Jackson 1989 - Paths Toward A Clearing PDF

PATHS TOWARD A
CLEARING
African Systems of Thought
General Eitors
Charles S. Bird
Ivan Karp
Contributing Eitors
Thomas 0. Seidelman
James W. Ferandez
Luc de Heusch
John Middleton
Roy Willis
/i1C iLV/ /
LL/I\
Radical Empiricism and
Ethnographic Inquiry
MICHAEL JACKSON
INDIANA UNIVERSITY PRESS
Bloomington and Indianpolis
r989 by Michael Jackson
All rights reserved
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Manufactured in the United States of America
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Jackson, Michael
Paths toward a clearing : radical empiricism and ethnographic
inquiry I Michael Jackson.
p. er. - (Afican systems of thought)
Bibliography: p.
Includes index.
ISBN o253-3319oo. -ISBN o253-20534-4 (pbk.)
r. Kuranko (African people) 2. Ethnology-Philosophy.
3 Ethnophilosophy. 4 Knowledge, Theory of. I. Title.
II. Series.
DT5r6.45K85l3 1989
306'.089963-dcr9
It is difhcu|t not to noticc a curious unrcst in thc phi|o-
sophic atmosphcrc of thc timc, a |ooscning of o|d |and-
marks, asoftcningofoppositions, amutua|borrowingfrom
onc anothcr on thc part of systcms ancicnt|y c|oscd, and
an intcrcstinncwsuggcstions , howcvcrvaguc, asifthconc
thing surc wcrc thc inadcquacy of thc cxtant schoo|-
so|utions. Jhcdissatisfactionwiththcsc sccmsducfor thc
most part to a fcc| ing that thcy arc too abstract and aca-
dcmic. Lifc is conmscd and supcrabundant, and what thc
youngcrgcncrationappcarstocravcismorcofthctcmpcra-
mcntof|ifc initsphi|osophy, cvcnthoitwcrcatsomccost
of |ogica| rigor and offorma| purity.
-Wi||iam|amcs t y. z t , origina||y pub|ishcd i oq)
CONTENTS
Prefae ix
ONE Introduction I
TWO Two Lives 19
THREE Ajala's Heads
Thrownness and Free Will in
African Thought 36
FOUR How to Do Things with Stones 51
FIVE The Identity of the Dead 67
SIX The Witch as a Category and as a Person 88
SEVEN The Man Who Could Tum into an Elephant 102
EIGHT Knowledge of the Body I 19
NINE Thinking through the Body 137
TEN The Migration of a Name
Alexander in Africa 156
ELEVEN On Ethnographic Truth 170
Notes 189
Bibliogaphy 218
Inx 233
Preface
^|though studicd anthropo|ogy as an undcrgraduatc, many ycars passcd and I
travc|cd a |ong way bcforc my intcrcst in thc subj cct camc fu||y into focus. Jhc
tuming point was t q, whcn was a vo|untccr community dcvc|opmcnt workcr
with thc Lnitcd lations Lpcration in thc Longo now Lairc) . Jhc country was
in thc throcs of a widcsprcad rcbc||ion, and onc of thc fcw untroub|cd p|accs I
kncw wsacohccp|antationonthcLu|uaKivcrinKasai. Jhcp|antationhadbccn
abandoncdbyitsbc|gianowncrstwoycarsbcforcandbroughtbackintoproduction
by a group of ranciscans , working with young Longo|csc mcn, many of whom
had |ost thcir homcs and fami |ics in thc hghting that had brought thc scccssion
ofKasai to an cnd.
5omctimcs at night I wou|d go down to thc rivcr to watch thc hippos comc
ashorctobrowsc. Jhcgrass|andg|ittcrcdwiththc|ightofhrcics, asifcntircga|ax-
icshaddisintcgratcdandfa||cnfrom thc sky. Lthcrcvcnings | istcncdwithgrow-
ingfascinationto a bcnaLu|uaboywhocxp|aincdto mc thcmcaningofhisinitia-
tion scars, thcpurposc ofthcstatucttcs ' dsccn among thcmanioc, orthckao|in
with which moumingwomcn covcrcd thcir faccs. Lr rcad a dog-carcd copy of
Les structures elmentaires de I parent ' d found in a bookcasc in thc main housc,
my imagination capturcdby thc idca that bcncath thc cmpirica|divcrsity ofsocia|
|ifc |ay univcrsa| structuringprincip|csofrcciprocity and cxchangc. In this sccm-
ing|yc|oscdunivcrscofc|cmcntary structurcsthcrcwas, howcvcr, Lcvi -5traussob-
scrvcd, "a|ways somc frccdom ofchoicc" t a. xxiii ) .
It was i nthis dua| qucst for univcrsa| "|aws of thc mind" and "thc cxigcncics
ofsocia| |ifc, " thisdia|ccticofgivcnncssandchoicc, that rcdiscovcrcd thc a||urc
and paradoxofanthropo|ogy. r, as thc anthropo|ogist strugg|cs to transccnd his
or hcr particu|ar cu|tura| background and hc|d cxpcricnccs in ordcr to arrivc at
gcncra| truths , hc or shc is caught in a bind which is both cpistcmo|ogica| and
po|itica| bccausc thc assumption of a dctachcd or univcrsa| vicw cntai|s thc prc-
sumption of cu|tura| and intc||cctua| privi|cgc Hcr:fc|d t Uy ) . t is thc samc
di|cmma which opprcsscs Wcstcm intc||cctua|s who, whi|c pursuing thc humanist
aim ofcstab|ishing thc cqua|ity of a|| pcop|c, arc thcmsc|vcs |ivingproofthat a||
pcop|c arc not cqua| , sincc thcirknow|cdgc, abi|itics, and backgrounds arca|ways
particu|ar and privi|cgcd 5artrc t U. z-qo) .
Jhc burdcn of this book is how onc might adopt a univcrsa| istic standpoint
without imp|ying spccia| c|aims cithcr for thc "truth" of onc's vicw or thc status
ofoncsc|f.
^s in thc work of Vico, Jy|or, Morgan, bastian, Mauss, and Ourkhci m, thc
scarchforunivcrsa| cu|tura|pattcmshasa|waysbccnconstitutivcofthc anthropo-
|ogica| proj cct, and protcsts such as thatofboasagainstc|oscddcsigns and invari-
ant pattcms havc bccn |o||owcd by pcriodsofrcncwcd intcrcst in what Wo|fca||s
"thc cnduringfcaturcs of thc humanpsychcand socia|ity" t q. zo) . lotions of
X Prefae
univcrsa| |inguistic forms , biogcnctic stncturcs, basic nccds, mora| and dcvc|op-
mcnta|pattcms havc a||cnj oycd thcirvoguc. butmanyanthropo|ogistshavcgonc
about thcir task of tota|i:ing cross-cu|tura| comparison as though it wcrc un-
prob|cmatic. Mcthodo|ogica||y, it is oftcn imp|icd that anthropo|ogy grants us
a mcansoftransccndingourowncu|tura|circumstanccsandcntcringcmpathica||y
into thc |ivcs ofothcrs. Ifthcrc arc obstac|cs to attaining this goa| thcy arc, onc
gathcrs, tcchnica| rathcr than tcmpcramcnta| , mattcrs of |anguagc and |ogistics
rathcr than ofcpistcmo|ogy. With somc notab|ccxccptions Ocvcrcux t y, a-
bian i U, Hcr:fc|d t Uy, 5aid t yU) , fcw anthropo|ogists rccct dccp|y on thc
contradiction bctwccn thc prcsumcd cocva|ncss that pcrmits an cthnographcr to
havc an undcrstandingofthc pcop|c hc orshc |ivcs with and thc imagcsofradica|
othcmcss that pcrvadc much cthnographic writing, whcrc "shamc" cu|turcs arc
contrastcd with "gui|t" cu|turcs Hcr:fc|d t Uy. t-zy) , "mortuary ritua|s" arc sc-
mantica||yscgrcgatcdfrom "funcra|s" Oanforth t Uz. -y ) , andcxotic|abc|ssuch
as"witchcraft , " "sorccry, " and"totcmism"crcatcan imprcssionthatthey arcuttcr|y
un|ikcu Lcvi-5trauss t b) . Jo whatcxtcntdoanthropo|ogistsunwitting|yabct
thc distorting tcndcncics of thc popu|ar mcdia, whcrc Jhird Wor|d pcop|cs arc
typccast as po|itica| rcfugccs and faminc victims, dchncd in tcrms ofthc absence
offrccdom, as lcking in cconomic rationa|ity, wanting in rcsourccs , i||itcratc, im-
povcrishcd, undcmourishcd rcirc t yz. z t -z) ' 5ccn as historica||y pcriphcra| ,
thcy bccomc for us ncgations ofoursc|vcs and nccdfu| ofwhat wc havc. 5pcctcrs
ofthc not-sc|forobj cctsofour compassion, it makcs |itt|cdihcrcncc. Jhcirvoiccs
go unhcard, thcircustomsdcridcd, thcir cxpcricnccs maskcd, so that "humanip"
itsc|fsccms to bc|ong on|y to thcpowc 1| andrich.
In this book I focus oncxpcricnccswhich cthnographcrs havc incommonwi th
thc pcop|c thcy study, and I try to scc how thc anthropo|ogica| proj cct may bc
morc than thc inadvcrtcnt or uncritica| proj cction of "our" conccms a :d nccds
onto "thcm. " ^ccording|y, I cmphasi:c thc participatory sidc ofhc|dwork, thc rc-
f|cctivcdimcnsion in thcori:ing, andthc dia|ccticbctwccnthcknow|cdgcwc con-
struct ofothcrs and thc know|cdgc thcy construct ofthcmsc|vcs and ofus.
Jhc thcorctica| idcas which inform this work arc drawnfrom thc cxistcntia|ist
and pragmatist traditions. but whi|c my intcrcst |ics in thc kind of mctacu|tura|
undcrstandingthat5artrcand Mcr|cau-ontysought, thisshou|dnotbcconstrucd
as a scarch for thc essence of human bcing but for ways of opcning up dia|oguc
bctwccn pcop|c from dihcrcnt cu|turcs or traditions, ways of bnging into being
modcs of undcrstanding which chcctivc|y go bcyond thc intc||cctua| convcntions
and po| itica| idco|ogics that circumscribc us a||.
Jwcnty-onc ycars scparatc thc rcd roads ofLairc, whcrc I hrst chosc my intc| -
|cctua| path, and thc |atcritc roads ofnorthcast 5icrra Lconc towhich I rctumcd
in t Uformyhfthstint ofhc|dwork among thc Kuranko. I wish to acknow|cdgc
my gratitudc to thc Wcnncr-Crcn undation for ^nthropo|ogica| Kcscarch and
thc ûstra|ian Kcscarch Crants Lommittcc for mnding my t U rcscarch and to
rofcssorKogcrKccsingandhisco||cagucs inthc ^nthropo|ogy Ocpartmcntatthc
ûstra| ianMationa|Lnivcrsityforgrantingmctwo summcrfc||owships t U-Uy ,
Prefae XI
i Uy-UU) , intcrva|s of comparativc sccurity during a thrcc-ycar pcri 5d of uncm-
p|oymcnt.
I dcdicatc this book to fricnds and fami|y-Jom bcidc|man, Voj cicch Oa-
browski , Kcnc Ocvisch, Kathy Co|ski , Kanaj it and Mcchti|dc Cuha, Christinc
Hc||iwc| | , Michac|Hcrtfc|d, Lmi|y and O' arcy|ackson, Hcidi|ackson, Ivan Karp,
Ooug|asLcwi s, rancinc Lorimcr, |udithLovcridgc, 5cwaandKoscMarah, |a iran
Mimica, brian Mocran, Kcith Kid|cr, Jim 5trong, bob and Myma Jonkinson,
^nita |acobson-Vidding, Michac| 1oung-"so that thc path docs not dic" ( kil
k n faga) .
PATHS TOWARD A
CLEARING
ONE
Introduction
Jhis book is a brcak in a j oumcy-to takc stock, to gct my bcarings, to survcy
thc ground I havc covcrcd and thc ground I havc yct to cross. My anccstors, thc
Kurankowou|dsay, havc"goncahcad". ^domo, Ocvcrcux, Ocwcy, oucau|t, Hci-
dcggcr, Mcr|cau-onty, 5artrc, Jumcr. Jhcy havc b|a:cd trai|s. but wc a|| must
hndourownwayacross thcbrokcn|andscapc, andbytria|andcrrorhndthcpaths
foroursc|vcs.
My novc| Brawa, an th Ways Birds Fly in the Sky t U) was a point ofno
rctum, and ofdiscnchantmcnt. It cnds at thc cdgc of thc sca. an cthnographcr,
unsurc ofhis dircction and idcntity, wa|kinga|ongthc tidc-|inc, |ookingdownat
a h|mofwatcr thatrcf|ccts"pa|c gray c|ouds in a cocoa-co|ourcd sky. " Jhc imagc
was mcant to ccho thc c|osc of Michc| ucau|t's The Ordr of Things, an imagc
of man rctumcd "to that scrcnc non-cxistcncc in which hc was formcr|y main-
taincd by thc i mpcrious unity of Oiscoursc, " crascd "|ikc a facc drawn in sand at
thc cdgc of thc sca" oucau|t t yo. U, Uy) . by grounding my narrativc in thc
history of a p|acc rathcrthan thc |ifc ofany onc pcrson, I a|so hopcd to ccho a
vicw which thc Kuranko might casi|yho|d, ofthc subj cct as a "singu|arity" inthc
scnsc in whichastronomcrsusc thc tcrm. a point in spacc and timcwhcrc cxpcri-
cncc is had, whcrc thc wor|d happcns upon itsc|f, a p|acc ofintcrscction Lcvi -
5trauss t U t . z-z) .
butwhi|cI agrccwithbothoucau|tandLcvi-5traussincschcwinganynotion
ofthc individua|subj cct asthc primary sourccand hna| arbitcrofourundcrstand-
ing, I do not want to risk disso|ving thc | ivcd exerene of thc subj cct into thc
anonymous hc|d ofdiscoursc, a||owing Lpistcmc or Languagc or Mind to takc on
thc cpistcmo|ogica| privi|cgcs dcnicd to consciousncss and subj cctivity. 1 In my
vicw, notions such as Lu|turc, laturc, Languagc, and Mind arc to bc rcgardcd
as instrumcnta|itics , not hna|itics. Jogcthcrwith too|s, physica| ski||s, andpracti-
ca| know|cdgc, thcy bc|ong to a wor|d whosc hori:ons arc opcn, thc quotidian
wor|d in which wc |ivc, adj usting our nccds to thc nccds of othcrs, tcsting our
idcasagainstthc cxigcncicsof|ifc. Lonccptsdonottransccnd this|ifc-wor|d, mir-
roring its csscncc or rcvca|ing its undcr|ying |aws. Jhcycannot gct us abovc or
outsidc cxpcricncc, on|y movc us from onc domain to anothcr, making conncc-
tions. Jhought is |ikc a path, says Hcidcggcr, a way into and through thc wor|d,
a movcmcnttoward a c|caring. Jhought isnotawayout, anda phi|osophywhich
abstracts, "which sccks to c|cvatc itsc|f abovc thc cvcrydayncss of thc cvcryday,
is cmpty" 5tcincr t yU. U t ) .
2 pATHS TOWARD A CLEARING
In thiskindofLebensphilosophie, thc subj cctmusthgurc, cvcn ifon|yasa ncc-
cssar , momcnt in thc passagc of obj cctivity toward obj cctivity, thc point whcrc
prccxistcnt wor|ds cntcr our cxpcricncc and arc madc ovcrby us to othcrs 5artrc
i U y) but wc havc to go furthcr, bccausc human praxis docs morc than con-
scr .c thc situation from whcncc it ariscs, it surasses it. "or us, " 5artrc obscrvcs,
"man is charactcri:cd abovc a|| by his going bcyond a situation, andby whathc
succccds inmakingofwhathchasbccnmadc-cvcnifhcncvcrrccogni:cshimsc|f
in his obj cctihcation" t ) . ^domo makcs a simi|ar point. raxi s, hc notcs, "is
charactcri:cd abovc a|| by thc fact that thc qua|itativc|y ncw appcars in it . . . it
isamovcmcntwhichdocsnotrunitscoursc inpurc idcntity, thcpurcrcproduction
ofsuch as a|rcady was thcrc" buck-Morss i yy. q) .
It i s bccausc |ivcd cxpcricncc i s ncvcr idcntica| with thc conccpts wcusc to
grasp and rcprcscnt it that I want to insist, a|ong with 5artrc and ^domo, on its
dia|cctica| irrcducibi|ity.
Making |ivcd cxpcricncc thcstartingpoint in this book

shou|d not, howcvcr, bc takcn to mcan that I am according any cpistcmo|ogica|
privi|cgcs or any particu|ar onto|ogica| status to thc cxpcricncingsubject. It is thc
charactcr of|ivcd cxpcricncc I want to cxp|orc, not thc naturc ofman.
L I V L O L X L K I L lLL ^l O K ^ OI L^ L
L M I K I L I 5 M
Livcd cxpcricncc ovcrf|ows thc boundarics of any onc conccpt, any onc pcrson,
or any onc socicty. ^s such, itbringsus to a dia|cctica|vicwof| ifc whichcmpha-
si:csthcintcrp|ayrathcrthnthc idcntityofthings, whichdcnicsanysurcstcading
to thoughtbyp|acing ita|wayswithinthcprccariousanddcstabi| i:inghc|dsofhis-
tory, biography, and timc. Indccd, by forcing upon our attcntion thc unrcpcat-
abi|ity ofcvcnts, dia|cctica| thou ht cntai|swhat Wt|tcr bcnj amin ca||cd"astub-
bom subvcrsivc protcst against thc typica| , thc c|assihab|c" ^rcndt i U. q) . It
rcmainsskcptica|ofa||chortstorcduccthcd vcrsityofcxpcricncctotimc|csscatc-
gorics and dctcrminatc thcorcms, to forcc | ifc to bc at thc disposa| ofidcas.3
Oia|cctic phi |osophy, howcvcr, runs thc risk offctishi:ing thought as an act
of rcsistancc to idcntity, conc|usivcncss, and c|osurc. or this rcason, I want to
strcss that |ivcd cxpcricncc cncompasscs both thc "ragcforordc " and thc impu|sc
that drivcs us to unsctt|c or confound thc hxcd ordcr ofthings. Livcd cxpcricncc
accommodatcs ourshiftingscnsc ofoursc|vcs as subj ccts and as obj ccts , as acting
upon and bcing actcd upon by thc wor|d, of |iving with and without ccrtainty,
ofbc|ongingandbcingcstrangcd, yet resists aresting any one of these mods of exeri
ence in ord er to mk it foundationl to a theory of knowldge.
5uch an a||-cncompassing conccption of cxpcricncc avoids narrowing down
thc hc|d of cxpcricncc to either thc subj cct or thc obj cct, thcory or practicc, thc
socia|or thc individua| , thoughtor fcc|ing, formor f|ux. hrascd inthisway, how-
cvcr, such a conccption ofcxpcricncc is too gcncra| to bc uscm| . L|car|y, it must
bcgroundcdsomchowinthcactua|cvcnts, obj ccts, andintcrpcrsona|rc|ationships
thatmakc up thc quotidianwor|d. but thisrcquircsappositcmctaphors, particu|ar
groundru|cs, anddiscursivctcchniqucs. Iwanttoca||thisrathcradhocmcthodo|-
Intrdution 3
ogy and discursivc sty|craical empiricism, a tcrm Wi||iam|amcs coincd to cmpha-
si:c that cxpcricncc inc|udcs "transitivc" as wc|| as "substantivc" c|cmcnts, con-
j unctions as wc|| as disj unctions, and to cncouragc us to rccovcr a |ost scnsc of
thc immcdiatc, activc, ambiguous "p|cnum of cxistcncc" in which a|| idcas ani
intc||cctua| constructions arc groundcd |amcs t y, Ldic t ) .
J H L L X L K I L l L L L 5 L L ^l O LJH L K
Kadica| cmpiricism is hrst and forcmost "a phi|osophy of thc experience ofobjccts
and actions in which the subject itself is a participant" Ldic t .t t ) . 4 Jhis imp|ics
that thcrc is no constant, substantivc "sc|f" which canaddrcssconstant, substan-
tivc"othcrs"asobj cctsofknow|cdgc. Wc arc continua||ybcingchangcdbyaswc||
as changing thc cxpcricncc of othcrs. "Lur hc|ds of cxpcricncc, " writcs |amcs,
"havc no morc dchnitc boundarics than havc our hc|ds ofvicw. both arc hingcd
forcvcr by a more that continuous|y dcvc|ops, and that continuous|y supcrscdcs
thcm as |ifc procccds" |amcs t y. ) . Jhc "sc|f" cannot, thcrcforc, bc trcatcd
as a thingamong things, it is afunctionofour invo|vcmcnt with othcrs ina wor|d
ofdivcrsc and cvcr-a|tcring intcrcsts and situations.
Jhc importancc ofthis vicw for anthropo|ogy is that it strcsscs thc cthnogra-
phcr's interaction with thosc hc or shc |ivcs with and studics, whi|c urging us to
c|ari thc ways in which our know|cdgc is groundcd in our practica| , pcrsona| ,
and participatory cxpcricncc i n thc hc|d as much as our dctachcd obs :rvations.
Ln| ikc traditiona| cmpiricism, which draws a dchnitc boundary bctwccn obscrvcr
and obscrvcd, bctwccn mcthod and obj cct, radica| cmpiricism dcnics thc va|i iity
ofsuch cuts andmakcsthc interlay bctwccn thcsc domainsthcfocusofits intcrcst.
Jhis is thc samc focus as in quantum mcchanics. It is thc interaction ofobscrvcr
andobscrvcdwhich iscrucia|. Jhcphysicistparticipatcs inthcrca|ityundcrinvcs-
tigation, his or hcr mcthods a|tcr and cvcn constitutc it. ^s Wcmcr Hciscnbcrg
puts it, "Wc can no |ongcr spcak of thc bchaviour of thc partic|c indcpcndcnt|y
ofthc proccss ofobscrvation. ^s a hna| conscqucncc, thc natura| |awsformu|atc i
mathcmatica||y in quantum thcory no |ongcr dca| with thc c|cmcntary partic|cs
thcmsc|vcs but with our knowledge of them" Hciscnbcrg t U. z, cmphasisaddcd) .
Whi|c obscrvation in physica| scicncc is onc-way, and thc rc|ationship bc-
twccnobscrvcrand obscrvcd asymmctrica|, anthropo|ogy invo|vcsreciprocal activ-
ity and incrcxpcricncc Ocvcrcux t y. t U- t ) . Jhis makcs thc rc|ationship bc-
twccnknowcrandknowninhnitc|ymorccomp|icatcd. Indccd, givcnthcarduous
conditionsofhc|dwork, thc ambiguity ofconvcrsations in a forcigntonguc, dihcr-
cnccsoftcmpcramcnt, agc, andgcndcrbctwccnoursc|vcsandourinformants, and
thc changing thcorctica|modc|swc arc hcir to, itis |ikc|y that"obj cctivity"scrvcs
morc asamagica|tokcn, bo|stcringourscnscofsc|findisoricntingsi tuations, than
as a scicntihcmcthodfor dcscribingthoscsituations as thcyrca||yarc. Jhcordcr|y
systcmsanddctcrminatcstructurcswcdcscribcarcnotmirrorimagcsofsocia| rca|-
ity so much as dcfcnscs wc bui|dagainstthc unsystcmatic, unstructurcdnaturcof
our experiences within that rca|ity.5 Jhcorctica| schcmcs and thc ncutra| , impcr-
sona| idioms wc usc in ta|kingaboutthcm givc usrcspitcfrom thc unmanagcab|c
4 PATHS TOWARD A CLEARING
uxof|ivcdcxpcricncc, hc|pinguscrcatc i||usoryword-wor|dswhichwccanmorc
casi|y managc bccausc thcyarc cutohhom thc strcamof| ifc. In this scnsc, obj cc-
tivity bccomcs a synonym for cstrangcmcnt andncutra|ity a cuphcmismfor indif-
fcrcncc.
Lur habit ofcxc|uding thc |ivcd cxpcricncc ofthc obscrvcr from thc hc|d of
thc obscrvcd on thc grounds that it is a "rcgcttab|c disturbancc" is, as Ccorgc
Ocvcrcuxshows, astratagcmfora||cviatinganxicty, notaru|cofscicntihcmcthod.
^ radica|| j cmpirica| mcthod inlus thc cxpcricncc ofthc obscrvcr and dchncs
thc cxpcrimcnta| hc|d as onc of intcractions and intcrsubj cctivity. ^ccording|y,
wc makc oursc|vcscxpcrimcnta|subj cctsandtrcatourcxpcricnccsasprimarydata.
Lxpcricncc, in this scnsc, bccomcs a modc ofcxpcrimcntation, oftcstingandcx-
p|oringthcwaysinwhichourcxpcricnccsconj oinorconncctuswithothcrs, rathcr
than thc ways thcy sct us apart.6 In this proccss wc put oursc|vcs on thc | inc,
wc run thc risk ofhaving our scnsc of oursc|vcs as dihcrcnt and distanccd from
thc pcop|c wc study disso|vc, and with it a|| our prctcnsions to a supracmpir|ca|
position, a know|cdgc that gcts us abovc and bcyond thc tcmpora| ity of human
cxistcncc. ^s for our comparativc mcthod, it bccomcs |css a mattcr of hnding
"obj cctivc" simi|aritics and dihcrcnccs bctwccn othcr cu|turcs than of cxp|oring
si mi|ariticsanddihcrcnccsbctwccnourowncxpcricncc andthccxpcricnccofoth-
crs. Jhi s, ofcoursc, dcmandsthcprcscncc, not thc abscncc, ofthc cthnographcr.
^ rcmarkab|c cxamp|c ofthisapproach is Kcnato Kosa|do' s cssay on I| |ongot
hcadhunting. It is worth quoting at |cngth.
If you ask an older lllongot man of norther Luzon, Philippines, why he cuts of human
heads, his answer is a one-liner on which no anthropologist can really elaborate: he
says that rage, bor of grief, impells him to kill his fellow human beings. The act of
severing and tossing away the victim's head enables him, he says, to vent and hopefully
throw away the anger of his bereavement. The job of cultural analysis, then, is to make
this man's statement plausible and comprehensible. Yet frther questioning reveals
that he has little more to say about the connections between bereavement, rage, and
headhunting, connections that seem so powerful to him as to be self-evident beyond
explication. Ei ther you understand it or you don' t. And, in fact, for the longest time
I simply did not.
It was not until some 14 years after frst recording this simple statement about grief
and a headhunter's rage that I began to grasp its overwhelming force. Fr years I had
thought that more verbal elaboration ( which was not forthcoming) or another analyti
cal level (which remained elusive) could better explain the kinds of things these older
men, when enraged by grief, can do to their fellow human beings. It wa not until I
wa repositioned thrugh lived exerience that I became better able to grasp that lllongot
older men mean precisely what they say when they describe the anger in bereavement
as the source of their desire to cut of human heads. (Rosaldo 1 984: 1 78-79, emphasis
added)
Jhc"|ivcdcxpcricncc"towhichKosa|dorcfcrswashiswifc'sdcathinnorthcm
Lutonin t U t . Jhroughhisowncxpcricnccofbcrcavcmcnthccamctoundcrstand
"thc ragc that can comc with dcvastating |oss" t Uo) . bforc this crisis, Kosa|do
Intoduton 5
had tcndcd to dismiss I ||ongot accountsofwhy thcy huntcdhcads "as too simp|c,
thin, opaquc, imp|ausib|c, stcrcotypic, or othcrisc unsatising" t y) . His at-
tcmpts at ana|ysis cmphasi:cdnotionsofrctribution, payback, cxchangc, andba|-
ancing a |cdgcr, mctaphors dcrivcd from his own cu|turc which widcncd rathcr
than c|oscd thc gap bctwccn his cxpcricncc and thc cxpcricncc of thc I ||ongot.
^ftcr |iving through bcrcavcmcnt himsc|f, Kosa|do saw things in a ncw |ight and
bcgan to pcrccivc conncctions bctwccn I ||ongot cxpcricncc and his own-thc
grounds ofa common humanity.
5uch a phcnomcno|ogica|pcrspcctivc isnot, howcvcr, without its risks. "Ln-
sympathctic rcadcrs , " Kosa|donotcs, "cou|drcducc jmy| papcrto an actofmoum-
ing or to a rcport on a pcrsona| discovcry of thc angcr possib|c in bcrcavcmcnt"
t U) . but Kosa|do's cssay docs farmorc than this. It dcmonstratcs thc va|uc of
studying ahcctandwi||as wc|| asthoughtandshowshowourundcrstandinga|ways
cmcrgcsoutofour intcractions and cxpcricnccs withothcrs in thc cvcrydaywor|d.
"most anthropo|ogists writc about dcath as ifthcy wcrc positioncd as uninvo|vcd
spcctators who havc no |ivcd cxpcricncc that cou|d providc know|cdgc about thc
cu|tura| forcc ofcmotions" t ) .
Jhisapproachtosocia|| ifc, bcginningnotwithcxtcma|socia|pattcmingsbut
with thc "pcrsona| and ahcctivc |ifc" and how it is "actua|i:cd in and ordcrs thc
shapcs ofsocia| action ovcr timc" a|so charactcri:cs Michc||c Kosa|do's rcnowncd
study ofthc I||ongot t Uo. zo) . Michc||c Kosa|do, howcvcr, cmphasi:cs thc ways
in which thc I ||ongot notion ofangcr ( !iget) "bc|ongs to a uniquc scmantic hc|d"
whichdocsnotpara||c|thcLng|ishwordang incvcryrcspcct t Uo. zz, zz t -zz) .
loncthc|css, i t i s acknow|cdgcd that liget and anger, though connoting cu|tura||y
divcrgcnt mcanings and contcxts of usc, ovcr|ap at ccrtain points, a||owing thc
Luropcancthnographcrpurchasconthc I ||ongotwor|d. Jhcpointis thatthctcrm
liget isuscd inmanykindsofsituations, somcofwhichwcwou|dhndstrangc, oth-
crs ofwhich wc cou|d rcadi|y idcnti with zy-zU, q-qy for cxamp|cs) .
Kcnato Kosa|do's cssay rcminds us ofthc continuity ofcxpcricncc across cu|-
turcsandthroughtimc, thcpsychicunityofourspccics, thcforccofwhatWi || iam
|amcs ca||cd "conj unctivc rc|ations, " which makc i t possib|c for us to rcach into
cxpcricnccs as sccming|y a| icn as hcadhunting. Jhis cmphasis on conncctcdncss
gocs against thc grain oftraditiona| cmpiricism, which assumcs that thc knowcr
and thc known inhabit disconncctcd wor|ds and rcgards cxpcricncc as somcthing
passivc|yrcccivcd rathcr than activc|y madc, somcthing that imprcsscs itsc|fupon
our b|ank minds or ovcrcomcs us |ikc s|ccp |amcs t y. z t-zy, Ocwcy t o. Uo,
5chrag t . U) . Kosa|do's cssay a|so brings ho ic to us thc cxtcnt to which our
thought is mctaphorica| and our choiccs ofmctaphor part|y dctcrminativc ofthc
kind ofundcrstanding wc rcach.
5 L l 5 L 5 L Ll OL K5 J^l OI lC
Kadica| cmpiricism sccks to grasp thc ways in which idcas and words arc wcddcd
to thc wor|d in whichwc | ivc, how thcyarcgroundcd in thc mundanccvcnts and
cxpcricnccsofcvcryday| ifc. Itfo||owsthcdictumofWi||iamLar|osWi||iams. "lo
idcas I but in things . " It is not on|y thc idcasand words ofothcrs that wc subj cct
to this scrutiny, but a|so ourown. Itisthusfascinatingandpcrtincnt to notc how
thc scparation ofsubj cct and obj cct in traditiona| cmpiricism is in |argc mcasurc
a mnction ofthc scnsory modc and mctaphor it privi|cgcs. vision.
In formu|ating thc cmpiricist canons of modcm socia| scicncc, |ohn Lockc
wrotc "Jhc pcrccption ofthc mind is most apt|y cxp|aincd by words rc|ating to
thcsight" quotcdinabian t U. t oU) . 7 Jhusthcp|cthoraoftcrmsinourWcstcm
cpistcmo|ogica| vocabu|ary whichcvokc thc notionofknow|cdgcassccing ( cidos,
cidctic, idca, idcation, intuition, thcory, thcori:c) orrcfcr toopticsasa mctaphor
ofundcrstandingrccct, spccu|atc, focus, vicw, inspcct, insight, out|ook, pcrspcc-
tivc) Ldic t . z, t y. q) .
Jhis visua|ist bias has thc chcct ofdistancing thc subj cct from thc obj cct, of
sccing thcm as discontinuous cntitics. |ohn Ocwcy cxp|ains thc proccss.
The theory of knowing is modeled after what was supposed to take place in the act
of vision. The object refracts light to the eye and is seen; it makes a diference to
the eye and to the person having an optical apparatus, but none to the thing seen.
The real obj ect is the object so fxed in its regal aloofess that it is a king to any behold
ing mind that may gaze upon it. A spectator theory of knowledge is the inevitable
outcome. ( 1 980: 23)
"Visua|ism, " touscabian's tcrm, a|soimp|icsa spatialization ofconsciousncss
in which knowcr and known arc |ocatcdat scvcra| rcmovcsfrom onc anothcrand
rcgardcd as csscntia||y una|ikc, thc onc an impartia| spcctator, thc othcr subj cct
to hisga:c bourdicu t yy. t , Jumcr t U. t yU) . r thisrcason, "visua|ism" isdc-
humani:ing, it dcnics cocva|ncss abian t U :oU) . It runs countcr to Jcrcncc' s
grcat maxim Homo sum: humni nil a me alien : puto I am human, andnothing
human is a|icn to mc) .
Jhc a| cnatingchcctsofvisua|ismcana|sobcrc|atcdto thc impactofpcrspcc-
tivc and |itcracy upon our consciousncss. As 5i fricd Cicdion shows, pcrspcctivc
,| itcra| |y, "c|car-sccing") bccomcs thcprincipa|Wcstcm conccptionofspacchom
thc car|y hftccnth ccntury and has thc immcdiatc chcct of privi |cging thc way
things appcarfrom a hxcd, dctachcd point ofvicw-that of thc obscrvcr. "With
thc invcntion ofpcrspcctivc thcmodcmnotionofindividua|ismfound its artistic
countcrpart. Lvcryc|cmcnt inapcrspcctivcrcprcscntationisrc|atcdto thc uniquc
point of vicw of thc individua| spcctator" Cicdion t q t . t ) . crspcctivc, how-
cvcr, isnot thc spacc-conccptionofcithcrthcprc-Kcnaissanccwor|dorthcprc|it-
cratc wor|d. Lonsidcr Lhristinc Hc||iwc||' s vivid cvocation of |ifc in a Oayak
|onghousc in Ka| imantan barat Wcst bomco) . Jhc "f|ow of sound and | ight is
crucia| , " shc writcs, "thc |onghousc communityasawho|c isdchncdandcncirc|cd
morc by thcsc two things thanby anythingc|sc . " Whcrcasprcviouscthnographcrs
had comparcd Oayak |onghouscs to lines ofprivatc|y owncd, scmidctachcd houscs
a|ong a strcct, Hc||iwc|| conccntratcs hcr attcntion on "|ivcd spacc, " drawing on
hcrown hc|d cxpcricnccs andcmphasi:ingwhat ishcard and fc|tasmuch as what
is sccn.
Intrdution
I recall, while living in the Gerai longhouse, writing letters back to Australia in
which I constantly referred to the longhouse as a "community of voices," for I could
think of no more apt way to describe the largely invisible group of which I found myself
to be a part. Voices flow in a longhouse in a most extraordinary fashion; moving up
and down its length in seeming monologue, they are in fact in continual dialogue with
listeners who may be unseen but are always present. As such they create, more than
does any other facet of longhouse life, a sense of community. Through the sounds of
their voices neighbours two, three, four, or fve apartments apart are tied into each
other's world, into each other's company, as intimately as if they were in the same
room. During my frst two months in the longhouse, sharing the apartment of a Dayak
household, I could not understand why my hostess was constantly engaged in talk with
no one. She would give long descriptions of things that had happened to her during
the day, of work she had to do, of the state of her feelings and so on, all the while
standing or working alone in her longhouse apartment. To a Westerer, used to the
idea that one's home stops at its walls, and that interaction beyond these involves a
proj ection of the voice or of the self which makes impossible the continuation of nor
mal domestic chores, her behaviour seemed eccentric to say the least. It was only much
later, on my second feldtrip, that I came to realise that the woman's apparent mono
logues always had an audience, and that they were a way of afrming and recreating
the ties across apartments that made her a part of the longhouse as a whole rather
than a member of an isolated household. In addition, I recognised with time that she
was almost certainly responding to questions floating across apartment partitions that
I, still bewildered and overwhelmed by the cacophony of sound that characterises
longhouse life, was unable to distinguish. Eventually I too came to be able to separate
out the distinct strands that were individual voices, which wove together magically
in the air and flowed through the spaces of separate apartments. These were never
raised as the dialogue moved through four or even fve partitions, but their very
mutedness reinforced the sense of intimacy, of membership in a private, privileged
world. Such conversations were to be taken up at will and put down again according
to the demands of work or sleep: never forced, never demanding participation, but
always gentle, generous in their reminder of a companionship constantly at hand. For
me, even in memory they remain utterly compelling: the one aspect of longhouse life
that distinguishes it most clearly from the Wester world to which I have since re
tured. ( Helliwell 1 988)
7
Mycxpcricnccof|ivingin a Kuranko vi ||agc is vcry simi|ar. Kuranko conccivc
ofa community as a c|ustcrofcommonccntcrsconncctcdby paths , a conccption
groundcd in thc physica| |ayout of thc vi ||agc itsc|f. A Kuranko vi ||agc is madc
up of a numbcr of opcn spaccs ca||cd luiye around which arc groupcd circu|ar
thatchcd houscs. Jhc luiye arc intcrconncctcdby a |abyrinth ofnarrow |ancs and
dusty paths a|ong which pcop|c movc in thc day-to-day roundofvi ||agc | ifc.
In a Kuranko vi||agc, thcrc isnoonc mainpath |cadingto aprivi|cgcdvantag :
pointwhcrc onc can takc upthcpositionofspcctatororobscrvcr. Lnthccontrary,
thc structurc ofthc vi||agc cnforccs participation. Lvcn from a hammockon a vc-
randa, |ooking out into a luiye, ha|f-hiddcn by thc |ow cavcs of thc housc, onc
ispartofthcgoingson inthcvi||agc, immcrscdin itssightsandsmc||sandsounds.
thc fcc| of a crackcd mud wa|| against thc pa|m ofonc's hand, thc pungcnt odor
ofcassava |cafand dricdhsh saucc, thc fctid smc|| ofbodics, thc crics ofchi|drcn,
thc rhythmic thud ofmortars pounding ricc, thc crowing of a roostcr, thc raiscd
voiccs ofmcn dcbating somc vcxcd issuc in thc courtgbare.
lot |ong aftcrbcginninghc|dwork in irawa in t , I , a crcaturcofadccp|y
ingraincd cu|tura| habit, c|imbcd thc hi|| ovcr|ooking thc vi ||agc to get things into
perspectve bydistancingmysc|ffromthcm. romthchi||top, I survcycd thcvi ||agc,
t k panoramic photographs, and achicvcd my bird's-cyc vicw, bc|icving that my
s ipcrior position wou|d hc|p mc gain insights into thc organi:ation of thc vi ||agc
whcn, in fact, it was making mc |osc touh with i t.
Jcn ycars |atcr I was|iving i nirawawi thmywifc anddaughtcr, Hcidi . Lnc
cvcningHcidiandI c|imbcdthchi||abovcthcvi||agc. lo onc c|sccvcrdid. Jhcrc
wcrc no paths , on|y ta|| brakcs of c|cphant grass, granitc bou|dcrs, and acacias.
^t thc crcst ofthchi|| I found thcgnar|cd andcharrcd |ophira trccwhcrc I had
takcn my photographs of irawa in t . I askcd Hcidi what shc thought ofthc
vicw. "It' s a|| right, " shc said, "cxccpt you can't scc anyonc in thc vi ||agc hom
hcrc . " ^nd indccd, thcrc was no human movcmcnt visib|c, on|y thc smokc from
cooking hrcs.
Jhosc tcnycars hadsccnmc ccasc to bc a dctachcd obscrvcr andbccomc a
part of irawa. I rccogni:cd thc vi||agc as a sccond homc. Jhc transition was, I
somctimcs thought, |ikc thc transition that occurs in a fricndship. ^t thc timc
of hrst mccting somconc you |ikc, you arc somcwhat guardcd, you try to gct to
know thc othcr pcrson through convcrsation, an cxchangc of vicws and cxpcri-
cnccs. but thcn, to | ivc with thc othcr pcrson, cvcn for a whi|c, givcs risc to a
dihcrcnt kind ofundcrstanding, onc which suspcnds thc scnsc ofscparatcncss bc-
twccn sc|fandothcrandcvokcs thcprimordia| mcaning ofknow|cdgc as a modc
ofbcing-togcthcr-with. 9
Myskctchofthc Kuranko vi||agc aslived space cntai |s rcp|acingthc spacc con-
ccption ofpcrspcctivc with that ofcubism. 1 0 Itsuggcstsa topoana|ysis which cm-
phasi:cs thc scnsc of |iving in a p|acc, of cxpcricncing it hom a|| sidcs, moving
andparticipatinginitinstcadofrcmainingonthcmargins| ikcavoycurbachc|ard
i q. U) . Lschcwing thc supcrvisory pcrspcctivc oftraditiona| cmpiricism which,
as ucau|tobscrvcs , privi|cgcsga:cas an instrumcntofbothknow|cdgcandcon-
tro `
) , thc radica| cmpiricist trics to avoid hxcd vicwpoints by dispcrsing author-

ship, working througha|| hvc scnscs , and rcccting inward|y as wc|| as obscrving
outward|y.
but striving for thcsc goa|s, as I discovcrcdwhcnwriting Brawa, bringsonc
hard upagainstthc|imitationsof| itcracy. Marsha||McLuhan argucsthatpcrspcc-
tivcdcrivcsunconscious|yfromprinttcchno|ogy t y. U) . Likcpcrspcctivc, | itcr-
acy privi |cgcs vision ovcr thc othcr scnscs, abstractsthoughtfrom socia| contcxt,
andiso|atcsthc rcadcrorwritcrfrom thcwor|d McLuhan t z) . "Ifora|commu-
nicationkccpspcop|c togcthcr, " notcs Oavid Kicsman, "print is thc iso|ating mc-
dium par excellence" i yo. tt q) . 5imi|ar pcri|s attcnd what Kichard Korty ca||s
"tcxtua|ism, thc idcathatthcrc is nothingoutsidcoftcxts, thata|| |ivcdcxpcri-
cncccanbc rcduccdto intcrtcxtua|ity. "stimu|ustothcintc||cctua|' sprivatcmora|
imagination providcd by hisstrong misrcadings, by his scarch for sacrcd wisdom,
is purchascd at thc pricc ofhi sscparation hom hi sfc||ow-humans" t Uz. t U) .
Intrution 9
Lthnographicknow|cdgc that isconstructcd out ofvcrba|statcmcntsor| ikcns
cxpcricncc to a tcxtwhichcan bc "rcad, " dcciphcrcd, ortrans|atcd, is scvcrc|y rc-
strictcd, iffornoothcrrcasonthanthatthcpcop|cwithwhomanthropo|og|sts| ivc
and work arc usua||y non|itcratc. Jo dcsist hom taking notcs, to |istcn, watch,
smc| | , touch, dancc, |cam to cook, makc mats, | ight a hrc, farm-such pract|ca|
andsocia|ski||sshou|dbcasconst|tutivcofourundcrstand|ngasvcrba|statcmcnts
and cspouscd bc||cfs. Know|cdgcbc|ongs to thc wor|d ofoursocia| cxistcncc, not
j ustto thc wor|d ofacadcmc. Wc must comc to itthroughparticipat|on as wc|| as
obscrvation and notdism|ss |ivcd cxpcricncc-thc actua| rc|ationships that mcdi-
atc ourundcrstandinof, andsusta|nus in, anothcr cu|turc, thc opprcssionofi||-
ncss or so|itudc, thc hustrations ofa forcign |anguagc, thc tcdium of unpa|atab|c
food-as"intcrfcrcncc"or"noisc"tobch|tcrcdoutinthcproccssofcrcat|nganob-
j cctivcrcportfor our profcssion abian t . to) .
Considcronc cxamp|c ofhow thc abstract and undcc|arcd contcxt ofan cth-
nographcr's work conf|ictcd with thc immcd|atc socia| contcxt of thc vi ||agc in
which hc sojou mcd. Whcn au| 5to||cr startcd hc|dwork among thc 5onghay of
ligcr, hc scthimsc|fthc task ofcomp|ctinga |anguagc-attitudc "survcy. " ^ga|n,
thc mot|fofthc disintcrcstcd ovcrvicw. ) ^ftcr a month' shardwork, a casua| rc-
markbyan informantnamcdMahamancsuggcstcdtothccthnographcrthataprc-
vious informant, ^bdou, had cxaggcratcd thc numbcr of |anguagcs hc spokc.
5to||crdoub|c-chcckcd. ^bdou rcad||yadmittcd that hcspokcon|ytwo |anguagcs,
not four. 5to||cr askcd him why hc had |icd.
Abdou shrugged his shoulders and smiled. "What diference does it make?" He looked
skyward for a moment. "Tell me, Monsieur Paul , how many languages did Mahamane
tell you that he spoke?"
"Mahamane told me that he speaks three languages. "
"Hah! I know for a fact that Mahamane speaks only one language. He can speak
Songhay and that is all . "
"What!"
I stomped back to Mahamane's shop.
"Abdou tells me that you speak only one language. But you just told me that you
speak three languages. What is the truth?"
"Ah, Monsieur Paul, Abdou is telling you the truth. "
"But how could you l i e to me?"
"What diference does it make, Monsieur Paul ?" (Stoller 1987:9)
C|car|y, know|cdgc is ncvcr ncutra| or dis|ntcrcstcd, at |cast not for thc
5onghay. Jhc intc||cctua|ist assumption that know|cdgc can bc gathcrcd wi thout
rcfcrcncc to contcxt ofusc orthc pcrsona|ity ofthc informant and thc cthnogra-
phcrisshownupasasham. Withoutacontcxtinwhichknow|cdgccanbcp|accd,
agoa|againstwhichits uscm|ncsscanbcgaugcd, thcqucstionsofthccthnographcr
arc sccn as point|css. ^ny answcr wi|| do. What dihcrcncc docs it makc'
||owingthiscpisodc, 5to||crrcj cctcdthcnot|onofimpartia|obscrvationand
dccidcd for partic|pat|on-to rcsist taking notcs and simp|y sit with thc 5onghay
and| istcn. "1oumust|camthcmcaningofthc5onghayadagc'Lncki||ssomcthing
1 0 PATHS TOWARD A CLEARING
thin in appcarancc on|y to discovcr that insidc it is fat, `' an o|d mara bout tc||s
him tt ) . or 5to||cr, this shift from thc arcanc, othcr-wor|d|y goa|sof acadcmc
to thc immcdiatc, mundanc, andpractica|hc|dof5onghaycxistcncc mcant, quitc
|itcra||y, apprcnticing himsc|f to 5onghay tcachcrs, acccpting thcir know|cdgc in
thcir tc =s , and cxp|oring thc contcxts in which thatknow|cdgc was uscd.
but whatbccomcsofcthnography whcn it|ocatcsknow|cdgc in thcwor|dof
cvcr ,day cxistcncc and givcs up thc qucst for somc supracmpirica| point ofvicw'
Lct usrctumbricf|yto thcqucstionof|itcracy. Litcracyhas thcchcctofiso|at-
ing us and our idcas from thc | ivcdwor|dofsocia| cxpcricncc. but it a|so prcdis-
poscs us to thinkofsocia|cxpcricncc in scqucntia|, | inca| tcrms Lcc t yo) . Lon-
sidcr thc notion of | incagc or |inca| dcsccnt. ^pp| icd to most ^frican socictics,
thc tcrm lineage is a misnomcr. Lvcnwhcnonchnds an indigcnous wordthat is
ncar|y idcntica| to our word lineage, thcrc may bc an indchnitc rc|ationship bc-
twccn thc word and what it appcars to dcsignatc. or cxamp|c, among thc Jiv
ofligcria, thcwordnongo mcans |itcra||y "|inc" or"qucuc, " though it"rcfcrs pri-
mari|ytothc|ivingrcprcscntativcsofa |incagc, " agroupingwithoutanyrca|gcnc-
a|ogica|dcpth bohannan t yo. y) . ^ morcinc|usivctcrm, ityo "patri |incagc") ,
which onc might cxpcct to suggcst a dcsccnt "|inc, " conj urcs up for thc Jiv an
imagcof"thcfathcr'spath"orwayofdoingthingsrathcrthana"| inc"ofsucccssion
and anccstry U) . Jhis is rcminisccntofthcway thc Kuranko spcak ofthcirrc|a-
tionships withbothcontcmporary kinandforcbcars as nctworks ofpaths or ropcs
,ackson t Uza. t -) . Whcn anccstors arc namcd at a sacrihcc, thcy arc ca||cd
at random as thcycomc to mind andaskcdto "passonthcsacrihccto cvcrybody,
namcd and unnamcd" |ackson tyya. tz) . 5imi|ar|y, whcn sharing gcnca|ogica|
information with mc, Kuranko vi||agcrs wou|d not |ist thc namcs offorcbcars in
strict| inca| scqucnccsbutrathcrc|ustcrthcmasbc|ongingtothcfathcr'sormoth-
cr's "p|acc" (fa ware or n ware) or as "patcma| oncs" and "matcma| oncs" (fa keli
meenu andn keli meenu) , suggcsting imagcsofp|acc andparcntagc, not|ong|incs
ofdcsccnt ,ackson t yyb. U) .
12
Mcycrortcs'sJa||cnsicthnographyprovidcsasupcrbcxamp|cofhowrc|ation-
shipsarcconccptua| i:cdspatia||yandtcmpora||yintcrmsofimagcsofa houscand
a bcgctting. irst ortcs notcs, rathcrsurprising|y, that "thc Ja||cnsihavc no tcrm
for thc |incagc" tq.to) . Hc thcn gocs on to assimi|atc thcir mctaphors to his
own
A lineage of any order is designated the "house" ( yir) or the chi ldren ( biis ) of the found
ing ancestor . . . . In contexts where the emphasis is on the lineage considered as a
segment of a more inclusive lineage, it is commonly described as a "rom" (dug) of
the more inclusive "house" (yir ) . . . . As this nomenclature shows, the interal consti
tution of the lineage is modelled on that of the polygynous j oint family. ( xo-1 1 ) .
What rtcs ca||s a |incagc is thus a housc or houscho|d (yidem) , a group of
pcop|c who fcc| thcy sharc "onc b|ood" or "onc bcgctting."1 3 Lnfortunatc|y, how-
cvcr, thc conccpt "|incagc" and thc charts and diagrams that go with it imposc
an abstract | incarity on this |ivcd rca|ity, somcthing Lvans-ritchard commcnts
on in his account of how thc lucr hgurc a |incagc systcm. "Whcn i||ustrating
Intrdution 1 1
on thc ground a numbcr of rc|atcd |incagcs thcy do not prcscnt thcm thc way
wc hgurc thcm in this chaptcr as a scrics of bifurcations of dcsccnt, as a trcc
of dcsccnt, or as a scrics of triang|cs ofasccnt, but as a numbcr of| incs running
at ang|cs from a common point . " lucr scc thc "|incagc systcm, " Lvans-ritchard
says , "primari|y a actul relations between goups of kinsmen within local com
munities rther thn a a tree of descent, for thc pcrsons aftcr whom thc |incagcs
arc ca||cd do not a|| procccd from a sing|c individua|" t qo. zoz, cmphasis
addcd) .
but thc prob|cm with thc conccpt of| incagc is not on|y its biastoward |incar
pcrspcctivc. It givcs risc to models of scgmcntary organi:ation and socia| ordcr
which takc on a |ifc of thcir own. Lnc conscqucncc is that thc | ifc-wor|d ofthc
pcop|c gctscc| ipscdandthcanthropo|ogistcomcstocomparcsocicticsnotintcrms
ofcmpirica|rca|iticsbut intcrmsofrcihcd conccpts , confusingmapwith tcrritory,
thc structurc ofdiscoursc with thc structurc ofthings Ocwcy t z. o, Kor:ybski
t q t ) .
' ^ sccond conscqucncc is that thc j argon ofthc anthropo|ogist crcatcs an

i||usionofdihcrcnccand masks what hchas incommonwiththcpcop|chcstudics.
a scnsc ofbcing in timc and spacc, bcgottcn by somconcand bc|onging to somc
p|acc. In this scnsc, it isworthrcmcmbcring that thc Lng|ish be and thc Ccrman
bin arc cognatc with Indo-Luropcan words mcaning to bui|d, dwc| | , cngcndcr,
bcing-in-thc-wor|disa|waysakindofdwc|| ingHcidcggcr t yy. z-z, bachc|ard
t q) .
low ifi t i s truc that |incar pcrspcctivc and |itcracy prcvcnt cocva|ncss, thcn
thcrc isagoodcascfortryingto undcrstandthcwor|dthroughbodi|y participation
and through scnscs othcr than sight abian t U . i oU, Korty t y. , 5to||cr
t Uq, 5to||cr and L|kcs t U) . Lct us not forgct thc tastc of roust's peti te
maeleine, nor music, nor dancc, nor thc sharingoffood, thc smc|| ofbodics, thc
touch ofhands.
In anthropo|ogy, such cxp|orations arc ncccssary if on|y bccausc thc pcop|c
wc study oftcn privi |cgc scnsory modcs othcr than sight as foundationa| to socia|
know|cdgc. Ifwc want to hnd commongroundwith thcm, wc havc to opcn our-
sc|vcs to modcs ofscnsory and bodi|y |ifc which, whi|c mcaningfu| to us in our
pcrsona| |ivcs, tcnd to gct supprcsscd in our acadcmic discoursc.
Lct us bricf|y considcr two socictics whcrc thc hvc scnscs arc givcn dihcrcnt
cmphascsand mcanings than incontcmporaryWcstcmsocictics. thc 5uyaofLcn-
tra| bra:i| and thc lorthcm 1aka ofLairc.
^mong thc 5uya, sccing is not bc|icving. both vision and smc|| arc "anti-
socia|" facu|tics. "Jhc cycs arc |itcra||y thc scat of antisocia| powcr" and asso-
ciatcd with witchcraft 5ccgcr tUt. Uy ) . Witchcs posscss cxtraordinary vision
but hcar and spcak bad|y. Hcaring and spcaking arc thc "cmincnt|y socia| facu|-
tics"andthc carandmoutharcthcmostimportant organs. Jhus, whi|c thc 5uya
dccoratc thc cars and |ips with disks, thc cycs and nosc arc |cft unomamcntcd.
"Jhrough thc pcrforation of thc mouth and thc car|obc and thc inscrtion of
paintcddisks , thcbody itsc|fissocia| i:cd. Lardisks and |ipdisksarc rc|atcd tofun-
damcnta| conccpts ofpcrson, mora|ity, and thc symbo|ism ofbody parts" t ) .
^mong thc 1aka, quitcdihcrcnt scnsory cmphascs cxist. 5ocia| intcraction is
1 2 pATHS TOWARD A CLEARING
construcd as a kind of wcaving or intcrtwining. Lnc powcrm| cxprcssion ofthis
is dancing, which |ustm||y cc|cbratcs thc ow of vita| forcc ( m-moo yi ) bctwccn
human bcings and bctwccn pcop|c and naturc. Oancing iscomparcdwith scxua|
intcrcoursc and commcnsa|ity,which |ikcwisc crcatc rcciproci ty throughphysica|
co-prcscncc and intcrtwining Ocvisch t U, t Ua, t Ub) . Ir thc 1aka, socia|
rc|ations invo|vc "cxchangcs of fcc|ing," and in this proccss thc scnscs of touch
and smc|| arc paramount.
Eting, drinking, and procreating, which involve olfactor and tactile contact, are the
acts that constitute the domestic zone and that generate symmetrical reciprocity . . . .
As the Yaka say, "By its ver nature, eating must be shared" (-diisaan) . Eating circum
scribes a space of physical co-presence "where bodies intrde on one another"
(-dyatasan). Procreating is spoken of as "causing one another to intertwine legs"
( -biinsan mlu). . . .
Olfactay contct . . . "puts oneself beside oneself" and inserts the individual into
the social and natural domains. Procreation, by which the sexes and generations are
mediated and diferentiated, is symbolized and concretized among the Yaka as "smelling
one another": sexual partners "induce each other to secrete smell and to take in each
other's smell" (fyaan, -nyuukisan) . In other words, smelling constrcts a liminal
process between the procreators: i t provides a bodily matrix for a reciprocal interaction
in which the poles ( inner/outer, self/other, giver/receiver) are j oined and set apart.
( Devisch I 98sa:597, 596)
I||ncss is fc|t to bc a disturbancc in this symbo|ic intcmcavc ofsc|f, socicty, and
cosmos-"abadsmc||"-andthcrapy isawayofrcvita|i:ingsocia|andcosmiccon-
ncctions,aswc||asgivingrcbirthtothc sick individua|,throughbodi|ymctaphors
of hunting, wcaving, and scxua| rcgcncration Ocvisch t Uq) .
LK I 5 I 5 , LLM JL XJ , ^M O LLM L L K M
Jhcsc a||usions to i||ncssandhca|ingbringus to yctanothcrway inwhichradica|
cmpiricismdihcrshomtraditiona|cmpiricism. itsrcfusa|torcducc| ivcdcxpcricncc
to mathcmatica| or mcchanica| modc|s and thcn c|aim that thcsc modc|s arc cvi-
dcncc or rcprcscntations ofthccsscntia| charactcr ofcxpcricncc. ^s|ohn Ocwcy
puts it.
Wen we view experientially this change, what occurs is the kind of thing that hap
pens in the usefl arts when natural obj ects, like crde ores, are treated as materials
for getting something else. Their character ceases to lie in their immediate qualities,
in j ust what they are and as directly enjoyed. Their character is now representative;
some pure metal, iron, copper, etc. is their essence, which may be extracted as their
"true" nature, their "reality. " To get at this reality many existent constituents have
to be got rid of. From the standpoint of the object, pure metal, these things to be
eliminated are "false, " irrelevant and obstrctive. They stand in the way, and in the
existent thing those qualities are alone signifcant which indicate the ulterior obj ective
and which ofer means for attaining it. ( I 929: I 33)
Introdution 13
Jo rccovcr a scnsc ofthc qua|itics of cxpcricncc wc havc to go mrthcr than
thc traditiona| cmpiricist's intcrcst in prcdictab|c, rcgu|arpattcms. irst, wc must
rccogni:c thc tcmpora|ity of cxpcricncc. Lxpcricncc is not rcducib|c to timc|css
|aws or csscnccs, it is a bound|cssproccss. ^s such it inc|udcs things rcfractory to
ordcr, | imina|cvcnts, criscsandrcvcrsa|s, cvcntsuncannyandcontingcnt Jumcr
t U . t y, i o-gt , z t c-t t ) . InOi|thcy'stcrms, cxpcricncccmbraccsboththctyp-
ica| or customary ( Erarung) and thc idiosyncratic, or cxccptiona| and ccting
( Erlebnis) scc bcnj amin t U. t ) . 5ccond, wc mustrccogni:cthatdircct, prcrc-
cctivc cxpcricncc is no |css signihcant than thc cxpcricncc that comcs ofrccc-
tionandratiocination. 5cnsib|candcmotiona|cxpcricnccsarcnotconfuscdforms
of cognition, to bc dismisscd, as Lcvi-5trauss docs, as cpiphcnomcna simp|y bc-
causcthcydonothavccxp|anatoryva|uc t b. t qz, t U t . y-U) . Jhc smc|| of
cuca|ypts aftcr rain and biochcmica| cxp|anations of this samc cxpcricncc shou|d
not bcrankcd in tcrms ofa distinction bctwccn subj cctivcappcarancc and obj cc-
tivcrca|ity, forthci||uminationisasmcaningfu|asthcana|yscsthatrcsu|tfromour
rccctions on it. Ocwcy cxprcsscs it as fo||ows.
The features of obj ects reached by scientifc or reflective experiencing are important,
but so are all the phenomena of magic, myth, poli tics, painting, and penitentiaries.
The phenomena of social life are as relevant to the problem of the relation of the indi
vidual and universal as are those of logic; the existence in political organization of
boundaries and barriers, of expansion and absorption, will be quite as important for
metaphysical theories of the discrete and the continuous as is anything derived fom
chemical analysis. The existence of ignorance as well as of wisdom, of error and even
insani ty as well as of trth will be taken into account.
That is to say, nature is construed in such a way that all these things, since they
are actual, are naturally possible; they are not explained away into mere "appearance"
in contrast with reality. Illusions are illusions, but the occurrence of i llusions is not
an illusion, but a genuine reality. What is really "in" experience extends much frther
than that which at any time is know. . . . It is important for philosophical theory
to be aware that the distinct and evident are prized and why they are. But it is equally
important to note that the dark and twilight abound. ( r 929: 20)
Jhird, wc mustrccogni:c thatconccptua|ordcrsarcnotsomuch"rcprcscntations"
of thc inhcrcnt ordcr|incss ofthe wor|d as forms ofwishfu| thinking-ob|igativc
truths orpost festum rationa|i:ations whosc rc|ationship to | ivcdcxpcricncc a|ways
rcmains indctcrminatc. Iurth, wc must critica||y cxaminc thc ways in which a
prcoccupationwithpattcmandordcr is|inkcdhistorica||ytoaconccmforcontro|-
| ing naturc and othcr human bcings, a form of instrumcnta| rationa|i ty Ocwcy
t z. t z, Horkhcimcr and ^domo t yz ) . by tuming hom cpistcmo|ogy toward
thc cvcryday wor|d of|ivcd cxpcricncc, thc radica| cmpiricist is inc|incd to j udgc
thc va|uc ofan idca, not j ust against antcccdcnt cxpcricnccs or thc |ogica| stan-
dardsofscicntihc inquirybuta|soagainstthcpractica|, cthica| , cmotiona| , andacs-
thcticdcmandsof | ifc Ocwcy t Uo. t -U, |amcs t yU. o-qo, Kortyt Uz. zo-U,
Vhitchcad t qy. zz) . Jhis mcans that thc traditiona|cmpiricist'shankcringaftcr
ordcr and contro| is to bc sccn asj ustonc of many conso|ing i||usions, onc strata-
gcmfor making scnsc ofan unstab|c wor|d, notas an "accuratc rcprcscntation of
rca| i ty" or a privi |cgcd insight into thc way thc wor|d "rca||y" works Korty
t y. t c, t Uz. t q) .
Iti s somctimcsthoughtthatthis instrumcnta|thcoryoftruthrcduccsa| | idcas
to a mattcr of practica| cxpcdicncy or pcrsona| whim. but in going bcyond thc
traditiona|cmpiricist'scorrcspondcnccthcoryoftruth, Ocwcywantcdtocmphasi:c
that idcashavc to bc tcstcdagainstthcwhole ofourcxpcricncc-scnscpcrccptions
aswc||asmora| va|ucs, scicntihc aims as wc|| as communa| goa|s. orOcwcy, both
thc sourcc and thc consummation of idcas |ic within thc socia| wor|d to which
wc incscapab|y bc|ong. Jhat is why thc pragmatist rcgards opcn-cndcd, ongoing
convcrsation with othcrs as morc "cdiing" than thc task ofcomp|cting a systcm-
atic cxp|anationof othcrs Korty t y. -y) . Incthnography, thismcansaban-
doning induction andatively dcbatingand cxchangingpointsofvicwwithourin-
formants. Itmcansp|acingour idcasonaparwith thcirs, tcstingthcm notagainst
prcdctcrmincdstandardsofrationa| itybutagainstthc immcdiatccxigcncicsof| ifc.
5uch cngagcmcnt |cads away from "thc ovcrarching univcrsa|ofa strict|y ob-
j cctivc mcthod" to what Mcr|cau-ontyca||s"a sort of|atcra| univcrsa| , " acquircd
through an "inccssant tcsting ofthc sc|fthrough thc othcr pcrson and thc othcr
pcrsonthroughthcsc|f. It isaqucstionofconstructingagcncra|systcmofrcfcrcncc
in which thc point ofvicw ofthc nativc, thc point ofvicw ofthc civi|i:cd man,
and thc mistakcn vicws cach has of thc othcr can a|| hnd a p|acc" t q. tt ) .
I t i s ananthropo|ogywhoscconccm"i sncithcrtoprovcthatthcprimitivci s wrong
nor to sidc with him against us , but to sct itsc|f up on a ground whcrc wc sha||
both bc intc|| igib|c without any rcductionorrash transposition" t zz) .
Mcr|cau-onty's a||usionto univcrsa|sbrings us to a considcrationofthc cxis-
tcntia| |citmotifs whicharc cxp|orcd throughout this book. thrownncss, hnitudc,
and unccrtainty. In Hcidcggcr's tcrms , our bcing- in-thc-wor|d is a "thrownncss"
( Geworenheit} ; wc arc "thrown" (geworen) into a wor|d which has bccn madc by
othcrsatothcr timcs andwi||out|astus. Vcchooscncithcrthc timc northcp|acc
ofourbirth, andouroriginsarcnotofourownmaking. Yct, thiswor|dwccncoun-
tcr as "simp|y thcrc" is somcthing wc activc|y cntcr into and makc ovcr to our-
sc|vcs. Vc rca|i:c its givcnncss as possibi|ity. Lvcn if nothing wc do sccms to
changc thc wor|d, it is disc|oscd in thc vcry fact ofourcxistcncc. Morcovcr, cvcn
ifwc go a|ongwithwhat isgivcn, acccptingourcontingcncyanddcnyingourhcc-
dom, wc contributc to thc way thc wor|d wi|| bc for thosc who fo||ow us into it.
Mostpcop|c, howcvcr, domorc thanfa||backintothcgivcnwor|d. Jhcy|ivc
it as a choicc, cc|cbratingncccssity as a kind offrccdom' ` or dcnyingdctcminacy
through rcvo| t, fantasy, critiquc, orshccrpcrvcrsity. Hcrc is how Oostoycvskycx-
prcsscs this idca.
even i f man was nothing but a piano key, even if thi s could be demonstrated
mathematically-even then, he wouldn' t come to his senses but would pull some trick
out of sheer ingratitude, j ust to make his point. And if he didn't have them on hand,
he would devise the means of destruction, chaos, and all kinds of sufering to get his
way . . . .
Introdution
I believe this is so and I'm prepared to vouch for it, because it seems to me that
the meaning of man's life consists of proving to himself every minute that he's man
and not a piano key. And man will keep proving it and paying for it with his own
skin; he will tur into a troglodyte if need be. ( r 96r : r r 4-1 5)
1 5
^|ongwiththcscnscof thrownncssgocs a scnscof | ifc as hnitc, anincvitab|c
movcmcnt toward dcath. ^gainst timc and thc dccay ofthc body, wc construct
notionsofoursc|vcs as cnduring and invincib|c-hcro myths, bc|icfs in rcincama-
tion, notions ofan aftcr|ifc and anccstorhood, fantasicsof|ivingon inthc mcmo-
rics ofothcrs and in immorta| works-masks, rca||y, which Lmcst bcckcr ( r y)
intcrprcts as dcfcnscs against thc univcrsa| tcrror of dcath. Indccd, thc qucst of
traditiona|phi|osophyforastab|c, cthcrca| i:cdknow|cdgcofthc wor|d maybconc
such attcmpt to "buy oh" contingcncy, to gct us abovc thc wor|d of matcria|ity
and changc and magica||y bring us a kind ofimmorta| ity Ocwcy i z. qq-) .
Hcrc wc touch on thc third |citmotif. thc prccarious and pcri |ous charactcr
ofcxistcncc. ^s Ocwcy obscrvcs, pcop|c cvcrywhcrc scck sccurity and stabi|ity in
thc facc of thc wor|d' s ha:ards. Making a homc or cstab|ishing a sct routinc is,
in this scnsc, on thcsamcfooting as constructing an intc||cctua| systcm. but thc
prob|cmwithourintc||cctua|cndcavortotransccndthcvicissitudcsof| ivcdcxpcri-
cncc isthatitinc| incsustobc|icvcthcrcisadccpsp|itwithinbcingitsc|fbctwccn
a "highcr"conccptua|rca|mwhcrcccrtitudc maybc foundandan "infcrior" rca|m
of thc scnsory, bodi|y, matcria|, and practica| |ifc which is intrinsica||y unstab|c
andunccrtain. romthismctaphysica|sp| i t, othcrdua|ismsfo||ow-bctwccnmind
andmattcr, spiritandbody, rationa|thoughtandscnsuousappctitc-but"a||havc
thcirorigin, " argucs Ocwcy, "inafcarofwhat|ifc maybringforth. Jhcyarcmarks
ofcontraction and withdrawa|" i U. zz) .
Lncsuchcscapchom| ivcdcxpcricncci s providcdbythcintc||cctua|istnotion
that knowing is a kind ofoutsidc bcho|ding rathcrthan a mattcr ofparticipation
in thc ongoingdramaofthc wor|d Ocwcy i Uo. z i ) . but ifknow|cdgc is not so
much a systcmatic rcvc|ation of thc inncr |ogic of antcccdcnt cvcnts as a way of
dca| ingwith|ifc inthchcrcandnow, thcnthcanthropo|ogist'sprcoccupationwith
rcgu|arity, pattcm, systcm, and structurc has to bc sccn as |css anobj cctivcrccc-
tion of socia| rca| ity than a commcnt on his pcrsona| and profcssiona| nccd for
ccrtitudc and ordcr.
Lonsidcr an cpisodc inmyownhc|dwork. Inthchrstfcw months inthchc|d
I bcganrcscarchon Kuranko drcam intcrprctationandquick|yco||cctcd many stc-
rcotypica| intcrprctations ofdrcam imagcs. Jo drcamofhocing a farm portcndcd
a kinsman'sdcath, a hshwith sca|csforcto|d thc birthofa ma|cchi|d, a hshwith-
out sca|cs forcto|d thc birth of a fcma|c chi|d, drowning or f|oundcring in dccp
watcrindicatcdaconspiracyagainstthcdrcamcr, pcop|cfc|| ingtrccsindccpforcst
indicatcdthcfai|urcofaconspiracy, c| imbinga mountainorf|ying| ikcabirdprcs-
agcd prospcrity and happincss, and so on. Vithin a month I had rccordcd quitc
a rcpcrtoirc ofsuch intcrprctations and bcgun trying to disccm in thcm somc un-
dcr|yingsystcmofmcaning. butthcnI mysc|fhadastrangcandpcrp|cxingdrcam,
which I rc|atcd to a divincr, curious to know what hc wou|d makc of it.
I was in a barc room, rcminisccnt of onc of thc c|assrooms in thc Oistrict
Lounci| rimary 5choo| in Kaba|a whcrc I had hrst mct Moah Marah, my hc|d
assistant. 5uddcn|y a corrugatcd iron door opcncd into thc room and a book was
passcdthroughthcdoomayasifbyan invisib|c hand. orscvcra|sccondsthcbook
hung in midair, and I madc outon its covcr in bo|d typc thcwordETHNOGRPHY.
I had a dchnitc imprcssion that thc book containcd on|y b|ank pagcs. Jhcn thc
door swung opcn again and a trcmcndous prcscncc swcpt into thc room and |iftcd
mc up bodi|y. I was bomc a|oft, as if in thc hands of a giant, and carricd out of
thc room. Jhc prcssurc ofthc giant's ho|d against my chcst madc it hard for mc
to brcathc. I wokc up, afraid |ackson t yUb. t zo, t U. y ) .
Jhcdivincr, orc Kargbo, waspu::|cdbythcdrcamanddiscusscdi t withothcr
c|dcrs. I was askcd if thc giant cw up into thc sky with mc and whcthcr or not
hc p|accd mc back on thc ground. Vhcn I had answcrcdhis qucstions, Irc said
my drcam forcto|d that I wou|d bccomc an important pcrson, "|ikc a chicf. " Jhc
book signihcd know|cdgc, thc giant was a dj inn who wishcd to hc|p mc,1 6 ying
|ikcabirdwasasignofhappincss, bcinghighupwasauspicious, andhndingoncsc|f
in astrangcp|acc amongstrangcpcop|csigna|cd immincntprospcrity. Jhc immc-
diatc chcct of Irc's rcmarks was to a||cviatc somc of my anxictics about h||ing
mynotcbookswi thdataandgainingasystcmaticundcrstandingof Kurankosocicty.
but orc's sympathctic rcsponsc to my drcam suggcstcd a dihcrcnt approach to
KurankodrcamintcrprctationthanthconcI hadbccnpursuing. I nowcmphasi:cd
thc usc-va|uc rathcr than thc vcracity of idcas associatcd with divination. Jhcrc
was no dctcrminatc systcm ofmcaning to bc uncovcrcd, sincc mcanings arc givcn
ancw in thc contcxt ofcach consu|tation and in rc|ation to thc conccmsofcach
consu|tcr. Ifthcrcwas any notion ofobj cctivity in Kuranko drcam intcrprctation
its point was to fostcr conhdcncc in thc divinatory mcthods and hc|p pcop|c facc
thc ha:ardsof| ifc, notto undcmritc an abstractcommcntaryonantcccdcntsocia|
or mcnta| cvcnts.
by broadcning its cmpirica| hc|d to inc|udc participatory know|cdgc and sub-
j cctivc conccms, anthropo|ogy p|accs thcknowcrwithin thc wor|d ofthc known
and givcs incomp|ctcncss and prccariousncss thc samc footing as thc hnishcd and
hxcd. In othcr words, it urgcs us not to subj ugatc | ivcd cxpcricncc to thc tyranny
ofrcasonorthcconso|ationofordcrbuttocu|tivatcthatqua|itywhichKcatsca||cd
ncgativc capabi |ity, thc capabi|ity of "bcing in unccrtaintics , Mystcrics, doubts,
without any irritab|c rcaching aftcr fact & rcason. . . . " t U. t ) .
Jhcsc |ast fcw pagcs wi|| no doubt invitc an incvitab|c criticism. Oo notions
such as "ncgativc capabi| ity" and "ncgativc dia|cctics"orcxistcntia| a prioris such
asthrownncss, hnitudc, andunccrtaintyrcf|cctunivcrsa|cxpcricnccorthcparticu-
|arconccmsofasma||groupoftwcnticth-ccnturyLuropcanintc||cctua|s 'Lansuch
notions givc us a foundation for cdiing cross-cu|tura| comparison' How can onc
rcconci|c, for cxamp|c, Vcst ^hican notions ofprcnata| choicc with Hcidcggcr's
notionofthrownncss ' Howdocs thc Hindudoctrincofrcincamationj c| | withthc
cxistcntia|ist' s assumptionofhuman hnitudc' ^nd docsn' tthc rccurring cmphasis
in cxistcntia| and phcnomcno|ogica| writing on individua| cxpcricncc contradict
thc onto|ogica| priority inmanynon-Vcstcmsocicticson socia|rcUnohips ' Lnc
Introdution 1 7
wayofanswcring thcsc qucstions is to ask whcthcrwcfarc any bcttcrin bcginning
cross-cu|tura|comparisonwith "bc|icfsystcms"such aswitchcraft andsorccp, sys-
tcmsofinhcritancc andsucccssion, formsofcconomicproduction, modcsofsocia|
contro| , ormyth, sinccmanyofthcscframcsofrcfcrcnccsuggcstradica|discontnui
tes bctwccn "thcm" and "us , "and fai| to c|ari on what grounds wc can prcsumc
to rcach an undcrstanding of such "a|icn" bc|icfs and practiccs. ^nothcr answcr
is to rccapitu|atc a point I havc a|rcady madc, that our undcrstanding ofothcrs
can only procccd from within our own cxpcricncc, and this cxpcricncc invo|vcs
ourpcrsona|iticsandhistorics as
muchas ourhc|drcscarch. ^ccording|y, ourtask

is tohndsomccommongroundwithothcrsandcxp|orcourdihcrcnccsfrom thcrc.
Jhc cxistcntia| a prioris I havc out| incd abovc sccm to mc as good a p|acc as any
tobcginthis task, sincc thcysituatchumanbcingswithinthcunihcdhc|dofbcing.
^KJ5 ^M O VHLL L 5
^t a confcrcncc of^hicanists hc|d at thc Lnivcrsity ofLppsa|a in ûgust i Uy,
Maric-L|audc Ouprc prcfaccd hcr papcr onthc kidum masks ofthc batckc with
thismcmorab|crcmark."^fctishistisamanwhocannotrc|atctoawho|cwoman,
buton|yto apartofhcr-hcrshocs, hcrbracc|ct, hcrpcrmmc. ^nanthropo|ogist
isafctishisttooas |ongashcrc|atcstoon|ypartofsocia|rca|itybccauschccannot
copc with thc who|c. "
Lur cndcavor to cn|argc thc hc|dofcmpiricism is a |itt|c | ikc wanting to takc
a||thc ^hican masks from thcirg|asscascs in Luropcan muscumsand rctum thcm
to whcrc thcy arc wom and chargcd with | ifc. Muscum authoritics wi|| obstruct
us, and cvcn ifwc succccd ingcttingthc masksback to ^frica, thc vi||agcswhcrc
thcywcrcorigina||ymadcmayno|ongcrcxist andncwmasksmayhavcsupp|antcd
thc o|d. Lscapingthc static andairtightcatcgoricsoftraditiona|cmpiricism, whcrc
|ifc isdividcd into thc |cga| , thc po|itica| , thccconomic, thc socia| , thchistorica| ,
andso forth, is pcrhaps as impossib|c as rctuming our anccstor masks to ^hica
andto |ifc. Lurc|assupbringingcommitsustoc|assihcation, andthc convcntiona|
formsofourdiscoursctrapusindua|ismsanddichotomics. Lvcnifwcdosomctimcs
throw oh our conccptua| chains, wc fcar thc |oss of idcntity and authority that
fo||owsfrom ourfrccdom. Jo brcakawayfrom c|oscdsystcmsandcomp|ctcdstruc-
turcs is thus a tcstofourabi| ity to |ivc "without thc conso|ation that truth cannot
bc |ost" ^domo i y. q) . It is | ikc forfciting thc cohcrcnt and conso| ing struc-
tura| univcrscofLcvi-5trauss andcntcringthc sp|intcrcd, provisiona| , and contra-
dictorywor|dof^domo. Lr, to uscthcscthinkcrs'ownana|ogics , itis| ikcmoving
fromVagncr'sromanticismandchromaticism Lcvi-5trauss'sinspiration)to5chn-
bcrg's atona|ity, with its rcj cctionofc|assica| harmonyand its rcpudiationofctcr-
na|, forma| |aws thc modc| of^domo' s "atona| phi|osophy") .
but it i s storytc||ing, not music, which is thc basis of thc discursivc sty|c I
cxpcrimcntcd with in Brwa and continuc to makc usc of in this book. 5torics,
at|castinthcKuranko tradition, cu|tivatcaccrtaindcgrccofimpcrsona|itysothat
thc cxpcricnccs of thc author arc madc avai|ab|c to othcrs who can discovcr in
thcm mcanings of thcir own. Lugcnio Monta|c ca||s this "thc sccond |ifc ofart . "
^storyisthussuggcstivcrathcrthandchnitivcofmcaning. Itbcginsinthccxpcri-
cncc ofonc pcrson, but othcrs makc it ovcr to thcmsc|vcs and givc it ncw uscs
andintcrprctations. butcvcnmorcimportanttomcthanthishcmcncutica|opcn-
ncssofnarrativcs, orcvcnthcirabi|itytocommunicatcthcfu||ncssandimmcdiacy
of|ifc, is thcwaythcyrccctandcmbodyoncmndamcnta|moda|ityof| ivcdcxpc-
ricncc. thcj oumcy.
Jhisconncctionbctwccnnarrativc andj oumcyiswidc|yrccogni:cd. Jhcc|as-
sica|Crcckwordistorias homwhichwc dcrivc ourwordhistory mcant"trackings, "
and in modcm Crcck istoria mcans both "story" and "cxciting cvcnt" Hcr:fc|d
i U. zoy ) . Hcidcggcr spcaks ofthc task ofphi|osophy as bringing thought "on to
a path"withina forcst, a movcmcnttowarda c|caring, and Va|tcrbcnj aminuscd
thc down-to-carth imagc of sauntcring or id| ing (fnerie) to dcscribc thc impor-
tanccofrandom dctai| andfortuitouscncountcrsinhisintc| |cctua|j oumcysofcx-
p|oration.
Jhcsc imagcsdisc|osc thc intimatc conncctionbctwccn our bodi|ycxpcricncc
inthccvcrydaywor|dandourconccptua|| ifc. Jhus, thcunivcrsa|for ofnarrativc
aswc|| as itsrccurringthcmcsofcxp|orationandpi|grimagc, ofinitiatoryj oumcys
andhcroicqucsts, andcvcnofmundancsortics intocity strccts as in|oycc' s Ulys
ses ) a|| givc cvidcncc of habitua| bodi|y modcs of intcraction and cxpcricncc-
moving to and fro, back and forth in thc wor|d-though there does not necessarily
hve to be any one point of departure, any fxed goal, o any particular denouement.
Jo usc narrativc form in this way is to movc away hom cxccssivc abstraction
and ground onc's discoursc in thc scnticnt | ifc of individua|s intcracting with ob-
j ccts and with othcrs in thc quotidian wor|d. It is a|so to acknow|cdgc that dis-
coursca|waysbc|ongstoacontcxtofwor|d|yintcrcstsandinf|ucnccs, thatourthc-
orics arc a||cgorics of our |ivcs, and our phi|osophy an inadvcrtcnt mcmoir bom
of thc dia|cctic bctwccn what is givcn to us and what wc makc of it Mict:schc
i y . i ) . Jo point out that thc discursivc sty|c I havc adoptcd in this book is
groundcd in narrativc and makcs usc ofmctaphors takcn hom mundanc cxistcncc
is thus to p|acc mythought in rc|ation to my cu|tura| background and to dcc|arc
my pcrsona| afhnitics and aims.
TWO
Two Lives
rcmcmbcr hi mnow as hcappcars i nthc onc photograph I managcd t otakc of
him. I had drawn back into thc shadows ofa doomay, surrcptitious|y focuscd my
tc|cphoto |cns, and caught him as hc |ookcd away. His rcmnant tccth arc ko|a-
staincd, hishairgri::|cd, hisbodystihcncdbyrhcumatism. Hc issittingona rama
mat on thc cdgc ofourporch, supportcdbyhisstavc, and hc is grinning at somc-
thing or somconc outsidc thc hamc. crhaps at au| inc, mywifc-though that is
a dctai| cannot corroboratc.
Jhat I no |ongcr know cxact|y what was happcning outsidc thc hamc ofthc
photograph on that particu|arday and cannot sayforccrtain whcthcr my mcmory
of 5aran 5a|ia is now shapcd by thc photo or by thc man himsc|f is pcrhaps an
obj cct |csson forcthnographcrs | ikc mc, rc|uctant to scc | ivcd cxpcricncc cc|ipscd
bv thc gcncra| i:ations and c|ichcs ofdiscoursc.
Hc and au|inc dicd in thc samc ycar, i U . In i U rctumcd to irawa
to hnd his housc a charrcd ruin-thc housc hc had givcn mc and my fami|y to
uc six ycars bcforc for as |ong as wc staycd in thc vi||agc.
passcd my hrst cvcning a|onc thcrc, fossicking among thc dcbris. 5omc frag-
mcntsoftortoiscshc| | , afcwbrokcnporcupincqui||s, ahandm|ofcowrics, acoup|c
ofcrump|cdhoms, atraccofmicainthcashandrubb|c. thiswasa||thatrcmaincd
of thc hca|ing arts hc practiccd, which had, pcrhaps, dicd with him. I sat on thc
hrc-b|ackcncd porch whcrc wc had spcnt so many hours ta|king togcthcr. irc
hnchcs f|ickcrcd | ikc |ost sou|s in thc guttcd rooms, tapping out-or so I
imagincd-somc mcssagc hom thc aftcr|ifc that I was too dumb to dcciphcr. ' I
stro||cdacross thc abandoncd gardcn wc had madc togcthcrandfoundthc bcdrag-
g|cdpa|mfromwhichhchadcutabunchofbananas-amctaphorforkinship'-to
g|vc us against our j oumcy thc night of our dcparturc from thc vi ||agc. I stood
awhi|c in thc darkncss. Insccts shri||cd in thc grass. I thought if I was paticnt
cnough, if had faith, hc wou|dappcarout ofthc shadows, |caningonhis stavc,
a conspiratoria| grin on his facc, his hand outstrctchcd. . . . There are mny ways
tht a bird can fy in th sky.
In thc dimcu|t wccks that fo||owcd, I oftcn pondcrcd thc way thc o|d
mcdicinc-mastcrhadmctanddca|twithtribu|ationinhis| ifc. Myghostdia|ogucs
with him hc|pcd mc obj ccti my situation and scc that in advcrsity | ifc may bc
amrmcdmorcdccp|ythanatanyothcrtimc. 5aran5a|iaoftcnmadcKuranko initi-
ationcxcmp|i Kuranko socia| |ifc in gcncra|. Jhrough thctcrrors andordca|sof
tntttatton, onc |camcd to facc advcrsity a|onc, to withstand hardship, to |ivc
thrugh it rathcr than hopc to avoid it. 3
In thcfo||owingpagcsI rccountthc |ivcsoftwoKuranko mcn, |cavingimp|icit
thc comparisons thatmay bc madc with myown |ifc. Irmy aim is not to makc
any individua| |ifc a ccntcr of mcaning but to cmphasi:c thc signihcancc ofcrisis
for a thcory ofcu|turc. I wish to show that human |ifc is ncvcr mcrc|y a mattcr
ofapathctic asscntto givcnncss but an activc rc|ationshipwith thc circumstanccs
thatbcfa||apcrson. Lurconccptofcu|turcmust, I arguc, bcmadctoinc|udcthosc
momcnts in socia| |ifc whcn thc customary, givcn, habitua| , and norma| is dis-
ruptcd, outcd, suspcndcd, and ncgatcd, 4 whcncriscs transform thc wor|d hom
an apparcnt|y hxcd and hnishcd sctofru|cs into a rcpcrtoirc ofpossibi|itics, whcn
a pcrson stands out against thc wor|d and, to borrow Marx's vivid imagc, forccs
thc fro:cn circumstanccs to dancc by singing to thcm thcir own mc|ody.5
5uch anotionofcu|turcmay, athrst sight, bcdimcu|ttosustainintraditiona|
socicticswhcrc thc modcm conccption ofposscssivc individua|ismandofthc pcr-
sona| |ifc as a proj cct ofsc|f-making ( Bildung) is not obvious|y constitutivc ofthc
Weltanschuung. In Kuranko, for cxamp|c, thcrc isno wordfor | ifc-story, nogcnrc
ofautobiography, and pcop|c do notordinari|y spcak ofthcir | ivcs as | ivcdagaint
thc cu|tura| grain but rathcr as dcvc|opcd within thc compass of anccstra| va|ucs
and dccrccs. ^s Va|tcrLngputs it, "Youdo not hnd c| imactic | incarp|ots rcady-
formcd in pcop|c's |ivcs" i Uz. i q ) . Mor do you hnd thcm in narrativc pcrfor-
mancc, whcrc digrcssions, fa|sc starts, and thc abscncc ofconsistcnt|ychrono|ogi-
ca|ordcrorp|otc|osurc isoftcnfound |ackson i Uza) . Inconvcntiona|discoursc,
onc'spcrsona|cxpcricnccofinitiation, marriagc, Is|am, i||ncss , andsoonisassimi-
|atcdtothccxpcricnccofothcrs, itistypica| , notuniquc. Jhcpcrsona|| ifc iscon-
tingcnt upon onc's p|acc wi thin a hc|dofsocia|rc|ations, it is not sct apart ordc-
hncd by its transccndcncc.
Many anthropo|ogists arc wont to scc such a traditiona| conccptua|i:ation of
thc pcrsona| | ifc as adescription ofcxpcricntia| rca|ity. rcparcd to acccpt thc dis-
cursivcidiomof"primitivc"pcop|catitsfacc va|uc, thcyrapid|yrcducc individua|
cxpcricncc to thc sharcd |anguagc that articu|atcs it and dismiss subj cctivity as
mcrc|y cpiphcnomcna|. Jhc Ccsta|t notion of thc sc|fas a momcnt or aspcct of
interation is, howcvcr, nomorcbindingordctcrminativcofactua|cxpcricnccthan
isthccontrastcd"modcm"notionofthcsc|fasskin-cncapsu|atcdandautonomous.
both notions arc bcst rcgardcd as mctaphors L|ncy i yz. q-) . Jhcy do not
so much dcscribc thc wor|d as mcdiatc thc gap and rcso|vc thc tcnsion bctwccn
how, on rccction, individua| cxpcricncc inc|incs onc to scc thc wor|d and how,
in its idco|ogica| constructs, onc's cu|turc makcs it out to bc.
^ M L OI L I M L - M^5 J L K ' 5 5 JLKY
In Brawa I rccountcd a |itt|c ofmy fricndship with 5aran 5a|ia 5ano and ofmy
cndcavors to rccord his | ifc-story. 5uch a biography was, I kncw, an artihcc, and
piccing it togcthcrwas madc cvcn morcdimcu|tbccausconcof5aran5a|ia' sc|assi-
hcatory sons, a dogmatic Mus|im on whom thc o|d man dcpcndcd for food and
Two Lives 2 1
shc|tcr, was opposcd to any ta|k of traditiona| fctish mcdicincs. My pcrsistcncc
was hna||y rcwardcd whcn, ovcr a pcriod of scvcra| wccks in car|y 1 979, 5aran
5a|ia sharcd cxpcricnccs and divu|gcd information that both movcd and as-
toundcd mc.
^s a young man hc had scrvcd an apprcnticcship with a tcachcr ( kramoga)
in 5iguiri , Cuinca, and bccomc mastcr ofa Kuranko cu|t namcd for thc powcm|
bush spirit, Kame. In his o|d agc, 5aran 5a|ia spokc of his twcnty-cight ycars
as mcdicinc-mastcr ( besetigi) and Kame-mastcr (Kametigi) with fu|h||mcnt and
nosta|gia.
I was given money, cows, gowns, salt, rice-everthing! Though I ' ve given up now,
people still give me things. But above all I have been given afection [miye] . Even
today, children follow me everywhere ofering to do things for me. Yesterday a young
man came and volunteered to clear my backyard, and young Salia here makes mats
for me. You see why I've never regretted being Kometigi ?
5a|ia, my ncighbor's son, was sitting with us on thc porch. I askcd himwhat
thc o|d man had donc forhim.
"Many things. I cannot tc||youa||. "
"Jc|| mc somc. "
"5aran 5a|ia' s apprcnticc jkmnn| took carc of mc in thc fafei jinitiation
|odgc| . 5aran 5a|ia is my tcachcr. ^ftcr that hc is my fathcr j5a|ia' s own fathcr
was dcad| . I rcspcct him as myfathcr. "
"1cs, but what do you do for him'
"I mcnd thc fcncc around his yard. "
"Hc makcs mats for mc, " 5aran 5a|ia intcrj cctcd, "hnds mc hrcwood, brings
mc hsh hc's caught. Hc givcs mc swcct food' "
I rcmcmbcrcd how i nprcvious ycars I' d oftcn found scvcra| boys s|ccping in
5aran 5a|ia' s housc, scnt by thcir parcnts to bc protcctcd from witchcraft. ^nd
whcncvcr thc bilkorenu uninitiatcd boys) quarrc|cd and scrappcd, 5aran 5a|ia
wou|da|ways bc quick|y on thc sccnc, baw|ingthckidsout, sctt|ingthcdisputc,
a rcspcctcd prcscncc who uscd to rcmind mc strong|y ofmy own bc|ovcd grand-
fathcr.
It had, howcvcr, bccn many ycars sincc hc had practiccd mcdicinc or bccn
activc inthcKame cu|t. bcho|dcntohisMus|im"son"forhisimmcdiatc|ivc|ihood
and u|timatc|yfora dcccntburia| ) , 5aran 5a|iahad bccnob|igcdto rcpudiatcfc-
tish mcdicincs and rcnouncc Kame. It had bccn a hard pricc to pay for sccurity in
his o|d agc.
"Lvcnnow, " hcsaid, "whcn thc xy|ophonistsp|ay Kame music and sing Kame
songs, I hcar it and want to dancc. . . . "
^ snatch of onc of thc Kame songs camc to mind-Sembe, sembe, sembe l,
Kame I, eh Kame wa; n' d min i l nyanta ken yen Crcatpowcr hasKame, chKame;
I havc not, havcyou, itscqua| sccn)-and I wondcrcd vaguc|y ifthco|dmanrucd
thc |oss ofthc powcr and prcstigc hc had oncc cnj oycd as Kometgi.
but 5aran 5a|iatcmpcrcd his rcgrcts with gratitudc toward hisMus|im"sons".
This Alhadj i and this Lahai [Abdulai], they built this house and said: "Father, l ive
here. Father, you're not going to farm any more; you're unable to work. Live here and
rest. Let us fnd your mouth [ i . e. , bring you food] . You are old. Live sweetly now. "
Well, up t o today, everything i s sweet.
5aran5a|iahcsitatcdand |ookcd camcst|yintomy facc. "^syouarc, you|ovc
mc. ^syouarc, I |ovcyou. 1ou|ovcmychi|drcnandmy chi|drcn|ovcyou. 5incc
you havc comc and askcd mc to tc||you a|| I knowhommychi|dhood up to now,
this is what I wi|| tc|| you. "
n thc days that fo||owcd, sitting togcthcr on thc mud-p|astcr porch of5aran
5a|ia' shousc, wc ta|kcd at |cngth about his chi|dhood and youth and ofthc criscs
in car|y |ifc that shapcd his dcstiny. but 5aran 5a|ia spokcofhimsc|fnot as a frcc
agcntbut a|waysaspartofakinshipnctwork.6 Hisfami|ywashissabu, thc"agcncy"
or "mcans" whcrcby hc cxistcd and had idcntity.
Ever since my birth, I am in my elders' hands. To make a far . . . we made that
farm until I donned the clothes of manhood [ i . e. , was initiated] . They favored me.
I was eating sweetly [ i . e. , happy and well cared for at home] . In my elder brother's,
Malfore Sano's hands, I was also eating sweetly.
^s ifunsurc ofwhat hc might say ncxt, 5aran 5a|ia pauscd.
"Vhat did you fcar as a chi|d'" I askcd.
"Oj inn, witchcs, thc mastcrs of thc korte mcdicinc, thc dcad fure] . I fcarcd
thcm grcat|y. Vhcn I was a boy you did not darc go outsidc on thc day a pcrson
had dicd. "
^s 5aran 5a|ia ta|kcd on, rcca||ing thc trcpidation hc'd fc|t as a boy toward
thc mcn's cu|ts and cu|t sacra (sumafannu; |itcra||y, "sccrct things") , I bcgan to
undcrstandthcsignihcanccofinitiationinaKurankoman's| ifc. thcmomcntwhcn
onc's chi|dhood anxictics arc hna||y a||aycd, whcn onc is inductcd into thc cu|ts,
whcn onc sccs into thcir mystcrics and is introduccd to thc magica| mcdicincs
whichgivcfortitudc (yuse gbele; | itcra||y, "ahardhcart") , bravcry ( kerenteye) , sc|f-
conhdcncc ( kalai nyerela; | itcra||y, "bc|icfsc|f in" ) , andncw undcrstanding ( hnkili
kur) . but bcforc wcspokcmrthcrofinitiation, I wantcd to know morc about his
chi|dhood and his parcnts.
Lnc moming, aftcr wc had takcnup our usua| positions-hc in a hammock,
I sittingona ncarbychair-onthc porch ofhis housc, I askcd him what hadbccn
thc unhappicst timc in his boyhood.
His rcp|y was immcdiatc and abrupt. "Jhc day myfathcr dicd. "
It had bccn tcn farm scasonsaftcr his birth. Hismothcrand his c|dcrbrothcr,
Ma|forc, dicd a fcw ycars |atcr, not |ong aftcr his initiation. but his mcmoricsof
thcm a|| wcrc vaguc. "Vhcn thosc oncs dicd, thcy passcd from my mind [an bo
rn n' kuma] . I wcntandchascd aftcrKome. I drcw thc Kome ropcfor twcnty-cight
ycars. "
^s it tumcd out, 5aran 5a|ia had not gonc in pursuit of Kome immcdiatc|y
aftcr his initiation or cvcn aftcr thcdcathsofhismothcrand c|dcrbrothcr. Lcr-
Two Lives 23
tain|yhcwasmorcthanordinari|yfascinatcdbyKame. ^saboyhchadboth fcarcd
it and fc|t it was "somcthing cxtraordinary. " Ouring his initiation hc was |urcd by
thc gifts thc Komc-mastcr rcccivcd and thc powcr hc commandcd. "Vhcn I hrst
saw it I wantcd to bc it, " hc to|d mc. "^s Kometigi, cvcryonc fcars you, but you
fcar no onc bccausc you havc bccn immuni:cdagainst a|| thc harmfu| mcdicincs. "
Vhatactua||ydccidcd 5aran 5a|ia to bccomc a Komc-mastcrwas thc brcakup
of his hrst marriagc.
The time I decided [n' dun t wati mi] was when they took a certain woman away from
me by force [ i . e. , another man ran away with his frst wife with the connivance of
the girl's father] . That man taunted me. "Show me that your iron can cut my iron!"
he said to me. "If you are a man, then do what you will!" I said, "Me!" There and
then I took up the Kame tether. You understand? Whoever sees Kame, dies !
Jwo things struck mc about 5aran 5a|ia' s account. irst, I was imprcsscd by
thc way hc had mastcrcd hisfcarofKame by cmbracing and cmbodying thcobjcct
of that fcar, thc bush spirit itsc|f. It rcmindcd mc ofhow I had |camcd to dca|
with nightmarcs as a chi|d by cu|tivating an indihcrcncc to thcm, |aying mysc|f
opcn to myworstfcars, cha||cngingthc darkdrcamforccsto do thcirdamncdcst. )
Latcr, 5aran 5a|ia was to conhdc that thc imagc of a fcarsomc bush spirit drawn
on a tcthcr by thc Komc-mastcr was a dc|ibcratc hction, mcant to intimidatc
noninitiatcs and womcn. Kame thc bushspirit and thc Komc-mastcrwcrc onc and
thc samc.
Jhis idcntihcation is thc kcy to undcrstanding 5aran 5a|ia' sparticulr attrac-
tiontoKame. bybccomingKometigi hccntcrcdintoandovcrcamcthcdrcadwhich
thc hgurcofKame inspircd in him as a chi|d. ^tthcsamc timc hispowcrfu| posi-
tion as cu|tmastcrcnab|cdhim to rccovcr, undcrthcacgis ofKame, hisown im-
pugncd manhood andpridc.
5aran5a|ia' sproj ccthad thrcc phascs. thc intcma| i:ationofanobj cctivity as
achi|dhcfc|tafraidofKame) , thccxtcma|i:ationofasubj cctivity duringhis initi-
ation hc saw Kame to bc a man-madc obj cct, a cu|tura| artifact) , and thc sc|f-
conscious rcintcma| i:ation of obj cctivity in his own way, in his own ters, for his
own use hc bccamc aKomc-mastcr) . I||owing5artrc, wc might say that his proj -
cct was "a mcdiation bctwccn two momcntsofobj cctivity" 5artrc t U. ) . Jhc
initia|momcntwas whcnKame appcarcdtohimasfacticity, ana|icnrca| itybcyond
his grasp or contro|. Jhc hna| momcnt was whcn Kame bccamc a thing of his
making-a gown h worc, a mask h donncd, a ro|c h assumcd. Lthcr bccamc
sc|f.
Jhough 5aran 5a|ia was conditioncd by his chi|dhood fcars of Kame and
ob|igcd in adu|t | ifc to maintain thc givcn imagc and guard thc traditiona| sccrcts
of thc Kame cult, it is in thc |ast ana|ysis h who bngs Kame into being, not thc
othcrwayaround. ^ uniquc constc||ationofcvcnts-his chi|dhoodanxictics, thc
dcathsofhis parcnts and c|dcrbrothcr, hiswifc' sdcscrtion andhcr |ovcr's j ibcs-
shapcd 5aran 5a|ia's intcrcst in thc Kame cu|t. but hna||y it is upon his dccision
tobccomcKometigi, hispraxi s, thatthccontinuityofthccu|ta a cultural institution
dcpcnds. rom an obj cctivistpointofvicw it oftcn appcars that thc pcrsona| |ifc
is rcducib|c to cu|tura| forms and p|ays |itt|c part in thc crcation ofthcsc foms.
Jhcprcscntcasc suggcsts othcmisc.
Jhc indctcrminatc rc|ationshipbctwccnpcrsona|cxpcricnccandcu|tura|form
|cads us to thc sccond striking fcaturc of 5aran 5a|ia' s account. thc imp|ication
that hc may havc uscd his position as Kometigi to prosccutc a pcrsona| vcndctta.
Mot |ong aftcr hc bccamc Kometigi, his crrantwifc,hcr |ovcr, and hcr fathcr
dicd. Jhough I prcsscd him on thc mattcr, 5aran 5a|ia wou|d ncithcr admi tnor
dcny thathc haddc| ibcratc|y uscd his powcr asKometigi or his know|cdgcofmagi-
ca| mcdicincs to ki|| thcm |ackson i U. i Uz) . 5incc ki||ing by sorccry is tanta-
mount to murdcr in Kuranko |aw, I thought his cvasivcncss might bc a way of
avoiding incriminating himsc|f. but thcn I rcca||cd what 5aran 5a|ia had to|d mc
on othcr occasions about his |ifc|ong invo|vcmcntwith traditiona| mcdicincs and
I rcviscd my vicws ( 1 7 -yy) .
Jhcrc arc thrcc branchcs of traditiona| Kuranko mcdicinc. curativc, prophy-
|actic andprotcctivc,and|ctha|. Lurativc mcdicinc (dandan bese) ismain|yhcrba|,
andthcknow|cdgcof|cavcsandthchca|ingartscanbcacquircdbymcnorwomcn
without any spccia| training. Jhc othcrbranchcs of mcdicinc arc ma|c prcscrvcs
andinvo|vcsccrctknow|cdgcandspccia|istinstruction. Jhchrstinc|udcsthcmak-
ing and dispcnsing of protcctivc fctishcs (kandn li fannu; |itcra||y, "cnc|osing
things"), spc||s (hye ) , and antidotcs ( yobe) to thc various |ctha| substanccs uscd
insorccry. Jhcsccondinc|udcsthc makinganddispcnsingoffour|ctha|mcdicincs
( korte, koli, nyenkfori, gboye) and thc usc ofthc cursc (gbole) . Lvcry mcdicinc-
mastcr ( besetigi) is traincd in a|| thcsc branchcs of mcdicinc and is ab|c to trcat
thc two kinds of i||ncss distinguishcd in Kuranko noso|ogy. alt/a kiraiye arising
hom "natura| causcs", | itcra||y, "Cod i||ncsscs") and mogof' kiraiye arising from
sorccp, |itcra||y, "b|ackcvi| pcrson i||ncsscs") .
5aran 5a|ia chosc, howcvcr, to practicc on|y thc hrst two branchcs ofmcdi-
cinc. curativc andprophy|acticprotcctivc. In othcr words, hc forsworc using his
know|cdgc of|ctha| mcdicinc for pcrsona|cndsandrcmscdtoputhisski||s atthc
disposa| of othcrs wishing to avcngc s|ights or rcdrcss inj usticcs by undcrhandcd
mcans. Jhisisnottosaythatpcop|chavcn' tdicdasaconscqucnccofhiscommand
ofmagica| mcdicincs. Lncchc conhdcdthathchad"ncvcruscdmcdicincstoki||,
butthoscthattcstcd mc didnot|ivc |ong. " butwhatthismcantwasthathismas-
tcryofantidotcsand prophy|acticsmadchim immunc tosorccryso thatwhcncvcr
somconc tricd to harm himthc magica| mcdicincs were turd back upon thc uscr,
amicting him in thc samc way an unprotcctcd victim wou|d havc bccn afictcd.
romthcoutsct,5aran 5a|ia'scommandofpowcrm|mcdicincs,| ikc hiscom-
mandofKame, gavchimfcar|cssncss ( kilnbelteye) andsc|f-posscssion ( miran) . but,
|ikc thccxponcnts ofLastcmmartia|arts,hc camc to scc thatthcpropcrcxcrcisc
ofpowcr is not in using itto gain an advantagc ovcrothcrsbut in containing it,
ho|ding it undcr contro| . 5c|f-mastcry, in thc Kuranko vicw, is thc bcginning of
socia|adroi tncss (hankili ) . 1ct5aran 5a|ia's choicctopracticcon|ythchca| ingarts
and cschcw thc dcstructivc arts ofsorccry was by no mcans fortuitous. It was a
mattcr ofpcrsona| j udgmcnt, a dccisionfor protccting thc vu|ncrab|c and curing
Two Lves 25
thc sick rathcr than sc|| ing his scrviccs to thc cnvious andaggricvcd, a dccision
]o hc|ping his communi ty rathcr than using his powcrs to prosccutc privatc vcn-
dcttas.
Jhc gcrmofthcscdccisions is containcd in thcwordbese itsc|f, which is thc
gcncric tcrm for a|| mcdicincs, thcrapcutic, prophy|actic, and |ctha|. Bse is thus
ambiguous, | ikc thc Crcck word phmkon. In his rcading of |ato's Phdr,
Ocrrida obscrvcs.
This phrkn, this "medicine, " this philter, which acts as both remedy and pison
. . . introduces i tself into the body of the discourse with all its ambivalence. This
charm, this spellbinding virtue, this power of fascination, can be-alterately or
simultaneously-benefcent or malefcent. " ( I 98 I : 70) . 7
Ocrridagocs ontonotc thcmctaphorica|usc ofthc tcmphmkon inthc5ocratic
dia|oguc as signiing that which scduccs, which |cads onc bcyond thc wor|d of
facc- to-facc rc|ationships, bcyond thc "shc|tcrcd cnc|osurc" ofonc' s communi ty.
Ir5ocratcsthismovcmcntisthoughtofasoncfromspccchtowriting, atransgrcs-
sioninwhichopcnncssgivcswaytothcoccu|tandsociabi| ityiscc|ipscdbysorccry.
Jhc Kuranko tcrm bese suggcsts a simi |ar sctoftcnsions, summaritcd mctaphori-
ca||y in tcrms ofthc contrastcdwor|ds ofvi||agc and bush thc known vcrsus thc
unknown, thc mora| vcrsus thc amora| , thc communa| vcrsus thc sc|f- intcrcstcd) .
havc cxp|orcd thisdia|ccticofvi ||agc and bushc|scwhcrc |ackson i Uza) . Hcrc
am conccmcdon|yto p|acc 5aran 5a|ia' sproj cct in its cu|tura| contcxt, topoint
out that his cu|tivation ofbese in its thcrapcutic andsocia||yconstructivcaspccts
cntai|cd a choiccwhichwas atthcsamc timca rcso|utionofthc pcrcnnia|tcnsion
ofKuranko |ifc bctwccn acting within thc common grain or against it.8
In his dcc|iningycars, 5aran 5a|iarcmaincdfaithfu| to his vision. arcntsscnt
thcirchi|drcn tohimfor protcctionagainstwitchcraft. Mcncamc tohimfor anti-
dotcsandprophy|acticsagainstsorccry. Hcsortcdoutthcpcttyquarrc|softhc vi|-
|agc boys. Hc spcnthours in thchcatofthcdaygoing on his rounds to scc that
thc chicfsbanon coking hrcswasbcingobscrvcd. Vhcn I andmyfami|y visitcd
irawa in car|y i y hc gavc us his housc. In his |ong |ifc hc marricd thricc and
oncc inhcritcd a wifc. His wivcs dicdyoung, so toodidthrcc ofhisfourchi|drcn.
Much of his | ifc hc had |ivcd a|onc. Hc had bccomc a kind offathcr to othcrs,
shc|tcringandprotcctingncighborsfromthcsinistcrdcsignsofaninscrutab|cwor|d
and giving hospita|ity to a curious whitc strangcr whosc purposcs ncvcr ccascd to
amusc him.
JhcKuranko spcak ofinitiation asthctimcachi|dis c|canscd ofitschi|dish
proc|ivitics, tamcd, madcsocia||yski||cd, transformcd into a sc|f-containcd, com-
p|ctc pcrson. 5aran 5a|ia rcmcmbcrcd his initiation as onc ofthc happicst timcs
in his |ifc, whcn hc cast ohthcc|othcs ofa chi|d and puton thc gown ofa man.
but I cannot hc|pthinking that his pcrsonhood was achicvcdnot j ustbyundcrgo-
ingthcordca|sof forma| initiation ( biriye) , notj ustbypassingthroughthc sctpas-
sagc ofa communa| ritc, hispcrsonhoodwas achicvcd through what hc chosc to
makcofthc advcntitiousandtraumatic cvcnts thatovcmhc|mcd him inhis chi|d-
hood and youth. It was thcgownofKame, a gownhc oftcn spokc ofas an a||y,
a doub|c, as much as thcgbangbal gown of initiation that cnab|cd him to comc
into his own. t was a gown hc donncd, a ro|c hc assumcd in his own way, in
his own sty|c. ^nd it is this sty|c, now that hc is dcad, that rcmcmbcrmost.
^ 5 JLK1 J L L L L K ' 5 5 JLK1
scc him now-assurcd, risib|c, indcfatigab|c-spc||bindingus inacrowdcd, win-
dow|css room. In thc pcnumbra of a hurricanc |amp scribb|c notcs and adj ust
my tapc rccordcr. Jhc man bchind mc j crks to onc sidc and ordcrs a sma|| boy
to givc mc morc spacc. Jhc fctor of thc room is suhocating. bcforc thc night is
out, Kcti crcnkc Koroma wi|| tc|| mc hc knows morc storics than I havc tapcs
to rccord thcm. Hc wi|| cha||cngc mc to stay on aftcr thc othcrs havc driftcdoh.
but wcarincss wi|| dcfcatmc and too wi|| wcndmyway homc through thc dark-
ncssofthc vi||agc andfa|| as|ccp, drcaminga|rcadyofthcfantastichgurcs and im-
agcs hc has sccdcd in my mind.
^t hrst mccting no onc cou|d havc sccmcdmorc un|ikc thc tcntativc, wry,
and sc|f-chacing 5aran 5a|ia. but Kcti crcnkc attractcd mc j ust as thc o|d
mcdicinc-mastcr had. ^ bom racontcur, hc cncouragcd my intcrcst in Kuranko
ora| narrativcs and was a|ways wi| |ing to arrangc a storytc|| ing scssion in his
Kondcmbaia housc or, ifncccssary, travc| twcnty mi|cs tomyhousc inKaba|ato
rccord myths.
His intc||cctua| adroitncss and wit madc him thc pcrfcct informant. Lritiquc
sccmcdsccondnaturctohi m. Hcwou|dncvcrcxp|ain socia|usagcsawaybysaying
simp|y that thcy wcrc anccstra||y givcn,9 but wou|d addrcss thcm as mattcrs to bc
cxpatiatcdon, di|cmmas to bc rcso|vcd. Lra|narrativc ( tli ) wasthcpcrfcct vchi-
c|c for his intc||cctua| curiosity. 5incc thc gcnrc was ostcnsib|y makc-bc|icvc, a
form ofcntcrtainmcnt, hccou|dcunning|y concca| his scrious andoftcn provoca-
tivc opinions in thcm. Morcovcr, hc cou|d crcatc storics himsc|f and pass thcm
oh as part of thc traditiona| corpus. In Kcti crcnkc I discovcrcd a man with a
critica| and ironic scnsc ofhisown cu|turc, somconc whosc crcativc bcnt accom-
modatcdorthodox vicws yct a|ways rcmaincdsubt|yapartfrom thcm.
supposc itwasincvitab|c that sooncror |atcr wou|daskhim to tc|| mc thc
story of his |ifc. but whcn hc did rccount his own story in cbruary 1 972 it was
with such a|acrity, and in such an unabashcd|y pcrsona| way, that I was takcn
aback. 5omcthingc|scsurpriscdmc too. ccrtainuncannypara||c| ismsbctwccnthc
cvcnts which had dccp|y inucnccd thc coursc of his |ifc and thc cvcnts which
hadhgurcdsoccntra||yin5aran5a|ia's| ifc. 1ctthcsc|ivcscou|dnotbyanystrctch
ofthcanthropo|ogica| imaginationbcrcduccdto cu|tura|dctcrminants. Lachman
had addrcsscd his cxpcricnccs in his own way, and thoughboth cxcmp|ihcd con-
vcntiona| va|ucs this was not a conscqucncc of mind|css conformity but a rcsu|t
ofwhatthcyhadsc|f-conscious|ymadcofwhatthcyhadsuhcrcd.
lcrc, thcn, is Kcti crcnkc's story in his own words.
My mother hailed from Kamadugu Sukurela. My [materal] great-grandfather, 10 Lai
Bunda, came before" my [materal] grandfather, Yerewa Bile. My grandfather Yerewa
Two Lives
Bile' s mother, Yerewa, hai led from Sambaia Bendugu. Yerewa Fule and Samaia Fule
my great-grandfathers shared them.
1
1
They took Sara Fula and married her to my great-grandfather Kundembe Koroma.
She bore Sara Magba, and Sara Magba was the father of our present chief Seku.
Our great-grandmother Yerewa Fula was married to our great-grandfather Lai Bundo
of Kamadugu Sukurela. They had Yerewa Bile. Yerewa Bile married Sinkari Sira from
Farandugu. He brought her to Kamadugu Sukurela. Sinkari Sira's eldest daughter was
my own mother, Sira Keti . My other mother was Sira Sayon, Sinkari Sira's second
daughter. The third daughter was Banda Kuma. Banda Kuma came before Mantile
[Manti Lai] . Manti Lai came before Muru Lai, who was also called Mera Sira. Mera
Sira was the last daughter; she married Manti Tamba.
Now of my mother Keti . My grandfather Tina Frenke went and found her. She
was to have been the old man's wife. At that time my grandfather Tina Frenke was
Paramount Chief. He brought her to Kondembaia. But he was very old, and he said:
27
"Since I am so old I bequeath her to my chi ldren. " He gave her to the erstwhile chief
Bala, though Bala was not chief at that time. Not long after, Tina Ferenke died. My
father, Samaran Bala, contested the chieftaincy. But he was advised to bide his time
and allow Sara Magba to become chief. So the chieftaincy was given to my grandfa
ther Sara Magba. He had many children. Everyone was aware of what a tremendous
thing chieftaincy is.
Then my grandfather Sara Magba died. Once again my father, Samaran Bala, raised
his hand and declared his candidacy. He won the chieftaincy. But before he became
chief he said, "I have many wives but my younger brother has none. Therefore I will
give my brother the woman that my father gave to me. " He took my mother Keti and
gave her to his younger brother, Kona Sumban. At that time no one knew about me.
I did not know about the world. I did not even know where I was. 1 3
Our father, Samaran Bala, won the chieftaincy. Those whose eyes were open on
these events included the other sons of my grandfather Tina Ferenke-my fathers Tara
Kona, Samaran Sefle, and Kona Sumban. They were the ones that our eyes opened
upon. Our grandfather Tina Ferenke may have had many children, but we do not know
them; we only know of those that our eyes opened upon.
1
4
When my mother married my father Kona Sumban they had their frst child, my
elder sister [Tina] . My fathers sat down and said: "Eh, our father did not have any
daughters and so could not name one of his chi ldren after his own mother. Yet he
gave this woman in marriage to us. Now that she has given birth to her frst-bor
daughter, we should name the child after our father's mother, Tina. " So my elder sister
was named after our grandfather's mother, Tina Sise. They called her Tina Sise because
our grandfather's mother, Tina, was of the Sise clan. Thus our grandfather was the
child of a Sise woman.
My elder sister Tina was weaned and my elder sister Kulako took the breast. When
she was weaned, I, Keti Ferenke, took the breast. Then I was weaned and my younger
brother Bile took the breast. But Kulako and Bile both died. I am the only one alive-I
and my elder sister Tina. Kulako and Bile have gone ahead of us. I live in Kondembaia
for no other reason than that I was bor here.
Lpto thispointKcticrcnkc has spokcn a|mostcntirc|yintcrmsofgcnca|ogi -
ca| ti mc. Hisgcncration and birth arc p|accdwithin thc hc|dofcognaticti cs. His
idcntity is assimi|atcd into a univcrsc of givcns. h|iation, birth-ordcr-position,
""'eb /
0 Sam 0 lna Sis lai Bune

0
Yerewa Fule
Koroma (Sambia l
(Kondemba) Benugu)
Sa Ma Tna Ferenke 0
S1ra Ke11
,-- 1
_
, ___ ,
Yerea Bile 0 Smkari S1ra
Koma
(Kndmbaia)
Seu Mab
Koma
(pesent Paramont
Chif of Diang)
Saa ran
Bala
Taa Samara
Kana Selile
FcMonb
6 '
-
(Tonoma, near
Yenema)
Tna
`
Kana Sira
Sumbn Sayon
` c /
Kulako Keti Bile
Ferenke
Bana
Kuma
Geneal ogi cal Chan of Keti Ferenke Koroma
(Faranugu)
`
Mantile Muru lai
(als calle (also calle
Mant1 la) MemaSira)
---+ bequeathe
(Konemba1a) provenance
Mnti
Tamb
namc. low, howcvcr, hc bcgins to spcak ofhis | ifc in tcrms ofbiographica|timc.
Hc rccounts pcrsona| cxpcricnccs, tc||sofa singu|ar dcstiny.
That is how I was bor. My mother Keti and my father Kana Sumban were together
until we were all bor. Then I began to become aware of things around me. One of
my frst memories is of my elder father taking my elder sister and giving her in marriage
to Fade Menba Mori. When she married Fde Menba Mori she moved fom here and
went and settled in Tongoma, near Yengema . . . .
Then my [materal) grandmother died in Kamadugu Sukurela. We went there for
the fneral .
On our way back to Kondembaia my mother sai d, "Now, Ferenke, we have come
fom your grandmother's fneral but your elder sister is not here. I want you to go
and tell her what has happened. Tell her to come. " But my mother had a severe head
ache. I said, "Heh, I'm not going. You're not well. I' ll go when you are better. Now,
with you unwell, I don' t want to go. " But my mother said, "Go, " and I had to accept
it. "Yeh, " I said, "that is that. "
I left Kondembaia on the twenty-ninth of the month before Ramadan. " I entered
Alkalia on the frst day of Ramadan.
1
6 I went on to Tongoma. When I reached
Tongoma I told my elder sister Tina about the death. My brother-in-law [numgo) said,
"Now this is the fast month. You must wait here until the fast month ends, then you
can go home. I will say goodbye to you when I've fnished my prayers. You can go
then. " So I stayed.
I was totally unaware that the headache my mother was sufering from when I left
had now become worse. In the middle of the fast month my mother Keti died. She
Two Uves
died while I was away. I knew nothing of it. But my father was with her till the end.
O the last day of the fast month-it was a Friday-my father went to pray. The
women had already coked rice for the prayer-day. On his way to the prayer-ground
(selikenem) , he began to tremble. The Muslims were already at their prayers, si tting
in rows. At that time my younger brother Bile was still alive. He went and supported
my father and said, "Father, you cannot go and pray, you are trembling. Let us go
back home. " But my father said, "Leave me be, let us go, nothing will happen to me. "
As my younger brother let him go, he began trembling again. The prayers ceased. Peo
ple said, "This man has a fever. " They took my father home. But he died that day.
It was a terrible thing. From Friday, through Saturday, until Sunday no one could bury
him because his death had been so sudden and strange. 17
29
At that time my father's elder brother was Paramount Chief, but the white men
had summoned him to Freetown. 1 8 He was in Freetown when his brother died. He
was told of his brother's death as he was on his way back home. He told the District
Commissioner what had happened. The D. C. gave him his own wo nni. 1 9 Then
my elder father came on here and met the burial party. Everyone was cring. They
were crying for me because I was the eldest son. I had gone to my elder sister to tell
her of our grandmother's death, and my mother had died. Then, on the last day of
the same month, my father had died. Bth of them had died while I was away. It
was a terrible thing, a strange thing. Everone was cring. They said, "Ferenke has
not come yet, Ferenke has not come yet, Ferenke has not come yet, Frenke has not
come yet. " I was still in Tongoma. My heart was beating loudly, loudly, loudly, loudly.
Then I said, "Let me go home. " My brother-in-law said goodbye and I started of.
From Tongoma, as far as Diang Sukurela, I heard nothing of the deaths. They kept
the news fom me. No one I met told me anything about the deaths. I arrived home
and suddenly found myself in the middle of the funeral rites. There was nothing I could
do. What Allah had destined had happened.
I knew that my father was the man who brought me into the world, but my elder
father was the one who was now respnsible for me. I knew he would take care of
us. My father had gone, but the man who had been married to my mother before him
chief Bala-was still alive. So I was not broken-hearted. I have found no fault with
my elder father. He has found wives for me, and I now have my own children. He
sends me on errands, but he has never wronged me. I do what I want. Indeed, I feel
my father never died. Even had he lived, both he and I would have been in chief
BaJa's hands. So my heart is at peace.
That is how I was bor. I have explained it all-my father's side and my mother's
side. I have explained i t all to you. Some of it you will forget, some you will not forget.
You asked me to tell you abut my life. That is i t.
Kcti crcnkc wasabouttcnor c|cvcn ycars o|dwhcnhisparcnts dicd. Jhirty
ycars |atcr, rccounting thosc traumatic cvcnts to mc in 1 972, his attitudc sccmcd
rcsigncd, a|mostfata|istic. ItwasacharactcristicKurankowayofta|king.onc' s|uck
in |ifc dcpcndcd upon cxtcma| circumstanccs and innatc dispositions, onc' s fatc
(sawura) was hxcd. 1ct this is on|y a partia| vicw, morc typica| ofhow Kuranko
cxp|ain things in rctrospcct than how thcy actua||y |ivc.
In convcrsation, Kcti crcnkc oftcn boastcd to mc ofhis intc| | igcncc. lt was
thisfacu|tyofinsight andundcrstanding ( hnkilimiye) that cnab|cdhimto crcatc
and tc|| storics with such ski|| and vcrvc. but his intc||igcncc "camc hom ^||ah, "
andso toodidthc inspiration for hisstorics. lowcvcr, inthcKuranko vicw onc's
mora|worth is u|timatc|y contingcnt uponthc attitudc onctakcsup toward such
innatc cndowmcnts, what onc docs with what onc has. Jhus, a|though Kcti
crcnkc attributcs his crcativc gcnius and inspiration to ^||ah, hc acknow|cdgcs
that thc dcvc|opmcnt ofthc idcas hc "rcccivcs" for storics is his rcsponsibi|ity, a
mattcrofhis ownwork. Jhc compositionofhis narrativc, "Jhc ^buscofthc Ki||-
ingWord" |ackson i Uza. t q-y) , is instructivc. Jhcgcrmina| idca, ofhowthc
powcr of |ifc and dcath camc to bc in ^||ah`s hands , not human hands, simp|y,
as hc put i t, camc into his hcad. 5ubscqucnt|y, working on his farm, |ounging in
hishammock at homc, hc tricd to comc up with a p|ausib|c andfami |iarsituation
that wou|d rca|i:c thc idca. Jo bc surc, many c|cmcnts in this story arc dcrivcd
from thc traditiona| rcpcrtoirc, and thc structurc, | ikc thc mora| conc|usions, arc
fair|yconvcntiona|. but thc composition of thc story, |ikc thc pcrformancc of i t,
is a mattcr of individua| j udgmcnt, ofsc|f-conscious work.
^ pcrson ishc|drcsponsib|cformanagingthcreltonship bctwccninncrdispo-
sitions andoutwardbchavior, bctwccnwhat, in Kuranko tcrms , is"found" or"cn-
countcrcd"andwhatis"madc. "Jhisdia|ccticbctwccngivcncndowmcnts, proc|iv-
itics , and stricturcs an choscn attitudcs and modcs of comportmcnt |ics at thc
hcart ofKuranko cthics |ackson t Uza. z t - i ) . Kcti crcnkc a||udcs to it in this
wrycommcntonhisstorytc||ing."Icou|dncvcrstopthinkingofstorics, yctI cou|d
stop mysc|ftc||ing thcm. If I am askcd to tc|| a story, I cannot stop thinking of
onc to tc| | , butI canstop mysc|ftc||ing it. " Inshort, though it isprcdcstincd that
hc composc storics, hc can dcny or mask this inc|ination if socia| propricty dc-
mands it.
^ kind ofparadox ariscs hcrc. Jhough thcsocia| ordcrwascrcatcd by^||ah
andthc "hrst pcop|c" (ol' morgonnu) |ong ago, it is rccapitu|atcdon|ybydintof
purposcfu| human activity inthchcrc andnow. Jhcanccstra| va|ucsuponwhich
thc Kuranko sct suchgrcatstorcdonotcomc intobcing, gcncrationaftcrgcncra-
tion, of thcir own accord. ^t thc samc timc that it is ncccssary to p|ay up thc
vita| ro|c ofcach individua| inthc constructionofsocia|rca|ity during initiation,
for instancc) it is a|so ncccssary to p|ay down that ro|c |cst thc omnipotcncc of
^||ahandthcanccstorsbcca||cdintoqucstion. Jhcpowcrsofindividua|initiativc
and praxis ( associatcd with thc bush) arc thus rcgardcd ambiva|cnt|y bccausc,
though thc socia|ordcr associatcdwiththc vi||agc) dcpcndson such powcrs, thcy
a|socontradictthconto|ogica|prioritygivcntothcco||cctivity. Jhcvcrycxistcncc
of thc human subj cct as onc who "stands out" or "cmcrgcs" must bc cc|ipscd by
a conccption ofthc subj cct as onc who is a part of, not apart from, thc group.
Kcti crcnkc rcso|vcsthisparadox inthrcc ways. irst, thoughhc is thc author
of his own storics hc attributcs thcir inspiration to a transccndcnt rathcr than a
pcrsona| sourcc. 5ccond, hc a||ows his storics to pass into tradition without any
acknow|cdgmcntorcommcmorationofthcirorigins in his cxpcricnccas asingu|ar
individua| . Jhird, in his storics hc is carcfu| to cxto| individua| initiativc and
choicc on|y in rc|ation to communa| va|ucs and convcntiona| wisdom.
In thcsc waysthcstorics bccomc a ki ndofsymbo|ic capita| , a commonmnd,
disguising thcirorigins inpcrsona| cxpcricncc and crcativc work. but thc disguisc
Two Lives 3 1
oftcn s|ips, as in Kcti crcnkc's rcmarks rcvca| ing thc dia|cctic bctwccn cu|tura|
forms and individua| praxis.
To start with, my great-great-grandfather was a chief. Down to my grandfather, they
were all chiefs. Until my father, they were all chiefs. Now, when you are br into
a rling house you will be told many things. If you are a fool you'll be none the wiser,
but if you are clever you will scrutinize everything. And when you lie down, you will
think over certain things. If you do this, it is good. This is how I think of things.
Though it is only Allah that gives thought to a person.
When you are told something, it is good if it stays in your mind. What I have to
say about the stories is this: I only think of them. They j ust come into my mind, j ust
like that. I am not asleep. I am not in a dream. But when I think of them, I put
them all together into a story.
In his | ifc-story, Kcti crcnkc convcycd a stoica| , a|most fata|istic attitudc.
onc'sdcstiny is in thc handsofothcrs. In his hctionsandconvcrsations, howcvcr,
hisattitudc isquitcdihcrcnt. oncshou|dtakcnothingfor grantcd, acccptnothing
at itsfaccva|uc, bcwary andawarc ofcvcrythingand cvcryonc, scrutini:c, rcf|cct
upon, scc bcyond thc immcdiatc appcarancc ofthings. Jimc and again hc harks
back to thc notion ofhnkilimaiye intc||igcncc, insightm|ncss, adroitncss, gump-
tion, wit, nous) as thc bcst safcguard against bcing dcccivcd orfoo|cd.
I t is this prcoccupation with intc||igcncc that cxp|ains his activc |cadcrship
of thc Due or Doe) |odgc in Kondcmbaia, his homctown, a |odgc hc dcscribcs
as "an association of intc||igcnt pcop|c. "
Jhc |cadcrofthc |odgc isca||cdthc Do krmorgo ( Do tcachcr) orDobe, and
mcmbcrs arc known as Dodnnu on an ana|ogy with Sisibe, brooding hcn, and
Sisidnnu, hatchcd chickcns) , and a spccia| |anguagc of transposcd sy||ab|cs and
mudd|cd vowc|s cnab|cs initiatcs to communicatc with cachothcr in pub|ic with-
out noninitiatcs knowing what thcy arc saying. Lodc words, spccia| handshakcs
and grcctings a|so form part of thc caba|istic |orc of thc |odgc, and initiatcs arc
taught various vcrba| and intcrrogatory tcchniqucsfordivining thc hiddcn intcn-
tions of strangcrs. Initiatcs a|so amusc thcmsc|vcs with wirc-pu::|cs and ridd|cs,
and Kcti crcnkc took grcatdc|ight in tcasing mc with such conundrums as"How
many pcop|c arc thcrc in thc wor|d' " and "How many stcps docs a pcrson takc
in thc coursc ofa day' "
Kcti crcnkc's prcoccupation with thc dihcrcncc bctwccn rca|ity and appcar-
ancc wasparticu|ar|ycvidcnt in hisattitudc towomcn. ossib|yhisnumcrouscau-
tionary ta|cs against mcn bcingdcccivcdbywomcn's wi|cs rccct thc criscs inhis
own marriagcs.
'
His hrst wifc hai|cd from Kamadugu 5ukurc|a, his mothcr's homctown. Kcti
crcnkconccdcscribcdto mc how, whcnhiswifcwasfourto sixmonthsprcgnant
with thcir hrst chi|d, shc pcstcrcd him to makc |ovc to hcr. Jhcy wcrc |i ving on
thcirfarmand Kcti crcnkc wasduc to makc a tripbackto Kondcmbaia. His wifc
bcggcd him not to go and tricd to pcrsuadc him to stay and s|ccp with hcr. Kcti
crcnkc' s rcmsa| was in a scnsc j ustihcd, thc Kuranko say that scxua| intcrcoursc
duringprcgnancy cndangcrs thc | ifc ofthc fctus. Hc madc his trip to Kondcmbaia
as p|anncd, |caving hiswifc in goodhca|th. but|atcrthatmonthshcfc|| i|| and,
duringhcr i||ncss, confcsscdtohavingtricdto ki||Kcti crcnkc bywitchcraft. 5hc
said shc'dfc|thumi|iatcdand shamcdwhcnKcticrcnkchadrcmscd to s|ccp with
hcr. 5hc had cn| istcd thc support ofa covcn ofwitchcs-"armics ofthc night"-
andtricdto harm him. Whcn thc covcn fai|cdtohnd him thcwitchcstumcdupon
hcrand bcat hcr with b|ows upon hcr back. Kcticrcnkc rcca||cd that during hcr
i||ncss shc had bccn unab|c to sit up straight and hadsuhcrcd scvcrc back pains.
Jhc cvcning aftcr shc had confcsscd to witchcraft shc had a miscarriagc shc had
bccn prcgnant with twins) . Kcti crcnkc's fathcr, chicf5amaran ba|a, suggcstcd
thcy takc hcr back to Kondcmbai a, but shc dicd that night.
It is tcmpting to scc Kcti crcnkc's insistcncc on thc nccd for vigi|ancc and
forcthought in thc | ight ofthcsc traumatic cvcnts. ^ppcaranccs arc mis|cading,
rc|ationshipsarchck|c, andthctruthisc|usivcandhiddcn. hcdcvc|opsthcscidcas
in scvcra| narrativcs which strcss thc nccd to know thc background to cach and
cvcrycvcnt, tograspthcrca|itybcncathandbcyondthcimmcdiacyofthings|ack-
son i Uza. narrativcs t and i ) .
Kcti crcnkc rc|ics upon two narrativc stratagcms t ocxp|orc this vicw. Jhc
hrst isto privi|cgcfricndship ( dienye) ovcrkinship (nkelinyorgoye) andsocmpha-
si:c choscn ovcr givcn tics. Whi|c kinship imp|ics idcntihcations and ob|igations
that arc immutab|c and incontrovcrtib|c, thc bonds offricndship arc ad hoc and
ncgotiab|c scc |ackson t Uza. t z-U) . Jhus, to discuss prob|cms of mutua|ity,
|oya|ty, trust, and intcgrity in tcrms of hicndship rathcr than kinship is to strcss
thc critica| ro|c of individua| disccmmcnt and gumption in thc construction ofa
viab|csocia|ordcr. Jhcsccondstratagcmistoprivi|cgcmindovcrsocicty, tostrcss
a pcrson's intc||igcncc rathcr than his or hcr socia| position. Hcrc too thc focus
onhowoncuscsonc' shcadrathcrthanononc'ssocia||ydctcrmincdidcntity hc|ps
tobringhomcthcsignihcanccofindividua|praxisinthcconstructionofthcsocia|
ordcr. n Kcti crcnkc' s casc it is difhcu|t not to scc this bias as a rcf|cction of
his own pcriphcra| position in a ru|ing | incagc. Hc has uscd hiswits-|ikc his in-
vo|vcmcntinthcDu |odgc-asakindofcompcnsationforhismargina|ity toposi -
tionsofsccu|arpowcr. I think this is bomc outin thc fo||owing commcnts.
We say kin wo and kin wo [near homophones] . They are not one [the frst means
"beehive, " the second "elder"] . If you hear kin [elder] , he knows almost everthing.
But if you hear kin [beehive] , it does not know anything. The elder could be found
in the younger and the younger could be found in the elder.
Even if a person is a child, but behaves like an elder, then he is an elder. If he
thinks like an elder, then he is an elder. Even if a person is old and senior, if he behaves
like a child then he is a child. Therefore, this matter of seniority comes not only fom
the fact that one is bor frst, or fom the fact that one is big and strong; i t also con
cers the manner in which a person behaves and does things. For example, you will
see some old men who have nothing; they are not called "big men" [mogo ba, "elders") .
But some young men have wealth; because of that they are called mogo b. Therefore,
whatever Allah has put in your head, that will make you what you are. I am speaking
now, but some of these words of wisdom [kum ke) which I am explaining to you
are not known by everone. You may ask a man and he may know of them. But I
Two Lives
have explained them. Therefore, am I not the elder? There are some elders who know
of these things, but I have explained them. Therefore, if you hear the word kin you
should know that it is hnkili [intelligence) that really defnes it.
33
Inhisnarrativcs, Kcticrcnkc cxaggcratcsthcimportanccofindividua|praxis
ovcrinhcritcdposition, notj ustasawayofrationa| i:inghisownmargina|situation
but bccausc hc sccs that though thc foundations of thc socia| ordcr arc givcn by
anccstra| hat thc constrction ofthat ordcr is prob|cmatic, it dcmands thc activc,
intc||igcntcngagcmcntofindividua|s. Jhis rcfusa| to takc socia|rca|ityforgrantcd,
as somcthing madc by othcrs or at othcr timcs, cxp|ains thc scathing attacks in
many of his storics on shortsightcdncss, stupidity, and dogmatism. ^ chicf who
uscs hisauthorityforsc|hshcnds, a Mus|im:ca|otwho sccs|itt|c bcyond his bcads
andbook, a fathcrwhosc grccd makcs him ncg|igcntofhis chi|drcn, awoman ob-
scsscd with scx, a man whosc avaricc b|inds him to thcnccdsofhis c|oscsthicnd.
thcsc arc thc buttsofhissatirc. Itis ncithcrthc s|avishadhcrcncc to givcn norms
nor thc unbrid|cd cxprcssion ofsc|f-intcrcst that makcs for a viab|c socia| ordcr,
but considcrcd acts informcd by j udgmcnt and undcrstanding.
I l^ L K L L L LJI Ll 5
Kcticrcnkc Koroma and 5aran 5a|ia5anohavcmuch incommonbcsidcsasharcd
cu|turc. thc tragic |ossofthcirparcnts inchi|dhood, troub|cdmarriagcs, a margin-
a|ity to sccu|ar powcr, and |cadcrship of important Kuranko cu|ts. Bth mcn cs-
pousc traditiona| va|ucs yct rcgard thc articu|ationofthosc va|ucs as prob|cmatic,
somcthing to bc dccidcd anddonc rathcr than simp|yasscntcdto. Jo somc cxtcnt
this prob|cmatic ariscs from thc ambiguity at thc hcart ofa|| socia| cxistcncc. thc
indctcrminatcrc|ationshipbctwccnthc cvcntm|ncssanduxofonc'sown | ifc and
thc sccming|yho:cnforms ofthc ongoingcu|tura| tradition.
Jhc mcdicincs uscd by 5aran 5a|ia and thc intc|| igcncc vauntcd by Kcti
crcnkc arc cthica||y ambiguous, opcn to usc for a pcrsona| advantagc or for thc
commonwca|. Lach man has had to work to harmoni:c thcsc disparatc possi-
bi|itics-somcthing which is cvidcnt in thc way thcy havc p|aycd thcir ro|cs in
thcKome andDu associationsaswc||asinthcway5aran5a|iahasuscdhispowcrs
as besetigi to protcct and carcforthc morc vu|ncrab|c mcmbcrs ofhis community
and thc dctcrmination with which Kcti crcnkc has uscd his ski||s as a storytc||cr
to makc pcop|c awarcofthc mora|va|ucsuponwhichsocia|ity dcpcnds. Jhough
thcir socia| ro|cs disguisc thc pcrsona| cxpcricnccs and cvcnts which |cd thcm to
takc up thosc ro|cs and p|ay thcm in thcir own particu|ar ways, thcir | ifc-storics
and thcirta|krcvca|thoschiddcnc|cmcnts. Itis inthisscnsc thatpraxis isa|ways
avita|and indctcrminatc rc|ationshipwithgivcnncss, agoingbcyond, asurpassing
ofonc' ssituation, status, or ro|c. Jhc | ivcs of 5aran 5a|iaand Kcti Hrcnkc cou|d
not bc dcduccd hom, nor shou|d thcy bc rcduccd to, thcir socia| circumstanccs.
Jhis is not to say that wc arc hcc to makc of our | ivcs what wc wi||, rathcr it
is to suggcst a pragmatist vicw offrcc wi|| which, having notcd what is singu|ar
about cach human |ifc, c|aims "thc right to cxpcct that in its dccpcst c|cmcnts
as wc|| as in itssurfacc phcnomcna, thcmturcmaynot idcntica||yrcpcatand imi-
tatcthcpast" |amcs i yU. o) , cvcn whcn, as inmostprc| itcratc socictics, socia|
timc is sccnas an unchanging rccapitu|ation ofthc anccstra| past.
L|car|y, cu|tura| ana|ysis must bc dia|cctica| . t must tracc out thc p|ay and
tcnsionbctwccnthc idcationa|ordcr-thcWeltnschauungand thc actua| cxpcri-
cnccofindividua|sinthccvcrydaywor|d-thcLebenswelt. 22 Lu|tura|anthropo|ogy
tcndstodchnc itsproj cctintcrmsofthcc|ucidationofncccssarypattcmsandabid-
ing structurcs, yct, cqua||ysignihcant is thc |ivcdwor|dofcontingcnt cxpcricncc,
of sickncss and hca|th, |ovc and gricf, morta|ity and crisis-thc domain of thc
human proj cct, of Bildung. Lu|tura| rca|ity is not j ust givcn, it must, in |ohn
bcrgcr's words , bc "continua||y sought out, hc|d- am tcmptcd to say salvaged"
bcrgcr i y. yz) . fit is not it bccomcs "a scrccn ofc|ichcs" bcforc whichwc arc
doomcd to pass as mcrc shadows ofour rca| sc|vcs.
Kccction on thc Lebenswelt is cqua||y important in grasping thc dia|cctica|
charactcr of cthnographica| praxis itsc|f. Lur know|cdgc of thc othcr is not j ust
a product ofour thcorctica| thought andrcscarch activity, it is a conscqucncc of
critica| cxpcricnccs, rc|ationships, choiccs, and cvcntsboth inthc hc|dand inthc
quotidianwor|dofourprofcssiona|andfami|y|ivcs. Jhc dia|cctic bctwccnthc im-
mcdiatc domains ofscnsib|c cxpcricncc and thcmorc abstractdomainsofanthro-
po|ogica| discoursc crcatcs quitcdihcrcnt modcs ofundcrstanding for cach onc of
us. 1ct thc synthctic charactcr of our undcrstanding is convcntiona||y disguiscd
inordcrtofostcrthcimprcssionthatitisconstructcdthroughmcthodsandmodc|s
which, whi|c rcviscd by our cmpirica| obscrvations of othcrs, rcmain unahcctcd
by thc cmpirica| rca|ity of our pcrsona| cngagcmcnt with and attitudc to thosc
othcrs.
^gainst this vicw itsccms soundcr and morc honcst to admit that our undcr-
standingisconstitutcddia|cctica||youtofthc tcnsionsandp|aybctwccnourintc|-
|cctua|tradition ( Weltnschauung) andthcadvcntitiouscircumstanccsofourpartic-
u|ar| ivcs. Ooingsomakcs itmorc|ikc|ythatwcwi||ha:ardcomparisons, noton|y
bctwccn socia|structurcs and cu|tura| forms but also between our exeriences of life.
Lthnography thcn bccomcsaformofVerstehen, aproj cctofcmpathicandvicarious
undcrstanding in which thc othcr is sccn in thc | ight of onc's own cxpcricnccs
and thc activity oftrying to fathom thc othcr in tum i||uminatcs and a|tcrsonc's
scnsc of5c|f. Jo ignorc thcsc intcrsubj cctivc grounds onwhichourundcrstanding
isconstitutcd abandonsustothcpcrformanccofbana|comparisonsbctwccnsocia|
system or condcmns us to thc impasscofncvcrbcingab|cto vcnturc vicws about
thc cxpcricncc ofothcrs. t is thc impassc Kuranko spcak ofwhcncvcr thcy want
to privi|cgc doxa ovcr opinion. N' d sa b'r I am not insidc thcm, i . c. , I cannot
rcad thcir thoughts) , and N'd r konto lon" I do not know what is insidc) .
Jhis phcnomcno|ogica| impassc can, howcvcr, bcovcrcomc by rccogni:ing
that wc makc oursc|vcs, in relation to others, out of givcn and inhcritcd circum-
stanccswc didnotchoosc. 5c|fandothcrsharcthcsamcwor|d, cvcnthoughthcir
proj cctsdihcr. Jo fathomanothcrisnot, thcrcforc, a||proj cctionandsurmisc, onc
insu|ar subj cctivity b|ind|y rcaching out to an a|icn othcr. Jo comparc notcs on
cxpcricncc with somconc c|sc prcsumcs and crcatcs a common ground, and thc
Two Lives 35
undcrstandingarrivcdattakcsi tsva|iditynotfromourdctachmcntandobj cctivity
but from thc vcry possibi|ity of our mutua|ity, thc cxistcncc of thc rc|ationship
itsc|f. Myintcrprctationsofthc | ivcsof5aran5a|ia5anoandKcticrcnkcKoroma
do not prctcnd obj cctivity. Jhcy rcf|cct our sharcd cxpcricncc, thc fact of our
hicndship, which, bytransccnding| inguisticandcu|tura|dihcrcnccs, showsbcttcr
than anyargumcntthathumanbcingcannotbcrcduccdto thc hxcdformsofcu|-
tura| bcing without fundamcnta| distortions.
THRE E
Aj ala' s Heads
Thrownness and Free Will in
African Thought
Jhcsubj cctofthischaptcristraditiona|^fricannotionsofhcc wi|| anddctcrmin-
ism. My approach wi|| bc to critica||y comparc ccrtain fcaturcs of Wcst ^hican
thoughtwith5artrcancxistcntia|ismandrcudianpsychoana|ysis. Jwo thcorctica|
issucsarcraiscd indoingthis, both ofwhichmustbc addrcsscd ifwc arc to arrivc
at a viab|c mcthod ofcross-cu|tura| comparison. Jhc hrst conccms thcoftcndis-
guiscd and undcc|arcd rc|ationship bctwccn thc cthnographcr's pcrsona| back-
groundand thc socia|ana|ysisforcgroundcd inhisorhcrwriting. Jhcsccondcon-
ccmsthcapp| icationofstructura|ist, cxistcntia| , Marxist, orpsychoana|yticmodc|s
drawnfrom thcWcstcm intc||cctua|traditiontocu|turcswhoscmodcsofobj cctih-
cation arc oftcn athcorctica| in charactcr. My approach to thcsc issucs wi|| bc to
p|ay up thc simi|aritics bcnccn how anthropo|ogists and thosc wc study organi:c
and intcrprct cxpcricncc. In particu|ar, I wi|| focus on thc way "our" modc|s and
"thcir" bc|icfs sharc simi|ar c|aims to obj cctivc truth and dctcrminatc princip|cs.
I takcthcvicwthata||suchformsofobj cctihcationmustbc dc-fctishi:cdanddc-
rcihcd in ordcr to rcvca| thc grounds on which thcir vcry possibi| ity rcsts. wi ||
arguc thatthi ski ndofcritiquc ahords usa soundmcthodfor makingcross-cu|tura|
comparisons. Isuggcstthatatthchcartofa||modcsofundcrstanding-thcorctica|
and athcorctica| a|ikc-| ics a nccd to assurcoursc|vcs thatthcwor|doutthcrc is
cohcrcntandbui|tonasca|cwhichiscompatib|cwithandmanagcab|cbyus. Ln|y
thcn can wc cntcrinto a rc|ationship with it, on|y thcn can our scnsc ofsc|fbc
stabi |i:cd. ^ "modc|" in scicncc or a "bc|icfsystcm" in a prc| itcratc socicty may
bccomparcdwithanurscrytoy. ^sLvi-5traussobscrvcsinL pensee sauvage, thcy
ohcrus acccssib|c homo|ogucs ofthc widcrwor|dwhichwc candcp|oy, magica||y
asitwcrc, tocxtcndourpowcrintothatwor|dandcxpcricnccoursc|vcsassubj ccts
i a. z-zq) .
Lctusbcginbynoting that strikingana|ogicsoftcncxistbctwccnWcstcmand
non-Wcstcm wor|d vicws. r instancc, during thc i os Lcorgc Ocvcrcux was
cngagcd in thc study of cu|turc and pcrsona|ity among thc Mohavc. Lnc of his
objcctivcswas"toco||cctdataonmcnta|disordcrs inMohavcsocictyandtointcr-
prct thcm in tcrms of Mohavc cu|turc and socicty" Ocvcrcux i b. t ) . Ouring
hishrsttwohc|d tripshisbiaswasantiana|yticandnon-rcudian, butonhisthird
Ajal' s Hea 37
hc|dtrip i n i Uhcrca|i:cd thcrc wcrc many arrcsting amnitics bctwccn Mohavc
fo|k modc|s ofpsychopatho|ogy and thc rcudianpsychoana|ytic modc| . Jhcsc af-
hnitics pcrsuadcd him to undcrtakc systcmatic psychoana|ytic training i b. ,
i yUa. yz) . ^s hcputsi t . "rcmaincdananti-rcudianunti |, i ni U, my Mohavc
informant taught mc psychoana|ysi s, as rcud's paticnts had taught it t him"
i yUb. , cf. i y. chap. i o) .
undcrwcnt a simi|ar intc||cctua| convcrsion during my initia|pcriodof hc|d-
workamong thc Kuranko, not to psychoana|ysis but to cxistcntia|ism.
Jhroughout my hrst ycar of hc|dwork was struck by thc ways in which
Kuranko, particu|ar|y inthcirritua|sand narrativcs, contrivcdtoovcrthrow, p|acc
in abcyancc, orcontrovcrtorthodoxforms ofthought and bchavior. but such an-
nu|mcnts of convcntiona| forms wcrc a|ways a prc|udc to thcir rcasscrtion. Jhc
dia|cctic intrigucd mc. was not contcnt to scc it simp|y as a mcthodofdramati-
ca||y bringing into rc| icf thc anccstra| va|ucs on which thc socia| ordcr was
foundcd. Kathcr, itsccmcdto mc cvidcncc ofan cxistcntia| impcrativc. thcnccd
to addrcssthcgivcnstructurcofonc'ssocia|wor|dnotasarcady-madcandprccmp-
tivcbodyofru|cstobcpassivc|yands|avish|yadhcrcdtobutasasctofpossibi|itics
to bc rca|i:cd throughsc|f-conscious purposcfu| activity. Jhc Kuranko socia|ordcr
didnotcndurc, gcncrationaftcrgcncration, throughincrtia, itscrcationandrccrc-
ation dcpcndcd on thc dccisivc and conccrtcd activity ofcach and cvcry individ-
ua| . ncachgcncrationancw, pcop|chadto cntcrintoanactivcrc|ationshipwith
thc wor|d, strugg|ing to makc it thcir own and cxpcricncc it as a product ofthcir
praxis , cvcnthoughthcy wcrc infact rccapitu|ating thc vcrywor|dthcyhadbccn
bom into andwcrc committcdto thc bc|icfthatthcwor|du|timatc|y rccctcdthc
primordia| dcsigns ofthc hrst pcop|c (fol' mogonnu) and ofLod, thc primum mo
bil, thc crcator ru|cr (dle mnsa) .
Whcn bcganworkingonmy h. O. hadhard|yanyfami| iaritywithcxistcn-
tia| phi|osophy, but in myscarch for an intcrprctativc framcwork compatib|c wi th
what I undcrstood tobc thc Kuranko conccptionofhumancxistcncc I camc upon
thc |atcr work of5artrc. ^t oncc I was ab|c to articu|atc somc ofthc idcas that
hadrcmaincdinchoatcduringmypcriodofhc|dwork. nthcfo||owingpags sum-
mari:csomcofthcapparcntpara||c|ismsbcoccncxistcntia|andWcst^fricancon-
ccptionsofdctcrminismandfrcc wi||bcforc tumingto a morccritica|cxamination
ofthcm.
JhcrcisaKurankoadagc, dunia toge r dunia; a toge le a dununia, which, trans-
|atcd |itcra||y, mcans "thc namc ofthc wor|d is notwor|d, its namc is |oad. " Jhc
adagc cxp|oits oxymoron and pun (dunia, "wor|d, " and dununia, "|oad, " arc ncar
homophoncs) and imp|ics that thc wor|d is |ikc a hcad-|oad, thc wcight ofwhich
dcpcndson thc way onc chooscs to carry it. 5uch an attitudc is suggcstivc ofthc
cxistcntia| vicw that man is ncvcr idcntica| with thc conditions that bcar upon
him, human cxistcncc is a vita| rc|ationship with such conditions , and it is thc
charactcrofthisreltionship whichitisourtasktofathom. 1 Jhisvicwisa|so imp|icd
by thc Kurankowordwhichmostc|osc|y trans|atcsourwordscustom andtradition:
nmui. Jhc word is hom na "mothcr") and thc vcrb k mui "to givc birth, " as
in thc tcrm muinyorgoye; |itcra||y, "birth partncrship, " i . c. , c|osc agnatic kinship
or "thcbondbctwccnchi|drcn ofthcsamcfathcr") . Namui suggcststhata pcrson
is bom into a wor|d ofprccstab|ishcd custom in thc samc way hc or shc is bom
into thc fathcr's kin group. but whi|c onc's socia| status and namc arc givcn
throughdcsccnt, onc'stcmpcramcntanddcstinyarcshapcdbyonc'smothcr'sinJu
ence, hcncc thc adagc k l dn sia; mui dn dn; k l dn wo bolo "a man has
many chi|drcn, a woman nurturcs thcm, his chi|drcn arc in hcr hands") and thc
frcqucntattributions inKuranko|ifc ofapcrson' sfortuncsto his mothcr's inf|ucncc
|ackson t yyb. t y-q) . bccausc it is thcinterlay offorma| dctcrminants and in-
forma| inf|ucnccs which dccidcs a pcrson's dcstiny, wc cou|d say that "to bc bom
isbothto bcbomofthcwor|dandto bcbom intothcwor|d. Jhcwor|disa|rcady
constitutcd, but a|so ncvcr comp|ctc|y constitutcd, in thc hrst casc wc arc actcd
upon, in thc sccond wc arc opcn to an inhnitc numbcrofpossibi | itics" Mcr|cau-
onty i z. q) .
5artrc i ) spcaks of thc "dia|cctic irrcducibi| ity" of | ivcd cxpcricncc ( l
vecu} , by which hc mcans that thc spccia| charactcr ofhuman cxistcncc cannot
bc disso|vcd into gcncra| forms or formu|ac without scrious distortions.2 Kc-
ductionism dcnics thc pcrcnnia||y uniquc intcrp|ay of thc givcn and thc possib|c
bccausc it insists that man is dctcrmincd eithr hom within o from without. or
5artrc, wc arc a synthctic unity of what wc makc out of what wc arc madc
i . q) . Lct us considcrhow this dia|cctic is cxprcsscd in various Wcst ^hican
wor|d vicws.
^ccording to thc 1oruba, cach pcrson is said to makc a choicc about his or
hcr prcfcrrcd dcstiny bcforc hc orshc is bom. ^ divinityca||cd^j a|a, "thc pottcr
who makcs hcads , " mo|ds hcads hom c|ay, hrcs thcm, andp|accs thcm ina storc-
housc. bccausc ^ja|a is an incorrigib|cdcbtor whosc mind is sc|dom onhiswork,
many of thc hcads arc bad|y thrown or ovcrhrcd. O, thc word for thc physica|
hcad, a|soconnotcsthc"intcma|hcad" ( ori-inu) , thc inncrpcrsona|ity "thatru|cs,
contro|s, and guidcs thc | ifc and activitics ofthc pcrson" dowu i z . o) , and
thc act ofsc|cctingonc's ori is rcgardcd as onc offrcc wi ||. but bccausc of^j a|a's
irrcsponsib|c workmanship, many hcads provc to bc dcfcctivc. lcvcrthc|css, as
soon as thc choicc ofa hcad has bccn madc, thc pcrson isfrcc to travc| to canh
whcrc his succcss or fai|urc in |ifc wi|| dcpcnd |argc|y on thc ori hc pickcd up in
^j a|a' s storchousc.
O is, howcvcr, on|y onc aspcctofhumanbcing. Emi, whichmcansboththc
physica|hcartandthcspirit, isthcimpcrishab|caspcctofthcpcrsonwhichcontin-
ucs to bc rcincamatcd. Emi is givcn by L|odumarc, thc suprcmc bcing, aftcr
Lrinsan|a, thc crcator god, has formcd thc physica| body ofa pcrson out ofc|ay.
Jhc thirdaspcctofa pcrson isca||cdese "|cg") . ^bimbo|anotcsthatwhi|capcr-
son's dcstiny dcrivcs hom his ori, thc rca|i:ation of that dcstiny dcpcnds on ese,
thc |cgs i y. U ) . ^1orubata|cnicc|y i ||ustratcsthiscomp|cmcntaripofori and
ese. ^|| thcori mccttogcthcrto dc| ibcratcon a proj cctthcywant to bringtohui-
tion. butthcyfai|toinvitcese. Havingmadc thcirrcso|utions, thchcadshndthat
wi thout |cgs thcy do not havc thc mcans to carryout thcirdcsigns. ^s ^bimbo|a
puts it, "thc point ofthc story is that cvcn ifonc isprcdcstincdto succcssby thc
choicc ofa good o, onccannotactua||y achicvcsucccsswithout thc usc ofonc' s
Ajala' s Hea 39
ese, which is a symbo| of powcr and activity" U) .3 Jhis "two-sidcd conccption"
ofhumandcstiny "is acccptcdby thc1orubawithout qucstion. It . . . mcans that
in an incxp|icab|c way, whathappcnstoapcrsonmaybcsimu|tancous|ythc rcsu|t
of Bi 6 ti gba a-'^s hc rcccivcd it was dcstincd) , ' and /-] -u-]d-'that which
hc brings upon himsc|f`' I dowu i z. i U) .
Jhc signihcancc which thc 1oruba attachcd to ese i s rcminisccntof thc way
5artrc and Mcr|cau-onty cmphasi:c thc importancc ofcmbodimcnt. Human in-
tcntiona|ity is a bodi|y disposition as much as an inc|ination ofthc mind. 4 "Lon-
sciousncssis inthc hrstp|accnotamattcrof'I thinkthat'butof'I can' " Mcr|cau-
onty i z. i y ) . Oihcrcnt intcntiona|iticsmay, howcvcr, cocxist inapcrsonand
givc risc to profound conicts.
Jhc notion that a dcc|arcdprcnata|choicc inf|ucnccs thccourscofa pcrson' s
dcstiny is widcsprcad in Wcst ^frica ortcs i U) . It is a|so widc|yhc|d that a
pcrson may bc ignorantofthischoicc and hnd his consciousaspirations inconict
with dccp|y ingraincddispositions.5 ^mongthc Igbo, chi is thc incorporca|aspcct
ofapcrsonwhichprcsidcsovcrthcprcnata|choiccofdcstiny. Lnc's|otorportion
on carth rcccts a primordia| bargain with onc'schi. but oncc a pcrson is thrown
intothcwor|d, hc and hischi mayhndthcmsc|vcs indisagrccmcnt. Jhus, apcrson
mayfa||victimtothcdcmandsofanintransigcntchi orbccomc|ockcdintoastrug-
g|c to rcvokc his prcnata| choicc ^chcbc i y ) . 5imi|ar vicws arc hc|d by thc
Ja||cnsi. bcforc a pcrson is bom into thc wor|d his "sou|" (sii) dcc|arcs his choicc
of dcstiny bcforc hcavcn (Nawun) . Jhis "spokcn dcstiny" (nuo-yin) acts as an
imp|acab|c forcc in a pcrson's |ifc, inc|ining him or hcr to rcncgc on h|ia|ob| iga-
tions and othcrisc "rcj cctordinary human |iving" ortcs i U . i y ) . Howcvcr, as
ortcs notcs, "| ifc-symbo|i:cdforthc Ja||cnsi in thc brcath qoto)-is on|y thc
raw matcria|for|iving. What onc makcsofit dcpcnds on othcr spiritua|agcncics"
i ) . Jhc "prcnata| dcstiny" must compctc with a sct of countcrvai|ing forccs,
signihcd by conhgurations of anccstors uniquc to cach individua| , which guidc
andassistapcrsontowardthcrca|i:ationofhisorhcrm||socia|potcntia|. Jhcpcr-
sona| | ifc is thus conccivcd of as a dynamic p|ay bctwccn socia| and antisocia|
impcrativcs-in ortcs' s tcrms, bctwccn|obian fu|h||mcnt and Lcdipa| fatc.
Howarc suchopposcd impcrativcsand compcting intcntiona|iticsrcconci|cd'
In answcringthisqucstionhomthcWcst^fricanpointofvicwwc havc toconsidcr
inmorcdctai| thckindsofcomp|cmcntaryforccswhichmayohsctorcountcrmand
thc prcnata| dcstiny, providing roomfor intc||igcntpurposc andconsciouscontro|
inthcactua|workingoutofonc'ssocia|dcstinyoncarth. Ldo idcasonthissubj cct
arc particu|ar|y i ||uminating.
Itisbc|icvcdthatbcforcbirthcachindividua|prcdcstincshimsc|f(hi) bymak-
ing a dcc|arationbcforc Lsanobua, thc crcator, scttingouta | ifc programandask-
ingforcvcrythingnccdcdtocarryitthroughsucccssm||y. Lnc'sehi "dcstiny") acts
as a kind of prompt at this timc, and wi|| rcmain in thc spirit wor|d as a guidc
andintcrmcdiarywithLsanobua. Misfortunc in| ifc iscxp|aincdasafai|urctokccp
tothcchoscn|ifc program, arcsu|tofhavinga"badehi, " andapcrsonmayimp|orc
his ehi to intcrvcnc and improvc his |ot. bradbury notcs that ehi "rcprcscnts thc
innatc potcntia|iticsforsocia|achicvcmcntwith which cachindividua| isbc|icvcd
to bc cndowcd" i y. z ) . but whi|c ehi imp|ics thc abscncc ofpcrsona| contro|
ovcronc'sfortuncs, thchcad ( uhumwu) "admitsagrcatcrdcgrccofrcsponsibi|ity. "
Jhc hcad i s thc scat ofthought, j udgmcnt, wi|| , or charactcr, of hcaring, sccing,
and spcaking. It thcrcforc comp|cmcnts ehi and, in thc past, was thc focus of a
cu|tconccmcdwith thc hcadshipoffami | icsand thc ru|c ofthc statc. Jhc sccond
forcc which comp|cmcnts ehi is thc hand ( ikegobo) , which connotcs manua| ski||
andsucccssm| cntcrprisc. ^|sothcfocus ofa cu|t, thchandsymbo| itcs a pcrson's
vigorand industry infarming, trading, craft work, andothcrundcrtakings. "It im-
p|icspcrsona|rcsponsibi| ityandsc|f-rc|iancc in ahigh|ycompctitivcandrc|ativc|y
individua|istic socicty" bradbury i y. z ) . Jhc Lng| ish saying "your fatc is in
your own hands" trans|atcs rcadi|y into Ldo.6
JhcLdoconccptionofhumandcstinythuscmphasitcsthcdia|cctica|intcrp|ay
ofthcprcnata|dispositionsandundcrstanding(communis sententia) withthcpracti-
ca| know-how acquircd in thc coursc of a pcrson's socil dcvc|opmcnt. Wc must
bc carcfu| , howcvcr, not to rcducc thc prcdctcrminativc domain of cxistcncc to
thcprcnata| wor|d andso givc thc imprcssionthatthcsocia| wor|d is by contrast
a domain of frccdom and fu|h||mcnt. Jhc cstab|ishcd socia| ordcr with its hxcd
traditions , convcntions, and authority structurcs, into which a pcrson is thrown
atbirth, canbcj ustasopprcssivc, prcdctcrminativc, andprob|cmaticasthc innatc
dispositions dccidcd prcnata||y. ^ccording|y, thc domain of a pcrson's frccdom
docs not |ic ovcr and abovc ci thcr thc spirit wor|d hom whcncc hc comcs or thc
socia| wor|d into which hc is bom but squarc|y bcnccn thc no. Jogcthcr thcy
dctcminc thc paramctcrs ofa pcrson' s chcctivc frccdom. raxis is thus a mattcr
ofncgotiatingapathbctwccninnatcdispositionsandsocia|prcssurcs, ofhamonit-
ing or rcconci |ing thc oftcn opposcd hc|ds ofnaturcandcu|turc. Jhroughout ^f-
rica, this movcmcnt is a||cgoritcd as j oumcying bctwccn bush and vi ||agc.
^ common sccnario in Kuranko ora| narrativcs invo|vcs a young hcro who
ha:ards his |ifc on a j oumcy into thc wi|dcmcss in scarch of an obj cct, such as
a musica| instrumcntor a fctish, which wi|| bc ofadvantagc to hiscommunity. In
his conhontation with wi|d bcings and in his strugg|cs against thc tcmptation to
usc his gainsforsc|hsh cnds, thc qucsting hcro cmbodics rccurring mora|di |cmmas
in Kuranko socia| | ifc, such as thccompctingc|aims ofduty anddcsirc, individua-
tion and association. Jhc rcso|ution of thcsc di|cmmas dcpcnds upon thc hcro' s
powcrsofdisccmmcntandj udgmcnt, thoughhcissomctimcsaidcdbysupcmatura|
hc|pcrsormagica|obj cctsthatoccupya position midwaybctwccnthc socia|wor|d
and thc wi|dcmcss |ackson i Uza) .
Kuranko ritcs of initiation ( birye) p|ot a simi|ar coursc bctwccn wi|dncss and
socia|ity, thc crucia| transformation from chi|dhood to adu|thood taking p|acc in
a "bushhousc, " thcfafei, which isbumcd to thc groundwhcnncophytcscomp|ctc
thcir initiation and rctum to thcir vi ||agc. Initiation is somctimcs spokcn of as a
"taming" ( kn kola) ofthc "wi|d" or "unripc" naturc of thc chi|d. ^n uninitiatcd
chi|d"knows nothing, " say thc Kuranko, "a chi|d is j ust as it was bom, it has no
socia| intc||igcncc ( hnkili sa I) . " Initiation providcs "ncw undcrstanding" (hnkili
kur) ; thc chi|d bccomcs a "ncw pcrson" capab|c ofassuming rcsponsibi|ityforhis
or hcr own thought andbchavior. Lcntra| to this transition is thc cndurancc of
Ajal' s Hea 41
pain, dime, a word whichconnotcs both cmotiona|suhcring and physica|hurt. In
thc bush, cut oh hom cmotiona| tics with thc community, particu|ar|y with thc
mothcr, thc pubcsccntchi|dissubj cctto ascricsofordca|swhicharcsaidtosimu-
|atcthccriscswhich incvitab|yattcnd adu|t |ifc. Jhcncophytc isurgcd to contro|
his or hcr reation to suhcring. Mastcry of onc's rcaction to pain-standing
stocksti||, not b| inking, not making a sound, notwincingwhcn onc iscut-isrc-
gardcd as thc paradigm of a|| sc|f-mastcry. In thc Kuranko vicw it is on|y whcn
a pcrson |cams to discriminatc bctwccn thc actionofhurt and hisorhcrrcaction
to it that hc or shc gains any mcasurc of contro| or frccdom.7 Yiri stcadincss of
body/mind) connotcs this dctachcd attitudc to an inncr statc, whcthcrpain, gricf,
angcr, or |ovc. Kerenteye bravcry) and kilnbelteye fortitudc) suggcst mora| hbcr,
anabi|itytowithstandthctidcsofstrongcmotions. Jhcscvirtucsarca||dcpcndcnt
upon thc cu|tivation ofan abstract attitudc which produccs consonancc bctwccn
intcntions and actions. Various adagcs bring homc thc importancc ofthi s. Marge
kume mir' I i konto i wo I fa l "Whatcvcr word a pcrson thinks of, that wi|| hc
spcak, " i . c. , think bcforc you spcak |cst you b|urt out stupid idcas) , I mir' I koe
mi ma, i wo I k I "1ou thought ofthat, you do that, " i . c. , think bcforc you act
|cst your actions bc|ic your intcntions) .
I nthcKurankovicw, thcwayonccomportsoncsc|faftcr|cavingthc initiation
|odgc, thc fafei, is thc way onc wi|| comport oncsc|ffor thc rcst ofonc's |ifc. 8 A
t wo bo I ka, thc Kuranko say, "onc wi||not |cavc it. " Jo fai| thc tcst ofinitiation
is to rcmain a chi|d, impctuous, thought|css, and socia||y incpt, j ust as onc was
bom (a dnye l wo Ia, "how onc is madc") . 9 In such cascs a pcrson may bccomc
a butt ofj okcs and an obj cct ofpity, mora||y cxcuscd from rcsponsibi|ity for his
orhcrincorrigib|chabits. A ka tla, a saran t I bl, thcKurankosay,"hcisb|amc-
|css, hc was bom with it. " ^|tcmativc|y, thc inscrutab|c dcsigns of^||ah may bc
invokcd, sincc thc Kuranko say that onc' s dcstiny (sawur) is u|timatc|y a "gift of
^||ah, " dccidcdbcforconc's birthandquitc irrcvcrsib|c. Ia tege saraka sa "nosacri-
hcc can cut it" ) . Howcvcr, whcncvcrsuch fata|istic vicws arcohcrcd, whcthcr in
tcrms of prcnata| choiccs as among thc Ja| |cnsi and Ldo or thc irrcvocab|c wi||
of^||ah as among thc Kuranko, thcy arcusua||y rctrospcctivc rationa|itations of
criscs that havc bcfa||cn pcop|c rathcr than prcscriptions for practica| conduct.
Jhus, whi|c thc Kuranko say that ccrtain facu|tics such as sc|f-posscssion ( mirn)
and intc|| igcncc ( hnkilimaiye) or ccrtain traitsoftcmpcramcnt (yugi ) arc givcnby
^||ah, this docs not mcan that thc mastcry and usc of such inbom dispositions
arc simi|ar|y givcn. Ln thc contrary, thcy arc to bc rcgardcd as "a hc|d of instn-
mcnta|possibi|itics, " tousc5amc' sphrasc, which, thoughnotinhnitc|yma||cab|c,
may bc opcncd up to scrutiny, subj cct to various intcrprctations, and cxpcricnccd
orrcactcd to indihcrcntways. Jhis, thcn, is thc domain ofchoicc and ofhuman
praxis.
Likcritcsofinitiation, ^hican curingritcs invo|vc an attcmpt toharmonitc
or rcconci|c thc oftcn compcting impcrativcs of"town" and "bush. " ^mong thc
baKongo, agitation or "wi|dncss" within a pcrson must bc countcractcd by thc
"ca|ming" or "coo|ing" chccts of mcdicincs cu||cd hom thc domcstic domain
|antcn t yU. zo ) . Jhiscntai|sanadj ustmcntofthcrc|ationshipbctwccnintcma|
and cxtcma| hc|ds ofbcing, conccptua|i:cd in tcrms ofthc contrasts whitc/b|ack
i . c. , sc|f/othcr) and townbush. 5imi|ar idcas inform mcdica| practicc among thc
5onghay, who oftcn conccptua|i:c discasc as an uncontro||cd invasion of sc|for
townby"thcbush. "^s|canncbisi||iatshows, rcdrcssivcactionncccssitatcsacom-
parab|c movcmcnt, butonc which uscs mcdicincsfrom thc "cu|tivatcdbush" and
invo|vcs thc contro||cd, consciousparticipation ofthc paticnt i y. o) .
^ccording to thcsc ^hican modc|s, "pathways" cxist within thc human body
aswc|| asbctwccnsc|fandsocicty andbctwccnsocictyandthcwi|dcmcss bisi|| iat
i y. , |ackson i Uza. i y-U, Wi||is i yU. i q ) . Jhc kcy to wc||-bcing |ics in
a pcrson's abi| ity to contro| trafhc a|ong thcsc pathways. ^s thc imagc suggcsts,
physica| and psychic hca|th is intimatc|y conncctcd with thc statc of a pcrson' s
rc|ationshipwith othcrs inhisorhcrcommunity
, it isa rcsu|tofsucccssm||yhar-
moni:ing inncr compu|sion and cxtcma| ru|cs, ofncithcr succumbing comp|ctc|y
to onc's "wi|d" dispositions nor bccoming so rigid|y ru|c-bound that onc cannot
scc bcyond onc's own socia| position.

nthc modcs ofpraxis considcrcd thus far, a pcrson a|ways rc|ics on an a||y,
mcdiator, or mcntor who is ab|c to tap and tamc thc wi|d cncrgics of thc bush.
bushspirits in Kuranko ora|narrativcs, cu|tmastcrs associatcdwithpowcrfu| bush
spirits in Kuranko initiation, and mcdicinc-mastcrs with a command ofmcdicincs
drawnfrom thcwi|dcmcss inKuranko curingritcs. Jhcwi|dcmcss isthcrcforc not
so|c|y a domain of antisocia| powcrs, it is thc sourcc of and a mctaphor for thc
vita| cncrgics uponwhichthc crcationofa viab|c socia|ordcrdcpcnds. 1 2 Jhc har-
moni:ingofinnatccompu|sionsandsocia|impcrativcsdocsnotmcanovcrcoming,
rcprcssing, orcxpungingthc"wi|d"butcntcringintoacontro||cdrc|ationshipwith
it. ^s Kicsman obscrvcs in his supcrb study offrccdom inu|anisocia| | ifc, "frcc-
dom in socicty is foundcd on thc possibi| ity ofcach pcrson cntcring into a dircct
rc|ationwiththc bush" i yy. zy ) , a p|accofso|itudcwhcrconc may |osconcsc|f
but a|so hnd oncsc|fby gaining in sc|f-mastcry and strcngth.
crhaps thc most important intcrmcdiarics bctwccnsocia|and cxtrasocia| do-
mains arc thc divincrs. n manyWcst ^frican socictics thcy p|ay thc crucia| ro|c
in hc|ping a pcrsonrcdrcssthc imba|ancc bctwccn innatc and socia| impcrativcs.
^mongthcKa|abari , forcxamp|c, divincrsarcab|c to "diagnoscthcwords"which
a pcrson's teme "sou|") spokc bcforccomingtocarthand, by confrontinga pcrson
with thc words, hc|p him orhcrrcvokcthcm. na ritua|known as bibi bari "ca||-
ing back thc mouth/spccch") thc bad words spokcn by thc teme bcforc birth arc
cxchangcd for ncw and bcttcr oncs Horton i z. zo , i U. ) . ^mong thc
Ja||cnsi , divincrs arc a|so ab|c to hc|p a pcrson "cxorcisc" hisor hcrcvi|prcnata|
dcstiny (nur-yin) by rcvoking thc badwordsspokcn bcforc birth. but cvcnmorc
signihcantisthcwayapcrsoncstab|ishcsshrincsto auniqucconhgurationof"good
dcstiny" anccstors-drawn from both patri| inca| and matri|inca| forcbcars-who
assisthimorhcrin|cadingafu|h||ingsocia|| ifc. ^gain, divincrsp|aycrucia|mcdi-
atoryro|csincommunicatingthcwishcsandinc|inationsofthcscanccstorstothcir
wards and in advising appropriatc sacrihccs ortcs t U. z) . n Oahomcy it was
bc| icvcd that a pcrson cou|d tap thc antinomian cncrgics ofLcgba, thc trickstcr,
andsochangcthcdircctionofthcfatc hcorshcchoscbcforcbirth. ^|tcmativc|y,
Ajala' s Hea 43
divincrs cou|d hc|p a pcrson cstab| ish a shrinc to Oa, or |uck symbo| i:cd for thc
individua| by thc umbi|icus and cosmo|ogica||y by thc snakc and thc rainbow) , or
act as intcrccssorics bctwccn a pcrson and his orhcr "guardian sou| , " soproviding
amcansofavcrtingprcdcstincdmisfortunc ortcs i U. U) . ^mongthcothc
cu|t of thc hand hgurcd signihcant|y in hc|ping a pcrson changc his |uck, and a
man who consu|tcd a divincr about his i|| fortunc might bc adviscd to "scrvc his
hand" by makingohcring at thc cu|tshrinc bradbury i y. zq) .
Jhc strikingpara||c|s that cxistbctwccncxistcntia| and traditiona|Wcst^fri-
can conccptions of frcc wi|| and dctcrminism arcnicc|y summari:cd by thc gbo
adagc "Jhcwor|disa markctp|accand itissubj cctto bargain" Lchcndu i . i )
and this cxccrpt from an intcrvicw with 5artrc.
in the end one is always responsible for what is made of one. Even if one can do noth
ing else besides assume this responsibility. For I believe that a man can always make
something out of what is made of him. That is the limit I would today accord to fee
dom: the small movement which makes a totally conditioned social being someone
who does not render back completely what his conditioning has given him. (Sartre
1 969: 45 )
but howfar can wc takc thcsc simi|aritics, considcringthcdihcrcnccsbctwccn
thc aphoristi c, imp|icit, and unsystcmati:cd charactcr of traditiona| ^hican
thought and thc abstract, systcmatic, and ana|ytica|charactcrofWcstcmphi|oso-
phy' Livcnthcfactthat5artrc, inthispassagc, assumcsauthorityforhisownvicws
whi|c thc gbo adagc takcs its authority from tradition, arc wc not in dangcr of
confusing ana|ogy with homo|ogy, of cxaggcrating supcrhcia| rcscmb|anccs and
ovcr|ooking cmpirica| dihcrcnccs ' Is it pcrhaps fa||acious, as onc promincnt^fri-
can phi |osophcr argucs, to comparc traditiona| ^frican wor|d vicws with modcm
scicntihc thcorics, c|cvating "fo|k wor|d-vicws . . . to thc status ofa contincnta|
phi |osophy" Wircdu tUo. chap. ) '
I want to answcr thcsc qucstions by hrst |ooking at thc way scvcra| notab|c
studicsof^hicanthoughthavc uscd thc rcudianmodc| ofthcunconscious. Jhis
critiquc wi|| thcn |cad back to a morc scarching considcration of thc aptncss of
comparing cxistcntia| and traditiona| Wcst^frican wor|d vicws.
In his cssay "Lcdipus and |ob in Wcst ^hican Kc|igion, " hrst pub|ishcd in
t , Mcycrortcs t U) drcwafascinatingana|ogybctwccnJa||cnsiandrcud-
ian conccptions ofthc pcrson. Jhcana|ogy is a|so cxp|icit in thc work ofVictor
Jumcr and Kobin Horton in thc tos and pcrvadcs thc writing of many othcr
^fricanists.13 ^ kcy conccm in scvcra| of thcsc scmina| accounts of ^frican
thought is thc naturc ofthc unconscious, and it is in this rcgard that thc rcudian
modc| ofthcpsychchas bccn foundparticu|ar|y i||uminating. Jumcr, | ikc rtcs,
acknow|cdgcs hi s dcbt to rcud, and though hc admits misgivings about basing
ana|ysis"dircct|yonrcud'ssystcm"hccnthusiastica||yuscs"ccrtainofhisconccpts
ana|ogous|y and mctaphorica||y, as a mcans of gaining somc initia| purchasc on
a sct of data hithcrto unana|y:cd in any dcpth and dctai| by jhis| structura|ist-
functiona|ist co||cagucs. " ^s Jumcr obscrvcs, "rcud's intc||cctua| cutting too|s
wcrcbcttcrhoncdtos|iccup thcbcastI was intcntoncarving" t yU. y) . Whi|c
lorton is morc critica| ofthc possibi|ityofexlining ^hican thought in rcudian
tcrms, hc considcrs Wcst ^frican and rcudian modc|s to bc comparab|c cnough
to "providc inspiration for an cxciting cross-cu|tura| study ofsocia| psycho|ogics"
t U . y) and in scvcra| important papcrs on thc Ka|abari t t , tz, ty ,
t U ) haspursucdsuchastudy. Myimmcdiatcconccm, howcvcr, i s withHorton's
contcntion that a "rcudian-typc framcwork ofpcrsona|ityconccptsiscommon in
Wcst^hica" t t . tt) andthattodrawanana|ogybctwccnKa|abaripcrsona|ip
conccptsandpsychoana|yticidcas"issomcthingmorcthanamcrcanthropo|ogist's
whim" t t ) .
lortonbcginsbyrcj ccting ortcs's ana|ogy bctwccnLcdipa| fatc andJa||cnsi
notionsoffatc, sincc inthcc|assica|LrccktcxtsLcdipusdidnotchooscandcou|d
notchangchisfatc, whi|c inJa||cnsi thought a pcrson'sdcstiny isprcnata||ycho-
scn and may bc rcvokcd. Hc thcnargucs thatortcs
would have done far better to have scrapped Oedipus and to have replaced him explic
itly with the Freudian idea of an Unconscious Self-a purposive agency whose desires
are unknown to Consciousness and are fequently in confict with it. For this idea paral
lels the Tallensi notion of a life-course chosen by a part of the personality before birth,
a course both hidden fom the post-natal consciousness and fequently opposed to the
latter's aims. ( I 1 2 )
lcxt, Horton prcscnts anaccount of thc Ka|abari conccption of thc pcrsona| ity
in cxp|icit|y rcudian tcrms. "In Ka|abari thought, thc human pcrsona|ity is di -
vidcd into two scctions, " thcbiomgbo, or"conscious mind, " andthctm, "an im-
matcria| agcncywhichis incxistcnccbcforc thcindividua| isbomandwhichsur-
vivcshisdcath. " Jhc tm isakindof"stccrsmanofthcpcrsona| ity"whoscdcsircs
andwishcsarc inacccssib|c tothcbiomgbo, "bothunconsciousand inconictwi th
thc contcnts ofthc consciousncss" t t ) .
Jhcrc arc, howcvcr, scrious cmpirica|prob|cmswith Horton' srcudiang|oss.
irst, as hc himsc|fnotcs, thc sourcc of pcrsona|ity conicts among thc Ka|abari
is status riva|ry, not |ibidinous impu|scs and drivcs as in c|assica| psychoana|ytic
thcory t t . t t q, t y. y) . It must a|so bc strcsscd that whi|c rcud contrastcd
thcirrationa|ityofthcunconsciouswiththc|ogica|proccsscsofthcconsciousmind
romm i y. q) , thc Ka|abari modc| of thc pcrsona| ity is not bui|t on such
Luroccntricnotionsasrcasonand|ogic cf. Ha||cn t y. zy-U) . Jo drawanana|-
ogybctwccnrcudianandKa|abarimodc|sonthcgroundsthatbothrccogni:cthat
much human bchavior is not undcrconsciouscontro| is as spurious as conating
rcud'smodc|ofthcmindwithcar|icrspiritua|isticorromanticmodc| s, whicha|so
postu|atcd notions of thc unconscious L||cnbcrgcr t yo) . ' ' ^ sccond prob|cm
ariscsfrom thcfactthatthcKa|abaritcndto scc thc teme animistica||y, asa spirit-
ua| bcing rathcr than a mcnta| proccss. In a papcr on thc Ka|abari wor|d vicw
which appcarcd in Afca a ycar aftcr his papcr on dcstiny andthc unconscious,
Horton rcmarks that thc word teme "can dcnotc cithcr a spccia| modc of bcing,
or an cntity cxisting in that modc" t z. i ) . Hc thcrcforc trans|atcs tm as
"spirit"inordcr toindicatc that tm arcsomctimcscthcrca|andsomctimcsmatcri-
a|i:c asspiritbcings. Morcovcr, hcobscrvcsthatnoton|yarctm cmbodicd, visi-
Ajal' s Hea 45
b|c, and tangib|c undcr ccrtain conditions, thcy arc frcqucnt|y |ocatcd in ccrtain
p|accs, obj ccts, and shrincs t ) .
Jhcsc cthnographic facts suggcst a crucia| dihcrcncc bctwccn Ka|abari and
rcudian modc|s. Whi|c teme arc oftcn socia|bcings who can associatcwithboth
pcop|c andowumpu spirits) , |ocatcd inspacc and havingbodi|yform a sick pcr-
son may "bc worricd by a bad teme " ) , thc inncr mcnta| proccsscs, drivcs, and rc-
prcsscdwishcs thatconstitutc thc rcudianunconsciousarcnotconccivcdanthro-
pomorphica||y rcud t y. t -zoq) . ' ' ^|though Horton rcmarks this dihcrcncc
t y. , t U. yy) hc downp|ays it as mcrc|y idiomatic. Jhis is bccausc his con-
ccm to show that thc ^hican modc| is "a systcm ofthcorctica| discoursc compa-
rab|c to thc systcmsofthc natura|scicnccs" t U. yy) iscsscntia||yepistemological,
strcssingthc manncr in which bothtraditiona|andscicntihc modc|s scck unity un-
dcr|ying apparcnt divcrsi ty, tracc causa| conncctions, synthcsi:c cxpcricncc into
abstractthcorics, andsoon t y. o-yt ) . Jhctroub|cisthat thismodcofcompar-
isontcndsto ignorcthcdihcrcntsociohistorica|conditionsthatgovcmthcgcncsis
ofdihcrcnt wor|d vicws aswc||as toovcr|ookthc dihcrcnt intcrcsts, app| ications,
and practica| conscqucnccs that dihcrcnt wor|d vicws cntai |. Lrudc|y put, an
atomic modc|hc|ps makc atom bombs, thc a||cgcd|y "comparab|c" ^frican modc|
ofspirits, anccstors, and Lod docs not.
Jhis pragmatist critiquc can bc dcvc|opcd mrthcr by considcring thc dihcr-
cnccs in thc practica| app|ications of rcudian and Wcst ^frican modc|s offatc
and frcc wi ||. rcudian psychothcrapy invo|vcs dcpth ana|ysis of an individua|'s
mind, ofhisorhcrdrcams, mcmorics, fantasics, andinhibitions. Itinvo|vcsaj our-
ncy back through biographica| timc. In ^frica, as wc havc sccn, ana|ysis of thc
hiddcn dctcrminants ofthc pcrsona|i ty invo|vcs divination, a mcthod of |ooking
not so much into a pcrson's psychc as into his orcircumstanccs. Bdi|y and socia|
factors arc j ust as signihcant as mcnta| oncs, thc pcrson is sccn as part of a
sociospatia| forcc-hc|d, and thc divincrprocccds as a kind of"socia| ana|yst" who
manipu|atcs exterl obj ccts such as cowric shc||s and pcbb|cs or communicatcs
wi th extrasocial bcings such as bush spirits in ordcr to bring to | ight thc hiddcn
aspccts ofhis c|icnt's situation |ackson t yUb) . Jhc rcudian and ^hican tcch-
niqucsforunmasking thchiddcndctcrminantsofhumanfatc imp|y quitcdihcrcnt
conccptua| schcmcs. ' Whi|c c|assica| psychoana|ytic thought tcnds to dchnc thc
unconscious as a dccp rcccss ofinterior bcing whcrc cxtcma| rca|ity is "rcp|accd"
by psychica| rca|ity rcud t y. t Uy ) , traditiona| ^hican thought tcnds to con-
struc thc unconscious as a forcc-hc|d exterior to a pcrson' s immcdiatc awarcncss.
It is not so much a rcgion ofthc mind as a rcgion in spacc, thc inscrutab|c rca|m
ofnightandofthcwi|dcmcss, h||cdwithbushspirits, witchcs, sorccrcrs, andcnc-
mics. In Kuranko, thc word that most c|osc|y trans|atcs our word unconciou is
duwoon, whichmcanscovcrt, inhiding, orundcrhandcd, bycontrastwithkenem,
opcn to thc pub|ic ga:c. but |ikc thc word dugr |itcra||y, "ground in") which
a|so mcans "hiddcn, " thc stcm ofduworon, dug, mcans "p|acc" or "ground, " and
it is morc consonant with Kuranko thought to spcak of thc unknow rathcr than
ofthc unconscious, i . c. , a sociospatia| rathcr than an intrapsychic aspcctofbcing-
in-thc-wor|d.' ' Inthis conncction itis intcrcstingto notc that ortcs, whosc t
comparativc cssay on Ja||cnsi rc|igion is dccp|y inucnccd by psychoana|ytic
thought, obscrvcd tcnycars car|icr that thc Ja||cnsi "do not conccivcofthc inncr
|ifc ofthc individua| as a distinct phcnomcnon apart from thc cxtcma| , matcria| ,
and socia| facts ofhis |ifc" t q. zzy-zU) .
Jhc ^frican tcndcncy to attributc bodi|y form and sociospatia| idcnti ty to
forccs wc tcnd to conccivc of in thc abstract as mcnta| proccsscs cxp|ains why,
in traditiona| ^frica, disturbcd thought is oftcn sccn as cvidcncc ofspirit posscs-
sion,1 8 andprcnata| dispositions-as among thcJa||cnsi andKa|abari-arc oftcn
anthropomorphi:cd as anccstors or spirit bcings. 5uch a way of conccptua|i:ing
what wc wou|d rcgard as inncr psychic proccsscs is not mcrc|y "idiomatic", nor is
it insignihcant. Ln thc contrary, it is profound|y rc|atcd to thc sociopo|itica| ma-
trix of traditiona| ^frican |ifc, and a sound undcrstanding of why ^hican and
rcudian modc|s dihcr rcquircs a considcration ofthc dihcrcnt imp| ications thcsc
modc|s havc in thc socia| wor|ds to which thcy bc|ong.
irst, though it is not ncccssary to cxp|orc hcrc thc rc|ation bctwccn rcud' s
idcasandthcsocia|wor|dinwhichhcconccivcdthcm, thcfact thatthcrcudian
modc| of thc unconscious has bccn so oftcn rcviscd sincc his timc indicatcs not
on|y changcs in our undcrstanding ofthc mind but changcs in our sociopo|itica|
cnvironmcnt. Ouring thc t qos, Wi|hc|m Kcich was arguing that consciousncss
was not cthcrca| but cmbodicd Kcich t q) and 5artrc and Mcr|cau-onty wcrc
insisting on thc unity ofconscious and bodi|y bcing 5artrc t y, Mcr|cau-onty
t z ) . ^t aboutthc samc timc, bion's workwithbatt|c-fatigucdso|dicrs inWor|d
WarI I was|cadingtoincrcasingcmphasisongroupdynamicsinpsychothcrapyand,
as a rcsu|t, "thc rcudian vicw ofthc psychc as a dark, hiddcn rca|m within thc
rcccsscsofthc individua| |ost somc ofitsvcrisimi|itudc" ostcr t yU. tt o) . ostwar
rcscarch by batcson and othcrs on thc rc|ationship bctwccn mcnta| disordcr and
communication brcakdown in thc fami|y had a simi|ar impact to critica| thcory,
which a|so strcsscd thc socia| rathcr than |ibidinous dctcrminants of bchavior
romm t y) . Lthcrs, such as K. O. Laing, wcrc critica| of thc psychoana|ytic
modc| ofintrapsychicdcfcnsc mcchanisms and cndcavorcd to constnct a systcm-
atic thcory of "transpcrsona| dcfcnccs" Laing ty.i z ) , whi|c Lacan dchncd thc
unconscious not in tcrms ofan inncr wor|d of instinct and dcsirc but in tcrms of
thc transpcrsona| wor|d of intcntions and proj cctions that |ics about us, "thc dis-
courscof thc Lthcr" dc Wac|hcns t yU. z-y, |amcson t yz. t U) . 5uchpara-
digmshifts towardanotionofthcunconsciousascmbodicdandsocia||ycmbcddcd
suggcstthat thc Wcstcmmodc| ofthc unconscious iscomingto rcscmb|c thc^fri-
canonc. Howcvcr, as I havca|rcadyargucd, itispcrhapsmorc instructivctostudy
thcsc modc|s at thc |cvc| ofusc rathcr than in thc abstract. 1 9
Jhis brings mc to mysccondpoint. a|though ^frican andWcstcmmodc|sof
thc unconscious somctimcs sccm to rcscmb|c cach othcr cpistcmo|ogica||y, thcy
dihcr pragmatica||y, in both thc intcrcsts thcy scrvc and thc socia| va|ucs thcy
imp|y. Lonsidcr, forinstancc, two inucntia|Wcstcm modc|softhc unconscious,
thosc ofrcud andLvi-5trauss. Whi|c thcy may bc contrastcdoncpistcmo|ogica|
grounds Kossi t yq) , thcy tcnd to havc simi|arsociopo|itica|conscqucnccs. both
thc psychoana|yst and thc structura| anthropo|ogist cmp|oy conccpts and j argons
Ajala' s Hea 47
that arc sc|dom a a mtter of practical or moral necessity madc consonant with thc
cthosofthc pcop|c thcystudy.
^hicandivincrs andthcirc|icnts, howcvcr, sharc

a common wor|d vicw. Morcovcr, thc divincrs assumc no pcrsona| authority and
accruc no socia| advantagc from thcir ski||s, thcy act as transmittcrs of mcssagcs
hom thc cxtrasocia| wor|d which thcir c| icnts thcn act upon, usua||y by making
asacrihcc|ackson i yUb) . sychoana|ystsandanthropo|ogists, onthcothcrhand,
gainauthorityandprcstigcbyusingafctishi:cdnotionofthcunconscioustoundcr-
minc thc immcdiatc sc|f-undcrstandingand praxisofothcrs, insinuating into thcir
consciousncss a so-ca||cd "obj cctivc" undcrstanding whosc origins in thcana|yst's
own pcrsona| and socia| situations arc maskcd or scotomaci:cd.
'
In othcr words,
thc division bctwccn conscious and unconscious corrcsponds to a social division
bctwccn thc knowing subj cct and thc "obj ccts" ofknow|cdgc. thc "disturbcd" pa-
ticnt or thc "ignorant" savagc.
Jo bc surc, ^fricans a|so cxp|oit rcstrictcd codcs

andthc"unknown"tocrcatcsocia|distinctionsbctwccninitiatcsandnoninitiatcs,
c|dcrsandj uniors, mcn andwomcn, but thcsystcmaticmanipu|ationofknow|cdgc
to maintain massivc hicrarchica| structurcs of incqua|ity is a singu|ar|y Wcstcm
phcnomcnon.
My third point conccms thc rc|ation bctwccn ^hican and Wcstcm modc|s
ofthc unconsciousand socia| idco|ogy. Inhiscomparisonofconscicncc in u|ani
and Wcstcm socictics, au| Kicsman assumcs, a|bcit "provisiona||y, " that thc u-
|ani |ack a strong|y intcma| i:cd supcrcgo. "Jhc critica| dcmands ofconscicncc-
thcsupcrcgo . . . havctorc|ymorc hcavi|yoncxtcma|rcprcscntativcs, " i . c. , "thc
actua| prcscncc ofothcrs (aun) " i yy. i , i ) .
' Kicsman's vicw corrcsponds

to a vicw widc|y hc|d among^fricanists, that^hicans tcnd to cxtcriori:c and bc-
stowsocia| andbodi|y idcntity uponproccsscswhichWcstcmcrstcndtoscc as ab-
stract and intrapsychic. Lodfrcy Licnhardt summari:cd thc crucia| dihcrcncc.
The Dinka have no conception which at all closely corresponds to our popular modem
conception of the "mind" as mediating and, as it were, storing up the experiences of
the self. There is for them no such interior entiry to appear, on refection, to stand
between the experiencing self at any given moment and what is or has been an exterior
infuence upon the self. So it seems that what we would call in some cases the "memo
ries" of experiences, and regard therefore as in some way intrinsic and interior to the
remembering person and modifed in their efect upon him by that interiority, appear
to the Dinka as exteriorly acting upon him, as were the sources fom which they de
rived. ( 1 96 1 : 1 49)
^ prob|cm with thi s kind ofaccount of^frican conccptions ofthc sc|f, as
Licnhardthimsc|fpointsouti U . i q-qy ) , isthatoncmaybcmis|cdintothink-
ing that cmpirica| and cpistcmic |cvc|s ofundcrstanding arc idcntica|. Howcvcr,
thc |ackofcmphasisonintcriorityinOinkaandu|anithoughtdocsnotncccssar-
i |yrccctamoda|ityofsc|f-cxpcricnccwho||ydihcrcntfromourown, itmaysimp|y
rcprcscnt a dihcrcnt idco|ogica| representtion ofcxpcricncc. My own vicw is that
thc rc|ation bctwccn human cxpcricncc of thc wor|d and idco|ogica| rcprcscnta-
tions ofthc wor|d is nonisomorphic and indctcrminatc. Lct us rctum to thc qucs-
tion ofthc supposcd |ack ofa strong|y intcma|i:cdsupcrcgo among thc u|ani.
Inthchrstp|acc, cmpirica||yand|ogica||y, some u|animustactoutofinncr
mora|compu|sionsincc, asMc|ford5pirohasobscrvcd, "Ifnormswcrcnotintcma|-
i:cd, parcnts wou|dhavcnonc to transmittothcirchi|drcn bccausc, ex hypothsi,
thcy wou|d not havc intcma| i:cd any in thc coursc of thcir own socia|i:ation"
t t . t t U) . In thc sccond p|acc, my own Kuranko rcscarch indicatcs that whi|c
pcop|cexplin proccsscsofmora|rctribution ( hk) as amnctionofdisturbcdintcr-
pcrsona| rc|ationships, i . c. , in tcrms of cxtcrior, nonpsychic mcchanisms-cascs
ofwitchcraft confcssion show that inncr mora| qua|ms and gui|t arc j ust as much
a part of Kuranko exerence as thcy arc of ours scc chaptcr ) . In any socicty,
thcrcforc, convcntiona| modcs ofcxp|ainingphcnomcnashou|dbc sccn not asdc-
scriptionsof|ivcdcxpcricnccbutasintcrprctationsandrationa|i:ationsthatrcf|cct
thc cxigcncics ofthc sociopo|itica| ordcr. Kicsman himsc|f makcs this vcry point,
showing that thc u|ani cmphasis on community makcs it appropriatc for thcm
to scc "psychic" phcnomcna as functions ofsocia| rc|ationships. by contrast, thc
strong|y individua|isticcthosofthc Wcstcmwor|dcntai|sa conccption ofthc pcr-
son as skin-cncapsu|atcd and autonomous, with a uniquc inncr | ifc that is not rc-
ducib|c to socia| proccsscs t yy. y t -y) .
If, as I havc argucd, thc ana|ogy bctwccn rcudian and ^frican modc|softhc
unconscious is simp|istic and misconccivcd, how viab|c is thc cxistcntia| ana|ogy
I havcproposcd bctwccn 5artrcanandWcst^fricannotionsoffrccwi||anddctcr-
minism'
fcanyi Mcnkitic|aims that ^frican and cxistcntia| conccptions ofthc pcrson
arc radica||y dihcrcnt, dcspitc thc fact that "on thc facc of things" cxistcntia|ism
sccms a "natura| a||y" of^frican thought t Uq. t yy-yU) . ^ccording to Mcnkiti ,
5artrcrcgardsmanas"ahccunconditioncdbcing, abcingnotconstraincdbysocia|
or historica| circumstanccs" t yU) . 5uch a vicw is who||y incompatib|c with thc
onto|ogica| priority givcn in ^frican wor|d vicws to thc socia| ground ofhuman
cxistcncc. Howcvcr, this charactcri:ation of 5artrc' s vicws is bascd on Mcnkiti' s
rcading of a t q |ccturc 5artrc pub|ishcd but subscqucnt|y rcpudiatcd 5artrc
t y) and ignorcs 5artrc's cmphasis on thc dia|cctic bctwccn thc givcn socio-
historica| conditions ofcxistcncc and thc human proj cct which both rcvca|s and
surpasscs thcm. In 5artrc' s own words, "mcn makc thcir history on thc basis of
rca| , prior conditions . . . but it is the men who makc it and not thc prior condi-
tions. Lthcrwisc mcn wou|d bc mcrc|y thc vchic|cs of inhuman forccs which
through thcm wou|d govcm thc socia| wor|d" t U. Uy) .
Jhc phi|osophcr Kwasi Wircdu argucs that such a conccption ofhccdom is
fatuous. Litingthccascofa conhrmcd drunkard, hc obscrvcs. "Itwou|dsurc|ybc
a poor assurancc of hcc wi|| to point out that it is sti|| opcn to him whcthcr hc
wi || drink 'akpctcshic' or bccr, or that hc can vcry wc|| choosc which bars to hc-
qucnt" t Uo. t) . Wircduthcna||cgcsthat^fricantraditiona|thoughtisprcdomi-
nant|yfata|istic. "^sthc traditiona| saying gocs, thcrc is no avoiding thc dcstiny
appointcd to a man by Lod ( Onyame nkrbea nni kwatibea) " t -zo) .H Wircdu
fai |s, howcvcr, to distinguish bctwccn thc rctrospcctivc rationa|i:ations ofmisfor-
tunc which tcnd, in a|| socictics, to smack offata|ism and rcsignation) and thc
attitudcspcop|cadopt inthcfaccof| ifc, which, aswchavc sccn, tcnd tocmphasi:c
Aja' s Hea 49
pcrsona|rcsponsibi|ity. Kcscarch into othcrpcop|c' sbc|icfs must a|waysspccithc
contcxt in which thcy arc invokcd and uscd, prcscriptivc va|ucs and post hoc ra-
tiona|i:ations arc sc|dom commcnsuratc. If wc arc kcpt hom sccing thc contcxt
in which a bc| icf is uscd thcn wc arc inc|incd, by dcfau|t, to construc thc bc|icf
inways a|icn to thc uscr, conccming oursc|vcs with its cpistcmo|ogica| status, its
cohcrcncc, |ogica|ity, corrcspondcncctorca|ity, andsoon. Jhccontradictionsbc-
twccn fata|isticandnonfata|istic attitudcs todcstiny in Wcst^frican thought arc
thus morc apparcnt than rca|. ^s Hc|ainc Minkus obscrvcs in hcr study of
^kwapim ^kan notions ofdcstiny (nkrabea) , informants wou|d common|y spcak
ofthcirdcstinicsasprcordaincdandticdtothcdcstinicsofothcrs inc|udingdivin-
itics) . butapcrson"isnotthoughttobcapassivcvictimorobjcctofforccscxtcma|
to him and tota||y bcyond his inucncc. " Much thathappcnsto him "isrcgardcd
as j ustihab|y and prcdictab|y procccding . . . hom his own prccipitating acts"
i Uq. i qo) .
'
^nothcrprob|cmwithcxistcntia|thcoricsisthcirdivcrsityandcu|tura|rc|ativ-
ity, somcthing which might sccm to disqua|i thcm from bcing uscd to cstab|ish
univcrsa|sinhumancxpcricncc. Jhis argumcnt hasbccnforccm||yputby Ha||cn
i y) , but in charactcri:ing Hcidcggcr's and 5artrc' s thought in ways which
hcightcn itscontrastwith^hicanthought, Ha||cn, |ikc Mcnkiti , fai|s to cxp|orc
arcasinwhich itispotcntia||ymostcdiing. Morcovcr, byarguingthatcxistcntia|
thcoricsusua||ysccktocstab|ishunivcrsa|csscnccs, hcscrious|ymisrcprcscnts5ar-
trc andfai|sto undcrstandthatthcpossibi|ityofintcrcstingcross-cu|tura|compari-
son ahordcd by some cxistcntia| idcas docs not imp|y any univcrsa| truth c|aims
about human cxpcricncc. Lur scarch is for somc commonground or vocabu|ary
thatwi||scrvc as a point ofdcparturc for comparison anddia|oguc acrosscu|turcs,
it isnot a scarch for univcrsa| truths or csscnccs.
^ mrthcr dimcu|ty in comparing cxistcntia| andWcst ^frican modc|sofhcc
wi|| and dctcrminism ariscshom thc manncr in which thc modc|s arc articu|atcd.
Lar|icr, I rcmarkcd thc c|oscpara||c|ismwhichOcvcrcuxdiscovcrcdbctwccn Mo-
havc and rcudian modc|s of psychopatho|ogy. but, as Ocvcrcux himsc|f notcs,
thcrc arc signihcant dihcrcnccs bctwccn thcsc modc|s. irst, thc Mohavc do not
systcmati:c thcir psychiatric know-how into a sing|c cohcrcnt ctio|ogica| thcory
ofmcnta|disordcr. 5ccond, Mohavcpsychiatricbc|icfs arcarticu|atcdin"supcmat-
ura|istic" rathcr than natura|istic tcrms Ocvcrcux i b. -i ) . Lomparab|c dif-
fcrcnccs cxist bctwccn traditiona| ^frican and Wcstcm cu|tura| thought modc|s,
whcthcrofrcudorof5artrc. Whi|cI havc argucd thatsuchdihcrcnccsmakcthc
ana|ogybctwccnrcudianandWcst^hicannotionsofthcunconsciousuntcnab|c,
I bc|icvc thcy arc far |css prob|cmatic in thc casc ofthc ana|ogy I havc drawn bc-
twccn5artrcan andWcst ^frican notions ofhccwi||anddctcrminism.
Myj ustihcation for this position takcs intoaccount thc spccia| phi|osophica|
sty|c ofcxistcntia|ismandthc arcaofits conccms. or cxistcntia|ism, asfor tradi-
tiona| ^frican thought, bcing is notfragmcntcd and atomi:cd but dispcrscd into
thcwor|d inthcform ofhumanrc|ationships, intcntions, andproj ccts. Insccking
to undcrstand thc wor|dwc situatcoursc|vcssquarc|ywithin itrathcr than taking
up a vantagc point outsidc it 5artrc i Uz. zo, t ) . Jhis antipositivist stancc im-
p|ics that cxistcntia|ism is skcptica| about "systcmatic" phi|osophy and thc who|c
proj cct of mirroring thc wor|d in our thought Korty i y) . Lxistcntia|ism docs
not scck to privi|cgc its vocabu|ary as rcprcscnting thc "tnth" or "csscncc" of
things , and dcspitc thc arcanc idiomof5artrc' smaj or trcatiscs thcrc isno striving
to discngagc thc wor|dofhisdiscourscfrom thc wor|dofothcrs.26 Kathcrthan cx-
p|ain thc wor|d, 5artrc ohcrs us an "cdiing" vicw of it by intcrrogating sharcd
cxpcricnccsfromcvcryday |ifc. qucuing at a bus stop, rcading a ncwspapcr, bcing
ga:cd upon in thc strcct, confronting anti-5cmitism.
Whcnoncconsidcrsthcconccmsrathcrthanthcsty|cofcxistcntia|andtradi-
tiona|^frican thought, thcrc is againa strikingconsonancc. Ocspitc sociocu|tura|
dihcrcnccs thcrc is a common prcoccupation with our human strugg|c bcnccn
yic|ding to thc brutc facticity of cxistcncc-thc scnsc of bcing abandoncd or
thrown into a wor|dmadcbyothcrsatothcrtimcs-andthc ncccssity ofappropri-
ating, addrcssing, andcxpcricncing thatwor|das somcthing for whichwc arcrc-
sponsib|c, somcthing wc bringintobcing, somcthing wc choosc. Jhcmanncr in
which a pcrson | ivcs this stngg|c cannot bc cxp|aincd who||y in tcms of his or
hcr socia| idcntity, for wc arc spcaking hcrc of an issuc that ariscs hom human
cxistcncc itsc|f bcforc it is apprchcndcd or c|aboratcd in cu|turc-spccihc tcrms.
Jhus, thc anthropo|ogist's stngg|c to bc a part of anothcr cu|turc yct a|so a dc-
tachcdobscrvcrofitisbutoncinstanccofaunivcrsa|strugg|cwhich intraditiona|
Wcst ^frican socictics hnds cxprcssion in pcop|c's strugg|cs to bc crcators ofthc
vcrywor|dthathascrcatcdthcm. 27 nsum, cxistcntia|ismp|accssocia|factswithin
a univcrsa| onto|ogica| pcrspcctivc. ^ccording|y, wc ncithcr prcsumc "scicntihc"
statusforourwor|dvicwsinordcrtogivcthcmauthorityand|cgitimacy, nordcign
to |abc| thc wor|d vicws ofothcr "fo|k" as a sign of thcir cpistcmo|ogica| inadc-
quacy. "Lur" wor|d vicws arc p|accd on a parwith "thcirs" and sccnnot as"truc"
accounts of"cxtcma| rca|i ty" but as ways ofhc|ping us copc with | ifc, ofmaking
thc wor|d makc scnsc.28 fthcrc is a contcxt in which wc can uscm||y comparc
thc rcudiannotionofthcunconsciouswithtraditiona|^fricannotionsofthcun-
known it is an cxistcntia| onc, thc contcxt of |ivcd cxpcricncc, in which thcrc
is a|ways a scnsc ofsomcthing a|icn, opprcssivc, prcdctcmincd, and pcriphcra| to
consciousncss-thc |imits within whichour praxis is conhncd Ly i yU. z) .
butsuchavicwrcj cctsthcscicntihcprctcnsionsofpsychoana|ysis, sccingi t simp|y
as onc instancc of how human thought cvcphcrc sccks to rcconci|c a scnsc
of pcrsona| frccdom with an cqua||y strong scnsc of bcing conditioncd and
contingcnt.29
FOUR
How to Do Things with Stones
Most human bcings hnd thc a|catory, unccrtain charactcrofcxistcncc hard to ac-
ccpt. Lnccrtainty is mct with anxictyandconstrucdas a prob|cm. tis a prob|cm
for both thought and action bccausc most pcop|c sccm to nccd thc conso|ation
ofa wor|d that is in essence as rationa||y ordcrcd as thcir thoughts about it can bc,1
and thcy sccm to bc ab|c to act in thc wor|d on|y whcn thcy arc conhdcnt thcir
actions wi|| havc a rcasonab|c chancc of achicving ccrtain cnds. ^|though many
pcop|c acccpt, and cvcn cu|tivatc and cnj oy, indctcrminacy as in gamcs of
chancc andriskyvcnturcs) , thcrc is athrcsho|dofto|cranccbcyondwhichchancc
ccascs to bc a mattcr ofrisks wi||ing|y takcn and bccomcs an cxtcma| tyranny to
bc dcspcratc|y avoidcd.
Jhischaptcrisancxp|orationofwhatmightbcca||cdthcprob|cmofthca|ca-
tory. approach this prob|cm through a dctai|cd cthnographic accountofdivina-
torypracticcsamongthc Kuranko of5icrra Lconc. KathcrthanconsidcrKuranko
di vinationso|c|yfromthc pointofvicwofanoutsidcobscrvcr, howcvcr, cxtrapo-
|atc from and discuss my own cxpcricnccs of consu|ting Kuranko divincrs, thus
comp|cmcnting obscrvation and nativc cxcgcsis with insights gaincd as a partici-
pant
Lbscrvation and participation havc convcntiona||y bccn conf|atcd in socia|
anthropo|ogy and thc oxymoronic naturc ofthc so-ca| |cd participant-obscrvation
mcthodo|ogy ovcr|ookcd. npracticc onc canobscrvc and participatc succcssivc|y
butnotsimu|tancous|y. Morcovcr, sincc obscrvationandparticipationyic|ddihcr-
cnt kinds of data, convcntiona||y |abc|cd obj cctivc and subj cctivc, our rcscarch
mcthodo|ogy in socia| anthropo|ogy itself brings us facc to facc wi th thc prob|cm
of indctcrminacy. Mcaning is constitutcd through an interlay of proccdurcs prc-
tcnding to bc inductivc and a wc|tcr of intcrprctivc prcfcrcnccs and prcj udiccs
, Foppcr i ) . urcobj cctivity has, thcrcforc, no"obj cctivc"status, it is asmuch
a prcformcd, socia||y constitutcd attitudc as thc notion ofpurc subj cctivity.
^s Hciscnbcrg has notcd, this indctcrminacy princip|c imp|ics that "scicncc
al tcrsandrcfashionsthcobj cctofinvcstigation. nothcrwords, mcthodandobj cct
canno|ongcrbcscparatcd"i U. i ) . Jhchcrmcncutica|unccrtaintywccncoun-
tcr in anthropo|ogica| rcscarchcan thusbc |inkcd inoncdircction to thc prob|cm
o|know|cdgcinquantummcchanicsand, in anothcr, tothcprob|cmofprcdiction
in divination. Whcn Linstcin dcc|arcd against thc ncw physics, saying that Lod
docsnotp|aydiccwith thcunivcrsc,2 hcwas inascnscadmittingthcsamc into|cr-
ancc ofthca|catorythat, in a Kuranko vi||agc, |cads a pcrsontoscckconso|ation
in thc prcdictivc and systcmati:ing powcrsofa divincr.
n divination, as in scicncc, wc scck to rcducc ambiguity, to arrivc at provi-
siona| ccrtitudcs which wi|| ohcr us "somcthing to go on"andhc|p us copc with
and act in an unprcdictab|c wor|d. My purposc in this chaptcr, thcn, is to arguc
an approach to Kuranko divination which docs not prctcnd any cpistcmo|ogi-
ca||yprivi |cgcd orobj cctivc c|aims to know|cdgc. ^ccording|y, ha:arda vicwof
Kurankodivinationwhichdrawsoncxistcntia|andpragmatistphi|osophics , which
p|accsKurankodivinatorytcchniqucsonaparwithourownanthropo|ogica|mcth-
odsand, bystrcssingthccxpcricntia|groundsonwhichbotharcconstitutcd, argucs
that any attcmpt to distinguish thc formcr assupcrstition and thc |attcras scicncc
is misconccivcd. 3
l OLLJ V L ML J HLO5
Jhc gcncra| Kuranko tcrm for a divincr is bolomafelne | itcra||y, hand-on- |ookcr) .4
^|though pa|mistry may havc oncc bccn a divinatory tcchniquc among thc
Kuranko, thc tcrm probab|y rcfcrs to thcfactthat a divincr manipu|atcs and "|ays
down" various obj ccts pcbb|cs, cowrics, ko|a nuts) in ordcr to "scc" what kind
ofsacrihcchis c|icntshou|dohcr. Jhc commoncst divinatory tcchniquc invo|vcs
|aying out rivcr pcbb|cs on thc ground, thus an a|tcmativc tcrm for a divincr is
beresigle onc who scts down pcbb|cs) . 5 Lcss common divinatory tcchniqucs arc
sand-drawingandthc castingofko|anutsorcowricshc||s. Mus|imdivincrs ca||cd
morenu or, in Krio, "moris" or "a|phas") arc rcputcd|y ab|c to prcdict a pcrson' s
fortunc or intcrfcrc with a pcrson's dcstiny through such tcchniqucs as mirror-
ga:ing, watcr-ga:ing, astro|ogy, andonciromancy. butconsu|tingthcjuran is thc
main mcans ofMus|im divination.
^partfrom pcbb|c-divining, most tcchniqucs for bringinghiddcn things into
thcopcnarca||cgcd|yinductivc, i . c. , thcyprcsupposca"dctcrminativcproccdurc,
apparcnt|y frcc from mundanc contro| , yic|ding unambiguous dccisions orprcdic-
tions", thcy cmp|oy "nonhuman phcnomcna, cithcr artihcia| or natura| , as signs
that can bc unambiguous|y rcad. Jhc primc condition is that thc signs appcar to
bc gcnuinc, not manipu|atcd" ( Encyclopaedia Britnnica 1 974= 91 7, 91 8) . Jhcsc
tcchniqucs, fami|iarto usinpositivistsocia|scicncc, arcoftcnuscdbypcrsonswho
arc notprofcsscddivincrs, buton|yonspccihcsocia|occasions. orcxamp|c, aftcr
a man's dcath and buria|, his widows arc conhncd to thc housc for forty days
known as labinane, forty jdays| |yingdown) . ^t thc cndofthispcriodthcwidows
arc |cd to thcvi ||agcstrcamsidcbythcsonofthcsistcrofthcdcccascdman,thcrc,
c|dcr|y womcn not kinswomcn) bathc and ritua||y puri thcm. ^s part of this
purihcation ritc a ko|a nut is sp|it inha|fandthctwocoty|cdonsarcthrownonto
thcground. Ifthccoty|cdonsfa||facing inthcsamcdircction thissignihcsinvari-
ab|ythatthchusband'sspiritharborsnogricvanccagainsthiswidow. Ifthccoty|c-
donsfa||facing inoppositc dircctions thissignihcsthatthcwidownurscsa hiddcn
grudgc against hcr |atc husband or ohcndcd him whi|c hc was a|ivc. Jhc grudgc
orohcnsc (son yuguye, badbchavior) mustbc confcsscdprompt|y, ifno confcssion
How to Do Things with Stones JJ
ismadc itissaid thatthcwomanwi||fa|| i|| anddic. ^nothcrcxamp|cofunambig-
uousdivination isthc gun-hringritcpcrformcdby thc prospcctivchusbandsofthc
tcma|c ncophytcs on thc occasion of thc |attcrs' initiation |ackson i y yb. i ) .
fthc gun fai|s to hrc, this signihcs that somcthing i s amiss with thc forthcoming
marriagc, thcgir|mayhavca |ovcrorbc intcndingtoc|opc. ^divincrisconsu|tcd
by thc man's parcnts to hnd out what impcdimcnt thcrc is to thc marriagc.
Oivination through ordca| is unknown among thc Kuranko, though thc
swcar" (gborl) is somctimcs uscd in court cascs. Ifa witncss is a Mus|im hc may
bc rcquircd to swcar on thc juran. ^|tcmativc|y a ca|abash or basin containing
go|d, ko|a, sa|t , and watcr is brought. Jhc witncss swcars in pub|ic that, shou|d
hc |ic, thc go|d, ko|a, and sa|t wi|| "cut" his | ivcr. Jhcn hc chcws thc ko|a and
drinks thc watcr.
ûgurics p|ay no morc important a part in Kuranko socicty than thcy do in
ours, thc intcrprctations ofmany trivia| cvcnts arc so standardi:cdand common-
p|accthatdivincrsarcsc|domconsu|tcdaboutthcm. rcxamp|c, ifapcrsonabout
tocmbarkonsomccntcrpriscstubshis|cftfootagainstastoncthismaybcrcgardcd
as inauspicious, ifhc stubs his right foot this may bc rcgardcd as auspicious. How-
cvcr, thc cxtcnt towhich pcop|c takc scrious|yorcvcnnoticcsuchaugurics isvari-
ab|c, oftcn rcccting thc dcgrcc ofanxicty in thcir cvcryday | ifc. Jhis is a|so thc
casc with drcams, a|though drcam intcrprctation is takcn morcscrious|y than au-
guryand a divincr is usua||y consu|tcd scc|ackson i yUb. t t -z i for dctai|s) .
l J L K K L J I VL O V I l^J I Ll
n|argcrKurankovi||agcsthcrc arc scvcra|divincrs, cachcmp|oyinghisowntcch-
niquc.6 Inthc vi||agc ofKamadugu 5ukurc|a popu|ationabout o) thcrc arc hvc
divincrs. onc is a mori , oncuscscowricshc||s , thrccusc rivcrpcbb|cs. ^swc sha||
scc, thcchoiccofmcthod rcccts thcparticu|armanncr inwhichthcdivincrhrst
acquircd hisski||s, pcop|c oftcn rcmark, "It is in himsc|fhow hc docs it. " bccausc
thc profcssion ofdivination is usua||y ncithcr hcrcditary nor acquircd through an
apprcnticcship, it is worthwhi|c noting somc biographica| dctai|s of individua|
divincrs.
Kumba Wu|an ba|a 5isc ofKamadugu 5ukurc|a is a mori divincr. Hc studicd
thc juran undcr a krmorgo Mus|im tcachcr) in Luinca for scvcn ycars, thcn
rctumcdtohishomcvi ||agcwhcrc, sixycars|atcr, hcbccamcapracticingdivincr.
n i yz, whcn I hrst mct KumbaWu|an, hc had bccn in practicc for four ycars.
His faith in thc juran and in thc truth of its prophccics givc him conhdcncc in
his abi| ity to divinc. Hc continucs to study thc juran and to dccpcn his undcr-
standing of it. It is his u|timatc authority. Whcn I askcd him what hc thought
andhowhcrcactcdwhcnonc ofhisprognosticationsprovcd incorrcct, hcrcp|icd.
"Jhat conccms mc anddocs not conccm mc. thc juran docs not |i c, whatcvcr
itsays wi|| comctopassun|css Ihappcnto misintcrprct it. "Jhisrcasoning iscom-
parab|c to thc way in which non|itcratc Kuranko spcak ofbooks in gcncra| . Lon-
vcrsing oncc about our know|cdgc ofthc origins of|ifc, onc man to|d mc. "Altl
jLod| gavc |ifc, no onc knows whcn or how. 1ou on|y know what is to|d to you
or is in books. cannot rcad or writc so on|y know what has bccn to|d to mc,
andnoonchascvcrto|d mc whcrc |ifc comcs from, it is on|y throughAltal that
it is. 1ou on|y know what is bcforc you or in books. I was not thcrc whcnAltala
madc | ifc so I do not know. It might bc in thc books but cannot rcad or writc,
in any casc, books do not |ic a|though thc pcop|c who writc thcm may | ic. "
lt is charactcristic ofKuranko divincrs that any incorrcct prognosis is not rc-
gardcd as a cha||cngc to thc vcracity of thc systcm, thc fau|t is found with thc
divincr himsc|f. ^|though divincrs somctimcsgrudging|y or ob| iquc|y admittcd to
mc thcir own fa||ibi|ity, a consu|tcr who is convinccd that a ccrtain divincr is a
|iaror incpt wi||bc carcfu| not to makc pub|ic his attitudc. 5canda| or a | ibc| suit
cou|d fo||ow. Jhus, thc Kuranko sc|dom admit that a divincr or thc divinatory
systcmcou|dbcfa||ib|c. bycontrast, inothcr^fricansocicticssuchasthc^:andc,
doubt and skcpticism arc both common and opcn|y cxprcsscd Lvans-ritchard
i yz. t U ) .
Wc shou|d a|so notc hcrc that Kumba Wu|an has both Mus|im and pagan c|i-
cnts. Morcovcr, hcdocsnotscomothcrtcchniqucsorcompctcwithothcrdivincrs
to attracta |argcrc| icntc|c. nhisownwords , "Jhcya|sotc||thc truth, thcyknow
thcirownwayofdoing it, Cod[Al] instructsus a|| . " nmycxpcricncc, noobviou
riva|rics or j ca|ousics cxist among Kuranko divincrs.
Lthcr pagan divincrs do not a|ways rcccivc thcir immcdiatc inspiration and
authorityfromCod. LaiMara, a|soofKamadugu5ukurc|a, divincs with rivcrpcb-
b|cs. ^|thoughbom inMorhndugu Mongo chicfdom) , hc has | ivcd inKamadugu
5ukurc|a a|| his |ifc. ^n c|dcr|y man, pcrhaps sixty-hvc ycars o|d, Lai didnot bc-
comca divincrunti|about i U. Jhatycarhc fc|| i||witha scrious stomachsick-
ncss , andonc night, in a drcam, a pa|c-comp|cxioncdfcma|cbushspiritappcarcd
to him and gavc him thc notion of divining with rivcr pcbb|cs. Jhc fo||owing
moming hc co||cctcdsomcrivcrpcbb|cs and thcy"to|d"himwho cou|dcurc him
ofhissickncss. lcsummoncdthispcrson, akinsman, andwassubscqucnt|ycurcd.
5incc thcn hc has practiccd divination.7 Lai vowcd that hc ncvcr madc an incor-
rcct prognostication, saying, "IfI wcrc a | iar thcn pcop|cwou|dnotcomc to mc. "
^s if to substantiatc his c|aim hc mcntioncd two cascs, both ofwhich conccmcd
fricndsofminc in thc vi||agc. Hcdrcw myattcntion to thc hnc cmbroidcrcd shirt
hc was wcaring and said that somconc had givcn it to him as a tokcnofgratitudc
whcn somcthing hc had forcto|d for him "camc truc. " Jhc pcrson was bundo
Mansaray in whosc housc |odgcd. bundo had consu|tcd Lai whcn hc was about
to |cavc thc vi||agc somc ycars prcvious|y to work in thc diamond districts. Lai
had divincd that bundo wou|d makc his fortunc. bundo wcnt away and |atcr rc-
tumcdawca|thymanby|oca|standards. LnanothcroccasionMorowa' ssistcrhad
askcd Lai to tc|| hcr why shc was unab|c to conccivc a chi|d. Lai to|d hcr not to
worry, that shc wou|d havc a chi|d in thc ncarfuturc. Morowa' s sistcr did in fact
conccivc soon aftcrward. Whcthcr an incorrcct prognosiswou|d causc a consu|tcr
to go back and cha||cngc thc divincror makc himprcfcr thcrcaftcr to consu|t an-
othcrdivincr is aqucstionto which I wi||tum |atcr. but Lai' savowa|thathcwas
ncvcrwrong in hisprcdictions may havc bccn intcndcdas a wayofimprcssingmc
or it may mcan that hc ncvcr rcccivcs cvidcncc ofhis crrors.
How to Do Things with Stones 55
both Kumba Wu|an and Lai insistcd that i t wou|d bcwrong for a divincr to
makc pub|ic his prognosis or diagnosis. Jhc consu|tation is a|ways privatc, and
Kuranko divincrs considcr it wrong to discuss a c|icnt's ahairs with othcrs, such
indiscrction, it is said, wou|d |cad pcop|c to |osc trust and conhdcncc in thcm. 8
bokari Wu|arc |ivcs in Yataia, a sma|| vi||agc with a mixcd popu|ation of
Limba, Mandinka, and 5ankaran-Kuranko pcop|cssituatcd in thcWara Wara hi||s
bchind Kaba|a. Whcn hc was a young man hc is now in his fortics) hc had a
drcam in which somconc "gavc him" thc divining pcbb|cs and to|d him to pick
ccrtain|cavcsand"wash"hisfaccandcycswiththcm. Inthcmominghcrcco||cct-
cd thc drcam instructions andpickcd thc |cavcs as dircctcd, washing hisfacc and
cycs in a dccoction of thcm. rom that timc hc has bccn ab|c to "scc" mcssagcs
in thc stoncs. bokari c|aims that Cod gavc him thc origina| drcam instructions
and that it is Cod's voicc which spcaks to him whcn hc is divining. "I spcak for
Cod" was thc phrasc hc uscd.
Jhcsc thrcc cascs indicatc that divinatory ski||s arc acquircd through cc-
staticcncountcrs andcpisodcs. Lai's initiation is typica|ofothcr^fricansocictics ,
such as thc Mdcmbu Jumcr i y. zUy-UU) and thc lguni Hammond-Jookc
i . qU) , whcrc i||ncss fo||owcd by a visionary drcam is thc approvcd wayofbc-
coming a divincr. bokari's casc is rcminisccnt ofthc|ukun, whosc divincrs "havc
thcir cycs trcatcd with a |otion ofccrtain |cavcs in ordcr to confcr on thcm thc
ncccssary sccondsight" Mcck i i b. z) . Jhc idcathatdivincrs posscsscxtraor-
dinary powcrs ofinsight thcy arc said to havc"fourcycs") is common among thc
Kuranko. Jhis "sccond sight" transccnds ordinary vision. Lftcn, whi|c divining,
a Kuranko divincrwi||c|oschis cycs inordcr to"scc"thcmcssagc. In othcr^frican
socicticsthchgurcofthcb| indsccrJircsiasisthcgrcatc|assica|cxcmp|ar) ismorc
comp|ctc|yc|aboratcd. ^mong thc Oinka, thc word coor "b| ind") iscognatc with
thc wordcar "todivinc") , andb| indpcop|carcoftcnsaidtoposscssspccia|powcrs
of insight Licnhardt i i . U) .
Jhc Kuranko divincr c|car|y comcs to rcgard himsc|fas a humb|c transmittcr
ofmcssagcs from thc divinity to pcop|c. Licnhardt dcscribcs this attitudc nicc|y,
writing of a Oinka divincr. "hc sccms to scc in thatwhich has ahcctcd him thc
sc|f-dctcrmining subj cct of activity and himsc|f thc obj cct of it. cop|c do not
choosc thcir divinitics, thcy arc choscn by thcm" i i . i i ) . ' tshou|d bc notcd
that this traditiona| ^frican attitudc toward auctorits a|so obtains in thc casc of
storytc||ing, whcrc individua| authors disc|aim thcir own ro|cs in thc crcation of
a story, attributing it to somc cxtcma| sourcc of inspiration. divinity, fatc, tradi-
tion, and so forth. It is myvicw that this modc ofattribution is consistcnt with
and cntai|cd by an cthos which cmphasi:cscommunityovcr individua| ity and as-
sumcsthat thc dynamic|ifc ofbcingrca|i:cs itsc|finfelds of relationship invo|ving
pcrsons , spirits , anima|s, anccstors , divinitics , andcvcn inanimatc obj ccts) rathcr
than rcstricting itsc|f to individua| human bcings in thc form of hxcd, intrinsic
propcrtics |ackson i Uzb) . 5torytc||crs anddivincrs a| ikc ccrcmonia||y discngagc
thcir praxis from subj cctivity to givc rccognition to this widcr hc|d of bcing in
which thc individua| practitioncr p|ays a part as mcdiator, not makcr. ositivist
socia|scicncc uti|i:cs , in its arcanc vocabu|arics anddcpcrsona|i:cd sty|c, compa-
rab|c ccrcmonia| forms ofdcnying know|cdgc-constitutivc subj cctivity Ocvcrcux
i y) .
Iti s a|sonotcworthythatthc arbitraryandfortuitouscvcntswhich|cada man
to bccomc a divincrarcrcgardcdby thc divincrs thcmsc|vcsasdctcrmincd. Inthc
samcwaythcyrcgardwhatthcy"scc" inthcrandom |ayoutofthc pcbb|cs asdctcr-
mincd. Jhc divincr is a||cgcd|ypassivc and rcccptivc, thc tcchniquca||cgcd|yob-
j cctivc, thcproccdurca||cgcd|yimpcrsona| . Lxtrasocia|powcrs, cspccia||yLod, arc
said to dctcrminc and authori:c thc divinatory proccdurcs, much as in positivist
socia| scicncc, subj cctivc "intcrfcrcncc, " introj cction, and proj cction arc dcnicd.
Whcn Kuranko divination is comparcd with such sophisticatcd ^hican sys-
tcmsas thcfadivinationofthc1oruba, itappcarstobcrcmarkab|yunsystcmatic.
Lvcnwhcncomparcd withothcr divinatory systcms in 5icrra Lconc, suchas thc
an-bere ofthc Jcmnc 5haw i U ) , Kurankodivination disp|ays a |ack ofgcncra|
conscnsusaboutthcsignihcanccofparticu|arpcbb|cpattcmsandapaucityofintcr-
prctivc ru|cs or codcs. Whcn I brought this apparcnt|y idiosyncratic aspcct to thc
attcntion ofbokari Wu|arc, hc pointcdout thatdihcrcntobj ccts, tcchniqucs, and
intcrprctations arc uscd "bccausc cvcry pcrson has a dihcrcnt dcstiny. " Hc com-
mcntcd furthcr that thc individua| stoncs signi nothing, it is on|y thc pattcm
orarrangcmcntofthcmwhichismcaningm| . butthis"structura| ist"tcnctwaspro-
poundcd inassociationwith anothcr idca. thatwhcn hc uttcrs thc vcrscs ( hyenu)
which inc|udc thcnamc ofthc counsu|tcrhc rcccivcs a divinc mcssagc. Hccou|d
nothimsc|fcxp|ainwhathappcncd. "Itisj usta Lod-givcnthing. " butc|car|ythis
divinc inspirationcnab|cdhimto"scc"amcaninginthcstoncs, withoutthisinspi-
rationthcpattcmofthcpcbb|cscou|dnot bcrcad.1 0 ^sfor tcachinghistcchniquc
to othcrs, bokari rcmarkcd that hc cou|d on|y pass on his gift by having a pupi|
"wash" inthc|cavcsashchaddonc, indccd, twoofhissonshavctakcnupdivining
in this way. ina||y, |ikcothcrdivincrs withwhom I spokc on thc mattcr, Bkari
dcnicd thatdivincrsarccvcrchar|atans. "Moncprctcnd, itisnot|ikcthat. " I know
ofno cascs ofdc|ibcratc fraudu|cncc or ma|practicc frommyKuranko studics, but
thcn thc Kuranko arc not prcoccupicd by qucstions of crror and chicancry. ^s
Licnhardt has pointcd out with rcfcrcncc to thc Oinka, "thc cxpcricncc of onc
fa|scdivincr, farfromca||ingintodoubtthcabi|iticsofa||, rcmindcdthcmofmany
othcrs who rca||y had thc insight" i i . ) .
Jhis was brought homc t omci ncar|y i y whcn a hicnd, ^bdu|ai 5ano,
consu|tcddivincrs ata timcofmatcria|hardship andfai|ingconhdcncc. ^|though
nomina||y a Mus| i m, ^bdu|ai was in thc habit of consu|ting both juranic and
pagandivincrs. Lnthisparticu|aroccasionhisMus|im divincrsawinadrcamthat
^bdu|aishou|dsacrihcc a shccp, hispaganpcbb|c-divincrdircctcdthc samc sacri-
hcc as a prccondition for improvinghis fortuncs. Jhc fo||owing is cxccqtcdhom
thc convcrsation I had with ^bdu|ai thc cvcning fo||owing thc sacrihcc.
"Have you ever gone to a diviner who told you something that did not eventuate? "
"Yes. Once I went to a diviner [bolfeln] when my child was ill. I asked hi m
whether the child would live or die. The diviner told me the child would l i ve, but
the child died. "
Ho to Do Things with Stones
"Whose error was that ? "
"The diviner used cowrie shells and threw them on a mat. He told me the child
would live, yet it died. The child died through the will of Allah. But the diviner told
me a lie [unye) . "
"Why should he lie ?"
"I went to a pebble-diviner [besigil] about the same matter. He sai d that, though
miracles happen, my child would die. Therefore he is superior to the other diviner,
and I have consulted with him and taken his advice since that time. "
^ LLl 5 L LJ^J I Ll
57
Jo i ||ustratc thc charactcristicmcthodofpcbb|c-divining, I wi | | dcscr|bc a consu|-
tation in which I askcd Lai Mara to commcnt upon a troub|ing drcam I had had
thc prcvious night.
^s is customary, wc rcpaircd to a quictroom and c|oscd thc door so thatwc
wou|d not bc disturbcd. Lai sprcad his mat on thc oor, sat down, and took out
his bag ofdivining stoncs. I paid him thc usua| consu|tation fcc oftwcnty ccnts.
Laithcngavc mcfourpcbb|csandto|dmc to thinkaboutwhatcvcritwasI wishcd
to know. I did so, thcn rctumcd thc pcbb|cs to him. Hc procccdcd to chant his
vcrscs in a |ow voicc, inc|uding myhrst namc. Lharactcristica||y, thc vcrscs tcnd
tobcgarb|cd, idiosyncratic, and mcan|ng|css toanoutsidcr, thismaybcadramatic
dcv|cc intcndcd to imprcss thc consu|tcror, morc | ikc|y, a dissociativc tcchniquc
for thc divincr himsc|f. ^s hc murmurcd his vcrscs hc gcnt|y and rcpcatcd|y
knockcd thc back ofhis hand, in which hc hc|d somc ofthc pcbb|cs, against thc
oor. Many divincrs put thc coins ofthcfccwiththc pcbb|cs. Having comp|ctcd
thc vcrscsaftcrabout thirtyscconds, Laibcgan to |ayoutthc pcbb|csonthc oor,
onc byonc. Jhcfourpattcmsonthcfo||owingpagcsshowthcvarious|ayoutsdur-
ingthisconsu|tation,Lai' scommcntsandintcrprctationsarca|sonotcd. ^sistypi -
ca| , dia|oguc bctwccn thcdivincr and thc consu|tcr is min|ma|.
Withthchrstpattcm, I amcnj oincdnotto worry aboutmydrcam, I amwc||
andhavca prospcrous futurc. Jhcdrcam signihcs good fortunc. Lponconc|uding
my work in Kamadugu 5ukurc|a I wi|| cnjoy grcat happincss.
Lai thcn asks thc pcbb|cs. "Is thcrcanything to bc sacrihccd' "
With thc sccond pattcm I am instructcd toprcparc a sacrihcc ofwhitc ko|a
nuts and, aftcrconsccrating thcm, to givc thcm to a pa|c-comp|cxioncd gir| con-
notation. a virgin) . Jhis kind of sacrihcc is charactcristic of sacrihccs mcant to
conhrma good prognostication. Jhc symbo|sofwhitcncss and purityarcrcgardcd
asmcansof"kccping thcpathopcn"orofpuriing rc|at|onshipsbctwccnapcrson
and his anccstors scc|ackson i yya) .
With thc third pattcm Lai commcnts. "Wc arc safc, wc arc bcing protcctcd/
cnc|oscdbyCod, thcrc isno troub|cpcnding. " Jwo pcbb|cs U) arc movcd inaftcr
thc othcrs havc bccn |aid out. Lai cxp|ains that pcbb|cc|ustcrs i and y arc "gatcs"
or "barr|crs. "
Lai rcpcats thc good prognosis. "Your drcam is a sign ofprospcrity, you nccd
not bc ahaid, for as |ong as you rcmain in thc vi||agc thcrc wi|| bc no troub|c. "
58
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Lai rcitcratcs instructions for thc sacrihcc I must ohcr. Indccd, it is typica|for di -
vincrs tocastthc stoncs two or morc timcs to conhrm thcprognosis andhna| i:c
dctai|s ofthc sacrihcc.
^tthispointI dccidc to intcrrogatc Lai abouthismcthods. Jhcconsu|tation
bccomcsmorcrc|axcdand I rccountthcdrcamwhichbroughtmc to him. Lai |ays
outthcpcbb|csonccmorcinthcfourthpattcmandconc|udcs."Jhisisthcsacrihcc
I havc shown you, itsignihcs thatyourfami|yarc p|cascdwith what you arc doing
andoftcn spcakwc||ofyou. I havc sccn that and thcrcforc I havc to|dyouto givc
thc sacrihcc to an innoccnt gir| so that whcn you rctum homc your fami|y wi||
bc p|cascdwithyou. "
Lai |atcr asscrtcd that ncithcr thc pcbb|cs nor thc pattcms had any intrinsic
mcaning. but, as hc put it, "thcy spcak", hc simp|y rcpcatcd or transmittcd thc
mcssagc which "camc from" thc pcbb|cs. Hc a|so disavowcd bcing inucnccd by
or taking into account his know|cdgc ofpcop|c and cvcnts in thc community. If
this iscntirc|ytruc, thcnthc Kurankodivincrisquitcun|ikcthcLandcwitchdoc-
tor whosc "rcvc|ations andprophccics arcbascdon a know|cdgc of|oca| scanda|"
Lvans- ritchard i yz. o) orthcMdcmbu divincrwho uti| i:cs his know|cdgc of
How to Do Things with Stones

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59
divisions, riva|rics , andpcrsona|itics inthccommunity in ordcrto arrivc atan ap-
propriatc diagnosis Jumcr i yz. qy-qU) . Lcrtain|y thc Kuranko divincr docs not
intcrrogatc thc consu|tcr vcry much, rathcr, hc "intcrrogatcs" thc stoncs. but in
thc casc of thc consu|tation rccordcd abovc thcrc is cvidcncc that Lai' s pcrsona|
undcrstandingofmyrcscarch goa|s andmy|ikc|y anxictics as a strangcr in thc vi|-
|agcinf|ucnccdhisrcmarks.1 1 Jhathcshou|dnotbcawarcofhisownintroj cctions
is simp|y a conscqucncc ofhis conviction that hc is mcrc|y a vchic|c for passing
on mcssagcs from divinity to man. urthcrmorc, if divination is not rcgardcd as
an aspcct ofsubj cctivity andconsciousncss , thcndia|oguc bctwccn thcdivincrand
thc consu|tcr is unncccssary. Jhc abscncc ofany cxtcndcd dia|oguc during a con-
su|tation may a|sobc cxp|aincd in tcrmsofthcfactthatKuranko divination tcnds
to bc conccmcd with prospcctivc rathcr than prior conditions. Jhc Kuranko di-
vincr is |css intcrcstcd in thccauscanddiagnosis ofa consu|tcr's condition than
in discovcringwhatcoursc ofaction is rcquircd to rcassurc a troub|cd mind, avoid
somc misfortunc, sccurcprospcrity, c|arisomc confusion. Jhc divincrcharactcr-
istica||ydchncshistaskasoncof"sccingasacrihcc", thisdocsnot invo|vc ascarch-
ing ana|ysis ofthc individua|andsocia|situation inwhichthc consu|tcr hndshim-
sc|f. Jhcrc is no "socia| ana|ysis" such as Jumcr |ucid|y dcscribcs in his studics of
Mdcmbu divination i yz, i y ) . orthc Kuranko consu|tcr thc cmphasis is thus
upon anticipatory know|cdgc which faci|itatcs activity. making a sacrihcc accord-
ingtothcprccisc instructions givcnbythcdivincr. Jhisactivitycnab|csanabrcac-
tion of anxicty. Morc gcncra||y, thc futurc, which Kuranko associatc with unccr-
tainty and anxicty, is "annu||cd", itbccomcs |ikc thc past, which is thc sourcc of
know|cdgc and thc domain ofccrtitudc.
or both divincrandconsu|tcritwou|dsccm that itis on|y whcn thcprognosis
is associatcdwithobjcctivcandcxtcma|c|cmcnts i . c. , isdiscngagcdhom subj cc-
tivity) thatactivity isfaci|itatcd. Ifcxtcma| powcrsandagcncicssuchasCodand
thc bushspiritshavcanymnctiona| importancc in Kuranko socicty it is thcrcforc
in thc manncr in which thcy cnab|c individua|s activc|y to dctcminc thcir own
situation o behve a if thy could do so. 5uch divinc catcgorics do not constitutc
a rationa|c for thc abncgationofthc wi|| orfor co||cctivc acquicsccncc in a bc|icf
in cxtcma| causation. Jhc paradox hcrc and onc which is imp| icd whcrcvcr wc
hnd a cu|tura| commitmcnt to bc|icfs in catcgorics of cxtcma| causation) is that
a"bc| icf" incxtcma|indcpcndcntagcncicsorpowcrssccmsoftcntobcancccssary
prcconditionfor pcop|c to assumc rcsponsibi| ityfor thcirown situationsanddcsti-
nics.
Jhc proccssofdistancingordiscngagingfrom subj cctivity no mattcrhowi||u-
sorymayconstitutc, forourpurposcs, an adcquatc dchnitionofmagic cf. Khcim
i yo, Lcvi-5trauss i . i Uz, i y-U) . Lbjcctsorwordsarcinvcstcdwiththccmo-
tionsandcvcntsthcystandfor. Itispcrhapsworthwhi|cpointingoutthatmagica|
activity dihcrs from thc apparcnt|y idcntica|bchaviorofthc insanc insofar as thc
formcrdocsnot invo|vc a fai|urc to distinguishbctwccnthc obj ccts or words and
thc things thcyarcmadctostandfor. I wi||rctum to this point whcndiscussing
thc rc|ationship bctwccn bc| icfand cxpcricncc.
Oivinationcntai|sacommitmcntby both divincrandconsu|tcrto thcparticu-
|armagica|dcviccsthata||owcxtcma|i:ation, obj cctihcation, andsystcmati:ation.
Jhc outcomc ofthc consu|tation is a ncgotiatcd synthcsisofthc divincr's and thc
consu|tcr'spcrccptionsandpcrsuasions. Jhc imp|icitco||usionhcrc makcsitpossi -
b|c for thc individua| consu|tcr to do somcthing about hi s particu|ar situation
makc a sacrihcc as dircctcd) and it a|so makcs it possib|c for othcrs to act with
him in making thc sacrihcc) , sincc his particu|ar prob|cm has bccn dchncd in
tcrms of co||cctivc|y rccogni:cd catcgorics. Jhc |attcr proccss is simi|ar to what
arkca||sthccstab|ishmcntof"chcctivcconscnsus"i . i ) orthc|cgitimi:ing,
ccrtiing functions ofdivination. but thc proccss ofcxtcma|i:ation invo|vcs two
para||c|transitions. thcconsu|tcrsurpasscsthcchaoticand inchoatcstatc inwhich
hc hnds himsc|fand, through socia|action, iscnab|cd to assumc rcsponsibi|ityfor
and dctcrminchisown situation, and thc consu|tcr'ssituationisc|assihcdaccording
to co||cctivc dogmas ofcausation and, as a conscqucncc, thc group fami|y, sub-
c|an, or vi||agc) is cnab|cd to act dccisivc|y and systcmatica||y to dctcrminc its
situation. Jhc divincr's ro|c can thus bc undcrstood as onc which ccrcmonia|i:cs
thctransitionfrom incrtiato activity, a transitionuponwhichboth individua|and
group cxistcncc dcpcnds. 5omc of thc psycho|ogica| and cxistcntia| imp|ications
ofthis shift from passivity to activity wi|| now bc considcrcd.
jLL 5 JI LM 5 L V L K I I L^J I LM
Many writcrs havc sought to cxp|ain how it is possib|c for divincrs to maintain
crcdibi|i ty andprotcctthc authority ofthcsystcmwhcnthcrc is such a grcatdca|
of incvitab|c crror in prognoscs and diagnoscs irth t . t o- t , Lcvi-5trauss
t . t , ortcs t . qt q, ark t . t , Horton t y. zqq-qU) . Indccd, thc
studyofpurc|yforma|propcrticsandprob|cmsofbc|icfsystems has, tosomccxtcnt,
cc|ipscd thc study of how bc|icfs arc uscd and manipu|atcd in actua| situations.
but bcforc taking up thc crucia| issuc ofpraxis, |ct mc summari:c thc manyways
in which anthropo|ogists havc shown how thc crcdibi|ity ofdivinatory systcms is
protcctcd.
5omctimcs, as among thc ldcmbu, thc oracu|arc|cmcnt is abscnt hom thc
systcm. "Oivincrsdisc|osc whathas happcncd, and do not forctc|| cvcnts" Jumcr
t yz. zy) . rcqucnt|y, prognostications arc imprccisc, impcrsona| , or conditiona|
andthusdimcu|ttocha||cngcconhdcnt|yinrctrospcct Lvans-ritchard t yz. t y ,
Jumcr t yz. o) . ^nd a divincr's pronounccmcnts arc usua||y hc|d tobc inspircd
bydivincagcncics, thcvcracityofthcdivincwordisnotca||cdintoqucstion, on|y
thcmcdiatoryski||softhcdivincr. 5omccxccptionstothisru|carcknown. ^mong
thcLimba, "ifaprcdictionordiagnosistumsouttobcfa|sc, thcnthisisintcrprctcd
as bcing bccausc thc spirit on that occasion to|d him thc divincr) a |i c, it is not
thc man that is to b|amc" inncgan t . t t ) . Mcck rcports that among thc
|ukun"a|imit isscttothcpowcrofthcdiviningapparatusbythcbc|icfthatdcitics
andanccstra|spiritsmayuscthcapparatus inordcrtogivc|yingmcssagcsfor thcir
own purposcs" t t b. zy ) .
^ divincr usua||y dirccts a sacrihcc and spccihcs cxact ru|cs and proccdurcs
which thc consu|tcr must fo||ow ifthc sacrihcc is to bc cfhcacious. Jhis incrcascs
thc |ikc| ihood or probabi |i ty ofan crror bcing madc by thc consu|tcr. 5hou|d thc
sacrihccnot |cadto thc cxpcctcdadvantagcs, thcnb|amc maybc attributcdto thc
consu|tcr rathcr than thc divincr. ^|tcmativc|y, intnsivc countcrmagic may bc
found to bc thc causc ofthc fai|urc. Jhc Kuranko somctimcsaccountfor thc incf-
fcctivcncssofasacrihccbyc|aimingthatwitchcsintcrfcrcd with itorbysuggcsting
that somc ofthc mcn attcnding thc sacrihcc and rccciving mcatfrom ithad bccn
invo|vcd in |ovcahairswith cachothcrs'wivcs. 5uchb|ankctrationa|i:ations can-
not, ofcoursc, bc substantiatcd. Ita|so happcns that somc consu|tcrs dcrivc sum-
cicnt comfort from a divincr's advicc to ncg|cct making a conhrmatory sacrihcc.
Jhis is oftcn thc casc whcn a prognosis is good, if it is bad a pcrson wi|| bc |css
inc|incd to risk ncg|ccting thc sacrihcc which wi|| avcrt thc anticipatcd disastcr.
I know this to bc somctimcs thc casc with thc Kuranko, and thc ncg|cctofsacri-
hccs, particu|ar|ythoscdircctcdby a divincr, isoftcn citcdas acauscofapcrson's
misfortunc.
"Lonvcrging scqucncc" thcory may providc a dcfcnsc mcchanism for thc sys-
tcm. Hcrc scvcra|possib|ccauscsmaybcrcfcrrcdto incxp|aininganysing|cchcct.
^n initia| diagnosis mayindicatc onccausc anccstors, bushspirits, Cod) butac-
tion thcncitcs anothcrfactor orpcrccivcs othcr c|cmcntswhichbcaron thccon-
su|tcr`s situation. Jhc systcm itsc|fis thusncvcr subj cct to doubt Horton t y.
zqq-qU) .
Jrickcry and dc|ibcratc dcccption may bc cmp|oycd by thc divincr, as among
thc^:andc Lvans- ritchard i yz. pt. z, chap. z ) . Insomccascsthcconsu|tcrmay
unconscious|y fu|h|| a ccrtain prophccy or "crcatc" cvidcncc that corroboratcs a
diagnosis. ^nd, ofcoursc, many diagnoscs arc corrcct and many prognostications
provc to bc truc scc, for cxamp|c, Moorc t y on thc cfhcacy ofscapu| imancy
among thc Maskapi ) . Ln|ycorroborativc cvidcncc is noticcdand it is "casy to ob-
tain conhrmations , or vcrihcations, forncar|y cvcry thcory-ifwc |ookforconhr-
mations" oppcr t . ) . Lr wc cou|d say that thcrc is no intcrcst shown in
thc fa|sihcation or rcfutation of thc systcm somcthing for which on|y onc
countcrcxamp|c isrcquircd) . Jhcrcasonforthis|ackofintcrcstindiscrcditingthc
divincrorcha||cnging thc truth ofthc divinatory systcm maybc cxp|aincdby thc
fo||owing discussion.
Lct mc cmphasi:c oncc morc thc prob|cm of thc a|catory. ^ pcrson gocs to
a divincrwhcn hc orshc is troub|cd andconfuscd, unab|c to makc a dchnitcdcci -
sion or choosc bctwccn a|tcmativc courscsofaction. Jhc fo||owing di|cmmas arc
thosc most oftcn mcntioncd by thc Kuranko as rcasons for sccking thc advicc of
a divincr. In cach instancc, a "| imina|" situation prcscnts itsc|f-tcmpora||y and
spatia||y "bctwixt and bctwccn" Jumcr i yo) , charactcri:cd by choiccs that can-
not casi|y bc madc and opcn to advcntitious inucnccs.
A womn cannot conceive a child. Jhissituation admits twokinds ofcxp|ana-
tion. ci thcr thc husband is infcrti|c-a possibi| ity that is usua||yrationa|i:cd away
scc |ackson i yyb. Uy)-or thc wifc is barrcn. Jhc unccrtainty of thc situation
ariscsfromthc difhcu|tyofknowingwhcthcrthcwomanwi||ever conccivca chi|d
tcmporary barrcnncss is not uncommon) .
A woman h a long and diffcult labor. ^ divincr may bc consu|tcd to hnd out
whcthcr thc causc is a bush spirit or not. Ifa bush spirit is invo|vcd thc woman
wi|| bc takcn to anothcrhouscfor thc dc|ivcry.
A man is about to mry. ^ divincr may bc consu|tcd to hnd out whcthcr thc
wifc wi|| bcarhimchi |drcn ornot, whcthcror notthcmarriagc wi|| bringb|csscd-
ncss and goodfortunc, and so forth.
A man is about to brush his far. ^divincrmaybcconsu|tcdtohnd outwhcthcr
or not thcrc arc bush spirits in thc vicinity so that propitiatory sacrihccs can bc
madc to thcm.
A person is about to embark upon a jourey. ^ divincrmay bcconsu|tcdto hnd
out whcthcr or not onc wi|| rctum safc|yor accomp|ish onc's mission.
A person is trubled by a dream. ^ divincr wi|| bc ab|c to say whcthcr or not
it is auspicious.
A kinsman is ill. ^ divincrmaybc consu|tcd to hndoutwhcthcrthc sickncss
is"natura|" (altala kiriye, sickncsscauscdbyCod) or"human" (margo kiriye, sick-
ncsscauscd by human agcncy-witchcraft or sorccry) .
A sickness o disease does not respond to treatment sugested by a bcsctigi(medicine
mster) . Ln|ikc thc Mcndc divincrs, who arc somctimcs hca| ing doctors Harris
and 5awycrr i U. ) , thc Kuranko besetigi is ncvcr a divincr and a divincr ncvcr
practiccs thcrapcutic mcdicinc. Mcdica| know|cdgc is acquircdthrougha |ongap-
prcnticcship, notthroughrcvc|ation or vision.
A kinsmn (particulrly a child) dies sudenly. Witchcraft may bc suspcctcd in
such cascs and thc mcn`s witch-dctccting cu|t, Gbangbe, wi|| bc ca||cd out. How-
cvcr, an ordinary divincr is usua||y consu|tcd hrst.
A man is about to hve his son or daughter initiated. ^ divincr`s ana|ysis ofthc
chi|d` s situation wi|| cnab|c him to dircct appropriatc sacrihccs to maximi:c thc
contcstant` s chanccs ofsucccss. Lftcn hc wi|| bc adviscd to kccp thc company of
a pa|c-comp|cxioncd virgin gir|.
A man is about to build a house. Jhc divincr wi|| dircct appropriatc sacrihccs
for thc housc sitc usua||y a whitc f|ag is hung from a po|c on thc sitc) , hc wi||
a|soj udgc whcthcrornotthcsitc is"c|car"ofthcinf|ucnccsofthcspiritsofprcvi-
ous sctt|crs.
In a|| of thc abovc situations, divination works, in Mcycr ortcs`s words, as
"aritua|mcansofmakingachoicc" i . q i ) . Jhcdivincrmakcsanuncquivoca|
dccisionconccminghisc|icnt, quitcsimp|y, adiagnosisorprognosisisgivcnwhich
is cithcr auspicious or inauspicious. Jhc divincr thcn conccntratcs on "sccing" a
sacrihcc and instructing his c|icnt in thc prcciscproccdurcs for making it. ^|most
cvcry sacrihcc wi|| inc|udc at |castoncdircctivcpccu|iarto it. 5acrihccsarcgcncr-
a||y of two kinds. piacu|ar, to avcrt disastcr or ward oh cvi | , or conhrmatory, to
assist thc rca| i:ation of an auspicious forccast. ai|urc to ohcr thc sacrihcc or to
fo||ow thc cxact instructions givcn for it incrcascs onc`s chanccs ofbcing struck
down by i|| fortunc. 5uch a fai|urc cou|d a|so bc uscd as a rcady cxp|anation if
and whcn misfortunc fc| | .
Kuranko divination has, tousc arsonian tcrms , an cxprcssivc and an instru-
mcnta| aspcct cf. bcattic i q. i ) . Yct, by bcing instrumcnta| in assisting a pcr-
songctbackinto rc|ationwithhisorhcrsituationand act upon it, divinationmcdi -
atcs an cxprcssion of a univcrsa| human nccd for autonomy and undcrstanding.
Jhc divincr`s ana|ysis transforms unccrtainty into a provisiona| ccrtainty, and his
instructions for an appropriatc sacrihcc cnab|cthcconsu|tcr to movcfrom incrtia
to purposcfu| activity praxis) . juitcsimp|y, oncrcgainsonc` sautonomy, oncacts
uponthcconditionswhicharcactingupononc. ^ndthisautonomyprcc|udcsanx-
icty.
Myownconsu|tationswithKurankodivincrswcrcpromptcdbyanxicticsabout
my work, about troub|ing drcams, about my wifc`s hca|th during hcr prcgnancy.
Lncvcry occasion, dcspitc thc fact that I did notacccptintc||cctua||y thcassump-
tions undcr|ying Kuranko divination, thc consu|tations hc|pcd a||cviatc anxicty
and I di|igcnt|ymadcthcsacrihccs I was to|dwcrcncccssary. It is on thc strcngth
ofsuchhrsthandcxpcricnccsofKurankodivinationthatI argucthatthcpsycho|og-
ica| and cxistcntia| changcs chcctcd by consu|ting a divincr arc so immcdiatc and
positivcthatthe ultimate outcome of any prognostication or sacrifce does not necessarily
inspire retrspective interest in the truth o falsity of the diviner' s originl propositions.
Jhisimp|ics, ofcoursc, thatstudicsofdivinationwhicharcintc||cctua| |st|c|nthcir
biasandthusfocusonthcprob|cmofthccrcd|b||ityofthcsystcmrchcctanobj cc-
tivist mcthodo|ogywhichp|ays down subj cctivccxpcr|cncc. by rc|yingonpart|c| -
patory cxpcricnccs rathcr than disintcrcstcd obscrvations I hopc to havc shown
that onc's mcthodo|ogy consti tutcsboththcobj cctundcrstudyandonc' sintcrprc-
tation of it. Lxtrapo|ating hom my own cxpcricncc of Kuranko divination |cads
natura||y to an cmphasis on issucs ofunccrtainty and cr|sis. It |cads indccd to a
pragmatist vicwpoint, which docs not rcducc Kuranko div|nation to an objcct of
intc||cctJa|know|cdgcbutsccsitrathcrinawidcrframcofcxpcricnccasanobjcct
of usc. Ln| ikc thc intc||cctua|istic vicwpoint, thc pragmat|st vicwpoint has thc
mcrit ofbcing consistcnt with thc Kuranko cthos |tsc|f. Jhis point can bc brichy
c|aboratcd by comparingKuranko divinatory and storytc|| |ng arts.
^|though d|v|nation addrcsscs advcntitious unccrtaintics and storics actua||y
ceate unccrtaintics and d||cmmas, thc rcso|ution of ambiguity is crucia| in both
cascs.
randomness is maximized before it is shown to be a kind of disguised order. In both
the divinatory rite and the storytelling session people actively manipulate simulacra
of the real world in order to grasp it more clearly and transfor their experience of
it. The pebbles in the diviner's hands are like the fgures and images (gestlten) with
which the narrator creates new interpretations, and both the diviner and the narrator
make possible a transition fom confsion to clarity, and an adj ustment of individual
feedom to its limiting conditions. (Jackson 1 98:a: :Js)
I n thcsc transformations, thc "obj cct|vc" consistcncy or truth ofnarrativc
cvcntsanddivinatorytcchniqucsisnotan issuc. WhatisimportanttothcKuranko
is whcthcr thcstorytc|| ingscss|onsandd|vinatoryconsu|tations cnab|c worthwhi|c
things to happcnandhc|ppcop|cact dccis|vc|yandrcsponsib|y in thcircvcryday
socia| cxistcncc. In Wi||iam |amcs's tcrms, truth is what "hppens to an |dca. It
becomes truc, is m truc by cvcnts. Its vcrity i s in fact an cvcnt, a proccss"
i yU. y) .
^ 5 L LJ5 L b L L I L ^M O M L J HLO
It is now poss|b|c to considcr in grcatcr dcpth thc probab|c status of thc bc| icfs
associatcd with Kuranko divination.
Jhc most signihcant bc| icfs arc phrascd as unqucstioncd assumptions. thc art
ofdivining isacquircdfromcxtrasocia|sourccsthroughsomcccstaticcp|sodc, Cod
communicatcs mcssagcs to thc divincr via thc r|vcr pcbb|cs, anccstors inhucncc
thcdcstinicsandfortuncsofpcop|cbutpcop|ccaninhucnccthcanccstorsthrough
sacrihccs addrcsscd to thcm.
Lnc must rcmcmbcr, howcvcr, thatsuch doctrina|rc waysofphras|ngbc|icfs
arc usua||y an artifact of thc anthropo|ogica| interview; in thc contcxt ofpractical
activity a morc provisiona| and opportunist|c p|cturc cmcrgcs. art|y on thc basis
ofmyownparticipation in ritcs ofdivination andsacrihcc, part|y on thc basis of
How to Do Things wich Stones 65
discussions withdivincrs and othcr informants, I havc advanccd thc vicw that bc-
|icfsarcbcstrcgardcdastokcnswhicharcmanipu|atcdinvcntivc|yincritica|situa-
tions to achicvc pcrsona| and co||cctivc goa|s simu|tancous|y. Jhc asscrtion that
bc|icfs arcabso|utcandobj cctivc|ygivcn isrhctorica||ysignihcantrathcrthancm-
pirica||y rca|i:cd.
In support of this vicw thc fo||owing points can bc madc. irst, as wc havc
sccn, Kuranko divincrs admitthcrcis avarictyoftcchniqucsorsourccsofinspira-
tion, all of which may mcdiatc truc undcrstanding. Jhis is consistcnt with a morc
gcncra| anthropo|ogica| obscrvation. thcrc is a|ways a grcat varicty of rcasons or
motivcs conscious and unconscious) forcspousing a particu|arbc|icf, and no two
individua|s-whcthcrfrom thc samc cu|turc or hom dihcrcnt cu|turcs-wi|| sub-
scribc to thc samc bc|icffor idcntica| rcasons. Si bis faiunt im, non est im scc
Ocvcrcux i t a. z ) . Jhatiswhy I cou|duscKurankodivinationa if it were tu,
ca|| ing upon it as an "cxtra truth" |amcs i yU. U) , an idca which onc storcs |n
onc's mind unti|suchtimc as oncsccs a usc for itandrca|i:csitstruth. but oncc
ithasscrvcditspurposc, thc idcaissctasidc, itstruthagainquicsccnt.12 I maintain
that Kuranko bc|icfs in divination arc of thc samc ordcr. quicsccnt most of thc
timc, activatcd in crisis, but having no stab|c or intrinsic truth va|ucs that can
bc dchncd outsidc ofcontcxts of usc. 5ccond, bc|icfs arc in most cu|turcs oftcn
simu|atcdorfcigncd, and thc strcngthofcommitmcnt ishigh|yvariab|c,13 yct this
docs not ncccssari|y undcrminc thc uti|ity and cfhcacy ofthc bc|icfs in practicc.
In othcrwords, thc rc|ationship bctwccn thc cspouscd or manifcst bc|icf dogma)
and individua| cxpcricncc is indctcrminatc. Wc cannot infcr thc cxpcricncc hom
thc bc| icf or vicc vcrsa with comp|ctc ccrtainty. Jhird, to invcstigatc bc||cfs or
"bc|icfsystcms" apartfrom actua| human activity is absurd.
Whcnanthropo|ogistswritcas ifbc|icfs wcrchxcd, cxtcma|factswhichdctcr-
minc cxpcricncc and activity, this istantamountto sayingthat thc "bc|icvcrs"arc
mad. Lct us considcr thc fo||owing rcmarks of 5y|vano ^ricti on thc cxpcricncc
ofthc schi:ophrcnic.
If we ask severely ill schizophrenics to explain why they believe their strange ideas
in spite of all the evidence, they do not attempt to demonstrate the validity of the
ideas . . . . Almost invariably they give this answer: "I know, " meaning, "[ know that
it is so. " The patient's belief is more than a strong conviction; it is a cetti tude . . .
the patient is unable to lie about his delusions. . . . The delusions are absolute reality
for him, and he cannot deny them. ( 1 974: 2 78)
Itisnotuncommonfor anthropo|ogiststowritcaboutpcop|c inothcrcu|turcs
in j ust this way. as ifthcy wcrc unab|c to distinguish words and things, as if thc
bc| icfs mastcrcdand manipu|atcdthcm |ikcproj cctivcdc|usions) , asif, inaword,
thcy wcrc autistic. It is of coursc quitc truc that Kuranko divincrs ncvcr opcn|y
qucstion thc u|timatc authority of Cod. Mor do thcy conscious|y |ic or chcat.
^mongordinary pcop|c, thc authorityofthc"wordsofthc anccstors" ncvcrsccms
to bc cha||cngcd, and thc "way thcanccstorsdid things" sanctihcs and j ustihcs a||
of thc customs inhcritcd from thcm |ackson i yyb. -i U) . but thc lack ofcvi-
dcncc on the rhetorical plane ofa skcptica| attitudc docs notj usti a priori assump-
tions that thc Kuranko arc incapab|cofsuspcndingdisbc|icfor cxpcricncing what
Ccorgc 5tcincr ca||s "a|tcmity" i y. zzq-zy) . Vcrba| rcsponscs arc poor indiccs
of inncr statcs, and bc|icfs arc morc | ikc mctaphors than many darc imaginc.
JhcKuranko vcrb for "to know" i sa !on thcncc know|cdgc, !onei ) . "Known"
thingsarcsaidtobcthings|camcd. Jhcnounlniye maybctrans|atcdas"bc| icf, "
its connotations bcing "conhdcncc" or "trust" in anothcr pcrson or "conviction"
about somc idca. Jhus thc phrascs i U ra U' do you bc|icvc ' ) and i U r wo U'
do you bc|icvc that ' ) carry thc connotation "do you havc a hrm conviction that
such and such is truc' "I havc ncvcrknowna Kuranko to cxprcss doubt or unccr-
taintyaboutdivinatorymcthodsbut, aswchavcsccn, individua|swi||havcgrcatcr
conhdcncc or "bc| icf" in onc divincr than in othcrs.
Jhat thc Kuranko rcgard thc bc|icfs which sustain thc divinatory proccss as
cxtcma||y factitious, indcpcndcnt of human subj cctivity, and immunc to human
intcrfcrcncc or govcmancc shou|d not |cad us to conc|udc cithcr that thc bc|icfs
havc onto|ogica| coro||arics or that thcy arc ncvcr subj cct to manipu|ation, opcn
to changc, orhc|d with variab|c conviction and for a varicty ofrcasons. Working
to grasp thc nativc's point ofvicw docs not cntai| sharing hisfa|sc consciousncss.
lcvcrthc|css , trying to undcrstand cmpathica||y thc nativc's vicw ofthc wor|d by
usingaparticipatorymcthodo|ogy, as havc donc, imp|icsan intcrcstindisso|ving
thc boundary which in anthropo|ogica| discoursc contrasts thcm and us in tcrms
ofa distinctionbctwccnmagic andscicncc. l ta|so imp|ics an cagcmcss to putour
anthropo|ogica| tcxts on a par with thc "tcxts" wc co||cct in thc hc|d, critica||y
cxaminingin both cases thcprctcnsionsofthoscwhoauthorthc"tcxts"to an intc|-
|cctua||y or mora||y privi |cgcd position from which thc othcr can bc j udgcd or a
"truc" undcrstanding of him prcsumcd.
nthischaptcrI havc tricdto work in tcrms ofan cxistcntia|issuc-thcprob-
|cm of thc a|catory-that is ofconccm to a|| human bcings. Whcn wc cxaminc
thc grcat varicty ofways in which scicncc and divination a|ikc introducc a scm-
b|ancc ofordcrandsystcm into an unccrtainunivcrsc, itbcginsto |ookas ifcstab-
| ishing thc "truth" of scicncc or of divination in tcrms of somc notion that thc
systcms corespond to cxtcma| rca|ity is not ncccssary in ordcrforthcsc systcms to
hc|p us copc with |ifc and makc it mcaningfu| cf. Korty i Uz. xvi i ) . Jhc |csson
I takcfrommycxpcricncc ofconsu|tingKurankodivincrs isthatoncdocsnothavc
to bc|icvc inthc truthc|aimsofthcsystcmfor ittoworkinapractica|andpsycho-
|ogica| scnsc.
Why thcn, in scicncc and divination a| ikc, do practitioncrs conccm thcm-
sc|vcs so muchwith thc cpistcmo|ogica| |cgitimacy of thcir systcms ' Jhc answcr
is surc|y to bc found in thc common humannccd for subj cctivity to distancc itsc|f
from itsc|f, to obj cctiitsc|finordcrto bc managcab|candmcaningm|-aproccss
wc scc bchind thc usc ofstoncs and othcr obj ccts in divination and in thc dispas-
sionatc impcrsona| |anguagc of scicncc. Yct, in ncithcr casc docs thc obj cctivist
modcofdiscoursc mirror or cvcn dctcrminc thc rca|itics ofpractica| cxistcncc.
F IVE
The Identity of the Dead
Jhc pcrson who suhcrs bcrcavcmcnt and |oss is oftcn p|ungcd into an intcnsc and
opprcssivcso| itudc, pcrvadcdbyascnscofangcrandvictimagc andbyascnsc that
thc tragcdy is uniquc to oncsc|f and cannot bc sharcd or undcrstood by othcrs.
Kccovcry isamattcrofrcforgingticswithothcrs , ofrca|i:ingthat onc isnot a|onc,
that onc' scxpcricncc isnot uniquc, that onc isnot doomcd to moum forcvcr. Jhis
rccovcryofonc'ssocial cxistcncccntai|semotional dctachmcnt. butmyowncxpcri-
cncc of this proccss has taught mc thc importancc of two obscrvations Ocvcrcux
makcs. irst, pattcms ofbchaviorand cxpcricncc arc not inhnitc in thcirvaricty,
and thosc which arc acknow|cdgcd and imp|cmcntcd as "norma|" in onc socicty
wi|| bc found, a|bcit rcprcsscd, in othcrs Ocvcrcux i yUa. y-yy) . 5ccond, it is
in situations of crisis that this psychic unity of humankind is most dramatica||y
rcvca|cd y ) .
I nthc wccks aftcr my wifc' s dcath, so strong|y did I fcc| hcr prcscncc that I
|ivcd my |ifc among phantoms and fcarcd for my sanity. Cradua||y I |camcd that
this rcaction to |oss was not unusua| . I a|so bcgan to scc how myown cxpcricncc
might bc comparcd to thc cxpcricncc ofKuranko pcop|c, who spcak ofthc dcad
not as rcmotc abstractions but as |iving prcscnccs. Jhciraddrcsscsand food ohcr-
ings to anccstors suddcn|y madc scnsc to mc, and thcir conccm for thc idcntity
ofthcdcadwas , I rca|i:cd, inscparab|cfrom aconccmfor thcwc|farcofthc|iving.
Jhis cthnographic obj cctihcation ofmyfcc| ingsa|sobroughthomcto mc thc
cxtcnt to which Kuranko ritua|s ofdcathandburia| p|ay down thc cmotions of
thc bcrcavcd. Indccd, for thc Kuranko, uncontro||cd cmotiona|ity is inimica| to
thcsocial transformationsfuncra|sarcmcanttochcct. Jhcrcasoninghcrcissimi|ar
to that uscd to cxp|ain why Kuranko narrativcs supprcss idiosyncratic dctai| and
individua| idcntity. a ncutra|sccnariocnab|cscachpcrson to hndhisorhcrmcan-
inginitwithoutdcstroyingthcfacadcofconvcntiona|ityandconscnsus. Itissomc-
what|ikcthcargumcntofthoscanthropo|ogistswhoho|dthatsubj cctivismrcduccs
discoursc to so|ipsism and rc|ativism, so prcc|uding thc possibi|ity ofgcncra|socia|
ana|ysis. Incachcasc-mncra|s , narrativcs, discoursc-socia|itydcmandsthcsup-
prcssionofthatwhichmostdramatica||ysctsthc individua|subj cctapartfromoth-
crs. cxtraordinari|y intcnscorprivatcfcc|ings.
Jo somc cxtcnt my way ofwriting this chaptcr cchocs this vicw. Kathcr than
focusonthcpcrsona|cxpcricnccsofthcbcrcavcd, Iwanttocmphasi:cthcdia|cctic
that cxists in Kuranko mncra|sbctwccncmotiona| and ritua| proccsscs, bctwccn
thcfcc| ings ofthcbcrcavcdandconvcntiona| idcasconccmingthcidcntityofthc
dcad.
5incc Larin i Uyz) and rcud i o) hrst drcw attcntion to thc adaptivc
va|ucofmouming, thccvo|vcdbchaviora|pattcmsofmoumingandgricvinghavc
bccn studicd in dctai| among both human and infrahumangroups o||ock i yq) .
5omcofthc mostcompc|| ingaccountsofthcbcrcavcmcntrcaction bow|by i i ,
i y i , i y, Krupp i z, arkcs i y) suggcstthat itisaspccia|formofscparat|on
anxicty and that thc univcrsa| pattcms ofgricf, dcfcnsc, mouming, and rcaction
to obj cct |oss arc mndamcnta||y phy|ogcnctic adaptations. but ncithcr individua|
cxpcricnccs ofbcrcavcmcntnor socia| practiccs and bc|icfs associatcd with dcath
can bc simply rcduccd to thcsc biogcnctic givcns.
Jwo ofthc most striking charactcristics offuncra|s in a|| human socictics arc
thc manncr in which thc ubiquitous and probab|y innatc pattcmings of thc bc-
rcavcmcnt rcactionarcasumed o simulated1 by pcrsonsothcrthanthc immcdiatc
bcrcavcd i . c. , bypcrsonswhocxpcricnccno dircct pcrsona| |oss) , ' and thc man-
ncr in whichthc cxprcssionofgricfisdlayed an socially managed. 3 Jhcscpsycho-
|ogica| mcchanisms ofsimu|ation and dcfcrra|' cnab|c us to undcrstand thc socia|
phcnomcnon of thc doub|c or sccond funcra| Hcrt: i o) and thc dist|nction
which is common|ymadcbctwccnphysica| and socia| dcath, it is rarc that thcsc
arcconccivcdtotakcp|accsimu|tancous|y arkcs i y . i U ) . Jhcconsciousman-
agcmcnt ofgricfand thc socia| contro| of ahcct makc it possib|c to coa|cscc and
rcso|vctogcthcrbothpcrsona| prob|cms ofbcrcavcmcntand communi ty orfami |y
prob|cms ofsocia| rcintcgration. rom a socio|ogica| point ofvicw, a mncra| cn-
ab|csagrcatvarictyofindividua| cmotions tohndcathar:is inthcsamc co||cctivc
activity Lcvcrcux i i a. z, Co|dschmidt i y. U) . roma psycho|ogica|point
ofvicw, amncra|cnab|csthcbcrcavcdtoworkthroughthcthrccphascsofscpara-
tion trauma-protcst, dcspair, dctachmcnt'-and, aftcr a pcriod of socia| cxc|u-
sion, torctumto thc community. rom an cxistcntia|pointofvicw, a funcra| cn-
ab|cs pcop|c to transmutc a situation in whichdcath is visitcd upon thcm as an
opprcssivc givcn into onc in which thcydchnc thc charactcr ofdying and dccidc
thc momcnt ofdcath.
Inthcfo||owingcthnographicaccountofdcathandburia|amongthcKuranko
I am intcrcstcd primari|y in thc socia| managcmcnt or manipu|ation ofahcct and
inthc ways bcrcavcmcnt pattcms coa|cscc with ritua| forms, thc purposcofwhich
is to rcso|vc prob|cms ofconccm to cvcryonc in thc community, not simp|y thc
bcrcavcd. Jhcsc prob|cms, which constitutc a kind ofsct, arc. thc contrad|ction
bctwccnthccontinuityofsocictyandthcdiscontinuityofhuman|ifc, thcprob|cm
ofscparatingonc'sfcc| ings toward thccorpscfromonc'smcmoricsofthcdcccascd,
andthcprob|cm ofscparating physica| , idiosyncratic aspccts ofthcdcadpcrson's
idcntity from spiritua| , cu|tura| aspccts.
LL ^J H
Jhc Kuranko makc a c|car distinction bctwccn thc dcaths of anima|s and thc
dcathsofpcop|c, inthc hrstcascdcath isa tcrminationofcxistcncc, inthc sccond
Th Idntity of t Dea 69
casc dcath is a transformation ofcxistcncc. O anima|s onc uscs thc vcrbara faga,
"to dic, " and thc samc vcrb is uscd to dcscribc homicidc (fagale; a murdcrcr is
knownas mago fagale, "pcrsonki||cr") .6 Jhus, ifJamba ki||s Yira onc saysTamba
ar Yir faga, but whcn rcfcrring rctrospcctivc|y to Yira onc wou|d say Yir ar sa.
Jhc vcrb ara sa, "to dic, " is uscd in human cascs. Most signihcant|y it connotcs
thc continuing inucncc ofthc spirit (nie) of thc dcad pcrson in thc |ivcs ofthc
|iving. ^partfrom thcsc tcrms wc shou|d a|so notc thc vcrb ara ban, uscd to rcfcr
toccssationofactivity, aswhcn apicccofwork ishnishcd, awomancan no |ongcr
bcarchi|drcn, ora | incagc "dics out. " urthcr, thcrc arc numcrous circum|ocutory
waysofspcaking aboutdcath, c. g. , a nie ara t, "his |ifc hasgonc, " orar t lakiria
r, "hc has gonc to lakir to thc rca|m of thc anccstors) . "
5omc Kuranko bc|icvc in ccrtain portcnts of dcath. or cxamp|c, thcrc arc
said to bc as many stars as thcrc arc pcop|c in thc wor|d. Whcn a pcrson dics his
star fa||s from thc sky. Lpon obscrving a fa||ing star onc shou|d say n' kel ' miye,
"Minc arcnot thc on|y cycswhichhavc sccnyou, " scvcra|timcs. Inbarawathcrc
isan immcnscgranitc insc|bcrgknown asSinikonke. Itisassociatcd with thc ru|ing
Mara|incagcofbarawaandsomcsaythatthcanccstra|ru|crsdwc||thcrc. ^ttimcs
onc wi|| hcar xy|ophonists p|aying and singing praisc-songs on thc mountain and
pcrhaps too thc crcakingofa grcatstoncdooras it swings opcn, thcscarcomcns
that a man ofthc ru|ing |incagc wi|| soon dic.
Whcn a man is scrious|y i|| or at thcpointofdcath hiswivcsanddaughtcrs
must |cavc him. 5omctimcs a dying man is rcmovcd hom thc housc to a |can-to
in thc backyard. Hc is attcndcd by a ma|c fricnd, his c|dcst son, and by a scnior
wifc if shc is past mcnopausc) or an uninitiatcd daughtcr or sorora| niccc who
arc considcrcdtobcscxua||y innoccnt) . ^s insickncss , a manwi|| avoid mcnwho
may havc bccn scxua||y intimatc with his wivcs, and hc wi|| avoid his wivcs |cst
onc of thcm happcn to bc invo|vcd in an adu|tcrous ahair, such |iaisons arc rc-
gardcd aspo||uting (k tinye , "todcspoi| , " "toruin, " "topo||utc")andwou|dcxaccr-
batc thc inva|id's condition. ^woman isnurscdby hcr c|dcstdaughtcrfor simi|ar
rcasons.
Jhc dcath is announccd by thc |oud and high-pitchcd wai|ing, crying, and
|amcnting of thc wivcs, daughtcrs, sistcrs, nicccs, and othcr c|osc fcma|c kin. ^s
thc kccning is takcn up by othcr vi ||agc womcn, mcn of thc dcad man's fami|y
go to noti thc vi ||agc chicfand c|dcrs. ^ gun is hrcd to a|crt othcr vi ||agcrs,
somc ofwhom may bc atworkon thcirfarms somc distanccfrom thc vi||agc. 5pc-
cia|drummcssagcsarca|so uscd. ina||y, mcsscngcrsarcdispatchcd toothcrham-
|cts and vi||agcs inthcchicfdom to notikinsmcnandfricnds ofthcdcath. Ko|a
is ticdwith thc sta|ksofthc wrapping-|cavcsupwardto signia dcath. Inthc vi |-
|agc, subc|an ( kebile) c|dcrs makc prcparations toscnd rcprcscntativcs and sympa-
thy gifts (sakonole; | itcra||y, "dcath gifts") to thc mncra|.
Within two hours ofthc dcath, most ofthcmcn ofthc vi ||agc, |cd by thc
vi ||agc chicfandhis counci|ofc|dcrs, wi||havcasscmb|cdinthc compound ( luiye)
outsidc thc housc whcrc thc man hasdicd. ricnds ofthc dcccascd, assistcd by
granddaughtcrs of thc dcccascd (mmninenu) , wash thc corpsc in frcsh watcr,
anoint it with pa|m oi|, thcnp|acc it on a ncw matwrappcd in a shroud ofwhitc
satin orcountry-c|oth. Whi|c thc corpsc isbcingprcparcdfor buria| inthc housc,
vi||agc c|dcrs or thc keminetig "mastcr of thc young mcn") send young mcn to
cut gravc |ogs from thc ture trcc, and dig thc gravc. Latccomcrs continuc to arrivc
as thc forma| prcscntation ofsympathygifts bcgins. Womcn wi|| oftcnfa|| to thc
ground, wai|ingand |amcnting, thcir cricstakcn upbythc bcrcavcd womcn insidc
thc housc. Mcn prcscnt thcir gifts moncy, kola) to thc dcad man's sistcr's son,
who passcs thc gifts on to thc c|dcst son and brothcrs ofthc dcccascd. Ifthc dcad
man was a mcmbcrofa ru|ing |incagc, thcn thc gifts wi|| bcconvcycdby a scnior
jeliba xy|ophonist and praisc-singcr) to thc dcad man's brothcrs. 7 ^t thc funcra|
ofamanofrank,jelibas a|sop|aythcirxy|ophoncsandsingthcfavoritcsongsofthc
dcccascd as wc|| as standard |amcnts.
This year oh, a gold cotton-tree has fallen, oh sorrow, a great cotton- tree has fallen
this year oh (Nyin oh, seni banda buir, oh yala, band be buir nyin oh) .
A great cotton tree-that reached to heaven-has fallen. Where shall we fnd support
and shade again?
Lie down, lie down Mara [name of a rling clan] , the war chief has gone. ( Sayers
! 925: 22)
Lpt othistimcthcsoundofwomcnwai| inghasnotccascd. butnowthc |am-
cntation and kccningstopsuddcn|y as, from thchouscofthc dcad man, cmcrgcs
a group ofwomcn. thc mamanianenu. 5|ow|y and do|cfu||y thcy movc around in
a tightcirc|c, singingdirgcs. ^ftcrawhi|cafcw ofthcwomcnapproachthcporch
whcrc thc chicfand c|dcrs arc sitting. Jhcy maintain thcirmorosc pcrformancc,
thcqui ctdirgc, thcshuff| ing, thcdcadpan faccs, whi|c thcmcnthrow moncy or
ko|aon thc ground at thcirfcct. Without anychangc ofcxprcssion, onc mamne
ormmaniane, singu|arofmmanianenu; |i tcra||y, "|itt|cgrandmothcr") stoopsand
picks up thc gifts. Jhc group thcn disbands.
In thc contcxt ofmortuary ritua| thc mamnianenu inc|udc a|| thosc who ca||
thcdcccascdm' bimba "mygrandfathcr , "i . c. , sons' daughtcrs , youngcrsons' wivcs,
grandsons`wivcs. Inordinary |ifc aj okingrc|ationshipcxistsbctwccngrandparcnts
and grandchi|drcn, this is known as thc mamania talon. Oiscussion of thc ro|c
p|aycd by thc mmanianenu at thcir grandfathcr's funcra| wi|| bc postponcd unti|
I havcgivcnfurthcrdctai|sofburia|, sacrihccs, widowquarantinc, succcssion, and
inhcritancc.
b L K I ^ L
Whcn thc gravc is dug, thc topsoi| ishcapcdon onc sidc, scparatcdhom thc bot-
tom c|ay. Jhc |owcr sccrion of thc gravc is a six-foot trcnch, j ust |argc cnough
to accommodatcthcbody. Lxactmcasurcmcnts, usingamcasuringstick, arc madc
by thc gravcdiggcrs. Jhc uppcrscction ofthc gravc is |ongcr and widcrandforms
a kind ofstcp which cnab|cs thc buria| party to p|acc thc body morc casi|y and,
subscqucnt|y, to "sca| oh" thc |owcr scction with mats, |cavcs, and |ogs. Cravcs
Th Idntity of t Dea 7 1
arc dug on thc pcrimctcr of thc vi||agc among thc trccs, scrub, and rubbish. Mo
forma| marking of thc gravc sitc occurs and a|| that indicatcs thcp|acc ofburia|
aftcr a fcw monthshavc passcd is thc carthmoundovcrgrown with grass.
^s soon as a|| sympathy gifts havc bccn convcycd, thc cortcgc movcs toward
thc buria| arca. Jhc corpsc isshroudcdandwrappcd ina mat. L|dcrs, rcprcscnting
a|| thc subc|ans in thc community, carry thc body to thc gravcsidc, whcrc it is
immcdiatc|y |owcrcd into thc bottom trcnch. Kamara i z. q) rccords that thc
dcccascd's wivcs arc a||owcd onc hna| opportunity to ga:c upon him, "but thcy
must quit thc spot bcforc thc body is actua||y |owcrcd into thc gravc. " Hc a|so
notcs ) that thc dcad man's dcbtors and crcditors shou|d dcc|arc thcir c|aims
or dischargc thcir dcbts at this timc, it is thought impcrativc that thc dcad man's
c|dcst son c|car hisfathcr's dcbts bcforc thc inhumation.
Jhcmatcnc|osingthcbodyishxcdtothcsidcsofthcgravcwithsma||woodcn
pcgs. Jhcn thc hcavy |ogs of ture wood arc p|accd athwart thc |owcr trcnch. Jwo
morc mats arc p|accd ovcr thc |ogs and thc mats covcrcd with |cavcs which mcn
ofthc buria| party pick from trccs in thc vicinity. It is said that thcrc may bc onc
spccia| |caf "for lkir" which wi|| takc thc dcad man's spirit to thc rca|m of thc
anccstors. Jhc carthisnowrctumcdtothcgravc, hrst thctopsoi | , thcn thcbottom
c|ay. In somc instanccs, hcavy stoncs arc p|accd around thc cdgcs of thc carth
mound. Jhcsc intcrmcntproccdurcsarcrcgardcdas mcansofprcvcntingthcbody
from bcing cxhumcd by anima|s) or thc spirit hom rccntcring it. Jhc Kuranko
quotc anadagc tocmphasi:cthcgravityandhna| ityofdcath in this cascthcscpa-
ration ofbody and spirit) . ture tu tintu, "thc ture is vcry hcavy, " i . c. , dcath is a||-
powcrfu| , thc ture |ogs arc an impcnctrab|c barricr.
Whcn thc buria| is donc, thc mcn squat around thc carth mound and thcn,
tamping thc c|ay with thcir hands, |can forard and murmur oncc in unison,
"Lomc . " Jhis summoning of thc spirit from thc gravc sitc is ncccssitatcd by thc
spirit' sunwi||ingncsstodcpart. cc|ingabandoncdanddcso|atc, itwi||rcmainncar
thc gravc pining and ca||ing, "You havc |cft mc a|onc, you havc |cft mc a|onc. "
It is tcmptingto scc thisbc|icfasaproj cctionofthc pining, scarching, andca||ing
rcactions ofthc bcrcavcd arkcs i y) , at |cast thc bc|icf"simu|atcs" thc fcc|ing
of |oss cxpcricnccd by thc moumcrs.
Jhc mcn whohavc attcndcdthcburia|nowwash thcirhands inwatcrbrought
for thc purposc. Jhosc who cntcrcd thc gravc wash thcir fcct shocs arc ncvcr
wom) , and too|s uscd in digging thc gravc arc a|so washcd thorough|y. Jhis
c|canscspcop|cofthc gravc"dirt , " whichispo||uting. Jhcwashingdonc, thcmcn
quick|yquitthcgravcsitc. Kamara i z. ) dcscribcswhat isprobab|ya Mus|im
custom, thc cating ofthc "|ast ricc" whcn fricnds and kin ofthc dcccascd sharc
ricc cakcs known as keme-d "gravc-brcad") or d-kun "bittcr brcad") , prcparcd
by virgin gir|s.
5^L K I I LL 5
^s soon as thc mcn rctum from thc gravc sitc, thc sacrihccs arc ohcrcd. Jhc hrst
and major sacrihcc ( ninki sarke, "cow sacrihcc") is of a cow or cows providcd by
sons or brothcrs of thc dcccascd. It is ohcrcd to Cod (Al or Altl) . Jhc cow
is tcthcrcdto a sacrihcia|post in thc midd|cofthc luiye. Mcnofthcvi||agc, rcprc-
scnting cvcry subc|an ( kebile) , fami|y (dembaiye) , andcatcgoryofpcrsons, surround
thc bcast in a circ|c, strctching thcirright arms and hands out toward it. juranic
vcrscs (haye) arc rccitcd as thc cow is consccratcd to ^||ah. Jhc anima| is thcn
forccd to thc ground by young mcn and oricntcd with its hcad toward thc cast.
^ Mus|imomciant (karmorgo) quick|ycutsits throat. Withanothcrknifc orma-
chctc thc karmorgo supcrviscs thc butchcring of thc carcass. Mcat is distributcd
in thc customary way. a portionfor rcprcscntativc c|dcrs from a|| thc vi||agc sub-
c|ans , andportionsfor othcrpcop|crcprcscntingothcrcatcgorics, thc anthropo|o-
gistasarcprcscntativcofthctubabunu "Luropcans") , avisitorhomanothcrvi ||agc
as a rcprcscntativc ofhis vi||agc, and so on.8
Lthcrsacrihccs maybc madc by thcbcrcavcdkin. Jhcsc sacrihccsarc sc|dom
of catt|c, but of shccp, goats, chickcns, and hcns and, most usua||y, ricc f|our
(dege ) . Jhc sacrihccs arc this timc consccratcd to thc |incagc anccstors, thc ritua|
congrcgationcomprisingon|y|incagcmcmbcrsandafcwmatrikin. lumcroussym-
pathygiftssuchasko|a, moncy, ricc, andoi| arcbroughtbyvisitorsandmoumcrs,
who continuc to arrivc in thc vi||agc hom far ahc|d during thc days fo||owing thc
inhumation. but for cvcryonc cxccpt thc immcdiatc fami|y ofthc dcad man, thc
mortuary ritcs arc chcctivc|y ovcr oncc thc main sacrihcc has bccn ohcrcd.
jL^K^l J I l L
Lbinne from U, "|ying down, " and binane, "forty") is thc Kuranko tcrm for thc
forty-dayquarantinc pcriod whichfo||ows thc buria|, during this timc, thc widows
arc iso|atcd from thc ordinary |ifc of thc community. ' Whi|c othcr bcrcavcd kin
obscrvc mouming by binding thrcads oframa around thcir nccks for a scvcn-day
pcriod, thcwivcsmustrcmaininsidcthcir|atchusband' shouscforfortydays. Jhcy
|ct thcir hair hang |oosc it is usua||y p|aitcd) , a convcntiona| cxprcssion of thc
apathy or |oss ofintcrcst inpcrsona| appcarancc whichoftcn charactcritcs moum-
ing arkcs i y. ) . Jhrough an association which thc Kuranko makc bcnccn
cxprcssion of gricfand scntimcnta| attachmcnt to thc dcccascd, it is argucd that
thc widows participatc in thc dcath. Jhcy arc in a statc of ritua| impurity, and
thciriso|ationmayrcf|cctacommontcndcncyofpcop|ctostigmatitcthcbcrcavcd
zz-z) . Luring thcir scc|usion thcy arc ministcrcd to and protcctcd by onc of
thcdcadman' ssistcr'ssons ( berinne) , andit isthcsistcr'ssonwho, drummingdo|c-
m||y, |cads thc widows who arc drcsscd in whitc country-c|oth gowns, thc scnior
wifc wa|king bcforc) to thc strcamsidc for ccrcmonia| purihcation whcn lbinane
is ovcr. ^nyonc who has ncvcr |ost a rc|ativc must not scc this proccssion but rc-
main indoors unti| it has passcd. or such pcrsons, cvcn visua| contact with thc
widows is po||uting.
^t thc strcamsidc, confcssions arc madc. Jhc purposc ofthc confcssion is to
asccrtain whcthcrornot anyofthc widowsnursc somc gricvancc against thc dcad
man, whosc spirit attcndsthcccrcmony,
1 0
andwhcthcrornotthcdcadman'sspirit
Th Idntity of th Dea 73
has forgivcnthcwivcsfor anymisdcmcanors , particu|ar|yscxua| inhdc|itics, which
may havc hurt his rcputation during his |ifc. Jhc usua| tcchniquc for dcciding if
aconfcssion isrcquircdconsists insp|ittinga two-coty|cdonko|anutandthrowing
thc coty|cdonson thc ground, ifthcyfa||facingcach othcr ( "cvcn") thcn no con-
fcssion is rcquircd, but ifthcy fa|| in any othcr combination "odd") thcn confcs-
sion and abso|ution must fo||ow or c|sc thc woman wi h fa|| i|| and dic, accurscd
bythc vcngcm|ghostofhcr|atc husband. Whcnthcconfcssionsarcovcrthcwid-
owsarcbathcdinthcstrcam, cithcrbyasistcrofthcdcccascdorbyc|dcr|yvi||agc
womcn past chi |d-bcaring agc) . Jhc sistcr's son rcmains in attcndancc, p|aying
his drum to wam pcop|c away hom thc arca.
Jhcwidows nowrctum tothcvi ||agc toa |argc mca|prcparcd byc|osc ki n.
Jhi ssignihcs thccndofquarantinc and thcwidows' forthcoming rcincorporation
into thc ordinap |ifc ofthc community.
CHEFARE
Within a fcw days of thc cnding of thc pcrio of scc|usion for thc widows,
thc distributionofthc hcritab|cpropcrty (ch) takcs p|acc undcr thcsupcrvisionof
thc c|dcst surviving brothcr ofthc dcccascd. Jhc occasion is known as chefare.
5ucccssion isby primogcniturc, and thc c|dcst son's assumptionofhisfathcr's
ro|c as fami|y hcad (dembaiyetig) is signihcd by thc inhcritancc ofhis |atc fathcr's
cap and gown. ^ man's propcrty inc|udcs his wivcs ( inhcritcd widows arc known
as che musu) , his chi|drcn inhcritcd chi|drcn arc known as che dan) , |i vcstock,
c|othcs, pcrsona| posscssions, gardcns and othcr |and in cu|tivation, and food in
storc. Jhc housc is "j oint owncd" (serefan) and usufructory rights to |and cannot
bc inhcritcd. ^ccording to thc |cviratc, thc o|dcst surviving brothcr of thc dc-
ccascd inhcrits thc widows , thcir chi|drcn, and thc bu|kofthc matcria| propcrp.
If a widow chooscs, shc may marry anothcr "brothcr" of hcr |atc husband. is
isoftcnthccascwhcnthcrc|ationsbctwccnthcinhcritingbrothcrandthcwidow's
|atc husband wcrc straincd or hosti|c. ^ woman may fcar thc vcngcancc ofhcr
|atc husband' s spirit ifshc marrics a man hc dis|ikcd, and shc wi|| a|so bc mindfu|
ofthc disadvantagcs hcr chi|drcn maysuhcr in thchouscho|dofan indihcrcnt"fa-
thcr. "Jhc cursc ofthc dcad isknownasfurekoe, anditmaybcrcgardcdassanction
against a widow's bctraying hcr |atc husband' s trust or ignoring his cxpcctations.
5ma|| itcms of hcritab|c propcrty such as artic|cs of c|othing arc distributcd
amongsubc|an "brothcrs" to signi thc so| idarityofthc subc|an and amipamong
its mcmbcrs. ^ccording to Kuranko fo|k ctymo|ogy, kebile subc|an) mcans
"inhcritancc-sharcrs", thcorctica||y, a manhas c|aims uponand rights in thc prop-
crty ofhis subc|an "brothcrs. "
Withthcdistributionofthchcritab|cpropcrtydoncandthcwidowsrcmarricd,
thc scqucncc ofmortuary ritcs comcs to a c|osc. dca||y thc communip has madc
thc various adj ustmcntsncccssary to accommodatc thc |ossofa kinsmanorncigh-
bor, and thc bcrcavcd havc rcconci|cd thcmsc|vcs to a ncw |ifc in which thc dc-
ccascd, now transformcd into an anccstor, wi|| p|ay a vcry dihcrcnt ro|c.
74 PATHS TOWARD A CLEARI NG
5 LL I ^ L 5 J^J L5 ^M O MLKJL^KY
LL5JLM5
Hcrt: hascontrastcd thcpanic and conccm at thcdcath ofan important pcrson
with thc dcath of a strangcr, a s|avc, or a chi|d. 5uch a dcath, hc writcs, "wi||
go a|most unnoticcd, it wi|| arousc no cmotion, occasion no ritua|. It is thusnot
as thc cxtinction of an anima| |ifc thatdcath occasions socia|bc|icfs, scntimcnts
and ritcs" i o. y) . Jhis gcncra| tcndcncy is truc of Kuranko mncra|s, and an
invcstigationofthc way inwhichdihcrcnccsin thcsca|candcharactcrofthc ritcs
arc corrc|atcd with dihcrcnccs in thc socia| status ofthc dcad pcrson is ofcrucia|
importancc in our cndcavor to undcrstand thc rc|ation bctwccn individua| afect
and customary pattcms of socia| behvio. Jhc rc|ationships bctwccnsocia| status
and p|acc of buria|, composition of ritua| congrcgation, and fatc of thc sou| arc
shown in tab|c i , pagc yU.
TABLE 1 .
Kuranko Social States and Mortuary Customs
Social Status Place of Burial Ritual Congregation Fate of the Soul
Paramount chief Chiefs luiye Representatives of all Becomes ancestor,
vil lages in the chiefdom infuencing the
and from other "allied" well-being of the
or "related" chiefdoms inhabitants of the
chiefdom
Funder of a Luiye As for any other male Becomes ancestor,
luiye elder infuencing the
well-being of those
living in the
luiye
Adult man Vi llage perimeter Immediate family Becomes ancestor,
( agnates) , affnes influencing the
matrikin, sororal lives of agnatic
nephew, representatives descendants and, to
of all other a lesser degree,
subclans in the the lives of
village sister's chi ldren
Married woman Vi llage perimeter Husband's family Becomes "nominal"
ancestress; no real
influence
Infant Sundu kunye r Immediate family Possible
reincaration
Accursed person "Bush" beyond Immediate family Spiritual
or witch village perimeter extinction
Th Identity of the Dea
75
WLML M
bccausc womcn havc no po|iticoj ura| status in thc community, a woman`s buria|
is si mp|y a "fami|y ahair. " ^nd it is a|ways thc husband` s fami|y which organi:cs
thc buria|. Jhc Kuranko oftcn point out and it forms part of thc forma| spccch
whcnabridc is"givcnaway")that"awomanbc|ongstohcrhusband`sgroup[kebile]
whi|c shc is a|ivc and cvcn aftcrshc is dcad. " Marriagc invo|vcs a transfcrto thc
hJsband of a|| rights. in personm, in uxorem, in genetricem. Kamara writcs. "^
woman, not a virgin, but dying husband|css , may not bc buricd unti| somc man
isfoundwho wi|| standin loco mriti. Ifshc had a |ovcrthat |ovcr wi|| hnd himsc|f
ob|igcd to pay 'dowry` for hcr-a cow or two-in ordcr that shc may bc buricd,
du|ya marricdwoman" i z. ) . Inthccascofanc|dcr|ywoman, |onga widow,
hcr grandson may rcprcscnt and stand as hcr husband.
^tthcburia|ofawoman, it is thchusbandwho |cads thccortcgc to thcgravc
sitc. Ifawomandicswhi|chcrhusbandisawayfromthcvi||agc, buria| ispostponcd
up to onc day whi|c hc is summoncd. ^ woman`s nata| kin attcnd thc buria| but
p|ay no ccntra| part in thc ritcs. ^s for thc actua| inhumation, it is notcworthy
that a man is buricd with hishcad to thc castand |yingonhisrightsidc, a woman
is buricd with hcr hcad to thc cast and |ying on hcr |cftsidc. Jhc "|cft" (rrn)
is associatcd with fcmininc, wcak, po||uting attributcs, thc "right" ( bolieme) with
mascu|inc, strong, c|car/c|can attributcs. Jhc j ura||y minor status ofa woman a
dcpcndcnt ofand"owncd" by hcrhusband) is indicatcd by thccustomsdcscribcd
abovc. ^ woman can on|y bc buricd by hcr husband or by a symbo|ic or proxy
husband, ifa manis unab|c to attcnd his wifc` sfuncra|hcwi||dc|cgatcto abrothcr
or fricnd thc ro|c of "husband. " Jhc pcrsona|ity traits which arc attributcd to
womcn, part|y on thc basis of thcir j ura||y minor status , arc wcakncss of wi | | ,
tcmpcramcnta|ity, capriciousncss , scxua| inhdc|ity.
^ pcrson whodics a confcsscd witchor as a rcsu|tofcursingdocsnotrcccivc
ordinary buria|. Jhoscwhodic accurscdarcavoidcd by a||cxccptthcirimmcdiatc
kin, whoarccontaminatcdbythccurscanyway. cop|cnoton|yshunthcbcrcavcd
fami|y, thcya|soavoidtcarsandcxprcssionsofsympathyforfcarofbcingassociatcd
with thc dcad pcrson and kin andthcrcby contaminatcd. 5ympathygifts arc not
givcn, and thc inhumation is conductcd unccrcmonious|y, quick|y, and covcrt|y
by thc dcad pcrson`s immcdiatc fami|y.
L H I L LK L M
Lhi |drcn who dic in car|y infancy, bcforc wcaning, arc buricd with cotton pods
around thc body, it is said that a c|oth shroud wou|d bruisc it. cop|c arc cnj oincd
not tocxprcssgricfor moum atan infant`s dcath sincc "tcars bum thc chi|d`sskin
and causc it pain. " Jhc actua| buria| of a chi|d is a pcrfunctory ahair invo|ving
on|y thc immcdiatc fami|y. 5omc conso|ation maybcohcrcdin thc bc| icfthatthc
infantoncc dcad may bc rcbom, thc on|y instancc ofrcincarnation bc| icfs among
thc Kuranko. ^ mothcr, disconso|atc and gricf-strickcn ovcr thc |oss of a chi|d,
maycutohits |itt|chngcr, s|ipa s|ivcrofwood undcr itshngcmai | , ortight|ybind
a hngcr wi th thrcad bcforc it is buricd. Whcn shc bcars hcr ncxt chi|d shc wi||
cxamincits hngcrs for a mark whichwi|| indicatc rcincamation. Yct, it is pointcd
out that pro|ongcd gricf ovcr thc |oss of an infant is futi|c, cvcn if thc chi|d is
rcbom it wi|| dic at thc samc agc as its prcdcccssor.
nfantdcad arc buricd at thc back ofthc housc, in thc domcstic arca known
asthcsundu kunye r ( |itcra||y, "bchind/rcarhcadon") whcrcwomcnprcparcfood
and cook, whcrcdomcstic rcfusc is discardcd, and whcrc|ics thc boundarybctwccn
onc compound and anothcr. Jhc front ofthc housc which, incidcnta||y, is asso-
ciatcd with thc "ma|c domain, " k dug) opcns onto thc luiye: thc compound
arca common to scvcra| agnatica||y intcrrc|atcd houscho|ds , which form a circ|c
around it.
^ chi|d is, to usc a phrasc of Mcycr ortcs' s, on|y an "incipicnt pcrson"
i y. o) . ^mong thc Kuranko, on|y initiation at pubcrty can crcatc a "who|c"
pcrson, a comp|ctc|y socia|i:cd adu|t. Lnti| initiation, chi|drcn arc considcrcd to
bc "i mpurc" and incomp|ctc|y bom, physica| birth must bc comp|cmcntcdby thc
ccrcmonia| "birth" undcrgonc during initiation. Jhc Kuranko cmphasis upon thc
transicnt and unstab|ccharactcrofinfant |ifc may bc a rationa|i:ation ofthc high
infant morta| ity ratc in onc vi||agc I survcycd it was 54 pcrccnt, birth to thrcc
ycarsofagc) . butthiscmphasisisa|soa |ogica|outcomcofKurankoconccptua|i:a-
tions ofsocia| positions.
|ust aswomcn arc margina| to thc po|iticoj ura|domain, so infant chi|drcn arc
margina|to thc domcsticdomain. Jhc customofburying a dcad infant among do-
mcstic rcfusc orundcrthc hcarthstoncs in thc sundu kunye r givcs obj cctivc cx-
prcssion to its margina|ity. Jhcrubbish compriscsmatcria|which is a|sopartway
bctwccn | ifc and dcath. groundnut husks no kcmc|) , husks of winnowcd grai n,
ash from cooking hcarths , swccpings from thc housc, discardcd scraps of food,
human cxcrcta. ' Morcovcr, an infant that is rcincamatcd wi|| bc namcd 5undu.
Jhcspiritofa dcad infant docs not |cavc thcwor|d ofthc |iving a|togcthcr, and
whi|c awaiting its ncw incamation it rcsidcs in thc body of thc 5cncga|csc hrc
hnch tintinburuwe) , a tamc townbird which ncsts in thc cavcsofhouscsandfccds
on |cavingsand scraps in thcsunu kunye r. Hcrt: , commcntinguponthc Oayak
and apuancustomsofp|acing thc infantdcad intrccs, summari:csbc|icfs pcrtain-
ing to thc dcathsofchi|drcn.
since the chi ldren have not yet entered the visible society, there is no reason to exclude
them from it slowly and painfully. As they have not really been separated fom the
world of spirits, they retur there directly, without any sacred energies needing to be
called upon, and wi thout a period of painful transition appearing necessary. The death
of a new-bor child is, at most, an infra-social event; since society has not yet given
anything of itself to the child, it is not afected by its disappearance and remains indif
ferent. ( r 96o: 84)
Jhc sma||-sca|c, pcrmnctory, and unccrcmonious charactcr of infant buria| ritcs
has bccn notcd in othcr^frican socictics.1 1 It sccms that thc kcy factors arc thc
minimal personality andmarginal sttus ofchi|drcn.
KL L L K5
In thc mortuary ritcs for a ru|cr, centrl status a chicf/ru|cr is known as sutigi,
"townowncr/mastcr", or, ifparamount, nyemn' tigi, "mastcr/owncrofthccountry, "
or tontigi, "|aw owncr/mastcr") i s associatcd with mximal personality ( mirn,
"charisma/dignity/bcaring/oratorica| prowcss/warrior strcngth") .
Jhc mncra|s for ru|crs or mcn of ru|ing | incagcs arc morc c|aboratc, furthcr
pro|ongcd, and |argcr in sca|c thanfor othcr catcgorics ofpcrsons. Jhc ritcs havc
bccn studicd by Kamara t z, t ) and 5aycrs t z) , I wi|| thcrcforc bricy
summari:c thosc aspccts ofthc ritcs which arc pcrtincnt, rcfcrring as wc|| to hc|d
obscrvations ofmyown.
Jhc actua| buria| ofa chicffo||ows thc pattcm a|rcady dcscribcd, cxccptthat
moumcrs comc from throughout thc chicfdom. ^t thc buria| a sword is carricd
hi|t downward to signi thc dcath of a warrior and chicf. ^ftcr thc buria| , a
"fricnd|y" chicfis ca||cd upon to hx thc datc for a spccia|sacrihcc known as kore;
thc day is customari|y thc hrst Jhursday aftcr thc ncw moon. Lhicfs from othcr
chicfdomsthroughoutKurankocountryarc invitcdtoattcndthispo|itica||ysignih-
cant cvcnt. Visiting chicfs bring sa|t andcows to bc sacrihccd.1 3 ^t thc kore for
a bo|oKarifa Oia|o of5ambaia, which5aycrsobscrvcd in tzt , thirtycowswcrc
brought, thoughon|y twc|vc wcrc actua||y s|aughtcrcd. Kamaranotcs thatasmany
asonchundrcdcowsarc s|aughtcrcdonsomcoccasionsandbothKamaraand5ay-
crs suggcst that thcrc is a "pot|atching" c|cmcnt in thc kore: "cvcryonc tricd to
outdo hisncighbouringcncrosity" 5aycrs t z. zU) , "cvcryvisitingchicfbringing
as many as hc can gct" Kamara t . t ) . Lomparativc|y fcw cows arc s|augh-
tcrcdatakore today, andwiththcdcc| incofchicypowcrsandpo|itica|a||ianccs,
mortuary ritcs for ru|crs arc now comparativc|y |ow kcy.
5omc indication of thc formcr po|itica| signihcancc of a kore is givcn in
5aycrs' s account. Jhrcc paramount chicfs attcndcd. bafara of Ka|ian, a mcmbcr
ofthc samc c|ananda po|itica| a||yofthcdcccascd, bambaaraoflicni , ncigh-
bors to thc castru|cdby thcKoromac|an, and thc Browa barawa' ) chicf, Karifa
Oumari Mara' ) , who attcndcd bricf|y, "hc|dhimsc|fostcntatious|ya|oof. . . and
wcnt homc" 5aycrs t z. zo) . barawa, situatcd to thc northcast, bcyond thc
"buhcr" chicfdomofKa|ian andru|cdbythc Mara, sti||rctainsa traditionofchau-
vinistic condcsccnsion toward thc 5ambaia Oia|o or |a||o) who arc of forcign
u|a) cxtraction, Mus|ims, and crstwhi|c dcpcndcnts upon Mara patronagc.
Ln thc Wcdncsday bcforc thc kore, thc]n gcnca|ogists and "rcmcmbranc-
crs" to thc ru|crs) mcct to appoint onc ofthcir mcmbcrs to announcc thc dcath
on thcfo||owingday. Jhisdocs not mcan that pcop|c arc j ustnow awarc thatthc
chicfisdcad, simp|y thatthc "socia|"dcath thcfuncra|) and thc "physica|"dcath
thc buria|) arc rcgardcd as quitc dihcrcnt cvcnts.
O Jhursday thc dcath is forma||y announccd, fo||owcd by a warrior's dancc
and accompanicd by thc wccping and |amcnting of thc bcrcavcd kinswomcn. In
thc aftcmoon, a bonhrc is prcparcd. Kamara writcs that a man "co||ccts as much
wood as wi|| cnab|c cvcry man, womanand chi|d attcnding thc mncra| to bring
onc |og cach" t . t ) . 5aycrs t z. z-zy) rccords that a Koli danccr |cads
thc vi||agcrs mcn, womcn, and chi |drcn) into thc bush and fc||s a trcc with a
doub|c-b|adcdax, cvcryonc must takcasprigandavoidothcrpcop|c' ssprigstouch-
ing thcirown.1 4 Jogcthcrwith as muchwoodas thcycan carry, thc vi||agcrs bring
thc sprigs back to town for thc bonhrc. It is |it that night, and c|othcs bc|onging
to thc dcccascd and sa|t arc thrownonto thc amcs as a sacrihcc and abso|ution.
Ln riday thc cows arc sacrihccd. 5omc arc brought by visiting chicfs, othcrs
arc contributcd by sons, brothcrs, and amncs ofthc dcad man. 5aturday ( Simbire)
is, through Is|amic inf|ucncc, considcrcd a day ofrcst. Visitors arc ob| igcd to prc-
parc and cookthcir own food.
5undayisgivcnovcrtodancing. Jo thcsoundofxy|ophoncs, harps , andutcs
and in fcstivc mood, hrstthcdcadman's sistcrs' sons , thcnma|c amncs, thcnthc
visiting chicfs j oin inthcdancing. ^|| givcfurthcr gifts to thcbrothcrs ofthc dc-
ccascd, thc chicfs to "showhow big and rich thcyarc" Kamara i . i ) . Jhc
dancingcontinucs throughout thc day, punctuatcd by gift giving, commcnsa|ity,
and various mimctic pcrformanccs. Jhis marks thc c|osc of thc ritua| scqucncc.
KLL L K L VL K 5 ^ L 5 ^M L M I M L J I L K I J L 5
romthcprcccdingsummaryaccountofthcscqucnccofcvcntsinKurankofuncra|s
oncgains|itt|c insightintothccmotions, motivcs, andrcactionsofindividua|par-
ticipants. Indccd, whi|cobscrvingpcop|c' s behvior during thc various ritcs, thcrc
is oftcn | itt|c to bctray to thc outsidcr thc actua| fcc|ings of individua|s. Jhis is
part|ybccausccmotionsarcconstraincd, organi:cd, andcxprcsscdaccordingtorit-
ua| prcscriptions.
In thc Kurankovicw, spontancous, privatc, oruncontro||cdcxprcssionsofgricf
arcnotsimp|yinappropriatc, thcyarcdangcrous. Hidingonc'strucfcc|ings which
rcquircs thc samc kind ofconscious contro| as simu|ating orfcigning ccrtain cmo-
tions) isrc|atcdto thcnccdtoprcvcntrccognitionby thc ghostofthcdcadpcrson
cf. Coody i z. U o on LoOagaa "mouming disguiscs") . Jhc Kuranko cxp|ain
that pining aftcr thc |ost onc is both futi|c and wrong. Joo much wccping and
|amcnting at a funcra| wi|| makc it dimcu|t for thc dcadpcrson's spirit to bc ac-
ccptcd into lkir; thc anccstors in lkir a||cgcd|y say, "Jhc spirit is not with us
unti| thosc oncarthhavc kcptquict. " ManyKuranko pointout that thcdcadpcr-
son's spirit wi|| bc |oath to |cavc gricf-strickcn kin, a bc|icfwhich possib|yfo||ows
from an attribution ofsubj cctivc gricfto thc |ost "obj cct. " Jhc manncr in which
subj cctivcstatcssuch aspining, scarching, gui |t, andangcrarcproj cctcdontothc
dcadpcrsonwas notcdby Hcrt: i o. o) |ongbcforc psycho|ogica| rcscarch cn-
ab|cd us to undcrstand thc mcchanisms and proccsscs invo|vcd arkcs i y) .
Cricving, pining, and uncontrlled wccping signi, i nthc Kuranko vicw, undu|y
pro|ongcd attachmcnt and ovcrsympathctic idcntihcation with thc dcad pcrson.
^swc sha||scc, gricvingand wccping must ccasc bcforc thc spiritofthc dcad pcr-
son wi|| dctachanddissociatc itsc|ffrom thcwor|dofthc|ivingandbccomctrans-
formcd into an anccstor.
Jhcdis|ocation, confusion, andconstcmationcauscdbyadcathmust, accord-
ing to thc Kuranko, bc signihcd by prcscribcd i . c. , socia||y dctcrmincd) pattcms
Th Idntity of th Dea 79
ofbchavior, notby spontancous and idiosyncratic cxprcssions. rcxamp|c, whcn
ajeliba is buricd thcjelimusu thc "jeli womcn") p|ay thc xy|ophonc ( balanje) , an
instrumcnt whichthcy arc norma||yprohibitcdfrom p|aying, andjeli mcnp|aythc
karinya, thc mcta|barwhichthcjelimusu norma||y p|ay. Ln somc occasions, cvcn
mcn of thc ru|ing | incagc p|ay thc xy|ophonc of a dcccascdjeliba. Jhc Kuranko
arc quitc cxp|icit in rc|ating thcsc usagcs to thc prcvai| ing condition ofsocia|dis-
ordcr.
SANAKU
It isnotcworthy that thccatcgoricsofpcrsons invo|vcdinthcscprcscribcdpattcms
ofdisordcr|yand anoma|ousbchaviorarc ncvcrthc immcdiatcbcrcavcd. Jhcyarc
"j oking partncrs. " Whcn a man has dicd, mcmbcrs of his sanku-|inkcd c|an
(sanakuiye, "intcrc|anj okingpartncrship") wi|| oftcncomc to thc houscwhcrc thc
body | ics and bind thc hands , fcct, and body of thc corpsc with ropc. Ho|ding
onc cnd of thc ropc, a sanku wi|| dcc|arc, "Jhis ropc wi|| bc unticd whcn you
pcop|c havc givcn us somcthing, " or "You cannot bury this man, hc is our s|avc, "
or, as thc womcn arc wccping, "Kccp quict, kccp quict, wc'rc going to wakc him
upnow. " ^gain, as thccortcgcmovcshomthcluiye tothcp|accofburia| , asanku
may protcst with suchwordsas "Hc' snotgoing, hc' smy s|avc, " andas thcsacrihcc
bcgins a sanku may appcar in thc luiye with a pariah dog on a makcshift |cash
and announcc, "I havc brought my cow for sacrihcc. " Jhcsc privi|cgcd modcs of
disparagingand abusing thcpcrsonand|incagcofthc dcccascd arcusua||yrcgardcd
by thc Kuranko as indications of thc prcvai|ing confusion. 5omc informants say
that thc |cvity of thc sanakuiye talon ( talon, "joking p|ay") is a way of dcccting
pcop|c's attcntion from thc gravity and sorrow of thc occasion. 5aycrs i z. zq)
dcscribcs onc pcrformancc.
There runs about the town, meanwhile, in and out amongst the people, a girl , clothed
in flthy cast of male attire, ragged, with blackened face and arms, as though with
the cinders and ashes of a burt far, and on her head is a symbolic bundle of faggots,
as though to say-a slave fulflling her household duties.
5aycrs notcs that thc gir| is a mcmbcrofa sanku-| inkcd c|an, thc c|ansmcn
"as faithfu| scrvants . . . havc a symbo|ic right to thc body ofthc dcad chicf, to
rcdccm which, hisfami|yand a|| thc pcop|c mustmakcprcscnts. " ^|thoughI havc
ncvcr obscrvcd this particu|arpcrformancc, I havc had itdcscribcdto mcbyinfor-
mants who cxp|ain that thc sanku's sc|f-abasing bchavior is a way ofcxaggcrating
thc high status position ofthc dcccascd ru|cr.1 5
MAMANIANENU
L|osc|y rcscmb| ing thc bchavior ofthcsankuj okcrs and promptingsimi|arcxp|a-
nations is thcbchaviorofacatcgoryofwomcnknownasmamnianenu. I dcscribcd
car|icrthcmmane' s do|cfu|circu|ar"dancc"forgifts,thcmamnianenu a|sohc|pwash
anddrcssthccorpscforburia| and mimic variousidiosyncracicsofthcir|atcgrand-
fathcr-his manncr of wa|king, dancing, and spcaking. ^s with thc sanku, thc
mimctic pcrformcrs dcsist on|y whcn thcy arc givcn gifts by thosc attcnding thc
mncra| .
One of the deceased's sons' wives dresses i n the Chief's clothes and tries to imitate
his walk and speech, for doing which she receives presents. Another puts on big trou
sers, goes to the bathing place and falls into the water. She comes out with the trousers
fll of water and then walks from Chief to Chief with a pestle which she uses to throw
water on people. Anybody disliking dirty water buys her of with a present as soon
as she tries to come near him. (Kamara I 9JJ: r s6)
5aycrs dcscribcs thc "mmni" at a funcra| , running about wi th a pcst|c and
mortar|ookingforricctopound. Jhcbchavioris intcrprctcdas"fcigningmadncss"
i z. zq) . 5aycrsa|sodcscribcs"mamusa" | itcra||y, "ourrc|atcdwoman, " i . c. , sis-
tcr) who is not, as 5aycrs says , "onc ofthc wivcs of thc dcad man", shc ro||s a
makcshifthshingnct across thcgroundrcco||cctinghowsistcrshshforthcirbrothcr
thcchicfwhcnhc isa| ivc. Jhcmamanianenu a|sopcrformadancconthcJhursday
of a chicfs funcra| during which thcy fo|d and unfo|d thcir lapa, thus cxposing
thcmsc|vcs "obsccnc|y" to thc crowd. ^gain, giftsarc givcn by thc mcn who a|so
cnj oy with "quips and gibcs" and sa|acious g|anccs thc momcntary divcstmcnt of
cach ofthc |atc chicfs sons' wivcs z-zy) .
5 LL I ^ L V L K 5 L5 L K 5 LM ^ L
Jhcsc "mimctic, " "obsccnc, " "mad, " and transvcstitc pcrformanccs by thc sanku
j okcrs and thc mamanianenu arc far morc charactcristic of thc funcra| of a chicf
than ofa commoncr, and thcy do not occur at thc funcra| ofa woman. L|car|y,
thcsc usagcs somchow rcf|cct thc status of a pcrson in |ifc and aftcr | ifc. It is my
vicw that thc pcrformanccs dcscribcd abovc assist thc po|ari:ation and scparation
oftwo aspccts ofthc idcntityofthc dcccascd. his idiosyncratic and his socia| pcr-
sona|ity.
Jhc mimctic pcrformanccs arcsimultaneouly an attcmptto rcvivi or rctain
mcmoricsofthc pcrson andto cxpungcthoscmcmorics. Jhc incptandridicu|ous
aspcctsofthcwomcn'simitationsofthcpcrsonmayscrvctotumpcop|c'sattcntion
to thc morcabstractandforma|attributcsofthcanccstra|pcrsona. Itison|ywhcn
mcmoricsofthc dcadpcrson's manncrisms anddchcicncics arc dcnicd through rc-
prcssionormaskingthatthcdcadcancxcmp|i, asanabstractcatcgory, thcva|ucs
and customs of thc socicty. Ln|ikc thc physica| and idiosyncratic aspccts of thc
pcrson, thcsc"va|ucsandcustoms"havc amorcimpcrsona|charactcr,thcybc|ong
to thc pcrdurab|c domain ofthc socia| rathcr than to thc mutab|c and pcrishab|c
domain ofthc pcrsona|.
Jhisthcatrica| "sctting apart" ofthcdcad pcrson' s idiosyncratic pcrsona|ity is
para||c|cd by various customs, a|rcady rcfcrrcd to, which scrvc to drivc away thc
dcad pcrson' s spirit and dissociatc thc |iving from thc dcad. Jhus, pro|ongcd
mouming is prohibitcd |cst thc spirit rcmain among and haunt thc vi||agcrs as a
ma|cvo|cnt ghost, thc widows arc quarantincd, thc gravc issca|cdwith hcavy |ogs
and stoncs to prcvcnt thc spirit rctuming to thc body, and sacrihccs arc ohcrcd
to Cod and to thc anccstors in ordcr to spccd thc spirit to lakira and cnsurc its
rcccption thcrc.
1 6
J H L J^ I l J L OL ^J H
I havc a|rcady a| |udcd to thc intcrconncctcd proccsscs of scparating body from
spirit, scparatingthc idiosyncraticpcrsona|ityhomthcsocia|pcrsona|ity, and scpa-
rating thc dcad from thc |iving. Jhcsc arc transformativc proccsscs, and unti| thc
scparations arc chcctcd, a condition of impurity obtains.
^ J L K M^J H
Jhc Kuranko tcrm bonk "dust, " "dirt , " "carth") orfera bonk (fer signihcs thc
bush and, morcgcncra||y, cxtrasocia|spacc) rcfcrsto thcphysica|body. Cod (Ala)
makcs cach individua| pcrson from carth takcn from oncparticu|ar p|acc. Vhcn
a pcrsondics , Ala issupposcdto dircctpcop|cto intcrthcbodyatthatsamcp|acc.
Jhc word dugu or duge ) , which is uscd to rcfcr to a particu|ar p|acc, |ocation,
orpatchofground, is a|so uscd insomc contcxtsasasynonymforthchumanbody.
5omctimcs, too, thc mctaphor of a sccd within its husk is uscd to cxp|ain how
thc "| ifc" is in thc body. |ust as thc bush or wi|dcmcss surrounds thc communi ty,
sothc body surrounds thc |ifc. Jhc comp|cmcntary tcrm nic may bc trans|atcd as
"|ifc , " "|ifc forcc, " or "spirit. " O a |iving pcrson, onc saysa ni' a r ( | itcra||y, "hc/
shc |ifc is in" ) , and it is thc nic which |cavcs thc body at thc momcnt of dcath
andmustbcassistcd, throughhumanintcrvcntion, onitspassagctolkir. Ocrivcd
hom thc ^rabic (al-akhir) , lakir is whcrc thc anccstra| spirits dwc| | , a|though
somc anccstors particu|ar|y of ru|ing | incagcs) arc oftcn associatcd with ccrtain
|andscapc sitcs. a granitc insc|bcrg, a |akc, a mountai n, a rivcr ho|c.
Jhis vagucncss about and indihcrcncc to thc actua| charactcr ofthc aftcr|ifc
is typica|ofthc Kuranko. uncra|s arc sccn as mcans ofrcmoving thc dcad pcrson
from thc wor|d of thc |iving rathcr than transporting him to and insta|| ing him
in thc wor|d of thc dcad. Jhcdcad pcrson's spirit nic) |cavcs thc wor|d of thc
|iving whcn two conditions havc bccn mct. thc body is buricd and sca|cd undcr
thc carth and thc bcrcavcd havc ccascdwccping and gonc into iso|ation. but bc-
twccn thc momcnt ofdcath and thc momcnt whcn thc nic dcparts for good, thc
nic rcmains in thc vi||agc as a c|andcstinc and wandcring ghost. Jhis "pitim| yct
dangcrous" ghost Hcrt: t c. -y) is |ikcncd, by thc Kuranko, to a shadow
ninnc, possib|c ctymo|ogy, "|ifc |itt|c") . Jhc ghost which is known as thc yiyei)
is unab|c to discntang|c itsc|fcmotiona||yhomkinsmcnandfricndsandthusmay
bcintcrprctcdasaproj cctionofsubj cctivcstatcs-inthiscasc, thcmixturcof "pro-
tcst" and "scarching" rcactions on thc part ofthc bcrcavcd. Lcrtain|y thc associa-
tionofthc yiyei with thc "| imina|"phascofa funcra| isrccctcdin thc anoma|ous
charactcristics attributcd to it. Its footstcps or ghost|y sobbing may bc hcard,
yct itisas insubstantia|asashadow. It canhauntandafictthc |iving, yct itisin-
tangib|c.
Jhcrc isan importantcorrc|ationbctwccnthccmotiona|attachmcntbctwccn
thc dcadpcrson's spirit and thc immcdiatcbcrcavcd and thc conditionofimpurity
or contagion that obtains whi|c thc attachmcnt |asts. It can bc argucd that thc
"i magc" ofimpurity andcontagionnoton|ysignihcs a disordcrcd socia|condition,
it cnab|cs pcop|c to a|tcr subj cctivc statcs by manipu|ating cxtcma| simu|acra.
Jhus, physica| scparation is an outward cxprcssion of thc cmotiona| "forgctting"
that is dcmandcd. Jhc dcadpanfaccsofthcmmanianenu arc physica||ysuggcstivc
ofthc contro| andsupprcssion ofgricfthatiscxpcctcd. It is as ifthc mmanianenu
and thc sanaku j okcrs wcrc manipu|atcd, ormanipu|atcd thcmsc|vcs , as obj ccts in
ordcr to chcct vicarious|y and magica||y a changc in thc subj cctivc statc of thc
bcrcavcd. Jhcirautomatic and thcatrica| bchaviorstandsincontrastto thcsponta-
ncous and gcnuinc|y cmotiona| cxprcssionsofthc immcdiatc bcrcavcd. by giving
public promincncc to thc formcr it is pcrhaps hopcd that thc privatc condition of
thc |attcr wi|| bc cc| ipscd or transformcd.
Whcn wc considcr thc kinds of situations which arc po||uting and thc prc-
scribcdrcspo
scstothcscsituationswccanscchow"purc" cmotion|css) catcgorics

arc uscd to transform "impurc" cmotiona||y chargcd) situations. Lrdcr is crcatcd
outofdisordcr, purityoutofdangcr. Jab|cz summari:csthcmainpo||uting circum-
stanccs and thc appropriatc ritua| rcsponscs to thcm. It a|so indicatcs thc cxtcnt
to which thc notion of taint or contagion is cxprcsscd through mctaphors of im-
propcrscxua| rc|ations.
I M LK I J Y
Jhc association ofdirt and coitus and thc association ofdcath and scxua|ity havc
bccndiscusscdbymanywritcrs notab|yCoody i z. -, buxton i y. i qy-o,
bcidc|man i ) . ^mongthc Kuranko it isnotj ustthatprocrcativcscxua|ity and
dcath arc |ogica||y opposcd cf. buxton on thc Mandari , i y .i q) , rathcr that
scxua| ity has ambiva|cnt connotations. Lici t, conj uga| , procrcativc scxua| ity
crcatcs socia| rc|ations, it binds | incagcs togcthcr in rcciproca| , | ifc-giving
compacts. I| | ici t, c|andcstinc, adu|tcrous, rccrcativc scxua| ity sundcrs socia| tics,
it cngcndcrs j ca|ousy, unccrtainty, and "darkncss" among mcn. 1 7 Jhis ambiva-
|cncc of Kuranko attitudcs toward scxua|ity may cxp|ain why scxua| ity is such a
dominantsymbo| in thc contcxtofmortuary ritcs whcrc conf|ictsbctwccn attach-
mcnt and discngagcmcnt, binding and scvcring, crcating and dcstroying arc so
ubiquitous.
1 8
With rcfcrcncc to tab|c z, it can bc sccn that ccrtain catcgorics of pcrsons
arc "purc" or"abovc contagion. " Jhcy mcdiatc, so to spcak, bctwccn thc commu-
nity and thc bcrcavcd kin. Jhc hrst catcgory compriscs womcn past mcnopausc
and, occasiona||y, scxua||y innoccnt i . c. , uninitiatcd) gir|s. Hcrc, abscnccofscx-
ua| rc|ations makcs it possib|c for thcsc womcn to touch thc man's corpsc with
impunity. Wivcsanddaughtcrs mustavoidcontactwith thccorpsc. Jhcy |cad thc
kccning.
Jhc sccond catcgory compriscs thc dcad man's sistcrs' sons singu|ar, berinne;
|itcra||y, "|itt|c matcma| unc|c") . ^ sistcr's son, usua| |y a manbothgcnca|ogica||y
The Idntity of the Dea 83
TABLE 2.
Pollution and Response
Polluting Circumstance
A man dying or gravely ill
The grave, the corpse, and
grave-digging tools; the
burial party
"Last rice" for the dead man
Spontaneous and impetuous
expressions of grief
Adulterer participating in
the sacrifce ( i . e. , a man
who has had an afair with
the deceased's wife)
Widows, children, and property
of the deceased
Mimetic performances in which
the mmane or mamua touches
men in the crowd
Ritual Response
Obj ects touched and used by the invalid or
attendants must not leave the house;
possible adulterers are avoided; sick
man is attended by son and wife ( if she
is past menopause)
Purifcation by washing
Prepared by virgin girls
"Social" control of afect
Adulterer must avoid accepting or eating meat
fom the sacrifced animal lest he die
Quarantine; no direct communication with the
widows is permitted; those who have never lost a
kinsman should avoid seeing the widows; widows
are purifed by being dressed in white gowns and
bathed by women past menopause
Gifts given to "lay the ghost"
andcmotiona||yc|oscto his unc|c, watchcsovcrandrcmains withthcwidowsand
propcrty during thc pcriod of quarantinc. ^|| communications with thc widows
"go through"hi m, sinccforothcrs thcwidows"sti||carry thcdcathwith thcmand
arc fcarcd. " Itiscxp|aincdthatthc sistcr'sson prcvcnts thcdcad man's ghostfrom
making contact with thc widows. ^skcd why a brothcr or sistcr of thc dcccascd
cou|dnotkccpvigi|, thcKurankousua||ypointoutthatabrothcrmightbcharbor-
ing a grudgc and a sistcrwou|d not havc thc couragc. Jhc sistcr's son "acts in thc
p|acc ofthc dcad man's sistcr. " Lnc man to|d mc.
We permi t the sister's son to watch over the widows because if the dead man' s yiyei
approaches it will see the sister's son there on the porch of the house [where he sits
by day and sleeps at night] ; it will not go past him and frighten the women; it wi l l
immediately think of the sister's son as the sister ( i . e. , recollect the strict taboo against
a man touching or ofending his sister] ; the sister will be inside the house to console
the widows and prevent them from being fightened by their late husband's ghost.
Jhc intcrvcnicnt ro|cofthc sistcr's son isarcf|cctionofthcfactthathc issimu|ta-
ncous|ysocia||y c|osc his mothcr isthcdcccascd'ssistcrandbc|ongcd to his |inc-
agc) andsocia||y distant hc, |ikc his fathcr, bc|ongs to anothcr | incagc) .
^ simi|ar ambiguity obtains for thc third and fourth catcgorics. thc sanku
partncrs and thc mmanianenu. I havc discusscd c|scwhcrc thc "status ambigui ty"
of thc sankuiye |ackson i yq) , hcrc somc furthcr commcnts must bc madc on
thc ro|c ofthc mamanianenu.
5 J^M O - I M 5
^ possib|c cxp|anation for thc fact that thc principa| actors in thc mortuary ccrc-
monics arc not thc immcdiatc bcrcavcdbut rathcrpcrsonsambiguous|y idcntihcd
with thc | incagc ofthc dcccascd is that thc powcrfu| and impctuous cmotions of
thc bcrcavcmcnt rcaction cou|d not gcncratc or maintain a scqucncc and pattcm
ofsocial cvcntswhoscpurposcsgomrthcrthanthcmcrcpsycho|ogica|rcadj ustmcnt
ofindividua|s to thc dcath ofa |ovcd onc.
or thc bcrcavcdwomcn, profound cmotionsdctcrminc thcirattitudcs toward
thcdcccascd. bycontrast, thc associationor idcntihcationofthcmamne with hcr
grandfathcr is foundcd upon an artihcc of|ogic. but a woman may dcvc|op strong
cmotiona| attachmcnt to hcr fathcr's fathcr or husband' s grandfathcr simp|y bc-
causc a forma| princip|c in thc socia| systcm-thc idcntihcation ofnonadj accnt
gcncrations-makcssuchattachmcntspossib|candappropriatc. 5tructura||yspcak-
ing, thc mamane is p|accd in an ambiguous position. c|osc|y idcntihcd with thc
grandfathcr yct a|so a strangcrbccausc ofobvious agc, scx, and status dihcrcnccs.
^s a rca| or hctivc afhnc a man j oking|y ca||s his granddaughtcr "my wifc")
shc is , as it wcrc, ha|hay bctwccn strangcrhood (sunanye) and kinship
(nakelinyorgoye) . Lasi|yassuminghcr a|tcmativcorshadow ro|c, shc iswc||p|accd
to act outonbcha|fofthcbcrcavcdwivcsandsons thc cmotiona| confusions and
constcmations of thc bcrcavcmcnt rcaction.1 9 by "standing in" for thc bcrcavcd,
thc mimctic pcrformcrs a|so "stand bctwccn" thc bcrcavcd and thc ma|cvo|cnt
ghostofthc dcadman. by"standinga|oof"from thc ahcctivc turmoi|ofthc occa-
sion, thcy arc a|so in a position to assist thc passagc of thc dcad pcrson's spirit
from thc wor|dofthc |iving signihcd by c|osc kinship attachmcnts) to thc wor|d
ofthc dcad whcrc pcrsona| attachmcnts and ahcctions arc transccndcd) .
^nothcr kind ofsignihcancc possib|y attachcs to thc dcrisivc and dcrogatory
c|cmcnts in thc mimctic pcrformanccs. Jhcsc pcrformanccs arc noton|y givcn by
catcgoricsofpcrsonswho arc atoncc idcntihcdwith anddissociatcdfromthcdcad
pcrson, thcy arc indicativc ofthc ambiva|cncc which charactcri:cs thc attitudc of
thc bcrcavcd. Jhc mixturc of ahcction and animosity is convcycd by thc gauchc
imitations which simu|tancous|y cc|cbratc and mock thc mcmory ofthc dcccascd.
Ln thc intc||cctua| p|anc, thc dcrisivc trcatmcnt ofthc idiosyncratic pcrsona|ity
of thc dcccascd is a crucia| phasc in thc transformation of pcrson into pcrsona,
ofan individua| into a catcgory.
^n cxamp|c wi|| indicatc how thc mamanianenu act out and rccct upon thc
anoma|ous position and possib|y ambiva|cnt cmotions of a son at his fathcr's fu-
neral. As successor, a son is placed in an ambiguous position until the conclusion
of the ritual period ( forty days ) . His father is physically dead (buried) , yet not so
cially dead (forgotten) until chefare. While the son assumes a formal and flial atti
tude, his daughters and j unior wives ("j oking wives" of the deceased) act in ways
which make it manifestly clear that the son has become his father. They don their
"husband's" cap and gown. Thus, while the son's piety and reserve seem to intimate
the continued presence of the father, the actions of the mamanianenu signif the
contrary and express openly the disguised status of the successor.
T H EOR E TI CA L AN D C OMPAR AT I V E
CON S I DE RATI ON S
It is clear from the evidence adduced in the preceding account and analysis of
Kuranko mortuary customs that a reductionist approach which seeks to explain a
particular social confguration in terms of psychological or ethnological factors
( i . e. , in terms of l inear causality) is inadequate. As information about the psycho
logical or behavioral fragments is gained, so information about the total system
is lost. The polysemic and multidimensional character of the ritual confguration
can be respected and communicated only when we adopt an approach which inte
grates and synthesizes several available perspectives.
I have taken the view that the psychological processes and the behavior which
characterize the bereavement reaction are phylogenetic adaptations. But this reper
toire of afective states and behavior patters is subj ect to social "control" and
manipulation. The ways in which elements from this repertoire are arranged and
the meanings ascribed to these elements vary signifcantly from one society to an
other and fom one social context to another ( Mead 1 952: 41 1 -1 4; Volkart 1 957:
286-301 ; Bastide 1 972: xs8-6o; Mandelbaum I 96s: 338-6o; Huntingdon and
Metcalf 1 979) . The actual confguration of these "given" elements is refective of
certain universal structuring principles, e. g. , the principle of "dialectical nega
tion. " But the purpose of the ritual confguration, l ike its meaning, difers fom soci
ety to society. This is undoubtedly because the problem of the bereaved is only
one of many problems which mortuary rites are designed to solve. Fr example,
among the LoDagaa the "mai n concer" of mortuary institutions is the reallocation
of rights and duties of the dead man among the surviving members of the commu
nity, particularly property rights and sexual rights (Goody 1 962: chap. 1 3 ) . Jean
Buxton ( 1 973: 1 53) has emphasized that both "personal emotional adj ustments"
and "social adj ustments" have to be made through Mandari death rites. Among
the Yoruba, Nuer, Lugbara, and many other African peoples, great emphasis is
placed upon the transformation of the identity of the dead ( Morton-Will iams 1 960;
Evans- Pritchard 1 956: chap. 6; Middleton 1 97 1 ) .
What remains typical in all these various cases is that the afective elements
are managed, allocated, simulated, controlled, and interpreted in various ways de
pending upon the kinds of problems, both personal and social , to be solved. This
means that identical behavior in two or more societies does not necessarily imply
identical afect or motivation. Furthermore, the "social problems" to be solved are
not necessarily mere secondary elaborations or extensions of the "psychological
problems" of bereavement. To elucidate this point I want to consider briefy the
manner in which the person is transformed into a category, i . e. , an ancestor.
Freud noted that mouring "has a quite specifc physical task to perform: its
function is to detach the survivors' memories and hopes from the dead" ( I 965: 65 ) .
More recent studies have shown how "selective forgetting" assists this detaching
fnction and helps mitigate the pain of grieving ( Parkes I 975; Kibler-Ross I 970) .
This psychological process is, however, acted out by persons other than the be
reaved in order to perform a uniquely social task-a cognitive alteration in which
the person is transformed into an ancestor by frst suppressing awareness of his phys
ical and idiosyncratic aspects. At the fnal funeral of a Kaguru man, the dead person
is said to have been "forgotten" ( Beidelman I 97 I : I I 5 ) . Among the Yoruba, before
the second burial is held, an engngn masquerader simulates for the last time the
"actual bodily appearance" of the deceased ( Morton-Williams I 960: 36) . The
Mandari , Tallensi , and Lugbara destroy possessions which represent aspects of the
"social personality" of the deceased ( i . e. , with the individual ) ; other "lineage prop
erty" is inherited ( Buxton I 973: I 2 I ; Fortes I 973: 3o3; Middleton I 965: 65-66) .
The destruction of personal property, like the forgetting and expunging of the
idiosyncratic personality of the dead, is of course a preliminary to creating the tran
scendent image of ancestor. For example, among the Tallensi a small strip of the
deceased's clothing is referred to as the deceased's "dirt"; it "stands for the deceased"
and "represents the dead during the interval between the mortuar and the fnal
funeral ceremonies. " Fortes notes that it
is fnally disposed of when a collection of his personal utensils, such as dishes for food
and water, is ritually destroyed, to dispatch him fnally to the ancestors. This clears
the way for him to be brought back into his family and l ineage in the character of
an ancestor, that is not a human person, endowed with mystical and spiritual powers,
and therefore with rights to worship and serice. ( 1 973:303)
This is comparable with the Nuer distinction between the individual ( who
should not survive) and the name (which should endure) , or with the Lugbara no
tion that at death attributes of the physical body must be extinguished so that ideal
attributes of the soul can survive ( Evans- Pritchard I 956: I 62-63; Middleton
1 97 1 : 1 94) .
This process of "induced amnesia" i s often said to take three generations ,
which is in fact approximately the time required for all those who knew a particular
individual to die. Thereafter there is no direct knowledge or real memory of that
individual ( I berall 1 972: 252) . Thus, among the Mandari, three generations after
death "a deceased person is merged in the ancestral collectivity and the dropping
out of the long dead refects the working of actual memory in relation to passing
time" ( Buxton I 973: 1 5 1 ) . The Mende divide "ancestors" (n::bl) into nbl
( "the nameless and timeless dead") and kckci ("the fathers who are remembered") ;
this corresponds to a division between "ancient times when present patters were
establ ished, and the past which is in the memor of the olest people in the tow"
( Cosentino 1 982: 2, my emphasis) . Bloch's superb study of the secondary fneral
The Idntity of th Dea 87
(famihna) among the Merina of Madagascar indicates how the names and per
sonalities of the dead are forgotten: a "ritually sacrilegious attitude" is forced upon
the living, involving rough treatment of the corpse and obl igations to handle the
skeleton so that the close relatives will accept the irreversibility and fnality of
death ( I 97 I : I s8, I 68-69) . Among the Fang, reliquary fgures represent "living per
sons in general" and not particular living persons ( Ferandez I 973: 204) . One of
Ferandez's informants explained why this should be so:
The fgure represents no ancestor. There are many skulls in the rel iquary. Who should
we choose to represent ? And who would be satisifed with the choice if his own grand
father should be ignored? The fgures were made to war others that this was "the box
of skulls" and they were made to represent all the ancestors within. ( 205)
The foregoing digression, which only touches upon a subj ect of immense inter
est and signifcance, does indicate that "psychological" factors and processes are
often the raw material out of which consciously contrived ceremonial and meta
phorical patters are fashioned and elaborated. But these patters should not be
reduced to psychogenic factors , even though they frequently display a "vocabulary
of afect. " With reference to mortuary rites , there is a remarkable similarity be
tween the psychological process of withdrawal or detachment prior to a new attach
ment being made, the socioeconomic process of withholding and then redistribut
ing property and offces, and the intellectual process of suppressing or denying the
idiosyncratic personality of the deceased in preparation for a new "ancestral" role.
But it would be incorrect, in my view, to regard any one of these processes
as determinant. The psychological process of mouring, grieving, and the bereave
ment reaction constitute a repertoire of elements which are subj ect to manipula
tion, variant signifcation, rearrangement, and simulation for the purposes of re
solving problems and efecting transformations which go beyond the domain of
mere afect.
SIX
The Witch as a Category and
as a Person
In February 1 970 an epidemic of insect-bore encephalitis swept through the vil
lage of Kamadugu Sukurela in norther Sierra Leone. There were many deaths.
The vi llage was under a pall . In due course, the chief and elders summoned a male
witch-hunting cult known as Gbangbane from Farandugu, four miles away. At
night, as we huddled indoors , the "devil" moved among the houses. Its ominous,
muffed voice, the shufe of feet in the darkness, the staccato of wooden clappers
gban gban, gban gban-infected us all with deep disquiet.
My feld assistant, Noah Marah, and I spent several days in the village, think
ing we might be of some use, but there was little we could do, so we left. A couple
of weeks later we retured and sought out a friend of Noah' s, Morowa Marah,
whom I'd met on our initial visit. We sat on the porch of Morowa's house. His
wife served us a meal of rice and groundnut stew. I asked Morowa to tell us what
had happened in our absence.
The witch-hunters had diagnosed the cause of one man's illness as witchcraft
and promised to deal with the witch before returing to Farandugu. According to
Morowa, Gbangbane had told the chief and elders that the ofending witch would
fall ill with chest, neck, and head pains and shit herself or himself before dying.
The following day the sick man succumbed and died, as Gbangbane had predicted.
Eight days later his sister fell gravely ill. In her pain and distress, she confessed
she had killed her brother by witchcraft. "I was hunting him for a year, " she said.
"The frst time I tried to kill him was when he went to brush his farm, but I missed
him. The branch only knocked out some of his teeth [such an accident had oc
curred] . But this year we [her coven) lay in wait for him on the path to his
palm wine trees. We beat him up and inj ured him. Then he fell ill . " The woman
also explained her motive for wanting to kill her brother: she had once asked him
for some rice and he had refsed her. But why she had used witchcraft against her
brother rather than cursing him, as is a sister's right, was left unexplained. Then,
as the woman lay ill inside her house, Gbangbane came again and ordered that she
be buried at once. Men bound her hands and feet and dragged her to the outskirts
of the village. There they dug a shallow grave and buried her al ive. Banana leaves
and stones were thrown in on top of her. During the entire episode, all the women
of the village remained indoors.
Th With a a Catgo an a a Person 89
When Morowa had fnished his account I found it impossible not to accuse
him of being accessory to a murder. My outrage astonished him, and he tried to
help me understand.
"If it had been my choice, " he said grimly, "I would have had her thrown into
the bush without burial . But we buried her in the grassland beyond the Mabumbuli
[stream) so that when the grass is dry we can set fre to it and tum her face into
hel l . A witch deserves no respect. A witch is not a person. "
I knew Morowa and his wife had lost children as a result of witchcraft; I also
knew what appalling tension the community was under. But the image of a woman
being buried alive poisoned my feel ings toward Morowa and, for a time, toward
all Kuranko who shared his view. My only consolation came from Morowa's report
that shortly after the murder (for I could not think of it otherise) , the witch's
shade or puln invaded the village and Morowa had been the frst to be haunted. 1
As he slept, it settled on his head. He opened his eyes but could not cry out. He
lay in terror as though an immense weight were pressing down on him. Other men
in Kamadugu Sukurela were also aficted. The puln terrorized the village. Finally,
the chief and elders summoned a puln-catcher (puln bl) from Bambunkura, a
village twelve miles away. This man, Musa, bagged the puln in the form of a l izard
in the dead woman's house. However, her son, distressed by the awful circum
stances of his mother's death, refused to accept that the lizard was his moth
er's shade. Piqued, Musa went back to Bambunkura. But the puln-haunting
continued, and the dead woman's son was now aficted by it. Once more
the puln-catcher was summoned from Bambunkura, and the son was ordered
by the chief and elders to pay the Le. 8 fee as well as apologize to Musa for doubt
ing his skills. Musa then caught the puln ( again in the form of a lizard) and
killed it.
These events introduce the ethical and epistemological issues I want to ad
dress in this chapter. The most obvious question is whether the Kuranko word
suwage corresponds to the English word "witch" and whether there is any j ustif
cation for call ing Morowa's haunting "guilt" or the killing of the woman "mur
der. " This is not j ust a matter of semantics and "accurate translation"; we
have to work out whether it is possible to gain access to ideas and experiences
designated suwa' ye ("witchcraft") in Kuranko and understand them in terms
of ideas and experiences familiar to us in our own culture. A critical issue here
is elucidating the relationship between conventional notions of witchcraft and
the experiences of women who actually confess to being witches-the relation
ship between episteme and experience, knowledge and event. But underlying
all these questions, I shall argue, is a problem that afects Kuranko vi llag
ers as well as anthropologists: the way our discursive categories distort our percep
tion of persons. Thus, the pathology of conventional Kuranko thought, which
denies personhood to a woman who in extreme distress confesses herself a "witch, "
i s uncannily like the pathology of much anthropological discourse which
buries the experience of the individual subj ect in the categories of totalizing
explanation. 2
IMAGES OF THE WI T C H
To understand what the Kuranko mean when they say a witch is not a person,
it is necessary to clarify the indigenous concept of margoye ( "personhood") .
Morgoye implies respect for and mindfulness of others, an abstract attitude in which
personal purposes are consonant with collective goals. Ideally, a person is magnani
mous, open, and straightforward in his or her deal ings with others. A sociable per
son is "sweet" ( margo di ), he or she likes the company of others. Or a person is
"open" (margo gbe; literally, person clear/white) and "straight" ( margo telne}. An
unsociable person is "bent" and "devious" (margo dugune) like a crooked path. Or
a person is "broken-down" ( kare), on an analogy with a dilapidated house ( bon
kore), a broken calabash, wor-out clothes, an abandoned farm, and similar "use
less" things. Sometimes an antisocial person is referred to as a "bush person" (fr
margo) or an "unwell person" (margo kn m) , kn meaning physically "healthy"
as well as socially or morally "proper. " Anyone who sets himself or herself apart
from others is quite simply "not a person" (margo m).
The stereotype of a witch includes all these notions of deviance, resentment,
wi ldness , and sickness ; essentially, it is a dialectical negation of the moral concept
of morgoye. As the Kuranko word suwage3 ( literally, "night owner") suggests, a
witch acts surreptitiously, under cover of darkness, using powers which are invisible
to ordinary eyes: witch weapons , witch medicines, witch gowns , witch animals,
even witch airplanes. These are the things the witch-hunting cults attempt to track
down, for Gbangbane cannot directly destroy a witch, only disarm her. Witchcraft
(suwa' ye) is not inherited; it is an inbor proclivity-which is why, though witches
are criminals, a witch's kin are never tainted by or held accountable for her actions.
Witches have "bad yugi, " something that cannot be resisted or willed away.
A witch's "life" (nie) supposedly leaves her sleeping body at night and moves
abroad, often in the body of an animal familiar. As her "life goes out" (a nie ara
t), her body may be shaken by convulsions and her breathing cease. In this state
of suspended animation, the body is vulnerable; if it is tured around, then the
witch's nie will not be able to reenter it and she will die. 4 A witch will also per
ish if the dawn fnds her out of her body. The animals most commonly associated
with witches sum up the traits of witchcraft: predatory ( leopard) , scavenging
( hyena, vulture) , underground ( snakes) , noctural ( bats, owls) ; indeed, the owl
(gbingbinyaga) is sometimes called the "witch bird" "because it is seldom seen and
fl ies by night. "
Witches are predatory and cannibalistic. But they do not attack a victim' s
"l ife" (nie) directly; they "consume" some vital organ (usually the liver, heart, or
intestines) or drain away the victim's blood or break the victim's backbone by tap
ping him on the nape of the neck. It is said that witches work in covens and that
the greatest threat of witchcraft attack lies within the extended family ( kebil) , i . e. ,
"from those who share a common inheritance. "1 As one man put it, "Witchcraft
is eating yourself" ( meaning that a witch usually "eats" her own child, her co-wife' s
child, her grandchild, or her brother's child) but "sorcery is destroying others. "6
Th With a a Category an a a Person 91
Witchcraft operates through blackmail and indebtedness. A witch will somehow
"open the door" of her own house by nullifing the protective medicines which
the household head has placed over the l intel . Then a witch from her coven steals
into the house and "eats" one of its occupants-usually a child, because children
are less l ikely to be protected by personal medicines. The aggressor is obl iged to
discharge her debt at some later time by making it possible for her co-witch to
claim a victim from her house. One informant told me that "only someone close
to you could betray you to the witches by telling them where you sleep in the house
and by opening the door to them. " A Kuranko adage is often used in support of
this reasoning: sundan wa dugu koro worla bar dugranu d l sonti i ye ( if a stranger
[guest] uncovers something hidden, someone living in that place [the host] must
have told him where it was ) .
These popular stereotypes of witches and witchcraft are logically derived
through a systematic inversion of what is regarded as ideal social behavior (cf.
Beidelman 1 986: chap. 9; Middleton 1 97 1 : 238-so) : day/night, open ( kenema)/
underhanded (duworon) , villagers/bush creatures, sociability/selfshness, gener
alized reciprocity/negative reciprocity.
So far I have summarized what Kuranko men told me about witchcraft when
I broached the subj ect with them. But directed interviews and leading questions
bring into relief only one dimension of the phenomenon. Consider, for instance,
that many men were loath to discuss witchcraft with me in public lest their
conversancy with the subj ect be taken as evidence that they themselves were
witches. This immediately suggests that the defnition of a witch as a nefarious
and self-seeking woman does not exhaust the semantic range of the term suwa' ye.
In fact the polysemic character of the term can be readily established. Thus,
Kuranko acknowledge that the notoriously unstable and j ealous relationship be
tween nonuterine brothers ( known as fadenye) is a potential source of witchcraft.
It is also frequently pointed out that a farmer who produces a surplus above his
subsistence needs , a man of wealth and position, and a child who excels at school
or is well favored are all likely to be envied and resented-fertile grounds for witch
craft attack. The illicit use of destructive medicines, independent of a medicine
master, to bring shame, adversity, or death to an enemy is also spoken of as witch
craft. So too is the use of poisons (dabere) such as munke ( "gunpowder") and
gbenkan, 7 which malevolent old women allegedly sprinkle in children' s food or
water.
Clearly, witches are not invariably women. Nor do they j ust use psychic pow
ers, at the mercy of evil instincts. Nor is witchcraft unequivocally antisocial;
suwa' ye is a common metaphor for extraordinary powers. Thus, white men may
be l ikened to witches because of their technological wizardry and remarkable mo
bi lity ( in ships and aircraft) , and legendary fgures such as Mande Sunj ata and
Yilkanani are sometimes said to have been witches because their powers were be
yond ordinary comprehension. Even more signifcant is the fact that Gbangbane
(or Gbangbe), the witch-hunter, is spoken of as a witch. This is how Saran Salia
Sano of Firawa described Gbangbe to me:
It is like the other sumfannu ("secret things"). When you are a boy, you try to imagine
what it is. You are told it kills people. You are afaid. But you also feel it is something
extraordinar, and want to see it. Then, when you are initiated, you see that i t is
a person-not an ordinary person, but a witch. Its witchcraft is greater than that of
a host of people [a suwa'ya mago siyam n k]. Gbangbe is a subingban ("rler of the
night"]. He is immune to all evil, and has the power to rob men of their shape-shifting
abilities. Gbangbe forces people to confess. He seizes their possessions. The person cries
out, "He's taken my things ! " and the kinsmen plead with Gbangbe not to destroy them
lest the person die.
I asked Saran Salia to clarif what he meant by "seizure" of a witch's "posses
sions , " since the word mirn can denote both material things and psychological
"self-possession. " Were people "seized" by terror when Gbangbe was out, or did
Gbangbe actually take their property and physically force them to confess? To the
Wester mind, always keen to discriminate between "psychic" and "physical" reali
ties, the question is crcial. To Saran Salia it seemed somewhat beside the point,
but he gave me a specifc example of what he meant.
The incident he described took place at Bandakarafaia six years earlier. It was
night, and Gbangbe was abroad in the village. Gbangbe stopped outside a house:
It seized this woman's headti e, shirt, and shoes. Inside the house, the woman started
strggling and shouting, "Gbangbe has got me! Gbangbe has got me! " [m' bi Gbangbe
bolo, "I am Gbangbe's hand in"). Her kinsmen gave Gbangbe Le. 12, two mats, and
ten kola nuts. Gbangbe said, "I have heard. " He gave back the headtie and shirt, but
not the shoes. The woman cried, "Give me the shoes. " Gbangbe gave them to her.
Then she shouted, "Soburi [hooray) , I' ve got them! " She became noral again.
"But were the clothes real?" I asked.
"They were like real ones, but they were witch's clothes. "
Seeing my perplexity, Saran Salia recounted another case. I t was the frst I' d
ever heard in which a man confessed to witchcraft.
It happened in Firawa telve years earlier. A man called Yimba Koroma be
came agitated and collapsed in his house one night while Gbangbe was out. O
this occasion, Gbangbe seized the man in his witch's clothes and also seized his
witch' s things (suwa' ya mirnnu) .
The man's clothes tightened around his neck; he felt strangled. He cried out to
Gbangbe, "Leave me alone, give me back my things ! " He confessed to having eaten
people's children. "I ate Yira, I ate Karifa and Yira. I ate them. Please give me back
my things [mirnnu] . " Gbangbe told him to name his other victims. "No, " he said, "I
won' t name anyone else. " That is why he was not forgiven. He was a member of a
night kere.
A kre is a labor cooperative (Jackson 1 977b: 8-1 1 ) ; it epitomizes the spirit of con
viviality and mutual aid in a community. Were witches in their night kre or coven
bound by the same ties of reciprocity as bound men in a faring kre?
"Yes, " Saran Salia said, "except witches j oin forces to take life, not make i t. "
In the company of women and children, men cultivate the fction that
The With a a Catgo an a a Peron 93
Gbangbane is a bush spirit, not a person. But Gbangbane is a person, as Saran Salia
observes, though not an ordinary person; he is a witch. Underlying this view is
the notion that the same wild powers that can destroy people can also protect
them. In short, suwa' ye is not j ust semantically ambiguous; it denotes an indetermi
nate power or faculty. And though this power of suwa' ye is in essence "wild" or
extrasocial , whether it becomes good or bad depends entirely on how it is harssed
o ued.
This pragmatist emphasis on contexts of use brings me to a consideration of
the analysis by Hallen and Sodipo of the Yoruba word aN, commonly translated
"witch. " On the basis of detailed comparative research, they argue that it is impos
sible to defne a universal category "witchcraft" that can cover without distortion
all the phenomena commonly brought under this rubric ( Hallen and Sodipo
I 986: chap. 3 ; Prince 1 970: 91 5 ) . Thus, while the Yoruba aN, the Kuranko suwage,
the Zande mngu, and the English witch all share some family resemblances, they
also connote quite divergent phenomena and personality types. This point is vitally
important. However, I do not go along with Hallen and Sodipo in construing this
problem as basically semantic, a problem of accurate translation. True, the difer
ence between Kuranko informants' stereotypes of witches and particular accounts
( l ike those of Saran Salia) correspond to the distinction Quine makes between
"standing sentences" and "observation sentences, " the frst being abstracted fom
immediate sensory experience, the second issuing fom specifc situations ( Hallen
and Sodipo 1 986: q) . 8 And it is imperative that we do not overlook the indetermi
nate relationship ( the "empirical slack, " the "evidential gap") between episteme
and experience, knowledge and event ( q, 4 1-42) . But I do not see why we should
want to overcome these discrepancies by defning our terms more precisely, trying
to make words and world coalesce and correspond. My own interpretive preference
is to consider not what words mean in essence, but what they are m to mean
in the contexts of everyday life. It isn't words we want to compare when we try
to understand the phenomenon we provisionally call "witchcraft , " but the exigen
cies of life, the events and experiences which the words are brought to bear upon.
I now propose to shift my focus to the level of event-actual confessions to
witchcraft-and explore the interplay of stereotypical ideas about witches and the
experiences of Kuranko women who confess to witchcraft.
T HE E V I DE NCE OF CON F E S S I ON
Within Afica, one can make a rough-and-ready distinction between accusation
oriented and confession-oriented societies, though in each society accusation and
confession may be emphasized diferently in diferent contexts ( Douglas 1 97ob:
xxxiv; Rue
!
1 970: 333 ; Wyllie 1 973= 74-75 ) .
O the Azande, Evans-Pritchard reported: " I have never known a Zande admit
his witchcraft" ( 1 972: 1 25 ) and "I have only received cases of confession fom one
Zande . . . perhaps the least reliable of my informants" ( 1 1 8) . By contrast, other
societies, most notably in West Afica, are characterized by a rarity or absence of
direct accusation and the presence of confession: Efutu (Wyllie 1 973 ) , Banyang
( Rue! 1 970) , Ashanti (Ward 1 956; Field r 96o) . Yet other African societies are not
able for the rarity of both direct accusation and confession: Oinka ( Lienhardt
1 95 1 ) , Mbugwe (Gray 1 969) . And some, such as the Korongo, "have no witchcraft
bel iefs at all" (Nadel 1 952 ) .
Among the Kuranko, confession, not accusation, i s the norm. 9 But the rare
and elusive character of these confessions, coupled with the fact that women usu
ally confess during terminal illness or are killed on account of what they confess,
makes it very diffcult to gain direct knowledge of the experiences of the Kuranko
women who own to being witches. The ethnographer is obliged to rely on hearsay
accounts of events that have often been half-forgotten, if not actively suppressed.
Particularly problematic are the manifest prej udices of Kuranko men when speaking
of women witches. Witchcraft epitomizes the worst in women, and men make
witches the scapegoats for their own anxieties about their vaunted autonomy and
strength. Indeed, their stereotypes of women as weak-willed, impulsive, and in
cl ined toward hysteria are sadly similar to those still current in the discourse of
many Wester men.
1 0
To understand the witch as a subj ect (pour-soi ) , to rehabilitate her as a person
in a society which reduces her to a negative category, is not unl ike the task contem
porary historians face writing about the consciousness of the colonized-their "cul
ture of si lence" ( Freire 1 972) . Nevertheless , as Ranaj it Guha so brilliantly shows
in his study of peasant insurgency in colonial India, it is possible to glean, from
the distorted discourse of the oppressor, fagmentary clues "to the antonymies
which speak for a rival consciousness" ( r 983 : q) . This is also our task.
Here, in summary form, are details of thirteen cases of witchcraft confession,
giving frst the relationship of the victim to the witch and then the background
and confessed reason for the witchcraft:
r . No relationship. Man confessed to G
b
angbe that he had "eaten" several chil
dren ( all male) . He died after confessing. (Case of Yimba Koroma of Firawa. ) Infor
mant: Saran Salia Sana, elderly man, Firawa, 1 979.
2. No victim. Woman "succumbed" to G
bangb
e but did not confess to witch
craft. Her kinsmen "begged" and paid Gbangbe; the woman recovered her senses.
( Case of woman from Bandakarafaia. ) Informant: Saran Salia Sana, Firawa, I 979
3 No relationship. A man, Fore Kande of Bandakarafaia, tested his witchcraft
against Saran Salia. Dying, he confessed: "I went abroad as a witch; I went and
saw his Kame; it killed me" (m' bora suwa' ye r; n' tar a r fen n' ya l Komeye;
wo l m'faga) ; i . e. , Saran Sal i a was immune to witchcraft attack, so the witchcraft
was tured back on Fore, who died. He'd never before shown animosity toward
Saran Salia. Informant: Saran Salia Sana, Firawa, I 979
4 Brother's daughter's son. Informant's grandson died suddenly. A local
woman was said to have confessed to killing him, but her kin hushed up her confes
sion. Informant: Bunda Mansaray, middle-aged man, Kamadugu Sukurela, 1 972.
5 Brother. Eight days after her brother's sudden death, a woman fell ill and
confessed she'd once asked her brother for rice and he'd refused her. After one
unsuccessful attempt on his life, she and other witches beat him up and killed hi m.
The With a a Catgo an a a Person 95
She was buried alive. Informant: Morowa Marah, young man, Kamadugu Sukurela,
I 970
6. Husband. Woman fell ill with chest and head pains; on her deathbed she
confessed that her husband had never liked her. Indeed, her husband blamed her
for the awful tropical ulcers on his foot. A diviner had told him "evil people"
(margo yugnu) were getting at him; he formerly cursed the evil -doer who, he sus
pected, was his own wife. Her frst husband had divorced her because of her "bad
behavior" ( son yugi ) . There were no children by the second marriage (four years ) .
After she died, her pulan came out and had t o be caught and dispatched. Infor
mant: husband, Ali Koroma, middle-aged man, Kamadugu Sukurela, I 972.
7 Husband; brother's son's wife. A child died suddenly. A few days later the
child' s father's sister fell seriously ill and confessed that she was responsible for the
child' s death. She owed her coven a child, but being childless, gave them the life
of her brother's grandson. She said she had "got her destiny through that child, "
i . e. , her sickness was a punishment for having killed him. When she entered her
brother's house to get the child, the house had been surrounded by fre from the
antiwitchcraft fetish sase; she'd been badly bured when leaving. She also con
fessed that when, many years earlier, her husband had accompanied a white man
into the Lora mountains to hunt elephants she had transformed herself into an
elephant and tried to kill him. She'd also prevented him from becoming chief.
Finally, she told how, when Gbangbe was abroad, she would assume the form of
a vulture or fy by plane and sit near the moon to evade detection. She would
take her co-witches with her in a back hamper, but one night Gbangbe came unex
pectedly and "seized" her hamper. Her co-witches, left stranded, cried out to her:
"Mam Yeri, sole war mintan d me tla minto?" ( "Grandmother Yeri, the hamper
is bured, where are we going to go?") When her confession had been heard, she
was taken from the house and left in the backyard to die. Informant: woman's
brother's grandson, Noah Marah, young man, Kabala, I 970.
8. Husband. Woman confessed to feeling resentful when her husband gave
more rice and meat from a sacrifce to her co-wives than to her. During terminal
illness , she confessed to trying to kill him by witchcraft, but his protective fetishes
tured the witchcraft back against her. After her death, her pulan came out, tur
ing food and water bad. Informant: woman's co-wife's son, Steven Marah, school
boy, Kabal a, I 970.
9 Husband; co-wife' s son. Woman confessed on her deathbed to ki lling her
husband by witchcraft and eating her co-wife' s son. My informant believed the
confession to have been mistaken; the woman never showed animosity to anyone.
Informant: woman's co-wife' s son, town chief at Fasewoia, I 970.
I o. Husband. During severe illness, a woman confessed that her husband had
refsed to have sex with her during her pregnancy. Humil iated, she hired a night
kere to beat him up; when the coven failed to fnd him it fell on her instead. She
delivered stillbor twins and died.
I I . Not specifed. A woman confessed on her deathbed that she was a witch
and named four associates. Gbangbane brought the four women before the chief' s
court; they were ordered to demonstrate their powers and prove they were witches.
They asked that some pawpaws and a lizard be brought; they were then locked
in a room. When they were let out of the room they told the elders to cut open
the pawpaws; they were seedless. They told the elders to examine the lizard; it
was dead. Each woman was fned a cow. Two of the cows were sacrifced and a
curse was put on the livers; the women were then obliged to eat the livers together
with raw rice four (dege) fom the sacrifce. Within a few weeks three of the women
died; the fourth, it was said, wasn' t a real witch: "she wasn't guilty of actually eating
anyone; she was a witch but did not practice witchcraft . " Informant: Keti Ferenke
Koroma, Kondembaia, 1 970.
1 2 . Brother's son. When a small boy di ed suddenly, a diviner was consulted;
witchcraft was diagnosed as the cause of death. The witch was cursed. Ten days
later the boy' s father's sister fell ill and confessed to having killed the child because
her brother refsed to give her rice. The woman was buried alive.
1 3 . Co-wife' s son' s son. A woman quarreled with her co-wife' s son's wife over
the sharing of some locust-seed cakes. Shortly afterard, her co-wife' s son's son
became ill and died. When the woman also fell ill she confessed to having killed
the child to get even with its mother. She died after confessing.
What is arresting about most of these cases is that there are so few allusions
to the stereotypical imagery of witchcraft. Covens and cannibalism are mentioned
in only four cases ( witches usually "kill" or "beat up" their victims ) ; animal familiars
and out-of-body travel in only one ( case 7) . Clearly, general beliefs about witchcraft
and the particular exeriences of self-confessed witches are seldom congruent. 1 1 Like
the Azande, the Kuranko "normally think of witchcraft quite impersonally and
apart from any particular witch or witches" ( Evans- Pritchard 1 972: 37) .
The stereotype of the witch i s , as I ' ve already observed, a logical inversion
of the stereotype of moral personhood. It encapsulates what Monica Wilson so
aptly called "the standardized nightmares of the group. " For the Kuranko, these
collective anxieties center on self-containment and protection. However, the use
of various obj ects or medicines, kanan li fannu ( "enclosing/protecting things") , to
magically seal of self, house, village, farm, and chiefdom refects more than a his
tory of actual invasions; it is an index of a quotidian problem: accommodating
strangers who may also be enemies. To divine the thoughts of a stranger/guest
(sundan) through the techniques of the Du cult or to disarm a visitor with gifts
is thus a counterpart to the use of protective medicines (Jackson 1 977b: s 7-6o) .
But perhaps the central focus of men's fears i s the fgure of the in-marrying woman.
The notion of a witch as someone within the household yet in league with ene
mies without ( her night kere) is grounded in the ambiguous social position of
young married women, legally bound to their husbands yet emotionally attached
to their natal families and "sisters. " Something of this ambiguity is suggested by
the phrases a man uses when giving his daughter in marriage to her husband' s
group: "Now we have come with your wife. She is your thief, your witch, your
daughter, your all. We have brought her to you alive, but even in death she will
remain your wife. " It is also worth pointing out that the animals most com-
The With a a Catgo an a a Person 97
monly associated with witches-palmbirds, l izards, toads, snakes , cats, vultures,
owls-are also structurally ambiguous: they are of the wi ld, yet often enter
and live within the village.
WI T C HC R AF T AN D K I N S H I P S T R E S S
To properly understand the sociogenesis of witchcraft confessions it is not enough
to speak of women solely as wives. Here is how Keti Ferenke Koroma explained
the sources of antagonism between men and women in everyday l ife:
You know, if you see women showing treachery (monkekoe) toward men it is because,
in this world, all men are in the hands of women. We say we are in the hands of women
because women gave us birth. In the beginning it might have been a good idea had
Alt/ declared that women lead and men follow. But women follow, because Altl
gave the power of leadership to men. We had nothing to do with that . . . .
Now, to know why we say women are not equals. It is because when a baby girl
is bor, it is a man who goes and pays bridewcalth for her. She becomes his wife,
subordinate t o him. But when women think of how they gave birth to us and raised
us, yet we pay bridewealth for them, they get angry. They use all manner of treachery
to rin us. For instance, if you have four wives and you call one to be wi th you for
three days, the other three will spend all their time thinking of ways to get even.
Women are treacherous because they want to control men. But this isn' t possible be
cause we pay bridewealth for them. And because they ate the forbidden frit. (Jackson
1 977b:88-89)
Apart from the light these remarks throw on Keti Ferenke's personal opinion
of women, they bring into relief two distinct ways of explaining women's inferior
ity. The frst is mythological; it invokes the disobedience of Mama Hawa (Eve ) ,
the frst woman, to explain why women are inntely weak-willed. The second is
sociological and stresses the complementarity of a woman' s role as wife and her
roles as mother and sister. The key to understanding this complementarity is
bridewealth. As a wife, a woman is subordinate to her husband and, if she is a
j unior wife, to his senior wife as well. Sinkari Yegbe, a middle-aged woman from
Kamadugu Sukurela, summed up this situation of double disadvantage as follows:
Men pay too much bridewealth for us . . . . It gives them control over us and the right
to order us about. You cannot cook unless your husband gives you rice. You cannot
go to market unless he tells you to go, and gives you money to spend. If you are a
junior wife, whatever you get frst goes to the senior wife. You cannot even wear clothes
without them frst going through her hands.
As a mother, however, a woman enjoys real control and infuence because the
fortunes of her chi ldren are entirely in her hands. "You are in your mother's hands"
(i i na l bolo), goes a popular song. Proverbial wisdom points out that "A man
has many children; a woman raises them; his children are in her hands" ( Ke l dn
si; mue don den; k l den wo bolo) . More ominously: "If a child fourishes or if
a child perishes, ask the mother the reason why. " As a sister, a woman also enj oys
some degree of control because her brother marries with bridewealth received fom
her marriage. In theory, this indebtedness entitles her to claim material and emo
tional support from her brother and curse him if he denies it.
Ordinarily, a woman's autonomy as sister or mother compensates her for her
lack of autonomy as a wife, especially a j unior wife. The resentments that nurture
witchcraft stem fom a loss of this balance, ei ther through gross unfairess on the
part of a husband or senior co-wife or neglect on the part of a brother. In four
of the cases cited, unj ust apportionment of food was the cause of resentment; in
two cases, conj ugal neglect. Understandably, the focus of witchcraft attack is either
a husband ( fve cases) or brother ( one case) or someone vulnerable and closely
related to them: a co-wife' s child (one case) or grandchild (one case) or a brother's
child (one case) or grandchild ( two cases) .
But while witchcraft can be seen as a stratagem for regaining a sense of auton
omy and control , it must also be seen as masochistic and suicidal. Why, one may
ask, don' t women explore less destructive ways of redressing inj ustices, appealing
to a senior woman ( the dimusukuntig) with powers to represent cases of male inj us
tices in the chiefs court, enlisting the help of the women's cult, Segere, or, in the
case of a brother's neglect, using the sister's power to curse? Or, if they feel hard
done by, why don't women do as Sinkari Yegbe advocates: voice their grievances
in stories that mock men, connive with their "sisters" to make trysts with other
men, or refuse to work and slave for their husbands? (Jackson 1 977b: I o2) .
To answer these questions, an analysis of kinship stress and women's roles is
not enough. Such factors condition women's experience but do not wholly explain
it. It is therefore necessary to consider the psychology of witchcraft confession in
more detai l.
T H E C OMP UL S I ON TO CON F E S S
Kuranko people endure the tribulations of life with a fortitude that many Wester
ers, conditioned to expect medical science to guarantee them long lives without
excessive sufering, might fnd unsettling. In the course of my feldwork I helped
sick people as much as my medical knowledge and supplies permitted. At frst, how
ever, it was usually I who sought people out, giving electrolyte solution to infants
with dysentery and chloromycetin to people sufering fom conj unctivitis, supervis
ing courses of antibiotics. Even when distressed by the worsening condition of a
child, parents showed no great interest in my medical resources. Afficted by pain
ful and debilitating diseases such as elephantiasis, encephalitis, malaria, and lep
rosy, men and women assented to my help rather than sought i t. As for their atti
tude toward sick kinsmen or friends, it was often, to my mind, apathetic and
perfunctory. In tao, you sufer, they would say in commiseration, then tum away.
12
But what I saw as stoicism and fatalism is less a form of self-denial than self
mastery. And self-mastery is nowhere more del iberately cultivated than in the rites
of initiation.
Initiation involves a whole battery of ordeals calculated to test the mettle of
neophytes. To stay awake in a smoke-flled room, lashed with switches , upbraided
Th With a a Categ an a a Person 99
and bullied by elders, to be tormented by tales of bush spirits and lethal medicines,
to have one's genitals cut and not wince or cry out, to undergo traumatic separation
from one's parents-all this to lear the sterest and most important lesson in l ife:
to endure pain, show forbearance, be masterfl i n the face of every adversity. "To
resist is hard ( ' not sweet' ) , " the saying goes, "but freedom (from trouble) comes
of it" (in sa r, a fo r di, koni lafere hyi I). Despite men's view that women control
their feelings and withstand hardship less well than they do, this theme pervades
both men's and women's initiations.
It is therefore understandable why Kuranko were indiferent to my medical in
tervention. To place themselves in my hands meant isolation from kin and from
the tried and tested world of their own medicines, most of which, it must be re
membered, have a protective and insulating function. It would entail forfeiting their
autonomy. A Kuranko adage sums up the dilemma: Margo ben t nyenne bolo komo
ko ( Better to be in the hands of a nyenne than in the hands of Kome). Bth nyenne
and Kome are bush spirits , but Kame is especially awesome and capricious. Thus,
the known is always preferable to the unknown, the famil iar to the foreign-better
the devil you know than the devil you don' t.
It isn' t only Kuranko who adopt this view. One encounters it often in our own
society when a seriously ill individual prefers to decide his or her own treatment
rather than submit to the impersonal and mystifing regimes of the medical system.
Sometimes the risk of death is to be preferred to the sacrifce of one' s autonomy
and dignity.
The seemingly fatalistic attitude of Kuranko in the face of misfortune refects
not a blind acceptance of sufering but an active recognition that it is an inevitable
part of life. Pain and sickness are not seen as aberrations from which one might
be saved. The insane and sick are never sequestered. Death is not denied. Nor
do people react to sufering with the outrage and impatience so fami l iar in our own
society-the tormented sense that one has been hard done by, that one deserves
better, that permanent health, unalloyed happiness, even immortality, might one
day be guaranteed as a civil right. In my experience, Kuranko people show l ittle
interest in an afterlife where one might escape the tribulations of this world and
yet retain one's mundane identity. To die alone, to be refsed decent burial , to
have one's lineage die out: such things are terrible, not one' s own extinction.
The focus, then, is on the feld of relationships of which one is a part, not
one's self per se. Accordingly, illness is seen as a disturbance in the feld of social
relationships ( which include ancestors, God, bush spirits, and witches) , not a re
sult of disease entities such as germs or viruses. Thus, if you behave badly or even
harbor ill will toward another person who is innocent o protected by medicines, then
the malice will react against you and make you ill. It will be said that the other
person's hake has "got out" on you (a hake ar bo) or that his hake "goes against
you" (a hake si bo i r) . To "set things straight" or "clear things up" ( the Kuranko
images are the same as ours) , you will have to beg forgiveness (k miyale ke) of
the person you have wronged or confess (k porondo) your ill will.
So pervasive is this notion of agentless, retributive j ustice (hake) that diviners
commonly advise confession as a way of making things well or "cool , " of clearing
or straightening the path between people. Indeed, it has the same redressive efect
as ofering a sacrifce to one's ancestors. And people often spontaneously confess
animosity to neighbors and friends in everyday life, speaking of the "pain" ( koe
dime) oppressing them. Or women wishing to forestall possible punishment for
adultery sometimes si t down with their husbands and unburden themselves with
such words as "M' buin, r be Fre lon; i hk kn n' to" ( "My husband, we and Fore
are [having an afair] ; may your hk not get out on me" ) .
But why i s the onus usually on women t o confess ? Why, when illness strikes
and diviners are consulted, are women blamed? And why, when Gbangbane is
abroad, do women fall prey to secret fears far more than men? The answer to these
questions lies in the contrast between the confned life of women and the public
life of men.
For the Kuranko it is a contrast between the house ( bon) and backyard (sunu
kunye r) , the domain of women, and the courtyard ( luiye) which opens onto the
vi llage, the domain of men. Women, they say, are encompassed by men as a house
is encompassed by luiye (Jackson 1 986: 1 30) . As a consequence, men go out,
women tur in upon themselves. While men seek the causes of discord in the world
around them, women search for the causes within. Men apportion blame, women
take the blame; men accuse, women confess.
But the pressures that bring a woman to fnd the cause of a child's death, a
husband's bad luck, barrenness, or family discord in her own thoughts an deeds are
not only social. Certainly the advice of a diviner, the carping of a husband or senior
co-wife, kinship stress , vi llage gossip, and the terrifing sound of Gbangbane mov
ing about in the night all work to erode a woman's confdence ( miran) . But the
precipitating cause of confession to witchcraft in over half the cases I col lected
was severe i llness, illness seen as punishment for unconfded sins.
It is this existential crisis, in which both social and personal autonomy is mo
mentarily lost, that I now want to consider.
" T HE L AS T F R E E D O M"
It may appear that Kuranko women are so conditioned to bear responsibility for
the misfortunes around them that they readily assent, when pressure is put upon
them, to serve as men's scapegoats. The self-confessed witch would seem to embody
this self-abnegation to an extreme degree: a victim of a world which denies her
any legitimate outlet for her frustrations and grievances. But such a conclusion only
recapitulates the prej udices of those Kuranko men who see women solely as a
category-for "witch, " "scapegoat, " and "victim" are all category words, and nega
tive ones at that.
For this reason it is important to recognize that witchcraft confession is also
a desperate stratagem for reclaiming autonomy in a hopeless situation. 1 1 This is
bore out by the allusions to witch-possessions (suwa' ya mirannu) in several cases
( mirn also means self-possession) , and, in other cases ( 7, 1 1 ) , by the defant atti
tudes of the women in the face of death. But even when such defance is not evi
dent, witchcraft confession can still be seen as a powerful form of self-expression
The With a a Catgo an a a Peron 101
in which words and images substitute for acts (Reik 1 966: 1 94, 1 99) . Confession
to witchcraft exemplifes what Victor Frankl calls "the last freedom"-that which
remains to us when exteral circumstances rob us of the power to act: the choice
of determining how we will construe our pl ight, the freedom to live it as though
it were our wi l l . It is the freedom Genet discovered as a child (Sartre 1 963 ) . Ac
cused of being a thief, he suddenly saw himself reduced to an obj ect for others,
a proj ection of their fears, a scapegoat for their anxieties. His escape was into nei
ther suicide nor insanity; it was a decision to become his fate, to live it as though
he himself had conceived it: "]' ai decided' etre ce qu l crime d fait d moi-un valur. "
As our evidence shows, the self-confessed witch does more than passively sub
mit to the succession of misfortunes that have overhelmed her. Nor does she
bl indly recapitulate the stereotypes men promulgate; rather, she actively uses them
to give voice to long-suppressed grievances and to cope with her sufering by declar
ing herself the author of it. 1 4 Thus , she determines how she will play out the role
which circumstance has thrust upon her. She dies deciding her own identity, seal
ing her own fate. 1 5
I t i s not enough for us to decide whether witchcraft i s a social pathology or
the individual witch a victim of some delusional psychosis, for our task is to throw
light on the l ived experience that lies behind the masks and facades of category
words-even those used by the self-confessed witch herself. Such an approach de
mands to know not whether a witch's death is "suicide" or "murder" but how that
death is lived. It seeks not to know whether hk is best translated as "guilt" or
"shame" or whether suwage is semantically equivalent to "witch, " but what experi
ences fnd expression in these words and how we might recover them. It is for this
reason that I have no sympathy with those anthropologists and philosophers who
debate endlessly over the rationality or irrationality of witchcraft beliefs. Bel iefs
have no reality apart from the people who make use of them, and to try to see
how beliefs co espond to some allegedly "obj ective" reality or how they cohre as
a so-called "system" seems to me far less edifing than trying to see what people
do with beliefs in coping with the exigencies of l ife. At this level , the bizarre appear
ance of Kuranko witchcraft images is less signifcant than the realities of human
distress that fnd expression through them-realities with which we can readily
identify.
1 6
SEVEN
The Man Who Could Tum into
an Elephant
From the very frst months of my feldwork among the Kuranko I was enthralled
by anecdotes and reports of human beings who were able to transform themselves
into animals. Such persons are known as yelam[entiginu ("change thing masters")
and are regarded wi th awe and ambivalence because in the form of predatory or
dangerous animals they can destroy the crops and kill the livestock of anyone they
begrudge or dislike. Shape-shifting is a form of witchcraft. It suggests faculties out
side the domain of secular activity and control. It conj ures up images of the dark,
trackless forests beyond human clearings and settlements-the domain of animal
ity, the antithesis of social order. But while shape-shifting is sometimes l ikened
to witchcraft, shape-shifters are not witches (suwagenu) . Witches are usually
women, the yelam[entiginu invariably men. While witches can transform them
selves into animals associated with darkness and menace in order to pursue their
nefarious ends, shape-shifters seem more often than not to transform themselves
into the totemic animal of their clan: respected creatures and metaphorical kins
men. And while witches are clandestine and abominated, shape-shifters sometimes
vaunt their powers and draw grudging admiration fom those who know of them.
Fr a long time my image of shape-shifters, like my image of wi tches, was con
ditioned by what Kuranko told me and by what I imagined, remembering nights
alone in the dark forests of my native New Zealand when the inexplicable crack
of a dead branch, the soughing of the wind, or an ominous shadow at the edge
of a clearing would make my heart race and bring to mind childhood tales of hob
goblins and genies. The forests and grasslands of norther Sierra Leone exercised
the same hold on my imagination, for was I not also an intruder there, prey to
secret misgivings, and alone? I saw how easy it would be, startled by the glimpse
of a sol itary fgure in the elephant grass or thorscrub in crepuscular light, to imag
ine one had seen someone in the process of changing from human to animal form.
Steeped in ideas about shape-shifting fom early childhood, one would be prone
to interpret such ambiguous images in this way. The idea of shape-shifting was bor
and bolstered, I assumed, in such moments of panic and by such tricks of the l ight,
much l ike UFOs in our own popular imagination. The problem was, however, that
this conj ecture left unexplained the absence of any skeptical attitude toward shape
shifting among the Kuranko with whom I discussed it. Furthermore, it became clear
to me that bel iefs about shape-shifting were not reducible to fugitive images and
Th Man Wo Coul Tum into an Elphnt 103
haphazard observations: they were conditioned by a complex of shared assumptions
and ideas which required careful ethnographic elucidation.
Kuranko conventional wisdom on the subj ect of shape-shifting can be readily
summarized. First, the ability to change from human to animal form is an inbor
or God-given endowment. It is not a skill that can be leared or a gift that can
be acquired. Second, shape-shifters can undergo metamorphosis only when alone
in the bush. Third, serious perils are associated with shape-shifting. If one sees
a man in the process of transformation one should not spread word of it around
or even admit what one has seen. One must suppress or deny the evidence of one's
own eyes-and the shape-shifter will implore a witness to do so-because public
exposure brings precipitous or premature death to the yelmfentigi. Another danger
comes from the possibility of being wounded or killed by a hunter while in animal
form. If a shape-shifter in animal guise is mortally wounded, he will always retur
to a vil lage or settlement in human form and die there. 1 Grave risks also attend
a shape-shifter who boasts of his powers. In the event of animals marauding live
stock or damaging crops , the self-confessed shape-shifter may be taken to court and
accused of sorcery.
A skeptic might regard these beliefs as self-protective rationalizations. If a
shape-shifter cannot change in the presence of others who are not themselves
shape-shifters, then no independent evidence of the phenomenon can be adduced.
If wi tnesses must forget or deny their accidental sightings lest they endanger the
life of the shape-shifter, then little direct evidence of the phenomenon will be
available. And if a mortally wounded shape-shifter cannot die half-man, half
animal , then no physical evidence of the process of transformation will ever be
seen.
Rather than pursue the problem of how these bel iefs may be j ustifed from our
point of view, I want to examine the grounds on which Kuranko accept them as
true.
First, one is confrmed in the bel iefs about shape-shifting because one's elders
hold them to be true. The bel iefs have the authority of custom (namui ) ; they are
a legacy of the ancestors , given in the words of the frst people (fol' morgan'
kumenu) and of the frst people's making (fol' morgonnu ko dne ) . Second, shape
shifting occurs in myths concering ancestral j oureys and clan origins, and such
myths, known as bimba kumenu ("ancestral words") or kuma kore ( "venerable
speech") , are held to be true. 2 Third, the Kuranko often cite hearsay evidence in
support of the bel iefs.
For example, in Firawa some years ago a man trapped a leopard which had
been marauding his sheep and goats. One night , however, the leopard broke out
of its cage and escaped, though not before wounding itself on the splintered bars.
The following day the man's half-brother was seen to be badly lacerated on the
face and arms. Since bad blood existed between the half-brothers (faennu) it was
assumed that the wounded man had been guilty of transforming himself into a
leopard-the totemic animal of the clan-and killing the other man's livestock.
Another example of shape-shifting was given to me by a young Kuranko man,
John Sisay, remembering an incident from his childhood when he had accompa-
1 04 pATHS TOWARD A CLEARING
nied an American missionary on a hunting trip near Yifn. The missionary and
the boy had been negotiating the banks of a river when the missionary's dog was
seized by a crocodile and dragged down into a deep hole. According to John, the
missionary then entered the water and disappeared beneath the surface, reappear
ing two hours later some distance upstream. That same day the missionary went
to the Yifn chief who, it was rumored, could transform himself into a crocodile,
and told him he had seen a populous town beneath the river and had retrieved
his dog there. The missionary then told the chief that he intended shooting croco
diles in the area and wared local shape-shifters that they risked their lives loitering
at the ford and attacking the l ivestock of traders crossing there. Although I argued
that John could have been confsed by what he saw at the river and been con
ned by the missionary who had simply been exploiting indigenous bel iefs to as
sert his authority over the local ruler, John dismissed any possibil ity of illusion
or lying. The beliefs did not rest upon his opinion or his particular experience;
they were common knowledge and others would j ust as readily attest to their
truth.
A fourth mode of indigenous evidence for shape-shifting is far from common
knowledge. It is derived from the apprenticeship of a besetg or medicine-master,
a specialist in healing medicine as well as lethal medicine and its antidotes. Such
specialist skills and knowledge are not usually divulged, and it was not until my
third feld trip, ten years after frst beginning research among the Kuranko, that
the elderly medicine-master, my close fiend Saran Salia Sano, agreed to impart
some of these skills and this knowledge to me. 3
As an initiatory test during a three-year apprenticeship in Guinea as a young
man, Saran Salia had been taken to a remote stretch of a river by his teacher.
His teacher had gone ahead of him and transfored himself into a snake. The
snake had then swum back downstream and wrapped itself around Saran Salia' s
leg, striking fear into his heart, a fear he had to master. Then the snake had
changed back into his teacher. Like John Sisay, Saran Salia was adamant that what
he had seen had not been a fgment of his imagination. 4
A ffth mode of ev: dence that the Kuranko adduce for shape-shifting is as rare
and privileged as the fourth: direct accounts by actual shape-shifters. For reasons
I have already given, shape-shifters seldom voice or confde their secrets, and it
was more a matter of luck than ethnographic dil igence that gave me the insights
I now wish to review.
A S H AP E - S H I F TE R ' S S TORY
It was my fourth feld trip to Sierra Leone, in October 1 979, and my encounter
with the self-styled shape-shifter took place ironically in the middle of Sierra
Leone' s largest city and at a time when I was more interested in relaxing after the
rigors of the feld than in pursuing ethnographic research.
I was staying with a Kuranko friend who was minister of energy and power.
Sewa had entered parliament two years before, in 1 977, standing as an independent
Th Man W Couk Tum into an Elphnt 105
candidate in Koinadugu South constituency and defeating the ofcial All People's
Congress candidate, who was minister of mines and a close fiend of the nation's
president. 5
During his campaign, Sewa had attracted several devoted followers and aco
lytes, among them a luckless and restive diamond miner named Mohammed
Ffona. Mohammed lived in Koidu in the Kono diamond district, but had come
to Freetown to settle some kind of account with the tax department. Like me, he
was enjoying the hospitality of Sewa's house during his stay in Freetown. He was
ffty-four, thickset, stalwart, and amenable. People called him Ffona Bigbel ly to
his face, a nickname he took no exception to. He knew about me long before we
actually met. A book of mine, Th Kurnk, had been bought up in large quantities
and used in the campaign to get Sewa elected into parliament; it was known as
the ferensol book, ferensol being the catchword at that time for Kuranko identity.
Mohammed regarded my anthropological research as signifcant and usefl , and he
was keen to fgure in any further publications I might produce.
Mohammed and I spent a lot of time together. He gave me a detailed account
of Sewa's political campaign, told me his own l ife-story, railed against corruption
in national politics, and helped me cross-check details of ruling genealogies fom
his natal chiefdom of Mongo Bendugu. One day I happened to ask him what the
totem of the Fofona clan was. 6
"Kamei, the elephant, " he said; "to eat elephant meat would make one's skin
disfgured. " Then he told me, "Some Fofona men can change into elephants , " and
added that he himself possessed that gift.
Given Mohammed's rather elephantine build, hi s claim amused as much as
intrigued me. I asked him to tell me more. Would it be possible for me to accom
pany him to an isolated place in the bush and observe him undergo the change?
When he changed, did he feel enlarged and powerful l ike an elephant, a change
in the way he experienced his own body rather than an actual physical metamor
phosis ? His replies were disheartening. The change would not be possible in my
presence, but yes he did actually undergo a physical metamorphosis. The power
was something he had been bor with; he had possessed it even as a child. It was,
he said, an inbor gift, i saan t I i bol ( "you bor it in your possession") , an
inner faculty, b' r koe ( "belly in thing") , a private matter, mago knt ke ( "per
son inner understanding") . It could only be discussed among and comprehended
by others having the same bent.
Although I acknowledged the reality of Mohammed' s experience of changing
into an elephant, I could not accept his ontologizing of the experience. Sincerity
or depth of experience are not proofs that the phenomenon experienced actually
exists. I argued with Mohammed that his experiences were open to other interpre
tations, by which, on refection, I guess I meant that they could be interpreted
my way. Such skepticism has its place in academic discourse; among the Kuranko
its social value is minimal. In efect, I was denying Mohammed's experience and
casting doubt on the Kuranko belief in shape-shifting. Not surprisingly, Moham
med and I soon dropped the subj ect fom our conversation, though not before he
106 PATHS TOWARD A CLEARI NG
gave me a general account of shape-shifting which repl icated ni cely the Kuranko
conventional wisdom with which I was already familiar.
I left Sierra Leone a few weeks later, notebooks flled with tantalizing notes
and images, interpretive conj ectures, but nothing conclusive. When I wrote about
shape-shifting during the next couple of years it was imaginatively and poetically,
not analytically. 7 Mindful that I had called Mohammed's experience and belief into
question, my fctional and empathic accounts of changing from human to animal
form perhaps constituted a kind of apology for the rude and subversive idioms of
anthropological discourse. But poems and fctions did not resolve the interpretive
issues that bothered me.
Then Foucault's work suggested a way out of the impasse. Rather than think
about shape-shifting in terms of such antinomies as true/false, real/illusory,
obj ective/subj ective, rational/irrational, I began to explore the grounds for the pos
sibility of the belief, the conditions under which the notion of shape-shifting could
be entertained as reasonable and made intelligible and, most important, realized,
as in Mohammed's case, a a sensible truth.
This entailed going beyond the j ustifcations which the Kuranko themselves
provided for the bel ief and examining aspects of Kuranko "subsidiary awareness"
which lay outside the feld of "focal awareness" already considered. 8 In particular,
it meant examining Kuranko ontology and aspects of Mohammed's biography.
ON TOL OGY OF S H AP E - S H I F T I NG
In the Kuranko world view it is axiomatic that persons exist only in relation to
one another. 9 The concept of morgoye, personhood, refects the ontological priority
of social relationships over individual identity. Although the word margo denotes
the living person, the empirical subj ect of speech, thought, wi ll, and action that
is recognized in all societies , the concept morgoye is at once more abstract and more
far reaching. Morgoye, personhood, connotes ideal qual ities of proper social rela
tionships, and the word can be variously translated as mindfulness of others , gener
osity of spirit, magnanimity, and altruism. However, unl ike the English word
personality, morgoye does not suggest notions of personal identity, distinctive
individual character, or autonomous moral being. Morgoye is a qual ity of being real
ized in social praxis rather than in personal style or appearance.
Another fundamental assumption i n the Kuranko world view i s that Being i s
not necessari ly l imited to human being. Thus , morgoye, though a quality of social
being, is not necessarily or merely found in relationships between persons. Put an
other way, the feld of social relationship may include ancestors, fetishes, bush spir
its, a divine creator, and totemic animals a well a persons. Morgoye, the quality
of moral being, may therefore be found in relations between people and ancestors,
people and Allah, people and bush spirits , people and totemic animals, and so on.
Indeed, in Kuranko clan myths i t is the totemic animal' s relationship with the clan
ancestor which expresses in exemplary form the moral ideal of personhood.
Here are three such myths.
10
The Man Wo Coul Tum into an Elphnt 107
Kuyate Clan-Monitor Lizard ( Kan or Kurumgbe) : We Kuyate do not eat the monitor
l izard. Our ancestor went to a faraway place. There was no water there. He became
thirsty and was near death. He found a huge tree. In the bole of the tree was some
water left fom the rains. The monitor lizard was also there. Our ancestor sat under
the tree. Then the monitor l izard cl imbed into the tree bole and out again and shook
its tail. The water splashed over our ancestor. He realized there was water there. He
got up and drank. He said, "Ah, the monitor l izard has saved my li fe! " When he re
tured to town he told his clanspeople about the incident. He said, "You see me here
now because of the monitor lizard. " Since that time the monitor l izard has been our
totem. If any Kuyate eats it his body will become marked and disfgured l ike the body
of the l izard. His clan joking-partners (sanakuie) will have to fnd medicines to cure
him.
Wulare Clan-Leopard ( Kuli ) : As our ancestor was leaving Mande he had to cross
a large river which was in flood. A leopard put our ancestor on his back and took
him across the river. Our ancestor said, "Henceforth no Wulare should injure or eat
the leopard. "
Togole and Tegere Clans-Bushfowl ( Wolei ) : The ancestors of the Togole and Tegere
were warriors. During the wars, times were so bad that they both went into hiding
to evade their enemies. One moring they were almost discovered and captured. They
had left their hiding place because their enemies were approaching. Their enemies saw
their footprints in the dewy grass. But just then a bushfowl came along the path. As
the enemies approached the hidden warriors the bushfowl jumped out in front of them.
The enemies said, "Heh, no one has passed this way; these are just bushfowl tracks. "
They went away. The two hidden warriors heard every word that had been spoken.
They vowed never to eat bushfowl again and to instruct their descendants never to
eat it. They placed a curse on the meat of the bushfowl. You wi ll not die if you eat
it but-because of that curse-your skin will become disfgured if you do so.
The qualities of moral personhood thus shift about within the Kuranko world,
sometimes attributed to persons, sometimes to animals, bush spirits , plants, and
even stones. Because personhood is distributed into the natural world and not fxed
within the margins of the village, it is plausible that a grass fetish speaks with moral
discerment, a bush spirit acts as an ally, a human being degenerates-as in the
case of a witch-into mere animality, and an animal is regarded as an ancestor
and kinsman. Such metamorphoses, familiar enough in the make-bel ieve world of
Kuranko folktales , assume special signifcance in the clan myths. Here the bond
of kinship ( nkelinyorgoye) said to exist between clansperson and clan totem be
comes more than a metaphor, a rhetorical image; it implies a real moral and physi
cal identifcation. If one eats the meat of one' s totemic animal one' s body takes
on the superfcial features of the animal . Eating one's totem is tantamount to "eat
ing oneself. " And, in the view of some Kuranko, the prohibition against killing
or eating one's totem is prompted by the perennial possibility that the animal one
eats may be an actual kinsman in animal form, i . e. , a shape-shifter from one' s own
clan.
From an intel lectualistic point of vi ew we would say that the totem is a symbol
of the clan, but if we are faithful to the more holistic reasoning of the Kuranko
we would have to acknowledge that the totem is the clan. Mind and body are one.
The moral bond between clansperson and clan totem is thus construed as an actual
physical identifcation and my be exerienced a such.
1 1
So far we have seen how the belief i n shape-shifting i s grounded i n Kuranko
ontology and world view and does not derive its plausibility solely or directly from
frsthand experience or hearsay accounts. Kuranko children grow up wi th folktales
in which shape-shifting is common and accept as true clan myths in which meta
morphosis occurs. Such a grounding infuences perception, makes hearsay reports
of shape-shifting seem reasonable, and disposes a person to interpret certain altered
states of consciousness in terms of shape-shifting.
Nevertheless, while all Kuranko share common ontological assumptions and
are conditioned by the same conventional wisdom, we cannot conclude that indi
vidual experience is entirely explicable in such terms. Lived experience is irreduc
ible; no matter how fervently and uncritically Kuranko espouse their conventional
bel iefs in shape-shifting, it is evident that diferent individuals experience and con
strue the beliefs in diferent ways.
Let us then retur to the case of Mohammed Fofona and ask why he, unlike
others grounded in the same world view, came to actually embody the idea of shape
shifting and realize it as an immediate, personal, and sensible experience. At this
point the sociology of knowledge exhausts its usefulness and we must tum to biogra
phy for our answers.
A S H A P E - S H I F T E R ' S S TORY CON T I N U E D
Mohammed was bor in 1 925 in Tumania ( Mongo Bendugu chiefdom, Koinadugu
district) in northwest Sierra Leone. In 1 942, when he was seventeen, he enlisted
in the army and saw active service in the Middle East and Europe. In 1 950 he
was demobbed and retured to Tumania.
Like other Kuranko men of his generation, Mohammed regarded military ser
vice as a kind of initiatory ordeal , a way to manhood directly comparable to the
traditional rites of initiation which were already on the wane. As he put it, "The
army gave discipl ine, made you a man, made you a real force. In those days a soldier
was l ike a white man in the vi llages; he commanded great respect. " But l ike many
other ex-soldiers, Mohammed found it hard to settle back into the routines of vi l
lage l ife. Neither his wartime experience nor the respect he was momentarily ac
corded on account of it compensated for the tedium of Tumania. Lacking any tradi
tional position of authority and any status in the British adminstration,
Mohammed drifted south into the diamond districts where the prospect of material
wealth ofered the possibility of power and renewed prestige.
From Lebanese diamond dealers in Kono, Mohammed hired the basic tools
of the prospector-pick, shovel , and sieve-and tried his luck. In the years that
followed he enj oyed sporadic success and built a mudbrick iron-roofed house in
Koidu and married. But more often than not he found himself struggling against
Th Man Wo Coul Tum into an Elphant 109
poverty and ill fortune, adversities not wholly attributable to his own failings or
the disapproval of the ancestors. Observing the nepotism and corruption that gov
ered the diamond business, Mohammed came to share the blighted view of many
Kuranko men, that their lack of personal prosperity was a consequence of their
political marginality. Even in 1 979 Mohammed retured time and again in our
conversations to the problem of corruption, of bribery and bias, exploitation and
cronyism, and stressed the need in Sierra Leone for radical political change.
In 1 977, when Sewa Bkari Marah bowed to popular Kuranko demand and
stood for election in Koinadugu South, 12 Mohammed at once saw the possibility
of an improvement in Kuranko pol itical fortunes and in his own luck; he enlisted
in Sewa's cause-the cause of ferenol-and actively campaigned for Sewa's elec
tion.
Sewa's electoral success came about through ironic and tragic circumstances.
Criticisms of corruption had been leveled against the sitting member of parliament
Kawusu Konteh for some time, but when he was impl icated in the murder of several
Kuranko villagers in Kurubonla and in the sacking of the vi llage, the president
was obliged to demand the withdrawal of his candidature and call an ofcial in
quiry. Sewa was elected unopposed. Two years later, Mohammed spoke to me of
Kawusu Konteh with undisguised contempt, remembering how the minister had
once tried to buy Mohammed's loyalty, kneeling before hi m, grasping his ankles,
begging him to sell Sewa out with an ofer of Le. s , ooo. "The money, " Mohammed
said, "would have soiled me. I refsed i t. "
Even this scant knowledge of Mohammed suggested to me in 1 979 that there
might be some connection between his boast of being able to transform himself
into a powerfl animal and his vaunted identifcation with a powerful political fg
ure. Mohammed admitted that shape-shifting gave him a sense of clandestine
power over others, and I could not resist relating this to his luckless, marginal situa
tion in life. Had he called upon familiar Kuranko bel iefs in metamorhosis to make
sense of an unfamil iar and unpredictable world, to express an existential longing
to regain control over his own destiny, to change his luck, to gain stature through
associating with a successful and charismatic peer? As a young man he had found
fulfllment in the army; did he now fnd the same vicarious satisfaction in the the
atre of national politics ?
Six years passed-years in which I lost contact with Mohammed yet continued
to ponder these questions and plan further research. When I fnally retured to
Sierra Leone in October 1 985 I made a trip to Koidu, where Mohammed was still
living.
I passed the best part of a day, enervated by the heat, trying to fnd him. Each
time I retured to the squalid quarter of mudbrick houses and rain-eroded laterite
lanes where Mohammed lived, I would ask for him by name in Krio. "Oh dat fat
pa, e don komot, " I would be told, or someone would yell into the gloomy interior
of a house and ask, "Fofona Bigbelly, e dae? " only to be told again that he had
gone out. I left messages-could he be told I was looking for him?-and described
the house across town where I was staying.
That evening he tured up. He was a changed man, tacitur, wary, and visibly
1 1 0 PATHS TOWARD A CLEARI NG
older. He showed l ittle enthusiasm for seeing me. Perhaps I too had changed,
haunted by memories of Pauline and happier ti mes, dispirited by news of the deaths
of Kuranko friends, oppressed by the poverty around me, and sufering from a loss
of faith in the authenticity of anthropological understanding. Yet I was determined
to ask the questions that had weighed on my mind for so long.
I ofered Mohammed a Coke and we sat opposite each other in the parlor,
our faces shadowy in the penumbra of a hurricane lamp. At frst we talked of the
political and economic crisis in the country. A petrol tanker had del ivered 420
gallons of petrol to Koidu that afteroon, and hundreds of people had mobbed the
Mobil pumps fghting to get a share of petrol only to fnd that through bribes, obl i
gations, and black-market deals most of the supply had been commi tted. Moham
med voiced a widespread pessimism: unless the president stepped down and elec
tions were called the country would collapse into anarchy.
After a while I asked him if he remembered confding in me six years earlier
that he could change into an elephant. He seemed suspicious and sl ightly embar
rassed, and disclaimed any such abi l ity. I reminded him of our conversation about
shape-shifting and asked why he had advertised a gift that other men would have
kept secret. Grudgingly he accepted what he had once said, then added, "We know
ourselves, we recognize only our own kind, we speak of these matters only among
those of l ike mind. " Shut out of experiences I had presumed to understand empath
ically, I suddenly real ized my presumptuousness. Six years was a long time, and
we were strangers.
In the event I pursued my questions anyway, and Mohammed answered them,
guardedly and always i n general terms, avoiding personal anecdote as i f he had
a canny grasp of the conventions of anthropological discourse.
Did he change by frst conj uring up an image of an elephant in his mind? "No, "
he said, "that i s not necessary. But you must have a purpose, such as destroying
someone' s crops. If someone ofends you and you cannot take your revenge by any
ordinary means you' ll walk ahead of that person in the bush, change, then fall
on him as he passes on his way back to his village. "
"Do people change into animals to get a sense of power?" I asked.
"Yes. "
"How long does the metamorphosis last ? "
"That depends-but usually no more than twelve hours . "
"Is i t diffcult t o remain an elephant all that time ?"
"No. "
I then asked Mohammed if he retained full consciousness during metamorpho
sis. "Yes , " he said, "because you must know to change back to human form. " He
reflected a moment. "But you must be alone in the bush to do it. "
Our conversation petered out. I was tired. I felt I was encroaching on
Mohammed's privacy, pressing him on matters he was reluctant to discuss but too
polite to dismiss out of hand. I had wanted to take up his allusions to sorcery,
to know whether his own shape-shifting was motivated by vengefulness, but it
would have been churlish to do so. I went along with his decision to couch personal
experiences i n general terms, and i n so doing was brought back to the impersonal
idioms and generalizing conventions of anthropology. Mohammed had become, so
to speak, l ike any average informant whose transitory, al ienated relationship with
the anthropologist can only generate pat answers and stereotypical views.
What had changed between October 1 979 when Mohammed confded in me
as an ally and October 1 985 when he talked to me as a mildly bored stranger!
The simple answer is that in 1 979 Mohammed wished to impress me. Six years
later, in quite another situation, he felt no such need. Nor was it only Mohammed
who had changed. My weariness and remoteness must have infuenced the course
of our conversation as much as his sense of my strangeness and skepticism.
The manner in which understanding is constituted intersubj ectively can be
studied ethnogaphically by observing indigenous social interaction, but it can also
be studied refexively by focusing on the ethnographic encounter itself. In this
context the l imits of understanding are often set by the human limitations of the
ethnographer and defned as much by his or her social relationships in the feld
or within the anthropological profession as by the methodology used and the theory
espoused. Indigenous understanding is no less tied to context, and j ust as my per
sonal ity and cultural bias and the exigencies of feldwork ground my ethnographic
knowledge, so too is Kuranko knowledge grounded in certain cultural assumptions
and personal interests, as the case of Mohammed shows.
The variety of ways in which shared beliefs are used, experienced, and es
poused makes it ftile to try to elucidate their essence under the rubric of such an
tinomies as rational versus irrational, true versus false, good versus bad. Rather,
we need to elucidate the place of bel iefs in the context of actual existence-how
they are experienced and employed, not what they may be said to register or repre
sent. Such a pragmatist perspective demands that we consider Kuranko shape
shifting in critical, historical, psychological, and cross-cultural terms.
T H E C R I T I CA L CON T E XT OF B E L I E F
Under ordinary circumstances Kuranko appear to acquiesce in traditional stereo
types of shape-shifting, treating them matter-of-factly, espousing them without par
ticular interest or fervor. Mohammed was an exception. In his case the beliefs were
embraced actively and enthusiastically; they were realized as lived, bodily experi
ence.
It is as though Kuranko beliefs in shape-shifting were ordinarily held in cold
storage, a stock of what William James dubbed "extra truths"-ideas salted away
in memory awaiting practical implementation during some crisis. 1 3 Mohammed
gave vitality to bel iefs which others held loosely, passively, and halfheartedly, re
alizing them with his whole being.
Such a shift from merely entertaining an idea to actually embodying it is usu
ally precipitated by some social or personal crisis that disrupts normal habits and
disconcerts normal awareness. Mohammed has sufered recurrent existential crises
in his life, an erosion of his sense of self-mastery and social worth that he has tried
to make good by call ing upon bel iefs in shape-shifting. As an elephant he is in
his element, empowered by a sense of ampl itude and control. But as with alcohol
and drug use in our society, Mohammed's clandestine gains are at the cost of social
integration. His vicarious mastery of the world entails ironically a separation fom
it, a marginality whose ambivalent images are those of solitude, sorcery, and the
bush. Like a neophyte who does not retur to his vi llage after initiation in the
bush, Mohammed's manhood fails to be realized socially. His power to shape-shift
thus condemns him to the very marginality he struggles to escape.
The situation brings to mind the Kuranko women discussed in the previous
chapter who confess to being witches during serious illness, calling upon the stereo
types of witchcraft to comprehend and cope with a crisis which erodes self-control
and subverts identity. As in the case of shape-shifters, the confession is socially
useful-it affrms the veracity of witchcraft bel iefs-but self-defeating, for unless
she dies of natural causes the self-confessed witch may be ritually killed.
T H E H I S TORI CA L CON TE XT OF B E L I E F
Let us reconsider a remark of Mohammed's concering the purpose of shape
shifting: "If someone ofends you and you cannot take your revenge by ordinary
means you' ll walk ahead of that person in the bush, change, then fall on him as
he passes on his way to his village. " Might not the sense of powerlessness and
vengefulness that makes a man seek to augment his strength or regain self- mastery
through shape-shifting arise from historical as well as personal crises ?
In souther Sierra Leone between the 1 86os and the early 1 900s the gover
ment of the Colony of Sierra Leone endeavored through legislation to put an end
to killings by so-called human leopard societies ( Beatty 1 9 1 5: I -I 4, Lindskog
1 954: 3, 6-7) . The societies were secret, ritually focused on powerfl medicines;
members gave the illusion of being leopards, hacking a victim to death with an
iron claw, leaving fake leopard prints on the ground, wearing leopard garb. But
details of recruitment, how victims were selected, of the interal structure and
practices of the societies, and their relationship to secular authority or "ofcial"
secret societies l ike Poro, are difcult to clarif (Lindskog 1 954: 43-46) .
Thanks to the painstaking scholarship of Birger Lindskog we know that similar
cults were widespread in Africa, though concentrated in the West Afican coastal
area and northeast Congo ( Lindskog 1 954: 5) . Explanations of the cults have in
voked notions of savage mentality, cannibalistic appetites, totemic fxations,
vengefulness and criminal conspiracy, and mindless obedience to cult leaders ( 59-
87 )-essentialistic notions that by reducing the cults to the status of savage other
ness deny the violent sitution in which those who voice such opinions conspire,
and deny the indigenous person recognition as a subj ect and maker of his own his
tory. Although colonial statutes and records insist that the leopard societies of
Sierra Leone were "formed for the purpose of murder and cannibal ism and existed
simply to gratif the depraved tastes of [their] members" ( 6o) , it is , in my view,
more edifing to see the cults as a response to sociopolitical deprivation, a form
of defance, negation, inversion, and revenge. 1 4 Although forms of ritualized rebel
lion such as sorcery, witchcraft, and cult activity were aspects of everyday life in
traditional Sierra Leonean societies, the colonial encounter seems to have given
these activities new impetus and purpose.
The swor secrecy of leopard-men and the fact that our knowledge of human
leopard societies comes from the records of administrators dedicated to the extirpa
tion of the phenomenon make it diffcult to grasp the indigenous point of view.
But, as Ranaj it Guha observes in his work on peasant insurgency in colonial India,
"The diffculty is perhaps less insurmountable than it seems to be at frst sight":
It is of course true that the reports, despatches, minutes, j udgements, laws, letters,
etc. in which policemen, soldiers , bureaucrats, landlords, usurers and others hostile
to insurgency register their sentiments, amount to a representation of their will. But
these documents do not get their content from that will alone, for the latter is predi
cated on another will-that of the insurgent. It should be possible therefore to read
the presence of a rebel consciousness as a necessary and perasive element within that
body of evidence. ( r 98J: r s )
This indeed proves to be the case with documents on counterinsurgency fom Si
erra Leone. In I 9I 5 , Tombo, a self-confessed member of a baboon society, on trial
for murder, observed that the obj ect of the society was "to be wealthy and influen
tial. "' 5 A similar point was made by Gbanna ( "The obj ect of the Society is to be
rich and to gain a big name and respect over every other person") while a third
defendant, Lebbi , noted that "The obj ect of the Society [was] to supply human
flesh to the Chiefs and to increase their influence and continue the chieftaincy
in their line" ( Kalous I 974= 93-4) . In another case heard in I 908-, Lamina told
a court that he had j oined the leopard society "in order to get riches. " The medi
cine used by the cult would make a "man strong and successful" ( I 04) . Writing
on "The Sierra Leone Cannibals" in I 9I 2 , Berry noted that the objects of the leop
ard society were "always material" and, according to native informants, a matter
of getting "one word [unanimous support ?] for the chief of the country, " or getting
"some blood to make the country cold, so that bad luck be taken away fom the
country, and they would all get plenty of money" ( I 91 2: 5 I ) . The medicine of the
society was thought to grant
supremacy over the white man, 1 6 in the white man not being able to fnd out what
was being done, and that the eating of human flesh would give power over the white
man. For, say they, the white men have more power than the black men; but in this
cannibalism you get some power so that when you do wrong you will not be found
out by the white man. (s I )
As Lindskog notes in summary, the medicine of the leopard society, bofm,
was "the dominant factor in measures directed against neighboring chiefdoms and,
in more modem times, even in securing allegiance to resistance, passive or other
wise, against the British goverment. Thus , the ritual sometimes served political
and xenophobic purposes" ( I 954: 6 I ) .
1 1 4 PATHS TOWARD A CLEARING
A more detailed account of the relationship between leopard societies and the
sociopolitical si tuation in souther Sierra Leone in the late nineteenth century
lends weight to the argument that the cults were forms of insurgency and rebellion.
Earliest reports of leopard societies date fom the period of the British annexation
of the independent Sherbro country after a dubious treaty was signed wi th some
local chiefs inducing cession of Sherbro to the British Crown ( Fyfe 1 962: 3o8-1 2 ) .
At the time, Sherbro Island and its hinterland were already politically troubled
areas. Tensions between the Sherbro and the dominant Mende, incursions of war
refugees-many from the hut tax rebell ions in Mende-and of immigrants fom
the interior seeking work, a high incidence of plundering and theft, recurrent wars
between coastal and hinterland chiefs for control of new trading enterprises, and
discontent among domestic slaves all contributed to this interal strife (Kalous
1 974: 1 -2; Alldridge 1 901 : s-7 ; Fyfe 1 962: 440) . Throughout the 1 87os and 1 88os
there was increasing resistance to the arbitrary powers of chiefs involved in the
slave trade, as well as resistance by chiefs to goverment laws banning slave trad
ing. 1 7 Native resentment of mission meddling in their religious practices , of tax
impositions, and of Creole traders whose land purchases and interference in local
politics often had mil itary backing frther deepened the crisis ( Beatty 1 9 1 5 : 86-87;
Kalous 1 974: 6-7; Fyfe 1 962: 298) .
Given this anomie situation i t i s impossible not t o interpret the phenomenon
of human leopard societies in sociopolitical terms. A concatenation of personal
grievances , political resentments, and economic frustrations found expression in
peripheral cults and practices that were already part of the traditional culture: Poro,
crocodile, and leopard miracle plays, shape-shifting, sorcery, and so on. Recruit
ment to the cults soon reflected social pressures and blackmail as much as individ
ual interest ( Kalous 1 974) . But while social and political forces underlay the growth
of the cults, they were in the end socially and politically disastrous. The victims
of the leopard-men were seldom the Creole traders, the whites, and the exploita
tive chiefs who oppressed the common people; 1 8 they were scapegoats from wi thin
the village world itself: children, young women, and members of the leopard-men' s
own families. The human leopards took out their grievances on their own social
body. The power they exercised came from the magical manipulation of conscious
ness, not from any program of political action. 1 9 Vilifed by traders and administra
tors as "bush people, " the leopard-men sought control over their own situation by
realizing the wildest imaginings and worst prej udices of their oppressors, but in the
end they were victims of their own rituals and of their own involuted and clandes
tine strategies.
P S YC H OL OG I CA L AN D CROS S - C U LTU R A L
CONT E X T OF B E L I E F
A cns1s or rupture in Mohammed's being-in-the-world throws him ( like the
Sherbro leopard-men of a hundred years ago) into a marginal situation. Call ing
upon images of liminal life from his own cultural background, he tries to make
good hi s loss of mastery and control. He changes into an elephant, augmenting
his fagging power and replenishing his strength. But as he real izes in his imagina
tion an ancestral totemic bond, he falls back upon primordial attachments to the
clan as family, as womb, and forfeits his social identifcations in the here an now.
The stratagem he uses to regain self-mastery is self-defeating. This is why the
Kuranko regard shape-shifting so ambivalently. As a solitary and clandestine activ
ity it calls the entire ontology of the group into question. It is, Kuranko say, a
kind of witchcraft, a pathology. But insofar as an individual shape-shifter embodies
and bears out many assumptions on which the Kuranko ethos is founded, he is
a kind of hero. His very existence demonstrates the distributive theory of Being,
proves the power of men to tap the powers of the wild, and affrms the moral bond
between clanspeople and their totemic animals.
But all this rests on a blurring of the distinction we would tend to make be
tween subj ectivity and obj ectivity, a habit of interpreting interior states as signs
of exteral events. Thus, while I was incl ined to see Mohammed's shape-shifting
as an altered state of consciousness, an intrapsychic event, Kuranko tend to
ontologize the experience and see it as a change in obj ective reality . 20 They speak
of it not as an inward change but as an exterior movement from town into the
solitude of the bush. In other words, the idiomatic Kuranko distinction between
vi llage and bush corresponds, as it were, to our cultural distinction between ordi
nary and extraordinary frames of awareness. Thi s tendency to exteriorize events
which we would assign to interiority explains why the Kuranko interpret memory
not as a mental trace of a past event but as a registration in the mind of an event
happening somewhere else (Jackson 1 986: 6) . It also explains why they interpret con
science ( hk) as residing in social relationships , not in the individual psyche (Jack
son 1 982a: 29-30) and regard the unconscious not as some profound level of the
mind but as a kind of penumbra in social space, the shadowy domain beyond the
perimeter of one's vi llage. It may be because Kuranko so often interpret changes
in experience as evidence of changes in the exteral world that many informants,
Mohammed among them, were so dismissive of my questions as to whether shape
shifters really changed or only thought they did. Perhaps the Kuranko are more prag
matic than most anthropologists: if illusions have real and useful consequences
then they are truths.
21
The foregoing account of Kuranko animism might easily give the impression
that Kuranko thought, in its concrete metamorphicality and pragmatism, is utterly
foreign to our own. But metamorphosis is a part of our cultural tradition, too-a
recurring metaphor fom Ovid to Ionesco of radical moral transformation. It i s,
moreover, a metaphor which fnds imaginative and bodily realization in the experi
ences of actual individuals. Fr instance, the split in Mohammed's l ife between
social and "wild" identifcations is echoed in Kafa's story of Gregor Samsa, who
"woke up one moring from unsettling dreams" and "found himself changed in his
bed into a monstrous vermin" ( ungeheueres Ungeziefer) .
Kafka del iberately chose to l iteralize the metaphor of Gregor as a bug, 22 to
allow it to be lived as an immediate, bodily reality in order to make us experience
1 1 6 PATHS TOWARD A CLEARING
the troubled relationship between Gregor's human consciousness and his buglike
body, a relationship which suggests Kafka's own estrangement from his family, his
struggle against the al ienating efect of fgurative language, his ambivalent feelings
about intimate relations, and his precarious existence as a Jewish writer outside
what he called "the house of life" (Corgold 1 973 ) . Adoro' s Notes on Kaf could
apply to Mohammed: the "individual and his social character are split . . . . The
self lives solely through transformation into otheress . . . . The boundary between
what is human and the world of things becomes blurred" ( 1 967: 255, 262) . 23
It is as if
Men turing into things, as comedy,
Stood, dressed in antic symbols, to display
The trth about themselves, having lost, as things ,
That power to conceal they had as men. . - .
( Wallace Stevens , "An Ordinary Evening in New Haven")
Like Mohammed, Gregor's creative withdrawal has an awful social cost. In the
end, reduced to the status of a thing, trapped inside his carapace and neglected
by his family, Gregor dies and Mr. and Mrs. Samsa, putting their anomalous son
from their minds , begin to look forard to their daughter's marriage-a social act,
"the confrmation of their new dreams. "
It is not, however, metamorphoses into animals that pervade the popular imag
ination of urban industrial societies but metamorphoses into machines, the most
thinglike objects of all. Just as images of were-animals are conditioned by the ubiq
uitous dialectic of village and bush in preindustrial societies, 24 so images of bionic
people, androids , and robots reflect the human/machine dialectic that shapes both
mental and bodily consciousness in industrial societies. This connection between
animal and machine images was bore home to me in 1 979 in the course of a con
versation with John Sisay, who, as a boy, had seen an American missionary change
into a crocodile near Yifan.
At the time my response to John's story was skeptical. I told him that I knew
of no Europeans who had the ability to shape-shift. His reply was categorical : "But
Europeans can transform themselves into airplanes ! "
I was suddenly reminded of an article by Bruno Bettelheim that appeared i n Sci
entifc American in 1 959, an account of an autistic boy called Joey who converted
himself into a machine. Trapped in this image of himself, he could not see him
self or act except in terms of it; he fnctioned as if by remote control. Joey's
machinel ike behavior was so devastatingly convincing that even his therapists
found it diffcult to respond to him as a human being. Joey lived the mechanistic
image as a literal and embodied truth:
During Joey's frst weeks with us we would watch absorbedly as this at once fragile
looking and imperious nine-year-old went about his mechanical existence. Entering
the dining room, for example, he would string an imaginary wire from his "energy
source"-an imaginar electric outlet-to the table. There he "insulated" himself with
paper napkins and fnally plugged himself in. Only then could Joey eat, for he frly
believed that the "current" ran his ingestive apparatus. So skillfl was the pantomime
that one had to look twice to be sure there was neither wire nor outlet nor plug. Chil
dren and members of our staf spontaneously avoided stepping on the "wires" for fear
of interrupting what seemed the source of his very life. ( I 959: I I 7)
It might be argued that Mohammed, like Joey, escapes into a delusional world,
shaped through bcolge "fom bits and pieces of the world at hand" ( I I 7 ) . In Joey's
case it is a world of mechanical devices, in Mohammed's case of totemic identifca
tions. But whether elephant or machine, these other selves , these borrowed bodies,
these second skins, assist a sense of adequacy, amplitude, and solidity in a painflly
unstable world. Mohammed speaks of the power he gains through shape-shifting.
Joey too: "Machines are better than the body, " he once told his teacher. "They
don't break" ( 1 20) .
There are, however, important diferences between Mohammed, Gregor, and
Joey which bear upon our interpretation of metamorphosis. First, the crises Joey
sufered in early life were far more devastating than those Mohammed complained
of. Bettelheim tells us that Joey was rej ected by his parents even before he was
bor. "I never knew I was pregnant, " his mother said. His birth "did not make
any diference . . . . I did not want to see or nurse him . . . . I had no feel ing of
actual dislike-I simply didn't want to take care of him" ( I I 8) .
I n the second place, Joey's sense of himself as a machine was absolute and ines
capable, unlike Mohammed's sense of himself as an elephant, which was occasional
and controlled. While Mohammed cultivated and embodied the Kuranko idea of
shape-shifting, it did not rule his life to the exclusion of everything else. As the
contrast between my conversations with him in I 979 and I 985 makes clear, Mo
hammed was not stuck with his bel ief. He embraced it opportunistically. His at
traction to shape-shifting was no more delusional than our desire for cars, yachts,
and houses-material envelopes that compensate us for our human frailty and mu
tabil ity in an intimidating world.
Finally, while Joey was clinically labeled "autistic" and "schizophrenic, " signi
fing his complete alienation fom social reality, Mohammed's shape-shifting was,
in his society, grudgingly accepted. Although it is in the Kuranko view a form of
witchcraft, it is also seen as a confrmation of basic moral assumptions, particularly
those enshrined in clan myths.
For these reasons we cannot label Mohammed-or Gregor Samsa-as mad and
deluded. Existentially, Mohammed remains, l ike most of us, more or less in control
of his own life, even if, l ike the leopard-men of yore, his stratagems are socially
limited and politically inefectual. The diferent modalities of Kuranko shape
shifting reveal a search for autonomy, meaning, and control in a world that often
appears unpredictable and ungraspable. It is a search we can readily identif with
despite the seemingly bizarre idioms of the Kuranko dialectic. Like human beings
everywhere, we often claim that what is true is that which corresponds to what
is proven, given, or real , but in our quotidian l ives we tend to act as pragmatists.
In crisis we make do wi th whatever is available in order to cope, and we j udge
the truth of whatever bel iefs we take up in terms of where they get us. As William
James put it:
Any idea upon which we can ride . . . that will carry us prosperously fom any part
of our experience to any other part, l inking things satisfactorily, working securel y, sim
plifing, saving labor, is tre for j ust so much, tre in so far forth, tre instmntUy.
( 1 978= 34)
EIG H T
Knowledge of the Body
There is always a risk in anthropology of treating the people we study as obj ects ,
mere means of advancing our intellectual goals. There is a similar discursive bias
in our customary attitudes to our own bodies: the Cartesian division between sub
j ect and obj ect also tends to assimilate the body to the same ontological category
as the obj ects of physical science. Against this view, Merleau-Ponty ( 1 962) argues
that the human body is itself a subj ect, and this "subj ect" is necessarily, not j ust
contingently, embodied. Moreover, if human beings difer from other organic and
inorganic beings , this is due not to their having some distinctive, nonbodily fea
tures, but rather to the distinctive character of their bodies. 1
Until I was in my mid-thirties , my awareness extended into my body only to
the extent that I grew hungry, experienced lust, felt pain or weariness, and did
not resemble the somatotype of popular advertising. My body passed into and out
of my awareness like a stranger; whole areas of my physical being and potentiality
were dead to me, l ike locked rooms.
When I took courses in hatha yoga ( under Iyengar-trained teachers) it was like
unpicking the locks of a cage. I began to live my body in full awareness for the
frst time, feeling the breath, under my conscious control , fll my lungs , experienc
ing through extensions and asanas the embodied character of my will and con
sciousness.
But this transformed awareness brought me up against the full force of habit,
of set attitudes and ingrained dispositions. It quickly became clear to me that
dystonic habits of body use cannot be changed by desiring to act in diferent ways.
The mind is not separate from the body, and it is pure superstition to think that
one can "straighten oneself out" by some kind of "psychical manipulation without
reference to the distortions of sensation and perception which are due to bad bodily
sets" ( Dewey 1 983: 27) . Habits cannot be changed at will because we are the habits;
"in any intell igible sense of the word wi ll, they are will" ( 25) . To change a body
of habits, physical or cultural , can never be a matter of wishful thinking and trying;
it depends on learing and practicing new techniques. In the language of F. M.
Alexander, whose work profoundly influenced John Dewey (Jones 1 976= 94-1 05 ) ,
it is a matter of displacing "end-gaining" with new "means-whereby" (Alexander
1 93 1 ) .
The practice of hatha yoga prompted me to couch the dialectic of givenness
and choice in terms of the relationship between bodily habits and intentions and
to explore the interplay of habitual body sets, patters of practical activity, and
forms of consciousness-the feld of what Mauss and Bourdieu call the hbitus.
However, my account here of creative "technologies of the self" ( Fucault and Sen
nett I 982: I o) will focus on culturally conditioned modes of consciousness and body
use. Only incidental attention will be given to the therapeutic and mystical aspects
of yogic and other techniques where ai lments are treated by teaching the body mus
culature to function diferently ( Tin bergen I 974: 2 I ) and mental equanimity is
induced through stability and suppleness of the body. 2
CULT UR E
If there is any one word which defnes the common ground of the social sciences
and humanities it is the word culture. But culture may be understood not only as
an abstract noun but in a verbal sense as well. And it not only covers a domain
of intellectual l ife; it also demarcates a feld of practical activity.
In its original usage, culture ( from the Latin colo) meant to inhabit a town
or district, to cultivate, tend, or till the land, to keep and breed animals, and gen
erally to look after one's livelihood "especially in its material aspects , " such as
clothing and adoring the body, caring for and attending to friends and family,
minding the gods , J and upholding custom through the cultivation of correct moral
and intellectual disciplines ( Oxord Ltin Dictionry I 969) .
I n tracing out the semantic history of culture we are, however, led further and
further away from these grounded notions of bodily activity in a social and material
environment. Throughout the late Middle Ages, culture was used increasingly to
refer to moral perfection and intellectual or artistic accomplishment; and from the
mid-ighteenth century, when German writers began to apply the term to human
societies and history, culture almost invariably designated the refned mental and
spiritual faculties which members of the European bourgeoisie imagined set them
apart from the allegedly brutish worlds of manual workers , peasants, and savages.
As Herbert Marcuse has shown, this kind of social demarcation inevitably gave
rise to an epistemological division whereby the spiritual world was "l ifted out of
its social context, making culture a (false) collective noun" as in the idea of "Ger
manic culture" or "Greek classical culture" ( Marcuse I 968: 94-95) . In this way, cul
ture was made to denote a realm of authentic spiritual values, realized through "the
idealist cult of inwardness" ( I 29) and radically opposed to the world of social utility
and material means. The individual soul was set of from and against the body,
and sensuality was spiritualized in notions of romantic love and religious adoration.
No longer pricked by conscience about the ways in which their enj oyment of so
called higher values depended upon the menial toil of the "lower orders , " the bour
geoisie denied both the sensual body and the material conditions on which its privi
lege rested. Exclusion of the body from discourse went along with the exclusion
of the masses from political life. 5
In I 87 I the English anthropologist Edward Tylor published his pioneering
work, Primitive Culture, borrowing the term culture from the German tradition but
defning it, after Gustav Klemm, in an apparently neutral way as "that complex
whole which includes knowledge, belief, art, law, morals , custom, and any other
Knowledge of the Bdy 1 2 1
capabilities and habits acquired by man as a member of society" (ci ted in Kroeber
and Kluckholn 1 963: 8 1 ) . Although culture was held to be a distinctive attribute
of all mankind, varing only in degree, the pejorative and historical connotations
of the word culture remained in vogue, and Tylor, l ike Klemm and Herder before
him, applied himself to the task of tracing out the progressive stages of social devel
opment in terms of the advance of scientifc rationality and technological control
over nature.
Taken up by American anthropologists as early as the 1 88os, the term culture
gradually lost its nineteenth-century glosses, and between 1 920 and 1 950 a new
demarcation function was assigned to it: culture defned the emergent properties
of mind and language which separated humans from animals. This view was already
implied in Kroeber's seminal 1 9 1 7 paper, "The Superorganic, " and is echoed in
Kroeber and Kluckholn's 1 952 review of the concept, where they defne culture
as "a set of attributes and products of human societies , and therewith of mankind,
which are extrasomatic and transmissible by mechanisms other than biological he
redity, and are as essentially lacking in sub-human species as they are characteristic
of the human species as it is aggregated in its societies" ( Kroeber and Kluckholn
1 963 : 284) .
I n recent years the paradigm has shifted again, partly through the impact of
sociobiology, and although culture is still defned as exogenetic it is not regarded
as exosomatic or considered apart from phylogeny. As John Tyler Bonner defnes
it in Th Evolution of Culture in Animls, culture is "the transfer of information by
behavioral means, most particularly by the process of teaching and learing"
( 1 980: 1 0) . Culture is, in this sense, a property of mny living organisms apart from
humans, and while cultural evolution can be contrasted with genetic evolution,
culture has a biogenetic base. 6 In the words of E. 0. Wi lson, "Aside from its in
volvement with language, which is truly unique, [culture] difers from animal tradi
tion only in degree" ( 1 975 : 1 68) .
Now, whether we consider the idealist traditions of the eighteenth and nine
teenth centuries which "etherealized"7 the body or anthropological defnitions of
culture which play up the conceptual and l inguistic characteristics of human social
existence to the exclusion of somatic and biological processes, we fnd that science
since the Enl ightenment has always been pervaded by the popular bourgeois con
ception of culture as something "superorganic, " a self-contained world of unique
qualities and manners divorced from the world of materiality and biology. 8 Culture
has thus served as a token to demarcate, separate, exclude, and deny, 9 and although
at diferent epochs the excluded "natural" category shifts about among peasants,
barbarians, workers, primitive people, women, 10 children, animals, and material
artifacts, 11 a persistent theme is the denial of the somatic, a scotomacizing of the
physical aspects of Being where our sense of separateness and distinction is most
readily blurred. 1
2
It is unfortunate that anthropology should have helped perpetuate the bour
geois myth of the superorganic; yet, when one considers that anthropology itself
belongs to a privi leged domain of activity-academe-and evolved as a by-product
of European colonialism, it is not hard to see how the exclusion of the body from
anthropological discourse is at the same time a defense against the unsettling knowl
edge that the very data on which that discourse depends are extracted fom agrarian
peoples for whom knowledge is nothing if not practical. To write prefaces to our
monographs, acknowledging the generosity of informants or the support of a de
voted spouse, is thus to gesture vacuously in the direction of a material truth which
the work itself usually denies because of its abstract style, the disembodied view
of culture it contains, and the privi leged world to which it is addressed and in
which it has value.
Thus, to bring back the body into discourse is inevitably related to questions
about the use-value of anthropology, and the problem of fnding some way of mak
ing our discourse consonant with the practices and interests of the peoples we
study. Throughout the 1 970s studies of body movement and body meaning ap
peared in increasing numbers, but analysis tended to be either overly symbolic and
semantic or, in the case of ethological studies, heavily mechanistic. tl Since the
semantic model has dominated anthropological studies of the body, it is this mode
of analysis which I will focus on here. My main contention will be that the "anthro
pology of the body" has been vitiated by a tendency to interpret embodied experi
ence in terms of cognitive and linguistic models of meaning.
T H E L ANGUAG E OF R E P R E S E NTAT I ON
The frst problem arises from the intellectualist tendency to regard body praxis as
secondary to verbal praxis. For example, Mary Douglas, while critical of the
"logocentric" bias in many studies of "non-verbal communication" whereby "speech
has been over-emphasised as the privileged means of human communication, and
the body neglected, " still asserts that "normally the physical channel supports and
agrees with the spoken one" ( 1 978: 8s) . This subj ugation of the bodily to the se
mantic is empirically untenable. In the frst place, from both phylogenetic and on
togenetic points of view, thinking and communicating through the body precede
and to a great extent always remain beyond speech. 1 4 This may be recognized in
the way our earliest memories are usually sensations or direct impressions rather
than words or ideas , and refer to situated yet not spoken events. 1 5 It is, moreover,
often the case that gestures and bodily habits belie what we put into words and
give away our unconscious dispositions, betraying character traits which our verbal
and conceptual habits keep us in ignorance of. 1 6 In therapies which focus on the
embodied personality and the bodily unconscious , such as hypnotherapy and
Reichian bioenergetic analysis, the "somatic mind" mediates understandings and
changes in which verbal consciousness plays little part. 1 7 In the second place, as
Ludwig Binswanger and Merleau-Ponty have argued, meaning should not be re
duced to a sign which, as it were, lies on a separate plane outside the immediate
domain of an act. For instance, when our familiar environment is suddenly dis
rupted we feel uprooted, we lose our footing, we are thrown, we collapse, we fal l .
But such fall ing, Binswanger says , is not "something metaphorical derived from
physical fall ing, " a mere manner of speaking; it is a shock and disorientation which
Knowldge of th Bdy 123
occurs simultaneously i n body and mind, and refers to a basic ontological structure
of our being- in-the-world ( Binswanger 1 963: 222-25; Reich 1 949: 435) . In this
sense, uprightness of posture may be said to defne a psychophysical relationship
with the world, so that to lose this position, this "standing, " is simultaneously a
bodily and intellectual loss of balance, a disturbance at the very center and ground
of our Being. 1 8 Metaphors of fall ing and disequil ibrium disclose this integral con
nection of the psychic and the physical; they do not express a concept in ters
of a bodily image.
Another way of showing that the meaning of body praxis is not always reduc
ible to cognitive and semantic operations is to note that body movements often
make sense without being intentional in the l inguistic sense: as communicating,
codifying, symbolizing, signifing thoughts or things that lie outside or anterior to
speech. 1 9 Thus , an understanding of a body movement does not invariably depend
on an elucidation of what the movement "stands for. " As David Best puts i t,
"Human movement does not symbol ise reality, it i s real ity" ( 1 978: 1 3 7 ) . 20 To treat
body praxis as necessarily being an efect of semantic causes is to treat the body
as a diminished version of itself. 2 1
The second problem in the anthropology of the body is a corollary of the frst.
Insofar as the body tends to be defned as a medium of expression or communica
tion, 22 it is not only reduced to the status of a sign; it is also made into an obj ect
of purely mental operations, a "thing" onto which social patters are proj ected.
Thus, Douglas speaks of the body as an "it"23 and examines how "in its role as an
image of society, the body's main scope is to express the relation of the individual
to the group" ( 1 978: 87) . As a result a Cartesian split is made which detaches the
knowing and speaking subj ect from the unknowing inert body. At the same time,
through a reifcation of the knowing subj ect, which is made synonymous with "soci
ety" or "the social body, " society is made to assume the active role of govering, uti
lizing, and charging with signifcance the physical bodies of individuals. 24 In this
view the human body is simply an obj ect of understanding or an instrument of the
rational mind, a kind of vehicle for the expression of a reifed social rationality. 25
This view is fallacious on epistemological grounds; it also contradicts our expe
rience of the l ived body, wherein no sense of the mind as causally prior can be
sustained and any notion of the body as an instrument of mind or of society is
absurd. Dewey dismisses this kind of dual ism by drawing attention to the "na
tural medium" in which bodies and minds exist equally:
In ultimate analysis the mystery that mind should use a body, or that a body should
have a mind, is like the mystery that a man cultivating plants should use the soi l ; or
that the soil which grows plants at all should grow those adapted to its own physico
chemical properties. . - .
Every "mind" that we are empirically acquainted with is found in connection wi th
some organized body. Every such body exists in a natural medium to which it sustains
some adaptive connection: plants to air, water, sun, and animals to these things and
also to plants. Without such connections, animals die; the "purest" mind would not
continue without them ( 1 929: 277-78) .
A third problem arises from the dualistic and reifed views on which I have
commented above. In many anthropological studies of the body, the body is re
garded as inert, passive, and static. Either the body is shown to be a neutral and
ideographic means of embodying ideas or it is dismembered so that the symbolic
value of its various parts in indigenous discourse can be enumerated. There seems
to be a dearth of studies of what Merleau-Ponty cal led the "body subj ect , " studies
of interactions and exchanges occurring within the feld of bodily existence rather
than resulting from mechanical rules or innate preprogramming.
My aim in the following pages is to outline a phenomenological approach to
body praxis. I hope to avoid naive subj ectivism by showing how human experience
is grounded in bodily movement within a social and material environment and by
examining at the level of event the interplay of habitual patters of body use and
conventional ideas about the world.
I N I T I AT I ON S AN D I M I TAT I ON S
In the dry season of 1 970 in norther Sierra Leone, not long after I had begun
feldwork in the Kuranko vil lage of Firawa, I was lucky enough to see the public
festivities associated with girls' initiation rites (dimusu biriye) . 26 Each night from
the veranda of the house where I was staying I would watch the girls performing
the graceful and energetic yatuiye and yamayili dances which presaged the end of
their childhood. With their hair specially braided and adored with snail-shell tog
gles , and wearing brightly colored beaded headbands, groups of girls passed from
house to house around the vi llage, dancing, clapping, and singing that their girl
hood days were almost over. The daylight hours too were crowded with activities.
Visitors poured into the vi llage, diviners were consulted to see what dangers might
lie in store for the girls during the operations, sacrifces were made to avert such
dangers, gifts were given to help defray expenses for those families whose daughters
were being initiated that year, and all the while the neophytes continued to circu
late around the village in the company of indefatigable drummers. Then, at dusk
on the day before the operations , the girls were led down to the river by older
women to be washed and dressed in long white gowns. That night they were se
questered in a special house and we did not see them. Nor in the moring, for
they were ushered away into the bush at frst l ight by the women to be made ready
for the operations. They remained in the bush, lodged in a makeshift house, for
three weeks, all the time receiving instruction from older women in domestic, sex
ual , and moral matters and waiting for the clitoridectomy scars to heal .
On the day the girls left the vi llage, I sat about with the other men, talking
and being entertained by groups of performers , mostly women and young girls , who
came by the house j ust as the neophytes had done in the days before. These per
formers fascinated me. A young girl , her body daubed with red and white ochres
and charcoal, stood before us with an immobile face. Another, wearing a man's
hat and gown and carrying a cutlass hilt down, held a pad of cloth clamped over
her mouth. When she and her companions moved on, another group took their
place: small boys who pranced around in mimicry of a comical fgure trussed in
Knowledge of th Bdy 125
grass, a "chimpanzee" which fell to the ground from time to time to be "revived"
by his fiends' urgent drumming. Then women performers danced before us too.
One was dressed in men's clothes with a wild fruit hung from a cord across her
forehead. She imitated the maladroit dance movements of men, her face expres
sionless, while other women surrounded her, clapping, singing, and laughing.
Other women had daubed their bodies with red and white clay and charcoal , and
painted symmetrical black lines under their eyes. They too danced awkwardly with
deadpan faces , some holding red fowers clenched between tight lips.
Three weeks passed and the girls retured to the village. More dancing took
place, and the mimicry of men was a recurring motif. Several young women
marched up and down shouldering old rifes, others had donned the coarse cloth
leggings and tasseled caps of hunters, while others pretended to be the praise
singers of the hunters and plucked the imaginary strings of a piece of stick signifing
a harp.
For as long as the festivities lasted I plied my feld assistant with endless ques
tions, always being given the same answers: that the performers were simply con
tributing to the enj oyment of the occasion, and doing what was customary during
initiations. Although diferent performers had names such as tatatie, komantere
("scapegrace") , kmban soiya ( "kamban soldiery") , forubandi binye ( the name of the
mossy grass in which the chimpanzee boy was trussed) , and sewulan ( wuln, red) ,
the names yielded me no clues to the meaning of the performances. Similarly, the
sung refrains which sometimes accompanied the dances were little more to me than
banal and obvious commentaries on the events. In my notebooks , among detailed
descriptions of what I saw, I listed searching questions which could not be phrased
in Kuranko, let alone answered, and the following self- interrogations, culled from
my feld notes of that time, now remind me of the fervor with which I sought clues
to hidden meanings:
These mask- l ike expressions-are they a way in which these girls strive to sympatheti
cally induce in their older sisters some measure of self-control ? Is this impassivity a
way in which they seek magically to countermand or neutralize the emotional turoi l
in the hearts of the neophytes ? These songs the women si ng, assuaging fear and urging
calm-are they ways in which the vil lage tries to cool "the bush" ? These girls in men's
clothes-do they want to assimi late something of men's fortitude and fearlessness, or
is this muddling of quotidian roles simply an expression of the confusion surrounding
this moment of mid-passage? And the chimpanzee boy, falling to the ground and lying
there utterly still before being roused by the drumming and resuming his dance-is
this an image of death and rebirth?
Some years later when I publ ished an account of the initiations I tried to an
swer these questions by making inordinate use of the slight exegesis which infor
mants had given me, decoding the ritual activities as if they were symbolic repre
sentations of unconscious concers. Determined, however, to be faithful to at least
one aspect of the ritual form-its nonlineal mosaicl ike character-! borrowed my
interpretative model from the structural study of myth, claiming that the initiations
could be seen as "a myth staged rather than spoken, acted out rather than voiced. "
Noting that "ritual meanings are not often verbalised and perhaps cannot be be
cause they surpass and confound language, " I nevertheless applied a method of
analysis that reduces "acts to words and gives objects a specifc vocabulary. " And
while admitting that "ritual often makes language redundant" and makes questions
superfuous , I proceeded to paraphrase the ritual movements and translate its ac
tions into words. 27
With hindsight, I now realize the absurdity of this analytical procedure. As
Bourdieu observes:
Rites, more than any other type of practice, serve to underl ine the mistake of enclosing
in concepts a logic made to dispense with concepts; of treating movements of the body
and practical manipulations as purely logical operations; of speaking of analogies and
homologies ( as one sometimes has to, in order to understand and to convey that under
standing) when all that is involved is the practical transference of incorporated, quasi
postural schemes. ( 1 977: r r 6)
In the frst place I failed t o take Kuranko comments at their face value and
accept that the performances I witnessed were "j ust for entertainment, " or, as my
feld assistant put i t, "for no other reason but to have everyone take part. " In the
second place I failed to accept that human beings do not necessarily act from opin
ions or employ epistemological criteria in fnding meaning for their actions. In
Remrks on Frzer' s Goln Bugh, Wittgenstein argues that Frazer was not war
ranted in assuming that primitive rituals are informed by erroneous conceptions
about the world, since "What makes the character of ritual action is not any view
or opinion, ei ther right or wrong" ( 1 979: 7 ) , though opinions and beliefs may of
course "belong to a rite. "28 Inasmuch as Kuranko ritual actions make sense to them
at the level of immediate experience and do not purport to be true in terms of
some systematic theory of knowledge, who are we to deny their emphasis on use
value and ask impertinent questions about veracity? It is probably the separateness
of the observer from the ritual acts which makes him think that the acts refer to
or require j ustifcation in a domain beyond their actual compass.
For these reasons it is imperative to explore further what Wittgenstein called
"the environment of a way of acting" and accept that understanding may be gained
through seeing and drawing attention to connections or "intermediary l inks"
within such an environment, rather than by explaining acts in terms of preceding
events , proj ected aims, unconscious concers , or precepts and rules. 29 After all,
I never thought to ask Kuranko farmers why they hoed the earth or broadcast grain;
neither did I interrogate women about the meaning of lighting a fre or the signif
cance of cooking or raising chi ldren. In my approach to initiation I was clearly
applying a distinction which the Kuranko themselves do not recognize: between
pragmatic "work" and "ritual" activity. Or, rather, I regarded the ludic elements
in the ritual performances as exactly comparable to theatrical and stage perfor
mances in my own society where actions are scripted, del iberately directed, and
variously interpreted. My bourgeois conception of culture as something "superor
ganic, " something separable from the quotidian world of bodily movements and
practical tasks , had led me to seek the script, the director, and the interpretation
Kowldge of the Bdy 127
i n a rite which had none. This quest for semantic truths also explained my inabi lity
to participate in the spirit of the performances and why I spent my time asking
people to tell me what was going on, what it all meant, as if the painted bodies
and mimetic dances were only the insipid remnants of what had perhaps once been
a symbolically coherent structure of myths and masks. Our longing for meaning
frequently assumes the form of a nostalgia for the traditional.
But to hold that every act signifes something is an extravagant form of abstrac
tion, so long as this implies that the action stands for something other than itself,
beyond the here and now. In anthropology this "something other" is usually a re
ifed category designated by such verbal tokens as "social sol idarity, " "functional
equilibrium, " "adaptive integration, " or "unconscious structure. "30
Many of these notions enter into the customary explanations which anthropol
ogists have given for the kinds of imitative practices I saw during the Kuranko initi
ations. Max Gluckman's account of ritual ized role reversals in the Zulu frst fruits
ceremony ( umkhosi wokweshwama) and Nomkhulbulwana ( "Heavenly princess") cult
stresses how these "protests" and "rebell ions" by normally subordinated women
"gave expression, in a reversed form, to the normal rightness of a particular kind
of social order" ( I 97o: u6; cf. I 963: u8) . Although Gluckman is wary of psycholo
gistic explanations, it is suggested that the periodic catharsis aforded by the Zulu
"rituals of rebell ion" helps maintain social solidarity and functional equil ibrium. 31
Edmund Leach emphasizes the relationship between role reversals and the ambigu
ous, liminal period during calendrical rites when, so to speak, time stands still and
behavior is not constrained by any conventional structure ( I 96I : I 32-36) . Giv
ing less emphasis to cathartic and satumalian aspects of sex-role reversal, Peter
Rigby has shown that among the Ugogo of Tanzani a, such calamities as drought,
barrenness in women, crop failure, and cattle disease are considered to be re
versals in fortune which can be mitigated by the manipulation of gender cate
gories. Thus , women dress as men, mimic male demeanor, and perform male
tasks in order to induce a re-reversal in correlative domains of natural ecology
( I 968: 1 72-73 ) +
These studies convey invaluable insights, and in writing my original account
of role reversals in Kuranko initiation I felt I had enough support from native exege
sis to advance an interpretation along simi lar l ines. But I have always had serious
misgivings about the way this sort of interpretation tends to exclude-because of
its focus on oblique aims, semantic meanings, and abstract fnctions-those very
particularities of body use which are the most conspicuous elements of the rites,
and refer not to a domain of discourse or bel ief but to an environment of practical
activity. What I now propose to do is work fom an account of how these mimetic
performances arise toward an account of wht they mean and why they occur,
without any a priori references to precepts, rules, or symbols.
T HE E N V I RON ME N T OF A WAY OF ACT I N G
Let us frst take up a problem posed by Franziska Boas in I 944: "What is the rela
tionship between the movements characteristic of a given dance, and the typical
gestures and postures in daily l ife of the very people who perform it?" ( Boas
I 944: 55) + 31
In the case of the mimetic performances I have described, every bodily element
can be seen in other felds of Kuranko social life as well. Thus, the women's un
canny imitations of male comportment are mingled with elements which are con
spicuous "borrowings" from mortuary ritual , e. g. , the miming, the deadpan faces,
and the cutlass held hilt down. Still other elements refer us to the bush: the boy's
imitation of the chimpanzee, the young men who pierce their cheeks with porcu
pine quills, the music of the praise-singer of the hunters (serewayili ) , the women's
mimicry of hunters , the bush ochres daubed on the body, and the wi ld fruit wor
by the Sewulan. 33 The following transpositions can therefore be recognized: from
male domain to female domain; from mortuary rites to initiation rites; fom bush
to vi llage.
The second crucial observation is that mimetic performers are women not im
mediately related to the neophytes. In this way they are like the women who, with
flat and doleful faces , perform at a man's funeral and mimic the way he walked,
danced, spoke, and moved. Often wives of the dead man's sons , these women simu
late grief and repining on behalf of the immediate bereaved, who play no part at
all in the public rites. We cannot, therefore, explain the mimetic performances
at initiations or fnerals in terms of individual interest or afect. Indeed, when I
suggested to Kuranko women that acting as men might be a way of venting their
resentment at men's power over them in everyday l ife, the women were bemused.
"Was the ' mad Kamban' (Kamban Yuwe) really insane ( yuwe) j ust because she be
haved in a crazy way? " I was asked, in reference to another woman performer who,
with distracted gestures, deadpan face, and male attire, j oined the Sewulan in the
fnal stages of the ritual.
The patters of body use wi th which I am concered are thus in a sense neutral
and are transposable from one domain to another. Moreover, the regular or con
ventional character of these bodi ly practices is not necessarily the result of obedi
ence to rules or conscious intentions but rather a consequence of ways peoples'
bodies are informed by habits instilled within a shared environment and articulated
as movements which are, to use Pierre Burdieu's phrase, "collectively orchestrated
without being the product of the orchestrating action of a conductor" ( 1 977: 72) .
These "transposable dispositions" arise in an environment of everyday practical
activities which Bourdieu calls the habitus. As Marcel Mauss and John Dewey have
also stressed, habits are interactional and tied to an environment of obj ects
others. 34 Forms of body use ("techniques du cos " ) are conditioned by our relation
ships with others, such as the way bodily dispositions which we come to regard
as "masculine" or "feminine" are encouraged and reinforced in us as mutually exclu
sive patters by our parents and peers. Or, patters of body use are ingrained
through our interactions with obj ects, such as the way that working at a desk or
with a machine imposes and reinforces postural sets which we come to regard as
belonging to sedentary white-collar workers and factory workers, respectively. Ac
cording to this view, collective representations such as those of gender and class
are always correlated with patters of body use generated within the hbi tu. 35
Knowldge of th Bdy 1 29
Moreover, stereotypical ideas and bodily habits tend to reinforce each other in ways
which remain "set" so long as the environment in which these attitudes are
grounded itself remains stable.
Nevertheless, the habitual or "set" relations between ideas, experiences, and
body practices may be broken. Thus , altered patters of body use may induce new
experiences and provoke new ideas , as when a regulation and steadying of the
breath induces tranquill ity of mind or a balanced pose bodies forth a sense of equa
nimity. Likewise, emotional and mental turmoil may induce corresponding
changes in bodily attitude, as when depression registers in a slumped posture or
grief is manifest in an absolute loss of muscle tonus. But it is the disruption of the
environment which mainly concers me here, and the way such disruption triggers
changes in bodily and mental disposition.
Kuranko initiation is frst and foremost a disruption in the hbitus, and it is
this, rather than any precept, rule, or stage management, that sets in train the
social and personal alterations whose visible bodily aspect is role reversal. My argu
ment is that this disruption in the hbi tu, wherein women enj oy a free run of the
village and men must fend for themselves ( even cooking their own meals) or stay
indoors like cowered women ( when the women's cult obj ect is paraded through
the village) , lays people open to possibilities of behavior which they embody but
ordinarily are not inclined to express. Furthermore, I believe that it is on the
strength of these extraordinary possibil ities that people control and recreate their
world, their habitus. 3
6
What then are these embodied yet latent possibilities which are real ized during
initiations ? Some, such as the grieving behaviors, are phylogenetically given. Oth
ers, such as the entranced and dissociated rocking of the mimetic dancers, suggest
a hypnotic element, the basis of which is a conditioned reflex whose origins are
probably intrauterine. 37 As for the basis of the sexual mimeticism, it is important
to point out that Kuranko children enj oy a free run of house and village space,
unconfned by the conventional rules that strictly separate male and female do
mains. At the level of bodily knowledge, manifest in sexually amorphous modes
of comportment, hair style and dress, prepubescent chi ldren are, as the Kuranko
themselves say, sexually indeterminate and "dirty. " The transformed habitus during
initiation simply reactivates these modes of comportment and opposite sex patters
deeply insti lled in the somatic unconscious.
Now to the question of why these particular possibilities are socially imple
mented and publicly played out. Let us frst consider the transposition of bodily
practices from domain to domain: male to female, funeral to initiatjn. bush to
vi llage. Here we fnd a parallel with those remarkable transpositions in nature
whereby various organisms assume or mimic features of other organisms in the same
habitat. 38 Just as this natural mimicry has survival value for a species, so it may
be supposed that the survival of Kuranko society depends on the creation of respon
sible adults through initiatory ordeals every bit as much as it depends upon the
physical birth of children. To create adults requires a concerted application of infor
mation from thrughout the envirnment; it requires tapping the vital energies of the
natural world, 39 "capturing" such "male" virtues as fortitude and bravery, and imi-
rating the chimpanzee mother's alleged rej ection of her ofspring or the feigned
indiference of public mourers at a funeral , both of which remind women of how
they must endure their daughters' separation in order for the girls to become inde
pendent women themselves. 40 We can therefore postulate that initiation ritual
maximizes the information available in the total environment in order to ensure
the accomplishment of its vital task: creating adults and thereby recreating the so
cial order. This process does not necessarily involve verbal or conceptual knowl
edge; rather, we might say that people are informed by and give form to a hbitus
which only an uninformed outside observer would take to be an object of knowl
edge. 41 Kuranko intentionality is thus less of a conceptual willing than a bodily
in-tension, a stretching out, a habitual disposition toward the world. 42 Initiation
rites involve a "practical mimesis"43 in which are bodied forth and recombined ele
ments from several domains, yet without script, sayings , promptings, conscious
purposes, or even emotions. No notion of "copying" can explain the naturalness
with which the mimetic features appear. Women performers do not, as it were,
observe men's behavior in piecemeal fashion and then self-consciously put these
observations together in an "act"; rather, this behavior is generated by an innate
and embodied principle which only requires an altered environment to "catch on"
and come into play. This innate principle is , of course, the mimetic faculty itself,
though, as we have seen, it is always an environment of culturl practices which
endows it with its specifc expression. 4
The way in which initiation opens up and allows the enactment of possibilities
which would not normally be entertained has also to be seen from an existential
viewpoint since, as Harvey Sarles notes, it is through attunement "and interaction
with other bodies [that] one gains a sense of oneself and the exteral world"
( 1 975: 3o) . Although everybody is informed by common predispositions , it is the
individual alone who bodies forth these predispositions as mimetic plays. 45 Insofar
as they permi t each individual to play an active part in a proj ect which efectively
recreates the world, initiation rites maximize participation as well as information,
allowing each person to discover in his or her own personal ity a way of producing,
out of the momentary chaos, something which will contribute to a renewal of the
social order. In this process, each person makes the world himself or herself out
of elements which ordinarily are not considered appropriate for him or her to use,
e. g. , women wearing the clothes and carrying the weapons of men. Yet, curiously
enough, the principle of sexual complementarity in Kuranko society can be viable
only if Kuranko men and women periodically re-cognize the other in themselves
and see themselves in the other. Mimeticism, which is based upon a bodily aware
ness of the other in oneself, thus assists in bringing into rel ief a reciprocity of view
points. 4
6
As to why it is the same social order which is created over and over again,
we must remember that the Kuranko hbitus constrains behavior, and that when
the bodily unconscious is addressed openly it answers with forms and features which
refect a closed social universe. Thus the creative freedom and interpretative li
cense in mimetic play are always circumscribed by the hbitus in which people have
been raised. Freedom must therefore be seen as a matter of realizing and experienc
ing one's potential within this given universe, not above or beyond it.
Knowldge of the Bdy 1 3 1
Let us now tum to a second kind of transposition, in which patters of body
use engender mental images and instill moral qualities. Most of us are familiar with
the way decontraction of muscular "sets" and the freeing of energies bound up in
habitual deformations of posture or movement produce an altered sense of self, in
particular a dissolution of those conceptual "sets" such as role, gender, and status
which customarily defne our social identity. H My argument is that the distinctive
modes of body use during initiation tend to throw up images in the mind whose
form is most immediately determined by the patter of body use. This is not to
say that all mental forms should be reduced to bodily practices; rather, that within
the unitary feld of body-mind-hbitus it is possible to intervene and efect changes
from any one of these points. By approaching cognition in this manner we are able
to enter the domain of words and symbols by the back door, so to speak, and show
that what the Kuranko themselves say about initiation can be correlated at every
tum with what is done with the body.
Apart from the examples already mentioned in which facial impassivity is cor
related with such moral qualities as the control of emotion and the acceptance
of separation, other instances can be cited of bodily praxis inducing or suggesting
ethical ideas. Thus, the value of moderation is inculcated through taboos on calling
for food or referring to food while in the initiation lodge, the fafei. The interdiction
on the neophytes' speaking out of tum, moving, or crying out during the operations
is directly connected to the virtues of keeping secrets, promises, and oaths and
of forbearance and circumspection. 48 Simi larly, the importance placed on l istening
to elders during the period of sequestration in the bush is correlated with the virtue
of respecting elders whose counsels guarantee social as well as physical life, a corre
lation pointed up by such adages as sie tol l to ("long life comes from attending"}
and si ban tal sa ( "short life ear has not") . Again, the sleepless night ( kinyale) which
initiates must endure in a smoke-flled house on the eve of their retur from the
bush after initiation is a way of instilling in them the virtues of withstanding hard
ship and being alert, while the enforced confnement is connected to the value
placed on self-restraint and self-containment. Other senses are developed too, so
that keenness of smell is correlated with the quality of discrimination ( newly initi
ated boys often quite literally "tum up their noses" at the sight of uninitiated kids ,
remarking their crude smell} , and control of the eyes is connected with sexual pro
prieties, most notably mindfulness of those domains and secret obj ects associated
with the other sex which one may not see except on pain of death. Finally, the
donning of new clothes suggests in the initiate's mind the assumption of a new
status , while the women's imitations of men are sometimes explained similarly as
a way women take on "male" virtues of fortitude and bravery which they feel they
sorely lack. 49
These examples indicate how, in Kuranko initiation, what is done with the
body is the ground of what is thought and said. From an existential point of view
we could say that the bodily practices mediate a personal realization of social val
ues, an immediate grasp of general precepts as sensible truths. Such a view is consis
tent with the African tendency to efect understanding through bodily techniques,
to proceed through bodily awareness to verbal skills and ethical views. 5 0 Bodily self-
mastery is thus everywhere the basis for social and intellectual mastery. The pri
macy given to embodied over verbal understanding is readily seen in a conversation
I had with the Kuranko elder Saran Salia Sano about male initiation.
"Even when they are cutting the foreskin you must not flinch, " Saran Salia
said. "You have to stand stockstill. You must not make a sound from the mouth.
Better to die than to wince or blink or cry out ! "
"But what kind of instruction is given? " I asked.
"To respect your elders , not to be arrogant, that is all. Disrespectful boys are
beaten. A pl iable stick is flicked against the side of your face or ear if you begin
to doze. In the fafei you get tamed properly. "
I t is not surprising to fnd such an emphasis on bodily praxis i n a preliterate
society where most practical learing is a matter of direct observation and "presti
gious imitation. "5 1 This emphasis on embodied knowledge and "kinaesthetic lear
ing"51 may explain why failures to uphold ethical expectations are usually seen by
the Kuranko in bodily terms: as leading to physical weakening, disease, or death.
Furthermore, it is because bodily praxis in initiation imparts knowledge directly
that the Kuranko do not need to formulate the meaning of the rite in terms of
abstract verbal elaborations or moral concepts. 53 The fact is that knowledge is di
rectly l inked to the production of food and community and the relationship be
tween thought, language, and activity is intrinsically closer in a preliterate subsis
tence society than in a moder literate society where knowledge is often abstracted
and held aloof from the domains of bodily skills and material processes of produc
tion. It is noteworthy that when the Kuranko d supply verbal exegesis it tends
to center on root metaphors which refer to bodily and practical activity in the
habitus. Thus, initiation is said to be a process of taming ( unruly emotions and
bodies) , of molding (clay) , of making dry or cool ( as in cooking, smoking, and
curing) , of ripening ( as of grain and fruit) , of strengthening ( the heart) , hardening
or straightening ( the body) , of getting "new sense" ( hankili kur) . 54 These allusions
to domestic and agricultural life are not mere fgures of speech, for they disclose
real connections between personal maturity and the abil ity to provide food for and
give support to others. Bodily and moral domains are fused, and, as the Kuranko
say, maturity is a matter of common sense, which is achieved when inner thoughts
are consistent with spoken words and exteral actions.
Let us now take up the question why ritual action should accord such primacy
to bodily techniques. In the frst place, bodily movements can sometimes do more
than words can say. In this sense techniques of the body may be compared with
musical techniques, since both transport us from the quotidian world of verbal dis
tinctions and categorical separations into a world where boundaries are blurred and
experience transformed. Dance and music move us to participate in a world beyond
our accustomed roles and to recognize ourselves as members of a community, a
common body. This is not to say that music and bodily practices are never means
of making social distinctions; 55 only that, within the context of communal rites,
music and movement often take the form of oppositional practices which ecl ipse
speech and nullif the divisions which dominate everyday life. The Kuranko say
that music and dance are "sweet"; they loosen and lighten, by contrast with normal
Knowldge of th By 1
33
behavior which is contractual , binding, and constrained. 56 In this way, movement
and music promote a sense of levity and openness in both body and mind and make
possible an empathic understanding of others, a fellow-feeling, which verbal and
cognitive forms ordinarily inhibit. 5 7 But such a reciprocity of viewpoints is often
experienced bodily before it is apprehended in the mind, as in the case of mimetic
practices in which one literally adopts the position or dons the clothing of another.
Merleau- Ponty puts it this way:
The communication or comprehension of gestures comes about through the reciprocity
of my intentions and the gestures of others, of my gestures and intentions discerible
in the conduct of other people. It is as if the other person's intention inhabited my
body and mine his. . . . There is a mutual confrmation between myself and others.
. . . The act by which I lend myself to the spectacle must be recognized as irreducible
to anything else. I join it in a kind of blind recognition which precedes the intellectual
working out and clarifcation of the meaning. ( 1 962: I 85)
In Kuranko initiation, the women's imitations of men presumably promote a
sense of what it is to be man. Yet, inasmuch as these body practices are not pre
ceded by any verbal defnition of intention, they are ambiguous. The imitations
are therefore open to interpretation, and the meaning they may assume for ei ther
performer or observer is indeterminate. This indeterminacy is of the essence, and
it is perfectly possible that the imitations will be experienced or seen variously as
a way of "borrowing" male virtue, a kind of mockery of men, an inept copying
that only goes to show that women could never really occupy the roles of men,
a rebellious expropriation of male privileges , or even as a marker that men are tem
porarily "dead. " This ambiguity, and the fact that the interpretations which do
arise tend to confound everyday proprieties of gender and role, may account for
Kuranko women' s silence on the question of meaning: the imitations mean every
thing and nothing. By the same token, the anthropologist who seeks to reduce
bodily praxis to the terms of verbal discourse runs the risk of falsifing both ( cf.
Bourdieu 1 977: 1 20, 223 note 40) . Practical understanding can do without con
cepts, and as Bourdieu points out,
the language of the body . . . is incomparably more ambiguous and overdetermined
than the most overdetermined uses of ordinary language . . . . Words, however charged
with connotation, limit the range of choices and render difcult or impossible, and
in any case explicit and therefore "falsifable, " the relations which the language of the
body suggests. ( 1 20)
It is because actions speak louder an more ambiguously than words that they
are more likely to lead us to common truths; not semantic truths, established by
others at other times, but experiential truths which seem to issue from within our
own Being when we break the momentum of the discursive mind or throw ourselves
into some collective activity in which we each fnd our own meaning yet at the
same time sustain the impression of having a common cause and giving common
consent. 58
1
3
L I GHT I NG A F I R E
My main argument has been against undue abstraction in ethnographic analysis.
Against the tendencies to explain human behavior in terms of l inguistic models,
patters of social organization, institutions or roles, structures of the mind, or sym
bolic meaning, I have endeavored to advance a grounded view which begins with
interactions and movements of people in an organized environment and considers
in detail the patters of body praxis which arise therein.
My focus on the embodied character of lived experience in the hitu also
refects a conviction that anthropological analysis should be consonant with indige
nous understandings which, in preliterate societies , are fequently embedded in
practices (doings) rather than spelled out in abstract ideas ( sayings) . Although such
a consonance is , for me, a fundamental measure of adequacy in ethnographic inter
pretation, I do not think that interpretation necessarily consists in fnding agee
ment between our verbal reactions to observed practices and the exegesis which
may be provided by the practitioners. Inasmuch as bodily praxis cannot be reduced
to semantics, bodily practices are always open to interpretation; they are not in
themselves intepretations of anything.
If we construe anthropological understanding as principally a language game
in which semiotic values are assigned to bodily practices , then we can be sure that
in the measure that the people we study make nothing of their practices outside
of a living, we will make anything of them within reason. But if we take anthropo
logical understanding to be frst and foremost a way of acquiring social and practical
skills without any a priori assumptions about their signifcance or function, then
a diferent kind of knowledge follows. By avoiding the solipsism and ethno
centricism that pervade much symbolic analysis, an empathic understanding may
be bodied forth. Let me elaborate by considering the relationship between theoreti
cal knowledge and feldwork practices.
When I frst lived in a Kuranko village I used to light my own fre to boil water
for drinking or bathing. But I regarded such a mundane chore as having little bear
ing on my research work, and my way of building a fre was careless and wastefl
of wood. It was a task to get done quickly so that I could get on with what I took
to be more important things. Villagers j oked about my fre-l ighting but did not criti
cize or censure me, which was remarkable considering the scarcity of frewood and
the time consumed in gathering it. Then one day, for no reason at all, I observed
how Kuranko women kindled a fre and tended it, and I began to imitate their
technique, which involved carefl placement of the frestones, never using more
than three lengths of split wood at one time, laying each piece carefully between
the frestones, and gently pushing them into the fre as the ends bured away.
When I took pains to make a fre in this way I found myself suddenly aware of
the intelligence of the technique, which maximized the scarce frewood ( which
women have to split and tote fom up to a mile and a half away) , produced exactly
the amount of heat required for cooking, and enabled instant control of the fame.
This "practical mimesis" aforded me insight into how people economized both fel
and human energy; it made me see the close kinship between economy of efort
Knowldge of th Bdy 1
3
5
and grace of movement; it made me realize the common sense which informs even
the most elementary tasks in a Kuranko village.
Many of my most valued insights into Kuranko social life have followed from
comparable cultivation and imitation of practical skills: hoeing on a farm, dancing
( as one body) , lighting a kerosene lanter properly, weaving a mat , consulting a
diviner. To break the habit of using a linear communicational model for under
standing bodily praxis, it is necessary to adopt a methodological strategy of j oining
in without ulterior motive and literally putting oneself in the place of other per
sons: inhabiting their world. Participation thus becomes an end in itselP9 rather
than a means of gathering closely observed data which will be subj ect to interpreta
tion elsewhere after the event.
George Devereux has shown that one' s personality inevitably colors the char
acter of one's observations and that the "royal road to an authentic, rather than
fctitious, obj ectivity" is perforce the way of infoed subj ectivity ( 1 967: xvi-xvii ) .
In my view, subj ective determinations are as much somatic as psychological in
character. Thus, to stand aside from the action, take up a point of view, and ask
endless questions as I did during the female initiations led only to a spurious under
standing and increased the phenomenological problem of how I could know the
experience of the other. 6 By contrast, to participate bodily in everyday practical
tasks was a creative technique which often helped me grasp the sense of an activity
by using my body as others did. This technique also helped me break my habit
of seeking truth at the level of disembodied concepts and decontextualized sayings.
To recognize the embodiedness of our being-in-the-world is to discover a common
ground where self and other are one, for by using one's body in the same way as
others in the same environment one fnds oneself informed by an understanding
which may then be interpreted according to one's own custom or bent, yet which
remains grounded in a feld of practical activity and thereby remains consonant
with the experience of those among whom one has lived.
While words and concepts distinguish and divide, bodiliness unites and forms
the grounds of an empathic, even a universal , understanding. That may be why
the body so often takes the place of speech and ecl ipses thought in rituals, such
as Kuranko initiation, whose point is the creation of community. The practical
and embodied nature of Kuranko thought is thus to be seen as an ethical prefer
ence, not a mark of primitiveness or speculative failure.
S Y M B OL S
Much of what I have said in this chapter implies a critique of the "intel lectualist"
approach to symbolism. A symbol was originally a token of identity, "a half coin
carried away by each of the two parties to an agreement as a pledge of their good
faith" ( Boagey 1 977: 4o) .
6
1
To bring the two halves of the token back together, to
make them "tally, " confrmed a person's identity as part of a social relationship.
The meaning of a symbol thus implied a presence and an absence; something al
ways had to be brought from elsewhere to make the symbol complete, to round
out its signifcance.
For Freud, the absent element was a past event or unresolved trauma. A symbol
was essentially and by defnition an efect of some hidden or repressed psychic cause
(Needleman 1 975: 6o-83) . For many symbolic anthropologists, the same reduc
tionist notion of a symbol obtains, except that the determining reality is social
rather than psychic. In both cases, the meaning of a symbol is taken to reside in
some predetermined essence rather than in the contexts and consequences of its
use. Moreover, the complete understanding of the symbol does not reside in what
the people who use it say or do; it depends on an expert's bringing meaning to
it or reveal ing the meaning behind it.
My objection to this way of thinking about symbols is that it departs radically
from the original sense of symbol , which implied contemporaneity and equivalence
between an obj ect or event and the idea associated with it. It ranks the idea over
the event or obj ect, while privileging the expert who deciphers the idea even
though he or she may be quite unable to use the obj ect or participate in the "sym
bolic" event. In short, I obj ect to the notion that one aspect of a symbol is prior
to or foundational to the other.
In particular, my argument is against speaking of bodily behavior as symbol iz
ing ideas conceived independently of it. In my view, utterances and body move
ments betoken the continuity of body-mind, and it is misleading to see the body
as simply a representation of a prior idea or implicit cultural patter. Persons ac
tively body forth the world; their bodies are not passively shaped by or made to
ft the world's purposes. As Merleau- Ponty puts it, "Consciousness is in the frst
place not a matter of 'I think that' but of 'I can' " ( 1 962: 1 3 7 ) .
NINE
Thinking throu gh the Body
The subj ect of this chapter is a mode of thinking, speaking, and acting in which
personal , social, and natural aspects of Being are made to correspond and coalesce. 1
This analogical mode of understanding is pervasive in all human societies, and it
is my intention to use examples from both ethnography and poetry to explore one
particular set of metaphorical correspondences which l ink personal , social , and
natural bodies.
Let me frst establish the domain of inquiry by adducing some specifc examples
of this kind of metaphorical correlation of person and world.
In the Hippocratic book on the number seven, there is a seven-part map which
represents the earth as a human body: the Peloponnesus is its head, the Isthmus
its spinal cord, and Ionia its diaphragm, "the navel of the world. " The moral and
intel lectual qualities of the peoples inhabiting these regions were thought to be
in some way dependent upon these local izations (Cassirer 1 955: 92 ) . This image
of the universe also fnds expression in the Greek Stoic philosophers who argued
that the world was an animate and rational being. Such a view led to detailed cor
respondences being traced out between Man and Nature, and the frst-century
Roman phi losopher and statesman Seneca declared that Nature was l ike the body
of Man, watercourses corresponding to veins, geological substances to fesh, earth
quakes to convulsions , and so on. 2 This view, which persists throughout lafe antrq
uity and informs the hermetic tradition of Medieval and Renaissance Europe, has
a corollary in the notion that correspondences exist between the human body and
the state. This organic model of the body politic fnds its way through Menenius
and Plutarch into Shakespeare's plays3 and continues to flourish as a root metaphor
in positivist sociology ( Brockbank 1 976: 38) .
Traditional Chinese philosophy is similarly concered with these symbolic cor
relations between the personal body and the body of the world. The conception
of a world-organism, a resonant whole in which everything was mutually depen
dent, pervaded all branches of Chinese art and learing; it was also the basis of
divinatory systems such as the I Ching (Needham 1 978: 1 64) . As Philip Rawson
notes, "the Chinese regard the inner and outer worlds of experience as having iden
tical systems of physiology, " and the aim of Chinese medicine and mysticism is
to keep the two systems working in congruence, attuned one to the other ( Rawson
1 968: 23 1 ) . The close analogy drawn between the body of man and the body of
the earth is perfectly illustrated in Chinese watercolor landscapes. Replete with
sexual imagery, the paintings depict mountains as metaphors of yang, heaven, the
bright, while the valleys with their effuent mists are images of yin, earth, the shad
owy. From one to the other fow the fertilizing waters of heaven, in streams and
waterfalls ( 256) .
Comparable notions abound in Hindu scriptures. In the Chandogya Upani
shad (V, xvi i i ) the universal self is
the bri lliant [sky] , its eye is [the sun) which possesses every form, its breath is [the
wind) whose nature is to follow various paths, its body is broad [space] , its bladder
is the wealth [of water] , its feet are the earth, its breast is the sacrifcial altar, its hair
is the sacrifcial straw, its heart is the householder's fre, its mind is the souther sacrif
cial fre and its mouth is the easter sacrifcial fre. ( Zaehner 1 966) .
I n Vedic hymns all living things, including the sun, the moon, and the air, are
created from parts of the body of purusha, a man ofered up in sacrifce by the gods.
And social groupings have the same bodily origin: "The Brahmin was his mouth,
his arms were made the Raj anya [warrior] , his two thighs the Vaisya [trader and
agriculturalist] , from his feet the Sudra [servile class] was bor" (Thomas
I 92 3 : I 22) . In Tantric philosophy too the macrocosm is thought to be contained
within the microcosm of the human body, and the Tantric map of the universe
employs sexual imagery to mediate the union of Shiva and Shakti ( male and female
principles) , Self and World. Controlled movement of energy in the feld of the
body ( through ritual intercourse, worship, pilgrimage, and prayer) becomes a
means of resonating with and re-cognizing the ultimate ground of all Being
( Bharavi 1 965 ) . As in all schools of yoga, the body is "the epitome of the universe, "
and biological and psychological life processes are seen as a microcosm of the world
process ( Dasgupta and Mukhopadhyay 1 962: 230) .
Rather than multiply examples of this kind of synecdochism, 4 let us now con
sider in detail two specifc cases of thinking through the body, one from poetry
and one from ethnography, both of which focus on similar correspondences be
tween particular bodily actions and particular landscape features.
These are the opening verses of Dylan Thomas's poem, "In the White Giant's
Thigh" ( 1 950) :
Through throats where many rivers meet, the curlews cry,
Under the conceiving moon, on the high chalk hi ll,
And there thi s night I walk in the white giant's thigh
Where barren as boulders women lie longing still.
To labour and love though they lay down long ago.
Through throats where many rivers meet, the women pray,
Pleading in the waded bay for the seed to fow
Though the names on their weed grown stones are rained away,
And alone in the night's eteral, curving act
Thinking thrugh t Bdy
They year with tongues of curlews for the unconceived
And immemorial sons of the cudgelling, hacked
Hi l l .
139
In these lines the human body is assimilated to the landscape, and the sexual
and geomorphological images of the poem have exact parallels in the world views
already referred to. The confuence of several rivers is likened to the throat or the
cervix, a bay to the womb, a chalk hillside to the thigh, while fecundity and poetic
fuency alike are linked to phases of the moon, tides in the bay, and seasonal
rhythms of the weather and of animal life. Physiological , meteorological, geograph
ical, and poetical processes are all condensed into unifing images whose ambiguity
is expressed semantically by such key phrases as "conceiving moon" and "curving
act. "5 As Thomas puts it later in the poem: "All birds and beasts of the linked
night uproar and chime . . . . "
Let us now tum from this "most bodily universe" ( Miles 1 948: 448) of Thomas's
poem and consider an ethnographic analogue of it.
Two hundred miles north of San Francisco, the Redwood Highway enters a
region of evergreen forest, sea fog, and mountain rain and, j ust before it reaches
the Oregon border, crosses the estuary of the Klamath River, the traditional center
of the Yurok Indian world. The Yurok conceived of their world as a great disk,
divided by the Klamath River and surrounded by the sea. Yet they took no interest
in whence the river came or in the ocean beyond the river's mouth. Their cultural
and economic life was concentrated on the river itself and on the annual salmon
run which supplied enough food for the entire year. The river was both the source
of their livelihood and the focus of their cultural existence, and in the Yurok world
view, ideas pertaining to the river and its environs, to the salmon and its biology,
and to human physiology and anatomy were coalesced. Thus, the periodic affuence
of the wateray had "a functional interrelation with the periodicity of vital j uices
in the body's nutritional , circulatory, and procreative systems , " and the main con
cer of Yurok magical activity was to ensure "that vital channels be kept open and
that antagonistic fuids be kept apart" ( Erikson 1 943: 258) .
This Yurok theory of correspondence i s vividly illustrated by an anecdote told
by Erik Erikson, who worked among the Yurok during the 1 930s. When he frst
arrived on the Klamath, Erikson met an elderly female healer who treated somatic
disorders and did psychotherapy with children. Erikson discovered that the princi
ples of Yurok therapy were not unl ike the principles of psychoanalysis, and he began
to "exchange notes" with the old woman. But he noticed that, despite her willing
ness to talk, she seemed melancholy and withdrawn. It soon become apparent that
her gloominess stemmed from an incident some days before when she had stepped
out into her vegetable garden and, glancing down the hundred-foot slope to where
the Klamath enters the Pacifc, had seen a small whale enter the river's mouth,
play about a little, and then disappear. Since the Creator (Wohpekumeu, "the wid
ower across the ocean") had decreed that only salmon, sturgeon, and similar fsh
should cross the freshwater barrier, the episode portended that the world disk was
slowly tilting from the horizontal, that saltwater was entering the river, and that
a flood was approaching which might destroy all mankind. However, the old
woman's anxieties went deeper than this and reflected the very nature of her pro
fession as a healer.
A healer must have superb control over the oral-nutritional canal because he
or she has to suck the "pains" fom a patient's body and then, having swallowed
two or three of these "pains, " vomit them up. The "pains" are visualized as sl imy,
bloody stuf resembling tadpoles, and the healer i s able t o vomit them up without
bringing up food as well. In preparing for such a heal ing session, a healer must
abstain from drinking water because water and the bloody substances extracted
from the patient's body are mutually antagonistic. The same reasoning explains
why, after eating venison-a "bloody" meat-one should wipe one's hands clean
and not wash them in water. The underlying principle is that contrasted fluids such
as blood and water, semen and water, or urine and water should never meet in
the same aperture or channel . Thus, salmon, which are water-bor, must be kept
away from the house of a menstruating woman; money, which originates in another
"stream, " must not be brought into association with sexual intercourse; a person
must never urinate in the river; and oral sex is banned because cunnil ingus prevents
money flowing and interferes with the salmon run in the Klamath. All such inap
propriate conj unctions are thought to lead to impoverishment and weakening of
both people and the natural environment.
We can now understand how the saltwater whale entering the freshwater
stream signals a more general disturbance of the geographical-anatomical environ
ment. Something alien and inedible enters the mouth of the river, which only
edible things like salmon and sturgeon should enter. This suggests an inversion
of the oral scheme of things in which control of the mouth is fundamental to social
and ethical integration. It is because the Yurok healer is preeminently a master
of oral-nutritional processes-sucking, vomiting, avoiding the use of "dirty" words
-that such an inversion afects the healer more deeply than others and requires
his or her skills to redress the ecological imbalance. This may explain why, when
the old woman saw the whale in the mouth of the river, her frst reaction was
to keep quiet about it, possibly hoping that by so controll ing her mouth she might
induce some change in the exteral world.
In both Yurok cosmogony and the poem by Dylan Thomas the world of things
is merged with the world of Bing, and as a consequence "things" l ike stones, hill
sides, and whales assume the status of "signs" whose decipherment mediates under
standing and action in the human world. This corporeal and sensible way of "read
ing" what the world means presupposes a continuity between language, knowledge,
and bodily praxis , a view which is characteristic of preliterate societies where
knowledge and speech cannot be readily abstracted from contexts of practical activ
ity. 6 It is because, in such societies, knowledge is articulated in skills, formulae,
and routines upon which physical livelihood directly depends that it is "logical" for
prel iterate peoples to emphasize the embodied character of knowledge and speech,
as when the Dagon equate word and seed or speak of the ripe millet being "preg-
Thinking thrugh the Bdy 1 41
nant" ( Calame-Griaule 1 965: 28) . 7 Metaphor here i s situated. I t discloses the fnc
tional relations between proper knowledge, productive activity, correct speech,
and sociophysical well-being. Metaphor is not merely a fgure of speech, drawing
an analogy or playing on a resemblance for the sake of verbal efect.
Dylan Thomas also took the view that body, world, and idea must be equated,
and he saw the poet's task as one of registering and rendering these equations as
succinctly and truthfully as possible. 8 From this view arises the notion that the
world of physical things is continuous with the animate and articulate world of
Mind. Thus, Thomas speaks of the rain wringing "out its tongues on the faded
yard" much as the old Yurok healer speaks of the social repercussions of the whale
which enters the mouth of the Klamath River. The Dogon too scrutinize the natu
ral world for auguries that bear upon the human condition so that, for example,
should a tree be found which fuits without frst fowering, this may be sai d to be
a sign that a woman could well conceive a child without having resumed menstru
ating after the birth of a previous child. The metaphor is founded on the correspon
dence which the Dogon say exists between fowering and fruiting in the vegetable
world and menstruating and giving birth in the human world ( Calame-Griaule
1 965: 28) .
To fathom the signifcance of these anthropomorphic images we must frst em
phasize that they are socially constructed and not idiosyncratic. Although one be
comes a healer among the Yurok through a mixture of parental persuasion and
childhood dreams that suggest a latent abil ity for shamanistic healing, the system
of therapeutic ideas and practices is constituted culturally and not personally. Even
when a Yurok healer interprets an il lness by applying personal knowledge of the
patient's personality and family background, the diagnosis always conforms to so
cial stereotypes such as that adulterous liaisons and malevolent thoughts about
other people cause one to become ill. The same interplay of a unique biography
and a conventional repertoire of ideas is shown in Thomas's poetry. Thus, although
"In the White Giant's Thigh" is highly individual in style and refects a private
preoccupation with l inks between physical and verbal potency, its elegaic form and
sprung rhythm recall traditional techniques, while its fund of images is culled fom
a common cultural heri tage: the fertility-engendering giant cut on a chalk hi l l , the
fertility-giving river food, the double-understanding of conception, and, toward
the close of the poem, the biblical allusions and the reference to Guy Fawkes' fres.
Creativity, then, is a license exercised within a socially constituted frame of refer
ence, which is why the Yurok healer's individual gifts are a boon for the whole
community and why Thomas's poem can speak to and for us all.
ME TAP H OR AN D E M B ODI ME NT
I now want to consider the social and psychophysical aspects of metaphor in every
day language. Here one fnds abundant evidence that the world of the body and
the body of the world have something in common. We readily speak of an angry
sky, of stars looking down, of the wind blowing, of a brooding landscape, of social
ills, and of economic depression and recovery as if these natural or social phenom-
ena were themselves possessed of consciousness and will. Reciprocally, we speak
of the shoulder or brow of a hill and the foot of a mountain, of being petrifed
with fright, of having roots, of being tured on, switched of, and burt out, of
a person reacting automatically or behaving mechanically as if the body of the earth
and the actions of a machine were somehow connected to the world of the human
body.
In analyzing these metaphors it is not enough to say that they arise because
subj ectivity can identif itself only through exteral obj ects, 9 or that they arise be
cause "the human body and its fnctions are the primary frame of reference in nam
ing obj ects of the perceived world" (Thass-Thienemann 1 968: 38-39) , or that an
thropomorphic metaphors simply reflect the fact that, ontogenetically, the frst
"language" of life is gestural , postural, and bodily ( Diamond 1 959;
ThassThienemann 1 968: 38-39) . Fr to emphasize the psychophysical or social as
pects of metaphor construction and use is unhelpful as long as it implies a dualistic
conception of human behavior and a linear form of reasoning which, in the case
of metaphor, makes one aspect of the trope prior or primary. Such a lopsided view
is immediately suggested whenever metaphor is defned as a way of saying some
thing "in terms of" or "by way of" something else.
1
0 My argument is that metaphor
must be apprehended nondualistically and that the idea or sensation and its bodily
complements ( social , mechanical , physiological, geographical) betoken, not an ar
bitrary or rhetorical synthesis of two terms-subject and obj ect,
1
1 tenor and
vehicle-which can be defned more realistically apart from each other, but a true
interdependency of mind and body, Self and World. In my view, metaphor reveals
unities; it is not a fgurative way of denying dualities. Metaphor reveals, not the
"thisness of a that" but rather that "this is that. " Thus, in the famous Upanishadic
parable of the fg tree, the indivisibility of the world is revealed through a seed
which, when taken fom the fg and then frther divided, appears to be nothing
at al l , yet from this very essence the tree grows. The teacher tells the adept: "This
fnest essence, -the whole universe has it as its Self: That is the Real : That is the
Self: That you are
S
vetaketu! " (Chandogya Upanishad VI, xi i ) .
R. H. Blythe expresses a poet's understanding of metaphor when he writes of
it as "a consummation of identity, " noting that in poetry "we often say more than
we mean" and "speak more truly than we know" because we disclose the identity
of that which the intellect separates ( 1 942: 1 54, 1 66) . Haiku, Blythe says , are the
purest expression of metaphor because they are this "thou art it" ( tt tvam asi ) .
"When a man becomes a bamboo grove swaying in the windy rain, a cicada crying
itself and its l ife away, then he is ' it"' ( 1 947: 4-5 ) .
I f this identity of Self and World which metaphor discloses is real, then our
awareness of it is decidedly impermanent and occasional , and it is necessary to con
sider in some detail the variabil ity of metaphorical value.
QU I E S CE NT AN D ACT I V E ME TAP H OR
The etymology of even the most abstract words often refers us to the body. Our
word time is from the Latin tempu, originally denoting a "stretch, " and cognate
with tempora, "temples of the head"-perhaps because the skin stretches and corru
gates here as one grows older. 12 The Chinese character meaning duration, chiu,
was explained by the Han lexicographers as derived from the character jen, man;
chiu was a man stretching his legs and walking "a stretch, " j ust as a roof stretches
across a space and time stretches from one event to another (Needham 1 96s : r ) .
A third example, which I shall elaborate upon later in this chapter, is the verb
to know which in all Indo-European languages is cognate with words meaning
"king, " "kin, " "kind, " "generation, " "knee, " and "can. " Indeed, the embodied in
tentionality of human Being seems to be inextricably tied up with our views about
the world, and "I think" (cogito) is inseparable from "I can" (practico) . As Merleau
Ponty puts it:
Our body, to the extent that it moves itself about, that is, to the extent that it is
inseparable from a view of the world and is that view itself brought into existence,
is the condition of possibility, not only of the geometrical synthesis, but of all expres
sive operations and all acquired views which constitute the cultural world. ( 1 962: 388)
Thus, the physical abil ity to move out into the world is at the same time an
expression of growing up socially and of being capab
l
e of supporting others, which
may be why the knees and parts of the leg are, in many societies, metaphors for
kinship categories. 13 And it is because human consciousness is intentional and em
bodied that such metaphors readily rediscover themselves in our thought, as when
Dylan Thomas writes of walking in the white giant's thigh where barren women
pray to be able to conceive, and thus hits upon an old Indo-European connection
between the thigh, conception, and kinship. 1 4
=
But in such examples, references to the body are implicit and usually below
the threshold of our awareness. In everyday l ife, when we say a nuisance is a "pain
in the neck, " a "headache, " or a "handful" or that someone is "stif-necked" or
"looks down on us, " we are seldom mindful of the actual l inks between the mental
or emotional attitude signifed and the bodily praxis which does the signifing. If
a nuisance actually does give us a headache or sore neck we are still unlikely to
regard the relationship between the verbal form and the actual event as anything
other than arbitrary. This is, I believe, the case in both literate and nonl iterate
societies. For instance, when in Engl ish we speak of the mouth of a river it is usually
without any thought or visualization of a human mouth. Among the Kuranko of
Sierra Leone the same suspension of disbel ief applies in everyday speech. One en
ters a house through its "mouth" ( i . e. , door) or "cuts one's mouth of" from one's
natal home ( when building a house of one's own) or "cuts one's mouth of from
another person" ( when one takes umbrage) without necessarily being aware of the
psychophysical side of the metaphors, e. g. , that leaving home is like "cutting one's
mouth of the breast" at weaning because, thereafter, one can no longer depend
on the family granary for one's food. 15 In fact, we would consider it very odd if
anyone consciously required or sought a real connection between word and thing
as a precondition of meaningful speech, though this is often one of the defning
characteristics of schizophrenic thought and is found occasionally in nonpatho
logical cases as well. A. R. Luria, the Russian neuropsychologist, describes such
a case, a mnemonist for whom words immediately conj ured up a wealth of synes
thetic associations which blurred the boundary between obj ects and sensations, im
agination and reality, perception and feeling. The colors , tastes, textures, and im
ages that surrounded every word the mnemonist read or heard would become
obstacles to logical and abstract reasoning, for he could dismiss nothing from his
mind and could not avoid the sensations and reveries which continually fused
words and things. Genuinely abstract ideas, such as infnity, eterity, and nothing
ness , frightened him, because they summoned up no concrete images. As he put
it, "I can only understand what I can visualize" ( Luria 1 969: 1 30) . Socially, the
mnemonist appeared to be slow-witted and dull simply because he could not easily
disconnect the words which mediate social relationships from the inward sensations
and associations with which the words were imbued.
Quotidian life goes on without any special signifcance being attached to the
anthropomorphic fgures which abound in common speech. On certain occasions ,
however, these mundane metaphors are activated and realized in quite extraordi
nary ways. Thus, when Thomas wrote his poems, his experience was not unlike
that of the mnemonist: "When I experience anything, I experience it as a thing
and a word at the same time, both equally amazing" (cited by Reid 1 954: 20) .
Again, among the Oj ibwa there i s an implicit category distinction i n the lan
guage between animate and inanimate. Stones are grammatically animate and
Oj ibwa sometimes speak to stones as if they were persons, but this does not mean
that the Oj ibwa are animists "in the sense that they dogmatically attribute living
souls to animate obj ects such as stones"; rather, they recognize "potentialities for
animation in certain classes of obj ects under certain circumstances. The Oj ibwa
do not perceive stones, in general, as animate, any more than we do" ( Hallowell
1 9s8: 6s ) .
If we now reconsider the Yurok metaphors described earlier we can be more
specifc about the circumstances in which the activation of anthropomorphic meta
phor occurs. According to Erik Erikson, the geographical-anatomical imagery of
the Yurok only really comes into force in situations of crisis: "wherever mysterious
food sources beyond the Yurok's territory, technology, and causal comprehension
need to be infuenced, or whenever vague human impulses and fears need to be
alleviated" ( 1 943: 258) . In crisis, the Yurok apply the oral model of childhood con
ditioning in an attempt to grasp and master "geographic space by proj ecting nearest
environment, namely body feel ings , onto it" ( 276) . In other words, metaphors
which are ordinarily quiescent (yet are the verbal correlatives of actual bodily dis
positions) are activated on such critical occasions to mediate changes in people' s
bodies and experience and to alter their relationships with one another and the
world. 1 6 An elementary example of this activation of metaphor is the agonistic im
agery in everyday English ( arguments get attacked, demol ished, shot down, lost
or won, and so forth) , which may become realized in actual physical fghting when
people lose their tempers in an argument ( Lakof and Johnson 1 980: 4) .
Crisis is also the key to understanding the way poetry activates metaphors
which are ordinarily quiescent. Although, in the case of poetry, the crisis is often
self- induced rather than adventitious, the transformation which real izes connec-
Thinking thrugh t Bdy 145
tions between personal , soci al, and natural bodies requires as its precondition a
disruption of normal psychophysical and social patters.
1
7 But, however it is in
duced, the movement which carries a poet into this new awareness , imbuing words
with more than ordinary power, is of the very nature of metaphor ( l iterally, "to
exchange and move") . It is in this sense that Ezra Pound speaks of great literature
as "simply language charged with meaning to the utmost possible degree" ( 1 954: 23)
and Wallace Stevens writes i n Notes toward a Supreme Fiction:
The poem refeshes life so that we share,
Fr a moment, the frst idea. . . .
The poem, through candor, brings back a power again
That gives a candid kind to everything.
Now, some would argue that these applications of anthropomorphic metaphor
are merely rhetorical or magical ; beautiful, but based on illusory attributions of will
and consciousness to the exteral , nonhuman world. At most, it might be said,
these metaphors are instances of some mythopoeic propensity of the primitive or
unconscious mind, inferior in all but aesthetic properties to the logical and abstract
reasoning of a civil ized person. 1 8 It may be admitted that anthropomorphic think
ing is often prompted by crisis, when the logical or social structure of the world
breaks down, but such recourse to metaphor is usually dismissed as neurotic, regres
sive, or downright erroneous. 1 9
I want to argue a diferent view: that metaphor is a part of all thought, that
it is a correlate of patters of bodily action and interaction, that the use of meta
phor in poetry and ritual is efcacious in a very real sense, and that the elaborate
analogies drawn between personal , social, and natural bodies cannot be written
of as mere fgures of speech or regarded as more defnitive of preliterate than of
li terate thought.
ME TAP H OR , B ODY U S E , AN D HABITUS
Let us frst consider the contention that metaphor is a verbal correlate of patters
of body use and interaction. Here I will tum from metaphors of waterays and
discuss pathways and movement along paths. My examples are drawn from African
ethnography, but metaphors of pathways are well-nigh universal , and later I will
refer to examples from English poetry.
20
The Kuranko use the word kil ( "path, " "road") as a metaphor for social rela
tionship. For instance, the adage nyendan bin to kile a wa t an segi describes the
way a particular species of grass ( used for thatching) bends one way as you go along
a path through it and then bends back the other way as you retur along the path.
This movement to and fro of grass along a pathway is used as a metaphor for the
movement of people, goods, and services within a community; it is a metaphor
for reciprocity. Thus , in Kuranko one often explains the reason for giving a gift,
especially to an in-law, with the phrase kile k n faga, "so that the path does not
die. " If relations between afnes or neighbors are strained, however, it is often said
that "the path is not good between them" ( kile nyur san ter) , and if a person
disappoints a friend then people may comment a r kile nyur tar a bo r ( "he
did not walk on the good path with his friend") . 2 1
As soon as one enters a Kuranko village one realizes how natural this metaphor
is, because a vi llage comprises a number of open spaces called luiye around which
are clustered circular thatched houses, and these open spaces are interconnected
by a labyrinth of narrow lanes and dusty paths. But the metaphor is not j ust descrip
tive. The physical movement of people within the community is largely determined
by social, economic, and moral imperatives, such as visiting and greeting, sharing
food, cooperating in food production and in festivals, and giving gifts or services
according to commitments of in-lawship, neighborliness, or kinship. Community,
say the Kuranko, is a matter of "pulling well together" or of "moving together. "
In these ways a hbitus is produced: a confguration of structures such as houses ,
courtyards, gardens, lanes, and cooking yards which impose a habitual patter on
the movement of people. 22 Thus, the Kuranko house is divided into male and fe
male domains23 which impose a patter of sexual segregation on those who live
in i t. This sexual segregation can always be seen to ramif beyond the house, as
a result of a chain of l inked ideas which refer simultaneously to the body, to the
house, to the conception of children, and to political and economic practices. Men
are associated wi th the front and forecourt of the house, provide the seed from
which a child grows, sow rice and harvest grain, and control j ural and political
l ife; women are associated with the back of the house, provide the container
(womb} in which a fetus grows, tend rice and cook grain, and are politically and
j urally marginal. 24 Everyday tasks and objects reinforce these distinctions , so that
the way women lift and let fall a pestle when pounding grain in a mortar, the sway
of the body needed in winnowing rice, and the suppleness required in tending a
hearth or bending to an infant all become habitual dispositions, defning for the
Kuranko a mode of comportment which is typically "feminine. " On the other hand,
the arduous work of the men in fell ing trees or hoeing steep hi llsides fosters muscu
lar strength and rigidity which, in tum, become metaphors for the "masculine" dis
position and j ustifcations for male politicoj ural control . By contrast, the supple
and fuent movements of women as they bend to their daily tasks give rise to meta
phors which make women out to be capricious and unreliable. In all these in
stances, therefore, patters of body use are correlated with metaphors which in
efect mediate between the world of material obj ects and the world of ideas or senti
ments. But there is always a very real connection between the physical disposition
of objects in the material environment and the social or temperamental disposition
of people. The metaphor of paths both recognizes these connections between mate
rial , social, bodily, conceptual , and temperamental horizons an fuses these hori
zons into a single image.
But how exactly does the imagery of pathways relate to the human body? In
many African societies the metaphor of pathways applies not only to social rela
tionships but also to individual anatomy and physiology. Among the Songhay of
Mali, for instance, movements of "blood, " "heat, " and "breath" take place along
pathways in the body (fonda, "pathway, " "road") . When these movements of
blood, heat, or breath fow unimpeded i n the right direction a person i s healthy,
but if the flow is reversed or obstructed illness occurs. Vital organs such as the
heart, liver, lungs, and stomach are likened to crossroads where blood or heat is
concentrated and then difsed. Il lness signifes that blood, heat, or breath has be
come blocked, withdrawn, or forced to fow backward ( Bisilliat 1 976: sss-78) .
This view of health and disease is based on a kind of reciprocal anthropomor
phism whereby extrapolations are made from the social and material hbitus in
order to describe and explain individual psychophysiology. But the analogies are
more than descriptive, because there are in fact vital links between the well-being
of individuals and the quality of social relationships. Patters of economic coopera
tion and exchange within an African village are the material bases of individual
life, as well as symbols of community. 25
The Songhai view is characteristic of the African notion that the fate of the
individual is linked to the quality of his or her social relationships, and beyond
this to economic and political realities. Like the riverine metaphors of the Yurok,
African metaphors of pathways coalesce social, economic, political, and anatomi
cal elements into a single image which in efect expresses the essential interdepen
dence of those elements. Such metaphors are thus the verbal correlates of patters
of social interaction and bodily disposition within the hbitus. And this may ex
plain why metaphors of self refer universally to such immediate elements of the
hbitus as house, animals, plants, and in modem societies, machines. 2
6
It is largely because metaphors refer simultaneously to the self and the socioeco
nomic hbitus that they are instrumental in mediating between ideology and eco
nomic infrastrcture. Metaphor is the bridge we use when teaching children the
skills upon which economic production depends and, reflexively, when we try to
think our way out of an impasse and fnd a way of moving back into the world
of social activity. 27 Let us explore some examples of metaphor as a mode of praxis.
As we have already seen, the Songhai regard the circulation of people, goods ,
and services along paths in the village as vitally connected to the circulation of
blood, heat, and breath in the individual body. The metaphor of pathways medi
ates this l ink between socioeconomic practices and ideas about health and disease.
Among the Kuranko, this l ink between the social and the psychophysical is empha
sized in a sl ightly diferent way. When there is a breakdown or rupture ( to use our
metaphors) in social relationships , the Kuranko often speak of the paths between
people being obstructed or darkened. Diviners may say that "the gates are closed. "
A gift can "open" the path, j ust as a sacrifce to the ancestors "clears" or "purifes"
the path between members of a l ineage and their forebears. And if a person con
fesses a grudge or ill will toward a neighbor, it is thought that the confession makes
good the path again.
The metaphor of walking along paths is also central in many Kuranko oral
narratives. Thus, a key metaphor for impeded social communication is lameness,
and a reluctance or difculty in walking is associated with two kinds of social situa
tion: when an eldest son is loathe to grow up and succeed to his father's position
and when a girl is loathe to marry and bear children. While the frst failure leads
to an interrupted succession which threatens the continuity of a l ineage, the sec-
ond implies a breakdown in the system of marriage-exchanges on which are built
the alliances among diferent clans in the village. 28 If we recall the etymological
link which exists in Indo-European languages between knee, knowldge, and
genertion we gain an insight into the signifcance of the metaphor of lameness.
An artifcial prolonging of childhood involves in any society a sort of self
immobilization in which a person eschews knowledge of adulthood and refuses to
generate either social relationships or children. Limping, like halting speech, is
thus an expression of psychophysical ambivalence in which a deeply regressive urge
inhibits the social imperative of growing up and "standing on one's own feet. " In
Kuranko narratives , the metaphor of lameness is a way of focusing attention on
this social imperative, yet it refers to a mode of behavior in the real world
walking-which is one of the bases of all social praxis. It is not j ust l inguistic con
vention that leads us to employ metaphors of walking and of paths but an inherent
relation between these metaphors and patters of practical activity. This is nicely
shown by the Kabyle ( Algeria) notion of the "measured pace" ( neither lagging l ike
a sluggard nor running ahead like a dancer) as an expression of a person' s adj ust
ment to tQe collective rhythms of work "which assign each act its particular mo
ment in the space of the day, the year, or human l ife" ( Bourdieu 1 977: 1 62) .
I t i s the inseparability of conceptual and bodily activity which explains why
metaphors often mediate the forms of human illness. Thus, a not untypical "con
version reaction" among neurotics who embody the contradictions of their familial
environment is paralysis or pain in the legs and acute difculty in walking. 29 Un
conscious compliance in cultural metaphors about il lness undoubtedly means that
disease and theory of disease arise out of the same hbitus. 30 And insofar as cognitive
and physical aspects of our being-in-the-world are inseparable, it is impossible to
accept the view that "il lness is not a metaphor, and that the most truthful way
of regarding il lness-and the healthiest way of being ill-is one most purifed of,
most resistant to, metaphoric thinking. "3 1
If metaphor mediates illness, it can also mediate cure. But before turing to
consider the therapeutic value of metaphor we should note that metaphors mediate
relationships between conceptual and physical domains of the hbitu in a dialecti
cal manner. For instance, Songhay metaphors of anatomical paths and Yurok meta
phors of anatomical streams ( like our "canals" and "ducts") emerge from a kind
of reciprocal anthropomorphism whereby an element in the shared material hitus
is interalized by individuals and becomes thereby a part of a collective ideology
of self, a "common knowledge. " But this interalization is an ative appropriation
of the hbitus, not a passive or automatic process in which the social body, in some
mysterious way, gets mirrored or proj ected on the static individual body where it
serves as a kind of l inguistic analogue of social structure. Moreover, this active
realization of correlations between self and hbitus presupposes an exteralization
which has already occurred, in which the self through bodily movement in con
crete situations has discovered for itself an identity in relation to the immediate
environment of cultural and natural obj ects: kinsmen, houses, animals, rivers,
hills, and plants (both vegetable and industrial ) . 32 This extrapolation outward, in
which more and more distance is tolerated between the body and the obj ect
Thinking thrugh t Bdy 149
("knee" versus "knowledge") is the basis of abstraction, and when the world of ob
j ects is fnally reassimilated through the process of reciprocal anthropomorphism
the person fnds himself determined, not by subj ective attitudes but by socially con
structed ideas. In this dialectical movement, metaphors are crucial mediators or
synthesizers because they refer to the body on the one hand and to social and natu
ral environments on the other. It is in this synthetic fnction that their power
as instruments of social learing lies. They can "make over" the person to the so
cial world and reciprocally "imprint" the social world upon the person' s body.
Thus, metaphors of cultivation, ripening, and harvest are used by the Kuranko
when initiating boys into manhood. Psychophysical maturity is thereby linked to
the growth of the rice, but the growth of rice depends reciprocally on a mature and
cooperative attitude among men. As the Kuranko put it, they must "move well
together. "
ME TAP H OR I CA L I N S TRU ME N TA L I T Y
AN D T HE R AP Y
Earlier in this chapter I drew a distinction between quiescent and active metaphor
and pointed out that the instrumental possibilities of metaphor are usually realized
in a crisis. It is now necessary to expand and illustrate this view that metaphors
are means of doing things and not merely ways of saying things. 33
For the sake of argument let us defne a crisis as any situation in which there
occurs an unbearable conflict between two or more ideas ( "being in two minds") ,
between two or more practical possibilities ( "being pulled or tugged in two direc
tions") , or between conceptual and practical alteratives ( "wanting or knowing
what to do bufnot how to do it") . In all these "double-bind" situations an impasse
is reached which may be manifest mentally or verbally as a "dilemma" or "contra
diction" or physically and energetically as a "bind, " "knot, " "spasm, " "tearing, "
or "splitting. " In short, the unity of being- in-the-world is broken.
Since metaphors coalesce social, personal, and natural aspects of Being, as well
as unifing ideas and practices, it is only to be expected that metaphors should
often be called upon in resolving these double binds and in making people whole
again. It is because anthropomorphic metaphors unite these various domains in
the one image that they facilitate movement from one domain to another. In partic
ular, a movement is facilitated from the domain where the double bind is manifest
and where, therefore, anxiety is most intense to another domain which is relatively
fee from anxiety and accordingly still open to control and manipulation. Metaphor
thus mediates a transference from the area of greatest stress to a neutral area which
is held to correspond with it. 34 In this process , metaphors which are usually quies
cent and taken for granted are activated and given literal value.
Fr example, Aristotle recommended walking or running as a way of dealing
with mental depression. The key metaphor here makes fuency of body movement
analogous to fluency in thought: activating the body will alleviate the tendency
toward immobi lization and depression in the mind. Among the Kuranko, diviners
are consulted when a person falls ill. By addressing river pebbles ( neutral obj ects)
lain out on a mat, the diviner is able to "see" the cause of the illness. Bodily sick
ness is often attributed to a social event, such as a wife's infdelity, a grievance
nursed toward a neighbor, or a failure to make sacrifces to one's ancestors. Appro
priate social actions-a wife' s confession, an apology to one' s neighbor, a sacrifce
to one's ancestors-have a correspondingly benefcial efect on the body and mind
of the ail ing individual . And a Yurok shaman responds to a geographical crisi s,
such as a whale entering the mouth of a salmon river, by asserting control over
a corresponding zone of his or her anatomy: the oral-nutritional canal.
In the frst case the domain of mind is manipulated by bodily activity; in the
second case the domain of body-mind is manipulated by social activity; in the third
case the domain of geography is manipulated by bodily activity. At frst sight the
choice of neutral domain seems to be arbitrary, and in most societies there is a
certain amount of opportunism and experimentation in discovering a domain
where action proves efective in dealing with the domain where the stress is mani
fest. Among the Kuranko, for example, the failure of an herbal remedy may lead
a sick person to consult a diviner, who may prescribe a form of social therapy ( gift
giving or sacrifce or confession) ; if this therapy fails, the person may well end up
consulting a Wester-trained doctor. 35 The same sort of medical pluralism occurs
in modem societies when a failure of psychoanalysis ( a talking cure) leads a person
to try group therapy (a social cure) or some kind of physiotherapy ( bioenergetics,
hatha yoga, or gardening)
!
In all these cases, however, it is not j ust a matter of
discovering a neutral domain where action is possible but of discovering a neutral
domain which is most immediately connected to the domain where stress is manifest
according to an inherent pattering of causes involving specifc elements of each
domain of Being. 3
6
Fr example, in the case of hay fever ("caused" by hypersensitiv
ity of the mucous membranes to foreign proteins such as pollen grains) , the "origi
nal" cause is often found to be social anxiety connected with infantile sexual curios
ity which was repressed by a sexually inhibited mother, rather than some naturl
factor such as genetic proneness or amount of pollen in the atmosphere ( Black
1 969: 1 01 ) . Nevertheless, these genetic and environmental factors remain causal,
though distantly, and in seeking to alleviate the physical symptoms of hay fever
a suferer may well fnd that the proximate and therapeutically efective "cause"
lies in his deal ing with the guilt that led him into the habit of exploring the world
by smell instead of touch, yet in such an ambivalent way as to lead to the self
punitive and self- immobi lizing hay fever syndrome.
One of the drawbacks of much moder medicine is its reluctance to range over
all the domains of Being-personal , social, natural-in diagnostic and therapeutic
work. A kind of absolutism prevails in which specifc symptoms are assigned deter
minate causes, 37 and doctors pour scor on the opportunistic character of "altera
tive" or "primitive" medicine. Such doctrinal infexibil ity undoubtedly refects the
fact that metaphor is no longer a key instrumentality in modem medical practice. 38
Yet, as we have seen, it is by facil itating movement within the total feld of Being
that metaphor is a crucial means of locating areas where we can act upon those
areas where we have lost the power to act. Insofar as modem medicine makes the
doctor the sole actor in diagnostic and therapeutic practice, the devalorization of
Thinking thrugh the Bdy 1 5 1
metaphor may also be seen as a way of taking away from the patient the means
of participating in his or her own diagnosis and treatment. Unl ike specialist j ar
gons, metaphors are part of a common fund, a common knowledge. And because
this fund is equally accessible to both doctors and patients it tends to democratize
medicine and prevent the establ ishment of social divisions based on diferent de
grees of know-how.
It would be a mistake to disparage metaphorical instrumental ity as a primitive
mode of thought, a magical or primary-process activity. In my view, diferences
in modes of thought across cultures are idiomatic rather than formal, and if we
take care to relate thought to context of use when we make cross-cultural compari
sons this becomes quite obvious. If crisis be considered one such context, we fnd
that metaphorical instrumentality is j ust as typical of moder societies as pre
industrial ones. For instance, Erik Erikson observes that the phenomenon of trans
ference is as clearly understood and util ized by Yurok healers as by moder psycho
therapists. 39 In both cases a shift is efected from a domain of anxiety to a
comparatively neutral domain (from focus on parent to focus on parent-surrogate,
i . e. , therapist) , the second domain, however, corresponding to the frst. Again,
recourse to j argon and to "experience-distant" concepts in the human sciences indi
cates how anxieties which arise in the course of research are alleviated through
a shift to a neutral zone of abstract language or of number, which, nevertheless,
is held to correspond to the domain of human events. And moder consumer soci
eties aford us insight into how the manipulation of "things" such as cars, clothes,
cosmetics, foodstufs, and houses assists a displacement of afect away from the do
main of social relationships, where anxiety and helplessness so commonly prevail.
As for the world of scientifc theory, one has only to consider the mechanistic
imagery of eighteenth-century philosophy (Turbayne 1 962 ) , the arboreal metaphor
in nineteenth-century paleography, the topographical and archaeological imagery
in psychoanalysis and in structuralism, the organic analogies in functionalist sociol
ogy ( Leach 1 96 1 : 6} , and the metaphors of the mirror, the fountain, and the lamp
in literary theory ( Abrams 1 958) to agree with Jorge Luis Borges that the history
of ideas may be nothing more than the history of a handful of metaphors. Further
more, if, as Stephen Pepper argues, 40 world theories are so often generated by draw
ing analogies from the immediate sensible world, might not adequacy in explana
tion be seen as a matter of choosing the right metaphor rather than a question
of epistemological correctness ? For, by revealing actual correspondences between
the world of ideas and the world of things, a well-chosen metaphor may reveal
an underlying link which makes common sense and so avoids the fallacy of mis
placed concreteness. An excellent example of this kind of theory-building is given
by Gregory Bateson, who, in trying to visual ize and understand processes of social
control among the Iatmul of Papua New Guinea, compared Wester and I atmul
societies in terms of a contrast between radically symmetrical animals ( such as j el ly
fsh and sea anemones) and animals with transverse segmentation ( such as earth
worms , lobsters, and people} ( Bateson 1 973: so-5 1 ) . The biological analogy got
Bateson's thought moving in a new direction and revealed possible connections
between the form of social and natural worlds.
I M MOB I L I Z E D ME TAP H OR
In what circumstances can anthropomorphic metaphors be said to be ill chosen,
irrational , or pathological ? My argument has been that metaphorical instrumental
ity is not magical or irrational per se; on the contrary, it can be a way of healing,
of making whole. But when metaphor becomes an end in itself and loses its instru
mental value as a means of moving us among various domains of Being and of inte
grating these domains , then it can become pathological . In these circumstances,
metaphor becomes fetishized; a person gets stuck on the metaphorical vehicle itself
and, as in schizophrenia, plays endlessly with the associational possibilities of lan
guage but always in a narrowly denotative and idiosyncratic way as though words
were things. As Si lvana Arieti notes, the schizophrenic takes metaphors literally. 41
Metaphor thereby loses its value as a means of integrating many domains and, as
such, ceases to be metaphor.
But contrary to the view of Arieti and others who speak of "primitive" peoples
and schizophrenics al ike as trapped in a world of concrete thinking, confounding
words and things, 42 I hold that no a priori distinction between "them" and "us"
is tenable on these grounds. Using metaphors as if they were real , as in the case
of Yurok healers or in Dylan Thomas's poem, is a recognition of cosmic wholeness,
not a sign that the person is stuck in one domain of the world, possessed by it
and unable to move. Unlike the holistic and outgoing character of metaphorical
thought, pathological thought is aholistic and autistic. 43 Indeed, if we defne mad
ness in terms of a kind of existential immobility, in which a person can no longer
move out into the world and where intelligibility has no real connection with sensi
bility and sociability, then the fol lowing fragment from the autobiography of a
schizophrenic girl could well describe much scientifc writing and philosophy
wherein metaphor is eschewed on the grounds that it is too concrete, too elaborate,
or confuses that which should be distinguished. 4
This was it; this was madness, the Enlightenment was the perception of Unreality. 45
Madness was fnding oneself peranently in an all-embracing unreality. I called it the
"Land of Light" because of the bri l liant i llumination, dazzling, astral , cold, and the
state of extreme tension in which everything was, including myself. . . .
In the endless si lence and the strained immobility, I had the impression that some
dreadfl thing about to occur would break the quiet, something horrible, overhelm
ing. I waited, holding my breath, sufsed with inquietude; but nothing happened. The
immobi lity became more immobile, the si lence more silent, things and people, their
gestures and their noises, more artifcial , detached one from the other, unreal , without
l ife. ( Sechehaye 1 95 1 : 24, 25)
P OE TRY AS T HE R AP Y
It is now possible to retur to the role of anthropomorphic metaphor in poetry
and consider it in the light of what I have argued so far mainly by way of ethno
graphic examples.
In Thomas's "In the White Giant's Thigh, " two transformations take place.
Thinking thrugh the By 1 5
3
The frst is an obj ectifcation whereby a shift is efected from the domain of individ
ual anatomy to the comparatively neutral domain of landscape: the "waded bay"
at the mouth of the river Towy and a cemetery on the side of a chalk hi ll. The
second transformation, a corollary of the frst, is a scale reduction in which the
individual body and the body of the earth are made to assume the same proportions.
These transformations make the world of subj ectivity thinkable and graspable.
Landscape supplies an "obj ective correlative" of personal and social concers, the
natural world being amenable because it appears to be on the same scale as the
human world and viable because it is in reality linked to events in the poet' s l ife.
In this way, a poem made with well-chosen metaphors can move us toward a recog
nition of a unity which for a time had seemed lost.
A remarkable instance of this therapeutic power of poetry is recorded by John
Stuart Mi ll in his Autobiogaphy. When he was ffteen, Mill read Bentham for the
frst time and at once decided to devote his life to reforming the world. But fve
years later, in the autumn of 1 826, he began to sufer serious misgivings about this
proj ect, and he put a question to himself, the answer to which plunged him into
a deep crisis:
"Suppose that all your obj ects in life were realized; that all the changes in institutions
and opinions which you are looking forard to, could be completely efected at this
very instant: would this be a great j oy and happiness to you? " And an irrepressible
self-consciousness distinctly answered, "No! " At this my heart sank wi thin me: the
whole foundation on which my life was constructed fell down. All my happiness was
to have been found in the continual pursuit of this end. The end had ceased to char,
and how could there ever again be any interest in the means ? I seemed to have nothing
left to l ive for. ( Mill 1 98 1 : 1 39)
Mill' s crisis was i n part a realization that hi s education under hi s father's hand
had given him the means of attaining happiness, yet these means were not in them
selves strong enough to "resist the dissolving influence of analysis" and actually
make him happy ( 1 4
5
) . 4
For I now saw, or thought I saw, what I had already before received with incredul ity
that the habit of analysis has a tendency to wear away the feel ings: as indeed it has
when no other mental habit is cultivated, and the analysing spirit remains without
its natural complements and correctives. ( 1 41 )
He saw that his intellectual upbringing had made "precocious and premature analy
sis the inveterate habit of [his) mind, " "undermining" and "weakening, " as he put
it, a feeling for nature and for the "pleasure of sympathy with human beings . "
This profound disconnectedness of personal , social, and natural aspects of his
Being immobilized him for more than two years, and he describes himself as living
in a state of "dry, heavy dej ection, " performing his intellectual tasks "mechani
cally. " But gradually his malady lifted, frst through a resolve not to make happiness
a direct goal or necessary precondition of his existence, and second through culti
vating what he calls "passive susceptibilities . " In this endeavor, Wordsworth' s
poetry, which he frst read in the autumn of 1 828, was a revelation, reawakening
a lost love of "rural obj ects and natural scenery" and helping him recover that dis
position of mind which Keats called "negative capability. " He describes Words
worth' s poems as "a medicine":
They seemed to be the very culture of the feelings, which I was in quest of. . . . I
needed to be made to feel that there was real , permanent happiness in tranquil contem
plation. Wordsworth taught me this, not only without turing away from, but with
a greatly increased interest in, the common feelings and common destiny of human
beings. ( r s r , 1 53 )
Through the poetry of Wordsworth, Mi ll recovered his wholeness of Being: the
natural world of natural contemplation was the way he found his way back into
social and personal completeness.
Almost a hundred years later, Robert Graves, traumatized mentally and physi
cally by his experiences in World War I , discovered the same healing powers of
poetry and
.
came to regard poetry as "a form of psychotherapy, " a mode of homeo
pathic heal ing (Stade 1 967: 1 2) . In his critical essays , Graves emphasizes the bodily
aspect of metaphor, stressing how poetic rhythms can induce trance and so move
a poet into those unconscious areas of Being where healing occurs of itself. It is
interesting in this respect that Graves is one of the few writers on prosody who
relate poetic meter to human activity and movement within the hbitus. He plays
up the practical role of the Nordic scop in both shaping charms for the protection
of king and realm and performing such mundane tasks as "persuading a ship's crew
to pull rhythmically and uncomplainingly on their oars against the rough waves
of the North Sea, by singing them ballads in time to the beat" ( Graves 1 955: 72) .
Thus , the slap of oars, the rattle of rowlocks, the ring of hammers on an anvil
in a forge, the beat of feet around altar or tomb, or the ploughman turing at the
end of each furrow (from versus to verse) all indicate the practical environment
of speech, sound, and movement in which poetry originated. Because he gives such
accent to the pragmatic and therapeutic power of poetry, it is not surprising that
Graves's early poems frequently refer to walking, the relaxed momentum of which
is, as we have already seen, often made a metaphor for social mobi lity and ade
quacy. 47
In forging links between personal , social, and natural worlds and in reforging
these links when we break them, poetry fosters wholeness of Being. But poetic met
aphor also accomplishes this act through a scale reduction in which social, natural ,
and personal worlds correspond evenly, so allowing us to feel equal to the wider
world. In this sense, poetry may be l ikened to the art of miniature painting. Here,
as Levi-Strauss observes, "the intrinsic value of a small-scale model is that it com
pensates for the renunciation of sensible dimensions by the acquisition of intelligi
ble dimensions" ( 1 966a: 24) . Reduction in scale and obj ectifcation extend our
power over a homologue of a thing, so allowing it to be grasped, assessed, and ap
prehended at a glance. "A child' s doll is no longer an enemy, a rival or even an
interlocutor. In it and through it a person is a made into a subj ect" ( 23 ) .
For many Westerers, the romantic appeal of traditional societies and Easter
religions is possibly the scale compatibility that appears to obtain in them between
the individual and the cosmos. In an ashram or a vi llage, a person can, it is sup-
posed, comprehend the universe as a whole, orienting himself within i t by extrapo
lating from self to world, near to far. In the modem world, however, such easy
synecdochism breaks down. As Devereux points out , there ceases to be any overall
patter one can grasp. Complexity, diversity, and change disorient the individual ,
and extrapolation from his own back yard to the wider world does not work. The
whole symptomatology of schizophrenia, Devereux argues, is an attempt to over
come this scale incompatibil ity between the individual and the world, to "neutral
ize the dysphoria resulting from disorientation" by withdrawing into make-bel ieve
backyards ( Devereux 1 980: 202-3 ) . The same search for scale compatibil ity may
explain why increasing numbers of Kuranko people have embraced Islam during
the past decade (Jackson 1 986) . Baffled by sociopolitical changes that impinge
upon their lives, yet unable to grasp or decide these changes, Kuranko vi llagers
experiment with the seemingly straightforward practices of Islam as a way of magi
cally regaining a sense of control-for Islam, like moderity, belongs to the world
beyond their horizons, yet, in its elementary demands, lies well within their grasp.
Synecdochism has both a temporal and a spatial dimension. To make "here"
seem continuous with "there" has simi lar existential implications to collapsing the
present into the past through an abolition of duration, of history ( El iade 1 959: 35) .
Contriving to make the present continuous with the ancestral past , like making
the individual appear to be continuous with the cosmos, brings the wider world
within a person's grasp in the here an now. In efect, remote and thus "abstract"
realms l ike the past are concretized. Tallensi ancestors become embodied in shrines
of clay or stick; in Australia, Aboriginal dreaming-tracks and song-lines are visible,
tangible forms in the contemporary landscape-a true geomythology; in Norther
Luzon, the Illongot map mythological events onto the landscape rather than the
calendar ( Rosaldo 1 980: 48) ; among the Nuer, "the tree under which mankind
came into being was still standing . . . a few years ago" ( Evans- Pritchard
1 940: 1 08) ; and among French alpine peasants , anecdotes about the past often have
the force of events recently experienced: "Once I was walking in the mountains
with a friend of seventy, " John Berger relates. "As we walked along the foot of
a high cl if, he told me how a young girl had fallen to her death there, whilst
haymaking on the alpage above . " "Was that before the war? " I asked. "In 1 833 , "
he said ( Berger 1 979: 8) .
This kind of immediatization and concretization of space-time brings the world
back home. Moreover, working with a common fund of accessible images-trees,
paths , houses, the human body-and making personal , social , and natural domains
coextensive, a seamless, unifed whole, places self and world on the same scale.
Not only does this make the universe coherent and comprehensible; it enables peo
ple to act upon themselves in the conviction that such action will have repercus
sions in social and even extrasocial realms. Conversely, this view enables people
to manipulate exteral obj ects and words-as in divinatory, healing, and cursing
rites-in the conviction that such actions will have repercussions on themselves
or on others. Thus mastery of the exteral world is linked reciprocally to mastery
of self, and people act as if the universe were extensions of themselves and they
of it.
TEN
The Mi gration of a Name
Alexander in Africa
In 1 970 my wife and I were living in Kabala, a small town in norther Sierra Leone.
We had come to li ve there partly because of i ts intriguing name, and even though
Kabala proved to have no etymological connection with the Hebrew qabbalah and
its esoteric traditions of cosmic union and interpretation ( it means , simply,
"Kabba's place") its fascination for us was not diminished. Kabala had been a
watering-place on one of the great caravan routes fom Upper Guinea to the Atlan
tic Coast. During the colonial epoch it became an administrative headquarters for
the Norther Province, and today it is a crossroads where people from fve ethnic
groups and three religious traditions mix, market, and sometimes intermarry.
Installed in our house on the outskirts of Kabala we would sit out on the ve
randa in the evening and watch the sun melt into the shoulder of the huge granite
inselberg that overshadowed the town, a labyrinth of dirt lanes, a vista of battered,
rusty iron roofs, mango and cotton trees, half lost in a haze of dust and smoke.
At dusk we would hear the muezzin's call to prayer, then the contradictory patter
of pagan drums, and perhaps an ail ing vehicle spluttering along a potholed road,
before night fell with the sounds of frogs and cicadas.
We had also chosen Kabala as a place to live because it was on the edge of
Kuranko country, where I had decided to do anthropological feldwork. From Kab
ala I began making regular treks with my Kuranko feld assistant, Noah Marah,
to Noah's natal village of Firawa ( literally, "place in the bush") , the main town
of Barawa chiefdom in the heart of Kuranko. There were no roads to Firawa, and
it was a good day' s j ourey to get there, fling along tortuous paths across laterite
plateaus covered with savanna and scrub, crossing turbid streams and swamps, pass
ing through hamlets whose houses had conical thatched roofs and were arrayed
around circular courtyards. But marking the way to Firawa, there was always the
great tor of Senekonke, "golden mountain, " in the east, where the Barawa rulers
once ofered sacrifces for the protection and well-being of the land.
Beyond Firawa, the path wound on into the dense forested foothills of the
northwest Guinea Highlands , j ust visible from Firawa in the dry season as a blue
smudge on the horizon. It is in that direction, still within Kuranko country, that
the river Niger has its source.
During those frst few months in Firawa, everything was strange and had to
be interpreted for me. 1 I was l ike a child who could take nothing for granted, and
Th Migation of a Name: Alexand in Africa 1 5 7
completely dependent on Noah for my bearings. "What i s the word for water?"
"Why do men weave and women spin?" "What is the meaning of that scrap of
white cloth and small brass bell hanging from the lintel of our neighbor's house ?"
"When do the rituals of initiation begin?" Luckily, Noah's patience was not tried
too much by my incessant questioning. Living in Kabala on the edge of Kuranko
country, with his wives hail ing from other ethnic groups, his children speaking
Krio, and his living eared by teaching English in a primary school , Noah was
in some ways also an outsider, struggl ing to reconcile the disparate traditions of
Europe and Afica.
Noah belonged to the rul ing house of Barawa, a chiefdom founded in the early
seventeenth century by a clan call ing itself Marah ( after the verb k mra, to subj u
gate, conquer, place under one's command) . Its members were staunch pagans and
renowned warriors who may have migrated fom the plains of the Upper Niger to
escape Islamic j ihads.
The Barawa succession includes twenty-one rulers from the time of settle
ment, 2 but the praise-singers and genealogists trace the lineage of the Marah chiefs
back to rulers of Mande, the medieval kingdom of the West Sudan fom whence
numerous peoples of Guinea, Liberia, Mali, and Ivory Coast still confdently trace
their origins. The greatest ancestor of the Marah was said to be a warlord called
Yi lkanani , whom the praise-singers described as "the frst father, " "the frst ances
tor, " and as Wasiru Mansa Yilkanani "because in his chieftaincy he was proud with
out being arrogant. "
The name Yilkanni captured my imagination j ust as Kabala had, and I was
intrigued to know more about this legendary fgure who had formidable gifts, fabu
lous wealth, numberless progeny, and outstanding virtue. I would ask old men to
tell me what they knew about Yilkanani , hoping to augment the piecemeal knowl
edge I had gathered listening to praise-singers or overhearing anecdotes about a
heroic ancestor who lived in Mande, ruled from where the wind rises to where
the wind dies down, and had hors on his head of coins and gold. But all these
informants insisted that only the praise-singers and genealogists would be able to
tell me what I wanted to know.
Unfortunately, these masters of traditions are elusive and diffcult men. In the
frst place, jelibas and fnbas are the sole custodians of oral history. They are the
memory of rulers, proud and j ealous of their vast knowledge and well aware that
chiefs depend on this knowledge to confrm their legitimacy. ]elibas and fnabas are
amply paid for their services in cattle, coin, kola, salt, and rice and will sometimes
fatter a man of a ruling house simply to caj ole a gift from him. 3 In the second place,
these bards and orators have great rhetorical skill. They will demean their own
forefathers, calling them "mere slaves, " and exaggerate the illustriousness of a
past ruler as ways of inspiring a chief to worthy deeds. Accompanying their fat
teries with the stirring music of xylophones, they encourage chiefs to heroic acts
when wiser counsels should prevai l , and chiefs frequently lament that all the reck
less deeds in the past, the failure of campaigns and the ruin of countries, can be
blamed on passions aroused in rulers by cunning praise-singers. The power of
praise-singers thus sits uneasily between knowledge which bolsters the status of a
ruler and interpretive l icense which serves self- interest, and it is often hard to
read the direction in which a jeliba' s fattery is going. The ambivalence felt by
rulers toward their praise-singers springs from the ambiguous social position of
these bards , who form an inferior hereditary group whom members of a ruling
clan may not marry yet possess the knowledge on which chieftaincy depends ,
who intercede between a chief and his ancestors as well as between a chief
and his subj ects. As with the classical myth of Hermes, the problem of the mes
senger is always one of discering the diference between dutiful transmission and
interested translation. 4
It wasn' t until my second period of feldwork in 1 972 that I was able to fnd
a genealogist who would agree to talk to me about Yilkanani without frst demand
ing an exorbitant fee. Faraba Demba was the genealogist of Noah's elder brother,
Sewa. Sewa had been a member of parliament in the frst post- independence gov
erment of Sierra Leone, and it was through my friendship with him that I was
able to persuade Faraba Demba to give me a taped interview. But even after agree
ment had been reached, it took me several weeks to run Faraba Demba to earth.
I would catch sight of him near the Kabala market-a tall man in a stone-blue
dj ellaba and skullcap, a leather sachet containing suras from the Quran dangling
around his neck, his white heelless Arabian shoes scuffng the red dust in the main
street as he vanished, l ike the white rabbit, down a narrow lane. When I did accost
him he demanded more time and a gift, and when we fnally did sit down together,
with Noah interpreting, on the shabby porch of his Kabala house, I suspected that
Faraba Demba's consent might have been merely to rid himself of a nuisance.
These are sections of the narrative I recorded:
Allah gave Lord Yilkanani immeasurable wealth. So wealthy did Lord Yi lkanani be
come that Wal i Ibrahim Braima said to him: "Lord Yi lkanani , your wealth is too great. "
Lord Yi lkanani replied: "Then I will go and bathe in the Lake of Poverty so that my
wealth will be reduced. " But when he went to the Lake of Poverty and threw water
across his right shoulder, a hor of gold appeared on his head, and when he threw
water across his left shoulder, a hor of coins appeared on his head. He tured to Wal i
Ibrahim Braima and swore him to silence, saying, "If you tell anyone about thi s I wi ll
cut of your head. " On that day a black headband appeared on Lord Yi lkanani' s fore
head.
After they had retured to the town, Wali Ibrahim Braima found his secret unbeara
ble, and his belly began to swel l . When Lord Yi lkanani sent for Wal i Ibrahim Braima,
the messenger came back and said that Wal i Ibrahim Braima's belly was swollen and
he could not come. Then Lord Yilkanani said, "Go and tell Wal i Ibrahim Braima to
put his mouth to the ground and confess what is in his belly. " When Wal i Ibrahim
Braima put his mouth to the ground and confessed he had seen hors of gold and coin
appear on Lord Yi lkanani's head when he bathed in the Lake of Poverty, the ground
split open.
Wherever in the world today you fnd the earth rent by chasms, it is because of
Wal i Ibrahim Braima's confession . . . .
It then happened that Allah spoke to his messenger, Muhammad, saying, "Muham-
Th Migation of a Name: Alexand in Africa 159
mad, nmu. "1 Muhammad replied, "Namu. " Allah told Muhammad that he should fnd
a mentor, ' but Muhammad answered, "Oh, Allah, thou hast created the seven levels
of the earth and the seven heavens; why should I place my trust in anyone but thee? "
But Allah said, "You must fnd a mentor among men. " So Muhammad declared, "I
wi l l make Yilkanani my mentor. " . . .
Allah withheld nothing from Yilkanani ; the riches and powers he did not possess
are not to be found in this world. . . .
Second to Yilkanani in power and wealth was Muluku Sulaiman. His power was
in the wind. If he sat in one place and thought of another place, then the wind would
instantly spirit him there. But Yilkanani and Muluku Sulaiman did not rule at the
same time. Nor is our epoch continuous with the epoch of their rule. In their epoch
there were no clans. The clans began in Mande, and it is the Marah who are the de
scendants of Yilkanani to whom Allah gave chieftaincy and wealth, and whom Mu
hammad made his mentor.
After Faraba Demba, there were other informants who told me about Yil
kanani , but their narratives often referred to quite diferent periods and places,
and the identity of the central fgure was never quite the same. For example, from
an itinerant trader from Upper Guinea I leared that the Mandingo there claim
a certain Dj urukaraneni as an ancestor.
Ojurukaraneni' s father was a wealthy trader in Kankan, called Alpha Kabbane, who
married a student of a renowned Quranic scholar and teacher, known as Mariama-the
Pure, at Mariama's behest. When Mariama died, Alpha Kabbane inherited her prop
erty and students. When Alpha Kabbane died, his son Oj urkaraneni went to Sigasso
in Segu to seek the advice of Fi l i , a warlord, on whether he should share his father's
inheri tance among the slaves, students, and others who claimed a part for having
helped create the fortune in the frst place. Fili advised Ojurukaraneni to leave of his
studies and become a warrior. Ojurukaraneni took FiJi' s advice and seven years later
retured to Kankan where he refsed to share the inheritance among the claimants.
A war immediately broke out, which Ojurukaraneni won with the help of warriors fom
FiJi' s army, and refgees fed Kankan as far as what is today norther Sierra Leone
where they became Kuranko. The following year, Fili demanded the retur of his warri
ors, but Ojurukaraneni refused to let them go. In the ensuing battle against Fili outside
Kankan, Ojurukaraneni was the loser, and when he surrendered to Fili he declared
he had been wrong to wage war against his master. Fili accepted this apology; he di
vi ded his army and gave a moiety to Ojurukaraneni , proclaiming hi m thenceforth Lord
Ojurukaraneni of Kankan.
In I 972, with the coming of the rains, when roads in norther Sierra Leone
become impassable and the demands of farm work leave villagers no time for talk
ing to an anthropologist, I retured to England. In Cambridge I found further refer
ences to Dj urukaraneni in published oral traditions from the West Sudan. In a book
which appeared in I 929, the French colonial administrator Charles Monteil men
tions Dj urukaraneni as a chief of Ouagadou between I 200 and 1 2 I 8 ( I 929: 8o) , 7
and in an essay publ ished two years earlier, an Englishman in Sierra Leone, E.
F. Sayers, refers to an ancestor of the Marah called Yurukherani who inherited
vast wealth and had "innumerable progeny. " His son, Saramba, "came down" from
Mande and occupied the westerly regions of the Guinea Highlands , apportioning
fefdoms among his ffteen sons ( 1 92 7: 8o) . 8
What struck me in these accounts as well as in the oral traditions I had col
lected were recurring references to wealth and pride. Yet these motifs were glossed
diferently in diferent chronicles. For instance, a renowned jeliba from Firawa told
me that Yilkanani' s nickname, Wasiru Mansa Yilkanani , signifed that Yi lkanani
was neither arrogant nor tyrannical; in this respect he epitomized the Kuranko ideal
of a ruler. Yet, according to the Kuranko informant whom Sayers interviewed in
the mid- 1 920S, it was Yurukherani's "overweening pride" that brought about his
downfall and left him destitute, though not before Allah had wared him by send
ing down an angel who posed the cabalistic question "Daraman?" to which
Yurukherani gave no answer. When Allah sent another angel with the message
"Maraman, " signifing that Yurukherani would lose his wealth if he remained ar
rogant, Yurukherani took no notice and thus lost everything he owned ( Sayers
1 927: 8o-8 I ) .
Concering Yilkanani' s fabulous wealth, there was sl ightly more agreement
among traditions. In both Faraba Demba's narrative and in the Mandingo tradition
summarized above, Yi lkanani is loath to lose, reveal , or share his great riches. This
motif is possibly an improvisation by bards and praise-singers who, by impugning
the generosity of one ruler, hope to encourage favors from another or, by recalling
the magnanimity of an ancestral fgure, obl ige a contemporary chief to give in the
same measure. 9 Another possibility is that the motif encapsulates a collective mem
ory of epochs when rulers exacted tithes from subj ect people but gave back little
by way of protection or sustenance. Anecdotes about exploitative rulers often fnd
their way into Kuranko folk traditions , and in this regard it is ironic that Kankan,
where, according to one narrative, Dj urukaraneni was overlord, is also the Kuranko
word for theft. 1 0 My aim in this chapter, however, is not exegetical but hermeneuti
cal, and rather than digress further into contextual analysis I will resume the story
of my own search for Yilkanani .
The next stage i n this search was a discovery that a more astute scholar would
have made much earlier: that the names Yilkanani , Yurukherani , and
Dj urukaraneni are Mande deformations of the Arabic Dhul-Quarein, meaning
"the two-hored" (Niane 1 965: 90; Sayers 1 927: 8o; Budge 1 933: xxvii ) , 11 who is re
ferred to in the cave sura in the Quran ( 1 8. 83-1 1 2) as a mighty ruler and prophet
who built a rampart against Gog and Magog, enemies of the divine kingdom.
Dhul-Quarein is Alexander the Great, 1 2 and the allusion to the two hors
takes us back to 332 B. C. when Alexander j oureyed into the Libyan desert and
consulted the famous oracle of Ammon, the ram-headed god whose principal
shrine was at Siwa oasis. This Libyan oracle apparently spoke for the Greek god
Zeus , to whom Alexander, like Perseus and Heracles, referred his origins. Although
Alexander never revealed the questions he put to the Siwa oracle, what he heard
( according to Arrian, writing in the mid-second century) "was agreeable to his
wishes"; thereafter he was publicly acknowledged to be a begotten son of Zeus ,
and he took Zeus Ammon to heart for the rest of his life. 1 3 When he died in 323
Th Migaton of a Name: Alxandr in Africa 161
B. c. Alexander passed into legend, adored with the curling ram' s hors of
Ammon.
In the Book of Daniel Alexander appears as a he-goat who attacks and breaks
the hom of a ram, presumably signifing Darius. 1 4 In the Quran he is the two
homed prophet sent by Allah to punish the impure. In Roman times, emperors
represented themselves as successors of Alexander, adopting his titles and promot
ing him as an exemplar. In Persia he becomes Sikander Dhulkamein, whose mirac
ulous feats are celebrated in epic poems and whose name is adopted by a sixteenth
century shah (Clarke 1 88 1 ) . In Arabian romances he is an ally of Muhammad,
and in Indian legend he makes a pilgrimage to the holy sites of India and is a friend
of the Buddha. In China he fghts alongside Chinese heroes against monstrous
beasts and discourses with Chinese sages under the Tree of Wisdom. In medieval
European romances he is a pious and chivalrous Christian, a soldier of God. In
Badakshan, Marco Polo meets a king who claims descent from Alexander, and
even today, in Hunza, an isolated valley beyond the Himalayas noted for the health
and longevity of its people, there rules a raj a who traces his descent to Alexander
( Sykes 1 969: 239) .
That Alexander still lives i s attested by the fact that the fshermen of Lesbos
in the Aegean still shout to the wild sea with the question "Where is Alexander
the Great ? " and answer with the cry "Alexander the Great lives and is King, " so
that the sea will become calm (Fox 1 973: 26) . And only ninety years ago, on the
coast of Makran, an English telegraph ofcial was murdered by Karwan tribesmen
because they had heard that fellow Musl ims , the Turks, had defeated the Greek
nation of Iskander Zulkamei n, a nation to which all European countries were
thought to be attached ( Sykes 1 969: 240) .
At this point we come full circle: the Macedonian world-conqueror who re
ferred his origins to a North African god fgures centuries later as an ancestor of
a ruling l ineage in a remote West African society. Ironically, this transmigration
of Alexander's name has taken place as a result of Islam, 15 a faith which the Marah
rulers steadfastly repudiated for centuries, 1 6 and a faith which did not even exist
in Alexander's time.
Where then is the real Alexander, amid all these versions in which ancient
events have become metamorphosed according to the preoccupations of diferent
societies and diferent epochs ? ' 7
The quest for the historical Alexander has been compared t o the quest for the
historical Jesus, and many scholars would assent to the view of C. B. Welles, that
"There have been many Alexanders. Probably there will never be a defnitive Alex
ander" ( 1 974: 9} . 1 8 Not only have diferent societies assimilated Alexander to their
own concers and values, but the very personal ity of the historian inevitably plays
its part in the shaping and reshaping of the image. 1 9 In the end, there seems no
metamorphosi s, base or noble, which we cannot reasonably entertain. As Hamlet
observed to Horatio (act 5, scene 1 } :
To what base uses we may retur, Horatio! Why may not imagination trace the noble
dust of Alexander till ' a fnd it stopping a bung-hole?
Horatio: Twere to consider too curiously to consider so.
Hamlet: No faith, not a j ot; but to follow him thither wi th modesty enough, and likeli
hood to lead i t, as thus: Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander retureth
into dust; the dust is earth; of earth we make loam; and why of that loam whereto
he was converted might they not stop a beer-barrel ?
These conversions of which Hamlet speaks involve historical , cultural , and
biographical imperatives , each of which helps shape the versions of a myth which
are, accordingly, only moments in an eteral narrative.
Here is one version, one moment: a poem I wrote in 1 974 called "Yilkanani"
(Jackson 1 976: 1 o) .
Yi lkanani , whom we approve,
sacked a country
and bured a stranger's camp;
when told that one of his victims
was his sister, drank a gourd
of palm wine and drowned himself
in the Black River
fom where he sings now
with the voice of palmbirds.
When I wrote this poem it was one of those rare occasions when words make
themselves heard, as it were, through negative capability, the poem fnding its way
onto the page fully formed without having perceptibly passed through the conscious
mind. The poem was, therefore, as much an obj ect of curiosity to me as any of
the other romances of Alexander-Kuranko, Persian, or Ethiopian-which I knew.
Yet, deciphering this particular version of the greater narrative led me into biogra
phy as well as history and necessitated reflections not only on my African researches
but on my own personality.
What I now want to do is use my poem as an occasion for talking about inter
pretation. In particular I want to demonstrate what Sartre calls the progressive
regressive method in which interpretation involves both a creative forard move
ment by which one grasps and articulates one's possibilities of being and a reflexive
analytical movement, which takes one back on a j ourey of exploration among
the obj ects, people, places , and events which make up the goun of one's being
( Sartre 1 968: chap. 3 ) . The human "proj ect" is thus a bringing into being which
discloses and conserves the prior conditions of our individual l ives , yet at the same
time real izes and surpasses these conditions by addressing them as a feld of instru
mental possibilities. It is within this irreducible domain of lived experience ( l
vecu)-embracing unconscious, conscious, and embodied aspects of our individual
being-that this dialectic must be traced out, though, as Sartre notes, lived experi
ence may be "comprehended" but never entirely "known" by the person who exists
it. 20 In other words, the part can never know the whole without distortion so long
as it is a part. Interpretation is, in my view, therefore not a matter of trying to do
away with this distortion but rather of trying to disclose it and use it creatively.
Th Migation of a Name: Alexaner in Africa 1 6
3
With this proviso let me hazard an interpretation of my poem. It begins wi th
a motif which is found in countless Alexander romances: the hero is a world
conqueror whose conquests gain him immense material wealth and great renown,
yet also bring him to the verge of moral ruin. The poem develops this motif in
an unusual way. While sacking a stranger's camp, the great warlord inadvertently
slays his sister. We may presume she had been given in marriage to a man of the
rul ing l ineage in this other country and that her brother had forgotten about the
erstwhile alliance. Upon hearing of what he had done, Yilkanani sufers terrible
remorse and drinks himself into near-oblivion before drowning himself in the Black
River. Today we hear his voice in the twittering of palmbirds-voices of banality,
void of sense.
My initial interpretation of the poem proceeded like the interpretation of a
dream. First there were residues and allusions of an ethnographic and personal
kind: a reminder of the great respect which Kuranko men pay their sisters , and
of the sister's power and right to curse a brother if he denies her this respect; a
reference to the Riviere Noire in the bas-Congo ( Zaire) where, in 1 964, I used
to picnic with Swiss fiends who, like myself, worked for the United Nations; and
an image from a Kuranko narrative about an adulterer whose lover was the wife
of a j ealous chief. The chief slew, dismembered, and bured the adulterer and had
his ashes thrown into the river. Fr years the disconsolate lover wandered along
the river, singing for the dead man, until at last the spirits of the stream, the fsh,
and the palmbirds decided to answer her song and give the dead man voice. They
miraculously reassembled the man, who was reunited with his lover and retured
with her to their village, where he killed the chief and took his place (Jackson
1 982a: 203-8) .
Then, deeper preoccupations began to come to light. After reading Ernest
Becker I saw that the hero might be understood as a "reflex of the terror of death, "
an image of our search for immortality, for a triumph of the spirit over the fesh,
of wi ll over matter, of words over the fux of events ( Becker 1 973) . My own feld
work among the Kuranko had reflected a profound dilemma. On one hand I found
myself striving for a wealth of data which I could convert into a book, a durable
object which might make my name. But on the other hand I felt my ego threatened
by a world of opaque languages , bizarre customs, and oppressive living conditions.
Running counter to this will to amass knowledge was a profound desire to give
up and let go, to allow my consciousness to be fooded by the African ambiance.
In the poem, this regressive undercurrent becomes visible in images of drinking,
drowning, and infantile babbl ing.
The killing of the sister is one expression of this ambivalence, and brings to
gether ethnographic and personal themes. I am the second-bor in a family of fve
children. Most of us are overachievers, and my elder sister is a successful academic
who for many years I sought to emulate and outshine. The willful striving after
knowledge which drove me to accompl ish an ambitious research task in Sierra
Leone in 1 969-70 must have been associated in my mind with this sibling rivalry.
2 1
But while my striving became expressed obl iquely as a desire to usurp my sister's
position, the countermanding desire to relinquish this striving found expression
in an unconscious fantasy of killing my sister-the model , for me, of academic am
bition. The poem fnally registers atonement for this "act" in a forfeiture of the
position and properties gained as a result of it. As for the desire to regress beyond
all ego-striving, the hero fulflls this desire but at the cost of speech and intelligibil
ity.
The fgure of Yilkanani thus precipitated in me a kind of inadvertent self
disclosure. The Kuranko hero served me as an obj ective correlative of my subj ective
prepossessions, enabling me to voice them, albeit in the dark and distorting mirror
of a poem, and later study them as they distanced themselves in this poem, which
seemed only partly to be of my own making.
But what this study brings to the surface is not mere biography but also cultural
and historical processes embedded in biography. The imagery of the poem is not
fee-floating but bound. I want to consider this binding in two ways , frst by taking
up Shelley's idea (circa 1 824) that all the poems ever written or that ever will be
written are but episodes of a single infnite poem whose complete form always
eludes us , and second by showing how every poem expresses historical and cultural
preoccupations of which the individual poet is seldom aware.
Leaving aside the biographical reasons already outl ined, the question arises
why Yilkanani should have a sister in my poem and thus depart radically fom the
Kuranko legends ? An answer may be hazarded in a brief reference to a Greek folk
tale in which Alexander the Great has a sister. According to this tale, Alexander's
sister spilled the water of immortality, which her brother had asked her to safe
guard. Stricken with remorse, the girl threw herself into the sea and became trans
formed into a Gorgon. Until this day she searches the seas , asking boatmen if her
brother is still alive. If the captain wisely answers, "He is alive, and rules, and
is master of the world, " she is appeased and calm weather prevails. But if the cap
tain answers thoughtlessly that her brother died long ago, the Gorgon becomes
frenzied and raises a storm to sink his boat (Yalouris 1 980: 20) .
Not only does this tale bear an uncanny resemblance to the Kuranko story
in which a disconsolate woman searches up and down a river for years, hoping
to be reunited with her dead lover; it also presents in inverted form the principal
elements of my poem. Whereas in the poem the brother wrongs his sister and
drowns himself in a river, his voice becoming the voice of inefectual palmbirds ,
in the Greek tale the sister ofends her brother and drowns herself in the sea, her
voice becoming the minatory voice of storms.
Every poem, like every myth, may therefore be seen as a variation of a fnite
set of universal elements, and, as Levi-Strauss has shown, structural analysis simply
reveals the interminable combinations and permutations of these elements, which
go on in the minds of men and women without their being aware of it ( see the
Overture and Finale of Mythologus 1 970, 1 98 1 ) .
As to the second question, concering the cultural and historical forms whose
shadows fall across the poem, let us consider the darkest of these: colonialism. The
anthropologist who spends time in another society, extracting raw data to bring
home and process for intellectual proft, is working within the determination of
a particular social formation whose more insidious expressions are political domina-
Th Migation of a Nam: Alxanr in Africa 1 65
tion and economic exploitation. Nevertheless , his conditioned reflex to subj ugate
the world through the exercise of willful rationality22 is often mellowed by a critical
awareness of another mode of consciousness in which conviviality and communica
tion fgure more prominently than self-aggrandisement and competitiveness. 23
Since these other values are usually those emphasized by the people among whom
anthropologists do their feldwork, they fnd themselves split between two proj ects ,
one of which will absorb them further into the community, the other of which
will estrange them. In my own case, I would, for example, excuse myself from j oin
ing in a Kuranko communal dance because I wanted to be free to take notes from
the sidel ines , and I would give priority to recording a narrative through an inter
preter rather than take time to lear the language properly so that I myself could
enter into a direct social relationship with the narrator. In my view, the two
movements-becoming a part of another community and gaining repute in the aca
demic world-are, in practice, though not necessarily in theory, mutually exclu
sive.
The opposition between these two sets of values , sociability and proftability, 24
is as much an aspect of my particular biography as it is a part of our cultural heri
tage. But this opposition is also problematic for Kuranko, and it is at this point
that my own biographical concers rej oin the ethnographic context of Kuranko
social life.
Many Kuranko oral narratives are centered upon the problem of the hero
(Jackson 1 982a: chap. 6) . Somewhat as the anthropologist ventures into the un
known in quest of knowledge, the protagonist in numerous Kuranko narratives risks
his life in a j ourey out of his community into the wilderess in quest of some
magical object-an initiation drum, a xylophone, a fetish-which gives power over
life and death to its owner. Like the data gleaned by the ethnographer when he
j oureys into a remote corer of the world, the things gained by the Kuranko hero
during his wanderings in the wilderess are ethically ambiguous: they can be used
for private advantage or made to serve the commonweal. In Kuranko narratives
this problem of reconcil ing self- interest and social duty is often dramatized as a
struggle between a good and a bad ruler. According to the Kuranko ideal , the re
spect accorded a ruler deserves to be reciprocated by the protection a ruler gives
his subj ects. The privi lege of power can only be j ustifed by responsibil ity and mag
nanimity in its use. It is a pateralistic notion of authority. A bad ruler, l ike a
bad father, uses his position of power to take advantage of those dependent on
him, even descending to theft of food, al ienation of property, and criminal ne
glect. 25 Kuranko anecdotes about Yilkanani reveal this ethical ambiguity of author
ity: the subtle diferences between dignity and vanity, pride and arrogance, and
moral and material wealth.
It is fascinating to fnd this same ambiguity in the European Alexander ro
mances. Although the ancients were often divided over whether Alexander's l iber
ality was a form of cunning and vanity or a benign and noble quality, 2
6
from Seneca
and Cicero right through into the medieval romances, as well as in the poems of
Chaucer, Lydgate, Gower, and, later, Dryden, the same themes recur: of a world
conqueror conquered by his own emotional weakness, of reason corrupted by pas-
sian, of learing ruined by moral ignorance. And time and time again, it is Alexan
der' s visit to the oracle of Ammon and his subsequent elevation to the status of
a god which is referred to as the point at which the hero' s moral deterioration be
gins ( Cary 1 956: I I 0-1 6) .
This hubris assumes its more moder form i n a story by Rudyard Kipl ing, "The
Man Who Would Be King" ( 1 888) , in which two English adventurers, Daniel
Dravot and Peachey Carehan, stumble into a remote valley in northeast Afghani
stan ( Kafristan) where a priesthood keeps ali ve the memory of Alexander the
Great. Through bluf and cunning Dravot has himself accepted as the son of Alex
ander and enthroned as king, but, contrary to the wishes of the priests, he decides
to take to wife a vi llage girl , declaring that "A God can do anything. " His arro
gance fnally costs him his crown and his l ife, and Peachey struggles back to India,
where he recounts the tragedy to Kipling. This allegory of imperialism, in which
Dravot is a kind of Cecil Rhodes, 27 reminds us that the themes of corrupt power
and colonialism are inextricably linked and that Alexander the world-conqueror
is still an embodiment of these themes. Shortly before he came to power in Ghana
as leader of the frst postcolonial nation of moder Africa, Kwame Nkrumah wrote
that the bl ight of European expansionism had its precedent in "the idea of Alexan
der the Great and his Graeco-Asiatic Empire" (Nkrumah 1 962: I ) . Ironically, only
a few years passed before Nkrumah himself was deposed for corruption and self
aggrandizement.
What I have hoped to show in these diverse refractions of a historical fgure
is that certain abiding moral dilemmas fnd expression in a narrative which knows
no cultural boundaries and recognizes no individual author. My poem participates
in this narrative, as does this chapter. One is reminded of Borges's claim that the
dream which drove a thirteenth-century Mongol ian emperor to build "a stately
pleasure dome" in Xanadu and the dream which inspired an English poet on a sum
mer's day in 1 797 were one and the same dream ( Borges 1 964: 1 6) . 28
I do not wish to make Borges' s conj ecture serve as an aesthetic j ustifcation
for a particular style of interpretation, however, for my intention here is to show
that interpretation has to be j ustifed pactcally, as a form of disclosure which works
back through autobiography to discover the points at which individuality loses it
self in the trans-subj ective processes of history, culture, and ultimately nature. But
this recognition of one's historicity should not entail a reductionist explanation,
for, whether we admit it or not, every act of cool analysis is also a creative act
initiated within our particular personality and expl icable in terms of our biography.
In my view, true obj ectivity in interpretation does not consist in repressing, mask
ing, or setting aside this biographical feld of choice and intention but in reveal ing
it clearly as it interacts with history, producing new syntheses in the shape of a
poem, an essay, or even a revolutionary act. 29 This therapeutic aspect of the herme
neutic process is shown by my discovery that a poem I seemed to write uncon
sciously was in fact a logj am of images to keep me from reading the real preoccupa
tions of my unconscious: an unresolved moral dilemma over the exercise of power,
the value of ambition, and the proftability of knowledge. If the poem was written
Th Migation of a Name: Alxandr in Afrca 1 67
i n bad faith-fetishized as an obj ect which I did not have a hand i n making-then
the interpretive "reading" of the poem is a kind of redemption. The so-called obj ect
is brought back into subj ectivity only to be made over again to the world of obj ec
tivity, but this time as something which expresses rather than represses the author's
efective history.
In this dialectic, self-refection and scholarly study, creativity and interpreta
tion, arise together and are united. Fr me, this process of reuniting aspects of our
being which are habitually fragmented is a form of making whole, of healing. 30
And I have sought a form of writing which unites the poet and the ethnographer
in one script, which merges the poetic and ethnographic in a single style, and
which follows the hermeneutical example of Gadamer: "to see through the dogma
tism of asserting an opposition and separation between the ongoing natural 'tradi
tion' and the refective appropriation of it" ( 1 976: 28) . It is in this sense that my
quest for Yilkanani , which began in a town in norther Sierra Leone in 1 969, was
ecl ipsed by a wider search for Alexander and became fnally a j ourey into that
region where history and biography converge.
An anthropology which so forthrightly reflects upon the interplay of biography
and tradition and makes the personal ity of the anthropologist a primary datum en
tails a diferent notion of truth than that to which a scientistic anthropology as
pires. It is a notion of truth based less upon epistemological certainties than upon
moral , aesthetic, and political values. 3 1 It is, indeed, a pragmatist notion of truth
in which, rather than reduce experience to abstract categories by a process of sys
tematic total ization, we seek to disclose the complex and open-ended character
of experience and the role interpretation plays in the process of self-making. 32 It
is a conception of the anthropological proj ect which leads us directly to a concer
with the way we say things , for we become less interested in announcing defnitive
explanations than in opening up new possibilities for thinking about experience.
Richard Rorty uses the term edifcation for thi s process "of fnding new, better, more
interesting, more fruitful ways of speaking" ( 1 979: 360) . While edifcation "may
consist in the hermeneutic activity of making connections between our own culture
and some exotic culture or historical period, or between our own discipline and
another discipl ine, " Rorty notes that "it may instead consist in the 'poetic' activity
of thinking up such new aims , new words, or new disciplines, followed by, so to
speak, the inverse of hermeneutics: the attempt to reinterpret our famil iar sur
roundings in the unfamil iar terms of our new inventions. " Edifing discourse is
"supposed to be abnormal , to take us out of our old selves by the power of strange
ness , to aid us in becoming new beings" ( 360) .
For more than a decade now it has been clear that cultural anthropology is
developing as much through the innovation of new styles of discourse as through
continuing empirical research. We are nowadays more confdent about speaking
of anthropology as a kind of phi losophizing or writing and no longer need the trap
pings of the natural sciences to bestow legitimacy on what we do. Unlike many
other social scientists, anthropologists are fortunate in having to hand a wealth
of exotic images, world views, and metaphors. Rather than assimilating these ele-
ments to our own familiar metaphors (where kinship is a "web" or "network" and
groups undergo "fssion" and "fusion") , it is often proving more edifing to use and
extend indigenous metaphors in novel ways, participating in rather than subverting
the discursive idioms to which our researches introduce us.
Moreover, we are now more keenly aware that the texts generated by the dis
cursive practices of cultural anthropology are embedded in a wider cultural and
historical milieu and that our essays in explanation are in this sense on a par wi th
the ritual and mythological "texts" we collect in the feld. We no longer assume
that our texts have some kind of intrinsic epistemological superiority over thirs.
All are, in the fnal consideration, metaphors, more or less masked, for an existen
tial quest for meaning, and anthropology, l ike philosophy, is, in Nietzsche's famous
phrase, "a species of involuntary and unconscious autobiography" ( 1 973: 1 0) .
This Nietzschean perspective also pervades the work of Michel Foucault, who
regards all discourses as available perspectives: "if one has more value than another
that is not because of its intrinsic properties as ' truth, ' or because we call it ' sci
ence, ' but because of an extra-epistemological ground, the rl the discourse plys
in constituting pactices " ( Poster 1 984: 8s , my emphasis ) .
Not only do I fnd this view congenial on temperamental grounds; i t com
mends itself as coming very close to articulating the Kuranko view that the practi
cal, social , and moral consequences of discourse defne its truth-value, not abstract
epistemological rules. JJ Perhaps this pragmatist point can best be made by consider
ing the character of Kuranko narrative.
Although the anecdotes and legends about Yilkanani belong to a "true" tradi
tion of discourse which the Kuranko call kuma kore, "ancestral words, " there is an
other genre of Kuranko narrative which falls halfay between truth and make
believe. These narratives, which we might call folktales, are told on moonlit nights
in the vil lages by skilled performers before a random audience of men, women,
and children. Many of these narratives pose a moral di lemma which everyone pres
ent will try to solve, and these intervals of casuistry are half the fun of a storytelling
session.
What impressed me about Kuranko storytelling was the way in which old and
young alike participated actively in a search for moral meaning. Seldom were these
meanings self-evident, for the art of Kuranko narrative is to mask or nullif the
orthodox rules which people use in forming moral j udgements. Accordingly, each
individual must arrive at his or her own solution to the quandary and refer to his
or her own experience in doing so. Although the unanimity reached by the end
of an evening belies the variability of opinions brought forward, the most important
point is that consensus is reached through participation rather than imposed by
convention. In other words , the truth fnally agreed upon reflects less an interest
in making truth accord with individual experience than in making it a vehicle for
communal action. The therapeutic character of Kuranko storytelling does not,
therefore, stem from the self-reflection which narratives may inspire but from the
convivial occasion they create. For the Kuranko, interpretive activity is a tool for
convivial ity ( I llich 1 973)-a means of communication-and as such it is not eval
uated primarily in terms of literal or logical standards. 34
Th Migation of a Nam: Alxand in Afica 1 69
In this chapter I have not eschewed these standards, but I have tried to show
that ethical , aesthetic, and practical standards are of no less importance in interpre
tation. And I hope also to have told a story, a story whose unfolding refects fortu
itous encounters and happy coincidences , yet is still only half-told and open to
further possibilities of interpretation and invention.
ELEVEN
On Eth nogra phic Tr uth
Kurt Vonnegut majored in anthropology at the University of Chicago j ust after the
end of World War I I . Twenty-three years later, in Slaughterhouse s, he recalled the
relativistic spirit of the courses he took there: "At that time, they were teaching
that there was absolutely no diference between anybody . . . . Another thing they
taught was nobody was ridiculous or bad or disgusting. "
This humanistic attitude did not, however, he'lp Vonnegut when he submitted
his master's thesis, "Fluctuations between Good and Evil in Simple Tales , " for ex
amination in the Department of Anthropology. It was unanimously rej ected.
Vonnegut dropped out of anthropology, worked for a while as a public relations
offcial for General Electric in Schenectady, then as a free- lance writer. Then,
twenty-fve years after fail ing to gain his master's degree in anthropology at Chi
cago, Vonnegut was awarded an honorary degree by the same university for his
contributions to the feld of anthropology. These contributions were, however, not
ethnographic monographs or empirical fndings, but novels, in particular a satirical
science fction called Cat ' s Crale ( 1 963) , which returs to the theme of his fai led
dissertation-the ambiguity of good and evi l-through an account of a make
believe West Indian religion called Bokononism. Bokonon is amused by the prob
lem of truth. He tells his followers not to bel ieve a word he says. The frst sentence
of Th Books of Bkonon reads: "All of the true things I am about to tell you are
shameless lies. " Vonnegut adds: "My Bokonist waring is this: Anyone unable to
understand how a useful religion can be founded on lies will not understand this
book either" ( 1 963: I 6) . Elsewhere he writes, "Nothing in this book is true, " and
confesses: "I j ust have trouble understanding how truth, all by itself, could be
enough for a person. "
I frst read Cat ' s Crale in Melboure in 1 963. A Jamaican friend, Patrick John
son, loaned me his copy to read. Sometime between then and now I am sure I
read a Caribbean ethnography which gave details of a religious cult centered on
a prophet called Bokonon. However, all the critical works on Vonnegut that I have
consulted refer to Bokonon as a fctional fgure and Bokononism as an invented
religion. I have searched for that Caribbean ethnography in vain, cursed myself
for not having made a note of the one detail which might now prove the critics
wrong and Vonnegut slyly right, which would make Cat ' s Crale-as the title itself
suggests-a kind of ethnographic science fction. At the moment, however, writing
this, I do not know what to believe, what the facts are, who is tell ing the truth.
We have here a series of ironies: a prestigious North American university con-
On Ethnogaphic Tuth 1 7 1
fers a degree in anthropology on a writer of fction; the novel which is accepted
as his dissertation, Cat' s Crale, is about a West Indian prophet who claims that
truths are l ies and l ies are truths; Bokononism, which is generally regarded as
Vonnegut's creation, may in fact exist. These ironies defne the subj ect of this
chapter: the vexed issue of whether cultural anthropology is a hard science or more
akin to literature; whether it is built on the sol id ground of impartial observations
and empirically tested views or the shifting sands of rhetoric, history, and subj ectiv
ity; whether, in a nutshell, its modes of understanding human social l ife are true
or false.
These questions also bring us back to the beginning of this book, where I dis
cussed the diferent emphases of humanist and empiricist anthropology. My
approach to these seemingly opposed traditions-the frst which seeks what is exis
tentially common to all human beings, the second which researches what is ethno
graphically particular-follows the example of Michel Fucault. Rather than at
tempt to resolve the dilemma over whether anthropology is in essence l iterature
or science-whether its truths are invented or found, fctional or factual-1 propose
to explore the conditions under which these antinomies make their appearance
and gain currency, to account for why they are presently of such pressing concer
to us and what produces the deep disquiet and bruising debate among us over the
identity of our discourse.
Such an approach implies that merely classifing discursive styles in terms of
essential diferences is a rather futile and unedifying thing to do. My ai m, therefore,
will be to disclose the dialectical interplay of this disjunctive mode of reasoning,
which orders the world in terms of linked pairs of polar opposites ( true/false, fact/
fction, science/art) , and a conj unctive mode of reasoning characterized by a quest
for similitudes , resemblances, and unity.
ANA L OGY
If there is any mode of thought common to all people, in all societies, at all periods
of history, it is analogy. 1 Analogy, as Keynes observed, encompasses both "positive"
and "negative" comparison, the identifcation of similarities an diferences be
tween the things compared ( I 92 I ) . The ubiquity and scope of reasoning by analogy
make it a useful point of departure in our attempt to account for the perceived
similarities and diferences not only between anthropological science and anthro
pological literature, or modem and primitive thought, but between the thought
of anthropologists and the thought of the people they study.
In Les mots et les chases ( I 966) , Foucault discusses at length a hiatus in Euro
pean thought in the early seventeenth century. In the sixteenth century, and for
a long time before, knowledge was principally a matter of discovering similitudes
in the order of things. "To search for a meaning is to bring to l ight a resemblance.
To search for the law govering signs is to discover the things that are alike . . . .
The nature of things, their coexistence, the way in which they are linked together
and communicate is nothing other than their resemblance" ( I 970: 29) . Within this
tangled "semantic web" of resemblances which constituted knowledge in Wester
culture, Fucault identifes four main forms of similitude. First, convenientia, in
which things are supposed to be alike because they occur together or occupy the
same space. Here are two examples, the frst from Porta's Magie naturelle ( I 6so) ,
the second from my own Kuranko ethnography:
As with respect to its vegetation the plant stands convenient to the brte beast, so
through feel ing does the brutish animal to man, who is conforable to the rest of the
stars by his intell igence; these l inks proceed so strictly that they appear a a rpe
stretched frm the frst cause a far a the lowest an smllest of things, by a reciprocal and
continuous connection; in such wise that the superior virtue, spreading its beams,
reaches so far that if we touch one extremity of tht cor it will make it tremble and move
all the rest. (Ci ted by Foucault 1 970: 1 9, my emphasis)
The interdependence of members of the community or of a family may be expressed
in terms of the network of ropes which are tied over the rice fars when the crop
is nearing maturity. One end of the rope is always tied to the foot of the bird-scaring
platform where the children sit with sl ingshots and keep birds from scavenging the
rice. When this main rope is tugged, all the tributary ropes shake. This scares away
the birds. It is sometimes said that "one's birth is l ike the bird-scaring rope" ( soron
i le ko yagbayile) , or "one's birth is like a chain" ( soron i l k yolke) because one's fate
is always inextricably tied to the fate of others. (Jackson I 98:a: I 6-1 7)
Foucault's second mode of simil itude is aemulatio, the relation of emulation
whereby things mirror or "imitate one another fom one end of the universe to
the other without connection or proximity" ( I 970: I9 ) . Paracelsus l ikened this rela
tion to the relation between identical twins; one could never be said to be the
original and the other merely a duplicate or reflection. An ethnographic example
of aemulatio is immediately suggested by this image of twinship.
The Nuer assert "that twins are one person and that they are birds" . . . because twins
and birds, though for diferent reasons, are both associated with Spirit and this makes
twins, like birds, "people of the above" and "chi ldren of God, " and hence a bird a
suitable symbol in which to express the special relationship in which a twin stands
to God. " . . . "In respect to God twins and birds have a similar character. " ( Evans
Pritchard 1 956: n8, I J I -J:)
A third mode of similitude i s analog, whereby the microcosm i s shown t o cor
respond in every detail to the macrocosm. "Man' s body is always the possible half
of a universal atlas , " his flesh is glebe, his bones are rocks, his veins great rivers,
his bladder the sea, and his seven principal organs the metals hidden in the shafts
of mines ( Foucault I 970: 22, referring to Crollius' s Tri te ds signatures) . The Dogan
of Mali provide a contemporary ethnographic example of this painstaking elucida
tion of correspondence between the human body and the body of the world. Ac
cording to Genevieve Calame-Griaule, the Dogan conceive the world in its totality
as a gigantic human organism, and parts of the Dogan world reproduce this image
on a greater or lesser scale ( I 965: 27) . Thus the vi llage is conceptualized as a per
son, lying north-south, the smithy at his head, shrines at his feet, and the Dogan
O Ethnogaphic Trth 1 73
house is an anthropomorphic representation of a man lying on his side and procre
ating ( Griaule I 954: 95-8) . Moreover, a regular geology of the human body is rec
ognized by the Dogon, for whom diferent kinds of minerals correspond to diferent
bodily organs, various earths being organs "within the belly, " rocks being assimi
lated to the "bones" of the skeleton, and a family of red clays made to represent
the blood. Diferent rocks and stones stand for diferent parts of the body, so that
one rock balanced on another is the "chest" and small white river pebbles are
"toes. " The Dogon also maintain that each of these phenomenal correspondences
"speaks" to man, auguring or signifing something which must be deciphered if man
is to flourish. Thus, words are likened to grain, speech to germination, and divina
tion to winnowing. And body parts have analogues in parts of the grain ( heart
cotyledon, nose germ, and so on) as well as in intonations of the voice
( Calame-Griaule I 965 : 27-57 ) .
Fucault's fourth mode of similitude, sympathy, i s really a corollary of the other
modes, as is suggested by the Dogon view that things which are analogous also infu
ence one another. Foucault takes an example from Porta's Mage naturelle, where it
is observed that mouring roses which have been used at obsequies can, simply
from their former adj acency with death, render all persons who smell them "sad
and moribund" ( Foucault I 970: 23 ) . Sympathy, which transforms things "in the di
rection of identity, " is, however, complemented by its twin, antipathy, which
"maintains the isolation of things" ( 24) . Anthropologists are famil iar with these
notions in the form of sympathetic magic and pollution beliefs. Among the
Kuranko, pregnant women sometimes bind a strip of antelope skin around their
wrists so that the children they bear will be imbued with the antelope' s litheness
and grace. Among the Fang of Gabon, squirrels are prohibited for pregnant women
because squirrels shelter in holes of trees and a future mother who ate their fesh
would run the risk of the fetus imitating the squirrel and refusing to leave the
uterus. As Tessmann notes: "The worst danger threatening pregnant women is from
animals who live or are caught in any sort of hole ( in the ground, in trees) . One
can positively speak of a horor vacui. If a pregnant woman eats an animal of this
kind, the child might also want to stay in its hole, ' in the belly, ' and a difcult
birth is to be expected" ( quoted in Levi-Strauss I 966a:6 I ) .
The sixteenth-century episteme was characterized by what Fucault calls a
"teeming abundance of resemblances" ( I 970: 26)-limitless, plethoric, and indis
criminate. This preoccupation with similitudes, analogies, and correspondences
had two important consequences.
In the frst place, our contrasted notions of "magic" and "science" had little
currency in the sixteenth century. Observations and discoveries that we would rec
ognize as "scientifc" were made, to be sure, but they were often accidental or inci
dental to the overriding passion for divining the interal harmonies of the world.
Consider this observation fom Belon's Histoire de l nature des oiseaux ( I 555 ) ,
which l ikens the wing of a bird to the human hand: "the pinion called the appendix
which is in proportion to the wing and in the same place as the thumb on the
hand; the extremity of the pinion which is l ike the fngers in us . . . " ( quoted
in Foucault I 970: 22) . It so happens that these correspondences between the wing
of a bird and the upper limb of a human being provide an excellent example of
what biologists call homology, an organic or structural connection which derives
from a simi lar phylogenetic prototype, that is, a connection which reveals common
descent ( Gould I 987) . But Belon's comparative anatomy was neither "scientifc"
nor "magical . " It was j ust one of the innumerable correspondences which the world
revealed to the fascinated human mind, no more or less signifcant than the con
nection assumed, say, between apoplexy and storms ( Foucault I 970: 22-23 ) .
One is reminded strongly of Taoist thinkers whose mystical desire to see into
the unity of nature led, almost inadvertently, to alchemical experimentation, a
healthy skepticism toward preconceived theories, disinterested observations of the
natural world, a search for hidden causes, and what we would now call an attitude
of "scientifc natural ism" which brought the Taoists "intuitively to the roots of sci
ence" ( Ronan I 978: 95 ) . Joseph Needham draws an analogy between the Taoists
and Paracelsus ( I 49 3-I 54 I ) :
Standard-bearer of alchemy applied to medicine, proponent, against all opposition, of
mineral drugs, frst observer of the occupational diseases of miners, he was an experi
mentalist and a theoretician. . . . Paracelsus had much in common with the Taoists.
Indeed it can be shown that his alchemical medicine derived ultimately fom the elixir
concept of China mediated through Arabic and Byzantine culture. ( Ronan 1 978: 1 04)
It is because the thought which we sometimes disparage as "mystical" or "magi
cal" usually goes hand in hand with experimentation and exhaustive observations
of the natural world that Levi-Strauss argues that it must be regarded as a diferent
but parallel mode of scientifc thought. This "science of the concrete, " through
its meticulous and methodical classifcation of things on the basis of similitudes
and sensible properties (hard/soft, sweet/sour, long/short, and so on) makes possi
ble, albeit inadvertently, discoveries of a practical and theoretical kind:
Not all poisonous j uices are buring or bitter nor is everything which is buring and
bitter poisonous. Nevertheless , nature is so constituted that it is more advantageous
if thought and action proceed as though this aesthetically satisfing equivalence also
corresponded to obj ective reality. It seems probable . . . that species possessing some
remarkable characteristics, say, of shape, colour or smel l give the observer what might
be called a "right pending disproof" to postulate that these visible characteristics are
the sign of equally singular, but concealed, properties. To treat the relation between
the two as itself sensible ( regarding a seed in the form of a tooth as a safeguard against
snake bites, yellow j uices as a cure for bil ious troubles, etc. ) is of more value provision
ally than indiference to any connection. ( Levi-Strauss 1 966a: 1 5-1 6)
A second important consequence of the sixteenth-century preoccupation with
resemblances was a fervor for divining and deciphering the system of signatures
which were their visible form. As in hermetic philosophy, where the natural world
was spoken of as the "book of God" (Needleman I 975: 6) , the sixteenth-century
episteme saw the world as bristl ing with signs, blazons, omens, and fgures, that
is to say, a a text. Erudition was a matter of making the signs speak, of elucidating
O Ethnogaphic Trth 1 75
their cryptic meanings, of revealing the laws which govered the connections be
tween them. Renaissance knowledge was, in a word, interpretive -a palimpsest
of hermeneutical and semiological styles ( Foucault 1 970: 25-30) .
ME AS UR E ME N T AN D DI F F E R E NCE
In the early seventeenth century, the quest for synthetic resemblances began to
give way to analytical methods for establishing identity and diference. In Galileo' s
work intelligibil ity is sought through deductive reasoning-an abstract mathemati
zation of the world (mthesis universalis )rather than through the confsing testi
mony of the senses. Descartes attacked the indiscriminate habit of seeing resem
blances everywhere and losing sight of essential diferences. The "proper order of
things" could only be worked out through rational means , such as mathematics
and geometry:
Those long chains of reasoning, simple and easy as they are, of which geometricians
make use in order to arrive at the most diffcult demonstrations, had caused me to
imagine that all those things which fall under the cognizance of man might very likely
to be related in the same fashion. ( 1 93 1 : 92, originally published 1 637)
As reason i s separated from the senses, s o man, the rational subj ect, becomes
split from nature. The exteral world of nature and the inner world of instincts
and passions are now to be mastered, subdued, and ordered by the rational wi ll.
The "central concer must be to keep the emotions from biasing j udgements"
( Horkheimer 1 947: 1 07) . Nature is a resistance to be overcome, something to be
dominated with mind rather than enjoyed with the senses ( Marcuse 1 969: 96-) .
I t is because Enl ightenment thinkers regarded nature as an obj ect that man
examines and dominates frm a distnce that they sought to abol ish mythical and
magical modes of thought. Such modes of thought, with their emphasis on simili
tudes, afnities, and sympathies between man and nature, were anathema to the
new scientists such as Francis Bacon, partly because they were often still deeply
infuenced by magical , alchemical , and hermetic traditions. 2
The eforts of the new scientists to expunge anthropomorphism from their dis
course3 had repercussions for the ways in which they regarded primitive peoples.
The separation of reason fom afect, man from nature, entai led a greater emphasis
on the diferences between educated Europeans and people thought to exist in a
state of nature. Writing in the 1 5 70s, Montaigne spoke in relativistic terms about
the South American Indians he had met:
I do not believe, from what I have been told about this people, that there is anything
barbarous or savage about them, except that we all call barbarous anything that is con
trary to our own habits. Indeed we seem to have no other criterion of truth and reason
than the type and kind of opinions and customs current in the land where we live.
. . . We are j ustifed . . . in calling these people barbarians by reference to the laws
of reason, but not in comparison with ourselves, who surpass them in every kind of
barbarity. ( On Cannibal)
Ninety years later, in his Essays on the Lw of Nature, John Locke admitted
only absolute diferences between civilized and primitive men:
anyone who consults the histories both of the old world and new world, or the itinerar
ies of travel lers, wi l l easily observe how far apart from virtue the morals of these people
are, what strangers they are to any humane feel ings, since nowhere else is there such
doubtful honesty, so much treachery, such frightful cruelty in that they sacrifce to
the gods and also to their tutelary spirit by kill ing people and ofering kindred blood.
And no one wi ll believe that the law of nature is best known and observed among
these primitive and untutored tribes, since among most of them there appears not the
sl ightest trace or track of piety, merciful feel ing, fdel i ty, chastity, and the rest of the
virtues; but rather they spend their life wretchedly among robberies, thefts, debauche
ries, and murders. ( 1 954: 1 4 1 )
H I S TORY AN D C R I T I QU E
The very possibil ity of drawing contrasts, as Foucault does, between Renaissance
and Enl ightenment thought reflects a mode of discourse whose notion of order is
based neither upon the perception of simil itudes between microcosm and macro
cosm nor upon the privileged status of the rational subj ect. Its foundation is his
tory, a sense that human conceptions of both order an reason, and even the ap
pearance and disappearance of the human subj ect, are determined historically and
grounded in the circumstances of social life. It is the episteme of the nineteenth
century, of Hegel , Marx, Darwin, and Nietzsche-a unifying motif despite argu
ments over whether history is a structured whole or open-ended, or whether or
not truth is inevitably relative to time and circumstance. It is also the episteme
of the social sciences and anthropology, despite the ahistorical tenor of fnctional
ism and the refusal of structuralism to address history except as "mere contingency. "
I t is the episteme i n which we are still caught up, despite ourselves, and for that
reason comprehend with diffculty ( Foucault I 970: 22 I ) .
Reviewing the historical mutability of discourse, I am also mindful that no
one episteme ever completely supersedes another. The historical matrix in which
our present discourse is embedded contains other discursive styles and strategies,
and makes use of them. Despite Foucault's persuasive arguments for great disconti
nuities at the beginning of the seventeenth century and in the last years of the
eighteenth century, there is abundant evidence of epistemic pluralism and ample
room for reference to the individual subj ects who negotiated the no-man' s land
between the diferent styles. As Foucault himself notes elsewhere, "the episteme
is not a motionless fgure that appeared one day with a mission of efacing all that
preceded it" ( I 972: I 92) ; it impl ied, as Cassirer insists , a shift in "the ideal center
of gravity of all philosophy"-new trends that coexist with rather than supplant
the old ( I 95 I : 33) . In the work of Bodin and Montaigne, as we have seen, the
importance attached to reason in the individual life anticipates the Enl ightenment,
while in the seventeenth century scientists such as Bacon and Newton often fall
back upon magical thought while, at the same time, seeking to reconcile natural
O Ethnogahic Truth 1 7 7
phi losophy with divine authority. 4 Clearly, science does not of necessity bring
about the demise of rel igion. Alchemical and physiological imagery abounds in ra
tional economic discourse to this day ( markets "crash, " "hemorrhage, " "hurt , " are
"volatile" or "nervous" and sufer "wounds") . Nor does reason foreshadow the end
of poetry. And despite attempts by the philosophes to expunge mythical thought
fom their well-reasoned treatises, anthropomorphism and magic continue to per
vade the European consciousness. Rather than erase the hermeneutical and semio
logical modes of thinking characteristic of the Renaissance, the Enlightenment
ecl ipses them. There is, so to speak, a shift in the balance of power among discur
sive formations which brings one to the fore by occluding others, often displacing
or relegating them to an alien category. In this way, the Enlightenment made rea
son not only its privileged episteme but a defning characteristic of the socil el ite to
which its thinkers belonged or to which they aspired; anthropomorphism, the pas
sions and instincts , as well as the bodily life in general, were systematically dis
placed onto peasants, savages, and women. 5 "Truth" was thus a fnction of power.
The polarization of science and art, reason and myth, fact and fction, which
arises in the seventeenth century and persists to this day, is both historically an
dialectically inevitable. Just as Bacon celebrated science through a condemnation
of magic and alchemy and Descartes extolled reason by denouncing the indiscrimi
nate search for magical analogies , so many scholars nowadays are troubled by the
interpenetration of what they see as antithetical discourses. But the deep disquiet
felt by many scientists over the invasion of their domain by fctional and interpre
tive styles is, l ike the traditionally defensive attitude of artists toward science, good
evidence that these discourses can never really isolate themselves from each other.
Though they vie for dominance, perhaps, l ike quarreling lovers, the truth is that
they cannot exist without each other.
T H E F I E L D OF AN T H ROP OL OGY
The disquiet I have alluded to-and the epistemic plural ism from which it arises
pervades contemporary anthropology and lies behind the recent so-called Freeman
Mead controversy. The caval ier dismissal of Derek Freeman's Samoan research
fndings ( Freeman 1 983) by so many anthropologists and the distorted views of his
work as "sociobiology" and "scientism" (Cl iford 1 986a: 1 o2) undoubtedly reflect
the current vogue for exploring ethnography as a literary genre and even declaring
ethnographies to be fctions (Cl iford 1 986a: 6; Leach 1 987: 1 7 ) . Replacing "reason"
with the notion of "meaning, " anthropologists such as Geertz invoke hermeneutics
and rhetoric to blur the distinctions between science and art, a move which, in
anthropology, risks encouraging the production of bad science and bad art. Others
hypostatize science on the one hand, and literary-cum- interpretive styles of dis
course on the other, adopting a tone of intolerance and derogation when speaking
of the category with which they do not identif. Consider, for example, these ex
cerpts from two books publ ished in 1 986, the frst unrelentingly hermeneutical,
the second rigidly analytical:
Evocation-that is to say, "ethnography"-is the discourse of the post-modem world,
for the world that made science, and that science made, has disappeared, and scientifc
thought is now an archaic mode of consciousness surviving for a while yet in degraded
form without the ethnographical context that created and sustained it. (Tyler
1 986: 1 23)
Hence anthropology was exhorted to renege on its scientifc delusions and t o adopt
instead the wishy-washy style of hereneutic interpretation which was to become the
hallmark of humanistic explanation. It was lef to Malinowski to lead an obscurantist
crusade against a nascent scientifc social anthropology. ( De Meur r 986: vi i i )
I have already expressed the opinion that it is futile to try to decide what an
thropology in essence is or should be. Anthropology is in history, and history is in
it. It is for this reason that any attempt to understand the contending viewpoints
over the status of anthropological knowledge must begin with the ways this dis
course is grounded in history and social circumstance.
First, let us remember that anthropology is part of the Enlightenment tradi
tion. As Horkheimer and Adoro observe ( 1 972) , however, the Enlightenment
quest to dominate nature through the exercise of scientifc rationality necessarily
entails hierarchy, repression, and coercion. 6 Reason is opposed to irrationality, ob
j ectivity to subj ectivity, science to art, and nature-together with those categories
of humanity identifed with nature-becomes an obj ect of colonization, subj uga
tion, and exploitation. Here is Levi-Strauss's merci less description of the relation
ship between anthropology and colonialism:
Anthropology is not a dispassionate science like astronomy, which springs fom the
contemplation of things at a distance. It is the outcome of an historical process which
has made the larger part of mankind subservient to the other, and during which mil
l ions of innocent human beings have had their resources plundered and their institu
tions and beliefs destroyed, whilst they themselves were ruthlessly killed, thrown into
bondage, and contaminated by diseases they were unable to resist. Anthropology is
the daughter to this era of violence. It capacity to assess more objectively the facts perwin
ing to the humn condition refects, on the epistemological level, a swge of afairs in which
on part of mnkind treats the other as an object. ( r 966b: r 26, emphasis added)
The tristesse that pervades this passage leads us at once to the second maj or
theme in anthropological discourse, one which stresses the other not as estranged
from us through a lack of reason or a closer identifcation with nature but as our
coeval-our sister, our brother, ourselves. This romantic notion, which can be
traced back to the Italian Renaissance, fnds expression in von Humboldt, Diderot,
Goethe, Rousseau, and Marx. In i ts emphasis on communitas over hierarchy, the
creative individual over the technicist, it implies a utopian vision of human associ
ation and unity transcending diference and division ( Lukes 1 973: 67-72) .
I n Levi-Strauss this romantic ideal i s contrasted with the instrumental ratio
nality that accompanies all forms of social domination. Tristes trpiques i s, as Derrida
notes, a kind of supplement to Diderot and Rousseau, "an episode of what may
be called the anthropological war, the essential confrontation that opens communi-
On Ethnogahic Tuth 1 79
cation between peoples and cultures, even when that communication is not practised
under the banner of colonial or missionary oppression" ( I 976: I 07, emphasis
added) . As Levi-Strauss observes toward the end of Tristes trpiques, however, it
is the "mal igned" and "misunderstood" Rousseau, not Diderot, who is his exemplar.
The psychic unity of humankind is best demonstrated through empirical observa
tions of others , a procedure which will help build not a utopian society but a perfect
model of society ( I 973: 390-9I ) . In this sense, romantic and rationalist ideals are
reconciled in Levi-Strauss, which may account for why so many admire him for
his humanism even when they abhor the formalism of his structural analysis.
The second point to be made about the historically constituted character of
anthropology brings us back to Foucault. As we have seen, anthropologists are,
often without real izing it, heir to a plethora of discursive styles and paradigms. Fl
lowing Foucault, and for the sake of argument, I have reduced them to three and
characterized them in terms of their emphases on similitude, diference, and his
tory. The frst episteme, prevalent in the sixteenth century, focused on sensible
and sympathetic resemblances. Its anthropomorphic emphasis contrasts dramati
cally with the seventeenth-century scientifc bias toward rational measurement,
identity, and diference. Historicity defnes a third episteme, one which makes pos
sible the emergence of the human sciences in the nineteenth century and enables
us to trace out a dialectic in which the other epistemes are counterpointed, produc
ing in anthropology a tension between analytical methods and models comparable
to those of the natural sciences and hermeneutical or semiological modes of knowl
edge often reminiscent of magic and poetics. 7
Before endeavoring to explain the epistemic shifts which grant diferential
truth values, powers , and privileges to diferent modes of knowledge at diferent
times, I want to examine in more detail the way anthropology reveals in its ways
of making comparisons these diferent discursive traditions.
First, let us consider the exciting laboratory studies made in the late I 96os
and early I 970s on the acquisition and use of "sign languages" among nonhuman
primates (Gardner and Gardner I 969; Premack I 97I ) . The emotions and hopes
which researchers invested in their chimpanzees and gorillas ( they often raised
them fom early infancy) may account for the tendency of some to see humanlike
intentions and conceptual skills which, in the view of other scientists, could not ,
for neurophysiological reasons, be present i n apes ( Sebeok and Sebeok I 98o) . I n
other words, the close mutul bonds formed between researchers and apes may have
led some anthropologists into the pathetic fallacy of proj ecting human motivations
and sentiments onto their experimental animals. Whether or not apes can manipu
late signs to spontaneously create new meanings and enj oy conversations with hu
mans is thus an open question. Clearly, there is a discursive tension here between
notions of simil itude and diference, sympathy and detachment, with regard to
both language use and cognition. 8
Second, I want to refect a little on the sign language of anthropology itself,
especially the way we use analogy. That analogy is fndamental to our discourse
goes wi thout saying. But are the analogies we draw between society and an organ
ism ( fnctionalism) , a language ( structuralism) , or a text ( poststructuralism)
founded upon fact or fction? Does our discourse correspond to obj ective reality
or is it, like the mythopoeic discourse which Bacon wanted to purge from science,
pervaded by fortuitous and "merely apparent" analogies , "curious resemblances,
such as the writers on natural magic . . . are everywhere parading" and replete with
"similitudes and sympathies that have no reality" ( Bacon 1 905 : 334-335 ) ? Con
sider the following passage from Radclife-Brown, who defned anthropology in
positivist terms as a branch of comparative sociology, the aim of which was to ar
rive at "acceptable generalisations" through the systematic "observation, descrip
tion, comparison and classifcation" of "the process of social life" ( 1 952: 1 -3 ) :
The concept of organic fnction i s one that i s used to refer to the connection between
the structure of an organism and the life process of that organism. The processes that
go on within a human body while it is living are dependent on the organic structure.
It is the function of the heart to pump blood through the body . . . . if the heart ceases
to perform its function the life process comes to an end and the structure as a living
strcture also comes to an end. . . .
In reference to social systems and their theoretical understanding one way of using
the concept of fnction is the same as its scientifc use in physiology. It can be used
to refer to the interconnection between the social strcture and the process of social
l ife. It is this use of the word fnction that seems to me to make it a useful ter in
comparative sociology. ( 1 2 , emphasis added)
This kind of analogy between the human body and the social body can be
traced back to the Presocratics ( Lloyd 1 966: 232-7 1 ) and is directly comparable to
the vitalist and anthropomorphic notions of primitive people. It is certainly not
typical of the scientifc rationality of the seventeenth century, when the organic
metaphor was superseded by physical imagery and nature and society were seen not
as organisms but as automata and machines ( Brown 1 977: 1 39) .
Let us now tur to the work of an anthropologist directly influenced by
Radcl ife- Brown: Meyer Frtes. 9 In The Web of Kinship among the Tallnsi ( I 949) ,
as the title itself suggests , Frtes sustains an image of Tale social life a s a "fabric"
with a warp and a woof. There are "networks" of "ramifing ties , " ties "interwoven
to form an elaborate mesh, " "flaments of cognatic kinship, " while, through mar
riage, "new threads of kinship are spun, " groups "knit together, " and extraclan kin
ship ties "woven into the l ineage fabric. " This elaborate analogy between a society
and woven cloth is not, however, drawn by the Tallensi themselves, for whom kin
ship is "the power of procreation"--;am-a word derived from the verb d;, "to
bear or beget a child. " "If people say 'we are d;am, the basic analogy they have
in mind is that of siblings" ( 1 949: I 6-1 9) .
Why does Frtes avoid the use of organic imagery i n his study of Tale kinship,
especially when this imagery is central to structural-functionalist discourse a well
a to the Tale way of conceiving kinship relationships in their own society ? Frtes does
use organic imagery in his account of Tale clanship, speaking of a "morphology
of the social body, " of "intestinal dissensions, " "segmentation, " social units "l ike
cells" ( 1 945: 232) and describing the lineage system as "the skeleton of their social
structure, the bony framework which shapes their body politic" ( 1 945: 30) . Yet here
O Ethnogaphic Truth 181
again the anthropologist's trope does not tally with native discourse, where a l in
eage is spoken of as the "house" (yir) or the "children" (biis ) of its founding ancestor,
and a l ineage "segment" as a "room" (dug) within the "house" ( I 949: I O-I I ) .
Despite Fortes's observation that "metaphors are proverbially treacherous"
( I 945: 23 I ) , it is possible to see a consistent principle govering his choice of
tropes: an avoidance of any overlap or fsion between Tallensi discourse and his
own. It is as if the would-be scientist feels he must simultaneously maintain a social
and epistemological distance from those he studies, distinguishing their hermeneu
tic, with its surfei t of animistic correspondences, from his rational , disinterested
analysis. Moreover, a "scientifc" account must, in Radclife- Brown's view, move
from the ideographic to the nomothetic, that is, it has to transcend the immediate,
phenomenal level of social life in order to arrive at "acceptable general proposition"
( Radclife- Brown I 952: I ) .
The very real difculty of proving that Newtonian or Einsteinian laws exist
in the social world has not, of course, prevented anthropologists from interpreting
social life in terms of laws. The question is, do we really need to bel ieve that the
regularities and systems we come up with correspond to how the world actually
is, in the way our image in a mirror corresponds to who we really are ? Do we have
to believe that our representations of the world "are not merely ours but its own,
as it looks to itself, as it would describe itself if it could" ( Rorty I 982 : I 94) ? And,
if we abandon the bel ief that our scientifc integrity is only guaranteed while we
remain faithful to the goal of describing obj ective reality, are we then thrown into
intellectual anarchy, where data get fdged, empirical rigor is despised, fctions
masquerade as facts, and any harebrained interpretive idea is given as much value
as any other?
These questions all bear upon the anxiety that troubles many anthropologists
who want to ditch the positivist notion of value-neutral social science, yet cannot
accept the relativistic, solipsistic kind of anthropology they imagine will follow in
its wake. It is an anxiety common to all human beings faced with the aleatory char
acter of existence and the provisional ity of their understanding. In the sense that
magic and science both protect and console us against the uncertainty of life, they
are very much on a par. As Dewey observed, speaking of the troubling contrast
between the seen and the unseen:
We may term the way in which our ancestors dealt with the contrast superstitions,
but the contrast is no superstition. It is a primary datum in any experience. . . . Our
magical safeguard against the uncertain character of the world is to deny the existence
of chance, to mumble universal and necessary law, the ubiquity of cause and efect
the uniformity of nature, universal progress, and the inherent rationality of the uni
verse. ( 1 929: 44)
But the anxiety felt by many contemporary anthropologists is not j ust existen
tial . It refects a particular cast of mind, as well as a recent shift in the power base
of anthropology itself.
Construing anthropology as either science o art, fact o fction, true o false,
knowledge o opinion implies an absurd antinomy between obj ectivity and subj ec-
tivity, and the idea that we must somehow choose between one or the other. As
we have seen, however, the discourse of anthropology is a curious blend of both
sorcery and science. The j argon of positivism-borrowed from allegedly more dis
passionate sciences such as mathematics , mechanics , biology, and linguistics
often seems to be dpicting reality when in fact it is plying games with it. 1 0 When
Fortes or Radclife- Brown draws analogies between organic and social systems, the
name of the game is not exact science but sympathetic magic. The tropes are not
what they pretend to be, neutral means for expressing facts; they constitute the
facts in certain ways and imply hidden assumptions and aims. As in magical
thought, language is confsed with the reality it depicts. By playing with the
"cold, " "inhuman, " "mathematical" language of science, positivist anthropology in
duces in us a sense of concreteness, rationality, and method ( Rorty 1 982 : 1 94) . I t
achieves, however, only the aura, not the authority, of science. This is not to say
that ridding anthropology of the j argon of science will necessarily make it any more
capable of depicting things as they really are, any more than flling anthropology
with the j argon of poetics will necessarily make it more authentic. Just as imper
sonal idioms create little more than an illusion of obj ectivity, so too the adoption
of a reflexive, frst-person, confessional idiom-what Adoro called a "j argon of
authenticity"-creates little more than an illusion of sincerity.
Let us then accept that there is no ahistorical , absolute, nonfnite reality either
outside or within us that we can reach by adopting a particular discursive style. The
world is out there, to be sure, and deep within us too, but not th truth ( Rorty
1 986: 3) . This view leads us at once to another way of understanding anthropolo
gists' anxiety about the status of anthropological knowledge.
TRUT H AN 0 P OWE R
As I noted earlier, since the 1 970s there has been an epistemic shift within anthro
pology away from an analytical, positivist conception of knowledge to a hermeneu
tical one which, to adapt Weber's phrase, sees both the anthropologist and the
people he or she studies as suspended in webs of signifcance they themselves have
spun. 11 This "interpretive tur, " as Rabinow and Sullivan call it, does not, as some
anthropologists fear, signif a lapse into romanticist subj ectism, but in its insistence
that "understanding any action is analogous to textual interpretation" ( Rabinow
and Sull ivan 1 979: 1 2) the new hermeneutic anthropology is reminiscent of the
sixteenth-century episteme, characterized by a search for hidden meanings through
the reading, divination, and deciphering of visible signatures and signs. I wi ll have
more to say later about this textualist view of anthropology. For the moment, let
us try to account for the vogue it presently enj oys.
In the frst place, the interpretive tur is one consequence of a widespread
disenchantment with the mechanistic, reductionist, and formalistic character of
positivist anthropology ( cf. Habermas 1 983: 252) . This disenchantment is so great
that many anthropologists no longer care to distinguish between science and scien
tism.
Second, the 1 970s saw a gradual decline in the prestige of structuralism.
O Ethnogaphic Trth 183
Throughout the I 96os, structural anthropology captured the imaginations of histo
rians , l iterary theorists, natural scientists , and j ouralists alike. Susan Sontag, writ
ing of Levi-Strauss in I 967, spoke of "the anthropologist as hero" ( 69-8 I ) . Now,
however, the heroes are literary theorists such as Geofrey Hartmann and Edward
Said, historians such as Hayden White, and "poststructuralist" thinkers such as
Jacques Derrida and Michel Foucault-thinkers whom Richard Rorty calls "textu
alists" ( I 982: I 39) . In a sense, anthropology has lost its glamor and gone into the
wings, from where it tries to retrieve power vicariously through conj uring with the
texts and names which are at center stage.
But, to my mind, the most critical event that bears upon the transformations
in contemporary anthropology is the loss of our empirical feld, a loss which is inex
tricably tied up with decolonization and the loss of empire. But the loss of our tradi
tional laboratories, or the diffculty we experience persuading postcolonial gover
ments to grant us access to those that remain, cannot alone account for why
anthropologists have tured more and more to exploring their own archive of eth
nographic texts and contemplating the history and feld of their own discourse.
Decolonization gave rise to intense debate about the relationship between knowl
edge and power, and searching critiques-particularly during the Vietnam War-of
the ways anthropological knowledge is linked to imperialism and oppression ( Asad
I 973 i Condominas I 977i Hymes I 969) . 1 2 But while many anthropologists were gal
vanized into political action as a result of these critiques, others looked back nostal
gically to a pristine world or indulged a kind of remorse over the link between the
instrumental rationality that underpinned both anthropology and the structure
of social domination. This mood of melancholy pervades Levi-Strauss's Tristes
trpiques :
The frst thing we see as we travel round the world is our own flth, thrown in the
face of mankind. . . .
The anthropologist is the less able to ignore his own civil isation and to dissociate
himself from its faults in that his very existence is incomprehensible except as an at
tempt at redemption; he is the symbol of atonement. ( 1 973: 38, 389)
It is my view that this need for redemption is one reason for the epistemic
shift toward refexive and interpretive anthropology. It is one aspect of our attempt
to "reinvent" anthropology, adapting it to survive in the postcolonial world
( Hymes I 969) . But in bemoaning the scientifc rationalism that accompanies colo
nial ism and in seeking to identif with the oppressed by placing their knowledge
on a par with our own, we may be doing nothing but salving our consciences
through a form of sympathetic magic and using science as the scapegrace for our
sins.
Just as seventeenth-century science did not become truer by derogating magic
and alchemy, interpretive anthropology gains little more than a semblance of truth
by pointing out the poverty of positivism. Behind the current polarization of ana
lytical and interpretive modes of anthropological knowledge lies a struggle for intel
lectual and moral authority in which scholars promise to save us from false gods
only to end up trying to sell us their own idols. In its antagonism to natural science
and its privileging of literary criticism, textualism claims too much, j ust as positivis
tic social science does. By fetishizing texts, it divides-as the advent of literacy
itself did-readers from authors, and separates both from the world. The idea that
"there is nothing outside the text" may be congenial to someone whose life is con
fned to academe, but it sounds absurd in the vi llage worlds where anthropologists
carry out their work, where people negotiate meaning in face-to-face interactions,
not as individual minds but as embodied social beings. In other words, textualism
tends to ignore the fux of human interrelationships, the ways meanings are created
intersubj ectively as well as "intertextually, " embodied in gestures as well as in
words, and connected to political , moral, and aesthetic interests. Quite simply,
people cannot be reduced to texts any more than they can be reduced to obj ects.
My own hope is for the kind of pragmatist approach exemplifed by Gregory
Bateson. Such an approach avoids crude either/or antinomies, uses diferent
epistemes strategically, clarifes the relation between our thought and our own per
sonal or social situation, and always treats our understanding as provisional.
Bateson's epistemological openness means using the methods of both natural sci
ence and interpretive anthropology.
As a natural scientist Bateson considers it imperative to understand through
painstaking empirical work how it is neurophysiologically possible for us to receive
impressions of the world in which we live, that is, how our eyes and brains work.
But this approach to vision requires a complementary understanding of how we
create, out of the showers of impulses brought to the brain by the optic nerve,
meaningful pictures of the world. The grounds for the possibility of being human
are both neurophysiological and cultural , innate and leared. We can neither dis
cover the world as it is "out there" nor j ust "make it up":
I have the use of the information that that which I see, the images, or that which
I feel as pain, the prick of a pin, or the ache of a tired muscle-for these, too, are
images created in their respective modes-that all this is nei ther obj ective truth or
is it all hallucination. There is a combining or marriage between an obj ectivity that
is passive to the outside world and a creative subj ectivity, neither pure sol ipsism nor
its opposite. ( Bateson 1 977: 245)
In elucidating this interplay between the world we fnd and the worlds we make
up, Bateson notes the importance of analogy, for analogy is the visible expression
of the way we are continually comparing the novel with the known in what J .
Z. Young calls a dialectic of doubt and certainty ( 1 95 1 ) .
Bateson also discusses the vital role of analogy in his own thought by recount
ing the way he formulated a model of latmul social organization. l atmul society,
unlike our own, lacks any form of chieftaincy. Control of the individual is through
"lateral" sanctions rather than "sanctions from above. " In pondering this contrast,
Bateson hit upon the notion that it was "l ike the diference between the radially
symmetrical animals ( j ellyfsh, sea anemones, etc. ) and the animals which have
transverse segmentation (earthworms, lobsters, man, etc. ) " ( I 973= so) .
Extending this analogy, Bateson argues that latmul clan organization resembles
the morphology of the sea anemone-near- identical segments arranged around a
O Ethnogaphic Truth 1 85
center, l ike the sectors of a circle. latmul clans tend to imitate and borrow from
one another, rather than diferentiating themselves serially like the segments in
our own society or the legs of a lobster.
I followed up the analogy in another direction. Impressed by the phenomena of meta
meric diferentiation, I made the point that in our society with its hierarchical systems
( comparable to the earthworm or the lobster) , when a group secedes fom the parent
society, it is usual to fnd that the line of fssion, the division between the new group
and the old, marks a diferentiation of mores. The Pilgrim Fathers wander of in order
to be difeTent. But among the latmul , when two groups in a village quarrel , and one
half goes of and founds a new community, the mores of the two groups remain identi
cal. In our society, fssion tends to be heretical ( a following after other doctrines or
mores) , but in latmul , fssion is rather schismatic (a fol lowing after other leaders wi th
out change of dogma) . ( t . t )
Bateson admits that this organic analogy can be pushed too far, but as a
"vague" or "wild" hunch it proved useful in helping him see his data in a novel
and edifing way. U Unl ike Radclife-Brown and Frtes, Bateson uses an organic
analogy without apology, as a way of loosening his thinking and using his imagina
tion. Though his knowledge of natural science is greater than most anthropolo
gists' , there is no pretense of a "strict" inductive method whereby general izations
and patters emerge directly from the data. Referring to the strategic use of both
loose and strict thinking, Bateson observes:
We ought to accept and enjoy this dual nature of scientifc thought and be willing
to value the way in which the two processes work together to give us advances in un
derstanding of the world. We ought not to frown too much on either process, or at
least to frwn eqully on eitheT prcess when it is unupplemented by th other. ( t . o,
emphasis added)
Although comparing the diference between latmul society and our own in
terms of the diference between sea anemones and lobsters may be essentlly ab
surd, 1 4 there is always the possibility that artifcial or magical analogies may have
practical or scientifc value. Thus, although much non-Wester medicine is magi
cal and homeopathi c, not allopathi c, it is estimated that 25 to so percent of its
pharmacopoeia is empirically efective. Indeed, a large number of modem drugs
are derived fom non-Wester "magical" medicines: rauwolfa, digitalis, opium,
cinchona, podophyllin, quassia, acacia, sarspari lla, kousso, copaiba, guaiac, j alap,
coca, and more ( Hughes 1 978: r s4) . That things are used on the basis of magical
similitudes does not preclude their having intellectual and therapeutic value. In
deed, as Joseph Needham observes with respect to the Taoists, "they realised that,
in the l ight of experience, the technologist will often manage to do the right thing
in a given situation, even if sometimes he does it for the wrong theoretical reasons"
( Ronan 1 978: r o3 } .
This epistemic pluralism suggests an opportunistic, improvisatory attitude to
ethnographic inquiry. Truth is seen pragmatically, not as an essence but as an as
pect of existence, not as some abstraction such as Science, Rationality, Beauty,
or God, to be respected whatever the circumstances, but as a means of coping with
life. Such a view brings us back to Bokonon's notion that it is often useful to think
of truth as a lie and to think of lies as useful truths. It is a notion that would also
be congenial to Keti Ferenke Koroma, the Kuranko storyteller I knew, who was
always insisting that the value of fction lies in its consequences.
The Kuranko make a distinction between two genres of oral narratives: kum
kore ( "ancestral words") , which are true, and tilei ( "folktales") , which Keti Ferenke
had a genius for creating and telling and which are admittedly make-believe. But
the diference between these genres is not simply a diference between truth and
falsity, history and fantasy. Although tilei are bracketed apart from the quotidian
world-told at night, set in far-of places and distant times, with animal characters
to mask their link to the human world-they reveal and help resolve ambiguities
and tensions in the conventional order of things. By suspending disbelief, scoring
rigid codifcations , and unsettl ing orthodox bel iefs, the tlei inspire each person to
reconstruct and reinvent the world. Tilei are thus concered with existential trth,
not dogma. Although the devices used to annul the normal order of things are
fctional , the result of listening to the tales and discussing the dilemmas posed by
them is that each person comes to decide the world for himself or herself rather
than passively accepting it as a fait accompl i .
While tilei represent a pragmatist notion of truth, kum kore represent an essen
tialist notion of truth, since epics and clan myths , like ethnographic realist writing,
allegedly correspond to some "obj ective" reality. The point is, though, that tili
and kuma kore are mutually necessary. Each engenders the other. Each is a moment
in the dialectic of Kuranko social life in which norms are defned as much through
negating and confounding them as through slavish imitation and formal respect
(Jackson 1 982a) .
In my own writing I have also felt the force of this dialectic, simply because
my experience overfows the confnes of orthodox discursive styles , refusing to rec
ognize any essential division between ethnographic experience and other modes
of experience, personal , ethical, or political. 15 This spirit of what William James
called "radical empiricism" has sometimes led me to depart from analogies which
are true ( in the sense that they purport to reveal real connections in the obj ective
world) and use analogies which have no such pretensions. It is l ike the diference
between comparing one's thoughts and feel ings to a winged creature and speaking
of the functional connections between the wings of birds and of bats (a true analogy)
or the phylogenetic connections between the wings of birds , the front flippers of
seals, and our own upper limbs (a relation of homology) (Gould 1 987) .
But this i s not to celebrate with Nietzsche that "the lie-and not the truth-is
divine! "-only to stress that the domains of experience which we conventionally
call fact and fction, science and art, are mutually necessary as well as intimately
connected. The value and place of diferent discursive styles have to be decided
by the situation we fnd ourselves in and the problems we address. It is a question
of existential strategies, not strict rules. Rather than pretend there is no diference
between science and art or argue that one can be epistemologically privileged over
the other, we have to lear to play them both of against the other. This is what
On Ethnogaphic Trth 1 87
Bateson means by epistemological openness and what Rorty means when he advo
cates an "ironic attitude towards ' truth"'-using literature as a dialectical foi l for
science an vice versa, but not losing sight of their mutual dependency. Just as an
thropology needs to be rescued from its positivist proclivities, so the poet some
times needs to be saved from his friends (Rorty 1 982: 1 37 ) .
CAT ' S CR AD L E
Truth is on the margins. It is lost when it is claimed. It makes its appearance fleet
ingly, when systems col lapse and dogmas are exploded. And untruth, as Nietzsche
observed, is "a condition of life" ( 1 973 : q) .
Mendacity, make-believe, and gainsaying are constitutive of our very human
ity. The linguistic and mental ability to recognize "the thing which is not" ( Steiner
1 973: 223 ) , to create counterworlds-the skill of what George Steiner calls
"altemity"-is what makes us subj ects and agents of our own existence:
whatever their bio-sociological origin, the uses of language for "altemity, " for mis
construction, for i llusion and play, are the greatest of man' s tools by far. With this
stick he has reached out of the cage of instinct to touch the boundaries of the universe
and of time.
At frst the instrument probably had a banal survival value. It still carried with it
the impulse of instinctual mantling. Fiction was disguise: from those seeking out the
same water-hole, the same sparse quarry, or meagre sexual chance. To misinform, to
utter less than the truth was to gain a vital edge of space or subsistence. Natural selec
tion would favor the contriver. Folk tales and mythology retain a blurred memory of
the evolutionary advantage of mask and misdirection. Loki , Odysseus are very late,
li terary concentrates of the widely difused motif of the l iar, of the dissembler elusive
as fame and water, who survives. 1 6 ( 1 973: 224-25)
This reference t o the trickster brings us back t o Bokonon, back t o the connec
tion between storytell ing and selfood, and back to eat's cradles. The Maori trick
ster Maui was the inventor of the eat's cradle ( variously called he whi, huhi, and
mui ) . Like the Kuranko folktale and our own ethnographic discourse, the eat's
cradle is stretched, tensed, and held between the poles of reality and make-believe.
With a single endless loop of string, the Polynesians could illustrate stories, depict
mythological scenes and persons , or suggest the forms of houses, weapons , articles
of clothing, canoe and adze lashings , landmarks, flora and fauna (Jayne 1 906: 3 ;
Handy 1 925: 3-7) . Can our discourse be likened to these string fgures, a game we
play with words, the thread of an argument whose connection with reality is always
obl ique and tenuous, 17 which crosses to and fro, interlacing description with inter
pretation, instruction with entertainment, but always ambiguously placed between
practical and antinomian ends ? If so, truth is not binding. It is in the interstices
as much as it is in the structure, in fction as much as in fact.
Notes
I K L I^LL
r . 5cvcra|chaptcrs |nth|sbook arc rcv|scdorrcwr|ttcnvcrs|onsoIprcv|ous|ypub||shcd
cssays. chaptcrq ( r db) , chaptcr ( r da) , chaptcr r ) , chaptcrd ( r da) , chaptcr
( r db) , chaptcr ro ( r da) , chaptcr r r ( r db) .
LN L . I N KLOLL I LN
r . In h|s car|y wr|t|ngs, Lcv|-5trauss oItcn comcs vcp c|osc to thc v|cw oI Mcr|cau-
Ionty, that"thcproccssoIjo|n|ngobj cct|vcana|ys|sto ||vcdcxpcr|cncc|spcrhapsthcmost
propcr task oI anthropo|ogy, thc onc wh|ch d|st|ngu|shcs |t hom othcr soc|a| sc|cnccs"
( Mcr|cau-Ionty r q.rr ) . hus, |nh|s |ntroduct|onto thcworksoIMarcc|Mauss (r o) ,
hcobscrvcs.
Ia preuve du social, elle, ne peut etre que mentale; autrement dit, nous ne pouvons j amais etre
surs d'avoir atteint le sens et Ia fonction d'une institution, si nous ne sommes pas en mesure
de revivre sn incidence sur une conscience individuelle. Comme cette incidence est une partie
integrante de !' institution, toute interpretation valable doit faire coincider l'objectivite de
!'analyse historique ou comparative avec le subjectivite de !'experience vecue. (Levi-Strauss
I 950: xxvi)
In h|s |atcrwr|t|ngs, too, Lcv|-5trauss oItcn notcs, a|bc|tgrudg|ng|y, that"Kccogn|t|on
oIthcIactthatconsc|ousncss|s not cvcpth|ng, nor cvcn thc most |mportant th|ng, |s not
a rcason Ior abandon|ng |t. . . . " (r dr . z) . "hc subj cct, wh||c rcma|n|ng dc||bcratc|y
at thc background so as to a||owhcc p|ay to th|sanonymousdcp|oymcntoId|scoursc, docs
notrcnounccconsc|ousncss oI |t, or rathcrdocs not prcvcnt |t ach|cv|ngconsc|ousncssof
|tsc|Ithrough h|m" (z) .
5|m||ar|y, Iucau|t, who took such umbragc at 5artrc's rc||ancc on a ccntcrcd subj cct
as a sourcc oI mcan|ng and, |n h|s projccts oI thc r os, ru|cd out |nd|v|dua| sc|I-
consc|ousncss as an objcctoIknow|cdgc, tums to study thc ccntcrcd subj cct |nTh History
of Sexulity and app|auds 5artrc's v|cws on crcat|v|ty and prax|s ( Iostcr r dq. z-zd,
r qoqr ) .
z. ^domo uscd thc tcrm identity-thinking Ior our hab|t oI rcgard|ng conccpts and thc
objccts thcy pcna|n to as rc|atcd |n somc dctcrm|natc, m|rror||kc way. Non- |dcnt|ty-
th|nk|ng, orncgat|vcd|a|cct|c, rccogn|tcs thcprob|cmat|c, |ndctcm|natc, |||usory conncc-
t|ons bctwccn conccpts and thc th|ngs thcy rcprcscnt. It countcrs thc rc|hcat|on wh|ch |s
a|ways |mp||cdby |dcnt|ty-th|nk|ng, thc spur|ous bc||cIthat a conccpt rca||ycovcrs or m|r-
rors |ts obj cct or |s congncnt and |somorph|c w|th thc cxpcr|cncc |t purprts to dcnotc.
"hc namcoId|a|cct|cs says no morc, to bcg|n w|th, than that objcctsdo notgo |nto thc|r
conccpts w|thout |cav|ng a rcma|ndcr, that thcy comc to contrad|ct thc trad|t|ona| nom
oIadcquacy. Lontrad|ct|on . . . |nd|catcs thc untnthoI|dcnt|ty, thcIactthatthc conccpt
docs not cxhaust thc th|ng concc|vcd" (^domo r . ) .
5artrc's d|a|cct|c a|so a||ows that ||vcd cxpcr|cncc contrad|ctsorovcmows thc cogn|t|vc
||m|ts wh|ch wc somct|mcs|mag|ncwc can sctupon |t. "L|vcd cxpcr|cncc, " hc wr|tcs, "|s
pcrpctua||y susccpt|b|c oIcomprchcns|on, but ncvcroIknow|cdgc. ak|ng |t as a po|nt oI
dcparturc, onccanknowccrta|npsych|c phcnomcna by conccpts, but not th|s cxpcr|cncc
|tsc|I" (5artrc r . q) .
. ^domo capturcs th|s po|ntoIv|cw n|cc|y.
1 90 Notes t pages -
Traditional philosophy thinks of itself as possessing an infnite obj ect, and in that belief it be
comes a fnite, conclusive philosophy. A changed philosophy would have to cancel that claim,
to cease persuading others and itself that it has the infnite at its disposal. Instead, if it were
delicately understood, the changed philosophy itself would be infnite in the sense of scoring
solidifcation in a body of enumerable theorems. Its substance would lie in the diversity of objects
that impinge upon it and of the objects it seeks, a diversity not wrought by any schema; to
those obj ects, philosophy would truly give itself rather than use them as a mirror in which to
reread itself, mistaking its own image for concretion. ( 1 973: 1 3 )
hc conc|ud|ng |magc rcm|nds onc oI thc argumcnt K|chard Korty advanccs | nPhilso
phy an th Miro of Nature (r ) aga|nst thc Lartcs|an and Kant|an not|ons that know|-
cdgc can bc an accuratc rcprcscntat|on, or m|rror|ng, oI thc wor|d, a rcproduct|on oI |ts
own |ntr|ns|c vocabu|ary and grammar.
q. |amcs's pragmat|sm and Husscr|'s phcnomcno|ogy makc thc|r appcarancc on c|thcr
s|dc oIthc ^t|ant|c at about thc samc t|mc. bth ph||osophcrssought
to "dissolve" traditional metaphysical problems by a retur t experience. At the same time, James
and Husser! (and Bergson) are distinguished fom the logical positivists and fom traditional em
piricists (particularly the British empiricists) by a conception of experience as something much
more complex . . . much more existential than that allowed by the purely "cognitive" ( and "sen
sationalist") accounts of experience accepted by earlier empiricists. Further, James and Husser!
conceived philosophy to be primarily concered with the realm of meaning - . . . This necessarily
led them to place mn-the-experiencer at the center of their philosophical preoccupations, to re
place metaphysics, so to speak, with "philosophical anthropology. " (Edie 1 965 : 1 1 4-1 5 )
. Lons|dcr, Ior |nstancc, Ma||nowsk|'smnct|ona||st v|cws| nthc ||ghtoI h|sownpcr-
sona| turmo|| |nthc robr|ands. by mak|ngrobr|andsoc|ctyho|d togcthcr, washcpcrhaps
stngg||ng mag|ca||y, v|car|ous|y, to rcscuc h|s own sc|IIromd|s|ntcgrat|on' |amcs L||hord
wou|d appcarto agrcc. "Lnc oIthc ways Ma||nowsk|pu||cdh|msc|Itogcthcrwas bywr|t|ng
cthnography. Hcrc thc Iash|oncd who|cncss oIa sc|IandoIa cu|turcsccm to bc mutua||y
rc|nIorc|ng a||cgor|cs oI |dcnt|ty" (L||hord rda.rz) .
. V|ctor umcr's c|uc|dat|on oIthc po|yscm|c tcrm exeriene | s worth quot|ng at
|cngth.
Scholars trace the word right back to the hypothetical Indo-European base pe, "to attempt,
venture, " whence the Greek, peira, nEi
p
a, "experience, " whence we also derive "empirical , "
and the Old English, fa, "danger, " fom which we derive our modem word "fear. " More di
rectly, "experience" derives, via Middle English and Old French, fom the Latin exerientia, de
noting "trial, proof, experiment, " and is itself generated fom exerien, the present participle
of exerir, "to tr, test , " fom ex- "out" + base pe as in ptus, "experienced, " which is, of
course, related to pculum, "danger" or "peril. " Etymologists like Skeat relate the Greek peira,
nEl
p
aw, "I tr" to pera, nE
p
aw, "I pass through. " If culture is really to be regarded as the crstal
lized secretion of once living human experience (which is still capable of liquefaction back into
similar if not identical lived-through experience under favorable conditions, like the reputed
miracle of Saint Januarius' dried blood) , then we may perhaps see the ter "experience" in its
connotational penumbra at least, as preconsciously, if not unconsciously, linked with rtes d
pasage, with danger, with "faring" or travel and "ferring, " its Anglo-Saxon form, and with
"fear" and "experiment, " which is, of course, "test, trial, the action of tring anything, or putting
it to the proof" (Oxford English Dictionar) . Thus, experience is a j ourey, a test ( of self, of
suppositions about others) , a ritual passage, an expsure to peril, and an exposure to fear. Does
this not sum up to something akin to feldwork, even to pilgrimage, which is, again etymologi
cally, a jourey "through felds" (per as) , a peregrination? Anthropological feldwork surely
deserves its ver own kind of exeriential theo, its ow edifce of practical, yet poetical , knowl
edge. (Turer 1 985: 226)
. It shou|d bc notcd, howcvcr, thatthc cquat|on oI thought and v|s|on-thc |magc
oI thc m|nd's cyc-was cstab||shcd wc|| bcIorc Lockc's t|mc. 5ummar|t|ng bnno 5nc||' s
Notes c pages -r o 1 91
studyoIc|ass|ca| Lrcck vcrbs Ior scc|ng, |amcs Ld|c shows how s|ght bccamc rc|hcdas our
pr|mary and un|tary mctaphorIorknow|ng.
Even the later and more technical ter for sight, the one adopted by Plato and Aristotle for
philosophical contemplation, teoin (8Ew
p
Eiv) , was not originally a verb but a noun, teos
( 8Ew
p
6<) , meaning "to be a spectator, " from which it derived its later meaning of "loking
at, " ultimately "to contemplate. " Here, clearly, the same word was used to designate in a con
fsed way both seeing ( the optical phenomenon) and intellectual comprehension, and this is
even more clear with the ter noin ( VOEiv) , which in early Greek "stands for a t of seeing
which involves not merely visual activity but the mental act that goes with the vision. " It was
probably through the use of this word, noein ( voEiv, v6o<) , that the Greeks were frst enabled
to distinguish clearly the experience of "thinking" as such. Then, through the process of analogy
so imprant in the evolution of language, the classical word for sight, idein, also came to desig
nate ( especially in the for ei, Ei8Evat ) the process of thinking, since the word
for thought, noein, also meant, in its primary sense, "to see. " Professor Snell has shown that
in early Greek the eye served as the "model for the absorption of experiences, " and we can
add that the earliest epistemological vocabular is therefore a vocabulary of seeing. ( Edie
1 976: 1 73)
d. LI. Korty r . t.
I t i s pictures rather than propsitions, metaphors rather than statements, which deterine most
of our philosophical convictions. The picture which holds traditional philosophy captive is that
of the mind as a great mirror, containing various representations-some accurate, sme not
and capable of being studied by pure, nonempirical methods. Without the notion of the mind
as mirror, the notion of knowledge as accuracy of representation would not have suggested itself.
Without this latter notion, the strategy common to Descartes and Kant-getting more accurate
representations by inspecting, repairing, and plishing the mirror, so to speak-would not have
made sense. Without this strategy in mind, recent claims that philosophy could consist of "con
ceptual analysis" or "phenomenological analysis" or "explication of meanings" or examination
of "the logic of our language" or of "the strcture of the constituting activity of consciousness"
would not have made sense.
. Ld|c notcs that
the family of words related to the Greek gignoskein (ytyvwaKEtv) , such as cognosce in Latin,
connit in French, rcognize in English, originally signifed "to be with" and then "to recognize"
in the sense of "seeing or meeting the same person again. " It designated the ability to identif
other persons-as one recognizes one's fiends, acquaintances, one's comrades in battle, etc.
( 1 976: 238)
r o. Our|ngmyhrstpcr|odoIhc|dwork I uscds|mp|cpcrspcct|vcdraw|ngstotcstKuranko
v|||agcrs' pcrccpt|ons oIobjccts dcp|ctcd onap|ancsurIacc |nconIom|tyw|th thcwaythcy
arc sccn hom a hxcd po|nt oIv|cw. V|||agcrs |nvar|ab|y pcrcc|vcd objccts as sma|| or|argc
accord|ngtothc|rrc|at|vcs|tc|nthcdraw|ngrathcrthanaccord|ngtothc|rrc|at|vcd|stancc
hom thc obrvat|on po|nt |n thc Iorcground.
rL In Birh of t Clinic (r) , Iucau|t traccs thc cmcrgcncc oImodcm mcd|c|nc |n
thc c|os|ng ycars oIthc c|ghtccnthccntury to a part|cu|ar app||cat|on oIc||n|ca| gatc, and
|nDisciplin an Punish ( r )hcd|scusscsat|cngthhow bntham'sPanopticon maybcsccn
asacompc|||ng"arch|tcctura|hgurc"oIthc|atcc|ghtccnthccntupprcoccupat|onw|thcon-
tro| throughccntra||tcd stncturcs oIsurvc|||ancc. h|s supcr|sory pcrspcct|vc thus pr|v|-
|cgcs and cmpwcrs not on|y thc cyc as a mcans oIknow|ng but a|so thc obscrcr as a
soc|a| and p||t|ca| bc|ng to whom othcrs must subm|t as obj ccts oI h|s gatc. Iau| 5to||cr
haswr|ttcnbr||||ant|yon thc"rccurrcnt'monarch-oI-a||-I-surcy'convcnt|on" |nanthropo-
|og|ca| monographs, travc| ||tcraturc, and hct|on ( r dq. r ot ) .
1. LvcnproIcss|ona|gcnca|og|stsandbards gn) oItcn d|hcr |n thcwaysthcyrc|atc
||ncs oIch|chysucccss|onand Ia|| to d|scr|m|natcbctwccn h||a| and hatcma| ||nks.
192 Notes t pages t o-zo
t . Ir cxamp|cs oI thc cquat|on oI ||ncagc and dwc|||ng, scc Loody t . -d
( LoW|||| ) , Karp t d ( Itcso) , Icmandct t dz. (Iang) , L|tt|c t t . - ( Mcndc) ,
Iau|mc t q. ( K|ss| ) , Maycr t q. q- (Lus| | ), 5outha|| t z. z ( Luo) . Ir cxampIcsoI
thc cquat|onoI||ncagcandbcgctt|ng,sccKattray t z. -d ( ^shant| ) , ^rdcncr t . t t d
( Ibo) , |ackson t b. (Kuranko) . hc Lu|u cxamp|c |s worth quot|ng. "^ ||ncagc
( umndeni or, muchmorccommon|y|nNyuswa, uzalo, homzal, tobcar, hcncc'oIcommon
b|rth') |s composcd oI pcop|c who can tracc dcsccnt to a common agnat|c anccstor"
(Ngubanc t . t ) . Lurwordntion comcs much c|oscr than lineage to th|s ^h|can scnsc
oIsoc|a| |dcnt|ty as dcr|v|ng hom "b|rth" or "bc|ng bom" ( scc V|co t d. xx-xx| ) .
t q. Lons|dcrthc t|mc| t tok Ior anthrop|og|stst oscr|ous|yqucst|onthc ana|yt|ca|usc-
m|ncssoI^h|can|st ||ncagcthcory|nundcrstand|ngso|a|organ|tat|on|nthcNcwLu|nca
H|gh|ands ( bamcs t z, Lcdcman t d. qor ) and thcnthc t|mc |t took Ior ^h|can|sts
to qucst|on thc cxccss|vc systcmat|tat|on oI||ncagc thcory |n ^h|can stud|cs ( Karp t d) .
t . h|s v|cwpo|nt |s n|cc|y summar|tcd byN|kos Katanttak|s |n h| s novc| Zb t
Greek: "o say 'ycs' to ncccss|ty and changc thc |ncv|tab|c |nto somcth|ng donc oI thc|r
own hcc w|||' hat |s pcrhaps thc on|y human way to dc||vcrancc. It |s a p|t|ab|c way,
but thcrc |s no othcr" ( t t . zq) .
t . 5omc amb|gu|ty arosc |n trans|at|ng thc Lng||sh wordgiant. hc ncarcst cqu|va|cnt
|n Kuranko |s ke yan ("|ong man") , wh|chdcs|gnatcsa ta|| bush sp|r|t that somct|mcs aI||cs
|tsc|Iw|th huntcrs. I was to|d that |Ith|s bush sp|r|t appcars |n a drcam |t w|shcs to hc|p
thc drcamcr.
t . Ir dcta||cd accounts oI ^domo's |ndcbtcdncss to 5chnbcrg, scc buck-Morss
t . t -t and |amcson t t . t t-. hc Io||ow|ng passagcs, thc hrst hom h|s Lvcrturc
to Th Raw and the Cooked, thc sccond hom thc I|na|c oI Th Naked Man, cncapsu|atc
Lcv|-5trauss's v|cw oIthc rc|at|onsh|p bctwccn myth|ca| and mus|ca| Iom. Îtcrspcak|ng
oI"h|srcvcrcncc, hom ch||dhodon, Ior 'thatLod, K|chardWagncr, `' Lcv|-5trauss notcs.
If Wagner is accepted as the undeniable originator of the strctural analysis of myths (and even
of folk tales, as in Die Meistsinge), it is a profoundly signifcant fact that the analysis was made,
in the frst instance, in muic. Therefore, when I suggested that the analysis of myths was compa
rable with that of a major musical score, I was only drawing the logical conclusion fom Wagner's
discovery that the structre of myths can b revealed through a musical score. ( 1 970: 1 5 )
. . . music, i n its own way, has a fnction comparable t o that of mythology. The musical work,
which is a myth coded in sounds instead of words, ofers an interpretative grid, a matrix of rela
tionships which flters and organizes lived experience, acts as a substitute for it and provides
the comforting illusion that contradictions can b overcome and difculties resolved. ( 1 981 : 659)
WL. WL L I V L 5
t . 5cncga|csc hrc hnchcs ( tintinburwe) ncst |nthc cavcs oIhouscs and hy about |n thc
cook|ng yardsa rcason, onc supposcs, why thc Kuranko say thc b|rds harbor thc sp|r|ts
oI |nIants who havc d|cd bcIorc wcan|ng and bccn bur|cd, as |s customary, |n thc arca oI
thc rubb|sh hcap or hcarth (sundu kunye r) .
z. ^s |nthc adagc Brnen dr n keli r, koni ktr' I min bi birindi kel r ("bananas
[on a s|ng|c comb| arc k|n, but thosc on a hand arc cspcc|a||y c|osc") , | . c. , thc oncncss
oIk|nsh|p (nkelinyorgoye, ||t. "mothcr-onc-partncrs") |s ||kc thc oncncss oIa hand oIba-
nanas.
. hc unavo|dab|||tyoI|n|t|at|on connotcs thc |ncv|tab|||ty oIonc's scparat|on hom
onc's parcnts and onc's movcmcnt hom thcnurturancc andshc|tcroIonc's nata| homc |nto
thc wor|d. Hcncc thc Kamban song that oItcn accompan|csprcparat|onsIor|n|t|at|on.
Hali i fa ya a ya wlan I b r si k b i T, yenyen, dannu, yenyen. . . .
Hali i n ya a ya wn I b r si k b i T, yenyen, dnnu, yenyen. . - -
Nots t paes zo- r 1 93
("Even if your father's eye is red we will take you away fom him, yenyen, children, yenyen.
Even if your mother's eye is red we will take you away fom her, yenyen, children, yenyen . . . . ")
hc rcd cyc (ya wuln) s|gn|hcs covctousncss, |ong|ng, and annoyancc.
q. 5uch momcnts oIrcvcrsa| and tumo|| may bc b|ograph|ca| and advcnt|t|ous or so-
c|a||y |mp|cmcntcd and r|tua||tcd, as |n |n|t|at|ons and myths. hc contrast maybc spokcn
oIas onc bctwccn "r|tua|s oIam|ct|on" and "r|tua|s oIrcbc|||on. "
. "Man mus diese verstinen Verhiltnisse ddurch zum Tanzen zwingen, dss mn ihnn
ihre eigene Melodie vosingt ! " ( Marx r. r r ) . I havc paraphrascd thc trans|at|on by Lr|ch
Iromm ( r . d) .
. KurankooItcnusc|magcsoInctworksorcha|nstodcscr|bcthcwayonc'sIatc| s |ncx-
tr|cab|y t|cd to thc Iatc oI othcrs. "onc's b|rth |s ||kc thc nctwork oIropcs t|cd ovcr thc
r|cc Iam to kccp b|rds away" (son i le ko yagyil) ; "onc's b|rth |s ||kc a cha|n" (son
i l ko yolk) .
. Io|sons(dere) const|tutcascparatccatcgop| nthcKurankopharmacopoc|a, asso|-
atcdw|th womcn not mcn.
d. It|s |nstruct|vc, bycontrast, tocons|dcrthcIo||ow|ngcascoIhubr|swh|ch|nvoIvcd
aKometigi homKamadugu5ukurc|aandabesetigi rcnowncdthroughoutKurankoIorh|ssk|||s
|n rccp.
The Kotg, a man in his mid-twenties, ran away with another man's wife. The woman's father
and husband tok the matter to court and the chief of the Kotg's own village ordered him
to allow the woman to retur to her husband. When he refsed, people felt that his scor and
arrogance came fom his sense of power and invincibility as Komtg. He put himself abve
the law. Unable to get j ustice by noral secular means, the woman's father secured the serices
of a renowned besetg who placed a curse on the young man. Son after the man succumbd
to encephalitis-allegedly because of the curse-and died.
. hc stockphrascsarc "that |s how |t happcncd" (miya t ra nya n) , "that |s how
our anccstors |ct |thappcn" (r bimban' ya t nya n) , and "that |s what wc cncountcrcd"
(miya min t ra) .
r o. Kct| Icrcnkc spcaks oIh|s "grandIathcrs/Iorcbcars/anccstors" ( bimbannu) , but I havc
trans|atcd th|s as grcat-grandIathcr or grcat-grcat-grandIathcr whcncvcr gcnca|og|caI|y ap-
propr|atc. hc brackctcd |nd|cat|ons oI whcthcr thc rc|at|onsh|p |s matr||atcra| or
patr||atcra| arc a|so m|nc.
rr . Kuranko say thc c|dcr ch||d "ca||s" thcncxt-bom. I havc trans|atcd thc cxprcss|on
by thc phrasc "camc bcIorc. "
r z. Kct| Icrcnkc's patcma| and matcma| grcat-grandIathcrs marr|cd womcn hom
5amba|a bcndugu, both womcn wcrc Iu|a (or Iu|c) .
r . I nothcr words, Kct| Icrcnkc was not bom yct.
rq. Kct| Icrcnkc |s spcak|nghcrcon bcha|IoIh|s s|b||ng group, h|s gcncrat|on.
r . Sinkri r kono ( ||t. , "5aturday wa|t Ior mc") .
r. Sinkri or Sunk-Kamadan ( ||t. , "5aturday, " thcdayonwh|chKurankoca|cndr|ca|
r|tcs a|ways bcg|n).
t. hc |mp||cat|on |s that w|tchcraIt and sorccry wcrc suspcctcd asthc causcsoIboth
h|s parcnts' dcaths.
r d. Kuranko rcIcr to Ircctown as 5ara|on ( 5|crra Lconc) , an |nd|cat|on oIhow rcmotc
|t |s Ic|t to bc.
r . "Ko|a Iour, " a sympathyg|It to thc bcrcavcd.
zo. hc answcr to both r|ddIcs |s "two. "hcrc arc two pcop|c |n thc wor|d, man and
woman, and a pcrson takcs two stcps |n thc coursc oIa day, onc w|th thc r|ghtIoot and
onc w|th thc |cIt.
zr . O thc Iorty-onc Kct| Icrcnkc stor|cs I rccordcd, scvcn had as thc|r ma|n thcmc
194 Notes t pages q-qr
womcn as scduccrs and dccc|vcrs oI mcn (scc, Ior cxamp|c, N. and N. q |n |ackson
r dza) .
zz. h|s cmphas|s on thc structurc oI thc commonscnsc wor|d oI cvcryday ||Ic
(Lebenswelt) , rathcrthanthcorct|ca|thocghtand|dco|og|ca|know|cdgc ( Weltnchuungen) ,
dcr|vcs hom thc work oI^|hcd 5chutt (scc bcrgcr and Luckmann r . z-zd) .
H K L L . ^| ^ L ^ ' 5 H L ^ O 5
r . Lx|stcncc |s hom thc Lat|n ex-sistere, "to stand out, to cmcrgc. " Lx|stcnt|a||sm thus
cmphas|tcs thc human bc|ng "notas a co||cct|on oIstat|csubstanccsormcchan|smsorpat-
tcms but rathcr as cmcrg|ng and bccom|ng" ( May r d. t z) . "Wor|d |s ncvcr somcth|ng
stat|c, somcth|ng mcrc|y g|vcn wh|ch thc pcrson thcn 'acccpts' or 'adj usts to' or 'hghts . '
I t | s rathcr a dynam|c pattcm wh|ch, s o|ong as I posscss sc|I-consc|ousncss, I am| nthc
proccss oIIom|ng and dcs|gn|ng" (o) .
z. LI. Lcv|-5trauss. "Lvcp chort to undcrstand dcstroys thc obj cct stud|cd |nIavouroI
anothcr obj cct oI a d|hcrcnt naturc" ( r . qrr ) . N|c|s bhr rcIcrrcd to th|s as thc
Abtotungsprinzip: onc can k||| oh thc cxpcr|mcnta| subjcct by too dccp a matcr|a| prob|ng
oI|ts bchav|or. Ocvcrcuxnotcsthatcxtrcmcrcduct|on|stmodc|soIbchav|orhavcthcsamc
Iata| conscqucnccs (r . zdd) .
. Ior accounts oI thc |cg as a symbo| oI powcr and gcncrat|vc potcncy, scc |ackson
r . t zz-z, Ln|ans r , bunkcr and Lcw|n r , brad|cy r o.
q. hc word intetion apt|y convcys thc nondua||st|c charactcr oI thc ^h|can wor|d
v|cw. Intcnt|on |s a "sct" oI thc body as wc|| as a "purposc" |n thc m|nd. hc Lat|n stcm
intenre suggcsts "strctch|ng"and"tcns|on"so that |ntcnt|on |sa"strctch|ngtowardssomc-
th|ng" ( May r z. zzd) .
. h|s conh|ct assumcs d|hcrcntIoms |nd|hcrcnt Wcst^h|can soc|ct|cs. ^mong thc
Ka|abar| thc kcy contrast |s bctwccn compct|t|vcncss and noncompct|t|vcncss (Horton
r r . r r q, r d . z) . ^mongthca||cns| thc kcy oppos|t|on|s bctwccn thcIathcr's Ocst|ny
and thc Ocst|ny oIh|s hrst-bomson ( Irtcs r d. zz) . ^mong many Mandc-spcak|ng pco-
p|csthcrc |saIorccm|contrastbctwccnthcr|va|ryamongsonsoIthcsamcIathcrbutd|hcr-
cnt mothcrs (faenya) and thc am|cab|||ty among sons oI thc samc mothcr ( baenya,
nnye) ( b|rd and Kcnda|| r do. r q-r ) .
. ^mong thc Lhpa pcop|coI antan|a, thc hands s|gn| prax|s, thc act|vc mcasurcs
man takcs to makc h|s wor|d. ^s I|pa scc |t, "|t |s throughsuch act|on that hc const|tutcs
h|msc|I as a pcrson. hc s|gn|hcancc I|pa symbo||sm and mcd|c|nc attach to thc human
hands (amksa) rchccts a pcrccpt|on that thcsc organs arc thc mcans bywh|chconsc|ous|y
mcd|atcd |ntcnt|ons arc rca||scd |n a transIomat|on oI thc natura| cnv|ronmcnt. hrough
thc|r soc|a| prax|s, mcd|atcd through thc hands, human bc|ngs transIom naturc and |n so
do|ng crcatc thc|r soc|cty and cu|turc" (W||||s r . zd) .
. Our|ng h|s hc|dwork among thc |c|gobc Iu|an| , Iau| K|csman notcd that Icc||ngsoI
hurt or pa|n wcrc rarc|y |ndu|gcd or cxprcsscd to so||c|t sympathy. "It was thc samc w|th
a|| pa|n, phys|ca| and mcnta|. pcop|c ta|kcd about |t hcc|y and obj cct|vc|y, so to spcak,
but thcy d|d not exress |t by that |anguagc oI |ntonat|on and gcsturc wh|ch |s Iam|||ar
to us" ( r . r q) . ^ccord|ng to K|csman th|s cquan|m|ty was thc rcsu|t oInc|thcr rcprcs-
s|on nor sto|c|sm butoIcontro|. "o namc pa|n andsuhcr|ng|n a ncutra| tonc |s to mastcr
thcm, because t wods d not escae thoughtlssly but are spoken consciouly v . . . (r qd, my
cmphas|s) .
d. Ln||kc thc a||cns| , ^kan, Igbo, and Ldo pcop|cs mcnt|oncd car||cr, thc Kuranko
|mp|y that onc's dcst|ny|s dcc|dcd notprcnata||ybutatthc t|mc oIonc's sccond"symb||c"
b|rthdur|ng |n|t|at|on ( scc|ackson r b. chap. t t ) .
. O a|| thc powcrs acqu|rcd through |n|t|at|on nonc | s morc |mportant than
hankilimiye, mora| undcrstand|ng, common scnsc, gumpt|on. It |s acqu|rcd by ||stcn|ng to
Notes to pages qz-q 195
c|dcrs, and Kuranko say that both soc|a| wc||-bc|ng and pcrsona| |ongcv|ty dcpcnd on | t.
si e tole I to ( "|ong ||Ic |s |n thc||stcn|ng, "| . c. , hccd your c|dcrs and you w||||| vc|ong and
prospcrous|y) , si ' ban to I sa ( "short ||Ic car has not , " | . c. , |Iyou do not hccd your cIdcrs
you w||| not ||vc |ong) . 5o|a| |ntc|||gcncc |s asso|atcd w|th thc hcad ( kunye) so that a
Ioo| (yuwe, "craty"or"soc|a||ystup|d") |s somconc "w|thout sa|t |n h|s hcad" (k' sa kunye
r) or "w|thout bra|ns" ( kun' pa' sa) , wh||c a rcspons|b|c pcrson has "good thoughts |n
h|s hcad" (miria nyim a kunye r) ; h|s "hcad |sm|| . "
t o. L|scwhcrc (|ackson t dza) I havcd|scusscd| ndcta||thcKurankoconccptoI kenteye,
wh|ch mcans both phys|ca| wc||-bc|ng and soc|a| propr|cty. ^ brcakdown |n hca|th |s thus
oItcn rc|atcd to a brcach oIa soc|a| n|c or thc brcak|ng oItrust.
tt . In Kuranko narrat|vcs thcsc cxtrcmcs arc rcprcscntcd by thc cunn|ng harc ( thc
youngstcr)andthcstup|dhycna( thcc|dcr). hcstngg|csbctwccnthcma||cgor|tcthc|ntcr-
p|ay oInatura| and soc|a| hc|ds oIbc|ng (|ackson t dza) .
t z . ^mong thc Oogon, d|v|ncrs mark outsand d|agrams atdusk on thc cdgc oIthc v||-
|agc, hop|ngIorthcn|ght|mpr|ntoI1ourougou, thcpa|cIox, whorcprcscnts cxtravagancc
and d|sordcr as wc|| as oracu|ar tnth (La|amc-Lr|au|c t ) . hc Oogon contrast
1ourougou w|thNommo, whorcprcscntsrcasonandthc soc|a|ordcr. ^mongthcnc|ghbor-
|ng bambara, a s|m||ar contrast cx|sts bctwccn Nya|c, who was crcatcd hrst and s|gn|hcs
"swarm|ng ||Ic, " uncontro||cdpowcrand cxubcrancc, andIaroand Ndomady|r| , who wcrc
crcatcd ncxtand s|gn| cqu|||br|umand rcstra|nt. W|th thc advcnt oIhuman soc|cty ad|a-
|cct|c appcarcd |n wh|ch Nya|c and Ndomady|r| Iom "ant|thct|ca| |mpu|scs. " ^ccord|ng
to bambara thought, thc harmon|t|ng oI cxtrasoc|a| cncrg|cs and soc|a| ordcr dcpcnds on
cvcp pcrson acqu|r|ng mora| undcrstand|ng and tak|ng an act|vc part |n communaI ||Ic
( Lahan t q. t ) . hccx|stcnt|a|tcnoroIthcsc |dcas |sstrcsscdbyLahan. thcpcrson "sccs
h|msc|I as thc synthcs|s oI thc un|vcrsc . . . nc|thcr a toy nor a straw bctwccn thc hands
oIthc Iorccs wh|chwou|dcscapc h|m. Hc |sthc arb|tcroIh|s own gamc w|th thcsc Iorccs,
hc |s abovc thcm" (t. t) .
t . 5cc for cxamp|cs Lrt|gucs and Lrt|gucs t and Iar|n, Morgcntha|cr, and Iar|n-
Matthcy t do.
t q. InIact |twasLc|bn|t|n toqwhohrstproposcdathcopoIthcunconsc|oussupportcd
by purc|y psycho|og|ca| argumcnts ( L||cnbcrgcr t o. t z) .
t . 1ct Ircud oItcn wrotc as |Ithc unconsc|ouscou|dbc |ocatcd, and th|s topograph|ca|
conccpt|on oI thc unconsc|ous undcr||cs Ircud's cho|cc oI spat|a| |magcry to comparc thc
unconsc|oustoa|argcantcroomadjo|n|ng"asccond, sma||crapartmcnt, asortoIrcccpt|on-
room, |nwh|chconsc|ousncss rcs|dcs" (t zz. zq) . Ircudcomparcdthc unconsc|ousccnsor
to a dorkccpcr who stands on thc thrcsho|d bctwccn thc two rooms. Howcvcr, th|s ac-
count, wh|ch |n |ts concrctcncss and cmbo|cdncss rcscmb|cs thc ^h|can modcI , |s d|s-
m|sscdbyIrcudas"cndc"and"Iantast|c"and"not at all perissible in a scientifc presenttion"
(my cmphas|s) .
t . hc mctaphor oI unmask|ng bc|ongs to ^h|can and Luropcan d|scoursc a||kc. ^s
L||cnbcrgcrnotcs, psychoana|ys|s"bc|ongstothat'unmask|ng'trcnd,thatscarchIorh|ddcn
unconsc|ous mot|vat|ons charactcr|st|c oI thc t ddos and t dos . " Ir both Ircud and
N|cttschc "thc unconsc|ous |s thc rca|moIthc w||d, bnt|sh |nst|ncts that cannot hnd pcr-
m|ss|b|cout|cts, dcr|vchomcar||crstagcsoIthc |nd|v|dua|andoImank|nd, andhndcxprcs-
s|on|npass|on, drcams, andmcnta||||ncss. Lvcnthctcrm'|d' (d Es) or|g|natcsw|thN|ctt-
schc" ( t o. z) .
q. h|s po|nt | s a|so madcbyKoy W||||s, wr|t|ngonthc Lhpa oIantan|a. I|pa ||kcn
thc "pub||c" and "pr|vatc" sphcrcs oI thc sc|Ito thc outs|dc and |ns|dc oI a hut. "In thc
c|osc-packcd huts oIthc typ|ca| I|pa v|||agc, spat|a||y |ntcrrc|atcd by no ovcrt pr|nc|pIc oI
soc|a|organ|tat|on, and cachw|th |tsdarkandpr|vatc |ntcr|or, thcrc |sa phys|ca| anaIoguc
oIthc I|pa conccpt oIthc sc|Iand |ts rc|at|on to human soc|cq. . . . h|s conccpt oIthc
sc|Ias a dua||ty |n wh|ch thc ||ght, pub||c aspcct constant|y sccks to cxtcnd |ts organ|t|ng
1 96 Notes t pages 46-50
powcr|nto thc rcaIm oIthcdarkand unknown aspcct|s structuraI|y homoIogous w|th thc
I|pa conccpt oIthc un|vcrsc, |n wh|ch a coIIcct|vc human rat|onaI|tycndcavours toundcr-
stand and contro| thc worId oIw||dnaturc" ( I 974: 9o) .
I 8. KurankoohcncxpIa|nmadncss, v|s|onarydrcams, andscxuaIhaIIuc|nat|ons|ntcms
oIposscss|on by a bush sp|r|t (nyene) (|ackson I 977b: 37) .
I 9 Ira cr|t|quc oIthc cp|stcmoIog|caI c|a|ms and |og|caI Ioundat|onsoIIrcud's modcI
oIthc unconsc|ous, scc MacIntyrc I 958.
20. Lons|dcr, Ior cxampIc, Lcv|-5trauss'sd|stnstoI"nat|vcmodcIs. " Irh| m, stncturaI
anaIys|s |s thc cIuc|dat|on oIunconsc|ous modcIs. nc mcan|ngs arc thus aIways bcyond
our |mmcd|atc awarcncss ( I 963: I 9-24, 28I -82) , and "consc|ous data arc aIways crroncous
or ||Iusory" (I 972: 76; scc aIso Lcv|-5trauss I 963: 28 I ) . hc goaI oI thc anthropoIog|st "|s
tograsp, bcyond thc consc|ous and aIways sh|h|ng |magcs wh|chmcnhoId, thccompIctc
rangc oI unconsc|ous poss|b|||t|cs. . . . " hc undcrstand|ng oI man "gocs hom thc study
oIconsc|ous contcnt to that oIunconsc|ousIoms . . . scck|ng to atta|n, throughthc con-
sc|ous . . . morc and morc oIthc unconsc|ous" (I 963: 23, 24) .
21 . Hmandct c|tcscssmann's workonthc Iang as ancxampIcoI how anthropIog|sts
somct|mcs|nvokcthcnot|onoIthcunconsc|ous|nordcrto |nvcstnat|vcconsc|ousncssw|th
thc|r own a pr|or| |dcas.
Tessmann's "inforants could not always give him the kind of commentar that would suit [is)
interests. He had to interplate. This led him to complain that 'the earliest ideas surive unre
alized in the Fang and only through incidental, unconscious expressions can their coherence
b grasped. ' He treated with impatience explanations that did not meet his needs. Often he
was forced to draw his own conclusions, for 'the Fang will not split their heads over such mat
ters. "' (Frandez 1 982: 245)
22. LI. 5artrc's cr|t|quc oI Ircud's hypothcs|s oI thc unconsc|ous. 5artrc argucs Ior
thc un|tyoIconsc|ousncssthc way thc "unconsc|ous" |s const|tutcdthroughconsc|ousacts
and cho|ccs as much as |t |s rcc|proca||y const|tut|vc oI us. o |nvokc thc "unconsc|ous"
|n cxpIa|n|ng our act|ons and cho|ccs |s to d|spIacc rcspons|b|I|ty onto an a||cn sourcca
IomoI"badIa|th" (5anrc I 957) . ManyoI5anrc's cr|t|c|smswcrc prcsagcdby IoI|ttcr ( scc
Lapo|ntc I 97 I : I 5-I 6) .
2 3. hc hrst part oIth|s quotat|on | s hom Lrt|gucs and Lrt|gucs ( I 966) , on whom
K|csman rcI|csIorh|spsychoanaIyt|c |ntcrprctat|ons. 5cc Wobcr ( I 975: I 67-68) Iora con-
s|dcrcd rcv|cw oI^h|canstud|cs |n wh|ch thc samc |nv|d|ous compar|son |smadc bctwccn
"cxtcmaI|tcd" ^h|can and "|ntcmaI|tcd"Luropcansupcrcgos.
24. Nkrabea ( I|t. , "manncr oI tak|ng |cavc") |s thc ^kan tcm Ior "dcst|ny" ( M|nkus
I 984: I 32) .
25. LI. Lanquah, whonotcsthatamongthc^kanthce-su (phusis, or "mndamcntaIb|o-
phys|ca| naturc oI man") |s comp|cmcntary to n' kra, or "choscn sou|" (ncu, or "|ntcII|-
gcncc") . butdcst|ny, Ior thc^kan, |s not "woodcn or cast- |ron, but somcth|ng I|vcIy, mII
oI Icc||ng, dcs|rcd andrat|ona|" (I 944: 205) .
26. ^|though 5anrc | s comm|ttcd to an |dcnt|hcat|on w|th thc opprcsscd ( I 983) , thc
pondcrous and caba||st|c structurcs oIh|sph||osoph|ca|workoItcn const|tutc aIormoIop-
prcss|on ( Iostcr I 984: 24-25) . 5artrc's |dcnt|hcat|on w|th thc opprcsscd thus comcs pcr|I-
ous|y c|osc to an |dcnt|hcat|on on his tn, w|th no two-way tramc bctwccn thc subj cct
whod|scourscs and thc obj cct oIthat d|scoursc.
27. h|s strugg|c bctwccn subjcct|v|ty and obj cct|v|ty |s thc subj cctoIa br|II|ant d|scus-
s|on by Nagc| ( I 986) .
28. Lvcncp|stcmo|og|ca||yIaIsc modcIs canhavc "tnc" thcrapcut|corpract|caIcmcacy.
Morcovcr, as Korty notcs,
The utiliry of the 'existentialist' view is that, by prolaiming that we have no essence, it perits
us to see the descriptions of ourselves we fnd in one of (or in the unity of) the Natur-
Nots mpaes o- 197
wssechfr as on a par with the various alterative descriptions ofered by pets, novelists,
depth psychologists, sulptors, anthroplogists, and mystics. The forer are not privileged repre
sentations in virtue of the fact that (at the moment) there is more consensus in the sciences
than in the arts. ( 1 979: 36z)
z. Wh||ccx|stcnt|a|modc|sarchard|y"scicnt|hc, " thcycannotbcdchncdas"Io|k"mod-
c|s, wh|chmakcs|td|mcuttoaccommodatcW|rcdu'sprcscr|pt|onthatwccomparcWcstcm
and non-Wcstcm Io|k modc|s rathcr than Wcstcm sc|cnt|hc modc|s and trad|t|ona| Io|k
modc|s ( r do) . hc prob|cm w|th us|ng thc sc|cnt|hcIo|k d|chotomy |s mrthcr brought
homc whcn onc cons|dcrs that Ircud's a||cgcd|y "sc|cnt|hc" modc| oI thc unconsc|ous had
|ts roots |n "Io|k" modc|s ( thc crgodynam|c-hydrau||c conccpts |n h|s car|y wr|t|ngs) and
took root |n popu|ar consc|ousncssto thc cxtcnt thatpcop|c bccamc cond|t|oncdto cxpcr|-
cncc ||Ic cr|scs |n "Ircud|an"tcms ( Ocvcrcux r b. zo) .
I LL K . H LW L O L H I N L 5 WI H 5 LN L 5
r . K|chard Korty has argucd c|oqucnt|y aga|nst thc nco-Kant|an and pos|t|v|st |magc
oI"m|nd" or "|anguagc" miroring naturc.
The notion that our chief task is to mirror accurately, in our own Glassy Essence, the universe
around us is the complement of the notion, common to Democritus and Descartes, that the
universe is made up of very simple, clearly and distinctly knowable things, knowledge of whose
essences provides the master-voabular which permits commensuration of all discourses.
( I 979' 357)
z. 5cc, for cxamp|c, L|nstc|n's|cttcrtoMaxbm, whcrchcwr|tcs. "Quantummcchan-
|cs |svcry |mprcss|vc, but I amconv|nccd thatLoddocsnotp|ayd|cc" ( L|nstc|n r r . r ) .
. O thc a|catory charactcr oI human cx|stcncc and thc ro|c oI mag|c and sc|cncc
|n protcct|ng us aga|nst unccrta|nty, Ocwcy wr|tcs.
The visible is set in the invisible; and in the end what is unseen decides what happens in the
seen; the tangible rests precariously upn the untouched and ungrasped. The contrast and the
ptential maladjustment of the immediate, the conspicuous and foal phase of things, with those
indirect and hidden factors which deterine the origin and career of what is present, are inde
structible features of any and every experience. We may ter the way in which our ancestors
dealt with the contrast superstitions but the contrast is no superstition. It is a primar dtum
in any experience. . . . Our magical safeguard against the uncertain character of the world is
to deny the existence of chance, to mumble universal and necessar law, the ubiquity of cause
and efect, the uniformity of nature, universal progress, and the inherent rationality of the uni
verse. ( 1 9Z9: 44 my emphasis)
q. ^mong thc Mcndc oI southcast 5|crra Lconc thc tcrm Ior a d|v|ncr |s mm--
moi, | . c. , thc man who scts |n mot|on |ntcnsivc scc|ng, mm |s an |ntcns|vcIom oI m, to
|ook at, scc, as a rcsu|t oIa scarch, | . c. , to hnd (Harr|s and 5awycrr r d. r ) .
. hc trad|t|ona|modcoId|v|nat|onamongthccmnc, an-bere, dcr|vcs|tsnamchom
thc Mandc word bere, pcbb|c ( 5haw rd) and thc anccstra| d|v|ncr's namc among thc
cmnc, Konkomusa, cou|d wc|| bc a Mandc dcr|vat|on (Kok, |argc stonc, mounta|n) .
. Kuranko d|v|ncrs arc ncvcr womcn, butwomcn d|v|ncrs arc common |n many ^h|-
cansoc|ct|cs. Lus|| ( Lcv|nc andLcv|nc r . d-) , Ngun| ( Hammond-okc r . qd) ,
Lugbara ( M|dd|cton r . zzq) .
. ^ dcta||cd account oIa Kuranko man's |n|t|at|on |nto thc artsoId|v|nat|on |sg|vcn
|n|ackson r d.
d. hat La| conhdcd dcta||s oIconsu|tat|ons tomc |nd|catcs thc anoma|ous charactcr
oIthc anthropo|og|ca| |ntcr|cwand thcway abcrrantbchav|orpattcmsmayar|schom thc
pccu||arnaturc oIour modc oIacqu|r|ng know|cdgc.
1 98 Notes t pages -d
. O thc thrcc maj or catcgor|cs oI thc d|v|nc, on|y thc bush sp|r|ts (nyennenu) and
Lod arc a||udcd to |n th|s contcxt. ^nccstors arc ncvcrhc|d to bc thc sourcc oId|v|natop
mcssagcs or cons|dcrcd to bc thc myst|ca| tutors |n d|v|natory sk|||s as thcy arc among thc
1oruba ( bascom t ) , thc In, thc Lwc (Nukunya t ) , and |n Oahomcy (Hcrskov|ts
t ) . In Kuranko thought thc anccstors do not |ntcrvcnc act|vc|y or d|rcct|y |n human
aha|rs. h|smay cxp|a|n why |nd|v|dua|sarc ncvcr|nsp|rcdorposscsscdbyanccstra|sp|r|ts.
Ncvcrthc|css, d|v|ncrsoItcn attr|butc m|sIortuncs to thcanccstors' w|thdrawa| oIb|css|ngs,
prop|t|atory sacr|hccs arc thcn d|rcctcd |n ordcr to rctum th|ngs to a statc oI b|csscdncss
( baraka) .
t o. 5omct|mcs d|v|ncrs spcak oI hearing thc stoncs spcak rathcr than seeing a mcssagc
|n thcm.
tt . 5uchsympathct|crcsponscsarccvcnmorc|ncv|dcncc|nthccascoIdrcam|ntcrprc-
tat|on rccordcd |n|ackson t db. t zo-z t .
t z . ^s |amcs puts |t.
The tre thought is usefl . . . because the [thing] which is its object is usefl. The practical
value of true ideas is thus primarily derived fom the practical imprtance of their objects to
us. Their objects are, indeed, not imprtant at all times . . . . Yet since almost any obj ect may
some day become temporarily important, the advantage of having a general stock of extra truths,
of ia that shl be t of mly possible situtions, is obvious. We store such extra truths away
in our memories v . . . Wenever such an extra tt becomes pratically rlevant to o of ouT em
gencies, it pses f col-stoae t d wok in the wold, and ouT belief in it gws ative. ( 1 978: 98,
my emphasis)
t . ^mong thc ^tandc, Iorcxamp|c, somc mcn
are less credulous than others and more critical in their acceptance of statements made by witch
doctors. These diferences of opinion depend largely upn modes of upbringing, range of social
contacts, variations of individual experience, and personality. (Evans-Pritchard 1 972 : 1 83)
I I V L . H L I OL N I 1 LI H L OL ^ O
t . hc Iacu|ty oI s|m|||tudc |s a|so a b|ogcnct|c g|vcn, and Lcorgc 5tc|ncr's c|oqucnt
commcnts on thc "d|a|cct|c oI 'a|tcm|ty, ' thc gcn|us oI |anguagc Ior p|anncd countcr-
Iactua||ty" arc appos|tc hcrc.
Uniquely, one conjectures, among animal species, we cultivate inside us, we conceptualize and
prefgure the enigmatic terror of our own personal extinction . . . . It is unlikely that man, as
we know him, would have survived without the fctive, counter-factual, anti-deterinist means
of language, without the semantic capacity, generated and stored in the "superfuous" zones of
the cortex, to conceive of, to articulate possibilities beyond the treadmill of organic decay and
death. ( 1 973: 227)
z. 5|mu|at|on |mp||cs, oIcoursc, both gcnu|nc and Ic|gncd sympathy. Moum|ng |snot
on|y thc rcact|on to thc |oss oIa |ovcd pcrson, |toccursw|th "thc |oss oIsomc abstract|on
wh|ch has takcn thc p|acc oIonc, such as Iathcr|and, ||bcrty, an |dca| , and so on" (Ircud
t t ) .
. ^swhcndcath, gr|cI, andbcrcavcmcntsupp|ythc rootmctaphors| n|n|t|at|onr|tua|
( scc|ackson t b. t d t-z t ) .
q. Lvo|ut|onap b|o|ogy rccogn|tcs thc "powcr to dc|ayor w|thho|d thc |nst|nct|vc rc-
sponscs as an csscnt|a| prccond|t|on Ior thc cmcrgcncc oIadapt|vc var|ab|||ty hom w|th|n
thc r|g|d|ty oI |nst|nct-systcms" ( 5tcnhousc t q. do) .
. I cmp|oy bw|by'stcm|no|ogy hcrc. Kb|cr-Koss, |nhcraccount oIhowpcop|ccopc
w|th |mm|ncnt dcath, d|st|ngu|shcs hvc stagcs. dcn|a||so|at|on, angcr, barga|n|ng, dcprcs-
1 99
s|on, acccptancc. buthcrpattcm |sd|rcct|ycomparab|c w|th thc onc c|uc|datcdby bw|by
and othcrs |n rcscarch on scparat|on trauma and bcrcavcmcnt rcact|on ( scc Kb|cr-Koss
r o) .
. Lcrta|n|oca||t|cs,knownasmago faga funema, "pcrson, k|||, grasscdarca, " wcrconcc
uscdIorthc s|ay|ng oIcapt|vccncm|cs, |twasIorb|ddcnIoranyoncbutwarr|orstogo thcrc.
. hc scn|orjeliba passcs thc g|It to h|s own s|stcr's son, who thcn passcs |ton to thc
dcccascd's brothcrs. hc |ntcmcd|ary pos|t|on oIthc s|stcr's son w||| bc d|scusscd |atcr.
d. IorIu||dcta||s scc|ackson ra.
. hc tcrm qurntine comcs hom qurntin, thc Ita||an Ior "Iorty, " wh|ch was thc
numbcr oIdays oIscqucstrat|on cxpcctcd oIthc w|dow ( Iarkcs r . r dd) .
r o. ^ "scnscoI thc cont|nucdprcscnccoI thc dcccascd"| s charactcr|st|coI thc bcrcavc-
mcnt rcact|on oIw|dows ( Iarkcs r . ) . ^mong thc Kuranko, th|s may bc sharpcncd
by sc|I-rcproach and sc|I-b|am|ng, |ntrospcct|vc rcact|ons wh|ch arc oItcn charactcr|st|c oI
Kurankowomcn|ncr|s|s sccchaptcr) . Our|nglbinne, unIa|thm|w|vcsarc||ab|ctosuhcr
hom |nsomn|a ( Kamara t z. d) .
rr . hcs|gn|hcanccoIthcsunu kunye r | s d|scusscd| ngrcatcrdcta||| n|ackson r b.
t z . buxton ( Mandar|) r . r q, Morton-W||||ams (onba) r o. q. ^mong thc
LoOagaa, howcvcr, "thc |oss oIa chi|dshou|dbc Ic|t morc |ntcnsc|y than that oIa parcnt"
(Loody r z. z) and|t|sc|carthatmnifesttions oIgr|cI( ascontrastcdw|thactua|emotions
oIgr|cI) vary hom soc|cty to soc|cty, dcpcnd|ng upon conccpts oIthc pcrson, status, ro|c,
rc|at|onsh|p, ctc.
t . hc Kuranko assoc|atc sa|t w|th tcars, |t s|gn|hcs sympathy and attachmcnt to
thc dcccascd. 5aycrs ( r z. z) rccords that sa|t |s thrown |n thc bonhrc, togcthcr
w|th o|d c|othcs oI thc dcccascd, as "a sacr|hcc wh|ch |s to c|cansc thc sou| oI thc dc-
partcd Irom thc gu||t oI thc s|ns hc comm|ttcd dur|ng h|s ||Ict|mc. " ^s a g|It hom v|s-
|t|ng a|||cs, sa|t may havchad thc s|gn|hcancc attachcd to |t |n ^rabiccu|turcs-to sanc-
t| h|cndsh|ps and a|||anccs-but |t ccrta|n|y was a Iorm oI wca|th, cxportcd to Kuranko
hom thc coast and Irom thc Lu|nca p|a|ns Ior go|d ( Kup r . z, , q r ) . 5a|t and
catt|c had s|m||ar "va|uc |n cxchangc" and wou|d havc bccn appropr|atc g|Its hom po||t|-
ca| a|||cs.
tq. Kole, orKoli, wasacu|tassoc|at|on, oncoI|tsma|npurposcsbc|ngtoadmon|sh|ndo-
|cnt boys who wcrc |ax |n thc|r dut|cs oIh|ghtcn|ng b|rds Irom thc r|cc Iams. hc brass
masks and costumc oIpc|ts wh|ch 5aycrs (t z. z) dcscr|bcs arc unknown today, thc Kole
danccr wcars a c|oth "mask" w|th cowr|cs scwn across |t.
r . ^ sanku ||nk |mp||cs nu|||hcd or at |castanoma|ous status d|hcrcnt|at|on bctwccn
c|ans. hc symbo|soIthchcarth-ash, Iaggots,c|ndcrs-maysuggcstthc csscnt|a|amb|gu-
|tyoIthc s|tuat|on |nwh|chthc"supcr|or|ty"oIthc sanku j okcrovcrthc dcadpcrson( j ust
by bc|ng a||vc) must bc countcrmandcd by cqua||ycxaggcratcdstatusabascmcnt.
t . Loody ( t z . t o , t z-zq) has rcIcrrcd to thcpsycho|og|ca|va|ucoI "rcvcrscdcmo-
t|ons" |nd|stract|ngthc bcrcavcdhom thc grav|tyoIthc s|tuat|on. Hc has a|so notcd thc
amb|va|cncc oI thc m|mct|c pcrIomanccs among thc LoOagaa. thcy s|mu|tancous|y scrvc
anob|tuaporcc|cbrat|vc/commcmorat|vcmnct|onandamock|ngorc||m|nat|ngIunct|on.
t . hc rc|at|onsh|pbctwccnKuranko not|ons oIscxua||ty andthc |nstab|||ty oIamna|
t|cs |s morc Iu||y cxp|orcd |n|ackson r b.
rd. |ok|ng rc|at|onsh|ps bctwccn grandparcnts andgrandch||drcn "p|ay up" an |d|omoI
scxua| abusc. ^mong sanku partncrs, thcprcva|||ng |d|om |s oncoIstatus abusc. In both
cascs thc (scxua| or status) |dcnt|hcat|ons arc amb|guous. poss|b|y rca| , probab|y hct|t|ous
or hgurat|vc.
r. h|s |s rcm|n|sccntoIwhatumcrca||sthc"structura| |nv|s|b||ity" oI||m|na| pcrso-
nac. Inth|scontcxtthcmmne assumcsthcgu|scoIthcwomanw|thwhomshc|snom|na||y
|dcnt|hcd. hcr grandmothcr (mm) . In th|s way thc grandmothcr's |dcnt|ty and gr|cIarc
d|sgu|scd. LI. Loody ( r z. d, r z) on "moum|ng d|sgu|scs" among thc LoOagaa.
200 Notes t pages do
5 I X . H L WI L H ^ 5 ^ L^ L L LK1 ^N O ^ 5 ^ I L K 5 LN
t . Whcn a conIcsscd w|tch d|cs, h|s orhcrshadc |sknown aspuln. hcpuln haunts,
opprcsscs, and tcrror|tcs pcop|c, cspcc|a||ysma||ch||drcn. It |s oItcn sa|d that thcpuln rc-
scmb|cs a ||tard or assumcs thc Iorm oI a ||tard, and a puUn-catchcr may show pcop|c a
||tard wr|gg||ng |ns|dc thcbag w|th wh|ch hchas a||cgcd|ycaught aw|tch'sshadc. ^puln's
powcr cnab|cs |t to ||It country-pots or opprcss pcop|c |n thc|r s|ccp. 5o tcrr|hcd do somc
pcop|c bccomc that thcy arc phys|ca||y immob|||tcd and havc to bcstra|ghtcncdout |n thc
moming. hcorct|ca||y, apuln w||| notcntcrahousc thathas wh|tccottonovcrthcdoor-
way. IIitdocs cntcr an unprotcctcd housc |tcounts ohpcop|c |npa|rs, dcc|ar|ng "th|s and
th|sarc a|| r|ght, th|sandthisarca||r|ght"unt|| |tcomcstoas|ng|c andthcrcIorcvu|ncrab|c
pcrsonwhcn |tsays, "th|sandmysc|Iarca||r|ght"andprocccdstoopprcssh|morhcr. 5|ncc
pulan cannot attack two pcop|c at oncc, onc may takc prccaut|ons aga|nst puln-haunt|ng
by s|ccp|ng |n pairs.
z. N|c|sbohrrcIcrrcdto th|s"pr|nc|p|coIdcstruct|on"asthcAbtotungsprinzip. Lxp|ana-
t|ons, whcn pushcd too Iar, dcstroy ( "cxp|a|n away") thc phcnomcnon onc sccks to undcr-
stand ( Ocvcrcux t da. -t ) .
. LI. Mand|nka (Lamb|a) suubaga ( "n|ght pcrson") ( Inncs t q. t ) .
q. I I anyonc d|sturbs thc s|ccp|ng body oI a suspcctcd w|tch or | s w|tncss to such an
cvcnt hc w||| not makc th|s pub||c|y known |cst thc kinsmcn oI thc a||cgcd w|tch accusc
h|moImurdcr. hc Kurankopo|ntoutthat |nsuchcascsthcrc|sno rca|cv|dcnccofw|tch-
craIt. Iurthcmorc, to accusc a pcrson oIw|tchcraIt |s a scr|ous mattcr. O a|| cascs hcard
|nthcNat|vcLourt|n5cngbcch|cIdombctwccn t qand t on|ytwocascsoIw|tchcraIt
accusat|on arc rccordcd ( thc dcIcndants wcrc hncd andordcrcd to "bcg, " | . c. , apo|og|tc to,
thc p|a|nt|hs ) . hcso|ccasc oIwitchcraIt accusat|on wh|chcamc to myattcnt|on dur|ng
hc|dworkoccurrcd|nKamadugu5ukurc|a |n t . wowomcn, wccd|ngaIam, quanc|cd.
Lnc sa|d, "Now |ook, you arc a w|tchl " hc othcr rcj o|ncd, "1cs, I uscd to s|t on your
housc. " hc casc camc bcIorc thc chicI's court and thc accuscr was ordcrcd to w|thdraw
hcr accusat|on and apo|og|tc, thc womcn wcrc not rc|atcd. In anothcr casc ( a| hom
Kamadugu5ukurc|a) awomanwasnmorcdtohavcconIcsscdk||||nghcrbrothcr'sdaughtcr's
son by witchcraIt, but thc conIcss|on was madc w|thin hcr Iam||y, and hcr husband was
a "b|gman", nooncdarcdaccusc hcrpub||c|yoIw|tchcraIt. LvcnGbangbane docsnotmakc
dircct or spcc|hc accusations, thc cu|t mastcrs, ||kc ord|nary d|v|ncrs, s|mp|y asccrta|n
whcthcrornotw|tchcraIt isthccauscoIapcrson's|||ncssordcath. WhcnI askcdonc |nIor-
mant to g|vc mc cv|dcncc that w|tchcraIt rca||y d|d cx|st hc said that h|s know|cdgc camc
homthrccsourccs. "|thasanamcandwchavchcardoI|t","wchavcsccnpcop|cd|cbccausc
oIwitchcs", "w|tchcs conIcss. "
. LI. LoOagaa (| . Loody t . t ) . hc Kuranko admit that thc Iathcr's s|stcr cou|d
bc a w|tch but thc mothcr's brothcrncvcr, "hc bc|ongs to anothcrkebile. "
. ^|though "sorccry" ( thc usc oIpowcrIu| mag|ca| mcd|c|ncs, besekoli) may bc d|st|n-
gu|shcdIrom witchcraIt in tcms oIcxtcma||ycontro||cd and|ntcma||ycontro||cd powcrs
( Ooug|as t ob. tt , Lcach t t . zz-z) , |npract|ccthcd|stinct|on|snota|waysc|car. ^c-
cording to 5aran 5a||a5ano, a mcd|c|nc-mastcr (besetigi) usua||y spcc|a||tcs |n oncoIthrcc
branchcs oI mcd|c|nc. curat|vc and prophy|act|c (dca|s w|th am|ct|ons "causcd by Lod, "
altl kiriye, andw|thant|dotcsIoram|ct|ons"causcdbypcrsons, " mago kiriye) ; dcstruct|vc
( |nvo|v|ng thc usc oI hamm| mcd|c|ncs) , and dcstnctivc ( |nvo|v|ng thc usc oI curscs,
gborle) . Many Kuranko adopt a Iata|ist|c att|tudct od|scascs"causcdby^||ah" but takc ac-
t|vc stcps to prcvcnt and curc am|ct|ons causcd by human agcncy, | . c. , w|tchcraIt and
sorccry.
^s 5aran 5a||a obscrvcd on a numbcr oI occas|ons, w|tchcraIt and thc usc oI mag|ca|
mcd|c|ncswcrcqu|tcd|hcrcntth|ngs,hch|msc|Ikncwnoth|ngoIw|tchcraIt. Hccou|don|y
protcctpcop|c hom w|tchcs-and |nIactyoungboysoItcn staycd |n h|s housc whcn thc|r
parcntsIc|t thcy wcrc vu|ncrab|c to w|tchcraIt attack. hc sccond and th|rd catcgor|cs oI
Notes to pages 9I -I OI 201
mcd|c|nc m|ght bc |ab|cd "sorccp, " buta besetigi usua||y works onbcha|IoIa c||cnt and
|s notcu|pab|cIorwhathappcns to thc v|ct|moIh|smcd|c|ncs. IIapcrson hasa |cg|t|matc
gr|cvancc aga|nst somconc c|sc and a|| othcr avcnucs oI |cga| rcdrcss arc c|oscd, thcn hc
maycn||stthcscr|ccsoIa besetigi. Lhccks aga|nstthc abuscoIhamIu|mcd|c|ncsandcurscs
do, howcvcr, cx|st. IIagr|cvancc|s cnt|rc|y amattcroIpcrsona|ma||cc, thcnthcmcd|c|ncs
w||| bc |nchcct|vc aga|nst thc v|ct|m and thcy w||| rctum to harm thc pcrson on whosc
bcha|Ithcy arc bc|ng "scntout. " bcIorc a besetigi w|||cunc a man, h|sc||cntmust a|so takc
an oath, dcc|ar|ng "II I am unj ust/wrong |n my accusat|on aga|nst X thcn may I suhcr,
|I I am j ust/r|ght |n my accusat|on aga|nst X thcn may hc suhcr. " Howcvcr, a pcrson can
somct|mcs c|rcumvcnt thcsc chccks by purchas|ng powcrm| mcd|c|ncs hom a Iorc|gn sor-
ccrcr or Irom a mo ( Mus||m mcd|c|nc-mastcr) and thcn us|ng thcm |ndcpcndcnt|y. hc
cursc, on thc othcr hand, can ncvcr bc purchascd, |t must a|ways bc uttcrcd by a besetigi.
Morcovcr, thc cursc must a|ways bc madc pub||c. Not on|y |s |t an cxtcns|on oI sccu|ar
|cga| contro|s, |ts cmcacy dcpcnds upon thc v|ct|m know|ng hc has bccn curscd. hc
cursc |s on|y ||Itcd whcn thc ohcndcr conIcsscs or, |Ihc d|cs, whcn rcprcscntat|vcsoIh|s
Iam||y pay thc besetig to do so. hccursc (gbole) uscd by mcd|c|nc-mastcrs |s, oIcoursc,
qu|tc d|hcrcntIrom thc cursc (dnk) assoc|atcd w|th ccrta|n k|nsh|p ro|cs (s|stcr, mothcr,
Iathcr) .
7 Gbenkn |s sa|d to bc poundcd |n a mortar at m|dn|ght by a pcrson stand|ng on h|s
orhcrhcad and us|ng h|sorhcrIccttograsp thc pcst|c, thc pcst|cmakcs thcsoundgbenkn
gbenkn.
8. LI. Mam|ck. "InIomants may . . . makc vcp d|hcrcnt statcmcnts about thc samc
phcnomcnon whcn thcy arc spcak|ng gcncra||y and whcn thcy arc rcIcrr|ng to a scr|cs oI
spcc|hc |nstanccs" ( I 970: 284) .
9 ^ccusat|onandconIcss|onunder duress arcrcportcdIrom othcrarcasoI5|crraLconc.
L|mba ( I|nncgan I 965) , Mcndc ( Harr|sand5awycrr I 968) , cmnc (L|tt|cj ohn I 967) , Kono
( Iarsons I 964: 5 I-5l) .
I o. Lons|dcr, Ior cxamp|c, thc v|cwsoIIrcud onthc "psycho|ogyoIwomcn".
It must be admitted that women have but little sense of j ustice, and this is no doubt connected
with the preponderance of envy in their mental life; for the demands of j ustice are a moifcation
of envy; they lay down the conditions under which one is willing to part with it. We also say
of women that their social interests are weaker than those of men, and that their capacity for
the sublimation of their instincts is less. (Freud I 932: I 83)
homas5tastc|tcsth|sasj ustonccxamp|coI "scapcgoat|ng|nthcphcnomcnaca||cdw|tch-
craIt, hystcr|a, and mcnta| |||ncss" (I 97l: I 97) .
I 1. h|s d|scrcpancy has bccn notcd by othcr Îr|can|sts. Lray ( I 969: 1 7 I ) , Lcv|nc
( I 969: 239) , Kuc| ( I 970: 338) . Kuc|'s hypothcs|s that "|ntrospcct|vc" w|tchcraIt and r|g|d
stcrcotypcs tcnd to bc mutua||y |ncompat|b|c |s conhmcd by thc Kuranko data ( Kuc|
I 970= 334-35) .
n. Our|ng h|s hc|dwork among thc |c|gobc Iu|an| , Iau| K|csmannotcd that Icc||ngs oI
hurt or pa|n wcrc rarc|y |ndu|gcd or cxprcsscd to so||c|t sympathy. "It was thc samc w|th
a|| pa|n, phys|ca| and mcnta|. pcop|c ta|kcdabout |t hcc|y and objcct|vc|y, so to spcak,
butthcyd|d notexress |t by that |anguagc oI|ntonat|on andgcsturc wh|ch |s Iam|||ar to
us" (K|csman I 977: I 47) . ^ccord|ng to K|csman th|s cquan|m|ty wasthc rcsu|t oInc|thcr
rcprcss|on nor sto|c|sm, but oI contro|. "o namc pa|n and suhcr|ng |n a ncutra| tonc |s
to mastcr thcm, because the wod d not escae thoughtlessly but are spoken conciouly. . . . "
( I48, my cmphas|s) .
I 3 5cc K|uckho|n ( I 967: 83-84) and bra|n ( I 970: qo) on w|tchcraIt conIcss|on a s an
"attcnt|on-scck|ng dcv|cc" among "dcpr|vcd" |nd|v|dua|s. Kc|th homas (I 973) advanccs
a s|m||arargumcnt |n h|sworkonLuropcanw|tchcraIt. thc ro|c oIw|tchohcrcddowntrod-
dcn and outcast womcn a mcans, a|bc|t |||usory, oIprotcst and vcngcancc.
I 4. Inh|sstudyoIMohavcsu|c|dc, Ocvcrcuxobscrvcsthatw|tchcsoItcnpcrsuadcthcm-
202 Notes t pages r or -r
sc|vcs"byarctroact|vcsc|I-dcccpt|onoI thc 'opportuncconIabu|at|on' typc"thatthcyactu-
a||y bcw|tchcdsomconc who j usthappcncd to d|c at a t|mc whcn thcy wcrc cxpcr|cnc|ng
strongsu|c|da| |mpu|scs ( r b.d) . W|tchcraIt conIcss|on |s thus ak|ndoI"v|car|oussu|-
c|dc, " an |mpu|sc, Ocvcrcux notcs, that "|s a human, rathcr than a spcc|hca||y Mohavc
|mpu|sc. "
r . LI. L||vcr 5acks (r d. q) . "|t must bc sa|d a t thc outsct that a d|scasc |s nve a
mre loss o excessthat thcrc |s a|ways a rcact|on, on thc part oI thc ahcctcd organ|sm
or |nd|v|dua| , to rcstorc, to rcp|acc, tocompcnsatcIorand toprcscrvc |ts |dcnt|ty, howcvcr
strangc thc mcans may bc" (cmphas|s addcd) .
r . 5omcKurankomcncan|dcnt|w|ththcs|tuat|onoIsc|I-conIcsscdw|tchcsas arcsu|t
oIthc|rcxpcr|cnccsas m|grantworkcrs|n thc d|amondd|str|ctsoIKono. Itsccms thatonc
rcason why Kuranko mcn arc so rcad||y h|rcd Ior pos|t|ons oI tnst |n thc 5ccur|ty Io||cc
Ircc |s thatthcyarc honcst to aIau|t, oItcnconIcss|ngto cr|mcsthcyhavcnotcomm|ttcd
s|mp|y to "c|car thc a|r. "Kuranko mcn ||kc to vaunt thc|ropcnncssand |ntcgr|ty, butdocs
thc|r marg|na||ty and powcr|cssncss makc thcm "||kc womcn" and thcrcIorc prcd|sposcdto
assumc rcspons|b|||ty Ior somc oI thc rcscntmcnts and tcns|ons that pcrvadc thc d|amond
hc|ds '
5 L V L N . H L M^N WH L LLL L O L K N
I N L ^N L L L I H ^ N
r . O|v|ncrsa|waysdrcambushsp|r|ta|||cs|nhumn Iorm, and|nKurankoora|narrat|vcs
( tilei) w||dan|ma|stcndtoassumchumanIormwhcnthcycntcrav|||agc. hus, thcdoma|n
ofcu|turc"tamcs"ortransIoms an|ma||ty, j ust asthcbushmakcshumanbc|ngssusccpt|b|c
to transIormat|on |nto an|ma|s.
z. 5cc|ackson r dzb. r . ^|thoughshapc-sh|It|ng |sacommonmot|I|nKurankotilei,
wh|ch arc adm|ttcd|y makc-bc||cvc, thc hct|ona|charactcroIthc ta|cs docs not |mp|y that
shapc-sh|It|ng |sphantasmagor|c ( scc|ackson r dza. zr Ior cxamp|cs) .
. 5cc|ackson r d. chaps. z-zd Ior dcta||s.
q. ^ Iu||craccountoI5aran5a||a's apprcnt|ccsh|p |s g|vcn |n|ackson r d. chap. z.
. hc s|tt|ng mcmbcr's cand|daturc was w|thdrawn and 5cwa was c|cctcd unopposcd.
. My prcv|ous rcscarch on Kuranko totcm|sm had g|vcn mc to undcrstand that thc
totcms oIthc IIona c|an wcrc thc samc as thosc oIthc Koroma c|an. homcd v|pcrs, thc
brontc mann|k|n b|rd, and cag|c (|ackson r q. qo) .
. 5cc |ackson r d. r d-d.
d. hc tcms arc borrowcd Irom Io|any| (r d. -) .
. ^ Iu||cr account oI th|s subjcct |s g|vcn |n |ackson r dza. r -o and |ackson
r dzb. rq-.
r o. Lxccrptcd hom |ackson r dzb. r o- r , t .
rr. Ir a cr|t|quc oI thc |ntc||cctua||st|c approach to symbo|s, scc Ocwcy r z. dz,
t z-z, bourd|cu r, Mcr|cau-Ionty r z, and chaptcr d oIth|s book.
t z . 5cwa had bccn an M. I. |n thc hrst post|ndcpcndcncc govcmmcnt oI 5|crra Lconc
but w|thdrcw hom po||t|ca| ||Ic |n r .
r. 5cc|amcs r d. d, a|so scc Ocvcrcux r r a. d- and r . t z Ior vcry s|m||ar
v|cws.
r q. Lthcr contcmporap commcntators suggcstcd that |copard soc|ct|cs camc |nto cx|s-
tcncc as "countcr-mcasurcs to s|avc-trad|ng act|v|t|cs" and Iomcd to protcctpcop|c "hom
thc arb|trar|ncss oI thc|r ch|cIta|ns and k|ngs" ( L|ndskog r q. dq) . hus, barrct |n r ddd
sawthcphcnomcnon oIhommes-pantheres as"anout|ct Ior thc pcnt-up rcscntmcnt oIthc
s|avcs Ior thc|r captors, |t was thc mcans oIrc||cv|ng thc hungcrIorvcngcancc oIthc op-
prcsscd" (c|tcd by L|ndskog, d) . In th|s contcxt |t |s |ntcrcst|ng to notc thc rcasons Ior
thc sprcad oI thc Ngbc ( |copard) cu|t among thc banyang oI thc Lppcr Lross r|vcr c|rca
r qo.
Notes to pages t t -t 203
One of the main reasons given by Upper Banyang for the spread of Ngbe is the loss of status
sufered by men from their area when during the early period of administration they visited the
Lower area (where the administrative headquarters were and where Ngbe was already estab
lished) and were obliged to drink their palm-wine standing . . . . ( Ruel 1 969: 2 1 7 )
hc samc thcmc oI rcdrcss|ng |nj ust|ccs runs through buxton's account oI wcrc-mcn
among thc Mandar| .
The appearance of beast-men is not random; they are deliberately summoned by those who feel
themselves denied j ustice through customary channels, and are a recognized, if rarely used, ritual
sanction. An informant frst raised the subject of them with me in this context, comparing them
with acts like deliberate "rain-spoiling. " All are legitimate but dangerous ways of drawing atten
tion to wrongs, because the user, who confesses in the hope of regaining redress, runs a calcu
lated risk if widespread harm is thought to have resulted. ( Buxton 1 973: 262)
t . ^nothcroIthcaccuscd, bokar|, notcd |nthc samc tr|a| that thc baboon soc|cty |n
h|sch|cIdom wasthcsamc as thc|copard soc|cty c|scwhcrc ( Ka|ous t q. q) .
t . It | s |mportant t onotc that Lrco|c tradcrs wcrc oItcn known as "wh|tc mcn. " hc
tcrm dcs|gnatcd po||t|ca| status rathcr than phys|ca| appcarancc ( IyIc t z. zU) .
t . I t |s |mposs|b|c to asccrta|n thc soc|a|background and statusoI a|||copard-mcn, but
many wcrc s|avcs ( Ka|ous t q. t ) .
t U . hough wh|tcs and tradcrs were attackcd (Iyc t z. t o, Ka|ous t q. t ) .
t . I t |stcmpt|ngtorc|atcccrta|ncontcnt|ousIcaturcsoIthccu|tstoth|sthcmcoIpowcr.
thc not|on that donn|ng thc sk|n oI a |copard gavc "supcr-human strcngth" ( Ka|ous
t q. ) , thc not|on that cat|ng onc's v|ct|m "rc|nv|goratcd" or "rcj uvcnatcd" mcn past
thc|rpr|mcs (Lr|mth t t . v||-v|| | ) , thc not|onthatch|cIsprohtcdIrom |copardk||||ngsbc-
causc thcy cou|d sc|tc goods Irom thc v|||agc ncarcst thc p|acc oI murdcr and hnc thosc
Iound gu||ty oI |t ( IyIc t z. qqz) .
zo. Mc|chcrt uscs Kant's argumcnt conccm|ng thc "par|og|smsoIpurc rcason" t orcIutc
a common onto|og|ca| c|a|m oImyst|cs to havc undcrgonc comp|ctc cgo |oss.
The rational psychologist, taking for granted that this "I think" is a universal and necessar
condition for any experience whatsoever, believes that he can show by a priori reasoning alone
that the "!" (or the soul) is a substance, that it is simple, and that it can exist separate and
distinct from matter. What Kant brilliantly shows is that this cannot be done; from the consider
ation of the (supposedly) necessary and universal structure of experience, nothing whatsoever can
be know about the nture of the being hving the experience.
Though the argument for each of the four properties of the soul is distinctive, in each case
a similar mistake is made. A move is made from a necessary feature of our representtion of the
I to a conclusion about the real nture of the I. To put it another way, the move is fom a state
ment true by virtue of the analysis of concepts to a synthetic claim about the nature of some
existing being. ( 1 976-77: 452, italics in original )
z t . h|s |s how somc Kuranko |nIomants scc thc|r ora| narrat|vcs ( tili ) . hough
makc-bc||cvc, thcy scrvc as vch|c|cs Ior thc art|cu|at|on oIsoc|a| and mora| tmths (|ackson
t Uza. I ) .
zz. Ungeziefer: a |ow and contcmpt|b|c pcrson, a "|ousc", ||t. , "thc unc|can an|ma| not
su|tab|c Ior sacr|hcc. "
z. In h|s |cttcrs and d|ar|cs, Ka|ka "Ircqucnt|y rcprcscnts h|msc|Ias a th|ng and as an
an|ma|" (Lomgo|d t . z) . Lnccou|da|sorcmarkhcrcthcdchuman|t|ngchcctsoImcch-
an|st|c, obj cct|v|st |anguagc |n thc soc|a| andpsycho|og|ca|sc|cnccs. K. O. La|ngobscrvcs
thatsch|tophrcn|csoItcn cxpcr|cncc thcmsc|vcs as automata, robots, b|ts oImach|ncry, or
an|ma|s.
Such persons are rightly regarded as crazy. Yet why do we not regard a theory that seeks to
transmute persons into automata or animals as equally crazy? . . . Treating people as things is
204 Nofs t pages t t -z t
j ust as false as treating things as persons. We disparage the latter as animist thinking and wrong,
but elevate the forer to obj ectivity and science ( 1 966: 23, 24) .
L I L H . K N LWL L O L L LI H L b LO
t . I am |ndcbtcdto Kussc|| KcatIorhc|p|ngmcc|ar|Mcr|cau-Ionty's|dcas. Myopcn-
|ng scntcnccs paraphrascscct|ons oIKcat's papcr "Mcr|cau-Ionty and thc Ihcnomcno|ogy
oI thc bdy, " prcscntcd as a scm|nar at thc Human|t|cs Kcscarch Lcntrc, hc ûstra||an
Nat|ona| Ln|vcrs|ty, t dz.
z. Iatanj a||'s c|ass|ca| dchn|t|on oI yoga, wh|ch |ntroduccs thc 5utras, | s citr wtti
nirod, "w|thho|d|ngthcm|ndhoma||d|scurs|vcobjccts, oratota|rcsorpt|onoIthccogn|-
t|vc, conat|vc, andvo||t|ona|mnct|onsoIthcm|nd"or"thcb|ockagcoIthcobjcct-d|rcctcd
tcndcncy oIthc m|nd" ( bharat| t . , z) . hcm|ndbccomcs, not a b|ank, but |s"|dc-
a||ydcvo|d oId|scurs|vc |dcas and conccpts" (z) . hc |mportancc oIphys|ca| tcchn|qucs
|n yoga pract|cc |s summar|tcd by L||adc.
The important thing is that dan gives the bdy a stable rigidity, at the same time reducing
physical efort to a minimum. Thus, one avoids the irritating feeling of fatigue, of eneration
in certain parts of the boy, one regulates the physical proesses, and so allows the attention
to devote itself solely to the fuid part of consciousness. ( 1 979: 53)
Iucau|t's "p||t|ca| tcchno|ogy oIthc body" (t . z) |s a|so rc|cvant to my hc|d oI
study but |s not cxp|orcd |n dcpth |n thc prcscnt work.
. ManyoIthc rc||g|ous hgurcs |nKoman ||Icwcrchm|ygroundcd |nagr|cu|tura|prac-
t|ccs ( I|ora, Iomona [hu|t| , Lonsus ["thcstorcr"| , Kob|gus [b||ght| , Lcrcs [growth, cI. creare]
ctc. ) , and anc|cnt ||sts oI |nvocat|ons dcmonstratc how thc gods wcrc gcncra||y thought
oI|n tcmsoIpragmat|cmnct|ons ( thc "spr|ng|ncssoINcptunc" as |nthc gush|ngoIaIoun-
ta|n, thc"grow|ngpowcroIVu|can", thc"strcngthoIMars", thc cu|toIMcrcup assoc|atcd
w|th bus|ncss transact|ons, ctc. ) . hc gods wcrc not |ookcd upon to makc pcop|c my
bcttcrbutto contro| thc natura|Iorccsuponwh|chthcmt bascsoIprospcr|tyandhapp|-
ncss d|rcct|y dcpcndcd,pract|ca|and rc||g|ous act|v|tywcrc onc (Lg||v|c t . t o-z t ) .
4 In th|s account oIthc mcan|ngoIculture I havc Iocuscd on Lcrman antcccdcnts to
thc anthropo|og|ca| usc oI thc tcrm, Ircnch and Lng||sh |ntc||cctua| trad|t|ons bcstow
s||ght|yd|hcrcnt va|ucs on thc conccpts oIcu|turc and naturc (scc Lovcjoy t qd. - t ) .
. LI. Ocwcy, who notcs how thc c|ass|ca| d|st|nct|on
between vegetative, animal and rational souls was, when applied to men, a formulation and
j ustifcation of class divisions in Greek society. Slaves and mechanical artisans living on the
nutritional , appetitive level were for practical purpses symblized by the bdy-an obstrction
to ideal ends and as solicitations to acts contrar to reason . . . . Scientifc inquirers and philoso
phers alone exemplifed pure reason . . . no, pure immaterial mind. ( 1 929: 25 1 )
. hcrc |s an ccho hcrc oI Oobthansky's argumcnts, bascd on b|ogcnct|c cons|dcr-
at|ons, aga|nst thc cu|turo|og|ca| assumpt|ons oILcs||c ^. Wh|tc, who c|a|ms that cu|turc
can "bc cons|dcrcd as a sc|I-conta|ncd, sc|I-dctcm|ncdproccss, onc that can bc cxp|a|ncd
on|y |n tcrms oI |tsc|I" ( Oobthansky t z. -) .
. I havc borrowcd th|s tcrm Irom Kussc|| Kcat, who argucs that thc body has bccn
cxc|udcd hom soc|a| sc|cnt|hcd|scoursc through a twoIo|d proccss oI"cthcrca||tat|on" and
"matcr|a||tat|on. " Wh||c thc hrst g|vcs thc body to thc human|t|cs, thc sccond ass|gns |t
to thc b|o|og|ca| sc|cnccs ( Kcat, pcrsona| commun|cat|on, t dz) .
d. 5uchav|cwcanbctraccdbackcvcnmrthcrt othc^r|stotc||anmctaphys|ca|dotr|nc
that naturc |s an ordcrcd scr|cs hom |owcr to h|ghcr potcnt|a||t|cs and actua||tat|ons |n
Notes t pages r z r-z 205
wh|ch thc organ|c bodywas "thc h|ghcst tcrm |n a phys|ca| scr|csand thc |owcst tcrm |n
a psych|ca| scr|cs" ( Ocwcy r z. zo) .
. LI. Norman 0. brown's thcs|s that "Lu|turc or|g|natcs |n thc dcn|a| oI||Ic and thc
bdy" and "thc rccovcp oI||Ic |n thc body |s thc h|ddcn a|m oIh|stop" ( r . z) .
r o. Hcrconcshou|dnotc thcma|cb|as| nanthropo|ogytowardadopt|nguncr|t|ca||ythc
ma|c cmphas|s|nmanyprc||tcratcwor|dv|cws, dchn|ngwomcnassubscrv|cnt, pass|vc, and
|ow |nstatusand assum|ng thatwomcnarc |og|ca||y |Inotb|o|og|ca||yc|oscr tonaturc than
mcn arc ( McLomack r do. r-z r , Lt|cnnc and Lcacock r do. ) . It|s |ntcrcst|ng thatIcm|-
n|smhasp|aycd a s|gn|hcantro|c |nbr|ng|ngthc bodyback |ntod|scoursc bymak|ng |ssucs
such as rapc and abort|on cnc|a| to an undcrstand|ngoIsoc|a| |ncqua||ty.
rr . 5tud|csoI"matcr|a|cu|turc"havccomcto occupy an |ncrcas|ng|y marg|na| pIacc |n
anthropo|ogy, art|Iactsbc|ngdchncd as |ns|gn|hcant un|css, ||kcmasks, thcycan bc ass|m|-
|atcd |ntothchc|doIcogn|t|vc and symbo||c ana|ys|s.
t z. It |s rca||y on|ys|ncc thc t os that stud|cs oI bod||y movcmcnt and dancc havc
bcgun to assumc a s|gn|hcant p|acc |n anthropo|og|ca| |nqu|p. H|thcrto, Morgan's d|sm|s-
s|vc n|nctccnth-ccntup v|cw oI mus|c anddanccsccmcd to prcva||. "hcsc amuscmcnts
oIourpr|m|t|vc |nhab|tants arc not, |n thcmsc|vcs, dcvo|d oI|ntcrcst, a|though thcy |nd|-
catca tcndcncy oIm|ndunbchtt|ng rat|ona| mcn" ( c|tcd |n Koycc t . r o) .
r . Irancxcc||cntcr|t|qucoIsuch ctho|og|ca| approachcst o"non-vcrba| commun|ca-
t|on" and thc prob|cm oIobj cct|vc mcan|ng, scc Ioo|c r . q-r o.
rq. ^ccord|ng tohass-h|cncmann.
Whereas the conscious ego speaks through the rational verbal language, the observable behavior
of the body speaks an expressive language of its own. It may even say "no" when the verbal
language asserts "yes. " We understand this language of facial expression, posture, gesture, or in
voluntary bdily changes frst and best. The small child understands the facial expression of
his mother long before he understands the verbal language. ( 1 968: J8-39)
O thc phy|ogcnct|c and ontogcnct|c pr|macy oI non||ngu|st|c th|nk|ng, scc Vygotsky
t z. qz-qq, Hcwcs r . -t z, Kc|ch r q. r , d r , b|ack|ng t . z t .
t . LI. bachc|ard's not|on oI thc "houscd" unconsc|ous, and oIthc way mcmor|cs arc
houscd. Hcsuggcsts that thcsystcmat|ccxp|orat|onoIthc"s|tcsoIour|nt|matc||vcs"wou|d
bc a topoana|ys|s rathcr than a psychoana|ys|s (r q. d) .
r . LI. Kc|ch. "hc ||v|ng body not on|y mnct|ons bcIorc and bcyond word |anguagc,
morc than that, |t has its own specifc fas of exression which cannot be put into wods at
all . . . the biopathy, with its disturbed exression of life, is outsid the realm of lngage and con
cepts " (r q. r , , cmphas|s |n or|g|na|) .
q. LI. b|ack on thcbackgroundto hypnothcrapy. "hcrc |sthusa'somat|c m|nd' wh|ch
|s unconsc|ous and prcsumab|y w|thout any mcans oI vcrba||sat|on oI cxpcr|cncc-and a
'ccrcbra| m|nd' wh|ch |s consc|ous. but s|ncc thc bra|n and ncrvous systcm arc a|so pan
oIthcbody . . . thcd|v|d|ng ||nc bctwccn thctwo |snot a|waysc|car|ydchncd"( r . r ) .
O thc background to act|v|ty thcrap|cs, |nc|ud|ng r|tua| , scc d'^qu|||, Laugh||n, and
McManus r . t q, Lowcn r t . x| | , Kc|ch r q, Hrcnct| r .
r d. bc|ng| s "stand|ngprcscncc, " saysHc|dcggcr. hcrootst | s Iound| ntcmsIorphys|-
ca| , conccptua| , and soc|a|bc|ng.stand|ng, cstatc, undcrstand|ng, status, |nst|tut|on, const|-
tut|on, statutc, ctc. (5traus r . r q, cI. |antsch r . zd-z) .
r . bcst r d. r -q. I na s|m||ar vc|n, rcIcrr|ng t odancc stud|cs that rc|atc dancc to
|anguagc catcgor|cs such as syntax and grammar, ^nya Koycc notcs. "It may bc, |n Iact,
thatwc arcd|stort|ngthcphcnomcnon oIdancc by Iorc|ng |t |ntoa taxonom|c systcm dc-
s|gncdIor a qua||tat|vc|y d|hcrcnt k|nd oIphcnomcnon. h|stypcoIcompar|son may u|t|-
matc|ytc|| us that wc havc to dca| w|th dancc on |tsowntcms" ( r . zot ) .
zo. 5pcak|ng oI an angry or thrcatcn|ng gcsturc, Mcr|cau-Ionty makcs a s|m||ar po|nt.
"hcgcsturcdoes not make m think oIangcr, |t|sangcr|tsc|I . . . . hcscnscoIthcgcsturcs
206 Notes to pages t z-z
|s not g|vcn, but undcrstood, that |s, sc|tcdupon by an act on thc spcctator's part. hc
who|c d|Ihcu|ty |s to concc|vc th|s act c|car|yw|thoutconms|ng |tw|th a cogn|t|vc opcra-
t|on" t z. t Uq-U, cmphas|s |n or|g|na| ) .
z t . h|s v|cw |s c|aboratcdonby W|ttgcnstc|n |n h|s Philosophical Investigations t ) .
zz. h|s |sa t oncc cv|dcnt |n thc t|t|csoIbooks and cssayswh|chhavcpro||Icratcdsuch
phrascs as "body |anguagc, " "body symbo||sm, ""body syntax, " "body scm|ot|cs . "
z. 5cc, Ior |nstancc, thc sccond partoI thc |ntroductory paragraphoI chaptcr "hc
wo bod|cs") oINaturl Symbols r oa. .
zq. "It was thus not thc body that |mposcd | ts | awon thc m|nd. It was soc|cty that,
through thc |ntcmcd|acyoI|anguagc, took thc commands oIthcm|ndand|mposcd |ts |aw
on thc body" 5tarob|nsk| t Uz. z) . LI. Io|hcmus's commcnt on thc dua| prcoccupat|on
oIthcanthropo|ogyoIthc body w|thprob|cms oIcommun|cat|on and w|th a Ourkhc|m|an
modc| oIsoc|cty "as a ho||st|c bcast" t . o) .
z. InsoIarasWcstcmnot|onsoIcu|turchavc a||cnatcdusIrom thc body, thcrcduct|on
oIthc body to mcrc |nstrumcnta||ty |s an cxprcss|on oIa |ong-stand|ng h|stor|ca| b|as scc
May t z. z) .
z. hc cthnograph|cdatat owh|chth|saccountrcIcrs arcpub||shcdc|scwhcrc |ackson
t b) , and dcta||cd dcscr|pt|on hcrc |s kcpt to a m|n|mum.
z. ^||quotat|ons |n th|s paragraph arcIrom |ackson t b. t U t -Uz.
zU. LI. "^rc||g|ous symbo| docs not rcst onany opinion. ^nd crror bc|ongs on|y w|th
op|n|on" W|ttgcnstc|n t . ) . ^|so Maur|cc Lccnhardt's commcnt on Lanaquc myth
NcwLa|cdon|a, Loya|ty Is|and) . "What |s ||vcd cannot bc d|sputcd" r . t ) .
z. LI. M|chac|Lakcshott'sargumcntsaga|nstthcnot|onthatact|v|tyspr|ngshom"prc-
mcd|tatcd propos|tions about thc act|v|ty" such as thc grammaroIa |anguagc, ru|cs oIrc-
scarch, canonsoIgood workmansh|p, ctc. t z. t ). H|scxamp|coIthccookcrybooksuc-
c|nct|ysummar|tcsh|sv|cw. "hccookcpbook|snotan|ndcpcndcnt|ygcncratcdbcg|nn|ng
Iromwh|chcookcrycanspr|ng, |t|snoth|ngmorcthananabstractoIsomcbody'sknow|cdgc
oIhow to cook, |t |s thc stcpch||d, not thc parcnt oIthc act|v|ty" and a|rcady prcsupposcs
a know|cdgc oIcook|ng and a capab|c cook t t) .
o. 5cc L|stcr t . zU- Ior a cr|t|quc oIsuch thcor|cs oImcan|ng.
t . 5cc K|gby r U. t -q and Ngubanc t . t t- Ior cr|t|qucs.
z. ^|Ircd Lc|| a|so obscrvcs. "I havc bccn much |mprcsscd by thc many cont|nu|t|cs
wh|chsccm to cx|st bctwccn thcphys|ca| sty|coILmcdas mov|ng|n non-dancc contcxts,
and thc movcmcnts thcyproducc wh||c danc|ng" r . z) .
. Ior cxact dcscr|pt|ons, scc |ackson t b. t UU-.
q. Mauss t . , Ocwcy t z. z-U. IrankI|crcc|oncshaspo|ntcdoutthatOcwcy's
account oI hab|t draws c|osc|y on I. M. ^|cxandcr's thcop andpract|cc oI"usc" |oncs
t . t oo-t o ) , and I a|soacknow|cdgcan |ndcbtcdncssto^|cxandcr'swork, cspcc|a||yTh
Use of Self t t ) .
. 5cc bourd|cu t . b|ack|ng makcs a Iasc|nat|ngobscrvat|on about thc rc|at|onsh|p
bctwccn matcr|a| art|Iacts and pattcms oIbody usc.
careful analyses of the body movements related to the manufacture or uses of an obj ect may
contribute to our understanding of the social and mental processes of diferent cultures. Even
when only the artefacts are available and they may not have been retrieved from the places
where they were made, it should be possible to derive fom them some idea of the sequences
of wt body movement involved in their manufacture. ( 1 976: 1 2)
. 5cc my Allegories of th Wileress t Uza) , whcrc I arguc that ora| narrat|vcs
s|m| |ar|y provokc in pcop|c a rca||tat|on oI poss|b|||t|cs wh|ch arc rcgardcd as bc|ng
cxtrasoc|a| andbc|ong|ng to thc "bush" yctarc v|ta||y csscnt|a| to thc rccrcat|onandcont|-
nu|tyoIthcsoc|a| ordcr.
. Hypnot|c |nduct|ondcpcndsonrhythm|cst|mu|at|onandsomck|ndoIconstr|ct|on.
Notes t pages r z-z 207
5wadd||ng oI |nIants may cond|t|on hypnot|c rcspons|vcncss, but 5tcphcn b|ack argucs
that thc |ntrautcr|nc cnv|ronmcnt |s probab|y thc bas|s Ior thc hypnot|c pattcm|ng
(r . r r-) .
d. b|ack r . zdo-d r d|scusscs spcc|hc cxamp|cs.
. ^s whcn mcn draw thc|r strcngth Irom stoncs and hom mounta|ns |n thc Konke
("stonc mounta|n") cu|t or Irom bush sp|r|ts |n othcr cu|ts (c. g. , Kame) .
qo. ^s I havc shown |n chaptcr , contro| oIcmot|onsa t mncra|s| s cons|dcrcdcsscnt|a|
to thc scparat|onoIthc dcccascd'sshadcIrom thc ||v|ng commun|ty.
q r . LI. May. "|n thcproccssoIknow|ng, wc arc in-fced by thc th|ng undcrstood, and
|n thc samc act, our |ntc||cct s|mu|tancous|y gives fc to thc th|ng wc undcrstand"
( r z. zz , cmphas|s |n or|g|na| ) .
qz. h|snot|onoI "cmbod|cdw|||"| s convcycd| nthc ctymo|ogyoIthc word intentionl
ity. hc Lat|n stcm intendere cons|sts oI in p|us tenere, tensum, thc |attcr mcan|ng "to
strctch. " "h|s tc||s us |mmcd|atc|y that |ntcnt|on |s a 'strctch|ng' towardsomcth|ng" ( May
r z. zzd, a|so scc zqo-qz) .
q. LI. burd|cu on thc d|hcrcncc bctwccn "pract|ca| m|mcs|s" and vcrba| ana|ogy or
mctaphor ( r . t t ) .
qq. IranaccountoIthc anatom|ca|bascsoIm|mct|cbchav|orandthcm|mct|cIacu|ty,
scc Loss (r ) and 5ar|cs (r . z-z) .
q. h|s mcans that |m|tat|vc pract|ccs havc both a pass|vc and anact|vc aspcct, thc
pcrIomcr both d|scovcrs |n h|msc|Ith|ngs a|rcady thcrcand makcs thosc th|ngs happcn or
comc a||vc, as wc|| as charg|ng thcm w|th mcan|ng. h|s amb|guous scnsc oIthc conccpt
oI "|m|tat|on" |s c|car|y prcscnt |n ^r|stot|c's account oI m|mcs|s |n thc Poetics ( scc L|sc
r . z r ) .
q. bdy prax|s thus rc|nIorccs cmot|ona| and cogn|t|vc att|tudcs (cthos and c|dos ) . LI.
batcson's argumcnts conccm|ng thc pcr|od|c ohsctt|ng oI comp|cmcntary sch|smogcnct|c
tcndcnc|cs w|th r|tua||tcd Ioms oIsymmctr|ca| sch|smogcncs|s (r d. zdo) .
q. LI. Kc|ch ( r q)onthcrc|at|onbctwccncharactcrandspcc|hcpattcmsoImuscu|ar
spasm and "armor|ng. "
qd. Iracomp|ctcaccountoIthcscmora|prcccptsandthckccp|ngoIsccrcts,scc|ackson
r dza. chap. r .
q. ^ comparab|c cxp|anat|on has bccn ohcrcd Ior Icma|c |m|tat|ons oI ma|c bchav|or
|n thc Lu|u nomkhulbulwan r|tcs. Whcn Lu|u g|r|s drcss |n thc|r |ovcrs' c|othcs thcy say
|t |s a way oI |nduc|ng thoughts oI and cxcrt|ng |nhucncc ovcr thc|r |ovcrs who arc oItcn
||v|ng away |n thc m|ncs. "thc oncs wc arc th|nk|ngoIwhcn wc do th|s th|ng arc thc mcn
who |ovc us. Wc w|sh to th|nk oI thcm. . . . II wc wcar thc drcss oI our |ovcrs thcn
Nomkhulbulwan sccs that wc want hcr to ass|st us |n marry|ng thcm. . . . " ( bcrg|und
r . d) .
o. Lahan notcs.
One thing becomes remarkably clear as son as we begin to look at initiation. This is that,
frst and foremost, initiation constitutes a progressive course of instruction designed to familiarize
the person with the signifcations of his own by and with the meaning he gives to the environ
ment. Moreover, each of these is in a sense a fnction of the other: the human boy and the
world constitute two inseparable entities conceived in relation to each other. (Zahan 1 979: 56)
r. hc phrasc |s uscd by Mauss to dcs|gnatc a pcrson's |m|tat|on oI act|ons wh|ch
hc has sccn succcssm||y pcrIormcd "by pcop|c |n whom hc has conhdcncc and who havc
author|ty ovcr h|m" ( r . ) .
z. ^ncxcc||cntaccountoIth|smodcoI|cam|ng| s batcsonandMcad'saccountoIba||-
ncsc|cam|ng. "hcba||ncsc|camv|rtua||ynoth|ng Irom vcrba| |nstruct|on" ( r qz . r ) .
. LI. "Words must bc capturcd and rcpcatcd to havc mcan|ng Ior act|on, but thcrc
|s no nccd at a|| to trans|atc act|on |nto words ( batcson and Mcad r qz. r ) .
208 Notes t pages r z-
q. hcKurankowordIor intc||igcncc, hnkilimiye, dcsignatcscommonscnscandsa voir
Iairc, a modc oI bcing in-Iopcd, oIhaving soia| an practica| ski||s. ^s onc inIomant
dchncd i t, "intc||igcncc is thc way you do things. "
. ^s b|ackinghaspointcdout, musica|ityandmusica|productioninLuropcansocictics
havc incrcasing|y comc to dchnc distinctions at thc |cvc|s oI abi|ity, tastc, and c|ass and
to gcncratc thc i ||usion thatmusica|ity isnotaunivcrsa|Iacu|ty. Lomparing thc Luropcan
with thc Îrican situation, whcrc musica|ity is a common propcrty and musicians choosc
musica|Iormsthatcnab|cparticipation, b|acking asks. "Must thcmaj oritybcmadc'unmusi-
ca|' jin Luropcan socictics| sothat thc Icw maybccomc morc 'musica|' '" ( r . q) .
. 5cc|ackson r dzaIor a dctai|cd discussion i nthc contcxt oIora| narrativcs.
. I sharcb|acking'svicw, thathis "conccm Ior an anthropo|ogy oIthcbodyrcstson
a conviction thatIcc|ings, andparticu|ar|yIc||ow-Icc|ing, cxprcsscdasmovcmcntsoIbodics
inspacc andtimc andoften without verbal connottions, arc thc basisoImcnta| |iIc (r . z t ,
my cmphasis ) . ^ bri||iant cthnographic cxamp|c oIthc intimatc rc|ationship bctwccn pat-
tcms oIbodyusc andstatcs oImind isLc||'sstudyoIswinging, dancing, and ccstaticcon-
sciousncss (rdo) .
d. LI. Marcc| Marccau. "Lvcrything can bccxprcsscd through thc art oImimc, which
shuns thc dccci tm| words that raisc barricrs oImisundcrstanding bctwccn mcn" (citcd in
Koycc r . t o) .
. I. M. ^|cxandcrspcaksoIa"mcans-whcrcby"t ocontrastsuchpattcmsoI"usc"with
"cnd-gaining" ( t r ) .
o. LI. burdicu.
Obj ectivism constitutes the social world as a spectacle presented to an observer who takes up
a "point of view" on the action, who stands back so as to observe it and, transferring into the
object the principles of his relation to the obj ect, conceives of it as a totality intended for cogni
tion alone, in which all interactions are reduced to symbolic exchanges. ( 1 977: 96)
t . I am indcbtcd to Lhris Lrcgory for providing mc with inIomation conccming
thc c|assica| notion oI thc symbo| as a tokcnor ta||y.
N I N L . H I N K I N L H KLL L H H L b LO1
r . hat this thcmc has |ong bccn partoIbothrc|igiousan scicntihctraditions iscstab-
|ishcd by thc Io||owing quotations.
You never Enjoy the World aright, till the Sea it self floweth in your veins, till you are Clothed
with the Heavens, and Crowned with the stars; and prceiv your self to be the Sole Heir of
the whole World; and more then so, becaus Men are in it who are evry one Sole Heirs, as well
as you. (Thomas Traheme, Centures of Medittion 1 , 29)
But when you separate mind fom the strcture in which it is immanent, such as human relation
ship, the human society, or the ecosystem, you thereby embark, I believe, on fundamental error,
which in the end will surely hurt you. (George Bateson, Patholges of Epistemolog)
z. Nccdham r d. r . ^ristot|c was thc hrst writcr to usc thc word micrcosm; Nccd-
hamnotcsthat inthc Physics ^ristot|caskcd. iIsomcthing"canhappcninthc |ivingbcing,
what hindcrs ithom happcninga|so in thc ^|| ' Ior iIit happcns inthc |itt|c wor|d [micro-
cosm| , jithappcns| a|so inthc grcat. "Lontrary to thc impcrsona|vicw oIthc bodyIostcrcd
by modcm mcdicinc, ancicnt notions oI mcdica| scicncc Iavorcd this corrcspondcncc thc-
ory. hus, thc Is|amic phi|osophcr a|-Lhata|i (r od-rrrr ) wrotc. "Man has bccn tn|y
tcrmcd a 'microcosm, ' or |itt|c wor|d in himsc|I, and thc stncturc oI his body shou|d bc
studicd not on|y by thosc who wish to bccomc doctors, but by thosc who wish to attain
to a morc intimatc know|cdgc oI Lod. " ^nd thc bc|gian physician ^ndrcas Vcsa|ius, in
thc IrcIacc to hisdisquisition On t Fabric of t Humn Bdy, pub|ishcd in thc samc ycar
Notes t pages I 3 7-43 209
as Lopcm|cus'srcvo|ut|onapworkOn t Revolution of Celestial Obs ( I 543) , wrotc. "Ir
th|s [humanbody] |nmanypart|cu|ars cxh|b|ts a marvc||ous corrcspondcncc w|th thc un|-
vcrsc, and Ior that rcason was bythcmoIo|dnot |nappropr|atc|ysty|cd 'a ||tt|c un|vcrsc. ' "
(^|-Lhata|| and Vcsa||us c|tcd by Nccd|cman I 975: 38, 39 )
3 5cc csp. Coriolnus, act I , sccnc I , whcrc Mcncn|us'scc|cbratcdparab|coIthc bc||y
|s bcaut|m||y cxp|o|tcd.
4 In cthnography, synccdoch|sm |s thc "bc||cIorpract|cc|n wh|cha partoIan obj cct
or pcrson |s takcn as cqu|va|cnt to thc who|c, so that anyth|ngdonc to, or by mcans oI,
thc part |shc|dto takc chcct upon, orhavc thc chcctoI, thcwho|c" (Oxor English Dictio
nr) .
5 Ioctry may | nIact bc dchncd as "thc most conccntratcd Iorm oIvcrba| cxprcss|on",
dichten ( condensare) |sthc Lcrman vcrbcorrcspond|ngtothcnounDichtung, poctp. hus
poctp to condcnsc ( Iound I 96I : 36) .
6. h|s may bc part|y cxp|a|ncd by thc way pract|ca| |cam|ng |n prc||tcratc soc|ct|cs
|s usua||y a mattcroId|rcct |m|tat|on and notmcd|atcdby books orabstractvcrba|dcscr|p-
t|ons. hc Navaho v|cw of|anguagc as cmbod|cd |s not untyp|ca|. "|n thc bcg|nn|ng wcrc
thc word and the thing, thc symbo| and t object" (W|thcrspoon I 977: 46, my cmphas|s) .
h|s |nscparab|||ty oI know|cdgc and phys|ca| bc|ng |s brought homc by thc Maor| v|cw
that |mpropcr d|vu|gcncc oI know|cdgc can |cad to physical wast|ng and dcath, cascs arc
oItcn c|tcd oI th|s happcn|ng |n h|stor|ca| t|mcs (awha| I 98 I ) .
7 LI. thc Ma||nkc, whosc spccch ( kur) |s assoc|atcd w|th var|ous parts oIthc body
(Lamara I 976: 237-49) , andthcKuranko, whoscwordkole ( sccdorbonc) |suscdmctaphor|-
ca||y oIwords and th|ngs, c. g. , san kole ( "thc dccp sky") , dug kole ("thc barc ground") ,
kum kole ( "gcmanc spccch, " | . c. , thc words and know-how oI thc c|dcrs upon wh|ch
cvcryonc's ||vc||hood dcpcnds) .
8. ^s Moyn|han wr|tcs.
In his correspondence, Thomas stressed that all ideas and actions began in the body. As a result,
he insisted, the best way to render a thought or action, however abstract, was to express it in
as physical a way as possible. Every thought, for him, could fnd an equivalent in blood, flesh,
or gland. He saw it as his particular task to fnd and express all the equations between body
and world, between body and idea. (Moynihan 1 966: 48)
9 5cc, Ior |nstancc, |amcs Icmandct, who dchncs mctaphor as "thc prcd|cat|on
oIa s|gn-|magc upon an |nchoatc subjcct" ( I 974: 1 2o) . "In thc growth oIhuman |dcnt|ty,
thc |nchoatc pronouns oIsoc|a| ||Ic-thc ' I, ' 'you, ' 'hc, ' ' |t'-ga|n |dcnt|ty by prcd|cat|ng
somcs|gn-|magc, somcmctaphoruponthcmsc|vcs. hcscpronouns must, |n Mcad's ( I 934)
tcrms, bccomcobjcctstothcmsc|vcs, bytak|ng thc po|ntoIv|cwoI' thc othcr, ' bcIorc thcy
can bccomc subjccts to thcmsc|vcs" (I 22) .
I o. L. g. , "Mctaphor| s adcv|ccIor scc|ngsomcth|ng| ntcmsoIsomcth|ngc|sc. Itbr|ngs
outthc th|sncssoIathat, orthcthatncssoIath|s" ( burkc I 945: 503) . Inmak|ngh|sd|st|nc-
t|onbctwccntcnorand vch|c|c, I . ^. K|chardsspcaksoIthctcnoras "thcundcr|y|ng|dca
or pr|nc|pa| subjcct wh|ch thc vch|c|c or hgurc mcans" ( I 936: 97) . Morc rcccnt|y, Lakoh
and|ohnson obscrcd that "thc csscncc oImctaphor |s undcrstand|ng andcxpcr|cnc|ngonc
k|nd oIth|ng |n tcms oI anothcr" ( I 980: 5) .
I I . Icmandct, Ior cxamp|c, dchncs thc study oImctaphor as "thc study oIthc way .
subjccts takc objccts unto thcmsc|vcs or arc ass|gncd thcm" ( I 974= I 33) .
I 2 . hass-h|cncmann ( I 968: 370-7 I ) ohcrs a morc |nvo|vcd cxp|anat|on.
I 3 . ^s Mc|nhard notcs.
Limits in the recognition of cognatic kin by reference to "joints, " "little knees, " etc. , are already
recorded in the folk-laws (Lges Brbrm) of the pst-migration period (ffth to early ninth
centur) . Thus the Salian Franks reckon "usque ad sextum genuculum, " the Riparian Franks,
"usque quinto genuclo, " the Thuringians, "usque ad quintam generationem, " the Lr bards, Visi
goths, and Baiuvarians, "usque in septimum geniculum. " The diferences are usually explained
2 1 0 Notes to pages I 43-47
by variations in the mode of reckoning, e. g. , including Ego as the point of departure so that
the sibling represents the second geniculum, or beginning with the nearest collateral as the frst
geniculum. ( I 975: 3)
Ocgrccs oIk|nsh|p arc a|so cxprcsscd | n tcrms oIbody jo|nts among thc Iang ( Hmandct
I 982: 88-89) .
I 4. 5cc hass-h|cncmann I 968: 283 and, Ior thc s|gn|hcanccoI"curv|ng act , "277.
I 5. hc KurankowordIor houscho|dorIam||y| sdembaiye (Iromdemba, amothcrbrcast-
Iccd|ng a ch||d) and thc samc root d, mcan|ng "mouth, " occurs |n thc wordIor thc door
oIa housc, bundon d; ||t. , "granary mouth. "
I 6. 5uch th|nk|ng |s not charactcr|st|c oI cvcryday ||Ic |n c|thcr non||tcratc or ||tcratc
soc|ct|cs, and Ocvcrcux has cr|t|c|tcd Lcvy-bruh| and Ircud Ior thc|r Ia||urc to rccogn|tc
that cr|s|s and strcss arc thc un|vcrsa| prccond|t|ons Ior th|s k|nd oI "prc|og|ca|" th|nk|ng
(I 939: 332-33) . Icmandctmakcs a s|m||ar po|nt. "Lvcn |n supposcd|y soph|st|catcd soc|ct-
|cs, mcn |n situtions of ambigity o confict rctum to ||kcn|ng cach othcr and thcmsc|vcs
to hawks, dovcs, or ow|s, dogsor thc|r ohspr|ng, donkcys" ( I 974: I 22, mycmphas|s) .
q. Ir|nstancc, througha|coho|anddngabusc, |||ncss, domcst|ctumo||, cx||c, ant|so-
c|a| bchav|or, ctc. , wh|ch may cxp|a|n why somc pocts arc soc|a| m|shts and ncg||gcnt oI
thc|r hca|th and why myst|ca| cxpcr|cncc |s somct|mcs prcc|p|tatcd by | ||ncss or cr|s|s.
I 8. Irc||tcratc thought has bccn var|ous|y ca||cd an|m|st|c (y|or, I|agct) , pa|co|og|ca|
( ^r|ct| ) , mythopoc|c (Lass|rcr) , prc|og|ca| ( Lcvy-bruh|) , archa|c (L||adc) , and pr|mary
proccss (Ircud) , oItcn w|th pcjorat|vc |mp||cat|ons.
I 9 In h|s soc|o|og|ca| thcory oI sch|tophrcn|a ( I 939) , Ocvcrcux notcs t1at sch|to|d
mcchan|smsmaybcsccnasattcmptstoadaptto thcd|sor|cnt|ngmagn|tudcandcomp|cx|ty
oImodcmsoc|ct|cswhcrcthcrc|sno rca|-sca|ccompat|b|||tybctwccnthc |nd|v|dua|pcrson
and thc soc|a|and tcchno|og|ca|wor|dswh|ch ||cbcyondh|s comp|ctc know|cdgc andcon-
tro|. ^nthropomorph|cth|nk|ng|scv|dcnccoIancndcavortocxtrapo|atcIrom thcIam|||ar
to thc unIam|||ar, awayoImak|ngthccxtcma|wor|dsccmrcspons|vc andthcrcbymanagc-
ab|c. 5uch th|nk|ng |s ohcn a ccntra| Icaturc oIsch|to|d thought, wh|ch str|vcs to contro|
pan|c about thc traumat|c unrcspons|vcncss oI mattcr by |ntcrprct|ng phys|ca| proccsscs
an|m|st|ca||y, | . c. , onaparw|ththcsc|I(I 967: I 8-I 9, 32-33) . Wh||c I amgrcat|y |ndcbtcd
to Ocvcrcux's |ns|ghts, I do not acccpt that anthropomorph|c th|nk|ng |s necessarily crro-
ncous.
20. 5cc Kccs|ng (I 988) on mctaphors oI paths |n ûstroncs|an |anguagcs, brunton
( I 98 1 : 36I-62) on thc s|gn|hcancc oI "cxchangc roads" on anna ( Mc|ancs|a) , W||||s
( I 977: 279, I 978: 1 43) on mctaphors oI pathways among thc I|pa (amnia) , and|antcn
( I 978: I 69-7 I ) on thc Kongo (La|rc) corrcspondcnccsbctwccn body and v|||agc.
2 I . Kuranko d|v|ncrssomct|mcsrcIcrto"gatcs, " opcnorc|oscd, wh|chs|gn|thc status
oIrc|at|onsh|ps bctwccn apcrsonand cxtrasoc|a| agcnc|cssuch asbushsp|r|tsoranccstors.
22. I havc borrowcdthc tcm habitu hom Mauss (I 973: 73) and bourd|cu (I 977: 72) .
23. Kcspcct|vc|yk dugu and muu dugu ( "ma|c ground/arca" and "Icma|c ground/arca" ) .
hat dugu suggcsts thc cmbod|cd naturc oIth|sconccptua| d|st|nct|on | s shownbythc Iact
that thc word mcans, |n var|ous contcxts, "carth, " "ground, " "p|acc, " and "body. "
24. 5cvcn days aItcr a ch||d | s bom | t | s brought out thc Iront door oI thc housc | I |t
|s aboyor thcbackdoor|I|t|sa g|r|. ^mongthcnc|ghbor|ngMa||nkc, gcndcrd|st|nct|ons
arc ammcd |n a s||ght|y d|hcrcnt way, yct st||| bascd on thc matcr|a| habitus : at thc b|rth
ccrcmonya patcma| unc|c cntcrs thc houscoIthc ncwbom ch||d and comcs out w|th thc
mothcr and thc ch||d, wh|ch has a bow around |ts ncck |I |t |s a boy or ho|ds a k|tchcn
utcns|| |I |t |s a g|r| (Lamara I 976: 5 I ) .
2 5 . 5cc Lcv|nc ( I 976: I 2 I-3 I ) on th|s ^h|can pattcm oIcharactcr|t|ng soc|a| rc|at|on-
sh|ps |n tcrms oItypcs oI matcr|a| transact|ons. It shou|d a|so bc notcd that thc 5ongha|
usc thc mctaphoroIpathwaysonly whcn trcat|ngthc |||ncsscs thcydcscr|bcas "v|||agc d|s-
cascs. " "bush d|scascs" |nvo|vc a d|hcrcnt habitus and so rcqu|rc d|hcrcnt mctaphors and
c|cmcnts |n thc thcrapcut|c proccss ( b|s||||at I 976: 579) .
Notes t pages t q-z 2 1 1
z. Housc ( bachc|ard t q. q, bourd|cu t . d, Lahan t .- t ) , an|ma|s
( Icmandct t q. t z t-zz) , p|ants ( Lccnhardt t . t -zo) , mach|ncs ( La|ng t . zz,
bcttc|hc|m t ) .
z. Icmandct rcIcrsto thcbchav|or|stcontcnt|onthat"mctaphor|sthcdcv|ccmcnpos-
scssIor|cap|ngbcyondthccsscnt|a|pr|vacyoIthccxpcr|cnt|a|proccss" ( t q. t t ) andc|tcs
boas, who obscrvcd that mctaphors arc oItcn takcn ||tcra||y |n r|tua|s and madc thc bas|s
oI thc r|tc, | . c. , mctaphors arc not on|y rhctor|ca| dcv|ccsIorpcrsuas|on but pcrIomat|vc
dcv|ccs as wc|| (t z) .
zd. 5cc|ackson t Ior morc dcta||cd d|scuss|on.
z. 5cc M|||cr t . t q- Ior c||n|ca| cxamp|cs. I|shcr (t o. -d) suggcsts that
womcn arc morcproncto |cganx|ctythanmcn, mcn arc accustomcd to mov|ngoutaggrcs-
s|vc|y |nto thc wor|d wh||c womcn arc cxpcctcd to stay put |n thc domcst|c doma|n.
o. 5cc Ocvcrcux'ssupcrb account (t . qd-o) oIMohavc pattcmsoIpsychosomat|c
|||ncss.
t . 5ontag t . . Iora hca|th|crv|cw scc Lu|rdham t .
z. LI. Ocvcrcuxonthcsoc|a|construct|onoIthc |dcaoI"sp|r|troads"and"transIcrab|c
sou|s" among thc 5cdang Mo| ( t da. z t ) .
. LI. | . L. ûst|n's dchn|t|on oIpcrIormat|vc uttcranccs. "thc |ssu|ngoIthc uttcrancc
|s thc pcrIom|ng oI an act|on-|t |s not norma||y thought oI as j ust say|ng somcth|ng"
( t z. -) .
q. ^s Ocvcrcux has shown, such transIcrcncc a|so occurs | nsc|cncc. hc Lopcm|can
rcvo|ut|on paradox|ca||yohcrcd awayoutoIcmot|ona| d||cmmas. "by transIcrr|ng anx|cty-
arous|ng |ntcma| and |ntcrpcrsona|conh|cts to thc vau|ts oIhcavcn, man was ab|c to takc
h|s d|stancc hom thc prob|cms bcsctt|ng h|m and to spccu|atc about thcm w|thsomc mca-
surc oIobj cct|v|ty" (t . q) .
. 5cc Horton t . t -z on "sccondary c|aborat|on" | n ^h|can d|v|nat|on whcrc
var|ous cxp|anat|ons and thcrap|cs arc tr|cd scr|a||y. by contrast, |antcn has shown
(t d. zoozot ) anothcr k|nd oIp|ura||sm among thc baKongo whcrc pcop|c scck scvcra|
d|hcrcntd|agnoscs and cmp|oy scvcra|d|hcrcntthcrap|cs s|mu|tancous|y.
. hc d|agnost|c modc|suggcstcdhcrc c|osc|yrcscmb|csthc ao|stmodc|, wh|chdocs
not rank causcs |n ah|crarchyorcha|n but cxp|orcsthc "s|dc-by-s|dc" pattcm|ng oIcauscs
and thc "|nduct|on chcct" wh|ch |ntcrrc|atcs thcm w|th|n a un|tary hc|d, rathcr ||kc thc
"cndocr|ncorchcstra"oImodcmb|o|ogy (Nccdham t d. t -d) .
. LI. Lass|rcr. "Whcrcas cmp|r|ca| th|nk|ng | s csscnt|a||y d|rcctcd toward cstab||sh|ng
an uncqu|voca| rc|at|onbctwccnspecifc 'causcs' andspecifc 'chccts, ' myth|ca|th|nk|ng . . .
has ahcc sc|cct|onoIcauscsat |tsd|sposa|. ^nyth|ngcancome from anyth|ng, bccauscany-
th|ng can stand |n tcmpora| or spat|a| contact w|th anyth|ng" (t . q) .
d. Lnc notab|c cxccpt|on |s thc 5|montons' usc oI v|sua||tat|on and mctaphor|tat|on
|n canccrthcrapy (5|monton and 5|monton t do) .
. Lr|kson notcs that | I a ch||d | s ||| a grandmothcr | s oItcn summoncd to s|ng thc a||-
mcntaway. "^mcr|canInd|ans|ngcncra|sccmtohavcahncundcrstand|ngoIamb|va|cncc,
wh|ch d|ctatcs that |n ccrta|n cr|scs ncar-rc|at|vcs arc oIno cducat|ona| orthcrapcut|c usc"
( t q . zt ) .
qo. Icppcr on "root mctaphors" (t . d, t ) .
qt . h|s"rcstr|ct|ontoconcrctcncss . . . prcvcntsthcpat|cntIromg|v|ngamctaphor|ca|
mcan|ng to provcrbs, thcy arc |ntcrprctcd ||tcra||y or vcry concrctc|y" ( ^r|ct| t . z) .
qz. ^r|ct| t . zdo. LI. Lass|rcr, who c|a|ms that | n "myth|ca| consc|ousncss" "thc
' |magc'docsnotrcprcscntthc ' th|ng' , |tis thc th|ng, |tdocsnotmcrc|ystandIor thcobj cct,
but has thc samc actua||ty, so that |t rcp|accs thc th|ng's |mmcd|atc prcscncc" (t . d) .
Myobjcct|ont oth|swayoIcharactcr|t|ngprc||tcratcthought| s that| t |mp|icsthatprc||tcr-
atcpcop|cs arcsomchowtrappcdby apropcns|tytoconmscwordsand th|ngs. ^nyoncwho
has actua||y ||vcd among prc||tcratc pcop|csknowsvcry wc|| that th|s |snonscnsc and that
thc concrctcncss and ms|ons |n prc||tcratc wor|d v|cws rchcct an cth|ca| prcIcrcncc Ior a
212 Notes to pages tz-d
ph||osophythat|sconduc|vctocommun|tyrathcrthan |nd|v|dua||sm, |t|san |ndcxoIpos|-
t|vc comm|tmcnt, not oI |nadcquacy or |ntc||cctua| |mpovcr|shmcnt.
q. 5cc^r|ct| t . zdIorthcnot|onoIaho||sm( |nab|||tytopcrcc|vcwho|cs, thcd|s|n-
tcgrat|on oI who|cs) and bcttc|hc|m (t ) Ior a rcmarkab|c account oI an aut|st|c ch||d
whowasstuckw|thav|cwoIh|msc|Iasamach|nc. "Notcvcrych||dwhoposscsscsaIantasy
wor|d |sposscsscd by |t. Noma|ch||drcnmayrctrcat |nto rca|ms oI|mag|naryg|oryormag|c
powcrs, butthcyarc cas||y rcca||cdIrom thcsccxcurs|ons. O|sturbcdch||drcnarcnota|ways
ab|ctomakcthcrctumtr|p, thcyrcma|nw|thdrawn, pr|soncrsoIthc|nncrwor|doIdc|us|on
and Iantasy" ( bcttc|hc|m t . t) .
qq. La|ngwr|tcs thatpcop|c who rcgard thcmsc|vcs as automata, robots, b|tsoI mach|n-
cp, oran|ma|sarccraty, "yct, whydowcnotrcgardathcorythatscckstotransmutcpcrsons
|nto automata or an|ma|s as cqua||y craty'" t . z) . Lnc ph||osophcr who acccpts that
mctaphor has a p|acc |n ph||osoph|ca| d|scoursc |s Max b|ack, who argucs that mctaphor
|s "const|tut|vc oImcan|ng" and not mcrc|y an cmbc|||shmcnt wh|ch can bcst bc rcp|accd
by "p|a|n |anguagc" ( t z. q) .
q. hc rcIcrcncc t othc "Ln||ghtcnmcnt" puts onc | nm|ndoIthc v|cwoIHorkhc|mcr
and^domo ( t z. -qz) thatthcdom|nanccoIsc|cnt|hcrat|ona||smdur|ngthc Ln||ghtcn-
mcntcou|don|ybcach|cvcdthroughadcn|a|oIthcanthropomorph|cv|cwthatman'sbody
was||nkcdtosoc|a|andnatura|bod|cs. hcassoc|atcdsp||tt|ngoIthc th|nk|ngsubj cct-h|s
pcrsona||ty and h|stor|ca||ty-hom d|scoursc was a|so accompan|cd by a sp||tt|ng oI thc
phys|ca| bodyhom M|nd ( Ioo|c t z . t o) .
q. hat M||| was strugg||ng w|th unrcso|vcd Lcd|pa| conh|cts | s suggcstcd bythc Iact
that thc on|y "sma|| ray oI ||ght" that brokc |n upon h|s g|oom dur|ng th|s pcr|od was a
d|rcct rcsu|t oIh|s rcad|ng Mamontc|'s Memoirs: "I . . . camc to thc passagc wh|ch rc|atcs
h|sIathcr'sdcath, thcd|strcsscdpos|t|onoIthcIam||y, andthcsuddcn|nsp|rat|onbywh|ch
hc, thcnamcrc boy, Ic|tandmadc thcmIcc|thathcwou|dbc cvcryth|ngto thcm-wou|d
supp|y thc p|acc oIa|| that thcy had |ost. ^ v|v|d conccpt|on oIthc sccnc and |ts Icc||ngs
camcovcrmc, and I was movcd to tcars. Irom th|smomcntmy burthcn grcw ||ghtcr" ( M|||
t d t . t q) .
q. Iau| Va|cry rcgu|ar|y uscd thc rhythms oI wa|k|ng to br|ng h|m a "qu|ckcncd how
oI|dcas" (Wc|sh t d. t z) , and|ohn bow|byhas po|ntcd out, |nh|sd|scuss|onoIthc sooth-
|ngchcctsoIrock|nga baby, that thc mostchcct|vcrock|ngrhythm |ss|xty cyc|cs am|nutc
or abovc, | . c. , "thc ratc at wh|ch an adu|t wa|ks" ( t t . ) .
L N . H L M I L K ^ I LN LI ^ N ^ ML
t . h|s scnsc oI cstrangcmcnt wh|ch hc|dwork |nvo|vcs mcans that anthropo|og|sts
m|ght bc cspcc|a||y attractcd to hcmcncut|cs, wh|ch ca||s attcnt|on to thc Iact that "thc
|ack oI|mmcd|atc undcrstandab|||ty oItcxtshandcddownto us h|stor|ca||y or thc|rpronc-
ncss to bc m|sundcrstood |s rca||y on|y a spcc|a| casc oI what |s to bc mct |n a|| human
or|cntat|on to thc wor|d as thc atopon ( thc strangc) , that wh|ch docs not 'ht' |nto thc cus-
tomary ordcr oIour cxpcctat|ons bascd on cxpcr|cncc" (Ladamcr t . zq) .
z. ^s 1vcs Icrson has notcd, "Îa|r|y gcncra| ru|c, wh|ch ho|dsgoodIorora| trad|t|on
as a who|c, |s thatmcmory|s on|y asgoodasIarbackas thc |ast m|grat|onandbcg|nsw|th
thc sctt|cmcntoIa group |n thc|rprcscnttcrr|tory" (t . z tt ) . hus, d|hcrcntora|sourccs
oI barawa trad|t|on vap and conh|ct bcyond thc t|mc oI Mar|n amba, whosc two sons,
Morowaand ba|ansama, cstab||shcd tworu||nghouscsw|th|n thconcMarahn||ng ||ncagc.
. Icrson notcs that thc Iarthcr south onc gocs hom northcm Ma||, thc morc thc ar-
ch|va| ro|c oIgiots dcgcncratcs and thcy bccomc hattcrcrs oIch|cIs, omc|a| pra|sc-s|ngcrs,
and pub||c cntcrta|ncrs (t . zo) .
q. 5cc Noman0. brown ( t ) on thc ro|c oIHcmcs as bard, hcra|d, |ntcrccssory,
andcontro||croIstrangcrs. I havcd|scusscdthc amb|gu|tyoImcsscngcrs c|scwhcrc (|ackson
Notes t pages t d-t 21 3
t , t dza) , and thccorrupt|onoImcssagcs| s accntra|mot|I|n^h|canmythscxp|a|n|ng
thc or|g|ns oIdcath (^brahamsson t t ) .
. Namu |s hom thc ^rab|c n' am, an |ntcrjcct|on to s|gn| that onc has hcard and
undcrstood what somconc |s say|ng, part|cu|ar|y a ch|cI.
. In Kuranko yigi mcans "hopc" or"tnst, " and a pcrson can p|acc h|s tnst |n anothcr
pcrson ( | . c. , a mcntor) by say|ng
"
n n' yigi sig bi r n sin, " "|ct mc my tnst/hopc p|acc
|nyou, notIortodaybutIor tomorrow. " Inbr|cI, amcntor|sahc|pmatcouts|dcthck|nsh|p
c|rc|c whom onc can ca|| upon |n t|mcs oInccd.
. Wagadu |s thc Mand|ngo namc Ior thc |and oI o|d Lhana, ru|cd ovcr by thc
ounkara-L|ssc. Lhana was cc||pscd by thcadvcntoI thc Mandc cmp|rc |n thc car|y th|r-
tccnth ccntury.
d. ^ccord|ngto ora| trad|t|ons I havc co||cctcd |n northcm5|crra Lconc, thc var|ous
Kuranko "countr|cs" wcrc not occup|cd by 5aramba's sons but wcrc a||ocatcd by 5aramba
to subscqucnt arr|va|s bc|ong|ng to othcr c|ans, notab|y Kargbo and Koroma.
. 5aycrs notcs. "IIno othcrpra|schassuccccdcd |n cxtract|nga prcscnthom a m|scr|y
ch|cI, thc 1c|| w||| p|ay h|s tnmp card, that oI compar|ng h|s patron to thc grcat
1unkhcman| , and th|s rarc|y Ia||s to |ooscn thc pursc str|ngs" (t z. do) . In mcd|cva| Lu-
ropc, troubadors and jong|curs d|d ||kcw|sc, mak|ng thc|r homc "|n that court whcrc thcy
wcrcbcstrcwardcd"andcomb|n|ng"pra|scoIthc|r||bcra||ordw|thasgrat||ngad|sparagc-
mcnt oIh|s c|osc-hstcd r|va|s" (Lary t . zt q) .
t o. No|css|ron|c| s thcIactthatthcc|ass|ca|hgurcoIHcrmcs, thcpatronoI|ntcrprctcrs,
|s assoc|atcd w|th thcIt and tr|ckcry ( brown t . -t o) .
t t . 5aycrs g|vcs a Mand|ngo Io|k ctymo|ogy bascd on ke (hom) p|us nni (Iour) .
Ou|camon |s a|so a namc Ior thc Iorty-scvcnth propos|t|on oIthc hrst book oILuc||d ( thc
syllogismum comutum) .
t z. ^ctua||y, N|anc says that Ohu|-Quamc|n was anothcr namc oI5unj ata, who n|cd
|n Mandc bctwccn about t zoand t z ( t . o) , and 5aycrs says that1urukhcman| was
"probab|y a Ma|| k|ng undcr anothcr namc" ( t z. do) . Lcrta|n|y thc Lhana k|ngs, whom
5unj atacc||pscd, traccd thc|rdcsccnt to ^|cxandcr, and 5unj atac|car|y |m|tatcdand cmu-
|atcd ^|cxandcr |n h|s campa|gns and |n h|s ||Ic (ronson t dz) .
r . hc sourccs and rcasons Ior ^|cxandcr'sj oumcyt o5|waarc conIus|ng. Kob|n Lanc
Ix has c|ar|hcd mattcrs cons|dcrab|y, cspcc|a||y thc h|stor|ca| background to how thc
Lrccks camc to acknow|cdgc ^mmon ( thc Lgypt|an ^mun, cI. Lrcck ammos, sand) as a
Iorm oI thc|r L|ymp|an Lcus ( Ix r . zoo-z r d) .
t q. ^ccord|ng to 5t. |cromc thc ram`s two homs rcprcscnt Oar|us's two k|ngdoms oI
Mcd|a and Icrs|a (Lap t . t zo) .
t . hc Is|am|c cmp|rc oIthc ^|morav|ds conqucrcd Lhana | n t o, and thc Mandc
cmp|rc, wh|chrcachcd |tstcn|thbctwccnthccar|yth|rtccnthand |atcIourtccnthccntur|cs,
rcta|ncd c|osc trad|ng ||nks w|th thc ^rab wor|d ( scc L||vcr and Iagc t z. -t) .
t . hc Marahca|| thcmsc|vcs sunike, wh|ch may mcan "ru|cr" or "non-Mus||m, " aIact
wh|ch corroboratcs ora| trad|t|ons that thc Marah havc a|ways kcpt thcmsc|vcs a|ooIIrom
Is|am ( thc morye) . Ncvcrthc|css, Is|am|c hcrocs (Moscs, Muhammad, Noah, 5o|omon)
oItcn hgurc |n Kuranko trad|t|on, w|thout anyawarcncssoIthc|ractua|or|g|ns. Inthc casc
oI 1||kanan|, who |s assoc|atcd w|th Muhammad |n Iaraba Ocmba's narrat|vc (bccausc
Iaraba Ocmba |s a Mus||m) , |t |s usua||y thc casc that pra|sc-s|ngcrs do not assoc|atc th|s
hcrow|th Is|am, s|ncc thc Maraharc non-Mus||m.
t . Most oIthc ^|cxandcr romanccs can bc traccd back to somc t|mc aItcr A. D. zoo,
whcn an anonymous ^|cxandr|anwrotc a Iabu|ous account oI^|cxandcr wh|ch wasIa|sc|y
attr|butcd to La|||sthcncs, ^|cxandcr'scompan|onandh|stor|an. h|sworkwas trans|atcd
hom thc Lrcck |nto Lat|nby|u||us Va|cr|us, an^h|can and hccdman, about A. D. zoo,
butboth Lat|n and Lrcck vcrs|ons wcrc d|sscm|natcd w|dc|y through Luropc andthcLast,
and|twasnotunt|| thcKcna|ssancc that thc h|stor|cs oI^rr|an, I|utarch, O|odons, and
Qu|ntus Lurt|us wcrc rcIcrrcd to as mcans oI cstab||sh|ng thc tnth about ^|cxandcr's
2 1 4 Notes t pages t t-
conqucsts ( Iox t . z-z, budgc t . xv-xv||, Lary t . -t o, boy|c t q. z ,
t . t -t ) . I t | s Iasc|nat|ng that thc pscudo-La|||sthcncs tcxt, hom wh|ch ^|cxandcr's
mctamorphos|sbcgan, camc to ||ghtdur|ng thc samcccnturywh|chsaw thc d|sappcarancc
oI^|cxandcr's body hom thc go|dcn caskct whcrc |t had |a|n |n statc s|ncc h|s dcath, and
that thc appcarancc oI thc Iabu|ous story and thc d|sappcarancc oI thc body shou|d havc
occurrcd |n thc samc p|acc.
t U. LI. Iox ( t . z) . "^|cxandcr |s thc subjcct Ior a scarch, not a story, Ior such was
thc sty|c and contcnt oIh|s hrst wr|ttcn h|stor|cs that any conhdcntnarrat|vc can on|y bc
d|srcputab|c. "
t . LI. borta ( t q. ) .
No amount of rational method i n historical study has ever quite been able to displace certain
personal idiosyncracies in the investigators themselves. Thus the modem image of Alexander,
while heavily dependent on the use of the technique of rational inquiry, still often reflects the
personality of the historian.
zo. In 5artrc's words.
Ce que j ' appelle le vecu, c'est precisement !'ensemble du processus dialectique de Ia vie
psychique, un processus qui reste necessairement opaque a lui-meme car il est une constante
totalisation, et une totalisation qui ne peut etre consciente de ce qu'elle est. Ou peut etre
conscient, en efet, d'une totalisation exterieure, mais non d'une totalisation qui totalise
egalement Ia conscience. En ce sens, l vecu est 1oujours susceptible d comprehension, jamis d
connissance. ( 1 972: I I I , my emphasis; cf. Sartre 1 969:49)
z t . In Iact, as part oI my rcscarch on thc |mpact oI ||tcracy among thc Kuranko
Icn||stcdmy s|stcr'shc|p |nhnd|ng andus|ngpsycho|og|ca|tcsts, thoughIwastcmpcramcn-
ta||yunsu|tcdto th|s k|ndoImcthodo|ogy. Itwasas |II was str|v|ng toproduccdatawh|ch
wcrc sound by hcr (pos|t|v|st) standards.
zz. ^sMarcusc(t .) andHorkhc|mcr and^domo( t z) havcpo|ntcdout, th|s
aggrcss|vc and dom|nccr|ngIormoIrat|ona||ty cmcrgcs w|th thc Ln||ghtcnmcnt, yct, |n |ts
twoIo|d obscss|on tocontro|naturcandcocrccothcrhumanbc|ngs, |tcp|tom|tcsthc mod-
cm cthos, ram||ng |nto sc|cncc, po||t|cs, art, and tcchno|ogy. h|s tcchn|c|st att|tudc
tcnds, morcovcr, to cxc|udc thc th|nkcr Irom thc doma|n oI thought, crcat|ng thcrcby a
Iatuous obj cct|v|ty |n wh|ch sc|I-cr|t|ca| and sc|I-rchcct|vc act|v|ty arc a|most noncx|stcnt
( Ioo|c t z. t o) .
z. Lonv|v|a||tydcs|gnatcs"thcoppos|tcoI|ndustr|a|act|v|ty"andrcIcrst o"autonomous
and crcat|vc |ntcrcoursc amongpcrsons, and thc |ntcrcourscoIpcrsonsw|th thc|r cnv|ron-
mcnt, and th|s |n contrastw|th thc cond|t|oncdrcsponscoIpcrsons to thc dcmands madc
upon thcm by othcrs, and by a man-madc cnv|ronmcnt" ( I |||ch t . tt ) .
zq. hcsc tcms can rcad||y bc ass|m| |atcd |nto thosc uscd by Marx. usc-va|uc vcrsus
cxchangc-va|uc.
z. Max L|uckman (t o) spcaks oI "thc Ira||ty |n author|ty" and I havc d|scusscd th|s
thcmc at |cngth |n mystudyoIKuranko ora| narrat|vcs (|ackson t Uza) .
z. hc amb|gu|ty oI thc word mgnimity throughout thc mcd|cva| pcr|od shou|d bc
notcd. "Itmcans aqua||tyoIgrcatncssthatmaycons|st|nnob|||tyoIm|nd, |nthc narrowcr
mcan|ng oI dctcrm|ncd and amb|t|ous bravcry, or cvcn |n Icroc|ous and Ioo|-hardy sc|I-
conhdcncc, |ts cxact |ntcrprctat|on must d|hcr |n cvcp wr|tcr" (Lary t . zoo) .
z. In thc t Uos K|p||ng wou|d spcnd part oI thc ycar |n 5outh ^h|ca to cscapc thc
Lng||sh w|ntcrs. In Lapc own hc mct Khodcs and Ic|| undcr h|s spc||. "Oan|c| Oravot
|s a k|nd oI Khodcs, |ong bcIorc K|p||ng had any thought oI mcct|ng h|m" ( Mason
t . t q-q) .
zU. borgcs a|so obscrvcs that"I ncompar|son w|th th|ssymmctry, wh|ch opcratcsonthc
sou|soIs|ccp|ngmcnandspans cont|ncnts andccntur|cs, thc|cv|tat|ons, rcsurrcct|ons, and
Notes t paes 1 66-68 2 1 5
apparitionsi nthcsacrcdbooks arcnotsocxtraordinary" (1 964: 1 4) . ^comparab|cdcvc|op-
mcntoIthis idcaisto bc Iound inLcvi-5trauss'scssayon thc stnctura|studyoImyth. Îtcr
noting that myth consistsoI"a|| its vcrsions, " hc urgcs that Ircud'suscoIthcLcdipusmyth
bc p|accd a|ongsidc thc vcrsion oI5ophoc|cs, sincc both "vcrsions" addrcss thc samc prob-
|cm. how onc can bc bom hom two ( Lcvi-5trauss 1 963: 2 1 6-q) . hc L|ysscs story in a||
its vcrsions, Irom Homcr to cnnyson to |oycc, can bc citcd as anothcr cxamp|c oI such
a myth ( scc 5tanIord 1 969) .
29. hc amircductionist vicw |s nicc|y cxprcsscd by 5artrc, spcaking oII|aubcrt. "It is
thc work or thc act oI thc individua| which rcvca|s to us thc sccrct oI his conditioning.
I|aubcrtby hischoicc oIwritingdisc|oscsto us thc mcaningoIhischi|dish IcaroIdcath-
not thc rcvcrsc" ( 1 968: 1 52) . In an imaginativc cssay ca||cd "II^|cxandcr thc Lrcat Had
LivcdLn, " ^mo|d oynbcc argucs in a simi|ar vcin, that a|though wc can dctcct pattcms
in thc past wc cannot cxtrapo|atc hom thcm thc cxactcourscoIthc mturc. "I bc|icvc that
thcsc pattcmsarc authcntic, but I a|sobc|icvc thatthcywcrcnot incvitab|c, and, a fortiori,
I bc|icvc that thcy arc not bound to rccur in a mturc that is at |cast part|y dctcrmin-
ab|c by prcscnt and mturc human acts oI wi||" (1 974: 1 64) . hc signihcancc oI thc
nonrcductionist vicw in hcrmcncutics isbroughthomc by Iau| Kicocur.
The only radical way to j ustif hermeneutics is to seek in the ver nature of reflective thought
the principle of a logc of doul maning, a logic that is complex but not arbitrary, rigorous in
its articulations but irreducible to the linearity of symbolic logic. This logic is no longer a foral
logic, but a transcendental logic established on the level of the conditions of possibility; not
the conditions of objectivity of nature, but the conditions of our appropriation of our desire
to be. ( 1 970: 48)
30. his proccss oI making who|c may bc undcrstood in ncurophysio|ogica| tcms
asaba|ancingorharmonitingoIthcrightand|cItsidcsoIthcbrain. Lrcgorybatcsonwritcs.
"Mcrc purposivc rationa|ity unaidcd by such phcnomcna as art, rc|igion, drcam, and thc
|ikc, is ncccssari|y pathogcnic and dcstructivc oI|iIc" (quotcd in May 1 98 1 : 222) .
3 1 . Kichard Kortyhas bri||iant|yc|ucidatcd thc importanccoIHcidcggcr, Ladamcr, and
5artrc in showing how thc scarch Ior obj cctivc know|cdgc is on|y onc among many ways
oI dcscribing oursc|vcs in thc wor|d ( I 979: 36o6 1 ) . hc choicc oIan obj cctivist modc oI
thcorctica| know|cdgc rchccts tcmpcramcnta| and cu|tura| intcrcsts as much as docs thc
choicc oIsubj cctivist or praxco|ogica| pcrspcctivcs.
32. bothOcwcy ( 1 929) and Ocvcrcux ( 1 967) havc shown howthcscarchIor obj cctivc
ccrtainty and univcrsa| |awsrchcctsa dccp anxictyaboutthca|catoryandcapriciousnaturc
oIhuman cxistcncc. Whi|c wc arc oItcn bcmuscd by "primitivc" magic, Ocwcy points out
that"Lurmagica|saIcguard againstthcunccrtaincharactcroIthcwor|distodcny thccxis-
tcnccoIchancc, to mumb|c univcrsa|andncccssary |aws, thcubiquityoIcauscand chcct,
thc uniIormity oInaturc, univcrsa| progrcss, andthc inhcrcnt rationa|ity oIthc univcrsc"
(1 929: 44) .
33 In thc pragmatist vicw, "idcas (which thcmsc|vcs arc but parts oIour cxpcricncc)
bccomc truc j ust in soIaras thcy hc|p us gct into satisIactory rc|at|on with othcrparts oI
our cxpcricncc" (|amcs 1 978: 34) , a vicw that a||ows that hctions crcatctruthsand rcgards
"untruth as a condition oI|iIc" (Nicttschc 1 973: 9) .
34 Inncs makcs thc samc obscrvation about thc rccitation oIthc 5unj ata cpic in thc
Lambia. "thc story is truc Iorthc Mandinka at a dccpcr |cvc| than thatoI|itcra| historica|
Iact. hc 5unj ata cpic is truc in a|| its vcrsions in that it is true to the facts of the moral and
social life of the Mandinka" ( 1 974: 30) . Hcmakcsthc samc pointinanothcrstudyoIvariabi|ity
in thc tc||ing oI thc 5unj ata cpic. "griots common|y hcar othcr griots rc|ating vcrsions oI
thc 5unj ata |cgcnd substantia||y dihcrcnt Irom thcir own vcrsion, but this docs not sccm
to worry thcm, nor thcir audicnccs. hc qucstion oIwhich vcrsion |s 'corrcct' or 'tnc' j ust
docsnot arisc, insomcscnsc, thcyarc a|| rcgardcd as 'truc`' ( 1 973: 1 07) .
ZI Notes t pages t t-do
L L L V L N . LN L H N LL K ^ I H I L KL H
t . 5cc L|oyd t . t z- Ior an cxcc||cnt rcv|cw oIthc |mportancc oIana|ogy |n thc
thought oIbacon, Humc, M|||, and Kcyncs.
z. Ir a m||cr account oIbacon's amb|va|cnt att|tudc toward mag|c and a|chcmy, scc
Iarr|ngton t . t-. ^s Ior Ncwton.
Signifcantly, he had read Henr More, the Cambridge Platonist, and was therefore introuced
to another intellectual world, the magical Heretic tradition, which sought to explain natural
phenomena in ters of alchemical and magical concepts. The two traditions of natural philos
phy, the mechanical and the Hermetic, antithetical though they appar, continued to infuence
his thought and in their tension supplied the fndamental theme of his scientifc career (Encl
pad Brtnnica I 98 7; I 3: I 7) .
Kcyncsca||sNcwton "thc |astoIthc mag|c|ans, " whosc "dccpcst |nst|nctswcrcocu|t, cso-
tcr|c, scmant|c" (t t . t t ) .
. hc Ln||ghtcnmcnt ant|pathy to anthropomorph|sm and myth |sd|scusscd at |cngth
|n Horkhc|mcr and ^domo's Dialectic of Enlightenment (t z) . Ir a |uc|d summary oIthc
argumcnt, scc Lonncrton t do. -.
q. baconobscrvcd| nNovum Oganum that"natura|ph||osophy| saItcrthcwordoILod
at oncc thc surcst mcd|c|nc aga|nst supcrst|t|on, and thc most approvcd nour|shmcnt Ior
Ia|th, and thcrcIorc shc |sr|ght|yg|vcn to rc||g|on as hcr most Ia|thm| handma|d, s|ncc thc
onc d|sp|ays thc w||| oILod, thc othcr h|s powcr" (t o. zd) .
. 5uch a v|cwcanbctraccdbackto thc ^r|stotc||an mctaphys|ca|doctr|nc thatnaturc
|s an ordcrcd scr|cs hom |owcr to h|ghcr potcnt|a||t|cs and actua||tat|ons |n wh|ch thc or-
gan|c body was "thc h|ghcst tcm |n a phys|ca| scr|cs and thc |owcst tcrm |n a psych|ca|
scr|cs" ( Ocwcy t z. zo) . hc c|ass|ca| d|st|nct|on
between vegetative, animal and rational souls was, when applied to men, a forulation and
j ustifcation of class divisions in Greek society. Slaves and mechanical artisans living on the
nutritional , appetitive level were for practical purpses symbolized by the bdy-an obstrction
to ideal ends and as solicitations to acts contrar to reason. . . . Scientifc inquirers and philos
phers alone exemplifed pure reason . . . nu, pure immaterial mind. ( 2 5 I )
. "Ior thc co|on|tcd pcrson, obj cct|v|ty |s a|ways d|rcctcd aga|nst h|m" ( Irantt
Ianon, quotcd |n W||dcn t z. xx||| ) .
. 5usan5ontagwr|tcs."Modcmscns|b|||tymovcsbctwccntwosccm|ng|ycontrad|ctop
butactua||yrc|atcd|mpu|scs.surrcndcrtothc cxot|c, thcstrangc, thcothcr, andthcdomcs-
t|cat|on oIthc cxot|c, ch|chy through sc|cncc" (t . o) .
d. hc 5cbcoks rcIcr t o Hc|dcggcr's d|st|nct|on bctwccn two modcs oI tra|n|ng,
aprentissage anddrssage, to c|ar| thc way |n wh|chthc rc|at|onsh|p bctwccnhuman rc-
scarchcrsand cxpcr|mcnta| apcscond|t|oncdthccxp|anat|onsoIdata. "aprentissage cnta||s
a rcduct|on oI thc an|ma|-man ncxus to as c|osc to tcro as may bc Icas|b|c. Dessage, on
thcothcrhand, rcqu|rcsamax|mum|ntcns|hcat|onoIthc ||gaturc, w|ththcr|chcstposs|b|c
cmot|ona||nvo|vcmcnt" (5cbcokand5cbcok t do. q) . hc 5cbcoksargucthat thc tcns|on
bctwccn thcsc modcs oI tra|n|ng |ntcract|on crcatcd vap|ngdcgrccs oIobj cct|v|ty, as wc||
as d|hcrcnt |ntcrprct|vc cmphascs on s|m|||tudc ( |nc|ud|ng anthropomorph|sm) andd|hcr-
cncc ( z t-z) .
. I nthc Ircword to h|s Dynmics of Clanhip among the Talleni ( t q) , Irtcs wr|tcs.
My debt to Professor A. R. Radclife-Brown is . . . great. The fnal draft of this bo k was written
while I was working with him at Oxford and ever signifcant problem in it was discussed with
him. The results are obvious in ever chapter. My approach to the study of social structure in
primitive society is basically derived fom him. ( I 945: xiv)
Notes t pages t dz-d 2 1 7
t o. K|chard Kony obscrcs that th|s contrast bctwccn trcat|ng |anguagc as a p|cturc or
a gamc corrcsponds rough|y to thc d|hcrcncc bctwccn thc car|y and |atcr W|ttgcnstc|n
( t dz. t t o) .
t t . L||hord Lccrtt has g|vcn Wcbcr's phrasc grcat currcncy among anthropIog|sts
(t ) .
t z . I nmany ways thc traumat|c |mpactoI thc V|ctnamWar on thc consc|ousncssoI an-
thropo|og|sts |srcm|n|sccntoIthc proIound |nhucncc oINat|smonthcph||osophcrs oIthc
Irankmrt 5cho|.
t . LvcnIranc|sbacona||owcdthat"Iortu|tousana|og|cs"mayhavcrca|va|uc|nd|scov-
cr|ng "LonIomab|c Instanccs".
although they are of little use for the discovery of fors, they nevertheless are ver sericeable
in revealing the fabric of the parts of the universe, and anatomizing its members; fom which
they often lead us along to sublime and noble axioms, especially those which relate to the confg
uration of the world rather than to simple fors and natures. ( 1 905: 333)
t q. Icrhaps thc stncturcs oI |obstcrs, sca ancmoncs, and d|hcrcnt human soctcttcs
are un|hcd and a||kc |n somc marc|ous way, but thc prob|cm |s that whcn wc scarchIor
hn|tc un||ng stncturcs |n naturc and |n cu|turc wc comc up aga|nst thc hn|tc structurcs
oI our own thought. Lvcn |I ||Ic wcrc a un|ty, wc wou|d havc no way oI gctt|ng outs|dc
our m|nds andknow|ng |t.
t . ^domocapturcsth|s|dcabcaut|m||y. "hcnamcoId|a|cct|cssaysnomorc, tobcg|n
w|th, than thatobjccts do not go |nto thc|r conccpts w|thout |cav|ng a rcma|ndcr, that
thcy comc to contrad|ct thc trad|t|ona| nom oI adcquacy" ( ^domo t . ) .
t . Lcc|csmakcsas|m||arpo|nt. "pcrhapsthc most|mportantmomcnt| nthccmcrgcncc
oIhuman |anguagc was thc momcnt whcn man was ab|c to teU a sto; to tc|| a story that
was not truc and thcrcby to |nvcnt thc d|hcrcncc bctwccn tnth and Ia|schod. Ir th|s
d|st|nct|on opcncd up thc poss|b|||ty both oI |mag|nat|vc |nvcnt|on and oIcr|t|ca| d|scus-
s|on"(t q. t o) . LmbcrtoLco|||um|natcsthccx|stcnt|a||mp||cat|onsoIth|s|dcabynot|ng
thc ways |n wh|ch ||tcraturcsubvcrts|anguagc. Languagc, hc obscrvcs, "|sstncturcdso Ia-
ta||y that, s|avcs |ns|dc |t, wc cannot hcc oursc|vcs outs|dc |t, bccausc outs|dc thc g|vcn
|anguagcthcrc|snoth|ng. . . . Howcanwccscapcwhatbarthcsca||s, 5artrc-||kc, th|shuis
cls ? by chcat|ng. 1oucan chcat w|th thc g|vcn |anguagc. h|sd|shoncstandhca|thyand
||bcrat|ng tr|ck |s ca||cd ||tcraturc" (t d. zqt-qz) .
t . I t was on|y aItcr comp|ct|ng th|s chaptcr that thc mystcp conccm|ng bkonon's
"truc" |dcnt|ty, poscdatthcbcg|nn|ngoI|t, wasc|carcdup. 5wcd|shh|cndsLar|VonKoscn
and Ingcr ^ndcrsson brought to my attcnt|on that bkonon |s a Wcstcm m|shcar|ng oI
Makonncn, thc |ast part oIthc namc oIthc Lmpcror Ha||c 5c|ass|c oILth|op|a. Kas aIar|
Makonncn.
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Inex
Abimbla, W. , 38-39
Abrigines, I SS
Abtiungsprinzip, I 94n. 2, :on. 2
"Abuse of the Killing Word, The" (Koroma) , 30
Adoro, Theodor: atonal philosophy of, I 7; dia
lee tics as viewed by, 2 1 7n. I 5; Enlightenment
as viewed by, 1 78, 2I 2n. 45; experience as
viewed by, I 89n. 3; identity-thinking as viewed
by, I 89n. 2; jargon of authenticity as viewed by,
I 8:; praxis as viewed by, 2; rationality as
viewed by, 2 I 4n. 22
Aj ala (Yoruba god) , 38
Akwapim Akan, 49, I 96n. 25
Alexander, F. M. , I I 9, :o6n. 34, :o8n. 59
Alexander the Great (king of Macedonia; a. k. a.
Sikander Dhulkarein, Dhui-Quarein, Djur
karaneni, Yilkanani, Yurkherani, lskander
Zulkarein) : background of, I 58, I 59-6 I , I 64,
2 I 3nn. 1 2, 1 7; characteristics of, I 57, I 6o,
I 6s-66, 2 I 3n. 9; and Mandingo, I 59 I 6o,
2 I 3n. I I ; as witch, 9I
Allegoies of t Wilss (Jackson) , zo6n. 36
Alterity, 66, I 87, I 98n. I
Ancestral spirits, I 98n. 9
Anthropology: analogy in, 1 79-8 I ; of the by,
1 2 I-24, zon. 24; characteristics of, 3, I 67-68,
I 7 I , 1 78, I 8 I-8:; criticism of, 1 7, 20, I 96n.
2 I ; language of, I 8z; purposes of, x, I 4, I 6,
34, I 8o, I 89n. I , I 96n. :o; sexism of, :osn. I o;
and superorganic, 1 2 I-22; types of, I 82-84.
See also specifc heaings
Arieti, Silvano, 65, I 52, 2 I I n. 4I
Aristotle, I 49, :o8n. 2
Ashanti, 93-4
Austin, J. L. , 2 I I n. 33
Autobiogahy (Mi ll ) , I 53 2 I 2n. 46
Azande. See Zande
Baboon societies, I I 3, 203n. I S
Bache lard, Gaston, :osn. I 5
Bacon, Francis: analogues as viewed by, 2 1 7n. I 3;
magic and myth as viewed by, 1 75, 1 76, 1 77,
I 8o, 2 I 6n. 4
Bafara (chief) , 77
BaKongo: medicine of, 4I-42; therapy of,
2 I I n- 35
Balinese, 207n. 52
Bambara, I 95n. 1 2
Banyang, 93-4
Brawa (Jackson) , I , 8, 1 7, 20
Barthes, Roland, 2 1 7n. I 6
Bateson, Gregor: analogy as viewed by, 1 84-85;
Balinese research of, 207n. 52; epistemolo
gical openness as viewed by, I 87; latmul re
search of, 1 5 1 ; mental disorders as viewed by, 46;
pragmatism of, I 84; rationality as viewed
by, 2 1 5n. 3o; schismogenesis as viewed by,
207n. 46
Bcker, Erest, I S, I 63
Bnj amin, Walter, 2, 1 8
Bntham, Jeremy, I 9In. l I
Brger, John, 34, I SS
Bst, David, 1 23
Bttelheim, Bruno, u6, I 1 7
Binswanger, Ludwig, 1 22-23
Birth of t Clinic (Fucault) , I 9I n I I
Bisilliat, Jeanne, 42
Black, Max, 2 1 2n. 44
Black, Stephen, :osn. 1 7 , zo6n. 37
Blacking, J . , zo6n. 35, :o8nn. 55, 57
Bloh, M. , 86-87
Blythe, R. H. , I42
Bas, Franziska, ix, 1 27-28, 2I m. 27
Bdin, Jean, 1 76
Bhr, Niels, 1 94n. 2, zon. 2
Bkari (baboon society member) , 203n. I S
Brges, Jorge Luis, 1 5 I , 1 66, 2 1 4n. 28
Br, Max, 1 97n. 2
Burdieu, Pierre: boy a viewed by, 1 28, I 33; ob
j ectivity vs. subjectivity as viewed by, zo8n. 6o;
rites as viewed by, 1 26
Bwlby, John, 2 1 2n. 47
Bradbury, R. E. , 39-40
Brown, Noran 0. , 205n. 9
Buxton, Jean, 85, 202n. I 4
Calame-Griaule, Genevieve, 1 72
Canaque, zo6n. 28
Cassirer, Erst, 1 76, 21 mn. 37, 42
Cat' s Cra (Vonnegut) , 1 707 I
Chefar, 73
Cliford, James, I 9on. s
Confessions: of Kuranko, 72-73, 99I O, I 99n.
10; of witches, 93-6, I o1 o1 , I I 2 , :oi nn.
9, I3, I4, 202n. I6
Converging sequence theor, 6I-62
Coiolnu (Shakespeare) , 209n. 3
Correspndence theor: of Dgon, 1 72-73; i n "In
the White Giant's Thigh, " 1 39, I 41 ; of Yurok,
I 39 I 40, I 44
Cowrie shell casting, 52. See also Divination
Culture: and by, :o6n. 2 5; characteristics of,
I 2 I ; defned, I 2Q-2 I ; histor of, 1 2o2 I ,
205n. 9; purpses of, 1 2 1 ; superorganic nature
of, 1 26-27
Culture (Kroeber and Kluckholn) , I 2 1
Curses, 7 5 , 1 63
Dahomey, divination in, 42-43, I 98n. 9
Danquah, J. B. , I 96n. 25
234 Inx
Darin, Charles, 68
Dayak, 6-7, 76
Demba, Faraba, I 58-59, I 6o, 2 I 3n. I 6
Derrida, Jacques, 25, 1 78-79
Descartes, Rene, 1 75 , 1 77
Devereux, George: behavior as viewed by, 67,
I 94n. 2; crisis as viewed by, 67; experience as
viewed by, 4, 67; Freud as viewed by, 2 I on. I 6;
Levy-Bruhl as viewed by, 2 I on. I 6; Mohave re
search of, 36-37, 49, 2om. I 4; obj ectivity vs.
subj ectivity as viewed by, I 35; patters as
viewed by, I SS; prelogical thinking as viewed
by, 2 I on. I 6; schizophrenia as viewed by, I SS.
2 I on. I 9; transference as viewed by, 2 I m. 34;
uncertainty as viewed by, 2 I 5n. 32
Dewey, John: body and mind as viewed by, I 23;
culture as viewed by, 204n. 5; experience as
viewed by, I 2, I 3 , I 4; habit as viewed by, 1 28,
2o6n. 34; knowledge as viewed by, 6; seen vs.
unseen as viewed by, I 8 I ; uncertainty as
viewed by, I S, I 97n. 3, 2 I 5n. 32; vision as
viewed by, 6
Dhulkarein, Sikander. See Alexander the Great
( king of Macedonia)
Dhui-Quarein. See Alexander the Great (king of
Macedonia)
Dialo, Fa Bolo Karifa, 77
Dilthey, Wilhelm, I 3
Dinka: divination of, 5 5 , s6; mind as viewed by,
47; witches of, 94
Discipline an Punish ( Fucault) , I 9I n I I
Divination: causes of, s6; characteristics of, 47,
6o6 I , 63, 64, 65; i n Dahomey, 42-43 ,
I 98n. 9; of Dinka, ss. s6; of Dagon, I 9sn. 1 2;
of Edo, 43; efects of, 6o; of Ewe, I 98n. 9; of
Fn, I 98n. 9; of Jukun, 55, 6I ; of Kalabari, 42;
of Kuranko, 52-53, 54, 55, 56, s8-6o, 62-63 ,
64, 65-66, I 49-50, 2 I On. 2 I ; of limba, 6 I ; of
Mara, 54, 55, 57-58, 59, I 97n. 8; of Mende,
63, I 97n. 4; of Muslims, 52, 53 s6; of
Ndembu, 55 s8-s9. 6o, 6 I ; of Nguni, ss; pur
poses of, 63, 64; and sacrifces, 6 I , 63; of Sise,
53, 55; storytelling compared to, ss; of Tal
lensi , 42; of Temne, 56, I 97n. 5; of women,
I 97n. 6; of Wulare, ss. s6; of Yoruba, s6.
I 98n. 9; of Zande, 54 s8, 62, I 98n. I3 See also
Pebble divination
Djurkaraneni. See Alexander the Great (king of
Macedonia)
Dobzhansky, T. , 204n. 6
Dogan: being and things as viewed by, I 4D4 I ;
correspondence theory of, 1 72-73; divination
of, I 95n. I 2
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor, I 4-I 5
Douglas, Mary, I 22, I 23
Dreaming-tracks, I 55
Dream interpretation, of Kuranko, I S I 6, 53,
I 92n. I 6
Dumari, Karifa, 77
Dupre, Marie-Claude, I 7
Eccles, J . , 2 1 7n. I 6
Eco, Umberto, 2 1 7n. I 6
Edie, James, I 9on. 7, I 9I n 9
Edifcation, I 67
Edo: destiny as viewed by, 39-40, 4 I ; divination
of, 43
Efutu, 93
Einstein, Albert, 5 I -52, I 97n. 2
Eliade, Mircea, 204n. 2
Ellenberger, H. F. , I 95n. I 6
Empiricism. See Radical empiricism; Traditional
empiricism
Erikson, Erik, Yurok research of, I 39 I 44 I S I ,
2 I I n. 39
Essays o the Lw of Nature (Locke) , 1 76
Evans-Pritchard, E. E. , I oI I , 93
Evolution ofCulture in Anims, The ( Bnner) , I 2 I
Ewe, I 98n. 9
Existentialism: characteristics of, 49-50; and
Kuranko, 37; purposes of, I 94n. I
Fabian, J . , 6
Fang: kinship as viewed by, 209n. I 3; moruar
rites of, 87; sympathy as viewed by, I 73
Fara, Bamba, 77
Frandez, James: anthroplogy as viewed by,
I 96n. 2 I ; metaphor as viewed by, 209nn. 9, I I ,
2 I I n. 27; uncertainty as viewed by, 2 I on. I 6
Fipa, I 94n. 6, I 95n. 1 7
First fuits ceremony, I 27
Fisher, S. , 2 I m. 29
Ffona, Mohammed: background of, 1 08-;
shape-shifting of, 1 05-6, I 09, I I O, I I I-I 2,
I I 4-I 5 , I I 7
Fn, I 98n. 9
Frtes, Meyer: children as viewed by, 76; destiny
as viewed by, 39, 44; divination as viewed by,
63; organic vs. social systems as viewed by, I 82;
Radclife-Brown's infuence on, I 8o, 2 I 6n. 9;
Tallensi research of, I O, 43, 44, 45-46, 86
Fucault, Michel, I o6; anthropology as viewed
by, 1 7 I ; discourses as viewed by, I 68; Enlight
enment vs. Renaissance as viewed by, 1 76; in
dividual as viewed by, I , I 89n. I ; similitude as
viewed by, 1 7 I-72, 1 73 , I 79; traditional em
piricism as viewed by, 8
Fx, Robin Lane, 2 I 3n. I 3
Frankl, Victor, I OI
Freeman, Derek, I 7 7
Freud, Sigmund: conscious vs. unconscious as
viewed by, 44, 46-47, 1 95nn. I S , I 6, I 97n. 29;
grief as viewed by, 68, 86; influence on Turer
of, 43; and Kalabari, 44-45; and Mohave, J7,
49; symbols as viewed by, I 36; women as
viewed by, 2om. I O
Fulani : pain as viewed by, I 94n. 7, 201 n. 1 2 ; su
perego of, 47-48
Gadamer, H. -G. , I 67
Galilei , Galileo, I 75
Inx 235
Gbangbane: characteristics of, 90, 2oon. 4; de
fned, 88; of Kuranko, 88, 90, 91-93; as
witches, 91 -93
Gbanna (baboon society member) , 1 1 3
Geertz, C. , 1 77
Gell, Alfed, 2o6n. 32
Genet, Jean, 1 01
Ghazali , al- , 2o8n. 2
Giedion, Sigfied, 6
Gluckman, Max, 1 27, 2 1 4n. 25
Goody, J. , 1 99n. r 6
Graves, Robert, 1 54
Guha, Ranaj it, 94, 1 1 4
Gun-fring rites, 5 3 See also Divination
Haiku, 1 42
Hallen, B. , 49, 93
Hamlt (Shakespeare) , r 6r-62
Headhunting, 4-5
Heavenly princess cult, 1 2 7
Heidegger, Martin: being as viewed by, 205n. r 8;
philosophy as viewed by, r 8; thought as viewed
by, 1 ; thrownness as viewed by, 1 4; training as
viewed by, 2 1 6n. 8
Heisenberg, Werer, 3 , 51
Helliwell, Christine, 6-7
Herder, Johann Gottfried von, 1 2 1
Hertz, R. , 74, 76, 78
Histoire de I nture des oiseaux ( Blon) , 1 73-74
History of Sexuality, The (Fucault ) , 1 89n. 1
Horkheimer, Max, q8, 2 1 2n. 45, 2 1 4n. 22
Horton, Robin, 43-45
Husser!, Edmund, 1 9on. 4
latmul: chiefs as viewed by, 1 84; kinship as
viewed by, 1 84-85 ; social control of, 1 5 1
I Ching, 1 3 7
"If Alexander the Great Had Lived On" (Toyn-
bee) , 2 1 5n. 29
lgbo, 39 43
Illongot, 4-5, 1 55
Indeterminacy principle, 51
Induced amnesia, 86
Initiation rites, of Kuranko, 1 9-20, 22, 25,
4
o-41 , 76, 98-99, 1 24-26, 1 28, 1 29, 1 30,
1 3 1 -32, 1 33, 1 35, 1 49, 1 92n. 3 , 1 94nn. 8, 9
Innes, G. , 2 1 5n. 34
"I n the White Giant's Thigh" (Thomas) : being
vs. things in, 1 40; correspondence theory in,
1 39, 1 41 ; metaphor in, 1 43 , 1 52; text of,
1 38-39; transformations in, 1 52-53
Jackson, Heidi, 8
James, William: conjunctive relations as viewed
by, 5; experience as viewed by, 3, 1 9on. 4; radi
cal empiricism as viewed by, r 86; truth as
viewed by, 64, 1 1 1 , u8, 1 98n. 1 2
Janzen, J . M. , 2 1 1 n. 35
Joey ( autistic child) , 1 1 6-q, 2 1 2n. 43
Johnson, M. , 209n. 10
Johnson, Patrick, 1 70
Joking partners, 79
Jones, Frank Pierce, 2o5n. 34
Jukun, 55, 61
Kabyle, 1 48
Kafa, Franz, 1 1 5-1 6, 203n. 23
Kaguru, 86
Kalahari: divination of, 42; and Freud, 44-45;
personality as viewed by, 44
Kamara, K. , 7 1 , 75, 77
Kande, Fre, 94
Kant, Immanuel , 203n. 2o
Kargbo, Fre, r 6
Keat, Russell , 204n. 7
Keats, John, r 6, 1 53-54
Keynes, John Maynard, qr , 2 1 6n. 2
Kipling, Rudyard, 2 1 4n. 27
Klemm, Gustav, 1 20, 1 2 1
Kola nut casting, 5 2 . See also Divination
Kono, 201 n. 9
Konteh, Kawusu, 1 09
Koroma, Keti Frenke: background of, 26-29, 3 1 ,
1 93n. 1 2 ; and Du lodge, 3 1 , 32; fction as
viewed by, r 86; marriages of, 3 1-32; Sano
compared to, 33; storytelling of, 29, 3o3 1 , 32,
33, r 86, 1 93n. 2 1 ; women as viewed by, 97
Koroma, Yimba, 92, 94
Korongo, 94
Kibler-Ross, Elisabeth, 1 98n. 5
Kuranko: afterlife as viewed by, 8 1 , 99; ancestral
spirits of, 1 98n. 9; cattle as viewed by, 1 99n. 1 3 ;
chefare of, 7 3 ; children as viewed by, 75-76;
community as viewed by, 7; confessions of,
72-73 , 99-1 00, 1 99n. r o; conscience as viewed
by, 1 1 5 ; conscious vs. unconscious as viewed
by, 45, 1 1 5; curses of, 75, 1 63 ; dance and music
as viewed by, 1 3 2-33; death as viewed by,
68-70; destiny as viewed by, 29, 4 1 , 98, 99,
1 94n. 8; disease as viewed by, 1 49-50, 1 95n. r o;
divination of, 52-53 54 55. 56. 58-6o,
62-63, 64, 65-66, 1 49-50, 2 1 0n. 2 r ; dream
interpretation of, I 5-1 6, 53, 1 92n. 1 6; and
existentialism, 37; fre fnches as viewed by,
1 92n. r ; Gbangbane of, 88, 90, 91 -93; ghosts as
viewed by, Br -82; grief as viewed by, 78-79,
So; impurity as viewed by, 82-84; initiation
rites of, 1 9-20, 22, 25, 4o4 1 , 76, 98-99,
1 24-26, 1 28, 1 29, 1 30, 1 3 1 -32, 1 33, 1 35,
1 49, 1 92n. 3 , 1 94nn. 8, 9; joking partners of,
79; kinship as viewed by, r o, 1 9, 1 91 n. 1 2 ,
1 92n. 2, 1 93n. 6; knowledge as viewed by,
53-54, 2o8n. 54; lives as viewed by, 20;
mmnianenu of, 79-80, 82, 84-85, 1 99n. 1 9;
medicine of, 24, 63, 1 93n. 7; memor as viewed
by, r 1 5 ; men as viewed by, 1 46; metaphor of,
1 43, 1 45-46, 1 47-48, 1 49, 209n. 7, 2 1 0nn.
1 5 , 2 1 , 23; mimetic rites of, 79-80, 84, 1 28,
1 29-30, 1 3 1 , 1 33; moral worth as viewed
by, 30; mortuary rites of, 67-68, 7o-7 1 , 74-
236 Inx
7S, So-SI , 1 2S, 207n. 4o; as Muslims, I SS.
2 I 3n. I 6; pain as viewed by, 9S-9; personho
as viewed by, 90, 96, I o6-7; pssession as
viewed by, I 96n. I S; praise-singers of, I S?-sS;
quarantine of, 72, 73, So, S2-S3; reincaration
as viewed by, 75; role reversals of, 79, So, I 29,
I 3 I , I 33; rlers as viewed by, 77, So; sacrifces
of, 6 I , 63, 7 I -72, 77 S I ; salt as viewed by,
I 99n. I 3 ; sanu of, 79, So, S2, I 99n. I 5 ; self
master as viewed by, 24; sexuality as viewed
by, S2, I 99n. I S; shape-shifing of, I 02-4,
I OS, I I I , us ; social status of, 74-75, 76-7S,
79, So, 96, I 99n. IS; space as viewed by, S,
I 9m. I O; stand-ins of, S4; stortelling of, 1 7,
I 63 , I 64, I 65, I 6S, I S6; sympathy a viewed
by, 1 73 ; totems of, I o6S; widows a viewed
by, 72-73, So, S2-S3, I 99n. I O; witches of, 63,
75, SS-S9, 9QI , 93 94-97 9S, I O, I OI ,
I I 2, 2onn. I , 4, 5, 202n. I 6; women as
viewed by, 75, 96, 97-9S, I o, I OI , I 46. See
ao specifc Kurank
Kurank, Th (Jackson) , I OS
Lacan, Jacques, 46
Laing, R. D. , 46, 203n. 23, 2 I 2n. 44
Lakof, G. , 209n. I O
Lamina ( leopard society member) , I I 3
Leach, Edmund, I 2 7
Lebbi (baboon society member) , I I 3
Lebenswelt, 34, I 94n. 22
Leenhardt, Maurice, 2o6n. 2S
Leibniz, Gottfied Wilhelm, I 95n. I 4
Leopard scieties: characteristics of, I I 2, I I 3,
I I ?, 203nn. 1 7, I S, I 9; histor of, I I 2, I I 4;
medicine of, u3 ; purpses of, I I 2-I 4, I 1 7,
202n. I 4, 203n. I 9
Levi-Strauss, Claude: anthroplogy as viewed by,
1 7S; belief systems and moels as viewed by,
36; conscious vs. unconscious as viewed by,
46-47, I 96n. 2o; experience as viewed by, I 3 ;
feedom as viewed by, ix; individual as viewed
by, I , I S9n. I ; magic as viewed by, I 74; music
as viewed by, I 92n. 1 7; myth as viewed by,
I 92n. 1 7, 2 I 4n. 2S; poetr as viewed by, I 54;
universals as viewed by, I 64; Wagner as viewed
by, 1 7 , I 92n. 1 7
Lienhardt, Godfey, 47, ss. 56
Limba, 6 I , 20I n. 9
Lindskog, Birger, I I 2, I I 3
Locke, John, 6
LoDagaa: children as viewed by, I 99n. 1 2 ; mi-
metic rites of, I 99n. I6; mortuar rites of, Ss
Lugbara, Ss, S6
Luiye, defned, 7
Luria, A. R. , I 43-44
McLuhan, Marshall, S
Maie nturlle ( Porta) , 1 72, I 73
Malinke, 209n. 7, 2 I on. 24
Malinowski, Bronislaw, I 9on. s
Mamniannu, of Kuranko, 79-So, S2, S4-S5,
I 99n. I 9
Mandari: mortuar rites of, Ss , S6; were-men of,
202n. I 4
Mande, I 94n. s
Mandingo, and Alexander the Great, I 59, I 6o,
2 I 3n. I I
Mandinka, 2 I sn. 34
Mansaray, Bundo, 54
"Man Who Would B King, The" (Kipling) , I 66
Maori, 209n. 6
Mara, Lai, divination of, 54, 55, 57-5S, 59,
I 97n. S
Marah, Morowa, SS, S9
Marah, Noah, SS, I 56-57
Marah, Sewa Bkari, in parliament, I 04-5, I Q,
I sS. 202nn. s . I 2
Marceau, Marcel , 2oSn. sS
Marcuse, Herbert, I 20, 2 I 4n. 22
Marx, Karl , 20, I 93n. 5
Mauss, Marcel , 1 2S, 207n. s i
May, R. , 2o7n. 4I
Mbugwe, 94
Mead, Margaret, I 77, 207n. s2, 209n. 9
Medicine-masters, 24-25, 2on. 6. See ao Sano,
Saran Salia
Meek, C. K. , 6I
Meinhard, H. H. , 209n. I 3
Melchert, N. , 203n. 2o
Mende: divination of, 63, I 97n. 4; moruar rites
of, S6; witches of, 201 n. 9
Menenius, I 3 7
Menkiti, lfeanyi, 4S, 49
Merina, S6-S7
Merleau-Ponty, Maurice: anthroplogy as viewed
by, I S9n. I ; body as viewed by, 39, uS, I 24,
I 43; conscious vs. unconscious as viewed by,
46, I 36; gestures as viewed by, I 33 205n. 2o;
meaning as viewed by, I 22; universals as
viewed by, I 4
Metamorphoses. See Shape-shifting
Metmhsis, Th ( Kafa) , I I S-I 6, 203n. 22
Metaphor: defned, I 45 209nn. 9, I O, I I ; i n
"I n the White Giant's Thigh, " I 43 I 52; of
Kuranko, I 43 I 45-46, I 47-4S, I 49 209n
7
2 I onn. I S, 2I , 23; of Songhay, I 46-47, I 4S,
2 I on. 25; of Yurok, I 4S, I 52
Mill, John Stuart, I 53-54, 2 1 2n. 46
Mimetic rites: of Kuranko, 79-So, S4, 1 2S,
I 29-30, I 3 I , I 33; of LoDagaa, I 99n. I 6; of
Ugogo, I 27; of Zulu, 207n. 49
Minkus, Helaine, 49
Mohave: and Freud, 37, 49; mental disrders
of, 36-37; suicide of, 2om. I 4; witches of,
20i n. I 4
Montaigne, Michel de, I 75, 1 76
Montale, Eugenio, I 7
Montei l , Charles, I 59
Mortuar rites: characteristics of, 6S; of Fang, S7;
of Kagur, S6; of Kuranko, 67-6S, 7o7 I ,
Inx 237
74-78, 8o8 I , 1 28, 207n. 4o; of LoDagaa, 8s;
of Lugbara, 85, 86; of Mandari, 85, 86; of
Mende, 86; of Merina, 86-87; of Nuer, 85, 86;
purpses of, 68; of Tallensi, 86; of Yorba, 85,
86
Mots et les choses, Ls ( Fucault) , I 7 I
Musa (puln-catcher), 89
Muslims: divination of, 52, 53, 56; Kuranko as,
I 55, 2 I Jn. I 6
Naked Man, The ( Levi-Strauss) , I 92n. 1 7
Navaho, 209n. 6
Ndembu, divination of, 55, s8-59, 6o, 6I
Needham, Joseph, 1 74, I 85
Newton, Isaac, 1 76, 2 I 6n. 2
Nguni , 55
Nietzsche, Friedrich: anthroplogy and philoso
phy as viewed by, 1 68; conscious vs. uncon
scious as viewed by, I 95n. I 6; trth as viewed
by, I 86, I 87
Nkrmah, Kwame, I 66
Notes on Kafa (Adoro) , 1 1 6
Notes toar a Supeme Fiction (Stevens) , I 45
NOm Organum ( Bacon) , 2 I 6n. 4
N uer: kinship as viewed by, I o-I I ; land as viewed
by, I SS; mortuar rites of, 85, 86; myth as
viewed by, I SS
Oakeshott, Michael , 2o6n. 29
"Oedipus and Job in West Afican Religion" ( Fr-
tes ) , 43
Oj ibwa, I 44
Olodumare (Yoruba god) , 38
Ong, Walter, 20
O the Fic of the Humn By (Vesalius) ,
2o8n. 2
Od of Things, Th ( Fucault) , I
Orinsanla (Yoruba go) , 38
Papuans, 76
Paracelsus, 1 72, I 74
Park, G. K. , 6o
Pebble divination, characteristics of, 52, 55, s6,
57, I 98n. IO; purposes of, I 49-50. See also Div
indtion
Penee sautae, L ( Levi-Strauss) , 36
Pepper, Stephen, I 5 I
Persn, Yves, 2 I 2nn. 2, 3
Phaedru ( Plato) , 25
Philsophy and t Mi m of Nature ( Rorty) ,
I 89n. 3
Physics (Aristotle) , 2o8n. 2
Plutarch, I 3 7
Poetics ( Aristotle) , 207n. 45
Polhemus, T. , 2o6n. 24
Polo, Marco, I 6I
Pound, Ezra, I 45
Praise-singers, I 57-s8
Primitite Culture (Tylor) , I 20
Progressive-regressive metho, I 62
Proust, Marcel, I I
Puln, defned, 2on. I . See also Sorcerers;
Witches
Quarantine, of Kuranko, 72, 73, 8o, 82-83
Rabinow, P. , I 82
Radclife-Brown, A. R. : anthroplogy as viewed
by, I 8o, I 8 I , I 82; infuence on Frtes of, I 8o,
2 I 6n. 9
Radical empiricism: characteristics of, 2-3, I 86;
defned, 3; and experience, I 2, I J; purses of,
s-6; traditional empiricism compared to, 3, I 2
Raw and t Coked, The (Levi- Strauss) , I 92n. 1 7
Rawsn, Philip, I 3 7
Reich, Wilhelm, 46, 205n. I 6
Remrks on Fraer' s Goln Bugh (Wittgenstein) ,
1 26, 2o6n. 28
Rhodes, Cecil, 2 I 4n. 27
Richards, I. A. , 209n. I o
Ricoeur, Paul, 2 I sn. 29
Riesman, David, 8
Riesman, Paul, Fulani resarch of, 42, 47, 48,
I 94n. 7, 20i n. I 2
Rigby, Peter, I 2 7
Role reversals: of Kuranko, 79, 8o, I 29, I J i , I 33;
of Ugogo, I 27; of Zulu, 1 27, 207n. 49
Rorty, Richard: anthroplogy as viewed by, I 83;
edifcation as viewed by, I 67; existentialism
as viewed by, I 96n. 28; knowledge as viewed
by, I 9m. 8, I 97n. I ; language as viewed by,
2 1 7n. Io; objectivity vs. subj ectivity as viewed
by, 2 I sn. 3 I ; textualism as viewed by, 8; trth
as viewed by, I 87
Rosaldo, Michelle, 5
Rosaldo, Renato, 4-5
Royce, Anya, 205n. I 9
Ruel, M. , 2oi n. 1 1
Sacrifces: and divination, 6I , 63; of Kuranko, 6 I ,
63, 7 I-72, 77, 8 I ; types of, 63
Sanu, of Kuranko, 79, 8o, 82, I 99n. I S
Sand drawing, 52. See also Divination
Sano, Abdulai, 56-57
Sano, Saran Salia: background of, 2 I ; Gbngn
as viewed by, 9I-92; initiation rites as viewed
by, 25, I J2; kinship as viewed by, 22; as
Komtigi, 22-24, 25-26; Koroma compared to,
33; marriage of, 23; as medicine-master, 24-25;
medicine- masters as viewed by, 2on. 6; photo
graph of, I 9; shape-shifting as viewed by, I 04;
sons of, 2o-22; witches as viewed by, 94,
2on. 6
Sarles, Harvey, I 30
Sartre, Jean-Paul: conscious vs. unconscious as
viewed by, 46, I 96n. 22; embiment as viewed
by, 39; experience as viewed by, 38, so, I 62,
I 89n. 2, 2 I 4n. 2o; Flaubert as viewed by,
2 I 5n. 29; fee will as viewed by, 43, 48; individ
ual a viewed by, 2, I 89n. I ; obj ectivity vs. sub-
238 Inx
jectivity as viewed by, 23; oppression as viewed
by, I 96n. 26; progressive-regressive method as
viewed by, 1 62
Sayers, E. F. , Kuranko research of, 77-78, 79, So,
1 59, 1 99n. 1 3
Schizophrenia, 65, 1 52, 2 1 m. 4I
Schutz, Alfed, I 94n. 22
Sebeok, T. A. and J . U. , 2 1 6n. 8
Seneca, Lucius Annaeus, 1 3 7
Shades, 89, 2oon. I . See also Witches
Shakespeare, William, 1 37
Shape-shifting: causes of, I OJ, r es; characteris
tics of, 1 02, 1 03; evidence of, 1 03-4; of
ffona, 1 05-6, 1 09, I I O, I I I-1 2 , I I 4-1 5,
r q; of Kuranko, 1 02-4, r o8, I I I , us;
witches compared to, r 02, I r 2, r r 5
Shelley, Percy Bysshe, r 64
"Sierra Leone Cannibals, The" ( Berry) , r 1 3
Simonton, 0. C. and S. , 2 1 m. 38
Sisay, John, 1 03-4 r r 6
Sise, Kumba Wulan Bala: clients of, 54; divina-
tion of, 53 55
Slughterhouse 5 (Vonnegut) , qo
Snel l , Bruno, r 9on. 7
Socrates, 25
Sodipo, J . 0. , 93
Songhay: destiny as viewed by, r 4 7; disease as
viewed by, 42; knowledge as viewed by, 9; met
aphor of, 1 46-47, 1 48, 2 r on. 25; truth as
viewed by, 9-r o
Song-lines, 1 5 5
Sontag, Susan, r 83, 2 r 6n. 7
Sorcerers, 2oon. 6. See also Puln; Witches
Spiro, Melford, 48
Stand-ins, 84
Steiner, George, 66, r 87, r 98n. I
Stoller, Paul, 9-1 0, 1 91 n. r I
Stortelling: divination compared to, ss; of
Koroma, 29, JD-J I , 32, 33, r 86, 1 93n. 2 r ; of
Kuranko, 1 7, r 63, r 64, r 6s, r 68, r 86; of
Mandinka, 2 I sn. 34
Suicide, 2or n. 14
Sullivan, W. M. , r 82
Sunj ata, Mande, 91 , 2 1 3n. r 2, 2 r sn. 34
Superego, 47-48
Superorganic, 1 2 1-22, 1 26-27
"Superorganic, The" (Kroeber) , r 2 r
Suya, r r
"Swear, " 53 See also Divination
Szasz, Thomas, 201 n. r o
Tallensi : conscious vs. unconscious as viewed by,
46; destiny as viewed by, 39. 4 1 , 44. 1 94n. 5;
divination of, 42; kinship as viewed by, ro,
r ss . r 8o; mortuary rites of, 86
Tamba family, 2 r 2n. 2
Tantras, 1 38
Tao, 1 74, r 8s, 2 r m. 36
Temne: divination of, s6, I 97n. s; witches of,
2or n. 9
Terence, 6
Textualism, 8
Thass-Thienemann, T. , 205n. 1 4
Thomas, Dylan, 1 41 , 1 44, 209n. 8
Thomas, Keith, 2om. 1 3
Tiv, r o
Tombo (baboon society member) , r 1 3
Totems, r o6-8
Traditional empiricism: characteristics of, 5, 6, 8;
and experience, 1 2, 1 3-1 4; radical empiricism
compared to, 3, 1 2
Transformations. See Shape-shifting
Tristes trpiqus (Levi-Strauss) , q8-79, 1 83
Turer, Victor: experience as viewed by, r 9on. 6;
Freud's infuence on, 43; liminal personae as
viewed by, 1 99n. 1 9; Ndembu research of, 6o
Tylor, Edward, r 2o2 r
Ufpa, 1 94n. 6, r 95n. I 7
Ugogo, 1 27
Ulysses (Joyce) , r 8
Umedas, 2o6n. 32
Upanishads, r 38, I 42
Valery, Paul , 2 r 2n. 47
Vedas, 1 38
Vesalius, Andreas, 2o8n. 2
Visualism, 6
Vonnegut, Kurt, qo7 I
Weber, Max, r 82
Web of Kinship among the Talleni, The ( Frtes) ,
r 8o-8r
Welles, C. B. , r 6r
Weltnchuung, 34 1 94n. 22
Were-men, 202n. 1 4
White, Leslie A. , 204n. 6
Williams, William Carlos, 6
Willis, Roy, 1 95n. I 7
Wilson, E. 0. , 1 2 1
Wilson, Monica, 96
Wiredu, Kwasi, 48-49, r 97n. 29
Witches: Alexander the Great as, 9 1 ; of Ashanti,
93-4; of Banyang, 93-94; causes of, 98; char
acteristics of, 90-91 , 97. r o2, 2oonn. 4, s;
confessions of, 93-96, r oor or , I r 2, 2or nn.
9. IJ, 1 4, 202n. r 6; of Dinka, 94; of Eftu, 93;
Gbangbane as, 91 -93; of Kono, 2om. 9; of Ko
rongo, 94; of Kuranko, 63, 75, 88-89, 90- 9 1 ,
93, 94-97. 98, r oo, r o r , r 1 2 , 2oonn. ! 4,
5, 202n. r 6; of Limba, 2om. 9; of Mbugwe,
94; of Mende, 2om. 9; of Mohave, 2om. r 4;
purposes of, 98, 20m. 1 3 ; shades of, 89,
2on. r ; shape-shifting compared to, r o2, r r 2,
I I 5; sorcerers compared to, 2oon. 6; of Temne,
2om. 9; of Yoruba, 93; of Zande, 93 , 96
Wittgenstein, Ludwig, 1 26, 2 qn. r o
Wolf, E. , ix
Wordsworth, William, 1 53-54
Wulare, Bkari, 55, 56
Inx 239
Yaka, I I -1 2
Yegbe, Sinkari , 97, 98
Yilkanani . See Alexander the Great (king of Mac
edonia)
"Yilkanani" (Jackson) : anthroplogical allusions
in, I 63, I 65, I 67; autobiographical elements
in, I 63-64, I 65; colonialism in, I 64-65;
Greek folktales in, I 64; Kuranko stortelling
in, I 63, I 64, I 65; text of, I 62
Yoga, I I 9, I 38, 204n. 2
Yoruba: destiny as viewed by, 38-39; divination
of, 56, I 98n. 9; mortuary rites of, 85, 86;
witches of, 93
Young, ] . Z. , I 84
Yurok: correspondence theor of, I 39 I 40, I 44;
metaphor of, I 48, I 52; therapy of, I 39-40,
I 4I , I SO; transference as viewed by, I S I ,
2 I m. 39; world as viewed by, I 39
Yurukhemani. See Alexander the Great ( king of
Macedonia)
Zahan, D. , I 95n. 1 2 , 207n. so
Zande: divination of, 54 s8, 62, I 98n. I 3 ;
witches of, 93 , 96
Zb te Grek (Kazantzakis) , I 92n. I 5
Zulkamein, lskander. See Alexander the Great
(king of Macedonia)
Zulu: frst fuits ceremony of, I 27 ; heavenly prin
cess cult of, I 2 7; kinship as viewed by,
I 92n. I J ; mimetic rites of, 207n. 49; role rever
sals of, 1 2 7, 207n. 49

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Jackson 1989 - Paths Toward A Clearing PDF

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PATHS TOWARD A

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