Oral Literature in Africa (27 page)
Read Oral Literature in Africa Online
Authors: Ruth Finnegan
Self-praises here serve to re-assure and raise morale in an unfamiliar environment. They seem to be found particularly useful as a stimulant when proceeding on a courting expedition, besides being used to impress the ladies, on arrival.
(D. Rycroft, personal communication)
Some of the subjects treated in these modern praise poems are analogous to the traditional ones—new types of adventures, distinguished visitors, wedding feasts, self-praises in modern terms—and such topics can be treated with the same kind of solemnity and imagery as the traditional ones. Other new poems concentrate on praises of inanimate things and of animals (race-horses, for instance). The following brief oral poem about a bicycle seems typical of modern interests and treatment; it was recorded from the Hurutshe living in the native reserve and location of Zeerust:
My frail little bicycle,
The one with the scar,
27
my sister Seabelo,
Horse of the Europeans, feet of tyre,
Iron horse, swayer from side to side
(Merwe 1941: 336)
From the same source comes this extract from the praises of a train. It includes the traditional motifs of metaphorical comparison to an animal, parallelism, allusion, and adulatory address:
Beast coming from
Pompi,
from
Moretele,
It comes with a spider’s web and with gnats
28
It having been sent along by the point of a needle and by gnats.
Swartmuis,
beast coming from
Kgopi-Kgobola-diatla
[bumping]
Out of the big hole [tunnel] of the mother of the gigantic woman …
Team of red and white pipits [the coaches], it gathered the track unto itself,
Itself being spotlessly clean.
Tshutshu [noise of engine] of the dry plains
Rhinoceros
(tshukudu)
of the highlands
Beast coming from the South, it comes along steaming,
It comes from
Pompi
and from
Kgobola-diatla
(Merwe 1941: 335)
The same kind of style is also evident in modern written forms. One can compare, for instance, the following lines from another praise poem about a train, this time written by a Sotho student at a training institute:
I am the black centipede, the rusher with a black nose
Drinker of water even in the fountains of the witches,
And who do you say will bewitch me?
I triumphed over the one who eats a person (the sun) and over the pitch black darkness
When the carnivorous animals drink blood day and night.
I am the centipede, the mighty roarer that roars within
(Van Zyl 1941: 131)
Amidst new interests and the inevitable changes of outlook consequent on the passing of the old aristocratic order, the literary form of praise poetry still flourishes, in however modified a form, and the ancient praises still bring inspiration and a formal mode of literary expression to modern artists. Praise poetry still performs its old functions of recording outstanding events, expressing praise, and recalling the history of the people.
Praise poetry, and in particular the Southern Bantu form, is among the best-documented types of African oral poetry. Nevertheless, much remains to be studied. Further collections could be made or published—so far only a fragment has appeared in print. There are other general problems too. There is the question, for instance, of how far this form, apparently so closely connected with kingly and aristocratic society, also occurs in non-aristocratic areas or periods.
29
Many detailed problems arise too about style, prosody, and, in particular, composition. Though many texts have been collected,
30
particularly from South Africa, full discussions of these are less common,
31
and further detailed accounts are now needed of specific forms in particular areas.
Footnotes
1
For further discussion of names and their significance see Chapter 16.
2
The largest collection is in Verger 1957.
3
Reference to a crow with a white band which shows intermittently in flight—i.e. do not expect consistency from this powerful ruler.
4
i.e. we ought to enjoy even ill treatment from such a great man.
5
We must bear his will whatever it is.
6
He is as overpowering as the sun dazzling in the sky.
7
You trample it down as you trample your enemies.
8
No efforts of ours will curb his will.
9
As formidable to his foes as the swelling in the palm-tree to one trying to swarm up it.
10
His power is compared to that of a tough climbing plant. Fletcher 1912: 38–9. On Hausa praise poetry see also Prietze 1918; Smith 1957.
11
This is apparently typical of Eastern Bantu poetry (Chadwicks iii, 1940: 577) and of some peoples in West Africa such as the Bambara (Pâques 1954: 108).
12
For similar self-praises among the Ibo on the occasion of taking an
ozo
title see the instance quoted in Ch. 16.
13
Besides references to panegyric cited elsewhere in this chapter, see also the collection of Kanuri praise poems in Patterson 1926.
14
See in particular the detailed analysis of different periods of Zulu poetry in the unpublished thesis by Kunene (1962) summarized in Cope 1968: 50ff. Also detailed studies by Cope, Schapera, Mofokeng, and others. There is a brief description of some different styles which contrast with ‘the main stream of Zulu praise-poetry’ in Cope 1968: 61–3.
15
Besides other references in this chapter see also Chiwale 1962; the brief description of Shona praise songs by Mandishona in Fortune 1964; also the Rozi praise poem quoted in Fortune 1956; Morris 1965; Gbadamosi 1961.
16
The leopard sits in a tree over the path and claws at the head of a passer-by.
17
i.e. Shaka’s courage is contrasted with the cowardice of those who did not answer the call.
18
A reference to a famous battle between Shaka and Zwide which took place in the broken country near Nkandhla.
19
See the examples of this in the Zulu panegyric in Cope 1968: 34.
20
The following account is mainly based on Mofokeng, 1945 part iii, Ch. 1.
21
Several occur in the poem about Shaka quoted earlier.
22
There may be some exceptions to this. The pre-Shakan Zulu praise poem is said to be short and simple and not always made up of stanzas (Cope 1968: 52–3).
23
See the detailed examples in Schapera 1965: 11ff.
24
On style and language see especially Lestrade 1935, Grant 1927: 203, Schapera 1965: 15 and Cope 1968: 38; the following account is based particularly on Mofokeng’s unpublished thesis (especially part iii, Chs. 1 and 3) on Southern Sotho praise poems.
25
See the instances of this in Zulu praise poems in Cope 1968: 45–6.
26
Though see Cope 1968: 21.
27
i.e. the bag of tools attached.
28
A reference to the smoke.
29
See forthcoming work by W. Whiteley on praise songs among the Kamba; also instances among the Ila and Tonga of Zambia (Jones 1943: 12).
30
Including some published in the original only, e.g. C. L. S. Nyembezi,
Izibongo zamakhosi
(Zulu), 1958 (not seen; reference in Cope 1968); Z. D. Mangoaela,
Lithoko tsa marena a Basotho
(S. Sotho), Morija, 1921 (not seen; reference in Schapera 1965).
31
Though see Schapera 1965 (Tswana); Morris 1964 (Ankole); Cope 1968 (Zulu); Coupez 1968 (Ruanda); and Mofokeng 1945 on Southern Sotho. Otherwise detailed discussion tends to be in the form of short articles.
6. Elegiac Poetry
General and introductory. Akan funeral dirges: content and themes; structure, style, and delivery; occasions and functions; the dirge as literature
.
I
Elegiac poetry is an exceedingly common form of expression in Africa. We hear of it from all areas and in many different forms. However it is usually less specialized and elaborate than panegyric poetry, and, perhaps for this reason, it has attracted less interest.
1
More private and normally lacking the political relevance of panegyric poetry—to which, nevertheless, it is closely related—it tends to be performed by non-professionals (often women) rather than state officials. It shades into ‘lyric’ poetry and in many cases cannot be treated as a distinctive genre. However, lamentation so frequently appears in a more or less stylized and literary form in Africa that it is worth treating on its own in this chapter. Furthermore, some account of Nketia’s detailed work on Akan funeral dirges—a study not known widely enough
2
—may serve as a stimulus to further similar work, and at the same time illustrate some of the complex artistic conventions that can be distinguished in one type of non-professional oral poetry in Africa.
The most obvious instances of elegiac poetry are those poems or songs performed at funeral or memorial rites. In this sense elegiac poetry ranges from the Islamic funeral song sung by Hausa mallams and reduced to writing in the nineteenth century (Robinson 1896: 2–13), or the short but
complex Akan funeral dirges chanted by women soloists, to the simple laments with leader and chorus that are sung among the Limba and others, laments in which the musical and balletic elements are as important as the words.
The occasions for these laments differ from people to people. Often dirges are sung round the corpse (or round the house in which the corpse lies) while it is being prepared for burial. Sometimes, as among the Akan, this is followed by a period of public mourning, during which the corpse lies in state and dirges are sung. The actual burial may or may not be accompanied by elegies: among the Akan it is not (Nketia 1955: 15), while among the Limba all normal burials should be accompanied by singing. Deaths are also often celebrated by memorial ceremonies later and these too are usually accompanied by songs that sometimes include strictly funeral songs, and sometimes panegyric of the dead.
On these occasions women are the most frequent singers. Among the Yoruba women lament at funeral feasts (Ellis 1894: 157f.), Akan dirges are chanted by women soloists (Nketia 1955: 8 and
passim
) and the
zitengulo
songs of Zambia are sung by women mourners (Jones 1943: 15). The fact that these songs often involve wailing, sobbing, and weeping makes them particularly suitable for women—in Africa as elsewhere such activities are considered typically female. Also common are laments sung by a chorus of women, sometimes led by one soloist, and often accompanied by dancing or drumming. Occasionally men too are involved. Among the Limba, for instance, the initial mourning over the corpse is invariably by women, in either chorus or antiphonal form; but in the case of an adult male the burial itself is by the men’s secret society and the accompanying songs are by men. Specialists too are sometimes conventionally mourned by their peers. Thus an expert hunter may have special songs sung at his funeral by fellow hunters (men) who come to attend the rites. Occasionally too one hears of professional or semi-professional singers. Thus the Yoruba sometimes invited professional mourners to their funerals to add an extra embellishment to the usual laments of the bereaved women (Ellis 1894: 157).
Figure 12. Funeral songs in the dark in Kamabai, 1961 (photo Ruth Finnegan).
Many of these songs are topical and ephemeral. That is, they are composed for use at the funeral of one individual and relate to him only, though they naturally use the accepted idioms and forms. Thus among the Ila and Tonga of Zambia, the
zitengulo
mourning songs are sung only once: they are very short and composed by a woman who mourns and thinks over the life’s work of the deceased; she bases her song on this, starts to sing little by little, and adds words and melody until the song is complete (Jones 1943: 15). Other funeral songs, perhaps particularly the choral ones, seem to have a set form repeated more or less exactly at all funerals, or all funerals of a certain category—though on this point the evidence is often not very precise. There are also instances of songs or poems said to have been composed initially for some other occasion but taken over for regular use at funerals. The Chadwicks speak of elegies in Ethiopia said to have been preserved ‘for several centuries’ and instance the famous and much sung elegy for Saba Gadis (Chadwicks iii, 1940: 517). Another case is the Ibo song originally sung by warriors to their leader Ojea as he lay dying at the moment of victory, but now used as a generalized funeral dirge:
Ojea, noble Ojea, look round before you depart,
Ojea, see, the fight is over;
Fire has consumed the square and then the home,
Ojea, see, the fight is over.
Ojea, Brother Ojea, ponder and look,
Ojea, see, the fight is over;
If rain soaks the body, will the clothes be dry?
Ojea, ah! The fight is over
(Osadebay 1949: 153)
The content of these elegies varies. At times—as in this Ibo example—there is no direct reference to the deceased. But often he is specifically addressed, and praise is one of the most frequent motifs. Among the Yoruba praise poetry is recited or played on drums at funerals as well as on other occasions (Gbadamosi and Beier 1959: 50), and in Akan dirges the singer calls on the deceased by his praise names and lauds his great deeds and ancestry. Occasionally the personal reference or address to the deceased is deepened by more general allusions. This is well illustrated by the Yoruba funeral song from Ede:
I say rise, and you will not rise.
If Olu is told to rise, Olu will rise.
If Awo is told to rise, he will rise.
The newly wedded bride gets up at a bidding,
Although she dares not call her husband by name.
The elephant on waking gets up,
The buffalo on waking gets up,
The elephant lies down like a hill.
Alas! The elephant has fallen,
And can never get up again!
You say you have neither wealth nor children,
Not even forty cowries with which to buy salt.
You muffled head, rise!
(Gbadamosi and Beier 1959: 51)
We also find resignation and acceptance of the inevitable. These are, for instance, mentioned as frequent characteristics of much Sudanese funeral poetry (Tescaroli 1961: 9). Other poems dwell on the personal feelings and experience of the mourner. Ellis quotes from a Yoruba example:
I go to the market; it is crowded. There are many people there, but he is not among them. I wait, but he comes not. Ah me! I am alone
(Ellis 1894: 157).
The same note of personal grief is heard in the Acholi funeral dirge:
I wait on the pathway in vain
He refuses to come again
Only one, beloved of my mother oh,
My brother blows like the wind
Fate has destroyed chief of youth completely
I wait on the pathway in vain
(Okot 1963: 209)
4
or again in an Ngoni lament:
I have stared at the setting (death) of my husband.
They say, show me the pool that has a crocodile.
Let me throw myself away.
What can I do? Alas!
(Read 1937: 16)
We are not, unfortunately, told the details of the occasion on which the much quoted Bushman lament, ‘The broken string’, was composed or performed, but in this too we see that the main concentration is on the singer’s feeling: he is mourning his friend, a magician and rain-maker:
People were those who
Broke for me the string.
Therefore,
The place became like this to me,
On account of it,
Because the string was that which broke for me.
Therefore,
The place does not feel to me,
As the place used to feel to me,
On account of it.
For,
The place feels as if it stood open before me,
Because the string has broken for me.
Therefore
The place does not feel pleasant to me,
On account of it
(Bleek and Lloyd 1911: 237)
The elegies so far discussed have been those specifically connected with funeral rites of various kinds, or, at least, poems or songs mourning the death of some individual. There is also, however, a sense in which elegiac poetry also includes poems that take death or sorrow as their general themes without being connected with funerals or actual mourning. In this sense, elegiac poetry in Africa does not often seem to be a distinctly recognized genre. Although certain dirges (such as those of the Luo or the Akan) are sometimes performed in other contexts and with other purposes, funerals remain their primary and distinctive occasions, and death is merely one—and not apparently a very common one—of the
many subjects that occur in lyric poetry generally. In this sense, then, elegiac poetry does not seem a type that demands extensive discussion here.
The sort of way, however, that the theme of death is occasionally used outside a dirge is worth illustrating from the impressive Ngoni song recorded by Read. This is a very old poem, originally intended for performance at a marriage, but now sung on other occasions (including church meetings). The refrain, ‘the earth does not get fat’, is a reference to the way the earth is always receiving the dead, yet is never satisfied:
The earth does not get fat. It makes an end of those who wear the head plumes [the older men]
We shall die on the earth.
The earth does not get fat. It makes an end of those who act swiftly as heroes.
Shall we die on the earth?
Listen O earth. We shall mourn because of you.
Listen O earth. Shall we all die on the earth?
The earth does not get fat. It makes an end of the chiefs.
Shall we all die on the earth?
The earth does not get fat. It makes an end of the women chiefs.
Shall we die on the earth?
Listen O earth. We shall mourn because of you.
Listen O earth. Shall we all die on the earth?
The earth does not get fat. It makes an end of the nobles.
Shall we die on the earth?
The earth does not get fat. It makes an end of the royal women.
Shall we die on the earth?
Listen O earth. We shall mourn because of you.
Listen O earth. Shall we all die on the earth?
The earth does not get fat. It makes the end of the common people.
Shall we die on the earth?
The earth does not get fat. It makes an end of all the beasts.
Shall we die on the earth?
Listen you who are asleep, who are left tightly closed in the land.
Shall we all sink into the earth?
Listen O earth the sun is setting tightly.
We shall all enter into the earth
(Read 1937: 14–15)
Rather than generalizing further about elegiac poetry or reproducing further isolated examples, it seems best to concentrate on one example, the Akan funeral dirge. From this something of the social context of the form
and its complex conventions will emerge. It will also show how some of the familiar questions of literary criticism can be pursued with profit in the case of oral, as of written, poetry.
3
II
The funeral dirges of the Akan have been intensively studied by Nketia who published his collection and analysis in 1955. Among the Akan-speaking peoples of southern Ghana dirges form just one among their many types of poetry. They are sung or intoned by women as part of the public mourning during funerals. In them ‘speech [is] inlaid with music, sobs and tears and conjoined to bodily movement’ (Nketia 1955: 118). Unlike some of the lyric poetry to be discussed later, however, the emphasis is on the words rather than the music, and the poems are performed by soloists without the accompaniment of either musical instruments or a chorus of supporting singers.
4
Here in introduction are two examples from Nketia’s collection. The first is sung by a woman for her dead son, Gyima (poetically referred to as her ‘grandsire’):
Grandsire Gyima with a slim but generous arm,
Fount of satisfaction,
My friend Adu on whom I depend,
I depend on you for everything, even for drinking water.
If I am not dependent on you [i.e. if there is any doubt that I depend on you], see what has become of me.
Although a man, you are a mother to children,
A man who takes another’s child for his own,
Who builds mighty but empty houses,
Who is restive until he has fought and won, Osibirikuo, Gyane the short one,
Dwentiwaa’s husband, and a man of valour.
(Nketia 1955: 195)
In the second example the mourner is singing about her dead mother:
Grandchild of grandsire Kwaagyei of Hwedeemu that drinks the water of Abono,