part of the Middle East, they finally chose a landscape of grandiose aridity, in the
valley of the M’Zab river (northern Sahara) to develop their culture. According to Pierre
Bourdieu, this culture
draws the source of its cohesion from the wealth of its historical,
legendary and doctrinal traditions, from the harmonious precision of the
groups’ interactions within the different communities, from the ingenious
functioning of the ittifâqât, consigned in writing and fertile in
jurisprudence, finally, from a doctrine, all at once flexible and rigid,
which defines a perfectly original lifestyle in North Africa. (1958, 38)
More than all the other Berberophone communities in Algeria, the taurea (sing, targui)
nomads were affected (although belatedly) by the effects of French occupation and the
political divisions inherited from this period. Indeed, their ancestral home, astride on
several countries—Algeria, Lybia, Mali, Niger—has undergone such a fragmentation that
the targui culture is in great danger of extinction. Yet, up to the turn of the century (date
of the first incursions of the French army into central Sahara), these “lords of the desert”
had been able to preserve cultural traditions inherited from their distant ancestors, the
Garamante Berbers, whose symbolic representations adorn the walls of numerous
underground shelters of the region. Although completely Islamized, the tuareg have
adapted the Quranic message to the constraints of their lifestyle and to the rigors of their
environment. Thus, the legends, the tales, and epic songs intertwine various elements of
the indigenous tradition with those of Muslim popular mythology. Likewise, the status of
the woman—matriarchy has often been used (wrongly so, it seems) to characterize the
type of organization of the targui family—is particularly favorable. Perhaps a symbol of
this very special status can be seen in the woman’s right to maintain real “poetic salons”
and to be the only one to play a musical instrument (imzad).
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Mention should be made of the other Berberophone communities of lesser numerical
importance scattered throughout the national terrritory and living in often mountainous
(Chenoua, Beni-Snous) or desert (the Zenetes of Gourara) isolation. Despite some
relatively significant variants, they all present a certain number of common cultural traits
which Pierre Bourdieu summarizes as follows: “a certain independence toward Islam
(with the exception of the Mzab), especially noticeable in the legal system; a peasant love
for the earth and for the relentless work which fertilizes it and the predominance of direct
farming, an apparently egalitarian social structure that involves the territorial concept.”
(1958, 7)
Care must be taken not to minimize the role of the Arabo-Muslim culture, and the
significance of its models, in every milieu and in every region of the country. Whether
one defines oneself as or feels oneself to be a Amazigh, an “Arabized Berber,” an
“Arab,” an “African” or simply a “Muslim,” an Algerian always positions him or
herself—partly or completely, implicitly or explicitly—in relationship to a linguistic
heritage (Arabic), a faith (Islam), values (pride, courage, generosity, etc.), and a political
ideal (Umma), assumed to be from the Orient.
Whatever the claimed, ethnic origin, it is clear that the lived culture is a synthesis of
East and West, of Africa and the Mediterranean. This syncretism is obvious in most
sociocultural areas. It is manifest, for example, in the cult of the saints, which combines
an Arabo-Muslim-inspired liturgy and extactic practices (often of African origin) with
clearly indigenous magico-religious rituals.
Likewise, in the culinary realm, if couscous—prepared according to numerous
variants—seems to belong to an indigenous tradition, pastries and certain urban dishes
clearly bear the mark of the Middle East (Turkey, Iraq, Syria). Architecture is also a good
example of this historic synthesis of which the Maghreb has been the stage over the
centuries. Examples include the Great Mosque of Tlemcen, with its simple-shaped
minaret and typically angular Andalusian silhouette, and the Ketchaoua Mosque of
Algiers, with its imposing proportions, its Byzantine cupola, and its clearly oriental
ornate style.
As for music, we know that Eastern, Western (Andalusian), Mediterranean, and
African (sub-Saharan) have combined with indigenous Berber repertories. This stylistic
plurality is expressed in the various occasions and celebrations that mark profane and
sacred life: Andalusian Spain (Gharnata, Çan’a), West Africa (Fundu, Diwân), Turkey
(Zorna), medieval Orient (Muwashshah) or contemporay Egypt (repertories of Mohamed
Abdelwâhab or of Oum Kalthoum). One of the most significant popular examples of the
métissage (a combination of cultural features within one sociohistorical field) of
Maghribian musical genres and forms is Rai music, which displays both the influence of
a secular tradition and a wide-ranging syncretic development.
Many of the endogenous sociocultural traits noted by Bourdieu in the 1960s have
changed or simply disappeared under the weight of the socioeconomic and cultural
changes that have occurred since independence. One factor contributing to this trend is
the phenomenon of rural exodus and mass schooling. Thus, the relationship to the oral
tradition, religion, the family (in its broadened understanding), the land, work, and
marriage has changed considerably.
Urban children no longer play on swings or with marbles, but instead watch Japanese
programs on TV. Young couples more frequently indulge in weddings that combine a
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456
good part of the traditional ritual with some fashionable European features at a time when
newspapers often denounce the scandalous fate reserved for senior citizens, who are often
placed in poorly maintained nursing homes.
Here, as elsewhere, acculturation affects increasingly broad and vital sectors of the
Algerian population, exacerbating, even more, a crisis that contains a fundamentally
cultural component. Yet, far from being an exclusively negative phenomenon, it is
important to recognize that the metissage of civilizations (of which, since ancient times,
Algeria has been the stage) represents a formidable wager for the future. In many sectors
of intellectual and artistic life, new forms are emerging that involve a vital and creative
relationship with the indigenous tradition and the often paradoxical representations of
modernity.
References
Benabou, Marcel. 1976. La résistance à la romanisation. Paris: Maspero.
Bourdieu, Pierre. 1958. Sociologie de l’Algérie. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France.
Dermenghem, Emile. 1954. Le culte des saints dans l’Islam maghrébin. Paris: Gallimard.
Ibn Khaldoun, Abd al-Rahman. 1863–1866. Les prolégomènes, 3 vols. (Traduction De Slane).
Paris: Imprimerie imperiale.
Lacheraf, Mostefa. 1988. Écrits didactiques sur la culture, l’histoire, et la société. Alger:
Enterprise algérienne de presse.
Mammeri, Mouloud. 1991. Culture savante, culture vécue (Études 1938–1989). Alger: Editions
Tala.
Yelles, Mourad 1990. Le hawfi. Poésie féminine et tradition orale au Maghreb. Alger: Office des
Publications Universitaizes.
MOURAD YELLES
See also Maghrib: Berber Peoples: Their Language and Folklore; Maghrib:
Northwestern Africa
MAGHRIB: BERBER PEOPLES: THEIR
LANGUAGE AND FOLKLORE
Introduction
The term Berber has been used in Europe by travelers and writers since the sixteenth
century to designate some of the inhabitants of North Africa. It continues to be used
today in scientific works and in the press. There is no “Berber race” in which one can
identify common physical or physiological criteria, and there is no geopolitical entity
encompassing the “Berbers.” Yet, if one must eliminate labels like “the Berber race,” one
can nonetheless, refer to “Berber-speaking peoples,” because the term Berber does
identify linguistic commonalities.
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In many African states, including Libya, Tunisia, Algeria, Morocco, Mauritania, Mali,
Niger, and Burkina-Faso, there are groups of Berber speakers. The Siwa Oasis in Egypt is
the easternmost location of Berber speakers, and the Canary Islands were home to
speakers of Berber dialects until roughly the fifteenth century, before the Spanish
Conquest. The numerical and social importance of Berber-speaking communities is rather
variable. There are a few oases such as Ghadames and Ghat in Libya, only certain
villages in Tunisia, and some Zenagas sparsely scattered in Mauritania. However, there
are probably several hundreds of thousands of Berber-speaking nomads throughout the
Sahara, specifically the Tuaregs of Algeria, Mali, Burkina-Faso, and Niger, some of
whom have settled in communities due to various climatic and political conditions.
The most compact, and usually the most sedentary, Berberspeaking groups are found
in Algeria (at the oases of Mzab, Aures, and Kabylies) and in Morocco (in the Rif,
Central and South Atlas, Anti-Atlas, and the Sous Plain). In the western Maghrib, Berberspeaking peoples have long occupied the mountainous zones, including valleys and
foothills, with the southern reaches comprised of tillable plains or barren stretches of
land. As of the nineteenth century, these populations have emigrated towards urban areas,
often undertaking a temporary emigration that permitted sending sustenance to village
families. This emigration has accelerated in the past decades, with entire families often
joining the father, not only in the large cities of the Maghrib, but also in Europe
(especially in France, Belgium, Holland, and Germany). Even North America can claim a
few Berber-speaking groups.
It is not easy to evaluate the number of Berber speakers because official censuses,
either in African states or in the states receiving their immigrants, do not take their
language into consideration. One can offer approximations by relying on estimated
percentages of the total population supplied by the state, for example, 1 percent of
Tunisia, 20–25 percent for Algeria, and 35 percent or more from Morocco. There are
demographic fluctuations, as well as variations due to cultural and political claims of the
Berber speakers, that tend to inflate the numbers. Official statistics in the states that do
not recognize Berber as a national language tend to reduce the estimated number of its
speakers. Although it is recognized as a “national” language in Mali and Niger, nowhere
is Berber considered an official language. Around 1990, one could hypothesize the
Berberophone world as numbering around fifteen to twenty million individuals.
The structural unity of the Berber language has been well established by linguistic
studies, but there is no official Berber standard. Each of the different regions has its
language, which can he approximately defined by dialectal traits and by zones of
intercomprehension. Intercomprehension may not be complete between speakers from
southern Morocco and a Kabyle or a Tuareg from the Sahara, but it may more or less
easily occur because of the common linguistic foundation, despite grammatical or lexical
differences. In the states where Berber is spoken, and in the areas of emigration, efforts to
establish a common language, understood by all and called Amazigh or Tamazight, have
begun. There is work being done currently to represent spoken Berber in the written Latin
alphabet.
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History of Migration and Settlement
It is commonly thought that the Berbers descend from the oldest of the Maghrib (western
North Africa) populations. Excavations are more and more methodically performed by
archaeologists. Their studies of bones, burial artifacts, tools, drawings, and rock paintings
have permitted a tentative chronology. Around 7000 BCE, two human populations lived
in the Maghrib. One of them had already been established there for a long time, while the
other came from the East and presented Mediterranean characteristics of a diverse nature.
Ancient cultural relations with European peoples and even more with the Eastern
Mediterranean regions are also apparent. Egyptian data, in addition to that provided by
Greek and Roman travelers and historians, provided the first historical accounts of
encounters with Berber peoples. Several centuries before the time of Christ, the
Phoenicians and then the Punics of ancient Carthage established themselves in North
Africa. Their influence continued even after their defeat and the destruction of Carthage
by Rome in the second century BCE. The Romans remained in North Africa from 200
BCE until 500 CE and either clashed or united with the Berber tribes, several of which
were grouped into more or less stable kingdoms.
As of the seventh century, the Arabs, the carriers of Islam, also encountered Berber
resistance; but by the eleventh century, Islam prevailed, due especially to repeated
invasions of Hilalian Arab nomads who infiltrated throughout the western regions.
Groups of converted Christians and Jews endured for a few centuries. Berber-speaking
Jews remain, most notably in Morocco.
Islamization did not occur without conflict, and one of the forms of resistance—as had
previously been the case for Christianity—was the constitution of heterodoxical Islamic
doctrines maintained by Berber groups and sovereigns. Islamization is a determining
factor in Berberophone traditions.
Language
The analysis of the linguistic structures of Berber with respect to the comparison of
regional varieties and to the comparison, first with Semitic languages and then with subSaharan tongues, has led to formulation of a hypothetical linguistic group with different
and coverging strands. Berber is a part of this network, which the French school
(represented by Marcel Cohen since 1930) calls Chamito-Semitic, the American linguists
name Afro-Asiatic (after Greenberg), and the Russian linguists refer to as Afrasian. This
theory, supported by a number of researchers, posits that Berber is a cousin of the Semitic
(which includes Arabic and Hebrew), Egyptian, and Cushitic languages, and, at least
partly, of the Chadic language.
However, by emphasizing the similarities with the Semitic subfamily, the Eastern
origins of Berber and the Berber-speaking peoples has perhaps been exaggerated. In
effect, much work remains to be done on the substrata of Berber, in which reside
elements even more archaic than Chamito-Semitic structures. This problem is similar to
that of a Libyco-Berber script, of unknown origin, geometric in nature (comprised of
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circles, triangles, crosses, and lines) and observing only consonants, as attested to on
archaic engravings (still undated) and on monument inscriptions from the Punic and
Roman periods. To date, only a few words can be deciphered, thanks to comparisons to
contemporary spoken Berber. The Tuaregs, who still use an alphabet of the same type, do
not know how to decipher these ancient inscriptions. Several rather adventurous
interpretations have only complicated the matter. Furthermore, the toponyms and
anthroponyms transcribed by Greek, Latin, and Arab historians remain the most obscure.
There is, therefore, much research yet to be done in this area.
Folklore
An abundant bibliography on Berber folklore exists. One of the first researchers (1829),
the American consul to Algiers, W.B. Hodgson, published several studies on Berber lore
and bequeathed written data to the National Library of Paris: five songs and six tales, all
unedited and probably from Kabylie. But it was only about 1850 that the collection of
Berber documents on language, customs, social organization, and verbal arts of
Berberspeakers began in earnest. The first motivation was political. The conquest of
Algeria in 1830, and of Morocco around 1910, and then the settling in of civil servants
forced the French government to get to know the populations to be won, restrained, and
administered. Army officers, civil servants, and then university researchers began to
increase research. In 1860, an army general published the first Tuareg grammar.
Descriptions of the language, the first objective in communication, often contained tales,
poems, and notes on customs. In addition, until the liberation of the states of the Maghrib
and of Saharan Africa (1956–1962), it was typically clerics like the White Fathers or the
Brothers or Sisters of Jesus, descendants of Father de Foucauld, and civil administrators
or educators (often Berbers themselves) who were close observers of the terrain, often at
the heart of village activities, who left a mass of field notes, some of which has been
edited. Travel narratives also constitute a source of information. Universities and other
institutions have likewise provided research support and have published reviews such as
Revue Africaine (Algeria), Hesperis (Morocco), and IBLA (Tunisia).
Around 1950, a new generation of researchers, ethnologists, and sociologists, who
were preoccupied above all with analyzing the complex social structures of Berber
groups (such as kinship, the mechanics of opposition and alliance among family and
tribal clans, the role of Islam in the older organizations, and the role of the individual),
began questioning the validity of fieldwork and that of unconscious presuppositions, all
the while not only exploiting results of previous inquiry but also collecting new
documents.
Documents based on observation yield information pertaining to facts and to objects:
agricultural tools, agrarian practices and rituals (which follow a solar calendar, not the
lunar Islamic calendar), such as the start of working the fields, the control of rain, the
construction of dwellings, villages, tents, and camps, with their internal and external rules
of disposition. They also include information on rites connected to harvests, family
celebrations (marriages and births), religious celebrations (Quranic traditions and the cult
of saints and pilgrimages). Researchers also studied architecture and the decorative arts,
notably the importance accorded to geometric motifs, often archaic, placed on pottery,
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furnishing, weaving, tattooing, and jewelry in societies where Islam does not permit
representation of the human figure.
The spoken word is an important component of these investigations. A still living oral
tradition has allowed for a compilation of numerous collections of texts for more than a
century (with recordings for the last few decades), whether it be of tales, hagiographic
legends, riddles, proverbs, or poems. Songs have been recorded, and the music has been
studied by several musicologists. This Islamization of texts is strong, but there remain
important fragments of archaic myths. Poems are an integral part of agrarian and
marriage rituals. Emigration has partially conserved marriage chants that survive in
villages or in nomadic groups along with other ritual chants. Radio and television
accelerate the rate of change, which varies according to the region. Manuscripts have also
been preserved, with some containing texts of religious treaties, hagiographic legends,
and fables that go back to the thirteenth century. There are, likewise, important traces of
Berber folklore in the novels and poems written mainly in French by contemporary
Berber-speaking authors.
References
Boogert, Nico van den. 1997. The Berber Literary Tradition of the Sous, with an edition and
translation of The Ocean of Tears by Muhammad Awzai (d. 1749). Leiden: Nederlands Instituut
voor het Nabije Oosten.
Bougchiche, Lamara. 1997. Langues et littératures berbères des origines à nos jours. Bibliographie
Internationale et systématique. Paris: Ibis Press.
Bynon, James. 1944/1947. Riddle Telling among the Berbers of Central Morocco. In African
Language Studies. London: The School of Oriental and African Studies, 7:80–104; 8:168–97.
Galand, Lionel. 1988. Le berbère. In Les langues dans le monde ancien et moderne. Paris: Editions
du Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, vol. 3, pp. 207–42; 303–06.
Harries, Jeanette. 1974. Tamazight basic course. Aït Mgild dialect. Madison: University of
Wisconsin.
Westermarck, Edward Alexander. 1926. Ritual and Belief in Morocco. London: Macmillian.
PAULETTE GALAND-PERNET
See also Maghrib: Algeria; Maghrib: North Western Africa
MAKONDE
See Myths: Myths of Origin and Sculpture: The Makonde; Tourism and Tourist
Arts
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MALAGASY
See Cardinal Directions; Indian Ocean Islands; Malagasy Folklore and Its Study
MALAGASY FOLKLORE AND ITS
STUDY
Malagasy folklore is the product of a line of social relationships that span two and a half
centuries and three continents. Fashioned by English, French, and Norwegian
missionaries, agents of France’s colonial projects, folklorists, ethnologists, and
anthropologists, and actors from across the island of Madagascar, Malagasy folklore has
in turn shaped the nature of all these groups. In exploring the productivity of Malagasy
folklore discourses, it is useful to distinguish the dominant “Western” conception of
folklore from what in standard Malagasy is called vakoka-sy-fomban-drazana. This latter
notion refers to cultural forms and practices marked as traditional and performed and
interpreted through such generic frameworks (again, in standard Malagasy) as fitenindrazana, or “words of the ancestors”—ohabolana (proverbs), angano (folktales and
fables), ankamantatra (riddles), kabary (oratory), tantara (historical narratives believed
to be either fact or fiction), and hainteny (courting poems, “art of the word”); and
fomban-drazana, or “customs of the ancestors”—hiragasy (folksongs), dihy (dances),
fanandrona (divination), famadihana, famorana, tao volo, (secondary burial,
circumcision, and first haircutting rituals respectively) and so on. While vakoka-syfomban-drazana imbibe a sociality associated with a set of highly valued links between
ancestors, their descendants, and land, folklore, as a discourse specific to Western
modernity, has, until recently, been an uncritical, romantic reaction to capitalism’s
transformation of such ties between people and places. Discourses on Malagasy folklore
involve a complex dialogue between both traditions, along with answers to specific
demands issued by the church, the colony, and the nation-state.
The London Missionary Society
Malagasy folkloristics first emerged as an organized and sustained endeavor in the mid
1800s as part of the work of the London Missionary Society (LMS). Arriving in
Madagascar in 1818, it was a relatively short time before LMS members founded the
Malagasy Folklore Society in 1877, established a forum for the publication of folklore
and ethnological writings in the form of the Antananarivo Annual (1875–1900), and
published a series of important folklore texts (Cousins 1873, Cousins and Parrett 1871,
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Sibree and Richardson 1886). The construction of Malagasy folklore by LMS members
was a remarkably complex and contradictory process. Simultaneously, folklore
represented a crucial front in an intense evangelical effort and an integral part of a
comprehensive, quasi-scientific discourse on Madagascar and the Malagasy that was
inspired by develop-ments in the natural sciences, historical linguistics, and the budding
cultural anthropology championed by Edward Tylor. Typical of the period, James
Sibree’s (1880) text, The Great African Island (Sibree was the founder and editor of the
Antannanarivo Annual), includes chapters on Madagascar’s geology, geography, flora,
fauna, and “tribes”—their languages, customs, and “folklore.” Folklore, for Sibree,
consisted primarily of oral literature, “superstitious beliefs,” and charms. Customs, on the
other hand, under which heading was included material life and “religious beliefs,” were
understood to be a concern of ethnology.
Perhaps the most interesting feature of Sibree’s account, and symptomatic of a
contradiction plaguing the work of many of the British missionaries, was the distinction
drawn between religious and superstitious beliefs. For the missionaries, Malagasy
religious beliefs tied their holders firmly to ancestors rather than God and led to a number
of abhorrent practices such as polygamy (an offence which led the great proverb collector
William Cousins to expel one of his prize native congregationists). Folklore, on the other
hand, was seen as an ambivalent and intermediary realm: superstitious beliefs did not
exert such a strong grasp on their subjects, and could thus lead to or away from god, and
verbal art (notably proverbs, hainteny, and folktales) evidenced a “primitive” Malagasy
monotheism. Although such folklore forms were seen by LMS members as providing a
path out of fetishism and idolatry in both their content and performance (proverbs and
aphorisms were often employed to enliven what many Malagasy saw as dull and artless
sermons), they were interpreted by the Malagasy as “ancestral words” and, as such,
steeped in traditional authority. The English missionaries were never able to resolve this
contradiction.
For a majority of their tenure in Madagascar, the LMS missionaries worked
exclusively with the Merina people of the island’s high plateau. Insights regarding
Merina culture and character were, as a rule, generalized to the rest of the Malagasy
population. However, this generalization process was accompanied by two LMS
activities that helped articulate the differences between the people of Madagascar. First,
LMS members worked closely with the Merina royal courts of King Radama I (1810–
1828), King Radama II (1861–1863), Queen Rasoherina (1863–1868), Queen
Rananvalona II (1868–1883), and Queen Ranavalona III (1883–1897). From such
Anglo/Merina cooperation followed the construction of a variety of schools across the
Imerina countryside, the setting of the Malagasy language to Latin script in 1823, the
translation and publication of the Bible, and the baptism, in 1869, of Ranavalona II and
her husband, Prime Minister Rainilaiarivony. In short, a Christian Merina elite, literate
and skilled in the “industrial arts,” was now taking shape (Raison-Jourde 1991). Second,
facing a growing competition for converts from Lutheran, Catholic, and Anglican
newcomers to the island, the LMS missionaries began extending their operations to the
Betsileo people in the south as early as 1862 and to the Betsimisaraka and Sinhanaka
peoples to the east in the mid 1870s. The missionaries wasted no time in describing and
interpreting the cultural life of these peoples and were therefore instrumental in creating
and reproducing distinctions not only between a Merina elite and the Merina people more
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generally, but also between these and the island’s other groups whom the Merina had
conquered by the end of the nineteenth century.
The Colonial Period
Accompanying the emergence of Madagascar’s Christian Merina elite was a rapidly
expanding market for Western goods. By 1896, the year Madagascar officially became a
colony of France, this market had become the point of articulation to the imperial
economy. Seeking to further expand its field of opportunities, French administrators
approached the island (especially its fertile coastal regions) as a “colony of exploitation”
rather than one of settlement, and thus looked to indigenous recruits to help forge a
Malagasy labor force (Jacquier 1904). Fresh from his colonial experiences in Indochina,
Governor-General Joseph Gallieni implemented a two-fold strategy for rule in
Madagascar: a politique des races, designed to place the burden of carrying out colonial
directives on the shoulder of the indigenous leaders of the island’s different groups, was
wedded to a concerted effort to undercut Merina domination. Provincial oversight
authority was now given to lineage chiefs and a March 2, 1902, decree legislated the
village council (fokonolona) as the locus of tax collection and the recruitment of forced
labor. These “interior protectorates” failed, however, to attain their desired objective, for
a majority of their literate functionaries were Merina living away from their ancestral
lands (tanindrazana). From the dismantling of the protectorates in January of 1926 to the
end of colonization in 1960, the French experimented with a variety of means to control
the movement of the Malagasy people and the object of their labor.
French folklore research throughout the colonial period was intimately tied to these
changing imperial goals. In February of 1902, Gallieni established the Academi
Malgache, an institution whose stated purpose was to “study the Malagasy language and
the problems attached to it” (cited in Rabenoro 1982, xvii). The Bulletin de l’Academie
Malgache quickly became an important publication venue for folklorists. In the pages of
the Bulletin, and in independently published texts, for example, folktale collections by
such authors as Birkeli (1922–1923), Dandouau (1922), Deschamps (1939), Dubois
(1938), and Faublee (1947), explored the “mentality” of the Sakalava, Tsimihety,
Antaisaka, Betsileo, and Bara “tribes” respectively. As the colonial period wore on,
French folklore and ethnology increasingly turned to Malagasy beliefs and customs
surrounding death and ancestors (Decary 1962, Berthier 1933). Gillian Feeley-Harnik
(1991) has advanced the convincing thesis that an overarching concern with ancestors,
widely believed to be a long-standing feature of Malagasy culture, is in fact a relatively
recent development, the emergent effect of struggles over labor and loyalty that began
with the expansion of the Merina kingdom and evolved through the colonial period into
the present.
Nationalist Movements
Gallieni’s politique des races had the unintended consequences of better positioning elite
Merina within existing governmental structures, a consequence that led in turn to a
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redoubling of the colonial effort to define the divisions between the island’s people.
Understanding France’s strategy in terms of tribalism—that is, as a “weapon used…to
hinder the coming together of the popular masses” (Esoavelamandroso 1989, 265)—a
Malagasy nationalist movement emerged that, among other things, looked to folklore to
imagine a Malagasy community. Among the im-portant nationalist groups to appear
during this period were the Iron Stone Network (Vy, Vato, Sakelika)—an organization
that had evolved from associations established years earlier among leaders of
Madagascar’s Young Men’s Christian Association—and the Democratic Movement for
Malagasy Renovation (MDRM), a party co-founded by the important poet from the
Besimisarka region, Jacques Rabemananjara.
In his plays Agape des dieux tritriva (1962) and Les boutriers de l’aurore (1957),
Rabemananjara masterfully adapted Malagasy folktales to the stage, a practice
established by his older friend and colleague, the popular Malagasy poet Jean-Joseph
Rabearivelo. Rabearivelo, a tragic figure who ended his own life at the young age of 36,
also worked creatively with and within the hainteny tradition (1967, 1990). Other
Malagasy artists who turned to folklore to stress the unity of the island’s people included
Ny Avana Ramanantoanina (1992) and Flavien Ranaivo (1949). Many of these writers
worked critically with the Malagasy concepts of embona and hanina, notions that
resemble the Western concepts of nostalgia and longing, and which were employed to
affect a return to pre-European, Malagasy values (see Rajaobelina 1948). Finally, those
Malagasy folklorists working within the nationalist, anticolonial context included
Maurice Rasamuel (1950), Dama Ntsoha (1953) (both of whom carried out extensive
research on proverbs), H. Randzavola (1931), and Ravelojaona (1937).
Seeking to undermine the growing nationalist sentiment, French authorities argued
that such groups as the MDRM actually concealed a movement, on the part of the Merina
elite, to return to precolonial forms of domination. In the summer of 1946, the French
orchestrated the creation of the Party of the Disinherited of Madagascar (PADESM). The
French term desherites was widely understood at the time to refer specifically to the
island’s non-Merina population, and the party was, above all else, a political arm of
France’s guerre tribal (“tribal war”). Today, a lively debate exploring the links between
French involvement with PADESM (and the party’s more recent political descendants)
and the poverty and turmoil of contemporary Madagascar is taking place on the World
Wide Web rages on.
Contemporary Scholarship
Since the end of the colonial period, discourses on Malagasy folklore have continued to
be instrumental in creating and reproducing divisions and unities among the people of
Madagascar. These discourses, however, have grown increasingly reflexive and complex,
as scholars from Madagascar and abroad turn their attention to issues of social change
and relations of domination and subordination. A few examples will suffice to illustrate
this trend. Working at the formal and thematic levels with a variety of texts coconstructed by performers and collectors in the central highlands, Paul Ottino (1966) has
proposed that Madagascar represents the westernmost pole of a Malayo- Polynesian
culture whose characteristic “tendency” toward semantic equivocality and ambiguity
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emerges fully in the complex metaphorical work and generic allusions of the hainteny.
Regarding the function of Malagasy verbal artistry, Ottino believes that by mythologizing
ruling class ideologies, oral narratives have served to smooth over the contradictions
between kinship and hierarchy attending the emergence of the Merina state (Ottino
1991).
The links between verbal artistry and the contradictions of state formation in
Madagascar also concern the preeminent Malagasy student of hainteny and proverbs,
Bakoly DomenichininiRamiaramanana, who argues that the former genre emerged,
rather, to mediate such tensions. The American folklorist Lee Haring has pushed Ottino’s
work forward in a number of important directions. Firmly rooted in the intertextual study
of Malagasy narrative (his Malagasy Tale Index [1982] is by far the finest in the genre),
Haring is well positioned to argue that a “generative binary principle,” operative in both
Western Indian Ocean and Malagasy verbal art, has enabled performers and audiences in
Madagascar to explore novel interpretive frameworks in resistance to hegemonic
mythologies (1992).
Contemporary Current Scholarship
Distinct from Ottino and Haring’s efforts to define the nature of a broad Western Indian
Ocean cultural complex, scholars such as Philippe Beaujard and Lucien X. MichelAndrianarahinjaka have instead focused on contextualizing the expressive behavior of
Madagascar’s Tanala and Betsileo peoples. Beaujard’s (1991) analysis of some 250
tantara suggests that, thematically, the historical narratives provide a charter coherence
to the constitutive division in Tanala society separating a latecoming “noble” class with
ties to Islam from a more original group of “commoners” (tompon-tany, or “masters of
the land”). In an earlier work, Beaujard argued that in fighting the erosion of their
primary values brought about by the state’s reform of the village council structure in the
1970s, many Tanala communities turned to funerals and the ceremonial construction of
the lineage chief’s house (the tranobe), both rituals “wherein the affirmation of ancient
values is exacerbated” (1983, 407). In his monumental effort, The Betsieo Literary
System (1986), Michel-Andrianarahinjaka approaches Betsileo oral literature as a
complex semiological system and painstakingly defines the contours of its hierarchically
related genres. Formerly the president of Madagascar’s National Assembly, MichelAdrianarahinjaka’s efforts in writing the text and in deciding to publish it in the Betsileo
capital of Fianarantsoa represents an attempt to thrust Betsileo artistry upon a national
stage.
Finally, a number of studies building upon the ethnography of speaking and
performance traditions explore the problem of social change. Elinor Ochs Keenan (1973)
examines how highland Vakinankaratra participants of bride price oratories manipulate
the gendered participant frameworks and other structural features of the genre to bridge
intracultural differences resulting from French colonialism. More recently, in his analysis
of discourses on need that link international conservation and development actors
associated with the Ranomanafama National Park and area Tanala communities, Hanson
(2000) demonstrates how the form/function relations specific to oral historical, oratorical,
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and ritual performances help mediate the contradictions attending the rapid expansion of
agrarian capitalism in the region.
As Madagascar’s relative insularity gives way to a variety of global horizons,
Malagasy folklore is increasingly entering the realm of public culture. Many Malagasy,
for example, living in the United States, France, and Japan, have established
organizations that, with the help of folklore performances, allow them to define and
celebrate their national and group identities (one example is the Washington D.C.-based
Madagascar Cultural Alliance). Folklore is also proving to be an important part of
Madagascar’s rapidly developing ecological tourism industry. Ownership of and access
rights to the four and a half million hectares of land now enclosed by close to forty
protected areas is currently a highly contested issue. A surprising feature of this ongoing
struggle over labor and land is that the folklore forms of many of the Malagasy groups
living beside the enclosures have simultaneously served the interests of the groups
themselves and the protected area planners (Hanson 1997). As the two preceding
examples suggest, exciting directions do exist for the study of Malagasy folklore.
References
Beaujard, Philippe. 1983. Princes et pay sans: les tanala de l’kongo. Paris: Editions L’Harmattan.
——. 1991. My the et societe a Madagascar: le chasseur d’oiseaux et al princesse du ciel. Paris:
Editions L’Harmattan.
Birkeli, Emile. 1922–1923. Folklore sakalava recueilli dans la region de Morondava. Bulletin de
l’Academie Malgache 6.
Berthier, Hugues. 1933. Notes et impressions sure les moeurs et coutumes du peuple magache.
Antananarivo: Imprimerie Officelle.
Cousins, William. 1873. Malagasy Kabary from the time of Andrianampoinimerina. Antananarivo:
Press of the London Missionary Society.
Cousins, William, and J. Parrett. 1871. Malagasy Proverbs. Antananarivo. LMS Press.
Dama-Ntsoha. 1953. La technique de la conception de la vie chez les malgaches revelee par leurs
proverbes. Tananarive: Masoandro.
Dandouau, Andre. 1922. Contes populaires des sakalava et des tsimihety de la region d’Analalava.
Publications de la Faculte des Lettres d’Alger; Bulletin de Correspondance Africaine, 58. Alger:
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Decary, Raymond. 1962. La mort et les coutumes funeraires a Madagascar. Paris: G.P.
Maisonneurve et Larose.
Deschamps, Hubert. Folklore antaisaka. 1939. Bulletin de l’Academie Malgache 22:113–29.
Domenichini-Ramiaramanana, Bakoly. 1983. Du ohabolana au hainteny: langue, litterature, et
politique a Madagascar. Paris: Karthala.
Dubois, Henri. Monographie des Betsileo. 1938. Paris: Institut d’Ethnographie.
Esoavelomandroso, Manasse. 1989. Une arme de domination: le “tribalisme” a Madagascar. In Les
ethnies ont une histoire, pp. 259–65. Eds. Jean-Pierre Chretien and Gerard Prunier. Paris:
Karthala.
Faublee, Jacques. 1947. Recits Bara. Paris: Institut d’Ethnographie.
Feeley-Harnik, Gillian. 1991. A Green Estate: Restoring Independence in Madagascar.
Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press.
Hanson, Paul. 1997. The Politics of Need Interpretation in Madagascar’s Ranomafana National
Park. Ph.D. Dissertation, The University of Pennsylvania.
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——2000. Women in Action, Councils in Change: The Productivity of Women’s Speech Styles in
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——. 1992. Verbal Arts in Madagascar: Performance in Historical Perspective. Philadelphia:
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Ambozontany.
Ottino, Paul. 1966. Un precede litteraire malayo-polynesien. De ‘ambiguite a la pluri signification.
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——. La mythologie malagache des hautes terres. Le cycle politique des Andriambaoaka. In
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Rabearivelo, Jean-Joseph. Vieilles chansons des pays d’Imerina. Tananarive: Editions Madprint,
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——. Poemes. 1990. Paris: Editions Hatier.
Ravemananjara, Jacques. 1957. Les Boutriers de l’aurore. Paris: Editions Presence Africaine.
——. Agapes des Dieux Tritriva. 1962. Paris: Editions Presence Africaine.
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Ramanantaonina, Ny Avana. 1992. Anthologie. Antananarivo: Imprimerie Nationale.
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Karthala.
Rajaobelina, Prosper. Nostalgic dans la poesie malgache. Revue de Madagascar 3 (1948) 67–75.
Ranaivo, Flavien. Les hain-teny. 1949. La revue de Madagascar 7, 55–81.
Randzavola, H. 1931. Fomba malagasy (Work originally be W.E. Cousins with renovation and
augmentation by Randzavola). Antananarivo: Imp. LMS.
Rasamuel, Maurice. 1950 Ny fitenin-drazana. Tananarie: Ny Antsiva.
Ravelojaona, B. 1937. Firaketana ny fiteny sy ny zavatra malagasy. Antananarivo: Fianinana.
Sibree, James. 1880. The Great African Island: Chapters on Madagascar. London: Trubner.
Sibree, James & Richardson, J. Folk-tales and Folk-lore of Madagascar. Antananarivo: LMS
Press, 1886.
Zaikabe. 1998. http://www.http://home.cwnet.com/zaikabe.
PAUL W. HANSON
See also French Study of African Folklore; Government Policies toward
Folklore; Myths
MALAWI
Located in southern Africa, Malawi is a small subtropical country of some 10.98 million
people. The landlocked country is surrounded by Tanzania, Mozambique, Zimbabwe, and
Zambia. Lilongwe, Malawi’s capital city, is home to 268,000 people. The population is
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predominantly Chewa, which accounts for 90 percent of the country’s ethnic groups. The
remaining 10 percent consist of Nyanja, Lomwe, and other Bantu-speaking groups.
Chichewa, English, Nyanja, Yao, Sena, and Tumbuka are the most commonly spoken
languages in Malawi. Three-fourths of the population is Christian, 20 percent is Muslim,
and 5 percent practices traditional indigenous religions.
First called the British Protectorate of Nyasaland in 1841, the country has always been
linked to Zimbabwe (formerly, Southern Rhodesia) and Zambia (formerly, Northern
Rhodesia). On July 6, 1964, Malawi gained its independence from Britain and succeeded
in forming its own one-party dictatorship. After several years of political unrest under
this very repressive regime, Malawi held its first multiparty elections in May of 1994 and
subsequently became a multiparty democracy. Since independence, Malawi has had a
relatively stable economy, largely due to its production and exportation of agricultural
products such as tobacco, tea, sugar, and cotton. Due to the poor distribution of land,
however, most of Malawi’s rural population has not reaped any of the benefits of the
economy, as successful agricultural production has largely been the product of the
country’s large plantations and not the small landholders. Since 1981, the Malawian
government has increased incentives to small landholders. The rural population, however,
is still largely impoverished. Although adult literacy is only 56 percent, there is a good
school system. As of 2003, more than 2 million people are infected with HIV/AIDS in
Malawi, 60% of whom are women. This epidemic has lowered average life expectancy to
37 years.
JENNIFER JOYCE
MALI (REPUBLIC OF MALI)
Located in western Africa, Mali is an arid, landlocked country surrounded by Algeria,
Niger, Burkina Faso, Cote D’Ivoire, Guinea, Senegal, and Mauritania. Mali has a
population of nearly 12.5 million. Bamako, the country’s capital and largest city, is home
to 894,000 people. Half of all Malians are Mande, 17 percent are Peul, 12 percent are
Voltaic, 6 percent are Songhai, 10 percent are Tuareg and Moor, and 5 percent are made
up of various smaller ethnic groups. Mali’s official language is French; however,
Bamanakan, Mandinka, Voltaic, Tamacheg, Dogon, Fulde, Songhai, and Malinke are
also widely spoken. The population is 90 percent Muslim, 9 percent practice traditional
indigenous religions, and the remaining 1 percent is Christian.
Beginning in 1100 CE and lasting until the eighteenth century, the great Mali empire
extended over much of West Africa. Sundiata Keita, the founder of the empire, is
internationally recognized because the epics of his life are still performed, and several
versions have been written down and published. His story is well known throughout the
country and is a great source of national pride. By the late 1400s, the Songhai empire
gained control over the region and reigned until the late 1500s. At the height of the
empire, some of the greatest centers of learning, religion, and the arts, such as Jenne,
Gao, and Timbuktu, flourished. In 1890, Mali was colonized by the French.
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On September 22, 1960, Mali gained its independence from France and became a oneparty republic committed to state socialism. In 1992 the country’s first multiparty
elections since independence were held, thereby ending the previous authoritarian
political regime. Taureg insurgents have caused disruptions for the last few decades;
since 1992, there has been a special administrative unit for them. These are the famous
Blue Men, so-called because of their heavily dyed indigo robes, who still manage
caravans crossing the Sahara.
One of the poorest countries in world, Mali has been plagued by a weak economy.
Agricultural production has been hampered by drought, desertification, and locust
infestation. Consequently, the country has not been successful in producing enough food
for its population and has had to rely on interna tional food donations and importation.
The economy has had a recent boost, however, due to the growth of mining industries
that export gold, marble, uranium, and phosphates.
Mali is internationally recognized for its great cultural diversity in which local Kora
music, puppet theaters, elaborate carvings, and the songs of epic praise poems have
developed and flourished. Thousands of tourists each year visit the museums, historical
sites, and mosques of Bamako, Jenne, Gao, and Timbuktu. Malian musicians and singers,
such as the Super Rail Band, Salif Keita, Ali Farka Toure, and Habib Koite have become
some of the best known African performers in the United States and Europe.
PHILIP M.PEEK
MALINKE
See Epics
MAMI WATA IN CENTRAL AFRICA
Mami Wata, a spiritual entity, whose images and representations are widespread in
Africa, continues to be the source of many popular practices and knowledge. She has
been the object of much academic preoccupation for about thirty years (Fabian 1978,
315–34; Drewal 1988, 160–85), and constitutes a nexus where power relations,
knowledge, and social and cultural stakes express themselves with all their contradictions
in contemporary society. She also expresses the presence of a complex social imagery
with a multitude of meanings. In Central Africa, more than in West Africa, her names in
local languages demand the search for deeper meanings in the history and the culture of
Congo River societies where Mami Wata is the fruit and the expression of ceaseless
cultural transfers. This process is due to the contact between local societies themselves,
and between them and Christian foreigners engaged in the sea trade from the fifteenth to
the nineteenth centuries (MacGaffey 1982; Thornton 1996). In other respects, this
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labored cultural crossbreeding, which went on under colonization and imposed the
modern state and its problems, then experienced the postcolonial society and its crises.
This historical aspect ended up by allotting Mami Wata her real meaning and autonomy
as social practice in a global society.
Etymology
Mami Wata, lexically derives from the English “mother of water” or “grand-mother of
water” in the Agni language from Cote d’Ivoire. She is the water spirit of West Africa
whose traces are also found in Surinam and in the Caribbean. In Nigeria, among some
Igbo peoples, she represents Ogbwide, the female deity and spouse of the deity Urashi,
the two, a divine couple living in the Oguta River. During the religious ceremonies in her
honor, her followers offer her sacrifices, sing, dance, eat, and drink. The possession and
the trance that Mami Wata causes reproduce, as well, the life cycle of the deity as they
display her presence among living beings. The processions of disciples on the river often
crown an initiation process leading to the mastery of her knowledge and its therapeutic
power (Jell-Bahlsen 1991). Mami Wata is recognized in various forms all along the
Guinea Coast as well as in certain Sahel areas where there are significant lakes and rivers.
Her altars such as those in Ouidah, Dahomey, or in Accra, Ghana, are splendidly
decorated, and highlight the serpent, her symbol. These shrines attract many visitors,
researchers, and tourists.
Links with Immigration and Urbanism
In Central Africa, her many names and her current representations are also linked to the
double phenomenon of immigration of West African workers and of the birth of
contemporary urbanity during the colonial period. These two phenomena favored an
intensive religious acculturation between the West African religions and those of the
center of Africa through Mami Wata. In this process of surrender and acquisition, Mami
Wata underwent changes linked to concomitant modernization of Central Africa
countries and acquired new meanings when she simultaneously adjusted to the cultures
and the imaginary of the Congo River and its numerous tributaries. She was grafted to
Nzondo, or Ndjonibo, the deity of the river who preceeded her. Nzondo, mentioned for
the first time in the Kongo Kingdom by Cavazzi in the sixteenth century (Ceyssens 1975,
534–35), is a one-eyed fish from the Congo River that is identified with the mythical
serpent producer of the rainbow. In the twentieth century Nzondo identifies itself with the
protopterus, the flying fish. In the middle of the Congolese forest, called Nsembe, it
easily reaches more than 6 feet. More expressively than the Kongo people from the
mouth of the Congo River, the Mongo and the Luba peoples describe this spirit as being
woman and fish at the same time, thus placing her within worldwide mythology, as a
mermaid or siren figure. She has teats, flies through the air, and enjoys palm nuts. As
soon as a person catches sight of her in a palm tree, she quickly dives again into the
water. As a fish she attacks and tears to shreds other small animals and becomes a
cannibal when attacked. She causes the death of any incautious person who surprises her
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“sleeping” when she hibernates wrapped in her cocoon within a vase. Then she punishes
the offender with fonoli, a deadly madness. That person disappears into the forest where
he or she rambles until overcome by death (Biaya 1988, 104, 118).
Even after having fallen from grace, this divine spirit has kept all the divine power and
the rank of an elder among God’s creatures. In Lokele society, Nsembe introduced
copper as a dowry value. In Sudanese societies located between Ubangui and Congo
Rivers, Mami Wata is Lufulakari, an ogre-spirit who swallows ships and urban migrant
workers from this region. Her main characteristic is the ability to change shapes. She
especially possesses women, whom she makes childless. The treatment expels Mami
Wata from the body of the sick woman by reconciling the woman with the spirit, and it
rearticulates the patient’s psyche with the sacred aggressor, the Ancestor (Sow 1978, 14).
Today, these ways of thought and healing cults, which were initially located in rural
areas, have became urbanized and have borrowed features from Christianity and Islam
(Janzen 1992). In this process, rituals that we see occurring in Kinshasa, Brazzaville, and
Bangui, without deserting their ancient premises, have accepted and integrated the West
African myth of Mami Wata as a seductive water spirit as well as a means of representing
modernity’s conquest. However, this dimension of the seducing spirit and femininity of
Mami Wata that local townspeople added shows the perverse effects of colonial ideology.
As a matter of fact, these newcomers in town had to become modernized by cutting
themselves off from village society and its traditional culture. They longed for the status
of cultural intermediaries of the Belgian or French colonizers that West Africans called
Pupu, Sawa, Sinangale, Bahuza, and so on. These individuals, often Muslims, held
subordinate positions as foremen, postmen, assistants, or were independent traders and
shop owners in the black cities. In this quest for modernity, the local colonized people
would appeal to West Africans to give them charms to get jobs, money, fecundity
charms, or love filters, thereby welcoming Mami Wata.
Portrayals
Mami Wata entered Central Africa from the realm of traditional belief and witchcraft
practices made of secret knowledge and power. In West Africa, she is the object of a
public cult. She borrowed the outlines and contents from local gods. Her metamorphoses
led her to incarnate the metaphor and the paradigm of unusual and individual success.
This social and political success, which is also mastery of modernity, is related to an
exchange pact with a human life, preferably that of a close relative, which, handed over
as due, guarantees an increase in established power or social benefit. It is this
relationship, established between the two contractors, that constitutes the sustaining pillar
of success, or the downfall of the subject that can lead to his/her own death when that
relationship is broken.
Mami Wata’s thirst for fresh blood did not initially have sexual or erotic connotations.
In Central Africa, she is constructed like an androgynous being since her/his lovers are of
both sexes, according to the discourse on witchcraft as the place of strong powers
increasing mythical, pictorial and sung narrations (Fourche and Morlighern 1973;
Kalanda 1993; Tonda 1988, 73–83).
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In other respects, popular artists sing, dance, and picture Mami Wata in her various
aspects, recounting her evolution simultaneously. In popular culture, the Mami Wata icon
is read like a social fresco revealed through a pictorial narration. Her representation as a
woman with a fish tail appeared around the end of colonization; she has been taking on,
year after year, the appearance of a light-skinned siren with long hair and now appears in
modern fashions (jewels, wrist-watch, earrings, and so on) (Jewsiewicki 1991, 130–51).
Mami Wata become a combined reproduction of movie stars and advertisement bill
postings that were newly offered to the urban African public after World War II. Indeed,
often she is resting under the sun on an island or at the river bank. Her representation
fluctuates according to the demands of the market; pictorial narrative follows the trends
and impulses of social and political movements. When the economic and political
situation reaches a crisis stage, Mami Wata reverts to a mythical being. She is painted in
a serpent shape, copulating with a rich, naked female spinster, only to vomit money after
fleshly satisfaction. The revelation of the secret by the human lover of the beautiful
woman is punished by death. This vigorous return to the sacred, and its ascendancy over
social belief as a means of mastering crisis, was restored after this icon underwent
extensive reconsideration in better times, approximately 1974–1981 (Jewsiewicki 1995).
Mami Wata, beneath all the layers of metamorphosis, summarizes the difficulties
faced daily by Central African peoples, both under colonization and in postcolonial
societies, where state violence has become the only visible manifestation of power. She
also denounces the presence of a wealthy elite. Paradoxically, the political bourgeoisie
also has recourse to Mami Wata and her witchcraft practices, through ideologies and
mystic procedures that manipulate the major symbols of ancient and modern political
power to maintain and reinforce their ascendancy over the common people. The example
of presidents Mobutu and Sassou Ngessou, with their political classes calling on Mami
Wata as an image of the sacred, of power, and of access to wealth (Ndaywell 1993)
illustrates the essential ambiguity and ambivalence of Mami Wata, whose infinite use and
interpretations show that she is, above all, a polysemic metaphor and that she is open to
infinite interpretations (Rush 1992, 60). Mami Wata appears as a cultural potentiality,
which Central African societies with oral cultures posses manipulate as they “write” their
history.
References
Bayart, J.F. 1993. The State in Africa. The Politics Belly. London: Longman.
Biaya, T.K. 1988. L’impasse de la crise Zairois dans la peinture urbaine. Canadian Journal of
African Studies, 22, no. 1:95–124.
——. 1990. La peinture populaire comme mode d’action des classes dominees au Zaire, 1960–
1989. Contemporary French Civilization, XIV:334–57.
Ceyssens, R. 1975. Mutumbala, Mythe de l’opprime. Cultures et Developpements 8:3–5, 485–550.
Drewal, H.J. 1988. Performing the Other: Mami Wata Worship in West Africa. The Drama Review
118:160–85.
Fabian J. 1978. Popular culture in Africa: Findings and Conjectures. Africa. 48:315–34.
——. 1996. Remembering the Present. Painting and Popular History in Zaire. Berkeley:
University of California Press.
Fourche J., and H.Morlighem. 1973. Une Bible Noire. Bruxelles: M. Arnold.
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Janzen, J.M. 1992. Ngoma. Discourses of Healing in Central and Southern Africa. Berkeley:
University of California Press.
Jell-Bahlsen, S. 1991. Mami Wata: In Search of the Water Spirit in Nigeria. Film. Berkeley:
University of California. Extension Media Center.
Jewisiewcki, B. 1991. Painting in Zaire. From The Invention of West to Representation of Social
Self. In Africa Explores: Twentieth-Century African Art, ed. S. and I. Ebong. Vogel New York:
Center for African Art.
——. 1995. Cheri Samba. The Hybridity of an Art. Montreal: The AGAA Publication.
Kalanda M. 1993. La revelation Tyakani. Kinshasa: L.A.S.K.
MacGaffey. W. 1982. Modern Kongo Prophets. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Ndaywell, I. 1993. La societe Zairoise dans le miroir son de discours religieux (1990–1993).
Bruxelles: CEDAF Institut africain.
Rush, D. 1992. The Convulsive Beauty of Mami Wata. MA Thesis in Art History, University of
Iowa.
Sow, I. 1978. Psychiatrie dynamique africaine. Paris: Payot.
Tonda, J. 1988. Marx et l’ombre des fetiches d’un pouvoir local centre njobi dans le Nord-Congo.
Politique africaine 31:73–83
Thornton, J.K. 1996. The Kongolese Saint-Antony: D. Beatriz Kimpa Vita, 1684–1706. Cambridge,
U.K.: Cambridge University Press.
T.K.BIAYA
See Also Cosmology; Gender Representation in African Folklore; Government
Policies toward Folklore
MANCALA
Mancala (also Mankala or Manqala) refers to a group of board games in which counters
are distributed in order to make a move. Mancala is frequently encountered in the shape
of a board with rows of holes and a proportionate number of counters. During the game,
the players, usually two or two teams (with rare variations allowing for three or more
parties), take turns in distributing counters around the board. The counters, commonly
seeds, shells, or stones are of equal value and may change ownership during the game. In
most cases, players start with the contents of a hole at their side of the board. In all
Mancala variations, these contents may be distributed one by one in consecutive holes.
The holes may be carved in a board or dug in the sand but are also found as drawn
circles. The configuration of these holes divides Mancala into two main variations. In the
first variation the holes form one circle in which the counters are distributed or spread
around. In most of those examples, the holes will be lined up in two rows, although threerow, circular, and rectangular configurations are also known. In the second variation, the
holes form two separate circles in which the counters are distributed, shaping the board in
four, or even six, rows of holes. Counters often remain in one of the two circles except
when captures are being made.
The object of Mancala is to capture the majority of the counters. In some variations,
one can also win by immobilizing the opponent. Two types of capture can be
distinguished. In one, the capture is made when a specific number of counters, commonly
three or four, is accumulated in one hole. The other type of capture is made when a
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certain position is reached, and, for instance, the contents of neighboring holes are
captured. Captured counters are taken from the game or, as in some four-row games, are
spread back in the rows of the player who captured them.
Both the materials, the boards and counters, and the rules of Mancala have provided
insight into the history of this group of games. Material evidence has so far provided the
earliest evidence of Mancala. Museum collections of predominantly wooden boards date
back to the beginning of the nineteenth century. The data on boards in museum files only
indicate the date they entered the collections and sometimes stipulate the purpose of the
object or the name of the game. They rarely identify the owners, former players, or dates
of making or using the board, which would predate the acquisition of the board by the
museum. If these factors are taken into account, it would date these wooden boards back
to perhaps the late eighteenth century.
The game known as Owela, which is
popular in Namibia, is one of the
largest mancala games and often is
played with two teams. Photo © Alex
de Voogt.
Archaeological evidence suggests that the occasional terracotta and stone Mancala
boards date back to the first centuries CE. In these cases, it is not always clear that the
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objects were used for playing Mancala. Although the precise age of stone boards appears
difficult to determine, it is generally believed that some examples go back to the sixth
century CE or earlier. Boards found in ancient Egypt would predate existing evidence by
a few thousand years. The absence of game rules and the possible confusion with other
Egyptian board games prevent conclusions in this direction. Since Mancala is also played
in the sand, it is not inconceivable that Mancala predates all other existing board games;
evidence to this effect is not available.
Mancala rules have been recorded since the 1650s. Earlier mention of the game in
Arabic sources has given it the name Mancala, derived from the Arabic naqala meaning
“to transfer” or “to move things about.” The written sources do not predate the
archaeological finds, but recent studies of Mancala rules have given insight into the
distribution of Mancala. This distribution has been linked to migration routes, which may
go back several hundred years. Mancala is played in most parts of Africa, the Middle
East, parts of Central, and most of South and South East Asia. The game was introduced
to South America and the Caribbean during the African slave trade. Immigrants have
played the game in Europe and North America, and commercial and souvenir versions
have also reached the Europeans and Americans themselves.
The two-row variation is found in all the above regions of the world. Three-row
versions are known mostly in Ethiopia and four-row in East and Southern Africa with
few exceptions. Hundreds of variations have been described in Africa, a few dozen for
Asia, and only a handful for the Caribbean. Only recently has Asian Mancala received
serious attention, and large parts of the Middle East and Central Asia are poorly
investigated. The thesis that Mancala originated in Africa is largely based on speculation
and limited evidence from Asia.
Among the many descriptions of Mancala rules, specific sets of rules are found to be
similar across large parts of the Asian or African continent. These distribution patterns
follow known migration or trade routes. Rules found in the Caribbean have also been
described for West African games and date back to the African slave trade; the Swahilispeaking people along the East African coast appear to play the same Mancala variation
that is linked to the Swahili trade routes; and rules found in the Philippines are almost
identical to those in parts of Indonesia, Malaysia, and the Maldives, which date back to
contact prior to the thirteenth century.
The Caribbean game of Wari, a two-row Mancala game, and the East African game of
Bao, a four-row Mancala game, are best known for tournaments and players’ clubs. Other
games are played at home by women and children or during particular ceremonies. Such
ceremonies or rituals include weddings, funerals, divination, or ceremonies involving
royalty. In some areas, this means that the game is never played at night, as has been
recorded for the Caribbean. In other areas, the game is played during any festive
occasion, as long as there is time to play. Certain sculptured boards became prestige gifts
for royalty and were never played or intended for play.
The distribution of counters around the board and the distribution of Mancala rules
around the world have been central in Mancala studies. Mancala boards are also part of
art historical studies, which concentrate on the aesthetic qualities of Mancala boards
rather than the distribution or history of Mancala. Sculptured Mancala boards have
played a role as prestige gifts, particularly in West Africa. Plain boards appear to gain
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476
aesthetic value when intensive play smoothens the surface, providing wooden boards
with an attractive shine.
A recent use of Mancala in computer science and psychological studies has augmented
the use of Mancala outside Asia and Africa. The computational aspects of some Mancala
variations puts them in the same league as draughts and certain strategic Asian board
games. The distribution of counters around the board has made Mancala the most volatile
group of board games, compared to games recently programmed by computer scientists.
In psychology, Mancala is used in studies on human memory and problem solving and
also in developmental and educational studies. It appears that the moves particular to
Mancala require cognitive skills that differ from skills studied in players of other board
games.
Mancala is defined primarily by the distribution of counters in consecutive holes.
Simple and complex rules exist for different Mancala variations, but the purpose of the
game, or even the boards, cannot be generalized. Hundreds of variations of rules and
boards have been recorded, while, at the same time, similar rules may be found across the
continents. At present, Mancala is thought to be older than most board games, and
evidence suggests that Mancala has been, and still is, the most widespread group of board
games in the world.
References
Deledicq, A., and A. Popova. 1977. Wari et solo. Le jeu de calcul Africain. Paris: Cedic.
Murray, H.J.R. 1952. A History of Board Games other than Chess. London: Oxford, at the
Clarendon Press.
Townshend, P. 1979. Mankala in Eastern and Southern Africa: A Distributional Analysis. Azania
14:109–38.
Voogt, A.J. de 1997. Mancala Board Games. London: British Museum Press.
Walker, R.A. 1990. Sculptured Mankala Gameboards of Sub-Saharan Africa. Ph.D. dissertation.
Indiana University.
ALEX DE VOOGT
See also Bao; Wari
MANGBETU
See Body Arts, Hair Sculpture
MAQALAT: CONCEPTS OF
FOLKLORE IN THE SUDAN
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The Muslim-Arab Rubatab of northern Sudan identify an array of their discourse genres
as maqalat (singular, maqala). The word maqalat is the passive participle of the verb
yaqul (“to say”). Maqalat are described by the Rubatab as anonymous, traditional, and
orally transmitted artistic or fictitious discourses. Unarguably, these Rubatab criteria are
congruent with these contemporary folklore scholars use in defining the materials of their
discipline. One can therefore argue that maqalat is a folk gloss on the academic idea of
folklore itself (Herzfeld 1983).
Rubatab emphasize the anonymity of maqalat. An informant said a maqala is handed
down and “Ma maqtu’a min al-ras” (lit., “cut from the head,” not created by a known
individual), and its anonymity is defined as the futility of trying to tasinda (attribute
them) to known creators.
To underline the traditional aspect of maqalat, the Rubatab insist that maqalat do not
qualify without having a chain of transmission. They are described as “kalam ba’id aw
tarikh aw qadim” (past, historical, or ancient discourses). An informant even broke down
maqalat to its root, qal (said), and repeated “qal, qal, qal” to emphasize the chain of its
transmission. Telling about one’s firsthand experience, according to an informant, is not a
maqala but a wanasa (casual talk). To clarify the importance of oral transmission, a
literate informant referred to the ’an’ana (chai n of transmissi on) in Pr ophet Muha
mmad’s (his sayings and practices). To verify the authenticity of a hadith, Islamic
scholars would scrutinize its chain of transmission and accept it or dismiss it on the basis
of the character and authority of the men who recorded it for posterity.
With respect to the oral transmission of maqalat, Rubatab emphasize their circulation
as a consequence of people applying them to current situations. Three processes are
mentioned by which these old creations are reproduced in the present: ta’qib (repetition),
jar (dragging one to illuminate a current situation), and dark mathal (to analogize). One
would say “y ’mlat almaqala” (as the maqala said) as a key to applying a maqala to an
emerging situation.
Rubatab are so intrigued by their maqalat that they often engage in discussing their
artistic nature. There is a gender difference in understanding maqalat. Men are inclined to
view maqalat as fictitious and thus doubt their veracity. An informant said the maqala can
be “hasla wa mahasla, mafi zul yaqdar” (“It could have happened and it could have not.
No one can be certain”). Another informant said a maqalat can be truthful, but he did not
feel contradicted when someone else said it could also be false.
The ambiguity of maqalat is revealed in conversations and in Rubatab folktales. One
folktale tells about a young man who could not find a match in any of the village girls
paraded in front of him by a matchmaker, an old woman. In desperation, the old woman
rebuked him saying:
“You will only be married to al-Lu’ayb, I think.”
“And who is this Lu’ayb?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. This is a mere maqala”
“You wouldn’t have mentioned her to me had it been only so.”
The young man cajoled the old woman to reveal the place of al-Lu’ayb. He ultimately
found her after being subjected to severe trials and tribulations.
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However, maqalat become pure fiction in two distinct cases. Huja (folktales), a genre
performed largely by women narrators, is seen by men as a collection of fantasies. Men
describe huja variously as “lies,” “fiction,” “myths,” and “maqalat of old wives, based
solely on lies.” Women are said to “cut huja from their heads.” Women, on the other
hand, are less interested in the ethical implications men have in distinguishing between
truth and lies. Instead, women foreground the mechanics of the genre as stories not
attributable to anyone in particular and handed down from one generation to the next. A
woman narrator said that, as a mother, she found huja handy in ghashghish (lit.,
“deceiving,” “taking one’s mind off something”), as when distracting her children until
supper was ready.
Fiction creeps into maqalat through the embellishment of wordy entertainers. These
entertainers, who pepper casual talk with artistic tendencies, are described as maqalat
tellers, humorists, mimics, and buda’i, that is, “tellers of buda” (“things not known to
people before”). Bud’a are thus defined by a Rubatabi as discourses an entertainer
creates. It is also defined as saying things, largely understood to be humorous, that have
never been said before. However, the buda’i builds a creation on kernels of realities or
occurrences of maqala. The process by which the creation is spun off is called ta’liq
(“comment”) or talhin (“embellishment”). A buda’i is thus defined by Rubatab as one
who makes a short, old story long by embellishment and ornamentation.
Here, for example, is a story told by one al-Sheikh al-Sayim, a buda’i, about a situat
ion in which he embellished a story he had been told so as to produce a totally different
maqala: He lived once for a month or so in a Rubatab hostel in Atbara town in Sudan. For
dessert, after lunch, the cook served bananas every day. Not being particularly fond of
bananas, Al-Sayim refused to take them one day. Asked why, al-Sayim told the story of
the homosexual, the bananas, and the monkey. In the story, the homosexual would invite
boys to his place, give them bananas, and have sexual relations with them in front of his
monkey. One day his date did not show up and, in desperation, he ate some of the
bananas and threw some to the monkey. Revolted, the monkey swung his head, body, and
hands violently and refused to take the bananas.
When asked how he came to learn the story, al-Sayim said he heard it from Salman,
the Rubatab chief. However, in reproducing it in the hostel context, he took only the
frame of Salman’s story and improvised the rest of it. The story he heard was about a
blacksmith, a kid goat, and a monkey. The blacksmith wanted his monkey to learn how to
fan the fire with bellows. To teach it by example, the blacksmith would bring a kid, order
it to fan the fire, and beat it when it failed to do so. The blacksmith did this with the kid
repeatedly and ultimately killed it with a knife when it failed to learn. The “moral” of the
story did not escape the monkey. Asked to work the bellows, the monkey, having learned
the lesson, complied and did well.
It is fair to conclude from this representation of maqalat that Rubatab not only have an
emic name for the material scholars categorize as “folklore,” but also engage with these
materials based on a set of criteria with which a folklorist can comfortably relate.
References
Ibrahim, Abdullahi Ali. 1994. Assaulting with Words: Popular Discourses and the Bridle of
Shari’ah. Evanston: Northwestern University Press.
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Herzfeld, Michael. 1983. An Indigenous Theory of Meaning and Its Elicitation in Performative
Context. Semiotica 34:113–41.
ABDULLAHI ALI IBRAHIM
See also Folktales
MASKS AND MASQUERADES
In the Western popular imagination, masks and masked dances are probably the single
most representative symbol of art making and performance in Africa. The very nature of
African masquerade—encompassing a disguise of the human face, elaborate costuming,
choreography, and musical accompaniment—imbues masquerade performance with
aesthetic power and mystery.
The term mask usually defines the object that hides the human face or head. However,
scholars routinely study the entire ensemble including the mask, the costume, the dance,
and the musical and song accompaniment within its ritual or ceremonial context in order
to fully understand the meanings and intent of the performance.
It is not known when masking was first enacted on the African continent, but rock
engravings and painted decoration at sites in southern Algeria, in Lesotho, and elsewhere
suggest that masquerade is very ancient. For example, at Tassili-N-Ajjer in Southern
Algeria, rock painting suggests that masked performances were enacted by the fourth or
fifth millennia BCE.
Today, masks and masquerades are found in many parts of the sub-Saharan African
continent. In part, this relates to the ancient movement of Bantu peoples, who occupy a
vast region of the continent south of the Sahara Desert. Throughout this region, masks,
their costumes, and other paraphernalia, are made exclusively by men. Even in cultures
where women may actually perform masked dances, such as the Mende of Sierra Leone,
men make the masks (Phillips 1995). This relates in part to the division of labor in Africa,
as men exclusively carve wooden objects. It also relates to the dominant position of
men’s secret societies in the governance structure of many African communities. It is
these societies that often produce masks and sponsor their appearance. Masked
appearances are often an overt assertion of male dominance and authority. Women,
however, may still be important participants in some aspects of the masquerade, even if
they only appear to have a passive role as observers.
Masquerade as Transformation
Many masquerade performances may be thought of as secular, valued solely as sources of
entertainment. More often, however masquerade transforms the masked dancer into a
powerful animated spirit force. As masquerade suppresses human identity, it also
transforms the dancer into a new and often powerful entity that suggests the supernatural
realm. Two entities and realms are often evoked in masked performance. The first are
ancestral spirits, who are thought to return to the temporal world to aid living members of
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the community. The other are localized nature spirits who, like ancestral spirits, demand
respect, but also reward the community with good health, a bountiful harvest, and many
children.
The characters created in these transformations are not arbitrary. They follow the
hierarchy of mask types that have developed within a particular community or culture.
The form and style of the mask and its costume directly relates to the character or
personages that the animated figure is suppose to represent. Masked characterizations are
drawn from a cross-section of human society. They are human and animal, male and
female, benign and dangerous, flamboyant and youthful, or solemn and elderly. They
may represent the respected pillars of the community such as important rulers, warriors,
or other historical figures, or conversely, those that represent human frailties and are
therefore despised or ridiculed, such as prostitutes or drunkards. Mask characterizations
may also represent specific wild or domestic animals, or a combination of both human
and animal characteristics that represent revered ancestral or feared and dangerous nature
spirits. The names given to masks suggest deceased forebears, famous personages, or
animals such as birds, crocodiles, antelopes, or collective spirit forces.
Masquerade Forms, Styles, and Materials
African artisans have employed tremendous ingenuity in their attempts to disguise and
alter the shape, size, and color of the human body. The body’s characteristic movements
and voice are disguised in the desire to create a new animated spirit being.
The basic face covering, so highly prized by museums and collectors, is often made of
wood. It may also be made in part or entirely of more perishable organic material such as
fiber or cloth. Other mask types cover the entire head or even the entire body of the
dancer. The addition of a crest, horns, feathers, or a more elaborate projection to the top
of the mask increases its aesthetic power and clearly helps to identify the particular
character or personages being represented. Often masks are a synthesis of various human
and animal characteristics that are enlarged or reduced to create entirely new and
imaginative kinetic sculpture. Elaborate masquerade costumes and the accessories they
carry further obscure or alter the profile of the human form and help to define the
personage being represented. Stilts, long poles, or other devices may be employed so that
the dancer can increase the height of the figure at will. When performing, the dancer may
abruptly spin, causing the body of the masked figure to expand in size and then suddenly
fall to the ground, suggesting to an observer that the body animating the mask has
suddenly disappeared. For example, masked dancers performing Egungun masquerades
among the Yoruba of western Nigeria are called “miracles” because they can literally
turn their costumes inside out to dramatically change the entire color of the costumes at
will. This is done with such finesse that even after repeated viewing, it continues to
amaze and delight the viewer.
Masks, their costumes, and accessories are fabricated from materials or carry objects
that are associated with, or symbolic of, the temporal or supernatural realms from which
they emanate. For example, masks may carry paraphernalia associated with the forest
world such as bows and arrows, spears, hunting nets, or bells. On the other hand, masks
may wear or display certain leaves, fibers, pigments, quills, bird beaks, feathers, animal
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horns, or teeth that are symbolically associated with ancestral or nature spirits that are
believed to reside in the forest, or in rivers or lakes. Alternately, other masked figures
may carry objects that are chosen for their symbolic power relating to one’s elevated
status in life such as a sword, staff of office, or flywhisk (all objects that are associated
with leadership). The masked figure ngady mwaash, produced by the Kuba of the
Democratic Republic of the Congo, displays high status by carrying a flywhisk and
wearing a decorated vest and several elaborately embroidered textiles (see illustration). In
addition, ngady mwaash displays a beaded triangular hat on top of the head that is only
worn by Kuba female diviners. This further illuminates the status and authority of the
masked figure, as a female diviner derives her source of clairvoyant and healing power
directly from powerful nature spirits called ngesh.
The forms and styles of masked figures describe in visual terms the supernatural
worlds they intend to evoke. They run the stylistic gamut from those that represent
idealized physical beauty and moral authority to characters that represent grotesque,
disfiguring disease, deformity, decay, and even death (Cole 1985). In many African
cultures, there is thought to be a direct link between an individual’s outward physical
beauty and his or her inner moral and spiritual purity. Masquerade figures depicting good
character and moral fortitude usually display the marks of social status, wealth,
achievement, and good health. Conversely, figures that represent human degradation or
disease are dark and often grotesque in appearance and suggest malevolent forces at work
to serve as a warning against antisocial or immoral behavior.
An elder instructing a novice in the
painting of the initiation mask
Kamakengu, Northern Kete initiation
camp, 1981. Photo © David
A.Binkley.
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A ngady mwaash masked dancer
performing at a funeral in the Southern
Bushoong community, 1982. Photo ©
David A.Binkley.
Whatever the personage being represented, the masked dancer performs the
appropriate dance movements, gestures, and sounds that befit the intended
characterization. If the masked figure represents a wild animal or nature spirit, its
performance may be threatening and unpredictable. In so doing, the figure may threaten
onlookers or be beaten back by attendants in an attempt to control its behavior. If the
mask is regarded as uncivilized or a fool, it may talk nonsensically and meander
aimlessly through the community—behavior completely inappropriate for a properly
socialized individual. Masked figures that represent women will often wear false breasts
and clothing appropriate to women. The dance movements may appear nurturing. They
may imitate women’s roles, or mime behavior associated with women, such as preparing
food or nursing a child. Conversely, the dance may be overtly erotic, miming women as
sexually unrestrained and immoral beings.
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Preparation and Performance
Elaborate preparations accompany the appearance of masked dancers. Masquerades
require the skills of many individuals. Since masked dancers often do not appear alone, a
number of masks and costumes must be fabricated or refurbished. Skilled craftsmen
prepare the masks and costumes in a secluded location away from the prying eyes of
nonmembers. Other individuals, including retainers who accompany the dancers
throughout their performances, must also be selected. Retainers are important because
they make certain that the mask and costume of each dancer is secure and remains in
place and that the dancer does not stumble or fall during the performance.
Musical accompaniment is also an important aspect of masquerade. Indeed, drums or
other percussive, stringed, or wind instruments may actually direct the tempo and
duration of the masquerade performance. Several singers, or even an entire choral group,
may also be present during masked performances. But even if singers are not required,
individuals observing the performance may be familiar with praise songs associated with
the masked figure and begin an impromptu song honoring the power of the masked
figure, or during a funeral, extolling the qualities of the deceased and his family.
Depending on the purpose or context, masked dancers circulate throughout the
community, perform on a central dancing area set aside for such purposes, or perform at a
particular home or compound if, for example, a masked performance is required before a
deceased individual can be buried.
The relationship between the masquerade figure and its audience is not spatially
defined by a stage as it is in Western theatrical presentations. During African
masquerade, the audience and the participants may on occasion mingle. For example, a
drummer may leave the performance and be replaced by a member of the audience. Or,
an unmasked member of the masking society may enter the dancing area and mime the
movements of the masked dancer. In this regard, masquerade performance is both fluid
and dynamic. The masked dancers, musicians, and others participating in the
performance follow a loosely choreographed program, obeying the culturally proscribed
rules of presentational style and decorum. Variations often occur that allow for creativity
and innovation. Having seen masks perform on a number of occasions, the audience
attending a masked performance is aware of the range of characters that appear and
vocalizes its praises or criticism regarding the quality of the masked performance.
Competitions between individual dancers, masking societies, or families who own masks
are a vital and dynamic part of African masquerade.
Masquerade may take place during the day or only at night, depending on the nature of
the performance. Often more then one masked dancer may appear on an occasion, each
fulfilling a particular role or function within the masquerade sequence. Masquerade
figures are often arranged into a hierarchy that corresponds to a similar hierarchy of
leadership in the masking society or in the larger community. When several masks
perform on the same occasion, there may be a specific sequence of activities lasting
several days in which masks of a lesser rank or status perform before the final
performance by the senior masquerade figure.
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Masquerade performance often accompanies serious occasions that rally the entire
community into action. These occasions include initiation and funeral rituals or cyclical
occasions such as the onset of the planting season or harvest time. One of the most
frequent occasions for masquerade in west and central Africa is during funeral rituals,
especially to honor deceased members of the masking society. During funeral
performance, masks are regarded as intermediaries between the living members of the
community and those recently departed. Masked dancers honor the memory of the
deceased and conduct the spirit safely to the land of the dead. Among the most elaborate
masked performance are those held in the western Sudan for the Dogon peoples of Mali,
and the Bwa, Bobo, and Nuna peoples of Burkina Faso (Van Beek 1991; Roy 1987).
Masked dancers also appear during initiation rituals in which young men (and
sometimes young women) learn the secret knowledge that allows them to become
participating members of the community. (Binkley 1990; Phillips 1995) In many
communities, membership in a esoteric cult or society is mandatory for all individuals
who have reached the appropriate age. Masked dancers appear to escort the uninitiated
youth to a bush or forest enclosure. On these occasions, masked figures serve as
guardians and, together with the elders, discipline and instruct the youth. They are also
part of the secret lore taught to the youth and help to safeguard their physical and spiritual
well-being. When masked figures perform for women and children in the community,
they express the pride of membership in the society and the prestige of those who have
undergone the rite (Binkley 1987, 1990).
Masks also form part of the prestigious regalia of aristocratic rulers and their families
and appear at festivals or rituals surrounding the splendor of the royal court. Elaborate
masked performances have been documented at the Bamum royal court in the Cameroon
Grassfields and at the capitol of the Kuba kingdom in the Democratic Republic of the
Congo. Among the Kuba, several masks are reported to form part of the ruler’s patrimony
(Geary 1983; Cornet 1982).
Masked figures also perform on a variety of other occasions in sub-Saharan Africa.
Elaborate masking traditions developed among the Bamana of southern Mali. The ciwara
society is primarily concerned with fertility of the fields. Society members hold masked
performances during agricultural rituals to honor a mythic creator who was instrumental
in bringing agriculture to the Bamana (Wooten 2000). Among the Yoruba of western
Nigeria, several masking traditions appear in dramatic presentations of mythic or
historical tales relating to village or clan histories. During Epa performances, masked
dancers remember and honor important chiefs, warriors, or culture heroes, and during
Gelede performances, powerful elder women are called out for special veneration
(Drewal and Pemberton 1989).
Masked dancers also perform on the occasion of festivals associated with political or
religious observances, such as Christmas or New Years Day, or for the tourist trade.
Indeed, because of both external influences and internal change, some African masking
traditions have lost their initial ritual importance and appear now in more secular events
or as entertainment. However, one should not overlook humor as a vital and creative
aspect of African masquerade. During the most somber of ritual occasions, such as during
the funeral of a respected community leader, a satirical masked figure may appear to help
lighten the solemnity of the occasion.
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Regardless of when masked figures appear—whether to help initiate youth, honor the
recently dead, promote agricultural and human fertility, or simply to amuse onlookers—
they express the dominant values of the community. As noted earlier, masquerades are
often sponsored or associated with centers of political and/or spiritual authority in the
community. These include secret or semi-secret societies that require members to have
passed through a period of initiation and instruction. Other masks are owned by certain
important families, lineages, or clans who control their appearance and safeguard the
masks and their paraphernalia when they are not in use. Masquerade ultimately
acknowledges leadership within the community and expresses the value of membership
in the secret society that sanctioned the performance, as well as the aesthetic values of the
entire community who witness this most dramatic of African artistic expressions.
References
Arnoldi, Mary Jo. 1995. Playing with Jime: Art and Performance in Central Mail. Bloomington
Indiana University Press.
Binkley, David. 1987. Avatar of Power: Southern Kuba Masquerade Figures in a Funerary Context.
Africa, 57 (1):75–97.
——. 1990. Masks, Space and Gender in Southern Kuba Initiation Ritual. Iowa Studies in African
Art, vol. III:157–76.
Cole, Herbert M., and Chike C. Aniakor. 1984. Igbo Art: Community and Cosmos. Los Angeles,
Museum of Cultural History, UCLA.
Cornet, Joseph. 1982. Art royal kuba. Milano: Edizioni Sipiel.
Drewal, Henry John, and John Pemberton, III, with Rowland Abiodun. 1989. Yoruba: Nine
Centuries of African Art and Thought. New York: Center for African Art & H.N. Abrams.
Geary, Christraud. 1983. Things of the Palace: A Catalogue of the Bamum Palace Museum in
Foumban (Cameroon). Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag.
Lawal, Babatunde. 1996. The Gelede Spectacle: Art, Gender and Social Harmony in an African
Culture. Seattle: University of Washington Press.
Nunley, John. 1987. Moving with the Face of the Devil: Art and Politics in Urban West Africa.
Urbana: University of Illinois Press.
Phillips, Ruth B. 1995. Representing Woman: Sande Masquerades of the Mende of Sierra Leone,
Los Angeles: UCLA Fowler Museum of Cultural History.
Roy, Christopher D. 1987. Art of the Upper Volta Rivers. Meudon, France: A. et F.Chaffin.
Tonkin, Elizabeth. 1979. “Masks and Power,” Man 14 (2):237–48.
Wooten, Stephen R. 2000. Negotiating Meaning and Identity Through the Bamana Ciwara
Complex. African Arts, 33, no. 2: 18–33, 89–90.
Van Beek, Walter E.A. 1991. Enter the Bush: A Dogon Mask Festival. In Africa Explores:
Twentieth-Century African Art, ed. Susan Mullin Vogel, New York: Center for African Art:
Munich: Prestel-Verlag.
DAVID A.BINKLEY
See also Performance in Africa; Puppetry; Ritual Performance
African folklore
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MASQUERADING BY WOMEN:
EJAGHAM
Ejagham peoples live on both sides of the contemporary Nigeria-Cameroon border in
West Africa in the area surrounding the Cross River. The Ejagham are made up of several
subgroups who share a similar language, similar cultural traditions, and a belief in a
common origin. The Ejagham also have a dual-gendered ritual system in which both men
and women perform masquerades. Ejagham women perform several masked dances that
provide them with numerous possibilities for ritual expression.
Aside from the seemingly unique masquerades of the women’s Sande Society in
Sierra Leone, scholars had at one time believed that women did not perform masquerades
and that masquerades were the sole territory of men. This assumption was based on the
fact that there were few documented cases of women’s masquerades, resulting in part
from the tendency of researchers to focus on male ritual activity. Therefore, until the late
twentieth century, a general understanding of masquerades was shaped by the
characteristics of men’s masking traditions, which tend to use full-body costumes and
masks to conceal the identity of the dancer. As a result of our expanding knowledge
about women’s masquerades, scholars must rethink previous assumptions that were
fueled in part by complex cultural narratives that place restrictions on the ritual activity of
women.
Mythology
In Africa there are many variations of a myth that attempts to explain why women do not
perform masquerades. In these myths, women were the original possessors of
masquerades, but were not capable of controlling them. Thus, men took them for
themselves. While we can not be certain of what actually happened in the distant past,
these myths reflect the fact that gender symbolism and gender restrictions play a
significant role in masquerades. While masks and costumes that conceal the identity of
the wearer have been strictly forbidden to women in many parts of Africa, some women
have developed alternative forms of masquerade.
Classification
In an attempt to classify the characteristics of women’s masquerades, scholars have
emphasized the fact that women do not conceal their identity and rarely use carved
wooden masks. Therefore, scholars have expanded the definition of masquerade to
include face painting, acoustic masks, and other transformative techniques that are used
by women in danced performances. Judith Bettleheim (1998) has suggested that the fact
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that female performers do not completely conceal their identity is a unifying issue for
women’s masquerade and performance, distinguishing them from male masquerades.
However, examples of women’s masquerades among the Ejagham suggest that the
strategies of concealment and revealment cannot be assigned solely to men or women.
The Ejagham have two different types of women’s masquerades; Ekpa masquerades
reveal the dancer’s identity, and Agot masquerades conceal it. However, it is most likely
that the use of masks by women has been a site of controversy between the genders. And,
how women have negotiated this performance strategy is not entirely clear. It may be a
result of the powerful role that women, such as those in the Ekpa association, play in the
ritual life of the Ejagham.
Agot masquerade, Ogomogom village, Bakor-Ejagham Cross River
State, Nigeria. Photo © Amanda Carlson.
Ejagham Ekpa, or Njom-Ekpa (cult of Ekpa), is a women’s association that can
perform masquerades and is known for its ability to provide social purification for the
community, spiritual healing, and insight into the future. For example, if a war is
pending, Ekpa women might communicate with the spirit world in order to predict the
outcome. The community could then plan accordingly. In Ekpa rituals, women’s spiritual
abilities have the potential to both heal and harm, but should be used for the good of the
society or to check the power of male community leaders.
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During festive daytime performances, an Ekpa woman will dance with an elaborately
carved headdress mask that sits on top of her head, fastened with strings, allowing her
face to be seen. The masks may look slightly different from place to place, depending
upon the carver and the stylistic preferences in the region. The main components appear
to be the representation of multiple faces or figures, the use of mirrors, the use of scarves
Ekpa-Nkim masquerade, Efraya village, Etung-Ejagham Ikom, Cross
River State, Nigeria. Photo © Amanda Carlson.
or cloth, and the use of colorful pigments or paints. In a documented case in Cameroon,
the main figure represents a woman with a snake, who is understood in many parts of
Africa and the world as Mami Wata. However, in this case, the figure represents a female
ancestor and the powers associated with her that give Ekpa women their power
(Roschenthaler 1998).
Aside from the masked dances, Ekpa women also perform nighttime displays in which
women sing, dance, and communicate with the spirit realm. Men are forbidden to witness
these events, which may occur on a regular basis or may be called upon because of
special circumstances (such as in the event of a war). On the most serious of occasions,
the women perform completely naked. In this context, the naked female body has a
symbolic power that is associated with female sexuality and reproduction, whose
meanings are deeply rooted in an Ejagham philosophy and worldview.
Among the Bakor-Ejagham, an Ejagham subgroup, based between the towns of Ikom
and Ogoja in Nigeria’s Cross River State, the Ekpa association does not perform a
masked dance. However, the Bakor-Ejagham women do have other masking associations,
such as Agot. These masking associations are social groups that provide women with a
form of entertainment, with camaraderie, and with opportunities for public ritual
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expression. Membership may be linked to an age-grade or it may be open to anyone who
would like to join and is deemed socially respectable.
Agot maskers use carved wooden headdresses and full body costumes (see
photographs). The identity of the dancers is concealed under long cloth robes that cover
the entire body, except for the hands and feet. Cut-out eyeholes allow the dancer to see.
Tied to the top of their heads, each masker wears a carved wooden headdress painted
with glossy enamel paints. The two characters look more or less the same, with variations
in the details of the headdresses and in the type of cloth used to make the costume. One
headdress represents a woman and one represents a man. The female character can be
easily recognized by the fact that she usually carries a white European-looking doll.
Agot refers to the type of masquerade and to the name of the dance group. In some
cases, the names of individual dance groups may be modeled after aspects of daily
experience that are important to Ejagham women, such as beauty, agriculture, and the
market. One group named their dance after fermented cassava, Akpu. Their performance
celebrates the introduction of cassava, which revolutionized women’s ability to feed their
families. These women begin with a pantomimed demonstration that precedes the
entrance of the masked dancers and reenacts women toiling in the fields, discovering a
cassava root, and bringing the food product back to the village, which results in the
prosperity of the community.
As Satirization of Male Behavior
Both the Ekpa and the Agot women’s masquerades comment upon, or satirize, male
behavior. Describing an Ekpa performance in Cameroon, Ute Roschenthaler writes,
[T]he dance group, composed of at least nine women, appears. Some of
them imitate and satirize typical male roles to the delight of the spectators:
two or four “guards” run around carrying swords and machetes to control
the dance floor; the “protocol leader” shakes his rattle; the “hunter’s dog”
searches for prey; the “soldier” points his gun at the audience; the
“policemen” (called “blue bottoms”) frighten with their large rods….
(1999, 45).
In this humorous display, women are making fun of men and the ways in which they
behave. Likewise, Agot masquerades sometimes include songs that critique male
behavior. For example, in 1994 a chorus of Agot women sang:
Life
Emanuel
Emanuel feeds his children
Emanuel feeds his children fat.
Fathers feed your children like Emanuel
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Emanuel feeds his children however from other people’s sweat
Emanuel reaps where he has not sewn
Fathers do not allow your kids to starve
Fathers do not feed your kids like Emanuel
(Translation by Ngoro Agibe)
In this verse, women sing about men’s roles as fathers and their obligation to provide
food for their children. They can even use these songs to voice their opinion about a
particular person in the community. While these performances are for entertainment, they
also offer women an opportunity to articulate their concerns and to form bonds of
solidarity around women’s issues.
History
Masquerades such as Agot probably originated in the twentieth century, but oral history
suggests that women’s masquerades in general have a much longer past. Bakor elders at
the end of the twentieth century remember women’s masquerades that their mothers and
grandmothers had performed, which are no longer danced. The fact that Ejagham women
have been able to acquire masquerades may in part be due to the tradition of women’s
associations and their danced rituals, which have played a significant role among the
Ejagham and in the surrounding region. These associations typically involve women,
who possess the power to heal and to foresee the future. Many of their ritual
performances are characterized by dancing naked in the night and the required exclusion
of men. There are several instances, such as in the Anlu Uprising (1958–1959) in
Cameroon and The Women’s War of 1929 in Nigeria, in which women in this region
have used these ritual strategies to confront patriarchal forces, including colonial and
Christian institutions. The considerable power that Ejagham women have gained through
ritual associations such as Ekpa may partially explain how women have acquired the
social, artistic, and spiritual skills necessary to use these masking strategies that are so
often attributed to men.
References
Adams, Monni. 1993. Women’s Art as Gender Strategy Among the We/Guere, Canton Boo, Cote
d’Ivoire. African Arts 26:4, 32–43, 84.
Bettleheim, Judith. 1998. Women in Masquerade and Performance. African Arts 31:2, 68–70, 93–4.
Kasfir, Sidney L. 1998. Elephant Women, Furious and Majestic. Women’s Masquerades in Africa
and the Diaspora. African Arts 31:2, 18–27, 92.
Philips, Ruth B. 1995. Representing Woman: Sande Masquerades of the Mende of Sierra Leone.
Los Angeles: UCLA Fowler Museum of Cultural History.
Roschenthaler, Ute M. 1998. Honoring Ejagham Women. African Arts 31:2, 38–49, 92–3.
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Tonkin, Elizabeth. 1983. Women Excluded? Masking and Masquerading in West Africa. In
Women’s Religious Experience. ed. Pat Holden, London: Croom Helm.
AMANDA CARLSON
See also Gender Representation in African Folklore; Performance in Africa
MAURITANIA (ISLAMIC REPUBLIC
OF MAURITANIA)
Mauritania is a country of some 2.58 million located on Africa’s west coast whose
neighbors are Western Sahara, Algeria, Mali, and Senegal. Nouakchott, a city of 480,400,
is the country’s capital. Mauritania’s climate ranges from arid to semiarid, and
approximately three-fourths of the country is covered by sand. Forty percent of
Mauritania’s population is mixed Maure and darker-skinned Africans from farther south,
while it is estimated that Maures account for 30 percent of the population. “Maure” gives
us the name of the country as well as “Moor.” The remaining 30 percent is black. Arabic
and French are the country’s official languages, although Hasanya, Bamanankan, Fulani,
Sarakole, Wolof, and Berber languages are spoken as well. More than 99 percent of the
country is Sunni Muslim.
Mauritania gained its independence from France on November 28, 1960, and
subsequently formed an Islamic republic. The government has stressed Islam as a source
of national cohesion and unity, as it is the religion that many of the country’s diverse
ethnic groups share. Most individual freedoms are restricted in Mauritania. It was only in
1980 that slavery was officially abolished, and some traces can still be found.
In recent years, Mauritania has suffered from social tensions and economic problems.
In a move to alleviate such problems, the country held its first multiparty elections in
decades in 1992, but they were boycotted by opposition groups. Mauritania suffers from
the problems caused by the International Monetary Fund’s/World Bank’s policies of
structural adjustment that have burdened so many African nations.
For decades Mauritania’s climate has become increasingly drier, and as a result of
desertization, less than 1 percent of the land can be cultivated, and only 10 percent is
usable for livestock grazing. Such environmental conditions have resulted in great
migrations to urban centers, where employment problems abound and poverty is
prevalent. Despite such economic woes, Mauritania receives high revenue from its
fishing industry (as its coastal waters are among the richest in the world) and iron ore.
Some of Mauritania’s ancient cities, once trade and Islamic learning centers, are
currently in the processes of restoration. Located on traditional routes from North Africa
to Sudan, the cities were points of origin for pilgrimages to Mecca and were known
throughout the Middle East. The town of Chinguetti, for example, is ranked as the
seventh city of Islam, and scholars, poets, and priests have gathered there for centuries.
JENNIFER JOYCE
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MAURITIUS (REPUBLIC OF
MAURITIUS)
Mauritius is an island of 1.18 million, located off Africa’s southeast coast. Its capital is
Port Louis, a city of 142,000 people. The ethnic population of the country is mostly made
up of Indo-Mauritians and Creoles. English, French, Creole, Hindi, and Urdu are the most
widely spoken languages. Over half of the country is Hindu (52 percent), 28 percent are
Christian, 17 percent are Muslim, and the remaining 3 percent is made up of various
smaller religious groups.
Although the Portuguese “discovered” the island around 1510, it was the Dutch who
named and first settled on Mauritius. After a long colonial history of French and British
rule, Mauritius gained its independence from the British on March 12, 1968, and
subsequently set up its own parliamentary democracy. Political pluralism and human
rights are widely respected in the country. More than thirty political parties exist, and the
country’s labor movement is one of Africa’s strongest.
Until the 1970s, the Mauritian economy was largely dependent on its sugar industry.
While this is still a source of revenue for the country, Mauritius has since transformed
itself into a successful industrial and manufacturing state, exporting clothing and
chemicals. The exporting of flowers is also very profitable. There is a strong service
sector as well. Along with other Indian Ocean islands, Mauritius’s main source of foreign
revenue now comes from tourism. Mauritius has become one of the developing world’s
greatest economic successes.
PHILIP M.PEEK
MEDICINE: OVERVIEW
Folk medicine refers to the traditional resources used in the maintenance and restoration
of health, drawing from traditional, rather than modern, biomedical knowledge. African
folk medicine encompasses the indigenous cultural knowledge and practices used in
diagnosis, treatment, and prevention of illness. The knowledge on which African folk
medicine is based is acquired from concrete experiences in local environments and
transmitted orally from one generation to the other.
Folk medicine varies with social, cultural, and physical environments. This means that
African folk medicine is a variety of culture-specific responses to health concerns in
human experience. Ethnomedicine is a component of a people’s culture and refers to the
beliefs and practices relating to diseases that result from indigenous cultural evolution. In
this sense, folk medicine is not derived from the conceptual framework of modern
medicine. In this essay, the terms ethnomedicine, traditional medicine and folk medicine
are used synonymously. These terms do not necessarily denote archaic or obsolete
medicine, but refer to medical resources that are indigenous to the Africans, holistic
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environments. This is the medicine that existed before the introduction of Western
medicine and was suited to the needs of African cultures (Makinde 1988, 91).
African Worldview and Folk Medicine
Different environmental contexts provide Africans with various resources, which they
have incorporated in their folk-medicine practice. Within specific environments, local
communities have evolved integrated systems of beliefs, strategies, and behaviors to
prevent illness and restore health. The material and nonmaterial resources used to
maintain health constitute African folk medicine, which is associated with a uniform
worldview found in the sub-Saharan region.
Most traditional African societies perceive the universe as an entity that encompasses
pervasive vital powers. These powers, or forces, are hierarchically ordered and exist in a
state of equilibrium. The conceptually perceived harmony among the elements of the
universe ensures the well-being of humankind. When the harmony is enhanced, the
balance and order that determine health result. For human beings to stay healthy, the
perceived equilibrium among the elements of the universe should be sustained and
restored at all costs (Magesa 1997; Mbiti 1969).
The traditional African worldview has at least six categories of elements with have
vital power. The power that issues from these elements can either diminish or augment
the life force in human beings. God is the ultimate source of the vital force that affects
human life and health. The lesser deities, such as minor gods and autonomous spirits,
have a share of the supernatural power that emanates from God. There are also spirits of
the underworld, the waters, and the air whose power is ambivalently revered. Below God
and the semiautonomous spirits are the people who died a long time ago, but are still
actively remembered by their descendants. These ancestral spirits have their own
demands on the living, and when these demands are fulfilled, the ancestors reciprocate
with good health, general well-being, and prosperity.
Living human beings are also part and parcel of the African traditional perception of
the universe. This category of beings is sustained by the power of life drawn from the
other elements, as well as from their own activities. Human beings sustain their life and
health by tapping power from greater elements that include God, the lesser deities, and
the autonomous, as well as the human, ancestral spirits. Plants, animals, and other bio tic
elements are also perceived as resources that enhance human life and health. These
elements constitute the core sources of material for medicine. Other natural phenomena
and objects are also believed to be potential sources of medicine because they possess
life-enhancing or life-threatening forces, which ultimately are controlled by the high God.
Nonbiotic elements also have medicinal value, especially when they are associated with
sacred places and inherent mystical power. Other natural objects attain the property of
having a healing power through ritualistic animation with spiritual strength.
From the African conception of the universe, therefore, there exist phenomena that
have the potential to provide the force essential to human vitality and perpetuation of life.
Lay medical practitioners can tap this power, although experts who have supernatural
endowments maximize the efficacy of the curative and healing force in natural healthpromoting resources. God, spirits, and ancestors constitute part of the African cosmology
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that comprises the powers of the invisible world. Conversely, human beings, animals,
plants, and other tangible phenomena are part of the visible world. Traditional Africans
believe that both the visible and invisible elements have power that can be manipulated or
harnessed to affect human beings negatively and positively.
The principles of African folk medicine are, therefore, founded on the traditional
perception of a pervasive power in the universe. Traditional medical practice is
concerned with the cosmic power that is advantageous to human beings, especially when
there is a balance in the universe. Diagnostic and therapeutic practices among traditional
African medical experts reflect the anthropocentric nature of the African cosmological
perspective (Mbiti 1969; Magesa 1997). In the African traditional conceptualization of
the universe, everything is perceived to exist so as to benefit human beings. In this
regard, the world comprises a convergence of powers, whereby health, prosperity,
controlled suffering, and minimum misfortunes in human experience reflect the desired
equilibrium for achieving abundant life. From the African folk explanatory models for
illness, there is the popular belief that powers in the universe affect each other
reciprocally. Folk medicine, is therefore, an attempt by practitioners to restore balance in
the universe, keep a good relationship with the powers from the visible and invisible
worlds, and eradicate illnesses that result from an existing lack of equilibrium.
Folk medicine in indigenous African societies is also concerned with the disharmony
that results from human interactions and activities in their visible social world. Human
beings have the potential to manipulate the invisible spiritual power in the universe to
harm others out of jealousy and vengeance. In this regard there are medicines to counter
the undeserved misfortune and suffering meted by witches, sorcerers, and the “evil eyed.”
Some of the medicines associated with the social agents of disease and misfortune are
either protective or curative. Traditional Africans with diseases and illnesses originating
from the invisible spiritual world also associate the social world with misfortune. Health
problems, which emanate from the African social world, are culturally constructed by the
local people as the consequence of a breach of taboos and the disruption of social
equilibrium that enhances human well-being in one way or another. Diseases that
indigenous Africans directly or indirectly associate with breaches in the moral social
order include those that are linked to lineage inheritance, malevolent spirits, and curses.
In traditional belief systems, illnesses contracted through these agents and mechanisms
mainly represent a disruption in spiritual equilibrium.
Traditional medicines, addressed to the spiritual causes of illness, underpin the folk
notions about a person’s dual nature. The belief that a human being is both corporeal and
nonmaterial is ubiquitous in sub-Saharan Africa. The invisible human life force in the
African worldview is the intangible air or breath-like force given by God. This aspect of a
person forms the human spiritual dimension, which stretches to eternity. This spiritual
force, integrated with the human body, is usually affected by the consequences of evil
deeds, naturally occurring cosmic imbalances, and human misbehavior. This conception
of the double nature of human beings in traditional beliefs accounts for the application of
organic matter to cure the organic person and the use of “nonempirical” medicines as
spiritual remedies. This implies that African folk medicine draws from a traditional view
in which good health goes beyond a simplistic perception of a healthy body only
(Ngubane 1977).
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The perceived integrated nature of the African universe influences traditional medical
practice, which is based on an understanding of health as a holistic phenomenon. In this
perspective, health involves a state of comprehensive mental, psychological, spiritual,
physical, and cosmic equilibrium. As such, good health is a condition of harmonious
coexistence between people and fellow human beings, people and invisible spiritual
forces, and people with rest of the natural world. Health is not an isolated phenomenon
but part of the entire magico-religious and social fabrics. It is an intricate physical
condition as well as a religious matter (Appiah-Kubi 1981; Mbiti 1969). Illnesses are
indicators of an ontological imbalance, which requires restoration through the use of both
tangible and intangible medicines.
The traditional African worldview provides a framework for perceiving the origin of
illness. Understanding the causality of ill health has enabled the people to discover
resources derived from their environments to combat undesirable health conditions. The
most common resources that constitute African folk medicine are leaves, herbs, barks,
and the animal substances that were revealed to the forebears of medical practice before
the contact with Western and other foreign medical systems.
For Africans, the human world is conceived as a field of forces. The two opposing
features of the cosmos are life and death. In this sense, medical practices comprise the
use of all known empirical and nonempirical resources aimed at combating death and
other enemies of life. There is also the world of spiritual beings and powers that intervene
in human affairs. Among spiritual forces, some are good, others ambiguous or evil.
People consider these powers as living realities, which can be solicited and can influence
human destiny. According to this perception, there is hidden power in plants, human
beings, animals, inanimate objects, and some specific parts of fauna and flora. Material
and nonmaterial phenomena can be used as intermediaries of invisible spiritual and
cosmic powers to affect health. Various types of traditional medicines and related
practices are applied on the basis of folk theories about the relationship between the
powers of the visible and the invisible worlds as well as God, ancestors, the spirits, and
human beings. Folk medicine practiced by Africans, therefore, is classified as curative,
preventive, tonics, or remedies for spiritual illnesses. Each of these categories of
medicine is based on folk knowledge about strategies for restoring balance in human
organic and social experiences.
Curative Medicine
Curative medicine is applied to alleviate or remove bad health conditions, which are
practically conceived in the human body. The traditional cures in this case involve herbal
leaves, stems, bulbs, barks, roots, decoctions, and animal substances, which traditional
Africans believe have the power to treat illnesses linked to natural causality (Kokwaro
1976; Appiah-Kubi 1981). Practitioners use these medicines as purgatives, enemas, and
emetics with regard to cultural knowledge of illness as a consequence of body intrusion.
Traditionally, where illnesses are associated with culture-bound theories about the attack
of undesirable foreign objects or conditions that should be removed, medical resources
would involve the use of bitter medicines, egg yolk, and other ingredients of
ethnopharmacopeia local people believe are opposed to the illness-causing elements.
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Indigenous treatment is also effected through rubbing herbs into the skin, inhaling
medicated air or vapor, and administering cures through body incisions.
Traditional cures also include the material used to deal with the nonorganic spheres of
illness. Folk medicines used in this case are believed to have the power to combat
illnesses resulting from mystical causes that are not easily predicted or managed. To
traditional Africans, therefore, the most efficacious medicines are those they believe
possess vital forces that restore health at both metaphysical and physical levels. In this
sense, there are medicines, used to cure conditions caused by human agents such as
witches and sorcerers, and by supernatural punishments for breaches of moral order and
taboos (Maclean 1971). Traditional healers ameliorate conditions with perceived natural
and supernatural causality using oral incantations, spells, and physical medicines. Special
herbs and material medicine may also be used in the process of spiritual exorcism. The
behaviors of the members of the community and good relationships with spirits are
important in keeping cosmic harmony. Those who strictly observe the norms of social life
and fulfill the religious and customary duties, can succeed in confronting the threats to
life emanating from spiritual powers.
Folk cures among Africans also include the use of medicines they believe have either
similar or the exact opposite qualities of the effects of an illness. As an example, herbs
with milklike saps would be used to cure conditions involving milk production among
humans and livestock. Similarly, herbs that produce red decoctions are applied in various
societies to enact the power of blood. Ethnomedical practice in Africa gives importance
to blood, which is regarded as one of the agents of good health. Folk medical theories and
practices imply that blood is the main beneficiary of all medicine addressed to naturally
caused diseases and illnesses (Makinde 1988). The principle that blood carries life is the
basis for practices such as rubbing medicines in incisions and letting out bad blood from
the body through suction.
Protective Medicine
Traditional Africans also apply medicines with the power to ward off misfortunes,
suffering, and bad luck, which they perceive as disease or illness. Illness in this sense is
understood to result from forces in the environment, the spiritual world, human malice
and envy, and the power of the spoken word. Chewing herbs from the areas where the
diseases are perceived to originate prevents diseases and illnesses, which result from
potent environmental emissions. Protection of human health is based on notions about
magical or countermedicine. In this context, various types of charms and amulets are
used to ward off the effects of curses, witchcraft, and sorcery. Medical preparations from
herbs and animal substances are also applied to protect people from unknown causes of
illnesses that are generally attributed to superhuman forces. Ritualistic practices in
sacrifices, divinations, incantations, and spells invoking the names of ancestors also have
preventive effect in the traditional healthseeking behaviors among rural Africans. On the
same plane, ethnomedicine is applied to prevent accidents, defeat in legal cases,
possession by evil spirits, anger of ancestors, and other health dangers.
Apart from tapping the protective power of traditional medicines, these substances are
also used as tonic herbs for revitalizing social, physical, mental, and spiritual vitality. The
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decrease of the life power in this regard is perceived in all spheres of health through
direct or indirect manifestations of malfunction. At the social level, quarrels, hatreds, and
other forms of conflict that eventually affect human well-being are indicators of
diminution of health. Reduction in physical health is recognized through perceived
dysfunction of the body as an organism. The negative effects of mystical forces on
mental and spiritual health are realized through culturally constructed reduction of
normalcy. Syndromes associated with the mind and spirit are sometimes manifested in
conditions defined as madness, nightmares, and ominous visions. Preventive medicine in
such cases includes substances that are believed to have repulsive power to ward off
agents of illness. This medicine is constituted of herbs and animal substances with strong
scents, which would either attract benevolent protective spirits or repel bad ones. Health
protection also requires medicines that are applied to ensure fertility among men and
women. Various types of aphrodisiacs, foods, fruits, and traditional beers are perceived
differently by various people as health-revitalizing substances. Spiritual strength may
also be rejuvenated through a mixture of herbs and incantations.
Human and Livestock Medicine
African ethnomedical practice, as applied to human beings and domesticated livestock, is
based on similar knowledge about sources and operation of cures and healing. It is
believed that the cosmic and spiritual forces that are against one’s own health and
prosperity would also affect one’s possessions, of which livestock and especially cattle
are the most valued. Therefore, to treat livestock diseases, some people resort to herbal
preparations with both curative and preventive power. The same herbal medicines may be
used to treat other illnesses among human beings and their livestock. The Digo of the
Kenya coast, for example, use the mkawalafisi or mpalafisi herb as a treatment for
pneumonia, as well as a charm to protect their livestock from predators. The Meru, the
Swahili, and the Kamba use muatha, muhasa, and muvatha (Veronia lasiopus),
respectively, to treat stomachache among people and sores on cattle (Kokwaro 1976).
The principles behind the use of some types of medicines, such as purgatives, also apply
to livestock. Ritualistic medicine also alleviates the ill health of livestock and is part of
holistic health, of which some indicators are the success and well-being people seek from
supernatural powers.
Conclusion
African folk medicine is based on indigenous cultural knowledge and practices used in
diagnosis, prevention, and treatment of diseases and illnesses. This medicine existed in
Africa before the introduction of modern medicine and relied on concrete experiences
and observations transmitted orally through the generations. The focus of African
ethnomedicine is the power in the universe, which can affect life positively or negatively.
Traditional medical practice depends on the expert’s or lay practitioners’ spiritual
endowment of the power to discover causes of illnesses and prescribe efficacious
remedies. Traditional medicine is ultimately concerned with restoring and maintaining
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equilibrium among all elements in the universe. When equilibrium is lacking in the
human organism, and in the cosmic, social, and spiritual spheres, health is disturbed and
illness results. Alleviation of ill health depends on how the power of the universe can be
tapped and balanced successfully, using tangible and nonempirical medicine. The
efficacy of this medicine is realized simultaneously at both the psychological and
physical or organic levels of human experience.
References
Appiah-Kubi, Kofi. 1981. Man Cures, God Heals: Religion and Medical Practice among the Akans
of Ghana. New York: Friendship Press.
Devisch, Rene. 1993. Weaving the Threads of Life: The Khita Gyn-Eco-Logical Healing Cult
Among the Yaka. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Feierman, Steven, and John M.Janzen, eds. 1992. The Social Basis of Health and Healing in Africa.
Berkeley: University of California Press.
Janzen, John M.Ngoma: Discourses of Healing in Central and Southern Africa. Berkeley:
University of California Press.
Katz, Richard. Boiling Energy: Community Healing Among the Kalahari Kung. Cambridge, Mass.:
Harvard University Press.
Kokwaro, J.O. 1976. Medicinal Plants of East Africa. Nairobi: Kenya Literature Bureau.
Maclean, Una. 1971. Magical Medicine: A Nigerian Case Study. London: Penguin Press.
Magesa, Laurenti. 1997. African Religion: The Moral Tradition of Abundant Life. New York: Orbis
Books.
Makinde, M.Akin. 1988. African Philosophy, Culture and Traditional Medicine. Athens, Ohio:
Center for International Studies, Ohio University.
Ngubane, Harriet. 1977. Body and Mind in Zulu Medicine: An Ethnography of Health and Disease
in Nyuswa-Zulu Thought and Practice. London: Academic Press.
Twumasi, Patrice A. 1975. Medical Systems in Ghana: A Study in Medical Sociology. Accra,
Ghana
Yoder, P.Stanley, ed., 1982. African Health and Healing Systems. Los Angeles
BENSON A.MULEMI
See also Cosmology; Divination; Religion: African Traditional Religions; Spirit
Possession
MEDICINE: FOLK MEDICINE OF THE
HAUSA
To someone unfamiliar with medical practices in rural West Africa, the sight of a young
girl with strings of leather-bound amulets around her waist and neck being led by her
mother to a Western dispensary for therapy might be incongruous. But to the Hausa of
southern Niger, combining seemingly incompatible therapeutic approaches is far from
paradoxical. It is, in fact, standard procedure for those who face the threat of illness on a
daily basis. No one will be surprised to hear from a woman who describes herself as a
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pious Muslim that she has enlisted the services of a spirit medium to ensure her brother’s
success in finding a job.
In this impoverished, drought-ridden country, where many struggle to eke out a living
from the sandy Sahelian soil, there are many paths available to those who seek relief from
their ailments, whether they are suffering from hepatitis, diarrhea, or sleeplessness.
Exposure to Western beliefs has meant that some villagers regularly visit the local
dispensary to receive quinine for malaria or to get a shot that will cure what they call
ciwon likita (“illness of the doctor,” that is, treatable by biomedical means). Although
certain conditions require visits to specialized practitioners such as bonesetters,
midwives, or herbalists, other afflictions are not so easily classified. In such cases,
diviners and spirit mediums often play a critical role because, whether they identify an
ailment as an “illness of evil” (caused by sorcery) or as an illness caused by spirits, their
diagnosis ultimately helps patients make sense of their problems by concretizing the roots
of the affliction.
The domain of lahiya (health), as the Hausa see it, extends well beyond the limited
boundaries of the Western concept of health to include a sense of harmony with one’s
social and physical environment. From this perspective, health refers as much to personal
well-being as to the fertility of the land and the prosperity of the community. Absence of
lahiya thus entails not only wasted bodies and individual sickness, but also social strife,
climatic disasters, or business failure. Quranic scholars who provide Islamic medicine to
ward off evil often derive a substantial income from the manufacture of amulets or
potions destined to insure success while taking an exam or protection from competition
on the job market. Similarly, spirit mediums who advertise their skills as healers may
receive requests to call on the spirits on behalf of patients who are complaining of
stomach aches, suffer from insomnia, or require protection before traveling. While most
of those who claim to be Muslim generally seek advice and treatment from Quranic
healers, they occasionally—and discreetly—resort to the services of spirit mediums when
they suspect a spirit attack, or when all other options have been exhausted. Muslims shun
spirit possession and the practice of dealing with spirits to cure afflictions. They insist
that prayers to Allah are more effective than sacrificial offerings to the spirits. While both
Quranic science and the medicine of spirits have proven their effectiveness, they are of
no avail against certain afflictions, such as darme, that are attributed to human agency.
Now that cash has become the indispensable means of exchange, individuals who find
that money “burns holes in their pockets” or who feel unable to keep a job often suspect
that they have been “tied” (darme) through sorcery by a resentful colleague or
competitor. Successful civil servants who draw a regular income are particularly fearful
of darme attack in a country where scarce administrative positions are coveted by many.
In such contexts, one’s inability to hold on to a salaried position or, more generally, to
maneuver within one’s social and professional world may be diagnosed as a symptom of
darme. Darme sometimes proves fatal because the victims are so reluctant or unable to
absorb food that they slowly wither and die, besides losing all interest in money or
professional matters. Restoring the patient to health involves removing surgically, or
through the absorption of a special concoction, the knots that have formed in the ailing
body as a result of the “tying.” Some healers who specialize in such procedures pull out a
foreign substance—such as knotted cotton threads—from a small incision in their
patients’ necks or backs. Others provide potent medicines that, once absorbed orally, will
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dissolve the knots or flush them out of the victim’s body. Once the crippling knots—
whose numbers indicate precisely how many years the victim has been afflicted—are
destroyed, patients are soon able to eat normally again and resume their former activities.
Nevertheless, there may be lasting effects depending on the duration of the illness.
Recognizing darme as a debilitating condition whose emergence is rooted in a context of
thwarted ambitions, intense competition, and economic wants is a way of symbolically
dealing with the corrosive impact of money. By translating monetary failure and
uncertainty into the accessible experience of physical wasting, Hausaphone Nigerians can
devise cures to reverse the visible effects of economic forces that insidiously threaten
their current well-being and prosperity.
References
Abdalla, Ismail H.Neither Friend, Nor Foe: The Malam Practitioner-Yan Bori Relationship in
Hausaland. In Women’s Medicine: The Zar-Bori Cult in Africa and Beyond, ed. I.M. Lewis,
Ahmed Al-Safi, and Sayyid Hurreiz. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press..
Last, Murray. 1979. Strategies Against Time. Sociology of Health and Illness 1, no. 3:306–15.
Masquelier, Adeline. 1999. Money and Serpents, Their Remedy Is Killing: The Pathology of
Consumption in Southern Niger. Research in Economic Anthropology, 20:97–115.
Wall, Lewis. 1988. Hausa Medicine: Illness and Well-Being in a West African Culture. Durham:
Duke University Press.
ADELINE MASQUELIER
See also Divination; Spirit Possession
MEDICINE: INDIGENOUS
THERAPEUTIC SYSTEMS IN
WESTERN KENYA
The term therapy is drawn form the Greek word therapeia, which connotes the ideas
related to health care practices and cure of diseases. Traditional therapeutic systems are
the organized, indigenous strategies of caring for those in ill-health conditions,
constructed from culture-bound medical knowledge. This knowledge is integrated with
beliefs and practices that have evolved as part of specific cultures for the maintenance
and restoration of health. This implies that traditional therapeutic systems existed before
the development of, and contact with, modern medicine. In this sense, traditional
therapies in indigenous African societies convey, in a symbolic way, their beliefs and
attitudes towards the strong mystical powers that underpin their culturally constructed
universe.
The traditional therapeutic systems in western Kenya are embedded in the indigenous
cultural knowledge related to notions about good health, causes of disease and illnesses,
the courses and duration of illness episodes, the sources of cures, and the importance of
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social groups in health care and restoration. The Luhyia (or Abaluhyia) and the Luo (or
Jaluo) of western Kenya in East Africa provide typical indigenous African models of
health care and treatment of diseases and illnesses. These models reflect a system of
therapy, supported by shared beliefs and myths about etiologies of different diseases and
ailments.
The Luhyia and Luo ethnic groups are linguistically different, but they share many
cultural aspects such as economic, social, and religious institutions. The Luhyia form part
of the linguistic group in Kenya known as the Western Bantu. The other Bantuspeaking
ethnic groups in this region are the Abakuria and Abagusii. The Luhyia is the second
largest ethnic grouping in Kenya and includes at least fifteen known subcultures with
mutually intelligible subdialects. The Luo are the only representatives in Kenya of the
linguistic and cultural group in Eastern Africa known as the River-Lake Nilotes. They are
the third largest ethnic group in Kenya and are also found in other countries of eastern
Africa such as Uganda and Tanzania.
One of the most significant differences between the Luo and Luhyia is found in their
myths of origin. Oral tradition among the Luhyia elders and other sage informants claim
that their original homeland is a place to the north called Misri, which is a local
equivalent of Egypt. Conversely, the Luo mythology indicates that the original homeland
of this group was some fertile area where one of the Nile river tributaries originates.
These differences in myths of origin account for the cultural variations between the two
communities; however, these ethnic groups share some significant cultural traits due to
their long coexistence. The Luhyia have integrated cultural traits of the Nilotic Luo
speakers and other Bantu-speaking groups (Fedders and Salvadori 1976). Similarly, some
elements of the indigenous medical knowledge among the Luhyia and Luo can be found
among other neighboring ethnic groups.
The Cultural Construction of Health
The traditional methods of treatment and prevention of disease and illness among the
Luhyia and Luo reflect the typical percep-tion of health among the indigenous societies
in this region. These societies view health as the holistic well-being of human beings,
which entails psychological, physical, spiritual, and cosmic equilibrium. Good health is a
condition positively associated with stability and increment in all the visible and invisible
forces that enhance human life and prosperity. The Luo and Luhyia description of health
is couched in phrases and terms that imply wholeness, harmony, and an integrated force
of life. Members of these communities who consider themselves healthy use terms
centered around the roots -lamu (mulamu) and ngima (a-angima) respectively to refer to
a comprehensive state of being without disease and illness. This means that the
indigenous strategies to cure illness are integrated with the myths and beliefs regarding
the enemies of the wholeness of human life. Among the Luo, for instance, ethnomedical
remedies and therapies are varied and all encompassing because there is no aspect of life
that exists independent of health (Kawango 1995, 81).
Both Luhyia and Luo have evolved health care and restoration strategies based on
their cultural knowledge and cultural ecologies. In this context, health is perceived as a
state of equilibrium with all the visible and invisible elements in the universe. These
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elements are animated with mystical powers, which affect human life either directly or
indirectly. These communities locate antagonists to human life and well-being in the
natural, social, and spiritual worlds. Health action, therefore, involves comprehensive
efforts to restore both perceived and unknown areas of imbalance in the ethnocosmology.
This approach to disease or illness treatment is founded on culturally constructed
synergetic activity of combined herbal medicines, incantations, spells, and magicoreligous rituals. In this sense, the local people would use multiple treatment strategies to
increase the probability of addressing all the possible causes of disease or illness
(Wandibba 1995; Kawango 1995). To achieve the goal of comprehensive health care and
treatment of disease, the Luyo and the Luhyia resort to simultaneous or sequential use of
herbal remedies and appeals to the mystical sources of help, depending on the perceived
causes of ill health.
Notions of Disease Causality and Therapeutic Patterns
Indigenous illness etiologies in western Kenya typify African ideas and myths about the
sources and origins of illness as manifestations of misfortunes in human experience.
Disease and illness etiologies are usually attributed to a multiplicity of human,
superhuman, and naturalistic factors. This holistic perception of disease causality gives
rise to determinations of human causes, natural and inherited diseases, misfortunes
associated with God and spirits, and syndromes that are explained with reference to
breach of taboos and customs.
Human-Caused Illnesses and Diseases
In many traditional African societies, all human beings are potential sources of evil. Both
the Luo and Luhyia believe that some human beings can tap the pervasive power in the
universe either to harm or augment the person’s life force. Among the Luhyia, sorcerers
(balyuli, babila or basijeteri) apply medicines to harm others, and their victims may get
ill and even die. For the Luo and Luhyia, sorcerers are people who oscillate between
harmful and protective activities by using potent medicine. Their positive role in human
well-being is realized when they are consulted to provide preventive medicine and
material for revenge.
Disease and illness in this society are also attributed to human agents who practice
witchcraft (vulogi, vulosi). Witches are essentially the agents of evil, and their activities
never have aspects which local people describe as positive in relation to human wellbeing. The local people believe that the art of witches and sorcerers is transmitted
through specific clans and lineages. The human agents in such descent groups have
access to mystical power and can manipulate potent medicines and spells against other
people because of jealousy (imbodokha) or vengeance (burima).
The Luhyia perceive the negative health effects of the witches (jojuok) among the Luo
in a similar way. Among the Luo, chronic chest pains, coughing, or conditions that
cannot be treated by herbal and other tangible medicines are attributed to the evil
practices of witches. Such illnesses and other culturebound syndromes that cannot be
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easily treated by empirical remedies include the effects of the “evil eye.” The evil eye is
usually blamed for persistent health problems such as stomachache and stitch (hima,
rihima). Victims of diseases caused by personal agents seek treatment from people they
believe to have some supernatural powers. These specialists include diviners, oracles, and
seers. The basic role of such thearapists and curers, especially the herbal specialists, is
diagnostic. The specialists include the general traditional practitioners (ajuoga), diviners
(jodilo), and those who remove bewitchment medicine and other objects of the evil eye
from the patient’s stomach. Others include experts who propitiate evil spirits (jodilo) and
traditional specialists who can determine by scent where bad medicines are hidden or
buried (jamorieri) (Ocholla-Ayayo 1976).
The traditional herbal pharmacopoeia incorporates the treatment of conditions that the
local people associate with personal agents of illness causality. Among the Luo, there are
herbal remedies for sihoho, a syndrome believed to result from the bewitchment of
cooked food eaten in the presence of a special evil-eyed witch called jasihoho. This witch
is believed to have powers that cause indigestion, stomachache, and swellings of the
stomach and legs. To remedy this condition, pounded leaves of herbs, such as nyalwet
kwach, ohingla-thiang’, and olandra, are taken orally. The Luo and Luhyia also treat this
illness through incisions made to remove the objects of intrusion by using a suction pad
or the specialist’s mouth.
The Luhya, especially the Bukusu subgroup, also believe that body intrusion is
effected through bewitchment of food. Body intrusion techniques include the throwing of
harmful objects called ebilasila. Ebilasila consist of tiny objects such as hairs, bits of
grass, beans, bone splinters, and pieces of broken bottles. In the traditional Luhya belief
systems, such objects are mysteriously transmitted into the body of the witch’s victim.
When these objects have entered the victim’s body, they cause acute illnesses such as a
swollen stomach and cramps, accompanied by vomiting, intense headache, hot forehead,
and unbearable fever. Apart from herbal remedies and consulting valumiki (those who
specialize in suctioning foreign objects or illnesses from the stomach), the Luhyia treat
this condition through rituals and spells conducted by doctors and oracles or seers, whom
they believe have access to mystical powers to counter the effects of witches.
Naturally Caused Diseases and Illnesses
Traditional therapeutic practices in western Kenya are also based on beliefs and myths
about natural or environmental causes of illness. Some ailments are believed to result
from environmental pollution or emissions with harmful elements that alter the cosmic
equilibrium. Most of the people believe that when muya (bad air) is inhaled, illnesses
such as fever, thrush, flu, scabies, and nose bleeding may result. The local people
perceive changes in wind and weather patterns as ominous and disruptive to health also.
Among the Luo, yamo (boils) and skin diseases are believed to come with winds from
other places. Seasonal changes, environmental pollution, and contamination of the air are
traditionally associated with cosmic cycles among the Luo and Luhyia. These changes,
when accompanied by other natural occurrences such as rains, maturation of food crops,
and eclipses, have been associated by local peoples with invisible mystical powers that
are potentially dangerous.
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Symbolic cosmic liminality is explained in myths as having hidden power that disrupts
the existing equilibrium in the human corporeal and spiritual spheres of life. The Luo, the
Luhyia and their neighbors perceive the resulting cosmic imbalance as having negative
consequences for health. In this sense, illness is usually associated with natural events
such as the flowering of food crops and other vegetation. The changes in seasons
manifested in perceptible natural phenomena such as rain, earth tremors, migration of
birds, and floods are linked with different illnesses. The indigenous Luo and Luhyia, for
instance, associate sudden increase in cases of mental illness, diarrhea, fever, and
stomachache with potent emissions in the environment resulting from natural cosmic
rhythms.
The belief that some health problems are caused naturally among societies in western
Kenya entail the traditional notions about pollution. In the Babukusu and Abatachoni
Luhyia subcultures, the people also believe that there are times when the air is
contaminated, and if such air is inhaled, the victim becomes ill (Wandibba 1995). There
is also belief that some illnesses may be caused by crossing foreign rivers and
environments. These people believe that rivers, swamps, ashes from the hearths of
mothers who are weaning twins, and valleys have potent powers that cause illnesses. For
the indigenous Luhyia, flu and illnesses whose signs are rashes around the mouth result
from emissions in such environments. Some Luo and Luhyia groups also believe that
disease may result from symbolic pollution caused by activities that are against human
life, such as bloodshed, and immoral sexual behavior, such as incest and adultery.
Diseases or illnesses that these communities attribute to natural or environmental
causes are treated empirically through natural and herbal remedies. In the Luhyia medical
ecology, the myths about the forces behind natural illnesses imply that some personified
mystical forces collaborate with cosmic events and rhythms to affect human health. In
such cases, treatment strategies would include multiple therapeutic practices (Nyamwaya
1986). Local perceptions about naturally caused diseases and ailments are linked to the
culture-bound conceptualization of intrusion of pathogens and conditions that oppose
existing equilibrium in the human internal and external environments.
In order to cure the conditions of naturally induced body intrusion, the people of
western Kenya seek therapeutic resources they believe have mystical potency to expel the
resulting disease. The Luo believe that the most potent therapeutic resources to counter
the effects of natural illnesses are bitter herbal medicines. Following this local perception
of efficacy, communities in western Kenya use emetics, purgatives, and herbal
medicines, which they squeeze into incisions that are intended to let out “bad blood.”
Therapists also use different medicines to induce vomiting or diarrhea, in which case,
purgation and emesis are believed to signify the expulsion of the disease from the body.
Some of the Luo and Luhyia communities also interpret the appearance of rashes on the
mouth of patients after taking medicines as indicators that the pathogens or opposing
conditions that caused illness are leaving the body. In the traditional therapy management
groups, participants believe that therapeutic efficacy for any kind of disease is determined
by the power possessed by the practitioners of that medicine. The most effective
practitioners are those whom the people believe are the legitimate heirs of the curing and
healing vocation acquired through special lineages. Ethnomedical practice is sanctioned
by myths, which attribute the healers’ treatment abilities to the mystical powers conferred
by ancestral spirits and God to specific clans and individuals.
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The other strategy used by these communities to treat illnesses associated with natural
causality includes the process of steam inhalation (fundo/humo). The leaves, bark, and
roots of certain herbal medicines are boiled, and part of the solutions is taken orally while
the rest is used to steam bathe the patient. In the folk explanatory models, steam bathing
and inhalation help the patient recover from illnesses such as fevers and flu through
sweating. They also resort to induced sneezing by the use of herbal powder from herbs
such as obuo madongo and indama to expel body intrusions they believe cause fevers,
headaches, colds, flu, dizziness, and nose bleeding. Among the Luhyia, diseases of the
chest are also treated by steam inhalation involving herbal solutions from a herb called
litoto.
Illnesses Linked to Spiritual Causes and Breach of Taboos
As in the beliefs of other African communities, personified supernatural agents may
cause disease among the Luhyia and Luo. Some misfortunes, described as disease in the
folk explanatory models, are caused by malevolent spirits. The Luo and Luhyia people
believe that spirits may send sickness and death to express their demands. When the
indigenous people attribute illnesses to spiritual causes, they always explain the origin in
terms of displeasure of ancestral spirits or God. People who are afflicted by the
supernatural agents of illness resort to spiritualistic healing. This type of healing is, to a
large extent, based on the belief that there are some people who are endowed to cure
certain diseases revealed to them through the help of spiritual powers. The traditional
therapeutic procedures in this case involve special rituals and gestures to propitiate the
spiritual forces so that they can restore human health. When such rituals are ignored, the
spirits send more punishment in the form of illness. In this regard, the traditional people
perceive disease and illness as reminders to the living that they should accord the spiritual
powers the respect they deserve. Diseases in this sense sanction the living to maintain
proper relations with the dead and the invisible world.
The people of western Kenya believe that supernatural punishment also results from
breach of taboos and contravention of moral order. When people go against established
social norms, it is tantamount to disrespect to the ancestors who are guardians of tradition
and morality. In this sense, disease and therapy are important in harmonizing personal
and social experiences that are affected by visible and invisible interactions. For the Luo,
chira is the consequence of a breach of both known and unknown taboos. The symptoms
of chira include persistent headache, wichbar, coughing, and diarrhea. More specifically,
illnesses that gradually cause body wasting are linked to chira. Other diseases that the
traditional Luo and Luhyia associate with the breach of taboos are infertility, early death
of children, and the contraction of incurable diseases among children and adults.
The breach of taboos is against social and moral codes that are necessary for the
perpetuation of life. Among the Luhyia, immorality exposes individuals and their
lineages to conditions of ritual impurity and danger, referred to as luswa. They have
mythical explanations of luswa, which, in some cases, result in inherited diseases such as
chronic skin ailments. Health conditions, which the people associate with breach of
taboos and supernatural causality, are treated through traditional sacrificial rituals.
Victims of ritual impurity spread illnesses, and traditional practitioners of health care
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would advise that these people should be avoided until cleansing rites are performed.
Therapeutic techniques in such cases also include the use of assorted medicines derived
from vegetation, animals and other potent natural resources.
Conclusion
Indigenous therapeutic practices in western Kenya are part of an integrated system of
belief and thought. These systems provide the local people with the myths and folk
theories about the origins of disease and illnesses. The people in this region believe that
the etiologies of disease and illness are numerous. A multiplicity of origins of illness
create infinite forces that are antagonistic to human welfare and life. Therefore, in these
traditional societies, there exist different therapeutic approaches and options as an
adaptation to the perceived threats to life. The myths about the origins of diseases and
illnesses provide the people with lay conceptual frameworks of analyzing diseases and
health. Folk explanatory models allow the local people to contextualize the healthendangering forces within the natural, social, and spiritual worlds that underpin holistic
human existence and survival.
References
Fedders, Andrew, and Cynthia Salvadon. 1979. Peoples and Cultures of Kenya. Nairobi:
Transafrica Book Distributors.
Kawango, Evelynes Agot. 1995. Ethnomedical Remedies and Therapies in Maternal and Child
Health among the Rural Luo. In Traditional Medicine in Africa, ed. Sindiga Isaac, Chacha
Nyaigoti Chacha, and Mary Peter Kanunah. Nairobi: East African Educational Publishers.
Nyamwaya, David. 1986. Medicine and Health. In Kenya Socio-Cultural Profiles: Busia District,
ed. Gideon S.Were, Nairobi: Ministry of Planning and National Development and the Institute
of African Studies.
Ocholla-Ayayo, A.B.C. 1976. Traditional Ideology and Ethics among the Southern Luo. Uppsala:
Scandinavian Institute.
Wandibba, Simiyu. 1995. Traditional Medicine among the Abaluyia. In Traditional Medicine in
Africa, ed. Sindiga Isaac, Chacha Nyaigoti-Chacha, and Mary P.Kanunah. Nairobi: East African
Educational Publishers.
BENSON A. MULEMI
See also Cosmology; Divination; Spirit Possession
MENDE
See Prose Narratives: The Mende; Silence in Expressive Behavior
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METALLURGY AND FOLKLORE
Precolonial and early colonial African societies that depended on metals and complicated
metal technology also relied on folklore to teach about and reinforce the social
significance of metals. Folklore explained, justified, and, in some cases, manipulated
ideas about metal production and use. Iron and copper have a long history and wide
significance across Africa and, therefore, will be the focus of this discussion. Gold, silver,
and alloys of copper, such as bronze and brass, were also important to some societies.
Folktales, songs, oral traditions, and more formal oral histories involving
metalworking, metal workers, and metal objects communicate and explain. Significant
topics included the origins of society, the origins of kingship and royal dynasties, the
origins of metals and metallurgy, the social status and activities of metal workers, and
why metal production succeeded or failed. Many different people created and used
traditions about metallurgy, including the political and social elite, official historians,
storytellers, villagers, and metal workers themselves, depending on the purpose of a
desired message and the context in which it was told or sung.
Importance of Metallurgy
Reference to metals, particularly iron and copper, in such diverse folklore genres and
sources is a result of several factors. First, these metals were highly valued in everyday
life. For centuries, iron has been critical to the fundamental subsistence activities of many
African societies, including hoe agriculture, hunting, building, and food preparation.
Copper was used for personal adornment and to symbolize significant life changes, social
status, and political power. Furthermore, these metals were valued for the complex
technical process involved in their manufacture: at a minimum, mining the requisite ore,
smelting the ore into a mass of raw metal in a furnace, and hammer-forging it on an anvil
to make an object.
Second, particular properties of iron and copper, such as color, luminosity,
malleability, corrosion resistance, storability, and sound, carried symbolic meaning in
many African societies. These physical properties were often used as descriptive
metaphors in stories and orations about various matters. The red color of copper was
widely associated with blood (related to war and/or fertility), heat, and power, but also
had many other meanings depending on its context of use. Iron was most often associated
with strength and hardness, such as among the Luba (Congo) and Oromo (Ethiopia,
Somalia). Some folklore even explained the differences between metals based on
physical properties. The Yoruba (Nigeria) origin myths present iron, brass, and lead as
the children of the same mother. When they were all told to make a sacrifice to prevent
death, brass and lead obeyed. Iron did not, saying that the Sky God had proclaimed that
everything would last forever. To punish iron for its disobedience, it rusts away with time
while brass and lead do not.
A final factor is tied to the widespread belief system that explained iron and copper
production in terms of human procreation. Despite enormous variety in the ways it was
expressed across Africa, the complete transformation of iron or copper ores into shiny
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508
metal during smelting was related to human gestation and birth. Although iron smelting
was a carefully controlled technical operation, it also often involved rituals and song that
simulated significant times in the life of a productive woman, such as marriage,
pregnancy, and birth. The Fipa (Tanzania) adorned and treated a newly built furnace as a
bride who would have many children. The Phoka (Malawi) furnace was perceived as a
“wife” to the iron smelters.
Symbolism and mythology
Furthermore, various parts of furnaces were often given the same names as female body
parts, particularly those related to sexuality and birth. The Shona (Zimbabwe), Chokwe
(Angola), and other cultures were more explicit and built their furnaces as women. They
decorated the walls with breasts and scarification, denoting fertility, and the bloom was
sometimes extracted between leg-like projections. Rituals were also used to consecrate
new iron forges or tools during which relationships were drawn between the hammer (the
most important tool of a smith) and a second wife, such as among the Nyoro (Uganda), or
a child by the Ondulu (Angola). This powerful imagery of fertility and procreation was
evoked in folklore for a wide variety of uses by people in many different social roles.
All peoples have a need to explain the origins of humans and their society. Metals and
metal workers sometimes played significant roles in the stories about such events.
Among the Dogon (Mali), the smith was semidivine and the twin of Nommo, the son of
the creator god and earth, having been created from Nommo’s placenta. When the smith
descended from the sky, he brought three essential ingredients of society: iron, seeds, and
fire. The Mvet (Cameroon) speak of the emergence of humanity from a cosmic motherstone, called Nana Ngawgaw. They relate the creation of life to a stone anvil, Ngawg-Si,
which was related by genealogy to the mother-stone. The Baguirimi (Chad) associate the
origin of human society to a time when an anvil fell from the sky during a primordial
sacrifice. In a song sung by the Yatenga (Burkina Faso), the smith was key to the origin
of life since he freed humans from their natural condition and, although he could not stop
death, he made an ax to build a village and forged a razor to cut umbilical cords.
Smiths were sometimes portrayed as bringing civilization to African societies,
particularly in relation to the advent of royal dynasties. Ndagara, a smith, became the first
king of Karagwe (Tanzania) and made all the royal regalia passed down to his successors.
Similar oral traditions about “smith-kings” are known for the Kongo (Democratic
Republic of the Congo), Twanda (Rwanda), and Rundi (Burundi). For the Babungo
(Cameroon), the founders of the chiefdom were iron smelters who came from a cave
behind a waterfall while carrying special medicines. These medicines allowed the
founders to induce productivity from the earth and make iron blooms and children, that
is, the society’s wealth. Among the Luba (Democratic Republic of the Congo), Kalala
Ilunga, a technologically superior hunter and visitor from the east, competed with
Nkongolo, an uncultured king, for leadership. When Kalala Ilunga won, he introduced
civilization to the Luba; this included bringing a master iron smelter from the east to
teach the Luba how to smelt and forge. In a similar way, the Nupe (Nigeria) culture hero
Tsoede is said to have brought workers of iron and brass with him to teach the locals.
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Women were occasionally linked to introducing metalworking to a society, such as
among the Hausa (Nigeria).
Oral tradition was also used to explain the origins of metallurgy. The Babungo
(Cameroon) explain that iron smithing, in contrast to smelting, started when the ancestor
of smiths fell from the sky or descended on a spider’s web, carrying a hammer, the
“mother-thing” for all. Pieces of this hammer were forged into other hammers of smiths
and represent connections between the earth and the powerful spirits in the sky. The Fipa
(Tanzania) tell how a piece of star, nbanda, fell from the sky into a medicine basket, and
then people knew how to smelt iron. Among the Taberma (Togo), God made humans out
of clay and antelopes out of iron ore. Iron was the exclusive privilege of antelopes. They
owned the first forges, which they lit with their hooves. The antelope is now the sponsor
of any new smith and his forge. For the Bariba (Benin), God gave the knowledge of
smithing to the crab who then gave it to man. The crab lives in the stone anvil at the
forge.
Metal workers
Iron and copper workers were specialists in African societies. Mining, smelting, and
forging were complex tasks, requiring considerable expertise in and control over both
technical knowledge and ritual. Metal workers imparted measured doses of information
about their craft through folklore and songs to explain what they did, why they did it in
particular ways, and how to ensure success through various rules and taboos. Age and
gender played prominent roles in the choices made during metalworking and in the
explanations provided about the activities, including the significant influence of ancestral
spirits, the technical and ritual expertise of elders, the work load of the youth, and the
exclusion of women. Although women often mined iron ore during times of labor
shortage, such as occurred among the Shona (Zimbabwe) and Babungo (Cameroon), they
were almost always excluded from smelting operations, particularly women who were
pregnant or menstruating. If a menstruating woman came by an operating furnace in
Lopanzo (DR of Congo), it would “menstruate” forever and never produce iron. One
exception seems to be among the Barongo (Tanzania), who allowed menstruating women
at a smelt. Prepubescent girls and postmenopausal women were sometimes allowed to
participate in presmelting rituals, or they cooked and transported food to the smelters.
Strong taboos existed to prevent men from having sexual relations prior to a smelt in
order to ensure its success. Such behavior represented infidelity to the furnace; adultery
was often thought to cause miscarriages in pregnant women, as well as furnaces.
Furnaces were usually placed far away from villages to minimize this potential threat.
African iron and copper workers were revered, respected, feared, and/or despised
depending on factors often related to their contributions to the economic foundations of
their society. The metal workers used traditions, including some of what is presented
above, to perpetuate those attitudes, often to ensure a craft monopoly and to control
access to their specialized knowledge. The Banjeli (Togo) spoke of a chief from an ironsmelting lineage who also had rain-making abilities. He was banished at one point, but a
drought developed and worsened. When he was recalled, rain fell. Babungo (Cameroon)
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510
smiths were said to have powerful medicines useful against foreign witches who entered
their fields during planting, as well as against any pollution they left.
In other societies, stories were told to reinforce the more negative images of metal
workers for social, political, and economic purposes. The Kapsiki (Cameroon) said that
smiths were not fully adult. Gurage (Ethiopia) smiths were forbidden to plant or herd
cattle because they would negatively affect the fertility of the earth and the cows. Similar
attitudes prevailed among the Dimi (Ethiopia), where iron workers were not allowed to
be involved in agricultural rituals. Among the Tuareg (Niger), iron workers were
associated with chiefly lineages and groups of warriors, based on the critical objects they
made, although their patrons portrayed them as lazy and liars. Tuareg folklore, however,
related how the society could not function without them.
A considerable amount of African folklore exists involving metallurgy. Some of this is
still alive, but much is fast disappearing as the crafts of iron and copper smelting, in
particular, are lost to modern technology and international trade. Furthermore, few elder
metal workers are still alive who possess the technical and ritual knowledge of metal
production and will share it. Blacksmiths, as well as workers in tin, aluminum, and scrap
metal, still contribute to the local economy of many societies, however, where important
traditions survive and have meaning. New lore often replaces the old, such as the
importance of copper for preventing sickness among the Luba (Democratic Republic of
the Congo).
References
Childs, S.Terry, and David J.Killick. 1993. Indigenous African Metallurgy: Nature and Culture.
Annual Review of Anthropology 22:317–37.
de Maret, Pierre. 1985. The Smith’s Myth and the Origin of Leadership in Central Africa. In
African Iron Working, ed. R. Haaland and R.Shinnie, pp. 73–87. Oslo: Norwegian University
Press.
Herbert, Eugenia. 1984. Red Gold of Africa. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press.
—. 1993. Iron, Gender and Power: Rituals of Transformation in African Societies. Bloomington:
Indiana University Press.
Miller, Duncan, and Nikolaas van der Merwe. 1994. Early Metal Working in Sub-Saharan Africa:
A Review of Recent Research. Journal of African History 34:1–36.
Schmidt, Peter. 1996. The Culture and Technology of African Iron Production. Gainesville, Fla.:
University of Florida Press.
S.TERRY CHILDS
See also Blacksmiths
MOROCCO
Morocco lies in the far northwestern corner of North Africa, a region that comprises the
Maghrib, a designation used by Arab geographers for “the place where the sun sets.” To
the south is the still disputed territory of the western Sahara, once a Spanish colony,
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which still seeks its independence, but has been appropriated by Morocco. Morocco’s
western and northern borders are the Atlantic Ocean and Mediterranean, respectively;
Algeria is to the east.
More of North Africa’s original inhabitants, the Berbers, live here than anywhere else
on the continent, as they were pushed westward by the Arab invasions starting in the
seventh century. It was the Almoravid movement, coming out of Mauritania and
Morocco, that conquered North Africa and southern Spain by 1056 CE. The only country
in North Africa not controlled by the Ottoman Turks, Morocco was one of the earliest
independent nations, having fought off the Portuguese, as well, in 1578. Pushing their
control further south, the Moroccan army destroyed the great Songhay Empire in 1591.
The eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries saw the prominence of the infamous
Barbary Pirates. Although the French had general control over the area in the nineteenth
century, France and Spain formally divided the country in 1912, with Tangier becoming
an international zone. Nevertheless, Morocco’s military powers remained, and it defeated
the Spanish army in 1921. This arrangement stayed in place until the mid 1950s, when
the country became an independent kingdom under Mohammed V. Throughout the late
twentieth century, Morocco grew increasingly democratic, setting up a constitutional
monarchy.
There remain two areas of contention. Spain still controls the cities of Ceuta and
Melilla on the Mediterranean, and Morocco continues to fight the Polisaro, the freedom
fighters of western Sahara. While Morocco occupies most of this territory (despite a
United Nations referendum in 1990), there has not been a final resolution.
Reflecting their early dominance, Berber is still the first language for 30 percent of the
country, while 75 percent speak Arabic, and, as elsewhere, French is the language of
commerce and government. Spanish is still spoken in parts of the country, and
increasingly, English is used. Berbers continue to press for more recognition, especially
in the schools; since 1994, Berber has been a permitted language in the schools.
While Fez and Marrakesh are still recognized as traditional capitals, Rabat is the
international capital, with Casablanca as the financial center. Although Morocco has no
oil deposits, it exports a wide range of minerals (phosphate, lead, zinc, and silver, among
others). The nation has some of the richest farm land in Africa, as well as good fishing.
Moroccan wines are sold worldwide. It has also become highly industrialized with busy
air and sea ports. A thriving tourist industry welcomes many visitors who come for the
beautiful old cities, ceramics, woodwork, and rugs.
Although a constitutional monarchy and firmly Muslim (98 percent of the population),
Morocco has developed as a relatively “liberal” society, with sizeable, and very old,
Jewish and Christian communities. Morocco continues to play an important mediating
role between Europe and the United States, and the Arab world of North Africa and
southwestern Asia.
PHILIP M.PEEK
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MOZAMBIQUE (PEOPLE’S REPUBLIC
OF MOZAMBIQUE)
Located on the coast of southeastern Africa and bordered by Tanzania, Malawi, Zambia,
Zimbabwe, South Africa, and Swaziland, Mozambique is a country with a climate that
ranges from tropical to subtropical. The nation’s population of approximately 19.5
million is composed predominantly of Bantuspeaking groups. Major languages spoken in
the country are Portuguese, Yao, Tubbuka, Batonga, Makua, and Shona. Sixty percent of
the nation practices traditional indigenous religions, and 30 percent is Christian. The
remaining 10 percent are either Muslim or belong to various other religious traditions.
Maputo, Mozambique’s capital and largest city, has a population of 931,000. Although
66 percent of the people live in rural areas, urbanization is increasing.
Mozambique was first ruled by Portugal as part of Portuguese India, but in 1752, a
separate administration was established. After a long liberation struggle, on June 25,
1975, Mozambique, one of the world’s poorest countries, gained its independence after
nearly four hundred years of occupation. FRELIMO, the major freedom movement,
formed the new government, but another group refused to join the government and
continued to wage a tragic and devastating civil war. Unfortunately, the years since
independence have been difficult, both politically and economically, and it was only in
1992 that the nation’s thirty-year period of war was ended with a cease-fire agreement.
The subsequent multiparty elections of 1994 have given the country a renewed sense of
hope that peace and prosperity may finally come to the nation, whose rebuilding has also
been hampered by environmental disasters such as floods.
Mozambique’s natural resources include coal, iron ore, tantalite, fluorite, and timber,
while the agricultural sector produces cotton, tobacco, cashews, sugar, tea, copra, sisal,
and subsistence crops. Principal industries include processed foods, textiles, beverages,
refined oil, chemicals, tobacco, cement, and glass. A major new export is shrimp.
Mozambican women, who played an active role in the struggles against the
Portuguese, have become increasingly involved in the nation’s social causes in the years
since independence. The Organization of Mozambican Women has successfully fought
against gender discrimination and has opened up educational and job opportunities for the
nation’s women. Mozambican women now have laws guarding them against sexual
harassment, as well as protection in divorce, desertion, and child custody. The nation is
also seeking to improve its higher education system.
JENNIFER JOYCE
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MUSIC IN AFRICA: OVERVIEW
Research on musical traditions in Africa requires examination of a complex web of
activity that involves not only music, but all of life. Because music is intertwined with so
many other parts of life in Africa, many studies of social, economic, political, or other
[orientations issues] involve discussion of music. Anthropologists, historians, folklorists,
dance ethnologists, and linguists, as well as ethnomusicologists and musicologists, have
written on aspects of music in Africa. African musicology also has developed into its
own field, concerned with music in itself and also with the role of music and musicians in
African society, the relation of music to other arts in Africa, and issues such as education,
gender, and musical developments in the African diaspora (for an overview of
developments in African musicology, see DjeDje and Carter 1989). Publications that
focus specifically on music in Africa range from overviews of musical features and
traditions of the continent (for instance, Nketia 1974; Bebey 1975; Merriam 1982, Stone
1998) to detailed studies of particular musical traditions.
Overviews of Africa
Researchers have struggled, and continue to struggle, in presenting overviews of music in
Africa. Musical traditions vary even within geographic regions and contemporary
political nations. Differences depend on factors such as physical environments
(influencing, for instance, which materials are available for instrument construction),
social and political structures, religious beliefs, dominant occupations (such as whether
ethnic groups are nomadic or sedentary), musical aesthetics, and foreign influences from
within and outside Africa. Investigators have attempted to classify culture areas
according to these factors as well as according to race and language groups (see, for
instance, Murdock 1959, Greenberg 1959; Merriam 1982; Kubik 1994), yet most
recognize that generalizations break down as soon as particular traditions are examined.
Africa often is divided into at least two areas: North Africa and sub-Saharan Africa
(Merriam 1982, 61; Nketia 1974, 3). Predominantly reflecting Arab influence, though
also bearing some influences from East and West Africa, musical traditions of North
Africa frequently are considered in studies of the Middle East or Mediterranean rather
than in studies of Africa. Several recent studies on Africa, however, have included
discussions of North Africa (Kebede 1982; Stone 1998; DjeDje 1999). Music of white
settlers in South Africa sometimes is also excluded from general writings on music of
Africa, again due to its development through predominantly European rather than
indigenous African influences.
Alan Merriam, in his work on Africa, divides the continent into several areas:
Bushman-Hottentot, East Africa, East Horn, Central Africa, West Coast, Sudan Desert
(divided into two areas, Sudan and Desert), and North Coast (Merriam 1982, 99). Other
scholars recognize similar culture areas, with the following changes: Khoisan is preferred
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to the term Bushman-Hottentot and is included within the larger area of Southern Africa;
the East Horn is included as part of East Africa; and Sudanic regions are referred to as
Sudanic Africa. Some studies do not separate Sudanic Africa from West Africa, but
divide the area into a savanna belt and a forest belt.
Music of North Africa, as previously noted, is distinguished by its dominant Arab
characteristics. Some musical traditions of Sudanic Africa and coastal areas of East
Africa also demonstrate significant Arab influence, though generally mixed with
indigenous African traditions. West Africa is known for its dominance of large drum
ensembles and “hot” rhythms, Central Africa for a combination of smaller drum groups
and use of a variety of other types of instruments, and Southern Africa for thicktextured
vocal traditions in addition to instrumental ensembles (for a discussion of these areas, see
Merriam 1982, 97–100). Certain areas and ethnic groups are sometimes are discussed
separately due to their distinctive histories or musical styles. These include Ethiopia,
Madagascar, the so-called Pygmy peoples of Central Africa, and the Khoisan peoples of
Southern Africa (Kebede 1982 offers information on these and other areas of Africa).
While nation states cannot be used as cultural units for considering traditional African
music, as ethnic groups often are spread over two or more nations, they have been used as
units for considering popular music (for discussions of African popular music, see
Manuel 1988 and entries on Africa in Broughton et al., 1999). Some countries, such as
the Democratic Republic of Congo, have become particularly known for their popular
musical traditions.
Characteristics of Music in Africa
Traditional and contemporary musical genres co-exist in Africa today. Traditional music
often is defined as music performed by groups linked by factors such as kinship,
ethnicity, and cultural beliefs. Contemporary music is music performed by groups linked
through more contemporary factors such as urban spaces and nation states. Both
traditional and contemporary music are dynamic traditions, for music in Africa has
always been characterized by variation and transformation. While contemporary genres
have emerged in response to modern social and political developments, traditional genres
also continue to thrive and are being transformed to fit into modern settings.
Many writings on Africa focus predominantly on traditional musics. Although
traditions vary across the continent, researchers note that many do share certain
characteristics. These characteristics relate both to the relationship of music to other
aspects of culture and to music itself. In discussing the music and in classifying musical
instruments, scholars have tended to use Western musical concepts and terminology,
though recognizing that African peoples have different concepts and terminologies
relating to their music.
Traditional music in Africa frequently serves as part of daily life and rituals. Much
music originally was associated with kingdoms or religious ceremonies, accompanied
work, or announced events such as births, deaths, and wars. Today, music often remains a
central aspect of funerals, festivals, and religious celebrations. However, in contemporary
contexts, performances may combine elements from various traditional contexts and may
be played outside any of these contexts.
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African music usually is practiced in conjunction with other arts, such as dance or
drama. African arts rarely can be considered as distinct elements, for they often function
together as a unified whole. An instrumental performance, thus, may also involve singing
and dancing (the videos on Africa in the JVC Video Anthologies of music and dance are
useful resources for those interested in viewing different music and dance traditions). As
various researchers have pointed out, some African languages do not even distinguish
between types of music or differentiate music from other arts. Ruth Stone notes, for
instance, that the Kpelle people of Liberia use the same word, sang, to describe wellexecuted dance movements, sung phrases, and drumming (Stone 1998, 7).
Kenyan musicians perform
contemporary and traditional songs in
Nairobi, Kenya. Photo © Hal Noss,
http://www.halnoss.com/.
Many African musical events are communal. Although particular musicians may be
singled out as master performers, all individuals present at an event might participate by
playing accom-panying instruments, singing, clapping, or dancing. Ewe musical
performances at funerals in Ghana, for example, often involve one or more master
drummers, various accompanying drummers, and a bellplayer. In addition, individuals
from the community join by playing rattles, singing, and dancing.
Ensemble organization is structured in various ways in Africa, depending on the
combination of instruments involved and on personal and group aesthetics. Chopi
xylophone orchestra music of southeast Africa involves xylophones and xylophone
players. In other regions of Africa, however, one or a few xylophones may be combined
with drums or other instruments. Because much music is communal, often more than one
musician is involved. Nevertheless, solo performances by individuals also may be heard.
While scholars note the dominant use of drums and complex rhythmic structures in
some regions of Africa, and particularly in West Africa, African musical traditions
demonstrate use of a wide range of instruments and interest in melodies as well as
rhythms. Instruments range from membranophones (drums with stretched membranes)
and idiophones (such as bells, rattles, xylophones, lamellophones, and slit-drums) to
chordophones (including musical bows, fiddles, harps, lutes, lyres, and zithers) and
aerophones (flutes and horns). Much contemporary music also includes electrophones
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(such as electric guitars and keyboards). The number of melodic instruments, also
including voice, and the frequency with which they are performed together and with
nonmelodic instruments, demonstrate the importance of melody in Africa. When patterns
of drum tones are used to imitate spoken language in some regions of Africa, such as in
some music of the Ewe of Ghana and the Baganda of Uganda, these patterns also often
sound melodic.
A member of the band Kambazithe
plays on a traditional xylophone in
Malawi. Photo © Hal Noss,
http://www.halnoss.com/.
Much vocal music uses what J.H.Kwabena Nketia has called “homophonic
parallelism,” involving parallel movement in intervals of thirds, fourths, or fifths (Nketia
1974, 161–2). Some vocal music in Africa, including the iscathamiya style made famous
by groups like Ladysmith Black Mambazo, is based on thick homophonic texture include
in parentheses: (the term iscathamiya denotes the dance movements that accompany the
vocal harmonies; see Allingham 1994, 383). Researchers differ in their opinions as to
whether or not homophony is indigenous to certain parts of Africa, for some homophony
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reflects the influence of Christian church music introduced by missionaries. Researchers
often note the prevalence of pentatonic scales in African musical traditions, but other
scales also may be used (for a discussion of vocal melody and polyphony, see Nketia
1974, 147–67). Vocal music also may involve other vocal effects, such as the mimicking
of animals and birds, and, as amongst the so-called Pygmy peoples of Central Africa,
vocal hocketing (the combining of short musical patterns, generally performed by
different musicians, to create a lengthier and unified composition) and yodeling
techniques.
Call-and-response forms are prevalent in many parts of Africa. Call-and-response
occurs both in instrumental and vocal music, and between unequal and equal numbers of
performers. When call and response is performed between a soloist and a chorus, the
soloist frequently is provided freedom to improvise while the chorus repeats the same
response after each solo. This type of interaction demonstrates two other important
characteristics associated with much music in Africa: repetition and improvisation. While
much music involves repeated phrases or patterns, improvisation (of all musicians or at
least of solo or leading musicians) is also highly valued.
Traditionally, much African music was not notated, but was passed on orally from
generation to generation through musical apprenticeships or observation of professionals
by young musicians. Some musicians and scholars now have transcribed traditional
songs, and composers are notating new compositions.
Continued Transformation
Although elements that characterize much music of Africa have been identified, it is
impossible to provide an accurate general definition of so-called African music. One
definition cannot describe all the musical traditions of such a large continent, traditions
that are so complex structurally and that serve so many functions in African cultures.
Furthermore, as already noted, different musical traditions in Africa continue to evolve
and blend with musical influences from other parts of Africa and from outside Africa.
Traditional musics reflect the influence of African ethnic groups upon each other and, in
many regions, influence from the Arab world, Europe, and Asia. Increased radio and
television broadcasting, production of cassettes, compact discs, and video recordings, and
travel to other regions and countries for performances has led to continued musical
experimentation, adaptation, and creation on the continent. Contemporary productions
range from Western-style art forms to pop fusions that incorporate elements from around
the world, often with heavy influence from the Americas.
Attention must also be drawn to the role of African musicians. Scholars increasingly
are focusing on the musicians composing and performing music in Africa, rather than on
just the music they produce (DjeDje 1982; Stone 1998). Traditionally, African musicians
have served in many roles, including as oral historians, educators, political mediators, and
entertainers. Contemporary musicians continue to serve in these capacities. Musicians
such as the Nigerian Fela Anikulapo Kuti are known not only for producing music for
entertainment but also for using music as a tool for social and political commentary.
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References
Allingham, Rob. 1994. Township Jive: From Pennywhistle to Bubblegum: The Music of South
Africa. In World Music: The Rough Guide, ed. Simon Broughton, Mark Ellingham, David
Muddyman, and Richard Trillo. London: Rough Guides.
Bebey, Francis. 1975. African Music: A People’s Art. New York: Lawrence Hill Books.
Broughton, Simon, et al. 1999. World Music: The Rough Guide. Vol. I. London: Rough Guides.
DjeDje, Jacqueline Cogdell. 1982. The Concept of Patronage: An Examination of Hausa and
Dagomba One-String Fiddle Traditions. Journal of Africa Studies 9, no. 3:155–63.
DjeDje, Jacqueline Cogdell, ed. 1999. Turn Up the Volume! A Celebration of African Music. Los
Angeles: UCLA Fowler Museum of Cultural History.
DjeDje, Jacqueline Cogdell, and William G.Carter. 1989. African Musicology: An Assessment of
the Field. In African Musicology: Current Trends, Vol. I, ed. Jacqueline Cogdell DjeDje and
William G.Carter. Atlanta Ga. Crossroads Press, African Studies Association, UCLA.
Greenberg, Joseph H. 1959. Africa as a Linguistic Area. In Continuity and Change in African
Cultures, ed. William R.Bascom and Melville J.Herskovits. Chicago: The University of Chicago
Press.
The JVC Video Anthology of World Music and Dance, 1990. Rounder Records.
The JVC/Smithsonian Folkways Video Anthology of Music and Dance. 1995. Multicultural Media.
Kebede, Ashenafi. 1982. Roots of Black Music. The Vocal, Instrumental, and Dance Heritage of
Africa and Black America. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall.
Kubik, Gerhard. 1994. Theory of African Music, Vol I. Wilhelmshaven, Germany: Florian Noetzel
Verlag.
Manuel, Peter. 1988. Popular Music of the Non-Western World’. An Introductory Survey. New
York: Oxford University Press.
Merriam, Alan P. 1982. African Music in Perspective. New York: Garland.
Murdock, George Peter. 1959. Africa: Its Peoples and Their Culture History. New York: McGrawHill.
Nketia, J.H.Kwabena. 1974. The Music of Africa. New York: Norton.
Stone, Ruth. 1998. African Music in a Constellation of Arts. In Africa: The Garland Encyclopedia
of World Music, ed. Ruth M. Stone. New York: Garland.
Wachsmann, Klaus P., ed. 1971. Essays on Music and History in Africa. Evanston, 111.
Northwestern University Press.
KATHLEEN JENABU NOSS
The author would like to thank Dr. Jacqueline Cogdell DjeDje for her suggestions
during the writing of this entry.
See also Dialogic Performances; Musical Instruments: Focus on Namibia;
Performance in Africa
MUSIC: AFRICAN MUSICAL
TRADITIONS IN THE UNITED STATES
To the perceptive observer, reminders of African cultures echo throughout American life.
Body language, verbal patterns, styles of social interaction, dress, color preferences,
foodways and, particularly, music and dance, all bear witness to the persistence and
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vitality of traditions with roots in African cultures. American music draws most heavily
from the Savannah region of West Africa (including Mali, Senegal, Gambia, and Burkina
Faso). But, whether viewed as retentions, modifications, or extensions, African music
traditions are part of a dynamic African American culture and, like all traditional
expression, must adapt to the changing needs of the communities which sustain them.
African American music embraces change, but it also consistently refers back to deeply
held and traditional values, aesthetic choices, and rules of performance that have
provided structure, style, and meaning for African American creativity for generations.
A Group Activity
Both African and African American music have been characterized as a group activity,
collective or communal in nature, and as an aspect of daily life, connected with a wide
range of social activities. Secondly, African and African American–derived music
commonly employ antiphonal structures, particularly patterns of overlapping call-andresponse, which can be found in religious songs, worksongs, gamesongs, and by
extension, blues, jazz, and even dance performance. Call and response comes in many
forms: a solo voice and responding chorus, a solo voice and the answering voice of an
instrument, an instrumental solo and the supporting instrumental voices of a jump band,
or a solo dancer or couple supported by the energy of a band and dance hall community.
Antiphony allows self-expression within a communal or participatory context, setting
boundaries for individual creativity within traditional norms. Antiphonal patterns provide
group support, which allows for improvisation. Whether in a jazz combo or at a corn
shucking party, improvisation connects with antiphony as the call-and-response form
suits the criteria of collective participation.
Multiple Rhythms
The interactive participatory nature of African-derived performance also dovetails with
the use of multiple rhythms. While polyrhythms may be found in the performance of a
solo blues guitarist, they are more common in group performance. Such rhythmic
complexity underlies common practices such as keeping a vocal line independent of, yet
connected to, instrumental backing, or dancing different rhythms with different parts of
the body. This ability to work with multiple rhythms separates West African music
tradition from Western European tradition and is found to some degree throughout the
African-Atlantic diaspora. African instrumental music also tends to employ a percussive
attack and a variety of techniques for rhythmic variations such as hitting the body of an
instrument, or, in the case of stringed instruments, stopping notes by dampening the
sound with one’s hands, creating rhythmic tension by abruptly cutting off the sound.
Musicians should be sophisticated enough to play off the beat, on the beat, around the
beat, or against the beat. The use of polyrhythms, as well as the interactive nature of
African American music, allows for such rhythmic dialogue and helps create the tension
of suspending the beat or pushing it forward, contributing to the overall propulsive feel of
African American dance music.
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In contrast to European preferences for clear tones, African musicians draw on a wide
tonal range, both instrumentally and vocally, using sounds derived from the community
soundscape to reflect and express life through sound. This auditory range includes
buzzing, burred tonalities, sizzles, rasps, moans, groans, shouts—all of which add up to a
nearly tactile aesthetic, often described in terms of feeling. Feeling encompasses the
range of human emotions expressed in sound—particularly, those performed on talking
instruments—guitars, harmonica, saxophone, trumpet—but it also refers to physically
feeling sound with one’s body as well as one’s ears. African American music also
employs a wide tonal spectrum and, tellingly, African American musicians have greatly
expanded the tonal properties of various instruments from the harmonica to the
saxophone.
Just as musicians may literally play with the rhythm or the beat, they also play with
the pitch, sliding up to or down to a note or employing various pitchbending techniques
to work within a system of micro tones different from European scales. It is not just one
or two notes that can be “worried,” but almost any note or pitch. Musicians playing in
African American style “worry” or play around with time and pitch as well as timbre to
successfully communicate feeling. Moreover, African vocal and instrumental music often
use the same language. The well-known talking drums, in conjunction with West Africa’s
tonal languages, allow drums to simulate speech. In the Americas, instruments “talk” as
well, both in sacred instrumental music and the blues. For example, the United House of
Prayer Bands employ brass instruments, particularly a trombone, along with percussion
to accompany ceremony and induce religious fervor. The Holiness Churches in Florida
have developed a tradition of using electric steel guitars and drums for similar purposes.
In both cases, the key characteristic of performance is the emulation of the human voice.
The range of talking instruments—guitar, banjo, harmonica, trombone, trumpet, pedal
steel guitar, or tuba made to stimulate speech patterns with mutes, plungers and a variety
of playing techniques—testifies to the ongoing preference for this particular African
value in American music.
Instruments
Although drum traditions were suppressed in North America, African preferences for
percussion and rhythm persisted. Pseudo drums included barrels, buckets, plow points, or
other household goods. In place of drums Africans in America used their bodies to
provide rhythms for ceremony and recreation. More recently this had been called
“Hambone,” a combination of songs and improvised verses with complex hand, patting
rhythms, but during slavery, it was often referred to as “patting Juba” or even “dancing
Juba.” Drum traditions were also transposed to string instruments. Prior to the twentieth
century, the most common folk instrument in the United States, and that most commonly
associated with slave and free African American musicians, was the violin or fiddle.
While the standard violin comes from Europe, a remarkable array of similarly bowed
lutes are common to West Africa. These include the Fulani nyanyer, the Hausa kukuma,
the soko from Burkina Faso and the gonge or godgi common to Northern Ghana. These
instruments have one, two, or more strings, are bowed and fretted with the left hand.
Their timbre is generally harsher than the sweeter tone of the European fiddle, and they
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can sound quite like the human voice. Ensembles of bowed instruments and other
percussion instruments provide instrumental backing for vocal song and dance,
foreshadowing the development of the African American string band tradition in which
violin, banjo, and other percussion instruments served as the soundtrack for dances. In the
plantation-era American South, fiddle players sometimes employed what is called a
“straw beater” to hover over the fiddle and beat on the fiddle strings with two lengths of
straw adding a pronounced percussive effect and complicating the rhythm.
Apart from bowed instruments, a remarkable array of string instruments, such as lutes,
lyres, and harps, are also widely used throughout Africa. However, once the guitar
became readily available, it tended to obscure older traditional instruments, and the
availability of mass-produced commercial instruments eroded traditional methods of
construction. Nevertheless, the traditional playing techniques were often transported to
the guitar, and continue to echo through African music today.
African American musicians utilize comparatively short, rhythmic, melodic building
blocks, typical of the savannah region of Africa. These short, rhythmic, melodic phrases,
or riffs, were enhanced by various African techniques such as bending notes, hammering
on, pulling off, damping the strings for rhythmic effect, or hitting on the body of the
instruments. Violin, banjo and later the guitar were all subjected to these Africanderived
techniques, altering European musical ideas and creating distinctly different styles.
Various finger-picking and strumming techniques also drew on African traditions.
Another widely distributed African and African American string instrument is the socalled diddley bow or one-string guitar. Countless blues artists recall making them as
children, a crucial step in the learning process prior to acquiring a standard model. Often
constructed of broom wire, they were characteristically nailed “upside the wall” and
raised by a makeshift bridge at the top and bottom often using a tin can as a resonator.
The playing technique involved using a glass or metal slide, or perhaps a knife. This
method of sliding on the string allowed the player to slide up or down to a note rather
than hitting a pitch dead on. The technique, when translated to the six-string guitar,
allowed the artist to work within the traditional African American scale rather than
depend on fret placement, which corresponded to a European scale. It also allowed the
instrument a greater capacity for emulating the human voice. Moreover, early guitar open
tunings connected the guitar with earlier banjo tunings, and from the banjo back to
Africa.
Yet another popular blues instrument, the harmonica, also exhibits a range of Africanderived playing techniques. African reed instruments such as the Fulani tiorumba or the
bounkam from Burkina Faso produce sounds much like the harmonica. But, unlike the
harmonica, the bounkam is a single reed instrument, which means one needs to use
tongue pressure and mouth shape to bend the notes, to produce a melody. The harmonica
was initially designed to be played in the key or the blow notes and that is how European
or white musicians initially used the instrument. But “cross harp,” which depends on
draw notes rather than the blow notes, was an African American innovation in which the
instrument was literally played backwards. By utilizing note bending and hand cupping,
African Americans reshaped the harmonica to a traditional aesthetic rooted in African
practices. Furthermore, African American style is predicated on the instrument’s ability
to approximate the sound and emotional nuances of the human voice.
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Harmonica riffs also echo vocal traditions such as field hollers. Hollers can be found
throughout Africa and the African diaspora and were once common to the soundscape of
southern agricultural work. Through blues musicians, from Tommy Johnson to Howling
Wolf, they became part of the vocal repertoire of American popular music. Other vocal
techniques suce as falsetto snaps, moaning, the heavy use of melisma, and various
yodeling techniques likewise inform blues, gospel, soul, and rock. Indeed, today’s
popular music draws heavily on African American tradition and, by extension, African
roots. In turn, African music is influenced by both North and South American traditions,
and contemporary technology has increased the rate of change and the range of possible
influences. Nevertheless, African musical traditions remain readily discernible and will
continue to shape world music into the twenty-first century.
References
Charters, Samuel. 1981. The Roots of the Blues: An African Search. New York: Perigee Books.
Chernoff, John Miller. 1979. African Rhythm and African Sensibility: Aesthetics and Social Action
in African Musical Idioms. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Kebebe, Ashenafi. 1995. Roots of Black Music: The Vocal, Instrumental, and Dance Heritage of
Africa and Black America. Trenton, N.J.: Africa World Press.
Maultsby, Portia. 1990. Africanisms in African-American Music. In Africanisms in American
Culture, edited by, Joseph E.Holloway, Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Oliver, Paul. 1970. Savannah Syncopators: African Retentions in the Blues. New York: Stein and
Day, 1970.
BARRY LEE PEARSON
See also Carnival; Diaspora; Polyrhythms; Verbal Arts: African American
MUSIC: ARAB AND JEWISH MUSIC OF
NORTH AFRICA
The musical and dancing traditions of Arabs and Jews in North Africa plays a prominent
role in all walks of life. These traditions represent a conglomerate of tribal, rural, and
urban musical and dancing styles, which display old and new characteristics. They
involve multiple uses, encompassing religious and ritual functions that enhance events
related to annual and life cycles, as well as entertaining purposes. They are partly of a
traditional and folk nature, partly conceived in an artistic sophisticated manner strongly
affiliated with the so-called Andalusian musical and instrumental style, and partly
represent a mixture of traditional and art repertories. A common trait is the predominance
of vocal music—with or without instrumental accompaniment. The latter would include,
in the case of folk music, various drums, rhythmic instruments, and a few melodic
instruments like the flute, the oboe-like (ghaita) and simple stringed instruments, whether
plucked (gunbri) or fretted (rabab and amzad), and, in the case of art music, an ensemble
of a rabab, or violin, kuitra or ‘ud (short-necked lute), and drums.
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In the realm of performance practice, the poet-musician has a uniquely important
position. Those belonging to this class, both male and female, are poetically and
musically gifted and articulate the moods and aspirations of their compatriots. The sung
texts in the whole repertory are either in classical Arabic and Hebrew, in one of the
various local vernacular Arabic and other recognized idioms, or in combinations of
classical and vernacular languages. Texts in classical Arabic, Hebrew, and a large part of
those in two or more idioms or languages exist in written form, but the others, including
women’s songs, are orally transmitted.
In the category that includes written texts, is another salient musical trait—the blurring
of the borderline supposedly separating art and folk modes of expression. Such an
intermingling and interpenetrating of those expressions is to be found mainly in religious
music of both Jews and Muslims.
Religious and “Serious” Music
There is a basic distinction in North African music between two major classes: serious
and light. In Morocco these are called, respectively, klem el-djed and klem el-hazel,
which mean discourse of a religious and ethical nature as opposed to jesting or
lighthearted banter. The musical aspect of these categories should roughly correspond to
“long songs” which are rhythmically free and ornamented, and single out the meaning of
the words and “syllabic melodies,” which are distinguished by strictly measured and
scanned rhythm, short verses, and a limited use of embellishments.
The major genre belonging to the first class is the Maghribian qasida, also called
nashid in Tunisia. The qasida derives from the classical, prestigious poetical genre of the
same name, which was based on a union of meter and rhyme, with the same rhythmical
structure repeated in each line of the poem. Connected essentially with religious
ceremonies, the Maghribian qasida is performed by specialized singers, the qassadin, at
various feasts, celebrations, and specific ceremonies, including those held by the mystic
orders. Its musical rendering can embody a simple form or a very sophisticated one. In a
religious context, it is, as a rule, essentially vocal and simple, but there are cases of
recourse to art secular forms and tunes drawn from the nuba (compoun composition)
repertory, with or without instrumental accompaniment. This way of combining formal
and secular tunes was, despite the devotional and serene approach of the performers,
criticised by certain theologians. On the other hand, the sophisticated rendering of the
qasida and nashid under the same respectful character can be found in events that are not
part of a formal religious context.
A simple form of the genre is widely known through the performance of the class of
itinerant singers called meddah (panegyrist). Their songs, which encompass a great
variety of themes, begin and terminate with a long formula of piety and creed.
Jewish Music
While the musical component of the major Maghribian categories and genres is shared by
male and female Jewish musicians and performers, the distinguishing traits of Jewish
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music should be sought in its linguistic, thematic, and functional particularities. First and
foremost are the liturgical Hebrew poems written by the most famous poets of the Jewish
people, as well as by locally distinguished ones. These include hymns of praise,
imploration, invocations, supplications, lamentations, Jewish holidays, principles of
creed, and moral values. Under the influence of kabbalistic ideas and doctrine, a
ceremony called baqqashot (supplications) was established. The singing of baqqashot is
sophisticated, borrowing its main components from the art of the compound secular form
the nuba, but completely avoiding instrumental accompaniment. In the framework of this
ceremony were introduced dozens of qasida, composed by local poets borrowing their
tunes from Arab qasidas. These themes deal with historical or happy and tragic events
concerning local communities or the Jewish people as a whole. Most of the qasidas exist
in written form and in Arabic or Judeo-Arabic dialects. The Jewish repertory of sung
poetry includes interesting genre called matruz (“embroidered”) in which verses in
Hebrew, Aramaic, Arabic, and Judeo-Arabic are combined in different ways. This genre,
as well as the fact of their sharing an indigenous musical language, may be considered
symbolic of the cultural encounter between Jews and Muslims.
Mystic Orders and Healing Rituals
The mystics of the Muslim world developed complex congregational rituals and spiritual
exercises designed to send participants into religious ecstasy. Music and dance are
essential in this ec-static procedure. The ritual of some North African groups is called
hadra, the name usually given to the North African Sufi ritual that assists adepts to attain
mystical union with God. It may involve extravagant behavior such as tearing one’s
clothing, sitting on hot coals, self-mutilation and exorcism, or magicoreligious heating
rituals.
Such healing rituals are usually performed at special therapeutic hadra, mainly by the
‘Isawiyya, or ‘Isawa, one of the most popular religious confraternities founded by Ahmed
ben ‘Isa (d. 1523); the Hamadisha, a society more aptly described as a community of
exorcists founded by ‘Ali ben Hamdush (16th century); and the Gnawa in Morocco, or
the soudanis, as they are known in Algeria and Tunisia, a brotherhood comprised of
descendants of slaves who placed themselves under the patronage of Bilal, the Prophet’s
black muezzin. Frequently, the ‘Isawa and Ghnawi collaborate in performing therapeutic
hadras, held in the houses of patients in need of a cure for some disease, or seeking
release from an evil spirit that has possessed them.
The chief aim of their hadra is to induce trances in themselves and in the sick in order
to clear a path for certain spirits to pass through the soul and depart from it, that is, to
release psychic blockages. The healing process depends very much on the use of exciting
music and frenzied ecstatic dancing by both healers and patients. The predominance of a
rhythmic component is an essential agent of the stimulation sought. In the Hamadshi
hadra, the melodies played by the oboe-like ghaita usually allude to the particular spirits
that should be pacified or exorcised. In the performance of the Ghnawi hadra, the player
on gunbri (a long-necked lute), is considered as a knowledgeable person who assumes, in
this capacity, the role of the ritual’s master; he also beats the ganga (a big side-drum).
The other musicians of the group are four or six qeraqeb (a pair of iron clappers) players.
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Those musicians also take part in the dancing and can beat a small drum. To the metallic
beat of this ensemble the dancers display their skills in a sequence of acrobatic figures
performed with impressive rapidity. Finally, it should be noted that the effect of the
music is tremendously increased when a subtle gamut of perfumes (incenses) is being
used at a precise moment of the ritual.
Dance
Communal dances, which are more participatory activities than performances,
characterize the sequence of dances of various Berber groups. Women are frequently
included among the large number of participants in the ahidou and ahwash dances. A
sequence of dances, linked to each other and progressing from slow to a more rapid
movement, are frequently performed by mixed groups, either in two lines, one of women
and the other of men, or in a circle with men and women alternating. Standing shoulder to
shoulder or holding hands and bending backward and forward, the performers move
while singing and clapping hands. They are accompanied by an ensemble of frame-drum
(bendir). The bendir players hold the drum horizontally and beat the skin stretched
underneath with an upward movement.
In Algeria, there is an interesting couple dance called saadaoui. The two dancers
perform basically the same patterns, moving to the sounds of the ghaita and the bendir,
without jumping or sliding. In the Algerian Sahara, a ritual dance is performed in front of
men by young girls who have reached puberty. The girls dance in couples facing each
other, their arms engaging in a kind of dialogue.
In another interesting dance, young unmarried Tunisian and Lybian girls perform in
front of young men a “hair” dance, called nakh. Kneeling with their hair loose, the girls
sway, moving the head and upper torso in time to the accompanying music.
Individual dancing is fairly typical of folk dances in urban and semiurban centers. The
dancers usually treat the torso as two separate units, the hips gyrating or shaking. In
Morocco, professional itinerant musician-dancers travel as troupes throughout the
country. They often perform at Marrakesh where, clad in white robes, they dance, sing,
and play on the gunbri and a single-stringed, skin-bellied fiddle.
Women’s Songs
As in other parts of the Islamic world, North African women singing for other women on
various occasions encouraged the emergence and crystallization of songs in which
Muslim and Jewish women could express their world of experiences and the female
values they upheld.
Their songs in the vernacular languages pertain exclusively to the realm of oral
tradition. They reflect themes of everyday life, individual personal experiences, and
various communal happenings. Among the latter, wedding ceremonies and rituals are the
most important. The woman fortifies her spirit by singing to herself, and perhaps to her
infant who absorbs the mother’s confessions, longing, complaints, and dreams. This kind
of singing presents a different, lyrical aspect, virtually not found in men’s singing. The
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songs are sung in public on occasions of a folk nature by either a group or one individual
with a good voice. Particularly notable is the performance of funeral laments and dirges,
which are considered the province of women who excel as keeners.
The female poet-singer draws her poetical material from tradition and from a
repository of themes, idioms, and images, which she adapts to a given situation. The
same holds true for the music, which is always taken from the reserve of traditional
melodies.
Among the widespread female folk lyric genres are the ‘arubi, the mawwal, and the
swing songs; all of them are more or less associated with urban and semiurban life. The
Tunisian ‘arubi is a strophic quatrain song; the Moroccan and Algerian are more flexible
and have five to six lines in a strophe. The themes of both the ‘arubi and mawwal, whose
shorter strophe includes three to six lines, describe sorrow, loneliness, unsatisfied love,
betrayal, separation, and life and death in exile. The performers are usually gifted
nonprofessional women; sometimes two women compete, exchanging improvised verses
bound by strict rhythmic and melodic conventions.
Swing songs represent an important female repertory, which has existed in North
Africa for many centuries. These songs are performed in various local vernacular
languages on the occasion of magic, hagiographic, and games-playing rituals. In their
poetical structure close to the ‘arubi, the swing songs are performed collectively in an
alternating manner in a natural environment (meadow, waterfall, garden); their slow
rhythm is more or less molded to the range of the swaying human form. The form of the
swing songs is a good way of alleviating tension and bringing hearts together.
References
Crapanzano, Vincenzo. 1975. The Hamadsha: A Study in Moroccan Psychiatry. Berkeley:
University of California Press.
Guettat, Mahmud. 1980. La musique classique du Maghreb. Paris: Sindbad Lièvre, Viviane:
Karthala. 1984. Danses du Maghreb d’une rive a l’autre. Paris.
Lachmann, Robert. 1940. Jewish Cantillation and Song in the Isle of Djerba. Jerusalem: Azriel
Press.
Lortat-Jacob, Bernard. 1980. Musique et fêtes au Haut-Atlas. Paris: Mouton/EBESS. Cahiers de
I’Homme.
Schuyler, Philip. 1974. Al-Milhun: The Fusion of Folk and Art Traditions in a Moroccan Song
Poem. Washington, D.C..
Schuyler, Philip. 1984. Berber Professional Musicians in Performance. In Performance Practice.
Ethnomusicological Perspectives, ed. G.Behague, London: Greenwood Press.
Shiloah, Amnon. 1992. Jewish Musical Traditions. Detroit: Wayne State University Press. [Reprint
in paperback 1995].
Shiloah, Amnon. 1995. Music in the World of Islam: A Socio-Cultural Study. London: Scolar Press
Yelles-Chaouche, Mourad. 1996. Les chants de Pescarpolette au Maghreb. Journal of
Mediterranean Studies, 6, no. 1:120–34.
AMNON SHILOAH
See also Maghrib; North Africa
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MUSIC: ATALAKU OF CONGO (ZAIRE)
The term atalaku is said to have come from a Kikongo expression meaning “Look here,
look at me”, and first appears in common parlance in Kinshasa (capital of former Zaire,
today known as the Democratic Republic of the Congo) in the early 1980s. The term is
not only part of an expression associated with a popular music dance step from that
period, but it has also come to be the primary term used to refer to the performing disc
jockeys who sing and shout during the dance sequences which have come to stand for
contemporary Congolese music.
Since the 1970s, most popular dance music in Congo-Zaire has been made up of songs
which have a unique two-part song structure: a slow, lyrical introduction followed by a
fast-paced dance sequence (usually referred to as seben). During the first part of each
song, couples will dance close together with their arms around each other, listening to the
fluid melodies and parallel harmonies of the vocalists. Several minutes into the song,
when the lead guitar and the change in rhythm announce the arrival of the seben, couples
separate, and individuals begin to express themselves as part of a larger, loosely
organized, whole (Tchebwa 1996, 339). The seben’s particula r mo od of control frenzy
is maintained in great part by the atalaku, who, having taken the microphone of one of
the now dancing singers, improvises a careful combination of shouts, melodies, and
various other vocal gymnastics which are intended to drive people in the audience (and
on stage) to dance.
The emergence of the role of atalaku is intimately tied to the presence of urban
traditional styles of music in Kinshasa. Musicians that play ethnic-based traditional music
are often hired to play at funeral parties (matanga) and other important life-cycle
ceremonies, but not many groups can earn a regular income from this kind of work. In the
late 1970s, when some of these groups began to perform in the bars and concert venues
associated with “modern” dance music, they immediately attracted the attention of a
wider urban audience. In 1982, two members of the Zaiko Langa Langa (the flagship
group of the Zairean new wave and the most successful band at the time) approached
several musicians from an urban traditional group named Bana Odeon and asked them if
they wanted to join Zaiko. They would play their signature rhythm on homemade
maracas (an emptied insecticide spray can with soundholes for resonance and hardened
seeds inside), and during the seben they would flood the microphone with the shouts and
proverbs which were a large part of urban traditional music’s appeal.
The first shout they sang began with the phrase “atalaku mama” (“look here, woman”)
and it is from here that these performing disc jockeys were given the name atalaku (in
French animateur). Although shouts have always been a part of popular music in the
Congo region, it was not until this period that they became used in any systematic way.
Most shouts are sung in coded language, either using obscure expressions from one of the
many Kikongo languages in the region or drawing from creative forms of urban slang (on
the Kinshasa youth slang known as hindubill, see Tchebwa 1996). Thus it is not
uncommon, even with very popular shouts, for people to create their own meanings based
on the little they are able to understand. At any given moment there is a pool of favorite
shouts which circulate and from which almost all bands will draw to complete their own
repertoire of shouts. This habit of borrowing shouts (usually from younger, less well-
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known bands) is one of the reasons why Congolese music has been criticized for being
repetitive. Since the early 1980s, shouts have gone from being shouted to being shouted
and sung, to being completely sung, finally culminating in the recent practice of some
lead singers (Koffi Olomide, General Defao, J.P.Buse) who croon shouts with “care”
(atalaku va soin) or “charm” (atalaku va charme).
Today, very few bands in Kinshasa perform without one or more atalaku. Given the
music’s emphasis on a lively stage show, the atalaku has become an indispensable part of
the modern dance band phenomenon. He is an instrumentalist, a vocalist, and a dancer;
but he is most valued for his ability to punctuate the music with the often hysterical
shouts and melodies that guide the audience through the various dance steps that occur in
live performance. The atalaku is interesting not only for his shouts and stage antics which
make him a sort of live-time trickster, but also because the material he uses very often
comes from traditional or at least urban-traditional music forms, and thus his creative
borrowing gives important clues about how traditional forms of cultural knowledge
become tied up in the process of commercialization. Unfortunately, the atalaku’s
associatio n wi traditional music is somewhat of a stigma, and this limits not only his
position within the band hierarchy, but also within society (White 2000). Following the
first atalakus, Nono and Bebe Atalaku (Zaiko Langa Langa), only a handful of musicians
have been able to make a name for themselves in this musical role. They include Diuna
Mumbafu (Empire Bakuba), Ditutala (Choc Stars), Robert Ekokota, and more recently
Tutu Kaludii (Wenge Musica BCBG) and Bill Clinton (Quartier Latin).
The phenomenon of atalaku was certainly influenced by Mobutu’s elaborate
propaganda machine which used “traditional” music and dance from the various regions
of Zaire to sing his praises and those of his one-party state. In this context, the
“animateur” took on a political as well as a musical role (Kapalanga 1989) and various
accounts have discussed the way that the atalaku is implicated in the violence of youth
culture (Biava 1997) and patron-client relations (White 1997). Popular accounts of the
atalaku also relate this phenomenon to the shouts and dances of James Brown, whose
visit to Kinshasa had a huge impact on youth music and dance in the 1970s (Nkashama
1979). If the atalaku is often compared to hip-hop’s “M.C.,” it is probably because he
shouts in a highly percussive manner and combines words and song in an impressive,
often improvised, display of verbal skill. Although the atalaku’s art differs significantly
from that of the M.C., it shows important commonalities with rap and other musics of the
African diaspora, and suggests that the resilience of African contemporary music is, in
part due to its ability to creatively draw from the past.
References
Bemba, Sylvain. 1984. Cinquante am de musique du Congo-Zaire: (1920–1907): De Paul Kamba à
Tabu Lev. Paris: Presence Africaine.
Biaya, T.K. 1997. Kinshasa: Anomie, “ambiance” et violence. In Youth, Street Culture, and Urban
Violence in Africa, ed. Georges Hirault and Pius Adesanmi. pp. 329–82. Proceedings of the
International Symposium, Abidjan, May 1997. Ibadan: Institut Français de Recherche en
Afrique.
Kapalanga, Gazungil Sang’Amin. 1989. Les spectacles d’animation politique en Republique du
Zaire. Louvain-la-Neuve: Cahiers theatre Louvain.
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Lonoh, M.B. 1969. Essai de Cammentaire sur la Musique Congolaise Moderne. Kinshasa:
S.E.I.M.N.C. in collaboration with the Zairean Ministry of Arts and Culture.
Nkashama, P.Ngandu. 1979. Ivresse et Vertige: les nouvelles danses des jeunes au Zaire. L’Afrique
litteraire et artistique 51:94–102.
Tchebwa, Manda. 1996. La Terre de la Chanson: La musique zäiroise hier et aujourd’hoi. Brussels:
Duculot.
White, Bob W. 2000. “Modernity’s Trickster: ‘Dipping’ and ‘Throwing’ in Congolese Popular
Dance Music.” In Research in African Literatures. Vol. 30, no. 4. (Winter): 156–175.
——. 1997. Singing the Sponsor: Popular Music and Micropolitics in Mobutland and After. CAAS
Working Paper Series: Q44 (October): 1–30. Ann Arbor, Michigan: Center for Afroamerican
and African Studies.
ROBERT W.WHITE
See also Dialogic Performances Call-and-Response in African Narrating
MUSIC AND DANCE STYLES OF THE
EWE
The Ewe people live in southeastern Ghana, southern Togo, and southwestern Benin. The
Ewe are said to have migrated to Ghana from more eastern regions. Locke (1992, 11)
suggests the Ewe migrated to Ghana from Nigeria in the sixteenth century, while
Ladzekpo and Ladzekpo (1980, 216) argue that Notsie in Togo served as the final home
of the ancestors of Ghanaian Ewe prior to their move to Ghana in the seventeenth
century. Between the sixteenth and nineteenth centuries, conflicts arose between these
Ewe and other ethnic groups, including the Akan and the Ashanti (Manoukin 1952, 13).
The British became involved in 1874, determined to help the Ewe and other ethnic
groups quiet the Ashanti, who had by then invaded and ransacked Ewe territories.
Although the British signed peace treaties with several ethnic groups, they defeated Ewe
subgroups and established their own rule. In 1899, Ewe territories were divided under the
rule of the British and Germans. After World War I, these territories were split between
the British, in what became Ghana, and the French, in Togo (Manoukin 1952, 13).
Traditionally, the Ewe worked primarily as agriculturalists and fishermen, and many
Ewe in rural areas of Ghana still serve in these capacities. Other professions among the
Ewe include making handicrafts and trading. Land ownership and some political and
religious offices traditionally were passed down patrilineally. Both traditional religious
beliefs and Christianity are practiced in Ewe areas today. Madeline Manoukin describes
three types of supernatural beings: the supreme god Mawo, spirits or trowo, and ancestral
spirits (Manoukin 1952, 46–9). Alfred Ladzekpo and Kobla Ladzekpo discuss worship of
the Afa and Yewe gods among the Anlo Ewe in the Volta Region of Ghana (1980, 218).
Music functions as an integral part of Ewe culture. Today, traditional music ensembles
are heard most often at religious ceremonies and funerals. Instrumental music, singing,
clapping, and dancing usually are performed together, as elements that draw from, and
communicate with, each other, forming a complete whole. While particular musicians
may be chosen as instrumental and vocal soloists, the entire community participates in
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performances by singing choral responses, clapping along to the music, or dancing. Ewe
music and dance styles include Kinka, Atsiagbeko, Brekete, Kete, Gahu, and Bobobo.
Gahu
Gahu is one of the styles most researched by scholars and, already popular among the
Ewe, it is becoming increasingly popular outside Ghana. Bobobo is perhaps unique in the
extent to which it is associated with Christianity, although other styles are also said to
contain Christian elements.
Gahu is a recreational drumming, dance, and song style. According to Ewe drummers
in Kopeyia, in the Volta Region of Ghana, the style, originally called Kokosawa, was
created by the Yoruba in Nigeria. These drummers explain that the Ewe borrowed the
style from the Yoruba, eventually increasing the tempo of the music and changing the
name of the style to Gahu, meaning “money drum.” The Ewe supposedly chose this name
because the costumes for the dancers were so expensive that the dancers could not afford
them. Kobla Ladzekpo and Alan Eder, however, argue that this theory is incorrect. Gahu,
or Agahu, they explain, came from the Egun people of Ketonu in Benin. Known first as
Gunbe, the style spread to the Badagry region of Nigeria and, through Ewe fisherman,
then to Ghana (Ladzekpo and Eder 1992, 181–2). The name Agahu, according to
Ladzekpo and Eder, was given to the style when an airplane flew over a performance of
Gunbe and an individual exclaimed “aga-hun,” meaning “air vessel” or “airplane”
(1992; 183–4). In a more recent work, Christian Horton suggests that Gahu developed
from the style gumbe, which was brought from Jamaica to Sierra Leone by freed slaves
and later spread to other countries (Horton 1999).
The Gahu instrumental ensemble incorporates the following instruments: the gankogui
double bell; the axatse rattle, made by hanging cowry shells or beads on the outside of a
gourd; kagan, kidi, and sogo supporting drums; and the gboba or agboba master drum.
The drums are barrel-shaped instruments of different sizes and pitches. Each
instrumentalist has basic rhythmic patterns upon which he or she may improvise to a
greater or lesser extent. The master drummer is responsible for signaling changes
between rhythmic patterns to the remainder of the ensemble. Communication between
drummers functions as call and response, for the supporting drummers must respond with
the appropriate rhythmic patterns to calls given by the master drummer. The drums thus
communicate in much the same way people converse orally or in written literature.
Furthermore, drum tones are directly related to speech tones. Differing drum tones, which
the drummers produce and alter, using a combination of one or two drumsticks and their
hands, mimic the sound of speech tones, so the drums truly “speak” phrases.
The words that the Ewe in Ghana now associate with the drum variations of Gahu
consist of a mixture of Yoruba, Ewe, and other languages from Benin and Togo. The
drummers in Kopeyia who argue that Gahu originated with the Yoruba note that many of
the Ewe who played Kokosawa did not speak Yoruba. They learned to play the
Kokosawa drum patterns and memorized the Yoruba words associated with these
patterns, but they did not understand the meanings of the words and thus mispronounced
or eventually forgot many words. Tradition did not allow young musicians to ask
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questions of the few elders who did understand Yoruba; thus, knowledge of the correct
pronunciations and meanings of the Yoruba words died with those elders.
The Gahu instrumental ensemble is usually accompanied by call-and-response
singing. The Gahu dance, a circular dance for a group of men and women, also may be
performed.
Bobobo
Bobobo is an Ewe music form that originated in Pando, in the Volta region of Ghana.
Bobobo supposedly was founded by a Christian named Mr. Nuatro and was created as a
style of traditional music that would be accepted in churches. It still is associated with
Christianity, particularly with Christmas. Musical ensembles form before Christmas and
play until after the New Year, each day competing with one another in different villages.
Judges are brought from Pando to judge the groups.
Two bells, called toke, are used for Bobobo; one is considered female and the other
male. Downbeats are added by an adjijiwa. A rattle made by filling a gourd with seeds, or
an axatse rattle with a string that can be tied around the neck, follows the adjijiwa. There
are supposed to be two supporting drums called adzima, playing different rhythms, but
sometimes only one may be used. A tall drum that is hung around the neck, sometimes
substituted by a kagan, also may be played. Traditionally, only one master drum, called
an agodome, was used, but today, three master drums may be played in order to produce
a louder sound. If three drums are used, all drummers play the same variations, each one
signaling changes to the others. Some Bobobo drum patterns correspond to particular
songs, but other patterns may accompany any song. Bobobo songs usually center on love,
death, and the Christian faith.
Traditional Ewe drumming and dance styles continue to be performed frequently in
Ewe regions of Ghana today. The migration of some Ewe to other countries and
increased collaboration among musicians and scholars, with non-Ghanaian musicians
traveling to Ghana to study and Ewe traveling to other regions of the world to live and
perform, has led to Ewe music also being performed quite frequently outside Ghana. Ewe
ensembles, for instance, can be heard practicing and performing on many university
campuses in the United States.1
Notes
1
Portions of this article were published in “Traditions and Transformations: Ewe, Ashanti and
Baganda Drumming, Dance and Song in Contemporary Africa” (Noss 2000). This
information was provided by drummers at the Dagbe Cultural Centre, founded by the late
master drummer Godwin Agbeli, during fieldwork in Ghana in 1997. Unless otherwise
noted, information presented in the remainder of the article is also according to these
drummers.
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References
Horton, Christian Dowu Jayeola. 1999. The Role of the Gumbe in Popular Music and Dance Styles
in Sierra Leone. In Turn Up the Volume! A Celebration of African Music, ed. Jacqueline
Cogdell DjeDje. Los Angeles: UCLA Fowler Museum of Cultural History.
Ladzekpo, Alfred, and Kobla Ladzekpo. 1980. Anlo Ewe Music in Anyako, Volta Region, Ghana.
In Musics of Many Cultures: An Introduction, ed. Elizabeth May, Berkeley: University of
California Press.
Ladzekpo, Kobla, and Alan Eder. 1992. Agahu: Music Across Many Nations. In African
Musicology: Current Trends, ed. Jacqueline Cogdell DjeDje, Vol. 2, Los Angeles: Regents of
the University of California.
Locke, David. 1992. Kpegisu: A War Drum of the Ewe. Tempe, Au: White Cliffs Media Company.
Manoukin, Madeline. 1952. The Ewe-Speaking People of Togoland and the Gold Coast. London:
International African Institute.
Noss, Kathleen. 2000. Traditions and Transformations: Ewe, Ashanti and Baganda Drumming,
Dance and Song in Contemporary Africa. Percussive Notes 38, no. 4:34–8.
KATHLEEN JENAKO NOSS
See also Music; Music in Africa
MUSIC AND DANCE: UGANDA
Uganda displays a diversity of folk performing arts traditions that combine aspects of
music, dance, and drama. The southern kingdom of Buganda is the most thoroughly
studied region, but significant research has also been undertaken in Busoga, Ankole, and
Acholi. This article classifies the instruments of Uganda and outlines some of the major
dance features of the country.
Musical Instruments
Uganda retains an unusually large number of musical instruments and performance
styles, which vary according to region. Musical form is closely tied to linguistic structure,
and speakers of the same language family often share common performance features.
Membranophones:
Drums figure prominently in almost every region of Uganda. In addition to providing the
primary accompaniment for a vari-ety of dance forms, drums were an important part of
the royal regalia in many kingdoms and chiefdoms of East Africa. There are two general
varieties of drums in Uganda—double membrane (often called “Uganda” drums) and
single membrane. Dimensions and construction techniques vary according to region, but
cowhide is widely used for double-membrane drums, while monitor lizard skin is often
used for single-membrane drums (as well as for a variety of string instruments).
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Idiophones:
This class of instruments includes xylophones, lamellaphones (thumb pianos), bells and
clappers (usually worn and activated by dancing), rattles, half gourds, clay pots, and
percussive troughs. The southern Ugandan xylophone complex (found in Buganda and
Busoga), in which multiple artists combine interlocking parts on a single instrument to
create larger, more complex melodies, is one of the best studied of Uganda’s musical
traditions.
Chordophones:
A wide variety of string instruments exist in Uganda, including bow harps, lyres, tube
fiddles, zithers, and musical bows. Poetic recitation by solo performers is most often
accompanied by such instruments, but ensembles are also common. Notable research has
been conducted on the string traditions of Buganda, including the ennanga (bow harp),
endongo (lyre), and ndingidi (tube fiddle).
Aerophones:
Notched flutes, panpipes, transverse flutes, transverse trumpets, end-blown trumpets, and
a variety of small horns are found throughout Uganda. Aerophones are often played
together in sets, with several people combining intricately interlocking parts. The related
traditions of royal transverse trumpet ensembles (amakondere) of the Interlacustrine
kingdoms has been particularly well studied, as have the royal flute ensembles of the
Kabaka of Buganda (called ekibiina ky’abalere).
Dance Traditions
As with Uganda’s music, dance traditions vary widely throughout the country. It is
possible, however, to identify choreographic motifs that prevail in certain areas. In
general, dance formations may constitute lines, circles, or compact groups.
Herbert Bakesigaki performing on
enanga trough zither in the region of
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Kigezi, southwestern Uganda, 1995.
Photo © Wade Patterson.
Members of the Nebbi Community
Adungu Group performing social
dance music on adungu bow harps,
Uganda, 1995. Photo © Wade
Patterson.
Waist-Centered Dances:
Dance traditions of the southern regions of Buganda and Busoga emphasize gyrating
waist movement. Upper body motion is minimized while specific foot patterns create the
desired waist movements, which are further accentuated by cloth and skin adornments
worn around the hips.
Leaping and Stamping Dances:
Western Ugandan dances often accentuate movements that bring the feet into forceful
contact with ground. In Bunyoro, for example, activated rattles worn around the ankles
during the ekitaguriro dance emphasize such action. In the northeast, among the
Karamojong, dances in which performers wearing ankle bells leap in place are common.
Dances Emphasizing Arm, Leg, and Head Movement:
Dances of northern and northwestern Uganda use combinations of arm and leg
movements, which often reflect work-related motion. The use of ankle bells is common,
but foot movements are not generally as pronounced as with the western stamping
dances. Waist movement is usually linear (either front to back or side to side) and not
gyrating, as in southern Uganda. Many of the northern regions (such as Acholi and
Karamoja) also use a variety of head adornments that emphasize subtle neck and head
movements.
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References
Kubik, G. 1964. Xylophone Playing in Southern Uganda. Journal of the Royal Anthropological
Institute 94:138.
Kyagambiddwa, Joseph. 1955. African Music from the Source of the Nile. New York: Frederick
A.Praeger.
Mbabi-Katana, S. 1982. The History of Amakondere (Royal Trumpet Set) of the Interlacustrine
States of East Africa. Kampala: n.p.
Mukasa, Edward G. 1977. A Brief Anthology on Uganda Musical Instruments. Kampala: Ministry
of Culture and Community Development.
p’Bitek, Okot. 1974. Horn of My Love. Nairobi: Heinemann Kenya.
Van Thiel, Paul. 1977. Multi-Tribal Music of Ankole: An Ethnomusicological Study Including a
Glossary of Musical Terms. Belgium: Musee Royal De L’Afrique Centrale.
Wachsmann, K.P. 1971. Musical Instruments in Kiganda Tradition and Their Place in the East
African Scene. In Essays on Music and History in Africa, ed. K.P.Wachsmann, Evanston:
Northwestern University Press.
——. 1950. An Equal-Stepped Tuning in a Ganda Harp. Nature.
WADE PATTERSON
See also Music; Music in Africa
MUSIC: MUSICAL INNOVATION IN
AFRICAN INDEPENDENT CHURCHES
Music and religion are two interrelated sites of cultural production in Africa, as shown in
examples from precolonial to contemporary times. It is, however, within the various
appropriations and manifestations of Christianity in Africa that we find intense creativity
and innovation in sub-Saharan Africa. Important areas of this production of culture
include: music and dance, legends, social ethics, plastic arts, language use and script,
oratory, ethnic and gender relations. Several factors and processes account for the
significant emphasis on music (or the performative) in independent churches in Africa.
For example, in addition to the general affective and symbolic imports of music in ritual
settings, music making in African societies generally aims at a composite or unified
experience; it embraces sound, movement, and verbal and visual arts in spectacular ways.
This comprehensive approach to music is now best illustrated in the musical traditions of
various churches in contemporary Africa. The great variety of musical traditions
encountered in the churches can be attributed also to the appeal of plural musical
traditions, that is, secular or popular musical cultures, which are easily co-opted into the
church repertory. The religious/sacred and secular are, however, not totally separate
domains, as articulated in African systems of thought and daily practice. The close
relationship between the performative and religious traditions in Africa is, therefore, due
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in part to the widespread practice of music as an integrated art form and in part to the
fluid boundaries between the sacred and secular.
Contemporary Christian musical traditions in the independent church, as examined
below, continue and extend these fundamental principles and practices concerning the
nature of music and its relations to other aspects of life and living in Africa.
The Independent Church in Perspective
A multitude of terms and designations are employed interchangeably to refer to
independent churches in Africa, particularly those that integrate beliefs and practices
from the Old and New Testaments and their accompanying indigenous traditions. Some
of these designations are: “spiritual churches,” African Independent Churches, African
Indigenous Churches, and African Initiated Churches (AIC is the acronym for the last
church). These churches are, however, now described simply as “independent,” mainly
because they have gained autonomy or broken away from a mainline or denominational
church, or they have been founded by an independent visionary who had no previous
denominational affiliation. Their emphasis on innovative liturgy and music distinguishes
them also from the older denominations, which increasingly have been adopting the
practices and beliefs associated with the independent churches.
David Barrett, in his seminal texts, outlined the basic features of over six thousand
African independent churches (Barrett 1968, 1971, 1989). In 1986, Bennetta JulesRosette predicted—with the independent church in mind—that, “[b]y the year 2000, it is
expected that Africa will house 351 million Christians, 31.2 percent of the world’s total
Christian population, representing a shift in the center of Christianity from north to
south” (1986, 159–85). The following observations from a chapter, “Indigenous
Expressions of Christianity in Africa,” by Charles Forman sums up the situation of the
African independent church:
The mid-twentieth century has witnessed the most rapid indigenization of Christianity
in Africa… The most radical reinterpretation of the faith and Africanization of forms of
Christianity has taken place, however, not in Roman Catholic or Protestant circles but in
the independent movements initiated by African “prophets.” In some cases the
reinterpretation has been so sweeping as to raise doubts whether the result can still be
called Christian (1967, 122ff).
Music in the Independent Church
Music and the related arts have constituted the core of ritual performance among the
independent churches, from the early stages of their development in the late nineteenth
century to the present. Music remains a vibrant site of cultural production, especially as
the churches strive to keep up with both the old and new and as they (re)define
themselves and justify their existence in relation to the avant-garde, popular culture, and
local politics of culture. These tendencies, articulated succinctly in the areas of music and
visual arts, not only reflect and challenge the vestiges of the past, but they also validate
the realities and complexities of postcolonial identities in Africa.
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Musicians are preparing local and
imported musical instruments to
accompany music and dance in this
Bethel congregation of the Evangelical
Presbyterian Church in New Town,
Accra. Photo © Daniel Avorgbedor.
Mr. T.V.O.Lamptey, former music
director of the nondenominational
Ministry, Joyful Way Incorp. (Ghana)
creates synthesized accompaniment
tracks for independent choral and
church groups in his home music
studio. Photo © Daniel Avorgbedor.
Early accounts of indigenous initiatives in church music are usually traced to the 1815
conversion and resulting songs of Ntsikana Gaba (c. 1780–1828; Dargie 1982 7–28;
Hodgson, 1980). The roots of the current dynamic and intense musical creativity
associated with independent churches can, however, be associated with two fundamental
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sources of influence: local initiative and input from foreign mission work in Africa. A
close interaction between these two sources is partly responsible for the phenomenal
growth and diversity of music in the independent church. (This mutual exchange is often
overlooked in the related literature.) The current situation shows a clear emphasis on
selective integration of indigenous, popular, and innovative musical forms. This
expanded and varied musical diet constitutes a creative response to the colonial and
missionary heritage; it also represents an important process in constructing musical—and
hence cultural—autonomy. This idea of autonomy is, however, best understood in light
of some early missionary efforts that sought to suppress or discourage a wide range of
cultural and musical practices, most of which were labeled “paganistic.” The music and
dance forms concerned were usually those originating, directly or indirectly, from
indigenous recreational or rituals contexts, or from song traditions that encoded insult or
obscene themes.
Even in contemporary postcolonial times, creative musical expressions in some local
congregations are still first reviewed by overseeing foreign and local missionaries, as
reported among the Dinka (Nikkel 2001, 285). It can, however, be misleading to
overemphasize the negative consequences of the suppression of music and customary
practices without acknowledging the important contributions that church missions have
made to the revival, innovation, and adaptation of specific musical and ritual traditions
(for example, Haazen’s Missa Luba became a model for local composers, as reflected in
Cajetan Lunsonga’s Missa Bemba, David Fanshawe’s African Sanctus, and Reverend
Anthony Okelo’s Missa Maleng.)
It is primarily through the agencies or interventions of specific missionary enterprises
that certain innovative musical practices were initiated in mainline and independent
churches in Africa. Today, there are continuing musical interventions in which foreign
mission and musical experts collaborate with local congregations to compose, adapt, and
recontextualize music and dance forms for congregational use. A summary of significant
sources that inform musical creativity and diversity in the independent church is
presented below.
Sources of Influence on Musical Creativity in the Independent
Church in Africa
1. Extant and extinct indigenous or ethnic musical traditions as background
resource. Common features in African musical practices that are emphasized in the
independent church include predominance of percussive texture, call and response,
repetition, emphasis on timbral variety and “pitch-bending” (in contradistinction to pure
or exact pitches, by Western tempered scale standards), polyrhythm (several layers of
rhythm sounded at one time), “offbeat” phrasing, music as integrated art form (i.e.,
combines sound, movement, costume, and verbal and visual arts), active participation and
audience input, music as an integral part of rites of passage and daily life, employment of
three basic timbral levels in drum ensembles, influence of speech tone (especially in tonelanguage societies), inventiveness and improvisational skills, and music as a medium for
social criticism and competition. In addition, spontaneous musical expression (or
invention) is highly characteristic of church independency and autonomy. This
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spontaneity and related traditions of orality are rooted in indigenous practices and are
partly responsible for the ephemeral and anonymous nature often identified with the
printed music of independent churches. Where hymnbooks are compiled, these are
usually quickly superseded by subsequent “editions,” or they simply go out of print. The
unsystematic methods of collecting and assembling, and the low-quality mediums of
preservation, are also responsible for their transient nature. In their efforts to engage and
emphasize indigenous heritage, some congregations study and reproduce existing music
and dance forms in new church contexts. A consistent practice is, however, to rework
existing materials and forms in light of global and local popular practices, and in relation
to the colonial and missionary experiences.
The independent churches emphasize their indigenous musical roots and cultural
traditions differently, both within one congregation and across churches. The various,
shifting ways in which music articulates independency, musical and socialreligious
progress, and postcolonial identity are indicated also in the adoption of hybrid repertories
that transcend indigenous roots (with varying degrees of revision and instrumentation),
music of local composers (i.e., along Western art music models), popular music,
spontaneous compositions by members, and selective continuation of Protestant
hymnody, all of which can be experienced in one congregational service. The heritage of
the African church is thus articulated through the practice of hybrid or plural musical
styles, which ultimately constitute effective and affective mediums for establishing and
communicating autonomy and progress.
2. Initiatives of the Catholic Church, Vatican II, beginning with Pope Paul VI in
1963. These initiatives were later formulated under the theme Musical Indigena: Native
Music and its Possible Use in Liturgy and Proclamation (Overath 1976). Foreign mission
workers actively pursued the adaptation and recreation of locally derived musical
practices, as seen in Missa Luba (1965) by Reverend Father Guido Haazen. Although the
Catholic Church in Africa and elsewhere has often been perceived as a conservative
religious establishment, it has witnessed the development of myriad splinter
congregations (for example, the proliferation of Catholic charismatic groups whose
modes of worship and music share many elements in common with existing independent
churches, as seen the classic case of Kimbaguism, led by Prophet Simon Kimbangu,
1889–1951). The Catholic Church and its semiautonomous laities sponsor workshops on
church music; these workshops are not limited to members.
3. Church music workshops sponsored by All Africa Church Conference, the
World Council of Churches, and by independent congregations.
4. Church and secular music workshops, festivals, and competitions sponsored by
local government agencies, and by local institutions of higher learning. These are a
common feature of postindependence African countries.
5. Workshops by the African regional unit of the traditional media unit of the
International Christian Media Commission to encourage the integration of dance,
drama, and poetry in the liturgy.
6. Christian ethnomusicologists. Ethnomusicologists and local evangelists, who
collaborate to encourage the creation of new music by and for local congregations, draw
on indigenous models.
7. Art music composers. There are imposes, self-taught, or trained in Western
academies, whose repertories and texts orient toward Christian messages. Many of these
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compositions become integral part of popular music genres and transcend denominational
boundaries and hierarchies.
8. Church and Popular Culture Interaction. The situation of church autonomy and
popular music (culture) is a dialectical one, a creative space for the common interchange
and negotiation of musical ideas, with important musical repercussions, as summed up in
the following examples. (The term gospel is employed rather loosely in the African
Christian context to refer to a wide range of music that incorporates evangelistic and
Biblical themes.):
I [have] noted the importance of Christianity not only as a source of
musical inspiration but as a training school for musicians. There can be no
doubt that the Christian religion played a significant role in the
development of highlife music…. Many bands were created in indigenous
churches and were provided with instruments and ready markets in the
process. In a sense, during the late 1970s and the early mid-1980s,
highlife adopted a distinctly religious flavour. (Graham 1988, 104)
[G]ospel music might come from small ensembles like guitar bands, but playing songs
with religious or inspirational content. Several of Nairobi’s most famous stars have gone
from pop to gospel. Joseph Kamaru, a pillar of Kikuyu pop music since the 1960s,
recently disbanded his band and reformed a gospel group. The style is so popular at the
moment that the newspapers have added a top ten weekly gospel chart to their African
and International top ten lists.
[A] growing trend in the Nairobi music industry in the last six years, [is] the solo
gospel singer. While the phenomenon of the solo singer is not new in Nairobi, this
development was made more obvious due to a sudden influx of kiosks selling this music
on cassette. The style became so popular that people began to buy new cassettes instead
of relying on the traditional practice of pirating. Out of this popularity came the
development of professional church musicians in Nairobi (Kidula 1995, 1–16). At the
start of the twenty-first century local gospel music constitutes around 75 percent of the
popular music output in Ghana (Collins 1996, 1503 [reporting on the state of popular
music in Ghana]).
Another important source of influence regards conscious efforts in privileging African
American performance culture, both sacred and secular, within the context of the
worldwide popular culture. (See, for example, Veit Erlmann’s accounts of African
American presence in South African Christian and popular music, beginning in the early
1890s, The Early Social History of Zulu Migrant Workers’ Choral Music in South Africa
1990; Migration and Performance: Zulu Migrant Workers’ Isicathamiya Performance in
South Africa, 1890–1950, 1990; and Nightsong: Performance, Power, and Practice in
South Africa, 1996). The active exchange and symbiotic processes between church and
popular music are illustrated further by an increasingly pervasive culture of cassette
trading and fame surrounding individual musicians. Both the name and several musical
elements identified with juju—a popular Yoruba music genre—explain this symbiosis
very well; soukous, highlife, mbube (e.g., Ladysmith Black Mambazo) and rap are some
of the popular music sounds that are reproduced in the church contexts, often with
techniques of contra facta and parody (i.e., replacing “secular” texts and sound
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configurations with contextually appropriate ones). New converts who were former
popular musicians often bring to the church their talents and skills, thus enriching church
music and bringing it closer to the public domain.
9. Workshop and conference proceedings and independent scholarly works—
including theses in theological institutes—that address the situation of African
culture and Christianity, with emphasis on music, and often with prescriptions. For
example, see Nketia 1958, Weman, 1960; the occasional All-Africa Church Music
Journal, Olson 1971, 61–67, Dargie 1979, 18–32; and the African contributors in
Overath, 1976.
10. Syncretism, Directions, and Conclusions. Almost all published texts dealing
with African Christianity—employ the paradigm of syncretism in characterizing the
constitution and identity of expressive culture in the church. Although syncretism has
served important analytical goals, it falls short of explaining the dynamic and active
negotiations associated with music, ritual, and general performance culture in the
independent churches. Syncretism thus seems to privilege products over important
processes.
New musical products arise when song and dance styles, musical instruments, and the
universe of symbols unique to each ethnic group are reworked together with musical
elements and practices associated with the Western institutions and practices, according
to the tenets of syncretism. The processes and products identified with the independent
African church cannot, however, be easily classified into African and Western, as often
suggested in the related literature. In addition, the music and ritual traditions of these
churches have been so imaginative that they not only transcend the African-Western
dichotomy, but they also challenge the established canons of global Christianity.
(Consider, for example, controversies and debates among charismatics and mainline
churches on the issue of the “Christian” contents of the music, ritual, doctrines, and
beliefs of Bwitism, Kimbaguism, Zulu Zionism, and Cherubim and Serafim [or
Aladura].)
The intensity, frequency, and variety of music encountered in the independent church
depend also on the demographic characteristics of the congregation, the leader’s
background, levels of competition among the churches as they strive to increase
membership, and the general politics of culture of the times. In some mainline churches
such as Methodist, Evangelical Presbyterian (E. P.), Anglican, Baptist, and Pentecostal,
musical independence is cultivated (or achieved) in many ways, but without secession or
formation of a completely separate or independent church. For example, when the E.P.
church of Ghana broke away from the mother E.P. church constellation in the 1980s, the
move was motivated mainly by the need to emphasize the “gifts of the Spirit” and avantgarde music and liturgy. The mother church, however, now co-opts these “new” forms of
music and liturgy, partly to win back dissenting members who left for the new church,
and partly in response to the general wave of renewal in churches all over Africa. Except
for the messages of the song texts and interethnic populations, there are moments when
music, musical instruments, symbolism and ritual, costume, and dance in the independent
church approximate indigenous performance practices. Some of these churches have thus
achieved unique identities, mainly due to their express emphasis on these performance
practices. For example, the Apostolic Revelation Society (founded in 1939 in Ghana by
the late Prophet Charles Koblavi Mawufeame Wovenu Nutornutsi, 1921–1999) adopted
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Ewe music and dance genres, which are recontextualized and renamed globally as
tutudo). In the Church of the Nazarite of Isaiah Shembe (d. 1935), Zulu-Nguni
philosophy, rites of passage, and music have been revised and institutionalized in the
church (Muller 1999). Although many Western sources—as well as innovative forms of
music and dance—have been identified in Nazarite performance practices (Mthethwa
1982/83, 34–7), it is important to pay attention to the processes of incorporation and
translation of indigenous concepts and ideals that inform these practices. For example, a
close study of the music accompanying the reinterpreted Nguni umgonqo puberty rite of
the church shows high preferences for rich timbres, polyrhythmic structures,
heterophonic and percussive textures in the drums and trumpets employed (Muller, 1999,
179ff); these elements are among those often associated with indigenous musical
traditions in Africa. Even in mainline churches elsewhere in Africa, a certain level of
autonomy is realized through a selective integration of indigenous musical instruments
and songs com posed in local popular idioms, as exemplified in the adoption and revised
tuning of adungu (harps) in Catholic churches in the Nebbi district of Uganda.
Women’s leadership roles and musical creativity have been elevated significantly in
the independent churches, as summed up in the examples of Mrs. Grace Tshabalala
(Sundkler 1976, 1978), Prophetess Alice Mulenga Lenshina Lubusha (Jules-Rosette
1974, 1975), the evolution of ebibindwom (song type deriving from indigenous styles) in
the Methodist Church among the Fante of Ghana (Mensah 1960; Williamson 1958, 126–
34), and others. These comments on Dinka Christianity summarize the situation well:
“Women figure more prominently than ever before and are consistently among the most
gifted composers…. Over one-third of the new compositions are by women who, with
many of their menfolk in combat or dead, have played prominent roles in every aspect of
church life” (Nikkel 2001, 303, 313). Finally, it is within the independent churches that
we see an increasing number of women who play lead drums, even if these drums are
modeled after those employed in school and military bands.
Independent churches in Africa provide a fruitful context for researching and
understanding mutual relations between religion, performing arts, and social conditions;
these relations influence, in many significant ways, the continuity, reconstitution, and
reinvention of music and dance, both within and outside of the church. Distinctions
between church and popular musical practices are becoming more difficult to draw, as
both are actively engaged in the production and reproduction of expressive culture in
Africa.
References
All-Africa Church Journal. Nairobi: All-Africa Church Conference.
Barrett, David. 1968. Schism and Renewal in Africa: An Analysis of Six Thousand Contemporary
Religious Movements. Nairobi: Oxford University Press.
——. 1971. African Initiative in Religion: 21 Studies from Eastern and Central Africa. Nairobi:
East African Publishing House.
——. 1989. Rise Up and Walk! Conciliarism and the African Indigenous Churches, 1815–1987: A
Sequel to Schism and Renewal in Africa (1968). Nairobi: Oxford University.
Bond, George, Walton Johnson, and Sheiler Walker, eds. 1979. African Christianity: Patterns of
Religious Continuity. New York: Academic Press.
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Collins, John. 1996. [Untitled news report] West Africa.
Dargie, David. 1979. African Church Music, New and Old. WACC Journal 26:18–32.
——. 1982. The Music of Ntsikana. South African Journal of Musicology 2:7–28.
Erlmann, Veit. 1990. The Early Social History of Zulu Migrant Workes’ Choral Music in South
Africa. Berlin: Arabische Buch.
——. 1990. Migration and Performance: Zulu Migrant Workers’ Isicathamiya Performance in
South Africa, 1890–1950. Ethnomusicology 34:199–220.
——. 1996. Nightsong: Performance, Power, and Practice in South Africa. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press.
Fernandez, James. 1982. Bwiti: An Ethnography of the Religious Imagination in Africa. Princeton,
N.J.: Princeton University Press.
Forman Charles W. 1967. Christianity in the Non-Western World. Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: PrenticeHall.
Graham, Ronnie. 1988. The Da Capo guide to Contemporary African Music. New York: Da Capo
Press.
Hodgson, Janet. 1980. Ntsikana’s Great Hymn: A Xhosa Expression of Christianity in the Early
19th Century Eastern Cape. Cape Town: Centre for African Studies, University of Cape Town.
Jules-Rosette, Bennetta. 1974. Ceremony and Leadership: The Influence of Women in African
Independent Churches. Paper presented at the UCLA African Studies Center colloquium,
“Women and Change in Africa, 1870–1980.”
——. 1975. African Apostles: Ritual and Conversion in the Church of John Maranke. Ithaca N.Y.:
Cornell University Press.
——. 1986. The Influence of Missions on the Rise of Africa’s New Religions: Case Studies from
Central and Southern Africa. In Christian Missionarism and the Alienation of the African Mind,
ed. Ramadan S.Belhag and Yassin A.El-Kabir, 159–185. Tripoli: African Society of Social
Sciences.
Kidula, Jean Ngoya. 1995. The Appropriation of Western Derived Music Styles into Kenyan
Traditions: Case Study of Some Nairobi Christian Musics. Pacific Review of Ethnomusicology
7:1–16.
Mensah, Attah Anan. 1960. The Akan Church Lyric. International Review of Missions (April).
Mthethwa, Bongani. 1984. Western Elements in Shembe’s Religious Dances. In Papers Presented
at the Third and Fourth Symposia on Ethnomusiciology, 1982/1983, ed. Andrew Tracey, 34–37.
Grahamstown: International Library of African Music.
Muller, Carol Ann. 1999. Rituals of Fertility and the Sacrifice of Desire: Nazarite Women’s
Performance in South Africa. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Nikkel, Mark. 2001. Dinka Christianity: The Origins and Development of Christianity among the
Dinka of Sudan with Special Reference to the Songs of Dinka Christians. Nairobi: Paulines
Publications Africa.
Nketia, J.H.Kwabena. 1958. The Contribution of African Culture to Worship. International Review
of Missions 47:267–278.
Olson, Howard S. 1971. African Music in Christian Worship. In African Initiative in Religion: 21
Studies from Eastern and Central Africa. Workshop in Religious Research, University College,
Nairobi, 1967–1968, ed. David Barrett, 61–67. Nairobi: East African Publishing House.
Overath, Johannes, ed. 1976. Musica Indigena: Einheimische Musik und ihre Verwendenung in
Liturgie und Verkundigung. Symposium Musico-Ethnologicum Romae 1975. Rome: CIMS.
Sundkler, Bengt. 1976. Zulu Zion and Some Swazi Zionists. Glasgow: Oxford University Press.
Weman, Henry. 1960. African Music and the Church in Africa. Uppsala: Svenska Institutet for
Missionsforskning.
Williamson, Sydney George. 1958. The Lyric in Fante Methodist Church. Africa 28 (2, April):
126–134.
DANIEL AVORGBEDOR
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See also Music in Africa: Overview; Performance in Africa; Popular Culture
MUSIC: POPULAR DANCE MUSIC IN
CONGO (ZAIRE)
Since the early 1950s, the success of the guitar-based popular dance music of Brazzaville
and Kinshasa has made it a sort of “musica franca” of sub-Saharan Africa. Known by
various names outside of the Congo Region (such as, Congo Jazz, Lingala Music, Congo
Music, La Musique Zairoise, Zairian Rumba, Soukouss), in former Zaire (now the
Democratic Republic of Congo) the music is usually referred to as la musique moderne.
Apart from its particular combination of Afro-Cuban and Afri can dance rhythms,
Congolese popular music is most easily identified by its fluid parallel harmonies and
distinctive layered guitar sound.
Origins
The exact origins of the musical style are difficult to trace, but most historical accounts
explain that the music has drawn inspiration from many sources since its emergence
beginning in the 1930s (Bemba 1984; Lonoh 1969). The earliest forms of popular music
in the region are thought to have emerged in the colonial labor settlements, which were
organized around the newly forming industrial centers at the turn of the century. The
transport industries of Kinshasa (at that time, Leopoldville) and mining interests in
Lubumbashi (then Elizabethville) brought together male laborers and musical traditions
from various parts of Africa (Congo, Rhodesia, Angola, Cameroun, Liberia, Cabinda).
Musicians from this period tell stories about how they used to marvel at the highlife
guitar style of the West African “Coastmen” who came to work in Leopoldville. But this
external presence did not arrive in a musical vacuum. Local musical traditions had
already been transformed through the creation of new urban dance styles such as the
agbaya ring dance or the maringa, which was the first form of partnered dancing in the
region (Martin 1995). The primary influence in modern Congolese music, however, is the
family of Afro-Cuban music, which, after World War I, was becoming increasingly
popular in North America and Western Europe, and which was being marketed in Central
Africa as early as the 1920s on 78” records bearing the label “G.V.” (Graviation Victor).
This early imported music, most of which was Cuban son or son-montuno, had a
profound influence not only on the music of Kinshasa, but also on the various highlife
musics of West Africa and on the “dry” guitar style of urban centers in East Africa and in
the Copperbelt region (White 2002).
According to Kazadi (1979), despite the fact that many Congolese consider Kinshasa
to be the cradle of modern Congolese music, there is reason to believe that the musical
style actually emerged in different places at more or less the same time. If Kinshasa is
today the undisputed center of Congolese (or even Central African) music, it is due not
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only to the city’s size (more than five million people) and cosmopolitan nature, but also
to post colonial policies, which promoted Kinshasa as a part of a larger strategy to
suppress regionalism in other parts of the country. Nonetheless, the history of the musical
style is intimately linked to the history of Kinshasa. People in Kinshasa often say that the
music and the city “grew up” together and that their special relationship is an expression
of what it means to be “modern.” In Kinshasa, it is difficult to separate popular music and
everyday life in the city, especially as it seems that everyone is a musician there, and
everything happens with a song (Tchebwa 1996).
The first people in Kinshasa who were recognized as professional musicians began
playing in the 1930s, animating public spaces and events in the lower income
neighborhoods of Congo’s rapidly growing urban centers. When the first recording
houses (Olympia, Opika, Loningisa) were opened by foreign merchants in the early
1940s, these musicians were recruited and offered individual full-time contracts: Wendo
Kolosov, Adou Elenga, Leon Bukasa, Tino Baroza, Emmanuel d’Oliveira, and Lucie
Eyenga, to mention only a few. When a second generation of musicians came onto the
scene in the 1950s, their newfound success enabled them to break away from the foreignowned recording houses to form independent musical groups of their own. This was the
classical rumba period of the 1950s and 1960s which saw the rise of big band style
orchestras such as Kabasele’s African Jazz, Franco’s O.K. Jazz, and the African Fiesta
groups of Tabu Ley and Dr. Nico. The rivalry that developed between African Jazz and
O.K. Jazz was accentuated by the emergence of two distinct musical styles or “schools,”
one considered modern, sophisticated and romantic (African Jazz) and the other
traditional, raw and erotic (O.K. Jazz). This period was also characterized by increasing
professionalization and a more systematic use of Western instruments such as the
clarinet, the saxophone, and the electric guitar.
The strength of these two musical empires would not be challenged until the late
1960s, when a new generation of musicians emerged. Taking cues primarily from les
Belgicains (Congolese students living in Belgium whose music drew from classic rumba
but also from African American soul music), young musicians in Kinshasa created a new
musical idiom that clearly marked the arrival of a third generation. With the formation of
the youth super group Zaiko Langa Langa in 1969, the Zairian new wave ushered in a
series of stylistic innovations such as the use of drum kits, the distinct two-part song
structure, and the choreographed dancing which appealed widely to a growing urban
youth (Nkashama 1979). Although this period produced a large number of commercially
successful “stars” such as Papa Wemba (Viva la Musica), Pepe Kalle (Empire Bakuba),
and Koffi Olomide (Quartier Latin), it was not until well into the third generation that
Congolese music took on its most commercialized form, that of Congolese dance music
intended for non-Congolese audiences, soukouss. This subcategory of Congolese popular
music was pioneered by Congolese musicians living and working in Europe in the 1980s
who adapted the two-part words/dance song structure by shortening the words part and
extending the dance part, since this was what most pleased non-Congolese audiences in
Europe and North America (White 1998).
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DjoDjo and Lidjo Kwempa of Viva La
Musica. Photo © Seth Cashman.
As Cultural Expression
Popular forms of cultural expression such as music, not only provide valuable
information about larger historical and political processes, but also are windows onto
Kinshasa’s collective soul. Discourse about the two schools (one traditional, one modern)
reveals how local categories of modernity reflect a “double consciousness” (to borrow a
term from Paul Gilroy), and the importance of generational categories shows how
personal identity in Congolese society is often expressed in relation to elders or “spiritual
ancestors” (Tchebwa 1996). The romantic veneer of Congolese music, a music filled with
lyrics about matters of the heart (love, marriage, infidelity, etc.) covers a political subtext,
not only since many songs contain masked political messages, but also because of the
music’s particular form of commercialized praise singing, in which musicians cite the
names of powerful state and commercial elites. Thus the tendency to avoid lyrics that are
perceived as politically engaged is, in part, a function of the need to maintain good patron
client relations, but musicians also sing about love in order to appeal to a wider audience.
Male and female audiences alike express a preference for lyrics that are considered
romantic, and despite an important number of female vocalists since the early years of the
musical style (Abeti Masikini, Mpongo Love, Mbilia Bel), male musicians often compose
songs in which they assume the female voice and sing from what they believe to be a
woman’s point of view.
Recent discussions of popular arts in Africa have called attention to the fact that
“popular” tends to be used as a residual category, applying to all forms of artistic
expression that do not fall neatly into the categories of “elite” or “traditional” (Barber
1987). This observation is important given the undeniable presence of popular arts in
Africa as well as for what these art forms tell us about cultural practice and meaning
(Fabian 1978; Jewsiewicki 1991). After modern music, by far the most important
category of popular music is religious music. In fact, in recent year, as the country has
gone deeper into political and economic crisis, religious music has taken on an
increasingly important role for many Congolese. Religious music ranges from informal
prayer group songs to commercially produced evangelical dance music, which, in some
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cases bears a striking resemblance to the words/dance song structure of modern music, or
what they call the “music of this world.” Variations on the fanfare ensemble (or minimarching band) are used in some local churches (Kimbanguiste, Salvation Army, etc.)
and for various types of lifecycle ceremonies. This style is preferred by those families
that, because of religious convictions or an elevated class status wish to distance
themselves from the stereotypes of witchcraft and backwardness that are often associated
with “traditional” music.
Ethnic-based forms of “traditional” music are often heard at the end-of-mourning
funeral parties (matanga) in Kinshasa. Where families cannot find a group of musicians
who specialize in the music from their home region or ethnic group, sometimes a
prerecorded cassette of this music is used. Groups in this category use traditional
instruments, which are sometimes adapted for use in an urban setting (strings made from
steel belting in tires, metal containers instead of gourds, electric amplifications of some
sort). In some cases, folklore musicians use electric instruments and perform not in
ceremonial circumstances, but in the bars and bistros scattered throughout the city. It was
from these urban traditional groups (such as ana Odeon, Kintweni
National, and later Swede Swede) that the category of tradimoderne was born, a style
whose form draws from “modern” music but whose lyrical-melodic content comes
directly from folklore. Thus, there is a great deal of overlap between what at first seem
like stylistically and analytically distinct categories of popular urban music. What is most
interesting about these locally produced musical styles is the extent to which they are
locally consumed. In fact, it is very uncommon to see or hear foreign music of any kind
in 1990s Kinshasa. Even with regards to rap music, one of the only imported styles that
received regular airplay on local private television, a dynamic local rap scene had
emerged in which young artists infused an increasingly global aesthetic form with local
motifs, meanings, and language (Revue Noire 1996).
References
Barber, Karin. 1987. Popular Arts in Africa. African Studies Review 30, 3:1–78.
Bemba, Sylvain. 1984. Cinquante am de musique du Congo-Zaire: (1920–1907): De Paul Kamba a
Tabu Ley. Paris: Presence Africaine.
Fabian, Johannes. 1978. Popular Culture in Africa: Findings and Conjectures. Africa 48, 4:313–
334.
Jewsiewicki, Bogumil. 1991. Painting in Zaire: From the Invention of the West to the
Representation of Social Self. In African Explores. New York: Center for African Art.
Kazadi wa Mukuna. 1979. The Origin of Zairean Modern Music: A Socio-Economic Aspect.
African Urban Studies. Winter, 6:31–39.
Lonoh, M.B. 1969. Essai de Commentaire sur la Musique Congolaise Moderne. Kinshasa:
S.E.I./A.N.C. in collaboration with the Zairian Ministry of Arts & Culture.
Martin, Phyllis. 1995. Leisure and Society in Colonial Brazzaville. New York: Cambridge
University Press.
Nkashama, P.Ngandu. 1979. Ivresse et Vertige: les nouvelles danses des jeunes au Zaire. L’Afrique
litteraire et artistique 51:94–102.
Revue Noire. 1996. Kinshasa, Zaire. Vol. 21. June/July/August. Paris: Cooperation Francaise.
Tchebwa, Manda. 1996. La terre de la chanson: La musique zaïroise hier et aujourd’hui. Brussels:
Duculot.
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White, Bob W. 2000. Soukouss or Sell-Out? Congolese Popular Dance Music as Cultural
Commodity, in Angelique Haugerud, M.Priscilla Stone and Peter D.Little (eds.), Commodities
and Globalization: Anthropological Perspectives. New York: Rowman and Littlefield. P. 33–
58.
White, Bob W. 2003. Congolese Rumba and Other Cosmopolitanisms, in Bob W.White (ed.),
special issue of Cahiers d’études africaines, XLII (4) 168:663–686.
ROBERT W.WHITE
See also Music: Atalaku of Central Africa
MUSIC: SOUKOUSS
Since the mid 1950s, the popular music of Congo-Zaire has been widely distributed and
sold throughout sub-Saharan Africa and farther abroad (Ewens 1990; Tchebwa 1996).
Over the years this unique musical style has been known by various names outside its
native region: Congo music, Congo jazz, Lingala music, Zairean music, Zairean rumba,
and most recently, soukouss. Soukouss refers to a particular type of Congolese popular
music which was developed by Congolese musicians living in Europe in the 1980s and is
virtually unknown within the Congo itself.
Increasing disillusion with Mobutuist politics, and local perceptions of improved
financial opportunity abroad, led to a rise in the number of Zairians attempting to
emigrate to Europe in the 1980s (especially France, but also Belgium and Great Britain).
Among this new wave of immigrants were a number of professional musicians, a socialoccupational category that had been particularly hard hit not only by the government’s
neglect of the music industry infrastructure, but also by the arrival of cassette technology
and the subsequent flood of music piracy in the region (White 1998). By relocating to
Europe, musicians believed they would have access to state-of-the-art recording
equipment, well-developed distribution networks, and an entirely new consumer audience
that, compared to consumers in Kinshasa, had considerable disposable income.
By this time, Congolese music had already undergone several important stylistic
transformations, most notably the development of a distinct two-part song structure in
which a slow, lyrical introduction is followed by a fast-paced dance sequence.
Responding to their new audience’s preference for dance music, Congolese musicians in
Europe further altered the music by shortening the words, extending the length of the
dance sequence, and speeding up the tempo. This new style, which appealed mainly to
Europeans and non-Congolese Africans, became known as soukouss, a term that was
originally the name of a dance from the late 1960s and said to have come from the French
verb secouer, “to shake.” Groups such as the Soukouss Stars, Kanda Bongo Man, and
Loketo were among the first to win over mostly French audiences from their bases in
Paris, but their touring circuits also included Brussels, London, Montreal, New York, and
many cities in sub-Saharan Africa. The late 1980s saw a flurry of interest and journalistic
writing on Congolese popular music (see for example, The Beat 1989), much of which
tended to blur the distinction between soukouss and classic Zairian rumba.
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Despite its initial success, however, interest in soukouss music in Europe and North
America seemed to wane in the 1990s, especially with the arrival of new Congolese
artists who have strayed from the conventional Congolese format in more innovative
ways (Papa Wemba, Lokua Kanza, J.P.Buse). With a few exceptions (Lokassa va
Mbongo, Daly Kimoko, Gouma Lokito), soukouss musicians are generally unknown in
Kinshasa, where audiences place a great deal of emphasis on remaining close to the local
sources of modern Congolese music.
Congolese guitarist Dizzy Manjeku.
Photo © Seth Cashman.
References
Ewens, Graeme. 1990. Africa O-ye! London: Guiness Books.
Tchebwa, Manda. 1996. La terre de la chanson: la musique zaïrose hier et auiourd’hui. Brussels:
Duculot.
The Beat. 1989. Vol. 8, no. 6, Special issue on Zairian popular music.
White, Bob W. 2000. Soukouss or Sell-Out? Congolese Popular Dance Music as Cultural
Commodity, in Angelique Haugerud, M.Priscilla Stone and Peter D.Little (eds.), Commodities
and Globalization: Anthropological Perspectives. New York: Rowman and Littlefield. pp. 33–
58.
ROBERT W.WHITE
See also Music: Popular Dance Music in Congo (Zaire)
MUSIC: WEST AFRICAN “HIGHLIFE”
The term highlife is an umbrella term for various styles of local transcultural dance that
evolved in Ghana beginning in the late nineteenth century. All involved a fusion of
traditional African musical and performance elements with imported ones from Europe,
America, and the African diaspora.
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The earliest was adaha, which emerged in the 1880s in the Cape Coast area. This
highly syncopated form of local brass band music had its imported origins in the
nineteenth century European and West Indian regimental bands of the colonial forts. A
more indigenous variety of adaha known as Konkoma Highlife appeared in the 1930s,
spreading inland and as far east as the Volta Region (influencing Ewe borborbor music)
and Nigeria.
A second source of highlife evolved just after the turn of the twentieth century, out of
small, low-class, coastal groups that used local percussion instruments and sailors’
instruments (banjo, concertina, and, particularly, guitar). These groups played osibisaaba,
annkadan-mu and yaa amponsah of the Fanti, Sierre Leone–derived asiko, and the
mainline, dagomba, and fireman songs of visiting Liberian Kru seamen. As the coastal
guitar styles moved inland, they became influenced by the music of the Akan seprewa
harp-lute, which resulted in Odonson or Ashanti Blues. Both the coastal and inland styles,
what later came to be called “Palmwine music” (i.e., played in palmwine bars), became
immensely popular from the late 1920s. At this time, artists such as Kwame Asare,
Mireku, Kwesi Menu, and Appiah Adjekum made many recordings.
The umbrella term highlife itself (i.e., “high-class life”) was coined during the 1920s,
when the ballroom dance orchestras of the Ghanaian elite (such as the Excelsior
Orchestra, Cape Coast Sugar Babies, and Jazz Kings) began to orchestrate local Adahas,
street-songs, and palmwine tunes.
After World War II, the large dance orchestras were reduced in size and, pioneered in
the 1950s by E.T.Mensah and the Tempos, played a calypso/swing/Afro-Cubaninfluenced form of dance-band highlife. This became the vogue for other dance bands in
Ghana (Black Beats, Rhythm Aces, Ramblers, Uhuru, Red Spots, Broadway) and in
Nigeria (such as those bands led by Bobby Benson, Victor Olaiya, Rex Lawson,
A.C.Arinze, and Eddie Okunta). The small palmwine groups had meanwhile evolved into
what are called guitar bands. Initiated in 1952 by E.K.Nyame, guitar-band highlife
became the music of the concert party.
E.T.Mensah and his Tempos, Highlife
dance band, 1952–3. Photo © John
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Collins/Bokoor African Popular Music
Archives (BAPMAF).
The concert party is a Ghanaian form of popular drama or comic opera that goes back
to the early twentieth century. In the early days, it was based on imported vaudeville and
was performed in English for the black coastal elite. In 1930 the comedian Bob Johnson
hijacked the genre from the elite and took it into the rural hinterland where he created the
genre’s central “Bob” character, a fusion of the imported black minstrel and the
mischievous trickster hero of Akan folklore, Ananse the Spider. It was with the formation
of E.K.Akan Trio in 1952 that the genre was fully Ghanaianised, with performances
entirely in Akan and, with their guitar band, highlife music replacing the ragtime and
foxtrots of earlier groups. Subsequently, many other guitar bands-cum-concert parties
were formed: Kakaiku’s, Onyina’s, Kwaa Mensah’s, Yamoah’s, the Jaguar Jokers, Dr.
Gyasi’s, the African Brothers, and later, the City Boys, Kumapim Royals, and Obra.
Some members of Kwaa Mensah’s
Concert Party in 1959 (Kwaa is in drag
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with a guitar). Photo © John
Collins/Bokoor African Popular Music
Archives (BAPMAF).
During the 1950s and 1960s, highlife music was supplied mainly through urban dance
bands and more lower-class and rustic-oriented guitar bands, until around 1970, when
offshoots began to appear. Afro-rock and Afro-beat were created by the Ghanaian
members of Osibisa and the Nigerian Fela Anikulapo-Kuti, all of whom were ex-danceband highlife musicians. At the same time “roots” versions of highlife were being
explored by the acoustic guitarist Koo Nimo in Kumasi and Wulomei and other Ga
cultural groups in Accra. During the early 1980s, Burgher highlife, which combines disco
and electronic music with highlife, and was created by Ghanaian musicians who had
settled in Hamburg, Germany during Ghana’s economic decline of the 1970s, became
popular with the youth of Ghana. This decline also resulted in many commercial dance
musicians moving into the Ghanaian separatist Christian churches that allow dance for
worship, thus producing a new genre of highlife, gospel highlife.
References
Agovi, K.E. 1989. The Political Relevance of Ghanaian Highlife Songs Since 1957. Research in
African Literature 20, no. 2.
Bame, K.N. 1985. Come to Laugh: African Traditional Theatre in Ghana. New York: Lillian
Barber Press.
Barber, K., E.J.Collins, and A.Ricard. 1997. West African Popular Theatre. Indiana University
Press/James Currey.
Collins, E.J. 1976. Comic Opera in Ghana. African Arts 9, no. 2: 50–7. Republished 1988. in
Ghanain Literature, ed. R.K.Priebe, pp. 61–72. Greenwood Press; Conn.
——. 1976. Ghanaian Highlife. African Arts 19, No. 1:62–8, 100.
——. 1985. Music Makers of West Africa. Washington, D.C.: Three Continents Press.
——. 1986. E.T.Mensah: The King of Highlife. 1996. London: Off the Record Press. Republished
Accra: Anansesem Press.
——. 1987. Jazz Feedback to Africa. American Music (Sonneck Society Journal) 5, no. 2:176–93.
——. 1992. West African Pop Roots. Philadelphia: Temple University Press.
——. 1996. Highlife Time. Accra: Anansesem Press.
Collins, E.J., and P.Richards. 1989. Popular Music in West Africa. In World Music, Politics and
Social Change, ed. S.Frith, pp. 12–46. Manchester University Press.
Coplan, D. 1978. Go to My Town Cape Coast: The Social History of Ghanaian Highlife. In Eight
Urban Musical Cultures: Tradition and Change, ed. B.Nettl. Urbana: University of Illinois
Press.
Mensah, A.A. 1971–92. Jazz the Round Trip. Jazz Forschung/ Research, Universal Ed. No. 3/4, pp.
124–137. Graz, Germany: International Gesellschaft Fur Jazzforschung.
Sutherland, E. 1970. The Original Bob. Accra: Anowuo Educational Publications.
Yankah, K. 1984. The Akan Highlife Song: A Medium for Cultural Reflection or Deflection?
Research in African Literature 15, no. 4: 568–82.
JOHN COLLINS
See also Concert Parties; Music: Soukouss
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MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS: FOCUS ON
NAMIBIA
Much of the information that exists on musical instruments in Africa describes
instruments as works of art or as objects of scientific study (organological studies). Fewer
studies really look at instruments as extensions of peoples’ lives, as concrete expressions
of philosophy, and personal and societal values. In any society it is important to
understand the elements that give music continued meaning. As Nketia (1998, 14) has
stated, it is important that our goals are not only the “quest for knowledge and
understanding of human beings in Africa as makers and users of music, but also in regard
to practical issues related to music as a language or mode of communication, music as an
object of aesthetic interest, and music as culture.” This entry briefly explores the
congruence and consonance between the values of people and the implicit values of the
music systems, with a special focus on Namibia. The information is based mainly on
research undertaken between 1993 and 2001 and describes current practices in Namibia.
Musical instruments in Africa are imbued with meaning. They are constructed not
only to create musical sounds, but as instruments of communication with people, spirits,
and gods. For this reason, only special trees are selected for the making of drums, and all
over Africa drums for use in important events are always dedicated to the ancestral spirits
or the gods. In similar ways, some instruments are believed to contain the actual spirit of
god or of an important animal. As a general introduction, musical instruments will be
described in terms of the manner in which sound is produced, commonly referred to as
the Hornböstel-Sachs system (Sachs 1978).
Classification
Chordophones are instruments utilizing strings at tension. Manipulation of the strings by
means of plucking, striking, scraping, or bowing brings forth the sound. The diversity of
different kinds of chordophones in Africa is simply astounding. They range from simple
hunting bows to multiple bows, from lyres, harps, lutes, and guitars to zithers. The
different forms of kora, a harp-lute found in west and northwest Africa, are superb
examples of chordophone development. The music of the kora has found its way into
popular world music. These magnificent instruments may be played solo or as part of a
larger mixed ensemble or orchestra, such as the L’Orchestre Symphonique de la Guinea
Con Akry.
Idiophones are instruments of inherently resonant material where the material itself
produces the sound when shaken, struck, or subjecting the object to friction. African
examples include a huge variety of rattles, sticks, bells, gongs, bottles, iron plaques, slit
(log) drums, lamellaphones, and xylophones. These instruments take on different shapes
and forms depending on the materials available in a certain area. While xylophones (e.g.,
balafon in Senegal and marimba in Mozambique) and lamellaphones (e.g., mbira in
Zimbabwe) are capable of producing melodic and harmonic music, most idiophones
serve to add texture and color to song, dance, and other instruments. Some African
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idiophones are invested with secrecy and special power, only brought out for special
occasions such as healings or exorcisms.
Membranophones are instruments where the sound generator is a stretched membrane
that may be struck, beaten, or rubbed. This includes the many different forms of drums
and mirlitons, which are membranes attached to other instruments’ resonators to create a
buzzing effect. Drums take different shapes and sizes throughout Africa, and may be used
in drum ensembles (most common) or singly. While most drums consist of a wooden
body, some might be made of clay. Some drums have chords attached to the membrane
and the other end of the drum. As these are tightened and loosened by arm pressure, the
pitch of the drum changes when struck. In this way, speech, or voice inflection and
rhythm, can be imitated, hence the term “talking drum” of countries such as Ghana,
Nigeria, Senegal, and others. The compelling sound of drums is vital to most African
dances and is also a means through which one may enter the spirit world through trance
or the dance. Drums also have fertility connotations and, especially in the past, were
often performed during harvest and fertility rites.
Papaya stem flutes. Photo © Minette
Mans.
Aerophones are instruments that utilize the vibration of air to produce sound, for
examples, flutes, trumpets, horns, reeds, whistles, and also, whirling instruments. Very
often, African aerophones were constructed from natural materials such as animal horns
(which could be side-blown or end-blown like a trumpet), or bones, or reeds, or even the
bark of trees. In Namibia, Uganda, and South Africa, for example, there are flute
ensembles where each individual plays only one note in a set sequential turn. The whole
thus creates an extended melody while flautists perform a circular dance. These
performances have much social significance in the metaphoric recreation of egalitarian
spaces for each individual within the total system.
It is important to note that musical instruments in the large and diverse continent of
Africa are used in specific circumstances. Whether used singly or in combination with
other instruments, voice, or dance, musical instruments have their own repertoires and
form part of a greater cognitive schema or constructed musical world. These schemas are
culture-specific, and the relationships between people, their instruments, their dance, and
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their values and beliefs are constructed in unique ways. Yet, there are commonalities
amongst different cultures, for example, certain kinds of instruments, such as drums or
rattles, are typically related to certain kinds of events, rituals, or entertainment. Typically,
instrumental music forms part of a complex understanding of music as part of life, as a
living force that can be utilized for its power and positive influence.
Namibia is a fairly large, arid, and lightly populated country on the southwestern side
of Africa, north of South Africa, and south of Angola. It has, at different times, been a
German and British colony and was later occupied by South Africa. The population is
made up of Khoekhoe-speaking people (e.g., Nama, Damara, and Hai//om), different San
(Bushman) language groups (e.g., Ju/’hoansi, !Kung, Kxoe, Nharo, and ≠Khomani),
different Bantu-speaking groups (e.g., Ovaherero, Owambo, Vakwangali, Valozi,
Batswana, Hambukushu, Vasambyu, Vagciriku, and Ovazimba), and European-based
language groups (e.g., German, Afrikaans, English, and Portuguese). The country is,
therefore, linguistically, culturally, and musically diverse. It has only been politically
independent since 1990. Because of its occupation and dominance by South Africa, very
little research was undertaken on Namibian folklore, and especially limited information is
available on its diverse musical heritage. What follows is a brief generic listing of some
Namibian musical instruments, followed by a discussion on the importance of bows.
Namibian idiophones include ankle rattles, hand-held rattles, and rattles worn around
the upper body; bottle, brush, lamellaphones; a xylophone; percussion plaques of iron and
wood (one of which is attached to the foot and stamped on the ground); concussion bars
of wood; bells; and a scraped calabash idiophone.
Membranophones include tubular conical drums (usually used in sets of two or three),
a clay pot drum, wooden pot drum with wet handheld membrane, friction drums,
mirlitons. Aerophones include end-blown and side-blown animal horns, one with a wax
bulb extension, stopped and unstopped flutes from reed, animal horn, and papaya stems,
with and without finger holes, bullroarers and whistles from bark or metal. One horn with
a wax bulb extension is used to inform people that cattle are being moved.
Chordophones include various forms of bows, single or multiple (pluriarcs), lutes, and
zithers. The importance of the drum in Africa is often expressed as the birth and heartbeat
of Africa, the source of the dance, the sound that draws people together from afar, and it
serves as a metaphor for male-female relations. Yet, in certain parts of the continent, the
bow is far more common. Simply put, if the drum is the symbol for community, the
bow(s) is the symbol of the philosopher and lonely traveler—the sages of the past. In
Namibia and Botswana, where the populations are small but the areas large, arid, and
open, people travel for long distances either alone or in small groups. They are, by and
large, pastoralists who have to move their goat, sheep, and cattle herds from one watering
and grazing spot to another. The herding lifestyle of the past continues in contemporary
times and has contributed to an abundance of bows and other string instruments. It is still
customary for young men to look after the cattle in the long treks. Their only protection
from predators and their solace has always been the bow, providing a weapon as well as a
musical instrument. It is interesting that amongst Khoesan-speaking people of the south,
the generic term for bow, !goma (different orthographies), is a term similar to the generic
Bantu language root term ngoma for drum. But, ngoma refers to far more than just the
drum, as it also includes reference to Life Force, food, dance, first fruits, and more (see
Bjørkvold, 1992; Mans 1997; etc).
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Bows
Musical bows may be performed without or without vocal music as song, praise, and
other percussive or ornamental sounds. Within these songs, one can trace histories of
different groups of people and cultures, as well as the often poignant stories of
individuals. Humorous incidents are retold and stretch the imagination. Within the
narrative songs, one hears about the migrations of people and about ancestors and their
heroic deeds; the texts contain insights about the meanings assigned to many aspects of
life and the hereafter. In nearly all the bow songs in this region, cattle (for the Bantuspeaking peoples) and game, especially eland (for Khoesan-speaking peoples) feature
prominently. Whereas the playing of drums in Africa has traditionally been reserved for
men (with exceptions in southern and south western Africa), bows are quite often played
by women as well as men.
Tjisuta playing omburumbumba. Photo
© Minette Mans.
Various mouth- and gourd-resonated bows are found all over Namibia, Botswana,
southern Angola, and South Africa and are commonly played as boys walk along herding
cattle or sit and rest under a tree. Older men often play for “loneliness” reasons. Some
bows are simply played by inserting one end into the mouth (cheek) and beating the
string with a small stick while creating different overtones by changing the shape of the
buccal cavity (inside mouth). Others are tied with a small piece of sinew or wire to create
two (or more) different lengths of string, giving different tones. When an external
resonator is attached, a more resonant sound can be created. The social significance of
hunting bows (which have dual purpose—hunting and music) and gourd-resonated bows
(only for music) differs.
Hunting bows used as musical instruments may be braced or unbraced and are mouth
resonated. In Namibia these bows are common amongst Bantu-speaking as well as
Khoesan-speaking cultures. Some of these bows are large and may be played by two
persons, in which case they are called n!aoh in Kxoe language. These hunting bows are
often played in a manner that emphasizes rhythm above melody. It is important to note
that these bows are not constructed or played in an identical fashion by all Namibian
cultures. For example, the player’s mouth may surround the wood in the center of the
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bow, or the end of the bow may be inserted into the mouth. Strings may be made of sinew
or of steel, and are usually single, although there is an unusual form of !gomakhas in
northwestern Namibia that is constructed with two metal strings. The second (higher
pitched) string is metaphorically referred to as the female voice, and it provides
sympathetic vibration for the longer (male voice) string.
When playing the long hunting bow, one end is clamped between the toes on the
ground, while the other end is inserted into the mouth. But bows can be played while
seated, lying on one’s back, or while walking, and may be held either vertically in front
of the body or transversely (horizontally). It is more common in San (Bushmen) cultures
to hold the bow vertically and among Khoekhoe and Bantu cultures to hold it
horizontally. In some cases, the bow is used for hunting as well as musical entertainment.
The value that the instrument holds is evident in the care taken to name each part of
the instrument. Special words in each language describe the string, its material, the way it
is tied, the stick with which it is beaten, the wood of the bow, and the parts of the bow.
Music performed on the hunting bow may include narratives, prayers or praise
incantations. The musical use of hunting bows is said to be ancient and filled with
potential power. It may be played before a hunt, when the hunter prays to the spirits of
deceased relatives to obtain help in the hunt (Kxoe). But the bow is also played after a
successful hunt (Kxoe, !Kung, Hai// om) and to give thanks after killing one’s first eland
(Kxoe). It is played for one’s own pleasure and to calm the animals when herding cattle
(Ovazimba, Ovahimba, Ndonga) and for social entertainment (Hai//om, Ovazimba,
Ovahimba, Ndonga). Among some of the people, the bow is far more than mere musical
or hunting instrument, and good playing is powerful enough to ensure a successful hunt.
According to Olivier’s field observations, two or more Ju/’hoansi are not allowed to play
their hunting bows at the same time as it could be dangerous. The men could inadvertently kill each other because they would be musicians, hunters, and animals at the same
time. The scarification ritual that takes place after the first hunt ensures that the hunter’s
body contains n/om that strengthens him and enables him to see the animals. Each of the
players possesses this n/om which may only be used for hunting or to become a shaman.
If they play their bows at the same time the n/om might cause one to kill the other.
The braced, gourd-resonated bow exists among several cultures in Namibia, each
language having its own vernacular name for the instrument. In northwestern regions the
calabash (otjikola), or plastic resonator, is placed on the chest and opened and closed
rhythmically to create different sound effects. In the northeast the resonator is made of a
dried melon, a tortoise shell, a metal tin, or, occasionally, a plastic or wooden bowl. The
placement of the brace that ties off the string at different lengths might differ from player
to player, and culture to culture. It may appear anywhere from about one-fifth of the
string to the middle. Like the larger hunting bows, these bows are also held either
vertically to the front of the player or horizontally at chest level. The string is struck with
a small stick, usually held in the right hand while the left hand holds the bow and creates
partials by touching the string with the nail of the thumb or index finger. In Ovazimba
music there are many vocal sounds such as aspirations, clicks, shouts, and a drone that
enhance the quiet songs and bow playing.
Although not used for hunting, the social circumstances for playing resonated bows
include preparation for the hunt, announcing a successful hunt, praying for the dead,
herding, and entertainment. Interestingly, this bow is also played for seduction because
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(Ju/’hoan) women like good hunters (and, by implication, players of the musical bow)
because they like meat! Hence, the different lifestyles and social circumstances of various
cultural groups are reflected in the songs. Some songs tell tales of hardship and travel.
One song by a master ombulumbumba player, Petrus Tjisuta, tells of walking on the long
road between Johannesburg, South Africa, and Opuwo in Namibia. On the road he finds a
lion sleeping. He pokes at it with his finger. The lion gets such a fright, it jumps up and
runs away. He sings that the music of the bow gave him the courage to chase the lion
away.
In certain circumstances, a bow can be is played by more than one person. The end of
the bow is placed on or in a resonator on the ground. The man holding the bow usually
creates different tones by touching the string, and also plucking the string with his
forefinger, while another man strikes the lower part of the string in a rhythmic pattern
with handheld sticks. Another adds vocals. Up to five people can play one bow, although
three is more common. The end result, with its deep rhythmic bass, can be quite amazing!
A bow with a completely different sound is scraped, not struck or plucked. Its “string”
is made of a strip of palm leaf, and it is played by scraping a small stick across the
notches on the bow in a rhythmic pattern, while, at the same time, placing one’s open
mouth over the strip of leaf to create different timbres. As one of the few instruments
traditionally played by women, it is not surprising that one form of this bow has
associations with the feminine ritual transformation, or “traditional marriage” (ohango),
of Ngandjera (Owambo) people. In times past, when the large gathering of young
“brides” travelled north to Ombalantu for this initiation, some of them played the okaya
gayaga bow while walking the 20 or 25 miles to their destination. Occasionally, a girl
might take a few dance-like steps to the music as they walked, although it is now more
common to be seated when playing. It is generally played when “feeling lonely and
thinking about far-away things,” according to informants. Because it is used for no other
purpose than music, this instrument is not considered to contain the same spiritual power
as a hunting bow, which is one of the reasons it is customary for a woman to play it.
For musical situations where musicians seek more melodic development, pluriarcs are
used. The term pluriarc infers an instrument with several bows with strings attached;
these in turn are tied down over a soundboard on a resonator. In Namibia the most
common form has five bows with attached strings, ranging in size from quite small to
large wooden pluriarcs nearly a meter in total length. The tuning of the strings differs
from area to area, to fit with the tonal organization of the music of that area. For this
reason, it would be a mistake to see all of these instruments as identical. In purpose as
well as music they are as different from another as a guitar from a banjo.
Pluriarc
The four-string Ju/’hoan pluriarc, which is played by women, has metal strings and a
metal resonator. It is accompanied by singing and sometimes by dance and is played for
entertainment, although when dancing and playing healing songs with this pluriarc,
shamans can go into trance. Tradition says that this instrument came to the Nyae Nyae
area in the northeast of Namibia from further south about four generations ago, when a
Ju/hoan couple brought the instrument and its playing technique from the Nharo people.
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The five-string pluriarc goes by different names in different cultures, and this
instrument is played only by men. Among Ovahimba and Ovazimba, the pluriarc
(otjihumba) is a very important instrument for accompanying praise songs (omutandu)—
a form of orature that is fundamental to lifestyle and ancestor remembrance of the people
of this northwestern part of the country. Here, the pluriarc forms a rhythmic ostinato
accompaniment during the praise incantations. This is interspersed with instrumental
solos that expand and vary the basic musical material. This is where the musician
demonstrates his instrumental skill, while in the singing part, it is his poetic skill in
praising ancestors, places, cattle, heroes, and modern day events, that is important. In
Ju/hoan and Hai//om playing, the voice part performs the same melody in imitation of the
pluriarc. Ju/’hoansi relate that their five-string pluriarc originated in the Nyae Nyae area.
Its history is sacralized in a myth about Kxao N//ae, who used the instrument to create his
own inner peace after having tragically killed his wife. The music he played also served
to calm others who might have punished him in revenge.
Lute
Traditionally, young men of that northwestern area played a lute or ramkie. The lute
played amongst Ovazimba, Ovacuvale, and Ovangambwe is called an otjindjalindja. It
has three metal or animal sinew strings, a resonator box, a neck and fingerboard, and the
head is fitted with three tuning pins. The fingerboard has two raised nuts, allowing only a
single change of pitch for each string. The strings are generally plucked or strummed
with the right hand while the left stops and releases the strings. Young men play to
accompany their singing or praise incantations when they are traveling, although the
instrument can be played without song as well. They say that the sound of the
otjindjalindja keeps them company. Some people say it is played by “gamblers” or young
men who take chances. When groups of young men gather to talk, drink, or play games
of chance, this instrument is sometimes passed from one to another and the songs are for
entertainment. Others might join in the music by rhythmically tapping a walking stick on
the ground and creating quiet vocal sounds to accompany the song.
Zither
In Namibia and Botswana there are board and trough zithers of various shapes and sizes
(cf. Norborg 1987). Zithers have been reported among Ju/’hoan, Hambukushu, Batswana,
Sambyu, and Khoekhoe people. The single string of this instrument is scraped (bowed)
with a small bow held in the right hand, while the left touches the string to create partials.
The trough or board to which the string is attached is topped by a loose tin resonator (in
the past, a tortoise shell).
The Ju/’hoan zither is imbued with special meaning, even though it may be played
purely for entertainment as well. Like the other bows, it is played the evening before a
hunt, to announce a successful hunt, or even after an unsuccessful hunt in order to ensure
that the next one will be successful. The musician is said to pray, and the music of the
bow goes up to the god who can help the hunter.
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Musical bows and other stringed instruments in Namibia are some of the ways in
which people use music to pray, to praise, and to create joy and happiness. For these
purposes, stringed instruments are considered very important, even in present times when
urban living is reducing the use of bows. They are instruments that give meaning to life,
and they are a means of communicating with ancestor spirits and gods, animal spirits, and
people. As such, they have always made an important contribution to the spiritual welfare
of the people and deserve an important place in the framework of African folklore. It is
likely that in the future, the use of bows, lutes, and zithers will go into decline and be
replaced with more “modern” instruments such as guitars and violins.
References
Bjørkvold. J-R. 1992. The Muse Within: Creativity and Communication, Song and Play from
Childhood through Maturity. Tran H.Halverson. Aaron Asher Books. New York:
HarperCollins.
Kirby, P.R. 1968/1938. The Musical Instruments of the Native Races of South Africa. 2nd ed.
Johannesburg: Witwatersrand University Press.
Mans, M. 1997. Ongoma! Notes on Namibian Musical Instruments. Windhoek: Gamsberg
Macmillan.
Mans, M., and E.Olivier, (forthcoming). Scientific Report for the Project: The Living Musics and
Dance of Namibia: Exploration, Publication, Education. Prepared for the French Department of
Cooperation and Cultural Affairs in Namibia.
Nketia, J.H.Kwabena. 1998. Africa. The Garland Encyclopedia of Music, pp. 13–73. New York:
Garland.
Norborg, Å. 1987. A Handbook of Musical and Other Sound-Producing Instruments from Namibia
and Botswana. Stockholm: Musikmuseets skrifter 13.
Sachs, S. (Ed.) 1980/1940. The History of Musical Instruments. London: J.M.Dent.
MINETTE MANS
See also Music; Music in Africa
MYTHS: OVERVIEW
The variety of cultures across the African continent offers an equal variety of mythical
narratives of all types and genres. A myth is defined here primarily as a sacred narrative
involving divine, superhuman, or ancestral figures and the processes that have shaped the
world of human observation and experience. The definition addresses content more than
context or form, and the range of examples would include the sometimes comic
etiological narratives told in casual settings, as well as more formalized and even ritual
utterances associated with a restricted or qualified listenership. There are, in practice, few
hard and fast rules for identifying a narrative as a myth rather than a folktale or a legend.
Local terminology may or may not distinguish types of stories that correspond to
recognized global mythical narratives from other sorts (distinctions may involve the
perceived age of the stories as well as their truth value). Context may be the most reliable
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guide: the need for a specialized narrator, a ritual occasion, or other such preconditions
marks the narrative with a significance above and beyond that of the ordinary story. The
requirement of religious belief, rather than literary enjoyment, may also be another useful
criterion, although one not entirely necessary in those parts of the world where myths are
seen principally as the narrative relics of extinct belief systems. In Africa, the term
applies not only to simple etiologies, but to the narrative infrastructure of living belief
systems.
The documentation and description of African myths still leaves much to be desired.
Although some studies have identified themes found across sub-Saharan Africa (for
instance, the story of the origin of death as due to the tardiness of a messenger
[Abrahamsson 1977], or variants on the enfant terrible narrative), they are relatively few
in number, nor are they accompanied by reliable anthologies. The study of regional
groupings is hindered by the language divisions that are a legacy of the colonial era, but
which continue to divide students of neighboring regions. Moreover, the continuing
functionality of African myths raises the question whether specific narratives should be
approached through their Africanness or through their operative context (e.g., huntergatherer narratives, etiologies of divination systems or healing cults, royal rituals).
However, sub-Saharan African offers ample scope for studies in comparative mythology,
be it on a regional level (e.g., among the various peoples of the Niger river) or on the
basis of linguistic affinity (the many Bantu-family languages in southern Africa) or on a
combination of both (e.g., among the several kingdoms of the Great Lakes region).
It may be helpful to distinguish different sorts of myths, occurring in different contexts
and fulfilling different functions: creation myths, charter myths, cult myths, and
etiological narratives. Creation myths, perhaps the most widely recognized type of myth,
tell how the world came into being; charter myths have more social importance and
explain the establishment of human institutions; cult myths explain the origin of specific
beliefs and practices, often invoking the available symbolism of creation myths;
etiological narratives occur in a variety of less formal contexts and reflect attitudes and
interpretations of the teller’s world.
Creation myths of all sorts are found across the continent, in a variety of contexts.
Some are told casually, others are surrounded in ritual secrecy and performed only on
special occasions (e.g., the reroofing of the Kama Bloñ of the Mande [Dieterlen 1955]).
Creator figures tend to exist at a remove from their creation and function most
identifiably in the modern world as guarantors of a world order discernible through
divination (e.g., Mawu-Lisa of the Fon pantheon). The world may have come into being
as an egg, or through the separation of waters, or it simply exists. Many narratives, from
early Egypt to the present, describe the departure of the creator-figure to a home in the
sky: people were ungrateful, people imposed on him, he became old or sick. Within the
general category of creation myths, the actual creation of the land is often less important
than the division of space and the allocation of responsibilities such as the rules of the
world and the regulation of rainfall. The creator-figures themselves appear in all
configurations: as single males or females, as couples, as androgynous beings, and,
occasionally, as partial or half-bodied entities.
More active in the world than the original creators may be the demiurges, the secondgeneration gods, culture heroes, and tricksters. They are the ones whose stories really
establish the parameters of human existence on this planet in every way, from the
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appointment of foodstuffs and modes of production to the rules of kinship, marriage, and
gender relations; they are the ones whose wanderings define the spatial world of their
descendents. Some of these figures emerge on earth without antecedents, such as the
Khoi-San figure of the Mantis, whose family is the prototypical hunter band; others are
descendents of divine figures, such as Nyikang of the Shilluk, who leads his people to
their current home along the Nile. Frequently, some part of the process involves a descent
from heaven on a rope, a chain, or a vine. The culture hero may later return to the earthly
realm, and other adventures may involve a descent into the underworld or the world of
the dead. The numerous individual stories featuring the culture hero may occasionally
form a loose cycle or sequence, as is the case with Lianja of the Mongo.
Culture heroes are rarely ordinary figures; they often share the characteristics of the
trickster, and tricksters in turn show an ability to shape the world as they guide our
perception of it. Tricksters may be human or theriomorphic, or indeterminate. One
widespread type is the spider (Ananse of the Asante, Ture of the Zande, Nden-Bobo in
Cameroon); another is the hare (Leuck in Senegal, Kalulu in Zambia). Tricksters play a
significant role in challenging the established world order or in subverting it; they are
also particularly important in the context of divination systems because they provide a
factor of unpredictability. Ananse the spider brings the sun, the moon, and darkness into
the world while proving his boast to Nyame, the sky-god. In Fon narratives from old
Dahomey (now Benin), the trickster Legba sets brother against brother to bring about the
current regime of uncertain rainfall; in a Yoruba myth of Ifa divination, the trickster Eshu
finds a way for Obatala, the god of divination, to escape the coffin that is fated for him.
The trickster may also serve in the same way as a violation of an interdict or an
accidental transgression to express and explain the difference betwee the world as it is
and the perfect world that might have been.
Charter myths are more human-centered, although they may derive some of their
power from association with creation mythology. Typically, the myths that explain and
justify the establishment of human social institutions deal with migrations and the
progenitors of dynasties. Since the time of Malinowski, it has been accepted that such
myths are a reflection of, and upon, the contemporary society, and that they do not
necessarily preserve ancient traditions; where old lore and modern practice differ, modern
practice will shape the modern narrative. Stories about figures such as Sunjata of the
Manding, or the Bachwezi of the Buganda kingdoms, would be obvious examples of such
charter myths, but the narratives need not be sober and historical. Stories about the origin
of marriage almost always have a humorous tone to them, and stories expressing the
tensions in kin-relations may also play with comic effect.
Cult myths are very specific in their scope and application: they serve to explain and
justify a specific and localized set of beliefs and practices. The extensive literature of the
Ifa divination system among the Yoruba (and beyond) involves a large number of such
narratives, explaining and justifying the methods and practices of divination; the various
Thunder cults of Nigeria, Benin, and the upper Niger offer different narratives, shaped to
the perspective of the believers, to explain the power of their deities. The Bagre ritual of
the LoDagaa of northern Ghana offered an extensive creation narrative to accompany the
ritual practice (the narrative had changed, however, when Jack Goody went back to
record a new version some twenty years after the first). The Sorko explain and justify at
least one possession cult with reference to a nineteenth century Muslim figure who is said
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to have accepted the practice, and Mande hunters’ associations have a number of myths
of origin involving their deities Sanen and Kontron. One might include in this category
the newer narratives that ground world religions such as Islam and Christianity in a
localized form and the various syncretic beliefs that have spread beyond Africa in the
world of the diaspora.
Etiological narratives in general partake of the ordinary folktale and are distinguished
by their subject matter. Such narratives rarely claim profound authority (as would a cult
myth), but reflect popular beliefs about the process of creation while focusing narrative
attention upon a specific feature or institution: the behavior or appearance of certain
animals, the location of geographic features, elements of human behavior. Among
etiological narratives, the topic of sex and the human acquisition of sexual characteristics
and behavior may deserve special mention. Many such narratives are set in the animal
world, where the human parallels can be focused upon specific behaviors or moral
principles.
A significant feature of African mythology is the way in which multiple belief systems
may coexist within a given community. An effective illustration of this flexibility is
found in the corpus of Dahomean narratives (Herskovits and Herskovits 1958) in which
the myths of the different cults (sky-Fa divination, earth, thunder, hunters) may share
characters and protagonists united through projected family relationship, but still follow
their specialized interests. Such polymorphic, nonexclusive belief systems are widespread
and would defy any attempt to reduce a culture’s beliefs to a coherent whole. Another
noteworthy feature is the adaptability of mythical systems and the extent to which beliefs
and practices may change radically in a relatively short span of time.
One particular problem is that of identifying possible influences from imported
religions such as Christianity and Islam. For example, many peoples of southeastern
Africa recount a narrative in which humans attempt to build a tower with which to ascend
the heavens. The motivations vary; the effort is unsuccessful. Is this an echo of the
biblical narrative of the Tower of Babel or simply a similar but unrelated narrative? The
problem has, as yet, no solution, but the question should be asked. The vehicle need not
have been Christianity or Judaism; Islam, present along the coasts of eastern Africa, uses
the same narratives, and, in fact, many of the biblical parallels that missionaries and
others have observed in African mythology may more easily be explained through the
contact with Islam than through diffusion from Egypt or Ethiopia.
The study of African mythology has suffered a number of handicaps. Early collections
were often made by missionaries, colonial administrators, or converts, and show scorn,
distaste, and discomfort for the traditions they document (e.g., Bishop Samuel Johnson’s
History of the Yorubas). In many collections, the seemingly innocuous animal tales are
overrepresented at the expense of more revealing, more problematic, and often more
graphic narratives (the collections of Frobenius and Pettazzoni are exceptions).
Sensitivity on the value of traditional religious belief in distinction to imported
monotheisms has led to an overvaluation of creation figures at the expense of more
significant human actors, and perhaps to an exaggeration of the coherence of traditional
belief. Despite the efforts of collectors such as Leo Frobenius (and perhaps because of his
attempts to link African cultures with classical sources), African mythology has not been
integrated into the study of world mythology, which has shown a greater fascination for
the Indo-European complex and its relations with Middle Eastern religions. Racism and a
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disregard for apparently primitive African cultures explain much of this bias, and the
effects can still be seen in the work of such scholars as Joseph Campbell. Students will
find some useful studies (Werner 1933; Tegnaeus 1950; Abrahamsson 1977; Pelton), but
in some cases, the methodology displaces the material from center stage (de Heusch
1982) and in others (e.g., Griaule 1965), there are serious questions about the underlying
ethnographic basis of the work. Much work remains to be done on all aspects of African
myths.
References
Abrahammson, Hans. 1977. The Origin of Death. (1951). New York: Arno Press.
Bascom, William. 1969. Ifa Divination: Communication Between Gods and Men in West Africa.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press,
de Heusch, Luc. 1982. The Drunken King. Trans. Roy Willis. Bloomington: Indiana University
Press.
Frobenius, Leo. 1921. Atlantis: Volksmärchen und Dichtung Afrikas. 12 vol. Iena: Eugen
Diederichs.
Griaule, Marcel. 1965. Conversations with Ogotemmeli: An Introduction to Dogon Religious Ideas.
International African Institute/ Oxford University Press.
Herskovits, Melville, and Frances Herskovits. 1958. Dahomean Narrative. Evanston 111.:
Northwestern University Press.
Parrinder, Geoffrey. 1986. African Mythology. New York: Peter Bedricks Books.
Pettazzoni, Raffaele. 1948. Miti e leggendi. Vol. 1, Africa. Torino.
Scheub, Harold. 2000. A Dictionary of African Mythology. Oxford University Press.
Tegnaeus, Harry. 1950. Le Héros Civilisateur. Studiathographica Upsaliensia II.
Werner, Alice. 1933. Myths and Legends of the Bantu. London: George Harrup. Repr. Africa:
Myths and Legends. London: Studio, 1995.
STEPHEN BELCHER
See also Cosmology; Epics; History and Cultural Identity: The Chokwe; History
and Folklore: The Luba; History and Religious Rituals: Bemba Traditions
MYTHS: MYTHOLOGY AND SOCIETY
IN MADAGASCAR: A TAÑALA
EXAMPLE
Like Ariadne’s threads stretched between man and the hereafter, Malagasy myths create
necessary connections among the various realms of the universe. The alliance between
the lands of the living and the dead occurs either through a union or a sacrifice. The
Melusinian universal theme of a woman from another world whom the hero weds by
promising to respect a prohibition takes on a special importance in Madagascar. The
Tañala from the Southeast region of this island have developed three myths from this plot
line, all expressing a certain view of the world and society.
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Koto the Bird Hunter
Youngest son of a king, hated by his family, Koto lives on hunting birds in the forest. At
the edge of a lake, he captures a “princess of the sky,” the daughter of the celestial god
Zañahary, whom he marries after having sworn never to drink rum. That night, the
daughter of the god appears suddenly with her servants; Koto’s shelter becomes a royal
palace in the middle of a huge village. Jealous, the brothers—also rivals—of the hero
visit him, bringing rum. They intoxicate Koto, who reveals the origin of his wife.
Princess and riches disappear.
Wandering in the forest, Koto meets an old woman at the intersection of eight roads.
With a fragment of bamboo, he removes the sticky matter that blinds her. She then
reveals to him the road to Zañahary’s village, a path strewn with trials over which Koto
will triumph. He ignores a fat eel’s request to be grilled with salt [a tona eel, the
reincarnation of ancestors of ancient inhabitants of the Eastern coast, but abhored by
today’s nobility], crosses a deep lake filled with crocodiles, lets himself be attacked by a
skeleton, a silver cock, and so on. In the house of the deity, he avoids gold objects and,
thanks to a mosquito, he recognizes his wife among three women who look alike.
Zañahary grants him his daughter’s hand. She brings a chicken with her which she lets
nibble some paddy rice. The rice that Zañahary had refused to give to the young people
thus arrives on earth.
On their way to visit Zañahary in their turn, the elder brothers transgress the
prohibitions of the road. The deity changes them into dogs. Hence, the origins of royalty,
rice, and pariahs are explained.
Koto the Sharpshooter
While hunting birds in the forest, a king comes upon two women seated on a stone in a
clearing. He captures the younger one, Rasôrôva (“Beautiful Lady Blackbird”), and
marries her, after having sworn never to reveal her origin. Rasôrôva gives birth to a son.
When the people of the village have gone to the fields, she sings a lullaby that recalls her
“animal” origin. The king’s mother hears the song and alerts her son. Rasôrôva flees
away, pursued by her husband. They arrive at a cave where Rasôrôva’s sisters and mother
live. Her mother orders her daughter to return to the world of the humans. They say to
Rasôrôva, “If the child falls ill, call us, and we will treat him with plants.”
Koto the Fisherman
A poor fisherman, Koto, catches a “princess of the waters” (water sprite or undine) in a
deep hole of a river. She agrees to marry him if he respects the prohibition of rum and
does not call her “daughter of the salt.” That night, Koto’s shelter becomes a beautiful
house. Along with the water sprite (undine), oxen and boxes filled with riches emerge
from the water. The undine gives birth to three children, a boy and two girls. During a
circumcision, the jealous king of the village intoxicates Koto, who reveals his wife’s
origin. She returns to the realms of the waters. At the conclusion of a test imposed on the
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children (eating bananas underwater), the daughters follow their mother, and the son
remains on earth with his father, who falls back into poverty.
Sacrifice of a bull at the inauguration
of a “large house” (tranobe) of a chief.
With two pairs of horns (made of
wood) on the roof, the house expresses
the connection between house, chief,
and bull. The sacrifice takes place on
the east of the “large house”, where
two trees grow: a ficus and a kind of
Albizzia (a post connected with the cult
to the ancestors and the spirits of the
earth, that took root). Photo © Philippe
Beaujard.
The Universal Order
These three myths express the structure of the universe: sky, earthly world of the living,
and the lower world divided between earth and water. Liminal sites of passage, the sites
of capture of the three women, reveal their connections with the elements, the beings, and
the realms with which these elements are associated. The stone (associated with death) of
the “Beauty of the Forest” corresponds both to the lake in which the princess of the sky
descends to bathe and to the abyss of water from where the princess of the waters
emerges. Both the princesses appear connected to the waters, but in an inverted
relationship. From the lower realm, two women arise, whose status differs: the water
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A procession toward the mouth of the
river Mananjary preceding a
circumcision. A man chosen by the
lineage bears a gourd containing “holy
water” (rano masina, or rano manoro).
His forehead and cheeks are marked
with white clay. Fathers bear their
sons, dressed in red, with a cap
decorated with a white cross. White
and red are the colors of the aristocracy
on most of the island. Here the king,
dressed in a red robe, with a “three
colored material” (lamba telo soratra)
over it signifying his kingship,
sprinkles the gourd bearer and the
whole congregation with rhum
(blessing) before the procession starts.
Photo © Philippe Beaujard.
spirit is a princess, while the “Beauty of the Forest” is a commoner, connected with the
earth. The split of the lower realm between earth (or stone) and water is related on the
social level with a schism between aristocrats and indigenous peoples expressed by the
funerary customs of the two groups composing the Tañala society (slaves were on the
margins of the society, and outside were the pariahs, deemed to have sinned with a dog).
The bodily fluids of a king (who carries the title of Lord of the River) are thrown into a
deep hole of a river (where they are changed into a crocodile), while the bodily fluids of
the indigenous people—who carry the same title, Masters of the Earth, as the spirits of
the earth—are allowed to run at the foot of a stone table erected near the collective tomb
of the lineage.
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In the character of the princess of the sky, sky merges with water. This merging
appears clearly in other Malagasy versions of the myth. In a tale from the highlands,
Faralahy, the “Last-Born,” sets up snares at the edge of a lake and catches a box
containing a princess of the sky, her maid, and a wild duck. From this box, an image of a
“fertile” coffin, like the stomach of the “Swallowing Monsters” (an ogre—Trimobe,
name of Bantu origin—or a seven-headed snake), which contains a kingdom, people and
oxen emerge when the daughter of God breaks the box. In a legend from Imerina, the
goddess Andriambavirano (“Princess of the Waters”) falls from the sky into a lake in the
form of a perfumed leaf that a prince captures uttering, “If I am noble through my father
and noble through my mother, I shall capture her easily.”
Rum, forbidden to the princesses, offered in rituals to the ancestors, and consumed at
funerals, is not mentioned by the “Beauty of the Forest.” In Madagascar, as in other
countries, mythical thought establishes a connection between the process of alcoholic
fermentation and the decomposing body. We should note that in the ancient Javanese
classification, alcoholic beverages are symbolically connected with the West and
therefore opposed to the ladies of the sky, who are connected, as in Madagascar, with the
East; here emerges an opposition between Death (West) and Life (East) (Ottino 1986,
261).
Beyond the oppositions (Culture/Nature and Nobility/Autochthony) among the three
ladies, their respective connections with the three substances (rice, zebu, and rum,
respectively associated with the three realms of the universe), which are offered in the
sacrifice to Zañahary, to the ancestors, and to the spirits of the earth, a central ritual of the
Malagasy religion, highlights their fundamental complementarity.
The prohibition of salt, common to the Tañala water spirits and to the Merina water
spirit Ranoro seems to evoke a maritime origin for these “daughters of the waters.” To
mention salt would be to refer to their origins, which is prohibited in all Melusinian tales.
We find the term noro again in the name of the water used in circumcision, rano manoro,
also named rano masina (“holy water,” or “salted water”; masina has these two
meanings). Circumcision is evoked explicitly or figuratively in the myth of the water
spirit (the test of the bananas to be eaten; with the Zafiraminia Antambahoaka, the
maternal uncle of the child eats the cut prepuce in a banana). In the Highlands, the
Antehiroka, of Vazimba ascendance, had the privilege of fetching water for the royal
circumcision near the lake in which Ranoro threw herself. A “Princess Defeated” (an
epithet given to Ranoro) on the political level, the water spirit recovers importance on the
religious level. The triple alliance of water, light, and salt in circumcision and the
character of the water spirit may be related to the Fatima of Shiite Islam, whose name we
encounter in a “Bara-Tañala” version of the myth of the water spirit (Ottino 1986, 532).
A collective ritual of integration into the group, controlled by the king, the circumcision
on the southeast coast has been influenced by the Islamicized aristocrats who came from
Indonesia around the thirteenth century and may have played a role in the development of
the kingdom of the Southeast and the South, and of the Highlands. Circumcision appears
in most of the texts where a male hero grows from childhood into adulthood. In the story
of the bird hunter, it is transferred onto the character of the old woman (the cutting of the
sticky matter with a fragment of bamboo), and onto the bull of Zañahary, from which
Koto wrests the single horn without shedding any blood.
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Cosmic Dualism, Social Dualism
The acquiring of rice, oxen, and healing plants symbolically emphasize that union with a
woman from the other world always proves to be beneficial. The three Melusinian myths,
whose endings are inseparable, express different lessons, however, on the social and
political level, although within the same aristocratic logic. Along with the alliances with
the three hierarchized realms, the tales explore the possible unions for the nobility. The
merging of sky and water in the daughter of Zañahary makes her marriage with the
hunter-prince of the earth the only alliance capable of uniting the three worlds, as well as
the only one that is at the source of a noble lineage on both paternal and maternal sides.
The “three colors” (red—sky, white—waters, black—earth) of the toga in which the
Malagasy kings drape themselves symbolize the universal sovereignty that issued from
this alliance. The marriage of the king with the “Beauty of the Forest” is at the origin of a
disparaged aristocratic lineage, for it is noble only through the male line, whereas the
hasina (sacred power of divine origin) is ideally transmitted through the female line. As a
warrant of this hasina, the king’s mother obviously opposes her son’s marriage. The
undine leaves on earth only an indigenous lineage since it is noble only on the female
side (since the eighteenth century in Tañala country, aristocratic status has been passed
through the male line and no longer through both lines).
The tragic conclusion of the myth of the water spirit, furthermore, illustrates the
prohibition of the hypogamy of the princesses, known throughout Madagascar. This
prohibition also explains Zañahary’s anger with the bird hunter. First, he must endure his
initiation voyage in a country where there is a confusion of the realm of the dead (where
the hero comes to draw wisdom and legitimacy from the ancestors) and that of the sky,
dispenser of sovereignty (which, on a political level, constitutes the stakes of the voyage
into the other world). Then Koto (in some versions of the myth) must confront additional
trials (he struggles against a unicorn bull, wrests a lightening-tree, carves a pirogue from
stone and makes it float) and prove his mastery over the three elements connected to the
three realms of the universe (fire, water, stone), with which the three metals (gold—solar
metal reserved for the king—silver, and copper) are associated.
This tripartite conception of the universe is combined with a cosmic and social
dualism, which is expressed in color distinctions: red (political power) and white
(religious power) are associated with nobility, black with the indigenous people (and with
the slaves). There is a parallel between the correlative oppositions of the sky (united with
waters) and of the earth (earth-world of the living and earth-world of the spirits), of Life
and Death, of the Upper and the Lower, and aristocrats—connected to the sky—masters
of the waters, and indigenous “masters of the earth.”
Tañala society renews with schemas well known in western Indonesia (for example,
the Ngaju of Kalimantan, studied by Schärer 1946). Evoking Tañala and Merina,
Condominas (1989) has spoken of “Malagasy variations on the Malaysian theme of the
sovereign as husband of his people.” The product, perhaps, of more recent Indonesian
influences in Madagascar, the structure of the center and the cardinal points (i.e., the
intersection of eight roads in the myth of the bird hunter), bringing into play a
hierarchization of the space underlying a political project, shows the combination of the
ternary system with a quaternary system. In a Sakalava myth, the son of a king “in the
middle of the earth,” who raises yellow, white, red, and black dogs, goes to confront trials
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in the four directions of space (Dahle and Sims 1971, 116). Seated in the “middle of the
earth,” the god-king combines in his person the four colors, along with the four elements
connected with the cardinal points: red and fire in the North (direction of the nobility’s
political power), white and water in the East (direction of the divinities, of socialized
Death), black and earth in the South (direction of the political power of the indigenous
people), and yellow and stone in the West (direction of wild Death). Thus, two axes
structure space: North-South, axis of the political, and East-West, axis of the religious.
This quaternary system is reduced again to a binary system with a North-EastUpper/South-West-Lower opposition, connected to the aristocrat/indigenous split, an
opposition that we find also in the Korawasrama, a Javanese cycle of the Mahabharata,
and the wayang theater of shadows (Ottino 1986, 245). For the cycle of the
Andriambahoaka (“Lord of the People,” a royal title found in the myths and the tales and
in the historic kingdoms of the Southeast coast and of the Highlands), Ottino notes that
the West and South, unfavorable directions for the nobility, house monsters “belonging to
Bantu mythology,” an observation that takes on a special meaning in the “Indonesian”
context of the aristocratic symbolic system.
The myth of the bird hunter illuminates the inner workings of Tañala society. The wife
(or the sister) of the king, who bears the title of “Princess of the Sky,” attends palavers
and participates in decisions. During the sacrifice, and even before the divinities are
invoked, she and her “sisters” of the noble group eat part of the prepared offerings. Since
the eighteenth century, princesses and relatives through the female line have elected new
kings (among the relatives through the male line). In the nineteenth century, a king still
chose, preferably, a first wife of noble origin. The image of the population of “servants,”
who accompany the princess of the sky to earth, is contrasted with the primordial myth of
the bird hunter, which is the political opposite of the Tañala kingdoms of the nineteenth
century, characterized by a sharing of power between the nobility and the indigenous
people. Even if, before the eighteenth century, matrilineal filiation dictated the royal line,
the myth of the bird hunter, like the other Melusinian tales, represents a model with
which the nobility has dealt with the establishing of an original dualist power. The
alliance of a commoner with a princess, though condemned in the myth of the water
spirit, has been a social practice since the eighteenth century. Yet, up to the present time,
the model continues to permeate the nobility’s worldview.
Other myths, focused on the relationship between the nobility and the common people,
also split from social reality. An aristocratic version of the myth of the “Seven-Headed
Snake” (fañany, a creature of the underworld who devours a kingdom as a result of a sin
committed by an indigenous man) warns against excessive power granted the “masters of
the earth,” whom the snake symbolizes (the myth follows the plot line of the Bantu tales
dealing with the “Swallowing Monsters,” Werner 1968, 206).
An indigenous version, in which the initial sin is ascribed to a member of the nobility,
illustrates the legitimacy of the rise of the indigenous people, who triumph over the
monster after the sacrifice of wild boars, which are taboo for the nobles (the myth reflects
ancient beliefs or practices that were eliminated under the influence of the Islamicized
aristocrats). The two social strata, at once allies and rivals, use the plot line of the same
myth but endow it with opposing political interpretations. The indigenous people seem, in
fact, to be caught between two contradictory desires: the taking on of, and denial of,
power. The myth of the two Zañahary, “from Above” and “from Below,” struggling for
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universal power, expresses an irreducible opposition between two social strata. Although,
in some versions, the celestial god triumphs, in others, he is ridiculed by the god from the
underworld, who personifies both the spirits of the earth and the indigenous people, and
who sometimes carries the name of Mbodisy (Iblis, the devil of Islam, who here has lost
some of his evil character), or that of “the Child looking for misfortune.” Like a hero of
the Bara tales, Tinaimboaty, the “god from below” here borrows features of the African
“clever child” who defies the authority of the chief. The two versions of the myth of the
Zañaharys expressed the absolute domination one social stratum wants to have over
another, and a rejection (desired or feared) of the royal power by the indigenous people.
Conflicts and violence proscribed by social practice are sublimated in the realm of the
myth.
Other tales, however, show the two divinities as allied in the creation of man—the
Zañahary from Below shapes the bodies with clay; the celestial Zañahary sets them in
motion—thus presenting an image of cooperation and unity between the sky and the
earth.
In a version where the two Zañahary share the world between them, the rice (“white”
plant) and the humans belong to the celestial god (who symbolizes the “whites,” the
nobility), while the tubers (“black” plants) and the wild beasts belong to Mbodisy (who
represents the “blacks,” the indigenous people). Here we see an opposition between white
and black, undoubtedly of Islamic origin, but inserted into an Afro-Indonesian symbolic
system. In the myth of the bird hunter, we remember that the daughter of the celestial god
steals rice from her father. This motif throws light on the social place of this divine food,
a female plant, associated with royalty. In Imerina in the nineteenth century, the king
Andrianampoinimerina said, “The rice and I, we are but one.”
Other well-known myths connect the arrival of rice on earth with that of death.
Granted by god, rice is exchanged for the life of the “Ninth” of the primordial men, or
grows miraculously on the tomb of an immolated child. This name of “Ninth” (reference
to the ninth case in geomancy—of Arab origin—which represents the spirits in a general
way) is also given to the “spirits of the earth.” These two mythical systems—rice of the
sky, rice of the earth—are related to two logics of power, aristocratic and indigenous, to
different agricultural techniques (wetrice growing for the nobility, dry-rice growing for
the indigenous populations), and to two types of rituals.
Like the water spirit and the “Beauty of the Forest,” the “Ninth” and the sacrificed
child express the fertility that emanates from the world of the dead—here through
sacrifice—and the continuity of death with life, of the ancestors with the spirits of nature
(merging with the souls of the first inhabitants). To these spirits, Faublée (1954) gave the
lovely name “spirits of life,” not seeing, however, their essential connection with the
lower world. In Madagascar, in fact, the symbolic conceptions oppose ancestors and
spirits of nature less than spirits of the earth, connected with the indigenous people, and
spirits of the waters, associated with the princes.
The problematic and shifting relationship between the nobility and the common people
appears at the center of most of Madagascar’s mythic tales. Although the myths shed
light on social reality, they are not mere reflections of this reality. A production of the
“pensée sauvage” (Levi-Strauss 1962), myth is both a conscious construct and a dream,
an expression of desires and anxieties. The Malagasy myths, in which the Indonesian
legacy seems to dominate, characterized by an “Indo-Islamic encounter” no doubt already
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achieved in Indonesia (Ottino 1986, 15–80), testify furthermore to the richness and the
complexity of the syncretic folklores of this region.
References
Beaujard, Philippe. 1991. Mythe et société à Madagascar (Tañala de l’Ikongo). Le chasseur
d’oiseaux et la princesse du ciel. Paris: L’Harmattan.
Beaujard, Philippe. 1993. Religion et société à Madagascar. L’exemple tañala. In L‘Etranger
intime. Mélanges offerts à Paul Ottino. pp. 181–217. Université de la Réunion: Océan Editions.
Condominas, Georges. 1989. Le souverain époux de son peuple: variations madécasses sur un
thème malais, In, H.J.M.Classen (ed), Variant Views: Five Lectures from the Perspective of the
“Leiden Tradition” in Cultural Anthropology, Leiden: ICA Publicatie.
Dahle, Lars, et John Sims. Anganon’ny Ntaolo [cont es des ancie 1971]. Antananarivo: Trano
Printy Loterana. (Ière éd. L.Dahle, Specimens of Malagasy Folk-Lore, Antananarivo, 1877).
Faublée, Jacques. Les esprits de la vie à Madagascar. Paris: PUF.
Haring, Lee. 1982. Malagasy Tale Index. FF Communications no. 231. Helsinki: Suomalainen.
Tiedeakatemia, Academia Scientiarum Fennica.
1992. Verbal Arts in Madagascar: Performance in Historical Perspective. Philadelphia: University
of Pennsylvania Press.
Lévi-Strauss, Claude, 1962. La pensée sauvage. Paris: Plon.
Mack, John. 1986. Madagascar: Island of the Ancestors. London: British Museum.
Ottino, Paul. 1986. L’etrangère intime. Essai d’anthropologie de la civilisation de l’ancien
Madagascar. 2 Vol. Paris: Editions des Archives Contemporaines.
Schärer, Hans. 1946. Ngaju Religion. The Conception of God among a South Borneo People. The
Hague: M.Nijhoff.
Stöhr, Waldemar. 1968. Les religions archaïques d’Indonésie et des Philippines. In Les religions
d’Indonésie, ed. Waldemar, Stöhr, et Piet Zoetmulder. 7–255. Paris: Payot.
Werner, Alice. 1933. Myths and Legends of the Bantu. London: Frank Cass.
PHILIPPE BEAUJARD
See also Cosmology; Color Symbolism: The Akan of Ghana; French Study of
African Folklore
MYTHS: MYTHS OF ORIGIN AND
SCULPTURE: THE MAKONDE
The Makonde live in southeastern Tanzania and northern Mozambique. Their original
home seems to have been to the southwest of this region. There is a debate about whether
the Makonde of Tanzania and those of Mozambique are the same people linguistically
and culturally. Some people prefer to use different names for the two groups of Makonde.
The literature on Makonde folklore mentions a myth of origin, about a man who lived
alone in the bush. He carved a statue, which, in the night, became a woman. He married
her, and together they went to the river to bathe. She gave birth to three children, the first
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two of whom died. The third and susbsequent children survived. These are the ancestors
of the Makonde.
This myth is supposed to account for various aspects of Makonde culture. The
mythical first ancestor directed his descendants to bury their dead upright, since their
mother came to life from a statue that was standing. The myth also helps to account for
the fact that the woman occupies such an elevated position in Makonde society. There is
a distinct cult of feminine ancestors, who are sometimes deified. The mother plays a very
important role; in time of death or distress, the Makonde pray to their mothers.
The founding myth seems to be the original inspiration of the tradition of wood
carving, for which the Makonde are famous. This art is very important in Makonde life. It
projects the diversity of life’s themes so comprehensively that it can be considered a
discursive tradition in its own right.
Makonde folktales present a wide array of characters. These may be human, humanlike, or nonhuman. Hare, the main trickster in the folklore of eastern and southern Africa,
appears in this role in Makonde folklore. Other characters from this region, such as Lion,
Hyena, Elephant and Antelope are also prevalent in Makonde folktales.
There are close linkages between Makonde folklore and sculpture. Makonde sculpture
often represents themes, characters, and episodes from Makonde folklore. One of the
most prevalent and memorable characters represented in the sculpture is a devil figure
popularly known as shetani. Makonde sculptures have been adept at representing this
grotesque, indefinable, but persistent figure of Makonde folklore and consciousness. The
mask, a special and most noticeable form of Makonde sculpture, is regularly used in
dances. The dancers wearing such masks represent human or animal spirits.
References
Dias, Antonio Jorge. 1961. Portuguese Contribution to Cultural Anthropology. Johannesburg:
Witwatersrand University Press.
Kingdon, Zachary. 1996. Chanuo Maundu: Master of Makonde Blackwood Art. African Arts,
XXIX, 4:56–61, 95–6.
Nang’umbi. A.A. 1998. Mystical forces and social relations in Makonde oral literature. In The
Making of a Periphery: Economic Development and Cultural Encounters in Southern Tanzania,
ed. Pekka Seppälä and Bertha Koda, pp. 265–84. Uppsala: Nordiska Afrikainstitutet.
JOSEPH L. MBELE
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N
NAMIBIA
Located on the southeast coast of Africa, Namibia is an arid country bordered by Angola,
Zambia, Zimbabwe, Botswana, and South Africa. Of the nation’s 1.73 million people, 50
percent are Ovambo, 9 percent, Kavango, 7 percent, Herero, 7 percent, Damara, and 27
percent are composed of various other groups. English, Ovambo, Kavango,
Nama/Damara, Herero, Khiosan, German, and Afrikaans are the country’s most widely
spoken languages. Seventy percent of the nation is Christian, and 30 percent of
Namibians practice traditional indigenous religions. Windhoek, the nation’s capital, is
also its largest city, with 161,000 inhabitants.
Germany declared southwestern Africa its protectorate in 1884, soon establishing a
rigidly segregated society and initiating diamond mining. The Union of South Africa
occupied the territory in 1915 and was granted a mandate by the League of Nations five
years later. South Africa continued to rule Namibia (as it was officially renamed by the
United Nations in 1968) in defiance of the UN for decades. Namibia, Africa’s last
colony, gained its independence on March 21, 1990, after 106 years of colonial rule. But
South Africa did not leave Walvis Bay, prized as a deep water port and once center of the
American whaling industry, until 1994.
After a twenty-six-year war for liberation, during which thousands of civilians died by
South African death squads, it was expected that it would take a long time to establish a
stable society and economy. Despite the nation’s rich natural resources and strong
economic potential, Namibia’s government continued to suffer from an unstable
economy in its postcolonial years. Although the apartheid rule of colonialism had been
abolished, much of the nation’s wealth remained in the hands of the white minority. At
the turn of the century, the government was attempting to encourage economic
development, as well as the redistribution of wealth. Adult literacy stood at only 60
percent.
Namibia’s many natural resources include diamonds, copper, lead, zinc, uranium,
silver, cadmium, lithium, coal, fish, and possible oil reserves. Agricultural production
revolves around corn, millet, sorghum, and livestock. The nation’s principle industries
and sources of revenue include meat canning, dairy products, leather tanning, textiles,
clothing, and mineral concentrates. Two of the country’s harshest and most interesting
areas, the “Skeleton Coast,” a strip of desert along the Atlantic coastline, and the Kalahari
Desert, may prove destinations for Namibia’s growing tourist industry.
JENNIFER JOYCE
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NAMING CUSTOMS IN AFRICA
In Africa, a range of social, religious, and cultural circumstances determines the naming
of a child (Skhosana 2001). The naming of a child is a very important event among
Africans, and the names bestowed on children have definite meanings. Hence, parents,
relatives, and neighbors are very careful when choosing the name of an individual.
Madubuike remarks, “Names are not merely labels or simple tags which the individual
carries along with him. They have a deep social significance, and many names studied
collectively express a worldview, the Weltanschauung of the people” (1976, 13–14).
Experts on names and naming practices, such as Koopman (2001) and Ledzekpo
(2001), illustrate the functions of African personal names in social and cultural bonding.
[Most examples in this entry are taken from the works of the above onomasticians, as
they represent West, Central, East, and Southern Africa.]
Ladzekpo (2001) notes that an African personal name offers insight into one’s cultural
origin. It may personify the individual by alluding to a story about the family or the
immediate parents of the bearer. It signifies the values, beliefs, convictions, traditions,
hopes, fears, and conceptions of the whole group. In Africa a child is given a name with a
deep-rooted meaning. In the fashion handed down through generations, a name is
selected after careful reflection and consultation and with the hope that the child will
grow up in fulfillment of the name provided. Many Africans will seek guidance from
ancestors or spiritual entities by consulting with a diviner about the proper name for a
child. Some families may consult the naming traditions of Christianity or Islam or baby
name books, while others may find such European or Arabic names offensive. Surnames
or clan names were originally personal names that have since been adopted by the people
descended from that particular clan.
A name is the identity of and window into one’s culture and self. A name exerts an
influence for better or for worse on the life of the child. Quartey-Papafio (1910) reports
that a Ga man would even die for his family name. If someone misused his name, it was
considered an insult, not only to the person to whom the affront was offered, but also to
the family to which he belonged. It is considered an unpardonable defamation to call a
man or a woman by a name other than the one given to him or her by parents or relatives.
African names are very close and dear to one’s heart, because they connect one with
one’s ancestors and are a part of one’s spirituality. Moreover, African names offer the
first insight into a person’s cultural origin.
Some famous African leaders have jettisoned their Euro-Hebraic names in favor of
pertinent African ones: Kwame Nkrumah discarded Johnson, Mobuto Sese Seko
discarded Joseph, and Jomo Kenyatta discarded Johnson, to select just a few examples
from a long list. Even in South Africa, some politicians have reverted to their original
African names. The adoption of African names demonstrates a sense of cultural
independence. On the other hand, in an interesting anticolonial reaction, some parents in
Nigeria, during World War II, named their sons Hitler.
Names given by an ethnolinguistic group in Africa depict a significant character as
well as an exposition of the circumstances of the birth of the name bearer (Ladzekpo
2001). The name of the Zulu king Shaka bears testimony to this. Koopman (2001)
explains that reasons for giving names on the African continent can be divided roughly
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into four categories: These are in no particular order of priority, and many names overlap
two or more categories. Two are discussed here:
One type of name derives from a handed-down family name or a name given to
commemorate a deceased relative or friend. Koopman (2001, 3) says the choice of a
relative’s or friend’s name to be thus commemorated ranges from purely arbitrary—the
whim of the father or mother of the child—to a highly rigid structure common to all
members of the society. For the Gikuyu of Kenya there is a rigid system of naming, in
which the first son is named after his father’s father (Madubuike 1976, 95). The Nuer
people seem to have the same practice, in that, according to Evans-Pritchard (1948, 167),
personal names sometimes occur in lineal descent, as is the case with monarchies.
Interestingly enough, even in southern Africa, monarchies follow this practice; for
example, the reigning Swazi king in 2002 was Mswati III, and in Lesotho, it was Letsi II.
Ladzekpo (2001) notes that African names have the capacity to reveal a person’s original
clan. People knowledgeable of these traditions can decipher a person’s clan status and
birth rank by analyzing the etymology of the names.
Another system of naming focuses on the circumstances surrounding the birth.
Ladzekpo states that “historically, African people of all ethnic persuasions can identify
and recount past events by naming children in accordance with the event or circumstance
at the time of birth” (2001, 4). Children may be called names that suggest famine,
earthquake, harvest, thunderstorm, and any natural phenomenon. In South Africa, for
example, when the identity document was introduced for blacks, many parents were not
too sure about the exact date on which they were born, but the main events of the time
helped them to approximate the year for the document. Even the bearer of the name will
boast that he or she was born on the day of such and such an event. As Molema notes,
“Names of children were taken from events that were taking place about the time of their
birth. Thus, children born, say, during the South African War might be called Leburu
(Boer), Ntoa (War), Maksone (Maxim), Kganelo (Siege) and so forth” (1928, 128).
References
Evans-Pritchard, E.E. 1948. Nuer Modes of Address. Uganda Journal 12.
Koopman, A. 2001. Zulu Names. Durban: University of Natal Printers.
Ladzekpo, E. 2001. African Personal Names: Their Historical and Cultural Significance. From
http://www.soi.city. (web project/ introduction).
Madubuike, I. 1976. A Handbook of African Names. Washington D.C.: Three Continents Press.
Molema, S.S. 1920. The Bantu, Past and Present. Edinburg: Edinburgh Press.
Skhosana, P.B. Names and Practices Amongst Southern Ndebele Male Persons. Nomina Africana
15, nos. 1 and 2.
Quartey-Papafio, A.B. 1910. The Use of Names among the Ga or Acra People of the Gold Coast.
Journal of the African Society 10.
PETROS MAFIKA LUBISI
See also Birth and Death Rituals among the Gikuyu; Gender Representation in
African Folklore
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NAMING CUSTOMS, EAST AFRICA
East African communities have different ways of naming children. While some systems
are fixed, others are rather flexible. This flexibility allows some communities to capture
certain natural and social phenomenon and encode it in their culture through names.
Thus, names constitute East African communities’ folklore inasmuch as they exhibit the
artistic characteristics of accurate observation, vivid imagination, and ingenious
expression. The differences in naming systems of East African communities calls for
separate discussions for some selected communities.
The Maragoli of Western Kenya
In this community, children are named either according to circumstances surrounding
their birth or according to the names of their clans. Generally speaking, “good” people
will be named after their death, but people will try to forget the name of a person who
was considered “bad” during his lifetime. Examples of Maragoli names and their
meaning are given below.
A child who is born at night may be called Avukidu, meaning “of the
night.”
A child born during the time of famine is called Anzala.
A child born outside the house is called Chavulimu, meaning “wild.”
A child born during corn harvest time is called Kaduma, meaning
“maize.”
A child who is the only one in the home is called Muderwa.
A child born when locusts are threatening the country is called Asige,
meaning “of the locust.”
The first twin is usually called Malonge.
A child born during planting time is called Vutagwa.
The Bagisu of Western Kenya
The natural seasons in agriculturalist communities provide an important reservoir of
names in several East African communities. Among the Bagisu, male and female children
born during a famine are named Wantsala and Nanzala, respectively, after insala,
meaning “hunger.” Similarly, the male and female children born during a drought are
named Nasimiyu or Simiyu—after Simiyu, meaning “drought.” A boy born in the rainy
season is named Wafula, and a girl is named Nafula. A girl born during the time of
sowing may be called Nakhumitsa, during the weeding time, Nekesa, and during the
ploughing time, Nelima.
Some names among the Bagisu have significant meanings. The firstborn is called
Bakoki, meaning “the first to give pain to the woman.” The name is not used publicly.
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The last-born boy or girl has a pet name, Mutuwa, meaning “the one who closed the
path.” Kuloba is the name given to a baby boy who follows the death of another child.
Liloba is the earth, and since the earth has swallowed the other child, the next newborn is,
therefore, given the name Kuloba. Wepukhulu is the name given to a baby boy if he is the
only one in the family. Nabisinyo is the name given to bastards of either sex. Other
names describe beauty. Matiinyi, meaning “well proportioned,” is the name given to a
beautiful girl. Naluhende, meaning “slender,” is an-other name given to an attractive girl.
The Gĩkũyũ of Central Kenya
The Gĩkũyũ have a formulaic way of naming their children, one based on their extended
family relations. The name given to a child depends on sex and birth position. The
formula (shown below) is fixed, and therefore a child’s name is known before he or she is
even born. If the ninth child is a boy, he will be named after the father’s second brother.
If the father had only one brother, then the boy will be given the name that the father’s
mother would have given her third son if she had had one. In this case, the boy would be
named after the father’s father (grandfather’s) first brother.
Twins are named either on the mother’s side or the father’s side depending on their
position and sex. For example, if male twins are firstborns, the first will be named after
the father’s father and the second after the father’s first brother. If a child—for example,
a third son—dies and another son is born soon after, three naming options exist. The
newborn could be given the same name that had been given to the dead child; in this case,
he would be named after the father’s first brother. Alternatively, he could be given the
name Kariuki or Muriuki, meaning “the one who has risen from the dead,” implying that
the parents feel that the dead child has “risen” in the newborn. A third option is that he
could be given the name of the next relative in the order given in the chart above (e.g.,
Table 1
Position and Sex
Named after
1st male
Father’s father
1st female
Father’s mother
2nd male
Mother’s father
2nd female
Mother’s mother
3rd male
Father’s first brother
3rd female
Father’s first sister
4th male
Mother’s first brother
4th female
Mother’s first sister
what would have happened if his predecessor were still alive), and, in this case, be named
after the mother’s first brother. The same case would apply to a girl born immediately
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after the death of a sister, the difference being that, in the second option, the name given
to a girl is Njoki, meaning “the one who has returned.”
If a child is born outside marriage and the man responsible refuses to marry the girl,
the child is named after its relations from the mother’s side according to the above
formula. If the woman later marries, it means that her parents or relations will be named
before those of the husband, and any one conversant with the Gĩkũyũ naming customs
will know that the children were born out of wedlock.
The Luo of South Western Kenya
Among the Luo, there is a traditional naming of children, based on the time of birth and
sex. Generally, names starting with the letter “O” refer to males and those starting with
“A” refer to females. A child born in the early morning is named Omondi or Akinyi. One
born in midmorning is called Onyango or Anyango. One born in broad daylight is called
Ochieng’ or Achieng’. A child born in the evening is named Odhiambo or Adhiambo.
One born at night is Otieno or Atieno, while one born at mid-night is named Owuor or
Awuor. Other Luo names correspond to the place where one is born. One born by the
roadside is Oyoo or Ayoo. One born in the bush is named Olum or Alum. Twins are
Apiyo and Adongo and Opiyo and Odongo, depending on whether they are boys or girls.
Their follower is named Akelo or Okelo, depending on sex.
Naming systems in East Africa portray the diversity of African culture and the
richness of its folklore. Names remain a fairly stable category of African oral traditions.
Although East Africans were forced to take European names as a mark of Christianity
during colonialism, European names have never achieved meaning in the naming
systems. African names continue to carry lineage, tribal, and cultural meanings. They
remain an integral system of the African oral traditions.
References
Lo Liyong, T., eds. 1972. Popular Culture of East Africa: Oral Literature. Nairobi: Longman
Kenya.
Nandwa, J., and A. Bukenya. 1983. African Oral Literature for Schools. Nairobi: Longman Kenya.
MICHAEL WAINAINA
See also Linguistics and African Verbal Arts
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580
NARRATION AND VERBAL
DISCOURSE: THE LUGBARA OF
UGANDA
The Lugbara are a Central Sudanic-speaking people of northwest Uganda and the
adjacent areas of the Democratic Republic of the Congo and the Sudan Republic. They
numbered about a quarter of a million in the 1950s, the era with which this entry is
concerned. They were densely settled farmers, growing mainly sorghums as staples and
keeping some livestock. There were some sixty dispersed patrilineal clans, segmented
into territorially compact subclans, each of some four thousand people, and in turn
divided into several levels of lineages. The minimal lineage was the core of a joint
family, the basic residential group (Middleton 1960). They traditionally lackedcentralized
political authority; those with the greatest authority were the rainmakers, one in each
subclan. Beneath them were the elders of joint families. The British and Belgian colonial
administrations appointed chiefs. This “traditional” social organization was greatly
changed by the turn of century, but the situation remained uncertain. In the 1950s most
Lugbara were illiterate. Although many younger people could read and write; theirs was
not a literate culture. Formal behavior was dependent upon verbal communication, in
which narrative skill, nuances of speech, use of proverbs, subtle allusion to local events,
and preciseness in choice of words were necessary for the speaker to be counted as a
mature person.
The Lugbara community of shared communication included the living, the dead, and
spirits. Lugbara saw themselves as creatures of the Creator divinity, Adroa, with whom
they lost contact long ago. They once lived together in the sky, but, due to a woman’s
action, fell to earth. Adroa was given the attributes of omnipotence, ubiquity, and
atemporality, and of being beyond human understanding. Divinity communicated with
the living by sending good and bad fortune and death.
The living came into regular contact with lesser powers. These included a’bi (the
ancestors) of several kinds: the male lineage ancestors and firstborn female ancestors
were known as ori, “ghosts,” and were given greater authority, depending largely on how
long ago they had lived (Middleton 1960). Very old living men and women might be
called a’bi also, a sign of how thin was the boundary between them, but the distinction
was invariably made. The other powers were the many kinds of spirits, not tied to
localities and beyond counting. They contacted the living by possession of their bodies
and minds; offerings were then made to them, and their random power was transformed
into authority over particular individuals, many of whom thereby acquired the mystical
ability of divination.
Men in general had more formal authority than did women, but postmenopausal
women held greater informal authority than did younger men; youths and children had
little or no authority, except among themselves. The superficially rigid lineage structure,
paradoxically, allowed for much fluidity in local patterns of settlement and behavior
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(Evans-Pritchard 1961). A person’s authority was constantly changing with age,
genealogical position, and wisdom and reputation. People competed for high lineage and
neighborhood position, and in this nonliterate society, genealogies, which validated the
exercise of authority, could rapidly be changed over time. This was reflected in speech,
which although seemingly subject to rigid rules, in fact, followed the looseness of
everyday relationships.
The occasions when the living communicated with other people and with nonliving
powers were each accompanied by differences in the identities of speech participants and
in kinds and degrees of formality of speech. Communication was never entirely verbal,
but was accompanied by forms of gesture and bodily stance, all being expressions of
closeness or distance.
Five main categories of occasion might be distinguished by the degrees of formality,
of distance between the living and between them and nonliving participants, and so the
distance from the sacred. The most sacred occasion for traditionalists was that of a
rainmaker beseeching Divinity for help for the community in the secrecy of his rain
grove, alone; rainmakers have said that they addressed Divinity but without actual words,
as Divinity understood their thoughts. This was known as a’izu, “to beseech,” the word
adopted by Christians for prayer. A rainmaker also used great formality when making
peace of feuds or when telling his people to begin sowing or harvesting, thereby defining
the flow of the seasons, a godlike activity. The rainmakers were given many attributes of
sacredness and were symbolically counted as having died socially when succeeding to the
office (Middleton 1971, 1978). With this occasion may be classed that of prophetic
utterance. When a prophet spoke as emissary of Divinity, his words, being Divine and so
highly powerful and dangerous, were expressed in glossolalia translated by his nonprophetic assistant. These words were thus, in a sense, also secret, although uttered aloud.
The great prophetic leader among the Lugbara was Rembe, a Kakwa prophet who lived
among them in 1915 and 1916 and was still vividly, although mythopoeically,
remembered in the 1950s (Middleton 1963, 1971).
The second category included the words and gestures used in rites of sacrifice to
ancestors and ghosts by elders and other senior men. These words were supposed to be a
‘da, the “truth,” as far as the speaker knew it; only a rainmaker knew more of the truth,
and even then, he never knew everything, as only Divinity knew that. Sacrificial speech
included many conventional phrases used to “please” the ancestral listeners; it also
included silences the listeners understood represented respect and subservience to their
power. There was no reference to detailed occurrences that had to do with the offence
that was the original reason for the sacrifice; the dead and the spirits knew the facts in
any case, and to include them would merely destroy the intended amity between the
living to be brought about by the sacrificial rite.
The third category was communication with spirits by diviners. Each diviner had her
repertoire of actions and phrases that were taken to be the expression of the thoughts of
the possessing spirit that guided her and that often needed to be “translated” to her
clients. These words were also spoken within a hut and so were semisecret. Diviners were
almost always women who had been possessed by certain spirits at puberty; they were
also typically women who had been mistreated by their husbands and had shown
themselves possessed as a means of asserting their independence as women (Middleton
1969a).
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The fourth occasion was that of funerals. Death dances were the most important rites
of passage of any, and those for an important man might last for many months
(Middleton 1982). The words used by mourners were highly competitive and usually
antagonistic between those fighting to succeed to the deceased’s social position. They
were accompanied by brawling and heavy drinking, and although uttered aloud and often
in song, were “secret” in the sense that the allusions were rarely understood by
nonmourners.
The last category of occasions in which formal speech was necessary included those of
legal cases, the naming of an infant by its mother, the public weeping of a mother for a
dead child (a very different expression than the crying of a bereaved woman), and even
drunken “speech,” which, in fact, followed certain conventions of allusion and
intelligibility.
There was a corpus of myth dealing with the beginning of the world and society, the
coming of the Heroes, and their establishment of proper patterns of settlement,
production, marriage, and feuding. An elder, relating a myth, included carefully chosen
and “traditional” words and much gesture when telling his story.
The only other occasions of formal “speech” were those of singing and dancing. There
was an immense repertoire of everyday songs that were an integral part of dances. Both
death dances and courtship dances contained proverbs, elliptical phrases, and topical and
obscene references to well-known persons and happenings of the day. Death and
courtship dances were the main dances that attracted large numbers of participants from a
wide area (Middleton 1985).
The terms formal and informal in speech and behavior need explication. Formality
was characterized by what the Lugbara call “slowness.” Slowness was proper in age and
in relations of respect, whereas young men and women were expected to behave with
some impetuosity. Besides actual speech, the choice of words, gestures, and respectful
demeanor was always considered important. The kinds of narration, speech, and gestures
used between living and between living and nonliving were never rigidly fixed by
changes in age and genealogical position, respect, personal ability, and, of course, degree
of acceptance of Christianity. In fact, the same pattern was carried over into Christian
religious behavior.
In summary, the degree of formality in speech was determined by the degree of
sacredness of the “persons” being addressed by the living, and/or by the dignity or the
“slowness” of the speakers. These factors were linked in that only those reputed to be
“slow” could address the more sacred personages, which helped validate their achieved
social positions in this loosely organized society.
References
Evans-Pritchard, E.E. 1961. Kinship and Marriage among the Nuer. Oxford: Oxford University
Press.
Middleton, John. 1960. Lugbara Religion: Ritual and Authority among an East African People.
London: Oxford University Press.
——. 1963. The Yakan or Allah Water Cult among the Lugbara. Journal of the Royal
Anthropological Institute 93:80–108.
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——. 1969. Oracles and Divination among the Lugbara. In Man in Africa, ed. M.Douglas, and
P.M.Kaberry, London: Tavistock Press.
——. 1969. Spirit possession among the Lugbara In Spirit Mediumship and Society in Africa, ed.
J.Beattie, and J. Middleton, pp. 220–31. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul.
——. 1971. Prophets and Rainmakers: The Agents of Social Change among the Lugbara. In The
Translation of Culture, ed. T.O.Beidelman. London: Tavistock Press.
——. 1978. The rainmaker among the Lugbara of Uganda. Systemes de Signes: Textes Reunis en
Hommage a Germaine Dieterlen, In ed. M.Cartry, pp. 377–88. Paris: Hermann.
——. 1982. Lugbara Death. In Death and the Regeneration of Life, ed, M.Bloch, and J.Parry.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
——. 1985. The Dance among the Lugbara of Uganda. In ed. P. Spencer, Language in Africa.
Cambridge University Press.
JOHN MIDDLETON
See also Cosmology; East African Folklore: Overview; Gender Representation in
African Folklore
NDEBELE
See Children’s Folklore: Ndebele; Southern African Oral Traditions
NGBAKA MA’BO
See Central Africa; Proverbs; Riddles; Songs
NIGER (REPUBLIC OF NIGER)
Landlocked in western Africa, Niger is an arid country surrounded by Mali, Burkina
Faso, Benin, Nigeria, Chad, Libya, and Algeria. Of Niger’s 10.8 million people, 56
percent are Hausa, 22 percent, Djerma/Songhai, 10 percent, Fulani, 8 percent, Tuareg,
and 4 percent are composed of various other groups. French is the official language, with
Hausa, Djerma, and Fulani the “national” languages; Songhai, Kanuri, and Tamacheg
(Tuareg) are also spoken. The majority of Niger’s people are Muslim (80 percent), and 20
percent practice traditional indigenous religions. Niamey, a city of 398,000, is the
nation’s capital.
The area was first colonized by the French in 1883. This rule was never accepted by
the Taureg, who continued to oppose the government. On August 3, 1960, Niger gained
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its independence from France after decades under colonial rule. In 1974, after drought
and economic decline, the country’s government of civilian rule was overthrown by
Lieutenant Colonel Seyni Kountche, who instituted a Supreme Military Council. The
nation returned to a multiparty system in 1993, but it continued to be plagued by periodic
coups and counter coups.
In the latter part of the twentieth century, Niger’s government spent a large percentage
of its national budget on agriculture programs, which aided the harvests of Niger’s
farmers, despite the recurrent problem of drought. Nearly 82 percent of the population is
rural. Niger’s natural resources include uranium, coal, iron, tin, and phosphates, while
agricultural production centers around millet, sorghum, peanuts, beans, cotton, and
cowpeas. Principle industries include mining, textiles, cement, agricultural production,
and construction.
Niger’s government has a strong commitment to the preservation of the nation’s
cultural heritages, and the country’s primary schools often instruct students in their
traditional languages. The National Museum and the annual youth festival in Agades also
serve to reinforce the traditions of Niger’s many cultures. These are bright spots in an
otherwise difficult situation, because in 2002 Niger had Africa’s highest fertility rate (7.4
children per woman), and the lowest adult literacy rate in the world, at 14 percent.
JENNIFER JOYCE
NIGERIA (FEDERAL REPUBLIC OF
NIGERIA)
Nigeria, located on the coast of West Africa and bordered by Benin, Niger, Chad, and
Cameroon, is the continent’s most populated country, with nearly 129 million citizens.
Twenty-one percent of the population is Hausa; 21 percent, Yoruba; 18 percent, Ibo; 11
percent, Fulani; and 29 percent is composed of various other groups. The most commonly
spoken languages in the country are English, Hausa, Yoruba, Ibo, and Fulani nearly 250
other languages have been recognized by the government. Half of all Nigerians are
Muslim, 40 percent are Christian, and 10 percent practice traditional indigenous religions.
Abuja, a city of 339, 100, is the nation’s official capital, that Lagos remains the
commercial center. Nigeria’s climate ranges from tropical to arid.
Nigeria was one the major sources of the slave trade in the eighteenth century. By the
mid 1800s there was much trading activity in the Niger Delta and, as throughout the
British Empire, the flag followed the traders. By 1914, the northern and southern
provinces of Nigeria had been linked in a federated colony. On October 1, 1960, Nigeria
gained its independence from Britain after more than a century of colonial rule.
Unfortunately, the years since independence have been plagued with interethnic violence
(most dramatically during the Biafran War in the late 1960s), economic deterioration, and
mostly military rule.
In the 1970s, Nigeria’s economy grew tremendously with the increase of oil revenues.
During this oil boom, however, agriculture and nonpetroleum exports were virtually
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abandoned and suffered a severe decline. Along with the financial success of the 1970s
came much corruption and wasteful spending within the government. When oil prices
declined in the 1980s, Nigeria suffered severe economic losses. One of the saddest
episodes in this tragic history was the execution of writer Ken Saro-Wiwa and eight
others, the leaders of the Ogoni protest movement in the Niger Delta. Opposition to
national corruption and foreign exploitation continues in the Niger Delta, with the
women’s movement taking a leadership role. Ironically, the source of Nigeria’s vast oil
wealth, the Niger Delta, has suffered so much pollution that the people can no longer
farm, fish, or drink the water in the area. Despite its economic and political woes, Nigeria
maintains one of Africa’s largest economies, second only to South Africa. At the start of
the new century, under elected leadership, President Olusegun Obasanjo was moving the
country ahead, and many people were becoming somewhat optimistic about Nigeria’s
future. Another area of concern has developed, however, as the northern states instituted
Islamic Sharia law, and periodic outbreaks of violence between Christian and Moslem
fundamentalists took hundreds of lives.
The Niger River has been the foundation for communication and trade with much of
West Africa for centuries. The mobility that the river offers has, throughout the
millennium, fostered the emergence of a vast array of cultures in the region. Before the
onset of colonialism, Nigerian artists produced and traded many types of crafts, such as
sculpture, metalwork, glass, textiles, and leather. Colonial rule and the slave trade,
however, disrupted these trades and industries.
Over 90 percent of Nigeria’s income in 2002 was derived from oil and gas. Other
natural resources included timber and various minerals, while the agricultural sector
produced cotton, cocoa, rubber, yams, cassava, sorghum, palm kernels, millet, corn, rice,
and livestock. Principle industries and sources of revenue were mining, crude oil, natural
gas, coal, tin, columbite, the processing of palm oil, cotton, rubber, and petroleum, and
the manufacturing of textiles, cement, building materials, chemicals, and beer brewing.
Nigeria is internationally renowned for its writers, artists, musicians, and athletes.
Famous writers include novelist Chinua Achebe and Wole Solyinka (Nobel Prize for
Literature winner for his poems, plays, and novels). Fela Anikulado Kuti, a Nigerian
musician, achieved world fame with his “Afro-Beat” style of music. “King” Sunny Ade
is another renowned musician who is known for his popularization of Nigeria’s Juju
music. Nigeria was also successful in the 1996 Olympics when the nation’s female track
and field team won five medals and the soccer team competed in the finals. Many
traditional and contemporary painters, sculptors, metal workers, and textile artists are
active in the outcomes.
JENNIFER JOYCE
NILOTIC PEOPLES
See Animals in African Folklore; Origin and Culture Heroes
African folklore
586
NORTH AFRICAN (WESTERN
SECTION) FOLKLORE
See Maghrib
NORTH AFRICAN (EASTERN
SECTION) FOLKLORE: OVERVIEW
The northeast corner of Africa comprises Egypt and Libya. Egypt’s Sinai Peninsula
offers one of three major bridges linking Africa to Asia and Europe (the others are the
Bab al-Mandab Straits on the Red Sea between Yemen and Ethiopia and Gibraltar on the
Mediterranean between Morocco and the Iberian Peninsula). Prior to the opening of the
Suez Canal in the nineteenth century, the Sinai Peninsula provided the only land route to
Africa. From time immemorial, traders, travelers, conquerors, and migrants moved in or
out of Africa via Egypt. Eventually, with the advancement of shipping and sailing
technologies, other routes into Africa, especially around the Indian Ocean, became
available.
Today, after sixty centuries of recorded history of population mobility, Egypt
represents a microcosm of the Afro-Arab World. Its population is about 70 million,
almost 99 percent of whom live in the Nile Valley, which constitutes about 4 percent of
Egypt’s total land mass. The composition of the cultures of its population and the
distribution of the various social groups on the land form four distinct culture areas,
described below.
The Nile Valley
The Nile Valley is represents an essentially fellah (peasant) culture. The population is
predominantly Sunni Muslim, with a Coptic (Christian) minority; small numbers belong
to other Christian sects, such as the Greek Orthodox, Roman Catholic, Armenian, and
various Protestant churches. Egypt also has a very small Jewish community. The primary
language spoken is Arabic, although the Fâdidchî, Kunûzî Nubian, and Berber (Siwi)
languages are spoken in the extreme south, and in the Siwa Oasis in the west of the
country, respectively. Several metropolises are found in this area, many of which (such as
Cairo, Alexandria, Tanta, Asyout, and Aswan) are industrial centers, with more than 1
million inhabitants.
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The Northeastern Oasis
This region includes Siwa and extends into Libya, where the influence of Berber groups
is noticeable. Practically all the nomads, as well as the great majority of the farmers, are
Arabs, with a small Berber element also present. The nomads’ domain extends both to the
west (the coast of Libya) and to the east (the Libyan plateau of western Egypt), as well as
to the Mediterranean coast. The dominant religion is Islam, with the Senussi sect
predominating in the central part of the area.
The Beja
The Beja lies between the Upper Nile and the Red Sea. Most Beja tribes have retained
their own Hamitic language, although Arabic has been adopted by many. The grazing
conditions are poor; consequently, they must move continually, in very small groups.
The North Arabian Desert
This region is the cradle of Islam and the Arabic language. Its center is Western Asia
(Saudi Arabia). The Egyptian Eastern Desert and Sinai belong to this culture area; the
nomadic way of life dominates.
Although the number of nomads in Egypt is fairly small, there have been major
demographic changes in terms of detribalization and the adoption of sedentary life styles.
Folklore and Scholarship
Considering Egypt’s long history and its position as “cradle of civilization,” presenting a
detailed description of its cultural phases and transformations is a demanding task.
Traditionally, the Egyptian countryside, with its villages and perennially irrigated small
fields, remained outside the spheres of cultural influences of those non-Egyptian rulers
residing in urban centers, such as the Persians, Romans, Mamelukes, Ottomans, French,
and British. Arab-Islamic influence began to penetrate rural areas only as late as the
fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Moreover, folklore and similar aspects of expressive
culture were viewed by ruling authorities as too insignificant to affect the cardinal
religious, linguistic, and political orientations of the dominant demographic category of
the population. Thus, the culture and lifestyle of the Egyptian peasants were almost
totally ignored.
For millennia, allusions to Egyptian folkloric forms have appeared in various literary
works. Yet, it was not until the emergence of nationalistic independence movements in
the twentieth century that interest in the “folk” and their lore was emphasized by scholars
and governments. The uncovering of ancient Egyptian civilizations and the possible
connections between that marvelous stage in Egypt’s history and the contemporary era
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gained momentum. In the late nineteenth century, Aida, an opera by Italian composer
Guiseppe Verdi to celebrate the new Egyptian Opera House and the inauguration of the
Suez Canal, and the sounding by an Egyptian of fellah background of the horn (bugle)
found in King Tutankhamun’s tomb, had profound nationalistic implications for Egypt’s
independence and her deeprooted history and culture.
The first center in the Arab world for the study of folklore was established in Egypt in
1958: the Center for Folklore at the Ministry of Culture (CFMC) in Cairo. It was
composed of the following specialized departments: folk literature, customs and
traditions, music, dance, museum, archives, and library.
In the early 1970s, the Arts Academy, Ministry of Culture, was inaugurated. Beside
such institutes for the elite (academic) arts such as music, ballet, opera, and theater, the
Academy also included the High Institute for Folk Arts. Today several Egyptian colleges
and universities have academic folklore programs that award the M.A. and Ph.D. degrees
in a variety of specializations within the discipline. Among these are Cairo University,
Ain-Shams University, The Girl’s College (Cairo), and Alexandria University.
Although once limited to mainly “folk literature,” the scope of interest in folklore has
expanded in accordance with recent developments in international academic institutions.
Thus, the discipline currently incorporates a variety of fields: oral literature, material
culture, social folk customs (e.g., rites of passage, folk medicine, etc.), folk arts (e.g.,
dance, festivals, etc.), and music and ethnomusicology.
Vernacular Arabic and Folk Groups
As part of the Arab-Islamic world, Egypt’s culture is anchored to the Arabic language,
spoken by all its religious groups, Muslim and Christian alike. Serious and sustained
interest in orally communicated lore may be attributed to the impact of Western
scholarship. During the nineteenth century, European students of Arabic dialects
(including). Seldon Willmore and Wilhelm Spitta) collected and published oral texts as
examples of representative dialectical utterances. This foreign emphasis on the study of
vernacular Arabic had virtually no appreciable impact on indigenous Arab and Moslem
scholars; their concern with Arabic dialects and dialectical narrative lore remained
dormant (or hostile) until the middle of the twentieth century when radical political
changes in attitudes toward folk groups took place.
Since the 1950s, significant attention has been paid to indigenous, orally transmitted
lore. This new interest was generated by a number of factors: First, there was the
emergence of the modern nationalistic ideologies stressing political entities referred to as
the state. Under the previous forms of ideal Islamic government, namely the Caliphate,
the independence of such entities was not tolerated, and they were referred to only as
(“regions”) or
(“territories”), or even shuQiqûb (national or ethnic
populations; singular, shaQiqb (i.e., a people of a specific nationality). Second, a
companion force of nationalism and the emergence of the modern populist state is the
reliance on the jamâhîr (masses) and local communities and their cultures (i.e., regional
cultures, or culture areas). Such social groups were previously referred to as Qiqâmmah
(i.e., commoners, or al
, or al-sûqah, the vulgar classes). A third force has been
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the introduction into the academic realm of modern scholarly theories, which justified the
study in Arab universities of folk literature in vernacular Arabic.
Consequently, folklore centers have been established in virtually every Arab country
over the course of the past thirty years. Academic institutions and other governmentsponsored establishments (e.g., folklore centers, and “mass culture” divisions in
ministries of culture) were created in order to address the need to collect, study, preserve,
and process folklore materials.
Adverse Attitudes Toward Dialects
The current strong interest in folk and regional cultures in the Arab world (including
Egypt and Libya) is countervailed by the viewpoint held by many Arab nationalists and
formal religious authorities that paying attention to folk dialectical literatures erodes the
primacy of classical Arabic and encourages the instinationalization of regional
differences and developing identities separate from that of a unified Arab Nation. Thus, it
is feared that bestowing academic legitimacy on Arabic dialects will ultimately lead to
the eroding of the primacy of al-fushâ (classical Arabic, the language of the Quran), and
contribute to the emergence of new languages out of these dialects (as in the case of
Italian and French, for example, evolving from, and eventually replacing in common
usage, Latin). Eventually, the fear is that these developments would further fragment
Arab unity. In this respect, and with reference to pan-Arab nationalism, the study of
verbal folklore is seen as promoting regionalism, and is therefore perceived as
antinationalistic and, in some circles, antireligious. Additionally, the label turâth
shaQiqbî (folk tradition), which folklorists have been using to designate the subject
matter of their field of inquiry, generates apprehension, especially among fundamentalist
Muslims. Folklore conferences and symposia held under the title turâth shaQiqbî
generate feelings of ill will. The main source for concern is the use of the word turâth
(“traditions”, or “legacy”), as, for the past fourteen centuries, this word has designated
theological and related writings other than the Quran and hadîth (“traditions”, i.e.,
sayings and descriptions of deeds attributed to the prophet Muhammad).
Arab folklorists have attempted to assuage these fears. In some symposia, resolutions
were adopted calling for translating folk literature invariably expressed in lahajât
(“dialects”) or in al-Qiqarabiyyah al-dârijah (“vernacular Arabic”) into al-fushâ
(“classical Arabic”); the neutral term
(“traditions” or “legacy”) has been
adopted as a substitute for the religion-bound term turâth.
Typology, Indexes, and the Study of African Folkore
A presentation of Egypt’s folklore as part of the lore of Africa requires a comparative
approach. Considering the present academic separation between northern and southern
Africa, researchers in the field of folklore rely on reference works that serve as guides to
the vast amount of data involved.
There are two relevant indexing and classificatory systems that treat folk traditions in
general, and narrative data in particular: Antti Aarne and Stith Thompson’s The Types of
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the Folktale, and Stith Thompson’s Motif-Index of Folk Literature; this latter index,
which is more inclusive of social and cultural materials, addresses smaller units of
analysis that may be found in religious belief, family life, government, and so on.
In spite of the intended universality of coverage, both works paid negligible attention
to sources addressing Egyptian materials, ancient as well as modern. Consequently, an
inaccurate state of affairs dominates the academic scene in this area of scholar ship. For
example, the pivotal anthology, Popular Tales of Ancient Egypt, by Egyptologist Sir
Gaston Maspero, does not appear at all in The Types of the Folktale. Actually, no
“Egyptian” texts are cited in relation to other tale types that were known to exist in
ancient Egyptian literature.
Similarly, Stith Thompson’s Motif-Index of Folk Literature contains only two
peripheral motifs from Maspero’s Contes. Thus, the absence of Maspero’s work from the
Aarne-Thompson tale-type index and Thompson’s motif index is total. Consequently,
ancient Egyptian narratives and related traditions remained outside folklore indexes. The
rich data and constructive thoughts that Maspero’s work offered played no significant
role in the development or the testing of folklore theories especially with reference to
Africa. As will be shown below, research on sub-Saharan lore, including Egyptian
materials, typically makes no significant references to possible connections with the
north.
Ancient Egyptian Legacy
The earliest recorded literature in history, depicted in hieroglyphic and temple wall
paintings, reveals strong exchanges between the African north and south. Ancient
Egypt’s maritime routes extended from the Nile eastward to the Red Sea via marshlands
(hence, the Nile was labeled “The Ocean River”). Their purpose was to conduct trade and
secure incense and other African goods; their destination was what is now Somalia and
adjacent countries. Also, the internal migrations within sub-Saharan Africa provided for
early close interactions between the North and the South (with the Sahara chosen as the
dividing point in prevalent academic literature). Some Bantu-speaking groups are
reported to have lived as far north as Singa in the Sudan.
Sub-Saharan Influence on the North
Numerous aspects of ancient Egyptian lore seem to be found throughout Africa.
Although many Africanists typically argue in favor of one-way cultural borrowing by
sub-Saharan groups from “higher” cultures north of the Sahara, such a viewpoint might
not be quite accurate. Recorded examples of lore spreading in the opposite direction,
though not numerous, indicate significant impact of sub-Saharan cultures on the
inhabitants of the North.
One of the most important figures in this respect is the ancient Egyptian deity Bes,
who has been authoritatively characterized as “certainly African” (see Budge 1904). In
addition to being a deity of song, dance, and merrymaking, he was also a warlord.
Presumably through syncretism, the character of the ancient Afro-Egyptian Bes, along
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with his cult, came to be identified with a powerful Muslim saint named El-Sayyid ElBadawi (1200?–1276), especially among folk groups. Currently, the cult of this saint is
centered in Tanta, in peasant communities in the middle Delta. The crusaders, it has been
argued, borrowed the character of El-Badawi and carried it to Europe where it became
Saint Nicholas, or Santa Claus (see El-Shamy, “The Story of El-Sayyid Ahmad ElBadawî with Fatma Bint Berry”).
Another case that may be cited in this regard, though from Morocco in the western
part of North Africa, is a modern oral text of a trickster tale titled “My Uncle the Spider”:
My uncle, the spider, went hunting and entered the body of a fat cow,
eating her fat and carrying home some for his family. He didn’t touch the
cow’s heart for that would have killed her. Tiger’s wife visited Spider’s
wife and saw all their food. She returned home and told her husband to
become Spider’s friend so they can hunt together.
Tiger went to Spider, but Spider didn’t want to let him hunt with him
for Tiger would kill the cow. Tiger swore that he will not. Both hunt and
Spider gets enough food for Tiger and himself. Next day they hunt, but
Tiger kills the cow. Spider tells Tiger to get inside cow’s stomach; Spider
gets inside her bladder.
Shepherd found dead cow and searches for cause of death. He cut open
cow’s belly; he threw away the bladder. Spider got out. He told the
shepherd to remove cow’s stomach and beat it. Shepherd did this. He
opened it and found dead Tiger.
Grateful shepherd gave Spider half the cow. Spider was happy (Légey
1926, no. 69, pp. 247–48).
Since spiders do not appear in the folk narratives of the region, the text must be judged as
a recent development on the North African scene. Clearly, the tale’s persona, stage, and
plot are typically sub-Saharan, probably about Ananse, the Akan spider-trickster. This
conclusion is reinforced by the fact that the narrator was a black slavewoman in the
harem of the sultan; she had presumably heard it from another black slavewoman.
Other instances of cultural transfer from the South to the North may be found in such
spheres as music (zâr), exorcism, and mythology. The zâr cult is argued to have entered
Egypt and other Arab countries during the eighteenth century, when it was carried into
Egypt by Ethiopian slaves and into the harems of rich rulers and their army generals
(Klunzinger).
The Ancient Egyptian Narrative
The genres and topics of verbal lore in contemporary Africa as a whole may be said to
parallel the recorded literary legacy of ancient Egypt. The literature of ancient Egypt
consisted of sacred accounts of the deeds of gods and demigods (myths), other sorts of
historical narratives, proverbs and counsels by viziers and other wise men, poetry, songs,
hymns, lamentations, funerary spells (typically labeled “magical” by modern writers),
and practical solutions to enigmas such as dreams.
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Notably absent are the fairy tale, humorous anecdotes, and similar nonserious
narratives. Also absent are the equivalents of the modern short story, the novel, and the
play. However, the absence of these genres may be normal at the developmental stage of
literature of a certain time period, or as result of disdain by scribes and copiers for the
nonserious in general. The celebrated “Tale of the Two Brothers,” treated in folkloric
circles as the first märchen (ordinary tale), is thought to have been an account dealing
with two deities rather than two persons. If true, for the ancient Egyptians, the narrative
would have been a myth rather than an ordinary tale (see El-Shamy in Maspero, 2002).
The Märchen among Non-Aryans
In the absence of data from Egypt and other non-Aryan cultures, folkloristic circles in
Europe had accorded the märchen (fairy tale) and its presumed creators a privileged
status. This assumption formed the basis of such theories as Wilhelm Grimm’s, which
attributed the origins of folk narratives to Indo-European (Aryan) peoples. This claim
acquired powerful influence at the beginning of the twentieth century through the
assertion that true märchen existed only within Indo-Germanic linguistic boundaries and
that non-Aryans distorted the märchen, which they had essentially copied from the IndoGermanic groups. Similarly, the “Indianist” theory, suggested by A.LoiseleurDeslongchamp in 1838, and developed by Theodor Benfey and E.Cosquin, was based on
the principle of citing India as the original source of all folktales except Aesop’s fables;
other nations, it was presumed, had derived their tales from Indian sources. Objective
research based on representative field collections reveals that such views are
impressionistic and inaccurate.
Egyptian narrative genres (and genres from other parts of the Arab world), include:
fantasy narratives (haddûtah, khurraifah, hujwah, hikâyah), the novella/romantic tale, the
animal tale (fable), humorous narratives (nuktah, nâdirah, haddûtah), the legend
,
religious tales, myth (khurâfah qasasiyyah) (mislabeled
by most Arab writers),
the epic (malamah, poetic qaîdah [“ode”], typically a versified religious belief or quasireligious belief account, a historical-legendary account), and the ballad (mawwâl qasasî).
Ancient Egyptian Tale Types
Numerous narratives reported from ancient Egypt manifest typological qualities. The
similarities between the ancient texts and modern ones indicates possible direct descent.
Irrespective of how each of these narratives originated, Maspero concluded that
“everything in them is Egyptian from beginning to end, and even the details that have
been pointed out as being of foreign provenance appear to us to be entirely indigenous
when closely examined” (2000, lxxiv–lxxv). Stith Thompson, perhaps influenced by
Maspero’s views, arrived at a similar conclusion: “The tales are given a definitely
Egyptian setting and are closely related not only to the known history and geography of
Egypt but to its religious conceptions and practices as well” (273).
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The Aarne-Thompson Type Index and Egyptian Folktales
The overwhelming majority of Egyptian folk narratives manifest the defining
components of international tale types. The Aarne-Thompson type index is, however,
seriously limited with regard to the treatment of Arabic and Berber folktales, and
especially, Egyptian tales.
Three major deficiencies limit the applicability of the type index to Middle Eastern
materials (including Egypt and Libya). First, only a fragment of the published collections
from the Middle East was included. Arabic and Berber collections available before 1961,
1928, and 1910 were abundant. Second, only a fraction of the tales that comply with the
designated contents of the tale types in the works treated in the type index were
recognized in the list of references to a tale type. For example, Wilhelm Spitta’s Contes
includes twelve tales, of which ten are of indisputable typological character: these are
nos. 1 (AaTh 325, The Magician and his Pupil),
4 (AaTh 465, The Man Persecuted Because of His Beautiful Wife), 5 (AaTh 621, The
Louse-Skin), 6 (AaThs 881, Oft-proved Fidelity, and 883A, The Innocent Slandered
Maiden), 7 (AaThs 706, The Maiden without Hands; and 872, Brother and Sister), 8
(AaTh 410, Sleeping Beauty), 9 (AaTh 567, The Magic Birdheart), 10 (AaTh 590, The
Prince and the Arm Bands), 11 (AaTh 707, The Three Golden Sons), and 12 (AaTh 314,
The Youth Transformed to a Horse. None of these tale types was acknowledged in the
index.
The sub-Saharan African tale is closely related to its counterpart in the North. Indeed,
it is difficult to distinguish between North and South with regard to certain areas that
have served as melting pots for various social and cultural groups: Sudan, Somalia, the
Swahili coast of east Africa, south Arabia, Mauritania, Mali, and the entire southern strip
of the Sahara.
Factors that affect the placement of a group or individual include race and color of
skin, language, religion, and political and kinship-group affiliation, as well as geographic
location. There is one geographical area in which Arab and African traditions
intermingle: shaped like an arch, it extends from the tip of the African Horn and Dar esSalaam in the east across the continent to the northern borders of Mauritania and some
diffuse point south of Dakar in the West. With regard to narratives and other traditions,
many groups in this area manifest varying degrees of similarity to groups in the extreme
north of the African continent.
Nevertheless, we find that some of the renditions most similar to tales told in Egypt
come from the Hottentots, the Basotho, and other southern Bantu-speaking groups.
The nature of these parallels to contemporary as well as ancient traditions in Egypt
awaits further research. Yet, attempting to establish the relationship between
contemporary narratives and their ancient Egyptian counterparts constitutes not a quest
for origins but, rather, an effort to ascertain the stability of a tradition and its social,
cultural, and emotional relevance. Had these ideas and values not been of continuous
significance to their bearers, they would have survived only in the form of scrolls or rock
paintings.
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Conclusion: Lore and Theory
The folklore of northeast Africa in general, and Egypt in particular, manifests qualities
that allows it to the play the role of a bridge between Africa and the rest of the world.
Only within this inclusive context can the various dimensions of folkloric phenomena in
Egypt and Africa be meaningfully understood. Studies that are based on partial or
exclusionary approaches, which view Africa as composed of a North divorced from the
South, are likely to lead to biased or inaccurate conclusions.
A dilemma faced in folklore scholarship is the presence of powerful theories that seem
to make sense from an abstract perspective, but fail when applied to real life uses of
folklore. An example of this situation is pointed out by Hasan El-Shamy in his review of
Peter Gilet’s Vladimir Propp and the Universal Folktale: Recommissioning an Old
Paradigm—Story as Initiation (1998). When applying the “theory” to North
African/Berber and sub-Saharan Hausa tales, with distinct ties to ancient Egyptian
counterparts, the outcome repeatedly fails to substantiate the “theory.” Gilet concludes
the actual life in Africa is wrong, and has been for thousands of years, but the European
theory is right, no matter what.
In the study of folklore, African or otherwise, the first and final objective must be the
folklore itself, in its relevant and applied context.
References
Aarne, Antii, and Stith Thompson. 1961. The Types of the Folktale. FF Communications no. 184,
Helsinki: Academia Scientartum Fennica.; first published by Aarne in 1910.
Budge, Ernest A.W. 1904. The Gods of the Egyptians, 2 vols. London: Methuen.
Coult, Lyman H. 1958. An Annotated Bibliography of the Egyptian Fellah. Coral Gables, Fla:
University of Miami Press.
El-Shamy, Hasan M. January, 1988. Belief and Non-Belief in Arab, Middle Eastern and subSaharan Tales: The Religious-Non-Religious Continuum. A Case Study.
3, no. 9:7–21.
——. 1980. Folktales of Egypt, Collected, Translated and Edited with Middle Eastern and [subSaharan] African Parallels. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
——. 2001. Review of Peter Gilet’s Vladimir Propp and the Universal Folktale: Recommissioning
an Old Paradigm—Story as Initiation. Asian Folklore Studies 61, no. 1:153–57.
——. 1976. The Story of El-Sayyid Amad El-Badawî with Fama Bint Berry, part I, An
Introduction. Folklore Forum 10, no. 1:
——. 1976. The Story of El-Sayyid Amad El-Badawî with Fama Bint Berry, An Egyptian Folk
Epic, part II, text and explanatory notes. Folklore Forum 11, nos. 3–4:140–63.
Ions, Veronica. 1968. Egyptian Mythology. Middlesex, U.K.: Hamlyn.
Klipple, May Augusta 1992. African Folktales with Foreign Analogues, with an Introduction by
Alan Dundes. New York: Garland.
Klunzinger, C.B. 1878, [1984]. Upper Egypt: Its People and Its Products. New York: AMS Press.
Légey, Françoise. 1926. Contes et légendes populaires du Maroc, recueillis a Marrakech, no. 69.
Paris.
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Maspero, Gaston C. 2002. Popular Stories of Ancient Egypt, edited and with an introduction and
classification by tale type and motif by Hasan El-Shamy. Santa Barbara, Calif: ABC-CLIO.
Murdock, G.P. 1959. Africa: Its Peoples and Their Culture History. New York.
Patai, Raphael. 1969. Golden River to Golden Road: Society Culture and Change in the Middle
East. Philadelphia.
HASAN EL-SHAMY
NORTHEASTERN AFRICAN
FOLKLORE (THE HORN): OVERVIEW
The Horn of Africa (or Northeast Africa, as it is sometimes called) is composed of
Djibouti, Eritrea, Ethiopia, Somalia, and Sudan. The region is one of the most unstable on
the African continent. Much of its instability is a direct consequence of its geographic
location, which has historically been both a boon and a curse to the inhabitants of the
area. Its proximity to the Middle East has engendered narratives that have shaped and
informed the internal and external topographies of the region’s identity. This identity—
complex, tortuous, and beautiful—is expressed in its folklore.
The Horn of Africa is home to all three monotheistic religions of the world, and the
folktales of the Horn are a mosaic of its history. They are suffused with the elements of
pre-Islamic Afri-can religion, Egyptian and Arab civilizations, Christianity, Judaism,
Islam, and especially Sufism.
In the beginning was the myth, even before it could be told or written as story. The
myth just was, in the way that the sky was the god whose thunder and lightning were
immediate, fierce, and unavoidable. The myth belongs to what Vico calls, labelling our
human understanding, the age of gods—an age in which there is no distance from the
gods. There is no understanding of an “I” who is a distinct, autonomous being who can
create a story that then becomes a thing unto itself and can be told for generations.
It is only once we pass from the age of gods, and gain perspective and distance, that
we are able to recognize ourselves as separate and to narrate that mythic experience. The
myth, then, is born in this period of new perspective and is already separate from the time
in which it was everything.
At these various stages of our human development, our relation to our gods and our
heroes and indeed to ourselves changes, so that the “we” who tells and the “we” who
listens are not the same as they were when the telling was fresh. Our minds have
changed, and with them the sense of awe in which we hold the mythic elements. The
myths themselves could not have begun to be told until the teller could see himself as a
story-creator, a different entity from the sky/god about which he speaks. The sky/god is
diminished in power and in his mind.
A story from Somalia illustrates the point: “In the beginning of time the sky hung so
low over the earth that a person standing on the ground could touch it with his fingers.”
But women pounding millet with a mortar disturbed the sky until it “could no longer
stand the pain caused to it by the women and receded further and further away from the
earth to where it is now” (Hanghe 1988, 110). The actions of human beings caused the
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sky to retreat and to become, in the process and in the telling, less fearsome and less
awesome.
The belief in a sky god, or Waaq, is common to the Cushitic groups in the Horn of
Africa. These include the Oromos and the Somalis. The notion of God’s retreat from the
world, however, is also found among the Dinka of the Sudan, who also blame women for
the retreat. To finalize the withdrawal, the finch is sent by God to sever “the rope that still
linked Heaven and Earth, thus ending the complete happiness that had prevailed and
turning man into a suffering and mortal being” (Deng 1972, 62). A Somali proverb,
mostly used by women, anticipates the blame: “All that is bad, belongs to Hawa (Eve).”
After the myth and the age of gods comes the age of heroes, of people who are larger
than life; their exploits become the plots of legends. This is the age of poetry, the age of
epics and of metaphorical tropes and modes of expression. This age has given us the Iliad
and the Odyssey. Similarly, it brings us a story from the Borana of Ethiopia. Thus begins
one of many stories of Dido Gawole, the strong man (Kidane 2002, 140):
Dido Gawole was strong. One cannot find a brave and strong man like
him. Wise too he was. At that time the Borana were fighting the Arsi.
They used to fight with shield and spear. In battle even fifty men couldn’t
be a match for him. He was full-hearted. When he fought, if he missed
with his lance, he struck and killed with his shield. Such was the man
Dido Gawole.
Finally, the age of men arrives. This is the age in which we understand ourselves to have
a history and to want to tell the story of that history. This is the age in which we
understand ourselves to have a society we want our children to join and a past that we
want them to appreciate. Our stories begin to have different meanings and different
purposes. Now come stories for their own sakes, stories for amusement, stories for
edification, stories to make children laugh and to frighten them into not disobeying their
parents or straying from home. And stories for adults, too: stories of wisdom that act as
guideposts by which to live a life.
Folklore in the Horn of Africa, as elsewhere, helps humans to come to terms with
ontological and etiological issues. Cattle are important to the psychological, social, and
economic fabric of the Dinka. A Dinka myth accounts for the troubles caused to people
by their need to own and defend cattle. The cow is said to have the last laugh, forever.
Since the Dinka killed the mother of the cow, the cow has perfected the best revenge on
man. It opted “to fight man within man’s own system: to be domesticated to make man
slave for her; to play man off against man; and to cause him to fight and kill for
ownership, possession, or protection of her” (Deng 1972, 2).
Not all encounters between humans and animals are violent. The folklore of the region
is replete with tales that emphasize the connections between the two. There is always
some kind of debt that is due to the animal kingdom. Some animal or another is
implicated in the proliferation of a group. The animal becomes the group’s guardian and,
by extension, its totem. The dispersal of the Nuer in the Sudan is, for example, attributed
to a blue heron. Latjor, a Nuer chief, led his people to new places: “In their search for a
new land, the band, without boats, came across the Nile. A blue heron in the midst of the
river gave Latjor the idea to wade through the water” (Huffman 1970, 2).
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Animals endowed with human consciousness feature prominently in the folklore of the
Horn. Animal stories cover the whole range of human emotions, sentiments, and ideas.
Even though blatant forms of chicanery are not accepted, the stories test and set limits to
accepted behavior. The sly but witty are given a space to flout rules and regulations and
to flaunt their intellectual prowess. In the stories, there is subtle or direct contest of wills
between adversaries. In most cases, the weak and the small dupe the strong. The fox
always outwits the strong and the weak. In the lore of the Amhara in Ethiopia, the dwarf,
Sinzero, outwits his stalwart brothers.
Some tales come to life when the human foibles they were meant ward off are
repeated by the living. Thus, new tales are fashioned out of old tales to suit local needs
and motives. A Tigray tale tells how two friends lose their friendship, sown over the
years and sustained by deep commitment to one another. The two paupers stumble upon
what seems to be a shining treasure on the ground. Each lunges at it. A nasty fight ensues.
A local priest comes to their rescue and shows them the object of their quarrel: an old and
cheap metal comb. The two bald men cringe as the priest asks them which one would go
first to have his hair combed. (Incidentally, this story has come to symbolize the recent
bloody war between Eritrea and Ethiopia. The two heads of state were, before the war,
good friends, and when their disagreements over a barren piece of land came to blows,
people sought solace in the old Tigray tale. Both presi-dents belong to Tigrinya-speaking
groups and should have been aware of the travesty of the bald heads.)
Another cautionary tale from the Borana of Ethiopia concerns three cows, one black,
one red, and one white. One day the black cow whispers to the red one that it would be
wise to dissociate themselves from their white companion because he stands out and is so
obviously an attraction to predators. The red cow agrees, and the two abandon the white
cow. Very soon, he is eaten by a lion. The black cow then thinks to himself that it would
be best to leave the red cow, for he, too, stands out and can attract predators. The red
cow, too, disappears. The black cow stands alone, and his solitude guarantees that it does
not take long for him to be eaten in his turn. It is a story clearly meant to knock sense into
the heads of ornery humans.
This order of things—myth, followed by legend, followed by history—is the precise
opposite of euhemerism, which is the idea that history fades in memory, and transforms
in the fading, to become legendary, and then mythic.
Folktales, whether they are stories of the sky and the earth (myths), stories of great
deeds of warriors or queens (legends), or stories of battles or proverbs or morality tales,
are all stories that are about our very humanness. They are variants on our attempts to
place ourselves in the galaxy and to explain our very existence. It is important to grasp
this so as not to turn these stories into curios brought back from forays into other people’s
cultures.
Like the minds that hold and receive the stories, the stories themselves change and
evolve over time, reflecting the particular histories of the people who hold them. The
folktales of the Ja’aliyyin of the Sudan illustrate how the influences of various
civilizations affect the telling of folktales. There are folktales that show the influence of
the great Sudanese Meroitic kingdom, whose heart was also the center of the land of the
. The kingdom, which thrived for some six hundred years until the year 320, was
ruled at one point by a queen, and there are hints that lineage among the
was
once matriarchal. Folktales that entered the lexicon during a later period, after the
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introduction of Islam to the region, clearly show a different orientation, and yet these
stories co-exist peacefully. One of the most popular concerns a young woman whose
brother vows to wed her. In her escape from an intolerable situation, the queen reverses
the gender roles common to European tales. She leads a band of female companions
fearlessly, outwits an evil ogre, disguises herself as an old man, and eventually wins the
heart of a wealthy an d desirab le yo ung man. (Hu rreiz 1977, 83 1978, 110).
Famous, as well, is the story of Arraweelo, a powerful Somali queen. There are many
versions of the Arraweelo story, in both Somali and Oromo lore, and the version told
often depends upon the gender of the teller. Arraweelo is sometimes depicted as a cruel
queen who castrated men in order to ensure she would have no opposition. Other
versions—told increasingly in the light of recent events in Somalia—emphasize that the
reign of this woman brought peace and prosperity to a land that sorely needed it.
In the folktales, as well, can be read the story of the minds that created them because it
is important to recognize that our human minds—as we are conceptual thinkers, indeed,
as we are readers and writers—could not have developed the way they have without the
oral traditions and the folktales that underlie them. There is a direct line from
understanding the sky as a god, to seeing that a hero is like a god, to telling the cautionary
tales of foxes, lions, and snakes, to holding an intangible concept in one’s head and to
having a symbol on a piece of paper represent that concept.
The folktales—myths, legends, stories, and wisdom—are the bedrock upon which our
ability to think in the way we do rests. And in that sense, the folktales of the Horn of
Africa have everything in common with the folktales of Russia or the British Isles or the
Australian outback, however their specifics might differ.
References
Aboker, Axmed Cali. 1987. The Camel in Somali Oral Traditions. Uppsala, Sweden: Somali
Academy of Sciences and Arts and Scandinavian Institute of African Studies.
Adera, Taddesse, and Ali Jimale Ahmed, eds. 1995. Silence Is Not Golden: A Critical Anthology of
Ethiopian Literature. Lawrenceville, N.J.: The Red Sea Press.
Al-Shahi, Ahmed, and F.C.T.Moore. 1978. Wisdom from the Nile: A Collection of Folk-Stories
from Northern and Central Sudan. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Andrezewski, B.W. 1962. Ideas about Warfare in Borana Galla Stories and Fables. African
Language Studies 3:16–36.
Bader, Christian. 2000. Mythes et legends de la Corne de l’Afrique. Paris: Editions Karthala.
Courlander, Harold and Wolf Leslau, Comp. 1950. The Fire on the Mountain and Other Ethiopian
Stories. New York: Henry Holt.
Davis, Russel and Brent, Ashbranner. 1959. The Lion’s Whiskers: Tales of High Africa. Boston:
Little, Brown.
Deng, Francis Mading. 1972. The Dinka of the Sudan. New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston.
Hanghe. Ahmed Artan. Folktales from Somalia. 1988. Uppsala, Sweden: Somali Academy of
Sciences and Arts and Scandinavian Institute of African Studies.
Huffman, Ray. 1970. Nuer Customs and Folk-Lore. London: Frank Cass.
Folktales: An Interplay of African, Arabian and Islamic Elements.
Hurreiz, Sayyid. 1977.
Bloomington: Indiana University.
Johnson, John William. 1974. Heellooy, Heelleellooy: The Development of the Genre Heello in
Modern Somali Poetry. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
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Kennedy, John G., ed. 1978. Nubian Ceremonial Life: Studies in Islamic Syncretism and Cultural
Change. Cairo and Berkeley: University of California Press and The American University in
Cairo Press.
Kidane, Sahlu. 2002. Borana Folktales: A Contextual Study. London: Haan.
Levine, Donald N. 1970. Wax and Gold: Tradition and Innovation in Ethiopian Culture. Chicago:
University of Chicago Press.
Okpewho, Isidore. 1994. African Oral Literatures. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Vico, Giambattista. 1984. The New Science of Giambattista Vico: Unabridged Translation of the
Third Edition (1744). Thomas Goddard Bergin and Max Harold Fisch, trans. Ithaca, N.Y.:
Cornell University Press.
Verene, Donald Philip. 1981. Vico’s Science of Imagination. Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press.
ALI JIMALE AHMED
RIMA BERNS-MCGOWN
See also Folktales; Maqalat; Myths; Origins and Culture Heroes; Women’s
Folklore: Eritrea
NSIBIDI: AN INDIGENOUS WRITING SYSTEM
The Ejagham of southeastern Nigeria and southwestern Cameroon have developed a
nonverbal form of communication, nsibidi [pronounced in-sib-eh-dee], which is
displayed as two-dimensional signs, three-dimensional forms, and pantomimed gestures.
In its material form, this graphic writing system consists of pictographs and ideographs
based on line drawings, many of which are formed with geometric shapes. Nsibidi differs
from many Western forms of writing in that it is intricately linked to art and ritual.
Individuals may present nsibidi signs in a variety of ways: drawn in the air (gestures) or
on the ground, on the skin (tattoos), and on art forms (dance costumes and masks, stone
monoliths, cloth, funerary sculpture, and jewelry).
Scholars believe that nsibidi originated among the Ejagham, who use it more
extensively than any other group in the region. The spread of nsibidi may have been a
result of Ejagham migrations or their practice of selling the secrets of the Ejagham men’s
Leopard Society (Ngbe) to their neighbors (the Igbo, Efik, Ibibio, Efut, Banyang, and
others). In 1904, T.D.Maxwell, a British colonial officer, recognized the writing system,
which soon became an interest of other Westerners as well. Other reports of nsibidi
appeared at the beginning of the twentieth century by European missionaries, colonial
officers, and ethnographers. Scholars believe that nsibidi is very old, but it is difficult to
determine exactly when it began. Similar signs that appear on carved stone monoliths
(possibly created as early as 200 CE) may provide a clue.
Nsibidi is an esoteric form of knowledge that can only be fully understood by a select
group of people. Various secret societies utilize this system to guard information that can
only be known by its members through lengthy processes of initiation that may take a
lifetime. While the meanings of these signs are often secret, the signs may be seen by the
general public. Some of the most well-known examples of nsibidi have been produced by
the male Leopard Society.
Leopard Society members, who pursue excellence and expertise in the artistic and
intellectual facets of nsibidi, create brilliant displays with their secret knowledge, which
once gave them the power to enforce the laws of the society at large. On ritual occasions,
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members create a dramatic presence by wearing an ukara cloth, which they tie around the
waist to form a long skirt. The cloth may be hand-woven or produced mechanically in a
factory, the latter being more common today. Nsibidi signs are created by stitching and
tying the cloth, which is then dyed in indigo. After drying, the stitching and ties are
removed to reveal the white designs that appear against the deep blue background. Ukara
cloth has an array of signs that uniformly cover the surface of the cloth and refer to titled
positions within the society, secret rituals, and philosophical concepts. Read as a whole,
the cloth is a synopsis of the Leopard Society and a symbol of membership. Today, the
ukara cloth continues to be an important symbol of the Leopard Society, which remains
an important aspect of ritual life and major component of cultural identity for many
Ejagham communities.
Ukara cloth purchased in Watt Market,
Calabar, Cross River State, Nigeria.
Photo © Amanda Carlson.
Nsibidi can also be understood as a spiritual action that is used to govern, punish, and
control individuals and resources. For example, among the Bakor-Ejagham, an Ejagham
subgroup who are based between the towns of Ikom and Ogoja in Nigeria’s Cross River
State, the Ntim society (a traditional policing unit) was using nsibidi to punish people. It
could cause a person to get lost in the bush by using actions like nodding the head or
drawing on the ground. In this way, it could be used to make an injunction for a spiritual
manhunt. This means that no physical action would be directed at the man, but he would
be hunted down and killed in the spiritual realm. To the uninitiated, these actions would
go unseen or undetected. However, this would lead to his eventual death in the physical
world.
While much of the literature suggests that nsibidi is the sole prerogative of male secret
societies, it is becoming more apparent to scholars that women may use it as well. While
there are many restrictions limiting women’s knowledge of nsibidi, there are many
examples of women using decorative, coded signs. Talbot (1912), with the crucial
assistance of his wife Dorothy, published some of the earliest of accounts of women’s use
of signs. Thompson (1984) has also noted many female art forms that are encoded with
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this writing system, such as serving trays, calabashes, women’s bodies, and ritual dress.
Recent research suggests that nsibidi may be used by the women’s secret society Ekpa.
Calabashes, Enyi village (Ekajuk clan),
Bakor-Ejagham, Cross River State,
Nigeria. Photo © Amanda Carlson.
An important aspect of the nsibidi system involves encoding signs with an element of
indirection. The aesthetic of indirection refers to the process of twisting language and
meaning so as to conceal knowledge. Therefore, nsibidi can at times resemble a trick or a
riddle. Talbot writes that “the Ekoi [or the Ejagham] explanation of the name nsibidi, or
more properly Nchibbidy, is that it is derived from the verb nchibbi, ‘to turn,’ and this
has taken to itself the meaning of agility of mind, and therefore of cunning or double
meaning” (1912, 305). For example, when Ekpa women give the sign for “talk,” it
actually means “don’t talk.” Noninitiates would therefore be tricked into doing the wrong
thing.
Individual signs often have multiple layers of meaning that may change over time and
are affected by the context in which it is displayed. For example, one of the most popular
signs is composed of two linking semicircles, one semicircle symbolizing a man and the
other symbolizing a woman. As it appears on ancient carved stone monoliths, this sign
probably referred to the combining of male and female reproductive forces—an
important concept within ritual systems that ensured the fertility of the community in
terms of agriculture and children. In contemporary times, this sign continues to signify
the male and female union. A woman may tattoo this sign on her upper arm, which she
would use to cradle her lover. Here, the design signifies the contemporary concept of
“romantic love.” Several creative individuals have inscribed the symbol onto wedding
bands, incorporing the sign into a Western-based concept of marriage.
Nsibidi has proven to be an adaptable and fluid system, cap—able of meeting the
needs of changing times and circumstances. Expanding beyond the Cross River region of
Africa, nsibidi use was brought to Cuba via the trans-Atlantic slave trade and into
America along the paths of former slaves. In these new contexts, nsibidi flourished
among the Abakua, a Cuban version of the Ejagham Leopard Society. More recently,
nsibidi has been used by contemporary artists in the international arena. Artists in
Nigeria, Cuba, and the United States have incorporated these signs and infused them with
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new meaning through the media of painting, print making, and photography. For many
people, nsibidi symbolizes one of Africa’s many cultural accomplishments, challenging
the stereotype of Africa as a continent without writing.
References
Kalu, O.U. 1978. Writing in Pre-colonial Africa: A Case Study of Nsibidi. In African Cultural
Development, ed. Ogbu U.Kalu, pp. 76–83. Enugu: Forth Dimension.
Macgregor, J.K. 1909. Some Notes on Nsibidi. Journal of Royal Anthropological Institute 39:209–
19.
Talbot, Percy Amaury. 1912. In the Shadow of the Bush. London: Heinemann.
Thompson, Robert Farris. 1983. Flash of the Spirit. New York: Vintage Books.
AMANDA CARLSON
See also Languages; Orality and Literacy in Africa; Textile Arts and
Communication
NUER
See Animals in African Folklore; Evans-Pritchard E.E.; Northeastern African
Folklore (The Horn): Overview
NYANGA
See Central African Folklore: Overview
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O
OKYEAME
Okyeame, an Akan (the major language family in Ghana) title, refers to the position of
the chief’s speech intermediary, or royal orator. He is the liaison between the chief and
his addressees and occupies the most crucial diplomatic and communicative position
within the traditional political hierarchy. Besides being the royal spokesman, the okyeame
is also the chief’s confidante, personal assistant, ambassador, and judicial advocate. He
has also been referred to as the chief’s prime minister and prayer officiant.
The position has sometimes been mistranslated as “linguist” by scholars, in apparent
reference to the okyeame’s skills in public speaking. In formal situations, a chief does not
speak directly to an audience in his presence; he speaks only through an okyeame, who
relays or repeats his words to the audience the latter’s message to the chief must also pass
through the okyeame.
The position of okyeame was first established by the Adansi, the first Akan state in the
latter part of the sixteenth century. This institution with the same title has since spread to
many of the ethnic groups of Ghana. It exists among the Ga, Adangme, and Ewe of
southern Ghana, and evidence suggests that it has parallels among ethnic groups in the
northern and upper regions of Ghana. In certain parts of northern and upper Ghana,
particularly among the Mamprusi, Dagomba, and Gonja, there are clues to the existence
of royal spokesmen—possibly borrowed from the Ashanti, even though designations
given to the position in the north are not cognates of the Akan or Ashanti term. Outside
Ghana, parallels of the okyeame may be found among certain groups throughout West
Africa, for example, in Burkina Faso, Benin, and parts of Nigeria.
Speech Mediation
While the institution of speech intermediary in Africa may have originated within the
royal domain, it has spread to all communicative settings where social status and verbal
wit can be asserted for social and political advantage. Any formal, traditional proceedings
in Ghana involving communication between two or more parties require the use of an
okyeame. Parties at formal meetings may instantly call on one of their numbers to fulfill
the intermediary role of an okyeame, announcing the purpose of the meeting,
pronouncing a party’s donation, or putting across consensus reached. Likewise, he first
receives all messages intended for his party. The position has been adopted within lineage
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groups, who all have abusua akyeame (lineage spokespersons). Similarly, deities and
their priests have abosom akyeame, who interpret the words of the priests to their clients.
The institution was adapted from traditional to modern politics in 1962 by Kwame
Nkrumah, who appointed an okyeame for the state and modified his original functions.
The practice of using speech intermediaries in royal discourse is partly aimed at
creating opportunities for the flowering of language in the relay process. Akyeame (plural
of okyeame) often say “We embellish the chief’s words,” and they compare the treatment
of the chief’s words with the act of making fufu (a basic food made by pounding plaintain
and cassava in a mortar) to facilitate consumption. Besides this, the deployment of
akyeame in formal discourse is an avoidance strategy to preserve the sanctity of royal
space. The very sacredness of kingship among the Akan, and in Africa in general, often
refered to as “divine kingship,” encourages royal seclusion from the world’s dangers.
Chiefs in Africa are considered in close relation to spirits of the ancestors. At the farthest
extreme are the Yoruba kings, whose bodies upon installation are imbued with powers of
dynastic ancestors or gods. Because the king is sacred, care is taken to preserve his
person and maintain his sanctity, through the avoidance of direct contact. It is reported
among the Ijebu of Southern Nigeria, for example, that in the nineteenth century the king
was never seen and, until recently, any communication was made to him through a
screen.
The adoption of various distancing strategies is partly meant to preserve the sanctity of
royal space. It insures the monarch against the perils of face-to-face interaction, where his
person could be defiled, and where speech directed at him may be spiritually potent. The
royal orator, then, becomes not only a mouthpiece, but also the buffer on which all
dangerous words are deflected. Through him, the potency of the incoming spoken word is
palliated and rendered safe for royal consumption.
From another perspective, the issue of speech mediation may be seen to benefit both
parties of royal discourse. The concept of kingship in Africa carries with it associated
beliefs in a king’s spiritual potency, which could be used for destructive ends and which
has to be contained in the interest of order. Among certain groups, including the Akan, a
chief’s slap or curse is believed capable of causing madness. In moments of royal wrath,
an agent is needed to contain the destabilizing forces capable of being activated. Thus
boisterous or undignified remarks indiscreetly made by the chief are instantly softened
and passed on without retroactive damage; for since the royal speech act is not complete
until relayed by the chief’s okyeame, it does not take effect until then.
Speaking through an okyeame leaves room for possible modification, addition of
omitted detail, and the elevation of discourse to a poetic level. Indeed, formal discourse
within the royal domain scarcely qualifies as communication without an intermediary,
who diplomatically rephrases any potentially controversial statements or enlivens bland
language. In the okyeame’s care, royal words may be paraphrased, elaborated, punctuated
with history, ornamented with metaphor, enlivened with proverbs and allegories, or even
dramatized outright. Through the okyeame, royal words are refined, poeticized, and made
more palatable for public consumption.
The okyeame’s role as speech intermediary is made possible because he witnesses all
official transactions involving the chief. He represents him at funerals, reminds him when
he forgets, receives his guests, prosecutes offenders, pronounces judgment, and is
familiar with all official transactions. He is, indeed, the only functionary who has access
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to the royal chambers. The official intimacy between the chief and his okyeame is such
that the latter is referred to as nana yere “the chief’s wife.” Indeed, prior to the
installation of the okyeame, he is “wedded” by the chief and given a ring. On the death of
his master, the okyeame may go through the same rites of widowhood as the chief’s
spouse.
Importance in Society
Prior to the emergence of modern nation states in West Africa, royal spokesmen were so
important that their image at home and abroad was of special concern. Among the
Ashanti, akyeame on royal missions had access to a public wardrobe from which they
dressed in a manner befitting royal emissaries. As ambassadors, they needed to carry
symbols of authority and comport themselves as men of dignity. The practice of akyeame
holding staffs of authority still prevails today. Among the Akan, the staff is covered in
gold or silver leaf.
Akyeame perform their duties holding the staff, on which is embossed an appropriate
symbol conveying a cryptic proverbial statement that depicts royal policy. Every chief
has two or more staffs for his okyeame. The higher a chief’s status, the wider his range of
staffs since an important chief deals with a greater variety of situations and has to match
various occasions with appropriate messages. Inherent ambiguities in such icons of
diplomacy are sometimes exploited to make subtle political comments, which, when
deciphered by the intended target, may lead to a diplomatic crisis. To avert such crises,
royal spokesmen strive to steer clear of ambiguity where no malice is intended. They
strive to comply with norms of propriety to ensure that harmony prevails between
occasion and staff symbolism.
Two examples follow. The symbol of two birds with their beaks touching reminds all
that “When two mouths meet, conflict does not arise.” This is used in settling disputes. It
advocates the use of diplomacy, rather than physical confrontation, in solving problems.
Mutual talk dissipates conflict, it says. Another example has two men seated on a long
bench. This means that “The royal stool is not long enough to seat two.” Such a staff is
taken to judicial sittings dealing with disputes over inheritance. It implies that rules of
succession do not permit joint occupancy; heirs succeed one at a time, and there cannot
possibly be two occupants of a stool.
References
Okpewho, Isidore. 1992. African Oral Literature: Backgrounds, Character, and Continuity.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Peek, Philip M. 1981. The Power of Words in African Verbal Arts. Journal of American Folklore
94:371, 19–43.
Yankah, Kwesi. 1983. To Praise or Not to Praise the King: The Akan Apae in the Context of
Referential Poetry. Research in African Literatures 14:3, 382–400.
——. 1989. The Proverb in the Context of Akan Rhetoric. A Theory of Proverb Praxis. New York:
Peter Lang.
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——. 1995. Speaking for the Chief. Okyeame and the Politics of Akan Royal Oratory.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
KWESI YANKAH
See also Chiefs; Oratory; Proverbs
OLD MAN AND OLD WOMAN
According to Westermarck, old age in Morocco traditionally “inspires a feeling of
mysterious awe which tends to make the man a saint and the woman a witch” (1930, 46).
Indeed, Moroccan proverbs make it clear that respect is due to the males’ “white hairs”
(ibid.). To designate elderly men, apart from precisely the term “white-haired” (shâ’ib,
shîbâni), the following are used in the folktales of the Maghreb: shikh, to indicate and
address, with reverence, a learned gentleman (mostly in religious matters); hakîm, for a
“doctor” in the occult sciences (e.g., Desparmet 1910, 90–122); Qdîm ar-Rây (lit., “old
opinion”) from the narrative cycle of the Banu Hilal, who, because of his perception of
the hidden implicit meaning of things, plays a specific role of mediation among his
people (e.g., Galley and Ayoub 1983, n. 57, 154). Of equally common use in the Arabian
tales of Algeria is mudabbir, a form whose meaning suggests the ability to clear
entangled situations and find pragmatic solutions (e.g., Desparmet 1909, 91, 226;
Bencheneb 1946). An interesting aspect of his function in society lies in his choice of the
metaphorical language to be used appropriately in questions of great issue; such choice
being founded on tacit rules of decency (due to age, sex, kinship) as well as on aesthetic
criteria (Breteau and Galley 1970, 57–66). In brief, whatever status the old man is given
in the tales, he seems to have not only stored knowledge and wisdom from a lifetime of
experience, but also acquired a deep insight into sociability. He intervenes within the
family, or at a wider social level, thus contributing to safe practical settlements among the
members of the group.
In North African folktales, the old man, generally, in his relations with young
individuals, plays the role of the helper (El-Shamy 1995, N 825.2, N 835). As such, he
exercises an important determinant influence, perceptible, for example, from the
treatment of these recurring themes: In one, a young hero, at a crucial stage of his/her
solitary journey (by the spring, at a crossroads, on a faraway mountain, and so on), comes
across an old man. As a reward for a favor asked and fulfilled, the latter gives him
precious, sometimes enigmatic, advice which, if blindly obeyed, ensures success and,
ultimately, social recognition (e.g., Baklouti 1988, 106, 118–121). Another common
sequence has an old peasant or fisherman rescuing abandoned infants from a trunk that he
finds floating on the river or sea. He adopts, feeds, and educates them (e.g., Desparmet
1910, 241–64). Also, there are tales about an old huntsman/sultan who saves a young
maiden lost in the Wasteland. He takes her under his protection and sometimes marries
her and builds a family with her (e.g., Galley and Iraqui Sinaceur 1994, 86–91). In these
three samples, the old man seems to find himself exactly where he is needed, whether he
shows the way to the inexperienced hero and helps him/her to overcome forthcoming
perils, gives a home and education to forlorn babies, or provides a shelter and security in
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married life to a desperate girl. In all these circumstances, the old man appears to be the
bearer of a whole system of values, which he has the privilege and duty to transmit,
exemplify, and perpetuate (Baklouti 1988, 13–15).
The old woman is portrayed as the complete opposite of her male counterpart. In
several proverbs from Morocco, she is said to beat the Devil himself, to do in an hour
what he does in a year, to possess a cunning (kîd or kayd, typical of women) superior to
the Devil’s (e.g., Westermarck 1930, nos. 12, 20, 21). She is apparently such an evildoer
that, as the phrase goes, “May God not forgive her on the day of her death” (e.g., Marçais
and Guiga 1925, 2553).
To designate her in the tales, the ’ajûza (aging, weakening) is used with no real
pejorative meaning. But more common is settût, literally the “sixty-year-old” one; a term
that is notably restricted to females and synonymous with “witch.” Apart from few rare
occasions when she assists the hero (El-Shamy 1995, N 825.3.2) or some other character
(e.g., Destaing 1911, 39; Baklouti 1988, 103), she is invariably a troublemaker (e.g., AT
1353, “The Old Woman as Trouble Maker” and AT 1406, “The Merry Wives Wager”).
Strikingly, while, in this society, a woman is traditionally considered asexual when past
childbearing age, in the folktales, she is either personally or indirectly involved in love
affairs. A widow in the former case, she marries an ogre and, very likely in order to
satisfy her sexual appetite without opposition, persuades him to murder her own son (e.g.,
El-Shamy 12.1; AT 590, 11, “The Treacherous Mother;” Lacoste and Mouliéras
1965:72–87; Lacoste-Dujardin 1970, 503). In the latter, the so-called settût plays the role
of a clever unscrupulous procuress (El-Shamy, 452) who treacherously introduces a man
into the privacy of young maidens while their father has gone on a pilgrimage (e.g.,
Basset 1897, 156–61; Légey 1926, 7–13; Galley 1971, 185–95). In order to be admitted
into a private house, she may pretend to be a midwife and, as such, achieve her criminal
deeds (El-Shamy, 1947; K 2292.5.1; e.g., Desparmet 1910, 231–64). Thus, the most
sacred values, which are the cement of family life, are defiled by such old women.
Mention should also be made of the way the old woman manipulates her listener(s) in
the dialogues of the tales: she uses all the potentialities of language, from the short
enigmatic, sometimes nonsensical, phrases (as in AT 408, “The Three Oranges;” e.g.,
Destaing 1911, 145–48; Baklouti 1988, 41) to the ceaseless outpouring of words (Galley
and Iraqui Sinaceur 1994, 138–93). She then arouses an immediate irrational desire for
something or somebody, at the risk of the victim’s life (e.g., Biarnay 1917, 154–70;
Légey 1926, 40). The protagonist of a Maghribian narrative cycle, a variant of Dalilah in
The Arabian Nights, resorts to such verbal stratagems; she is known in several versions
(Galley and Iraqui Sinaceur 1994, 232–3) under the name of
—an intensive form
which means, literally, “great player” (at the other’s expense); in other words, “expert in
deceit.” She is described “girdling herself” to go out in town, ready for cheating.
Although she claims to be justified in provoking disorder throughout the city, she seems
to destroy, systematically, the belongings of her preys—all males—as well as their
dignity. In this respect, she is not only the antithesis of the old man, but his ruin.
References
Baklouti, N. 1988. Contes populaires de Tunisie. Tunis: I.N.A.A.
Basset, R. 1897. Nouveaux contes berbères. Paris: Leroux.
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Bencheneb, S. 1946. Les contes d’Alger. Oran: Ed. Henrys.
Biarnay, S. 1917. Etude sur les dialectes berbères du Rif. Paris Leroux.
Breteau, C., and M.Galley. 1970. La pastèque et le couteau, In Littérature orale arabo-berbère, no.
4:57–66. Paris: C.N.R.S.
Desparmet, J. 1909–10. Contes sur les ogres recueillis à Blida. 2 vol. Paris: Leroux.
Destaing, E. 1911. Etude sur le dialecte berbère des Beni-Snous. 2 vol. Paris: Leroux.
El-Shamy, H.M. 1995. Folk Tradition of the Arab World: A Guide to Motif Classification. 2 vol.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Galley, M. 1971. Badr az-Zin et six contes algériens. Paris: Classiques Africains.
——, and A.Ayoub. 1983. Histoire des Beni Hilal et de ce qui leur advint dans leur Marche vers
l’ouest. Paris: Classiques Africains.
——, and Z.Iraqui-Sinaceur. 1994. Dyab, Jha, La’aba…Le triomphe de la ruse. Paris: Classique
Africains.
Hilton-Simpson, M.W. 1924. Algerian Folktales, Folklore XXXV.
Lacoste-Dujardin, C. 1965. Légendes et contes merveilleux de la Grande-Kabylie recueillis par
Auguste Mouliéras. 2 vol. Paris: Impr. Nat.; Geuthner.
——. 1970. Le conte kabyle. Paris: Maspéro.
Largeau, V. 1879. Flore saharienne. Histoires et légendes traduites de l’arabe. Paris.
Laroui, A. 1978–79. Vieux contes de Tunisie. Alger: SNED and Tunis: MTE.
Légey, D. 1926. Contes et légendes populaires du Maroc recueillis à Marrakech. Paris: Leroux.
Marcais, W., and A. Guiga. 1925. Textes arabes de Takrouna. Paris: Leroux.
Taos-Amrouche, M. 1966. Le grain magique. Paris: Maspéro.
Thompson, Stith. 1964. The Types of the Folktale. Folklore Fellows Communications, no. 75 and
184. Helsinki: Academia Scient.
Westermarck, Edward. 1930. Wit and Wisdom in Morocco. A Study of Native Proverbs. London:
Routledge.
MICHELINE GALLEY
See Also Folk Tales; Gender Representation in African Folklore; Maghrib;
Typology and Performance
ORAL LITERARY RESEARCH IN
AFRICA
Some of the formative work on oral literature in Africa was done by scholars who
analyzed the texts they collected from basically nonliterary perspectives. Evidence of this
extraliterary interest may be seen from a brief sampling of the works of, especially,
European collectors and scholars. The most striking quality of these early publications is
the sheer curiosity felt by the visitors at encountering something strange, a curiosity that
may be gleaned even from the titles they gave to their works. We see this trait in
Equilbecq’s Essai sur la litterature merveilleuse des noirs (1913–1916). Even Bleek’s
Reynard the Fox in South Africa (1864) strikes us as much with the author’s amazement
at discovering an ostensibly European tale type in Africa, as by his arguably genuine
desire to explore cultural commonalities between widely separated peoples. No doubt
also, the works of the German Leo Frobenius, such as Atlantis (1921–1928, in twelve
volumes), stand as an epitome of that ecstatic pursuit of vanished worlds and other
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exotica that may help European students of culture trace the stages of growth of human
civilization.
History
The curiosity is also recognizable in that collecting zeal, whereby the scholar sought to
put together everything he could find of the oral traditions of a whole people within the
covers of one volume or a few. Henry Callaway’s Nursery Tales, Traditions, and
Histories of the Zulus (1868) comes to mind, as do those catch-all collections of Hausa
lore by scholars like Schon (1885), Rattray (1913, in two volumes) and Tremearne
(1913). Subtitled An Introduction to the Folklore and the Folk, Tremearne’s work, in
particular, gives some evidence of the way this curiosity converged with a certain
condescension, which enshrined the concept of the folk as a (mostly) rural people, judged
unsophisticated or uncouth simply because they did not have the wisdom that Western
education supposedly confers. Although Alan Dundes addressed this prejudice in a
classic essay over two decades ago (1977), it is one that had a very good run in
humanistic scholarship and may still be very much alive in certain circles.
In time, however, this career of peregrine collectivism gave way to a more realistic
concentration of interest—identified with the growth of social anthropology as a
discipline—in the ways of life of manageable or fairly well-integrated ethnic or linguistic
communities. The study of traditional texts as literature may not have recorded
significant gains thus far, but the narrowing of the scholar’s focus somehow guaranteed
that the foundations were slowly being laid for the due recognition of the aesthetic
sophistication of those texts. The perception of the literary character of these texts is
revealed as early, indeed, as the mid-nineteenth century, when Bleek observed that the
“literary activity” of the traditions “has been employed almostm in the same direction as
that which had been taken by our own earliest literature” (1864, xiii). Bleek may, as we
have noted, be considered no more than a bemused amateur. But in the work of scholars
like Marcel Griaule, we soon move from an interest in the cherished traditions of a people
like the Dogon, to a recognition of the idiosyncratic articulation of it by their most
distinguished savant, Ogotemmeli (1948). This singular figure of the traditional wit or
artist was clearly the last to gain its freedom, thanks largely to the old view of “tradition”
as a body of knowledge handed down from generation to generation in virtually
wordperfect form and its bearers as largely uncreative conduits. Still, in the work of a
scholar like William Bascom, there is clear evidence, in the coinage verbal art (1955), of
a gradual shift from an obsession with the functional value of the oral tradition, to an
acknowledgment of its artistic sophistication.
This recognition of the artistry of African traditional texts was facilitated by other
factors. As scholars trained their gaze on ways of life within manageable societies, it soon
made sense to explore the relationships between various traditional forms as components
of a coherent system. Griaule’s appreciation of the complexity of Dogon thought
certainly gained much from his study of their games (1938a) and masks (1938b). This
integrative insight was to reach considerable maturation in the search for traditional
aesthetic principles guiding the artistic life of a people, amply demonstrated by the work
of Robert Farris Thompson. To that extent, the meeting in 1965 of scholars of various
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traditional African arts—music, the plastic arts, narrative and song—in a symposium,
later edited by Warren d’Azevedo as The Traditional Artist in African Societies (1973),
may be judged a turning point in the recognition of the artistic quality of African oral
traditions.
It is in this light that we can fully appreciate the services of Kwabena Nketia to the
discipline of African oral literature. A musicologist by training, he recognized early
enough not only the sophisticated texture of the music played by his people but also the
varied contests—the royal court, funeral rites, and other social settings—of the songs and
chants interweaving the sounds. Together with European scholars like Tracey and
Carrington, he trained our ears to listen to the music in words and within the enabling
context of the instrumentation and the total moment of the event. The benefit of this
interest in enabling context or moment was to be seen in the work of scholars who trained
under Nketia’s guiding genius. Thus in a rather groundbreaking essay, Avorgbedor
(1990) guides us to appreciate that the import of a song text for an audience changes
accordingly as the performer shifts his attention from one auditor to another.
The idea of text brings one to another factor that has helped our appreciation of the
literary or artistic quality of African oral traditions and the contribution of native African
scholars to this development. In the nineteenth century and earlier decades of the
twentieth, there was a great deal of careful classification and analytical study of various
African languages by European scholars. Much of this was done in the service of
Christian missions, striving to win the souls of the “heathen natives” by co-opting the
resources of their unfamiliar speech; still more was work commissioned by colonial and
settler administrations in the interest of adequate understanding and thus effective control
of peoples whose land and resources they had usurped and were exploiting; while others
were an extension of the eighteenth-century interest in tracing the history of civilization
through the comparative study of languages. The efforts of these scholars may be seen in
studies of various southern African languages by Casalis (1841), Madan (1911), Doke
(1933, 1948), and Lestrade (1937); of central African texts by Stappers (1953) and
Boelaert (1955); of Hausa and Kanuri by Prietze (1904) and Lukas (1937–38); of Igbo by
Green (1936) and Ward (1941); of Dogon by Calame-Griaule (1965); as well as the
classification of African languages by Greenberg (1955, 1963) and others.
There is little doubt that most of this foreign effort has advanced our understanding of
the linguistic basis of the literary or imaginative quality of African oral literature; Doke’s
work, in particular, would seem to be a classic effort in this regard. But the severe
shortcomings and unfortunate consequences of these studies have equally begun to be
recognized, as may be seen in the examination of the situation of Igbo by Afigbo (1981).
Thus, while we celebrate the pioneering effort of foreign scholars in drawing attention to
the sophisticated texture of African languages, the insights brought to bear on the subject
by native African scholars, analyzing the internal dynamics of their native speech forms
as well as external influences upon them—for example, Mofokeng (1945) and Kunene
(1965) in south Africa, Lasebikan (1955) and Babalola (1964–65) among the Yoruba of
Nigeria, and Sow (1965) among the Fulani of Senegal—achieves special significance in
the acknowledgment of the imaginative quality of African oral literature.
The participation of indigenous African scholars in the field study of their peoples’
oral traditions may be traced mostly from the 1950s and 1960s, which was both the
heyday of colonial activity in Africa and the period when several African youth were
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beginning to graduate in moderate numbers from colonial academies inside and outside
the continent. As various intellectuals—anthropologists, art historians, linguists,
musicologists, literary critics, writers, and others—directed their focus on fairly integral
communities, their insights became increasingly more representative of the subjects of
their attention. If the quality of texts of African oral literature appearing from this period
is anything to go by, we may safely say that the literary character of this tradition was no
longer much in doubt.
This is what makes Ruth Finnegan’s work Oral Literature in Africa (1970) such a
landmark in oral literary research in Africa. We should bear in mind, of course, that she
was not the first to use the word literature in characterizing the subject of her study. The
foundations for such a concept were laid by the praises lavished by much earlier scholars
like Junod (1913) on the creative genius of African narrative performers and Smith and
Dale (1920) on the virtuosity of their representations. And the word itself has been
applied to indigenous texts by observers and analysts all the way from Koelle (1854),
Bleek (1864), and Burton (1865) to Doke (1934) and Lifchitz (1940). The geologist EnoBelinga’s book, Litterature et musique populaire en Afrique noire (1965) is a modest
survey, mostly of the Cameroonian field, but it should be recognized as among works that
preceded Finnegan in drawing attention to the literary quality of the traditions. Even if we
dismissed these usages as limited perceptions of the claims of the traditions to be judged
on equal terms with literate classics, we should at least credit them with settling the
debate promoted by the likes of Walter Ong (1982, 10–15) even before it had begun.
Finnegan’s work takes full account of a vast array of the work of scholars across the
field, from the earliest generations of the study to its heyday in the 1960s, using the term
literature not only with the merit of historical insight but also with the benefit of training
in the relevant disciplines. Armed with a B.A. in classics and a doctorate in social
anthropology, she earned her stripes with fieldwork in various West African communities
but especially among the Limba of Sierra Leone, from which she published a number of
ethnographic studies and, particularly, the delightful Limba Stories and Storytelling
(1967). This work, in fact, established Finnegan as a key player in the field, for it helped
promote those factors we have come to recognize as ingredients of the peculiar artistry of
the oral narrative performance: the imaginative use of words and the images they conjure,
the idiosyncratic genius of the narrator, and the fervent dialogue between that genius and
the context (human and otherwise) within which it plays.
Only a scholar with such a background could have produced a work of the scope and
depth of Oral Literature in Africa, a solid ethnography of the subject that brings a sense
of history to bear on a moment when African intellectuals, not least the literati, were
basking in the hard-won liberation of their proud cultural traditions from the prejudices of
the past. Partly in deference to this cultural pride but partly also in honest representation
of the full dimensions of her subject, Finnegan strikes a just balance between content,
form, and context even as she casts an enormous historic and geographic net across the
entire sub-Saharan Africa.
Finnegan’s book is pivotal because it put a final stamp of authority on our recognition
of the oral traditions as literature, and even more because it brought a certain sense of
self-assurance to further endeavors in this field. It might not be far-fetched to state that
the establishment of courses in oral literature—and even their designation as
compulsory—in various universities in Africa, including the last bastions of colonial
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indoctrination like Ibadan, owe much to the publication of Finnegan’s book. Her work
coincided, incidentally, with the growth of the so-called science of folklore, especially in
the American academy, and one could sense a certain disciplinary stress in the attempt by
Richard Dorson, the doyen of the discipline there, to undervalue Finnegan’s book in his
superfluous differentiation of the concerns of “folklore” from those of “oral literature”
(1972, 10–18).
Whatever one’s disciplinary outlooks or prejudices, Finnegan’s book has been
responsible, in no small way, for the immense strides taken in the study since the 1970s.
The countless citations of the book by contemporary scholars amply bear this out, as does
the fact that most of their works give the sort of acknowledgment of the literary texture of
the traditions that Finnegan has encouraged.
Collections and Anthologies
The list of these works is long, but a random sampling gives a sense of the generic and
geographic coverage of the oral-literary interest promoted by Finnegan, even when she is
not specifically identified as a source of inspiration. We may conveniently start with
collections and anthologies, which have gained fresh impetus from the entry of native
African scholars in the field. The Ghanaian poet Awoonor was one of the first to
celebrate the literary merit of the oral traditions with his translations first of a collection
of Ewe poetry (1974), then of the oral narratives (1981). East Africa gave us Okot
p’Bitek’s delicate renditions of Acoli poetry (1974) and later of the narratives (1978), as
well as Rose Mwangi’s collection of Kikuyu folktales (1982). There have been several
collections of tales and songs from Francophone countries, among which may be cited
Thoyer-Rozat’s editions of hunters’ chants from Mali (1978 and 1984). Loretto Todd’s
collection of trickster tales from Cameroon (1979) is introduced by a brief treatment of
the literary and imaginative quality of the oral tradition, and Roger Abrahams’s collection
of African Folktales (1983) also has a very stimulating discussion of matters of form and
performance as well as the key concerns of the tales. Harold Scheub’s The African
Storyteller (1990) organizes its Africa-wide collection of tales thematically; there is no
general introduction but, as in most of Scheub’s work, several photographs of narrators in
performance give vivid notice of the fact that these tales are products of imaginative
histrionic as well as verbal representation on the part of the living artists.
Scheub may, in fact, be counted among the first to consolidate the interest in oralliterary research in more recent times with his masterly study (1975) of the Xhosa oral
narrative tradition (ntsomi), a work that appeared in the same series—Oxford Library of
African Literature—as Finnegan’s 1967 and 1970 studies. His work is pivotal in
foregrounding performance as the lifeblood of the oral text. It also epitomizes the flourish
of structural analyses of the oral tradition that we see in studies by Arewa and Shreve
(1975), Anozie (1981), as well as such Scheub alumni as Ropo Sekoni (1990, 1994) and
Rassner (1990). This intensive analysis, especially of the oral narrative, may also be seen
in the works of scholars like Seitel (1980), Cosentino (1982), and Jackson (1982), the
latter two following Finnegan in exploring the Sierra Leonean field. Among other area
studies, we may especially recognize Wande Abimbola’s insider’s view of ifa divination
poetry (1976) which takes William Bascom’s work in this area (1959) one step further;
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Olatunji’s careful treatment of the major features of Yoruba oral poetry (1984); Kwesi
Yankah’s masterly discussions of Akan proverbs (1989) and court rhetoric (1995); and
the analyses of South African oral poetic traditions by Jeff Opland (1971, 1983) and
Elizabeth Gunner (1990). Studies of the oral narrative traditions of Zambian communities
by David Bynum (1978) and Clement Okafor (1983) have also benefited from literary
insights gained from the Harvard school of Milman Parry and Albert Lord. And Zinta
Konrad’s study of Ewe trickster tales (1994) is especially laudable for the way it explores
issues of content and style along with the philosophical and educational significance of
this oral narrative tradition.
Surveys
These studies of national traditions have been supplemented by survey discussions, both
at the local and the continental levels. Eno-Belinga was one of the first in this regard,
following his 1965 work with one that replaced the concept of “popular literature” with
the more professional identification oral literature (1978). His fellow countryman
Kashim Tala gave us a modest view of the field of Cameroon oral literature (1988), while
from eastern Africa, Kipury provided a bird’s-eye view of the Oral Literature of the
Maasai (1983). Lee Haring has offered a quite readable account from an African
subregion with his study of what, following the likes of Bascom and Crowley, he called
the “verbal arts” of Madagascar (1992).
There have also been Africa-wide studies of specific genres. Here, we need only
mention Francoise Tsoungui’s general work on the folktale (1986), which discusses form
and structure as evidence of the artistic merit of the tales and also explores their relevance
to the enabling culture. Of continental surveys of African oral literature, there is the
modest but lucid volume targeted by Jane Nandwa and Austin Bukenya at East African
secondary schools (1983), but very useful beyond that market. Jacques Chevrier’s
L’arbre a palabre (1986) as well as African Oral Literature (1992) by Isidore Okpewho
are a general introductions to African oral literature, devoted special attention to oral
narratives and poetry, recognizing the imaginative qualities of the forms and setting them
within the universe of social and cultural life. My own African Oral Literature (1992)
also belongs in this group of works.
Essays
The above survey concentrates on published books, and mostly monographs at that. But
one should bear in mind that a lot of very useful work has been published in numerous
journals, both in Africa and abroad, concerned generally with African society and culture,
but sufficiently hospitable to issues in African oral literature. There have also been edited
collections of essays that were either presented at special gatherings, such as
GörögKarady’s Oxford symposium (1983), or else published as special issues of
established journals, such as the issue on Oral Literature edited by Lilyan Kesteloot for
Research in African Literatures (1993).
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Whether or not these works acknowledge Finnegan as their source of inspiration, they
are, in fundamental ways, extensions of the program to which her work has been
dedicated: a recognition of the imaginative texture of African oral literature, as well as its
significance in mirroring people’s outlooks and aspirations. Finnegan’s work has been
equally pivotal in a rather different direction. Given its enormous coverage, and the
crudeness of some of the evidence on which it relied, Oral Literature in Africa was given
to some errors of judgment, which some scholars, armed with more dependable material
and the benefit of analytical tools that Finnegan had not fully consulted, were led to
challenge.
Influence of Finnegan
By far the most critical issue on which dissident scholars have revised Finnegan’s
judgment on African oral literature is the epic. “All in all,” she concludes from the
evidence of texts she has reviewed, “epic poetry does not seem to be a typical African
form” (1970, 110). It seems unreasonable to suggest, as did Lee Haring, that “Finnegan’s
argument was misread” (1994, 34) by those who took her to task for it. To be sure, the
texts on which she based her conclusions were poor records of the traditions they had set
out to represent. But then Finnegan, with a background in European literary classics like
Homer, was obviously swayed by such influences as she engaged traditions in which the
line between poetry and prose was even less marked than contemporary scholars like
Dennis Tedlock (1971) have endeavored to suggest.
Right or wrong, Finnegan had, in her brief addendum, dropped a bombshell which
caused an explosion of scholarly effort, from scholars including the author (1977, 1979)
and John William Johnson (1980, 1986), who fundamentally disagreed with her, and
from others moved less by the spirit of controversy than by the urge to contribute to a
growing body of information in a new field. There is now a large corpus of edited texts of
the African oral epic, of which Gordon Innes’s editions of various epics from the
Gambian Mandinka (1974, 1976, 1978) are as representative of the Anglophone initiative
as Lilyan Kesteloot and A.H.Ba’s edition of the Da Monzon epic (1972) and Christiane
Seydou’s editions on Silamaka (1972) and Hambodedio (1976)—within the series of
Classiques Africains published by Armand Colin in Paris—are of the Francophone.
Daniel Biebuyck’s translation of three more versions of the Mwindo epic (1978) than he
had earlier produced (1969) may not have impressed Finnegan, since it sported many of
those errors of representation that she had recoiled from (justifiably, in some cases). But
J.P.Clark’s edition of the Ijo epic of Ozidi (1977) offered a resounding counterpoint both
to the prose/poetry dichotomy and to the question of episodic structure that seem to have
guided Finnegan’s reservations about the epic in Africa.
There have been other revisions of Finnegan’s views on African oral literature. She
doubted that myths were, “on the evidence we have,…a characteristic African form at
all” (1970, 362); the author of this essay, in a book on the subject (1983), sought not
simply to demonstrate the contrary but even to review the parameters on which the genre
was conventionally understood. She also grudgingly conceded—and some African critics
like Echeruo (1973) have echoed her misgivings about—the existence of drama in
Africa’s traditions (1970, 500–17). Studies by Enekwe (1981) and Ugonna (1984) on
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Igbo dramatic masques and by Conteh-Morgan (1992, 1994) on Francophone African
traditions have been very useful in throwing light on evidence that Finnegan may not
have fully exploited in her difficult job of surveying the entire field of Africa’s oral
literary tradition.
Whether a piece of oral literary study is designed purposely as an elaboration of
Finnegan’s insights or as a revision of her view, she was seminal to much of the work
that has been done in this discipline in the last three decades of the twentieth century.
Indeed, the latter kind of effort is perhaps the greater credit that anyone might hope to
give her; for knowledge grows better when an idea or a proposition draws visceral
responses than when it elicits merely a cheerful smile or an appreciative nod.
But what does the future hold for oral literary research in Africa? What resources are
available for further study, and what should scholars working in this field be concerned
with today and tomorrow?
Future Directions
The above survey reveals that, from the dawn of political independence, African scholars
have risen to the task of investigating the oral traditions as their contribution to the
intellectual and cultural liberation of their peoples. But, in the twenty-first century, there
are still far fewer Africans engaged in this study than non-Africans. This is a truly
unfortunate state of affairs, but it is clear why the situation is as it is the available
resources can hardly satisfy the needs of those trained or inclined to do what needs to be
done. Although there are centers and institutes in various African countries charged with
encouraging the recording and preservation of African oral traditions, African
governments have not given them adequate support, partly because the resources have
been mismanaged by successive leaders, and partly because the programs of structural
adjustment imposed upon Africa leave too little for the pursuit of interests that, sadly,
appear to be luxuries.
Some lines of inquiry need to be pursued in this field of study. One in particular
deserves emphasis, and this is the program of recording and documenting oral literature
in ways that respect the oral character of it, by using modern technologies of recording
and preservation. These audiovisual tools are expensive, but doing fieldwork with pen
and paper will take us not much further than the days when the peculiar imaginative
qualities of the oral literature were missed or ignored by scholars with a somewhat
different agenda.
There are two other lines of investigation. In an issue of Research in African
Literatures devoted to women as oral artists (1994), the editors, Omolara OgundipeLeslie and Carole Boyce Davies, charged scholars with ignoring women in studies of
African oral literature. There is no denying that much work needs to be done to correct
the imbalance that earlier works may have encouraged. Happily, some groundbreaking
work has been done in this direction. Harold Scheub led the way early with his almost
total attention to female narrators of the Xhosa ntsomi tradition. Edris Makward’s
charming portrait of a female Wolof griotte (1990), in a tradition many had long
considered a male preserve, is also a notable addition to this necessary service. Thomas
Hale’s study (1998) of male and female artists in the same tradition is a noteworthy work
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of true scholarly dimensions. Karin Barber also published a most stimulating account of
female oriki (praise) poets in a Yoruba community (1991). Finally, in his study of the
tebra poetic tradition of Mauretanian women, Georges Voisset (1994) extended the work
of Norris (1968) and others in rescuing from obscurity the contribution of women to the
maintenance of the artistic traditions of a society lodged curiously between africanite and
arabite.
A final line of investigation focuses on the external relations of African oral literature.
Ethnologists and folklorists have long drawn attention to African folktales as prototypes
of African American traditions, and in the 1960s and 1970s, there was a great controversy
between two groups, led by William Bascom on the one hand and Richard Dorson on the
other, as to how much of that tradition was actually traceable to African origins (see
Crowley 1977 and Bascom 1992).
Without joining the controversy, any African scholar who has had occasion to
examine the oral traditions of the Black Atlantic will have been amazed at how much
common stock there is between the two regions. Two lines of approach are suggested by
some publications in this area. In their book Two Evenings in Saramaka (1991), Richard
and Sally Price present narrative performances from Suriname (South America) in which
audience members interject nuggets of song and tale as often as they please until the main
narrator has quite finished his/her performance. Although the Prices provide no cultural
glosses for this phenomenon, one immediately thinks of similar traditions, especially in
West Africa (for example, the mmoguo among the Akan), and is drawn to a viable
intellectual curiosity: Where do the Saramaka come from?
An equally interesting line of approach is suggested by the posthumous publication
(1992) of narratives whereby William Bascom had tried to prove the African origins of
oral traditions in the African diaspora. One is especially struck by images of the mother
figure in the section titled “Dogs Rescue Master in Tree Refuge,” containing tales
(recorded both in African and diasporic societies) dealing mostly with characters who
find themselves in dire circumstances from which they desperately seek to be rescued.
The mother in the African stories fails to organize this rescue in two instances, while in
the diasporic stories, she fails in eleven, so painfully that she is roundly scolded in three
of the eleven and actually strangled to death in one! Bascom’s collection does not, of
course, pretend to be exhaustive, but here the intellectual curiosity takes on the character
of a political concern: why has the image of mother suffered such a deterioration with the
movement of these stories from Africa to the New World? And who, by the way, is
responsible for such representations of it? In the continuing studies of Afro-diasporic oral
traditions by scholars like Daryl Cumber Dance (1978), John Roberts (1989), Carolyn
Cooper (1995) and others, there is promise of a valuable intellectual fellowship between
scholars committed to exploring the creative traditions of black peoples across time and
space.
We owe it to ourselves and to future generations to keep alive the flames of Africa’s
cultural history. The urgency of this duty is, indeed, forced upon scholars by the steady
indigenization of artistic expression in various media. In art, Nigeria’s Uche Okeke and
Twins Seven Seven, as well as Congo’s Trigo Piula and Cote d’Ivoire’s Ouattara, have
championed the exploitation of mythical themes. In fiction, Ousmane Sembene, Ngugi
wa Thiong’o, and Ben Okri have taken ample strides in exploiting formal patterns of the
oral narrative, while Chinua Achebe and Amadou Kourouma have not hesitated to
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deconstruct the dominant European languages of their novels with elements of
indigenous spoken art. In poetry, the early adoption of oral modes by Leopold Sedar
Senghor, Mazisi Kunene, and Kofi Awoonor has been sustained by the late Tchicaya
U’Tamsi and by Atukwei Okai as well as by Kofi Anyidoho and Niyi Osundare. In
drama, Wole Soyinka’s use of ritual and mythic elements has been a key influence on the
work of his countrymen Femi Osofisan and of the Cameroonian Werewere Liking and
the Ivoirian Senouvo Zinsou. Special credit must be given to those writers who have
chosen to express their creative thoughts in the medium of the indigenous speech: writers
from the earlier generations like the Sotho B.M.Khaketla, the Zulu B.W.Vilakazi, the
Igbo Pita Nwana, and the Yoruba D.O.Fagunwa to the many who followed them. Nor
should descendants of the disapora like Kamau Brathwaite and Paule Marshall, who in
their works have highlighted African traditions enshrined in the racial memory, be
omitted.
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ISIDORE OKPEWHO
See also Institutional Study of African Folklore; Oral Literature: Issues of
Definition and Terminology; Oral Narrative; Prose Narratives
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ORAL LITERATURE: ISSUES OF
DEFINITION AND TERMINOLOGY
The term oral literature has been central to the analysis of the many unwritten forms in
Africa that can be regarded as in some way possessing literary qualities. It normally
refers to such genres as narratives, myths, epics, lyrics, praise poetry, laments, and the
verbal texts of songs; also sometimes to oratory, drama, riddles, proverbs, or word play.
Anthropologists, historians, linguists, and literary scholars have interacted with folklorists
in the study of these forms (well exemplified in this volume), thus laying the basis for an
informed and appreciative analysis of African arts and creativity.
However, oral literature is neither a neutral nor an undisputed term, and, in common
with other potential cross-cultural concepts, it carries its own implicit assumptions. This
entry gives a brief account of the kinds of theoretical issues and controversies it raises
and some of the contending arguments involved.
The Controversial Concept of Oral Literature and Its Background
Contrary to what is sometimes assumed, there is no single “natural” terminology to
describe or classify the arts or technologies of human expression, whether in literate or
nonliterate settings, European or African cultures. The subjects treated in this volume are
no exception. Indeed, due both to their evaluative status and to the historical
circumstances in which African topics were initially studied, issues about appropriate
terminology have attracted particularly heated debate.
Readers of this volume will already have moved beyond an uncritical acceptance of
concepts such as primitive culture, savage communalism, tribal customs, artless nature,
“passive tradition,” “stone-age culture,” and “primitive mentality,” all once used as terms
for describing African cultures. While there is no need to unpick these derogatory and illfounded terms in detail here, it is worth noting that they are still occasionally
encountered. They also form the backdrop to the development of more recent and
carefully considered terminologies.
By the mid-nineteenth century, a few scholars and collectors were already using the
term oral literature to describe African forms (for examples, see Finnegan 1970, chapter
2). The term was brought into wider academic circulation in the Chadwicks’ comparative
work (1932–1940), which treated not just European and Eastern literatures but also the
oral literatures of Polynesia and Africa. From the 1960s, it attained further visibility
through the influential oral-formulaic school, leading to numerous studies of oral
literature world wide (mainly Eurasian, but also some from Africa). Equally important in
an African context was the growing self-confidence from the mid 1960s, as nowindependent African countries organised university-based studies of their own cultural
arts. Here the heading oral literature was often felt to provide a more accurate and
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dignified approach than other currently available terms (and certainly more than the
earlier dismissive terminologies) and to set this form within the highly regarded
international currency of literature. The term is now widely accepted and has been used
extensively by literary scholars, sociolinguists, folklorists, anthropologists, and others
over the years (see references below, and also the influential journal Cahiers de
littérature orale and the International Society for Oral Literature in Africa [ISOLA],
founded 1998).
The concept, however remains contentious. Some scholars reject oral literature as a
self-contradiction: how could something defined as written (Latin litterae, letters) be
simultaneously defined as spoken? Others point out the term’s negative connotations,
implying a failure to reach some supposed norm of [written] literature, and prefer the
more positive orature. Some query the need to be constrained by culture-bound
etymologies or criticize the West-centered elitist stance of excluding African forms from
international literary scholarship. There is also the argument that comparative analysis
regularly relies on extending terms from their “original” referents, and that if oral
literature proves an illuminating phrase, this is more important than philological
pedantry.
Other controversies focus on whether it is either productive or accurate to refer to
“literature” when studying oral expression and communication. One powerful
argument—worth treating seriously—is that this imposes narrowing ethnocentric written
models on forms that may include other elements than the purely verbal and/or aesthetic.
It risks overemphasizing textual features, downplaying the magic moment of
performance, or introducing potentially misleading parallels to genres from the Western
written canon. As against this, the concept of “literature” has been helpful in relating
African forms to a widely recognized scholarly tradition, rather than marginalizing it as
something “different” and “other.” It also encourages an interest in literary and artistic
dimensions, individual creativity, new as well as old forms, and a range of genres (rather
than the undifferentiated “oral tradition”), aspects overlooked in many earlier
functionalist, and even folkloristic, approaches.
The concept of oral itself can be problematic, however. The word is actually
ambiguous, meaning either “unwritten” (thus opposed to written) or “spoken/verbal”
(thus opposed to sign language, visual communication, material culture, etc). African
forms studied under the head of “oral literature” may or may not be oral in both these
senses. In any case, there remain issues about the relative balance in, say, storytelling
between the linguistic and the nonverbal elements (e.g. musical, choreographic, visual,
artifactual). The “oral” qualifier can also be taken to imply a (debatable) distinction
between what is written and what is not, suggesting that it is justifiable to separate the
two or study the one without the other. Even if this was ever acceptable, it certainly
seems inappropriate now as researchers increasingly reveal the complex and multifaceted
ways through which oral and written modes overlap and flow into each other both now
and in the past. (This doubtless applies throughout the African continent, but perhaps
most notably in the areas where Islamic literature has had such a long presence.) On the
positive side, the term oral, where used with due caution, has led into a heightened
awareness of the qualities of unwritten forms and alerted scholars to the rich and varied
artistry of performed literary events.
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The term oral sometimes additionally evokes deeply evaluative assumptions,
surfacing in the so-called literacy-orality debate. It was once conventional wisdom to
assume a generalized contrast between orality and literacy, in which the former was
associated with an early stage of human development and characterised by particular
social and cognitive properties, supposedly typical of “primitive culture”, oral literature
was thus envisaged as intimately bound in with that cultural stage. This viewpoint is still
occasionally found in comments on African forms. However, most scholars of African
oral literature now see this position as yet another example of outdated evolutionist or
colonialist ideologies. They point to the varying ways that oral communication and
expression are used in many differing contexts and periods (including in highly “literate”
modern cultures), and argue instead for nonjudgemental empirical analyses of oral genres
and their multiplicities rather than generalising prior judgement.
Those using the term oral literature, therefore, need to bear in mind its complex and
value-laden background and the debates and counterdebates it has provoked. In one
sense, this is one of its strengths. For assessing the benefits and limitations of the term
leads analysts of African oral forms into a set of substantive and fruitful issues, offering a
challenging focus for scholarly investigation and discussion.
Alternative Terminologies?
The strengths and weaknesses of the concept oral literature are further illuminated by
comparing it with other influential terminologies in the study of African arts and folklore.
For although oral literature is indeed an accepted and convenient general phrase, it is
only one among several competing terminologies. Looking briefly at these can be useful,
not for prescribing some illusory right choice, but for highlighting further issues.
Oral tradition is one familiar term, either for the totality of unwritten material within a
culture or for particular genres such as stories, songs, or historical accounts. It helpfully
reminds us of the cultural expectations and settings of such genres (they are not arbitrary
one-off productions created by individuals in a cultural vacuum) and has been used in a
number of valuable studies of African forms (for example, Haring 1994). The term is not
without its problems, however. It still sometimes carries the implication that the topic so
described is “old,” is shared equally by everyone, and/or has arisen from “the
community” in some “natural” nonpolemical way; its use can therefore lead the unwary
researcher into a number of probably unsupported assumptions. Tradition is also often
envisaged as something precious and deeply rooted. Thus, when participants and/or
analysts class something as part of tradition, this can sometimes be less a cool analytic
assessment than an (implicit) personal evaluation—one that might be misleading,
furthermore, as demonstrated in the research into the processes through which traditions
are created or maintained in specific historical conditions to fit particular interests or
values. Statements about tradition are often intertwined with emotive questions of
national or group identity, so here too a detached assessment can be difficult. If not used
cautiously, the term thus sometimes distracts from other equally interesting issues for
investigation, like a genre’s changes over time, its differential relation to specific interest
groups, or its degree of openness to individual creativity.
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Folklore and its various derivatives (folk art, folktales, folksongs, folk narrative, etc.)
form another influential cluster of terms, plentifully illustrated in this volume. Nowadays,
these substantially coincide with the field studied under the label of oral literature. For
while folklore is sometimes understood in the broad sense of all forms of orally
transmitted tradition, including material culture, its central emphasis has commonly been
on verbal genres. As such, it has long inspired the study of forms that might otherwise
have remained hidden to scholarship, resulting in colossal efforts in collecting and
analyzing narratives, poetry, song, riddles, and proverbs in much the same way as under
the head of oral literature. However, in the past, the two sets of terminology have carried
somewhat different overtones. Earlier work under the rubric of folklore was often in the
antiquarian style, amassing extensive texts with little analysis. The term occasionally still
carries echoes of its original evolutionist focus on survivals, communal creation, and/or
the rural and unlettered “folk.” Apparently, new or topical forms or those created by
individuals that had not yet “sunk into tradition” were, for a time, eschewed by those
using the folklore terminology (for example, Dorson 1972), thus making oral literature
the preferred term for those interested in such aspects of African cultures. However, these
older associations of folklore, while occasionally still surfacing, are now rejected by
leading folklorists, who normally follow a broader definition of the folk and actively
pursue questions about individual creativity, modern forms, and urban as well as rural
contexts.
Verbal art is another often-used term, summarized in Bascom’s classic article as “a
convenient and appropriate term for folktales, myths, legends, proverbs, riddles, and
other “literary forms” (1955, 245). Substantial work has been conducted under this
stimulating concept, which usually also covers songs and poems, together with verbal
processes like naming, rhetoric, or tongue twisters. It tends to highlight aesthetic aspects
and challenges the (sometimes) limited focus of oral literature on lengthy textually
articulated forms by its attention to small-scale spoken arts. It thus facilitates the
treatment of all forms of verbal art together while avoiding the loaded associations of the
term oral. The cost is the loss of parallels with literary approaches, so some researchers
still prefer oral literature, particularly for analysing “literary” genres like heroic poetry or
lengthy narratives. If taken literally, verbal art implies a limitation to words, but most
scholars using the term are now also sensitive to nonverbal aspects of performance.
“Performance” is another key concept, leading to the popularity of terms like
performed art, performed genres, performance literature, and so on. Such terms usefully
alert us to the multiplex processes by which oral literary forms are circulated and
realized, rather than focussing just on the “products” or the texts (see Okpewho 1990).
This terminology thus challenges the model of the essentially verbal, one-line, and singlevoice basis sometimes read into the term literature, by raising questions about the other
elements—and participants—in the performance event as a whole and bringing African
practices within the nowflourishing transdisciplinary field of performance studies.
A more recently developed concept is that of “popular culture.” This raises interesting
issues. It has some advantages over arguably backward-looking terms like oral tradition,
folklore, or even oral literature, looking to new forms and technologies that are of
immediate interest to people today, not least to young people (see, for example, Barber
1996, Furniss 1996). It emphasises the new, not the old, draws attention to everyday, not
just “traditional” settings, avoids the temptations of romantic nostalgia, and widens the
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focus into variegated media, including the mass media, and into (among others) the
musical, artifactual, theatrical, and choreographic dimensions of communication and
expression. The term perhaps has limitations too. Forms regarded as older or more elitist
may get ignored, and a focus on mass media and mass audience sometimes edges out
studies of less visible forms. Another influential trend among some (not all) scholars
using the term is to set an ideological delimitation for its application in relation to social
class and power, or to look almost exclusively to issues of class, gender, or ethnicity, thus
turning attention away from the aesthetic attributes analyzed under other terminologies.
Given these problems, some avoid aiming for an overarching term at all and instead
turn either to (arguably) less-loaded terms like prose, poetry, song, oral texts; to more
precise words for particular genres or practices; or to the native terms themselves. There
is much to be said for specific and localized terms. They avoid imposing outsiders’
terminology, open the door to new combinations and practices that take us beyond the
limiting oral/written dichotomy, and bypass what some still regard as colonialist
terminological dominance; some local terminology will, in any case, be needed for any
detailed work on African literatures and arts. On the other hand, folklorists,
anthropologists, and linguists alike tend to share a commitment to the values of
translation and of a comparative perspective on humankind so as to complement and
transcend the divisions between cultures for the mutual enrichment of both sides. To
avoid parochialism, some cross-cultural terms will probably continue to be sought and
used.
Building on the Concept of Oral Literature
With all its controversies and competing terminologies, an approach to African oral texts
and performances in terms of “literature” still has the valuable advantage of linking into
the spectrum of perspectives within literary studies more generally. Which of those many
perspectives turn out to be most fruitful depends on both the analyst and the nature of the
specific subject under study. But the important—if obvious—point is the availability of
numerous alternative perspectives. Given the earlier picture of African forms as
essentially simple or artless, this is worth stressing. By now, it is acknowledged that, no
more than for conventional written literatures, can African oral literatures (plural rather
than singular) be fully comprehended by simplex expla nations. Their rich multiplicities
can respond to analysis from a whole series of competing or overlapping literary
perspectives.
Thus, the insights and controversies developed in, for example, structuralist,
poststructuralist, feminist, psychological, historicist, narratological, or postcolonial
approaches to literature can equally be applied to oral literature. So too can the various
theories inspired by Marxist or by postmodernist and “cultural studies” perspectives on
literature and culture. The study of African forms also both benefits from, and contributes
to, comparative work, drawing on such concepts as intertextuality, reader-reception
interactions, genre, “discourse,” power, ideology, meaning, imagination, textuality; the
significance of social attributes like gender, age, or locality; or the “poetics” and politics
of texts. It can interact with long-debated issues such as how to define the boundaries of
literature or of art, the relation between individual originality and tradition, or the
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626
essential nature and role of literature. There are perhaps special problems about how to
delimit literature when it is oral and thus not differentiated through the demarcating
symbol of writing, perhaps with no unambiguous divide between lengthy performed
genres at one end and, at the other, minor forms of verbal art, short textual nodes, or
everyday but arguably poetic salutations, witticisms, or anecdotes. But this issue itself is
now being linked into the increasing recognition of the ideological, situational, and
relative nature of the borders that are or have been drawn around the term literature more
generally.
The oral, or performed, qualities of much African literature can also invoke
challenging issues and a range of possible perspectives. There are questions, for example,
about the processes of composition, “communicative events,” or the mechanisms for
dissemination and representation. By now many theorists are sensitive to the multiplicity
rather than uniformity of the “oral”: a complex and differentiated cluster of features,
realized differently in different contexts and genres and interacting differentially with
other media. The arts and settings of performance also raise questions for debate. How
far, for example, is a prime focus on the lead performer or on the words (as in many
traditional literary approaches) realistic in the face of performance features like music,
dance, auditory, and vocal qualities, kinesic features, visual aspects, multivocality,
communicative setting, multiple performers/participants, or the active role of audiences?
Are written transcriptions and translations still acceptable for representing these
performance features, given the increasing availability of other media besides the written
word? Does the concept of “performance literature” have implications for literary theory
more generally (see Gerstle and Hermans 2000–)? Many scholars are currently turning
towards more intensive investigation and debate about the active, multidimensional and
nonneutral processes by which literary forms—written as well as oral—are both
produced and studied.
New developments in information technology raise further issues, extending scholars’
vision beyond written or transcribed words-on-a-page to other media of expression and
leading to an increasing appreciation of the “materiality” of texts. There are new
questions too about the nature of “text.” Once seen as something fixed, bounded, and
stable, the experience of “soft” computer text has uncovered issues about malleability,
relativity, and nonboundedness (issues that will actually cause little surprise to those
acquainted with oral literature).
These varied questions provide a meeting point between the kinds of issues long of
interest to students of oral literatures and those now treated in, for example, media
studies, literary theory, performance studies, or popular culture. The informed study of
African oral literatures has much not just to learn from but also to contribute to the
comparative international study of literature in the widest sense of that term, not least in
its insight into the significance of processual, multimodal, and performance dimensions,
the problematics of textuality, and the role of active—and heterogeneous—participants.
Indeed, it could be claimed that some recent transdisciplinary developments are merely
ways in which other academics are now beginning to catch up with established insights in
the study of African oral literature and performed arts.
Conclusion
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None of the terminologies or approaches can be applied in any mechanical way to the
African forms analyzed and celebrated in this volume. The final choice must be for
individual scholars, weighing up the costs and benefits in the light of particular genres,
settings, questions, or theoretical aims, while, at the same time, recognizing the
complexity of a subject matter that is too dynamic, subtle, and multifaceted for singleline dogmatic reductionism. Contemporary analyses thus need to—and increasingly do—
take account of the insights and challenges summed up in the many contending
terminologies and perspectives. Tradition and folklore remind us that literary genres,
whether oral or written, are not just the asocial creation of isolated individuals, and that
artistry may not lie in words alone. Verbal art and performance usefully direct us to the
performed qualities of art and warn against confining our view just to verbalisation or
high art forms. Popular culture brings in a wider range of media and new developments
in the present, challenging elitist and backward-looking preconceptions. Oral literature
focuses attention on aesthetic, literary, and personal facets, which have sometimes been
obscured in other terminologies as well as in the more blinkered prejudices of an earlier
era. Above all, it brings the analysis of oral forms, whether from Africa or elsewhere, into
the framework of other studies of those accepted riches of human expression described as
literature, both drawing from and enlarging those studies.
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and Sample Surveys, ed. B.W. Andrzejewski, S.Pilaszewicz, and W.Tyloch, Cambridge:
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Barber, Karin, ed. 1996. Readings in African Popular Culture. London: James Currey.
Barber, Karin. and Farias, P.F.de M., eds. 1989. Discourse and Its Disguises: The Interpretation of
African Oral Texts. Birmingham, U.K.: Centre of West African Studies, Birmingham University
African Studies Series 1.
Bascom, W.R. 1955. Verbal Art. Journal of American Folklore 68: 243–52.
Ben-Amos, D., ed. 1987. African Art and Literature. Special Issue, Word and Image 3 no. 3.
Bukenya, Austin. 1994. Understanding Oral Literature. Nairobi: Nairobi University Press.
Chadwick, H.M. and N.K.Chadwick. 1932–1940. The Growth of Literature. 3 vols. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press.
Dorson, R.M. ed. 1972. African Folklore. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Finnegan, Ruth. 1970, 1977. Oral Literature in Africa. Oxford: Clarendon Press; Nairobi: Oxford
University Press.
Finnegan, Ruth. 1992. Reflecting Back on Oral Literature in Africa: Some Reconsiderations after
21 Years. Southern African Journal of African Languages 12 no. 2:39–47.
Furniss, Graham. 1996. Poetry, Prose and Popular Culture in Hausa. Edinburgh: University of
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Furniss, Graham, and Liz Gunner, eds. 1995. Power, Marginality and African Oral Literature.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Gerstle, Drew and Hermans, Theo. 2000-. Reports on Research Projects at AHRB Centre for Asian
and African Literatures, University of London, http://www.soas.ac.uk/literatures
Görög-Karady, V, ed. 1982. Genres, Forms, Meanings: Essays in African Oral Literature. Oxford:
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Haring, Lee, ed. 1994. African Oral Traditions. Special issue, Oral Tradition 9, 1.
Kaschula, Russell H., ed. 2001. African Oral Literature: Functions in Contemporary Contexts.
Claremont: New Africa Books.
Okpewho, Isidore, ed. 1990. The Oral Performance in Africa. Ibadan: Spectrum Books.
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Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
RUTH FINNEGAN
See also Electronic Media and Oral Traditions; Folk Tales; Oral Literary
Research in Africa; Oral Narrative; Oral Performance and Literature; Oral
Traditions; Orality and Literacy in Africa; Performance in Africa; Popular
Culture; Prose Narratives; Radio and Television Dramas; Theater: African Popular
Theater; Typology and Performance in the Study of Prose Narratives in Africa;
Verbal Arts
ORAL NARRATIVE
The utility of the term oral narrative is based in its apparent neutrality in designating a
story or narrative that is spoken rather than written or read. There are numerous types of
narrative that need to be examined in order to understand the range of this term and how
it applies to African verbal art forms.
A story can be conceived as a string of words that conveys events having a beginning,
a middle, and an end. A common type of story is found in the orally performed narrative,
describing events that move a character or characters through one state of existence into
another. Narratologists would generally depict these stages as a movement from
ignorance to knowledge, from poverty to wealth, from single to married status, from
youth to adulthood, from life to death, or variations of these changes of state or status.
These developments are at the heart of almost all known stories, from the briefest tales to
the longest epics. In written literature, the short story, novel, and other post industrial
prose genres adhere to these basic elements of narrative.
Narratives can be comprised of everyday speech interactions, as basic as a lone person
telling another what happened that day or at some time in his or her life. Some societies
preserve their significant historical information in primarily oral formats, with historians
or even non specialists being able to recount important events and characters from
memory. These narratives are often in the form of heroic actions and/or significant
migrations from one place to another. Individuals are able to tell their own life stories in
the form of narratives of achievements and/or failures, and these, in turn, become a part
of local or family histories.
Generically, oral narratives come in many forms. These have historically been labeled
folktales, legends, fables, parables, cante fables, myths, epics, histories, origin tales, and
so on. In the study of oral societies, it is clear that each society has named its narratives
and that these terms are often not exactly equivalent to the generic terms provided by
outside scholars. For example, the Bemba people of Zambia distinguish two types of
imaginative narrative: ulushimi (inshimi, pl.) and umulumbe (imilumbe, pl.). Though both
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types of tale are similar in many ways, the former often contains a song or songs and is
mostly told to children, while the latter usually does not contain songs and is most often
told to adults. The categories are familiar to the Bemba, although there is also no great
care taken to keep the classifications “pure,” in any sense of enforcement of rules of
performance or strictures against certain people telling the respective stories.
Narratives are also classified by the context in which they are performed. For example,
certain narratives focus on past kings or spirits who are important to a society. If they are
recounted at special occasions, sometimes as a part of a ritual, they may be seen to have
religious or even curative significance. Certain forms of divination, such as the Yoruba
Ifa system, include narratives or proverbs in their body of knowledge that are then linked
into the process of establishing the appropriate responses to specific cases. Some tales of
heroes or hunters may be linked to ceremonies of purification for initiation rites or
specific preventative measures, such as before a hunt or a particularly hazardous journey.
In post colonial times, these journeys may include travel to a distant town to work in
mines, industry, or agriculture, or even wayfarers going abroad for study or commercial
reasons.
Sacred or secular, the narratives often have similar plots and activities. In some cases,
the same story may take its particular value from the characters involved. In one set of
tales, the characters may be animals, and all their actions, attitudes, and accomplishments
may be simply seen as humorous and somehow removed from real human concerns. If
the same plots and actions are carried out by human characters, the tales might be seen as
more important or significant in their relationship to the world of people. Even some of
the most intricate or important tales are subject to repetition by anyone who has heard
them. In fact, the continuity of some narratives over time depends on this kind of
transmittal and repetition.
Africa is particularly replete with narratives that treat the adventures of trickster
characters. Though societies from other parts of the world sometimes produce stories
centered on trickster activities, many have inherited the stories from the African diaspora.
Trickster narratives found in the Caribbean, South America, and in the southern United
States can be identified as having African origins. There is a Native American tradition of
trickster stories, but these are often quite different from the African narratives in terms of
characteristics of the trickster and the tone and tenor of the tales. Nonetheless, African
tricksters tend to be small, clever creatures, such as Kwaku Ananse, the spider of Akan
tales; Sungura and Kalulu, the hares of East African and Zambian narratives,
respectively; Mantis, the San trickster; or the tortoise of several Nigerian traditions. The
character of the trickster, the small, clever, and, at times, amoral figure, is often diluted a
bit and found in the person of the young child who is beset by ogres or brutal villains in
other kinds of narrative.
Narrative in Africa reaches a particularly complex, highly textured form in the
performance of epic, which involves a combination of narrative, poetry, and song; the
epic is often sung or chanted to musical accompaniment. The content of these narratives
is usually historical, at least in part, and focuses on a crucial period in the society in
question’s past.
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References
Bascom, William. Oba’s Ear: A Yoruba Myth in Cuba and Brazil. In African Folklore in the New
World, ed. D.J.Crowley. Austin: University of Texas Press.
Cancel, Robert. 1989. Allegorical Speculation in an Oral Society: The Tabwa Narrative Tradition.
Berkeley: University of California Press.
Okpewho, Isidore. 1983. Myth in Africa: A Study of Its Aesthetics and Cultural Relevance.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983.
ROBERT CANCEL
See also Folktales; Legends: East Africa; Myths
ORAL PERFORMANCE AND
LITERATURE
Oral performance and literature are often regarded in contrast to one another. The
relationship between the two types of discourse is a complex one and depends in many
cases on the researcher’s interest and what he or she is seeking. On the one hand, studies
from the 1960s onward have been exploring the concept of “orality” as opposed to
“literacy.” On the other hand, there are many qualities of narrative, form, and imagery
that clearly overlap between the spoken and written word.
It is important to emphasize the differences between oral performance and literature
because, for many years, the former was seen as the progenitor (and less “advanced”
relation) of the latter. This relationship is clear in the earliest evidence of literary activity,
from the Dead Sea Scrolls, to the Epic of Gilgamesh, the Old Testament, and Homeric
epic. At the same time, these seminal works posed problems in form and style that were
only answered when scholars began to see them as products of oral societies. Qualities
often seen as flaws in contemporary literature—repetition, parallel constructions,
episodic structure, rambling speeches, or apparent digressions—were common in these
early texts.
Work begun by Milman Parry in the 1920s, and later carried on by Albert Lord and
others, compared a living epic tradition from Yugoslavia with the remnants of the oral
epic tradition of the Homeric corpus. The similarities were impressive enough to allow
scholars to solve some of the oldest questions about Homer’s compositions. The
repetition, digressions, even the obvious errors due to losing one’s train of thought, were
explained by the dictates of narrating and composing poetic narrative as the performer
went along. Methods of composition were discovered that were based upon the rhythmic
activities of bardic in-struments such as the lute. Oration, furthermore, came to be seen as
a living, interactive art form. (Lord 1960)
Later scholarship by Walter Ong (1967) pointed to similar qualities of composition
and performance in other literary works, in particular, the Bible, and went further to
hypothesize an entirely different sensory mode of perceiving the world. Oral societies
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were based in an orally and aurally dictated environment that was three-dimensional and
founded on sound and its various emotional/intellectual properties. The literate world had
evolved into a visual culture, depending on the private and isolating environment of
reading and writing to keep history, store knowledge, and even argue ideas. The oral
world was a communal one, where ideas had to be voiced in order to be understood,
argued, and perpetuated. The great orators were also among the most respected
intellectuals, the most powerful people in society. In the literate world, ideas flowed in
books and on paper, and they could be read repeatedly for understanding and critical
examination. The spoken word was powerful, though vaporous. Once spoken, it
disappeared. It is difficult for someone to say the exact same thing more than one time.
Therefore, ideas were subject to perpetuation only if they were spoken over and over
again.
Some scholars argued that orally composed and performed narratives were, in fact, not
prose at all. Tedlock (1977) and his contemporaries in the field of ethnopoetics
contended, that prose is a product of literacy. What oral performers of narrative did was
much closer to what literary scholars call poetry. The rhythms of speech, the types of
imagery, the power of the spoken word, and the close proximity of song to speech in oral
performance all moved towards poetic composition rather than prose. This is a
particularly valuable way to discuss the dynamics of performance, which often include
many techniques and interactions that allow speech to approach song and body
movements to approach dance.
Yet it is also important to acknowledge the elements of spoken narratives and poems
that approach literary production. In imaginative narrative, there are crucial elements of
plot, character, action, and theme that are linked to the appreciation of these
performances. Some scholars acknowledge this vital connection by referring to the art
forms as oral literature. Other scholars, treating mostly African verbal arts, who are wary
of a certain degree of ethoncentricity intrinsic in even the term literature, choose to call
the activity and its products orature. Both schools of thought explicitly acknowledge the
equivalent processes of creativity in language, character development, intricacies of plot
or structure, and related factors that go into orally performed narrative or poetry. Oral
performance and literature employ symbolic forms that create metaphor and allegory.
Both oral and written arts are potentially transformative in the ways they can move
audiences/readers.
Early African writers, mission-educated and often working in their own languages,
reproduced tales, proverbs, and riddles as subjects of their literary efforts. Although they
lacked evidence of the dynamic oral spontaneity and verbal interactions between
audience and performer, these works did, in an inadequate way, suggest the themes,
characters, and concerns of African oral traditions.
Contemporary African writers, working in English and French, often include elements
of oral traditions in their literature. In his novels, Nigerian Chinua Achebe has made the
prov erb a key formal and thematic device of his art. Nigeria’s Nobel laureate Wole
Soyinka combines ideas from Yoruba myth, religion, song, and ritual within modernist
frameworks in his plays, novels, and poems. In a controversial groundbreaking novel,
Yambo Ouologuem, from Mali, uses a particularly sarcastic evocation of the traditional
epic bard to set the sardonic tone of his novel Le devoir de violence. In their efforts to
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create an “African” literature, writers take a syncretic approach, selecting from several
artistic traditions, oral and written.
References
Cancel, Robert. 1993. Literature in African Languages: Perspectives on Culture and Identity. In A
History of Twentieth-Century African Literature, ed. Oyekan Owomoyela. Lincoln: University
of Nebraska Press.
Finnegan, Ruth. 1992. Oral Traditions and the Verbal Arts: A Guide to Research Practices. New
York: Routledge.
Lord, Albert B. 1960. The Singer of Tales. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press.
Ong, Walter J. 1967. The Presence of the Word: Some Prolegomena for Cultural and Religious
Studies. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press.
Tedlock, Dennis. 1977. Toward an Oral Poetics. New Literary History 8:507–19.
ROBERT CANCEL
See also Gesture in African Oral Narrative; Oral Literature; Orality and
Literacy in Africa
ORAL PERFORMANCE DYNAMICS
Oral performance is the means by which numerous genres of verbal arts are externalized
through the interaction between performer(s) and audience(s). There is no verbal art
outside of performance. Storytelling, singing, formal orations of any type exist only in
people’s minds until they are spoken, shared. The techniques employed by performers
and the context within which the performances occur comprise the dynamics of oral
performance.
On one level, performance dynamics are linked to the methods or techniques the
performer employs in externalizing the particular genre at any one time. A simple
example of these techniques is the choice of demeanor by a storyteller or bardic
performer of epic poems. This choice is often dictated by the individual’s personality:
serious or comical, authoritative or open to audience concerns. This demeanor is also
influenced by the context of the performance: tied to an important ritual/festival, an
informal gathering around a fire, a competitive situation between performers, and so
forth. Both the qualities of the individual and the elements of context of performance are
also mediated by the expectations of the audience. Do they know the performer and
expect him or her to satisfy their expectations of style or technique? Does the context
suggest a well-known performer should, for reasons of decorum, alter his or her approach
in deference to the situation?
Looking more specifically at techniques that make up any one performer’s style,
certain elements can be catalogued. Does the performer prefer the lengthy exposition of
certain commonly known kernels of imagery, plot, or character development, or is he or
she prone to concise evocation that allows the audience to fill in details on their own,
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based on past performances? A simple example can be seen in the performance of the
epic Sunjata among the Mande people of the Gambia. One bard performed the epic in the
framework of 1305 lines, while another extended the same basic plot and events into an
exposition of 2065 lines (Innes 1974). Some people opt to chant rather than sing their
performances, while others avoid the poetic genre entirely in favor of songless narratives
or the more concise, more compact genres of proverb and riddle.
Another dimension of performance is the methods by which performers learn their
skills and shape them into individual styles. Basically, performers learn in two ways:
formal and informal. The latter is by far the most common for most types of oral
performance. The most common genre of performance is probably song, and songs are
sung at many occasions, from solemn rites to boisterous beer-drinking gatherings.
Singers simply learn from hearing certain songs repeatedly sung over time. Since some
individuals are creatively gifted or inspired, they become singers and composers of songs.
A similar process holds true for storytellers, who learn tales by listening and participating
in the various contexts that spur performances. Most storytellers have heard narratives
performed since birth and begin by repeating tales, some going no further than telling the
same few stories they know over and over. Other performers move to more intricate
manipulation of tales by adding new scenes or episodes and altering them to fit certain
occasions or conditions of performance.
The formal education of oral performers is not common in all African societies, but
the instances of such education are not rare. Often this kind of education is dictated by
the nature of the art form or genre. For example, the singer of Yoruba Ijala poetry often is
apprenticed to an experienced bard. The apprenticeship begins with the student listening
to and learning to repeat what the master sings. After a while, the student is allowed to
perform in concert with the bard, singing along during performances. The final stage is
reached when the student is allowed, or decides, to go out on his or her own (Okpewho
1992). This kind of training is most often tied to the more esoteric forms of oral
traditions: genres such as divination, epic singing, forms that require instrumental
accompaniment, or specialized ritual performances.
The question of audience response and interaction is vitally tied to the notion of
performance dynamics. The oral performer must share the art, or there is no performance;
and part of the sharing is in the response of the audience and the counter response of the
performer. Some generic forms by definition require immediate and continual response.
This includes songs that employ the well-known call-and-response pattern, in which the
singer depends on a chorus to either repeat or augment the lyrics he or she sings. There
are narrative genres that often employ antiphonal cooperation between storyteller and
audience. The riddle and proverb genres depend almost entirely on responses to initial
statements or problems set out by the performer. In fact, in these particular art forms, the
distinction of who is a performer and who is the audience is almost completely blurred.
Further, audiences respond to performers in widely varied ways. This again depends on
the context of the situation and the relationship between the individuals involved.
Sometimes audience support for the performer is strong and encouraging, egging him or
her on with positive comments. On other occasions, the performer is discouraged from
continuing in no uncertain terms.
Although the term oral performance suggests a verbal activity, there are important
nonverbal techniques employed by performers. These are termed by some “histrionics,”
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composed in part of gestures, mime, or the general acting out of portions of a narrative.
Indeed, it is these very elements that create the greatest difference between a text of an
oral performance and the actual event. Much can be communicated by the tone of voice
given a particular piece of dialogue, or the acting out of activities in a tale. A written text
is therefore a mere scenario, the equivalent of a script in a play or film, of the living
performance.
References
Bauman, Richard. 1977. Verbal An as Performance. Prospect Heights, 111.: Waveland Press.
Ben-Amos, Dan. 1975. Sweet Words: Storytelling Events in Benin. Philadelphia: Institute for the
Study of Human Issues.
Innes, Gordon. 1974. Sunjata: Three Mandinka Versions. London: School of Oriental and African
Studies, University of London.
Okpewho, Isidore. African Oral Literature: Backgrounds, Character, and Continuity.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1992.
Scheub, Harold. 1971. Translation of Oral Narrative-performance to the Written Word, Yearbook of
Comparative and General Literature 20:28–36.
ROBERT CANCEL
See also Dialogic Performances: Call-and-Response in African Narrating;
Gesture in African Oral Narratives; Griots and Griottes; Typology and
Performance; Silence
ORAL TRADITIONS
This term is made up of two words. Oral is associated with the spoken or sung word, as
well as the verbalization of sound in general. It is also associated with the reception of
those sounds, that is, the aural activity of listeners. Modes of speaking and interacting
verbally are often given the generic term orality. This term is often opposed to, or seen as
the opposite of, literacy, the latter concept having to do with the written word.
Tradition has historically been employed by several scholarly disciplines. The word is
most commonly used to refer to long-term practices and beliefs of groups of people. It
was often contrasted to the notion of “modern” or contemporary practices. Therefore,
when one spoke of a people’s traditions, the implication was that these were practices
located in the past that had persisted over time, somehow fixed in the social memory, and
at times outlasting their practical relevance into the present. In early anthropological
discourse and later folkloric designations, traditions were associated with the idea of
“survivals” from antiquity.
Long seen as a product, the term tradition has come to be applied to processes since
the later twentieth century. In ethnography and related disciplines, there is a current of
thought that focuses on the ways tradition is continually created and adapted by
contemporary, living cultures. Rather than static, fixed anomalies, traditions are
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considered to be linked to the activities that allow cultures to grow and change in order to
perpetuate themselves. If the products of societies are the result of ongoing creation and
transformation, both the products and their processes can be considered traditions.
When the words oral and traditions are therefore combined, the resulting term
connotes the verbal arts of a society and the creative activities that surround their
production. The range of oral traditions is therefore broad. It includes imaginative oral
narrative, song, proverbs, riddles, and epics. It also designates the more “realistic” verbal
genres such as history, personal narrative, formalized speech, and informal daily speech
that employs tropes or standardized explanations. In all cases, the notion of transmission
by performance and preservation in living memory are important elements of oral
traditions.
These traditions conform to the tenets of verbal arts, whereby they must be performed
in order to be experienced. They otherwise exist only in people’s memories, until they are
verbalized. This is not to say that the traditions are exclusively learned through
memorization or internalization of the words and images that comprise the specific
traditions. In fact, some sources of stories or histories may originate in books, radio
broadcasts, films, or formal schools. The material is, however, transformed into oral
knowledge when it is presented as part of a larger store of ideas, imagery, or forms.
Most genres of African oral traditions generally conform to the categories found in
other parts of the world. One form of oral tradition, which today is not often found
outside of Africa, is the epic narrative. These long, intricate poems, intended for
performance, have been recorded in West, central, and East Africa. Generally, they are
tales of individual heroes who founded states or created new social orders. Most recorded
African epics are sung or chanted to the accompaniment of music. They are, therefore,
impressive combinations of narrative, poem, and song.
A genre that exists on the border between epic and poetry is the praise poem, which, in
some cases, can reach epic length, but sometimes does not have the linear continuity of a
narrative. This genre is found in many areas of Africa, most notably in southern Africa.
Oral traditions perform several societal functions. On the one hand, they constitute
living representations of significant cultural information: history, values, instructions, and
ritual activities. On the other hand, they are a dynamic form of entertainment based in the
development and appreciation of artistic skills of speech, song, mime, gesture, dance, and
instrumental music. Indeed, the elements of social function and aesthetic pleasure
combine in oral traditions to make a highly effective network of cultural expression,
educating and entertaining at the same time. The blurred line between artifice and reality
is the space in which individuals create their statements on cultural issues, confirming or
challenging old and new assumptions, depending on their respective points of view.
These ongoing statements and debates are the means by which the culture renews,
reaffirms, and regenerates itself in words and music.
References
Finnegan, Ruth. 1992. Oral Traditions and the Verbal Arts: A Guide to Research Practices.
London: Routledge.
Okpewho, Isidore. 1979. The Epic in Africa: Toward a Poetics of the Oral Performance. New
York: Columbia University Press.
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——. 1992. African Oral Literature: Backgrounds, Character and Continuity. Bloomington:
Indiana University Press.
Ong, Walter. 1982. Orality and Literacy: The Technologies of the Word. London: Methuen.
ROBERT CANCEL
See also Prose Narratives; Southern African Oral Traditions
ORAL TRADITIONS AND ORAL
HISTORIOGRAPHY
As recently as fifty years ago, some western historians considered African historiography
nothing better than ethnohistory or folk history, worthy of the attention of
anthropologists, but not of professional historians, due to an assumption that the African
continent still lay in a prehistoric period lacking writing systems, civilization, or a proper
sense of history. Such historians mistook the predominance of oral cultures and traditions
and the close relationship of African historical sources to folklore to mean a lack of
historical consciousness.
Indeed, African historical sources are predominantly oral traditions, reported through
time as part of the knowledge, literature, language, and cultural resources of
communities. Yet other sources are contemporary traditions remembered as part of the
personal experiences of people living within a generation. Professional historians classify
this second category of oral sources as oral history. These oral sources represent the
baseline, internally derived data that carry the ideology, philosophy, history, and
worldview of communities. Through the multidisciplinary method, historians are able to
apply the insights of history, historical linguistics, archeology, and the resources of other
disciplines to enrich the evidence of oral traditions, oral history, and folklore.
Africa has not always been a continent more reliant on orality than the written word.
Ancient Egypt was a primary center of origin of the art of writing, and parts of northern
Africa and northeastern Africa have known varieties of writing over many centuries. The
arrival of the Arabs in the seventh century brought Islamic scholarship and a culture of
writing extending from North Africa across the Sahara to the western, central, and eastern
Sudan, and from across the Indian Ocean to the Swahili coast of East Africa. Western
Christian traditions of writing spread inland from the coasts of West, Central, southern,
and East Africa starting in the late fifteenth century. But local and indigenous forms of
writing have also been reported for some of these regions.
Oral historiography has not been an exclusively African mode of historical expression,
nor does oral tradition operate to the exclusion of writing. On the contrary, oral tradition
has been a universal form of historical consciousness, which usually operated alongside
writing. This was, indeed, the case in ancient Egypt, and in ancient Greece, a secondary
center of innovation in the development of writing. When Herodotus visited Egypt (c.
454 BCE), he collected oral traditions from the priests, who were also the custodians of
the archives. The Greek father of the western historiographical tradition was himself a
practitioner of oral tradition and oral history. Historians of Africa use historical footprints
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wherever they can find them, and in whatever form: oral traditions, oral history, foiklore,
ethnography, the linguistic record, archaeological artifacts, and other sources of evidence.
Practice
The antiquity of the use of oral traditions in Africa reported by Herodotus is confirmed
by the record of its use in practice. Manetho the priest (c. 285–246 BCE) wrote the first
extant history of ancient Egypt from hieroglyphic records and from oral traditions. His
chronology of Egypt, based on pharaonic dynasties, has remained the basis of the
discipline of Egyptology. Manetho was followed in the Christian era by a number of
fathers of the early African church, including St. Augustine of Hippo (CE 430). The
Islamic tradition, with its developed systems of hadith and tarikh (traditions and formal
history), quickly produced contributions to the recording of African oral traditions, and
the construction of histories such as Ibn Batutu (1303–1368), Leo Africanus (c. 1494–
1552), Ahmad Baba of Timbuktu (1556–1527), Al-Sa’di (1596–1656), Ibn Fartuwa of
Borno, and others. The Islamic tradition did, in fact, produce a great many local
historians in the western, central, and eastern Sudan, and in East Africa, and northern
Africa. In some of these regions, the chronicle or tarikh became a preferred form of
recording local traditions and interpreting them in an Islamic context. The Kano
Chronicle of northern Nigeria is among the most celebrated, coming down in written
form from the nineteenth century.
The Christian tradition gave birth to a great many written interpretations of African
oral traditions from the late nineteenth century, after the missionary effort took root.
Many of these efforts by African converts were first done in local languages, and later
translated into European languages. The principal examples of these are, from East
Africa: Sir Apolo Kagwa (The Kings of Buganda, 1901, and others), John William
Nyakatura (The Kings of Bunyoro-Kitara, 1939), and from West Africa, Carl Christian
Reindorf (The History of the Gold Coast and the Asante, 1898/1966), Samuel Johnson
(History of the Yorubas, 1897/ 1921), Jacob Egharevba (A Short History of Benin,
1934/1960), and Akiga Sai (The Tive Tribe, 1939/1965). In the same tradition were the
prolific works of Alexis Kagame of Rwanda in Central Africa, and the writings of
Solomon Plaatjie and others of South Africa, Boubou Hama of Niger, and Hampate-Ba of
Mali.
In the 1950s, a number of remarkable professional historians, trained in western
universities, took up the cause of oral traditions in mainstream academic historiography.
Kenneth Onwuka Dike of Nigeria founded the Historical Society of Nigeria, and
preached the validity of oral traditions as historical evidence. His classic work, Trade and
Politics in the Niger Delta, 1800–1885 (1956), although grounded in archival sources,
provided support for the complementary use of oral traditions. Another Nigerian, Saburi
0. Biobaku, used oral traditions more rigorously to support written documents in his The
Egba and their Neighbors (1957). The most thorough use of oral traditions for the
reconstruction of history was carried out by Bethwell A. Ogot of Kenya in A History of
the Southern Luo: Migrations and Settlement (1967). These African founding fathers
were followed by a crop of other scholars, including K.Y. Daaku of Ghana, Isaria
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Kimambo of Tanzania, and D.T. Niane of Guinea, who recorded the epic Sundiata from
the griots of the western Sudan region of West Africa.
Crucial support came from western scholars, the most influential being the theoretical
and substantive work of Jan Vansina, beginning with his publications in the 1960s,
including Oral Tradition: A Study in Historical Methodology (1961, 1965). He became
even more effective as the trainer of a whole generation of graduate students at the
University of Wisconsin. The other significant theoretical publication was Daniel F.
McCall’s African in Time Perspective: A Discussion of Historical Reconstruction from
Unwritten Sources (1964). We note that a great deal of the early studies of oral traditions
were based on recordings or collections made by European colonial anthropologists
administrators, missionaries, or visitors. In Nigeria, the most viable source were the socalled Intelligence Reports of the 1930s, created by the colonial authorities to provide
information on the history and government of various communities.
Theory
Vansina integrated the general advocacy and practice of oral tradition in Africa into a
systematic theory of its use in the construction of professional academic history
according to the rules of mainstream western historiography. He worked from his own
research in the field in the Kuba kingdom of Congo and among other communities in
Central Africa, and from earlier collections of oral traditions going back into the past. He
defined oral traditions as “testimonies of the past which are deliberately transmitted from
mouth to mouth,” and distinguished them from other accounts, that had not been
transmitted over a period of time, being eyewitness accounts, rumors, and so forth, had
not been accepted into the corpus of community traditions. These have now received the
technical title of oral history. Vansina, thus, laid down the essential elements of oral
traditional methodology, especially for centralized states similar to those in Central
Africa, from which he directly derived his theories.
Some of Vansina’s students, his critics, and others working in other parts of Africa
provided complementary insights that led to elaborations and revisions of his theories in
detail. In particular, the consideration of oral traditions as “testimonies” or simple
evidence or source material and the raconteurs or narrators of oral traditions as mere
“informants” had to be revised. Oral traditions had to be seen as interpreted and not
innocently transmitted so that they were histories in their own right and their narrators
were historians rather than informants. Vansina eventually embodied these and other
insights in his Oral Tradition as History (1985).
Case Study
The Niger Delta region of Nigeria is occupied by a variety of ethnic communities, but
predominantly by the Ijo. Their culture reserves a place of honor for elders, the oldest
male being selected as village head in the western delta. Among the eastern delta citystates, special ancestral houses cover the graves of lineage founders and kings. These
ancestral houses become virtual museums for historical relics, regalia, and other
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memorabilia of the ancestors, including, among the Kalahari, sculptural figures
representing specific ancestors, named duein fubara or “foreheads of the dead.”
Among the generally noncentralized Ijo communities of the Niger Delta, knowledge
of the past was not considered the preserve of any specialist, expert, or court historian,
except for elders, priests, and drummers, who had to learn the drum praise poetry (kule),
the equivalent of the Yoruba oriki. The general knowledge view of oral traditions among
the Ijo reflects the multiple forms in which historical information came down from the
past, so that the oral traditions were not strictly demarcated from folklore or oral
literature. Indeed, oral historical narratives were rendered with the same opening and
closing gambits or formulae as were used in the telling of folk tales. As well, folk tales
and historical narratives were both termed egberi, “stories,” only differentiated by the
modifiers lugu, and elemu kura, that is, “stories of the imagination,” and “stories of
former times.” Yet the genres cannot be completely separated since there were also
historical folk tales. Songs (numo), riddles (duu), and proverbs (kabu) were accepted as
repositories of history. Thus, a corpus of riddles among the Nembe are known to recount
the history of the ancient community of Onyoma and of its mythical priest king,
Onyoma-pere.
Prospects
The growing sophistication of studies in African oral traditions and historiography can
gain from further deepening and expansion of its multidisciplinary bases. Historians have
yet to take up Richard M.Dorson’s invitation (1972) to integrate into their work some of
the standard methods of folkloristics. Progress in Africa is stunted by poor funding of the
universities, and in the West, by the low priority accorded African studies in recent times.
The Western cult of theory appears to be currently exercised, among others, by
postmodernism, keen to challenge and attack what proponents term the totalizing
metanarratives of the mainstream, without presenting alternative constructions of African
historiography. The attention seems still to be fixed on methodology and questions of the
truth value of oral traditions. African historians, on the other hand, continue to be
exercised by the practical problems of constructing community histories, and, therefore,
with the problems of dialogue between the academy and the people, and with the
ideology and philosophy of the practice of oral traditions and historiography on the
ground.
References
Alagoa, E.J. 1966. Oral Tradition among the Ijo of the Niger Delta. Journal of African History VII,
no. 3:405–19.
——. 1968. The Use of Oral Literary Data for History: Examples from Niger Delta Proverbs.
Journal of American Folklore 81:235–42.
——. 1968. Songs as Historical Data: Examples from the Niger Delta. Research Review (Legon) 5,
no. 1:1–16.
——. 1971. Ijo Drumlore. African Notes (Ibadan) 6, no. 2:63–71.
——. 1975. Riddles in Nembe. Oduma (Port Harcourt) 2, no. 2: 17–21.
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——., ed. 1990. Oral Tradition and Oral History in Africa and the Diaspora: Theory and Practice.
Lagos: Centre for Black and African Arts and Civilization.
——. 1994. An African Philosophy of History in the Oral tradition. Paths towards the Past: African
Historical Essays in Honor of Jan Vansina, ed. Robert Harms, Joseph C. Miller, David
S.Newbury, Michelle D.Wagner. Atlanta: African Studies Association Press.
Vansina, Jan. 1960. Recording the oral history of the Bakuba, I. Methods. Journal of African
History I, no. 1:45–53.
——. 1961 [1965]. Oral Tradition: A Study in Historical Methodology. Chicago.
——. 1985. Oral Tradition as History. Madison.
E.J.ALAGOA
See also Myths; Oral Traditions
ORAL TRADITION: ORAL HISTORY
AND ZAMBIA
Mbili salala, or mbili sagona, is a Zambian proverb that translates as “history does not
sleep,” meaning that explanations of the past are often revised based on the contingencies
of contemporary events. This proverb speaks about the dynamics of knowledge in
cultures of orality. It also speaks about the consequences of ecological conditions of
radical scarcity, characteristic of much of the central African plateau. In this part of
Africa, low population density and intense competition for survival drives a traditional
political system based on the competing interests of myriad alliances. It is a politics of
contingency, which authorizes revisions of political alliances to keep pace with strategic
decisions about resources. Old alliances are undermined to make way for new ones, and
stories of the past, which must justify new political relationships also are revised to cover
up the old and reveal the new.
The proverb “history does not sleep” identifies history telling as a form of political
argumentation. This is a characteristic of explanations of the past observed by scholars on
the central African plateau since at least 1951 when Ian Cunnison wrote about the
contingent qualities of ilyashi as a northern Zambian (Bemba) idiom for “history telling.”
Cunnison described ilyashi as carrying connotations of “gossip,” “affairs,” and “stories,
as well as “history.” The same is true of the term mbili in the Nyanja-based languages.
This does not mean that past historical circumstances have no value to people who recall
them, but that public determination of their value is a political process.
In rural Zambia, investigation into the past is often referred to as “digging deep”
(kukumba pansi), a description of an activity that looks to resurrect old circumstances in
argumentation about new circumstances. In rural Zambia, it is also said that people only
remember what is useful. In the sedimented layering of passing time, things not useful are
forgotten, tossed aside like rubbish from the village that is tossed into bordering fields.
Recovery of what was not useful yesterday, if it is decided it might be of use today, must
be dug up from the debris accumulated in village fields. The verb “to remember”
(kukumbukila, literally, “to dig for us”) comes from a practiced analogy between memory
and the verb “to dig” (kukumba).
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There are approximately seventy-three ethnic political groups in Zambia, each with its
own distinct identity and history of origins. What one hears of those seventy-three
distinct histories in the palaces of Zambia’s chiefs, however, is less determined by events
in the remote past than by contemporary political circumstances.
These idiomatic practices relating to memory and history telling in Zambia resonate
with Walter Ong’s discussion on the psychodynamics of oral language practices and
knowledges of radical contingency in Orality and Literacy (1989).
References
Cunnison, Ian. 1951. History on the Luapula. Rhodes-Livingstone Papers no. 21. Manchester
University Press.
——. 1963. Kazembe and the Arabs to 1870. In History of Central African Peoples. Lusaka:
Rhodes-Livingston Institute.
Marks, Stuart. 1976. Large Mammals and a Brave People. Seattle: University of Washington Press.
Ong, Walter. 1989. Orality and Literacy. London: Routledge.
Strickland, Bradford. 1995. Knowledge, Power, and Agency Among the Kunda of Eastern Zambia,
Ph.D. dissertation, University of North Carolina.
BRADFORD STRICKLAND
See also Identity and Folklore: The Kunda; Oral Traditions
ORALITY AND LITERACY IN AFRICA
The pair of terms orality and literacy is used less to denote a definition of two
phenomena than an area of debate based on a concern with the implications of technology
for societies. At the heart of the extensive literature in the field lies a set of questions
about whether technologies of communication have intellectual consequences. Do
particular systems of handling information affect thought and social organization? In
debates on orality and literacy, this broad agenda of questions is explored in relation to
how literate technologies interact with, and are shaped by, oral systems of handling
information.
The lineage of these debates is generally traced to the work of Milman Parry and
Albert Lord on the nature of Homeric epics. Drawing on fieldwork among South Slavic
practitioners of oral heroic poetry, this work established a theory of oral composition that
happens in and around formulas and formulaic devices. These are the mnemonic kernels
that performers activate and from which they unfurl their oral texts. This idea of
formulaic composition came to be extremely influential and prompted many studies into
the performance context and formulaic “being” or oral literary genres from a range of
different societies.
In some instances, generalized claims about the universality of an oral style were
made. Such claims suggested an invariable relationship between modality (medium of
delivery) and stylistic characteristics. If there was an oral style, then there could also be
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entire thought worlds shaped around oral poetic formulas. With the introduction of
writing and printing, such modes of thought would shift to produce new ways of thinking
and forms of social organization. In its cruder manifestations, these ideas suggest a “great
divide” between oral and literate societies. These dualities of orality and literacy, in turn,
superseded others like developed/underdeveloped, magical/scientific, Western/nonWestern, and so on. In such scenarios, it often appeared that literacy by itself was capabl e
of bring ing a bout ch an ges in ment, political ideas, economic development, and abstract
thought. It often became something of an article of faith that widespread literacy would
precipitate economic “lift off” in non-literate societies.
This idea of a great divide between oral and literate cultures has been challenged from
many directions. Ruth Finnegan has questioned the confident, generalizing claims that
are made about the changes attributed to literacy. Instead, case studies from different
historical periods and geographical areas indicate that literacy is taken up and used in
diverse ways with manifold consequences. Literacy should not be viewed in isolation
since technologies are socially embedded and are shaped by the social relations into
which they migrate. It is, consequently, difficult to establish any general or universal
patterns for the impact of new technologies on societies.
This set of ideas was also explored in the field of linguistic anthropology and applied
linguistics and came to be known as the New Literacy Studies. Research in this field has
uncovered the rich multitude of literacy practices, multiliteracies, and literacy events in
and across societies.
In terms of African oral literary studies, the initial phase of the debate on oral
formulaic composition-in-performance influenced a great number of scholars. Many
notable works appeared as a result of the application of these ideas and included Isidore
Okpewho (The Epic in Africa) and Harold Scheub (The Xhosa Ntsomi).
Another field in which formulaic analysis of oral texts had an influence was in the
arena of oral history in Africa. As historians came to rely on oral history as a source for
reconstructing the precolonial past, the question of how to historicize information in such
data became important. Vansina, in his pioneering work, adapted ideas of the formula to
suggest that the most conventionalized forms of speech might be the oldest. The question
of how, or indeed if, one can locate such kernels in sheets of testimony has produced
much active debate.
These literary and historical investigations into the oral realm have been important, but
they highlight the extent to which questions of literacy have been sidelined in discussions
of African orality. Indeed, analyses of oral literature in Africa often screen out wider
social forces (including literacy) so that, at times, oral forms appear to exist in a
ringfenced world, cut off from history and social change. Karin Barber, a noted scholar of
Yoruba literature, has suggested that the current field of African cultural studies is
somewhat artifically divided between studies of oral literature on the one hand and, on
the other, analyses of mainstream canonical writers working in Europhone languages.
Barber has instead suggested that the bulk of popular cultural production in Africa
occupies the zone between these two points. Such cultural production also invariably
entails a complex interweaving or “genetic engineering” of oral and written forms. To
engage properly with popular culture in Africa is to come to terms with forms that
straddle not only the modalities of the verbal and written but also forms like cinema,
radio, video, and the like.
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Finally, another outgrowth of the debates on orality and literacy has been felt in the
field of the study of written African literature. Central to this field of study has been the
question of how oral narrative forms interact with written genres. Very often, the
presence of oral forms in written literature was understood simply as the importation of
oral forms into printed guise. Such forms were furthermore often seen as providing the
“essence” that could confer Africanness on texts. Critics like Eileen Julien, drawing
indirectly on debates on orality and literacy, has changed this perception. Oral forms
cannot simply be imported into writing but must be invented anew through the artful
management of linguistic style and register. The way, then, in which oral and written
forms intertwine is multilayered and needs to be the subject of detailed study if we are to
capture the complexities of African cultural production.
References
Berber, Karin, ed. 1996. Readings in African Popular Culture. Bloomington: Indiana University
Press.
Finnegan, Ruth. 1988. Literacy and Orality: Studies in the Technology of Communication. Oxford:
Basil Blackwell.
Ong, W.J. 1982. Orality and Literacy: The Technologizing of the Word. London: Metheun.
ISABEL HOFMEYR
See also Oral Literature: Issues of Definition and Terminology
ORATORY: AN INTRODUCTION
Persuasive communication is used in many spheres of life in both traditional and
contemporary Africa. Where persuasive speaking extends to the public domain, the
challenges are enormous, for the speaker has to deal with audiences of varied social and
political standings.
Oratory, or public speaking, is of tremendous importance in oral societies such as
Africa. This is not surprising since, in the relative absence of writing and modes of
electromagnetic communication, speaking constitutes the single most important mode of
interaction.
In the African world, speech is considered to be free, distinct from the trickster’s
monopoly. Despite his greed and selfishness, Ananse (the Akan trickster who takes the
form of a spider), the source of cultural phenomena, did not make speech the monopoly
of one man. The Dogon people in Mali trace the origin of speech to the fox, while for the
Fang of Gabon, it is the parrot who first brought to man the capacity to speak. Within the
mythology of Akan lineages, the parrot stands supreme. The eloquence associated with
one of the eight lineages follows from their being saved long ago by the cackling talk of
the parrot. The timely speech intervention by the parrot saved the lineage from extinction.
The parrot, that lineage’s emblem, depicts the essence of eloquence. The Akan say, “The
mouth is used to protect the head.” Speech, judiciously used, can save lives.
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The Akim, an Akan-speaking group, believe their eloquence is partly derived from the
natural environment. They believe that the Birim River, of which they drink gave them
the gift of oratory; thus the appellation, “The Akim born, that drinks of the Birim River.”
The power of the spoken word is well recognized in African societies. Being the
embodiment of acoustic energy, the spoken word has an immediate impact, the capacity
to make or break. According to a Yoruba proverb, “Speech is an egg: when dropped, it
shatters.” The Akan of Ghana say, “When the mouth slips, it is more suicidal than the
foot.”
In everyday life, those endowed with the power of effective speech are held in high
social esteem, due to the facility with which they bring stressful situations under control
through persuasion. Despite the importance of good speaking in Africa, most cultures do
not organize formal training in the art, since it comes naturally with exposure to
traditional speech. Children often attend forums for debate and acquire speaking skills,
customary lore, and genealogies by listening to elders. Skills in oratory also come with
certain social and political positions. Several traditional offices require forensic skills in
the exercise of duties. Positions like chieftaincy, headship of lineages, and membership of
juries require considerable rhetorical skills in conflict management. Chiefs, prior to their
installation, go into several weeks of seclusion where their attention is drawn to certain
formal norms of communication. Even so, most chiefs and elders acquire rhetorical
abilities on the job. In Ghana, there are occasional instances of chiefs who have been
dethroned on account of oratorical incompetence.
Rare instances of formal training in oratory may be found among the Tutsi in Burundi,
and also in the West Indies. In Burundi, where the ideals of oratory are stressed among
the upper classes, aristocratic boys are given formal education in speech making from the
age of ten. The content of the training includes impromptu speeches, formulas for
petitioning a superior for gift, funeral orations, self-defensive rhetoric etc. (Finnegan
1970, 449). As a result, Tutsi aristocrats are well known for their elegance in speech.
Among the people of St. Vincent, in West Indies, where “talking sweet” is highly valued
in certain forums, parents not only encourage their children to learn techniques of
oratory, they enter into agreement with men of proven oratorical abilities to formally train
their children in delivery, fluency, and self-comportment in public speaking (Abrahams
1977, 123).
To help contain the hazards of public speaking, the exercise of rhetoric in Africa may
be delegated by dignitaries to surrogates and other speaking agents. Professional orators,
in several cultures of Africa, speak on behalf of patrons, who may be chiefs or other
important personages. This is common particularly in West Africa among the Akan, Kru,
Ga, Ewe, and several other ethnic groups in northern Ghana, Burkina Faso, Benin, and
Cote d’Ivoire.
In Ghana, frequent references have been made by past scholars to the “linguist,” or
intermediary, locally known as okyeame, through whom the chief receives messages from
his audience and speaks to them. On receiving the chief’s message, the orator has the
discretion to edit the royal word—elaborate it with metaphor, proverb, and other
rhetorical devices, paraphrase it, or merely repeat it if well spoken. Without the orator’s
supplement, the patron’s speech act is incomplete as a formal utterance.
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Gender
Rhetoric in many African communities is male-dominated. In certain cultures, women are
forbidden to express themselves in public. Among the Akan, the virtues of ideal
womanhood include abstinence from speaking within the public domain. Women are
believed to be repositories of wisdom and knowledge. Yet, society has considerably
restrained woman’s speech. The chief’s palace, where most public debates are done, is
not always open to women. They are prohibited from entering the premises when they are
in their menses. Communication roles in mixed gender situations are often deferred to
men. According to the Akan, “The hen knows that day has broken, yet it looks to the
cock to announce it.”
Even so, current trends point to a gradual recognition of women in speaking roles. Not
only are women chiefs occasionally found but there are a few instances where male
chiefs have appointed women as their orators (akyeame), on the basis of rhetorical
excellence.
Occasions for Oratory
Occasions that attract rhetoric range from litigation in court, where persuasive speeches
are given by litigants to influence juries, to macaronic diction given by men of words in
the West Indies at feasts and tea meetings. In St. Vincent, home ceremonies and send-offs
provide fitting occasions for speech making, and at tea meetings, speakers may present
the gospel and emancipation stories in ornate speech. Among several ethnic groups in
Africa, sermons, funerals, marriage ceremonies, and even public donations provide fitting
opportunities for speakers to assert oratorical skills. Among the Akan, a public donation
or drink gift is not merely presented. It is accompanied by a brief speech, often replete
with proverbs, archaisms, idioms, and other rhetorical devices. The speaker’s widow’s
mite may be compared with that of the housefly: “A poor fellow I am, not rich enough to
lavish presents; yet even where the housefly had nothing to give, it scraped its offer from
its bare limbs.” A flowery acceptance speech is also expected from the recipient or his
orator.
In Malagasy, marriage requests attract the most elaborate use of kabary, ceremonial
speech, which is highly allusive. Here, two speech makers, representing both parties, start
a contest in which they try to outdo each other in speaking skills (Keenan 1974).
Generally, though, rhetoric pervades most verbal interaction. A beggar in Burundi may
petition a patron for a new pair of shoes in poetic style, referring to his ragged shoe held
together by a safety pin: “One does not hide one’s misfortunes; if one tries to hide them
they will nevertheless soon be revealed. Now I know a poor old man, broken in health
and ill; there is a spear stuck in his body, and he cannot be saved” (Finnegan 1970, 450).
References
Abrahams Roger. 1977. The Training of the Man of Words in Talking Sweet. In Verbal Art as
Performance, ed. Richard Bauman. Rowley, Mass.: Newbury House.
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Albert, Ethel. 1972. Rhetoric, Logic, and Poetics in Burundi: Cultural Patterning of Speech
Behaviour. In Directions of Sociolinguistics, ed. John Gumperz and Dell Hymes, pp. 35–71.
New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston.
Finnegan, Ruth. 1970. Oral Literature in Africa. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Keenan, Elinor. 1974. Norm Makers and Norm Breakers: Uses of Speech by Men and Women in
Malagasy Community. In Explorations in the Ethnography of Speaking, ed. Richard Bauman
and Joel Sherzer, pp. 125–43. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Yankah, Kwesi. 1995. Speaking for the Chief: Okyeame and the Politics of Akan Royal Oratory.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
KWESI YANKAH
See also Gender Representation in African Folklore; Okyeame; Oral Traditions;
Performance in Africa
ORATORY: POLITICAL ORATORY
AND ITS USE OF TRADITIONAL
VERBAL ART
Political oratory is the practice of public speaking. In Western societies it is defined as a
formal, polished discourse that is usually written down and published. Most great
orations in the traditional African context normally are neither written nor published. The
fundamental purpose of political oratory is to influence the audience’s beliefs and
attitudes politically. As in many other societies worldwide, political oratory in African
societies is immediate in its relationship to audience response. As a genre, political
oratory subsumes such categories as speeches of political leaders, praise poetry,
propaganda, and laws.
Okyeame
Africa is a heterogeneous continent that includes thousands of ethnic groups with diverse
linguistic, social, political, and economic systems. Consequently, the distribution of the
types of political oratory is varied. The role of the okyeame among the Akan of Ghana
(Yankah 1995) is different from the compositions and performances of the Shona
marombe of Zimbabwe (Hodza and Fortune 1979). While the okyeame is a leader in his
own right, the marombe, who is a special praise singer to the chief, appears to revel more
in sycophancy than in building alternative bases of authority. These variations among
actors in political oratory do not, however, negate the fact that all of them intend to use
traditional verbal arts either to transform their audience’s dispositions or to reinforce their
already held beliefs and attitudes. Through the use of verbal arts, political orators attempt
to construct frameworks that encourage favorable responses to their speeches within the
broad contexts of their hearers’ perceptions and preconceptions.
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Political oratory in Africa, past and present, varies from place to place. A category of
political oratory is performed according to the situation. Skills that are demanded of
elders who preside over worship are not exactly the same as those that are required of a
dispenser of justice. Similarly, a panegyric suggests different oratorical expectations than
a eulogy. In some cases, however, a political speaker may combine characteristics of
distinctive subcategories of political oratory.
The okyeame (Yankah 1995) exemplifies a multifaceted political actor who, as the
chief’s diplomat, counselor, and orator, accentuates the rhetorical powers of the words of
the chief. Moreover, the okyeame is a symbol who helps to create and sustain the power
and mystery surrounding the chief. The okyeame (Yankah 1995; Obeng 1997) effects a
rhetorical strategy that enables the individuality of the chief to seen indirectly into the
diverse strata of society. The Yoruba of Nigeria have a similar institution. They have a
king, oba, who is regarded as the representative of gods (Karade 1994). The king rules all
living creatures. Due to the preeminence of the king, oratory is used to depict his
distinction from other creatures. Like the Ashanti chiefs, the Yoruba king sends messages
to his subjects through other people and rarely speaks publicly.
Among the Shona of Zimbabwe, the marombe’s role is to elaborate, in hyperbolic
terms, the authority of the chief, calling him, for example, “Lord of the Sun and the
Moon” and “King of the Land and the River” (Hodza and Fortune 1979, 3–4). Masizi
Kunene (1979, xxv–xxvi) reports that literature in the era of King Shaka of the Zulu and
after was used to reaffirm approval and disapproval of the whole nation. The poet and the
singer not only praised leaders but also criticized and evaluated them based on their
deads.
Public Debates
Political oratory in traditional African societies was also employed in public debates. In
complex land disputes, purpetual marital disagreements, or clan quarrels, each party of
the contending groups invested its victory or the possibility of being heard honorably in
the oratorical prowess of its representative or representatives. Chinua Achebe’s Arrow of
God (1964) dramatizes a protracted land dispute in which the rhetorical supremacy of
Ezeulu (the principal character) determines its conclusion in favor of one the villages.
The village of Okperi wins the case because Ezeulu fearlessly and eloquently testifies in
its favor, notwithstanding the fact that he hails from the enemy village of Umuaro. In the
same vein, Jomo Kenyatta (1938) uses his oratory to defend Kenyans’ land rights in the
face of its alienation by the British.
Ceremony
Finally, political oratory is employed to fulfill ceremonial functions. An orator may speak
in recognition of a leader’s achievements or on an important occasion. Conversely, an
orator may speak deprecatingly about a leader or a situation. The Xhosa of South Africa
have imbond yesizwe, literally, “the voice of the people,” whose duty it is to praise and
criticize as the circumstances demand (Diko 2001).
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To Communicate Political Agendas
Contemporary African leaders have used traditional verbal art during the struggle for
independence and after to communicate their political agendas effectively. Kwesi Yankah
(1989) demonstrates how Nkrumah’s post adopted and adapted traditional formulas and
expressive devices to talk about current sociopolitical events. Nkrumah’s speaker graced
presidential functions with appellations meant to boost the image of Nkrumah and elicit
fear in his opponents. In pursuit of this goal, the poet scrutinized the appellations of all
other chiefs in Ghana and applied them to Nkrumah. Yankah reports that it is against this
background that Nkrumah got his title Osagyefo, which means “savior at war.” Although
the title was originally identified with the King of Akim Abuakwa state, it was relevant to
Nkrumah because of his opposition to British colonialism.
Poetry
In Tanzania, traditional poetry was also molded anew and employed to agitate for
political freedom. Saadani Kandoro (1972) wrote an anthology of poetry in Kiswahili
entitled Mashairi ya Kandoro, (“Poems of Kandoro”). Traditionally, Kiswahili poets
could compose poetical epistles to their friends for any number of reasons, including
expression of love, hatred, and apology. In one such poetic letter, Kandoro (1972, 138)
informs a fellow poet about the political happenings in Tanzania. The image of the
colonialist that Kandoro creates is embodied in a snake, which is being attacked by
numerous insects (fighters for independence) united by their common objective of
immobilizing the snake. In the late 1960s, during the politicization and mobilization of
the Tanzanian citizenry to embrace socialist politics, the same poetic traditions were
employed. An example of such a poem is titled “Which Type of Punishment”:
Adhabu gani tuwape, wenye kosa la kunyonya
Wanyonyaji kama kupe, wagande wafe kunyonya
Hawauchi hata kope, vipi tutavyowaonya
Adhalni gani tuwape, wanyonyaji Tanzania?
(Honero 1980, 29)
How do we punish them, those whose crime is to exploit
Those who exploit like ticks, how do we freeze and kill them
They don’t spare even an eyelash, how do we chastise them
Which punishment do we give these, exploiters of Tanzania?
(author’s translation)
The metrical pattern of this poem is a popular traditional renddition, which was
developed and popularized by the nineteenth century Kiswahili poet, Muyaka wa Muhaji
(Abdulaziz 1979). Here, however, it is used to preach the policies of socialism as
enshrined in the ideals of Arusha Declaration of 1967 and, at the same time, attack
opponents of the new political and economic dispensation.
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Songs
Songs are also used rhetorically to communicate political messages. Crane (1971) points
out that, during the struggle for independence in the Democratic Republic of Congo, a
religious group, Kimbangu, was suspected of composing the following subversive song:
Greetings, Lulua people
The white people came and put us in a fence
We who stand a strong column of the Congo
We have our own meetings
Our president walks around with white people
But our chief Kalarnba is only a puppet
He is like a leopard who is fed on dog meat instead of goat
(1971, 42)
Traditionally, it was a humiliation for a leopard, a traditional symbol of royal power, to
eat dog meat, the food for beggars. This song was among other messages that were sent
across the country and culminated in the 1959 riots in the Congo.
Other Rhetorical Devices
Many rhetorical devices are used in political oratory. Tropes such as proverbs,
euphemisms, evasion, circumlocution innuendo, hyperhole, irony, metaphor, periphrasis,
paradox, and personification are applied selectively and opportunistically to bring the
points home. These tropes are highly intertextual in that they rely on other texts, which
are either being affirmed or subverted. Furthermore, the intertextual nature of political
oratory is manifested in its semantic and pragmatic vagueness, ambiguity, and
indirectness (Yankah 1995; Obeng 1997). The proliferation of these devices in political
oratory enables actors within it to construct cognitive structures with alternative
ramifications, possibilities, and combinations as the observer encounters new situations.
Yankah (1995) discusses third-party talk as a pervasive system of rhetorical indirection in
West Africa, expressing itself in circumlocution and metaphorical and proverbial speech.
Samuel Obeng (1997) subscribes to the same view when he observes that politicians,
when talking about risky topics, avoid the direct and obvious and communicate obliquely
in order to protect their interests and gain leverage over their foes. They do so by
engaging in indirect references. Besides using oblique speech, politicians use
circumlocution and evasion to avoid responding to questions or situations without
apologizing.
Metaphorical language in political oratory has two functions, which in some cases are
mutually exclusive. It may used to vivify a point affectively, it may also be deployed to
nonceal meaning. Kenyatta fabricates a fairy tale in Facing Mount Kenya (1938, 47–52)
and allegorically uses it to describe how Kenyan lands came to be alienated through the
insidious trickery of hypocritical treaties initiated by the British. The fairy tale is
Kenyatta’s explanation of the causes of the two world wars and of Kenya’s fight: for
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independence. So many stylistic devices in political oratory are associated with
traditional verbal art that each political event marshals its own as the context demands.
History of Scholarship
Political oratory, and its use of traditional verbal arts, is finally receiving serious
scholarly attention. Nonetheless, the power of traditional cratory was recognized as early
as 1888 (Freeman 1958, 13). Freeman reports on how highly developed an art form
cratory was in West African societies. E.W. Grant (1929) and G.P. Lestrade (1935) have
done studies of praise poetry directed to chiefs and sung by official bards in Southern
Africa. Ruth Finnegan (1970, 1992) has amplified scholarship in the field by identifying
and analyzing various types of oratory in different parts of Africa. Specifically, Finnegan
analyzes the formalized praises, directed publicly to kings, chiefs, and leaders, which are
composed and recited by members of the king’s court (1970, 111–46). D.P.Kunene
followed closely with his Heroic Poetry of the Basotho (1971), in which he describes the
heroic deeds of warriors and kings. Early scholarly efforts in political cratory mainly
focused on the thematic and formal characteristics of the genre.
By far, the most significant work after these early efforts is that of Maurice Bloch and
others (1975). Eloch’s study is intended to demonstrate how traditional cratory indexes
the unquestionable and unchallengeable nature of traditional authority. In craditional
societies, argues Bloch, authority is suggested and evoked by the very language that is
evoked by speakers. Bloch begins his discussion from the assumption that the notion of a
conscious exercise of power is not applicable in a society where socialization permeates
in an unconscious and acceptable way. Consequently, formalization of cratorical
discourse, the repeated emphasis of topic, adumbrates the absolute authority of elders
over other members of the society. For example, in Bloch’s view, there is a direct
correspondence between fixed formal styles among the Merina of Madagascar and the
stringent social control that obtains in that society.
Other studies disagree with Bloch. According to Paine (1981), even in communities
that are said to be authoritarian, language is used in a flexible way. Paine insists that
formalization is a rhetorical device through which speakers stimulate audiences to go on
listening to them. Formal cratory creates and sustains the power of royalty, and any
political center has symbols that help it to extend power beyond its immediate confines.
These symbols may be verbal or physical objects, which are either handed down
traditionally or constructed in the course of time or both.
Kwesi Yankah’s study of the okyeame (1995) is perhaps the most authoritative
statement to date on political oratory and its use of traditional verbal art. Applying
insights drawn from pragmatics, anthropology, and folkloristics, Yankah demonstrates
that the study of communication is governed by culturebound rules. The description and
analysis of the role of the okyeame in the context of message production and reception
foregrounds the significance of senders and receivers of messages as primary actors in
communication. Beneath this sender/receiver relationship, there is a dynamic that
traditional verbal arts are perpetually subjected to as contexts of communication change.
Based on insights gained from linguistic anthropology, such as Durant (1997), and
Yankah’s studies, researchers in political rhetoric, such as Samuel G.Obeng (1997), seek
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to illus-trate how metaphors and other devices of speech are opportunistically used by
political functionaries, speak without taking responsibility for the many conflecting
interpretations of their speeches that may be result.
References
Abdulaziz, M.K. 1979. Muyaka: 19th Century Swahili Popular Poetry. Nairobi: Kenya Literature
Bureau.
Achebe, Chinua. 1964. Arrow of God. London: Heinemann.
Bloch, Maurice, ed. 1975. Political Language and Oratory in Traditional Societies. London:
Academic Press.
Crane, Louise. 1971. The Land and People of Congo. Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott.
Diko, Nolutho. Personal communication, April, 2001.
Durant, Alessandro. 1997. Linguistic Anthropology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Finnegan, Ruth. 1970. Oral Literature in Africa. London: Oxford University Press.
——. 1992. Oral Poetry. Its Nature, Significance and Social Context. Bloomington: Indiana
University Press.
Freeman, R.A. Journey to Ashantee, 1988. In Pageant of Ghana, ed. Freda Wolfaon. London:
Oxford University Press, 1958.
Grant, E.W. 1927. The Izibongo of the Zulu Chiefs. Bantu Studies 111, no. 3:201–44.
Hodza, A.C., and G.Fortune. 1979, Shona Praise Poetry. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Honero, L.N., et al. 1980. Matunda ya Azimio. Dar es Salaam: Taasisi ya Lugha.
Kandoro, Saadani. 1972. Mashairi ya Kandoro. Dar es Salaam: Mwanachi.
Karode, Ifa. 1994. The Handbook of Yoruba Religious Concepts, York Beach, ME: S. Weiser.
Kenyatta, Jomo. 1938. Facing Mount Kanya. London: Martin Seeker and Warburg.
Kunene, Daniel P. 1971. Heroic Poetry of the Basotho. Oxford: Oxford Library of African
Literature.
Kunene, Mazisi. 1979. Emperor Shaka the Great: A Zulu Epic. London: Heinemann.
Lestrade, G.P. 1935. Bantu Praise Poems. The Critic IV, No. 1:1–10
Obeng, Samuel G. 1997. Language and Politics: Indirectness, in Political Discourse. Discourse and
Society 8, no. 41:49–82.
Paine, Robert, ed. 1981. Politically Speaking: Cross Cultural Studies of Rhetoric. Philadelphia:
Institute for the Study of Human Issues.
Yankah, Kwesi. 1995. Speaking for the Chief. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
——. 1989. Creativity and Traditional Rhetoric: Nkrumah’s Personal Poet and His Son. In
Literature and National Consciousness , ed., Ernest Emenyou. Ibadan: Heinemann Educational
Books.
RICHARD M.WAFULA
ORIGINS AND CULTURE HEROES:
NILOTIC PEOPLES
Broadly considered, folklore refers to cultural traditions that are passed from generation
to generation. This brief essay attempts to illustrate some common themes in the folklore
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of the Niloticspeaking peoples of the southern Sudan. Although we do not possess a
detailed account of Nilotic history, it is agreed that peoples of this region of Africa—the
Shilluk, Anuak, Dinka, Nuer, and Atuot—share a common historical affinity. It is thus
more reasonable to call attention to common themes in Nilotic folklore than to focus
solely on any single ethnic group.
Though the Nuer possess elaborate means of bodily adornment and finely crafted
utilitarian artifacts, their material culture is fairly sparse. In this light, Evans-Pritchard
(1956, 43) suggested that “lacking plastic and visual arts, the imagination of this sensitive
people finds its sole expression in ideas, image and words.” The same can be said of all
Nilotic people, and it can be added that, given the significance of oral tradition to guide
and interpret life’s offerings, folkloristic genres often have pragmatic as well as
mnemonic consequences. Lienhardt (1975, 213–14) suggests that many oral traditions
are, in their substance, held to be historical by those who tell them and may thus be
regarded as legends, a term that reflects their historical validity.
Nilotic creation myths have common cross-cultural themes. The most common is that
in a world prior to this one, known by common experience, the normal order of existence
was inverted. For example, at some point in the past, life was timeless and carefree, but
with the advent of human agency, death emerged. And with this came the essential
perplexities of human existence: time, consciousness, mortality, and sin.
This general theme appears in Nilotic folklore on the origins of human beings and
death—the two seem ever contingent. Among the Shilluk, the legend exists that many
generations ago a culture hero (or in metaphorical language, a “spiritual image”) emerged
from a river in the form of Nyikang, the spiritual manifestation of Shilluk ethnogenesis.
Nyikang is thought of as a spiritual agent that created the Shilluk people as well as the
legitimizing agent that gave rise to the tradition of divine kingship in Shilluk society. In
each human generation, the spirit of Nyikang is reborn in each succeeding Shilluk king or
reth, the embodiment of the Shilluk polity. Likewise among the Anuak, tradition holds
that village headmen share a common agnatic affinity with a founding riverine spirit,
shared across generations by closely related patrilineal kin. For the Dinka, Nuer, and
Atuot, this notion takes on a slightly different permutation. Dinka assert that their
traditional religious and political leaders, beng bith or “masters of the fishing spear,” can
trace their origin and descent to an original master of the fishing spear called Aweil
Longar, a spirit in human form that emerged from a river to promote or extinguish life.
Atuot traditions closely parallel this notion in asserting that their own traditional healers
and political leaders are descended from an ancestor that emerged “from the river.”
Likewise, among the Nuer, traditional political/ spriritual leaders, known as “priests of
the leopard skin,” are said to have had a common origin with river spirits. These themes
are discussed in greater detail by Lienhardt (1975) and Burton (1980).
There exists a considerable literature on the oral traditions of Nilotic peoples of the
southern Sudan. In 1912, D.Westermark published a lengthy account titled The Shilluk
People: Their Language and Folklore and in 1931, the missionary R. Huffman completed
his Nuer Customs and Folklore. F.M.Deng published Dinka Folktales: African Stories
from Sudan in 1974 as well as The Dinka and their Songs (1973). T.Svoboda in 1985
wrote a small book titled Nuer Song. These works represent only a small fraction of work
in print on the general topic of Nilotic folklore; common themes in this literature address
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pan-human dilemmas: how parents treat their children, fears that children have of the
unknown, how life’s sorrows may be confronted, and why death haunts all human action.
For the Nilotic peoples of the Sudan, whose cultural traditions have been passed on by
word of mouth rather than by the written word, the interested reader will find a wealth of
material written by a number of generations of foreign authors. In this literature the
reader will find local answers to dilemmas all human beings face, with a focus on
kinship, the patrilineal family, spiritual agents, and cattle herding as a central economic
activity.
References
Burton, John W. 1980. The Wave is My Mother’s Husband: A Piscatorial Theme in Pastoral
Nilotic Ethnology. Cahiers d’Etudes Africaine 21:1–21.
Evans-Pritchard, E.E. 1956. Nuer Religion. Oxford: Claredon Press.
Lienhardt, R.G. 1975. Getting Your Own Back: Themes in Nilotic Myth. In Studies in Social
Anthropology, ed. J.H.M.Beattie and R.G.Lienhardt. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
JOHN W.BURTON
See also Hero; Myths; Northeastern African Folklore (The Horn): Overview
ORISHA
For the Yoruba of western Nigeria, orisha is a generic name used to refer to the
divinities. There are various accounts concerning the origin of the word orisha. One myth
asserts that it was first used in designating the archdivinity of Yorubaland. The
archdivinity and Orunmila, another orisha, descended into the world to accomplish the
divine tasks allotted them by Olodumare, the Supreme Being. The affairs of the world
were going on smoothly until the archdivinity decided that he needed a slave. He went to
the market, where he bought a slave named Atowoda (meaning “that which was created
by one’s hand”). Atowoda was submissive and hardworking, and he was well loved by
his master, the archdivinity.
Atowoda put a request before his master. Specifically, he asked for some land for
farming. The archdivinity readily gave Atowoda a portion of land on the hillside near his
home. However, all along, Atowoda had a sinister motive; he intended to kill his master.
The archdivinity regularly visited Atowoda on his farm. Atowoda hatched a plan of
loosening the soil under one of the embedded stones at the hilltop of his farm with a view
to rolling it downhill to crush his unwary master when he climbed the hill during one of
his visits. The plan was successful, and the archdivinity was crushed, his remains
scattering everywhere.
When the news reached Orunmila, he performed certain rituals, gathered together the
archdivinity’s remains, put them in a calabash, and took it to Iranje, the city of the
archdivinity. At Iranje, he deposited a portion of the body; he then distributed the rest all
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over the world, calling it, ohun ti a ri sa, (“what was found and gathered”). It is from
ohun ti a ri sa that the term orisha is derived.
There is another account, which traces orisha from the word Orí-sè, which literally
means “Head-Source.” The Yoruba use ori to refer symbolically to the spiritual being;
that is, the soul or individual ego. Thus, when the Yoruba says “Ori mi” (“my head”), he
is not referring to the physical head; he is referring to his soul. The word se means to
“originate,” “to begin,” or “to derive or spring from.” The word orise would therefore
mean “Ibi ti ori ti se,” (“the origin or source of ori”) This source is Olodumare himself,
the great ori from whom all ori originate.
In Yoruba, the name Orise (the original form) refers originally to Olodumare. In many
parts of Yorubaland, even though Olodumare is not part of the divinities, the name Orisha
is applied to Him. In the Owo district, Itsekiri and western Ijaw, the original form, Orise,
is Olodumare’s common name. The archdivinity, the Orisha-nla, and some of the
primordial divinities are referred to as the offspring of Olodumare, in the sense that they
are all entitled to the generic name of divinities. Therefore, the divinities would be the
small orise, taking their name from their origin from Orise Olodumare himself. Orisha,
therefore is a corruption of orise.
It is pertinent to distinguish orisha from imole. Imole is used to designate the spirits.
Imole are dreaded, while the orisha are hallowed and respected. Imole are appeased due
to fear of retribution, rather than worshipped in reverence. Orisha are localized and
familiar; they have their shrines inside the city. On the other hand, imole shrine are
restricted to the dark groves in the bush.
The orisha form the Yoruba pantheon, from which Olodumare is distinct, for he is a
higher being than they are. Sometimes, however, their fuctions overlap. For example,
Orisha-nla (Obatala) is in charge of creation (molding human beings); Ogun is the god of
iron responsible for war, hunting, and blacksmithery; Oshun is the goddess of the river,
responsible for fertility in women; and Yemoja is the goddess of deep sea. Jakuta and
Sango are the gods of thunder and lightning. Orisha-Oko is the god of fertility,
responsible for success in agriculture. Orunmila is the Yoruba god of wisdom.
In all, there are estimated to be four hundred orisha who form the Yoruba pantheon.
Of all these, only very few are worshipped throughout the entire Yoruba region. Most are
worshipped locally. Therefore, the orisha can be classified as either the greater orisha or
the lesser orisha. The greater orisha are those with principal functions; the lesser orisha
are those who are worshipped locally or might have overlapping functions. Orisha can
also be classified as primordial and nonprimordial. The primordial orisha are those that
Olodumare sent down from heaven, while the nonprimordial are those that were heroes or
heroines who were later deified.
The orisha can also be classified into “hard” and “soft” groups. For example, while
Ogun is regarded as a strong or “hard” orisha, Osun is regarded as a “soft” and gentle
orisha. All the orisha have favorite foods, which their adherents must offer as sacrifice to
them. One can incur the wrath of an orisha if the wrong food is offered as sacrifice. For
example, Esu does not like shea butter or the oil extracted from palm kernels. His favorite
is red palm oil (from the outer covering of palm nuts). People who use Esu for wicked
purposes offer shea butter to him in the name of the person they want Esu to attack. Each
orisha also has its own emblem and, at times, its own color and number.
KAYODE FANILOLA
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See also Diaspora: Cosmology; Religion: African Traditional Religion; Santeria
in Cuba; Vodou
ORPHAN MOTIF IN AFRICAN
FOLKLORE
The traditional reverence for family and community so prominent in cultures throughout
Africa gives the folk image of the solitary orphan a tragically symbolic significance. The
orphan appears in oral tradition’s across the continent as the hero of folktales and the
subject of proverbs and insults.
The orphan as featured in most West and Central African folktales generally displays
stock characteristics. The male or female orphan lives with an adoptive guardian (often
the biological mother’s co-wife). This guardian is cruel, depriving the orphan of food,
sending her on impossible, dangerous missions, or forcins her to undertake difficult or
demeaning work. Often the orphan embarks on a journey, usually to complete an
impossible task at the guardian’s bidding (e.g., fetching water from a dangerous well
inhabited by genies). On the way to accomplish the task, the orphan meets and accepts
challenges (e.g., rubbing the razor sharp back of a dead grandmother) without question,
reluctance, or complaint. A dead mother, father, or grandmother often shows the orphan
the key to the task. Because the orphan is obedient and modest, she successfully
completes the mission and gains riches and status.
In the northern East African cattle area (e.g., Somalia and Uganda), folktale types
involving orphans display common characteristics that depart from the West and Central
African pattern (Arewa 1980). The orphan is in the care of her father’s second wife. The
adoptive mother despises the orphan and tries to kill her by burying her alive while the
father is away. Either a halfsibling or the father hears the orphan singing from her trap
and rescues her. The father punishes the stepmother by killing her or driving her away.
Across the continent, the orphan prevails, but she is tragic, representing solitude in
cultures that place family and community in high esteem. Indeed, membership in a family
unit is absolutely essential for any individual’s proper growth and success in life.
Although it is limited to three southern Cameroonian ethnic groups, Charles Binam
Bikoi’s 1975 dissertation, “L’orphelin dans la litterature orale des Basaa, Beti et Bulu du
Cameroun,” is the most complete study of the orphan motif. Bikoi places the orphan tale
within the realm of serious tales, as opposed to light tales, which means that tales about
orphans carry a profound moral message about vital cultural knowledge (Bikoi 1975, 4).
For example, throughout traditional African cultures, parents and guardians teach
children to be obedient and to defer to age; these are highly valued childhood traits.
Because she succeeds by doing what she is told, the orphan is the ultimate model for
childhood obedience. On the other hand, the cruel stepmother serves as an example of
how not to treat another member of the human family since her cruelty toward the orphan
is rewarded with punishment at the end of the tale. The moral at the end of a Fon orphan
tale from West Africa reflects this lesson in communal responsibility: “And this is why
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one never mistreats orphans. For once you mistreat them, you die” (Herskovits 1958,
293).
Bikoi examines this compelling image of family in African cosmology and orphan
solitude as cosmic metaphor for all human tragedy:
A number of African people, indeed, consider that the universe has a
unique, supreme father, and that each group in nature constitutes a family,
with ancestors, parents, brothers…. Everything that involves one single
member of this family involves, beyond the specific group to which the
member belongs, the whole universe. Also, in the case of human beings,
the tragedy of orphans becomes a tragedy of life and their solitude, the
solitude of the society.
(1975, 121) (author’s translation)
Proverbs and insults from Basaa, Beti, and Bulu oral folklore reveal this universal regard
for community as it contrasts with the solitude, and ultimately the misery, that the orphan
represents. The Beti proverb, “Unfortunate orphan: never eats good food,” reflects the
literal and symbolic hunger that routinely befalls the orphan (Bikoi 1975, 110). And the
Basaa insult, “Mangy like an orphan,” vividly demonstrates the miserable condition
understood by the symbol of the orphan (Bikoi 1975, 104). The Guerze people of Guinea
refer to nice, durable shoes as “orphan’s shoes,” a metaphor that shows multifaceted
cultural understanding of the orphan motif; everyone knows that the orphan is too poor to
afford more than one pair of shoes and that she has to walk everywhere, so it is normal to
assume that an orphan would covet a single pair of shoes that would last a long time.
The orphan motif, with its themes of alienation, abuse, and journey, appears frequently
in postcolonial African literature. In her 1981 article “The Orphan in Cameroon Folklore
and Fiction,” Susan Domowitz looks at the theme of orphanhood in Mongo Beti’s Le
pauvre Christ de Bomba and Ferdinand Oyono’s Une yie de Boy. Both novels have
orphan protagonists who journey away from their traditional values and landscapes
toward a new world transformed by colonialism. However, unlike the orphan heroes of
oral tradition whose journeys have joyous endings, the fate of the literary orphans is not
so sanguine. Because they are “[b]ereft of the protection and familiar rules of traditional
society, the orphans of the novels stumble determinedly toward ruin” (Domowitz 1981,
355).
This variation of the traditional orphan motif echoes throughout Chinua Achebe’s No
Longer at Ease, in which the protagonist journeys away from his village (a kind of selfimposed orphanhood) and a multilayered set of traditional and colonial Christian values,
to make his way in the city under a new set of rules. This literary orphan journey also
ends in ruin rather than self-actualization. The urban landscape in postcolonial African
literature (e.g., Thomas Akare’s The Slums, Alex LaGuma’s A Walk in the Night, Mongo
Beti’s Remember Ruben, Buchi Emecheta’s The Joys of Motherhood) is often the setting
where tragic themes of orphanhood, that “vivid metaphor for colonialism” (Domowitz
1981, 355), are played out. Under traditional social systems, it is the orphan who
experiences hunger, solitude, alienation, and abuse. But for people living under colonial
and postcolonial systems, those challenges and abuses once reserved for orphans
permeate everyday existence.
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There are multifarious orphan themes throughout contemporary African cultures. The
image of orphanhood in oral tradi tion—folktale, proverb, and insult—reinforces
traditional values of family and community. As systems of education, technology, and
government work to transform traditional social structures, the orphan presents a
compelling topic for folklore scholarship in Africa.
References
Arewa, Erastus Ojo. 1980. A Classification of the Folktales of the Northern East African Cattle
Area by Types. New York: Arno Press.
Abrahams, Roger D., comp. 1983. The Orphan and the Cloak of Skin. In African Folktales:
Traditional Stories of the Black World. New York: Pantheon Books.
Babale, Chaibou, and Robert S. Glew, trans., eds. 1993. The Cruel Stepmother. In Hausa Folktales
from Niger. Athens, Ohio: Ohio University Center for International Studies, Monographs in
International Studies.
Beling-Nkoumba. 1985. Les Trois Orphelins. In Contes du Cameroun II. Yaounde: Editions CLE.
Berry, Jack, and Richard Spears, ed. 1991. The Orphan’s Revenge, and How the Crab Got His
Shell. In West African Folktales. Evanston, 111: Northwestern University Press.
Binam, Bikoi Charles. 1975. L’orphelin dans la litterature orale des Basaá, Betí et Búlu du
Cameroun. Memoire de Diplome d’Etudes Superieures, Université de Yaounde.
Domowitz, Susan. 1981. The Orphan in Cameroon Folklore and Fiction. Research in African
Literatures 12:350–8.
Ferry, M.P., trans. 1983. L’orpheline de mère. In Les dits de la nuit: Contes tenda (Senegal
Oriental). Paris: Karthala.
Herskovits, Melville J., and Frances Herskovits. 1958. Orphan Twins Visit Dead Mother: Market of
the Dead: Mistreatment Avenged, The Good Child and the Bad, and Orphan Outwits Trickster:
Why Orphans are Not Mistreated. In Dahomean Narrative: A Cross-Cultural Analysis.
Evanston, 111.: Northwestern University Press.
Magel, Emil A., trans. 1984. Kumba the Orphan Girl. In Folktales from the Gambia: Wolof
Fictional Narratives. Washington, D.C.: Three Continents Press.
Meyer, Gerard. 1988. L’Orpheline Devenue Reine, and L’Orpheline et le Grand Génie de la
Brousse. In Paroles du soir: Contes Toucouleurs. Senegal, Mauritanie, Mali, Guinée. Paris:
Editions L’Harmattan.
Storzer, Gerald H. 1977. Abstraction and Orphanhood in the Novels of Mongo Beti. Presence
Francophone 15:93–112.
KATHERINE ROBERTS
See also Folktales
THE OXFORD LIBRARY OF AFRICAN
LITERATURE
This substantial scholarly series was published between 1964 and 1979 by the Clarendon
Press (of Oxford University Press), with the following aims:
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The task of recording oral compositions before they are lost to memory,
and of providing a basis for future literary studies of Africa, is a specially
urgent one for scholars of the present generation, for African literature
which has appeared in print is only a tiny fragment of the whole. This
library offers a selection of African poetry and prose chosen irrespective
of time and place of composition. Each volume from a particular people
introduces the society in which the works have been created, and
describes their literary and linguistic characteristics. Annotated
translations, often with the complete text facing in the original language,
enable readers to compare varied expressions of African thought and
imagination.
Compositions in local languages will thus find their place in the
literary heritage of the whole continent, and the styles of African authors,
many of them unfamiliar, may make their impact on the world of
literature as those of India and China have done for many years.
(General editors’ statement in first volume)
The series’ initial impetus largely came from social anthropology. Of the three general
editors, two were at the Institute of Social Anthropology, University of Oxford (Professor
E.E.EvansPritchard, one of the preeminent anthropologists of his generation, and Godfrey
Lienhardt); Wilfred Whiteley, Professor of Bantu Languages at the University of London,
had a background in both anthropology and linguistics. All had carried out fieldwork in
Africa and also shared an interest in literature (Lienhardt’s original discipline) and in the
humane aspects of anthropology. However, the series was not wedded to any one
theoretical stance; authors came from multiple disciplines, backgrounds, nationalities,
and viewpoints, and several were native speakers.
The volumes typically consisted of translations, commentary, and original texts (in full
or selective). The series was innovative for its time, moving away from the narrow
functionalism and lack of interest in verbal art or individual creativity then dominant in
British anthropology, to celebrate and analyze African thought and imagination. It went
beyond the established philological tradition of presenting texts appropriate for linguists
by including substantial treatment of specific cultural settings and/ or of literary themes,
style, and performance. The preview emphasized “oral compositions,” but this was not
interpreted in a restrictive sense; some written texts and oral/written interactions and
overlaps were featured too. The series also carried some of the preconceptions of its time
and place. The series title echoed the then-standard model of literature as verbalized
products whose reality lay essentially in texts (though some volumes implicitly
challenged this and/or included striking accounts of performance or composition
processes). There was, initially, an understandable focus on dictated and/or transcribed
texts (nineteenth as well as twentieth century, occasionally earlier), and it was only
gradually—and selectively—that reliance on audio-recordings became established; nor
was there often much comment on collection or transcription issues. While the series was
ahead of its time in avoiding a fixation on the traditional, its laudable aim of documenting
older forms before they were lost undoubtedly affected the selection and treatment; there
was less coverage of contemporary forms, popular culture, or mixed media that might
nowadays seem an obvious goal. The series had some success in achieving its ambitious
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and imaginative aims. And if it did not wholly manage to gain for African literatures the
visibility of those of India or China, this was in the face of (still continuing) obstacles,
which, perhaps, no series could totally overcome. Comparable to the French Classiques
africains, the volumes remain an invaluable resource for scholars and admirers of African
literary arts.
As the list of volumes below indicates, the series covered a wide (if clearly not
comprehensive) geographical, historical, and generic range:
Whiteley, W.H., comp. 1964. A Selection of African Prose. Vol. 1 Traditional Oral
Texts. Vol. 2 Written Prose.
Andrzejewski, B.W. and Lewis, I.M. 1964. Somali Poetry. An Introduction.
Morris, H.F. 1964. The Heroic Recitations of the Bahima of Ankole.
Schapera, I. 1965. Praise Poems of Tswana Chiefs.
Huntingford, G.W. B. 1965. The Glorious Victories of ‘Amda Seyon, King of Ethiopia.
Mbiti, John S., ed., trans. 1966. Akamba Stories.
Johnston. H.A. S., comp., trans. 1966. A Selection of Hausa Stories.
Babalola, S.A. 1966. The Content and Form of Yoruba Ijala.
Finnegan, Ruth, ed., trans. 1967. Limba Stories and Story-Telling.
Evans-Pritchard, E.E., ed. 1967. The Zande Trickster.
Lienhardt, Peter, ed., trans. 1968 The Medicine Man. Swifa ya Nguvumali, by Hasani
Bin Ismail.
Cope, Trevor, ed. 1968. Izibongo. Zulu Praise Poems.
Norris, H.T. 1968. Shinqiti Folk Literature and Song.
Coupez, A., and Th. Kamanzi, 1970. Littérature de cour au Rwanda.
Finnegan, Ruth, 1970. Oral Literature in Africa.
Kunene, D.P. 1971. Heroic Poetry of the Basotho.
Goody, Jack. 1972. The Myth of the Bagre.
Norris, H.T. 1972. Saharan Myth and Saga.
Deng, Francis Mading. 1973. The Dinka and their Songs.
Damane, M., and Sanders, P.B., ed., trans. 1974. Lithoko. Sotho Praise Poems.
Shack, William A., and Habte-Mariam Marcos. 1974. Gods and Heroes. Oral
Traditions of the Gurage of Ethiopia.
Scheub, Harold. 1975. The Xhosa Ntsomi.
Willis, Roy, ed., trans. 1978. There was a Certain Man. Spoken Art of the Fipa.
Al-Shahi, Ahmed, and F.C. T. Moore, ed., trans.. 1978. Wisdom from the Nile. A
Collection of Folk-Stories from Northern and Central Sudan.
Hodza, A.C., comp., and G. Fortune, ed., trans. 1979. Shona Praise Poetry.
RUTH FINNEGAN
See also Classiques Africaines, Oral Literature: Issues of Definition and
Terminology
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OYO TUNJI: A YORUBA COMMUNITY
IN THE USA
Religious beliefs and ceremonies, visual culture, and social organization closely based on
traditional Yoruba prototypes from Nigeria and Benin Republic are embraced by African
American members of Oyo Tunji in Beaufort County, South Carolina, as viable
alternatives to mainstream American culture. Oyo Tunji (“Oyo Returns” or “Oyo Rises
Again”) is a metaphor for the reconstruction, in the United States, of the ancient kingdom
of old Oyo, which flourished in Nigeria (c.1600 to 1830 CE).
Oyo Tunji is popularly referred to as “the African village.” The current leader, known
as Oba (king) Efuntola Oseijeman Adefunmi I, along with a handful of priests and
priestesses, established Oyo Tunji in 1970, near the town of Sheldon, where routes 17
and 21 intersect.
Oyo Tunji encompasses ten square miles of semi-forest, agricultural land in a rural,
agricultural terrain. It follows a traditional town plan that can still be seen in the outlying
areas of small Yoruba villages in West Africa. Oyo Tunji’s land is partitioned into
precincts radiating from the central focus where the palace (called the Afin) is located.
Oba Adefunmi I apportions the land to male and female householders who pay annual
taxes to the Oba for this land. All the dwellings adhere to the traditional Yoruba
architectural plans, which consist of small, usually windowless, enclosed dwelling units
(used for storage and sleeping), built around large, open, square courtyards where most
daily tasks are performed (Ojo 1966). The size and elaboration of architecture signifies
status, ranging from the sprawling, immense palace through the middle-size homes of the
chiefs to the small houses of the general populace.
Oyo Tunji is, first and foremost, a religious community. The primary criterion of
membership is initiation into “Yoruba” religion, which, in fact, while foregrounded there,
accommodates an intertextual blend of borrowing from other African religions including
Fon, Asante, Edo (ancient Benin kingdom), and ancient Egyptian. The king’s name is an
excellent example of the .influence of multiple African elements: Efuntola signifies his
initiation into Yoruba religion as a priest of Obatala (in Nigeria, the Yoruba deity
credited with human creation through his modeling of human bodies from primordial
clay). Efun in Yoruba is white chalk and ola denotes abundance. Oseijeman (or “savior of
the people” in Akan) is a customary name for chiefs in Ghana. Adefunmi (“crown for
me”) builds upon the Yoruba traditional of designating all royal lineage families by
prefixing their names with ade (“crown”). Funmi is a conscious signifier of Oyo Tunji’s
king’s (formerly Walter Serge Roy King of Detroit, Michigan) proactive appropriation of
Yoruba royal names and a conceptual pun on his “slave” name. Adefunmi can thus be
seen as a “New World” oriki (Yoruba praise name) that puns on the fact that Walter
Serge Roy King originated the “kingdom” of Oyo Tunji and created a royal lineage for
himself and his family, with the right to rule and wear the crown (ade, the sign par
excellence of royalty among the Yoruba in West Africa).
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A very large number of African American men and women have been initiated in Oyo
Tunji by Kabiyesi (Yoruba, “royal highness”) Queen Iy Orite and others since 1970.
These priests and priestesses maintain close and continuous ties with the community,
although many have chosen not to remain permanently in Oyo Tunji. They have
dispersed throughout the United States to found small religious satellites of Oyo Tunji in
Chicago, Indiana, Wisconsin, New York, Virginia, Florida, and Los Angeles. The major
deities (orisha) are conceived as embodiments of organic, supernatural, and mortal power
that often calibrate with numerology and astrology. Thus, Orunmila (while equated with
the domain of Ifa divination among the Yoruba in Africa) is associated with the Sun.
Olokun (a deity associated with rulership and wealth in the ancient Nigerian Benin
kingdom) is identified with the planet Neptune and the sign Pisces. In Oyo Tunji, Olokun
is also conceptualized as the] deity representing the souls of all descendants of Africans
transferred from their homeland by ships sailing the Atlantic Ocean and, as such, serves
as the patron deity of all African Americans. Obatala (the creation deity who first molded
humans from earth) is the patron deity of Oyo Tunji and the one with the most initiates.
Obatala is linked with the planet Jupiter and the sign Sagittarius. Sango (whose domain is
thunder and who was a former king of old Oyo, an ancient Yoruba city) is governed by
Uranus and linked to Aquarius. Yemoj (the mother of deities not born by Nanan), seen in
Oyo Tunji as a powerful iyami (enchantress), governs the Gelede society organized by
men to honor elderly women of tremendous spiritual authority. As a moon goddess,
Yemoj is connected with the sign of Cancer and the numbers 4 and 7. Esu-Elegba, the
prankster, is seen as, simultaneously, the youngest and the oldest of all the deities. He is
linked to the planet Mercury, the signs Gemini and Virgo, and the numbers 1, 3, 11, and
21. His domains are the marketplace and the crossroads. He possesses the spiritual force
to open and close roads and place or remove obstacles, all metaphors for positive or
negative opportunities and success or failure.
In Oyo Tunji, a separate temple complex exists for each deity, which includes the
main shrine, a smaller shrine for the Esu-Elegba of the deity, and a building where
initiates are housed during their seclusion. Priests and priestesses function as diviners and
herbalists who provide guidance for the inhabitants of Oyo Tunji, as well as visitors or
local South Carolinians. They combine healing with herbs, fasting, divination, palmistry,
tarot cards, numerology, and astrology.
Known ancestors are honored by paintings, photos, and Egungun cloth ensembles, as
in Africa, while unknown ancestors are determined by roots-reading divinations and
honored by fresh water, flowers, candles, and prayers. An innovation introduced in Oyo
Tunji is the initiation of women into the Egungun society.
Finally, the visual culture of Oyo Tunji exemplifies a deliberate creative project that
departs from the mainstream, exhibition-directed arts created by many African American
artists, who position themselves within the American mainstream. In contrast, Oyo
Tunjians look toward conventional Yoruba art forms still commonplace in the African
homeland and available through African art books, journals, or early ethnographies.
In sum, Oyo Tunji occupies a unique place among African diaspora communities; it is
a uniquely intellectual entity, consciously created by African Americans as a counterpoint
to, and revitalization effort within, mainstream American society and culture. Rooted in
West African Yoruba religious, sociopolitical, and artistic epistemologies, Oyo Tunji
testifies to the agency and activity of African Americans in the diaspora.
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References
Gregory, Steven. 1999. Santeria in New York City: A Study in Cultural Resistance. New York:
Garland.
Murphy, Joseph M. 1988. Santeria: An African Religion in America. Boston: Beacon Press.
——. 1994. Working the Spirit: Ceremonies of the African Diaspora. Boston: Beacon Press.
Hunt, Carl. 1979. Oyo Tunji, Ph.D. dissertation, University of Virginia.
Ojo, G.J.A. 1966. Yoruba Culture: A Geographical Analysis. London: University of London Press.
Omari, Mikelle Smith. 1984. From the Inside to the Outside: The Art and Ritual of Bahian
Candomble. Monograph Series no. 24. Museum of Cultural History, University of California,
Los Angeles.
——. 1989. The Role of the Gods in Afro-Brazilian Ancestral Ritual: African Arts Journal XXIII,
no. 1.
——. 1990. Creativity in Adversity: Afro-Bahian Women, Power, and Art. The International
Review of African American Arts 9, no.1:35–41.
——. 1991. Completing the Circle: Notes on African Art, Society, and Religion in Oyo Tunji,
South Carolina. African Arts, July, 66–75, 96.
——. 1994. Aesthetics and Ritual of Candomble Ago. In African Religions: Experience and
Expression, ed., Thomas Blakely, pp. 135–9. London: James Curry; Portsmouth, N.H.:
Heineman.
——. 2002. Manipulating the Sacred: Yoruba Art, Ritual and Resistance in Brazil. Detroit: Wayne
State University Press.
Pinn, Anthony. 1998. Varieties of African American Religious Experience. Minneapolis: Fortress
Press.
MIKELLE SMITH OMARI-TUNKARA
See also Diaspora
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P
PALAVER (KINZONZI) IN KONGO
LIFE
Among the Kongo peoples of the Democratic Republic of Congo, life is in constant flux,
and palaver (kinzonzi)—the art of settling matters through talk—is an essential ingredient
in human affairs. Kinzonzi marks the moment when conflicts and social realities are
subjected to scrutiny. In the Kongo context, it suggests the power of the word. The term
derives from the verb zonza (to quarrel), but it also indicates a distinguished oratory and
dialogical expertise. The performer is described as nzonzi or zonzi, a judge, an orator, or a
defender (Laman, 1936 831). The quest for an orator is familiar, as the well-known
Kongo expression indicates: A mono nkondolo nkazi nani kumvovila (As I do not have an
uncle [or brother], who will speak for me?). The art of mastering words has very
functional demands. Although there are women with such skills, being a zonzi is first and
foremost a man’s profession.
The family home and the traditional community courts are the social arenas where
palavers take place. In the family context, there are two instances, or levels, of palavers:
the household and the extended family. They are the only means to address a conflict
(e.g., someone’s behavior or an illness) or to discuss a project (such as a wedding
proposal or taking a journey). The parents and the eldest son are the primary decision
makers in Kongo families, and the eldest son is responsible for decisions about issues
related to his parents’ behavior or health. Regarding siblings, parents and the eldest child
are cojudges.
Decisions drawn from palavers require the household’s unanimous consent. The
household is not made up of parents and children alone, but also includes nephews,
uncles, and other relatives of the extended family as well. This would explain the
impossibility of confidentiality. Relatives of the extended family would be aware of the
household issues before an extended familial court is convened. Whenever issues to be
dealt with are beyond the scope of the household, the extended family is approached. In
the case of a child’s wedding or sickness, the social and philosophical organization of
Kongo society obliges the father to consult first his own maternal and paternal family. An
appointed member of the father’s family is given the power to lead the palaver, and the
principal interlocutor is the eldest of the child’s maternal uncles. Friends, or anyone
concerned with the issue to be discussed, can attend this gathering. They are mbangi
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(witnesses) to the decision that is made, and they constitute the “therapy managing
group” that Janzen discusses (Janzen 1978, 4).
The traditional community judicial system deals with issues involving people without
familial bonds. In some circumstances such courts serve as the last recourse for the
familial judicial system. The issues most discussed by the community judicial system
involve land disputes, witchcraft accusations, interclan conflicts, robbery, and other
social conflicts.
A palaver can last from one day to many months, depending on the nature of the case
to be scrutinized. There are three primary aspects of every palaver. The first section is the
introduction, when participants are given an exhaustive account of the situation. In the
context of the community judicial courts, the event starts with a prelude by the judge and
his team, during which the reason for the gathering is explained. The representatives of
the people involved in the issue to be discussed are then given time to narrate their
versions in detail. The second section is the discursive period, which includes
interrogations and interventions of mbangi. Judges can ask people involved in the conflict
to consult with each other separately in order to resolve the issue. This is expressed in
words such as Luenda ku nima nzo or, loenda ku fongo (Go to the backyard). These
discussions are led by the wisest people of each group.
The third and the last component of a palaver is the deductive, or concluding, period.
This moment is enriched by what is known as Fongo dia zi nzonzi. These are the secret
consultations of judges, where, in the light of the evidence and their interrogations, they
find ways to address the conflict. When there is a disagreement among the judges, a
majority decides, or else the case is referred to other nzonzi. Such a referral also occurs
when the judges’ conclusions are disputed by those involved in the conflicts.
There is a similar structure of kinzonzi on issues of marriage in the familial context.
The difference lies in the fact that this is a happy event, which should mean less time and
fewer complications. Nevertheless, when some members of a family express
disagreement about a marriage a long process of negotiation is necessary.
Palavers require the relevant use of appropriate metaphors, parables, songs, and
legends. Such speech and verbal art forms are regarded as signs of knowledge and
wisdom. Yet, apart from their oratory performance, judges are to be impartial and
confidential. This is the basis of their authority.
Palavers have therapeutic, pedagogic, and ethical functions (Mampolo 1976, 70–4).
The therapeutic dimension of palavers is related to the fact that the Kongo have a social
concept of health and disease (i.e., physical sickness is caused by social disharmony)
(MacGaffey 1983, 148). Palavers lead to confession and repentance, which are essential
in the Kongo’s quest for health. In their pedagogic function, palavers provide an occasion
when legends, proverbs, questions about life, and the art of using words effectively are
learned through participant observation. Their ethical function is seen in the insistence to
seek what is socially and morally accepted.
In a country decimated by the consequences of three decades of a vicious political
system, it is more than an obligation to rejuvenate palavers and redeem them from the
inhumane politics to which they have been subjugated since 1965. This will return
kinzonzi to their central place in the judicial systems of the Kongo and other Congolese
peoples. For the Kongo, as for all Africans, parables are not only a means of
communication, but a medium through which vital forces are expressed.
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References
Laman, K.E. 1936. Dictionnaire Kikong-Français, avec une étude phonetique decrivant les
dialtectes les plus importants de la langue dite Kikongo. Brussels: Georges Van Campenhout.
MacGaffey, W. 1983. Modern Kongo Prophets: Religion in a Plural Society. Bloomington: Indiana
University Press.
Mampolo, M. 1976. La liberation des envoutes (traduit de l’anglais par Jean Geli). Yaoundé,
Camaroon: Editions Cle.
ADRIEN N. NGUDIANKAMA
See also Gossip and Rumor; Oral Traditions; Personal Narratives
PERFORMANCE IN AFRICA
Among the best known of the many performance genres in Africa are storytelling,
masquerades, and playwriting. For the most part, these are carried out by men, although
there are exceptions.
Masquerades present nonhuman beings in visible form. These beings may be deities,
spirits, or ancestors not normally visible to ordinary people. Most masquerades have
spiritual associations and are sacred. While much performance in Africa is designed to be
efficacious—that is, to have “power” and be able to affect humans, not simply to
entertain—certain masquerades are much more powerful or efficacious than others. It can
be said that there are “sacred” masks and “secular” or “entertainment” masks. Some
masks are held to be so powerful that those members of society considered to be more
vulnerable—usually women and children—cannot even see them in any but the most
circumscribed situations. The penalty for a woman who transgressed was often said to be
that she would not bear children or even, formerly, must suffer death. Masked figures
often have the right to chase women and children with whips or batons—reputedly to
keep them in order. Other, more lighthearted masks mock strangers, condemn
drunkenness, or exhort people to be socially responsible (and thus uphold the status quo).
The word mask is generally used to refer to the face and head covering, while
masquerade refers both to the individual masked figure and to the entire performance
event in which masked figures appear. Masks can be carved from wood or made from
cloth or raffia, and they are often regarded as being imbued with real power, even when
they are being worn or stored. Frequently their storage place is kept secret from everyone
but a few, and often women may not see the most sacred masks even when they are in
storage. When the mask is worn, the identity of the wearer is officially kept secret, and
the masked figure assumes a sacred status. This is because when a masked figure appears
in public it is no longer a human being disguised as a spirit, but has taken on the
attributes and power of what it represents, and thus it has become the spirit, deity, or
ancestor. This transition from human to something “other” is one reason that
masquerades are regarded with awe and respect and are often a central form of
articulation in systems of belief.
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Masquerade events are divided by gender. Although the characters represented by the
masks can be male or female, mask wearers are almost always male. An exception is the
Mende women of Sierra Leone, who have an elaborate masking practice as part of the
Sande society, an organization designed to inculcate appropriate social and sexual
behavior in women. Among the Sande masks is Sowei, the most powerful mask, which
epitomizes the ideal of beauty. Sowei has a comical mimic, Gonde, whose antics
highlight the elegance and beauty of Sowei. Although Sowei is powerful and can only be
worn by initiates of the Sande society, Gonde is not, and can be worn by noninitiates. The
masks of the female Sande Society are paralleled by those of the male Poro Society, a
powerful organization whose focus is on economic and political behavior.
Masquerade performances do not take place randomly, but are tied to specific events
such as the annual Egungun masquerade of the Yoruba of Nigeria. The Egungun spirits
are said to be the ancestors. The Dogon people of Mali have a variety of occasions for
masking, including the great Sigui, which only takes place every sixty years, and the
Dama, which takes place every two or three years and has also been adapted as a secular
entertainment. Among the Chewa of Zambia and Malawi, the masquerade figures appear
at collective funerary remembrance ceremonies honoring recently deceased persons. The
Chewa masquerades, part of the Nyau Society duties, include the Kasiyamaliro, which
covers the entire body of the wearer. Many masquerade performances are part of rites
that mark the transition of the newly dead to the world of the ancestors.
Storytelling also forms a part of the performance repertoire of most societies in Africa.
Storytelling usually takes place in the evenings, when the day’s work is complete and
people can relax together. If it is an occasion when more than just the children and close
family are present, then it is the men who tell stories and perhaps mimic the antics of the
characters. If it is mostly just children around, then women will often tell the stories.
Many tales are designed to educate younger members of society, and they often end with
a moral. Storytelling has a very earthy aspect to it, and many ribald tales of sexual
exploits are told—mostly about the animals of the forest or savannah, or else about
magical creatures who take semihuman forms and who can affect the lives of humans.
In most societies there is a set format for opening the story, which usually gives the
listeners a sense of venturing in search of a story until an appropriate one is found (one
that is interesting and likely to be well told). Among the Idoma people of Nigeria,
storytelling is called ocha. A storyteller opens with the phrase, Ocham ta kpa, kpa
kpa…(My ocha went out looking, looking, looking…), and then, having decided on a
story, he begins.
Among the Mende of Sierra Leone, storytelling is divided into historical narratives
called Ngawovei and fictional narratives called Domei. Adherence to historical fact is
sought in the Ngawovei and, therefore, they are recounted in a straightforward manner.
The Domei, however, rely on the style, skill, and imagination of the storyteller to capture
and hold the attention of the audience. Whereas participation is slight in the Ngawovei,
vociferous singing and clapping are an essential feature of the art of Domei.
Performance activities such as storytelling, singing, and dancing focus primarily on
presenting the self as skilled, whereas performing in masked events emphasizes the
presentation of the “other” and deliberately diminishes the degree to which the self is
present. In some cases this extends to total effacement, where the performer is not seen,
may not be seen, and is not officially acknowledged even to be present.
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Orally transmitted dramatic dialogue has long been a feature of African performance,
particularly at funerary ceremonies celebrating the lives of the newly dead and their
exemplary deeds. There are also dialogues within the performances of people in a trance,
such as the bori cults of northern Nigeria or the hauka (madness) practices in Niger,
where, in certain circumstances, the hauka pave the way for the public to encounter the
spirits. These dialogues are fleeting and take place with individuals in the crowd—often
placing unsuspecting spectators in an unwanted spotlight. In the early part of the
twentieth century, the beni dance forms, a mock-militaristic genre popular in East African
countries, also made use of dialogue to heighten the interaction between the performers.
Playwrights make use of several long-established forms of performing in dialogue
drama. The literary form gives playwrights the opportunity to address issues in a more
prolonged way. Early playwrights include the Nigerian James Ene Henshaw, a medical
doctor whose best-known play is the everpopular This is Our Chance (1956). By the late
1950s and early 1960s, literary giants from Nigeria had appeared on the world scene.
Wole Soyinka’s early works include The Lion and the Jewel (1963), in which a young
woman whose beauty is revealed through the visit of an urban photographer—and which
in turn brings her to the lascivious attention of the local chief—is a tale of the victory of
established practice over social change. This tension remains pervasive in Soyinka’s
work and is evident even in his later masterpieces, including The Road, Death and the
Kings Horsemen, and Madmen and Specialists. The plays of J.P. Clark (John
Bekederemo Clark) include Song of a Goat and The Raft (Three Plays, 1964) and the
recent All for Oil (2000). His greatest works lay in documenting a storytelling
performance of the Ijo of the Niger Delta (his own people), in which the deeds of the
legendary Ozidi are recounted and published as The Ozidi Saga (1977), and in his play
called simply Ozidi (1966), which is based on the story of Ozidi.
Other Nigerian playwrights include Femi Osofisan, whose works include Another Raft
(1988) and Morountundun (1984), and Bode Sowande, whose work includes Farewell to
Babylon, The Night Before, and Sanctus for Women (all published in 1979). Ghana has
provided the most prolific women playwrights of world standing, particularly Ama Ata
Aidoo, who wrote the play Anowa (1965) and Efua Sutherland, who wrote The Marriage
of Anansewa (1975), in which the relationship between storytelling and playwriting is
addressed in the form as well as the content.
Later, the Kenyan playwrights Ngugi wa Thiongo’o and Ngugi wa Mirii addressed the
same issue in the play I Will Marry When I Want (1982). This play famously arose from a
collaborative project with ordinary people in Kamiriithu, Kenya, starting in 1976. The
playwrights responded to the request of the local people to help them articulate their
concerns at the ways in which they were being unjustly exploited as laborers and
peasants. The resulting play was created orally by the people themselves and formed into
a written text using the skills of wa Mirii and wa Thiongo’o.
South Africa has a distinct history of playwriting, and the early play texts of
H.I.E.Dhlomo highlighted Zulu and Xhosa heroes and heroines. Credo V.Mutwa, Gibson
Kente, and, later, Zakes Mda also emerged as key dramatists. The South African actors
John Kani, Winston Ntshona, and Mbogeni Ngema are internationally famous.
Performances are determined by access to, and use of, such resources as materials,
performers, audience, and venue. The movement from orally transmitted work to literary
texts is just one part of an ongoing process of change that has always taken place in
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African societies. No performance is ever exactly the same as a previous one. Key
elements in performance are retained, but these may be embellished as individual
preferences alter and different opportunities occur. Key elements may be a text, a
storyline, or a sacred ritual. New features are incorporated to accommodate individual
talent, but, in the absence of someone capable of fulfilling a specific role, some features
may have to be dropped, perhaps temporarily, perhaps forever. Performance in Africa,
like performance anywhere, relies on the presence of skilled, knowledgeable, and willing
performers.
Long-established performance genres are now made use of in contemporary media,
especially in video, films, and television drama, which provide new and fertile fields of
expansion as performance moves between a position of efficacy and one of
entertainment. This does not, however, concomitantly reduce its efficacy in the original
setting. Similarly, the use of familiar forms of performance, including dialogue drama, in
contexts directly related to social mobility, environment, agriculture, health, and other
aspects of contemporary life is increasing. Known as community theatre or theater for
development, it is being widely used to challenge undesirable aspects of social change, as
well as to support those which are advantageous. People continue to use familiar forms—
sometimes in new contexts, sometimes in established contexts. Changing opportunities,
features, and meanings because African performance, like performance worldwide, is
creative in form and context.
References
Arnoldi, Mary Jo. 1995. Playing with Time: Art and Performance in Central Mali. Bloomington:
Indiana University Press.
Barber, Karin, J.Collins, and A.Ricard, eds. 1997. West African Popular Theatre. Bloomington:
Indiana University Press.
Drewal, Margaret Thompson. 1992. Yoruba Ritual. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Harding, Frances, ed. 2002. The Performance Arts of Africa. New York: Routledge.
Kerr, David. 1995. African Popular Theatre. London: James Currey.
Kruger, Loren. 1999. the drama of south africa. New York: Routledge.
Mda, Zakes. 1993. When People Play People. Development Communication Theatre.
Johannesburg, S. Africa: Witswatersrand University Press; London, ed.
Plastow, Jane. 1996. African Theatre and Politics: The Evolution of Theatre in Ethiopia, Tanzania,
and Zimbabwe: A Comparative Study. Amsterdam: Rodopi.
wa Thiong’o, Ngugi. 1981. Decolonizing the Mind. The Politics of Language in African Literature.
London: James Currey.
Spencer, Julius. 2002. Storytelling Theatre in Sierra Leone: The Example of Lele Ghomba. In
Harding, ed.
FRANCES HARDING
See also Dialogic Performances, Call-and-Response in African Narrating;
Drama; Masks and Masquerades; Puppetry; Theater
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PERFORMANCE STUDIES AND
AFRICAN FOLKLORE RESEARCH
The first folklorist to understand the inextricable link between performance and folklore
was the African-American folklorist and writer Zora Neale Hurston (1903–1960), who, in
the 1920s, claimed that, “every phase of Negro life is highly dramatized. No matter how
joyful or how sad the case there is sufficient poise for drama. Everything is acted out”
(1981, 49). She understood the deep connection between African diaspora mimicry and
parody and its manifestation in virtually all forms of folk expressions, and she concluded
that the best way to transmit these characteristics was on the stage, rather than in print
(Hill 1993, 295). She followed this idea through quite literally in her productions of
Color Struck (1925) and The First One (1927), as well as in musical revues and concerts
that, according to performance studies scholar Lynda Hill, “showcased the forms of folk
expression she sought to introduce to the larger white public” (1993, 298). Hurston’s
understanding of the “characteristics of negro expression” as constituting the drama of
everyday life directed her interests to performer and audience interactions, to the
audience’s assessment of the performance, and to her own role as a self-reflexive
participant-observer (Davis 1998, 14–15). According to performance studies scholar and
folklorist Mella Davis, Hurston used storytelling in such texts as Mules and Men to evoke
the temporality and contingencies of performance. It would be nearly five decades before
folklorists returned to performance as a critical concept applicable to folklore. Hurston’s
work, Davis has pointed out, anticipated contemporary ethnography (Davis 1998, 15–16).
As the application of embodied skill and knowledge, performance is behavior twice
behaved, repetition, or “restored behavior” (Schechner 1985), in which performers often,
but not always, have some responsibility either to an audience or to each other, as in
participatory performances such as public festivals and rituals. Since the mid-1940s,
scholars from a range of disciplines have theorized human action using dramaturgical
paradigms and metaphors. Some of the influential perspectives include: Kenneth Burke’s
rhetorical, performance-oriented theories that take stock of the effects of performance on
audi ences, which was influential in anthropology, sociology, and folklore from the 1950s
on, Victor Turner’s models of social drama and the ritual process, which employ his
notions of liminality and communitas, Gregory Bateson’s work on metacommunication
in performance and play, and Erving Goffman’s dramaturgical model of the presentation
of self in everyday life, as well as his frame analysis that seeks to explain how audiences
recognize that a performance is in progress (influenced by the work of Bateson and
Richard Schechner). Other significant work includes Milton Singer’s concept of “cultural
performance” as an encapsulation of a larger, unmanageable whole, and Clifford Geertz’s
concepts of thick description, deep play, and blurred genres. Turner, Goffman, and
Geertz, who were strongly influenced by Burke, never actually researched drama per se,
yet, ironically their perspectives have been instrumental in shaping research on
performance in Africa. In addition, English translations of Mikhail Bakhtin’s work have
begun to influence the study of performance, especially his treatment of the carnivalesque
and heteroglossia, that is, the layering of different languages and voices in speech and
writing. Late-twentieth-century works that engage some of these performance theorists
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include Abdullah Ali Ibrahim’s Assaulting with Words (1994) and Kwesi Yankah’s
Speaking for the Chief (1995).
As a result of these works, certain key concepts have become part of a standard
vocabulary in research on performance—in particular, Goffman’s analysis of
performance frames, cueing or keying, and frontstage/backstage; Turner’s concepts of
communitas, liminality, and social drama; and Bakhtin’s dialogics and multiple
voicedness.
In Power, Marginality and African Oral Literature (1995), Graham Furniss and Liz
Gunner observe that folklorists and others have been working with the concept of
performance and its implications for the field of folklore studies since the early 1970s.
They, and the advocates of performance-centered research to whom they refer, neglect
Hurston’s pioneering work. At the same time, Furniss and Gunner’s wording is
intriguing; for example, the phrase “the exploration of the term performance and the
broadening of its implications” (2) seems rather tentative and hints at an ongoing struggle
to understand performance’s relation to folklore, a struggle that Hurston appears never to
have experienced, probably because she grew up with the very people she went back to
study, and thus already had an embodied knowledge of their practices as performance—
indeed, she was herself a performer. The problem of applying performance to folklore
research is methodological, posing a challenge for the researcher to find a way to treat the
temporality and contingency of performance.
In the 1970s, folklorists such as Dan Ben-Amos, Americo Paredes, Richard Bauman,
and Kenneth S.Goldstein initiated the call for a performance-centered approach to verbal
art, and Roger Abrahams began to develop a theory of enactment. Like some of their
predecessors, these folklorists combined sociolinguistics and folklore, privileged
language over other forms of performance, and neglected history. At the same time,
however, they developed a more multidimensional analysis of the interrelationships of
form, function, and meaning for studying the discursive constitution of social life. This
strand of performance theory drew on the concerns of J.J.Gumperz, Dell Hymes, Richard
Bauman, and Joel Sherzer about formality, patterning, and communicative competence in
speech acts, and about treat-ments of performance in terms of an event or enactment. This
work has in turn been influential on those studying African oral performance, approached
variously as performative utterances, verbal art, oral literature and poetry, oral texts,
oratory, oral discourse, and orature (oral literature).
Folklore scholarship has had an uneasy relationship with what has been termed
performance, though Hurston fully embraced performance not only as expressive drama
in everyday life, but also as an essential mode of knowing the world and engaging the
communities she studied. For many post-Hurstonian folklorists, socially situated
performance meant nothing more than a normative, ahistorical description of “context.”
As Charles L. Briggs has pointed out, “most definitions of context are positivistic,
equating it with an ‘objective’ description of what exists in the situation of a
performance” (1988, 14). The question context raises, then, is: Where does text leave off
and context begin, and how does a researcher methodologically delimit “a context”?
Folklorists could not have established the boundaries between text and context without
genre theory, which serves to frame a text and block it off from everything outside it. The
text/context field establishes a perspectival view reflecting the objectivist gaze of the
folklorist. This perspectival view is akin to foreground and background in realist
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painting; it sets the text off as a singular object of study against a background necessarily
delimited by the folklorist. It ignores intertextual relations between performances,
between different social groups, between genres, and between the genre and what is
outside its frame. This approach highlights “product” in the same way the procedures of
earlier preservationist folklorists did, and it devalues the ongoing processes of
production, reproduction, and transmission. Equally significant is that the text/context
frame does not lend itself to the study of African folklore in diaspora, or of the broader
intertextual relations between folk performances of various African derivations
throughout the Americas and beyond. For example, in Yoruba divination practices, which
have found their way to Brazil, Cuba, and the United States, among other places, the
same basic material can be recast by performers in radically different genres and styles of
performance, from poetic chanting to melodious singing with musical accompaniment to
storytelling. The study of a particular genre of divination orature would miss the
multiplicity of purposes, uses, diverse media, and situations for which the same material
is often reconfigured.
Performance-centered approaches in folkore that, prior to 1986, strove to integrate
history, society, and culture in their particularistic studies of events remained, in the
words of I.E. Limon and M.I.Young, “still a promise to be fulfilled” (1986, 440). One of
the problems was that, as L.Honko has noted, performance folkloristics relied heavily on
observation rather than “face-to-face knowledge of the speaker or vivid perception of the
scene and participants of communication” (1985, 43). In response, Bauman and Briggs
advocated a move from “context” to “contextualization,” which “involves an active
process of negotiation in which participants reflexively examine the discourse as it is
emerging, embedding assessments of its structure and significance in the speech itself
(1990, 67–68). Understanding performance as discourse, however, demands approaches
that can accommodate more than speech acts, oral tradition, oratory, and conversation,
which tend to regard all other related action (facial expression, gesture) as secondary or
paralinguistic.
Hurston never struggled with the text/context dichotomy, since she narrated in a way
that conveyed the chains of communication in which she herself was fully present as a
participant, and in which one person’s rendition of a story could be understood to
precipitate or remind a participant of another. In this way, Hurston gives the reader a
sense of the temporal flow of exchanges and transactions, capturing a sense of a
multivocal community of divergent voices in tension around issues of racism, colorism,
gender, and other power relations.
Subsequent to Hurston’s groundbreaking work, folklorists continued to treat oral
performance in Africa as literature or literary text. As literature, oral performance in
Africa was transcribed and translated, frozen on the printed page, and treated as a fixed
text until 1980 (Seitel 1980). Turned into artifacts and objects for study, the verbal texts
were thus decontextualized, stripped from the performative situation in which they were
uttered, and rendered statically. The politics of this practice seems to have been an
attempt to put the verbal arts in Africa on equal footing with Western literature.
Represented by Judith Gleason, Veronika Gorog-Karady, John W.Johnson, Thomas
A.Hale, among others, this practice continues alongside situated studies of oral
performance (see Isidore Okpewho’s critique, “How Not to Treat African Folklore”).
African folklore
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Although useful, the transcription and translation of texts do not address performance per
se in any direct way.
Another problem in applying a performance paradigm in African folklore studies is
the legacy of disciplinary boundaries. This legacy has forced performance in the West,
and by extension folklore research in Africa, into arbitrary dissected and
compartmentalized categories of disparate media such as oral literature, theater, folk art,
dance, music, and so on. Such compartmentalization does not reflect African
performance practices. Media rarely exist in isolation in Africa, yet they are often treated
as if they do because scholars trained in Western disciplines are incapable of dealing with
more than one medium, whether it be oral literature, sculpture, music, dance, song, or
ritual symbols. As a reflection of this general state of affairs, Africanists and others
became interested in various ways different media function together both in performance
and in their interrelationships. The irony is that had the disciplinary tradition not
dissected performance into disparate media in the first place, there would be no need for
scholars to reintegrate them. On the other hand, studies concerned with how various
media function tend to stress their autonomy by drawing distinctions between them, thus
maintaining an illusion of exclusivity (see Bloch 1974). But a gesture or a look can alter
the intent and reading of an utterance, and vice versa. Indeed, either a gesture or a look
can comment on or contradict the other, creating ambiguity. Dancers and musicians, for
example, communicate with and comment on each other during performance.
Performance is in this way not only multivocal, but multifocal.
The overall effect of disciplinary boundaries is that scholars fail to comprehend
performance as a web of multiple and simultaneous discursive practices, and they reduce
performance to a unidimensional, normative sequence of events.
Performance studies as a formally institutionalized area of study in academia emerged
from two distinct historical contexts: (1) nineteenth-century elocutionism and (2) the
avant-garde and political protest movements of the 1960s (see Drewal 1991, 7–8). Until
the 1960s, the field of drama focused largely on written texts. Performance theorists such
as Richard Schechner thus turned to the social sciences, where scholars were engaged
with the study of human behavior. Schechner and Willa Appel’s volume By Means of
Performance: Intercultural Studies of Theatre and Ritual (1990) marks a collaboration
that began in the spring of 1977 and included conferences in 1981 and 1982. The
conferences and the volume that grew out of them brought together practitioners, theater
scholars, anthropologists, and others, including Heather and Anselmo Valencia, Monica
Bethe, Phillip Zarrilli, Herbert Blau, Du-Hyun Lee, Victor and Edie Turner, Colin
Turnbull, Barbara Myerhoff, Barbara Kirshenblatt-Gunblett, Yi-Fu Tuan, James Peacock,
and Ranjini Obeyesekere. From the conjunction of these interests in theater and
anthropology, the Graduate Drama Program at New York University changed its identity
in 1980, reconstituting itself as the Department of Performance Studies so that students
might rigorously pursue the interdisciplinary, intergeneric, and intercultural study of
performance (Zarrilli 1986a, 372; 1986b).
The institutionalization of performance studies as an academic discipline in its own
right is particularly significant because it opened up the definition of performance to
incorporate the practice of everyday life, defying disciplinary constraints and boundaries
in order to forge a more truly interdisciplinary research practice. Implied here is that
performers have been either formally or informally trained in body techniques in order to
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restore or revive a particular style or mode of performance. Meanwhile, from the 1970s
on, other institutions of higher learning became centers for performance-oriented
research, understood initially as the study of context in folklore. The most notable of
these were the folklore programs at the University of Texas at Austin, the University of
Wisconsin, Madison, and, especially, Indiana University (see Stone 1988). In this
approach, performance often involves what Bauman and Briggs call “the enactment of
the poetic function” (1990), as well as the authoritative display of communicative
competence—features of performance that have been of particular concern in
sociolinguistics and folklore. Paralleling the performance-centered approach in folklore
was a similar movement in African art studies to examine the contexts of the use of
objects, particularly evident in the journal African Arts from the late 1960s onward.
These studies likewise involved objective descriptions of performance as the context of
African art forms.
In Africa, performance is a primary arena for the production of knowledge. It is where
philosophy is enacted and where multiple and often simultaneous discourses are
employed (Drewal 1990). In addition, performance is a means by which people reflect on
their current condition, define or reinvent themselves and their social world, and either
re-enforce, resist, or subvert the prevailing social order. Indeed, both subversion and
legitimation can emerge in the same utterance or act.
Since performance is temporal and, in Africa, often improvisational, participatory, and
contingent, three simultaneous paradigmatic shifts are required for a performance-studies
approach to African folklore: (1) from structure to process (i.e., from an essentially
spatialized, distanced, objectivist view to a temporal, participatory, and interactive
research practice); (2) from the normative to the particular and historically situated (i.e.,
from the timeless to the time-centered); and (3) from the collective to the agency of
named individuals in the continuous flow of social interactions. Only through these shifts
can performance as practice be historicized and long-term transformations be revealed.
The reason such a shift has not occurred in African studies is twofold: (1) the tendency
in the social sciences (until fairly recently) to search for regularity, pattern, and
convention in societies, and (2) the inadequacy of researchers’ performance and other
skills, including the lack of fluency in African languages, which has precluded any
research method other than distanced observation. The problem is, as Karin Barber has
noted, “the kind of collaboration that social science, in its shift from positivistic
observation of social facts to participatory interpretation of human experience, now
enjoins, is usually easier to propose than to perform, not least because the researcher has
so little to offer her proposed partners, the subjects of her study” (Barber 1987, 65). This
would be true of highly formalized practices that require apprenticeships and years of
training to master, such as drumming, dancing, or woodcarving. Harold Scheub makes a
very similar argument with regard to the compartmentalization of oral tradition and the
written word, which he sees as grievous because it has “led to misconceptions about the
verbal arts” (1985, 45). He suggests more attention should be given to the relationship
between the oral and the written.
Given that performance in Africa is temporal, tactical, and improvisational, it demands
an approach that can accommodate human agents in the process of constructing ongoing
social realities. The embodied practices and actions of performers as human agents
situated in time and place in Africa—both constituting, and constituents of, ongoing
African folklore
674
social processes—remain largely unresearched. As long as researchers continue to
privilege one medium, genre, or context, that is, to view a performance as an isolated
event, rather than as part of an ongoing process in continual dialogue and flux, the
concept of performance will remain static and reductive. And it is in this area that a
performance paradigm as a research method can advance folklore research.
Performance challenges the notion of an objective social reality, as well as the notion
that society and human beings are products. Not only is performance production, but both
society and human beings are performative, always under construction. As restored
behavior, both performance and research entail repetition—not as reproduction, but as a
transformational process involving acts of re-presentation with critical differences. As
such, both performance and research necessarily involve relations between the past and
individual agents’ interpretations, inscriptions, and revisions of that past in present theory
and practice.
Instead, however—strongly reflecting a materialist-objectivist bias—most research in
Africa renders performance “thinglike”—by turning it into structures and sets of symbols,
in the case of ritual; graphic notation, in the case of music; and the printed word, in the
case of oral literature. Olabiyi Yai takes issue with folklorists who rely substantially on
transcriptions:
Thus, the “text” of an oral poem is fixed and mummified, paralinguistic
elements being the only elements of variation. This, in our view, imposes
drastic limitations on the generative latitude of the translator-performer,
thereby ignoring the essence of oral translation which is recreation. In our
model, improvisation is basic and the translator-performer may even add
“lines” of his/her own making to the “text” which is never closed, once
he/she is inspired by the mood or the muse of the genre. (1989, 68–69)
To involve oneself in the production of performance means learning techniques and
styles and, above all, learning to improvise. Yai’s model, in fact, would be a good model
for fieldwork on performance generally.
In focusing on transcriptions of texts, research reifies performance as a spatialized
representation for mental cognition alone, as if detached from the human bodies that
practice it. Ruth Finnegan has shown how this works in the study of music:
Musical art too tends to be equated with its written form, so that if
something is not written it is assessed as not “really” music, or at any rate
not worth serious scholarly study. In traditional western musicology
“music” is usually defined as the musical work, itself in turn defined as its
written formulation—the score—rather than, for instance, the process of
playing or singing or the act of performance. This emphasis on text is
reinforced by the western educational system…where formal music
training even in unassuming local schools as well as in conservatoire
settings is usually taken to consist in learning to read music: to cope with
notation, learn musical theory, and pass written (not just practical) music
examinations…. As with oral literature, this definition of music as text
leaves out essential elements of the art form as actually practiced by
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performing musicians and experienced by audiences. (Finnegan 1988,
125)
As music notation becomes the object studied, the graphic description becomes the
context. With few exceptions, most research renders performance static rather than
dynamic by adhering to normative structural models (perhaps from a desire for fixity) in
spite of occasional invocations of creativity, invention, and play. Performance process
and the embodied practices and actions of performers as human agents situated in time
and place remain largely unresearched.
Yai blames “the new concept of performance” for this problem:
The common flow of all theories of performance is that by portraying oral
poetry performance not as one moment in its mode of existence but as the
absolute event they unconsciously reify it and endow it with attributes of
finiteness typical of written literature. Oral poetry is thus equated with an
“oeuvre” and a monument, an attitude which blocks the way for
perceiving critical activities outside the “event.” The truth is that a literary
work in oral form is never “bounded” and that we can grasp oral criticism
of oral poetry before, during and after “performance.” To be able to
understand the oral poetics of oral poetry, we must dismiss any theory
which presents this poetry as a “product” or a “work” that has the features
of finitude and closure as implied by these concepts. Instead, we should
talk of uninterrupted “production.” (Yai 1989, 63)
Although Yai refers specificaly to oral performance, his observations could easily apply
to the study of all modes of performance in Africa. It was perhaps folklore’s methods of
studying performance as a fixed and bounded event, rather than as unin terrupted
processes, that drew Yai’s critique. And if Hurston’s folklore studies seemed
unconventional, it is because she brought a sense of this process into her writing,
conveying a sense of the temporal flow of storytelling and of her own role in that process.
A more participatory practice in folklore fieldwork means placing the emphasis on the
participant side of the participant observer paradigm; breaking down the boundaries
between self and other, subject and object, subjectivity and objectivity; and engaging in a
more truly dialogical relationship with the subjects of study so that both researcher and
researched are equal participants in performance discourse (Fabian 1983). This has been
accomplished most successfully in the past by ethnomusicologists who have mastered
African instruments and music styles, and who therefore can join in the music
production. Paul Berliner, John Chernoff, David Locke, and Michelle Kisliuk are only a
few exemplars of this.
Because most performance in Africa is participatory, there are many diverse kinds of
roles researchers can take. What performers understand cross-culturally is that
anthropologist Michael Jackson’s notion of “practical mimesis” is only an initial stage in
learning to perform. The more a performer performs, the more embodied the practice
becomes, so that at some point performing becomes second nature and performers can
begin to “play” with the practice—they can begin to improvise. This is analogous to
acquiring fluency in a foreign language.
African folklore
676
The paradigm shift advocated here means changing from the normative to the
particular by focusing on how performance practitioners and other participants operate,
observing what they actually do in specific performances, and then listening to what they
say about what they do (their intentionality). Since much performance in Africa is
participatory, the distinctions between performers and spectators are blurred. All
participants are in dialogue with each other, and they frequently shift their standpoints
within the performance. Very little research in Africa deals specifically with reception.
Part of the difficulty is that the idea of reception implies some sort of distanced
separation and a unidirectional relationship between performer and audience (see Nkanga
1995 for a corrective to this perception). Shifting to the particular also means
distinguishing particular performances situated in time and place from performances as
events encapsulating a culture or an ideology.
Adopting a temporal perspective means following repeated performances of the same
kind by the same people, but between different groups of people (different audiences). It
means focusing on individuals in specific performances as they use structure and process,
and then locating that performance within a larger body of performances and in history,
society, and politics. This is a fundamental reorientation in the study of performance. But
rather than losing sight of social structure, as skeptics might imagine, the performances
illuminate structuring properties all the more brilliantly, indicating at the same time how
performers handle them.
Studies of the particular should also include specific instances of the transmission of
modes, techniques, and styles for generating performance and constructing authority.
Given the contingent nature of unscripted performance, it is not sufficient to observe that
performance is emergent; rather, it is crucial to understand how particular performances
situated in time and place emerge through the discursive practices of agents (and through
the rhetoric of their actions). With these shifts to the particular and the individual, it is
possible to study performance as transformational process, in contrast to the more
standard approach to certain kinds of performance, such as ritual, as a process of
regularization in which the performance is viewed more or less as reproducing the past or
the cosmos in a stable fashion with relatively little, or only gradual, change. But in
shifting methodologically to the particular and the individual in the study of performance,
what becomes readily apparent is that there are no predictable or verifiable constants in
performances endlessly or mindlessly repeated by performers. This is precisely why
change is possible. Performance is a multilayered discourse employing multiple voices
and perspectives continuously under negotiation. It is crucial to understand
transformative practices and processes in order to understand change in the long term.
Folklore research in Africa can benefit from performance studies by understanding the
interactive, intertextual, intergeneric, and intercultural processes characteristic of African
and diaspora practices. Hurston acknowledged these practices and could be said to be the
unrecognized precursor of contemporary performance theory. Ahead of her time,
Hurston’s methodology reflected these suggested paradigm shifts—against the grain of
conventional Boasian anthropology. Her practices disoriented the academic and literary
community of the time, and to this day scholars still struggle to classify her work
generically (see, for example, Gates and Appiah 1993, Williams 1994, Domina 1997, and
Jacobs 1997). Hurston’s faithfulness to African-American culture indeed provoked some
bourgeois literati of the Harlem Renaissance, for she embraced her African legacy
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677
unconditionally (Williams 1994). Richard Wright accused her of “the minstrel technique
that makes ‘white folks’ laugh” (1993, 17). Hurston’s work appeared in the wake of the
popularity of Joel Chandler Harris’s Uncle Remus, and, misrecognizing her style, critics
drew an unfortunate connection between the two (see Moon 1993, 10, and Gannett 1993,
11).
However, the emerging field of performance studies is moving closer to Hurston’s
model of performance as both an interactive method for research and a subject of study.
Hurston’s interactive approach to folklore did not freeze tales on the printed page as
bounded objects of study. She understood the intersubjective, intertextual, and
intergeneric practices at the heart of African American mimicry and parody, and she also
used and played on these relations in her own theatrical and written work. She already
knew what Olabiyi Yai understood and advocated in 1989, that “from the point of view
of oral poetics, oral poetry strictly speaking should not even be described. We know it by
practicing it and by contributing to its making” (Yai 1989, 68). As a bearer of AfricanAmerican tradition herself, Hurston was true to the practice. She did not describe or
explicitly analyze so much as she practiced her embodied knowledge of oral poetics,
albeit in written form through her translations, but she also contributed to its making (in
Yai’s sense) by restaging it in both literary and theatrical forms for broader audiences.
Hurston’s participatory practice in the study of folklore, no doubt based on her first-hand
experience of it from childhood, gave her access to the processes of its production, which
enabled her to subvert the objectivist bias in folklore. As D.A. Boxwell put it.
According to [objectivist] standards, Mules and Men, with its highly
visible, intensely subjective, and active narrator and distinctly felt “author
image,” appears to be a willful violation of long-held and persistent
attitudes to socialscientific writing. Yet it is now possible, I think, to view
Hurston’s work as a striking prefiguration of theories articulated in
Clifford Geertz’s recent writings about the limitations of Boasian attitudes
toward ethnography. (1992, 607)
It is also this very unconventional practice, and the impact of the legacy of objectivism on
contemporary folklore, that all too easily allows Hurston to be consistently ignored as the
quintessential folklorist employing performance theory. For, while she set out to translate
storytelling into literature, her mode of presentation documented the ongoing processes of
communal interactions as performance.
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Nkanga, Dieudonné-Christophe Mbala. 1995. Multivocality and the Hidden Text in Central African
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Okpewho, Isidore. 1996. How Not to Treat African Folklore. Research in African Literatures 27,
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——. 1985. Between Theatre and Anthropology. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press.
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MARGARET THOMPSON DREWAL
See also Drama; Festivals; Gesture in African Oral Narrative; Oral Performance
Dynamics; Oral Traditions; Performance At Theater
PERFORMING ARTS OF SÃO TOMÉ
AND PRÍNCIPE
São Tomé and Príncipe, located in the Gulf of Guinea, is a twin-island republic with a
total area of 372 square miles, making it the second smallest independent state in Africa.
The islands have a total population of 170,000 (2002), of which about 5,000 live on the
smaller island of Príncipe. Portuguese navigators discovered the two uninhabited islands
around 1471. In the late fifteenth century, Portuguese settlers and convicts, deported Jewish children, and African slaves from the mainland settled the islands. The Portuguese
introduced sugar cane, making the islands the first plantation economy in the tropics.
Since the late nineteenth century, cocoa has dominated the local plantation economy. The
African slaves were taken to the islands as individuals and not as social groups so they
did not retain their various cultures and languages intact.
The Culture and Language
The five-hundred-year-long blending of elements of the dominant Catholic Portuguese
culture and the African cultures resulted in the development of a distinctive Creole
society with its own culture and languages. The majority of Creoles are descendants of
the early settlers and slaves and are called Forros, a term derived from the Portuguese
word for “letter of manumission.” In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, runaway
slaves formed a small maroon community in the south of São Tomé, and their
descendants are known as Angolares. They are now primarily fishermen. Both Forros and
Angolares have always refused to do manual field labor on the Portuguese roças
(plantations), as they historically considered it demeaning and beneath their status as free
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blacks. Because their number was insufficient to supply the necessary labor, between
1875 and the 1950s the Portuguese recruited thousands of contract workers from Angola,
Mozambique, and Cape Verde. These indentured laborers, called serviçais, constituted a
new sociocultural category on the islands and outnumbered the native Forros up until the
1940s. The contract workers were considered second-class citizens under colonial law,
which discriminated between natives (indigenous) and citizens until it was abolished in
1961. Their descendents born on the archipelago, known as Tongas, still live
predominantly on the plantations, whereas the Forros live in the capital and in the few
small towns and dispersed communities, locally called lucháns. Since the country’s
independence in 1975, the Tongas have been assimilated by the Forro community
through migration, acculturation, and marriage, and the sociocultural differences between
the groups have been blurred. Consequently, some realignments have occurred among the
sociocultural categories entailing the development of new cultural forms and changing
modes of participation in social life.
Besides the official language of Portuguese, three distinct Afro-Portuguese Creole
languages are spoken: Ling’lé on Príncipe, Lunga Santomé, or Forro, on São Tomé, and
the Lunga Ngola of the Angolares. The first two are mutually intelligible; however, due
to the isolation of the former maroons, Lunga Ngola is unintelligible for Ling’lé and
Forro speakers, although the three languages are closely related in terms of phonology,
lexicon, and syntax. The local creole languages have no generally accepted and written
orthographies, and instead rely on oral literature. During the colonial period, the
Portuguese considered the local Creoles as inferior and primitive. After independence,
however, the government promoted the Lunga Santomé to língua national (national
language). In daily life at home the Creole is used and spoken by the majority of the
people. Only the upper class speak Portuguese in their private lives. Portuguese remains
the official language, however, as well as the language of education. Except for a few
lyrics, literature on the islands is in Portuguese. Due to its physical, historic, economic,
and sociocultural characteristics, São Tomé and Príncipe is more akin to the Afro-Creole
societies in the Caribbean than to the nearby African societies.
Oral Literature
There are four distinct forms of local oral literature in the archipelago. A riddle (aguede
in creole), such as “I have gone and come, but have not left the place” (door) or “House
without door or window” (egg) often serves for entertainment at night. A vessu is a
proverb or proverbial saying derived from historic or fabulous facts, traditional stories,
and theater plays. These are used in conversation and songs. A contagi (tale that is well
known) is a sad or happy narrative and can be told on any occasion. Such popular
folktales feature figures familiar from both African and European folktales, such as
royalty, giants, and witches, and frequently deal with encounters of men and animals. The
turtle often plays a prominent role as a sympathetic, intelligent, and bright animal,
comparable to the fox in European stories. The tales reflect important aspects of social
life in the archipelago, such as the natural environment, the plantation, hunting,
traditional medicine, and beliefs. Soia are fictional stories exclusively narrated by
storytellers at night during the Nozado, the memorial ceremony for the dead. According
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to local belief, angry spirits are likely to cause the death of a family member if a soia is
told outside the Nozado.
Theater
The best-known manifestations of local folklore are popular theater performances that
include colorful costumes and anachronistic properties. Forros on the island of São Tomé
perform the most famous play: The Tragic Story of the Marquis of Mântua and Emperor
Charlemagne, locally known as tchiloli and based on text written around 1540 by
Baltasar Dias of Madeira, a blind playwright. He based his drama on six Castilian novels,
which were in turn derived from the eleventh-century Charlemagne cycle. Most probably,
the Dias drama was introduced from Portugal and first performed in the mid-nineteenth
century. Around that time such texts reappeared and circulated in Portugal as literatura
de cordel, a form of cheap literary production. It has also been suggested that the play
was introduced by sugar planters from Madeira as early as in the sixteenth century;
however, its existence on São Tomé is not mentioned in the literature prior to the
twentieth century. The drama has also been taken to the Sertão, Brazil’s northeast
interior. The medieval play tells the story of Dom Carloto, the son and heir of
Charlemagne, who kills his best friend Valdevinos, the Marquis’ nephew, during a
hunting party because he has fallen in love with Valdevinos’s wife, Sibila. The two
families and their representatives debate questions of law, justice, and good government.
The key subjects are treason and equality before the law. The emperor is confronted with
the classical dilemma to choose between the raison d’état (reason of state) and his
paternal love. Finally, his son Dom Carloto is sentenced to death and executed in the
imperial fortress.
Anto de Floripes theater (the troops of
the Moors), Santo António, Príncipe.
Photo © Lourenço Silva.
Presently there are more than ten tchiloli groups, known as tragédias, with about thirty
amateur actors, each coming from a particular Forro locality. Within certain dramaturgic
limits, each troupe performs its particular version of the play. According to the medieval
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tradition, men exclusively play and dance both male and female roles. The same actor
always performs the same parts. The roles, costumes, and texts are passed down within
families. It is not uncommon for actors to be addressed by their tchiloli names in daily
life. Usually the performances last about six hours and take place in the open air during
the dry season, called gravana, predominantly on the occasion of religious feast days and
other festivals. The African influence, in terms of the notion of time, has extended the
few pages of the original to what is often a very long performance. However, during
official inaugurations, expositions, or guest performances abroad, the drama can be
condensed to a few scenes (about ninety minutes). The open stage, some 15 to 20 yards
long and 5 to 10 yards wide, can be watched from all sides. The spectators participate
actively in the performance by making comments during the various scenes of the play,
which many islanders know well. On one side of the open space rises the corte alta (high
court) on wooden stakes and roofed with palm-tree branches, representing the imperial
palace. On the opposite side is a cabin on the ground made of green branches
representing the corte baixa (low court) of the mourning Mântua family. During the
entire play a small coffin placed on a stool in the midst of the stage symbolizes the dead
Valdevinos.
Most of Dias’s sixteenth-century seven-syllable verses are used in their original
version, but additional modern Portuguese prose texts have been integrated into the
performance. The latter dominate the parts concerning the criminal investigation and the
legal procedures. Contrary to the original text, these modern additions are constantly
adapted and extemporized by the actors. Three drummers, three bamboo flute players,
and four men shaking sucalos (wicker-rattles filled with seeds) provide the music that
accompanies the actors when they dance across the stage. The music is rather
monotonous, for the same melody is repeated constantly. The dance, dumb-show, and
music dominate the performance, rather than the verse and prose texts. Charlemagne’s
family members are dressed up in splendid, colorfully decorated costumes, and his
ministers are in Napoleonstyle hats and uniforms. The Mântua family members wear
black mourning dresses, while the two lawyers, Anderson and Bertrand, appear in threepiece suits and carry briefcases. The actors use wire-screen masks until after sunset. The
masks, commonly painted in a white-face style, can be understood as manifestations of
the spiritual world, for in Africa white is the color of the dead. Certain characters wear
long colorful ribbons, a symbol of wealth. Particularly during the 1950s, additional
figures, such as the two lawyers, derived from the twentieth-century colonial
administration, have been integrated alongside the medieval royal personages. In
addition, some actors wear sunglasses and fashionable rucksacks, and the imperial court
is equipped with a telephone and a typewriter.
The tchiloli is an exciting example of cultural creolization and syncretic theatre. It
comprises elements stemming from different cultures and times that seem to be
incompatible at first sight. The play has always given the local people the opportunity to
have debates on justice, the confrontation between the strong and the weak, a fair trial,
and the stamina of those who are right and finally win. As this popular play developed in
a plantation colony marked by slavery and forced labor, the search for justice and truth
has been an important aspect of its production. It has even been argued that the tchiloli
originally represented a form of political resistance against colonial oppression, serving
both playful and therapeutic functions.
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The Auto da Floripes
Another medieval drama, the Auto da Floripes, is played every year on August 10, the
feast day of Saint Lawrence on Príncipe. The play probably stems from the sixteenth or
seventeenth century, and its author is unknown. As this play has been performed annually
for five centuries on August 5 in the village of Neves in the Portuguese Minho province,
it is not unlikely that an emigrant from that region took it to Príncipe. Against the
background of the battle between Christians and Muslim Turks, or Moors, the play tells
the story of the revolt of a daughter against her father. Princess Floripes, the daughter of
the Moor commander admiral Balão, has fallen in love with the Christian knight Gui de
Borgonha. The action takes place in the small town of Santo António, and the thirty
actors wear colorful, decorated costumes, with many wearing artificial moustaches and
beards. The Christians are dressed in white and blue, and the Moors in red. A wooden
platform in front of the parish church represents the castle of Charlemagne. On the
opposite side of the street rises the castle of the Moor admiral Balão. The performance
Danço Congo masquerade, Sáo Tomé.
Photo © Lourenço Silva.
lasts a whole day, and the dramatic climax is a two-and-a-half-hour fight between the
Christian nobleman Oliveiros and the Turk Ferrabrás, Floripes’s brother and the son of
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admiral Balão. During a hand-to-hand duel with swords, both men try to convert each
other to his own beliefs. Finally, Ferrabrás surrenders, becomes converted to Christianity,
and joins the army of Charlemagne. In one of the many battles, Balão himself succeeds in
capturing Gui de Borgonha and detains him in his castle. Floripes is torn between her
love for Gui and her father. She asks her father to convert to Christianity like her brother,
but Balão rejects her proposal. After the Christians defeat Balão in a final battle, a large
pageant, accompanied by singing people, drums, horns, and hooters, moves through the
streets of Santo António. The part of Floripes has to be played every year by a different
girl, whereas the other roles are articulated by the same male actors and passed down
from year to year. Formerly, the girl had to be a virgin, but this rule has become difficult
to maintain. As there is no fixed version of the text, the actors extemporize and
continuously develop new themes, motives, intrigues, and fragments. Music, dance,
pantomime, and properties play important roles in the performance of the Auto de
Floripes.
The Danço Congo
Other distinct cultural societies on São Tomé, comprising twenty to thirty members each,
perform the Danço Congo, acted out in a dumb show with dances, acrobatics, whistles,
and drumming. Typically, the characters are the Capitão (captain) of Congo and his
soldiers playing Canzás (bamboo bows), the Logoso (plantation guard), the Anso Molê
(the dying angel), two Anso Cantá (singing angels), two Pés-De-Pau (men walking on
stilts and wearing red trousers), four Bobos (buffoons), the Feiticeiro (sorcerer), the
Zugozugo (assistant of the sorcerer), and the D’jabo (devil). The sorcerer, his assistant,
and the devil are dressed in red, while the other actors wear colorful costumes, dominated
by green. The costumes stem directly from African styles with high, large circular
headdresses made of iron wire and decorated with colored paper strips.
The Danço Congo remind one of performances dedicated to the king of Congo in
Brazil, Columbia, and Panama. Such performances, called congos or congadas, constitute
an integral part of the festivals of religious brotherhoods in Brazil. Blacks performed a
Congo festival in Lisbon as early as the sixteenth century. The theme probably stems
from the coronation of the Mani-Congo in Angola. The dance may have come to São
Tomé directly from Africa or indirectly from Bahia, where the local Creole clergy was
educated from 1677–1845, when São Tomé belonged to the archdiocese of Bahia.
The Danço Congo is enacted in the open air by permanent associations domiciled both
within Forro and Angolar communities. It symbolizes the story of four incompetent sons
(the Bobos), who have to give the roça they inherited from their father to the captain of
Congo. During a festivity on the plantation both the Bobos and the Captain invite the
Sorcerer and his assistant, who then are captured and compelled to participate in the
dance. The Captain, however, constantly fears that the two might kill the Anso Molê.
Finally, the Sorcerer and his assistant succeed in escaping. In the meantime the Pés-dePau begin to dance, surrounded by all the characters. Thereupon, the Devil starts jumping
and moving convulsively. The Sorcerer reappears and succeeds in killing the Anso Molê.
The Captain is shocked and asks the Logoso why he allowed the flight of the sorcerer and
the Devil. Meanwhile, the Bobos and the others, unmoved by the murder of the angel,
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continue to dance, for they see no reason to interrupt the party. The Danço Congo can last
about six hours, and it is perhaps the most lively, colorful, and noisy manifestation of
local folklore. Like other theater and dance, it is performed on religious feast days and
official festivals.
Other Dances
While many of the older dance forms of the Forros have definitively disappeared, the
ússua and the sócópé are still performed by community-based cultural groups. Their
members pay fees, and the groups also function as associations of mutual assistance in
the case of funerals, illness, and other misfortunes. The steps and the music of the ússua
are similar to a slow waltz or a minuet. The musical instruments accompanying the dance
are one accordion, two canzás, two caixas (drums), and a bombo (large drum). The
mestre-sala (dancing master) conducts the dancers with his horn. The women dancers
wear colorful robes, long skirts with laces, albs (full-length linen vestments), laced
clerical collars, long and wide sleeves, and headscarves. The men are dressed in black
trousers, black shoes, white blazers, a tie, and straw hats.
The sócópé, literally meaning “only with the foot,” developed from the ússua and first
appeared on the island of São Tomé around 1900. Within the sócopé, dance troupes of
both men and women have a complex hierarchy consisting of numerous functions
ranging from president to singers. The groups carry their own standard and the country’s
national flag during the performance. The men are dressed in showy uniforms with
stripes and badges, or else in black trousers and white shirts; while the women wear
uniform colorful skirts, white blouses, and scarves. The instruments are three caixas,
canzás, one pito (bamboo flute), and two bombos. Currently the sócopé is still performed
by only a few groups.
The puíta (or semba) is a dance introduced by Angolan contract workers. It was once
performed all night long by the African contract workers and the Tongas on the
plantations during a party in honor of a deceased person. The guests eat and drink the
deceased’s health before they dance to the sound of the percussion music. Puíta is also
the name of the large drum used for the dance. The other instruments used are two small
drums, one micoló (can beaten with wooden sticks), three sucalos, an iron rod, and an ox
horn. The songs are both in local Creole and African languages. Since independence,
many plantation workers have migrated to the capital, and the puíta can now be found in
the neighborhoods of São Tomé city. The bulauê, which developed after independence
among Tongas living in urban neighborhoods, has been adopted by the larger Forro
community and can now be found in all corners of the island. However, the bulauê is
more popular among low-status Forros, while the elite often disdain this dance. Its songs
are in the Forro creole. Unlike the older Forro dance societies, the bulauê society does
not offer mutual assistance to its members.
References
Ambrósio, António. 1985. Para a história do folclore São-Tomense. História. 81:60–88.
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Espirito Santo, Carlos. 1988. A Coroa do Mar. Lisbon: Editorial Caminho.
Fablier de São Tomé. 1984. Collection Fleuve et Flamme. Paris: edicef.
Perkins, Juliet. 1990. A Contribuição Portuguesa ao tchiloli de São Tomé. Revista do património
histórico e artístico national, Especial Issue. 131–141.
Reis, Fernando. 1965. Soia, literatura oral de São Tomé. Braga: Editora Pax.
——. 1969. Povô flogá, o povo brinca: folclore de São Tomé e Príncipe. São Tomé: Camara
Municipal de São Tomé.
Rosa, Luciano Catano da Rosa. 1994. Die Lusographe literatur der inseln São Tomé und Príncipe:
Versuch einer literaturgeschichtlichen darstellung. Frankfurt am Main: Verlag Teo Ferrer de
Mesquita/ Domus Editoria Europaea.
Shaw, Caroline. 1996. Oral Literature and Popular Culture in Cape Verde and in São Tomé and
Príncipe. In The Postcolonial Literature of Lusophone Africa. Ed. Patrick Chabal. Evanston,
111.: Northwestern University Press.
Seibert, Gerhard. 1991. O Tchiloli de São Tomé. História 142, 66–73.
Tchiloli de São-Tomé et Príncipe. 1990. Internationale de l’Imaginaire. 14 (special edition).
Valverde, Paulo. 2000. Mascara, mato e morte em São Tomé. Oeiras, Portugal: Celta Editora.
Pereira, Paulo Alves. 2002. Das Tchiloli von São Tomé. Die Wege des karolinischen Universums.
Frankfurt: IKO.
GERHARD SEIBERT
See also Performance in Africa; Theater
PERFORMING ARTS OF THE TIV
The Tiv people live in Benue State in the area known as the Middle Belt, situated
between the north and southeastern parts of Nigeria. In spite of the fact that they also
occupy substantial parts of other states and that other peoples, particularly the Idoma,
occupy a large part of it, they are largely synonymous with Benue State. The Tiv
population, regardless of state boundaries, is variously said to be between 3 and 4
million, making them the largest settled minority population after the “big three” (Igbo,
Yoruba, Hausa) in Nigeria. This has made the Tiv important in the political stakes of
Nigeria, and their power is never ignored.
The Tiv people are renowned as farmers. Yam is the main crop and Tiv cuisine
depends largely on well-prepared pounded yam served with meat in a variety of sauces.
Tiv men and women both engage in farming and take great pride in their farms. Almost
all Tiv people have a farm, and even those living far away in one of the towns do their
best to maintain one in their home village through joint ownership.
Dance, song, storytelling, riddles and proverbs, and puppet and masquerade theater are
among the many forms of creative performance in Tiv society. All these forms have some
aspect which is available for men and women to perform, though not necessarily at the
same time. Neither gender has full access to the range of possibilities. Within dance
(amar or ishol) and song (acam or imo), women are expected to display grace and
elegance (legh, or lugh). These and other Tiv words emphasize the desirability of smooth
movement in women’s dancing and singing. For men, strength and energy are the most
desirable attributes.
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As well as being gender-specific, some dances are also particular to specific
occasions, such as the ibiamegh ceremony (the most prestigious of all ceremonies), or the
girnya, a dance performed at the death of significant leaders and said formerly to require
the taking of heads as part of the ceremonial preparations.
Not all dances are equally popular throughout Tivland. Some, like the ivom, which is a
competitive display of status and wealth staged by young men, are preferred in certain,
but not all, parts of Tivland. The girnya is not widely performed, although most people
know of it. Ingough is a dance which parodies the movements of people distressed by
disease, their limbs dangling helplessly, their stomachs distended, until at a musical
signal they return to normal. It is more widely performed as a means of deflecting a sense
of hopelessness during illness. The agatu graphically displays the putative movements of
witches as they avoid touching each other, which would bring about their death. This
illustrates an important point about all Tiv performance arts: they are not uniform
throughout the area, nor across time. The shamanja (sergeant major) and dasenda dances,
for example, reflect more recent military influences. Tiv people relish, encourage, and
reward innovation in the arts.
Instrumental music is also a significant part of Tiv expression in the arts, and can
accompany dance, song, or the puppet and masquerade theater, known as kwagh-hir.
Kwagh-hir is based partly for its content and its competitive organizational form on a
long-established storytelling practice, also called kwagh-hir, or sometimes kwagh-alom.
Kwagh-hir means “something wonderful” or a “fabulous thing.” It refers both to
storytelling and to the content of the story. Kwagh-alom means “thing” of the “hare.”
Alom is the trickster character in Tiv storytelling who always survives even the direst
fate, prompting the saying “Alue kwagh alom une wua yo, myanga une horn ga” (A story
where Alom is killed is not humorous).
As with all Tiv performances, new dances, saying, styles of music, masquerade and
puppet characters, and stories are continuously being created. The performer is a
prestigious figure in Tiv society, so that when a singer, dancer, or puppeteer introduces a
new creation, it may be immediately imitated, and perhaps elaborated on, to often
become popular beyond the performer’s own immediate area and may retain the name of
the artist who created it no matter how often it is repeated and interpreted. While the
masked performers and the puppeteers in the kwaghhir are men, women are essential to
the performance as accompanying singers, and they can also be the shuwa (narrator),
whose task is to call out to the audience a synopsis of the ensuing masked or puppet item.
References
Bohannan, Laura & Paul. 1953. The Tiv of Central Nigeria. London: International African Institute.
Hagher, Iyorwuese, Harry . 199 0. The Tiv Kwagh- Hir. L Nigeria: The Centre for Black Arts and
Civilisation.
Harding, Frances. 1978. To Present the Self in a Special Way: Disguise and Display in Tiv KwaghHir Performances in African Arts. Vol. XXXI, no 1, University of California, Los Angeles.
Keil, Charles. 1979. Tiv Song: The Sociology of Art in a Classless Society. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press.
FRANCES HARDING
See also Dance; Performance in Africa; Puppetry
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PERFORMING ARTS OF UGANDA
Introduction
Uganda is a landlocked republic of East Africa bordered on the east by Kenya, on the
west by the Democratic Republic of Congo, on the north by Sudan, on the south by
Tanzania and on the southwest by Rwanda. Located along the northern shores of Lake
Victoria, Uganda straddles the equator atop the plateau created by the two arms of the
Great Rift Valley. The climate is mainly tropical, with the exception of the arid northeast.
Rainy and dry seasons are each experienced twice a year. Precolonial social organization
was remarkably diverse, including centralized kingdoms (such as Buganda in the south
and Ankole in the west), confederates of chiefdom states (such as Acholi in the north)
and noncentralized, segmentary societies (such as Kigezi in the southwest and Karamoja
in the northeast). Economic pursuits were primarily agricultural, with the exception of
populations in the western and northeastern regions, who raised cattle; a small number of
gathering communities along the mountainous western border, and vibrant fishing
enterprises around the many lakes and rivers.
Uganda gained its independence from Great Britain in 1962, and in 1996 there was a
population of about 20 million (50% of which was 0 to 14 years old). The majority of the
population is involved in agricultural pursuits, with the primary exports being coffee, tea,
cotton, and copper. While the nation is administered as a system of districts, linguistic
and cultural features (including complex clan systems) continue to emphasize precolonial social groupings as important markers of ethnicity.
Language
As a site of migration and settlement since the first millennium BCE, the region of what
is today Uganda has been the converging point of populations speaking a variety of Bantu
(Benue-Congo) and Nilo-Saharan (specifically eastern Sudanic) languages. Estimates
have placed the number of distinct linguistic communities in Uganda at over forty, with
the Bantu speakers located primarily to the south of Lake Kyoga and Lake Albert and
making up about 70 percent of the total population. Language structure has a significant
impact on the nature of Uganda’s oral folklore, and similar modes of expression may be
found among speakers of related languages. The Nilo-Saharan speakers of the North, for
example, maintain many linguistic ties to southern Sudan and western Kenya, with whom
they share many similarities in expressive culture. Multilingualism is widespread,
especially since independence and with the growth of urban centers, such as the capital
city of Kampala. English and Kiswahili are recognized as the two official languages of
Uganda, but a myriad of local linguistic communities continue to thrive.
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Folklore
Research in Ugandan folklore has primarily emphasized material culture, oral literature,
and the performing arts. Material culture studies have focused on the archaeological
record, as well as the application and distribution of contemporary production techniques.
The examination of pottery techniques in the former kingdoms of Ankole and Bunyoro,
for example, has yielded detailed information concerning the migration patterns of
nomadic pastoralist communities in the early fifteenth century. Additional research
(carried out primarily in the 1950s) has focused on the countrywide distribution of a
variety of local technologies such as building construction, weaving techniques, iron
working, body adornment, and instrument construction.
Uganda retains a remarkable diversity of oral literary forms, including tales, proverbs,
riddles, games, and poetry. Additionally, each of these forms maintains a large set of
subcategories, which vary in different regions of the country and are especially
significant with respect to poetry. A small but important body of work exists on the
country’s oral literature, with the central kingdom of Buganda being the most thoroughly
studied (folklore materials were published in Luganda as early as 1908). Significant
folklore research has also been conducted in Acholi, Ankole, Busoga, Kigezi, and
Lugbara. The style and content of oral forms in Uganda varies primarily in relation to
Members of the Tebifanana Abifuna
Cultural Group performing dances
from the Kiganda tradition in southcentral Uganda, 1995.
Photo © Wade Patterson.
distinct linguistic communities, but similarities between speakers of related languages,
as well as local variation within single-language groups, is notable. For example, many
western Bantu speakers (such as the Banyankole, Bakiga, Banyoro, and Batoro) share a
form of heroic poetic recitation that exploits their languages’ elaborate grammatical
potentials, often drawing upon deliberately archaic imagery, including cattle-keeping
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imagery. Generally speaking, oral literary forms tend to be gender-specific and associated
with particular stages in the life cycle (that is, specific forms are considered the domain
of particular age groups). As with many African societies, the right to perform particular
genres, as well as the appropriate social conditions for the application of oral forms, is
determined largely by an individual’s position in the hierarchy of society.
Uganda displays a diversity of performing arts traditions that combine aspects of
music, dance, and drama. The southern kingdom of Buganda is the most thoroughly
studied region, with significant research also having been undertaken in Busoga, Ankole,
and Acholi.
Musical Instruments
Uganda retains an unusually large number of musical instruments and performance
styles, which vary according to region. As with the other arts mentioned, musical form is
also closely tied to linguistic structure, and speakers of the same language family often
share common instrumentation and performance features.
Membranophones
Drums figure prominently in almost every region of Uganda. In addition to providing the
primary accompaniment for a variety of dance forms, drums were an important part of
the royal regalia in many kingdoms and chiefdoms of East Africa. Royal drums were
often given human names, housed in special locations, and were only beaten on special
ceremonial occasions. With the recent reinstatement of some precolonial polities (as
cultural icons with limited political powers), these royal drums are once again an
important feature of group identity.
There are two general varieties of drums in Uganda: double membrane (often called
Uganda drums) and single membrane. Dimensions and construction techniques vary
according to region, but laced cowhide is widely used for double-membrane drums,
which are generally conical in shape and played with sticks, hands, or a combination of
the two. Pinned and glued monitor-lizard skins are often used for single membrane
drums, which resemble an elongated goblet and are played with the hands.
Idiophones
This class of instruments includes xylophones, lamellaphones (thumb pianos), bells and
clappers (usually worn and activated by dancing), rattles, half gourds, clay pots, and
percussive troughs. The southern Ugandan xylophone complex (found in Buganda and
Busoga), in which multiple artists combine interlocking parts on a single instrument to
create larger, more complex melodies, is one of the best studied of Uganda’s musical
traditions, although other xylophone traditions exist elsewhere in the country. Large
ensembles of thumb pianos, which incor porate instruments of differing size, are found in
Teso, Lango, and Acholi and have received some scholarly attention.
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Chordophones
A wide variety of string instruments exist in Uganda, including bow harps, lyres, tube
fiddles, zithers, and musical bows. Performances by solo performers in poetic, narrative,
or topical formats is most often accompanied by such instruments, but ensembles are also
known, particularly as they relate to the harp and fiddle. Zithers are common in the west
and among the Acholi in the north, harps are mostly found in the north and northwest
(and as a royal instrument of the Baganda in the south), lyres are common in the south
and east, and fiddles are found throughout the country. Notable research has been
conducted on the string traditions of Buganda, including the ennanga (bow harp),
endongo (lyre) and ndingidi (tube fiddle).
Aerophones
Notched flutes, panpipes, transverse flutes, transverse trumpets, end-blown trumpets, and
a variety of small horns are found throughout Uganda. Aerophones are often played
together in sets, with several people combining interlocking parts in a hocket style. The
related traditions of royal transverse trumpet ensembles (amakondere) of the
Interlacustrine kingdoms has been particularly well studied, as has the royal notched flute
ensemble of the Kabaka of Buganda (called ekibiina ky’abalere).
Dance Traditions
As with Ugandan music, dance traditions vary widely throughout the country. Each
cultural group retains its own distinct set of dances—many of which accompany specific
community events, such as life transition (birth, initiation, marriage, death, etc.) or
Wat Mon Cultural Group performing
the “larakaraka” courtship dance from
Acholi in northern Uganda, 1995.
Photo © Wade Patterson.
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seasonal celebrations. Within each cultural setting, there is also a notable degree of local
variation, and performances by specific communities can differ from one another while
still being recognizable as belonging to the same overall form. Beyond this regional
variation, there are some general motifs that are exhibited in the traditional dances of
various regions of the country. In general, dance formations may constitute lines, circles,
or compact groups.
Waist-Centered Dances
Dance traditions of the southern regions of Buganda and Busoga emphasize complex
waist movements, while upper-body motion is minimized. Specific foot patterns create
the desired waist movements, which are further accentuated by cloth and skin adornments
worn around the hips. Dances such as the baakisimba of Buganda and the tamenhaibuga
of Busoga have been well documented.
Leaping and Stamping Dances
Western Ugandan dances often accentuate movements that bring the feet into forceful
contact with ground. In Bunyoro, for example, activated rattles worn around the ankles
during the ekitaguriro dance emphasize such action. Similarly, dancers of the ekizino
from Kigezi speak of “raising dust” and “punishing the ground” when describing spirited
performances. In the Northeast, among the Karamojong, dances in which performers
execute dramatic leaps with their arms held firmly at their sides are common and closely
related to similar dances performed by the Massai of Kenya.
Dances Emphasizing Arm, Leg, and Head Movement
Dances of northern and northwestern Uganda use combinations of arm and leg
movements that often reflect battle-inspired or work-related motion. The use of ankle
bells is common, but foot movements are generally more subdued and complex than the
stamping dances of the west and northeast. Many of the northern regions (such as Acholi
and Karamoja) also use a variety of head adornments that incorporate feathers and
emphasize subtle neck and head movements. The best documented of these is the chiefly
bwola dance from Acholi, which may incorporate more than one hundred performers in a
carefully choreographed dance-drama.
References
Anderson, Lois. 1984. Multipart Relationships in Xylophone and Tuned Drum Traditions in
Buganda. In Studies in African Music, eds. Nketia, K. and Djedje, J.C, Los Angeles: UCLA.
Cohen, David W. 1972. The Historical Tradition of Busoga: Mukama and Kintu. Oxford:
Clarendon Press.
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Cooke, Andrew, and James Micklem. 1999. Ennanga Harp Songs of Buganda: Temutewo
Mukasa’s “Gganga Alula.” In African Music 7, no. 4:47–65.
Cooke, Andrew, James Micklem, and Mark Stone. 1999. Xylophone Music of Uganda: The
Embaire of Nakibembe, Busoga. In African Music 7, no. 4:29–46.
Cooke, Peter. 1990. Fieldwork in Lango, Northern Uganda, Feb-Mar 1997. In African Music 7, no.
4:66–72.
Kagwa, Apolo Sir. 1928. Uganda Folklore and Proverbs. In Engero za Baganda. London:
Religious Tract Society.
Kubik, G. 1964. Xylophone Playing in Southern Uganda. In The Journal of the Royal
Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland 94:138–159.
Kubik, G. 1984. Uganda. In The New Grove Dictionary of Musical Instruments. Ed. Stanley Sadie.
London: Macmillan.
Kyagambiddwa, Joseph. 1955. African Music from the Source of the Nile. New York: Praeger.
Mbabi-Katana, S. 1970. Similarities of Musical Phenomena over a Large Part of the African
Continent as Evidenced by the Irambi and Empango Side-Blown Trumpet Styles and Drum
Rhythms. In African Urban Notes 4:25.
Morris, H.F. 1964. The Heroic Recitations of the Bahima of Ankole. London: Oxford University
Press.
Mukasa, Edward G. 1977. A Brief Anthology on Uganda Musical Instruments. Kampala: Ministry
of Culture and Community Development.
Ngologoza, P. 1969. Kigezi and its People. Kampala: East African Literature Bureau.
P’Bitek, Okot. 1974. Horn of My Love. Nairobi: Heinemann Kenya.
Roscoe, J. 1911. The Baganda: An Account of their Native Customs and Beliefs. London:
Macmillan.
Trowell, Margaret, and K.P.Wachsmann. 1953. Tribal Crafts of Uganda. London: Oxford
University Press.
Van Thiel, Paul. 1977. Multi-Tribal Music of Ankole: An Ethnomusicological Study Including a
Glossary of Musical Terms. Belgium: Musee Royal De L’Afrique Centrale.
Wachsmann, K.P. 1971. Musical Instruments in Kiganda Tradition and their Place in the East
African Scene. In Essays on Music and History in Africa. Ed. K.P.Wachsmann. Evanston, 111.:
Northwestern University Press.
Wachsmann, K.P. 1950. An Equal-Stepped Tuning in a Ganda Harp. Nature 4184:40.
WADE PATTERSON
See also Dance; East African Folklore; Music and Dance—Uganda; Music in
Africa
PERSONAL EXPERIENCE
NARRATIVES
Personal narratives are first-person prose narratives based on the performer’s own
experiences. In everyday conversation, people tell stories about the ordinary, and
sometimes extraordinary, events that shape our lives (see Stahl 1978 and Langellier
1989). Telling personal-experience narratives is therefore part of normal life and a
component of daily discourse. However, this simple definition and the fact that these
stories often go unnoticed as “story” belie the importance personal narratives play in
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people’s lives. It is often in the mundane and the ubiquitous that the profound and
meaningful is to be found (Adler 1994). As they are told and retold, these personal,
individual stories begin to reflect public and social norms, values, and concerns on an
intimate, private level.
In folkloristics, personal-experience narratives are performed, single-episodic stories
that are part of a performer’s storytelling repertoire (Stahl 1977). They are told as true
stories since they are based on the teller’s own, unique, lived experience—although
elaboration and exaggeration sometimes occur in order to make the narrative more
humorous or increase its emotional impact. As single-episodic narratives, personalexperience narratives are different from personal oral histories and illness narratives,
which often narrate different and multiple events and experiences occurring over time.
Personal-experience narratives tend to focus on one particular event or experience and
have a more defined narrative structure.
Furthermore, illness narratives are often consciously elicited by professionals, such as
doctors, researchers, and social workers. Personal-experience narratives are part of an
individual’s store of stories and arise within normal conversation. These personal
accounts of the mundane, humorous, or traumatic emerge out of a “felt need” to share the
experience at the heart of the narrative (Stahl 1977).
Psychologists and social workers have found personal-experience narratives to be a
useful tool in restoring people’s self-esteem and positive self-identity (Adler 1994).
Moreover, for people who have suffered a traumatic experience or something out of the
ordinary, personal-experience narratives can be therapeutic, for they operate as an
informal post-traumatic stress debriefing. The work of Eleanor Wachs (1988) and Tim
Tangherlini (1998), on the narratives of crime victims and paramedics, respectively, show
how these personal stories facilitate coping, making sense of traumatic experiences, and
can help the individual to regain a sense of control over events and emotions. The teller
benefits from the experience of narrating a personal event—as does the audience. The
listener participates in a direct experience that leads to what Donald Baird calls
“experiential meaning,” defined as a process of engagement with the narrative that results
in the narrated experience becoming part of the listener’s own “resource for living their
own lives” (1996, 26).
In Africa, personal-experience narratives are an overlooked genre of everyday
expression. In research presented in 2001, Mbugua wa-Mungai and David Samper found
that personal-experience narratives about extra-ordinary events on Kenya’s privately
owned minibuses (called matatu) help Nairobi residents cope with traumatic experiences
and successfully manage their anger and frustration. Stories about theft, verbal and
physical abuse, hijacking, sexual harassment, and even rape are first and foremost part of
an informal information system that serves to warn fellow commuters about which
vehicles, routes, and times to avoid. Also, sharing these stories not only psychologically
prepares Nairobi residents to deal with these experiences, but also provides them with
possible strategies and courses of action when faced with similar situations. Anger and
frustration are two common emotions of Nairobi commuters, and narration helps to vent
and create emotional distance. In Nairobi, personal-experience narratives about matatu
are an informal mode of psychological debriefing. Narrating these events to a
sympathetic audience allows people to release some of the emotional impact of the
trauma they experienced. Storytelling gives structure and imposes order on chaotic
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experiences, emotions, and events, which restores to the narrator a sense of personal
control (see Bendix 1990). At the very least, storytelling is a mark of survival.
In her 1995 study of Hutu refugees in Tanzania, Liisa Malkki encountered harrowing
personal narratives of murder, genocide, and escape. Over time, these narratives began to
reveal the emergence of similar patterns, suggesting that these personal stories of survival
are part of a process in which the social and communal meaning of the Burundi holocaust
is being defined.
References
Adler, Herbert. 1994. The Psychotherapeutic Use of Personal Experience Narratives. Ph.D.
dissertation, University of Pennsylvania.
Bendix, Regina. 1990. Reflections of Earthquake Narratives. Western Folklore 49:331–347.
Baird, Donald. 1996. Personal Narrative and Experiential Meaning. Journal of American Folklore
109:5–30.
Langellier, Kristin M. 1989. Personal narratives: Perspectives on Theory and Research. Text and
Performance Quarterly 9:243–276.
Malkki, Liisa. 1995. Purity and Exile: Violence, Memory, and National Cosmology among Hutu
Refugees in Tanzania. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Stahl, Sandra. 1977. The Personal Narrative as Folklore. Journal of Folklore Research 14:9–30.
wa-Mungai, Mbugua, and David Samper. 2001. “No Mercy. No Remorse”: Personal Experience
Narratives about Public Transportation in Nairobi, Kenya. Paper presented at the American
Folklore Society Annual Meeting in Anchorage, Alaska.
DAVID A.SAMPER
See also Gossip and Rumor; Leyonds: East Africa; Oral Traditions; Palaver
(Kinzoni) in Kongo Life
PIDGIN AND CREOLE LANGUAGES
A pidgin is a reduced language that results from extended contact between groups of
people with no language in common. Pidgins evolve from the need for some means of
verbal communication, often for the purpose of trade.
Creole languages, by the most general popular account, arise when a pidgin becomes
the native language of a new generation of children. In other words, a pidgin becomes a
creole when it acquires native speakers.
English-Based Pidgins and Creoles
English-based pidgins and creoles are spoken in West Africa from the Gambia to the
Cameroon. They are spoken in countries where English is an official language. These
countries are, from west to east, Gambia, Sierra Leone, Liberia, Ghana, Nigeria, and
Cameroon. According to Gilbert Schneider, “Pidgin-English is the most common name
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given to a lingua franca spoken throughout West Africa from Sierra Leone to the Gabon.”
It is a medium of communication for African peoples who have no first language in
common, for white men of various ethnic backgrounds, and for the working man, trader,
and transient peoples of West Africa. Pidgin English is not a mere simplification of
English, but a separate and describable language. Its vocabulary is predominantly English
based, but the lexical forms have changed their meaning to fit into the value system and
world view of the African people.
Gambia
Gambian Krio (locally called Aku or Patois) is spoken as a home language by some 3,500
Creoles in Banjul, and by others as a second language (Hancock 1969a, 8).
Sierra Leone
Krio is an English-based lingua franca used throughout Sierra Leone as an intertribal
language of trade and social communication. It is the mother tongue of the descendants of
freed slaves who settled in the Sierra Leone peninsula between 1787 and the early years
of the nineteenth century. It is a second language for other residents of the area whose
mother tongue is one of the Sierra Leone languages. It has also spread throughout the
country, principally to the more urban areas, as an additional language (Jones 1971, 66).
Liberia
Liberian English encompasses several restructured varieties. There is a creole spoken as a
home language by the descendants of settlers from the United States (3 percent of the
total population of 2,180,000 in 1984), who live largely in and around the capital,
Monrovia (306,000 inhabitants). There are also second-language varieties of this speech
used as a lingua franca throughout the rest of the country. One of these, Kru Pidgin
English, is more similar than the other varieties to West African English because of its
distinct historical origins. All of the varieties in Liberia have influenced one another and
appear to form a continuum rather than discrete entities (Holm 1989, 421).
Ghana
The major speakers of Ghanaian Pidgin English (GPE) are males, students, military and
police personnel, youngsters, co-workers, and friends. Educational institutions, urban
areas, workplaces, lorry stations, military and police barracks, and entertainment venues
are the most obvious places where one will hear GPE. The usage of GPE is mostly in the
spoken mode; there is little usage of GPE in the written mode. Speakers of GPE use it for
communication, entertainment, politics, socialization, and fun (Amoako 1992, 143).
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Nigeria
Nigerian Pidgin English is a lingua franca for many, and thus a true pidgin in Hall’s
sense; it is also a mother tongue for a number of families in certain areas and
communities, and as such might be defined as a creole language (Mafeni 1971, 95).
Many Nigerian novelists, playwrights, advertising agents, trade unionists, and even
politicians have realized, and are exploiting, the great potentialities of the language as a
medium of mass communication. The various broadcasting corporations in Nigeria have
done much to popularize pidgin by allowing its use in advertisement. In addition, the
NBC radio serial Save Journey has been running with great success for a number of
years, and Albert Achebe and other writers have used pidgin in their novels and poems
(ibid. 100).
Cameroon
Cameroon Pidgin English is widely used along the East Cameroon coast, especially in the
Douala area. Though it has little official recognition, it is still an important medium of
communication for Cameroon’s political, social, religious, and economic life (BarbagStoll 1983, 38).
Pidgin and Creole Varieties Based on African Languages
Fanakalo
Fanakalo, which is also called Fanagalo, Isikula (Coolie language), Kithen Kaffir (also a
pejorative term), or Basic Zulu, is a pidginized variety of Zulu spoken in southern Africa,
especially in the gold, diamond, coal, and copper mines, where the workers come from
many different language backgrounds (Holm 1989, 555). D. T Cole estimates that about
70 percent of its lexicon is derived from Zulu, 24 percent from English, and 6 percent
from Afrikaans (1964, 549).
Kituba
Kituba, which is also called Kikongo-Kituba, Kikongo simplifié, or Kileta, is a simplified
form of Kikongo. It is estimated that Kituba is spoken as a first or second language by
some 5 million people in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) and in the city of
Brazzaville in the Republic of the Congo (Holm 1989, 557). Kituba enjoys the prestige of
a big-city language associated with modern life, while ethnic Kikongo is associated with
the Bakongo people and their traditional culture.
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Lingala
Lingala, also called Ngala, Mangala, Bangala, and Lingala, is spoken along the Congo
River in western and northern DRC, in Brazzaville, and in the Central African Republic
by an estimated 10 to 12 million speakers. As Belgian traders, soldiers, and colonial
officials arrived in increasing numbers toward the end of the nineteenth century, they
used Mangala for contact with the native population, leading to a pidginized variety of
reduced structure and vocabulary called Bangala. By the first decade of the twentieth
century a creolized form, which came to be called Lingala, emerged in urban centers of
interethnic contact (Holm 1989, 559).
Sango
Restructured Sango is a lingua franca spoken by over one million people in the Central
African Republic as well as the bordering areas of the Democratic Republic of the
Congo, Brazzaville, Cameroon, and Chad. It is a pidginized variety of one or more
closely related dialects used as a second language by most of its speakers; however, it is
gaining a growing number of native speakers in the capital of the Central African
Republic, Bangui. It is based on Sango and possibly other dialects of the cluster known as
Ngbandi of the Adamawa Eastern branch of the Niger-Congo family; the restructured
variety is also known as Sango (Holm 1989, 562). Pidginized Sango emerged from the
contact between the native people and Africans from other areas brought into this area as
laborers (by Europeans).
Swahili
Swahili is the first language of some 5 million people who live mainly in a narrow strip
along the coast of Kenya and Tanzania and on offshore islands such as Zanzibar.
Varieties of Swahili that have been restructured to varying degrees are spoken as a lingua
franca by over 30 million people in East Africa and the Democratic Republic of the
Congo. The importance of Swahili as a lingua franca grew under the Belgian
administration of the Congo, which recruited soldiers in Zanzibar and used Swahili for
training them. In Katanga, Swahili became the lingua franca of a multilingual population
drawn in to work in the copper mines from the Luba-speaking areas of northern Katanga
province, from Rwanda and Burundi, and from Zambia and Zimbabwe. Swahili became a
creole in Katanga (Holm 1989, 565).
A pidginized variety of Swahili called Kivita (“war language”) was used in the former
British East African army, while British and other European settlers in the Kenyan
highlands used a variety called Kisetla with their servants or farm laborers (Vitale 1980).
I.F. Hancock notes two mixed, and possibly creolized, varieties of Swahili on the Somali
coast: Banjuni on the islands of the same name near the Kenyan border, and Ci-miini (or
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Kilambizi or Chilambuzi) in the coastal town of Brava (or Barawa or Miini), believed by
its speakers to be a mixture of Swahili and Portuguese (Hancock 1979b, 390).
Pidginization and creolization will no doubt continue as speakers of different
languages come in increasing contact.
References
Amoako, Joe K.Y.B. 1992. Ghanaian Pidgin English: In Search of Diachronic, Synchronic, and
Sociolinguistic Evidence. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Florida at Gainesville.
Barbag-Stoll, Anna. 1983. Social and Linguistic History of Nigerian Pidgin English as Spoken by
the Yoruba with Special Reference to the English Derived Lexicon. Tubingen, Germany:
Stauffenberg Verlag.
Cole, D.T. 1964, Fangalo and the Bantu Languages in South Africa. In Language in Culture and
Society: A Reader in Linguistics and Anthropology, ed. Dell Hymes. New York: Harper and
Row.
DeCamp, David. 1971. Introduction: The Study of Pidgin and Creole Languages. In Pidginization
and Creolization of Languages, ed. Dell Hymes. New York: Cambridge University Press.
Fasold, Ralph. 1990. Sociolinguistics of Language: Vol. 2, Introduction to Linguistics. Cambridge,
England: Basil Blackwell.
Hall, Robert A. 1954. Hands off Pidgin English. Sydney: Pacific Publications Limited.
Hancock, I.F. 1969a. A Provisional Comparison of the English-Based Atlantic Creoles. African
Languages Review 8:7–72.
Hancock, I.F. 1979b. The Relationship of Black Vernacular English to the Atlantic Creoles.
Working Paper of the African and Afro-American Studies and Research Center, University of
Texas at Austin.
Holm, John. 1988. Pidgins and Creole Vol. 1. New York: Cambridge University Press.
Holm, John. 1989. Pidgins and Creole Vol. 2. New York: Cambridge University Press.
Hymes, Dell. 1971. Pidginization and Creolization of Languages. New York: Cambridge
University Press.
Jones, Eldred. 1971. “Krio: an English-Based Languages” of Sierra Leone. In The English
Language in West Africa, ed. John W. Spencer. London: Longman.
Lyons, John. 1981. Language and Linguistics. New York: Cambridge University Press.
Mafeni, B. 1971. Nigeria Pidgin English. In The English Language in West Africa, ed. John
W.Spencer. London: Longman.
Múhlhaüsler, Peter. 1986. Pidgin and Creole Linguistics. Oxford: Basil Blackwell.
Schneider, Gilbert D. 1966. West African Pidgin-English: A Descriptive Linguistic Analysis with
Texts and Glossary from the Cameroon Area. Ph.D. dissertation, The Hartford Seminary
Foundation, Hartford.
Todd, Loreto. 1974. Pidgins and Creoles. London: Routledge.
Vitale, A.J. 1980. KiSetla: Linguistic and Sociolinguistic Aspects of a Pidgin Swahili of Kenya.
Anthropological Linguistics 22, no. 2: 47–65.
Wardhaugh, Ronald. 2001. An Introduction to Socio linguistics. Maiden, Mass.: Blackwell.
JOE AMOAKO
See also Languages
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POLYRHYTHM
Polyrhythm is the simultaneous use of two or more contrasting rhythms in a musical
texture. Constituent rhythms are typically assigned to individual instruments or
instrumental groups within an ensemble, or to individual voices or voice parts in a
chorus. Each rhythmic pattern has a clear profile that is reinforced by extensive
repetition. The simultaneous sounding of individual rhythms produces a resultant rhythm
that is different from, but fully compatible with, its constituents. Although they are
frequently discussed in tandem, polyrhythm and polymeter are different techniques. A
musical texture is polymetric if it uses two or more meters simultaneously. Meter denotes
a fixed, recurring temporal unit with a prescribed accentual scheme. Thus, 2/4 means two
quarter-notes in a bar with the normative pattern stressed-unstressed, while 3/4 means
three quarter-notes in a bar in the sequence stressed-unstressed-unstressed. Although
polymetric music often features polyrhythm, polyrhythm normally operates within a
single governing meter, not two or more.
Although it has appeared sporadically in European and American music (fourteenthcentury French music and American jazz, respectively), polyrhythm is most strongly
prominent in the traditional music of Africa. From the earliest writings to recent
ethnomusicological studies, rhythm looms large as a salient and defining feature of
African music. Since music making is typically communal rather than individual, it is
natural for African repertories to feature ensemble music with distinct layers of rhythmic
organization. In addition, the close association between music and dance means that
movement patterns and other choreographic constraints exert an influence on the
organization of ensemble music.
Two well-documented instances of polyrhythmic usage are the ensemble drumming of
the Ewe of southern Ghana (studied in the 1950s by the British scholar A.M.Jones, and
more recently by the American ethnomusicologist and performer David Locke) and the
music of horn ensembles in the Central African Republic (written about by the French
scholar Simha Arom). In Eweland, the music of community dances like agbadza,
atsiagbekor, and kpegisu is performed by an ensemble of instruments comprising,
typically, a bell, rattle, small drum, larger drum, and largest, or lead, drum. Handclaps
provided by dancers, singers, and some onlookers reinforce the basic meter. The bell
plays a distinctive and memorable pattern that provides a rhythmic foundation for the
ensemble as a whole. Small and larger drums beat patterns of greater complexity, some of
them accentually distinct from the prevailing meter. The lead, or “master,” drum
performs the freest and most complex patterns. Relying on the foundation supplied by the
other instruments, the lead drummer instructs or converses with the dancers, ensures the
rhythmic security of the ensemble, and, most important, exposes rhythmic patterns of
considerable musical interest with appropriate virtuosity.
The horn ensembles of the Banda-Linda of the Central African Republic feature over a
dozen instruments, each playing a distinctive rhythm. Although individual patterns
sometimes resemble one another, none of them is wholly identical with another. Patterns
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are typically brief and subject to extensive repetition. Holding the ensemble together is a
grand tactus, akin to the beat of an invisible conductor. This ensures that the timing of
individual horn entrances is precise and metrically constrained, and the polyrhythmic
effect is thus guaranteed. A similar pattern of organization is evident in the singing of
various so-called pygmy groups. Among the Baaka, for example, distinct layers of sung
motives unfold simultaneously, sometimes in hocket fashion (different voices sing
different notes of the same melody in turn) and often responding to externalized
movement or dance. Although the ensemble’s controlling beat is not necessarily
prominent (if sounded at all) it is nevertheless felt by performers.
These are but brief instances of a technique of musical organization that occurs with
surprising consistency in a variety of repertoires across the African continent. Although
polyrhythm is used most authentically in traditional music, it is occasionally found in
popular music, as well as in so-called art music, despite the challenges posed by
transcribing African rhythms in staff notation. Non-African composers such as Steve
Reich and Gyorgy Ligeti have drawn, respectively, on the polyrhythmic techniques of
Ghanaian ensemble musics and Central African horn orchestras. The vitality of
polyrhythm as an organizing principle is unquestioned. Its regular use in daily musical
life in Africa will doubtless continue, even as the forces of modernization impel a transfer
of the technique from ensembles of drums, bells, and elephant horns to guitars, trumpets,
drum sets, and pianos. Gathering more ethnographic data about its repertorial provenance
will not only serve as a record of musical thinking in traditional Africa, but provide a
valuable resource for composers and scholars.
References
Arom, Simha. 1985. Polyphonies et polyrythmies instrumentales d’Afrique Centrale: structure et
methodologie. Paris: Selaf. English translation, Cambridge, England: Cambridge University
Press, 1991.
Jones, A.M. 1959. Studies in African Music. 2 vols. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Locke, David. 1987. Drum Gahu: A Systematic Method for an African Percussion Piece. Crown
Point, Ind.: White Cliffs.
KOFI AGAWU
See also Dialogic Performances; Call-and-Response in African Narrating; Music
in Africa; Silence in Expressive Behavior
POPULAR CULTURE
There is not a clear and generally accepted concept of popular culture in Africa. Many
scholars have given different definitions or interpretations, which are sometimes
contradictory, and some specialists are convinced the term popular culture should not be
used at all. Nevertheless, a useful agreement is growing, mainly based on the work of
Karin Barber. Her approach is followed here. The most powerful argument for using the
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term is that it makes things visible that would otherwise be ignored. Barber defines
popular culture as the area between traditional culture and elite culture—a vast area that
is flexible and ever changing, representing a loose collection of different cultural
expressions. It often escapes the attention of the outside world, but it forms the
ingredients of the lifestyle of the major part of the African (mainly urban) population. In
spite of the great variety in expression and the apparent tendency of all kinds of popular
arts to change constantly, there are common denominators.
Essentially, what all forms of popular culture have in common is that they are a
product of a dialogue with Western culture and modernity. It results from a selective and
creative rearrangement of specific elements (forms, themes, materials, techniques) of
Western culture and indigenous culture, which form a new product that is adapted to new
times, surroundings, and audiences.
Popular culture grew naturally in Africa’s cities, especially in coastal towns, industrial
centers, and seats of colonial government. Colonial culture had its greatest impact in
these areas because imported products came to them first, and because sailors and
tradesmen were available to introduce new products and ideas. New techniques and
novelties, such as radio and the cinema, were launched in the cities. For the urban
population, the city offered new impressions, new possibilities, and new lifestyles. Also,
the population itself was changing. Young and enterprising people left the villages for the
cities, leaving at least a part of their strong social and ethnic network behind. The new
arrivals came into a new social fabric with people of different regions and different
religions, all speaking different languages. They moved from a predominantly
agricultural life to one with all kinds of new jobs and businesses, all based on a monetary
economy.
Middle Art, sign painting. Onitsha,
Nigeria, 1981.
Photo © Paul Faber.
In the cities, people found themselves in a new exciting environment, with new
challenges and new possibilities, but never in very luxurious circumstances. The
producers of popular arts, music, literature, and theater all found themselves in a narrow
space, constantly forced to come up with new ideas, new products, and new markets due
to heavy competition. Few succeeded in making a living that freed them from worries.
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The producers belonged to the urban masses. They generally had some basic general
education, and were either self-taught or trained by practicing colleagues in their field.
They shared the same social and cultural background with their clients, audience, and
fans.
The urban environment, spreading more and more to the countryside, forms the
location where popular theater thrives, but it also forms the subject of many different
forms of popular art. In songs, plays, and paintings, people deal with aspects of living in
the city and all the complications that come with it.
In this close relation to social and economic development, popular history has a
specific history. Many early outbursts of popular art forms started in the early decades of
the twentieth century, sometimes even in the nineteenth century. But it was especially in
the years after World War II that African popular culture matured. The economic growth
in the cities was relatively high then, the war itself had shown the colonial powers to be
more vulnerable than previously thought, and independence seemed a viable possibility.
Popular culture thrived in the 1960s and 1970s. In the following decades, the influence of
mass media became more noticeable, changing the character of popular culture in a
possibly decisive way.
This was also the era of a growing feeling of national and continental pride. Black
intellectuals and political leaders stressed, in articles and speeches, the concepts of
negritude (particularly Leopold Senghor), black consciousness (Kwame Nkrumah), and
later Authenticite (Sese-Seko Mobutu). This growth of awareness led to an emphasis on
traditional African heritage.
Visual Arts
The visual popular arts in Africa are dominated by painting. The choice for this medium
was in itself an expression of modernity, as it was relatively new in the African context. It
involved the use of new materials such as boards and canvas, brushes, and imported
paints in many bright colors. Several painters were active before World War II, but
painting became a serious affair only in the 1950s when materials were more readily
available and a class of people emerged that could afford to buy or commission paintings
for purposes of commercial advertising, public decoration, or private contemplation.
Painted signs for commercial advertising were directly linked with urbanization and
the growth of economic activities. Countless people set up small enterprises in the
informal economy that dominated many areas, especially West Africa. They needed to
underline their presence, due both to competition and the need to establish their
individuality. Painters fulfilled their needs. These were, of course, small businessmen
themselves, usually self-taught, who drew their models from photographs, magazine
pictures, calendars, and posters. Barber signs were seen everywhere. These were painted
advertisements made for small-scale barbers who set up under a tree and needed
something to draw attention to their business. This grew into a large field of indigenous
portraiture, with a mixed message. The main idea was to draw attention to the barber, but
it drew attention to the capacities of the painter as well. At the same time it reflected
contemporary fashion and hairstyles, and showed how people saw themselves. Other
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customers followed, such as tailors and mechanics. Painters worked to make large posters
for concert parties, and eventually for the cinema.
Barbershop, Lapos, 1981.
Photo © Paul Faber.
The demand for painters continued to grow, and owners of shops, bars, and restaurants
have used their services to embellish their buildings. This has enabled painters to work on
a large scale, as the painter is often asked to fill one or more walls and to create an
ambiance where the clients feel at ease and see their identity confirmed. Portraits of
popular heroes have also appeared, such as musical stars. Elements of landscape and
village life are used to evoke a harmonious world, where one can find peace from the
hectic town life.
Another form of public art was painted on the trucks and cars that transport people or
goods. Specific vehicle body parts were decorated with painted scenes and texts,
following rules that were invented locally for each genre. Nigerian “mamy wagons”—
trucks converted into buses—are famous for their brightly painted adages such as “God
Dey” and “No Condition Permanent.”
Apart from these paintings in the public space, artworks have also been made for
private use. Portraits are popular, though largely confined to private interiors and made
only on commission. People order portraits for reasons of commemoration: parents that
passed away, for example, are sometimes memorialized on canvas. The painter starts
from a small photograph and translates it into a full-size painting. The unique techniques
of the painter are the selling point, especially as color photography has become widely
available. The painter can also beautify the subject—the target is not realism, but realistic
idealism.
Three-dimensional forms of modern, individual portraiture have been devoted
primarily to commemorative sculpture. Figurative grave sculptures have been a feature of
mourning since the 1950s. In Nigeria this trend became fashionable mainly through the
activities of Jack Sunday Akpan, who produced life-size cement statues of deceased
persons. This trend in grave art has a parallel in Ghana, where a similar fashion
developed in making figurative carved and brightly painted coffins. The shapes of these
coffins—made by Kane Kwei beginning in the 1950s, and later by his former pupil Paa
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Joe—refer to the profession of the deceased. When an onion farmer had passed away, he
might find his last resting place in an onion-shaped coffin, while an important or wealthy
man might repose in a wooden Mercedes.
Another important category of art for private use are story paintings, which are painted
scenes that usually have a narrative context. The genre-paintings made in Shaba, in
former Zaire, beginning in the 1950s are a well-researched example. Here an urban
middle class, economically connected to the copper mine industry, developed the habit of
decorating their private space with paintings of meaningful scenes. Certain themes or
“genres” were very popular, regardless of how they were made, making it clear that it
was not esthetics that counted, but content. Themes such as “Mami Wata,” “Colonie
Belge,” or images of the civil war, have been made and sold in vast numbers. The
detailed analyses of J.Fabian and I.Szombati show that these works represent and reflect
collective memories that are interpreted for the present social situation. Social shifts in
society have led to changes in meaning of old themes and the generation of new ones.
These paintings are linked to literary forms of popular culture. The popular
historiography finds a remarkable example in the paintings of Tshibumba Kanda, which
present an overview of national history from the precolonial past into a distant future.
This project, however, was only realized due to the financial resources of a Western
researcher.
Popular Music
In the vast field of African music, there is a similar history of new inventions originating
in the hybridization that went on in the early centers of urbanization. From the nineteenth
century on, there has been an interaction of local music styles with different forms of
Western music, such as church hymns, sea shanties, and military brass-band music. The
early dance orchestras played Western music on instruments that were new to the
continent.
The guitar has made a deep and lasting contribution to many different kinds of African
popular music. Sailors, mainly Kru from Liberia, introduced the instrument in coastal
ports all the way to Zaire. Often, the guitar replaced sounds and effects of comparable
traditional instruments. The new music was popular in the industrial cities, with their
mixed populations of Africans from different regions, descendants of freed slaves from
Brazil and Cuba, and migrant workers from different countries. The cities also changed
where and how the music was played. Music had traditionally been a community affair,
performed in village centers. Now it moved into the streets, the bars, and dance halls.
The development of a recording industry helped to spread the music across large
distances, made musicians famous, and lead to followers and reactions elsewhere. Radio,
which started in Africa in 1924, supported this diffusion very effectively. Again, the first
big impact came only after World War II. This was mainly due to the importation of
many recordings of rumbas, chachas boleros, and mambos from Cuba. This started a
Latin craze, particularly in the French colonies and the Belgian colony of Congo. Part of
the reason for the success was, of course, that listeners recognized the African roots of
this music. It was therefore greeted with great enthusiasm, and music with strong
European characteristics lost ground quickly.
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The 1950s saw the rise of highlife in Ghana, with E.T. Mensah as one of the heroes of
the genre. This was the emergence of a truly popular music, and it had a large impact on
the whole West African region. In Nigeria, the well-known juju music was changed with
the added power of electrical amplification. Immensely influential was the musical boom
that took place in the Congo. The first modern band here was African Jazz, founded in
1953. This band absorbed and reinterpreted Afro-Cuban rhythms in a purely African way,
adding sweet harmonies along the way. This Congolese guitar music swept across the
continent, dominating the musical scene in several countries for a long time.
But popular music was not the simple result of the introduction of novelties. It was
rather the successful blending of traditional rhythms, patterns, instruments, and songs
with new possibilities and selective aspects of the new international styles. The 1960s and
1970s saw the rise of the electrical kora, the reuse of instruments such as the balafon and
sanza in an electronic context, new adaptations of old song traditions by Salif Keita and
others, and the emergence of songs sung in local languages rather than English and
French. South Africa is an exception, however, for here apartheid and white Bantu
politics made traditionalization suspicious. The music scene here was dominated by an
urban culture based on American models of jazz and swing.
More than any other medium, the music scene is internationally oriented and
influenced. Such African American music trends of the 1980s and 1990s as reggae and
hip-hop quickly found their way to Africa, and they were recognized and adapted in
much the same way that Latin American music was in the 1940s.
Popular Theater
The story of the theater reflects, and in fact incorporates, the development of popular
music. A first impulse for a new popular variety of dramatic performances came from the
Western musical genre that was launched in the early decades of the 20th century in the
coastal cities of West Africa. The combination of music, dance, and vaudeville acts
formed a new type of entertainment only to be found in the new cities. Successful groups
toured the area, and school concerts produced a new generation of musicians and
entertainers. After World War II, new forms of music joined in, especially the Ghanaian
highlife. Imported musical genres were adapted to African needs and according to
African fashion. In the booming 1950s, audiences grew, and a thriving form of popular
theater was formed. Groups called concert parties toured the nations of Ghana and Togo.
The Yoruba in Nigeria developed a comparable brand of popular theatre based on
traditional stories.
These theatrical performances combined humor and drama using songs, acting, music,
and sometimes even film. The theater troupes traveled around, spreading new themes and
ideas from the city to the countryside. The interaction of the audience with the stage
performance was strong and intense. The public was amazed and thrilled by the
spectacle, but they also recognized in the plays their own experiences and uncertainties,
mainly resulting from conflicts with modernity. Apart from working on the social and
psychological level, the theater presented a new form of entertainment. The monetary
economy made this form of African show business possible, but technological
developments created the major competition and threat: television. Competition pushed
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the companies toward new inventions and improvisations, but in the end the popular
theater slowly lost ground.
One of the reasons for the success of the popular theater was its use of language.
Language in Africa was changed extensively through urbanization, colonization, and
modern education. New languages developed in different mixtures, creating new ways of
communicating between different language groups. Popular theatre used the language of
the people, as did other textual expressions, such as the Onitsha Market literature, which
comprise small cheap pamphlets with lurid stories that convey an enlarged vision of
modern city life, as well as Kenyan chapbooks and Tanzanian detective stories.
Photography
While urbanization brought many social changes, it also introduced technological
advances that influenced popular culture deeply. The influence of radio and the record
industry on music has already been noted. Even earlier, photography was a new invention
that made its mark on the African visual world. Africa has a long tradition of local
photography that goes back to the early twentieth century, when, in the wake of traveling
Western photographers, Africans learned the technical aspects of photography, as well as
the Western standards of formal portraiture. Later, when the group of potential customers
grew, African photographers set up studios. The heyday of the trade was between the
1950s and 1980s.
The idea of portraiture is a powerful one. Owning a lifelike portrait of oneself, and of
loved ones who had departed or passed away, created new ideas about death. These
photographs gave a physical and visual symbol of family ties and relations with friends
that could be shown in an album.
In the 1980s, black and white photography was slowly replaced by color photography.
Hand printing lots its appeal, and photographers were reduced to being snapshot makers,
bringing their film to labs. Most studios closed down, but in some cases the competition
led to new inventions. Philip Kwame Apagya in Ghana ordered painted backdrops by
local painters and created situations that visualized the dreams, ambitions, and hopes of
his clients. Through the medium of the photograph, a dream would seem to come true for
eternity. In a similar fashion, the Likoni Ferry photographers in Kenya embellished their
studios with many different images and decorations that could transform the
photographed person into a fantasy world, expressing the hopes and dreams of a poor
class of workers who often migrated from the interior of the country to Mombasa.
Film and Television
Photography was, in its early phase, a sophisticated and expensive technological miracle,
but in the hands of Westerners it created products that fast became popular. It took some
decades for local photographers to meet this demand. They were aided in this by the
invention of a cheap and easy-to-make wooden camera that was produced in large
numbers from the 1940s onward. The cinema followed a similar development. The
African movie industry was at first a high-tech medium that required enormous sums of
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money, limiting the number of African productions to a handful that could hardly
compete with cheap imports from the United States, India, and Hong Kong. Television
was more adaptable to national and regional tastes and programs, but there was also
limited room for local production. Developments in video, however, made the medium
more economical and helped improve quality. Production costs were reduced, and new
players came into the market.
Television became a popular medium, in the sense that it reached wherever a
television set could be found. Theater companies have tried to compete, but have found it
difficult. Many African “soap operas” have been based on the activities of popular theater
groups.
Volatile and fluctuating, popular culture has many forms, appropriating a wide variety
of media genres. Due to social, political, and economic changes, popular culture shifts
constantly.
References
Barber, Karin. 1987. Popular Arts in Africa. African Studies Review 30:3.
Barber, Karin, ed. 1997. Readings in African Popular Culture. Bloomington: Indiana University
Press.
Barber, Karin, John Collins, and Alain, Ricard. 1997. West African Popular Theatre. Bloomington:
Indiana University Press.
Bender, Wolfgang. 1991. Sweet Mother, Modern African Music. Chicago: University of Chicago
Press.
Fabian, Johannes. 1998. Moments of Freedom. Anthropology and Popular Culture. Charlottesville:
University Press of Virginia.
Vogel, Susan, ed. 1991. Africa Explores, 20th Century African Art. New York: Centre for African
Art.
PAUL FABER
See also Cartoons; Decorated Vehicles; Electronic Media and Oral Traditions ;
Music: Soukous; Radio and Television Drama; Theater
PORTUGUESE STUDY OF AFRICAN
FOLKLORE
Very little folklore research has taken place in the former Portuguese colonies of Africa.
This is directly related to the development of the discipline in Portugal. Two issues stand
out in this connection: (1) the needs that folklore in Portugal was supposed to meet, and
(2) the role it was to play in the colonial enterprise. Together, these issues illuminate the
field as it currently stands. It is especially worth examining the relationship between
folklore and anthropology, for in Portugal, unlike in many other European colonial
powers, both scientific pursuits went hand in hand and sought to lend legitimacy to one
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another within the context of Portugal’s self-perception as a nation with a civilizing
mission.
Donato Gallo, an Italian social scientist who has produced perhaps the best analysis of
Portuguese anthropology, argues there is no such thing as Portuguese anthropology, but
rather a Portuguese form of knowledge (the word for knowledge in Portuguese is saber,
which has a similar meaning to the French word savoir). This form of knowledge
articulated many of the concerns that, elsewhere, made anthropology an ally of the
colonial enterprise.
The immediate context for the emergence of anthropology and folklore in Portugal
was the historical period running from the middle of the nineteenth century to the early
part of the twentieth. This was a turbulent political period for Portugal, during which
there was a succession of constitutional-monarchical, republican, and dictatorial
governments. This political instability came into conflict with the country’s colonial
ambitions. Most of Portugal’s colonial claims in Africa, particularly in Mozambique and
Angola, came under attack from England, Belgium, and Germany. Consequently, as the
nineteenth century drew to a close, much of the intellectual and political activity in
Portugal centered around the need to define the country’s role in the world. This was the
time when important national institutions saw the light of day, most of which were to
play a crucial role in the development of the scientific study of mores and customs.
It is worth mentioning, in this connection, the Geographic Society of Lisbon and the
Ethnological Museum. The circumstances under which each emerged say much about the
rationale behind anthropology and folklore. It is, therefore, worth taking a closer look at
each of them.
The Ethnological Museum and the Emergence of Portuguese Folklore
The Ethnological Museum was founded in 1893 by a well-known homme des lettres, José
Leite de Vasconcelhos. The creation of this museum was part of a growing national
awareness within Portuguese society. Although Spain’s geographic proximity had long
provided important impulses for the coalescence of a national identity, this identity was
translated into a sense of missionary duty and colonial fate that took little notice of the
burgeoning and impoverished rural population. Jorge Freitas Branco, a folklorist, has
equated the creation of the Ethnological Museum with the “nationalisation of the people”
(1999, 27).
This statement requires elaboration. The Ethnological Museum was going to be the
place where Portuguese popular culture would be publicly represented. This popular
culture was derived mainly from the ways of life of rural people. These included not only
economic activities such as farming and handcrafts, but also rituals, festivities, tales, and
dress. By bringing all these aspects of rural Portuguese life under the banner of a single
Portuguese culture, the hitherto ignored peasant was firmly integrated into an imagined
Portuguese community. This move was further emphasized by a growing interest in the
description of rural ways of life as part of a national culture. Folklorists such as Teófilo
Braga (1985), who in 1885 published a book in which he sought to describe the
“Portuguese people” through its common customs, beliefs, and traditions, played as much
of a role in the nationalization of the people as Vasconcelhos.
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Little occurred, however, between the creation of the museum and the rise to power of
António de Oliveira Salazar’s fascist regime in the late 1920s. Portuguese scientific
interest in cultural matters, in the meantime, was dominated by physical anthropology. At
the University of Oporto, in particular, there was a burgeoning interest that translated into
an effort to understand human evolution through the analysis of the physiological
constitution of humans. It took an alliance between the dictatorship’s national chauvinism
and the rise of cultural anthropology to rekindle an interest in folklore.
Salazar’s dictatorship drew some of its legitimacy from the argument that it was acting
on behalf of the national interest to recover Portugal’s past glories. It sought to give the
impression that its power was directly inspired by Portuguese cultural traditions. Both
domestically and abroad in the colonies the dictatorship pursued policies based on the
need to reassert the national interest. The economies of the colonies, for example, which
until then had been under the control of capital interests from other European colonial
powers, were increasingly brought under Portuguese control. Portugal became the main
recipient of exports from these countries, as well as the main source of their imports.
Politically, African possessions, especially under growing international pressure for
decolonization, changed their colonial status to being part and parcel of Portugal as
“oversea provinces.” In Portugal itself, there was an effort to wrest control of important
economic sectors from mainly British interests.
It was within this context that there was renewed interest in folklore. The National
Propaganda Secretariat, an official body of the fascist state, was charged with
representing Portuguese national culture not only at home, but also abroad, at the various
world exhibitions in Geneva (1935), Paris (1937), and New York and San Francisco
(1939). According to Vera Marques Alves, these exhibitions were to be the backbone of
the 1940 “Portuguese World Exhibition,” which not only represented Portugal’s
metropolitan culture, but also the culture of subject peoples around the world. The 1940
exhibition was the culmination of a process started in 1935 with the creation of a national
ethnographic commission with the “priority task” of carrying out a national folklore and
ethnographic exhibition in which “the most representative and typical aspects of each
province would be present” (Alves 1997, 239). There were regular contests in Portugal
for “Portugal’s most Portuguese village” in which popular culture was further harnessed
to the notion of a single Portuguese national culture.
The Lisbon Geographical Society and the Emergence of Portuguese
Anthropology
The Lisbon Geographical Society was founded in 1875 under the initiative of Luciano
Cordeiro, a very active geographer and public commentator. Cordeiro, as indeed all those
who joined him, identified the role of the society with raising awareness in the nation of
the need to preserve its past glory as an imperial power. This was to be achieved through
a greater concern with Portugal’s colonial enterprise. The general mood toward the end of
the nineteenth century in Portugal was one of discomfort with the place of the country in
the concert of nations. Some argued that the country had overstretched itself and should
pull back from its overseas commitments. Others, like Cordeiro, felt that the problem was
that the country lacked a clear identity. They argued that Portugal could define itself by
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producing and promoting better knowledge of its world. The Lisbon Geographical
Society, as a scientific institution profoundly influenced by positivist ideas of science,
held to the belief that knowledge was the solution to Portugal’s identity crisis.
The society was interested in mapping the world according to Portugal’s centrality.
Apart from strictly cartographic knowledge, the society aimed at producing scientifically
based accounts of the cultures of the societies under Portugal’s colonial rule. There was,
however, a political motive behind this. The Lisbon Geographical Society linked
Portugal’s potential to return to its former glories with its ability to make better use of its
colonies. In this sense, knowledge about other cultures could help formulate a clearer
colonial policy, which in the long run would have positive consequences for the country.
From its inception the society encouraged anthropological research and developed very
close links with anthropologists, some of whom, such as Mendes Côrrea, served at some
stage as its executive secretary.
The general framework within which anthropological knowledge was deployed was
the regulation of native labor. Indeed, as a French commentator once remarked, making
natives work was the golden rule of Portuguese colonial policy (Aurillac 1964, 243). This
was premised on the twin ideas that Africans should be brought under the tutelage of the
colonial state, and that their relationship to the state should be based on the enforcement
of their obligation to work. The tutelage idea found expression in the policy of denying
Africans citizenship status by confining them to “traditional” political and social
institutions, within which they were expected to develop the ability to assimilate
Portuguese culture.
The obligation to work was derived from the belief that Africans were lazy by nature.
If Portugal was to fulfill its civilizing mission, it had no choice but to compel them to
work. Knowledge about the culture of subject populations was, therefore, geared towards
bringing the above-mentioned twin ideas to fruition. Portuguese descriptions of African
culture had an instrumental character—they served the purposes of colonization. At the
same time, however, such descriptions placed these cultures firmly within the fold of the
Portuguese nation, albeit far down in the evolutionary scale. Soon after being founded,
the Lisbon Geographical Society presented a petition to the government for a scientific
expedition to the colonies that was to gather knowl-edge that would allow the country to
do justice to its imperial claims. In 1945 the Board for Geographical Missions and
Colonial Investigations published a report entitled The Scientific Occupation of
Portuguese Overseas Territories, in which it argued for more resources to be invested on
research of this type (Junta das Missões Geográficas 1945). More than fifty years had
passed between the first and second plea, and yet the content was the same.
The reason for this was that, in spite of the perceived need to do something, Portugal’s
political course for much of the relevant historical period was highly unstable. One
practical suggestion made by the Lisbon Geographical Society was for the creation of a
school for training colonial officials. As with most other policy recommendations in
Portugal, this lay dormant for nearly a quarter of a century. Having recognized the role of
anthropological knowledge for the colonial enterprise, the authorities developed a sort of
relationship with anthropologists. Indeed, through the agency of Mendes Corrêa (who,
along with António de Almeida and Rodrigues Santos Junior, was part of the famous
Oporto School), the ministry of the colonies funded anthropological research (see Pereira
1989, 68). This was mainly in the area of physical anthropology and dealt with issues
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such as the size of the African cranium, the reaction times of Africans, and the physical
build of Africans. While meeting some of the concerns of the colonial authorities, the
interest in physical anthropology was more dominant within the ranks of anthropologists
themselves. The change of emphasis from physical to cultural anthropology came much
later with Jorge Dias, a Portuguese language teacher in several European universities,
who had completed a doctorate in folklore studies at the University of Munich. Dias was
invited by Mendes Corrêa to lead a research group that was expected to carry out an
ethnographic and ethnosociological survey of the country. His marked interest in cultural,
as opposed to physical, anthropology led Dias to finally introduce an ethnographic
section within the Portuguese Anthropological and Ethnological Society (see Pereira
1989).
As far as the society was concerned, there were three major ways in which it mediated
between anthropology and colonialism. The first was through scientific expeditions to the
colonies. These were major undertakings involving not only anthropologists, but also
(and mainly) geographers, cartographers, oceanographers, and natural scientists from a
whole range of disciplines. In 1936 and 1937–8, two anthropological missions led by
Rodrigues Santos Júnior, an anthropologist, were sent to Mozambique, where they mostly
collected archaeological material that was complemented by a few kinship studies and
observations of burial rituals. Later, in the 1950s, further missions were sent to GuineaBissau, Angola, and Mozambique under the supervision of Jorge Dias. Chief among the
objectives of this later mission was an attempt to find out the reasons behind the budding
nationalism in nearly all the Portuguese colonies, which in Angola, Mozambique, and
Guinea-Bissau soon translated into armed rebellion against the Portuguese.
These anthropological missions were significant in two important ways. First of all,
they bore testimony to a closer cooperation between academic anthropology and the
colonial authorities. This had been made possible by institutional developments within
the colonial bureaucracy with the creation, in 1954, of a research unit on colonial
ethnology at the Center for Political and Social Studies in Lisbon. Jorge Dias, who had
been teaching cultural anthropology at the Center, seems to have aroused colonial
officials’ interest in the role that cultural anthropology could play in furthering the goals
of colonial administration. Indeed, most dissertations written by final year students were
social-anthropological monographs with a heavy functionalist bias that reflected Dias’s
own analytical inclinations and were consistent with the colonial concern of reinventing
traditional African society.
Secondly, this cooperation signalled a paradigm shift within Portuguese anthropology
itself, which up until then had seen its contribution toward the colonial enterprise more in
terms of physical anthropological. The emphasis on cultural factors reflected the growing
importance that cultural anthropologists had acquired since Jorge Dias had introduced an
ethnological section into the Portuguese Ethnological and Anthropological Society in
1949.
Whereas physical anthropological research had emphasized an interest in the physical
features of subject peoples, which often translated in the presentation of actual people as
exhibits in the colonial exhibitions, interest in cultural anthropology focused attention on
native artifacts. Dias’s influence was behind the rise of Makonde art (wood carvings),
Tchokwe ritual artifacts, and, to some extent, Tchopi music (xylophone). These were
increasingly seen as manifestations of a vibrant cultural life, which Portugal had the
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obligation to mold to its cultural understanding. Eduardo Mondlane, a nationalist leader
in Mozambique, wrote that Makonde artists resisted Portuguese orders to carve the
Madonna by placing a monkey instead of a baby in her lap (Mondlane 1970).
The second way in which anthropology sought influence before the colonial
authorities was through the so-called colonial congresses. These were major events
organized both by the society and the overseas ministry in Portugal itself, and in which
the problems of the colonies were discussed and their natural, human, and cultural
resources were exhibited. There were four such colonial congresses, solemn occasions
during which physical, social, and cultural anthropologists were given the opportunity to
produce scientific facts in support of their relevance to the colonial enterprise.
Finally, anthropologists were also given the chance to participate in the training of
colonial officials. At the founding of the Geographical Society of Lisbon, one of the
suggestions made by its founders was to set up a school for the preparation of colonial
officials. This suggestion met with the suspicion of the government department in charge
of overseas affairs at the time, which set up its own geographical commission to look into
such matters. With the normalization of relations toward the end of the century, the
Geographical Society, with financial assistance from the government, set up a school for
the preparation of traders and settlers for their encounter with African reality in 1906. In
1927 this school became the Colonial High School, where from 1946 onwards courses in
“advanced colonial studies” were administered to colonial officials. While academic
anthropologists did not play a very important role in the design of the syllabus of these
courses, their expertise was very much in demand, for the main drive in the content of the
courses was toward understanding African society within the framework established by
the regulation of labor, which saw African society in primordialist terms and sought to
reconstruct it along those lines. Most of the final projects produced by those attending
these courses dealt with matters dear to social anthropology at the time, and they reveal a
concern with the reconstruction of the exotic side of African life from the Portuguese
perspective of the time.
Folklore in Portuguese-Speaking Africa
The development of folklore in Portuguese-speaking Africa is intimately connected to
developments in Portugal. As suggested above, interest in the symbolic and material
culture of subject African societies was a direct result not only of the assertion of a
Portuguese identity, but also of the country’s need to make the best use of its colonies.
This instrumental interest led to an emphasis on those aspects of African culture that
could deliver insights to help render these societies amenable to Portuguese control. One
reason behind the second ethnographic mission to Africa, for example, was the collection
of empirical material that could help the authorities come to terms with budding
nationalist feelings in those countries.
Throughout the colonial period, the colonial authorities remained the major producers
of accounts of the symbolic and material culture of African society. Colonial
administrators, amateur anthropologists, and professionally trained anthropologists
produced a considerable number of monographs on various aspects of African folklore.
These ranged from mores and customs, food, farming techniques, and language to
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warfare techniques, dress, religion, and oral literature. Missionaries of both Catholic and
Protestant persuasion were also very instrumental in registering African folklore. In
Mozambique the best known missionary-anthropologist was Henri-Alexandre Junod,
whose account of the life of the Tsonga of southern Africa provided considerable
material to Sir James George Frazer’s Golden Bough and remains the richest
ethnographic account ever written on any African community in Portuguese-speaking
Africa.
It has been claimed that Portuguese colonialism was “softer” than that of the British or
French, in as much as it ignored racial boundaries and sought to adapt to the tropical
environment. This was the central theme in the notion of “Lusotropicalism” put forth by
the Brazillian Gilberto Freire. Several authors have disputed this by showing, for
example, that the proportion of mixed-race offspring was much higher in South Africa
than in the Portuguese African colonies. Portugal may have believed it was practising a
softer form of colonial rule because it was genuinely convinced that it had a mission in
Africa. This meant that there was a much more overt attempt to integrate Africans into an
all-encompassing notion of Portuguese culture. This culture did not make room for
African culture in its own right. Makonde art and Tchokwe ritual artifacts were not
symbols of this all-encompassing culture, but rather symbols of subject cultures. The real
colonial culture, the one that was also presented at colonial exhibitions in Portugal, was
the culture of Portuguese settlers abroad.
The context within which interest in African symbolic and material culture arose has
had an impact on the general perception of folklore in these countries. At the time of
independence in the mid-1970s, for example, there was a general mistrust toward
anthropology. In Angola and Mozambique, where the ideological orientation towards
Marxism was much more pronounced, this mistrust translated into more importance
being attached to history, for example. In both countries, history came to fulfill the
function of anthropology. This served two purposes. On the one hand, history was
expected to provide historical legitimacy to the new nations by constructing an
ideologically correct past. On the other hand, this ideologically correct past was to be the
basis upon which a sense of nationhood would be instilled in the postcolonial period.
Generally speaking, the arts have reflected this ambivalence. Twentieth-century
writers and artists such as Pepetela, Bonga, Castro Soromenho, and Rui Mingas from
Angola, and José Craveirinha, Mia Couto, Luís Bernardo Honwana, and Malangatana
from Mozambique drew their inspiration from their respective cultures, but they also
sought to express a national culture. In their novels Pepetela and Mia Couto (both
Africans with European ancestors) articulate this ambivalence in a very forceful, yet
beautiful, manner. Both seek to write in a style that is closer to the way the average
person on the street perceives the world around him. To this end, they rely on a language
style that is neither Portuguese nor broken Portuguese, achieving thereby a highly
effective aesthetic effect. In the process, however, what they produce is not a revelation
of native culture, but rather something purporting to be a national culture. Mia Couto has
been unjustly accused of misrepresenting Mozambican culture (Muianga 1991), but this
only shows how difficult it is to represent culture in the aftermath of colonial rule.
As a general rule, folklore research in the period after independence was politically
motivated. In Mozambique, Angola, and Guinea-Bissau, the description of the material
and symbolic culture was constrained by the need to provide arguments for national
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716
unity. Only those aspects which could be used in the nation-building effort were
emphasised, much like the way in which Portugal, a century earlier, had “nationalized”
its own people. From 1975 to the early 1990s, there were hardly any monographs on
individual ethnic groups. With the exception of work carried out by foreign researchers
(Lerma et al. 1989; Geffray 2000), no attempt was made to continue the tradition set by
the colonial authorities (see, for example, Oliveira 1978; Parsons et al. 1968; Reis 1969).
One honorable exception is the work of Rui Duarte de Carvalho, an Angolan
anthropologist, who has been studying the way of life of the pastoral community of
Kuvale (Carvalho 2000). São Tomé and Príncipe and Cape Verde are exceptions to this.
Their main concern in the period after independence has been less to stave off the spectre
of tribalism, but rather to bring diverse former slave and forced-labor communities under
the same national umbrella.
The political changes that took place in Africa at the end of the eighties have led to a
reassessment of the role of folklore in these societies. In Mozambique and Angola,
anthropology has been introduced as an academic discipline in the universities. In all of
these countries there is an increasing reliance on anthropology within the area of official
policy formulation. In the area of government reform, in particular, anthropologists have
been playing a major role in advising governments on culturally appropriate forms of
political participation. Development agencies rely on anthropological knowledge for an
appreciation of the sociocultural dimensions of their interventions. While these
developments are controversial, they at least illustrate a reassessment of the role of
folklore studies, a reassessment essential to the development of the discipline.
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estudo de caso. 1, no. 2:237–257.
Ataíde, Alfredo. 1934a. Tempos de reacção de indígenas das colónias portuguesas. In Trabalhos do
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Aurillac, M. 1964. Les provinces portugaises d’outre-mer ou la “force des choses.” In Revue
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Braga, Teófilo. 1985. O povo português nos seus costumes, crenças e tradições. Lisbon:
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Branco, Jorge Freitas. 1999. A fluidez dos limites: discurso etnográfico e movimento folclórico em
Portugal. Etnográfica 3, no. 1:23–48.
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vários. Lisbon: A Regra do Jogo.
Carvalho, Rui Duarte de. 2000. Vou lá visitar pastores: explicate epistolar de um percurso
angolano em território Kuvale (1992–1997), 2d ed. Lisbon: Cotovia.
Cordeiro, Luciano. 1980. Questões Coloniais. Lisbon: Editorial Vega.
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——. 1964a. Portuguese Contribution to Cultural Anthropology. Johannesburg: University of
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——. 1964b. Os Macondes de Mozambique. Vol. 1, aspectos históricos e económicos. Lisbon:
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——. 1964c. Os Macondes de Mozambique. Vol. 2, Cultura Material. Lisbon: Agência Geral das
Colónias.
Dias, Jorge, and Margot Dias. 1964. Os Macondes de Mozambique. Vol. 3, Vida Social e Ritual.
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Dias, Jorge, and M.V.Guerreiro. 1959. Relatório da Campanha de 1958 (Mozambique e Angola).
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Ultramar Português.
Dias, Jorge, M.V.Guerreiro, and M.Dias. 1961. Relatório da Campanha de 1960 (Mozambique e
Angola). Lisbon: Missão de Estudos das Minorias Étnicas do Ultramar Português.
Duffy, J. 1959. Portuguese Africa. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press.
Gallo, Donato. 1988. O saber Português—antropologia e colonialismo. Lisbon: Heptágono.
Geffray, Christian. 2000. Nem pai nem mãe—crítica do parentesco: o caso macua; Lisbon:
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Gómez, Luis Ángel Sánchez. 1999. Cien anos de antroplogías en Espana y Portugal. Etnográfica 3,
no. 1.
Harries, Patrick. 1981. The Anthropologist As Historian and Liberal: H.A.Junod and the Thonga.
Journal of Southern African Studies 8, no. 1:37–50.
Junod, Henri-Alexandre. 1913. The Life of a South African Tribe. 2 Vols. Neuchatel, Switzerland:
Attinger Fréres.
Junta das Missões Geográficas e de Investigações Coloniais. 1945. Ocupação Científica do
Ultramar Português. Lisbon: Agência Geral das Colónias.
Leclerc, Gerard. 1972. Anthropologie et colonialisme—essai sur l’histoire de l’africanisme. Paris:
Fayard.
Liesegang, G. 1967. Beiträge zur geschichte des reiches der gaza nguni im südlichen Mozambique
1820–1895. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Cologne.
Mendes Corrêa, A. 1954. Antropologia e História. Porto: Instituto de Antropologia do Porto.
Mondlane, Eduardo. 1970. The Struggle for Mozambique. Harmmondsworth, England: Penguin.
Muianga, A. 1991. Literatura e Moçambicanidade. Lisbon: CIDAC.
Munido, F.F.O. 1949. La Orientacion etnologica en ele proyecto definitivo de codigo penal para
indigenas de Mozambique. Cuadernos de Estudios Africanos 6:9–34.
Oliveira, Fernando de. 1978. Contos populares de Angola—folclore quibumdo. Porto: Nova
Crítica.
Parsons, Elsie Clews, et al. 1968. Folclore do arquipélago de Cabo Verde. Lisbon: Agência Geral
do Ultramar.
Pereira, Rui. 1989. A questão colonial na etnologia ultramarina. Antropologia Portuguesa. 7:61–
78.
Pina, Luís. 1931. Materials para a antropologia de Moçambique. Arquivo Anatómico e
Antropológico de Mozambique 14:114–125.
Pires de Lima, J.A., and Constáncio Mascarenhas. 1926. Contribuição para o Estudo Antropológico
de Moçambique. Arquivo de Anatomia e Antropologia. 10:699–716.
Reis, Fernando. 1969. Pôvô Flogá o povo brinca: Folclore de São Tomé. São Tomé: Camara
Municipal.
Santos Junior, J.R. 1947. Alguns Aspectos da 4. Campanha da Missão Antropólogica de
Moçambique. Boletim da Sociedade Portuguesa de Ciências Naturais 15:128–151.
Silva Cunha, J.M. 1952. O sistema português de política indígena—princípios gerais. Lisbon:
Agência Geral do Ultramar.
ELÍSIO MACAMO
See also French Study of African Folklore; Government Policies toward Folklore
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PRAISE POETRY: SOUTHERN
AFRICAN PRAISE POETRY
Since praise poetry is historically an oral genre, it remained unwritten until the arrival of
missionaries and colonial settlers. It is for this reason that, as attested to by records left by
these people in former British colonies, the praises of those native peoples who came into
contact with the West first have the longest and most varied historiography.
Despite this relatively new written form, designed for study by both scholars and
amateurs, praise poetry is primarily an oral art that remains inextricably tied to
performance. It is an art that is actualized in performative creation. The written version
lacks, and cannot capture, the extralinguistic aspects of performance, such as gestures, the
intricate interplay between performer and audience, and the general, elusive ambience of
the occasion (the spirit of place). The link between the emergence of the written form and
the arrival of settlers has been remarked on by many who have studied the praises of the
Nguni group, especially those of the Zulu and Xhosa. The history of the collection and
analysis of various types of this genre stretches from the first half of the nineteenth
century to the late twentieth century when new research perspectives and analytical
paradigms galvanized scholars into forging pride of place for the discipline among other
pursuits in academia, both in South Africa and elsewhere on the continent.
Many studies of Zulu and Xhosa praises have been published over the years, the most
recent being by Liz Gunner and Ma Fika Gwala (1991) for Zulu, and by Jeff Opland
(1983) for Xhosa. The Ngoni of Malawi and the Ndebele of Zimbabwe are offshoots of
the Zulu. The praises of the latter have been studied by Alfred Mtenje and Boston Soko
(1998), by Moyo (1978) for Ngoni, and by Caleb Dube (1988) and Temba Nkabinde
(1990) for Ndebele. Isaac Schapera’s (1965), Sam Guma’s (1967), and Daniel Kunene’s
(1971) works on the praises of the Sotho-Tswana group remain classics even today. The
best-known works on the praises of the Shona group are those by Aaron Hodza and
George Fortune (1979), and Alec Pongweni (1996).
The Nature and Functions of Praise Poetry
Praise poetry has several subgenres. While all the groups have clan praise poems as well
as those for the chiefs, the Nguni and Sotho-Tswana have personal ones composed either
by an individual for himself or herself, or for a peer. This includes praises for both
civilians and war heroes. They also have praises for their domestic and wild animals, to
which the Sotho-Tswana add those of divining bones. Particularly among the Nguni and
Sotho Tswana, praise poetry is not to be viewed as consisting only of “ossified texts”
composed long ago, but also as a contemporary and vibrant oral art form that is readily
responsive to current sociopolitical developments.
This contemporaneity of the genre is the reason for its adaptability and symbiotic
relationship with other oral art forms, so that there is constant multidirectional
“borrowing” between it and these others, but especially between it and contemporary
African music. For example, the songs of Zimbabwean liberation war choirs of the 1970s
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incorporate praises of Nehanda, Kaguvi, and Chaminuka, heroes of the nineteenthcentury liberation struggle, and those of contemporary leaders Mugabe, Chitepo,
Takawira, and Nkomo. These praises are in contrast with those directed derisively to
leaders who were cooperating with the colonial system, namely Chirau, Muzorewa, and
Sithole. Among the Nguni, Gunner and Gwala report that modern acculturated township
music incorporates the famous war leader Shaka’s praises.
In view of the double-edged character of the genre, the term praise is misleading,
especially when applied to compositions for the powerful: the praise singer does praise,
but he or she also pillories the subject if the latter is guilty of misconduct. Thus, a
notoriously licentious Chief of the Bomvana clan was “praised” with the lines: “Below
the rocks it is very dreadful to behold/ For there are the handsome and their concubines,”
(Jordan, 26). Further, the colonial power was not spared by the poet Mqhayi when the
Prince of Wales visited the Zulu in 1925: “Ah! Britain! Great Britain! She sent us the
Bible, and the barrels of brandy; She sent us the breechloader, she sent us the cannon; 0,
Roaring Britain! Which must we embrace?” (Jordan, 27). Vail and White observe that
among the Ndebele of Zimbabwe, the praises of their ancestors Mzilikazi and Lobengula
discriminated between the two on the basis of the sociopolitical legacies which each left
his descendants. The first was a warrior who “had raised himself from nothing” when he
led his people away from the hostile Shaka and across the Limpopo River into present
day Zimbabwe, managing to establish an empire. Lobengula, on the other hand,
compromised that empire in his dealings with the settlers. So Mzilikazi is “the bush buck
that strikes carefully on the rocks,” while Lobengula is “the bush buck that strikes with
hooves and damages the stones” (White and Vail, 1984, 55–56). Mzilikazi managed to
maintain his empire’s independence through skillful diplomacy, and without provoking
confrontations with the white settlers, while Lobengula exposed it to their superior
firepower and they vanquished him. The Ngoni of Malawi, nineteenth-century migrants
from Zululand, have acculturated praises for their founding father: “He ate the people
along the Zambezi/King Zwaryendaba, who beat the waters of the Zambezi with a short
staff/And the waters parted” (Mtenje and Soko, 1998).
Praise and criticism in this poetry points to the traditional Bantu people’s preference
for conformity over deviance in the conduct of both ordinary folk and their leaders. This
emphasis on the golden mean is echoed in the proverbial lore, where aphorisms that urge
apparently opposite courses of action are to be found. For example, in a parallel to the
English proverb “Many hands make light work,” the Shona have the saying, “One finger
cannot crush a louse,” which urges cooperation. But they also have one that says, “To
benefit from other people’s wisdom, you must have some of your own,” which
encourages individualism.
Clan Praises
Just as the poems of rulers accord individuals both the praises and the criticisms due
them, so do those of the clans and ordinary people. The praises of the clans serve to
remind members of who they are, where they came from, the vicissitudes of their lives,
how they overcame challenges to their existence, and so on. The poems are thus
biographical sketches as well as being a means of portraying the subject’s self-image. In
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all instances, the heroism of both individuals and the clan as a whole are praised, just as
their antisocial conduct is pilloried. The language used is laconic and full of archaisms,
ambiguities, and hyperbole. The Lion clans of Zimbabwe have a line in their poem that
praises them as “Those who do not subsist on plunder.” Yet their history shows that they
once behaved like their totemic animal, regularly going on cattle-raiding forays for selfaggrandizement. The “praise” line is thus to be read as “Those who should NOT subsist
on plunder,” because their old ways led to their being banished from their original home
after their founding father had been executed. This latter catastrophe is referred to only in
the line, “Those who scattered when the father died.” Further, Chief Mpangazitha of the
Hlubi clan was praised as “the wielder of the brain-weighted club” (Jordan, 24–25). Was
his club covered by the brains of the enemy whose skulls he crushed in battle, or was he a
brilliant military strategist?
The Ovambunderu of Botswana are cousins of those in Namibia, having been
dispersed from there by the colonial German war machine in the nineteenth century. Even
today the two groups hold an annual festival to commemorate their survival and to
celebrate the value of peace. Their black, green, and white flag is the symbol around
which they rally as they sing its praises: “It came on feet; It has gone through the
taste/test of time; It is a tree on fertile soil; Cultural richness is its fruit; Every generation
flocks to one.”
While the clan praise poem found in some of the other southern African groups is
derived from certain commendable characteristics of the totemic animal, it also
incorporates those that would be unacceptable if literally transposed from the animal
kingdom to human society. There is no biological connection between the animal and the
clan. Claude Levi-Strauss says “totemic origins are applications, projections or
dissociations; they consist of metaphorical relations the analysis of which belongs to an
ethno-logic rather than an ethno-biology” (1963, 31). Thus, while the poem serves to
“place” the subject of praise by references to his clan’s history, it binds him to follow in
the footsteps of the ancestors in the philosophy that guides his dealings with other people.
Praise is meant as criticism when it is sung for one who clearly is not behaving in ways
that earned his ancestors that accolade in the first place. The subject of praise must
therefore dissociate himself from the deviant ways of the totemic animal.
The Nguni generally do not have animal totems. The exceptions are some Swazis,
such as the Fakudze, who are of the Baboon totem. The baboon is believed to have
originated from them. Instead of weeding their crop fields, the Fakudze sat on their hoes
until the handles grew onto their hind-parts, and long hair began to cover their bodies.
The indolence which this myth implies is reflected in the poem of the Baboon clans of
Zimbabwe, who are sarcastically praised thus: “They who subsist on stolen food; They
who eat what others have cultivated; They who boast, ‘we sit on cattle melons: While we
eat pumpkins; As for watermelons, we carry under the armpit like everyone else: Corn
we just munch. With cucumbers on our mouths, We remove the sugarcane bark’” (Hodza
1985, 7 my translation). This poem also says that the members of this clan must distance
themselves from the behavior of their totemic animal.
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San Praises
San oral forms focus on the activities of their ancestors, who are closely linked to animals
since, as Duncan Brown notes, in San cosmology all animals were once people. One such
text is the story “The Jackal and the Hyena.” Brown says this story is partly etiological
since it is used to “explain” why the hyena’s rear end is small. The Jackal cheats the
Hyena out of the meat of an animal which the latter had killed, using a trick that results in
the Hyena falling from the roof of a hut (where the Jackal had placed the meat) because
the rope the Jackal gave the Hyena to use for climbing is so weak that it snaps. The story
is about the ownership of a kill. In order for the San to survive, there was a need to ensure
that a carcass was fairly distributed. The San thus have a custom designed to maintain
human life. The story portrays the Jackal’s legendary trickery and selfishness so that he
emerges as the villain of the piece. In another story, however, the Jackal comes out as a
hero. In “The Jackal and the Lion” he loses his meat to the marauding lion, but manages
to kill it “with the help of a sorceress and his own cunning” (Brown 1998, 61). This
exploit restores peace and the “people” live life to the full.
By portraying the same character in one instance as a villain and in another as a hero,
these two stories are thematically parallel to the praise poem in its combination of praise
and criticism of its subject. Whatever the jackal may have represented in precolonial
times, the antisocial conduct has come to be associated with the way that the colonizer
dislocated Bushman society economically, politically, and culturally. Indeed, because the
story of the Jackal and the Lion expresses a yearning for peace and restitution, it “may
stand as an early exemplar of what has come to be our national narrative: colonial
intrusion; dispossession; and the brutal destruction of whole societies,” (Brown 1998,
62). These stories begin with formulaic expressions such as “Mama/ Father used to tell
me…” which are parallel to those used by the Shona when they quote a proverb to warn
someone against acting unwisely. Such formulas lend authority to what follows them for
they represent wisdom handed down through the generations, and are thus not to be taken
lightly.
Being an egalitarian, hunter-gatherer society, the San traditionally had much time to
devote to artistic creation: including engraving, making necklaces and beads, dancing,
singing songs, and storytelling. Their egalitarianism, which contrasts with the
stratification found in the other communities in the region, prevented “the emergence of a
literary elite comprised of individuals specifically recognized and rewarded for their
talents” (Brown 1998, 48). This is reflected in the performance of their songs, which
address religious themes and personal experiences. Those on religion and medicine are
believed to come from god. The performance of songs takes place at trance dances, with
women clapping and singing while the men dance in order to enter a state of trance.
Although San stories do contain metaphors, trance songs make extensive use of them for
both aesthetic purposes and for expressing social and personal concerns. An example is
the /Xam San //Kabbo’s song, in which the loss of his tobacco pouch causes him
“famine.”
Another important feature of San oral forms is their repetitiveness. The “Mama/Father
used to tell me” formula is strategically placed in performance. This way, as Brown
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states, the performer “could have lent rhythm to his delivery, thus creating an anticipatory
structure into which his listeners could then have fitted each new section to ensure
coherence, even if a line or two had escaped them” (Brown 1998, 65–66). Repetition also
gives these forms the circularity that is commonly found in the oral forms of the other
groups in the region. It has a wider philosophical significance in that it can be viewed as
one way in which the San are saying “even the seasons turn-turn”—things will come full
circle. That is to say, their conquerors will one day have to account for their dislocation
of San society.
Some of those who have studied the foregoing types and functions of praise poetry
have not paid much attention to the others, which some would say, are even more
important, particularly those for the ordinary individual. Even private people achieve,
suffer setbacks, and have hopes and ambitions. Further, they yearn to be recognized as
people who occupy space in the scheme of things. This poetry thus has an
autobiographical function. The very adaptability of praise poetry allows such persons to
compose or to have others compose poems in their praise. There are thus both official
public praises and private individual ones. Once a praise has been given to the individual,
it sticks such that the subject has no control over its use. It survives the subject’s physical
death and may be inherited by his or her offspring, thereby serving as an instrument of
social control for the latter.
Praises for the Young and for Women
Among the Sotho-Tswana there are praises composed for and by graduates of the
initiation school, the ritual after which the young are admitted into adulthood. These
youngsters adopt new praise names, both coined and borrowed from traditional heroes
and chiefs. The source of inspiration may be the individual’s difficult childhood, or it
could be the initiates’ view of themselves as the custodians of cultural values, which their
peers who have become Christians have abandoned. So their praises will incorporate
lines that pillory the modernists. There are also praises for women, such as one recently
recorded in Lesotho, that praises the woman for the munificence of her heart: “Her back
is wide enough to take those who are lonely; She collects all those who have lost hope,
Elders and orphans.” She is also praised for her beauty: “Her beauty cannot be measured;
As if God had created her on the first day of the week; When people come back from the
weekend with their minds alert. It was not a hurried work” (recorded at my request in
Maseru, Lesotho, by Julia Tsoenyo in 1996). Among the Nguni, women’s praises are
generally confined to the mundane concerns of daily survival, avoiding the robust and
violent epithets that men earn in war. They are about economic progress and hardships,
the imprisonment of loved ones in distant jails, and so on.
Among the Shona there are praises for young men and women. Because they have not
crossed the rite of passage into marriage, they have not lived long enough to deserve clan
praise for whatever commendable deeds they may perform. So they are praised by the
recitation of their totem, which is theirs by virtue of having been born into a particular
family, and not by the praise poem.
These contrast with those praises for the traditional Shona woman, which are recited
for her only when she demonstrates her knowledge of how to reciprocate her husband’s
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advances in the consummation of their marriage. He in turn must know his wife’s praise
poem appropriate for the occasion. Outside this context, the woman is praised for her
commendable deeds by her husband’s praise name.
References
Brown, Duncan. 1998. Voicing the Text: South African Oral Poetry and Performance. Oxford:
Oxford University Press.
Dube, Caleb. 1988. “Ndebele Oral Art: Its Development within the Historico-socio-economic
Context.” M.Phil thesis. University of Zimbabwe.
Guma, S.M. 1967. The Form, Content, and Technique of Traditional Literature in Southern Sotho.
Pretoria: J.L.vam Schaik.
Gunner, L, and M.Gwala. 1991. Musho! Zulu Popular Praises. East Lansing: Michigan State
University Press.
Hodza, Aaron. 1985. Mitupo Zvidawo Zvamadzinza. Harare: Longman Zimbabwe.
Hodza, A.C., and G.Fortune. 1979. Shona Praise Poetry. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Jordan, A.C. 1973. Towards an African Literature: The Emergence of Literary Form in Xhosa.
Berkeley: University of California Press.
Kunene, D.P. 1971. Heroic Poetry of the Basotho. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Levi-Strauss, Claude. 1968. Totemism. Tr. R.Needham. Boston: Beacon Press.
Moyo, S. 1978. A Linguo-Aesthetic Study of Ngoni Poetry. Madison, University of Wisconsin.
Mtenje, A, and B.Soko. 1998. Oral Traditions among the Northern Malawi Ngoni. Journal of
Humanities 12:1–18.
Nkabinde, Temba. 1990. Modern Ndebele Poetry: Characteristics and Development. M.Phil, thesis.
University of Zimbabwe.
Opland, Jeff. 1983. Xhosa Oral Poetry: Aspects of a Black South African Tradition. Cambridge,
England: Cambridge University Press.
Pongweni, A. 1996. Shona Praise Poetry as Role Negotiation: The Battles of the Clans and the
Sexes. Gweru, Zimbabwe: Mambo Press.
Rycroft, D. 1976. Southern Bantu Clan-Praises: A Neglected Genre. Bulletin of the School of
Oriental and African Studies (University of London) 39, no. 1:155–159.
Schapera, Isaac, ed. 1965. Praise Poems of Tswana Chief. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Vail, L, and L.White. 1984. The Art of Being Ruled: Ndebele Praise-Poetry, 1835–1971. Literature
and Society in Southern Africa. Ed. L.White and T.Couzens. Cape Town, South Africa:
Maskew Miller Longman.
ALEC J.C. PONGWENI
See also Ancestors; Linguistics and African Verbal Arts; Oral Performance and
Literature; Yoruba Oriki (Praise Poetry)
PRAISE POETRY: PRAISE POETRY OF
THE BASOTHO
Located within the borders of the Republic of South Africa, the country of Lesotho is
home to most of the Basotho people. Derived from a Swati nickname (“Abashuntu”),
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Basotho was taken as the name of the new kingdom in the nineteenth century. Sesotho
refers to the language and customs of the Basotho people.
Praise poetry (lithoko) is a type of spoken communication that is dedicated to chiefs
and warriors because of their heroic deeds, especially during a war. It was popular for
relating historical events to an audience in a stylistic manner using a condensed and
captivating poetic language. Praise poetry, often called heroic poetry, is still popular for
celebrating the achievements and other good qualities, of chiefs and outstanding
personalities in the society.
Lithoko is performed by distinguished artists who have proven themselves as talented
poets in the society. Although praise poems of different chiefs are passed from elders to
young men, there are cases of spontaneous production. The artists can recite praise poems
for the chiefs on various occasions, while at the same time adding their own verses. In
some cases, such as when returning from the battlefield, an artist could produce praise
poetry based on the outcome of the war. During the performance the artist makes himself
audible, while the audience listens attentively to the message communicated. The artist
moves to and fro in a dramatic manner displaying his devotion and talent. Today, with
the availability of technology, movements are restricted because the artists use
microphones, which generally confine them to one place.
Unlike written poetry, it is difficult to pin down the form or structure of praise poetry.
In general, the praise poem has an introduction, a body, and a conclusion. The
introduction, in some cases, is a conventional opening that introduces the person to be
praised, either by name or associating him with his relatives. The introduction may also
employ metaphors that call for the audience’s attention. The body of the poem relates to
various events that the artist wishes to emphasize when praising the hero. The conclusion
is marked by a traditional closure formula, which signifies that the artist has come to an
end of the praises. Different aspects of form in praise poetry, particularly stylistic forms
such as parallelism and stanzas, are easily understood when it is written.
As indicated earlier, the content will refer to events or subject matter that the artist
wants to put forward to the audience. After the great wars, the artists adopted a stylized
formula in order to summarize the events. Initially, the preparation undertaken by the
army is described, then the setting out for the battlefield, followed by episodes of the war.
In addition, poems may refer to the following: the birth of the chief, his upbringing, his
administration, the places under his ward, his physical appearance, the problems he
encountered in life, his relatives, his achievements, and his good qualities. The contents
are worded in a dramatic and patriotic manner that calls for unity, as well as submission
to and love for the chief. The praise poet is an important public figure whose major role is
to enhance stability and a peaceful atmosphere in society. The contents of his praises are,
sometimes, about the social, economic, and political issues of the society.
The following praises are examples of praise poems based on war events.
1. Tlali e nts’o ea habo Seeiso
Ea chesa Maseru tsatsi le rapame.
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Translation:
The Black Lightning of the house of Seeiso
Burnt Maseru in the late afternoon.
2. Semamarela sa Mohato, Lekena.
S emamarela—batho,
Semamarela batho ba ha sepiriti!
O tlang batho ka nare ea lithebe
Mekoetla e ba fahle.
Koena ea sheba ka har’a boliba,
Ea sheba ka mahlo a mafubelu,
Bashanyana ba makhooa ba oela!
Translation:
The Gripper of Mohato, Lekena.
The Gripper on the people,
Gripper on the people of Sprigg!
Strike people by means of buffalo shields
That the white class dust should blind them.
The Crocodile looked into the deep pool,
It looked with eyes that were red.
And the European boys fell in!
The following example illustrates praises concerning the physical appreciation of the
hero.
3. Naleli e ts’oeu-ts’oeu ea Ramatheola.
E ts’oeu—ts’oeu ea Ramakhoba
O mosehla moshemane oa Ts’akajoe,
O bosehla, o ts’oana le lehlabathe,
Ka bosoeu o ts’oana le linaleli,
Bongata ba na ba hana boa latola,
Bo re o ts’oana le mafube hantle.
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Translation:
The White-Shining Star of Ramatheol.
The white-shining of Ramakhobalo,
He is yellow-coloured, the son of Ts’akajoe,
His yellow colour resembles the sand,
His whiteness resembles that of the stars.
The majority refuse and dispute
They say he is identical with the dawn.
The language of praise poems is different from everyday language. It is condensed,
economic, and has a special flavor that arouses the interest of the audience. It inspires and
stimulates audience attention because it is full of poetic devices. Basotho praise poems
are known for employing eulogies, repetition, and archaic language. The most common
devices are metaphorical, where chiefs are identified with a variety of animals, plants,
objects, or any other natural phenomenon. This likening of human beings to nonhuman
objects such as natural phenomenon is considered to be a justification of the character of
the person praised. Praise poetry is said to be public speeches in stylized form, and
because of the powerful nature of its language, it is highly appreciated by the Basotho.
The following praises demonstrate the use of metaphorical references to physical
characteristics and natural phenomena.
1. Makatolle oa khoro li katiloe
A katolla khoro li katiloe,
li bile li bateloa, li etsoa bothata,
Ho thoe ho koaloa ka Baroanvana,
Ho koaloa ka Baroana ba Chere.
Translation:
Unblocker of gates that are blocked.
That were secure and hard to penetrate.
In vain they were blocked with the Little-Sans,
They have been blocked with the Little-Sans of Chere.
2. Tsukulu ea Lekena, Lehlaba ts’oana,
Sebata sa rora meroro se ts’abeha,
Tau ea rora e ba bona haufi.
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Translation:
The Rinocerous of Lekena, Lehlabats’ooana,
The Wild beast roared roarings because it is fearful,
The Lion roared, seeing them near.
References
Damane, M., and Sanders, P.B. 1974. Lithoko Sotho Praise Poems. London: Oxford University
Press.
Finnegan, Ruth. 1976. Oral Literature in Africa. Nairobi: Oxford University Press.
Guma, S.M. 1967. The Form, Content, and Technique of Traditional Literature in Southern Sotho.
Pretoria: J.L.Van Schalk.
Kunene, D.P. 1971. Heroic Poetry of the Basotho. London: Clarendon.
Mangoaela, Z.A. 1981. Lithoko tsa Marena a Basotho. Morija Sesuto Book Depot.
Okpewho, Isidore. 1992. African Oral Literature, 3d ed. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
MAKALI I.MOKITIMI
See also Animals in African Folklore; Linguistics and African Verbal Arts;
Performance in Africa
PRAISE POETRY: PRAISE POETRY OF
THE XHOSA
Traditions of oral poetry were well-established among the Xhosa-speaking peoples who
inhabited the coastal seaboard of southeastern South Africa at the time of their first
interaction with European settlers late in the eighteenth century. The first references to
Xhosa praise poetry (called izibongo), by Christian missionaries, date from the 1820s.
During the previous two decades the earliest recorded Xhosa poem was composed. The
prophet Ntsikana taught his followers a hymn in praise of Jesus in the traditional form of
poems in praise of rulers. It was transmitted orally by them after his death in 1821, and
first transcribed in 1822 by John Bennie. Bennie set about systematically transcribing the
Xhosa language after his arrival at Tyhume in 1821, and printed this poem for the first
time in December 1823.
Poems may treat animals and familiar objects, but essentially they concern people and
their social and political affairs. They are composed by individuals about themselves or
their associates, commemorating physical qualities, character traits, and deeds. Men,
women, and children are all potentially composers of these izibongo, which contain
praise references coined by themselves or by others. The poems may be added to in the
course of a lifetime, but they tend to verbalize stability. A son may therefore learn the
izibongo of his father and grandfather, which he will use as ritual invocations (izinqulo)
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of his ancestors after their deaths. Lineage poems of royal ancestors become the clan
poems (iziduko) known widely throughout the community. All these varieties may be
employed by the reciter to express pride or to exhort or honor the hearer.
Izibongo may include both flattering and unflattering references, usually formulated in
the mode of hyperbole or caricature. The dominant image is the metaphor, frequently
drawn from the animal kingdom. The irreducible core of the line is nominal, either a
personal name or a metaphor (distinguished only by a variation of a prefix). In their
simplest form, clan praises may consist of a list of names in a lineage. Each of these
nominals may be extended into a qualifying phrase, and the qualification may in turn be
extended, producing a recognizable expansible structure of praise names, verses, and
stanzas. Izibongo consist of a concatenation of these “praises” of their subjects. For
example, the izibongo of the nineteenth-century warrier-chief Matanzima includes the
lines:
Conqueror, he hurls a grey rock.
Cannon that thundered in the Mathole,
So cowards fled and entered this land,
So cowards fled in headlong.
Here the core nominals are the personal name “Conqueror” extended to a verse, and the
metaphor “Cannon” extended to a three-line stanza. This mode of poetic expression
exploits the Xhosa naming system, which provides for a variety of alternative names and
nicknames for individuals.
Historically, the common structure of clan and popular izibongo also underlay the
elevated izibongo produced in honor of the chief or dignitaries by the court poet, or
imbongi (pl. iimbongi), who was always a male. The imbongi was attached to the chief’s
court, but seems to have enjoyed a degree of independence from authority that accorded
him the license to criticize the chief with impunity. The imbongi was thus both herald,
cheerleader, and social critic, and he sustained in his poetry the social norm. He praised
achievement but condemned excess, and was loyal not so much to the person of the chief
as to the chieftainship. In confirming the rule of the chief, he was promoting the wellbeing of the polity. In this respect his poetry was essentially political, a function modern
izibongo retains to this day.
The izibongo of the imbongi refers not only to the chief and his ancestors, but also to
the social and political context of the performance. The Xhosa imbongi composes his
poetry spontaneously in performance: as the poet Melikaya Mbutuma put it, “an imbongi
is eyes.” As with all izibongo, the performance is solo, unaccompanied by musical
instruments, and produced in a distinctively gruff voice. Among the poets in the
community, only the imbongi wears an animal skin cloak and hat and carries two spears
or fighting sticks.
Despite the gradual spread of literacy—and the frequently articulated fear that oral
traditions were under threat—the primary collection of izibongo, published in 1906, is
entitled Zemk’inkomo, magwalandini! (Preserve your heritage!). Xhosa iimgongi
continued to operate throughout the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, and they have
flourished in the independent South Africa that has emerged from the apartheid years.
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Worker poets active in the period just prior to independence drew on traditional modes of
expression and performance, and following independence Xhosa iimbongi have
performed publicly at the opening of parliament in praise of President Nelson Mandela,
the British Queen, and the Pope.
References
Brown, Duncan. 1996. South African Oral Performance Poetry of the 1980’s: Mzwakhe Mbuli and
Alfred Qabula. In New Writing from Southern Africa: Authors Who Have Become Prominent
since 1980, ed. Emmanuel Ngara. Cape Town: David Philip.
Mafeje, Archie. 1967. The Role of the Bard in Contemporary African Community, Journal of
African Languages 6:193–223.
Ndawo, H.M. 1939. Ixiduko zama-Hlubi. Lovedale, Colo: Lovedale Press.
Opland, Jeff. 1983. Xhosa Oral Poetry: Aspects of a Black South African Tradition. Cambridge,
England: Cambridge University Press.
——. 1998. Xhosa Poets and Poetry. Cape Town: David Philip.
Rubusana, W.B. 1911. Zemk’inkomo magwalandini. 2d ed. London: Author.
JEFF OPLAND
See also Griots and Griottes, Southern African Oral Traditions
PRAISE POETRY: XHOSA PRAISE POETRY FOR PRESIDENT
MANDELA
South Africa’s presidential inauguration on May 10, 1994, was an impressive occasion. It
took place after years of the infamous apartheid system, which was finally dismantled in
1994. Deliberations between the National Party, under the leadership of former President
F.W.de Klerk, and the African National Congress (ANC) led by President Nelson
Mandela, began in 1990, when Mandela was released from prison. A peaceful settlement
was finally reached in 1994.
It is against this historical backdrop that contemporary Xhosa oral poetry is performed.
The Xhosa are the second largest ethnic group in South Africa, and they live mainly on
the eastern shores of South Africa. They have an extensive body of spoken arts, including
folktales, proverbs, and praise poetry. Over the years, there have been many
performances of poetry praising Nelson Mandela. The poetry performed in honor of him
at his inauguration as president of South Africa is of particular importance.
Dignitaries from all over the world were present in order to witness this momentous
event. Thousands upon thousands of people gathered at the Union Buildings in Pretoria to
take part in the festivities and to see President Mandela taking his presidential oath.
Special places were reserved on the podium for the president’s two iimbongi (oral poets).
Archie Mafeje defines the imbongi (as “[a] praise poet who frequented the chief’s
great place and traveled with him in traditional Nguni society. His distinctive feature is
that he can recite poems without having prepared them beforehand” (1967, 193).
Although this definition may have sufficed in the past, it is no longer accurate. The
presence of an imbongi at occasions such as the presidential inauguration or the opening
of parliament show that the imbongi are no longer simply limited to praising chiefs. They
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have managed to adapt to contemporary political contexts, and thus have remained
relevant and powerful political and social commentators.
Urbanization, the impact of Western education, the formation of the independent
homelands, the changing nature of chieftainship, the emergence of black nationalism, the
struggle for freedom, the release of political prisoners, and more recently, the election
and installation of a new democratic government have all had an effect on the tradition of
praise singing. Despite so many influences, the custom remains an important part of
contemporary culture in South Africa.
This tradition formed an important part of what was called protest literature during the
years of struggle for equality and independence in South Africa. Hence, there are poets
such as Mzwakhe Mbuli, who performs in English and Zulu and uses the tradition of oral
poetry as inspiration for commenting on contemporary events.
One of the poets who performed at Mandela’s inauguration was Zolani Mkiva, a
young man who was then a student at the University of the Western Cape. Both his uncle
and his grandfather are recognized as iimbongi. Mkiva sees himself as “a traditional
praise singer who is dynamic” and his presence at the inauguration is a clear indication of
his growing acceptability among the people of South Africa. At the beginning of 1995 he
returned from a tour of Germany, during which he performed his poems. For many, he
represents a new era that requires a “liberated” oral literature not necessarily subsumed
within the realms of political protest poetry, but which can provide commentary on
national as well as international events as they relate to South Africa. The following is an
extract taken from Mkiva’s lengthy inauguration poem:
Yaghawuk’ imbeleko…
Zghawuk’ i-ankile zentiyo nengcinezelo…
Hlambani intliziyo bantu baseMhlabuhlangene,
Kuba ide yafika imini enkulu.
Ubekiwe ngokusesikweni uMongameli wenene nenvaiso
weli lomdibaniso. Ndithetha goMandela wodumo,
odume ngobulungisa eluntwini…
Kaloku ingcombolo yamathambo, iqala ngoNkosi
Bambatha,
Wazithath’ intambo uBambatha wazinikela
kuLangalibale Dube,
Wazithat’ uDube wazinikela kuNkos’ Luthuli,
UAlbert Luthuli wazinikela kuOliver Reginald Tambo.
Namhlanje singena ebhantini sihamba noMandela,
Inamb’ enkulu ecandi iziziba…
Iqadi likaJongintaba…unyana kaNosekeni…
Ndimvile uFidel Castro—the Commandant General
of the International Cuban Forces esithi:
“Victoire c’est.”
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Watheth’ uYasser Arafat…wathi:
“Solidarity in action and solidarity forever.”
Ndimvile uBoutros Boutros Ghali…esithi:
“L’union c’est la force.”
Waphendula noKanel’ Gadaffi ngelithi:
“Karambanin akuya ta kayi ta kwa.”
Nguye lowo ke uMandela—the living legend and the
international figure.
Translation:
The umbilical cord has snapped…
The anchors of hate and oppression have snapped…
Wash your hearts people of Mhlabuhlangene (united
South Africa),
Because the great day has arrived.
The leader of truth has been placed by custom to lead
this united society.
I am speaking about Mandela, the great one, who is
known for healing society…
Because the process began with Chief Bambatha and
his ancestors,
Chief Bambatha took the reigns and gave them to
Langalibalele Dube,
Dube took these and gave them to Chief Luthuli,
Albert Luthuli gave them to Oliver Reginald Tambo.
Today we are entering the destined area (new South
Africa) together with Mandela,
The powerful one who has crossed many oceans…
From the house of Jongintaba…the son of
Nosekeni…
I have heard Fidel Castro—the Commandant General
of the International Cuban Forces saying:
“Victory is ours.”
Yassar Arafat spoke:
“Solidarity in action and solidarity forever.”
I have heard Boutros Boutros Ghali saying:
“Unity is strength.”
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Colonel Gadaffi answered:
“Honour the people of the world.”
This is Mandela—the living legend and the
international figure.
This poem has an international flavor appropriate to the occasion, but it is also influenced
by Mandela’s credibility in the eyes of the rest of the world. It is a poem encapsulating
the past history of the ANC and its leaders, but it also possesses a contemporaneity which
is interwoven with history to form a complex literary tapestry. It is evident that the poem
is mainly about praise, and that the critical element is reserved for apartheid and those
who upheld it. There is also a strong “unity” theme in the poem. This can be seen as the
beginnings of what could be termed “reconciliation” literature and a movement away
from “protest” literature in South Africa.
It remains to be seen, however, to what extent these oral art forms will be manipulated
or appropriated by those in control of power in South Africa, especially politicians. There
have been attempts by rulers in other African countries to exploit this art form for their
own good, and there is evidence of “the manipulation of oral art for the benefit of the
ruling classes, leading to the domestication and disempowerment of oral art” (Mlama
1991).
Cultural bodies and those guarding freedom of speech in South Africa will have to be
vigilant against this danger if the poet is to remain a critic and mediator. Furthermore,
one can assume that there will be further shifts in power in South African politics in the
future, and it will be interesting to observe how oral poets will fit into the new
dispensation.
It is clear, however, that those who hold power, and the imbongi’s ability to be
innovative as a contemporary sociopolitical commentator (as well as the people in
general, who legitimize power) will continue to influence the tradition of oral poetry,
which remains a context within the wider strategy of power and ideology in South Africa.
References
Kaschula, Russell H. 1991a. The Role of the Xhosa Oral Poet in Contemporary South African
Society. South African Journal of African Languages 11, no. 2:47–54.
——. 1991b. Power and the Poet in Contemporary Transkei. Journal of Contemporary African
Studies 10, no. 2:24–43.
——. 1995. Mandela Comes Home: the Poets’ Perspective. Oral Tradition.
——. 1997. The Interface Between Orality-Literacy With Particular Reference to the Xhosa
Imbongi. Research in African Literatures. 28, no. 1:173–191.
Kaschula, Russell H., and Mandlakayise Matyumza. 1996. Qhiwu-u-ula—Return to the Fold.
Pretoria: Via Afrika.
Mafeje, Archie. 1967. The Role of the Bard in a Contemporary South African Community. Journal
of African Languages. 6:88–89.
Mlama, Penina. 1991. Oral Art and Contemporary Cultural Nationalism. Paper read at an
International Oral Literature conference hosted by the School for Oriental and African Studies,
University of London.
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Opland, Jeff. 1983. Xhosa Oral Poetry. Aspects of a Black South African Tradition. Cambridge,
England: Cambridge University Press.
RUSSELL H.KASCHULA
See also Oral Performance and Literature; Popular Culture; Praise Poetry
PRAISE POETRY: YORUBA ORÍKÌ
Oríkì are attributive epithets or praise poetry that are central in the social, religious, and
political life of the Yorùbá of southwestern Nigeria. They are vocative in address and
namelike in form, disjunctive both in relation to each other and internally, and condensed
and allusive in reference.
A text or performance of oríkì is an assemblage of potentially separate and diverse
units, which can be performed in varying orders and combinations and which are held
together by their common application to a specific subject. Nominalized sentences feature
prominently, and there are ways in which the grammar of ordinary speech can be
extended to yield namelike forms of great length and internal complexity. Long passages
of text can also be attributed to the subject through the use of expressions such as
“O.mo…” (Child of…) or “…ni wo n n pe Lágbájá” (…is what they call so-and-so). The
oríkì are understood to “belong” to the subject—and to have an intimate connection with
the subject’s social and moral being.
All entities, whether human, spiritual, or inanimate, have oríkì. The most elaborated
and culturally valued bodies of oríkì belong to: (1) prominent individuals of the past
(ancestors); (2) towns of origin (orílè) and the large, dispersed kin groups identified by
common membership in them; and (3) the òrìsà (gods).
Every baby is given an oríkì name at birth and will be saluted with the oríkì orílè of its
father’s lineage. These are the most ancient and best known oríkì. They form the bedrock
of social identity and can arouse profound emotions of pride and gratification when
performed. As a person grows up, he or she will gradually acquire more oríkì, reflecting
his or her qualities, characteristics, and actions as they take shape. These personal oríkì
are composed by drummers, professional praise singers, and fellow townspeople. Some
of them may be drawn from a common stock shared by all to whom they are applicable,
such as oríkì praising tall people, generous people, excellent farmers, or medicine men.
Others are idiosyncratic and may commemorate obscure and even shameful or
embarrassing incidents in the person’s life. Oríkì remark on what is distinctive in a
person, rather than simply flattering him or her. Men tend to acquire more oríkì than
women, and prominent people in the community acquire more than obscure people.
Profusion and variety are of great importance in a performance, for the more
prolonged and intense the salutation, the more the aura of the subject is enhanced.
Material may be borrowed from a range of textual sources—including other bodies of
oríkì, proverbs, Ifa divination verses, and even riddles—and converted into attributions to
heap upon the subject. The performance of oríkì is galvanizing and empowering,
heightening a human subject’s social well-being, spurring a masquerade into action, and
inspiring the òrìsà to make their presence felt among the human community.
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Oríkì may be recited in a normal speaking voice to greet or congratuate a subject, in
which case they are simply called oríkì. But they also form the basis for a wide variety of
named chants or chanting modes, some very localized and others widely found among
Yoruba-speaking people. Among the most widespread and best known are ìjálá (hunters’
chants), iwì egúngún (ancestral masquerade chants), and e kún ìyàwó (bridal chants).
Chanting modes are distinguished by intonation and voice quality, by the focus of the
address (thus, in ìjálá, the subjects are often animals, while in iwì egúngún there are
usually long passages addressing the legendary founder of the ancestral masquerade cult,
and in e kún ìyàwó the focus is on the performer herself, who is the bride), by the nature
of the additional textual materials that supplement the oríkì, and by the people who
perform the chant (and the contexts in which they do so). But there are also many styles
of oríkì chanting that are not distinguished by name, as genres. These are often performed
by the daughters and wives of a household, who may achieve unparalleled mastery of the
art.
Both men and women may be professional or specialist performers who earn an
income by attending major life-cycle celebrations, festivals, and other events in their
area, praising the celebrants using whatever portions of their oríkì they are familiar with.
Some become famous through performance on television and radio, or through records
and cassettes.
The meaning of oríkì is often obscure, requiring an explanation from knowledgeable
elders. This often involves the parallel and interdependent tradition of ìtàn (true
narrative). In many cases, women are more expert than men in oríkì, while male elders
are better versed in the ìtàn that can explain them.
References
Babalo lá, S.A. 1966. The Content and Form of Yorùbá Ìjálá. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Babalo lá, Adébóyè. 1966. Àwo n Oríkì Orílè. Glasgow: Collins.
Barber, Karin. 1991. I Could Speak Until Tomorrow: Oríkì. Women, and the Past in a Yoruba
Town. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press.
O latunji, O latunde. 1984. Features of Yoruba Oral Poetry. Ibadan, Nigeria: University Press.
KARIN BARBER
See also Okyeame; Praise Poetry
PROSE AND POETRY OF THE FULANI
The Fulani (also called Fulbe or Peul) are found in the Sahelian zone, from Senegal in the
west to the south of Sudan in the east, and into the Central African Republic to the south.
Over time, they have formed varied communities, ranging from groups of shepherd
nomads to vast states in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, which the colonial
conquests eradicated. They share a common language, with diversified dialects and a
common culture. Their literary production, whether oral or written, is uncommonly
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abundant. There is a tradition of scholarly literature inherited from Islam and written in
adjami characters adapted from Arabic. They are a people of nomadic origins, who lack
statuary or permanent architecture, and they have left the art of instrumental music to
castes. So it is primarily in the field of language that they have invested their artistic and
creative faculties. Their literature is, in fact, one of the richest in western Africa, with the
genres varying within each group according either to historical or ecological conditions.
Prose Genres
As elsewhere, tales (taalol) are the most commonly found genre. However, under the
impact of neighboring populations, themes and interpretations may differ according to
regions. Told and heard by everyone, prose forms such as legends, fables, song tales,
proverbs, and riddles serve as purveyors of social norms and systems of thought. It is
through these genres, and the countless linguistic acrobatic and pedadogic puns and plays
on words, that children learn language.
Intended for adults rather than for youths, the janti, among other narratives, are long
philosophical stories or great parables marked with esoteric symbolism. They seem to
bear witness to systems of thought or to ancient initiation rituals. Amadou Hampâté Bâ
published several magnificent examples of these narratives, including Koumen, Kaïdara,
and l’Éclat de la grande étoile. For the two latter he gave poetical versions.
Another narrative genre of considerable importance is the epic, which flourishes in the
western part of the Fulani area (even though the nomadic Fulani ignore it) and those who
are sedentary in Cameroon and Nigeria do not know of its use). Restricted to griots
(specialists in verbal arts) the oration of epic narratives is accompanied on a lute by
musical passages which are associated with specific heroes. The epic genre offers three
orientations. The most common exalts the feats and doings of historical characters, such
as Samba Guéladio Diégui, Silâmaka and Poullôri, Ham-Bodédio, and Boûbou Ardo
Galo, in addition to all those heroes of the Dîna, the Massina Empire, that was established
by Seku Amadu. All of these characters are transmuted by legend into prototypes of the
representative heroes of pulaaku (the Fulani ideal way of being, centered on the assertion
of absolute independence). A second type of epic is related to professional occupations:
(fishermen),
(warriors from Senegal), and Fulani shepherds. The epic
narratives about the latter group deal exclusively with raids on cattle, while the narratives
of the fishermen form part of an annual ritual for a crocodile hunt in which they are sung,
not by griots, but by the possessors of knowledge of magic (healers and diviners). A final
type of epic, of religious inspiration, praises the heroes of the jihad, particularly El Hadj
Umar, the founder of the Tukulor Empire in the nineteenth century. This character was
also praised in an epic in verse in the same pattern as Arabic poetry.
The common goal of these epics is to foster a sense of community in the audience.
This is accomplished by exalting the form of both text and music. By representing
extravagant characters, this form is reminiscent of the specific traits on which Fulani
identity is based. Therefore, it is the genre which best ensures the perpetuation of the
behavioral ideals for the Fulani.
Among the prose narratives, there are also historical chronicles called tarikhs. When
delivered orally, their style is close to that of epics, but when written they are often
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reduced to genealogies, with schematic and conventional biographies and stark
descriptions of events presented without elaborations.
Finally, in addition to the translations of the Quran into Fulani, the cultural heritage
from Islam is represented by an abundant literary output, including scholarly, academic,
and didactic written works, either in Arabic or in Fulani. These works are by learned
intellectuals anxious to transmit, at a high level of competence, teachings in the fields of
theology or exegesis, and to spread them among the Fulani.
Poetic Genres
There are many poetic genres, which serve to illustrate the foremost traits of Fulani
culture, mainly pastoralism and Islam. This a rich, pastorally-inspired poetry takes
different forms depending on the region. There are askooji ná i (cattle genealogies) in
Senegal, recited in contests between shepherds while they water their cattle. There are
cooraaji and diisi, which are spells and propitiatory incantations sprinkled with Muslim
invocations to God and the Prophet. These are ritually repeated by the master owners of
the pastoral secrets in the Futa-Jalon. There are also jammooje ná i (praises of cattle),
which are endless poems using sound sequences composed by the young shepherds from
Mali during their solitary migrations to water sources and pasture land. They declaim
them, at the top of their voices, while they publicly march their herds at the annual feast
in celebration of their return. The sophisticated composition of these poems reveal, as
oral creations, a stylistic refinement, an outstanding linguistic awareness, and an
extraordinary artistic knowledge.
Other poetical genres, more eclectic in their themes, are just as refined in their style.
The mergi in Mali are recited in monotone rhythm by their authors, while in Cameroon
the mbooku requires the participation of a troupe of performers who repeat each verse
after the narrator, adding a balancing movement to the rhythm of the recital. Here, each
poet puts his talent into practice in a fictitious rivalry ranging across diverse subjects and
in the most varied tones, so that these poems act as conservatories of language and
culture.
Islam has lead to some rich poetical productions in Arabic, but most are in Fulani.
Using metrics and a prosody inspired from Arabic patterns, a great variety of religious
poetry has developed, intended, at times, to be performed in a militant matter or at other
times, as a more personal mystical aspiration. This poetry is sung without instrumental
accompaniment in the zaouias by talibes, by groups of pious women in private, or in
public by blind men who are professional singers.
A modern secular poetry has also appeared. This verse deals with ordinary subjects. In
conjunction with this poetry a certain professional enacting of literature has also
appeared. These can be testimonies of the colonial period, circumstantial pamphlets or
panegyrics, or lyrical, satirical, or dramatic evocations.
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Genres of Song
Song is so important to the Fulani that it cannot be dissociated from literary creation.
Alongside religious poetry, there is an extensive range of sung secular genres, which are
performed with instrumental accompaniment or a cappella with only the clapping of
hands and tinkling of bracelets as accompaniment. There are many public or private
opportunities to express oneself in song. Lullabies, young girls, songs, and marriage
songs are widely performed. There are war odes (buruuji), praise songs, and satirical or
parodic songs taken up by profession griots with lute accompaniment. One also hears
languorous and evocative shepherd elegies accompanied by a monocord lute. And there
are songs of defiance preceeding rituals of flagellation.
Besides these genres, each professional group develops a type of traditional song of its
own, such as the fantang of cattle breeders in Senegal, the gumbala of warriors, and the
dillere of the weavers. Certain songs like the direere of the farmers (in Mali) or the
gerewol of the nomads in Cameroon and Niger, are accompanied by specific dance steps.
Among the epic texts, the pekaan of the fishermen is also sung a cappella. The more
ancient genres continue to be perpetuated while new ones are being born (like the
uumarayel in Sénégal).
Literary activity is strongly implicated in the functioning of society, and the
repertoires are distributed according to sex, age, professional function, and social status.
For example, a certain pastoral poem will only be used among young shepherds, who,
however great their talent, will forsake this style as soon as they are integrated into adult
life. The same occurs with other song genres. As for epic narrations, they are performed
by the griots. However, among the learned classes, some Fulani-speaking authors have
emerged, such as the great Malian writer Âmadou Hampâté Bâ, who, besides his
production in the French language, has written texts in a superb poetical form. There is
also the Senegalese writer and poet Yêro Dôro Diallo whose work, exclusively written in
Fulani, is less known. Within the younger generation a movement of artists and modern
poets has developed. They still imitate the traditional songs, but have also inaugurated
new styles and written poems of a more personal nature.
The vitality that the Fulani people show in their literary creation has not waned with
time. It remains a symbol of their unfailing capability to adapt themselves to new
situations, and it has enabled them, through all their migrations, to preserve their cultural
identity.
REFERENCES
Abdoulaye, O.D. 1988. Mbooku, poesie peule du Diamaré. Vol. 1. Paris: L Harmattan.
Arnott, D.W. 1985. Literature in Fula. In Literatures in African Languages. Theoretical Issues and
Sample Surveys, ed. B.W. Andrzejewski, S.Pilaszewicz, and W. Tyloch. Cambridge, England:
Cambridge University Press.
Bâ, A.H. 1974. L’eclat de la Grande Etoile, suivi du Bain rituel, récits initiatiques peuls. Paris:
A.Colin, Les Belles Lettres, Classiques Africains, 15.
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——. 1985. Njeddo Dewal, Mère de calamité. Abidjan-Dakar-Lome. Les Nouvelles Editions
Africaines.
Bâ, A.H., and Dieterlen, G. 1961. Koumen. texte initiatique des pasteurs peuls. (Paris: La Haye,
Mouton, Cahiers de l’Homme.
Bâ, A.H. and Kesteloot, L. 1968. Kaídara. récit initiatique peul rapporté par A.H. Bâ. Paris: A.
Colin, Les Belles Lettres, Classiques Africains 7.
Correra, I. 1992. Samba Guéladio, épopée peule du Fuuta Tooro. texte pulaar par Amadou. Kamara
Dakar, initiations et études africaines no. 36. Université de Dakar-Ifan Cheikh Anta Diop.
Eguchi, P.K. 1978–84. Fulfulde Tales of North Cameroon. 4 vols. Tokyo: Institute for the Study of
Languages and Cultures of Asia and Africa.
Gaden, H. 1931. Proverbes et maximes peuls et toucouleurs. traduits, expliqués, annotés. Paris:
Travaux et mémoires de l’Institut d’ethnologie.
——. 1935. La vie d’El Hadj Omar, qacida en poular de Mohammadou Aliou Tyam; Paris:
Travaux et mémoires de l’Institut d’ethnologie.
Haafkens, J. 1983. Chants musulmans en peul: textes de l heritage Leiden: Brill. religieux de la
communauté musulmane de Maroua, Cameroun.
Labatut, R. 1974. Chants de vie et de beauté peuls. Becueillis chez les Peuls nomades du NordCameroun. Paris: Publications orientalistes de France.
Lacroix, P.F. 1965. Poésie peule de l Adamawa. éditée par. Paris: Julliard, Les Belles Lettres,
Classiques Africains 3.
Meyer, G. 1988. Paroles du soir. Contes toucouleurs. Paris. L’Harmattan.
——. 1991. Récits épiques toucouleurs. La vache, le livre, la lance. (Paris: Karthala-ACCT.
Mohammadou, E. 1980. Traditions historiques des Foulbés de l’Adamaoua. Paris: CNRS.
Ndongo, S.M. 1986. Le Fantang. Poémes mythiques des bergers peuls. (Karthala: IFAN-UNESCO.
Ngaide, M.L. 1983. Le vent de la razzia. Deux récits épiques des Peuls du Jolof. Dakar: IFAN.
Noye, D. 1976. Blasons peuls. Eloges et satires du Nord-Cameroun. Paris: Librairie orientaliste
P.Geuthner.
——. 1983. Baba Zandou raconte. Paris: Edicef, Fleuve et Flamme.
Seydou, C. 1992. Silàmaka et Poullôri. récit épique peul raconté par Tinguidji, édité par. Paris: A.
Colin, Les Belles Lettres, Classiques Africains 13.
——. 1973. Panorama de la littérature peule. Bulletin de 1 I.F.A.N., 35, no. 1:176–218.
——. 1976. Contes et fables des veillées. Paris: Nubia.
——. 1976. La geste de Ham-Bodêdio ou Hama le Royge. traduite et éditée par. Paris: A. Colin,
Les Belles Lettres, Classiques Africains 18.
——. 1991. Bergers des mots, poésie peule du Mâssina présentée et traduite par Paris: Les Belles
Lettres, Classiques Africains 24.
Sow, A.I. 1966. La femme, la vache, la foi. écrivains et poètes du Foûta Djalon. Paris: Julliard, Les
Belles Lettres, Classiques Africains 5.
——. 1968. Chroniques et récits du Foûta-Djalon. Paris: G. Klincksieck.
——. 1971. Le filon du bonheur éternel. par Tierno Mouhammadou Samba Mombéyâ, Édité par.
Paris: A. Colin, Les Belles Lettres, Classiques Africains 10.
Sy, A.A. 1978. Seul contre tous. Dakar-Abidjan, NEA.
CHRISTIANE SEYDOU
TRANSLATED BY SUZANNE RUELLAND
See also Epics; Songs
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PROSE NARRATIVES: THE MAASAI
As if intrinsic delight is not enough, oral traditions also provide commentary on a
people’s history and society. Given the mischief of cultural imagination, however, the
relation of oral literature to a people’s past and present is elusive, as it may serve to
reflect or distort, to explain or rationalize, to assert or deny, or to describe or satirize
history or the social order.
Fortunately, the formal properties of oral production often convey something of the
truth claims implicit in given genres. Maasai oral culture includes both the sung and the
spoken word. Apart from ordinary songs, several forms of lyric poetry and recitation, the
most noted being the sweet Eoko and the rapid, tongue-twisting Enkijuka; the concise
en’dung’eta erashe (skin cutter) or proverbs; riddles called il-ang’eni (for the clever), and
numerous genres of oral narrative, described below.
In The Masai: Their Language and Folklore (1905), A.C. Hollis distinguished
between “stories” (inkatinin [pl.], enkatini [sing.]), “news of long-ago” (L-Omon LiOpa), and mythic narratives, also termed “beginnings” (inkiterunot [pl.], enkiterunoto,
[sing.]). Narrative speech in general is called “news” (il-omon [pl.]), and just as one is
said in the Maasai idiom to “eat the news” (ainosa ilomon), in its recounting one also
“eats” or “consumes” a story (ainos enkatini) (Mol 1996, 39). Within Maasai narrative,
Naomi Kipury distinguishes myth and legend, as well as Ogre, Trickster, and Man
stories.
Maasai tales of the “beginning” describe the origins of social multiplicity. Best known
are “The Origin of Cattle” and “Ascending the Escarpment,” each of which involves
movement along a vertical axis that signifies a transit between the human and the
supernatural worlds and the origins of Maasai culture.
The Origin of Cattle
One day God called Maasinta, who had no cattle, and told him to make a large enclosure,
and to wait early in the morning. At the appointed hour, God dropped down a long leather
strap, down which cattle descended into the enclosure. The Dorobo woke up, saw the
cattle coming down, and expressed surprise, saying “Ayieyieyie.” At this, God said to
Maasinta that if these were enough, then he would receive no more, and that he should
love the cattle. Maasainto cursed the Dorobo, that he should remain poor, live off animals
in the wild, and find milk to be poison (Kipury 1983, 30–31).
Here, the genesis of cattle explains the social distinction between the Maasai
pastoralist and the Dorobo hunter, their economic status, and the dominance of one and
subordination of the other, which are all seen to originate through supernatural
intervention, and to be explained by, and justified by, the myth.
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Ascending the Escarpment
Long ago, the Maasai found themselves in a dry, craterlike country during drought, but it
was noticed that birds flew down the steep escarpment with green grass. Climbing the
escarpment, scouts found a lush, green pasture, empty of people. At that time there were
no social divisions, and everyone spoke Olmaa. They constructed a “bridge” out of a
strap, up which people and livestock began to climb, but when only half the people had
reached the top, it collapsed, throwing the other half down to the dry plains. Those people
became Ilmeek, the non-Maasai, while those who reached the top became the Maasai,
and at that time clans, age-sets, diviners, blacksmiths, and other social differences
originated (Sankan 1971, 67–69).
“Coming up” the escarpment (enkilepunoto endigir) defines the moment of historical
“becoming” for Maasai, who trace their origin as a people to “when they came up.” On
the one hand, their becoming “people of cattle” (Galaty 1983) occurred with the
movement of cattle from sky/heaven (enkai) to earth (enkop), while, on the other hand,
they became cultured Maasai by the movement of people and cattle from below (abort) to
above (shumata). In the first case, divinity descends to the Maasai, while in the second
the Maasai ascend to divinity; nonetheless, in the beginning of social difference, it is
being favored by divine blessing that above all distinguishes the Maasai.
In Maasai myths of origin, dramatic personae exemplify social categories—the
protagonist, for instance, being the Maasai as pastoralist—and plots hinge on vital
ruptures in cosmic time that give rise to distinctions crucial to the world as it is known:
between men and women, between herders, hunters, and farmers, between ordinary folk,
blacksmiths, and prophets, between moieties and clans, between age groups and language
groups, between a world where God mingles with people and sky and earth are one, and
one where the natural and supernatural are properly distinguished—in short between
original cosmic homogeneity and subsequent mundane differentiation (Galaty 1982,
1986).
In legend, however, prototypical characters are personifications of actual groups (e.g.,
Maasai or Olarinkon as representatives of the Maasai or Ilarinkon groups). Through the
use of symbolic images, legendary episodes seem to represent social processes more than
historical events, and they exemplify social relations rather than actualities (Willis 1981,
101; Kipury 1983, 18). Historical groups with whom Maasai came into early conflict
(e.g., Ilarinkon, Iltatwa, Iloogolala) are recalled as the stuff of legend, their warrior giants
defeated by the small but swift Maasai only due to the latter’s intelligence and audacity.
Similarly, the Inkidong’i narrative, which recounts the origin of the Maasai Iloibonok
(Laibon) diviners and prophets, dramatizes the lineage’s history as a series of magical
actions that lend its members credibility as ritual leaders of the Maasai (Galaty 1977,
280–284). Oral history, finally, makes reference to actual age-sets and named heroes,
details actual times and places, and describes events with vivid imagery. Thus, in the
continuum from myth to legend to history, narrative dimensions evolve from a vertical
cosmic axis (along which the mortal engages with the divine) to a horizontal north-south
historical axis, signifying a migratory trajectory of the long term.
Maasai stories, in contrast to narratives of “long ago,” occur along a cultural axis,
which contrasts the domestic and the wild in proximal, social space. Prototypes of the
“wild” may be animals, monsters, enemies, or simply the greedy or cruel, but all are
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associated with the wilderness (entim) that lies outside domestic space and beyond
civilized norms of everyday Maasai cultural life. Human stories often portray human
foibles and predicaments against the backdrop of Maasai social patterns and conflict with
generic opponents.
The Shepherd Boy
A shepherd boy used to soothe a goat that did not like its kid, encouraging it to nurse.
One day he was taken by warriors, who had come to steal the livestock he tended. Later,
he saw warriors from his own home and arranged to meet them when he was soothing the
goat. He prepared a big gourd of milk for them to drink. Because he was watched by a
suspicious woman, he gave instructions to his comrades indirectly, by singing a song to
the goat he was soothing, explaining to the woman that this was how it was done where
he came from. Then the warriors jumped over the gate and killed everyone except those
who had been kind to the boy, and retrieved their cattle and sheep (Kipury 1983, 115–
118).
In some human-based stories, specific animals interact with humans as dramatic
agents, these often being birds of character, whose stereotypic attributes define their roles
in folklore (Galaty 1998).
The Girl Who Married a Crow
A disgusting bird disguised himself as a person and married a girl, despite her misgivings
and apprehensions. Out of sight of her home, the Crow threatened to eat her and went to
fetch wood. She sung a lament which was heard by her brother, her former lover, and
several others, who gave her a club and hid nearby. Crow was struck and crushed to
death, and the girl returned to marry her lover (Hollis 1905, 198–201; Kipury 1983, 59–
60)
Here, Crow plays the role often attributed to monsters or ogres.
Old Sayialel and Eagle
Ole Sayialel was killed in a raid, but after being left by his comrades he was revived by
Eagle’s beating wings. His lover mourned his supposed death and refused to marry
anyone else. When, upon returning, Ole Sayialel killed one of his own fat he-goats for
Eagle, the herders ran to report the loss and described the warrior. Ole Sayialel sung a
praise song to Eagle. His lover, hearing it, suspected it was Ole Sayialel, and dressed in
her finery to receive him (Kipury 1983, 93–95).
In contrast, Eagle here is a quasi-divine agent, a helper, even a savior. The final
example represents one of the few cases in which the fable and story are mixed, with
human destiny intersecting the cohort of the usual fabulous animals.
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The Warrior and Dove
All except one in a hungry group of warriors killed and ate a dog. Fearing the one who
did not eat the dog would tell and shame them, the warriors made him fall in a well and
left him to die. When Zebra, Jackal, Hyena, and Rhino asked to drink at the well, the
warrior said that they could do so only if they could relate the incident properly so he
would be rescued, but they were unable to do so. Only Dove appropriately told how she
would sing a song telling of the accident, asking for “eight straps and eight hooks.” She
was allowed to drink and departed to call for help. Dove was finally understood at the
warrior’s village, and after the warrior was rescued he slaughtered a ram for Dove, who
became his close friend (Kipury 1983, 97–100).
Here, Dove resembles Eagle in serving as a human partner.
In Maasai fables, ordinary birds and game animals rarely figure as characters; rather,
social scenarios are played out by unique animals like Hare (enkitejo, the “speaker”),
Hyena, Snake, and Elephant, with stand-ins provided by Lion, Jackal, Giraffe, Rhino,
Ostrich, and Turtle. Here, an alternative society is created, homologous to the human
world, in which talking animals are endowed with human personalities, motives, and
foibles. One type of Maasai fable pits a subtle, humorous, and cunning protagonist (Hare,
Jackal, or Mongoose) against an manipulative and greedy bully (Hyena or Lion). The
protagonist invariably overcomes the villain through trickery or with the assistance of
other animals, and the latter is often killed. In a second, lighter fable, the protagonist—
incorporating some of the greedy attributes of an absent villain—plays a trick on one of
the larger, stupider, but well-intentioned characters, and, after failing, escapes. In a third
variation, the villain tries to exploit one of the larger but harmless animals, but is
thwarted by the cunning protagonist, who takes the latter’s part.
Interestingly, the lead characters are all medium-sized, well-proportioned (on a human
scale), and—like Maasai—generally share some human predatory consumption traits,
including an appreciation of meat. Naive foils, on the other hand, tend to be large and
grotesque, like Elephant or Ostrich, or, if not unusually shaped, equally harmless and
gullible, like Cow or Antelope. Across fables, a pattern of systematic replacement can be
seen of animal characters by their thematic counterparts. The most common dramatic
partnership (of protagonist and antagonist) is of Hare and Lion, though Jackal and Hyena
or Mongoose and Lion are also common. The naive Elephant is often paired with a wily
foil, such as Snake or Bird. The great is thus paired with the small, the high with the low,
and the gullible with the shrewd.
Hare and Other Animals
Hare, Elephant, Snake, Tortoise, and Hyena owned a herd of cattle and donkeys, and
when Elephant was herding, Hare told the others that to avoid having their animals stolen
by Elephant one day, they should kill him. Snake bit Elephant’s trunk when he drank
water and he died. When Snake took his turn herding, Hare told the others that since
Snake had been so brave, he would take all the cattle for himself, so should be killed.
Tortoise rolled down the hill and killed Snake. When they moved their home to look for
better pastures, Hare said that since Tortoise was so slow they should leave him behind,
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which they did. Then Hare suggested to Hyena that they divide their cattle, and asked to
take the cattle without horns so she wouldn’t get butted. Hyena insisted on himself taking
the cattle without horns, which were of course donkeys. Later, Hyena ate Hare’s mother,
and to avenge her Hare told Hyena that the diviner said they should jump over a big fire,
Hare when it was smoking, Hyena when it was burning. Hyena plunged into the fire, and
when he asked Hare to rescue him, Hare turned him over with a rake, saying “Did you
ask me to turn you over?” And that is the end (Kipury 1983, 68–71).
Maasai fables balance between the fantastical and the allegorical: animals that speak
form communities of human proportion. Neither small nor gregarious herd animals play
crucial roles, for neither are truly distinctive. The characterization intrinsic to animal
roles tends both to be ethologically sound and humanly persuasive, making fables
convincing junctures between the human and the bestial. Animal characters speak,
connive, hold meetings, go herding, and adorn themselves, manifesting human traits and
acting out human scenarios. Major players seem male, while vulnerable foils are female
(often mothers with young). Themes of the smaller, weaker, and younger overcoming the
larger, stronger, and older are common to Maasai stories, as well, and the contrast
between the restrained and cunning protagonist and its impulsive, greedy, and cruel
counterpart is not unlike the contrast implicit in the Maasai idealized self-image
(exemplified in myths of origin) of being superior to lesser non-Maasai. Fables are at
once fantastic renderings of an autonomous animal world humanized, and allegorical
representations of a human world bestialized. The animal and the human serve, in Erich
Auberbach’s terms, as figura of one another, each signifying and fulfilling not only itself
but the other (2003, 64).
The very fact that folklore is entertainment does not tell us why it is entertaining.
Maasai folklore performs a sort of cultural work; it worries and plays at the question of
identity by crafting a plethora of personae that dramatize attributes (embodied in figura
as memorably grotesque), which define, through contrast, opposition, and satire, the selfendowed traits of the self. In this way, there is a peculiar unity running through radically
diverse genres, connecting hunters and blacksmiths in social life, preternatural ogres and
monsters (giants dramatizing enemies), cowards and the selfish in “man” stories; and, in
fables, portraying species as individuals. Folklore and oral traditions do more than stage a
society already defined and known, for through the diverse genres of the oral
imagination, scenes, characters, and scenarios are scripted and brought into play,
constructing in thought and images a social world that is then lived out.
References
Auberbach, Erich. 2003. Mimesis: The Representation of Reality in Western Literature (1953), tr.
Willard R.Trask. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press.
Galaty, J.G. 1977. In the Pastoral Image: The Dialectic of Maasai Identity. Ph.D thesis, University
of Chicago.
——. 1982. Being “Maasai”; Being “People-of-Cattle”: Ethnic Shifters in East Africa. American
Ethnologist 9, no. 1:1–20.
——. 1986. East African Hunters and Pastoralists in a Regional Perspective: An
“Ethnoanthropological” Approach. Sprache und Geschichte in Aftika 7, no. 1:105–131.
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——. 1998. The Maasai Ornithorium: Tropic Flights of Avian Imagination in Africa. Ethnology
Summer.
Hollis, A.C. 1970. The Maasai: Their Language and Folklore (1905). Westport, Conn.: Negro
Universities Press.
Jacobs, Alan. 1968. A Chronology of the Pastoral Maasai. In Hadith I. Ed. B.Ogot. Nairobi: East
African Publishing.
Kipury, Naomi. 1983. Oral Literature of the Maasa. Nairobi: Heinemann.
Mol, Frans. 1978. Maa: A Dictionary of the Maasai Language and Folklore, English-Maasai.
Nairobi: Marketing and Publishing.
——. 1996. Maasai Language and Culture. Lemek: Maasai Centre.
Sankan, S.S. 1971. The Maasai. Nairobi: East African Literature Bureau.
——. 1979. Intepen e Maasai. Nairobi: Kenya Literature Bureau.
Willis, Roy. 1981. A State in the Making: Myth, History, and Social Transformation in Precolonial
Ufipa. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
JOHN G.GALATY
See also East African Folklore; Folktales; Myths
PROSE NARRATIVES: THE MENDE
The Mende people, numbering more than one million, live in villages and towns
clustered into chiefdoms throughout the low forests of southern Sierra Leone, in diaspora
communities of Freetown (the national capital), and in adjacent areas of western Liberia.
The Mende have occupied these areas for at least the last 500 years, although traditional
settlements and social structures have been profoundly affected by a civil war that
ravaged Mendeland and the rest of Sierra Leone in the 1990s.
The Mende refer to their oral tradition collectively as njepe wovei (old talk), which
includes such diverse genres as history, the dilemma tale, myths of the trickster (Kaso),
the hero (Musa Wo), and the folktale (domei). Despite this genre diversity, all Mende
narrative forms are related through common plots, which are the building blocks of njepe
wovei.
History is divided by the Mende into two epochs: ancient times, when present patterns
of life were established, and the past, which is in the memory of the oldest people in the
town. This division corresponds to the distinction between the nameless dead (ndebla),
and the remembered fathers (kekenl), who together constitute the ndoobla (ancestors).
Mende history is simply called njepe wovei, and so is related to all the other forms of
storytelling, although it is held to be an accurate account of historical fact. The oldest and
most respected men, the kpakoisla, who do not perform other narratives, take pride in
telling histories, especially stories about the founding of their towns.
According to the kpakoisla, dilemma tales hold a position of prestige midway between
narrative histories and the folktale proper (domei). In the dilemma tale, plots borrowed
from njepe wovei are subordinated to the framing of a conundrum. Possible resolutions to
the conundrum are then presented to an audience, which must either choose among them
or recognize the dilemma as irresolvable. Open-endedness is thus the distinguishing mark
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of this type of narrative; the narrator purposefully creates a conflict of choice. The point
of the narrative is the cleverness of the argument.
Dilemma and history are kinetic: they release their energies outward. Their appeal is
directly to the intellect, and their recitation is altogether a respectable affair. Both genres
lack the leader/ chorus singing which characterizes the performance of the domei. This
absence is crucial, since the Mende maintain that music is incompatible with truth
(tonya), and so they categorize the domei as separate from other narrative genres on this
basis alone.
If tonya is further glossed as “objectivity,” then the sense of the Mende classification
becomes more apparent. The domei is a subjective art form for women. The
domeigbuamoi (performer) uses leader/chorus singing as an emotional net with which to
trap her audience. By joining in the song, everyone participates in her performance. In
order to generate the energy necessary to so ensnare her audience, the domeigbuamoi
must commit her body to the performance. Such uninhibited behavior is not in keeping
with the emotional austerity expected of male elders. Domei performance is thus left to
women, and to those males willing to take chances with their reputations.
Domeisia (pl.) fit into the universal category of folktale. Although all Mende would
agree that they are fiction (and in fact are commonly called nde [lies]), domeisia are the
only narratives that deal exclusively with basic human problems. In their coupling of
everyday issues with fabulous, contrived plots, domeisia might also be compared to the
conventions of the television soap opera. In performance, they seem tangentially related
to such contemporary theatrical forms as the American burlesque or the English musichall review. Like other genres of njepe wovei, domeisia are created out of an inherited
body of narrative images that are brought to ephemeral life through the words, song,
dance, and dramatic mime of a performer in dramatic harmony with her audience.
Together, and out of a common tradition, performer and audience realize the most
intensely personal form of all Mende narrative artistry.
There is a final genre of njepe wovei that must be considered in relationship to the
domei. This is the continuum of tales that stretches from Kaso, the spider-trickster, to
Musa Wo, the trickster-hero. In structure, these narratives are simpler than the domei,
following an invariable violated injunction-punishment pattern. It may be this simplicity
of form that makes these tales so popular, for Kaso is undoubtedly the most re-created
character in Mende folklore, especially favored by children. The tales are also easier to
perform, since they generally lack the songs that would otherwise ensnare an audience in
the unfolding plots. Through the boundless repetition of tricks, which on the animal level
seeks to despoil rice pots and on the human to obliterate chiefdoms, this narrative
complex defines what is below and above accepted standards of social order.
Kaso and Musa Wo thus generate the narrative body of Mende mythology. They
express the ineffable in the form of a spider and a willful child. As mythological
characters, trickster and hero sharpen the concepts of order that underlie the rest of njepe
wovei. These myths represent a counterpoint to that order. The world of trickster and hero
is a chaos without boundary, evoking the laughter of Mende audiences because it belies
the categorical borders they have devised to maintain the rest of their folklore.
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References
Cosentino, Donald. 1980. Lele Gbomba and the Style of Mende Baroque. African Arts 13, no.
3:54–57, 75–78.
——. 1982. Defiant Maids and Stubborn Farmers. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University
Press.
——. 1988. Image, Parody and Debate: Levels in Mende Narrative Performance. Journal of
Folklore Research 25:1–2; 17–34.
——. 1989. Midnight Charters: Musa Wo and Mende Myths of Chaos. In Creativity of Power. Ed.
W.Arens and I.Karp. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press.
Hinzen, James, and Tamu Sorie. 1987. Fishing in Rivers of Sierra Leone Oral Literature.
Freetown: People’s Educational Association of Sierra Leone.
Innes, Gordon. 1965. The Function of Song in Mende Folklore. Sierra Leone Language Review
4:54–63.
Kilson, Marion. 1976. Royal Antelope and Spider, West African Mende Tales. Cambridge, Mass:
Langdon Associates.
Philips, Ruth. 1995. Representing Woman. Los Angeles: Fowler Museum.
Winch, Julian. 1971. Religious Ideas of the Mende towards Land. Africana Research Bulletin 2:17–
36.
DONALD COSENTINO
See also Folktales; Gesture; Oral Performance Dynamics
PROSE NARRATIVES: THE TABWA
Tabwa folklore was studied during the colonial period by several able amateur
ethnographers. At the turn of the century, Father Joseph Weghsteen collected
cosmological myths, including an important account of an anthropomorphic aardvark. As
a culture hero, Aardvark instigates the introduction of human life and culture to the world
before retiring to the underworld obscurity he has occupied forever after. Aardvarks are
preposterous beasts by Tabwa reckoning, combining physical and behavioral features of
many different animals. Aardvark proves an especially appropriate hero, for order is
established through his efforts, but never to the exclusion of aardvark-like ambiguities in
cosmic and social domains. The protagonists of this story have changed to meet the needs
of the new circumstances in which Tabwa find themselves in postcolonial times, but the
tale’s structure remains an important vehicle for discussing radical social change and
necessary human innovation (Roberts 1986).
Proverbs were collected by Stefano Kaoze, a Tabwa seminarian who, in 1917, became
the first citizen of the Belgian Congo to be ordained a Catholic priest. Many of the
proverbs have yet to be published, but one selection edited by Genevieve Nagant in 1973
contains both humorous nuggets of wisdom and politically pointed proverbs used in the
course of heated debate. “Kalimba ngawana ta kapwa musango” (One can never play a
melody on a borrowed thumb piano [plucked ideophone]) bespeaks a Tabwa sense of
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personal identity, ability, and achievement that cannot be borrowed or otherwise gained
from someone else. “Unge walaviziwe na mwezi kutota” (Someone has been fooled by
the moonlight) brings to mind midsummer nights’ dreams and Shakespearean insight into
the uncertainties of perception and knowledge. “Mweni ubika buta, tabika matwi” (A
stranger will lay down his bow, but never his ears) is a double-edged warning, for one
must be careful when venturing abroad and vulnerable by listening to what is being
whispered by one’s hosts, and those receiving a visitor must beware not to speak too
openly in front of strangers whose motivations and affiliations are not yet known.
Tabwa enjoy telling riddles and “dilemma tales” (Bascom 1975) when paddling their
canoes or walking long distances. These are familiar to everyone, and the same narrator
may present a different argument or defend a different protagonist from one telling to the
next. Take, for instance, this riddle: “A man is traveling in a canoe with his sister, wife,
and mother-in-law. None but the man can swim. When the canoe is overturned and sinks
in a storm, the man can only save one passenger. Which should he rescue?” This simple
device can provide hours of raucous debate, for it reveals conflicts inherent to Tabwa
social structure, the consequences of which are known all too well to everyone
concerned. Tabwa observe matrilineal descent, so a man must look to his sister to give
birth to his heirs. Tabwa marriage is arranged, but is often long-lived, stable, and
enlivened by love. One’s wife is a helpmate, lover, and mother of one’s children—for
whom one cares with all parental intensity, even though they are not one’s heirs. A man
courteously avoids his mother-in-law, for his relationship to her is critical to conjugal
happiness. How can the unfortunate man allow any of these women to perish? And yet
hard choices are the stuff of life, and so time is passed wondering what the man should
do.
Fables (nsimo) are told by parents, grandparents, and neighbors to entertain children
and teach them the precepts and responsibilities of Tabwa society. Many tales concern
animal tricksters and those they dupe. Kalulu, the wily hare, regularly deflates the
pomposities of Lion and avoids the silly schemes of Hyena. Like many African tricksters,
Kalulu’s hilarious duplicity is both shocking and admirable. As a proverb has it,
“Kwatumwa Kalulu lwendo kene kalinu lwa kako” (There where Kalulu has been sent,
he wanted to go in the first place) (Nagant 1973, 749). The lesson is this: if someone
whom you know to be untrustworthy readily agrees to do you a favor, it is because he has
already recognized some personal gain most likely to prove to your own disadvantage.
Zambian Tabwa narratives are the ongoing subject of Robert Cancel’s writing and
videography. The “living enactment that is storytelling” is brilliantly presented, and as
Cancel explains the circumstances and purposes, stylistic flourishes, and audience
interactions that animate and motivate a given performance, the reader is transported to
join the audience’s circle in rapt attention.
References
Bascom, William. 1975. African Dilemma Tales. The Hague: Mouton.
Cancel, Robert. 1989. Allegorical Speculation in an Oral Society: The Tabwa Narrative Tradition.
Modern Philology 122.
Nagant, Genevieve, ed. 1973. Proverbes tabwa. Cahiers dEtudes Africaines 52, no. 4:744–768.
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Roberts, Allen. 1986. Social and Historical Contexts of Tabwa Art. In The Rising of a New Moon:
A Century of Tabwa Art. Ed. Allen Roberts and Evan Maurer. Ann Arbor: University of
Michigan Press.
Weghsteen, Joseph. 1962. Origine et dispersion des hommes d’apres les legendes tabwa. Annali del
Pontifico Museo Ethnologico Lateranensi Vaticano 26:213–219.
ALLEN F.ROBERTS
See also Dilemma Tales; Folktales; Proverbs
PROSE NARRATIVES AND
PERFORMANCE: THE TUAREG
The Tuareg are a socially stratified, seminomadic people who speak a Berber language
(Tamadheq), adhere to Islam, and predominate in the contemporary nation states of Niger
and Mali, as well as parts of Libya, Algeria, and Burkina Faso. Tuareg verbal art
specialists, although characterized by some flexibility and overlap, generally follow
inherited social stratum, age and gender categories.
Tuareg Folklore: The Roles of Specialists
Blacksmiths often provide social commentary in folktales and songs, and act as “gatekeepers,” helping to arrange noble marriages, given their status outside nobles’ descent
system. Blacksmiths also serve as artisans and general handy persons. Their music
specialty is praise singing and percussion instrumentals, namely small drums called
acanza. They are played at rites of passage, while the tende drum is played at festivals
and female spirit possession rituals. Smiths tell animal tales illustrating human social
situations and moral points.
Young noble men, and in some regions, also women, specialize in sung poetry,
sometimes accompanied by a one-stringed, bowed lute call anzad, which is played by a
woman. Men sing poems outside villages and camps in the company of age-mates and
those with whom they share familiar joking relationships.
Young girls of diverse social origins tell origin tales of female matrilineal clan
ancestors and animal stories. Women often tell tales as they weave mats at night, inside
the maternal tent that a married woman owns, with close kinspersons present. Women
also tell tales while they are in the pastures herding their livestock. Some tales have sung
verses embedded within the plots, at intervals; these usually represent lamentations.
Messelane, or riddles, are more formalized, always told by a pair of persons, each
alternating in the rhyming couplet question and answer. Tuareg call riddles the “brother
of tales” (amadray n imayen) because they are “next to (i.e., similar to) each other.”
Children learn riddles from their mother. Old women sing songs in each other’s company
on gathering expeditions and perform Islamic liturgical music near the mosque on Islamic
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holidays. There are certain tales only women should learn, tell, and hear, in particular, the
matrilineal origin myths (Pottier 1946).
Themes and Motifs in Tuareg Folklore: Local Typologies of Oral
Traditions
Many Tuareg tales feature motifs of brothers searching for lost sisters, female founding
ancestors/culture heroines, animal tricksters, and geographic features of the local desert
and moun-tain environment. For example, a series of tales about a hero called Aligouran
in the Air Mountain region of the Sahara in northern Niger depicts the adventures of an
uncle and his sister’s son: the uncle sends his maternal nephew on difficult and dangerous
journeys and the nephew overcomes these dangers. There is the belief that the nephew
inherits his intelligence from his mother’s brother. Some Tuareg explain this folklore
theme as referring to the uncle’s role as a teacher, testing his nephew’s skill at survival.
Some scholars interpret this motif as representing the undercurrent of tension between
matrilineal and patrilineal inheritance forms in Tuareg society (Casajus 1987). The
Tuareg believe that Aligouran created the rock art in the Sahara; much of this rock art has
been dated back to the Neolithic age and is contemporaneous with an ancient Tuareg
group of the region called the Itesen. Natural geographic features are also popular
subjects of Tuareg folklore: elders tell stories about mountains—which are personified as
being like humans—standing in kinship relationships to each other, marrying and
divorcing one another, and moving from place to place.
Among the Kel Ewey political confederation of Tuareg, where Islamic scholars called
marabouts are influential and respected, myths about female ancestors coexist alongside
alternate myths about Islamic-related male founder/heroes. An elderly woman in a noble,
maraboutique family related a story about Tagurmat, the local mythical female
ancestress, but she did not mention her name directly due to respect (Tuareg refrain from
mentioning the names of deceased ancestors for this reason, and also from fear that to
pronounce their name would invoke their souls). Perhaps this woman also omitted
Tagurmat’s name because her husband, a marabout, was present. Her version of this tale,
also related by many female herbalists around Mount Bagzan in Air, is as follows:
There was a man named Mohammed of Ibil. He and his wife were at their
house, and the woman saw some cameliers who were passing and she
went inside to watch them. She looked at them to see them clearly. The
husband slapped his wife, who died. He then cut open her stomach, and
took out two little girls, whom they called “Those girls who were cut.”
The little twin girls (of Tagurmat), it was they who founded all the
Igurmaden (a descent group within the Kel Ewey political confederation
of Tuareg, predominant around Mount Bagzan in Air). One made the
Igunnaden of the Kel Bagzan. All the Kel Igurmaden are from these two
girl twins who created them.
Many Kel Ewey Tuareg men tend to downplay matrilineal ancestor mythology told by
women (Rasmussen 1996). When a schoolchild mentioned Kahena, a Berber woman
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heroine depicted in myth as having fought against Arabs and resisted Islam, older men
present quickly dismissed her as “not important.” Only female herbalist healers explicitly
mentioned Tagurmat by name, when they related the story of Tagurmat as founder of the
local Igurmaden clan and also the founder of the herbalist medical profession. One
elderly female herbalist, for example, related another variant of the Tagurmat myth:
There was a woman who had a very jealous husband. He transferred her
very far away. They lived so that other men would not see her. One day,
he saw people coming toward them on their camels, elaborately decorated.
They said, “Look at the men who are going to war.” The woman looked
and she said, “I see a very handsome man among these men, one with an
indigo robe.” As soon as he heard this, the husband killed the woman with
a knife and she died. He straightened her body out for burial. The
woman’s stomach moved. He tore it open and took out two small twin
girls. The two little girls each held something in their hands. He cut the
umbilical cords. He arranged these girls, and after that he united the
people for taking the dead woman to the cemetery. And he told the people
afterward, “Look at what is in the hands of the little girls.” The people
said, “These small objects held, you must hide until the girls grow up to
learn about them. If they die, the information will also die.” The small
objects were in wood. These were hidden until the girls grew up. They
replied, “That is the beginning of medicine.” They even had medicine of
icherifan (clans claiming descent from the Prophet) and they taught how
the medicine is made: one touches, they explained, everything. They were
named Fatane and Fatoni. All the women on their side of the family
learned to make medicine from them, and taught this to those women who
were interested. That was the beginning of healing. Since being taken out
of their mother’s womb, these girls held medicines.
In discussions of local mythical/historical heroes, many men expressed admiration for
Boulkhou and also Kaousan: the former was a founding marabout/warrior hero, the latter
was the leader of the 1917 Tuareg Senoussi Revolt against the French in the Sahara. They
also emphasized the sinking of the first well and the building of the first mosque in the
area by a patrilineally traced male ancestor. A marabout, insisted that myths about the
mythical female founding ancestress were “not true history, but like a children’s tale.”
Instead, he emphasized a legend relating the exploits of Boulkhou, a male
marabout/warrior hero who resisted enemies in the Air region by wearing Quranic
amulets, suspended by a thread, inside a well for forty days. Many local men cited
folklore sources they identified with the Quran in order to validate legal practices.
Marabouts, for example, explained the custom of bridewealth as deriving from a local
variant of the Adam and Eve myth: “Adam gave the first bridewealth for Eve by reciting
the Islamic ezeker (songs praising God)” (Rasmussen 1997, 138). Among many Air
Tuareg groups, the tradi-tional purpose of bridewealth is to protect women
socioeconomically, for it is considered ungallant for a husband to request a
reimbursement on divorce. Kel Ewey fathers hold the bridewealth in trust for brides, and
marabouts decide who keeps the bridewealth on divorce (whoever is not at fault,
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according to the marabout’s ruling). This interplay of counter-myths is not surprising in a
society characterized by bilateral descent and inheritance institutions, with more recent
patrilineal influence from Islam and neighboring sedentary agricultural peoples,
superimposed on former matrilineal institutions (for example, some non-Quranic
inheritance forms of some property transmitted among women), and current high status
and economic independence of Tuareg women (Murphy 1967; Nicolaisen 1963; Bernus
1981; Claudot-Hawad 1993).
The Performance Style of Folklore
Women sometimes tell tales in pairs, debating plots, correcting each other, and
completing sections for each other. The audience laughs and comments freely throughout
these folklore performances. In narrative gestures during storytelling, there is the idea of
sikbar (lit. “imitation”), central to performative competence (Calame-Griaule 1977, 311).
The perceived complementarity of the gesture to the spoken word in performance is
expressed in a musical metaphor that compares the gesture to the asakalabo instrument, a
calabash floating in water, beaten with a stick, which accompanies the tende mortardrum
struck with the hands during festivals and spirit-possession rituals. A Tamacheq proverb
states, “Gestures are the asakalabo of the spoken word.” Perhaps because gestures are so
important, they are sharply restricted in usage, according to the social status and roles of
the speaker. A noble, for example, should not make as many gestures as a smith, a
woman should not make as many gestures as a man, and women are obliged to avoid
equivocal, suggestive gestures altogether. Smiths use gestures to make people laugh,
contrary to nobles’ dignity and reserve. Their gestures are labeled, in effect, as a kind of
nonverbal obscenity or at least given poetic license. Men and women of all social origins
are constrained in storytelling before certain relatives. Children and all young women
stop all performance of tales and riddles when elderly men and women approach because,
they explain, they are “ashamed” to continue, from respect (in their reserved relationship
with these persons, particularly elders on the paternal side). Women may not tell stories
in front of their mother-in-law. A man may tell stories before his father-in-law, provided
the latter has asked him to do so. One does not initiate talk in front of a parent, a parentin-law of either sex, an elder sibling, or elders on the paternal side, without having been
invited. Another constraint is that some elderly persons do not wish to have their voices
recorded because they do not wish them heard by their descendants after death. A few
Islamic scholars declined to be recorded on tape because, in the words of one,
“Marabouts are not supposed to seek glory. They should not say things profound. Rather,
they should be a reflection of God.” (Rasmussen 2001, 52).
Folklore and the Transfer of Historical and Cultural Knowledge
Among the Tuareg, verbal arts are used to transfer but also dispute, historical knowledge.
Both written and oral forms of expression remain vital today. There exist two types of
written channels: Arabic literacy of the Quran and the Tifinagh script of Tamacheq used
in love messages, poetry, and on musical instruments and jewelry. There are several types
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of oral traditions. First, there are those stories called imayen, translated into French as
contes folkloriques or folk tales; examples include the stories about Aligouran and
Tagurmat. These are primarily identified with young women, smiths of either sex, and
children. Imayen in general are viewed by some Tuareg—namely Islamic scholars, or
marabouts and noble men—as “not true history.” This type of tale portrays what men and
Islamic scholars or marabouts consider fictional. Whereas by contrast, accounts called
idamen iru, denoting legends of the past, are viewed by these persons as “true history,”
and are associated with elders, noble men, and Islamic scholars, who relate these latter
stories, for example, the legends about Kaousan and Boulkhou. Many people, particularly
youths, deny that they know origin tales. Some types of these idamen iru are esoteric
knowledge, and their telling is restricted by values of respect toward elders and deceased
ancestors. The elderly know them, and sometimes, after long acquaintance and proper
approach through intermediaries, agree to relate them. Youths say only old people should
tell some kinds of tales. But asking them to do so is a delicate matter for youths cannot
pronounce names of deceased ancestors, and youths are not supposed to ask questions of
old people. These legends are also linked conceptually to official Islam. One elderly
gardener and marabout indicated that, since growing old, he had ceased telling the other
oral traditions, called folktales or imayen, and now only told historical legends or idamen
iru. He expressed the view prevalent among men that the imayen were “not Islamic and
therefore not true.” However, the tellers of imayen, women and blacksmiths, have much
informal influence; for women educate small children by telling tales that have a clearly
didactic purpose, and smiths control nobles’ reputations through their social commentary
contained in their publicly performed tales and songs.
Among the Tuareg, therefore, social roles based on gender, social stratum,
occupational specialty, and age are associated with different types of folklore and the
transfer of different types of knowledge. Different specialists and interest groups seek to
“own” certain forms of oral traditions which promote their own interpretation of history
and culture. Noble divisions, for example, formerly had copyrights over forms of poetry
and their associated drum patterns and anzad melodies. Folklore conveys different forms
of knowledge and interpretations of history which are linked to age, descent, and gender.
Among the Tuareg, these reveal social tensions, conflicts, and change, but also the
longstanding adaptability and flexibility of a culture and its capacity to accommodate and
incorporate diverse ideologies and institutions into its framework.
References
Bernus, Edmond. 1981. Touaregs Nigeriens: Unite d’un Peuple Pasteur. Paris: Editions de I’Office
de la Recherche Scientifique et Technique d’Outre-Mer.
Calame-Griaule, Genevieve. 1977. Langage et culture africaines: Essais d’ethnolinguistique. Paris:
Maspero.
Casajus, Dominique. 1987. La Tente dans I’Essuf. Paris and London: Cambridge University Press.
Claudot-Hawad, Helene. 1993. Touareg: Portrait en fragments. Aix-en-Provence; Edisud.
Murphy, Robert. 1967. Tuareg Kinship. American Anthropologist 66: 163–70.
Nicolaisen, Johannes. 1963. Ecology and Culture of the Pastoral Tuareg. Copenhagen: Royal
Museum.
Pettier, Jeanne. 1946. Legendes Touaregs. Paris: Nouvelles Editions Latines.
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Rasmussen, Susan. 1996. The Tent as Cultural Symbol and Field Site: Social and Symbolic Space,
Topos, and Authority in a Tuareg Community. Anthropological Quarterly 69:1:14–27.
——. 1997. The Poetics and Politics of Tuareg Aging Life Course and Personal Destiny in Niger.
De Kalb, Ill.: Northern Illinois University Press.
——. 2001. Healing in Community: Medicine, Contested Terrains, and Cultural Encounter Among
the Tuareg. Westport Ct., Bergin and Garvey.
SUSAN J.RASMUSSEN
See also Maghrib
PROVERBS
Pithy and terse sayings are very much appreciated in Africa. These gnomic utterances are
recognized as a distinct genre with a specific name in the local taxonomies of the written
and spoken word. The closest English equivalent is the proverb. While similar to the
genre in Europe, African proverbs emanate from a repertory preserved by the community
of speakers. Their form is elliptical and figurative, which easily allows for their
recognition in discourse.
The characteristic traits of the genre may vary from one society to the next, yet the
proverbs share a certain degree of similarity because of shared properties that confer a
relative homogeneity among them throughout the continent. There are similar properties
of content, which is understandable given the task of the proverb to express general truths
that are the fruits of experience of the society as a whole. In Africa, as elsewhere, these
universal “truths” can be of a practical, ethical, social, or philosophical nature.
What is nevertheless striking is the remarkable resemblance of themes and points of
view in collections of African proverbs, not only throughout the continent, but also with
respect to other civilizations. The same subjects are discussed, often in the same terms,
and despite certain specific tendencies, the homogeneity of the discourse is quite
remarkable. Africa hardly deviates from the rest of the world on this point, even if the
proverb sometimes refers to customs unfamiliar to other continents, such as polygyny.
The other properties that characterize the African proverb are likewise inherent in
what is universal in the genre. However, they sometimes display specific traits that allow
one to identify them as African.
Their stylistic properties conform more or less to their homologues from other
continents. In Africa, as elsewhere, the proverb can be recognized by its formulaic turn of
phrase, which is characterized by notable expressions. In many communities, the
giveaway of a terse and pithy utterance as belonging to the genre of proverb is
established straightaway by a formulaic introduction: “Our ancestors said that…” or “In
the past, it was said that…”
From a rhetorical perspective, the genre is identified by the frequency of binary
constructions, which creates a logical relationship between two statements, such as:
“Struck forehead, prudent neck.” Here the Dyula intend that the neck will learn to be
careful from the wound suffered by the head. This example also demonstrates that, like
its European homologue, the African proverb favors the ellipsis.
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Even when there is only one proposition, it generally brings to light a relationship of
symmetry, in one way or another, between a pivotal element and, for example, a verb:
“The brilliance of the sun eclipses the light of the moon” (Minianka, West Africa). These
phenomena of symmetry (e.g., parallelisms, chiasmus) are frequently reinforced by an
exploitation of the proverb’s sonority through rhymes, puns (paronomasia), alliteration,
and assonance, which are obviously apparent only if the proverb is expressed in its
language of origin.
The metaphorical dimension distinguishes the genre among many African societies in
an undoubtedly more systematic fashion than in Europe. The proverb is indeed
considered a saying that is necessarily circuitous, as it must certainly not express directly
what it has to say. Consequently, among the Manianka a gnomic saying that does not
contain an image or metaphor will not be included in the category of sanda, a term by
which the group designates the repertory of sayings that constitute the cultural heritage of
this group. The same is true of the nsana of the Bambara, the lantara of the Dyula, the
bitaru of the Kassena, the wo of the Ngbaka, and the cingala of the Vili. The genre thus
emerges as a verbal art form valorized by the staying power of its metaphors to express a
more general and abstract situation.
A few examples of Ngbaka wo, with possible explanations, illustrate the complexity of
some proverbs’ imagery, as well as the fundamental nature of their message. “The termite
has fooled everyone, but the day ends without his knowing it,” is an expression one might
use when someone has been fooled by a friend, but the day ends without the friend
realizing it, and yet retaliation is taken against the friend. The fragile nature of one’s
reputation is demonstrated by the proverb “You’re like the back hoof of a goat that erases
the imprint of the front hoof”—even if one is a good person, one bad action erases the
good. A third example, “To guard the child is not to change the mother,” is used to
comment on the persons who attribute to themselves actions that they have never
performed.
In Africa, the proverb is undoubtedly used more than in present-day Europe, where it
is rarely heard in conversation, and it is characterized by well-defined properties of
expression. The proverb is characterized by the interlocutors of this type of discourse: it
will always be uttered by the elders to the younger group members, who may themselves
reply with a proverb.
Proverbs are often encountered in everyday conversations among Africans, but they
can also have several ritualistic uses. In many African cultures, the proverb is
indispensable to customary judgment. Likewise, it is the centerpiece of verbal jousts in
which the two adversaries “exchange” proverbs that must progressively neutralize each
other. There is yet another rather widespread practice, reserved for the specialists,
consisting of reciting, in order, an entire repertory of proverbs with the help of a
“reminder” prop in the form of bits of gourds strung on a cord. This is referred to as a
“proverb cord.” Finally, the genre is characterized by its inclusion in most of the other
genres: folktales, chronicles, and epics are usually full of proverbs. As for sung genres,
some are nothing more than a string of proverbs set to music.
The last defining trait of the African proverb concerns its cultural function. As
witnesses and caretakers of the body of accumulated wisdom of the group, proverbs
express the norm, the point of view, and the philosophy of the group, taking into account
its tensions as well, since different proverbs can express contradictory theses. This
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function of the proverb with respect to the group is evident in the repertory of normative
and connotative formulaic expressions such as “it is necessary that…”; “better to…than
to…”; “do this,”; and “do not do this.”
The proverb in Africa is a highly valued mode of discourse that functions as an
indication of cultural status. In Europe, someone who uses or speaks in proverbs is likely
to be regarded as backward and intellectually limited for using hackneyed expressions
instead of having a more personal and original discourse. In African societies, on the
other hand, where an oral tradition of discourse exists and where memory is the sole
guarantee of conservation of this verbal culture, proverbs are held in esteem. The
individual who demonstrates a knowledge of proverbs distinguishes himself as the
inheritor of his ancestors’ cumulative wisdom, as well as a master of the poetic
dimension of the language. As the Nigerian novelist Chinua Achebe has pointed out,
according to the Igbo, “Proverbs are the palm oil which ‘seasons’ words.”
References
Thomas, J.M.C. Contes, proverbes, devinettes ou enigmes, chants et prieres Ngbaka Ma’bo.
JEAN DERIVE
See also Children’s Folklore; Riddles; Textile Arts and Communication
PROVERBS: SESOTHO PROVERBS
The Basotho people, of the kingdom of Lesotho in southern Africa, live not only in
Lesotho but also in the Free State Province and some parts of the Gauteng Province in the
Republic of South Africa. The word Sotho is derived from the Swazi word Abashuntu,
which refers to people who wore their loincloth with the knot tied at the back. It was a
nickname that later became Basotho. The term was later adopted by King Moshoeshoe I
as the unifying political term for his emerging kingdom in the nineteenth century.
Mosotho is the singular form of Basotho. Sesotho is the language, as well as any custom,
of the Basotho.
As among so many African peoples, the Basotho of southern Africa use proverbs
extensively. Sesotho proverbs are examples of stylized language expression. Maele is the
Sesotho term which refers to both proverbs and idioms, which are normally classified
under the same genre because they are similar communicative expressions. However,
scholars have shown that proverbs and idioms are distinct in that they differ from one
another in form and significance. Proverbs are fixed-form expressions, whereas idioms or
proverbial phrases are open or free-form proverbial phrases that can be extended or
changed in both number and tense during their application. Proverbs are normally used
by older and skillful members of the society in their daily interaction to impart authority
and truth to their utterances and communication.
Sesotho proverbs originate from observations of the community’s daily activities.
Proverbs deal with the wide spectrum of the people’s experience with the physical
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environment, including animal and plant life, as well as the people’s way of life,
attitudes, values, feelings, and emotions. While most proverbs are coined by an
individual, they eventually come to represent the wisdom of the group.
The meaning of Sesotho proverbs is best understood when they are studied in the
context of their actual use. The social factors surrounding the application of a particular
proverb may also clarify its meaning which, more often than not, is metaphorical or
figurative. An outsider’s initial understanding of a proverb might not be the meaning
intended by the Mosotho. Take, for example, the following proverb: Tsa ha se mele poea
(The site does not grow amarunthus). According to the situation, this proverb could be
used to communicate a positive or negative message by the speaker. And, demonstrating
a familiar phenomena, proverbs often convey opposite meanings. For example, “Tieho e
tsoala tahleho” (Hesitation begets loss) conveys exactly the opposite message of
“Mamello e tsoala katleho” (Patience begets success). The meaning of Sesotho proverbs,
therefore, is determined by the contextual usage when the speaker is communicating with
the audience in a particular situation.
Proverbs are regarded as vehicles of communication in dialogue, and their
performance entails the different levels at which they are applied in practical situations.
The first level occurs when circumstances trigger the use of a proverb. The second level
occurs when the participants or the audience respond to the use of a proverb in a way that
shows the proverb to be appropriate or inappropriate. The audience may sometimes
respond with another proverb that connotes either approval or disapproval of the
speaker’s proverb. For example, a speaker may assert “Marabe a jeoa ke bana” (Parents
make sacrifices for their children), which may elicit an opposing proverb, such as “E a
shoa, mahe a bole” (If a parent dies, the children suffer).
Sesotho proverbs are concise, pithy, reflective statements that are both simple and
complex, and that follow certain poetic patterns. They are composed in poetic language,
which makes them memorable to their users. This poetic language is governed by
metaphor, repetition, direct or indirect parallelism, elision, and omissions. The proverb
foregrounds itself through its structure and its connotative significance, and is governed
by its syntactic patterns and linguistic modifications coupled with tone and rhythm. They
compactly express large, abstract ideas or concepts.
The following illustrate the nature of the poetic devices of Sesotho proverbs.
Repetition: Motsoalle oa lesholu ke lesholu (A friend of a thief is a thief)
Tieho e tsoala tahleho (Hesitation begets loss)
Direct parallelism: Bo ts’oloa bo chesa, bo tsoha bo folile. (Tempers
cool with time)
Elision of prefix: (Se) Ts’a ha se mele poea (The site does not grow
amarunthus) (Le) Ts’oele le beta poho (A crowd can easily overpower a
bull)
Coalescence: Mesa-mohloane ha a panye (The locustroaster does not
blink)
A number of objectives encourage the use of proverbs. A speaker may choose to apply a
particular proverb from his repertoire to advise, console, or comment on socially accepted
norms. He or she may use a particular proverb to condemn those who deviate from the
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accepted societal norms. Being microtexts, proverbs may occur in macrotexts, where
their purpose would be to illuminate or enhance the theme, content, and style of those
texts.
The use of proverbs as social commentary use is demonstrated by the following
examples. In accepting a helping hand, one might say, “Ts’oele le beta poho” (A crowd
can easily overpower a bull). If a speaker disapproves of the relationship of a good person
with a bad person, he might observe “Motoalle oa lesholu ke lesholu” (A friend of a thief
is a thief).
Basotho use of proverbs continues, with new ones being created to express and come
to terms with contemporary issues and new technology. They are still employed today,
even though in some languages they may be regarded as archaic, with no place in modern
society.
References
Guma, S.M. 1992. The Form, Content, and Technique of Traditional Literature of Southern Sotho.
Pretoria: J.L.Van Schaik.
Mokitimi, M.I.P. 1997. The Voice of the People: Proverbs of Basotho. Pretoria: University of South
Africa.
——. 1998. A Literary Analysis of Ssotho Proverbs (maele). Pretoria: J.L.Van Schaik.
Okpewho, Isidore. 1993. African Oral Literature. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1993.
Sekese, A. 1978. Mekhoa le Maele a Basotho. Morija: Morija Sesotho Book Depot.
Yankah, K. 1989. The Proverb in the Context of Akan Rhetoric. New York: Peter Lang.
MAKALI I.MOKITIMI
See also Linguistics and African Verbal Arts; Riddles; Southern Africa
PUPPETRY
From Egypt to South Africa, and from Senegal to Tanzania, puppetry is a continental
phenomenon, with historical and contemporary puppet traditions performed in more than
forty African countries. African puppets take a variety of forms, including hand and toe
puppets, rod puppets, string puppets, shadow puppets, and full body puppets. They are
used in ritual contexts, as well as in games and in dramatic plays that are produced
primarily for entertainment. Puppets are also increasingly being used as part of an
educational outreach strategy to inform and instruct communities about a variety of
political, public health, and development issues.
History and Ritual
Historically, among a number of West and Central African peoples, puppets of various
degrees of complexity and elaboration played a significant role in divination rites.
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Among the Lobi and Birifor, in Cote d’Ivoire and Ghana, respectively, diviners used two
wooden figures, which they articulated by means of a string. The string passed through
the puppets and was secured to the toes of the diviner seated on the ground facing his
clients. As the diviner manipulated the puppets, he posed questions to the figures and
interpreted the answers by reading the puppet’s movements according to a designated
code. Songye diviners in the Congo (region) manipulated a carved wooden figure by
means of two strings that passed through the statue’s knees. The figure responded to the
diviner’s questions with yes or no answers. If the figure fell forward, the answer was
affirmative; if backwards, it was negative.
In searching out a guilty party by divination, Pende diviners from the Congo region
used a carved wooden head attached to a flexible lattice-stick frame. When divination
revealed the identity of the transgressor, the puppet shot forward in the direction of the
accused. In Ijebu Yoruba communities in Nigeria, a carved wooden puppet with one leg,
one arm, and one eye plays a central role in divination rituals surrounding Osanyin, the
god of herbalism. During the ritual, the puppet speaks with a highpitched squeak and
responds favorably (or not) to questions that the diviner poses about herbs, medicines,
and healing.
Puppets appear on other ritual occasions as well, including men’s and women’s
initiations and during funerals. Historically, among the Fang of Gabon, carved wooden
heads functioned as guardian figures placed on reliquary bundles in ancestor shrines.
During men’s initiation they were removed and used as puppets. The reliquary heads
appeared at the top of a cloth screen and danced to a musical accompaniment. During
Senufo male initiation in Cote d’Ivoire, the Kagba puppet masquerade performs. This rod
puppet represents the head of an antelope. The puppet head appears out of the front of a
costumed square armature meant to represent the animal’s body. The puppeteer hidden
underneath the costume raises and lowers the puppet head, twirls it around, and moves it
from side to side as the masquerade dances.
In Yoruba communities in western Nigeria and Benin, the Gelede ritual masquerades
honoring women often open with a short puppet performance. String puppets appear on a
platform and are operated from below. Later in the performance, masks with articulated
figures attached to the mask dance. In Mali, among the Bamana, some Komo men’s
associations use a rod puppet representing Komo during its annual masquerade ritual.
This wooden Komo head is an amalgamation of several animals, with antelope horns,
porcupine quills, and bird feathers attached to its surface. The Komo dancer-puppeteer
hidden within the animal’s costume manipulates the rod puppet head, sometimes
extending it six or more feet into the air, then pulling it down into the costume and close
to the ground in a dramatic display.
Elders among the Zaramo of Tanzania recall that small wooden puppet figures that
praised the deceased were once a central part of gravesite rites. In the Congo, during
funerals for chiefs, the Bwende danced a larger than life-sized cloth figure through the
community. This figure contained the mummified remains of the deceased. Dressed like a
chief with flexed arms and legs in a dance pose, the figure was manipulated from below
by six men as it moves through the village. When it stopped, everyone in the procession
would freeze, only to begin the dance again as the figure moved forward. Guns were fired
in praise of the deceased, women approached the figure to sing laments as he made his
way one last time through the community.
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In northern Togo, the Bassar continue to fashion a figure of plaited fiber to substitute
for the body of a deceased elder woman as part of her second funeral rites. During these
rites the puppet figure is carried to the deceased natal home by. women. The figure
directs its bearers as to the direction and the pace of their journey, sometimes directing
the bearers to walk sedately, at other times directing them to break into a fast walk, or
even to run.
Puppets as Entertainment
Some puppets once performed on ritual occasions have now been incorporated into
entertainment events. For example, in the opening decades of the twentieth century the
Kuyu and Mbochi living in Brazzaville used a finely carved and painted dummy-head
puppet in divination and for ritual dances. By the 1960s the performance had become a
popular competition, primarily defined as an entertainment. During the dance
competition, the puppeteers raise and lower the dummy heads while whirling in a tight
circle.
A Bamana youth association puppet
masquerade from the Segou region in
Mali. The large rod puppet animal
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head represents Sigi, the bush buffalo.
Out of its back several small rod
puppets appear, representing people
engaged in daily activities. Photo ©
Mary Jo Arnoldi.
Similarly, Ekon society puppets, once used by the Ibibio for divination and in men’s
initiation rites, are performed today in satiric skits. These carved wooden-rod puppets
have articulated jaws and limbs and represent both sexes and all ages and social groups.
Manipulated from below, the puppets emerge from the top of, and from behind, a cloth
stage. The skits have no narrative plot, but consist of a series of monologues or dialogues.
The majority of the characters represent social types, although only rarely are individuals
represented. The skits deal with family discord, adultery, political corruption, religious
frauds, and excesses.
Other puppet traditions, like those performed in Egypt, Tunisia, and Algeria, and
among the Bamana in Mali, the Tiv in Nigeria, and the Kanuri and Hause in Nigeria,
Niger, and Chad, originated as popular entertainment forms. The shadow puppet plays
performed in North Africa are believed to have developed in Egypt and Turkey in the
eleventh and twelfth centuries. These plays still include the exploits of the popular
character, Kharagoz. Dating from at least the nineteeth century, Kanuri and Hausa
itinerant puppeteers use hand puppets in satiric performances. Plays include the exploits
of the coquette, the trickster, the foreign woman, the greedy man, and the charlatan,
among others.
Puppets of the pantin type, popular in Europe in the nineteenth century, were also
incorporated into festivals and masquerades along the coast of West Africa. In Senegal,
pantin puppets (xouss-maniap in Wolof) were carved of wood and painted with their
limbs articulated by strings. They were performed during the Lantern festivals that took
place at Christmas. Placards that carried a variety of messages were added to these
carnivalesque figures. In the 1950s, in the years leading up to independence, the festival
and the puppets were banned for a number of years because the messages the puppets and
floats carried became more strident and carried political party slogans. Among the
Bamana living in the Segou region in Mali, young men’s associations stage annual
festivals that include both puppets and masks. The puppet repertoire consists of rod
puppets, dummy heads, miniaturized rod and string puppets, and an occasional hand
puppet. Like the Ekon puppet skits, there is no narrative plot; each character performs
individually. In the ninetieth century, animal and spirit characters predominated, but by
the 1920s characters representing different social types began to gain prominence in the
theater. The song sung for each puppet masquerade includes the character’s name, a
praise line, and a reference to some quality or behavior associated with this animal, spirit,
or personage. The audience brings to the event their knowledge of folktales, legends, and
historical epics. Phrases in the songs make reference to this rich body of oral literature.
Bamana puppet troupes have regularly participated in regional and national arts festivals,
and several local troupes have traveled abroad. The puppet masquerades have also been
incorporated into the repertoire of the National Theatre and performances can now
occasionally be seen on Malian television.
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The Kwagh-hir puppet masquerade is a more recent performance form created by the
Tiv in Nigeria. The genre seems to have emerged in the mid-twentieth century and is a
combination of two distinct Tiv traditions: storytelling and men’s masquerades. The
puppets appear in vignettes and include characters such as Mami Wata, a female water
spirit, the woman grinding grain, the man smoking a cigarette, musicians, and disco
dancers. Hunting scenes, executions of criminals, and Catholic priests conducting
religious services may be included as well as various animals, such as birds and tortoises.
Characters and scenes from folktales are interspersed with vignettes that make a
commentary on the contemporary scene. A narrator introduces the vignette and the scene
to be played, and the puppets perform to a chorus of songs and drumming. These puppet
skits are interspersed with other masquerade performances, the two elements constituting
the Kwagh-hir event. Like the Bamana troupes, Tiv troupes compete in regional and
national arts festivals. Their performances have been aired on the national television
network, and some troupes have performed internationally.
There are also a growing number of newer urban-based puppeteers and puppet troupes
in Mali, Togo, Benin, the Cote d’Ivoire, Burundi, the Democratic Republic of the Congo,
South Africa, and elsewhere. While many of these troupes draw upon local puppet
traditions for inspiration, they tend to be highly innovative in their performances. Their
plays have a well-developed narrative plot line and are often produced from written
scripts, rather than proceeding as conventionalized short skits and vignettes. Some
troupes, such as the Troupe Sogolon in Bamako, Mali; THEMAZ in the Democratic
Republic of the Congo; Troupe de la Savane in Bujumbura, Burundi; and the Togolese
puppeteers DANAYA Kanlanfei and Massimo-Wanssi have introduced string
marionettes borrowed from European puppet traditions into their repertoires. These
troupes perform their plays in a variety of urban venues, including cultural centers,
schools and libraries, and on national television.
Increasingly, puppets are also being used in countries like Mali, Botswana, Zimbabwe,
South Africa, and elsewhere in popular plays that are part of community outreach efforts.
These plays are performed in cities and in rural areas in order to raise awareness of AIDS
prevention, encourage participation in immunization campaigns, inform people about
strategies to fight deforestation, and to encourage voter registration.
References
Arnoldi, Mary Jo. 1995. Playing with Time Art and Performance in Central Mali. Bloomington:
Indiana University Press.
Dagan, E.A. 1990. Emotions in Motion Theatrical Puppets and Masks from Black Africa. Montreal:
Galerie Amrad African Arts.
Darkowska-Nidzgorska, Olenka. 1980. Theatre populaire de marionnettes en Afrique sudSaharienne. Bandundu, Zaire: Centre d’Etudes Ethnologiques.
Hagher, Iyorwuese Harry. 1990. The Tiv Kwagh-hir. Lagos, Nigeria: Center for Black and African
Arts and Civilization.
Malkin, Michael. 1977. Traditional and Folk Puppets of the World. South Brunswick, N.J.:
A.S.Barnes.
Scheinberg, Alfred. 1978. Ekon Society Puppets: Sculptures for Social Criticism. New York: Tribal
Arts Gallery II.
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Thompson, Robert Farris. 1975. Icons of the Mind: Yoruba Herbalism Arts in Trans-Atlantic
Perspective. African Arts 8, no. 3:(Spring): 52–9, 89.
——. 1988. Unima informations special: l’Afrique noir e marionettes. Charleville-Mezieres:
Presses de L’Imprimerie de Nevers.
MARY JO ARNOLDI
See also Drama; Performance in Africa; Theater
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Q
QUEEN MOTHERS
Queen mothers of Africa, warrior queens, and many other titled women have held
positions of authority and exercised leadership throughout the history of African
societies. The fearless Queen Njinga of Ndongo and Matamba (Angola), who dominated
international politics and led her people against the Portuguese in the seventeenth
century, and the courageous queen mother Yaa Asantewaa, who inspired and led the
Asante of Ghana against the British in 1900, are representative of women who led the
opposition to Western occupation. Although it was their leadership in warfare that
endowed these women with a place in history, the authority they wielded was based on
the position they occupied.
Dual-Gender Systems
Most African societies define a specific position of authority for a woman, and through it
women may play a significant role in political leadership. Like male leaders, these
women are chosen from a select group of individuals who occupy a privileged position in
a hierarchical society. While matrilineal societies afford women leaders greater authority
than patrilineal ones, royal women generally hold positions of authority in the latter as
well. The term dual-gender system refers to those societies in which the political system
includes one or two female leaders who occupy positions of authority in parallel with the
male leader, usually considered a chief or a king. These female roles are complementary
to, rather than the same as, the male roles in their functions. In many societies a woman
who qualifies for the position of female authority can also assume the male position, that
of chief, should circumstances favor that solution. She often occupies the position as a
regent, but in some instances she assumes the position permanently.
A significant number of precolonial societies were structured on this dual-gender
principle, but the changes resulting from colonization and modernization have weakened
the role of female authority considerably, and in many instances it has disappeared or
survives only as a vestige of the earlier one. In her impressive 1971 survey article, “The
Role of Women in the Political Organization of African Societies,” Annie M.D.Lebeuf
acknowledges the wide variety of indigenous political systems found throughout Africa
and discusses the many examples of powerful women who exercise leadership through
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their positions of authority. Notable among precolonial systems, and the one that seems
to have the greatest continuity into the present, is the system based on joint sovereignty.
In some examples a female and a male represented sovereign authority (a king and a
woman of high rank), and in others this authority consisted of a king and two women.
Generally defined in terms of kinship, the woman in the dual-gender system represented
the figure of mother, whether or not she was the biological mother of the king. When two
women represented female authority, one usually represented the mother and the second
one would likely be classified as sister of the king. The majority of the societies with
joint sovereignty are matrilineal, though some patrilineal societies have specific roles of
authority defined for royal women.
The term queen mother often raises objections in Africa today, because it does not
represent a direct translation from the native language of any society; nevertheless it is
the term widely used in English to describe the female counterpart to the chief throughout
Africa. In contemporary African societies, the term will likely translate as aunt-nephew,
uncle-niece, sister-brother, or cousin. Though rare, the literal relationship of biological
mother and son does still occur among African rulers, as it has most recently in the case
of the Asante, in which the Asantehemaa is the actual mother of the Asantehene,
enthroned in 1999. In most instances, however, the female ruler is regarded as a
metaphorical mother, and she advises and guides the chief in all affairs. For this reason,
perhaps, the term for these female leaders has most often been translated as queen
mother.
Each society defines the role of female authority, or queen mother, with particular
practices that may differ from those in other societies. Yet, there are a cluster of
characteristics that are widely associated with the role wherever it occurs in Africa. These
concern the relationship between the queen mother and her chief, their complementary
duties and responsibilities, the space they occupy, and the conceptualization of the roles.
The two leaders are expected to work together for the welfare of their communities, but
they each have their own stool, the symbol of authority. Though they must belong to the
same kin group, they are each selected at separate moments in time, on the basis of their
own qualifications for leadership from among those who qualify for the position. (A
queen mother is not a wife to the male leader.) Their dual leadership operates, then, in
parallel.
Motherhood
The concept of motherhood, a powerful force in African societies, shapes the role of
queen mother and many of its functions. Especially important in this capacity, the queen
mother has responsibility for the welfare of women in her domain. While the functions
vary from one society to the next, this responsibility may extend to the supervision of
women’s labor, and it almost certainly determines that queen mothers are important
figures in dispute settlement. Women, and sometimes men, bring disputes and conflicts
arising from everyday life to the queen mother for litigation and resolution.
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Political Roles
To some observers, the queen mother’s most significant political role concerns the
selection of a new chief. Most societies organized on a dual-gender system endow the
queen mother with a major role in selecting a new chief. Depending on the particular
society, and also on the traditions of specific locations, the new chief may be determined
because he is the son of a queen mother, but in some societies she must nominate an
individual from her kin group to the elders for the position of chief, even though she has
the option to nominate her own son in many instances. Once the new chief has been
agreed upon by the queen mother and her elders, he will undergo the important rituals
that will confirm him as king or chief. From that time forward the queen mother will
advise him on political matters, as well as those concerning religion, custom, and law.
Among the most essential of the queen mother’s duties will be the performance of
powerful rituals honoring her ancestors and the deities of her culture. Consistent with
traditional religious practices in each location, such rituals are generally believed to
provide protection for her people, and will probably be performed in her palace, if she
has one, or in the compound of her kin group. Queen mothers have their own palaces, or
compounds, where they live and hold court, resolve disputes, and may provide protection
for individuals who are at risk of losing their lives. In addition to her own space, a queen
mother will have her own entourage and household servants. As the female leader in her
society, the queen mother enjoys many privileges and assumes many responsibilities.
This position extends to the domain of marriage and sexuality. Generally, queen mothers
are allowed to exercise sexual freedom, much the same as royal males—and unlike other
women of her society. Economically, both the chief and queen mother should receive
support from the financial resources of the royal position. These may include the
resources of specific villages or lands that have been designated for the queen mother or
chief.
While female leaders have received scant attention from scholars and writers, a careful
search nevertheless reveals that this institution is quite widespread throughout subSaharan Africa. In some cases, female leaders may have ceased to exist, but were strong
institutions in the past, having been destroyed by colonization and modernization. Other
societies may have continued the institution, but they may be only barely visible to
outsiders. A few societies discontinued the practice and have now reconstituted it. In a
few instances, among the Akan of Ghana, in particular, the institution has been
continuous through time with no breaks in history, though it must be emphasized that all
institutions of female leadership were affected negatively by colonialism.
Among those societies that are believed to have functioned with dual-gender systems
in the past was Ruanda (now Ruanda), where the mother of the king shared
responsibilities of power with him. In another example, the Bemba of Zambia define a
female ruler who is either the mother or the oldest uterine relative of the king. She
participates in tribal councils, governs several villages, and enjoys sexual freedom. Also
regarded as the mother of the kingdom is the female leader of the Lunda of the
Democratic Republic of the Congo. A kinswoman of the chief, she takes part in the
administration, has her own court and her own officials, and collects her own taxes.
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In Cameroon, the queen mother (mafo) of the Bamileke, who is the mother of the fong,
or mfong (the chief), has been considered by some scholars to be an equal to him. She has
her own residence and her own estates (which can serve as refuge, since they are outside
the jurisdiction of the king), and she directs female activities, which, because the women
are the farmers, means that she controls the agriculture of the whole community. She
takes part in the administrative council and presides over the women’s secret societies.
Like many other queen mothers, she can exercise sexual freedom. Her children belong to
her and not to the father, as do other children of the society.
Among the neighboring Kom, one of the independent kingdoms of the Tikar people,
the queen mother’s position is very similar to that described above for the Bamileke, who
share the Cameroonian grasslands with the Tikar. The Kom are a matrilineal society,
however, unlike most of the other Tikar and Bamileke, who are patrilineal in descent.
The nafoyn (queen mother) was usually not married, but enjoyed the privileges of sexual
freedom, according to Paul Nkwi. Moreover, some scholars argue that she had the choice
of whether or not to have a husband. Her children belonged to her and not to their father.
This situation has been explained in terms of a mid-nineteenth-century decree prohibiting
queen mothers from marrying. Intended to counter the implications of brideprice (a fee
paid at the time of marriage by the husband) that endowed the husband with rights over
the children, the decree ensured that no man/ husband/father could marry a woman who
might become the mother of a Fon (king), and thus create the situation where a man
would have the right to command obedience from the king because of the conditions of
marriage. Eugenia Shanklin reports that the queen mother of the present day continues to
direct women as a workforce on her farms, adding to her economic power. Among the
queen mother’s responsibilities, her ritual duties are particularly important. The
significance of her ritual powers serves as strong evidence for the argument that
complementarity was, and continues to be, the organizing principle for the ritual sphere
in Kom society. Complementarity in one domain suggests the same in other domains,
including the political, especially since sources have reported that in the past the queen
mother sat with village leaders and challenged them at times. Considering the full range
of a queen mother’s powers, the argument that the Kom were organized by a dual-gender
system seems persuasive. In the past, according to Caroline Ifeka Grassfield, royal
women were more visibly powerful than they are today. The royal women of Bamum,
like the royal men, killed fearlessly and were killed. Among the Nso’, queen mothers
perform a variety of constitutional functions including the role of interrex. More
importantly, Caroline Ifeka emphasizes that a dual-gender system, based on a
complementarity of both mystical and political power, defines the entire Nso’ social
system, encompassing all ranks from commoners, who use titles to demonstrate respect to
the “mother” (yeela’) and “father” (taala’) of the compound, to the Fon and his queen
mother (yeefon), who is his real mother.
Swaziland
Especially well known among the queen mothers of Africa is the mother of the king in
Swaziland, the Ndlovukazi (also called the Indlovukati). Like other queen mothers, she
has her own residence, her own court and officials, and functions in complementary
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relations to the king. Metaphors for her include the Great She Elephant, the Earth, the
Beautiful, and the Mother of the Country, while the king is the Lion, the Sun, and the
Great Wild Animal. The king owes his position to the queen mother, usually his
biological mother. She is expected to train him and hand over power to him when he
reaches maturity. In spite of their close relationship, they serve as a check on each other’s
powers. Hilda Kuper in her book The Swazi (1963), described the political structure of
the Swazi as a dual monarchy, a system in which the power and privilege of each
monarch is held in check by the other. For example, the male monarch is revitalized in
the annual ritual of kingship, which is held at the home of the queen mother. Moreover,
he is entitled to use the royal cattle, but if he wastes the national wealth she can rebuke
him publicly. Mahmood Mamdani also notes the restriction placed on administrative
authority when he describes the queen mother’s position as strategic enough to act as a
check on any absolutist royal pretensions the king might develop. For example, in the
past the king controlled the army, but the commander-in-chief resided at the queen
mother’s village.
The Ndlovukazi can act as regent, in place of a dead king, until a new one is prepared
to assume the position. During a particularly crucial era in Swazi history (1889–1921),
the queen mother, Labotsibeni Mdluli, held this position for a lengthy period and was in
full charge of the political affairs of the polity. Described as “a woman of outstanding
intellect” and “the shrewdest and most astute of the Regents who ever controlled the
destinies of the Swazis,” she is credited with having protected the Swazi from the
colonial powers during this period, and with bringing new order and strength to the
monarchy. She also laid the groundwork for independence, so that when her grandson,
Sobhuza II, became king he could bring the country to independence in 1968.
The Kpojito of the Fon
History points to the Kpojito as one of the most interesting queen mothers of the past.
The female leader in the Fon kingdom of Dahomey (dated from the seventeenth century
until the dissolution of its monarchy by the French in 1900), she was the wealthy and
powerful double of the King of Dahomey. Accord ing to Edna Bay, the term Kpojito
translates as the one who whelped the leopard (the leopard represents the king), but she
was not necessarily the biological mother of the king. She could hear appeals from the
court of the minister of religion, with final appeal to the king himself, and she acted as
intercessor with the king, pleading on behalf of his subjects. She had her own entourage,
but she was forbidden all contact with men. Supported by tributary villages and
plantations of slaves, she was reported to be very wealthy. After death, a female
descendant in her family of birth replaced her, and she was honored in annual rituals.
Benin
In another of the historical West African kingdoms, Benin, queen mothers exercised
impressive power. According to Paula Ben-Amos the Iyoba (queen mother) of the Edospeaking peoples of southwestern Nigeria was considered one of the senior chiefs, or
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Town Chiefs, and had her own palace and court. The first Iyoba of Benin was Idia, the
mother of the Oba, or king of Benin, who reigned from 1504–1550 (Kaplan 1997). Often
described as the only woman who went to war, oral tradition credits her with having
raised an army and employing magical powers to aid her son in defeating his enemies.
However, a special problem developed in Benin. According to Bay, the king was
considered to be divine, and therefore he could not prostrate himself before any person;
yet a child was required to subordinate himself before his or her mother. The resolution
of this problem was that the queen mother and her son, the king, could never see each
other after he became king, though she is believed to have exercised considered political
power from her palace.
Many other West African societies also operated with dual-gender systems,
characterized by queen mothers or female leaders, prior to colonialism. Of particular note
were the female leaders among the Igbo, known as the omu (the male leader was the obi).
Kamene Okonjo (1976) tells us that the omu, like the male obi, had her own cabinet of
counselors (generally women), and they could challenge male authority if necessary.
Among the duties of the female leader and her counselors was oversight of the
community market, a predominantly female space. Their oversight included judging
cases of dispute that occurred in the market. The precolonial Yoruba also recognized
female leaders, although they were a patrilineal society. Many women were endowed
with the title Iyalode (a woman designated as a political leader) for their contribution to
war efforts. The Iyalode, like the Igbo omu, was considered the head of market women,
but the title indicates responsibilities much broader than just the market. It translates to
“mother in charge of external affairs” (Awe 1977, 144). And indeed, the Iyalode of each
town was a chief in her own right, with her own servants, drummers, and bell ringers, and
she held jurisdiction over all women. (Each Yoruba town created a more specific title as
well for their female leader.) She seems to have acquired her office through achievement
as a leader, rather than through heredity. Women brought their quarrels to her court for
resolution, and she met with groups of women to determine their stand on various
political and economic issues.
Among the matrilineal Akan of Ghana, the queen mother (ohemaa) is a thriving
institution in contemporary society. As with the examples cited above, the queen mothers
of the Akan have suffered a loss of power since colonialism because the colonial forces
failed to recognize female authority. Yet, Akan queen mothers have unbroken continuity
with the past, and they continue to exercise their authority in Ghana today, especially in
the Asante region (Stoeltje 1997; 1998). In fact, the dual-gender system has proven to be
so attractive that neighboring patrilineal societies, ones that have never had queen
mothers (the Ga and the Ewe), began to create the position during the 1990s.
The Asante
The Asante (the largest of the Akan societies) replicate this dual-gender system
throughout the Asante region, so that every paramountcy is led by a queen mother and
chief (ohemaa and ohene), and every village and town has both a chief and a queen
mother (odikro and oba panin). The Asantehene and the Asantehemaa are the king and
queen mother of the Asante, and they occupy the position of greatest authority. Next in
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the hierarchical system are the paramountcies, each of which has a powerful chief and
queen mother. Small towns and villages are located within a division and serve a
particular paramountcy, but each of them has its own chief and queen mother.
Consequently, Ghana has many queen mothers of differing status. To explain that a chief
and queen mother each have their own authority, it is said that the chief and the queen
mother each have their own stool. The stool is the symbol of authority in all Akan
societies, functioning much like a throne for European monarchies.
A queen mother of the Asante (and the other Akan groups) is considered to be the
mother of the chief and of the particular clan and community, whether or not she is the
biological mother of the chief. Therefore, like the queen mothers of other societies, she
has specific responsibilities associated with the roles of mothers and female leaders.
When the position of chief becomes vacant, she nominates an individual from the royal
family to become the new chief. Her nomination goes to the elders of the royal family,
and ultimately to the subchiefs (who represent the clans other than the clan of the royal
family). Once the new chief has been enstooled, the queen mother is expected to advise
him, drawing upon her wisdom and knowledge, and he is expected to consult her. Her
responsibilities also encompass the welfare of the women in her domain. One of her
major responsibilities includes the settlement of disputes. The Asantehemaa maintains
her own court, with elders (predominantly male) that meets once a week to hear cases
brought primarily by women concerning the conflicts of everyday life. Other queen
mothers hear cases as well, but with a smaller court. A queen mother has her own living
space separate from the chief, and she will meet with people to resolve disputes and
conduct other business at her own “palace.”
A queen mother and a chief must both be members of the same royal family, so they
will be sister and brother, uncle and niece, aunt and nephew, cousins, or distant relatives,
and in some instances, mother and son. Queen mothers are not only expected to have
children, but it is unlikely that a woman would be chosen, from among those qualified,
for the position if she did not have children, because of the importance of the concept as
well as the reality, of motherhood. However, a queen mother need not be married. She
may also divorce, and she may remarry if she wishes. Unlike every other woman, a queen
mother can exercise freedom in matters of sexuality, whether or not she is married. In this
domain, as in other domains of her life, she has autonomy. Her position as symbolic
mother of the clan and of the chief, and her position as procreator, is enhanced by her
autonomy with regard to matters of sexuality, procreation, and marriage. These combine
with her political, ritual, and juridical authority to create a position (like that of chief),
that integrates elements of kinship, politics, and religion, creating strong positions of
traditional leadership that have endured, with modification, through colonization and
modernization.
Most African societies display flexibility, adaptability, and even creativity in their
political and religious systems. This can certainly be observed in regard to the Asante. It
is illustrated by the fact that some of the most well-educated and wealthy individuals in
the society also hold positions as chiefs. The king of the Asante, Osei Tutu II, enstooled
as Asantehene in 1999, was an active and well-educated businessman in London when he
was nominated by the Asantehemaa, his biological mother, for the position.
Enthusiastically received by the Asante people, he has established an educational fund for
the enhancement of the schools in Asante and has given it a high priority.
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Although queen mothers have not enjoyed the same privileges of education that their
male counterparts have, the culture is now encouraging education and is placing educated
women on the stool as queen mothers whenever possible. Due to contemporary
influences, then, it is not unusual today to observe queen mothers participating in efforts
to bring education to illiterate queen mothers, to support young women’s football teams,
or to organize events that illustrate the need for planned parenthood. In contemporary
African societies, the role of traditional authority seems to be expanding as indigenous
systems exercise flexibility in regard to modernization, and as the state slowly recognizes
the need to cooperate with traditional systems. It appears that the twenty-first century
version of this encounter may be more hospitable to female authority than the colonial
encounter, with the value of queen mothers as female leaders being recognized in the
indigenous sociopolitical system.
References
Aidoo, Agnes Akosua. 1982. Asante Queen Mothers in Government and Politics in the Nineteenth
Century. In The Black Woman Cross-Culturally, ed. F.C.Steady. Cambridge, Mass: Schenkman.
Awe, Bolanle. 1977. The Iyalode in the Traditional Yoruba Political System. In Sexual
Stratification, ed. Alice Schlegel. New York: Columbia University Press.
Bascom, William. 1973. African Art in Cultural Perspective. New York: Norton.
Bay, Edna. 1997. The Kpojito or “Queen Mother” of Precolonial Dahomey. In Queens, Queen
Mothers, Priestesses, and Power, ed. Flora Kaplan. New York: New York Academy of
Sciences.
——. 1998. Wives of the Leopard. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press.
Ben-Amos, Paula Girshick. 1983. In Honor of Queen Mothers. In The Art of Power/The Power of
Art, ed. P.Ben-Amos and A. Rubin. Los Angeles: Museum of Culture History, UCLA.
Feeley-Harnik, Gillian. 1997. Dying Gods and Queen Mothers: The International Politics of Social
Reproduction in Africa and Europe. In Gendered Encounters, ed. Maria Grosz-Ngate and Omari
H.Kokole. New York: Routledge.
Farrar, Tarikhu. 1997. The Queenmother, Matriarchy, and the Question of Female Political
Authority in Precolonial West African Monarchy. Journal of Black Studies 27, no. 5:579–597.
Ginindza, Thoko. 1997. Labotsibeni/Gwamile Mduli: The Power behind the Swazi Throne 1875–
1925. In Queens, Queen Mothers, Priestesses, and Power, ed. Flora Kaplan. New York: New
York Academy of Sciences.
Ifeka, Caroline. The Mystical and Political Powers of Queen Mothers, Kings, and Commoners in
Nso’, Cameroon. In Persons and Powers of Women in Diverse Cultures, ed. Shirley Ardener.
New York: Berg.
Kaplan, Flora. 1997. Iyoba, The Queen Mother of Benin. In Queens, Queen Mothers, Priestesses,
and Power, ed. Flora Kaplan. New York: New York Academy of Sciences.
Kuper, Hilda. 1947. An African Aristocracy: Rank Among the Swazi. New York: Holmes and
Meier.
——. 1963. The Swazi. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston.
——. 1978. Sobhuza II: Ngwenyama and King of Swaziland. New York: Holmes and Meier.
Lebeuf, Annie. 1971. The Role of Women in the Political Organization of African Societies. In
Women of Tropical Africa, ed. Denise Paulme. Berkeley: University of California Press.
Mamdani, Mahmood. 1996. Citizen and Subject. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press.
Nkwi, Paul Nchoji. 1974. The Origin of Kom Matrilineal Institutions. In Symposium Leo
Frobenius. Deutesche UNESCO Kommission. Koln: Verlag Dokumentation.
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O’Barr, Jean. 1984. African Women in Politics. In African Women South of the Sahara, ed.
Margaret Jean Hay and Sharon Stichter. New York: Longman.
Okonjo, Kamene. 1976. The Dual Sex Political System in Operation. In Women in Africa, ed.
Nancy J. Hafkin and Edna G.Bay. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press.
Stoeltje, Beverly J. 1997. Asante Queen Mothers. In Queens, Queen Mothers, Priestesses, and
Power, ed. Flora Kaplan. New York: New York Academy of Sciences.
——. 1995. Asante Queenmothers: A Study in Identity and Continuity. In Gender and Identity in
Africa, ed. Mechtild Reh and Gudrun Ludwar-Ene. Bayreuth: Lit Verlag.
Shanklin, Eugenia. 1991. Women of Power, The Power of Women. Paper delivered to African
Studies Association meetings, St. Louis, Mo.
Wipper, Audrey. 1984. Women’s Voluntary Associations. In African Women South of the Sahara.
New York: Longman.
BEVERLY J.STOELTJE
See also Ancestors; Chief; Gender Representation in African Folklore; History
and Culture: The Ashanti
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R
RADIO AND TELEVISION DRAMA
Many African radio stations were first set up in the 1920s, but they did not carry
extensive programming specifically designed for African listeners until the early 1940s.
African television stations were first established in the late 1950s. Drama programs in
both African and European languages have been an important part of broadcasting
content since colonial times.
Dramas are among the most popular of all broadcast genres. Successful dramas draw
some of the most devoted audiences, and are typically equaled only by the broadcast of
soccer matches and presidential press conferences in their ability to attract very large
audiences. For example, in South Africa, Zulu musical dramas based on folk songs were
first aired in the mid-1940s and have aired regularly since the late 1950s. One of the
longest running radio dramas can be heard on Radio Zambia. Entitled Malikopo, this
Tonga language program about the adventures and mishaps of an urban man began in the
late 1940s, and continues to air to this day.
The form and content of African radio and television dramas are quite diverse, as are
the inspirational sources for these creative works. Some programs are dramatizations of
traditional folktales and myths. Others are broadcast versions of original works, which
were first scripted and produced for the theater, or which first appeared as novels. In
addition, countless dramas are written explicitly for television and radio. Many are longrunning serials, with a melodramatic (or soap operalike) plot construction. One of the
first serial dramas on South African radio, Deliwe, ran for twenty-five episodes in March
1964, and was followed by a fifty-nine-episode sequel two months later.
Melodrama plots typically revolve around unfolding personal relationships, marriage
and romance, power struggles, schemes for financial success, rivalries between families,
moral transgressions, and stories about ambition and betrayal. One example from Egypt
is the long running serial Hilmiyya Nights, which aired every year between 1988 and
1992 during the Muslim holy month of Ramadan. This immensely popular television
show told the story of the intertwined lives and fortunes of a group of characters over a
forty-year period. A hybrid product reflecting the influence of imported melodramas from
Latin America and the United States, Hilmiyya Nights was distin guished for its
glamorous and fashionable women characters and its lavish sets.
In addition to melodramas, numerous other dramatic genres are represented in African
broadcasting, including comedy, romance, suspense, social realism, myths, and historical
drama. Recent examples include a feminist Egyptian television serial in Arabic about a
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women’s retirement home, a comic Zambian radio drama in Bemba about the exploits of
an urban playboy, a multilingual South African television drama with health education
messages, and a Nigerian situation comedy in Nigerian English about household servants
and their corrupt employers.
For many media professionals, drama is not just a form of entertainment, but a vehicle
for social and political communication. Many dramas convey, for example, the
importance of good citizenship, formal education, literacy, and the appreciation of the
arts. Others present challenges to those in power, through commentary on oppressive
political conditions or social inequalities. Such messages tend to be conveyed indirectly,
through multiple layers of meaning and allegorical characterizations. Despite the high
degree of media surveillance by contemporary African states, these dramas with critical
messages often escape censorship due to indirection, as well as other complex linguistic
nuances which may not be understood by the censors.
In recent years, radio and television dramas have been used to educate people about
family planning and about HIV/AIDS. One example is the Tanzanian radio soap opera
entitled Twende na Wakati (Let’s Be Modern). Episodes depict the outcomes of different
lifestyle choices and health attitudes, and focus in particular on the positive values of
monogamy, spousal communication, joint decision making, and safe sex. The story is
structured around three basic character types: positive and negative role models, who
embrace or reject, respectively, the educational messages of the program, and transitional
characters, who undergo a positive attitudinal and behavioral change over the course of
several episodes.
Soul City, an immensely popular South African-produced TV serial, is another
example of a program that addresses health issues through the format of social realist
drama. Themes such as smoking, HIV/AIDS, childcare, and domestic violence are
depicted within the context of the unfolding lives of the main characters. The program is
also distinguished for its use of lan-guage, which mirrors urban realities. Characters are
multilingual and South African English is heard alongside languages such as isiZulu and
SeSotho. Set mainly in a community clinic, Soul City represents a very interesting hybrid
genre as it incorporates visual and narrative elements from American hospital
melodrama, Hollywood thrillers, glamorous American soap operas, and didactic theaterfor-development.
A great deal of entertainment content on African radio and television is imported from
the United States, and from Western European nations, and to a lesser extent from Latin
America, India, and the Middle East. Particularly when it comes to television in Africa,
one finds that a very high percentage of drama programming is not locally produced;
rather, it comes from outside sources. One very popular American import across Africa is
the soap opera, The Bold and the Beautiful, set in the Los Angeles fashion world. Both
male and female fans in Egypt are reported to have become enamored with the
characters, making discussion of their lives, looks, and fates part of everyday
conversation. Women viewers in South Africa seem to embrace the program for many of
the same reasons as viewers worldwide: it depicts a glamorous fantasy world that one can
escape into. But South African women also see The Bold and the Beautiful as a vehicle
for thinking about their own lives. They are particularly drawn to the strong female
characters in the program and they relate the actions and choices of different characters to
those of people that they know.
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Some critics of radio and television dramas in Africa worry that they have replaced
older forms of entertainment, such as listening to elders tell traditional stories or to
musicians sing about folk heroes. They fear the erosion of traditional culture and the
influx of foreign influences. Others have argued that, in many cases, older forms of
entertainment were available only to men and thus the availability of dramatic
entertainment for wider audiences on television and radio is a welcome development.
Drama on African radio and television brings to the forefront important social issues that
can be engaged and reflected upon. It allows for a new type of creativity to flourish, one
that incorporates both modern and timeless themes, as well as newer and more traditional
storytelling devices. And finally, radio and television dramas in African languages are
vital for promoting the continued use and value of these languages. This is a particularly
pressing issue, as European languages (typically English, French, or Portuguese) are used
pervasively by most African radio and television stations, and are also accorded very high
prestige through other dominant institutions of society such as education and government.
References
Abu-Lughod, Lila. 1995. The Objects of Soap Operas. In Worlds Apart: Modernity Through the
Prism of the Local, ed. Daniel Miller. London: Routledge.
Abu-Lughod, Lila. 1997. The Interpretation of Culture(s) after Television. Representations 59:109–
34.
Barber, Karin. 2000. The Generation of Plays: Yorùbá Popular Life in Theater. Bloomington and
Indianapolis: Indiana University Press.
Coplan, David. 1985. In Township Tonight!: South Africa’s Black City Music and Theatre. London,
New York: Longman.
Gunner, Liz. 2000. Wrestling with the Present, Beckoning to the Past: Contemporary Zulu Radio
Drama. Journal of Southern African Studies 26, no. 2:223–37.
Kruger, Loren. 1999. Theater for Development and TV Nation: Notes on an Educational Soap
Opera in South Africa. Research in African Literatures 30, no. 4:106–26.
Lyons, Andrew P. and Harriet D. Lyons. 1985. “Return of the Ikoi-koi”: Manifestations of
Liminality on Nigerian Television. Anthropologica 27, no. 1–2:55–78.
Lyons, Andrew P. 1990. The Television and the Shrine: Towards a Theoretical Model for the Study
of Mass Communications in Nigeria. Visual Anthropology 3, no. 4:429–56.
Lyons, Harriet D. 1990. Nigerian Television and the Problems of Urban African Women. In
Culture and Development in Africa, eds. Stephen H.Arnold and Andre Nitecki. Trenton, N.J.:
Africa World Press.
Powdermaker, Hortense. 1962. Copper Town: Changing Africa. New York: Harper and Row.
Rogers, Everett M., Peter W.Vaughan, Ramadhan M.A.Swalehe, et al. 1999. Effects of
Entertainment-Education Radio Soap Opera on Family Planning Behavior in Tanzania. Studies
in Family Planning 30, no. 3:193–211.
Tager, Michele. 1997. Identification and Interpretation: “The Bold and the Beautiful” and the
Urban Black Viewer in KwaZulu-Natal. Critical Arts 11, no. 1–2:95–119.
Valente, Thomas W., Young Mi Kim, Cheryl Lettenmaier, et al. 1994. Radio Promotion of Family
Planning in the Gambia. International Family Planning Perspectives 20, no. 3:96–100.
DEBRA SPITULNIK
See also Electronic Media and Oral Traditions; Popular Culture; Theater
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RASTAFARI: A MARGINALIZED
PEOPLE
Rastafari emerged in Jamaica in the turbulent 1930s in the context of social, political, and
cultural conflict in a dying colonial order. In Jamaica, European social, political, and
cultural hegemony held sway over the masses of people of African descent. This meant
that their lives were governed by British social and political institutions and cultural
values, which were projected as the marks of civilization. In contrast, African culture
(religion, language, music and dance) and folkways were denigrated as the marks of
incivility and backwardness. Of course, British hegemony faced unrelenting opposition
from the masses as they struggled for political freedom and cultural identity. In the early
twentieth century, the conflict intensified and came to a critical juncture in the 1930s.
One manifestation of the conflict was widespread labor unrest, leading to the
crystallization of a powerful trade union movement. Another manifestation was a
growing demand for enfranchisement, leading to universal adult suffrage in 1944 and
culminating in political independence in 1962. Yet another manifestation was the
emergence of the Rastafari movement that rejected the whole colonial establishment with
its institutions and values, calling instead for a revitalization of Jamaica’s African
heritage and a return to Africa, the ancestral home of black people.
Both the early teachings of Rastafari and the early relationship between the movement
and the wider society indicated the reality of cultural conflicts. Rejecting institutional
religion (Christianity), Rastas instead proclaimed Haile Selassie, the newly crowned
emperor of Ethiopia, as the reincarnated Christ returning to earth as the black messiah
and liberator. Ironically, they used the Bible, the source of authority for European
Christianity, to prove that Selassie was the messiah, “King of kings, Lord of lords, the
Conquering Lion of the Tribe of Judah,” as his titles read. In the same vein, Rastas drew
on the biblical imagery of Babylon to reject the vaunted British institutions and values
that were considered the hallmarks of civilization. Instead, they indicted Jamaica as a
contemporary manifestation of the spirit of ancient Babylon and the Roman (dubbed
“Babylon the Great” in Book of Revelation) for its structures of oppression and its
alienating values. Whites, who instituted and managed the colonial system for their own
benefit, were condemned as oppressors and, therefore, considered enemies of God and
black humanity.
Unlike the working class, who simply desired more of the fruits of the economic
system, and the middle class, who were heirs apparent to the sociopolitical system, Rastas
wanted to opt out of a system they viewed as beyond redemption. For them redemption
meant repatriation to Africa. In this respect, while Jamaica was regarded as the land of
exile, Babylon, Africa became the land of redemption, Zion in biblical terms.
Repatriation was to come about either by Selassie’s sending ships to Jamaica to transport
the displaced Africans back to their ancestral homeland, or by Rastas pressuring the
British (in the UN if necessary) to finance their return to the land from which they were
forcibly taken. While they awaited repatriation, Rastas withdrew their support from the
established order. Refusing to work in the exploitative economy of Babylon, some turned
to subsistence farming, craft making, or street peddling. Others moved into self-governed
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and self-sufficient communes (Howell’s “Pinnacle in St. Catherine” was the first and the
most famous).
The rejection of the legitimacy of the social institutions and cultural values bequeathed
to Jamaica by the British colonialists continues today, in the symbols and lifestyle Rastas
have embraced as expressions of their determination to fashion their own esthetics and
cultural identity. For example, the use of the colors red, green, and gold symbolizes an
identification with Africa (these colors are the colors of the Ethiopian flag). Along with
dreadlocks, these colors have become the most visible expressions of Rastafarian identity
and unity.
The dreadlocks hairstyle is a bold affirmation of the beauty of African hair against a
tradition that values straight hair and labels kinky hair as unattractive. Moreover, the
matted locks have became a symbolic assertion of a lion-hearted and “lionized” African
identity, proclaiming connection of Rastas to the Ethiopian emperor whose emblem was
the lion. On one hand, “dreadtalk,” the Rastafarian argot or in-group speech, is a
symbolic rejection of one of the most significant features of Jamaican middle class
respectability, the ability to master the English language. On the other hand, it is
appropriation of the right to determine one’s vehicle of self-expression, rather than the
expression of one’s self in the terms of others. Another element of Rastafarian lifestyle is
ital (natural) living. This represents an abandonment of Babylon’s culture of artificiality,
which deals in the chemical, synthetic, counterfeit, and ersatz. Ital living is a commitment
to using things, especially foods, in their natural states. It also applies to the use of herbs
for their healing properties. Foremost amongst herbs is, of course, marijuana or ganja,
which is believed to have not only physical but spiritual and social healing properties. It
is smoked ritually to aid the individual in shaking off the shackles of alienation and
inducing unity between the individual and Jah (God), as well as generating a feeling of
peace and love toward other human beings.
The Rastafarian rejection of Jamaica’s institutions and values brought the movement
into conflict with the existing power structures. The authorities labeled them as seditious
subversives, a criminal underclass, or a lunatic fringe. These labels were accompanied by
campaigns of repression against members of the Rastafarian movement from the early
1930s to the 1960s. For example, Leonard Howell, one of the founders of the movement,
and his lieutenants were indicted, convicted, and jailed for seditious activities in the
1930s because in their preaching they disavowed any loyalty to the colonial
establishment, claiming instead that they were subjects of only Emperor Haile Selassie.
During the forties and fifties, Howell’s commune at Pinnacle was repeatedly raided and
eventually destroyed (1954) on the pretext that the Rastas were behaving in an
intimidating manner toward people in the adjoining neighborhoods. However, the real
motive for the destruction of Pinnacle was the government’s persistent fear that the
commune would become a breeding ground for guerrilla activities. The authorities
unleashed waves of repression against the movement, especially in the urban areas, after
Rastafarian leader, Claudius Henry, and his son were charged for plotting an insurrection
in late fifties, and after a few Rastas burned a gas station in Montego Bay in 1963, killing
an attendant in the process. Repressive measures included arrests, beatings, shaving
Rastas’ locks, and various other means of harassment and intimidation. In fact, the
famous slum, “Back O’Wall,” where Rastas were concentrated in the greatest numbers,
was eventually bulldozed in 1966 as part of a campaign against the criminal threat it
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harbored. Over the years, a number of Rastas, including Howell, were committed to
mental institutions. As late as the 1970s, a young person declaring an acceptance of the
Rastafarian worldview or starting “to grow locks” was regarded as exhibiting the first
sign of mental deterioration.
The conflict between Rastas and the wider society started to lessen after a 1960 study
(Smith, Augier, and Nettleford) found that Rastas were essentially peaceful persons who
suffered disproportionately from the inequities and the lack of opportunities in the
Jamaican society. After this study, the government sought to address Rastafarian
concerns through various gestures: a mission to Africa to explore the possibility of
repatriation issue, the invitation of various African leaders, including Haile Selassie, to
Jamaica to demonstrate Jamaica’s link with Africa, and an invitation of the Ethiopian
Orthodox Church to establish missions in Jamaica in the hope of channeling Rastafarian
religiosity into more structured and acceptable forms.
By the late 1960s, growing disenchantment with the economic and political progress
of the newly independent nation (1962) led to a greater acceptance of Rastafarian views
concerning the corruption and exploitative nature of Jamaica’s social and political
institutions. In fact, disenchanted middle-class youths started to embrace Rastafari, and
radical intellectuals started to embrace their critique of the social system. Some of these
intellectuals (most notably, university professor and Black Power advocate, Walter
Rodney) also established collaborative relationships with various Rastafarian groups.
Sensing the diffusion of Rastafarian sensibilities among the poor, the young, and radical
intellectuals, politicians started to use Rastafarian symbols, imagery, and language in an
effort to attract the support of the masses. Therefore, the national election campaigns of
the 1970s drew heavily on the popular music, speech, and symbols which showed the
distinct influence of Rastafari on Jamaican street culture. Then and now, some scholars
have argued that such manipulation of the Rastafarian elements in the culture smacked of
opportunistic cooption for the selfish ends of shrewd politicians and did not reflect a
genuine embrace of Rastafarian causes. That may be the case. However, by using
Rastafarian elements so openly, the politicians succeeded (probably inadvertently) in
conferring legitimacy on the movement, to such an extent, that continued middle- and
upper-class dislike notwithstanding, Rastas now enjoy a peaceful coexistence with the
rest of the society.
Perhaps of more significance than the legitimacy conferred on Rastafari by the
political use of symbols is the role of the movement in the development of Jamaica’s
expressive culture over the past forty years. By now it is common knowledge that
Rastafari has been an essential force in the development and dissemination of reggae
music, which most Jamaicans embrace as a national treasure. The rhythmic content and
character of popular Jamaican music is traceable to Rastafarian ritual drumming called
Nyabinghi. A good example of this is one of the earliest local recordings, “O Carolina,”
whose accompaniment features the Nyabinghi drumming of Count Ossie’s drummers.
The lyrics of reggae also show an indebtedness to Rastafari. The “conscious lyrics” of
reggae abound with Rastafarian philosophy and rhetoric. These “conscious lyrics” were
the trademarks of vintage reggae from the late 1960s to the early 1980s (Bob Marley,
Peter Tosh, Bunny Wailer, Third World, Jimmy Cliff, and Jacob Miller). The latter half
of the nineties is experiencing a return to serious, Rasta-inspired lyrics with scathing
social criticisms, unrelenting calls for social change, and frightening warnings of
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apocalyptic destruction of the structures of oppression and exploitation (Sizzla, Anthony
B., Luciano, Tony Rebel, Buju Ban ton). Furthermore, those who embrace the beliefs and
lifestyle of Rastafari are heavily represented among the artists who have created, shaped,
and taken reggae music around the world. In fact, the majority of the most celebrated
artists have been Rastas or have embraced significant elements of Rastafari, and they
have brought their conviction to their musical creativity.
Rastafarian contribution to Jamaica expressive culture extends far beyond popular
music and touches every creative artistic endeavor. The performing arts (popular theater
and dance) have dealt with Rastafarian themes and employed Rastafarian speech for
decades. Literature, both novel and poetry, bears the marks of Rastafarian influence on
contemporary Jamaican society. Rastafarian iconography appears frequently in the visual
arts and the broader visual culture. A visit to Jamaica’s National Gallery will reveal the
growing influence of Rastafari on and its representation in local paintings and sculptures.
Artists, both trained and intuitive, have used Rastafari to represent Jamaica’s social
reality or to express their African consciousness. Broader visual representations reveal an
identification of the indigenous culture with Rastafari. This is particularly evident in
graphic arts that make liberal use of Rastafarian colors (red, green, and gold), speech, and
other symbols to advertise just about everything from rum to reggae concerts. The
association of Rastafri with local culture is even more pronounced in the tourist wares
sold in the various craft markets in the island. These run the gamut from carvings
depicting Rastas and painted in Rastafarian colors, to T-shirts with Rastafarian images or
symbols and well-known expressions such as “Irie,” “One Love,” and “Peace and Love.”
Amazingly, the once maligned Rastafari has not only become the most significant
force in Jamaica’s expressive culture, but also has evolved into a movement with a
worldwide following. It first spread to other Caribbean islands and to metropolitan
centers in Europe and North America where many Jamaicans have migrated since the
fifties. But with the popularity of Reggae and the charisma of Bob Marley and others,
Rastafarian ideas have found favorable reception much further afield. At the beginning of
the twenty-first century, Rastafari has significant representation in most major population
centers of North America, Europe, Brazil, Cuba, and West and Southern Africa, and
followers among the Maoris in New Zealand, the indigenous Australians, and the Pacific
Islanders. In various other places and among other social groupings around the world,
there are individuals committed to the Rastafarian way of life. There are even web pages
on Rastafari in Russia. Beyond the full-scale adoption of Rastafarian philosophy and
lifestyle, many have been influenced by Rastafari in various ways. The attraction of
Rastafari to various peoples seems to be its trenchant criticism of the forces of oppression
and its clear articulation of a vision of human liberation. Thus a movement, started by a
marginalized people struggling against British social, political, and cultural hegemony,
has been embraced by other marginalized peoples around the world to express their
opposition to oppression and repression and their desire for freedom and human dignity.
References
Barrett, Leonard E. 1988. The Rastafarians: Sounds of Cultural Dissonance. Rev. and Updated.
Boston: Beacon Press.
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Chevannes, Barry. 1994. Rastafari: Roots and Ideology. Syracuse, N.Y.: Syracuse University
Press.
Lewis, William F. 1993. Soul Rebels: The Rastafari. Prospect Heights, Il.: Waveland Press.
Murrell, N.Samuel, William D.Spencer, and Adrian A.McFarlane, eds. 1998. Chanting Down
Babylon: The Rastafarian Reader. Philadelphia: Temple University Press.
Smith, Michael G., Roy Augier, and Rex Nettleford. 1960. The Rastafarian Movement in Kingston,
Jamaica. Kingston: Institute of Social and Economic Studies.
ENNIS B.EDMONDS
See also Diaspora; Caribbean Verbal Arts; Vodou
RATTRAY, R.S. (1881–1938)
Captain Robert Sutherland Rattray M.B.E was a barrister at law, and held a diploma in
anthropology from Oxford. Rattray did considerable anthropological research on African
people, especially the Ashanti; he also worked on the Hausa. Rattray’s main area of
investigation included tradition, culture, religion, customs, folklore, proverbs, and art. His
valuable works on Africa include the following: Ashanti (1923); Religion and Art in
Ashanti (1927); Ashanti Law and Constitution (1929); Ashanti Proverbs—The Primitive
Ethics of a Savage People (1916); The Tribes of Ashanti Hinterland (1932); An
Elementary Mole Grammar (1918); A Short Manual of the Gold Coast (1924); Some
Folk-lore Stories and Songs in the Chinyanja with English Translation and Notes (1907);
Hausa Folk-lore, Customs, Proverbs (1913).
When a new Anthropological Department was set up in Ashanti in the 1920s, Rattray
was charged with the task of re-searching the law and constitution of Ashanti, to assist
the colonial administrators in ruling the Ashantis. With his office in the Anthropological
Department in Ashanti, Rattray set out to do detailed and voluminous research on Ashanti
religion, customs law, art, beliefs, folktales, and proverbs. His personal contact with the
people of Ashanti afforded him an intimate knowledge of their culture, which is reflected
in his thoughtful and nuanced writing on them.
Rattray undertook research into Ashanti law, and then proceeded to look into religion
and other social matters in Ashanti; finally, he examined Ashanti arts and crafts. When he
began researching Ashanti legal customs, he was constantly confronted with words in the
Ashanti language which, although primarily associated with religion, were nonetheless
continuously found in connection with legal and constitutional procedures. Meanwhile,
the exact significance of these words needed to be determined to ensure an accurate and
useful study. Rattray discovered that Ashanti law and Ashanti religion are intimately
associated. He realized that a thorough understanding of the religion would assist him in
his study of law. Rattray then wrote first Ashanti, followed by Religion and Art in
Ashanti, and finally, the last of the trilogy, Ashanti Law and Constitution.
Ashanti deals with social anthropology. It gives detailed accounts of the social mores,
religious beliefs, and rites and customs of the Ashantis. It also includes an article on the
Golden Stool of the Ashantis.
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In Religion and Art in Ashanti Rattray described religion and other customary
practices of the Ashantis. Here, he tried to shed light on the motives and reasoning behind
some Ashanti practices that seemed appalling or horrific from a Western perspective.
Rattray described himself as a student of anthropology from its practical and applied,
rather than its academic, standpoint.
Ashanti Proverbs is a translation of and a commentary of a work by Reverand
J.G.Christaller. Here, Rattray selected approximately eight hundred proverbs from an
existing collection of proverbs by Christaller. His aim here was to illuminate some
customs and beliefs through proverbs, which were of interest to anthropologists, focusing
on the contextual meanings of proverbs cited.
Ashanti Law and Constitution treats the constitution and the history of the Ashanti
legal tradition. Special attention is drawn to the land tenure system. Rattray also traced
the growth of the “individual household” and its head from its original humble origins, to
the present-day territorial groupings under a headchief. According to Rattray, this system
directly reflected concepts of the ruler and ruling office in West Africa.
The Tribes of Ashanti Hinterland focuses on the people of the northern territories of
Ghana (then known as the Gold Coast). It is essentially a linguistic survey of these tribes,
and deals with the ethnological and historical relationship among the tribes of Mo,
Nchumuru, Kratchi, Nanumba, Gonja, Dagomba, Konkomba, Chokosi, Bimoba,
Mamprusi, Kusasi, Nabdom, Talansi, Nankanni, Kassena, Builsa, Isala, Dagati, Wala,
and Lobi.
Hausa Folklore is a two-volume book that deals with Hausa folkloric customs. Part
One is a short history purporting to give the origin of the Hausa nation and the story of
their conversion to Islam. Part Two contains various stories of heroes and heroines. When
Rattray wrote this work, he had never been in the Hausa country before. He studied
Hausa in the Gold Coast colony, where he was in constant touch with Hausa. Signifi
cantly, the book’s publication was financed by the Gold Coast government.
An Elementary Mole Grammar (1918) is a revised and enlarged edition of A MoleEnglish Vocabulary with Notes on the Grammar and Syntax (1912). Some Folklore
Stories and Songs in Chinyanja (1907) contains works in the Chinyanja language, with
English translation and notes. It contains examples of native life, habits, and customs of
the native peoples inhabiting central Angoniland. Finally, A Short Manual of the Gold
Coast contains statistical information on the Ashanti, covering such topics as ethnology,
administration, resources, education, communication and transport, and trade.
KWESI YANKAH
RELIGION: AFRICAN TRADITIONAL
RELIGION
Africa’s traditional religious heritage traces its origins to the human quest for meaning
and self-understanding. The same questions which every people have asked about
themselves and the world in which they live since the dawn of human consciousness—
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how was the world created? How did human and non-human forms of life come to be?
What is the meaning of life, and death?—were also posed by our African forebears, and
the answers given to these questions came out of their own unique experiences and
reflections. The answers, pregnant with philosophical and theological meaning, took the
form of myths and stories, and it is clear that these myths and stories would not have
come about if people had not asked questions about their existence.
The quest for meaning led to the apprehension of an underlying reality that our
African forebears experienced, and in acknowledging and accommodating themselves to
this reality, the religious institutions in African societies originated. But while African
societies are characterized by a considerable degree of diversity, there is at the same time
a remarkable degree of unity in terms of spirituality. To describe the religious heritage as
African is not to imply that there is complete uniformity of belief and practice; it is only
to suggest that such beliefs and practices have an African provenance. But even where
beliefs and practices may be extremely divergent, they have nevertheless come out of the
African experience and can therefore be legitimately called African.
Although there is no word in many African languages which may be exactly translated
as the English word religion, the concept of religion does exist everywhere in African
and Africans in their own way, under the influence of their various cultures, have given
expression to this universal phenomenon. The closest equivalent to the word religion that
is found in African languages are words such as custom, tradition, rule, or expressions
such as the “way of the ancestors,” “our way of life,” and so on. But this is a pointer to a
continent-wide reality in Africa, which is that religion does not stand by itself apart from
other aspects of life, rather it is related to every aspect of life and links all aspects of life
into a coherent system of thought and action. It gives meaning and significance to life and
provides abiding and satisfying spiritual values. And, in the crucial moments of life, such
as birth, puberty, marriage, and death, as well as in matters relating to human welfare and
destiny, religion provides answers that are helpful and satisfying to the human spirit.
A main problem for Western scholars studying traditional religions in Africa has been
a lack of familiar scholarly resources, such as a holy book. Except for a few instances,
such as Coptic Christianity in Egypt, Ethiopia, and Eritrea, there are no sacred written
scriptures in traditional African religions. Few African peoples have rigidly fixed creeds.
Still, for most African societies, there are abundant sources for the study of religious
traditions, for the ancestors devised many ways of recording their experiences and
passing them on from one generation to the other.
One can begin by studying the life of African people, since religions pervades every
facet of African life. The myths that abound in African societies tell of the origin of
things, the creation of the world and humans and the relationship between the creator or
divinity and humans and other spirit beings. Rituals and festivals convey religious ideas
and from them one can learn of the relationship between humans and the spiritual and
physical worlds. In the rites prescribed for public worship, one learns the attributes given
to divinity and other spirit beings, the devotion which people express when they worship
either in public or in private and the confidence expressed in the constancy of spirit
beings.
Religious experiences are also expressed in songs and dances; from these the history,
joys, sorrows, aspirations, and hopes, as well as the philosophical and religious outlook
of African peoples, can be ascertained. Proverbs, adages, and wise sayings represent a
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rich source for the study of African beliefs and practices as well as moral values.
Furthermore, aspects of religious heritage have been preserved in art. Art may express
social values, deep religious ideas, feelings, and experiences of the people. Carvings,
emblems, moldings, shrines, and sacred places all convey religious truth. Even names of
people reflect religious beliefs. The whole spectrum of African life provides a rich source
for the study, understanding, and appreciation of the religious traditions of Africa.
To say that the religious traditions have been passed on from generation to generation
is not to suggest that they have remained static or unchanged. As social constructs, these
traditions have changed with the succeeding generations. Since these traditions are deeply
connected to African people and their histories, they have undergone many changes in
tandem with human experiences, development, and adaptation.
Again, to refer to the religion as “traditional” is not to suggest that it is a thing of the
past, rather it is to express the view that it is based on a fundamentally African or
indigenous value system and that it has its own pattern, with its own historical legacy
from the past. But at the same time, the religion is a contemporary reality, since it
continues to influence the lives and thoughts of millions of people, not only on the
African continent, but also throughout the African diaspora. The religions of African
provenance in the Americas, such as Candomble, Umbanda, Macumba, Vodou, Santeria,
and others illustrate that African religious traditions are as relevant as ever.
The singular form of the word religion is not employed to downplay the many
variations and differences in belief and practice found in African societies. On the
contrary, it is a reference to the core of beliefs and ideas which provides a unifying
element and that warrants the use of the singular with reference to the religion. But
having said this, it must also be pointed out that the adjective African essentially refers to
origin and provenance, rather than to uniformity.
That the scholars who first wrote about the religious heritage of Africa came mostly
from Europe as missionaries, explorers, colonial officials, and anthropologists, led to the
development of a primary view of that heritage derived from the perspective of
nonpracticing, non-native individuals. Many African scholars who have written on the
subject are products of European education and, in many instances, are nonpractitioners,
and converts to Christianity or Islam. The perspective of the practitioners was deemed not
important and the observers’ views essentially became the religion itself. Thus the
traditional religious heritage became synonymous with the idea of “otherness,” and
similarities were, in the past, and to a considerable extent, even up to the present,
attributed to influences from Christian or Islamic contact. Such conclusions, no doubt,
originate from the assumption of Africa as a tabula rasa, but serious scholars ought to do
better than perpetuate age-old misconceptions, even though they were originated by
venerable writers. The African practitioners’ own views of their beliefs and actions
should be the guiding factor in any consideration of the subject of African traditional
religion.
In such a crucial area of human life and culture, knowledge of the indigenous
languages of the people whose religion is being studied is absolutely critical to an
informed interpretation of the material. And yet, in the case of Africa, many scholars
have written authoritatively about the religions of societies in Africa, without a thorough
or working knowledge of the languages of those societies. Scholars studying Eastern
religions go to the extent of studying languages that are no longer spoken in order to read
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ancient scriptures; and yet those studying Africa do not often bother to thoroughly
understand spoken languages of the people whose religion they are studying, and rely on
translators whose knowledge of the researcher’s language may be limited, to say the
least.
African traditional religion generally holds that the universe did not come into being
on its own accord, and that there was a time when it did not exist. Many myths tell of the
activities of a Creator, Moulder, Sculptor, Fashioner, Great Weaver, or Originator, who
brought everything that exists into being. In some cases, the Creator used agents to carry
out the task of creation, but the myths make it clear that those agents merely carried out
orders and were not independent agents who acted on their own volition. The universe is
one, but it has two aspects, visible and invisible, and these aspects constitute the reality of
the universe.
The universe is populated by beings and beings presuppose relationships; there is an
interconnectedness between all that exists. These beings are hierarchically arranged, and
they all originate from one source. There are mystical powers whose existence is borne
out by the practice of witchcraft, sorcery, medicine, rainmaking, and curing. These forces
can be used to bring about pain and suffering and they can also be used to fight evil.
Death is not the end of life, and the dead ancestors continue to be members of their
families and societies and to wield influence over the living. The involvement of the dead
in the affairs of society continues without interruption and there is a sense in which death
increases a person’s powers, for the dead can punish or reward the living.
Communication with the dead is possible, through libations and offerings, dreams and
possession. The dead are believed to return into the world and to be reborn and this belief
is given concrete expression in the names given to children indicating the return of a
deceased person into life. Life therefore is a cycle of birth, maturation into adulthood and
finally death, and the life cycle is renewable.
The spirit world is real and is inhabited by Divinity, the ancestral spirits, and agents,
children, or messengers of Divinity called orishas by the Yoruba, Vodun by the Fon, and
Abosom by the Akan. These latter spirits may take up residence in rivers, rocks,
mountains, or shrines. As agents and messengers of Divinity, these spirits interact
regularly with human beings and are interested in what happens in the human world.
In spite of the powers attributed to them and the worship and service offered them,
these spirits are limited beings with circumscribed powers. Each has an area of
competence which is limited to the specific attribute for which it is known. Shrines are
maintained by priests or priestesses as places where sacrifices or prayers may be offered
to these spirits, who are believed to protect, bless, and punish.
God does not have a generic name, but unique names and attributes. Shrines, temples,
and statues dedicated to God are rare, nor are there priests or priestesses dedicated to the
service of God. This implies that no human can stand in as the messenger or mouthpiece
of God, no human can have such a direct link to the ultimate divinity. And because God
is not conceived of in physical terms, there are no shrines, physical or visual
representations such as sculptures or paintings. Rather, God is portrayed as a great spirit
without any physical representations. The Akan proverb: “If you want to speak to
Onyame (Divinity), speak to the winds,” suggests that God is invisible but everywhere.
The various names for God in African languages bring out the wide variety of ideas and
attributes for the ultimate divinity.
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The belief that humans will enjoy peace and tranquility in this world if they act in
accordance with the moral sanctions of their societies, which and are supervised by the
divinities and ancestors, constitutes a core idea of African traditional religion. Religion is
for this world and its purpose is to make life more comfortable and prosperous. It enables
people to find meaning in life, and resonates with the power to improve life.
These core ideas have been given concrete expression in a variety of ways in African
societies, and each society’s religious practices constitute elaborations on these common
beliefs. The forced emigration of millions of Africans into the Americas during the era of
the slave trade led to the introduction of African religious beliefs and practices in the
New World; these beliefs continue to be a vital part of the religious and cultural life not
only of African descendants, but also of other American people.
African traditional religion is part of the religious heritage of humankind and shares
essential similarities with other world religions. Like all religions it deals with the
supernatural and springs from humanity’s eternal quest to comprehend the universe, and
humankind’s place in that universe. It is, like all religions, a profound expression of the
apprehension of a truth that defies adequate verbalization. Studies of traditional African
religion will undoubtedly continue to provide knowledge of not only this specific
tradition, but of basic religious impulses and beliefs adhered to throughout the world.
References
Abimbola, Wande. 1997. Ifa Will Mend Our Broken World: Thoughts on Yoruba Religion and
Culture in Africa and the Diaspora. Roxbury, Mass.: Aim Books.
Blakeley, Thomas D., Walter E.A.van Beek, and Dennis L. Thomson, eds. 1994. Religion in
Africa: Experience and Expression. London.
King, Noel Q. 1986. African Cosmos: An Introduction to Religion in Africa. Belmont, Ca.:
Wadsworth.
Magesa, Laurenti. 1997. African Religion: The Moral Traditions of Abundant Life. Maryknoll, New
York: Orbis Books.
Mbiti, John S. 1969. African Religions and Philosophy. London: Heinemann.
Mbiti, John S. 1991. Introduction to African Religion. Second Edition. London: Heinemann.
Opoku, Kofi Asare. 1978. West African Traditional Religion. Accra et al: FEP.
Ray, Benjamin C. 1976. African Religions: Symbol, Ritual, and Community. Englewood Cliffs, N.J.
Some, Malidoma Patrice. 1998. The Healing Wisdom of Africa: Finding Life Purpose Through
Nature, Ritual and Community. New York: Tarcher/Putnam.
Zahan, Dominique. 1979. The Religion, Spirituality, and Thought of Traditional Africa. Chicago
and London: The University of Chicago Press.
KOFI A.OPOKU
See also Cosmology; Divination: Overview; Healing; Spirit Possession
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RELIGIONS: AFRO-BRAZILIAN
RELIGIONS
The African religious heritage is rich in Brazil. From the north to the south,
manifestations of African deities can be detected. These religions are generally known as
Candomblé. Candomblé reached Rio de Janeiro by the end of the nineteenth century and,
more recently, the city of São Paulo.
It is important to stress that in the southeastern part of Brazil (especially in the states
of Rio de Janeiro, São Paulo, and Minas Gerais), there is also Macumba, a generic term
that also includes the Umbanda. Both Macumba and Umbanda are popular religions
resulting from a similar syncretic process. In the state of Maranhao, in the “Casa das
Minas” church, one can find the worship of vodun, divinities of Fon origin from
Dahomey’s ancient kingdom (now Benin). In the city of Cachoeira in Bahia state, there is
also the service of vodun at the Ceja Undê church; however, this rite is originally from
Mahi, in Benin. In Pernambuco, we can find Xango being served, originally a Yoruba
orisha, mainly in the city of Recife.
The word Condomblé is etymologically derived from the Kimbundu language:
Ka+ndumbe+mbele, which translates as “indoctrination house.” Its cult is based on
worshipping forces of nature (Orisis) and ancestors. The sacredotal structure obeys a
hierarchy, in which the main priests are called babalorixa (“pai-de-santo” a male
religious leader) or ialorixa (“mãe-de-santo,” a female religious leader). It dates back to
the time of the slave trade, when Africans were brought by force to Brazil to serve as
laborers in the plantations and cities. The three main groups that formed Candomblé were
the Nago, the Jeje, and the Bantu-speakers. The Nago or Yoruba came from several
regions in what today is called Nigeria. The Jeje, or Fons, came originally from Daome’s
(Dahomey) ancient kingdom (current Benin Republic), Ghana, and Togo while the Bantu
speakers arrived from the wide territory of Portuguese colonization in southern Africa,
such as Angola, Mozambique, and Congo.
These ethnic groups brought the Yoruba, Ewe-Fon, and Kimbundu languages to
Brazil. The emergence of African sects in the New World was an unforeseen
consequence of the slave trade. Candomblé is fundamentally an initiatory religion, in
which the neophyte (iaô) must undergo seclusion for about three weeks. During this time,
the initiate undergoes rituals to consecrate the body in preparation for possession by his
or her orixá (protector and the “owner of their head”). In general, the most popular
aspects of Candomblé are the public celebrations (xire), in which, through singing and
dancing, the orixas are summoned to be praised, and to bless their devotees.
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Orixás
Orixá, the name by which the African deities worshiped in Brazil are known, stands for
the many cosmologic principles or divinities which command the forces of nature. There
are many orixás worshipped in Brazil today. Not only does the general name, orixá, come
from the Yoruba, but many of the individual names are Yoruba as well.
Exu, the “African mercurial divinity” and first-born, is the great communication agent
according to the Yoruba religious system, where he is known as Eshu. Exu is the speech
itself. Holder of epithets of Ojixé, “the messenger,” and of Enubanrijô, “the collective
mouth,” he is the one who provides humans with the knowledge of the orixis’ will and
with the offerings that should be made for obtaining their benevolence. Therefore, he is
the agent of trading relations and of exchange. The idea of exchange in Candomblé
expresses one of the most important liturgical and conceptual concepts of this religion,
since the devotional act implies a restitutional process involving energy (axé) and
reaching balance. This deity also commands sexual impulses; he is represented by an
erect penis. Monday is Exu’s day of reverence. His colors are black and red, his place of
service is the crossroads, and his favorite foods are the rooster and farofa de dendê (a mix
of manioc meal and azeite de dendê African palm oil). He also likes to drink cachaga
(alcoholic beverage derived from skimmings of boiling sugar cane).
Ogun is the divinity of war and the lord of the paths. He created technology and
metallurgy. In Africa, he was originally an agrarian divinity. Therefore, his symbols are
the sword and agricultural tools. Tuesday is his day, his color is blue, and he is worshiped
on the railroads and highways (because trains and motor vehicles are made of iron).
Yams are his favorite food.
Oxossi is the deity of hunting and forests. He is represented by a bow and arrow. He
also holds an ox tail which he uses to command the forest spirits. His votive day is
Thursday, his colors are blue and green, and he likes axoxo, a food made of boiled corn
decorated with coconut strips.
Ossaim is the mysterious deity of herbal medicine and is deeply connected to African
healing traditions. He knows all the plants’ power for liturgical and healing purposes, and
lives in the virgin forests: He eats honey, corn, and peanuts. This deity likes to smoke and
to drink cachaga. His colors are green and yellow; the bird is one of his symbols.
Omolu cures victims of plagues, epidemics, and contagious diseases. He is called “the
poors’ doctor.” He is a mysterious and gloomy divinity, covered with straws that hide his
face. Monday is his day for worship. His colors are black, red, and white, and his favorite
food is popcorn.
Xangô might be said to resemble Zeus, the ancient Greeks’ supreme god. He is the
orixá of thunder and lightning god. His cult is originally from the Yoruba city of Oyo. He
would have been one of this African city’s historic kings and, therefore, is also called Obi
and Alafin, which in Yoruba means “king” and “palace lord,” respectively. His element is
fire and his symbol is a double ax. He appreciates a rich diversity of food, such as lamb
and turtle, but his favorite dish is made with okras. Thursday is his votive day, and his
colors are red and white.
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Oxumara is represented by the serpent and the rainbow. Among the Yoruba, he is the
deity who transports water from rivers and seas to Xango’s palace, which is located in
heaven. He is also a mighty fortune-teller. The Fon call him Bessem, and he is
represented by an iron snake. His colors are yellow and black. Oxum is a beautiful
seductress, and is associated with water in all forms, sweat, rivers, waterfalls, and so on.
She is vain and proud, always wearing copper bracelets, combing her hair, and admiring
herself in the mirror. Her color is golden yellow, and her favorite dish is omolucum, a
food made of beans, shrimp, and eggs.
Iansa’s the orixá of wind, lightning, and storms. She rules the spiritual realm. A
fearless warrior, she is a brave woman who follows her husband into battles. She is one
of Xango’s wives, as is Oxum. Her color is red or coral. She holds an ox tail with which
she commands the world of the dead. Her favorite food is acaraja (bean rolls with shrimp
fried in azeite de dendi).
Iemanjâ is the “Lady of Sea Water,” who lives at the mouth of rivers where the rivers’
water and the seas’ water blend. She is the great mother of all orixás. Her connection with
childbirth is signified by her large breasts. All sea fishes are also her children. Her objects
are silver plated and her color is transparent. Her day of worship is Saturday. One of her
main foods is made of honey and rice. She holds a silver fan in one of her hands. She is
usually represented as a mermaid.
Nanã Buruku is the oldest female divinity. This deity is connected with still waters,
swamps, and mud, and is also associated with the dead. An old, slow, and introspective
orixá, her colors are dark blue and white.
Oxalá is the great god of creation, and father of all orixás. An ancient divinity, he is
represented as an old hunchbacked man, walking very slowly, and supported by his staff
(opaxorô). His ritual objects are white, a color associated with the beginning of time and
death. (White is the mourning color for the Yorubas.) Oxala’s day of worship is Friday. It
is a tradition of Candomblé followers to use white on Fridays in homage to the ancient
orixá devotion. This deity’s main dishes are canjica (white corn), white pigeon, and igbin
(edible land snail).
Service to the Ancestors
The homage to the community’s dead members is a separate rite in Candomblé. The
spirits of eminent deceased people are called Baba Egun (ancestors’ fathers). The central
site of these services is on Itaparica Island, next to Salvador (Bahia). When the spirits
manifest themselves by possessing their devotees, they give advice and highlight the
groups’ solidarity. They also answer questions and heal the sick. The dead cannot be
touched. Only the clerics of the cult of the dead have the power to communicate with
these spirits.
Divination
In Candomblé, communications are established between the physical world (aie) and the
spiritual world (orun). Thereby, the multiple instances of interaction are revealed:
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between human and orixas, between human and ancestors (egun), among human
themselves during services (egbe), in the destiny revealed by odu (the signs of Ifá), by the
nature of their own Ori (divinity head), and by the other forces of supernatural world. Ifá
is the Yoruba’s oracle or divinatory system, which is headed by the deity Orumila, who is
aware of humans’ destiny, and by Exú, the orixá linked to communication. The oracle is
one of the main foundations of the Afro-Brazilian religions belief system. This divination
system is composed of a set of sixteen cowrie shells. Divination is made by throwing the
shells on a white cloth; the configurations are interpreted for their oracular messages.
Macumba
The term Macumba is probably the result of the acculturation of Bantu-speaking African
slaves. The term’s etymology is controversial, even though it is known that it is originally
from the Kimbundu language: ma (everything that scares)+kumba (to sound). This
derivation seems to refer to the sounds of musical instruments used in this religion, which
are mainly percussion, such as atabaques (drums played with the hands which were
probably assimilated from the Yoruba cultural group). There is also a record of the
melding of the plural prefix maku+the word mba meaning “sortilege.” The term
Macumba also refers to an ancient African musical instrument, consisting of a bamboo
pipe with transverse cuts, over which two slender sticks were grated. Another reference
identifies the word Macumba as the name given to the initiates in the nation of Cabinda, a
Bantuspeaking group brought to Brazil as slaves.
Macumba was the dominant form of Afro-Brazilian worship in Rio de Janeiro up to
the beginning of the twentieth century. Its influence was also present in the states of
Minas Gerais and Saõ Paulo. Religious practices usually took place in sanctified areas
where the spirit entities were evoked. These entities were called Pretos Velhos (old
slaves’ spirits), Caboclos (native Brazilian spirits) and Beijadas (children’s spirits),
among many other names. Such rituals were celebrated by chefe de terreiro (lounge
leader), which could be either a pai-de-santo or mae-de-santo (a male or a female
religious leader, respectively), always helped by an assistant called cambone. Macumba
was a strongly syncretistic worship, a deep blend of Catholic religious practices and
Allan Kardec’s spiritualism. This religious denomination practically disappeared around
1910, due to the emergence of Umbanda. A word derived from Kimbundu and Kikongo
idioms, Umbanda means “witchcraft” and “sorcery” in the city of Rio de Janeiro. Like
Candomblé and Macamba, Umbanda is also composed of various cultural elements, such
as native Brazilian and African beliefs, Catholicism, spiritualism, and Eastern rituals. It is
practiced in urban centers in southeastern Brazil. Throughout Brazil, African-derived
faiths remain vital for their devotees.
References
Bascom, William. 1991. Ifa Divination: Communication Between Gods and Men in West Africa.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Bastide, Roger. 1959. Sociologia do Folclore Brasileiro. São Paulo: Editora Anhambi.
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Bastide, Roger. 1989. As Religioes Africanas no Brasil: Contribuição para uma Sociologia das
Interpenetraçoes de Civilizaçoes. São Paulo: Livraria Pioneira Editora.
Santos, Cristiano H.R dos. 2001. Candomblé. In The Concise Encyclopedia of Language and
Religion, ed. John F.A.Sawyer and J.M.Y.Simpson. Oxford, England: Pergamon/Elsevier
Science.
Santos, Cristiano H.R.dos. 2001. Macumba. In The Concise Encyclopedia of Language and
Religion, ed. John F.A.Sawyer and J.M.Y.Simpson. Oxford (UK): Pergamon/Elsevier Science,
2001. pp. 73–74.
Santos, Juana Elbein. 1993. Os Nàgô e a Morte: Pàde. Àsèsè e o Culto Égun na Bahia. Petropolis:
Editora Vozes.
Verger, Pierre Fatumbi. 1957. Notes sur le Culte des Orishe et Vodoun a Bahia, la Baie de Tous les
Saints au Brasil et a I’Ancienne Côte des Esclaves. Mémoire 51 de I’Institut Frangais pour
I’Afrique Noir. Dakar: IFAN.
Verger, Pierre Fatumbi. 1993. Orixás: Deuses lorubés na Africa e no Novo Mundo. São Paulo:
Corrupio.
CRISTIANO HENRIQUE RIBEIRO DOS SANTOS
See also Diaspora; Santeria; Vodou
RELIGIOUS CEREMONIES AND
FESTIVALS: SÃO TOMÉ AND
PRÍNCIPE
The island republic of São Tomé and Príncipe is the second smallest state in Africa. After
five hundred years of Portuguese colonial domination the country became independent in
1975. The native Creole population, descendents of African slaves and European settlers,
have become known as Forros. Roman Catholicism has always been the dominant
religion in the archipelago. However, African religious forms have always persisted side
by side with Christian beliefs or have been merged into local syncretic religious rites.
The Catholic Church has been rooted on the archipelago since the formation of the
Creole society in the late 15th century. Particularly the Forro community adheres to the
Catholic religious manifestations and associations. Every parish has a confraria, a
religious brotherhood with membership of both men and women. The members are not
obliged to have had a church wedding. Every confraria has a president, a secretary, and a
treasurer. The senior members often play important roles in the local Forro community.
The brotherhood gathers every Sunday, collecting money among the members who
jointly attend the mess. The brotherhood gives money to the poor and supports members
in case of illness or other misfortunes. The confraria organizes the parish festival
annually to commemorate the local patron saint. Against a small contribution other
persons can become juiz (assistant) in order to participate in the organization of the
festivity. On Thursday in the week preceding the festival the president hoists the flag.
During the novena the brothers and the juizes attend the special prayers in the church.
After the principal mass there is a banquet of fraternization with typical dishes behind the
church where everybody can participate free of charge. Eight brothers who are dressed in
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red carry the figure of the patron saint through the streets of the town. The same day the
theater and dance societies perform simultaneously on different places in the town.
Modern popular bands playing the local version of Congo-style dancing music like Africa
negra, sangazuza, and os úntués perform at night on the terraço, the local enclosed open
dancing floor. The major festival Deus Pai on June 13 in the town of Trindade attracts
thousands of people from all over the island. Another important festival takes place on
December 21 to commemorate Saint Thomas, the patron saint and name-giver of the
major island.
Many Forro families have their own wooden chapel with a picture of a Catholic saint
on their quinté (compound). Once a year on a particular day the family brings the picture
in a little procession to the parish church to be blessed by the priest. After a few days,
they take it back to their chapel where it remains until the following year. On the day
when the picture is back in the chapel, the family gives a banquet with traditional dishes.
The fixed date is the anniversary of the very first blessing of the family saint in the
church.
The local population considers baptism and funeral as the most important sacraments,
whereas only the small elite practices the Christian-style wedding and marriage.
However, even formally married men are very unlikely to stick to the monogamous rule.
A mother’s first-born is called bilibega, the last-born is referred to as codabega. After
childbirth a woman is not allowed to maintain sexual relations until she has effected the
flêcê (offering), preferably in the church Madre de Deus. Forty-five days after childbirth
at daybreak, the mother wears a black shawl and carries her baby to the church, taking a
candle, charcoal, and half a bottle of palm oil, which she puts at the foot of the altar
where she prays and presents her child to God. On the way to the church and back home,
the woman, sometimes accompanied by her own mother, may not turn her head
backward. After having prayed, the mother walks seven times around the church
collecting leaves of plants, which she needs for a ritual bath at home. Thereafter she may
resume her sexual activity. Baptism is a family feast engendering considerable expenses.
Therefore, the ceremony is often postponed and frequently children are a few years old
when they are baptized in the church. Apart from the Christian godparents whose duty it
is to pay for the layette of the godchild and for the sacristan, sometimes there are an
additional godmother and godfather, referred to as the mandjam lu-lu-lu and pandjam lulu-lu, who bury the placenta of the newborn. The godparents often come from the same
family and can be children, while the Christian godparents often come from outside the
immediate family and used to be of higher social status. A Catholic saint can also serve
as godparent.
When a person has died, the family members light candles in the room of the
deceased. The mournful news is spread by the local radio station. The following day a
truck takes the coffin of the dead and the singing and crying relatives and friends dressed
in black to the graveyard. Usually they bury the dead without the presence of a priest. A
deceased adult who has not bore or fathered a child is buried with a flower on the coffin.
Following the funeral, the mourning family stays together during a velório (wake) of
seven days in the yard of the deceased, where the kispa, a covering made of palm tree
branches, has been erected. Friends and neighbors constantly express their sympathy and
contribute to the expenses of the funeral. The contributions
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Catholic brotherhood during
procession of feast of Deus Pai (June
13), Trindade, Sáo Tomé.
Photo © Gerhard Seibert.
are registered in a copybook. In the night of the seventh day the nozado, a gathering in
memory of the dead, takes place. However, there is no nozado if the dead is a child or a
person without offspring. At the invitation of the mourning family the litany group
(ladaínha) sings, the women serve coffee and food, while the men drink palm wine and
aguardente (gin), playing the popular cardgame bisca 61. The following morning, the
eldest son knocks three times against the wall saying: “Come with me.” Thereupon, all
attendants go to the church celebrating the seventh day mass. On their way to the church
they may not turn backward. When they return from mass, the most intimate relatives of
the dead walk three times around the house. The nozado recurs after the thirtieth day
mass and at the end of the time of mourning. This period, during which women are
dressed in black and men sometimes only wear a crape, lasts one and a half year in the
case of a mother, one year and three months following a father’s death, and six months
for the grandparents, an aunt, uncle, parents-in-law, and elder siblings. If a young child
has died, neither the parents nor the elder siblings are in mourning. The surviving
dependants may hold a nozado annually on the day of death of the late family member.
These gatherings are announced through the local radio station.
A ritual called bócadu held on Ash Wednesday unites all family members in the house
of the oldest relative, mostly a woman. After the attendants have sung the litanies, the old
woman puts dishes with the local festive food upon a mat on the ground: angú, djogó,
calulú, cozido de banana, izaquente, and maize pudding, giving everybody a mouthful
(bócadu) and her blessing. Due to the beginning of Lent the dishes may not contain meat.
A favorite drink is palm wine, termed vipema in creole. One dish containing all delicacies
is set apart for the relative who has died most recently. During the meal the family
members entertain each other with anecdotes and small stories. The bócadu symbolizes
the passage of the elder’s wisdom to the younger generation and strengthens the unity of
the family members with each other.
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References
Ambrósio, António. 1985. Para a história do Folclore São-Tomense. História 81:60–88.
Espírito Santo, Carlos. 1998. A Coroa do Mar. Lisbon: Caminho.
Egzaguirre, Pablo. 1986. Small Farmers and Estates in São Tomé, West Africa. Unpublished Ph.D.
thesis. Yale University.
Nordlund, Solveig. 1990. An Immortal Story. 16mm film, Torromfilm.
Perkins, Juliet. 1990. A Contribuição Portuguesa ao Tchiloli de São Tomé. Revista do Património
Histórico e Artístico Nacional. Rio de Janeiro: Especial Issue 1990, pp. 131–141.
Reis, Fernando. 1969. Povô Flogá. O Povo Brinca. Folclore de São Tomé e Príncipe. São Tomé:
Camara Municipal de São Tomé.
Rosa, Luciano Catano da Rosa. 1994. Die Lusographe Literatur der Inseln São Tomé und Príncipe:
Versuch einer Literaturgeschichtlichen Darstellung. Frankfurt on Main: Verlag Teo Ferrer de
Mesquita/Domus Editoria Europaea.
Shaw, Caroline. 1996. Oral Literature and Popular Culture in Cape Verde and in São Tomé and
Príncipe. The Postcolonial Literature of Lusophone Africa, ed. Patrick Chabal. Evanston, Ill.:
Northwestern University Press.
Seibert, Gerhard. 1991. O Tchiloli de São Tomé. História 142:66–73.
——. 1990. Tehiloli de São Tomé et Príncipe. Internationale de l’Imaginaire. 14.
Tenreiro, Francisco. 1961. A Ilha de São Tomé. Lisbon: Junta de Investigações do Ultramar.
——. (1990) [special edition]
GERHARD SEIBERT
See also Birth and Death Rites among the Gikuyu; Diaspora; Carnival
REUNION
See Indian Ocean Islands: The Process of Creolization
RIDDLES
All African societies reveal a distinct taste for enigmatic games. These come in many
forms, of which two are especially common. The first consists of a brief, enigmatic
definition calling for one right answer, which in English is called a riddle. The second is a
short narrative, called a dilemma tale, which proposes an unsolvable enigma for the
audience to debate. Often such a tale revolves around three heroes, who accomplish
extraordinary feats. The puzzle’s solution may be determined by deciding which of the
three is the bravest and/or the strongest. In many societies these two forms are considered
as evolving from the same genre and are, in fact, designated by the same term.
Riddles are often associated with folktales; they are often told to an audience waiting
for a performance to begin. The riddles sometimes carry the same name as that of the
tales, although this is not the most common practice. On the other hand, they are
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frequently the object of the same taboos of recitation, particularly during the daytime.
This genre is primarily presented as a diversion for children, with adult participation
occurring only for the benefit of the children. It has all the characteristics of a game. The
riddles are presented in a series of organized sessions. The search for a solution to each
riddle implies competition, as everyone wants to see who will emerge victorious: the one
who proposed the riddle, or the audience who guesses the correct answer.
This game often adheres to ritualistic formulas. One must formally confess to losing
when one has not found the answer to the riddle. For example, with the Dyula, to express
the powerlessness of the audience, one of the members of the audience says to the riddler,
“Here is your house.” The questioner might provide the key to the enigma when it has not
been solved. The author of the riddle replies in a ritualistic manner, “I am shaking it; it
bursts open,” before giving the answer.
Yet behind these playful appearances, the riddles also play a pedagogical role. The
enigmatic nature of these riddles rests upon a process of “veiling” through metaphor. The
audience’s job in coming up with the correct answer is to search for the causal
relationship between the image and the object or the image and the situation it represents.
The relationship between the two can be demonstrated by two forms of comparison.
A formal analogy might be used as in the following riddle which is well known in
West Africa (e.g., among the Manding and Fulani [Peule] peoples). “On the road, a black
thread?” with the answer: “Soldier ants.” These large ants are indeed black, and they
move in narrow columns which give the impression of a long thread stretching across the
road. This is the most elementary degree of metaphorical analogy and therefore is the
type of riddle told early on to the young.
The other type uses a functional analogy. Here it is a common function attributed to
the metaphorical element and to the object to be guessed at which establishes the relation
between them. For example, another Dyula riddle goes, “I went to throw out the wood.
He told me to give him some water?” and the answer is “Shit.” The metaphorical process
at work here is found in metonymy, in the evocation of the hygenic gesture which follows
defecating. To the extent that it is not simply the object which is metaphorically
suggested by one of its properties but rather a function which is contingent to it, the
relationship is a little more difficult to discover and a riddle of this type represents a
greater degree of sophistication in the mechanism of figurative imagery.
Another form utilizes an analogical structure depending on a series of objects as well
as on their relations. A Mandinka riddle proposes “The skinny bird perched on the puny
tree” and its proper response is “Repayment of a debt between two bums.” In this
example, the skeletal nature of the tree and of the bird is the very image of poverty,
whereas their respective positions (the bird perched on the tree) metaphorically recalls the
relationship of creditor (the bird) to his debtor (the tree). Here is an even more elaborate
degree of the metaphor process.
This game will thus be an example of a veritable exercise of reflection on the
principles of the functioning of visual expression that is a fundamental trait of other more
respected genres such as poems and proverbs, to which riddles are stylistically rather
close. Like them, riddles are short and formulaic, frequently marked by opening formulas
that function as a marker for the genre. Thus, among the Dyula, riddles almost always
begin by conventional statements such as, “I went to my parents-in-law and I saw…” or
“I went to the village” (or “to the fields” or “in the meadows”) “and I saw…”
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Riddles in African societies function, therefore, like a sort of initiation into poetic
expression, fundamental and introductory to most other genres. There is a sensitivity to
the formulaic properties of the signifier (symmetry, paronomasia [word play, especially
puns], and alliterations) and, above all, the learning of the complex mechanisms on which
the use of metaphor rests. To this effect, examining a riddle session as it takes place
naturally in the center of a community is doubtlessly more revealing than analyzing a
corpus of riddles classified by a theorist according to formal or thematic criteria. In
effect, apart from the fact that one can often discern an agenda of progression, from
simple metaphors to more complex ones, for example, the efforts of the audience to find
the correct answers is likewise very instructive. In this respect, incorrect answers are
often as interesting as correct answers because they reveal the inductive mechanisms by
which the listeners attempt to decode the images. It is thus a truly active learning process
by which the intelligence of the individual is solicited.
Riddles respond particularly well to this pedagogical function to the extent that their
game-like character renders them more appealing and that the brevity of their subject
matter allows them to be memorized without great difficulty by children. Children must,
therefore, be exposed to this type of learning in order to be adept at subsequently
comprehending what certain societies refer to as la parole pilee (“the compressed word,”
from the Gbaya of CAR) or la parole a coque (“the encased word” from the Mossi of
Burkina Faso), that is, the word which must be broken open because it is bursting with
meaning. This learning process supported by creative speech and verbal arts assists
individuals in the process of socialization.
References
Bentolila, F. 1986. Devinettes berberes. Paris: CILF.
Dalfovo, Albert Titus. 1988. Lugbara Riddles. Anthropos 83:811–30.
Derive, Jean. 1980. La maison eclatee: quelques devinettes dioula de Cote d’Ivoire, In Recueil de
litterature manding, ed. Gerard Dumestre. Paris: ACCT.
Giray-Saul, E. 1983. A West African Riddling Tradition: The Solem Kueese of the Mossi of Upper
Volta. In Cross Rhythms: Papers in African Folklore, eds. K.Anyidoho, et al. Bloomington,
Ind.: Trickster Press.
Kabira, Wanjiku, and K.Muthah. 1988. Gikuyu Oral Literature. Nairobi: Heinemann Kenya.
Knappert, J. “Rhyming Riddles in Swahili Songs of Secrets,” Afrika und Ubersee 71:2.
Thomas, J.M.C. Contes, proverbes, devinettes ou enigmes, chants er prieres Ngbaka Ma‘bo.
Yankah, Kwesi. 1983. The Poetics of the Akan Riddle, In Cross-Rhythms: Papers in African
Folklore, eds. K.Anyidoho, et al. Bloomington, Ind.: Trickster Press.
JEAN DERIVE
See also Folktales; Proverbs
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RIDDLES: SESOTHO RIDDLES
The Basotho are the people of the Lesotho Kingdom, which is centered in the country of
Lesotho. Their name derives originally from a Swazi word, which was later adopted by
King Mos-hoeshoe I as the unifying political term for his emerging kingdom. Sesotho
refers to the language and any customs of the Basotho.
This essay is a discussion of Sesotho riddles, focusing on their source, meaning,
performance, structure, and function. Sesotho riddles are games based on offering puzzles
and guessing their solutions. The game is normally played by two teams of children; one
team proposes the riddles, while the other attempts to answer them. Sesotho riddles exist
as a distinct and self-sustaining genre.
In some societies, the riddle consists of a question and answer; this, however, is not
the case with Sesotho riddles. The first part of the riddle is always a statement. However,
some riddles are interrogative in form. In such cases, the proponent requires not an
answer but a solution to the proposition made.
Like proverbs, Sesotho riddles draw upon daily activities common within society. The
observation of the life of familiar animals and plants is very important for the creation of
riddles. Their different characteristics, features, and behaviors contribute significantly to
the creation of most of the riddles. It is not only plant and animal life that is the source of
riddles, but also the natural environment, material culture, and some parts of the body.
New riddles are also being created from the observation of modern material culture and
the new technology.
Sesotho riddles are normally played in the evening, and around the fire, especially in
the winter when it is cold. The young members of the family are normally all present. An
older member present does not take part, but may arbitrate if there is a misunderstanding
among players. Since riddling is a competitive game, at the end of each game there is
always a winning and a losing team.
The first part of the riddle is poetic; the rhythm is sustained by several poetic devices.
These devices, which contribute to the poetic nature of riddles, include contrast,
reduplication, ideophones, personification, repetition, and parallelism, among others.
There are short and long Sesotho riddles. The first part of the riddle, which is the puzzle
or the proposition, may be two words, phrases, and simple or complex sentences. The
solution, which is the second part of the riddle, may also be one word, a phrase or a
sentence. The following examples illustrate the various stylistic devices employed.
Contrast: Ke eloa, ke enoa.
He is there, he is here.
Solution: A road
Alliteration: Kahqa, khiqi, khopo tsa Satane.
Tightly, closed ribs of Satan.
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Solution: Lehlafi la Sesotho
A traditional door made of twigs
Ideophones: Qaa, pote!
Quickly biting, it disappeared!
Solution: the flea
Repetition: Khomo ea ka ea raha le’na ka raha.
My cow kicked and I too kicked.
Solution: a pair of trousers when one dresses up
Personification:
Linese tse ngata tse kolokileng ka sepetlele li sa sisinyehe.
Many nurses standing in a row in a hospital but not
moving.
Solution: teeth
First Person: Ka khanna koloi ke sa e palame.
I drove a vehicle without sitting in it.
Solution: a wheel barrow
Animalisation: Poho ea khonya mohlakeng.
The bull bellowed at the meadow.
Solution: an adze
Augmentative: Thota e shoeshoe e’ngoe.
A valley with one flower.
Solution: the moon or the navel
Parallelism: Se re se ea koana e ke se tla koano.
Going that way as if coming this way.
Solution: vehicle
Metaphor: Bukana-se-bula-likeiti.
The booklet, the opener of gates.
Solution: passport
Sesotho riddles are games of entertainment and excitement, which teach players to be
observant of their surroundings and the society’s daily activities. Riddling creates a spirit
of competitiveness among players and a spirit of togetherness for those who find
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themselves in the same team. Like proverbs, riddles are stylistic in form. Their
performance has much social importance as well as entertainment value for the children
who participate in their enactment.
References
Guma, S.M. n.d. The Form, Content and Technique of Traditional Literature of Southern Sotho.
Pretoria: Van Schaik.
Mokitimi, MI. 1993. The Sesotho Proverb as a Poetic Text. South African Journal of African
Languages 3:96–100.
Okpewho, Isidore. 1993. African Oral Literature. Bloomington Indiana University Press.
Segoete, Everitt. 1995. Raphepheng. Morija. Morija Sesuto Book Depot.
MAKALI I.MOKITIMI
See also Linguistics and African Verbal Arts; Proverbs; Southern Africa:
Overview
RITUAL PERFORMANCE
A ritual performance marks a meaningful social event or transition through various kinds
of coordinated and individual actions. As occasions or events, ritual performances are
often considered emotionally or esthetically heightened occasions as well. Performance
and performance analysis also have more specialized, technical senses in fields such as
folklore, anthropology, religious studies, and art history, where they refer to a mode of
analyzing rituals and ceremonies.
Types of Ritual Performance in Africa
Ritual performances in Africa exhibit even greater diversity than African cultures and
histories in general. In different African societies, different changes and occasions may
be recognized through ritual performance as culturally important. Cultural definitions and
understandings of these changes and occasions vary widely in different places and times,
although some types of rites manifest structural similarities and have some symbolic
themes in common. At any point in history, people in particular African societies also
recognize and practice a number of different ritual performances. These might be
concerned with religion, healing, political and family relations, individual and social
transformations, and other matters as well. In most cases, ritual performances involve
several of these domains at once. They could include initiation into new statuses,
associations, or offices, funerals, marriages, other rites of passage, calendrical rites,
healing rituals, masquerades, and other kinds of ritual occasions.
Ritual performances often include diverse ritual events, activities, and objects, special
ways of speaking, songs, dances, and distinctive costumes, built structures, and locales.
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In different regions and different African societies, these diverse media are organized in
particular dramatic configurations, incorporating distinctive meanings and references to
specific social environments, histories, and cultural philosophies. Feasting and
celebration are normally part of the occasion as well, which increases the number of
people involved.
The Otjiserandu Commemorations of the Herero people of Namibia and Botswana
provide one example. During this ceremony, Herero communities come together to
remember those who died in the war with the German colonial presence in the territory (a
war which saw the first genocide of the twentieth century, in which 80 percent of the
Herero nation perished). Practiced annually since the 1923 death of paramount chief
Samuel Maherero, the commemorations are also known as “flag ceremonies” because the
several communities that comprise the Herero people are commonly referred to as
different “flags.” These ritual performances take place over several days and include
dancing, marching, horseback riding, striking dress, praise songs, prayers, speeches, and
observances at ancestral graves. The Otjiserandu Commemorations focus on
remembrance and identity, at once honoring nineteenth and twentieth century heroes, and
constituting contemporary social groups and relations; they are also deeply enmeshed
with contemporary political life in Namibia.
Initiation into adulthood is one of the most widespread rites of passage in Africa.
Many societies have a history of both male and female initiation, including Maasai and
Kikuyu in Kenya, Ndebele in southern Africa, and Kuranko in Sierra Leone. While others
practice male initiation only (e.g., Afikpo Igbo in Nigeria, Wagenia of the Democratic
Republic of the Congo), initiation for women alone is rare. In all cases, notions of
personhood and ethnic identity are fundamental to initiation into adulthood. Initiation
marks social maturity and the end of childhood, but people in different societies see
adulthood as beginning at different ages and stages of biological maturation. In Kenya,
for example, Kisii people initiate their children at around eight years old (younger than in
precolonial times), while Maasai initiate children into adulthood between fifteen and
eighteen years of age. Ritual performances associated with initiation into adulthood are a
focus of elaborate attention in some societies, while for others they are a relatively minor
occasion.
Political transitions are also occasions marked by ritual performances, illustrating
another type of initiation and rite of passage. These performances help to legitimate the
office involved, whether it is chief, king, association head, or another position. They also
validate the person who assumes office as an appropriate office bearer and confer on
them both rights and duties of office. The person involved thus takes on a new social
identity and enters into social relations that make him or her accountable to various
constituencies (and vice versa). At the same time, these ritual performances might
provide occasions through which participants contest issues of succession and influence
and reinterpret historical relations and precedents. They might also be seen as ritually
cleansing and restoring society after an uncertain interim between office bearers.
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Herero women in distinctive dress watch men preparing to march
during the Otjiserandu Commemorations at Okahandja, Namibia, 2001.
Photo © Casper W.Erichsen.
Many such roles and ritual performances in Africa have combined political, economic,
and religious concerns, from precolonial times to the present, though the specific nature
of these concerns may change over time. This can be seen, for instance, in installation
ceremonies for the Oba of the Yoruba people in Nigeria, the king of Bamum in
Cameroon, or the Kabaka of the Baganda people of Uganda (recently allowed to hold
office again by the national government). The pageantry of the ritual performance
represents and invokes the range of social groups and relations involved, as well as the
moral values that support the office and relations. In Swazi society, the king participates
in an elaborate annual ritual performance called Nc’wala that strengthens him and his
position and renews and cleanses the entire kingdom. In contemporary African nation
states, presidential inaugurations and national celebrations are also related ritual
performances. Initially created at and after independence, they often draw on the
symbolism of these other, long-standing political rituals as well as aspects of European
state pageantry and more recently developed ceremonial forms.
Healing rituals constitute another important and extremely varied kind of ritual
performance common throughout Africa. In many cases these are relatively small-scale
ceremonies that chiefly involve close family members and perhaps a consulting medical
specialist. One such example from the Ga people in Ghana is the cleansing rite called
naabu daimo, which might be prescribed by a spirit medium for various ailments.
Participants in the ritual performance might include only two or three family members in
addition to the spirit medium. Like other ritual performances, however, it has a complex
structure combining many elements and media, including incantations, libations,
proverbs, and ritual acts, objects, and places. In other cases, however, healing rituals can
be elaborate events that incorporate entire village sections, extended families, or draw
people from a number of different villages and towns. Anthropologist Victor Turner has
described such occasions of ritual performance in Ndembu villages in northwestern
Zambia in the early 1950s. These “rituals of affliction” included many different kinds of
performance, including specific rites for various maladies and misfortunes, such as
hunting problems or reproductive troubles. In each case diagnosis drew attention to
certain ancestor spirits. The patient was treated by people who once suffered the same
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problems themselves, and who had thus become adepts in the ritual, forming an
association or cult defined by their common affliction. The entire process could take
several days, and rituals could be repeated or new ones tried if the patient did not
improve. After going through the performance, the patient also became a member of the
group, and could participate in ritual performances for healing others.
In many parts of Africa, spirit possession cults are also related to healing, with
members recruited in a similar way. The presence of a spirit is initially manifested
through health problems. These are treated through ritual performance in which the spirit
involved possesses the patient for the first time, is identified and appeased, and the
patient is incorporated into the group. In most cases, the patient develops a continuing
relation with the possessing spirit, as in Bori cults in Niger. In different societies, the
spirits may represent gods, ancestors, or be associated with other historical beings.
Among the Iteso of western Kenya, for instance, there are two sorts of possession spirits,
local spirits of the dead (ipara), and spirits of other ethnicities, said to be the spirits of
strangers once killed by Iteso and named after rivers and spirits found among neighboring
peoples. During ritual performance, a number of different spirits may possess those
attending. This is common in many other parts of Africa where possession exists as well,
such as zar cults in the northern Sudan. In most cases, these ritual performances include
singing, dancing, special forms of speech, offerings, types of dress particular to
individual spirits, and objects with symbolic meanings specific to their cultural settings.
Though far from exhaustive, this brief set of examples provides an initial sense of the
range, variety, and importance of ritual performance in Africa. Ritual performance
usually represents and recreates key moral values and social relations. The precise nature
of those values and relations and the ways that they are represented and invoked vary in
different African societies and depend on the type of ritual performance. Through
performance people give these values and relations an embodied sense that differs from
(but draws on) other contexts and experiences of daily life. At the same time, ritual
performance heightens their emotional and aesthetic impact. In this way, ritual
performances can often help produce a sense that the existing organization of social life is
a natural order, the way it should be. At the same time, however, ritual performances can
also provide a forum where contradictions of social organization and problems in social
relations can be raised and addressed, if not resolved. Similarly, while the social
transformations accomplished through ritual performances can simultaneously help create
and legitimate differences of status, power, and authority based on gender, age, caste,
wealth, ethnicity, or other criteria, the performances might also incorporate settings
where such differences and values are challenged by people who usually have no
opportunity to do so. People participate in diverse social interactions during ritual
performances, which can also become occasions through which participants continue and
sometimes mediate social conflicts over many issues. Ritual performances also contribute
to a number of other social and psychological processes, which vary according to specific
context, society, and occasion. It is important to note that at times ritual performances can
also be enormously entertaining social events for those participating.
Some events, activities, songs, speech genres, and so forth, might be unique to a
particular kind of ritual performance in a community. However, other aspects of the
many media and events combined in ritual performance may not be limited to those
contexts, forging links to other occasions and types of expressive culture. For instance,
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the Okiek people of Kenya sing dozens of songs of several different genres when they
initiate children into adulthood through ritual performance. Many of these are particular
to initiation, with some specific to ceremonies for either boys or girls. Yet other songs are
sung during other ritual performances as well, creating continuities and relations between
initiation and other Okiek life cycle rituals. Similarly, the ritual mabwaita shrine is
constructed not only during initiation, but on a wide range of other occasions.
Masquerade performances common in many parts of western Africa provide further
examples of the ways that expressive forms and media can both distinguish particular
types of ritual performance and link them to other domains of life and performance. One
of the best known art works of the Baga people in Guinea, for example, is D’mba, a
female figure that idealizes the role of mother (and known in most art historical literature
as Nimba). Worn and danced with a raffia and cloth costume, D’mba appears at a number
of life cycle events (births, marriages, and wakes) and harvest festivals, as well as secular
receptions held to welcome visiting dignitaries. The way that D’mba is incorporated into
each type of ritual performance, however, and the other aspects with which it is combined
in each case identify and differentiate the occasions. In Nigeria, the masquerades of the
Igbo peoples show enormous regional variety in form, history, and particular characters
represented, though most masks are understood to be manifestations of supernatural and
ancestral spirits. Different age-grades of men dance different masks, each with specified
occasions for performing, such as agricultural festivals and life cycle rituals.
Herero men wear uniforms that
indicate their “flag” to march to the
grave of late Paramount Chief Samuel
Maherero, during the Otjiserandu
Commemorations at Okahandja,
Namibia, 2001.
Photo © Casper W.Erichsen.
People throughout Africa often consider some of their ritual performances to be
central to their cultural tradition, history, and ethnic identity, but ceremonies are not
unchanging. As historical and social circumstances alter over time, people may change
aspects and interpretations of their ritual performance. Igbo masquerades, for instance,
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incorporated many new characters and costume types during the twentieth century, and
the size of masks themselves also increased. Some Igbo masquerade performances have
also increasingly become a kind of secular entertainment.
The Nc’wala ceremony of the Ngoni people of eastern Zambia also illustrates
historical transformations in a ritual performance regarded as an icon of tradition and
identity within the community. Related to the Swazi Nc’wala ceremony described above,
the Ngoni developed their own version of Nc’wala after they settled in this area in the
late nineteenth century. Originally a first fruits celebration, the Nc’wala ceremony was
one way through which they established and maintained political control there. Colonial
and postcolonial governments banned Ngoni ritual performance from about 1900 until
1980, when the annual ceremony was revived. In its current form, the Nc’wala is a ritual
performance that displays and helps to create Ng’oni identity within the Zambian state,
but the performance also includes political officials in ways that simultaneously evoke
images of national unity. Some Ngoni have made efforts to promote the event as a tourist
attraction as well.
Writing the histories of the diverse traditions of ritual performance in Africa is an
important task for further research in folklore, anthropology, and art history. An essential
element of that, and equally important in its own right, is scholarly work that seeks to
understand the structures, meanings, and experience of ritual performance as expressive
culture and social action. Both of these tasks are included by the approaches in the fields
of folklore and anthropology known as performance analysis.
Performance Analysis
Performance analysis seeks to understand the ways that people produce structure,
process, and meaning in ritual performance by examining particular occasions and
specific examples. This concern with actual performances foregrounds processual and
temporal processes and emphasizes empirical, ethnographic research. The approach
situates the occasions in their cultural and sociological contexts, analyzes the multiple
expressive forms, media, and actors involved, and usually considers poetic and aesthetic
aspects of ritual performance. Performance analysis also recognizes the emergent and
creative aspects of ritual, exploring the imaginative variation, adaptation, and
improvisation incorporated into ritual performance in different cultures and settings.
Performance analysis diverges from approaches that define ritual as tradition-bound
repetition, unchanging in form and sequence. Performance analysis has also been applied
to storytelling, music, dance, festivals, and other expressive forms.
Performance analysis emerged as a recognized approach in the 1970s, initially rooted
in attempts in folklore and anthropology to incorporate greater concern with context and
move away from approaches that relied chiefly on text analysis, in dramaturgical models
in social theory, and in the contrast between competence and performance drawn by
linguist Noam Chomsky. Later, scholars in theater studies such as Richard Scheckner
also contributed to the emerging synthesis. In folklore and anthropology, Dell Hymes,
Richard Bauman, and Roger Abrahams were particularly central at the time in developing
this mode of performance analysis. Earlier anthropological work on myth, ritual, and
symbolism provided a strong foundation for them, including work by two prominent
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Africanists: Victor Turner’s analyses of Ndembu ceremonies in Zambia in the early
1950s, and Audrey Richard’s study of Bemba girls’ initiation in Zambia (then Rhodesia)
in the 1930s. Both Richards and Turner described and analyzed actual ceremonies in
detail, including indigenous commentaries on ritual symbols and procedures. Turner’s
work in symbolic analysis converged with a growing concern with communicative and
semiotic frameworks, bringing greater attention and prominence to performance analysis
in ritual studies.
Considering specific ritual performances as actualized can show the ways that ritual
structure emerges and changes. At the same time, it can also highlight less-structured,
unexpected, and contradictory aspects of ritual. The multiple perspectives and
experiences inherent in ritual performance should be prominent in performance analysis.
At times these different perspectives diverge and can reveal tensions among the actors
and interests involved, differences of power, contradictions within the cultural values and
social relations that inform the ritual, and historical shifts in ritual procedures and
interpretations. Further development of performance analysis in the 1990s has included
greater attention to wider scale political, economic, and historical processes that help to
shape ritual performance, as well as continued attention to the relations among esthetics,
cultural values and meaning, and social life.
References
Abrahams, Roger. 1972. Folklore and Literature as Performance. Journal of the Folklore Institute
8:75–94.
Bauman, Richard. 1977. Verbal Art as Performance. Rowley, Mass: Newbury House.
——. 1992. Performance. In Folklore, Cultural Performances, and Popular Entertainments, ed.
Richard Bauman. New York: Oxford University Press.
Bauman, Richard, and Charles Briggs. 1990. Poetics and Performance as Critical Perspectives on
Language and Social Life. Annual Review of Anthropology 19:59–88.
Beidelman, T.O. 1966. Swazi Royal Ritual. Africa. 36, no. 4:373–405.
Boddy, Janice. 1989. Wombs and Alien Spirits: Women, Men, and the Zar Cult in Northern Sudan.
Madison: University of Wisconsin Press.
Cole, Herbert, and Chike Aniakor. 1984. Igbo Arts: Community and Cosmos. Los Angeles:
Museum of Cultural History.
Drewal, Margaret. 1991. The State of Research on Performance in Africa. African Studies Review,
34, no.3:1–65.
Fitzgerald, Dale. 1975. The Language of Ritual Events among the Ga of Southern Ghana. In
Sociocultural Dimensions of Language Use, ed. M.Sanches and B.Blount. New York: Academic
Press.
Fortes, Meyer. 1962. Ritual and Office in Tribal Society. In Essays on the Ritual of Social
Relations, ed. M.Gluckman. Manchester: Manchester University Press.
Hendrickson, Hildi. 1996. Bodies and Flags: The Representation of Herero Identity in Colonial
Namibia. In Clothing and Differences, ed. Hildi Hendrickson. Durham: Duke University Press.
Karp, Ivan. 1990. Power and Capacity in Iteso Ritual Possession. In Personhood and Agency: The
Experience of Self and Other in African Cultures, ed. Michael Jackson and Ivan Karp.
Stockholm: Almqvist and Wiksell International.
Kratz, Corinne A. 1993. Affecting Performance: Meaning, Movement, and Experience in Okiek
Women’s Initiation. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press.
Lamp, Frederick. 1996. The Art of Baga. New York: The Museum for African Art.
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Richards, Audrey. 1956. Chisungu. London: Faber and Faber.
Turner, Victor. 1967. Forest of Symbols. Ithaca: Cornell University Press.
——. 1968. Drums of Affliction. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
——. 1969. The Ritual Process. Chicago: Aldine.
——. 1982. From Ritual to Theater. New York: PAJ Publications.
CORINNE A. KRATZ
See also Divination; Initiation; Islamic Brotherhoods; Performance in Africa;
Spirit Possession; Theater
RWANDA (REPUBLIC OF RWANDA)
Located in southeastern Africa and landlocked by Uganda, Tanzania, Burundi, and the
Democratic Republic of Congo, Rwanda is a temperate country of over 7 million people.
Kigali, the capital and largest city, has a population of 257,000. The majority of
Rwandans are of the Hutu group (89%), while 10 percent are Tutsi, and 1 percent are
Twa. The nation’s major languages are Kinyarwanda, French, Kiswahili, and English.
Sixty-five percent of the population is Roman Catholic, 25 percent practice traditional
indigenous religions, 9 percent are Protestant, and 1 percent is Muslim.
Once a harmonious multiethnic hierarchical society, Rwanda began to unravel in 1959
when the Hutu overthrew the Tutsi monarchy. On July 1, 1962, Rwanda gained its
independence from Belgium after forty-six years of colonization. Within ten years, ethnic
violence began. The years since independence became increasingly violent and, in the
1994, the Hutu-dominated government, assisted by French military “advisers,” initiated a
hundred-day genocide, during which an estimated one million Tutsis and politically
moderate Hutus were murdered. Animosity between the Hutu and Tutsi groups is a result
of the nation’s colonial history. In precolonial times, the Tutsi traditionally acted as the
aristocratic “protectors” of the Hutu “clients” who herded cattle and provided other
services for the Tutsi elite, while the Twa, a pygmy group, were the hunters. This feudal
system was manipulated by Rwanda’s German colonizers and later by the Belgians, who
used as the popular “divide and conquer” tactic of administering colonial rule.
In 1961, pre-independence elections implemented Gregoire Kayibanda’s Hutu
Emancipation Movement; the Tutsi lost their dominant position to the Hutu. Upon this
reversal of powers came violent backlashes against the former Tutsi elite. Violence
escalated for over thirty years and culminated in the 1994 genocide. It is estimated that
over one million were killed in 1994 and approximately 2 million of the nation’s citizens
live in exile in neighboring countries. Despite recent trials of the War Crimes
Commission, peace has not yet returned to the war-torn country. Rwanda’s health system,
infrastructure, government, economy, culture, and society have all suffered traumatic
losses as a result of 1994’s violent events.
Rwanda’s natural resources include tungsten, tin, and cassiterite, while the agricultural
sector produces coffee, tea, pyrethrum, beans, and potatoes. Principle industries of the
nation are mining, food processing, and light consumer goods.
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Rwandan poet Abbe Alexis Kagame is internationally renowned for his poetry and
studies of traditional Rwandan poetry. Some of his works have been translated into
French from Kinyarwanda, Rwanda’s official language.
JENNIFER JOYCE
RWANDA: TALES OF GENOCIDE
Folklore has it that Watutsi (or Tutsi) cattle breeders began arriving in this area of central
Africa from the Horn of Africa in the fifteenth century, whereupon they gradually
subjugated the majority Hutu inhabitants. The Tutsis established a monarchy headed by
an umwami (king) and a feudal hierarchy of Tutsi nobles and gentry. Through a contract
known as ubuhake, the Hutu farmers pledged their services and those of their descendants
to a Tutsi lord, in return for the loan of cattle and use of pastures and arable land. Thus,
the Tutsi reduced the Hutu to virtual serfdom. The earliest known inhabitants of what is
now Rwanda were the Batwa Pygmies, an ethnic group that still lives in the country
today but makes up only 1 percent of the population. The Batwa held sway over much of
the mountainous terrain until around the eleventh century, when Hutu farmers migrated
into the region and displaced them. A few hundred years later, the Hutus were subjugated
by the warriorlike and pastoralist Tutsis, who established their harsh system of feudalism
on the area.
The Tutsi reign was characterized by the absolute rule of the umwami who, with a
great amount of religious ceremony and formal conqueror’s pomp, oversaw the extraction
of labor from the Hutus and determined which of them received land, and how much was
allotted to them. The status quo remained until a couple of European powers, namely
Britain and Germany, decided to apportion large swathes of eastern Africa in the late
nineteenth century. The British gained Uganda and Kenya, while the Germans took
Burundi and Rwanda.
German colonialism was accompanied by the coming of Christian missionaries in this
area. The influence of Germany on the territory came to an abrupt halt in the second
decade of the twentieth century, when the end of World War I forced it to hand over all
of its African territories to the League of Nations.
The League of Nations promptly allotted Rwanda to Belgium; apparently this was an
earnest token of reparation to Belgium for its suffering during the war. No such political
compassion was applied to the Africans, however, who subsequently remained the
victims of European colonialism.
The Belgians found it administratively convenient to not only uphold, but also
increase, the power of the Tutsis in Rwanda, allowing the tribal minority to enjoy even
fuller control of the country’s bureaucratic, military and educational systems and, by
extension, the large Hutu population. The Belgian-backed Tutsi leadership began to
unravel in the late 1950s, when Hutus started demanding improvements in their living
conditions and an easing of their ethnic suppression. The response from a newly
empowered and particularly ruthless Tutsi clan in 1959 was to resist. However, this
course of action failed to subdue the Hutus. In the ensuing conflict, an estimated 100,000
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Tutsis were massacred, and many fled into exile. The restive Hutu population initiated a
revolt in November 1959, resulting in the overthrow of the Tutsi monarchy. Since then,
there have continued to be periods of violent turmoil.
With some 8 million inhabitants, Rwanda was until recently one of the world’s most
densely populated countries. The Batwa make up only 1 percent, whereas the Hutu and
Tutsi comprise 85 percent and 14 percent, respectively, of the total population in
Rwanda.
Rwandans speak Kinyarwanda, and most of them are Christians, although some still
practice their traditional religion. Nevertheless, the Batwa people stand out in terms of
cultural distinctiveness. Batwa tradition is rich in song, dance, and music, and cultural
gatherings are firmly integrated in the social life of the Batwa. The Batwa form an
isolated and marginalized group in Rwandan society. Traditionally, other groups look
down upon them as uncultured and unclean. It is within this political and cultural
atmosphere that folklore of the Rwandans is created and celebrated.
The Rwandans, like other African peoples, have a rich tradition of folkloristic
materials. These materials serve as the reservoir of the people’s values and history. Being
an oral culture, with very few individuals literate, these materials serve to also express the
ethical code and hopes of the people. Folklore is deeply embedded in Rwandan daily life.
It is notable, however, that scholarly studies of folkloristic material remain sparse.
Despite having oral folktales, riddles, proverbs, and songs, which are integrated in the
peoples’ way of life, very little meaningful study has been carried out on these materials.
New genres of folklore, such as the confession or the individual life experience story,
have evolved in the tumultuous era of genocide, but these developments have not been
extensively studied by folklorists.
In terms of material culture, the Rwandans produce many beautiful crafts. Women
weave baskets and mats from banana leaves, grasses, and papyrus fibers. Geometrical
designs, usually in black, white and red, are often woven into these objects. It is
considered a sign of wealth and status to own many decorated baskets and mats. Men do
wood carving and make drums pipes for smoking, as well as stools, knives, handles,
bowls, and jugs.
Many traditional musical instruments are played in Rwanda. Stringed instruments such
as the lulunga (an eight-stringed instrument similar to a harp) accompany singing and
dancing. The mbira or kalimba is a thumb piano. Flutes are made from reeds. Drums are
very important in Rwandan music and drummers often play in groups of seven or nine.
The drums are of different sizes and each produces a distinct tone. Together the
drummers produce a complex rhythm.
Rwanda also has a rich tradition of stories and folklore. Storytelling and public
speaking are much admired and good storytellers are honored. Many stories have a
message and are used to teach values such as cooperation or generosity. Other stories tell
of the exploits of heroes or the suffering caused by evil spirits. Some stories are
deliberately suppressed, however, since they glorify the Tutsi feudal system that was
overthrown by the Hutu in 1959.
Rwandan ethnic groups, namely the Batwa, the Hutu, and the Tutsi, have a welldeveloped and sophisticated folklore, which embodies their history, traditions, mores,
worldview, and wisdom. Their legends recount the movement of people to and from the
rift valley, into the hills, the grasslands, and the lake regions. Famous historical
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individuals are represented in myths and legends. Myths include accounts of how cattle
were given to a certain people by God, so when they went on cattle raids they were
merely taking back what was rightfully theirs. Folktales try to answer etymological
questions, such as why the hyena has a limp, and the origin of death. In Rwandan culture
the message that men would not die was given to a chameleon, but he was so slow that a
bird got to man before him and gave them the message that men would die. Folktales also
recount the adventures of tricksters. In Rwanda, tricksters are usually the hare or the
tortoise.
The Rwandans have a large store of riddles, proverbs, and sayings, which are still an
important aspect of daily speech. Riddles are usually exchanged in the evening before a
storytelling session. Riddling sessions are usually competitions between two young
people who fictionally bet villages, or cattle, or other items of economic life on the
outcome. In Rwandan culture, as in other African cultures, riddling during daylight hours
is prohibited.
Proverbs are social phenomena; they can be defined as messages coded by tradition
and transmitted in order to evaluate human behavior. Proverbs reveal key elements of a
culture, such as the position and influence of women, morality, what is considered
appropriate behavior, and the importance of children. The proverbs are woven in day-today speech.
The Rwandan Muslims have a rich oral tradition that has been influenced by Islam.
Stories of genies are told along with stories of the Hare and the Hyena. There is also a
very rich tradition of popular poetry that has been part of Swahili cultural life for over
four centuries.
Rwandan radio and television shows use folklore as part of their daily programming.
Oral literature is part of the university syllabus. Part of the requirement in these classes is
for students to collect folklore from their community and subject them to analysis—the
beginning of a scholarly tradition. Literate Rwandans believe that folklore is an important
part of their heritage and culture and are taking steps to preserve and encourage folklore
and education. While global culture in the shape of movies, music, and written literature
is replacing folklore, Rwandans are actively involved in its maintenance. These materials
call for critical study.
References
Finnegan, Ruth. 1970. Oral Literature in Africa. London: Oxford University Press.
Knappert, Jan. 1979. Four Centuries of Swahili Verse: A Literary History and Anthology. London:
Heinemann.
Okpewho Isidore. 1983. Myth in Africa. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
EGARA KABAJI
See also Central African Folklore: Overview; East African Folklore: Overview;
Folktales
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S
SAHIR (EVIL MOUTH)
Gaze and Utterance in Evil Eye Scholarship
Sahir (Evil Mouth) is a concept related to the Evil Eye, a belief of the Muslim Arabs of
northern Sudan. The casting of the Evil Eye is attributed to utterances in the form of
metaphors, rather than the literal gaze of one’s eye. A common situation in which these
dramatic metaphors are used is a speech event involving the speaker (sahhar) of the
metaphor, a victim (the subject of the metaphor), and an audience. In a sahir situation, a
sahhar attempts to cast the metaphor at persons or objects by comparing them to
something else. One example involves the story of a sahhar who saw two healthy
children dressed in red shorts and shirts. He said to their father, “Your children look like
Union Carbide batteries (commonly red in color).” The children are said to have then
caught a strange stomach disease, and they died two days later. Accounts of these
situations circulate in the form of a genre called sahra.
The evil mouth has been regarded as “subordinate to [the Evil Eye] and a marginal
relative to it” (Flores-Meiser 1976). The emphasis in Evil Eye scholarship has been on
the gaze rather than on the evil mouth. This emphasis may be because the European
perspective is more vision-centered—looking and staring are said to have a more constant
and generally defined value than the utterance (Spooner 1976). The existence of the
phenomenon of the evil mouth in Arab and Muslim contexts has been noted by Edward
Westermarck (1926, Vol. 2). He points to the belief in the evil mouth among the
Moroccans, and how they greatly feared the utterance when combined with a look.
A Performance-Centered Approach to Sahir
Ideally, sahir is a performance in which a competence, albeit deadly, is displayed. It
involves an actor, an audience, a subject, and a judgment. As a performance, it is keyed
and can be disclaimed (Bauman 1977). Besides the social risks that sahhars take, sahir
involves the common risks of performance, in that it is an assumption of responsibility
for a display of competence before an audience.
A sahhar initiates a sahir event by offering a simile that likens the physical attributes
and actions of a subject (person or object) to something else. When the subject is a person
or the property of a person, that person will normally utter or perform traditional
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invocations to protect himself or his property from the adverse consequences of sahir.
The audience, on the other hand, laughs at good similes, though they are not unaware of
the evil consequences that may result, or that the subject claims may result, from sahir.
Situations of Sahir
The sahhar may utter the sahir voluntarily, or he may be pressured into uttering it.
Understandably, sahhars concur that they are at their best in the former situation. People
agree that a sahhar wears on his face an expression that shifts between a smile and
suppressed laugh when he has finished mentally conjuring up his simile. Recognizing this
expression as a key to performance, the audience then urges him to utter his sahir.
Sahir emerges out of a variety of situations. A sahhar may be invited to speak sahir.
Occasionally people ask him to yashar (bewitch) persons or objects that look a little odd
or different. Furthermore, a sahhar may be provoked into saying sahir. One man with
curled, grey hair got on the nerves of a sahhar, who then said, “Get off my back with your
hair that looks like the vapor arising from hot porridge.” Those who are exceptionally
scared of sahir are the most exposed to this kind of sahir. Sahir may also arise from a
competition between sahhars called for by a leading practitioner of their art. People of a
village may also ask a visiting sahhar to compete in sahir with their local sahhar.
Interestingly, a victim may hire a sahhar to cast the Evil Eye on a sahhar who hurt him or
her before.
There are two typical situations in which a sahhar may disclaim his or her
performance. The first is when he has been asked by the audience to bewitch somebody
or something. The sahhar may begin by saying “Ashar layk or layh shinu” (What am I to
bewitch you/him/it for, a sahir would be wasted on you/ him/it), and then utter the sahir
metaphor anyway. The second situation in which disclaimers are used to preface sahras is
when someone, either in anticipation of sahir or because he is exceptionally afraid of
sahir, asks the sahhar in advance “Ma tasharni” (Don’t bewitch me).
Response to Sahir
The responses of the targets of sahir range from laughing to actually fighting with the
sahhar. A laughing response, however, does not mean that the subject may not later have
second thoughts about the effect of sahir. Occasionally, the subject can react with
violence. A sahhar may actually find it necessary to flee the scene to avoid retaliation. A
subject may choose to reprove a sahhar for making him a target of his metaphor. He may
tell the sahhar that he is genuinely scared of sahir and indicate to him the kind of miseries
it causes him, such as headaches and the like. Another possible tactic for victims is to
complain to the sahhar’s elders. Villagers may, however, impose unannounced sanctions,
such as “taking another road if they happen to meet with sahhars,” as it is usually
expressed. The magnitude of such sanctions may account for the decision of many aging
sahhars to quit this particular vocation.
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Wad al-Tom of Atmur village and the
“dean” of sahhars (those who assault
with words).
Photo © Corinne A.Kratz.
In order to stop the sahra, or to forestall its adverse consequences after its utterance,
the target or victim may perform various prophylactic rituals. The sahhars, who are
especially insulted by these prophylactic measures, make these countermeasures in turn
the object of their ridiculing “meta-sahra.”
Evaluation of Sahir
Audiences penalize incompetent sahhars for flaws in their display of competence, either
by token laughter or by not laughing at all. Poor sahir metaphors are ignored, and
therefore do not become popular. When someone attempts sahir, but fails with the
audience, he may be asked to take it to Wad al-Tom, the master of the genre, to “grade” it
for him. There is a hierarchy within the sahir profession. Sahhars apparently always have
a “dean,” recognized by his peers and by the people at large. To test and “license”
sahhars, a dean may identify bewitching targets for them to see how well they do. A
meta-sahra acknowledges one of these deans as “the gas tank from which other sahhars
pump gas (that is, sahir)” (Ibrahim 1994).
Besides laughter, a successful sahra is rewarded with praise for its precision. The
criterion of exact similitude in guessing out analogues is paramount for the audience. For
example, one sahhar was asked by some of his audience to show them exactly how the
terms of one of his sahir metaphors matched.
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A plate plastered above a door to divert
the evil eye.
Photo © Abdullahi A.Ibrahim.
The audience expresses its appreciation of sahir through gun metaphors. Their delight in
the exactitude of the metaphor is expressed in terms of “shooting the target dead,” and
audiences normally punctuate their laughter with expressions such as “he killed him,”
“have mercy on him,” or “you are really bad!” An audience may also praise the power of
sahir metaphor by uttering the tawidhah (a religious prophylactic). Sahhars themselves
sometimes take such utterances as indicators of the audience’s appreciation of their
satanic power.
Sahir emerges as a continuum ranging from the evil gaze to the articulated metaphor.
However, the most evil sahir is held to be the staring kind, that is, the one that has not
been articulated. It is likened to a shot from a pistol with a silencer.
Debating Sahir’s Efficacy
Northern Sudanese debate the efficacy of sahir. Sahhars, of course, object to being
accused of possessing the ‘ayn hara. Instead, they argue that sahir stems from an
irresistible imaginative urge, and is not from fakr (envy). For them, sahir is the creation of
an artful mind. It is wanasa (whiling away time), or a joke that is meant to make people
laugh. Sahhars may concede a degree of evilness to their sahir (they usually confess this
rather jokingly). A sadhar may argue that his own sahir metaphors are mild, attributing
more dangerous powers to rival sahhars. A sahhar jokingly described the sahir of one of
his colleagues as kaab (really evil), like the sting of a scorpion, while his own was only
like a prick of a water crab. A sahhar may similarly describe his sahir as buckshot
compared to the bullet shot of other sahhars.
An attractive hypothesis, espoused mainly by the sahhars themselves, speculates that
affliction falls only on those who are really scared of sahir. It is either a coincidence or a
sabab (cause or agency), referring to the belief that every occurrence is predestined by
Allah, and that natural causation and people’s actions are mere agents for the predestined
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to take place. Sahhars may also point to a rational cause for an inadequacy or a
misfortune held to result from sahir.
References
Bauman, Richard. 1977. Verbal Art as Performance. Rowley, Mass.: Newbury House.
Flores-Meiser, Enya. 1976. The Hot Mouth and Evil Eye. In The Evil Eye. Ed. by Clarence
Maloney. New York: Columbia University Press.
Ibrahim, Abdullahi. 1994. Assaulting with Words: Popular Discourses and the Bridle of Shari’ah.
Evanston, Ill: Northwestern University Press.
Spooner, Brian. 1976. Anthropology and the Evil Eye. In The Evil Eye. Ed. by Clarence Maloney.
New York: Columbia University Press.
Westermarck, Edward. 1926. Rituals and Belief in Morocco. Vol. 2. London: Macmillan.
ABDULLAHI ALI IBRAHIM
See also Evil Eye; Insults and Ribald Language; Performance in Africa
SAN
See Dance; Music in Africa; Southern African Oral Traditions
SANTERIA IN CUBA
Afro-Cuban Santeria, also known as La Regla de Ocha, La Religion Lucumi, and El
Santo, is a highly systematized and dynamic modern African diaspora religion that is
widely practiced well beyond the island of Cuba, by tens of thousands of ethnically
diverse people in the United States, Puerto Rico, Panama, Venezuela, Columbia, Mexico,
and Spain. The religion is grounded in reworked Yoruba patterns of cosmology,
philosophy, initiation, priesthood, divination, sacrifice, pharmacology, ritual language,
praise song repertoire, drumming, dance movement, spirit possession, iconography, and
altar assemblage. During the period of Spanish colonial rule, which ended in 1898,
Santeria incorporated elements of Cuban popular religion and material culture, including
the devotions of local Catholic saints, their festival calendar, and their Baroque religious
esthetic. It drew on other religious systems, such as the Kardecian Spiritist system of
mediumship for communicating with the dead. However, many initiates since the 1960s,
particularly the descendants of the nationalist Black American Yoruba Movement and
other ideologically antisyncretic Cuban, American, and Puerto Rican constituencies, have
sought to realign the practice with its West African origins.
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History
Members of the Yoruba-speaking subgroups, as well as many of their close neighbors to
the west and north who also embarked from the Bight of Benin, became known as
Lucumi, an ethnonym derived from the name of an ancient West African kingdom
between Ardra and Benin (Ulcumi, Oulcoumi), an early nickname for Yoruba-speaking
peoples, and the Yoruba greeting, olukumi (my friend). The Lucumi organized
themselves into societies and clubs called cabildos, some of which were attached to the
Catholic church and tended devotions of patron saints, such as the Sociedad de Socorros
Mutuos Nacion Lucumi bajo la advocacion de Santa Barbara (Society of Mutual Aid of
the Lucumi Nation under the Advocation of Santa Barbara) founded in Havana in 1820
(Ortiz 1951). The cabildos were “incubating cells” of the modern casa-templos (housetemples) of Yorubaderived religious practice in Cuba (Palmie 1993). The emergent
modern Afro-Cuban religious systems became known as reglas (orders), after the
relamentos (charters) that governed cabildo life (Murphy 1988, 33). The Lucumi religion
was called La Regla Lucumi or La Regla de Ocha (a contraction of the Lucumi term for
deity, orisha [Yoruba, orisha]) or Santeria (the way of the santos). The modern reglas
criterion of membership was not African ethnic affiliation but ritual initiation; their
constituencies became heterogeneous as the religions spread among the black, mulatto,
and white working classes in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.
Institutions and Personnel
The “Lucumi religion” is comprised of two distinct but related reglas, each with its own
priesthood, initiations, and ranking specialists. Priests who tend the pantheon of orishas,
or santos, are called santeros, although many consider this term—along with Santeria—
pejorative, and prefer the formal Lucumi titles. Male and female orisha priests make up
the casas (houses) of Ocha’s genealogical branches (ramas), while the babalawos—the
male diviners of the Ifa oracle, whose tutelary deity is Orunmila—make up the houses of
La Regla de Ifa. Both reglas count on master herbalists and drummers of the sacred twoheaded bata drums. The professional diviner and master of ceremonies of Ocha is the
oba-oriate or italero, who, along with his fellow Ocha priests, may divine with the
orisha’s 16-cowrie-shell system (‘dilogun). All initiates of Ifa and Ocha may divine with
the obi-coco oracle, the four shards of coconuts that replaced the Yoruba kola nut system.
The Ocha and Ifa systems are highly systematized, theologized, and textualized, given
this century’s educated priesthood, which has produced a corpus of published “manuals”
(e.g., Angarica 1955; Pichardo 1984; Castillo).
Cosmology
Modern Ocha cosmology and ritual represent a condensation and reworking of West
African religious principles. The African and Creole founders in Cuba organized the
prominent kingdom-based deity clusters of the Yoruba into a unified hierarchical Lucumi
pantheon of orishas under a High-God trinity. More than twenty orishas are called in the
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814
protocols of invocation, the oro del santo, during single ritual events, such as drummings,
initiations, and divination sessions. Each orisha of the pantheon played a determinate role
in God’s Creation; each was delegated by God a dimension of the human and natural
worlds and their associated processes; and each orisha “owns” a determinate functional
domain in a highly codified system of symbolic classification. Of the High-God Trinity,
Olodumare is the All-Powerful and most otiose (without specific functions); Olorun
(Owner of the Sky) is the firmament and embodies the powers of Olodumare as reflected
in the Sun; and Olofin (Owner of the Law) is the beginning, the end, and the evolution of
existence. Of the three, only Olofin is materially enshrined—within the secret altars of
babalawos, the priests of Ifa’s interpreter, the orisha Orunmila. Of these deities,
Oduduwa created the world and established the relation between the celestial realm and
human beings, including the mystery of human life and death; the im-maculate Obatala,
an earthly extension of Oduduwa, is the arch-divinity, “highest” authority, and “father” of
the orisha pantheon; that is, he created, and is the “owner of’ the orishas and human
beings; Olokun, the mysterious owner of the depths of the sea, is the great counterpart of
Orisha Oko, the Earth (la Tierra). The one-legged Osain is the owner of the earth’s forest
(el monte) of sacred plants (the religion’s pharmacology). Very close to the human world
are the omnipresent Elegba, the universal mediator, interpreter, and mischievous trickster
who opens the road, as well as puts a stone in the path; Ogun, who is war, blood, eternal
labor, and the creative and destructive force of iron technology; Oshosi, the brainy
pathfinder-hunter-magician who provides daily nourishment and keeps one out of traps.
The macho Shango, a great king, warrior, healer, dancer, and prophetic speaker carries
(and carries away) fire and problems on his head; the mendicant Babalu Aye (or
Asojuano) controls skin and internal diseases and is the beloved patron of the poor.
Yemaya, the all-embracing Seven Seas, is the great Mother of the World, including all
the orishas, and human beings. Oya-Yansan, the erstwhile warrior-spouse of Ogun and
Shango, controls meteorological changes and the swift transition between life and
death—figured in her patronage are the dead egun and ownership of the cemetery’s
perimeter. Ochun is the sensual mulata, the owner of the “river” and of “the blood that
runs through the veins”—three metaphors that define her as the nurturer and mediator of
relationships among and between people, families, human cultures, and supernatural.
Modern Ritual System
Ocha initiates “make” a single tutelary orisha and “receive” a standard group of four to
six other orisha protectors, all in a ceremony called the kariocha, which is phased over a
seven-day ritual period and is followed by a year of apprenticeship. Each initiation
reproduces, and thereby ensures the posterity of, the core orisha pantheon and its
associated bodies of specialized knowledge (e.g., prayer, herbalism, oracular narratives,
sacrificial formulae, and shrine arts). Initiation, along with day-to-day Ocha ritual,
restores health and well-being through the rigorous implementation of oracular
prescriptions, such as cleansings and sacrifices (ebo), graded acquisitions of the orishas’
spiritual power (ache), and attention to the family and priestly ancestors (eguns). Such
periodic ritual events also include drummings, which act as problem-solving ebo. Annual
events include the anniversary of priests’ initiations (cumpleanos) and the orishas’
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calendrical festivals, celebrated on the feast days of their Catholic saint counterparts
(December 4, for example, is the feast day of both Shango and St. Barbara). The great
annual cabildo processions for Yemaya and the Virgin of the Havana seaport town of
Regla brought tens of thousands of followers out in the streets each September 7.
Altars and Arts
The orishas’ enshrined objects consist of sets of consecrated stones (ota), cowrie shells,
and small cast, cut-out, or carved iconographic herramientas (tools), which are contained
in metal, wood, earthenware, and porcelain vessels, the last of which are imitations of the
soup tureens that used to grace the dining room sets of the Cuban nobility and
bourgeoisie. Priests hierarchically
Canastillero cabinet for orishas.,
Marianao, Havana, cuba, 1989. The
Yoruba-Cuban orishas are
hierarchically organized in vertical
African folklore
816
cabinets, which serve as domestic
altars.
Photo © David H.Brown.
arrange their soperas in multishelved, often glassed-in, cabinets called canastilleros,
which can mask as decorative domestic displays. For periodic and annual celebrations,
the orishas’ vessels are brought out, elevated on pedestals under dazzling canopied
“thrones” of satin, velvet, lace, chiffon, and lamé, and are draped with decorative squares
of brocaded and sequined fabric, called panos, which recall the mantos (capes) of the
Catholic saints. On the Middle Day of the Ocha initiation, the throne is occupied by the
iyawo, who wears the orisha’s royal regalia. This formal consecration garment, called
ropa de santo, includes a jewelryencrusted pasteboard crown and a satin gown or jacketand-pants ensemble. These Spanish colonial-era outfits are combined with Yorubaderived garlands of thick beadstrands and cowries (collares de mazo) and iconographic
hand-held dance wands (e.g., Shango’s thunderaxe, Yemaya’s and Ochun’s fans, Ogun’s
cutlass).
References
Angarica, Nicolas Valentin. 1955. Manual de Orihate: Religion Lucumi. Havana.
Bascom, William. 1952. Two Forms of Afro-Cuban Divination. Acculturation in the Americas.
Vol. 2, Proceedings and Selected Papers of the XXIX International Congress of Americanists.
Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
——. 1950. The Focus of Cuban Santeria. Southwestern Journal of Anthropology 6, no. 1:64–68.
Brown, David. 1993. Thrones of the Orishas: Afro-Cuban Altars. African Arts 26, no. 4:44–59, 85–
87.
Cabrera, Lydia. 1983. El monte: igbo-finda, ewe Orisha-Vititi nfinda; notas sobre las religiones, la
magia, las superstitiones, y el folklore de los negros Criollos y el Pueblo de Cuba. Miami:
Coleccion del Chichereku en el Exilo.
Castellanos, Jorge, and Isabel Castellanos. 1992. Cultura Afrocubana. Vol. 3, Las religiones y las
lenguas. Miami: Ediciones Universal.
Castillo, Jose M. 1976. Ifa en la tierra de Ifa. Miami.
Gleason, Judith. 1992. The King Does Not Lie: Initiation of a Shango Priest. Video 50 min.
Arlington, Va.: American Anthropological Association
Hunt, Carl. 1979. Oyotunji Village: The Yoruba Movement in America. Washington, D.C.:
University Press of America.
Mason, John and Gary Edwards. 1985. Black Gods: Orisa Studies in the New World. Brooklyn,
N.Y.: Yoruba Theological Archministry.
Murphy, Joseph. 1988. Santeria: An African Religion in America. Boston: Beacon Press.
Omari, Mikelle Smith. 1991. Completing the Circle: Notes on African Art, Society, and Religion in
Oyotunji, South Carolina. African Arts July:66–75, 96.
Ortiz, Fernando. 1951. Los Bailes y el Teatro de los Negros en el Folklore de Cuba. Havana:
Ediciones Cardenas y Cia.
——. 1921. Los Cabildos Afrocubanos. Revista bimestre Cubana 16:5–39.
Palmie, Stephan. 1993. Ethnogenetic Processes and Cultural Transfer in Afro-American Slave
Populations. In Slavery in the Americas. Ed. Wolfgang Binder. Wurtzburg: Konigshausen Un
Neumann, 337–63.
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Pichardo, Ernesto. 1984. Oduduwa/Obatala, Miami, Fla.: Rex Press.
Thompson, Robert Farris. 1993. Face of the Gods: Art and Altars of Africa and the AfricanAmericas. Exhibition Catalog. New York: Museum of African Art.
DAVID H.BROWN
See also Diaspora; Religion; Vodou
SÃO TOMÉ AND PRÍNCIPE
(DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC OF SÃO
TOMÉ AND PRÍNCIPE)
São Tomé and Príncipe are small tropical islands located off central Africa’s west coast.
The two islands have a combined population of 170,000 (2002). São Tomé is the nation’s
capital and largest city, with approximately 60,000 inhabitants. The population is
predominantly composed of a Portuguese-African mixture, with an African minority. The
most commonly spoken languages are Portuguese, Fang, and Kriolu. The majority of
people are Christian (80%), while 20 percent practice traditional indigenous religions.
Originally a slave depot, the islands were among the first to grow cocoa. Beginning
with riots in 1953, a liberation movement was active through the 1960s, with aid from the
mainland. But it was not until a revolution in Portugal in 1974 that independence came to
the Portuguese African colonies. After approx imately four-hundred years of Portuguese
rule, São Tomé and Príncipe gained independence on July 12, 1975, and subsequently
formed a one-party republic committed to Marxist-Leninism. In January 1991, the
nation’s first multiparty elections were held as part of a process of democratization. Part
of this political reform has been the development of a market economy in which former
state farms have been privatized. Such changes have made the country a more desirable
place to visit, and the tourist industry has subsequently benefited from increased revenue.
Fishing, coffee, cocoa, palm oil, bananas, and copra (dried coconut) are the major
exports.
A good deal of Portuguese culture was absorbed by the people, and festivals continue
to mark the Roman Catholic calendar. São Tomé and Príncipe are renowned as the place
of origin for the Luso-African artistic tradition. The poets Jose de Almeida and Francisco
Tenriero have brought recognition to the country, as they were the first poets to write
about African pride in the Portuguese language.
JENNIFER JOYCE
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SECRECY IN AFRICAN ORATURE
Secrecy is a powerful esthetic strategy underlying many forms of African orature. A
dialectic of concealment and revelation is implicit to narratives, legends, proverbs,
riddles, puzzles, songs, and praise poems—and to the visual arts related to these oral
media. Exploration of the uses of secrecy in African orature lends insight into the ways
secrecy embodies, protects, and selectively transmits knowledge in diverse contexts,
including initiations and gender dramas, royal rites and performances, processes of
divination and healing, and encounters with foreigners. By activating the tension between
clarity and obscurity implicit to knowledge itself, secrecy can structure experience so that
it mirrors and invokes the partiality of human understanding.
In Western societies, the word secrecy tends to summon sinister stereotypes. In Africa,
however, secrecy is considered to be a useful and positive strategy for the control of
knowledge (Nooter 1993). Knowledge is currency; like money, too much can be
dangerously abused and manipulated. Knowledge should therefore be acquired
progressively over the course of a lifetime. Expressive arts are often the mechanism for
the incremental transmission of such knowledge, whether in the form of proverbs,
masquerades, or songs. Yet, these are not literal or direct sources of information. Rather,
such art forms articulate and convey knowledge through metaphorical, allusive, and
polysemic signifiers. In such contexts, indirectness is a virtue, and ambiguity and
multivalent meanings are sought and valued.
In his book on the Poro secret association in Liberia, Beryl Bellman discusses the
“language of secrecy” that defines membership in exclusive institutions associated with
government, education, and healing. This “language” is composed of the procedures for
disclosing the presence of concealed information without revealing the information itself
(1984, 50). Ever since Georg Simmel’s 1908 landmark study of secrecy, it has been
recognized that the power of secrets lies not in their disclosure, but rather in the
paradoxical advertisement of secret knowledge that occurs while the secrets themselves
are protected.
Secrecy in Initiation Rites
Initiation is often surrounded by a veil of secrecy. Yet most of what is learned during
initiations is not a “profound revelation of new knowledge,” but rather a “poetic and
imaginative reconsideration of the familiar” (Beidelman 1993, 43). Among the Lega
peoples of eastern Democratic Republic of the Congo, for example, Bwami is an
association of ethical conduct, and its teachings are generated through initiation objects
and accompanying proverbs, maxims, and songs, which grow more complex and
multireferential with each ascending level. New configurations of objects produce new
and more complex meanings and associations (Biebuyck 1973, 93).
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Frequently, initiations are ways of setting up boundary markers between genders, agegrades, or classes. The solidarities and the divisions that secrecy creates between
members and non-members often hold more importance than the actual content of the
secrets themselves. Jan Vansina recounts, for example, that the secret of Kuba initiation
was that there was no secret (1973, 304). Yet dramatic tales of the ordeals to which
novices are submitted are a means of aggrandizing and mystifying male power through
the possession of “secrets” forbidden to women.
Secrecy and Gender
A language of secrecy often underlies gender dynamics. During Yoruba Gelede
masquerades, men personify women through mask performances and sing verses about
“our mothers, the witches, the nightbirds,” i n referen ce not on ly to the se powers of
women themselves, but to a more general conception of individuality that is based on
both exterior and interior aspects (Lawal 1996). All people are believed to have both an
outer head and an inner head, and as one Yoruba proverb states, “May my inner head not
spoil my outer one.” The true being, character, and intentions of a person are in constant
conflict with that person’s outward social persona. Women are perceived to be especially
capable of concealing their inner being with a composure and coolness that emanates
from their enhanced life force, and Yoruba men stress this distinction in the following
way: “Women are more secretive than we…. But we men usually open our secret to
anybody…. Women have many secrets they will never tell…except [to] their mothers”
(Drewal and Drewal 1983, 73).
In addition to the boundaries set by spoken language, secrecy may delimit space and
social difference through the sounds and silence of other-world beings (Peek 1994).
Initiation rites are often conducted outside of the view of women and noninitiates, but not
outside the range of their hearing. Auditory masks, spirit voices conveyed through
musical instruments such as bullroarers, and other aural signals may convey the presence
of the spirits to those who are excluded from the rites, or to initiates of lower ranks
(Lifschitz 1988). Likewise, silence is a powerful signifier of sacred or occult powers
(Peek 1994, 477–478). The space around a king, for example, may be rendered sacred by
the absence of verbal communication. Not only is a Benin king confined to the palace,
secluded from the public eye, but he is never heard to utter ordinary speech. The absence
of sound indicates the presence of the secret, erecting a boundary: “What is unknown
must be made present by an awareness of its absence” (Poppi 1993, 196–203).
Secrecy and Society
Through these dialectics of absence and presence, concealment and revelation, secrecy
structures the hierarchies that separate royals from nonroyals. In the Akan kingdom of
Akuapem, the king is accompanied by spokesmen, or counselors, who “mediate in all
verbal discourse with the king and protect him from danger and pollution. They are
visible metaphors of the invisible royal person” (Gilbert 1993, 134), and provide an
“extra authority of remoteness” for the king (Peek 1994, 477). Their emblems—gold-
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leaf-covered staffs with representational imagery on their finials—are made to “speak,”
for they evoke proverbs about leadership, moral conduct, and the dangers of power. One
staff depicts an egg to convey the idea that the state is like an egg: if handled carefully, it
will not break. Meaning emerges from the interplay of the visual, proverbial, and the
“nonverbally implicit.” Just as the power of proverbs comes from their ambiguity, there
may be more than one meaning for a single form.
Secrecy and Divination
Such indirect and implicit language also characterizes divination and spirit mediumship
in many parts of Africa. Diviners who become possessed by a spirit often speak with
nonhuman voices in an esoteric language (Peek 1994, 479). The language is perceptible
only to certain titled officials who intercede between the patient and the spirit. Among
Luba peoples of southeastern Democratic Republic of the Congo, for example, a diviner
becomes possessed by singing the songs for twins, esoteric songs that invoke the spirits’
attention. Once a spirit has come to mount the diviner’s head, the diviner’s own voice
becomes subsumed by that of the spirit, and only the diviner’s assistant, called a kitobo,
can translate for the participants in the consultation (Roberts 1999). The ability to speak
in such tongues is referred to as glossolalia, and serves to reinforce the diviner’s
linguistic access to realms inaccessible by most other people. Diviners, in other words,
like royals and initiates, acquire a literacy that defines social status and spiritual
prerogative (Peek 1991).
Other forms of divination serve as repositories of esoteric verse and secret prayers.
Muslim diviners recite the ninty-nine names of God and saintly poetry to invoke divine
blessing, while Yoruba Ifa diviners, called “fathers of the secrets,” defer to the 153,600
Ifa verses for secret directives of healing and guidance. Awo is a collective term for the
four classes of secret information in Yoruba culture. All awo categories of knowledge
revolve around Ifa divination practice, which provides the oral literature through which
they are defined and interpreted (Hallen and Abimbola 1993, 217).
Finally, the interactions that foreigners have sustained with Africans over the course of
several centuries have produced a body of secret knowledge and oral history. Secrecy is
implicit to every field researcher’s experience, whether in posing questions about highly
guarded arenas of knowledge or simply in the mythology of ethnography, which
presupposes the revelation of some “within.” Western epistemology posits that all
knowledge must be obtainable, and that scrutiny is the key to scientific discovery.
African aesthetic systems, by contrast, stress the inaccessibility, partiality, and dangers of
knowledge. As one Mende proverb states, “Beauty is best perceived from a distance,”
and as a wise Dangme official states, “Keep what you know not in your head, but in your
kneecap” (Murphy and Quarcoopome, quoted in Nooter 1993).
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References
, Wande, and Barry Hallen. 1993. Secrecy and Objectivity in the Methodology and
Literature of Ifa Divination. In Secrecy: African Art that Conceals and Reveals, ed. Mary
H.Nooter. New York: Museum for African Art.
Beidelman, T.O. 1993. Secrecy and Society: The Paradox of Knowing and the Knowing of
Paradox. In Secrecy: African Art that Conceals and Reveals, ed. Mary H.Nooter. New York:
Museum for African Art.
Bellman, Beryl L. 1984. The Language of Secrecy: Symbols and Metaphors in Poro Ritual. New
Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press.
Biebuyck, Daniel P. 1973. Lega Culture: Art, Initiation, and Moral Philosophy among a Central
African People. Berkeley: University of California Press.
Drewal, Henry John, and Margaret Thompson Drewal. 1983. Gelede: Art and Female Power
Among the Yoruba. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Finnegan, Ruth. 1970. Oral Literature in Africa. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Gilbert, Michelle. 1993. The Leopard Who Sleeps in a Basket: Akuapem Secrecy in Everyday Life
and in Royal Metaphor. In Secrecy: African Art that Conceals and Reveals, ed. Mary H. Nooter.
New York: Museum for African Art.
Lawal, Babatunde. 1996. The Gelede Spectacle: Art, Gender, and Social Harmony in an African
Culture. Seattle: University of Washington Press.
Lifschitz, Edward. 1988. Hearing is Believing: Acoustic Aspects of Masking in Africa. In West
African Masks and Cultural Systems, ed. S.L.Kasfir. Tervuren, Belgium: Musée Royal de
l’Afrique Centrale.
Nooter, Mary H., ed. 1993. Secrecy: African Art that Conceals and Reveals. New York: Museum
for African Art.
Peek, Philip M. 1991. African Divination Systems: Ways of Knowing. Bloomington: Indiana
University Press.
——. 1994. The Sounds of Silence: Cross-World Communication and the Auditory Arts in African
Societies. American Ethnologist 21, no. 3:474–494.
Poppi, Cesare. 1993. Sigma! The Pilgrim’s Progress and the Logic of Secrecy. In Secrecy: African
Art that Conceals and Reveals, ed. Mary H.Nooter. New York: Museum for African Art.
Roberts, Mary Nooter. 1999. Proofs and Promises: Setting Meaning before the Eyes. Artistry and
Insight: A Cross-Cultural Study of Divination in Central and West Africa, ed. John Pemberton
III. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press.
Simmel, Georg. [1908] 1950. “Secrecy” and “Secret Societies.” In The Sociology of Georg Simmel.
Tr. Kurt H.Wolff. Glencoe, Ill.: Free Press.
Vansina, Jan. 1973. Initiation Rituals of the Bushong. In Peoples and Cultures of Africa, Ed. Elliot
P.Skinner. Garden City, N.Y.: Natural History Press.
MARY NOOTER ROBERTS
SENEGAL (REPUBLIC OF SENEGAL)
Located on the coast of West Africa, the Republic of Senegal is a tropical country
neighbored by Mauritania, Mali, Guinea, Guinea-Bissau, and The Gambia. Of Senegal’s
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9,490,000 people, 36 percent are Wolof, 17 percent Fulani, 17 percent Serer, 9 percent
Toucouleur, 9 percent Diola, and 9 percent are Mandingo. The remaining 3 percent are
composed of Europeans, Lebanese, and other ethnic groups. The major languages spoken
in the country are French, Wolof, Fulde, Oyola, Mandinka, Sarakole, and Serer. The
majority of Senegal’s people are Muslim (92 percent), while 6 percent practice traditional
indigenous religions and 2 percent are Christian. Dakar, the nation’s capital, is also its
largest city, with a population of 1,730,000.
On April 4, 1960, Senegal gained its independence from France. French influence,
however, has continued to prevail throughout the country. The Senegalese educational
system, for example, has retained a French character, while France maintains a military
force in the country and continues to invest in Senegal’s economy. Since the 1988
election of President Abdou Diouf, Senegal has fortified its system of a multiparty
government. Diouf’s task has not been easy, however, as the nation has suffered from a
weak economy, regional separatism, disputes with neighboring countries, and sectarian
pressures.
Senegal’s natural resources include fish, phosphates, and iron ore, while agricultural
production revolves around millet, sorghum, manioc (cassava), rice, cotton, and
groundnuts. Principle industries and sources of revenue are fishing, food processing, and
light manufacturing. Dakar, Senegal’s capital and once the capital of French West Africa,
has long been a center for West Africa’s cultural affairs. Negritude, a Francophonic
African tradition, was founded by Senegalese writers; most notably Senegal’s first
president, poet, and statesman, Leopold Senghor, was one of the leading exponents of
negritude, a political and artistic assertion of African identity primarily associated with
Francophone African Caribbean writers and leaders. The ancient traditions of the griots,
historian bards found throughout Senegal, as well as Mali and Guinea, continue to inspire
contemporary musicians and singers. Youssou N’Dour and Baaba Maal are among the
many musicians who have gained international reputations.
In recent years, increasing numbers of African Americans have traveled back to West
Africa in search of their heritage. Goree Island, one of the major shipment points during
the centuries of slavery, is a major historical site, along with the slave forts of Ghana.
JENNIFER JOYCE
SENUFO
See Speaking and Nonspeaking Power Objects of the Senufo; Tourism and Tourist
Arts
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SEYCHELLES
Located off the east coast of Africa, the Republic of the Seychelles is Africa’s smallest
country in terms of both size and population. The 115 subtropical islands of Seychelles
consist of a number of scattered archipelagos that collectively are home to approximately
80,000 people. The country’s capital is the city of Victoria, which has a population of
25,000. The country is predominantly composed of the Seychellois, who are a mix of
Asians, Africans, and French. English, French, and Creole are the most widely spoken
languages. Ninety-eight percent of the population is Christian, while the remaining 2
percent is made up of various other religious groups.
In 1771 the French formed a settlement in Seychelles and created spice plantations. It
was the British, however, who officially colonized the country, in 1814. On June 29,
1976, Seychelles finally gained its independence and formed its own republic. In 1993
the one party government ended its fifteen year rein, and a multiparty system was
established.
Since gaining its independence, Seychelles has benefited from a solid economy and
positive social progress. The economy received a substantial lift in 1971 with the opening
of an international airport, which led to a great rise in tourism, the country’s major source
of foreign revenue. In addition to its tourism industry, Seychelles has gained revenue
from its shrimp, cinnamon, and copra (coconut meat) exports, as well as its vanilla
processing and coconut oil industries. Seychelles has also become a world leader in
wildlife preservation and environmental conservation. The islands also take pride in their
adult literacy rate of 84 percent.
JENNIFER JOYCE
SHENG: EAST AFRICAN URBAN FOLK
SPEECH
Sheng is the dynamic, protean combination of Swahili and English, but it also borrows
from Kenyan ethnic languages such as Kikuyu, Luo, and Luhya, from the Indian
languages of Hindi and Gujarati, from foreign films, from the news, and from the
languages of Kenya’s many tourists. It is primarily localized in Nairobi, Kenya’s capital,
but it has also moved to other large urban areas, such as Nakuru. Sheng has become a
symbol of urbanity and is used as a marker for nonethnic identity—the use of Sheng
distinguishes parking boys (street urchins), soccer players, market sellers, and many other
societal groups. Toward the end of the twentieth century, a new form of Sheng, called
Engsh, developed. It contains more English words, and is more heavily influenced by
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English grammar and sentence construction. As English is a marker of education, Sheng
and Engsh have become signifiers of class distinctions as well.
Sheng contains structural elements of slang, and it reflects the processes of
pidginization and creolization, as well as intense code-switching, word borrowing, and
meaning shifts. Sheng speakers most commonly embed English words that have
undergone a meaning shift through the adjustment to Swahili grammar and sentence
structure. For example, a word such as imedeadisha contains the English word dead, here
meaning “to break,” within the standard Swahili grammar of constructing a causative
verb. The following exchange provides numerous other examples:
Mike: Aa maze John ninje maze hukinishow ati ulikuwa unaishio movie?
Nilikuchekicheki hulu na huku lekini sikujua ulikrosigi weikya.
John: Wee la Mike usiworry sikuwe ne chope lekani nilione man mwingini we kwengu
nikomkolic man hate akocough kasomething.
Translation:
Mike: Aw man John how is it man you didn’t tell me that you were to be at the movie? I
looked for you here and there but I didn’t know where you were.
John: Oh, no Mike don’t worry, I didn’t have any money but saw another friend from my
place I hit him up until he coughed up something.
Close examination of the construction of some of the above words shows that the
sophistication and density of language processing work is quite high. Even a common
and often-used word such as Mzee (an honorific term used when referring to elders) can
change to Maze without mixing with English, but its traditional connotations are inverted,
as it is used in referring to a youth. Hukinishow is an English verb embedded in a Swahili
verb construction. In Swahili, personal pronouns, verb tense, and direct-object
identification are represented in verbs as prefixes and infixes. Hu is the negative personal
pronoun (“you did not”), -li is the past tense marker, and -ni is the first person prefix.
Show is the English verb show, but in this usage the meaning of show has been shifted to
tell. Nilikuchekicheki also contains an English verb within standard Swahili verb usage.
The verb in this case is check, which has been shifted in meaning to “looking for you,” or
“checking out for you.” The English word check is Swahilized by adding an “i” at the
end. Akacough means to “cough up” some money. The -a is the third-person prefix, and
the -ka is the connective tense. In kasomething, however, -ka appears to be present for
alliteration, not as the connective tense.
References
Achuhi, Roy. 1985. Using ‘am red, its Sheng! The Standard August 30:17.
Akungu, John. 1988. Sheng: the Language That Keeps Changing for Survival. Kenya Times
September 9:23.
Icheru, Catherine, and Roy Gachuhi. 1984. Sheng: New Urban Language Baffles Parents. Daily
Nation March 14:11.
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Aitin, Davide, and Carol Eastman. 1989. Language Conflict: Transactions and Games in Kenya.
Cultural Anthropology 4, no. 1:51–72.
Ioga, Jacko, and Dan Fee, eds. 1993. Sheng Dictionary. 2d ed. Nairobi: Ginseng.
Ikangi, Katama. 1985. Sheg-flag of a “Peoples’ Culture.” The Standard August 30:17.
Utahi, Wahome. 1990. Its the Age of Sheng and I Just Dig the Talk. Sunday Nation September
30:13–14.
Spyropoulos, Mary. 1987. Sheng: Some Preliminary Investigations Into a Recently Emerged
Nairobi Street Language. Journal of the Anthropological Society of Oxford 18:125–136.
Sure, Kembo. 1990. The Coming of Sheng. English Today 32, no. 8: 26–28.
DAVID A.SAMPER
See also Linguistics and African Verbal Arts; Popular Culture; Urban Folklore
SHONA
See Southern Africa; Tourism and Tourist Arts
SIERRA LEONE (REPUBLIC OF
SIERRA LEONE)
Located on the coast of West Africa and neighbored by Guinea and Liberia, the Republic
of Sierra Leone is a tropical country with a population of 4,870,000. Freetown, the
country’s capital, is also its largest city, with 469,000 inhabitants. Thirty-one percent of
Sierra Leone’s population is Temne, 34 percent is Mende, 5 percent is Krio, and 35
percent is made up of various other groups. English, Krio (Creole), Temne, Mende, Vai,
Kru, Fulde, and Mandinka are the most widely spoken languages. Over half of the
population still practices traditional religions (60%), while 30 percent are Muslim and 10
percent are Christian.
In 1787 the settlement of Freetown was initiated by freed black slaves from England,
Jamaica, and Nova Scotia. A British Protectorate was established in 1896. It was not until
April 27, 1961, however, that British rule ended, giving Sierra Leone its independence. In
1978 a new constitution made Sierra Leone a one-party state. Since the overthrow of the
long-governing All People’s Congress in April 1992, Sierra Leone has suffered from
severe political instability and civil war. The 1996 elections were followed by a coup the
next year. In response, West African nations sent a peace-keeping force, led by Nigeria;
nevertheless, the brutal civil war started again. The ongoing war has worsened the state of
human rights in the country and created hundreds of thousands of refugees, both within
the country and in surrounding nations. As was the case in Angola, “blood diamonds”
(illegally mined and sold diamonds) have financed the competing rebel groups.
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Although the country was rich in natural resources at independence, the smuggling
and depletion of resources, particularly gold and diamonds, has cost the country much in
potential revenue. The country produces coffee and cocoa, but international prices for
these have not been stable. Such economic conditions have resulted in Sierra Leone’s
present status as one of the world’s poorest countries. In the mid-1990s, Sierra Leone had
the highest infant mortality rate and lowest life expectancy in Africa.
In 1814, Fourah Bay College was founded in Sierra Leone as a Christian school. It
became a renowned educational institution for all of West Africa, and before 1918 it
provided the only higher education in the region. During colonial times, the college
produced many important West African leaders. The indiginous peoples of Sierra Leone
such as the Mende, Limba, and Temne, have extensive visual and verbal-art traditions.
JENNIFER JOYCE
SILENCE IN EXPRESSIVE BEHAVIOR
The numerous instances of cultural silences in African societies cluster in two basic,
although not unrelated, areas. Ritual uses of silence seem to refer fundamentally to the
realm of deities, spirits, and ancestors. Although in full experience the spirit realm is not
really silent, it cannot be heard easily, and often necessitates intermediaries such as
diviners (Peek 2000). The other basic realm of signification is the representation of
wisdom and respect. For cultures throughout Africa, silence and the reticence of a
speaker is commonly understood to convey respect, sagacity, esoteric knowledge, and
serenity.
Silence can be the manifestation of social power, where control over others is
demonstrated by silencing them. Those in power can prevent others from speaking—they
can, in fact, cause silence. But these instances, except in clear cases of despots and
dictatorships, often overlap with situations of ritual, sacred uses of silence, or situations
where respect or wisdom is evidenced by the silence.
African religious beliefs and practice provide numerous instances for such
manifestations of silence. The Yoruba of Nigeria have proverbs about a deity who is so
powerful that it does not have to acknowledge humankind’s puny existence: Akii je nii
gb’orisa niyi (It is the silence of the deity that confers dignity on it). Periods of silence
often protect critical rites of birth and death, as well as initiations.
African masquerade traditions often include fearsome silent masks that do not speak
or make any sound, and in their silence reveal even more potency than they would if they
were loud. Sometimes masks may have no mouths depicted at all. In other instances,
masks which do “speak” seldom do so in normal voices, but rather use instrumental
means or voice disguisers to communicate. Others may use exclusively visual languages
of gesture and sign language to communicate. While the treatment of masqueraders’
voices may comment on the fearsomeness of spirit speech, a closed or absent mouth may
demonstrate the wisdom of silence. One who could speak instead chooses, wisely, to
remain silent.
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Among the Mende of Sierra Leone, a person’s silence is understood to demonstrate
composure and quality of judgment, a prominent quality of elders. Thus, just as the wise
person seldom opens his mouth, the chief is quietly aloof, and the proper woman is
discreetly silent, masks representing these figures are therefore depicted with small,
pursed mouths, as appropriate to their exalted status. Images of ideal, perfect silence
permeate the society, occurring in all possible contexts to continually remind people how
to behave as proper Mende women or men (Boone 1986).
Perhaps the epitome of the overlap of sacred and secular realms with regard to silence
occurs with divine kings. In many African societies, a defining feature of the king is that
he does not speak in public—one could not even see the king’s mouth move in the
ancient courts of Benin City, Nigeria. One interpretation of such instances of prohibited
speech stems from the acknowledged power of words, especially those related to taboo
topics and highly potent individuals. If to speak is to act—if words actualize ideas, then
to not speak is to prevent something unwanted from happening (Peek 1981). For
example, among the Yoruba, one never speaks the “real” name of smallpox out loud.
Another important reflection of the associations of silence and wisdom is the striking
presence of silent animals in a variety of contexts. In West Africa, spiders and tortoises
are portrayed both as trickster figures and as emblematic of wisdom. The “silent” spider,
known as Anansi among Akan speakers of Ghana, is considered the origin of tales. Many
divination systems employ silent animals as agents of oracular messages from the other
world, such as mice among the Baule, crabs in northern Cameroon, and the desert fox for
the Dogon of Mali.
The presence of silence is also a part of folktales and their performance. Indicative of
the importance of silence, the Kuranko of Sierra Leone actually employ an ideophone to
signify silence. The Shona in Zimbabwe also recognize that silence is not simply absence
or “nothing,” for they use a specific gesture to indicate silence’s presence in a narrative
(Klassen 1999). An extraordinarily poignant tale from the Yoruba of western Nigeria
brings forth the subtlety of thought on these matters, both in regards to divine kings and
to the concepts of silence:
The king invited the animals to a great feast, and offered a prize to the
best dancer. The animals danced energetically before him, each showing
off its own most striking qualities—the elephant its grave dignity, the
leopard its beautiful coat and sinuous agility, the gazelle its spectacular
leaps and so forth. When, at the end of the dance, they gathered around
the king to hear his judgment, to their surprise and displeasure he awarded
the prize to the tortoise. Answering their complaints, the king asked them
who had provided the feast, and who was giving the prize, to which they
could only reply “It is you, O King!” “And so it is that I awarded the prize
to the tortoise,” said the King, “for it is only I who can see the dance of
the tortoise: his dance is entirely inside him!” (Lienhardt, 1985, p. 143).
This is an exceptional testimony to the importance of the unstated, to the superior quality
of the inner state. This is not a singular testimony, however. In eastern Nigeria, for
example, the Igbo have an adage: “It’s not the sound you hear that I will dance to.”
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The natural world that cultural beings inhabit is one of sound. Noise is natural; it is
silence that must be created. Humans are genetically programmed to speak and to hear.
Normally, people cannot not speak; therefore, to choose silence is a significant act of
humanness. The cessation of sound, the stopping of speech, the choice of silence, this is
always noteworthy. This condition is generally understood to be one of respect and
wisdom among African, as well as traditional American and Asian cultures. As the
Bamana say: “If speech burned your mouth, silence will heal you.”
References
Alberts, Ethel M. 1972. Culture Patterning of Speech Behavior in Burundi. In Directions in
Sociolinguistics, ed. D.Hymes and J. Gumperz. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston.
Boone, Sylvia A. 1986. Radiance from the Waters: Ideals and Feminine Beauty in Mende Art. New
Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press.
Hunter, Linda. 1982. Silence Is Also Language: Hausa Attitudes about Speech and Language.
Anthropological Linguistics 24, no. 4: 389–409.
Klassen, Doreen. 1999. You Can’t Have Silence with Your Palms Up: Ideophones, Gesture, and
Iconicity in Zimbabwean Shona Women’s Ngano (Storysong) Performance. Ph.D. dissertation,
Indiana University.
Lienhardt, Godfrey. 1985. Self, public, private. Some African representations. In The Category of
the Person, edited by M. Carrithers, S.Lukes, and S.Collins. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge
University Press.
Peek, Philip M. 1981. The Power of Words in African Verbal Arts. Journal of American Folklore
94, no. 371:19–43.
——. 1994. The Sounds of Silence: Cross-World Communication and the Auditory Arts in African
Societies. American Ethnologist 21, no. 3:474–494.
——. 2000. Re-Sounding Silences. In Sound, ed. P.Kruth and H.Stobart. Cambridge, England:
Cambridge University Press.
Samarin, William J. 1965. Language of Silence. Practical Anthropology 12, no. 2:155–119.
Tannen, Deborah, and M. Saville-Troike, eds. 1985. Perspectives on Silence. Norwood, N.J.:
Ablex.
PHILIP M.PEEK
See also Animals in African Folklore; Divination; Gesture in African Oral
Narrative; Ideophones; Performance
SIYAR: NORTH AFRICAN EPICS
While the epic is absent from classical Arabic literature, the genre, although long ignored
by academia, plays an important role in popular culture throughout a vast area of
Northern Africa.
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A Narrative Genre: the Siyar
The genre is called siyar (biography). The term is used as a title of epic narratives: Sîrat
‘Antara, Sîrat Banî Hilâl, Sîrat al-Zîr Sâlim, Sîrat Sayfibn Dhî Yazan, and so on.
Interestingly enough, siyar, as derived from sarâ (to walk, or to behave) applies, in its
physical and moral senses, both to movement and behavior. Thus, the genre lends itself to
a biographical (or allegedly biographical) narrative about a distinguished figure of the
past. The narration follows the course of an entire life, or even of successive lives
through several generations within a family, extended sometimes to a whole people.
Perceived as biographical, a siyar represents, in the eyes of its most fervent devotees,
their true history. These are legendary biographies, in which history is reinterpreted for
the purposes of the genre.
Diffusion of the Siyar
These epic narratives have been spread through various modes of transmission, including
oral performances (with or without musical accompaniment), manuscript, and (at least
from the eighteenth century onwards) printed versions. Unlike the others, one siyar, the
story of the Banû Hilâl (the Sons of Hilal) is still a living oral tradition. In Upper Egypt,
the musician-poets
sing versions entirely in verse, using the local dialect and
skillfully combining memory and improvisation (Canova 1996). In a village of the Nile
Delta, a hundred hours, on average, are needed for one of the fourteen “poets” to sing this
epic to an audience (Reynolds 1995). In Tunisia, the Hilalian oral tradition, which is no
longer musical, survives in the form of poetry or, more frequently, prose interspersed
with rhymed prose (saj’) and poetry. In Algeria and Morocco, the siyar is broken into
small tales centered on two main sequences that deal with antagonistic relationships, one
between the favorite hero, Dhyâb, and heroine, Jâzya (usually before they get married),
and one between father and son, Ghânim and Dhyâb (Nacib 1994; Galley and IraqiSinaceur 1994). In the societies south of the Sahara (e.g., Darfour, Kordofan, Bornou,
Chad, Mali) several episodes of the siyar have been popular (MacMichael 1912; Carbou
1913; Patterson 1930; Connelly 1973).
Sîrat Banî Hilâl: Its Historical Substratum
The most popular cycle of the Hilalian tale is the third and last part of the whole siyar,
known as the March Westwards (tagh-rîba). Historically, the Banû Hilâl constitute the
second wave of Arab conquerors who spread westwards and settled in northern Africa in
the fifth century of the Hegira. They were originally a nomadic people who, in the
previous century, had arrived in Egypt in great numbers, fleeing the deserts of Arabia
because of drought. There, they were exhorted by the Fatimid ruler of Cairo to head for
Ifrîqiyya (present-day Tunisia). Strikingly enough, the various sociopolitical reasons for
the event are completely absent from the narrative. Stress is laid, instead, on their living
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830
conditions as the cause of their migration. They have suffered drought for years at a
stretch:
During seven entire years
Not a single lightning announcing the rain,
No cauldron placed on the tripod
Nor grain stirred on the fire.
A bushel had grown dearer,
It cost a three-year she-camel.
(transl. from Galley and Ayoub: 50–51)
Although the decision to migrate is vital, it is perceived first as an exile (taghrîba):
Where is the tribe of the famous name?
Their drinking troughs are dry,
They have exiled themselves, bringing their camps far
and wide,
(transl. from Galley and Ayoub 1994:48–49)
An Epic of the Desert
The key factor in the story of this march is the search for a land hospitable to men,
An underglass painting inspired by a
folk epic in which the hero Bu Zid
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triumphs over his enemy, Tunisia
(black & white photo of a color print
of a warrior).
Photo © Micheline Galley.
Glass painting from Tunis, Jazya, or al
Zazya.
Photo © Micheline Galley.
women, children, and herds. The goal to be reached at the end of all ordeals is Tunis, a
synonym for Paradise on Earth. The very name of Tunis conveys a dream of abundant
food, water, and greenery; everywhere the taghrîba is recounted, including in Darfour
and Kordofan; and among the Yesiye of Bornou and the Toundjour of Chad, the place
dreamed of by these nomadic herders is none other than “Tunis the Green” (Tûnis alkhadrâ’), “the Prosperous,” “the Blessed,” “the Well-Named.”
The journey is long and full of hardships, with inevitable confrontations with the
sedentary peoples they encounter. Sometimes the impressive tide of Hilalian riders is
described by a local (Zenâti) hunter:
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And behold!
Waves of horsemen, squadron after squadron,
Their burnooses flapping in the wind
Like birds with ruffled feathers.
And behold!
Waves of horsemen, squadron after squadron,
Deep in sockets,
Their black eyes sparkling like fragments of pottery.
And behold!
Waves of horsemen, squadron after squadron…
The first one leading a bridge of horsemen across the
ford,
The last one still distant amidst the dunes…
(Galley and Ayoub 1994:119–121)
Bloody battles ensue, which “turn the hair of little children white.” Yet, most versions of
the oral tradition end relatively happily, the Promised Land having finally been reached.
However, in some cases, especially in manuscript and published versions, the narrative
develops into real tragedy (Saada 1985): power struggles break out within the Hilalian
community, leading to the dispersion of a people and the death of its most prestigious
members.
The heroes die, but their memory lives in the hearts of men who recognize themselves
in these models of heroism, virility, and dignity. Those who sing or recite the siyar have
exalted these models for their audience, particularly at times when there is a need to
reinforce feelings of identity. During the Algerian War of Independence, the exploits of
the familiar heroes, brought back to life by means of oral performances, contributed to
the strengthening of Algerian national pride.
The Laws of the Desert
Beyond their individual prestige, the heroes of the Hilalian siyar embody a
communitarian ideal linked to the way of life of the desert people. This ideal conveys a
particular sense of honor that seems to determine all the individual behaviors and regulate
social life, serving, in essence, as a moral code.
What are the essential components of this code reflected by the siyar? First, family
solidarity or esprit de corps (‘as abiyya), which demands self-denial. The heroine Jâzya
must sacrifice herself by accepting to be given in marriage to a foreign prince: the very
survival of the group takes precedence over individual consideration. In this case,
exogamy (marriage outside the group) is practised: normally, endogamy is preferred (as
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the proverb says, “Knead your own clay”). The necessity of bearing male descendants
also involves the honor of men. The sons of Hilâl owe it to themselves to perpetuate their
lineage. Therefore, female barrenness is a calamity. Emir Rizq, still without a son after
seven years of marriage, says to his wife, Khadrâ’:
I married you an honourable woman to increase my
honor
It turns out you are barren, in you there are no
offspring…
Woe to him whose strength Fate has destroyed.
(Reynolds 1997:236)
Another basic virtue in which the Hilalians take pride is eloquence. They refer to
themselves as ahl
(people of allusion). The Banû Hilâl of pre-Islamic Arabia
are known to have attached great importance to the art of poetry, organizing verbal
contests in periods of truce, when feats of war gave way to rhetorical exploits. In the
siyar, the characters themselves seem to evince a taste for language using linguistic
subtleties, playing on word sounds and polysemy (multiple meanings).
Death entails a codified ceremony. The body is surrounded by ritual cares, ceremonial
laments are sung, and respect is paid to the deceased in keeping with his prestige, even if
he is a foreigner. Such is the case of Khwâja
, the valorous ally. At his death,
the expression of mourning takes the form of sacrificed animals and the destruction of
wealth. However, it may happen that the Hilalian Jâzya remains clearly indifferent to the
death of one of her people. She then justifies her behavior before the Council of Elders:
O Hilâl Bû Ali, three kinds of men deserve to be wept
and mourned for.
The first faces danger so that war be extinguished.
The second offers hospitality in years of drought and
famine when giving a sip of water to the thirsty one
requires great efforts.
The third is witty and eloquent, imposing his own
rights as well as the others’.
The rest, o Hilâl Bû Ali, are nothing more than the
dim glitter which a blind man can hardly perceive.
They deserve neither tears nor laments,
(transl. from Guiga 1968:28).
Such is the law of the desert, an absolute imperative that makes men great.
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References
Canova, Giovanni. 1996. The Epic Poet in Egyptian Tradition. Journal of Mediterranean Studies 6,
no. 1:7–14.
Carbou, Henri. 1913. Méthode pratique pour l'étude de l’arabe parlé au Ouadaï et à l’est du
Tchad. Paris.
Connelly, Bridget. 1973. The Structure of Four Banî Hilâl Tales. Journal of Arabic Literature
4:18–47.
Galley, Micheline and Ayoub, Abderrahman. 1983. Histoire des Bani Hilal et de ce qui leur advint
dans leur marche vers l’ouest. Classiques Africains 22. Paris: Belles Letters.
banî hilâl. Tunis.
Guiga, Abderrahman. 1968. Min
MacMichael, H.A. 1912. The Tribes of Northern and Central Kordofan. Cambridge, England:
Cambridge University Press.
Nacib, Youssef. 1994. Une geste en fragments. Paris: Publisud.
Patterson, J.R. 1930. Stories of Abu Zeid the Hilali in Shuwa Arabic. London.
Reynolds, Dwight. 1995. Heroic Poets, Poetic Heroes. Ithaca N.Y.: Cornell University Press.
Reynolds, Dwight. 1997. The Epic of the Banî Hilâl. In Oral Epics from Africa, eds. J.W.Johnson,
T.A.Hale and S.Belcher. Bloomington: Indiana University Press: 228–239.
Saada, Lucienne. 1985. La geste hilalienne. Paris: Gallinard.
MICHELINE GALLEY
See also Epics; Maghrib; Oral Performance and Literature
SOMALIA (SOMALI DEMOCRATIC
REPUBLIC)
Located on the coast of northeast Africa, Somalia is an arid country neighbored by
Djibouti, Ethiopia, and Kenya. The country’s nearly 11,530,000 people are
predominantly Somali. With a population of 900,000, Mogadishu is the nation’s capital
and largest city. The major languages spoken in Somalia are Somali, Arabic, Oromo,
Italian, and English. The majority of the nation’s people are Sunni Muslim (99%), while
the remaining 1 percent is composed of various other religious groups.
In 1884, Britain took over northern Somaliland; Italy gained control of southern
Somaliland a few years later. In 1936, Italy merged this territory with Eritrea and
Ethiopia to create Italian East Africa, which it lost in World War II. After seventy-five
years of colonial rule by Britain and Italy, Somalia gained its independence on July 1,
1960. Unfortunately, in the years since its independence Somalia has been plagued by
war, famine, and economic and social turmoil. Between 1991 and 1992, hundreds of
thousands Somalis starved to death before the United Nations intervened and
administered relief supplies. Somalia has had no functioning government or formal
economy since Mohammed Siad Barre, the nation’s dictator for over twenty years, was
overthrown in 1991. As of 2003, the country was still divided by armed contingents,
which are organized by clan membership, and several attempts at reunification had failed.
Somalia is an arid country, and famine has therefore been a
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problem for its people for centuries. Because agricultural conditions are poor, 25
percent of the nation’s people now live in cities. Unfortunately, there are more people
than jobs and unemployment in the country has become increasingly problematic.
Despite such poor economic conditions, Somali industries include sugar refining, tuna
and beef canning, textiles, iron-rod plants, and petroleum refining. The country’s natural
resources are uranium, timber, and fish, while agriculture revolves around livestock,
bananas, sugarcane, cotton, and cereals.
Despite Somalia’s tumultuous economic and political history, the nation is renowned
for its poets. Scholars believe that the strength of the nation’s poetry is a reflection of the
strong oral traditions of Somali nomads, and poetry has played a vital role in the nation’s
social and political arenas.
JENNIFER JOYCE
SONGHAY
See Spirit Possession
SONGS FOR CEREMONIES
The song is a widespread mode of expression in African societies. Although songs are
usually accompanied by music and dance when they are performed, numerous distinct
types of songs can be distinguished. Some songs are performed purely for pleasure, and
singers are in no way restricted by time or place. Examples of these types are cradle
melodies, children’s nursery rhymes set to music, and love songs, which are often
interpreted in many societies by young girls during the drought season. There are songs
associated with specific activities, such as hunting, farming, blacksmithing, warfare, and
so on. In addition, there are ceremonial songs produced solely, at least in principle, for a
particular celebration, of which the song is but one element of the whole ritual. It is this
last type of song that is the subject of this discussion.
Under the rubric of “ceremony,” it is helpful to distinguish the various types with
which certain songs are associated. First, there are ceremonies dependent on seasonal
events marked by the local calendar, such as ceremonies to mark the new year, the new
moon, the arrival of the rainy season, and the anniversary of a special celestial event.
There are also ceremonies linked to the different religious calendars, such as the end of
Ramadan or the feast of the lamb in Muslim societies. Songs are also associated with
masquerades and the rites associated with honoring ancestors.
Songs are also heard during ceremonies designed to celebrate the momentous stages or
moments of human life, or the rites of passage marked by each society. These include
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rituals of birth, of naming, of circumcision or excision, of marriage, and of funerals.
Among the Sanan of Burkina Faso, this song might be heard at funerals:
If I don’t accompany you, mother,
you won’t arrive under the tree of death.
If I, Kuma, speaker of words, don’t accompany you,
mother,
you’ll never arrive under the tree of death.
(Nieba and Platiel, 1980)
On the whole, a majority of a society’s repertory of ceremonial songs are those composed
for these various ceremonies. In addition, there are songs accompanying the various
stages of the initiation ceremonies of different initiatory societies, such as the songs of
the Komo and of the Kore of Bamana initiatory societies. One also finds a repertory of
religious songs, such as those in Islam that celebrate the completion of Quranic school or
the return from the obligatory pilgrimage to Mecca.
Ceremonies tied to certain aspects of social life are marked by song as well. An
important event in any community is the crowning of a chief or the arrival of a visiting
government official. The following song is heard at the enthronement of a Bambana
chief:
Here’s the trunk,
Here’s the great trunk,
Here’s the white trunk,
A chief is enthroned…
Guardian spirits of the town respect him!
Dwarfs of the town fear him!
Bad sicknesses are appeased by his reign!
(Bungener and Dieterlon)
Frequently, at such occasions, praise songs are performed. These are especially valued in
the cultures of southern Africa (e.g., Xhosa and Zulu). Certain types of songs peculiar to
specific activities may also fall into this category of ceremonial songs. Hunting songs, for
example, can be produced for a specific hunting-related activity—a song may accompany
the admission of one of the members of a society of hunters to a superior grade of that
society. Similarly, some agricultural songs may be performed during the sowing or
harvest seasons. As noted earlier, even these songs are accompanied by music and dance.
The themes of ceremonial songs are obviously closely connected to cultural functions.
Songs that are sung at feasts related to celestial events or at religious ceremonies are
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usually characterized by a more philosophical tone. Either they are addressed to deities or
they evoke, through maxims or aphorisms, the laws of nature. Fulani weavers offer this
prayer:
I beg authorization from God where the sun rises.
I beg authorization from God where the sun sets.
At the beginning is God, at the end is God.
Who doesn’t begin in your name, will finish in your
name.
All things except God are a lie.
(Dieterlen 1965)
Ceremonial songs celebrating life’s rites of passage, from birth to death, usually focus on
conspiring against bad luck, administering benediction, giving advice about what
behavior to adopt in a new stage of life. For example, songs of marriage will remind the
bride of her new duties, both as a housewife and as a mate. By the same token, songs
associated with circumcision call on the candidates to muster up courage before the knife.
From the Bamana of Mali we have the following:
Go speak to my father and to my mother,
they aren’t ashamed,
Oh! He! to be ashamed.
At the assembly place, the child is courageous!
He, he, he! What joy!
(Luneau, 1980)
Even though the themes of songs may differ from one type to the next, the stylistic
properties of ceremonial songs are relatively homogeneous, both for the genre as a whole
and for the different societies of the African continent. Most often, the song’s
infrastructure rests upon short aphorisms, many of which come from the repertory of
proverbs. These are usually repeated several times, according to a more or less elaborate
ritual, and most often punctuated by the alternation of a solo (or duo) and a chorus in a
call-and-response fashion. The artistic element in these songs emanates from the subtle
counterpoint of repeated lines, both textual and musical.
What distinguishes the specific genre of the ceremonial song depends on the mode of
expression (i.e., the melody and instrumental accompaniment). It does often happen, for
example, that the same wording in a song may be used for a marriage or mask song or for
a funeral chant. Yet, upon hearing the interpretation, those listening will be able to tell
exactly which occasion is targeted. Each type of ritual song will be defined by a strict set
of parameters reflecting what is authorized to be composed (and sung), as well as to be
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consumed (heard) by the public. For this same reason, there are frequently forbidden
aspects, in particular with respect to initiatory songs. Some can be sung only by the head
of the family, some by women, and some by the initiators of the neophytes.
Of all the genres, except those that are the prerogative of specialists, these are
certainly the ones which are the most closely regulated. As they are often linked to sacred
rites, they are less susceptible to variation than the others. In effect, religious songs are
frequently sung exactly the same, word for word, from one performance to the next. On
the other hand, certain types of ceremonial songs allow for the creativity of the
interpreter, whose artistic contribution consists of introducing variants of the canonical
models. This is often the case for songs of praise, which are sung at many different
ceremonies.
Thus, the repertory of ceremonial songs represents an extremely important part of the
storehouse of verbal folklore of many African societies, one that must not be neglected.
Furthermore, these songs are often a source of real inspiration for the ritual theater and
for modern popular songs in Africa.
References
Bungener, Youssouf Cisse, and Germaine Dieterlen. Priere pour l’intronisation d’un chef
bambara.
Dieterlen, Germaine, ed. 1965. Textes sacres d’Afrique Noire. Paris: Gallimard.
Luneau, R. 1980. Chants d’excision bambara. In Recueil de litterature manding. Paris: ACCT.
Nieba, A. and S. Platiel. 1980. Chants de funerailles Sanan. In Recueil de litterature manding.
Paris: ACCT.
Rodegem, F. 1973. Anthologie Rundi. Classiques Africains Paris: Belles Lettres.
JEAN DERIVE
See also Birth and Death Rituals among the Gikuyu; Children’s Folklore; Music
SONGS OF THE DYULA
The Dyula occupy a savanna area covering northern Cote d’Ivoire and southern Burkina
Faso. This society is part of the Manding ethnic grouping, a significant cultural complex
in West Africa. Their gradual Islamization, occurring between the seventeenth and
nineteenth centuries, has had important repercussions on their traditions.
Dyula folklore is essentially comprised of words, music, and dance. Whereas certain
genres of their oral repertory can be performed without dance or music, it is quite rare for
the dances to be produced without sung accompaniment. Furthermore, singing is
conceptually linked to dance, as the Dyula term donkili illustrates with its etymological
connotation of “a call to dance.” As far as music is concerned, it is inconceivable to
perform it without recourse to words or dance.
Twenty instruments are used by the Dyula. Percussion instruments include drums
(baa, butu, dagadundun, domisi, dundunba, jembe, karanamentu, korokoto, kotodundun,
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longan, and perende), metal gongs (daworo, kagayan, and lato), and balafons. Their wind
instruments are horns (gbeni and gbofe) and whistles (filen and sinbon). They also use
cattle-bells, bracelet bells (gbanyan), and rattles (yanbara).
The specific combinations of these various instruments constitute the proper musical
accompaniment for each type of song and dance. In effect, it is the great variety of songs
that creates the originality characteristic of Dyula folk music. The occasions for their
performance include calendar holidays, celebrations of each Dyula community’s
historical events, occasions in the Islamic calendar (e.g., Ramadan, Tabaski), or events in
the preIslamic calendar.
The dances that are common among the Dyula of Kong use masks (Do donkili). A
song which accompanies the Safo mask goes:
He, sorcerers, don’t stop here!
Safo comes, Safo comes to take you,
today is the day!
The Sorcerer was snared today, it’s Safo who knew it!
The Sorcerer wasn’t snared today, it’s Safo who knew
it!
Korodugu’s Safo is coming out today,
sorcerers, know it quickly!
Korodugu’s child is coming out today,
children, know it quickly!
Another mask song is for Domuso, a female mask that aids women’s fertility, especially
those previously childless. In this song, women’s uteruses are likened to a cooking pot
that has been dried up by the fire, but beno, the power of the Domuso mask (which is rich
with gold and silver), will bring children, the ultimate wealth:
Beno, owner of gold, come, he doesn’t inspire disgust.
Beno, owner of silver, come, he doesn’t inspire disgust.
The cooking pot of some women is dried by the fire
They all stay to look at Beno for a bargain.
There are also ceremonies to mark the important ritual moments of human life, such as
baptism, circumcision, marriage, and return from pilgrimage. A favorite wedding song
reflects the negative feelings by women about marriage (the “little bone” it refers to is the
husband’s penis). Traditionally, Thursday night is the night of first sexual intercourse for
the couple, and because women (in this case Majuman) usually are married against their
will, the event is characterized as a “battle”:
There’s the little bone, there’s the little bone!
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I don’t give it to anyone.
If you don’t see Majuman,
it’s she who’s in the Thursday night battle!
Songs and music are associated with particular activities linked to farming and hunting.
One song demonstrates the competition farmers wage in preparing their fields. This song
challenges Vali to work harder:
He, Vali, you who advances quickly, come back, settle,
I proclaim your name!
Make your mounds quickly and stop!
He, Vali, I proclaim your name!
This next song honors great hunters of the past, such as Nyapon:
Ohe, bush dog
Nyapon who kills the animal at your place,
hunter who kills meat at your place!
I ask you to let me proclaim men’s names,
of men who are in the bush,
of hunters who are in the heart of the bush.
Still other songs can sometimes be performed on an individual basis to celebrate a
personal event, or simply to provide amusement and entertainment, as in the case of
bondolon donkili, the little love songs sung by young girls in moonlight:
Certainly render an account that is my beloved’s,
he who’s learning in college,
the author of the letter which pleases me so is at
college.
Certainly render an account that is my beloved’s,
and myself I see that it’s my beloved’s.
My beloved is a good speaker,
he who makes a beautiful speech is my beloved.
The last example is of children’s nursery rhyme songs (Tolon donkili):
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The little partridge, dyendyen oh!
Dyendyen!
There’s a little partridge,
dyendyen!
It isn’t snared by the thread,
dyendyen!
It will however be snared by the thread,
dyendyen!
The partridge isn’t being watched over.
the partridge flies away—frou, frou!
A specific Dyula name is assigned to each of these different songs. Most often the name
is a combination of the word donkili (song) and the term for the ceremony, mask, activity,
or dance with which it is associated: examples include densagali donkili (baptismal
song), safo do donkili (song of the Safo mask), donso donkili (song of hunters), and
kurubi donkili (song of the Kurubi dance). This system used for naming allows the
distinction of forty individual types of songs, which can be grouped into several generic
categories. For example, marriage songs (konyon donkili) can be further divided into ten
types; the same goes for songs for dance (don donkili).
Even though the majority of songs are closely linked to dances, some songs can be
performed without musical accompaniment, such as the hunting songs and the bondolon
(love songs). Strict rules of etiquette govern both the performers and audience of these
songs, especially with respect to the criteria of gender, age, or social class—such as a
nobleman (horon) or a captive (woloso). Certain songs can also be restricted to certain
community members, such as the Kong mask songs, which women as well as the
uninitiated are forbidden to hear.
Although the majority of the Dyula oral repertory is to be sung, there are more
classical oral genres whose performance is spoken rather than sung. Nonetheless, there
are certain tales (ntalen) that do contain parts to be sung. They may be recited by either
gender, but some distinctions are made for more strictly masculine or feminine
repertories. The Dyula oral repertory often contains appended riddles and enigmas
(ntalenkorobo), which in principle can only be recited at night and are differentiated from
the etiological narratives and myths (ngalen kuma), which may be told during the day as
well as at night.
The Dyula also possess a large repertory of proverbs (lamara), which the eldest
members are at liberty to recite on various occasions, and which also show up frequently
in the songs and in the folktales. When they are lacking professional artists to perform the
epic narratives, to which they sometimes listen in the company of their Maninka and
Bambana cousins, they love to hear the telling of their own glorious family histories (ko
koro), which can only be narrated by the head of the family.
The Dyula have been meticulous in circulating their oral repertory within their society
through the proper channels of circumstance and spokesperson (by whom the institutional
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message can be spoken and transmitted) and this has rendered their verbal folklore a most
effective tool of social regulation.
References
Derive, Jean. 1987a. Parole et pouvoir chez les Dioula de Kong. In Journal des Africanistes 57:19–
30.
——. 1987b. Le fonctionnement sociologique de la litterature orale: l’exemple des Dioula de
Kong. Paris: Institut d’Ethnologie.
——. 1989. Le jeune menteur et le vieux sage. In Graines de paroles. Paris: CNRS.
——. 1990. La chanson dans une societe de tradition orale. In Contemporary French Civilization
15:191–202.
——. 1992. The Function of Oral Art in the Regulation of Social Power in Dyula Society. In
Power, Marginality, and Oral Literature, ed. G.Furniss and E.Gunner. Cambridge, England:
Cambridge University Press.
Derive, Marie-Jose, Jean Derive, and Balemory Barro. 1980. Jula ntalen. Contes dioula. Abidjan:
CEDA.
Nebie, Marc. 1984. Et si on disait un conte? (Jula, Haute Volta). Cahiers de Litterature Orale
16:35–38.
JEAN DERIVE
See also Birth and Death Rituals among the Gikuyu; Gender Representation in
African Folklore; Initiation; Masks and Masquerades
SONGYE
See Visual Arts
SOUTH AFRICA (REPUBLIC OF
SOUTH AFRICA)
South Africa, located at the southernmost tip of Africa and neighbored by Namibia,
Botswana, Zimbabwe, Mozambique, Swaziland, and the Atlantic and Indian Oceans, is a
country of over 46 million people. Its climate ranges from temperate to arid. Pretoria, a
city of one million people, is the nation’s capital. Three-quarters of South Africa’s
population is black, 14 percent is white, 9 percent is colored, and 2 percent is Indian. The
major languages spoken are Afrikaans, English, Ndebele, Pedi, Sotho, Swati, Tsonga,
Tswana, Venda, Xhosa, and Zulu. Eighty-one percent of the nation is Christian, while the
remaining 19 percent are either Hindu or Muslim.
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South Africa has suffered a long and tumultuous history of institutionalized racism
and white supremacy, which began with the first Dutch settlement at Cape Town in 1652.
The Dutch Cape Colony depended on the slavery of nonwhites for its domestic economy.
While indigenous populations resisted their enslavement during the eighteenth and
nineteenth centuries, the white settlers eventually conquered their land and robbed them
of their freedom. To the dismay of the Dutch, the British gained possession of the Cape
Colony in 1815. Between 1899 and 1902, the Boer War erupted between the British and
the Afrikaners (white Dutch, or Boers), each of whom were vying for control of the
colony. On May 31, 1910, the Afrikaners and the British Empire came to an agreement
that granted rule to the Union of South Africa’s white minority.
South Africa’s ensuing years of white supremacy culminated in the implementation of
apartheid, or “separatehood,” in 1948 by the nation’s National Party. Under apartheid,
preexisting patterns of racism and inequality between the whites and non-whites were
enforced and legalized in a vast body of laws and legislation. In the face of the growing
international protest during the 1980s, the dismantling of apartheid began in 1989, and
Nelson Mandela was released from prison in 1990. In April of 1994, the nation held its
first nonracial elections. This election resulted in the overwhelming victory of the African
National Congress (ANC), which cooperated with its past rivals, the National Party and
the Inkatha Freedom Party, in forming the Government of National Unity (GNU). Nelson
Mandela, the nation’s first black president, served as head of the GNU.
South Africa is rich in natural resources such as gold, diamonds, mineral ores,
uranium, and fish. Based in the fertile farmlands, the nation’s agricultural sector produces
corn, wool, sugarcane, wheat, tobacco, citrus fruits, and dairy products. South Africa’s
principle industries and sources of revenue are mining, automobile assembly,
metalworking, textiles, iron and steel, and fishing. South African wines have become
world famous. Tourism is another major industry, with South Africa the twenty-fifth
most popular tourist destination in the world in 1998.
Despite apartheid’s end, the legacy of three and a half centuries of inequality have not
been erased, and South Africa remains a deeply divided nation. Whites still control much
of the nation’s industry and have comfortable lives, while nonwhites often suffer from
economic hardship. The end of apartheid has, however, ended international cultural and
sporting boycotts against the nation, and South Africa’s artists and athletes have become
increasingly prominent.
Contemporary South African artists from all ethnic groups have rejoined the world art
scene. Traditional verbal artists, especially the famous praise poets of the Xhosa and
Shona, continue to create and adapt their work. Women’s literacy, at 82 percent, is the
highest in Africa.
HIV/AIDS is South Africa’s greatest challenge as it enters the twenty-first century.
Not only does South Africa have the highest rates of infection and death in all of Africa,
but response to the epidemic is hampered by debate over which strategies to follow. In
1999, 250,000 died of AIDS in South Africa and in 2000, 40% of those 15–49 years old
died from AIDS. With an estimated 4.7 million suffering from HIV and AIDS in 2003,
South Africa has the highest number of infected individuals in the world.
JENNIFER JOYCE
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SOUTH AFRICA, ORAL TRADITIONS
The African oral tradition distills the essences of human experiences, shaping them into
memorable, readily retrievable images of broad applicability, with an extraordinary
potential for eliciting emotional responses. These images are removed from their
historical contexts so that performers may recontextualize them in artistic forms. The oral
arts, containing this sensory residue of past cultural life and the wisdom so engendered,
constitute a medium for organizing, examining, and interpreting an audience’s
experiences of the images of the present.
The major oral genres—riddle and lyric poem, proverb, tale, heroic poetry, and epic—
are characterized by a metaphorical process, the product of pattern and image; and, being
prescriptive rather than descriptive, they resolve themselves into models for human and
cultural behavior, falling into a cyclical, not linear, mode. History, a part of heroic poetry
and epic, appears in fragmentary form.
The oral categories are interwoven; a common internal structure characterizes them,
each with a rhythmical ordering of image and motif, which controls the ties between the
art tradition and the real world. It is by means of this common structure, and it is because
of the metaphor or its potential (the organizing factor in each of the genres), that vital
links are established with the visual arts, as well as with dance, mime, and music. Each of
the forms in some way nourishes the other.
Riddles
The riddle is a figurative comparative form. A problem is fathomed, but perhaps more
important, the attributes of each side of the comparison are transferred to the other.
Because the riddle involves paradox as well as imagery, it exercises both the intellect and
the imagination of the audience; in its attempts to find the answer, it becomes a part of
the metaphorical transformation. The delight in discovery characterizes the riddle,
prepares members of an audience for the more complex coupling that occurs in the tale
and epic, and reflects the relations among images in lyric poetry. The riddle operates in
two modes, much as lyric and tale do; one is literal, the other figurative, with a tension
and an interaction between them. The literal level of interpretation interacts vigorously
and creatively with the figurative; that is the full experience of the riddle. It is not simply
a solution that is wanted; it is the prismatic experience of figurative imagery placed
against the literal; the play is between fantasy and reality, between the figurative and the
literal. In the riddle, the audience’s imagination, made active during performance, is also
made visible.
The riddle establishes a model for all oral art. The relationship between images has at
least the potential for metaphor and complexity. In the African lyric, it is possible to see a
set of riddles operating as the separate images in the poem relate to one another
metaphorically. The combination of figurative images creates the final experience of the
lyric poem. It is often more complex than the riddle because it embraces a number of
riddling connections, and a single riddle relationship may become more complex when it
is introduced into the context of yet another, and so on, as the riddling images of the
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poem interact. The poet supplies a series of images that repeat aspects of a basic theme or
examine an emotion with intensity. Each metaphorical set, in itself a riddle, acts as a kind
of clue, bringing the audience closer to an understanding of the poet’s intent. The lyric
poet repeats the image, establishes the boundaries of the varieties of imagery that may be
introduced into the poem, and creates the rhythm; these ensure that the different sets of
images will be experienced by the audience in a similar way.
Myth
Myth is not a theology or body of dogma or a worldview; it is not so much a story as that
which moves the story, and we find it in incipient form in the riddle, lyric, and proverb.
In the latter, metaphor is achieved when a somewhat hackneyed expression is brought
into contact with reality. The proverb is a metaphorical relationship, tying an old saying
to a situation with which it may or may not have a clearly perceived relationship, but that,
with thought, reveals a reference for that real life experience. The proverb in this respect
behaves similarly to the way image operates in lyric poetry, in which diverse images are
brought into contact with one another. The audience knows what it must do, and it works
toward an understanding of the relationship; the proverb form, and the audience’s
experiences with it, force a movement toward reason. Proverbs are tired clichés only
when viewed in isolation, but when they are placed into realistic con texts, they become
vital, even dynamic. What gives them freshness is the experience to which they are
giving form. In the lyric, linkages must be understood within the poem before they can be
comprehended in a realistic context. In the proverb, the only way for the metaphor to be
realized is by means of the instant connection between the art form and reality. The
proverb is similar to the riddle in the sense that metaphor is intended, as the ancient truth
of the culture touches contemporary experience. More, perhaps, than the riddle, the
proverb establishes ties with the culture’s sages; ancient wisdom is carried by the
proverbial expression that, through constant use, becomes easily remembered, and
hackneyed, until given new life. The proverb gives cultural and artistic form to present
action. The riddle does much the same thing when problem and solution are harmonized.
Patterning of Images
The single most important characteristic of African oral performances is the patterning of
images. In the simple tale, patterns are built on the actions of a single character, as
fantasy and reality are linked in a linear movement from conflict to resolution; at the
same time, the metaphorical structure, not unlike that which governs the movement in
lyric poetry, controls the patterning, providing the possibilities for complexity, for
meaning, and for the revelation of the mimetic relationship. That lyrical core ensures that
the potential for expansion and development are not lost. Out of a triangular relationship
that includes a central character, a helper, and a villain, the basic movement is developed.
The tale at this stage will not necessarily be metaphorical; it may simply bring like image
sets into contact with one another for no purpose other than to move the tale effectively to
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its resolution. But the possibilities for metaphor are a part of the form because of the
existence of patterning.
Links among Tales
Many tales have a built-in capacity for linkage to other tales; a number of them, when
placed in a narrative frame, produces a complex story. When two tales or more are thus
joined and the parts harmonized by the metaphorical process, an epic matrix, if not an
epic, is created. It is at this stage that organizing activities similar to those found in the
proverb assume importance. In the shorter tales, a process like that of the riddle and poem
is sufficient, but, as organization and theme become more involved, the metaphorical
movement found in the proverb becomes crucial because it supplies the structure
necessary to carry a complex theme. The proverb-type activity establishes the ties
between past and present; the type found in the riddle and lyric can then continue to
supply the internal ordering of the larger forms. When the number of tales develops to a
complexity no longer supportable by the simple structure of the story, and when that set
of tales is brought into a context that includes history and the hero, epic is the result.
In heroic poetry, or panegyric, the relationship among images seems also obscure at
times. The images are indeed connected; a discourse is initiated by the poet, and the
panegyric assumes lyrical form. As in the lyric poems, the rhythm of the poetic
performance, its single subject, the thematically designed boundaries, bind the diverse
images. Of all African art forms, heroic poetry is the closest to history in its choice of
images. It frequently concentrates on historical figures. Panegyric poetry examines heroic
aspects of humans—positively, in the rush of pleasure in recounting the affairs in the
lives of authentic culture heroes; negatively, in the comparison of the flawed
contemporary leader with the great heroes of the past. While the raw material of this
poetry is, by and large, realistic, it is history made discontinuous, then placed in novel
frames. Within this new context, the hero is described, then judged. It is in the
measurement of the poem’s subject against the ideals of the society that the work has its
metaphorical power. While such poetry is not a historical rendering, it nevertheless has
no existence outside history. Images, selected at least partially for their power to elicit
strong feelings from an audience, are first removed from their mainly historical contexts,
as in the tales. Certain emotions associated with such subjects as heroism and the
kingship are intensified and reordered. Because contemporary events are thus routinely
measured against cultural values, history is constantly being revived and revised. The
poems depend on this enhanced narrative, reproduced, atomized, and redefined. It is a
subjective accounting, but the poet, using all his magic to convince his listeners
otherwise, contains these, as yet unchannelled, bursts of energy and gives history a new
gloss.
Fragmented history, which addresses the adventures of both historical and fictional
characters, is also frequently a part of African epic. It is not historical veracity in the
linear sense that determines epic, but rather the insight into history and culture provided
by this confluence of oral genres. Now, within a pretext or setting that makes possible the
merging of various frequently unrelated tales, the metaphorical apparatus—the
controlling mechanism found in the riddle and lyric, the proverb, and heroic poetry—
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coordinates this set of tales to form a larger narrative. All of this centers on the character
of the hero and a gradual revelation of his frailty, uncertainties, torments: he often dies,
falls, or is deeply troubled, in the process bringing the culture into a new dispensation
often prefigured in his resurrection or coming into knowledge. The mythical
transformation caused by the creator gods and culture heroes is reproduced precisely in
the acts and cyclical, tortured movements of the hero.
Epics
When the tale is at the heart of epic, significant changes occur. The epic is a complex
reshaping of the tale. Heroic poetry provides a grid, helping to organize the narratives and
narrativefragments that are transported into the epic framework; it also supplies the
specific historical and geographical data for certain epics. What African epics owe to the
tale tradition is not difficult to discern. Less obvious is the role that heroic poetry plays in
their construction. The simple tale weaves through the historical fragments trapped in
images and given new context in the fictional activities. A strong sense of realism thus
invests the imaginary character and his actions, even though they are taken directly from
the imaginary tale tradition.
In some works, data about geography and history are injected into the narrative, tying
the imaginative tales that compose the epic to the real world, to historical place, event,
and time. The emphasis on praise-names singles out the hero, his character, his ideals, his
struggles. This is not the case in the tale, where characters are not as important as the
actions they perform; indeed, they are often not even given names. The stress in epic is
on character, and the praise-names are evidence of this. Epic thus has a grander sweep
than either the tale or heroic poetry. It enshrines the themes and emotional experiences of
the tale on a broad scale; it embodies the details and historical and cultural specificity of
panegyric poetry.
HAROLD SCHEUB
See also Electronic Media and Oral Traditions; Oral Tradition and
Historiography; Ideophones; Oral Literature: Issues of Definition and Terminology;
Oral Performance and Literature; Oratory; Performance Studies and African
Folklore Research
SOUTHERN AFRICAN FOLKLORE:
OVERVIEW
A Historical Background
The part of the African continent called southern Africa lies between 10 and 35 degrees
south of the equator, encompassing the nations of Zambia, Malawi, Zimbabwe,
Botswana, Lesotho, South Africa, Swaziland (all former British colonies), Namibia
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(formerly a German colony, and later a South African colony), Mauritius, Seychelles
(former French colonies), Angola, and Mozambique (former Portuguese colonies). These
are now all sovereign states, having gained their independence at various stages
beginning in the late 1950s. Their systems of government are democratic, although each
has its own local variety approximating, to some degree, those of various Western
countries.
In all of them, the language of the former colonial power is used as an official medium
of communication, with one or more vernaculars serving as national languages. They,
together with the Democratic Republic of the Congo in central Africa and Tanzania in
East Africa, belong to the Southern African Development Community, a forum designed
to encourage trade and political cooperation.
Ethnic Composition
The area is extremely complex in terms of ethnic composition. The peoples of the area
are united by the common historical origin of the various vernacular languages spoken by
the native citizens. By far the greater majority of the peoples of this region speak
languages that belong to the Bantu group. With minor morphonological variations, these
languages have a common core vocabulary. For example, the name of the language group
comes from the root, ntu, the words mu-ntu (person) ba-ntu (people). There is a usage of
this word that restricts its meaning to “black person,” which can thus be extended to “a
person is one who is black in color.” So a mu-ntu is distinct from a mu-rungu, mu-zungu,
um-lungu, mu-kiwa, le-koa, i-khiwa, which are all terms used in these languages for
“white man.” It is common to hear an utterance such as “I met two people and three white
men,” said without any intention to convey racial prejudice. Bantu languages are
subdivided into smaller clusters that have more in common with themselves than with
languages in other clusters. The degree of mutual intelligibility is the factor that binds the
following clusters: the southern Bantu Nguni cluster, which includes Zulu, Xhosa, Swati,
Ndebele, (and Ngoni of Malawi); the Tswana-Sotho cluster of South Africa and
Botswana, which includes Tswana, southern Sotho, Northern Sotho, and also Lozi of
Zambia. Further north there is a cluster that includes Shona of Zimbabwe, Nyanja and
Bemba of Zambia, Chewa and Tumbuka of Malawi, and Sena of Mozambique. In
Namibia and Angola the two major clusters are Herero and Mbundu, respectively. There
is also Venda of northern South Africa and southern Zimbabwe, and the Tswa-Ronga
cluster of South Africa. The national language of Tanzania is Kiswahili, which is also
spoken in many other countries in East and central Africa, including the Democratic
Republic of the Congo, where Chiluba, Kikongo, and Lingala are the major languages.
Speakers of the above language are relative newcomers to the region when compared
to the San (Bushmen), who live in parts of South Africa, Namibia, and Botswana. The
San are the original denizens of southern Africa and are now concentrated in these three
countries after a long history of war, conquest, and displacement in their struggles to
retain their land against African immigrants into the region and European settlers. Their
folklore, including praise poetry, songs, folktales, and other lore about their huntergatherer life, are the first articulations of the nature of colonial experience from the point
of view of the colonized. Duncan Brown (1998) recognizes these oral forms as the most
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original and earliest contributions to world literature to come from southern Africa. Their
stories are about the life of the Early Race who, according to their myths, are the San’s
ancestors. Failure on the part of newcomers to the region to listen to and understand San
folklore denied them the opportunity to be guided in their interaction with the San by the
latter’s rich cultural heritage as conveyed in that folklore. Instead, a perception of the San
as prehistoric, static, and, therefore, anachronistic led not only to the neglect of their oral
literature by researchers and colonial administrators but to their near decimation.
Folklore Scholarship
Of all the genres of folklore to be found in the communities of southern Africa, the ones
that have been most extensively researched, and on which many publications have been
produced, are the verbal, which many in the field call “orature.” These include legends,
songs, proverbs, riddles, and tales. But folklore encompasses many other genres,
including nursery rhymes; traditional rituals performed to “celebrate” rites of passage,
such as birth, initiation into adulthood, marriage, death, and settling the spirit of the dead,
and the dances and various forms of drama that accompany and complement all of these
other forms. Since the communities among which these forms flourished continue to be
rural, there is folklore about the weather, domestic and wild animals, and traditionally
prescribed rewards and sanctions governing the individual’s conduct in the family and in
the wider society. For example, drought or pestilence can visit a community if the chief
or one of his subjects desecrates a shrine that is dedicated to the ancestral spirits, or if he
persistently flouts the proscription that no one should till the land on a certain holy day.
In such a case, a diviner will be consulted so that the offender is identified. Depending on
the enormity of the offense, and on the social standing of the culprit, appropriate
sanctions, ranging from imposing a fine on the of fender, exiling him, to requiring the
community as a whole to hold a propitiation ceremony at which a beast is sacrificed, may
be the only way out.
These and other practices and beliefs are what the first students of folklore in southern
Africa, including missionaries, travelers, colonial administrators, and anthropologists,
sought to come to terms with—at a time when folklore was still passed on from
generation to generation by word of mouth in nonliterate societies. They constitute what
traditional scholarship originally demarcated as folklore. But more recent research on the
subject has led scholars to realize that folklore does not serve to define only a worldview
that was prevalent in preliterate societies, and which today is confined to those that are
still illiterate or who have become semiliterate. It is the quintessential component of the
ways in which the “folk” view themselves and their place in the universe; and it informs
and prescribes the ways in which they can both nurture and exploit their material
environment in order to meet their secular and spiritual needs. Society—whether literate
or not, whether rural or urban, whether industrialized or pastoral—both consciously and
unconsciously creates and thrives on folklore. This is the inspiration behind Alan
Dundes’s expansion of the definition of the term folk, and, by extension, of what
constitutes folklore. To Dundes, “The term folk can refer to any group of people
whatsoever who share at least one common factor. It does not matter what the linking
factor is—it could be a common occupation, language, or religion—but what is important
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is that a group formed for whatever reason will have some traditions which it calls its
own.” Pointing out that a group will consist of at least two people, he claimed that the
domain of folklore can range in size from a family to a whole nation adding that given
the inclusive nature of folk and folklore, “it would be absurd to argue that there is no
folklore in the United States and that industrialization stamps out folk groups and
folklore” (1980, 6–8).
Research and interest in folklore in southern Africa began with the arrival of
Westerners in the region, whether they were missionaries, colonial administrators,
hunters, or anthropologists. Given the culture-bound nature of folklore as outlined above,
the various genres individually and collectively presented the newcomers to the region
with intractable epistemological problems. Many dismissed them as indices of the
backwardness of the natives in the march from the dark past toward civilization, on a
road along which they themselves and their societies back home had made giant strides.
This was partly because they had been schooled in an intellectual milieu that had done
little to enable them to accommodate difference.
Leray Vail and Landey White (1991) provide one of the most detailed surveys of the
theories that informed the work of Western-trained scholars and missionaries on southern
African folklore. The year 1840 marked the four-hundredth anniversary of the invention
of movable type. This was celebrated by Mendelssohn in his Second Symphony Hymn of
Praise, as indicating that “The night has passed away/and the day has come.” Vail and
White comment that for the composer, and also for the intellectuals of the time, those
societies “possessing print literacy are truly blessed by God, while those without it are
indeed benighted.” Thus the division between races was clear-cut. There developed a
belief, with a pseudoscience to buttress it, that since the races had different origins, they
had nothing in common. The possession and use of the technology to write things down
became a litmus test for being viewed as civilized (this served as an elaborate
justification for slavery for some time). But, in the 1850s, Christian thinking took
centerstage in writings about race, and the belief in polygenesis was discarded. It also
came to be realized that races with a common origin could develop along fundamentally
different lines, and at different rates, due to evolution, an influential paradigm by which
such phenomena were explained in this period.
This paradigm influenced the work of Edward Tylor who, in studying nonliterate
cultures, also used the comparative approach. Vail and White say his book was concerned
essentially with “the mental life of non-literate peoples.” This was the focus of Sir James
George Frazer’s Golden Bough (1890). He theorized that all societies, and the individuals
within them, came to understand themselves and their place in the universe by using their
mental capacities. Whereas primitive societies, “encased in a world of mystery and
magic, and with mental processes much inferior to those of [their] educated
contemporaries” (Vail and White 1991, 6), were still far behind.
One of the earliest studies of southern African societies informed by the works of
Tylor and Frazer is Dudley Kidd’s The Essential Kafir (1904). This was specifically
focused on the African peoples of the southeastern region of the continent, namely those
in the Cape Province, Mozambique, Rhodesia, and Nyasaland (Malawi). Vail and White
point out that Kidd’s work was influenced by that of Tylor and Frazer in having an
evolutionist and comparative thrust. He is quoted as writing that “when we come to
understand the silliest of their customs we are surprised to find how it fits with human
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customs the world over, and forms some of the primordial stuff out of which modern
European usages have evolved” (Vail and White 1991, 7). It is as if he half-suspected that
his subjects might not be human.
Vail and White also comment that Kidd’s portrayal of the African would have found
ready acceptance among the white settlers, since it echoed their own racial stereotyping
of the natives. Some of his assertions about his subjects could not have been entertained
if he had conducted a thorough study of local folklore. Kidd is reported as having said
that the African could not be trusted to be truthful, not out of malice, but because,
“childlike, he could not grasp the importance of truth.” Further, Kidd claimed that
because the native African had undeveloped mental capacities, he had no sense of logic
and was thus “capable of entertaining contradictory ideas at the same time” (Vail and
White 1991, 7–8). It was also believed that the native African lacked the ability to
classify phenomena, was unable to think in abstract terms, and was weak in grasping
causal relationships.
Modern Scholarship
Modern scholarship has come a long way since The Essential Kafir. All the epithets with
which Kidd labels the southern African native have since been shown to be contradicted
by various aspects of the folklore of the region. No society, in Africa or anywhere else,
could survive unless it placed a premium on the value of truth. Communities in the region
have proverbs that emphasize this fact, that the truth cannot be hidden. The Shona of
Zimbabwe say: “That which has horns cannot be concealed (by covering it) in a bundle
of grass.” To emphasize the importance and stubbornness of the truth, the Shona pronoun
for “that which” is in the augmentative form, ri-, instead of the diminutive chi-. Further,
parallel to the English saying, “Cash talk breaks no friendship” a Shona proverb
proclaims “The truth does not destroy a relationship.”
As for being comfortable with entertaining two contradictory ideas at the same time,
the African’s answer is that this ensures that extremes are avoided. Things must be done
in moderation, with the individual always striving to achieve the golden mean in his or
her conduct. Thus, both cooperation and individualism are recommended in the
proverbial lore, with circumstances determining which one to choose: “What is mine
alone is food/ when it comes to a court case, I call others,” which is in apparent
contradiction to “Too many mice make no lining for their nest” (which is very similar to
the English saying: “Too many cooks spoil the broth”).
Above all, the very fact that a community has its own proverbial lore, riddles, tales,
and religious beliefs means that its members have the mental capacity to think in abstract
terms and to philosophize about the human condition. The observation of human conduct,
of the flora and fauna in the ecological environment, and of the seasons, together with the
dialectical interrelations of these and other phenomena, has inspired the African (as it has
done others beyond Africa) to develop a complex, multigenre folklore. This folklore
serves to regulate social behavior even as it educates citizens about opportunities for selffulfillment, their responsibilities and rights, about sanctions for aberrant conduct, and the
rewards for conduct that bolsters the integrity of the social fabric.
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Praise Poetry
Many studies of the praise poetry of southern African societies have been conducted. For
the Xhosa there are the works of A.C. Jordan (1973) and Jeff Opland (1983): Liz Gunner
and Mafika Gwala’s Musho (1991) is a generously illustrated discussion of Zulu popular
praises, as opposed to those of the rulers, which have been studied more recently by,
among others, Duncan Brown (1998). The latter covers several genres besides praise
poetry. Beginning with the oral literature of the Xam Bushmen, Brown analyzes the
praises of King Shaka, and he then dwells at length on the hymns composed and
performed by Isaiah Shembe’s Church of the Nazarites. He comments on the vitality of
this oral genre, which arises from its merging of texts from both Zulu traditional praises
and the Bible. This hybridity of South African poetry was carried over into the writings
and oral performances of the poets of the black consciousness movement in the 1970s.
These poets, because they were addressing issues arising from the ravages of the
apartheid system, conveyed their messages partly orally and partly in writing. Written
versions of their work were always in danger of being censored or banned altogether (and
they often were), because they were seen by the authorities as subversive.
The Ngoni of Malawi and the Ndebele of Zimbabwe are offshoots of the Zulu. The
praises of the latter group have been studied by Caleb Dube (1988) and Themba
Nkabinde (1990), while Vail and White devote a whole chapter to Andrew Smith’s study
of the praises of Mzilikazi, the Ndebele king who led his people from Zululand to
present-day Zimbabwe in 1834–1835. Alfred Mtenje and Boston Soko (1998) and Moyo
(1978) have written studies of the praises of the Ngoni. Saac Schapera’s (1965) and
Daniel Kunene’s (1971) works on the praises of the Sotho-Tswana group remain classics
even today. The best known works on Shona praises are those by Aaron Hodza and
George Fortune (1979), and by Alec Pongweni (1996).
Other Folklore
In addition to work on the praises, many publications have appeared on other types of
folklore, such as riddles (Pongweni and Chiwome, 1995), music (Coplan 1985; Pongweni
1982), folktales (Scheub 1999), and on aspects of the folklore of women’s household
work (Seloma 1998). David Coplan’s book is on the music and theater of black people in
the townships of apartheid South Africa, while Pongweni’s is on the songs sung by
Zimbabwe’s liberation war cadres. Each of those books deals with the creative
responsiveness of the genre to contemporary political and economic issues under
oppressive and undemocratic regimes. This same responsiveness of music is evident
today, when the region is threatened with extinction by the scourges of famine and AIDS.
While the more established breakaway church denominations have been inundated
with new converts in unprecedented numbers, new ones have sprung up, as people turn to
religion to find explanations and solutions to their problems. They do this in songs whose
lyrics merge messages from the scriptures and from traditional religion. On the other
hand, Michael Bourdillon (1998) has written an authoritative and wide-ranging study of
the Shona peoples of Zimbabwe, covering their folklore regarding the individual’s and
society’s obligations and rights in many aspects of life, such as marriage, land
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“ownership,” the traditional roles of men as opposed to those of women, chieftainship,
witchcraft, the roles of the medicine man and the diviner in times of sickness and other
misfortune, and religion. Each of these studies, and others mentioned here, carry long
lists of references and bibliographies that show just how much work has been done by
scholars from various backgrounds on the folklore of southern Africa.
It is clear to modern scholars that, far from providing evidence that southern African
societies lived in a state of homeostasis, as Dudley Kidd and others claimed, folklore is
decidedly responsive and adaptive to changing sociopolitical developments. This is
evident in many of its genres, particularly in the ones on which most research has been
done. In 2001, Russell Kaschula published a collection of essays from a 1998 conference
under the title African Oral Literature: Functions in Contemporary Contexts. Omit the
colon in the title and you have Kaschula making a statement about the perennial
relevance to African life of one genre of folklore. Or, perhaps not one genre, when one
considers the chapter headings in the book, about which he writes:
The chapters in this book comment on various aspects of contemporary
African existence and how orality permeates our daily lives. These
chapters are grouped under the following appropriate headings: orality
and music; orality and gender; orality and medicine; orality, theatre and
cinema; orality and religion; orality, text, texture and context, as well as
orality, history, and politics (2001, xvi).
Folklore permeates the lives of the people of southern Africa, in the sense that its
knowledge is like that of a nonverbal language, particularly as it serves what Michael
Halliday (1971) called the “ideational” and the “interpersonal” functions in one’s life. Of
the ideational function he wrote, “the speaker or writer embodies in language his
experience of the phenomena of the real world,” for himself and others. The interpersonal
function serves to position the individual in relation to others who have knowledge of the
folklore shared by the community to which they all belong. Folklore serves to guide, to
evaluate, and to criticize conduct, providing a running commentary on human behavior.
The leader of Zimbabwe’s war veterans, who in the first years of the twenty-first century
violently dispossessed white farmers of their land, was asked by journalists what he
planned to do with the two or more farms that he allegedly acquired. The story goes that
he replied, “I plan to become a successful white farmer.”
References
Brown, Duncan. 1998. Voicing the Text: South African Oral Poetry and Performance. Cape Town.
Oxford University Press.
Coplan, David B. 1985. In Township Tonight: South Africa’s Black City Music and Theatre. New
York: Longman.
Damane, M. and P.B.Sanders, eds. 1974. Lithoko: Sotho Praise Poems. Oxford. Clarendon Press.
Dube, C. 1988. Ndebele Oral Art: Its Development within the Historico-Socio-Economic Context.
M. Phil, thesis. University of Zimbabwe.
Dundes, Alan. 1980. Interpreting Folklore. Bloomington, Indiana University Press.
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Guenther, Mathias G. 1989. Bushmen Folktales: Oral Traditions of the Nharo of Botswana and the
Xam of the Cape. Stuttgart. Franz Steiner Verlag Wiesbaden GMBH.
Guma, Sam M. 1967. The Form, Content, and Technique of Traditional Literature in Southern
Sotho. Pretoria: J.L. van Schaik.
Gunner, Liz and Mafika Gwala. 1991. Musho! Zulu Popular Praises. East Lansing: Michigan State
University Press.
Halliday, Michael, A.K. 1971. Linguistic Function and Literary Style. In Literary Style: A
Symposium, ed. Seymour Chatman. New York, Oxford University Press.
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Wisdom. 2d ed. Gweru: Mambo Press.
Hodza, Aaron C. and George Fortune. 1979. Shona Praise Poetry. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Jordan, Archibald C. 1973. Towards an African Literature: The Emergence of Literary Form In
Xhosa. Berkerley, University of California Press.
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Claremont, South Africa: New Africa Books.
Kidd, Dudley. [1904] 1971. The Essential Kafir. Freeport, N.Y.: Books for Library Presses.
Kunene, Daniel P. 1971. Heroic Poetry of the Basotho. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Levy-Bruhl, Lucien. [1926] 1985. How Natives Think. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press.
Lewis-Williams, David. 1981. Believing and Seeing: Symbolic Meaning in Southern San Rock
Paintings. New York: Academic Press.
Mapanje, Jack, and Landey White, eds. 1983. Oral Poetry from Africa: An Anthology. New York:
Longman.
Moyo, S. 1978. A Linguo-Aesthetic Study of Ngoni Poetry. Madison: University of Wisconsin
Micro-film.
Mtenje, Alfred and Boston Soko. 1998. Oral Traditions among the Northern Malawi Ngoni.
Journal of Humanities. 12:1–18.
Nkabinde, Themba. 1990. Modern Ndebele Poetry: Characteristics and Development. M. Phil.
thesis. University of Zimbabwe.
Opland, Jeff. 1983. Xhosa Oral Poetry: Aspects of a Black South African Tradition. Cambridge,
England: Cambridge University Press.
Pongweni, Alec. 1996. Shona Praise Poetry as Role Negotiation: The Battles of the Clans and the
Sexes. Gweru: Mambo Press.
Pongweni, A. 1982. Songs that Won the Liberation War. Harare: The College Press.
Pongweni, A., and Emanuel M.Chiwome. 1995. Zvirahwe Zvakare Nezvitsva: Traditional and
Modern Shona Riddles. Eiffel Flats. Zimbabwe: Juta Zimbabwe.
Rycroft, David. 1976. Southern Bantu Clan-Praises: A Neglected Genre. In Bulletin of the School
of Oriental and African Studies (University of London) 39, no. 1:155–159.
Schapera, Isaac, ed. 1965. Praise Poems of Tswana Chiefs. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Scheub, Harold. 1999. The African Storyteller: Stories from African Oral Traditions. Dubuque,
Iowa: Kendall/Hunt.
Seloma, Pearl S. 1998. When Women’s Worlds Collide: A Folkloristic Study of Household Work in
Botswana. Ph.D. Diss., University of California, Los Angeles.
Stuart, James. 1968. Izibongo: Zulu Praise-Poems. Ed. Trevor Cope. Oxford: Clarendon.
Vail, Leray, and Landey White. 1991. Power and the Praise Poem: Southern African Voices in
History. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia.
——. 1984. The Art of Being Ruled: Ndebele Praise-Poetry, 1835–1971. In Literature and Society
in Southern Africa. Ed. L. White and Tim Couzens. Cape Town: Maskew Miller Longman.
ALEC J.C.PONGWENI
See also Callaway; Oral Literature; Praise Poetry
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SOUTHERN AFRICAN ORAL
TRADITIONS
Most branches of the Khoisan people (the Korana, Ng’huki, Seroa, Xam, Xegwi, and
Xiri) are either extinct or nearly extinct. The Nama survive, mainly in Namibia—there
are some 146,000 (1995) in Namibia and South Africa. The ancient rock paintings of the
San people, thousands of years old, are the evocative, if sometimes enigmatic,
repositories of the mythic system of the San. The graphic images tell a story of intrepid
San hunters, magnificent herds of animals, and the gods. These ancient “museums” are a
part of southern Africa’s storytelling treasure.
Early Studies
Contemporary oral storytellers have continued the tradition. In the mid-nineteenth
century, the German philologist W.H.I. Bleek, with the help of Lucy Lloyd, collected,
annotated, and translated San myths and tales. Among the great storytellers and
mythmakers they encountered was Kábbo, a prisoner being held on Robben Island. Other
San storytellers have been documented, including those encountered by Lorna and John
Marshall in 1955 (Stephens 1971), Marguerite Biesele (1975), and J.M.Orpen (1874).
Bleek worked with other estimable San storytellers, including Día!kwãin, a!kúnta, and
Kásin. But Kábbo (the name means “dream”) was, without question, the most
imaginative and poetic of these storytellers, and he remains, in the midst of a people
moving towards extinction, a golden thread weaving from the middle of the nineteenth
century back to those ancient rock paintings that burst in splendor in caves and on walls
throughout southern Africa. In one of the rock paintings, one sees the San hunters in
pursuit of magnificent elands, moving through the space of time. In the background,
masked and mysterious, are the figures of the gods, observing, and perhaps orchestrating,
the ancient relationship between human and animal. It is that metaphorical relationship
between images that adorns the walls and caves, inspiring poetic interpretations by
contemporary observers (see Lewis-Williams 1981, 1982; and Vinnecombe 1976). And it
is this metaphorical relationship that is used in words by Kábbo in such stories as that of
the creator god, Kággen, or Mantis, and a swallowing monster, Khwáihemm (Bleek and
Lloyd 1911, 30–40). Kággen, a divine trickster, has played an unworthy trick on ticks,
and when he is beaten by the ticks for his deed, he dreams that he robs the heavenly ticks
of all of their possessions and ways of life, transporting these to earth, thereby
establishing San civilization. When God awakens, his dream has come to fruition. But
Kággen has also invited into this new world the fiery Khwái-hemm: that is, he has
created the force of fire. That force proceeds to devour everything that God has created,
even God himself in the end, leaving behind only two children and their teacher. In the
second part of the story, the teacher instructs the children on how to withstand the
destructive force of Khwái-hemm, and they destroy the monster, releasing all from within
its belly. The humans have thus re-created the world that God had given them. The
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storyteller is making the point that God creates, but humans must themselves learn to deal
with the great forces that God has given them, or else they will perish.
In a Tswana myth, the Creator of all things sends the chameleon to earth to tell the
people that when they die they will be reborn. But because Chameleon was slow, a lizard
overtook him and gave his own message to the humans: “Whenever people die, they die
for good” (Jones and Plaatje 1916, 1–2). And so it was that death came into the world.
Xhosa myth celebrates Qamatha, “master of everything, father of all things,…the creator
of old” (Sinhanha Mbalo 1967, Scheub collection). Death means a movement to the
heavens: “Guide me, O Hawk!/ That I may go heavenward./To seek the one-hearted
man,/ Away from the double-hearted men,/Who deal in blessing and cursing.” With
irony, the commentator adds, “We trust that there were some of our people in heaven
before the missionaries came” (Callaway, 1880, 59). The storytelling tradition unfolds
within this mythic frame. In a Zulu origin myth, Umpondo Kambule (Callaway, 1868,
89–95) effectively blends a contemporary kidnapping tale and a mythic parting of waters
and emergence from reeds: the past is destroyed and a new world born. Callaway’s Zulu
informants provide some detail regarding this mythic system. In the Zulu religious
system, Nkulunkulu is God: “The old men say that Unkulunkulu is Umvelinqangi [the
first being, the creator], for they say he came out first; they say he is the Uthlanga
[potential source of being] from which all men broke off” (Ufulatela Sitole, quoted in
Callaway, 1913, 7).
Heroic Poetry
Heroic poetry is popular throughout southern Africa. A Ndebele poem reads: “News of
the nation of Matshoban’, dzi dzi!/Come and see, come and see!/Here is news of
Matshoban’!/No other nation will come, dzi dzi!” (Trask 1966, 85). The continued
influence of such oral poetry can be seen in contemporary literature by Ndebele poets. Of
the various categories of oral tradition among the Sotho people, heroic poetry is highly
valued. Everitt Lechesa Segoete found emotional power in the Sotho national poem,
“Mokorotlo (Song of the Enemies) and notes in his Raphepheng that the words are so sad
that “There is no Mosotho who listens to them without feeling his heart rise” as the song
causes him to remember other times: “It is an ageless war song, unchanging. It treats of
death and war, of vultures eating the bodies of men: ‘Boy child, offering to the vultures,
and to Jackal and Crow.’ Although the song is about men, its words have a poignant
effect on women as well. When they hear it, they utter shrill cries. As long as the Basotho
remain a nation, the song will be sung” (1913, 37).
Azariele M.Sekese described how Sotho warriors, during times of war, composed
praise songs for themselves. Some leaders, among them Lejaha Makhabane, also
composed poetry for themselves. A warrior would recount the details of his valorous
behavior on the day of battle. Having done so, he would stab the ground a number of
times equal to the number of enemy soldiers he had killed: “If it was one, he would stab
the ground once; if two, then he would stab twice…” As he did so, the group that
surrounded him would join in, crying, “Hii! Hii! Hii! Hii!” each time he stabbed the
ground. Then, as he ended his activity, he would point with his spear the number of times
equivalent to the number of those he had killed, pointing towards the enemy. And he
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would continue to sing his praises: “Whirlwind of the enemies of Lejaha,/The whirlwind
finished the people,/People were swept away in a shower of spears,/ Summer floods,
whirlwind,/Hail with hard drops” (Sekese 1931, 69–70).
S.K.Lekgothoane wrote that the Sotho “are taught hundreds and even thousands of
lines of prase-poems, for everything that we see with our eyes we can praise, and besides,
such things as we know from thinking about them or hearing about them, without seeing
them, all these we call praise.” Oral poems, he argued, “refer to past history, to present
events and to the future. There is great prophecy in them, they are a prayer….
Furthermore, it is deep learning. We are enabled to establish harmony between ourselves
and God and the departed spirits by means of praises. It is rejoicing and it is weeping
with which we cry unto God. The praises reveal what a man thinks in his heart” (1938,
191–193). Eugene Casalis wrote, “The hero of the piece is almost always the author of it.
On his return from war he cleanses himself in the neighboring river, and then places his
lance and his shield in safety…. He recounts [his exploits] in a high-flown manner. He is
carried away by the ardor of his feelings, and his expressions become poetical” (1859,
328–329). Moshoeshoe I, the founder of the Sotho nation, has been praised in poetry by
such bards as Lishobane Mpaki Molapo, a greatgrandson of Moshoeshoe: “You who are
fond of praising the ancestors,/Your praises are poor when you leave out the
warrior,/When you leave out Thesele, the son of Mokhachane;/ For it’s he who’s the
warrior of the wars,/Thesele is brave and strong,/That is Moshoeshoe-Moshaila”
(Damane and Sanders 1974, 73).
Swati heroic poetry sometimes treats a leader who “was always known by his men,
who would praise him for any act of generosity, in battle and in the chase. The praises
were not recited in an ordinary voice, but were called out at the top of the voice in as
rapid a manner as possible” (Cook 1931, 183). In a poem dedicated to King Ludonga I,
the bard sings, “They are hungry in the kraals and they want a king to be born,/The news
of him is sweet to the people” (Cook 1931, 196–197). On October 9, 1972, at the royal
residence of Sobhuza II, in Entonjeni, Swaziland, Mtshophane Mamba, a Swati bard,
then about sixty years old, sang of “The-long-eared-Bhuza-who-hears-no-news:/ When
he does hear news, he hurries to the shield,/Thundering shield!” He cries, “You move like
the thundering birds of the sea./The cold of your arrow/Is like an open grave./You are
like a lion that eats men.” Hilda Kuper writes, “Traditional African history is recorded in
such tibongo (praises) recited on public occasion. Different bards, or oral historians,
present their own selections of events and the same events may receive different
emphasis and conflicting interpretations” (Kuper 1978, 16). “The rumbling is deep and
reverberates like the tramping of many feet,” sings the Tswana bard, “Splendid young
man that you are, Modingwane” (Ellenberger 1937, 7), This is a heroic poem dedicated to
the leader, Modingwane a Mokgoywe a Pooe. If there are poems heralding the acts of
kings, there are also poems celebrating the deeds of commoners: “I entered within, I
smote the ox [to be slaughtered at his marriage]/with a crooked shin” (Norton 1922, 256).
To Edison Bokako, the Tswana oral heroic poem is “a story of endeavor, of resistance
overcome, of something accomplished. In it an individual was glorified, a momentous
occasion recalled, or the achievement of victory celebrated.” Such poetry, he argued,
aroused the national consciousness, “and the atmosphere it created of ancestral might and
liberty kindled the desire for the greatest effort” on behalf of the nation. It was no trivial
matter, “rather was the highest distinction conferred for valor and for safeguarding tribal
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permanence and security. To the soldier it was a highly coveted prize, the highest reward
for courage and manliness.” The heroic poem, Bokako continues
is laudatory. The poet freely indulges ornament, entertaining contrasts
between major and minor personalities. No man is presented under
ordinary light, no man is allowed to appear only with what strictly belongs
to him, no circumstance in which he appears is presented except as a
swelling spectacle. There is no lack of embroidery. The might of heroes is
exaggerated. This is because heroic poetry is not bare realism. For two
reasons. Firstly, because the poet must secure that largeness of atmosphere
which will produce the illusion of heroic ampleness. Secondly, because
the “grim resolution of heroic despair” does not allow him to use a less
self-conscious style. Hence there can be no question of whether this
insistence on the wonderful vitiates the sobriety of heroic poetry. An
actual antidote to counteract the demoralizing effects of the relentless and
blighting militarism of that day was found in the spirit of poetry which in
Matthew Arnold’s words “attaches its emotion to the idea” (Bokako,
Appendix A, 1–2).
Ernest Sedumeli Moloto insisted that more is involved in such poetry than praising a
leader. He tells of how Montshiwa, the leader of the Tshidi branch of the Barolong
people, with his fellow warriors, assassinated Ndebele King Mzilikazi’s emissaries in
about 1832. The bards commemorated the event, in part, as follows: “Those men were
the emissaries of Mzilikazi./He had sent Boya and Bhangele to visit us/But you crafty son
of Tawana ate them up:/Yours will be similarly eaten up craftily—/Remember you are
not a made dog, but a man.” Moloto notes, “The point at issue…is that there was
intertribal suspicion simmering between the Rolong and the Nguni.” He asks, “Who says
Mzilikazi’s intentions were honest? And who says the denigration of Montshiwa by his
bard is not intended to forewarn and therefore fore-arm him? That is the role of the bard.
The bard is a constructive institution. He is a loving critic” (1970, 81–82).
Isaac Schapera observes that boys undergoing rites of passage “were gathered every
evening round the camp fire, and took turns in reciting their compositions.” The men
responsible for the education of the boys offered suggestions when their poems were
weak. At the end of the ceremony marking the close of the rites, the boys returned to their
homes with their fathers, “where, to the applause of the people assembled to welcome
them back,…‘they praised their names,’ i.e., each in turn recited his composition” (1965,
2–3). A.C.Jordan speaks of the creator of heroic poetry as composer and public reciter
with a background in the history and culture of his people, a person honored by his
community. Such a poet was S.E.K.Mqhayi, who created in both oral and literary genres.
H.M.Ndawo and D.P.Yali-Manisi collected such poems.
Elements of Oral Poetry
Xhosa oral poetry has also been the subject of study. Archie Mafeje states that the poet
“celebrates victories of the nation, sings songs of praise, chants the laws and customs of
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the nation, he recites the genealogies of the royal families.” He notes that praise is not the
only attitude taken in the poetry; the bard also “criticizes the chiefs for perverting the
laws and the customs of the nation and laments their abuse of power and neglect of their
responsibilities and obligations to the people” (Mafeje 1967, 195). Samuel Mqhayi writes
of the great silence when the poet begins his work, his voice purposely kept low, not
strident, his tone in sympathy with people’s hearts made tender by the day’s event. So
elegant is his poem, so forceful its imagery, that men weep, while women do not attend to
their cooking and the food burns. Some who have been smoking burn their pipe stems.
No one among them moves, some unknowingly stand naked, others pull their garments
too tightly around their bodies and tear them.
Dumisani, the bard, reminds the people
In olden days when mountains appeared,
One person was placed as ruler of us all.
It was said this was a person of royal blood,
It was said this was the child of the nation,
It was said this person must be submitted to by all,
And he in turn must submit to God
Whence law and custom emanate,/And when the king
is wrong it will not be good:
Trouble and confusion will result
(Mghayi 1931, 32–35).
W.B.Rubusana contended that the poetry is composed of “speech which concentrates all
of the eloquence of the Xhosa language, comprising all the figurative aspects of Xhosa”
(1911, vi). Jordan adds that the language of the poetry is elegant, “highly figurative,” and
“abounding in epithets” (Jordan, 1973b, 21). B.W.Vilakazi describes a Zulu poet in this
way:
A Zulu man who is considered to have a natural gift of seeing and feeling
most in the wake and experience of life, will look at his king, survey him
in the light of his ancestors, and again turn over in his mind the heroic
deeds of his king and even his weaknesses. Suddenly he will spring up in
a crowd with his shield pointed to the sky and the whole of his body
tingling with emotional excitement. The crowd is bound to listen to him.
Such a man is never requested to do his duty, but stirred by the
performance of his tribal ceremony and imbued with national pride, feels
it most opportune for him to express his feelings, and thus fulfills his selfimposed duty. He cries out, “Bayede!” (Hail, O King!) And the crowd is
all silent (Vilakazi 1937, 12).
Referring to the oral stories of the Zulu, Callaway argued in 1868
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If carefully studied and compared with corresponding legends among
other people, they will bring out unexpected relationships, which will
more and more force upon us the great truth, that man has everywhere
thought alike, because everywhere, in every country and clime, under
every tint of skin, under every varying social and intellectual condition, he
is still man,—one in all the essentials of man,—one in which is a stronger
proof of essential unity, than mere external differences are of differences
of nature,—one in his mental qualities, tendencies, emotions, passions”
(Callaway 1868, preface).
Mvingana, the bard of Zulu King Dinuzulu (1870–1913), working within the Zulu poetic
tradition, weaves some ten patterns into a unified whole. Within this richly textured
design of the poem are brief unpatterned passages. In this work, the king is criticized
even as he is being praised. The poet speaks of a war of total destruction: everything is
being pulverized, even the grinding stone, the propping stone, the tobacco fields, the
wrapping mats—all homely images, destroyed utterly. “Dinuzulu does not kill,” exclaims
the poet, “He destroys even the grinding stone” (Grant 1927–1929). In contemporary
times, the poetry tradition continues to flourish. Umhle Biyela of Yanguya in kwaZulu
remembers the mythic founders of the Biyela people: “Ndaba stepped hard, and a lake
appeared,” he sings. He calls the subjects of his poems “Stabber-into-the-mist” and
“Awesome cliffs-of-the-wilderness.” And he describes “Beauty as revealed in
houses:/They are beautiful, including the one at Mbuyeni,/ Because they are beautiful and
black” (Scheub 1972).
The San poet Día!kwãin sings of a man shot by a Boer commando. As he dies, he
teaches his songs to the father of the poet. One of the songs is a lament, sorrowful
because “the string is broken” and the “ringing sound in the sky” is no longer heard by
the singer. Typically, the poem opens with a strong image that is repeated, as the poet
carefully works new images from it, repeating it with variation. He develops a companion
image, peeling a new image from the juxtaposition. The first two lines, “People were
those who/Broke for me the string,” establish the problem of the poem; the poet then
explores lyrically what this has meant for him, formulating his basic set three times,
incrementally revealing his feelings with each repetition. The sense of loss, of alienation,
is the emotion being expressed here, not the actual history of the event. The finest
example of Venda oral tradition is the epic Ngoma-lungundu, about the drum of the dead.
An especially dramatic version of the story was created by E.Mudau (Van Warmelo
1940).
Oral History
Among the Tsonga, Sikwaazwa, remembering an event that occurred to him in the final
years of the nineteenth century, creates an oral history about the death of his father: “I
know you. Your name is Sikwaazwa. Your father is no longer alive, he is dead, it was the
Ndebele who killed him. Your mother is the one who is alive. Now she is married, Choka
is the one who married her. Thereupon I wept,” and, recalling the Anglo-Boer War: “we
heard that the war of the whites had arrived. As soon as it reached Johannesburg…, we
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heard the guns firing very loudly, they fired, there was fighting” (Jones and Carter 1967,
96–102).
Oral history is also a significant part of the Xhosa oral tradition. Mdukiswa Tyabashe,
a Mpondomise, re-creates Mpondomise history, effectively and daringly bringing history
and fantasy into a viable relationship (Scheub 1996, 227–274). This Xhosa historian and
poet details the entirety of the history, weaving the fantasy storytelling tradition into the
historical account in order to give dimension, resonance, and meaning to history.
Ndumiso Bhotomane, another Xhosa historian, builds his account around a generational
timeline of kings, working into the timeline anecdotal historical accounts (Scheub 1996,
31–47).
Proverbs and Riddles
Proverbs and riddles are important parts of southern African oral traditions. The Ndebele
oral tradition, like its Zulu and Xhosa counterparts further south, also includes poetry,
history, riddles, and proverbs. “Unyathela inyoka emsileni” (You tread on the snake’s
tail) and “Izolo liyembelwa” (Yesterday is buried) are Ndebele proverbs (Pelling 1977,
23, 85). Vutomi i norho, “Bya hundza tani hi norho” (Life is a dream. It passes like a
dream) is a Tsonga proverb (Junod 1936, 294–295). Venda oral tradition includes poetry,
narrative, song, riddle, proverb, and history. “If a great one is lame, his subjects limp,” is
one Venda proverb, while another states, “The heart is the elder brother of man”
(Wessmann 1908, 76–77). Riddles include: “A chief presided and the people surrounded
him” (The moon and the stars) and “An old man whose grey hair is inside his belly” (The
grey fibers inside a pumpkin) (Stayt 1931, 359). “The proverbs,” the Zulu writer
C.L.Sibusiso Nyembezi has written, “are a collection of the experiences of a people,
experiences some of which have been learned the hard way. Those experiences are stored
in this special manner, and from generation to generation they are passed on, ever fresh
and ever true. The new experiences of the younger generations are themselves embalmed
in this special manner, and in that way the language is enriched more and more” (1954,
xii).
The Narrative Tale
As in most societies, the tale is by far the most popular of the genres of the real tradition.
Ndebele performers emphasize the necessity of retaining linkages with the past. In a story
having to do with girls moving to womanhood, Eva Ndlovu warns, “People who do not
heed custom are consumed, they have not followed the patterns of behavior prescribed in
ancient times. Nothing goes well for those who do not listen to the values of the people of
old.” In a tale by Mercy Sidile, an old woman, an old man, and a frog test two sisters,
determining if they are prepared to move to womanhood; and in a story performed by
Clevis Gumpo, a phantom of the forests ravages the countryside, destroying the children
of his wife: “Never again did she return to her husband’s place. But she never lived
happily, because her heart was always remembering her children” (Scheub 1972). The
hare is a popular Ndebele trickster: “Well is he named ‘The Clever One of the Veld.’
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Only once that I know has the laugh been against him” (Savory 1962, 52). In 1908,
Edouard Jacottet of the Sotho wrote that “Africa has treasures, for the most part still
hidden, in store for the student of folk-lore” (1908, xiv). Among the Sotho storytellers
who provided the rich materials for Jacottet’s collections were Moshe Mosetse and
‘Mamangana: “I have taken great care to reproduce them exactly in the form they were
dictated to me,” he wrote, “and have not tried to reduce them to any given standard”
(1908, xxii). Among the stories in his collections is “Kumonngoe,” the story of Thakane,
a girl who grows to womanhood, struggling first against her restrictive father (he decides
to have her destroyed because she cut into his kumonngoe [milk tree]), and then against a
nation of swallowing monsters; in the process, she moves to completeness as the
storyteller simultaneously develops dramatic arguments having to do with proper human
relations. Jacottet’s collection is one of southern Africa’s finest, the stories detailed and
full, the images resonant and profound.
Swati tales have much in common with those of the Zulu and Xhosa. Chakijana (a
mongoose), for example, is a trickster to both the Swati and the Zulu (Engelbrecht 1930,
7–10). A boy in a story by Sarah Dlamini (Scheub 1972) eats a medicinal herb and
becomes pregnant in a whimsical dramatization of the growth of the boy to adulthood.
She also tells a poignant story of a young man who, seeking to kill another, ends up
destroying his own child (Scheub 1972). Ntombinde is abandoned by her fellows in an
ocher pit in a tale told by Albertine Nxumalo (Scheub 1972). “The Unnatural Mother” is
a tale about a woman who “sinned against nature” and is exiled to “strange countries, and
[was told] you must never come back till you have found the water in which there are no
frogs, no fishes, and no animals of any kind.” In a far-off land, she finds the water but she
cannot rise, and the limbs of a tree grow around her “and hold her fast.” A rabbit releases
her, and she takes the water to her soon. When she gives it to him, the world is
transformed: “All the little paths became winding streets, and the trees became beautiful
round houses, woven with great skill. The animals became men and women….” The hare
is the typical Tsonga trickster (Fell 1–35): “And the lion died. The hare deceived him”
(Bourhill and Drake 1908, 58–65). “Basiangandu” is the story of a young woman who
seeks a husband but whose mother, opposed to any marriage, sets out to destroy the men
the young woman marries. The old woman kills the first husband, but the young woman
and her second husband outwit the old woman, destroying her: “Now then he molded
wax. He threw it down to the ground. Whilst the old woman was still cutting [the tree],
the wax became a leopard. It bit the old woman” (Fell 140–145). So it is that the girl
moves into womanhood, severing her ties with her childhood past. There is also the brief
story of Muloba:
A certain boy used to live on an island. And he was always playing his
fiddle. All the people wished to see him. But there was no canoe. Now he
was longing for one girl only, because that girl was poor. But nevertheless
all the girls used to sing about him, they said, “O Muloba,/Siasai./ O
Muloba,/It is the bow which glitters,/For which we cry./Try, can you not
bottom it,/O Muloba, the beautiful,/It is the bow which glitters,/For which
we cry.” Continually, they were singing about him thus, and were trying
to reach where he was. But they kept going to him until, yes, that very
girl, the very one crossed over herself alone (Fell 145).
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There are also stories of a boy named Drum who has a sister in a community in which
girl-children are to be destroyed. The story centers on the survival of the girl due to her
harmonious ties with nature (Torrend 1910). Among Tswana tales are the story of a man
who had a tree growing on his head (Curtis 40–41) and stories of the trickster tortoise and
his various dupes (Jones and Plaatje 1916, 8–9). Sankhambi, the tortoise, is a typical
Venda trickster, and tales include the story of a beautiful girl who had no teeth (Stayt
1931, 339–341) and a strange story of Malambatata, the child who died grinning
(Lestrade 1949, 29–31).
The Xhosa
The Xhosa oral tradition ranges from ancient myths to tales of heroic deeds to poetry of
eminent kings. Storytellers argue that these ancient traditions are a crucial means of
connecting members of contemporary society to the traditional past. Stories range from
heroic activities of such men and women as Sikhuluma and Mityi (Theal 1882; Zenani
1992) to the antic behavior of tricksters, including the diminutive Hlakanyana and the
wily jackal. In the oral poetry of the Xhosa (Rubusana, 1911; Opland 1983), the subject
matter is broad, from descriptions of rulers to evocations of everyday life. Also included
in the Xhosa oral tradition are riddles and proverbs (Soga 1931; Matsebula 1948). There
were some early compilations of Xhosa stories (e.g., Theal 1882); one of the most
impressive collections is that by A.C. Jordan, including a poignant love story, “The
Turban,” a tale of a boundless passion that leads to tragedy. More recently, a set of stories
performed by Nongenile Masithathu Zenani impressively reveals the poetic possibilities
of the Xhosa tradition. In her story “Nomanaso,” Zenani takes an ancient story of
Qwebethe, a persistent pursuer, and builds a complex story around it, detailing the
tensions between a mother and her daughter (1992a, 438–458). By using the fantasy
imagery of the pursuer, and by metaphorically juxtaposing mother, daughter, and fantasy
pursuer, the performer takes her audience into the tormented psyche of the central
character, showing her moving with uncertainty, but also with determination, to her new
status as a woman. Other inventive Xhosa storytellers include Noplani Gxavu (Scheub
1975, 334–367; Scheub 1996, 163–186) and Emily Ntsobane (Scheub 1996, 187–201).
The Zulu
Among the Zulu, common forms of oral tradition include tales, poetry, histories,
proverbs, and riddles. Parts of the Zulu oral tradition have been preserved in print by
researchers, ranging from Henry Callaway in the mid-nineteenth century to such
contemporary Zulu scholars as C.L.S.Nyembezi and B.W. Vilakazi. Significant
storytellers whose work is available in print include Lydia Umkasethemba (Callaway
1868) and Sondoda Ngcobo (Scheub 1996). The work of a number of talented poets has
survived, including that of Mvingana, a poet of Dinuzulu, and Gwebisa, a poet of Zibebu,
a Madlakazi ruler (both in Grant 1927–1929). James Stuart published the work of a
number of poets, including Magolwana, the poet of Mphande. Umhle Biyela, a fortyyear-old Zulu poet, in Yanguya, kwaZulu, was recorded in September, 1972.
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The Zulu writer C.L.Sibusiso Nyembezi compiled an impressive collection of
proverbs. The finest Zulu storyteller recorded by Callaway, and arguably the most
accomplished Zulu performer yet recorded, was Lydia Umkasetemba. Callaway
transcribed and translated eight stories by Umkasetemba, the most impressive being
“Umxakaza-wakogingqwayo” and “Untombiyaphansi.” In the former, a princess is
exposed as not being ready for her purification ritual; nature, in the form of a monster,
removes her from her home and takes her to a far-off place where, in the realm of fantasy
and the psyche, she undergoes a proper initiation into adulthood. In the process, the moral
grotesqueness of her childhood, dramatically revealed by fantasy characters and imagery,
is cleansed, and she emerges a woman, an emergence marked by an act of selfless
generosity (Callaway 1868, 181–216). In “Untombi-yaphansi,” a living girl is brought
into metaphorical relationship with a fantasy character, as the girl’s agonizing, but
ultimately triumphant, movement into womanhood is signaled and revealed by the antics
of the imaginary character in the realm of fantasy (Callaway 1868, 296–316).
References
Biesele, Marguerite Anne. 1975. Folklore and Ritual of !Kung Hunter Gatherers. Ph.D.
dissertation, Harvard University.
Bleek, Wilhelm Heinrich Immanuel, and Lucy C.Lloyd. 1911. Specimens of Bushman Folklore.
London: George Allen.
Bokako, Edison M. Bo-Santagane, An Anthology of Tswana Heroic Verse. Unpublished
manuscript, University of Cape Town Library.
Bourhill, E.J., and J.B.Drake. 1908. Fairy Tales from South Africa. London: Macmillan.
Callaway, Henry. 1868. Nursery Tales, Traditions, and Histories of the Zulus. Springvale, Natal:
John A.Blair.
——. 1880. A Fragment Illustrative of Religious Ideas among the Kafirs. Folk-Lore Journal (South
Africa) 2, no. 4:56–60.
——. 1913. The Religious System of the Amazulu. Mariannhill: Mariannhill Mission Press.
Casalis, Eugene. 1859. Les Bassoutos ou vingt-trois années d'études et d’observation au sud de
l’Afrique. Paris: C.Meyrueis.
Cook, P.A.W. 1931. History and Izibongo of the Swazi Chiefs. Bantu Studies, 5:181–201.
Curtis, Susheela. 1975. Maimaine, Tswana Tales. Gaborone: Botswana Book Centre.
Damane, M., and P.B.Sanders, eds. 1974. Lithoko, Sotho Praise-Poems. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Ellenberger, Vivian. 1937–38. Di Rebaroba Matlhakola—Tsa Ga Masodi—a-mphela. Transactions
of the Royal Society of South Africa, 25:1–41.
Engelbrecht, J.A. 1930. Swazi Texts with Notes. Annals of the University of Stellenbosch, 8, sec. B,
no. 2.
Fell, J.R. Ingano Zya Batonga e Zimpangaliko Zimwi, Folk Tales of the Batonga and Other
Sayings. London: Holborn.
Grant, E.W. 1927–1929. The Izibongo of the Zulu Chiefs. Bantu Studies, 3:201–244.
Groenewald, H.C., and Staupitz Makopo. 1992. Urban Folklore—The Political Song. South African
Journal of African Languages 12, no. 4:131–138.
Gunner, Liz, and Mafika Gwala. 1991. Musho! Zulu Popular Praises. East Lansing: Michigan State
University Press.
Jacottet, Edouard. 1908. The Treasury of Basuto Lore. London: Kegan Paul.
Jones, Daniel, and Solomon Tshekisho Plaatje. 1916. A Sechuana Reader. London: University of
London Press.
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Jones, A.M., and Hazel Carter. 1967. The Style of a Tonga Historical Narrative. African Language
Studies, 8:103–126.
Jordan, A.C. 1973a. Tales from Southern Africa. Berkeley: University of California Press.
——. 1973b. Towards an African Literature: The Emergence of Literary Form in Xhosa. Berkeley:
University of California Press.
Junod, Henri Philippe. 1936. Vutlhari bya Vatsonga (Machangana), The Wisdom of TsongaShangana People. Braamfontein: Sasavona.
Kuper, Hilda. 1978. Sobhuza II, Ngwenyama and King of Swaziland. London: Gerald Duckworth.
Lamplough, R.W. 1968. Matabele Folk Tales. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Lekgothoane, S.K. 1938. “Praises of Animals in Northern Sotho.” Bantu Studies 7:189–213.
Lestrade, Gerard Paul. 1949. Some Venda Folk-tales. Lovedale: Lovedale Press.
Lewis-Williams, and James David. 1981. Believing and Seeing: Symbolic Meanings in Southern
San Rock Paintings. London: Academic Press.
——. 1982. The Economic and Social Context of Southern San Rock Art. Current Anthropology,
23, no. 4:429–449.
Mafeje, Archie. 1967. The Role of a Bard in a Contemporary African Community. Journal of a
African Languages. 4, no. 3: 193–223.
Matsebula, J.S.M. 1948. Izakhiwo zamaSwazi. Johannesburg: Afrikaanse Pers-Poekhandel.
Moloto, Ernest Sedumeli. 1970. The Growth and Tendencies of Tswana Poetry. D.Litt. and D.Phil,
dissertation, University of South Africa, Pretoria.
——. 1942. Inzuzo. Johannesburg: Witwatersrand University Press.
Mqhayi, Samuel Edward Krune. 1931. Ityala lamawele. Lovedale: Lovedale Press.
Ndawo, H.M. 1928. Izibongo zenkosi zamaHlubi nezamaBhaca. Mariannhill: Mariannhill Mission
Press.
Norton, W.A. 1922a. Sesuto Praises of the Chiefs. South African Journal of Science, 18:441–453.
——. 1922b. Sesuto and Sechwana Praises. Transactions of the Royal Society of South Africa,
10:253–266.
Nyembezi, C.L.Sibusiso. 1954. Zulu Proverbs. Johannesburg: Witwatersrand University Press.
Opland, Jeff. 1983. Xhosa Oral Poetry. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press.
Orpen, J.M. 1919. A Glimpse into the Mythology of the Maluti Bushmen. Folk-lore, 30:139–156.
Pelling, J.N. 1977. Ndebele Proverbs and Other Sayings. Gwelo: Mambo Press.
Rhodesia Literature Bureau. 1969. Kusile Mbongi wohlanga. Salisbury: Rhodesia Literature
Bureau.
Rubusana, W.B. 1911. Zemk’ Inkomo Magwalandini. London: Butler and Tanner.
Savory, Phyllis. 1962. Matabele Fireside Tales. Cape Town: H. Timmins.
Schapera, Isaac. 1965. Praise-poems of Tswana Chiefs. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Scheub, Harold. 1975. The Xhosa Ntsomi. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
——. 1986–1987. “Oral Poetry and History.” New Literary History, 18:477–496.
——. 1996. The Tongue Is Fire: South African Storytellers and Apartheid. Madison: University of
Wisconsin Press.
Segoete, Everitt Lechesa. 1913. Raphepheng (Father of the Scorpion). Morija: Sesuto Book Depot.
Sekese, Azariele M. 1931. Mekhoa Le Maele a Ba-Sotho (Customs and Proverbs of the Sotho).
Morija: Sesuto Book Depot.
Soga, John Henderson. 1931. The Ama-Xosa: Life and Customs. Lovedale, South Africa: Lovedale
Press.
Stayt, Hugh Arthur. 1931. The Bavenda. London: H. Milford.
Stephens, Jean B. 1971. “Tales of the Gwikwe Bushmen.” M.A. Thesis, Goddard College.
Stuart, James. 1924a. uBaxoxele. London: Longmans, Green.
——. 1924b. uHlangakula. London: Longmans, Green.
——. 1925. uKulumetule. London: Longmans, Green.
——. 1926. uVusezakiti. London: Longmans, Green.
——. 1929. uTulasizwe. London: Longmans, Green.
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Theal, George McCall. 1882. Kaffir Folklore. London: W. Swan Sonnenschein.
Torrend, J. 1910. Likenesses of Moses’ Story in the Central African Folk-Lore. Anthropos, 5:54–
70.
Trask, Willard R. 1966. The Unwritten Song. New York: Macmillan.
Van Warmelo, N.J., ed. 1940. The Copper Miners of Musina and the Early History of the
Zoutpansberg. Pretoria: Government Printer.
Vilakazi, Benedict Vilakazi. 1937. “Conception and Development of Poetry in Zulu.” M.A. thesis.
University of the Witwatersrand.
Vinnicombe, Patricia. 1976. People of the Eland. Pietermaritzburg: University of Natal Press.
Wessmann, R. 1908. The Bawenda of the Spelonken (Transvaal). London: African World.
Yali-Manisi, D.P. 1982. Izibongo zeenkosi zamaXhosa. Lovedale, South Africa: Lovedale Press.
Zenani, Nongenile Masithathu. 1992. The World and the Word. Madison: University of Wisconsin
Press.
HAROLD SCHEUB
See also Callaway, Bishop Henny; Oral Traditions; Praise Poetry; South Africa
SOUTHERN AFRICA:
CONTEMPORARY FORMS OF
FOLKLORE
The debate surrounding oral literature in South Africa is a vibrant one. The new political
order has introduced a renewed pride in what it is to be African, and there has been a
revival in the status and role of oral literature. This form of literature is taking its rightful
place alongside written literature and is now being taught at schools and universities.
Furthermore, it is also being used in innovative ways to teach people about national
issues such as AIDS, agriculture, and family planning. The didactic nature of this
material is ensuring its recognition in the new educational structures in South Africa. But
if the traditional verbal arts are to serve any long-term useful purpose, then they must be
taught and recognized as dynamic, living traditions that have much to offer.
Oral literature in South Africa finds itself at the center of the debate addressing the
questions, “What is literature?” and “How is it to be taught?” The orality-literacy debate
and the relevance of the oral word alongside the written word are the focus of much
discussion worldwide. David Coplan talks of extending terms such as orature and oral
literature to “auriture,” which encapsulates not only the oral and the written, but the aural
as well (1994, 8). In a similar way, Elizabeth Gunner (1989) discusses the mixing of
genres in terms of the orality-literacy debate. The crux of the matter is that these debates
impact on the definition of oral literature in South Africa, and whether it is in fact
necessary to classify and define it in the first place.
Earlier scholars, such as G.P.Lestrade (1959), who are recognized as pioneers in the
classification of oral literature generally outline three separate areas of oral literature in
southern Africa: folktales, wisdom-lore, such as riddles and idioms, and oral poetry.
These traditional genres are explored further in Russell Kaschula’s Foundations in
Southern African Oral Literature (1993), but this volume also cautions against a
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prescriptive approach: “It may be necessary not only to reclassify aspects of oral
traditions (and not to be prescriptive in this regard) but also to redefine certain of these
aspects” (Kaschula 1993, viii). But it should be remembered that definitions (even
contemporary ones) may in themselves become prescriptive. In any event, a more liberal
and liberated approach to the study of African oral literature is required.
It is important to note that poetry, folktales, and wisdom-lore should not be seen as
hard and fast “categories” of oral literature. For example, a novel may contain a folktale,
and contemporary trade-union poetry may involve song,, dance, and music (Gunner
1989, 49). A more flexible approach is therefore required when viewing contemporary
oral literature in South Africa.
All of this should be seen against the backdrop of the commercialization of spoken art
forms in South Africa. This is one of the most important factors influencing the
development of oral literature in South Africa today, whether it be the making of wood
carvings for the tourist market or the release of an Mzwakhe Mbuli oral poetry and song
compact disc.
In terms of contemporary oral forms, it would seem that there are three areas of
prominence in South Africa. These are contemporary stories (including the Internet and
television), entrepreneurial oral art, and oral poetry (forms such as riddles, idioms, and
proverbs are now generally regarded as less prominent). The underlying link between the
three is that they all have commercial value.
Contemporary Stories
The urban legends dealing with the South African elections compiled by Arthur
Goldstuck in 1994 is perhaps the most important recent example of contemporary oral
literature. It is a collection of stories told (and sometimes believed) around the time of the
1994 South African elections. Perhaps the most famous tale is the “Ink in the Porridge.”
In this legend, Major-General Bantu Holomisa (then leader of the old Transkei
homeland) told his mainly Xhosa-speaking audience that the National Party offered
porridge (pap) laced with ink to black voters. The intent was that the ink would show up
under the ultraviolet lamps on election day, and black people who consumed it would
then be disqualified from voting for the African National Congress (the main opposition
to the National Party).
Another example of an urban legend that nearly destroyed the South African citrus
industry concerned the AIDS virus. Rumors flew in the cities that oranges had been
infected with HIV-positive blood by the Afrikaanse Weerstands Beweeging (AWB), a
conservative right-wing organization. This story quickly spiraled out of control and
instantly became a national legend with many variations.
The art of storytelling is therefore alive and well in South Africa. Legends are told in
English, Xhosa, Afrikaans, Zulu, and Sotho—indeed, in all of the languages of South
Africa. What seems significant is that these legends are fueled by modern-day
technology, namely television and the Internet. Afrikaans comedy television programs,
such as Spies and Plesie (which aired in the 1980s), are examples of contemporary
Afrikaans narratives, drawing largely on Afrikaans oral stories and traditions. Likewise,
Gcina Mhlophe’s televised Xhosa stories keep the tradition of folktales alive. Again the
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message is clear: oral art represents a thread by which humanity is bound, and its
development can be influenced by a number of factors. In Arthur Golds tuck’s words, “A
large proportion of the material I collected would not have reached me were it not for the
Internet” (Goldstuck 1993, x1). The real question is: To what extent does this secondary
orality (written book) experience become an oral one? (Ong, 1982:68). The existence of a
postsecondary orality via, for example, the Internet now becomes an issue. The
Goldstuck collection proves the three-way dialectic between orality (the telling of
stories), technology (the Internet) and the written word (his book).
Another important development in the folktale tradition in South Africa is the
reinterpretation of both modern and traditional tales in order to comment on the role of
women in society. The tales are told in such a way that they show the oppression of
women. In this regard, Neethling comments as follows on a well-known Xhosa folktale:
“A dog, which is a low-status animal in Xhosa society, becomes a symbol of male
dominance when he satiates his sexual appetite by raping the luckless victim, a young
girl. The narration represents a distinctly feminist outcry and protest against forced sexual
relationships.” Therefore, folktales have a lot to offer when interpreting the sociological
point of view.
Entrepreneurial Folklore
One of the generally accepted definitions of folklore is that it is something that is handed
down from one generation to another by word of mouth. Arguably then, the modern
artwork that is sold at craft markets also falls into the category of folklore. An example of
this is wirework. Wire baskets, wire flowerpot holders, wire candlestick holders, and
other wire products are sold at these informal markets, which have become extremely
popular in South Africa. Most of the people involved in this craft gained their knowledge
of wirework as children, as they grew up making wire toys, such as car replicas. This art
form has been passed down from generation to generation, just as traditional oral forms
of folklore are transmitted. In this process, the art form has been commercialized, and it
now forms an integral part of South Africa’s emerging entrepreneurial market.
There are many other examples of contemporary entrepreneurial folk arts that have
blossomed since the 1994 elections, including beadwork (in which the new colors of the
South Afri-can flag are featured very prominently) and wood carving. This is an area in
need of research, however.
Contemporary Oral Poetry
Oral poetry represents the richest and most fertile area of contemporary oral literature in
southern Africa. David Coplan (1994) shows how Basotho migrant workers who work on
South Africa’s gold mines have adapted this art form to reflect the hardships and
challenges they face as migrants. Likewise, Elizabeth Gunner (1989) has shown how
Zulu izibongo (oral poetry) has been used within the Congress of South African Trade
Unions in order to educate workers about their rights and other matters. She provides the
example of Alfred Qabula, a poet based in Durban, who began performing oral poetry in
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the 1980s. In one instance Qabula refers to the trade union as: “a hen with wide wings
which protects its chickens” (Gunner 1989).
This tradition is also particularly vibrant among the Xhosaspeaking people. Izibongo is
performed at most important occasions and gatherings, whether they are cultural,
religious, political, or educational—the four contemporary pillars of power in Xhosa
society. It is also clear that the imbongi (oral poet) has kept pace with shifts in power. For
example, from a political point of view, as power gravitated away from traditional chiefs
to new leaders within the Congress of South African Trade Unions and the African
National Congress, the iimbongi (plural form of imbongi) shifted their focus to the new
leaders. This direct link between the imbongi and power, as well as the ability of
iimbongi to adapt to these new power bases, has ensured their survival within South
African society.
The adaptability of oral tradition is not a new phenomenon, but it has been reinforced
by recent shifts in political power in South Africa. For example, by 1827, Ntsikana, a
Xhosa oral poet, was converted to Christianity and used the tradition to praise God in the
same way as he would have formerly praised the chief (Kaschula 1995). Among the Zulu
people the same type of figure emerged about forty years later when Isaiah Shembe
began producing hymns in the traditional poetic style. The dynamic nature of this form of
literature is therefore not new, and it allows for this form of “auriture” to feed on and
mould itself within present-day happenings. Iimbongi can be heard at the openings of
new schools, circumcision ceremonies, graduations, political gatherings, funerals, and
weddings—indeed, they permeate the lives of South Africans at just about every level.
Bongani Sitole, an imbongi living in the Eastern Cape, recently referred to Nelson
Mandela as: Yinkunz’ ethi yakugquba kulal’ amatye (A bull that kicks up dust and
stones).
This is a recurring image in his poetry about Mandela, as well as about the late Joe
Slovo (the former leader of the South African Communist Party and Minister of Housing
in Mandela’s cabinet).
Conclusion
In this short synopsis of contemporary forms of South African folklore an attempt has
been made to contextualize the work within two areas: the orality-literacy debate and the
commercialization of folk art, spoken and otherwise. If one views South African oral
literature against this backdrop, one finds that the tradition is alive and well. While some
aspects of the oral tradi tion are no longer emphasized (such as riddles), the capability of
oral literature, or “auriture,” to adapt to new power bases and societal change is ensured
by its relevance within what one could call South Africa’s complex postprimary,
presecondary, and secondary oral society (Ong, 1982).
References
Coplan, David. 1994. In the Time of Cannibals: The Word Music of South Africa’s Basotho
Migrants. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
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Goldstuck, Arthur. 1994. Ink in the Porridge: Urban Legends of the South African Elections.
Johannesburg: Penguin.
Gunner, Elizabeth. 1989. Orality and Literacy: Dialogue and Silence. In Discourse and Its
Disguises. Eds. Karin Barber and P. F.de Moraes Farias. Birmingham, England: Centre for West
African Studies, University of Birmingham.
Kaschula, Russell H. 1993. Foundations in Southern African Oral Literature. Johannesburg:
Witwatersrand University Press.
——. 1993. Preachers and Poets: Oral Poetry Within the Religious Cosmology of the Xhosa. South
African Journal of African Languages, 15, no. 2:65–73.
Lestrade, G.P. 1935. Bantu Praise Poems. The Critic, A South African Quarterly Journal, 4:1–10.
Neethling, S.J. 1991. Eating Forbidden Fruit in a Xhosa Oral Narrative. South African Journal of
African Languages, 11, no.1: 83–87.
Ong, Walter. 1982. Orality and Literacy: The Technologizing of the Word. London: Methuen.
RUSSELL H.KASCHULA
See also Electronic Media and Oral Traditions; Popular Culture; Praise Poetry;
Radio and Television Dramas
SOUTHERN AFRICA: SHONA
FOLKLORE
The Shona, defined as a distinct southeast African ethnicity, are a modern invention of
postcolonial nationalism based on their common language, ChiShona. This is a Bantu
language subdivision first utilized by the South African linguist Clement Doke in 1931 to
consolidate and unify the diverse collection of dialects spoken within what was then
known as Rhodesia. ChiShona, however, is not a singular or uniform language, but is
instead an amalgamation of mutually intelligible dialects, which include six dominant
groups: Kalanga, Karanga, Zezuru, Ndau, Kore-kore, and the Manyika.
Geographically, the majority of ChiShona speakers reside within the national republic
of Zimbabwe and the northwestern region of Mozambique. However, there are also a
number of isolated scattered segments in South Africa, Malawi, Botswana, and Zambia.
Although the label of Shona ethnicity was politically imposed, the Shona do, in fact,
constitute a unique cultural cluster of common social traditions, norms, practices, values,
and beliefs. The Shona are primarily subsistence farmers whose kinship structure is
characterized by localized patrilineages and exogamous clans (matobos). Descent,
inheritance, and succession are patrilineal, while the administration of villages, wards,
and chiefdoms are often hereditary positions. Shona traditional culture, which is in fast
decline, was first noted for its superior ironwork, pottery, and musicianship. Shona
religion and cos-mology are rooted in the belief in a creator/God (Mwari) and the practice
of propitiation of ancestral, tribal, and other spirits to ensure good health, rain, and
success in business. Finally, a belief in magic, witchcraft, and sorcery continues to play
an important role in everyday life, despite rigorous efforts to eradicate it by Christian
missions and elementary education.
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Those seminal studies that are germane to the study of Shona folklore include
Hamutyinei and Plangger’s (1987) comprehensive collection of Shona proverbs; Paul
Berliner’s (1978) study on Shona musical traditions; David Beach’s (1980, 1990, 1994)
thorough analysis of Shona oral literature, through which he reconstructs the prehistoric
past of Zimbabwe’s Shona and their neighbors; H.Ellert’s (1984) extensive study on
Zimbabwe’s material culture; M.F.C.Bourdillion’s classic ethnographic survey of the
contemporary Shona (1976), their changing society (1993), and religion (1990); and
Michael Gelfand’s extensive studies on Shona customs and traditions (1979, 1973),
affinity (1981), system of health and healing (1944), ritual (1959), medicine and magic
(1962), ethics, religion, and spiritual beliefs (1968, 1964, 1977), traditional healers
(1964), witchcraft (1967), and ethnopharmacopeia (1985).
In general, Shona folklore materials and traditions are primarily verbal, musical,
visual, three-dimensional, and perceptual in form and content. However, for the purpose
of this summary, Shona folklore can be reduced into the three broad genres: oral
literature, material culture, and customs and traditions.
Shona Oral Literature
The majority of Shona folklore scholarship has focused on the study of Shona oral
literature, which is divided into the three large groupings of narratives, speech, and song.
Shona folk narratives include the generic subcategories of nhango (prose narratives),
madetembedzo (praise poetry), tsumo-shumo (proverbs), and chirahwe (riddles). Mango
can be further subdivided into ngano (folktales), nyaya (myths and urban legends),
magamba (legends), and makuhwa (tall tales). Rungano (the plural form of ngano) were
traditionally told by the older members of society as a form of evening entertainment and
instruction for children about Shona beliefs and customs. They focus on the everyday
practices of common social personalities, such as mhizha (craftsman), the n’anga
(traditional healer), and the mambo (chief). There are three basic types of ngano: the
story with a song, the story punctuated by interjections, and the straight narrative, with
the first and second types requiring the active participation of the audience to collaborate
with the sarungano (storyteller). Rungano that call for interjections from the audience
often have a mushauri (leader) to motivate and guide the vadaviri (chorus).
Madetembedzo (praise poems) are particular to a clan or subclan, which are typically
identified by specific totem. Madetembedzo are performed at specific social gatherings,
such as a bira (ritual feast to propitiate ancestral spirits), wedding, or funeral, or less
formal gatherings such as the celebration of a successful hunt or family accomplishment.
Detembo (praise) are described as being mostly praise with subtle criticism. Those
individuals responsible for performing the madetembedzo are called musvitsi or
mudetembe, and are traditionally the most senior wives of a clan. Likewise, the sons of a
daughter of that particular clan are also responsible for learning and performing the
madetembedzo. In addition to totemic praise poetry there is also ndyaringo, the poetry of
admiration or for lovers, performed at courtship rituals such as the formal exchange of
the labolla (bride price). Finally, Zimbabwe has a national praise poem, called the
Mupiro, which is performed at national celebrations by either a mhondoro (the region’s
guardian spirit) or svikiro (tribal spirit medium).
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Tsumo-shumo (“sense” or “wisdom” accepted by all, as in proverbs), similes, and
idioms are sometimes referred to as zvirungwnutauro (utterances that add salt to speech),
and are highly regarded speech acts in Shona society. Their authoritative power emanates
from the supposition that they are the views and opinions of the ancestors, which is also
emphasized through the formulaic introduction “Vakuru vakati…” (as the elders say…).
Proverbs were traditionally used to inculcate Shona customary law and rules of conduct,
and even though they can be utilized in everyday speech, they continue to be employed
within jural or educational contexts. Structurally, tsumo-shumo have two distinct, or
parallel components, with a pragmatic emphasis on the independent use of the first part
as a truncated proverb.
Riddles are called chirahwe in Zezuro, while in Karanga they are chirabwe, and in
Manyika and Korekore they are called chipari and chirapi, respectively. Chirahwe are
not interrogative in form, but appear more commonly as declaratives. In the past,
Chirahwe were also used as a form of evening entertainment for children in between
ngano sessions. They are no longer considered children’s entertainment and can now be
commonly found in songs, poetry, narrative, and coded messages of adults.
In addition, under the rubric of Shona oral literature, there is a distinct genre of Shona
folk speech called “Deep Shona,” which is the ritualistic coded language used during the
Shona spirit-medium divination. Deep Shona is different from divination poetry, which is
an amalgam of archaic Shona lexicons and related Bantu contact or loan words that are
“not readily intelligible” (Bourdillion 1991, 236).
Songs, like riddles, are used as an important method of teaching children about
culture, society, and group identity. The most common form of song within oral literature
is the nzio dzokupunza, the category of songs that conclude a storytelling session (Hannan
1954). Another important subcategory of song is kudeketera, which Paul Berliner
describes as the sung poetry that occurs with mbira (thumb piano) music. Berliner
identified three distinct and mutually inclusive types of kudeketera: the fixedline, the
narrative, and the mosaic. The fixed line type has a core set of lyrics that are repeated
throughout the composition, while the narrative type is a “long and involved, rapidly
sung, storytelling style” that adheres to more conventional composition strategies (1978,
162). Finally, the mosaic style is an improvisational style of sung poetry, which can
include proverbs, praise poems, and oral history.
Material Culture
Shona material culture encompasses all physical objects produced in traditional ways,
which embody the broad categories of folk architecture, folk arts and crafts, and
foodways. Shona folk architecture is a symbolic spatial representation of Shona culture
and society. The traditional circular or womb-like building design corresponds with the
importance the Shona attribute to procreation in maintaining the growth and development
of the lineage. Within the musha (rural home compound) are other symbolic spaces
segmented by gender, such as the dare, which is an exclusively male social space, or the
chikhova, a display shelf for a woman’s pots (which are a sacred representation of
woman/motherhood).
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Studies of Shona folk art today focus primarily on modern stone sculpture and
paintings, overlooking the important production of folk crafts. Shona artistic genius was
traditionally expressed through other mediums, such as metal, wood, textiles, and
clayware. Precolonial textiles included gudza (bark fiber) cloth, reed mats, basketwork,
pipe production, pottery, and ceramics. Shona wooden crafts included secular wooden
products such as combs, jewelry, and other forms of body ornamentation. In addition,
there are certain sacred objects such as the mutsago (headrest), hakata (divining
implements), doors, walking sticks, and ritual weapons (bows and arrows). Traditional
metal crafts included basic farming tools and implements. Musical instruments in both
the past and present include the mbira, marimba (xylophone), mahlwayi (leg rattles), and
goma (drums). These instruments constitute an important part of Shona material culture.
Finally, Shona foodways, which are traditions shared by other southeastern Bantuspeaking people, include the traditional processes of brewing of hwahwa or doro
(traditional millet beer) and the inhalation of snuff. This finely grained tobacco is used to
enhance spirit possession, as a commodity exchanged as a gift in the labola (bride wealth
payment), or as a ritual offering to appease angry spirits.
Shona Customs And Traditions
Between oral and material folklore is a middle ground filled by custom, ritual, festival,
children’s games, folk drama, rites of passage, folk dances, and all other genres involving
action, performance, and paraphernalia. Shona musical traditions are an extension of the
Shona culture, folklore, wisdom, and spirituality. The mbira (thumb piano) is an essential
element in Shona folk music and spirituality.
Paul Berliner’s survey, The Soul of the Mbira: Music Traditions of the Shona People
of Zimbabwe (1981), is the most complete ethnomusicological study of the Shona.
Berliner illuminates the dynamics of the socioreligious context, function, and aesthetic
qualities of the mbira instrument and its use in religious and secular performance.
Included under the rubric of folk customs are traditional systems of health and healing.
Un’anga is a loosely linked set of beliefs, practices, and institutions that pertain to the
Shona cultural domain of health and healing. Shona therapeutics are an integral part of
politics, kinship relations, religion, trade, farming, and sexual life, and they reflect not
only Shona beliefs and values but also serve to illuminate power relations related to
illness and the management of misfortune. The Shona traditional healer (n’anga) is not
only a medical practitioner but also “a religious consultant, a legal and political adviser, a
police detective, a marriage counselor, and a social worker” (Chavunduka 1978, 19). In
recent history, the n’anga has also played the role of nationalist hero, activist, and
revolutionary.
Un ’anga is a binary system of disease etiology that attributes the cause of disease or
misfortune to either nature or human or superhuman agency. Metaphorically, Shona
health is maintained through a balance of coolness and purity. The Shona have three
basic dichotomies of illness etiology: (1) natural versus supernatural; (2) normal versus
abnormal; and (3) African versus foreign. Natural/normal/African illnesses (such as
colds, coughs, slight fevers, stomachaches or headaches) are generally regarded as
normal because they occur from time to time in everyone’s life and appear and disappear
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according to expected lengths of time. In contrast, abnormal illness is primarily
determined by its lack of responses to treatment or to its unusual lengthy duration.
Abnormal, supernatural, or foreign illnesses are believed to be caused by the following
supernatural forces: vadzimu (familiar ancestor spirits), mhondoro (clan or tribal spirits),
ngozi (angered spirits), mashave (alien spirits), or muroyi (witches). These illness are
only treatable through traditional therapeutics.
There are five different types of n’anga: a diviner, a divinermedium, a herbalist, an
injectionist, and a midwife. The primary methods of diagnosis for the n’anga is spirit
possession and divination, and traditional therapeutic treatments include the proscription
of herbal medicines, incisions (nyora), inhalation of steam or smoke, sucking (murimiko),
and transference. Healing knowledge and spiritual authority emanates from the n’anga’s
custodianship of an inherent healing spirit derived from either a mudzimu (a deceased
healer in the family) or a shave (an alien spirit).
Shona Popular Culture
Contemporary Shona folklore has been modified through tourism and global
commodification. Chimerenga music and Shona stone sculpture are two forms of
contemporary Shona folklore that blur the contested boundaries of popular culture and
folklorisms. Thomas Mapfumo, one of Zimbabwe’s most prominent musicians, first
coined the phrase Chimurenga music to describe his revolutionary music, which evolved
during Zimbabwe’s struggle to gain independence in the early seventies.
The roots of Mapfumo’s musical style are in the traditional Shona mbira music, which
is juxtaposed with modern electric instrumentation. Chimurenga music gained national
and international acclaim as the primary vehicle for the artistic expression of the political
sentiments of a nation fighting for its self-determination. Mapfumo’s Chimerenga music,
which is characterized by sharp social and political commentary, has become
synonymous with the struggle for human rights, political dignity, and social justice.
For thirty years, Shona stone sculpture has been perceived as a modern artistic
tradition with an imagined mythicalized historical past (Zilberg 1995), as a revival of the
superior stone work found at the Great Zimbabwe ruins (McEwen 1972, 1991). As a
result of a debate over authenticity, art critiques have unfairly dismissed it as an invented
tradition, and therefore unworthy of serious aesthetic analysis (Umbani 1992; Chikove
1990). Although Shona stone sculpture is argued to be firmly located within a modernist
discourse, its content and form are informed by traditional spiritual beliefs, myths,
legends, oral history, customs, and rituals, which impart a new function and modernist
aesthetic for creative expression in stone (Winter-Irving 1993, 15–16).
References
Beach, D.N. 1994a. The Shona and Their Neighbors. Oxford: Blackwell.
——. 1994b. A Zimbabwean Past: Shona Dynastic Histories and Oral Traditions. Gweru,
Zimbabwe: Mambo Press.
Berliner, Paul F. 1978. The Soul of Mbira: Music Traditions of the Shona People of Zimbabwe.
Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
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Bourdillon, M.F.C. 1976. The Shona Peoples: An Ethnography of the Contemporary Shona, with
Special Reference to their Religion. Gwelo: Mambo Press.
Chavuduka, G.L. 1978. Traditional Healers and the Shona Patient. Gwelo: Mambo Press.
Chikove, Syne. 1990. Distortions of Shona Sculpture. The Artist, 1, no. 6:3–5.
Fortune, G. 1980. Ngano. Salisburg, Zimbabwe: Mercury Press.
Gelfand, Michael. 1944. Sick African, A Clinical Study. Cape Town: Post-Graduate Press.
——. 1956. Medicine and Magic of the Mashona. Cape Town: Juta.
——. 1959. Shona Ritual. Cape Town: Juta.
——. 1961. Northern Rhodesia in the Days of the Charter: Medical and Social Study. Oxford:
Blackwell.
——. 1962. Shona Religion. Cape Town: Juta.
——. 1964. Witch Doctor: Traditional Medicine Man of Rhodesia. London: Harvill.
——. 1965. African Background: Traditional Culture of the Shona-speaking People. Cape Town:
Juta.
——. 1967. The African Witch; with Particular Reference to Witchcraft Beliefs and Practice
among the Shona of Rhodesia. Edinburgh: Livingstone.
Gelfand, Michael, et al. 1985. The Traditional Medical Practitioner in Zimbabwe: His Principles of
Practice and Pharmacopoeia. Gweru: Mambo Press.
Hodza, A.C. 1987. Ngano, dzamatambidzanwa. Gweru, Zimbabwe: Mambo Press.
Hamutyinei, M.A., and A.B.Plangger. 1987. Tsumo-Shumo: Shona Proverbial Lore and Wisdom.,
Gweru, Zimbabwe: Mambo Press.
Limbani, Ester. 1992. Shona Sculpture vs. Airport Art: Which way Zimbabwe? Africa Calls
October: 7–8.
McEwen, Frank. 1972. Shona Art Today. African Arts 1, no. 2:8–11.
——. 1991. Rebirth of an Art. In Zimbabwe Shona Sculpture: Spirit in Stone. Exhibition catalog
34.
Winter-Irving, Celia. 1993. Contemporary Stone Sculpture in Zimbabwe: Context, Content, and
Form. Harare: Craftsman House.
Zilberg, Jonathan. 1995. Shona Sculpture’s Struggle for Authenticity and Value. Museum
Anthropology 19, no. 1:3–24.
TONYA TAYLOR
See also Popular Culture; Praise Poetry; Proverbs; South Africa
SPEAKING AND NONSPEAKING
POWER OBJECTS OF THE SENUFO
The Senufo of West Africa are comprised of thirty subgroups, distinguished by dialects,
customs, and geographical location, with each subgroup identifying itself by a different
name. Therefore, one cannot speak of the Senufo as a monolithic people with the same
art, traditions, and lifestyles. In Burkina Faso, there are nine Senufo subgroups, which
reside in the southwest part of the country. They do not have centralized political
structures, but they have a social organization based on family heads, a council of elders,
and leaders of secret societies.
The Tagwa-Senufo, who number nearly 30,000, occupy the Tagwara plateau in the
Koloko prefecture, about 68 miles northwest of Bobo Dioulasso in Burkina Faso. They
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are divided into clans and specialized occupational groups. The farmers, by far the largest
group, are the village founders and leaders of religious institutions. Blacksmiths, called
Toutoun or Noumou, are both ironworkers and woodcarvers, while their spouses are
basket makers. The Tagwa-Senufo do not have the male initiation system, known as
Poro, that is generally associated with Senufo people. Instead, the Tagwa have Komo, a
male secret association, usually seen as distinctly Bambara (a neighboring ethnic group).
Cosmology
The Tagwa use two types of power objects: the “nonspeaking” power objects and the
“speaking” power objects. All power objects that do not “speak” directly to people and
need the interpretation of a diviner or a priest are nonspeaking power objects.
Nonspeaking power objects are made of different types of materials and can have
different forms, including carved wood, kitchen stone, pottery, or animal tail and skull.
Individuals, families, and the entire village possess nonspeaking power objects. They
protect the people from malevolent neighbors, evil forces, disease, and various
calamities. Individuals keep their personal power object on their person, in the front of
their house or in their bedroom. A Tagwa man’s house always has two rooms: a living
room for the visitor and the bedroom, and some men do not allow anyone, even their
wives, to go inside their bedroom without their authorization. A family power object is
kept inside the ancestors’ house and is only seen by circumcised males of the family. The
power object is the responsibility of the family head. The secrets of the objects are taught
to the young boys of the family as a part of the traditional educational system.
A village’s power object is generally located inside the limits of the village and is the
responsibility of the village’s Tarfolo (Chief of the Earth). Any person in the village can
consult the object. Its function is to protect the entire village from social calamities and
natural disasters. If it has a very good reputation, people from other villages will consult
it. Both the family and village power objects are always out of the sight of women and
children and located in places with visible signs to warn visitors in the village.
The speaking power objects “speak” directly to people through a masquerade, trances,
and divination. They are in the form of objects or masks worn by male performers who
speak to the audience in the name of the power object. The performers symbolize the
power object and are possessed by the spirits. In the Tagwara, the most well-known
speaking power objects are Wara, Kono, and Komo. All speaking spirits belong to the
families or clans and are available to circumcised men of the village after a special
initiation ceremony.
Komo Soddy
The Komo is considered to be the most fearful and dangerous of all the speaking power
objects. According to the Tagwa, the Komo was a speaking wild animal with two feet,
feathers, and a head like a buffalo. It lived in the bush. One day a hunter met this strange
animal and killed it. When he cut it open, he found in its mouth a tube of bamboo closed
at the two extremi-ties with a very fine membrane, which gave the animal a sweet voice.
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The hunter took the head of the animal and the skin full of feathers back to the village.
He built a small house and placed the head inside. One morning, a song coming from the
small house awakened the hunter. When he listened carefully, it was the same voice and
the same song that he had heard the day he killed the strange animal. When be opened the
door, he found the singing was coming from the head. The song asked him to name it
Komo and to take it to entertain the men and the women in the village. He took the head,
along with musicians, to the villagers and entertained them.
One day, women took control of the Komo and excluded all the men from the
performance. However, the men fought back, and the hunter, the owner of the Komo,
killed a chicken, put -the blood on the head, and locked it up again in the small house.
Since that day, men excluded women from being part of the Komo performance.
Komo performances take place only at night in a specified area. Generally, this
specified area is either the place in front of the house of the Komo owner or at the public
place of the village, if there is a large audience. When the masker is preparing himself
inside the Komo house, the musicians and the Komo accompanists prevent those who are
not allowed to see him by playing the Komo music. The Komo does not enter the village
before midnight. Once in the village, the Komo sings “A yi sira bila mousolou, na ma sira
bila wara na do dun” (Women, leave the path; otherwise the wild animal will eat you).
The song is a warning for women to go inside their houses while the Komo is in the
village. The Komo first greets the Komotigui, who generally is inside his house or in
front of his door. The Komo, accompanied by the Yelema, his translator, continues to
greet the oldest men and women. The Yelema responds to the songs of the Komo and
interprets them because he is the only one who understands the Komo language. Besides
the Yelema, the language is only understood by the senior initiates. The Komo masker
does not cover his face. All audience members are initiated and immediately told during
the initiation not to talk about the Komo in front of a noninitiated person.
The masker, guarding his anonymity from noninitiated persons who may recognize his
voice from their houses, holds in his month the iron tube closed to the extremities by a
spider web. The tube gives the Komo a strange voice similar to the one of the original
animal killed by the hunter. It cannot be recognized by the noninitiated, especially by the
women. The Komo has a terrifying voice that keeps women and noninitiates inside their
homes. The Komo mask is the visible symbol of the secret nature of the Komo
institution. Once the masker wears the mask, he loses his own identity and becomes the
Komo, who has authority over anyone in the village. He becomes the voice of the
ancestors and the spirits.
References
Barbier, Jean-Paul, ed. 1993. Art of Côte d’Ivoire. Geneva: Barbier-Mueller Museum.
Binger, Louis-Gustave. 1892. Du Niger au Golfe de Guinée par le pays de Kong et le Mossi. 2 vols.
Paris: Hachette.
Bochet, Gilbert. 1965. Les masques Sénoufo, de la forme a la signification. Bulletin de l’lnstitut
Fondamental d’Afrique Noire B, 27, no. 3–4:636–677.
Brett-Smith, Sarah. 1994. The Making of Bamana Sculpture: Creativity and Gender. Cambridge,
England: Cambridge University Press.
Coulibaly, Sinali. 1978. Le paysan Sénoufo. Abidjan, Cote d’Ivoire: Nouvelles Editions Africaines.
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Delafosse, Maurice. 1909. Le peuple Siéna ou Sénoufo. Revue des Etudes Ethnographiques et
Sociologiques.
Dieterlen, Germaine. 1972. Les fondements de la société d’initiation du Komo. Paris: Mouton.
Förster, Till. 1988. Die Kunst der Senufo. Zurich: Rietberg Museum.
Glaze, Anita. 1981. Art and Death in a Senufo Village. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Goldwater, Robert J. 1964. Senufo Sculpture from West Africa. New York: Museum of Primitive
Art.
Holas, Bohumil. 1957. Les Sénoufo (y compris les Minianka). Monographies Ethnologiques
Africaines. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France.
Knops, Pierre. 1980. Les anciens Sénufo (1923–1935). Berg-en-Dal: Afrika Museum.
McNaughton, Patrick. 1979. Secret Sculptures of Komo: Art and Power in Bamana (Bambara)
Initiation Associations. Working Papers in the Traditional Arts, 4. Philadelphia: Institute for the
Study of Human Issues.
Rondeau, Chantal. 1980. La société Sénoufo du sud Mali (1870–1950) de la “tradition” a la
dépendance. Paris: Université de Paris.
Zahan, Dominique. 1960. Sociétés d’initiation Bambara, le N’domo, le Koré. Paris: Mouton.
BOUREIMA TIEKORONI DIAMITANI
See also Masks and Masquerades; Silence in Expressive Behavior; Voice
Disguisers
SPIRIT POSSESSION DANCE IN
GUYANA: COMFA
Comfa is the principal ritual of a folk religious complex (also called cumfa or cumfo)
whose defining elements include ecstatic, trancelike dancing, and spirit possession,
induced by drumming. It is practiced in Guyana, South America, mainly by the
descendants of enslaved Africans. Comfa appears to have evolved from West African
sacred performances remembered and reinterpreted by enslaved Africans, as they
encountered European and Asian culture bearers in the New World. According to
sociolinguist Kean Gibson, the foremost expert on Guyanese Comfa, the religion is
currently practiced by about 10 percent of the country’s African-Guyanese population.
Guyana, formerly British Guiana, lies in the northeast corner of South America and
enjoys sociocultural, linguistic, and political as well as geographic proximity with other
Caribbean basin territories. More than any other Caribbean territory, however, Guyanese
vernacular culture and identity have been influenced by Asian and Native American and
African and European components. Contemporary Comfa cosmology and ritual reflect
the many diasporic communities to which Guyanese people claim membership, even
though Comfa is indigenously regarded as essentially African in derivation.
A Comfa dance is staged when human beings desire direct spiritual intervention in
their everyday lives. In the modern Comfa worldview, God is the Creator and the
Beginning and End of all things. He can be accessed through prayer. Living human
beings, however, dwell outside God’s domain. They exist at the center of the universe,
below a realm called Heights in which reside angels, biblical prophets, and apostles.
Below living humans is the terrestrial realm where disembodied souls (demigods) who
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are designated according to nationality make their homes in water or in graveyards.
Because these spirits have already “mastered the challenges of the natural plane of
existence …they are…in a position to advise on how to deal with everyday problems”
(Gibson 1995:164). The seven terrestrial spirit groups are African, Amerindian (Buck),
Chinese, Dutch, East Indian, English, and Spanish.
A ceremony given in honor of an English terrestrial spirit is called an English Dinner;
one given to honor a Chinese or Indian spirit is called a Chinese or an Indian Work. An
African Work shows appreciation for the earth and is therefore also referred to as Earth
Work. Celestial services that are also called “Thanks,” short for “Thanksgiving,” are
given to God’s glory and to advise Him of the participants’ wishes and desires. A
celestial service usually precedes a terrestrial Work. Neither of these categories of Comfa
dance are simply a display of gratitude to God or to the terrestrial spirits whom He
directs. The primary purpose of the dance is for a particular sponsor to make an offering
and petition to one spirit or all seven in what is called an All Nation Work for continued
assistance in the form of advice, healing, information, or the mending of a breached
relationship.
Music and dance form the core of Comfa performance. The specific type of music,
dance, as well as food, candles, water, alcoholic beverages, and clothing, all which are
also important elements of the ritual, is dictated by a stereotyped understanding of the
national identity of the terrestrial worker being invoked and by the extant purpose of the
ceremony. Drumming, especially the use of the 2-foot high cylindrical African drum
called a Comfa drum, facilitates manifestation of the spirit through the medium of the
living human, often the sponsor. Other participants may also exhibit signs of possession.
Musicians are overtly responsible for summoning and disbursing the spirit to whom the
ceremony is directed, though uninvited spirits may attend. Comfa songs, which may
include Anglican hymns, sankies or hymns of the Reform churches, traditional Guyanese
songs and popular songs, frame and pace the ceremony. Apart from the music, it is the
dancing which enables the performer/ sponsor to “move from one state of consciousness
to another” and which “communicates the dancer’s experience to the audience” (Gibson
1993, 103).
Although a critique by participants is a meaningful aspect of Comfa performance, the
success of a Comfa dance is measured by the manifestation of the spirit during the ritual
and by the tangible fulfillment of the desires expressed by the sponsor throughout and
subsequent to the ritual. These wants and needs are often material in nature and arc a
principal reason for the continued vitality of the religion in poverty-ridden postcolonial
Guyana. About 90 percent of Comfa practitioners are women to whom the religion offers
a viable alternative for attaining personal power, positive economic prospects, fellowship,
and observable solutions unmatched by governmental promises or Christian doctrine. On
the other hand, the fees of the religion’s mothers and elders as well as the demands of the
three main spirits, called entrees, to whom practitioners are beholden, can add financial
burden to individuals who are already desperately poor. Nevertheless, as recently as
1993, when Kean Gibson completed her fieldwork, the Comfa dance retained a central
role in the spiritual lives of a small but significant portion of the African-Guyanese
population.
Cultural historian Brian Moore derives the term Cumfo from the Dahomean kumfo. He
characterizes Cumfo as an affirming and subversive practice for newly emancipated
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Africans and black Creoles in late-nineteenth-century British Guiana. According to
Moore, Cumfo always consisted of a dance and often included spirit possession achieved
through invocation by a designated actor or medium. He indicates that in postcolonial
Guyana, the religious practices designated by the term Cumfo were also referred to as
Watermama in honor of the river gods or Wind (pronounced wine), in reference to the
kind of dancing that reportedly took place during these ceremonies. Moore notes the
West African tendency to view certain deities as being of or residing in water and
suggests that this religiocultural continuity “achieved further relevance and significance
to the African slaves and their descendants by virtue of the fact that rivers are so
numerous in Guyana” (1995, 138). Then as now, Cumfo sessions were generally held
“when misfortune had befallen a family or district, or when information was
required…[and] the watermama was thus normally invoked either to remove evil or to
divulge information” (1995, 139).
Historical and contemporary accounts of Comfa dance suggest that it is but one
iteration of religiocultural complex found throughout the Caribbean. For example, while
there are significant differences, the Comfa dance shares with the Jombee dance of
Montserrat central elements that include the invocation of the ancestors actuated through
drumming, dancing, and feasting for the benefit of a financially obligated sponsor who
often offers his or her body as a vessel for spiritual mediumship. Moreover, though the
principal objective of the Grenadian Shango ceremony is to induce physical and psychic
possession of worshippers by Orisha, like the Guyanese Comfa dance, it is also referred
to African Work or Thanksgiving Feast. In addition to shared terminology, anthropologist
Patrick Polk also links the origins of Shango ritual in Grenada to the worship of the
Watermama, who is mostly likely a localized version of the female Yoruba water Orisha,
Yemanja. Only further research will determine whether the similarities between these and
other folk rituals found throughout the Caribbean basin are surface manifestations of
deeply structured cultural continuities with African origins.
References
Abrams, Ovid. Guyana Metagee. Buxton: Guyana.
Dobbin, Jay. 1987. The Jombee Dance of Montserrat: A Study of Trance Ritual in the West Indies.
Columbus: Ohio State University Press.
Gibson, Kean. 1993. An African Work: The Guyanese Comfa Dance. Journal of Crib bean Studies
9:99–111.
——. 1995. An English Dinner: An African-Guyanese Religious Dance. Lore and Languages
13:163–89.
——. 1993. A Celebration of Life: Dances of the African-Guyanese. (videotape) Cinema Guild.
——. 1996. An Analogy Between the Continuums of Guyanese Creole and Guyanese Comfa.
Journal of Caribbean Studies 11:3–13.
Dobbin, Jay. 1987. The Jombee Dance of Montserrat: A Study of Trance Ritual in the West Indies.
Columbus: Ohio State University Press.
Moore, Brian. 1995. Cultural Power, Resistance and Pluralism: Colonial Guyana 1838–1900.
Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press; Barbados: The Press University of
the West Indies.
Polk, Patrick. 1993. African Religion and Christianity in Grenada. Caribbean Quarterly 39:73–81.
Smith, Raymond T. 1962. British Guiana. London and New York: Oxford University Press.
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HAYLEY S.THOMAS
See also Diaspora: Santeria in Cuba; Vodou
SPIRIT POSSESSION: KUNDA
Since at least 1831, Europeans have reported an association in central African between
lions and the spirits of deceased chiefs. The Portuguese explorer Gamitto, while passing
through the Luangwa River Valley on his way to Kazembe’s palace in Katanga in 1832,
commented on Africans in the valley being able to chase lions away from animals they
had killed and take the meat for themselves. Local Africans explained that this was
possible because the lions were really benevolent chiefs’ spirits. Gamitto also described
seeing similar practices among inhabitants of Monomotapa’s country (Zimbabwe),
including offerings being made to lions.
More difficult to document is a spirit possession cycle called Nfumpas, which enacts
the practical association between chiefs and lions. The Nfumpas spirit-possession cycle of
the Kunda (the term is a Kunda adaptation of mfumu mpashi [chief’s spirit] in
Bemba/Bisa language) in the central Luangwa River Valley may be an example of the
lion-chiefs spirit cult that was practiced over much of central Africa into the midnineteenth century. The cult presumably has dwindled with the disappearance of lions
from most areas, while it continues in the Luangwa Valley, which still has a large
population of wild animals, including lions.
Some Kunda elders explain that when dangerous lions disturb an area, it is the local
chief who is responsible for stopping them. The chief dispatches local hunters, who kill
the lion or lions and bring the carcass to the chief in a celebration generically called
malaila (calling together), which all the chief’s now-liberated inhabitants might attend.
After the presentation of the lion carcass, the elder relatives of the chief save the most
vital parts of the lion and, when possible, preserve the skin for the chief. The chief may
assume some of the power of the lion through traditional medicines made from the lion.
This process is repeated each time a lion is defeated by a chief.
Upon a chief’s death, the elder relatives of the chief may secretly place certain items
from the lion in the coffin with the chief’s body. The entrails of the chief may be replaced
by preserved lion entrails. The claws may be tied on each finger, the teeth strung round
the chief’s neck, and the tail of a lion is tied to the waist of the chief. When the chief’s
coffin is buried, the chief’s relatives make libations at the gravesite with beer, raw eggs,
and maize flour. A straw is inserted into the ground, and after some time a small grub
may be seen to exit from the grave. This grub goes off into the bush and grows into a lion
(a spirit lion). Spirit lions, who are incarnations of chiefs, are recognizable by their lightcolored faces and benevolent actions toward peo ple. Wild lions and lions sent by
witchcraft also roam the bush, but they behave with animosity toward people.
Kunda description of the Nfumpas spirit-possession cult explains that these spirit lions
sometimes need people to continue doing “jobs” for them. They are chiefs, after all, who
may want things which they cannot get on their own in the bush. When they need
something they come to certain people in dreams and apparitions and command things of
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them, such as an all-night dance at which offerings are made, applications of certain
herbal medicines in the village, or hoeing a certain plot of land. The person that the lion
spirit comes to is made to feel sick until the job is completed; symptoms usually involve
heaviness in the chest and difficulty breathing. If the person does the bidding of the lion
spirit he or she usually feels well again and acquires a special skill, such as expertise in
drumming, knowledge of medicines for healing, or extraordinary skill and strength for
hoeing in the garden. Their special skills and medicines are gifts from the lion-chief’s
spirit and are guarded in secrecy, as are many of their specialized practices. Nfumpas
spirit possession runs in families, and one cannot suffer from it unless someone in the
family did before.
It is worth noting that there are very old chiefs’ praise songs that reflect these
dangerous and beneficial relationships between lions, chiefs, spirits, and people. One
nineteenth-century Kunda praise song for the Kakumbi chiefs states:
We are so happy we are yours,
we are so happy we are yours!
We are so happy we are yours
that you can kill us and eat us,
kill us and eat us!
This is a sentiment sung to living chiefs but directed to their deceased forbears who have
assumed the shape and status of lions. It is a joyous song. The opening lines are sung in a
somber mood but give way to excitement and happiness in the closing refrain. Because
the songs are sung at occasions for dancing, their words are few, repeated in driving
rhythms to the accompaniment of drums, clapping, and rattles.
Another song associated with the Nfumpas complex deals with the preparation of
herbal medicines for healing those affected by the spirits. This song, like the Chief’s
praise song above, is a joyous one and is sung as an occasion for dancing. Its words are
also few and sung to drumming, clapping, and rattles. To fast rhythms the words are
sung:
Lay them, lay them!!
Lay down the roots, my mother!!
Lay them, lay them!!
Lay down the roots, my mother!!
References
Gamitto, A.C.P. 1960. King Kazembe and the Marave, Cheva, Bisa, Bemba, Lunda, and other
Peoples of Southern Africa, 1832, tr. Ian Cunnison. Lisbon: Junta de Investigates do Ultramar.
Marks, Stuart. 1984. The Imperial Lion: Human Dimensions of Wildlife Management in Central
Africa. Boulder, Colo.: Westview.
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Strickland, Bradford. 1995. Knowledge, Agency and Power among the Kunda of Eastern Zambia,
Ph.D. dissertation, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill.
BRADFORD STRICKLAND
See also Ancestors; Animals in African Folklore
SPIRIT POSSESSION: TUAREG AND
SONGHAY
The term possession has been applied to contexts in which humans are said to be
temporarily displaced, inhabited, or “ridden” by particular spirits in Africa, the African
diaspora (especially Brazil and the Caribbean), the Middle East, the Pacific, and
sometimes South and Southeast Asia. During these episodes, voice and agency are
attributed to the spirit rather than the host, who is not held accountable for what occurs—
and indeed may claim subsequently to have no knowledge of it, or at least no ability to
have influenced its direction. The spirits are generally conceptualized and experienced as
discrete persons, whether ancestors, foreigners, historical figures, gods, or members of an
alternate species. These persons may be viewed as more or less distinct from their hosts,
according to the particular performance tradition at issue, as well as to the stage the
relationship between an individual host and spirit has reached. In Africa, some commonly
recognized cultural forms (which may cover a broad range of local variations) of
possession include zar in northeast Africa (Lewis 1971, 1986; Boddy 1989), bori among
the Hausa of northern Nigeria and southern Niger, hauka among the Songhay of Niger
(Stoller 1989, 1992), and goumaten among the Tuareg of northern Niger (Rasmussen
1995). As in other regions of the world, terms, if not pantheons, often overlap. As Ivan
Karp has noted, a single researcher would have difficulty in reviewing the literature on
spirit possession in Africa alone (1989, 91). Presented here is a brief review of
approaches to possession, followed by two examples from the western Sahelian region:
studies of spirit possession among the Tuareg and the Songhay peoples of Niger.
Early Studies
Many earlier studies of spirit possession suffered from efforts to place possession in one
or another Western category, particularly medical, religious, or ethnopsychological. What
is important is to understand its multiple significance within the particular contexts in
which it occurs. Possession is about meaning. During the late 1900s there was a move
away from positivist, decontextualizing approaches and toward cultural interpretation
(Lambek 1981, 1993; Boddy 1989; Stoller 1989; Kramer 1993; Rasmussen 1995).
Possession intersects with numerous cultural domains, including medicine and religion,
but is itself reducible to none. Several authors remark on how spirit possession thickens
social ties. Spirit assertions of difference or identity are metastatements: coded moral and
political acts of the humans they possess, derived from thinking about one’s relationships
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to others by thinking through the “Other” writ large (Boddy 1994, 423). This point
accommodates a widening of perspective from specific spirits to their imagined worlds,
which are in various and subtle ways alien to their hosts.
To some investigators, spirit mythologies constitute reservoirs of cultural
knowledge—about illnesses and medicines, but also about ethnicity, history, domination,
social propriety, and caprice. In her 1995 study of Tuareg spirit possession, Susan
Rasmussen accents its comedic and aesthetic dimensions by comparing possession to
satirical allegory, where historical and cultural consciousness is vividly dramatized in
challenging, but also reinvigorating, the embodied, engendered, moral order. Among the
Kel Ewey Tuareg of northeastern Niger, a seminomadic, socially stratified, Islamic
people, persons undergoing spirit-possession rituals called tende n goumaten come from
diverse social strata, but are predominantly women. Local residents believe that certain
illnesses, if they persist, are caused by spirits (variously called goumaten, eljenan, or kel
essuf) passed from mother to daughter, causing a trance. A cure requires songs, jokes, and
music provided by the tende, a drum made from a mortar used to crush grain. These rites
are usually staged in the evening. They feature a drummer (generally a smith or
descendant of a slave); a female player of the asakalabo (a calabash floating in water,
struck with a cloth-covered baton); a chorus of young women from diverse social origins
who sing songs identified with possession ritual; and usually, one patient, called a gouma.
Present at all possession rituals is a large, mixed-sex audience, ranging in age from about
ten to twenty-five years. Audience, chorus, and patient evaluate the ceremony’s
effectiveness through jokes that criticize various singers for transgressions of codes of
personal conduct, as well as for shortcomings in performative competence—that is,
whether they are lazy, whether the chorus and drum drown out the solo singer, whether
too much crying and shouting overwhelm the performance, and whether singers forget
words or fail to use the “proper” Tamacheq, the language of the Tuareg. Only women
learn these songs. In their verses, there are themes of social commentary and criticism, as
well as references to past and current events and conditions in local history and culture.
Tuareg Rituals
Tuareg spirit-possession rituals are noisy public events where a degree of license is
allowed in personal conduct. At the beginning of the ceremony, the patient lies prone
beneath a blanket. As the songs and drumming quicken in pace and become rhythmically
more elaborate, the patient rises to a sitting position and begins shaking her head from
side to side, slowly at first, and then faster and more vigorously. Tuareg refer to this as
the “head dance.” Soon the motion includes the shoulders and upper torso, although the
patient never dances on her feet. Throughout the rite, she remains seated, facing the
drummer, surrounded on one side by the women’s chorus and on the other by the general
audience. In her hand, the patient grips a man’s sword, usually borrowed from a close
male relative (in everyday life, Tuareg women do not carry swords; they do, however,
inherit property in livestock and own the residential tent). She rocks upon this sword,
holding it perpendicular to the ground throughout her dance. Over her head she wears a
black face veil (also contrary to everyday practice, in which Tuareg men, not women,
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wear the face veil), and a white cloth band, attached to her veil by a female friend or
close kinswoman.
Men and women generally associate these possession rituals with women, ridicule the
few men who have undergone them as effeminate, and say women’s love and worries
cause spiritpossession attacks. Women say spirits attack them when they are “touched in
the heart” by beautiful music. Overt symptoms include refusal to eat, sleep, and speak,
and sometimes running wildly through the desert. Some women become possessed on
Islamic holidays, though the Muslim clergy oppose this rite as “anti-Islamic.” The clergy
do not, however, forbid these ceremonies and often refer women to them, though limiting
their enactment to neighborhoods far from the mosque and to times that do not coincide
with religious events. A large number of frequent patients are older women and
adolescent girls who are wives and daughters of prominent Islamic scholars.
Although Tuareg men and women alike may become possessed, men’s spirits and
women’s spirits differ: those of men respond to verses from the Quran, while those of
women require music of the tende. Thus, men’s manner of curing spirits, not their
affliction, is gender-specific. However, Rasmussen argues that female spirit possession
cannot be reduced to simple rebellion, “sex-warfare,” or compensatory behavior
(Rasmussen 1995, 86).
The dance motions of trance (associated with women) and the music of the tende
(traditionally played by persons of low social status, such as smiths and formerly servile
or client peoples—in the precolonial social order of nobles, tributaries, smith/ artisans,
and slaves) evoke key, contradictory themes in Tuareg culture. Specifically, these
conflicts are the freedom to conduct illicit affairs outside marriage (which are still
officially arranged by parents and ideally take place within one’s own social stratum),
restrictions imposed on men and women as they age, and jural ambiguities and
constraints associated with older persons’ authority roles in property ownership. As a
parent-in-law, an aging person’s conduct must ideally be reserved and dignified, with
increasing devotion to Islamic ritual and withdrawal from festivals defined as secular,
and arrangement of children’s marriages, which are ideally endogamous (within the same
some social stratum).
In their aesthetic elements, Tuareg spirit-possession rituals reveal two interrelated
themes: one concerns the possession ritual negotiation of social power and of
redefinitions of self; the other juxtaposes an individual patient’s trance solitude and the
music of the ritual. The sounds of spirit exorcism enable, not solely the possessed patient,
but also diverse participants, to find a voice by alternately reflecting and subverting social
values. Enactment of the musical cure, as well as commentary on it during and following
these rituals, in effect allows a recasting of the possession experience and, concomitantly,
becomes a lens through which social experience is analyzed and, to an extent, controlled.
Sound mediates the remoteness of the patient and the free sociability of audience,
transforming an experience normally incongruent into a state in which needs coincide
with circumstance. The possession idiom for the Tuareg encapsulates the ironies and
contradictions for persons at the margins and thresholds of life in Tuareg society, such as
adolescent girls, older women, and members of different social strata, as they freely
interact with each other and communicate directly with one another at the possession
ritual. They cannot do this so freely or openly in everyday social life. But the interplay of
aesthetic form and intention in possession cannot be reduced to conscious manipulation
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or be seen as directly causal. Rather, the enactment of possession enables commentary on
the human condition in an expressive style articulating with, rather than completely
overturning, socially structured beliefs about personal identity.
These processes are clearly shown in the ludic, or carnival, elements of the possession
ritual. The songs and other behavior during the possession rituals display the inversion
typical of “rituals of reversal.” For example, men and women of diverse social strata,
who in principle normally do not marry, may flirt with one another and initiate romantic
liaisons. Contrary to the usual value in Tuareg culture placed on concealing one’s true
desires, the patient indicates nonverbally her song preference. The head dance of a patient
who is an elderly woman presents a further inversion of normal behavioral roles, for
older women usually do not dance in public, particularly not in mixed company or at
events featuring ribald entertainment (the verses of some songs contain sexual
innuendoes and sometimes even mock official Islam). Young boys play on the sidelines,
sometimes dancing like grown men, sometimes causing considerable mischief. They
speak to adults without the usual reserved respect, often teasing them, but this behavior
provokes little reprimand during a possession ceremony. Outside the possession ritual,
there is not such openly direct expression or free social interaction between youths and
older persons, or between members of different social strata.
In the Tuareg possession ritual, there are also symbolic parallels with rites of passage,
particularly marriage. For example, at the beginning of a possession rite, the possessed
patient always appears in a prone position on the ground, with her entire body covered by
a blanket. This is also the dominant symbol at weddings, seen in the central image of the
wedding tent: for the first days of the eight-day wedding ritual the bride lies prone
beneath a blanket in her mother’s tent. During this phase of the wedding, for several
successive nights, the older female relatives of the bride take down and reconstruct the
nuptial tent, making it larger each night. This tent image is associated with both the spiritpossession ritual and rites of passage. The tension between the inversion and the
correspondence of symbols in spirit possession and the wedding rite of passage reflect
certain contradictions in Tuareg social relationships. The alternating frames of nonserious
joking and serious healing seem to parallel the frames associated with relationships over
the life course that are transformed, such as the transition from courtship (involving a
degree of sexual license and frequently illicit liaisons) to marriage (featuring behavioral
restrictions and economic obligations), as well as inlaw roles (which involve increased
reserve in relationships and participation in devotion to Islam). The transition to marriage
affects kinship behavior: the joking and horseplay of cousins become the reserve and
formality of husband and wife.
Thus, the tende n goumaten possession ritual, through its setting (which encourages
relaxing of the usual daily social restrictions) and its jokes and songs (which express
alternatively criticism and praise on social stratum, age, gender, and official religion)
provides a forum for reflection and discourse on Tuareg culture, society, and history. Its
ritual imagery not only encapsulates contradictions but also reveals compromises
between ideals and actual conditions of existence. For example, the imagery expresses a
contradiction between the local ideology of the elevated and independent status of
nobles—particularly women—and their actual position amid economic transformation
and uncertainty in contemporary social change (sedentarization and tensions with the
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central state government) and ecological crisis (recurrent droughts), both of which
threaten long-standing Tuareg beliefs, practices, and social institutions.
Therefore, during possession rites, when human and spirit realities most obviously
interpenetrate, or fuse, as Stoller (1989) suggests, cultural knowledge is momentarily
embodied, expressed indirectly via the images and antics of the alien performance, and
undoubtedly changed.
Songhay Rituals
Without denying their seriousness to participants, possession ceremonies have been
described in aesthetic terms as theater, allegory, satire, and burlesque, and as witty and
historically per-ceptive metacommentaries on the human world. Among the Songhay of
western Niger, myths constitute the charter of the spirit-possession cult: there are myths
about the origin of the various families of spirits. Each has a genealogy, with names and
ethnic origins for all the families of the Songhay pantheon. Human beings are never far
from the domain of the spirits, and the spirits often intervene in the social affairs of
human beings.
Spirit incantations take the form of praise poems in which the sorko, a bard of the
spirits, first indirectly declares his powerlessness—a kind of prostration before the spirit
world—and then sings about the great exploits of the spirits. The most important set of
praise songs is called Tooru che and is recited for the nobles of the Songhay spirit world.
Entrance into a spirit-possession cult occurs, not by personal choice, but when a person is
struck by an illness that does not respond to any kind of treatment, thus signifying that
the sickness is extraordinary, precipitated by a spirit.
Ritual elements of Songhay possession include music (especially songs), dance,
costumes, altars, stones, hatchets, antelope horns, and dolls. The Songhay state that the
godji violin or the drum carries the words. Songhay say that the sound of the godji “cries”
for all Songhay, penetrating them and making them feel the presence of the ancestors. It
is the most sacred of instruments. The sound of the godji is a tangible link between
Songhay present and past, for this wailing sound revivifies deep-seated cultural themes
about the nature of life and death, the origin of the Songhay, and the juxtaposition of the
social and spirit worlds. These themes, in turn, reinforce Songhay cultural identity.
Ritual music is a veritable support for the phrases of the praise poem. Stoller explores
the power of sound in Songhay spirit possession. The sorko, the praise-singer to the
spirits of the Songhay pantheon, is a healer in his own right: he knows the words that can
repel witches and sorcerers. The zima, or ritual priest, is the impressario and healer
associated exclusively with the Songhay possession cult. These men and women know
the words that have the force to beckon the spirits from the spirit world to the world of
social life. All these practitioners must undergo a long apprenticeship, during which they
memorize scores of ritual incantations and learn to apply these special words to the
substances they prepare for clients. A magical substance (a vine, a tree bark, a stone, or a
cowry shell) is without power unless a possession-ritual specialist has imbued it with
force.
It is clear that esthetic and performance dimensions of possession are inseparable from
its spirituality, from its capacity to reformulate identity or to heal. Since possession is
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embodied in usually public rituals, it constitutes a specific performance. Performances
may be comic or dramatic, suspenseful or joyful, and establish hierarchies or invert them.
They make use of music, dance, distinct clothing, and unusual speech patterns and body
movements. Possession, therefore, may be understood as a system of communication,
providing alternative, authoritative voices and critical distance, but also antilanguage and
ambiguity (Boddy 1989) and the possibility for the simultaneous transmission of opposed
messages (Rasmussen 1995). Possession is truly heteroglossic. Recent studies have tried
to break through prior restrictions to examine possession on its own terms, in the
societies where it is found. These studies locate it in wider social and historical contexts,
describing how it acts as a prism through which naturalized constructs (e.g., of person,
gender, or body) are refracted or undone.
References
Boddy, Janis. 1989. Wombs and Alien Spirits. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press.
——1994. Spirit Possession Revisited: Beyond Instrumentality. Annual Review of Anthropology
23:407–434.
Karp, Ivan. 1989. Power and Capacity in Rituals of Possession. In The Creativity of Power:
Cosmology and Action in African Societies, eds. William Arens and Ivan Karp. Washington,
D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press.
Kramer, F. 1993. The Red Fez: Art and Spirit Possession in Africa, tr. M.R. Green. London: Verso.
Lambek, Michael. 1981. Human Spirits. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press.
——. 1993. Knowledge and Practice in Mayotte: Local Discourses of Islam, Sorcery, and Spirit
Possession. Toronto: University of Toronto Press.
Lewis, I.M. 1971. Ecstatic Religion: An Anthropological Study of Spirit Possession and
Shamanism. Harmondsworth, England: Penguin.
——. 1986. Religion in Context: Cults and Charisma. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University
Press.
Rasmussen, Susan. 1995. Spirit Possession and Personhood among the Kel Ewey Tuareg.
Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press.
Stoller, Paul. 1989. Fusion of the Worlds: An Ethnography of Possession among the Songhay of
Niger. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
——. 1992. The Cinematic Griot. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
SUSAN J.RASMUSSEN
See also Gender: Representation in African Folklore; Medicine; Performance in
Africa; Zar; Spirit Possession in the Sudan
SPIRIT POSSESSION: WEST AFRICA
Spirit possession in West Africa is important for a number of reasons. It is a significant
aspect of local healing and social systems in much of the region, and it is the source of
many of the possession practices that traveled to the Americas via the Atlantic slave
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trade. It has also been the site of some of the most distinctive academic studies of
possession.
The distribution of spirit possession is uneven, but covers most of West Africa from
Senegal to Nigeria with the exception of the coastal strip from Guinea Bissau to Cote
d’Ivoire. Though there are some scattered reports of possession seances in Guinea,
Liberia, and western Cote d’Ivoire, they are rare and seem likely to have been introduced
recently from neighboring areas.
In the Sahelian region on the southern border of the Sahara, possession is common and
ranges from Senegal, across Mali, and into Niger and northern Nigeria. Here, possession
usually coexists with Islam, as in much of North and East Africa, though it is officially
discouraged. Indeed, it seems likely that North African spirit-possession cultures may
have had a strong influence on their analogues in West Africa, especially given the
presence of possession among the Tuareg, who cross the Sahara regularly, sharing in the
culture of both regions (Rasmussen 1995). Other types of spirit possession in the Sahelian
region include the ndop possession groups among the Wolof of Senegal, djine don
possession rites of the Bamana people of Mali, Holey possession among the Songhay of
Niger, and the Bori possession cult among the Hausa of Niger and Nigeria. Two
characteristics link these various forms of possession: Possessing spirits are usually either
spirits or animals of the surrounding land and water, said to have lived there “always,” in
implicit distinction from the Muslim or Christian high God, who has been introduced
relatively recently. Secondly, adepts—those who actually “take the spirit”—are most
often women, a characteristic trait of possession throughout the continent.
Spirit possession in West Africa has been studied by both French and English
speakers. Anglophone anthropologists have tended to link spirit possession to its causes
in the wider society. Explanations have included compensation for women’s lack of
power in male-dominated societies to nutritional deficiencies and “automatic” responses
to certain types of music. Many of these approaches have been criticized for reducing
complex situations and practices to single-cause explanations.
Francophone writers have tended to focus primarily on the experience and the
expressive aspects of possession. This has encouraged a much broader range of analyses
than those that fall within the domain of British social anthropology. While some authors
have approached possession from a psychoanalytic perspective (Ortigues and Ortigues
1966), others have focused on the multifaceted role of music in possession ceremonies
(Rouget 1990). Still others have focused on the theatrical aspects of the possession
seance, which typically attracts a large (interactive) audience of nonadepts, who become
involved in the proceedings much in the same way as they might during a masquerade or
a performance involving music and dance. Most famous among these researchers is Jean
Rouch, whose 1954 film Les maîtres fous (The Mad Masters) portrays a group of young
migrant workers from Niger living in Accra, Ghana (then the Gold Coast), and acting out
the roles of colonial officials in a violent Hauka possession seance. The film is probably
the most dramatic ever made on spirit possession, but it does have its critics.
Recent analyses by American writers have focused on issues of gender, and especially
the links between possession and women’s health and fertility (Masquelier 1995, 2001;
Rasmussen 1995). This research follows the insight from other parts of the continent that
many possession communities have gender, sexuality, and conception as primary foci.
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Finally, possession is one of the strongest links between the cultures of the West
African coast and those of the African diaspora. As nonmaterial valuables, possessing
spirits were among the “belongings” African slaves were able to bring with them across
the Middle Passage. Important coastal possession cultures exist in Southwest Nigeria,
where Yoruba speakers share possession by deities such as Shango and Ogun with
practitioners of religions such as Candomble in Brazil and Santería in Cuba (Verger
1957). The Vodun religion and possession practices of present-day Benin and Togo
continue there and in a recognizably similar form across the Atlantic in Haiti. In Africa
and the diaspora, cultures and religions of possession coexist with and borrow from
monotheistic religions such as Catholicism, Protestant Christianity, and Islam.
References
Bessmer, Fremont. 1983. Horses, Musicians, and Gods. South Hadley, Mass.: Bergen and Garvey.
Gibbal, Jean-Marie. 1994. Genii of the River Niger. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Kramer, Fritz 1993. The Red Fez. London: Verso.
Masquelier, Adeline. 1995. Consumption, Prostitution, and Reproduction: The Poetics of
Sweetness in Bori. American Ethnologist 22, no. 4:883–906.
——. 2001. Prayer Has Spoiled Everything: Possession, Power, and Identity in an Islamic Town of
Niger. Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press.
Ortigues, Marie-Cecile, and E.Ortigues. 1966. Oedipe africain. Paris: Plon.
Rasmussen, Susan. 1995. Spirit Possession and Personhood among the Kel Ewey Tuareg.
Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press.
Rouch, Jean. 1978. On the Vicissitudes of the Self: The Possessed Dancer, the Magician, the
Sorcerer, the Filmmaker, and the Ethnographer. Studies in the Anthropology of Visual
Communication, 5, no. 1:2–8.
——. 1989. La religion et la magie Songhay. Brussels: Editions de l’Universite de Bruxelles.
Rouget, Gilbert. 1990. Music and Trance. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Verger, Pierre. 1957. Notes sur le culte des Orisa et Vodun a Bahia: la Baie de tous les saints au
Brasil et l’ancienne Cote des esclaves en Afrique. Dakar: IFAN.
MICHAEL MCGOVERN
See also Diaspora; Comfa Healing; Santería in Cuba; Vodou
STORIES AND STORYTELLING: THE
LIMBA
According to the Limba of northern Sierra Leone, their storytelling is not as significant as
their music, songs, and dances. Nevertheless, it still plays important roles. Scholarly
knowledge is largely based on Ruth Finnegan’s 1960s extensive storytelling research
among eastern Limba, Gugelchuk’s generative-transformational analysis of twelve tales
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collected by Finnegan (1985), and Ottenberg’s unpublished notes from 1978 to 1980 on
the northeastern Limba in Wara Wara Bafodea chiefdom. Stories are called mboro, a
term also used for riddles, proverbs, parables, analogies, metaphors, and, occasionally,
historical narratives.
According to Finnegan, Limba stories are usually short, untitled, uncomplicated, and
not rigidly fixed. The narrators, mostly males, alter and embellish them, and occasionally
create new stories or take them from elsewhere. According to Finnegan, “there is no one
form of any Limba story that could be called the fixed or ‘correct’ one” (1967, 91). The
Limba possess little specialized vocabulary to describe stories and storytelling, and there
is no special term for the narrator. Story vocabulary is like everyday speech, and action in
the tales usually take place in a Limba village, though the texts are sometimes obscure.
Some stories are told in the daytime, but most are presented at night in Limba villages,
occasionally at the farms, and palm wine is often drunk during the storytelling. Narrator
and audience sing in a call-and-response pattern in the midst of the tale, with audience
clapping. The narrator often appoints a responder from the listeners, who supports or
comments as the story unfolds. Narrators are of all ages, and stories are not owned by
individuals, families, or clans, as is the case among Native Americans of the Northwest
Coast of the United States. The audience is normally composed of males and females of
various ages with plenty of children also in attendance.
Storytelling is but one aspect of the emphasis on speaking well among Limba. Muslim
influences on tales through Mandingo and Fulani living in Limba country occur, as well
as Western influences. Stories refer to past times, but flashbacks within them are rare.
The inner feelings of characters in the stories are rarely developed; the emphasis is on
action. Limba are proud of their stories, which serve as ethnic markers for them, even
though similar tales occur in neighboring cultures. Historical narratives are not usually
found at Limba story sessions but rather in the context of court cases and political
conflicts, where songs and clapping do not occur. While many stories have moral
elements, aesthetic features such as humor and fantasy are very significant. Finnegan
believes that Limba stories not only reflect life but influence it.
Types of Stories
Finnegan classifies stories into those about people, those about religion and the high God,
Kanu (also called Kanu Masala, Masala, or, occasionally Allah) and those based on
animals. She indicates there is much classificatory overlap, however, and the Limba
themselves do not classify their tales. People stories, the most popular and elaborate
form, often involve marital or parent-child conflicts, where women play strong,
aggressive, and sometimes treacherous roles, more so than in everyday Limba life. Love
and spouse-wooing themes and competitions are common. Killings, beatings and
revenge, adultery, and the plight of orphans are also frequent themes, suggesting
underlying family tensions in Limba life. Some people stories involve chiefs and
succession to chieftaincy, where chiefs may act poorly and are punished, suggesting some
anxiety among the Limba over leadership. Little reference occurs to colonial or modern
political situations. Hunter tales are common, as are stories involving twins and triplets.
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Religious stories are often explanatory tales about how death came about, why Kanu is
in the sky, or the origin of chieftaincy, but few stories concern the origin of natural
phenomena. Kanu generally plays a friendly and supportive role in the tales. Stories of
Kanu meld with Christian and Muslim beliefs—both religions exist among the Limba, in
addition to their own. Some religious tales involve spirits other than Kanu, often living in
the bush. But though ancestors play important roles in every day life, few. references to
them occur in stories. Witch beliefs and supposed practices, endemic among the Limba,
find expression in some tales.
Animal stories are metaphoric of human behavior. Animals often have specific
characteristics: the antelope is retiring, the leopard dangerous, the finch a diviner. The
key story figure, Wosi the spider, who, unlike the case in many other West African
animal trickster tales, is an unsuccessful trickster. Arrogant and selfish, his tricks are
defeated by honorable animals, often by his larger and stronger, but honest and forthright,
wife Kuyi. Slander is not uncommon in Limba life and occurs in both animal and people
tales.
Storytelling Sessions
Storytelling sessions are spontaneous occasions, growing out of sociability in public, and
they are not a private activity. Finnegan stresses the importance of understanding
storytelling as a performance, in its particular settings, where the narrators’ gestures,
dancing, and other body movements; changes in voicing and facial expressions; singing
ability; skills in mimicry of people, animals, Kanu, and other spirits; use of dramatic
repetition; and the interaction of teller and audience, are as important as the text.
Storytellers are often skillful drummers, singers, and diviners, sometimes even
blacksmiths. But they do not travel, as do musicians and diviners; theirs is not a truly
professional role.
Ottenberg’s unpublished researches at Wara Wara Bafodea suggest variations. There,
songs often open and close the story, as well as occurring within it. There is frequently a
wood gong (nkali) player in addition to the narrator, or the narrator plays the instrument
himself. Females are active as storytellers, and tales are told less in the dry season, in the
villages, where other performative activities occur, than at the more isolated, farm
residences in the rainy season.
References
Bockarie, Samura, and Heribert Hinzen. 1986. Limba Stories and Songs. Stories and Songs from
Sierra Leone, no. 13. Freetown: People’s Educational Association of Sierra Leone.
Chopping Boy (Momodu Mansaray). 1986. “Aw fish kam na dis wol” en da stori den we Chopin
Boy pul (How Fish Came into the World and Other Stories by Chopping Boy). Stories and
Songs from Sierra Leone, no. 8. Freetown: People’s Educational Association of Sierra Leone.
Finnegan, Ruth. 1965. Survey of the Limba People of Northern Sierra Leone. London: H.M.S.O.
——. 1967. Limba Stories and Story-Telling. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
——. 1969. Attitudes to Speech and Language among the Limba of Sierra Leone. Odu, A Journal
of West Africa, Studies 2:61–77.
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——. 1970. Oral Literature in Africa. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
——. 1982. “Short Time to Stay.” Comments on Time, Literature and Oral Performance.
Bloomington: African Studies Program, Twelfth Annual Hans Wolff Memorial Lecture.
——. 1992. Reflecting Back on Oral Literature in Africa: Some Reconsiderations after 21 years.
South Africa Journal of African Languages 12, no. 2:39–47.
Gugelchuk, Gary M. 1985. A Generative Transformational Analysis of the Plots of Limba (West
Africa) Dilemma Tales. Ph.D. dissertation Ohio State University.
Ottenberg, Simon. Unpublished field notes, Wara Wara Bafodea, 1978–1980.
SIMON OTTENBERG
See also Performance in Africa Storytellers; West Africa
STORYTELLERS
“Kwathi ke kaloku ngantsomi…” (“And now for a story…”): The storyteller pronounces
the familiar formulaic words, and moves her audience into the riches of the cultural past
into a world charged with fantasy. But in the process, the members of the audience never
leave the tangible, perceptible world. The storyteller moves them into antiquity,
scrupulously making the connections between past and present, and in that nexus shapes
their experience of the present. When the opening words are pronounced, the audience
realizes that an enchanting fusion of the two worlds is about to transpire, that time is
about to be arrested, and that history is about to be experienced.
The Tools of the Storyteller
The stuff of the storytelling profession has been around from the beginning of recorded
time. These materials include the remnants, relics, and shards of the human experience.
These are snatches of the lived life, images that reflect it, and the mythic images that
define and shape it. It was only the presence of the storyteller that was required to knit
these materials into stories that gave meaning and context to it all, forming the emotions
of those in the audience into worlds of illusion, creating stories out of the air itself—tales
that would never relinquish their mesmerizing hold on audiences.
Storytellers sing of humanity’s triumphs and record humanity’s debasements. They
embody and engage both sides of the human condition—its beauty and its
monstrousness—keeping both alive. That is the troubling pact, at once glorious and
odious, that is made with the storyteller, who unlocks a people’s collective memory,
allowing listeners to both celebrate and revel in their past. The storyteller knows sadness
and has experienced hate, and, although the storyteller never turns her eyes from
melancholy, her words give us hope. The images of the youth whose love was plain and
whose quest was right gives people hope. And these most ancient of artists focus their
efforts and the attention of their audiences on the changes they regularly experience.
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The Great Storytellers
“Africa,” wrote Edouard Jacottet “has treasures, for the most part still hidden, in store for
the student of folk-lore” (1908, xiv). Among the Sotho storytellers who provided the rich
materials for Jacottet’s collections were Moshe Mosetse and ‘Mamangana, who told
stories about the movement of young people to completeness, the rites of passage moving
them to adulthood. The finest storyteller encountered among the Zulu in the midnineteenth century by Henry Callaway, and arguably the most accomplished Zulu
performer yet recorded, was Lydia Umkasetemba. Callaway transcribed and translated
eight stories told by Umkasetemba. Among the most impressive is “Untombiyapansi,” a
story in which a real-life girl is brought into metaphorical relationship with a fantasy
character, as the girl’s agonizing but ultimately triumphant movement into womanhood is
signaled and revealed by the antics of the imaginary character in the realm of fantasy.
Storytellers in Africa have traditionally been a major means of making connections with
the past, of enabling members of audiences to view themselves and their worlds within an
ancestral context, a context that makes sense of their world, that charts their lives for
them, that records and manipulates their movements through the great changes that mark
their arc from birth to death.
We “are in the…market place which lies within the casbah of a Moroccan town. Blind
Mahjoub, the storyteller, is in the center of a circle of spellbound listeners who are
eagerly drinking in his tales of caliphs, jinns and saints, of enchanted gardens and
alabaster palaces” (Chimenti 1965, 1). The storyteller is the crucial figure. Margaret Read
argues that “her imagination and her personality illuminate the ancient stories with her
own turns and phrases. The story is the same, but its telling is ever changing” (Elliott
1968, vii). Observers document the performances of great storytellers: “One listens to a
clever storyteller, as was our old friend Mungalo,” noted Edwin E. Smith and Andrew
Murray Dale. “Speak of eloquence!…[E]very muscle of face and body spoke, a swift
gesture often supplying the place of a whole sentence” (1920, 2, 336).
Ahmad Abd-al-Rahim M.Nasr tells of Musa al-Tahir from northern Nigeria who used
a fahami charm given to him by his father, a charm that enabled him to remember things
in detail, and he became a renowned professional singer of stories. He used a tin drum as
accompaniment, becoming known as Maitanaka, the possessor of a tin, and he told stories
to his 104th year. “Anyone may tell a story,” asserts Alta Jablow, “but there is usually
one, noted for his skill as a raconteur and for his wide repertory of tales, who carries
much of the performance. There are also special times when stories are told during the
day in the market-places, as when a noted teller of tales comes to a Hausa village. The
usual market activities slow down or cease altogether while the storyteller performs”
(1961, 29–30).
Among the Lamba people of Zambia, Mulekelela from Kawunda Chiwele was a great
raconteur. The stories that he performed, he said, were passed down through the
generations. He started his story with the words, “Mwe wame! After each sentence he
pauses automatically for the last few words to be repeated or filled in by his audience,
and as the story mounts to its climax, so does the excitement of the speaker rise with
gesture and pitch of voice. A good storyteller will tell over again a story, well-known to
all, in such a way that they will leave their pipes and crowd nearer to him around his fire,
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A Xhosa woman, Nongenile
Masithathu Zenani, performing a story,
1975.
Photo © Harold Scheub.
so as not to miss a single detail” (Doke 1927, xii–xiii). Said S. Samatar tells of ‘Abdille
‘Ali Siigo, who would chant poetry “late into the night before a captivated audience of
men, women, and children. He was a dramatic chanter who seemed to command even the
attention of the camels which sat nearby, lazily chewing their cuds” (1982, x). Abbakar
Hasan of Maiurno, Sudan, was both musician and actor. He played a two-stringed
musical instrument as he performed, using ideophones and proverbs, and he was careful
“to link fictitious events with his people’s day to day life” (AbuManga 1985, 9–11). Ross
and Walker tell of the Nkundo storyteller, Tata Manga, who, “regardless of the size of his
audience, entered fully into the spirit of each tale he told, dramatizing the dialogues,
varying his tone and his speed, utilizing the full range of Lonkundo locutions, and
employing every opportunity for the increasing of suspense” (1979, 50).
One of the greatest of Africa’s storytellers was //Kabbo, a San performer, who said,
“A story is like the wind. It comes from a far-off place, and we feel it.” He continued:
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I am waiting for the moon to turn back for me, so that I may return to my
home and listen to all the people’s stories when I visit them. When the
weather gets a little warmer, I sit in the sun, sitting and listening to the
stories that come from out there, stories that come from a distance. Then I
catch hold of a story that floats out from the distant place—when the sun
feels warm and when I feel that I must visit and talk with my fellows
(Bleek and Lloyd 1911, 298–301).
When he said those words, //Kabbo was a prisoner being held on Robben Island. His
name means “dream,” and he was without question the most imaginative and poetic of
these storytellers.
Observers tell of how storytellers create character, the tools that they use as they
construct their tales: “His variation of speed and tone, vocabulary, persuasion of his
listeners, vehemence and drama, are all knit into an aesthetic whole” (Kabira 1983, 16).
Writing of the Nigerian Edo people, H.L.M.Butcher commented, “The narrative holds the
audience enthralled, though most of the tales will be familiar, and the eloquence of the
teller receives instant appreciation. The various actions described are imitated, and
onomatopoeic sounds are freely used” (1937, 342). And Edward Evans-Pritchard
emphasizes nonverbal aspects of performance among the Azande people of the Sudan,
noting “the tone of voice, the singsong of the chants, and the gestures and mimicry which
give emphasis to what is being said and are sometimes a good part of its meaning” (1967,
18–19). Masks and costumes may be used as well, as in Ijo epic performances in Nigeria
(Clark 1977, xxiv). Writing of the creation of Nyanga epics in Congo, Daniel Biebuyck
and Kahombo Mateene note that, “while singing and narrating, the bard dances, mimes,
and dramatically represents the main peripeties of the story” (1969, 13).
Performance is the thing: “The artist changes the voice depending on whether he/she
was imitating the ogre or a bird. In this way, he/she can shape the audience’s emotions”
(Kabira and Adagala 1985, xvi). Words are not the only aspect of storytelling. “It is in
performance that a storyteller makes a tale his or her own,” writes Robert Cancel. “When
the performer is not only in command of his or her stage presence but also an inventive
embellisher of narratives, the results can be both entertaining and transforming” (1989,
19–20). Writing of storytellers in Sierra Leone, Modupe Broderick describes “the
dynamic relationship existing between performer and audience engaged in the
manipulation of emotions and in the creation of suspense, the vital non-verbal features
such as the rhythmic swaying of the body during the rendition of a song, a subtle facial
expression to convey sorrow, joy, or surprise, or the imitation of the movement of stock
characters” (1980, 7–8).
Such a storyteller “can conjure up an atmosphere, and carry his audience with him,
and thus provide a thrilling entertainment. Some are good mimics and add to the
enjoyment by emulating the sounds of the animals and birds they impersonate” (Basden
1938, 424). The role of the storyteller is to keep the society alive, to create a conduit to
the past. But, as John Mbiti has pointed out, “each person will tell the same story
differently, since he has to make it personal and not simply a mechanical repetition of
what he had heard or narrated before. He becomes not only a ‘repeater’ but also a
‘creative’ originator of each story” (1966, 26).
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Nokavala, a Xhosa storyteller.
Photo © Harold Scheub.
The Role of the Audience
The audience has a crucial role to play. “The narrator commences the story with the
formal beginning of the story. This said in a slightly high-pitched voice. It appears to be
done in order to prepare the audience: it proves to be an effective way of drawing their
attention and arousing their interest” (Nkonki, 91–93). The audience “acts as a stimulus, a
catalyst, to the creativeness and imagination of the artist since…each performance before
each particular audience constitutes a new creation. The mood of the audience, whether
sad or gay, will most likely infect the artist; likewise the mood of the artist will affect the
audience” (Akivaga and Odaga 1982, 10). Those audiences are varied, not just “of tender
years, but grown men and women, who listen to the well-worn recitals” (Maugham 1910,
380–381). In Cameroon, the Gbaya performer always places the ancient story within the
context of the contemporary world, and “The audience also participates in the
performance by breaking in with questions and comments and by singing the chorus that
accompanies the song” (Noss 1967, 35). What is being revealed here is that stories are a
major means of remembering the past: “The most respected women of each community
had assumed the responsibility of passing on the culture of the Bura by telling stories to
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the younger children in the evening time. The older children carried on by reciting the
stories to one another” (Helser 1930, 9).
The Power of Stories
“When those of us in my generation awakened to earliest consciousness,” said a
contemporary Xhosa storyteller, “we were born into a tradition that was already
flourishing” (Zenani 1992, 7). Walter Benjamin, having read an African tale, commented,
“This story from ancient Egypt is still capable after thousands of years of arousing
astonishment and thoughtfulness. It resembles the seeds of grain which have lain for
centuries in the pyramids shut up air-tight and have retained their germinative power to
this day” (1973, 90). Storytelling is entertainment, always, and it is seldom openly or
obviously didactic. But it routinely embraces the breadth of human experience, providing
emotional excursions into experiences that shape audiences and reveals to them the
contexts of the worlds in which they live, as well as their place in those worlds. Stories
are ancient, relying on emotion-evoking images that come from the past, yet stories are
always contemporary, constructing around those ancient images the world of the present.
These images from the past become a storyteller’s means of exploring and shaping the
audience’s experiences of the world that it inhabits. If a member of the audience cannot
move beyond the literal level of the story, then the power of the tale is denied him. It is
the rhythm of the tale that seduces him, lures him into the story, to the characters and
their relationships, and, in the end, it is that emotional participation in the activities of the
tale that make the audience a part of the transforming metaphor that is at the core of all
storytelling. That is where messages can be found; it is the reason one cannot ignore the
wiles of the tale-teller.
The Role of Fantasy
Fantasy, to which audiences respond, is complex, comprised as it is of mythic images,
patterns, and relationships within the context of artistic performance. Contemporary
images are not fantasy until they are introduced into the parallel mythic world; they then
retain their real-world significance, but are brought into relationships with fantasy
images. All are encompassed in performance, which is, of course, fantasy, comprised of
dance, music, and relations with audience. So fantasy is defined as an image, an action, a
pattern, a relationship that occurs within a tightly manipulated and controlled narrative
environment that partakes of the real world but is itself a parallel world. That parallel
world can only occur within the context and embrace of the real world, so that there is
always an ironic encounter between them. But the relationship is only ironic: it is not a
one-to-one relationship.
The fantasy parallel world is fed by the real world; indeed, everything in the parallel
world can be seen to have its origins in the real world. But it is not the real world in its
organization, in the relationship between images, or in the images themselves when those
images transcend in some way their real-life counterparts. This parallel world exists in its
own right, with its own rules and laws. These rules and laws can be stated in broad terms,
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but they can only be worked out by an analysis of the individual narrative that exists
within that parallel world.
The patterns are needed because they give emotions form, shaping them. Patterns
work the evoked emotions into designs that, while having little to do with the surface
movement, are composed wholly of those images. The body and voice of the storyteller
and nonverbal elements of performance play large roles in this shaping process. Patterns
are the chief organizing devices of storytelling. Images, which are sensed actions, are
organized into patterns, and theme (or meaning) grows out of these patterns.
Metaphor
The power of a tale is not that one emerges with a glimmering, memorable metaphor. The
tale is itself a metaphor, and that is its power. To attempt to summarize the tale in the
form of a single metaphor would be to paraphrase that which cannot be paraphrased.
Fantasy tales are a form of reasoning, a way of looking at things. The move from reality
to fantasy is useful—things do not obey normal routines because they are not normal
routines; they are the stuff of normal routines brought together in poetic form to reveal
new relationships. Because tales use the materials of the known world, audiences have a
tendency to be sensitive to their interrelationships, and when those relationships do not
correspond to the way we behave in their routine world, they are confused. This is the
world of art, a closed world, and normal experiences of images are given new forms and
new relationships and linkages. The result is a new measure of the real world. The
blending of the real and fantasy is the key, not simply fantasy. Without the moorings of
the real world, fantasy would be dull. Fantasy breaks the world into artificial pieces, for
one thing. It forces thinking about those matters into new modes.
It is the figure in the mask that links African stories and, in turn, provides connections
to stories throughout the world. That mask, whatever shape it takes, becomes the chamber
for transformation, which is at the heart of the tale-telling tradition. It may be a literal
mask, or it may be figurative, but it is present in all stories that have to do with change.
What is universal in the African stories is this metamorphosing of humans, a change
revealed by a mirroring process, by journeying, by dualism—in short, by metaphor,
which is at the heart of the tale. This inner metaphorical core universalizes the stories,
whether it be stark trickster stories (which contain the amoral energy necessary to the
transformation), the seemingly obvious journeying stories, or the more complex tales in
which characters are poetically layered. It is this process that envelopes members of
audiences, so that they have a shimmering sense of the path that lies before them.
References
Abu-Manga, Al-Amin. 1985. Baakankaro, A Fulani Epic from Sudan. Africana Marburgensia 9:9–
11.
Akivaga, S.Kichamiu, and A.Bole Odaga. 1982. Oral Literature. Nairoibi: Heinemann.
Basden, George Thomas. 1938. Niger I bos. London: Cass.
Benjamin, Walter. 1973. Illuminations. Tr. Harry Zohn. Glasgow: William Collins.
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Biebuyck, Daniel, and Kahombo C.Mateene. 1969. The Mwindo Epic. Berkeley: University of
California Press.
Bleek, W.H.I., and Lucy C.Lloyd. 1911. Specimens of Bushman Folklore. London: George Allen.
Broderick, Modupe. 1980. Go Ta Nan 1:7–8.
Butcher, H.L.M. 1937. Four Edo Fables. Africa 10:342.
Callaway, Henry. 1968. Nursery Tales, Traditions, and Histories of the Zulus. Springvale, Natal:
John A. Blair.
Cancel, Robert. 1989. Allegorical Speculation in an Oral Society. Berkeley: University of
California Press.
Chimenti, Elisa. 1965. Tales and Legends from Morocco. New York: Ivan Obolensky.
Clark, John Pepper. 1977. The Ozidi Saga. Ibadan, Nigeria: Ibadan University Press.
Doke, Clement M. 1927. Lamba Folk-Lore. New York: G.W. Stechert.
Elliot, Geraldine. 1968. The Long Grass Whispers. New York: Schocken Books.
Evans-Pritchard, E.E. 1967. The Zande Trickster. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Helser, Albert D. 1930. African Stories. New York: Fleming H. Revell.
Jacottet, Edouard. 1908. The Treasury of Ba-Suto Lore. Morija, Lesotho: Sesuto Book Depot.
Jablow, Alta. 1961. Yes and No, The Intimate Folklore of Africa. New York: Horizon Press.
Kabira, Wanjiku Mukabi. 1983. The Oral Artist. Nairobi: Heinemann.
Kabira, Wanjiku Mukabi, and Kavetsa Adagala. 1985. Kenyan Oral Narratives. Nairobi:
Heinemann.
Maugham, Reginald Charles F. 1910. Zambezia. London: J. Murray.
Mbiti, John S. 1966. Akamba Stories. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Nasr, Ahmad Abd-al-Rahim M. 1977. Maiwurno of the Blue Nile: A Study of an Oral Biography.
Ph.D. dissertation, University of Wisconsin-Madison.
Nkonki, Garvey. “The Traditional Prose Literature of the Ngqika,” M.A. dissertation. University of
South Africa.
Noss, Philip A.Noss. 1967. Gbaya Traditional Literature. Abbia, 17–18:35.
Ross, Mabel H., and Barbara K.Walker. 1979. “On Another Day… “Tales Told among the Nkundo
of Zaire. Hamden, Conn.: Archon Books.
Samatar, Said S. 1982. Oral Poetry and Somali Nationalism. Cambridge, England: Cambridge
University Press.
Smith, Edwin E., and Andrew Murray Dale. 1920. The Ila-speaking Peoples of Northern Rhodesia.
London: Macmillan.
Zenani, Nongenile Masithathu. 1992. The World and the Word: Tales and Observations from the
Xhosa Oral Tradition, ed. Harold Scheub. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press.
HAROLD SCHEUB
See also Initiation; Oral Performance Dynamics; Oral Traditions; Performance
in Africa; Stories and Storytelling: The Limba
SUDAN
Located in northeastern Africa, Sudan, with 967,500 square miles, is the continent’s
largest country. Sudan’s climate ranges from desert in the north to tropical in the south.
Of the nation’s 31,100,000 citizens, 52 percent are black, 39 percent Arab, 6 percent
Beja, and 3 percent are from other ethnic groups. The major languages spoken in the
country are Arabic, Nuer, Dinka, Shilluki, Masalatis, Fur, Nubian, and English. While
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Arabic is the official language, only 60 percent of the nation speak it. Christianity and
traditional indigenous religions are practiced throughout the country, though the
population is mostly Sunni Muslim in the north. Khartoum, a city of 924,500, is the
nation’s capital.
Sudan’s modern history is traced from 1821, when it was conquered by Egypt. In
1881, Muhammad Ahmad, the Mahdi, a powerful religious leader, overthrew the
Egyptian government. An Anglo-Egyptian army defeated him in 1899, and the country
was then ruled by the two nations jointly. Sudan gained its independence on January 1,
1956. Due to the country’s vast size, great ethnic diversity, and ongoing north-south
warfare, however, the nation’s subsequent governments have had tremendous difficulty
in building a cohesive nation. This situation was worsened in 1989, when the
fundamentalist National Islamic Front took control of the government and implemented a
repressive military regime. Despite its potential for growth, Sudan has become an
increasingly divided society.
The Nile River runs through Sudan, supplying water to almost all of the nation’s
farmers (some 80 percent of the population). Sudan is rich in the natural resources of oil,
iron ore, copper, chrome, and other industrial metals, while the agricultural sector
produces cotton, peanuts, sesame, gum arabic, sorghum, and wheat. Principle industries
include textiles, cement, cotton ginning, edible oils, distilling, and pharmaceuticals.
Despite such exceptional potential for economic growth, Sudan remains one of the
world’s poorest nations.
Mohammed Wardi, Sudan’s most popular musician, is internationally renowned for
his songs about injustice. His music, however, has been banned in Sudan and he has been
forced to live in exile.
JENNIFER JOYCE
SUPERSTITIONS
Superstition is an aspect of belief, and it is often connected with daily human
experiences. It is found in all human cultures and can be linked with people’s attempts to
apprehend mysterious experiences and happenings in their world, reflecting people’s
curiosity about the future or unknown realities. In common usage, the term superstition
connotes beliefs about phenomena that people find difficult to explain in rational terms.
Superstitions are, therefore, beliefs and practices that are apparently lacking a rational
basis. People in different cultures assign seemingly superficial explanations to
occurrences whose causes are not easily visible. Most often, the explanations are
accompanied by various practices and observances, which the concerned people believe
may cause desirable effects or prevent detrimental consequences from natural and social
events. Many analysts of traditional belief systems consider superstition to be a false,
groundless belief that stretches beyond the actual limits of faith (Schmidt 1963, 13). The
causes and effects, which are beyond ordinary human explanation, are sought in
speculative accounts. A reductionist definition of superstition refers to nonempirical and
nonscientific beliefs about good and bad luck.
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Credulity, fear, a sense of vulnerability, and perhaps ignorance are the main hallmarks
of beliefs, practices, and rituals that are popularly linked with superstition. In most cases,
people find themselves obliged to observe certain prescriptions, observances, and
proscriptions. In this regard, people are guided by their acceptance of mysterious and
supernatural forces that invisibly affect their lives. Superstition has also been connected
with nontheistic beliefs, through which human beings are convinced that they can
influence and manipulate the invisible forces in the universe to their benefit. This
approach contradicts religious beliefs about supplication to God, who is the ultimate
source of power, which human beings cannot control or tap as they please. This aspect
usually depicts superstition as the opposite of religious belief; however, there are
religious, cultural, personal, and magical aspects of superstitions.
Superstition is a dynamic component of culture. Superstitious tradition manifests
persistence and change in any culture. This results in the coexistence of popular and
artificial superstitions. Popular superstitions preserve ancient customs and traditions of a
people, especially as they have developed among those sections of the community who
live closest to nature, such as farmers, shepherds, and boatmen, as well as fishermen and
craftsmen (Schmidt 1963, 15). Popular superstitions contrast with artificial ones, which
do not have links with old ethnic customs. Artificial superstitions are false notions about
ritualized behaviors involving modern aspects of life such as brushing teeth with a brush
with a particular color or wearing a certain kind of attire on specific days. In this
distinction, one can talk about indigenous and modern superstition, both of which are
products of human experience in concrete environments.
Modern education and religions, such as Christianity and Islam, have had the greatest
impacts on the traditional Africans, leading them to abandon most of their popular
superstitions. Superstitions may be limited to countries, regions, villages, families, social
or vocational groups, and individuals. Individuals, both in the past and the present,
develop personal superstitions related to their own perspectives and experiences about
success and failure. This implies that “irrational beliefs” or superstitious ideas may
endure regardless of the facts that reject their accuracy.
The Bantu
The Bantu of western Kenya have various superstitions that present a pattern that is
arguably representative of the entire Bantu and other African ethnic groups. The Bantu is
one of the largest ethnic groups in Africa, with many expansive dialects that are mutually
intelligible. They occupy over one-third of the conti nent and are well represented in
territories of other indigenous ethnic groups as either immigrants or sojourners.
The Bantu of Kenya are part of a larger group that is believed to have come from the
Cameroon highlands in West Africa (Murdock 1959; Osongo 1976; Werner 1968).
Historians have used linguistic evidence to locate the original home of the Bantus at the
Cameroon-Nigeria border in the Cameroon mountains. The term Bantu is derived from
the linguistic uniformity that characterizes the Bantu people of Africa. The people who
speak the Bantu languages have the common suffix “-ntu” in their words, representing a
person, place, modality, or being. In most of the Bantu languages, the word for “people”
is Abantu (or variants of it maintaining the common root “-ntu”). Bantu languages may
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differ in vocabulary and pronunciation, but they have uniform grammatical structure and
main linguistic outlines. As such, the Bantu have close genetic relationships, indicating
their differentiation from a single speech community (Murdock 1959; Wagner 1970).
Apart from the linguistic homogeny, the Bantu have many common beliefs and
customs. Commonality in Bantu cultural traits is attributed to the historical process of
union and absorption of fellow Bantu-speaking peoples. They also have common patterns
in their indigenous forms of social, economic, and political organization. The
sociocultural characteristics of the Bantu and their adjacent communities reflect the
consequences of intermingling and the process of acculturation. The Bantu occupy
territories that were once inhabited by hunters and gatherers (Murdock 1959; Fedders and
Salvadori 1979), whom they have gradually absorbed.
The Bantu of western Kenya have patrilineal, patrilocal communities, and people are
related to each other through a system of minimal patrilineages, which are the main
descent groups. The descent groups are land-owning units and the basis of kinship in
Bantu societies. Polygyny is a prescribed form of marriage union. However, an
increasing number of monogamous marital ties are evident among the young generation.
Typically, the Bantu believe in God, ancestors, and the existence of good and bad
spirits. Magico-religious beliefs are also evident in the Bantu conceptualization of the
mystical powers that may increase or decrease human vitality. Superstitious beliefs
among the Bantu manifest the desire by traditional Africans to maintain an equilibrium
among all the mystical forces that have consequences for their prosperity, success,
happiness, and health. In this regard, the people are always conscious of, and on the look
out for, auspicious and inauspicious behavior and phenomena.
Good and Bad Omens
The Bantu of western Kenya, like other Bantu peoples, believe that they can predict
imminent events and occurrences through omens and warnings. The omens may be
auspicious, making one confident in his or her undertakings. If the omens are perceived
as inauspicious according to popular beliefs, those concerned either abandon their plans
or engage in rituals to ward off looming evil spirits (Wagner 1970). In the popular
superstitions, community members infer omens from short- and long-term bodily
processes; natural occurrences in the cosmos; certain days and timing of events; dreams;
encounters with, and cries of, particular animals; and encounters with people whom the
community associate with good or bad luck.
Superstitions and Body Processes and Functions
From the time one is born until one’s death, he or she experiences bodily changes to
which the culture attaches certain meanings. The people interpret some of the alterations
in body functions and unique aspects of growth with impending success, prosperity, or
good health, and vice-versa. Among the Abagusii, Abasuba, Abatiriki, and Abalogoli,
when a child is born, family members are keen to detect the signs that may hint at the
future success of the child and the lineage. The community members construe specific
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birthmarks as indicators of either bad or good qualities inherited from the ancestors.
Some birthmarks are manifestations of either negative or positive endowments. The
Abaluhyia believe that a child born with mysterious scars (tsimbala or etsimbala) is
gifted with special skills or qualities that will help in such careers as medicine,
leadership, rainmaking, divining, or craftsmanship. For the Abanyore, for example,
rainmakers belong to the Abajimba lineage, although unique birthmarks or other features
can identify the specific practitioners at birth.
In some communities, inauspicious signs at birth and during childhood include early
teething, persistent crying, and habitual use of the left hand. When families become
aware of these omens, they suppress them through the performance of rituals, negative
reinforcement, and the application of herbal and animal medicines. In both childhood and
adulthood, the Bantus of western Kenya interpret a shaking of the eye (khudejera imoni
in Luhyia), a sudden sharp noise in the ear (khutiya shirhoi, kudiya gutu), repeated
sneezing, and watering of the eyes (zimoni khulila) as inauspicious signs. In these cases,
community members believe that they are warned of people talking ill of the victim, or
merely of “something evil about to happen.” The victims and their families resort to
ritualistic practices to ward off the imminent evil. Similarly, when an individual suddenly
becomes too anxious or restless, members of his or her social network remind him or her
that the condition is an indicator that, in one way or the other, all is or is not well.
Perceptions of Natural Rhythms and Occurrences
There is a degree of uniformity among the Bantu people of western Kenya in relation to
superstitions about natural occurrences in the universe. The weather provides the most
regular omens that guide economic activities, particularly agricultural production. The
people’s knowledge about tropical rain patterns is also linked to a number of beliefs that
are irrational from the outside observers’ perspective. The Abaluhyia, for instance,
suppose that complaining about the rain after a long dry spell sends the rain away.
Similarly, people do not walk in the first rains after a drought, because the rains cause
fever (ludejera), or, in modern times, the disease known as malaria.
Like the Bantu of southern Africa, the Bantu of western Kenya believe lightning
comes from a mystical living being in the form of a red cock (Werner 1968). They
believe that thunder that is preceded by lightning results from the flight of the cock. They
also believe that thunder is the voice of a powerful spirit whose medium is the red cock.
From time to time some commu nity members claim to have seen the cock eating insects
during heavy rains. The people who manage to see the flash of the cock go unhurt by
lightning. Only those who are unable to see this flash in good time are struck dead or
injured by lightning. Similarly, since the medium of thunder and lightning is red in color,
the people believe that those in red attire attract it.
There are also superstitious beliefs related to celestial bodies and other phenomena in
the sky. The moon, for example, is the subject of magical rites among the Abagusii and
the Abaluhyia. The Maragoli and the Abatiriki throw kitatula or shitatula sticks in the
direction of the full moon to heal long-term illnesses, especially among children. If a
mother has an invalid child, she throws the sticks to the moon and runs back into the
house without looking back. The Abaluhyia believe that these rites lead to a gradual
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disappearance of illness as the moon gets smaller each night (Wagner 1976). Similarly,
most of the Luhyia communities believe that they can treat mumps (tsindendei), a
common childhood illness, by throwing miniature bundles of firewood onto the mutembe
or elitembe tree after dancing around it. As is the case with throwing sticks at the moon,
the mumps patients do not heal if they look back in the course of running back home.
The western Kenya Bantu consider the sight of a comet to be an evil omen. In most
cases, it is viewed as a sign of imminent war with a community that lives in the direction
of the comet. Defeat in the foreseen war is prevented by offering sacrifices.
Among the rainmaking communities, certain people can prevent hailstorms and make
rain when there is need. The rainmaker is a person with the foreknowledge and power to
avert the harmful effects of rain, and to make it when there is a shortage of water. The art
of rainmaking among communities such as the Abanyore is an inheritable property
(Akong’a 1987). People send petitions to them and pay tribute to guarantee that they use
their knowledge to bring rain. The participants in rainmaking perceive the process as real
and true, although this may be based on false notions. The expert can also stop the rain
when it is undesirable, using medicines and spells, especially when the people think there
has been too much or when it interferes with essential activities or ceremonies. The
rainmaker will petition for rain, or for rain to stop, if he is pleased with the tribute paid to
him. In popular Bantu superstition, nonexperts can also participate in controlling rain or
hailstones. For instance, it is common among the Abaluhyia and Abagusii for people to
scatter ash and fix an axe in the ground to prevent or stop hailstorms. The Abaluhyia also
believe that the rainbow is an instrument that God sends to discontinue the rain. The
rainbow is therefore generally perceived as malignant and dangerous.
Other superstitions associated with cosmic rhythms are those related with dawn, dusk,
night, and other times of the day. The break of the day is a sign of prosperity. In most of
the traditional communities in western Kenya, the elders would offer prayers for their
families by spitting in the direction of the rising sun (ivwagwi, or ivugwi in Luhyia).
When a death occurred in the family, the elder would throw an egg to the east at night to
inhibit its return. In most of these communities, dusk symbolizes the end, especially of
unfavorable events or experiences. Community members in traditional Bantu cultures say
prayers for the end of misfortune by beseeching the setting sun to “sleep” with the bad
luck. The night represents evil, and activities that the people relate to bad omens are
reserved for the night. Such activities include burial of people who commit suicide or are
struck by lightning. Among some western Kenya Bantu, responding to a call by an
unknown person at night is taboo, because it is believed that it could be from an evil
spirit. The people suppose that if one responded to such a call, it would result in death or
illness in the family. Similarly, rituals that are meant to cleanse the society of impending
evil are done at night or just before dawn. In most of these cases, the west—the direction
of the sunset—is believed to be capable of arresting all evil forever. Therefore in magical
spells to ward off evil, the west, which is coincidentally the direction of Lake Victoria, is
believed to be the recipient of exorcised evil.
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Superstitions and Dreams
The link between dreams and superstitions in most of the Bantu communities of western
Kenya are the themes of death, life hereafter, and success. The people believe that
distressing dreams come from evil spirits. Dreams are considered auspicious if they are
related to common values about prosperity. Ill-omened dreams revolve around death,
which is the greatest form of evil to befall families, lineages, and clans. In death-related
dreams, people talk of having seen and eaten roast meat or seen or heard mourners and
other funeral-related experiences. People chronically predict their imminent death if they
dream about roast or raw meat on sticks (minyama khuvisala in Luhyia), or about havng
participated in meat-eating feasts. Community members abhor similar dreams even
among healthy members. However, when those who are very sick have such dreams
regularly, they are comforted by the thought of imminent death.
Among the Tiriki, Maragoli and Banyore, impending death, which is communicated
through dreams, can be averted through various rituals. If a person dreams that one of his
or her relatives is dead, he or she must look for a branch of a lisazi or elisatsi tree and
beat the relative with it. After doing this, the person expresses regret for having dreamt
that the other was dead. The people believe that this ritual prevents such a bad omen from
coming true. The Bukusu and the Maragoli seek advice from a specialist called omunyosi
or mulyuli when such dreams persist. All the Bantu groups predict looming death by
dreams in which a sick person talks of having been turned away from the land of the
ancestors by one of his or her living-dead relatives, especially by a grandparent. In this
case, it is believed that the dreamer will have a longer life than had been imagined.
Paradoxically, the Abaluhyia believe that dreams about the death of members of a social
group are not necessarily ill omens. At times, such dreams may indicate that the person
dreamt about is experiencing momentary prosperity. In such cases, the person depicted as
dead in the dream is described metaphorically as having been “too satisfied after a meal”
(yegurhe, yiguti, yakwiguta, or yigurhi).
There are also superstitions about nightmares, especially among children. People
perceive nightmares as communications from ghosts or evil spirits about unknown
misfortune. They are signs of disasters expected to befall individuals, lineages, families,
or the community as a whole, due to the neglect or offence of the living dead. Bad
dreams are therefore warnings about impending calamity meted out on human beings by
supernatural forces. People often become troubled about such dreams and seek recourse
after consultation with dream prophets, referred to as bayoti by the Bukusu. When the
prophets and other mem bers of the therapy management group believe that evil spirits
cause nightmares, they apply medicines with strong scents. These medicines are put
under the pillows of the victims. Apart from dreams, the Bantu of western Kenya also
correlate people and other organisms with omens in various ways.
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People, Animals, and Insects as Omens
Popular superstitions link the first person one meets in the morning with either good or
bad luck. If a person leaves his or her home, he or she becomes mindful of meeting a
person who represents the gender of his or her first-born child. In the traditional societies,
if they do not meet such a person, the journey would be postponed. For the Abagusii, a
person setting off on a journey or going on a special undertaking has to ask the first
person he or she meets the gender of his or her first born. If it happens to be the same as
that of the inquirers’ first-born child, it is a good omen. If the two children happen to be
of different sexes, it is a bad omen, and the person who was traveling is made aware of
the imminent bad luck. To avoid postponement of an urgent trip in such a case, one
would try to keep a safe distance from the person who symbolizes bad luck.
The same superstitions apply to encounters with people who are culturally constructed
as abnormal or ritually impure. This may include coming across nude, quarrelling, or
fighting people while pursuing important matters. The people also link bad luck and
impending failure with human behaviors such as giving or receiving gifts with the left
hand, children eating with one hand on the floor, and making faces at others. Many of the
Bantu communities in western Kenya construe meeting certain animals early in the
morning or while on important assignments as illfated. The Maragoli, for example,
believe that running into a certain type of rat (ilivegi or ulunihi), an antelope (ikisusu), a
red hawk (ikimindwa), or a squirrel (ikijemanye) are bad omens. Among the Bukusu, if
one comes across a species of big ants called nafusi it is a good omen (Wagner 1970).
Other Bantu societies in western Kenya associate the presence of bees, cockroaches, and
migrating birds with wealth and prosperity in homesteads and villages.
In popular superstitions, it is portentous for an owl to hoot near a homestead. For the
Abaluhyia, this implies that a member of the homestead or family will die soon. Driving
away the owl with a firebrand prevents this impending misfortune. The Abaluhyia also
associate bad luck with the cries of the enyiru bird and the hyena. In other Bantu
communities, people view some chance occurrences, such as repeated stumbling, as bad
omens. If one stumbles on consecutive occasions, he or she becomes anxious about an
unknown number of looming predicaments. The Wanga strongly believe that stumbling
with the left foot forecasts bad luck, while the right foot foretells good luck.
Conclusion
Bantu superstitions reflect the influence of cross-cultural interaction with neighboring
societies. Popular African superstitions are, therefore, replicated and reflected in Bantu
beliefs. The people observe outstanding auspicious and inauspicious signs in ordinary
cosmic rhythms, human physiological processes, dreams, and beliefs about times of the
day. Encounters with people, animals, and various animal sounds are also attributed to
good or bad luck due to a history of life experiences with such phenomena.
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References
Akong’a, Joshu J. 1987. Rainma king Rit u als: A Comparative study of Two Kenyan Societies. In
African Study Monographs 8, no. 2: 71–85.
Fedders, Andrew, and Cynthia Salvadori. 1998. Peoples and Cultures of Kenya. Nairobi:
TransAfrica.
Osogo, John N.B. East Africa’s People in the Past. Nairobi: Longman.
Schmidt, Phillip. 1963. Superstition and Magic. Westminster, Md.: Newman Press.
Wagner, Günter. 1970. The Bantu of Western Kenya: With Special Reference to the Vugusu and
Logoli. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
——. 1976. The Abaluhyia of Kavirondo. In African Worlds, ed. Daryll Forde. Oxford: Oxford
University Press.
Werner, Alice. 1968. Myths and Legends of the Bantu. London: Frank Cass.
BENSON A.MULEMI
See also Dreams
SUPREME BEING
See Cosmology; Religion
SURROGATE LANGUAGES:
ALTERNATIVE COMMUNICATION
A surrogate language is defined as a method for communicating through a spoken
language but by means other than speaking. In contrast with speaking, which is the
uttering of words or the articulation of sounds with the human voice, a surrogate
language involves the uttering of words or the articulation of sounds through an
alternative or surrogate voice. Through the use of instruments, a surrogate language
employs sounds that substitute for spoken words. In exceptional cases, a surrogate
language may even substitute written text (Nketia 1971, 699). Instruments that produce
surrogate languages include the “talking drum” (which may or not be an actual skinheaded membranophone), gongs, horns, the lips (for whistling), hand-made whistles, and
even guitars (Carey 1949, 74–80). These surrogate language instruments have been found
in the Republic of the Congo, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Ghana, Nigeria
(Carrington 1949, 26–29), and Cameroon (Finnegan 1970, 484).
Surrogate languages communicate actual speech by sounding out the stress and tones
of syllables. As technologies, they may be described as a cross between the telegraph and
the radio. They transmit information by being beaten, blown, strummed, or tapped upon.
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Surrogate languages differ from musical instruments. Although musical instruments
may be acoustic media, they normally communicate generalized emotions via nonverbal
signifiers, not exact linguistic terms. Surrogate languages communicate exact words.
Secondly, musical instruments usually commu nicate through melody. In comparison,
any melody produced by a surrogate language is merely a by-product of its
instrumentation, not the method through which communication occurs.
Surrogate languages “talk” by producing words, as in the case, for example, with
“talking drums” by being struck. A talking drum is capable of emitting words when it is
struck because the language being expressed is tonal. In general, spoken languages are
distinguished by three auditory characteristics: (1) vowels and consonants, (2) stress
placed on the vowels and consonants, and (3) tone or musical intonation of the vowels
and consonants. All spoken languages possess the first two characteristics, but only tonal
languages possess the third. Surrogate languages emit words because they replicate the
stress and tone of tonal languages. By “tone,” it is not meant “a tone of voice,” but rather
a phonemic tone, which is a key feature of many African languages. There is a change of
meaning with a shift from a high to a low tone on a syllable of a word. For example, in
the Twi language, spoken by the Akan people in Ghana, the use of a high note on both
letters “a” in the word papa (papa) creates the meaning “good.” In contrast, if the first “a”
is pronounced with a low note and the second with a high note (papa), its meaning is
changed to “father.” Without such tonality, which does not exist in many world
languages, such as English or French, surrogate languages would be rendered incapable
of transmitting a discernible language (Carrington 1949, 15–20).
The best-known and most widely used surrogate language instrument is popularly
called the “talking drum.” A talking drum usually designates an instrument whose
sounding occurs when its membrane is caused to vibrate; but many “talking” instruments,
such as the wooden slit gong, depend on the vibration of their whole body. Words are
ascribed meaning on such instruments by the pitch, force, rhythm, and context in which
they are sounded.
One type of talking drum is the Akan atumpan pair found in Ghana. This type of
talking drum produces surrogate speech through its use of two separate drums, each tuned
to a different pitch. A second type of drum, the double gong, works along the same lines,
emitting different pitches, in this case through the use of high and low sections. The most
frequently used instrument for such communication in Africa is a wooden slitgong. It has
one of the sides of its slit, or opening, tuned high, and the other low. The amount of force
used to beat the drum creates the distinction between the male and the female form of a
word, that is, the application of great force is associated with the male form and less force
is analogous to the female form (Carrington 1949, 23–24). Another type of membraneheaded drum is the pressure drum. An example of a pressure drum is the dundun used by
the Yoruba in Nigeria. The pressure drum “speaks,” through the exertion of pressure on
strings that hold the two drum heads together. By alternating pressure between the two
strings, both low and high tones can be emitted. Different words are sounded out by
altering the rhythm, the duration, or the configurations of beats. Long syllables are
simulated by allowing the drum to continue vibrating, whereas short syllables are
simulated if it is stopped (Nketia 1971, 717–720). “Stereotyped,” or short, phrases are
employed in order to contextualize the meaning of words that share the same stress and
tone patterns (Nketia 1971, 707).
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A drum language, like all surrogate languages, is not, however, a perfect substitute for
spoken language. Speech is slightly modi-fied by its use. The use of stereotyped phrases
greatly lengthens the message and the time necessary for its relay. An Akan drum can
only produce approximately 500 words, excluding proper names and titles (Nketia 1971,
711). As a result, some topics are difficult to communicate. The drum has a limited
capacity to conquer time because it can only be heard up to about twenty miles away. If
the destination of a message is greater than twenty miles (or, in some cases of dense
forest, only seven miles), the message must be relayed from one drummer to another
(Carrington 1949, 28–31). As a result, instantaneous communication across a greater
distance is not possible.
Surrogate languages are extremely important because they transmit special messages.
They allow for “secret” communication to occur publicly. The talking drum transmits
information “secretly” through segmented public space. Like a radio, it sends messages
that can be listened to by anyone within its range. At the same time, it can only be
understood by those who understand the language in which the message is transmitted.
Unlike radio, however, only those who can recognize the use of tones on the drum are
actually aware that messages are even being transmitted. As a result, African groups have
used the drum and other surrogate-language instruments to convey warning messages and
mobilize their people.
Africans used the talking drum as a strategic method to warn against the arrival of
slave catchers during the slave trade. Once their use became known to non-users and as a
mark of their effectiveness, slave masters in the Americas (Yankah 1997, 7) and colonial
governors in Africa (Carrington 1949, 76) outlawed their use. Despite this, black
Africans ingeniously found their way around the problem by using other instruments,
such as whistles, to communicate. For example, during the 1940s, Yakusu schoolboys in
the former Belgium Congo (present-day Democratic Republic of the Congo) secretly
warned each other that their white African schoolmasters were approaching by whistling
words (Carrington 1949, 76).
During the period of slavery in the Americas, surrogate languages were used by
African slaves to organize riots and rebellions, despite the great ethnic and linguistic
differences that existed among them (Yankah 1997, 7). Africans in the Americas had
come from a diverse array of locations and backgrounds throughout the whole of the
continent of Africa. The drum, therefore, served as an extremely powerful substitute for
language. It made communication across the plantations in the new world, otherwise
forbidden, possible. As a result, it provided African slaves with a tool to try to integrate
themselves into a new identity—that of African American.
In spite of their great legacy, use of surrogate languages has decreased (Carrington
1949, 81–85; Finnegan 1970, 408). Modern technological advances in communication
have overshadowed their traditional importance. Subsequently, new generations are less
interested in their appeal, although some contemporary musicians, such as King Sunny
Ade of Nigeria, make use of the Yoruba pressure drum.
References
Carrington, J.F. 1949. Talking Drums of Africa. London: Carey Kingsgate Press.
Finnegan, R. 1970. Oral Literature in Africa. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
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Nketia, J.H.Kwabena. 1971. Surrogate Languages of Africa. Current Trends in Linguistics 7:699–
732.
Yankah, Kwesi. 1997. Free Speech in a Traditional Society. The Cultural Foundations of
Communication in Contemporary Ghana. Accra: Ghana Universities Press.
YAEL WARSHEL
See also Linguistics and African Verbal Arts; Musical Instruments
SWAHILI
See Epics: Liongo Epics of the Swahili; Urban Folklore
SWAZI
See Queen Mother
SWAZILAND (KINGDOM OF
SWAZILAND)
Landlocked between Mozambique and South Africa, Swaziland is a small country of
984,000 people. The climate ranges from temperate to subtropical to semiarid.
Swaziland’s capital is the city of Mbabane, which is home to 46,000 people. The
population of Swaziland is predominantly African, with English and Swazi being the
most commonly spoken languages. Christians account for 60 percent of the population,
while the remaining 40 percent practice traditional religions.
The Swazi Kingdom was created in the late eighteenth century. Several conventions in
the 1880s guaranteed the kingdom’s independence, but South African continued to
control it. Not until September 6, 1968, was full independence granted. Throughout the
country’s history, Swaziland has suffered a precarious relationship with neighboring
South Africa. In the past, Swaziland was able to maintain political autonomy while
relying on economic support from South Africa. Since the end of apartheid, however, the
Swazi government has sought political support from South Africa’s new African National
Congress government.
Since independence, Swaziland has had a relatively secure economy due to the
expansion and diversification of its agricultural products. Other industries such as
tourism, mining, and paper milling, have contributed to Swaziland’s economic growth.
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Until the early 1990s, Swaziland’s economy was also aided by international investors
seeking a market comparable to that of South Africa. However, since the political
reforms in South Africa, investors are now more willing to take their business there.
Swaziland’s attraction as a center for corporate relocation has therefore been greatly
reduced.
Swaziland is renowned for its elaborate festivals. Many of these festivals take place
during the lunar month of Ncwala, which lasts from December to January. It is during
this time that the nation reaffirms its bonds with the country’s royal leaders. In addition to
ritual dancing and other festivities, the king traditionally tastes the season’s first fruits,
blesses the ancestors, and prays for rain.
JENNIFER JOYCE
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T
TABWA
See Animals in African Folklore; Central African Folklore; Prose Narratives
TAÑALA
See Madagascar; Myths: Mythology and Society in Madagascar: a Tañala Example
TANZANIA (UNITED REPUBLIC OF
TANZANIA)
Located on the coast of East Africa, Tanzania is neighbored by Kenya, Uganda, Rwanda,
Burundi, Democratic Republic of Congo, Zambia, Malawi, Mozambique, and the Indian
Ocean. Its territory includes the islands of Zanzibar and Pemba. The nation’s 33,690,000
citizens are classified as African. English and Swahili are the official languages.
Although the Swahili constitute only 8 percent of the population, over 90 percent of the
inhabitants of the country speak the language. Other commonly spoken languages
Chagga, Gogo, Ha, Haya, Luo, and Maasai. Most of the nation’s people are Christian,
Muslim, or practice traditional indigenous religions, while the Tanzanian island of
Zanzibar is predominantly Muslim. Dar es Salaam, a city of over 1.4 million people, is
the nation’s former capital and largest city; Dodoma is the new capital. Tanzania’s
climate ranges from tropical to arid to temperate. Its most famous physical feature is
Mount Kilimanjaro; at 19,340 feet it is Africa’s tallest mountain.
In the seventeenth century, local peoples and Arabs drove out the Portuguese. In 1887,
the British established a protectorate but gave it over to the Germans the next year.
Tanganyika, as it was known after the Germans lost control following World War I, was
a League of Nations mandate, managed by Britain, until 1946, when it became a UN
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trusteeship. On December 9, 1961, Tanzania gained its independence from Britain with
Dr. Julius Nyere, one of Africa’s greatest leaders, as the new president. Pemba and
Zanzibar were unified with Tanzania in 1964. In the years since independence the nation
has suffered from a deteriorating infrastructure and weak agrarian economy. A 1990
World Bank loan of $200 million, however, has improved the nation’s agricultural
marketing system. In 1995, the nation’s first multiparty elections were held, although the
nation’s Revolutionary Party (Chama Cha Mapinduzi) still maintains much control over
the government and media.
Tanzania’s natural resources include hydroelectric potential, unexploited iron and
coal, gemstones, gold, and natural gas, while the agricultural sector yields cotton, coffee,
sisal, tea, tobacco, wheat, cashews, livestock, and cloves. Principle industries include
agricultural processing, diamond mining, oil refining, shoes, cement, textiles, and wood
products. Ninety percent of the population are farmers. With twelve national game parks,
Tanzania’s economy depends heavily on tourism. One of the world’s most famous
archeology sites for human evolution, Olduvai Gorge, is located in Tanzania.
Tanzania’s government has encouraged the use of Swahili as the nation’s national
language. Through educational programs subsidized by the government, mass literacy in
Swahili has promoted the rise of a cohesive national culture. Consequently, Tanzania is
now one of Africa’s most culturally unified nations.
JENNIFER JOYCE
TELEVISION
See Electronic Media and Oral Traditions; Radio and Television Dramas; Women
Pop Singers of Mali
TEXTILE ARTS AND
COMMUNICATION
In African societies, where oral traditions take precedence over written ones, visual arts
play a vital role in their function as language. Included among these arts is that of textiles,
which is an exceptionally rich and varied medium on the sub-Saharan continent.
The cloth medium lends itself particularly well to this function. Cloth is an inherently
flat surface; thus it operates as the page onto which language and related symbols are
written, and within which varying textures and motifs are incorporated. It also has a rich
and varied “syntax.” It comes in any variety of fibers woven in any number of ways,
depending on the type of loom used. Its specific technology determines its relative size,
its overall density (whether it is loosely or tightly woven), the texture (its quality of
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smoothness or nubbiness), and its surface patterns (geometric or representational designs
achieved through a supplemental patterning system). Pattern can also be achieved by
resist-dying or painting the cloth surface (much like the page onto which a scribe applies
his script). Finally, cloth is a pliable, portable medium that can be wrapped around the
body, or cut and tailored to fit. Worn either way, the cloth functions as a kind of billboard
for the transmission of information.
Text and Textile
Cloth bears a structural parallel to language in many ways. Threads are interwoven to
produce cloth, much in the same way that words are interconnected to create syntax. Not
coincidentally, this connection is also suggested by the apparent relationship between the
words “text” and “textile,” both of which share a common root in a concept involving
building, either literally or figuratively. Language involves the building of written
symbols or sounds to communicate an idea. Similarly, weaving requires the gradual
addition of weft-threads to the warp as the process progresses. And, just as warp threads
interconnect with those of the weft, words interrelate to make up the syntax of a sentence.
The connection suggested here between language and cloth structure is particularly
pertinent to nonliterate cultures, such as those from Africa, that traditionally rely on
visual forms over written ones to communicate their ideas. The Dogon of Mali are among
a number of African cultures that readily acknowledge the existence of speech in cloth
(Calame-Griaule 1986). They would say that “to be nude (that is, without cloth) is to be
without speech.” The Dogon word for cloth, soy, even has its roots in the word so, their
word for the speech of their creator god, Nommo.
The Dogon also equate the weaving process to the nature of language, believing that
the threads on their loom interconnect to produce fabric just as words are combined to
make speech. They, like many groups throughout West Africa, weave on a horizontal,
foot-treadle loom that produces a long, narrow strip of cloth. The Dogon claim that
speech came about through weaving on such a loom. They refer to the entire loom
apparatus as so ke ru, meaning “secret speech,” and equate its individual components to
the physiology of an individual’s speech mechanism. For example, the reed is equated to
teeth, the shuttle to the tongue (because of its constant back-and-forth motion inside the
mouth) and the heddles to the uvula that rise and fall like the words themselves. Even the
creaking sound of the loom during the weaving process itself is likened to the sound of
the first manifestation of the word from the creator.
Dogon cloth design generally consists of white and indigo checks, either uniform or
varied in size. The color and design elements in the cloth carry or connote a specific
meaning. For example, the white characterizes truth and the speech of the creator god,
whereas the black refers to falsehood, obscurity, and the secret speech of male initiates.
The check designs refer to the cultivated field (which resembles such a configuration),
the white checks being fields on the plains (i.e., easy to cultivate), and the black ones
being those of the plateau, where cultivation is difficult. In sum, cloth and its production
for the Dogon is a metaphorical expression of their worldview, a view that encompasses
the dichotomies of village/bush, plant/animal, daily/ritual, male/female.
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The Dogon are not alone in equating weaving with speech. The Tukolor of Senegal
believe weaving to be an incantation directed to their mythical ancestor, Juntel Jabali.
Jabali was responsible for expelling bush spirits—once the owners of weaving—from the
loom, thus making weaving a human prerogative (Dilley 1987). Moreover, the Tukolor, a
traditionally Muslim people, say that “weaving is like praying” in the sense that both
processes must be oriented toward the east, in the direction of Mecca. The Tukolor loom
and the weaver seated at it must conceptually face in an eastern direction so as to pay
their respects to the spirit realm as they weave. The weaver even impregnates the spun
cotton with the power of words by first uttering incantations into knotted threads and then
spraying saliva on them to bind the words to the threads.
Just as the process of making cloth is equated with speech, so too are its woven
products, many of which serve as ideal forms of praise to the spirits, not unlike verbal
prayer. For example, when the Dogon priest speaks to the spirits during the formal
planting ceremony, an imitation of the checkered cloth he is wearing is painted on the
facade of the cult house as a metaphorical offering to the spirits. At the appropriate
moment he utters the following phrase, “nama of millet, enter into the drawing of Nimu’s
blanket” as if the blanket pattern could speak of fertility and continuity similar to the
incantations of the priest who wears it.
The Yoruba of Nigeria are also known to view cloth as a visual prayer. Henry Drewal
(1977) outlines the various ways that Yoruba initiates praise and honor Orinyla, the Great
Mother. As with devotees of other gods (orisha), those honoring Orinyla must make an
incision in their heads to allow the deity to enter (mount) them. In addition, the devotees
must collectively purchase a white cloth which they present as a “visual prayer to the
mother of us all.” Drewal’s reference alludes to what appears to be a common practice in
Yoruba culture of using cloth to sing the praises of individuals, whether spiritual or
human.
Such is the case among the Ijebu Yoruba (Aronson 1992). Ijebuland, located in
southeastern Yorubaland, is the center of the Oshugbo (Ogboni), a secret society whose
power derives from onile, the Earth Mother. Through privileged contact with the onile,
Oshugbo members are able to exercise spiritual, political, and judicial authority in
Yoruba society. Membership requires the wearing of certain attire ritually presented to
the initiates during the initiation process. Most notable are the figurative bronze staffs
(edan) either worn around the neck or placed in the ground when judicial decisions are
being made. Oshugbo attire also included armlets, staffs, and, for the purposes of
discussion here, textiles.
The Oshugbo cloth repertoire involves basically two pieces, a large wrapper (Iborunnla) worn toga-style and the much smaller cloth (Itagbe) worn over the shoulder.
Although different in size, each type is embellished with a complex array of weft-float
patterns that include a number of animal forms important to Oshugbo cosmology such as
the frog (ofolo), crocodile (ooni), or the mudfish (agbarieja). In addition, some of the
designs refer to speech-imitating objects such as the big drum (gbedu) and the smaller
pressure-type variety (gangan), the latter marvelously portrayed by a series of repeated
triangular marks resembling the rhythmic tapping of the stick on the drum head.
Like the patterns on it, much about the ritual use of the Itagbe cloth suggests it
functions as a visual form of prayer. One ritual involves the decorated fringe. Initiates
ordained into Oshugbo ceremonially receive an Itagbe from the king (Awujale). At this
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crucial moment in the presentation of the cloth, the tassels are lowered to the ground as
though to be invoking the earth goddess Onile. From that point, the cloth becomes the
official and privileged possession of the initiate receiving it.
Itagbe are also presented as offerings at shrines, to gain the good wishes of the spirits.
The most convincing evidence of the cloth’s prayerlike function derives from the recent
tradition of weaving itagbe with English words in place of visual imagery. The words
jebemi oluwa woven on one Itagbe documented in 1978 mean “answer my prayer,” thus
acknowledging, in this newly symbolic system, its function as a prayerlike invocation to
the spirits.
Cloth as Written Text
Just as cloth is used as a kind of surrogate for speech, it functions as a surface onto which
words and word-derived imagery are applied. Although nonliteracy is traditionally the
norm in subSaharan African, some systems of writing have prevailed, a few dating back
quite early in time. Among them are a host of indigenous writing systems, the most wellknown examples being found among the Vai, Loma, Efik, Bamum, and Kongolese. Such
systems are ritually charged forms of writing intended more for efficacy and action than
for explication of pictures or the mere recording of information. Several textile patterns,
including those on the mud-painted cloths (bokolanfini) of the Bamana of Mali, may be
inspired by such script, as Sarah C. Brett-Smith (1984) has suggested.
An even more influential form of writing, as far as textiles are concerned, is Islamic
script, which may be among the earliest forms introduced to sub-Saharan region. Exactly
how early Islamic script appeared in sub-Saharan Africa is uncertain. But, recognizing
the vital role that Islamic script serves in promoting Islam (for one must learn to read and
recite the scriptures to become one with Allah) it may have appeared as early as the
eighth century C.E., when Islam first reached sub-Saharan African soil.
Scholars of Islam have noted that the Quran differs from the Bible in that it does not
narrate stories about God but is the actual speech of Allah himself. Therefore, to be
reciting passages of the Quran is to be appropriating and uttering Allah’s very words,
with all the potency and eloquence that they carry. Likewise, the written version of
Allah’s sacred speech serves as an ideal if not honorable form of artistic embellishment,
again as an embodiment of Allah’s speech more than a mere reference to it.
Islamic traditions throughout North Africa produce cloths with words encoded in
them. One North African type, called tiraz, has prayers or praises to rulers woven into the
cloth itself. Indeed, in some cultures, such as those of Algeria, the very name for weaver
(reggam) has its roots in a word meaning to write. The suggestion from all of this is that
cloth serves as an important carrier of Allah’s speech. Along with the advent of Islam
into West Africa came an influx of Quranic-inscribed protective garments and other
forms of body adornment bearing Quranic script. Evidence of this is seen in the vast array
of garments and other forms of body adornment which bear Quranic writing as a form of
protection.
The amulet charm serves as a useful introduction to the topic of the wearing of ritual
script. Traditional African charms (of non-Islamic origin) can be made up of natural
substances (bones, horns, or other medicinal materials) that are tightly if not elegantly
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bound together. However, the charms of Islamic inspiration will often contain Islamicderived script written on paper by a marabout or other bearer of Islamic ritual knowledge.
To be worn, the substances are inserted into leather-tooled or metal encasements and then
worn around the neck or at other areas of the body.
When opened, these amulets reveal what Labelle Prussin calls “magical square
constructions” (1986, 75) in either a uniform checkerboard design or in squares with a
pronounced centralized element. Whatever the specific configuration, the images can be
read as conceptualized models of the universe, with Allah at the center. They are believed
to enhance the mystical powers of the written prayers they enclose.
The aesthetic of a number of textiles from West Africa draws its influence from these
charm motifs. To cite one example, it is seen on much West African strip weaving,
particularly in the areas where Islam is pervasive. Common designs for strip-woven
coverlets from Islamized regions of West Africa often bear either a checkerboard or an
overall grid design with a centralized element not unlike the magical square
configurations on charms.
Cloth as Proverb
Proverbs can be defined as short, poetic axioms of truth, or wisdom often characterized
by their sharp wit, sarcasm, humor, or rhetoric. In sub-Saharan Africa, where proverbial
speech is a highly developed art form, it can be used to embellish all types of speech,
from oratory to everyday conversation. Furthermore, the number of proverbs in any one
culture can number four thousand or more. Given the importance of proverbial speech
throughout sub-Saharan Africa, it is not surprising that it should make its appearance on
cloth, particularly through the recent introduction of roman script.
However, it is not only through the writing of proverbs on the cloth surface that
proverbial speech is transmitted. Before the introduction of Western-influenced writing,
and even in the present, certain African cultures have relied on the cloth designs
themselves to communicate proverbial thought. This is particularly true of Akan speakers
of Ghana and Cote d’Ivoire.
It has long been known that the woven patterns on Kente, the famous royal cloth of the
Ashanti, can often have proverbial meaning. One particular Kente design bears the
proverb, “There is fire between the two factions of Oyoko clan,” a reference to the civil
war that ensued over the subsequent heir to the throne after the death of the first Ashanti
ruler, Osei Tutu, in 1731. A sense of conflict is created by the clash of colors and
patterns, the two background colors of the cloth representing those of the two battling
clans.
The Akan-speaking Agni of Cote d’Ivoire, like many African cultures, now favor
factory-printed cloths over locally woven ones for daily and even ceremonial use. Susan
Domowitz, in particular, has done significant research emphasizing the rich proverbial
meaning that even these cloths can carry (Domowitz 1992). For the Agni, the patterns on
factory cloth bear social messages intended for someone else to read. For example, a
cloth with brown and white abstract patterns addresses the conflicts among cowives
under such a marital arrangement. Its proverb is as follows: “Cowife rivalry is like cow
dung” (meaning that it looks fine on the outside but sticky on the inside).
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Domowitz notes that cloth designs are selected very often for the proverbial speech
that they communicate, rather than for their colors and patterns. One woman who had
recently ended a disastrous marriage selected a cloth with cornstalk patterns because of
the appropriate proverb that pattern would elicit. The proverb read, “Men are not like
corn” (meaning if they were corn, one could pull off the husks and examine the interior
kernels before buying them).
One could say that factory cloths for the Agni function like certain aspects of
language. The linguist Ferdinand de Saussure (1966) identifies what he calls the quality
of “mutability,” by which he means that the linguistic sign, being dependent on a rational
principle, is arbitrary and can be organized at will. This suggests that linguistic signs
change their meaning over space and time. Similarly, we see that the proverbial cloth
messages shift in meaning relative to the context in which they operate. For example,
when a divorced Agni man saw his new lover wearing a cloth with a spider motif, he
immediately thought of the proverb, “What one does to cendaa (a small harmless spider),
one does not do to bokohulu” (a large spider considered dangerous), for him a grim
reminder that he should not be unfaithful to her, as he had been to his former wife. In
other words, it was his experiences from the past, combined with circumstances of the
present, that gave meaning to the cloth design. Were she to have worn her spider cloth in
the presence of neighboring Akan groups, they might have gleaned very different
proverbs from the designs.
This essay has highlighted a number of ways in which African textiles encode thought
and speech. It is only the beginning of a potentially rich exploration into the ways in
which textiles in Africa can be, and are, used as language.
References
Aronson, Lisa. 1992. Ijebu Yoruba Aso Olona: A Contextual and Historical Overview. African Arts
25:52–63, 101.
——. 1995. Threads of Thought: African Cloth as Language. In African and African-American
Sensibility, ed. Michael W.Coy, Jr. and Leonard Plotnikov. Pittsburgh: Dept. of Anthropology,
University of Pittsburgh.
Brett-Smith, Sarah, C. 1984. Speech Made Visible: The Irregular as a System of Meaning.
Empirical Studies of the Arts 2:127–47.
Calame-Griaule, G. 1986. Words and the Dogon World, Philadelphia.
Dilley, R. 1987. Myth and Meaning in the Tukulor Loom. Man 22: 256–66.
Domowitz, Susan 1992. Wearing Proverbs: Anyi Names for Printed Factory Cloths. African Arts
25:82–7.
Drewal, H. 1977. Art and the Perception of Women in Yoruba Culture. Cahiers d’Études
Africaines 17:545–67.
Prussin, L. 1986. Hatumere: Islamic Design in West Africa. Berkeley.
Saussure, Fredinand de. 1966. Course in General Linguistics. New York.
LISA ARONSON
See also Body Arts; Gender Representation in African Folklore; Nsibidi;
Proverbs
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920
TEXTILES: AFRICAN AMERICAN
QUILTS, TEXTILES, AND CLOTH
CHARMS
Some African American quilts are the visual equivalent of jazz or blues, rich with color
and symbolism. Characterized by strips, bright colors, large designs, asymmetry, multiple
patters, improvisations, and symbolic forms, these African American quilts have their
roots in African textile technique and cultural traditions.
The antecedents of contemporary African textiles and African American quilts
developed in Africa as long as two thousand years ago when cotton was domesticated
along the Niger River in Mali, where it was used for fish nets and woven cloth.
The actual links between African and African American textile traditions were forged
between 1650 and 1850, when Africans were brought to Latin America and the United
States. It is possible to trace African textile techniques, aesthetic traditions, and religious
symbols that were adapted by African American textile innovators to the needs and
resources of the new world.
Four African civilizations had profound influences on African American folk arts: the
Mande-speaking peoples of West Africa (the modern countries of Guinea, Mali, Senegal,
and Burkino Faso), the Yoruba and Fon peoples from the Republic of Benin and Nigeria,
the Ejagham peoples of Nigeria and Cameroon, and the Kongo and Kongo-influenced
peoples of Zaire and Angola.
African American quilts are unique, resulting from the creolization of various African,
Native American, and European traditions that took place in Brazil, Surinam, Haiti,
Cuba, other Caribbean island, Mexico, and the southern United States. Although men had
traditionally been the primary textile artists in Africa, American plantation owners
adhered to the European system of labor division. Thus African women became the
principle weavers, seamstresses, and quilters in southern society in the United States.
African American women produced utilitarian and decorative quilts for both African
and white households. Many of their quilts were done in what we think of as traditional
Anglo-American styles, even though some of these styles were adapted from traditional
African designs. However, some quilts made for personal, often utilitarian, uses by
African Americans were designed and stitched with definite African traditions in mind.
Thus African American women preserved many African textile traditions and passed
them on from generation to generation over several hundred years. Because
improvisation is basic to many African aesthetic traditions, this African American
heritage is not static. Each generation—indeed each quilter—is free to borrow from other
traditions and add elements from his or her own cultural history.
Many contemporary African American quilters are unaware of the continuities
between African textiles and their quilt de-signs, but the designs and symbolic
similarities are so striking as to prompt some historical explanation. In examining the
African history underlying certain African American quilt traditions, we can look at three
aspects: technological similarities, the religious symbols in writing systems, and charm
traditions.
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Technological Traditions
Strips
The use of strips is a chief construction technique, a dominant design element, and
symbolic form in West African, Caribbean, and African American textiles. Beginning in
the eleventh century, most cloth in West Africa had been constructed from strips woven
on small portable men’s looms. These long, narrow strips, once used as a form of
currency, are woven plain or with patterns. Some strips are lightly tacked together, so as
to allow air through while hung up as screens. The Tuareg use such cloths as tent
hangings. Woven strips are sometimes sewn together into larger fabrics to be worn as
clothing or displayed as wall hangings and banners.
Blue and white designs, as in the earliest cloths, are still made with domestic cotton
and dyed blue from a native indigo plant. Later, more colorful fabrics were made by
unraveling European cloth and reweaving the bright colors, African-style. Nadsuaso
cloth, made by the Asante weavers in Ghana, is the best known of the colorful West
African textiles. It was once made from silk, but had been made with rayon since about
1946.
A new preference for strip textiles continued in the New World. In Surinam, African
women continued African textile traditions when they ran away from plantations to
Maroon societies in the Surinam rainforest. Both Djuka and Saramaka women continued
to cut strips from imported commercial cloth, and save the strips until they wanted to
make an African style of cape for their men, called aseésènte. They then sewed the strips
together in an aesthetic fashion, the aesthetic being determined by conversation among
various women.
While men did most of the weaving in Africa, in all probability it was women who
most often created textiles in the New World, and it was women who maintained strip
aesthetic. West African women who came to the United States would have remembered
West African cloth made from narrow strips sewn together. Some strips quilts made from
blue denim scraps are called “Blue Jean quilts” by African Americans and “Britchy
quilts” by white people. Many strip quilts are made from the smallest usable rectangles of
cloth, called “strings.” Many African American quilters speak of “strips quilts,” “to strip
a quilt,” and of how strips bring out the design.
Large Shapes, Strong Colors
Large shapes and strong contrasting colors, such as the indigo blue and white found in
historic and contemporary West African cloth, insure the pattern in a cloth is
recognizable from a distance and in strong sunlight. It can be important to recognize
patterns from a distance if one needs to give a proper greeting to someone.
Important people wear cloth with complex patterns and more color. Because colors are
prestigious in cloth, Africans eventually imported European cloth so as to unravel it and
reweave the colored threads into their own bold cloth. African American women in
Surinam value strong colors in their pieced textiles. They say that the colors should
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922
“shine” or “burn” and that the color of one piece should “lift up” the one next to it—that
is, provide strong contrast.
Many African American quilters, when discussing their use of bright colors, explain
that they look for maximum contrast when piecing scraps together. Often scraps are
pieced together as they come out of a bag or box, with last-minute decisions as to
whether the pieces show up well next to each other. A Mississippi quilter, Pecolia
Warner, speaks of colors which must “hit” each other right, and of “whooping” together
contrasting colors.
Asymmetry
In West Africa, when woven strips with patterns are sewn together to make a larger
fabric, the resulting cloth may have asymmetrical and unpredictable designs. “Off beat”
patters are one option in West and Central African fabrics. When strips are sewn together,
the colored or patterned weft blocks are staggered in relation to those in other strips. Roy
Sieber has noted that “the careful matching of the ends of the cloth dispels the impression
of an uncalculated overall design.”
Women’s Weave
African women also weave, but on wide stationary looms in their homes where they cook
and care for children. “Women’s weave” features wide panels with vertical designs that
may look, from a distance, like the strips of the older “men’s weave.” While “men’s
weave” is abundant and sold commercially, “women’s weave” is more for personal use.
African wide-loom weaving frequently features asymmetrical alignments. Wide-loom
weaving was also once done by black women in the United States, the same women who
made quilts and probably transmitted and preserved African textile traditions.
Improvisation
Asymmetrical arrangements of cloth are a form of improvisation, found in West and
Central African textiles. Kongo people praise talented expressions of sound and vision
with the phrase, veti dikita, meaning the mind plays the pattern strongly. Improvisation,
break-patterning, or flexible patterning in Kuba raffia cloth and painted Mbuti textiles has
also been linked to spirit possession. The Kongo scholar Fu-Kiau Bunseki says, “every
time there is a break in pattern (it) is the rebirth of (ancestral) power in you.”
African American quilters often adapt what we think of as traditional EuropeanAmerican quilt patterns, and “African-Americanize” them by establishing a pattern in one
square and varying it in size, arrangement, and color in successive squares. Their use of
lines, designs, and colors varies with a persistence that goes beyond a possible lack of
cloth in any particular size, color, or pattern.
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Multiple Patterning
Improvisation, as seen in asymmetrical textiles, shades into multiple patterning, also
described as flexible patterning. Improvisation and multiple patterning form another
aesthetic tradition shared by the people who made African American quilts. Multiple
patterns are important in African royal and priestly fabrics, for the number and
complexity of patterns in a fabric increase in accordance with owner’s status. Cloth
woven for priests and kings may feature various woven patterns within each strip, as well
as a variety of strips each featuring a different pattern. Multi-ple patterned cloth
communicates the prestige, power, and wealth of the wearer, for only the well educated
and the wealthy can name the different patterns and afford to pay master weavers.
African cloth thus has social and political significance, for it is worn and displayed as
an indicator of wealth, occupation, social status, and history. Robert Farris Thompson
(1983) has suggested that certain West African asymmetrical and multiplepatterned strip
cloths have more than an aesthetic function: the complex designs serve to keep the evil
spirits away, because “evil travels in straight lines.” If the patterns do not line up easily,
the belief is that evil spirits will be confused and slowed down. Thus some textiles
become protective.
Contemporary African American quilts often are made with four different patterns in
four large corners. Plummer T.Pettway of rural Alabama believes that many different
patterns and shapes make the best quilts. “You can’t match them. No. It takes all kind of
pieces to piece a quilt.”
Many contemporary African American quilts may not communicate an owner’s status
or religious identification, but they do retain an African aesthetic preferences for
improvisation, for variations on a theme, and for multiple patterns. Improvisation and
multiple patterning are also protective, for copying is impossible. Although ostensibly
reproducing European-American patterns, many African American quilters maintain
African principles of asymmetry, improvisation, multiple patterning, and unpredictable
rhythms and tensions similar to those found in other African American arts, such as jazz.
Appliqué Traditions
Besides piecing, in which strip patterns may dominate, another basic quilt top
construction technique known in Europe, Africa, and the United States is appliqué, the art
of sewing cut-out shapes onto a surface. While European-American appliqué quilts are
primarily decorative, African American appliqué quilts often express stories and ideas in
the same manner as appliqué textiles do in Africa.
With bold appliqué shapes, African cultures recorded court histories, religious values,
and personal histories of famous individuals, using designs symbolizing power, skill,
leadership, wisdom, courage, balance, composure, and other personal and religious
qualities. The best-known African appliqué cloth was made by the Fon people of the
Republic of Benin (formerly Dahomey).
In the nineteenth century, Fon appliqué banners were made by a guild of male artisans
to decorate the walls of the royal palace and to depict historical events. The technique
was similarly used to decorate royal umbrellas, flags, costumes, and banners.
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African American appliqué quilts often mirror the diverse influences that shape the
lives of black women in the United States. Contemporary African American quilters
appliqué quilts with shapes drawn from their imaginations, from black culture and from
popular American culture shaped by magazines, television, and advertising. Some
women cut out magazines illustrations and reproduce them in cloth. Others are inspired
by animal pictures and search for appropriate animal like fuzzy materials; a few make
paper templates from dreamed designs; and some (like Pearl Posey and Sarah Mary
Taylor) use people or doll forms, as well as hands.
Protective African Scripts
In Africa, among the Mande, Fon, Ejagham, Yoruba, Kongo, and other cultures
indigenous and imported writing is associated with knowledge, power, and intelligence,
and thus is considered sacred and protective.
Various African graphic systems were designed in precolonial times to express and
transmit ideas or to convey messages. Some use pictures or pictograms; others use
ideograms or ideographs to represent ideas and other phonological (syllabic,
hieroglyphic, or phonemic): based on language and sounds. African graphic signs were
painted or drawn on the ground or on buildings; sewn, dyed, painted, or woven into cloth;
and Central African artifacts were often read as aspects of a Kongo religious cosmogram.
In West Africa, Bamana women paint cloth, called Bogolan-fini (which has been
woven by men on a narrow loom and then sewn into fabrics) with designs similar to a
syllabary invented by the Vai people in the nineteenth century but a syllabary which is
thought to have much older precedents. Bogolanfini fabrics are used for women’s
wrapper-skirts and protective clothing for hunters. Bamana women coded, in
discretionary irregularities of design, ideas too serious to speak of directly.
Many West African peoples encase little scraps of religious writing (from the Bible,
the Quran, or indigenous writing) in protective charms covered with cloth, leather, or
metal, which are worn around the neck or sewn to cloth gowns, quilted war shirts, and
quilted horse armor.
In Nigeria, the Ejagham people are known for their four hundred-year old writing
system, called Nsibidi. It was most likely invented by women since you see it in their
body painting and tattoos, and on their Nimm secret society buildings and ritual fans,
calabashes, stools, skin-covered masks, textiles, and woven, dyed, and pieced costumes
made for the men’s Ngbe (Leopard) secret society. For the Ejagham, the leopard is the
symbol of power, intelligence, and cool leadership. Ejagham women make woven
costumes and resist-dyed appliqué cloths featuring checks, triangles, and other Nsibidi
signs. These textiles are worn by dancers or hang in shrines.
Ejagham men make stools and skin-covered masks decorated with Nsibidi signs
learned from the women. Six hundred and ninety Nsibidi symbols are known. Light and
dark triangles or squares represent leopard spots; intersecting arcs represent love or
marriage. Arcs separated by a line stand for divorce. A circle bisected with a cross, with a
small circle in each quadrant, represents the Ejagham belief in spiritual as well as
physical vision.
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Central African peoples, influenced by the religion of the Kongo people, practiced a
healing, curing religion, promoted by priests who used symbolic art forms related to the
Kongo cosmogram, a circle, or a diamond with four points representing birth, life, death,
and rebirth in the world of the ancestors under the sea. The top of the circle can be
considered the noontime of life, the peak of power and potential. Its opposite, the midnight sun at the bottom, represents the power and position of the ancestors below the sea.
To the left is the position of dusk, death, and transition from the land of the living to the
watery world of the ancestors. To the right is the position of the rising sun, or birth. The
horizontal axis represents the transition between air and water. The Kongo priest draws
the cosmogram on the earth, and Kongo and related peoples bury their dead chiefs in red
cloth mummies, often decorated with the sign of the cosmogram. Images like these red
mummies appear in African-Latin America arts, in Vodun dolls in the United States, and
in African American quilts.
New World Scripts
In the New World, various mixtures of West African (Vai, Fon) and Nigerian (Nsibidi)
scripts, the Yoruba concept of a crossroads, and the Kongo cosmogram, fuse to create
numerous new scripts, which are seen on folk arts, including textiles. African-Brazilian
signs, called marked “Points” (pontos riscados, or points drawn) can be found in ground
paintings, and on textiles for the Yoruba gods.
In Surinam the Maroon ideographic system, called Afaka, is embroidered by women
onto loincloths and capes for their men, and painted by men onto houses and paddles, as
well as carved on stools and houseparts.
Cuban Anaforuana signs are seen on contemporary banners that often feature four
eyes for real and for spiritual vision, and in the reappearance of the men’s secret society
costume featuring Nsibidi checks to represent leopard’s spots and power. Similar
costumes are now seen in Miami, and some of these signs continue in African American
quilt top designs.
Haitian ideographic signs, called Veve, derive from a mixture of Fon, Yoruba,
Ejagham, and Kongo traditions. People from all these cultures were taken to Haiti in the
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and gradually their religions and their graphic
forms merged with Catholicism into the Vodun religion. In Haitian art we see the
reappearance of the Kongo cosmogram, in textiles, groundpainting, cut steel sculptures,
and in paintings depicting marriages, ceremonies, life, death, the watery ancestral world,
and the rebirth of souls.
African American Signs
After Haitian independence in 1804, many free Africans came to New Orleans, and the
Vodun religion spread throughout the United States’ south. Vestiges of African American
protective writing traditions, often incorporating Masonic symbols also, occur in African
American folk arts. As in Brazil, Cuba, Haiti, and Surinam, African American use
symbols on many levels. On one level symbols can be explained as Christian or Masonic,
African folklore
926
while on another level, the same symbols have deeper African meanings revealed only
under special circumstances, to special people.
It was the manipulation of secret symbols, Prince Hall Masonic symbols, by African
American secret society members, which contributed to the success of the American
Underground Railway. Gladys-Marie Fry (1990) writes that quilts were used to send
messages through the underground railroad. Log Cabin Quilts made with black cloth
were hung on a line to indicate a safe house of refuge. Joyce Scott reports that “My
mother was told that slaves would work out a quilt, piece by piece, field by field, until
they had an actual map, an escape route. And they used the map to find out how to get off
the plantation.”
Protective Writing
Writing continued to have protective symbolism in African American culture, even when
the writing was in English. Newsprint has been placed on the walls of southern homes,
and in shoes as well, partly for protection against the weather, but in African American
homes, to protect against evil enslaving spirits, in the belief that “evil spirits would have
to stop and read the words of each chopped up column” before they could do any harm.
This concept derives from the African American practice of leaving a Bible open at night
so that the power of religious words would protect a family.
Checks
Checks are another popular old African American quilt top pattern remembered from
early childhood. Checked designs can be made from the smallest scraps, and also allow
for maximum contrast between squares without elaborate preplanning. Checked designs
are transformed into the popular “Nine-Patch” block design also often seen in AngloAmerican quilt-making traditions. Perhaps the ancestors of some African American
quilters adopted “Nine-Patch” and other checked and triangular patterns, like “Wild
Goose Chase,” because they resembled the nine-square patterns of West African
weaving, the Nigerian leopard society resist cloths, or the checked designs so often seen
in Kuba raffia cloth.
Crosses
Crosslike patterns also occur frequently in African-American quilts. Although now
interpreted as Christian crosses, they could once have been adopted because of a
resemblance to the Yoruba belief in sacred crossroads, or the Kongo symbol for the four
points of the sun. Circular designs, like crosses, may have once been a means for
remembering the Kongo cosmogram. A Pinwheel pattern evokes the circular nature of
the cosmogram, the rebirth of souls into the bodies of grandchildren. A Wheel quilt and a
Double Wedding Ring quilt could have the same function.
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Contemporary quilters do not speak openly of quilts as protective coverings or as
confusing to evil spirits, but their aesthetic choices do imply traditions that once had
protective significance, and that may well show a continuation of protective African
ideographs.
Protective Charms
Various African traditions of healing or protective charms also experience a renaissance
in African American visual arts in the New World, including African American quilt
patterns. As these protective concepts were retained in the New World, the took different
forms and different meanings, partly because ideas from West and Central African fused
and then further creolized with Native American and European ideas, and because of new
cultural environments.
Charms are made in Africa or the New World by men, women, priests, priestesses,
spirit-diviners, and folk artists on commission from clients with political, personal,
physical, emotional, or religious problems. Priests and priestesses make charms to suit
needs so each charm is different; each is an improvised solution to an individual need.
Some are more protective; others are to heal. Charms are accumulated arts; arts made
with magical ingredients, on the inside or the outside. Beads, buttons, coins, claws,
feathers, and shells are attached to cloth and costumes to imbue them with protective
powers.
West African Charms
In West Africa, there is a tradition of enclosing writing in charms because writing is
considered protective due to its inherent knowledge. These small square packets, often
red leather, cloth or metal, enclosing script, are worn around the neck and sewn on
hunting, religious, and war costumes as protection against evil spirits. The Tuareg
peoples enclose charms in intricate leather and metal designs. Textiles are key a
ingredient in making charms, whether made in Africa or the New World.
Kongo Minkisi
In Central Africa, the Kongo Minkisi, the medicines of God, appear in numerous forms
usually activated by reciting verbs of action, to conjure the powers that ancestors had to
make charms work. Minkisi medicines fall into two classes: spirit-embodying materials
such as shells, graveyard earth, and clay and spiritdirecting medicines such as animal
claws. Northern Kongo people often asked Mbute experts to make famed good luck
charms for hunters and athletes.
Ceramic vessels with liquid medicines were an early type of Kongo charm, as were
Kongo graves with symbolic objects-references to the watery world of the ancestors.
Cloth forms, usually red, could be tied at the neck, with feathers at the top. The ultimate
charms were large cloth figures, wrapped in red blankets, “used to transport the smoke-
African folklore
928
mummified bodies of the most important persons from this world to the next,” and often
protected with the cosmogram sign to insure the prosperity of the Kongo nation. A
wooden charm often took a human or animal shape, with a hollow in the center for the
magical curing substances. This cavity was sealed with glass, a shell, mica, or a mirror,
all references to the watery land of the Kongo ancestors. Nails were sometimes used to
activate these wooden charms.
New World Charms
When African charm traditions were transplanted to the New World, they took on
different forms and different meanings, partly because ideas from West and Central
Africa fused and then further creolized with American Indian and European ideas, and
partly because of new cultural environments.
African-Brazilian charms for love and war called ponto de seguar (securing points)
are small cloth containers designed to stop a spirit or attract a person. They are sealed
with tight crisscrossing cords. Protective charms also take the form of wooden hands,
called figas. Some are large while small ones are often attached to a necklace.
In Surinam, numerous charms, called Obia, are used to protect, warn, and heal
members of secret societies. Other specially prepared necklaces, armbands, and belts
were worn for protection against sickness and evil spirits.
In African-Cuban cultures one finds beaded charms, tied charms, and pots with
cosmogram-like signs and magical ingredients. Many African-Cuban examples are now
appearing in Miami.
Pacquet Kongo
In Haiti, the Kongo cloth charms are still very much alive in the form of pacquets kongo,
small tightly wound charms, enclosed in cloth, with arms, beads around the neck,
ribbons, and sequins. Some have earrings or lace ruffles and are meant to represent
female spirits. Maya Deren noted that “Pacquets Congo…are bound as magical
safeguards…efficiency depends on the technique of careful wrapping (the idea being to
enclose the soul well, so as to keep it from evil).”
Vodun dolls
In the United States, these African and African-Caribbean cloth charm traditions evolve
into several new forms. One is the Vodun doll, which can be traced back from New
Orleans, to the Haitian Pacquet Congo, Kongo red mummies, Kongo wooden Minkisi
with nails, and other Kongo cloth charms. One also sees these spirit figures in
contemporary African American folk paintings.
For some quilters, the protective symbolism of Vodun dolls may have been forgotten
but they continue to use the form in new ways. Sarah Mary Taylor and her mother Pearl
Posey’s appliqué designs feature red figures reminiscent of Vodun dolls, on quilts and
African Americans
929
pillows. They name their patterns “Men,” “Dolly Dingle Dolls,” “Cowboys,” “Man with
Two Dogs,” and “Fashionable Ladies.”
Mojo
The African American term Mojo refers to a hex or spell, healing medicine, and the
charm or amulet used to lift a spell or protect one from evil forces, as in the folksong
“Got My Mojo Working,” popularized by the blues singer Muddy Waters. A small square
red African American cloth charm called a Mojo, or a Hand (in the sense that a charm is
a helping hand), fuses West African and Central African charm concepts. Zora Neal
Hurston (1931) collected this information about a “hand”:
Take a piece of the fig leaf, sycamore bark, John de Conquer root, John de
Conquer vine, three paradise seeds. Take a piece of paper and draw a
square and let the party write his wishes. Begin, “I want to be successful
in all my undertakings.” Then cut the paper from around the square and let
him tear it up fine and throw it in from of the business place or house or
wherever he wants. Put the square in the “hand” and sew it all up in red
flannel. Sew with a strong thread and when seams are closed, pass the
thread back and forth through the bag ‘til all the thread is used up. To
pour on “hand:” oil of anise, oil of rose geranium, violet perfume, oil of
lavender, verbena, bay rum. “Hand must be renewed every six months.”
During the Civil War, triangles in a quilt design signified prayer messages or a prayer
badge, a way of offering a prayer, or asking for protection. Many African American
quilters prefer patterns, such as the “Nine Patch,” or the “Log Cabin,” which incorporate
small red squares to look like a Mojo. Some are decorative; others may be allusions to
protective charms.
African American quilts have been described as protective baffles to guard loved ones
in the night. We are just beginning to examine the many ways in which African American
artist use textiles to protect, heal, and encode ideas.
Conclusions
African American quilt patterns involve aesthetic decisions, but many of those aesthetic
choices derive from rich cultural tradi-tions. In their choice of techniques, textiles, forms,
design names, and colors, African American quilters perpetuate African techniques and
cloth forms. Strip quilts reflect the strong West African textile traditions that are also
evident in African-Caribbean fabrics. Many quilt patterns may have been chosen because
they awakened a memory of ceremonial textiles.
If only one or two African forms occurred in African American quilts, it could be
coincidental. But the numerous instances of similar forms, and sometimes similar
meanings, is evidence of a cultural heritage that is stronger than any one lineage. Like
many other African American folk artists, quilters are inspired by dreams. Not the dreams
African folklore
930
of idiosyncratic artists, quilters’ dreams, like those of other folk artists, revive visual
imagery from the culture of their childhood. Their dreams are culturally conditioned.
African American folk artists have often been labeled idiosyncratic because they do
not always know, or care to explain, the African traditions that shape their visions,
dreams, and arts. African men and women remembered African artists techniques and
traditions when they came to the New World. They mixed and sorted their own traditions,
then combined them with European-American and Native American ideas to create their
unique creolized arts. Their combined ideas were passed down from generation to
generation, thus preserving many African art traditions, even when unspoken.
Some well-known quilt patterns may have been adapted by African Americans
because they resemble important ideas in African religions. Some Anglo American
pattern names such as Flying Geese, Rocky Road to California, and Drunkards Path are
indicative of action; while forms such as in Bears Paw, imply action, as in Kongo charms.
In Kongo religion, it is important to activate a charm to make it work, and words are
often part of the process. Certain “Anglo” patterns may appeal to African-American
quilters for numerous historic cultural reasons, visual and verbal.
Improvisation
Most ideas highly valued by cultures are encoded in many forms. Such seems to be the
case with African protective religious ideas which have been encoded into visual arts,
songs, dance, and black speech in Africa and the New World. All these forms recognize
improvisation as a style; and many refer to West African and Central African religious
concepts that survive in contemporary African American cultures because they have been
encoded so many ways. The redundancy indicates high value and insures survivability.
This article attempts to explain the survival and transformation of African writing and
charm traditions in one form, African American quiltmaking. The evidence is equally
rich, powerful, and eloquent for continuities between African writing and charm
traditions in African American architecture, ceramics, painting, sculpture and
environments.
The African American Art Quilt
In recent years, African American quilt making has evolved in a new direction. Jesse
Lane, Faith Ringold, Wini McQueen, Joyce Scott, and others have drawn on traditional
folk designs for inspiration in creating their fine arts. These are trained artists who are
proud of their mothers’ arts, proud of family heirlooms, and they chose to build on family
cultural traditions in creating contemporary arts.
African American folk arts provide evidence that American folk arts are not naive,
primitive, or simplistic. African American arts are unique in America, fusing various
international traditions to produce new ones.
African American artists maintaining this creolized aesthetic demonstrate the power
and vision of African cultural traditions in contemporary American society, affirming the
extraordinary tenacity of African religious ideas over hundreds of years.
African Americans
931
References
Benberry, Cuesta. 1992. Always There: The African-American Presence in American Quilts.
Louisville: The Kentucky Quilt Project.
Dorsey, Frances. 1991. For John Cox’s Daughter. Ann Arbor: The Jean Paul Slusser Gallery,
University of Michigan School of Art.
Ferris, William, ed. 1983. Afro-American Folk Arts and Crafts. Boston: Hall.
Fry, Gladys-Marie. 1990. Stitched From the Soul: Slave Quilts from the Anti-Bellum South. New
York: The Museum of American Folk Art and Dutton Studio Books.
Grudin, Eva Ungar. 1990. Stitching Memories: African American Story Quilts. Williamstown,
Mass.: William College Museum of Art.
Hurston, Zora Neal. 1931. Hoodoo in America. Journal of American Folklore 44:414.
Leon, Eli. 1987. Who’d a Thought it, Improvisation in African American Quiltmaking. San
Francisco: San Francisco Craft & Folk Art Museum.
——. 1992. Models in the Mind. African Prototypes in American Patchwork. Winston-Salem,
N.C.: Winston-Salem State University.
Thompson, Robert Ferris. 1983. Flash of the Spirit: African and Afro-American Art and
Philosophy. New York: Random House.
Vlach, John Michael. 1978. The Afro-American Tradition in the Decorative Arts. Cleveland: The
Cleveland Museum of Art.
Wahlman, Maude Southwell. 1974. Contemporary African Arts. Chicago: The Field Museum.
——. (with John Scully) 1980. Black Quilters. New Haven: Yale Art and Architecture Gallery.
——. 1980. The Art of Afro-American Quiltmaking: Origins, Development, and Significance.
Ph.D. dissertation, Yale University.
——. 1981. Afro-American Quilt Aesthetics. In Something to Keep You Warm, ed. Patti Carr
Black. Jackson: The Mississippi Department of Archives and History.
——. 1983. Ten Afro-American Quilters. University, Miss.: The Center for the Study of Southern
Culture.
——. (with John Scully) 1983. Aesthetic Principles in Afro-American Quilts. In Afro-American
Folk Arts and Crafts, ed. William Ferris. Boston: Hall.
——. 1986. African Symbolism in Afro-American Quilts. African Arts 20, no. 1.
——. 1989a. African-American Quilts: Tracing the Aesthetic Principles. The Clarion 14, no. 2:44–
54.
——. 1989b. Religious Symbolism in African-American Quilts. The Clarion 14, no. 3 36–43.
——. 1993. Signs and Symbols: African Images in African-American Quilts. N.Y.: Penguin.
MAUDE SOUTHWELL WAHLMAN
See also Diaspora; Textile Arts and Communication; Vodou
THEATER
See Drama: Anang Ibibio Traditional Drama; Festivals: Mutomboko Festival of the
Lunda
African folklore
932
THEATER: AFRICAN POPULAR
THEATER
African popular theater is a contested but useful term that critics have applied in many
contexts. This survey takes a broad definition, which incorporates mimetic performances
involving some portrayal of character and an explicit or implicit narrative, presented to an
audience that is representative of the majority, rather than elite groups in a community.
Despite authorative suggestions that drama in the European sense of the term is
virtually unknown in precolonial Africa (Finnegan 1970, 516), there is broad consensus
that scriptless theater or paradramatic oral performances were very widespread in the
precolonial era. Indeed, European drama may have had an African origin in the Osiris
mysteries of first millenium Phaeronic Egypt, which transferred to Greece through
Orientalist cults.
A useful categorization of African popular theater can be based on a simple diachronic
periodization into pre- and postcolonial eras. This, however, is rather misleading. Arabic
domination of indigenous peoples in North and East Africa conceivably constitutes both
cultural and political colonialism. Similarly, Jane Plastow (1996) has argued
convincingly that Ethiopean theater in Amharic during the Haile Selassie regime was
tantamount to a colonial form of theater, dominating subordinate languages and cultures.
For the purposes of simplicity, however, it is useful to keep a periodization based on
precolonial, colonial and postcolonial traditions, with colonial referring to the
seventeenth, eighteenth, and nineteenth century incursions by English, Portuguese,
French Spanish, and German missionaries, armies, administrators, and educators.
Precolonial Popular Theater
Scholars frequently make distinctions within precolonial theater between ritual and
secular performance, with ancestral masquerades, hunting dances, and spirit-possession
rituals given as example of religious theater, and entertainment dances and oral narratives
as examples of secular performances. The distinction is useful with the proviso that very
few secular performances were without some ritual elements, and that ritual
performances had enormous variations in their levels of sacredness. Moreover, a
diachronic analysis of forms shows that they were capable of changing their functions,
with, for example, some ritual forms becoming gradually more secular over the years.
In most precolonial masquerades, such as Egungun, Ekoe, Okukmpa (West Africa),
and Makishi and Nyau (Central Africa) worshippers considered masked dancers to be the
spirits of ancestors who returned to earth during sacred rituals in order to sustain the
living souls’ links with the dead, and to cleanse the community of spiritual and physical
impurities.
The masked dancers had a hierarchical grading, with some considered very sacred,
and others, less sacred. In Yoruba Egungun, the “elder” masks, which covered the whole
body (including the face) with richly embroidered cloths were the most sacred, while
more approachable, comic masks (such as onidan) were more representational and
African Americans
933
considered much more secular. Similarly the zoomorphic, Chewa, Nyau masks
represented ancient, powerful spirits, while the anthropomorphic masks were more
minatory and parodic.
African masquerades usually associated themselves with single sex secret cults, such
as the Poro society in West Africa or the Nyau in East Central Africa. These cults were
usually all male, but female cults with associated masquerade theater forms were not
uncommon. Occult ceremonies of a predominantly ritual nature took place in secluded
parts of the forest, while the theatrical performances involving ceremonies and dance
mimes geared to public entertainment took place in the open squares of the village or
town. The latter often contained satirical sketches, which lampooned physical departures
from community norms, such as ethnic outsiders or those afflicted with deformities like
smallpox. More frequently, however, they encouraged social control by satirizing moral
weaknesses, such as promiscuity, drunkenness, laziness, or the breaking of taboos.
Many ritual forms of masquerade developed secular variants. Adedeji (1978, 35–9)
gives a detailed accounts of fairly secular masquerade forms of theater which arose in the
eighteenth and nineteenth centuries among some Yoruba peoples. These forms, variously
called Alarinjo or Apidan, were originally aristocratic entertainments, but acquired a
progressively more popular form as troupes of traveling players took the dramas out of
the courts and into the public squares of Yoruba towns.
There were many other secular precolonial forms of dramatic entertainment that did
not necessarily evolve from rituals. Perhaps the most influential is that of narrative
drama. Oral narratives in Africa almost always had a theatrical element, not only because
of the presence of an audience, but owing to the incorporation of participatory songs as
structural devices, and because of the verbal and kinesic skills of the narrators in making
the characters come alive.
In some parts of Africa, oral narratives developed into more obviously dramatic forms.
In Mali, the Koteba were dramatized oral narratives performed at night by young men,
organized in agricultural work teams, based on age-sets. The plays were usually satiric,
making fun of such individuals as lazy farmers, submissive husbands, or negligent
polygamists. In Ghana, Anasesem were semidramatized performances that portrayed the
exploits of the Akan trickster hero, Anase (spider), using a combination of narrative,
song, drumming, and mime (by a specialized troupe of mime artists).
The principle function of narrative drama was entertainment, but there were still
strong didactic elements, which made the stories suitable for accompanying such rituals
as initiation ceremonies.
There were many other types of precolonial performance, including spirit-possession
dances, dramatized songs and hunting dances. All incorporated marked theatrical
elements into aesthetic forms which mixed such different types of art as music, song,
dance, sculpture, costuming, and mime. The tendency for most precolonial African
theater was not to valorize drama as a specialized genre but to use it as one approach in a
wider, synesthesia.
African folklore
934
Popular African Theater in the Colonial Period
One traditional view of colonialism is that it totally suppressed indigenous African
theater. This is far from the truth. Although the efforts of missionaries and colonial
administrators to eradicate “heathen” or “immoral” manifestations of African
performance undoubtedly had a major impact, African theater was capable of adapting
itself to mediate, and often resist, the changes brought about by colonialism. There are
many accounts of masquerades that used the tradition of satirical stereotyping in song and
mask creation to lampoon white colonial officers. The same is true of spirit possession
and dramatized songs (Kerr 1995, 50–8).
In addition, however, various new genres of performance emerged which, owing to
their synthesis of European and indigenous African traditions, are henceforth termed
syncretic. These created cultural tools for communities to mediate the social problems
associated with urbanization, labor migration, and the rise of the cash nexus.
One of the strongest and most widespread forms of syncretic theater is the militaristic
mime, a parody of colonial military armies. Variants of these emerged from the late
nineteenth century onward in several colonial cities, especially on the coast. They include
Soja and Goge (Nigeria), Goumbe (Cote d’Ivoire), Beni (Tanganyika [now Tanzania]),
Kenya and Nyasaland [now Malawi], Kalela (northern Rhodesia [now Zambia] and
Congo), and Muganda (Northern Rhodesia and Nyasaland) (Kerr 1995, 59–71). Very
closely related to these were the carnival parades in South Africa, such as the Coon
Carnival in Cape Town (derived from minstrel shows from the United States and
religious militaristic mimes, such as those of the South African Zionist church.
Although the militaristic mimes imitated colonial armies in their earliest
manifestations (often using real uniforms and military paraphernalia), the music and
songs derived from indigenous traditions. Moreover, as the mimes developed, and
especially as they moved back to the home villages of the migrant workers, they
appropriated other indigenous traditions of song, dance, costuming, and mime, as well as
local functions. In the towns they provided group solidarity for migrant workers, but in
the “up-country” villages their function was much more that of allowing new elites an
outlet for asserting their modernity in the face of traditional authority, or mediating
between the conflicting demands of modern and traditional value systems (Kerr 1998).
The militaristic mimes tended to emphasize group solidarity rather than individual
expression, and thus relied on an aesthetic of ensemble mime. The kind of individual
creativity that could lead to characterization and dramatic dialogue emerged in a rather
later form of syncretic popular theater, the concert party.
The concert party is most closely associated with Ghana and some neighboring
countries (especially Nigeria and Togo), although similar forms can be found in other
parts of Africa. Concert parties originated in Ghanaian schools during the 1930s when
teachers like Master Yalley and former students like Bob Johnson mixed Western forms
such as vaudeville songs, silent movies, and slapstick routines with indigenous forms of
stylized satire, such as Halo. In its early stages the concert party was fairly upmarket with
performances at schools and exclusive clubs, but by the 1950s it had become a much
African Americans
935
more popular art form, with professional troupes touring their plays around community
halls and bars.
The concert party used melodramatic or farcical plots with all-male casts and stylized
costumes and makeup to project stereotyped characters, such as the good-time girl, the
country bumpkin, or the faithful wife, in plays that relied heavily on domestic conflicts or
rags-to-riches/riches-to-rags formulae. Highlife singers and instrumentalists integrated
their musical performances with the dialog, as well as providing postperformance dance
music (Barber et al. 1997, 12–14).
Similar syncretic drama forms emerged during the colonial period in other parts of
Africa. In Western Nigeria, Yoruba opera had its origins in the independent Christian
churches. Christian choirmasters or teachers like Hubert Ogunde, Ola Ogunmola, and
Duro Ladipo combined a Western Christian cantata style with indigenous theatrical and
musical traditions, such as Alarinjo, to create a syncretic form of popular theater.
Dialogue (usually in Yoruba), music, singing, and mime were mingled in plays that
ranged through themes concerning history, Christian morality, the supernatural, crime,
and domestic conflicts (Barber, et al. 1987, 38–54).
In East Africa, Vichekesho theater had more secular origins. Itinerant professional,
almost invariably male Zanzibari mime artists during the 1930s used Indian film-acting
techniques, Taarab music, and indigenous African ngoma music and dance mime to
create stylized farces which satirized aspects of modern urban life.
A similar mix of music, singing, dialogue, and stereotyped characterization emerged
in South Africa during the 1960s in the township musical, with Gibson Kente as the most
prominent artist/entrepreneur. The township musical combined the traditions of Western
dialog drama with African choral music and township jazz (itself a syncretic form of
music) (Kavanagh 1985, 135–44).
Yoruba opera and township musicals differed from concert parties and Vichekesho in
that they used female as well as male actors, although male actors and entrepreneurs still
maintained aesthetic and financial domination. All these forms tended to concentrate on
domestic situations (usually from a male perspective), relying on an appeal to
precapitalist community moral values to mediate and judge the rapid transformations
brought about by modernization.
Post-Colonial Popular African Theater
In the postcolonial period, existing forms of indigenous and syncretic theater not only
survived, but often flourished. The heyday of concert parties and Yoruba opera was
probably in the 1960s and 1970s, with a massive expansion of traveling theater troupes
well after independence.
Other forms of popular theater, however, also emerged in the postcolonial period. One
of the most potent, if apparently unlikely sources was the elitist tradition of literary
theater in schools and universities. Although in its early stages this tended to be rather
unadventurously close to European models of theater (with aesthetic dependence
reinforced by financial support from the British Council and Alliance Française),
eventually many of these art theater institutions initiated programmes that attempted to
widen their appeal, particularly through the performance of plays in African languages,
African folklore
936
using dramatic techniques and plot motifs drawn from indigenous folklore. University
traveling theaters, such as those found at the universities of Ibadan, Legon, Makerere,
Zambia, and Malawi, began taking plays out of the university cities into the rural towns
and villages (Kerr 1995, 133–48).
As a result of this interaction between literary drama and mass audiences, a form of
popular urban improvised drama emerged among amateur troupes, mobilizing the vast
labor reserve of unemployed college graduates. In Uganda, for example, during the
1970s, playwrights like Wycliffe Kiyingi and Byron Kawadwa built up a strong Luganda
popular theater, based on a mixture of school drama techniques and popular paradramatic
performance, until the movement was crushed by Idi Amin’s reign of terror (Kerr 1995,
127–29). Similar phenomena occurred, though in less repressive circumstances, in many
other African countries.
A slightly different form of popular theater is associated with the efforts of
postcolonial governments and non-governmental organizations (NGOs), to use local
language drama as a tool of communication for development purposes. Although there
were many colonial precedents, the orgins of “Theater for Development” are often traced
to the Laedza Batananai movement for adult education in Botswana in the early 1970s.
By the 1980s, partly due to the donor funds it attracted, several varieties of “Theater for
Development,” “Animation Theater,” or “Community Theater” became pervasive
throughout sub-Saharan Africa. These ranged in style and ideology from the nakedly
instrumental tools of NGOs to communicate sectoral messages about health, agriculture,
literacy and so on, to a more community-oriented focus on indigenous cultural renewal
and social mobilization (Mda 1993). The most famous, radical variant of the latter is the
Kamiriithu experience in Kenya during the late 1970s and early 1980s, which was
vigorously crushed by the Kenyan Government (Ngugi 1986, 59–62).
Another form of theater which became increasingly popular during the postcolonial
period is that associated with the mass media. Even drama forms which appear to be
totally Western in their origins, such as television and radio drama, acquired very
different structures, styles, and techniques when adapted to African radio and television
stations. Syncretic forms of popular theater such as the concert party and Yoruba opera
found a fruitful expansion on Ghanaian and Nigeria television in the 1980s (Jeyifo 1984).
Less obviously, African traditions of narrative structure and presentation became
essential to the success of the radio plays, especially through the technique of collective
improvisation as a play-creation device (Kerr 1998).
The entire history of postcolonial popular African theater, both mediated and
nonmediated, is testimony to the resilience and adaptive capacity of indigenous African
performing arts, despite the transformations caused by capitalism, urbanization, and
modernization.
References
Adedeji, Joel. 1978. Alarinjo: The Traditional Yoruba Tavelling Theatre. In Theatre in Africa, ed.
Oyin Ogunba and Abiola Irele. Ibadan: Ibadan University Press.
Barber, Karin, John Collins, and Alain Ricard. 1987. West African Popular Theatre. Bloomington
and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press; Oxford: James Currey.
Finnegan, Ruth. 1970. Oral Literature in Africa. London: Oxford University Press.
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Jeyifo, Biodun. 1984. The Yoruba Popular Travelling Theatre of Nigeria. Lagos: Nigeria
Magazine.
Kavanagh, Robert. 1985. Theatre and Cultural Struggle in South Africa. London: Zed Books.
Kerr, David. 1995. African Popular Theatre: From Precolonial Times to the Present Day. London:
James Currey; Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann; Nairobi: EAEP; Cape Town: David Philip, Harare:
Baobab.
——. 1998. Dance, Media Entertainment and Popular Theatre in South East Africa. Bayreuth:
Bayreuth University Press.
Mda, Zakes. 1993. When People Play People: Development Communication Through Theatre.
London: Zed Boooks; Johannesburg: Witswatersrand University Press.
Ngugi wa Thiong’o. 1986. Decolonising the Mind: The Politics of Language in African Literature.
London: James Currey.
Plastow, Jane. 1996. African Theatre and Politics: The Evolution of Theatre in Ethiopia, Tanzania
and Zimbabwe. Amsterdam and Atlanta: Editions Rodopi BV.
DAVID KERR
THEATER: DURO LADIPO AND
YORUBA FOLK THEATER
Duro Ladipo was born in Oshogbo, Oshun (Nigeria) on December 18, 1931. His father
was an Anglican clergyman who tried to raise his son according to Christian ideals.
Ladipo was an active member of the church choir and exhibited a rare talent for song
composition, especially during the annual cantata (Service of Songs). In his
compositions, he deviated from the normal tradition of songs composed according to the
pattern of English hymns. He adapted traditional Yoruba religious tunes to Christian
religious songs. This was not well received by the mainstream church leaders. He was
sharply criticized and was forced to incorporate songs from English hymns into his
composition during a particular service of songs.
Ladipo, however was not to be discouraged by the criticism of the church leaders. He
introduced the traditional dundun (talking drum, which was then regarded as appropriate
only for the sacred Yoruba music of services for Shango, and for Egungun masquerades)
to his composition of Christian songs. He was not only criticized for attempting to
covertly introduce “paganism” into Christianity; he was barred from presenting his
composition during the cantata. He realized that the church was not the right place for his
music and decided to find a more secular site for his work.
In December, 1961, Ladipo was invited to perform a Christian cantata, at the newly
founded Mbari Club in Ibadan. The notable founders of this organization for artists
included Wole Soyinka, J.P.Clark, Christopher Okigbo, D.O.Fagunwa, and Ulli Beier.
Ladipo’s performance was well received. This encouraged him not only to compose more
songs but also to establish a similar club in Oshogbo. He converted his Oshogbo home
into a center for cultural activities. The center was later named Mbari-Mbayo (If I should
see it, I would be happy). The center was formally opened on March 17, 1962, with the
performance of his first musical drama, titled Oba Moro.
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Apart from more than one hundred episodes of Bode Waasimi, a popular television
drama series composed for the Western Nigerian Television Services (WNTV/WNBS),
he composed more than twenty full-length plays. The establishment of his cultural center
was an epoch in the history of Yoruba folk theater. Before this time, no Nigerian
dramatist or performer had ever established their own cultural center and theater.
Most theater practitioners at this time made the urban centers of Lagos and Ibadan
their base where there were many wealthy patrons. Duro Ladipo was dedicated to his
theater profession without making material or financial gains his focus, the major factor
that motivated most of his contemporaries to remain in the big cities. He realized that
culture is dynamic; thus, his decision to remain with his people. In fact, it could be said
that Duro Ladipo and his cultural center were essential ingredients of transformation of
Oshogbo from a traditional Yoruba town to an internationally acclaimed cultural tourist
center.
Almost all Duro Ladipo’s plays were premiered at his Mbari-Mbayo cultural center,
where the local audience passed their judgment about the plays. Ladipo then revised most
of the plays taking into consideration the criticisms and comments of the people before
taking his performances to the big cities and colleges. Before long, the Mbari-Mbayo
cultural center had outgrown its initial purpose of a theater center. Its transformation
occurred with the professional encouragement from Ulli Beier and Suzanne Wenger.
Wenger, a German batik artist who became a priestess of Osun, a river goddess, is
known by her adopted Yoruba name of Adunni Olorisa. She became the major artistic
influence of the Mbari-Mbayo center as it became a training school for young Yoruba
artists from Oshogbo. Wenger still lives and works in Oshogbo where she has created
many extraordinary shrines.
A series of experimental workshops were conducted at Mbari-Mbayo by Dennis
Williams and Georgiana Beier for young artists. Local talents who were brought into the
limelight as a result of these workshops were Twins Seven-Seven, Jimoh Buraimoh, Muri
Oyelana, Adebisi Fabunmi, and Asiru Olaatunde.
All Duro Ladipo’s plays (Oba Koso, Moremi, Eda, Oba Moro, Oba Waja, Ajagunnla)
are very popular, but his masterpiece is Oba Koso. This play put Duro Ladipo in a class
of internationally acclaimed playwrights. It has been performed more than two thousand
times in Nigeria and in more than fifteen foreign countries; it won first place at the Berlin
festival in 1964. The play later went on to win seven other awards at international theater
and cultural festivals. A television version of the play was produced successfully by CBS
in the United States.
For his role in propagating Nigerian culture at home and at abroad, Duro Ladipo was
honored by the Nigerian government with the award of the Member of the Order of Niger
(M.O.N.). He was a research fellow at the University of Ibadan’s Institute of African
Studies; the focus of his research was the Yoruba mythologies and history.
Duro Ladipo was initiated into several Yoruba orisha cults and in fact became a
Shango priest (Shango is the Yoruba orisha, or deity, of thunder). Many observed that
Duro Ladipo was possessed by the spirit of Shango each time he performed Oba Koso,
which is a play about Shango. In some quarters, he was regarded as Shango’s
reincarnation. This view was reinforced when there was an all-day downpour of torrential
rain and devastating thunderstorm when he died on March 11, 1978, marking the
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thunderous exit of a theater giant, a profound cultural ambassador, composer, and
historian. KAYODE FANILOLA
References
Owomoyela, Oyekan. 1977. Folklore and Yoruba Theater. In Forms of African Folklore, ed.
B.Lindfors. Austin: University of Texas Press.
See also Performance in Africa; Theater
THEATER: POPULAR THEATER IN
SOUTHERN AFRICA
In the precolonial period, many of the drama forms typically found in other parts of subSaharan Africa also flourished in southern Africa. These included ritual dance mimes
connected with hunting rituals (particularly among the Khoisan peoples), masquerade
theater, such as makishi, among the Lunda, Luvale, and Lozi peoples, and narrative
drama, such as nthano among the Chewa and Manganja peoples. Owing to the strength of
semimilitarized kingdoms among the Nguni-speaking peoples, the Sotho/Tswana, and the
Shona, performances associated with heroic poetry constituted a particularly widespread
form of civic entertainment in southern Africa.
However, the social effects of widescale colonial wars, land appropriation by white
settlers, commercial agriculture, mining, and urbanization had a particularly deracinating
effect on southern African culture. For example, the preference for foot stomping and
clapping as a form of syncopation in dance forms south of the Limpopo, may be partly
due to the ecological devastation caused by settler agriculture, causing a shortage of
suitable timber for the construction of drums.
Racism became the catalyst for forcing many indigenous forms of popular theater to
acquire characteristics of protest. Work songs, once removed from the context of
community agriculture or fishing and put into use on the colonial estates, frequently
deplored work conditions (Vail and White 1997). Similarly, spirit mediums during
Zimbabwe’s Chimurenga war associated veneration for ancestors with the cleansing
potential of ZANU freedom fighters’ military struggle, either in traditional spirit
possession dances, Mapira (Ranger 1985), or in the propaganda performances, Pungwe,
created by ZANU militants in the rural areas (Pongweni 1982).
The cultural impact of colonialism also had an impact on southern African
performance. Imported European forms of popular theater (such as vaudeville, Christian
morality plays, and at a later stage, cinema and radio drama), as well as European rituals
(such as military parades and Christian worship) all had a strong impact on African
performance. Examples of syncretic forms, mixing indigenous and imported artistic
styles (discussed by Coplan 1985 and Kerr 1996), include the morality plays associated
with Catholic festas in Angola and Mozambique, the dance mimes of such independent
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Christian sects as the Zionist Christian Church, the Coon Carnivals of Cape Town,
militaristic mimes like Muganda and Kalela of Malawi and Zambia, South African
township musicals, such as those of Gibson Kente, and improvised African language
radio plays.
More elitist forms of European performance, such as the literary play, opera, and
ballet, also had an influence on popular African theater, particularly in the late twentieth
century. Literary drama, promoted through the formal school system, tended to be elitist
when performed in European languages. When schools’ drama festivals began to open up
to plays in African languages (like Setswana in Botswana and Seswati in Swaziland), or
when university theater programs (such as the travelling theaters of Zambia and Malawi)
began to use indigenous languages, on their own, or mixed with English, this became the
catalyst for popular drama, not only in educational institutions, but also among amateur
(and occasionally professional) troupes.
Theater for Development schemes, promoted by government departments, educational
institutions or donor-assisted, nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) contributed much
to this type of popular theater. The Laedza Batanani Popular Theater movement in
Botswana, through a series of local and regional workshops, provided an influential
model for a theater that strategized solutions to socioeconomic problems through
community-based, participatory, didactic theater.
Examples of independent popular drama groups, performing plays that ranged from
commercial domestic farces through sociopolitical melodrama, through Theater for
Development to agit-prop, include Kanyama (Zambia), Kwathu (Malawi), Amakhosi and
Zambuko/Izimbuko (Zimbabwe), and Magosi (Botswana). In Lusophone Africa,
professional theater troupes tended to restrict themselves to plays in Portuguese in the
urban areas. The spread of the popular theater ideology, however, through the cultural
activities of the Southern African Development Community, has seen groups like
Producoes Ola of Mozambique, attempting to make their theaters more accessible to
popular audiences.
Language in South African theaters has been complicated by the apartheid
government’s attempt to link African languages to the Bantustan concept, where each socalled nation (such as English, Dutch, Zulu, Xhosa, and Sotho), had its own cultural
forms. The black consciousness theater movement in the 1970s tried to break down these
stereotypes by valorizing English as a pan-South African medium of communication.
By the 1980s, however, more varied forms of protest theater emerged, linked, for
example, with the Trade Union movement in Durban (the collectively created, Ilanga Le
So Phonela), the liberal urban professional theater (such as Woza Albert! by Ngema,
Mtswa, and Albert), or township protest theater (such as Matsamela Manaka’s Pula).
These varied forms of theater, though using different ideological and dramatic strategies,
tended to have in common, an antiapartheid perspective and a multilingual codeswitching flexibility.
The victory of the democratic struggle in South Africa has had a catalytic role not only
in that country, but throughout the region. Within South Africa it has widened the scope
of popular theater to include themes other than anti-apartheid protest. Within the region,
it has given impetus to a growing crossfertilization of popular theater ideas, techniques,
and movements.
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References
Coplan, David. 1985. In Township Tonight: South African Black City Music and Theatre. Harlow:
Longman.
Kerr, David. 1996. African Popular Theatre from Precolonial to Modern Times. London: James
Currey, Portsmouth, N.H.: Heinemann; Nairobi: EAPH; Harare: Baobab; Cape Town: David
Philip.
Ranger, Terence. 1985. Peasant Consciousness and Guerrilla War in Zimbabwe. London: James
Currey.
Pongweni, Alex. 1982. Songs that Won the Liberation War, Harare: College Press.
Vail, Leroy, and Landeg White. 1997. Plantation Protest: the History of a Mozambican Song. In
Readings in African Popular Culture, ed. Karen Barber. Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana
University Press, Oxford: James Currey.
DAVID KERR
THEATER: THEATER FOR
DEVELOPMENT
Theater for Development is a technique of drama building which rests on an interaction
between people who are affected by development projects, and those who initiate such
projects. It has been used in many countries of Africa since the 1970s. There are two
basic forms.
Firstly, it can be initiated by a government or nongovernment agency (NGO) as a
means of promoting a particular message suited to its purpose. This is sometimes called
Campaign Theater because it has been widely used in campaigns with specific goals such
as the promotion of good health (vaccination, clean water, safe sexual behavior) and in
HIV/AIDS information campaigns, as well as in education-oriented strategies. This
approach is didactic in orientation and seeks to communicate a message from the agency
to the recipient people.
The second form is as an open-ended strategy for giving people an opportunity to
identify, address, and analyze issues that they consider to be of primary importance to
their daily lives. This is a participatory strategy, seeking only to provide an opportunity
and a platform for people to focus their concerns and to articulate them in familiar forms
of performance. In this latter approach, the people are in control of both the technique
and the content. It is oriented toward interrogating issues arising in response to the
presence or absence of “development,” that is, the social and physical changes brought
about by national and international agency, whether governmental or nongovernmental.
Within government social departments and donor aid agencies, this form of Theater
for Development has found itself frequently (and perhaps increasingly) constrained by a
direct cause-analysis-action paradigm identifying it as a theater of social information and
social education. This form of Theater for Development reverses the direction of the flow
of information between “developers” and the “developed.” It does this by using familiar
forms of performance that help to instill in people a sense of their own worth, respect for
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their own forms of articulation, and gives them the confidence to explore beyond present
knowledge. By its very nature, dramatization approaches the unknown. It is creative,
theatrical and spectacular. This form of Theater for Development not only goes beyond a
simplistic didactic mode, but also eschews didacticism altogether in favor of a theater that
is neither mechanical nor prescriptive, but exploratory and forever incomplete, open to
new interpretations and new developments.
Theater for Development is not a technique in the service of the development industry.
On the contrary, it is a technique of interrogating approaches to development so that
those most affected can intervene in top-down approaches and determine the extent and
nature of their engagement.
The lineage of Theater for Development is usually traced from Paulo Freire’s
Pedagogy of the Oppressed (1972) through Augusto Boal’s experimental theater work in
Brazil as recounted in his book, Theater of the Oppressed (1979). These very general
beginnings were themselves part of the shift in arts practice and in the thinking about the
arts that took place during the 1960s from arts for the people to arts by the people. The
content and personnel of Theater for Development derive from “on-the-ground”
situations and embrace the logic of a Freireian-Boalian paradigm of direct fictionalizing
and dramatizing that lead ideally to action in real life.
Theater for Development provides a fictional framework within which people explore
their own real lives and is designed to create a deeply affecting encounter between its
participant-audience and its participant-performers, so that each individual acquires a
changed mode of interacting with reality. In Freireian parlance, this is called
“conscientization.” Boal describe the technique as a “rehearsal for life,” but in many
instances, people have used it not only as a “rehearsal” but as an actual defining moment
for coming to terms with and taking control of change in their society.
The early experiments in “community” theater that took place in Botswana, Zambia,
Malawi, and Sierra Leone were developed more fully in Nigeria over many years in
Amadu Bello University by Oga S.Abah and his team. They emphasized and developed a
fully interactive process of drama building between local people and “resource persons,”
the experienced personnel of the Theater for Development.
Gradually, this interactive form has become the most successful and is now the most
sought after by development agencies keen to explore “participatory processes.” Besides
these first few countries, nowadays, Theater for Development takes place in most
countries of Africa: Ghana, Cameroon, Burkina Faso, Senegal, Eritrea, Zimbabwe,
Tanzania, Kenya, Uganda, Ethiopia, and many others. Along with Oga Steve Abah and
Jenkeri Okworri in Nigeria, among the best-known directors are Rose Mbowa in Uganda,
Penina Muhando Mlama in Tanzania, Stephen Chifunyise in Zambia, and Gonche
Materego in Tanzania.
Theater for Development relies at every stage of the process on the contribution of
participant-spectators to create the drama. Their interactions and reactions are not
optional extras without which the drama will go ahead anyway, but rather the sine qua
non, without which there is no drama. In Theater for Development, everyone who is
physically present at rehearsal or performance is a participant-performer and a
participant-spectator. The opportunity to shift more than once between the two positions
is one of the mechanisms which gives Theater for Development its special appeal and
power, because spectators can intervene in the unfolding “plot” and change it as it is
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being performed. In its shifting, nonliterate, analytical approach, Theater for
Development is a committed, open-ended theater.
At its best, it operates through a series of very simple principles:
1. It recognizes people’s existing skills in performance, analysis and articulation;
2. It uses as its story-line, the experiences of the people within the community where it is
being created;
3. It fictionalizes that account so that no one is compromised by being personally named
or identified;
4. It contributes through discussion to an understanding of the issues raised;
5. Its performers are from within the community;
6. Its audience is the community;
7. It offers no fictional resolution to the crisis within the drama, but interacts in a direct
manner with the community throughout the performance and in post-performance
discussion and action.
References
Abah, Oga Steve. 1997. Porforming Life: Case Studies in the Practice of Theater for Development.
Zaria, Nigeria: Shekut.
——. 2002. Creativity, Participation and Change in Theatre for Development Practice. In The
Performance Arts in Africa: A Reader, ed. F.Harding. NY: Routledge.
Boal, Augusto. 1979. Theater of the Oppressed. London: Pluto Press.
Freire, Paulo. 1972. Pedagogy of the Oppressed. London: Penguin Books.
Harding, Frances. 1998. Neither “Fixed Masterpiece” nor “Popular Distraction”: Voice,
Transformation and Encounter in Theatre for Development. In African Theatre for
Development: An for Self determination, ed. K.Salhi, Exeter, UK: Intellect Press.
——. 1998. Fifteen Years Between: Benue & Katsina Workshops. In African Theatre in
Development, ed. M.Bnaham, J.Gibbs, and F.Osofisan. Oxford, UK: James Currey.
Kilo, Asheri. 2002. The Language of Anglophone Cameroon Drama. In The Performance Arts in
Africa: A Reader, ed. F.Harding, NY: Routledge.
Mda, Zakes. 1993. When People Play People: Development Communication through Theatre.
Johannesburg, South Africa: University of Witswatersrand; London: Zed.
FRANCES HARDING
See also Government Policies toward Folklore
THEATER: YORUBA FOLK THEATER
Centered in western Nigeria, the Yoruba folk theater has its origins in Alaringo (traveling
dance troupe). Alaringo first emerged from the dramatic roots of the Egungun
masquerades, which honored the ancestors, and initially all participants came from the
same patrilineage. But when Ologin Ologbojo, the head of the court entertainment during
the reign of Alaafin Ogbolu, died, the kingship was given to Esa-Ogbin, a maternal
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944
relation. Esa-Ogbin is generally credited with the professionalization of masquerades.
Although Ologbojo only performed for Alaafin and his royal guests by flattering and
amusing them, Esa-Ogbin took the theater to the masses. Through him, the theater
became popular and attracted people from other lineages who wished to work in theater.
These performances continue to entertain Yoruba communities.
The acting troupes move from one town to another; they have historically often been
exposed to dangerous situations. As a result of this, they relied heavily on the Egungun
association for protection. In some villages, members of the troupe are re-garded as lazy
rogues and vagabonds. Nevertheless, they are usually well received when they arrive for
their performances.
The nature of the troupe’s performance depends on whether the troupe is invited to the
village, and if invited, who sponsors the troupe. On certain occasions, the troupe may be
invited by the Oba (traditional ruler). The audience is usually limited to the Oba’s royal
guests and the nobles in the village. The troupe may also be invited by Alagbaa, the head
of the Egungun association in the town. However, it may also go to a village to perform
without actually being invited. Either way, the troupe must first go to the house of the
Alagbaa to pay homage and gain permission to perform. Without this important step, the
troupe will not be allowed to perform in the community. Usually, the performance venue
is the market square or the front yard of the Alagbaa’s house. The role of the Alagbaa is
crucial before, during, and after the troupes’s performance. All necessary groundwork
and preparations prior to the arrival of the troupe should be done by the Alagbaa. When
the troupe arrives, the Alagbaa also accompanies the troupe while they dance around the
village to publicize their arrival and to announce the venue of the performance.
The venue is an open ground and not an elevated or raised platform, and it is encircled
by the audience. The space within the circle depends on the type of dance or dramatic
sketch the troupe is performing and also on how orderly the audience is. Therefore, the
circle formed by the audience can sometimes contract or expand. No entrance fee is
charged because it is a sort of open show. However, a good performance is rewarded by
the appreciative audience with money and gifts, such as new cloth and even new wives.
The presentation of the drama can be divided into three parts. The opening comprises
the signature tune of the troupe, which pays homage to Olodumare (Almighty God),
homage to Esa Ogbin (the founding father of the Egungun association as a professional
entertainment guild), and homage to the other pioneers of the profession. The opening
must also include the introduction of the leader of the troupe, who is usually the lead
chanter/vocalist. This introduction usually includes a list of activities and attributes which
portray him as a hero and a great performer. Lastly, the opening must include greetings
and the welcoming of important members of the audience to the show.
After the opening is the actual performance, which usually comprises different types
of acrobatic dances, dramatic sketches, and at times magical displays of various sorts.
The closing is the grand finale, which comprises the farewell songs and expressions of
gratitude to the patrons, not only for the money and the gifts but also for patiently staying
until the end of the performance.
In certain situations, the drama sketches may be a social or political satire, which may
be too critical or controversial, and thus displease the ruler. The traditional ruler in such a
situation may order the performance to be brought to an abrupt end and order the troupe
out of his domain.
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The first Yoruba professional theater group was that of Hubert Ogunde, formed in
1946. The name of the group at its formation was the Africa Music and Research Party.
Among his earlier plays are Tiger’s Empire, Darkness and Light, and Mr. Devil’s Money.
Ogunde, a former police constable, was born in 1916 at Ososa, Ogun State of Nigeria.
He gradually shifted the focus of his plays from biblical themes to politics. This shift is
explained by the fact that this period following World War II was marked by the political
activity of various nationalist movements fighting for political independence throughout
Africa. Ogunde’s plays were his contribution to the struggle against colonialism. Among
Ogunde’s plays with political themes are Strike and Hunger (1946), Towards Liberty
(1947), Worse than Crime, and Bread and Bullet (1950).
For a long time, Ogunde dominated not only the Yoruba theatrical scene, but that of
all of Nigeria. His audience grew to include various ethnic groups of Nigeria. The reason
for this is in part due to the fact that he performed most of his plays at this time both in
Yoruba and English. Because of the popularity of his plays and their impact on the
public, the colonial administration attempted to suppress Ogunde’s work. Strike and
Hunger and Bread and Bullet were both banned at various times, and Ogunde was fined.
Even after Nigeria gained independence, Ogunde’s plays continued to focus on
political themes. His monumental play Yoruba Ronu (Yoruba Think) satirized the
intraparty crises that engulfed the Action Group, the political party that was controlling
the Western Nigerian government. Yoruba Ronu is a clarion call for unity among the
Yorubas in the face of divisive external forces. The play was not well received by the
government; it was banned and Ogunde was barred from performing anywhere in the
region.
Ogunde’s popularity continued to rise. The ban on Ogunde was lifted by the military
government in 1966. In 1967, Ogunde’s theater represented Nigeria in EXPO ‘67 in
Montreal, Canada after which the group undertook a much acclaimed tour of the United
States. In the 1970s, Ogunde decided to try filmmaking. His first movie was a
monumental success; it was not only shown throughout West Africa, but in many
European cities. This film, Aiye, was followed by Jaiyesimi, Aropin ni tenia, and
Ayanmo. Ogunde is generally regarded as the “Father of Nigerian Theater.”
Another towering figure in Yoruba theater is Akin Ogungbe. Most of the second
generation of Yoruba theater practitioners were trained by Akin Ogungbe, including Isola
Ogunsola, Jimoh Aliu, and Baba Ijesa.
Kola Ogunmola is another important artist of the Yoruba theater. Very popular among
the people, his most famous play is Omuti, which is based on Amos Tutuola’s Palmwine
Drunkard which was loosely based, in turn, on Yoruba folktales. Notable Yoruba theater
practitioners trained by Ogunmola include Ray Ejiwumi and Fabusola.
As Ogunmola’s popularity continued to grow; a great tragedy struck. He became
paralyzed on stage during one of his performances. For years, his theater group was
dormant because he was being carried from one healing home to another in search of
cure. In 1972, the news of his recovery was received enthusiastically by all theater lovers.
In a short time, Ogunmola staged a come back. He was again on the road, taking his
theater from one city to another. In all the cities where he performed, the halls were
always packed full; but at the height of his popularity, his death was suddenly announced.
It was believed in many quarters that he worked too hard too soon after his recovery.
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Another aspect of Yoruba folk theater is comedy. In this regard, Moses Olaiya, a.k.a
Baba Sala, is a pioneering Yoruba theater comedian. His Alawada group became so
popular that many of the theater groups which formed in the early and mid-1970s
followed the pattern of Moses Olaiya’s Alawada group.
The high degree of literacy among the Yoruba, particularly in the Yoruba language,
has contributed to the popularity of atoka, a Yoruba “photo play” magazine which was
introduced in the 1970s by West African Publishing Company, also publishers of Spear
and Drum magazines. Yoruba theater practitioners were selected every month for
performance of their play, during which all the scenes in the play were recorded in
photographs and every character’s utterances were transcribed. The “photo play”
magazine became a great commercial success.
Another important factor that has contributed to the growth of Yoruba folk theater is
the role of Western Nigerian Television, Ibadan, which happened to be the first television
station in Africa. Theatrical productions were often shown in prime time slots. The
television station also embarked on a program of talent hunts, whereby many new talents
were discovered. Also, the television station commissions theater groups to produce
special plays for the station’s yearly anniversary, which lasts an entire month every
October. Drama presentations usually constitute about 60 percent of the anniversary’s
programs.
However, radical changes are taking place in the production of Yoruba folk theater.
These changes are being brought about by the effects of a profound media
transformation. With the advent of cinematography and video production of most plays,
most theater groups are disintegrating. Most artists now see themselves as individual stars
and no longer a members of a particular theater group. They are free to star in or feature
in any movie or video production of any play. Live stage performances of drama are
growing more rare. Instead, Yoruba movies are shown, and videotapes of drama
productions can either be bought at video stores or rented at video clubs which can be
found in every corner of most Nigerian cities. Most of the producers of these movies and
video plays find active financial support from businesses, which consider movie and
video plays another valuable medium for advertising.
KAYODE FANILOLA
References
Owomoyela, Oyekan. 1977. Folklore and Yoruba Theater. In Forms of African Folklore, ed.
B.Lindfors. Austin: University of Texas Press.
See also Performance in Africa
TIGRINYA
See Northeastern Africa (“The Horn”) Overview; Women’s Folklore: Eritrea
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TIV
See Performing Arts of the Tiv; West African Folklore: Overview
TOGO (REPUBLIC OF TOGO)
Located on the coast of West Africa and neighbored by Benin, Burkina Faso, and Ghana,
Togo is a tropical country of 4.7 million people. Lome, the nation’s capital, has a
population of 513,000. The ethnic makeup of the country consists of more than forty
groups, including the Ewe (44 percent), Mina, and Kabye. The major languages spoken
are French, Ewe, Mina, Dagomba, and Kaybe. The majority of the country practices
traditional indigenous religions (70 percent), while 20 percent are Christian and 10
percent are Muslim.
The Portuguese first settled here in 1471. The British and French jockeyed for control
years, but it was the Germans who formally colonized the territory in 1884. After World
War I, Britain and France coadministrated it for the League of Nations and later for the
UN. In 1956, British Togoland voted to join the then Gold Coast (Ghana), while French
Togoland voted for full independence in April 27, 1960. In the years since independence,
the nation has suffered from political violence and an unstable economy and government.
Although a civilian government was implemented in 1963 after a military coup, in 1967
General Gnassingbe Eyadema assumed the presidency and still rules the country. In
recent years, however, prodemocracy demonstrations have renewed hope that Togo will
return to a multiparty system.
Togo’s natural resources include phosphates, limestone, and marble, while agricultural
production yields yams, manioc, millet, sorghum, cocoa, coffee, and rice. Principle
sources of revenue come from the industries of phosphates, textiles, agricultural products,
and tourism.
Lome, Togo’s capital, is known internationally for its association with the Lome
Convention, an association through which products of African, Caribbean, and Pacific
nations are given advantageous access to European trade markets.
JENNIFER JOYCE
TONGUE TWISTERS: EAST AFRICA
Tongue twisters fall under the short forms of oral literature in East Africa. Other
categories in this group include proverbs and riddles. These short forms share a number
of characteristics, which include invariability, compactness, word play, and informality.
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These characteristics are related in tongue twisters. Since tongue twisters rely on word
play, they generally appear in fixed patterns nearly all the time and there is very limited
scope for improvisation or invariability. Since they do not change over time, they are able
to retain their compactness. This compactness makes it possible for these forms to be so
easily incorporated into ordinary conversation or performed in intimate and informal
situations.
Despite these characteristics—or perhaps because of them—tongue twisters are among
the most memorable of all the forms of performance in the East African oral tradition.
This is especially so among young audiences. This can be attributed to their versatility
and utility in play.
Tongue twisters also have the function of testing a speaker’s fluency in a language.
They require the speaker to utter without hesitation or faltering, a sequence of words with
particular difficulties in articulation. The words themselves have a basic meaning, usually
of a jocular nature, and part of the fun of performing tongue twisters consists in the
likelihood that distortion of the utterance, due to the articulation problems, will result in
distortion or confusion of meaning.
Structurally, tongue twisters hinge mainly on both alliteration, the repetition of a series
of consonants, and assonance, the repetition of a series of vowels. Below are examples
from selected communities in East Africa. Since tongue twisters depend on grammatical
structures of the language, they loose their structural arrangement and artistic appeal
upon translation. An effort is however made to provider a phonological transcription to
enable nonnative speakers experience the effect of the tongue twisters.
Akawala akaawa Kaawa kaawa akaawa ka wa?
Transcription: /akawala aka:wa ka:wa ka:wa aka:wa ka wa/
Translation: The girl who gave Kaawa bitter coffee, where is she from?
Community of origin: Buganda, central Uganda.
Wale wale watu wa liwali wala wali wa liwali?
Transcription: /walє walє watu wa liwali wala wali wa liwali/
Translation: Those very people of the headman eat the rice of the
headman.
Community of origin: Swahili, Kenyan coast.
Khaba, orakhaba khaba obabakha esibakhwa ta, khulabakha abene.
Transcription: /xaba, oraxaβa xaβa oβaβaxa єsβaxwa ta, xulaβaxa
aβene/
Translation: No. Do not bother about maids, we shall do it (wedding)
ourselves.
Omulukha khwomulukha kuno kwolele khubalukhi bemilukha ta.
Transcription: /omuluxa xwomuluxa. kuno kwolele xubaluxi βemiluxa
ta/
Translation: The arrangement of this occasion was not reviewed by the
experts.
Tora butora okhutora khwabatori khwakhuhenga.
Transcription: /tora βutora oxutora xwaβatori xwaxuhenga/
Translation: Go on getting thin we have left the world of the slim to
you.
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Olakhalaka akhalaka khanje khesilaka.
Transcription: /olaxalaxa axalaka xand3є xesikala/
Translation: How he is tearing to pieces my piece of cloth meant for
mending.
Community of origin: Bunyore, western Kenya.
Kaana ka Nikora kona kora kora, nako kora kona kana ka nikora kora.
Transcription: /ka:na ka nikora kona kora kora nako kora kona ka:na ka
nikora kora/
Translation: Nikora’s child saw a tadpole and ran away and the tadpole
saw the child and ran away too.
Kĩrĩgu kĩhungu kĩna kĩronda kĩa ndĩĩra kĩrahaica kĩhingo ta kĩhĩĩ.
Transcription: /kerego kehongo kena kero(n)da kea (n)dera kerahaisa
kehingo ta kehee/
Translation: A huge, uncircumcised*, mannerless girl with a putrescent
wound scales over the gate like an uncircumcised boy. (Circumcision was
a compulsory rite of passage to adulthood for both boys and girls in
traditional Gĩkũyũ society)
Community of origin: Gĩkũyũ, central Kenya.
Atud tond atonga, tond atonga chodi.
Transcription: /atud tond atonga tond atonga t∫odi/
Translation: I tie the rope of the basket, the rope of the basket breaks.
Apon ng’op ong’owo, ng’op ong’owo luar.
Transcription: /apon ŋop oŋowo ŋop oŋowo luar/
Translation: I pick up the fig fruit that falls down.
Acham tap chotna malando chotna cham tapa malando
Transcription: /at/am tap t∫otna malando t∫otna t∫otna tapa malando/
Translation: I eat from the red dish of my lover and my lover eats from
my red dish.
Community of origin: Luo, southwestern Kenya and southeastern
Uganda.
References
Lo Liyong, T., ed. 1972. Popular Culture of East Africa: Oral Literature. Nairobi: Longman Kenya
Limited.
Nandwa, J., and A Bukenya. 1983. African Oral Literature for Schools. Nairobi: Longman Kenya
Limited.
MICHAEL WAINAINA
See also Linguistics and African Verbal Arts
TONGUE TWISTERS: YORUBA
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Yoruba tongue-twisters are enjoyed by people of all ages. Although primarily intended as
forms of entertainment, they can nevertheless have a serious purpose as well. During the
Nigerian civil war in the late 1960s, military checkpoints used tongue twisters in order to
verify a person’s identity. Yoruba is a tonal language, which means that words that are
identical in terms of vowels and consonants will have totally different meanings if
pronounced with different tones. Thus, tongue twisters rely on not only acomplex series
of consonants, but changing tones as well. The following tongue twister plays with the
words míràn (another), òmìrán (another one), and òmìrán (giant).
E wa wo òmìrán
To ti ibomirah wa wo
òmìrán òmìrán wa
(Come and behold a giant
who comes from somewhere to see
another giant from elsewhere!)
Another example:
Gbógbó igbó fi gbó gbin gbòngbò.
(All the forest used all forest land to grow its roots)
AKINSOLA AKIWOWO
TOURING PERFORMANCE GROUPS
State support of folkloric troupes has led to the development of music, dance, and theater
performances at a number of levels. Although some groups perform locally and relatively
informally, others perform throughout a nation, and still others tour the world. These
groups are different in function, and to some extent in form, from either the “traditional”
cyclical performances linked to rites of passage and other ceremonies, or the professional
popular theatrical troupes that perform dramatic, acrobatic, or puppet theater from town
to town. However, the government troupes often borrow liberally from the themes and
performance styles of other forms of theater. These troupes seem most often to operate in
one or more of three modes: political, commodified, or educational.
Probably the most common function intended for folkloric groups is an educational
one. According to the setting, governments sometimes call upon these troupes to
illuminate a group’s cultural heritage for them, especially to younger generations. At
other times, the groups may have to represent the culture of one region or ethnicity within
a nation to others, promoting tolerance and national cohesion. In international
performance, they educate foreigners about their homeland’s rich cultural heritage.
As in all nations, the line between educational functions and political ones is blurred,
such as when national performance troupes are meant to create a sense of national
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identity and belonging across groups that are otherwise considered to have ethnic or
religious differences. More explicitly political uses include theatrical and musical
performances that are parts of political mobilization spectacles. These are dramatic
performances meant to transmit party doctrine, and cultural performances representative
of specific (but politically dominant) ethnicities, which are portrayed as representing the
whole of a nation’s traditional or folkloric culture.
Finally, commodified folklore is frequently part of the cultural landscape in countries
with large tourist industries. African artists have been extremely flexible and successful
in meeting outsiders’ demands for aesthetic goods and performances, some of the earliest
examples being the Afro-Portuguese ivory salt cellars carved by West African artists in
the sixteenth century for European traders. During the colonial period, entire genres of
carving emerged in response to European taste and demands, leading into ever more
complex negotiations between buyers and sellers where “authenticity” became a major
criterion of value. Similarly, displays of masked dances and other performances have
been perfected for nonritual purposes since the colonial period, when masquerades were
often used to welcome important personages, including colonial officials. Today, in
countries including Kenya, Zimbabwe, and Ivory Coast, capital cities and other tourist
sites offer numerous folkloric “shows,” each attempting to provide the most authentic
experience possible for its audience.
The international touring troupes combine elements from each of these three modes,
often trying to educate, entertain for profit, and promote a political program at the same
time. Les Ballets Africains of the Republic of Guinea is one of the most popular and
successful folkloric groups in the world, and since the early 1960s, its annual tours of
Africa, Europe, and North America have played to large audiences. Education has
probably been the number one consideration in these performances, showing peoples
from other nations, both in Africa and elsewhere, the tremendous richness of Guinean
musical and dance styles and genres. In this way, the troupe achieves one of the major
objectives of many African states’ cultural policies: to recuperate the rich traditional
culture that is said to have been lost during the colonial period. The claim is somewhat
problematic, since it assumes that Africans did not continue to practice their religions,
music, and performance genres (even secretly, when necessary) during the colonial
period. Moreover, it accepts the opposition introduced during the colonial period between
the realm of folklore and “tradition,” and that of art and modernity. This dichotomy is
well represented by the assumptions of some countries that local festivals and ceremonies
are in no need of state support, while the state’s artificial folkloric festivals and events
require funding beyond what the public is willing to contribute.
This educational-recuperative program becomes increasingly political as the
organizers try to negotiate the balance between ethnically specific and nationally
inclusive performances. The Guinean troupe, for instance, made it a point to recruit
performers from all over the nation, and to have them participate in the performance of
songs in the languages and rhythms of every region of the country. The Bomas of Kenya,
a cultural/folkloric group based in Nairobi, organized its performances in the same way,
arguing by example that the various ethnic groups of the nation were not separated by
any essential qualities, and could, in fact, understand and perform one another’s music,
theater, and dances within the context of their shared national identity.
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There is some question as to the extent to which this approach to folklore has been
convincing to differing groups. Although the history of aesthetic innovation throughout
Africa shows a consistent willingness to borrow, quote, and appropriate both neighboring
and faraway styles, the decontextualized juxtaposition common to the performances of
national folkloric troupes may be less convincing to rural African audiences. As hybrid
performance genres, they often present African “tradition” within the context of
European conventions (proscenium stage, lack of larger social significance surrounding
the performances, costume changes). In this respect, the troupes often receive warmer
receptions from urban elites, international African audiences in other countries or at
festivals such as FESTAC, or Euro-American audiences overseas.
It is this decontextualizing dynamic that raises the question of commodification as it
relates to cultural politics. Les Ballets Africains, for instance, has been criticized for the
exotic manner in which it portrays Africa, with scenarios of “primitive” rites, and the
female dancers dancing topless through the 1960s. These qualities no doubt added to the
troupe’s economic success, while simultaneously undercutting the intended educational
aspect of the performances. Although there are no easy answers to questions regarding
the proper functions and forms of state folkloric performances, they are central to each
African nation’s choices about how to portray history, and how regionally specific
cultures articulate their relationship to the nation as a whole.
References
Andrade, Mario de. 1982. Communication for Cultural Decolonization in Africa. Culture 8, no. (3):
15–25.
Arnoldi, Mary S. 1995. Playing with Time: Art and Performance in Central Mali. Bloomington:
Indiana University Press.
Kapalanga, Gazungil Sang’Amin. 1989. Les spectacles d’animation politique en Republique du
Zaire. Special number of Cahiers theatre Louvain.
Kirshenblatt-Gimblett, Barbara. 1990. Objects of Ethnography. In Exhibiting Cultures: The Politics
and Poetics of Museum Display, eds. Ivan Karp and Steven Lavine. Washington, D.C.:
Smithsonian Press.
Ministry of Culture, People’s Revolutionary Republic of Guinea Cultural Policies. 1979. Paris:
UNESCO.
UNESCO Cultural Policies: Guidelines. 1969. Paris: UNESCO.
MICHAEL MCGOVERN
See also Education: Folklore in Schools; Popular Culture; Tourism and Tourist
Arts
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TOURISM AND TOURIST ARTS
Tourism in Africa has impacted indigenous expressive culture in many different ways,
both positive and negative. The two primary categories of expressive culture that have
been affected by tourism are the visual arts and performance. This essay will focus on the
visual arts, which have variously been referred to in the literature as tourist art, airport art,
popular art, export art, souvenirs, ethnokitsch, or curios.
Evaluations of African tourist arts have always been divided between those that view
such work as having a negative impact on the artistic traditions of Africa, and those that
consider it vital to the survival of both traditional styles and the spirit of creativity. The
former, which regards tourist art as a threat to the cultural survival of “traditional” arts,
posits that commercialization encourages shoddy workmanship through the limitations
imposed by mass production and the decreasing expectations of tourist patrons with
putatively “undeveloped” taste. Critics of commercialism argue that tourist art leads
inevitably to the cultural demise of true artistic genius. Frank McEwen, the first director
of the National Gallery of Zimbabwe, coined the term airport art in 1960 to reflect his
disapproval of all aspects of commercialism in African art, which he described as one of
“the saddest forms of art prostitution that ignorant tourists support” (1960, 39).
Admirers of African tourist art, on the other hand, value commercial developments for
at least four reasons. First, they argue that the rise of a tourist art trade often leads to the
continuation, or even revival, of earlier art forms that might otherwise have vanished. In
certain areas, for example, where missionary conversion may have suppressed the
religious practices which once employed masks and statues, banished art forms persist
only as a result of their secular, commercial production for outsiders. Second, defenders
of tourist art suggest that commercial production for export encourages young artists to
develop their skills and aptitude as workshop apprentices and “line” carvers. Such
abilities may then be transferred back into more traditional artistic practices for
indigenous consumption. Third, from an economic perspective, tourist arts are
championed as a financial survival strategy in areas where other forms of income may be
hard to find. Tourist art networks employ not only artists but a vast array of related
personnel, including itinerant streethawkers, marketplace traders, wholesale and
international middlemen, gallery employees and owners, and government bureaucrats.
Finally, some argue that tourist art should not be viewed as a degraded or inferior version
of “traditional” African art, but rather analyzed as a category of artistic production with
its own aesthetic sensibilities, merits, and values. Turning to a linguistic parallel to
underscore this point, Paula Ben-Amos suggested (1977) that tourist art might even be
compared to a pidgin language, since both are created as means of communication in
transcultural exchange. Just as linguists confirm that pidgin languages are not “simplified
foreigner talk” but complex language systems, so too one could argue that tourist art
represents a sophisticated form of cultural expression which can be accorded equal
intellectual (and aesthetic) value, and studied at the same level of analysis, as traditional
arts.
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History of Tourist Art in Africa
Although most African tourist art emerged after World War II, in response to greater
numbers of foreigners working and traveling on the continent, examples of commercial
production go back to the earliest encounters between Europeans and Africans. Among
these are the so-called Afro-Portuguese ivories, dating to the late fifteenth and early
sixteenth centuries. Mainly ivory horns and saltcellars, these works were commissioned
by Portuguese sailors to bring home as tribute to their royal sponsors in Europe. Since the
first monograph on the subject (Fagg 1959), these ivories have been treated as early
hybrid commercial art forms; yet because of their age, rarity, and stunning technical
virtuosity, they have not generally been grouped into the broader category of tourist art.
Until recently, art historians and collectors alike have often assumed that any art
object acquired in Africa prior to the twentieth century must be “authentic.” This term is
understood in the literature to mean something “produced by a traditional artist for a
traditional purpose and conforming to traditional forms” (Cornet 1975, 55). There is,
however, a growing body of evidence to suggest that art objects have been manufactured
commercially for sale to outsiders prior to the twentieth century. In the late nineteenth
century, for example, the ethnographic museum in Rome acquired a collection of masks
and statues assembled in 1887 along the mouth of the Congo River by explorer Giuseppe
Corona. Given their early date, it was assumed that these objects were intended for
indigenous use. Yet they were in fact made for sale to outsiders, and they cater to
European stereotypes of Africans, especially the two unclothed male figures with
exaggerated sexual organs. In a 1979 article ironically entitled “Nineteenth-Century
Airport Art,” Ezio Bassani concludes that “this unknown artisan must have worked on
order, creating sculptures for sale to foreign sailors and travelers who wished to bring
back from Africa curios and ‘typical’ objects” (1979, 35).
As the production of tourist art grew in scale and quantity as a result of increased
foreign demand following World War II, different categories and styles of tourist art
slowly began to emerge across the continent. Today, tourist arts might usefully be
divided into two broad categories: (1) those derived largely from traditional object types
(mainly copies of canonical styles of masks and sculptures from West and Central
Africa), and (2) those developed purely for external trade due to newly formed
associations with European and American buyers (the most notable examples of these
developed first in East and Southern Africa).
West and Central Africa
Most commercial production in West and Central Africa consists of reproducing
“classic” examples of traditional art forms, mainly wooden masks and statues, but also
elaborately carved wooden spoons, game boards, stools, door locks, and headrests, terracotta vessels and figurines, as well as cast bronze figures, goldweights and other forms.
Since the early decades of this century, artists have produced increasing quantities of
objects for sale to outsiders. Much of this production has been spurred by the need for
cash income, as the spread of colonial taxation rapidly disrupted the internal structure of
subsistence economies. Although many artists produce for both local and foreign
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markets, novice and less skilled artists are often limited to producing for outsiders,
because their work is not of sufficient quality to be desired by local patrons.
Among the oldest and best-organized commercial networks in West Africa is that of
the Kulebele, a Senufo subgroup living in northern Cote d’Ivoire. Kulebele artists have
long produced masks and statues for use in traditional religious activities. By the early
1900s, however, they also began selling copies to French colonial administrators. Since
the 1940s Kulebele production has expanded to accommodate a much wider tourist
market (see Richter 1980). Today shipments are dispatched throughout Africa and the
world. To keep up with growing demand, Kulebele men carve in large, collective
workshops where they often use such nontraditional tools as chisels, saws, mallets, vises,
sandpaper, and shoe polish. As the market continued to expand and become more
competitive in recent years, it became evident to the Kulebele that certain ethnic styles
sold better than others. Thus, in addition to carving Senufo art, enterprising Kulebele
carvers have added to their repertoire Dan masks, Asante combs, Baule figures, and other
forms highly sought after by tourists. In her research on ebony carvers in Benin, Paula
Ben-Amos remarked on this capacity of commercial artists to go beyond the limits of
their own inherited style: “Carvers produce whatever sells, regardless of their personal
preference or sense of pride in knowing traditional patterns” (1976, 327).
One feature that distinguishes commercial art markets in West and Central Africa
from those of other parts of the continent is a large traffic in fake objects. Many foreign
buyers are aware (through what they read in guidebooks, for example) that collectors
value age and signs of indigenous use in their definition of “authentic” African art. Thus
tourists often demand objects that look old and appear to have served (or been “danced”)
in a ritual context. In response, artists and traders have become adept at sophisticated
techniques of artificial aging and creating fake patinas. Mashed kola nuts, for example,
are applied to masks and figures to imitate the encrustation of sacrificial materials.
Objects are held over flames to replicate quickly the smoke and soot residue that would
accumulate over time on objects stored in rafters above cooking fires. Carvings are buried
in termite mounds to stimulate decay. Sculptures covered with grain are set out in open
compounds enabling chickens to peck at the wood, creating random “evidence” of age
and distress.
While many commercially produced objects in these areas are replicas of classic styles
(sometimes copied from dog-eared books on African art that for years have made the
rounds of carving workshops) some objects have been invented or modified in direct
response to consumer demand. Because tourists are limited in the amount of luggage they
can carry, a high demand exists for small, portable objects. This has led, for example, to a
lively trade in so-called passport masks, carvings that reproduce on a small scale the
identifiable styles of larger masks. Some objects, such as Baule “spirit” figures and
Asante akuaba images have been embellished by additions of beads applied with resin to
wood surfaces. Many such designs are applied by traders or less skilled artisans after the
carvings are acquired from workshop artists. This indicates that commercial
manufacturing is often an incremental process not limited to the work of a single artist or
to conventional time frames for artistic production.
Finally, tourist art in these regions is not limited to non-African buyers; it appeals also
to a culturally diverse and growing body of African elite and middle-class consumers in
urban centers, who acquire art forms as household decorations and gifts for relatives and
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friends. Many such buyers are not interested in replicas of traditional forms, objects they
do not believe can be disassociated for them from village contexts and often potent
religious associations. Rather, they favor nontraditional styles, including carved ivory
fruit, malachite boxes and chessboards, ebony busts or animal figures, and wildlife,
scenic, or narrative paintings, among other forms.
East Africa
Although there is some evidence that the Kamba of Kenya carved spoons, stools, and
small ritual objects in the nineteenth century, prior to the 1920s, the Kamba certainly did
not have a well-developed woodcarving tradition. A number of different stories recount
the roots of Kamba commercial woodcarving in the twentieth century. Some locate the
origins of this art after World War II, influenced by Icelandic Lutheran missionaries.
Others attribute the birth of Kamba art to a single artist, Mutsiya wa Munge, a veteran of
World War I who fought for the British in German East Africa (now Tanzania) and
returned to Kenya, where he began carving copies of Maconde masks and statues he had
seen abroad. A district officer is said to have seen his fine carvings and commissioned
him to sculpt a walking stick with a human figure on the handle. Other administrators
placed orders with Mutsiya, and slowly, by word of mouth, a small industry was born. In
order to supply the growing market, Mutsiya trained his sons, relatives, and fellow
villagers.
During World War II, soldiers looking for souvenirs in East Africa began purchasing
increasing quantities of Kamba carvings. Artists responded by developing new styles and
object types, including carved ebony letter openers and salad servers crowned with
Maasai heads, sculpted warriors bearing spear and shield, bookends with elephant motifs,
antelope napkin rings, and models of giraffes, rhinoceroses, and leopards. Although no
two objects are exactly alike, the rapid production in Kamba woodcarving encourages
stylistic homogeneity through imitation. This overwhelming quantity of uniform,
assembly line– produced carvings has often aroused skepticism in the aesthetic
judgments of connoisseurs. For example, John Povey, former editor of African Arts
magazine, remarked during a visit to Kenya on the contradiction between “the
pretensions of ‘artistic’ hand carving and the repetitious copies so unashamedly exposed
in bulk.” Yet, he went on to observe, “the little Volkswagen safari buses with their
cheerful zebra painted stripes seem to deliver the visitors in unceasing hoards” (1970, 1).
As the Kenya government began to realize the financial significance of Kamba art
within the overall framework of international tourism, the carving industry was
reorganized by the Kenya External Trade Authority (KETA) beginning in 1977. This new
arrangement helped to centralize production into four carving cooperatives now capable
of systematically filling even the largest export orders. KETA provided links to
international marketing organizations so that orders could be placed more efficiently, and
encouraged “product development” so that greater varieties of types and styles were
produced. By the mid-1980s, it was estimated that six thousand Kamba artists produced
more than one million carvings a year, both sold locally and exported. In relation to this
flourishing market, Tony Troughear suggested, “the day is approaching when it will no
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longer be possible to dismiss even much of the mass-produced carving as ‘airport art’”
(1987, 21).
While the Kamba had little woodcarving experience prior to their involvement with a
foreign market, the Maconde, from the border region between Tanzania and
Mozambique, have a long carving history. In precolonial times the primary patrons of
Maconde carvers were local. Objects produced for consumers included masks danced at
initiation rites, ancestral female figures, and elaborately carved snuff boxes. The
Maconde continue to produce objects for local use, but starting in the early decades of the
twentieth century—perhaps inspired in part by the Kamba example—artists began adding
to their repertoire many objects intended for Europeans, whose presence was steadily
increasing. Colonial officials commissioned animal-motif souvenirs, while missionaries
encouraged sculptures of the Virgin and relief panels depicting the Stations of the Cross.
Over time the Maconde developed three distinct carving styles: a naturalistic one,
known in Swahili as binadamu (“son of Adam,” or human beings), in which individuals
are portrayed in typical village scenes engaged in daily activities (an elder smoking a
pipe, a woman carrying a cooking pot, etc). A second, agglomerate style, ujaama or
“people pile,” depicts figures stacked one on top of each other, suggesting perhaps a
lineage founder and his descendants. Finally a more abstract style, shetani (in reference
to evil or mischievous spirits found in Maconde religious beliefs), depicts deliberately
misshapen bodies and distorted faces, sometimes with several figures entwined in a
single sculpture. Some have argued that these images of wild demons and frightening
spirits are “a response to the tourist’s view of Africans as superstitious and spirit-ridden,”
and that Maconde art generally is “made to satisfy the expectations of customers who do
not share the values or assumptions of its makers” (Vogel 1991, 238). Others suggest that
shetani images are indeed an authentic, integral part of the Maconde worldview, and that
those who intimate otherwise are motivated by their desire to degrade Maconde art
simply because it falls outside the conventional canons of African art. Maconde art is
“often seen as ‘grotesque’ by connoisseurs of traditional art—a normative judgment,
based on the preference for the more ‘classic’, self-contained precolonial styles” (Kasfir
1992, 48).
Southern Africa
The modern Shona stone sculpture from Zimbabwe dates back to the early 1960s, when
British-born gallery director and entrepreneur Frank McEwen provided the initial catalyst
in establishing the National Gallery Workshop School in Salisbury (now Harare). He
encouraged local artists to develop their skills in his studios, where he deliberately did
not teach or offer models to copy, but simply provided an environment in which they
could “draw out an inner personal vision” (Zilberg 1996, 83). The artists quickly began to
specialize in the production of stone carvings, mostly of abstracted faces emerging out of
a single block of cut steatite, which some have interpreted as the artist’s personal reading
of the traditional Shona spirit worlds. Although this art was developed purely for
commercial purposes, McEwen took great pains to distinguish Shona stone sculpture
from other African commercial art production, all of which he deplored.
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What made Shona sculpture unique or “authentic,” according to McEwen, was its
presumed deep, spiritual connections to primeval Shona traditions found in the carved
stone birds at the ancient ruins of Great Zimbabwe, its pure, mythological subject matter
inspired by dreams and visions that reportedly appeared to the artist in spirit possession,
and its independence from any external influences or market demands. Those who
disagree with McEwen’s position suggest instead that Shona stone sculpture is no
different from any other type of commercially produced art. These critics take the view
that McEwen was largely responsible for “inventing” the idea of Shona sculpture, and for
concocting a corpus of Shona symbols and totemic myths with which to interpret the
works, with little input from the artists themselves. Critics also point out that the term
Shona sculpture itself is a misnomer, as most of the artists are not Shona, but rather
migrant farm laborers of diverse ethnicities from Mozambique, Malawi, Zambia, and
Angola. This ongoing debate over the art-historical status and quality of Zimbabwe
sculpture is highly instructive, as it points to both the complexity and contentiousness of
commercial production in African art history.
Conclusion
African artists involved in commercial production continue to be caught in a web of
conflicting agendas imposed on them by those who consume, and those who critique,
their works. Although some would like to stimulate artistic creativity among artists by
encouraging experimentation with new styles and mediums, others, driven perhaps by a
nostalgia for Africa’s precolonial past, discourage any type of aesthetic change or
innovation. Although some would like to elevate certain forms of commercial art to the
Western category of “high” art, others insist that commercial works are unworthy of such
honor and must be relegated to the status of mere craft. Finally, while some champion the
economic success of struggling commercial artists, others view the financial aspects of
the art trade as defiling the supposed purity of authentic African art. Against this
polemical backdrop, artists across the continent nonetheless maintain their successful
production of a vast array of art objects destined to satisfy the demands of the tourist
trade.
References
Bassani, Ezio. 1979. Nineteenth-Century Airport Art. African Arts 12, no. 2:34–5, 90.
Ben-Amos, Paula. 1976. “A la Recherche du temps Perdu”: On Being an Ebony-Carver in Benin.
In Ethnic and Tourist Arts: Cultural Expressions from the Fourth World, ed. by Nelson H.H.
Graburn. Berkeley: University of California Press.
Ben-Amos, Paula. 1977. Pidgin Languages and Tourist Arts. Studies in the Anthropology of Visual
Communication 4, no. 2:128–39.
Cornet, Joseph. 1975. African Art and Authenticity. African Arts 9, no. 1:52–5.
Fagg, William. 1959. Afro-Portuguese Ivories. London: Batchworth Press.
Kasfir, Sidney Littlefield. 1992. African Art and Authenticity: A Text with a Shadow. African Arts
25, no. 2:41–53.
McEwen, Frank. 1960. Art Promotes Racial Understanding. Museum News. 36–9.
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Povey, John. 1970. First Word. African Arts 3, no. 2:1–2, 92.
Richter, Dolores. 1980. Art, Economics, and Change: The Kulebele of Northern Ivory Coast. La
Jolla: Psych/Graph Publishers.
Troughear, Tony. 1987. Kamba Carving: Art or Industry? Kenya: Past and Present (Nairobi)
19:15–25.
Vogel, Susan. 1991. Extinct Art: Inspiration and Burden. In Africa Explores: 20th Century African
Art. New York: Center for African Art
Zilberg, Jonathan. 1996. Zimbabwean Stone Sculpture: The Invention of a Shona Tradition. Ph.D.
dissertation, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign.
CHRISTOPHER B. STEINER
TRANSLATION
Translation, from the Latin trans-latus, “carried across,” is described in some African
languages as “changing” (Gbaya kpai, Lingala -bongóla; Swahili -geuza). Translation
refers to the process in which a message that was expressed in one language for a first
audience is “changed” or transferred into a second language for communication to a
second audience.
Translation has been important throughout Africa’s history, from the time of early
migrations and empires up to the modern era of nationhood. The significance of oral
translation from one African language to another is implicit in the central African
phenomenon of secret languages that were spoken by young initiates, for whom the only
communication with noninitiates was through interpretation. The role of written
translation is evident in the history of travelers, merchants, missionaries, and colonial
powers who communicated their message from their own language through translation to
African communities and kingdoms over many centuries.
Among the world’s earliest records of the history of translation is Herodotus’s
reference to young Egyptian boys who were taught Greek in order to serve as interpreters
in the fifth century B.C.E. kingdom of Psammetichus III. The Rosetta Stone inscribed
with Egyptian hieroglyphics and demotic writing together with the translation in Greek
dates to the reign of Ptolemy V in the second century B.C.E. In the third and second
centuries B.C.E., in Alexandria, the Hebrew Scriptures were translated into Greek, and
during the early centuries c. E. the Bible was translated into Latin in Carthage, into the
Coptic languages of upper Egypt, and into Ge’ez in Ethiopia and Eritrea.
The earliest written records of translations of Bantu words date to the Arab writers
Hamadani and Masudi of the tenth century. The first known translation of African
folklore into a European language is an Inhambene song in a letter by the Portuguese
priest Andre Fernandez dated December 5, 1562 (Doke 1969, 2–5):
Gombe zuco virato (Cattle have shoe-leather)
ambuze capane virato. (goats no shoe-leather)
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During the nineteenth century, at a time of great interest in Europe in missionary activity
and in folklore scholarship, numerous collections of African oral traditions were
translated into European languages (Scheub 1977). For example, in 1852 the Nigerian
Bishop Samuel Ajayi Crowther published A Vocabulary of the Yoruba Language, which
included over five hundred Yoruba proverbs in English translation. In 1854 the German
missionary Sigismund Koelle published African Native Literature, or Proverbs, Tales,
Fables, and Historical Fragments in the Kanuri or Bornu Language, to which are added
a translation of the above and a Kanuri-English Dictionary.
The translation of African oral traditions continues up to the present day. Scholars
transcribe and translate texts in an extremely literal fashion for scientific analysis. Writers
retell folktales remembered from childhood and publish them for foreign audiences, as
A.C.Jordan has done in Tales from Southern Africa (1977). Modern authors draw
inspiration from traditional motifs and form as in the novels, poems and plays of the
Nigerian writers Amos Tutuola and Nobel Prize winner Wole Soyinka. Or, an artist may
adapt and illustrate a popular African folktale for a children’s book.
As a result of translation under a variety of guises, it is true, as Roger Abrahams
asserts, that “the oral repertoire of Africa is better known than that of any other area of
the world” (1983, xiv). But translation raises serious issues (Okpewho 1992, 347–54). In
addition to the practical problems to be solved, such as how to translate ideophones and
whether to retain extensive repetition in written text, classic distinctions of genre may
become blurred. Prior to translation, the oral text is transcribed, thereby transposing it
from spoken rhythms to formatted lines. Is the artist’s tale then to be presented as
narrative text or as prose poetry? Is the song to appear as free verse or is it dance?
Ethical questions also arise. Folklore by definition belongs to the people, but an oral
performance is created by an artist for an audience. In recording a tale by writing, by
audio recording or by video, a record is made of an event, but what is that event and to
whom does it belong? When a translation is made, does it reflect the social event of the
performance, or is it merely a skeletal storyline? What recognition is owed to the
performer who is all too often lost in the anonymity of translation? What degree of
freedom may an editor exercise in modifying a translation to meet the expectations of a
new audience?
Modern African writers and critics have brought translation into literary discussion as
well. Some argue that their works should be written first in the mother tongue and only
secondly be translated into international languages (Ngugi 1986, 27). Many authors,
however, prefer to create their works in a language like English or French that will reach
a wider audience both in and outside the continent of Africa.
In the polyglot nations of modern Africa, translation is a prominent feature of
everyday life. The mother tongue is spoken in the home, a trade language is spoken in the
market place, a regional language is spoken for business and politics, and an international
language is taught in the schools and is used on a national level. Translation in a myriad
of forms ensures communication in all spheres of life, from the artistic and religious to
the commercial and political.
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References
Abrahams, Roger D., ed., 1983. African Folktales. New York: Pantheon.
Doke, C.M. 1969. The Earliest Records of Bantu. In Contributions to the History of Bantu
Linguistics, eds. C.M.Doke and D.T. Cole. Johannesburg: Witwatersrand University Press.
Jordan, A.C. 1973. Tales from Southern Africa. Berkeley: University of California Press.
Okpewho, Isidore. 1992. African Oral Literature. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Scheub, Harold. 1977. African Oral Narratives, Proverbs, Riddles, Poetry, and Song. Boston: Hall.
Thiongo, Ngugi wa. 1986. Decolonising the Mind: The Politics of Language in African Literature.
London: James Currey.
PHILIP A.NOSS
See also Callaway, Bishop Henry; Linguistics and African Verbal Arts;
Ideophones
TRICKSTERS IN AFRICAN FOLKLORE
A significant number of African folktales feature the trickster figure, whose exploits
appeal to the people’s imagination. No precise data exist on the percentage of the corpus
of any culture’s folktales the trickster subgenre represents, but by one estimate three out
of five Yoruba folktales are about Àjàpá the trickster (Sekoni 1994, 1). The Asante, for
their part, hold Anansi, their trickster, in such high regard that they assign the generic
name anansesem (spider stories) to all their folktales.
Although strikingly human in his habits and tendencies, the trickster is usually an
animal. In some cultures the spider is the primary trickster figure, as is Anansi, Ture of
the Zande, and Gizo among the Hausa. In other cultures it is the Hare, for example
among the Kikuyu Wakaboko, and elsewhere in East and Central Africa, Sungura and
Zomo. The Tortoise enjoys wide popularity especially in western and central Africa; the
Yoruba Àjàpá is a tortoise, as is the Kalahari Ikaki, the Mpongwe Ekaga, and the Ila
Sulwe. Other tricksters are the Gazelle and the Jackal, who hold sway in certain southern
African cultures.
Characteristically, tricksters possess some exceptional physical properties that awe
their human observers, who, as a result, invest them with extraordinary capabilities in
other regards. The Spider impresses humans presumably because it emits yards upon
yards of fine, silky thread from its body, and with it spins webs that seem much larger in
total mass than the body that manufactures them. The Tortoise performs no such magical
feat, but its apparent agelessness, which its wrinkled, scrawny neck and its deliberate
(dignified) gait suggest, and the hard protective shell that always carries with him, are
impressive enough to qualify him as a trickster. As for other tricksters, like the Hare and
the Gazelle, their qualifying asset is their physical agility. In all cases, however,
regardless of the trait that initially qualifies the animal for trickstership, once it has
attained that status it takes on other characteristics of the trickster.
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The tricksters’ endowments are such as confer on them advantages quite
disproportionate to their size in the struggle for survival, especially in those instances
when they confront such formidable adversaries as the Lion or the Elephant. Their world
is one in which every creature must live by his or her wits or perish, and one in which all
is fair in the pursuit of self-preservation. Accordingly, tricksters have time for scruples in
their interactions with the world, their friends and neighbors, or even their own families.
Friends and acquaintances who extend favors to them can expect no reciprocation; rather,
they are more likely to receive betrayals that are often deadly as their reward. Family
members are themselves little more than ready-at-hand sources of exploitable bodies.
Apart from being ungrateful, unreliable, and dishonest cheats, they are also
constitutionally averse to any form of physical exertion, instead scheming to gain their
livelihood at the expense of others. These habits and traits ensure their widespread
notoriety in their communities and beyond, but they somehow succeed in finding dupes
on whom to practice their wiles.
Typically, the trickster tale begins by establishing a relationship (like friendship)
between the trickster and another character. The two next embark on some joint venture,
during which one or the other, usually the trickster, deliberately and premeditatedly
betrays the other’s trust. The conclusion is a termination, in one way or another, of the
relationship that existed at the start. The tricksters’ dupes (so designated because they
often fall victim to the tricksters’ duplicity) are characteristically much larger and more
powerful than their nemeses, but their gullibility, slow-wittedness, or some appetitive
weakness (like greed or excessive fondness for some particular food), makes them
vulnerable to the tricksters’ designs. For example, in a Yoruba tale Tortoise capitalizes on
Elephant’s addiction to honeyed bean fritters (àkàrà) and his vanity. He lures his victim
to his death with the food and the assurance that the townspeople want him to succeed
their dead king, whereas in fact the townspeople need an elephant to sacrifice.
The dupe’s ill-advised, at times inadvertent, entanglement with the trickster does not
always end in fatality. Often it results in no more than discomfiture and loss of face. The
trickster repertoire of many cultures includes stories in which the trickster challenges his
intended victim to a contest in which he vows to beat the latter at his forte. To stick with
Tortoise and Elephant for the moment, the former challenges the latter to a tug-of-war,
and secretly does the same with the Hippopotamus. At the agreed time he gets the two to
pull against each other, each believing that Tortoise at the other end of the rope. The
resulting stalemate results in a loss of face for the two powerful animals, and undeserved
adulation for the trickster. In other examples the trickster challenges fleet-footed Hare to
a race, and surreptitiously stations members of his family at intervals along the route. As
Hare races towards the finish, a member of the trickster’s family emerges from hiding
just ahead of him, and he, incredulous that the trickster has thus far managed to get ahead
of him, redoubles his effort, only to find the trickster already at the finish when he arrives
there.
The trickster’s success in his escapade is by no means assured. In quite a few instances
he fails in his attempt to defraud others, himself falling victim instead to an adversary
cleverer than he bargained for. In other cases, just as his dupes’ weaknesses enable him to
victimize them, so his own shortcomings land him in uncomfortable situation, sometimes
resulting even in his death. The following Thonga tale of Hare (here the trickster) and
Tortoise is an example.
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Hare talks a reluctant Tortoise into joining him in stealing some sweet potatoes from a
farm. When he is satisfied that they have gathered a large enough pile of potatoes, he asks
Tortoise to go and check the entrances to the farm, so as to be sure that they will not be
surprised by the farmer. Tortoise, correctly suspecting that Hare intends to trick him out
of his share of the potatoes, suggests that they both go scouting, each in a different
direction. No sooner is Hare out of sight than Tortoise scurries back to the potato pile and
crawls into Hare’s sack. Hare also sneaks back to the pile, quickly throws the potatoes
into the sack, and hurries homeward with it. Along the way, tired and hungry, he stops for
a meal of sweet potatoes, and is astonished to find Tortoise in the sack. What is more, he
has devoured the better part of the stolen harvest. Tortoise quickly exits the scene before
his devious friend recovers from his shock.
Incidentally, the foregoing story pits two animals with trickster qualifications against
each other, although in this particular culture the trickster is Hare. Since each culture has
but one acknowledged trickster, Tortoise appears here not in a trickster role, even though
his accomplishment would qualify him as such. The story, thus, is not of dueling
tricksters, but one in which an animal that functions as a trickster in one culture plays the
dupe (or intended dupe) in another.
In some instances the repercussion for the trickster’s miscalculation, or his yielding to
his weakness, is some sort of permanent physical deformity. Anansi the Spider’s
dangerously thin waist is a case in point. He once learned that two feasts were set to take
place on a certain day, and he resolved to attend both and gorge himself. Unfortunately
for him, the two feasts were to take place at the same time, and at opposite ends of town,
but his nimble wit obligingly suggested a solution to his dilemma. On the feast day, he
tied two strings to his waist and gave one to one of his children, with instructions to
proceed to one of the feasts. On the appearance of the feast, the child was to pull at the
string, giving him his cue to hurry there and eat his fill. He gave the other string to
another child and dispatched him to the other feast, with the same instructions.
Unfortunately for Anansi, the food appeared at precisely the same moment in both places,
and the children’s pulling at the strings almost bisected Anansi at the waist before he
succeeded in extricating himself. Similar etiological tales explain why the tortoise’s shell
is a mosaic of small panels.
In fairness to the trickster, one must concede that in some situations he is not the
mischief maker but an aggrieved innocent, who wins the observers’ sympathy when he
eventually triumphs. The Hottentot tale involving Elephant and Tortoise is a good
example. At a time of intense drought, Elephant prevails on Crow to use his magical
powers to cause rain, after which he resolves to keep all the available water to himself.
When he goes foraging, he leaves Tortoise to guard his pond and keep all other animals
away. Tortoise succeeds with keeping all comers away except Lion, who gives him a
thorough beating before helping himself to the water. Elephant is so angry on his return
that he swallows Tortoise whole, a foolish move, because Tortoise eats his innards and
escapes when Elephant dies. Tortoise is a sympathetic figure in this tale, which contains a
criticism of Elephant’s antisocial behavior in scheming to deprive other animals of water
in an environment that rather mandates the sharing of that scarce resource.
In some tales the trickster’s character and behavior are indeterminate, that is, neither
edifying nor culpable. A Bakongo story provides an illustration. Gazelle and Leopard
undertake to cultivate a farm, but Leopard finds excuses to be absent on the first two days
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of work. Thereafter, Gazelle excuses himself from the farm, leaving Leopard to do the
rest of the clearing and planting by himself. When the harvest is ready, Gazelle invites his
friends, without Leopard’s knowledge, to feast on it. On discovering the depletion of the
harvest, Leopard sets a trap for the thieves and catches Antelope, whom he kills for food.
In retaliation, Gazelle and his friends entice Leopard into an ambush and kill him. They
share his meat among themselves, and maliciously send the skinned head to Leopard’s
wife as her share. Ignorant of the sort of meat she has received, she eats it, and when,
later, Gazelle taunts her with having eaten her husband, she deflects the blame to Gazelle
because he committed the murder.
The anthropomorphic nature of the trickster is quite deliberate. The trickster is, by
design, a human being in disguise, whose exploits may be highly entertaining to the
human members of his culture, but, more importantly, constitute discourses on acceptable
behavior. Whether he acts in conformity with societal mores or in violation of them, he
provides the moralizer with material to makes his case. Besides, since the world of the
trickster tales postulates an ethos of expediency, one might argue that for the most part,
that is, with the exemption of instances of gratuitous contrariness, we should see the
trickster’s behavior as exemplary. The logic is, if survival and ease are the ultimate
human goals, whatever expedient conduces to them is “good.” Thus, even deceit that
leads to survival and ease must be “good.”
Studies that assign the role of the trickster in some cultures to a god, like Joan
Westcott’s 1962 study of Yoruba Èsù and Fon Legba, and, the Robert Pelton’s 1982
essay, which it inspired, are misconceived because of the human focus of the trickster
phenomenon. For the same reason, instances in which the trickster has occasional
commerce with gods, as Anansi does with Nyankopon, are exceptions rather than the
rule.
References
Evans-Pritchard, E.E., ed. 1967. The Zande Trickster. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Pelton, Robert D. 1980. The Trickster in West Africa: A Study of Mythic Irony and Sacred Delight.
Berkeley: University of California Press.
Owomoyela, Oyekan. 1989. Tortoise Tales and Yoruba Ethos. Research in African Literatures
20:165–80.
——. 1990. The Trickster in Contemporary African Folklore. The World and I 5:625–32.
——. 1997. Yoruba Trickster Tales. Lincoln and London: University of Nebraska Press.
Sekoni, Ropo. 1994. Folk Poetics: A Semiotic Study of Yoruba Trickster Tales. Westport, Conn.:
Greenwood.
Westcott, Joan. 1962. The Structure and Myths of Eshu-Elegba, the Yoruba Trickster: Definition
and Interpretation in Yoruba/ Iconography, Africa 32:336–54.
OYEKAN OWOMOYELA
See also Animals African Folklore; Evans-Pritchard, E.E.; Folktales; Tricksters:
Eshu, The Yoruba Trickster
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TRICKSTERS: ESHU, THE YORUBA
TRICKSTER
Eshu is one of the major orisa (deities) for the Yoruba of western Nigeria. Initially,
foreign scholars equated Eshu with Satan in Christianity and with Shaitan in Islam.
Christian missionaries who came to Yorubaland and translated the Bible into Yoruba
used Eshu for Satan. In the eyes of the early missionaries, Eshu was a devil and,
therefore, an embodiment of evil. However, trying to understand Eshu from the
perspective of Christian religion or Islamic religion invariably leads to an inaccurate
conception of the deity
It is very difficult for a casual observer of Yoruba religion to understand Eshu and his
place in Yoruba beliefs. Eshu is not the personification of evil like Satan or Shaitan. Nor
does Eshu stand in direct opposition to Olodumare (Almighty God). In Yoruba religion,
there are not diametrically opposed embodiments of pure good and pure evil. Rather,
Eshu is positioned as one of the functionaries of Olodumare in His theocratic world. In
Yoruba tradition, it is believed that Eshu maintains relationships with both the spirit and
physical realms. Eshu is the bearer of sacrifices made by human beings to Olodumare and
the orisha. Because he acts as a messenger or go-between for divinity and humankind, he
demands a portion of the sacrifices for himself. If this is not done, Eshu will make sure
that the sacrifices are of no effect and will instead cause more confusion and trouble for
all. Therefore, whenever other orisa receive sacrifices, Eshu’s portion is first set aside
and offered to him. Apart from conveying messages, part of the function of Eshu is to
report human deeds to Olodumare.
Eshu can also be seen as a police chief-type figure. He is ubiquitous, with shrines in
marketplaces, at road junctions, and at the thresholds of cities or houses. Eshu is
ambivalent and amoral in his actions. He is the essence of unformed and undirected
potentiality; he is regarded as the Yoruba trickster god. He is seen as that part of the
divine that tests people. Even though he tempts people, that does, not mean he hates
humans or that he only does harm. He does not discriminate in carrying out errands
whether for good or evil. Eshu is used by the wicked people to cause problems and
tribulations for others; he can also be used as an instrument of retaliation. He can create
enmity between parents and children, or close friends, or cause a person to misbehave or
to act abnormally. At the same time, he can give children to the barren and make the
market women to record good sales and good business deals. Some people also employ
him to collect debts from chronic debtors. That is why the Yoruba say of him “Ke see sa
fun, ko se e duro de” (One you can neither flee from nor wait for). In essence, Eshu is
seen as the divine enforcer, punishing those who do not offer prescribed sacrifices and
also rewarding those who offer appropriate sacrifices. Without Eshu, the dynamics of
Yoruba ritual would not exist. If he is not appropriately appeased, he will retaliate by
blocking the way of blessings and opening up the way of hardship. Therefore, many
people, especially herbalists, priests, and priestesses, maintain a shrine for Eshu to help
them ward off evil and bring peace and prosperity.
Eshu is represented in several ways. He may represented as mud that has been shaped
into human form, with horns on his head and a knife or club in his hand. Small carved
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wooden staffs covered with cowrie shells represent Eshu, with a “horn” projecting from
the back of his head. He may be represented by a rock stuck into the ground, or a clay pot
turned upside down with a hole in the middle. Black or maroon is Eshu’s color.
His favorite foods are grains of maize or beans, black roosters, male goats, and dogs.
Dogs act as a stand-ins for Eshu during sacrifice rituals, eating the sacrifices laid at his
shrine. This ex plains the popular Yoruba saying, “Ohun ti aga maa je, Eus a see” (What
the dog will eat, Eshu would provide it). Eshu’s favorite sacrificial item is red palm oil
(epo pupa). On every service day, red palm oil must be poured on the emblem or image
representing Eshu. The belief is that if Eshu is “dry,” there will be outbreak of trouble
(such as a fight, fire, or epidemic).
The Yoruba see Eshu as a nuanced representative of both good and evil; the attention
paid to him by th Yoruba illustrates their belief in, and acknowledgment of, the presence
and coexistence of good and evil forces in the world.
KAYODE FANILOLA
See also Verbal Arts: African American; Diaspora; Tricksters in African
Folklore
TRICKSTERS: TURE OF THE AZANDE
The Azande, who number some 300,000 persons, live in central Africa, across the
modern countries of the Central African Republic, the Republic of the Congo, and the
Sudan. By the turn of the present century, the Azande became members of an ethnically
diverse confederacy under the political control of a single dominant clan, from which
princes and kings were selected for leadership. Numerous travelers and explorers
traversed Azande country from the mid-1850s through the turn of the last century, but it
is the late E.E. Evans-Pritchard who is still regarded as the leading anthropological
authority on these peoples. He first lived among the Azande of the Sudan in 1926, and
went on to carry out about twenty-two months of fieldwork by 1930. In addition to his
classic monograph, Witchcraft, Oracles, and Magic among the Azande (1937), he
contributed a major collection of Azande folkore, The Zande Trickster (1967) as well as a
unique work shortly before his death, Man and Woman among the Azande (1974).
These folklore studies are especially interesting because Evans-Pritchard himself
collected only a few of the many texts included. The majority of texts were recorded by
Azande students at the University of Khartoum, or Azande individuals who worked with
Evans-Pritchard as assistants during his field work. In this light, The Zande Trickster can
be reasonably compared to some of the work by Franz Boas, and his collaboration with
George Hunt among the indigenous peoples of the northwest coast of North America.
According to Evans-Pritchard, Azande are clever and calculating in conversation: they
recognize the power of words and therefore use them with caution and intention. This is
illustrated by what is known as sanza, or “double talk.” Evans-Pritchard characterized
sanza as a circumlocutory form of speech in which words and gestures have hidden
meanings different from their manifest meanings, generally of a malicious intention. As
Evans-Pritchard (1962, 351) wrote, “Azande are under no illusions about human nature.
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They know very well how spiteful, resentful, jealous, envious, etc. men may be, and they
are also well aware of what psychologists today call projection, that those a man thinks
hate him are often those whom he hates.” He continues (1962, 353), an Azande is
“always on the defensive. He peers out of his shell, like a snail, and then withdraws, and
he sees that all the other snails do the same.” And, hence, from the Azande point of view,
there is the fraility of human relation-ships: can one look into a person as one looks into
an openwoven basket?
These comments provide a background to understanding the central figure of Azande
folklore, Ture, who is an animated and incarnate medium of sanza. Ture is, in the Azande
idiom, a half-animal, half-human being: a creature that is a typical character on the social
scene, but one that is always and ultimately amoral. Ture is the dark side of the Azande
side of human nature. Evans-Pritchard suggests that what Azande (and by extension, all
human beings) see in Ture is the obverse of the appearance we like to present. People are,
like Ture, really animals behind the masks social conventions force us to wear.
In addition to The Zande Trickster, Evans-Pritchard privately published an extensive
inventory of Azande folklore and texts. These works are fully listed in An Introduction to
Evans-Pritchard (Burton 1992).
References
Burton, John W. 1992. An Introduction to Evans-Pritchard. Fribourg: University Press of
Switzerland.
Evans-Pritchard, E.E. 1962. Sanza: A Characteristic Feature of Zande Thought and Language. In
Social Anthropology and Other Essays. New York: Free Press.
——. 1967. The Zande Trickster. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
JOHN W.BURTON
See also Tricksters
TSONGA
See Southern Africa; Southern African Oral Traditions
TSWANA
See Southern Africa; Southern African Oral Traditions
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TUNISIA
The smallest of the North African countries, Tunisia is framed to the north and east by
the Mediterranean, with Libya to the east, and Algeria to the south and west. One of the
Mediterranean’s most famous ancient cities, Carthage, which was destroyed by the
Romans in 149 BCE, was here. The Berber Hafsids, a powerful Berber dynasty, ruled
from 1207 to 1574. Along with most of North Africa, Tunisia was next controlled by the
Ottoman Empire from the end of the sixteenth century, until the French gained control in
the late nineteenth century. In 1883, Tunisia became a French protectorate, and while the
1930s saw much anti-French activity, full independence was not granted until 1956.
Habib Bourguiba became prime minister, then president a year later. Although named
“president for life,” Bourguiba was overthrown in 1987. Although democratic reforms
were introduced, a long struggle with Islamic fundamentalists has resulted in occasional
violence and restriction of political freedoms, as has been the case in neighboring
Algeria.
In terms of language, Tunisia reflects the same tripartite division found throughout the
Maghrib: Berber is spoken by the minority (1 percent of the population) of original
inhabitants, the dominant population speaks Arabic as the official language, and French is
the language of business and government reflecting the later European influence. Nearly
two-thirds of the population is urban, with most living in the capitol of Tunis. Tunisia
enjoys a high rate of literacy—79 percent among males—and education is free through
the university level. There are more constitutional rights for women than in much of
North Africa. Of an estimated population of 9.5 million, nearly 8.4 million are Sunni
Moslems. There are about 20,000 Roman Catholics.
While crude oil is Tunisia’s biggest export, refined oil is its largest import.
Agricultural products comprise 15 percent of its exports, primarily in olive oil, citrus
fruits, and grains. The country also exports a variety of minerals. The tiny country has the
fewest natural resources of any North African country. The recent economic cooperation
treaty with Mauritania, Morocco, Algeria, and Libya may improve its economic status.
Tourism, as elsewhere in the Maghrib, is growing. Ceramics are among the crafts for
which Tunisia is well known.
PHILIP M.PEEK
TUTSI
See Central African Folklore; Rwanda
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TWA
See Central African Folklore; Rwanda
TYPOLOGY AND PERFORMANCE IN
THE STUDY OF PROSE NARRATIVES
IN AFRICA
In the area of folk narrative research, two basic classificatory devices have proven their
usefulness. These are the concepts of the tale-type and the motif. A tale-type is a
complete recurrent tale typically found cross-culturally. Stith Thompson defined it as “a
traditional tale that has an independent existence. It may be told as a complete narrative
and it does not depend for its meaning on any other tale” (1946, 415). A motif is the
smallest narrative unit recurrent in oral literature; motifs are perceived as “those details
out of which full-fledged narratives are composed” (Thompson 1955–1958, I:10).
Some early attempts were made toward developing a “logical” classificatory system
for tales found cross-culturally. One schema sought to order folktales according to their
affinity with Greek myths. Others tried indexing the materials according to the
similarities between a tale and its presumed counterpart in the Grimm Brothers tale
collection. Meanwhile a more widespread approach used recurrent tale titles, salient
phrases and themes (comparable to the current concept of motifs) to accomplish the task.
Such unsystematic approaches have proven ineffective, and often misleading.
Furthermore, during the latter part of the nineteenth century and the early decades of
the twentieth century, the European intellectual milieu was fraught with conflicting
hypotheses and notions concerning the origin and development of lore in general and
folktales in particular. Folklorists’ circles were also charged with a keen sense of
nationalism, romantic and otherwise, coupled with a sense of pride in lore as a national
heritage and the moral right that justifies claims to national ownership of that heritage;
consequently, the creation of certain genres of folktales was accredited to privileged
“races,” or national groups (which did not include any of the peoples of Africa). Such
theories attributed the origins of the materials concerned to common heritage from a
parent Indo-European language, to India, to early man’s attempts to understand the
behavior of heavenly bodies, to the power of these materials to survive the evolutionary
stages of “Savagery” and “Barbarism,” to the disintegration of an exclusive ritualistic
liturgy of a priestly class, among other suppositions (Dorson 1972). Proponents of these
and other hypotheses were able to display numerous examples that seemed to validate
their claims. Yet, the facility with which examples supporting one interpretive viewpoint
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or claim could be cited, was readily matched by the ease with which similar examples
were marshaled by exponents to discredit that claim. No “theory” was able to prevail on
the merits of being irrefutable. It is against these impressionistic generalizations that the
“Historic-Geographic Method” (also known as the Finnish School and as the comparative
approach) was developed. The concept of tale-type was its basic tool and the international
tale-type—in all its available variants—was its basic unit of inquiry. The ordering and
classifying of the folktales shared throughout the world was the first step towards a
scientific method.
Recently, there have been attempts to use morphological patterns as criteria for
indexing and classifying tales. However, the proposed structural systems seem to be
impractical for that purpose.
The overriding concerns of the Finnish School (and its historic-geographic method)
were the questions as to when (the historic) and where (the geographic) did these
remarkable cultural expressions originate, what was their exact nature at the time and
place of their first emergence, and why did they assume their present characteristics
(among other directly related questions). This interest led to emphasizing questions of
origins and attempts to reconstruct the original text in which a tale was first told: the Ur
form (or Archetype). Due to numerous factors, Africa and African tales were assigned
marginal roles in these attempts. This goal of establishing a tale’s original form, however,
has not been attained, and, consequently, the school’s importance has diminished
considerably.
Identification of Tale-Types
Rarely does the process of identifying the tale-type to which a narrative belongs prove to
be simple. Usually it is only within the context of evident variants, potential variants, and
texts with some similarities, that the typology of a tale can be established. Similar but
independent tale-types frequently overlap and share certain motifs or episodes. Textual
variations generated by characteristic differences in the sociocultural milieu and the
natural environment (i.e., a narrator’s worldview) must be taken in account. Also, the
contents of a tale-type may differ from one narrator to another, particularly along lines of
gender differences, and from region to region; they also change within the same
community over time due to social and cultural changes. The process of type
identification is constrained further by the nature of the Tale-Type Index. Naturally,
Aarne’s original Index was oriented toward Western European materials, and it became
the de facto yardstick with which tales from various cultures are reckoned.
Applying the Aarne-Thompson typology to non-European materials for the purpose of
identifying international tales produced uneven results in various parts of the globe. For
many countries, or cultures, particularly northern Africa, the index proved to have only
partial relevance. In some other parts, especially in culture areas designated as subSaharan Africa, the type-index proved to be of even less usefulness. Thus, the system fell
short of its intended objective of universality. It may be argued here that much of that
deficiency is due mainly to shortcomings in the editorial aspects of the index itself (ElShamy 1980, 237–38). Nonetheless, the need for another system of classification
emerged. Thompson wrote: “if any attempt is made to reduce the traditional narrative
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material of the whole earth to order (as, for example, the scientists have done with the
worldwide phenomena of biology), it must be by means of classification of single motifs”
(Thompson 1955–1958, I:10).
The Motif Index of Folk Literature was introduced in 1932 to meet this need for an
inclusive universal coverage. However, if applied as the primary criterion and
independently of the tale-type, the motif proves too fragmentary to be an effective and
meaningful means by which entire repertoires are to be classified (Clark 1957).
As of yet, no satisfactory classificatory tool other than the concept of the tale-type has
been devised. Nevertheless, AarneThompson’s The Types of the Folktale, as it stands
now, is of limited applicability to African tales, south as well as north of the Sahara.
Morphological Patterns as Bases for Classification
In his innovative study on the morphology of the “Wonder-tale,” published in Russian in
1928, Vladimir Propp (1984) introduced a completely different concept for the
classification of the “wonder-tale,” typically referred to as Märchen or fairy tale. He
designated thirty-one sequence patterns (functions) which he argued constituted the
characteristic structure for that genre of folk narration. Propp clarified that not all of these
functions are necessarily found in every tale, but those which are present will occur in the
same sequence (Propp 1984, 23–4). Functions (i.e., syntagmatic structures) are not
determined by actors nor by action—as is the case with Aarne-Thompson tale-types—but
rather according to the sequence or role of the action (Propp 1984, 67).
The potential for applying the new structural model for classificatory use generated
considerable interest. With reference to East African tales, E.O.Arewa expressed his
desire to develop a “typology based on structural and morphological criteria.” He,
however, concluded that he “found this approach to be an impossible assignment (1980,
6).
Another morphological pattern emerged. In lieu of Propp’s thirty-one possible linear
sequences of events (which he opted to label functions), Denise Paulme (1976) proposed
seven structural models, according to a set of traits on a circular compass. In terms of the
nature of action/plot the patterns designated are: (1) ascendant; (2) descendant; (3)
cyclical; (4) spiral; (5) mirror; (6) hourglass; and (7) complex. This model was adopted,
in part, for classification of Malagasy tales.
In this respect, these morphological patterns, while very significant in revealing
universal patterns of thought, have limited relevance in the task of indexing or archiving
and providing researchers with variants of specific texts. Grouping thousands of texts in a
collection (archival or printed) in thirty-one, or in seven morphological patterns—which
are not always stable cross-culturally—would be of little practical use.
In spite of the fact that as classificatory devices, the tale-type and motif have come
under severe criticism and a number of substitutes—such as morphological/taxonomic
schemas—were proposed, they still remain the most viable work tools in the area of
identification, classification, archiving, and retrieving narrative lore—the first step in a
truly objective and scientific inquiry. The availability of a representative sample of the
renditions of a single tale-type is the minimum prerequisite for any objective study,
regardless of that study’s theoretical orientation.
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Currently there is no comprehensive tale-type index for narrative folk traditions of
Africa and adjacent Middle Eastern countries. The available indexes only partly meet
research needs. The two indexes which deal with more than a single culture area in Africa
(Klipple’s 1992; Aarne-Thompson’s 1961), though valuable, are incomplete and
outdated. An index that treats Arabic tales includes the northernmost tier of Africa
(Nowak 1969), but excludes what is narrowly perceived as non-Arabic including
“African” data (El-Shamy 1988, 154).
Due to the shortcomings and difficulties inherent in the process of identifying and
classifying multiple cultures according to a single classificatory system, scholars opted
for regional (or culture area) or national indexes. With reference to the African folktale,
of the four major indexes, three address only “black” Africa, while the other treats partly
“Arab” Africa. All four have maintained the concepts of tale-type and motif as the basic
classificatory devices. One index (Haring’s) adopted a different theoretical stance with
morphological patterns as the primary criterion for classification; yet, the tale-type and
motif were also used as the actual classificatory devices.
Antti Aarne and Stith Thompson’s The Types of the Folktale (1961) attempts a global
coverage and is the most comprehensive work available on folk narratives, but its
presentation of the African materials is derived almost totally from May Augusta
Klipple’s work. Major deficiencies limit the usefulness of the Aarne-Thompson index.
First, only a fragment of the published collections from Africa and the Middle East were
included. Second, only a fraction of the tales which comply with the designated contents
of the Aarne-Thompson tale types in the collections it treated were recognized; for
example, of the approximately twenty-five tale-types clearly identifiable in Littmann’s
collection from the Tigré of Ethiopia (1910), only one (AT 1262, “Roasting the Meat”) is
cited in the Type Index (El-Shamy 1980, 237).
May Augusta Klipple’s African Folktales with Foreign Ana-logues (1992) (written in
1938) constitutes the main source for African materials in Thompson’s second revision
and expansion of the type-index. It treats only “black” African narratives but allows for
few black groups that are typically viewed as part of northern Africa such as Nubians
(Egypt and Sudan) and inhabitants of Kordofan (Sudan). Klipple’s index is based on the
1928 edition of the type-index and, therefore, it represents an earlier stage of the AarneThompson classificatory system. Several “new” tale-types were added to the later edition
(1961) of the Aarne-Thompson index. Furthermore, it treats only narratives with
“international” typological qualities (mostly found outside Africa); such tales constitute
only a portion of African narrative lore.
Also, no attempt was made in Klipple’s published edition (1992) to update her list of
tale-types. Numerous texts she identified only by key motifs are actually tale-types.
These include the following motifs: “Magic Speaking Reed (Tree). Betrays Secret”;
“Man Marries Girl Who Guesses His Riddles”; “The Pot Has a Child and Dies”; “The
Ass Without a Heart”; “Reward for Accomplishment of Task Deceptively Withheld”; and
“Reductio ad Absurdum: The Decision about the Colt.”
Erastus Ojo Arewa’s A Classification of Folktales of the Northern East African Cattle
Area by Types (1980) is concerned with only one of Africa’s culture areas. In congruence
with Aarne-Thompson index, Arewa applied a “combination of both the thematic
approach and the formal approach; the formal, being used only to classify formula tales”
(Arewa 1980, 6). The formula, in this situation, is not synonymous with morphological
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(in the Proppian sense or that of Lévi-Strauss); rather, it designates a category of tales in
which the form dominates over the narrative contents. The system Arewa actually
adopted is “based on arranging the African materials into thematic groups with reference
to the Motif Index” (Arewa 1980, 7) that offers more classificatory categories (chapters)
than does the type index (El-Shamy 1995, I:xiv–xvi). He designated 4350 types (1–
4350); the actual number of tale-types designated is far less, since a considerable number
of the tale-type slots were left as blanks for future additions (a practice begun in AarneThompson’s taletype index).
Arewa matched sixty-one of the East African tales he treated with their counterparts in
the Aarne-Thompson index. Yet, scores of other texts with obvious Aarne-Thompson
typological qualities were not identified. These happen to be tale-types which occur
frequently in North African countries and the southern Arabian Peninsula. Thus, it may
be concluded that the shared narrative traditions between that East African culture area
and the rest of the world is greater than current academic literature indicates. This is also
the case with other culture areas throughout the continent.
Examples of texts that clearly correspond to the Aarne-Thompson tale-type system
include the following: Arewa’s type 3248 corresponds to AT 136A* “Confession of
Animals” (El-Shamy 1980 No. 51); Arewa’s 3974 corresponds to AT 315A “The
Faithless Sister” (El-Shamy 1980, 242–244); Arewa’s 3492 corresponds to AT 872*,
“Brother and Sister” (El-Shamy 1999, No. 46); and Arewa’s 3346 corresponds to AT
313E*, “Girl Flees from Brother who Wants to Marry Her” and an adaptation of a tale
similar to the ancient Egyptian tale of the “Two Brothers,” designated as a new tale type:
318B§, “Murdered Person (Lover, Husband, Brother) Brought Back to Life through
Repeated Reincarnations (Transformations)” (El-Shamy 1999 Nos. 46 and 25
respectively).
Winifred Lambrecht’s, A Tale Type Index for Central Africa (1967) follows in the
footsteps of Arewa’s work. The author pointed out some inconsistency in Arewa’s
divisions of “animal tales” and “ordinary tales,” and the role accorded the “dramatic
persona in assigning a tale to one category or the other” (1967, 4). Her divisions (1–4550)
correspond to Arewa’s system except for one new chapter (nos. 4251–4450), which she
labeled “Personality Traits and Customs”; the rest of Lambrecht’s divisions, from number
1 to number 4350, duplicate Arewa’s classificatory schema. These “personality traits and
customs” are not character motivation. Lambrecht specified (1967, 58) that stories
classified under this rubric “are merely description or statements, and, as such do not
represent cause-effect relationships or the presence of lack and the resolution of that
lack,” as per A.Dundes’s morphological schema (1967, 6).
Lee Haring’s Malagasy Tale Index (1982) presents a synthesis of Aarne-Thompson’s
themes and Paulme-Propp’s morphological patterns. Haring classified some 850
Malagasy texts (published in European languages) into seven morphological categories.
However, from a utilitarian standpoint, classification in the Haring schema is actually
achieved through utilizing a combination of tale-type and motif, rather than the structural
attributes. Some of the tale-type identification seem to be based on superficial similarities
with the tale-type. Such is the case, for instance, with the Malagasy tale in which a youth
seeks “trouble” or to learn “what poverty is” which Haring identifies as belonging to AT
326, “The Youth Who Wanted to Learn What Fear Is” (“1.7.326”—Haring 1982, 227–
30, 482).
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Conclusions
A universal tale-type index or a motif-index, though theoretically possible to develop, has
proven impossible to achieve from a practical perspective. Consequently, the need for
indices addressing more manageable amounts of data pertaining to less diverse groups led
to the development of regional indices. In all instances, the key concept of a tale-type has
been maintained. These regional indices offer much more data than a universal tale-type
index does. Unfortunately, all followed in the footsteps of the original index of dealing
with undifferentiated “national,” “ethnic,” or “culture” groups: the individual narrator and
his or her social affiliations are still not accounted for (El-Shamy 1988, 1988a). As such,
these useful indices were merely reflecting the general view in folklore scholarship that
culture differences exist among various national, ethnic, or racial groups, rather than
among specific social categories within folk communities.
It is also evident that the typological qualities of an international tale-type in Africa
can be effectively identified not solely through comparisons with its European parallels
as designated in the Aarne-Thompson index, but rather within the context of other
African counterparts. The developing of an inclusive and comprehensive “Tale-Type
Index for Folk Narratives in Africa,” which would build on that which has been
accomplished, is needed. The new index(s) should also provide vital data about the
narrators (e.g., gender, age, religious affiliation, social status, and so on). Such a work
would provide scholars with an essential tool for approaching the complex and varied
questions they pose about culture, society, personality, literary genres, world views, oral
history and more significantly, the tales themselves and their meanings.
References
Aarne, Antti, and Stith Thompson. 1961. The Types of the Folktale. Helsinki: Academia
Scientiarum Fennica.
Arewa, E.Ojo. 1980. A Classification of Folktales of the Northern East African Cattle Area by
Types. New York, Arno Press.
Clark, Kenneth W. 1957. A Motif Index of the Folktales of Culture Area V: West Africa. M.A.
thesis, Indiana University, Bloomington.
Dorson, Richard M. 1972. Concepts of Folklore and Folklife Studies. In Folklore and Folklife: an
Introduction, ed. R.M. Dorson. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Haring, Lee. 1982. Malagasy Tale Index. Helsinki. Academia Scientiarum Fennica.
Klipple, May Augusta. 1992. African Folktales with Foreign Analogues. New York and London:
Garland.
Lambrecht, Winifred. 1967. A Tale Type Index for Central Africa. Ph. D. dissertation, University
of California, Berkeley.
Littmann, Enno. 1910. Tales, Customs, Names, and Dirges of the Tigré Tribes. Leiden: Brill.
Nowak, Ursula. 1969. Beiträge zur Typologie des arabischen Volksmärchen. Ph.D. dissertation,
Freiburg im Breisgau.
Propp, Vladimir, 1984. Morphology of the Folktale, ed. Svantava P. Jakobson, trans. Lawrence
Scott. Farmington, Ind.
Shamy (El-), Hasan M. 1980. Folktales of Egypt: Collected, Translated and Edited with Middle
Eastern and [sub- Saharan] African Parallels. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
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——. 1988. Towards A Demographically Oriented Type Index for Tales of the Arab World. In
Cahiers de Littérature Orale; La tradition au present (monde arabe) 23, ed. Praline Gay-Para:
Paris: Publication Langues O.
——. 1988a. A Type Index for Tales of the Arab World. Fabula 29, nos. 1–2:150–63.
——. 1995. Folk Traditions of the Arab World: a Guide to motif Classification, 2 vols.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
——. 1999. Tales Arab Women Tell: And the Behavioral Patterns they Portray. Collected,
translated, edited, and interpreted. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Thompson, Stith. 1946. The Folktale. New York: Holt.
——. 1955–1958. Motif-Index of Folk Literature. 6 vols. Bloomington, Indiana University Press.
HASAN M.EL-SHAMY
See also Dilemma Tales; Folktales; Initiation; Old Man and Old Woman;
Orphan Motif
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U
UGANDA (REPUBLIC OF UGANDA)
The East African country of Uganda is surrounded by Tanzania, Rwanda, the Democratic
Republic of the Congo, Sudan, Kenya, and Lake Victoria, with a climate that ranges from
tropical to semiarid. Its population of 22.21 million include the Bantu, Nilotic, NiloHematic, and Sudanic ethnic groups. Major languages spoken in the country are English,
Kiswahili, Luganda, Iteso, Soga, Acholi, Lugbara, Nyakole, and Nyoro. Sixty-six percent
of the nation is Christian, 18 percent practice traditional indigenous religions, and 16
percent are Muslim. Kampala, the nation’s capital and largest city, is home to 773,000
people.
On October 9, 1962, Uganda gained its independence from Britain after sixty-nine
years of colonial rule. When the British first administered a protectorate over the nation
in 1893, they used the popular colonial tactic of “divide and conquer” to rule the nation.
Uganda’s territory includes two distinct geographic zones, the northeastern plains and the
southern highlands. Beginning in the sixteenth century, both areas were inhabited by
several African kingdoms. Upon seizing the nation, Britain implemented a program of
“indirect rule” through which the ruling class of the southern highlands were chosen to
assist the colonial government. With this long history of a segregated nation, interethnic
tensions and violence troubled the nation even after independence. Uganda’s precarious
situation was worsened by the oppressive rule of several dictators culminating in Idi
Amin’s regime in 1971. Under these repressive governments, hundreds of thousands of
Ugandans were murdered by the state. In 1972, Asians were expelled and Amin’s rule
became increasingly brutal. A force comprised of the Tanzanian army and Ugandan
exiles drove Amin out in 1979. President Yoweri Museveni was elected in 1986 (after
Obote’s second government was overthrown in 1985) and recent years have seen a return
to peace.
Uganda’s economy has subsequently improved. Exported natural resources include
copper and other minerals, timber, and fish, while the agricultural sector produces coffee,
tea, and cotton. Principle industries include processed agricultural goods, cement, shoes,
fertilizer, steel, and beverages. Unfortunately, Uganda was one of the first African
nations struck by the HIV/ AIDS epidemic. Many thousands of Ugandans have died of
the disease, though the situation may be improving.
A number of Ugandan peoples are well-known due to extensive ethnological studies.
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A number of these ancient peoples, such as the Buganda, Lugbara and Bunyoro, have
persisted and continue to practice their traditional arts.
JENNIFER JOYCE
URBAN FOLKLORE: A SUDANESE
EXAMPLE
For a long time, studies of folklore in the Sudan have been biased against urban folk
groups. This can best be demonstrated by the complete absence of urban folklore studies
in the publications issued by the Department of Folklore of the Institute of African and
Asian Studies at the University of Khartoum. An excellent site for the study of urban
folklore forms is the Sudan Textile Factory, located in Khartoum, with tens of thousands
of workers who come from different parts of the Sudan. Workers at the Sudan Textile
Factory qualify as a folk group because they share a number of factors, such as their jobs
at the factory, as well as their ethnic associations and the neighborhoods in which they
live.
Most definitions of folklore are inadequate for such folk groups in an urban setting. In
a context as dynamic as the urban situation of Khartoum, it is very difficult, and even
impractical, to delimit genres. To solve this problem, a performance-oriented definition
needs to adopted. This entry uses the definition given by Roger Abrahams, who believes
that the term folklore applies to “those traditional items of knowledge which arise in
recurring performance” (1970, 195). Therefore, folklore in this discussion is meant to
indicate a cultural behavior and a communicative process. A genre might consist of
words, such as nicknames, games, or physical objects. What qualifies a certain item for a
genre is the way it is accepted, adopted, and transmitted among the workers. In any case,
a genre is transmitted and performed through a communicative process.
Jocular Genres
Jokes and jocular anecdotes are widely used by the workers at Sudan Textile Factory,
mainly when they get together in their free time. Though most of the workers have a rich
repertoire of jokes, not every worker is a good joke teller. Since telling jokes needs a
degree of specialization, only a few workers are accepted as successful. Those recognized
joke tellers do not only narrate jokes; they also invent jokes about the people and the
machines of the factory.
Generally, the joke is thought to be a playful judgment of something or someone
presented in a humorous expression. The meaning of this expression is a code that is not
recognized by everybody, but is easily understood by the members of the same folk
group—that is, the workers. Ideally, jokes are new for the audience; so the joke tellers
among the workers do not perform the same joke repeatedly.
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Jokes inside the factory, as in every other place, tend to be in a series: religious jokes,
political jokes, and so forth. These series are usually performed in joke sessions.
Sometimes a joke might be narrated while all the workers are having a cup of tea during a
break, or possibly in the bus on the way home from work.
Most of the jokes collected from the workers were told in joke sessions. In most of
these jokes, the dramatic personae are considered abnormal figures, such as a man with
an exceptionally large penis, a homosexual youth, or a dogmatic religious figure. But in
the anecdotes, the dramatic personae are usually depicted as real persons, such as a
certain colleague or a foreman. Prominent figures, primarily the president of the country,
are often made dramatic personae for a good number of the jokes and anecdotes. In fact,
this is not only a characteristic of jokes in the factory society, but it is widely observed in
the Sudanese community at large.
Moreover, foremen and the heads of departments are central characters for a
considerable number of jokes and jocular anecdotes. Ethnic jokes are also widely spread
inside the factory. In these jokes the punch line or the main theme usually aims at making
fun of other ethnic groups by illustrating the superiority of the narrator’s ethnic group.
For instance, there is a joke about a newcomer on his first visit to the factory that
ridicules his naive and unsophisticated reactions, primarily his reaction to the whistle that
indicates timing in the factory. This joke has been narrated in at least three versions. In
these versions, the dramatic personae are individuals from various ethnic groups, such as
Shaiygi, Dinka, and Mahassi.
Each ethnic group focuses on a specific individual from other ethnic groups. Such
jokes might be taken as ethnic slurs. Inside the factory, each ethnic group has its own
jocular figure who is usually a good joke teller; sometimes he is the dramatic personae of
several narratives. For instance, the westerners have Abu Digne and the Shaiygi have Al
Sanjak as the main characters. Here are a few examples of such ethnic jokes:
Al Sanjak’s wife annoyed her husband by continually requesting him to
bring her a pair of slippers. At last he promised her to do so. She reminded
him to take the size of the slippers. He retorted: “I know it by heart since
your foot is on my shoulders every day!”
A Westerner, seeing the River Nile for the first time in his life,
exclaimed: “What a Fula!” (large water ditch).
An “Arab” on his first visit to the cinema was astonished to see film
stars fighting and he shouted to the audience,
“Oh, men, this is shameful! Why don’t we go and settle these
disputes?” [This joke is told by someone from southern Sudan].
Jocular figures usually perform the humorous narratives in a sort of minishow. These
informal performances often occur during breaks from work or after meals. In one of
these minidramas, Zakaria, who worked in the dyeing section, performed a funny
narrative, the subject of which was a clash between Zakaria and his foreman. Zakaria
dramatized the whole episode and the audience participated in the show, which depicted
how cowardly and snobbish the foreman was. In another performance, a Nubian worker
acted out a humorous narrative in which he dramatized how he saved himself by escaping
from a bar which had been raided by the police. Most of these minishows are repeatedly
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performed, so the workers are usually acquainted with the repertoire of the performer. In
some cases, the performer might be asked to present a specific episode. In such cases,
whenever the narrator happens to forget any detail, members of the audience are usually
anxious to remind him. These performances, moreover, contain some elements of folk
dramas, such as an actor and an audience. But they lack other elements, such as costumes
or decorations. These minishows could be incorporated into folk dramas, but the fact that
they are usually performed by humorous figures relates them to the jocular narratives.
Graffiti
A subgenre, graffiti, is one of those peripheral genres of folklore which are usually found
in a recorded visual form. Graffiti is usually found on posters and drawings on walls,
sometimes on doors or windows. Any suitable surface can be used. In the Sudan Textile
Factory, this subgenre is widely observed in the dyeing section, and to a lesser degree in
the weaving department, but it is hardly ever observed in the embroidery department. In
the dyeing section the availability of the material to write with (i.e., the dyes) allows the
workers to express themselves in graffiti. In the embroidery section, however, general
cleanliness is strictly observed (another relevant factor is that there are more women than
men in the latter section). Graffiti is perceived as shouting or boasting, actions
traditionally encouraged among men but discouraged among women. Related to the
graffiti are the posters that are widely used throughout the city of Khartoum. These
posters are fixed on cars, walls, doors, and any other suitable surfaces. The major theme
of the posters is the fear of the Evil Eye, and sometimes an eye is drawn on a poster. One
of these posters was fixed on a newly installed electric machine, certainly in an effort to
protect the machine from the Evil Eye. Sometimes, a wall might be decorated with
posters that carry an advertisement, such as “My Toyota is Fantastic.”
Women’s Folklore
Several factors constrain observing and collecting the expressive behavior of the female
workers inside, as well as outside, the factory. The percentage of the females in the
factory is very small, not exceeding 1 percent. The majority are found in the embroidery
department. In fact, this department is dominated by females, in sharp contrast to other
departments.
Some folkloric genres might be considered a part of women’s folklore specifically,
such as folk dress. It is easily observed inside the factory that women are keen to adopt
exotic fashions, especially Egyptian. At the beginning of the twenty-first century, it is
difficult to find a woman in the urban setting who has mushat (the classic Sudanese
hairstyle). On the other hand, inside the factory, the tobe (traditional Sudanese folk
dress), still dominates among women.
In brief, women’s folklore inside the factory is slightly different from that which is
performed outside the factory, although in both locations their behavior and dress are
clearly linked to their gender. Many note that the behavior of the women generally
reflects the impact of the mass media, particularly television. This can be observed
African folklore
980
primarily in their hairstyles and the wearing of earrings. These fashions are mainly
Egyptian. Egyptian soap operas and television shows are especially popular, and
Egyptian television stars serve as models for the workers.
Both new and traditional forms of folklore are continually employed by the factory
workers of Khartoum. Urban men and women of various ethnic groups continue to
express themselves through folklore, just like their rural counterparts.
References
Abrahams, Roger D. 1970. Complex Relations of Genre. Genre 2.
——. 1976. The Complex Relations of Single Forms. In Folklore Genres, ed. D.Ben-Amos.
Austin: University of Texas Press.
Ben-Amos, Dan. 1975. Folklore Genres. Austin: University of Texas Press.
Degh, Linda. 1972. Folk Narratives. In Folklore and Folklife, ed. Richard M.Dorson. Bloomington:
Indiana University Press.
Farer, Clair R. 1978. Women and Folklore: Images and Genres. Journal of American Folklore 88.
Galal-el-Din, Mohamed El Awad. 1974. The Factors Influencing Migration to the Three Towns of
the Sudan. Journal of Economic and Social Studies 1.
Gelman, Susan. 1978. Towards the Study of Postal Graffiti: Text and Context in an Adolescent
Girls’ Genre. Western Folklore 37.
Jansen, William Hugh. 1978. Purposes and Functions in Modern Local Legends of Kentucky. In
Varia Folklorika, ed. Alan Dundes. Paris: Mouton.
Mahjoub, Asia. 1977. Tradition and Urbanization in an African Metropolitan Area. Unpublished
M.A. thesis, Institute of African and Asian Studies, University of Khartoum.
Paredes, Americo, and Ellen J.Stekert, eds. 1971. The Urban Experience and the Folk Tradition.
Austin: University of Texas Press.
MOHAMED EL-MAHDI BUSHRA
See also Gender Representation in African Folkore; Northeastern Africa (The
Horn); Popular Culture
URBAN FOLKLORE: THE SWAHILI OF
ZANZIBAR
Three factors have contributed significantly to Zanzibar’s development into a
cosmopolitan city. The first is its geographic location. Lying close to the East African
coast, on the Indian Ocean, Zanzibar is well placed for contact with countries across the
seas. The monsoon winds traditionally facilitated trade with the Middle East, and trade
was also conducted with mainland Africa and India.
The second factor is migration. As early as the second century BCE, an anonymous
Greek traveler notes (in The Periplus of the Erythrean Sea) the mixture of peoples
existing on the coast. Through settlement and marriage over several centuries, a group
emerged speaking the same language, Swahili, and sharing a culture that was influenced
as much by the customs of Africa as by Muslim values from the Middle East.
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The third factor is foreign rule. After 1498, when Vasco da Gama found his way to
India via the Cape of Good Hope, the Portuguese, the French, the German, and the
British joined the Arabs in ruling intermittently over East African territories. In their
wake came missionaries and settlers. The Roman Catholic and Anglican Churches had a
strong presence in Zanzibar by the end of the nineteenth century, just as Muslim clerics
had in previous years (and continued to have). By the mid-1950s—less than a decade
before the Zanzibar Revolution of 1964—European, Arab, and Asian communities lived
in the Zanzibar Old Town. The Swahili however, lived in ng’ambo—literally, the “other
side” of town.
A social hierarchy developed during the colonial period. Europeans were at the top,
followed by the Indians, the Arabs, and lastly, the Africans, including the Swahili. Each
of these communities brought to the island their stories and folklore. The British, as rulers
since 1895, introduced stories from Europe into the country-wide school curriculum.
Children learned the stories of Cinderella, Goldilocks, Little Red Riding Hood, Dick
Whittington, Hansel and Gretel, William Tell, and Jack and the Beanstalk. The Indians
and the Arabs also introduced stories in the classroom, but only in their own schools.
Indian stories included the tales of the Moghuls, the love story of Nur Jehan and Shah
Jehan, the building of the Taj Mahal, and legends from the Ramayana and the
Mahabharata.
It is worth noting that Swahili perceptions of Europeans and Indians are reflected in
their language, Swahili. Europeans (wazungu) have two types of fruits named after them:
embe ya kizungu (a European mango), which is smaller than the typical variety and tastes
different, and ndizi ya kizungu (a European banana), which is larger and sweeter than the
other types common to the region. Until recently, one way of telling time was also
spoken of as “European” or “zonal” so as to distinguish it from “the time of the mosque”
used for marking Muslim prayer times. Europeans, as rulers, were also associated with
military might. Quite a few dance societies emerged in East Africa, including Zanzibar,
which imitated the organizational structure of a colonial regiment, especially the British
model, with ranks, titles, drills, and other activities (Ranger 1975).
Indians were considered shrewd businessmen, with an innate talent for accumulating
wealth. Swahili novels evoke two Indian stereotypes: the small shopkeeper who sets up
his business in remote villages, and the successful urban businessman who employs the
Swahili. The word for an Indian is mhindi, derived from Hind (India); the Swahili employ
the term mahindi for maize as well. The commercial link with India is reflected in a
proverb quoted in a well-known anthology by the renowned missionary William Taylor
(d. 1927), who had worked in Mombasa. The proverb conveys the sense that, whatever
their economic condition may be in East Africa, they are like any other people in their
own country: “Hindi ndiko kwenyi nguo, na wendao tupu wapo” (India, that is the
country of clothes [place possessing clothes]: and yet there are those who go naked)
(Taylor 1891, 19).
Another proverb common among the Swahili concerns the Baniyani, a term that refers
to a member of a Hindu community. The Baniyani were craftsmen, shopkeepers,
employees in the civil service, or teachers. As Hindus, they cremate their dead, a fact
captured in a simile by the Swahili: “Umeadimika kama kaburi la Baniyani” (you are rare
like the grave of a Baniyani), which is usually told to someone whom one has not seen in
a long time.
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Although the Arabs were placed third in the colonial hierarchy, their status was
considered to be much higher by the Swahili. Centuries of contact between these two
groups had generated a closeness reflected in shared Muslim values, literature, song,
music and other cultural traditions. It is perhaps not surprising that the Swahili word for
civilization is ustaarabu (to be like an Arab). Interestingly, the word for culture in current
use is utamaduni, an Arabic derivative related to the concept of urbanism. Arab urbanism
finds ample expression in Swahili tales and stories. In 1870, Bishop Steere of Zanzibar
had published volume titled Swahili Tales, As Told by Natives of Zanzibar. In his
introduction, Steere speaks of the tales as falling into three categories, one of which is “a
court dialect whose style is more Arabic in its forms and vocabulary than the rest, and is
characteristically represented by a strict translation of an Arab story” (1870, ix).
Arab stories were more prevalent among the Swahili than were Indian or even
European ones. Any average Swahili individual was familiar with Arab tribal lore.
Particularly well known were the tragic love stories of An tar and Abla and of Layla and
Majnun. Most popular of all were the stories of the wily Abunuwasi, a character from the
court of the Abbasid Caliph Harun al-Rashid in Baghdad (d. 809). The poet Abu Nuwas
(d. 815) was famous for his love and erotic poetry and his witty lyrics (he composed
several poems in praise of wine). Abu Nuwas appears as a folklore character in The
Thousand and One Nights. It is possible that the character Abunuwasi of Swahili tales is
based on the character in the Nights, for he is now transformed into a clever and wily
person who lives by his wits and is always willing to help the poor. The text, Hekaya za
Abunuwasi [The Wiles of Abunuwasi], has run in many editions and is still popular. The
following is a brief example:
Abunuwasi borrows a saucepan from his neighbour. He keeps it for some
time and then returns it together with a smaller one of similar make.
Abunuwasi explains to his puzzled neighbour that, during the period that
the saucepan was with Abunuwas, it had given birth. Abunuwasi insists
that the neighbour should keep the baby saucepan as it is rightfully his.
Just to humour Abunuwasi, the neighbour keeps the little saucepan.
Abunuwasi again borrows the bigger saucepan but, this time, he keeps it
for months. One day, the neighbour asks for it, only to be told by
Abunuwasi that, during its stay with him, the saucepan died. The
neighbour is furious: “How can a saucepan die?” Abunuwasi replies: “I
am afraid it did. You know that it gave birth. You have the baby at home,
don’t you? You know that, naturally, whatever gives birth is sure to die
someday. And it did.”
Abunuwasi’s cunning is matched in Swahili lore by the ubiquitous hare, who appears in
several stories shared with the peoples of the mainland. Another common theme is that of
spirits and the healers (waganga) who control them. Thus, over centuries, the folklore of
the Swahili, like that of many other peoples, has developed an inclusive, accommodating
characteristic. The urban environment has provided a useful, and perhaps necessary,
setting for this syncretic trend.
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References
Knappert, Jan. 1970. Myths and Legends of the Swahili. London: Heinemann.
Ranger, T.O. 1975. Dance and Society in Eastern Africa, 1890–1970: The Beni Ngoma. London:
Heinemann.
Steere, Edward. 1870. Swahili Tales As Told by Natives of Zanzibar. London: Bell and Daldy.
Taylor, W.E. 1891. African Aphorisms, or Saws from Swahili-Land. London: Society for Promoting
Christian Knowledge.
Huntingford, G.W.B., tr. and ed. (1980). The Periplus of the Erythrean Sea. London: The Hakluyt
Society.
FAROUK TOPAN
See also Identity and Folklore: The Kunda; Indian Ocean Islands; Languages
African folklore
984
V
VERBAL ARTS: AFRICAN AMERICAN
Artistic verbal behavior among African Americans includes a wide range of expressive
forms that folklorists have identified and examined. Some of the most pervasive forms
are trickster tales, toasts, rap, the dozens, sermons, proverbs, and urban legends, as well
as blues, riddles, and chants.
Black English dialect that shapes these forms varies from Standard English in terms of
a distinct grammar (e.g., dropping the /s/ in verbs), pronunciation (e.g., substituting /b/
for a medial /v/ in “heaven”), and vocabulary. An early example of dialect in print based
on a folklorist’s research is Zora Neale Hurston’s Mules and Men (1935), in which
Hurston documents folktales from Florida in the 1930s, offering readers a sense of the
natural contexts of storytelling events, including turpentine camp employees who traded
barbs, told jokes, and performed a range of verbal arts, all in dialect.
The folktales in Hurston’s collection, and in other more recent folktale collections
(Dance 2002), are common throughout the American South, and include examples of
explanatory tales (“Why Negroes are Black,” “Why the Black Man’s Hair is Nappy,”
“Why the Rabbit Has a Short Tale,” and “How the ‘Gator Got His Mouth”); tales in
which the protagonist (animal or human, such as slave John) either outwits his stronger
foe (“The Coon in the Box,” “Tar Baby,” “Buh Lion and Buh Goat,”) or falls victim
(“The Signifying Monkey”); religious tales (“Upon This Rock,” “How the Church Came
to Be Split Up,” and “Why The Guardian Angel Lets the Brazos Bottom Negroes
Sleep”); tales of the supernatural and conjuration (“The Mojo” and “How Hoodoo Lost
His Hand”); and other folk narratives that appear in collections of motifs and folktale
indices specific to African American culture.
The Source of Dialect Tales
In contrast to collections that were based on folklore fieldwork, “Dialect” tales that
appear in Joel Chandler Harris’ Nights with Uncle Remus (1883) also make use of a black
community’s way of speaking, but the stories in this collection are those that the fictional
black servant Uncle Remus tells the plantation owner’s son. They are also the ones Harris
(a white man) heard from blacks while growing up in the South. His intentions, literary in
nature, attempted to convey to white readers the sound and richness of folk wisdom that
characterized the stories and songs he heard. This, and subsequent publications by Harris,
African Americans
985
sparked a scholarly debate questioning the sources of New World black folktales,
attracting the attention of folklorist Richard Dorson and Africanist William Bascom in
the 1970s, a debate that John Minton and David Evans examine in their consideration of
“The Coon in the Box” (2001).
Arguments favoring European origins attempt to dissuade opponents who forcefully
demonstrate the African origins of numerous African American folktales. Drawing from
an enormous number of folktale collections in both the old and new worlds, Bascom’s
comparative analyses substantiates the strong connection between African and New
World folktales, soundly refuting Dorson’s claims that most African American folktales
are of European origin (1975). Revisiting the debate and its implications, Minton and
Evans take “The Coon in the Box” as their subject matter, a version of which Dorson
collected from black narrator John Blackamore. Blackamore’s story places the servant
Jack’s life in danger when the servant’s boss wagers with his peers that Jack possesses an
uncanny ability to know everything (a “know-it-all”), unaware that Jack simply
investigates facts before appearing to “know” them. Although the contents of a box
containing a raccoon has not been revealed to Jack when the moment of truth arrives, the
perplexed servant employs an old expression when he admits “You got that old coon at
last,” correctly “guessing” the box’s content and assuring his boss’s substantial gain in
money and status (Dance 2002, 47).
Among the recurrent themes in these master-slave tales is that of ridicule of white
authority figures who institutionalized and encouraged a corrupt political system that
justified treating African slaves as human chattel. Indeed, those who advocate European
origins of many African American folktales are convinced that the trauma of the Middle
Passage between the old and new worlds, and subsequent slavery experiences, produced
among black plantation workers cultural amnesia and a general inability to retain African
traditions, oral or otherwise. Certainly the style of delivery in a storytelling performance
has distinct African characteristics, including aesthetic dimensions that underscore the
importance of the spoken word in African traditional societies, while enduring in
different forms in the New World.
Whether they are telling a story in a southern rural community, engaging in verbal
dueling (the “dozens”), or telling tall tales, black narrators constitute part of a rich
cultural heritage that includes African griots—orators who share cultural knowledge and
history with community members, and who thereby give the spoken word an extremely
important place within traditional African societies. Among such a community of voices
are performers who might employ gestures (cut eye and suck teeth), the African hare
tricksters, Black English, the ubiquitious call-and-response in all expressive forms, as
well as the verbal agility and imagination that are criteria in “signifying,” toasts, and the
dozens.
Signifying and Toasts
Many stories describe how slaves outwit their masters (purposely or otherwise), while
some trickster tales pit characters against each other. In some versions of the “Signifying
Monkey,” the monkey ridicules a lion while laughing and jumping up and down a tree
limb until he slips and falls to the ground, whereupon he begs the lion to let him up to
African folklore
986
live another day and they can be friends. Once freed, however, the monkey scurries back
up the tree and continues his signifying, enraging the lion further until the outrageous
monkey finally slips and meets his well-deserved end. In the folktale “Tar Baby,” Brer
Rabbit signifies on Brer Fox, when the physically weaker animal begs the other not to
throw him in the briar patch, and later ridicules Fox’s ignorance that the briar patch
serves as Rabbit’s refuge. A way of indirectly insulting somebody without the individual
realizing he or she has been insulted, “signifying” carries many connotations within black
oral traditions. Brer Rabbit is signifying when he tells Brer Wolf to hit Brer Possum in
the mouth for stealing his cabbage, while Brer Rabbit goes home with the cabbage,
infuriating Brer Wolf. After Rabbit escapes from Wolf’s subsequent capture, he taunts
him: “‘Why didn’t you catch me when you. had me?’” (quoted in Dance 2002, 26).
Accordingly, a salient feature throughout African American verbal art forms, signifying
is especially prevalent in the toast and playing the dozens, as well as much of rap music.
Toasts, like “The Signifying Monkey,” are poetic forms of prose narratives, recitations
that typically describe a situation or tell a story. They contain rhymed couplets and they
come from several sources. Despite the popular idea among North Americans that a toast
is something you say when you raise drink in hand, the toast can also appear in places
such as in prisons, where alcohol is illegal. Not streetcorners or bars, but east Texas
maximum security state prison farms, were the social settings in which Bruce Jackson
heard many of the toasts he published in his collection “Get Your Ass in the Water and
Swim Like Me”: Narrative Poetry from Black Oral Tradition (1974). The contest toasts,
such as “The Signifying Monkey,” appear in Jackson’s collection, as do several
“badman” toasts, whose main character acts with total pathological abandon, and whose
violent nature and superhuman strength enables him to overpower all others. Even after
Billy Lyon murders Stagolee during a barroom brawl, sending him to hell, Stagolee
exerts his dominance in a confrontation and defeats the Devil, sexually assaulting the
Devil’s wife. “Stagolee,” also the subject of blues songs, is a transformation of both the
Slave John figure and the relatively weaker trickster figure. His protest against authority
is more overt than that of previous folktale heroes. Moreover, the badman not only
reverses the social roles, he typically displays characteristics that derive from
stereotypical images whites have of blacks. After the third time the sinking Titanic’s
captain commanded Shine to go back below and shovel more coal, Shine responded:
“Well, that seems damned funny, it may be damned fine,
but I’m gonna try to save this black ass of mine.”
So Shine jumped overboard and begin to swim, and all the people were
standin’ on deck watchin’ him.
In subsequent verses of the “Titanic” rich women stand against the ship’s railing and
raise their dresses, offering sexual and monetary rewards to Shine if he will swim back
and save them, but Shine rejects their offers, outswims a shark, and is back on dry land
drinking whiskey in a bar before the ship sinks. The toast probably emerged soon after
the 1912 tragedy and may well have gained in its popularity in part due to the ship’s
reported denial of passage of black passengers, including heavyweight championship
boxer Jack Johnson. According to oral tradition, the only blacks aboard the Titanic were
servants, and Shine occupied the lowliest of such jobs. The toast’s concern with
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institutionalized inequalities between races, and its hero’s display of hypervirility and
superhuman strength must have contributed to the narrative’s rise in popularity, and
seeing rich white people drown as a lowly black servant swims to safety must have been
irresistible.
These themes, common to so many badman toasts that John Roberts and other
folklorists have explored, are ones that also emerge in other kinds of African American
verbal art, such as rap, which is an aspect of hip-hop culture. In their examination of rap
music and their identification of its possible sources and its relationships to other African
American expressive forms, Cheryl Keyes (2002) and Tricia Rose (1994) have
demonstrated rap music’s affinities with badman toasts in general. In his From Trickster
to Badman (1990), Roberts traces the transformations of the African American trickster
in black oral tradition and conceptions of the badman as outlaw hero. The importance of
technology’s role and other aspects of hip-hop culture have produced an expressive form
whose lyrics frequently demonstrate its affinities to this badman tradition within black
oral culture. Perhaps the most important feature that links rap to the toast is signifying.
Rap and Hip-Hop
Rap is a musical form that grew out of hip-hop culture and incorporates dance, graffiti,
and the manipulation of technology in its exploration of poverty, urban blight, and
violence (although increasingly, a significant portion of rap details the so-called blingbling lifestyle of fine cars, Cristal champagne, wealth, and good living). As economic
development has transformed certain urban landscapes, such as that of the Bronx in New
York, black adolescents have responded with a style that embraces expressive forms that
include the artistic verbal arts informing rap music. As a verb, the word rap in black
culture might refer to a style of speaking called rapping, and it is loosely related to
joning, capping, snapping, sounding, and woofing—terms often synonymous with
playing the dozens. But since its emergence during the last decades of the twentieth
century, rap now refers to “a musical form that makes use of rhyme, rhythmic speech,
and street vernacular, which is recited or loosely chanted over a musical soundtrack”
(Keyes 2002, 1). Like toasts, rap includes stories told in rhyme, such as the long narrative
poetic toast.
Keyes’s discussion of aesthetics of style of rap music reminds one of its reliance on
black dialect, characterizing it as black street speech that uses bad to mean good, while
rappers have replaced the word bad with def, dope, and phat to describe that which is
exceptionally good (2002, 123). Like other expressive forms, rap includes signifying
terms like cut, bite, and chill, which have meanings that differ from their dictionary
definitions and appear in rap lyrics to invert, for example, a stereotypically negative
meaning to a positive one (Keyes 2002, 134). Men who call one another “bitch” or “ho”
in the rap community, may simply be playfully “sounding” on one another, a common
characteristic found in the dozens.
African folklore
988
The Dozens
The dozens, also a feature of toasts, is predominantly black male verbal dueling, the
object of which is to artistically insult one’s opponent, usually targeting his relative,
typically his mother, whereupon the opponent entertains an attentive audience with a
clever rejoinder. Rewarding verbal agility and imagination (which may or may not
include obscenity) are essential to this activity. In his collection of essays, Mother Wit
from the Laughing Barrel (1990), Alan Dundes devotes a substantial section to verbal art
and provides a number of essays written by scholars who focus on signifying, the dozens,
and toasts that employ several stylistic devices, such as metaphor, repetition, rhyme, and
other qualities that such performances might involve. Typically, those engaged in playing
the dozens rely heavily upon formulaic patterns that often contain rhyme. In Dundes’
book, William Labov provides the following example: “I went to your house to ask for a
piece of cheese. The rat jumped up and say ‘Heggies (“dibbs” or halfsies”), please’”
(Dundes 1990, 276–283). Many sounding situations might develop into such opening
phrases: “Yo mamma so ugly that she…” And the listener would respond accordingly,
building on what was said before. Consequently, these expressive forms may be seen as
ritual insults that entertain while also teaching the importance of thinking quickly under
pressure and developing verbal skills. But by the 1990s, hip-hop had influenced such
verbal art forms, and rhymed couplets of earlier dozens often emerged as one-liners:
“Your mother is so stupid, she thought Boyz II Men was a day-care center,” and “Your
mother is so dumb, she couldn’t pass a blood test.”
Proverbs
One may also demonstrate verbal artistry in traditional proverbs that have developed in
the New World, but proverbs, like all folklore, cannot be understood without taking into
consideration the contexts in which they occur and the ways in which they have been
used. “Different strokes for different folks” has been used in rhetoric and propaganda, but
meanings are always context-sensitive. “An idle mind is the devil’s workshop,” a proverb
coming from an African American Texas community, may be addressing the issue of
young girls engaging in sex and becoming pregnant, or it could be used to criticize
someone who is already pregnant, depending on who is performing the proverb and who
is the intended audience (perhaps the parent of a daughter who has become
unintentionally pregnant) (Prahlad 1996, 28). As in other verbal art forms, indirection,
metaphorical speech, and other elements of poetry characterize these short statements that
seem to express timeless wisdom. Swami Anand Prahlad has written a very interesting
book that explores these and other dimensions, applying them to data he collected
(primarily) in Oakland, California. His primary interest is in the ways in which proverbs
emerge in their natural contexts. It is dangerous, Prahlad argues, to assume that a proverb
somehow reflects a given set of issues specific to African Americans—a worldview
characteristic of an entire group. Indeed, they may well reflect competing worldviews in
the same situation, as the proverb above demonstrates. Others have argued that a defining
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characteristic of proverbs is that they propose an attitude or specific action in response to
a recurring social situation. A structural definition identifies the proverb’s topic, which is
an object spoken about, and a comment or what is said about the topic, such as “two
clean sheets don’t smut.” Proverbs may be descriptions that are made up of two or more
elements that conform to two parts of a balanced structure, parts that are frequently tied
together by a verb of equivalence or of causation, as in “Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you
no lies” (Dance 2002, 460) or “The higher monkey climb, the more you see his behind”
(Dance 2002, 462).
Preaching
One of the most highly developed forms of African American verbal art is the subject of
Gerald L. Davis’s study of the African American sermon. Like Davis, Daryl Dance also
provides texts of sermons from such notable preachers as the Reverend C.L. Franklin (the
father of the vocalist Aretha Franklin) in From My People, along with a discussion of
famous black speeches, demonstrating that both narrative forms—sermons and
speeches—share similar poetic structures. Characterized by improvisation, formulaic
expressions, metaphor, repetition, rhyme, and other poetic devices, as well as vocal color,
a successful sermon on any Sunday within a black Southern Baptist church contains most
of these elements (including a pattern of call-and-response) so common to other black
expressive forms, such as the blues. Indeed, some scholars have pointed out the
remarkable similarities in style between black folk preachers and traditional blues
performers. It is no coincidence that the appeal of Jesse Jackson’s oratorical style lies in
his background as a minister. Moreover, an educated preacher will speak a language
relevant to the congregation’s, drawing from the Bible and from spiritu-als. He or she
also accompanies the sermon with such paralinguistic features as body movements,
clapping, jumping up and down, waving hands, moving the congregation to respond with
a well-timed “amen!” and “hallelujah!” interspersed throughout the sermon. The end of a
sermon will invite non-members to join the church, and the ritual may sometimes lead to
conversions. Indeed, conversion-experience narratives attest to the power of sermons that
inspire lost souls who seek the Holy Spirit.
Urban Legends
Finally, urban legends that circulated in black oral traditions are also an important part of
black American cultures. An urban legend is a story that a narrator typically reports he or
she heard from a friend of a friend of a friend, providing the narrator with a disclaimer to
the story’s veracity. Conspiracy legends emerged following the Atlanta child murders
committed from 1979 until 1981, and rumors that the FBI was somehow culpable for the
case’s slow progress and subsequent arrest of a suspect whom many argue is innocent.
According to the rumor mill, the murder was part of a Ku Klux Klan plot to destroy
young blacks, and stories abound about the KKK’s role in this and other so-called plots,
such as contaminating various fast-food products (e.g., Church’s Fried Chicken) in order
to make black men sterile.
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The line between rumor and legend is not always clear, but the themes that shape their
content respond to everyday anxieties and fears that continue into the twenty-first
century. Patricia A. Turner (1986) explores the relationship between rumor and legend
among black Americans, as well as some of these themes, while Dance includes a section
in From My People that focuses on what she calls “techlore,” or the folklore that
technology helps disseminate through E-mails, discussion groups, listserves, and chat
rooms (2002, 647–699).
As the scholarship on African American folklore attests, a performance’s stylistic
linguistic dimensions and an understanding of the nature of specific folklore genres is
necessary when surveying the kinds of verbal art enjoyed among African Americans.
There are many other expressive forms of verbal art specific to children, such as rhymes
and riddles (Lomax, Elder, and Hawes 1997), that have also attracted the attention of
folklorists, but most scholarly attention has been given to the forms disscussed here.
References
Abrahams, Roger D. 1985. Afro-American Folktales. New York: Pantheon Books.
Bascom, William. 1992. African Folktales in the New World. Bloomington: Indiana University
Press.
Dance, Daryl Cucumber. 2002. From My People: 400 Years of African American Folklore. New
York: Norton.
Davis, Gerald L. 1985. I Got the Word in Me, and I Can Sing It, You Know: A Study of the
Performed African-American Sermon. Philadelphia: University of Pensylvania Press.
Dorson, Richard M. 1975. African and Afro-American Folklore: A Reply to Bascom and other
Misguided Critics. Journal of American Folklore 88, no. 348:151–164.
Dundes, Alan. [1981] 1990. Mother Wit from the Laughing Barrel: Readings in the Interpretation
of Afro-American Folklore. Jackson: University Press of Mississippi.
Hurston, Zora Neale. [1935] 1990. Mules and Men. New York: Harper and Row.
Jackson, Bruce. 1974. “Get Your Ass in the Water and Swim Like Me”: Narrative Poetry from
Black Oral Tradition. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press.
Keyes, Cheryl L. 2002. Rap Music and Street Consciousness. Urbana: University of Illinois Press.
Lomax, Alan, J.D.Elder, and Bess Lomax Hawes. 1997. Brown Girl in the Ring: An Anthology of
Song Games from the Eastern Caribbean. New York: Pantheon.
Minton, John, and David Evans. 2001. “The Coon in the Box”: A Global Folktale in AfricanAmerican Context. Folklore Fellows Communication 277. Helsinki: Suomalainen
Tiedeakatemia (Academia Scientiarum Fennica).
Percelay, James, Stephen Dweck, and Monteria Ivey. 1995. Double Snaps. New York: William
Morrow.
Prahlad, Sw. Anand. 1996. African-American Proverbs in Context. Jackson: University Press of
Mississippi.
Roberts, John W. 1990, From Trickster to Badman: The Black Folk Hero in Slavery and Freedom.
Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press.
Robinson, Beverly J. 1990. Africanisms and the Study of Folklore. In Africanisms in American
Culture. Ed. Joseph E. Holloway. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Rose, Tricia. 1994. Black Noise: Rap Music and Black Culture in Contemporary America.
Hanover, N.H.: University Press of New England.
Turner, Patricia A. 1993. I Heard It Through the Grapevine: Rumor in African-American Culture.
Berkeley: University of California Press.
RICHARD ALLEN BURNS
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See also Caribbean Verbal Arts; Insults and Ribald Language; Tricksters in
African Folklore
VERBAL ARTS: THE IBIBIO OF
SOUTHEASTERN NIGERIA
The Ibibio are the fourth largest ethnic group in Nigeria. According to P.Amaury Talbot,
an anthropologist and colonial administrator during the early twentieth century, the Ibibio
are one of the most ancient peoples in Nigeria. Among the prominent phases in the
migration to their present home in Akwa Ibom State, historians include their sojourn from
the Cameroon Highlands to the Central Benue Valley and Ibom in Arochukwu before
they settled in southeastern Nigeria, where they have lived for thousands of years. They
are bordered by the Ijo to the west, the Igbo to the northwest, the Ekoi to the northeast,
and the Atlantic Ocean to the south.
In Ibibio country, the rainforest stretches northward from the mangrove swamp forest
belt along the coastline. The land is generally flat, with rivers and abundant rain. The
Ibibio are farmers, fishermen, hunters, traders, and craftsmen. Ibibio traditional religion
holds Abasi Ibom to be the Supreme Being. They also worship Ndem (lesser deities) and
serve their ancestors as necessary intermediaries between the Creator and men. In
addition to the ritual experts, sacred sites, and ceremonies similar to all religions, the
Ibibio mark certain animals, trees and locations, and days as sacred. They are widely
known for their secret societies and extravagant masquerade performances.
Reflecting their antiquity, migratory influences, local geography, and religion, folklore
among the Ibibio is bountiful, varied, colorful, and profound. (Folklore is defined here as
the verbal and nonverbal lore of the people.) Nonverbal folklore includes arts, dances,
carvings, games, ritual beliefs, customs, musical instruments, costumes, cults, and
cookery. Of all the cultures east of the Niger, only the Ibibio create sculptures and masks
with movable jointed limbs or jaws. Besides masks and sculpted works of wood and
raffia, funerary houses (nwomo) and cement funerary statues abound in Ibibio land. The
people also produce ritual objects, toys, dolls, and puppets. They are highly skilled in
bamboo and cane furniture, mat making, basketry, raffia craft, pottery, weaving, metal art
and body decoration.
Songs and Poetry
Oral poetry abounds in Ibibio culture. Its composition and performance are not limited to
any particular group or event. It is prominent in sacred initiation rites and features in
various activities of daily life. These compositions can be recited or chanted. One popular
poem is associated with women’s initiation rituals, which were widely practiced in the
past among the Ibibio and involve confinement and grooming of the candidate:
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Adiaha umo Nkoriko
Etie ke ufok oduk inam
Oduk inam enye ikponke kpon
Etie ke ufok adia
Adia nkpo eyen ufok nwed
Ayak nwed ikwo ono
Mme nkpe tetie
Mme nkpe nana
Kunana kam dada
Mme nkpedia nkpon ke ntokon
Ntokon ayayat owo
Adiaha adaha isan
Enye umik umik
Atuak ada unek
Afiak adaha isan
Enye umik umik
Afiak adaha isan
Enye umik umik
Translation:
Adiaha Umo Nkoriko (name of the candidate)
Stayed at home for inam initiation
Went into inam but did not grow fat
Stayed in the house to eat
A student that eats and eats
Surrenders her song book
Should I be sitting down
Should I be lying down
Don’t lie down but keep standing
Should I eat cocoyam with pepper
Pepper is hot-tasting
Adiaha begins to walk
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She walks umiik umiik (ideophone for the gait of
someone who is very lean)
She stops and dances
She begins to walk again
She begins to walk again
She walks umiik umiik
Ibibio Prose Narratives
Ibibio prose narratives treat a variety of topics, but they do not have distinct genre
categories similar to the European tradition of separating myth, legend, and folktale. The
content of prose narratives represents communities where noble values always prevail
over the indices of evil. Performance of the different genres of oral literature is a verbal
feast whose poetry, fantasy, music, and dramatization refresh and revitalize traditional
societies in their frequent battle against adversities.
All prose narrative performances involve the audience as an active element, along with
the narrator, as all join in the singing and hand clapping, some even beating drums. The
favorite time for storytelling is the evening, after the day’s labor, when moonlight or the
cloak of darkness enhance the aura of mystery as the stories unfold. The place is usually
the veranda or the open space in the compound where the large family and their
neighbors congregate for the session.
Among the most popular characters in these narratives are the tortoise, whose role is
that of the trickster, ghosts, and various spirits and deities. The latter reflect the
intermingling of universes, (the real with the supernatural). In addition to the tortoise,
other animal characters, such as leopards, elephants, monkeys, hares, serpents, birds, and
fishes abound in Ibibio stories.
For all prose narratives, both the narrator and the audience participate in the opening
formula.
Narrator. Ekon nke-e
Audience’. Nke-e ekon
Narrator and Audience’. Ekon aka
Ekon onyon
Ekon isimaha udim
The literal translation of this formula is: Ekon (war), nke-e (tale or proverb), Nke-e (tale
or proverb), ekon (war), Ekon (war), aka (goes), Ekon (war), onyon (returns), Ekon (war),
isimaha (never exterminates), udim (a crowd or multitude). According to this expression,
while there will always be war, with its devastation, it never results in annihilation. Thus,
the various prose narratives, while evoking the vicissitudes of life, nevertheless still
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celebrate triumph and udim (the social group), and reflect these in both the content and
actualization of the tradition.
Space does not permit an illustration of the full breadth of Ibibio prose narratives, but
the two following examples give some idea of the vitality of these traditions.
Akpan, the Corpse and the Goddess
Ekong Nkee!
Nke Ekong
Once, there lived a man. He had four children. But two of them died. He wept bitterly
because he had only two children left. His first son, Akpan, was a hunter and used to
spend several days, deep in the forest, hunting. The other brother had no occupation and
used to stay at home. One day, this junior brother fell ill. All efforts to cure him proved
abortive. He was carried to several native doctors, but they all declared that he would die.
In that community the custom was that when a person died, the body was placed in a
coffin and carried to the river bank where it was deposited at midnight. When the river
rose, the goddess of the river would come and carry away the corpse for her meal. The
arrival of the goddess was usually preceded by a huge flame that made for the shore from
the middle of the river. Then, the flame would be followed by a storm which swept up the
coffin and, accompanied by the fire, returned to the depths of the river. After Akpan left
for hunting, Udo’s illness became worse. As he walked in the forest, Akpan was thinking
of his brother. They were the only two left and loved each other very much. Akpan swore
that the goddess would not feed on his brother’s corpse. By the time he finally returned
home, Udo was dead. That night the body was to be carried to the river. Akpan left the
house that evening and went to the spot where the body would be abandoned. Dressed in
black and armed with a gun, he climbed a tree. The family looked for him but did not
know his whereabouts. In agony, his father concluded that the son had committed suicide.
At last the corpse was carried to the river and the family went back. Akpan kept his
position. The moment came: a powerful wind announced the arrival of the goddess.
Akpan had carried palm wine with him. A native doctor had given him a substance he
introduced into the liquor so that after drinking it his eyes were opened. The wind
subsided. The thick darkness prevailed. Thunder began to growl and explode while
lightning rent the air. Fire kept breaking into the tree, surrounding where Akpan was
hiding. He was tense and immobile. Then he drank the palm wine again. The wind
ceased. An enormous flame started advancing from far down the river. When the goddess
came to the coffin, she halted, having sensed the presence of a human being. The light
spread in a flash. Akpan pretended to be dead. The goddess stood on the tree. She felt
Akpan’s body. It was lifeless because of the effect of another juju that the native doctor
had given to Akpan which made him appear dead, although he was aware of what was
happening around him. The goddess left the body. It was dark again. With the coffin in
the storm, she cascaded towards the river. Akpan fired at her. She collapsed on the
ground, dead. The fire retreated rapidly into the river. There was tumult in the world. All
the gods and goddess, wherever they were, rose in lamentation. Akpan broke the coffin
and removed the corpse. The goddess ordered the villagers to remain indoors until she
had proclaimed her message. Akpan carried the corpse to the native doctor who restored
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it to life. The two brothers did not return to the village until after the death of their father.
At dawn, the voice of the goddess was heard. She announced that a member of the village
had disgraced her and exposed her nakedness. She warned that from that day onward no
corpse should be brought to the river but should be buried in the earth.
Ekong Nkee!
Nke Ekong.
Thus, Akpan combats and triumphs over supernatural forces. His victory transforms his
status in the society and wins for his community, if not for humanity, the right to bury the
dead. Also, the three phases—departure, trials, and triumph—can be identified in the tale.
In addition to providing explanations for cultural traditions, such stories also
dramatize the full range of human attributes. These attributes include craftiness, wisdom,
stupidity, indolence, intelligence, avarice, gluttony, and trickery. Often, two principal
characters, each incarnating one of these attributes, are set in opposition. In the ensuing
confrontation one attribute vanquishes the other. In “The Hare and the Tortoise,” humility
triumphs over arrogance.
The Hare and the Tortoise
Ekong Nkee!
Nke Ekong
The tortoise and the hare used to be intimate friends. There was no doubt in their minds
as to which of them could run faster than the other. But the hare was fond of boasting
about his speed and used to ridicule the sluggishness of his friend. One day, the tortoise
was so incensed by this derision that he challenged the hare to a running contest. This
only made the hare laugh the more. At last, however, both of them went for the race. As
soon as they started, the hare darted forward and sped out of sight. Far, far behind the
tortoise was sorting his steps.
The hare loves to sleep. After having covered more than half the distance, he said to
himself: “Now, I can relax and take a nap. Before the tortoise comes this far, I shall have
had enough rest. Even if he overtakes me while I’m asleep, I can always finish the race
before him without having to strain myself. The tortoise competing against me in a race?
What an idea! Ha! ha! ha!” The hare lay down, relaxed his limbs and fell asleep. For a
long time he slumbered; the tortoise came abreast of his friend and pushed past the spot
as stealthily as he could for fear of rousing the opponent snoring under the shade of a
tree. On and on struggled the tortoise until he finished the race. The hare was still
sleeping. Late in the evening, the latter opened his eyes and sprang to his feet. He ran his
fastest and came to the finishing line, only to be booed by a large crowd that had declared
the tortoise the winner in the race. The hare was thus silenced.
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Ekon Nkee!
Nke Ekon
In many Ibibio fables, seemingly negative traits often overcome laudable human
qualities. This is particularly true of the cycle of trickster stories, which frequently feature
the tortoise.
Ibibio Proverbs
Before turning to proverbs, it should be remembered that riddles often serve similar
functions of training children’s speech abilities and memories. Sometimes riddles play off
sounds (alliteration and assonance) or tones of words for their answers, rather than strict
logic. Riddles can bring forth the wisdom of the group, though in a humorous and
indirect fashion. One quick example:
Question: What is it that without hands and without feet can throw a
person on the ground?
Answer: Slippery soil.
Proverbs are a favorite genre among the Ibibio. Old and young, male and female,
everybody enjoys and appreciates the intervention of proverbs in a discourse. Though
some are more skilled in the art than others, most people will try to use proverbs. Those
who are most versed in proverbs and employ them most frequently and effectively are the
aged. One explanation for this is that proverbs embody wisdom, which is associated with
old age. Thus, Ibibio elders are renowned for the expertise and facility with which they
embellish, deepen, and energize their speech through the use of proverbs.
It is always best to present the full context of the use of proverbs, but the following list
gives some the character and flavor of Ibibio wisdom.
Ifiok iyokoke (One never knows enough).
Eyo ikimme inua (It’s never nightfall for the mouth).
Eyo akeim, usen ikwereke (Sunset after sunset, but days never end).
Ofum ase akpeep eto unek (It is the wind that teaches trees how to
dance).
Mmion afon se Obon anyai (The chief can pass effluvium with
impunity).
Mmon akpene ke inua aforo etap (When water lingers in the mouth, it
becomes saliva).
Adia nkpo aduma abene enyin enyon (Who appropriates thunder’s
substances keeps glancing into the sky).
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Conclusion
Ibibio folklore is a rich, comprehensive phenomenon because of the coming together in
one culture of elements from three major spheres; pastoral, fishing, and agricultural
communities. These, coupled with their antiquity, the long migrations, and their religion,
have engendered among the Ibibio a folklore that boasts great variety, vivacity, and
charm. Unfortunately, much of the folklore has gone into oblivion, and what is left is
threatened with extinction due to certain factors, including a rural exodus, neglect and
rejection of the tradition through the influence of contemporary globalism, the passing
away of the older generations who were the archives of the system, and the paucity of
research and field work for documentation and presentation of the materials. While Ibibio
folklore in general, and verbal arts in particular, share many features with similar
manifestations in other cultures all over the world, they have also remained a unique facet
in the global cultural gem.
References
Akpabot, S.E., 1975. Ibibio Music in Nigerian Culture. East Lausing: Michigan State University
Press.
Esen, A.J.A. 1982. Ibibio Profile: A Psycho-Literary Projection. Lagos: Paico Press.
Essien, O.E.A. 1990. A Grammar of the Ibibio Language. Ibadan, Nigeria: University Press.
Forde, C.Daryll, and G.I.Jones. 1950. The Ibo and Ibibio-Speaking Peoples of SouthEastern
Nigeria. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Messenger, John C. 1959. The Role of Proverbs in a Nigerian Judicial System. Southwestern
Journal of Anthropology 15:64–78.
——. 1960. Anang Proverb Riddles. Journal of American Folklore 73:225–235.
——. 1962. Anang Art, Drama, and Social Control. African Studies Review 5, no. 2:29–35.
Noah, I.A. 1991. Ibibio Oral Literature. In The Ibibio, ed. M. Abasiattai. Calabar, Nigeria: Akpan.
——. 1994. Literature and Folklore. In Akwa Ibom State: The Land of Promise, ed. S.W.Peters,
E.Iwok, and O.E.Una, Lagos: Gabumo.
Udo, Edet A. Who Are the Ibibio? Onitsha, Nigeria: Africana Publishers.
IMEYEN A.NOAH
See also Oral Narrative; Proverbs; West African Folklore: Overview
VISUAL AND PERFORMANCE ARTS:
THE SONGYE
Songye is the ethnic label for a cluster of linguistically and culturally related groups in
the Democratic Republic of the Congo (formerly Zaire), located mainly in the eastern
Kasai province, with additional groups located in the in Kivu and Shaba provinces. The
main groups include Kalebwe, Eki, Ilande, Lembwe, Bala, Chibenji, Chofwe, Budia,
Sanga and the small chiefdoms east of the Lomami River, who are the only ones to
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actually use the name Songye. Despite significant variations, the Songye complex as a
whole is particularly known for its healing and divining cults (based on beliefs in
ancestral and wandering spirits) and for their masquerades, which exploit the ideology of
witchcraft and sorcery. Chieftancy, whether a hereditary and absolute rule, such as
among the Kalebwe, or electoral and rotary, as among the eastern Songye, is ritually
attributed with sacral powers, echoing traditions of the neighboring Luba, and related
symbolically to life-enhancing culture heroes such as the blacksmith, hunter, and nganga
(magic or ritual expert) (Hersak 1985, 12–22).
Craft of the Songye
The essential transformative role of these and other specialists, who use natural resources
for the benefit of the community, is not only evident in myths, tales, and proverbs, but
also in various forms of secular and ritual material culture. Metalworkers of the Songye
were once renowned in the region, as Wissman observed in the 1880s (Van Overbergh
1908, 223). They produced a variety of utilitarian and ceremonial tools, such as knives
and elaborate axes, which they traded with their southern Luba neighbors for essential
commodities (Reefe 1981, 98). Pottery was produced by women well into the second half
of the twentieth century. The large-scale water coolers with intricate geometric patterns,
which were still in use in the 1970s, are very similar to examples documented by Leo
Frobenius during his 1905–1906 voyage through the Kasai (1990, 97; Hersak 1985, 4).
As among the Kuba, men wove raffia cloth that was used for items of dress, such as the
floor-length ceremonial skirts of chiefs and dignitaries (Hersak 1985, 19, 21). When
fashioned into squares and rectangles, it served as an important means of exchange
(ediba/madiba). The value attributed to weaving can be seen in the sculptural
elaborations of shuttles, as noted by Frobenius. Plaiting of mats and baskets, widely
practiced by women at the turn of the century and distinguished by certain local design
preferences, developed into a major commercial activity in the postindependence period
(Merriam 1973, 251–252).
Among the various secular arts, perhaps the least-known expressive form is wall
painting. Being noncollectable and ephemeral (given the use of natural pigments), little
documentation was gathered by travelers and researchers. Frobenius provides evidence of
a highly worked house facade covered with geometric patterns, including an unusual Xray depiction of an expectant mballa antelope (1990, 116). In the 1930s, Maurice-Louis
Bevel observed paintings in white and black pigments on beige or reddish mud walls.
The geometric elements on these houses were done by women, whereas men were
responsible for figurative images, such as those of the hunter with various animals,
hammock carriers, or the smith, all shown in profile and often with unnaturally long
arms. Depictions of colonial presence and power also appeared: the steam boat, the
railway, soldiers energizing, the Western lady, the missionary, and even the ritual aperitif
hour of Europeans in Africa were all part of the repertoire.
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Members of a bwadi bwa kifwebe
society with two maskers: elder
(foreground) and youth. Village
Kikomo, Kiloshi Chiefdom, Eastern
Songye.
Photo © D.Hersak, 1978.
Carving, especially in wood, is undoubtedly the activity for which the Songye are best
known. Their production of a vast variety of utilitarian, prestige, and ritual objects such
as bowls, ladles, musical instruments, headrests, stools, staffs, shields, figures, and masks
figure among the most popular icons of Central African art. The skill of talented carvers
was certainly recognized, though not always acknowledged or attributed with particular
prestige or status. This is especially evident with certain types of artifacts whose context
of use demanded secrecy, such as initiatory procedures and mediation with spirit forces.
Figural carvings with magical ingredients (mankishi, nkishi [sing.]) implanted in the
stomach cavity or in a hole or horn on top of the head were seen as creations of the
nganga, as it was he who selected the symbolically significant mineral, vegetal, and
animal substances (bishimba) that engendered a reaction with the spirit realm. These
objects were used in healing, divining, and general betterment of individual and
communal circumstances. As such, they possessed an ambivalent aspect: they would of
necessity attack the evildoer in order to deliver the victim from the malediction. The
variations in form, style, quality of workmanship, and content of the multitude of
personal examples of these carvings, found throughout European and American
museums, attest to an extensive and rich popular tradition of folk medicine in the
broadest sense. In contrast, the village mankishi (figures about 50 cm–1 m in size), which
recall figures of authority and culture heroes in dress and other external paraphernalia,
served as historical time markers as they were remembered by name and associated to
passing generations and events (Hersak 1985, 118–137).
Performance Arts
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Music, dance, and performance arts constitute another category that has attracted
significant interest. Torday and Joyce, in their 1922 ethnographic report on the Songye,
were particularly taken by musical ensembles and instruments, especially those of the
chief, and they included more photographs of this activity than any other (1922, 17, 19).
They drew particular attention to the cylindrical, single-note flutes, played in hocketing
style, something like the ocarinas (epudi) described by Alan Merriam that were used
either as signaling devices by hunters (noise producing) or as musical accompaniment for
hunters’ songs (1962, 177). While some instruments fell into disuse, in the 1970s
Merriam analyzed the importance among the Bala of ideophones, skin-headed drums,
xylophones, rattles, double metal gongs, and wooden slit gongs. Of these, the latter three
were central to all music activity, although the trapezoidal slit drum (lunkufi) was
accorded the highest status and considered the instrument that distinguished professional
expertise. Like the metal gong, the lunkufi drum was village property, sometimes kept by
the guardian of the community power figure. It was used as a signaling device and was
indispensable in funerals, new moon rites, and in eastern Songye masquerades (Hersak,
1985).
Masquerades
Instrumental and vocal music, dance, proverbial lore, plastic arts, and essential magicoreligious beliefs all converge in the masking context. While secular masquerades
(lumachecha) existed among Songye youth and adult groups (kalengula), the best-known
cult is that of the bwadi bwa kifwebe society (Merriam 1982, 29; Hersak 1985, 42).
Unlike the gourd-constructed lumachecha or the raffia-fiber kalengula helmet, the
kifwebe is a wooden mask with grooved or painted striations that bears the stylistic
imprint of the Songye, although it probably evolved in a southern region of Songye/Luba
convergence. Kifwebe appearances were a serious matter, maskers were agents of the
Village celebration, Lubao, Eastern
Songye.
Photo © D.Hersak, 1977.
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ruling elite and exercised social and political control through the use of powerful magic;
that is, the acquired techniques of sorcery (masende) and the inherited powers of
witchcraft (buchi). Certain visual indicators, as well as performance roles, distinguished
the gender and power of maskers. Male bifwebe among the eastern Songye in the late
1970s were characterized by red, white, and black striations and nose and forehead
extensions, while the female masks were predominantly white and devoid of crests. Male
masks carried out punitive and policing activities and exhibited erratic and spectacular
behavior based on their accumulation of masende and buchi, while female masks
engaged in dance, thus animating benevolent spirit forces and detecting the malevolent
ones. Symbolically, a single conceptualization of the supernatural kifwebe creature
existed, based on the male model, in which all parts of the mask and costume were
identified with references to nature, culture, and cosmology. The creature was also named
in an esoteric terminology, taught during initiation into the society (Hersak 1985, 37–40).
Kifwebe masking provides a particularly poignant example of an ongoing and dynamic
adaptation of folk traditions. Among the Luba, kifwebe masks of the 1970s, most of
which resemble those of the white Songye female type, were used in entirely opposing
contexts, that is, as agents of healers and antisorcerers (Mutimanwa 1974, 30–34; Hersak
1993, 156). At about the same time, on the eastern fringe of the Kalebwe, a workshop
was producing a particularly powerful kifwebe model, which was used concurrently in
bwadi practices, in popular dance performances, and as an article of commerce (Hersak
1985). For skeptics concerned with Western notions of authenticity and singular
development patterns, the reality of such phenomena is difficult to reconcile.
Though Songye proverbial lore largely emphasizes conservatism, moderation and
adherence to traditional values and lifestyles, the currents of change are recognized, even
if reluctantly. Two proverbs summarize this as follows:
Ngoma lubilu, maja lubibu
(The “tempo” of the dance must follow that of the
drum)
(author’s translation; Samain 1923, 147).
Bipwa byalulukanga, bakashi baamena myefu
(The years change, women are growing beards)
(Lumeka 1967, 42).
References
Bevel, Maurice-Louis. 1937. L’art de la decoration chez les Basonge. Le Conseiller Congolais 10,
no. 1.
Hersak, Dunja. 1985. Songye Masks and Figure Sculpture. London: Ethnographica.
——. 1993. The Kifwebe Masking Phenomenon. In Face of the Spirits: Masks from the Zaire
Basin, eds. Frank Herreman and Constantijn Petridis. Antwerp: Ethnographic Museum.
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——. 1995. Colours, Stripes and Projections: Revelations on Fieldwork Findings and Museum
Enigmas. In Objects Signs of Africa, ed. Luc de Heusch. Tervuren, Belgium: Annales du Musée
Royal de l’Afrique Centrale.
Frobenius, Leo. 1990. Ethnographiche Notizen aus den Jahren 1905 und 1906. Vol. IV, Kanyok,
Luba, Tetela, Songo Meno/Nkutu, ed. Hildegard Klein. Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag.
Lumeka, P.R. 1967. Proverbes des Songye. In Africana Linguistica III. Tervuren Belgium: Annales
du Musee Royal de L’Afrique Centrale.
Merriam, Alan P. 1962. The Epudi—A Basongye Ocarina. Ethnomusicology 6:175–80.
——. 1974a. An African World, The Basongye Village of Lupapa Ngye. Bloomington: Indiana
University Press.
——. 1974b. Change in Religion and the Arts in a Zairian Village. African Arts 7.
——. 1982. Kifwebe and Other Cult Groups among the Bala (Basongye). In African Religious
Groups and Beliefs, ed. Simon Ottenberg. Meerut, India: Folklore Institute.
Mutimanwa, Wenga-Mulayi. 1974. Etude socio-morphologique des masques blancs luba ou
“bifwebe”. Unpublished M.A. dissertation. Université Nationale du Zaire, Lubumbashi.
Reefe, Thomas Q. 1981. The Rainbow and the Kings: A History of the Luba Empire to c. 1891.
Berkeley: University of California Press.
Samain, R.D. 1923. La Langue Kisongye: Grammaire-vocabulaire-proverbs. Brussels: Goemaere.
Torday, Emil, and T.A. Joyce. 1922. Notes ethnographiques sur des populations habitant les bassin
du Kasai et du Kwango Oriental. Brussels: Annales du Musée du Congo Belge.
Van Overbergh, Cyr. 1908. Les Basonge. Collection de Monographies Ethnographiques III.
Brussels: Albert De Wit.
DUNJA HERSAK
See also Central African Folklore; Masks and Masquerades; Performance in
African
VISUAL ARTS: ULI PAINTING OF THE
IGBO
Uli is an Igbo word, in the Onitsha dialect, for a variety of trees and shrubs that bear pods
or fruits, from which juice is squeezed to be used in body decoration. The same patterns
that were historically drawn on the body also appear in murals executed in local pigments
on earthen compound walls. In the early part of the twentieth century, these painting
traditions were important women’s art forms in the Igbo-speaking region of southeastern
Nigeria. The typology of art forms and practice differ within and between Igbo-speaking
subgroups, though village groups and groups on the periphery have some art practices in
common with their neighbors (Jones 1984, 132–133). Body and wall paintings
manifested differences in motifs, style, and the formal arrangement of designs, which
were correlated to subgroups and village groups within the region.
In the pre- and early colonial periods, body and wall paintings, like other Igbo arts,
celebrated ideals of individual and communal achievement (Cole and Aniakor 1986, 7),
but uli paintings were also done on less auspicious occasions, motivated by impulses that
were aesthetic and personal, including women wanting to look their best for market day.
Body decoration drew attention to the wearer and complemented other forms of personal
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adornment and dress. According to Jeffreys, it was the artist’s business “to weave into a
unity of design the mosaic of patterns selected by her client” (1957, 221). Male titletakers and titleholders, wrestlers, and members of certain age-specific associations were
also decorated with uli patterns by women. Uli dye is colorless, and the artist often added
charcoal so she could see the trace of the designs as she worked. A range of drawing tools
were used. In the Nri-Awka area, in the northwest of the region, designers used a small,
blunt, fine-tipped uli knife (made by Awka blacksmiths) which was capable of producing
fine tapering lines. In other places thin slivers of palm frond, or feathers, were used. In
Umuahia, in the southeast of the region, women made body stamps by carving designs
into the crosssection of a piece of bamboo. The uli dye oxidized overnight, and the next
day the designs appeared in a deep blue-black color. They would last up to eight days
before they began to fade. Body decoration was therefore suited to the regular cycle of
four-and eight-day markets, which were also the setting for communal and personal
celebrations including title-taking, marriage celebrations, the presentation of newborn
babies, and obituaries. Uli body and wall paintings framed those events.
There were established design conventions within a subgroup or village group. In
Achalla, in the northwest of the Igbo-speaking area, in the 1930s, body-painting styles
could roughly be divided into two types. In one, thin lines crossed the body between
groups of dots, concentric circles, and spirals. In the other, more common among male
youths, the patterns were arranged more symmetrically and often included wide lines,
circles, and ovals filled in with uli dye (Murray 1931–1935, 7). The artist was free to
borrow or adapt designs from other villages, or to invent new ones, and the individual’s
way of drawing (her personal style) could introduce subtle modifications to the
appearance of a popular motif. Some women gained reputations as talented designers and
were in demand because of their artistic skills or their sureness of hand.
The sun and moon, plants and animals, everyday objects (from combs and hairpins to
cooking pots and knives), and activities such as weaving, plaiting, and peeling were
translated by uli designers in a highly schematic style. Within the same village a motif or
design could have a number of interpretations depending on a person’s knowledge of
ritual matters and the context in which the design was seen.
There is evidence—in the similarity between the appearance of uli designs in the NriAwka area and the patterns on carved wooden doors and side panels executed by male
carvers from the same area—of a relationship between the design vocabulary used by
male and female artists. A comparison between uli designs by women from Arochukwu
in the southeast of the Igbo-speaking area and the iconography of the all-male Ekpe
secret society provides further evidence of this relationship. Ekpe had its origins in the
non-Igbo Ekoi (or Ejagham) club, located east of the Cross River and named after the
leopard, whose emblem is the repeated triangular pattern called agu, meaning “leopard’s
paw.” Uli designs from Arochukwu include variations of repeated triangles (agu),
checkerboard patterns, and four-sided shapes, and these motifs and their arrangements
resemble the patterns that are found in the distinctive indigo blue and white ukara cloth
worn by male members of the Ekpe society (Willis 1997, 118).
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Uli drawing, southeast Nigeria,
collected by K.C.Murray, c. 1930. Ink
on imperial size paper, 23×32 in.
Photo © KC Murray Archive, National
Museum of Nigeria, Lagos.
In the colonial and postindependence periods, changing social, economic, and ritual
circumstances led to the irrelevance of uli to such an extent that the social traditions of
which this painting was a part were themselves changing. Body and wall painting
declined in direct relation to the increased use of Western cosmetics, wrappers, and
modern fashions—and of concrete blocks in place of “traditional” building materials.
Mural decoration of earthen walls was a women’s art, but in general women have not
adapted their legacy of artistic skills in order to be able to decorate modern compounds.
Although the contexts and motivations for its appearance have changed, the traditions of
uli design have been continued to the present day. Men have been more receptive to new
media, and something of the uli idiom can be seen in the metal gates and low-relief
plaster frieze work that are popular contemporary forms of decoration for entrance gates
and compound walls. Moreover, uli became the focus of the Nsukka group of
contemporary, art-school-trained artists (whose most preeminent members are also male).
Based at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, since the 1970s, the Nsukka group, under the
leadership of Uche Okeke, has incorporated uli motifs and design arrangements in their
paintings, textiles, ceramics, and sculpture (Ottenberg 1997, 77).
References
Cole, H.M., and Aniakor, C.C. 1984. Igbo Arts, Community, and Cosmos. Los Angeles: Museum of
Cultural History, University of California.
Jeffreys, M.D.W. 1957. Negro Abstract Art or Ibo Body Patterns. South African Museums
Association Bulletin 6, no. 9.
Jones, G.I. 1984. The Art of Eastern Nigeria. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press.
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Murray, K.C. 1931–1935. Unpublished field notes on body and wall painting. Lagos: K.C.Murray
Archives at the Federal Ministry of Antiquities, National Museum.
Ottenberg, S. 1997. New Traditions from Nigeria: Seven Artists of the Nsukka Group. Washington,
D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press.
Willis, E.A. 1997. Uli Painting and Identity: Twentieth-Century Developments in the Art of the
Igbo-Speaking Region of Nigeria. Ph.D. thesis. University of London.
E.A.PÉRI-WILLIS
See also Body Arts; Gender Representations in African Folklore; Popular
Culture
VODOU
Vodou (the preferred spelling, following a shift in Haitian Creole orthography) is an
African-based religion born on the island of St. Domingue (now Hispaniola) during one
of the wealthiest and most violent chapters in the history of chattel slavery. The Haitian
end of the island, currently shared with the Dominican Republic, is roughly the size of
the state of Maryland, yet during the latter part of the eighteenth century this relatively
small French colony produced the majority of the sugar consumed in Europe. Life on the
plantations of Haiti was hard, and the life span of a field slave in the late eighteenth
century was short. In 1791 discontent among slaves, free blacks, and mulattoes exploded
into a long and difficult twelve-year revolution. On January 1, 1804, when Jean-Jacques
Dessalines finally declared liberty for the first black republic in the Western hemisphere,
two-thirds of the slaves who survived to celebrate their freedom had been born in Africa.
For nearly a century after independence, Haiti was effectively cut off from Europe and
the Americas. African-born blacks remaining in Haiti helped to recreate a culture
A wanga made for a woman whose
husband was unfaithful.
Photo © Martha Cooper.
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of peasant farming. In the early days of the Republic, the great majority of the population
in independent Haiti was rural. Only two cities, Port-au-Prince and what is now known as
Cap Haitian, could claim a genuinely urban economy and lifestyle.
Vodou’s Beginnings
Scholars in Haitian studies tend to agree that the years immediately following Haiti’s
slave revolution were crucial in shaping Haitian Vodou. African attitudes toward the land
increased the retention of traditional religious practices. Unlike Cuban Santeria, which
took shape primarily in urban contexts, Vodou emerged as a set of spiritual practices
shaped largely by the ecological, social, and spiritual accommodations of peasant
farmers. This history accounts for the importance of the land, sometimes literally of dirt
or earth, in Haitian Vodou practices. A pinch of earth from a cemetery or a crossroads is
a common ingredient in many kinds of wanga, a generic term for charms and talismans
that are routinely used in Vodou maji (magic) and healing rites.
Cemeteries in rural Haiti are spiritual centers for the family. The graves of the oldest
male and female buried in these cemeteries are spiritually empowered places, where
members of the family can seek help from the ancestors and the Vodou spirits. Even
some public cemeteries routinely function as churches or temples, places of communal
Vodou ritualizing. This spiritual venue includes the dead in the ongoing ritual life of the
extended Vodou family.
Important Vodou rituals are carried out pye pa tè-a (with feet on the earth). People
who “serve the spirits” need to be connected to the earth. As a result of this alliance, the
land itself becomes a text, open for interpretation. For example, the fertility of the land
(or the lack thereof) is understood as a sign of the mood of the spirits and ancestors.
Vodou and the Catholic Church
Immediately following Haiti’s declaration of independence, the Catholic Church severed
all ties with the struggling republic. This also influenced the direction in which Vodou
developed. For half a century there were no real Catholic priests in Haiti, in spite of the
fact that Catholicism had been the official religion of the colony for more than a century.
Defrocked Catholic priests, and some ne’er-do-well types pretending to be priests,
worked the heated social climate of postrevolutionary Haiti in search of money, sex, and
power. In this period, there was also a lively competitive market for so-called magic,
particularly love, health, and money charms. Faux Catholic priests competed with Vodou
healers, claiming their charms and talismans to be superior to those of the oungan
(Vodou priests) (See Greene 1993).
This was an age of Vodou expansion, when even the upper class turned to the lwa
(Vodou spirits). Catholicism and the service of Vodou spirits were already understood to
go together when the church withdrew from the island. Then, parishoners who could read
prayer books or pray in French or Latin stepped into the role of Catholic priest. These
self-appointed VodouCatholic leaders came to be known as prêt-savan-yo (bush priests).
It is hard to know exactly what they did in the early nineteenth century, but quite a bit is
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known about the role of the bush priest today. They are now called to participate in such
Vodou events as spirit marriages and the blessing of new temples. For important rituals,
they are paid to open the ceremony with traditional Catholic prayers in French and Latin
addressed to God, Mary, Jesus, and the saints. A prêt-savan, usually equipped with a
dog-eared prayer book (he may or may not be able to read) and a bottle of holy water, is
routinely called on to bless the bountiful tables of food laid out for Vodou spirits.
Wanga suspended from the ceiling of a
Vodou altar room in New York City.
Photo © Martha Cooper.
African Culture in Haiti
Haiti’s sometimes chaotic transition into independence may also have increased the
chances of African culture thriving in a Haitian context. The strongest African influences
detectable in contemporary Haiti are those of the Fon people (formerly Dahomeans) and
the peoples surrounding the ancient Kingdom of Dahomey—groups such as the Mahi,
Evhe, and Adja, as well as the Nago or Yoruba.
These influences were already in place in the last decades of slavery in St. Domingue,
when large numbers of slaves from central Africa came pouring in to maintain the labor
force needed to sustain Haiti’s feverish agricultural production. The number of Kongo
slaves was far larger than any other group in Haiti’s slave population, but their arrival
was late, and thus their influence was somewhat muted. Songs and proverbs currently in
use in Haiti hint that these late arrivals, known as moun Kongo (Kongo people), were
treated like an underclass by slaves born on the island. It was well known, however, that
Kongo people had the strongest “medicines.” The Kongo region in central Africa is
known for a religion that focuses on powerful medicines rather than deities or spirits,
such as the Dahomean Vodun (see Herskovits 1967; Blier 1995).
Traditional art forms from the various African homelands of the people who worked
Haiti’s plantations were only indirectly preserved. Drums, for example, rarely made it
across the Atlantic, and the few that did make it to Haiti were burned in the
antisuperstition campaigns led alternatively by the Catholic church and the Haitian
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government. These violent campaigns justified themselves by arguing that Vodou
tarnished Haiti’s image in the eyes of the larger world. Ironically, the reverse was more
accurate: Vodou was being demonized by Europe and America in order to keep Haiti,
and what it stood for, under control. The only art objects that seem to have survived the
Atlantic crossing with some frequency were the small pouches of earth from the
homeland that some slaves wore around their necks.
Caribbean Art Forms
Transitory and performative religious art forms did develop in the slave colonies of the
Caribbean, but it is important to remember that all religious practices, except those of the
colonials, were discouraged in such settings, which is not to say they did not persist
anyway. One example of transitory art is the elaborate Vodou veve, traced in fragile
cornmeal on temple floors, only to be destroyed before the end of the ceremony.
Possession became more elaborate and more extemporaneous in Haiti than it was in the
African homelands. The possession performances of those Vodou practitioners “ridden”
by the spirits are not only evidence of religious practices enduring in the New World,
they are a testament to the creative adaptation of old ritual techniques to new social
environments.
Wanga represent another kind of art form. Wanga are a form of “treatment” in the
healing repertoire of the average Vodou priest (oungan) or priestess (manbo). Although
wanga may not be beautiful these homely, practical Vodou constructs (e.g., good luck
charms and healing magic) are perhaps the most complex and the most aesthetically rich
of Haiti’s material art forms. Wanga are eclectic blends of similar objects produced in
West and Central Africa (such as bocio and minkisi) with elements drawn from
eighteenth-century French Catholicism and its saints, miracles, relics, and talismans.
The Kongo minkisi, sometimes little more than tied and sutured bundles filled with
articulate discursive materials (seeds, bark, animal parts, bones, resin, rocks, leaves of all
kinds, bits of chalk, and so forth) were models for Vodou ritual objects called pake
Kongo. Pake are common on Vodou altars. These pake are manufactured in the process
of Vodou initiation and are associated with cleansing and healing powers. The most
common type of Vodou pake starts from a bundle of herbs and other materials pounded
and flattened into a thick disk. The herbal mass is then enveloped in brightly colored
cloth. Ribbons in contrasting colors bind the pake into a tight bundle. These same ribbons
also bind the excess cloth at the top of the pake, thus creating an extended “neck.” The
neck rises straight up from the herbal base and is decorated with feathers, horns, and
sometimes a crucifix. All of these objects further specify the spirits to whom the pake are
dedicated, and therefore the person who has that lwa as a central spirit. Pake, like many
Kongo minkisi, can be strikingly anthropomorphic. For example, some have “arms”
sprouting from the ribbon-bound neck that make the pake look like a woman with her
arms akimbo. Vodou pake Kongo also share with Kongo minkisi a tendency to blur the
distinction between the sacerdote (priest) and the source of his or her power.
Fon bocio (a term translated as “empowered cadaver”) are strong, expressive wooden
figures manufactured through related traditions of tying and binding. Applying
psychological theory to these figures, Suzanne Blier argues that they function to
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externalize strong feelings, fears, and memories. She calls them shocking figures because
they append to the outer surface of the body emotions and desires usually retained within
the person. In other words, Bocio have the inside on the outside. Furthermore, the ropes
that are bound tightly around these images, as well the hunks of cloth, animal skulls,
cowrie shells, bones, small calabashes, and knotted raffia that cover these body surfaces
are designed not only to express fear but also to produce it. Thus, the bocio, often planted
in the ground, become guardians of land, keepers of vows, and enforcers of law. To
encounter the bocio is to be shocked, and that shock is ultimately meant to mobilize
power.
West and Central African traditions of tying and binding charms and talismans are
older than the trans-Atlantic slave trade. Slave chains nevertheless become profoundly
articulate when they later appear in these expressive traditions. During the 1970s, the
Haitian Bureau d’Ethnologie in Port-au-Prince had a small exhibition case devoted to
eighteenth-century and early-nineteenth-century wanga. An especially noteworthy wanga
in the exhibition was simple and powerful. It was made from a clear glass bottle, bound
with two lengths of rusty, hand-forged slave chains. It is impossible to know what the
person who made that wanga was trying to accomplish with it, yet it seems likely that
this bit of maji was somehow addressed to the troubled relationships between slave and
master. It also seems likely that this wanga might be an attempt to appropriate the power
of the chains and to use that power to transform instruments of oppression and torture
into tools of survival and empowerment (Brown 2003).
Ritual Healing
A fundamental contrast runs through Vodou, one between things that are bound, blocked,
or tied (bloke, mare) and things that have been opened (ouvri), let go (lage), or allowed to
flow (koule). In Vodou, people are seen as enmeshed in relationships—relationships with
the living, the dead, and the lwa. A Vodou ethic recognizes no essential good or evil. In
fact, the lwa are characters with both constructive and destructive dimensions, and they
therefore work against stark ethical contrasts. Problems with family, friends, ancestors, or
spirits are understood to be the result of relational knots or blockage, meaning the
problem is located between the parties, not in either one. Vodou priests and priestesses
think of their healing arts as focused on clearing these blocks. Ritual healing opens the
conduits of relationship, to untie (demare) or loosen (lage) what blocks the flow of
reciprocity, the central dynamic of all relationships. In order to get things flowing among
persons (and between persons and spirits) gates have to be opened, knots untied,
pathways cleared, blockages removed, and chains broken.
A statue of a maroon (a fugitive slave) with his arms held up in triumph, a broken
chain dangling from each wrist, is a visual trope for Haiti’s successful revolution. This
figure is deep in the Haitian psyche and is part of the emotional context of the wanga
with slave chains in the Bureau d’Ethnologie. The maroon who has broken his chains
often shows up in political murals that appear throughout Haiti, like graffiti, at important
times in the nation’s history.
Wanga may also be classified as models or reifications of problematic relationships
(Brown 1995). Objectifications of emotional knots expose a person’s pain and
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vulnerability, and thus they share the dynamic of the bocio. They expose the private,
turning things inside out, and such exposure becomes the first step of the cure. Because
there is a certain deliberate confusion of the model of the troubled relationship with the
actual troubled people, the wanga also share the dynamic of Kongo medicine bundles. An
example drawn from the Haitian diaspora community in New York City illustrates these
dynamics.
When a person whose husband was sexually involved with another woman turned to
Mama Lola, a Haitian manbo and noted healer practicing in Brooklyn, Lola made a
wanga for her. First, Lola took a small piece of cloth cut from an article of the husband’s
clothing. With this, she made a male doll with a small bundle of cloth rolled tightly and
stitched to its crotch to represent his penis. Herbs and powders, plus the name of the wife
written several times on white paper, were placed inside the doll, which then was tied
into a small wooden chair with a length of copper wire. The wire, in turn, was secured
with a padlock. (The wife was instructed to throw away the key to that lock.) Thus
immobilized, the image of her husband was placed facing a wall on which a fragment of
mirror hung, a visual trope for the sea. While gazing on the mirror-calm surface of the
sea, those who serve the lwa are supposed to see reflections of ancestors and spirits who
dwell beneath the water. An image of Santa Clara was tucked behind the mirror “to clear
the man’s eyes.”
Making the wanga, an act in which the client often shares the labor, is not enough,
however. It is also necessary to “work the wanga” “Working” such a charm can mean
something as simple as keeping a candle lighted in front of it, or it can involve long-term
spiritual discipline. The troubled wife was told to keep an oil lamp burning, day and
night, in the space between the seated doll and the fragment of mirror on the wall. Mama
Lola then explained that, if she followed the instructions, her husband would “keep his
head down,” the way Santa Clara bows her head, and, all other women would disappear
from his view.
The Vodou practice of making wanga resonates with its West and Central African
predecessors. Yet there is one dimension of this ritual technology that Africans will not
experience in the same way Haitians do, namely, the capacity of wanga to articulate the
experience of slavery. The songs and stories that cluster around Haitian Vodou are
mysteriously silent about slavery. There are few songs that even hint at things connected
to slavery. What is said is indirect and disguised. There is, for example, one song that
voices resistance to unnamed forces and also complains of insupportable suffering, yet
the blame for that suffering is ultimately displaced onto the innocent heat of the sun.
This raises questions as to how ritual technologies interact with memory and history,
especially those dimensions of ritual that are channeled through the body rather than the
brain. Slave history apparently remains kinesthetically alive for Mama Lola. When she is
binding and tying wanga, her body engages a dense tangle of affect, a kinesthetic sense
of the control and confinement of enslavement. Every time Mama Lola makes wanga
with yards of string, rope, or wire, her body rehearses the dialectic of binding and loosing
central to the service of the Vodou spirits. So the practices passed on to her by
generations of healers in her family may, in this way, also function to preserve the story
of slavery in her family’s history.
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References
Brown, Karen McCarthy. 1987. The Power to Heal: Reflections on Women, Religion and
Medicine. Shaping New Vision: Gender and Values in American Culture, eds. C. Atkinson, C.
Buchanan, and M. Miles. Ann Arbor: UMI Research Press.
——. 1989. Systematic Remembering, Systematic Forgetting: Ogou in Haiti. Africa’s Ogun: Old
World and New, ed. Sandra T. Barnes. Bloomington: University of Indiana Press
——. 1999. Telling a Life: Race, Memory, and Historical Consciousness. Anthropology and
Humanism 24, no. 2.
——. 2001. Mama Lola: A Vodou Priestess in Brooklyn. (1991). Berkeley and Los Angeles:
University of California Press.
Blier, Suzanne. 1995. African Vodun: Art, Psychology and Power. Chicago: University of Chicago
Press.
Dayan, Joan. 1995. Haiti, History and the Gods. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of
California Press.
Green Ann. 1993. The Catholic Church in Haiti: Political and Social Change. East Lansing:
Michigan State University Press.
Leyburn, James G. 1996. The Haitian People. (1941). New Haven: Yale University Press.
KAREN MCCARTHY BROWN
See also Diaspora; Orisha; Religion; Textiles: African American
VOICE DISGUISERS
Voice disguisers are generally lightweight and relatively simple instruments that are
employed to alter the sound of, and there-fore disguise, an individual’s voice. They are
often used by masquerade “beings,” generally considered emissaries from some aspect of
the spirit world. They allow these beings to speak as part of their appearance in the
mundane world.
A voice-disguise instrument widely used in West and Central Africa closely resembles
a modern Western toy instrument, the kazoo. Referred to in many descriptions as a
mirliton (from the French word for a toy reed or pipe), the instrument in its simplest form
consists of a hollow tube open at one end and closed at the other end by a thin, flexible
membrane. The membrane is set in motion by the user’s voice spoken into the open end,
creating a “buzzing,” sympathetic sound. In Africa, mirliton tubes have been made in
many forms and from a wide variety of materials, including wood, grass reed, hollow,
bone, gourd, animal horn, or cast metal. More recent examples have employed imported
materials, such as the long metal drainpipe that Colin Turnbull reported being used
among the Mbuti in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (1962, 24–25).
Materials used to create the mirliton’s vibrating membrane include lizards skin, bats
wing, and cellophane; however, a preferred material throughout most of the region is the
membrane of a spider’s egg sac. Voice disguisers of this kind are often used by
masqueraders who sing or speak as part of their public appearance. In addition to having
their voice disguised, masqueraders will often speak in archaic or nonlocal languages,
further denying simple comprehension of the spirit by noninitiated members of the
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community. In most cases, this then requires that the masquerader be translated by a
“speaker” or interpreter, an individual who translates for the public and is typically part
of the masquerade entourage.
In some instances, voice-disguise instruments do not actually disguise a human voice,
but instead are themselves employed to create sounds which are meant to be perceived as
deriving from a nonhuman (e.g., spiritual) source. In other words, the voice disguise
literally is the masquerade.
Generally used at night or hidden from sight, these devices include ceramic pot
resonators (sometimes used in conjunction with mirliton instruments, or themselves
serving as large spherical mirlitons), the ubiquitous bull-roarer (a rhomb attached to a
long cord which is swung in a circle above the user’s head), and various combinations of
whistles, bells, and flutes used singly or in combination. More esoteric and complex
“earth friction” and “water” drums (pots of water or small pits in the earth covered with
large leaves) employ different resonators to create high-pitched, “unearthly” sounds
emitted from tautly stretched lengths of moistened sinew or vine. Such spirit
manifestations, which present only aural phenomena, have been termed “acoustic masks”
(Lifschitz 1988, 223).
The spirit being manifested in this instance has no visual form and is perceived only
by the sounds it makes. To reinforce and ensure this spirit’s invisibility, noninitiated
individuals (including women, children, and nonlocals) are forced to remain inside tightly
shuttered houses. Reports from the Dan in Liberia (Zemp 1968) and the Mbuti in the
Democratic Republic of the Congo (Turnbull 1962, 91) describe how teams of men
strategically deployed around a village at night would create identical “spirit voices” to
suggest that the spirit is everywhere all at once, or, utilizing consecutive sound
emanations, that the spirit can “fly” from one part of a village to another.
Recent investigations into the nature and use of sound within African cultures suggests
broad associations of altered, divergent, or “special” sounds with spiritual dimensions of
human social interaction (Peek 1994). Voice-disguise instruments that are used to give
“voice” to the spirit world may be but a single facet of an African propensity for utilizing
sound to designate and to distinguish the spiritual from the mundane.
References
Lifschitz, Edward. 1988. Hearing is Believing: Acoustic Aspects of Masking in Africa. In West
African Masks and Cultural Systems, ed. S.L.Kasfir. Tervuren, Belgium: Musee Royal de
L’Afrique Centrale.
Peek, Philip M. 1994. The Sounds of Silence: Cross-World Communication and the Auditory Arts
in African Societies. American Ethnologist 21, no. 3:474–494.
Turnbull, Colin. 1961. The Forest People. New York: Doubleday/ Anchor.
Zemp, Hugo. 1968. The Music of the Dan. UNESCO Collection—An Anthology of African Music.
Vol. 1. Kassel, Germany: Barenreiter Musicaphon.
EDWARD LIFSCHITZ
See also Masks and Masquerades; Performance in Africa; Silence in Expressive
Behavior; Speaking and Nonspeaking Power Objects of the Senufo
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W
WARI
Wari is a West African board game. This game is a variation of mancala, a group of
board games particularly popular in Africa, but also in Asia and the Americas. It is
played by two players on a board, or in the sand with two rows of six holes and fortyeight counters, such as seeds, beans, shells, or stones. The purpose of the game is to
capture the majority of the counters on the board. Wari is the best-known African
variation of mancala; apart from West Africa, where it is thought to have originated, it is
popular in the Caribbean and South America and reached North America and Europe
through various commercial introductions.
Wari is known under different names, including warri, awélé, oware, and ayo. Other
mancala variations have been recorded which use the same names or the same board and
counters but which apply different playing rules. In some studies wari has become a
generic name for a large group of mancala variations. The same particularly popular
variation is common in both the Caribbean and West Africa. This game is defined by the
following playing rules: The game starts with four counters in each hole of the twelve
playing holes. Players can take up the contents of a hole on their side or row of the board
and spread the counters in counter clockwise direction one by one and in consecutive
holes. Once the contents have been distributed, the move ends. If the last counter in hand
ends up in a hole on the opponent’s side and makes a total of two or three counters, these
are captured by the player and taken from the board. If one or more holes directly
preceding the captured hole also contain two or three counters, these are also captured.
Such a multiple capture occurs as long as the captured holes are on the opponent’s row
and in an uninterrupted sequence. A hole that contains more than eleven counters
completes a full round on the board when its contents are distributed. Such a move will
always omit the hole it started from, leaving the starting hole empty.
If one player does not have any occupied hole left, then the opposing player is
required to play a move that distributes counters to this player’s row. For this reason, a
player is not allowed to make a multiple capture that takes all counters on the opponent’s
side without leaving the opponent a move to play. If the player is not able to give
counters or still plays such a multiple capture, then rules tend to vary when it comes to
the solution to such a problem. The remaining counters may be divided or added to only
one player’s captured total, and the multiple capture may not capture or may capture only
the contents of a few instead of all holes on the row. The player who captured the
majority of the counters wins the game. Wari games, like bao and other mancala games,
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are often played in a series. These series usually consist of three games, in which only
three consecutive wins count as a victory.
These wari rules have been described in detail in the 1890s and perhaps earlier. The
close resemblance of West African and Caribbean wari rules indicate that at least since
the end of the West African slave trade these rules have largely remained the same. This
resemblance is perhaps partly explained by the players’ organizations that can be found
in parts of the Caribbean and West Africa. These organizations often oversee clubs and
recognize master players. Masters or champions have been known for at least a century in
this game. The relatively simple rules and the possibility of playing the game in the sand
have made wari popular outside players’ clubs as well. Although this widespread
popularity is evident today, the literature cannot support the claim that these particular
wari rules were popular or even known prior to the nineteenth century. Wari boards have
been acquired by museums since the late nineteenth century, although it is not always
clear which variation or variations of rules were supposed to be used in play. Stone
boards may date from an earlier time but an accurate dating, and rules adhered to on these
boards, are largely unknown.
Wari boards in West Africa have attracted attention for their sculptured shapes. They
often include a stand or a base which may be decorated with incisions or which may be
sculptured in three-dimensional motifs such as animals, people, a stool, or a boat. Some
stands provide a storage space for counters for which separate closing pegs may be
designed. Optional end holes are sometimes extended in a horn shape from the base to the
rows of cup-shaped holes. Sculptured, colored, and iron or brass boards in museum
collections may originally have been prestige objects rather than popular playing boards.
Although wari is the most popular mancala game in West Africa, wari is one of many
mancala variations played in the region. Most of these variations can be played on a
board of two rows and six holes. Only in the Caribbean and South America do these
variations seem to be limited to two or three, but in these regions sculptured boards have
not yet been recorded in any significant number.
Two masters in Barbados playing wari.
Photo © Alex de Voogt.
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In the twentieth century, a number of commercial introductions took place in Europe and
North America. Sometimes different game rules were offered on the same playing board,
and the name of wari would not always be used or mentioned. The popularity of wari in
Africa and the Caribbean, together with these limited but regular commercial
introductions, have made wari available for various studies conducted by Western
scholars. The simple playing rules made wari suitable for experiments in education and
developmental psychology. The strategic possibilities and the existence of master players
allowed studies on expertise from a cognitive psychological perspective and studies on
artificial intelligence, with the help of computer programs.
Wari remains a popular West African mancala game and one of the few African
games that has gained popularity outside Africa. The sculptured boards and simple but
challenging playing rules illustrate the different interests that wari has served. Although
its origins appear West African, the history of the game prior to the nineteenth century
still remains unclear.
References
Béart, C. 1955. Jeux et jouets de l’Ouest Africain. Dakar: IFAN.
Deledicq, A., and A.Popova. 1977. Wari et solo. Le jeu de calcul Africain. Paris: Cedic.
Herskovits, M.J. 1932. Wari in the New World. Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute
32:23–27.
Retschitzki, J. 1990. Strategies des joueurs d’awélé. Paris: L’Harmattan.
Walker, R.A. 1990. Sculptured Mankala Gameboards of Sub-Saharan Africa. Ph.D. dissertation,
Indiana University.
ALEX DE VOOGT
See also Bao, Mancala
WATER ETHOS: THE IJO OF THE
NIGER DELTA
The several million Ijo-speaking peoples, who inhabit the Niger Delta, differ markedly
from one side of the region to the other. The Eastern Ijo, who occupy a largely saltwater
zone, have long traded inland for agricultural produce and later played a prominent role
in the overseas trade; their reliance on trade led them to form a number of city-states. In
contrast, many Central and Western Ijo live in freshwater regions and combine fishing
with farming; largely cut off from the overseas trade by Eastern Ijo and Itsekiri
middlemen, they have remained stateless.
Beliefs and art forms also differ: for example, the Kalahari Ijo, an eastern delta group,
honor village heroes and commemorate leaders of trading concerns with elaborate
sculptures called nduen fobara; the Ijo living to the west of the Nun River neither
acknowledge village heroes nor commemorate the dead with sculptures. Nevertheless, all
share what we might term a water ethos, which is apparent in shrines, masquerades, and
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rituals, as well as in aquatic exhibitions and performances on land that incorporate canoes
and/or paddling displays.
Ijo living throughout the region acknowledge a female creator and credit nature spirits
with introducing much of their art, including songs, dances, and funeral rites. They
express beliefs in water spirits, who occupy the delta’s myriad waterways, and use masks,
carvings, and objects found in the water to represent them. People claim that these
capricious but largely benevolent beings bring them prosperity, especially in the form of
children and money. Because they associate water spirits with wealth acquired through
trade, manufactured items like dolls and tableware often serve as their emblems, but
paddles and fishing spears can also serve this function. Although the Central and Western
Ijo produce figure carvings to satisfy the demands of the more volatile “bush” spirits for
earthly embodiment, Adumu appears to be the only major water spirit to be depicted in
this manner. Many, like Binipere, Lord of the Water, prefer to remain inside the rivers
and do not request shrines or images.
Virtually all Ijo masks represent water spirits, but they can take a variety of forms:
wooden masks depict them as composite monsters with a mix of human and aquatic
features, as anthropomorphic figures, or as animals, particularly reptiles and marine
animals. Fabric and raffia masks are also common. Although most masks do not
incarnate powerful spirits, the Ijo generally believe that their performances promote
health and prosperity. In the Eastern Ijo region, masking takes place under the auspices of
dancing societies known as Sekiapu or Ekine; to the west, where masking is less formal,
individuals, families, or groups of friends may own masquerades. Performances in both
areas typically include narratives that portray events in the lives of water spirits.
Shrine for the water spirit Adumu.
Azuzama, Bassan clan, central Ijo,
1978.
Photo © Martha G.Anderson.
Most Ijo stories revolve around the antics of water spirits. Narrators typically present
the tales they spin as true, no matter how incredible, and end by naming a particular
person as the source of the story in order to bolster the appearance of veracity. Many set
their yarns in Ado (Benin) or Beke-ama (overseas), much as Westerners introduce fairy
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tales by saying “Once upon a time” or “Long ago and far away.” Plots often involve
people who go into the water to look for lost articles, meet water spirits like Binipere and
Adumu, then return home to report their marvelous adventures. The Ijo tell stories
primarily to entertain, but many deliver moral lessons by illustrating the consequences of
human foibles like greed and duplicity. Because storytelling involves multiples and
repetitions, most tales take an hour or more to tell (Leis 1962, 153–154).
Oki (sawfish) masquerade and Oki
dancing. Akedei, Oiyakiri clan,
western Ijo, 1992. The sawfish’s
wicked-looking rostrum and enormous
size make Oki a popular character in
masquerades throughout the Niger
Delta.
Photo © Martha G.Anderson.
Many of the proverbs the Ijo liberally employ to enliven their speech use animals to
provide lessons for humanity, and many involve reptiles and aquatic animals. Proverbs
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tend to have two parts: the first part of an animal proverb usually names the creature; the
second makes a statement about the animal or draws a moral, as in “A dead crab can no
longer get into its hole,” meaning “There can be no going back” or “The tilapia said:
‘Until my bones are dumped on the rubbish heap, do not weep for me,’” meaning, “Do
not accept defeat until every possible avenue of escape has been explored.” Others draw
on experience, for example: “A fish trapper does not set his trap once” reminds people
that someone who wants something must persevere (Alagoa 1986).
The Ijo love to sing and have many types of songs, including paddling songs.
Performances usually include multiple repetitions of both lyrics and songs. Some songs
evoke the lapping of waves on the riverbanks or the rhythmic splash of paddles, like a
song Central Ijo women sing while commuting to and from their farms by canoe:
Paddle, paddle
Oh! Paddle
The carp was paddling
A canoe underwater
But the paddle
Broke in his hand
Paddle, paddle
Oh! Paddle
(Anderson and Peek 2002, 133)
Songs, like tales and proverbs, often refer to the environment or the spirits who live in the
water and bush. A song for a water spirit reflects beliefs that spirits from this realm bring
good fortune, such as this unpublished song collected by the author in Azuzama from the
Bussan clan in 1979:
A spirit-stick was floating in the water
The rich man didn’t see it
The poor man picked it up
Adumu has come to the poor man’s house
In contrast, bush spirits offer support in war, hunting, and wrestling, as reflected in their
songs and images. Most shrines feature a central male figure holding weapons and
wearing bullet-proofing medicines. Feathers and body paint signify that he holds a title
granted by the clan war god to proven warriors. He may be larger than life-size and have
multiple heads, in keeping with the prevailing image of bush spirits as gargantuan,
grotesque, and dangerous beings who roam the forest and command superhuman powers.
Although the song sung for Benaaghe, a bush spirit from Azama in Apoi clan, is a war
song, it, too, refers to the watery environment:
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I’have prepared my fishing basket and taken it to the
lake
Benaaghe my father
I’ve prepared my fishing basket and taken it to the lake
Anyone who doesn’t fish is afraid of the lake
(Anderson and Peek 2002, 144)
In the nearly roadless region the Ijo occupy, the canoe plays a prominent role in both
daily and ritual life. Not only does early every traditional occupation requires canoe
travel, funeral rites, offerings for water spirits, and various other performances often
incorporate real or conceptual canoes. In addition, dancers frequently employ paddling
motions and mimic the way canoes move in the water. The Ijo distinguish between three
types of canoe: the most common serves as everything from an essential mode of
transportation to a convenient bathroom to a whimsical prop for masquerades. The war
canoe, a larger version, nowadays appears on ceremonial occasions; the sacrificial canoe
serves as a spiritual war canoe by warding off evil spirits and combating epidemic
disease. Sacrificial canoes range from about one to seven or more feet long. After
parading them through town to the accompaniment of drums and songs, the Ijo either
mount them at the waterside or float them downstream.
The arts frequently incorporate references to both watercraft and fish. Fishing
implements appear alongside canoes and paddles in shrines for water spirits, and wooden
fish occasionally join paddles as props for dancing. Masquerades sometimes reenact
fishing expeditions on land and maskers may arrive at their venues by canoe. The
Kalahari, who continue to make masquerade headdresses in the form of ocean liners,
once built grand houses using trading vessels as their models.
References
Alagoa. 1986. Noin nengia, here nengia: Nembe n’akabu. (More Days, More Wisdom: Nembe
Proverbs). Delta Series No. 5. Port Harcourt, Nigeria: University of Port Harcourt Press.
Anderson, Martha G. 1996. Ijo. In The Dictionary of Art. London: Macmillan, vol. 15.
——. 1997. The Delta. In Arts du Nigeria. Paris: Reunion musées nationaux.
Anderson, Martha G., and Philip M.Peek, eds. 2002. Ways of the Rivers: Arts and Environment of
the Niger Delta. Los Angeles: UCLA Museum of Cultural History.
Clark, J.P. 1977. The Ozidi Saga. Ibadan: Ibadan University Press and Oxford University Press
Nigeria.
Richer, Joanne B., and Tonye V.Erekosima. 1987. Kalabari Funerals: Celebration and Display.
African Arts no. 1:38–45, 87.
Horton, Robin. 1965. Kalabari Sculpture. Lagos: Department of Antiquities, Federal Republic of
Nigeria.
Leis, Philip M. 1962. Enculturation and Cultural Change in an Ijaw Community. Ph.D. dissertation,
Northwestern University.
Okara, Gabriel. 1958. Ogboinba: The Ijaw Creation Myth. Black Orpheus 2:9–18.
MARTHA G.ANDERSON
African folklore
1020
WEST AFRICAN FOLKLORE:
OVERVIEW
West Africa is generally understood to comprise the countries and cultures between the
Atlantic Ocean and the southern edge of the Sahara, from Mauritania across to Lake
Chad, and southwest to the Atlantic Ocean along the southern border of Cameroon. This
area incorporates the territory of the once great kingdoms of the Western Sudan (old
Ghana, Songhai, and Mali) as well as the formerly powerful kingdoms of the forests,
such as the Ashanti Federation, the Yoruba city-states, and the Benin Kingdom. In large
part due to the trans-Saharan trade between North Africa (and, by extension, Europe and
the Middle East) and the forests of West Africa, these kingdoms experienced large
populations and great wealth long before Europeans reached the coast in the early
fifteenth century. Trade routes shifted, and trade goods changed, after European contact.
Soon the cruel traffic in African slaves dominated commerce, and the great cities of the
Sahel, such as Timbuctu, Gao, Kong, and Kano, diminished in importance. As European
powers consolidated their gains, capital cities developed along the West African coast.
Broadly speaking, a north-south divide (too often a poorer-richer, Muslim–Christian
divide as well) continues to plague the countries of West Africa, as all attempt to adjust
to a new age of exploitation.
Although academic activities were seldom part of the early European colonial process,
by the end of the nineteenth century Europeans were focusing more on the verbal arts and
traditional cultures of the people. Missionaries sought language examples in folktales for
Bible translations, colonial administrators studied local legal customs in order to
administer their territories, and traders learned the objects of local value in order to make
more money. By the early part of the twentieth century a number of individuals were
making extraordinary collections of local tales and customs. Interestingly, each major
European nation had a few key scholars; for example, Leo Frobenius was reporting to a
German audience, R.S.Rattray collected traditional lore in both the Gold Coast (later
Ghana) and Nigeria, and Francois-Victor Equilbecq recorded customs in the areas of
French West Africa. Although some were seeking evidence for grand theories (such as
Frobenius about Atlantis), most were satisfied with learning more about the people being
colonized, for to know them better was to rule them better as was often asserted by the
English.
It was not until around the time of World War II that rigorous academic research was
conducted in West Africa (Griaule began his life’s work with the Dogon in 1931 and
Bascom first worked among the Yoruba in 1938). The earlier collections of folktales and
proverbs are of some interest today, but their scholarly use is severely limited without
cultural context. Occasionally, the earlier scholarship was still tainted with prejudiced
notions of West African peoples. In the second half of the twentieth century, increasingly
sophisticated and sensitive studies were made not only of traditional folklore topics, but
of “emerging” areas, such as popular culture, electronic media, and tourism.
Most recently, there has been a significant growth in the number of African scholars
interested in their own traditions. In a sense, once the racist and paternalistic terminology
of European and American folklorists and anthropologists changed, more Africans felt
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comfortable studying their own traditions. Throughout West Africa, university-based
institutes of African studies, once staffed only by foreigners, now boast rosters of African
scholars. Although these institutes came to be negatively viewed by some Africans, the
fact remains that they have produced an extraordinary body of scholarship by promoting
research in West Africa, as with IFAN for Francophone countries and the university
institutes in Anglophone countries, and by promoting publication in Europe, as with the
International African Institute in London and the Centre National de la Recherche
Scientifique, among others, in Paris. There is also a notable increased use of traditional
themes, motifs, and materials by African artists and writers. This has also assisted in the
“validation” of traditional folklore and art forms. All are benefiting from this renewed
interest, although virtually all West African countries continue to suffer from little or no
funding for higher education and research scholarship.
Nigeria provides many examples of the literary interest in verbal arts and oral
traditions. One might first cite Nigeria Magazine, a quasi-government publication that
always included articles on traditional arts and ceremonies as well as poetry. Uli Beier’s
efforts in founding, with other colleagues, the literary and arts journals Black Orpheus
and Odu, at the University of Ibadan, provided great impetus for the dissemination of
folklore. Among the Yoruba of western Nigeria, not only did a number of indigenous
writers and playwrights, such as Duro Ladipo, publish and produce major work in
Yoruba, but several writers became famous for their idiosycratic use of English, such as
Amos Tutola. Igbo novelist Chinua Achebe’s early novels are virtual ethnographies, due
to their detailed portrayal of Igbo village life, and use of proverbs. Nobel prizewinner
Wole Soyinka also employs traditional Yoruba motifs and traditions in his plays, as does
poet and playwright J.P. Clark. The vibrant city life of Lagos was captured by Cyprian
Ekwensi. This use of local life, lore, and language has continued, as with novelist and
television writer Ken Saro-Wiwa, who was killed by the last military government for his
environmentalist activism in the Niger Delta.
The wealth of expressive forms in West Africa is too great to be easily summarized
here. Although the courts of West Africa no longer have the power they once did, their
art forms continue to be practiced. In the courts of the Asantehene of the Ashanti and the
Oba of Benin City, there has been a serious revival of court arts and ancient ritual
practices recently. Among the descendents of the Western Sudanese kingdoms, griots still
perform the epics of Sundjata and the other great kings. In the Cameroons, the fabulous
architecture of the royal villages still stands. Historical records are still found in the
bronze plaques of the Benin kingdom, the Odu verses of Ifa divination among the
Yoruba, and the applique flags of Dahomey in the Republic of Benin.
The sheer diversity of folklore forms is striking. Puppet theaters still perform among
the Tiv and Ogoni of Nigeria and in Mali. Masquerades continue to develop and adapt
new characters in the rural areas and to find revitalized expressions among urban
populations. Synthetic raffia, enamel paints, plastic parts, whatever: all can be used. The
increasing use of Theater for Development has revitalized traditional drama forms, from
masquerades to folktale sessions among, for example, the Bamana of Mali and Tiv of
Nigeria. Narratives filled with the exploits of tricksters and heroes entertain and advise
their audiences.
Traditional ceremonies still mark life’s passage from birth to death and are validated
and embellished with verbal arts, music and dance, historical narratives, and appropriate
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1022
food and dress. Local healing traditions, ancient divination practices, and all forms of
traditional wisdom continue to guide people. No other area reflects the continuity and
creativity of tradition better than textiles. In Cote d’Ivoire, new factory-printed textiles
arrive daily in the markets and are absorbed into local cultures by being linked to
proverbs and the esthetic preferences of the area. Ivoirian dyers and weavers continue to
produce textiles in ancient colors and patterns, while simultaneously experimenting with
contemporary motifs and dyes.
West African music is known throughout the world. Once typified by “highlife,” West
African musicians, often influenced by local, traditional music and instruments, perform
a wide range of music. Many musicians have a worldwide audience and travel
extensively, but still return to perform at home regularly. Islamic and Christian religious
musical traditions have also influenced West African music, starting centuries ago and
continuing through contemporary religious movements.
The “traditional” topics of folklore scholarship—major prose narrative forms such as
myths, folktales, and legends, as well as riddles and proverbs—continue to be used by the
people as well as scholars. Entertainment in villages and cities is still found in folktale
sessions as well as more unique forms of verbal arts such as the tone riddles and tonguetwisters, which respectively use shifting phonemic tones and repeated consonants, of the
Yoruba. The use of traditional verbal art and speech forms by contemporary West
African writers, and the increased sophistication of folklore scholarship (both literary and
anthropological) have further revealed the enormous value of these forms for
understanding cultural values and creativity. We should appreciate not only the scholarly
study and indigenous performance of these forms, but the insightful popular cultural use
as well. While “Onitsha literature” and concert parties were once considered awkward
idiosyncratic transitional practices, we now understand how much they have to tell us.
Tourism has had an impact as well. At one level, tourists’ interests, though differing
from the native peoples’ interests, nevertheless provide income for artists. Sometimes,
forgotten arts are revived for a distant market. Sometimes the artists create overseas.
Malian and Senegalese musicians record in Paris and New York for expatriate as well as
world music audiences. Some academic institutions in the United States invite traditional
carvers and potters to their schools. Folkloric touring groups perform in the smallest
cities of the United States and Europe; they also provide entertainment for national
functions in their own countries.
Television and radio continue to record and broadcast traditional folktales as well as
modern-day adaptations. Cote d’Ivoire has a regular evening program of folktales told in
local languages, followed by videotaped footage of dances from the same area. Both
Ghana and Nigeria have a busy industry of local video dramas many of which are sold in
London and elsewhere overseas. And in the villages, local audiences now record their
own celebrations on camcorders.
Another important area of continuity that we are learning more about is the degree to
which West African folklore persists in the Americas. A majority of the Africans forced
into slavery and taken to the Americas were from West Africa. As is seen elsewhere in
this volume, one easily finds evidence of the African heritage throughout the Americas in
religion, verbal arts, food, dance, daily speech, and celebrations. Ifá divination of the
Yoruba is still practiced in Cuba; Western Sudanese musicians continue to influence
musicians in the United State; religious practices from the Congo still protect people in
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Haiti. And, now that an African heritage is a matter of pride not shame, many African
Americans travel to West Africa and return with arts and lore.
Despite the vitality of folklore in West Africa today, this area has seen its share of
tragedy as well. Although not suffering from the HIV/AIDS epidemic to the horrific
extent of southern Africa, nor the genocide of Rwanda, West Africa still has areas of
great suffering. Both Liberia and Sierra Leone have experienced prolonged civil wars.
Nigeria had its civil war in the late 1960s, while Cote d’Ivoire is currently experiencing
such a breakdown. Each country has had its share of military coups, corrupt governments,
and ecological disasters. Nevertheless, creation and performance of folklore forms in all
media continue to provide self-identity, spiritual aid, entertainment, and practical
instruction for the people.
References
Abimbola, Wande. 1976. Ifa: An Exposition of Ifa Literary Corpus. Ibadan: Oxford University
Press.
Barber, Karin. 1991. I Could Speak Until Tomorrow: Oriki, Women, and the Past in a Yoruba
Town. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press.
Beier, Ulli. 1970. Yoruba Poetry. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Calame-Griaule, Genevieve. 1986. Words and the Dogon World (1965), trans. D.La Pin.
Philadelphia: Institute for the Study of Human Issues.
Cosentino, D. 1982. Defiant Maids and Stubborn Farmers: Tradition and Invention in Mende Story
Performance. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Derive, Jean. 1987. Le fonctionnement sociologique de la litterature orale: L ‘exemple des Dioula
de Kong. Paris: Institut d’Ethnologie, Archives Sonores.
Finnegan, Ruth. 1967. Limba Stories and Storytelling. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Furniss, Graham. 1996. Poetry, Prose, and Popular Culture in Hausa. Edinburgh: Edinburgh
University Press.
Gorog-Karady, Veronika, and G.Meyer. 1985. Contes bambara (Bamana and French Texts). Paris:
Conseil International de la Langue francaise.
Griaule, M., and G.Dieterlen. 1986. The Pale Fox (1965). Trans S.C.Infantine, China Valley, AZ:
Continuum Foundation.
Hale, Thomas. 1998. Griots and Griottes: Masters of Words and Music. Bloomington: Indiana
University Press.
Herskovits, Melville J. and Frances. 1957 Dahomean Narrative. Northwestern University Press.
Jackson, Michael. 1982. Allegories of the Wilderness: Ethics and Ambiguity in Kuranko Narratives.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Johnson, John W. 1986. The Epic of Son-Jara: A West African Tradition. Bloomington: Indiana
University Press.
Okpweho, Isidore. 1992. African Oral Literature: Backgrounds, Character, and Continuity.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Olatunji, Olatunde. 1984. Features of Yoruba Oral Poetry. Ibadan: Ibadan University Press.
Seydou, Christiane, ed. and trans. 1976. La geste de Ham-Bodedio au Hama le Rouge. Classiques
africains 18. Paris: Les Belles Lettres, and Armand Colin.
Yankah, Kwesi. 1995. Speaking for the Chief: Okyeame and the Politics of Royal Oratory.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
PHILIP M.PEEK
See also French Study of African Folklore; German Study of African Folklore;
Institutional Study of African Folklore
African folklore
1024
WESTERN SAHARA
Although the Western Sahara is not exactly an independent nation, there is cause to
present it as such. After a complex history, it has been claimed by (and occupied by)
Morocco since 1976; but this is in defiance of the Organization of African Unity and the
United Nations. Of its 103,000 square miles (larger than England, Scotland, and Wales
combined), Morocco controls two-thirds, while the Polisaro (those fighting for the
country’s independence) controls one-third.
The indigenous peoples of the area, the Saharawis, have ancient roots here. We know
that Arabs reached the territory in their seventh-century sweep across northern Africa; but
“modern” history usually begins in 1884 when the Spanish took control, establishing Rio
de Oro in 1885 and Spanish Sahara in 1910. Spain did little with the area until the mid1960s, as most of African began regaining its independence from European powers. The
UN asked Spain to organize a referendum vote by the people in 1966. In 1967, liberation
movements began, although they were violently repressed by the Spanish.
By the 1970s, Morocco claimed that, historically, it had controlled this area. Despite
an International Court of Justice decision to the contrary, Morocco pursued its claim by
allowing thousands of Moroccan troops to enter Western Sahara. A secret agreement was
signed in 1975 by which Spain granted the country to Morocco and Mauritania.
Therefore, in 1976, when Spain formally left the area, Morocco was already an
occupying force in opposition to the claims of real independence by the Polisaro, who
declared the region the nation of the Saharwi Arab Democratic Republic.
After several Polisaro attacks, Mauritania signed a peace agreement in 1979 and
relinquished its claim to any territory. Nevertheless, armed conflicts continue. In 1997, it
was estimated that there were 200,000 Moroccan settlers, 120,000 Moroccan soldiers,
and 65,000 Saharawis in the occupied area. This area is separated from the Polisarocontrolled area by a huge fortified wall that Morocco built. This has been an
extraordinarily expensive war for Morocco, costing it nearly one million dollars a day.
In 1985, the OAU recognized the Saharawi Arab Democratic Republic. This caused
Morocco to leave the organization. Although sixty-seven countries recognized the
republic, Morocco continued to deny it. In 1990, the United Nations put forward a peace
plan. Although the ceasefire took effect in 1991, Morocco has yet to accept the call for a
referendum by the people.
Among the area’s riches are phosphates. Their exploitation by Morocco increases its
status as the world’s largest exporter of phosphates. Western Sahara’s Atlantic fishing
grounds are among the richest in the world.
PHILIP M.PEEK
WESTERN SUDANESE KINGDOMS
See Epics; Griots and Griottes; West African Folklore: Overview
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WITCHCRAFT, MAGIC, AND
SORCERY
The student of African folklore must be careful when encountering the terms witchcraft,
magic, and sorcery to ascertain exactly what is meant. They have wide ranges of
meaning, and may be used interchangeably and pejoratively. All three are frequently
categorized under the pidgin English term juju—roughly equivalent to today’s concept of
occult. They are often regarded as embarrassing aspects of a superstitious, “primitive”
past; and they may be omitted or given only brief mention in modern discussions of
traditional African culture. Systematic recording of African cultural traditions began in
the colonial era; European administrative agencies, and Christian missionaries, regarded
magic, sorcery, and witchcraft—and, of course, much of African ritual and belief—as
dangerous, evil, or even satanic. Often, indeed, the use of these terms may reveal more
about the beliefs and biases of their users than about the phenomena under consideration.
But in fact the concepts are important in both traditional and modern African societies.
Understanding them yields insight into cosmological ideas and the workings of society;
moreover, they are not uniquely African but are expressions of universal human ways of
thinking.
A common meaning of any of these terms involves dealing with spirits, by means of
possession, mediumship, or command. All African peoples recognize that spiritual
beings: gods, ancestors, ghosts, and good or evil spirits in nature, can affect things in the
material world; and that such beings can be influenced and even commanded by people.
This is spirit invocation and it is dangerous, because most spirits are sentient beings with
wills of their own. Magic, sorcery and witchcraft operate according to quite different
premises. The most useful meanings are found in anthropologists’ use of these terms (see
Stevens 1996).
Magic
Magic involves the human use of symbols to harness and control power, and affect things
without spiritual assistance. There are at least four fundamental and pan-human beliefs
underlying the operation of magic: (1) all things in the world are invisibly (“mystically”)
interconnected past, present, and future; (2) all things have some degree of communicable
power; (3) symbols—actions, objects, words, or thoughts—which in any way resemble,
embody meaning of, or have been in contact with the thing to be affected, have an active
connection with that thing in the classic principles of sympathetic magic; (4) symbols
take on the power of the things they represent. A good discussion of the concept of
mystical power and its role in magic, sorcery, and witchcraft in African belief systems is
provided by Mbiti (1989, 189–98).
Magic requires no special skill or innate gift; it can be learned by anyone. Magic may
be performed openly and routinely by individuals to enhance their own physical efforts,
or for general good fortune, for themselves or for the good of the community. Verbal
blessing is the most common example of individual beneficial magic. Magic may also be
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intertwined with religious ritual, as people may directly supplicate supernatural beings,
while symbolically trying to influence nature. The symbolic use of colors in magical
ways is common in ritual: white represents holiness and spiritual purity, but it is also the
color of milk and semen, and hence it may be associated with growth and fertility
respectively; red is blood, hence vitality, energy and life itself, but it is also anger or fire,
and can be negative and dangerous; black is darkness and negativity (see Turner 1967).
Farmers may employ a variety of “rain charms,” such as devices that when shaken
imitate the sound of falling rain, or drums that imitate thunder. Whenever the king of
Bachama (of northern Nigeria) ventures out of his palace, from the end of the dry season
through the rainy season, he wears dark (dunge, “black”) indigo dyed robes, in sympathy
with the expected dark rain clouds; but towards the end of the rainy season and
throughout the dry season, he wears pale blue robes to encourage the natural forces that
bring about clear blue skies. Much of people’s social activities reflect the belief that
human actions or words can affect nature. No matter how adverse conditions may be,
people are reluctant to speak or even think pessimistically. The widely popular sport of
wrestling may also have magical implications; bouts between strong young men may be
connected to agricultural rituals at the beginning of the cultivating and planting season.
Similarly, orgies of sexual activity associated with such rituals were reported by early
colonial chroniclers, before such activities were halted by Europeans with different ideas
of morality.
The principles of magic may be evident in rituals of divination, most clearly those
activated by words alone, like the famous Zande oracles discussed by E.E. EvansPritchard (1937), as opposed to instances in which the revelation is believed to be given
directly by a spiritual agency. Taboo may be regarded as the avoidance of establishing a
magical connection; a pregnant woman must never carry a water pot, engage in weaving
or tying, or cut with sharp instruments. Some strong powers should not come into contact
with others; menstruating women or people who have not washed after sexual intercourse
should not handle food or come near small children. Magical methods are widely used in
healing as well. Muslim healers often inscribe a verse from the Koran in soluble ink,
rinse it off with water and give the solution to the patient to drink.
Magical power may be harnessed for protection against the spells of sorcerers or the
activities of evil spirits and witches. Krige (1947) reported that the coastal Lovedu (in
South Africa) placed magical “medicines” of whale oil, sea sand, and other products of
the sea at strategic points around the village so that the night-flying witches would see
only water and become disoriented. Children and the sick are believed especially
vulnerable to evil forces and therefore may wear necklaces or waistbands of magical
beads and various powerful items. Eggs, horns, and representations of the female genitals
are powerful magical symbols often used for protection. Cowries are magically powerful,
because of their resemblance to the vulva. Priests dealing routinely with spirits are
especially vulnerable to any forms of supernatural evil when in states of possession. They
employ a wide variety of magical protections, as do hunters, who spend long periods in
the “bush” (a term used for any area outside human settlement) where various evil agents
are known to dwell. Such people with dangerous professions often wear special shirts
with leather pouches containing magical materials sewn into the fabric, or with dangling
cowries or tiny horns. Collectors of African art and material culture have noted the
variety of apotropaic devices used by householders and shrine-keepers. Words are
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powerful in Africa; the written word gives the word’s meaning an awesome permanence
and is used magically throughout the continent.
Magic for good fortune, protection and defense, and in offense as sorcery, is used
today by athletes, including traditional wrestlers and boxers as well as participants in
soccer and other modern sports; by soldiers and rebels, members of gangs and protest
movements in encounters with civil authorities—indeed, by any persons in direct
competition or conflict with others. Newspaper reports of armed conflicts routinely
record “dangerous charms” in their inventories of weapons used.
Each culture has its own inventory of magical items, which may include particular
minerals, insects, parts of specific plants or animals, and artifacts whose symbolic
meanings might be intelligible only within that culture’s tradition and language. Since the
basic principles of magic are absolutely universal, they seem to illustrate fundamental
human ways of thinking.
Sorcery
The natural order of things is inherently good. Magic enhances nature. Sorcery is
negative magic that encourages natural forces to act in abnormal ways. This is dangerous
as it disrupts the natural program. Any act of magic motivated by a desire to do harm to
another person or to enrich oneself at the expense of another is sorcery. Sorcery is
antisocial and illegal, and is therefore secretive, performed clandestinely and difficult to
document. Fears of sorcery are ubiquitous. However, careful study may indicate that the
actual practice is uncommon.
Materials for magic and hence for sorcery, are openly sold in public markets as juju
items. They are usually displayed in stalls set apart from areas where foodstuffs and
domestic items are sold. Sorcery, as Krige (1947) put it, involves “lawful means put to
unlawful ends.” Stevens (1988) records the case of a Yoruba boy, eleven years old, who
performed sorcery openly against the opponents of his school’s table tennis team. The
boy had purchased a. juju padlock at the local market, specifically a European metal
padlock wrapped in hyena fur (the hyena is a common familiar animal of witches) with a
red silk ribbon tied onto it, which is then attached to a large iron staple. When the staple
is thrust into the ground, a spell is spoken and the padlock is locked around it; whatever is
spoken will also be “locked” into place. The boy, naive about the dangers in what he was
doing, had performed this little rite just outside the games hall where an important table
tennis match was under way. The boy had to run for his life from an enraged mob of
students from both schools, who were terrified about whatever powers he may have
unleashed.
Similar cases involving adults are probably rare. A curse, a verbal expression of ill
will toward another, is the most commonly recorded example of sorcery. Most often
curses are made in the heat of argument or in drunkenness; and an apology, a retraction
of the harmful words, is the minimal remedy. Court records throughout Africa contain
many cases brought by people against alleged cursers.
People have fairly clear ideas of how sorcery can be done. The belief that one can hurt
another by damaging or speaking a curse to a physical representation of the target person
is common, in the universal fear of harmful “image magic.” People everywhere take care
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to dispose of bodily leavings or soiled clothing, lest they be used by sorcerers. Such fears
also account for the custom of not giving a baby a name until several days after its birth,
and in many societies, never revealing the most intimate personal name given to a child.
The name of a thing embodies the essence of the thing itself, and is a vital element in
magic and sorcery.
It is presumed that herbalists and healers who have occult knowledge may be skilled at
sorcery, and that people with social grievances can hire them, or purchase sorcery
materials from them. Men are suspected of sorcery more often than women, but anyone
can learn it; therefore the fear of it tempers people’s social interactions. This is the classic
“social control function” of sorcery beliefs and of witchcraft, as we shall see below.
African terms for magic and sorcery are often variants of each other; both may fall
under the English word medicine, meaning any natural or supernatural substance or ritual
activity that can affects one’s health. The negative side of medicine may be expressed as
bad medicine or poison. Poison often refers to negative mystical power as to a toxic
substance. Furthermore, most African peoples distinguish linguistically between at least
two forms of the human projection of supernatural evil, as Sir Edward Evans-Pritchard
carefully noted for the Azande in his famous 1937 study. Among the Bachama of Nigeria
human supernatural evil is mwito; sorcery is mwito fore or mwito by day, referring to the
fact that, theoretically, anyone can learn and practice it. Sorcery by cursing is mwito
kwame, mwito by mouth or speech.
Witchcraft
Another Bachama concept, mwito surato or original mwito is best translated as
“witchcraft.” Following Evans-Pritchard’s pioneering work, it was realized that most subSaharan peoples differentiate between sorcery, learned evil magic, and witchcraft, which
is an innate inherited ability. Sometimes, as in the Zande mangu, Tiv tsav, or pythons in
the bellies of Nyakyusa witches, witchcraft power is vested in a real, tangible substance
in the body, which can be mystically removed by a “witchdoctor” or discovered through
autopsy. Witchcraft is a corrupted form of the personal power, sometimes equated with
personality or the “soul” inherent in everyone, such as the Akan sunsum, Yoruba ashe, or
Bachama fwato. Witchcraft power may operate independently of its bearer’s will or even
knowledge. When active, the power of witchcraft is always evil.
Activated by any negative emotion, the power has twelve attributes similar to
witchcraft beliefs elsewhere in the world, of which a few seem to be uniquely African
variants. Scholars have noted the similarities between African and medieval European
witch beliefs. The following is a list of the twelve attributes: (1) The power renders the
witch antisocial, dedicated to the subversion of the social order. (2) The witch is mostly
nocturnal. (3) The power enables the witch to transform itself, into any other form, or to
become invisible and to (4) fly through the air, often at great speed. (5) The witch has an
alter-ego, usually an animal with which it shares the power and send out on its mission of
evil; the “familiar” of European folklore. Killing or injuring the animal will kill or
incapacitate the witch. (6) The witches of a community meet together periodically to
collectively enhance their powers and to plot new evil against society. (7) Witches spread
disease. A first task of AIDS workers today is to assure people that this disease is not
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spread by witchcraft. (8) Witches steal (the souls of) children, providing one explanation
of infant mortality. (9) At their gatherings, witches engage in incest or other forms of
illicit sexual behavior and (10) ritual murder of their kidnapped human victims, and the
ritual use of body parts. (11) Witches eat the flesh and drink the blood of their victims.
Whether or not any form of cannibalism ever actually occurred is a matter of ongoing
debate in African and world ethnology; but it certainly is among the most abhorrent of
human imaginings, and it is often the defining feature of African witches. Any long
debilitating illness will most likely be attributed to a witch slowly “eating” the life-force
of the sufferer. And (12) witches are invariably associated with death in three ways: they
cause death, their gatherings are held in cemeteries, and myths say that a society’s
original witches were granted powers by a dark deity or other terrible supernatural being
associated with human mortality.
In these ways, African witches are like witches elsewhere in the world, and have
attributes with cultural elaborations on fundamental human fears. For example, in a
classic 1951 article, Monica Hunter Wilson called witchcraft “the standardized nightmare
of a group.” There are also some witchcraft attributes shared only with a few others, or
which may be uniquely African. Universally, women are suspected of being witches
more often than men; but in a few regions, including Africa, it is generally believed that
only women can pass on the trait to their offspring, or to other women who wish to
acquire it. Among the Yoruba for example, it is believed that young girls may gather
around a dying old witch, hoping she will vomit up the witchcraft substance and allow
them to catch it and swallow it. When flying about at night African witches often emit
visible light, conceived as fire shooting out from the anus or the armpits. African witches
and sorcerers are suspected of enchanting and enslaving people, either as living victims
or corpses (the origin of the Haitian zombi). Similar to the related phenomenon of Evil
Eye in North Africa and elsewhere, the fact that witchcraft power may operate without its
bearer’s knowledge has important social implications in Africa. If general social opinion
(usually confirmed by divination) identifies an individual as a witch and holds him or her
responsible for some misfortune, the accused may make a credible claim of ignorance, an
apology, or some recompense to the victim, and the issue is usually settled. An
interesting aspect of African witchcraft is the belief that the corrupted power is evil and
punishable only when active; when dormant it is benign and may be regarded as a
distinctive marker of societal membership. Each society regards its own form of personal
power as unique, and as evidence of direct lineal descent from the culture founders. The
people of Bachama know that there are witches and cannibals in other societies, but only
a Bachama person may have mwito. In some cases of disputed descent or rights to
inheritance reference to this unique form of supernatural evil is made. For example, a
person of original Bachama descent is referred to as jibato ka mwito, of the patrilineage
with the potential for witchcraft. A person whose ancestors were adopted into Bachama
society after its establishment is jibato a mwito, of the patrilineage but without this
unique Bachama marker, and possibly ineligible for some important right or social
position.
Magical defenses against witchcraft have been mentioned above; people also enlist a
wide variety of spiritual aids, including masquerades like the Gelede of the Yoruba,
aimed at placating the “mothers;” and the Nupe Ndako-Gboya, a large cloth cylinder
containing a wild bush spirit that sweeps witches from the village. Some peoples have
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organizations, often called “secret societies,” of witch finders and demon exorcisers, who
identify witches through various mystical means, and with special devices and weapons
can injure or drive out witches and malign spirits. Members of such a group among the
Bachama have a special “sight” (diya), mystical eyes at the center of the forehead and at
the occiput, which enable them to “see” witches, and to distinguish evil spirits from
benign ones.
The Social Psychology of Sorcery and Witchcraft
Sorcery is malicious and dreaded, but witchcraft is a standard fact of African social life.
The literature on African sorcery and witchcraft is tremendous, and many social,
psychological, and cosmological explanations have been offered. They are favorite topics
for analysis by the British structural school of anthropology, and most of the major
African journals have devoted special issues to the topics (most recently Ciekawy and
Geschiere 1998), and have many references to specific studies in their indices. (For a
good summary of the ethnography of African witchcraft, see Mair 1969; a notable
collection of studies focusing on East African cases is Middleton and Winter 1963; some
of the more important early African studies are found in Marwick 1982.) There are also
many monographs on specific societies.
All scholars agree on certain positive functions of sorcery and witchcraft beliefs. For
example, they explain misfortune in nature and in society, promote responsible social
behavior, and in times of stress, satisfy the human psychological need for a scapegoat.
The scapegoating function of witchcraft beliefs is its most common explanation in Africa
and elsewhere, and is strengthened by the observation that beliefs in witchcraft are absent
in mobile societies. These include hunter-gatherers and pastoralists, in which social
tensions can be resolved by people moving away from one another. The scapegoating
function is clearest in the close correlation between witchcraft accusations and social
anxiety and frustration, such as accompanies rapid social change.
Some scholars consider a linguistic or conceptual distinction between sorcery and
witchcraft to be irrelevant, because both are allegedly performed for similar reasons, by
persons in similar relationships to the victim, both achieve similar ends, and both are
dreaded. In the context of collective social stress, the distinction becomes less important
and may even be confused; what is important is who is causing the evil that spreads in
society. It is in such contexts that traditional patterns of suspicion, accusation and
methods of identification and punishment of witches may break down, social frustration
may explode, and a societywide witch-hunt may occur, which aims to drive out the
perceived causes of social misfortune.
Witch-hunts were conducted by organized groups during the colonial times, such as
the Bamucapi movement among Bemba in 1934 (Richards 1935); the Atinga witchfinding movement among the Yoruba in the early 1950s (Morton-Williams 1956); and
the Kamcape movement among the Fipa in the early 1960s (Willis 1968).
With independence there have been new problems, new expectations, new political
alliances, new disappointments, and new responses within the traditional idiom of sorcery
and witchcraft beliefs. Sorcery and witchcraft suspicions are ever-present in the poverty
and near-hopelessness of life for many in Africa’s cities. Sexual proficiency, marked by
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fertility and sexual potency, may take on great importance such as a mark of personal
achievement, making it a more frequent target for sorcery. In Lagos, Nigeria, in 1990, a
wave of “penis-snatching” fears terrified the male population. An encounter with a
stranger could result in an immediate shrinking of the penis and total disappearance of the
entire genitals. Many deaths were caused by beatings of accused individuals by enraged
mobs.
In 1980 and 1981 some ritual muti (occult, juju) murders, and rumors of many more,
caused considerable social unrest in Swaziland. In the years following the dismantling of
apartheid in South Africa in the early 1990s, many hundreds of people have been seized
by mobs and burned as witches. In Tanzania between 1998 and 1999 allegations of ritual
murders and dealings in human body parts led to hundreds, some reported as thousands,
of lynchings and burnings of alleged sorcerers by mobs. Women with red eyes (a
traditional distinguishing mark of a witch) were particularly suspect—often in the close
unventilated atmosphere of urban slum quarters, where cooking smoke often reddened
women’s eyes. In August 1999, a mob in Port Harcourt, a large city in Nigeria’s troubled
Niger Delta region, attacked a homeless man who was reported by a small boy to have
turned himself into a vulture and back again. Rumors of ritual murders spread in Lagos in
the late 1990s after the discovery of a demented street person who killed people and
dismembered their bodies. In South Africa in 1998 hospitals’ organ donation and
transplantation programs were disrupted because of similar fears.
Such cases can be seen to have occurred in socialpsychological contexts of confused
and unrealistic political/economic expectations (see Ciekawy and Geschiere 1999).
Witchcraft and sorcery suspicions and accusations have long been recognized as
associated with economic change, as Ardener (1970) reported for the Bakweri of
Cameroon in the 1960s. Today’s new and often baffling economic forces caused by
multiculturalism and globalization have generated new fears of zombie labor and “occult
economies” (Comaroff and Comaroff 1999, and Sharp 2001). Traditionally, children
were considered pure and innocent and incapable of witchcraft. Brain (1970) reported
fears of childwitches emerging in Bangwa, Cameroon, as early as the 1950s. Today the
social image of children has changed radically, as poverty, AIDS, brutal civil rebellions,
and rapid and massive migrations have created large numbers of child slaves, child
soldiers, homeless urban street children, and increased fears of child-witches (see De
Boeck, in press).
Magic, sorcery, and witchcraft beliefs persist in modern Africa, as they do in many
other developing areas of the world for a variety of apparent reasons. Selective and
incomplete education is only part of the answer. Magical thinking is reduced, but not
eradicated, through modern science and technology. Sorcery and withcraft beliefs were
integral to traditional African cultures, as were remedies for them. Foreign agents
attempted to change only parts of African cultures; the rest were left intact, through
indifference or ignorance. The policies of European colonial governments involved either
dismissal as superstition, or repression sanctioned by the same sorts of antisorcery laws
that existed in their home countries. Christianity’s attitude was unequivocal
condemnation; it offered no sympathy toward nor accommodation for sorcery and
witchcraft beliefs. It should be noted that Christianity did not replace traditional beliefs;
rather, it supplemented them. For converts, most traditional beliefs remained intact. And
in African thinking, nothing is random or fortuitous, everything has a reason for
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happening. For both traditional and modern systems, sorcery and witchcraft answer
questions that cannot otherwise be answered: e.g., “Why me?” and “Why just then?”
While it is recognized that sorcery and witchcraft are social problems activated by the
negative emotions that inevitably arise in situations of social stress, their persistence in
modern times is better understood.
References
Ardener, Edwin. 1970. Witchcraft, Economics, and the Continuity of Belief. In Witchcraft
Confessions and Accusations, ed. Mary Douglas. London: Tavistock.
Brain, Robert. 1970. Child-witches. In Witchcraft Confessions and Accusations, ed. Mary Douglas.
London: Tavistock.
Ciekawy, Diane, and Peter Geschiere, eds. 1998. Containing Witchcraft: Conflicting Scenarios in
Postcolonial Africa. African Studies Review 41, no. 3.
Comaroff, Jean and John L.Comaroff. 1999. Occult Economics and the Violence of Abstraction:
Notes from the South African Postcolony. American Ethnologist 26, 2:279–303.
De Boeck, Filip. In press. The Second World: Children and Witchcraft in D.R.Congo. In Makers
and Breakers: Children and Youth as Emerging Categories in Postcolonial Africa, eds. A
Honwana and F.De Boeck. London: James Currey.
Evans-Pritchard, E.E. 1937. Witchcraft, Oracles, and Magic among the Azande. Oxford: Clarendon
Press.
Krige, J.D. 1947. The Social Function of Witchcraft. Theorisa 1:3–21.
Mair, Lucy. 1969. Witchcraft. New York: McGraw-Hill.
Marwick, Max, ed. 1982. Witchcraft and Sorcery: Selected Readings. 2nd ed. Harmondsworth,
England: Penguin Books.
Mbiti, John S. 1989. African Religions and Philosophy. 2nd. ed. Oxford: Heinemann.
Middleton, John F.M., and E.H.Winter, eds. 1963. Witchcraft and Sorcery in East Africa. London:
Routledge and Kegan Paul.
Morton-Williams, Peter. 1956. The Atinga Cult among the Southwestern Yoruba: A Sociological
Analysis of a Witch-Finding Movement. Bulletin IFAN 18:3–4, 315–34.
Richards, Audrey. 1935. A Modern Movement of Witch-Finders. Africa 8, no. 4.448–61.
Turner, Victor. 1967. The Forest of Symbols: Aspects of Ndembu Ritual. Ithaca: Cornell University
Press.
Sharp, Lesley A. 2001. Wayward Pastoral Ghosts and Regional Xenophobia in a Northern
Madagascar Town. Africa 71, 1:38–81.
Stevens, Philips, Jr. 1988. Table Tennis and Sorcery in West Africa. Play and Culture 1, no. 2:138–
45.
——. 1996. “Magic” and “Sorcery and Witchcraft.” Encyclopedia of Cultural Anthropology, ed. by
David Levinson and Melvin Ember. New York: Holt.
Wilson, Monica Hunter. 1951. Witch Beliefs and Social Structure. American Journal of Sociology
56:307–13.
Willis, R.G. 1968. Kamcape: An Anti-Sorcery Movement in Southwestern Tanzania. Africa 38:1–
15.
PHILLIPS STEVENS JR.
See also Ancestors; Divination; Evil Eye; Gender Representation in African
Folklore; Gossip and Rumor
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WOMEN’S EXPRESSIVE CULTURE IN
AFRICA
An African person belongs to different types of groupings, each of which gives the
individual a particular identity. The most important of these is the family or lineage,
which imparts an identity that lasts long after death and is carried in praise poems, dirges,
genealogical songs, and epics. The second category that an African person is classified by
is gender. Many activities in the social and working lives of traditional African persons
are undertaken exclusively by males or females, either as individuals or in groups. These
groups may be permanent or may come together only for a particular purpose and then
dissolve. Naturally, such activities and organizations have developed a rich array of
particular expressive cultures. This entry sweeps through a wide panorama of expressive
culture associated specifically with Africa women’s groups, activities, and perceptions of
life.
The individual woman may compose a poem in praise of herself as Tonga (Zambia)
women do with the Impango. She could also be a solo artist, such as a female Ijala singer
among the Yoruba, who might be seen undertaking ritual begging of alms with her
toothless python around her neck. Several types of dyads of women may be found based
on the bonds of friendship occupation and kinship. The sharing of axioms among friends
based on shared experiences with either the full phrase repeated or a call-and-response
format may be cited. Other characteristic traditions include the wearing of identical attire:
women affiliated by such as kinship or politics can be identified by their use of the same
cloth.
Women have been recognized as custodians of oral traditions and fictional narratives.
In Ghana, the Asantehemaa, or queen mother of Asante, has a court of her own and is
consulted on historical facts crucial for the conduct of matters of state. The concept of
“old lady” as the wise one to be consulted when matters get complicated is a pervasive
one in many African cultures. Women, particularly elderly women, are also credited with
the talent for telling folktales of various types. Thus some cultures, such as the Fulani of
northern Cameroon, seem to relegate storytelling to a lower status than the cycle of epics,
for example, performed by men. In other cultures, such as the Bulsa of northern Ghana,
there are narrative forms that are marked by the nonparticipation of male adults.
Women performers of the folktale have, however, been recognized in scholarship. One
of the most famous of these is Mrs. Zenani, a highly gifted Xhosa story teller from South
Africa, whose prowess has been brought to the fore by Harold Scheub (1975). There is no
denying that the conceptions of woman as nurturer and first teacher are confirmed by her
association with this art form, which captures morality, fantasy, wit, and creative
communication.
Activities concerning major life transitions of birth, puberty, marriage, and death are
in many parts of Africa the prerogative of women. These are undergoing rapid
transformation and are becoming modified, sometimes radically. However, in the conduct
of ceremonies, women have developed the verbal and symbolic discourse that defines the
nature of these ceremonies. This may go from the ululation at the birth of a child to the
conduct of puberty schools, such as those managed by the Sande association in Sierra
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Leone. Throughout North Africa and among Akan-speakers in Ghana, women engage in
the dramatic negotiation of marriage contracts. The Gas of Ghana have developed
professional spokespersons who have impressive oratorical skills and a repertoire of
songs and jokes. They may be hired to lead a family in these negotiations. Other wellknown instances of women’s vocal skills are those of the preparation of the dead for
burial and the public mourning of the death particularly through the funeral dirges which
in most African societies are the exclusive prerogative of women.
During festivals, women may act as jesters and may even wear male clothing and
overtly take strong public roles, as has been seen above.
Certain occupations predominantly undertaken by women generate poetry. Pounding
and grinding songs and chants are composed and sung to reduce the drudgery of the
occupation. Some of these may accompany such solitary work as grinding in the Kamba
and Basotho societies of southern Africa. Pounding songs, however, are of a different
type, for these have to be done to the complex rhythm of the pounding and involve at
least two women. These are found in many parts of the continent, particularly where
processing of grain is undertaken by pounding. Throughout West Africa in every village
and city one hears women accompanying themselves with song as they pound yams or
cassavas in huge wooden mortars.
The folklore associated with occupations is not only verbal. For example, women have
the responsibility of finishing, repairing, and decorating the walls of houses. The
traditional communities of the Frafra of Ghana and the Basotho of South Africa may be
cited as societies where an aesthetic canon of symbols and decorative patterns applied to
house and compound walls has been developed.
One interesting type of occupational folklore is the duplication of formal governance
systems from the political system of the traditional state to the guild. One of these is the
position of chief. Thus the leader of tomato sellers in a given Akan market would be
called Tomatoes-hemma. These associations also have the position of spokesperson or
Okyeame. They often manifest their pride in their vocation at funerals where they arrive
in an official delegation and often enact aspects of the work-life they shared with their
fallen colleague.
Certain groupings of women may be said to be based on religions or parareligious
imperatives. The Mende of Sierra Leone come in for mention once again as Sande is an
esoteric grouping of women conveying the female essence. Others may involve the cult
of female gods. One of the most famous is surely the cult of the Osun River goddess of
the Yoruba pantheon in Nigeria who represents the essence and power of femininity and,
therefore, has generated a paradigm of femaleness in all aspects of the conduct of
activities related to this cult. It is important to draw attention to a large corpus of praise
poetry especially dedicated to the goddess and what she represents, which forms an
important classic of the Yoruba literary cannon.
Women have characteristic modes of expression, which take on particularly interesting
dimensions because of their relative restriction to the domestic and emotional spheres of
life. The culture of self-adornment is a vastly intriguing area, which involves the
sculpturing of the body by the massage of the head and buttocks as among the Asante as
well as scarification and application of intricate patterns through tattooing as found in
southern Nigeria. Muslim communities in many parts of the continent, particularly the
Sahelian and North African areas, tattoo the hands and feet of brides. More temporary but
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equally intriguing is body painting effected with natural substances such as various hues
of clay and chalk often undertaken for ceremonial purposes or as a makeup for
performance. The Surma and Karo women of Ethiopia are well-known for such
decoration. Women Klama priests of the Dangbe area of southeastern Ghana as well as
graduates from the puberty school known as Dipo from the same area also display fine
examples of this form of body art.
The making and wearing of jewelery also constitute an area replete with creativity,
symbolism, and dynamic tradition. The legendary bead cultures of Maasai and Zulu
women turn out shoulder-length necklaces covering the neck and part of the shoulders. In
the Zulu tradition, distinctive bead aprons are made as well as bead “letters,” whose
colors send messages to lovers. Beads form a part of the earliest traditions of selfadornment by Ghanaian women from various ethnic groups. As with many other African
women, beads are worn around the neck, wrist, waist, forearms, knees, and ankles. They
may be as large as a small hen’s egg or just large enough to string, and may be made out
of materials ranging from stone to glass and plastic. A saying in Akan goes,
“Sophisticated beads do not jingle.”
One manifestation of the embodiment of the culture of women’s self-adornment is the
institution of Neggafa, or beautician, in Morocco. These accomplished artists embellish
the Moroccan woman’s life at all stages, in both body and soul. One of the most vivid
presentations of this exclusively female institution is the film Pour le plaisir des yeux
written and directed by Morrocan filmmaker Izza Genini.
Groups of women often wear the same cloth sewn into several identical outfits for
group identification and assertion. Clothes may be named according to axioms, topical
events and names of (in)famous persons in many parts of West Africa. The famous East
African Kanga cloths are named in Swahili and often have axioms written on them. They
are frequently used in situations of polygyny by Swahili women to conduct quarrels. In
Ghana, designs of wax prints typically worn by women are often named in Twi based on
the same themes and sources mentioned above. For example, “If marriage was like
peanuts in a pod, I would have cracked it.” Cloths can be worn to express the emotional
condition or social status of the individual.
This symbolism becomes very interesting when deployed antagonistically in actual or
potential conflicts between affinal relations. It is not only the design of the fabric, but the
manner of wearing that conveys the message. For example, a headtie worn in a specific
way means, “Gyae me how” (Stop bothering me). The manner of tying the cloth may also
have a meaning. For example, a cloth worn with the free edge behind the body denotes
that “There is a fool walking behind me.” Women may use items or clothing as
significant props for performance or as part of ceremonial acts. This includes the
presence or absence of clothing as well as the process of dressing or undressing. For
example, in hailing persons whom they value highly for family or political reasons,
women from all ethnic groups in Ghana will take off the second cloth which is part of the
attire of a mature woman, and either fan a procession or lay it down for persons in a
procession to walk on. This act is often accompanied by priase and histrionics. Such an
act may take place during a traditional festival with the arrival of a chief, or during a
wedding ceremony, for example.
On the other hand, a woman in mourning may throw off her headtie and attempt to
take off other items of clothing while wailing for the dead. In addition to this, a historical
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rite that is rarely evoked today is the historical Mmomome rites of the Akan. Women
awaiting the return of men from the battlefield used to parade through the streets naked
and singing songs to invoke victory in battle. These are only performed in dire
circumstances. The Litolobonya performance session of Basotho women excludes men.
Women taking part in this ceremony, which celebrates the birth of a child, are scantily
dressed and dance till morning, making movements suggestive of sexual relations.
There is an entire area of women’s knowledge and culture that is restricted by its
nature. This may appear as the sub-text in the process of preparation for marriage. Or it
may, form the overt content of quarrels, and exclusive sessions for women’s recreation.
Young Hausa brides, for example, are taught how to use douches and aphrodisiac
preparations by trusted aunts. During women-only recreational performances by women
they openly express their basic difficulties with relationships and express the frustration,
stress, and joy of their private existence in the domestic domain, thus offering an
alternative discourse to the public paradigm, which is controlled mostly by men. Somali
women restricted from addressing their husbands directly may compose songs about a
difficulty in their relationships, which they will sing in the presence of their husbands,
expecting modified behavior in response.
None of this is to suggest that popular woman artists are not to be found in Africa. As
the famous bardic tradition of Sahelian West Africa undergoes a transformation today,
women stars who specialize in shorter lyrical pieces have emerged. The Jelimousow of
Mali have increased in popularity and have taken their place among the great griots of the
region.
Hausa women singers have an ambivalent position, due to a tendency to link
classicism with Islamic written verse, while orally transmitted song are seen as a lesser,
popular, and ephemeral art. The royal courts of northern Nigeria often have a woman
poet, or Marokia Zabiya. Some Zabiya have gained great respectability and become
independent popular stars, such as Maimuna Coge.
As may be seen from this brief survey, the rich variety of women’s activities has
generated, and continues to generate, a deep and multifaceted expressive culture.
References
Badejo, D. 1996. Osun Segesi: The Elegant Deity of Wealth and Femininity. Trenton, N.J.: African
World Press.
Finnegan, R. 1970. Oral Literature in Africa. London: Oxford University Press.
Finnegan, R. 1970. Oral Poetry. Its Name, Significance, and Social Context. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press.
Furniss, G., and L.Gunner, eds. 1995. Marginality and African Oral Literature. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press.
Moitse, S. 1994. The Ethnomusicology of the Basotho. Rome: ISAS.
Nketia, K. 1955. Funeral Dirges of the Akan People.
Scheub, H. 1975. The Xhosa Ntsomi. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
ESI SUTHERLAND-ADDY
See also Gender Representation in African Folklore; Performance in Africa
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WOMEN’S FOLKLORE: ERITREA
Eritrean women comprise approximately 50 percent of the total population. Before
independence, the society was quite different from what it is now economically,
politically and socioculturally. These changes started to appear before independence in
1991, as the area liberated during the war was already changing in many ways, due to the
inability of the enemy to interfere in these areas. The status of women and their rights in
the society was a prominent change. The main reason for this is that the Eritrean women
fought alongside the men for independence.
Before independence, Eritrean women were victims of cultural and colonial
oppression. The Italian, the British and Ethiopian colonial powers deprived them of their
rights in their own country. The only option offered to women was to serve the colonizers
as housemaids. The native patriarchal system of Eritrea also deprived them of equal
rights with men in political, social, cultural and economic life. Women could not receive
inheritances in a fashion equal to men, nor were they allowed to participate equally in
political affairs. They were considered socially and culturally inferior to men.
Today in post-independence Eritrea, women participate in many areas of society once
reserved exclusively for men. Eritrean women have made significant accomplishments
through their participation in the independence war, yet, equality with men at all levels of
the society calls for a continuous fight against oppressive institutions, such as arranged
and underage marriages and female genital operations.
Eritrean folklore affords an opportunity to examine the lives of Eritrean woman before
independence was gained, and patriarchal oppression was eased. Girls were not allowed
to choose their mate; parents arranged marriages. Women’s frustration at this state of
affairs is reflected in the songs girls traditionally sang when they saw off a friend after
her wedding day, as she moved to her husband’s house. One such song contains the
lyrics:
My friends are we like this?
Why do they give us away?
Like a goat’s baby,
Which is dragged away.
Another song, also sung by the bride’s friends, advise her to be wise and observant of
what the in-laws, might do to her:
Go with them,
But smile while at the same time
Observing what they do to you.
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1038
Women taking part in a ritual of
transition from summer to winter,
praying for a good rainy reason and a
good harvest in the coming season.
Photo © Senait Bahta.
Women learning to read and write, as
part of the policy to eliminate illiteracy
by 2004.
Photo © Senait Bahta.
These songs were sung by young women between the ages of fifteen and seventeen, who
were aware that their fate would also be that of the bride given over in a marriage
arranged by her parents. The songs symbolize women’s opposition to cultural tradition.
Interestingly, now that the law prohibits child betrothal, underage marriage, female
genital mutilation, and other institutions that serve to keep women inferior, contemporary
songs now reflect how women have become equal with men and participate in all spheres
of society. The young women sing to herald that it is high time for women to say
goodbye to the kitchen, previously the females’ domain, and to be full participants in
national activities with males. One song goes:
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Goodbye kitchen,
I have broken your prison,
To see the world
I am now in shorts
Fighting on my brothers side
For independence and equal rights.
It was not until 1979 that Eritrean women were organized at a national level. Before then,
the colonial governments would not allow them to organize politically. However, there
are stories that tell that Eritrean women, although not organized, were fighting against
oppression in various ways.
Eritrean folklore holds that, during the Italian colonial period, women used to spray
hot pepper powder in the fascists’ eyes when they attempted to rape the women. Others
defended themselves with sharp metal needles called mesfe, which they used for making
baskets. Eritrean women have a history of forming new villages in an attempt to escape
wife beating.
One interesting tale is that of Shuma, a woman from Barka in western Eritrea from the
Beja ethnic group. Shuma had a cruel abusive husband whom she loathed. To escape
from him, Shuma left home, taking her sister with her to the eastern lowlands of Eritrea.
While living there, a wealthy man met, fell in love with, and married her. He took her
with him to his village and provided for her sister, as well. Descendants of Shuma now
live in that village, which is called Adi Shuma (the village/home of Shuma).
Another story about the role of Eritrean women in settling disputes or conflicts
between people centers on Asmara, the capital city of Eritrea. According to one source, in
the past, the place now called Asmara was covered with dense forest, where four villages
were located. It was a dangerous place to live and the villagers suffered, since they were
ambushed by bandits who took their property, killed men walking home from work, and
kidnapped children. Although night guards were placed in each of the villages, this did
not solve the problem. One day, the women from these four villages met in a church to
discuss the problem. They agreed to ask their husbands to unite the small villages, thus
creating a safe, defendable home for all. The women also decided that if the men will not
comply with their request, they would not prepare food for them when they came home
from work. The men in the village agreed to the women’s request; the four villages were
combined and named Asmara, which comes from the Tigrina word for unity.
References
Bahta, S. 2002. The Impact of Modern Warfare on Rural Communities and the Environment in
Eritrea. PH. D. dissertation, unpublished.
Connel, D. 1999. Strategies for Change: Women and Politics in Eritrea and South Africa. Reviews
of African Political Economy 76: 189–206.
Nadel, S.F. 1944. Races and Tribes of Eritrea. British Military Administration. Asmara, Eritrea.
Wilson, A. 1991. The Challenge Road: Women and the Eritrean Revolution. London: Earthscan.
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Yosief, I. 1993. Zanta ketema Asmera. Addis Ababa, Ethiopia: Negdi Printing Press.
SENAIT BAHTA
See also Gender Representations; Songs for ceremonies; Songs of the Dyula;
Women’s Expressive Culture
WOMEN’S FOLKLORE: GHANA
Ghana is estimated to have forty-four languages and the women of each of these diverse
linguistic groups have their own folklore forms. Consequently, a comprehensive survey
of women’s folklore is a difficult task. What follows is only a sketch of some of the
genres that have been documented.
Many of the artistic verbal expressions of Ghanaian women are associated with
transition rites, a reflection of their traditional role as child-bearers and caregivers. In
many communities, birth, puberty, and marriage provide occasion for women to rejoice.
For example, bragoro “puberty rites” of the Akan (Sarpong 1977), dipo of the Krobo,
otufo of the Ga (Lartey 1971), gbotoha of the northern Ewe (Asamoah 1967), narika yiila
of the Bulsa, all combine music, song, and dance. In these areas of Ghana, these
multifunctional rites are still crucial in social control and in the education of young
women. Also, during marriage ceremonies among the Ga, two women representing the
bride’s and the bridegroom’s parties, engage in an artistic, innocuous verbal dueling.
Although one eloquently applauds the bride’s fine upbringing, parentage, beauty, and,
nowadays, formal school education, the other expresses the man’s attributes in matching
poetic language.
Another major women’s folklore form related to the life cycle is the funeral dirge.
Nsui among the Akan (Nketia 1955) and aviha or kpetavi of the northern Ewe (Asamoah
1967) provide the women the opportunity to praise and express gratitude to departed
relatives and loved ones as well as lament their own misfortunes such as barrenness,
childlessness, loss of benefactor, illness, destitution, maltreatment in marriage. While it
might seem that the dirge is a genre of the oppressed and the marginalized, Akan women
use it as a powerful weapon against the uncharitable, self-seeking, and the vain by
refusing to perform at their funeral, or by singing uncomplimentary lyrics that condemn
their behavior. In this manner, women chastise the living and inculcate socially approved
values into the young ones.
In spite of the burdensome responsibilities that their multiple roles as wives, mothers,
caregivers, farmers, traders, and more place on them, Ghanaian women still find time for
leisure. Consequently, there are a variety of social musical forms that are composed and
performed exclusively or predominantly from. For example, nnwonkoro found in some
Akan communities (Nketia 1963; Anyidoho 1994, 1995); ayabomo or “maiden songs”
performed by Nzema women (Agovi, 1989) are recreational musical types. Women use
these avenues to express joy, romance, sorrow, pain, praise, and thanksgiving as well as
protest, warning, insinuation, and abuse. The label recreational is clearly a misnomer
because it belies the serious nature of these activities; as they entertain themselves,
women express their views on important social, cultural, and political issues.
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There are other female verbal art forms that are not subsumed by the rubrics of “life
cycle” and the “recreational.” For example, through tuima and nanzak yiila, or “work
songs” performed by Bulsa women while planting, harvesting, decorating walls, or
milling corn, they communicate indirectly to their husbands, cowives and difficult inlaws about various problems. Also, mmobomme songs provide interesting insights into
the role Akan women played in such crisis (Kwakwa 1994). On the contrary, ose or the
“song of jubilation/victory” are still performed on joyous occasions such as when a chief
is installed, when a member of the community wins a major court case, or when someone
is rescued from a perilous situation. Furthermore, in Abibidwom (African music) women
use biblical texts in songs performed recitatively in the call-and-response style in
Christian worship. This relatively new form is an example of the many syncretic folklore
forms attributable to external contact.
It should be noted that almost all the verbal activities and genres discussed in the
preceding paragraphs are performed by groups of women, indicating their cooperative
and supportive roles rather than competition.
Some of the areas where nonverbal artistic expressions of women are located include
the textile (Nelson 1978), pottery, and bead making (Kumekpor 1995) industries. For
example, the retailing of African wax prints (cherished by Ghanaian women) is
dominated by females, who also name new textile designs. Often, the names are proverbs
and pithy statements that comment on certain social, cultural, political, or religious
situations, and women buy these designs because of the messages they convey.
Consequently, a woman may choose to wear a particular design on a certain occasion in
order to communicate in silence to her spouse, lover, cowives, enemy or society. Also,
the styles that women wear speak eloquently to the knowledgeable in those matters.
Within the broad definition of folklore, other areas controlled by Ghanaian women
include tie-dyeing, batik making, hair braiding and plaiting, hair design, body painting,
engraving on calabashes, wall designing, mat making, cotton spinning, and funerary
terra-cotta making (Freedman 1979). Although some of these artifacts are used for
adornment and utilitarian purposes, others serve social, religious and magical functions.
References
Agovi, Kofi E. 1989. Sharing Creativity: Oral and Literary Linkages. The Literary Grist 1, no. 2:1–
43.
Aning, Ben A. 1964. Adenkum: a Study of Akan Female Bands. Legon: Institute of African
Studies, University of Ghana, Unpublished Essay.
Anyidoho, Akosua. 1994. Tradition and Innovation in Nnwonkoro, An/Akan Female Verbal Genre.
Research in African Literature 25, no. 3:142–59.
——. 1995. Stylistic Features of Nnwonkoro: An Akan Female verbal Genre. Text: An
Interdisciplinary Journal for the Study of Discourse 15, no. 2:317–36.
Asamoah, Festus. 1967. Mourning Songs of Northern Eweland: a Study of the music of northern
Ewe women. Legon: Institute of African Studies, University of Ghana, Legon. Unpublished
essay.
Freedman, Gladys. 1979. Women as Artists and Artisans in West Africa: Special Reference to the
Akan. Ph. D. dissertation, Union Graduate School, Center for Minority Studies.
Kumekpor, Maxine I., Yaw Bredwa-Mensah, and J.E.J.M.van Landewijk. 1995. Ghanaian Dead
Tradition. Ghana Bead Society.
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1042
Kwakwa, Patience Abena. 1994. Dance and African Women. Sage 8, no. 2:10–15.
Lartey, Francis. 1971. Otufo: a Study of Music and Dance of the Ga-Mashie (Accra) Puberty Rite.
Legon: Institute of African Studies, University of Ghana. Unpublished essay.
Nketia, J.H.K. 1955. Funeral Dirges of the Akan People. New York: Negro University Press.
——. (1963). Folk Songs of Ghana. Legon: University of Ghana Press.
Nelson, Joanna Alfretina. 1978. The Philosophy and Psychology behind the Naming of Textiles in
Ghana. Kumasi: University of Science and Technology. Unpublished essay.
Sarpong, Peter. 1977. Girl’s Nubility Rites in Ashanti. Tema: Ghana Publishing Corporation.
AKOSUA ANYIDOHO
See also Dirges; Gender Representation in African Folklore; Queen Mothers;
Textile Arts and Communication
WOMEN POP SINGERS AND
BROADCAST MEDIA IN MALI
In Africa, musical and oral performances have long been a favorite medium for women’s
verbal expression. Singing seems to be a particularly way for women to express popular
feelings or wishes that they cannot express publicly, such as subtle criticism, the longing
for a friend, and despair (Diawara 1990; cf. Wright 1993). Songs, proverbs, stories, and
folktales are a favorite medium for women when they want to entertain themselves and
others during social events.
In Mali, the central role of women in the oral and musical arts has led to a recent and
remarkable development. Women have become pop stars of national, sometimes even
international acclaim, as a result of the increased availability of radio (since 1957),
audiocassettes, television, and music videos (since the 1980s). One important reason for
the stunning success of women singers in the media market is that the new technologies
of visualization accompanying aural recording move the voice quality and visible
dimensions of women’s performance to the foreground. Electronic media has triggered a
significant shift in the conventions, contents, and economics of musical performances.
National television, especially, provides a new platform for the conspicuous display of
prestige and power by wealthy and influential individuals for a nationwide audience of
consumers.
Almost all of the Malian pop stars come from the southern triangle of Mali, the
heartland of the Mande people who speak two closely related languages, Bamanankan
and Maninkakan. It is the musical repertoire, languages, and historical traditions of their
home communities that the women pop stars draw upon in their performances. Over the
past fifteen years, these women singers have become the pop icons of a national Malian
culture, because television offers them a stage on which to present their regional musical
styles as a “national” Malian music to national and international audiences.
This dominance of southern languages and traditions in the national Malian arena goes
back to the colonial period, when peoples from the south were more easily integrated into
colonial administration and the schooling system. The unequal representation of Malian
local cultures has been supported by the fact that for more than twenty years,
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international popular press and scholarly publications focused on musicians from the
south and their musical traditions (Ali Farka Touré and Boubakar Traoré being two
notable exceptions). Approximately 80 percent of the audience that attends pop concerts
and watches music videos are woman. The fans of the pop stars clearly distinguish
between the singers according to their singing skills, their costumes, demeanors, and their
knowledge of different local musical styles, songs, and historical traditions.
Most of the pop singers are from families of professional musicians and orators. The
Bamana and Maninka in southern Mali call these orators jeliw and Jaliw (singular
jeli/jali) respectively and consider them a special category of people distinct from “freeborn” people (singular hòròn) and descendants of serfs (singular jon). Until French
colonial occupation of the area in the nineteenth century, jeli families lived together with
the most wealthy and powerful “free born” families of a rural community and passed
down their patron family’s traditions and histories in exchange for material support. On
festive events that were of importance to the entire local community, jeli women were
expected to praise their patron family’s prestigious genealogy and heroic origins, and
thus to enhance its reputation. Patron families compensated their jeli women’s musical
performances by giving them occasional gifts in the form of grain, cattle, and captives.
To heighten the public renown of their patron families through musical performances and
historical recitations was only one the jeliw’s tasks. Other important functions were the
resolution of conflicts and the restoring of social order and harmony to the local
community. In compensation, wealthy patron families provided food and shelter for their
jeli clients.
Over the past eighty years, these former affiliations between jeliw and their free-born
patron families have been increasingly eroded as a consequence of altered sociopolitical
hierarchies under colonial rule and the introduction of money as general mode of
payment. As the social and political context changed within which jeli women performed
their songs, the significance, contents and conventions of their performances were also
transformed.
These changes are most apparent in urban areas, where jeliw can no longer call upon a
patron to provide food and housing. People who are born into a jeli family pursue various
kinds of income-generating activities. They teach, work in the state administration or
have other jobs in the formal sector of the economy. Others live from occasional conflict
resolutions or musical performances on behalf of various “patrons.” Those who are
solicited to intervene in conflicts or negotiations, or to sing a patron’s praise, are
generally paid in money (Schulz 1999). In remote rural settings of contemporary Mali,
jeli families continue to live with and work for their patron families, but they depend less
on their patrons’ material support than before. Like their patrons, jeliw own land and are
primarily agriculturalists. Jeli women sing for their patrons at family events and on other
occasions of public importance and they receive gifts from their patrons in form of grain,
cattle, or money.
Cultural conventions assign different oral and musical performance genres to men and
women, but this division is not absolute (Duran 1995, 2001). The instruments on which
men accompany women’s songs or their own recitations very from region to region: the
kora (a twenty-one-string harp-lute), the n’goní (a three to five string guitar), the bala
(xylophone), or various kinds of drums. Women only play the karanyan, a slit iron tube
on which they play the rhythm with a stick. Men generally recite epics and family
African folklore
1044
genealogies and recount the deeds of historical personalities, legendary heroes, and other
historical events that are relevant to the identity of the family and its clan name. Songs, in
contrast, are the favorite genre of jeli women. People distinguish between different kinds
of songs according to their function and the occasion of their performance. Women’s
songs cover a broad range of topics, and all girls and women may sing them, for
themselves or in groups, during their work or leisure time. But only women of jeli origin
should perform them on events of public importance.
In private settings, any woman may express in her songs, albeit in a subtle and indirect
fashion, her dissenting views, feelings and wishes that should not be spoken of publicly.
Other songs recount the stories of women or men who have excelled by outstanding
deeds or attitudes. These songs, highly appreciated because of their educational value, are
referred to as songs that “give a moral lesson” (ladili). In private settings, members of a
free-born family may call upon a jeli woman whom they like and trust to come and
“make the time pass more easily” by singing for their friends.
In contrast, the primary function of jeli women’s songs that are performed before a
public audience is to enhance the renown of a patron and to laud his prestigious family
name or particular accomplishments (fasadali). Praise songs are composed of various
textual elements; praise (fasa), benedictions, proverbs as well as formulaic expressions
and honorific terms that are attributed to particular clan identities. The contents and
musical arrangement of a song are left to the intuition of the artist. Praise songs, too, may
include passages in which an individual may be presented as an example of moral
excellence. Depending on the occasion of the public gathering, a jeli woman will focus
more on moralizing reflections or on praise. On festive occasions, such as weddings and
baptisms, her performance will glorify her host family and remind the audience of the
eminent deeds that her patron accomplished on behalf of the community. As a reward, the
jeli woman can expect a generous gift—in kind or money—from her patron. For a freeborn woman, in contrast, it would be unthinkable to publicly raise her voice in praise of
another person and even less so, to receive a compensation for it.
A jeli woman’s attractiveness and the visual aesthetics of her performance play an
important role in her evaluation by the audience. In contrast to a woman of free birth who
should dress modestly, jeli women dress in a spectacularly extravagant and conspicuous
way and dance with elaborate and sometimes erotically evocative steps, slow and
sustained gestures and body movements. It is thus easier for jeli women to attract the
spectators’ attention than it is for jeli musicians who are simply sitting and recounting a
story or accompanying the singer’s performance.
An important change brought about by the new electronic media is that it enhances the
public nature of women’s musical performances and transforms the patterns of
interaction between audience, singer, and the orchestra. Television and video
technologies support a process of commercialization, in the course of which praise
performances have become a commodity: praise is no longer a client service, but has
become a good that anybody can purchase. Because some wealthy individuals pay large
sums for their public praise, there is a growing number of women who are not of jeli
origin but do earn money by publicly flattering individuals in the jeli praise style (Schulz
1999). Another effect of broadcasting is, therefore, that it has turned public flattery into a
very lucrative occupation, while rendering the social origin of the performance less
important. With the mass mediation of praise songs and songs “that give a moral lesson,”
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the social significance of the songs has also changed. Whereas the songs were performed
at special events in the past, they have now become a background entertainment that
accompanies everyday work and conversations.
Broadcast media seem to provide a new and particularly advantageous medium for
women artists. The multilayered visual and musical performances broadcast on television
bring dimensions to the foreground in which women excel over male artists. Certainly,
some jeli men, historians, and musicians are still venerated emblems of a prestigious
“Malian” past and of authentic traditions and knowledge. But male musicians in general
seem to have lost ground in the popular music market to women. One reason for these
changes might be that video and television allow women to move into the prominent
positions during broadcast performances and to visually display fashion, elegance, and
performance skills. The women performers, with their carefully designed and staged
womanly demeanor, body movements, dresses, accessories, and background scenery,
combine elements of Western consumer culture with emblems of a Malian cultural
authenticity. This authenticity is evoked through visual allusions to the singer’s
geographic location in an idyllic, traditional, rural setting. The pop stars, such as Kandia
Kouyaté, Tata Bambo Kouyaté, and Ami Koita, thus set new standards for women’s
identity constructions, because they fashion images of womanhood that draw on
conventional stereotypes of an ideal women and on emblems of Western consumer
orientation. In this way, women singers, in their visual enactment of new dancing styles
and experimental body movements and postures, become not only trendsetters for new
and daring dresses and demeanor, but also literally embody new consumer orientations
(Schulz 2001).
References
Diawara, M. 1989. Women, Servitude and History: the Oral Historical Traditions of Women of
Servile Condition in the Kingdom of Jaara (Mali) from the Fifteenth to the Mid-Nineteenth
Century. In Discourse and Its Disguises, eds. K. Barber and P.F.de Moraes Farias. Birmingham:
Centre of West African Studies, University of Birmingham.
Duran, L. 1995. Jelimusow: the Superwomen of Mali. In Power, Marginality, and African Oral
Literature, eds. G.Furniss and L. Gunner. Cambridge University Press.
Schulz, D. 1999. Pricey Publicity, Refutable Reputations: Jeliw and the Economics of Honour in
Mali. Paideuma 45:275–292. (Frankfurt)
——. 2001. Music Videos and the Effeminate Vices of Urban Culture in Mali. Africa 71 (3): 345–
372.
Wright, M. 1993. Strategies of Slaves and Women: Life Stories from East/Central Africa. London:
Currey.
DOROTHEA E.SCHULZ
See also Electronic Media; Griots and Griottes; Performance; Women’s
Expressive Culture in Africa
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WORDS AND THE DOGON
With a population currently estimated at 450,000, the Dogon inhabit the mountainous
region of the cliffs of Bandiagara, in the Great Bend of the Niger River in Mali. They
also occupy an important place in the anthropological literature of African peoples,
especially because of the work of Marcel Griaule and his colleagues. In this spectacular
but difficult terrain, these ingenious and hardworking agricultural people have developed
a remarkable civilization as witnessed by the beauty of their architectural constructions,
the wealth of their artistic productions, and the vitality of their rites and ceremonies.
The traditional religion is still vibrant despite the advance of Islam. Dogon religion is
characterized by the belief in a single creator god (the other mythical beings are his
creation) and ancestor cults. Their society is organized as a gerontocracy; the oldest man
of a region is the religious leader and the council of elders runs the affairs of the village.
Filiation is patrilineal and residence is patrilocal.
One of the most original conceptions of Dogon thought is that of the “word” and
speaking, the importance of which in myth and cosmogony was revealed to Marcel
Griaule in 1946 by the old wise man Ogotemmêli. On the basis of his ideas, subsequent
studies have analyzed in greater depth the function of “speaking” as it relates to society
and the person. We now know that we are not dealing with an isolated system of thought
and that similar ideas are also found in many other African societies.
The Origin of the Word
According to the myth, the creator god, Amma, shaped and fertilized by his word a
placenta or “egg of the world” in which he placed the seeds of the first creatures, two
androgynous twins. This placenta would become the Earth. The twins are key characters
of Dogon mythology. One is a figure of a rebel, the Pale Fox (Vulpes pallida), whose
criminal acts (theft of the word and the primordial seeds from Amma; incest with his
mother the Earth) introduce disorder and impurity into the world. The other twin is
Nommo, a perfect being whose sacrifice and resurrection purified the universe. Nommo
descended onto earth in an ark carrying humanity’s first ancestors as well as the fauna
and flora destined to populate the world. He revealed language and civilizing techniques
to man. Nommo represents order, fertility, life; his element is water. His action is
opposed to that of the Fox, who is associated with sterility, aridness, and death.
The first human beings could only express themselves through screams and grunts,
like infants or deaf-mutes. Nommo, in the primordial pond, expectorated threads of
cotton and wove them together using his forked tongue like a shuttle. His word,
incorporated into the interstices of the cloth, was heard by one of the ancestors (the first
totemic priest) whose drum echoed it back and communicated it to the others. The first
word, therefore, was also the first woven strip and the first musical rhythm. Society was
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organized and the ancestors, up to then gatherers, became cultivators and learned how to
build houses.
This myth describes the birth of a human being, who evolves from the fetal state,
where he is like a fish deprived of the word and bathing in the waters of the womb, to that
of the newborn who, through the appropriate rites, receives the word upon his arrival into
the world. This passage also describes the childhood of humanity that begins to organize
itself with rudimentary means and gradually arrives at an evolved technical stage. In this
evolution, the word plays a crucial role, for it is the foundation of social exchanges.
As the work of a thinking creator god, the universe is replete with meaning. Each
parcel of matter contains a message that man must decode by interpreting, for example,
the morphological features or the properties of a plant or an animal. It is the “word of the
world,” an expression we can translate by “symbol,” and that is at the basis of a complex
system of taxonomies and correspondences that express Dogon worldview.
The Word and the Human
The word is born in the human body; where it is “fabricated” from substances that it finds
therein. The four elements, present in the human body as they are in the entire universe,
provide it with life (water), meaning (earth), warmth (fire), and breath (air). The dosage
of these elements, just as in the preparation of food, determines the nature of different
words: too much fire produces words of anger, too much air, inconsistent words. Other
symbolic ingredients come into play in its composition: oil which comes from the blood
and confers charm and beauty upon the word; bile, bitter but purifying; salt; honey, and
so forth. Like the human being, the word also has seeds, representing the vital principles;
its delivery is comparable to germination. A word “without seeds” is empty of meaning
and sterile.
The word as an act begins in the brain through an intellectual process (thought); it is
fabricated in the viscera, through a mechanism akin to a forge: The liver, the seat of
emotions, is a piece of pottery in which the water of the word, warmed by the heart
(hearth), begins to boil; the lungs (bellows) expel the steam thus produced. It is woven at
the level of the larynx and the mouth: the tongue represents the shuttle, the teeth are the
comb through which pass the threads of the chain, and the uvula is the pulley of the loom.
The steam emitted in the depths of the body resounds and, like a strip of cotton, speech
takes on shape, color, design. These concepts shed light on the origin myth of the word.
Once emitted, the word, sonorous matter carried by steam, moves in the air in a
spiraling line and enters into the ear of the listener. It is condensed, becomes liquid again
and irrigates the listener’s body. Depending on the elements composing it, it produces
various effects: a word of fire “burns” and provokes an unpleasant answer; a gentle word,
filled with water and oil, is beneficial, and so on.
The character of an individual is judged by the timber of his voice, even before one
hears what he had to say. A sharp and strident feminine voice repels the suitors, for it
betrays a quarrelsome temperament. The nose being the seat of vital breath, any word
charged with nasal resonance evokes the last breath and the word of the dead, carried by
the wind, wandering, aimless, and without answer. From a certain point of view, it can be
said that, for the Dogon, death is characterized by the absence of words and speaking.
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The dead no longer communicate with the living, except when, through rituals (such as
sacrifices or libations), the latter give them back a little humidity, therefore, words and
life.
The Word in Social Life
Any word requires an answer; an elementary aspect of social life is dialogue. The
soliloquy is a sign of madness and provokes uneasiness. The absence of an answer to a
question, call, or salutation is a serious insult.
This dialogue upon which social life rests takes on special importance in the amorous
exchanges between men and women. Sexual relations in themselves are a kind of
“speech.” The fertility of the couple (and thus the continuation of the group) depends
upon a successful relationship. Woman is fertilized by the word of man but only when
their exchanges are harmonious; jokes and gentle irony, which relieve tensions and
conflicts, are the best kind of speech acts. However, according to a widespread notion,
women’s words are replete with ambivalence. At times, they are “good”—gentle,
maternal, musical—at other times, they are “bad”—quarrelsome, jealous, generating
conflicts and threatening social equilibrium. The ornaments a girl receives in early
childhood (specifically, ear, nose, and lower lip rings) are intended to prevent her from
listening to and uttering “bad words.”
Verbal exchanges are the object of precautions, for quarrels destroy the social order
and the harmony of the universe. Rules of etiquette, prohibitions, euphemisms, norms
governing the circulation of words between age-groups, and so on facilitate
communication. The use of individual names, bearers of the spiritual principles of the
person, is regulated. The correct exchange of salutations promotes communication,
punctuates the flow of time, and helps it proceed in the proper direction. Mockery, insult,
normally the cause of quarrels, can play a cathartic role when they are used in the
institutional framework of a “joking relationship.” Rites of purification are performed to
repair “bad words” when conflict could not be avoided.
Aesthetics of the Word
The Dogon make a distinction between “ordinary words” (common communication) and
“beautiful words,” which betray an aesthetic choice and which contain more “oil,” the
component that confers charm and beauty upon them. It is especially in the verbal arts
that stylistic techniques are used to produce “beautiful words.”
A generic term covers all the prose stories presenting a fictional aspect, including
those comprising parts. Mythic tales are not part of these stories, for they are the object of
belief and are thus considered as “true”; they are called “ancient words.” This term is also
applied to the historical, legendary tales concerning the ancestors, the foundation of
villages, and so on.
The stylistic aspect of narrative prose concerns the lexicon (the choice of expressive
terms, ideophones, the frequency of imagery, and the nuances of action) but also the
structure of the sentence, the linkages, the liveliness of the dialogues, the play of
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intonations, and the art of gestures. The good storyteller has “a mouth as sweet as salt.”
He must neither make a mistake nor interrupt himself, for the continuity of the “weaving”
of words is essential in verbal art.
We find among the Dogon, as we do elsewhere, animal, facetious, and marvelous
tales. At one level, these stories give obvious lessons of social ethics; but their deeper
meaning is more complex. Thus do the Dogon associate stories of animals with the great
mythical themes, the struggle of antagonistic characters (for example, the Hare and the
Hyena) represents the cosmic struggle of the principles of order and disorder governing
the universe. Numerous tales deal, in symbolic form, with conflicts manifest in family
relationships (generational conflicts, marriage issues, and incest) or with the initiation
process that transforms the young individual into an adult. The elements (plants, animals,
objects) mentioned in a tale are chosen not randomly but for symbolic reasons in relation
to Dogon worldview. The tales play an important pedagogic role in the transmission of
knowledge and cultural models. Their telling is governed by rules and prohibitions
concerning the time (tales are told only at night), the site (married women tell stories
indoors; young bachelors, outside), and the audience (no storytelling occurs between
parents and children of the opposite sex when the young are nubile). These rules testify to
the symbolic relationship between oral literature and fertility.
Among the poetic genres, reciting the motto or praise name, provokes the exaltation of
the listener’s personality; it brings into play all the stylistic techniques of oral poetry: play
of sounds (assonance, alliteration), terms selected for their symbolic value, rhythmic
structures, flexible syntax and bold constructions, a preference for imagery and enigmatic
form. Many different songs figure in all sorts of circumstances, but musical performance
take on the greatest importance in funeral ceremonies because music is a symbolic
marriage, and the union of male and female rhythms promotes the birth of children who
will replace the dead.
The concept of the “word” among the Dogon is connected to that of “survival” and
“continuity.” It is irreversible and its flow occurs in the direction of time. A vehicle of
tradition, it must be transmitted from one generation to the next like a strip of cloth that
has never been cut. It is a factor of social cohesion and relieves tensions.
If the ability to speak an articulated language endowed with meaning is peculiar to
man and has been conferred upon him by a divine gift, he must show himself deserving
and make good use of it. Mastery of the word, the wise use of effective words or,
conversely, silence, discretion, and a respect for secret are the most valued social
qualities. They constitute a real ethics of the word. The one who masters it proves that he
holds knowledge and that, through divine delegation, he rules over the created world.
References
Calame-Griaule, Geneviève. 1965. Ethnologic et Langage, La Parole chez les Dogon. Paris,
Gallimard, Rééd. 1987. Paris, Institut d’Ethnologie. English translation by Deirdre La Pin, 1986.
Words and the Dogon World. Philadelphia: Institute for the Study of Human Issues.
——. 1987. Des Cauris au marché: Essais sur des contes africains. Paris: Société des Africanistes.
——ed. 1987. Les Voix de la Parole. Journal des Africanistes 57, nos. 1–2.
——, and Blaise Calame. 1957. Introduction a l’étude de la musique africaine. In La Revue
musicale, “Carnets critiques”. Paris: Richard Masse.
African folklore
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Griaule, Marcel. 1948. Dieu d’eau. Entretiens avec Ogotemmêli. Paris: Editions du Chêne.
Dernière rééd. 1966. Paris, Fayard. English translation, 1965. Conversations with Ogotemmeli,
An Introduction to Dogon religious Ideas. Published for the International African Institute by
Oxford University Press.
——, and Germaine Dieterlen. 1965. Le Renard pâle. Paris: Institut d’Ethnologie. Rééd. 1991.
English translation, 1986. The Pale Fox. Chino Valley, Arizona: Continuum Foundation.
Guédou, Georges. 1985. Xo et gbè. Langage et culture chez les Fon (Bénin). Paris: SELAF (Société
d’Etudes Linguistiques et Anthropologiques de France).
Zahan, Dominique. 1963. La Dialectique du Verbe chez les Bambara. Paris-La Haye: Mouton.
GENEVIÈVE CALAME-GRIAULE
See also Aesthetics; Cosmology; Languages; West African Folklore: Overview
WORK SONGS
The child listens to work songs. The singers are farmers, fishermen,
hunters, herdsmen, porters, camel drivers, soldiers, or coffee sifters.
When brush cutters clear a field for planting rice, musicians entertain and
encourage them by playing small slit drums. An agricultural song
provides rhythm for work in the fields. Porters carrying African chiefs or
Europeans in sedan chairs on long journeys through the bush or forest
walked to the rhythm of their singing. In Equatorial Africa, boatmen and
fishermen sing boat songs and paddling songs. Herd-boys play flutes as
they watch the cattle. In desert areas there is even a song to make the
camels drink. Soldiers sing to set the rhythm for their matching. Hunters
celebrate a successful hunt with singing and dancing…A call-andresponse form is common to many of these songs. A leader starts the song,
the group answers, the leader sings again and is answered by the group,
and so on…. At a gold mine near Johannesburg South Africa, a Bantu
drummer…plays a homemade drum for his fellow gold miners….
(Dietz 1965, 2)
These observations aptly describe the extensive use of song as an accompaniment to
work activities throughout Africa. Such music serves a multitude of functions, including
inspiration, motivation, celebration, coordination, and relaxation. Style and subject matter
varies tremendously throughout the continent and cannot be easily classified, although
the same stylistic commonalties found in all African music do exist. Topics may address
the work being accomplished or may take the laborer’s mind away from tedium by
focusing on another topic entirely. Some work songs impart critical information about
specialized tasks, while others manipulate nonsense syllables in rhythmic and linguistic
play. The one feature African work songs do share is the desire to increase productivity
while minimizing fatigue and discontent.
An understanding of work songs in Africa today must also take into consideration the
dramatic social changes ushered in during the colonial and postcolonial eras. Colonialism
in particular had a dramatic impact on the nature of work (and therefore work songs) all
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over the continent, reorganizing such activities to reflect European-based approaches to
mass labor. For those displaced due to the Atlantic slave trade, labor songs became a
defining feature in the construction of new, diasporic African identities, especially as the
enslavement of Africans was specifically geared toward forced work. Within the
continent, migration in search of work as well as enterprises requiring massive amounts
of manpower (such as mining and plantation style agriculture) brought together people
from disparate backgrounds, often for the first time. The result, coupled with the
introduction of new instrumentation and tuning systems, generated great experimentation
with new styles, many of which grew into regionally popular forms.
African music plays a central role in the facilitation of social action and as such, a
great amount of African music can be considered work music. That is to say, the primary
function of such performance activities is to accomplish the “work” of society (not only
in meeting the basic needs of food, clothing, and shelter, but also in generating and
maintaining group cohesion at the family, clan, and community levels). For the purposes
of this article, discussion will center on three general categories as they relate to labororiented musical expression: music to prepare for work (songs of mobilization), music to
accompany work (songs of labor), and music to assist in relaxation and renewal after
work is completed (music of rejuvenation).
Songs of Mobilization
All over the continent, music, song, and dance are used as a vehicle through which to call
people to work, focus their energies, and prepare them mentally and emotionally for
specific types of labor. Thus, Kikuyu women’s work groups in Kenya (rural work
cooperatives and associations that help women participate in the economy as subsistence
farmers) use song to call participants for work in the fields, moving as a group from
compound to compound before heading off for work with an assembled team.
For the Dinka, cattle keepers living in what is today southern Sudan, sung poetry rich
with oxen metaphors is a common feature of cattle-camps. In the morning, when girls
wake up early to churn their milk for butter, they sing their favorite songs to the rhythm
of their shaking gourds as a prelude to the days’ work.
In situations of conflict and battle, particularly in precolonial Africa (warrior status
being a primary “job” of unmarried young men in a great many societies), mental and
emotional preparation was a critical element of successful engagement. The Maasai and
the Nandi communities of Kenya had a habit of preparing for war before they went out to
actually fight by staging a formal rehearsal. Among the Maasai, warriors created an
imaginary enemy whom they had to fight and defeat in advance, projecting their
intentions in practice before going to the battlefield. Similarly, the Ngoni of Malawi
recognize two specific categories of war songs: imigubo that are performed before battle
and imihubo that are performed upon the warriors’ return.
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A Ba Aka grandmother sings a hunting
song into the rope she is weaving for a
net used in net hunting.
Photo © Hal Noss, www.halnoss.com.
Songs of Labor
Almost all work related activities may be accompanied by music in Africa. Such
performances coordinate energies, pass time for repetitive and/or tedious activities,
increase endurance, and make work more pleasurable. On one end of the economic scale,
a lone Sotho woman in South Africa accompanies her cooking by singing alone about her
absent husband who has gone to work in the mines. She uses the repetitive nature of her
work as a tool through which to explore philosophical themes of love and marriage.
Similarly, young Basoga boys in eastern Uganda sing comical songs as they beat out
rhythms to chase termites (a significant source of protein supplement during key periods
in the growing season) from their underground dwellings.
In more complex forms of organized labor, one finds songs that accompany and
coordinate large groups of people in more formal ways. Such coordination is common in
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farming communities and contemporary industrial settings in which massive labor may
be required. Concrete examples include farming songs of the Limba of Sierra Leone in
which “companies,” each with a designated drummer, coordinate the efforts of seed
scatters and hoers working in groups of fifty or more. Even mundane activities that do not
necessarily require group coordination but place large numbers of people to work on the
same enterprise may use music to stem fatigue and stimulate mental acuity. In Accra,
Ghana postal workers stamping outgoing mail whistle popular tunes in unison and
generate complex polyrhythmic structures as they perform their work.
As with all forms of music, the nature of a community’s economic enterprise also has
an impact on their working music. Farming requires large groups of people and often
employs a call-and-response motif (in which a lead singer initiates song lines collectively
responded to by a group chorus). Cattle keeping, by contrast, involves long hours away
from home in small groups (usually of young men and boys). In these settings, extended
and complex narratives are emphasized to pass the time and take the mind away from the
tedium of work. Individually recited poetry in praise of prized oxen or valor on the
battlefield are more common than group performance and the flute is a favored
instrument, owing to its light weight and small size.
For communities in which food collection and hunting predominated (such groups
being increasingly rare today), work music was collective, but necessitated smaller
groups than farming. Instrumentation was typically minimal owing to a highly mobile
lifestyle, while vocal embellishments were greatly exploited. Hunting songs of the Mbuti
of the Congo, for example, incorporate whistles, yodels, and vocal trills to communicate
to others about animal movements in the thick forest context.
Within any society, there are members that perform special tasks or trades and these
types of work may also have special songs. In some case, as with metalworking, healing,
or other enterprises that build on specialized knowledge and training, work songs may
serve a mnemonic devices to guide apprentices through the proper procedures of their
vocation. The poetic utterances of diviners of the ifá system found among the Yoruba of
Nigeria, for example, provide a framework within which readers of oracles may interpret
the complex mathematical permutations of their divination system.
Songs of Rejuvenation
Work is a tiring activity and requires that the worker rejuvenate his energy daily.
Furthermore, in the African context, fatigue may be perceived not simply as physical, but
also as mental and emotional in nature. Entertainment is a key mechanism through which
renewal is achieved. In the precolonial era, Africans had their own types of entertainment
that took the form of sports, music, and dance, or what can be generally referred to as the
performing arts. Music in African communities played a particularly key entertainment
role. Entertainment is crucial to the worker, as it relaxes his/her muscles not only during
work, but also for the next day’s labor demands. Such rejuvenating activities provide
increased and sustained productivity, especially in long-range enterprises. Thus, one finds
a great wealth of music designed to relax and rejuvenate workers of all types, some of
which is accompanied by dance as a way to ease stress and stimulate the body after a
long day of repetitive tasks. Song content may reflect on the importance of the work
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accomplished, discreetly criticize authority figures (this is especially true of colonial and
postcolonial systems of labor, which differ dramatically from earlier forms of African
work), or nostalgically invoke themes entirely unrelated to work such as love or comedy.
Among the Itesot of eastern Uganda, the thumb piano continues to be a favorite
accompaniment to postwork celebration. The history of the instrument in this community
dates to plantation work undertaken in the early part of the nineteenth century by the
British. Migrating long distances to sugar plantations where they remained encamped for
weeks and sometimes months at a time, Itesot laborers interacted with workers from what
was then the Congo. Through this exchange, the Itesot adopted the thumb piano which
they dubbed a-Kongo or from the Congo, eventually drifting to the current akogo. Akogo
music was used then for relaxation, and especially to accompany the long walking
journey home (which could take several days). Even today, a great deal of akogo music is
performed to a 60 to 80 beat per minute pulse—a standard marching beat that reflects its
roots as migrational accompaniment.
Similarly, early in the 1900s, South African dock workers adapted a rural dance form
called is’catulo (shoe) to develop what has come to be called gumboot dancing. Slapping,
stomping, and adorning their rubber work boots with bottle caps as rattles, this form of
dancing became popular among many labor groups, particularly those in South Africa’s
mining industry. A favorite of Sunday dance team competitions, dance styles borrowed
heavily from diverse regional cultural groups, all which worked in the mines under
extremely challenging conditions all the way through apartheid (many miners migrated
from as far away as Zambia and Zimbabwe). Gumboot dancing is still performed today
and songs are also often accompanied by guitar, illustrating the more cosmopolitan nature
of styles that accompany urban, industrial ventures.
Labor and Work Songs in Colonial and Post-colonial Africa
Africa’s contact with the outside world transformed work both in definition as well as in
place and time. Work was one of the elements that colonial administrations sought to
change and reorganize. Colonial economies sought male labor as opposed to female labor
and changed the place of work for many Africans, stimulating great movements of people
(particularly men) to plantations, mining districts, and urban centers. Africans were
taught, sometimes forced, to work for the market as opposed to laboring locally for
subsistence, subsequently adopting cash crop agriculture and engaging in industrial labor.
In this way, Africans were confronted with new work experiences to which they had to
conform. Changes in the organization of work also affected work songs and stimulated an
accelerated development of new forms and regional styles that have greatly impacted
musical expression around the continent. As workers were often migrants who traveled
great distances, they spent many days and nights together without returning to their
homes, a development that has had far reaching impacts in many areas of contemporary
society.
The emergence of specific guitar styles shared across vast distances in Africa has
largely been traced to mining operations such as those in southern and central Africa.
Such operations attracted individuals from cultural groups that did not typically interact
and the development of new forms of musical expression helped unite them as a
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specialized cultural unit. The Congolese sound (also often called soukous, Lingala,
rumba, or simply la musique moderne) that came to define the contemporary music of
Zaire at independence, emerged as cultural groups from diverse areas interacted and
exchanged ideas in the context of mining enterprises. By the mid-1960s, local variations
on this form could be heard throughout Zaire and on into Uganda, Kenya, and parts of
Tanzania. Today, this style retains a significant influence on the region’s popular musical
development.
In southern Africa, the emergence of township jive, and later mbaqanga music,
resulted from the fusing of local guitar innovations with local clowning traditions and
even martial arts movements gleaned from exposure to foreign films. Such music largely
served a displaced, urban, industrial workforce anxious for a balance of local sounds and
cosmopolitan sensibility. The massive displacement witnessed in South Africa in
particular served as a dramatic catalyst for music that helped solidify emerging group
identities in urban centers.
These and many other contemporary regional forms trace their roots to labor settings,
particularly those first instituted during the colonial period. These new labor patterns
effectively moved work enterprises from a setting in which economic enterprise, local
culture and group identity were intimately linked into more urbanized and cosmopolitan
contexts where new identities were configured through the medium of performance.
Ba Aka women sing songs in the forest
before they hunt.
Photo © Hal Noss, www.halnoss.com.
References
Abimbola, W. 1965. The Odù of Ifá, African Notes [Ibadan] 1, no. 3.
Brakeley, T.C. 1949. Work Song. In Standard Dictionary of Folklore, Mythology, and Legend, ed.
M.Leach. New York.
Brandel, R. 1961. The Music of Central Africa: an Ethnomusicological Study. Former French
Equatorial Africa, the Former Belgian Congo, Ruanda-Urundi, Uganda, Tanganyika. The
Hague.
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Coplan, D. 1996. South Africa: Descriptive Notes. In The JVC/ Smithsonian Folkways Video
Anthology of Music and Dance of Africa, Book 3, eds. Nketia and Greenberg. Washington D.C.:
Victor Company of Japan.
Deng, F.M. 1972. The Dinka of the Sudan (1923). New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston,
Marguerite, 1923.
Dietz, Betty Warner, and Michael Babatunde Olatunji. 1965. Musical Instruments of Africa: Their
Nature, Use, and Place in the Life of Deeply Musical People. New York.
Finnegan, R. 1967. Limba Stories and Story-telling. Oxford: OLAL.
——. 1970. Oral Literature in Africa. Nairobi: Oxford University Press.
Kidney, E. 1921. Native Songs from Nyasaland. African Affairs 20.
Opondo, P. 1996. Kenya: Descriptive Notes. In The JVC/ Smithsonian Folkways Video Anthology
of Music and Dance of Africa, Book 3, eds. Nketia and Greenberg. Washington D.C.: Victor
Company of Japan.
Orlean, S. 2002. The Congo Sound. The New Yorker October 14 and 21.
Read, M. 1937. Songs of the Ngoni People Bantu Studies 11.
Tracey, H.T. 1954. The Social Role of African Music. African Affairs 53.
1958. African Music within its Social Setting. African Music 2, no. 1.
ALFRED ANANGWE
WADE PATTERSON
See also Music; Performance in Africa.
WRITING SYSTEMS
See Nsibidi: An Infigenous Writing System
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Y
YARDS AND GARDENS, AFRICAN
AMERICAN TRADITIONS
In 1969, Eldredge Cleaver stated that slavery had caused African Americans “to hate the
land and to measure their own value according to the number of degrees they were away
from the soil” (Kellert 1984, 219). At the beginning of the twenty-first century, most
African Americans live in cities. However, a significant number of African Americans
live in the rural South—the ancestors of many had managed to acquire some land and
survive the hard times that forced fieldhands and sharecroppers to leave. The older
families that remain, and continue to work small farms or large gardens, espouse agrarian
values that are common to all who work the land. Not surprisingly, home ownership is a
primary goal, and hard work, resourcefulness, and self-reliance are much admired. Many
gardeners grow far more than their family can eat. This is partly because few gardeners
irrigate and have a high tolerance of crop failure, but most express great pleasure in
having produce to give away. The garden is a symbol of commitment to family and
community.
One of the characteristics of African American yards (especially in the South Carolina
Low Country, Alabama’s “Black Belt,” and the Georgia Piedmont) that recalls African
traditions is the importance of maintaining a clean, well-swept area. Until very recently,
most kitchen tasks were done in the “kitchen yard.” In fact, except in foul weather, most
family life was spent outside in the yard or on the porch. The kitchen stove was an open
fire, and the laundry was generally boiled in the same cast-iron pots that were used for
cooking. The kitchen sink was the wellhead. Permanent workstations were set up around
the yard, sited so as to be shaded when the task was normally performed. In many yards,
a tub in which hogs were scaled before being scraped to remove the bristle, a hoist on
which hogs were hung when being scraped, and a cutting table on which they were
butchered are still a common sight. Given that this area was subject to heavy use, and a
fire was often burning, keeping it clean and bare was a matter of practicality and safety.
The practice of sweeping the yard extends to the flower yard as well. Shade trees are
important and are sometimes surrounded by protective borders. This practice can also be
traced to African traditions. For example, family compounds in southern Nigeria have
trees that are marked in special ways for certain family members or for specific uses.
Throughout West Africa, compounds are swept continually. This tradition is so strongly
African folklore
1058
maintained in the United States that the overall impression of starkness—even
barrenness—in African American yards is striking.
Even in the 1930s, flower gardens were common. These appear to have been almost
defiant gestures of commitment to aesthetic beauty in spite of desperately hard lives. But
decorating the yard with flowers was not an African tradition (although it was vigorously
adopted by Christian converts among southern Nigerians). This thesis is supported by
Jack Goody in his book The Culture of Flowers (1993). An examination of the
photographic collections and the accounts of pre- and early-colonialera travelers in Africa
held in the Commonwealth Library in London do not show or suggest that flowers were
grown for ornament around African dwellings. Despite the absence of an African
tradition, the use of flowers in African American rural yards has evolved distinctive
characteristics. Plants are always treated and admired as individual aesthetic objects, and
they are never massed for effect or used as “structural” materials, ground covers, or
foundation or background plantings (and rarely as hedges). Plants are selected mainly for
their colorful flowers, but there are no constantly recurring color combinations or
deliberate attempts to clash color, as was observed by Robert Farris Thompson in some
African textiles (1988, 13). The actual design of decorative yards seems to have much in
common with African American quilt design. Quilting is an art that is associated with a
rigid geometry for European Americans, but African Americans do not hesitate to bend
the discipline, and so their work has a rhythmic quality that nevertheless includes
surprising or unexpected choices and patterns.
Yards are also decorated with found objects and treasured family items. In one
Georgia yard for instance, a sewing machine is painted silver and set in front of the soft
gray foliage of angle’s trumpet and bright pink phlox. Color, form, reflectivity, and
movement are all appreciated in the choice of objects, which are usually highlighted with
plants. In addition, bottle trees decorate some African American yards. Empty glass
bottles, usually of different colors, are stuck on bare branches or hung from them.
Whether this continues similar traditions observed in Central Africa or is derived from
German Easter-egg trees, it is clear that such trends are not common among European
Americans.
In African American rural gardens and yards, aesthetic and ritual objects of individual
choice and meaning, as well as the surrounding flowers and trees, are continually
arranged and rearranged according to both traditional practices and artistic innovation. As
John Michael Vlach put it, African American artistic expression “is marked by constant,
individuating change, and improvisation is the touchstone of creativity” (1979, 3).
References
Goody, Jack. 1993. The Culture of Flowers. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press.
Kellert, Stephen R. 1984. Urban American Perceptions of Animals and the Natural Environment.
Urban Ecology 8:209–228.
Thompson, Robert Farris. 1983. Flash of the Spirit: African and Afro-American Art and
Philosophy. New York: Random House.
Vlach, John Michael. 1978. The Afro-American Tradition in Decorative Arts. Cleveland: Cleveland
Museum of Art.
African Americans
1059
Westmacott, Richard. 1992. African American Gardens and Yards in the Rural South. Knoxville:
University of Tennessee Press.
RICHARD WESTMACOTT
See also Diaspora; Housing: African American Traditions
YORUBA
See Architecture; Diaspora; Ifa; Orisha; Religion; Surrogate Languages ; Theater;
Tongue Twisters
African folklore
1060
Z
ZAMBIA (REPUBLIC OF ZAMBIA)
Zambia (Republic of Zambia) is a tropical to subtropical country in southern Africa that
is landlocked and surrounded by Tanzania, Malawi, Mozambique, Zimbabwe, Namibia,
Angola, Botswana, and the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Slightly larger than
Texas, Zambia has a population of nearly 10,400,000. The country’s capital is Lusaka, a
city that is home to 982,000 people. Zambia’s population is predominantly Bantuspeaking, although English is the official language. There are more than seventy different
ethnic groups, among whom the Bemba (34%), Nyanja (14%), Tonga (16%), and Lozi
(9%) are the most numerous. Half of Zambia’s population is Christian, while 48 percent
practice traditional religions. The remaining 2 percent is composed of Hindus, Muslims,
and other smaller religious traditions.
After many years under the control of the British South African Company, the
territory became Northern Rhodesia in 1911. On October 24, 1964, Zambia gained its
independence from Britain. After many years of single-party rule, political upheaval
forced the government to accept reforms leading to the creation of a multiparty republic
in 1990. Nevertheless, years of political and economic corruption have left the country in
a state of turmoil and underdevelopment.
Copper, zinc, cobalt, gemstones, tobacco, cotton, and textiles have been the main
sources of the country’s revenue. Until 1975, Zambia was one of the most prosperous
African nations, primarily due to its status as the world’s fourth-largest producer of
copper and fifth-largest of cobalt; 80 percent of its export income came from copper. But
the decreased international price of copper, internal political problems, and the decline of
agricultural production all contributed to a weakening of Zambia’s economy. In addition
to reduced revenue, the Anglo-American Corporation, the nation’s largest mining
company, has refused to pay for a cleanup of the environment.
As in so many African countries, HIV/AIDS has taken a horrific toll in Zambia, where
it was estimated in 2001 that over 20 percent of all adults are HIV positive.
JENNIFER JOYCE
African Americans
1061
ZAR: SPIRIT POSSESSION IN THE
SUDAN
Zar (also called Dastur or Rih Ahmar) is a phenomenon associated mostly with women. It
is a type of spirit possession that occurs primarily in Eritrea, Ethiopia, Egypt, Somalia,
and as far west as Nigeria. Among scholars, the definition of Zar is agreed to be spirit
possession by jin (spirits). In the Sudan, the Zar spirits are referred to by the name Al-Rih
Al-Ahmar, which used to be considered a separate category of jin.
The word Zar is presumably borrowed from Amharic (spoken in Ethiopia), where the
word is thought to be related to the ancient Agau religion, in which their sky god was
called Zar. Among the Arabic-speaking people, the word is thought to be derived from
the Arabic verb Zara which means “visited.” Brenda Seligman (1914, 300) does not
accept this view, however, and Samia Al Hadi Al-Nagar has recorded several other
sources of the name. It might come from Zara, a town in northern Iran, or from Zar, an
Arab village, east of Yemen, or from northern Nigeria (Al-Nagar 1975). Enrico Cerulli
(1934) mentions the possibility of a derivation from Adjar, the name of the supreme deity
of the Kushites of Ethiopia. Most scholars now agree that the name originated in Ethiopia
and diffused to other areas of northern Africa.
In the Sudan, Zar is exclusively a woman’s phenomenon. Men are only slightly
involved in it, though elsewhere the situation may be different as there have been reports
of possessed males. Another exception was recorded by Seligman who had been
informed that, among the Fallahin of Egypt, men are frequently possessed by Zar spirits
(1914, 305). In his study of Zar among the Nubians, John Kennedy notes that the
leadership and musician roles in Zar ceremonies are filled by men (1967, 187). There are
other accounts of male leaders at Zar ceremonies, as well. Therefore, while women are
still the main practitioners of Zar, various roles are played by men.
As for the practitioners of Zar, the terms Shaikha (for women) and Shaikh (for men)
are the most commonly used. In the Sinnar region, the female practitioner is called
Ommiva, and they never use the term Shaikha there. Elsewhere, the terms Usta and
Kudiya are also used interchangeably with Ommiya and the more common terms of
Shaikha and Shaikh (Al-Nagar 1975).
The first procedure in Zar healing is called Fath-al-ilba. This refers to the opening
(fath) of a tin box containing incense, which is related to several categories of spirits. The
second step is to identify the spirit which possesses the victim, and hence activate the
process by which the spirits can be controlled by the Haflat al-zar (Zar party).
Frankincense is burned and drums are played to accompany the ritual Zar songs. The
music and ritual songs continue until the patient becomes ecstatic and goes into a spirit
trance. When the patient is absorbed by the spirit, an expert woman, acting as a mediator,
calms the spirit by uttering some phrases, such as Dasturkum Ya Asiad, and promising to
meet the spirits’ demands. Then the victim, on behalf of the spirit (as the spirit speaks
through the possessed individual), expresses his or her needs, which are often for new
clothes, perfumes, and gold jewelry.
African folklore
1062
There are three different Zar ceremonies, of varying lengths. The longest lasts for
seven days and is referred to as Nasbal al-Aursi. The shortest lasts for three days. At the
end of either of these ceremonies, the patient has to make a sacrifice of an animal,
because blood is essential in concluding a Zar ceremony.
The Shaikha herself makes a ceremony, once every year during the month of Rajab,
called Al-Rajaligya. The Shaikha’s party marks the closing ceremony of the year that has
passed, and no Zar is practiced during the months of Shaaban and Ramadan.
There are many different types of Zar characters or spirits, both male and female,
although the majority are male. There are three main types:
1. Those with specific names, such as Shaikh Abdel Gadir Al-aylani or Luliyya alHabashiyya.
2. Those of certain nationalities, such as Al-Habashi, Al-Khawaja.
3. Those of different occupations, such as Al-Diktur or Al-Basha.
The commonly known types of Zar are:
1. Zar Habashi (Ethiopian) which is represented by Bashir and Luliyya.
2. Zar Khawaja (European) which is characterized by a European name or habit
(smoking, drinking, etc).
3. Zar al-Darawish (Dervish).
4. Zar al-Arabi (Arabic).
5. Zar al-Fallatiyya (Nigerian).
6. Zar al-Zuruk (Black people).
7. Zar al-Niyamniyam (cannibal).
The functions of Zar relate, directly or indirectly, to the particular social situation of the
individual possessed. The following explanations reflect some of the possible social
relationships that Zar possession affects. Most commonly, scholars note that, in Zar
possession, women find an escape from the world dominated by men. It is true that the
woman is able, through Zar, to do things she cannot in ordinary life; for example, she can
disperse her husband’s money, lessening his chance for another marriage. A woman who
is normally accustomed to being ordered around and threatened is able, through being
possessed, to order others and threaten them. The frequent demands for valuables can be
seen as a kind of insurance against a possible divorce. But this appears to be a very weak
function, because sometimes valuable objects can be borrowed and returned directly after
the occasion.
The possessed person can escape certain social customs imposed upon women by
society, such as Hadad (mourning), and she can avoid religious and socially prohibited
behavior such as smoking and drinking alcohol. There is also a chance for more social
interaction through the Zar ceremony, because in the Sudanese community women
generally have a limited chance to interact with others.
Zar possession seems to have a positive effect on psychosomatic and physical
illnesses, so it is a useful curative practice in some cases. For its audience, the Zar clearly
serves psychological and social needs beyond the therapeutic. Most significantly, it is
primarily an adult female activity reflecting Nubian social conditions of sex separation,
low female status, restriction of women from religious participation, an unbalanced sex
ratio, marital insecurity, and relative isolation.
African Americans
1063
Zar is of relevance to folklore, psychology, anthropology, and medicine, and a study
of Zar in conjunction with any of these disciplines would prove useful.
References
Al-Nagar, Samia Al Hadi. 1975. Spirit Possession and Social Change in Omdurman. M.Sc. thesis,
University of Khartoum.
Boddy, Janice. 1989. Wombs and Alien Spirits: Women, Men, and the Zar Cult in Northern Sudan.
Madison: University of Wisconsin Press.
Cerulli, Enrico. 1934. Somali/Somalia/Somaliland: Ethography. In Encyclopedia of Islam, ed.
M.Th.Houstma, et al. Leiden: Brill.
Kennedy, John G. 1967. Nubian Zar Ceremonies as Psychotherapy. Human Organization 26,
no.4:186–94.
Seligman, Brenda Z. 1914. On the Origin of Egyptian Zar. Folklore 25:300–323.
FARAH EISA MOHAMED
See also Gender Representation in African Folklore; Healing; Spirit Possession
ZIMBABWE (REPUBLIC OF
ZIMBABWE)
Located in southern Africa, Zimbabwe is a subtropical country surrounded by Zambia,
Mozambique, South Africa, and Botswana. Zimbabwe’s population of approximately
12,390,000 people is predominantly comprised of the Shona group (71 percent), while 16
percent are Ndebele and 13 percent consist of other smaller ethnic groups. The major
languages spoken in the country are English, (Chi)Shona, and (Si)Ndebele. Half of the
population practice syncretic religions (a combination of both Christian and indigenous
beliefs), 25 percent are Christian, 24 percent practice traditional indigenous religions, and
1 percent are Muslim. Harare, a city of 1,200,000, is the nation’s capital and largest city.
On April 18, 1980, Zimbabwe (formerly a British colony called Southern Rhodesia)
gained its formal independence. Zimbabwe was named after “Great Zimbabwe,” the
extraordinary sites of stone buildings created by the precolonial civilization that
controlled the area and traded gold and other wealth with coastal peoples and others
visiting the East African coast (including the Chinese). In 1890, these civilizations were
invaded by the Rhode’s British South Africa Company (BSACO) and, despite their
efforts, the indigenous people were not able to resist the foreign invaders. In 1924 the
self-governing British colony of Southern Rhodesia was formed, and local governing
powers were placed in the hands of the white settlers. In 1953, Southern Rhodesia
became federated with the other British colonies of Northern Rhodesia (Zambia) and
Nyasaland (Malawi) in a plan to make the area a “multi-racial” federation of Central
Africa. Power, however, remained in the hands of the white minority. Due to resistance
by the indigenous populations, the federation ended in 1963. The independent nations of
Malawi and Zambia were subsequently formed by black nationalists, while Southern
African folklore
1064
Rhodesia remained under the domain of the white minority, despite the advances of black
nationalists who desired independence.
In 1965, the Rhodesia Front (RF) government, led by Ian Smith, declared its
independence from Britain in hopes of continuing white supremacy. While both Britain
and the United Nations refused to recognize Smith’s government, neither took strong
measures to end it. Plans to overthrow the RF were carried out by black nationalists who,
in 1966, began underground movements and an armed struggle for independence. The
advances of these nationalists forced many of the white settlers into exile and the RF was
eventually forced into negotiations. An election in 1980 allowed the black nationalists to
take over the government, and Robert Mugabe subsequently became the first prime
minister of independent Zimbabwe. Although once seen as a great leader of independent
Africa, Mugabe now stands accused of political corruption and destroying the Zimbabwe
economy with an ill-conceived and brutally managed landresettlement plan.
The social conditions of most of Zimbabwe’s people greatly improved immediately
after independence, but now they have lost nearly all of the foreign-exchange income
they were earning for agricultural products. Tobacco was a major crop, but most of the
farms have been destroyed, as white landowners and their workers have been driven
away. Recently the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank severed their
relationships with the country due to nonpayment of loans. Yet another sobering note is
the impact of HIV/AIDS—life expectancy dropped to forty-three years in 1990, and in
2000, one in five individuals was infected with HIV.
Harare, the capital, has become southern Africa’s center for arts and communications.
Many of the city’s filmmakers, musicians, writers, and artists are internationally
renowned for their work. Malachite carvings by Zimbabwean sculptors are also
internationally valued and renowned.
JENNIFER JOYCE
ZULU
See Beadwork
African Americans
1065
APPENDIX:
African Studies Centers and Libraries in
the USA and Africa
See entry: Libraries
African Centers and Libraries
• Centre Regional de Documentation (CRDT) was established in Niamey, Niger, as a
joint venture between the government of Niger and UNESCO in 1968. One of the
goals of the center was to collect data in sixteen West African countries.
• The Swaziland Oral History Project, based in the National Archives of Lobamba,
established in 1985, has the goal to introduce an archive of Swazi oral history and
publish select transcripts from the archive.
• The Oral Traditions Association of Zimbabwe (OTAZI), formed in 1988, an
organization that is closely linked with the Oral Traditions Association of Southern
Africa (OTASA) aims at promoting Zimbabwe’s oral history and at improving the
methodology of working with oral data.
• The East African Centre for Research on Oral Traditions and African National
Languages (EACROTANAL) is based in Zanzibar and founded in 1977 by Tanzania,
Madagascar, Sudan, Ethiopia, and Burundi, with Somalia, Mozambique and the
Comoros joining later. One of the center’s goals is to promote regional research on
oral traditions. The center has also published Studies and Documents (Etudes et
documents) between 1980 and 1987.
• The Institute of African Studies Documentation Centre (University of Ghana) opened in
1990 and has as its goals to gather and disseminate oral data, serve as an information
center for researchers, and to be a regional center for the collection of oral data.
• The George Padmore Research Library on African Affairs in Ghana opened in 1961. In
the early 1980s, the library conducted a series of oral documentation that consisted of
interviews of prominent Ghanaians and Africanists
• The Cultural Archives of Senegal, which is connected to Senegal’s Ministry of Culture,
has as its goal “the worldwide collecting and archival management of the various
forms of expression of Negro-African civilization in order that elements of their
original structure may be conserved” (Saliou Mbaye, “Oral Records in Senegal,” 568).
• The Center for the Study of Civilizations in Senegal (also connected to the Ministry of
Culture) opened in 1972 and has as its mission the “study of the interrelationship
between language and culture, the development and goals of the humanities in Africa,
the study of the imaginary world, and the promotion of cultural life among the
people.” (Ibid., 569) It collects oral literature and studies modes of traditional
expression based on the spoken word.
Appendix
1067
• The Primary Institute of Black Africa (IFAN Cheikh Anta Diop) was established in
1966. Within the institute, the Department of Literature and Civilization and the
Department of Islamic Studies collect oral records.
• The University of Zambia’s oral history project was launched in 1979 and had as its
goals to record oral data and to compile a two-volume bibliography of oral history
projects in Zambia. The first volume, Taped and Transcribed Projects, came out in
1981; the second volume was delayed.
US-based Centers and Libraries
• Indiana University’s (IU) Main Library has a separate Folklore Collection that is
considered one of the finest working collections of folklore in the United States. It
includes collections of folklore materials as well as reference works and has large
holdings on Africa. Indiana University is also the home of the Archives of Traditional
Music, which contains one of the largest collections of phonorecordings of African
music and oral data in the world.
• The Archive of Folk Culture of the American Folklife Center (Thomas Jefferson
Building, Room G152, Washington D.C.), includes sources for the study of folk
music, folklore, folklife, and oral history. It contains copies of original recordings, a
reference collection, and several important collections of field recordings (Laura
Boulton collection; The Arthur S. Alberts collection; Paul Bowles collection; James
Rosellini and Kathleen Johnson collection; Halim El-Dabh collection; Darius Thieme
collection; Helen R. Roberts collection).
• The Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, New York Public Library is
among the world’s largest collections of records “documenting the experiences of
peoples of African origin and descent.”
• The Melville J.Herskovits Library of African Studies at Northwestern University holds
one of the world’s largest Africana collections that includes sound recordings and
several special collections.
• Columbia University’s Center for Studies in Ethnomusicology has Africa-related
recordings (field and commercial) and its collections includes the Laura Boulton
collection, the Sviatoslav Podstavsk collection on the Argungu of northern Nigeria;
the Barbara Hampton collection on the Ga of Accra, Ghana; and the Salwa El-Shawan
collection on Egypt.
• The Traditional Music Documentation Project (Washington, D.C.) “is an independent
non-profit organization which seeks to identify and document extant examples of
traditional African music.” It includes over eight thousand recorded items (field and
commercial recordings).
APPENDIX:
Field and Broadcast Sound Recording
Collections at the Indiana University
Archives of Traditional Music (ATM)
See entry: Archives of Traditional Music
Guide to the Appendix
The following appendix was prepared by (ATM) staff members Ronda Sewald and
Meredith Vaughn, with librarian Suzanne Mudge, archivist Marilyn Graf, and former
associate director Mary Bucknum, who provided critical assistance and guidance. This
appendix includes the entire holdings of field and broadcast collections of African music
and oral data at the ATM; it does not include commercial releases. One can use this
appendix to find collections of interest and then continue the search using the electronic
catalog accessible on the website, http://www.indiana.edu/%7elibarchm/, which contains
far more detail than do the entries below. Asterisks indicate that a collection is not yet
cataloged; however, information on such collections can still be obtained by contacting
ATM staff at atmusic@indiana.edu. Each entry is organized in the same manner, as are
our original cataloging records, which typically include the following information:
1. Location (country/countries, and city/region where available, where recordings were
made). Although organizing this list by country privileges a colonial perspective and
organizational model, this arrangement has been chosen for two reasons. First, this
will ease the use of this appendix by researchers, given that the titles of collections, as
found in our catalog records, are organized this way. Second, some collections have
no ethnic specification (e.g., a lecture on South African politics), which would have
made problematic an organizational hierarchy that placed ethnicity at the top level.
2. Ethnic group(s)
3. Date(s) of recording
4. Collector(s)
5. Physical description of collection
6. Keywords
7. ATM Accession number
The following example shows how these categories appear in an actual entry. Boldface
numbers indicate the categories above: 1. Belgian Congo, Province du Kasai. 2.
Basongye. 3. 1959–1960. 4. Merriam, Alan P.; Merriam, Barbara W. 5. 11 sound tape
reels. 6. Congo, funeral rites. Singing games. Praise songs. Children’s songs. 7. 66–128F.
Appendix
1069
This appendix identifies the country where the recording was made, and not
necessarily the performers’ country of origin. For example, recordings of Africans and
Africanist lecturers made in the United States are listed under the heading United States
(N.B.: this appendix does not include recordings of African Americans or other African
diaspora peoples). For purposes of historical accuracy, the country name that was current
when each recording was made is listed; thus in some cases researchers must search the
current country name and all historical country names to find materials from a single
location (for example, researchers interested in Malawi must search both Malawi and
Nyasaland). Collections are listed only once. If a collection features recordings from
multiple countries, but materials from one country predominate, the collection is listed
under that one country; if there is an even spread of materials from many parts of Africa,
or if the country where a recording was made is unknown, then the collection is listed
under the category Various and Unknown Locations.
Algeria
Algeria and Niger, Sahara region, Tuareg, 1958. Holiday, Geoffrey; Holiday, Finola. 1 sound tape
reel. Folk music. Hunting songs. Love songs. 58–008–F.
Algeria and Niger, Tuaregs, 1978. Card, Caroline. 2 sound tape reels. Music. Folk music.
Nigerians. 78–022–F.
Algeria, Tamarasset; Niger, Niamey, Tuareg, 1976–1977. Card, Caroline. 30 sound tape reels.
Rites. Ceremonies. Fulute music. 78–017–F.
Algeria, Tuareg, 1935. Fodermayr, Franz; Zohrer, Ludwig G.A. 1 sound tape reel. Songs. 78–018–
F.*
Algeria, Tuaregs, 1972. Wendt, Caroline Card. 1 sound tape reel. Folk songs. Imzad music.
Tamacheq. 73–056–F.
Angola
Angola and South Africa, 1947. Camp, Charles M.; Boulton, Laura. 12 sound tape reels.
Kimbundu. Ovambo. San. Zulu. Hottentot. 54–170–F.
Angola and Zaire, Ovimbundu, 1929–1930. Hambly, Wilfrid Dyson. 40 cylinders. Prayers. Singing
games. Work songs. Linguistics. 54–007–F.
Angola, Chitau, Dondi, Lobito Bay, Vihela, 1931. Boulton, Laura. 5 sound tape reels. Folk songs.
Mbundu. Chokwe. Work songs. Mbira music. 92–319–F.
Angola, Napika, Angolans, 1969. Boulton, Laura. 1 sound tape reel. Music. Songs. Dance music.
92–397–F.
Angola, South Africa, Namibia, Swaziland, 1947–1948. Boulton, Laura. 19 sound tape reels. Rites.
Ceremonies. Work songs. Children’s songs. Hymns. Puberty rites. Musical bow music. Mbira
music. 92–317–F.
Angola; Dondi, Galangue, Kamatundo; Ovimbundu, Vachokwe, Gangela, Kuanyama, Humbe,
Baluba; 1971 Boulton, Laura. 16 sound tape reels. Songs. Dance music. Puberty rites. Initiation
rites. Circumcision rites. Mbira music. Xylophone music. 92–402–F.
Belgian Congo
Belgian Congo and Ruanda-Urundi, 1951–1952. Merriam, Alan P.; Merriam, Barbara W. 76 sound
tape reels. Congo. Wedding songs. Work songs. Children’s songs. Drinking songs. 66–127–F.
Appendix
1070
Belgian Congo: Kivu, Katanga, and Leopoldville Provinces, 1952–1954. Alberts, Arthur S. 9 sound
tape reels. Congo. Children’s Songs. Speeches. Highlife. Rites. Church music. 68–059–F.
Belgian Congo, Province du Kasai, Basongye, 1959–1960. Merriam, Alan P.; Merriam, Barbara W.
11 sound tape reels. Congo. Funeral rites. Singing games. Praise songs. Children’s songs. 66–
128–F.
Belgian Congo, Tumba, Bakongo, 1908. Laman, K.E. 7 cylinders. Congo. Folk songs. Work songs.
54–210–F.
Benin
Benin, Gun and Fon, 1981–1983. Chaabane, Rhonda. 2 sound cassettes. Songs. Music. 86–159–F.
Biafra, Republic of
Republic of Biafra, 1967. Irwin, Graham W. 1 sound tape reel. Nigeria. Speech. History. Civil war.
69–132–F.
Botswana
Botswana, c. 1970. Tlou, Thomas. 7 sound tape reels. Oral history. Interviews. Yei. Tawana.
Kwena. Rolong. 73–001–F.
Botswana, N’gamiland, 1967. Lambrecht, Frank; Lambrecht, Dora. 4 sound tape reels. !Kung.
Dance music. Mbira. Children’s songs. 68–209–F.
*Uncatalogued
Burkina Faso
Burkina Faso, Ouagadougou, 1983–1987. Sankara, Thomas. 18 sound cassettes. Burkina Faso.
Politics. Government. 92–077–F/B.
Burundi
Burundi, Independence Day celebration, 1962. Cox, William L. 1 sound tape reel. Speeches. 74–
002–F.
Cameroon
Cameroon, 1967. Quersin, Benoit. 24 sound tape reels. Bulu. Ngangte. Eton. Bamileke. Fefe. Tikar.
Bafia. Bamun. 72–233–F.
Cameroon, Central Cameroon, Gbaya, 1966–1967. Noss, Philip A. 12 sound tape reels. Oral
tradition. Proverbs. Parables. Riddles. 71–003-F.
Cameroon, Nso, 1977. Fanso, Verkijika G. 7 sound tape reels. Oral history. 77–072–F.
Cameroon, Yaounde, 1980. Keim, Karen Ruth King. 39 sound cassettes. Interviews. Popular music.
Folklore. Literature. 85–290–F.
Appendix
1071
Chad
Chad and Central African Republic, 1974. Cordell, Dennis. 24 sound cassettes. Folklore. History.
Interviews. 77–064–F.
Chad, Tarangara, 1965. Schultz, William L. 1 sound tape reel. Folk songs. Dance music.
Instrumental music. Ndoka. 77–033–F.
Comoros
Comoros, Sirazi, 1981. Ottenheimer, Martin. Ottenheimer, Harriet. 33 sound tape reels. Shinzwani.
Hingazija. Weddings. Legends. Rites. Ceremonies. Oral history. 81–098–F.
Congo
Congo, Bakuba, Baluba, and Bobangi, 1906. Starr, Frederick. 18 cylinders. Ocarina music. Bow
music. Whistle music. Songs. 69–015–F.
Congo, c. 1940–1960 (?). Boulton, Laura. 3 sound tape reels. Amazon river region. Sahara. Egypt.
Music. 92–534–F.
Congo, France, United States, 1986–1989. Martin, Phyllis M. 24 sound cassettes. Interviews.
Leisure. Society. Brazzaville. Customs. Social life. 97–114–F.
Congo, Gandajika, Luba, 1968–1969. Callebaut, Jeroom. 1 sound tape reel. Children’s songs.
Ballada. Lullabies. 91–210–F.
Congo, Katanga Province, Luba-Shankadi and Balaba, 1970. Gansemans, Jos 29 sound tape reels.
Folk music. Drum language. Rites. Ceremonies. Birth songs. 71–408–F.
Congo, Kinshasa, Luba, 1945–1967. Pruitt, William Franklin. 1 wire recording. Interviews. Oral
history. School songs. Speeches. 74–101–F.
Congo, Lake McDonald, Basongye, 1973. Merriam, Alan. 2 sound cassettes. Folk songs. Folk
music. Wedding music. 73–054–F.
Congo, Pool, Brazzaville, Teke, Bangala, Libangi, Kongo, 1986. Ngole, Jean-Pierre. 20 sound
cassettes. Songs. Work songs. Women. Markets. 88–105–F.
Dahomey
Dahomey and Brazil, 1942–1950. Azevedo, Luiz Heitor Corrêa. 3 sound tape reels. Benin.
Children’s songs. Work songs. Rites. Cults. 68–064–F.
Dahomey, Various culture groups, 1955. Agbo, Marius. 1 sound tape reel. Benin. Yoruba. Fon.
Dendi. Mahi. Dompago. Funeral music. 67–165–F.
Egypt
Egypt, 1968–1971. El-Shamy, Hasan M. 7 sound tape reels. Egyptian folktales. Folk music.
Legends. Marriage customs. 71–303–F.
Egypt, Copts, 1931–1977. Boulton, Laura. 144 sound tape reels. Coptic church. Music. Hymns.
Church music. 93–161–B/C/F.
Egypt, Turkish, Arabic, c. 1960–1970. Roy, Martha. 74 sound tape reels. 6 sound cassettes. Folk
songs. Ceremonial songs. Ramadan. Mawwal. Taqsim. 93–198–F/C*
Appendix
1072
England
England, London, West Africans, 1943. Unknown. 7 sound discs. Igbo. Ewe. Yoruba. Music.
Songs. 76–167–F.
Ethiopia
Ethiopia, 1947. Leslau, Wolf. 38 sound discs. Church music. Wedding music. Folk music.
Children’s songs. 54–002–F.
Ethiopia, 1966. Boulton, Laura. 26 sound tape reels. Folk music. Coptic church. Amhara. Sudanese.
Oromo. Somalis. Masenqo. Washint. 92–309–F.
Ethiopia, Addis Ababa, 1970. Lemma, Tesfaye. 2 sound tape reels. Folk music. Work songs.
Wedding music. Minstrels. 72–085–F.
Ethiopia, Addis Ababa, Ethiopians, 1966. Boulton, Laura. 1 sound tape reel. Music. Arabic.
Tigrinya. Oromo. Amhara. Walamo. 92–330–F.
Ethiopia, Addis Ababa, Harrar and Jigiga, 1972. Kimberlin, Cynthia. 97 sound tape reels. Folk
music. Popular music. Rock music. 76–178–F.
Ethiopia, Aduwa, Copts, 1968. Davis, Gordon A. 1 sound tape reel. Baptism. Churches. Church
music. 71–180–F.
Ethiopia, Ethiopians, 1966–1967. Boulton, Laura. 1 sound tape reel. Music. Folk music. Sacred
music. 92–421–F.
Ethiopia, Falasha and Amhara, 1973. Shelemay, Kay. 35 sound tape reels. Jewish chants. Jews.
Interviews. 74–031–F.
Ethiopia, Falasha, 1940. Unknown. 5 sound discs. Cushitic. Folk music. 87–128–F.
Ethiopia, Falashas, c. 1945. Leslau, Wolf. 2 sound discs. Chants. Prayers. 54–214–F.
Ethiopia, Kaffa, Me’en (Teshenna), 1964–1965. Muldrow, William; Muldrow, Elizabeth. 2 sound
tape reels. Funeral music. Harvest music. Work songs. 74–072–F.
Ethiopia, Tigre and Eritrea, 1942–1943. Courlander, Harold. 10 sound discs. Folk music. Work
songs. Linguistics. Praise songs. 54–001–F.
France
France, Paris, Colonial Exhibition, 1931. Musée de la Parole. 2 sound tape reels. Tunisians.
Moroccans. Fon. Lao. Benin. Congo. War songs. Work songs. Funeral music. 61–052–F.
French Equatorial Africa
French Equatorial Africa, Bateke, 1911. Laman, K.E. 21 cylinders. French Guyana. Folk songs.
54–211–F.
French Equatorial Africa, Lambarene, 1956. Boulton, Laura. 1 sound tape reel. Gabon. Music.
Songs. Dance music. 92–393–F.
Gabon
Gabon and Río Muni, Fang, 1959–1960. Fernandez, James W. 20 sound tape reels. Linguistics.
Drum language. Prayers. Lullabies. 71–255–F.
Gambia
Appendix
1073
Gambia and Senegal, Wolof, 1951. Ames, David W. 9 sound tape reels. Islam. Rites. Wedding
music. Children’s music. Work songs. 66–205–F.
Gambia, Senegal, Mandinka, Fula, and others, 1970. Knight, Roderic. 287 sound tape reels.
Mandingo. Folk music. Drum music. Griots. 77–073–F.
Gambia, Senegal, Wolof, 1973–1974. Magel, Emil. 32 sound tape reels. Stories. Narratives. 76–
001–F.
Ghana
Ghana and Nigeria, 1973. Hanley, Sister Mary Ann, C.S.J. 17 sound tape reels. Church music. 74–
095–F.
Ghana and Upper Volta, 1972. Hanley, Sister Mary Ann, C.S.J. 19 sound tape reels. Burkina Faso.
Band music. Mass music. Church music. Wedding music. 74–094–F.
Ghana, 1966. Boulton, Laura. 3 sound tape reels. Music. Folk music. Folk songs. Dance music. 92–
310–F.
Ghana, Accra, Ga, 1972. Robertson, Claire. 38 sound tape reels. Interviews. Women. History. Oral
history. 74–098–F.
Ghana, Akan, Ewe, and Ga, 1987–1988. 8 sound cassettes. Drumming. Ceremonies. Prayers.
Interviews.*
Ghana, Ashanti, c. 1955. Prempeh, Kofi. 1 sound tape reel. Folk music. Folk songs. 73–058–F.
Ghana, Ashanti, Ewe, Krobo, 1974. Coplan, David B., Thomason, Lee. 7 sound tape reels. Funeral
music. Drum music. Highlife music. Stool ceremony. 74–103–F.
Ghana, Brong and Ashanti, 1970–1972. Owen, Wilfred 40 sound cassettes. Festivals. Libations.
Oral history. Praise songs. Tales. 72–237–F.
Ghana, Brong-Ahafo, Bono-Akan, 1969–1971. Warren, Dennis M. 44 sound tape reels. Oral
history. Folklore. Cults. Children’s songs. Rites. Praise songs. 72–249–F.
Ghana, Ga, Twi, Ewe, 1970–1972. Coplan, David. B. 5 sound tape reels. Folk music. Highlife
music. 85–519–F.
Ghana, Juaben, Ashanti, 1966. Akyea, Ofori E. 2 sound tape reels. Ashanti. Folk songs. Funeral
music. Percussion. 67–215–F.
Ghana, Kasena, 1973–1977. Robertson-DeCarbo, Carol. 5 sound tape reels. Kasem. Rites.
Ceremonies. Drum music. 80–181–F.
Ghana, Navrongo and Tamale, 1960. Sarkisian, Leo. 2 sound tape reels. Praise songs. Work songs.
Funeral music. Children’s songs. 61–053–F.
Ghana, Northern Region, Lobi and Wala, 1975. Hagaman, Barbara L. 5 sound cassettes. Rites. Folk
music. Work songs. Mbira. Drum music. 81–099–F.
Ghana, Northern Territories, 1950. Unknown collector. 2 sound tape reels. Instrumental music. 73–
057–F.
Ghana, Togo and Benin, Ewe, 1968–1971. Aduamah, E.Y. 8 sound tape reels. Love songs. Cults.
Processions. Prayers. Funerals. War songs. Puberty rites. Singing games. 73–096–F.
Ghana, University of Ghana, 1972. Kealiinohomoku, Joann. 3 sound tape reels. Lecture. Dance
music. 74–050–F.
Ghana, Upper Region, Wala, 1966–1967. Fikry, Mona. 126 sound tape reels. Wa. Oral history.
Folk music. Customs. Folklore. 69–129–F.
Ghana; United States, New York, Ewe, 1968–1978. Pantaleoni, Hewitt. 100 sound tape reels.
Uganda. Drum music. Children’s songs. Ga. Highlife. 96–239–F.
Guinea
Guinea, 1984–1993. Geysbeek, Tim 61 sound cassettes. Oral histories. Epic poetry. Interviews.
Folk rituals. 98–379–F.*
Appendix
1074
Guinea-Conakry, Maninka, 1970s–1992. Conrad, David; Geysbeek, Tim. 12 sound cassettes.
Mandingo. Epic poetry. Oral tradition. Music. 99–020–F.
Ivory Coast
Ivory Coast, Dan (Yacouba), Mahou, Kognawe, Djomande Mahou, 1997. Reed, Daniel B. 79
sound cassettes. 24 DAT. 28 Hi8 video cassettes. 3 VHS video cassettes. Ceremonial masks.
Mask performances. Interviews. Drum music. 98–005–F.*
Ivory Coast and Upper Volta, Dyula, 1979–1980. Green, Kathryn. 37 sound cassettes. Burkina
Faso. Cote d’Ivoire. Kong. History. 82–413–F.
Ivory Coast and Upper Volta, Mau, 1973–1974. Ellovich, Risa S. 5 sound tape reels. Cote d’Ivoire.
Weddings. Oral history. Dyula. Folk music. 75–029–F.
Ivory Coast, 1963–1965. Tourgara, Adam. 14 sound tape reels. Cote d’Ivoire. Dyula. Mandingo.
Bambara. 66–197-C.
Ivory Coast, Senufo, 1969–1970. Glaze, Anita J. 36 sound cassettes. Oral history. Folk music.
Rites. Cults. Praise songs. 71–307–F.
Kenya
Kenya and South Africa, 1961. Morgenthau, Henry. 6 sound tape reels. Interviews. Jomo Kenyatta.
Tom Mboya. 71–018–F/B.
Kenya, Didinga, 1974–1978. Moore, Robert O. 2 sound cassettes. Didinga language. Linguistics.
Word lists. 89–073–F.
Kenya, Eastern Province and Ethiopia, Borana Province and Wollega Province, c. 1957–1985.
Andrzejewski, Bogumi Witalis 16 sound cassettes. 11 sound tape reels. Oromo. Folk literature.
Music. Boran. Qottu. Shoa. Orma. Gabra. Wollega. Tales. Proverbs. 94–205–F/B.
Kenya, Kalenjin, 1974–78. Moore, Robert O. 40 sound cassettes. Kalenjin language. Linguistics.
Bok. Bongomet. Kony. Sabaot. Sebei. Endo. Geyo. Marakwet. Pakot. Tugen. Tenik. Sogoo. 89–
072–F.
Kenya, Kisii District, Nyaribari Location, Gusii, 1966. Dobrin, Arthur. 1 sound tape reel. Rites.
Ceremonies. Circumcision. Birth songs. 67–039–F.
Kenya, Lamu, Waswahili, 1976–1977. Boyd, Alan W. 77 sound cassettes, 47 sound tape reels. 77–
091–F.
Kenya, Masai, 1975–1976. Berntsen, John Lawrence. 18 sound tape reels. Religion. Politics. 78–
030–F.
Kenya, Mijikenda, Kamba and Wasta, 1971. Spear, Thomas. 18 sound tape reels. Interviews.
History. 80–038–F.
Kenya, North Nyanza Bantu, Tanzania. Moore, Robert O. Manuscript. Vocabulary. Bugusu.
Sanawe. 89–074–MS.*
Kenya, Nyanaza Province, Gusii, 1966. Dobrin, Arthur. 1 sound tape reel. Harvest songs. Funeral
music. War songs. Children’s songs. 66–148–F.
Kenya, Siyu, Mombasa, Nairobi, Swahili, 1981–1984. Brown, W. Howard. 13 sound cassettes.
Swahili poetry. Oral history. Interviews. Swahili language. 85–282–F.
Kenya, Swahili and Masai, 1980. Schoenbrun, Lewis. 2 sound cassettes. Folk music. Children’s
songs. Swahili language. 80–228–F.
Kenya, Tabaka Mission, Kisii, 1975. Dobrin, Arthur. 5 sound cassettes. Rites. Ceremonies. Gusii.
Songs. 85–346–F.
Kenya, Western Province, Busia District, Iteso, 1970. Karp, Ivan. 3 sound tape reels. Teso. Folk
music. Funeral tires. Drinking songs. 84–492–F.
Appendix
1075
Liberia
Liberia and Sierra Leone, Gbande, Loma, Mandingo, 1935. Morey, Robert H. 16 cylinders. War
songs. Folk music. Love songs. 54–003–F.
Liberia, Afro-Americans, 1973–1975. Shick, Tom W. 18 sound cassettes. Interviews. Oral history.
77–078–F.
Liberia, Bassa, Kru, Loma, and others, 1973–1976. Siegmann, William. 38 sound cassettes.
Interviews. Oral histories. 78–158– F.
Liberia, Bong County, Kpelle, 1970. Stone, Ruth M.; Stone, Verlon L. 24 sound tape reels. Folk
music. Drum music. Work music. Drum language. Rites. 73–052–F.
Liberia, Bong County, Kpelle, 1971–1973. Gay, Judith S. 30 sound tape reels. Oral history.
Folklore. Folk tales. Epic songs. Jokes. 74–063–F.
Liberia, Bong County, Kpelle, 1975–1976. Stone, Ruth M., Stone, Verlon L. 72 sound tape reels.
Language. Rites. Songs. Poetry. 82–434–F.
Liberia, Dei, Gbande, Gola, Kpelle, Mandingo, Vai, 1985–1986. Holsoe, Svend E. 115 sound tape
reels and 75 sound cassettes. Broadcasts. Languages. Oral history. Tales. Recitations. 76–049–
F.
Liberia, Kpelle, Mandingo, Kru, and other groups, c. 1942. Okie, Packard L. 24 sound tape reels.
Work songs. Church music. Puberty rites. Ramadan hymns. 57–001–F.
Liberia, Kru, 1971–1972. Massing, Andreas. 5 sound tape reels. Linguistics. Church music. Folk
songs. Christmas music. 72–079–F.
Liberia, Monrovia, 1949. Alberts, Lois; Alberts, Arthur S. 2 sound tape reels. Popular music.
Songs. 68–060–F.
Liberia, Nimba County, Sanniquellie, 1970. Hawthorne, Richard. 2 sound tape reels. Traditional
medicine. Healers. 70–149–F.
Liberia, Nimiah, Djabo, 1930–1931. Herzog, George. 236 cylinders. War music. Folk songs.
Linguistics. Drumming. Xylophone. 54–223–F.
Liberia, Robertsport and Cape Mount, 1942. Okie, Packard L. 2 sound tape reels. Vai. Buzi. Bassa.
Gola. Mende. Gbandi. Kissi. 54–004–F.
Liberia, Sinoe County, 1975–1976. Sullivan, Jo Mary. 58 sound cassettes. History. Church music.
Oral history. Folk music. 76–177–F.
Libya
Libya, Cyrenaica, 1974, 1978–1979. Behnke, Barbara. 12 sound cassettes. Wedding music. Songs.
Rites. Marriage customs. 80–115–F/C.
Libya, Cyrenaica, 1978–79. Behnke, Roy. 3 sound cassettes. Work songs. Arabic. 80–116–F.
Malawi
Malawi, Asena and Likuba, 1982–84. Strumpf, Mitchel. 4 sound cassettes. Folk music. Children’s
songs. Drums. 85–494–F.
Malawi, Blantyre, Cewa and Yao, 1988. Strumpf, Mitchel. 2 videocassettes. Interviews. Musicians.
Music festivals. 88–087–F.
Malawi, Zomba, Chancellor College, 1991. 1 videocassette. Choral music. 91–343–F.
Mali
Mali, 1973–1974. Johnson, John William. 12 sound tape reels. Bambara. Epic poetry. Interviews.
Sundiata. Sunjata. 76–131–F.
Appendix
1076
Mali, Bamako, Malinke, 1978. Massing, Andreas. 3 sound cassettes. Epic poetry. Mandingo. Folk
music. Oral tradition. 78–104–F.
Mali, Bamako, Maninka, 1961. Bird, Charles S. 4 sound tape reels. Mandingo. Oral tradition. Epic
poetry. 76–033–F.
Mali, Bamako, Maninka, 1967–1968. Bird, Charles S. 8 sound tape reels. Folk music. Griots.
Praise songs. Kora music. 71–124–F.
Mali, Bamako, Maninka, 1968. Bird, Charles S. 5 sound tape reels. Oral tradition. Epic poetry.
Hunting songs. 71–259–F.
Mali, Bamako, Maninka, 1972. Bird, Charles S. 2 sound tape reels. Mandingo. Oral tradition. Epic
poetry. 76–035–F.
Mali, Bamako, Maninka, 1975. Bird, Charles S. 4 sound tape reels. Mandingo. Hunting songs. Epic
poetry. Oral tradition. 75–190– F.
Mali, Bamako, North Americans, 1975. Johnson, John William. 1 sound tape reel. Tales. Festivals.
Social customs. 85–266–F.
Mali, Bamana, Maninka, and Khassonke, 1975–1976. Conrad, David. 35 sound cassettes. Hunting
songs. History. Ballads. Tales. 88–061–F.
Mali, Bambara (Jula), Minianka, 1989–1991. Maxwell, Heather A. (Adou) 8 sound cassettes.
Music pedagogy. Folk music. Balafen. Dance music. 96–263–F.*
Mali, Dogon, 1989. Siegmann, William. 1 sound tape reel. Music. Folk music. 89–199–F.
Mali, Keyla, Mandinka, 1972. Bird, Charles S. 4 sound tape reels. Folk songs. Folk music.
Wedding music. 72–230–F.
Mali, Keyla, Maninka, 1968. Bird, Charles S. 2 sound tape reels. Mandingo. Epic poetry. Oral
tradition. 76–036–F.
Mali, Kita, Maninka, 1968. Bird, Charles S.; Diabate, Massa M. 3 sound tape reels. Oral tradition.
Griots. Historical songs. 71–260– F.
Mali, Kita, Maninka, 1968. Diabate, Massa M.; Bird, Charles S. 3 sound tape reels. Mandingo.
History. Praise songs. Oral tradition. 76–034–F.
Mali, Kolokani, Bamana, 1974–1976. Mahy, Judith. 28 sound tape reels. Bambara. Weddings.
Rites. Ceremonies. Dance music. 76–127–F.
Mali, Kolokani, Bamana, 1975–1976. Brink, James. 12 sound cassettes. Songs. Bambara. 76–126–
F.
Mali, Kondo, Bamako, Bamana, Fula, Dogon, 1984–1987. Lucas, Peter. 4 sound cassettes. Songs.
Griots. Oral tradition. Lute music. 88–107–F.
Mali, Mandingo, 1980–1981. Courlander, Howard. 18 sound cassettes. Bambara. Soninke. Tales.
Customs. Interviews. 83–736–F.
Mali, Maninka, 1968–1972. Diabate, Massa M.; Bird, Charles S. 51 sound tape reels. Epic poetry.
Folk songs. Praise songs. Oral tradition. Kora music. 73–005–F.
Mali, Marka, 1972–1977. Roberts, Richard L. 35 sound cassettes. Oral history. Oral tradition. 77–
063–F.
Morocco
Morocco, 1963, 1969. Wanklyn, Christopher. 5 sound tape reels. Festivals. Sufism. Weddings.
Instrumental music. 74–119–F.
Morocco, ca. 1959. Bowles, Paul; Wanklyn, Christopher. 1 sound tape reel. Folk music. Rites and
ceremonies. Islam. Ramadan. 62–017–F.
Morocco, Salé, ca. 1960. Cherki, Salah. 9 sound tape reels. Arabic. Folk music. Art music. Songs.
69–023–F.
Appendix
1077
Mozambique
Mozambique, 1965. Morgenthau, Henry. 3 sound tape reels. Politics. Government. Social
conditions. Interviews. 69–204–F.
Mozambique, 1969. Boulton, Laura. 1 sound tape reel. Music. Mozambique. Popular music. 92–
529–F.
Mozambique, 1969–1971. Boulton, Laura. 27 sound tape reels. Dance music. Chopi. Makua. Sena.
Zezuru. Panpipes music. Lullabies. Xylophone music. 92–363–F.
Mozambique, Zambezi, 1968–1969. Isaacman, Allen. 29 sound tape reels. Oral history. Tawara.
Chewa. Chopi. Slavery. 81–032–F.
Niger
Niger and Algeria, Niamey and Tamanrasset, Nigerians and Tuareg, c. 1970–1978. Card, Caroline.
2 sound tape reels. Music. 78–022–F.
Niger, Hausa, 1972–1973. Baier, Stephen. 26 sound cassettes. Interviews. Finance. History. 73–
053–F.
Niger, Maradi, 1988–1990. Cooper, Barbara. 49 sound cassettes. Interviews. Hausa. Fula. Kanuri.
Women. 93–237–F.
Niger, Mirria, Hausa, 1973–1975. Saunders, Margaret Overholt; Saunders, Stewart. 20 sound
cassettes. Koran. Wedding music. Church music. Oral history. 75–186–F.
Niger, Songhay, and Zarma, 1980–1981. Hale, Thomas. 35 sound tape reels. Chants. Epic poetry.
Griots. Music. 88–104–F.
Niger, Tanout, Diffa, Hausa, 1981. Beik, Janet. 19 sound tape reels. Theater. Drama. Praise songs.
88–062–F.
Nigeria
Nigeria and Dahomey, Yorubans, 1974. LaPin, Deirdre Ann. 78 sound tape reels. Songs. Proverbs.
Stories. Jokes. Narratives. 75–034–F.
Nigeria, 1972. Armstrong, Robert G. 2 sound tape reels. Opera. 72–240–F.
Nigeria, Benin City, Bini, 1966. Ben-Amos, Dan. 85 sound tape reels. Mbira. Oral tradition. Praise
songs. Singing games. 70–092–F.
Nigeria, Benue Plateau, Idoma, Agila, 1963. Armstrong, Robert G. 2 sound tape reels. Oral
tradition. Masks. Tales. Folk songs. 72–244–F.
Nigeria, Benue Plateau, Oturkpo, 1963. Armstrong, Robert G. 2 sound tape reels. Children’s songs.
Idoma. 72–242–F.
Nigeria, Benue Plateau, Western State, 1960–1969. Unoogwu, Patrick; Wittig, Curt; Armstrong,
Robert G. 6 sound tape reels. Folk music. Masks. Oral tradition. War songs. Ifa. 72–245–F.
Nigeria, Benue Province, Various groups, 1964–1965. Rubin, Barbara; Rubin, Arnold. 14 sound
tape reels. Jukun. Chamba. Yergum. Kutep. Rites. Ceremonies. 67–122–F.
Nigeria, Bornu province, Maiduguri, Kanuri, 1956. Cohen, Ronald. 1 sound tape reel. Folk songs.
Harvest festivals. Praise songs. 60–035–F.
Nigeria, Cameroon, Yoruba and Babinga, 1939. Unknown. 1 sound disc. Folk songs. Folk music.
87–163–F.
Nigeria, Dahomey and Togoland, Ashanti, Yoruba, and Fon, 1931. Herskovits, Melville J.;
Herskovits, Frances S. 242 cylinders. War songs. Praise songs. Proverbs. Lullabies. Work
songs. 67–152–F.
Appendix
1078
Nigeria, East Central and Benue Plateau State, 1973–1975. Lambrecht, Frank; Lambrecht, Dora. 4
sound cassettes. Xylophone music. Dance music. Rites and ceremonies. 75–191– B/F
Nigeria, Ibadan, 1971. Armstrong, Robert G. 1 sound tape reel. Folk music. Folk songs. 72–247–F.
Nigeria, Ibadan, Yoruba, 1967–1969. Peek, Philip M. 1 sound tape reel. Folk songs. Cult music.
Popular music. Cults. 72–080–F.
Nigeria, Ibadan, Yoruba, 1970. Armstrong, Robert G. 2 sound tape reels. Theater. Title “Love of
Money.” Musical performance. 72–238–F.
Nigeria, Ife, c. 1960. Armstrong, Robert G. 3 sound tape reels. Chants. Divination. 72–243–F.
Nigeria, Igbo and Yoruba, 1943. Northwestern University. 14 sound discs. Igbo. Yoruba. Nigeria.
Songs. Funeral music. 76–169–F/C.
Nigeria, Igbo, 1939. Unknown. 5 sound discs. Songs. War songs. War dance. 87–162–F.
Nigeria, Igbo, 1963–1964. Ames, David W. 18 sound tape reels. Praise songs. Funeral music.
Hymns. Highlife. 68–245–F.
Nigeria, Igbo, 1975–1976. Ames, David; Eze, Samuel. 23 sound tape reels. Rites. Ceremonies.
Funerals. Hymns. Highlife. 78–165–F.
Nigeria, Imo State, Igbo and Ijaw, 1977–1978. Aronson, Lisa. 12 sound cassettes. Oral tradition.
Music. Rites. Funeral tires. Cults. 80–008–F.
Nigeria, Imo, Ohafia, Ebem, Akanu, Igbo, 1989. McCall, John. 8 sound cassettes. Burial
ceremonies. Funerals. Rites. Rituals. Ceremonies. 90–228–F.
Nigeria, Jos Plateau, Birom, Challa, Chip, Hausa, Mushere, Ngas, Pyem, Rumada, 1975–1976.
Tambo, David C. 104 sound cassettes. Oral history. Iron workers. Interviews. 77–079–F.
Nigeria, Kano, 1974. Rhodes, Willard. 43 sound tape reels. Songs. Fula. Hausa. Yoruba. Tuaregs.
Tiv. 75–020–F.
Nigeria, Kano, Fulani and Hausa, 1975. Armer, Michael. 2 sound cassettes. Oral history. Fula. Folk
songs. Folk music. 76–180–F.
Nigeria, Kano, Hausa Muslims, 1968–1970. Besmer, Fremont E. 79 sound tape reels. Court music.
Festivals. Ramadan. Praise songs. 70–091–F.
Nigeria, Kano, Hausa, 1965–1980. Mack, Beverly. 50 sound tape reels. Women. Wedding music.
Ramadan. Songs. Rites. Poetry. 81–100–F/B.
Nigeria, Kano, Hausa, Fulani, 1992–1994. Hutson, Alaine S. 57 sound cassettes. Islamic religious
rituals. Education of women. Interviews. 92–262–F/B.
Nigeria, Katsina and Zaria, Hausa, 1963–1964. Ames, David W.; King, Anthony V. 92 sound tape
reels. Fula. Yoruba. Epic poetry. Folk songs. Work songs. 71–258–F.
Nigeria, Madagali District, Gulak Village, Margi and Vengo, 1960. Vaughan, James Herbert. 1
sound tape reel. Interview. Songs. Folk music. 75–056–F.
Nigeria, Madagali District, Gulak Village, Margi, 1960. Vaughan, James Herbert. 1 sound tape
reel. Funerals. Rites. Ceremonies. 75–053–F.
Nigeria, Madagali District, Gulak Village, Margi, 1960. Vaughan, James Herbert. 3 sound tape
reels. Folk songs. Oral history. 75–054–F.
Nigeria, Madagali District, Gulak Village, Margi, 1960. Vaughan, James Herbert. 3 sound tape
reels. Marriage rites. Puberty rites. Linguistics. Oral history. 75–055–F.
Nigeria, Ningi Town, Various culture groups, 1972–1974. Patton, Adell. 29 sound cassettes. Fula.
Hausa. War songs. Oral history. Harvest songs. 75–175–F.
Nigeria, Ole, Isoko, 1970–1971. Peek, Philip M. 71 sound cassettes. Interviews, oral histories,
religious services, music, festivals, musicians, carvers and diviners.
Nigeria, Oshgbo, Yoruba, 1966. Speed, Frank. 5 sound tape reels. Chants. Rites. Divination. Ifa.
72–241–F.
Nigeria, Oshogbo, Yoruba, 1970. Gleason, Judith Illsley. 8 sound tape reels. Ifa. Cults. 73–002–F.
Nigeria, Oyo province, Yoruba, 1971. Ambimbola, Wande. 2 sound tape reels. Hunters. Chants.
Praise songs. Gods. 71–302–F.
Appendix
1079
Nigeria, Sierra Leone, Togo, various, 1952–1960. Turner, Lorenzo Dow. 267 sound discs. Work
songs. Lullabies. Praise songs. Love songs. Slavery. Rites. Poetry. Proverbs. Tales. Riddles.
Prayers. 86–110a/b–F.
Nigeria, Tiv and Yorubas, c. 1955. Sowande, Fela. 3 sound tape reels. Folk music. Proverbs. Praise
songs. Drum language. 57–033–F.
Nigeria, various provinces, various languages, 1953. Wolff, Hans. 1 sound tape reel. Niger Delta
languages. Anthropological Linguistics. 85–703–F.
Nigeria, Western region, Yoruba, 1966. Speed, Francis; Thieme, Darius L. 1 sound tape reel. Drum
language. Proverbs. 66–226– F.
Nigeria, Western State, Oyo, Yoruba, 1972 and 1975. Ajuwon, Bade. 5 sound tape reels. Hunters.
Folklore. Dirges. Funerals. 76–159–F.
Nigeria, Western State, Yoruba, 1965. Armstrong, Robert G. 2 sound tape reels. Operas. Oral
tradition. Masks. 72–246–F.
Nigeria, Western State, Yoruba, 1967. Armstrong, Robert G. 3 sound tape reels. Funeral rites.
Dirges. Praise songs. Chants. 72–239–F.
Nigeria, Wurno, Takai, Dambatta, Hausa and Fulani, 1985. Philips, John E. 24 sound cassettes.
Occupations. Poetry. Cities. 94–006– F.
Nigeria, Yoruba, 1939. Unknown. 1 sound disc. Linguistics. Yoruba. 87–159–F.
Nigeria, Yoruba, 1952. Waterman, Richard. 1 sound disc. Yoruba. Language. Linguistics. 87–133–
F.
Nigeria, Yoruba, 1974–1975. Wolff, Norma Hackleman. 31 sound tape reels. Medicine. Healing.
Drum music. Shango. 75–178–F.
Nigeria, Yoruba, Sango, 1970–1971. Welch, David B. 38 sound tape reels. Rites and ceremonies.
Epic poetry. Shango. Praise songs. 74–003–F.
Nigeria, Zaria and Niger Provinces, Hausa, 1963–1964. Ames, David W. 9 sound tape reels.
Singing games. Children’s songs. Folk music. War songs. 72–232–F.
Nigeria, Zaria Province, Hausa, 1963–1964. Ames, David W. 4 sound tape reels. Work songs.
Wedding music. Singing games. Children’s songs. 66–052–F.
Nigeria, Zaria, Bornu and Delta Provinces, 1953–1954. Wolff, Hans. 7 sound tape reels. Funeral
rites. Hymns. Praise songs. 59–015–F.
Nigeria, Zaria, Hausa, 1966. Ben-Amos, Dan. 3 sound tape reels. Folklore. Riddles. Proverbs.
Tales. 70–105–F.
Nyasaland
Nyasaland, 1929. Boulton, Laura. 1 sound tape reel. Malawi. Ngoni. Bhaca. Folk songs. Folk
music. 92–311–F.
Rhodesia
Rhodesia and South Africa, 1948. Tracey, Hugh; Camp, Charles M. 20 sound tape reels.
Zimbabwe. Folk tales. Songs. Hymns. Mbira. 54–171–F.
Rhodesia, Shona, Korekore and Zezuru, 1972–1973. Kaemmer, John E. 64 sound tape reels.
Zimbabwe. Mbira music. Songs. Rites. Ceremonies. Folklore. 74–061–F.
Senegal
Senegal and Gambia, Mandinka, Serer and Fula, 1974–1975. Wright, Donald R. 40 sound cassettes.
Oral history. Folk music. History. 75–185–F.
Appendix
1080
Senegal, 1971. Tolley, Dayna. 1 sound tape reel. Folklore. Love songs. Tales. Praise songs. 77–
145–F.
Senegal, Baila, Diola, 1990. Gero, Glen. 2 sound cassettes. Linguistics. Songs. Diola-Fogny. 91–
302–F.
Senegal, Bondu Province, Soninke, Mandingo, Fula, and Dyula, 1966. Curtin, Philip D. 37 sound
tape reels. Genealogies. Children’s songs. Chants. Fables. 67–096–F.
Senegal, Cap Vert, Louga, and St. Louis Provinces, 1992–1993. McNee, Lisa. 25 sound cassettes.
Wolof. Islamic poetry. Baptism. Sufi poetry. Interviews. Women. Wolof poetry. 94–004–F.
Senegal, Eastern Senegal, 1966. Curtin, Philip D. 23 sound tape reels. Toucouleur. Soninke. Oral
history. Folk music. 68–228–F.
Senegal, Futa Toro and Dakar, Fulahs, 1968–1969. Robinson, David Wallace. 83 sound cassettes.
Oral history. History. Customs. 70–094–F.
Senegal, Kajor, Wolof, 1969 Colvin, Lucie. 2 sound tape reels. Oral tradition. Interviews. History.
86–104–F.
Senegal, Kaolack, 1963. Klein, Martin. 6 sound tape reels. Oral histories. Interviews. Broadcasts.
Radio. 74–099–B/F.
Senegal, Linguere, Wolof, 1970–1971. Charles, Eunice. 12 sound tape reels. Oral history.
Interviews. History. 73–004–F.
Senegal, Lower Casamance Region, Diola-Fogny, 1960–1965. Sapir, J. David 71 sound tape reels.
Folk songs. Work songs. Children’s songs. Rites. Oral history. 70–103–F.
Senegal, Lower Casamance Region, Diola-Kasa, 1966. Sapir, J. David 6 sound tape reels. Folk
music. Funeral rites. Ceremonies. Folklore. 70–104–F.
Senegal, Sine-Saloum, Wolofs, Fulbe and Tukolor, 1974–1975. Klein, Martin. 37 sound cassettes.
Fula. Toucouleur. Oral history. Family. Villages. 75–058–F.
Senegal, Wolofs, 1963–1964. Coifman, Victoria Bomba 9 sound tape reels. Oral tradition. Songs.
History. 71–413–F.
Sierra Leone
Sierra Leone, 1964–1967. Oven, Cootje van. 6 sound tape reels. Fula. Mende. Mandingo. Temne.
Limba. 68–215–F.
Sierra Leone, Bombali District, Lima, Creoles, and Temne, 1971. Bahman, Gary. 6 sound cassettes.
Funeral rites. Children’s songs. Work songs. Folk music. 72–231–F.
Sierra Leone, c. 1950 Allen, Leonard E. 1 sound tape reel. Folk tales. Folklore. Pidgin English. 73–
059–F.
Sierra Leone, Eastern Province, Kenema, Mende, 1988. Conner, Diane. 1 sound cassette. Dance
music. Songs. Rites. Ceremonies. 88–084–F.
Sierra Leone, Freetown, 1950–1969. Ware, Naomi. 74 sound tape reels. Yoruba. Fanti. Bambara.
Igbo. Bassa. Creoles. Fula. Kissi. Limba. Mandingo. Temne. Vai. Gola. 70–041–F/C.
Sierra Leone, Freetown, 1969. Ware, Naomi. 6 sound tape reels. Jazz. Popular Music. Music
festivals. 70–045–F.
Sierra Leone, Freetown, 1969. Edwards, Betty. 2 sound tape reels. Creoles. Church music. Nursery
Rhymes. Songs. 70–046–F.
Sierra Leone, Freetown, Creoles, 1973–1974. Broderick, Sundiata Modupe. 6 sound tape reels.
Creoles. Songs. Oral tradition. Tales. 85–488–F.
Sierra Leone, Freetown, Mende and Temne, 1967–1968. Johnson, Gerald T. 62 sound tape reels.
Children’s songs. Folk tales. Folk songs. Oral history. 73–055–F.
Sierra Leone, Mende, 1949. Williams, Charles. 1 sound disc. Mende. Language. Linguistics.
Dictionaries. 87–134–F.
Sierra Leone, Mende, 1988. Harris, Laura. 3 sound cassettes. Folk music. Work songs. Death
songs. Tales. 88–071–F/C.
Appendix
1081
Sierra Leone, Northern Province, Kabala, Mandingo, 1986. Harris, Laura. 3 sound cassettes.
Children’s songs. Oral tradition. Praise songs. 86–160–F.
Sierra Leone, Northern Province, Koinadugu district, Maninka, 1987–88. Harris, Laura. 55 sound
cassettes. Praise songs. Work songs. Dance music. Interviews. 88–072–F.
Sierra Leone, Southern Province, Mende, 1973–1974. Cosentino, Donald. 24 sound tape reels.
Tales. Oral narratives. 82–526–F.
Sierra Leone, Temne, 1966–1967. Geoffrion, Charles A. 2 sound tape reels. Chants. Tales.
Ramadan. Rites. Ceremonies. 70–150– F.
Somalia
Somali Republic, Mogadiscio, Baijuni, 1962. Williams, Chester S. 1 sound tape reel. Somalia.
Swahili. Songs. 65–136–F.
Somalia, 1966–1969. Johnson, John William. 78 sound tape reels. Love poetry. Political poetry.
Wiglos. Hees. 70–151–F.
Somalia, 1976–1980. Abdillahi Deria Guled 21 sound cassettes. Folk songs. Politics. Poetry. 81–
053–F.
Somalia, 1980. Johnson, John William. 20 sound tape reels. Folk music. Language. Poets. 81–050–
F.
Somalia, 1980. Abdillahi Deria Guled 10 sound cassettes. Oral tradition. Folk songs. Praise poetry.
Tales. 81–054–F/B.
Somalia, 1983. Johnson, John William. 1 sound tape reel. African poetry. Modern poetry. Heellos.
84–277–F.
Somalia, 1989. Ali Abokor, Ahmad; Johnson, John 4 sound cassettes. Poetry. 89–097–F.*
Somalia, Mogadishu, 1989. Johnson, John William. 8 sound cassettes. Poetry. 89–096–F.
Somalia, Mogadishu, Afgooye, 1987. Johnson, John William. 102 sound cassettes. Somali. Poetry.
89–058–F.
Somalia, Somalis, 1958–1991. Andrzejewski, Bogumi Witalis. 152 sound tape reels. Islam.
Theater. Literacy. Proverbs. Tales. Music. Language. Poetry. Songs. Koran. Interviews. History.
Politics. Social customs. 92–184–F/B.
Somalia, Somalis, 1980. Johnson, John William. 14 sound cassettes. Poetry. Festivals. Gubu.
Gabays. Oral tradition. Interviews. 80–205–F/C.
Somalis, 1964–1994. BBC Somali Service. 207 sound cassettes. Interviews. History. Politics.
Government. Poetry. Stories. 95.387–001B through 95–387.207B. The BBC Somalia Speech
Archive consists primarily of poetry and interviews with historical personalities from a wide
range of social and occupational backgrounds. The collection also contains stories, histories,
linguistic materials, discussions of literature, and biographical and cultural information. The
BBC used these materials for many of its broadcasts, and the tapes themselves, along with the
tapes of the BBC Somali Music Archive (see next entry) comprise perhaps the largest collection
of Somali materials in the world. While all the tapes are of Somali poets and personalities, the
recordings were made in a variety of locations, including Somalia, Kenya, England, Yemen,
Ethiopia, Dijibouti, and others.
Somalia, Hargeisa and Mogadishu; Dijibouti; Ethiopia, Somalis. 1947–1991. BBC Somali Service.
194 sound cassettes. Songs. Oral poetry. 94–228.001–B through 94–228.194–B. The BBC
Somali Music Archive consists of oral poetry and a variety of musical genres created by various
performers, composers, and lyricists.
South Africa
South Africa, 1964–1974. Carter, Gwendolen Margaret. 9 sound tape reels. Speeches. Politics.
Race relations. Interviews. 76–027– B/F
Appendix
1082
South Africa, Cape Town, Xhosa, 1965. Versfeld, Barbara. 3 sound tape reels. Tales. Folk songs.
66–237–F.
South Africa, Johannesburg and other locations, 1960–1965. Carter, Gwendolen Margaret. 26
sound tape reels. African National Congress. History. Nationalism. Politics. Government. 92–
045– F.
South Africa, Kwa Zulu, Zulus, 1982. Erlmann, Veit. 1 sound tape reel. Songs. Folk music.
Musical bow music. 85–524–F.
South Africa, Natal, Nongoma, Kwazulu, Zulu, 1983. Impey, Angela. 9 sound cassettes. Guitar
music. Musicians. Interviews. Bow music. 88–106–F.
South Africa, Tswana, 1966–67. Watkins, Mark Hanna. 8 sound tape reels. Tswana language. 89–
092–F.
South Africa, various cultures, 1970. Boulton, Laura. 1 sound tape reel. Interviews. Description.
Travel. 92–522–F.
South Africa, Zulu, 1940. Unknown. 1 sound disc. Linguistics. Interview. Zulu language. 87–153–
F.
South Africa, Zulu, 1954. Unknown. 1 sound disc. Zulu. Language. Linguistics. 87–131–F.
South Africa, Ovamboland, Mbundu, 1955. Boulton, Laura. 1 sound tape reel. Angola. Customs.
Social life. 92–360–F.
Sudan
Sudan, Gaaliin, 1970–1971. Hurreiz, Sayed Hamid A. 9 sound tape reels. Arabs. Epic poetry.
Muslim saints. Storytelling. 71–012–F.
Sudan, Nilotic region, Dinka, 1962–1972. Deng, Francis Mading. 24 sound tape reels. War songs.
Hunting songs. Hymns. Folk songs. Praise songs. 73–051–F.
Sudan, Republic of
Republic of Sudan, 1963. Carlisle, Roxane. 1 sound tape reel. Sudan. War songs. Rites. Wedding
music. Epic songs. 66–185–D.
Tanzania
Tanzania, 1965. Morgenthau, Henry. 15 sound tape reels. Lectures. Speeches. Politics.
Government. 71–017–F.
Tanzania, Mbulu and Muray, Iraqw, 1975–1976. Thornton, Robert. 1 sound tape reel. Prayers. Oral
tradition. Poetry. 81–009–F.
Tanzania, Ukerewe Island, Kerebe, 1968–1969. Hartwig, Gerald W. 7 sound tape reels. Singing
games. Children’s songs. National songs. Bow music. 69–017–F.
Togo
Togo, Southern Togo, Ewe, 1965–1967. Agudze-Vioka, Bernard. 4 sound tape reels. Drum
language. Folk songs. War songs. 68–248–F.
Uganda
Uganda, Buganda, Ganda, 1964–1968. Cooke, Peter. 1 sound tape reel. Flute music. Folk songs.
Court music. 71–256–F.
Appendix
1083
Uganda, Bugembe, various groups, 1965–1968. Cooke, Peter. 16 sound cassettes. Work songs.
Mbira music. Court music. Healers. Spirituals. Protest songs. Christmas music. Flute music. 92–
007– F.
Uganda, Busoga, Kawete, Bunhyiro, 1988. Cooke, Peter. 14 sound tape reels. Songs. Rites.
Ceremonies. Healing. Spirit possession. Wrestling. 91–246–F.
Uganda, Kampala, Ganda, Soga, Nyankore, 1987. Cooke, Peter. 16 sound tape reels. Instrumental
music. Songs. Choral music. Hymns. Children’s songs. 86–106–F.
Uganda, Kampala, Iru, Ganda, Soga, 1990. Cooke, Peter. 4 sound tape reels. Songs. Recitations.
Instrumental music. 91–209–F.
Uganda, Karamojong, 1967. Coleman, Milton. 1 sound tape reel. Folk songs. 68–290–F.
United States
United States, 1977. Tejeda, Felipe. 5 sound tape reels. Gambia. Senegal. Mandingo. Folk songs.
78–007–F.
United States, California, Berkeley, 1969. Dalby, David. 1 sound tape reel. Lectures. “The role of
the linguist in the reconstruction of African prehistory.” Historical linguistics. Africa history.
69–019–F.
United States, California, Davis, Zairians. Crowley, Daniel J. 1 sound tape reel. Congo. Folktales.
Interview. Kinshasa. 73–069– F.
United States, California, Igbo, 1968. Peek, Philip M. 1 sound tape reel. Interview. Folklore. Tales.
Oral tradition. 69–195–F.
United States, Columbia University, 1969. Boulton, Laura. 2 sound tape reels. Lecture. Ethiopia.
Christmas music. 92–442–F.
United States, Connecticut, New Haven, 1934. Herzog, George. 1 sound disc. Zulu. Language.
Linguistics. 87–098–F.
United States, Illinois, Chicago, 1933–1934. Boulton, Laura. 2 sound tape reels. Hastings Kamazu
Banda. Congo. Malawi. Nigeria. Chokwe. Hausa. Ngoni. Music. 92–315–F.
United States, Illinois, Chicago, Chewa, c. 1940 Andrade, Manuel Jose; Herzog, George. 3 sound
discs. Hastings Kamazu Banda. Puberty rites. Funeral music. Folk songs. Lullabies. 54–233–F.
United States, Illinois, Chicago, Gweabo, 1929. Herzog, George. 16 cylinders. Jabo. Linguistics.
Songs. Proverbs. 83–918–F.
United States, Illinois, Chicago, Jabo, 1929. Herzog, George. 1 cylinder. Folk songs. Prayers. 54–
224–F.
United States, Illinois, Chicago, Jabo, 1931. Herzog, George; Andrade, Manuel. 10 sound discs.
Jabo. Linguistics. 85–546–F.
United States, Illinois, Evanston, Ibo, 1943. Okala, J. 4 sound discs. Songs. Proverbs. Tales. 87–
132–F.
United States, Indiana University, 1987. Seeger, Anthony. 1 sound cassette. Lecture. Performance.
Alain Barker. 87–046–F.
United States, Indiana University, 1987. Richardson, Susan. 1 sound cassette. Nigeria.
Performance. Folksongs. Highlife. 87–102–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, Lukas, Scott. 1 sound cassette. Nigeria. Songs. Efik. Hausa.
Yoruba. Nigeria. 89–208–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, 1960. Voegelin, F.M. 6 sound tape reels. Afrikaans.
Linguistics. 85–665–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, 1965–1970. Unknown. 11 sound tape reels. Ethiopia. Sudan.
Linguistics. 85–697–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, 1969. Dalby, David. 1 sound tape reel. Mandingo. Lectures.
69–012–F.
Appendix
1084
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, 1969. Archives of Traditional Music. 1 sound tape reel.
Lecture. Series: “Focus on Black America.” Yoruba. Race identity. 69–328–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, 1969. Barrett, David B. 2 sound tape reels. Lectures. “New
religious movements in Africa and African responses to Christianity.” Religions. Christianity.
69–331–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, 1971. Gillis, Frank. 1 sound tape reel. Lecture. Hugh Tracy.
International Library of African Music. 71–308–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, 1975. Keim, Karen Ruth King. 1 sound tape reel. Lecture. Dr.
Charles Bird. “The Hero in Mande Epic.” 75–043–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, 1975. Gordon, Meryl. 1 sound cassette. Lecture. Judith
Hannah. “Stereotypes and realities of African dance.” 75–045–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, 1975. Gillis, Frank. 1 sound cassette. Interview. James H.
Vaughan Jr. Nigeria. 75–052–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, 1975. Arom, Simha. 2 sound cassettes. Lecture: “Emic and
Etic Analysis Using Polyphonic Recording Techniques.” 76–124–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, 1978. Indiana University News Bureau 2 sound cassettes.
Malawi. Speech. Press conference. Dr. Hastings Kamuzu Banda. 86–068–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, 1988. Archives of Traditional Music. 1 sound cassette.
Concert. West Africa. Percussion. 88–026–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, 1989. Harris, Laura. 1 sound cassette. Ibo. Mandinka. Folk
songs. 89–021–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, 1989. Chernoff, John. 2 sound cassettes. Workshop. Lecture.
Drumming. 89–037–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, 1989. Lukas, Scott. 1 sound cassette. Zimbabwe. Mbira
music. Tales. 89–202–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, 1990. Lukas, Scott. 1 sound cassette. Folk songs. 91–371–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, 1991. Stonefelt, Kay. 1 sound cassette. Buganda. Music.
Xylophone. 91–369–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, 1991. O’Meara, Patrick. 7 sound cassettes. Africa. Politics.
Civilization. Conference. 92–065–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, 1992. Barnes, Dr. Sandra. 2 sound cassettes. Lecture. Series:
“Women and Power in Africa.” Women. Politics. Benin. Nigeria. 92–041–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, 1992. Feeley-Harnik, Gillian 2 sound cassettes. Lecture.
Series: “Women and Power in Africa.” Madagascar. Women. Politics. 92–042–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, 1992. Thompson, Bob. 1 sound cassette. Concert. Igbo.
Mandingo. Popular music. 92–076–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, 1992. Manuh, Takyiwa. 2 sound cassettes. Lecture. Series:
“Women and Power in Africa.” 92–079–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, 1992. Suzman, Helen. 1 sound cassette. Interview. Politics.
South Africa. Progressive Party. 92–083–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, 1992. Irvine, Dr. Judith 2 sound cassettes. Lecture Series:
“Women and Power in Africa.” Title: “Language, Ritual, and Power: A Wolof Wedding
Ceremony.” 92–101–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, 1992. Yiadomi, Nana. 1 sound cassette. Lecture Series:
“Women and Power in Africa.” Title: “A Queen Mother at the U.N.” 92–109–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, 1992. Kalumbu, Isaac. 1 sound cassette. Zimbabwe. Reggae
music. 92–185–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, 1992. Smith, Chris; Stonefelt, Kay. 1 sound cassette. Taarab.
Popular music. 92–193–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, 1996. Asiama, Dr. Simeon. 1 sound cassette. Ghana. Music.
Highlife. Popular music. Church music. 96–381–F.
Appendix
1085
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, Bantu, 1958–1962. Redden, James; Simpson, Al. 10 sound
tape reels. Lingala. Bulu. Luhya. Linguistics. 85–710–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, Grebo, 1958. Maring, Joel. 6 sound tape reels. Grebo.
Linguistics. 85–705–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, Hausa, 1950–1970. Wurm, S.A. 1 sound tape reel. Hausa.
Linguistics. 85–699–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, Ibo, 1950–1951. Nettl, Bruno; Raben, Joseph. 3 sound tape
reels. Children’s Songs. War songs. Folk songs. 54–182–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, Kikamba, 1957–58. Madigan, Robert. 19 sound tape reels.
Kikamba. Linguistics. 85–711–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, Kikuyu, 1951–1961. Redden, James. 8 sound tape reels.
Kikuyu. Linguistics. 85–712–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, Kwa, 1956–1964. Redden, James; Brown, Herbert; West,
Lamont; Hopkins, Jerry; Black, Paul. 12 sound tape reels. Kwa. Linguistics. 85–706–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, Luo, 1959. Redden, James; Fraenkel, Gerd; Hung, Beverly. 8
sound tape reels. Luo. Linguistics. 85–700–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, Malawian, 1989. Lukas, Scott. 1 sound cassette. Lecture.
Recital. Folk music. 89–093–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, Malian, 1990. Lukas, Scott. 1 sound cassette. Mali. Griots.
91–172–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, Ndebele and Zulu, 1957–1958. Leuschel, Don. 6 sound tape
reels. Ndebele. Zulu. Linguistics. 85–715–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, Nigerians, 1967. Dorson, Richard Mercer. 1 sound tape reel.
Interviews. Ballads. Proverbs. Oral history. 67–220–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, Nigerians, 1989. Harris, Laura. 1 sound cassette. Ibo. Hausa.
Efik. Yoruba. Edo. Songs. 89–023–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, Shona, 1989. Mujuru, Ephat. 6 VHS cassettes. Lecture.
Workshop. Mbira. Mbira music. 89–094–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, Somali, 1959. Maring, Joel. 4 sound tape reels. Somali.
Linguistics. 85–698–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, Tonga/Bantu, 1959–1960. Redden, James. 7 sound tape reels.
Tonga. Bantu. Linguistics. 85–714–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, Twi, 1960–1967. Redden, James; Reibel, David; Blair,
Robert; Stevick, Earl; Warren, Dennis. 75 sound tape reels Twi. Linguistics. Akim. Ashanti.
Akwapem. 85–704–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, Yoruba, 1949. Riggs, Venda. 2 sound tape reels. Yoruba.
Linguistics. 85–707–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington, Zambians, 1970. Gillis, Frank. 2 sound cassettes. Lectures.
“Music of Zambia.” Folk music. Folk songs. 70–087–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington. Gillis, Frank J., Spear, Louise S. 2 sound cassettes. Nigeria.
Traditional music. Akin Euba (lecture) 79–112–F.*
United States, Indiana, Bloomington. 1954. Hickerson, Nancy; Hymes, Virginia; Keller, James. 17
sound tape reels. Tigrinya. Linguistics. 85–694–F.
United States, Indiana, Bloomington. 1997. Archives of Traditional Music. 4 sound cassettes.
Ghana. Oral heritage. Archives. Libraries. 97–226–F.*
United States, Indiana, Nashville, 1991. O’Meara, Patrick. 8 sound cassettes. Conference. Title:
“Political Reform and Democratization in South Africa.” 92–066–F.
United States, Mende, 1979. Sengova, Joko. 6 sound tape reels. Oral tradition. Proverbs. Hunting
stories. Marriage. 85–483–F.
United States, Michigan, Yoruba, 1960–1964. Wolff, Hans. 4 sound tape reels. Folk tales. Folklore.
72–236–F.
Appendix
1086
United States, New Jersey, Camden, c. 1930. Boas, Franz. 3 sound tape reels. Bollum. Kru. Twi.
Linguistics. Stories. 85–548–F.
United States, New York, Catskill Mountains, Nigerians, 1960. Cazden, Norman. 1 sound tape reel.
Nigeria. Folk music. Folk dance music. 64–015–F.
United States, New York, New York City, 1959. Boulton, Laura. 4 sound tape reels. Nigeria.
Gabon. Marimba music. Mbira music. 92–308–F.
United States, New York, New York City, 1963. LeMaster, Edwin. 1 sound tape reel. Spirituals.
Choruses. Hymns. 76–064–F.
United States, New York, New York City, 1963. Boulton, Laura. 3 sound tape reels. Interviews.
Laura Boulton. Angola. Nigeria. Mozambique. Mbira music. 92–528–F.
United States, New York, New York City, 1966. Boulton, Laura. 3 sound tape reels. Lecture.
Ethiopia. Byzantine music. 92–524–F.
United States, New York, New York City, 1967. Boulton, Laura. 1 sound tape reel. Ethiopia.
Music. Folk music. Amhara. 92–312– F.
United States, New York, New York City, 1968. Boulton, Laura. 5 sound tape reels. Musical
instruments. Mbira music. 92–485–F.
United States, New York, New York City, 1968. Boulton, Laura. 3 sound tape reels. Lecture.
Ethiopia. Music. Krar. Washint. Masenqo. 92–542–F.
United States, New York, New York City, 1969. Boulton, Laura. 2 sound tape reels. Sudan.
Musical instruments. Interviews. 92–486–F.
United States, New York, New York City, 1972. Boulton, Laura. 1 sound tape reel. East Africa.
Lectures. Songs. Dance music. 92–423–F.
United States, New York, New York City, Angolans, Mbundu, 1965. Boulton, Laura. 4 sound tape
reels. Interview. Laura Boulton. Angola. 92–361–F.
United States, New York, New York City, Nigerians, 1964. Boulton, Laura. 1 sound tape reel. Folk
songs. Folk music. Music. 92–318–F.
United States, New York, New York City, various cultures, 1958–1963. Boulton, Laura. 3 sound
tape reels. Lecture. Music. Mbira music. Xylophone music. Swaziland. Mozambique. 92–523–
F.
United States, New York, Yoruba, 1933. Boas, Franz. 3 sound discs. Folk songs. Folk tales. 54–
085–F.
United States, New York, Zulus, 1935. Henry, Jules. 2 sound discs. Folk songs. 54–008–F.
United States, New York?, Mende, 1933. Aginsky, Ethel G. 5 sound discs. Dwight Sumner. Sierra
Leone. Folk songs. 54–006–F.
United States, Office of Education, Gio, 1960. Griffes, Kenneth; Welmers, William. 10 sound tape
reels. Gio. Linguistics. 85–701–F.
United States, Ohio, Columbus; Indiana, Bloomington, 1958–1971. Hale, Kenneth; Redden, James;
Sapon, Stanley. 11 sound tape reels. Arabic. Linguistics. 85–694–F.
United States, Pennsylvania, Pittsburgh, Dahomeans, 1970. Smoley, Robert A. 2 sound tape reels.
Folk dance music. Folk music. Rites. Ceremonies. 70–127–F.
United States, various cultures, 1978. Boulton, Laura. 2 sound tape reels. Interviews. Angola.
Music. Puberty rites. Ceremonies. Customs. 92–532–F.
United States, Virginia, Zulus, and Vandau, c. 1915–1918. Natalie Curtis Burlin. 16 cylinders.
Songs. Laments. Puberty rites. Slaves. Rain songs. Love songs. 54–065–F.
United States, Washington D.C.; Ohio, Columbus; Mande, 1957–1962. Redden, James; Sapon,
Stanley. 6 sound tape reels. Bambara. Susu. Yalunka. Linguistics. 85–702–F.
United States, Wisonsin, Madison, 1966. Snyder, Emile. 1 sound tape reel. South Africa. Lectures.
Politics. Apartheid. Poets. Race relations. 71–015–F.
Appendix
1087
Various and Unknown Locations
Unknown location, 1960. Boulton, Laura. 8 sound tape reels. Book. “The Abixi (Masked) from
Northeast Angola.” Masks. Angola. 92–316–F.
Unknown location, 1962. Boulton, Laura. 2 sound tape reels. Benin. Music. Worship. 92–428–F.
Unknown location, African people, 1940–1980. Boulton, Laura. 1 sound tape reel. Interviews.
Lampblack. Customs. Social life. 92–362–F.
Unknown location, African, 1969. Boulton, Laura. 1 sound tape reel. Angola. Flute music. Mbira
music. 92–438–F.
Unknown location, Angolans, 1969. Boulton, Laura. 3 sound tape reels. Angola. Mozambique.
Music. 92–437–F.
Unknown location, Kuanyama Ambo, 1948–1960. Boulton, Laura. 5 sound tape reels. Rites.
Ceremonies. Angola. Namibia. Puberty rites. 92–479–F.
Unknown location, Ovimbundu, unknown date. Boulton, Laura. 2 sound tape reels. Songs. Angola.
Tales. Music. 92–359–F.
Unknown location, various cultures, 1950–1980. Boulton, Laura. 1 sound tape reel. Mozambique.
Music. Warn horn calls. 92–537– F.
Unknown location, various cultures, 1960–1972. Boulton, Laura. 5 sound tape reels. Mozambique.
Xylophone music. Mbira music. War horn calls. Kora music. 92–519–F.
Unknown location, various cultures, 1960–1980. Boulton, Laura. 1 sound tape reel. Music. Africa.
Ethiopia. Harp music. Mbira music. Flute music. Musical bow music. 92–516–F.
Unknown location, various cultures, 1964. Boulton, Laura. 1 sound tape reel. Music. Swaziland.
Angola. Mbira music. Nigeria. Xylophone music. 92–466–F.
Unknown location, Zulu, 1950–1959. Harley, George. 1 sound tape reel. Zulu. Linguistics. 85–
713–F.
Unknown, Ethiopians, 1960 (?) Boulton, Laura. 4 sound tape reels. Music. Songs. Dance music.
92–398–F.
Unknown, Ethiopians, 1960 (?) Boulton, Laura. 1 sound tape reel. Music. World music. 92–434–F.
Unknown, Ethiopians, 1960 (?) Boulton, Laura. 1 sound tape reel. Music. Africa. 92–450–F.
Unknown, Ethiopians, 1960 (?) Boulton, Laura. 1 sound tape reel. World music. Ethiopia. Mbira
music. Musical bow music. Angola. Flute music. War horn calls. Harp music. 92–516–F.
Unknown, Ethiopians, 1960 (?) Boulton, Laura. 1 sound tape reel. World music. Ethiopia.
Mozambique. Xylophone music. 92–518–F.
Unknown, Gwa, 1970–1971. Unknown. 13 sound tape reels. Gwa. Linguistics. 85–709–F.
Unknown locations, Sahara Desert, Tuareg, no date. Card, Caroline. 2 sound tape reels. Tuaregs.
Music. Sahara. Folklore. 78–019–F.
Unknown locations, Sahara Desert, Tuaregs, 1970–1978? Card, Caroline. 1 sound tape reel.
Tuaregs. Music. Sahara. 78–020–F.
Unknown African locations, 1972. Boulton, Laura. 1 sound tape reel. Musical bow music. War
horn calls. Mbira. Drum music. 92–517–F.
Various locations, various ethnic groups, 1972. Boulton, Laura. 1 sound tape reel. Fiddle music.
Kora music. Mbira music. Drum music. War horn calls. Musical bow music. 92–465–F.
Various, Berlin Phonogramm Archiv Demonstration Collection, 1900–1913. Von Hornbostel,
Erich. 120 cylinders. Music. Africa. Tunisia. Cameroon. Congo. Sudan. 83–899–F.
Various, c. 1955. Bush, Ed. 11 sound tape reels. Folk songs. Zulu. Drum language. 57–016–B/C/F.
Various locations, various ethnic groups, c. 1950–1967. Lloyd, A.L. 2 sound tape reels. Folk songs.
International folk music. 68–207–F.
Various locations, various ethnic groups. 1973–1978. Nichols, Lee. 175 sound tape reels.
Interviews with African writers. 96–284.1– B through 96–284.83–F/B. The Lee Nichols
collection consists of a series of interviews with 83 African writers. The tapes were broadcast on
Appendix
1088
Voice of America and selected interviews were published in Conversations with African Writers
(Washington, D.C.: Voice of America 1981) and African Writers at the Microphone
(Washington, D.C.: Three Continents Press 1984). The collection also includes photographs,
transcripts, correspondence with the writers, and biographical information. Interviews focus on
the authors and discussions of various literary topics related to their prose and poetry. The
collections represent the following countries: Botswana, Cameroon, Ethiopia, Gambia, Ghana,
Ivory Coast, Kenya, Lesotho, Liberia, Malawi, Nigeria, Sierra Leone, Somalia, South Africa,
Sudan, Swaziland, Tanzania, Uganda, Zambia, and Zimbabwe.
Various locations, Africans African Americans, 1962–1970. Duerden, Dennis. 198 sound tape
reels. Interviews. Lectures. Music. Poetry. Literature. 74–120a–F through 74–120z–F. The
Dennis Duerden collection consists primarily of interviews with African and African American
writers and musicians on topics including music, politics, law, literature, poetry, drama, and
other aspects of African culture. The countries covered by the collection include Cameroon,
Gambia, Ghana, Guinea, Guyana, Kenya, Malawi, Nigeria, South Africa, and Sierra Leone. The
collection also includes lectures presented in the United Kingdom and the United States.
West Africa, c. 1960–1970 Snyder, Emile. 26 sound tape reels. Ivory Coast. Senegal. Ghana.
Guinea. Cameroon. West Africa. Fula. Drum music. 85–486–F/B.
West Africa, French Sudan, and British Cameroons, 1934. Boulton, Laura. 21 sound tape reels.
Senegal. Mali. Niger. Dahomey. Liberia. Nigeria. Cameroon. Folk music. Folk songs. Wolof.
Mandingo. Bambara. Dogon. Fula. Songhai. Tuaregs. Toucouleur. Zarma. Hausa. Kru. Tiv.
Igbo. Kwiri. Bini. Yoruba. 92–313–F.
West Africa, Guinea Coast, 1949. Northwestern University. 21 sound tape reels. Folk music.
Drums. Bambara. Baule. Ewe. Fante. Ga. Igbo. Kissi. Mandingo. Mano. Mossi. Twi. Ashanti.
Liberia. Buzi. 68–214–F.
West Africa, West Africans, 1934. Boulton, Laura. 1 sound tape reel. Music. Hourglass drum
music. Riti music. 92–364–F.
Upper Volta
Upper Volta and Niger, Liptako and Tera, 1971–1976. Irwin, Paul. 21 sound tape reels. Oral
history. Burkina Faso. Oral tradition. 79–085–F.
Upper Volta, Bissa, Gourmantch, Kwo, 1973–1974. Merriam, Valerie. 57 sound tape reels. Burkina
Faso. Ceremonies. Oral history. Instrumental music. 74–069–F.
Upper Volta, Koupela, Mossi; Noura, Marka, and Fuebe, 1973. Merriam, Valerie; Rossellini,
James. 4 sound tape reels. Burkina Faso. Instrumental music. Rites. Ceremonies. 74–068–F.
Upper Volta, Ouagadougou, 1962. Redden, James. 16 sound tape reels. Mlore. Linguistics. 85–
708–F.
Zaire
Zaire, 1976–1981. Smith, Robert L. 21 sound tape reels. Oral history. Congo. 82–592–F.
Zaire, Bahemba, 1975–1979. Blakely, Thomas; Blakely, Pamela. 1 sound tape reel. Congo. Funeral
music. Rites. Work songs. 80–201–D.
Zaire, Bandundu, Suku, 1986. Smith, Robert E. 6 sound cassettes. Oral history. Kituba. History.
88–005–F.
Zaire, Batwa and Ekonda, 1971. Quersin, Benoit. 24 sound tape reels. Rites. Folk music. Children’s
songs. Death songs. 72–235– F.
Zaire, Bobangi, 1976. Harms, Robert W. 54 sound cassettes. Oral history. Language. Rites. Funeral
ceremonies. 79–027–F.
Zaire, Kivu Region, Bashi, 1970–1973. Sigwalt, Richard.; Sigwalt, Elinor. 51 sound cassettes.
Congo. Folk songs. Weddings. Oral history. 76–091–F.
Appendix
1089
Zaire, Luba, 1972. Studstill, John D. 8 sound tape reels. Epic poetry. Congo. Folklore. Oral
tradition. 73–003–F.
Zaire, Luba, 1972–1973. Reefe, Thomas Q. 12 sound tape reels. Congo. Oral history. Songs. Luba.
77–147–F.
Zaire, Mangbetu-Budu, 1973, 1976–1977. Keim, Curtis A.; Keim, Karen R. 114 sound cassettes.
Interviews. Women. History. Folk music. Dance music. 79–092–F.
Zaire, Mongo and Ekonda, 1970. Quersin, Benoit. 11 sound tape reels. Batwa. Rites. Ceremonies.
Mourning customs. Bobongo music. 72–254–F.
Zaire, Musanda, 1939. Unknown. 4 sound discs. Linguistics. Folk songs. 87–166–F.
Zaire, Rwanda, Cyangugu Prefecture, 1970–1971. Newbury, Catharine; Newbury, David S. 44
sound cassettes. Oral history. Songs. Instrumental music. 75–197–F.
Zaire, Tshilenge, Kabeya-Kamwanga, Baluba, 1974. Faik-Nzuji, C.; Feyes, P. Albert. 4 sound tape
reels. Congo. Luba. Songs. Rites. Ceremonies. 85–317–F.
Zaire. Keim, Curtis A.; Keim, Karen R. 3 sound cassettes. Radio broadcasts. 79–093–B.*
Zambia
Zambia, Northern Province, Bemba, 1975. Frost, Mary. 37 sound tape reels. Tales. 76–047–F.
Zanzibar
Zanzibar, c. 1958. Farsy, Muhammad Saleh Abdulla. 1 sound tape reel. Tanzania. Folk music.
Wedding music. Puberty rites. Initiation rites. 59–106–F.
Zanzibar. Allen, J.W.T.; Farsi, Abdullah Salih 10 sound tape reels. Tanzania. 88–073–F.*
Zimbabwe
Zimbabwe, c. 1978. Unknown. 2 sound tape reels. Shona. History. Ballads. Songs. Folk poetry. 85–
489–F.
Zimbabwe, Chichijunda, Shona, Ndebele, Xhosa, 1989–1991. Impey, Angela. 39 sound cassettes.
Women musicians. Popular music. Mbira music. Interviews. 97–011–F.*
Zimbabwe, Harare, Chikomba, Sadza, Shona, 1992–1993. Klassen, Doreen. 38 sound cassettes. 27
8mm video cassettes. Ngano. Storytelling. Marriage customs. Music. Education. 93–199–F.*
Zimbabwe, Harare, Shona, 1988–1990. Njoku, J. Akuma-Kalu. 51 sound cassettes. Church music.
Masses. Interviews. 90–324–F.
Zimbabwe, Harare, Shona, 1990. Stephens, Robert. 2 sound cassettes. 1 VHS video cassette.
Religious music. Church music. Choral music. 90–241–F.*
Zimbabwe, Mashonaland, Masvingo, and Manicaland, Shona, 1960–1963. Kauffman, Robert. 29
sound tape reels. Folk tales. Dance music. Work songs. Lullabies. Rituals. 89–209–F.
Zimbabwe, Shona, Njanja, 1984–1988. Dewey, William J. 1 video cassette. Iron smelting.
Ceremonial weapons. Ranga families. Interviews. 90–370–F.*
Zimbabwe, various locations, 1982. Kaemmer, John. 35 sound tape reels. Mbira music. Religious
songs. Secular songs. 02–030–F.
APPENDIX:
Filmography
See entry: Documentary Films and African Folklore
Abraham and the odd jobs (Abraham et les Petits Metiers). Director(s): Ahmed Diop (Senegal).
Senegal, 1996. 28 min. Prod.: Diop Système International. Diff: MMFF 96 / Bilan 1996.
Adama, the Fula Magician (Adama, le magicien Peul). Director : Jim Rosselini (USA). 22 min. 16
mm. Diff: Blue Ribbon Award, Am. Film Fest.
Africa I Remember: A Musical. 1995. Director: Paul Balmer. 30 min. MMFF 1996.
African Carving: a Dogon Kanaga Mask. Director: Eliot Elisofon, Mali, 1975, 19 min. Prod: Film
Study Center of Harvard University.
African King (The). Director: Nigels Evans (G–B). 1991. 40 min. 16 mm. Prod and Dist: Nigels
Evans. Diff: Bilan 1992.
African religions and ritual dances. 1971. 18 min. Prod. WCAUTV—University Museum,
Philadelphia—Olatunji Center of African Culture. Tell it like it was (Television program)
IMPRINT: New York: Carousel Films.
Africans (The). Narrator: Mazrui, Ali AlAmin. 1988. Prod. WETATV and BBC. I. Nature of a
continent. II. Legacy of lifestyles. III. New gods. IV. Tools of exploitation. V. New conflicts. VI.
In search of stability. VII. Garden of Eden in decay. VIII. Clash of cultures. IX. Global Africa.
1986. 9 X 60 min. IMPRINT: Santa Barbara, CA: Intellimation. LOCATION: Meyer Media
Center ZVC 2054 SERIES: The Annenberg/CPB Collection. WETA-TV (Television station:
Washington, D.C.). British Broadcasting Corporation. Television Service. Annenberg/CPB
Project.
Akum. Dir: Daniel Kamwa (Cameroon). Cameroon, 1978. 25 min. 16 mm. Prod: Daniel kamwa.
Dist. Audecam.
Alter Ego: Letters from a Doctor in Africa. Director(s): Hillie Molenaar and Joop Van Wijk (Hol).
43 min. 1986.
Ambara Dama. Director: Jean Rouch. Mali 1974, 60 min. Distr. CNRS (France). 16 mm.
Angano. Angano: Nouvelles de Madagascar (Tales from Madagascar). Dir. Marie-Clémence and
César Paes (Brazil). Madagascar, 1989. 64 min. Prod. Latent (Fr) Dist: San Francisco, CA:
California Newsreel.
A nous la rue. Director: Mustapha Dao (Burk. Faso). Burkina, 1987. 13 min. 16 mm. Prod: Diproci,
Burkina Faso. Dist. Audecam (Paris). Diff. Bilan 1988, MMFF 1988, Fespaco 1988.
Appunti per un ‘Orestiade Africana / scritto e diretto da Pier Paolo Pasolini; regia di Pier Paolo
Pasolini. Notes for an African Orestes. IMPRINT: [Rome?]: IDI Cinematografica, c1989
(Montauk, NY: Mystic Fire Video) 75 min. B&W.
Asante Market Women. Dir: Claudia Milne (G–B). Ghana, 1982,. Anthrop: Charlotte Boaitey.
Ghana, 1982,. 52 min. Prod: Granada TV.
Assignment Africa. David Royle. 58 min. Distr. Jane Balfour, London..
Baabu Banza Real: Mariana Hima (Niger). Niger 1984–20min Distrib /Prod : M.Hima/ORTN
(office de Radio et Television du Niger)
Bagré (The). Director: Georges Savonnet. Images et sons de la recherche. CNRS, 29.
Bangusa Timbila. Director: Ron Hallis. Mozambique 1982. 30 min. Dist. Icarus, G–B, London– 30
min.
Baobab play. Dir: John Marshall. 8 min. 16 mm. Dist: DER. Tournage 1957–58; sortie : 1974
Baoulé Dir: H.Himmelheber (Germ). Ivory Coast, 1970, 13', 16 mm B&W.
Appendix
1092
Bambara of Mali (The). Dir: Dan Shafer and Tom O’Toole (USA). Mali, 1970. 10 min. silent. Dist.
MINN.
Baraka. Dir: Jean-Paul Colleyn (Bel). Anthr: Victoria Ebin (USA). Senegal, 1999. Collaboration of
Abib Seek. 54 min. video digital betacam. Prod: Lapsus-RTBF-Arte (Fr-Bel).
Batteries dogon. (Dogon Drums). Dir: Jean Rouch and Gilbert Rouget. Mali, 1966. 26 min. 16 mm.
Prod. CNRS—EPHE, lab. Audiovisuel—CFE (Fr).
Batteurs de calebasses. (Calabash Drummers) Dir. Bernard Surugue (Fr). Niger, 1967. 30 min. 16
mm B&W. Prod. ORTSOM CFE (Fr).
Bend in the Niger (The). Series: African Heritage (00858). Mali, Niger Nigeria, 1971. 50 min. 16
mm. Prod: Elisofon. Dist: EDUPAC (02947.
Bichorai. Burundi, 1994. Director(s): Philippe de Pierpont. Video 58 min.
Bikutsi, water blues. Dir: Jean-Marie Teno (Cameroon) prod : J.-M. TENO Dist : Les films du
raphia. 93 min.
Biotope et geste de travail vezo: Technique de communication. Dir. And anthr: Bernard
Koechlin.(Fr), Madagascar; 1975; 1 H 30. 16 mm. Prod :CNRS AV. Diff. Bilan 88.
Bitter Melons. Dir. John Marshall (USA), 1966. Prod:.L. and J. Marshall/DER. Dist. D.E.R.
Black Majesty. Prod. Télé ciné Ltd. Distributeur : Inter Ciné Tv.
Black Music in South Africa. (Musiques noires en Afrique du Sud). Dir: Claude Fléouter (Fr). South
Africa, 1989. Video. Prod. Telescope/Fr3/La Sept (Fr). Dist. Telmondis.
Blanche-Neige en Afrique. Dir: Benoît Quersin (Bel). Zaire, 1993. 30 min. video. Prod: Yumi-LA
SEPT-ARTE (France). Dist. Yumi Productions.
Bois sacré. Dir: Edmond Agabra (Madagascar). Ivory Coast, 1975. 27 min. 16 mm. Prod: INA.
Dist. Audecam.
Bongo. Les Funérailles du vieil Anaï. Mali, 1972. J. Rouch et G. Dieterlen (Fr), 45 min.
Bono Medicines. J.S. Dodds, T.J.Wallace and D.D. Ohl. Anth. D. Michael Warren. Ghana, 1981.
72 min. Distr. In U.S.A.: White Pine Films. Rev. AA. 86, 3, sept. 1984, 802.
Boran. Directors: David Mc Dougall, Ames Bue, Norman Miller. Kenya 1974.
Boran Herdsmen. Director: David MacDougall. 1974. 17 min. 16 mm. AUFS 21817, 16
Boran Women. Director(s): David MacDougall. 1974. 18 min. 16 mm. AUFS 21918,16 1.
Born musicians: traditional music from the Gambia. Series Repercussions. Dir: Geoffrey Haydon
and Dennis Marks (G–B). Gambia, 1984. Prod. Third Eye Production for RM Arts and Channel
Four. Dist: Chicago, 111.: Home Vision.
Borom xam xam (la route du savoir). Dir: Maurice Dorès. (France). Senegal, 1975, 62 min. 16 mm.
Prod. Les films Esdès, SNC, M. Dores..
Bouche deliée (La). Olivier de Sardan. Images et sons de la recherche. CNRS.
Cameroon Brass Casting. Dir: Paul Gebauer. Cameroon, 1950. Dist. University of Pittsburgh,
U.S.A.
Carnaval of Guinea Bissau (The). Dir: Tobias Engel. Anthr. Louis-Vincent Thomas. Guinea
Bissau, 1982. 16 mm. 27 mn. Dist/ Prod: CNRS AV.
Chasse au lion a l’arc (La). (The Lion Hunters). Dir. Jean Rouch (Fr). Niger, 1970; 68 min; 16mm.
Prod: CNRS/Films de la Pléiade. Dist. MGHT 70017, 16 R
Chef de Dore (Le). Igor de Garine. Images et sons de la recherche. CNRS.
Children of the Chameleon, The (Les enfants du caméléon). Dir: Robert Gessain and Monique
Gessain (Fr). Senegal, 1969. 13 minutes. Prod: Musée de l’Homme, LA 49, Paris.
Children of the River (The). Dir. Robert Gessain and Monique Gessain. Senegal, 1963. 13 min.
Prod: Musée l’Homme, LA 49, Paris.
Chopi music of Mozambique; Banguza Timbila. Dir. Ron Hallis. Produced by Ron and Ophera
Hallis. Mozambique 1989.56 min. Distr: El Cerito, Calif.: Flower Films & Video. Color, with
B&W sequences.
Choreometrics. Dir: Alan Lomax. 1974; 40 min.
Appendix
1093
Chuck Davis, dancing through West Africa. Director(s): Gorham Kindem. Prod. Gorham Kindem
and Jane Desmond. IMPRINT: New York, NY: Filmakers Library; NY: dist. by Modern
Educational Video Network, 1992, ca. 1986. 28 min.
Cocorico, Monsieur Poulet. Dir: Jean Rouch (Fr). 1974. 90 min. 16 mm With Damoure Zika, Lam
Ibrahim Dia, Tallou Mouzourane. Prod. CNRS—Centre Nigérien de Recherche en Sciences
Humains (C.N.R.S.H.)—C.F.E.
Dance of the Queens in Porto Novo. (Danses des reines a Porto Novo). Dir: Gilbert Rouget.
Camera: Jean Rouch. Dahomey (Bénin), 1969. 30 min. 16 mm. Prod. CNRS ER 165—
UNESCO– C.F.E.(Fr).
Dance of the spirits (The): mask styles and performances in the Upper Volta. Dir. Christopher Roy
(U.S.A.). Upper Volta (Burkina Faso), 1988. 28 min. Prod. University of Iowa Video Center.
Dist. University of Iowa, Video Center.
Danses Nande. Dir: Cecilia Pennacini (It). Zaire, 1989. 30 min. 16 mm. Coop. 28
decembre/University of Turino. Diff: Bilan 90.
Day of Rest. Dir and anthr: Peter Fry (G–B). Rhodesia (Zambia), 1957. B&W. 30 min Voir
catalogue Royal Anthropological Institute.
Deep Hearts. Dir: Robert Gardner. Niger 1978. 53 min. Dist. Phoenix Films. Rev. American
Anthropologist 82:224–225, 1980; Weinberger, in Lucien Taylor, 21.
Discovering the Music of Africa. USA, 1967. 22 min; 16 mm Phenix 20818,16 R.
Dances of the Tshokwe in Northeastern Angola. Dir: Baumann, H. (Germ). Angola, 1930. 7 min.
B&W. silent. Prod, and dist. RWU/IWF Gottingen.
Dialogue avec le sacré, les amants de l’au-delà. Dir: Stephane Kurc (Fr). Côte d’Ivoire, 1982. 26
min. 16 mm. Prod. Les Films du Sabre (Fr). Diff. Bilan 1984.
Diary of a Dry Season I: The Tyi-wara. Chronique d’une saison sèche: I.Le Tyi-wara. Dir: JeanPaul Colleyn. Mali, 1987. 16mm, 40 min. Prod. ACME-RTBF (Bel). Diff: MMFF. 1987.
Diary of a Dry season II. Minyanka Funerals (Chronique d’une saison sèche: II. La qualité de la
mort). Dir: Jean-Paul Colleyn. Mali, 1987. 16mm, 46 min. Prod. ACME-RTBF (Bel).Diff.
Diary of a Dry Season. III. Three Celebrations. (Chronique d’une saison sèche: III. Jours de fête).
Dir: Jean-Paul Colleyn. Mali, 1987. 16mm, 40 min. Prod. ACME-RTBF (Bel).Diff: MMFF.
Diary of a Dry season IV. Possession (Chronique d’une saison sèche: IV. Possession). Dir: JeanPaul Colleyn. Mali, 1987. 16mm, 54 min. Prod. ACME-RTBF (Bel).Diff: MMFF.
Dipri Festival in Gomon (Fête de Dipri a Gomon). Dir: Fernand Lafargue (Fr). Ivory Coast, 1968.
20 min. CFE (Fr). Dist. CNRS. 16 mm. Diff. Populi 69.
Disumba. Dir. Pierre Salée (Fr). Gabon, 1969. 52 min. 16 mm. B& W. Prod. ORSTOM—Musée
des arts et des traditions du Gabon; topics: Gabon—Mitsogho—masks.
Djembefola Guinea. Dir: Laurent Chevallier (Fr). Guinea, 1991. 67 min. Prod: Rhéa fimls / La
Sept. Diff: MMFF 1992.
Dodos (The). Dir: Sanou Kollo (Burk. Faso). Burkina Faso, 1980. 19 min. Prod: Sanou KOLLO.
Dist: Audecam (Fr).
Duo has killed (Duo a tué). Dir: Guy Le Moal (fr). Upper Volta (Burkina Faso), 1970. 23 min. 16
mm. Prod. LA 221 (Fr).
Djembefola. Guinea 1991. Director(s): Laurent Chevallier. 67 min.
Dogon, Chronicle of a Passion. Director(s): Guy Seligman. 1997.
Dogon—Oracle. D. Luz (Germany). 1966. IWF.
Les enfants de la danse (= The Children of the Dance). Director (s): Genevieve Dourbon Taurelle.
Author: Simha Arom. Prod. ER 165, Paris and Comité du film ethnographique. Central African
Republic 1966. 11 min. 16 mm col.
Enterrement (L’) du Hogon (The Burial of the Hogon). Jean Rouch, Mali 1973, 15 min. Distr.
CNRS (France). 16 mm.
Faces of culture. 1994, 26 X 30 min. Producers, Ira R. Abrams, John Bishop; prod. Coast
Community College District—Harcourt, Brace College Publishers [et al.]. IMPRINT: Fountain
Valley, Calif.: Coast Telecourses.
Appendix
1094
From the Village of the Living People to the Village of the Dead. (Du village des vivants au village
des morts). Dir: Annen, Liliane (Swiss). Anthr. Deluz, Ariane. Ivory Coast, 1983. 60 min. 16
mm. Prod, and Dist: RTSR.
Funerals in Bongo—Anai Dolo 1848–1970. Dir. Jean Rouch (Fr). Mali, 1972. 16 mm. Dist. CNRS
AV.
Future Remembrance. Dir. Tobias Wendl and Nancy du Plessis (Germ).
Gelede: A Yoruba Masquerade. Dir: Peggy Harper. Nigeria, 1970, 24 min. Dist: SMI.
Gens de la parole (Les).Dir: Jean-Francois Schiano (Fr). Mali, 1 59 min. 16 mm. Prod. Films du
village. Dist: Audecam (Fr).
God Gave Her a Mercedes-Benz. Dir: Katia Forbert Petersen (Can). Togo, 1992. 48 min. Prod:
Sfinx Film/TV, National Film of Canada. Concept: Ingrid Nystrèom; narrator: Kossi Apkovi.
Dist. N.Y.: Filmakers Library.
Gods-objects (The). From To Live with the Gods series. Dir: Jean-Paul Colleyn and Catherine De
Clippel. Anthr: Marc Augé and Jean Pierre Dozon (Fr). Togo, 1989. 16 mm couleur. 51 min.
Prod. ACME RTBF SEPT ORSTOM. Diff. Fr3, Arte, RTBF, RTSR.
Goumbé des jeunes noceurs (La). Dir. Jean Rouch (Fr). 1965. 30 min. 16 mm et 35mm. Prod.
CNRS Les films de la Pleiade. Dist. CNRS A-V.; MAE.
Grand Magal a Touba. Dir. Blaise Senghor (Senegal). Senegal, 1962. Prod: Service du cinema of
Senegal. 35 mm.
Le grand masque Molo (The great Molo Mask). Director(s): Guy Le Moal. Upper Volta, 1968. 20
min. 16 mm col. Prod. L.A. 221, Paris and Comité du film ethnographique.
Griot Badye (The). (Le griot Badye). Dir: Jean Rouch (Fr) and Inoussa Ousseini (Niger). Niger,
1977. 15 min. 16 mm. Prod. CNRS, L.A. 221 (Fr)—INRSH (Niger).
Griot in the Circle, The (Griot dans le cercle, Le). Série Des arts et des Hommes. Dir: RibadeauDumas (Fr). Senegal, 1975. 26 min. 16 mm col. Dist. Audecam.
Griots Today (The). (Les griots d’aujourd’hui). Series: Des arts et des hommes. Dir: Colette
Castagno (Fr). 1975. 19 min. 16 mm. Dist. Audecam.
Griottes of the Sahel: Female Keepers of the Songhay Oral Tradition in Niger. Dir. Marie
Hornbein. Writer: Thomas A.Hale (USA). Niger, 1991. 12 min. Prod. Center for Instructional
Design and Integrated Technologies and College of the Liberal Arts, Pennsylvania State
University; WPSX-TV; dist: University Park, Penn.: PennState Audio-visual Services.
Hamar Herdsman and His Song. Dir. And anthr. Yvo Strecker (Germ). Ethiopia, 1987. 46 min. 16
mm.
Hamar Trilogy. I. Women Who Smile (The). Dir. Joanna Head. (G– B) Anthr: Jean Lydall (G–B).
50 min. 16 mm. Ethiopia, 1990. II. Two Girls Go Hunting. Ethiopia, 1991. 58 min. 16 mm. III.
Our Way of Loving. Ethiopia, 1994. 58 min. 16 mm.
Hampi. Dir. Jean Rouch (Fr). Niger, 1965. 25 min. 16 mm. Prod. CNRS L.A. 221—C.F.E. (Fr).
Heal the Whole Man. Dir. Paul Robinson. Anthr. Jean Comaroff. 50 min. Dist: Chigfield Ldt.
London. Rev. Heider, 1995, 121.
Hivernage a Kouroumani. Dir: Guy Le Moal (Fr). Burkina Faso, 1977. 50 min. 16 mm. Prod, and
dist. CNRS A-V; Audecam.
Horendi. Dir. Jean Rouch (Fr). Niger, 1972. 90 min. 16 mm. Prod. L.A. 221, Paris. Dist. CNRS.
Hunters (The). Director(s): John Marshall. 1989. Prod. Film Study Center of the Peabody Museum
of Harvard University. IMPRINT: Chicago, Ill.: Films Inc. 72 min. col.
Images of the Yacuba Country (Images du pays yacouba). Dir. Y. Colmar et C.Glise (Fr). 1963. 11
min. 16 mm. Dist. Audecam.
In Africa for a Spell. Dir. Ilan Flamer. Cameroon, 1986, 60 min. MMFF 1987.
In and out of Africa. Dir: Gabai Baaré, Ilisa Barbash, Christopher Steiner, Lucien Taylor. 1992. 59
min. Prod: Center for Visual Anthropology, University of Southern California.
Initiation. Dir: Jean Rouch. Niger, 1975. 45 min. 16 mm. Prod: CNRS, L.A. 221 (Fr).
Initiation to the dance of possession (Initiation a la danse des possédés). Dir. Jean Rouch. Niger,
1948. 25 min. 16 mm Prod. CNRS, L.A. 221 and C.F.E. Dist. Audecam; CNRS AV.
Appendix
1095
In Praise of Language. Prod. Kerygma Media International; filmed in cooperation with the
Ministry of Information and Culture, the Ministry of Higher Education and Scientific Research,
Yaoundé, Cameroon. IMPRINT: Dallas, TX: Summer Institute of Linguistics, [1989?].
Jaguar. Dir: Jean Rouch (Fr). Niger, 1954/67. 110 min. Prod: Films de la Pleiade. Diff. MMFF 77.
Dist. DER.
Jungle Gods. Rituals in Gabon. Dir: Susumu Noro (Jap). Gabon, 1973. 52 min. 16 mm. Prod.
NAV. Man TV series.
Kasarmuce. Director(s): Saddik Balewa; prod. Matthew Rose. This land is ours IMPRINT: [Los
Angeles, CA]: Inter Image Video, 1991. 86 min.
Kin Kiesse. Dir: Ngangura Mweze (Congo). Zaire, 1982. 28 min. PROD. : France 21 Ministère des
Affaires étrangères / OZRT (Office Zaïrois de Television) Dist. Audecam.
Kings of the Water. Director(s): Philip Haas. Prod. Fernando Trueba and the Centre Georges
Pompidou. IMPRINT: New York, NY: Milestone Film & Video, c. 1991. 57 min.
Konkombe: Nigerian music. Dir. Jeremy Marre (G–B). Nigeria, 1988. 50 min. Prod. Harcourt
Films. Dist: Newton, N.J.: Shanachie.
Koumen. Dir: Ludovic Segarra (Fr). Mali, 1977. 52 min. 16 mm. Prod: Ludovic Segarra Prod. Dist.
Audecam. Diff. La Sept/Arte.
!Kung San: Traditional Life (The). Director(s): John Marshall. 1987. 26 min. Distr. Documentary
Educational Resources (02195).
The Land of the Prophets. (Prophètes en leur pays). (Series: To Live with the Gods). Dir: Colleyn,
Jean-Paul and Catherine De Clippel. Anthr: Marc Augé (EHESS) and Jean Pierre Dozon
(ORSTOM). 16 mm couleur. 54’. Prod. ACME RTBF La SEPT, with the support of the Swiss
TV and FR3. Ivory Coast.
Lassa fever / BBC-TV, WGBH; by John Foster; producer Ruth Caleb; directed by Roger Bamford.
Nova (Television program). IMPRINT: New York, N.Y.: Time-Life Video: Ambrose Video
Publishing Inc. [distributor], c. 1983. 57 min.
Leap across the Cattle (The). Ivo Stecker, Allemagne. Ethiopie, 1976. 43 min.
Left Handed Man of Madagascar (The). Dir. Jeremy Marre (GB), anthr. John Mack (GB).
Madagascar, 1990. 50 min. 35 mm. Prod. Harcourt Films. Diff. MMFF 1990.
Living Africa, a Village Experience. Director(s): Jean Lefebvre. 1983. 34 min. Prod. Indiana
University. IMPRINT: Bloomington, Ind.: Indiana University Audio-Visual Center. Study
guide.
Lorang’s Way. Director(s): David and Judith MacDougall. Kenya, 1977, 69 min. IMPRINT:
Berkeley, Calif.: University of California Extension Media Center.
Lumumba, la mort du prophète (Lumumba, Death of a Prophet). Director(s): Raoul Peck. 1992, 69
min. Prod: Velvet Film GmbH, Berlin; Cinemamma GmbH, Zurick; IMPRINT: San Francisco,
CA: California Newsreel. col. with b& w sequences.
Maasai Manhood. Kenya 1975. 53 min. Chris Curling et Melissa Llewelyn-Davies (England).
Granada TV.
Maasai Women. Kenya 1974. 52 min. Chris Curling et Melissa Llewelyn-Davies (England).
Granada TV.
Magiciens de Wanzerbee (Les). (The Wanzerbe Magicians). Director(s): Jean Rouch. Niger 1948.
33 min. 16 mm B&W. Prod. CNRS, L.A. 221 and Ministère de la Cooperation.
Maîtres fous (Les). Ghana 1953 or 55, Jean Rouch (Fr) 1955. 30 min. 16 mm. Dist. DER; 33637,
16.
Makumukas. Dir: Rui Duarte (Angola). Angola, 1977. 30 min. B&W. série Tempo Mumuila. Dist:
Gemini Films (Fr).
Malles (Les). Samba Felix NDIAYE(Sénégal), Senegal, 1989. 14 min; Prod : Almadies Films; Dist
: Audecam
Mama Tsembu Oracle (L‘oracle de Mama Tsembu). Dir: Dirk Dumon. Anthr: Renaat Devische.
(BEL.), Zaire, 1992; 50 min; Prod: BRTN
Appendix
1096
Mami Wata. The Spirit of the White Woman. Dir: Tobias Wendl and Daniela Weise. (Germ) Togo,
1988. 45 min. 16 mm. Prod: T. Wendl and D.Weise (Germ) Diff. Bilan 1989.
Mamy Water: In Search of the Water Spirits in Nigeria. Dir: Sabine Jell-Bahlsen (Germ). Nigeria,
1991 (J’ai 1989 sur ma fiche). 59 min. Prod:. Sabine Jell-Bahlsen. Dist. Univ. of Calif. Ext.
Mary Akatsa, Stool of Jesus. Dir: Heike Berhend (Germ). Kenya, 1990. 55 min. 16 mm. Prod. H.
Berhend. Dist: University of Bereuth (Germ). Diff. MMFF 1990. Bilan 1992.
Masks Made with Leaves (Masques de feuilles). Dir: Guy Le Moal (Fr). Upper Volta (Burkina
Faso), 1961. 37 min. 16 mm. Prod. L.A. 221. CFE, Ministère de la Cooperation (Fr).
Matsam. Director(s): Bernard Juillerat. Cameroon, 1969. Prod. RCP 587, Paris, Comité du film
ethnographique. 30 min. 16 mm col. Distr. CNRS.
Mbira dza Vadzimu: Dambatsoko, an Old Cult Center with Muchatera and Ephrat Mujuru. Dir:
Gei Zantzinger and Andrew Tracey. Rhodesia, 1978. 51 min. 16 mm. Prod: PSUPCR.
Mbira dza Vadzimu: Religion at the Family Level with Gwanzura Gwenzi. Rhodesia, 1978. 66 min.
16 mm. PSUPCR, 60286,16 S.
Mbira dza Vadzimu: Urban and Rural Ceremonies with Hakurotwi Mudhe. Rhodesia, 1978; 45
min. 16mm. Prod: PSUPCR 40310, 16 S.
Memories and Dreams. Dir: Melissa Llewelyn-Davis (G–B). Kenya, 1992. 92 min. 16 mm. Diff.
MMFF 93, RTBF, Arte.
Memory of the Black People (The). (La mémoire du peuple noir). Dir : Claude Fléouter, Bernard
Bouthier, Robert Manthoulis (FR). USA; 1979; 52 min; 16 mm; Prod: Telescope Dist:
Telmondis; Diff: Festival dei Popoli 1979.
Mille et une églises (Les). Dir: Secco Suardo Lanfranco (Italy). Ghana, 1986. 47 min. Prod.
Spectre-Asadin (Italia).
Mizike Mama. Dir: De Villiers, Violaine (Bel). Belgium, 1992. 52 min. 16 mm. Prod. Images
Productions. Diff. RTBF; Bilan 1993.
Moi, un Noir. (I, a Black). Dir. jean Rouch (Fr) Ivory Coast, 1957. First prize Louis Delluc in 1959.
Released in 1960. 80 min. 16 mm. Prod: Films de la Pléiade (Fr).
Monday’s Girls. Ngozi Omwurah. Color; Sound. 1993. 49 min. Distr : CALIFORNIA
NEWSREEL (03410) Series Library of African Cinema (01235).
Moon of Bogodi (The). (La Lune de Bogodi). Dir: Igor de Garine (Fr). Chad, 1965. 32 min. 16 mm.
Prod. CFE. Dist. CFE/ CNRS-AV. Diff. Populi 1968.
Mukissi. Dir: Herbert Risz (Switzerland). Congo, 1974. 24 min. 16 mm. Distr. (Fr): Audecam.
Mursi (The). Dir: Woodlhead Leslie. Anthr. David Turton (G–B). Ethiopia, 1974. 58 min. 16 mm.
Prod. Granada TV (Disappearing Worlds), Manchester, Great Britain.
Music of Guinea. (Série Musiques de Guinée). Dir: Yves Billon and Robert Minangoy (Fr). Guinée
1987. 55 min. 16 mm. Prod. Les films du village. Dist. Audecam. Diff. Bilan 1987.
N!ai, The Story of a !Kung Woman. Director(s): John Marshall. Botswana, 1980. 59 min. Prod.
Documentary Educational Resources, inc. and Public Broadcasting Associates, inc. IMPRINT:
Watertown, Mass.: Documentary Educational Resources. Study guide (56 p.)
Nawi. Uganda 1968, David and Judith MacDougall (USA). 22 min. 16 mm.
Naked spaces: Living is Round. Director(s): Trinh, T. Minh-Ha (1952-). Prod. Jean-Paul Bourdier.
1985. IMPRINT: New York: Women Make Movies. 2 hrs., 15 min.
N’doep (The). Dir: Michel Meignant (Fr). Senegal, 1972. 45 min. 16 mm. Prod. Office de
documentation par le film. Dist. Audecam. Diff. Populi 1968.
N!owa T’ama: The Melon Tossing. Dir. John Marshall. 1966; 15 min. 16 mm DER 21590, 16.
N/um Tchai: The Ceremonial Dance of the !Kung Bushmen. Dir. John Marshall (USA). 1966; 20
min. 16 mm B&W. Prod, and dist. DER 21594, 16 R.
Nitha. Dir. Leslie Woodhead. Anthr: David Turton (GB). Ethiopia, 1991. 51 min. 16 mm. Prod:
Granada TV, Disappearing World Series (G–B). Diff. Bilan 1993. Rev. AA 94, 199, 1027–
1028.
Noces de feu (Wedding of Fire). Director(s): Nicole echard. Niger, 1967. Prod. RCP 322, Paris et
Comité du film ethnographique. 32 min. 16 mm col.
Appendix
1097
Nomades du soleil (Les). H.Brandt. Suisse, Niger, 1956. Location: Comité du film ethnographique.
Nsuyri lam (In Praise of Language). Kerygma Media International; [presented by] The Summer
Institute of Linguistics. IMPRINT: Dallas, TX: Dallas Center Media, [198-?] 23 min.
Nuer (The). Dir: Hilary Harris and George Breidenbach (USA). Sudan, 1970; 74 min. 16 mm.
MGHT: 70044, 16 R
Nyangatoms (Les) 16 mm coul. Real: Jean Arlaud et Philippe Sénéchal. Prod. Serddav-CNRS. Awa
Film. South Western Ethiopia.
Old Woman and the Rain (The). (La vieille et la pluie). Dir. JeanPierre Olivier de Sardan. Niger
1972 (other sources say 74). 58 min. 16 mm col. Prod. ER 225-Sardan. Dist. CNRS AV.
Ouagadougou, Portraits of Gods (Ouagadougou, Portraits de Dieux). Dir: Benoit Lamy (Bel).
Burkina faso, 1992, 50 min. prod: Lamy Film—RTBF.
Our Way of Loving. Director(s): Joanna Head, anthr. Jean Lydall. Ethiopia, 1994. 58 min.
Owu: Chidi Joins the Okoroshi Secret Society. (Owu, Geheim Initiazion). Dir. Sabine Jell-Bahlsen
(Germ). Nigeria, 1994. 55 min. MMFF 1994.
Pageant of the Spirits: Mmanwu Festival ‘88. Anambra State Ministry of Information and Culture;
producer Ikenna Ekwenugo; script writer, Lawrence Emeka. IMPRINT: Enugu: The Ministry, c.
1988. 104 min.
Pangols : the Spirit of West Africa in Music, Song and Dance. Le Ballet National du Senegal;
director general, Pathe Gueye; production director, Jean Pierre Leurs; artistic director, Bouly
Sonko. Spirit of West Africa in music, song and dance IMPRINT: New York, N.Y.: Columbia
Artists Management, Inc., c. 1995. 50 min.
Pam Kuso Kar : Breaking Pam’s Vase s (Bris er les pote ri es de Pam) jean Rouch (Fr). Niger,
1974–10 min. 16 mm. Systèmes de pensée en Afrique Noire, LA 221—C.F.E. (Fr).
Pangols: The Spirit of West Africa in Music, Song and Dance Dir: Pathe Gueye. Senegal, 1995. 50
min. Dist: New York, N.Y.: Columbia Artists Management.
Papa Wemba, chef Coutumier de la rumba-rock. Dir Yvan Guypan, Michel Delire (Bel). Zaire
(Congo), 1986. 50 min. 16 mm. Prod. My films (Belgium).
Playing with the Scorpions. Dir: John Marshall. Dist: DER.; Prod: John Marshall. Tournage:
1957/58, issued in 1972.
Prince Charmant (Le). Dir: Michele Fieloux et Jacques Lombard (Fr). Madagascar, 1991. 43 min.
Beta SP. Prod. Orstom.
Profession féticheur. Dir: Georges Adou (Fr). Ivory Coast, 1981. 30 min. 16 mm. Prod.: Les Films
du Sabre Distr. Audecam.
Profession revendeuse. Dir. Danielle Tessier (Fr). 1981. 55 min. 16 mm. Prod. INA. Dist. Ina,
Audecam.
Reality (Réalité). Dir. Tidiane A.W. Cheikh (Sen). Senegal, 1969. 35 mm N/B. Distr: Audecam
(Paris).
Reassemblage: from the firelight to the screen. Director(s): Trinh T. Minh-ha. 1982, 40 min.
IMPRINT: Berkeley. Women Make Movies (Firm).
Rhythm of resistance: The Black music of South Africa. Dir: Chris Austin and Jeremy Marre. South
Africa, 1988. Prod. Harcourt Films Production. Dist. Newton, NJ: Shanachie, Newton, N.J.
Rite of passage. Director(s): Laurence K. Marshall. IMPRINT: [Cambridge, Mass.]: Centre for
Documentary Anthropology, 1966. 16 min.
Rouch in reverse. Director(s): Manthia Diawara; 1995?, A Formation Films production for
ZDF/ARTE. IMPRINT: San Francisco, Calif.: California Newsreel.
Sacrifice and Divination in Hamar (Der Herr der Ziegen). Dir: Ivo Strecker. Ethiopia, 1984. 45
min. 16 mm. Prod: Inst. Fur Ethnologie—Mainz. Diff. Bilan 1985, MMFF 1985..
Sakoma Kuye, funerals (funérailles). Dir: Alphonse Kodini Sanou (Burkina). Burkina Faso, 1997,
26 min. Prod, and Dist. Diproci.
Sakpata. Dir. Jean Rouch and Gilbert Rouget. Dahomey (Benin), 1963. 25 min. 16 mm.
School of the Masks in the Dogon Country (The). (L’école des masques en pays dogon). François
de Dieu (Fr). 1959. 13 min. 16 mm.col and B&W. Prod: F. de DIEU. Dist: Audecam.
Appendix
1098
Senufo, The (West Africa, Upper Volta). Forging Iron. Dir: Kunz Dittmer (Germ). Upper Volta
(Burkina Faso), 1955. 6:30 min. Prod, and dist. I.W.F.Göttingen.
Seven Nights and Seven Days. Dir: maurice Dorès.(Fr); 1982; 48 min. 16 mm. Dist: Filmakers
Library, New York. Video.
Seven-up in South Africa. Prod. Granada Television. IMPRINT: Newton, N.J.: Shanachie
Entertainment Corp., 1993. 83 mins.
Shan Kubewa. Dir: Marc Henri Piault (Fr). Nigeria, 1971. 12 min. 16 mm. Prod. CNRS, Sociétés
d’Afrique occidentale et politiques de développement, ER 225, Sardan—C.F.E.
Sigui 1967—L’enclume de Yougo. (The Anvil of Yougo). Dir: Jean Rouch. Anthr: Germaine
Dieterlen (Fr). Mali, 1967. 50 min. 16 mm.
Sigui 1968: Les Danseurs de Tyougou (The Dancers of Tyougou). Dir: jean Rouch. Anthr:
Germaine Dieterlen (Fr). Mali, 1968. 50 min. 16 mm. Prod: CNRS-CFE (Fr).
Sigui 1969—La Caverne de Bongo (The Bongo Cave). Dir. Jean Rouch. Anthr. Germaine Dieterlen
(Fr). Mali, 1969. 40 min. Prod. CNRS, Systèmes de pensée en Afrique Noire, L.A. 221– CFE.
(Fr).
Sigui 1970—Les Clameurs d’Amani. (The Clamour of Amami) Dir. Jean Rouch. Anthr: Germaine
Dieterlen (Fr). Mali, 1970. 35 min. Prod. CNRS, Systèmes de pensée en Afrique Noire, L.A.
221—CFE (Fr).
Sigui 1972—Les pagnes de Iame (The Pagnes of Iame). Dir. Jean Rouch. Anthr: Germaine
Dieterlen (Fr). Mali, 1972. 50 min. 16 mm. Prod. CNRS, Systèmes de pensée en Afrique Noire,
L.A 221—C.F.E (Fr).
Sigui 1973–1974: L‘auvent de la circoncision (The Circumcision Shelter). Dir: Jean Rouch. Anthr:
Germaine Dieterlen (Fr). Mali, 1974. 15 min. 16 mm. Prod: CNRS—CFE. (Fr).
Sigui année zero. (Sigui, the Year Before). Dir. Jean Rouch Anthr: Germaine Dieterlen (Fr). Mali,
1966. 50 min. 16 mm. Prod. CNRS, L.A. 221—C.F.E (Fr).
Sigui Synthèse (The Sixty Year Cycle of Sigui Ceremonies). Dir: Jean Rouch. Anthr. Germaine
Dieterlen (Fr). 90 min. 16 mm. Prod: CNRS—CFE. (Fr).
Six Pence a Door. Black Art in South Africa. Dir. Mbele Sibiuso (South Africa).
Songs of the Adventurers. Dir. Gei Zantzinger. Lesotho, 1987. 57 min. Prod. Constant Springs
Productions. Dist. USA.
Songs of the Badius. Gei Zantzinger, Cabo Verde, 1986; 30 mins. Prod: Constant Spring
Production. Diff. MMFF 86.
Soro (The). Dir: Inoussa Ousseini (Niger). Série Fêtes et Traditions populaires du Niger. Niger,
1980. 18 min. 16 mm. Prod. : Inoussa OUSSEINI Dist. Audecam.
Spite. (Nkpiti, la rancune et le prophète) Dir: Jean-Paul Colleyn and Manu Bonmariage. Anthr.
Marc Augé. Ivory Coast, 1984. 53 min. Prod: Acmé-Rtbf (Bel). Diff.MMFF 1984. Dist. (USA):
Filmakers Library.
Spirits of Defiance. Dir: Jeremy Marre (G–B). Zaire, 1989. 49 min. 16 mm. Prod. BBC. Under the
Sun (television program, Great Britain). Diff: :MMFF 89.
A Spirit Here Today. Director(s): Gei Zantzinger., 1994.
Statues also Die (The). (Statues meurent aussi [Les]). Dir: Alain Resnais and Chris Marker. France,
1953.
Strange Beliefs. Written and presented by Bruce Dakowski. IMPRINT: Princeton, N.J.: Films for
the Humanities, 1990. 52 min.
Studies of Nigerian Dance No. 2. Dir. Francis Speed and Peggy Harper (USA). 1966. 16 mm.
B&W. Dist: SMI.
Sur les traces du renard pâle (On the Tracks of the Pale Fox). Dir. Luc de Heusch (Bel). Anthr: L.
de Heusch, G. Dieterlen, J. Rouch. Mali, 1983. 48 min. 16 mm. CBA-RTBF-FOBRACNRS
(Bel).
Tanda Singui. Dir. Jean Rouch (Fr). Niger, 1972. 30 min. 16 mm. Prod. CNRS AV.
Tanz in der Savanne (Ox dance). Ivo Stecker, RFA, Ethiopie 1984. Ethnic: Hamar.
Appendix
1099
Théatre noir francophone videorecording / I.C.A.F. Espace francophone (Television program).
IMPRINT: Iowa City, IA: PICS/The University of Iowa, [1992?]
Three tales from Senegal. Fary l’anesse, Franc, Picc mi. IMPRINT: San Francisco, Calif.:
California Newsreel, [1994].
To Live with Herds. David, and Judith. MacDougall (USA). Uganda, 1972. 70 min. 16 mm. Prod.
David, and Judith. MacDougall UCLA; Dist : SMI.
Togu na and cheko : Change and Continuity in the Art of Mali. Mali 1989. Prod. Staniski Media
Resources for the National Museum of African Art (USA). Dist. Washington, D.C.: National
Museum of African Art, Smithsonian Institution.
Tree of Iron. Directed by Peter O’Neill and Frank Muhly Jr.; Foundation for African Prehistory and
Archaeology. IMPRINT: Watertown, Mass.: Documentary Educational Resources, c. 1988. 57
min.
Tribal Dances of West Africa. Dir. R.A.Piper. Ghana, 1969. 28 min. Prod. Piper 31542, 16 R.
Tsé-tsé (France). Mame N’gor Faye, Papa Gora Seek, Badara Sissokho (Senegal). 1986, 20 min.
col. Prod. Varan. Bilan 87 (Pas vu).
Tug of War (The). Dir: John Marshall (USA). Dist: DER.
Turkana Conversations. Dir: David and Judith MacDougall (U.S.A.).I. Wedding Camels (The).
Kenya, 1976. 109 min. 16 mm. University of California Extension Media Center 90116,16 R. II.
Lorang’s way. Kenya, 1977, 69 min. Prod. and Dist: UCEMC.
Turu and Bitti (Tourou et Bitti). Dir. Jean Rouch (Fr). Niger, 1967. Prod. L.A. 221 and C.E.F. (Fr)
8 min. 16 mm.
Un dieu au bord de la route. Dir. Stéphane Breton (Fr). Nigeria 1993. 52 min. 16 mm. Prod: LA
SEPT-ARTE, Les Films d’Ici, Channel 4, CNC, FAVI (Fr). Dist: Les Films d’ici.
Under the African Skies. I. Mali. Dir. Marc Kiedel (GB). 16 mm. Prod. BBC. II. Zaire. Dir: Mike
Macintyre (GB). 1989. 60 min. 16 mm. III. Zimbabwe.
Under the Black Masks (Sous les masques noirs). Dir. Marcel Griaule (Fr). 1938. 8 min. 35 mm
B&W. Dist. CFE (Fr).
Under a Crescent Moon. Nigeria 1987. Phil Grasbky (Gr-B).
Under the Men’s Tree. Dir: David and Judith MacDougall (USA). Uganda 1968–1974. 15 min. 16
mm. Dist. SMI.
Une pierre seule ne cale pas le chaudron. (One Single Stone Does Not Fix the Pot). Series: Tempo
Mumuila. Dir. Rui Duarte (Angola). 1978. 40 min. 16 mm. B&W. Dist. (Fr) Gemini films.
Vieille et la pluie (La). Director(s): Jean-Pierre Olivier de Sardan. Niger, 1972. 58 min. 16 mm col.
Prod. ER 225-Sardan. Distr. CNRS.
Vimbuza chilopa. Dir. Rupert Poschl & Ulrike Poschl. Malawi, 1991.55 min. 16 mm. Prod.
Universitat Gottingen. Distr (USA): University Park, PA: Audio-Visual Services, The
Pennsylvania State University.
Voices of the Gods. Director(s): Alfred Santana. Prod. Akuaba Production; IMPRINT: New York,
N.Y.: Third World Newsreel, [1993?] 60 min. col.
Voices of the Spirits—Lobi Music from Burkina. (La Voix des génies; -Musiques Lobi du Burkina.
Dir: Christophe Cognet and Stephane Jourdain (Fr). Burkina Faso, 1992. 52 min. 16 mm. Prod.
La huit.Diff. Bilan 1993.
Voudouns—Die Kunst mit den geisten zu leben. Dir. Marianne Dötzer and Ursula Yanarocak
(Germany). Benin, 1995. 43 min. Prod: Iris Film (Germany).
Voodoo’s Daughters (Les filles du vaudou). Dir: Jean-Paul Colleyn and Catherine De Clippel (Bel).
Anthr: Marc Augé and Jean Pierre Dozon (Fr). Togo, 1990. 27:11 min. 16 mm Production:
Acmé RTBF La SEPT-ORSTOM.
The Ways of Nya Are Many (Les Chemins de Nya). Dir: Jean-Paul Colleyn and Jean-Jacques Péché.
Mali, 1983. 16 mm couleur, 54 min. Prod. ACME RTBF CBA (Bel). Diff: MMFF 1983.
Wanzerbe. Dir. Jean Rouch (Fr). Niger, 1968. 20 min. 16mm. Prod. CNRS, L.A. 221—C.F.E. (Fr)/
Ways of Nya Are Many (The). (Les Chemins de Nya). Jean-Paul Colleyn and Jean-Jacques Péché,
Belgium, Mali 1983, 56 min. Prod. Acmé
Appendix
1100
We Jive Like This. 1992. 52 min. Dist. Filmakers Library. (New York). Diff. MMFF 1992.
Witchcraft Among the Azande. Director(s): Andre Singer. Prod. Granada television. Series
Disappearing World. IMPRINT: New York, N.Y.: [Distributed by] Filmmakers Library, c1982.
52 min.
Wodaabe (The). Granada. Produced and directed by Leslie Woodhead. IMPRINT: Chicago, Ill.:
Films Incorporated Video, c1990. 51 min.
Wodaabe, Herdsmen of the Sun. (Chroniques nomades. Les bergers du soleil). Director(s): Werner
Herzog. 1992, 54 min. Interama. Prod: Patrick Sandrin; IMPRINT: New York, N.Y.: Interama
Video Classics.
Women of Manga. Films for the Humanities and Sciences, Inc. Women of Manga (Niger).
IMPRINT: Princeton, N.J.: Films for the Humanities, c. 1992. 12 min. col.
Women’s Olamal. Dir. Melissa Llewelyn Davies and Chris Curling (G–B) 1984. 120 min. Kenya.
Screenings. BBC, RTBF, MMFF 85.
Yaaba Soore: the Path of the Ancestors. Dir: Christopher Roy (USA). Upper Volta (Burkina faso,
1986). Prod. University of Iowa Video Center. Dist: Iowa City: University of Iowa, Video
Center.
Yangba Bolo. Dir: Léonie Zowe (RCA). RCA 1985. 21 min. 16 mm. Prod. Léonie ZOWE Distr:
Audecam.
Yenendi of Boukoki. Dir. Jean Rouch (Fr). Niger, 1973. 10 min. 16 mm. Prod. CNRS, L.A. 221—
C.F.E. (Fr).
Yenendi: The Men who Make Rain. (Les Hommes qui font la pluie). Dir. Jean Rouch (Fr). Niger,
1950. 35 min. 16 mm. Prod. CNRS. L.A. 221—CFE—IFAN (Fr).
Zar (The). Dir: Ali Abdel GAYOUM (Soudan). Sudan. 1982. 25 min. 16 mm Ditr. Troy, MI:
International Book Centre: Audecam.
Zulei. Director(s): Pèaivi Takala and Kristina Tuura. Prod. Proppu 1000, Finland 1990; producer
Kristina Tuura. IMPRINT: Princeton, N.J.: Films for the Humanities and Sciences, c. 1992.
APPENDIX:
Sample of Earlier Dissertations and Theses
on African Folklore At U.S. Institutions
See entry: Institutional Study of African Folklore
Indiana University
Doctoral Dissertations
Mary Klipple, African Folktales with Foreign Analogues, 1938.
Kenneth Clarke, A Motif-Index of the Folktales of Culture Area V. West Africa, 1957.
Hasan el-Shamy, Folkloric Behavior: A Theory for the Study of the Dynamics of Traditional
Culture, 1967.
Mona Fikry, Wa: A Case Study of Social Values and Social Tensions as Reflected in the Oral
Tradition of The Wala of Norther Ghana, 1969.
Sayid Hurreiz, Ja’ aliyyn Folktales: An Interplay of Africa, Arabian and Islamic Elements, 1972.
Dandatti Abdulkadir, The Role of the Oral singer in Hausa/Fulani Society: A Case Study of
Namman Shata, 1975.
John M.Vlach, Sources of the Shotgun House: African and Carribean Antecedents for AfroAmerican Architecture, 1975
Philip M.Peek, An Ethnohistorical Study of Isoko Religious Traditions, 1976.
Bade Ajuwon, The Yoruba Hunters’ Funeral Dirges, 1977.
Mary Twining, An Examination of African Retentions in the Folk Culture of the South Carolina
and George Sea Islands, 1977.
John W.Johnson, The Epic of Sunjata: An Attempt to Define the Model for African Epic Poetry,
1978.
Ayodele Ogundipe, Esu Elegbara the Yoruba God of Chance and Uncertainty: A Study in Yoruba
Mythology, 1978.
Ruth M.Stone, Communication and Interaction Processes in Music Events among the Kpelle of
Liberia, 1978.
Brunhilde Biebuyck, Nkundo Mongo Tales: Analysis of Form and Content, 1980.
Caroline Card, Tuareg Music and Social Identity, 1982.
Sharafelding Abdelsalam, A Study of Contemporary Sudanese Muslim Saints’ Legends in SocioCultural Contexts, 1983.
K.Owusu Brempong, Akan Highlife in Ghana: Songs of Cultural Transition, 1984.
Dan Ben-Amos, Communicative Forms and Techniques in Bini Oral Tradition, 1966
(Postdoctoral).
Master’s Theses
Hortense E.Braden, A Classification of Incidents in Certain Collections of African Folktales, 1926.
Appendix
1102
Ayodele Ogundipe, An Annotated Collection of Folktales from African (Nigerian) Students in the
United States, 1966.
Hasan El-Shamy, An Annotated Collection of Egyptian Folktales Collected from Egyptian Sailors
in Brooklyn, New York, 1964.
Agnes Nebo Bon Ballmos, The Role of Folksongs in Liberian Society, 1975.
Patricia O’Connell, Bandi Oral Narratives, 1976.
K.Owusu Brempong, Attacking Deviations from the Norm: Insults in Bono-Ghana, 1978.
Abdu Yahya Bichi, An Annotated Collection of Hausa Folktales from Nigeria, 1978.
Pamela Blakely, Material Culture in a Hemba Village, 1978.
Kofi Anyidoho, Death and Burial of the Dead: Ewe Funeral Folklore, 1983
Titus Odunlade Abodunde, The Narrative Arts of Two Yoruba Raconteurs, 1984
University of Wisconsin at Madison
Doctoral Dissertations
Harold Scheub, The Ntsomi: A Xhosa Performing Arts, 1969.
Clifford A.Hill, A Study of Ellipsis within Karin Magana: A Hausa Tradition of Oral Arts, 1972.
Donald J.Consetino, Patterns in “Domesia”: The Dialectics of Mende Narrative Performance,
1976.
Sundiata Modupe Broderrick, The “Tori”: Structure, Aesthetics, and Time in Krio Oral Narrative
Performance, 1977.
Mary Frost, Inshimbi and Imilumber: Structural Expectations in Oral Imaginative Performance,
1977.
Deidre A.La Pin, Story, Medium, and Masque: The Idea and Art of Yoruba Storytelling, 1977.
Emil A.Magel, Hare and Hyena: Symbols of Honor and Shame in the Oral Narratives of the Wolof
of the Senegambia, 1977.
Ahmad A.Nasr, Maiwurno of the Blue Nile: A Study of an Oral Biography, 1977.
Okpure Obuke, Isoko Narratives, 1977.
Ernest Wendland, Stylistic Form and Communicative Function in the Nyanja Radio Narratives of
Julius Chongo, 1979.
Kalunga S.Lutato, The Influences of Oral Narrative Traditions on the Novels of Stephen Mpashi,
1980.
Agnes Mukabi, Kobebe the Oral Artist “Bury my Bones but Keep my Words,” 1980.
Ronald Rassner, Narrative Rhythms of Giryama Ngano, 1980.
Obediah Mazombwe, Umuntu: Worldview in the Structure and Theme of Nsenga Narrative
Performance, 1981.
Robert Cancel, “Inshimi” Structure and theme: The Tabwa Oral Narrative Tradition, 1981.
Beverly Blow Mack, “Wakokin Mata”: Hausa Women’s Oral Poetry, 1981.
Zinta Konrad, Aspects of Trickster: Form, Style, and Meaning in Ewe Oral Narrative Performance,
1983.
Master’s Theses
Abrienna C.Schmelling, Myth as a Reflection of Ruanda and Rundi Deism and Ethos, 1969.
Abdulkadir Dandatti, Modern Hausa Poetry by Sa ‘ad Zungur, 1971.
Wandile Kuse, The Traditional Praise Poetry of the Xhosa: Iziduko and Izibongo, 1973.
David Westley, Some Interpretations of the Significance of Variants in the Study of Oral Narrative
Performances, 1975.
Appendix
1103
University of California/Berkeley
Doctoral Dissertations
E.Ojo Arewa, A Classification of Folktales of the Northern East African Cattle Area by Types,
1966.
Winifred Lambrecht, A Tale Type Index for Central Africa, 1967.
University of Pennsylvania
Doctoral Dissertations
Peter Seitel, Proverb and the Structure of Metaphor among the Haya of Tanzania, 1972.
Rema N.Umeasiegbu, Folklore in Anglophone West African Literature, 1975.
INDEX
Note: Main encyclopedia entries are indicated by bold type. Figures are indicated by
italicized type.
AAE. See African American English
Aardvark culture hero, 370
Aarne, Antii, 183, 294
Aarne-Thompson type index, 183, 294, 295–296, 479–482
AAVE. See African American Vernacular English
Abacha, General, 51–52
Abah, Oga, 467
Abakerebe. See Kerebe people
Abaluhyia people, 210–213
Abdel-salam, Sharafeldin, 187
Abimbola, Wande, 306
Abrahams, Roger, 305, 334, 399, 475
folklore definition by, 483
Abu-Lughod, Lila, 145
Achebe, Chinua, 292, 322, 327, 505
on proverbs, 315, 375
acoa (cleverness), 62
actors, 96–98, 333, 341
Adamawa-Ubanji languages, 205
Ade, Sunny, 292, 451
Adechina, 94
Adedeji, Joel, 462
Adefunmi, Efuntola Oseijeman, I., 328–329
Adeola, Adesola, 86
adinkra cloths/symbols, 66, 67
administrators, colonial, 138–139, 231, 356, 504
adoption, 27
advice programs, 110, 111
aerophones, 267, 345
Afigbo, Adiele, 305
African American English (AAE), 208–209
African American Vernacular English (AAVE), 208
African Americans
banjo and, 16–17
basketry of, 22–23
blues/jazz music, 260–261
body arts of, 36–38
cultures and carnivals of, 47–50, 48, 49
Index
1105
music of, 260–261
quilts, textiles and cloth charms of, 456–461
relationship with Native Americans, 49
verbal arts of, 487–490
yards and gardens of, 523–524
African Dilemma Tales (Bascom), 19
African Folklore with Foreign Analogues (Klipple), 185
African Folktales (Abrahams), 305
African Literature Association (ALA), 187
African National Congress (ANC), 35, 362, 363, 418
in oral tradition, 430, 431
Swaziland and, 451
African Oral Literature (Okpewho), 187, 306
African Studies Centers and Libraries in the United States and Africa, 218, 219, 535–536
Africanisms, in Americas, 207–210
Africanus, Leo, 318
Afrikaans language, 206
Afrikaanse Weerstands Beweeging (AWB), 430
Afro-Asiatic languages, 205–206
Afro-Brazilian people, 87–89
Afro-Brazilian religions, 391–393
Afrocentrism, 202
Afro kitsch, 157
after-life
ancestors as symbols of, 2, 72
dreams and, 100
age, 158–161.
See also coming-of-age ceremony
Agni people, 456
agricultural dances, 167, 243–244
agricultural songs, 115, 415
agriculture.
See also farmers;
harvest;
specific countries
celestial names’ relationship to, 11
in Jie cosmology, 137–138
Ahmad, Muhammad, 446
Aida (Verdi), 293
Aidoo, Ama Ata, 333
AIDS. See HIV/AIDs
Aka people, 175–177; 175, 176
Akan people.
See also Ananse (spider);
okyeame
color symbolism of, 66–68
cosmology of, 72–73
gender differences in, 145
jokes of, 196
oratory of, 321–322
Akello, Grace, 62
Akpan, Jack Sunday, 351
Index
akyeame. See okyeame
ALA. See African Literature Association
alcohol, 283–284.
See also beer;
palm wine
Alemna, A.A., 217–218
Aleybeleye, Bunmi, 217–218
Algeria, 1
field and broadcast collections from, 537–538
in Maghrib, 223–224, 227–230
War of Independence, 414
Aliyu, Akilu, 71
allegory, 3
alliteration, 374, 470
Almoravid movement, 256
Al-Nagar, Samia Al Hadi, 525
Al-Sa’di, 318
Amadi, A.O., 217–218
Amadou, Sekou, 116
amaphoxo (jokes), 63, 65
Amazon women, 26
American Peace Corps, 103
Americas.
See also North America
Africanisms in, 207–210
religion in, 391
West African folklore in, 505
Amerindians
in carnivals, 49
folktales of, 46
in Sea Islands, 89
Ames, D.W., 71
Amiani, Chief, 212
Amin, Idi, 483
cartoons about, 51
on popular theater, 464
Amma (god), 517
amulets, 121, 455
Anang Ibibio drama, 96–98
Ananse (spider)
body art designs of, 39
influence on concert parties, 69
in plays, 462
queen mother and, 145
speech of, 321
as trickster, 134–135, 275, 281, 295, 314
Anansi (spider)
speech/silence of, 220, 411
as trickster, 4, 46, 134, 476, 477
ANC. See African National Congress
ancestors, 1–3, 93.
See also ngoma;
1106
Index
1107
shades
basket makers and, 22
Candomblé service to, 392–393
in cosmology, 72
in relation to medicine, 247–249, 253–254
veneration v. worship of, 2–3
angels, 45
Angola, 3, 538
Angolares people, 165–166, 340
Animal Farm (Orwell), 3
animals, 3–5, 54.
See also hunting;
specific animals
as artwork on decorated vehicles, 80
blacksmiths turning into, 31
celestial bodies named for, 11
in children’s folklore, 63–64
on cloth, 454–455
dance and, 78–79
in drama, 98
in dreams, 100–101
in folktales, 28, 226, 286, 297–298, 402, 518
gestures for, 149–150
humans’ relationship with, 3–5, 442
insults concerning, 189
masks depicting, 502–503, 503
in narratives, 367–369, 491–492
positions at burial, 44
on pottery, 58
sacrifices to ancestors, 2, 124, 165, 214–215, 283, 283
in signifying and toasts, 488
silent, 411–412
superstitions about, 448, 449
tails of, 62
totems, 73, 359
as tricksters, 4, 46, 54, 71, 134–135, 371
animism, 99–100
Anlo-Ewe people, 196
Anozie, Sunday, 306
Antar epic, 225, 226
antelopes, 54
in folktales, 286
as tricksters, 46, 134
anthologies, collections and, 305–306
anticolonialism, 35, 50
antiphony, with call-and-response, 47, 260
Anuak people, 325
Anyidoho, Kofi, 188
Apagya, Philip Kwame, 353
apartheid, 352
colonialism and, 287
Mandela and, 362, 418
Index
1108
theater and, 466
aphorisms, 54–56, 416
Appel, Willa, 336
Appiah, K.A., 338
appliqué traditions, 458
apprenticeship, 107, 133
Apte, Mahadev. L., 196
Apter, Andrew, 128
Arabic folk literature, of North Africa, 5–7
Arabic language, 293–294
Arab(s)
evil eye for, 121
and Jewish music of North Africa, 262–264
in Kenya, 201
in Maghrib, 223–224
in Zanzibar, 486–487
Arbelbide, Cyprien, 119
archipelagos, 42, 181
architecture, 7–10.
See also housing
astronomy’s influence on, 12
in Cote d’Ivoire, 74
in Maghrib, 230
Shona, 432–433
Archives of Traditional Music (ATM), 10–11
Field and Broadcast Sound Recording Collections at, 537–547
Ardener, Edwin, 510
Arewa, Erastus Ojo, 185, 306, 480, 481–482
Armstrong, Robert Plant, 169
Arnaud, Raymond, 133
Arom, Simha, 140
Arraweelo, Queen, 298
Arrow of God (Achebe), 322
art.
See also body arts;
material art forms;
murals;
paintings;
performing arts;
tourism, tourist arts and;
verbal arts;
visual arts
airport, 472, 474
funerary, 43
artists, 292, 308, 356, 473–474.
See also verbal artists, Hausa as;
specific artists
at Mbari-Mbayo workshops, 465
Nsukka, 496
asafie (clay in broad wipes of color), 68
Asante people, 144, 145
Asantehemaa (queen mother), 379, 382
Index
1109
Asantehene (king of Ashanti), 169
colors for, 67, 68
queen mothers and, 379, 382
Asantewaa, Yaa, 379
“Ascending the Escarpment” (Maasai narrative), 367–368
Ashanti Federation, 151
Ashanti people.
See also Anansi (spider);
Asantehene (king of Ashanti)
Baule and, 119
blues music of, 275
history and cultural identity of, 169–170
queen mothers of, 382
Rattray on, 388–389
Yam Customs festival of, 15
Asia, cardinal directions in, 43
Asma’u, Nana, 71
assonance, 374, 470
astrology
Babylonian, 43
healing and, 11–12
astronomy, 11–14
calendars and, 12–13
influence on architecture, 12
atalaku (dance/disc jockeys), 264–265
athletes, 292, 507
ATM. See Archives of Traditional Music
Atowoda (orisha), 325
Atuot people, 325
audience participation, 64.
See also call-and-response with divination/masquerades, 83, 243
in drama, 96–97
with proverbs, 375
in sahir, 403–404
in storytelling, 445
Augustine, St., 318
auriture, 430, 431
Austin, John L., 220
Authenticite, 351
Auto da Floripes theater, 340, 340–342
Avorgbedor, Daniel K., 196, 304
Awad ‘Ali Bedouin people, 145
awaragasia (fables/stories), 62
AWB. See Afrikaanse Weerstands Beweeging
Awolowo, Obafemi, 84
Azande people
ceramics of, 58
dreams and witchcraft of, 100
Evans-Pritchard on, 121, 478–479
Ture of, 476, 478–479
d’Azevedo, Warren, 169, 304
Index
1110
Bâ, Âmadou Hampâte, 306, 318, 365, 366
Ba Aka women, 520, 520, 521, 521
Baanacimbuusa radio program, 110, 111
Baba, Ahmad, 318
babalawos (priests), 93–94, 405
Babalola, S.A., 187, 305
Babalu Aye (orisha), 406
babies, 27, 67
Bachama people, 197, 197–199, 198
witchcraft/sorcery of, 508–509
Bagisu people, 289
Baird, Donald, 347
Baissac, Charles, 182
Bakesigaki, Herbert, 267, 267
Bakhtin, Mikhail, 334
ballet, 466
Les Ballets Africains of the Republic of Guinea, 471
Ballieul, Charles, 136
Bamana people
as blacksmiths, 30, 59
epics of, 113, 114, 116
folktales of, 136–137
puppet masquerade of, 377, 377
Bamba, Amadou, 127, 190–192
Bambara. See Bamana people
Bamileke architecture, 9
Bamun people, 129
Banda-Linda people, 349
Bani Hilal, cycle of, 113
banjos, 15–18, 261
Bantu Linguistic Terminology (Doke), 180
Bantu superstitions, 447–450
Bantustan concept, 466
Banû Hilâl epic, 302, 412–414, 413
Bao, 18–19, 19, 239
baptism, 394
baqqashot ceremonies, 262
Barber, Karin, 145, 320, 336, 350
barbershop, 351, 351
bards.
See also contemporary bards epics and, 115–117
oral texts by, 53–54
southern African, 425
barkcloth, 67
Barnouw, Eric, 126
Barre, Mohammed Siad, 415
Barrett, David, 268
barter system, 30
Barth, Heinrich, 147
Bartok, Bela, 186
Index
Bascom, William R., 19–20, 169
on African American verbal arts, 487
Crowley and, 75
on dilemma tales, 91
research by, 304, 306, 307, 504
basketry
African, 20–22, 21
African American, 22–23
beadwork and, 20–21
masks, 20
music and, 20
Basotho people, 213
praise poetry of, 360–361
proverbs of, 375–376
Bassani, Ezio, 472
Basset, René, 139
Batammaliba people, 9, 12
Bateson, Gregory, 334
bathing
during birth/death rituals, 27–29
during hunting rituals, 30
Batwa people, 401
Baule people
divination of, 91
visual arts, 119–120
Bauman, Richard, 334, 335, 336, 399
Baumann, Hermann, 131, 147, 148
Baumgardt, Ursula, 140
Bay, Edna, 381
Baye Fall people, 190–192, 191
BBC (British Broadcasting Corporation)
films for, 126, 131
Somali Collection, 10
Beach, David, 432
beads.
See also love letters
as dress, 102, 512
trade of, 23, 25, 34–35
beadwork, 23–25
basketry and, 20–21
as body art, 34–35
at Kazuri Beads Company, 24, 25
messages in, 24, 35
Beaujard, Philippe, 182, 234
Beckwith, Carol, 33
Bedie, Henri Konan, 74
Bedouin people, 6
beer, 155, 213–215
Beier, Georgiana, 465
Beier, Ulli, 464, 465, 505
being, greetings as definition of, 157–159
Beja, North Africa, 293
1111
Index
Belgian Congo, 538
Belgium
Lugbara and, 290
Rwanda and, 400–401
Zaire and, 81
Bellman, Beryl, 407
Beloko, Dogobadomo, 180
Bemba people
history and religious rituals of, 173–174
narratives of, 314
Ben Amos, Dan, 184, 185, 334
Bena Ngandu people, 173
Ben-Amos, Paula, 381, 472
Benfey, Theodor, 295
Benin, 26, 538.
See also Dahomey
queen mothers in, 381–382
Benin City, Nigeria, 23, 25
Benjamin, Walter, 445
Bennie, John, 362
Benue-Congo languages, 205
Berber languages, 205–206, 230–231
Berbers
gold trade by, 33
in Maghrib, 228–230, 230–232
in Morocco, 256
in Tunisia, 479
Berglund, A., 100
Berliner, Paul, 337
Beta Israel people, 194–195
Bethe, Monica, 336
Bettleheim, Judith, 244
Bevel, Maurice-Louis, 493
Bí, No Carlos Adé, 93
Biafra, 538
Bible, 315, 386–387.
See also Old Testament
Quran v., 455
translation of, 475, 477
Biebuyck, Brunhilde, 140, 186
Biebuyck, Daniel, 114, 187, 306, 444
Biesele, Marguerite, 424
Big Dipper, 13
Bikoi, Charles Binam, 326–327
Biobaku, Saburi O., 318
Bird, Charles, 11, 187
bird hunter myths, 282–285
bird messenger, 28
birth.
See also childbirth;
procreation;
rebirth
1112
Index
dance for, 78
naming for circumstances of, 288, 289
birth rituals
Gikuyu death and, 26–29
ululation during, 27, 511
birthday parties, 29
birthmarks, 448
p’Bitek, Okot, 105, 144–145, 305
bitondo bya kisi (words of the land), 54
Biya, President, 42
black consciousness, 351, 466
Black History Month, 202
Blackamore, John, 487
Blacking, John, 10
blacksmiths, 371.
See also iron working;
smith-kings
circumcision and, 59, 131
in Dar Zaghawa, 29–30
films on, 133
Mande people as, 30–32
medicine of, 255–256
potters’ relationship with, 59
Blau, Herbert, 336
Bleek, W.H.I., 304, 305, 424
Blier, Suzanne Preston, 12, 498
Bloch, Maurice, 324
Blondy, Alpha, 74
Blooah, C, 187
blood.
See also vampire stories
copper’s association with, 254
folk medical theories on, 249
as libation, 214–215
blood bonds, colors for, 68
blood diamonds, 3, 411
blood feuds, 61
blood-brotherhood pacts, 55
Blue Men, 236
blues music, 17
African American, 260–261
Ashanti, 275
Boadi, Lawrence, 189
Boal, Augusto, 467
Boas, Franz, 120, 121, 478
Bobo people, 127, 129
Bobobo (Ewe music/dance style), 265–266
bocio figures, 498–499
bodily center, 44
body
films on shaping of, 131–132
social, 44
1113
Index
superstitions about, 448, 449
body arts.
See also nsibidi writing system;
tattoos
African, 32–36, 86
African American, 36–38
beadwork as, 34–35
hair sculpture as, 38–39
jewelry as, 33, 38, 512
triggering proverbs, 172
women’s, 32–35, 511–512
body language, 46
body painting, 38
oral texts and, 56
uli wall and, 495–496
Boelaert, E., 304
Bokako, Edison, 425
Bokassa, Jean Bedel, 57
The Bold and the Beautiful (soap opera), 386
Bonaparte, Napoleon, 109
books, 187.
See also handbooks;
writing
comic, 50–51
on Sea Islands, 90
Borana people, 297, 298
Bosman, William, 189
Botswana, 22, 39–40, 538
Bouche, Pierre-Bertrand, 138–139
Boulkhou (marabout/warrior hero), 372, 373
Boumedienne, Houari, 1
Bouquiaux, Luc, 140
Bourdieu, Pierre, 228–230
Bourdillon, Michael, 423, 432
Bourguiba, Habib, 479
bow(s), 278, 278–279, 280.
See also pluriarc
harps, 267, 267
hunting, 278–279
Boxwell, D.A., 338
Boyer, Pascal, 141
boys
dolls and, 95–96
markings for girls v., 102
Braga, Teófilo, 354
Brain, Robert, 510
Braknas musicians, 15
Branco, Jorge Freitas, 353–354
Brandt, Henry, 133
brass, 33, 34, 254
Braukämper, Ulrich, 147
Brazil, 87–89.
1114
Index
1115
See also Afro-Brazilian people;
Afro-Brazilian religions
Bremond, Claude, 140
Brempong, Kwaku Owusu, 188, 196
Brett-Smith, Sarah C., 455
brideprice, 380
bridewealth, 372
cattle and, 61
gourds and, 155
Bridge, Eko, 39
Briggs, Charles L., 335, 336
Britain
chiefs and, 60–61
draughts in, 98–99
Eritrea and, 513
Ewe and, 265
Gambia and, 143
in Indian Ocean Islands, 182
Kenya and, 201, 348
Lesotho and, 213
Lugbara and, 290
Malawi and, 235
Mauritius and, 247
Namibia and, 277
Nigeria and, 292
Rastafari movement and, 386, 388
Rwanda and, 401
Seychelles and, 410
Sierra Leone and, 411
Somalia and, 414
South Africa and, 418
Tanzania and, 453
Togo and, 469
Uganda and, 344
Zanzibar and, 485
British Guiana, 435–436
British South Africa Company (BSACO), 173, 525, 526
Broderick, Modupe, 444
bronzes, 254
Akan, 66
from Ife, 19, 23
Brooks, George, 31
brothers, 159
Brown, Duncan, 359, 421, 422
Brown, James, 265
BSACO. See British South Africa Company
Bubi people, 118
buda (evil eye people), 121, 122
folktales, 240
Buhari, General, 51
Bunseki, Fu-Kiau, 457
Buraimoh, Jimoh, 465
Index
burials
animals’ positions at, 44
beadwork at, 23
of slaves, 45
urns, 58
Burke, Kenneth, 334
Burkina Faso, 40, 538
Cote d’Ivoire and, 74
burlesque players, 71
Burton, John W., 325
Burton, R.R., 305
Burundi, 40, 538
bush spirits, 119, 502–504
Bushman-Hottentot, 257
Bushmen. See San (Bushmen)
businesses, 127
Butcher, H.L.M., 444
Buthelezi, Magogo, 24
Butler, Picayune, 16
Butwa people, 43
bwadi bwa kifwebe society, 494, 494
Bwatiye people, 198–199
Bynum, David, 306
cabildos (societies/clubs)
during carnivals, 48
in Lucumi religion, 405, 406
CABS. See Central African Broadcasting Station
Cachia, Pierre, 6
Cadiz, Ifá Omí Joaquin, 93
calabashes, 153, 156
during birth/death rituals, 27, 28
with nsibidi, 299, 299
Calame-Griaule, Geneviève, 140, 141, 186, 304
calendars
astronomy and, 12–13
celestial names’ relationship to, 11
Egyptian, 12, 13
Islamic and Jewish, 12–13
lunar, 12–13
solar, 12–13
song relationship to, 415
stellar, 12–13
call-and-response, 81–84, 316
antiphony with, 47, 260
in Gahu music, 266
music and, 259
with songs, 416
with storytelling, 441
in verbal arts, 46–47
Callaway, Henry H., 41–42, 304, 426, 428
1116
Index
on storytellers, 443
Camara, Seydou, 114
camels, 8
Cameroon, 42, 538
beadwork in, 24
pidgin/creole in, 348
Campbell, Joseph, 282
Cancel, Robert, 371, 444
Candomblé religion, 46, 87, 88, 391–393, 441
cannibalism, 508, 509
canoes, 503–504
cantometrics, choreometrics v., 128
Cape Verde, 42–43
capoeria (fighting/dancing), 88
C.A.R. See Central African Republic
cardinal directions, 43–45
in myths, 284–285
Caribbean art forms, 498
Caribbean verbal arts, 45–47
carnivals
African American cultures and, 47–50, 48, 49
Crowley on, 75
samba and, 88
Carrington, 304
cartography, 43–45
cartoonists, 50–52
cartoons, 50–53
Carvalho, Rui Duarte de, 356
Casajus, Dominique, 140
Casalis, Eugene, 138, 304, 425
Catholics
influence on music, 269–270
in São Tomé and Príncipe, 394, 393–394
Vodou and, 497–498
cattle.
See also cows
architecture for, 7–9
dances for, 79
in epics, 117
myths about, 297, 402
praises for, 4, 365–366
raids, Maasai, 8–9, 61–62, 167
in riddles, 64
and sorghum grain in Jie cosmology, 137–138
Cauvin, Jean, 141
celebrations
for circumcision/marriages, 26
Empire Day, 69
first-fruit, 201–202
goat-eating parties for, 26, 29
Songye, 494, 494
Celestial Church of Christ, 44–45
1117
Index
1118
celestial names, 11
celestial navigation, 13–14
cemeteries, 497
censorship, of electronic media, 111
center, bodily, 44
Central Africa
epics of, 53–56
folklore of, 53–56
Mami Wata in, 236–238
tourist art of West and, 473
Central African Broadcasting Station (CABS), 110
Central African Republic (C.A.R.), 56–57
Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique (CNRS), 140, 186
ceramics, 57–59
figurative, 58
gender and, 59–60
ceremonial pipes, 57
ceremonies.
See also celebrations;
Ntomo;
religious ceremonies and festivals;
specific ceremonies
baqqashot, 262
coming-of-age, 24, 131
electronic media’s coverage of, 109–110, 110, 111
flag, 397
hukūra (unburying), 28, 29
Mancala at, 239
for names, 85, 162
Nc’wala, 399
Odwira, 67
political oratory in, 323
rain, 130
songs for, 415–416
women in, 511–512
Zâr, 526
Cerulli, Enrico, 525
Cetshwayo, King (Zulu king), 35
Chad, 60, 538
blacksmiths in, 30
Chadic languages, 205
Chadwick, M, II., 310
Chadwick, N.K., 310
Chaff, Gumbo, 17
chalks, 102
Chamba people, 199
chameleon, 54
Chameleon (Ngai’s messenger), 27–28
Cham/Mwona people, 58
chants, 46–47
characters, stereotyped, 463
Charlemagne, 340–341
Index
charms.
See also amulets;
wanga
amulet, 455
cloth, 456–461
dangerous, 508
protective, 459–460
rain, 507
Charsley, S.R., 100
charter myths, 280–281
Chatelain, Heli, 184, 185, 188
Chauveau, Jean-Pierre, 119
checkers. See draughts
Chergui Island, 13
Chernoff, John Miller, 83, 337
Chevrie, Jacques, 141, 306
chiefs, 60–61.
See also okyeame
Ashanti, 169–170
blacksmith, 29–30
colors for, 67
dress for, 101
greetings for, 160
griots and, 162–163, 163
oratory of, 321
praises for, 362
queen mothers and, 380–382
songs for, 415
spirits of, 173
Chifunyise, Stephen, 467
childbirth, 394
children.
See also babies;
birth;
birthmarks;
dolls;
games;
toys
electronic media and, 111–112
films about, 127
initiation of, 397
naming of, 287–289
nicknames for, 65
praises for women and, 359–360, 364
riddles for, 395–396
superstitions regarding, 448–449
in U.K., 84
children’s folklore
click sounds in, 64, 65
Iteso songs of war time and, 61–63
Kunda songs and, 63
of Ndebele people, 63–66
1119
Index
childwitches, 510
Chimerenga music, 433
Chinyanta, 124
ChiShona language, 431
Chokwe people
call-and-response and, 81, 83
ceramics of, 58
Crowley on, 75
history and cultural identity of, 170–171
storytelling by, 145
Chomsky, Noam, 220, 399
chordophones, 267, 276–277, 278, 345.
See also bows;
lutes;
zithers
choreometrics, cantometrics v., 128
Christianity
affect on Gikuyu birth/death rituals, 26, 28–29
Bobobo music and, 265–266
church music and, 268–271
education and, 107–108
evil eye in, 121
Christians.
See also specific countries
in Auto da Floripes, 341
Coptic, 109, 120, 390
Muslims, and Jews in Ethiopia, 194–195
Christmas, Kwanzaa and, 202
chronicles, 318
churches, 44–45
drama involving, 97–98
dreams and, 100–101
influence on music, 268–272
musicians in, 265, 269
opera and, 463
in U.K., 85
cicatrization, 102
circumcision, 27, 183
blacksmiths and, 59, 131
celebration for, 26
ceremonies, 211
dances for, 77, 78
female, 118
of Jews, 194
rituals for, 283, 283, 284
songs for, 416
Cissoko, Babani, 163
Civil War, U.S., 17, 460
civil wars, 506
clan(s).
See also kasàlà
adoption into, 27
1120
Index
1121
jokes, 197, 197–198, 198
naming customs for, 287–288
praises, 114, 358–359
songs, 172
witches/sorcerers through, 252
Clara, Santa, 499
Clark, J.P., 82, 307, 505
Mbari Club and, 464
plays by, 333
A Classification of Folktales of the Northern East African Cattle Area by Types (Arewa), 481
Classiques Africains, 66, 306, 328
Classiques Africains (French collection), 139
clawhammer (style of playing banjo), 16
clay, 67, 68
cleverness, 62
clitoridectomy, 29
clothing.
See also costumes;
dress
of Africans in U.K., 85
basketry and, 20, 23
beadwork on, 23–25
as body art, 33, 37
at funerals, 198
ukara, 299, 299
cloth(s)
adinkra, 66, 67
charms, 456–461
color symbolism of, 66–68
Fon, 26
Itagbe, 454–455
Kanga, 512
Kente, 37, 66, 103, 169, 455
mud-, 103, 455
as proverbs, 455–456
raffia, 457, 459, 493
speech through, 453–456
as symbol of wealth, 457–458
as text, 454–455
ukara, 496
wrapping, 102
clowns, 133, 162
CNRS. See Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique
coffins, 351
Cokwe people, 56
cold houses, 10
collections
anthologies and, 305–306
of recordings, 217, 219
tools to locate, 218–219
colleges, 107, 411
colonialism, 350.
Index
See also administrators, colonial;
anticolonialism;
specific countries
affect on children’s folklore, 65
affect on education, 106–108
affect on folklore, 105, 120, 228
affect on Mami Wata, 238
affect on queen mothers, 379, 382
apartheid and, 287
influence on music, 269
in Madagascar, 233
theater and, 462–464, 465–466, 468
views on witchcraft/magic/sorcery, 507, 510
work songs and, 519, 521
Colonie Belge theme, 351
colors
Akan people on, 66–68
of beadwork, 24, 25
black/dark, 66–68, 507
blue, 68, 102
in magic, 507
in myths, 283–285
Rastafari movement’s, 387, 388
red/russet/orange, 66–68, 507
textile, 457
white, 66–67, 454, 507
comedy, 468–469
Comfa spirit possession dance, 435–437
comic books, 50–51
coming-of-age ceremony
Dipo, 24
films on, 131
communication
with ancestors, 1–3
with beadwork, 24
Jakobson model of, 220
textiles and, 453–456
communion, libation and, 215–216
Comoros, 68–69, 181, 182, 538
comparsa (carnival group), 49–50
compass, 43
concert parties, 69–70, 352
highlife music and, 275–276, 276
paintings for, 69, 70
as popular theater, 463, 464
confraria (religious brotherhood), 393
conga (carnival group), 49
congadas dances, 87–88, 342
Congo, 70–71, 538.
See also Benue-Congo languages;
Danço Congo;
Democratic Republic of Congo;
1122
Index
Niger-Congo linguistic group;
soukous
atalaku music of, 264–265
Congolese Workers Party (PCT), 70
Congress of South African Trade Unions, 431
Conrack (film), 89
Conteh-Morgan, John, 307
contemporary bards, 71–72
Conwill, Houston, 45
“The Coon in the Box” (Blackamore), 487
Cooper, Carolyn, 308
Coplan, David, 423, 430, 431
copper, 254–256
Coptic Christians, 109, 120, 390.
See also Egyptian Coptic music
coral, 34
Cordeiro, Luciano, 354
Cordwell, Justine, 169
corn market/auction, 224, 224
corn-shucking songs, 16
Corona, Giuseppe, 472
corporate epics, 117
Côrrea, Mendes, 354–355
Cosentino, Donald, 82–83, 306
cosmic rhythms, 448–449
cosmograms, 458–460
cosmology, 72–73
cattle and sorghum grain in Jie, 137–138
Ocha, 405–406
of West Africa, 1
Cosquin, E., 295
costumes
during carnivals, 48, 48–50, 49
masks and, 97, 119
Mobutu’s, 157
Cote d’Ivoire, 73–74
folklore of, 74–75
gold in, 33
courtship dances, 291, 345, 345
Cousins, William, 233
cows, 298
Cradock, Reverend, 16
craftspeople, 430–431
films on, 127
creation myths, 280–281, 390, 424, 517
Creider, Chet A., 150, 151
creole languages, 89, 206–209
pidgin and, 347–349, 410
in São Tomé and Príncipe, 340
Creole people
of São Tomé and Príncipe, 165
Suriname, 167–168
1123
Index
creolization, of Indian Ocean Islands, 181–183
crocodiles, 117, 150, 173
Crow, Jim, 17
Crowley, Daniel J., 75–76, 169, 306
Crowther, Samuel Ajayi, 475
CTV. See Kano Tv
Cuba
carnivals in, 47–50
Ifá divination in, 93–94
Santeria in, 405–407
cult(s), 2.
See also spirit-possession cults
myths, 280–281
secret, masquerades in, 462
Zâr, 130, 295, 398, 438, 525–526
cultural identity
Ashanti history and, 169–170
Chokwe history and, 170–171
cultural morphology, 141
culture heroes, 281
Aardvark, 370
and origins of Nilotic people, 324–328
culture(s).
See also popular culture
African American carnivals and, 47–50, 48, 49
in Brazil, 89
dreams and, 101
expressive, women’s, 510–512
government’s influence on, 156–157
immigrants and, 84, 86
instruments in, 277
material, Shona, 432–433
music as expression of, 273–274
Nubian, 44
proverb in, 374–375
Cunnison, Ian, 319
Curley, R., 100–101
Curling, Chris, 131
currency
Abacha’s portrait on, 52
beads as, 23, 25
brass as, 34
gold as, 33, 119
curses, 508
Curupira (Afro-Brazilian character), 88
Cushitic languages, 205
da Gama, Vasco, 485
Daaku, K.Y., 318
Dagomba people, 10
Dahomean Narrative:
1124
Index
1125
A Cross-Cultural Analysis (Herskovits), 168–169
Dahomey, 26, 539
Dahomey people
Herskovits on, 168–169
silverwork of, 33–34
Daka people, 199
Dakar-Djibouti mission, 161
Dale, Andrew Murray, 305, 443
Dalilah, in The Arabian Nights, 303
Dammann, Ernst, 147
Dampierre, Eric de, 66
Dan people, 500
Dance, Daryl Cumber, 308, 489–490
dances, 77–80, 333.
See also masked dances
agricultural, 167, 243–244
animals and, 78–79
Arab/Jewish, 263
atalaku, Congo, 264–265
by Baye Fall people, 191, 191–192
at carnivals, 49–50
for circumcision, 77, 78
congadas, 87–88, 342
courtship, 291, 345, 345
death, 290–291
dress for, 103
in epics, 113
Ewe music and, 265–266
during festivals, 124–125
films on, 128
gumboot, 521
hair, 263
harvest, 78, 79
hunting, 176
instruments with, 342–343
involving trances, 77, 190, 192
mas, 49
music and, 258–259
and music in Uganda, 266–268, 267, 345–346
Namibian, 77–80
snake, 167
supernatural and, 78, 242
Umhlanga/Reed, 35
Danço Congo, 342, 342
Dankwairo, 71
Dao, Burkinabe Mustapha, 127
Dar Zaghawa, blacksmiths of, 29–30
darme (illness), 251
Daufuskie Islands, 89, 90
Davis, Angela, 38
Davis, Gerald L., 489
Davis, Mela, 334
Index
1126
de Conti, Nicolas, 14
de Ganay, Solange, 139
de Gaulle, Charles, 70
de Heusch, Luc, 148
de Klerk, F.W., 362
the dead
alcoholic fermentation and, 284
communication with, 390–391, 405
dressing, 37
feeding of, 215
death.
See also funerals
ancestors and, 1–2
basketry for, 21
body position and rituals for, 12, 28, 44–45
color symbolism for, 67–68
dances, 290–291
Gikuyu rituals of birth and, 26–29
and rebirth in initiations, 183–184
superstitions about, 449
debates, public, 322–323
decorated vehicles, in Nigeria, 80
Deglaire, Pierre, 136
deities, 392–393.
See also demiurges;
orishas;
orixás
Bes, 294
Bessem, 392
in cosmology, 72
Erinle, 58
Exu, 392
Gikuyu, 26–27
Hindu, 46
Iansa, 392
Iemanjâ, 392
Jie, 137–138
names for, 72
Nanã Buruku, 392
Obatala, 326, 406
Ogbwide, 237
in relation to folk medicine, 247–249
Sun, 12
tricksters as, 134
Delafosse, Maurice, 139
on Bamana folktales, 136
on Baule visual arts, 119
Deliwe (radio drama), 385
Deluz, Ariane, 129
demiurges, 281
Democratic Movement for Malagasy Renovation (MDRM), 234
Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), 81.
Index
See also atalaku
cardinal directions in, 43
music in, 258, 264–265
popular dance music in, 272–274, 521
Demystification Program, 156
Deng, F.M., 325
Dennis Duerden Collection, 11
DePace, Joseph, 45
Deren, Maya, 460
Derive, Jean, 140, 141
deserts, 8, 293
architecture in, 7–9
epic of, 413–414
Desparmet, Jean, 6
Dessalines, Jean-Jacques, 497
devil figure, 286
Dhlomo, H.I.E., 333
dialect tales, 487–488
Diallo, Yêro Dôro, 366
dialogic performances:
call-and-response in African narrating, 81–84
diamonds, blood, 3, 411
Diarra, Abdoulaye, 136
Dias, Baltasar, 340–341
Dias, Jorge, 355
diaspora
African communities in U.K., 84–85
African communities in United States, 85–87
African traditions in Brazil, 87–89
Sea Islands of United States, 89–90
Diawara, Manthia, 126
Dickens, Charles, 17
Diederichs, Eugen, 147
Dieng, Bassirou, 114
Dieterlen, Germaine, 161
on ethnology, 139
films by, 127, 129, 132
Dieu, François de, 132
Dike, Kenneth Onwuka, 318
dilemma tales, 90–91, 395
in Caribbean, 46
Mende, 369–370
Tabwa, 371
Dingiswayo, King, 35
Dinka people, 297, 325
Dinslage, Sabine, 147
Dinuzulu, King, 426
Dior, Lat, 163
Diouf, Abdou, 409
diplomacy, 302
dirges, 55, 514
disc jockeys, 264–265
1127
Index
diseases. See illness
dissertations, theses and, 218, 549–554
divination, 91–92.
See also Ifá divination
astrology and, 11
audience response to, 83
Bascom on, 19
Callaway on, 41–42
in Central Africa, 55
Chokwe and, 171
Condomblé, 393
dreams and, 100
evil eye through, 121
films on, 130–131
gourds in, 155
household, Kongo and, 92–93
magic with, 507
puppetry in, 376–377
in São Tomé and Príncipe, 165–166, 407
secrecy and, 408–409
spirit possession and, 91, 92–93, 130–131, 290
divinities, 89, 130
Djenne-Jeno figures, 23
Djibouti, 94–95
djinns (spirits), 117, 181
doctors, 31, 252
Dodo (evil spirit/monster), 71, 220–221
Doe, Samuel, 216
Dogon people
films on, 127–128, 129, 131, 132, 133
Griaule, Marcel, on, 161–162
myths of, 4, 127
rock paintings by, 43
textiles of, 454
words and, 517–519
Doke, C.M., 180, 304, 305
dolls, 90
fertility, 96, 169
toys and, 95–96
of Vodun religion, 458, 460
Dolphyne, Florence Abena, 144
Domajiri (first human), 32
Domina, Lynn, 338
Domowitz, Susan, 327, 456
Dorson, Richard, 19, 184, 319
on African American verbal arts, 487
research by, 305, 307
Douglas, Mary, 189
Douglass, Frederick, 16
the dozens, 489
drama, 308, 335–336
Anang Ibibio, 96–98
1128
Index
1129
radio and television, 385–386, 464
draughts, 98–99
DRC. See Democratic Republic of Congo
dreadlocks, 29, 36, 387, 388
Dreaming Religion and Society in Africa (Jedrej/Shaw), 101
dreams, 99–101
oral texts inspired by, 53, 55
superstitions about, 447, 449
dress, 101–103
beads as, 102, 512
body art, identity and, 36–37
for dances, 103
for festivals, 124–125
folk, 485
of Santeria religion, 37, 50
women’s, symbolism of, 512
dressmaking, 103
Drewal, Henry, 11, 454
drum(s), 259.
See also membranophones;
talking drums
in Ewe music and dance, 265–266
names, 54
oral texts and, 54–56
Rastafari movement’s, 388
as symbol, 278
trances induced by, 435–436
Vodou and, 498
Duarte, Rui, 127
Dube, Caleb, 358, 422
duel-gender political system, 379–382
Dumestre, Gérard, 136, 141, 186
Dumon, Dirk, 126
Dundes, Alan, 121, 140, 184, 304
on dozens, 489
on folklore, 421
morphological schema of, 482
duppy (ghost stories), 46
Dupuis, A.A., 139
Durant, Alessandro, 324
Dutch people
Mauritius and, 247
South Africa and, 418
Dwala people, 53
dwarves
in concert parties, 70
Sinzero, 297
Dyula people
as blacksmiths, 30
as potters, 59
songs of, 416–418
Dzobo, N., 2
Index
1130
EACROTANAL. See East African Center for Research in Oral Traditions and African National
Languages
East Africa
folklore of, 105–106
legends of, 210–213
naming customs for, 288–289
tongue twisters from, 469–470
tourist art of, 473–474
urban folk speech of, 410
East African Center for Research in Oral Traditions and African National Languages
(EACROTANAL), 105, 218
Eastman, Carol, 149, 151
Echard, Nicole, 133
Eder, Alan, 265
education, 106–109.
See also colleges;
schools;
universities
in English colonies, 107–108
health/farming, 111, 112
in Maghrib, 226, 230
puppetry for, 376, 378
of queen mothers, 382
touring performance groups and, 471
TV drama for, 385
in U.K., 84
World Bank’s involvement in, 42, 108
Edwards, Paul, 84
Egharevba, Jacob, 318
Egungun ancestral mask cult, 2
Egypt, 109, 292–296
sound recording collections from, 539
Sudan and, 446
Egyptian Coptic music, 10
Ejagham people
masquerades by, 244–246
nsibidi of, 299–300
ekon (drama societies), 97
Ekpa masquerades, 244–246, 245
Ekpe society, 496
Ekwensi, Cyprian, 505
El-Badawi, El-Sayyid, 294
elders, 110.
See also gerontocracy;
old man and old woman
electronic media.
See also radios;
recordings;
television
affect on griots, 163
Index
censorship of, 111
influence on music, 259
and oral traditions, 109–113
Elegba (god), 329, 406
elegies, 55
elephant, 286
tricksters v., 476, 477
Eliade, Mircea, 4
Elisofon, Eliot, 129
Ellert, H., 432
Elliptical Building, 8
Ellis, Stephen, 153
El-Shamy, Hasan, 185, 296
embroidery, 102–103
emotions, 64, 71, 221
in music, 260
Emphirim-Donkor, Anthony, 2
Empire Day celebrations, 69
Enekwe, Ossie, 307
England.
See also United Kingdom
Botswana and, 39
Cameroon and, 42
field and broadcast collections from, 539
Ghana and, 151–152
institutional study in, 184, 186
Libya and, 220
Madagascar and, 232–233
Sudan and, 446
English colonies, 107–108
English (language).
See also pidgin language
Black v. Standard, 487, 488
Engsh language, 410
enigmas, 417
Eno-Belinga, S.M., 305, 306
entertainment
puppets as, 376–378, 377
songs for, 417, 521
entrepreneurial folklore, 430–431
environment, 60–61
Epic of Son-Jara (Johnson), 114
epics, 113–114, 317.
See also geste
Antar, 225, 226
Bamana, 113, 114, 116
Banû Hilâl, 302, 412–414, 413
bards and, 115–117
blacksmiths in, 31
of Central Africa, 53–56
corporate, 117
dances in, 113
1131
Index
of deserts, 413–414
Fulani, 365–366
griots and, 113, 115–117, 162–163
of Haya, 105
historical, 115–116
Ibonia, 113, 182
Liongo, 114–115
March Westwards, 412–414
Ngoma-lungundu, 427
North African, 412–414
performance of, 315–316
religious, 117
Sîrat Banî Hilâl, 412–414
South African, 420
Sundiata, 113, 163, 236, 318
Sunjata, 32, 113, 116, 117, 281, 316, 505
Swahili, 113, 114–115
West African, 115–117
epithets, 221
Equatorial Guinea, 118
Equiano (African man), 15
Equilbecq, François-Victor, 504
as collector, 136, 139
research by, 304
Erich von Hornbostel Demonstration Collection, 11
Eritrea, 118, 120
women of, 512–514, 513
Eritrean liberation movement, 118, 120
Esa-Ogbin, 467–468
Eshu trickster, 477–478
esono (red dye), 68
essays, 306
esthetics: Baule visual arts, 119–120
Esu (god), 326
Esu-Elegba (god), 329
Ethiopia, 120, 539
Eritrea and, 513
Italy and, 120, 162
Jews of, 194–195
ethnic factionalism, 110–111
ethnic groups
jokes about, 484
legends about, 211
The Ethnological Museum, 353–354
ethnology, 139–141
Etienne, Mona, 119
Etienne, Pierre, 119
Europe, institutional study in, 186–187
European languages, 206–207
on radio/TV, 386
Evans, David, 487
Evans-Pritchard, Sir Edward Evans, 91, 120–121
1132
Index
on Azande people, 121, 478–479
on dreams, 100
on magic/sorcery, 507, 508
on names, 288
on Nilotic people, 325
with Oxford Library of African Literature, 328
on performance, 444
evil
Eshu and, 478
superstitions and, 448–449
evil eye, 121–122, 182.
See also buda;
sahir
fear of, 484
illness/disease and witches’, 252
protection against, 165, 248, 404, 404
witchcraft and, 509
Evora, Cesaria, 43
Ewe people.
See also Anlo-Ewe people
cosmology of, 72–73
music and dance of, 265–266, 349
excisions, 183
blacksmiths performing, 59
female, 131
exorcisms, 130, 263, 439
Eyadema, Gnassingbe, 469
eye. See evil eye
Fabian, Johannes, 125, 126, 351
fables, 62, 371
Fabunmi, Adebisi, 465
Fagunwa, D.O., 464
fairy tales, 147.
See also märchen
Fakoli (blacksmith), 32
Fali people, 96
Fall, Ibrahima, 190–192
families.
See also clans;
genealogies;
lineages
free-born v. jeli, 515–516
Hontondji, 33
naming customs for, 288, 289
orphan motif and, 326–327
power object for, 434
Fanakalo language, 348
Fang people
architecture of, 10
in Equatorial Guinea, 118
1133
Index
1134
Fanta Maa people, 117
fantasy, 445
Fanti language, 69
FAO. See Food and Agricultural Organization
farmers
architecture for, 7–9
education for, 111, 112
rain charms for, 507
songs for, 417, 520
tools for, 31
Farquhar, J.H., 151
Fashole-Luke, E.W., 2
Fâsî, Muh’ammad al-, 6
Fauble, Jacques, 233
female(s)
circumcision, 118
divination by, 92, 94
excision, 131
in folktales, 136
as potters, 29, 30–31
as sorcerers, 30
Fernandex, Andre, 475
Fernandez, James, 3, 169
fertility
dolls, 96, 169
drums and, 277
films on, 132
rites, 224–225
festivals.
See also celebrations
for ancestors, 2
arts, 108
blacksmiths in songs at, 31
dances during, 124–125
electronic media’s coverage of, 109
films on, 127, 131–132, 133
Gelede, 129
Junkanoo, 49, 49
mask, 31
masquerades for, 243–244
Mutomboko, 123–125
puppets in, 377
and religious ceremonies in São Tomé and Príncipe, 393–395, 394
in Swaziland, 451
yam, 15, 33
Fiawoo, D.K., 2
fiction, 308
fiddlers, 16
Field and Broadcast Sound Recording Collections at ATM, 537–547
field hollers, 16
Fieloux, 130, 133
fighting. See capoeria (fighting/dancing)
Index
figures
bocio, 498–499
devil, 286
Djenne-Jeno, 23
ritual, 95–96
wooden, 66, 498–499
filmography, 549–554
films, 125–134
on blacksmiths, 133
in Burkina Faso, 40
at concert parties, 69
on games, 129
as inspiration for decorated vehicles, 80
television and, 126, 129, 133, 353
Finnegan, Ruth, 121, 186
on call-and-response, 81, 82
on gender, 144
influence of, 148, 305–307
on Limba storytelling, 441–442
on music, 337
on political oratory, 324
Finnish School, 480
fire, 64
first-fruit celebrations, 201–202
fish, Ijo water ethos and, 502–504, 503
Fisher, Angela, 33
fishermen, 13–14
fishing
basketry for, 21
in epics, 117
fitula (ceremonial candelabra), 44
Flacourt, E. de, 18, 182
flags
ceremonies, 397
Herero, 102
flowers, 523–524
flutes, 277, 277
flywhisk, 242
Fodio, Usman dan, 71
folklore, as term, 156, 166, 184, 311–313
Abrahams on, 483
Dundes on, 421
Tylor/Boas on, 125
folktales, 134–136
Amerindian, 46
animals in, 28, 226, 286, 297–298, 402, 518
Asante, 144, 145
Bamana, 136–137
buda, 240
Caribbean, 46–47
dilemma tale v., 90
food in, 64
1135
Index
1136
huja, 240
jokes and, 196
Maghrib, 225–226
Moba, 147
myths v., 280
Ndebele, 63–64
tricksters in, 134–135
Folktales (Abioye), 50–51
Fon people, 381
cloth of, 26
food.
See also specific food
in Brazil, 88
chiefs and, 60
at festivals, 123, 124
in folktales, 64
gathered while hunting, 176
for immigrants to U. S., 86
during Kwanzaa, 202
as libation, 213–215
medicine for bewitchment of, 252
in myths/rituals, 282–285
as protective medicine, 249
vendors, 138
Food and Agricultural Organization (FAO), 111
foodways
cattle and sorghum grain in Jie cosmology, 137–138
Yoruba food vendors, 138
Forman, Charles, 268
formulae
of folktales, 135, 136
of prose narratives, 491
Forros people, 165–166, 340–343, 393
fortresses, 7
Fortune, George, 358, 423
Fourah Bay College, 411
Fournel, Aimé, 133
fox, 148, 297, 321
France
Benin and, 26
Cameroon and, 42
Chad and, 60
chiefs and, 61
Comoros and, 69
Congo and, 70
Cote d’Ivoire and, 74–75
Djibouti and, 95
draughts in, 98–99
field and broadcast collections from, 539
Guinea and, 156, 164
Haiti and, 208
in Indian Ocean Islands, 182
Index
institutional study in, 186
Libya and, 220
Madagascar and, 223
Maghrib and, 223, 228, 231–232
Mali and, 236, 515
Mauritania and, 247
Mauritius and, 247
Morocco and, 256
Niger and, 291
Rwanda and, 400
Senegal and, 409
Seychelles and, 410
Tunisia and, 479
Zanzibar and, 485
Franklin, C.L, 489
Frazer, Sir James George, 356, 422
free-born women/families, 515–516
Freeman, R.A., 324
Freire, Gilberto, 356
Freire, Paulo, 467
FRELIMO (Mozambique freedom movement), 257
French colonies, 107
French Equatorial Africa, 539
French language. See specific countries
French study, 138–141
Fretz, Rachel I., 145
Freud, Sigmund, 140, 148
on dreams, 100, 101
on evil eye, 121
Frobenius, Leo Viktor, 114, 141–142, 504
collections by, 282, 304
on Songye, 493
theories by, 147–148
From My People (Dance), 489–490
Fry, Gladys-Marie, 459
Frye, 37
Fula people
epics of, 113, 114
as potters, 59
Fulani jihad (holy war), 71, 117
Fulani people
architecture of, 8, 10
epics of, 116–117
hairstyles of, 39
prose and poetry of, 365–367
funerals.
See also burials;
cemeteries;
coffins;
hukura;
mortuary songs;
the dead;
1137
Index
wakes
ancestors and, 2
clothing at, 198
colors for, 66–68
films on, 132–133
formal speech during, 290–291
Gikuyu death rituals and, 26
gourds in, 155
Kuiye and, 12
masquerades as part of, 75, 243–244
music at, 264, 273, 518
puppetry for, 376
São Tomé and Príncipe, 394
songs for, 415
funerary art, 43
Furniss, Graham, 71, 334
Ga people, 44
Gaalu people, 167
Gabon, 143, 539
Gabriel (angel), 45
Gaden, Henri, 139
Gahu music/dance style, 265–266
Gallieni, Joseph, 233
Gallo, Donate, 353
Gambia, 143, 539
pidgin/creole in, 347
games.
See also Bao;
draughts;
Mancala;
riddles;
Wari
children’s, 63–65, 89, 106
films on, 129
speech and, 220
Gamitto, A.C. P., 437
gardens, African American yards and, 523–524
Garine, Igo de, 133
Gates, Henry Louis, Jr., 338
Gauthier, Jean, 133
Gawole, Dido, 297
Gbaya people, 53, 180
GBC. See Ghana Broadcasting Corporation
Gebauer, Paul, 19
Geertz, Clifford, 334
Geider, Thomas, 148
Gelede festival, 129
Gelede society, 4
Gelfand, Michael, 432
gender, 143–146.
1138
Index
See also duel-gender political system;
men;
women
basketry and, 21–22
beadwork and, 24
ceramics and, 59–60
dances and, 78
dress and, 102, 485
in films, 132
greetings according to, 157–161
of heroes, 166
in Indian Ocean Island folklore, 181
instruments and, 516
jokes and, 196
Lugbara speech and, 290
masks/masquerades and, 241, 244–246, 332
metal workers and, 255
of musicians, 273, 279
nsibidi and, 299–300
oratory and, 321
secrecy and, 408
for songs, 417
of sorcerers/witches, 508, 509
spirit possession and, 438–439, 441
for textile makers, 456–459
in Tiv performing arts, 343–344
in Uganda performing arts, 344
uli painting and, 495–496
in women’s expressive culture, 511, 512
in Zâr, 525–526
genealogies, 162, 211, 440
genies, 116, 184, 225, 402
Genini, Izza, 512
genocide, Rwandan tales of, 401–402
genres, 6, 53–54.
See also specific genres
German study, 146–149
Germany
Cameroon and, 42
highlife music in, 275
Namibia and, 277, 287
Rwanda and, 400–401
Tanzania and, 453
Togo and, 469
Zanzibar and, 485
gerontocracy, 517
Geschiere, Peter, 152
Gessain, Monique, 129
Gessain, Robert, 129
Geste of Samba Gueladio Diegui, 116
geste (set of epic poems), 116, 228
gestures, 149–151, 209.
1139
Index
1140
See also body language
nsibidi, 299
sign language and, 411
during storytelling, 373
Ghana, 151–152
field and broadcast collections from, 539–540
gold trade and, 33
green revolution in, 39
institutional study in, 188
music and dance in, 265–266
pidgin/creole in, 348
women of, 514–515
Ghana Broadcasting Corporation (GBC), 111–112
Gharbi Island, 13
ghost stories, 46
giants, 70
Gibbs, James L., 131
Gibson, Kean, 435–436
Giika people, 167
Gikuyu people
birth and death rituals of, 26–29
naming customs for, 289
Gilet, Peter, 296
girls
dolls and, 95–96
initiations of, 174
markings for boys v., 102
“The Girl Who Married a Crow” (Maasai narrative), 368
Gleason, Judith, 131, 335
GNU. See Government of National Unity
goat-eating parties, 26, 29
God, 391.
See also Supreme Being
ancestors’ relationship to, 2
in folktales, 226
libations to, 214–215
masks and, 129
in relation to folk medicine, 247–249
goddess
Onile, 454–455
Oshun/Osun river, 326, 511
Yemoja, 326
gods.
See also deities;
divinities;
orishas;
specific gods
Amma, 517
in concert parties, 70
in myths, 281, 297
Zañahary, 282, 285
Goffman, Erving, 334
Index
1141
gold, 254
as color, 68
as currency, 33, 119
Gold Coast, 152
gold trade on, 33
The Golden Trade of the Aethiopians (Jobson), 15
The Golden Trade or a Discovery of the River Gamba [Gambia] (Jobson), 15
Goldstein, Kenneth S., 334
Goldstuck, Arthur, 430
goldwork, 33, 66
Gonja people, 10
Goody, Jack, 523
Görög-Karady, Veronika, 136, 139, 140, 141, 186
essays by, 306
on oral performance, 335
gospel music, 261, 270, 276
gossip and rumor, 152–153
gourds, 153–156.
See also calabashes
instruments, 16, 153–156, 154
Government of National Unity (GNU), 70, 418
governments.
See also nongovernmental organizations
influence of, 105, 106, 108, 294
KwaZulu, 35
policies, 156–157, 181
graffiti, 484
Graham-White, Anthony, 96
grain, sorghum, 137–138
granaries, 9
Grand’Henry, Jacques, 6
Grant, E.W., 324
Green, M.M., 304
Greenberg, Joseph, 205, 304
greetings, Kerebe, 157–161
Griaule, Marcel, 161–162, 304
on Dogon, 127, 517
on ethnology, 139, 140
films by, 127, 129, 132
Grimm Brothers, 148, 295, 479
griots, griottes and, 162–164.
See also bards
epics and, 113, 115–117, 162–163
films on, 128, 133
Gambian, 143
instruments used by, 15–17, 162–163, 163
on radio, 112
Guan people, 13
Gueunier, Noël, 181
Gugelchuk, Gary M., 441
Guinea, 164, 540.
See also Equatorial Guinea;
Index
1142
Les Ballets Africains of the Republic of Guinea
France and, 156, 164
Guinea-Bissau, 164
“The Guinea Negro Song,” 16
guitars, 15, 17, 260, 261
in popular music, 352
Gullah language, 19, 89
Guma, Sam, 358
gumboot dances, 521
Gumperz, J.J., 334
Gunner, Elizabeth, 144, 306, 334
on oral traditions, 430, 431
on praise poetry, 357, 358, 422
Gur languages, 205
Gussi people, 122
Gutmann, Bruno, 107, 147
Guyana, spirit possession dances in, 435–437
Gwala, Mafika, 357, 358, 422
Haberland, Eike, 147
Hacquard, Father, 139
Hadaheed blacksmiths, 29–30
hadith traditions, 240, 318
hadra ritual, 263
hairstyling.
See also dreadlocks of African v. Caucasian hair, 38
bodily center and, 44
as body art, 33, 36–39
films on, 131
of immigrants to U.S., 86
Haiti
France and, 208
Vodou and, 45, 496–499
Haitian language, 207–208
Hale, Thomas, 307, 335
Halliday, Michael, 423
Hama, Boubou, 318
Hama ya Ngai Mutuura Muoyo (Tent of the Living God) religious group, 29
Hamito-Semitic languages, 205–206
Hamutyinei, M.A., 432
handbooks, 218
Hannan, Michael, 151
Hanson, Paul, 234
hare
ideophones in praises of, 180
Opooi, 62
tortoise and, 492
as trickster, 46, 134, 281, 286, 314, 476–477
“Hare and Other Animals” (Maasai narrative), 368–369
Haring, Lee, 234, 306, 482
harmonicas, 261
Index
1143
Harper, Peggy, 129
Harris, Joel Chandler, 487
harvest.
See also Kwanzaa
dances, 78, 79
rituals, 138
Hasan, Abbakar, 444
Hausa people
drama about, 97
-Fulani, 71–72
gestures of, 151
gourd use by, 154–156
medicine of, 250–251
as potters, 59
Rattray on, 388–389
television for, 112
as verbal artists, 71–72, 220–221
Haviland, John, 44
Haya people, 82
epics of, 105
gender in tales of, 145
rumors of, 153
Head, Johanna, 128, 132
head coverings, 102–103
headties, 512
headwraps, 36
Heald, S., 131
healing.
See also medicines;
ritual healing, Vodou
ancestors and, 2
astrology and, 11–12
in Central Africa, 55
Chokwe and, 171
and curing vocation through lineages, 253
dances for, 77–79
films on, 130
folklore as, 62
Hausa on, 250–251
Mami Wata and, 236–237
and spirit possession in São Tomé and Príncipe, 165–166
supernatural and, 88
healing rituals, 398
mystic orders and, 262–263
health.
See also illness
greetings regarding, 160–161
indigenous therapeutic systems and, 251–254
palaver with, 332
Shona on healing and, 433
health education, 111, 112
films for, 126
Index
theater for, 466
Henige, David, 217
Henkel, Jacqueline M., 220
Henry, Claudius, 387
Henshaw, James Ene, 333
herbs.
See also Osanyin (god of herbalism)
marijuana, 387
in medicine, 248–254
praise songs for, 437
Herder, Johann Gottfried, 144, 148
Herero people
flags of, 102
Otjiserandu Commemorations of, 397, 398, 399
Herodotus, 317, 475
heroes, 166–167.
See also culture heroes;
trickster heroes
Aligouran, 372, 373
in epics, 113, 115–117
hairstyles for, 39
initiations of, 183–184
in legends, 210–212
Mango, 211–212
Musa Wo, 370
in northeastern African folklore, 297
praise songs for blacksmiths and, 31–32
praises for, 361
Sagwa, 211–212
in Sukuma prose narratives, 167
Tuti, 212
heroic poetry, 419–420, 424–426
Herrera, Adechina Ño Remigio, 93
Herskovits, Frances S., 11, 167–169
Herskovits, Melville J., 11, 167–169
Bascom and, 19
Crowley and, 75
Herzog, George, 10, 187
Herzog, Werner, 132
Heusch, Luc de, 127, 172
highlife music, 275–276, 276 352, 463
Hill, Linda, 334
Hilmiyya Nights (TV show), 385
Hilton Head, 89, 90
Hima, Manama, 127
Himmelheber, Hans, 11, 119
Hindu deities, 46
Hindus, 486
hip-hop music, 265, 352, 488–489
historical epics, 115–116
Historic-Geographic Method, 480
history, 156.
1144
Index
1145
See also oral historiography;
oral history
and cultural identity of Ashanti people, 169–170
and cultural identity of Chokwe people, 170–171
Luba folklore and, 171–173
puppetry for ritual and, 376–377
and religious rituals of Bemba people, 173–174
histrionics, 135, 316
HIV/AIDS, 378, 430, 466
in Malawi, 236
in South Africa, 418, 505–506
in TV drama, 385
in Uganda, 483
in Zambia, 525
in Zimbabwe, 527
Hodgson, W.B., 231
Hodza, Aaron, 358, 423
Hollis, A.C, 367
Holm, John, 207
Holomisa, Bantu, 430
Holy, L., 101
Homeric epics, 314, 320
Hontondji family, 33
The Horn. See northeastern African folklore
Horton, Christian, 265
Houis, Maurice, 141
Houphouet-Boigny, Felix, 74
household divination, 92–93
housing, 174–175
basketry and, 20, 23
cardinal directions and, 43–44
compound, 7, 9
Mangbetu, 56
razing of, 29
Songye, 493
urban, 8–9
for women, 10
Howell, Leonard, 387
Huffman, R., 325
hukura (unburying) ceremonies, 28, 29
humans, 32.
See also body;
Nommo (proto-human beings)
animals’ relationship with, 3–5, 442
as cause of illnesses/diseases, 252–253
in cosmology, 72–73
and livestock medicine, 247–250
in myths, 281–282
in northeastern folklore, 297–298
words and, 517–518
humor, jokes and, 195–197.
See also cartoons
Index
1146
Hunde society, 54
Hunt, George, 121, 478
hunting, 175–177; 175, 176
bows, 278–279
dances, 176
in epics, 117
rituals for, 30
songs, 415, 417, 520
tools for, 31
Hurreiz, Sayyid Hammid, 187
Hurston, Zora Neale, 460
on African American verbal arts, 487
studies/research by, 334–338
husbands, 159–160
Hutu people, 400–401
hyena
in folktales, 28, 286
mythical, 195
as trickster, 46, 371
hyire (white clay), 67
Hymes, Dell, 334, 399
hyperbole, 135
hypo-icons, 44
I Could Talk Old Story Good: Creativity in Bahamian Folklore (Crowley), 75
IASOTA. See International Association for the Study of Oral Traditions in Africa
Ibibio language, drama in, 96–98
Ibibio people, 490–493.
See also Anang Ibibio drama
Ibn Batutu, 318
Ibn Khaldun, 225, 228
Ibonia epic, 113, 182
Ibrahim, Abdullah Ali, 334
ICAMD. See International Centre for African Music and Dance
idamen iru (tale type), 373
identity.
See also cultural identity
African American body art and, 36–37
baby’s, 27
colors as symbols of, 66–68
divination and, 93
dress and, 101–103
through epics, 115, 116–117
and folklore of Kunda people, 179
Itesos’, 62
jewelry as emblem of, 33
during masquerades, 244–246
naming customs and, 287–288
personal experience narratives and, 347
spirit possession and, 438–439
voice-disguisers and, 97
Index
1147
ideographs, 458–459
ideophones, 46, 180–181, 220–221
with folktales, 135
gestures and, 149–150
for silence, 411–412
Idiagbon, General, 51
idiophones, 267, 277, 345.
See also xylophones
Idowu, Bolaji, 2
Ifá divination, 91, 92
in Cuba, 93–94
myths of, 281, 314
Ifa Divination: Communication Between Men and God (Bascom), 19
Ife (town), 19, 23
Ifeka, Caroline, 381
Ifijioku (yam spirit), 58
Igbo people
drama about, 97
uli painting of, 495–496
ihamuriro genre, 53, 55
ihano genre, 53
Ijo languages, 205
Ijo people, 318
water ethos of, 502–504
ILCAA. See Institute for the Study of Languages and Cultures of Asia and Africa
Iliad (Homer), 297
illness.
See also doctors
blacksmiths as curers of, 31
from breach of taboos, 248, 253–254
color for, 67
folk medicine for, 248–249
healing of, 166
humans as cause of diseases and, 252–253
myths about disease and, 251–254
superstitions about, 448
Ilunga, Kalala, 172
imam (village groups), drama of, 97–98
imayen (story type), 373
imbongi (poet), 362, 363, 364
IMF. See International Monetary Fund
immigration, 237
improvisation, 457–458, 461, 464
incantations, 252
incest, 136
incisions, 43, 253.
See also excisions
indexes
Aarne-Thompson type, 294, 295–296
for research, 218
India, 485–486
Indian Ocean Islands, 181–183.
Index
1148
See also Comoros;
Madagascar;
Mauritania;
Réunion, La;
Seychelles
Indiana University, 184–185, 187, 336.
See also Archives of Traditional Music
dissertations and theses at, 555
Indianist theory, 295
indigenous therapeutic systems, 251–254
Indirect Rule, 107
indulu (Zulu house), 9
infumba (game), 64
inganekwane (folktales), 63–64
initiations, 183–184
baanacimbuusa, 110
Bemba of, 174
bukota and lilwa, 54
bwami, 54
cattle in male, 138
of children, 397
Chokwe of, 171
dances for, 77–78
death and rebirth in, 183–184
dolls and, 96
films on, 129, 132, 133
of girls, 174
libations for, 215
masks/masquerades for, 242, 242–243
Mbudye, 172
of men, 32
nakedness as stage in, 33
poetry for, 491
praises for, 359–360
puppetry for, 376–377
ritual performance with, 397
secrecy in, 408
socialization through, 107
Inkatha Freedom Party, 418
in-laws, 159
Innes, Gordon, 306
inondo genre, 53–54
Institute for the Study of Languages and Cultures of Asia and Africa (ILCAA), 194
Institute of Swahili Research, 105
institutional study, 184–189, 336.
See also dissertations, theses and;
French study;
German study;
Japanese study;
research;
universities
in Egypt, 294
Index
1149
in United States, 184–187, 555–556
instruments, 88, 257, 259.
See also musical instruments;
specific instruments
in African American music, 260–261
classification of, 276–278
for Congolese popular dance music, 273
with dances, 342–343
Dyula, 416
with epics, 113, 114, 115, 117
in Ewe music and dance, 265–266
during festivals, 124
gender and, 516
gourd, 16, 153–156, 154
griots, 15–17, 162–163, 163
for highlife music, 275
in Namibia, 276–280
with oral texts, 55–56
Rwandan, 401
Shona, 433
Songye, 494
of spirit-possession cult, 165
for storytellers, 443, 444
of surrogate languages, 450
in Uganda, 266–267, 267, 345
voice disguiser, 499–500
insults.
See also invectives
jokes and, 196
poetry, 145
and ribald language, 189–190
intermarriages, 26
International Association for the Study of Oral Traditions in Africa (IASOTA), 186–187
International Centre for African Music and Dance (ICAMD), 188
International Monetary Fund (IMF)
affect on Mauritania, 247
cartoons about, 52
Zimbabwe and, 527
International Society for Folk Narrative Research (ISFNR), 106
International Society for Oral Literature in Africa (ISOLA), 187
invectives, 4–5
Iraqw people, 8–9
iron, 254–256
Iron Age states, 33
iron working, 255–256
in Dar Zaghawa, 29–30
films on, 133
supernatural and, 31–32
irony, 135
Irvine, Judith T., 145
ISFNR. See International Society for Folk Narrative Research
Islam.
Index
1150
See also Comoros;
marabouts;
Muslims;
National Islamic Front;
Shaafi-Islam language;
specific countries
affect on architecture, 8
in Algeria, 1, 227, 229
on astrology, 12
Bao and spread of, 18
on blacksmiths, 30
calendar for, 12–13
in Egypt, 109
in Indian Ocean Islands, 181–182
influence on epics, 117
influence on Fulani, 365–366
influence on Swahili culture, 115
influence on textiles, 455
in Maghrib, 231–232
in Mauritania, 247
in Nigeria, 292
spirit possession and, 438–439, 440
Tuareg people and, 371–373
Islamic brotherhoods, 190–192
Islamic medicines, 250–251
Islamic Sharia law, 292
ISOLA. See International Society for Oral Literature in Africa
Itagbe cloth, 454–455
Italy, 121
Eritrea and, 513
Ethiopia and, 120, 162
Libya and, 220
Somalia and, 414
Iteso people, 61–63
ivory, 34, 472
Ivory Coast, 540
Iwuji, H.O.M., 217–218
izbongo (poetry), 362–364, 431
Ja’aliyyin people, 298
Jaara, reign of, 116
Jablow, Alta, 443
Jackson, Bruce, 488
Jackson, Jesse, 489
Jackson, Michael, 145, 148, 306, 337
Jacobs, Karen, 338
Jacottet, Edouard, 443
Jakobson, Roman, 220, 221
Jakuta (god), 326
Jamaica, 386–388
Jankidi, 71
Index
Japanese study, 193–194
jazz music
African American, 260
Congo, 272–273, 274
improvisation in, 458
Jedrej, M. C, 101
Jeffreys, M.D. W., 495
jeli women/families, 515–516
Jell-Bahlsen, Sabine, 129
Jen people, 58, 199
Jensen, Adolf, 147
Jeu de Dames. See draughts
jewelry, 102
as body art, 33, 38, 512
Jewish calendar, 12–13
Jewish folk literature, 5
Jewish music of North Africa, Arab and, 262–264
Jews
of Arabia, 30
of Ethiopia, 194–195
Jie people, 137–138
jillikea (singing men), 15
Jobson, Richard, 15
Joe Fowler (steamboat), 17
Johnson, Bob Ishmael, 69, 275, 463
Johnson, John, 11, 114, 306
study by, 185, 187, 335
Johnson, Prince, 216
Johnson, Samuel, 318
joke(s).
See also amaphoxo
clan, 197, 197–198, 198
humor and, 195–197
riddles, 64
regarding sex, 198
in Sudan, 483–485
joking relationships, 197–199
verbal exchanges with, 46
Jordan, A.C., 422, 426, 475
Jos, Dan Maraya, 71
Jourdain, Robert, 221
journals, 105, 185–188, 336
to locate collections, 218
Joyce, T.A., 494
judges, 331
judicial system
divination and, 92
palaver in, 331–332
Juillerat, Bernard, 130
juju (occult), 507–508
Jules-Rosette, Bennetta, 268
Julien, Eileen, 320
1151
Index
Jung, Carl Gustav, 148
on dreams, 100
Jungraithmayr, Herrmann, 146, 148
Junkanoo festival, 49, 49
Junod, Henri, 41, 305, 356
justice
ancestors as symbols of, 2
films on, 131
in theater, 341
Kabila, Joseph, 70
Kabila, Laurent, 70, 81
Kabre people, 132
kabundi (squirrel/marten), 54
A Kaffir’s Autobiography (Callaway), 41
Kagame, Alexis, 318, 401
Kagwa, Sir Apolo, 318
Kalif, General, 191, 192
Kamba artists, 473–474
Kamiriithu experience, 464
Kandoro, Saadani, 323
Kanga cloth, 512
Kano TV (CTV), 112
Kante, Mory, 126
Kante, Sumanguru, 32
Kanu (Limba God), 442
Kaousan, 372, 373
Kaoze, Stefano, 370
Kapchan, Deborah, 81
Karamojong people, 61–62
Karenga, Maulana, 201–202
karisi genre, 53
Karp, Ivan, 438
kasàlà (panegyrics of clan groups), 54–55
Kaschula, Russell, 187, 423, 430
Kawadwa, Byron, 464
Kayibanda, Gregoire, 400
Kazembe, Mwata, 123–125, 437
Kazuri Beads Company, 24, 25
Keenan, Elinor, 145, 234
Keita, Salif, 126
Keita, Sunjata, 32
Kennedy, John, 525
Kente, Gibson, 333, 463, 465
Kente cloth, 37, 66, 103, 169, 455
Kenya, 201
basketry from, 22
cartoons in, 52
field and broadcast collections from, 540
Gikuyu in, 26–29
medicine:
1152
Index
indigenous therapeutic systems in, 251–254
music in, 258, 258
naming customs in, 288–289
Kenya External Trade Authority (KETA), 474
Kenya Oral Literature Association, 105–106
Kenyatta, Jomo, 84, 201, 288
oratory of, 322–323, 324
Kerebe people, 157–161
Kerkennah Islands, 13–14
Kerma, Ancient, 44
Kesteloot, Lilyan, 114, 141, 306
KETA. See Kenya External Trade Authority
Keyes, Cheryl, 488–489
Khassonke people, 30
Khoisan languages, 206
Khoisan people, 257–258
rock paintings by, 39–40
Khoprer (“the Becoming One”), 44
Kidd, Dudley, 422, 423
Kikongo languages, 264, 348
Kikuyu people, 201
Killingray, David, 84
Kiluwe, Mbidi, 172
Kiluwe, Moidi, 172
Kimambo, Isaria, 318
Kimbaguism, 270
King, Martin Luther, Jr., 202
King, Ronald, 99
kings.
See also smith-kings;
specific individuals
beadwork for, 23–24
color symbolism for, 67–68
in epics, 113–114
metallurgy and, 254–255
queen mothers and, 379–382
kinzonzi (palaver), 331–332
Kipury, Naomi, 306, 367
Kirshenblatt-Gunblett, Barbara, 336
kishambaro genre, 53
kisin (women’s abodes), 10
Kisliuk, Michelle, 337
Kitimule (warrior), 212
Kituba language, 348
Kiuye (sun god), 12
Kivita language, 348
Kiyingi, Wycliffe, 464
Klassen, Doreen, 149
Klipple, May Augusta, 185, 481
Knappert, Jan, 114
Knight, Roderic, 10
knowledge
1153
Index
1154
for Kunda people, 179
as moral principle, 62
secrecy as control of, 407, 408
transfer of, 373
Ko, Oluguere Ko, 93
Kodini, Alphonse, 129
Koelle, Sigismund, 305, 475
Kohl-Larsen, Ludwig, 147
Koita, Ami, 516
Kokosawa. See Gahu music/dance style
Koma people, 58
Komo
as men’s spiritual association, 31–32
as speaking power object, 434–435
komwe (seed from caesalpinia bonduc), 18
Kón, Ño José Akón, 94
Kona Jukun people, 199
Kongo ba Boma people, 58
Kongo people
funerary art by, 43
household divination of, 92–93
oral texts of, 55, 56
palaver of, 331–332
religion of, 458–461, 498
Konrad, Zinta, 306
Koopman, A., 288
Kordofanian languages. See Niger-Kordofanian languages
Koto myths, 282–286
Kountche, Seyni, 291
Kouperman, 99
Kouyaté, Kandia, 516
Kouyaté, Tata Bambo, 516
Kpojito (queen mother), 381
kraal (livestock pen), 9
Krapf, Johann L., 147
Krige, J.D., 507, 508
Krio language, 347
Krobo people, 24
Kröger, Franz, 147
Kronenberg, Andreas, 147
Kronenberg, Waltraud, 147
Kru languages, 205
Ku Klux Klan, 490
kukuru (hairstyle), 44
Kulebele tourist art, 473
Kunama people, 118
Kunda people
children’s folklore of, 63
identity and folklore of, 179
spirit possession of, 437
Kunene, Daniel, 185, 305, 324
on praise poetry, 358, 422
Index
1155
Kuper, Hilda, 381, 425
Kuranko people, 145
Kurc, Stephane, 129
Kuru Art and Cultural Project, 39–40
Kuye, Sakoma, 129
Kwa languages, 205
Kwanzaa, 201–203
KwaZulu
beadwork messages in, 24
government, 35
Labouret, Henri, 196
Labov, William, 489
Lacheraf, Mostefa, 228
LACITO. See Languages and Civilizations with Oral Traditions
ladaw (folklore traditions), 31
Ladipo, Duro, 463, 464–465, 505
Ladzekpo, Alfred, 265
Ladzekpo, E., 287, 288
Ladzekpo, Kobla, 265
Laedza Batananai theater movement, 464, 466
Lagoons region, 33
Lake Chad, 58, 60
Lallemand, Suzanne, 141
Lambrecht, Winifred, 185, 481–482
lamentations, 55
Lamumba, Patrice, 81
Lamy, Benoit, 129
land, ancestors’ link with, 2
Lane, William Henry “Master Juba,” 17
Language, Languages and Cultures of Black Africa (LLACAN), 140
languages, 106, 205–206.
See also linguistics, verbal arts and;
speech;
translation;
specific countries;
specific languages
Africanisms in Americas, 207–210
Bantustan concept and, 466
children’s lessons on morals and, 64
during divination, 92–93
electronic media and, 109–110, 112
ideophones and, 180
ribald, insults and, 189–190
sign, 411
southern African, 420–421
spatial coordinate systems in, 44
studies of, 304–305
surrogate, 450–451
tongue twisters and, 469–470
in Uganda, 344
Index
1156
unification through, 107
Languages and Civilizations with Oral Traditions (LACITO), 140
Lanrezac, Lieutenant, 136
Lasebikan, E.L., 305
Latour, Eliane de, 132
laughter
jokes and, 195–196
in sahir, 403–404
Laura Boulton Collection, 11
laws
chiefs and rule of, 60–61
dilemma tales’ relationship to, 91
Islamic Sharia, 292
for women, 513
le fleur de balance (belt of Orion), 13–14
Le Moal, Guy, 129
leadership, emblems of, 34
League of Nations, 401
leatherworking, 59
Lebeuf, Annie M.D., 379
Lee, Du-Hyun, 336
Lee, S.G., 100
Lega people, 53–56
legends
of Abaluhyia people, 210–213
dilemma tales v., 90
in drama, 97–98
of East Africa, 210–213
in epics, 113, 115, 116
of King Solomon/Queen of Sheba, 194
myths v., 280
pirate, 181
political, 211–212
urban, 489–490
Leger, Rudolf, 148
Leinhardt, Godfrey, 121
Leiris, Michel, 66, 130, 139
Lekgothoane, S.K., 425
leopard, 62, 477
dance with, 79
symbolism of, 458, 459
Leopard Society, 299
Leopold, King, 81
Lesotho, 213
Lestrade, G.P., 304, 324, 430
Levine, Barbara, 122
Levine, Robert, 122
Levinson, Stephen, 44
Lévi-Strauss, Claude, 148, 359
Lewis, G.Malcolm, 43
Lianja epic, 53, 113, 281
libation, 213–216.
Index
1157
See also alcohol;
beer;
palm wine
Liberia, 216–217
field and broadcast collections from, 540
pidgin/creole in, 347–348
Liberia Collections Project, 10
libraries, 217–219.
See also African Studies Centers and Libraries in the United States and Africa;
Oxford Library of African Literature
Libya, 219–220
field and broadcast collections from, 540
Maghrib and, 224
Lienhardt, Godfrey, 325
with Oxford Library of African Literature, 328
Lifchitz, Deborah, 139, 305
life cycle events, 399, 417
Ligeti, Gyorgy, 350
Limba people, 90, 144
Limon, I.E., 335
lineages.
See also genealogies;
matrilineage;
patrilineage
healing/curing vocation through, 253
Kunda, 179
Lugbara, 290
witches/sorcerers through, 252
Lingala language, 348
Lingala music, 272, 274
linguistics, verbal arts and, 220–221
Liongo epics, 113, 114–115
lions
dance with, 79
Domajiri as inventor of, 32
Engatuny, 62
in folktales, 286
Kunda spirit, 437
proverbs/praises regarding, 4
tricksters v., 476, 477
Lippert, Julius, 147
Lisbon Geographical Society, 354–356
literacy, 84, 217.
See also specific countries
beadwork and, 24
in Eritrea, 513, 513
oral traditions v., 316
orality and, 320
Swahili folklore and, 115
literature.
See also books;
handbooks;
Index
1158
oral literature
Arabic/Jewish folk, 5–7
Maghrib’s anthropological, 228–229
Onitsha market, 80, 352, 505
oral performance and, 314–315
Littmann, Enno, 147
livestock.
See also cattle;
cows
architecture for, 8–9
medicine for humans and, 249–250
Liyong, Taban lo, 105
LLACAN. See Language, Languages and Cultures of Black Africa
Llewelijn-Davies, Melissa, 128, 131, 132
Lloyd, Lucy, 424
LMS. See London Missionary Society
Locke, David, 265, 337
Loiseleur-Deslongchamp, A., 295
Lola, Mama, 499
Lomax, Alan, 17, 128
Lomax, John, 17
Lombard, Jacques, 130, 133
London Missionary Society (LMS), 232–233
Longuda people, 58
Lord, Albert, 306, 314.
See also Parry-Lord school
Loucou, Jean-Noel, 119
loueds (channels on sea floor), 13
love letters (beadwork messages), 24, 35, 512
love messages, 373
love poems, 225
Lovedu people, 507
Lowe, “Uncle” Jim, 17
Luba people
dilemma tale from, 90
history and folklore of, 171–173
ivory use by, 34
oral texts of, 53–55
Lucumi religion, 405–406
Lucy, John, 44
Ludonga, King, I., 425
Lufulakari, 237
Lugbara people, 289–291
Luhyia people, 251–254.
See also Abaluhyia people
Lukas, Johannes, 147, 304
lullabies, 55
Ndebele, 63–64
lunar calendars, 12–13
Lunda people
ceramics of, 58
Chokwe and, 170
Index
1159
Mutomboko festival of, 123–125
Luo people
gestures of, 150
medicine for, 251–254
naming customs for, 289
Lusotropicalism, 356
Lutaba, Paul Kanyembo, 123
lutes, 15, 279–280
Luvale people, 22
Luz, D., 129, 131
Lwena people, 58
Lydall, Jean, 128, 132
Maal, Baaba, 409
Maasai people
cattle raids by, 8–9, 61–62, 167
hairstyles of, 38, 39
prose narratives of, 367–369
MacDougall, David, 126, 127–128
MacDougall, Judith, 128
Macondo artists, 474
Macumba religion, 391, 393
Madagascar, 223
gender in speech of, 145
as Indian Ocean Island, 181, 182
Malagasy folklore of, 232–235
myths and society in, 282–286
Madan, A. C, 304
Madubuike, I., 287
Maelo Wa Khaindi, 212
Mafeje, Archie, 426
Maghrib
Algeria in, 227–230
Berbers in, 228–230, 230–232
education in, 226, 230
Morocco in, 256
northwestern North African folklore of, 223–227
magic, 166, 167
with Vodou, 497–499
witchcraft, sorcery and, 506–510
Magyar, Lazzlo, 186
Mahereo, Samuel, 397
Mahjoub, Blind, 443
Majozo, Estella Conwill, 45
Makeba, Miriam, 38
Makhabane, Lejaha, 425
Makonde people
art of, 355, 356
myths of origin and sculpture, 286
Makward, Edris, 307
Malagasy, 232–235
Index
1160
oratory in, 322
Malagasy Tale Index (Haring), 481, 482
malaria, 89
Malawi, 110, 235–236, 527
field and broadcast collections from, 540
Mali, 236
field and broadcast collections from, 541
women pop singers and broadcast media in, 515–517
Malikopo (radio drama), 385
Malinke people, 116.
See also Maninka people
Malinowski, 120, 281
Malkki, Liisa, 347
Maloney, Clarence, 121
‘Mamangana (storyteller), 443
Mamdani, Mahmood, 381
Mami Wata (water spirit), 351
in Central Africa, 236–238
films with, 126
in masquerade, 245, 377
mamy wagons, 80, 351
manaw (narrative stories), 31
Mancala, 99, 238–240
Bao v., 18–19
Wari as, 501–502
Mande languages, 136, 205
Mande people
as blacksmiths, 30–32, 59
epics and, 116
films on, 128
spiritual associations of, 32
Mandela, Nelson
apartheid and, 362, 418
beadwork on, 35
praise poetry for, 362–364, 431
Manetho the priest, 317–318
Mangala language, 348
Mangbetu people
ceramics of, 58
conical heads/hairstyles of, 38
houses of, 56
manilla (unit of brass), 34
Maninka people, 30, 59
Manisi, D.P.Yali, 426
Manoukin, Madeline, 265
Mapfumo, Thomas, 433
maqalat, 240–241
marabouts (Islamic scholars), 372, 373
Maragoli people, 288
March Westwards epic, 412–414
märchen (fairy tales), 295, 480
Marco Polo, 14
Index
marijuana, 387
markings, 102.
See also scarifications
Marley, Bob, 38
marombe (praise singer), 322
Maroon people, 46, 168–169
Marre, Jeremy, 126
marriages.
See also brideprice;
bridewealth;
intermarriages;
polygamy
affect on architecture, 7, 9
beadwork and, 24
celebration for, 26
in Comoros, 181
endogamous, 59
films on, 132
nsibidi for, 300
palaver with, 331
poetry about, 86
queen mothers and, 380
ritual figures and, 96
songs for, 55, 416
verbal dueling for, 514
Marshall, John
films by, 128–130, 132
on San, 424
Marshall, Lorna, 424
marten, 54
Marxism, 156, 164, 356
Marxist-Leninism, 407
mas dance, 49
Masinde, Elijah, 212
masked dances, 77, 242, 242–244
oral texts and, 55–56
in popular theater, 462
mask(s)
basketry, 20
Baule, 119
as body art, 33, 34
costumes and, 97, 119
dances and, 77
festivals, 31
films on, 129
God and, 129
Ijo, 502–503, 503
for initiations, 242, 242–243
and invectives in Gelede society, 4
kanaga, 43
kifwebe, 494, 494–495
Komo, 32, 435
1161
Index
and masquerades, 241–244, 332
songs, 416–417
and statues as tourist art, 472–473
on television, 111–112
Masonic symbols, 459
Maspero, Sir Gaston, 294, 295
masquerades, 399
Agot, 244–246, 245
audience response to, 83
blacksmiths in songs at, 31
body coverings for, 33
during carnivals, 48
dress for, 102, 103
by Ejagham women, 244–246
Ekpa, 244–246, 245
masks and, 241–244, 332
Oki, 503, 503
as part of funerals, 75, 243–244
puppet, 376–377, 377
in secret cults, 462
silence in, 411
Songye, 494–495
speechifying robber talk and, 46
master-slave tales, 487–488
matatu (minibuses), 347
Mateene, Kahombo, 187, 444
Materego, Gonche, 467
material art forms, 63, 65
Matoub, Lounes, 225
matrilineage
color symbolism for, 67–68
patrilineage v., 63, 197, 379, 380
matrimonial songs, 55
Mauritania, 224, 246–247
Mauritius, 181–182, 247
Mauss, Marcel, 126, 161
Max Planck Institute for Psycholinguistics, 44
maxims, as genre, 54
Maxwell, T.D., 299
Mbari-Mbayo cultural center, 464–465
Mbaye, Saliou, 219
Mbiti, John, 444, 507
Mbole people, 53–54
Mbowa, Rose, 467
Mbuli, Mzwakhe, 430
Mbuti people, 175–176, 500
M.C. (hip-hop musician), 265
McCall, Daniel F., 318
McEwen, Frank, 472, 474
McIntosh, Roderick, 31
McIntosh, Susan, 31
Mda, Zakes, 333
1162
Index
1163
Mdluli, Labotsibeni, 381
MDRM. See Democratic Movement for Malagasy Renovation
meaning, sound with, 180
Mecca, pilgrimages to, 33, 247
media, 217.
See also electronic media;
journals;
newspapers;
radios;
television
affect on folklore, 105–106
influence of, 102, 350, 485
performance’s use of, 333
popular theater and, 464
women pop singers and broadcast, 515–517
medicines, 247–250.
See also doctors;
illness
ancestors in relation to, 247–249, 253–254
blacksmiths’, 255–256
in Brazil, 88
curative, 249
divination’s relationship to, 92, 93
films on, 130
Hausa, 250–251
herbs in, 248–254
humans and, 247–250
incisions in, 253
indigenous therapeutic systems in western Kenya, 251–254
Islamic, 250–251
magic/sorcery as, 508
minkisi, 460, 498
protective, 249
worldview and, 247–249
Meinhof, Carl, 147, 148
membranophones, 277
in Ugandan music and dance, 266–267, 345
memory boards, 172
memory keepers, 15
men.
See also Blue Men;
boys;
brothers;
husbands;
jillikea;
Komo;
old man and old woman
basketry by, 21
beadwork for, 35
color symbolism for, 67
homosexual, 94
masquerades satirizing, 246
Index
as potters, 59
as sculptors, 57
and women, dreams of, 100
and women, in drama, 97–98
and women in Eritrea, 513–514
Mende people, 369–370
Mendelssohn (composer), 421
Mendosa, Eugene L., 91
Mensah, E.T., 152, 352
mensonges d’un soir (falsehoods of an evening), 75
mental maps, 43
Mereghetti, Elisa, 131
Merina people, 233–235
Merriam, Alan, 10, 169
on music, 257, 494
messages.
See also love letters
in beadwork, 24, 35
decorated vehicles’ religious, 80
love, 373
Messenger, John C., 169
mestico (Portuguese/African heritage), 3
metal workers, 255–256, 493.
See also blacksmiths;
iron working
metallurgy, 254–256.
See also specific metals
metaphors, 135, 445–446
in oral traditions, 418–420
in praise poetry, 361
in proverbs, 374
for queen mothers, 381
in riddles, 395–396
in sahir, 403–404
Meyer, Gérard, 136
Michael, Archangel, 44–45
Michel-Andrianarahinjaka, Lucien X., 234
Middle East, 43
Middleton, John, 91
midwives, 26–27
migration.
See also immigration
Berber, 231
legends about, 211
militaristic mimes, 463, 465
military
blacksmiths as heroes in, 32
cartoons about, 51–52
chiefs and, 60–61
dances, 78
use of tongue twisters, 470
Milky Way
1164
Index
cardinal directions and, 43
names for, 11
mimes
dance, 465
militaristic, 463, 465
Minh-Ha, Trinh T., 133
minkisi medicines, 460, 498
minstrels, 17
at concert parties, 69–70
Minton, John, 487
Miriam, Megistu Haile, 120
Mischlich, Adam, 147
Mishago, Tilahun, 147
missionaries, 105, 304
administrators and, 138–139, 231, 356, 504
Bemba people and, 173
education through, 107
on gender, 144
German, 147
in Indian Ocean Islands, 182
influence on Malagasy folklore, 232–233
influence on music, 269–270
Mkiva, Zolani, 363
Mlama, Penina Muhando, 467
Mnyampala, Mathias, 105
Moba people, 59, 147
Mobutu, Joseph Desire, 81, 238
on atalaku music, 264–265
Mobutu Sese Seko, 157, 288
Mofokeng, S.M., 305
Mogae, Festus, 39
Mohammed, Prophet, 30
Mohammed V., 256
Möhlig, Wilhelm, 146, 148
Moi, Daniel T. Arap, 201
Mojo, 460
Molema, S.S., 288
Molina, Ramon Febles, 94
Moloto, Ernest Sedumeli, 425–426
Mongo people, 53–55
monographs, 139, 146, 187, 188
monoliths, 299
monsters, 167
Monteil, Charles, 136
moon
lunar calendar and, 12–13
superstitions about, 448
Moore, Brian, 436
Moors, 341
morality
children’s folklore and, 62–64
in concert parties, 69–70
1165
Index
1166
in electronic media, 110, 112
in folktales, 134
personhood and, 73
plays, 110, 265
tricksters and, 168
Morocco, 256
corn market/auction in, 224, 224
field and broadcast collections from, 541
in Maghrib, 224, 227
old man and old woman in, 302–303
Western Sahara and, 506
mortuary songs, 55
Mosetse, Moshe, 443
Moshoeshoe, King, I., 213, 375, 425
Mosotho. See Basotho people
mosques
architecture of, 7
religious epics in, 117
motherhood, 380, 382
Motif Index of the Folktales of West Africa (Clark), 185
Motif-Index of Folk Literature (Thompson), 148, 294, 295–296, 480
motifs, 479–482
Mouridism, 127, 190–192
Moutassamy-Ashe, Jean, 89
mouth. See sahir
Moyo, S., 358, 422
Mozambique, 257, 541
Mqhayi, Samuel, 426
Mtenje, Alfred, 358, 422
Mterego, Gonche, 467
mubikiriro genre, 53, 55
mud-cloth, 103, 455
Mudimbe, V.Y., 172
Mugabe, Robert, 52
Muhammad, Prophet, 115.
See also Mohammed, Prophet
maqalat and, 240
Mulekelela (storyteller), 443–444
Mules and Men (Hurston), 334, 338
Mumford, W.B., 107
Mumia, Nabongo, 212
mummers, 97–98
mummies, red, 458, 460
Mumuye people, 199
Mungiki religious group, 29
murals, 496
murders, of witches, 510
Mursi people, 13
Musa, Mansa, 33
museums
Ethnological, 353–354
films and, 126, 129
Index
1167
Mancala in, 238
National, 156
Museveni, Yoweri, 483
mushenjo genre, 53
mushumo genre, 53–54
music, 257–260.
See also instruments;
orchestras;
polyrhythms;
rhythms;
See also specific music;
songs;
vocal music
African American, 260–261
Arab and Jewish music of North Africa, 262–264
atalaku, 264–265
basketry and, 20
during carnivals, 49–50
churches’ influence on, 268–272
dance and, 77
and dance in Uganda, 266–268, 267
emotions in, 260
with epics, 115
Ewe dance and, 265–266
films and, 128–129, 132
griots and, 162–163
Khoisan, 257–258
in Maghrib, 230
with masquerades, 243
with oral texts, 55–56
popular, 352
popular dance, 272–274, 521
Shona, 433
in United States, 260–262
West African, 505
musical instruments, 276–280
musicians, 258, 258–259.
See also specific individuals
African American, 260–261
atalaku, 264–265
in churches, 268, 269
Congolese popular dance, 272–274, 273
highlife, 275, 275–276
Nigerian, 292
Rastafari, 388
soukous, 81, 274–275
Muslims.
See also specific countries
Christians, and Jews in Ethiopia, 194–195
healing and, 11–12, 507
in Maghrib, 229–230
Mutomboko festival, 123–125
Index
Mutsiya wa Munge, 473
Mutwa, Credo V., 333
mvett epic, 113
Mwamba, Nkongolo, 172
Mwangi, Rose, 305
Mweze, Ngangura, 126
Mwindo epic, 53, 113
Myerhoff, Barbara, 336
mystic orders, 262–263
myths, 148, 280–282
about cattle, 297, 402
about disease/illness, 251–254
about pluriarc, 279
alcohol in, 283–284
bird hunter, 282–285
cardinal directions in, 284–285
charter, 280–281
colors in, 283–285
cosmogonic, 4
dilemma tale v., 90
Dogon, 4, 127
in epics, 113, 116
on film, 127–128
food in rituals and, 282–285
Koto, 282–286
northeastern African, 297–298
on radio, 110
and society in Madagascar, 282–286
South African, 419
myths of origin, 170, 173, 251.
See also creation myths
Makonde sculpture and, 286
Mande hunters’, 281
metallurgy and, 254–255
Tuareg, 371
Mzilikazi, King, 425–426
Nachtigal, Gustav, 147
Nagant, Genevieve, 370
nakedness
as body art, 33
sex and, 245
Nama people, 79
names, 508.
See also celestial names;
nicknames;
praise names
ceremony for, 85, 162
drum, 54
for instruments, 278
for masks, 241
1168
Index
1169
for Supreme Being, 72
Namibia, 287
dance in, 77–80
instruments in, 276–280
naming customs, 287–289
for East Africa, 288–289
narrations, Lugbara verbal discourse and, 289–291
Narrative of the Life of an American Slave (Douglass), 16
narratives.
See also oral narrative;
personal experience narratives;
prose narratives
call-and-response in, 81–84
Egyptian, 295
etiological, 280, 281–282
folk, 225
tales of southern Africa, 427–428
Nasr, Ahmed Abdal Rahim, 187, 443
Nasser, Gamal Abdel, 109
National Islamic Front, 446
National Museum, 156
National Party, 418, 430
National Science Foundation, 14
nationalism, 351
after World War II, 468
chiefs and, 61
in Egypt, 293–294
in Madagascar, 233–234
Romantic, 107
typology and, 480
Native Americans, 441
basketry of, 22
relationship with African Americans, 49
nature.
See also environment
in cosmology, 72–73
diseases/illness caused by, 253
spirits and, 174, 242
navigation
bathymetric, 13
celestial, 13–14
using cardinal directions, 43
Nc’wala ceremonies, 399
Ndadye, Melchior, 40
Ndawo, H.M., 426
Ndebele people
beadwork of, 24, 34–35
children’s folklore of, 63–66
oral traditions of, 427
praise poetry of, 357–358
N’Dembélé, Urbain, 133
N’Diaye, Bokar, 136
Index
N’diaye, Felix Samba, 127
N’Dour, Youssou, 162, 409
Nebbi Community Adungu Group, 267, 267
Neethling, S.J., 430
Negritude, 351, 409
Nembe people, 319
Nerikoro, 32
net hunting, 175–177; 175, 176
New York City African Burial Ground, 45
newspapers, 50–52
The New Ring Shout (Conwill/DePace/Majozo), 45
N’Fajigi, 32
nganuriro genre (true stories), 53, 55
Nganyi, Chief, 212
Ngas people, 13
Ngbaka people, 53
Ngbandi people, 53
Ngessou, Sassou, 238
ngoma (ancestral spirits), 278
birth/death rituals and, 27, 28
Ngoma-lungundu epic, 427
Ngoni people, 357–358
NGOs. See nongovernmental organizations
Nguema, Macias, 118
Nguzo Saba (principles of Kwanzaa), 202
Ng’wanamalundi, 167
Niane, D.T., 113, 318
Nichols, George, 16
nicknames, 65
Niger, 291, 541
Niger Delta, Ijo water ethos of, 502–504
Niger-Congo linguistic group, 205, 207
ethnic/cultural groups in, 11, 12, 13
Nigeria, 291–292
cartoons in, 52
decorated vehicles in, 80
field and broadcast collections from, 541–542
pidgin/creole in, 348
verbal arts of Ibibio in, 490–493
Niger-Kordofanian languages, 205
Nights with Uncle Remus (Harris), 487
Nile Valley, 292–293
Nilo-Saharan languages, 206
Nilotic languages, 206
Nilotic people, 324–328
Njinga, Queen, 379
Nkabinde, Temba, 358, 422
Nketia, J.H.Kwabena, 187, 188, 220
on music, 259, 276
research by, 304
Nkongolo, 172
Nkrumah, Kwame, 84, 102, 152, 188
1170
Index
1171
name significance for, 288
on okyeame, 301
political oratory and, 323
Nkwi, Paul, 380
No Longer at Ease (Achebe), 327
Nok people, 23, 58
nomads, 7–8.
See also Berbers;
Fulani people;
tents
Nommo (proto-human beings), 4, 255, 517
nongovernmental organizations (NGOs), 464, 466
Noro, Susumo, 129
North Africa, 292–296
Arabic folk literature of, 5–7
epics of, 412–414
music of, 257, 262–264
northwestern, 223–227
old man in, 302–303
North America
banjo in, 16–17
cardinal directions in, 43
North Arabian Desert, 293
northeastern African folklore (The Horn), 296–298
northeastern Oasis, 293
Northern Rhodesia, 525, 527.
See also Zambia
Notes on America (Dickens), 17
Nsembe, 237
nsibidi writing system, 299–300, 458–459
Nsukka artists, 496
Ntim society, 299
Ntomo (men’s initiation ceremony), 32
ntuwma (red clay), 67
Nubian cultures, 44
Nuer people, 325
blue heron of, 297
chiefs of, 61
proverbs/praises of, 4
Nupe language, 205
nursery rhymes, 415, 417
games and, 64
Nursery Tales, Traditions, and Histories of the Zulus (Callaway), 41, 304
Nuwas, Abu, 486
Nya Gwan (women’s spiritual association), 31–32
Nyakatura, John William, 318
nyama (supernatural energy), 31–32
Nyamĩndigi (bird messenger), 28
Nyanga people, 53–55
Nyasaland, 110, 235, 527.
See also Malawi
field and broadcast collections from, 542
Index
Nyerere, Julius, 19, 84, 158, 453
Nzakara people, of Central Africa, 53
Nzondo, Mami Wata as, 237
oath-taking systems, 55
Obasanjo, Olusegun, 292
Obeng, Samuel, 323, 324
Obeyesekere, Ranjini, 336
occupations, 511
Ochun (orisha), 406
Oduduwa (orisha), 405–406
Odwira ceremonies, 67
Odyssey (Homer), 297
offerings, 2
Ogot, Bethwell A., 318
Ogotemmeli (Dogon sage), 4
ogres, 182, 184
Dodo, 220–221
Ogun (god), 80, 126, 326, 392, 406
Ogunde, Hubert, 463, 468
Ogungbe, Akin, 468
Ogunmola, Ola, 463, 468
Okafor, Clement, 306
Oki masquerades, 503, 503
Okigbo, Christopher, 464
Oko (orisha), 406
Okonjo, Kamene, 381
Okpewho, Isidore, 187, 306
on call-and-response, 82, 83
on epics, 114, 320
on verbal arts, 220
Okworri, Jenkeri, 467
okyeame (chief’s speech intermediary), 301–302
political oratory and, 322, 324
Olaatunde, Asiru, 465
Olaiya, Moses, 468–469
Olantunji, Babatunde, 130
Olatunji, Olatunde, 306
old man and old woman, 302–303
“Old Sayialel and Eagle” (Maasai narrative), 368
Old Testament, 194, 314
Olodumare (orisha), 325–326, 405, 468
Olofin (orisha), 405
Olofson, Harold, 151
Ologbojo, Ologin, 467
Olokun (god), 34, 58, 329, 406
Olorun (orisha), 405
Omar, El Hadj, 117
Omar, Yaha Ali, 149, 151
omens, 447–449
Omotic languages, 205
1172
Index
1173
Ong, Walter J., 315, 319
Onile (goddess), 454–455
Onitsha market literature, 80, 352, 505
onomatopoeia, 46
opera, 463–464, 466.
See also soap operas
Opland, Jeff, 306, 357, 422
Opooi (Hare figure), 62
oracles, 252
oral historiography, 317–319
oral history
oral traditions, and Zambia, 319–320
southern African, 427
oral literary research, 303–310
oral literature
definition and terminology of, 310–313, 430
of São Tomé and Príncipe, 340
Shona, 432
women’s study of, 307
Oral Literature in Africa (Finnegan), 81, 186, 305–306
oral narrative, 313–314
oral performance
dynamics, 315–316
and literature, 314–315
oral text, in Central Africa, 53–56
oral traditions, 316–317
electronic media and, 109–113
libraries and, 217–218
oral historiography and, 317–319
oral history and Zambia, 319–320
in South Africa, 418–420
southern African, 424–429
orality, 320
orators, 301–302
oratory, 321–322
political, 322–324
orature, 63, 315
secrecy in, 407–409
in southern Africa, 421
orchestras, 273, 350, 352
Organization of African Unity, 109, 120
Orientalists, 228–229
origins. See myths of origin
origins, of Nilotic people, 324–328
“The Origin of Cattle” (Maasai narrative), 367
oríkì praise poetry, 364–365
Orion’s Belt, 13–14, 43
orishas, 325–326, 391.
See also specific orishas
cabinet for, 406, 406
carnival costumes for, 50
folktales about, 46
Index
1174
Yoruba, 72, 325–326, 405–406
orixás (deities), 392–393
Oromo people, 120
Orpen, J.M., 424
orphan motif, 326–327.
See also adoption
Orula (Ifá interpreter), 93–94
Orunmila (god), 325, 329, 393, 405
Orwell, George, 3
Osanyin (god of herbalism), 376
Oschoffa, Samuel, 44
Oshosi (orisha), 406
Oshugbo society, 454–455
Oshun/Osun river goddess, 326, 511
Osofisan, Femi, 333
Otjiserandu Commemorations, 397, 398, 399
Ottenberg, Simon, 441, 442
Ottino, Paul, 182, 234, 285
Ottoman Empire, 11, 109, 224
Otura Dí, 94
Ouologuem, Yambo, 315
Ousseini, Inoussa, 127, 128
“outwitting,” as moral principle, 62
Owela (mancala game), 239, 239
Oxford Library of African Literature, 121, 327–328
Oya-Yansan (orisha), 406
Oyelana, Muri, 465
Oyo Tunji, 328–330
Ozidi epic, 113
pacquets kongo (charms), 460
PADESM. See Party of the Disinherited Madagascar
Paine, Robert, 324
painters, 126
paintings, 351.
See also body painting;
rock paintings
for concert parties, 69, 69–70, 70
glass, 413, 413
ground, 458, 459
Igbo uli, 495–496
sign, 80, 351
on vehicles, 351
wall, 495–496, 511
palaces, 7, 9
palaver, 331–332
palm wine, 155
as libation, 214
during storytelling, 441
panegyrics, 54–55, 172, 322, 419–420
Paredes, Americo, 334
Index
1175
Park, Mungo, 15
parrot, 321
Parry, Milman, 306, 314
Parry-Lord school, 114
Party of the Disinherited Madagascar (PADESM), 234
paseo (carnival group), 49–50
Patasse, Ange-Felix, 57
patrilineage
deities and, 72
in drama, 97
matrilineage v., 63, 197, 379, 380
Paul et Virginie (St. Pierre), 182
Paulhan, Jean, 182
Paulme, Denise, 139, 140, 196, 480–482
PCT. See Congolese Workers Party
Peacock, James, 336
Pedi people, 102
Pedler, F.J., 196
Peek, Phil, 11
Peirce, Charles Saunders, 44
Pekane people, 117
Pelton, Robert, 477
Pende people, 55, 56
performance groups, touring, 471
performances, 311–313, 332–334.
See also oral performance;
ritual performance
analysis, 399–400
dialogic, 81–84
of epics, 315–316
of folktales, 135, 136
Komo, 435
of sahir, 403–404
storytelling as, 442
studies and research, 334–339
styles, 372–373
and typology, in study of prose narratives, 479–482
performing arts
of São Tomé and Príncipe, 339–343
Songye visual and, 493–495
Tiv, 343–344
of Uganda, 344–346
Peristiany, J.G., 122
Perry, Sandra, 216
personal experience narratives, 346–347
personhood, 73
personification, 135
Pettway, Plummer T., 458
Phoenicians
in Carthage, 11
navigation by, 14
photography, 351, 352–353
Index
picong (coded remark said in jest), 46
pictograms, 458
pidgin language, 69, 168, 180
creole and, 347–349, 410
Pierrot (carnival character), 46, 49
pilgrimages, 33, 247.
See also Sigd (pilgrimage holiday)
pirate legends, 181
Piy, King, 44
Plaatjie, Solomon, 318
Plangger, A.B., 432
Plastow, Jane, 462
Platiel, Suzy, 140, 141
plays
concert parties and, 69–70
Ladipo’s, 464–465
morality, 110, 265
playwrights, 464
playwriting, 332–333
Pleiades (celestial body), 11
pluriarc, 279
poetic devices
of proverbs, 375
of riddles, 396
poetry, 308, 315.
See also izbongo;
love poems;
praise poetry
about marriages, 86
folk, 225
Fulani prose and, 365–367
heroic, 419–420, 424–426
Ibibio songs and, 491
Ijala, 316
insult, 145
of North Africa, 5–6
political oratory and, 323
southern African, 424–427, 431
tone, 172
poets, 71, 362, 363, 407
southern African, 424–428
Pokou, Aura, 119
Polaris, 13–14
Polisaro people, 506
political cartoons, 50–52
political legends, 211–212
political oratory, 322–324
politics.
See also duel-gender political system
allegory and, 3
of concert parties, 69
of proverbs, 4
1176
Index
1177
ritual performance in, 397–398
touring performance groups and, 471
in U.K., 84
Polk, Patrick, 436
polygamy
affect on architecture, 7, 9
in Madagascar, 233
polyrhythms, 349–350
Pongweni, Alec, 358, 423
Pooe, Modingwane a Mokgoywe a, 425
pop singers, women, 515–517
popular culture, 313, 350–353
churches’ relationship with, 270
of Cote d’Ivoire, 75
Shona, 433
popular dance music, 272–274, 521
popular music, 352
Popular Tales of Ancient Egypt (Maspero), 294
popular theater, 352, 462–464
in southern Africa, 465–466
poro (political institution), 75
Portugal, 353–357
Cape Verde and, 42
Mauritius Island and, 247
Morocco and, 256
Mozambique and, 257
São Tomé, Príncipe and, 165–166, 339–341, 393, 407
Tanzania and, 453
Togo and, 469
Zanzibar and, 485
Portuguese language, 87
Posey, Pearl, 458, 460
potters
blacksmiths’ relationship with, 59
females as, 29, 30–31
pottery, 57–58.
See also terra-cottas
Pour le plaisir des yeux (Genini), 512
Povey, John, 473
powers.
See also speaking and nonspeaking power objects, of Senufo
at festivals, 124
folk medicine and, 247–250
silence as, 411
Prahlad, Anand, 489
praise names, 518
for chiefs, 160
praise poetry, 172, 317
Basotho, 360–361
gender and, 144
for Mandela, 362–364, 431
Shona, 432
Index
1178
of southern Africa, 422–423
Southern African, 357–360
in spirit possession, 440
Xhosa, 361–364
Yoruba oríkì, 364–365
praise singers, 15
praise songs
for cattle, 79
for chiefs, 437
for heroes and blacksmiths, 31–32
by jeli women, 516
praises.
See also mushenjo genre;
panegyrics
animals in proverbs and, 4
clan, 114, 358–359
prayers
libations with, 2, 213–216
weavers’, 415
preaching, 489
Presbyterian Press, 50
Price, Richard, 307
Price, Sally, 307
priests, 317–318
babalawos, 93–94, 405
blacksmiths as, 31
Prietze, Rudolf, 147, 148, 304
Príncipe. See São Tomé, Príncipe and procreation, 382
ancestors and, 1–2
bonds from, 170
professions.
See also businesses;
occupations;
vocation, through lineages
epics about, 365
films on, 133
legends about, 212–213
prophets, 30, 115, 240, 290
Propp, Vladimir, 140, 480, 482
prose, Fulani poetry and, 365–367
prose narratives
Ibibio, 491–492
Maasai, 367–369
Mende, 369–370
Sukuma heroes in, 167
Tabwa, 370–371
Tuareg, 371–373
typology and performance in study of, 479–482
prostitutes, 24
proverb cord, 374
proverbs, 374–375
Achebe on, 375
Index
African American, 489
animals in praises and, 4
Basotho, 375–376
Baule, 119
body arts triggering, 172
in Caribbean, 46–47
cloth as, 455–456
in cosmology, 72–73
as genre, 6, 54
Hausa, 221
Herskovits on, 168
Ibibio, 492–493
ideophones in, 180
jokes and, 196
Luba, 172
Rwandan, 402
as sayings, 374
Sesotho, 375–376
South African, 419
puberty
beadwork and, 24, 34–35
dolls and, 96
dress and, 102
rites, 514
schools, 511, 512
public debates, 322–323
public speaking. See oratory
puns, 374
cartoonist’s use of, 51
in drama, 98
puppetry, 376–378
puppets, 343–344
purification
during birth/death rituals, 27–29
rituals for women, 194
puzzle riddles, 64
Pygmy groups
oral texts of, 53
polyrhythms of, 349
Qabula, Alfred, 431
Qadhafi, Muammar, 219–220
qasida genre, 262
Quaranic healers, 250–251
Quartey-Papafio, A.B., 288
queen mothers, 379–383
Ananse and, 145
Ashanti, 169
kings and, 379–382
stools of, 68
women as, 60
1179
Index
1180
queens. See specific individuals
Quersin, Benoit, 127
quilts, 456–461, 523
Quran, 373
Bible v., 455
Quranic schools, 107
Rabbit
Br’er, 209
as trickster, 46
Rabearivelo, Jean-Joseph, 223, 234
racism, 282, 465
Radcliffe-Brown, A.R., 196, 197, 199
Radin, Paul, 41
radio and television drama, 385–386, 464
radio(s), 109–112, 111, 505
pavement, 153
surrogate languages v., 450, 451
raffia cloth, 457, 459, 493
ragtime, 69
rain charms, 507
rain forests
architecture in, 7, 9–10
in Cameroon, 42
rainmakers, 448
rainmaking, 212–213, 290
films on, 130
Ramaka, Gai, 132
rap artists, 71
rap music, 265, 274, 488–489
Raphael (angel), 45
Rapp, Eugen Ludwig, 147
Al-Rashid, Haroun, 115
Rasmussen, Susan, 91, 152
on spirit possession, 438–439
Rassner, Ronald, 306
Rastafari movement, 120, 386–388
Rattray, Robert Sutherland, 144, 304, 388–389, 504
Ravenhill, Philip, 119
Read, Margaret, 443
rebirth, 183–184.
See also reincarnation
recordings, 105–106, 107.
See also Field and Broadcast Sound Recording Collections at ATm
collections of, 217, 219
industry, 352
red mummies, 458, 460
refugees
in DRC, 81
in U.K., 85
in U.S., 86
Index
1181
reggae music, 352, 388
La Regla de Ocha religion, 405–406
Reich, Steve, 350
reincarnation, 2
Reindorf, Christian, 318
Reinel, Pedro, 43
relationships. See joking relationships
religions, 389–391.
See also churches;
missionaries;
preaching;
priests;
sermons;
worship;
specific countries;
specific religions
affect on architecture, 7
Afro-Brazilian, 391–393
ancestors and, 2
and Arab/Jewish music, 262
in Brazil, 87
cardinal directions in, 44–45
concert parties and, 69–70
films on, 127
gourds in, 155
government’s affect on, 156–157
of Kongo people, 458–461, 498
in messages on decorated vehicles, 80
monotheistic, 296
myths and, 280, 282
in naming customs, 287
spirit possession and, 440–441
superstitions and, 447
in textiles/quilts/charms, 458–459
of women, 511
in Zanzibar, 485
religious ceremonies and festivals, 393–395
religious epics, 117
religious music, 273
religious rituals, Bemba history and, 173–174
religious stories, 442
The Religious System of the Amazulu (Callaway), 41–42
Rembe (Kakwa prophet), 290
research.
See also oral literary research
East African, 105
French, 140–141
German, 146–148
Japanese, 193–194
libraries and, 217–219
performance studies and, 334–339
on southern Africa, 421–423
Index
by universities, 184–188, 231, 504–505
resonators, 279
respect, 373, 411
retainers
color for, 67
for masquerades, 243
Retel-Laurentin, Anne, 131
Réunion, La, 181–182
Rey-Hulman, Diana, 140, 141
rhetorical devices, 323–324
Rhodesia.
See also Northern Rhodesia;
Southern Rhodesia;
Zimbabwe
CABS in, 110
field and broadcast collections from, 542
Rhodesia Front (RF) government, 527
rhymes, 374
rhythms, 260–261, 269.
See also polyrhythms
cosmic, superstitions about, 448–449
ribald languages, insults and, 189–190
Ricard, Alain, 141
Richard, R.Howkins, 131
Richards, Audrey, 400
riddles, 221, 395–396
in Caribbean, 46
in Central Africa, 54
dilemma tales v., 90–91
ideophones in, 180
joke, 64
Ndebele, 63–65
of North Africa, 5
on pot lids, 56
Rwandan, 402
Sesotho, 396–397
Shona, 432
South African, 419
Tabwa, 371
Riefenstahl, Leni, 131
ring asides, 83
rites
fertility, 224–225
puberty, 514
rites of passage, 77.
See also initiations
body art for, 33
ceremonies in U.S., 86
films on, 131, 132
libations with, 213–215
songs for, 415–416
wedding, 439
1182
Index
1183
ritual figures, 95–96
ritual healing, Vodou, 499
ritual performance, 397–400
rituals.
See also ceremonies;
specific rituals
for ancestors, 2
Bemba, 173–174
Beta Israel life cycle, 194
ceramics in, 57–58
for circumcision, 283, 283, 284
colors for, 66–68
dance and, 77–79
in electronic media, 111
in films, 131–133
hadra, 263
hunting, 176
Maghribian, 224–225
in medicine, 252–254
pottery in, 58
puppetry for history and, 376–377
robber talk, 46
Roberts, John, 121, 308, 488
Robinson, David, 11
rock paintings, 1
Dogon, 43
Khoisan, 39–40
masked performances in, 241
San, 424
Sukuma, 167
Rodney, Walter, 387
Rojas, Bernardo, 94
Romantic nationalism, 107
Roots (Haley), 163
Roschenthaler, Ute, 246
Rose, Tricia, 488
Rosetta Stone, 475
Ross, Mabel H., 444
Rosselini, Jim, 127
Rouch, Jean, 11
films by, 126–132, 441
Rouget, Gilbert, 66
Roulon-Doko, Paulette, 140
Rouveroy van Nieuwaal, Emile, 131
Roy, Christopher, 129
Roy, Martha, 10
Rubatab people, 121
maqalat and, 240–241
Rubusana, W.B., 426
Ruby, Jay, 126
Ruelland, Suzy, 140
Rules for Film Documentation in Ethnology and Folklore, 125–126
Index
rumor
gossip and, 152–153
legend v., 490
Rwanda, 400–401
tales of genocide, 401–402
rwimbo genre, 53
Saci (Afro-Brazilian character), 88–89
sacrifices
animal, 2, 124, 165, 214–215, 283, 283
beads and, 25
libations with, 213–215
Sane, 2
sheep, 26–28, 30
sacrificial speech, 290
Saharan civilization, 1
Saharan desert, 8
Saharawi Arab Democratic Republic, 506
sahhar (speaker), 403–404, 404
sahir (evil mouth), 403–405
Saho people, 118
Saho-Afar language, 95
Sai, Akiga, 318
saints, 394
Santeria religion and, 405–407
Salazar, António de Oliveira, 354
Salée, Pierre, 129
Samatar, S., 444
samba, 89
carnival and, 88
Samba, Cheri, 126
Samory, 32
Samper, David, 347
San (Bushmen), 421
beads by, 24
groups in Namibia, 78
positioning of dead by, 44
praise poetry of, 359
rock paintings, 424
storytellers, 424
sand drawings, 56
Sandoka, 81
Sane (debt) sacrifices, 2
Sango (god), 326, 329
Sango language, 348
Sankara, Thomas, 40
Santa Claus, 294
Santeria religion, 46, 405–407, 441
social and ritual dress of, 37, 50
Santos Junior, Rodrigues, 355
Sao people, 58
1184
Index
São Tomé, Príncipe and, 407
healing and spirit possession in, 165–166
performing arts of, 339–343
religious ceremonies/festivals in, 393–395
Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, 44
Saro-Wiwa, Ken, 505
Sarpong, Peter, 2
Satan, 477–478.
See also devil figure
satire, 97–98
in popular theater, 462, 463
Saudi Arabia, 293
Saussure, Ferdinand de, 220, 456
savannah regions
architecture in, 9–10
folktales of, 147
Savimbi, Jonas, 3
al-Sayim, al-Sheikh, 240–241
sayings, 374
scarifications, 183.
See also cicatrization
as body art, 33, 34, 511
films on, 131
for puberty, 102
in United States, 37
Schapera, Isaac, 358, 422, 426
Schechner, Richard, 336, 399
Scheub, Harold, 82, 185
on gender, 144
on research, 305–306, 307, 320, 336
Schiano, Jean-Francois, 128
Schild, Ulla, 147
Schoeck, Helmet, 122
Schon, J.F., 304
schools, 106–109
bush, 131
Colonial, 139
Finnish, 480
Parry-Lord, 114
puberty, 511, 512
Quranic, 107
Schott, Rüdiger, 147
Schuh, Russell G., 220
Schweitzer, Albert, 143
Scott, Joyce, 459
scripts, 458–459
sculptors, 31
sculpture.
See also statues
Makonde myths of origin and, 286
Shona, 433
sea, 115.
1185
Index
1186
See also loueds (channels on sea floor);
Yemoja (goddess of sea)
Sea Islands, of United States, 89–90
Searle, John R., 220
secrecy
as control of knowledge, 407, 408
in orature, 407–409
of surrogate languages, 451
seers, 252
Segarra, Luovic, 127
Segoete, Everitt Lechesa, 425
Segou, Force of, 116
Segou people, 113–114
Seitel, Peter, 82, 145
collections of, 306
institutional study and, 185, 187
Sekese, Azariele M., 425
Sekoni, Ropo, 306
SELAF. See Société d’Etudes Linguistiques et Anthropologiques de France
Selassie, Haile, 120, 386–387, 462
Seligman, Guy, 127
Seligman, Renda, 525
Semitic languages, 205, 231
Senegal, 409
draughts in, 98–99
field and broadcast collections from, 542–543
Senghor, Leopold, 351, 409
Senufo people
Baule v., 119
as blacksmiths/potters, 59
speaking and nonspeaking power objects of, 434–435
sermons, 489
Sesotho
proverbs, 375–376
riddles, 396–397
settler mentality, 84–85
“1744 Eclogues in Imitation of Virgil’s” (Cradock), 16
sex
birth/death rituals and, 26–29
in drama, 97–98
in etiological narratives, 281
hunting and abstinence from, 30
insults/ribald language regarding, 189–190
jokes regarding, 198
magic/witchcraft/sorcery and, 507, 509–510
nakedness and, 245
old woman and, 303
organs and blacksmith tools, 30
as speech, 518
verbal arts’ relationship to, 46
sexual freedom, 380–382
sexual mutilation, 131.
Index
See also circumcision;
clitoridectomy;
excisions
sexual taboos, 2
Seychelles, 181, 409–410
Seydou, Christiane, 140, 141, 186, 306
Shaafi-Islam language, 69
shades (ancestors), 100
Shaka, King, 288, 322
praise poetry for, 358, 422
Shango (god), 58, 406, 436
in film, 130
Shanklin, Eugenia, 380
shanties, as song type, 16
Shata, Mamman, 71
shaving
for birth/death rituals, 27–28
of hair, 38, 39
Shaw, Rosalind, 101
Sheba, Queen of, 194
sheep sacrifices
for birth/death rituals, 26–28
for iron smelting, 30
Sheikhs, 29–30
shells
basketry and, 20–21
cowrie, 507
Shembe, Isaiah, 422, 431
Sheng language, 410
“The Shepherd Boy” (Maasai narrative), 368
Sherzer, Joel, 334
Shi society, 54
Shibutani, Tamotsu, 152
Shilluk people, 121, 122, 325
Shona people, 431–434
architecture of, 7–8
gestures of, 149–151, 150
praise poetry of, 358, 360
tourist art of, 474
shotgun houses, 174–175
shouts, in atalaku music, 264–265
Shreve, G.M., 306
shrines
architecture of, 7
color for, 67
for water spirits, 502, 502–504
Sibiuso, Mbele, 126
Sibree, James, 233
Sieber, J., 147
Sieber, Roy, 457
Sierra Leone, 347, 411–412
field and broadcast collections from, 543
1187
Index
Sigd (pilgrimage holiday), 194
sign language, 411
signifying, toasts and, 488–489
Sigui film series (Rouch), 127, 129
Siigo, ‘Abdille ‘Ali, 444
silence, in expressive behavior, 411–412
silver, 254
silverwork, 33–34
similes, 403
Simmel, Georg, 407
Singer, Milton, 334
singers
Cote-d’Ivoire, 75
Hausa, 71
master-, 113
pop, women, 515–517
praise, 15
tied, 71
singing, 333
Sîrat Banî Hilâl epic, 412–414
Sirius (celestial body), 11
Sixteen Cowries (Bascom), 19
siyar (biography), 412–414
skin incisions, 43
Skinner, A.N., 71
Slave Songs of the Georgia Sea Islands (Parish), 89
slaves.
See also master-slave tales
banjo and, 15–16, 17
burial of, 45
in Cape Verde, 42
in Caribbean, 45
Chokwe and, 170
diaspora and, 84, 85
Ghana and, 152
hairstyles of, 38
housing for, 174
in Indian Ocean Islands, 182
Nigeria and, 292
in São Tomé and Príncipe, 340, 407
in Senegal, 409
in Sierra Leone, 411–412
silverwork and trade of, 33
in South Africa, 418
spirit possession and, 435, 441
surrogate languages of, 451
United States, Liberia and, 216
Vodou and, 496–498
in West Africa, 504
Slovo, Joe, 431
smelting, 30
Smith, Andrew, 422
1188
Index
1189
Smith, E.W., 305
Smith, Pierre, 141
Smith Edwin E., 443
smith-kings, 255
snakes
dance, 167
dreams about, 100
Snedegar, Keith, 11
snuff, 433
soap operas, 385–386, 485
Sobhuza II, 381, 425
social body, 44
social status
architecture as indication of, 9
blacksmith’s, 29–31
ceramics and, 57
dances and, 77
heroes and, 166
knowledge and, 373
spirit possession and, 439
socialization
through children’s folklore, 63–65
through education, 106–107
through ritual performance, 398–399
Société d’Etudes Linguistiques et Anthropologiques de France (SELAF), 139
society
secrecy and, 408
words in, 518
Soko, Boston, 358, 422
solar calendars, 12–13
Solomon, King, 194
Somali people, 95, 144
Somalia, 414–415
field and broadcast collections from, 543
Songhai empire, 236
Songhay people
epics of, 113, 114
spirit possession of Tuareg and, 438–440
songs, 316.
See also lullabies;
praise songs;
war songs;
work songs
agricultural, 115, 415
banjo in, 15–17
blacksmiths in, 31
Caribbean, 46–47
for ceremonies, 415–416
children’s, 65
clan, 172
corn-shucking, 16
Dyula, 416–418
Index
1190
in epics, 113–114
for farmers, 417, 520
in folktales, 135, 136
food vendors’, 138
Fulani, 366
game, 65
hunting, 415, 417, 520
Ibibio poetry and, 491
for Ijo water ethos, 503–504
of labor, 520
love, 47, 55, 415
for marriages, 55, 416
with masked animal invectives, 4
of mobilization, 519–520
mortuary, 55
oral texts as, 55
packet boat, 17
political oratory and, 323
of rejuvenation, 520–521
ritual, 6
swing, 263
tests, 199
for twins, 172–173
war, 61–63, 519
women’s, 263, 514
Songye people, 22
oral texts of, 55, 56
visual and performance arts of, 493–495
Soninke people, 30, 116
Son-Jara. See Sundiata epic
sorcerers
blacksmiths as, 31–32
Chokwe, 171
evil eye and, 121, 122
females as, 30
medicine and, 248–249, 252
rumors of, 152, 153
uses for, 181
sorcery, witchcraft, magic and, 506–510
sorghum grain, 137–138
Sorko people, 31
Sotho people, 11
Sotho-Tswana people, 358, 359–360
soukous (Congolese musical style), 71, 272, 273, 274–275
Soul City (TV drama), 385–386
Sound of Africa (International Library of African Music), 10
South Africa, 418
epics of, 420
ethnic groups in, 9, 11
field and broadcast collections from, 543–544
HIV/AIDS in, 418, 505–506
Namibia and, 287
Index
1191
oral traditions in, 418–420
praise poetry of, 357–360
Swaziland and, 451
southern Africa
folklore of, 420–424, 431–434
popular theater in, 465–466
tourist art of, 474
southern African contemporary folklore, 429–431
Southern African Development Community, 466
southern African oral traditions, 424–429
Southern Rhodesia, 526–527
Sowande, Bode, 128, 333
Soyinka, Wole, 128, 292, 315, 333, 475, 505
Mbari Club and, 464
Spain
Cuba and, 405
Morocco and, 256
Western Sahara and, 506
speaking. See oratory
speaking and nonspeaking power objects, of Senufo, 434–435
spears, 172
Spears, Arthur K., 207
Specimens of Malagasy Folklore (Dahle), 182
speech, 317.
See also oratory;
palaver
black street, 488–489
Chokwe, 171
through cloths, 453–456
games and, 220
gender in, 145
indigenous, 308
Lugbara formality of, 290–291
mediation, 301–302
sacrificial, 290
sex as, 518
Shona, 432
urban folk, of East Africa, 410
spells, 252
spiders, 4.
See also Ananse (spider);
Anansi (spider)
cloth, 456
in oral texts, 54
as tricksters, 294–295, 369–370, 442
Spies and Plesie (TV show), 430
Spikin, Mudi, 71
spirit possession
Bemba, 174
divination and, 91, 92–93, 130–131, 290
films on, 130–131
gender and, 438–439, 441
Index
and healing in São Tomé and Príncipe, 165–166
Kunda, 437
trances and, 439, 526
Tuareg and Songhay, 438–440
in West Africa, 440–441
spirit-possession cults, 438, 440–441.
See also Zâr cult
artists with, 71
ritual performance with, 398
in São Tomé and Príncipe, 165–166
spirit-possession dances, 77, 78
in Guyana, 435–437
spirit(s).
See also djinns (spirits);
Mami Wata (water spirit);
ngoma (ancestral spirits);
water spirits
bush, 119, 502–504
as cause of illnesses/diseases, 253–254
chiefs’, 173
groups, terrestrial, 436
mediums, 250
nature and, 174, 242
yam, 58
spirituality, 214
spirituals, 16
Spitta, Wilhelm, 293, 295
squirrel, 54
St. Vincent, West Indies, 321
staffs, 172, 302
standard African American English (SAAE), 208
Stappers, I., 304
stars.
See also stellar calendars
names for, 11
navigation using, 13
statues, 472–473
status.
See also social status
beadwork and, 23–25
body art as symbol of, 33–37
masks for, 242, 243–244
metallurgy and, 254–256
in myths, 283–286
naming customs and, 288
Steinbrich, Sabine, 147, 148
stellar calendars, 12–13
Stevens, Philips, Jr., 508
Stoller, Paul, 439
Stone, Ruth, 10–11, 185
on music, 258
Stono insurrection, in South Carolina, 16
1192
Index
stools
diplomacy and, 302
symbolism of, 67, 68, 382
stories, 445.
See also awaragasia (fables/stories);
manaw (narrative stories);
nganuriro genre (true stories)
folk, 110
ghost, 46
Limba storytelling and, 441–442
vampire, 105, 152–153
in Zanzibar, 485–486
storytellers, 316, 442–446, 518.
See also specific storytellers
films on, 127–128
Xhosa, 443, 443–444, 444, 511
storytelling, 332–333
Straube, Helmut, 147
Structural Adjustment Programme, 84
structuralism, 140
Stuart, James, 428
Sudan, 446.
See also Zâr cult
field and broadcast collections from, 544
maqalat in, 240–241
urban folklore of, 483–485
Sudan Textile Factory, 483–485
Suez Canal, 109, 292, 293
Sufism, 127, 190–192
Sukuma people, 167
Sumanguru, King, 32, 113, 116
sun, 12–13.
See also yowa cross
Sundiata epic, 113, 163, 236, 318
Sunjata epic, 32, 113, 116, 316, 505
as charter myth, 281
hunting in, 117
supernatural
dance and, 78, 242
in epics, 117
healing and, 88
iron working and, 31–32
in relation to folk medicine, 247–250
superstitions, 446–450
about cosmic rhythms, 448–449
Supreme Being (God), 216
in cosmology, 72–73
names for, 72
Suriname Creole people, 167–168
surrogate languages, 450–451
surveys, 306
survival, alliances for, 63
1193
Index
1194
Sutherland, Efua, 333
Sutherland-Arday, Esi, 188
Svoboda, T., 325
Swahili language, 348
Swahili people
Bao and, 18
epics of, 113, 114–115
hairstyles of, 38
in Zanzibar, urban folklore of, 485–486
Swaziland, 451
queen mothers in, 381
Sweeney, Joel, 17
Sy, Baby, 99
Szombati, I., 351
taatha (undigested contents of sheep’s intestines), 27–28
taboos
about performing folktales, 64
drama about, 98
homestead fires and, 28
illness from breach of, 248, 253–254
regarding magic, 507
regarding metal workers, 255–256
of recitation, 395
relating to nature, 73
sexual, 2
Tabshi, Sarkin, 71
Tabwa people
animal invectives of, 4–5
cardinal directions and, 43–44
prose narratives, 370–371
Tagurmat myth, 372, 373
Tagwa-Senuf people, 434
al-Tahir, Musa, 443
tailoring, 103
takata (to cleanse), 18
Tala, Kashim, 306
Talbot, Percy Amaury, 299–300
A Tale Type Index for Central Africa (Lambrecht), 481–482
Tales of a Thousand and One Nights, 115, 225, 486
tale-types, 479–482
talismans, 497, 497–499
talk shows, 110
talking drums, 16, 260–261, 277
as surrogate language, 450–451
Tañala people, 182, 234
myths of, 282–286
Tangherlini, Tim, 347
Tanzania, 453
cartoons in, 52
field and broadcast collections from, 544
Index
1195
tap dancing, 69
Tardits, Claude, 66
tarikhs (formal history), 318, 365
tattoos, 511
nsibidi, 299, 300
Taureg people, 44
Taylor, Charles, 216
Taylor, Sarah Mary, 458, 460
Taylor, William, 485–486
tchiloli (play), 340–341
Tchokwe ritual artifacts, 355, 356
Tchopi music, 355
teasing, 199
Tebifanana Abifuna Cultural Group, 345, 345
Tedlock, Dennis, 306, 315
television, 109–112, 505.
See also radio and television drama
Egyptian, 485
films and, 126, 129, 133, 353
Ladipo’s works for, 464–465
theater for, 469
Tenguella, Koli, 116
Teno, Jean-Marie, 126
tents
nomads’, 8
Taureg, 44
wedding, 439
terra-cottas, 23, 57
Teso. See Iteso people
Tessmann, Günter, 147
Tetela people
body paintings of, 56
oral texts of, 53–54
Tewodros, Emperor, 120
text, cloth as, 454–455
textiles, 102–103.
See also cloths
in African American body art, 37
African American quilts, cloth charms and, 456–461, 523
communication and, 453–456
wax prints on, 512, 514
West African, 505
theater, 333.
See also actors;
drama;
plays
apartheid and, 466
justice in, 341
programs, university, 464, 466, 467
of São Tomé and Príncipe, 340–342, 407
Yoruba folk, 462–464, 467–469
theater, popular, 352, 462–464
Index
1196
in southern Africa, 465–466
Theater for Development, 464, 466–467, 505
theses, dissertations and, 549–554
Thomas, Jacqueline, 140
Thompson, Robert Farris, 37, 304, 458, 523
Thompson, Stith, 148, 184.
See also Aarne-Thompson type index
Thoyer, Annik, 136, 305
thumb piano, 267, 521
Ti Zan (hero), 182
Tigray people, 118, 297–298
Tigre people, 118, 120
Tigrinia people, 194–195
tikoloshe (hairy witch-familiar), 100
time, change and in films, 126, 128
in greetings, 157–161
Titanic ship, 488
Tiv people, 343–344
toasts, signifying and, 488–489
tobacco, snuffing, 29
Todd, Loretto, 305
Togo, 469, 544
Tonga people, 165–166
tongue twisters
from East Africa, 469–470
Ndebele, 63, 65
Yoruba, 470
Torday, Emil, 186, 494
Torres, Bernardo Rojas, 94
totems, animals as, 73, 359
Touba, holy city of, 190–191
Toure, Samori, 164
Toure, Sekou, 164
touring performance groups, 463, 471–472
tourism, tourist arts and, 472–475.
See also specific countries
dolls for, 96
West African, 505
toys, 65, 89–90
dolls and, 95–96
Tracey, Hugh, 10, 304
Trade Union movement, 466
trade(s)
of basketry, 22
of beads, 23, 25, 34–35
brass, 34
cardinal direction and, 43
gold, 33
silver, 33
unclean, 30
The Traditional Artist in African Societies (d’Azevedo), 304
traditions, 311–313.
Index
1197
See also oral traditions
and advice from elders, 110
education’s promotion of, 106–108
hadith, 240, 318
religious, 390
The Tragic Story of the Marquis of Mântua and Emperor Charlemagne (Dias), 340–341
trances
dances involving, 77, 190, 192
during divination, 92–93
induced by drumming, 435–436
during performance, 333
from songs, 173
spirit possession and, 439, 526
transformation
dances for, 77–79
masquerade as, 241
transitions, women’s activities concerning, 511, 514
translation, 475–476
Traore, Isa, 136
Trautmann, René, 139
travel
films, 133
narratives, 231
Travele, Moussa, 136
Tremearne, Arthur John Newman, 304
trickster heroes, 166, 167
Ibambangulu, 167
Masala Kulangwa, 167
tricksters, 476–477.
See Ananse (spider);
Anansi (spider);
hare;
hyena
Abba Gabra-hanna, 194–195
Abu Nuwasi, 50, 115
animal, 4, 46, 54, 71, 134–135, 371
crow/elephants/lions v., 476, 477
in dilemma tales, 46
in electronic media, 110, 112
Eshu, 281, 477–478
in folktales, 134–135
gazelle, 476, 477
Gizo, 71, 220–221, 476
jackal, 476
Kalulu, 63, 314, 371
Kaso, 370
Legba, 281
lions v., 476, 477
Malice, 46
Mantis, 314
morality and, 168
in myths, 281
Index
1198
in oral narrative, 314
Rabbit as, 46
southern African, 427–428
spiders as, 294–295, 369–370, 442
Su, 4
Sungura, 314, 476
tortoise, 46, 50, 134, 314, 476–477, 491–492
Ture of Azande, 476, 478–479
Zomo, 476
Zulu Hlakanyaka, 113
Trinidad, 46, 47–50
Troughear, Tony, 474
Tsoungui, Francoise, 306
Tuan, Yi-Fu, 336
Tuareg people
architecture of, 8
gossip among, 152
hero for, 117
prose narratives of, 371–373
spirit possession of Songhay and, 438–440
Tuareg Senoussi Revolt, 372, 373
Tukolor people, 454
Tunisia, 479
astrology and healing in, 11–12
in Maghrib, 224, 227
Ture of Azande, 476, 478–479
Turkey, 228
Turnbull, Colin, 336, 500
Turner, Edie, 336
Turner, Lorenzo Dow, 89
Turner, Patricia, 490
Turner, Victor, 91, 334, 336
on ritual performance, 398, 400
turtle, 54
Turton, David, 128
Tutankhamun, King, 293
Tutsi people, 321, 400–401
Tutu, Osei, 169, 455
Tutu, Osei, II, 169, 382
Tutuola, Amos, 128, 475, 505
Twining, 37
Twins Seven-Seven, 465
Tylor, Edward, 41, 42
on dreams, 99–100
on Malagasy folklore, 233
on southern Africa, 422
The Types of the Folktale (Aarne/Thompson), 294, 295–296, 480–481
typology, performance and, 479–482
U.K. See United Kingdom
uano genre, 53–54
Index
1199
Ubangi-Shari, 57
Uganda, 483
cartoons in, 52
field and broadcast collections from, 544
music and dances in, 266–268, 267, 345–346
performing arts of, 344–346
Ugonna, Nnabuenyi, 307
ukara clothing, 299, 299
uli painting, Igbo, 495–496
ululation, 27, 511
Umbanda religion, 391, 393
umbrellas, 68
Umhlanga/Reed dance, 35
Umkasetemba, Lydia, 443
Uncle Remus (Harris), 338.
See also Nights with Uncle Remus
uncles, 159
UNESCO (United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization)
on media, 111
on tradition, 108
uniforms, 102
Union of National Radio and Television Organizations of Africa (URTNA), 111
United Kingdom
African communities in, 84–85
education in, 84
United States.
See also North America
African communities in, 85–87
draughts/checkers in, 98–99
Egypt’s relationship with, 109
field and broadcast collections from, 544–546
hairstyling of immigrants to, 86
institutional study in, 184–187, 555–556
Kwanzaa in, 201–203
Liberia, slavery and, 216
Libya and, 220
music in, 260–262
Oyo Tunji in, 328–330
Sea Islands of, 89–90
universe
in myths, 282–284
in religion, 390
universities, 105, 108, 140.
See also colleges
of California/Berkeley, 556
in Egypt, 293
films and, 126
in Ghana, 152
Indiana, 184–185, 187, 336, 555
of Pennsylvania, 556
research by, 184–188, 231, 504–505
of Texas, 336
Index
1200
theater programs, 464, 466, 467
of Wisconsin, 184–185, 187, 336, 555–556
Upper Volta, 547.
See also Burkina Faso
Ur form (or Archetype), 480
urban folk speech, of East Africa, 410
urban folklore
Sudanese, 483–485
of Swahili in Zanzibar, 485–486
urban legends, 489–490
urbanism, 217, 350
in epics, 114
Mami Wata’s links with immigration and, 237
Uriel (angel), 45
Ursa Major, 13–14
Ursa Minor, 14
URTNA. See Union of National Radio and Television Organizations of Africa
U’Tam’si, Tchicaya, 71
Vail, Leray, 358, 421–422
Valencia, Anselmo, 336
Valencia, Heather, 336
vampire stories, 105, 152–153
Vansina, Jan, 318, 320, 408
Vasconcelhos, José de, 353–354
vehicles, 351.
See also decorated vehicles, in Nigeria;
mamy wagons;
matatu
veils, 102
Velten, Carl, 147
verbal artists, Hausa as, 71–72
verbal arts, 311, 313
African American, 487–490
Caribbean, 45–47
of Ibibio in southeastern Nigeria, 490–493
linguistics and, 220–221
political oratory as, 322–324
in schools, 108
verbal discourse, Lugbara narration and, 289–291
verbal dueling, 488, 489
for marriages, 514
verbal exchanges, hostile, 46
Vichekesho theater, 463
Vico, Giambattista, 297
Vilakazi, B.W., 426
Villalonga, Ifá Bí Francisco, 93
virtues, 73, 117
visimi (songs), 63
visual arts, 351
Baule, 119–120
Index
1201
Songye performance and, 493–495
uli painting of Igbo, 495–496
Vladimir Propp and the Universal Folktale:
Recommissioning and Old Paradigm—Story as Initiation (Gilet), 296
vocabulary, 64, 65
vocal music
African American, 261
Arab and Jewish, 262–263
homophonic parallelism in, 259
vocation, through lineages, 253
Vocke, Sibylle, 6
Vodou religion, 45, 496–499
Vodun religion, 441, 458–459
dolls of, 458, 460
Vogel, Susan, 119
voice-disguisers, 499–500
identity and, 97
Voigt, Wilmos, 186
Voisset, Georges, 307
Voltaic groups, 74
Voodoo, 45
films on, 130
wa Mirii, Ngugi, 333
wa Thiongo’o, Ngugi, 333
Wachs, Eleanor, 347
Wahlman, 37
Waja people, 154, 154
wakes, 46
Walantu Walansa (hairstyle), 39
Walker, Barbara K., 444
wall painting, 495–496, 511.
See also graffiti
wa-Mungi, Mbugua, 347
wanga (charms/talismans), 497, 497–499
war.
See also Fulani jihad (holy war);
military;
specific wars
Boer, 418, 427
color symbolism for, 67, 68
in epics, 116
of Independence, Algerian, 414
legends, 212
praise poetry for, 361
towns, Zulu, 9
War Crimes Commission, 400
war songs, 519
Iteso children’s folklore and, 61–63
Wardi, Mohammed, 446
Ware, Otumfuor Opoku, II, 169
Index
Wari, 501–502, 502
Bao v., 19
as mancala game, 239
Warner, Pecolia, 457
Warren, Michael, 130
warriors, 212, 372, 373
“The Warrior and Dove” (Maasai narrative), 368
Wat Mon Cultural Group, 345, 345
water.
See also Mami Wata (water spirit)
dreams about, 100
Water, Muddy, 460
water ethos, Ijo, 502–504
water spirits, 283–285, 502, 502–504
Watermama worship, 436
Waterman, Richard, 169
WB. See World Bank
wealth
beads as, 34
body art as symbol of, 33–35
cattle as symbol of, 64
chiefs’, 61
cloth as symbol of, 457–458
perception of, 29
weapons
in festivals, 124–125
during Yengu, 192
weather, superstitions about, 448
wedding(s), 85
beads in, 35
dance for, 79
tents, 439
verbal arts at, 46
Weghsteen, Joseph, 370
Weiskel, Timothy, 119
Weiss, Brad, 153
Wemba, Papa, 81, 275
Wenger, Suzanne, 465
Werbner, Richard P., 91
werewolves, 182
West Africa, 504–506
epics of, 115–117
ethnic groups in, 1, 9
highlife music of, 275–276, 276
music of, 257, 260–261
spirit possession in, 440–441
tourist art of Central and, 473
wari in, 501–502
West Indies, 75
Westcott, Joan, 477
Westermann, Diedrich, 147
Westermarck, Edward, 302
1202
Index
Westermark, D., 325
Western institutions, 271
Western Sahara, 506
Westernization, 217
affect on education, 106–108
of electronic media, 111
White, Graham, 37
White, Landey, 358, 421–422
White, Luise, 152
White, Shane, 37
Whiteley, Wilfred, 121, 184, 328
WHO. See World Health Organization
wickerwork, 21
Williams, Dennis, 465
Williams, Donna, 338
Willmore, J. Seldon, 293
Wilson, Monica Hunter, 509
Winford, Donald, 207
Winkler, Hans Alexander, 147
winter solstice
observation of, 12
tropical year and, 13
Wissman, 493
witchcraft, 41.
See also Umbanda religion
dreams and Azande, 100
evil eye and, 121–122
magic, sorcery and, 506–510
Mami Wata and, 237
medicine and, 248, 249, 252
rumors of, 152
in São Tomé and Príncipe, 165–166
uses for, 72, 181
witches.
See also childwitches
blacksmiths v., 256
illness/disease and evil eye of, 252
Wodaabe, Fula, 132
Wohlenberg, Hellmut, 147
Wolof people
griots/jeles, 15
poetry of, 145
Wolof tunings, 15
women.
See also females;
motherhood;
Nya Gwan;
old man and old woman;
queen mothers
activities concerning transitions, 511, 514
Amazon, 26
in Arab/Jewish music of North Africa, 263
1203
Index
1204
Ba Aka, 520, 520, 521, 521
basketry and, 20–21, 21
beadwork and, 24, 25, 34–35
in Berber communities, 229
during birth/death rituals, 26–29
body arts of, 32–35, 511–512
celestial names and, 11
in ceremonies, 511–512
color symbolism for, 67–68
in epics, 113, 114
of Eritrea, 512–514, 513
expressive culture of, 510–512
during festivals, 124
films on, 131–132
in folktales, 226
free-born v. jeli, 515–516
of Ghana, 514–515
housing for, 10
influence on church music, 271
laws for, 513
masquerades by Ejagham, 244–246
and men, dreams of, 100
and men, in drama, 97–98
in Mozambique, 257
narratives for, 370
occupations for, 511
in oral literature study, 307
performance style of, 372–373
pop singers, and broadcast media in Mali, 515–517
as potters, 57–59
praises for children and, 359–360
prohibitions for, 29
purification rituals for, 194
as queen-mothers, 60
in radio/television, 110, 111
women’s folklore, 484–485
wood carving, 494
wooden figures
Akan, 66
Vodou, 498–499
Woodhead, Leslie, 128
Woodward, David, 43
words, and Dogon, 517–519
work songs, 465, 511, 519–522
World Bank (WB)
affect on Mauritania, 247
cartoons about, 52
involvement in education, 42, 108
Tanzania and, 453
Zimbabwe and, 527
world exhibitions, 354
World Health Organization (WHO), 111
Index
World War I, 147
music after, 272
World War II, 147, 220
music after, 275, 352
nationalism after, 468
popular culture after, 350, 352
research after, 504
tourist art after, 472
worldview, medicine and, 247–249
worship, 214–215
ancestor veneration v., 2–3
Watermama, 436
Woukoache, François, 133
Woyo people, 56, 58
wrapping cloth, 102
Wright, Richard, 338
writers, 292, 356
writing.
See also graffiti
oral traditions v., 317–318, 320
protective, 459–460
surrogate languages v., 450
writing systems, 455.
See also nsibidi writing system;
scripts
Xhosa people
on celestial names, 11
gender of, 144
oral traditions of, 426–428
praise poetry of, 357, 361–364
storytellers of, 443, 443–444, 444, 511
xylophones, 258, 258, 259, 277
Yai, Olabiyi, 336–337, 338
Yaka people, 55
Yalley, Teacher/Master, 69, 463
yam
festivals, 15, 33
spirit, 58
Yamvwa, Mwata, 123
Yankah, Kwesi, 145, 188, 306, 334
on political oratory, 323, 324
yards and gardens, African American, 523–524
Yemaya (orisha), 406, 436
Yemoj (god), 329
Yemoja (goddess of sea), 326
Yengu ceremony, 190, 191–192
Yoruba people.
See also Ifá divination;
Oyo Tunji;
1205
Index
1206
Santeria religion
animal invectives of, 4
architecture of, 9
Bascom on divination by, 19
in Benin, 26
in Celestial Church of Christ, 44–45
cultural organizations for, 84, 86
decorated vehicles message of, 80
deities of, 72
Egungun ancestral mask cult of, 2
Eshu trickster of, 477–478
food vendors, 138
gender and poetry of, 145
Ladipo and folk theater of, 462–464
oríkì praise poetry of, 364–365
pottery of, 58
religion of, 46
textiles of, 454
tongue twisters of, 470
Young, M.I., 335
yowa cross, 45
Yungur people, 154, 154–155
Zaghawa people, 29–30
Zahan, Dominique, 141
Zaire.
See also Democratic Republic of Congo
Belgium and, 81
field and broadcast collections from, 547
ivory in, 34
Zairian Rumba, 272, 274
Zambia, 525, 527
electronic media in, 109–112
field and broadcast collections from, 547
oral traditions, oral history and, 319–320
Zambia National Broadcasting Corporation (ZNBC), 110, 111
Zañahary (god), 282, 285
Zande people, 53
Evans-Pritchard on, 121
ZANU freedom fighters, 465
Zanzibar
Bao in, 18, 18–19
field and broadcast collections from, 547
urban folklore of Swahili in, 485–486
Zâr cult, 130, 295, 398, 438, 525–526
Zaramo people, 96
Zarrilli, Phillip, 336
Zayd, Abu, 113
Zenani, Nongenile Mazithathu, 144, 511
Zimbabwe, 526–527
architecture in, 7–8
Index
1207
field and broadcast collections from, 547
IMF cartoons in, 52
zithers, 280
ZNBC. See Zambia National Broadcasting Corporation
Zodiac, signs of, 12
zombies, 509, 510
zouglou groups, 75
Zulu language, Basic, 348
Zulu people
architecture of, 9
beadwork of, 24, 35
Callaway on, 41–42
on celestial names, 11
divination and, 91
oral traditions of, 424, 426–428
praise poetry of, 144, 357–358
Zwernemann, Jürgen, 147