Oral Literature in Africa (21 page)

Another and very different class of poems where performance may be so much to the fore that the element of composition seems to vanish is that of dance songs, work songs, or songs accompanying children’s games. Here the song is merely the background to some other activity, and repetition of known verses is more noticeable than poetic originality. Songs of this kind can become popular and spread over a wide area with incredible speed, to be supplanted after a time by new ones. Yet, as will appear in later chapters, even in these cases there can be modification and additions either in the musical aspects or in the words. Even if, for instance, the chorus remains more or less the same so that a superficial observer may be pardoned for considering it just another performance of the same old song, the soloist who leads the song and supplies the verses may in fact be making his own original musical and verbal contribution.

A more accurate case of the true circulation of a poem independently of its composer is to be found in the areas where the existence of writing has led to the concept of a
correct
version which can be copied or learnt in
an exact form. For indigenous African verse the writing is most often in Arabic script, and we find—as in Swahili, Hausa, or Fulani—a tradition both of the circulation of definitive versions of poems and of remembering the original authors by name. Such poems may also circulate by oral means, for actual literacy is often confined to the few, but they differ from fully oral compositions in that the roles of composer and reciter can be clearly distinguished.

In many cases it is difficult to assess how much emphasis should be laid on the two aspects of composition and of delivery. It is not easy to tell, for instance, how far the verse in any single instance is the product just of a performer reproducing well-known and prescribed forms with little contribution of his own, and how far it can also be put down to the arts of the creative poet; or how much one can attribute to the stimulation and participation of the audience or the emotion of the occasion itself. Many investigators have particularly emphasized the aspect of the second-hand reproducing of known traditional forms; and this interpretation has of course been especially popular with those very impressed by the concepts of communal creation or of the ‘typical’ poem and so on.

In African literature one can of course encounter both the second-rate technician and the inspired artist—oral art is no exception in this. But when the role of the poet or singer is analysed in some detail, we are left wondering whether creative composition (either the spontaneous creation of the accomplished and sensitive artist or conscious long-drawn-out composition in preparation for later display) may not be rather more important than is often realized; and we may suspect that the playing down of this factor may be due as much to lack of investigation as to any basis in the facts. Without Anyumba’s analysis, for instance, we could hardly appreciate the care and conscious art with which some Luo singers sometimes compose their songs, and would be more likely, in a common search for ‘the typical lament’ of the Luo, to omit any consideration of the individuality of the inspired Luo poet. The actual circumstances of composition and the personality and skill of individual poets deserve fuller consideration than they have yet received.
²¹

To others, as to me, this chapter must seem unbearably sketchy and impressionistic. A few of the points raised are explored a little further in later chapters which deal with some of the different genres of poetry and their exponents in various cultures. But the main reason for the gaps is ignorance, not lack of space. This must be in part because I have not read far enough in the sources to discover the answers to many of the questions I want to raise. But it is also that such factors as the general position of the poet, his poetic training, his economic situation, his relation to his audience, his patron, other poets, or the general culture of his time, his modes of composition and inspiration—all these have seemed to be of little interest to investigators, even those who have published excellent accounts of other aspects of oral literature. We know enough to be able to guess at the variety that can be found and that the simplistic pictures we opened with are not sufficient; but in practically no African society have these points been fully explored. This is the sphere above all in which there is the widest need and scope for further investigation.

A NOTE ON ‘EPIC’
²²

Epic is often assumed to be the typical poetic form of non-literate peoples, or at least of non-literate peoples at a certain stage. Surprisingly, however, this does not seem to be borne out by the African evidence. At least in the more obvious sense of a ‘relatively long narrative poem’, epic hardly seems to occur in sub-Saharan Africa apart from forms like the (written) Swahili
utenzi
which are directly attributable to Arabic literary influence.

The term ‘epic’ appears in the titles of several collections or discussions of African oral literature
²³
(perhaps partly because of the common expectation that it is likely to be a wide-spread art form). But almost all these works in fact turn out to be in prose, not verse—and often only brief prose tales at that. There are only a very few in verse form.
²⁴
Many of the lengthy praise poems, particularly those in South Africa, do contain some
epic elements and provide the nearest common parallel to this form in Africa. Nevertheless, as will emerge in the following chapter, panegyric poetry concentrates far more on the laudatory and apostrophic side than on the narrative and cannot really qualify as ‘epic’ poetry in the normal sense of the word.

The most frequent mentions come from the equatorial areas of the Congo, particularly among the Mongo-Nkundo peoples where ‘epics’ have been referred to by many scholars. But even these cases are somewhat doubtful. For one thing, many of these narratives seem quite clearly to be in prose merely interspersed with some sung pieces in the regular manner of African stories,
²⁵
and there is no reason to believe that they differ radically in form from such prose tales.
²⁶
And even if one waives the verse criterion, as is done in some definitions of epic, the Congo instances are still rather ambiguous. Take the most famous case of all, the ‘Lianja epic’ (see Chapter 13). In its most fully published form it runs to about 120 pages of print for both text and translation—the sort of scale which might qualify—and covers the kinds of events we tend to associate with epic or heroic poetry: the birth and tribulations of the hero, his travels and leadership of his people, finally his death. But how far was this conceived of and narrated as a unity prior to its recording (and perhaps elaboration) in written form?
²⁷
It is not at all certain that the traditional pattern was not in fact a very loosely related bundle of separate episodes, told on separate occasions and not necessarily thought of as one single work of art (though recent and sophisticated narrators say that ideally it should be told at one sitting, de Rop 1964: 17). By now, of course, its circulation as a composite written narrative among sophisticated audiences has, in a sense, established ‘The Tale of Lianja’ as a kind of (prose) epic in its own right, and this and similar forms in the Congo are well worth study—but it does not follow that we have discovered the existence of an
oral
epic tradition even in prose, much less in verse.

A better case might be made out for the less celebrated
mvet
literature further to the west in Gabon, Spanish Guinea, and the Southern Cameroons (particularly among the Fang peoples). In this area many different kinds
of songs are sung to the accompaniment of the
mvet
(a type of lyre), and these seem to include some historical poetry not unlike epic.
²⁸
It has been described as ‘art musical, art chorégraphique, art theâtral même, mais surtout art de la parole qui retrace avec tant d’habileté la société de nos pères pahouins’ (Towo-Atangana 1965: 178). However there is as yet little published material readily available about this type of narrative poetry, and further study is needed before we can come to any conclusion about whether or not it can truly be described as ‘epic’.

All in all, epic poetry does not seem to be a typical African form. Some exceptions can of course be found (in addition to the controversial cases already mentioned), nearly all of which need further published elucidation;
²⁹
and we must not forget the many Arabic-influenced historical narratives in the northerly areas of the continent and the East Coast. Certain
elements
of epic also come into many other forms of poetry and prose. But in general terms and apart from Islamic influences, epic seems to be of remarkably little significance in African oral literature, and the
a priori
assumption that epic is the natural form for many non-literate peoples turns out here to have little support.

Footnotes

1
   For example on the Yoruba (Johnson 1921: 125), Fon (Herskovits 1958: 20–1); and the general comments in
Notes and Queries on Anthropology
1951: 204, and Vansina 1965: 148–9.

2
   On the question of ‘epic’ and historical poetry generally see the note appended to this chapter.

3
   See Nketia 1963
b
: Chapter 10; and Meyerowitz 1952: 19–20. Similar musical groups are found in the retinues of other Ghanaian chiefs (e.g. Ga, Adangme, or Ewe), charged with the duty of performing praise chants as well as processional and dancing music (Nketia 1962: 18–19).

4
   Nothing has been said about the Interlacustrine Bantu kingdoms of East Africa: there is in fact surprisingly little evidence about any formal office of court poet(s) there, though the Chadwicks report a personal communication by Roscoe about a chief at the Ganda royal court responsible for the recitation in poetical form of royal genealogies (Chadwicks iii 1940: 576; also Roscoe 1911: 35). It is possible that some of the functions of court poets, such as adding pomp and ceremony to the king’s public appearances, were in East Africa fulfilled by musical performances with less stress on the verbal element, e.g. by the Ganda royal drummers described in Roscoe: 25ff.

5
   The account here is based mainly on Kagame 1951
b
, esp. pp. 22ff.

6
   See Kagame 1951
b
: 14ff. on the three main types of figurative language which he designates, respectively, as
synonymique, homonymique, metonymique
.

7
   For further comments on Islamic religious poetry see Chapter 7.

8
   For example, the Cameroons Fulani
modibbo
, who was at once an official writer, a narrator, and a court poet Mohamadou 1963: 68).

9
   Or so it seems from the sources. But much more investigation needs to be made of the role of the local preacher in this respect (and of course in the sphere of oratory many of these preachers make their own contributions to oral art week after week).

10
  That all freelance poets are not equally conventional, however, is apparent from Gidley’s account of Hausa comedians who satirize and parody the usual praise songs (Gidley 1967: 64–9).

11
  See also Zemp 1964. I came across a number of these musicians in northern Sierra Leone in 1961 plying their trade in the non-Mandingo communities of the country, as did Laing over a century earlier (Laing 1825: 132–3).

12
  It has also been suggested that the term is connected with the Arabic
oawwal
(narrator of the Soufi sect) (Blair in Diop 1966: xix). It apparently first entered French through the early French travellers to Senegal in the eighteenth century (see Zemp 1964: 375), and, as is well known, has since been taken up by the
négritude
French literary movement. But a full study of the history and usage of this word in European languages, let alone its referents in West Africa, seems never to have been made (though see the discussion in Colin 1957, Ch. 3; and Rouget n.d.: 225–7) and should be well worth pursuing.

13
  In particular this seems not to apply to the authors of Muslim poetry, who, among some of the Fulani at least, tend to be of noble birth (Ba 1950: 173–4; Lacroix 1965: 31, 35–36). See also Belinga 1965: 116ff. on the
mbom-mvet
of Cameroun.

14
  For some further details of this rather complex organization in Senegambia see Gamble 1957: 45; Silla 1966: 764–7; in Haut-Sénegal and Niger, Delafosse iii 1912: 117–18; for the Toucouleur of Senegal, Diop 1965: 23; a useful bibliography is given in Zemp 1966.

15
  For example, the Fon wives’ choruses praising chiefs, (Herskovits ii 1938: 322) the Hottentot sarcastic ‘reed songs’ (Hahn 1881: 28), Somali
buraambur
(Andrzejewski and Lewis 1964: 49), or certain named dancing songs at Limba memorial ceremonies.

16
  Notably the Tuareg (see Chadwicks iii 1940: 658ff).

17
  For example, some of the Ivory Coast singers mentioned in Zemp 1964.

18
  See the excellent description of Yoruba
ijala
singers in Babalola 1966, especially chapters 4 and 8.

19
  See also the Pemba competitions mentioned in Whiteley 1958, and the rather different Somali use of poetic combat as a means of publicity in war and peace in Andrzejewski and. Galaal 1963.

20
  Though even there the common African practice of balancing soloist and chorus gives scope for a certain degree of expertise by the leader.

21
  A partial exception, with the main emphasis on the musical aspect, is Nketia’s
African Music in Ghana
1962. See also (besides references given earlier) Lacroix 1965 (on Adamawa Fulani), de Dampierre 1963 (Nzakara), Andrzejewski and Lewis 1964 (Somali), Babalola 1966 (Yoruba). For some further remarks on composition see Chapter 9.

22
  This is admittedly a large subject to discuss in such a note, but some brief apologia seemed due to explain the non-appearance of the term in a work of this kind. For a helpful introduction to this rather controversial subject see Knappert in Andrzejewski and Messenger 1967.