Oral Literature in Africa (71 page)

The recognized stylistics in Rundi oratory, marked particularly in the case of the aristocrats, are dignity of bearing and speech, enhanced, on occasion, by effective use of the rhetorical technique of silence. There is also careful attention to stance, gesture, modulation of the voice, and grace and elegance of vocabulary according to the criteria of Rundi culture. The highest ideal of public speaking, in Rundi eyes, is that associated with an
umushingantahe,
a recognized elder and judge. He is expected to be

intelligent, in complete command of the arts of logic, a fine speaker—i.e., he speaks slowly and with dignity, in well-chosen words and figures of speech; he is attentive to all that is said; and he is an able analyst of logic and of the vagaries of the human psyche.

(Albert 1964: 45)

The position of an
umushingantahe
depends both on a prolonged experience of legal cases and on wealth for the expensive initiation party. Others too, however, can use the same type of rhetorical style. It is one considered particularly appropriate in political speeches of advice or persuasion before a superior, or in serious decision-making and problem-solving. On the other hand, rhetorical fireworks are more to be expected when individuals are trying to forward their own interests as litigants in a law case, or in personal petitions to a superior.

A further characteristic of Rundi rhetoric is the premium placed on elegance and appropriateness rather than on literal truth. This has a practical value. It is known that a man is more likely to be able to defend himself on the spot by rapid and plausible falsehood, mixed with a suitable amount of flattery, than by a careful telling of the truth. But there is also an aesthetic aspect—graceful appropriate speech is considered attractive in its own right. Allusiveness, often through figures of speech, is prized in both speech-making and polite social intercourse. Even a slight request may be addressed to a superior with stylized formality and oblique allusion. Thus a petition by a poor man for a trifling gift like a new pair of shoes to replace his worn-out ones is expressed through circumlocution. ‘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!’ By this he indicates his old shoes, so ragged that one is being held together by a safety-pin (the ‘spear’) (Ibid.: 50–1).

It is not only the style and content that are conventionally laid down for Rundi speeches, but in some cases the general setting as well. The rules of precedence are strictly observed, in keeping with a society in which ranked
hierarchy is of such significance. Thus the order in which individuals speak in a group depends on their seniority:

The senior person will speak first; the next in order of rank opens his speech with a statement to the effect, ‘Yes, I agree with the previous speaker, he is correct, he is older and knows best, etc’ Then, depending on circumstances and issues, the second speaker will by degrees or at once express his own views, and these may well be diametrically opposed to those previously expressed. No umbrage is taken, the required formula of acknowledgment of the superior having been used.

(Albert 1964: 41)

The situation of making a formal request is also highly stylized. A special type of bearing is obligatory. If it is a request for a bride or cattle, the normal form is for the petitioner to

assume a formal stance, often standing during delivery of the formal request. His speech has probably been carefully composed in advance. To follow the general formula, one refers to the gift one has brought, usually several pots of banana beer; one expresses love, admiration, and respect for the excellent qualities, real, imagined, and hoped for, of the superior; one expresses the hope that the affection is reciprocated; one again refers to the gift, this time as a token of affection; one promises further gifts in the future; one states one’s wish; one closes with a repetition of the praise of the superior and an expression of hope that the wish will be granted.

(Ibid.: 38)

Much remains to be investigated in relation to Rundi oratory. But it is abundantly clear from Albert’s publications so far that the skills of eloquence were highly valued and sophisticated in traditional Rundi society, and that they present a literary sphere which, though perhaps marginal, is clearly enough related to literature to deserve fuller critical analysis. Such skills were exhibited in their most extreme form in the elegant formal speeches of Rundi aristocrats. But that they were recognized in some degree at all levels of society is evident from the explicit aesthetic interest in these arts; even in their everyday conversation which is ‘near the bottom of the [aesthetic] scale, elegance of composition and delivery, figures of speech, and the interpolation of stories and proverbs are normally called for and employed’. (Ibid.: 49)

A second case where one can observe the significance attached to oratorical ability is that of the Limba people of northern Sierra Leone.
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These are a people with a very different culture from that of the highly stratified Rundi—farmers living in a relatively homogeneous society, without the
marked differences of wealth and birth characteristic of the Rundi state. Their speech-making is correspondingly much less sophisticated and specialized. But they too have their stylized forms of public address, and oratorical ability is regarded as an art as well as a necessity.

To be able to carry out formal speaking pleasingly is one of the first essentials of a Limba local chief and of the sub-chiefs and elders who model themselves on the ideal picture of a chief. There are many occasions when such formal speeches are obligatory. Most important in Limba eyes are the continual law cases. The local chief, assisted by his elders or ‘big men’, must sift the evidence and, after the more junior judges have spoken, must sum up with an eloquent speech which both analyses the complex rights and wrongs of the case and in addition ‘pulls the hearts’ of the litigants to accept his verdict and become reconciled. There are also large gatherings where local or, occasionally, national political issues are debated. In these, the leading elders and men of influence, and, increasingly, the younger men, take it in turn to make long speeches marked by great formality and—very often—repetition. Meetings called to deal with an election to chiefship also give opportunity for the candidates to demonstrate their wisdom and oratorical skill in public. Public and formal speeches are also made to welcome visitors or returning travellers, exhort juniors, negotiate marriage arrangements, acknowledge some piece of news formally delivered, and as well are made during the intervals at dances, at initiations and ceremonies, and as stylized thanks for a visit, a gift, or a transaction. Formal speech-making is the characteristic quality of a Limba chief in his role of reconciling people and thus bringing peace to individuals and to his chiefdom as a whole. But it is also a desired attribute and activity of anyone with any pretentions to authority over others—a father can speak formally among his chilren, a household head between his dependants, a respected senior wife among her co-wives, even an elder boy among his juniors.

Unlike the Rundi, the Limba do not provide any specialist training in rhetoric. It is true that chiefs are sometimes said to be instructed how to ‘speak well’ when, as in the case of a few of their number, they go into several weeks’ seclusion as part of their installation ceremonies. But this represents more the explicit significance attached to oratorical ability than any real attempt at training. In fact all Limba—particularly the men—gradually assimilate the accepted tricks of speaking as they listen to their fathers, the local ‘big men’, and the chiefs officiating and settling disputes on public occasions. The young boys begin by making speeches among their peers at initiation, farming associations, and play. Then as they grow up they gradually try to
speak in more public contexts and (if of the right social background) in legal cases and discussions. Finally they may become, informally but unmistakably, accepted as respected elders, responsible for speaking at the most important gatherings.

The content of formal Limba speeches varies. But sentiments tend to recur. This can be illustrated, for example, in marriage negotiations and legal speeches. To the Limba marriage negotiations are regarded as semi-public transactions. The suitor—represented by a friend—must do far more than just undertake to pay the due bride-wealth and carry out his duties; he must also speak pleasingly to win over the hearts of his future in-laws and impress them with the respect he has for them. The speeches are regarded as something more than mere etiquette by the Limba participating. Rather, they are a form of expression that makes those involved feel pleased and proud and conscious of the deeper meanings in life. The father of the girl too must reply in graceful words and convince his listeners of the sincerity of his appreciation. He thanks the messenger who has come, saying perhaps:

I thank you. I thank you for coming. Greetings for [undergoing] the journey. Greetings for the sun. Greetings for the rain. I, the father of the girl, I have no long words to say. I accept—by grace of the mother who bore the girl. She says that it is pleasing to her. For me too—it is pleasing to me. I accept.

But often the basic content of this is drawn out to very much greater lengths. Other stages in the marriage follow at intervals, each accompanied by similar speeches—of thanks, appreciation, implied undertakings for the future, and tactful moralizing about the nature and obligations of marriage.

In legal speeches the moralizing is often even more explicit as the leaders try to reconcile contenders and soothe angry feelings. Though the litigants themselves state their own cases, their speeches seem to be regarded more as background factual data for the court, whereas the real flowering of oratory is in the speeches of the judges who, one after the other, address the court in turn, finally ending with the senior judge (often the chief) who uses the wisdom given by all (as the Limba put it) to add to the weight of his own final assessment and persuasion. In political speeches too there is a certain amount of moralizing as well as excited rhetoric.

The most elaborate and lengthy of all speeches are the long funeral harangues given on the occasion of memorial rites for some important man several years after his death. This is one of the most important events in Limba social life, and hundreds of people gather from many miles around. One of the highlights is the speeches made by the leading men; they speak
in turn, often going on for several hours, and their words are relayed, half-intoned sentence by sentence, by a herald who is specially engaged for the occasion. These orations are even more full of moralizing than the legal and family speeches. They dwell relatively little on the character of the dead man, and instead reflect on the importance of the dead, the duties of the living, the function in life of the various groups listening to them, and the general philosophy and ideals which, they presume, they and their listeners share. A small portion of one of these speeches, this time on the subject of mutual interdependence and the dangers of pride, ran something as follows, with each sentence punctuated by a pause:
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If someone has the reputation of being proud—then leave him alone. He is someone who dislikes taking anything from others. He is always working hard—for himself. [Similarly] if you know a child who does not pay attention to his parents—does not pay attention to his chief—does not pay attention to his mother-in-law
⁶
—then people will never appoint him as chief, he is not good. God will help the man who shows respect to the chief [i.e. authority]. With some young people, when they are asked about their behaviour, they just say: ‘Oh, I took presents to my wife’s mother, but now I’m tired of giving her things.’ Even if someone is a son of a chief, if he doesn’t care to work, care for his parents, for his mother-in-law—he mustn’t think, even if he is a chief’s son, that he will ever be made a chief ….

If someone works hard, perhaps he will gain power. And if a powerful man opens his hands [i.e. gives gifts freely], then he has gained something. But if he does not give, then his possessions are worthless. Blessings come from children, from the dead people [ancestors], from God. But no one can win a reputation without working for it …. If God says goodbye to someone then he shows him the road he must walk on.
⁷
If you are appointed [to a position of authority] you must not say that because you have been appointed you need not do anything; you must not say that you won’t feed [i.e. give gifts to] the people who are working for you. If you do that, things won’t grow well [prosper]. Let no one think that he is a big man, more than his companions. It is for others to say if you are a big man. You must think well of your companions ….

There are recognized conventions about the diction, phraseology, and form of Limba speeches, although these conventions are not very explicitly stated. Gestures are much used: elders in particular stride about in the
centre of the listening group, making much play with their long, full-sleeved gowns, alternating for effect between solemn stance and excited delivery when the whole body may be used to emphasize a point. They are masters of variations in volume and speed: they can switch from quiet, even plaintive utterance to loud yelling and fierce (assumed) anger, only to break off abruptly with some humorous or ironic comment, an effective silence, or a moving personal appeal. Among the best legal speakers figures of speech are common, as well as proverbs, allusions, and rhetorical questions. These men are admired for their ability to express their points by ‘going a long way round in parables’. There are also many stock formulas that it is considered both correct and attractive to use in Limba speeches; in addition to the set phrases which introduce and close a formal speech, the speaker’s words also regularly include an appeal to what the ‘old people’ did, references to what
Kanu
(God) does or does not like (a convenient channel for moralizing of which some Limba take frequent, even tedious, advantage), personal appeals to members of the audience, and the frequent conventional expression of humility through referring to the grace of those present, of superiors, and of the ancestors. A good speaker, furthermore, makes sure of the participation of the audience in a way analogous to story-telling; he expects murmurs of support and agreement, muttered rejoinders of his rhetorical questions, laughter when he purposely brings in something amusing or exaggerated, and thanks and acknowledgement when he has ended.