Af/PL8010.

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O X FO R D L IB R A R Y O F
A F R IC A N L IT E R A T U R E
General Edftort

B. B. BVAN8-PRITCHARD
O. LIBNHARDT

The unwritten literature of Africa

is a subject attracting increasing
attention. The book discusses the
nature of the literature, the. various
genres of African poetry and prose,
and examines the social asC.well
as the more purely literary aspects
which are necessary for its full
appreciation. It is intended a s an
introduction to a fascinating su b
ject and as a guide to further
research. For those w ishing ; to
engage in specialist work in this
area, the bibliographic and .other
material will be indispensable? th e
volume will be of interest to
sociologists, as well as to the
literary critic or historian.

O xford Library o f A frican Literature

SELECTION OF AFRICAN PROSE

I, Traditional Oral Tacts. II. Written Prose

W .H. W HITBLBY
(TVwvobmus)

THE HEROIC RECITATIONS OF THE

BAHIMA OF ANKOLE

M. r . M o u n ts

S O M A L I P O E T R Y . An Introduction

8 . W . ANDRZBJBW8KI a n d t. M. LBW1S

PRAISE-POEMS OF TSWANA CHIEFS

I. 8CHAPBRA

THE GLORIOUS VICTORIES

OF 'AMDA SBYON, KING OF ETHIOPIA

to g eth er w ith t h b h is t o r y o p t h b b m p b r o r a n d c b 6 n
OTHBRW I8B CALLBD OABRA MAZ c X l BY PBRO PABZ
a. W. HUNTINOFORD
A SELECTION OF HAUSA STORIES

H. A. 8. JO HNSTO N

THE CONTENT AND FORM OF YORUBA IJALA

8. A. BABAX.OX.A

AKAMBA STORIES

JOHN 8. M D ITI

LIMBA STORIES AND STORYTELLING

ROTH PINNBCAN

THE MEDICINE MAN:

SW 1FA YA N G U V U M A LI

P8T8B LI8NHARDT

IZIBONGO: ZULU PRAISE POEMS

TRBVOR COP8

THE ZANDE TRICKSTER

B. B. BVAN8-PBITCHARO

S H I N Q lT l F O L K L I T E R A T U R E A N D S O N G

H. T. NORRIS

LITTERATURE DE COUR AU RWANDA

A COUP8Z

and TH.

KAMANZI

ORAL LITERATURE
IN AFRICA
R U T H F IN N E G A N

N A IR O B I
O X F O R D U N IV E R SIT Y PR E SS
D A R ES S A L A A M

O xford University Press

OXFORD LONDON GLASGOW
NEW YORK TORONTO MELBOURNE AUCKLAND
KUALA LUMPUR SINOAPORE HONG KONO TOKYO
DELHI BOMBAY CALCUTTA MADRAS KARACHI
NAIROBI DAR ES SALAAM CAPE TOWN

and associates in
B S r UT BERUN IBADAN MEXICO CITY NICOSIA

ISBN 0 19 572413 5
OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS 1970
OXFORD is a trademark of Oxford University Press
Reprinted 1977.

c* CL

1978. 1982. 1983. 1984

1970
1976

First Published by The Clarendon Press, Oxford

This paperback edition published in Kenya

Published by Oxford University Press, East and Central Africa, Science House,
Monrovia Street, P.O. Box 72532, Nairobi, Kenya and printed by Kenya Litho Ltd.,
Changamwe Road, P.O. Box 40775, Nairobi, Kenya.

To all my teachers

II

PREFACE

W hen

I first became interested in research into one particular

form o f African oral literature in 1961 found to m y surprise that
there was no easily accessible work to which I could turn to give
me some idea o f what was known in this field, the various publica
tions available, or the controversies and problems that demanded
further investigation. In fact, I gradually discovered, there was an
immense amount in print but most o f it was not easy to find, it
was not systematic, and there was relatively little treatment o f
contemporary forms. It was true that there was plenty o f work on
written African literature (which has received a lot o f publicity in
recent years) and, o f a rather speculative kind, on primitive
mentality or mythopoeic imagination. But on the oral side or on
the actual literary products o f such minds much less was said.
There therefore seemed a place for a general work on oral
literature in Africa, an introductory survey w hich could sum up
the present knowledge o f the field and serve as a guide to further
research. It seemed likely that.others too besides m yself had felt
the need to consult an introduction o f some kind to this subject.
It is hoped that the resulting book will be useful not only to those
intending to do specific research on African oral literature but also
to those with a general interest either in Africa or in literature
generally.
T h e aim in presenting the material has been to strike a balance
between general discussion and actual instances. It has been
necessary to include rather more detailed descriptions and quota
tions than might be the case with a book on European literatures,
as the majority o f African examples are not readily accessible and
too abstract a discussion would give little idea o f the intricacy
and artistic conventions o f many o f the oral forms. I t is also an in
trinsic part o f the book to consider some o f the social background
as well as the more purely aesthetic and stylistic features. W ith
A frican as with other literature it is essential to treat both literary
and social facets (if indeed these two are ultimately distinguishable
at all) for a full appreciation, a point too often neglected by writers
on this subject.

,1

VU1

Preface

T h is book is based only on the more obvious sources and is

intended as an introduction, not as a comprehensive account.
Only some examples are given from a huge field and experts in
particular areas will be able to point to exceptions and omissions.
Some of my conclusions too may turn out to be controversial;
indeed one o f m y hopes is to stimulate further publications and
study. O n each chapter and each section more research could
and I trust will take the subject very m uch further. But in spite
o f these limitations, the general purpose o f the book will, I hope,
be fulfilled to show that African oral literature is, after all, a
subject worthy o f study and interest, and to provoke further
research in this fascinating but too often neglected field.

Ibadan 1968

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I h a v e many thanks to express. A ll the editors o f the Oxford
Library o f African Literature have helped me in m any ways; in
particular Professor W ilfred W hiteley has worked through the
w hole book and made m any helpful suggestions and criticisms;
his serial letters on the subject over several m onths w ere a' highlight
o f 1967/8 and I am more grateful to him than I can say. T h e follow
ing have also read and commented on parts o f the book: D r. G .
Innes, M r. D . K . Rycroft, and M rs. Agnes Finnegan. I have
greatly appreciated and profited from their advice (even where I
have not taken all o f it). I have also had a num ber o f most helpful
discussions with M r. Robin Horton and w ith m y husband, D r.
D avid Murray. I have obviously used-the w ritings o f a great
number o f people, but w ould like to mention in particular the
stimulus I have received from work b y Bascom, Berry, Bowra,
Babalola, and, above all, N ketia; I have not always agreed with
them or even referred m uch directly to their work, b u t have con
stantly found them illuminating. Finally, the dedication is a serious
one. Anything that is o f interest in this book is ultimately due to
the many people over m any years who have taught me and I do
not mean only those w ho have taught me about A frica or about
anthropology.
I would also like to thank the staff o f libraries where I have
collected the material used here: especially the library o f the (then)
University College o f Rhodesia and Nyasaland (in particular for
allowing me access to the D oke Collection o f works on Bantu
studies); the library o f the U niversity o f Ibadan (especially the
Africana and reference librarians); and the library o f the Institute
o f Social Anthropology, O xford. I am also m ost grateful to the
Institute of African Studies, Ibadan, for a grant towards the cost of
obtaining photocopies o f articles not locally available.
I would like to thank the following authors and publishers for
permission to quote from the published works mentioned:
M r. Wande Abimbpla (The Odu of Ifa, African notes 1, 3, 1964).
Oba Adetoyese Laoye I, T h e Timi o f Ede ( The orikis o f 13 o f the
Titnis o f Ede, 1965).

Acknowledgements
Dr. Ethel M. Albert and the American Anthropological Association
('Rhetoric', 'logic', and poetics in Burundi, reproduced by per
mission o f the American Anthropological Association from the
American Anthropologist, vol. 66, no. 6, Pt. 2 (1964), pp. 35-54).
Professor R. G . Armstrong (Talking drums in the Benue-Cross River
region o f Nigeria, Phylon 15, 1954).
Professor William Bascom (The sanctions of Ifa divination, J . ray.
anthrop. institute 71,19 41; The forms of folklore: prose narratives,
J . American folklore 78,1965).
Professor Robin Horton and the International African Institute (The
Kalahari Ekine society: a borderland o f religion and art, Africa 33,
1963)Abb6 Alexis Kagame (La poesie dynastique au Rwanda, Institut royal
colonial beige, Mem. 22, 1, 1951).
Professor E . J. Krige and Shuter and Shooter (Pty.) Ltd. (The social
system o f the Zulus, 1936).
Mr. L . S. B. Leakey and Methuen & Company Ltd. (Defeating Man
Man, 1954).
Mbari publications (B. Gbadamosi and U . Bcier, Yorubapoetry, 1959;
H. Owuor, Luo songs, Black Orpheus 19, 1961).
Professor J. H. Nketia (Funeral dirges o f the Akan people, 1955; Akan
poetry, Black Orpheus 3, 1958; Drum proverbs, Voices of Ghana,
' Accra, Ministry of Information and Broadcasting, 1958; African
music in Ghana, 1962; Drumming in Akan communities of Ghana,
1963.)
Professor Willard Rhodes (Music as an agent of political expression,
African studies bulletin 5, 2, 1962).
Professor M . G . Smith and the International African Institute (The
social functions and meaning o f Hausa praise-singing, Africa 27,
*
).
Father F. Theuws (Textes Luba, Bulletin du centre d'etude des problfemes sociaux indigenes (C.E.P.S.I.) 27, 1954).
Dr. Hugh Tracey (Lalela Zulu', ZOO Zulu lyrics, 1948).
Professor A . N . Tucker (Childrens games and songs in the Southern
Sudan, J . roy. anthrop. institute 63, 1933).
M . Pierre Verger (Notes sur le culte des Orisa, Mem. I.F.A.N. 51,
*
)Witwatersrand University Press (extracts from the following articles
in Bantu studies and African studies on the pages mentioned: E . W.
Grant, T h e Izibongo of the Zulu chiefs, Bantu studies 13, 1927-9,
pp. 211-13,227; S. K . Lekgothoane, Praises of animals in Northern
Sotho, Bantu studies 12,1^38, pp. 193-5; P. A . W. Cook, History
and Izibongo o f the Swazt chiefs, Bantu studies 5,1931, p. 193; F.
Laydevant, T h e praises o f the divining bones among the Basotho,

957

957

Acknowledgements

xi

Bantu studies 7, 1933, pp. 349-50, 361, 369-70, 371; M . Read,

Songs of the Ngoni people, Bantu studies 11, 1937, pp. 14-15, x6,
25, 30; B. Stefaniszyn, The hunting songs of the Ambo, African
studies 10,1951, pp. 4 ,6 ,7 ,9 ,1 1 ; C.Cagnolo, Kikuyu tales, African
studies xi, 1952, pp. 128-9; I2> *
* P P -l2 9 ~3 )West Africa, Orbit House, London, E.C. 4 (R. Schachter, French
Guineas R.D.A. folk songs, West African review 29, 1958).

953

I am also indebted to the Delegates o f the O xford University

Press to quote from works published in the O xford Library o f
A frican Literature , and from L . Harries, Sw ahili poetry, 1962;
R. S . Rattray, Ashanti, 1923; R. S. Fletcher, Hausa sayings and
folk-lore, 1912; N . N jururi, Agikuyu fo lk tales, 1966; H . Tracey,
Chopi musicians, 1948.
I am also most grateful to the following for permission to quote
from various unpublished sources:
The Library, University College of Rhodesia (manuscripts in the
Doke Collection).
Mr. David Rycroft (personal communication quoted in Chapter 5).
University of the Witwatersrand (S. M. Mofokeng, Notes and anno
tations of the praise-poems of certain chiefs and the structure of the
praise-poems in Southern Sotho, unpub. honours thesis, 1945).

CONTENTS
ABBREVIATIONS
NOTE ON SOURCES AND REFERENCES
I ' INTRODUCTION

1.

T h e oral nature o f African unwritten literature

T h e significance of performance in actualization, transmission,
and composition. Audience and occasion. Implications for the
study of oral literature. Oral art as literature.

2.

T h e perception o f African oral literature

26

Nineteenth-century approaches and collections. Speculations and

neglect in the twentieth century. Recent trends in African studies
and the revival of interest in oral literature.

3.

T h e social, linguistic, and literary background

48

Social and literary background. The linguistic basis the example

of Bantu. Some literary tools. Presentation of the material. The
literary complexity o f African cultures.

II POETRY

4.

Poetry and patronage

8l

Variations in the poets position. Court poets. Religious patronage.

Free-lance end wandering poets. Part-time poets.
A note on 'epic'.

5.

Panegyric

III

Introductory: nature and distribution; composers and reciters;

occasions. Southern Bantu praise poetry: form and style; occa
sions and delivery; traditional and contemporary significance.

6.

Elegiac poetry
General and introductory. Akon funeral dirges: content and
themes; structure, style, and delivery; occasions and functions;
the dirge as literature.

. Contents

XIV

7.

Religious poetry
Introductory. Didactic and narrative religious poetry and the
Islamic tradition; the Swahili term. Hymns, prayers, and incanta
tions: general survey; the Fante Methodist lyric. Mantic poetry:
Sotho divining praises; odu Ifa (Yoruba).

8. Special purpose poetry war, hunting, and work

Military poetry: Nguni; Aknn. Hunting poetry: Yoruba ijala;
Ambo hunters songs. Work songs.

9.

Lyric
Occasions. Subject-matter. Form. Composition.

10.

T opical and political songs

Topical and local poetry. Songs o f political parties and move
ments: M au Mau hymns; Guinea R .D .A . songs; Northern Rho
desian party songs.

11.

Childrens songs and rhymes

Lullabies and nursery rhymes. Childrens games and verses;
Southern Sudanese action songs.

Ill

12.

. PROSE

Prose narratives I. Problems and theories

Introductory. Evolutionist interpretations. Historical-geographi
cal school. Classification and typologies. Structural-functional
approach. Conclusion.

13.

Prose narratives II. Content and form .

What is known to date: content and plot; main characters. Types
o f tales: animal stories; stories about people; myths ; legends
and historical narratives. What demands further study: occasions;
role o f narrators; purpose and function; literary conventions; per
formance; originality and authorship. Conclusion.

14.

Proverbs
The significance and concept of the proverb. Form and style.
Content. Occasions and functions. Specific examples: Jabo; Zulu;
Azande. Conclusion.

15.

Riddles
Riddles and related forms. Style and content. Occasions and uses.
Conclusion.

Contents

16.

xv

Oratory, formal speaking, and other stylized forms

444

Oratory and rhetoric: Burundi; l.imba. Prayers, curses, etc. Word

play and verbal formulas. Nunics.

IV . SOME SPECIAL FORMS

17.

Drum language and literature

481

Introductory the principle of drum language. Examples of drum

literature: announcements and calls; names; proverbs; poetry.
Conclusion.

18.

Drama

500

Introductory. Some minor examples: Bushman plays ; West

African puppet shows. Mande comedies. West African masquer
ades: South-Eastern Nigeria; Kalahari. Conclusion.

CONCLUSION

5 l8

BIBLIOGRAPHY

522

MAP SHOWING PEOPLES MENTIONED IN THE TEXT

INDEX

at end

537

ABBREVIATIONS
AA
A fr. (in journal tide)
A fr. u. Obersee
Am. Anthrop.

African Abstracts. London.

African/africain(eXs).
Afrika und Obersee. Berlin.
American Anthropologist. Menasha, Wis
consin.
AM RAC
M usic royal de VAfrique centrale. Amales
(sciences humaints). Tervuren.
AM RCB
M usic royal du Congo beige. Amales (sciences
humcnnes). Tervuren.
A M R C B -L
Music royal du Congo beige. Annales (sciences
de Ihomme, linguistique). Tervuren.
A m . et mbn. Com. it. A O F Amuaire et mbnoires du Com itid'ituda historiques et scientifiqua de VA O F. Gor6e.
Anth. Ling.
Anthropological Linguistics. Indiana.
Antk. Quart.
Anthropological Quarterly. Washington.
AR SC
Acadbnie royale da scienca coloniala (scienca
morala). Mbnoira. Brussels.
A R SO M
Acadbnie royale da sciences doutre-mer.
Mbnoira. Brussels.
A R S O M Bull.
Acadbnie royale da scienca doutre-mer.
Bulletin da slanca. Brussels.
B SO (A )S
Bulletin of the School of Oriental(and African)
Studies. London.
Bull. Com. it. A O F
Bulletin du Comiti d'itudes historiques et
scientifiqua de lA O F . Paris.
Bull. IF A N (B)
Institut franfais dAfrique noire. Bulletin
(s6rie B). Dakar, Paris.
Cah. itud. afr.
Cahiers d'itudes africaina. Paris.
CEPSI
Bulletin trimatriel du Centre d'itude des
problbnts sociaux indigkna. lisabethville.
IAI
International African Institute. London.
IFAN
Institut franfais dAfrique noire. Dakar.
IR C B Butt.
Institut royal colonial beige. Bulletin da
sianca. Brussels.
IR C B Mbn.
Institut royal colonial beige. Mbnoira.
Brussels.
JA F
Journal of American Folklore. Richmond,
Virginia.
JR A I
Journal of die Royal Anthropological Institute.
London.
J . Soe. africanista
Journal de la S ociiti d a qfricanista. Paris.
M bn. IF A N
Institut franfais d'Afrique noire. Mbnoira,
Dakar.
81U8M

xviii

A bbreviations

Mitt. Inst. Orientforsch.

Mitteilungen des Institute fur Orientforschung.

Berlin.
Mitteilungen des Seminars fur orientalische
Sprachen sni Berlin.
Oxford Library of African Literature. Ox
ford.
Rassegna di studi etiopici. Roma.
School o f Oriental and African Studies.
University of London.
Southwestern Journal of Anthropology. Al
buquerque.
Travauxet mdmoires de I'Institut d'ethnologie.
Paris.
Transactions of the Historical Society of
Ghana. Legon.
Zeitschrift fOr afrikanische (und oceanische)
Sprachen. Berlin.
ZeitschriftfUr Eingeborenen-Sprachen. Berlin.
Zeitschrift fdr Kolonial-Sprachen. Berlin.

M SO S
O LA L
Ross, studi etiop.
SOAS
sw ja

TM IE
Tram. Hist. Soc. Ghana
ZA ( 0 )S
ZE S
ZKS

NOTE ON SOURCES AND REFERENCES

O nly

the more obvious sources have been used. Where I have come
across unpublished material I have taken account of it but have not
made a systematic search. The sources are all documentary with the
exception of some comments arising from fieldwork among the Limba
o f Sierra Leone and a few points from personal observation in Western
Nigeria; gramophone recordings have also occasionally been used. In
general, I have tried not to take my main examples from books that are
already very easily accessible to the general reader. I have, for instance,
given references to, but not lengthy quotations from, the Oxford Library
of African Literature* series or the French 'Classiques africains.
In time, I have not tried to cover work appearing after the end of 1967
(though references to a few 1968 publications that I happen to have
seen are included). This means that the book will already be dated by
the time it appears, but obviously I had to break off at some point.
References are given in two forms: (1) the general bibliography at
the end, covering works I have made particular use of or consider of
particular importance (referred to in the text merely by author and date);
and (2) more specialized works not included in the general bibliography
(full references given ad loc.). This is to avoid burdening the.biblio
graphy at the end with too many references o f only detailed or
secondary relevance. With a handful of exceptions I have seen the works
I cite. Where this is not so, I have indicated it either directly or by
giving the source of the reference in brackets. Where I have seen an
abstract but not the article itself, this is shown by giving the volume
and number of African Abstracts (AA) in brackets after the reference.
The .bibliography and references are only selective. It would have
been out of the question to have attempted a comprehensive biblio
graphy.

THE ORAL NATURE OF AFRICAN

UNWRITTEN LITERATURE
T h e significance o f performance in actualization, trans
mission, and com position. Audience.and occasion. Implica
tions for the study o f oral literature. O ral art as literature.

A f r i c a possesses both written and unwritten traditions. T h e

form er are relatively well known at any rate the recent writings
in European languages (much work remains to be publicized on
earlier Arabic and local written literatures in Africa). T h e un
written forms, however, are far less widely known and appreciated.
Su ch forms do not At neatly into the familiar categories o f literate
cultures, they are harder to record and present, and, for a super
ficial observer at least, they are easier to overlook than the corre
sponding written material.
T h e concept o f an oral literature is an unfamiliar one to most
people brought up in cultures which^likc those o f contemporary
Europe, lay stress on the idea o f literacy and written tradition. In
the popular view it seems to convey on the one hand the idea o f
m ystery, on the other that o f crude and artistically undeveloped
formulations. In fact, neither o f these assumptions is generally
valid. Nevertheless, there are certain definite characteristics o f
this form o f art which arise from its oral nature, and it is important
at the outset to point to the implications o f these. T h e y need to be
understood before w e can appreciate the status and qualities o f
m any o f these African literary forms.
I t is only necessary here to speak o f the relatively simple oral
and literary characteristics o f this literature. I am not attempting
to contribute to any more ambitious generalized theory o f oral

Introduction

literature in term s o f its suggested stylistic or structural charac

teristics1 or o f the particular type o f mentality alleged to go with
reliance on oral rather than* written communication.2 T h ese larger
questions I leave on one side to concentrate on the more obvious
properties o f unwritten literature.1
i
Th ere is no m ystery about the first and most basic characteristic
o f oral literature even though it is constantly overlooked in collec
tions and analyses. T h is is the significance o f the actual perform
ance. O ral literature is b y definition dependent on a performer w ho
formulates it in words on a specific occasion there is no other
way in w hich it can be realized as a literary product. In the case o f
written literature a literary work can be said to have an independent
and tangible existence in even one copy, so that questions about,
say, the format, number, and publicizing o f other written copies
can, though not irrelevant, be treated to some extent as secondary;
there is, that is, a distinction between the actual creation o f a
written literary form and its further transmission. T h e case o f oral
literature is different. There the connection between transmission
and very existence is a much more intimate one, and questions
about the means o f actual communication are o f the first im
portance without its oral realization and direct rendition by
singer or speaker, an unwritten literary piece cannot easily be said
to have any continued or independent existence at all. In this
respect the parallel is less to written literature than to m usic and
dance; for these too are art forms w hich in the last analysis are
actualized in and through their performance and, furthermore, in a
sense depend on repeated performances for their continued existence.
T h e significance o f performance in oral literature goes beyond
a mere m atter o f definition: for the nature o f the performance
itself can make an important contribution to the impact o f the
1 On which see e.g. Jousse 1924; A . B. Lord, The Singer o f Tales, Cambridge,
Moss., i960; V . Propp, Morphology of the Folktale (Eng. tr.), Bloomington, 1958;
cf. OIriks 'epic laws (discussed in Thompson 1946, pp. 455 ff.).
* e.g. C . L6vi-Stmuss, The Savage M ind (Eng. tr.), London, 1966; cf. also
the discussion and references in Goody and Watt 1963.
* For the general discussion in this chapter see. particularly the valuable brief
article by Bascom ia J A F 1955, also Chadwicks 1932-40 (especially vol. iii) and
Chadwick 1939. Some o f the moredetailed theories which have affected the study
o f African oral literature are discussed in Ch. 2.

The O ral N ature o f A frican Unwritten Literature

particular literary form being exhibited. T h is point is obvious if

w e consider literary form s designed to b e delivered to an audience
even in more familiar literate cultures. I f we take forms like a play,
a sermon, jazz poetry, even something as trivial as an afterdinner witty anecdote in all these cases the actual delivery is
a significant aspect o f the whole. Even though it is true that these
instances may also exist in written form, they only attain their true
fulfilment when actually performed.
T h e same clearly applies to African oral literature. In, for
example, the brief A kan dirge
Amaago, wont you look?
Wont you look at my face?
When you are absent, we ask of you.
You have been away long: your children are waiting for you.1
the printed words alone represent only a shadow o f the full
actualization o f the poem as an aesthetic experience for poet and
audience. For, quite apart from the separate question o f the over
tones and symbolic associations o f words and phrases, the actual
enactment o f the poem also involves the emotional situation o f a
funeral, the singers beauty o f voice, her sobs, facial expression,
vocal expressiveness and movements (all indicating the sincerity
o f her grief), and, not least, the musical setting o f the poem. In
fact, all the variegated aspects we think o f as contributing to the
effectiveness o f performance in the case o f more familiar literary
form s m ay also play their part in the delivery o f unwritten pieces
expressiveness o f tone, gesture, facial expression, dramatic use o f
pause and rhythm, the interplay o f passion, dignity, or humour,
receptivity to the reactions o f the audience, etc., etc. Such devices
are not mere embellishments superadded to the already existent
literary work as w e think o f them in regard to written literature
-r-but an integral as w ell as flexible part o f its full realization as a
work o f art.
Unfortunately it is precisely this aspect which is most often over
looked in recording and interpreting instances o f oral literature.
T h is is partly due, no doubt, to practical difficulties; but even
more to the unconscious reference constantly made b y both re
corders and readers to m ore familar written forms. T h is model
leads us to think o f the written element as the primary and thus
1 Nketia 1955, p. 184.

Introduction

somehow the most fundamental material in every kind o f litera

ture a concentration on the words to the exclusion o f the vital
and essential aspect o f performance. It cannot be too often em pha
sized that this insidious model is a profoundly misleading one in
the case of oral literature.
T h is point comes across the more forcibly when one considers
the various resources available to the performer of African literary
works to exploit the oral potentialities o f his medium. T h e
linguistic basis o f much African literature is treated in a later
chapter;1 but w e must at least note in passing the striking con
sequences o f the highly tonal nature o f m any African languages.
Tone is sometimes used as a structural clement in literary expres
sion and can be exploited b y the oral artist in ways somewhat
analogous to the use o f rhyine or rhythm in written European
poetry. M any instances o f this can be cited from African poetry,
proverbs, and above all drum literature. T h is stylistic aspect is
almost completely unrepresented in written versions or studies o f
oral literature, and yet is clearly one w hich can be manipulated
in a subtle and effective w ay in the actual process of delivery.2 T h e
exploitation o f musical resources can also play an important part,
varying o f course according to the artistic conventions o f the
particular genre in question. M ost stories and proverbs tend to be
delivered as spoken prose. But the Southern Bantu praise poems,
for instance, and the Yoruba hunters ijahi poetry are chanted in
various kinds o f recitative, employing a semi-musical framework.
Other forms draw fully on musical resources and make use o f
singing by soloist or soloists, not infrequently accompanied or
supplemented by a chorus or in some cases instruments. Indeed,
much of what is normally classed as poetry in African oral litera
ture is designed to be performed in a musical setting, and the
musical and verbal elements are thus interdependent. An apprecia
tion, therefore, o f these sung forms (and to some extent the chanted
ones also) depends on at least some awareness o f.th e musical
material on which the. artist draws, and w e cannot hope fu lly to
understand their impact or subtlety if w e consider only the bare
words on a printed page.
In addition the performer has various visual resources at his
disposal. T h e artist is typically face to face with his public and can
1 Ch. 3.

1 For further details on the significance o f tone see Ch. 3, pp. 69 ff.

The 'O ral* N ature o f A frican Unw ritten Literature

take advantage of this to enhance the impact and even sometimes

the content o f his words. In many stories, fo r example, the
characterization o f both leading and secondary figures may appear
slight; but what in literate cultures must be w ritten, explicitly or
implicitly, into the text can in orally delivered form s be conveyed
by more visible means b y the speakers gestures, expression, and
m im icry. A particular atmosphere whether o f dignity for a kings
official poet, light-hearted enjoyment for an evening story-teller,
grief for a woman dirge singer can be conveyed not only by
a verbal evocation o f mood but also by the dress, accoutrements,
or observed bearing o f the performer. T h is visual aspect is some
times taken even further than gesture and dramatic bodily move
m ent and is expressed in the form o f a dance, often joined b y
members o f the audience (or chorus). In these cases the verbal
content now represents only one clement in a complete opera
like performance w hich combines words, music, and dance.
T h o u gh this extreme type is not characteristic o f most forms o f
oral literature discussed in this volume, it is nevertheless not un
com m on; and even in cases where the verbal elem ent seems to
predominate (sometimes in co-ordination w ith music), the actual
delivery and movement o f the performer m ay partake o f some
thing o f the clement o f dancing in a w ay which to both performer
and audience enhances the aesthetic effectiveness o f the occasion.
M u ch more could be said about the many other means which the
oral performer can em ploy to project his literary products his
use, for instance, o f vivid ideophones or o f dramatized dialogue, or
his manipulation o f the audiences sense o f hum our or suscepti
bility (when played on b y a skilled performer) to be amazed, or
shocked, or moved, or enthralled at appropriate moments. But it
should be clear that oral literature has somewhat different poten
tialities from written literature, and additional resources which the
oral artist can develop for his own purposes; and that this aspect
is o f primary significance for its appreciation as a m ode o f aesthetic
expression.
T h e detailed w ay in w hich the performer enacts the literary
product o f his art naturally varies both from culture to culture and
also among the different literary genres o f one language. N ot all
types o f performance involve the extremes o f dramatization. Som e
times indeed the artistic conventions demand the exact opposite
a dignified aloof bearing, and emphasis on continuity o f delivery

Introduction

rather than on studied and receptive style in the exact choice o f

Words. T h is is so, for instance, o f the professional reciter o f
historical Rwanda poetry, an official conscious o f his intellectual
superiority over amateurs and audience alike:
Contrairement a Famateur, qui gesticule du corps et de la voix, le
rlcitsnt professionncl adopte une attitude impassible, un debit rapide
et monotone. Si lauditoire reagit cn riant ou en cxprimant son admira
tion pour un passage particulierement brillant, il suspend la voix avec
ddtachement jusquk ce que le silence soit retabli.1
T h is m ight seem the antithesis o f a reliance on the arts o f per
formance for the projection o f the poem. In fact it is part o f this
particular convention and, for the audience, an essential part. T o
this kind o f austere style o f delivery w e can contrast the highly
emotional atmosphere in which the southern Sotho praise poet is
expected to pour out his panegyric. O ut o f the background o f song
by solo and chorus, working up to a pitch o f excitement and highly
charged emotion,
the chorus increases in its loudness to be brought to a sudden stop with
shrills of whistles and a voice (of the praise poet) is heard: Ka-mohopola mora-Nyeo! (I remember the son o f so-and-so!)
Behind that sentence lurks all the stored up emotions and without
pausing, the. name . . . is followed by an outburst of uninterrupted
praises, save perhaps by a shout from one o f the listeners: Ke-ne ke-leteng (I was present) as if to lend authenticity to the narration. T h e
praiser continues his recitation working himself to a pitch, till he jumps
this way and that way while his mates cheer h im . . . and finally when his
emotion has subsided he looks at his mates and shouts: 'Ntjeng, Banna
(lit. Eat me, you men). After this he may burst again into another
ecstasy to be stopped by a shout from him or from his friends: Ha e
nye bolokoe kaofela! or Ha e nye lesolankaF a sign that he should stop.2
Different again are the styles adopted b y story-tellers where there
tends to be little o f this sort o f emotional intensity, but where
the vividness and, often, humour o f the delivery add drama and
meaning to th e relatively simple and straightforward w ording.
T h e Lam ba narrator has been particularly well described:
It would need a combination of phonograph and kinematograph to
reproduce a tale as it is to ld .. . . Every muscle of face and body spoke,
a swift gesture often supplying the place o f a whole sentence.. . . The
* Coupez and Kamanzi 1962, p. 8.

2 Mofokeng 1945, p. 137.

The Ora/ N ature o f A frican Unwritten Literature

animals spoke each in its own tone: the deep rumbling voice o f Momba,
the ground hombill, for example, contrasting vividly with the piping
accents of Sulwe, the hare . . .*
Even within the same culture there may be many set styles o f
performance designed to suit the different literary genres recog
nized in the culture. Indeed these genres are sometimes primarily
distinguished from each other in terms of their media of per
formance rather than their content or purpose. In Yoruba poetry,
for instance, the native classification is not according to subjectmatter or structure but b y the group to which the reciter belongs
and, in particular, b y the technique o f recitation and voice pro
duction. T h u s there is ijala (chanted b y hunters in a high-pitched
voice), rara(a slow, wailing type o f chant), and etui (using a falsetto
voice), and even though the content o f various types may often be
interchangeable, a master in one genre will not feel competent to
perform a different type: he may know the words but cannot
manage the necessary subtleties o f tone and style and the required
type o f voice production.2 M any other cases could also be cited
where the mode o f performance is as significant for the native
critic as actual content or structure.
So far we have been speaking o f the importance of performance
in all types o f oral literature and o f the way in which techniques o f
delivery can be variously exploited and evaluated by performer or
audience. But there is a further, 'related,- characteristic o f oral
literature to w hich w e must now turn. T h is is the question o f
improvisation and original composition in general. In other words,
something more m ay be involved in the delivery o f an oral piece
than the fact o f its actualization and re-creation in and through
the performance, aided b y a technique o f delivery that heightens
its artistic effectiveness. Th ere are also the cases when the per
former introduces variations on older pieces or even totally new
forms in terms o f the detailed wording, the structure, or the content.
T h e extent o f this kind of innovation, o f course, varies with both
genre and individual performer, and the question o f original com
position is a difficult one. It is clear that the process is b y no means
the same in all non-literate cultures or all types o f oral literature,1
< Smith and Dale.ii, 1920, p. 336.
1 Gbadamoai and Beier 1959, pp. 9 -io ; Babalfla 1966, pp. vi, 33.
* On some of the many variations in the forms o f composition (including
musical composition) among different peoples see Nettl 19546 and 1956, esp.
pp. 12 ff.

Introduction

and between the extremes o f totally new creation and memorized

reproduction of set pieces there is scope for many different theories
and practices o f composition. There are, for instance, the longconsidered and rehearsed compositions o f Chopi singers, the more
facile improvisation o f a leader in a boat- or dance-song, the com
bination and recombination o f known m otifs into a single unique
performance among L im ba story-tellers. T h ere are also occasional
cases, like the Rwanda poet just mentioned, where there is interest
in the accuracy and authenticity o f the wording (at least in outline)
and where memorization rather than creation is the expected role
o f the performer.
In spite o f the very real significance o f these variations, one o f
the striking characteristics o f oral as distinct from written litera
ture is its verbal variability. What m ight be called the same poem
or prose piece tends to be variable to such an extent that one has to
take some account at least o f the original contribution of the artist
who is actualizing it and not simply in terms o f the technique o f
delivery. Take for instance the case o f Ankole praise poems. Since
the ideas expressed in these poems are stereotyped and repetitive,
the omwevugi (poet/reciter) must change the wording to obtain
variety.
[He] has to rely to a great extent upon the manner in which he
expresses these ideas in order to give beauty and interest to his poem.
Herein lies the art of the accomplished omwevugi who, by the ingenious
choice of his vocabulary, can repeat identical themes time and time
again, always with a different and startling turn of phrase.1
Again, there is the production o f stories among the Thonga. It is
worth quoting Junods excellent description o f this at some length.
Having postulated the antiquity of Thonga tales, he goes o n :
This antiquity is only relative: that is to say they are constantly
transformed by the narrators and their transformations go much further
than is generally supposed, further even than the Natives themselves
are aware of. After having heard the same stories told by different
story-tellers, I must confess that I never met with exactly the same
version. First of all words differ. Each narrator has his own style, speaks
freely and does not feel in any way bound by the expressions used by
the person who taught him the tale. It would be a great error to think
that, writing a story at the dictation of a Native, we possess the recog
nized standard form of the tale. There is no standard at al l l . . .
* Morris 1964, p. 25.

The ' O ral' N ature o f A frica n Unwritten L iterature

T h e same can be said with regard to the sequence o f the episodes;

although these often form definite cycles, it is rare to hear two narrators
follow exactly the same order. They arrange their material as they like,
sometimes in a very awkward w a y . . . .
I go further: N ea elements are also introduced, owing to the tendency
o f Native story-tellers always to apply circumstances o f their environ
ment to the narration. This is one o f the charms o f Native tales. They
are living, viz., they are not told as if they were past and remote events,
in an abstract pattern, but considered as happening amongst the hearers
themselves. . . . So all the new objects brought by civilisation are,
without the slightest difficulty, made use of by the narrator.. . .
Lastly, my experience leads me to think that, in certain cases, the
contents o f the stories themselves are changed by oral transmission, this
giving birth to numerous versions of a tale, often very different from
each other and sometimes hardly recognisable.1
T h e scope o f the artist to improvise or create m ay vary, but
there is almost always some opportunity for composition. It comes
out in the exact choice o f w ord and phrase, the stylistic devices
like the use o f ideophones, asides, or repetitions, the ordering o f
episodes or verses, new twists to familiar plots or the introduction
o f completely new ones, improvisation or variation o f solo lines
even while the chorus remains the same as well, o f course, as all
the elaborations and modifications to which the musical aspect is
subject. Such additions and changes naturally take place within
the current literary and cultural conventions but what is in
volved, nevertheless, is some degree of individual creativity.1 W ith
only a few exceptions, this process is likely to enter into the
actualization of any piece o f oral literature, w hich thus becomes
in one sense a unique literary work the w ork rendered on one
particular occasion.
T h e variability typical o f oral literary form s has tended to be
overlooked by many writers. T h is is largely because o f certain
theoretical assumptions held in the past about the verbatim hand
ing down of oral tradition supposedly typical o f non-literate
societies. T h e model o f written literature has also been misleading
in this context, with its concept of exact transmission through
manuscripts or printing press. It must therefore be stressed yet
1 Junod 1913, ii, pp. 198-200. T he whole of this passage is worth con
sulting.
* For instances of this see the various examples in Parts II and III and in
particular the discussion in Ch. 9, pp. 266 ff.

io

Introduction

again that many o f the characteristics we now associate with a

written literary tradition do not always apply to oral art. T h ere is
not necessarily any concept o f an authentic version, and when
a particular literary piece is being transmitted to an audience the
concepts o f extemporization or elaboration are often m ore likely
to be to the fore than that o f memorization. There is likely to be
little o f the split, familiar from w ritten forms, between composition
and performance or between creation and transmission. A failure
to realize this has led to many misconceptions in particular the
presentation o f one version as the correct and authentic one and
to only a partial understanding o f the crucial contribution made
by the performer himself.
A further essential factor is the audience, which, as is not the case
with written forms, is often directly involved in the actualization
and creation o f a piece o f oral literature. According to convention,
genre, and personality, the artist m ay be more or less receptive to
his listeners reactions but, w ith few exceptions,1 an audience o f
some kind is normally an essential part o f the whole literary situa
tion. T h ere is no escape for the oral artist from a face-to-face con
frontation w ith his audience, and this is something w hich he can
exploit as well as be influenced b y. Sometimes he chooses to involve
his listeners directly, as in story-telling situations where it is com
mon fo r the narrator to open w ith a formula which explicitly
arouses his audience's attention; he also often expects them to
participate actively in the narration and, in particular, to join in
the choruses o f songs which he introduces into the narrative.2 T h e
audience can be exploited in sim ilar ways in the performance o f
poetry, particularly in sung lyrics w here it is common practice for
the poet to act as leader, singing and improvising the verse line,
while the audience performs as a chorus keeping up the burden o f
the song, sometimes to the. accompaniment o f dancing or instru
mental m usic. In such cases the d o se connection between artist
and audience can almost turn into an identity, the chorus directly
partidpating in at least certainparts o f the performance.
E ven in less formalized relationships the actual literary expres
sion can b e greatly affected b y the presence and reactions o f the
audience. F o r one thing, the typ e o f audience involved can affect
1 e.g. the solitary working songs, some herding Songs, sometimes individual
rehearsals for later performance, and perhaps some o f the lullabies.
a For further details on audience participation in stories see Ch. t3 ,pp. 385 ff.

The O ra l* N ature o f A frican Unwritten Literature

the presentation o f an oral piece the artist may tend, for instance,
to omit obscenities, certain types o f jokes, or complex forms in the
presence of, say, children or missionaries (or even foreign students)
which he would include in other contexts. And direct references to
the characteristics, behaviour, or fortunes o f particular listeners
can also be brought in with great effectiveness in a subtle and
flexible w ay not usually open to written literature. Members of the
audience too need, not confine their participation to silent listening
or a mere acceptance o f the chief performer's invitation to par
ticipate they may also in some circumstances break into the
performance w ith additions, queries, or even criticisms. T h is is
common not only in the typical and expected case o f story-telling
but even in such formalized situations as that o f the complex
Yoruba ijala chants. A performance b y one ijala artist is critically
listened to b y other experts present, and i.' one thinks the performer
has made a mistake he cuts in with such words as
I beg to differ; that is not correct.
You have deviated from the path of accuracy . . .
Ire was not Oguns home town.
Ogun only called there to drink palm-wine . . .
to which the performer may try to defend himself by pleading his
own knowledge or suggesting that others should respect his in
tegrity:
Let not the civet-cat trespass on the cane rats track.
Let the cane rat avoid trespassing on the civet-cats path.
Let each animal follow the smooth stretch o f its own road.1
T h is possibility o f both clarification and challenge from members
o f the audience and their effect on the performance is indeed one
o f the main distinctions between oral and written literary pieces.
A s Plato put it long ago: It is the sam e with written words [as
w ith painting]. Y o u would think they were speaking as i f they
were intelligent, but i f you ask them about what they are saying
and want to learn [more], they just go on saying one and the same
thing for ever.2 T h is leads on to a further important characteristic
o f oral.literature: the significance o f the actual occasion, w hich
can directly affect the detailed content and form o f the piece being
performed. O ral pieces are not composed in the study and later
1 Babalfla 1966, pp. 64, 62.

* Phatdrut, 275 d.

12

Introduction

transmitted through the impersonal and detached medium o f

print, but tend to be directly involved in the occasions o f their
actual utterance. Some o f the poetry to be discussed in this
volume is specifically occasional, in that it is designed for
and arises from particular situations like funerals, weddings,
celebrations of victory, soothing a baby, accom panying work, and
so on; again, with certain prose forms (like, for instance, proverbs),
appropriateness to the occasion may be m ore highly valued b y
local critics than the verbal content itself. B u t even when there is
not this specific connection, a piece o f oral literature tends to be
affected by such factors as the general purpose and atmosphere o f
the gathering at which it is rendered, recent episodes in the minds
o f performer and audience, or even the tim e o f year and pro
pinquity of the harvest. M any oral recitations arise in response to
various social obligations which, in turn, are exploited by poet and
narrator for his own purposes. T h e performer o f oral pieces could
thus be said to be more involved in actual social situations than
the writer in more familiar literate traditions.
ii

These characteristic qualities o f oral literary form s have several

implications for the study o f oral literature. I t is always essential
to raise points which w ould seem only secondary in the case o f
written literature questions about the details o f performance,
audience, and occasion. T o ignore these in an oral work is to risk
missing much o f the subtlety, flexibility, and individual originality
o f its creator and, furthermore, to fail to give consideration to the
aesthetic canons o f those intimately concerned in the production
and the reception of this form o f literature.
T h is is easy enough to state but such implications are exceed
ingly difficult to pursue. N ot only is there the seductive model o f
written literature which constantly tempts one to set aside such
questions for the more familiar textual analysis; there are also
practical difficulties to surmount. T h e words themselves are rela
tively easy to record (even though this is often not done with m uch
scholarly rigour): one can use dictation, texts w ritten by assistants,
or recordings on tape. B ut for the all-important aspect o f the actual
performance how is one to record this? E ven m ore difficult, how
is one to convey it to readers not themselves acquainted w ith this

The *O ral Nature o f African Unwritten Literature

13

art form ? In the days before the availability o f the portable taperecorder this problem w as.practically insuperable.1 T h e general
tendency was thus for the early scholars to rely only on written
records o f the oral literature th ey collected. In m any cases, further
more, they were using quite inadequate sources, perhaps second
hand (so that they themselves had not direct experience o f the
actual performance involved), or in synopsis only w ith the artistic
elaborations or repetitions om itted. T h is in itself goes a long way
to account for the very simplified impression o f A frican oral
literature w e often receive from these collections (particularly
when it is remembered that they emphasized prose narrative rather
than the m ore elaborate and difficult poetic forms). T h is was all
the more unfortunate because the common practice o f concen
trating on the texts only encouraged others to follow the same
pattern even when it became open to them to use new media
for recording.
B y now there is an increasing, though b y no means universal,
reliance on the tape-recorder b y serious students o f African oral
literature. T h is medium has helped immensely in solving some
o f the problems o f recording details o f the performance. But the
visual effects produced b y the artist still tend to elude record.
Furthermore, the problem o f communicating the style o f per
formance to a wider audience is still a real one: few if any pub
lishers are prepared to include recordings w ith their collections o f
published texts. T h u s the public is still given the impression o f
African oral literature as a kind o f written literature manqui
apparently lacking the elaboration o f wording and recognizability
o f associations known from fam iliar forms, and w ithout the particu
lar stylistic devices peculiar to oral forms being made clear.
E ven when the importance o f performance is stressed in general
terms, m ore needs to be said to convey the particular style and
flavour o f any given genre. A full appreciation m ust depend on an
analysis not only of the verbal interplay and overtones in the piece,
its stylistic structure and content, but also o f the various detailed
devices w hich the performer has at his disposal to convey his pro
duct to the audience, and the varying ways these are used by
1 A few early observers speak o f recording certain of their texts on the
phonograph*. See e.g. Torrend 1921 (Northern Rhodesian stories, including
songs); N . W . Thomas, Anthropological Report on the Edo-speaking Peoples o f
Nigeria, London, 1910, vol. ii; Lindblom iii, 1934, p. 41 (Kamba songs, recorded
about 191a).
8181SU
C

14

Introduction

different individuals. Som ething also needs to be said o f the role

and status o f the composer/performer who is the one to com
municate this oral art directly to his public, the variant form s that
arise according to audience and occasion, the reactions and par
ticipation likely to be forthcom ing from his listeners and spectators,
the respective contributions, i f any, o f musical or balletic elements,
and finally the social contexts in w hich this creation and re-creation
takes place.
A ll these factors are for m ore difficult to discover and describe
than a m ere transcription o f the texts themselves, followed by
their leisured analysis. I t is not surprising that most editions o f
oral art concentrate on the textual aspect and say little or nothing
about the other factors. But, difficult or not, without the inclusion
o f some consideration o f such questions we have scarcely started
to understand its aesthetic developm ent as a product o f literary
artistry.
Various questionable assumptions about the nature o f oral
tradition and so-called folk art among non-literate people have
not made matters any easier. Several o f these theories are discussed
in some detail in later chapters, but briefly they include such ideas
as that 'oral tradition (including what we should now call oral
literature) is passed down w ord for word from generation to
generation and thus reproduced verbatim from m emory through
out the centuries; or, alternatively, that oral literature is something
that arises communally, from the people or the folk as a whole,
so that there can be no question o f individual authorship or
originality. It can be seen how both these assumptions have
inevitably discouraged interest in the actual contemporaneous
performance, variations, and the role o f the individual poet or
narrator in the final literary product. A related assumption was that
oral literature (often in this context called folklore) was relatively
undeveloped and prim itive; and this derogatory interpretation was
applied to oral literature both in com pletely non-literate societies
and when it coexisted with w ritten literary forms in civilized
cultures. T h is opinion received apparent confirmation from the
appearance o f bare prose texts in translation or synopsis, and
people felt no need to enter into m ore profound analysis about,
say, the overtones and artistic conventiohs underlying these texts,
far less the individual contribution o f performer and composer.
Th ere was thus no need for further elucidation, for it was assumed

The O ra l' N ature o f African Unwritten Literature

15

in advance that little o f real interest could emerge from this 'in
herently crude oral medium.
T h ere are also various other special difficulties about the pre
sentation o f A frican oral literature how, for instance, to delimit
literary from everyday speech form s'or convey the subtleties or
overtones w hich only emerge fully to one familiar with the cultural
and literary traditions o f the society. B ut these do not arise directly
from the oral nature o f African literature and w ill thus be more
suitably discussed later. T h e main point I want to reiterate here,
the more em phatically because o f the w ay it has so often been
overlooked in th e past, is that in the case o f oral literature, far more
extremely than w ith written forms, the bare words can not be left
to speak for themselves, for the simple reason that in the actual
literary work so m uch else is necessarily and intimately involved.
W ith this type o f literature a knowledge o f the whole literary and
social background, covering these various points o f performance,
audience, and context, is, however difficult, o f the first importance.
Even i f some o f the practical problems o f recording and presenting
these points sometimes appear insoluble, it is at least necessary
to be aware o f these problems from the outset, rather than, as so
commonly happens, substituting for an awareness o f the shallow
ness o f our own understanding an imaginary picture o f the shallow
ness in literary appreciation and development o f the peoples we are
attempting to study.
in
So far w e have been concentrating on the oral aspect o f African
unwritten literature the implications o f this for the nature o f such
literature and the difficulties o f presentation and analysis to which it
gives rise. L ittle has yet been said about the literary status o f these
oral products, and w e have indeed been begging the question o f how
far these can in fact b e regarded as a type o f literature at all.
Various positions have been taken up on this question. A
number o f the scholars who have carried out extensive studies
o f the oral art o f non-literate peoples are quite dogmatic about
the suitability o f the term literature. N . K . Chadwick, for one,
is explicit on this point:
In civilised countries we are inclined to associate literature with
writing; but such an association is accidental. . . . Millions of people

16

Introduction

throughout Asia, Polynesia, Africa and even Europe who practise the
art of literature have no knowledge of letters. Writing is unessential to
either the composition or the preservation of literature. The two arts
are wholly distinct1
T h is general view is supported, b y implication at least, b y the
many writers who have referred to their collections or descriptions
o f oral forms by such terms as oral literature', unwritten litera
ture, or sometimes popular or traditional literature.2 T h e oppo
site viewpoint, however, also seems to carry weight. T h ere is, for
one thing, the association, both popular and etymological, between
literature and letters or writing. T h e fact, furtherm ore, that oral
art depends for its creation on the actual (and thus ephemeral)
performance o f it seems to some to disqualify it from true literary
status, so that other terms like folk art, folklore, or verbal art
appear more accurate designations. Added to this is the alleged
practicality so often supposed to be the root o f prim itive art forms.
According to this view, even if some prim itive formulation, say
a story, might seem in outward form, style, or content to present
a superficial resemblance to a written work o f fiction, in essentials,
being fundamentally pragmatic rather than aesthetic, it is some
thing wholly different. Finally, individual authorship is often pre
sumed not to be in question in the case o f oral forms, being
replaced, according to current fashions, b y such supposed entities
as the group mind, the fo lk, social structure, or sim ply tradi
tion, all o f which equally result in a finished product with a totally
different basis and orientation from that o f w ritten literature. T h is
kind o f view, then, would draw a basic distinction between, on the
one hand, the products o f a written literary tradition and, on the
other, most i f not all of th e instances o f verbal art included in this
and similar volumes.
In this controversy, m y own position is clearly im plied in both
m y title and the discussion so far. It is that, despite difficulties of
exact delimitation and presentation, the main b ody o f the material
I discuss and illustrate in this volume falls within the domain of
literature (the class of literature I call oral literature) ; and that it is
misleading as well as unfruitful to attempt to draw a strict line be
tween the verbal art of literate and o f non-literate cultural traditions.*
* Chadwick 1939, p. 77.
* For some reference to early approaches of this kind in Africa see Ch. 2,
pp. 30 f.

The 'O ra l' Nature o f African Umvritteh Literature

17

In part this approach is an arbitrary one. It is, after all, open to

anyone to produce a wide enough definition o f literature for all
the examples produced here to fit w ithin its limits or a narrower
one to exclude them. But it is also adopted because it has been
found that to approach instances o f oral art as literary form s and
thus proceed to ask about them the same kind o f questions we
m ight raise in the case o f written literature, has in fact been a
productive approach leading to both further appreciation o f the
oral form s and a deeper understanding o f their role in society.
Such an approach then is in principle its own justification how
justifiable it in fact turns out to be in leading to greater insight can
be left to the readers o f this book to ju d g e.1 But there is also more
to this view than whether or not it is a fruitful one. It seems to me
to bear m ore relation to the em pirical facts than its opposite in
that m any o f the apparent reasons for the supposed cleavage
between oral and written form s have in fact rested on mistaken
assumptions. So, even though I am not attempting to put forward
any new definition or theory o f literature an attempt likely to
raise as m any difficulties as it solves some o f these misleading
points should be clarified at this stage.2
T h e first point can be easily disposed of. T h e etymological con
nections between literature and w riting may seem at first a d ear
validation for limiting the term to literate cultures. B ut even i f w e
are prepared to be coerced b y etymologies (and w h y should we,
unless to rationalize already held assumptions ?), w e must adm it that
this association by no means exists in all languages w e need only
mention the German Wortkunst or Russian slovesnost3 so it can
hardly be said to have universal validity.
T h e fact o f a positive and strongly held popular assodation
between w riting and literature is m ore difficult to deal with.
Current prejudices may be false, but they go deep. A n d this is
esp edally so when they are securely rooted in particular historical
and cultural experiences, so that the familiar and traditional form s
o f a given culture come to be regarded as the natural and universal
ones, expected to hold good for all tim es and places. T h is kind o f
1 Or, better, to the readers of such original and detailed studies as e.g. Nketia
1955, etc., Babalfla 1966, Kagame 1951&.
* Several o f them are more fully elaborated in later chapters, particularly
Ch. 2.
3 Pointed out in R. Wellek and A . Warren, Theory o f Literature, London,

1949. P- .

18

Introduction

ethnocentric preconception has had to be revised b y scholars in

other spheres such as, for instance, the study o f m odes o f political
organization or religious practices, as they are view ed in the light
o f w ider research and thus greater comparative perspective. T h is,
it seems now, may also be th e case with the study o f literature. In
spite o f the natural reluctance to regard very different verbal forms
as o f ultimately the same nature as our own familiar types, we have
at least to consider the possibility that the literary models of (in
effect) a few centuries in th e W estern world, w hich happen to be
based on writing and m ore especially on printing, m ay not in fact
exhaust all the possibilities o f literature.
T h is possibility can be rendered more intelligible b y considering
further the relationship betw een oral and w ritten literature. It
becom es clear that this is a difference o f degree and not o f kind:
there are many different gradations between w hat one could take
as the oral and the printed ideal types o f literature. I t is perhaps
enough to allude to the literature o f the classical w orld which, as
is w ell known, laid far m ore stress on the oral aspect than does
m ore recent literature. E ven laying aside the famous and contro
versial question o f the possible oral composition o f H om er's great
epics (universally passed as literature), we can see that the pre
sence o f writing can coexist w ith an emphasis on the significance
o f performance as one o f th e main means o f the effective trans
mission o f a literary work. F o r the Greeks there was a dose
association between words, m usic, and dance one w hich seems
m uch less obvious to a m odern European and Aristotle, still
accepted as one o f the great literary critics, can give as his first
reason for considering tragedy superior to epic the fact that it
makes an additional im pact through music and visual effects.1
T h rough out much o f antiquity even written works w ere normally
read aloud rather than silently, and one means o f transm itting and,
as it w ere, publishing* a literary composition was to deliver it
aloud to a group o f friends. In such cases the relationship o f the
perform ance and transmission o f literary works to th e content is
not totally dissimilar from th at in African oral literature.
W hat is true o f classical literature is also true o f m any cultures
in w hich w riting is practised as a specialist rather than a universal
art and, in particular, in societies without the printing-press to
make the multiplication o f copies feasible. W e are so accustomed,
1 Poeiict, 1462s.

The *O ra l N ature o f African Unwritten Literature

19

at our present stage o f history, to associate the written word with

print that w e tend to forget that the mere fact o f writing does
not necessarily involve the type o f detachment and relatively
impersonal m ode o f transmission that we connect with printing.
Transmission by reading aloud or by performing from memory
(sometimes accompanied by improvisation) is not at all incompat
ible with some reliance on writing a situation we find not only in
earlier European societies' but also in a few of the African instances
described later.2 H ere again the contrast between fully oral forms
on the one hand and the impersonal medium o f print on the other
is clearly only a relative one: we w ould hardly suggest that works
written and, in part, orally transmitted before the advent o f print
ing were therefore not literature, any more than we would be pre
pared to state dogmatically that the Homeric epics or an African
poem only became literature on the day they were first written
down.
Even in a society apparently dominated by the printed word the
oral aspect is not entirely lost. Perhaps because o f the common
idea that written literature is somehow the highest form o f the
arts, the current significance o f oral elements often tends to be
played down, i f not overlooked completely. But we can point to
the importance o f performance and production in a play, the idea
held b y some at least that much poetry can only attain its full
flavour when spoken aloud, or the 'increasing but often under
estimated significance o f the oral reproduction and dissemination
c f classic literary form s (as well as wholly new compositions) through
radio and television. A dd to this the interplay between the oral and
the written the constant interaction in any tradition between the
written word and, at the least, the common diction o f everyday
speech (an interaction which may w ell be heightened by the
spreading reliance on radio and television channels o f trans
mission), as well as the largely oral form s like speeches, sermons,
1 Cf. for instance H. J. Chaytors pertinent comment on medieval vernacular
literature: In short, the history of the progress from script to print is a history
of the gradual substitution o f visual for auditory methods of communicating and
receiving ideas.. . . T o disregard the matter and to criticise medieval literature
as though it had just been issued by the nearest circulating library is a sure and
certain road to a misconception of the medieval spirit* (From Script to Print,
an Introduction to Medieval Vernacular Literature, Cambridge, 1945, p. 4). The
oral aspects of manuscript culture are further discussed in M. McLuhan, The
Gutenberg Galaxy, Toronto, 1962.
1 See Ch. 3, pp. 49 if. and, in particular, Ch. 7, pp. 169 f., 172.

20

Introduction

childrens rhymes, satires depending in part on improvisation, or

many current pop songs, all o f which have both literary and oral
elements in view o f all this it becomes clear that even in a fully
literate culture oral formulations can play a real part, however
unrecognized, in the literary scene as a whole.
Even so brief an account suggests that our current preoccupa
tion with written, particularly printed, media may give only a
limited view and that the distinction between oral and written
forms may not be so rigid and SO' profound as is often implied. It
is already widely accepted that these two media can each draw on
the products of the other, for orally transmitted forms have fre
quently been adopted or adapted in written literature, and oral
literature too is prepared to draw on any source, including the
written word. T o this interplay we can now add the fact that when
looked at comparatively, the two forms, oral and written, arc not
so mutually exclusive as is sometimes imagined. Even if we picture
them as two independent extremes we can sec that in practice
there are many possibilities and many different stages between
the two poles and that the facile assumption o f a profound and un
bridgeable chasm between oral and written form s is a misleading
one.
Some further misconceptions about the nature o f oral forms
must be mentioned briefly here; they will be taken up further in
the main body o f the book. First, the idea that all primitive (and
thus also all oral) art is severely functional, and thus basically
different from art in civilized cultures. T o this it must be replied
that this whole argument partly arises from a particular and
temporary fashion in the interpretation o f art (the rather unclear
idea o f art for arts sake); that since there is little detailed
empirical evidence on the various purposes of particular genres o f
oral literature it was much easier to write down texts and pre
sume functions than to make detailed inquiries about the local
canons of literary criticism this assertion rests as much on pre
supposition as on observed fact; and, finally, that the whole argu
m ent is partly just a matter o f words. H ow far and in what sense
and for whom a given piece o f literature is functional and just
how one assesses this is as difficult a question in non-literate as
in literate cultures. Certainly w e can say that even when we can
find a clear social purpose (and the 'occasional aspect in oral
literature varies according to genre, composer, and situation just

The 'O ra l Nature o f A frican Unwritten Literature

21

as it does in written literature), this by no means necessarily

excludes an interest in aesthetic as well as functional considera
tions.
T h e question o f authorship in oral literature has already been
mentioned in the context o f performance and o f the composition
that arises from this. By now, few people probably take very
seriously the concept of the group m ind or the folk m ind' as an
empirical entity to which the authorship o f particular literary
pieces could be assigned. But in the case o f the oral literature of
basically unfamiliar cultures this idea acquires an apparent validity
mainly from ignorance of the actual circumstances involved. Again,
this is a large question that cannot be pursued in detail here.
But it can be said categorically that while oral literature like all
literature in a sense arises from society and, being oral, has the
extra facet o f often involving more direct interplay between com
poser and audience, nevertheless it is totally misleading to suggest
that individual originality and imagination play no part. T h e exact
form this takes and the exact degree o f the familiar balance be
tween tradition and creativity naturally vary with the culture, the
genre, and the personalities involved. But it will be clear from the
instances in this volume that the m yth attributing all oral litera
ture either to the community alone or, alternatively, to one
particular portion o f it ( the folk) is not true to the facts; and that
the whole picture is much m ore com plex than such sim plified and
speculative assumptions would suggest.
A final point which has, I think, wrongly deterred people from
the recognition o f oral forms as a type o f literature has been the
idea that they have only resulted in trivial formulations without
any depth o f meaning or association. T h is impression has, it is
true, been given by the selection and presentation o f m uch o f the
African verbal art that reaches the public the emphasis on animal
tales and other light-hearted stories (relatively easy to record)
rather than the more elaborate creations o f the specialist poets;
and the common publication o f unannotated texts w hich give the
reader no idea whatsoever o f the social and literary background
w hich lies behind them, let alone the arts o f the performer. Quite
apart from mere problems o f translation, the difficulties o f appre
ciating the art forms o f unfamiliar cultures without help are well
known. W e need only consider to take just one example how
m uch our appreciation of

22

Introduction
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,
So do our minutes hasten to their e n d . . .

depends, among other things, on our knowledge o f the particular

art form used, its whole literary setting, the rhythm , phrasing, and
m usic o f the line, and, not least, on the emotive overtones o f such
familiar w ords as waves', 'm inutes', 'end' which bring us a whole
realm o f associations, sounds, and pictures, all o f w hich can b e said
to form an essential part o f the meaning o f the line. T h is is obvious
but it is often forgotten that exactly the same thing applies in oral
literature:
Grandsire Gyima with a slim but generous arm
(Nana Gyima abasateaa a adaee wo mu)'
is the first line o f an Akan dirge, and seems o f itself to have little
poetic force or meaning. But its significance appears very different
w hen w e know the overtones o f the concept o f generosity, meta
phorically expressed here through the familiar concept o f the dead
man's arm ; the particular style and structure, so pleasing and
acceptable to the audience; th e rhythm and quasi-musical setting
o f the lin e; the familiarity and associations o f the phrasing; the
known fact that this is a m other singing for her dead son whom
she is calling her grandsire* in the verse; and the grief-laden and
emotional atmosphere in w hich these dirges are performed and
received all this makes such a line, and the poem that follows
and builds on it, something fax from trivial to its A kan listeners.
Akan dirges are among the few African literary genres that have
as yet been subject to any full treatment along these lines,2 but
there is reason to suppose that similar discussions o f other genres
would also reveal ample evidence that the charge o f triviality in
oral literature as a whole rests far more on ignorance and un
fam iliarity than on any close acquaintance with the facts.
T h ere is one further problem that should be mentioned here.
T h is is th e difficult question o f how to distinguish in w holly oral
communication between w hat is to count as literature and what is
not. A re w e to include, say, speeches by court elders summing
up cases, an impromptu prayer, non-innovatory genres like some
form ulaic hunting-songs, form al w ords o f welcome, or the dramatic
reporting o f an item o f news?
* Nkeda 1955, pp. 195, 345.

2 Nketia 1955; cf. also Ch. 6 below.

The O ral Nature o f African Unwritten Literature

23

T h is is a real problem to which there is no easy solution. H ow

ever, it has to be said at once that despite first impressions there
is no difference in principle here between written and unwritten
literature. In written forms too there are problems in delimiting
what is truly literature*. It is largely a matter o f opinion, fo r
example, as to whether w e should include science fiction, certain
newspaper articles, or the words o f pqpular songs. Opinions differ,
furthermore, not only between different individuals and different
age and social groups, but at different periods o f history. T h e prob
lem, clearly, is not unique to oral literature.
In considering this question, the criteria used in relation to oral
literature are m uch the same as in the case o f written literature.
First, some cases are clear-cut. T h ese are instances when the
accepted characteristics o f literature 1 are clearly applicable, or
where the African examples are clearly comparable with literary
genres recognized in familiar European cultures. In other words,
once the concept o f an oral literature is allowed, there will be no dis
pute over such cases as panegyric poetry, lyrics for songs, fictional
narratives, or funeral elegies. Other cases are not so dear. Here at
least one criterion must be the evaluation of the particular societies
involved w e cannot assume a priori that their definitions o f
literary will necessarily coincide w ith those o f English culture.
Since the evaluation o f some form as literature is, as we have
seen, a matter o f opinion, it seems reasonable at least to take
seriously the local opinions on this. T h u s when we are told that
among the Ib o oratory . . . calls fo r an original and individual
talent and . . . b d o n gs to a higher order [than folk-tales], this
ought to incline us to consider induding at least some rhetorical
speeches as a part o f Ibo oral literature (although among other
sodeties with less interest in oratory this may not be the case).
Again, proverbs are sometimes locally thought to be as serious and
literary as more lengthy forms and in some cases are even
expanded into long proverb-poems, as with the drum proverbs o f
the Akan. Finally w e have verbal form s that are dearly marginal:
obviously not literature in their- own right, and yet not irrdevant
to literary formulation and composition. W e could instance meta
phorical names, elaborate greeting forms, the serious art of con
versation, and, in some cases, proverbs or rhetoric. A s described
in Chapter 16, these show an appreciation o f the artistic aspect o f
1 See below, p. 24.

*4

Introduction

language and a rich background from w hich more purely literary

forms arise a relationship perhaps particularly obvious in the case
o f oral literature, but not unknown to literate cultures. T h e plan
o f the central portion o f this book1 is to proceed from the clearly
literary* forms through more questionable cases like proverbs
or riddles to the marginally relevant forms like names or w ord
play. There is no one point at which I would draw a definite
dividing line, even though one extreme is clearly literary, the
other not.
Earlier I made the negative point that many o f the assump
tions that seem to set oral forms totally apart from written literature
are in fact questionable or false. T h e same point can be put m ore
positively. Oral literary forms fall within most definitions o f
'literature* (save only for the point about w riting as a medium,
not always included in such definitions), and the problems arising
from most o f these apply to oral as well as to written literary forms.
In other words, though I am not putting forward any one particu
lar definition o f 'literature*, it seems clear that the elements out o f
which such definitions tend, variously, to be constructed are also
recognizable in oral forms, often with exactly the same range o f
ambiguities. T h e basic medium is words though in both cases
this verbal element may be supplemented b y visual or musical
elements. Beyond this, literature, we are often told, is expressive
rather than instrumental, is aesthetic and characterized b y a lack
o f practical purpose a description equally applicable to much oral
art. T h e exploitation o f form, heightening o f style, and interest in
the medium for its own sake as well as for its descriptive function
can clearly be found in oral literary forms. S o too can the idea o f
accepted literary conventions o f style, structure, and genre laid
down by tradition, w hich are followed b y the second-rate and
exploited by the original author. T h e sense in which literature is
set at one remove from reality is another familiar element: this too
is recognizable in oral literature, not m erely in such obvious w ays
as in the use o f fiction, satire, or parable, but also through the very
conventionality o f the literary forms allied to the imaginative
formulation in actual words. I f we prefer to rely on an ostensive
type o f definition and list the kind o f genres we would include
under the heading o f 'literature*, this procedure gives us m any
analogies in oral literature (though w e m ay find that we have to add
1 In particular Parts II and III.

The O ral' Nature o f A frican Unwritten Literature

25

a few not familiar in recent European literature). A m on g African

oral genres, for instance, w e can'find forms analogous to European
elegies, panegyric poetry, lyric, religious poetry, fictional prose,
rhetoric, topical epigram, and perhaps drama. W hichever approach
w e adopt we shall run into some difficulties and unclear cases
in the case o f oral literature the problem o f delim iting literary
from everyday spoken form s is a peculiarly difficult one which I
do not think I have solved successfully here but the point I want
to stress is that these difficulties are fundamentally the same as
those that arise in the study o f any kind o f literature.1
T h is argument tends to the conclusion that there is no good
reason to deny the title o f literature to corresponding African
form s just because they happen to be oral. I f we do treat them as
fundam entally of a different kind, we deny ourselves both a fruitful
analytic approach and, furthermore, a wider perspective on the
general subject o f comparative literature. W e need o f course to
remem ber that oral literature is only one type o f literature, a type
characterized by particular features to do with performance, trans
mission, and social context w ith the various implications these
have for its study. But for all these differences, the view that there
is no essential chasm between this type o f literature and the more
fam iliar written forms is a basic assumption throughout this book.
1 For some further discussion o f the question o f African oral forms as
literature see Whiteley 1964, pp. 4 ff. and references given there.

THE PERCEPTION OF AFRICAN

ORAL LITERATURE
Nineteenth-century approaches and collections. Speculations
and neglect in the twentieth century. Recent trends in
African studies and die revival of interest in oral literature.
A . considerable amount o f w ork has been published on the
subject o f African oral literature in the last century or so. B u t the
facts are scattered and uneven, often buried in inaccessible journals,
and their significance has not been w idely appreciated. T h e popular
im age o f A frica as a land w ithout indigenous literary traditions
retains its h o ld ; even now, it is still sometimes expressed in a form
as crude as that criticized by Burton a century ago:
T h e savage custom of going naked, we are told, 'has denuded
the mind, and destroyed all decorum in the language. Poetry there is
none.. . . There is no metre, no rhyme, nothing that interests or soothes
the feelings, or arrests the passions . . . 1
Even those w ho would imm ediately reject so extreme a view are still
often unconsciously influenced b y fashionable but questionable
assumptions about the nature o f literary activity among non-literate
peoples, w hich determine their attitude to the study o f A frican
oral literature. W e still hear, for instance, o f the savage reliance
on the 'm agical power o f the w ord, o f the communal creation
o f 'folktales w ith no part left fo r th e individual artist, or o f the
deep 'm yth ic consciousness im agined to be characteristic o f non
literate society. A ll in all, there is still the popular myth o f Africa
as a continent either devoid o f literature until contact w ith civilized
nations led to written works in European languages, or possessing
only crude and uninteresting form s not worthy o f systematic study
by the serious literary or sociological student.
In fact, there is a strong indigenous tradition o f both unwritten
1 Burton i86$, p. xii.

The Perception o f African O ral Literature

27

and, in some areas, written literature in A frica.1 T h e oral literature

in particular possesses vastly more aesthetic, social, and personal
significance than would be gathered from most general publica
tions on Africa. Far more, too, has been published on this subject
than is usually realized even by m any o f the students who have
recently taken some interest in the subject. But because much o f
the detailed research this century has been carried out b y indi
viduals working in isolation or, at best, b y various schools o f
researchers out o f touch with the work o f other groups, the subject
as a whole has made little progress over the last generation or so,
whether in consolidating what is already known, in criticizing some
o f the earlier lim iting preconceptions, or in publicizing the results
to date.
T h is introductory chapter traces briefly the history o f the study
o f African oral literature over the last century. T h e purpose o f the
chapter is twofold. First, there have been so many assumptions
and speculations about both Africa and oral literature that it is
necessary to expose these to d ear the w ay for a valid appreciation
o f our present knowledge o f the subject.12 Second, the various
sources we have for the study o f African oral literature need to be
assessed and put in historical perspective. For though there are
for more collections o f African oral art than is usually realized,
they are o f very uneven quality and their usefulness depends on
a knowledge o f the theoretical preconceptions o f the collector.
1
T h e European study o f oral literature in Africa begins about the
middle o f the last century. Th ere had been a few isolated efforts
before then, notably Rogers retelling o f W olof fables from Senegal
(1828) and an increasing awareness o f the written Arabic tradition.
B ut until the m id- century there was no available evidence to refute
the popular European image o f Africa as totally without literary
pretensions. B y about the 1850s the position changed. African
linguistic studies were emerging as a specialist and scholarly field,
1 Written literature, mainly on Arabic models, is further mentioned in Ch. 3,
pp. 49 ff.; cf. also Ch. 7, pp. 168 ff.
2 For more detailed accounts of the study of oral literature in general (usually
under the name of 'folklore') see Thompson 1946; Jacobs 1966; A. H. Krappe,
The Science o f Folk-lore, London, 1930; R. M . Dorson, The Britith FolkloritU,
vol..i, London, 1968; and the more general essays in von Sydow 1948.

28

Introduction

and this in turn led to a fuller appreciation o f the interest and

subtleties o f African languages. T h e main m otive o f many o f these
linguistic studies was to aid the evangelization o f Africa, and
grammars, vocabularies, and collections o f texts appeared b y and
for missionaries. T h ere was close collaboration between linguists
and missionaries, and many o f the great collections o f texts in the
nineteenth century were a result o f professional or amateur linguists
working in full sympathy with the missionary movement and pub
lished under its auspices.1 A further stimulus was the general
interest in comparative studies. T h is w as revealed not only in
linguistic work and in the comparative analysis o f social and poli
tical institutions, but also in the field o f literature: in the school o f
comparative mythology and in the impetus to collection arising
from the publications o f the Grim m brothers in Germany.
T h e result o f these various influences was the publication o f many
lengthy collections o f African texts and translations in the second
half o f the nineteenth century.2 These contain narratives o f various
kinds (including stories about both animals and humans), historical
texts, proverbs, riddles, vernacular texts describing local customs,
sometimes additional vernacular compositions by the collector,
and very occasionally songs or poems. T h ere is o f course some
variation in size and quality, but b y and large these editions com
pare favourably with many more recent publications. M ost include
complete texts in the vernacular w ith a facing translation usually
into English or German, and occasionally a commentary (most often
linguistic).
T h e main emphasis in these collections was, it is true, linguistic
(or, in some cases, religio-educational, preoccupied with w hat it
was thought fitting for children to know). T h ere was little attem pt
to relate the texts to their social context, eludicate their literary
significance, or describe the normal circumstances o f their recita
tion. There are many questions, therefore, w hich these texts cannot
1 On this period see Curtin 1965, pp. 392 ff.; Greenburg 1965, pp. 432 ff.
1 e.g. Casalis 1841 (Sotho). Koelie 1854 (Kanuri), Schlenker 1861 (Temne),
Burton 1865 (are-publication of the collections o f others), Bleek i864(Hottentot),
Callaway 1868 (Zulu), Steere 1870 (Swahili), Christaller 1879 (Twi), BirengerFraud 1885 (Senegambia), Schdn 1885 (Hausa), Theal 1886 (Xhosa), Jacottet
1895, 1908 (Sotho), Taylor 1891 (Swahili), C. G . Bilttner, Anthologie atu dir
Suaheli-Litteratur, i vols., Berlin, 1894, Chatelain 1894 (Kimbundu), Juncd
i897(Ronga), Dennett 1898 (Fjort), Velten 1907 (Swahili). For further references
to works currently considered relevant, see introductions to Chatelain 1894,
Jaconet i9o8;.olso Seidel 1896, Basset 1903.

The Perception o f A frican O ral Literature

29

answer. Nevertheless, the very size o f many o f these collections,

presenting a corpus o f literature from a single people, often throws
m ore light on the current literary conventions among a given people
than all the odd bits and pieces w hich it became so fashionable to
publish later. And the linguistic and missionary m otive was not
alw ays'so narrow as to exclude all interest in the w ider relevance
o f these collections. A number o f scholars noted the connections
between their work and the progress in comparative studies in
Europe. Blcek, for instance, significantly entitles his collection of
Hottentot stories Reynard the F o x in South A frica, to bring out
the parallelism between A frican and European tales. Although at
first some people refused to believe that tales o f such striking
similarity to European folk-stories and fairy-tales could really be
indigenous to Africa, this similarity o f content gradually became
accepted. B y the end o f the century, Chatelain could assert with
confidence in his authoritative survey that many m yths, characters,
and incidents known elsewhere also occur in A frican narratives,
and that African folklore is thus a branch o f one universal tree.1
T h e cultural implications o f these collections w ere not lost on
their editors. There w as a general recognition, often accompanied
b y some slight air o f surprise, that the negro too was capable of
producing works which manifested depth o f feeling and artistry
and showed him to be human in the fullest sense o f the word. Both
the climate o f opinion to w hich he felt he had to address himself
and his own conclusions on the basis o f his study o f the language
come out clearly in the preface to the early work b y Koelle, African
N ative Literature, or Proverbs, Tales, Fables and H istorical Frag
ments in the Kanuri or Bom u Language, published in 1854. It is
illuminating to quote this eloquent and early statement at some
length:
It is hoped that the publication of these first specimens of a Kanuri
literature will prove useful in more than one way. Independently of the
advantages it offers for a practical acquaintance with the language, it
also introduces the reader, to some extent, into the inward world of
Negro mind and Negro thoughts, and this is a circumstance of para
mount importance, so long as there are any who either flatly negative
the question, or, at least, consider it still open, whether the Negroes are
a genuine portion of mankind or not. It is vain to speculate on this
1 Chatelain 1894, p. 20. Chntelains introduction gives an excellent summary
o f the publications and conclusions on African oral literature to that date.
8151SM

Introduction

question from mere anatomical facts, from peculiarities of the hair, or

the colour of the skin: if it is mind that distinguishes man from animals,
the question cannot be decided without consulting the languages of the
Negroes; for language gives the expression and manifestation of the mind.
Now as the Grammar proves that Negro languages are capable of ex
pressing human thoughts, some o f them, through their rich formal
development, even with an astonishing precision so specimens like
the following Native Literature show that the Negroes actually have
thoughts to express, that they reflect and reason about things just as
other men. Considered in such a point o f view, these specimens may
go a long way towards refuting the old-fashioned doctrine o f an essential
inequality o f the Negroes with the rest of mankind, which now and then
still shows itself not only in America but also in Europe.1
B y the end o f the century the same point could be stated more
dogmatically and succinctly; as Seidel has it in his description of
the im pact o f African oral literature, U nd alle sahen m it Erstaunen,
daB der N eger denkt und fuhlt, w ie w ir selbst denkenund fuhlen ;*
but the point has been made and often with a similar air o f dis
covery at intervals ever since.3
T h e appreciation o f the cultural relevance o f the collected texts
was taken further by the em erging tradition that a general study
o f any A frican people could.suitably include a section on their
unwritten literature. Even in the nineteenth century some general
volum es appeared in w hich the literary creations o f African peoples
were set in the context o f their life in general.4
O ne o f the striking contributions o f these early collectors
missionaries, linguists, ethnographers is the frequent recognition
that the texts they recorded could be truly regarded as a type o f
literature, fundamentally analogous to the written fiction, history,
and poetry o f European nations. T h is point is worth making. Re
cent scholars o f the subject too often give the impression that
they are th e first to recognize the true nature o f these texts as
literature (although it must indeed be admitted that not only has
it been difficult for this approach to gain popular acceptance, but
* Koelle 1854, pp. vi-vii.
* Seidel 1896, p. 3.
See e.g. McLaren 1917 ('how human the Bantu peoples arel, p. 332);
Smith and Dale ii, 1920 ('mans common human-heartedness is in these tales. . .
across the abysses we can clasp handa in a comAon humanity, p. 34s); Junod
>938 ('proof that the Umuntu has a soul, and that under his black skin beats a
genuine human heart . . p. 57; cf. p. 83); etc.
* e.g. Macdonald 1882 (Yao), Ellis, 1890 (Ewe) 1894 (Yoruba).

The Perception o f African O ra l Literature

31

for much of this century it has for various reasons been overlooked
b y professional students o f Africa). M a n y o f those working in this
field in the nineteenth century,- however, were quite clear on the
p o in t T h e term literature appears in the titles o f books or sections,1
and Chatelain expressed a fairly common attitude among collectors
w hen he stressed the importance o f studying their unwritten, oral
literature.2 O ne o f the earliest clear statements is that o f Bleek in
the preface to his famous collection o f Namaqa Hottentot tales.
Th ese fables, he writes, form
[an] extensive . . . mass of traditionary Native literature amongst the
Namaqa. . . . T h e fact o f such a literary capacity existing among a
nation whose mental qualifications it has been usual to estimate at the
lowest standard, is of the greatest importance; and that their literary
activity. . . has been employed almost in the same direction as that which
had been taken by our own earliest literature, is in itself o f great sig
nificance.3
B y the end o f th e century, then, th e subject was fairly well
recognized b y a lim ited group o f scholars. A certain amount had
been both recorded and published in special collections, in
general surveys o f particular peoples, and as appendices and
illustrations in grammatical works. T h o u gh few were working in
this field, they tended to be in touch and to be aware o f each others
research, so that b y the 1890s serious comparative and general
accounts could b e produced, drawing on the published works o f
others.4 I t is true that a certain air o f condescension was at times
discernible; but this attitude in fact often seems less noticeable in
these nineteenth-century sources than in many produced later.
Th ere was a general appreciation o f the cultural implications o f the
studies: the fact that A frica could no longer be treated as an area
totally without its own cultural traditions, that these could be
looked at comparatively in the context o f European as well as o f
African studies, and, finally, that the texts recorded b y linguists,
missionaries, and others could be treated as at least analogous to
parallel written form s. Needless to say, this more liberal approach
* e.g. Koelle 1854; Macdonald 1883, i, ch. 2 and pp. 47-57.
* Chatelain 1894, P- 16. C f. also Burton 1865, pp. x iiff.; M . Kingsley in
introduction to Dennett 1898, p. ix; Seidel 1896 (introduction); Cronise and
Word 1903, P- 4 1 Bleek 1864, pp. xii-xiii.
* e.g. Chatelains introductory sections in 1894 and Seidels general survey
in 1896. Cf. also Jacottet 1908 (introduction).

32

Introduction

met with little popular recognition. T h e works were obscurely

published and intended for specialist reading, and perhaps even
more important the common m yth that saw the African as un*
cultivated and un-literary was too firm ly established to allow for
easy demolition.1 But at least among a small group of scholars, in
particular the German and English linguists, there was a sense that
the subject had been established as one w orthy o f study and one
which had even made a certain amount o f progress.
This serious interest was consolidated b y the group of- German
scholars working together towards the end o f the nineteenth and
during the first decades o f the twenthieth century and also, to a
lesser extent, later. Linguistic studies were considered to include
African languages, and a series o f specialist journals were published,
some short-lived, others still continuing today, in which systematic
work on various aspects o f African languages, including oral litera
ture, appeared.2 University chairs were established in Bantu or
African languages (at Ham burg and Berlin) before any similar ap
pointments in the English-speaking academic w orld.1 T h e linguistic
interests of these scholars were by no means strictly limited to
grammatical or syntactical analysis, but included both the record
ing o f literary texts and a general appreciation o f African literature
as a suitable object o f scholarship. Com parative surveys appeared
which, though in some respects dated, are still among the best
available.4 Drawing on the various published sources for A frican
texts (both large and small), the authors called attention to the
literary status o f many o f them, and pointed not only to the ob
vious prose forms recorded from Africa but also a far less com
mon recognition even now to the various categories o f poetry.
Seidel, for instance, lists love songs, satirical songs, war songs,
epic, dirges, religious songs, and didactic poems as among African
* See Curtin 1965, p. 397.
* Zeitschrift f i r afrikanische Sprachen (Berlin, 1887-90), edited by C . G .
BUttner; Zeitschrift fSr afrikanische urtd oceamsche Sprachen (Berlin, 1895-1903),
edited by A. Seidel; Zeitschrift fur Kotonial-Sprachen (Berlin), founded in 1910
and, under its present title o f Afriha und Vbersee, still in continuation (at some
periods entitled Zeitschrift fUr Eingebarenen-Sprachen). Material on African
literature is also included in Mitteihsngen des Seminarsfu r orientalische Sprachen
ssu Berlin (1898-), ZeitschfritfUr Ethnologie (Berlin, 1869-), and Antkropos (Salz
burg, Vienna, and Fribourg, 1906-); cf. also Mitteilungen des Institutef& Orientforschung (Berlin, 1953-).
* Pointed out by McLaren 1917, p. 330.
4 Especially Seidel 1896, Meinhof 1911.

The Perception o f African O ral Literature

33

literary forms, and even makes some attempt to discuss their

form al structure.1 T o this general recognition o f the subject was
added a tradition o f systematic empirical research. T h e extension
o f the Germ an empire further stimulated the interest in African
studies, and many texts were recorded and analysed b y scholars
publishing in German, above all in the areas under G erm an rule
South-W est Africa, Germ an East Africa (covering Tanganyika
and Ruanda-Urundi), K am erun, and T o g o .2 Between them these
collectors recorded or discussed such forms as prose narratives,
proverbs, riddles, names, drum literature, and, more unusually in
th e subject as a whole, different kinds of poems and songs, some
times accompanied by the recording and analysis o f the music, in
keeping w ith the early G erm an interest in ethnom usicology.3
A s far as the sheer provision o f basic sources goes, these German
collections are among the m ost valuable, and their number and
quality seem surprisingly underestimated b y recent English-speak
ing writers. Even though their interests were prim arily linguistic,
and more purely literary or social aspects were little pursued, they
established the subject as one worthy o f serious study (thus de
m anding systematic empirical research) and recognized that the
texts they recorded were a form o f literature.
In the first couple o f decades o f this century the study o f African
1 Op. cit., pp. 8 ff.
1 See, among many others, C. G . BUttner, 'Marchen der Herero , Z A S 1888;
B. Gutmann 1914, 1928; also Dichten und Dtnken der Dschagganeger, Leipzig,
1909, and 'GruOlieder der Wadschagga, Festschrift Meinhof, Gluckstadt, 1927,
etc.; A. Seidel, Sprichworter der Wa-Bondei in Deutsch-Ostafrika', Z A O S 4,
1898; 5, 1900, etc.; E. von H om bostel,'Wanyamwezi-Gesange, Anthropos 4,
1909; H. Fuchs, Sagen, Mythen und Sitten der Masai, Jena, >910; E. Bufe, Die
Poesie der Duala-Neger in Kamerun, Archiv fur Anthropologie 13. 1, 1914;
P. Hecklinger, Dualasprichworter, Z E S n , 1920/1; F. Ebding, DualarStsel
aus Kamerun, M S O S 14. 3, 1911; Duala-Miirchen , M itt. Ausland-Hochtehule 41. 3, 1938 (not seen); and, with J. Ittmann, Religiose Ges&nge aus dem
ndrdlichen Waldland von Kamerun , A fr. u Vbersee 39, 1953; 4i 1956; C. J.
Bender, Die Volksdichtung der Wakweli, Z E S, Beiheft 4 (not seen); P. A.
W itte 1906, etc. (Ewe); C. Spicss, Bedeutung der Personennamen der EtveNeger , Archiv fUr Anthropologie 16, 1918, and Fabeln Uber die Spinne bei
den Ewe, M S O S 2i. 3, 1918; 22. 3, 1919; G . HBrtter, 'Aus der Volkslitteratur
der Evheer in Togo, Z A O S 6, 1902. German scholars also worked on Hausa
and Kanuri in Northern Nigeria, e.g. R. Prictze 1904,1916a, 19166,1917,1918,
1927, 1931 (Hausa), 1914 (Kanuri), also Bomusprichworter, M S O S 18. 3,
1915; Bomu-Texte, M S O S 33. 3. *93; J. Lukas 1937 (Kanuri), also Aus der
Literatur der Bddawi-Kandri in Bom u, Z E S 26, 1935. See also some of the
collections mentioned above, p. 28.
> See discussion of this school in Nettl 1956, ch. 3.

34

Introduction

oral literature could in some ways be said to have reached its peak
as a recognized and closely studied academic subject. T h en Germ an
interest in Africa waned w ith the loss o f their imperial interests;
a num ber o f valuable studies continued to be made b y German
writers and to appear in scholarly German journals,1 but there was
no longer the same stimulus to research and the solid foundations
laid earlier were hardly built upon. T o some extent the place o f the
Germ ans was taken by the South African linguistic school, where
there is a strong tradition o f informed research in a w ide sense;2
and W erner's work in England also resulted in some contact being
kept between the Germ an linguistic tradition and the very much
weaker English school.* B ut in general German linguists became
isolated from the French and English professional scholars who
w ere now com ing to the fore in African studies, concentrating
more on aspects o f social institutions than on linguistic matters.
M uch o f the earlier ground was therefore lost, and until very
recently the study o f African oral literature has been relatively
neglected as a subject o f research in its own right.
n
Various factors have contributed to the relative lack o f interest
in oral literature in this century. T o understand these, it is neces
sary to include some account o f the history o f anthropology, for
1 e.g. the work by Ittmann and Ebding on Duala and other Cameroons
languages, or Dammann on Swahili; cf. also the rather different series of
publications by Frobenius 1921-8.
1 Cf. the early university recognition o f African languages and Bantu studies
generally, and in particular the influence of C. M. Doke, famous both as
linguist and as collector and analyst of oral literature. The South African journal
Bantu Studies, later entitled African Studies (Johannesburg 1921-), is one of
the best sources for scholarly and well-informed articles in English on oral
literature (mainly but not exclusively that o f southern Africa). On the contribu
tion o f South African universities to linguistic studies see Doke in Bantu Studies
7 , 1933 , pp. a6-8.
* T ill recently, not very developed in England, especially as concerns the oral
literature aspect. T he School of Oriental Studies (later Oriental and African
Studies) o f die University of London, founded in 1916, was the main centre of
what African linguistic studies there were, but in the early years the African
side was little stressed. Some o f the better o f the articles on African oral litera
ture produced in England in the first half o f this century have tended to appear
in the Bulletin of this, school (e.g. Green 1948), but, in spite of some work by
missionaries (e.g. by U M C A on Swahili), the intensity of research was less than
in the earlier period in Germany.

The Perception o f African O ral Literature

35

during much o f the first h alf o f the twentieth century it was

anthropologists w ho tended to monopolize the professional study
o f African institutions and culture. T h e various assumptions o f
anthropology in this period both directed research into particular
fields and also dictated the selection o f texts and the particular
form in which they were to be recorded.
A number o f the theories that held sway at this time were almost
fatal to the serious study o f oral literature. T h is so far had for
tunately been free from over-speculative theorizing, for in spite o f
the dominance in some circles of M ullers particular theories o f
comparative m ythology, they seem to have had little effect on
studies in the field; the general interest in comparison had thus
acted more as a stimulus than as a strait jacket. But the rise first
o f the evolutionist and diffusionist schools and later o f the British
structural-functional approach resulted in certain definite limita
tions being placed on the study o f oral art.1
T h e evolutionist approach to the study o f society, so influential
in the later nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, was a com
plex movement that took many different forms. Its central tenets,
however, were clear. T h ey included the belief in the concept o f
unilinear and parallel stages o f social and cultural evolution
through w hich all societies must pass; a concentration on the
origins o f any institution as being o f the first importance; and,
finally, the im plicit and evaluative assumption that the direction
o f evolution w as upwards a progress from the crude communal
stage o f prim itive life towards the civilized and differentiated
culture of contemporary Europe. Speculative pseudo-history and
totally unverified assumption were asserted as proven fact. M any
generalizations too were authoritatively pronounced about how
primitive man m ust have felt or probably imagined, which drew
on little more evidence than the writers own introspection or his
belief that what he most valued in his own, civilized, society were
ju st those elements surely lacking in primitive life. Primitive,
furthermore, w as interpreted to mean both early in history (or
prehistory) and low and undeveloped generally in the scale o f
evolution. T h e stage of development attained b y non-literate
peoples could thus be equated and evaluated as the same as that
once traversed b y the prehistoric ancestors o f European nations.
> For a fuller discussion of the effect o f these theories On the interpretation of
prose narratives, see Ch. 12.

36

Introduction

This approach clearly has implications for the study o f oral

literature and in the early twentieth century these were increasingly
explored, mainly by scholars writing in England.1 T h e concentra
tion was on the idea o f origins and evolution: questions asked (and
confidently answered) concerned w hich type o f literature came
first in the prehistory o f man, the survivals into the present o f
more primitive stages o f life and culture in the form o f folk
literature* or folk-lore*, and the supposed nature o f the early
primitive stage, still allegedly that o f present-day savages.
Current preconceptions about the nature both o f oral literature
and of primitive society could be fitted into this conceptual fram e
work. Such literature was, for instance, supposed to be the work
o f communal consciousness and group authorship rather than, as
in civilized communities, o f an individual inspired artist; it was
handed down word for word from the dim before-time or far
back ages, for no individual creativity or imagination could be
expected of primitive peoples; it was basically similar among all
peoples at the same stage o f evolution, so that one could generalize
about, say, the primitive or the African without having to con
sider the particular history or culture o f a given area, much less
the individual composer; and finally, although it might ultimately
evolve into something higher, at the moment such oral literature
was radically different from that o f higher civilizations with their
emphasis on originality, innovation, and the written word. T h e
exact stage assigned to various non-literate peoples varied, but
there was general agreement that most African peoples belonged
to an early and low stage, and that their art, i f any, would be corre
spondingly primitive. T h e y were variously described as dominated
b y the idea o f magic, by totemism, or b y their failure to dis
tinguish between themselves and the animal world round them.
A nd all these ideas could be presumed to come out in their oral
literature or folk-lore.
These theories were not in fact often applied in detail to African
1 e.g. the general works by J. A'. MacCulloch {The Childhood of Fiction: a
Study of Folk Tales and Primitive Thought, London, 1905), G. L. Goinme
{Folklore as an Historical Science, London, 1908), A. S. Mackenzie {The
Evolution of Literature, London, 1911 quite a perceptive account, in spite of
its evolutionist framework, including some treatment of African oral literature),
E. S. Hartland {The Science of Fairy Tales, London, 1891), J. G. Frazer {Folk
lore in the O ld Testament, London, 1918), and (in some respects a later survival
o f evolutionist assumptions) Bowra 1962. Though the detailed theories differ
considerably, all share the same basically evolutionist approach.

The Perception o f A frican O ral Literature

37

oral literature. Nevertheless, they had a direct effect on its study.

First, the evolutionist m ovem ent gave an apparently 'scientific'
validation to certain current prejudices about the nature o f oral
art w hich naturally affected the attitude o f those working in the
field (and has to some extent continued to do so, particularly
among those with little first-hand knowledge o f unwritten litera
ture).1 It has also dictated the selection o f oral literature recorded
or th e kind o f interpretation thought suitable. Because such oral
literature was communal, for instance, variant form s were not
recorded or looked for and no questions were raised about indi
vidual authorship, which was presumed not to exist. Because items
o f oral literature could also be regarded as 'survivals o f yet more
prim itive stages, an acceptable interpretation w ould be in terms
o f hypothetical earlier customs, such as primitive m atriarchy' or
totem ism , rather than o f its literary effectiveness or acceptability.
Because primitive tribes were supposed to be preoccupied with
tradition rather than innovation, 'traditional' tales w ere sought
and new ones ignored or explained away. Because interest was
focused on broad evolutionary stages, few questions w ere asked
about the idiosyncratic history, culture, or literary conventions
o f a particular people. F inally because origins and early history
assumed such importance in peoples minds, there was little
emphasis on the contemporary relevance o f a piece o f literature, so
there seemed every excuse for collecting and publishing bits and
pieces without attempting to relate them to their particular social
and literary context. T h e interest o f anthropologists was turned
away from the systematic collection or analysis o f detailed literary
texts and concentrated on generalized theory.
T h e main outlines and many o f the details o f this approach are
now rejected by the majority o f professional anthropologists as
either false or unproven. But as it was not just a matter o f esoteric
academic interest but a reflection and apparent validation o f many
popular views, its rejection by professionals by no means implies
the end o f its influence. M an y o f these assumptions can still be
found in the writings o f non-anthropologists, in particular among
some o f the self-styled English folklorists. T h e y have also been
1 And not just those. See, for example, the contradictions Cope runs into in
his otherwise excellent treatment of Zulu praise poetry because of his assump
tion (undiscussed) that traditional literature' must be due to 'communal activity
(compare pp. 24 and 33, also pp. 53-4, in Cope 1968).

38

Introduction

lent apparent support by the actual selection and treatment o f

sources presented to the public.
B y th e 1930s anthropologists w ere turning to m ore empirical
and first-hand studies o f A frican societies, with the consequent
promise o f more systematic collection o f oral literature. T h e socalled structural-functional school o f British anthropology, asso
ciated in its most rigid form w ith the name o f Radcliffe-Brown,
concentrated on function, in particular on the function o f stabiliz
ing or validating the current order o f things. This approach was
naturally applied to literature as to other social data. T h e idea that
certain types o f oral literature could have a utilitarian role was, o f
course, not n e w ;1 nor was the related but more extreme hypothesis
that, in contrast to t h e idea o f art for arts sake* supposedly
characteristic o f civilized nations, the oral literatures o f Africa
had a severely practical rather than aesthetic aim. B ut, while
chim ing in with these notions, structural-functional anthropology
took a particular form o f its ow n. Its central theoretical interest
was, at root, the functional integration and maintenance o f society:
and items o f oral literature w ere regarded as relevant only in so
far as they could be fitted into th is framework.
T h e fact that this approach has till recently held sw ay among
British anthropologists those w ho in other spheres have made the
greatest contribution to the em pirical study o f African institutions
has several implications for the study o f oral literature. M ost
important is the implicit assumption that oral literature is not
w orthy o f study as a subject in its own right and that it can b e .
ignored except for passing references w hich fit in with a particular
interpretation o f society. T h e result is that over the last generation
or so practically no collections or analyses o f oral literature have
been made b y British scholars. W h en oral literature was mentioned,
the fashion was to play down the aesthetic aspect in favour o f the
functional and to stress traditional, material even to the extent
o f sometimes refusing to record anything that seemed to smack o f
innovation. Prose narrative was m ore often referred to than sung
poetry, since it was easier-to make a quick record o f it and since it
was more suitable, particularly in the form o f myths, fo r use in
functional analysis. Altogether th e emphasis was on b rief synopsis
or paraphrase rather than a detailed recording o f literary form s as
actually delivered. T h e well-known British tradition o f em pirical
* e.g, A. Van Gennep, La Formation det Ugendet, Paris, 1910.

The Perception o f African O ra l Literature

39

and painstaking field w ork in Africa has therefore borne little fruit
in the field o f oral literature. And the dominance o f this functional
approach, following on the more speculative evolutionist frame
work o f earlier years, helps to explain w hy the study o f oral
literature has made so little progress in this century.
T h e interest in diffusion the geographical spread o f items o f
material and non-material culture has also had its repercussions.
In both the nineteenth and the twentieth centuries, curiosity about
the geographical origin and subsequent history o f particular stories
encountered in different parts of the world has been considerable.
T h is has been most specifically expressed in the Scandinavian or
historical-geographical school of folklore, which for much o f
this century has been trying to discover the life history o f stories
o f various kinds, b y means of systematic classification and an
elaborate indexing o f comparative references.1 T h is approach is
also prevalent in Am erica, where it has to some extent blended
w ith the less ambitious and more liberal diffusionist approaches
pioneered b y Boas and his followers.2 I t has had relatively few
adherents in Britain, largely because o f the dominance o f the
theories ju st described, but it has had some wider influence
tlirough its association with the international folklore move
ment.3
T h e main consequence o f these diffusionist approaches was the
focusing o f interest on the subject-matter o f oral literature for it
is this that must be considered when attempting to trace its
historical and geographical diffusion.4 Detailed investigations o f
the actual social and literary role o f forms o f oral literature in
1 See Thompson 1955-8 for the best-known general reference work and, for
African material, Klipple 1938 and Clarice 1958. Detailed comparative analyses
of particular motifs or plots from African materials, mainly published in Uppsala
(Studia ethnographies Upsaliensia), include H . Abrahamsson, The Origin of
Death: Studies in African Mythology, Uppsala, (951; H. Tegnaeus, L e Htros
eivilisateur, Uppsala, 1950; . Dammann, Die Urzeit in afrikanischen
Verschlingemythen , Fabula [Berlin] 4, 1961. Cf. also the South African branch
o f this school, e.g. S. C. Hattingh, DieTeer-popsprokie in Afrika', Tydskrif vir
10Ikskunde en volkstaal (Johannesburg) 1. 1, 1944 (A A 5. 356); Mofokeng
I 95 S1 Cf. Boass early works on (mainly American-Indian) oral literature, and
more recent work relevant to Africa by Herskovits (1936 and 1958) and Bascom
(1964, etc.). Some of the best collections of African literature have been pub
lished by the American Folk-lore Society (Chatelain 1894, Doke 1937).
1 Cf. Thompson 1946, pp. 396 IF.
4 Cf. the excellent critical accounts o f this approach in von Sydow 1948,
M . Jacobs 1966.

4<>

Introduction

particular cultures were thus not called for. Similarly there was
no onus on collectors to provide laborious and detailed transcriptions
when all that was needed was a synopsis o f the content: unskilled
assistants could be employed to write down texts and summaries.
T h e emphasis was naturally on prose tales whose motifs could be
traced, and once again attention was focused away from poetry.
A s a result o f these varied theories there was a turning away
from the more systematic and empirical foundations laid earlier
in the century towards a more limited approach to the subject.
Different as the theories are in other respects, they all share the
characteristics of playing down interest in the detailed study o f
particular oral literatures and, where such forms arc not ignored
altogether, emphasize the bare outline o f content without reference
to the more subtle literary and personal qualities. In many cases,
the main stress is on the traditional and supposed static forms,
above all on prose rather than poetry. T h e detailed and systematic
study o f oral literature in its social and literary context has thus
languished for much o f this century.
T h is is not to say that there were no worthwhile studies made
during this period. A number o f gifted writers have produced
valuable studies, often the fruit of long contacts with a particular
culture and area,1 and many short reports have appeared in various
local journals. But with the exception o f a handful o f Am erican
scholars and of the well-founded South African school,* most
of these writers tended to work in isolation, their work not fu lly
appreciated by scholars.
Another apparent exception to this general lack o f concern w ith
oral literature was the French interest associated with the nigritude
movement and the journal (and later publishing-house) Prisence
africaine.3 But this, though profoundly important in influencing
general attitudes to African art, was primarily a literary and quasi
political movement rather than a stimulus to exact recording or
1 e.g. Equilbecq 1913-16, Junod 1912-13, Smith and Dale 1920, Rattray 1930,
etc., Green 1948, Carrington 19496, etc., Verger 1957. Cf. also the mammoth
general survey by the Chadwicks (1932-40).
* See particularly the many publications o f Doke, and a series o f valuable
articles in Bantu Studies (later African Studies); there are also a number o f as
yet unpublished theses (especially Mofokeng 1955).
1 Paris, 1947-; cf. also many articles in Black Orpheus and some in the
various IFAN journals; Senghor 1951, etc.; and generalized descriptions such
as that in J. Jahn, Muntu, an Outline of Neo-African Culture (Eng. tr.), London,
1961, ch. 5.

The Perception o f African O ral Literature

41

analysis. It rests on a m ystique o f black culture, and a rather

glamorized and general vi,ew is put forward o f the moral value or
literary and psychological depth o f both African traditional litera
ture and its contemporary counterparts in w ritten form. Thus,
though a few excellent accounts have been elicited under the
auspices o f this movement, mainly b y local A frican scholars,1
m any o f its publications are somewhat undependable as detailed
contributions to the study o f oral literature. Its romanticizing
attitudes apart, however, this school has had the excellent effect
o f drawing interest back to the literary significance o f these forms
(including, this time, poetry). But it cannot be said that this
interest did very much to reverse the general trend away from the
recognition o f African oral literature as a serious field o f scholar
ship.
hi

B y the late 1950s and 1960s, however, the situation started to

change. There was a rapidly increasing interest in African studies
as a whole, expressed both in the recognition o f A frica as a worth
w hile field o f academic study and in a marked proliferation of
professional scholars concerned with different aspects o f African
life. W ork became increasingly specialist. W ith the new boom in
A frican studies, those who before were working in an isolated and
lim ited way, or in only a local or amateur context, found their work
gradually recognized. Som e o f the earlier work was taken up again,2
and the interests o f certain professional students o f A frica widened
not least those of British anthropologists, w ho for long had held
a near monopoly in A frican studies but who w ere now turning to
previously neglected fields. T h e result has been some renewal of
interest in African oral literature, though unlike most branches
o f African studies it can hardly yet be said to have become con
solidated as a systematic field o f research.
T o mention all the contributory streams in the present in
creasing interest in A frican verbal art would be tedious and
nearly impossible. B ut certain o f the main m ovements are worth
1 e.g. A. Hampat Ba (Bnmbara and Fulani), G. Adali-Mortti (Ewe), La$ebikan(Yoruba), perhaps A. Kagame (Ruanda); cf. also the more general accounts
by Colin 1957, Traori 1958.
1 Notably the Chadwicks great comparative study o f oral literature which
had previously had surprisingly little impact on African studies.

42

Introduction

m entioning, not least because each tends to have its own pre
conceptions and methods o f research, and because in several cases
groups are out o f touch with others working on the same basic
subject from a different viewpoint.
T h e musicologists represent a very different approach from all
those mentioned previously. T h o u gh their primary interest is, o f
course, musical, this involves the recording and study o f in
numerable songs that is, from another point o f view, o f poetry.
It is true that the words o f songs are not always recorded or pub
lished w ith the same meticulous care as the music itself. B ut in
a num ber o f cases the words do appear, and this approach has had
the invaluable effect o f drawing attention to the significance o f
poetic form s so neglected in m ost other approaches. T h e musicolo
gists furthermore have provided a much needed corrective to
earlier emphases on the-traditional rather than the new and topical,
b y giving some idea o f the great num ber o f ephemeral and popular
songs on themes o f current interest. T h e African M u sic Society in
particular, centred in Johannesburg, has built up a systematic and
scholarly b ody o f knowledge o f African music, mainly that o f
southern and central Africa but with interests throughout the
continent. Its main stimulus has come from Tracey, who has taken
an interest in oral art as well as m usic for many years,1 but its
activities are now finding a w ider audience not least through its
issue o f large numbers o f records in the M usic o f A frica series.*
Altogether it can be said that the musicologists, and above all the
A frican M u sic Society, have done more both to co-ordinate
scientific study and to publicize the results in the field o f sung
oral literature than any other group in this century.
A nother significant contribution is that made b y a small group
o f Am erican anthropologists working closely together, and pub
lishing m uch o f their work in the Journal o f American Folklore, an
academic publication which has taken an increasing interest in
A frica in recent years.3 T h ere has always been a tradition o f
1 e.g. Tracey 1929, 1933. 19486. etc.
* See its journal, African Music (1954-), and the earlier Newsletter (1948-);
a library o f African music has been built up in Johannesburg; cf. also the
work o f such scholars as Rhodes and Merriam, and various publications in the
journal Ethnomusicology. Other musicologists less closely associated with this
school but carrying out similar studies include A. M . Jones, Rouget, Nketia,
Blacking, Belinga, Carrington, Rycroft, WacHsmann, and Zemp.
* Some of their work also appears in the main anthropological journals in
America.

The Perception o f African O ral Literature

43

serious interest in oral literature among American anthropologists,1

unlike the British, but this has recently gained further momentum
and there are now a number o f American scholars engaged in the
serious study o f A frican oral art.2 T h eir main field o f interest is the
southerly part o f W est Africa and th ey seem to have less ac
quaintance with the work, say, o f the South African school; but
their general aspiration is to establish the study o f oral literature
over the continent as a whole. T h is group has to some extent been
influenced b y the contributions o f the historical-geographical
school, but takes a w ider approach and, consonant with its
anthropological interests, is concerned not only to record oral
art (including poetry) but also to relate it to its social context
rather than just analyse and classify the types and motifs o f narra
tive. T h ey point out the importance o f considering individual
inspiration and originality as well at the traditional tribal
conventions, the role o f poet and audience as well as subject
matter. Though they have not always managed to pursue these
topics very far in practice, the points they make about the direc
tion o f further research are so valid and, at the same time, so
unusual in the study o f African oral literature that this group
assumes an importance in the subject out o f all proportion to its
size.
Some o f the most original work has come from the growing
numbers o f Africans carrying out scholarly analyses o f oral litera
ture in their own languages. These writers have been able to draw
attention to many aspects which earlier students tended to overlook
either because o f their theoretical preconceptions or because they
were, after all, strangers to the culture they studied. W riters like
Kagam e on Rwanda poetry, Babalola on Yoruba hunters songs, or,
outstanding in the field, Nketia on many branches o f Akan music
and literature, have been able to explore the overtones and imagery
that play so significant a part in their literature and to add depth
through their descriptions o f the social and literary context. T h e y
1 e.g. the well-known work o f anthropologists like Boas, Benedict, or Reichard
(mainly on'American Indian peoples), and. more recently Herskovits on Africa
and elsewhere. See also the general discussion in Greenway 1964.
1 See especially the bibliographic and other survey articles by Bascom, who
is probably doing more than any other single scholar at the present to consolidate
the subject as a recognized branch of scholarship, e.g. Bascom 1964, 1965a,
19656; cf. also Herskovits 1958, 1961,. etc.; Messenger 1959, 1960, 1962;
Simmons 1958, 1960a, etc. Berry's useful survey of West African spoken art
(1961) draws largely on the findings o f this group.

44

Introduction

have been among the few scholars to pay serious and detailed
attention to the role o f the poet, singer, or narrator himself. N ot
all such writers, it is true, have been saved even by their close
intimacy w ith language and culture from some of the less happy
assumptions o f earlier generalizing theorists. But with the general
recognition in many circles o f African studies as a worthwhile
field o f research, an increasing num ber o f local scholars are both
turning to detailed and serious analysis o f their own oral literature
and beginning to find some measure o f encouragement for publi
cation of their results.1 A nd it is from this direction above all
that we can expect the more profound and detailed analyses o f
particular oral form s to come.12*
Other groups or individuals need only be mentioned briefly;
m any o f them have mainly localized or idiosyncratic interests. T h e
strong South African school has already been mentioned and con
tinues to take an interest in oral literature (both prose and intoned
praise poetry) in Bantu Africa as a whole. In the Congo a num ber
o f scholars have for some years been working closely together,
though relatively little in touch with the work of other groups.2
T h e y tend to concentrate on the provision and analysis o f texts,
some on a large scale, but with perhaps rather less concern for
social background and imaginative qualities; there have, however,
been a few striking studies on style, particularly on the significance
o f tone.4 Swahili studies too continue to expand, mainly focused,
however, on traditional written forms, w ith less interest in oral
literature. Traditional written literature in African languages
generally is gaining more recognition as a field o f academic re
search; strictly, this topic is outside the scope o f this book, but is
none the less relevant for its impact on attitudes to indigenous
African literature as a whole.
1 That this has not yet gone as far as it might is shown by the very limited
recognition of the material of so original a scholar as Nketia, much o f whose
work has appeared only in local publications.
1 These local scholars include, to mention only a selection, La$ebikan
(Yoruba), Abimbola (Yoruba), Owuor (alias Anyumba) (Luo), Mofokeng
(Sotho), Nyembezi (Zulu), Hampati Ba (Fulani), Adali-Mortti (Ewe), Okot
(Acholi and Lango).
1 e.g. Stappers, Van Caeneghem, Van Avermaet, Boelacrt, Hulstaert, d'e Rop,
publishing mainly in such periodicals as Aequatoria, Zaire, Kongo-Overzee, and
the various publications of the M usic / Acaditmej Institut royal(e) de Congo beige/
de VAfrique cenirale (and various similar titles).
4 e.g. Van Avermaet 1955.

The Perception o f African O ral Literature

45

Oral literature, like any other, has been and is subject to all the
rising and falling fashions in the criticism and interpretation of
literature and the human m ind. T h u s with African literature too
w e have those who interpret it in terms of, for instance, its rele
vance for psychological expression,' structural characteristics
beyond the obvious face value o f the literature (sometimes of the
type that could be fed into computers),123its social functions,1 or,
iiniilly and most generalized o f all, its mythopocic and pro
foundly meaningful nature.4 A ll these multifarious approaches,
to oral as to written literature, can only be a healthy sign, even
though at present there are the grave drawbacks o f both lack of
reliable material and lack o f contact between the various schools.
A ll this has had its effect on the older established disciplines
w ithin African studies. T h e linguists, for instance, who have in
any case been taking an increasingly systematic interest in Africa
recently,5 have been w idening their field to include a greater
appreciation of the literary aspect of their studies.6 T h e British
social anthropologists, influenced by increasing contacts with
colleagues in France and America and by co-operation with
linguists, are also beginning to take a wider view o f their subject,7
and French scholars too have recently produced a number o f
1 e.g. the somewhat Freudian approaches in Rattray 1930 and Herskovits
>934 , or Radin's more Jungian turn (1952, etc.).
1 See the influential and controversial article by C. Llvi-Strauss, T he
Structural Study of Myth, J A F 68, 1955 (not directly concerned with African
oral literature but intended to cover it among others); A. Dundes, From etic to
emic Units in the Structural Study of Folktales, J A F 75, 1962; I. Hamnett,
Ambiguity, Classification and Change: the Function of Riddles', Man, n .S. 2. 3,
1967. For a useful critique of this approach see M. Jacobs 1966.
3 An extension both of the functionalist school mentioned earlier and of the
structuralist approach; see e.g. Beidelman 1961, 1963 (and a number of other
articles on the same lines).
* See Livi-Strauss, op. cit., some of the writings o f a group o f French
scholars including Dieterlen, Griaule, Calamc-Grinule, and the speculations of
a number of English literary critics not themselves directly concerned with
African studies.
5 Cf. the newly founded journals African Language Studies (1960-), Journal of
African Languages (1962-), Journal o f West African Languages (1964-), and the
local but excellent Sierra Leone Language Review (1962-) (later ^ African
Langauge Review),
6 Cf. e.g. Amott 1957, Berry 1961, Andrzejewski 1965, etc., Whiteley 1964,
and other work under the auspices o f the School of Oriental and African Studies
in the University o f London.
7 The Oxford Library of African Literature, for instance (mainly devoted to
oral literature), is edited by two anthropologists and a linguist.

8161914

46

Introduction

detailed and imaginative studies.1 Besides these direct studies,

there is a grow ing awareness b y other groups o f the significance o f
oral literature as an ancillary discipline: historians discuss its re
liability as a historical source,12*4 creative writers turn to it for
inspiration,1 governments recognize its relevance fo r propaganda
or as a source in education.* M u ch o f this does not, perhaps,
amount to systematic study o f the literature as such b u t it
at least reflects an increasing recognition o f its existence.
T h ere are, then, growing signs o f a fuller appreciation o f the
extent and nature o f African oral literature. But even now it is
only beginning to be established as a systematic and serious field
o f study w hich could co-ordinate the efforts o f all those now work
ing in relative isolation. T h e desultory and uneven nature o f the
subject still reflects many o f the old prejudices, and even recent
studies have failed to redress the inherited over-emphasis on bare
prose texts at the expense o f poetry, or provide any close investi
gation o f the role o f composer/poet and the social and literary
background. T h e idea is still all too prevalent even in some o f the
better publications that even if such literature is after all w orthy
o f study, this can only be so in a 'traditional* framework. T h e
motive, then, for the study is partly antiquarian, and haste is urged
to collect these item s before they vanish or are 'contaminated* b y
new forms. T h ese new forms, it is frequently accepted without
question, are either not significant enough in themselves to deserve
record or, i f they are too obvious to evade notice, are hybrid* and
1 Notably de Dampierre, Lacroix, and others in the new Clastiquex afrieains
series; cf. also a number of excellent studies in the journal Cakiers d 'ituda
africainet (Paris, i960-) and the Unesco series of African texts which has
involved the collaboration of a number o f scholars, many of them French. As
this type o f approach interacts with the already established tradition o f Islamic
and Arabic scholarship in parts o f Africa, we may expect further interesting
studies in these areas. This has already happened to some extent for indigenous
written literature (see e.g. Lacroix 1965, Sow 1966 on Fulani poetry).
* See especially Vansina 1965, and the general interest in recording texts for
primarily historical purposes, e.g. the series o f Central Bantu Historical Texts
(Rhode9-Livingstone Institute, Lusaka).
* Though written literature and its relation to oral themes are beyond the
scope o f this book, it is interesting to note in passing the number of original
writers who have also worked os amateurs or professionals on the study o f oral
literature e.g. Kagame, Vilakazi, Bereng, Mqhayi, Mofokeng, Dhlomo,
Dipumba, Okot, and a number-of die Nigrilude^group of writers.
4 A number o f school textbooks use material from traditional orally trans
mitted prose (mainly narrative, also sometimes proverbs and riddles). On
propaganda, see Ch. 10.

The Perception o f African O ral Literature

47

somehow untypical. H ow misleading a picture this is is obvious

when one considers the many topical songs recorded by, for
instance, the A frican M usic Society, the m odem forms o f praise
poems or prose narratives, oral versions embroidered on Christian
hymns, or the striking proliferation o f political songs in con
temporary Africa but the old assumptions are still tenacious and
time after time dictate the selection and presentation o f African
oral literature w ith all the bias towards the traditional*. In keeping
with this approach too is the still common idea that African litera
ture consists m ainly o f rather childish stories, an impression
strengthened by the many popular editions o f African tales re
flecting (and designed to take advantage of) this common idea.
E ven now, therefore, such literature is often presented and received
with an air o f condescension and slightly surprised approval for
these supposedly naive and quaint efforts. M ost prevalent o f all,
perhaps, and most fundamental for the study o f African oral
literature is the hidden feeling that this is not really literature at
all: that these oral form s may, perhaps, fulfil certain practical or
ritual functions in that supposedly odd context called tribal life ,
but that they have no aesthetic claims, for either local people or
the visiting scholar, to be considered as analogous to proper
written literature, let alone on a par w ith it. T h e idea continues
to hold ground that it is radically different from real (i.e. written)
literature and should even have its own distinctive name ('folk
lore* perhaps) to make this dear. T h e fact, however, that oral
literature can also be considered on its own terms, and, as pointed
out in the last chapter, m ay have its own artistic characteristics,
analogous to b u t not always identical w ith more familiar literary
forms, is neglected in both popular conceptions and detailed
studies.
T h e poetic, the topical, and the literary all these, then, are
aspects which still tend to be overlooked. It is indeed hard for
those steeped in some o f the earlier theories to take full account o f
them. But what the subject now demands is further investigation
o f these aspects o f A frican oral art, as w ell as the whole range o f
hitherto neglected questions which could come under the general
heading o f the sociology'of literature; and a turning away from the
generalized assumptions o f earlier theoretical and romanticizing
speculators and o f past (or even present) public opinion.

THE SOCIAL, LINGUISTIC, AND

LITERARY BACKGROUND
Social and literary background. T h e linguistic basis the
example o f Bantu. Some literary tools. Presentation o f the
material. T h e literary com plexity o f A frican cultures

I
I n Africa, as elsewhere, literature is practised in a society. It is
obvious that any analysis of African literature must take account
of the social and historical context and never more so than in the
case of oral literature. Some aspects of this arc discussed in the
following chapter on poetry and patronage and in examples in
later sections. Clearly a full examination o f any one African litera
ture would have to include a detailed discussion of the particu
larities o f that single literature and historical period, and the same
in turn for each other instance a task w hich cannot be attempted
here. Nevertheless, in view o f the m any prevalent myths about
Africa it is worth making some general points in introduction and
thus anticipating some o f the more glaring over-simplifications
about African society.
A common nineteenth-century notion that still has currency
today is the idea o f Africa as the same in culture in all parts o f the
continent (or at least that part south o f the Sahara); as non-literate,
primitive, and pagan; and as unchanging in time throughout the
centuries. T h u s traditional Africa is seen as both uniform and
static, and this view still colours much o f the writing about Africa.
Such a notion is, however, no longer tenable. In the late nine
teenth or earlier twentieth centuries (the period from which a
number o f the instances here are drawn) the culture and social
forms o f African societies were far from uniform. T h ey ranged
and to some extent still do from the small hunting bands o f the
Bushmen o f the Kalahari desert, to the proud and independent
pastoral peoples o f parts o f the Southern Sudan and East Africa,

The Social, Linguistic, and Literary Background

49

or the elaborate and varied kingdoms found in many parts o f the

continent, above all in western A frica and round the G reat Lakes
in the east. Such kingdoms provided a context in w hich court
poetry and court poets could flourish, and also in some cases a wellestablished familiarity with Arabic literacy. Again, in the economic
field, almost every gradation can be found from the near selfsufficient life o f some o f the hunting or pastoral peoples to the
engagement in far-reaching external trade based on specialization,
elaborate markets, and a type o f international currency, typical of
m uch o f W est Africa and the Arab coast o f East Africa. T h e degree
o f specialization corresponding to these various form s has direct
relevance to the position o f native composers and performers of
oral literature in some cases leading to the possibility o f expert
and even professional poets, and o f a relatively leisured and some
tim es urban class to patronize them. In religion again, there are
m any different traditional form s: the older naive pictures o f
A frica as uniformly given up to idol-worshipping, fetishes, or
totemism are now recognized as totally inadequate. W c find areas
(like the northerly parts o f the Sudan region and the East Coast)
where Islam has a centuries-long history; the elaborate pantheons
o f W est African deities with specialized cults and priests to match;
the interest in Spirit issuing in a special form o f monotheism
among some o f the Nilotic peoples; the blend between belief in
the remote position o f a far off H igh G o d and the close power of
the dead ancestors in many Bantu areas and so on. T h is too may
influence the practice o f oral art, sometimes providing the context
and occasion for particular forms, sometimes the need for expert
religious performers.
In some areas we also find a long tradition o f A rabic literacy
and learning. T h e east coast and the Sudanic areas o f W est Africa
have seen many centuries of K oranic scholarship and o f specialist
Arabic scribes and writers using the written word as a tool for
correspondence, religion, and literature. T o an extent only now
being fully realized, these men were responsible for huge numbers
o f A rabic manuscripts in the form o f religious treatises, historical
chronicles, and poetry.1 In fact, even for earlier centuries a
1 A great number of these Arabic manuscripts have been collected and
catalogued in recent years. See e.g. V . Monteil, Les manuscrits historiques
arabo-africains, Bull. IF A N (B) 37-9, 1965-7; J. O. Hunwick. T he Influence
of Arabic in West Africa, Tram. Hist. Soe. Ghana 7,1964; A. D . H. Bivar and
M . Hiskett, 'The Arabic Literature of Nigeria to 1804, a provisional account ,

jo

Introduction

nineteenth-century writer on A rabic literature in the Sudan region

as a w hole can sum up his w ork:
On peut conclure quc, pendant les XIV, X Vs et X V Is si&cles, la
civilisation et les sciences florissaient au meme degre sur presque tous
les points du continent que nous etudions; quil nexiste peut-tre pas
une ville, pas une oasis, quelles naient marquee de leur empreinte
ineffaipable, et surtout, que la race noire nest pas fatalement reldgu^e
au dernier dchelon de l'esp&ce humaine.. .
N o t only was Arabic itself a vehicle o f communication and litera
ture, but many African languages in these areas cam e to adopt
a w ritten form using the A rabic script. T h u s in the east w e have
a long tradition o f literacy in Swahili and in the w est in Hausa,
Fulani, M andingo, Kanuri, and Songhai. W ith the exception of
Swahili,2 the native written literature in these languages has not
been very much studied,3 but it seems to be extensive and to
include historical and political writings in prose, theological
treatises, and long religious and sometimes historical poems. T h e
literary models tend to be those o f Arabic literature, and at times
paraphrase or even translation seem to have been involved. In
other cases local literary traditions have been built up, like the
well-established Swahili literature, less directly indebted to Arabic
originals but still generally influenced by them in the form and
subject-matter o f their writings.
In stressing the long literate tradition in certain parts o f Africa,
w e m ust also remember that this was the preserve o f the specialist
few and that the vast m ajority even o f those peoples whose
languages adopted the A rabic script had no direct access to the
written word. In so far as the writings o f the scholars reached them
at all, it could only be b y oral transmission. Sw ahili religious
B S O A S as, 1962; C . E. J. Whitting, T he Unprinted Indigenous Arabic
Literature o f Northern Nigeria', J . Royal Asiatic Society, 1943; W . E. N . Kensdale, 'Field Notes on the Arabic Literature of the Western Sudan, J . Royal
Asiatic Society, 1955, 1956; T . Hodgkin, 'The Islamic Literary Tradition in
Ghana (in I. M . Lewis (ed.), Islam in Tropical Africa, London, 1966); G . Vajda,
'Contribution & la connaissance de la literature arabe en Afrique occidentale*,
J . Soc. africanistcs 20, 1950.
1 A . Cherbonneau, Estai sur la literature arabe au Soudan d aprls le Tekmilet-ed-dibadje d Ahmed-BaSa, le Tombouctien, Constantine, 1856, p. 42.
1 See the work of e.g. Werner, Dammann, Allen, Harries, and Knappert.
1 Though see recent work by Hiskett and Paden on Hausa poetry and the
production of various texts in Fulani (e.g. by Lacroix and Sow).

The Social, Linguistic, and Literary Background

51

poems were publicly intoned for the enlightenment of the masses,1

Fulani poems were declaimed aloud,12 and Hausa compositions
were memorized as oral forms and sung by beggars3 or chanted on
the streets at night (or, nowadays, on the radio).4 T h e situation
was thus totally unlike the kind o f mass literacy accompanied by
the printing-press with which we arc more familiar.
Besides Arabic forms, there arc a few other instances o f literate
traditions in Africa. These include the now obsolete tifinagh script
o f the Berber peoples o f North Africa, among them the Tuareg o f
the Sahara. Here the written form was probably little used for
literary composition, but its existence gave rise to a small lettered
class and the interplay between written and oral traditions. M ost
often it was the women, staying at home while the men travelled,
who composed the outstanding panegyric, hortatory, and love
poetry o f this area.5 M ore important is the long written tradition
o f Ethiopia. T h is is the literature o f a complex and ancient
civilization whose association with Christianity probably dates
back to about the fourth century. Though probably never in
general use, w riting was used from an early period. It occurs
particularly in a Christian context, so that the history of Ethiopic
written literature coincides pretty closely with Christian literature,
much o f it based on translation. Th ere are chronicles (generally
taking the Creation o f the World as their starting-point), lives of
the saints, and liturgical verse. In addition there are royal chronicles
which narrate the great deeds o f various kings.6 T h e few other
1 Harries 1962, p. 24.
1 Lacroix i, 1965, p. 25.
1 e.g. the song of Bagaudu' (M. Hiskctt, B S O A S 27, 1964, p. 540).
* Paden 1965, pp. 33, 36.
* The Tuareg are marginally outside the area covered in this work and are
only touched on in passing. For an account of their written and oral literature
see Chadwicks iii, 1940, pp. 650 ft. and references to date given there. Among
more recent works on Tuareg see F. Nicolas 1944; H. Lhote, La documentation
sonore (chant, musique et poisic) itablie chcz les Touarcgs du Hoggar en 1948,
Cahiert Foucauld [Paris] 27. 3, 1952 (A A . 4. 310); also de Foucauld 1925-30.
T h e North African Berbers are excluded here.
4 Cf. the recent English translation of the fourteenth-century chronicle The
Glorious Victories o f 'Arnda $eyort. King of Ethiopia (OLAL) by G. VV. B.
Huntingford, Oxford, 1965 (and bibliography given there). On Ethiopian litera
ture in general (particularly oral) see Chadwicks iii, 1940, pp. 503 ft., and
bibliography to date there; also (mainly on written literature): E. Cerulli,
Storia della letteratura etiopica, Milan, 1956; D. Lifchitz, Textes ithiopiem
magico-religieux, T M IE 38, 1940; E. Ullendorf, The Ethiopian-, London, i960,
ch. 7 (and bibl.); C . Conti Rossini, Proverbi, tradizioni e caitzoni Tigrine,

52

Introduction

minor instances o f indigenous scripts for local languages, such as

Vai, arc of little or no significance for literature and need not be
pursued.
T h e common picture, then, which envisages all sub-Saharan
Africa as totally without letters until the coming of the white man
is misleading. A bove all it ignores the vast spread o f Islamic
and thus Arabic influences over many areas o f Africa, profoundly
affecting the culture, religion, and literature. It must be repeated,
however, that these written traditions were specialist ones un
accompanied by anything approaching mass literacy. T h e resulting
picture is sometimes o f a split between learned (or written) and
popular (or oral) literature. But in many other cases we find a
peculiarly close interaction between oral and written forms. A
poem first composed and written down, for instance, may pass
into the oral tradition and be transmitted by word o f mouth,
parallel to the written form; oral compositions, on the other hand,
are sometimes preserved by being written down. In short, the
border-line between oral and written in these areas is often by no
means clear-cut.
T h e earlier belief that Africa had no history was due to ignorance.
Africa is no exception to the crowded sequence o f historical events,
even though it is only recently that professional historians have
turned their attention to this field. T h e early impact and continuing
spread of Islam, the rise and fall o f empires and kingdoms through
out the centuries, diplomatic or economic contacts and contracts
within and outside Africa, movement and communication between
different peoples, economic and social changes, wars, rebellions,
conquests, these are all the stuff o f history. No doubt too there
have been in the past, as in the present, rising and falling liter
ary fashions, some short-lived, others long-lasting; some drawing
their inspiration from foreign sources, others developing from
existing local forms. Examples in this volum e may give a rather
static impression, as if certain traditional forms have always been
the same throughout the ages; but such an impression is mislead
ing and arises more from lack o f evidence than from any necessary
immobility in African oral art. Unfortunately there are few if any
African societies whose oral literature has been thoroughly studied
and recorded even at one period o f time, let alone at several
Verbania, 1942; A. Klingenheben, 'Zur amharischen Poesie', Rats, studi etiop.
IS, 1959 and various articles in,?. Ethiopian Studies and Rass. studi etiop.

The Social, Linguistic, and Literary Background

53

periods.1 But with increasing interest in oral art it m ay be hoped

that enough research wiH be undertaken to make it feasible, one
day, to write detailed literary and intellectual histories o f particular
cultures.
A further consequence o f the facile assumptions about lack o f
change in Africa until very recently is to lead one to exaggerate
the importance o f these m ore recent changes. T o one who thinks
A frican society has remained static for, perhaps, thousands o f
years, recently induced changes must appear revolutionary and
upsetting in the extreme. In fact, recent events, important as they
are, can be better seen in perspective as m erely one phase in a
w hole series o f historical developments. A s far as oral literature and
communication are concerned, the changes over th e last fifty or
hundred years are not so radical as they sometimes appear. It is
true that these years have seen the imposition and then with
drawal o f colonial rule, o f new forms o f administration and in
dustry, new groups o f m en in power, and the introduction and
spread o f Western education accompanied b y increasing reliance
on written forms o f communication. But the impact o f all this on
literature can be over-emphasized. For'one thing, neither schools
nor industrial development have been evenly spread over the area,
and many regions have little o f either. Th ere is nowhere anything
approaching mass literacy. Indeed it has been estimated that some
thing like eight out o f ten adults still cannot read or write,1 and
even where mass primary education is the rule it w ill take years to
end adult illiteracy. Bare literacy, furthermore, in what is often
a foreign language (e.g. English or French) may not at all mean that
school leavers will turn readily to writing as a form o f communica
tion, far less as a vehicle o f literary expression. Literacy, a paid
jo b , even an urban setting need not necessarily involve repudiation
o f oral forms for descriptive or aesthetic communication.
T h ere is a tendency to think o f two distinct and incompatible
types o f society traditional and modern, for instance and
to assume that the individual must pass from one to the other by
some sort of revolutionary leap. But individuals do not necessarily
feel torn between two separate worlds; they exploit the situations
* An exception is the interesting but controversial discussion of different
periods in Zulu praise poetry in Kunene's unpublished thesis (196a), sum
marized in Cope 1968, pp. 50 ff.
1 The World Year Book o f Education, London, 1965, p. 443 (possibly an
exaggeration, but it is clear that the number is still very high).

54

Introduction

in w hich they find themselves as best they can. T h ere is, indeed,
nothing to be surprised at in a continuing reliance on oral forms.
Sim ilarly there is nothing incongruous in a story being orally
narrated about, say, struggling for political office or winning the
football pools, or in candidates in a modern election campaign
using songs to stir up and inform mass audiences w hich have no
easy access to written propaganda. Again, a traditional migration
legend can perfectly well be seized upon and effectively exploited
b y nationalist elements for their own purposes to bring a sense
o f political unity among a disorganized population, as in G abon in
the late 1950s.1 O r university lecturers can seek to further their
own careers and standing b y hiring praise singers and drummers
to attend the parties given for their colleagues and to panegyricize
orally the virtues o f hosts and guests.
Such activities may appear odd to certain outside observers
as if having m odem competence in one sphere must necessarily
involve an approximation to W estern cultural modes in others.
But the complexity o f th e facts contradicts this view, w hich in
part still derives from nineteenth-century ideas about evolutionary
stages. In fact, many different form s o f literature are possible and
exist, and i f most o f the examples in this volume appear to deserve
the term traditional, this is perhaps more a function o f the out
look and interests o f previous collectors than an indication that
certain form s o f oral art cannot coexist with some degree o f
literacy.2
O ne o f the main points o f this section is to emphasize that the ,
African world is not totally different from that o f better-known
cultures. It is true that much remains to be studied, that the special
significance o f the oral aspect m ust be grasped, and that one o f the
difficulties o f appreciating A frican literature arises from the un
fam iliarity o f m uch o f its content or context. But and this is the
crucial point the unfamiliarities are on the whole those o f detail,
not o f principle. Far from being something totally mysterious or
blindly subject to some strange force o f tradition, oral literature
in fact bears the same kind o f relation to its social background as
does w ritten literature. In each case it is necessary to study in
1 See the detailed description of this in Fernandez 1962.
1 Cf. for instance the political songs, Christian lyrics, work songs, topical
songs, and children's singing games described later, as well as the increasing use
o f radio.

The Social, Linguistic, and Literary Background

55

detail the variations bound up with differing cultures or his

torical periods, and to see the significance o f these for the full
appreciation o f their related literary forms. In neither case are
these studies necessarily easy. But it is a disservice to the analysis
o f comparative literature to suggest that questions about African
oral literature are either totally simple (answered merely b y some
such term as tribal mentality or tradition) or so unfamiliar and
mysterious that the normal problems in the sociology o f literature
cannot be pursued.

11
African literature, like any other, rests on the basis o f language.
Something must now therefore be said about this. Though a full
account could only be given by a linguist and this description only
tries to convey a few points and illustrations, the topic is so im
portant for the appreciation o f African oral literature that some
treatment must be attempted here.
Linguistically A frica is one o f the complex areas in the world.
T h e exact number o f languages to be found is a matter o f dispute,
but the most often cited figure is 800, if anything an underestimate.1
These, let it be stressed, arc languages in the full sense o f the term
and not mere dialects. T h e y can, however, be grouped together
into larger language families. T h e exact composition and relation
ships o f these are, again, a matter o f controversy, but the over-all
picture is clear. T h e best-known group is that made up o f the
Bantu languages (these include such languages as Zulu, Swahili,
and Luba), w hich extend over a vast area, practically all o f south and
central Africa. In the opinion o f some recent scholars, even this
large Bantu group is only one sub-division within a much larger
family, the N iger-C on go group, which also includes most o f the
languages o f W est A frica.2 Another vast family is the Afro-Asiatic
(also called Hamito-Semitic), a huge language group which not
only includes A rabic but also, in the form o f one language or
another, covers most o f N orth Africa, the Horn o f East A frica
(including Ethiopia), and an extensive area near Lake C had (where
1 J. H. Greenberg, Africa as a Linguistic Area, in W. R. Bascom and
M . J. Herskovits (eds.), Continuity and Change in African Cultures, Chicago,
1962; cf. also J. H. Greenberg, Languages o f Africa, Indiana, 1963.
1 Including the sub-families of West Atlantic, Mandingo, Gur, Kwa, Ijaw,
Central, and Adamawa-Eastem (Greenberg, op. cit., 1962, p. 17).

56

Introduction

it includes the well-known and widely spoken example of Hausa).

T h e Central Saharan and Macrosudanic families arc two further
groupings, the former covering a large but mostly sparsely in
habited region north and east o f Lake Chad (including Kanuri),
the latter various Sudanic languages around the N ile-Congo
divide and eastwards in the Nilotic and G reat Lakes region o f
East Africa.1 Finally there is the Click (or Khoisan) family covering
the Bushman and Hottentot languages which, in the south-west o f
Africa, form a separate island in an area otherwise dominated b y
Bantu.2 Besides these indigenous languages wc should also men
tion the more recently arrived language o f Arabic and, more
recently still, European languages like English, French, or A fri
kaans.
In spite o f the differentiation into separate language families,
there are nevertheless certain distinctive features which the
indigenous languages tend to have in common. These, Greenberg
writes,
result from later contacts among the languages o f the continent, on a
vast scale and over a long period. Practically none of the peculiarities
listed. . . as typical are shared by all African languages, and almost every
one is found somewhere outside of Africa, but the combination of these
features gives a definite enough characterization that a language, not
labeled as such for an observer, would probably be recognized as
African.2
Some o f the detailed characteristics in the realm o f phonetics or
semantics are not worth lingering over in the present context, but
the significance of tone must be mentioned. Outside the A froAsiatic family, tone (pitch) as an element in the structure o f the
language is almost universal in Africa and is particularly striking
in several of the W est African languages. Even some of th,e A froAsiatic languages (in the Chad sub-group) seem to have developed
tonal systems through the influence o f neighbouring'languages.
Complex noun-classifications are also widespread though not
universal. T h e best-known instance o f this is the system of classes,
1 It includes among others the Nilotic and Nilo-Hamitic languages.
* The once-held view that certain languages outside the Afro-Asiatic family
(as now recognized) are wholly or partly Hamitic (e.g. Fulani, Bushman,
Masai) and that the history of these and other areas in Africa could therefore be
explained by successive incursions of Hamites (racially white) is now rejected
by professional scholars of Africa.
1 Greenberg, op. cit., 1962, p. 22.

The Social, Linguistic, and Literary Background

57

characterized by prefixes, into which all nouns arc divided in the

Bantu languages; but similar morphological forms arc also to be
found elsewhere. Series o f derivations built up on the verb arc also
common and express such concepts as causative, reciprocal, re
flexive, passive, or applicative. As will b e seen later, all these
features have direct relevance for the student of oral literature.
Contrary to earlier views based on cither ignorance or specula
tion about the supposed prim itive nature of non-literate language,
it is now clear that African languages arc neither simple in structure
nor deficient in vocabulary. T h e y can, indeed, be exceedingly
complex. Some, for instance, make complicated and subtle use of
varying tones to express different lexical and grammatical forms.
Others have a system of affixes which have been compared in scope
to those o f Russian, Hungarian, or ancient G reek.1 In these and
many other ways each language has its own genius, its own indi
vidual resources of structure and vocabulary on which the native
speaker can draw for both everyday communication and literary
expression.
A full appreciation o f these points can naturally only be gained
through a detailed study and knowledge o f a particular language
and its various forms of expression. But a general discussion o f the
single example of the Bantu group o f languages may serve to
illustrate better than mere assertion the kinds o f factors that can
be involved in the constant interplay in any African language
between its linguistic and literary features.
T h e literary resources o f the Bantu languages have been vividly
described by Doke. He w rites:
Great literary languages have a heritage of oral tradition which has
influenced the form of the earliest literary efforts: in many cases this
early heritage has had to a great extent to be deduced; but we are in the
fortunate position of being able to observe the Bantu languages at a
stage in which their literature is still, in the vast majority of cases,
entirely oral. . . .*
T h e linguistic basis from which Bantu oral literature has developed
and on which further written forms may be built emerges clearly
from his description.
1 Andrzejewski 1965, p. 96.
1 Doke 1948, p. 284; the following account is largely based on this classic
article; cf. also Lestrade 1937.

58

Introduction

In the first place, the literary potentialities o f these languages

include their large and remarkably rich vocabularies. Languages
like Z u lu or Xhosa, for instance, are known to have a vocabulary
o f over 30,000 words (excluding all automatic derivatives), the
standard Southern Sotho dictionary (20,000 words) is definitely
not exhaustive, and Lamans great K ongo dictionary gives 50,00060,000 entries. A large percentage o f this vocabulary, furthermore,
is em ployed in daily use b y the common people. 1 W hile they
naturally did not include traditional terms for objects and ideas
outside indigenous cultural form s, Bantu languages have, both
earlier and more recently, shown themselves peculiarly adaptable
in assimilating foreign terms; and in the range o f the fields of
experience with which Bantu thought is familiar, the extent of
Bantu vocabulary tends to be rather larger than that o f the average
European language.2
Vocabulary, however, is not ju st a matter o f the number o f
words. It also concerns the w ay in which they are used. In this
respect, the picturesque and imaginative forms o f expression o f
m any Bantu languages'are particularly noticeable. T h ese are often
applied to even the commonest actions, objects, and descriptions.
T h e highly figurative quality o f Bantu speech comes out in some
o f these terms molalatladi, the rainbow, is literally the sleepingplace o f the lightning ; tnojalefa, the son and heir o f a household,
is the eater o f the inheritance ; bohlaba-tSatii, the east, is where
the sun pierces .3 T h is also comes out in compound nouns. In
K ongo, for instance, we have kikoltoa-malavu, a drunken person
(lit. being stiff w ith wine), or kilangula-mangu, a slanderer (lit.
uprooting reputations), and in Bem ba icikata-nsoka, a courageous
person (lit. 'handling a snake), and umuleka-cisoa, ricochet (lit.
the devil aims it).4 Besides the praise forms mentioned later,
figurative expression is also com m only used to convey abstract
ideas in a vivid and imaginative way. T h e idea o f conservatism,
for instance, is expressed in Z u lu b y a phrase meaning literally to
eat w ith an old-fashioned spoon, dissimulation b y 'he spoke
w ith tw o mouths, while in Southern Sotho idiom, the idea o f
bribery is conveyed b y the hand in the cloak.3
* Doke 1948, p. 285.
* Lestrade 1937, pp. 303-4.
* Ibid., p. 304.
4 J. Knappert, Compound Nouns in Bantu Languages', J . A fr. Language14,
1965. PP- 221 >2 * 3- 4 -

The Social, Linguistic, and Literary Background

59

T h e flexible w ay in which this vocabulary can be deployed can

only be explained w ith some reference to the characteristics of Bantu
morphology. One o f the most striking features o f its structure is the
wealth of derivative form s which it is possible to build up on a few
roots through the use o f affixes, agglutination, and at times internal
vowel changes. B y means o f these derivatives it is feasible to express
the finest distinctions and most delicate shades o f meaning.
T h e verb system in particular is extraordinarily elaborate. There
are o f course the normal forms of conjugation o f the type we might
expect though these forms are com plex enough and exhibit a
great variety o f moods, implications, aspects, and tenses. Zulu,
for instance, has, apart from imperative and infinitive forms, five
moods, three implications (simple, progressive, and exclusive),
three aspects, and a large number o f tenses built up both on verbal
roots and through a system of deficient verbs forming compound
tenses.1 B ut in addition there is also a wealth o f derivative
verbal forms w hich provide an even more fertile source on which
the speaker can draw. There is an almost endless variety o f possi
bilities in this respect, with full scope for ad hoc formation accord
ing to the speakers need or mood, so that stereotyped monotony
is easily avoided.
T h e extent o f these derivative verbal forms can be illustrated
from the case o f Lam ba, a Bantu language from Central Africa.
For this one language, Doke lists seventeen different formations
o f the verb, each expressing a different aspect. These comprise:
1. Passive (suffix -via).
2. Neuter (intransitive state or condition, suffix -ika or -eka).
3. Applied (action applied on behalf of, towards, or with regard
to some object, suffix -ila, -ina, et al.), e.g. ima (rise) > imina
(rise up against).
4. Causative (various suffixes), e.g. tala (lie down) > Udika
(lay down).
5. Intensive (intensity or quickness of action, suffix -isya or
-esya), e.g. pama (beat) > pam isya (beat hard).
6. Reciprocal (indicating action done to one another, suffix
-ana or (complex form) -ansyanya), e.g. ipaya (kill) >
ipayansyanya (indulge in mutual slaughter).
1 Doke 1948, pp. 392-3-

6o

Introduction
7. Associative (indicating action in association, suffix -akana or
-ankana), e.g. sika (bury) > sikakana (be buried together).
8. Reversive (indicating reversal o f the action, various suffixes
with different meanings), e.g. hpga (pack) > lotjgoloka
(come unpacked), lotjgolola (unpack), and lorjgolorya. (cause
to be in an unpacked state).
9. Extensive (indicating an action extended in time or space,
various suffixes), e.g. pama (strike) > pamala (beat).
10. Perfective (of action carried to completion or perfection,
various suffixes), e.g. leka (leave) > lekelela (leave quite
alone).
i t . Stative (state, condition, or posture, in -ama).
12. Contactive (indicating contact, touch, in -ata).
13. Frequentative (by reduplicating the stem), e.g. -ya (go) >
-yayaya (go on and on and on).

Th ere are a few other form s which occur only sporadically:

14. Excessive (in -asika), e.g. pema (breathe) > pemasika (pant).
15. Contrary (in -jjgana), e.g. seleygana (be in confusion).
16. Reference to displacement, violent m ovement (-muka and
various other suffixes), e.g. ciUmuka (rush off).
17. Reference to extension, spreading out (suffix -alala), e.g.
andalala (spread out at work).1
Lam ba is perhaps particularly rich in these verbal derivatives,
but similar formations could be cited for each o f the Bantu
languages. In the rather different case o f M ongo, for instance,
Hulstaert lists eighty different forms o f the verb in his table o f
verbal conjugation, each with its characteristic format and
meaning.* Madan sum s up the extraordinary richness o f the
Bantu verb when he writes:
. . . any verb stem. . . can as a rule be made the base of some twenty or
thirty others, all reflecting the root idea in various lights, sometimes
curiously limited by usage to a particular aspect and limited significance,
mostly quite free and unrestrained in growth, and each again bearing
Doke 1948, pp. 290-2.
* G . Hulstaert, Grammarie du Lim ing), II. Morphologie, A M R A C 57, 1965,
table at end of vol., also chs. 5-6.

The Social, Linguistic, and Literary Background

61

the whole luxuriant super-growth of voices, moods, tenses, and personforms, to the utmost limits 0/ its powers of logical extension.1
In this way, then, a constant and fertile resource is provided on
which a composer can draw according to his wishes and skill.
A second subtle linguistic instrument is provided by the system
o f nouns and noun-formation. T h e basic structure is built up
on a kind o f grammatical class-gender, w ith concordial agreement.
In Bantu languages, that is, there are a num ber of different classes,
varying from twelve or thirteen to as many as twenty-two (in
Luganda), into one or other o f w hich all nouns fall. Each class has
a typical prefix which, in one or another form , is repeated through
out the sentence in which the noun occurs (concordial agreement).
A simple example will make this clear. T h e Zulu term for horses,
amahhashi, is characterized b y the prefix ama- which must re
appear in various fixed forms {a-, ama-) in the relevant phrase.
T h u s his big horses ran away must be expressed as horses theyhis they-big they-ran-away (amahhashi akhe amakhulu apalekile).*
T h e precision o f reference achieved through this grammatical form
dispels the vagueness and am biguity sometimes inherent in equi
valent English forms, and at the same tim e provides possibilities
which are exploited for alliteration and balance in literary form u
lations.
Each o f these noun classes tends to cover one main type o f
referent, though there are variations between different languages.
In general term s we can say that names o f people tend to pre
dominate in classes 1 and 2, names o f trees in classes 3 and 4,
names o f animals in classes 9 and 10, abstract terms in class 14,
verb infinitives in class 15, and locatives in classes 16, 17, and i8 .}
There are effective ways o f using this system. Sometimes by
changing the prefix (and thus class) o f a particular w ord it is
possible to put it into a new class and so change its m eaning or
connotation. In Tswana, for instance, mo\nna, man (class 1) takes
on new meaning when transferred to other classes, as se/nna,
manliness, bolnna, manhood; while in Venda we have tskiftku,
thing, ku/thu, tiny thing, and dijthu, huge thing.4 Besides such
straightforward and accepted instances, the transference o f noun
class is sometimes exploited in a vivid and less predictable w ay in
1
A. C. Madan, Living Speech in Central and South Africa, an Ettay Intro
ductory to the Bantu Family o f Languaget, Oxford, 1911, p. 53.
1 Doke 1948, p. 289.
3 So ibid., p. 288.
4 Loc. cit.
8161814

62

Introduction

the actual delivery o f an oral piece. W e can cite the instance of a

Nilyamba story about the' hares wicked exploits which ends up
w ith the narrator vivid ly and economically drawing his conclusion
b y putting the hare no longer in his own noun class but, b y a mere
change of prefix, into that normally used for m onsters!1
Besides the basic noun class system, there is the further possi
bility o f building up a w hole series o f different noun formations
to express exact shades o f meaning humour, appraisement, rela
tionships, and so on. T h is system is far too com plex to be treated
briefly, but a few instances m ay serve to show the kind o f rich
flexibility available to the speaker.
T h ere are special form s w hich b y the use o f suffixes or prefixes
transform the root noun into a diminutive, into a masculine or
feminine form, or into a term meaning the in-law, the father, the
mother, the daughter, and so on o f the referent. Personification is
particularly popular. I t can be economically effected by trans
ferring an ordinary noun from its usual class to that o f persons.
T h u s in Zulu, for instance, w e have the personified form uNtaBa
(Mountain) from the com m on noun for mountain, intaBa\ and
uSikhotha, from the ordinary isikhotha, long grass.3 T h is is a type
o f personification sometimes found in stories where the name of
an animal is transferred to the personal class and thus, as it were,
invested with human character. A further w ay o f achieving per
sonification is by a series o f special formations based, among other
things, on special prefixes, derivations from verbs or ideophones,
reduplication, or the rich resources o f compounding.
Several o f these bases are also used to form special impersonal
nouns. Such nouns built up on verbal roots include instances like,
say, a verb stem modified b y a class 4 prefix to indicate 'method
o f action (e.g. the K ik u yu muthitre, manner o f walking, from thii,
walk), or by a class 7 prefix suggesting an action done carelessly
or badly (e.g. Lam ba icendeende, aimless walking about, from enda,
w alk; or Lulua tshiakulakula, gibberish, from akula, talk), and
m any others.3 Reduplication is also often used in noun formation.
In Z u lu w e have the ordinary form izitthloBo, kinds, becoming
izinhbBonhloBo, variety o f species, and imimoya, w inds, reduplicated
to give itnimoyamoya w ith the meaning o f 'constantly changing
w inds.4
*
1 F. Johnson, 'Kiniramba Folk Tales', Bcuitu Studies 5, 1931, p. 330.
1 Doke 1948, p. 295.
1 Ibid., p. 296.
4 Ibid., p. 297.

The Social, Linguistic, and Literary Background

63

Com pound nouns above all exhibit the great variety o f expres
sion open to the speaker o f a Bantu language. These are usually
built up on various combinations o f verbs (compounded with e.g.
subject, object, or descriptive) or nouns (compounded with other
nouns, with a qualitative, or with an idcophone). T h u s w e get the
Lam ba umwenda-yandu, a deep ford (lit. where the crocodile
travels), icikoka-mabwe, the klipspringer antelope (lit. rockblunter); the Xhosa indltdamthi, giraffe (lit. surpasscr o f trees),
or amaBona-ndensile, attempts (lit. see what I have done); or,
finally, the a name for the D eity, Ipaokubozha, with the literal
meaning H e that gives and rots. 1 T o these must be added the
special praise names described later which add yet a further
figurative aspect to those already mentioned.
In these various formations and derivatives o f noun and verb,
Bantu languages thus have a subtle and variable means o f expres
sion on w hich the eloquent speaker and composer can draw at will.
In addition there is the different question o f style and syntax as
well as the actual collocation o f the vocabulary used, all o f which
vary w ith the particular literary genre chosen by the speaker. In
general, apart from the rhetorical praise poems of the southern
areas, Bantu syntax gives the impression o f being relatively simple
and direct. T h is impression can however be a little misleading;
the syntactical relationships o f sentences are more complex than
they appear at first sight. W hat seems like co-ordination o f simple
sentences in narrative in fact often conceals subtle forms o f sub
ordination through the use o f subjunctive, sequences o f historic
tenses, or conditionals. In this w ay the fluent speaker can avoid
the monotony o f a lengthy series o f parallel and conjunctive
sentences though this is the form in which such passages tend
to appear in English translations. Furthermore, Bantu expression
generally is not limited, as is English, by a more or less rigid
word-order: because o f its structure there are many possible ways
in which, b y changes in word-order or terminology, delicate shades
o f m eaning can be precisely expressed which in English would have
to depend on th e sometimes am biguous form o f emphatic stress.
A ll in all, D oke concludes, Bantu languages are capable o f re
markable fluency. . . . T h e y provide a vehicle for wonderful
handling b y the expert speaker or w riter.*
Besides the basic structure o f Bantu languages in vocabulary

11

1 Ibid., pp. 297-8.

* Ibid., p. 285.

64

Introduction

and morphology, there are some further linguistic features which

add to its resources as a literary instrument. Perhaps most im
portant among these is the form usually called the ideophone.1
T h is is a special word w hich conveys a kind o f idea-in-sound and
is commonly used in Bantu languages to add emotion or vividness
to a description or recitation. Ideophones are sometimes onomato
poeic, but the acoustic impression often conveys aspects which, in
English culture at least, are not normally associated w ith sound at
all such as manner, colour, taste, smell, silence, action, condition,
texture, gait, posture, or intensity. T o some extent they resemble
adverbs in function, but in actual use and grammatical form they
seem more like interjections. T h e y are specifically introduced to
heighten the narrative or add an element of drama. T h e y also come
in continually where there is a need for a particularly lively style
or vivid description and are used with considerable rhetorical
effect to express emotion or excitement. An account, say, of a
rescue from a crocodile or a burning house, of the complicated and
excited interaction at a communal hunt or a football match these
are the kinds of contexts made vivid, almost brought directly
before the listeners eyes, by the plentiful use o f ideophones:
They are used by accomplished speakers with an artistic sense for the
right word for the complete situation, or its important aspects, at the
right pitch of vividness. T o be used skilfully, I have been told, they
must correspond to ones inner feeling. Their use indicates a high
degree of sensitive impressionability.2
T h e graphic effect o f these ideophones is not easy to describe
in writing, but it is worth illustrating some o f the kinds of terms
involved. T h e Rhodesian Shona have a wide range o f ideophones
whose use and syntax have been systematically analysed b y For
tune.1 Am ong them are such terms as
k we sound of striking a match.
gwengwendere sound o f dropping enamel plates.
nyiri nyiri nyiri nyiri flickering o f light on a cinema screen.
dhabhu dhabhu dhabhu o f an eagle flying slowly.
tsvukururu of finger millet turning quite red.
1 Sometimes also called mimic noun, 'intensive noun, descriptive, in
declinable verbal particle', etc.
2 Fortune 1962, p. 6, on Shona ideophones.
3 Op. cit.

The Socia l, Linguistic, and Literary Background

65

go, go, go, ngondo ngondo ngondo, pxaka pxaka pxaka pxaka
pxaka the chopping down o f a tree, its fa ll, and the splinter
ing o f the branches.
Again we could cite the following Z u lu instances:
khwi turning around suddenly.
dtoi dawning, coming consciousness, returning sobriety, easing
o f pain, relief.
ntrr birds flying high with upward sw eep ; aeroplane or missile
flying.
bekebe flickering faintly and disappearing.
khwibishi sudden recoil, forceful springing back.
fa fa la zi doing a thing carelessly or superficially.
ya perfection, completion.1
T h e ideophone often appears in a reduplicated form. T h is is
common with m any o f its uses in T h on ga to give a vivid impres
sion o f gait and manner o f movement:
A tortoise is m oving laboriously khwanya-khwanya-khwanya!
A butterfly in the air pha-pha-pha-pha.
A frog jum ps into a pond, after three little jum ps on the ground
noni-noni-noni-djantaaa.
A man runs very slowly wahU-wahli-wahle.

with little hurried steps nyakwi-nyakwi-nyakwi.

at fu ll speed nyu-nyu-nyu-nyu-nyuuu.
He walks like a drunkard tlikw i-tlikw i.
A tired dog fambifa-fambifa-fambifa.
A lady with high-heeled shoes peswa-peswa.1
U sing this form , a Thonga writer can describe vividly and eco
nomically how a man was seized, thrown on the thatched roof o f
a hut, came down violently and fell on the ground:
Vo m oil tshuku-tshuku! 0 tlhela a ku: shulululuuu! a wa h i
matimba a ku: pyakavakaa.3
In Thonga as in other Bantu languages ideophones are constantly
being invented anew, demonstrating the richness and elasticity o f
the language. F or the Thonga, this form
1 D. Fivaz, Some Aspects of the Ideophone .in Zulu (Hanford Studies in
Linguistics 4), Hanford, Connecticut, 1963 (mimeographed).
* Junod 1938, pp. 31-2.
Ibid., p. 31.

66

Introduction

expresses in a little word, a movement, a sound, an impression of fear,

joy or amazement. Sensation is immediate and is immediately trans
lated into a word or a sound, a sound which is so appropriate, so fitting,
that one sees the animal moving, hears the sound produced, or feels
oneself the very sensation expressed.1
In the ideophone, therefore, speakers o f Bantu languages have
a rhetorical and em otive tool whose effectiveness cannot be over
emphasized. In vivid and dramatic passages to use it is to be
graphic; to omit it is to be prosaic',2 and, as Burbridgc wrote o f
it earlier:
In descriptive narration in which emotions are highly wrought upon
. . . the vivid descriptive power of kuti [ideophone] is seen, and the
human appeal is made, and the depths of pathos are stirred by this
medium of expression o f intensely-wrought emotion without parallel
in any other language. The ideophone is the key to Native descriptive
oratory. I cant imagine a Native speaking in public with intense feeling
without using it.1
Also very striking are the praise names o f Bantu languages.
These are terms w hich pick out some striking quality o f an object
and are used for inanimate objects, birds, animals, and finally, in
their fullest form, as names for people. W e meet compound names
that could be translated as, for instance, Forest-trcader, 'L ittle
animal o f the veld', Crumplc-up-a-pcrson-with-a-hardwoodstick, or Father o f the people. Other examples are the Ankole
H e W ho Is N ot Startled, I W ho D o N ot T rem ble , He W ho Is
O f Iron', H e W ho Com pels T h e Foe T o Surrender*, or He
W ho Is Not Delirious In T h e Fingers (i.e. who grasps his weapons
firmly),4 and the Zulu H e who hunted the forests until they
murmured, W ith his shields on his knees (i.e. always ready for
a fight), or Even on branches he can hold tight (i.e. able to master
any situation).5 Sometimes the reference is to more recent con
ditions and formulations, a type which occurs in Kam ba praise
names for girls in popular songs. Th ese include M bititi (from
1 Junod 1938, pp. 30-1.
* Doke 1948, p. 301.
1 A. Burbridgc, Bantu Studies tz , 1938, p. 243, quoted in Doke 1948, p. 287.
For some other discussions of ideophones in Bantu languages see A. A. Jaques,
Shangana-Tsonga Ideophones and their Tones', Bantu Studies 15, 1941;
D . P. Kunene, The Ideophone in Southern otho, y . A fr. Languages 4, 196$;
G . Hulstaert, 'Les ideophones du Lomongo', A R S O M Bull. 8. 4, 1962. On
ideophones in non-Bantu languages see below, p. 71.
1 Cope 1968, p. 72.
4 Morris 1964, pp. 19 ff.

The Social, Linguistic, and Literary Background

67

English battery): car-batteries are said to provide heat just as

the girls attractiveness heats up her admirers; Singano (needle),
praising the sharpness o f the girls breasts; and M byuki (from
English Buick): as Buicks are famous for their high-gloss black
finish, this is effective praise o f the beauty o f the girls skin.1
Praise names, it is clear, provide a figurative element in the litera
ture in w hich they appear and, like the Homeric epithet in Greek
epic, add colour and solemnity. In panegyric poetry the use o f
praise names is one o f the prim ary characteristics,2 but in all con
texts the use o f praise names can add an extra dimension to speech
or literature and continue to flourish amidst new conditions.3
A few further features should be mentioned briefly. One is the
sound system. There is the dominantly vocalic quality o f the
Bantu sound-system, the absence o f neutral and indeterminate
vowels, and the general avoidance o f consonant-combinations .4
Bantu languages differ in the use they make o f this system. Shona,
for instance, is definitely staccato, Swahili to some extent so, and
the tonal systems also vary. Som e use a regular long syllable, as in
the N gun i languages o f the south (including Zulu and X hosa):
Strongly-marked dynamic stresses, occurring in more or less regular
positions in all words of the same language, and the fairly regular
incidence of long syllables also usually in the same positions, give to
Bantu utterance a rhythmic quality and a measured and balanced Bow
not met with in languages with irregular stresses and more staccato
delivery.5
T h e particular genius o f each language gives rise to various
possibilities in the structure o f verse. T h e type o f prosody often
used exploits the grammatical and syntactical possibilities o f the
language, which is not, as in English, bound by a fixed word order.
Alliterative parallelism is easily achieved. T h u s in the Zulu
proverb
Kuhlwile I phambUi // kusile / erntiva
It is dark / in front // it is light / behind (i.e. it is easy to be wise
after the event)*
* W . H. Whiteley, 'Loan-words in Kamba, A ft. Language Studies 4, 1963,
P- *6s* Sec Ch. 5.
* For some further comments on praise names see Ch. 16, pp. 475 ff.
4 Lcstrode 1937, p. 30a.
s Ibid., p. 303.
4 Quoted by Lestrade 1937, p. 307. Zulu proverbs frequently exhibit a type
of metrical form.

68

Introduction

there is perfect parallelism, idea contrasting to idea in correspond

ing position, identical parts o f speech paralleling each other (verb
for verb, and adverb for adverb), and, finally, number o f syllables
and dynamic stress exactly m atching each other. Sim ilar effects
are produced by cross-parallelism (chiasmus) where the corre
spondence is to be found crosswise and not directly, and by link
ing, the repetition of a prominent word or phrase in a previous
line in the first half of the next one. T h e kind o f balance m ay even
extend to correspondence in intonation and, though very different
from more familiar metrical forms, is felt to provide perfect
balance and rhythm b y native speakers o f the language.1
T o these linguistic resources on which the Bantu speaker can
draw w e must also add the whole literary tradition that lies behind
his speech. There is, for one thing, the interest in oratory and in
the potentialities of the language w hich is typical o f many Bantu
peoples. T h ey have the germ o f literary criticism in their very
blood, writes Doke, and discussions o f words and idioms, and
plays on tone, word, and syllable length all provide hours of
entertainment around the hearth or camp fire in Central A frica.2
There is the rich fund o f proverbs so often used to ornament both
everyday and literary expression w ith their figurative and elliptical
forms. T h ere are the praise names that occur so comm only in
Bantu languages, forming on the one hand part o f the figurative
resources o f Bantu vocabulary and word-building, and on the
other a form o f literary expression in its own right, often elaborated
in the south into full praise verses of complex praise poetry.3 T o
all these literary resources we must, finally, add the formal genres
o f Bantu literature prose narration, proverb, riddle, song, praise
poetry. In each of these the artist can choose to express himself,
drawing both on the resources o f the language and on the set
forms and styles placed at his disposal
. . . from the artless discursiveness and unaffected imagery of the folk
tales to the stark economy of phrasing and the elaborate figures of
speech in the ritual chants, from the transparent simplicity and highlycharged emotion of the dramatic songs to the crabbed allusiveness and
sophisticated calm of the proverb, and from the quiet humour and
modest didacticism of the riddle to the high seriousness and ambitious
rhetorical flight of the praise-poem.*
1 Lestrade 1937, pp. 307-8.
See Ch. $.

1 Doke 1948, p. 284.

4 Lestrade 1937, p. 305.

The Social, Linguistic, and Literary Background

69

I have written at some length about the basis for oral literature
in the single Bantu group in order to illustrate from one welldocumented example the kind o f resources w hich may be available
in an African language. Other languages and language groups in
A frica have other potentialities some in com m on with Bantu,
some very different but a similar kind o f analysis could no doubt
be made in each case. T h ere is no reason, in short, to accept the
once common supposition that African languages, unlike those o f
Europe, could provide only an inadequate vehicle for the develop
m ent o f literature. T h is point is made here in general terms and
w ill not be repeated constantly later, but it is necessary, in the
case o f each analysis o f a single literary form , to remember the
kind o f literary and linguistic resources that, though unmen
tioned, are likely to lie behind it.1
in
It is necessary to examine briefly the general relevance o f certain
other elements, particularly tone, metre and other prosodic forms,
and music.
T h e significance o f tone in literary form s has been most fully
explored in W est A frican languages, though it is not confined to
them. In these languages tone is significant for grammatical form
and for lexical meaning. In, for instance, Y oruba, Ibo, or Ewe, the
meaning o f w ords w ith exactly the same phonetic form in other
respects may be completely different according to the tone used
it becomes a different word in fact. T h e tense o f a verb, case o f
a noun, even the difference between affirmative and negative can
also sometimes depend on tonal differentiation. Altogether, tone
is something o f w hich speakers o f such languages are very aware,
and it has even been said of Yoruba that a native speaker finds it
easier to understand someone who gets the sounds wrong than
someone speaking w ith incorrect tones.
T h is awareness o f tone can be exploited to aesthetic effect.
N ot only is there the potential appreciation o f unformalized tonal
patterns and the interplay o f the tones o f speech and o f m usic in
sung verse,2 but tones also form the foundation o f the special*
* This point is particularly important to bear in mind since in most cases it
has only been possible to include translations of the literary examples quoted.
* See Ch. 9, p. 264.

Introduction

literary form in w hich words are transmitted through drums.1 In

addition tone is apparently sometimes used as a formal element
in the structure o f certain types o f orally delivered art. In Yoruba
not only do tonal associations play a part in conveying overtones
and adding to the effectiveness o f literary expression, but the tonal
patterning is also part o f the formal structure o f a poem. One light
poem, for instance, is based on the tonal pattern o f high, mid, low,
m id, with its reduplicate o f low, low, m id, low :
J6 bita bata o gbona kbkta (2)
Oj6 bita bata (2)
Opa b o ti mo j6 lailai.
Dancing with irregular steps you are heading for the marsh (2),
I f you will always dance with those irregular steps, you [? will] never
be a good dancer.2
Another, in m ore serious vein, gives a vivid description of a great
battle, adding a note o f authenticity with the authors claim to have
been an eye-witness:
Ijk kan, Ijk kin ti nwon jk lQfk nkd
Oju tal6 td di$ mb? ?
Gbogbo igi t6 soju b
wo we,
Gbogbo M n t soju
wewii hje
0g?r6 kgbonrfn t6 jsoju 9 Io hu'wo Ioju ode;
$ugbpn 6 soju mi p kete nile we nibi nwon bi mi Imno;
Agbk ni ng 6 t! dk, mo kuro lomode kgbdkdrun roko.

16
16

What about a great fight that was fought at Ofa

Is there anyone here who witnessed a bit of it?
Although the trees that saw it here all shed their leaves,
And the shrubs that saw it were all steeped with blood,
And the very stags that saw it grew fresh horns while the hunters
looked on.
Y et I saw every bit o f it, for it was fought where I was bom.
I do not claim to be old, but I'm no more a child that must be carried
to the farm.2
La$ebikan comments on the tonal structure o f this poem. It falls
into four distinct divisions: 'H ow are these divisions marked out?
N o t by means o f rhym es as in English poems, but by the tone o f *
* See Ch. 17.
* La?ebikan 1956, p. 48. T he conventional tone marks are u se d :' for a high
ton e,' for low, and no mark for mid.
2 La$ebikan 1955, pp. 35-6.

The Social, Linguistic, and Literary Backgrottnd

71

the last syllable o f the division. He shows how the actual words
used are carefully chosen to fit this tonal structure, for possible
alternatives with the same meaning and syllable number have
tonal compositions that would spoil the cadence o f the poem.'
A similar but more detailed analysis has been made by Babalola
o f the way tonal patterning is a characteristic feature o f the struc
ture of Yoruba hunting poetry (ijala). T h e musical and rhythmic
effect o f this poetry arises partly from tonal assonance specific
short patterns of syllabic tones repeated at irregular intervals
or, alternatively, from tonal contrast which 'seems to . . . increase
the richness o f the music o f the ijala lines by adding to the element
o f variety in successive rhythm-segments.*
In other forms and areas too w e sometimes see tonal corre
spondence. There is sometimes tonal parallelism between question
and answer in 'tone riddles or within the balanced phrases o f
some proverbs.3 T h e use o f tone correspondence in some poetry
is so striking as to have been called a species of rhym e .4
Som e o f the detailed analyses o f the significance o f tone in
literature are controversial, and little enough work has as yet been
done on this formal aspect. B ut as linguists increasingly stress
the general importance o f tone in African languages throughout
the continent, so we can expect many more studies o f this aspect
o f literature.
Ideophones and other form s o f sound association are so impor
tant in non-Bantu as w ell as Bantu languages that they are worth
mentioning again at this point. T h u s there are the important sound
associations in Yoruba w hich connect, for instance, a high toned
nasal vowel with smallness, or low toned plosives w ith huge size,
unwieldiness, or slow movement, often intensified by reduplica
tion;* the connection in E w e and G beya with the vowel /i/ and
a lateral resonant consonant in ideophones for sweet, or the
common use of back rounded vowels for ideophones indicating
dark, dim, obscure, foggy , etc.6 In many cases ideophones
' Ibid., p. 36.
1 Babaipla 1965, pp. 64-5; cf. Babalpla 1966, appendix A passim.
1 See e.g. Simmons 1958 (Efik); Van Avermaet 1955 (Luba).
* e.g. the tonal rhyme o f Efik, Ganda, and possibly Luba poetry (Simmons
1960a; Morris 1964, p. 39; Van Avermaet 1953, p. s; Steppers 1952).
* Lasebikarv 1956, p. 44.
* W . J. Samarin, 'Perspective on African Ideophones, A ft. Studies 24,1965,

p. 120.

72

Introduction

constitute a high proportion o f the lexical resources of the language.

In Gbeya, in the Central African Republic, about 1,500 ideophones
have been recorded. A number o f African languages are said to
haye twenty, thirty, or even forty ideophones just to describe
different kinds o f walking.1 Indeed it has been suggested by one
authority that ideophones by count constitute, next to nouns and
verbs, a major part of the total lexicon o f African languages.12
M any different instances o f these graphic ideophones could be
added to the earlier (Bantu) examples we have cited. W e have, for
instance, the Yoruba representation o f water draining out drop
by drop (to to to), a lady in high heels (ko kb ko kb, kb), or a stalwart
in heavy boots (kb, ka, kb);3 T h e Zandc ideophones digbidigbi
(boggy, oozy, slushy), guzuguzu (fragrantly, sweet smelling),
gangbugangbu (listlessly), degeredegere (swaggeringly), and gbaragagbaraga (quarrelsome-ly).45 T h e effectiveness of such form s for
descriptive and dramatic formulations and the poetic quality they
can add to ordinary language need not be re-emphasized except
to say that this point constantly reappears in detailed analyses of
African oral art.
Then there is the topic o f prosodic systems in African verse.
T h is is a difficult question which, apart from one classic article by
Greenberg* (largely devoted to Arabic influence), has received
relatively little attention. It is clear that many different forms-are
possible which can only be followed up in detailed accounts o f
particular literary genres. Broadly, however, one can say6 that
six main factors can be involved: rhyme, alliteration, syllable
count, quantity, stress, and tone. O f these, the last three can only
be used when there is a suitable linguistic basis. Tone, for instance,
can only perform a prosodic function in tonal languages; and this
influence o f language on form can be seen in the way Hausa has
1 W. J. Samarin, op. cit., pp. 117, 118.
* Ibid., p. 121.
3 La$ebikan 1956, p. 44.
4 Evans-Pritchard 1962, p. 143; cf. also E. E. Evans-Pritchard, A Note on
Bird Cries and Other Sounds in Zandc, Man 6 i, 1961. For other discussions o f
ideophones in non-Bantu languages sec e.g. Equilbecq i, 1913, pp. 100-2 (West
Africa); Finnegan 1967, pp. 80-1 (Limba); M. H. I. Galaal and B. W . Andrzejewski, Hikmad Soomaali (SOAS Annotated African Texts 4), London, 1956,
p. 94 (imitative words in Somali), as well as many passing references in collec
tions of stories, etc.
5 Greenberg i960; cf. also two earlier articles by Greenberg: Swahili pro
sody, J . Am. Oriental Soe. 67, 1947; Hausa verse prosody, ibid. 69, 1949).
6 Here and throughout this section I draw mainly on Greenberg i960.

The Social, Linguistic, and Literary Background

73

been able to keep to the quantitative form o f its Arabic verse

models, whereas in Swahili, equally or more dominated by the
A rabic tradition, the nature o f the language has precluded the use
o f quantitative metres and instead turned interest to rhyme and
syllable count.1
T h e Arabic influences on African prosody have been sum
m arized by Greenberg and need not be repeated in detail here.
In spite o f various difficulties and uncertainties the Arabic-based
styles are somewhat easier to analyse than some other forms of
African poetry, partly because, for one familiar with the Arabic
forms, the parallel African ones are ultimately recognizable, partly
because they appear in local written forms in w hich the evidence
tends to be somewhat more plentiful and accurate than for oral
A frican poetry. Classical A rabic prosody is a source o f verse forms
in several African languages, particularly the qastdah (ode) based
on quantity and rhyme. T h is occurs, for example, in learned Fulani
poetry, and in learned (and sometimes in popular and oral) Hausa
poetry; in both cases there is the retention o f quantitative features
made feasible by the forms of these two languages. T h e postclassical tasm t has also influenced African forms. Again it uses
quantity and rhyme, but with more stress on rhym e. It occurs in
several West African languages (Ilausa, Kanuri), but has reached
its highest development in Swahili where it is by far the most
comm on form in both learned and popular poetry, whether sung
or recited.2 Since Swahili does not possess vow el quantitative
distinctions, this principle has been replaced by that o f syllable
count accompanied by rhyme. Its most popular form is the fourline stanza (each line containing eight syllables), with the basic
rhym e scheme aaab/cccb/dddb/. . ., but five-line stanzas (takhmis)
also sometimes occur.3
T h e instances so far are unmistakable cases of direct Arabic
influences. Certain other examples are not so clear, though Arabic
influence seems likely. In the Horn of Africa (Ethiopia and Somali,
etc.) rhyme is a frequent prosodic principle (sometimes in com
bination with other features), to such an extent that Greenberg
speaks of this region as the East African rhym ing area .4 In
* Greenberg 1960, pp. 927, 935; cf. also other articles by Greenberg cited
above and Knnppert 1966, pp. 136 ff.
1 Greenberg i960, p. 935.
> Ibid., pp. 934-6; cf. also Harries 1962, pp. 9 ff., Greenberg, op. cit., 1947,
passim; also W. Hichcns, Swahili Prosody, Swahili 33, 1962/3.
4 Greenberg i960, pp. 937 ff.

74

Introduction

various ways, this use o f rhyme is exploited in to give just a few

instances early G e 'e z verse (classical Kthiopic), the Am haric
royal songs, G alla strophic poetry, and T ig re verse. A few indica
tions o f possible A rabic influence can also be detected among the
M uslim N ubians o f the N ile Valley and the Berbers (particularly
the Tuareg) where, again, rhyme is used.1 A s Greenberg sums it u p :
The outstanding impression in the historic dimensions is the vast
reach of certain, and in many cases highly probable, Arabic influence
in the northern part o f Africa an influence well documented for many
other aspects of the culture of the area.12*
F or the form s o f African prosody w hich cannot be thus traced
to ultimate A rabic influence, the picture is much less clear indeed
little work has been done on this. It seems that rhyme and regular
metre are uncom m on or non-existent. Sometimes alliteration
seems to be a marked feature. T h ere arc, for example, the very
rigid rules o f alliteration in Somali poetry in which each line in the
whole poem must contain a word beginning with the same sound.1
There is also the m uch less formalized alliteration arising from
parallelism in Southern Bantu praise poetry.4 A s was mentioned
earlier, tone is also sometimes a formal characteristic o f some
African poetry, though its analysis has not as yet proceeded very
far. In Nkundo poetry, on the other hand, tone seems to be o f less
significance, i f w e accept Boelaerts contention that stress (accent
dynamique) is the basic characteristic o f the prosodic system.5 T h e
same point m ight be made about the dynamic stress in Southern
Bantu praise poems6 and in Ankole recitations.7 In other cases
again, it seems that either the musical setting or such features as
repetition, linking, or parallelism perform certain o f the functions
we normally associate with metre or rhyme. But the whole question
is a difficult one, and there seem to be many cases when, either out
1 De Foueauld i, 192s, p. xiii.
2 Greenberg i960, p. 947. On Arabic influences see also A. I. Sow, Notes sur
les procd6s podtiques dans la literature dcs Pculs du Fouta-Djalon, Cak. itud.
afr. 19, 1965. Cf. also the interesting analysis o f a Fulani poem by C. Seydou,
* Majaa6o Alla gaynaali , po&me cn langue pculc de Fouta-Djaion', Cah. itud.
afr. 24,1966.
2 Greenberg i960, pp. 928-9; Andrzejewski and Lewis 1964, pp. 42-3.
* See above, pp. 67-8; and Ch. 5, pp. 134-2.
* E. Boelaert, Premieres recherchcs sur la structure de cinq poesies lonkundo', 1 R C B Bull. 23. 2, 1952.
7 Morris 1964, pp. 32 ff.
* See Ch. 5, pp. 129-30.

The Social, Linguistic, and Literary Background

75

o f ignorance or from the nature o f the material, the observer finds

it difficult to isolate any clear prosodic system in what he calls
poetry. T h u s in Southern Bantu literature, to quote Lcstrade
again:
The distinction between prose and verse is a small one . . . the
border-line between them is extremly difficult to ascertain and define,
while the verse-technique, in so far as verse can be separated from
prose, is extremely free and unmechanical. Broadly speaking, it may be
said that the difference between prose and verse in Bantu literature is
one o f spirit rather than of form, and that such formal distinction as
there is is one of degree of use rather than of quality of formal elements.
Prose tends to be less emotionally charged, less moving in content and
full-throated in expression than verse; and also but only in the second
place less formal in structure, less rhythmical in movement, less
metrically balanced.1
T h e analysis o f indigenous African prosody is thus clearly b y no
means a simple matter, and apart from the work o f musicologists
on the rhythm o f fully musical forms,2 relatively little study has
apparently yet been made o f this aspect of African literature.3
T h is brings us to the final point the significance of music.
C learly this is not a feature o f a ll African literary forms. It occurs
seldom in what is normally classified as prose stories, narra
tions, riddles, proverbs, or oratory/ In poetry it is more common.
In fact the occurrence o f music or o f a sung mode o f expression
has sometimes been taken as one o f the main differentiating marks
between prose and verse. Even here, however, there is a wide
range o f possibilities. O n the one hand, in m uch panegyric and
some religious verse the verbal element is markedly predominant
over the musical, and such form s are, at most, delivered in a kind
o f recitative or intoned form . T h en there are other types in
w hich the music is progressively more important, until we reach
the extreme choric form (often with leader and chorus) with
1 Lestrade 1937, p. 306.
1 On which see Ch. 9 below.
J For some further references to questions of prosody see Coupez and Kamanzi
1957, and 1962, pp. 8-9; A. Coupez 1958 and idem., Rythme quantitatif dans
les berceuses Rundi, Folia Scientifiea AfricaeCentralis [Bukavu], 5. 3,1959 (on
the quantitative element in Rundi and Ruanda verse); A. Klingenheben, Zur
amharischen Poesic', Rats, studi etiop. 15, 1959 (argues from Amharic popular
songs that metre is based on accent rather than, according to the usual view, on
syllabic numbering).
4 Except for songs within stories, on which see Chs. 9, pp. 244 ff.; 13,
pp. 383 ff-

76

Introduction

instrumental accompaniment and even dance, like the sym phonic

poems o f the Chopi.1 In such cases the music, however closely
intertwined w ith the words, m ay come to dominate them and we
can no longer assume that, as seems so often to be taken for
granted in Western culture, verbally expressed literature can be
taken as self-evidently the top art .j In some cases, indeed, it is
clear that musical expression (or even sometimes the dance) may
be the object o f greater interest, critical appreciation, and spe
cialized performance. T h is is a central question in any assessment
o f the position o f oral literature within a particular cultural tradi
tion, for even in less extreme cases the musical aspect m ay still
be a very important one. T h ough it may appear secondary to one
basically interested in literature, it is clearly something which
cannot be ignored, above all in lyric forms.
A s in the case of the more purely linguistic basis, I will not keep
drawing attention to the significance o f music in the case o f every
single relevant form.2 But to allow ourselves to forget the impor
tance music may assume in certain cases of African poetry is to
minimize the intricacy and full aesthetic appeal of these instances
of oral literature.
iv
Before proceeding to the main part o f the book, there are a few
general points to make about presentation and the nature o f the
literature involved.
First, there is the question o f the categories I have used to
present the material. A n immediate problem is how to differentiate
between prose and poetry. T h ough some cases seem to fall
clearly under one or the other heading, the distinction between the
two is not always self-evident. I have in fact begged the question
by making a firm division between the parts devoted to prose and
to poetry respectively. T h is however has been done more for
convenience than in an attempt to make a definite typology. T h e
kinds o f factors which it has seemed helpful to consider inclu de:
musical setting (most sung form s can reasonably be regarded
as poetry); the intensity and emotion o f expression; sometimes
(but not always) rhythm, and tonal or syllabic rhyme (the latter
1 Tracey 1948a.
1 Some further points are made on this subject in Ch. 9.

The Socia l, Linguistic, and Literary Background

77

infrequent except under Arabic influence); special vocabulary,

style, or syntactical form s ; local evaluation and degree o f specialism
(more marked with poetry than with prose); and, finally, the native
classifications themselves. Such factors give some kind o f indica
tion o f the form involved, though none is either necessary or
sufficient. A t best they are only a matter o f degree and in m any
cases can provide no rigid distinctions.1 T h ere is clearly a large
amount o f overlap, like the introduction o f songs into stories (in
some cases so marked that the story becomes swamped in the
singing) or the poetic form o f proverbs w hich are nevertheless
usually classified as prose. But this kind o f overlap and lack o f
clear differentiation need not worry us too m uch (unless, that is,
our main preoccupation is the building o f typologies), particularly
when w e recall the recent blurring o f the traditional prose/verse
distinctions in more familiar literatures.
O ne obvious w ay to present the evidence m ight have seemed to
be by geographical area, describing the different oral forms charac
teristic o f different regions or peoples. B ut there are serious diffi
culties about such an approach. One is its tendency to become a
mere catalogue and a repetitive one at that, since such form s as
stories, proverbs, or work songs are very wide-spread, and perhaps
universal. A more serious obstacle is the fact that so far there has
only been the most haphazard sampling o f the apparently huge
oral literary resources o f the continent. T h e selection has all too
often depended not only on geographical accessibility and his
torical accident, but also on the preconceptions o f the observer or
the ease of recording, rather than on the evaluation o f the people
involved. Hence w e have a vast number o f proverbs, riddles, and
stories but relative neglect o f poetry or oratory. O n ly the literature
o f very few peoples has ever been at all adequately covered,* and
for some whole areas little serious work appears to be available.3
It is thus extremely difficult to draw any well-founded conclusion
about the different form s recognized by a people at a given time.
1 Since a clear distinction between prose and poetry seems to be associated
with writing (and more particularly with printing), it is not surprising that the
difference is somewhat blurred in non-literate cultures.
1 Among them perhaps some of the Southern Bantu languages, Swahili,
Fulani, Hausa, Dogon, and some of the Kwa groups of the West African coast;
but even in these cases there has not been systematic or rigorous coverage.
1 e.g. from Portuguese Africa, South West Africa, or the Central African
republics.

81618

78

Introduction

O ne can make a few broad generalizations: the significance o f

Arab-influenced form s in the north and east in such languages as
Fulani, Hausa, or Swahili; the importance o f elaborate panegyric
among the Southern in contrast to some o f the Central Bantu;
the spread o f drum literature over the tropical forest areas o f W est
and West Central Africa (including the Congo); and the proba
bility (yet to be fully explored) that some languages and cultures
are more interested in certain form s o f artistic expression than
are others.1 B ut beyond this one can give little of an over-all
picture. In this unsystematically covered field the argumentum ex
silentio is not a good one and at present there is not enough evidence
for a geographical approach.
There are also drawbacks to the type o f presentation I have
adopted, i.e. grouping the material according to broad literary
genres. A religious song, for instance, or a praise poem m ay be
very different in form , in relationship to other genres, or even in
function in different areas, and an over-rigid insistence on the
categories I am using could be misleading. Suffice it to say that
the chapter headings I use here seem satisfactory enough for a
brief introductory survey and have arisen fairly naturally from the
material at present available; but that th ey are likely to prove
inadequate for future detailed research. In fact local classifications
o f poetry in particular would seem norm ally to be far more com
plex than the handful o f categories I employ.
T h is leads on to a further point. T o read about, say, the hunting
songs o f the A m bo, Christian lyrics o f the Fante, proverbs o f the
Jabo, or stories o f the Lim ba may give the impression that each
o f these are th e most valued or even the only forms o f oral
art in the society concerned. In fact all th e available evidence
suggests that this would be misleading. In general terms, poetry
seems to be m ore highly valued and specialized than prose the
opposite o f the impression given in m any of the numerous
collections o f A frican stories. It is also common for many different
literary genres to be recognized in any one society. A m ong the
1 e.g it has been observed (by R. Horton) that Yoruba seems to be an in
tensely 'verbal' culture with particular emphasis on poetry as against, say, Ibo
or Kalahari where the main stress is rather on drama (including drumming and
dancing) and perhaps oratory. (On Yoruba, cf. Babalpla (1966, p. v) on their
'tonal, metaphor-saturated language which in its ordinary prose form is
never far from music in the aural impression it gives and which has produced
an extensive variety o f spoken art.)

The Social, Linguistic, and Literary Background

79

Akan-speaking peoples of Ghana, for instance, a large number of

different poetic forms have been distinguished by Nketia.1 In terms
o f the mode o f delivery, there are four broad classes o f Akan
poetry, each including many different types in detail: (1) spoken
poetry, which covers many o f the poems to do with chiefship, like
the praises delivered at state functions; (2) recitative, poetry half
spoken, half sung, like funeral dirges, elegies b y court musicians,
and hunters poetry; (3) lyric (i.e. sung) poetry, a large category
comprising many different types o f song each with its own con*
ventions among them songs o f insult, heroic songs, sung inter
ludes in stories, maiden songs, love songs, songs o f prayer,
exhilaration and incitement, cradle songs, and warrior songs; and
finally (4) poetry expressed through the medium o f horns or drums,
in lyric, eulogistic, or proverbial vein. These instances, further
more, are only selective (and cover only poetry, not prose), and
m any others could have been added in a more comprehensive
catalogue.2 A similar account could be given o f Y oruba literature
from W estern Nigeria. In prose there are stories o f various
kinds, riddles, proverbs, and praise appellations. In poetry, the
variety can be sufficiently illustrated by merely listing some of
the vernacular terms that describe different verse form s; e$a, etoi,
ijala, rara, ofp, ogede, oriki, ogbere, ege, arofo, odu ifaS Poetic forms
have probably been studied in more detail in W est African
languages than elsewhere, and it is possible that some o f these
languages may be particularly rich in poetic forms. T h ere is no
reason, however, to suppose that this kind of poetic diversity is
w ithout parallels in other parts of the continent. W e hear, for
instance, o f many different form s among the N goni o f Malawi,
Ila and T on ga o f Zambia, L u b a o f the Congo, Rwanda o f Ruanda,
Som ali of North-East A frica, and many others.4 A n d further
research will without doubt reveal similar instances throughout the
continent.
T h is kind o f literary com plexity can be assumed to lie behind
m any o f the actual examples which are mentioned in this volume
1 In his classic article in Black Orpheus 3, 1958 (Nketia 19586).
1 Cf. for instance the sung forms mentioned in Nketia 1962, chs. 2, 3, and
passim; and 1963a, passim.
* See Babalqla 1966, p. vi; La$ebikan 1956, pp. 46,48; Gbadamosi and Beier
1959, passim.
* Read 1937; A. M. Jones 1943; Kalanda 1959, pp. 77~9, and Burton 1943;
Kagame 1947, 195(6, etc.; Andrzejewski and Lewis 1964.

8o

Introduction

(and elsewhere). It needs to be remembered that practically all

accounts to date give only a tiny selection from the m anifold
literary genres o f any one society. T h e present exceedingly sim ple
impression o f African literature can be seen to rest more on lack o f
research than on lack of actual material. A real understanding o f
the oral literature o f any single A frican people will only be possible
with further detailed research and collection. M ore information is
required not only o f actual texts but also o f the nature and inter
relationships o f all their literary genres; their conventional form s,
content, occasions, exponents, and expected audience.

POETRY AND PATRONAGE

Variations in the poets position. Court poets. Free-lance and
wandering poets. Part-time poets

T h is chapter is intended to give some account o f the conditions

in w hich African oral poets produce their works, and the audiences
to w hich they address themselves. However, even the most sum
m ary account o f this topic is a matter o f great difficulty. T h is is
partly because o f sheer lack o f data. Even those w ho have spent
tim e and care recording African texts have frequently taken next
to no interest in the position o f the authors or reciters. A related
but m ore profound cause o f confusion lies in the popular images
w hich underlie the work o f many commentators on African oral
literature, images which suggest some general and simple pattern
to w hich these poets are expected to conform.
O ne commonly held view o f the position o f the poet among
unlettered peoples seems ultimately to derive from the picture o f
the rhapsodist o f the H om eric age. T h e bard is depicted as stand
ing before the gathered lords to chant the heroic lays handed down
through the generations, rewarded with honour and rich gifts. It
seemed to some earlier writers natural to assume that African
societies were at a certain evolutionary stage, one long since passed
b y Indo-European peoples, and that the type o f poetry and of
patronage apparently once found in the latter w ould be discover
able in the former. T h is image o f the bard delivering his rude but
stirring verses to barbaric audiences has gained a profound hold
on the popular imagination from its vivid representation in litera
ture as w ell as in scholarly works inspired b y the concept o f the
heroic age.

82

Poetry

T h ere is another common image which presents an opposite

picture. In this the poetry o f non-iitcrate peoples is seen as in some
way arising directly and com m unally from the undifferentiated
folk. In this case song is its own reward and the specialized role of
the poet has not yet made its appearance.
In fact neither picture fits the varied nature o f poetry in A frica.
T h is will be immediately obvious: as soon as the question is raised
it is self-evident that any study o f the conditions and background
o f poetry in A frica can no longer afford to rely on such halfconsciously held generalizations but must proceed to a m uch more
rigorous and detailed investigation o f the actual position o f poets
in the various societies. Some poets, it is clear already, are associ
ated w ith royal courts and receive reward as professionals. Others
depend on private enterprise, perhaps wandering from patron to
patron and living on their wits. O thers gain their basic livelihood
from fanning or cattle-keeping (or whatever the local basis o f
subsistence m ay be), but are marked out by their expert skill on
special occasions. Finally, in some contexts poets are not set apart
from their fellows in terms o f training, reward, or position. Indeed,
almost every category o f relationship between poet and audience
can be found in A frica in one context or another. These differences
are not confined to different geographical areas but can be dis
covered even within a single society. Even in one culture (Hausa
or Fulani, for instance, or, to a lesser exent, Ashanti) one can
sometimes see the coexistence o f a learned and a more popular
tradition, and it is common for many different genres o f poetry to
be recognized simultaneously, each with its own type of per
former, reward, and occasion. N o single picture can cover all these
variations and even the most cursory account o f poetry in Africa
must begin b y insisting on the variety before going on to discuss
certain comm on patterns.i
i
T h e practice o f poetic composition and performance as a
specialist art is not uncommon in A frica. Poetry is, b y and large,
differentiated from prose as being marked by greater specialism.
T h e m ost specialized genres o f poetry occur in association w ith
royal courts. T h e other familiar form o f patronage religion is
also relevant, but in an organized form it is less significant.

Poetry and Patronage

83

In the traditional kingdoms of Africa, with their royal courts

and clearly marked differences in wealth, power, and leisure, court
poetry flourished. Poets were attached to the courts of powerful
kings, to the retinues o f nobles or lesser chiefs, and to all those
w ho had pretensions to honour and thus to poetic celebration in
their society. T h e speciality of these court poets was, of course,
panegyric, a form illustrated in the following chapter. One can
cite the elaborate praise poems o f the Zulu or Sotho in southern
A frica, the poems o f the official singers o f the ruler o f Bornu, the
royal praises of the Hausa emirs, the eulogies addressed to rulers
in the various kingdoms o f the Congo, and many others. In all
these areas the ruling monarchs and their ancestors were glorified
in poems, and real and ideal deeds were attributed to them in lofty
and effusive language. T h e court poets sometimes had other
functions too. Preservation o f the historical record and o f genealo
gies, for example, was often a part o f their art, and it is sometimes
suggested that this was at times a distinctive activity carried on in
its own right. But in spite o f repeated assertions about this,1 there
are few details about the actual performance or expression o f his
torical poetry as distinct from panegyric, and w e have to content
ourselves with vague generalizations.2 It is clear, at least, that a
knowledge of accepted history in the sense o f the glorification of
the great deeds o f royal ancestors or present rulers was a necessary
part o f the cultivation o f panegyric poetry, and that praise poems
are a fruitful source o f the currently authorized interpretations of
certain historical events and genealogies. W hat w e always come
back to in the productions o f these court poets is the adulatory
aspect, giving rise to poetry o f profound political significance as
a means of political propaganda, pressure, or communication.
T h e actual position and duties o f these court poets vary in
different areas. In some cases a poet holds a single clearly recog
nized office among a ruler's entourage. This was so with the Zulu
and other Bantu kingdoms of southern Africa where not only the
paramount king but also every chief with any pretensions to
political power had, wherever possible, his own imbongi or praiser.
1 e.g. on the Yoruba (S. Johnson, The History of the Yorubas, London, 1921,
p. 125), Fon (Herskovits 1958, pp. 20-1), and the general comments in Notes
and Queries on Anthropology, London, 6th ed., 1951, p. 204, and Vansina 196$,
pp. 148-9.
* On the question of epic* and historical poetry generally see Note on
pp. 108 ff.

84

Poetry

T h is was an official position at the court, important enough to the

rulers to have survived even the eclipse o f much o f their earlier
power. T h e tmbongi's profession was to record the praise names,
the victories, and the glorious qualities o f the chief and his
ancestors, and to recite these in lengthy high-sounding verse on
occasions which seemed to call for public adulation o f the ruler.
T h e poet had two duties: to remember and to express the appro
priate eulogies. Though these praises tended to have a set and
recognize^ form (particularly those o f dead rulers), the poets task
did not consist of mere memorizing. T h e praises had no absolute
verbal immutability, and emotional and dramatic force in actual
recitation was expected of a. successful imbongi. T h e lofty strain o f
these Zulu eulogies and the impressiveness of their delivery can
be pictured from a few lines taken from the praises o f a Z ulu king;
they glorify the swiftness and completeness of his victory over
the foe:
Faster-than-the-sun-before-it-has-risen!
When it rose the blood of men had already been shed.
The Bush, the Buck-catcher, caught the men of Sekwayos.
He made men swim who had forgotten how,
Yes! even in the pools!. . .
The tobacco fields rotted even to pulp!
The wrapping-mats were finished at Banganomo;
At (the kraal) of Kuvukuneni,
At that at Mdiweni, even Vimbemshenis,
At that at Bukledeni,
A t that at Panyekweni.1
In many W est African kingdoms the pattern is more com pli
cated. A whole band o f poets is often involved, the various m em
bers making their own specialist contributions to the performance.
Musical as well as verbal elements play a part, so that the skills o f
many different performers are necessary. Am ong the Ashanti, fer
instance, there were not only minstrels (kwadvmmfo) to recount
the deeds o f past kings whenever the living king appeared in
public, but also royal horn-blowers and a band o f court drummers
specially appointed as part o f the rulers formal entourage and
over whose performances he held a kind o f monopoly. On state
occasions these drummers provided both music and the type o f
'drum poems described in a later chapter the drum-beats or notes
* Grant 1927, p. 227.

P oetry and Patronage

85

o f th e horn being heard as actual words, praising the ruler and his
predecessors and commemorating the glorious victories o f the
past. Such performances w ere an essential part o f state occasions:
at state receptions at th e palace or out o f doors; in processions to
display the regalia or visit some sacred spot; and at national
festivals, state funerals, and political functions like the installa
tions o f new chiefs or the swearing o f oaths o f allegiance b y subchiefs.1 Again, in the old and powerful kingdom o f D ahom ey there
was not just one but a series o f royal orchestras 'charged with
praising the power o f the royal dynasty, the high deeds o f past
kings, and the glory o f the present ruler. Every m orning in Abom ey
concerts were held b y the main state orchestra before the royal
palace, and when the king w ent out it accompanied him to sing his
praises.2 A final w ell-know n W est African exam ple is that o f the
maroka teams o f praisers still associated w ith th e wealthy and
cultivated Islamic emirates o f the Hausa o f N orthern Nigeria.
T h ese highly specialized teams are attached permanently to the
office o f the king, and, to a lesser extent, to that o f D istrict Heads.
Sm ith describes the kings team :
The kings musicians and maroka form an organized group containing
one or more titular series and effective authority hierarchies. The group
is both more numerous and specialized in its musical functions, and
more permanently attached to the title, than are the teams linked to
District headships, which are similarly organized. Many of the royal
maroka proudly describe themselves as royal slaves, and point to the
fact that their ancestors held titles as royal musicians under earlier kings.
It seems that there is at least a core of such maroka hereditarily attached
to the throne. The kings musical troupe is also peculiar in containing
one marokiya (female praiser), who formerly had the title of Boroka in
Zaria, but is nowadays known as Zabiya (the guinea-hen) from the
shrill ululating sound which it is her function to let out at odd moments,
such as during the kings address to his assembled subjects after Sallah.
Other specialized musical functions in the royal troupe include blowing
on the long silver horns or shorter wooden ones, playing on the taushe
(a small hemispherical drum), and singing the royal praises in Fulani,
the last being the task of maroka recruited from among the Bombadawa
Fulani. Royal maroka are in constant attendance at the palace, and
1 Nketia 19636, ch. 10; cf. E. L . R. Meyerowitz, Akan Traditions of Origin,
London, 1952, pp. 19-20. Similar musical groups are found in the retinues of
other Ghanaian chiefs (e.g. Ga, Adangme, or Ewe), charged with the duty of
performing praise chants as well as processional and dancing music (Nketia
1962, pp. 18-19).
1 Da Cruz 1954, p. 12, ch. 3.

86

Poetry

announce the arrival o f distinguished visitors such as the Resident,

Divisional Officer, District Chiefs, and the like, by trumpet fanfares,
drumming, and shouting. They also salute the king on the Sabbath eve
and nightly during the annual fast o f Ramadan, when the royal drums
(tambari) are regularly played. T h e kings maroka address no one except
their master, unless to herald visitors into his presence. They are allo
cated compounds, farm-lands, and titles by the king, who may also
give them horses and frequently provides them with clothes, money, or
assistance at weddings as well as with fo o d .. . . As befits their position,
the royal maroka are unique within the state and work only as a team.1
In spite o f differences in status and medium o f expression,
there are obvious similarities in the positions of all these court
poets. T h e y all depended on royal or chiefly patronage, given them
in an official capacity and often im plying exclusive rights over their
services. T h e ir performances were public with the emphasis, it
appears, on their ceremonial functions rather than their enter
tainment value. A nd their audiences were primarily those who
attended either the royal court or state occasions in the royal
capital. T o some extent this typ e o f poetry must also have filtered
down to other levels o f society, w ith every local chief and leader
attem pting to follow the model o f the ruler. But it seems that it
was at th e centre that court poetry and music were cultivated in
their m ost specialized and exclusive form.
M an y o f these court poets seem to have been true professionals
in the sense that they gained their livelihood from their art. T h eir
official position at court presum ably gave them a share in the
greater lu xu ry and leisure o f court life, though the degree must
have varied from area to area m ore marked, say, in the wealthy
and specialized Hausa emirates than in the kingdoms o f southern
Africa. H owever, the exact econom ic position o f court poets is
obscure. T h e re is little detailed evidence about, for instance, the
relative w ealth o f specialized poet and ordinary subject, or how
1 Smith 1957, p. 31. Nothing has been said about the Interlacustrine Bantu
kingdoms o f East Africa: there is in fact surprisingly little evidence about any
formal office o f court poet(s) there, though the Chadwicks report a personal
communication by Roscoe about a chief at the Ganda royal court responsible
for the recitation in poetical form of royal genealogies (Chadwicks iii, 1940,
p. 576; cf. also J. Roscoe, The Baganda, London, 1911, p. 35). It is possible that
some of the functions of court poets, such a3 adding pomp and ceremony to the
kings public appearances, were in East Africa fulfilled by musical performances
with less stress on the verbal element, e.g. by the Ganda royal drummers
described in Roscoe, op. cit., pp. 25 ff., etc.

Poetry and Patronage

87

far court poets could count on steady economic support as distinct

from occasional lavish gifts. T h e whole subject merits further
investigation.
T h e question o f specialized training is also not very clear. Th at
apprenticeship in some sense was involved is obvious, but this
was probably sometimes o f an informal kind, perhaps particularly
when, as with the Hausa or the Yoruba, there was some hereditary
tendency. In. the case o f highly specialized skills, however, there
must also be a certain amount o f quite formal training. T h is is so
with Ashanti players o f the speaking drums,1 for instance," the
Fang mvet singers,2 or the highly specialized bards o f Ruanda.
It is worth considering the Rwanda school o f poetry and its
com plex corporation o f poets in some detail. T h e y are among the
few official poets o f A frica whose life and learning have been
described at all fully and they provide a striking instance o f the
specialized and learned artistic tradition which can develop in a
once-termed simple* society.*
In the highly centralized traditional kingdom o f Ruanda, the
royal poets had their ow n association and were officially recognized
as holding a privileged position within the state. T h e y were in
charge o f the delivery and preservation o f the dynastic poems
whose main object was to exalt the king and other members o f the
royal line. T h is was only one branch among the three main types
o f Rwanda poetry (dynastic, military, and pastoral) which corre
sponded to the three pivots o f their society (king, warrior, and
cattle). It was in turn divided into three sub-types, different genres
through which the kings praises could be declaimed.
A court poet was known as vm usizi w'Utnwdmi (dynastic poet
o f the king). T h is category included a number o f poets, both those
w ith the inspiration and skill to compose original works, and those
(the bards) who confined themselves to learning and reciting the
compositions o f others. T h e court poets have always had their
own association the Umutwe w 'Abasizi, band o f dynastic poets*
comprising those families officially recognized as poetic. T h e
office o f president o f this band, the In tib ey 'A b isizi, was previously
restricted to a member o f the clan that was first traditionally
associated with the profession o f poet. M ore recently the president
has been the most conspicuous o f the royal poets, a role that has
1 Nketia 19636, pp. 156-7.
1 Towo-Atnngana 1965, p. 172.
> H ie account here is based mainly on Kagama 19516, esp. pp. as ft.

88

Poetry

tended over the last few generations to become a hereditary one.

T h e president had the responsibility o f organizing the poetry
officially needed by the royal court for any particular occasion,
including both ceremonial affairs and discussions on points o f
tradition. T h is he was in a position to do because o f the attach
ment of a number o f official poets to the court. Each o f the recog
nized families o f the poetic association had to be permanently
represented there, if not by a creative poet, at least by a bard
capable o f reciting the poems particularly known by that group.
In the reign of Y u h i V Musinga, for example, there were nine royal
poets holding such official positions, each on duty for a month. In
addition there were a number o f unofficial bards, also members o f
poetic families, who gathered in large numbers around the court
and could be called on if necessary.
Both the poets themselves and the recognized poetic families
had a privileged position in Rwanda society. T h ey held hereditary
rights like exemption from the jurisdiction o f the civil chiefs and
from certain servile duties. T h is applied even to ordinary bards
and individual amateurs so long as th ey were able to recite
certain poems b y heart, they were automatically regarded as direct
servants o f the crown. T h e exact econom ic position o f the official
court poets is not fully described; but the presentation o f a poem
to the king normally earned the gift o f a cow perhaps more and.
in a society in which economic, social, even political worth was
measured in terms of cattle, this was no mean reward.
T h e poems themselves were exceedingly elaborate and sophisti
cated, with a specialized mode of expression mastered only b y the
corporation o f poets and the intelligentsia o f the society. T h e style
was full o f archaisms, obscure language, and highly figurative
forms o f expression.1 T h e sort o f sentiments and phraseology
involved, elevating the king as the centre and ideal o f Rwanda
society, can be glimpsed from a few lines extracted from a long
dynastic praise poem o f the im pakanizi genre:
II me vient k lesprit une autre parole du Roi,
Lui Source intarissable, his de la Souveraine,
Je me suis rappeUS que ce Refuge devait introniser un Roi,
Lequel deviendrait lobjet de mes hommages d&s quinvesti.
Cf. Kagame 19516, pp. 14 ff. on the three main types of figurative language
which he designates, respectively, as lynortymique, homonymtque, and m4Umy~
mique.

Poetry and Patronage

II ny a pas depoque ou Ic Rwanda ncprouve des pcrplexites,

O Artisan-des-lances, souche du Chef des Armees:
Personne ne jugcra a l'encontre de ta decision.
En ce jour-la des preparatifs minutieux,
O Empoigncur-darc, descendance du Svelte,
Ta marche a brulc les etapes accoutumecs.
Un conflit armc dans le palais meme setait dcclanche,
LIrreprochable scul luttant en personne,
Nous, hommes, la terre faillit nous cngloutir vivants. . . .'

89

T h e poems are clearly the conscious product o f a learned and

specialist intellectual tradition.
T h e skilled and separate nature o f this poetry is further evident
from the existence of specialist training, particularly in the skill of
recitation. Am ong the Rwanda, somewhat unusually, part of the
production o f their oral literature was through memorization of
received versions of the poems, and the attribution o f personal
authorship was the rule rather than the exception. T h e praise
poem s were often repeated b y bards with little change from one
occasion to the next, and there seems to have been a conscious
effort to preserve the exact words of the text. From an early age,
children o f the recognized poetic families had to learn poems by
heart. Though this took place within the fam ily, at first at least,
it w as under the general supervision o f the president o f the
association o f poets w ho was ultimately responsible. Local repre
sentatives o f the president called frequent gatherings in the open
air at which the youths o f the privileged poets fam ilies exhibited
their art in recitation. T h o se who showed themselves to good
advantage were given a reward by their fam ily, perhaps even a
cow as recompense de felicitation. In this w ay future court poets
and reciters underwent a long and rigorous apprenticeship, one
necessary both for the mastery o f the actual poem s already extant
and for acquiring the vocabulary, imagery, and subject-matter
w hich formed the traditional basis of any future opmposition.
In Ruanda then w e see the development o f a strikingly special
ized class o f court poetry, one designed not for everyday reci
tation to the people at large, but for performance among other
members of this specialist group, and, above all, for the king
himself. T h e royal court was the centre o f patronage in fact in
m ost important genres o f Rwanda poetry the court held a near
1 Ibid., pp. 117-18.

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Poetry

monopoly and the Rwanda assumed it to be basic to the produc

tion o f specialist poetry, being both its central stimulus and its
most valued context.
Clearly not all African court poetry took so highly specialized
and restricted a form . But it can serve as an extreme instance o f
one important type o f patronage for the poet in traditional A frica.
It must be added, however, that this particular patronage the
royal court is in m any areas increasingly a thing o f the past. T h is
is not because o f any decline o f interest in poetry or in praise, for
both continue to flourish in different contexts and with new
patrons. Praise poems crop up as flattery o f political leaders or
party candidates, and can be heard on the radio or at political
meetings; they can be seen in written form in newspapers; and
they even appear under the auspices o f commercial recording
companies. But often the older royal courts with their official
retinues and monopoly of the most highly professionalized poetry
have become less attractive as political and economic centres, and
many o f the traditional court poets have either abandoned their
art or turned to other more lucrative patrons.I
II

Unlike court patronage, religious patronage in Africa is rela

tively lim ited. Islam , it is true, has in certain areas played a potent
role in the stimulation o f verse on religious and historical topics.
But this has not been through the direct patronage o f an organized
church so m uch as through the historical association o f Islam w ith
Arabic culture in general, so that Islam ic scholars were also some
times engaged in the transmission within their own societies o f
local compositions based on Arabic m odels.1 Th ese were prim arily
designed for the academic few, qualified by learning to produce
or appreciate such pieces, and w ere often written down, though
wider dissemination in other spheres o f society sometimes took
place orally. A m ong such peoples as the Swahili, Fulani, or H ausa
it appears that such composers held honoured positions (and pre
sum ably also economic resources) prim arily because o f their
Koranic learning, their association w ith royal courts, or, in some
cases their noble birth.2
1 For further comments on Islamic religious poetry see beIow,Ch.7,pp. 168-57.
1 e.g. the Cameroons Fulani modibbo, who was at once an official writer, a
narrator, and a court poet (Mohamadou 1963, p. 68).

Poetry and Patronage

91

Ethiopia is one important exception. Here there is a long history

o f patronage of the arts by the Coptic Christian Church. This
includes a vast amount o f literature which, being in every sense
a written one, falls outside the scope o f this book. T h ere was also,
however, a certain amount o f oral ecclesiastical poetry by the
dabteras or professional religious poets. JBesides long written poems
their work also included oral compositions like extemporized
hym ns at church festivals and similar occasions. T h eir most
famous product was the qene, a short witty poem, highly artificial,
o f w hich there were said to be at least ten different types. These
w ere marked by great obscurity o f style, extreme condensation,
delight in the use o f puns, and an abundance o f metaphors and
religious allusions. In keeping with their highly specialized nature
the qene demanded prolonged intellectual training for their mastery,
and we hear of schools o f rhetoric designed to train poets in the
art o f qene composition. W e m ay also suppose that their audiences
w ere correspondingly restricted. Indeed it seems to be the other
important class o f professional Ethiopian poets, the non-religious
asmaris, who were found among all classes o f society and thus
reached wider audiences,' while the dabteras preserved their
specialist and intellectual type of versification.
M ore recently, Christian missions have made their contribution
to the encouragement o f oral literature. As yet, this seems mainly
to be o f the more or less extempore type a worshipper declaim
ing or leading the singing in the course o f a service and has
probably not produced any highly specialized poets.2 But much
more may yet come o f this type o f religious patronage, and it is
possible that this m ight be one o f the growing points in the further
development of oral literature in Africa.3
A part from the patronage o f these larger religious movements,
w e also find poetry evoked b y more localized cults. T h is is particu
larly marked in the non-Islam ic parts o f West A frica where there
are specialized cults to the deities o f the various W est African
pantheons. Priests o f some o f the gods among, say, the Yoruba o f
Nigeria or Fon o f D ahom ey seem to be fully professional, and
1 Chadwicks iii, 1940, pp. 524 ff.
1 Or so it seems from the sources. But much more investigation needs to be
made of the role o f the local preacher in this respect (and o f course in the
sphere of oratory many o f these preachers make their own contributions to oral
art week after week).
* C f. Ch. 7, pp. 184 ff.

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Poetry

sometimes to have undergone many years o f training. T h is is true

in particular of the priests o f Ifa (described in Chapter 7) who
spend at least three years as apprentices learning the lengthy verses
and stories pertaining to this oracle-god. T h e gods each have their
own lengthy and allusive praises which must be mastered by their
priests, who are, it seems, responsible for both their recitation
and, ultimately, their composition. Such professional priests
receive direct or indirect recompense in virtue of their religious
office and in this w ay have a certain amount o f leisure to devote
to the practice o f poetry. However, fully professional priests are
b y no means the rule in these societies; they seem to be more
typical of the highly organized and wealthy kingdoms, like those
o f the Akan, Fon, or Yoruba. But even in these areas priests are
often only part-time experts who also rely on other means o f
subsistence. T h eir relationship to their public is more like that
discussed in section iv below: they are experts w ho only appear on
particular occasions when they display their art in return for
direct reward.
In spite o f some exceptions, one cannot really speak o f religion
as having the same outstanding connection w ith the arts in A frica
as it has sometimes held elsewhere. In terms o f specialization o f
the poets role or o f the complexity o f the verse itself, it does not
seem to be anything like as important as royal and courtly patron
age. T h e interpretation o f poetry which connects it directly with
the religious role o f the seer1 would not, therefore, in its obvious
sense at least, derive much support from the data on oral literature
in Africa.
in
Another large category among oral poets in Africa is that o f the
free-lance specialist, a poet who moves from place to place accord
ing to where he can find a wealthy patron or audience prepared to
reward him in return for his poems. T h is type o f poet may shade
into the official court poet, but even if he spends a certain amount
o f time at the courts he does not hold an official and exclusive
position. H e relies on occasional rather than permanent employ
ment. Such independent professional poets are particularly com
mon in W est Africa, the coastal areas o f East A frica, and Ethiopia,
1 As in N . K . Chadwick, Poetry and Prophecy, Cambridge, 1942.

Poetry and Patronage

93

where both the degree o f specialization and the existence o f rela

tively large quantities o f m ovable wealth from w hich poets can
be subsidized make it feasible for them to gain a livelihood in this
manner. T h e existence o f court poets may actually facilitate the
developm ent of this type o f free-lance professional tradition. Court
poetry is w hat local chicflets or wealthy commoners w ould like to
hear declaimed around them ; and m any o f these w andering singers
and poets have found lucrative patrons in m en w ho w ish to hear
addressed to themselves some semblance o f the praises ultimately
due to the rulers. It is not surprising then to find frequent in
stances o f the coexistence in one society o f both official poets at
court and roving poets in other spheres o f the kingdom . T h is is
true, for instance, of the Hausa roaming singers, th e counterparts
o f the royal praise bands already mentioned. A m ong the Nzakara
o f the Sudan the trained professional poet, a singer accompanying
his w ords on the harp, gains his livelihood either at the court o f
a prince or, alternatively, by m oving from village to village, ready
to vilify a chief who does not entertain him up to th e standard o f
his expectations, or singing the glorious ancestry o f one w ho does.1
Such singers can exploit the hierarchy o f political pow er without
an official permanent attachment to any one individual.
F or these unattached poets, generosity and econom ic resources
are as great an attraction as the political power connected w ith state
office. T h u s where there is a distinction between the distribution
o f wealth and that o f aristocratic political power, the form er may
be a particular focus for poetic activity. W e hear, for instance, o f the
w ealthy but low-born Hausa man w ho is a prey to poets who sing
o f his high descent or at least significantly omit any oblique sug
gestion o f commoner birth* in return for large rewards. Poets
naturally turn to the patronage o f well-off men. In Pemba, an
area in w hich the development o f verse is probably unequalled
along the whole o f the East African coast, there have until recently
been large numbers o f poets, each w ith his band o f pupils, esteemed
and patronized by the wealthy Arab landowners. T h ese poets
lived in or around the main centres or by the clove plantations and
delighted their patrons w ith poems expressed in the traditional
mainland forms on subjects inspired by local events.3 Nowadays
another lucrative source can be found in commercial concerns
1 de Dampierre 1963, p. 17.
* Whiteley 1958.
6151314

1 Smith 1957, p. 31.

H

94

Poetry

record companies and broadcasting in particular and in some

areas these are now becoming a potent if erratic source o f patronage
to the free-lance poets.
T h e poets reliance on their art and their wits for a livelihood
also affects the subject-matter o f their compositions. Overt begging,
innuendo, and even threats towards individual patrons are m uch
more marked a feature o f this poetry than in the praises and occa
sional verse associated with state ceremonials, the normal context
o f the official court poetry. T h e element o f entertainment rather
than formal pom p is perhaps also m ore to the fore. W hatever their
individual m edia, at any rate, it is certain that some o f these poets
have been able to amass large fortunes and have sometimes gained
the general reputation o f being avaricious and mercenary.1 U nlike
court poets, their performances are not at the service o f one ex
clusive patron, and they can move on (or threaten to m ove on) to
another patron w ho is prepared to give them a better price.
It is not surprising that these poets have sometimes been the
object o f fear and suspicion as w ell as o f admiration, and the reward
given to a poet b y his temporary patron m ay seem to be m ore like
a buying off than any positive appreciation o f his talents. T h is
comes out very clearly in, for instance, Sm iths description o f the
arts o f the roving solo singer among the Hausa.1 T h e singer arrives
at a village and finds out the names o f the important and wealthy
individuals in the area. T h en he takes up his stand in public and
calls out the name o f the individual he has decided to apostrophize.
H e proceeds to his praise songs, punctuated by frequent and in
creasingly direct demands for gifts. I f they are forthcom ing in
sufficient quantity he announces the amount and sings His thanks
in further praise. I f not, his innuendo becomes gradually sharper,
his delivery harsher and more staccato. T h is is practically always
effective all the more so as the experienced singer knows the
utility o f choosing a time when all the local people are likely to
be within hearing, in the evening, the early morning before they
have left for the farm, or on the occasion o f a market w hich leaves
no escape for the unfortunate object singled out for these praises.
T h e result o f this public scorn is normally the victims surrender.
H e attempts to silence the singer with gifts o f money or, if he has
1 e.g. among the Khassonke (C. Mom oil, Let Khossonki, Paris, 1915, p. 137)
and VVolof (D. P. Gamble, The Wolof of Senegambia, London, 1957, p. 45).
1 Smith 1957, p. 38.

Poetry and Patronage

95

no ready cash, with clothes or a saleable object like a new hoe.

Similar types o f pressure arc used b y groups of Hausa praise
singers in the towns. H ere they mainly address themselves to the
nouveaux riches, relatively wealthy men like builders, commission
agents, and the larger farmers. People with officially recognized
high status through noble birth, religious position, or high govern
m ent employment are not attacked in this way, but people from
other areas or local people o f low birth are picked on even i f they
are in government pay. Again the declamation begins as praise,
but failure to pay soon leads to a hostile tone. Instead o f laudatory
remarks about his ancestry, prosperity, and political influence, the
victim soon hears innuendo on all these themes, as w ell as deroga
tory references to his occupation, reputation, political integrity
and, o f course, his meanness. There is never open mention o f the
ultimate insult imputation o f ambiguous paternity, but this lies
behind the increasing pressures on the man addressed.1 In view o f
the effectiveness o f this type o f poetic pressure the extraction'of
m oney b y virtual blackmail it is small wonder that attempts have
been made in some Hausa kingdoms recently to forbid or limit the
activities o f these singers.1
. Though there are few other such detailed accounts of the pres
sures o f professional poets, it is clear that this pattern is not un
common in W est A frica. Similar powers have been exercised by
the well-known M ande musicians, for instance, or the Senegalese
griots. T h e forceful w ay in which their counterparts in some o f the
more southerly areas too can sing at a chosen patron has to be seen
to be believed. T h e praisers direct their verses and their music
w ith such vehemence and volume that until they are placated
w ith a gift or b y the intervention o f some recognized authority,
no business can go forward.
From one point o f view the power of free-lance poets can be
increased i f they are regarded as foreign or at any rate set apart
from the patrons to w hom they address themselves. T h is can add
to the fearsome quality o f their words while at the same time
making them free from the obligations which are binding on other
members o f the society. W e find that this is the case w ith some
1 Ibid., p. 39.
1 Ibid., p. 38. That all free-lance poets are not equally conventional, however,
is apparent from Gidleys account of Hausa comedians who satirize and parody
the usual praise songs (Gidley 1967, esp. pp. 64-9).

96

Poetry

free-lance poets in the further western area o f W est Africa. T h e

Mande-speaking musicians sometimes known in West African
English as jeHemen (from Mandingo dyalo) are found (sometimes
as professional, sometimes as part-time experts) throughout a wide
area o f the country outside their original home area. Throughout
this region they exploit their abilities and extract rewards for their
songs from wealthy and powerful families.1
A n even more striking example are the griots of Senegambia,
poets belonging to a special low caste in the society. In view o f the
wide currency o f this word in both French and English, it is worth
saying a little more about the particular poets to whom it refers.
In fact the term griot gives a totally false impression of precision.
Though it was presumably originally a translation of the Fulani
gaottlo (wandering poet or praiser) or W olof gewcl (poet and
musician), it is now popularly used as a term to refer to almost
any kind o f poet or musician throughout at least the Frenchspeaking areas o f W est Africa.2 In the process it has acquired a
kind o f quasi-technical ring which, it seems, is felt to absolve
those using it from any further detailed description o f the status
o f these artists. But clearly not all poets throughout this wide area
answer to the more precise description o f the term: they do not
all belong to special castes and are not necessarily regarded as o f
inferior status.2
Those that concern us here, the poets o f Senegambia and o f the
W estern Fulani, were so regarded, however. Am ong the various
castes into which society was divided, those o f the poets and
musicians came near the bottom. T h e y were thus set apart from
1 Cf. Zemp 1964. I came across a number of these musicians in northern
Sierra Leone in 1961 plying their trade in the non-Mandingo communities of
the country, as did Laing over a century earlier (A. G . Laing, Travels in the
Timamtee, Kooranko and Soolima Countries, London, 1825, pp. 132-3).
* It has also been suggested that the term is connected with the Arabic
oawuial (narrator of the Soufi sect) (by D . S. Blair in B. Diop, Tales of Amadou
Kournba (Eng. tr.), London, 1966, p. xix). It apparently first entered French
through the early French travellers to Senegal in the eighteenth century (see
Zemp 1964, p. 375), and, as is well known, has since been taken up by the
Nigritude French literary movement. But a full study of the history and usage
of this word in European languages, let alone its referents in West Africa, seems
never to have been made (though see the discussion in Colin 1957, ch. 3; Rouget
n.d., pp. 225-7) and should be well worth pursuing.
1 In particular this seems not to apply to the authors of Muslim poetry, who,
among some of the Fulani at least, tend to be o f noble birth (Ba 1950, pp. 173-4;
Lacroix i, 1965, pp. 31,35-6). See also Belinga 1965, pp. 1 z6ff. on the mb6m-mvet
of Cameroun.

P oetry and Patronage

97

those to whom they addressed themselves and not unexpectedly

m et w ith a somewhat ambiguous attitude among other members
o f society at once feared, despised, and influential. Som e o f
these Senegambian griots specialized in shouting praises and re
citing genealogies and had some kind o f attachment to the various
freeborn lineages; others sang praises of chiefs and leading men
at public functions and could gain great influence with local rulers.
Traditionally a W olof gew d had the power to insult anyone and,
as in other areas, could switch to outspoken abuse if no sufficient
reward was forthcoming. T h e ir membership o f the special poetic
caste gave them impunity, so that together with their low status
they at the same time had freedom from the sanctions that deterred
other members o f society from open insult o f their fellows. Here
too some legal attempts have been made to limit their power, and
it is significant that as the old caste system breaks down, thus in a
sense raising the low status o f the poet, this brings w ith it a de
crease in his previous power to mock with im punity.1
T h e free-lance professionals clearly have more scope than the
court poets, who are exclusively employed, as it were, b y the state.
T h e poet can, indeed must, think about himself as well as his
patron; he can more easily vary conventional styles and motifs
than his official counterpart. Th ere is no premium on verbal
accuracy or even near accuracy as in the case o f some o f the
politically sanctioned court poetry, and there is not the distinction
between reciter and composer that was just discernible in some of
the court poetry discussed. T h e audiences, too, tend to be wider,
and there is a corresponding lack o f a highly specialized or esoteric
style. T h e public is still chosen from among the wealth and
powerful, but depends m ore on entertainment and on com
munication and less on formal pomp.
It is through poets like these that the poetry o f a certain culture
can become diffused over a w ide area, even one covering different
sub-cultures and languages. For instance, one o f the characteristic
results of the professional free-lance poets (azmaris) in Ethiopia
> For some further details o f this rather complex organization in Senegambia
see Gamble, op. cit., esp. p. 45; O. Silla, 'Persistence dcs castes dans la socit
wolof contemporaine, Bull. IF A N (B) 28, 1966, esp. pp. 764-7; in HautS ln lgal and Niger, M. Delafosse, Haut-SM gal-Niger, Paris, 1912, vol. iii,
pp. 117-18; for the Toucouleur o f Senegal, A. B. Diop, S o ciiti toucouleur et
migration, Dakar, 1965, pp. 23 ff- A useful bibliography is given in H. Zemp,
'L a ligende des griots malinkd, Cah. itud. afr. 24, 1966.

98

Poetry

was that poets were found everywhere, from the courts to the
poorer houses, to the roads, or to public gatherings, commenting on
their audiences or on local events, a kind o f gazette chm tante in
their reflection of contemporary public opinion. T h eir persons
were sacrosanct and they were received honourably everywhere.
In the opinion o f the Chadwicks it was this which to a large extent
led to the uniformity o f Ethiopian poetry.1 T h e same general
point holds good for certain areas o f W est Africa. In parts o f
Senegambia, Guinea, and Sierra Leone, the cultural uniformities
stretching over a wide area o f differing societies and languages can
be put down in part to the long history o f wandering poets who
could apparently travel unmolested even in wartime.2 Such poets
give an international as well as a national currency to the con
ventions o f their poetry in a w ay that formally appointed court
poets or localized experts could never have done.
xv
So far w e have been dealing w ith professionals or semi-pro
fessionals, those who are known first and foremost as poets and
who depend primarily on their art. B ut there are also m any less
specialized poets to consider. T h ese practitioners are sometimes
found coexisting with their more professional colleagues, but they
also sometimes appear as the most skilled proponents o f the poetic
art in cultures which, as in m any o f the traditionally uncentralized
societies o f Africa, do not possess full-tim e literary specialists. A t
these less professional levels wom en are often mentioned. Certain
kinds o f poetry are typically delivered or sung by women (particu
larly dirges, lullabies, mocking verses, and songs to accompany
womens ceremonies or work), and each culture is likely to have
certain genres considered specially suitable for women.1 However,
references to men seem to occur even more often and, w ith a few
striking exceptions,4 men rather than women tend to be the bearers
o f the poetic tradition.
1 Chadwicks iii, 1940, p. 525.
* See S. H. Walker, Mution in Western Africa, Dublin, 1845, p. 14.
> e.g. the Fon wives' choruses praising chiefs (M. J. Hcrskovits, Dahomey,
New York, 1938, vol. ii, p. 322), the Hottentot sarcastic reed songs' (T . Hahn,
Ttuni-\\Goam, the Supreme Being of the Khoi-Khoi, London, 1881, p. 28),
Somali buraambur (Andrzejewski and Lewis 1964, p. 49), or certain named
dancing songs at Limba memorial ceremonies.
4 Notably the Tuareg (see Chadwicks iii, 1940, pp. 658 ff.).

Poetry and Patronage

99

V ery often these poets earn their living in some other way,
supplementing their incomes by their art. At times the poets main
reward may be in terms o f honour rather than o f more tangible
goods, but usually some material return is forthcoming from his
audience or temporary patron. These poets are often not equally
expert in the w hole field o f oral art. Usually a poet becomes known
for his exposition o f a single genre o f sung or spoken verse, one
perhaps associated w ith a particular occasion when the poet-singer
comes forward from the mass of his fellows to exhibit his art.
W ithin this general category there arc naturally many different
degrees o f expertise. Some poets hold a relatively specialized
status, differing only in degree from that o f the professionals dis
cussed earlier. T h is seems to be true o f some o f the West African
poets usually jum ped together under the general name o f griot, 1
or the non-professional poets o f the Somali who build up an
entourage of admirers in competition with others and hear their
poems transmitted further by reciters who learn them by heart.2
It is also true, although to a lesser degree, o f the Luo nyatiti (lyre)
player who generally acts as an entertainer in this uncentralized
society o f East A frica. A s we have some detailed evidence) about
these particular singers, it is worth giving a fairly full description
to illustrate the kind o f part the poet may play in such a society.
T h e great forte o f the L uo nyatiti singer is the lament song.
Funerals are celebrated on a grand scale and one essential part is
the songs o f the nyatiti player. H e needs no special invitation for
he is always welcom e once the noise and bustle of the actual
burial have subsided. From the singers point of view there are
various reasons w h y he puts in an appearance: he may come from
sorrow at the loss o f a friend or relative; to do his duty to a neigh
bour; to take advantage o f the food and drink profusely available
at funerals; and finally a not insignificant motive to make
m oney from a large and admiring audience (here he may have
to contend w ith a rival). H e takes up his stance, singing at the top
o f his voice to the accompaniment o f his lyre and the rattling o f
his ankle-bells. H e sweats profusely with the effort, and consumes
vast quantities o f beer. Before him lies a plate into which those
who accost him can drop their pennies. H e is frequently called on
to sing about the dead person, and, in preparation for this, he has
1 e.g. some of the Ivory Coast singers mentioned in Zemp 1964.
* Andrzejewski and Lewis 1964, pp. 4, 44-6.
1 Anyumba 1964.

1 00

Poetry

a tune ready from his normal repertoire w hich can be modified to

suit the occasion. He adds an uncle here and a grandfather there,
together with any knowledge he may possess o f the attributes o f
the deceased.. . . T h e skill and beauty w ith which the musician is
able to improvise at such moments is a measure o f his musical and
poetic stature. 1
These songs, involving the arts both o f composition and o f
performance, are in fact usually soon forgotten after serving the
purpose of the moment. Others, however, arise from more studied
composition in preparation for the funeral. T h is is usually when
the singer himself is deeply moved b y the death or has some
specially close link with the deceased. Here he creates a new song.
H e must consider and weigh up both the suitable melodic patterns
and also the words and names to go with them. T h e process takes
time and concentration, but the tune itself sometimes comes to the
singer at an inspired moment. After some trials on his lyre, he
then, on the actual occasion, sings w ith so m uch intensity and
meaning that large gifts are showered on him. Indeed the song may
gain such favour that he is begged to sing it later by his fans
and, after the due deposit o f a few coins on his plate, he agrees. B y
then the song being freed from the solem nity o f a funeral may rove
from the fate o f a particular, individual to that o f other people,
and finally to the mystery o f death itself.*
I f the nyatiti singers prime function is that o f the lament, his
art also extends to other spheres and occasions. H e is called on to
praise friends or relatives, to recount his personal experiences, to
exalt kindness, hospitality, or courage, and to comment on current
affairs. In all these he is judged by the degree to which he can
unite the art of the musician/performer and that of the poet/composer; he is judged as much by his skill on the instrument as by
his ability to weave a story or meditate on human experience. In
this lies the real fascination o f the nyatiti player.*
This account o f the nyatiti singer illustrates the kind o f role
which the part-time poet/musician can play in a non-literate
society. H is art is practised partly to fulfil social obligations and
to share in ceremonies w hich are also open to others, but also
partly for direct material reward. Some o f his performances arise
out of the ceremonial occasion itself, with his audience directly
involved in the occasion; but others, particularly those b y the
* Anyumba 1964, pp. 189-90.

* Ibid., p. 190.

* Ibid., pp. 187-8.

Poetry and Patronage

ioi

most skilled singers, are specifically given at the request o f

admirers w ho patronize him and reward his performance. Finally,
there are some occasions (and for some singers these m ay be in
the majority) when the song produced is uninspired and stale, in
spite o f cleverly introduced modifications; while on other occasions
the song is the product, and recognized as such, o f the truly
creative imagination o f the singer.
T h e position of the poet in m any other A frican societies is
unfortunately not often described in even the detail given in
A nyum bas short article.1 B ut it seems that the position and con
ditions o f m any o f the more expert (but non-professional) poets
are not unlike those o f the L u o nyatiti singer. W e frequently meet
the same kind of balance between the social and the profit motive,
the m ore and the less specifically artistic occasion, the greater
and lesser personal inspiration o f the poet.
O ther African poets, however, have less general recognition than
L u o singers. But there are still m any specific occasions when they
can exhibit their poetic skills. O ne frequent context is at meetings
o f the specialized associations characteristic o f m any parts o f W est
A frica. T h e Yoruba, Akan, and others have hunters societies each
w ith their own special hunting songs. These are performed on fes
tive occasions, at funerals o f m embers of the group, and at other
meetings o f the association. T h e poets are there in their capacity as
hunters, but one aspect o f their craft, for some members at least, is
skill in poetic composition and performance.1 Th ese very part-time
poets, then, are patronized b y fellow-hunters and also at times b y the
public at large, as when the Y o ru b a ijala poet is specially invited
to perform as a general entertainer on non-hunting occasions.
Sim ilar connections between specialist association and a specific
genre o f poetry exist among the Akan military associations, cults
o f particular deities among the Y o ru b a and others, secret societies,
local churches, and some o f the more form ally organized co
operative work groups. In all these cases the prim ary context is
that o f the association, and the poet is fulfilling his social obligations
as a m em ber (though he m ay acquire a material profit in addition);
special performances to w ider audiences or for more direct reward
seem to be secondary and in m any cases not to occur at all.
T h e various crucial points in the human life cycle also provide
1 But see the excellent description of Yoruba ijala singers in Babalpla 1966,
esp. ch. 4.
1 For examples and further discussion see Ch. 8, pp. 224-6.

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P oetry

contexts for festivity and thus for artistic performance. Occasions

such as initiations, weddings, or funerals provide fertile stimuli for
poetic exhibition. Here again the range is wide from occasions
when those most intim ately involved sing ju st as part o f their
general social obligations in the ceremony, to special appearances
o f fam ous artists or bands. E ven within one society, different
rituals m ay have different degrees o f expertise considered appro
priate to them. A good exam ple o f this can be seen in the contrast
between the initiation ceremonies o f boys and o f girls among the
Lim ba. A n important 'part o f the boys ceremony consists o f the
all-night session during w hich the boys must demonstrate their
skill and endurance in the dance before hundreds o f interested
spectators. A number o f singer-drummers must be present. Th ere
fore th e best (part-time) artists in the boys village or group of
villages are called on to attend and are booked several weeks in
advance. T h e y receive num erous small monetary gifts during their
performance, and the am ount earned, when all the several con
tributions from the boys relatives and the audience are counted
up, m ay come to as m uch as a fifth or quarter o f the average
labourers wage for a month. B y contrast the girls ceremony is a
less celebrated affair. T h e singers are merely those w ho are in any
case directly involved in the occasion, with no special reward due
to them for their songs. O ther Lim ba occasions provide yet
another contrast. In their large-scale memorial rituals the most
fam ous singers in the whole chiefdom area or beyond are begged
to come to display their specialist art; they usually have no direct
relationship to the principals in the ceremony or if they have
this is irrelevant but take tim e off from their everyday pursuits
to attend as specialists in return for the very large gifts their hosts
undertake to provide.
In some areas weddings are occasions for m uch singing and
dancing, sometimes b y those directly involved, sometimes by
specially invited, expert teams. T h u s Hausa weddings, elaborate
and com plex affairs, require the presence o f specialist maroka
teams. These are independent and unattached bands who gain
their livelihood partly from their craft and partly from subsistence
farm ing.1 T h e y attend weddings largely for profit, and they are
the principal beneficiaries o f the costly gifts that are made publicly
on these occasions.
1 Smith 1957, pp. 30-1, 32.

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103

T h e kind o f performance that can take place at funerals

another common context for poetry has already been illustrated
from the case o f the L uo lament singer. A rather different type is
provided b y the Akan dirge Singers. Every Akan woman is ex
pected to have some competence in the dirge, and though some
singers are considered more accomplished than others, neverthe
less every woman mourner at a funeral is expected to sing or run
the risk o f strong criticism, possibly even suspicion o f complicity
in the death.1 T h u s they perform as part o f their general social
responsibilities and their audiences hear and admire their per
formances as one aspect o f the funeral rituals which they are
attending, rather than as a specialist aesthetic occasion which
demands direct recompense to the artist. Y e t that even this rela
tively low degree o f specialization can result in elaborate literary
compositions, valued alike for their aesthetic merits and their
social functions, should be clear from the detailed account o f
these dirges given b y Nketia.*
Besides such occasional poetry at the crucial points in the life
cycle, there are other contexts in w hich the element o f entertain
ment is foremost. Sometimes these actually hinge on organized
competitions b y poets, as used to b e the case in several areas o f
East Africa. In Tanganyika, for instance, two singers o f the same
type of song, each leading his own group o f members, sometimes
decide to compete on an agreed day. In the interval they teach
their followers new songs o f their own composition. T h en on the
day the tw o groups sing in turn at a little distance from each other.
T h e victor is the singer who draws the greatest number o f specta
tors to his side. Sometimes these competitions are arranged b y the
Sultan w ho also acts as umpire between the two insulting sides
for insults are also in order, and as each side has taken the trouble
to find out their opponents songs in advance, they have prepared
suitably sarcastic replies to them.3 In other types o f entertainment,
the element o f competition is absent and the emphasis is on the
skill and expertise with which the artists make their specialized
contribution to the occasion. A t social gatherings among the Ila
and T o n ga o f Zam bia, for instance, a woman who is skilled in the
1 Nketia 1955, p. 18.
* Nketia 1955 (summarized in Ch. 6 below).
Koritschoncr 1937, pp. 57-9; see also the Pemba competitions mentioned
in Whiteley 1958, and the rather different Somali use of poetic combat as a
means of publicity in war and peace (B. W . Andrzejewski and M. H. I. Galaal,
*A Somali Poetic Combat*, J . AJr. Languages 2, 1963).

io4

Poetry

special type o f solo termed impango stands up and sings from her
own personal repertoire. I f she has close friends or relatives pre
sent, they too stand up to praise her song and present her with
small gifts like tobacco or a sixpence.1 Som e o f the W est African
entertainments draw on more complex teams, with singer,
drummers, and sometimes wind-instruments like the Hausa
teams who sometimes play for the young peoples recreational
associations,2 or the A kan popular bands w ho perform for pure
entertainment, often for dancing in the evenings. T h eir purpose
is social and recreational, but they make some econom ic profit from
their performances.3
T h is discussion of the various occasions and forms of poetry
finally brings us to the times when there is practically no degree
o f specialization at all. T h is is particularly true o f certain general
categories o f song in any society in work songs,4 childrens verse,
lullabies, or the chorus parts o f antiphonal songs. There are also
the times when every m em ber o f a society (or every member who
falls into a certain category) is expected to have some competence
in certain types o f verse. Sotho boys, for instance, were all re
quired to demonstrate proficiency in praise poetry as part of their
initiation ceremonies, and had to declaim the praises o f their own
achievements and expectations before the crowd gathered to
welcome them after their seclusion;5 while am ong some o f the
Zambian peoples a young man had to sing a song o f his own com
position on the occasion o f his marriage.6 N ot all contexts are as
formal as this. W e hear o f the N uer youth leading his favourite ox
round the kraal in the evenings, in pride and jo y, leaping before
it and singing its praises, or, again, o f young N u er or Dinka boys
chanting their songs in the lonely pastures;7 the lullabies which
mothers in numberless societies sing to their babies; the spon
taneous outburst o f song over a pot o f palm wine or millet beer in
a Ghanaian village; the lyrics sung by Som ali lorry drivers to
shorten the tedium of their long journeys;8 or the ability o f the
* Jones 1943, P-
* Smith 1957, p. 37.
2 Nketia 19636, ch. 6, p. 157.
4 Though even there the common African practice of balancing soloist and
chorus gives scope for a certain degree of expertise by the leader.
2 Laydevant 1930, p. 524.
6 A. M. Jones 1943, p. 11.
7 E. E. Evans-Pritchard, The Nuer, Oxford, 1940, pp. 46 ff.; G . Lienhardt,
Divinity and Experience, the Religion o f the Dinka, Oxford, 1961, pp. 13, 18 f.
* Andrzejewski 1967, p. 12.

Poetry and Patronage

105

Congolese M abale, or Rhodesian Shonn, or W est African Lim ba,

or countless others to join in the choruses o f songs led b y their
more expert fellows. In all these cases poetic facility has become
no longer a specialist activity, but one which in some degree or
other all individuals in the society are expected to have as a uni
versal skill.
It would clearly be impossible to relate all the occasions and
audiences that there arc for poetry, or all the roles that can be
played by the African poet. But enough has been said to show that
it is not only in societies in w hich there is courtly, aristocratic, or
religious patronage, or marked cleavages o f wealth or power, that
the poet finds opportunity to exercise his skills. Th ere are many
egalitarian societies too, often those with little specialism in any
sphere o f life, in which nevertheless poetry can flourish like the
Ibo, the Somali, the N ilotic peoples c.' the Sudan, and many
others. It is true that it docs seem to be in court poetry, and
occasionally in religious poetry, that w e find the highest degree o f
specialism, and the longest and, in a sense, most intellectual poems.
But they do not necessarily reflect a more sensitive understanding
o f language and o f experience than, say, a Dinka youths praise of
his ox, w hich to him represents both his own role and the whole
world o f beauty around him ,1 a lyric to accompany the dance, or
the lullaby in which an Akan mother verbalizes her jo y in her
child in the world she knows:
Someone would like to have you for her child
But you are my own.
Someone wished she had you to nurse you on agood mat;
Someone wished you were hers: she would put you on a camel blanket;
But I have you to rear you on a torn mat.
Someone wished she had you, but I have you.2
v
W e have assumed that there is a conjunction, characteristic of
oral poetry, between the performer and the composer. It is often
futile, therefore, to ask about the circulation o f a particular piece
for those who circulate it are themselves poets o f a kind and make
their contributions and modifications. It may be that many o f them
are not particularly good or original poets even in terms o f their
1 Francis Deng in G. Lienhardt 1963, p. 828.

1 Nketia 19586, p. 18.

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Poetry

own culture, and make more o f a contribution to the performance

than to the composition. B ut the fact remains that this too is an
essential part of the poetic skill o f the oral practitioner, and that
poem s cannot reach their public without the interposition o f such
artists.
T h ere are, however, a few exceptions to the join t role o f the
poet w hich should be mentioned in conclusion. In some o f the
m ost highly specialized or technically complex poetry Rwanda
dynastic poetry, Yoruba Ifa literature, or Somali gabay reciters
m ay be distinguished from creative poets: the former are respon
sible for transmitting the poem s o f others, and for preserving
the authoritative tradition for political or religious m otives. T h u s
even i f in fact the reciter docs m odify a poem, this aspect is played
down and the poem is supposed to be merely transmitted by
reciters in the traditional form. T h u s certain poems m ay circulate
in their own right, sometimes even with named authors (as in
Ruanda or Somaliland).
A nother and very different class o f poems where performance
m ay be so much to the fore that the element o f composition seems
to vanish is that o f dance songs, work songs, or songs accompany
ing childrens games. Here the song is merely the background to
some other activity, and repetition of known verses is more
noticeable than poetic originality. Songs of this kind can become
popular and spread over a w ide area with incredible speed, to be
supplanted after a time by new ones. Y et, as w ill appear in later
chapters, even in these cases there can be modification and addi
tions either in the musical aspects or in the words. E ven if, for
instance, the chorus remains m ore or less the same so that a super
ficial observer may be pardoned for considering it just another
performance of the same old song, the soloist w ho leads the song
and supplies the verses m ay in fact be making his own original
musical and verbal contribution.
A m ore accurate case o f the true circulation o f a poem inde
pendently o f its composer is to be found in the areas where the
existence o f writing has led to the concept o f a correct version which,
can b e copied or learnt in an exact form. For indigenous African
verse the writing is most often in Arabic script, and we find as
in Swahili, Hausa, or Fulani a tradition both of the circulation
o f definitive versions o f poems and o f remembering the original
authors by name. Such poems m ay also circulate by oral means,

Poetry and Patronage

107

for actual literacy is often confined to the few, hut they differ from
fully oral compositions in that the roles of composer and reciter
can be clearly distinguished.
In many cases it is difficult to assess how much emphasis should
be laid on the two aspects o f composition and o f delivery. It is not
easy to tell, for instance, how far the verse in any single instance
is the product just of a performer reproducing well-known and
prescribed form s with little contribution of his own, and how far
it can also be put down to the arts o f the creative poet; or how
much one can attribute to the stimulation and participation o f the
audience or the emotion o f the occasion itself. M any investigators
have particularly emphasized the aspect of the second-hand repro
ducing o f known traditional form s; and this interpretation has o f
course been especially popular with those very impressed by the
concepts o f communal creation or o f the typical poem and so on.
In African literature one can o f course encounter both the
second-rate technician and the inspired artist oral art is no
exception in this. But when the role o f the poet or singer is analysed
in some detail, w e arc left wondering whether creative composition
(either the spontaneous creation o f the accomplished and sensitive
artist or conscious long-drawn-out composition in preparation for
later display) m ay not be rather more important than is often
realized; and w e may suspect that the playing down o f this factor
may be due as m uch to lack o f investigation as to any basis in the
facts. W ithout Anyum bas analysis, for instance, w e could hardly
appreciate the care and consciou's art with which some L uo singers
sometimes compose their songs, and would be more likely, in
a common search for the typical lament o f the Luo, to omit any
consideration o f the individuality o f the inspired L uo poet. T h e
actual circumstances of composition and the personality and skill
o f individual poets deserve fuller consideration than they have yet
received.1
T o others, as to me, this chapter must seem unbearably sketchy
and impressionistic. A few o f the points raised are explored a little
further in later chapters which deal with some o f the different
genres o f poetry and their exponents in various cultures. B ut the
For some further remarks on composition see Ch. 9, pp. 266 ff. A partial
exception, with the main emphasis on the musical aspect, is Nketias African
Music in Ghana, 1962. See also (besides references given earlier) Lacroix 1965
(on Adamawra Fulani), de Dampierre 1963 (Nzakara), Andrzejewski and Lewis
1964 (Somali), Babalola 1966 (Yoruba).

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Poetry

main reason for the gaps is ignorance, not lack o f space. T h is

must be in part because I have not read far enough in the sources
to discover the answers to many of the questions I want to raise.
But it is also that such factors as the general position o f the poet,
his poetic training, his economic situation, his relation to his
audience, his patron, other poets, or the general culture o f his
time, his modes of composition and inspiration all these have
seemed to be of little interest to investigators, even those who have
published excellent accounts o f other aspects o f oral literature.
W e know enough to be able to guess at the variety that can be found
and that the simplicist pictures we opened with are not sufficient;
but in practically no A frican society have these points been fully
explored. T h is is the sphere above all in which there is the widest
need and scope for further investigation.

A N O T E O N E P I C '*
E p ic is often assumed to be the typical poetic form of non-literate
peoples, or at least of non-literate peoples at a certain stage. Surpris
ingly, however, this does not seem to be borne out by the African
evidence. At least in the more obvious sense of a 'relatively long narra
tive poem', epic hardly seems to occur in sub-Saharan Africa apart from
forms like the (written) Swahili titenzi which are directly attributable to
Arabic literary influence.
The term epic appears in the titles of several collections or dis
cussions of African oral literature* (perhaps partly because of the
1 This is admittedly a large subject to discuss in such a note, but some brief
apologia seemed due to explain the non-appearance of the term in a work of this
kind. Fora helpful introduction to this rather controversial subject see Knappert
in Andrzejewski and Messenger 1967.
* e.g. D. A. Puplampu, T h e National Epic of the Adangme, Afr. Affairs 50,
1951; T . J. Larson, Epic Tales of the Mbukushu', Afr. Studies aa, 1963;
J. Jacobs, Les 4pop6es de Soundjata et de Chaka: une dtude compar6e',
Aequatoria 25, 1962; D. Biebuyck and J. Jacobs, Literature epique d'Afrique
noire, Paris (forthcoming); H. Ba and L . Kestcloot, 'Les 6pop6es de lOuest
africain, Abbia 14/15, 1966 (also in Prisence afr. 58, 1966); C . Meillassoux et al.,
Legende de la dispersion des Kusa (dpopfe Soninke), IF A N , Dakar, 1967; D. T .
Niane, Soundjata ou Vipopee mardingue, Paris, i960; R. Comevin, Les po&mes
ipiques africains et la notion d 6pop6e vivante', Presence afr. 60, 1966; M.
Konate, Une 4pop6e malienne: Da Monzon de S6gou*, Abbia, 14/15, >966;
A. H. Ba and L . Kesteloot, 'D a Monzon et Karta Thitfma, Abbia 14/15, 1966;
see also J. P. Clark, 'The Azudu Saga, Afr. notes 1. 1, 1963; T . Papadopoullos,
Poisie dynastique du Ruanda et ipopie akritique, Paris, 1963; J. de Vries, Heroic

Poetry and Patronage

109

common expectation that it is likely to be a wide-spread art form). But

almost all these works in fact turn out to be in prose, not verse and
often only brief prose tales at that. There are only a very few in verse
form;1 Many of the lengthy praise poems, particularly those in South
Africa, do contain some epic elements and provide the nearest common
parallel to this form in Africa. Nevertheless, as will emerge in the follow
ing chapter, panegyric poetry concentrates far more on the laudatory
and apostrophic side than on the narrative and cannot really qualify as
epic poetry in the normal sense of the word.
The most frequent mentions come from the equatorial areas o f the
Congo, particularly among the Mongo-Nkundo peoples where epics
have been referred to by many scholars.2 But even these cases are
somewhat doubtful. For one thing, many of these narratives seem quite
clearly to be in prose merely interspersed with some sung pieces in the
regular manner of African stories,3 and there is no reason to believe that
they differ radically in form from such prose tales.4 And even if one
waives the verse criterion, as is done in some definitions of epic, the
Congo instances are still rather ambiguous. Take the most famous case
of all, the Lianja epic.5 In its most fully published form it runs to about
120 pages of print for both text and translation the sort of scale which
might qualify and covers the kinds of events we tend to associate with
epic or heroic poetry: the birth and tribulations of the hero, his travels
and leadership of his people, finally his death. But how far was this
conceived o f and narrated as a unity prior to its recording (and perhaps
elaboration) in written form? It is not at all certain that the traditional
pattern was not in fact a very loosely related bundle of separate episodes,
told on separate occasions and not necessarily thought of as one single
work of art (though recent and sophisticated narrators say that ideally
it should be told at one sitting).6 By now, of course, its circulation as a
composite written narrative among sophisticated audiences has, in a
Song and Heroic Legend (Eng. tr.), London, 1963 (ch. 7, 'T h e Epic Poetry of
Non-Indo-European Nations, pp. 159 ff., speaks of the epic poetry of the
Fulbe, baaed on the(? prose) texts in Frobenius, Atlantis vi, 1921).
1 See especially the discussion in Comevin, op. cit., and the poems in Coupez
and Kamanzi 1962.
1 e.g. Boelacrt, de Rop, Biebuyck, Jacobs. For full references see Biblio
graphy and n. 5 below.
1 See Ch. 13, pp. 385.
4 In spite of Bascoms description o f the Lianja narrative of the Nkundo as
a 'remarkable epic poem' (1964, p. 18), examination of the actual text suggests
that seven-eighths or more is in prose.
* Edited or discussed in, among other sources, Boelaert 1949 and 1957-8;
A. de Rop, Het epos van de Nkundo Mongo, Band 18, 1959 (A A 11. 323);
idem., *L 4pop6e des Nkundo; loriginal et la copie , Kongo-Overzee 24, 1958
(with bibliography); ibid. 1964.
4 de Rop 1964, p. 17.
815131*
I

no

Poetry

sense, established The Tale of Lianja as a kind of (prose) epic in its

own right, and this and similar forms in the Congo are well worth study
but it does not follow that we have discovered the existence of an oral
epic tradition even in prose, much less in verse.
A better case might be made out for the less celebrated mvet literature
further to the west in Gabon, Spanish Guinea, and the Southern
Cameroons (particularly among the Fang peoples). In this area many
different kinds of songs are sung to the accompaniment of the mvet
(a type of lyre), and these seem to include some historical poetry not
unlike epic.1 It has been described as art mpsical, art choregraphique,
art th&ktral mcme, mais surtout art de la parole qui retrace avec tant
dhabiletd la socite de nos peres pahouins.2 However there is as yet
little published material readily available about this type of narrative
poetry, and further study is needed before we can come to any con
clusion about whether or not it can truly be described as epic.
All in all, epic poetry does not seem to be a typical African form.
Some exceptions can of course be found (in addition to the controversial
cases already mentioned), nearly all of which need further published
elucidation;1 and we must not forget the many Arabic-influenced his
torical narratives in the northerly areas of the continent and the East
Coast.4 Certain elements of epic also come into many other forms of
poetry and prose. But in general terms and apart from Islamic influences,
epic seems to be of remarkably little significance in African oral litera
ture, and the a priori assumption that epic is the natural form for many
non-literate peoples turns out here to have little support.
1 e.g. S. Awona, 'L a guerre dAkoma Mba contre Abo Mama (dpop6e du
mvet), Abbia 9/10, 196s, 12/13, *966 (a narrative poem o f about 2,800 lines);
Towo-Atangnna 1965 (discusses the various types of mvet songs, including the
Angon Mana, a type o f epic'); Towo-Atangana 1966; Hchcgaray 195s (on
'primitive epic poetry in Spanish Guinea); Belinga 1965, ch. 4 (on PahouinBantu of Cameroun).
2 Towo-Atangana 1965, p. 178.
1 e.g. the 'magnificent traditional sung historical. . . chants' o f the Nigerian
Idoma (R. Armstrong, personal communication), the Haya sung legend
(Tracey 19544, 238), or the Igala chanted stories* (J. Boston, personal com
munication).
4 Cf. above, p. 90 and Ch. 7, pp. 168 ff.

Introductory: nature and distribution; composers and re

citers; occasions. Southern Bantu praise poetry: form and
style; occasions and delivery; traditional and contemporary
significance
I
I n its specialized form panegyric is the type for court poetry and
is one o f the most developed and elaborate poetic genres in Africa.
It seems to go with a particular ethos, a stress on royal or aristo
cratic power, and an admiration for military achievement. It is
true that praises (including self-praises) also occur among noncentralized peoples, particularly those who lay. stress on the
significance o f personal achievement in war or hunting (such as the
Galla or Tuareg), and also that the use of praise names is nearly
universal. But the most specialized forms, and those which will
primarily be considered here, are the formalized praises w hich
are directed publicly to kings, chiefs, and leaders, and which are
composed and recited b y members o f a kings official entourage.
First, something must be said about the praise names w hich
often form the basis of formal praise poetry. These are most often
given to people but may also describe clans, animals, or inanimate
objects, and they are usually explicitly laudatory. T h e Zulu king
Shaka is praised in one o f his names as T h e Ever-ready-to-meetany-challenge, 1 a Hausa chief as Fearful and terrible son o f Jato
who turns a town into ashes, or an Ankole warrior as H e who
Does N o t Fear Black Steel.2 S uch words or phrases occur fre
quently within the more complex form o f a complete poem. Other
praise names are derogatory or concerned more with insight into
inherent qualities than with praise. T h e Hausa praise names
(kirari), w hich in fact are often w hole sentences and m ay refer to
inanimate objects, illustrate this well. T h e stock praise name o f
m ob (three-stringed guitar) goes M olo, the drum o f intrigue; if
1 Grant 1927, p. 211.

1 Morris 1964, p. 48.

1X2

Poetry

it has not begun it is being arranged (in reference to the common

association between the molo and imm orality);1 o f the wind
O wind you have no weight, but you cut down the biggest trees.*
Similar stock descriptions are used o f people or anim als: a butter
fly is O Glistening One, O Book o f G od, O Learned One open
your book (i.e. the wings, compared to the K oran); a lion O
Strong One, Elder Brother o f the Forest ; while an old woman is
addressed as
Old T h in g, you are thin everywhere except at the
knee, o f flesh you have but a handful, though your bones would
fill a basket.3 These generalized and derogatory praise names
seem characteristic of som e W est African societies and appear in
proverbs and riddles as w ell as conversation. T h e y do not replace
the more laudatory comments, however, for, also among the
Hausa, every celebrated man has his own praise name which is
used as a basis for prolonged praises by what Trem earne describes
as professional flatterers.4 Similarly among the Y orub a the orifd
or praise names are permanent titles held by individuals, given to
them by friends or, most often, by the drummers. Some indi
viduals have several o f these names, so that a collection o f them,
recited together, resembles a loosely constructed poem (also called
oriki ) about the person praised.5
In eastern and southern A frica cattle form a popular subject in
praise poetry, and inanimate things like divining implements or
even a train or bicycle are also praised. In W est A frica, apparently
unlike other areas, formal praises are addressed to supernatural
beings. Hausa bori spirits for instance, each have their own praise
songs (taki, kirari). W hen the spirit is to be called, its praise songs
are played through one after another until it takes possession of
one o f its worshippers.6 T h e Yoruba praise poems to deities in
Nigeria and Dahomey (as well as from the Y oruba in Brazil) are
particularly famous.7 Each o f the many Yoruba deities (orisha) has
a series of praises expressed in figurative and obscure language,
sung by the priest. Here, for instance, is a praise poem about Ogun,
the god of iron; he is one o f the most powerful deities and is
worshipped particularly b y warriors, hunters, and blacksmiths:

*0

Fletcher 1912, p. 48.

1 G . Merrick, Hausa Proverbs, London, 190s, p. 76.
1 Tremeame 1913, pp. i74~6.
4 Ibid., p. 177.
Gbadamosi and Beier, 1959, p. 7. Some further discussion of names and
their significance can be found in Ch. 16, pp. 470 ft.
6 Smith 1957, p. 33.
7 T he largest collection is that in Verger 1957.

Panegyric

Ogun kills on the right and destroys on the right.

Ogun kills on the left and destroys on the left.
Ogun kills suddenly in the house and suddenly in the field.
Ogun kills the child with the iron with which it plays.
Ogun kills in silence.
Ogun kills the thief and the owner of the stolen goods.
Ogun kills the owner of the slave and the slave runs away.
Ogun kills the owner of thirty iwofa [pawns] and his money, wealth
and children disappear.
Ogun kills the owner of the house and paints the hearth with his
blood.
Ogun is the death who pursues a child until it nins into the bush.
Ogun is the needle that pricks at both ends.
Ogun has water but he washes in blood.
Ogun do not fight me. I belong only to you.
The wife of Ogun is like a tim tim [decorated leather cushion].
She does not like two people to rest on her.
Ogun has many
He gives one to
He gives one to
He gives one to

gowns. He gives them all to the beggars.

the woodcock the woodcock dyes it indigo.
the coucal the coucal dyes it in camwood.
the cattle egret the cattle egret leaves it white.

Ogun is not like pounded yam:

Do you think you can knead him in your hand
And eat of him until you are satisfied ?
Ogun is not like maize gruel:
Do you think you can knead him in your hand .
And eat of him until you are satisfied ?
Ogun is not like something you can throw in your cap:
Do you think you can put on your cap and walk away with him ?
Ogun scatters his enemies.
When the butterflies arrive at the place where the cheetah excretes,
They scatter in all directions.
The light shining on Oguns face is not easy to behold.
Ogun, let me not see the red of your eye.
Ogun sacrifices an elephant to his head.
Master of iron, head of warriors,
Ogun, great chief of robbers.
Ogun wears a bloody cap.
Ogun has four hundred wives and one thousand four hundred
children.
Ogun, the fire that sweeps the forest.
Oguns laughter is no joke.

XX4

Poetry

Ogun eats two hundred earthworms and does not vomit.

Ogun is a crazy orisha [deity] who still asks questions after 780 years.
Whether can reply, or whether I cannot reply,
Ogun please dont ask me anything.

The lion never allows anybody to play with his cub.

Ogun will never allow his child to be punished.
Ogun do not reject me!
Does the woman who spins ever reject a spindle ?
Does the woman who dyes ever reject a cloth ?
Does the eye that sees ever reject a sight?
Ogun, do not reject me! [Ogun needs his worshippers.]1
In spite o f these elaborate religious praises, however, the most
frequent subjects for panegyric are humans, especially kings and
chiefs. Sometimes these are self-praises, like the personal recita
tions o f the Hima noble class o f Ankole in w hich a man celebrates
his military achievements, building his poem on a sequence of
praise names:
I Who Am Praised thus held out in battle among foreigners along
with The Overthrower;
I Who Ravish Spear In Each Hand stood resplendent in my cotton
cloth;
I W ho Am Quick was drawn from afar by lust for the fig h t.. . .*
Praises o f kings are the most formal and public o f all, ranging from
th e relatively simple G anda praise o f the powerful nineteenthcentury king M utesa cited b y the Chadwicks
T h y feet are hammers,
Son of the forest [a comparison with a lion]
Great is the fear o f thee;
Great is thy wrath;
Great is thy peace;
Great is thy power.1
to the more allusive and figurative praise of another powerful ruler,
a man who had seized power for himself in Zaria and was deposed
b y the British when they occupied Northern Nigeria:
Mahama causer of happiness, Mahama yenagi yenaga,* Mahama slab
of salt who handles it tastes pleasure
though thou hatest a man thou gi^est him a thousand cowries
1 Gbodamosi and Bcier 1959, pp. 21-2.
* Chadwicks iii, 1940, p. 579.

a Morris 1964, p. 42.

* Meaning-uncertain.

Panegyric

115

thou hatest a naked mans blood but if thou dost not get his
garment thou slaycst him
Mahama the rolling flight of the crow, O boy cease gazing and
seeing first white then black . . .'
the wall of silver that reaches the breast of the horseman
the tying up that is like releasing2
son of Audu thy help (is) God
son o f Audu, the support of God which is more than the man with
the quiver, yea more than his chief on his horse
hammer of Audu
salt of Kakanda that is both sweet and bitter3
son of Audu, O sun thou dost not look askance and slightingly4
storm on the land, medicine for the man with the mat-cover
elephant with the red loins, medicine for the standing grass,3 with
thy trunk thou spiest into every mans house
the beating of the rain does not stop the jingling of the bell6
the swelling of the palm-stem that Alls the embrace of the (climb
ing) boy7
black dafara tree there is labour before thou breakest.
T h e frank assessment o f the em irs character which accompanies
the lauding o f his power and achievements is not unparalleled.
Praise poems o f people frequently include derogatory remarks,
veiled or otherwise, or give advice as well as panegyric. T h u s the
praises o f tw o Hausa emirs of Zazzau run
Look not with too friendly eyes upon the world,
Pass your hand over your face in meditation,
Not from the heat of the sun.
T h e bull elephant is wise and lives long.
and
Be patient, and listen not to idle tales
Poisoned chaff attracts the silly sheep and kills them.9
1 Reference to crow with a white band which shows intermittently in flight
i.e. do not expect consistency from this powerful ruler.
* i.e. we ought to enjoy even ill treatment from such a great man.
3 We must bear his will whatever it is.
4 He is as overpowering as the sun dazzling in the sky.
3 You trample it down as you trample your enemies.
6 No efforts of ours will curb his will.
7 As formidable to his foes as the swelling in the palm-tree to one trying to
swarm up it.
a His power is compared to that of a tough climbing plant. Fletcher >912,
pp. 38-9. On Hausa praise poetry see also Prietze 1918; Smith 1957.
* F. Heath (ed.), A Chronicle of Abuja, Lagos, 1962, pp. 27, 32.

Poetry

ii6

Self-praises, created and performed by the subject himself, are

not uncommon. Among the Sotho all individuals (or all men) are
expected to have some skill in the composition and performance of
self-praises, and the composition of formalized praise poetry
among the Ankole is expected to be within the capacity of every
nobleman: he must find inspiration in a particular episode, com
pose a personal and topical praise poem based on it, and add it to
his repertoire.1 Again, among the Ibo the taking o f a title is
sometimes followed by a string of self-praises.2 A s w e saw in
Chapter 4, a certain amount o f private enterprise praising of
individuals is also wide-spread. In northern Sierra Leone and
other parts o f West Africa it is not uncommon for expert Mandingo
singers, sometimes accompanied by drummers or xylophonists, to
wander through the streets or attend festivals on their own initia
tive. T h ey pick on som e outstanding or reputedly wealthy
individual for their praises; and even those who refer to them con
temptuously as beggars arc in fact glad to reward them with gifts
and thanks, and thus hope to send them on their w ay content,
avoiding the possibility o f public shaming for lack o f generosity.
Praises b y women sometimes occur too. In the kingdom o f Dahomey
choruses o f wives are expected to perform in praise o f the king and
chiefs,3 and professional N upe singers include a wom ens group.4
T h e most formal state praises, however, are usually made
by official male bards. T h u s every Zulu king had one or more
specialists who both recited the praises of previous rulers and com
posed new ones to commemorate the achievements and qualities
o f the present king. Sim ilarly there were specialist praise poets,
ranging from the Ashanti state drummers and singers to the
Rwanda dynastic poets described in an earlier chapter. Where
accompaniment is important whole teams may sometimes be
responsible for official praises; among the Hausa a D istrict Heads
maroka (praise) team norm ally contained several drummers (to
play the different types o f drum), eulogists, two or more pipers,
and sometimes a horn-blower.5 Lesser chiefs tended to have bards
who were less skilled and less specialized, modelled on the kings
but performing in a less com plex and more limited way.
1
1
*
4
5

Morris 1964, p. 13.

Egudu 1967, pp. 9-10.
M. J. Herskovits, Dahomey, New York, 1938, vol. ii, p. 322.
C. Bowers, Nupe Singers*, Nigeria Magazine 84, 1965, p. 54.
Smith 1957, p. 29.

Panegyric

117

T h e style o f recitation varies between the unaccompanied form s

characteristic o f the Southern Bantu praises, those w ith fairly
minimal accompaniment on some stringed instrument (apparently
typical o f Eastern Bantu poetry1 and o f some peoples in W est
Africa such as the Bambara),2 and that in which the accom pani
ment is stressed (usually percussion or wind). T h is last type is
wide-spread in W est African states and its precise form is some
times a significant aspect o f the attribution o f status im plied in the
praise. A m ong the Hausa the amount or type o f musical accom
paniment is clearly laid down for the praises o f each grade o f ruler
in the hierarchy; wooden gongs, for instance, may not be used to
praise anyone below a certain level, and there are special instru
ments that can only be used for praising kings and leading vassals.3
In W est A frica the whole praise m ay take place on the drum or on
horns, w ithout the use of the hum an voice at all, a particularly
common form in southern Ghana, D ahom ey, and N igeria but also
recorded in some more northerly areas.4
M ost praise poetry, above all the official type, seems to adopt
a more or less obscure and allusive style. T h e language m ay be
archaic and lofty, there are often references to historical events or
people w hich may need interpretation even to local listeners, and
figurative form s o f expression are common. Especially frequent
are comparisons o f the person praised to an animal or series o f
animals. H is strength may be conveyed b y referring to him as a
lion, a rhinoceros, or an elephant, and, particularly in Southern
Bantu praise poetry, the actions and qualities o f the hero m ay
be almost com pletely conveyed in metaphorical terms, only the
animals to w hich the hero is im plicitly compared being depicted
in action. Comparisons to natural phenomena are also fairly fre
quent the hero is likened to a storm, a rock, a downpour o f rain.
Other figurative forms of expression occur, sometimes reaching a
high degree o f complexity. In one Rwanda poem the royal name,
Ntare, suggests to the poet the term intare, lion; he does not make
a direct substitution o f one name for the other, but veils the royal
lion b y talking about the qualities o f the animal, and so refers to
the king b y such terms as H unter o f zebras, Clam our o f the
forests, M ane-carrier.5 N ot all praise poetry takes allusion quite
1 Chadwicks iii, 1940, p. 577.
1 V. Pflques, Let Bambara, Paris, 1934, p. 108.
* On drum poetry see Ch. 17.

J Smith 1957, P- 28.

Kagame 1951b, p. 17.

n8

Poetry

so far, but in general panegyric seems to exploit allusion and

im agery to a higher degree than other form s o f poetry in Africa.
Praise o f a person (or a thing) is not something to be expressed in
bald or straightforward language.
M u ch panegyric is unusually formalized, less variable than
m any other types o f oral literature. U nlike self-praises and the
more informal and topical praise poems there seems to be a marked
tendency for the state praises o f present (and particularly past)
rulers to be handed down in a more or less received version. W ord
and stanza order is, indeed, sometimes varied from recitation to
recitation, or follows the particular version approved by an indi
vidual bard (as in the case, for instance, o f Southern Bantu
panegyric), but the changes seem to be m inor; stress is laid on
conform ity to tradition. In Ruanda, with its powerful corporation
o f bards, the exactness o f wording seems even more close. In one
case there were only very slight variations in four versions by four
different bards o f a 365-line praise poem attributed to a poet o f
about i 820.>
T h e occasions for the performance o f praise poetry have already
been touched on in the discussion o f its authors and reciters.
Praise names are used w hen formal address is required. Among
the Southern Bantu the praise name of an individuals clan was
used on formal occasions, while among the Y oru b a praise names,
sung o r drummed, are to be heard widely on festive occasions
w hen the drummers go about the streets form ally addressing the
passers-by and receiving a small reward in return. Am ong m any
W est A frican peoples drummers at a kings gate play not only the
kings praise names, b u t announce and honour important guests
b y drum m ing or piping their names as they enter the palace.
A mans status is recognized and reaffirmed b y the use o f these
form alized praise names, particularly when, as in the announce
m ent o f visitors, this is a matter o f public performance.
A m ong peoples to w hom the concept o f praise names or praise
verses is common, there are many informal occasions when praises
are used in the same w ay as speeches or commentaries in other
contexts. T h u s am ong the K ele o f the Congo wrestling matches
are often accompanied b y a form o f praise on the talking drum:
the contestants are saluted as they enter the ring ('the hero, full o f
pride), there is com m ent and encouragement from the drums as
1 Kagame 19516, pp. *4 ff.

Panegyric

119

the m atch continues, and at the end praise for the victor.1 On
festive occasions among m any peoples the Y oruba are one
example singers and drummers often welcome those who attend
with songs or chants o f praise, usually led by a soloist who im
provises to suit the individual, accompanied by a chorus. T h e
popularity o f praises means that they can be used for profit, a
possibility frequently exploited b y the roving Hausa soloist
described in the last chapter.3 B ut they can also stir people to
genuine excitement: gifts are showered on the praise poets from
enthusiasm as well as fear. Am ong the SoninkS, writes M eillassoux,
leur maniement du langage, les chaleureuses louanges dont ils
couvrent leurs auditeurs, la beaut de leur musique ou de leurs
rythmes suscitent dauthentiques. Emotions, une sorte divresse
enthousiaste qui entrdine k donner sans compter.*
Praise poetry often plays an essential part in rites o f passage:
when an individual (or group) moves from one status to another
in society, the transition is celebrated by praises marking the
new status or commemorating the old. T h e eulogies involved in
funeral dirges are described elsewhere, but in a sense they also
fall into this category. Again, self-praises by boys at initiation, as
among the Sotho or the Galla, are an important aspect o f their
claim to adulthood, which is heard and accepted by their audience.
A m ong m any peoples, weddings are also an obligatory occasion for
praises o f bride and groom either by their friends and relations
or b y professional bards. Accession to office is-another common
context for praise poetry, usually in public and in the presence o f
those w ho take this opportunity to express their loyalty. Som e
times self-praising is used on such occasions; the Him a o f A nkole
recited praises when a man was given a chieftainship by the king
or when he dedicated him self to the king for service in battle.'*
Even w hen a new status is not being formally marked, praise
poetry is often relevant in the analogous situation o f publicizing an
individuals recent achievements, particularly those in battle or
the hunt.
M ost spectacular and public are-the frequent occasions on w hich
* Carrington 19490, pp. 63-5.
* pp. 94 -J .
* C. Meillassoux et al., Ugende de la ditpersion des Kuta (ipopie Soninki),
Dakar, 1967, p. 14.
4 Morris 1964, p. 12. For similar self-praises among the Ibo on the occasion
of taking an 020 title see the instance quoted in Ch. 16, pp. 474-5.

120

Poetry

rulers are praised. Sometimes this takes a very sim ple form as
on the bush paths in northern Liberia or Sierra Leone when a
petty chief, carried in his hammock, is accompanied b y praises as
he enters villages and the local dwellers are thus instructed or
reminded o f his chiefly dignity. O r it m ay be a huge public occasion
as in the M uslim chiefdoms in N igeria Hausa, N upe, Yoruba
when at the Sallah rituals (the M uslim festivals o f Id -el-F itr and
Id-el-K abir) the subordinate officials attend the king on horse
back, accompanied by their praise-singers. T h eir allegiance is
shown by a cavalry charge with drawn swords outside the palace;
the official praise-singers take part in the gallop, piping and
drumming the kings praises on horseback. A n y sort o f public
event (the arrival of important visitors to the ruler, the installation
ceremonies o f a chief, a victory in battle) may be the occasion for
praises b y official bards o r other experts; the rulers position is
commented on and recognized b y the stress laid both on the
dignity o f the office and, m ore explicitly, on the achievements
o f its present incumbent. Periodic praises are often obligatory.
Am ong some o f the Yoruba the praises o f the king, w ith the com
plete list o f his predecessors and their praises, must be recited once
a year in public. In many M uslim kingdoms the ruler is celebrated
weekly b y teams of praisers (reciters, drummers, pipers) who stand
outside the palace to eulogize his office, ancestry, and power,
sometimes including at his request those of his friends or patrons.
In return the ruler acknowledges their praise by gifts or money
which are often given publicly.
T h e manifold social significance o f praise poetry is clear. It can
validate status by the content o f the praise, by the num ber and
quality o f the performers, and by the public nature o f the recitation.
T h is validation is often acknowledged by gifts. Praise poetry
stresses accepted values: the Hausa praise their rulers in terms of
descent and birth, the Zulu emphasize military exploits, and the
N upe voice their admiration for modern achievement in their
praises o f the rulers new car.' T h is kind o f poetry can also act as
a medium o f public opinion, for up to a point praisers can withhold
praise or include implicit or explicit derogatory allusions as a kind
o f negative sanction on the rulers acts. Further social functions
are publicizing new status or achievements in a non-literate
culture, flattering those in power or drawing attention to ones own
1 S. F. Nadel, A Black Byzantium, London, 1942, pp. 140-1.

Panegyric

121

achievements, preserving accepted versions o f history (particu

larly the exploits o f earlier rulers), serving as an encouragement
to emulation or achievement, and, not least, providing an econo
mically profitable activity for many o f those w ho engage in it. But
consideration o f the obvious social functions o f praise poetry must
not obscure its very real literary qualities. It was also appreciated
for its intellectual and aesthetic interest, and for the fact that on
some occasions it was recited purely for enjoym ent in the evening
recitations o f the Hima, or in the salons o f important Hausa
prostitutes where there was nightly praise-singing and witty con
versation.
M any of these general points will em erge more clearly in a
detailed discussion o f the praise poetry o f the Southern Bantu,
the praise poetry w hich has been most fully documented and
described. O bviously the details o f occasion, tone, performance,
and, most of all, style are peculiar to the societies which practise
them. But the importance of praises in Bantu society has something
in common with praises of other aristocratic or kingly societies
in Africa, and a consideration o f Southern Bantu praise poetry
during the remainder o f this chapter can throw further light on
the general aspects that have been discussed so far.1
II
T h e praise poems o f the Bantu peoples o f South Africa are one
of the most specialized and complex form s o f poetry to be found
in Africa. M any examples have been published in the original or
in translation (though as yet these are probably only a fragment o f
what could be found), and there is a large literature about them
by scholars in South Africa. Elsewhere, in general studies o f
African oral literature, they have tended to be ignored, or, in the
most recent general account,2 mentioned only in passing under
the heading o f Briefer Forms, w hich is an odd way of classifying
such elaborate and lengthy poems.
These praise poems have been described as intermediary between
epic and ode, a combination o f exclamatory narration and laudatory
apostrophizing.3 A certain amount o f narrative is involved the
1 Besides references to panegyric cited elsewhere in this chapter, see also the
collection of Kanuri praise poems in J. R. Patterson, Kanuri Songs, Lagos, 1926.
1 Bascom 1965.
1 Lestrade 1937, p. 295.

122

Poetry

description o f battles or hunts, and the exploits o f the hero. But

the general treatment is dramatic and panegyric, marked b y a tone
o f high solemnity and a lo fty adulatory style. T h e expression is
typically obscure and intense, and the descriptions are presented
in figurative terms, w ith allusions to people and places and the
formalized and poetic praise names o f heroes.
T h is poetry occurs w id ely among the Southern Bantu cluster
o f peoples in South A frica where it is regarded b y the people
themselves as the highest o f their many form s o f poetic expression.
I t has been particularly well documented among the Ngunispeaking peoples (a group w hich includes Z ulu, Xhosa, and Swazi
as well as the offshoot N goni o f M alawi) and the Sotho groups
(including, among others, the Lovedu and Tsw ana); and it also
occurs among such people as the Venda and the Tsonga-speaking
groups. Although at different periods and among different peoples
there are differences o f tone and form w hich would have to be
considered in a detailed account o f this poetry,1 in general they
share the same form and here they w ill b e treated together.
Besides these fam ous Southern Bantu form s, similar poems occur
elsewhere among the Bantu, notably am ong the cattle-owning
aristocrats o f East Central Afri$a. T h e poems o f the Bahima in
Ankole, described b y M orris2 as heroic recitations, and the
dynastic poetry and historical poems o f Ruanda1 have something
in common with Southern Bantu praise poetry and they could
perhaps be classed together.4
Although norm ally addressed to distinguished human beings,
praise poems can b e concerned with almost anything animals,
divining bones, beer, birds, clans. Even a stick may be apostro
phized in high-sounding terms:
1 See in particular the detailed analysis of different periods of Zulu poetry in
the unpublished thesis by Kunene (1962) summarized in Cope 1968, pp. 50 ff.
Also detailed studies by Cope, Schapera, Mofokeng, and others. There is a brief
description of some different styles which contrast with the main stream of
Zulu praise-poetry in Cope 1968, pp. 61-3.
* 1964.
1 Kagame 1951&; Coupez 1968.
4 Besides other references in this chapter see also J. C . Chiwale, Central
Bantu Hiitorical Tents II I, Royal Praises and Praise-names o f the LundaKazembt o f Northern Rhodesia, Rhodes-Livingstone Communication 25,1962;
the brief description o f Shona praise songs by G. Mandishona in Fortune 1964
(also the Rozi praise poem quoted in G . Fortune, A Rozi Text with Translation,
and Notes, Nada 35, 1956); H . F. Morris, T h e Praise Poems of Bahima
Women , A fr. Language Studies 6, 1965; B. Gbadamqsi, Qriki, Ibadan, 1961
(Ybiuba only).

Panegyric

123

Guardsman of the river fords,

Joy of adventurers reckless!1
Praises o f animals are very common, usually of the male. Among
the pastoral Zulu cattle are a particularly popular subject, but
wild animals also appear. T h e lion is referred to as the stonesmasher, or awc-inspirer, or darkness, and the crocodile is the
Cruel one, killer whilst laughing.
The Crocodile is the laughing teeth that kill.1
Som e animal praises are m ore light-hearted and humorous than
the solemn panegyrics o f prominent people. Consider, for example,
the following Southern Sotho praise poem with its vivid and con
cise description o f a pig:
Pig that runs about fussily,
Above the narrow places, above the ground;
Up above the sun shines, the pig grows fat,
T h e animal which grows fat when it has dawned.
Pig that runs about fussily,
With little horns in its mouth.1
B ut even praises of animals are often marked b y solemnity and
allusiveness. Indeed there is often an intentional am biguity in the
poems between animal and person, and some poems can be inter
preted as sustained metaphors. T h e following Northern Sotho
poem appears to be about a leopard; but the allusion is to the
chiefs o f the Tlokwa, whose sym bol was a leopard:
It is the yellow leopard with the spots
T h e yellow leopard of the cliffs
It is the leopard of the broad cheeks
Yellow leopard of the broad face, I-do-not-fcar
The black and white one, I-get-into-a-small-trce
I tear off the eyebrows4
Clawer am I, I dig in my claws
M y people (adversaries) I leave behind
Saying: this was not one leopard, there were ten.
M r. Claws, scratch for yourself
Even for a big man its no disgrace to yell if scratched
Leopards of the Tlokwa country
O f Bolea, where the Tlokwa came from
1 Dhlomo 1947, p. 6 (Zulu).
1 Lekgothoane 1938, p. 201.
1 Lestrade 1935, p. 9 >
4 T h e leopard sits in a tree over the path and daws at the head of a passer-by.

124

Poetry

Wild cat with the broad face

Both impala buck wc eat and cattle
You died in Botlukwa
In the Tlokwa-land of MmathSaka Maimane
Tlokwa-land of the sons of Mokutupi of ThSaka
Where do you go in Tlokwa-land (to seize cattle) ?
It is full of blood, it has got the liver
Leopard of Bolea.
Yellow leopard of the clan Maldba the great
Yellow spotted one
Poor nobody, active smart fellow that summons together a huge
gathering
M y victim goes away with his scalp hanging down over his eyes
Leopard of the many spots
Leopard of the very dark spots
Leopard grand old man (formidable one)
Even when it can no longer bite, it still butts its adversaries out of the
way with its forehead.1
T h e most developed and famous forms, however, are those in
which people are directly praised and described. In some areas
these include self-praises, such as those composed b y boys on
their emergence from traditional initiation schools or b y warriors
on their return from battle. Others occur in the relatively informal
context o f a wedding when a woman may be praised (which is
otherwise unusual). M ost ambitious and elaborate o f all are the
praises composed and recited by the professional bards surround
i n g a king or cmel. 1 he toliowm g extract irom one^of the many
praises ot the famous Z u lu king, Shaka, illustrates the use o f
.allusion, metaphor, and praise name which are combined with
some narrative to conViiy ihd bravery and fearsomeness o f the
king as he defeated his enem y Zw ide:
His spear is terrible.
The Ever-ready-to-meet-any-challenge!
T h e first-bom sons of their mothers who were called for many years!1
He is like the cluster o f stones of Nkandhla,
Which sheltered the elephants when it had rained.1*3
1 Lekgothoone 1938, pp. 193-5.
1 i.e. Shakes courage is contrasted with the cowardice o f those who did not
answer the call.
3 A reference to a famous battle between Shaka and Zwide which took place
in the broken country near Nkandhla.

125

Panegyric
T h e hawk which I saw sweeping down from Mangcengeza;
When he came to Pungashe he disappeared.
He invades, the forests echo, saying, in echoing,
He paid a fine of the duiker and the doe.
He is seen by the hunters who trap the flying ants;
He was hindered by a cock in front,
By the people of Ntombazi and Langa.1
He
He
He
He
He

devoured Nomahlanjana son of Zwide;

devoured Mdandalazi son of Gaqa of the amaPela;
was lop-eared.
devoured Mdandalazi son of Gaqa of the amaPela;
was lop-eared.

The Driver-away of the old man bom of Langas daughter!

The Ever-ready-to-meet-any-challenge!
Shaka!
The first-born sons of their mothers who were called for many years!
He is like the cluster of stones o f Nkandhla,
Which sheltered elephants when it had rained. . . .
The Eagle-which-beats-its-wings-where-herds-graze!
He drove away Zwide son of Langa,
Until he caused him to disappear in the.Ubani:
Until he crossed above Johannesburg and disappeared;
He crossed the Limpopo where it was rocky;
Even though he left Pretoria with tears.
He killed the snake, he did not kill it in summer,
He killed it when the winter had come.1
In more purely panegyric vein is the briefer praise poem to
Moshesh, the famous Southern Sotho chief:
Nketu (frog) of the regiment, companion of Shakhane and Ramakhwane,
Stirrer-up o f dust, you came from the centre of the plateau of
Rathsowanyane,
The child of the chief of Qhwai saw you,
You were seen by Ratjotjose of Mokhethi;
Cloud, gleaner of shields,
When Nketu is not there among the people,
The leaders of the regiment cry aloud and say,
Nketu and Ramakhwane, where are you ?J
1 Mother and father of Zwide.

* Grant 19*7, pp. 211-13.

8161S14

> Lestrade 1935, p. 10.

K

126

Poetry

T h e main topic tends to be the chiefs m ilitary exploits. How

ever, other subjects are also introduced. A m ong the Swazi a
leaders praise poems are always known b y all his followers, and
include references not only to his actions in war but also to acts o f
generosity and to his skill and achievement in hunting. Comments
on personality,1 and criticism w hich can provide a kind o f social
pressure on an unpopular chief, are not uncommon, and some
times sarcastic or even insulting remarks are included which,
among the N goni at least, are said to represent a high kind o f
praise such comments are so ludicrous that they could not possibly
be true.2 Praises composed more recently m ay include references
to, for instance, w inning a case in the High- C ourt,3 travelling
abroad to work in European areas, or dealing w ith tax collectors.4
B ut it remains true that the most outstanding and beautiful o f the
traditional praises are those to do with war (and often more peace
ful exploits are expressed in military terms).
Various stock topics about the heros m ilitary actions are
described in, for example, most Sotho praise poems.5 These
include the leaders tem per before the battle, his journey to the
field, his fighting, his victims, the booty, and finally his return
home, all portrayed in emotional and high-flown terms. T h e basis
o f the events mentioned is authentic, but the emphasis is on those
incidents in which the hero excelled. T h u s even i f reverses are
mentioned, they are expressed euphemistically. E ven i f a war was
lost, the hero won one o f the battles. O r a rout m ay be admitted to
throw into greater contrast the heros second and more vigorous
offensive. T h e opponents are frequently referred to in con
temptuous terms, compared, for instance, to a small and despicable
ox, or to a bull w ithout horns fighting against a conquering and
triumphant bull. In these praises it is usually the chief himself
who is the centre o f attention, but his companions and relatives
may also be mentioned and their support is seen to add to the
heros prestige and success.
_3fte wars in w hich these heroes are depicted as fighting are
varied. M any or tnem are against neighbouring peoples in South
A frica and involve n ot only pitched battles b u t more mobile
1
*
*
4
*

See the examples o f this in Zulu panegyric in Cope 1968, p. 34.

Read 1937, p. 22.
'
Morris 1964, pp. 84 ff.
Schapera 1965, pp. 4, 229.
The following account is mainly based on Mofokeng, 1945 part m , ch, 1.

Panegyric

127

cattle raiding. Others are between rival contenders for power in

one area, such as Shakas hostilities w ith some o f his rivals. Wars
against European invaders are also frequent occasions for praise
poems and, as Norton puts it, one may wonder whether the
exploits o f the conquerors w ere celebrated in as poetic and
elevated a manner as some o f those o f the conquered.1 Here, for
example, is a poem praising the bravery of a Swazi king, Mavuso,
who w as involved in fighting w ith the Afrikaaners:
Mavuso o f Ngwane,
Dangazela [i.e. Mavuso] of Ngwane o f Sobhusa.
News o f war eats the child still in the womb.
If a person can walk he would have run away.
Flee ye by all the paths,
Go and tell the news to Mpande of the Zulu:
Say one elephant ate another,
And covered it with dress material and quantities o f beads.
Those who ran away swore by Lurwarwa,
Saying, Mswa2i* will not return, he is killing
He fights in the darkness, when will the dawn come?
O chief that fights with the light of burning grass until the dawn
comes.
They were saying that Mswazi was a boy herding calves;
We shall never be ruled by the hoe stood in the door of Majosikazu
He will rule Mkuku and Msukusuku.
O one who comes in and goes out of sandy places,
O bird of Mabizwa-sabele
You are called by Shila of Mlambo,
For him you asked cattle from Mhlangala,
You are asked by Mawewe to ask cattle from Mzila of Soshangane.
Dutchmen of Piet Retief, we do not approve of you,
We blame you
By stabbing the chief who was helping you.
You cry at the grave o f Piet Retief,
You cry at the grave of John.
0 one alone without an advocate
Although Ntungwa had one:
Our chief who can stab,
1 never saw a man who could stab like him.
He stabs with an assegai until he tires.
1 Norton 1950, p. 23.

* Early king and prototype.

128

Poetry

Mngqimila who bears a headdress of feathers,

Mababala who arms on a bad day,
Lomashakizela [one-who-goes-quickly], Lomashiya impi [one-wholeaves-his-army-behind],
Bayete, Bayete.1
ill
T h e Southern Bantu praise poems are largely built up o f a
series o f praise names and praise verses. These praise namgs-ean.
be either category terms a cock is the aggressive one, the class
o f cattle the homed one* or G o d o f the w et nose (Sotho) or
individual terms, as when a particular bull is biggest in the herd.
Clan praise names are used in formal address to clan members;
a Tsw ana clan, for instance, has the praise name Mokwena (from
hoetta, a crocodile, the sym bol o f the dan), so an individual o f the
clan may be called b y the general praise name o f Mokwena. In
addition many individuals have their own laudatory epithets
which refer to their character or their deeds; these epithets arc
usually bestowed on kings, leaders, and outstanding warriors. T h u s
w e meet the Zulu Sun-is-shining, Fame-spread-abroad, or the
Venda Devouring Beast, L o rd of the Lands, or H uge Head of
Cattle. Sometimes the praise name is expanded so that it takes up a
whole line (as in the Z u lu Herd-of-M tsholoza-he-escaped-andwas-killed), and certain prominent people are praised w ith a whole
string o f names: Shaka, for instance, is said to have had several
dozen.1 Sometimes the hero is also referred to b y the name o f his
clans symbol or other animal as, for instance, a crocodile, lion,
rhinoceros, or elephant and m uch of the poem is thus built up
on a sustained metaphor, almost allegory, about the animal which
represents the hero. Som e poems seem to make special use of these
praise names, but in all o f them the inclusion o f these colourful
epithets adds both grandeur and imagery to the verse.
Besides individual praise names (often just one word in the
original) there are praise verses or praise lines in w hich one
laudatory phrase takes up at least a whole line in the poem. One
o f the Sotho praise verses about the class o f cattle runs: T h e
beast lows at the chiefs great place; if it lows in a little village
belonging to a commoner it is wrong, while D inganes silent
1 Cook 1931, p. 193*
1 Several occur in the poem about Shaka quoted on pp. 124-5.

Panegyric

129

and cunning character is referred to b y T h e deep and silent pool

is calm and inviting, yet'dangerous, a Venda chief is L igh t o f
G od upon earth, and Shaka is described as T h e play o f the
women at N om gabis.
A praise poem is in general built up o f these smaller units
which are often loosely linked together into stanzas.1 T h ese
stanzas follow in varying orders in different versions. T h e
order is variable because the different stanzas are often linked
not by specific meaning but by their general application to the
hero o f the poem ; it is often as important to convey a general
picture o f his actions and character as to present his exploits
in a narrative within a chronological framework. T h e whole
composition is extremely fluid, w ith given stanzas sometimes
appearing, sometimes not, or some versions combining into one
poem w hat others give as two or even three distinct praises.*
T h u s each type (praise name, verse, stanza, and poem) is an exten
sion o f the previous kind, and the literary significance which is
attached to each finds its fullest expression in the com plex and
extensive poem.
A n y discussion o f the formal structure o f praise poems must
include some reference to prosody.3 T h is is a difficult topic, but it
seems that there is some kind o f dynam ic stress which, in addition
to other stylistic features mentioned below, is one o f the main
characteristics which distinguish this art form as poetry. T h e
division into lines is in most cases indicated fairly clearly by the
reciters delivery, so that certain groups o f words are pronounced
together in the same breath, followed by a pause, and fall together
in terms o f sense, sometimes consisting of a formalized praise
verse o f the kind already described. W ithin each of these lines
there are normally three or four groups o f syllables (or nodes, as
Lestrade terms them), each group marked by one main stress but
containing any number o f other syllables. T h is node sometimes
consists o f ju st one word (or is dynam ically treated as one word).
T h e main stress is sometimes on the penultimate syllable o f the
node, followed b y a brief break; the stress on the last node o f
1 There may be some exceptions to this. T h e pre-Shakan Zulu praise poem
is said to be short and simple and not always made up of stanzas (Cope 1968,
PP- 5 * 3 )2 See the detailed examples of this in Schapera 1965, pp. 11 if.
1 See especially Lestrade 1935, 1937: Grant 1927 p. 202; Mofokeng 1945,
pp. 136 ff.

130

Poetry

the line is usually the strongest, and is followed by a more pro*

nounced break. A stanza and, ultimately, a w hole poem is thus
made up of a succession o f these lines, each consisting of three or
four nodes following each other indiscriminately. There seems
to be no attempt at regular quantitative metre, for the stanzas are
made up o f irregular numbers o f lines each w ith varying numbers
o f syllables, but the variety in syllable num bers (by some con
sidered a mark o f richness in itself) is bound together not only b y
the over-all pattern o f this strong stress rhythm , but by repetition,
parallelism, and other devices to be discussed below.
T h e over-all pattern is also brought out b y certain melodic
features in the actual recitation. T h is has been studied in some
detail in the case o f Southern Sotho and especially in Zulu praise
poetry.1 In the delivery there is some musical use o f pitch,
even though the actual tones are too close to the tones o f normal
speech for the poems actually to count as songs. T h e
melodic aspect centres round a limited series o f notes, enough to
provide a contrast w ith the less formalized speech o f ordinary
prose. T h e ends o f stanzas in particular are brought out b y the
lengthening and special pitch (often a glide) o f the penultimate
syllable. T h is amounts to a kind o f concluding formula, melodically marked, for each stanza.2
T h e example quoted b y Lcstrade may serve to bring out more
clearly the effect o f the penultimate stress (marked by an acute
accent) in the nodes and at the end o f each stanza. T h is is a praise
poem o f M oshesh:
Ngwana/Mmamokhathsane/Thescle, Child o f Mmamokhathsane,
Thesele (praise-name),
Thesele, deep chasm,
Thesele/phdru/e teldle/telcle,
Kx6mo/di kene/ka y6na,/di sa fie,
Cattle enter into it on their way,
L e bitho/ba kdne/ka ydna/ba sa fie. Also people enter into it on their
way.
Hlab(si/ya BaKwena,
You who give the BaKwena cattle
to kill,
Please give your aunt cattle to
Ak0/hlabfs6/nkx6no/do,
kill,
Mofokeng 1945, pp. 136 ff.; D. Rycroft, Melodic Features in Zulu Eulogistic
Recitation, A ft. Language Studies i, i960; D. Rycroft, 'Zulu and Xhosa
Praise-poetry and Song, A fr. Music 3. 1,1962.
1 A detailed description is given in Rycroft i960, op. cit. Sec also the dis
cussion below, pp. 137-8.'

131

Panegyric
AkO/hlabfse/Mmasetenine/aka
rwile.
A re/ke mehlehlo/ya dikx6mo/le ya
bitho.

Please give Mmasetenane cattle

to kill, that she may carry the
meat away,
That she may say, These are the
fat stomachs of cattle and of
people.1

T h e poetic style o f these poems emerges more fully when one

considers the language and form o f expression in some detail.2
T h e language differs from that o f ordinary prose (and to a large
exten t from that o f other poetic genres among the Southern B antu),
in its archaic quality as w ell as the introduction o f foreign words
w hich add colour to the poem. Alliteration and assonance are both
appreciated and exploited by the poet A s well there are many
syntactic constructions peculiar to the poems: the use o f special
idioms and o f elaborate adjectives and adjectival phrases means
that there is a special style w hich has to be mastered by a com*
poser o f praise poetry. L o n g compounds abound, many of them
in the form o f the praise names mentioned already, and built up
in various ways: from a predicate and object (Saviour-of-thepeople), predicate and adverb (The-one-who-sleeps-in-water),
noun and adjective (The-black-beast), noun and copulative (T h ecliff-white-with-thick-milk), and several others. In Southern
Sotho praises, prefixes and concord also appear in characteristic
ways, w ith certain rare omissions o f prefixes, and with contractions.
T h ere are special prefixes suitable for praising, for example se~,
w hich indicates the habitual doing o f something and is common
in praises to suggest the heros habit or character, and ma-, w hich
appears in names with the idea o f doing something extensively
or repeatedly.
Parallelism and repetition are marked features in praise poetry.
Th ese take various forms, and can be illustrated from the praise
o f M oshesh just quoted. In the third and fourth lines o f the first
stanza there is parallelism o f meaning as well as, in part, o f the
words, w ith the second h alf o f the line repeated identically the
second tim e and in the first h alf a repetition o f the same verb but

.3

1 Lestrade 1935, pp. 4-5.

* On style and language see especially Lestrade 1935, Grant 1927, pp. 203 f.,
Schapera 1965, pp. 15 if., Cope 1968, pp. 38 ff.; the following account is based
particularly on Mofokengs unpublished thesis (especially part in , chs. 1, 3)
on Southern Sotho praise poems.
1 See the instances of this in Zulu praise poems in Cope 1968, pp. 45-6.

*3*

Poetry

with a different noun. Parallelism by which the same person is

referred to by different names can be illustrated in the second and
third lines in the second stanza, where the proper name M masetenane refers to the same person mentioned earlier, w ith, again,
identical repetition o f other parts o f the line, both these form s o f
parallelism are common elsewhere in praise poetry. T h ere are
also many other forms: sometimes the repetition is not exact but
the repeated phrase has som ething added to it, thus leading to
progress in the action:
He has taken out Ntsane of Basieeng
He has taken out Ntsane from the cleft in the rock*
a m otif w hich is frequently used in describing someones exploits;
when placed like this side b y side it adds to the impression o f
achievement. Or the thought may be repeated in following lines
even when the wording is different:
Watchman of derelict homes,
Caretaker of peoples ruins,
Guardian of his mothers deserted house.1
T h e many other forms that occur include chiasmus (cross paral
lelism), deliberate change o f w ord order in the second o f three
parallel lines, and the practice o f linking, by which a phrase at the
end o f a line is taken up and repeated in the first half o f the next.
T h e use o f ideophoncs and inteijections in praise poetry is
another w ay in which its poetic quality can be enhanced. In
Southern Sotho, for instance, the interjections hele (expressing
surprise), he (of a wish), or p e (a recognition o f som ething over
looked) are frequently used to convey emotion. Ideophones too
can add to the descriptive quality with vivid conciseness: qephe,
for instance, conveys a sound picture of the last drop o f milk
during milking, occurring in such a line as There is not even the
sound o f the last drop, there is no milk.
T h e characteristically obscure nature o f the language in praises
is partly due to its figurative quality, as we shall see. B ut it also
arises from the great emphasis on allusion in this form o f poetry,
to historical events, places, and peoples. A s will be obvious from
some o f the examples quoted, the use o f proper names is often
extensive and at times stanzas consist mainly o f a catalogue o f
names and places.
1 Mofokeng 1945, p. 13a*

Schapera 1965, p. 17.

Panegyric

133

T h e imagery in this form o f poetry provides a striking contrast

to the much m ore straightfonvard expression in prose. B y far the
most common form is that o f metaphor. T h e hero is associated
with an animal, often the animal sym bolic o f his particular clan:
a chief belonging to the clan associated w ith the crocodile m ay
appear as 'T h e crocodile o f crocodiles' or, as in the Southern
Sotho praises o f Lerotholi, the heros nature m ay be indicated in
terms of the animal:
The crocodile looked in the deep pool,
It looked with blood-red eyes.1
W here the comparison is to domestic animals, it is often w ith th e
suggestion that they are too wild for their enemies to manage
cattle may refuse their milk, kick m ud into the milk, tear their
milkers blanket, and in the case o f a bull (a common image) his
sharp horns are dangerous to those around him . M ost frequent o f
all are comparisons to wild animals, to their bravery, wildness, and
fearsome appearance. T h u s a hero m ay appear as a lion, a spotted
hyena, a big vulture, or a buffalo. In som e praises the hero speaks
in his own voice and himself draws th e parallel with an animal or
a series o f animals:
I am the young lion!
The wild animal with pad-feet and black back!
Whose father has given up hope from the beginning and whose
mother has wept for a long time.
I am the fine elephant of the Mathubapula, the finest elephant in the
Matsaakgang.2
Though animal metaphors are the most common, heroes are also
compared to natural phenomena like lightning, wind, or storm,
or to other objects like a shield, a rock, flames o f fire:
The
The
The
The

whirlwind [i.e. the hero] caused people to stumble

people were swept by the downpour o f spears
heavy rain of summer, a storm,
hailstorm with very hard drops.* .

Sometimes there is a whole series o f metaphors by which the hero

is compared, or compares himself, to various different objects:
1 Mofokeng 1945, p. 128.
* V. Ellenberger, History of the Ba-Ga-Malete of Ramoutsa', Trans. Roy.
Soc. S . Africa 25, 1937, p. 19.
1 Mofokeng 1945, p. 129.

*34

Poetry
The rumbling which is like the roll of thunder,
Ox belonging to the younger brother of the chief . . .
I am the wind that raises the yellow dust,
I am the rhinoceros from the Badimo cattle-post,
Son of Mma-Maleka and nephew of Les&lfe.1

Sim ilarly in the Transvaal N debele lines:

The hail that came down in the middle of winter,
And came down at emaKhophana.
T h e elephant that took fire in a pot-sherd,
And went and set the kraals o f men alight,
And burned down those of all the tribe.2
Special grammatical form s are also used to introduce a meta
phorical impression. In Southern Sotho, for instance, there is
sometimes a change in the course of a poem from class i con
cords (the personal class) to others, a device w hich both conveys
a metaphor and leads to variety, a change from the monotony
o f class i throughout;3 and wrong* concords in Zulu similarly
suggest a metaphorical idea.5
Similes are m uch rarer than metaphors, but a few occur in
descriptions. Som eone m ay b e said to be
. . . like a stone hammer
Like a round boulder, the hero3
or the chief may be as shapely as the full moon or as straight as
a sandalwood tree.6
Hyperbole appears in emotional description, adding to the
vividness o f the picture. T h e confusion and fierceness of the battle
m ay be indicated b y
A cow should run carrying her calf
A man should run carrying his child
or
The small herbs were frost-bitten in the middle of summer__
T h e trees lost their leaves,
The sparrows, the birds that lay eggs in the trees, forsook their nests6
> EUenberger, op. tit., p. 6.
> Mofokeng 1945, p. 129.
* Schapcra 1965, p. 21.

* Van Warmelo 1930, p. 77.

Vilokozi 1938, p. 117.

6 Mofokeng 1945, pp. 130,124.

135

Panegyric
while a mans feelings may be conveyed by

'

He left grieved in his heart

He left with the heart fighting with the lungs,
Heaven quarrelling with the earth.1
It is largely through this figurative and allusive form o f descrip*
tion that actions and qualities o f people are conveyed in the praise
poems. T h ere is little stress on personal emotions, lyrical descriptions
o f nature, or straightforward narration. Rather a series o f pictures
is conveyed to the listeners through a number o f laconic and often
rather staccato sentences, a grouping o f ideas which m ay on different
occasions com e in a different order. In this way impressions are
communicated with economy and vividness. Vilakazi comments, for
example, on the emotional shorthand of such a passage as this:
The thunder that bursts on the open
Where mimosa trees are none.
The giant camouflaged with leaves
In the track of Nxabas cattle
He refuses tasks imposed by other people.1
Here the figurative language conveys the action. First the heros
temper is described as like a sudden thunderstorn, then his force
is indicated b y comparing it to a giant elephant hidden b y the
leaves o f the trees. H is strength is then brought out further b y
the w ay h e is able to win back the cattle taken away b y one o f the
headmen (Nxaba) who fled north in Shakas reign; finally the fact
that not even Shaka can impose his commands on him proves his
hardihood and strength o f mind.
T h is loose ordering o f stanzas b y which a series o f pictures o f
a mans qualities and deeds is conveyed to the listener is typical.
Nevertheless there are also vivid descriptions o f the action itself
in a w ay which fits the partly narrative aspect o f praise poetfy.
T h u s there are many examples of battle scenes in Southern Sotho
praise poems. Here the sounds o f the words, as well as the meaning,
sometimes serve to heighten the effect:
Cannons came roaring, the veld resounding
Sword came tinkling from all sides
(Kanono tsa tla li kutuma thota e luma.
Lisabole tsa tla li kelema kahohle)1
1 Ibid., p. 131.
Mofokeng 194s, p. 120.

1 Vilakazi 194$, p. 45 (Zulu).

*36

Poetry

T h e heros attack and the fate o f his victims are favourite topics:
Maame, the whirlwind of Senate,
Snatched a man off his horse
The Europeans horse took fright at the corpse
It took fright at the corpse without a soul

The lion roared when it saw them near.

It jumped suddenly, wanting to devour them
They ran in all directions the people of Masopha,
They ran in all directions and filled the village,
They scattered like finches.1
W hen the victim falls on the ground, dead, and lies motionless
this is described in one poem as
He lay down, the grass became taller than him
While it was finally dead quiet on the ground*
while the effect of battle, its many deaths, can also be shown
indirectly in a description o f the general scene:
A foul smell came from the ridge,
They no longer drink water the people of Rampai
They are already drinking clods of human blood.*
I t has frequently been remarked that the stress in praise poetry
is on action and on the building up o f a series o f pictures about
the deeds and qualities o f the hero, rather than on lyric descrip
tions o f nature; and in a general way this is certainly true. A few
passages can be singled out as Dhlomo and Vilakazi have done,
to represent a more lyrical approach to the beauty of nature. In
a Zulu praise poem we have
The greenness which kisses that of a gall bladder!
Butterfly of Phunga, tinted with circling spots,
As if made by the twilight from the shadow o f mountains,
In the dusk of the evening, when the wizards are abroad.4
Another picture which seems to be expressed for its own beauty
is the brief praise of the blue-throated lizard in the Northern
Sotho
1 Mofokeng 1945, pp. 123, 124.
* Ibid., p. 120.

* Ibid., p. 123.
4 Dhlomo 1947, p. 6.

Panegyric

137

Blue-throated lizard o f the Lizards

A blue chest lor throat) I have put on
Brown I also have put on
I, father-of-clinging of the hillside.1
But while such instances can fairly easily be found, in general the
stress is far more on the hero and his character, so that what
pictures are given o f the scene and surroundings are subordinate
to the insight they give into the heros activity. T h e weather, for
example, may be described not for its own sake but as a kind o f
formalized indication that some important event is about to be
depicted or to show the determination and perseverance o f the
hero whatever the conditions. T h is comes out in the following
Southern Sotho passage:
When he is going to act the mist thickens;
The mist was covering the snow-clad mountains,
Mountains from which the wind blows.
There was a wind, there was snow, Likila,
There was a wind, there was snow on the mountains,
Some were attracted by pillows and remained.2
Here, as in all these praise poems, th e first interest seems to be
the laudatory description of the hero rather than descriptions o f
natural phenomena or the straightforward narration of events. It is
to this panegyricizing end that both the general form and the
detailed style o f these poems all tend. IV

IV
A s these poems are very m uch oral compositions, intended to be
heard rather than read, they demand also some consideration o f the
w ay in w hich they are delivered and composed and the kinds o f
occasions on w hich they tend to be heard.
Although again the details vary, there seems to be general agree
ment that praise poems are delivered m uch faster, and in a higher
tone, than ordinary prose utterances. T h e reciter pours forth the
praises w ith few pauses for breath and at the top o f his voice.
Often there is growing excitement and dramatic gestures are made
as the poem proceeds. Grant describes a well-known Z ulu praiser
> Lekgothoane 1938, p. a i 3 -

Mofokeng 1945, p. 121.

138

Poetry

whom he heard in the 1920s. A s the poet recited, he worked him

se lf up to a high pitch o f fervour, his face was uplifted, and his
voice became loud and strong. T h e shield and stick that he carried
were, from time to time, suddenly raised and shaken, and his
gestures became more frequent and dramatic, so that he would
suddenly leap in the air or crouch with glaring eyes while praises
poured from his lips until at last he stopped exhausted.1 T h e
audience too play their part and often shout out encouragingly in
support o f what the praiser is saying or to cheer him on, adding
to the emotional, even ecstatic mood that is induced b y the
delivery o f these poems.
Something has already been said about the metrical and quasi
musical form o f the delivery. Even in the m ood o f excitement
described b y Grant there is a clear emphasis on the penultimate
syllable o f certain words, and, in a more marked w ay still, on the
word ju st preceding a pause at a line- or stanza-end. Praise poems
have no musical accompaniment, nor, apparently, are they
actually sung. Rather, th ey are semi-chanted, in the sense that a
special stylized intonation is expected during the recitation. In
Zulu the tonal and m elodic movement is not a separate musical
creation, but arises directly out o f the words o f a given line; and
at the ends o f lines and stanzas there are certain formalized cadences
and glides, used as concluding formulas.2
T h e power o f a praise poem seems to depend partly on the
delivery and the personality o f the reciter. It is said, for instance,
that when the great general N dlela kaSompisi recited the whole
audience became awestruck,3 and Lekgothoane expresses the
same view in an extrem e form when he writes that a man whilst
praising or being praised can walk over thorns, w hich cannot pierce
his flesh which has becom e impenetrable/ However, with this
com plex and sophisticated form o f poetry, unlike the simpler
prose tales, the literary effect does not seem to have been de
pendent primarily on the skill o f the reciter, but rather on the art
o f the poet as composer in his use o f the traditional forms
described above, such as figurative expression, allusion, and the
various stylistic devices which, quite apart from his delivery,
served to heighten the effectiveness and power o f the verse.
1 Grant 1937, p. 303.
* D . Rycroft, 'Melodic Features in Zulu Eulogistic Recitation , A/r. Language
Studies 1, 1960.
Bang 1951.
4 Lekgothoane 1938, p. 191.

Panegyric

139

T h e composition o f praise poetry was traditionally both a

specialist and a universal activity. A ll men seem to have been
expected to have a certain skill. Commoners composed their own
praises or those o f their families and their cattle while those o f
high birth or outstanding prowess had their praises composed b y
others, the chiefs b y specialist bards. T h e poems about earlier
chiefs were handed down and probably known b y the chiefs
followers as w ell as by the specialist reciters; but it was the par
ticular responsibility o f the official bards to recite them on appro
priate occasions. Though the older poems were preserved in this
way, this is not to say that each recitation o f a single poem was
verbally identical. Indeed several versions of the same poem have
sometimes been recorded, differing in, for instance, the order o f
the stanzas, their length, or the detailed wording or order o f lines.
T h e form o f praise poetry makes it easy for poems to become
telescoped without radically altering the sense; this is what seems
to have happened with many o f the earliest poems which tend to
be considerably shorter than those about more recent chief}. T h e
recitation itself can also lead to additions by the performer, in the
sense that a stanza or line may be' introduced in that particular
performance from his knowledge o f the stock language and imagery.
In these ways each separate performance of the traditional poem
may involve a certain amount o f composition in the sense o f
introducing variant forms into a poem which has a dear outline
but is not fixed into an exact verbal identity. Composition also of
course takes place in the more fam iliar way with original creation
by a single poet, notably b y the professional bards o f the chief.
U sing the conventional forms the poet produces a new poem, per
haps designed to commemorate a particular occasion like the
coming o f distinguished visitors, perhaps in general praise o f the
chiefs deeds and character. T h e poem may then become famous
and be added to the repertoire o f praise poems o f that particular
chief, to be handed down to th e court poets even after the c h ie fs
death. A m on g some peoples at least these original praise poems
are the property o f the composer in the sense that until his death
no one m ay rerite them in public,1 and the names o f the original
poets m ay be remembered for som e time.
D uring the nineteenth and earlier part of the twentieth centuries,
one o f the main occasions for the composition o f praise poems,
1 Schapera 1965, p. 6 (on Tswana).

X40

Poetry

among the Sotho-speaking peoples at least, was at the initiation

ceremonies o f boys.1 D uring their period o f seclusion at the age of
fifteen or sixteen the boys were required to compose and recite
poems in praise of themselves, o f their chief, and o f their parents,
and they had to recite these praises publicly on their emergence
from seclusion. In this w ay the art o f composition was insisted
on as a necessary accomplishment for every man, involving some
acquaintance at least with the various stylized form s o f expression
and historical allusions mentioned earlier.
Self-praising also takes place on many other occasions. T h e
most famous situation is after a battle when a warrior composes
his own praises to celebrate his exploits or, if he is outstanding in
bravery or birth, may have them composed for him by others. In
this way every soldier had his own praises (in addition, that is, to
the praise names possessed in virtue of his membership o f a
particular clan) which he either recited himself or, among the Zulu
at least, had shouted out to him by his companions while he
danced or prepared for w ar.2 W ar was the main occasion for such
praises, but many other events may inspire them exploits in
hunting particularly, and the experience o f going to work in
European areas which, as Schapera notes, form s a new type of
adventure to be celebrated among the Tsw ana.3
Whatever the initial occasions and subjects o f their composition,
the situations when recitations are made are basically the same
some public gathering, whether a festival, a wedding, a beer drink,
or the performance o f some public work. T h e chanting o f praise
poetry takes its place am ong the singing o f other songs, and it is
frequent for someone to walk about reciting praises o f himself or
his leader, while those present become silent and attentive. Am ong
the Sotho peoples, the situation o f divining also provides a formalized
occasion for praises o f both the bones used in divination and the
various falls* which the diviner follows in his pronouncements.
W eddings too are very w idely regarded as another stock situation
in which praises are not only possible but required, for the bride
or bridegroom is lauded in praises which include references to the
fame o f their family and its-ancestors.4
1 Laydevant 1930, p. 524; Mofokeng 1945, p. 136: Schapera 1965, pp. 2-4.
* Tracey, 19486, p. vii; J. K . Ngubane, An Examination of Zulu Tribal
Poetry, Native Teachers'journal [Natal] 31, 1951.
1 Schapera 1965, p. 4.
4 Ibid., pp. 4-5; Vilakazi I 94 S. P- 58.

Panegyric

141

However, the prototypical situation for reciting praise poetry

arises w hen a ch ief and his.ancestors are praised b y the specialist
bards w ho form part of the chiefs official entourage. T h ese praise
poets (Zulu imbongi, Tswana mmSkt) were m uch respected m em
bers o f the chiefs official retinue and had the function o f recording
the praise names, victories, characteristics, and exploits (or ex
pected exploits) of the chief to w hom they were attached. T h e
office w as still recognized in the 1920s,1 although it seems that
later on these functions were perform ed b y poets without official
positions. O ne o f the traditional occasions for the recitation o f
praises o f the chiefs was in the early morning when the praiser
shouted them out. Formal praises w ere delivered on ceremonial
and public occasions when the bard recited a whole scries of
eulogies, starting with the famous praises o f the kings or ch iefs
ancestors praises handed down to him by word o f m outh
and finally reaching the praises, often composed b y himself, of
the present chief.2 Such praises w ere also declaimed on special
occasions such as after a victory b y the chief, on the advent o f
distinguished visitors, at the installation o f a new chief, or at the
distribution o f royal bounty.V
V

T h e social significance of these praise poems is bound up w ith

the aristocratic nature of the Southern Bantu societies, tradi
tionally based on a hierarchy o f rank dependent on birth, and
linked by an emphasis on the institutions o f kingship and chiefship.
T h e pastoral emphasis was also important, for even in those groups
for w hom agriculture formed the basis o f the economy, cattle
holding was particularly esteemed as a mark o f status and pride,
an attitude w hich the many praise poems to cattle express clearly.
T h e marked military tradition o f all these societies, in particular
the Zulu, is also relevant, together w ith the emphasis on com peti
tion, whether in military exploits, in hunting, in vying w ith other
members o f the same age-set, or for the favour and notice o f the
chief or king. T h is desire for fame and praise was something con
sidered relevant not only in life but also after death: a m ans
memory was kept alive in his praises.
1 Grant 19*7, p. 202.
1 C. L . S. Nyembezi, The Historical Background to the iziSongo of the
Zulu Military Age, Afr. Studies 7, 1948, p. 111.
8161114

i 4*

Poetry

In societies where status and birth were so important, the praise

poem s served to consolidate these values. A s so often w ith pane
gyric, the recitation o f the praises o f the chief and his ancestors
served to point out to the listeners the chiefs right to the position he
held both through his descent from those predecessors whose great
deeds were commemorated and through his own qualities so glow
in gly and solemnly depicted in the poetry. A s elsewhere, however,
praises could contain criticism as well as eulogy, a pressure to con
form to expectations as w ell as praise for actual behaviour. In this
w ay, praise poetry could also have the implicit result o f exerting con
trol on a ruler as well as the obvious one o f upholding his position.
T h ese praise poems were, furthermore, not only a result of but
in some cases a means towards acquiring position and power. T h e
effective earning o f praises w as one way in w hich a man could
recommend himself to his ch ief for honour and advancement.
Praises meant support from others and, in Z u lu society at least,
a m an's influence was closely correlated with his praises; the more
a man achieved in battle and in council, the m ore and better his
praises. Further, in a culture in w hich dancing was so important,
a m an could only dance publicly according to the num ber and
quality o f his praise poem s.1 T h e poems also acted as an induce
m ent to action and ambition. A young mans promise and his
futu re heroic deeds w ere described in the praises he and his
fellows made up, particularly on the occasion o f his initiation
w hen the ideals implied in the poems could fire the imagination.
A ch ief who had only recently succeeded to office and whose reign
still lay before him could be roused to activity b y the exploits
expected o f him as b y th e knowledge that the praise poets could,
however guardedly, sometimes blame as well as praise. T h u s in
youth a man was reminded in praises o f the measure o f his pro
m ise; in maturity his praises presented an inspired record o f his
deeds and ambitions; in old age he could contemplate the praises
o f his achievements and adventures; while after death the poems
w ould remain as an ornament to his life, an inspiration and glory
to his friends and followers, and a worthy commemoration to keep
his name alive as one o f the ancestors:
People will die and their praises remain,
It is these that will be left to mourn for them in their deserted homes.2
1 Dhlomo 1947, p. 48: Cope 1968, p. a t.
* From a Zulu praise poem (Cope 1968, p. 67).

143

Panegyric

T h e praise poems thus express pride in the possessions and

values o f the peoples among w hom th ey were recited pride in
cattle, in fam ily and clan, in chiefship, and in military achieve
ment. I t w as war in particular that filled people with pride and
emotion about their own actions or those of their friends; above
all, about those o f their chiefs and leaders. A nd the m emory o f
such actions 'fills the praiser w ith emotion, excitement, jo y
mingled w ith sorrow1.1
Praise poetry is also a vehicle for the recording o f history as
viewed by the poets. There is little straightforward cataloguing of
genealogies, fo r a knowledge o f these is assumed in reciter and
listener and m erely touched on allusively. It is the great deeds and
characters o f earlier heroes w hich are commemorated rather than
their mere names or ancestry, and national glories are thus re
counted and relived. H ow far back these historical poems can go
can be illustrated from the N goni praise o f Ngwana, the hero who
led one group o f the Ngoni northwards to their present home in
M alaw i in the early nineteenth century, in flight from Shakas
wars:
You who cut the trees and who cut the mouths,
You the locust, the grasshopper who fixed in your hair the feathers of
the locust.
Who went below, and climbed up, and went to bring the morning
star of the dawn.
You go, since you are rejected; you go and bring the armlets of wild
animals; those of cattle will be much disputed.
You who remember the fault o f long ago.
In descending, you descend together with the mountains.
You who drank the blood of cattle.
You who separated from the people o f Shaka, Shaka of MfieleBele
kraal.
You who separated from the people o f Nyathi the son o f Mashofiane;
it thundered, it was cloudy.
Thou resemblest cattle which were finished by wolves.
You who originated with the people o f Mzilikazi.
You who originated with the people of Mpakana son o f Lidonga.
You who originated with the people o f Ndwandwe.*
In spite o f the great social importance of praise poetry in the
aristocratic and military society o f the nineteenth century, it
1 Mofokeng 194.5, P - 136.

* Read 1937, p. 35.

*44

Poetry

would be wrong to overemphasize the social functions o f this

poetry at the expense o f its literary and artistic significance. A s
is clear from a detailed consideration of their conventional form
and style, Southern Bantu praise poems represent a com plex form
o f art, and one which, while in the hands o f the second-rate it can
lead to mere bombast and pompous repetition, can also give rise to
poems o f great imagination and power. It would be wrong to
suppose that a people capable o f developing such an art form were
unappreciative o f its artistic qualities whether as listeners or as
reciters. A nd praise poems continue to be composed. Although
the aristocratic and military basis o f society has gone and the
content o f these poems has been transformed b y new interests
and preoccupations, nevertheless the form and tone o f praise
poetry remain. T h e style has been influential as a basis for written
poetry, and such well-known writers as N yem bezi, Mangoaela,
Vilakazi, and Dhlomo have made studies or collections o f tradi
tional praises in which they find inspiration for their own writings.
In some areas praise poetry m ay no longer be so popular as in
earlier years, but local newspapers still abound with written praise
poems on important occasions, on the installation o f a new para
mount chief, for instance, or the arrival o f some fam ous visitor.
Interest in praise poetry is not confined to written form s either.
O f Zulu panegyric, Rycroft writes:
Its oral composition continues to be a living art among illiterate and
semi-literate people. Young Zulu men from country areas who take up
manual work in towns nowadays have the habit of interspersing long
strings of their own self-praises between the verses of their guitar songs,
despite the-firm tradition that no Zulu should ever praise himself.1
(Guitars are a sine qua non and are played while walking in the street.)
Self-praises here serve to re-assure and raise morale in an unfamiliar
environment. They seem to be found particularly useful as a stimulant
when proceeding on a courting expedition, besides being used to impress
the ladies, on arrival.2
Some o f the subjects treated in these modern praise poems are
analogous to the traditional ones new types o f adventures, dis
tinguished visitors, wedding feasts, self-praises in modern terms
and such topics can be treated w ith the same kind o f solemnity and
imagery as the traditional ones. Other new poems concentrate on
1 Though see Cope 1968, p. 21.
2 D. Rycroft, personal communication.

Panegyric

145

praises o f inanimate things and o f animals (race-horses, for

instance). T h e following brief oral poem about a bicycle seems
typical o f modern interests and treatm ent; it was recorded from the
Hurutshe living in the native reserve and location o f Z eerust:
M y frail little bicycle,
T h e one with the scar,' my sister Seabld,
Horse of the Europeans, feet o f tyre,
Iron horse, swayer from side to side.2
From the same source comes this extract from the praises o f a
train. It includes the traditional motifs o f metaphorical compari
son to an animal, parallelism, allusion, and adulatory address:
Beast coming from Pompi, from Moretele,
It comes with a spider's web and with gnats1
It having been sent along by the point o f a needle and by gnats.
Swartmuis, beast coming from Kgopi-Kgobola-diatla [bumping]
Out of the big hole [tunnel] o f the mother o f the gigantic woman. . .
Team of red and white pipits [the coaches], it gathered the track unto
itself,
Itself being spotlessly clean.
Tshutshu [noise o f engine] of the dry plains
Rhinoceros (tshukudu) of the highlands
Beast coming from the South, it comes along steaming,
It comes from Pompi and from Kgobola-diatla.*
T h e same kind o f style is also evident in modern written forms.
One can compare, for instance, the following lines from another
praise poem about a train, this time written by a Sotho student at
a training institute:
I am the black centipede, the rusher with a black nose
Drinker of water even in the fountains of the witches,
And who do you say will bewitch me ?
I triumphed over the one who cats a person (the sun) and over the
pitch black darkness
When the carnivorous animals drink blood day and night.
I am the centipede, the mighty roarer that roars within.5
T h u s in spite o f new interests and the inevitable changes o f
outlook consequent on the passing o f the o ld aristocratic order,

1 i.e. the bag o f tools attached.

1 Merwe 1941, P- 33 &.
J A reference to the smoke.
4 Merwe 194*. P- 335 5 H. J. Van Zyl, Praises in Northern Sotho, Bantu Studies 15, 1941, p. 13 *-

146

Poetry

the literary form o f -praise poetry still flourishes, in however

modified a form, and the ancient praises still bring inspiration and
a formal mode o f literary expression to modern artists. Praise
poetry still performs its old functions o f recording outstanding
events, expressing praise, and recalling the history o f the people.
Praise poetry, and in particular the Southern Bantu form, is
among the best-documented types of African oral poetry. N ever
theless, much remains to be studied. Further collections could
be made or published so far only a fragm ent has appeared in
print. Th ere are other general problems too. T h ere is the ques
tion, for instance, o f how far this form, apparently so closely
connected with kingly and aristocratic society, also occurs in nonaristocratic areas o r periods.1 M any detailed problems arise too
about style, prosody, and, in particular, composition. Though
m any texts have been collected,2 particularly from South Africa,
full discussions o f these are less common,3 and further detailed
accounts are now needed o f specific forms in particular areas.
1 See forthcoming work by W . Whitelcy on praise songs among the Kamba;
also instances among the Ila and Tonga of Zambia (A. M . Jones 1943, pp. 1 2 1 ).
2 Including some published in the original only, e.g. C. L . S. Nyembezi,
Iziboitgo zamakhasi (Zulu), 1958 (not seen; reference in Cope 1968); Z. D.
Mangoaela, Litkoho tsa marena a Basotho (S. Sotho), Morija, 1921 (not seen;
reference in Schapera 1965).
2 Though see Schapera 1965 (Tswann); Morris 1964 (Ankole); Cope 1968
(Zulu); Coupez 1968 (Ruanda); and Mofokeng 1945 (os yet unpublished) on
Southern Sotho. Otherwise detailed discussion tends to be in the form of short
articles.

ELEGIAC POETRY
General and introductory. Akan funeral dirges: content and
themes; structure, style, and delivery; occasions and func
tions; the dirge as literature
I
E l e g i a c poetry is an exceedingly common form o f expression in
Africa. W e hear o f it from all areas and in many different forms.
However it is usually less specialized and elaborate than panegyric
poetry, and, perhaps for this reason, it has attracted less interest.1
M ore private and normally lacking the political relevance o f
panegyric poetry to which, nevertheless, it is closely related
it tends to be performed b y non-professionals (often women)
rather than state officials. It shades into lyric poetry and in m any
cases cannot be treated as a distinctive genre. However, lamenta
tion so frequently appears in a mOre or less stylized and literary
form in A frica that it is worth treating on its own in this chapter.
Furthermore, some account o f N ketias detailed work on Akan
funeral dirges a study not w idely enough known2 m ay serve as
a stimulus to further similar work, and at the same tim e illustrate
some o f the complex artistic conventions that can be distinguished
in one type o f non-professional oral poetry in Africa.
T h e most obvious instances o f elegiac poetry are those poems
or songs performed at funeral or memorial rites. In this sense
elegiac poetry ranges from the Islam ic funeral song sung by Hausa
mallams and reduced to writing in the nineteenth century,3 or the
short but com plex Akan funeral dirges chanted b y women soloists,
to the simple laments with leader and chorus w hich are sung
among the L im ba and others, laments in which the musical and
balletic elements are as important as the words.
1 I know of only two analyses in any detail (Nkeda 1955 and Anyumba 1964),
though there are many brief accounts and passing references.
* It is not mentioned, for instance, in Bascom'a bibliographic survey o f
African oral literature, 1964.
1 C . H. Robinson, Specimen! o f Hausa Literature, Cambridge, 1896, pp. a-13.

148

Poetry

T h e occasions for these laments differ from people to people.

Often dirges are sung round the corpse (or round the house in
which the corpse lies) w hile it is being prepared for burial. Some
times, as among the Akan, this is followed by a period o f public
mourning, during which the corpse lies in state and dirges are
sung. T h e actual burial m ay or may not be accompanied by elegies:
among the Akan it is not,1 w hile among the Lim ba all normal
burials should be accompanied by singing. Deaths arc also often
celebrated by memorial ceremonies later and these too are usually
accompanied by songs w hich sometimes include strictly funeral
songs, and sometimes panegyric o f the dead.
O n these occasions women are the most frequent singers.
A m ong the Yoruba women lament at funeral feasts,2 Akan dirges
are chanted by women soloists,3 and the zitengulo songs o f Zambia
are sung by women mourners.4 T h e fact that these songs often
involve wailing, sobbing, and weeping makes them particularly
suitable for women for in A frica as elsewhere such activities are
considered typically female. A lso common are laments sung by
a chorus o f women, sometimes led by one soloist, and often
accompanied by dancing or drumming. Occasionally men too are
involved. Among the Lim ba, for instance, the initial mourning
over the corpse is invariably b y women, in either chorus or antiphonal form; but in the case o f an adult male the burial itself is
by the mens secret society and the accompanying songs are by
men. Specialists too are sometimes conventionally mourned by
their peers. Thus an expert hunter may have special songs sung
at his funeral by fellow hunters (men) who come to attend the rites.
Occasionally too one hears o f professional or semi-professional
singers. Thus the Yoruba sometimes invited professional mourners
to their funerals to add an extra embellishment to the usual laments
o f the bereaved women.s
M any of these songs are topical and ephemeral. T h at is, they
are composed for use at the funeral of one individual and relate
to him only, though they naturally use the accepted idioms and
forms. Th u s among the Ila and Tonga of Zam bia, the zitengulo
mourning songs are sung only once: they are very short and com
posed by a woman who mourns and thinks over the lifes work of *
* Nketia 1955, p. 15.
3 Nketia, op. cit., p. 8 and passim.
* Ellis 1894, p. I 57 <

1 Ellis 1894, pp. 157 f.

4 Jones 1943, p. 15.

Elegiac Poetry

149

the deceased; she bases her song on this, starts to sing little b y little,
and adds w ords and melody until the song is complete.1 O ther
funeral songs, perhaps particularly the choral ones, seem to have
a set form repeated more or less exactly at all funerals, or all
funerals o f a certain category though on this point the evidence
is often not very precise. T h ere are also instances o f songs or
poems said to have been composed initially for some other occasion
but taken over for regular use at funerals. T h e Chadwicks speak
o f elegies in Ethiopia said to have been preserved for several
centuries and instance the famous and m uch sung elegy for Saba
Gadis.2 Another case is the Ibo song originally sung b y warriors to
their leader O jea as he lay dying at the moment o f victory, but now
used as a generalized funeral dirge:
Ojea, noble Ojea, look round before you depart,
Ojea, see, the fight is over;
Fire has consumed the square and then the home,
Ojea, sec, the fight is over.
Ojea, Brother Ojea, ponder and look,
Ojea, see, the fight is over;
If rain soaks the body, will the clothes be dry?
Ojea, ah! the fight is over.1
T h e content o f these elegies varies. A t times as in this Ibo
example there is no direct reference to the deceased. B u t often
he is specifically addressed, and praise is one o f the most frequent
motifs. A m on g the Yoruba praise poetry is recited or played on
drums at funerals as well as on other occasions,4 and in Akan dirges
the singer calls on the deceased by his praise names and lauds his
great deeds and ancestry. Occasionally the personal reference or
address to the deceased is deepened b y more general allusions.
T h is is w ell illustrated by the Y oruba funeral song from E de:
I say rise, and you will not rise.
If Olu is told to rise, Olu will rise.
I f Awo is told to rise, he will rise.
The newly wedded bride gets up at a bidding,
Although she dares not call her hushand by name.
The elephant on waking gets up,
The buffalo on waking gets up,
The elephant lies down like a hill.
1 Jones 1943. P' 15.
1 Osadebay 1949, p. 153.

2 Chadwicks Hi, 1940, p. 517,

4 Gbadamosi and Beier 1959, p. 50.

iso

Poetry
Alas I T h e elephant has fallen,
And can never get up again!
You say you have neither wealth nor children,
Not even forty cowries with which to buy salt
You muffled head, rise!1

W e also find resignation and acceptance o f the inevitable. These

are, for instance, mentioned as frequent characteristics o f much
Sudanese funeral poetry.2 Other poems dw ell on the personal
feelings and experience o f the mourner. E llis quotes from a
Y o ru b a example:
I go to the market; it is crowded. There are many people there, but
he is not among them. I wait, but he comes n o t Ah me! I am
alone.. . .3
T h e same note o f personal grief is heard in the Acholi funeral
dirge:
I wait on the pathway in vain
He refuses to come again
Only one, bdoved of my mother oh,
M y brother blows like the wind
Fate has destroyed chief of youth completely
I wait on the pathway in vain4
or again in an N goni lam ent:
I have stared at the setting (death) of my husband.
They say, show me the pool that has a crocodile.
Let me throw myself away.
What can I do? Alasl*
W e are not, unfortunatdy, told the details o f the occasion on
w hich the m uch quoted Bushman lament, T h e broken string1, was
composed or performed, but in this too w e see that the main con
centration is on the singers feeling: he is m ourning his friend,
a magician and rain-maker:
People were those who
Broke for me the string.
Therefore,
The place became like this to me,
On account of it,
Because the string was that which broke for me.
1 Gbadamosi and Beier 1959, p. 51.
* Ellis 1894, p. 157.
* Okot 1963, p. 209.

1 Tescaroli 1961, p. 9.
* Read 1937. p. :6.

E legiac Poetry

*5 *

Therefore,
T h e place does not feel to me,
As the place used to feel to me,
On account o f it.
For,
T h e place feels as if it stood open before me,
Because the string has broken for me.
Therefore
T h e place does not feel pleasant to me,
On account o f it.1
T h e elegies so far discussed have been those specifically con
nected w ith funeral rites o f various kinds, or, at least, poems or
songs m ourning the death o f some individual. T h ere is also,
however, a sense in which elegiac poetry also includes poems
which take death or sorrow as their general themes without being
connected w ith funerals or actual mourning. In this sense, elegiac
poetry in A frica does not often seem to be a distinctly recognized
genre. A lthough certain dirges (such as those o f the L u o or the
Akan) are sometimes performed in other contexts and w ith other
purposes, funerals remain their prim ary and distinctive occasions,
and death is merely one and not apparently a very common one
o f the many subjects that occur in lyric poetry generally. In this
sense, then, elegiac poetry does n o t seem a type that demands
extensive discussion here.
T h e sort o f way, however, that the theme o f death is occasionally
used outside a dirge is worth illustrating from the impressive
N goni song recorded b y Read. T h is is a very old poem, originally
intended fo r performance at a marriage, but now sung on other
occasions (including church meetings). T h e refrain, the earth does
not get fat, is a reference to the w ay the earth is always receiving
the dead, but is yet never satisfied:
The earth does not get fa t It makes an end of those who wear the
head plumes [the older men]
We shall die on the earth.
The earth does not get fat. It makes an end of those who act swiftly
as heroes.
Shall we die on the earth?
Listen O earth. We shall mourn because of you.
Listen O earth. Shall we all die on the earth?
1 Bleek and Lloyd 1911, p. 237.

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Poetry

The earth does not get hit. It makes an end o f the chiefs.
Shall we all die on the earth ?
The earth does not get fat. It makes an end of the women chiefs.
Shall we die on the earth ?

Listen earth. W e shall mourn because of you.

Listen O earth. Shall we all die on the earth?
The earth does not get fat. It makes an end of the nobles.
Shall we die on the earth ?
The earth does not get fat. It makes an end of the royal women.
Shall we die on the earth ?
Listen
Listen

0 earth. We shall mourn because of you.

0 earth. Shall we all die on the earth?

The earth does not get fat. It makes the end of the common people.
Shall we die on the earth ?
The earth does not get fat. It makes an end of all the beasts.
Shall we die on the earth?
Listen you who are asleep, who are left tightly closed in the land.
Shall we all sink into the earth ?
Listen O earth the sun is setting tightly.
We shall all enter into the earth.1
Rather than generalizing further about elegiac poetry or repro
ducing further isolated examples, it seems best to concentrate on
one example, the Akan funeral dirge. From this something o f the
social context o f the form and its complex conventions will
emerge. It will also show how some o f the familiar questions o f
literary criticism can be pursued with profit in the case o f oral, as
o f written, poetry.2

ii
T h e funeral dirges o f the A kan have been intensively studied by
Nketia w ho published his collection and analysis in 1955. Am ong
the Akan-speaking peoples o f southern Ghana dirges form just one
Read 1937, pp. 14-15.
* Further references to elegiac poetry include Anyumba 1964 (Luo); Beaton
1935/6 (Bari); Tescaroli 1961, part .2 (Sudan); B. Gutmann, 'GruOlieder der
Wadschagga', Festschrift Meinhof, GlUckstadt, 1927; L . Stoppers, 'Kimoshi, de
rouwzang van de BaaMilembwe, Zaire 4. to, 1950; G. Hulstaert, Een rouwzang
van de Mongo', Africa- Tervuren 7. i, 1961; B. Gbadamosi, Yorubs Funeral
Songs, Black Orpheus 1 2 ,1967;E. Littmann, AbestinischeKlagelieder, Tubingen,
1949. See also G. Moore, 'T h e Imagery of Death in African Poetry', Africa 38,
1968 (mainly but not exclusively on written forms).

Elegiac P oetry

153

among their many types o f poetry. T h e y are sung or intoned by

women as part o f the public m ourning during funerals. In them
'speech [is] inlaid with music, sobs and tears and conjoined to
bodily movem ent. 1 Unlike some o f the lyric poetry to be discussed
later, however, the emphasis is on the words rather than the
music, and the poems are performed by soloists without the
accompaniment o f either musical instrum ents or a chorus o f sup
porting singers.2
Here in introduction are two examples from Nketias collection.
T h e first is sung by a woman for her dead son, G yim a (poetically
referred to as her grandsire):
Grandsire Gyima with a slim but generous arm,
Fount of satisfaction,
M y friend Adu on whom I depend,
I depend on you for everything, even for drinking water.
If I am not dependent on you [i.e. if there is any doubt that I depend
on you], see what has become o f me.
Although a man, you are a mother to children,
A man who takes anothers child for his own,
Who builds mighty but empty houses,
Who is restive until he has fought and won,
Osibirikuo, Gyane the short one,
Dwentiwaas husband, and a man of valour.1
In the second example the mourner is singing about her dead
mother:
Grandchild of grandsire Kwaagyei of Hwedeemu that drinks the water
of Abono,
Daughter of a spokesman, who is herself a spokesman,
Mother, it may appear that all is well with me, but I am struggling.
Nyaakowaa of Anteade and grandchild of Osafo Agyeman,
0 , mother, I am struggling; all is not as well as it appears.
Mother, if you would send me something, I would like a parcel and
a big cooking pot that entertains strangers.
The god spent has failed; the gourd of charms has won.
O, mother, there is no branch above which I could grasp.
Mother, if you would send me something, I would like parched com
So that I could eat it raw if there was no fire to cook it.
Nketia 1955, p. 118.
1 In addition to the dirges described here the Akan also have choral laments
sung by groups o f women in solo and chorus form (not discussed here).
1 Nketia 1955, p. 195.

*54

Poetry

Mother, the parrot will catch a skin disease from the fowls and die!
Grandchild of grandsire Kwaagyei of Hwendecmu that drinks Abono,
Grandsire, the mighty pot, saviour of strangers,
O, mother, I am struggling; all is not as well with me as it appears.
Mother who sends gifts, send me something when someone is coming
this way.
Mother, there is no fire in the deserted dwelling
From which I could take a brand to light my fire.
M y helpful Wicker Basket that comes to my aid with lumps o f salt,1
O, mother, I would weep blood for you, if only Otires child would
be allowed to.
Grandsire, the crab that knows the hiding place of alluvial gold,
What is the matter, child of the spokesman?
Mother has allowed this death to take me by surprise.
O, mother, I am struggling; all is not as well with me as it appears.2
N ketia describes in som e detail the conventional language and
themes o f dirges themes w hich throw light on features which
m ight otherwise seem puzzling or banal. T h e deceased is the focal
point. H e may be addressed, his individual qualities described, or
he m ay be identified w ith one or several ancestors. T o refer to
him the mourner often uses a series o f different names which
vary the language as w ell as honouring the dead. Besides proper
names the Akan also have corresponding by-names and these
often occur in dirges for affective reasons. T h e same applies to
praise appellations, term s which 'describe in a convenient short
or gnomic form the qualities or expected qualities, accomplish
m ent or status o f a holder o f the corresponding proper name.3
T h u s in the first dirge quoted above, G yim as praise names include
Anho-atma (one w ho is restive until he has fought and won) and
Dwentiwaa ktrnu barima Katakyie (Dwentiwaas husband and a
man o f valour). O ther instances o f praise names can be translated
as T h e beetle that eats away raffia or N oble A pea Kusi, feller o f
O dum trees .4 T h e y m ay in fact have been w on by an earlier
individual o f the same name, but are used for contemporaries who
are imaginatively pictured in the dirge as possessing the same quali
ties or status as their fam ous namesakes. T h e poetry is also further
embellished b y another type o f reference to the deceased the
'dirge names. T h ese are sometimes made up o f a string o f
* Salt in the past was a very precious and scarce commodity.
1 Nketia 1955, p. 196.
* Ibid., p. 31.
* Ibid., p. 32.

Elegiac Poetry

155

by-names, praise names, and other words, but also have less usual
forms according to which a person o f a given proper name can be
addressed b y any one o f several dirge names. M any o f these names
cannot be translated for example, one o f the dirge names o f a
man called A pea: Nyenenkye Asamanwoma Apeantummaa1 but
used in a dirge they introduce an elevated and high-sounding effect.
Beside these specialized names, the deceased is also addressed
by kinship terms and terms o f endearm ent In the second dirge
quoted, the dead woman was addressed throughout as mother*
and other such terms (father, uncle, etc.) are frequent. T h e
relationship to some third person is also used; the deceased may
appear as, for instance, T h e Drum mers child, Father of
Obempon and Ayirebiwaa, or 'Grandchild o f W ealth. Finally, a
name o f reference may be used to associate him with his d a n or
group C hild of the Biretuo clan o f Sekyere, Grandchild o f the
Buffalo (i.e. o f the Ckoma clan), or T h e white fowl spotted b y the
roving hawk (i.e. o f the Bosomtwe Ntoro group).2
Besides these ornamental lufmes, qualities are often dwelt on.
Benevolence in particular is frequently lauded in the dirges. It is
referred to in such stock phrases as 'T h e slender arm full o f
benevolence, Grandmother, the big cooking pot that entertains
strangers, Y o u are a m ighty tree with big branches laden w ith
fruit. W hen children come to you, they find something to eat', or
Fount o f satisfaction.3 Sym pathy and kindness are also picked
out: H e is a father to other peoples children, H e was like the
tree o f the plantain planted behind the house, that gave shade and
coolness ; and frequent references to the wisdom o f the dead are
expected, expressed b y the singer lamenting that she no longer
has anyone to give her advice. Fruitfulness is also com m only
described, and one o f the conventional comparisons is between
a fruitful woman and the okro fruit with its many seeds: M other
the okro, full o f the seeds o f m any issues and proven.' T h ese
stock ways o f referring to the deceased both elevate his good
points and bring home to the community the loss it has suffered.
W hile the person o f the deceased is the focus o f attention, there
are other themes. O ne o f the most frequent is that o f the ancestor.
A m ong the Akan, ancestry is important, both through the m other
(significant for most social purposes) and through the father w ho
represents the spiritual side. In dirges both types o f ancestry are
* Ibid., p. 33.

* Ibid., pp. 33-4.

Ibid., p. 35.

r
r
r

r
f
r
f
1

I
L

[
L

*56

Poetry

commemorated, and the fact brought out that a member o f two

social groups (the fathers and the mothers) has been lost. T h u s
the paternal ancestry o f the deceased is often referred to in special
name-clusters which indicate the ntoro (paternal group) o f the
person being mourned, names such as Nwanwanyane, offspring
o f the Leopard, or G yebiri Siaw Anim, the nobleman. References
to ancestors in the female line are even more common, and the
kinship o f the deceased to a series o f ancestors is emphasized.
Som e dirges concentrate almost completely on this theme. One
opens
Kotoku man and grandchild of the Vanguard o f Kotoku,
Grandchild of Ampoma: our lineage originates from Kotoku.
Grandchild of Baabu: our lineage hails from Kade . . . '
and then continues through the various relationships o f the de
ceased. Particularly in royal dirges one o f the ancestors may be
singled out for praise. A n ancestors bravery, skill, or leadership
may be mentioned. H is use o f power, for example, is dwelt on in
one dirge:
In the olden days, when you were
On your way to Akora Kusis house,
You would stumble over skulls;
Vultures got up to greet you;
Blue bottle flies buzzed round you,
As if to say, Alas!2
In this way the deceased can be praised indirectly through his
ancestors great deeds. A t funerals the Akan remind themselves
both that their ancestors too were once human beings and that
they themselves, as w ell as the deceased, are not without an
ancestry and a historic tradition o f which they can be proud. As
a mourner sings;
We are from Creation.
It was my people who first came here,
And were joined later by the Fante Hosts.
It was my grandfather that founded Komenda.
I am the grandchild of the Parrot that eats palm nuts.
It was my grandfather that weighed gold
And the scales broke into pieces under its weight.
Grandchild of Apea Korankye hails from Abooso.3
1 Nketia 1955, p. 22.

1 Ibid., p. 23.

2 Ibid., p. 26.

Elegiac P oetry

157

Rather similar to the theme o f ancestors is that o f places. T h e

identity o f the deceased (or his ancestors) is clarified b y adding
the name o f his home or place o f origin. (T h e link between the
dead and their mourners is often brought out b y the fact that they
share a com m on home.) T h is convention often introduces historic
evocations into a dirge. It also adds colour to the words, for it is
common for a descriptive phrase to be added to the name itself:
Asum egya Santemanso, where the leopard roars and comes to
town for its prey* or Hwerebe Akwasiase, where the Creator first
erected a fireplace and placed a beating stick b y it .1 References to
places can either be interspersed throughout the poem or, in
combination w ith the theme o f the ancestor, form the main
framework on which the whole dirge is built up.
W hile the main focus o f the dirge is on the deceased his
nature and qualities, his ancestors, his historic home the mourner
also makes certain reflections. T h e re are certain stock w ays in
which these are expressed. T h e dead man is often pictured as
setting out on a journey, so that part o f w hat the mourner is doing
is bidding him farewell 'Farew ell, thou priest or Receive con
dolences and proceed on.2 T h e sorrow o f parting is brought out
in stock phrases like 'I call him, but in vain, 'I would weep blood (if
only that w ould bring you back), or, w ith more passionate emphasis
on the mourners sense o f loss, 'I am in flooded waters. W ho w ill
rescue m e? and 'There is no branch above which I could grasp.
T h e mourner wishes for a continued friendship w ith the dead
man even when he reaches the w orld of spirits, and speaks o f
wishing to go w ith him, or to exchange gifts or messages; this is
w hy the singer so often asks the dead to send me something when
someone is coming an imaginative rather than a literal request.
T h e mourner expresses her sorrow and loss through particular
concrete images rather than through general statements about
death. Instead of speaking o f death taking away her support, she
sings T h e tree that gives shade and coolness has been hewn
down ; and, when she alludes to the shortness o f life, she uses the
conventional metaphor in w hich the duration o f life is compared
to the time a market woman takes to sell her goods W hat were
your wares that they are sold out so quickly?
Am ong all these various motifs and conventions o f content and
expression the individual mourner can select her own. T h e use o f
1 Ibid., p. 41.
8161814

* Ibid., p. 44.
M

158

Poetry

many o f the stock form s o f expression does not necessarily mean

a lack o f sincerity on her part or that she creates little artistic
impact. A s Nketia puts it, the traditional form s o f expression [are]
still pregnant w ith emotion to the Akan, expressions which are not
considered outworn in spite o f frequent use. 1

ill

Four main types o f dirge can be distinguished. A ll are built up

on the conventional themes and forms o f expression already
described, but they vary both in the arrangement o f the material
and in the scope given fo r the spontaneity o f the mourner.
T h e first, type 'A ', is the most stereotyped and dignified. T h is
kind o f dirge is short and marked by unity o f subject. Besides
mention o f the deceased, reference is normally made to ju st one
ancestor, one o f his qualities, and one single place. M any different
dirges o f this type can be built up about the same person; the same
ancestor can be brought in but with a different quality described;
or all the references could be changed, w ith a different ancestor
introduced and a different place o f dom icile, forming the
framework for another set o f dirges round that theme. In spite
o f the stereotyped structure, then, the possibility o f variation
according to the singers choice in a particular situation is mani
fold.
Such dirges open w ith a name, usually o f an ancestor, and this
theme is then taken up in the next portion o f the poem, referred
to as the subject, in w hich the ancestors qualities are mentioned.
H e m ay be associated w ith some historical event, or with some
message or observation. T h is portion o f the dirge .can be short or
long according to the theme chosen. T h is is followed b y a break,
a point at which the dirge name of the deceased is inserted. In
other words, until this point the dirge can be used for any member
o f the group associated with the ancestor, but the insertion o f the
dirge name ties the poem to a particular individual. After the
dirge name, the formal part o f the poem can be ended, often with
the theme o f the place o f origin and domicile. B y linking them
both to the same place, the ancestor mentioned in the opening
and the deceased ju st referred to by his dirge name are brought
together. T h e dirge m ay stop at this point, but if the mourner
< Nketia 1955, p. 49.

159

Elegiac Poetry

wishes she can extend it b y adding her own reflections in rather

less conventional style.
T y p e A dirges, then, can be seen to fall into four sections
(a) opening, (b) subject, (c) insertion, (d) close, followed by an
optional addition, (e) the extension. T h e structure can be illu
strated in the following example:
(a) Karikari Poti of Asumegya.
(b) When I am on the way, do not let me meet
Gye-me-di, the terror.
It is Karikari Poti, Gye-me-di, the terror
That spells death to those who meet him.
(c) Pampam Yiadom Boakye Akum-ntsm.
(<f) Grandchild of Karikari Poti hails from
Asumegya Santemanso
Where the leopard roars and comes to town for its prey.
(e) O, mother,
(What of) Your children and I.
O, mother,
Your children and I will feed on the spider,
The mouse is too big a game.1
T h ou gh dirges o f the other three types are somewhat less
stereotyped, similar detailed analyses could be made o f their
conventional structure. T y p e B is made up of a series o f short
stanzas w hich can follow each other in any order and are them
selves structured according to certain conventional patterns. An
example o f this type is the three-stanza dirge:
Grandchild of Boampon of Asokore clan
That walked in majesty amid flying bullets:
Child of a leading Spokesman.
He was an elephant tusk which I was going to use
for carving out a trumpet,
Ofori, child of Konkonti.
Father Apau that overpowers bullets:
Offspring of Nkwamfo Abredwom.
Alas! Death gave me no warning
so that I might get ready.
Mother will go: she has not come back yet.
I shall follow her.2
1 Ibid., pp. 57-8.

* Ibid., p. aoo.

i6o

Poetry

T y p e C dirges are constructed on cumulative linear stanzas,

sometimes marked off by a reflection or statement a simple style
often used for ordinary people. Such a dirge m ight open
Grandchild of Minta that hails from Dunkcsease.
Grandchild of Obceko Asamoa that hails from Bonkaben.
Grandchild of Obiyaa that hails from Aborodesu1
and so on through a dozen lines or so. Even in these very simple
dirges emotion is aroused through the connotations o f the names
introduced. Some women, however, do not consider this type to
possess much appeal or depth and instead prefer type D dirges.
T h is type, while not possessing the dignity o f the first two, has
the attraction of giving more scope to the mourners individual
emotions and reflections. T h e conventional themes are included
but may be woven into the dirge as the individual singer wishes.
Grandchild of grandsire K w aagyei quoted earlier is one example
of this type. Another is part of a dirge sung b y a Cape Coast
woman for her mother, a poem which begins lightly and gains
depth as the sorrow o f the mourner grows in intensity:
Mother! Mother!
Aba Yaa!
You know our plight!
Mother! you know our plight.
You know that no one has your wisdom.
Mother, you have been away long.
What of the little ones left behind ?
Alas!
Who would come and restore our breath,
Unless my father Adorn himself comes?
Alas! Alas! Alas!
Quite often it is a struggle for us!
It is a long time since our people left.
Amba, descendant o f the Parrot that eats palm nuts, hails from the
Ancestral chamber.
I cannot find refuge anywhere.
I, Amba Adoma,
It was my grandfather that weighed gold
And the scales broke under its weight.
* Nketia 195J, p. 65.

Elegiac Poetry

i 6i

I am a member of Grandsire Keses household:

We are at a loss where to 50:
Let our people come, for we are in deep distress.
When someone is coming, let them send us something.
Yes, I am the grandchild of the Parrot that eats palm nuts.'
A final example of this type illustrates how the conventional
themes and stock terms of address can be woven together into an
original piece by the mourner in w hich she can dwell at length on
the deceased and her own state. It was sung for a M ass Education
Officer who died in 1952, and is in the form of a continuous poem
with two slight breaks after father on whom I wholly depend :
Valiant Owusu,
The stranger on whom the citizen o f the town depends,
Father, allow my children and me to depend on you
So that we may all of us get something to eat,
Father on whom I wholly depend.
When father sees me, he will hardly recognize me.
He will meet me carrying an old torn mat and a horde o f flies.
Father with whom I confer,
M y childen and I will look to you.
Father on whom I wholly depend.
Killer-of-hunger,
My saviour,
Father the slender arm full of kindness,
Father the Rover whose footprints are on all paths.*
Certain types o f dirges are considered suitable for particular
occasions types A and *B\ for instance, are held to be more
dignified and thus appropriate for royal funerals but at any
funeral the mourner is free to sing whichever kind she prefers.
T h e detailed linguistic style and delivery o f dirges are also
discussed by Nketia.3 T h e diction is marked by the great fre
quency o f key-words throughout the pbems, terms closely asso
ciated with the main themes already mentioned. T h u s there is
constant use o f personal names, names o f places and sources o f
drinking water, ldnship terms and term s o f address, and, finally,
terms referring to an individuals clan or paternal group. Certain
verbs o f identification are also particularly common, for example,
1 Ibid, pp. 69-70.
* Especially chs. Si 7 -

1 Ibid., p. 71.

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Poetry

tie (to be) and fir i (to com e from ), which occur in conjunction with
the theme o f the ancestor and o f the place o f domicile. Besides
these key-words, all part o f the mourners stock-in-trade from
w hich she constructs her dirge, there are also conventional expres
sions used to describe someone's attributes or express farewell or
condolence. T h e deceased or his ancestor m ay be described and
praised by such set phrases as fount o f satisfaction, the big
cooking pot, 'large breast, or 'friend A d u : one on whom someone
depends . T h e mourner m ay also refer to her despair and sense of
loss b y using verbs w hich mean 'to get dark, to be flooded, to be
homesick or hungry fo r a person, or nouns like coolness, dark
ness or 'em pty house .
M any conventional arrangements form part o f the artistic style.
Th ese include name clusters, repetitions o f key-words, and such
combinations as, for instance, Asim Abcnaas grandchild-and-mymother comes from Ahensan, which follows the common pattern
b y w hich the term natia (grandchild) is combined with personal
names, kinship terms, and the verb fir i (come from ).1 Similar con
ventions can be observed in the structure o f sentences. O f the
varying patterns, the m ost common is a construction with a frontplaced nominal, that is, sentences opening with a name or name
cluster as in Ana Y aa K ani whose kola tree bears fruit out of
season or Asim Abcnaa o f Ahensan, the Queen o f old in whose
vessels we grind m illet. T h is placing o f names at the start of
sentences is a characteristic feature of the language o f Akan dirges
and forms a conventional basis on which chains o f reference can
be built up.
Apart from these specialized syntactical form s and certain
obscure names and figurative expressions, the language o f dirges
is relatively straightforward. Indeed the style as a whole is often
simple and the main units within the dirge (the stanzas) tend to
be short, in keeping w ith the circumstances o f the performance.
T h e compressed and allusive expression can also be connected
w ith this; names and historical events, for example, are referred
to briefly rather than described or narrated in full. B y these
means, in spite o f the ordinary language and short span of the
poem, a whole range o f highly charged impressions can be con
veyed.
1 Many other examples of such conventional collocations arc given in Nketia
as part of his detailed picture of linguistic conventions in dirges, pp. 86-93.

163

Elegiac Poetry

W hen the prosody of Akan dirges is considered, it is clear that

there is no even beat in a piece as a whole, though there is a
scattered use o f prosodic patterns o f various kinds throughout the
poem. Stress is not significant and there is no systematic use o f
tones or syllables. There is, however, a diffused occurrence o f tonal
and phonological patterns. T h ese depend on the nature o f the
lines or linear units in dirges. Th ese units are relatively easily
identified through a number o f phonological and grammatical
forms w hich mark them off, such as a concluding particle (ee, 00),
pause, or sob; parallel formation within a line; break in sequence
marked b y repetition or pronoun referring back; and occasional
end-patterning (frequently tonal). W ithin linear units there is often
repetition o f single phonological terms (as, for instance, the s in
the line Dsoro re mereren arare), o f syllables and groups o f syllables
in words (e.g. Sakratetu, onye butuioo), or o f words or segments
(e.g. Ycse ym rti nton, ym ni abusua). Repetitions o f tone patterns
also occur within lines; for example, in die line odihye ddm foib 5i
dam, the high tone dam is in each case preceded by a low tone, and
the repetition o f the low -high sequence is noticeable. W ithin
groups o f lines similar repetitions can be observed: whole lines
may be repeated, the first or second halves o f succeeding lines
may be identical, or there may b e cross repetitions w ith the word
or w ords in the end position appearing again at the beginning o f
the following line. T h is prosody o f repetition*, which is copiously
illustrated b y Nketia,1 fulfils some o f the functions o f rhythm and
brings out the poetic style conventionally associated with Akan
dirges.
T h is poetic flavour is further marked by the musical features
o f the dirge. I t is true that, for the Akan, the verbal content o f the
dirge is paramount; Nketia quotes the remark that it is not so
m uch the beauty of the voice as the depth o f the verbal forms, in
particular the range o f the praise appellations that counts.2 How
ever, musical aspects o f form and performance also play some
part in the artistry o f the dirge as actually heard.3
T h ere are two different w ays o f singing dirges. T h e first is to
adopt a type of wailing voice in w hich the words o f the dirge are
spoken* and the contours of the melody reflect the speech con
tours o f the performer, sometimes accompanied b y a few tuneful
1 Nketia 1955, pp. 77.
1 Ibid., especially ch. 7.

* Ibid., p. 113.

164

Poetry

fragments. T h ere are special musical conventions for the treatment

o f interjections, and this type o f delivery also gives scope for the
use of the sob, which is often uttered on the syllable hi and rapidly
repeated perhaps five or six times. T h e other form is more purely
musical. A fairly normal singing voice is used, with m elodic
contours resembling those o f songs. However, there is a general
tendency for dirge melodies to begin high and move down to a
low resting point at the close. T h ere are some traditional tunes
associated with fragments o f dirges, but in the main, w hichever
musical mode she employs, the singer makes up her own tunes as
she goes along. Unlike many other types o f songs, the rhythm o f
Akan dirges is free in the sense that there is no handclapping or
percussion accompaniment to the singing, nor is it intended for
dancing. T h is, in conjunction with the fact that the mourner her
self acts as both soloist and chorus, gives the individual m ourner
greater scope to treat the subject in her own manner, w ithout
reference to others present, and to express her own feelings in the
words and melodies she chooses.IV

IV
T h e occasions of the Akan dirge are easily described. It is a
literary form expressly composed and performed for the occasion
o f a funeral and it takes its place alongside such other social expres
sions as drumming, the firing o f guns, singing, wailing, and
speaking. Indeed, some o f Nketias informants were unw illing or
unable to reproduce their dirges apart from the stimulation o f an
actual funeral; as they frequently explained, they could not utter
the words o f the dirge without shedding tears or fasting.1
Funerals are important and memorable events among the Akan.
T h e y usually open with the preparation o f the corpse, a stage at
which no dirges are sung. In the second phase of public mourning,
however, dirge singing is a central part o f the proceedings. A s
Nketia describes it:
From among the confused noises will be heard the voice o f many a
woman mourner singing a dirge in pulsating tones in honour of the
dead or his ancestors or some other person whose loss she is reminded
by the present death, for One mourns ones relation during the funeral
of another person. . . . The dirge is made the culminating point o f the
1 Nketia 195s, p. a.

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E legiac Poetry

preparation for the funeral as well as the beginning o f public mourning.

G rief and sorrow may be persopal and private, nevertheless Akan so
ciety expects that on the occasion of a funeral they should be expressed
publicly through the singing of the dirge.1
D urin g this stage the women who sing the dirges pace about among
those attending the funeral, pausing before the corpse or the chief
mourners. Though there is no dancing to dirges, the singer makes
gestures and gracefully rocks her head to add to the pathos o f what
she sings, and, like the ch ief mourners, she .too is expected to fast
as a sign o f the sincerity o f her anguish. T h ere is great freedom as
to how and what any perform er sings, for dirges are not normally
an organized performance, so that the individual can draw on her
own resources and originality to express and evoke the emotion
she is expected to feel. A s the funeral ceremonies go on, the dirges
tend to become fewer and fewer, partly because the singers
becom e worn out b y the physical and emotional strain o f fasting,
anguished lament, and pacing about the public gathering. N ever
theless, occasional dirges are heard from tim e to tim e until the
end o f the funeral:
T h e funeral dirge is heard with diminishing frequency and from fewer
and fewer mourners, though it rarely ceases until the funeral is over.
A sudden outburst is heard from time to time from a relation while all
others may be resting. And so the funeral goes on until after the third
day of the event of death when fasting and mourning cease.*
T h e funeral is sometimes followed by remem brance ceremonies
som e weeks after the death ; some dirges are sung on these occa
sions, but they play a relatively minor part.
V ery occasionally dirges are heard outside the context o f a
funeral. But funerals remain the conventional setting, and at them
dirges are obligatory. In this context the dirge is, above all, a
means of praising the dead person. H e is honoured and mourned,
and, as well, the general links between the past and present, the
living and the dead, arc brought out in stock themes. T h e sorrow
felt by the mourners at the funeral is not only expressed in this
conventional form, but can actually be heightened by a skilled
singer who evokes the pathos o f the situation through her passionate
utterances. T h ese dirges, in fact, form the mainstay o f any funeral
particularly at the outset; it is only towards the later stages that
1 Ibid., p. 8.

* Ibid., p. 15.

i66

Poetry

the dirges o f th e women are reinforced and finally replaced b y

m usic and dancing.
T h e A kan funeral dirge is a conventional medium of expression,
with its own canons o f form, theme, and delivery as well as its
own traditional occasion when it is performed. There are certain
stock form s o f phraseology w hich are regarded as obligatory, and
errors in these are quickly corrected. Nevertheless, within these
limits both variations and scope for individual creativeness are
possible. Traditionally all Akan girls were expected to learn how
to sing and compose dirges. T h e y had to master the traditional
themes and language, but when perform ing they were free to
exercise their individual tastes and express their own sentiments.
T h e dirges are thus both fixed and flexible. For the Akan the
funeral dirge is a form recognized not only for its clear social
importance but also for its aesthetic merit. Far from being random
or w holly spontaneous, the Akan dirge has its own complex and
sophisticated conventions, a literary tradition at the service o f the
individual composer.

RELIGIOUS .POETRY
Introductory. Didactic and narrative religious poetry and die
Islamic tradition; the Swahili tours. Hymns, prayers, and
incantations: general remarks; the Fante Methodist lyric.
Mantic poetry: Sotho divining verses; odu Ifa (Yoruba).
Conclusion

T here

is a great variety o f religious poetry in A frica. There are

hym ns, prayers, praises, possession songs, and'oracular poetry, all
w ith their varying conventions, content, and function in different
cultures. T h e y range from the simple one- or two-line songs o f
Senegalese women in spirit possession rituals1 or the mystical
songs o f Southern Rhodesia w ith their many nonsense words2 to
the specialized hym ns to W est African deities or the elaborate
corpus o f Ifa oracular literature which is so striking a phenomenon
am ong the Yoruba o f Southern Nigeria. W e should also take
account of the prevalence in certain areas of the religious literature
associated with the influence o f the world religions in Africa. Th ere
is the Arabic-influenced poetry o f the Swahili in E ast Africa and
o f Islamized peoples such as the Fulani or H ausa in the northern
portions o f W est A frica; the ecclesiastical poetry, associated with
the Coptic Church, o f the dabteras of Ethiopia; and, from less
ancient origins, hymns and lyrics arising from the recent impact
o f Christian missions in many parts o f the continent.3 In these
cases it is common for a written tradition o f religious literature to
coexist, and to some extent overlap, with an oral tradition.'*
T h ere are three main ways in which poetry can be regarded as
being religious. Firstly, the content may be religious, as in verse
about mythical actions o f gods or direct religious instruction or
invocation. Secondly, the poetry may be recited b y those w ho are
> G . Balandier, Femmes poss6des et leurs chants, Prifence aft. 5, 1948.
* Tracey 19*9, p. 99.
1 On Ethiopia see Chadwicks iii, 1940, pp. 503 ff. and further references
given in Ch. 3, p. 51. On Islamic and Christian poetry see below.
4 It is because of this overlap that I have not thought it
to
include some consideration o f the largely written religious poetry in Swahili.

inappropriate

i68

Poetry

regarded as religious specialists. T h irdly, it m ay be performed on

occasions which are generally agreed to be religious ones. These
three criteria do not always coincide. H ym ns, for example, m ay
have definite religious content and be sung on religious occasions,
but they may or may not be performed b y religious experts;
oracular poetry m ay be recited by priests (as in Yoruba divination)
but neither the content nor the occasion be markedly religious;
and didactic verse, like that o f the Swahili, may have a theological
content and be recited by specialists but not, it seems, be performed
on particularly religious occasions. I do not want to propose any
strict definition o f religion here; the reader may exclude any
examples that seem to him to be only marginally religious or
include certain types of poetry such as lyric or dirges that have
been treated in other chapters. However, I am not including here
poetry that is religious only in the sense that it is performed on
ritual occasions such as the ceremonies to do with initiation,1
marriage, or death.2
i
Though didactic and narrative elements are sometimes found
in a rudimentary form in the invocations and divination literature
that will be discussed later, they do not typically appear in A frica
as developed poetic forms. M yth s tend to appear in prose rather
than verse2 and the songs embedded in them are not usually inde
pendent enough to count as narrative religious poems in them
selves. Histories sometimes appear in verse with certain religious
overtones as, for instance, the Akan drum history quoted in
Chapter 17 and praise and elegy for dead ancestors m ay in a
sense be both religious and narrative; but the religious aspect does
seem to be somewhat secondary in terms o f content, occasion, and
performer. T h e same is true for the poems associated with initia
tion and other rituals when these are religious in content they
are more concerned with invocation or praise than any explicitly
didactic interest.
Islamic verse is the exception. In the areas where Arabic models
have been influential through the tradition o f Islam, religious
1 See, for example, some of the initiation texts given in Dietcrlen 1965.
* Dirges are considered in Ch. 6, marriage and initiation songs, etc., mentioned
in Ch. 9; some further references on initiation songs are given in Ch. 8, p. 206.
2 Though see the discussion in Ch. 13, pp. 361 ff.

R eligious Poetry

169

poetry, often in written form, occurs with a pronounced homiletic

and sometimes narrative emphasis. Such religious poetry occurs,
for instance, among the H ausa and others in W est A frica. Although
written in the local language, it is often directly influenced by the
A rabic models and contains m any Arabic words and sentiments.1
T h ese poems typically open w ith some such invocation as
In the name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful; and may the
peace o f God be upon him after whom there is no prophet
and continue in a didactic fashion about, for example, the deceitfulness of this life, Heaven, H ell, pilgrimage to M ecca, exhorta
tions to follow Moham m ed, or prayers for divine assistance. T h is
religious literature is a specialist form, often w ith named authors
learned in Islam, and for its composition and propagation it relies
prim arily on the written word. Never heless, it is not totally
divorced from the oral tradition, and there are instances of these
religious poems being transmitted both orally and through writing;
it is not always clear how they began. A n example is T h e song of
Bagauda . T h is is a long H ausa poem said to b e o f great antiquity
w hich runs to over tw enty pages in the Hausa text. It includes
a prelude (doxology and eulogy o f M ohammed), a list o f Hausa
kings, and a long hom ily on the frailty o f this world, expressed in
a form typical of Islam ic tradition with eschatological material
from the Koran and the conventional stock o f im ages; it closes
w ith rulings on points o f M uslim law. T h e w hole is set in a free
form o f a classical Arabic metre and rhyme system (qasida form,
toafir metre and rhyme throughout in wa). In spite o f its length
and form, this primarily religious poem seems to have flourished
in both oral and literate forms. Hiskett, its recent editor, was able
to collect a text from an old Hausa woman and reports that it is
also sung by beggars.1
1 Migeod ii, 1913, ch. 18. On Hausa, see C . H. Robinson, Specimens of Hausa
Literature, Cambridge, 1896; Tremeame 1913, pp. 70-2; Paden 1965; A. Mischlich, Religiose und weltliche Gesange der Mohammedaner aus dem Sudan,
Afrika [Berlin] 2. 3, 1943 (not seen). On similar Fulani instances in various
parts o f West Africa see e.g. Ba 1950; Pfeffer 1939; Monod 1948; E. F. Sayers,
In Praise of the Faith of Futa and a Warning to Unbelievers a Fula Poem with
Introductory Note and Translation, Sierra Leone Studies o.s. 13, 1928; Lacroix
1965; Mohamadou 1963. On Songhai, B. Hama, L esprit de la culture sonrhaie,
Presence afr. 14/13, 19S7 , P* X53 1 M . Hiskett, The "Song of Bagaudu : a Hausa K ing List and Homily in
Verse , B S O A S 27-8, 1964-5-

170

Poetry

T h e same sort o f phenomenon appears in Swahili in East

Africa. H ere too there is a strong w ritten tradition w hich includes
religious poetry. It can be traced directly to Arabic m odels.1 T h is
literary tradition goes back som ething like three hundred years
and was a m edium o f expression w hich had its origin in the M uslim
religion, although it was later used for secular verse. Both Islam
and the Arabian models used for its expression may have had their
origin outside the area: but the tradition came to be a national
Swahili one, influenced and m oulded b y the genius o f the Swahili
language and culture. Verse composition after the Arabian
pattern involved the question o f pride in Swahili origins; it re
vealed knowledge o f Arabian life and o f Islam, a sure guarantee
for the highest prestige among the Swahili people.2
T h ere are many different types o f Swahili verse, but they can
roughly be divided into the shorter lyric forms and the m uch
longer didactic or narrative poems called tenzi(sing, u tenzi; northern
dialect tendi/utetidi). T h e first form is closely related to oral tradi
tions and appears sometimes in written, sometimes in oral form :
it is not easy to classify definitely into literary and popular
sections.3 T h e tenzi, however, depend much more on a written
form ; sometimes indeed they are said to be written as m uch for the
eye as for the ear, and there seems to be less of an overlap between
the w ritten and oral forms o f such Swahili poems than w ith the
corresponding form s in Hausa. Nevertheless, though in the first
instance the tenzi were written, they were designed for public
performance; they were chanted aloud, sometimes by the com
poser himself, to musical accompaniment.4 A n d it seems clear
that the existence o f such a wide-spread and valued tradition must
have had a profound effect on the w hole Swahili literary tradition,
oral as w ell as written.5
1 A great deal of work has been done on this written literature. There is a
general discussion with examples (original and translation) in the recent books by
Harries (Harries 1962, supplemented by the bibliographic material in the review
by J. Knappert in A fr. Studies 23, 1964), and Knappert (1967b), os well as in
earlier writings by Banner, Velten, Werner, Allen, Dammann, and others (see
bibliography under Swahili in IA I Bibliography (A) by R. Jones, East Africa,
1960; and M . van Spanndonck, Practical and Systematical Stcahili Bibliography,
Leiden, 1965).
2 Harries 1962, p. 2.
* Werner 1917-20, p. 119.
4 Harries 1962, p. 24.
* See, for instance, the modem Swahili ballad published in P. Lienhardt
1968, which, though purely oral, is in the traditional utenzi form. In some areas,
e.g. Pemba, the connection with oral tradition seems to have been even closer
(see Whiteley 1958).

Religious Poetry

171

Swahili tenzi1 are long religious poems containing either homi

letic material or a narrative treatment o f the deeds of M uslim
heroes, including the deeds o f war. M ore recently other secular
material has also been included, but the main emphasis is still
strongly Islamic. T h e poems are marked by deep religious inspira
tion, and the conventional opening, whatever the subject, is a
praise of God and his prophet. T h e narratives are based, more or
less closely, on Arabian traditions; however, the models do not
seem to have been followed exactly, and in the case of tenzi based
on the general prose accounts o f events relating to the Prophet,
th e poets were free to treat this material as they wished. T o
mention just a few, such narrative tenzi include accounts o f the
deeds o f Job, M iqdad, or Joseph, a dispute between Moses and
M ohammed as to w hich is the greater, the epic o f Heraclios de
picting the legend o f a H oly W ar against the Byzantine Christians,
and a popular version o f the death o f the Prophet.
A typical example o f the way in which a religious tone pervades
the narrative can b e seen in the Utendi via Ras al-Ghuli, the story
o f Ras al-ghul. T h is deals with the adventures o f the Prophets
Companions when they were avenging a M uslim woman whose
children had been killed by a pagan king. T h e events are set in
Arabia and the poem opens in characteristic form with praise o f
G od and a description o f the copyists materials and methods. It
continues:
Take down the beginning of the story / One day, we understand, /
there appeared the Beloved / Our Prophet the Bringer o f News.
A t his coming forth, the Trusted One / went to the mosque / there
inside the building / at the time of dawn.
After he had arrived / He called for Bilali / He called for him to call
the people to prayer quickly / for the time had come.
And Bilali called them to prayer / sending out the cry / and the people
heard / from the elders to the children.
And the Companions met together / all o f them together / both Ali
and Othman / as well as Shaikh Umar.
The leading Helpers / they were all present / with no one absent / and
so Abu Bakr was there also.
1 This section is mainly based on Harries 196a, ch. 3, which contains a con
venient synthesis and collection of much of die earlier work on this form of
verse. See also Knappert 1966, 1967.

172

Poetry

When all had arrived / the Prophet came forward / to lead the people
in prayer / with a high voice.
After they had prayed / giving thanks to the Glorious God / the
Companions with Shaikh Ali / and the congregation o f the
Helpers.
They were inside the mosque j studying the holy books / when almost
at once / they discerned a cloud of dust.
The Companions watched / and saw people coming / all riding camels /
the number of them being ten.
They were coming in a hurry / and on arriving at the mosque / they
proceeded to dismount / watering the camels.
And the leader of the party / a woman o f distinction / giving greeting /
and asking for the Prophet.
She spoke straightway / saying, Where is the Prophet / the Beloved
of the Glorious God ? / Show me without delay.
She said, Where is the Prophet / the beloved of the Beloved / our
Prophet Muhammad / who sets at nought the infidels ?

/1

Show me the Exalted One / the Prophet of the Bountiful God

have
come an oppressed person / that I may give him my news.1
T h e woman gives a long account o f her suffering, then the miracu
lous events o f the story are recounted, ending with the victory o f
the Prophet and his friends over the pagans.
Popular epics of this kind were intended for public performance.
T h ey were meant to amuse and elevate the uneducated masses
who liked to see their religious, social, and political ideals realized
in the history o f former times, and occasionally it is still possible
to find a utendi being intoned in public on the veranda o f a house.
Public recital ensured that at least the gist o f the story would reach
the ears o f the ordinary man.*.
T h e shorter homiletic tensi were intended for a more limited
audience and were often directed at younger members of the
community as instruction in religious and social behaviour. T h e
most famous o f these is the seventy-nine-line Inkishafi, Revela
tion, a poem composed in the early nineteenth century on the
theme that all men must die, the glory o f this world passes away,
and w e await judgement in the next world. T h e poet meditates on
the transitoriness o f life and the danger o f eternal damnation, and
looks into his own heart for the title really implies the revealing
1 Harries 1962, pp. 29-31-

* Ibid., pp. 27, 24.

R eligious Poetry

173

or uncovering o f his own heart and soul. Another well-known

didactic poem is Utendi tea M toana Kupona, a mothers instruc
tions to her daughter about her w ifely duties. E ven such household
instructions are permeated w ith religious sentiments:
Attend to me my daughter / unworthy as I am of Gods award /
Heed my last instructions / for it may be that you will apply
yourself to them.
Sickness has seized upon me j and has now lasted a whole year /
I have not had a chance to utter / a word o f good advice to you.
Come forward and set yourself J with ink and paper / I have matters
at heart / that I have longed to tell you.
Now that you are near / Write, In the Name of God / name of Him
and the Beloved / together with his Companions.
When you have thus acknowledged / the Name of God the Mighty /
then let us pray for His bounty / as God shall deem fit for us.
A son of Adam is nought / and the world is not ours / nor is there any
man / who shall endure for ever.
M y child, accept my advice / together with my blessing / God will
protect you / that He may avert you from evil.
Take this amulet that I give you / fasten it carefully upon a cord /
regard it as a precious thing / that you may cherish it with care.
Let me string for you a necklace / of pearls and red coral / let me
adorn you as a beautiful woman / when it shines upon your neck.
For love let me give you a clasp / a beautiful one without flaw / wear
it upon your neck / and you shall perceive benefits.
While you shall hold to my counsel / my child, you shall escape
trouble / you shall pass through this world / and cross over to
the next.1
A fter this affectionate opening, the mother goes on to instruct her
daughter as to her religious duties, her duties to her husband,
household management, and kindness to the poor, followed, by her
ow n confession o f faith as a M uslim . It concludes:
Read, all you women / so that you may understand / that you may
bear no blame / in the presence of God the Highest.
Read, you who are sprouts of wheat / obey your menfolk / so that you
may not be touched by the sorrows / of the after-life and of this.
* Ibid., pp. 73-5.

small

174

Poetry

She who obeys her husband / hers are honour and charm / wherever
she shall go / her fame is published abroad.
She who composed .this poem / is one lonely and sorrowful / and the
greatest o f her sins / Lord, Thou wilt her forgive.1
In form the tenzi are modelled on Arabic poetry. Each line
is divided into four parts (sometimes written as separate lines),
o f which the first three rhyme and the fourth acts as a terminal
rhyme throughout the poem. T h is terminal rhyme is often a
double vowel, and though these do not always rhyme to ou r ears
(they m ay be -iya, -eya, -ua, -owa, etc.), added length can be
given to both o f the vowels in actual reading or recitation.
There is a conventional dialect in w hich tenzi are written, but,
unlike the involved syntax o f lyrics, the narrative is expressed
in a straightforward manner. T h e stock themes and form in
particular the opening prayers and invocations to G od, the
great emphasis on the frailty o f this world, exhortations to re
ligious duty, and the torment o f the wicked are strikingly similar
to the corresponding Hausa ones from the other side o f the
continent.
T h is ten zi form has by no means lost its popularity in East
Africa. I t frequently appears in the vernacular press, now m ainly
written in the Roman as distinct from the traditional A rabic
Swahili script. I t is now also sometimes employed as a vehicle for
Christian rather than Islamic doctrine, as in the utenzi reported
by K nappert in which passages from the Gospel have been cast
in the traditional epic style,2 or for political expression as in the
utenzi about N yereres life, recited in his presence following his
inauguration as President in 1965.3 A s has frequently been
pointed out, this form o f verse, w ith its conventional prosody and
themes, lends itself to indefinite longueurs'4 in the hands o f a
poetaster; but, treated by a master, it can result in magnificent
epic poetry.
T h o u gh th e extent and antiquity o f the Swahili tradition o f
religious verse is probably unparalleled in subsaharan A frica, it
Harries 1962, pp. 85-7.
1 J. Knappert, T he First Christian Utenzj: a New Development in Swahili
Literature , A fr. u. Vbertee 47, 1964.
* Z. Himid, Utenzi wa Muheshimiwa Rais wa Tanzania 28.9.65* [Epic of the
Hon. the President o f Tanzania, 28 Sept. 1965], Swahili 36, 1966.
4 Wemer 1928, p. 355.

Religious Poetry

175

is proper to remind ourselves that the influence o f Islam, unlike

that o f Christianity, has a long history in several parts of the con
tinent. T h e literary tradition that accompanied it, to a greater or
lesser degree in different areas, may be particularly evident and
well documented am ong such peoples as the Swahili, Somali,
Hausa,' Fulani, or M andingo and have resulted there in many
well-known compositions in the local languages. But it may well
have had an even wider literary impact to an extent that still
remains to be explored.
11
Apart from Islam ic verse the most common type o f religious
poetry in A frica seems to be the hymn. A common feature of this
form is that the religious content consists o f invocation or supplica
tion rather than narrative, and is sometimes closely allied to
panegyric.1 T h e detailed subject-matter and context, however,
vary greatly with the differing religious beliefs and institutions of
each people.
It is among certain W est African peoples that hymns are de
veloped in their most specialized form. T h is is in keeping with the
elaborate pantheon o f divinities recognized b y such peoples as the
Yoruba, Fon, or Akan. Am ong the Yoruba, for instance, each
divinity has not only his own specialist priests and customary
form s of worship, but also his own symbolic associations, his
iconography, and his literature, including both myths and
hymns.
Thus, for example, the Yoruba divinity Eshu-Elegba (the
messenger deity and god o f mischief) has Ids own cult of wor
shippers with their special rituals and organization. H e is repre
sented sculpturally in shrines according to special conventions
w hich also appear in the insignia worn by his worshippers and in
bas-relief representations, with the recurrent motifs o f a club,
whistle, high head-dress, cowries, and the colour black. T h e
praises o f Eshu chanted b y his particular worshippers and priests
bring out his paradoxical nature: he is shown as big and small,
youngest and oldest, black and white, one w ho defies boundaries
1 In some cases (e.g. Yoruba oriki) the same term and conventions are used for
praises of both deities and humans; in others (e.g. South African Bantu) praise
poetry is confined to humans.

176

Poetry

and limitations with gay abandon. 1 H is hymns (or praises) are

expressed as a series of paradoxes:
When he is angry he hits a stone until it bleeds.
When he is angry he sits on the skin o f an ant.
When he is angry he weeps tears of blood.
Eshu, confuser of men.
The owners of twenty slaves is sacrificing,
So that Eshu may not confuse him.
The owner of thirty iwofa [pawns] is sacrificing,
So that Eshu may not confuse him.
Eshu confused the newly married wife.
When she stole the cowries from the sacred shrine of Oya.*
She said she had not realized
That taking two hundred cowries was stealing.
Eshu confused the head of the queen
And she started to go naked.
Then Eshu beat her to make her cry.
Eshu, do not confuse me!
Eshu, do not confuse the load on my head . . ,J
Eshu slept in the house
But the house was too small for him.
Eshu slept on the verandah
But the verandah was too small for him.
Eshu slept in a nut
A t last he could stretch himself.
Eshu walked through the groundnut farm.
The tuft of his hair was just visible.
If it had not been for his huge size,
He would not have been visible at all.
Having thrown a stone yesterday he kills a bird today.
Lying down, his head hits the roof.
Standing up he cannot look into the cooking pot.
Eshu turns right into wrong, wrong into right.4
T h e obscure and poetic nature o f these Yoruba hymns, con
cerned more with praise and allusive imagery than with inter
cession, can be further illustrated b y another example taken from
Vergers great collection of Yoruba hym ns.5 This is the hym n to
1 J. Westcott, The Sculpture and Myths of Eshu-Elegba, the Yoruba
Trickster, Africa 32, 1962.
* Goddess of river Niger, wife of Shango.
5 Metaphor for 'relatives.
* Gbadamosi and Beier 1959, p. 13.
* Verger 1957 *

R eligious Poetry

177

Shango, the powerful and violent god o f thunder, praised in the

poem under many different titles. O nly about half o f th e full text
is given:
Logun Leko ne me donne pas tort, que ma parole soit correcte
Lakuo peut bruler toutes ies terres
Le tonnerre a brise la maison dc Are pere du chasseur Mokin
La mort a amene lelephant dans la ville . . .
Mon Seigneur qui dune scute pierre de foudre a tue six personnes
Logun Leko qui fait beaucoup de bruit sans rien faire
Trfes sale et tres tetu, gifle lc proprietaire de la maison et empoigne
lamala
II le coupe en morceaux, il fait de la tete un remede
II prend lenfant tetu et lattachc commc un mouton
Ceint dun tablier dargent il entre dans la ville
Sur la tfite dun ose il monte et part
Il se bat comme la tornade dans la ville, il monte en spirale sur un
arbre Odan et part
Lorsquil a tue quelquun il accroche sa jambe dans un arbre arere
Amugbekun rit sans ouvrir la bouche
Baba Oje Ibadan p^netre dans la broussc ct poursuit le danger
Mon seigneur qui coupe unc tete comme un regime de noix de
palme
Contrariety venue comme le signe Oyeku sur le plateau de Ifa
Mon seigneur qui fait lutter le mari et la femme ensemble . . .
Mon coeur nest pas perdu, j irai avec lui Shango
Roi qui prend celui-ci et qui prend celui-la
Il est difficile d'etre en sa compagnie
Il dit que pour le proprietaire tout est fini
L enfant mange tout ce quil trouve
Il rit lorsquil va chez Oshun
Il reste longtemps dans la maison dOya
N i Ogun ni Shango ne revfclent aucun secret
Revenant puissant pour lequel nous roulons le mortier
Ldopard qui tue le mouton et se lave avec le sang
I] lorgne brutalcment vers le menteur
L e Sorcier Lakin Sokun chauffe la maison avec son souffle (?)
Mon seigneur qui fait se sauver celui qui a raison
L e menteur se sauve avant meme quil ne lui parle
Ldopard pere de Timi
Il attend ce qui nous a fait peur
Il les brise par centaincs
Il verse tous les gens dans la forge
Mon seigneur, la forge devient le lit de tous les grands

Poetry

178

II se bat sans avoir tort

II ddtruit la maison dun autre et y met la sicnne dcrrierc
II a battu deux cents personncs dans la foret et brise la foret autour
avec son dos
II y a beaucoup de debris au-dessus
Orifa qui ayant dejk tue Efun Doyin, veut encore se battre
Lagun se ferme commc une calcbassc dhuile
II monte sur Ie mouton sans tomber
Resistant comme la radne de tipe
II monte sur le kapokier et le fait tomber dlracine
II est sombre, calmement comme enfant dune femme qui prepare
lindigo.
Settlement quelquun qui ne touche jamais terre
II ny a pas dos qui ressemble aux dents
Balogun Ed? tue les gens
Asusu Masa est amer commc la fcuille degbesi
II rit et ne crie pas
II ny a pas de danger pour moi cn presence de Oiukoso
II va en dansant gbangu de Ibadan jusquk Oyo . . .
Pfere de honneur (Nom de Shango)
Propritaire talisman (Nom de Shango)
It grille les intcstins et les mange
Meme dans les jours de detrcsse il y a des recoltes et Shango mange
de la p&te
II tue le pfere, la m b sur lenfant
Enleve son penis et le met sur son pantalon
Sa poitrine est brulante comme la brousse du pied du palmier
Entortille comme la jambe de lanimal send
II transforme le pilier dune maison et le fait devenir immense comme
Olokun
Si Olokun est immense Shango egalement est immense
II fait bruler le fils de Olumgn (Egba) dans le feu de Aragunan
II &rase le talisman de mon chef de mabon
II prend aupr& de ceux qui ne possedent pas ce que nous lui souhaitons
II est trfes sale comme Eshu et se tient, une jambe tendue et lautre
plide
l6phant qui marche avec dignity
Regardez 'cldphant lever aisdment une patte guerriere, ldopard pere
de T im i. . .
II menace le mMc, il menace la femelle, il menace lhomme important,
il menace le riche
'
L indbcret qui veut decouvrir le secret de Oiukoso ne restera pas au
monde

Religious Poetry

179

Celui qui respecte le secret, mon seigneur lui facilitera les

choses
11 prend quelquun, il tue quelquun
Il danse avec precision en regardant vers le ciel k la d^robee
Aki Rabata danse avec les gens
Il saute hors de la maison si ellc brule
Si la maison brule il sort et rit apres . . .
Si la pluie tombe il dit quil ny a pas de feu
Si auto arrive que les gens accroupis sc (event de la route
S &oigner du serpent dont on na pas coupe la tte
Le feu brule celui qu'il connalt
La pluie mouillant lortie, eteint son feu.1

T h e hymns o f some other African peoples are very different

from these elaborate praises of Yoruba gods. Praise may be re
placed b y an emphasis on prayer, supplication, or consideration
o f the relations o f man to god(s). T h is seems to be true, for instance,
o f many o f the hym ns o f the Dinka, a people o f the Nilotic group
famous for its special type o f monotheism, emphasis on Spirit, and,
at the same time, general lack o f any developed priesthood. W e
can see the reflective nature o f the first o f two short hymns quoted
by Lienhardt and, in the second, the tone o f complaint and de
mand characteristic o f Dinka hymns. In each Divinity* is ap
proached directly and simply, and the poetic effectiveness is
created partly through the use o f vivid visual images from the
everyday world:
Great d en g is near, and some say far*
0 Divinity
The creator is near, and some say he has not reached us*
Do you not hear, O Divinity?
The black bull of the rain has been released from the moons byre.1
Do you not hear, O Divinity?1
1 have been left in misery indeed,
Divinity, help me!
Will you refuse [to help] the ants'of this country?4

1
1

Vergerimage
1957. PP- 34 * - 8 , 354- 5The
is of the clouding over of the penumbra of the moon.

1 G. Lienhardt, Divinity and Experience, the Religion o f the Dinka, Oxford,

1961, p. 38.
* In religious contexts the Dinka often speak of themselves as 'ants in the
sight of Divinity, thus looking at themselves as they may be supposed to appear
in the eyes of Divinity.

Poetry

i8 o

When we have the clan-divinity DENG

Our home is called Lies and Confusion*.1
What is all this for, O Divinity ?
Alas, am your child.12

When we come to the hymns o f the Bushmen o f southern Africa

we find the aspect o f supplication taken still further. Th ere are
no priests among the Bushmen and, for certain northern groups at
least, invocations to their gods are said to take place spontaneously
when the thought comes to them.3 Consonant with the continual
difficulties and scarcities o f Bushman life, the topics o f their
invocations are the day-to-day material needs with which they are
preoccupied:
You have created me and given me power to walk about and hunt.
Why do you lead me in the wrong way so that I find no animals ?3
In these examples, often characterized by a mixture of mild im
precation and pleading, the prayer is more marked than the praise
or worship often associated with 'hym ns . T h e same emphasis on
praying and the demand for daily needs also comes out in the prayers
o f some southern Bushman groups, where there is a conventional
form into which such prayers are thrown. Each poem, or each o f
its verses, opens with an invocation to the moon, sun, or stars: Ho
Moon lying there or O Star coming there, and so on. T h is is
followed b y a prayer for life (that is, a prayer for food), made
the more intense by the repetition and parallelism o f the
expression:
Ho Moon lying there,
Let me early to-morrow see an ostrich,
As the ostrich sits on the eggs,
Let me whisk out the yolk
With a gemsbok tail hair (brush)
Which sits together upon a little stick
Upon which the gemsbok tail sits.4
1 Meaning that everything is going wrong, since people deceive and distrust
each other.
1 Lienhardt, op. cit., p. 4$. This is only part of a complete hymn, but most
Dinka hymns seem in fact to be short, a few lines only.
3 L . Marshall in J. L. Gibbs (ed.), Peoples o f Africa, New York, 196s, p. 276.
4 D . F. Bleek 1929, p. 306.

R eligious Poetry

181

A similar pattern can be seen in the famous Prayer to the young

moon :
Young Moon!
Hail, Young Moon!
Hail, hail,
Young M oon!
Young Moon! speak to me!
Hail, hail,
Young Moon!
Tell me of something.
Hail, hail!
When the sun rises,
Thou must speak to me,
That I may eat something.
Thou must speak to me about a little thing,
That I may eat.
Hail, hail,
Young M oon!1
T h e same emphasis on intercession is evident in some o f the
songs associated with rain ceremonies in the central African area.
H ere, however, the musical and dramatic aspects are more pro
nounced than in Bushman prayers. A s with m any antiphonal
songs, the refrain is assigned to a chorus w hile the verses are
extemporized b y a soloist according to a conventional pattern a
marked contrast to the lengthy and specialist hym ns to W est
A frican deities. T h is can be illustrated from a N dau rain song
from Portuguese East A frica, a song in w hich the antiphonal form
is expressively used to indicate the personal plight o f both singer
and chorus:
Thunder-of-the-East, were dying,
E we iye yo we
And the race will die this season!
E we iye yo we
O ye Highland folk, we perish!
E we iye yo we
0 ye Sea-Side folk, were dying!
E we iye yo we
Ye Mamboni folk, we perish!
E we iye yo we

1 Bleek and Lloyd 1911, p. 415*

i8 a

Poetry
Y e Mashangna folk were dying:
E we iye yo we
Ye Nyalinge folk, we perish I
E w e iye yo we
Thunder-of-the-East, were dying!
E w e iye yo we.1

It is sometimes supposed that one o f the most common form s

of conventional utterance in non-literate society is the spell or
incantation a verse or formula believed to be magically effective
in manipulating people or things. In fact the evidence from A frica
does not seem to suggest that this is often a particularly significant
form o f literature. I t is true that magical incantations o f a kind do
occur perhaps particularly in the areas most influenced b y
Islam and in some societies are distinguished by a special term
from other religious poetry such as hymns or prayers.2 B ut even
in these cases this form does not seem to be developed as a lengthy
and specialized form in its ow n right as it is, for instance, in
Melanesia.3 E ven among a people like the Azande w ho are so
famous for their emphasis, on m agic and on witchcraft, verse in
cantations or spells do not seem to be highly developed: invocation
to the poison oracle, for instance, appears to be in a prose form which,
though marked b y its own conventionally elliptical phraseology, is
apparently not a set word-perfect formula. A nd the songs sung at
Zande w itch-doctors seances, w here w e might expect to find such
incantations, are in fact short and relatively simple (Uke, for instance,
Brush away tears oo eee, w e w ill sit down with her and brush
away tears);4 they deal with a variety o f social events unrelated to
magic, ju st as do songs sung at dances or beer-parties, and they are
performed in the normal antiphonal form with leader and chorus.3
* Curtis 1920, p. 30.
* e.g. Songhai zamu (hymns) are distinguished in terminology, intention, and
form from gyindize (magical formulas) (J. Rouch, La Religion et la magie
tonghay, Paris, i960, p. 83).
* O r in some literate societies. One o f the largest collections o f African
magical* texts is in fact taken from the written tradition of Ethiopia (D. Lifchitz,
Textei ithiopiens magico-religieux, T M IE 38, 1940).
* E E. Evons-Pritchard, Witchcraft, Oracles and Magic among the Azande,
Oxford, 1937, p. 182. T h e songs have more latent meaning than may appear on
the surface.
* Ibid., pp. 180-2. T he use of prose fos prayers and magical spells and the
lack of a rigid word-perfect pattern also occur among the Ibo (Green 1948,
p. 841). Some comments on prose prayers, curses, etc., can be found in Ch. 16.
Divination literature is discussed later in the present chapter.

Religious Poetry

183

A further general point is that even where there is some element

o f what might be termed magic , this does not necessarily lead
to a definite type o f magical incantation. Just as the previously
assumed distinction between magic and religion is now ques
tioned by many students o f African beliefs and practices, so too
it emerges that it is often not feasible to differentiate a clear-cut
category o f magical incantations, spells, and charms as distinct
from religious poetry involving prayer, praise, invocation, or
ritual announcement.
T h e following tw o examples m ay help to illustrate this point.
Both are characterized by the kind o f rhythm ic and expressive
diction, further brought out b y the use o f repetition, that in fact
appears in m any form s o f literature but is often thought to be
particularly typical o f magical utterances.. T h e first is taken
from the Songhai, a people, long in contact with Islam, w ho do
distinguish between religious praises and magical formula. It is a
spell used in hunting magic and yet even here there is mention
o f God and o f his messenger and prophet, N debi:
Je parle avec Ndebi.
Ndebi na qua parler avec Dieu
Les homines davant ont donnd k Salty.
Saley a donne k son petit frkre.
Ndebi, laissc-moi passer par le trou avec mes captifs et mon poison.
Ndebi, ouvre le trou et referme le trou.
Ndebi, ferine le trou aux Zin.
Ndebi, ferine le trou au lion mechant.
Ndebi, ferme le trou k la hykne mdchante.
Ndebi, ferme le trou aux antilopes m&hantes.
Ndebi, ferme le trou aux tres mediants.
Ndebi, ferme le trou aux langues mdchantes.
Ndebi, ferme le trou aux frbres mdchants.1
In the second example, from the Kongo, the ancestors are being
thanked for their help in curing a patient, and are being ritually
shown the animals brought for a feast in their honour; these
animals are to be in good condition and not attacked by hostile
forces:
May the leopard coming from the forest
Have his teeth on edge for these animals.
1 Rouch, op. cit., p. 275. Ndebi also appears in many of the other texts cited
in idem., ch. 7 ('L a magie').

184

Poetry
May the weasel coining from the forest
Be unable to take these fowls.
May the witch who twists his belongings,
Fail to fascinate our goats.
May the thief on the look-out
Sprain his feet in his course.
Let all these animals prosper
And multiply,
Then the feast will be beautiful.

So far, this might seem to accord with the picture o f a typical

magic incantation ; but the speaker continues, addressing the
ancestors in whose honour the whole is uttered:
I have held out my hands to you (in prayer),
And he who holds out his hands dies not.
I have shown you the animals of the feast,
And I have brought you no other presents,
Except palmwine,
That you may favour the procreation of (human) wealth.
And here are the kola nuts I brought for you.1
I am not intending to suggest that references to personal super
natural beings (such as deities or ancestors) always appear in such
utterances, but that they appear frequently enough to make a
general distinction between magical charm s and hymns or
prayers a difficult one to draw. As a result it is not easy to find
many specialized instances of purely m agical verses. It seems
that the popular picture o f all-important and word-perfect magical
formulas, intended to manipulate impersonally through the force
o f the words alone, is one that does not often have a real counter
part in any developed or specialized form in subsaharan Africa.
Another common supposition is that w ith the advent of Chris
tianity and its associated literate traditions, the importance o f
oral religious utterances will necessarily diminish. T h e contrary,
however, would seem to be true. It is precisely in the religious
sphere that there has been a marked development o f oral forms in
lyrics, prayers, and testimonies, each w ith its own conventions
and techniques. T h is goes hand in hand w ith the great prolifera
tion of native Christian churches and other separatist religious
movements that is so well known a feature o f contemporary Africa.
1 J. Van Wing, Bakongo Incantations and Prayers, J R A I 60, 1930, pp.
418-19.

R eligious Poetry

185

Sometimes these utterances are subsequently reduced to writing

or even make an early appearance in written form : b u t even in
these cases their spread and significance among their largely non
literate patrons is often prim arily oral. Instances could be drawn
from M au M au hymns, from the very Zulu modern hym ns o f the
Church o f Nazareth, and from testimonies in various separatist
churches in South Africa, w hich, even when spontaneous, have
their own conventions and appear as rhythmic and liturgical
chants.1 O ne example that has been described is the lyric in the
Fante M ethodist Church in G hana,2 and I w ill discuss this
briefly here.
T h e M ethodist Church in Ghana is W estern in organization,
worship, and ethos. Nevertheless, certain aspects have been
developed which appeal particularly to non-literate members,
above all the Fante lyric w hich appears so often in services. There
are two main types. In one, words and music are m ore or less
fixed, though there may be minor variations by the congregations
who actually sing them. T h e second type falls into the farm o f an
individual recitative accompanied b y a relatively fixed chorus. It
is this second form that gives scope to the highest degree o f im
provisation. Though the lyrics sometimes become stereotyped in
context, a competent singer can improvise. H e m ay wind his
theme, for instance, round some reference that has struck him in
the sermon just delivered or in a prayer or reading. Sometimes he
will even break into the sermon with a lyric which is then taken
up by others present. In a way typical of much oral literature, the
rest o f the congregation also play their part, for they sing the
responses in chorus and are quick to anticipate w hat is required.
N ot all members of a church are themselves competent lyric singers.
1 L . S. B. Leakey, Defeating Mau Mau, London, 1954, chs. 4-5; B. G. M.
Sundkler, Bantu Prophets in South Africa, London, and ed., 1961, p. 192;
Tracey 19486, pp. 48 ff. See also e.g. R. Kauffman, 'Hymns o f the Wabvuwi,
Afr. Music a. 3, i960; B. Kingslake in ibid, 1. 4, 1957, p. 18 (improvised
church chants by Yoruba women); E. G . Parrinder, 'Music in West African
Churches', ibid. 1. 3, 1956; P. Jans, 'Essai de musique religieuse pour
indigenes dans le vicariat apostolique de Coquilhatville', Aequatoria 19, 1956.
These developments tend to be a feature of the separatist sects rather than of
the orthodox mission churches, and also, it is frequently said, arise from the way
in which European hymn-tunes in mission churches violate indigenous tonal
patterns, thus stultifying further developments.
* S. G . Williamson, 'The Lyric in the Fante Methodist Church', Africa 28,
1958; see also A. A. Mensah, 'T h e Akan Church Lyric', Intemat. Rev. of
Missions 49, i960.

186

Poetry

It is common for there to be one or two individuals in the congre

gation, usually from among the older men and women, who are
recognized as song leaders. A good singer must possess two
qualities: an extensive repertoire o f the more familiar lyrics, and
a capacity to improvise successfully within the canons o f accepted
musical and verbal styles. H e thus requires poetic and musical
ability as w ell as considerable verbal skill. Such lyrics are impor
tant devotionally to the non-literate Fante Methodists and play
a significant part in their religious services. Williamson considers
them as sim ple and sincere expressions o f religious belief and
experience and contrasts this w ith the attitude to W estern hymns
which, even in translation, are stilted and un-Fante.1
T h e background to these m odem lyrics lies not in the specialist
hymns to deities but rather in certain lyric forms o f the oral Akan
tradition, particularly those associated with the asafo military
companies, w ith the female nanobome and asrayere songs, and
perhaps w ith the adenktun (calabash) music associated with older
rituals. T h e y also recall the practice in traditional Fante stories
o f the narration (like the sermon) being interrupted b y a song
which acts both as diversion and as commentary. A s w ith the
M ethodist lyrics, such songs appear cither in regular metrical
form or as recitative with response from the audience. T h e lyrical
aspect o f th e church songs comes out particularly in the frequent
use o f apostrophe and affirmation linked with the idea o f a personal
proclamation or recital. M ost o f the lyrics are brief and fairly
stereotyped in content, as in the following example o f one o f the
relatively fixed forms. T h e image o f a shower o f blessing suggested
in the second line o f the Fante text is a traditional one:
Open the windows of heaven,
G ive us thy blessing
Open the windows o f heaven,
Give us thy blessing!

Our Father, Onyame [God]!

Sweet Father of us, the Church membership.
Open the windows of heaven,
Give us thy blessing.1
A lthough such lyrics are short .an d simple and tend to be
despised b y literate church m embers, they nevertheless represent
1 Williamson, op. cit., p. 1x7.

1 Ibid., p. 129.

187

Religious Poetry

a vigorous oral tradition, and one that has parallels elsewhere. It

is one, furthermore, that is now gaining wider currency in a series
of voluntary associations outside the church as well as through the
increasing emphasis on such lyrics in broadcasts by Radio Ghana.
Altogether, this kind o f development is one likely to prove a
fruitful field in the future study o f oral literature.

ill
M antic poetry represents a different type o f religious literature.
It can take several forms. One consists of the utterances of mediums
believed b y themselves and/or others to be possessed by some
spirit. When oracular utterances take the from o f poetry, they
have their own conventions. However, although possibly widespread
in Africa, there have been few detailed studies o f them,1 perhaps
because they tend to be obscurely expressed in oracular language
(sometimes even in a special language o f their own) or in a frag
mentary or repetitive form. On the other hand the poems that
accompany certain divining procedures are o f a more systematized
and specialized type and, accordingly, have been more accessible
to collectors. T h is type o f mantic poetry tends to be highly con
ventional, w ith little emphasis on the individual creativity o f the
performer; a common pattern is for it to b e the preserve o f
specialist diviners w ho have undergone training and/or special
initiation to master the techniques o f divination and its interpreta
tion, as well as to develop the ability to recite the requisite poetry.
And, finally, there are combinations of these two types, when both
possession and more conventional forms o f divination arc involved.2
T w o examples o f the more specialized divination literature w ill
be illustrated here. T h e examples come from opposite ends o f the
continent: the praises associated with divining bones among the
Sotho o f southern Africa, and the highly elaborate Ifa corpus o f
literature from W est Africa.

1 Though see A . V . King, 'A Bhorii Liturgy from Kntsina, Afr. Language
Studies 7, 1966 and Supplement, 1967; G . Balandier, Femmes possddies et
leurs chants, Presence afr. 5, 194S; and work in progress by F. Topan on
spirit (pepo) songs and their role in a spirit mediumship cult in Mombasa,
Kenya.
* I am not proposing to discuss here the specialized invocations sometimes
made to oracles before the results of the query are declared. Further remarks on
prose prayers, etc., are to be found in Ch. 16.

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Poetry

(i) Praises o f divining bones among the Sotho1

In Sotho divination an integral part is played by the ritual
chants or praises (lithoko; direto) associated both with the bones
used in divination and with each o f the special combinations
formed by these bones when thrown by a diviner. M astery o f these
oracular poems depends on long training and initiation, and the
diviner must know a large number o f them before he can practise
his art.
T h e general pattern of divination and its associated literature
seems to be constant throughout the Sotho area, though the actual
poems differ according to the locality. T h e divining apparatus
itself consists o f a set o f bones from various animals including
cattle. A s the diviner begins his session, he handles the bones and
praises them, saying, for instance:
You my white ones, children o f my parents,
Whom I drank from mothers* breasts!
And you many coloured cattle
Whom I knew when still on mothers back,
From whose hoofs these chips were cut;
Hoofs of cattle black and red and yellow.2
Each o f the four principal bones in the set (four to twenty in all)
has special significance as well as its own name and praises.
A fter praising his bones the diviner makes a throw and notices
how the four principal bones have fallen; the first two have four
sides each and can thus fall in any o f four w ays; the second pair are
counted as having only two each. Each o f these many combina
tions has a special praise associated with it w hich the diviner then
recites. T h is consists o f a title, a poem w hich is interpreted as
alluding to the questioners problem, and a direct or indirect sug
gestion as to the remedy that should be employed. After the
recitation, the questioner is led to agree that the verse recited fits
his case.1
T h e enigmatic and allusive nature o f these oracular poems can
be illustrated from the praise entitled T h e swim ming (fall) o f the
sunbird, a poem which illustrates a particular fall o f the four
1 Based on W. M . Eiselen, T he Art of Divination as Practised by the
Bamesemola', Bantu Studies 6,1932; F. Laydevont, 'T h e Praises of the Divining
Bones among the Basotho, ibid. 7,1933; A . W. H oem li in I. Schapcra (ed.), The
Bantu-speaking Tribes of South Africa, London, 1937.
* Eiselen, op. cit., p. n .
> Laydevant, op. cit., p. 344-

189

R eligious Poetry

principal bones. It can be seen how the sym bolic expression is

susceptible o f several interpretations and is not concerned with
direct literal prediction:
'Sunbird, secret and daring.
When you take a bit of straw,
And say you imitate the hammerkop.
T h e hammerkop nobody can imitate.
It is the bird of those who take a new garment in the deep waters.
It is taking bits o f straw one by one.*
It is building above the pools.
T h e little sunbird should not fall.
It falls and makes pkususu in the pools.
It is the patient one sitting at the d rift
The sins are passing and you see them.
The reed of the river is mocking at the reed pf the plain.
It says: When the grass is burning.
T h e reed of the plain is laughing at the reed o f the river,
It says: When the rivers get full.1
O ne interpretation o f the verse is that people are trying to kill the
questioner b y lightning because o f his wealth and good luck; they
accuse him o f imitating a ch ief and say he must fall. T o protect
him self he is told to get a feather o f a hammerkop, sunbird, or one
o f the yellow sparrows living in the reeds, a feather o f the light
ning, w hich will guard him . Further allusions are suggested to
a Sotho listener, not all o f them directly connected with the
diviners interpretation: the hammerkop is not only commonly
associated with lightning, but is also an accepted sym bol o f power,
w hile the reeds sym bolize th e common people quarrelling to
gether because o f jealousy; the image o f the sunbirds falling into
the water is an allusion to the circumcision rites o f Sotho girls.2
Jealousy and discord are very common themes. In the fall
named T h e Fame o f the L am p the diviner alludes, through the
image o f an elephant, to a ch ief w ho is spreading enm ity between
his sons while even the nation takes part in the quarrel. It is sug
gested that the people must be treated with medicine from the
horn:
O female elephant,
0 elephant, I have become blind,
0 elephant, I have entered secretly.
* Ibid., pp. 349-50.
8161814

*' Ibid., p. 351.

O

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Poetry
T h e path o f the' enemy was red;
There was blood, there was disorder.
Shake the ear, you running elephant.
That the others should grow and remember your name.*

T h e next verse briefly and effectively pictures the hatred between

a mans co-wives. O ne o f them feels she is persecuted on account
o f the others, and she is given m edicine to help her b y the diviner:
Child o f the tortoise, I am burning,
I suffered in my heart,
On account of my smallness o f bring a tortoise.*
Again, T h e Fam ous Masibo (a plant) o f the Swim m ing :
Swim on the deep waters, lie upon them.
They have no hippo and no little things.
They have no beast o f prey biting whilst it moves,
And coiling itself in a comer.
Only the litde hippos are swimming.
The big ones do not swim any more.
They rip open and throw out their backs.
W hy are the crocodiles quarrelling in the water?
They are quarrelling on account of an old crocodile,
O f many talks jn the water.
Which says: I do not bite, I only play;
I shall bite the year after next.
When the mimosa and the willow tree are growing.1
T h e crocodile and hippopotamus sym bolize the important people
w ho are spreading misunderstanding between their children. T h e
rem edy prescribed is to use certain plants, among them the willow
tree and the mint.
O ther topics introduced are: problems about going on a journey;
hunting; illness; signs o f good or bad luck. But the obscure and
sym bolic character o f the poems is noticeable in every context, and
there is a tendency for both poem s and interpretations to be con
cerned less w ith definite predictions than with comm enting allu
sively on some facet o f personal relationships. T h u s illness is
usually dealt w ith not b y predicting a cure or its opposite, but by
suggesting the possible enmities qnd witchcraft that m ay have
given rise to it, alluding to this in poetic and figurative terms.
1 Laydevant, op. d t., pp. 369-70.

1 Ibid., p. 371.

Ibid., p. 361.

Religious Poetry

191

T h e poems themselves play a central part in the whole divination

process, for it is through the imagery o f the poetry that the sufferer
can recognize his own case. In spite o f the conventional nature
o f the poems there is w ide scope for personal interpretations of
them in a particular case, a possibility closely connected with
their obscure and allusive nature. T h e flexible application o f this
oracular literature is added to by the fact that though the poems
as a whole seem to b e orally transmitted and memorized (with but
slight variations) b y the diviners, each diviner is also free, i f he is
able, to compose new praises for the various falls, and is only too
glad to show his artistic ability in that kind o f poetry. 1 M antic
poetry among the Sotho is developed for its own sake as an artistic
form o f poetic expression governed b y its own conventions as well
as for the light it throws on people's ills and hatreds.
(ii) Odu I f a*
T h e final example o f religious poetry is the oracular literature
associated w ith divination among the Yoruba o f Southern Nigeria.
Although this includes prose as well as poetry, it is worth consider
ing here both for its intrinsic interest and for the way it illustrates
the complexity there can be in African religious literature.
Before discussing Ifa literature, it is necessary to describe some
thing o f the mechanism and beliefs of the Yoruba divination
system.3 Ifa, the Y oruba oracle, is one among the pantheon o f
Yoruba gods, and as such appears in many (and sometimes contra
dictory) stories and myths, often under his alternative title o f
Orunmila. In one m yth, for instance, the gods are depicted as
hungy because th ey received few sacrifices. T h e trickster god,
Eshu, then showed Ifa the system o f divination so that as a result
men could be helped through the diviners skill, while, at the same
1 Ibid., p. 341.
1 The main sources used are G . Parrinder, West African Religion, London,
1961, ch. 13; R. C . Abraham, Dictionary of Modem Yoruba, London, 1958
(under Ifd); Bascom 1941, 1943; Abimbola 1964, 1965; Gbadamosi and Beier
1959, pp. 35 ff.; R. Prince, Ifa, Ibadan, >964; and Morton-Williams et al. 1966.
Full bibliographies can be found in Maupoil 1961 (who discusses in detail the
very similar Fa divination system in Dahomey) and Bascom 1961.
> Similar or identical systems are found among the Fon of Dahomey and
Ewe of Togo as well as some other Nigerian peoples. Its elaborateness has led
some to speculate about possible external origins, but it is now generally agreed
that Ifa has a long history in West Africa and that, for recent centuries at any
rate, the centre of distribution has been Yoruba country in Southern Nigeria.

tgz

Poetry

time, the gods would benefit through the sacrifices and thankofferings that human beings w ould be commanded to make by
their diviners. Ifa has a special position among the gods. H e is
both the deity who acts as the interm ediary between men and gods,
and also in a sense is the impersonal principle o f divination by
which mankind has access to w hat is otherwise hidden from them.
Ifa thus, as god and as oracle, plays a central part in Yoruba
religious and everyday life:
Ifa is the master o f today;
Ifa is the master o f tomorrow;
Ifa is the master o f the day after tomorrow;
T o Ifa belongs all the four days
Created by Oria into this world.1
T h e Ifa divination system is a highly elaborate one. It rests on
a series o f mathematical permutations, the principle o f w hich must
be grasped in order to understand the w ay in which certain pieces
o f literature are associated w ith each o f these. T h e permutations
o f figures (odu) are based on two columns o f four units each, and
the different combinations w hich these eight units m ay form
between them. T h e total number o f figures is 256, each w ith its
own name and associated literature. It is only after obtaining one
o f the figures to form the basis o f his utterance that the diviner can
proceed to the divination itself.
There are two main ways o f obtaining the figures. T h e first,
less elaborate mechanism consists o f a chain or cord o f eight half
seeds (often split mango stones), divided into two portions o f
four half-seeds each. W hen this is thrown down b y the diviner,
the resultant figure makes two columns of four units each, the
exact combination depending on whether the seeds have fallen
convex- or concave-side-up. T h e other way o f obtaining a figure,
a longer method used in important consultations, is w ith a set o f
sixteen palm-nuts and a small board. T h e diviner throws or
passes the nuts rapidly from one hand to the other. I f either one
or two nuts are left in the right hand, the throw is valid and he
makes a corresponding mark on his board: a double mark for one
nut, a single for two. T h e process is repeated eight times and eight
marks are thus made in the dust on the tray; these start from the
bottom right-hand side and are laid out in the form o f two parallel
1 Abimbola 1965, p. 4.

R eligious P oetry

193

columns of four sets o f marks each. T h is gives the same result as

the eight-seed chain, the double mark corresponding to a seed
convex-side-up, a single mark to the concave.
Table showing the Names and Structure o f the Coltm ns which form
the Basis o f Ifa Figures (odu)
(from Parrinder, op. cit., p. 141; Abraham, op. cit., p. 276)
1. ogbe

S.

I
I
I
I

2. oyeku

II
II
II
II

3. iumri

irosurt

6. puiara

7. pbara

I
II
II
9. ogunda

I
I
II
13. otuwa

I
II
I
I

4. odt

II
I
I

I
II
II
I

ir

II
II
I
I

I
II
II
II

8. pkpnrpn
.

II
II
II
I

10. osa

i t . iha

12. oluropon

14. iretf

15. ote

16. ofun

II
I
I
I

II
I
II
II

I
I
II
I

I
II
I
II

II
II
I
II

II
I
II
I

Note. The order of the odu figures also has some significance in the full divina
tion process. That given here is the order most commonly found, but there are
regional variations (see Bascom 1961).

It is the figure thus produced that determines the diviners

utterances to his client. A s can be seen from the table, each column
o f four can fall in any of sixteen permutations. W hen the tw o
columns are considered together, as they are b y Ifa diviners, the
total number o f different figures that can be produced is 1 6 x 1 6 =
256. O f this number, 16 are the leading figures or odu proper:
these are the combinations of two identical columns. Th u s the
double figure based on the column called pyeku and known as
gyfku meji appears as
,
II
II
II
II

II
II
II
II

Poetry

194

while the double figure iwori meji, based on the iwori column, is

'

II

II

I
I

1
I

II

II

T h e remaining 240 figures, those in which the two columns differ,

are considered secondary, and, though often referred to by the
same term as for the principal figures (odu), arc strictly gmg odu,
children of odu . A n example of one of these secondary odu would
be that name iwori obara, a combination o f the gbara and izoori
columns (the right-hand one being named first in the Yoruba
title):

I
II
II
II

II
I
I
II

Once the diviner has thrown his figure, the divination proper
can begin. Each figure has several pieces o f literature (ese) speci
fically connected with it, and it is in the w ords associated with the
figure thrown that the answer to the clients query must be found.
Th ere is no definite number of pieces for each odu, but a diviner
would not normally begin to practise unless he knew at least four
for each (thus involving -mastery of at least one thousand in all);
good diviners are said to know about eight o f the pieces for each
o f the 256 figures and m any more for the important figures.1 It is
commonly believed that, the number o f pieces for each figure is
ideally sixteen, in keeping with the mathematical symmetry o f the
system as a whole. B ut there seems to be no such fixed corre
spondence in actual practice, and the num ber and to some extent
the content o f the verses vary with individual capacity and with the
locality.
T h e practical point o f these pieces is to guide the inquirer by
suggesting a sacrifice or type o f worship, b y indicating his likely
fortune, and b y referring to a precedent from w hich he can judge
his own case. Since m ore than one piece can be quoted for what
ever figure is thrown, these are recited at random one after the
other, and it is for the client, not. the diviner, to select w hich applies
to his particular case. T h e consultation thus proceeds through
1 Bascom 1941. PP< 43, 50.

Religious Poetry

195

poetic allusion and analogy rather 'than through straight answers

to specific questions and it is this quality which leads to its de
velopment as a corpus o f literature and gives depth and meaning
to the bare injunctions w ith w hich the divination m ay open.
T h e pieces associated w ith each figure fall into a general
pattern. Each usually opens w ith a mention o f the sacrifices and
other actions the client must carry out to have success. T h is first
part is relatively prosaic; it m ay run, for instance:
This person is intending to marry a new wife. He is warned to make
sacrifice to $un so that the wife may be prosperous. He is warned
never to flog the wife if he wants peace in his home. He should make
sacrifice with fifteen cowries and a big hen. Ifa says that if he observes
all these warnings, success will be his.1

T h is is followed b y the main part o f the piece, expressed in poetic

language and sometimes chanted all through. T h is part is con
cerned with setting out a precedent in terms o f a previous divina
tion. First often comes the name o f the priest of Ifa who is said to
have made the prophecy in the precedent cited, and the name o f
the dient(s) for whom he was divining these m ay be people,
deities, animals, plants, inanimate objects. T h u s the client may be
told that on the previous occasion
The-big-and-terrible-Rainbow*
Cast Ifa for the Iroko tree
O f the town of Igbo.3
Another diviner is referred to as Oropa N iga; to fight and stir up
dust like Buffalo; parched dust on the top of a rock*4 or as T-haveno-time-to-waste.1 I t will be seen that this section often involves
elaborate and poetic names w hich may have sym bolic meaning.
Second in this main part o f the piece there usually comes a poem
(sometimes elaborated in a prose story) which describes the occa
sion o f the previous divination. A s will emerge from the examples
given below, the subject-matter o f this part is most varied. T h ere
are variations in length: sometimes there is only a fragmentary
allusion (perhaps not m uch m ore than a poetic proverb), while at
others there is a long and dramatic narration. Finally, the client
is told the result o f the previous divination described and thus,
* Abimbola 1965, p. 15.
> Abimbola 1965, p. 16.

1 Praise name o f the diviner.

4 Bascom 1943, p. 128.

196

Poetry

indirectly, what he can expect himself. Very often the conclusion

pointedly shows that on the previous occasion the one w ho per
formed the due sacrifices prospered, while the negligent met disaster.
Sometimes the whole recitation is then closed by a chorus w hich is
chanted in unison by the diviner, his pupils, and the client.
W ithin this general pattern there is plenty of scope for variation
in the actual pieces recited. T h e y differ greatly in length. Abim bola
reports several that can be recited for more than h alf an hour,
while others take only one or two minutes.1 T h e plots and the
people involved in them are also o f many different kinds. T h ey
include just about all the topics that can be met in narrative
stories throughout the continent. This great variety is hardly
surprising when one considers that even a mediocre diviner must
know at least a thousand o f these precedents with their accom
panying verses and stories. T h e y can be about animals, gods,
legendary humans, natural phenomena like rivers or hills, plants,
and even inanimate things like metals or shells, and they may take
the form o f a simple story about a man going on a journey, an
account o f the founding o f a town, a philosophical discussion of
the merits and demerits o f monogam y there i s . . . no lim it to the
subject-matter which ese Ifa m ay deal with.2 T h e outcom e often
takes an aetiological form w ith the present nature o f some plant or
animal traced to its imaginary actions in the story in particular
its obedience or disobedience to the injunctions laid on it by the
oracle; its characteristics in the world today thus provide a kind
o f imaginative validation o f the truth o f the story.
T h e sort o f plots involved can be seen from a few brief synopses:3
1. It is because Maizebeer, Bamboo-wine, and Palm-wine refused
to sacrifice that a person who has been intoxicated recovers from his
stupefied condition after sleeping.
2. Lizard was told to make a sacrifice, part of which was to enable
him to marry, and part of which was to ensure that his wife would con
tinue to love him. Lizard sacrificed only the first part, and after he had
married, his wife left him. It is because he is looking for his wife in the
tree-tops that he raises himself on his forelegs and peers from side to
side.
3. When Brass, Lead, and Iron were told to sacrifice, Iron said that
the diviners were just lying, that events had been predestined by
1 Abimbola 1965, p. 13.
2 Ibid., p. 14.
2 Quoted from the convenient summaries in Boscom 1941, pp. 46, 48, 45.

Religious Poetry

197

Olprun [God], and that their course could not be altered by sacrificing.
Only Brass and Lead sacrificed, and because o f this they can be buried
for many years without rotting, while Iron rusts away in a short time.
4. When the 165 kinds of trees in the forest were told to sacrifice,
only three did as they were told. The others replied that they did not
have enough money. When Eshu [a god] reported this to the gods, a
storm was sent to the forest. It pulled up the larger trees by the roots,
or broke them down; but the atari bush and the arircm and esutt grasses,
who had sacrificed, simply bent down while the storm passed over them.
5. Qrunmila [another name for the god Ifa] was told to include a
knife as a part of a sacrifice, lest he be taken as a thief on a journey he
was considering. He postponed the sacrifice, and when he stole some
kola-nuts on the way, he escaped capture only after having been cut on
the palm of his hand. The owner of the nuts asked the king to gather
everyone together so that he might identify the thief by this cuit.
Frightened, Qrunmila went to the diviners, who doubled the sacrifice.
While everyone slept Eshu took one of the knives and cut the palms of
everyone, including the unborn children. (It is because of this that people
have lines on their palms.) When the owner o f the nuts demanded that
Qrunmila open his hand,' Qrunmila showed that everyone, including the
king himself, had the same scars; and because he had been falsely
accused, he was given a great deal of wealth.
6. Stout Foreigner was told to sacrifice so as to find good fortune;
he sacrificed, and everything to which he turned his hand became good.
T h e actual poems and prose narratives w hich give full expres
sion to these plots are o f course m uch m ore lengthy and elaborate
than the bald summaries just quoted. T h e last one, for instance,
seems to be the piece quoted in full in another source, and is
associated with the fourth o f the sixteen principal odus. T h e
allusive verse is, as often, explained and expanded in the straight
forward prose narrative wheih follows it.
Ifa sees the prospect of greatness for this person in a strange land.
He should make sacrifice with four pigeons, a good garment of his, and
a shoe.
I arrived in good time,
I travelled in good time,
I am the only man who travels in time o f fortune
When valuable objects of wealth are being deposited I entered un
announced like the heir to the wealth
I am not the heir to the wealth, I am only good at travelling in time
of fortune.

198

Poetry

(These people) divined for the fat stranger*

Who would enter unannounced
On the day the property of the dead king of Benin was being shared.1
The fat stranger was going to Benin in search of a suitable place to
practise his Ifa. He was told that he would prosper in Benin but he was
warned to make sacrifice. After making the sacrifice he made for Benin.
He entered Benin just as the King o f that city died. He thought that it
would not speak well o f him a renowned diviner (babaldwo) if he
did not say his condolences to the people o f Benin. But he did not know
that whenever the properties o f a dead king were being shared out in
Benin a good portion usually goes to'the fortunate stranger who entered
just in time. On arriving at the place where the properties were being
shared, the fiat stranger was given a good portion of the property.
After gathering the materials given him, he made for his native land.
He started to sing in praise of his diviners (who divined for him before
he went to Benin) while in turn his diviners praised Ifa. He made a
party for his neighbours. There the drdn1 was beaten, and it gave its
pleasant melodies. Unconsciously, as he stretched his legs, he started
to dance. On opening his mouth the song o f the diviners was already
on his lips.
He said it happened, just as his Ifa priests said it would.
I arrive in good time,
I travelled in good time,
I am the only man who travels in time of fortune
When valuable objects of wealth are being deposited I entered un
announced like the heir to the wealth
I am not the heir to the wealth, I am only good at travelling in time
of fortune.
(These people) divined for the fat stranger
Who would enter unannounced
On the day the property of the dead king of Benin was being shared.
Who will help us reconstruct this city?
Only the fat stranger will help us reconstruct this dty.
Additional examples can give a further idea o f the poetic quality
and variety o f m uch o f this Ifa literature. I t will be remembered
that each is only one o f several pieces belonging to a particular
throw and that the allusive poems are often accompanied b y
explanatory prose narrative. T o a Yoruba listener their obscurity
1 Gdddgbd-.fat or bold, and at the same time tall and stately.
* Benin has the reputation o f great Wealth among the Yoruba 'Benin the
place of money'.
* Drum connected with Ifa.
Abimbola 1964, pp. 7-8.

Religious Poetry

199

is also lessened by the fact that they conventionally deal with

comm on and recognizable them es; the consequences o f sacrifice
(often to be seen in the present characteristics o f things); praise of
a particular Ifa figure or a particular god (often suggesting that he
should be worshipped); and indication of the client's present for
tune or misfortune.
In the first, the questioner is allusively told to worship Obatala:
The sky is immense, but grows no grass.
That is what the oracle said to Obatala,
T o whom the great God gave the reins of the world.
God of the Igbo, I stretch out my hands.
Give the reins of the world to me.1
T h e next extract from a long Ifa poem is about Ifa under his title
o f Ela, and is remarkable fo r its effective use o f tones. W hen
ever there is a pause the phrase ends with a low tone, and the whole
poem concludes with the w ord Ela, which fittingly comes in on
a low monotone, giving the w hole extract a sense o f gravity :*
He made the Odundun K ing of leaves,
And the Tete its deputy;
He made the Sea King o f waters,
And the lagoon its deputy;
Still Ela was accused of the mismanagement of the world,
Whereupon, Ela grew angry,
And climbed to heaven with a rope.
Come back to receive our homage,
O, ElaP
In the next two examples the listener can, if he decides they
apply to him, draw inferences about his future fortune. T h e first,
i f told to a woman, suggests she m ay bear a child; the second, in
narrative form, alludes to death:
I am blessing two, not one.
This was prophesied to the sea lily
Which reaches down into the mud, the origin o f creation.
The time of creation has come.1
This is the oracle of a hunter
Who went hunting in the forest of Onikorogbo.
They asked him to sacrifice,
So that he might not meet his death.
1 Gbadamosi and Beier 1959, p. 26.
Ibid., pp. 46-7.

* Layebikan 1956, p. 46.

200

Poetry
They asked him to sacrifice eggs,
All the eggs in his house.
But he-refused to sacrifice.
He came into the forest,
But found no animals to shoot.
After he had wandered about for a long time
He met Death.
For a while they were hunting together.
A t last they found two eggs.
Death said to the hunter:
You may take them home.
The hunter proposed to divide them,
But Death refused.
The hunter went home lonely.
Soon after that famine came.
The hunter cooked the eggs
And ate them with his children.
Then Death arrived and said:
I have come for my share.
There is famine in heaven.
And we have nothing to eat.
The hunter said: Alas,
We have already eaten the eggs.
Then Death killed the hunter and his children.1

Particular divination figures are also mentioned in the Ifa

poems. One praises the figure eji ogbe which is the first and senior
figure in all systems of Ifa divination:
The might of all rivers in the world is not to be compared with that
of the sea; the dignity of rivers which rise on a hill is not as that
o f the lagoon.
There is no Ifa that can be compared with Eji-ogbe;
To command is the privilege of a commander;
Eji-ogbe, you are the king of them all.
I asked for honours from the Lagoon, for he is greater than the River.
I received them, but I was not satisfied. I asked them at the
hands o f Qlokun Jeniade, the God of the sea and father o f all
rivers, but still I was not satisfied.
Who does not know that only the gifts of Otorun, the God of Heaven,
are sufficient till the day o f ones death?*
1 Gbadamosi and Beier 1959, p. 28.
* J. D. Clarke, Ifa Divination, J R A I 69, 1939, p. 248.

R eligious P oetry

201

T h e poem about the figure iuiori wottira also alludes to good for
tune:
Iwon Wotura
Anybody who meets beauty and does not look at it will soon be poor.
The red feathers are the pride of the parrot.
The young leaves arc the pride of the palm tree. Iwori Wotura.
The white flowers are the pride of the leaves.
The well swept verandah is the pride of the landlord. Iwori Wotura.
The straight tree is the pride of the forest.
The fast deer is the pride of the bush. Iwori Wotura.
The rainbow is the pride of heaven.
The beautiful woman is the pride of her husband. Iwori Wotura.
The children are the pride of the mother.
The moon and the stars are the pride of the sun. Iwori Wotura.
Ifa says: beauty and all sorts of good fortunes arrive.1
T h e final example expresses once more the constant theme that
one must sacrifice to obtain success:
The lord of the Forest and the lord of the Savannah,
Wanted to seduce Beloved, the wife of Fire.
They were asked to sacrifice broomsticks, a hen and Ifa leaves.
But the lord of the Savannah refused. He said:
And why should I, chief of the Savannah bring sacrifice
Merely because I seduced a woman ?
Have I not an army o f poisonous yams and thorny shrubs
All ready to protect me? But the lord of the Forest sacrificed.
The day came when Beloved, Fires wife, had gone to the house of
Savannah
The Fire ran burning to the lord of the Savannah and cried:
Beloved, Beloved, Beloved.
And he burned the poisonous yams and the thorny shrubs, and all the
Savannah was burned.
But when Fire returned to the forest, they sprinkled Ifa leaves on it
and it died.2
Those who memorize and recite such poems are members o f a
highly trained and respected profession. T h e Ifa diviners (babalawo, lit. father o f mysteries) spend several years learning the
literature for their profession. T h e m inimum seems to be three
years: the first is often spent learning the names and structure o f
the odu, the second and third learning some o f the literature o f
1 Gbadamosi and Brier 1959, p. 30.

* Ibid., p. 27.

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Poetry

each as well as the actual practice o f divination and its rituals.1

B ut sometimes seven or ten years are spent in apprenticeship to
a qualified diviner, and the general opinion is, not surprisingly,
that an Ifa diviner continues to learn as long as he lives. In some
areas at least it is alsb a strictly organized profession with a head
diviner (olori-awo) in each quarter o f a tow n or village and several
grades o f diviners under him.2 It is clear also that both they and
others regard their skill seriously. T h ou gh it is presumably pos
sible in principle for dishonest individuals to exploit the system ,
there seems to be no question o f the system as a whole being a
piece o f calculated trickery. A s will be dear even from the few
examples cited (see p. 196, no. 3), however, the Yoruba themselves
admit the existence o f individual scepticism on the subject.
Nevertheless, the general belief is not only that the diviners them
selves are genuine but that what they say represents the accumulated
wisdom o f generations, a belief strengthened b y the fact that diviners
themselves approach their own problems through Ifa consultation.
T h a t Ifa divination and its literature should be regarded as
seriously as this is not surprising when one considers the nature o f
the consultation. O n ly one point need be repeated in this con
nection.3 F or each figure that is thrown the diviner does not repeat
ju st one poem (and associated story), but at least four or so, either
in outline or in full. N o t only are these m ostly expressed in allusive
and poetic language, but the diviner him self does not know in
advance the specific problem the questioner has in mind, and it is
left to the client to make his choice among the several verses
recited; there is always likely to be at least one which will appear
relevant to him , particularly in view o f the fact that what is de
scribed is not an exact prediction for the future but a poetically
described precedent. T h e diviners role is to recite and explain,
the supplicants role is to discern the precise canto in which Ifa is
speaking to him , and Ifa may speak in veiled ways.4 In view o f
this literary and thus in a sense unfalsifiable nature o f Ifa, the
respect given to diviners and the continued popularity o f Ifa
divining among Christians and M uslim s as well as pagans is not
any cause fo r surprise.
1 Parrinder, op. cit., p. 14s.
* Clarke, op. d t., p. 250; Abraham, op. cit., p. 277.
* For further factors involved in the .continuing faith in the validity o f Ifa
divination procedures see Bascom 1941.
4 Prince, op. cit., p. 9.

Religious Poetry

203

Ifa, then, covers a whole corpus o f literature consisting not only

o f straightforward injunctions to sacrifice, o f meaningful and
elaborate names and (sometimes) prose stories, but also o f a body
o f allusive and complex poetry. T h is literature cannot be said to
form a definitive and fixed canon. N o t only does the number of
pieces associated with each figure differ from diviner to diviner,
but there are also regional differences in the pieces themselves1
as w ell as in the formal order o f the figures. Each piece is separate
and complete in itself, and m ay contradict other comparable
pieces. T h e literature itself is fluid in the sense that there may be
changes in the pieces, with new material merged and added by
individual diviners which is then accepted as authoritative by their
followers. B ut in spite o f this lack o f fixity and comprehensiveness,
it remains true that the Ifa utterances form part o f a conventional
and vast scheme, hugely conceived, one that is known and recited
b y serious and highly qualified specialists but w hich has not yet
been systematically collected in written form in anything approach
ing th e scale o f its conception.2

IV

O ne o f the main points to emerge from this brief account of

A frican religious poetry is its variety. Just as the theory and
practice o f religions' vary in different parts o f Africa, so too does
religious poetry. Similarly, even, in one society there m ay not
only be religious variations w ith corresponding effects on litera
ture, but different poetic genres, many o f them connected with
religion, are likely to be recognized. Furthermore simplistic as
sum ptions which attribute cultural unity of various kinds to
A frican religion or to religious expression turn out to be highly
questionable. T h u s the picture o f African religious expression
< Bascom 1943, p. 130.

1 The largest published collection is in Maupoli 1961 (of the more or less
identical Fa aystem of Dahomey), but even he does not attempt to cover all the
256 odu. Abimbola has collected much of the literature pertaining to the sixteen
principal odu, but writes that it will probably take thirty or forty years to record
the pieces associated with the remaining odu which are less well known 'for if
it takes about two sessions to work on 16 Odus, it will take 3a years to work on
the remaining 356!* Abimbola 1964, p. 12. A number of recordings have also
been made more recently by the Institute of African Studies, University of
Ibadan, but not yet fully transcribed.

I
204

&

Tj

Poetry

dominated by magical spells and incantations can be seen to have

little evidence to support it. Certain other generalizations also
seem uncertain. It is asserted; fo r instance, in one recent collection
o f religious texts that when authors o f these pieces do exist they are
always anonymous, and that such texts possess no literary character
for their users who are interested only in their religious functions.1
Th ere are in fact far too m any variations to sum up the matter so
simply. Sometimes there are official priests and religious spe
cialists, people who tend to b e authoritative and conservative and
lay great stress on the idea o f preserving the ancient text. In other
cases there is little interest in authority and more scope for im
provisation and originality. M oreover, the literary appreciation
o f religious pieces varies w ith culture, context, genre, and even
individual there is certainly no a priori reason to suppose that
it cannot coexist with religious sentiments or situations.
Another misleading generalization is the idea o f the intense
religiousness* supposed to characterize the peoples o f A frica and
their religious texts.2 On the basis o f their oral literature this seems
doubtful. In any one culture religious poetry is not necessarily the
most developed or valued one need only mention the instance
o f the Southern Bantu am ong whom panegyric o f human beings
(not gods) is the most specialized and prized. Ifa divination litera
ture m ight perhaps be cited as a counter-example, being the most
largely conceived scheme o f Y orub a literature. But, quite apart
from the question of whether this means it is necessarily the most
complex or valued type, one could hardly say, in view o f m uch of
its content and context, that it really offered definite proof that the
Yoruba were therefore a h igh ly religious people in any obvious
sense. In any case the religious significance o f a poetic product can
only be assessed with a detailed knowledge o f its social and literary
background, for only then can one grasp its meaning (or meanings)
for composer, reciter, and listeners.
It is true that a few general remarks can be made about African
religious poetry: the prevalence o f the hymn in various form s; the
relative lack o f significance (apart from Islamic verse) o f didactic
and narrative religious poetry; and the spread o f recent forms
influenced b y Christianity. B u t apart from such obvious generaliza
tions few general points can be established. Indeed perhaps they
are not worth searching for at this stage. W hat is now needed is
1 Dieterlen 1965, pp. 17-18.

1 Ibid., p. 20.

Religious Poetry

205

much more detailed collection and analysis o f religious poetry

(including recent Christian-inspired forms). T h e whole subject
deserves far more study than ft has as yet received. In particular it
needs to be analysed in terms o f literature (and not just social
function) and presented not as isolated snippets but in relation to
its proponents, listeners, and social context.

sum *

SPECIAL PURPOSE POETRYWAR,

HUNTING, AND WORK
Military poetry: Nguni; Akan. Hunting poetry: Yoruba
ija la ; Ambo hunters' songs. Work songs
S

ome subjects are o f particular significance in African poetry.

Besides the subjects already elaborated there are others that could
be discussed. T h ere is poetry associated, for example, with secret
societies,1 various types of associations,12 initiation,3 begging,4
masquerades,5 and there are also the very common songs to do
w ith cattle and cattle herding.6 But war and hunting are topics o f
particular interest for many African societies, and have frequently
given rise to specialized poetry; while songs to accompany work
are so common throughout Africa as to demand treatment by their
sheer quantity.
In treating these genres we are faced with one difficulty. Some
o f them, at first sight at least, seem so closely tied to the actual
occasions on w hich th ey are performed whether war, hunting,
1 e.g. songs of various Limba societies.
* e.g. the songs of the various associations in Dahomey which extol their own
worth and the aid they give to members (M. J. Herskovits, Dahomey, an Ancient
West African Kingdom, New York, 1938, vol. ii, p. 321).
1 e.g. H. E. Lambert, Some Initiation Songs of the Southern Kenya Coast1,
Swahili 35, 1965; Driberg 1932, pp. 14-15. 29-30 (Didinga and Lango);
M . Schulien, II Muambo degli Acciuabo. Testi e note sul vero significato
della iniziazioni della gioventu', Annali Istituto Universitario Orientate di Napoli,
N. S. 3,1949; Mayssal 1965, pp. 59 B. (Cameroons Fulani); K . Alnaes, Nyamayingi's Song: an Analysis o f a Konzo Circumcision Song', Africa 37, 1967;
Dieterlen 1965, pan ti; E. J. Krige, 'Girls' Puberty Songs and their Relation to
Fertility, Health, Morality and Religion among the Zulu', Africa 38, 1968;
Von Sicard, Lemba Initiation Chants', Ethnos 2/4, 1943 (A A 18.645).
e.g. Fletcher 1912, pp. 62-3 (Hausa).
> e.g. Gbadamosi and Beier 1959, pp. 38-49 (Yoruba); B. Gbadamosi and
U . Beier, The Poetry o f Masquerades', Odis 7, 1959 (Yoruba); Egudu 1967
p. 9 (Ibo).
4 e.g. Ba 1950, pp. 175-9 (Fulani); Kagame 1947 (Rwanda); T . O. Beidelman, 'Some Baraguyu Cattle Songs', J . Afr. languages 4, 1965: see also Ch. 9,
p. 251.

H.

Specia l Purpose Poetry W ar, Hunting, and W ork

207

or w ork that they seem to approach a fixed formulaic utterance

w ith little room for variation, and change and innovation are thus
at a minimum. H ow far then can they be treated in the same way
as other, more innovatory, genres o f oral literature? W e are re
m inded here o f the difficulty o f making a clear-cut distinction
between literature and non-literature in oral cultures.1 One needs
to remember, however, that this distinction is clearly only a matter
o f degree; some o f the examples mentioned here are evidently as
m uch literature as examples in earlier chapters. Even if we make
a rough division between innovatory and non-innovatory genres,
w ith hunting and work songs in the second category, lyric or
topical songs as pre-eminently in the first, we still find that even
w ithin these categories there can be distinctions on these same
lines. A m ong hunting poems, for instance, Y orub a ijala poetry
clearly provides much scope fo r variation and composition, whereas
A m b o songs, it seems, do not. T h e . same m ight b e said o f work
songs, depending on the amount o f variation by the leading soloist.2
A second point is that our attitude to such examples must depend
not least on the local evaluation o f these pieces. T o o often this is
something we are not told about, so that in the meantime all w e
can do is to present the pieces and hope that m ore research w ill
elucidate their background. Finally, some o f these poems are not
nearly so closely tied to their occasions as they m ight seem a t first
sight: detachment and insight, so crucial for literary expression,
are also involved.
A ll in all there is no real solution to the problem except to
point to it and to suggest further' research. W hat w e particularly
need to know about are both local attitudes to these form s
and the amount o f innovation and variation that actually take
place.
1
Poetry about both hunting and war seems to involve the same
ideas o f romance and glory. Sometimes the same genre o f poetry
is even used to deal with both, like the Galla gheraera or boasts,
universal among warriors and hunters,3 or the Adangm e tegble
poetry used both for war and to honour a man w ho had killed a
< Ch. i , pp. 22 ff.
1 Chadwicks iii, 1940, p. 548.

* On this point see Ch. 9, pp. 259 ff.

i
208
1

Poetry

leopard with a spear.1 B ut even where there is no such direct

association, the two subjects seem to be related. B oth involve
action which is out o f the run o f ordinary every-day pursuits; in
both there is danger, trium ph, or heroism ; and boasting, challenge,
and specialized ability (sometimes supplemented b y magic) are
frequent elements in both.
T h e sorts of occasions on w hich war songs were sung are not
very thoroughly documented I suppose one o f the conditions for
the collection and study o f such songs was in fact the ending of
wide-spread warring but it is clear that they w ere b y no means
confined to the field o f battle: T h e excitement and emotion asso
ciated w ith military exploits are often expressed in poetry before
hand. In this way both poet and audience can be stirred up to
declare war or to prepare for battle. So we have:
Solo.

King be-not-persuaded-by-other-people-not-to-fight-yourenemies ho! ho!

Chorus. So long as the regiment agree, ho! ho!*

Delafosse, when an administrator in W est A frica, was similarly

addressed by an Agni chief and his warriors who came to offer him
their help against a rebel, urging on him and on themselves the
attractions and urgency o f w ar:
Donne-moi de la poudre et des fusils: je partirai domain.
Je veux leur couper la tete: je partirai demain.
Us ont des femmes qui sont jolies: je partirai demain.
On dit quils ont de lor: je partirai demain.
Aujourdhui il faut que je fasse des balles: je partirai demain.
Aujourdhui il faut que j offre un sacrifice: je partirai demain.
Je veux leur couper la tte: je partirai demain.
Donne-moi de la poudre et des fusils: je partirai demain.3
Such war songs in fact are sometimes more an expression and
reinforcement o f the m ilitant strength o f a group than a direct
incitement to the fight or a part o f the battle itself. Several o f the
military poems recorded for th e warlike N ilotic peoples seem to
be o f this kind. T h ey involve glorification, the expression o f high
morale, and, very often, refer to cattle among the Nilotes there
is a very common association between war and cattle raiding:
1 D . A. Puplampu, 'The National Epic of the Adangme', A/r. Affairs 50,
1951, p. 241.
* G . A. Taylor, Some Mashona Songs and Dances, Nada 4, 1926, p. 39.
3 M . Delafosse, Essai de manuel de la tongue agni, Paris, 1900, pp. 180-1.

Special Purpose Poetry W ar, H unting , and Work

209

Great bull with testicles has been killed

It is Divinity
The dark clouds and'the morning rain blow up
M y mother a b u k , Divinity my father, help me
M y father garang , help me Divinity my father
If we sleep abroad,1 the white cow of my father
Will bring us cows
Avoid the spear, my age-set Mayom, avoid the spear
An affair of the great spear (a great fight)
0 my club!
The spear-haft in the mans back quivers
d en g Kim is a powerful divinity.
I f we sleep abroad, it brings cows
White cow of my father, I did not start the fight
The bulls meet head to head!
Cow which gave peace to my father
Cow bringing cows
Make peace as the Kongor tribe did with the Agar
Last years fighting is ended
Last years fighting thus is ended.*
T h e same associations with cattle come out in another D inka war
song where the feast or sacrifice implies w ar and hostility to
enemies:
1 Though the tribe holds a feast against me
I shall not fear,
Though all the people hold a feast against me
I shall not fear,
0 my tribe, I am a bull with sharpened horns,
1 am a maddened bull. . . .*
Some war poetry, then, is rather the expression o f the general
values relating to w ar than an immediate part o f an actual m ilitary
expedition. B ut other poems involve more direct participation, at
least in the preliminaries and aftermath o f war. T h e N goni o f
Malawi, for instance, had two main branches o f war songs: first
imigubo, those specifically intended for singing before going out to
fight; and secondly imihuBo, sung on their return. T h e first type
was still being sung in the 1930s, danced in full war dress w ith
1 i.e. as warriors on a cattle raid.
* G . Lienhardt, Divinity and Experience, the Religion of the Dinka, Oxford,
1961, pp. 88-9. Cf. also war poetry of Shilluk and others in Te'scaroli 1961, ch. 3.
3 Lienhardt, op. cit., p. 282.

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Poetry

shields and spears, and performed in the Paramount C hief's

village, the traditional place o f mobilization. T h e women too join
in the dance, and the tem po works up and up to inspire the men
with the lust for battle. M any o f these songs seem brief, but m uch
o f the tune was sung to meaningless though rousing sounds inyo
ho, oyayeyayo and so on and they were added to by the varied
accompaniment o f stamping feet and the clashing o f spears and
shields.1 Similar war songs from M alawi are mentioned by Kidney.
W hen sung they are accompanied by small drums, by the brandish
ing o f spears, and by bodily movements signifying courage and
defiance w hich stir up warlike feelings:
Fight now! Come and fight now!

Slay them! Well brandish spears!

Straight forth doth speed your arrow.
Tremble! Yes! They tremble!
When we draw near,
And fa r theyll flee as we approach them!
Sharpen keen your arrows!
Brave heads upraised and shouting
Loudly our defiance.
All they who oppose us.
Quickly our spears
Shall pierce their breasts. They will be scattered.1
It is common for songs celebrating military success to become
highly developed after the return home. F or example, the Kam ba
o f K enya make the return into a trium phal procession. Special
honour is ceremonially given to a K am ba man who has earned the
high title o f mutiaetwno, i.e. one who has personally killed a M asai
warrior. Such a man leads his triumphant band round the villages.
W hen they approach a village, they strike up their songs o f victory.
T h e hero is praised but his comrades help is not forgotten:
You wonder: he who sings the song o f victory, who is he? He is
mutiaetumo X (here follows his real name), who has fought with the
men of cattle [Masai], but if we had not helped each other, he should
not have come out of it successfully, aaaaahl1
T h e women play their part by greeting the warriors with shrill
cries lilt, liU, lili, UU! their normal w ay o f expressing jo y and
1 Read 1937, p. 29.
*
1 Kidney 1921, p. 126.
1 G . Lindblom, The Akamba in British East Africa, Uppsala, 2nd ed., 1920,
p. 199.

S p ecia l Purpose Poetry W ar, Hunting, and Work

211

delight, thus adding to the display and to the mens sense of

heroism.
T h e use o f war poetry in the actual face o f the enemy is best
documented for certain peoples o f North-West Africa. T h e Galla
gheraera, warriors boasting, is often in the form o f a challenge,
sometimes hurled between two armies.1 T h e Somali geeraar also
played an active part in war. Challenges to another clan to fight at
an appointed place used to be delivered in this form , and it was
also used to insult the enemy before the battle, at the same time
raising the singers morale. T h e geeraar is characterized by a note
o f urgency and rapid movement and was traditionally recited on
horseback.2 Am ong other groups, however, such as some o f the
Southern Bantu, the convention was to utter certain set war cries
rather than songs at the tim e o f the actual charge.
W ar songs arc possibly also sometimes sung in triumph on the
victorious field o f battle. T h is is supposed perhaps speculatively
to have been the case with an old Bcmba war song more recently
sung only round the camp fire, but originally, it is said, it was sung
by warriors dancing round the slain brandishing their spears. In
it the ch ief is described sending out his warriors; on their return
they
Sing songs of victory, saying,
Sompa, sotnpa, sompa, sompa, sompa, with the heads of the slain.2
B ut there are not, in fact, m any references to singing at the actual
moment o f victory. T h e most frequent occasions seem to be as the
w ar parties depart or return home, at later celebrations after
victory, or, occasionally, as challenge and insult before an actual
battle.
A lso common are poems in w hich the events o f war are touched
on in retrospect. T h e exploits o f war, together with religious topics,
are the m ost common themes o f poems associated w ith the Islam ic
tradition, as among the Swahili or the Hausa. It has already been
said that, apart from Islam ic influence, narrative poetry is not a
typical form in African oral literature, and it is not surprising to
find that in many o f the poems about war the element o f narrative
is overshadowed b y that o f glorification, so that one cannot always
1 Chadwicks iii, 1940, pp. 548-9.
1 Andrzejewski and Lewis 1964, p. 49.
* R. O Ferrall, 'An Old War Song o f the Bcbemba, B S O S 4, 1926/8, p. 841.

212

P oetry

draw the line between war poetry and panegyric (including praise
at funeral celebrations). T h e praise poems o f the Southern Bantu,
discussed in an earlier chapter, have war and military prowess as
one o f their main themes, and the same blend of praise and interest
in battle heroism can be seen in the heroic recitations' o f the
Ankolc Hima.1 In Ruanda, Kagam e describes military poetry as
taking two main forms.1 T h e heroic ibitekerezo (the conquests of
Ruanda) are preserved by the court bards as a type of classical
military poetry. When young men are being trained in the military
arts, they have to learn these poems and try to'compose others in
the same style. In these, it seems, the narrative element is the more
marked. T h e second type, however, is much more in the form o f
panegyric. These are the lyric odes termed ibyivugo, composed by
the court bards to exalt the exploits o f heroes. Th ere is no exact
correspondence with real acts, for the point is to celebrate high
and often fictitious deeds rather than to record (c 6tait de la
Poesie; oeuvre dimagination),* and the descriptions o f battles are
decorated by the frequent use o f praise names glorifying the hero
and his companions Prodigue-de-blcssures, Chagrins-des-pays6trangers, and so on. Contem plation and description o f battle
after the event seem inevitably to be expressed as glorification
and praise.
These then are some o f the occasions on which poems described
in the sources as military or war songs were (or are) actually
performed. It seems clear that the romantic picture o f the natural
occasion for savage war songs as mainly confined to the actual
heat o f battle, or its immediate prelude or aftermath is an
exaggerated one.
How over-simplified this popular picture is will emerge further
from a glimpse o f the m ilitary poetry o f the Nguni and the Akan
peoples. These peoples, in particular their sub-groups the Zulu
and the Ashanti, were well known to their European opponents of
sixty or seventy years ago for their military qualities. T h e Nguni
case must be pieced together from various passing references to
their military poetry in the past. For the Akan we can look at the
equally interesting way in w hich a type o f poetry regarded as
military survives in the contem porary situation.
* Morris 1964.
* Kagame 1956/7; cf. also Coupez and Kamanzi 1962.
> Kagame 1956/7, p. 119.

Special Purpose Poetry W ar, H unting, and W ork

213

T h e Nguni-speaking peoples o f southern A frica are famous for

their military organization and warlike ethic. T h e best known o f
all are the Z u lu ,1 welded together into a great military system b y
Shaka in the early ninteenth century. B u t others too o f this group
have also been noted for the same all-pervading military spirit
the Swazi, neighbours o f the Z u lu , the N debele, and the N goni
o f Malawi w ho form ed part o f the great N gun i dispersal o f peoples
moving north as a result of Shakas expansion.
From Shakas tim e the whole nation w as organized into a kind
o f military camp, and war was the main centre o f interest.2 T h e
stress on m ilitary glory, on triumph, and on the possibility o f
attaining honour and position through achievement in war comes
out both in the praise songs discussed in an earlier chapter, and
also in the Z u lu war songs (iziquBulo, amahuBo):
Oye oyeyel
Seek out the cowards,
The lion-conqueror strikes.
Come, lets march into battle;
No more the time for boastful arguments.
What, sayest thou the time for boastful argument is over?
Begone
Who told the news that wranglings have ceased?
The house of Qolwana set we on fire.
We make no jokes, no lies tell we.
He is full of hate, full of hate.
Oyeyiya wo!
Come, see us set aflame the house o f Qolwana.
On whom will you make war
If you wipe out all the nations thus?
Ho! H o ! . . .
You who defeat the foes
And conquer the nations.
If you wipe out the nations thus,
On whom will you make war?
Yea, what will you do?
You have subdued the kings;
You have wiped out the nations.
Where and what next,
Conqueror?
E!
E!
E!>

1 The most convenient summary is that in E. J. Krige, The Social System

o f the Zulus, 1936, Pietermaritzburg.
* Dhlomo 1947, p. 6.
1 Ibid., pp. 261 ff.

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Poetry

U nder Shaka, the Z u lu were reorganized into regiments o f

800-1,000 strong, m aking up an arm y o f perhaps 20,000, maybe
m ore.1 Th ere was a centralized standing arm y, an unusual feature
in Africa, and tinlike the N ilotes and similar peoples, the Z ulu
showed an interest in conquest and territorial expansion as well as
mere raiding for cattle and other movables. Internally there was
rivalry between the different Zulu regiments, expressed in com
petitiveness in battle and in dancing and singing at the royal kraal.
Each regiment had its own regimental songs, dress, and war-cry,
w hich distinguished it from others, and it was only in the actual
heat o f battle that th e national w ar-cry w as used; before that, as
th ey set off, only the regimental war-cries w ere shouted. Each
regiment also often had its military kraal, separate from others and
under its own captain. E ven in normal conditions the men were
expected to serve for at least two to three m onths a year, and, if
there was no war, they w ere engaged in various communal tasks.
E ven in peace, the m ilitary spirit was paramount. T h ere was stern
discipline, and m ilitary dances and songs fulfilled the function o f
drill.* M any o f these dances were based on m ilitary manoeuvering
and amounted to a kind o f sham battle. T h e desire for glory, the
excitement o f war, and national and regimental pride could be
instilled within the m ilitary kraals even in peacetime.
W ar songs w ere also sung on more colourful occasions. T h e
most striking o f all was the annual first fruits ceremony held in the
presence o f the king, w hen the army o f the nation gathered, regi
ment by regiment, to display its might in public. Several of these
nineteenth-century displays are described in early sources,
summed up b y K rig e:
The most spectacular and imposing of all Zulu dancing w as. . . that
of the regiments of warriors in full regimental dress; and the annual
dances at the royal kraal, just after the Feast of the First-fruits, must
have presented a most brilliant and colourful sig h t.. . . The king first
of all reviewed the army, seated in his chair of state. On the occasion
witnessed by Delegorgue, the regiments o f young warriors came,
grouped in six great masses of about 1000 each, made a rapid charge, then
became orderly again and began to dance a war chant, the ground re
sounding under their feet. They marched to within five paces of the
king, and formed a kind o f serpent which unrolled itself from three rings.
1 Krige, op. cit., p. 262.
* Similar Swazi chants to accompany military drill (still being sung) can be
heard on a recording in the 'Music of Africa' series (G A L P 1041).

S p ecia l Purpose Poetry W ar, Hunting, and W ork

215

Each regiment had its own particular dance and song, and each mnn, on
passing the king, bent low and hurled him a greeting with an air of
anger. These evolutions lasted many hours.. . .
T h e king, on one such occasion, took his position at the head and
centre of a line of several thousand men, with an equal number opposite
them. They began to sing and march, reinforcing their foot movements
with gestures of the arms in all directions with wonderful uniformity.
Then, chanting and dancing, the column following, the king slowly
advanced and the two horns united to form a circle, the warriors finally
sitting down in a ring with shields raised yet heads showing.. .
T h e excitement and pride engendered b y such ceremonial
displays come out too, although perhaps with rather lesser in
tensity, in the war songs sung before going out to battle, or in
trium ph after it. T h e desire for glory and the sense o f competitive
ness w ere incited by the stirring war songs and dances, where the
words, the melody, and the movem ent all helped to create a warlike
atmosphere. These, like other war songs, were often highly rhyth
m ical and onomatopoeic. A n example can be given from the
N goni o f Malawi, a N guni offshoot who preserve w ar songs o f the
same types as do the m ore southerly Nguni groups. T h e y are
known as imigubo (songs for setting out to war) and, though short
and onomatopoeic, mount u p to a high pitch o f intensity as the
men dance, stamping their feet and knocking their shields:
Ee, ee, ee
What are we contending for?
What are we contending for
In this way in the sky?
Ee, ee, ee,
A
Oyi, oyi, oyi!
s
The sun is setting.

AFRlC/j

*1

Ee, ee, ee
What are we contending for?
What are we contending for
In this way in the sky?
Ee, ee, ee,
Oyi, oyi, oyi I*

,-sSyovesj

T h ese songs, once so appropriate to the warlike spirit o f N gun i

society, are not totally forgotten today. In the 1930s some were
still being sung in M alaw i; others have been recorded m ore
1 Krige, op. cit., p. 34a.

* Read 1937, p. 30.

2l6

Poetry

recently in South Africa b y the African M usic Society. However,

nowadays they are used m ainly for ceremonial display or, at
times, to pander to romantic ideas about the savage and tribal
past o f the Bantu. Some o f the songs are now sometimes adapted
for faction fighting,1 and' modifications of the old m ilitary forms
have been used, it is said, for political intimidation.2 B ut these
survivals are o f less interest than the purposeful development o f
military literature in the nineteenth century. These earlier N guni
war songs can only be fully appreciated in relation to their complex
and specialized military organization. T h ey are not attached
prim arily to the circumstances o f actual battle, but to the routine
and the ceremonies o f military activity, developed among a people
for whom , even in peacetime, the military ethic was predominant.
T h e A kan peoples, w ith their multiplicity o f specialist associa
tions, are very different from the Nguni. T h e Alum have a tradi
tion o f warrior associations or war companies w hich possess their
own characteristic form o f drum m ing and poetry.3 I t is true that
these associations no longer flourish as in the past (the Ashanti
associations, for example, w ere suppressed after the events o f
1896-1900). But in the southern Akan area, particularly among the
Fante, they are still active, and even elsewhere their poetry is still
performed. There is an over-all homogeneity in their patterns o f
music and organization w hich makes it possible to generalize about
their poetry.
T h ere are two main types o f Akan warrior associations: com
panies o f the court comprising the highest war leaders under the
control o f the rulers, and the company o f commoners, asafo,
a term now used indiscriminately for all warrior associations.
These war companies consist o f all able-bodied men combined
under a leader in external or internal disputes. T h e y also act as
a group for certain types o f communal work and in the enthrone
ment and deposition ceremonies o f rulers. In the Fante area where
these asafo companies are most important, there m ay be as many
as seven or ten companies in a single town; elsewhere one village
or group o f villages shares one company. A ll these companies are
highly organized bodies w ith their own captains w ho act as inter
mediaries between themselves and the political rulers o f the state.
1 See Tracey 19486, pp. vii-viii.
* Afr. Music 2. 4 ,19 6 1, p. 117 (Southern Rhodesia).
1 Described in Nketia 19636, ch. 9.

Special Purpose Poetry W ar, H unting, and W ork

217

T h ey are headed by the captain of the host or war leader who is

helped by various other officials, among them the frankaatufos or
standard-bearer who regulates the march, the asafo kyerema, the
master drummer who calls the warriors to action, urges them on,
and keeps up morale, and the nnavmtabofoo, player o f twin gongs.
Drum m ing plays an important part. D rum s and gongs are
played with a few members o f the com pany leading the song, the
rest acting as chorus. Among the most important songs are the
calls. These are rousing cries to the com pany which, nowadays at
least, precede or interrupt a cycle o f songs but show clear marks
o f their once fu lly military character:
Fire!1 Fire!
Fire! Asafo Kyiremu.1
Fire!
We are not afraid.
No, not a bit.
Asafo Kyiremu,
We are not afraid o f anybody.}
Different companies often have their ow n special calls and
responses, sometimes partly spoken b y the drummer, and these
marie out their identity as distinct from others and engender the
mass feeling that is so important in the activities o f asafo'.4 <
T h is feeling is further intensified b y the frequent songs celebrat
ing particular companies, combining boastfulness with insults to
their enemies. T h u s one song about Apentc (a court company)
runs:
Osee, man of Apente.
Osee, man of Apente,
We shall fight battles for our nation,
There was a battle brewing; Osee,
But the army of the enemy never arrived.
We did not feel their presence.
You are children of ghosts, and nocturnal fighters.
Night fighters,
You have laid them low.
Osee has laid you low.
The night fighter has laid you low.4
1 Sign of danger; hence = alarm.
1 The name o f an association; any other such name may be substituted.
1 Nketia 19636, p. 107.
4 Ibid., p. 108.

2X8

Poetry

Another such song refers to the Ashanti wars w ith the British and
praises the deeds o f Apagya, a royal military company among the
Ashanti:
Hirelings adamant to rain and scorching sun.
Members of the Apagya company,
There was a cannon mounted vainly on top of the fort.1
The cannon could not break us,
The trusted company that engages in battle.
Hail the helper!1
T h e Apagya company is also exultantly praised in
He has killed the Southerners.
He has killed the Northerners,
It is Asafo Apagya,
The Umbrella tree.
The Umbrella tree has branches above and below,
The crafty Umbrella tree.
King,
Hail the helper!1
N ot all military songs explicidy glorify war, however. Some
also exhibit an awareness o f the dangers and cost o f war. Th ere
are always casualties, for battle never goes hungry. T h e warrior
leaves in the knowledge that he may not return but that he goes
to do his duty courageously:
Kwaakwaa4 accompanies me to the front.
Man of Apagya, if I die in the morning, no-one should mourn for me.
Yes if I fall iii the morning,
Okoromansa accompanies me to battle, no-one should weep on my
account.5
Yes if I fall in the morning,
I f I fall in the morning do not cry.
Yes if I die in the morning.6
M em bers of the association are also summoned to battle b y a
drum -call giving th e associations name, praise name, and other
characteristic marks w hich distinguish it from others. One o f these
Bodyguard as strong as iron,
Fire that devours the nations . . .
1 Refers to Ashanti wars with the British. ,
1 Nketia 19636, p. 108.
5 Ibid., pp. 108-9.
4 T he god of a certain Apagya company.
1 As interpreted by a member of the company: If I fall in the morning of my
life, do not cry.
6 Nketia 19636, p. 109.

Special Purpose Poetry W ar, Hunting, and W ork

2x9

is quoted in full in Chapter 17 .1 In another the various names

associated w ith the company are given, then the ordinary members
are stirred up for the fight:
Members of the Advance Guard,
I mean you.
T h e leopard goes hungry
I f it pounces on a tortoise.
T h e leopard should never be considered old and feeble.
T h e leopard walks in the thicket:
T h e thicket trembles and shakes violendy.
Come hosts; come hosts; come hosts!
' Come in thick numbers.2
T h ere are also songs for conveying a dead member to a place
o f burial, songs for parading in the street, songs o f insult, songs of
incitement and so on.1 Besides these there are also some charac
teristic types belonging to particular companies or groups of
companies. T h e No. 1 Com pany o f Cape Coast, for example, has
several styles o f drumming, each used with a set o f songs designed
to accompany different kinds o f action. A high-spirited style
accompanies a display o f bravery in leap-dancing and strutting
action, and a gentler style is used for normal dancing. Associations
also sometimes create their own recreational music and dance as
w ell as th e more traditional types. A ll the regular songs are
characterized by their emotional quality and b y the specially
stirring effect o f the drumming, achieved largely b y the peculiar
timbre o f the leading drums. W ithin this general spirit o f the
military songs
the leading role is . . . played by the cantors who may vary their styles.
Sometimes they sing long sustained notes while the chorus is held in
suspense; sometimes they use a recitative style, interpolating pauses in
the chorus responses with calls, short phrases or shouts, while others
animate the performance with occasional whistling and catcalls. Every
body lets himself go, singing at the top ofhis voice and with greatfeeling.1
A re these military songs still significant? Obviously the directly
m ilitary functions o f warrior associations have been superseded,
and in Ashanti at least, in the present century, they have not even
acted as very pronounced corporate groups. Y et it seems that not
only are the companies active on certain occasions (particularly in
1 p. 486.

2 Nketia 19636, p. itx.

1 Ibid., p. 1x0.

220

Poetry

the south) and seize the opportunity to perform their own songs
and music, but in some contexts they preserve their warlike and
forceful spirit. As Nketia writes:
In the past, the most important context in which Asafo groups
drummed and acted was during wars. Although this is no longer opera
tive, there is always a resurgence of the war spirit during major political
disputes, particularly disputes over constitutional issues in which Asafo
groups act as political pressure groups. Thus in Ashanti, where Asafo
companies are practically dormant, political crises often bring a
temporary awakening of such groups who are kept together by drums
and songs which promote the type of action required by the situation.1
Asafo music also still occurs in other contexts.2 In rural areas
in the south asafo companies are called on to perform certain
communal tasks and to organize search-parties for missing persons,
in the forest and at sea. Such searches create a particularly emo
tional atmosphere if the missing person is a member o f the com
pany, and many asafo songs are sung. Funerals o f a member are
also occasions for the performance o f these songs. In the southern
Akan states there are sometimes special annual ceremonies when
members renew their loyalty to their association and to the chief,
in which the most important feature is the performance o f music
and dancing, sometimes accompanied by the firing o f guns,
exhibition o f the associations standards and emblems, and the
installation o f new officers. Annual festivals o f the com m unity as
a whole are often the most common occasions for corporate public
activity b y warrior companies.
In all these contexts the spirit o f enjoyment as w ell as o f emo
tional intensity is now evident. T h e military companies are dis
tinguished b y their specialized -artistic conventions the military
mode o f song, music, and drumm ing and, in adapting to chang
ing situations, retain the .military subject-matter and warlike
fervour which before was o f more practical immediate relevance.2
' Nketia 19636, p. 115.
1 Or apparently did when Nketia was writing. His book appeared in 1963,
based on field research in the 19508.
> Other references on military songs include: A. Munonga, Chants historiques
bayeke, Bull, dec jurisdictions indigina [Elisabethville] 20, 1952 (A A 5. 345;
includes eight war songs); E. Cerulli, Poesie di guerra e di amore dei Galls,
Arch, antrop. e etnol. 5, 1942 (reference in I A I Bibl. (A ) by R. Jones, NorthEast Africa, 1959, p. 33); G . C . Savard, War Chants in Praise o f Ancient Afar
Heroes, J . Ethiopian Studies 3, 1965; H. Gaden, Un chant dc guerre toucouleur, A m . et mint. Com. it. A O F 1, 1916; D. Westermann, Shilluk People:

Specia l Purpose Poetry W ar, H unting, and W ork

22s

11
Hunting poetry can be discussed more briefly. It shares many
of the characteristics o f military poetry, particularly its association
with the ideas o f danger, pride, and glory, its common appearance
as a more or less specialized branch o f poetry, and, finally, its
frequent preoccupation not just w ith action but with the con
templation o f action, in prospect or (more often) in retrospect.
It is not surprising that hunting, with its associated hazards and
heroism, is a frequent topic in the songs o f many peoples. It is, for
example, one o f the most common themes o f Bushman songs,1 in
a way that fits their harsh struggle for existence. T h is is well
expressed by M arshall:
Women bring the daily food, but there is nothing splendid about
returning with vegetables and wood. Many of the vegetable foods,
furthermore, are rather tasteless and harsh and are not very satisfying.
The return of the hunters is vastly different. T h e intense craving for
meat, the anxiety that goes with the hunt, the deep excitement o f the
kill, Anally the eating and the satisfaction reach to the very core of the
people, engaging powerful emotions. Once a young man, /Qui, who was
said to be the best hunter in the region, had been charged by a mag
nificent cock ostrich on a big open pan where there was no refuge. He
knelt, facing the creature, until it was within close range and shot an
arrow straight into its heart. Back in the werf, while the meat was being
cut up and distributed by /Quis wifes brothers, he slept exhausted on
the mound of black and white plumes and the women some o f the
plumes in their hair danced a dance of praise around him. This is the
role of IKung [Bushman] hunters.2
T h e romance and excitement associated with hunting is vividly
depicted in the Zulu song about a buffalo hunt:

Iyeyahel Iyayayi!
A whirlwind! the buffalo!
Some leave and go home;
Some pursue and obtain;
We shoot the rising,
But leave the wounded.
Iyeyahe.3

their Language and Folklore, Philadelphia, 1912, pp. 237-8; P. B. Dahle, Eine
Siegeshymne der Ama-Zulu, Festschrift Meinhof, GlUckstadt, 1927, pp. i 74~95 <
Kirkby 1936, p. 245.
1 L . Marshall in J. L . Gibbs (ed.), Peoples o f Africa, New York, 1965, p. 255.
3 Dhlomo 1947, p. 6.
8161314
Q

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Poetry

Perhaps the most com m on occasion for hunting songs is a suc

cessful kill. A s in m ilitary celebrations, they often take place
some time after the event. W e do, it is true, occasionally hear o f
a solitary hunter or group o f hunters bursting into more or less
immediate song over som e outstanding kill. A m ong the Akan, for
instance, a hunter is expected to climb on to the body o f an ele
phant and burst into song:
The violent shaker that shakes down living trees it by-passes [the
elephant],
Duedu Akwa,
Father Duedu Duben,
Oben and Dankyira, trier-of-Death,
Father [the hunter] deserves to be congratulated.
Father has achieved something:
T h e hunter has done well!1
B ut even among the A kan, hunting songs are m ost frequently per
form ed on public and festive occasions. In general the most
comm only mentioned occasion is when the hunter has returned to
the village: he is often welcom ed and congratulated. T h e Ethiopian
hunter returning from killing an elephant is received b y a double
chorus:
1st chants. He has slain, he has destroyed him.
2nd chants. Whither went he when he slew him?
1st chants. As he went hence did I see him at all ?
A ll.
Perhaps on the bank of the river he has stricken him down.
Destroyer and slayer art thou called,
Hurrah, Hurrah, doubly a slayer.2
A m ong other peoples a later and more organized celebration is the
usual pattern. T h u s am ong the Lim ba o f northern Sierra Leone,
the killing o f a bush cow is regarded as the occasion for a special
celebration (madonna). B u t this never takes place on the actual
occasion o f the hunt. Instead, a special date is fixed, several days
later. T h en , in the night, the hunter comes out, accompanied and
watched b y others, and th e special hunters songs and dances are
performed. T h e occasion necessarily involves m any people as*
* Nketia 19636, p. 81. See Junod 1897, p. 55. for a Ronga song in similar
circumstances.
2 Chadwicks iii, 1940, p. 514.

S p ecia l Purpose Poetry W ar, Hunting, and W ork

223

participants and spectators, and is in striking contrast to the actual

process o f the hunt, typically pursued, among the Lim ba, by the
solitary individual, followed only b y his faithful dog.
Praise and celebration is often reserved for the killing o f game
considered to be particularly outstanding or dangerous. According
to the area, these may be such animals as elephant, lion, leopard,
or buffalo. T h e risks and the achievement o f the hunter(s) are
further magnified by the terms used to refer to these beasts like,
for example, Elephant praisenamed He-who-uses-his-hand-as-atrum pet, Elephant called He-who-remains-mountainous-evenwhen-seated.1 T h e hunter him self also sings boastfully o f his
exploits and retells his heroism in poetry designed for an audience
rather than for the exigencies o f the hunt itself. A m ong the Akan
he announces his return after a major kill by firing his gun on the
outskirts o f the village, and when people come to meet him he
relates his success in recitative, a set refrain denoting the sex o f
the elephant killed for example:
I am stalking an animal.
I am stalking an animal stealthily,
That I might kill it.z
Such songs o f triumph and recollection are common and are
often mentioned as separate forms. In some societies they are
particularly specialized. H unters m ay be expected to undergo
special training, often involving magical and artistic as well as
practical skills, and are sometimes form ed into organized associa
tions w ith their own rules, hierarchy, and initiation. Such organiza
tions are not uncommon in W est A frica and often have their own
songs. A m ong the Akan the professional association o f hunters
uses hunting songs to assert their pride and their dominance over
even the political authorities or so they wish to suggest:
Is the chief greater than the hunter?
Arrogance! Hunter? Arrogance!
The pair o f beautiful things on your feet,
The sandals that you wear,
How did it all happen?
It is the hunter that killed the duyker:
T h e sandals are made of the hide of the duyker.
1 From a Yoruba hunters' chant (ifala), Babalpla 1965, p. 51.
1 Nketia, op. cit., p. 84.

2*4

Poetry
Does the chief say he is greater than the hunter?
Arrogance I Hunter? Arrogance!
The noisy train that leads you away,
The drums that precede you,
The hunter killed the elephant,
The drum head is the ear of the elephant.
Does the chief say He is greater than the hunter?
Arrogance! Hunter? Arrogance!1

H unting songs are also often sung at the funerals o f skilled

hunters.12 Hunting associations also sometimes have special festivals
when, for example, they admit hunters to new ranks in the hierarchy
or celebrate a major kill.3 A t these celebrations the episodes o f
the hunt are often dramatically re-enacted, with the members o f
the association singing and declaiming the traditional hunting
songs.
In some cases, hunting poems have become a specialized and
independent branch of poetry, no longer related to the actual hunt
at all. Yoruba ijala chants, for example, are sometimes associated
specifically with hunting and performed at gatherings o f specialist
hunters. But ijala artists are also highly regarded b y the public as
general entertainers and are invited to perform on social occasions
that have no specific association with hunting at all.45T h is genre
o f Yoruba poetry has its own conventions and them es.3 It is
delivered as a kind of recitative a type o f speech utterance with
rudimentary musical characteristics, rather than a species o f song4
which is accentuated b y certain rhythmic and tonal devices.
Often there is no very clear central theme, but the poem rambles
from one topic to another in a w ay which distinguishes these poems
from certain of the other specialist branches o f Yoruba poetry and
also demonstrates how far removed this species o f hunting poetry
is from direct involvement in action. One dominant theme is
verbal salute and praise in such phrases as Son o f a fighter at
Ilala, offspring o f warriors carrying many arrows, or In m y very
person I have come, / A tanda He-whose-face-is-usually-cloudylike-the-sky-before-a-storm, / He-who-fatigues-his-opponent-like1 Nketia, op. dt., p. 76.
2 e.g. among the Dogon, Limba, Akan, Ambo, and many others.
* See Nketia, op. d t., pp. 85 ff.
4 Babalpla 1964, P- 33 *
5 On which see the excellent discussion in Babalpla 1966.

S p ecia l Purpose Poetry W ar, H unting, and W ork

225

a-person-soaked-and-exhausted by rain. 1 But there are also many

chants about the animals arid plants o f the forest, particularly about
monkeys, antelopes, elephants, or the m uch feared buffalo. Various
comments on social life are also typical and many o f the poems are
noted for their vitality and humour, in particular their treatment
o f sex. T h ese points can be illustrated from three ijala poems from
Gbadamosi and Beiers examples:
Tuku Wild Pig
T h e fat one of the thick bush.
The animal that carries scissors in its mouth.
Although we do not marry his daughter
Y et he demands to be treated like our father-in-law.
(For the one who wants to shoot it
Must prostrate to it.)
An animal that enlarges its nose
In order to better smell the vagina.12*
Erin Elephant
Elephant who brings death. Elephant, a spirit in the bush.
With his single hand he can pull two palm trees to the ground.
If he had two hands
He would tear the heavens like an old rag.
The spirit who eats dog, the spirit who eats ram.
The spirit who eats a whole palm fruit with its thorns.
With his four mortar legs he tramples down the grass.
Wherever he walks, the grass is forbidden to stand up again.
An elephant is not a load for an old man
Nor for a young man either.1
Cassava
If you eat me and call my praises at the same time
You teach me to be dangerous.4
Plant me like a good planter and I will grow fat even like yam.
Throw me away and I will still develop well.
But the one who hangs me on the branch of a tree he is really my
enemy.
1 Babalpla 1965, pp. 52, 54. T he last two sections of the second passage con
sist of three words only in the original.
1 Gbadamosi and Beier 1959, p. 33 J Ibid., p. 34.
4 It is forbidden to say the oriki (praises) o f cassava while eating it.

226

Poetry
I do not fight the one who holds the stick
Only the one who holds the pot.1
It causes the lips of the wife to swell.
It enlarges the penis of the husband.
The mouth o f Lambare becomes large like a drum.
If you ask him: What is the matter?
Are you eating so much cassava?
He will reply: Oh, occasionally, occasionally,
You just wait: cassava will deal with you.
Tete Bere! Now you have dysentery!
Now you start worshipping Oshun!
This is not a matter for the gods:
Even if you pray to Obatala himself
Cassava will carry you away!
When people see you on the road they argue:
Is it a new wife? Ha, it is cassava.
See how it rubs its body with red camwood.12*
Cassava with a rough skin to its back.1

These ijala poem s are far removed from simple and more direct
hunting songs. T h e Y oruba hunter is expected to possess intel
lectual skills beyond those to do with the hunt and to sing o f other
topics than his ow n bravery. Y et these poems are locally classed
as the poetry o f hunters and ultimately are connected with the
same root idea as in other hunting poems the idea o f hunting as
a heroic and m emorable activity.4
T h is cursory discussion of hunting poetry w ill be concluded
b y a somewhat fuller account o f the hunting songs (cinseggwe) o f
the Am bo o f Zam bia which have been treated in some detail by
Stefaniszyn.s
For the A m bo the hunter and above all the elephant hunter is
traditionally surrounded with a halo o f romance and hero-worship.
Though there seem to be no associations o f the W est African type,
nevertheless, hunters are experts and have their own rituals, feasts,
and songs. T h e A m b o hunter seems to be typically a solitary prac
titioner, but in certain respects he is helped and guided by other
1 When making gruel out o f cassava flour the one holding the pot may bum
his fingers.
2 Cassava has a reddish colour like camwood. New brides rub their bodies
with camwood.
J.Gbadamosi and Beier 1959, p. 34.
4 For further discussion and examples of ijala poetry, see Babalpla 1966
passimj also F. S. Collier, Yoruba Hunters* Salutes, Nigerian Field 18, 1953.
* Stcfaniszyn 1951.

Special Purpose Poetry War, Hunting, and W ork

227

m embers o f the community and has obligations to them when he

kills meat. H e usually receives his gun the mark o f a hunter from
one o f his mothers relations in accordance with the matrilineal
inheritance pattern of the A m bo, and, both after his acquisition of
the gun and before certain o f the hunts, private and joint rituals
are carried out to ensure success. A hunter also has a special rela
tionship with the spirit o f one o f his dead kinsmen, often his father,
w ho guards and guides him as a hunter. T h e emotional relationship
w ith his father is of a m uch m ore personal nature than the legal
bond with his matrilineal kin and comes out in several o f the
hunting songs. T h e son praises his fathers exploits as a hunter and
m ounts his loss:
I had a father,
The wailing is great.
Father, its dawn . . .
I remember the great hunter.
They are bursting into tears . . .
I, a poor fellow, I shall wail,
I, who had been dividing the meat.1
O r, again, he sets out delighting in his gun. T h en his thoughts are
drawn back sorrowfully to when his father was alive but he
brings himself back to the present, to look at the tracks o f his
quarry:
How fine is my gun,
How fine is my gun,
Ah, when my father was alive.
I mourn for Siliyolomona,
But I must see the tracks.1
W hen an Am bo hunter is wandering alone and unsuccessful he
sometimes sings to cheer him self up. But by far the most frequent
occasions for performing the hunting chants are communal ones.
T h e hunting chants are sung w ith other songs at ordinary beer
parties. A hunter also joins w ith others in singing on the night
before a hunt, and at the sacrificial beer for a successful hunt. A
special hunting feast may also be prepared by a hunter w ho has
killed, say, four animals. H e invites his friends and feeds them from
the meat he has killed. A fter the meal the men sing about the hunt.
1 Ibid., p. 6.

Poetry

228

T h e y reminisce, for example, about how the gam e is being cut

up or how a canoe is called for after a hippopotamus has been
killed:
Chop it, chop it, chop it,
Do take it and chop it;
Do take it and chop it yourself.'
Chipishya, bring the boat,
Have you killed it, hunter?
Chipishya bring the boat,
Chipishya bring the boat,
Have you killed it, hunter?1
Stefaniszyn states that the hunting songs sung on these occasions
are all traditional ones, and that no new songs are composed. T h ey
are all relatively short and fairly directly involved with the actual
process o f hunting and its consequences. In other words, Ambo
hunting poetry does not seem to have developed into a complex and
flexible branch of poetry which can be turned to many subjects
and occasions in the w ay we have seen in some o f the Akan or
Yoruba 'hunting poems. N or are there lengthy narratives. T h is
is lyrical poetry. There are no long descriptions o f events, but a
short recalling of events o f rather sentimental value, always very
realistic.2
T h eir artistic conventions come out partly in the mode o f
delivery. Though they are sung antiphonally, the m elody is not o f
great importance and the main tone is rccitando with strongly
marked rhythm. T h e accompaniment consists o f percussion (gourd
drums, rattles, and axe-blades struck against stones), and some
times the hunter him self dances with a gun, horns, and animal
trophies. There are also stylistic and verbal conventions. A special
poetic vocabulary is used in the songs, including borrowed and
perhaps archaic words. T h is poetic effectiveness is heightened by
the frequent use of ideophones and of what Stefaniszyn refers to
as Homeric epithets praise terms like T h e uprooter o f mvoetfge
trees (of an elephant) or T h e pursuer o f game. . . . T h e pursuer
o f tails (the hunter). T h e use o f various types o f parallelism is also
common, compared by Stefaniszyn to that in the Hebrew psalms.
T h is may involve more repetition or the type o f development
through parallelism exemplified by
1 Stefaniszyn, p. 4.

1 Ibid., pp. 1 1 -ia .

Specia l Purpose Poetry W ar, H unting , and W ork

229

Off he went to the veld.

O ff he went to the veld, the great hunter.1
Parallelism is also used to lead up to a clim ax at the very end o f the
piece a marked tendency in these poems:
Heavens, my heart is throbbing,
While I see them standing.
Heavens, my heart is throbbing,
While I see them standing,
While I see the game standing.
Nafzoa mutima kubamba,
Pakusatjga silimakene.
Naftoa mutima kubamba
Pakusatjga silimakene,
Pakusatjga silimakene nama,1
T h is song, expressing the hunters thrill at the sight o f game, leads
up to an effective climax when the final word game {nama) is at
last uttered as i f w ith awe .2
Besides the conventional form s o f delivery and verbal expression
there are also stock themes, all directly concerned w ith hunting.
Several o f these have been illustrated already: the triumph and
excitement o f a successful kill and its aftermath; fam ily feelings,
especially the emotions of pride and grief felt b y a son for his
father; and the thrill of pursuit. But the hardships and dangers o f
hunting are not forgotten, and these too are common subjects.
T h e A m bo hunters grim tenacity and perseverance in face o f
hardship are often extolled:
L et the hunter take out the thorn,
L et the hunter take out the thorn,
Then cursing and roving.
You love it, you will die of the thorn.
Off he went to the veld.
Off he went to the veld, the great hunter.1
Worse than physical hardship is the disappointment when the
hunter is unsuccessful, and this too is a frequent theme in
song:
1 Ibid., p. n .

2 Ibid., p. 10.

1 Ibid., p. 4*

*30

Poetry
I shall taste the'mark of the game,
W hen I find them where they lie.
Abundant is the spoor of game,
But the game has slipped away
It is gone.1

and
W e are tired of this bush;
There are no shadows in it,
There are no shadows in it, mind you,
There are no shadows of game.1
Success is sometimes tinged w ith jealousy when the hunter com
pares his own achievements with those o f others. One song, for
instance, describes the success o f a hunters companions:
Its boiling and boiling,
T h e hunters are cooking in a big pot.
Its boiling and boiling,
T h e hunters are cooking in a big p o t
Truly its boiling hard,
Ill kill two head to-morrow.*
Th ese Am bo hunting songs are more simple and direct than,
fo r example, some o f those from W est A frica. Y e t like them they
involve the glorification o f the hunter, the expression o f his hopes
and fears, the activities o f the chase, and reminiscence and reflec
tion at a time removed from the actual hunt. T h e y are most fre
quently performed on public occasions for in hunting, as in war
all members o f the community, and not ju st the individual hero,
are involved in both its results and its poetic distillation.3

in
Songs to accompany rhythm ic work seem to occur universally
in African societies. T h e y are extreme examples o f special pur
pose poetry in that they have a direct connection with a specific
occasion and with action itself, to an extent not found in most
hunting and war chants. T h e sort of w ork which these songs
1 Stefaniszyn 1951, p. 4.
.
Ibid., p. 9.
* Further references to hunting songs include A. Bouillon, La corporation
des chasseurs Baluba, Zaire 8, 1954; G. Paulay, Historique de la danse des
chasseurs de Touba , Noiet afr. 55, 1952.

S p ecia l Purpose Poetry W ar, Hunting, and W ork

231

accompany usually consists o f routine tasks such as paddling,

threshing, or hauling which are not in themselves regarded as
glorious or romantic. Unlike hunting and military poetry the work
thus provides the occasion rather than the subject-matter, and the
song depends on the rhythm o f the work rather than an audience
for its point o f departure.
T h e occasions for these work songs include almost all contexts
in w hich monotonous labour is involved; though conventions as to
their use vary in different societies.1 Th ere are co-operative songs
for hoeing, weeding, mowing, launching a boat, sawing, hauling in
fish-nets, pounding, floor-beating, throwing water u p from deep
wells in a human chain, carrying a chief in his hammock, hanging
up beehives, or rubbing animal skins to make them soft; there are
domestic and solitary songs fo r women grinding com or pounding
rice; there are gang songs for pulling trucks, for road work, for
factory hands, and for miners.
It is w ell known that manual workers often sing such songs to
accompany their hard physical labour. T h e dock hands at Beira
have a song
Dawn with freight,
Yes, Yes!
Dawn with freight,
Look for the label.3
while the men pushing heavy truck-loads' o f hides down the
K ilindini road in M ombasa used to sing in Swahili

Nam nahiimacho juu!

T h is way eyes up
Senti hapana macho juu! There are no cents eyes up *.

M any other similar songs are popular among labouring gangs.

T h ere are, for instance, the songs by South African road workers
and miners, b y the men working on the Kariba dam, or b y builders
in Nigeria.
In rural areas, agricultural work provides the occasion for work
songs. F or instance, in Southern Rhodesia, maize threshing is a
popular tim e for songs. T h e men and boys do the singing while
the women stay in the background, yodelling at intervals w ith a
staccato effect. A s often w ith work songs, the words themselves are

1 On the conventions in different parts o f Ghana, for example, see Nketia

196a, p. 7.
* Curtis 1920, p. 32.
* Werner 1927, p. 102.

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Poetry

simple, with many nonsense words to fill up the rhythm effectively,

and there is alternation between leaders and chorus. T h is is evident
in the following three Zezuru threshing songs from Southern
Rhodesia:
1st. Leave me to die, they have gored me, Nwechafaka.
A ll. Yes, yes (he he ha he ha) the priest, oh, plenty of trouble.
1st. Do not trouble me
A ll. Trouble, trouble
Let the women dance in our honour, do not trouble me
M y wife do not come to trouble me.
1st. Wife
A ll. Trouble
1st. T o the spring
A ll. Trouble
We love each other friend, is she not friend.
1st.
A ll.
1st.
A ll.

Woe is me, we have grown up

Those who have cattle, let them gather them, we do not know
Woiye rye rye you must thresh like mother
Oh, they cry for a fruit tree.1

T h e way such songs can at once lighten, co-ordinate, and em

bellish agricultural labour can be briefly illustrated from tw o types
o f work songs among the Lim ba. F o r them, songs accom pany
many o f their agricultural activities. T w o only are singled out here:
hoeing the rice near the start o f the farm ing year, and the threshing
that follows harvesting.
One o f the most demanding occasions o f the Lim ba farm ing
cycle is hoeing in the rice after it has been sown, and this, i f under
taken by individuals, is regarded as involving wearisome and
exhausting labour. T h e most common practice is to form special
'companies, each with a drummer, to go round to the farm s to
hoe. T h e occasion is turned into a festive one. T h e drum m er
stands in front, beating his drum and leading the song. N ext follow
those who are scattering the seed. A n d finally the hoers come, per
haps sixteen or twenty of them, sometimes fifty or more, stretched
across the hillside in a long line singing in reply to the leader. T h e
whole line raise their hoes simultaneously, then strike together at
the ground three times before the up-stroke and pause as the hoes are
1 W . G . Stead, Zezuru threshing songs, Enkeldoom, 1937 (manuscript in
Doke Collection, University College Library, Salisbury, Southern Rhodesia).

Special Purpose Poetry W ar, H unting, and W ork

233

raised once more a marked rhythm o f dig, dig, dig, up; one, two,
three, pause, with strong emphasis on the first down-stroke. T h e
beat and song keep the line exactly together, and there is a feeling
o f competition and excitement which keeps all in their places with
no falling behind or faltering. In this way the huge farm gets hoed
with incredible speed, and the Lim ba themselves point to the
importance of the songs in adding both efficiency and pleasure.
T h eir jo y in the songs is very obvious (they even look forward to
this season of exhausting work), and many o f them make semi
dancing steps as they progress with their hoes up the hill.
M any Lim ba consider the songs used for threshing even more
attractive. In these norm ally sung by rather smaller groups the
w ords arc more developed, more variation seems to be encouraged
and many different songs are sung on one occasion. There is no
drumm ing and usually no specialist singer, for even the leader
takes part in the work, albeit a little less vigorously and regularly
than the others. T h e occasion o f threshing is a happy one: the
harvest is on the w ay to completion, there is plenty o f food once
again, and the moment that has been looked forward to through
out the year has arrived. T h e rice is piled up on the threshing area,
and the young men gather round with their sticks, raising them in
a ring of a dozen or so at a time. Another ring may form at the
other end of the threshing floor, and, led by the most expert singer,
the two groups begin by answering to qach others song in turn,
repeating the verse inaugurated by the leader. Later they join
together in the chorus. A gain a fourfold rhythm form s the frame
w ork o f the music and the work, this time w ith the stress on the
third beat, followed b y a pause as the sticks are raised and the men
take a step together, kicking up the straw, to m ove down the
floor beat, beat, beat, pause; one, two, three, step. W ith heavy
sticks about three feet long, brought down w ith great force, the
co-ordinated timing given by the rhythm o f the m usic is indeed
necessary to avoid accidents as well as to encourage and delight
both workers and bystanders. T h e y may sing, for example:

Soloist.
1st chorus.
2nd chorus.

Dont reproach me about (not having) children

I had a child long ago but God did not let him live.
Dont reproach me about children!
I had a child long ago but the witches ate him.
Laima 0 laima.*

1 Meaningless but (to the Limba) pleasing syllables.

*34

Poetry

1st chorus.
Yes!
2nd chorus.
Laima o lama.
Double chorus. Dont reproach me about children!
I had a child long ago but the witches ate him.
Dont reproach me about (not having) a wife!
I had a wife long ago, but the chief took her.
Dont reproach me about a wife!
1st chorus.
I had a wife long ago, but the chief took her.
Laima 0 lairna.
2nd chorus.
1st chorus.
Yes!
Laima o lairna.
2nd chorus.
Double chorus. Dont reproach me about a wife!
I had a wife long ago but the chief took her . . .
Soloist.

and so on and on with'constant repetitions of the soloists verses.

T h is tim e the dancing is quite explicit. T h e step onwards is a
dance step, the movements are thought beautiful in themselves,
and sometimes the rice is beaten only twice so that the dance can
be elaborated in the time o f th e third beat. T h e work is exhausting
and the m en run w ith sweat b u t the dominant feeling is o f a
festive and artistic occasion.1
.
Canoeing songs are common am ong many riverain and coastal
peoples. T h e y are especially w ell known in the Zambesi area. T h e
C hikunda people, fo r instance, are known as excellent watermen
along th e Zam besi from its m outh to Feira, and their boat songs
are excellently designed to accom pany the rhythm o f their paddling:
T h e outside hand holds the paddle shaft below the bulwarks and
over the side. T h e shaft is then tapped on the boatside during the stroke
and again as it is being withdrawn from the water. Then there is a
pause before the new stroke. T h e rhythm is one of four beats, thus
instroke, tap, tap, silent, in, tap, tap, silent. This gives the effect of
triple time, and so a cross rhythm results when combined with the
singing. T h e speed o f stroke varies between 40 and 44 to the minute.3
T h e songs are usually sung b y a soloist, often encouraged by
shouts from his companions, w hile the chorus comes in with
meaningless words like aye, oyo, ndende. Sometimes they are sung
antiphonally, one side o f paddles answered by the other.3 T h e
1 Data taken from field notes made in 1961.
* S. R. Denny, Some Zambesi Boat Songs, Nada 14, 1936-7, pp. 35-6.
Denny quotes thirty-eight songs, in some cases including the music.
1 Kidney 1921, p. 119.

Special Purpose Poetry W ar, Hunting, and Work

235

actual words are sim ple, and the attraction o f the songs seems to
lie in the m usic and the rhythm that accompany the steady stroke
o f the paddle. T h e re is also some interest in the subject-matter,
which, however sketchy, distracts from the labour o f the moment:
Let the hom sound I
Sound the trumpet;
Yes, let it sound.1
T h is is a song about drinking: the beer is finished, so now let us
dance, to drums and horns. O r again:
Leave the drum, leave the drum.
Leave the dance. .
I wear clothes
Because I am clever.*
T h e background to the third song is said to be a husbands asking
his w ife where she had got extra clothes beyond what he himself
had given her. S h e replies with this song repeated over and over
b y the paddlers. T h e next song is also about love, the song o f the
cunning D on Juan w ho has only to look at a woman and speak for
her to come b u t he never marries properly and is always in
trouble with the parents:
I have married a wife with my eyes,
T h e dowry wa3 my mouth, ye ye;
I have married with my eyes.*
M an y o f the other songs too are about everyday matters love and
marriage, leaving and returning home, dancing, eating, fam ily life.
A b ou t the only one that refers to the river at all is about the
hippopotamus (poetically called a rhinoceros), which is a favourite
dish d on g the river:
O rhinoceros, O man rhinoceros,
Rhinoceros o f the river banks
Is good to eat with tomatoes.4
T h e same type o f subject-matter also occurs in songs by some
o f the Congo river boatmen. T h e M abale paddle songs recorded
b y Tanghe* are m ore often about local events, death, the ancestors,
1 Denny, op. cit., p. 41.
* Ibid., pp. 43, 38.
> Ibid., p. 38.
* Ibid., p. 43.
> J. Tanghe, Chansons de pagayeurs', B S O S 4, 1926/8.

z$6

Poetry

or the local chief than about the monotonous and protracted labour
o f propelling the canoes. T h e rhythm o f the paddles provides the
framework o f the song. T h e binary' measure in the song matches
the twofold structure o f the paddle strokes first a strong beat
corresponding to the tension o f the m uscles and sweep o f the
paddles, further marked b y the beat o f an accompanying gong
or drum; and secondly a relatively feeble beat while the paddles
rest. These paddle songs are sometimes b y a soloist echoed b y a
chorus but, unlike the Chikunda examples, they are more often
sung by the w hole crew, preceded and accompanied b y the beat
of a drum. Consonant with this pattern the words are short and
simple in the extreme. T h e song
Ekouloulou, qui rames incessamment;
Ekouloulou, qui rames incessamment;
Ekouloulou, qui rames incessamment. . .
(Ekululu jaboluka ntek . . .)
repeated over and over in unison is one o f the few to refer to the
actual work the crew compare themselves to the little ekululu
fish that is always swimming.1 Even sim pler are the words which
alternate between solo and chorus:
Solo. Lesherbes
Solo. Lesherbes

Chorus. Oye
Chorus. Oye.1

or:
Solo. Chef, o,
Chef, e,
Ventre, e,
Fusil, e,
Malle, e,
Sel, e . . . .

Chorus. Waza uiaza

Waza waza
W azawaza
Waza waza
Waza waza
Waza waza. . . ,3

T h e structure is also simple, and, like m any such songs, depends

fundamentally on various types o f repetition: repetition o f the
same formula (with or without a pause); repetition with a slight
variation the second time through; and alternation and repetition
o f two different phrases, sometimes with variation. T h ey are sung
in a slow, monotonous, and plaintive way, repeated over and over
in uniform and regular measure, with the low and constant accom
paniment o f gong or drum in the background. Each song is brought
Tonghe, op. cit., pp. 830,832.

1 Ibid., pp. 830,836.

1 Ibid., p. 830.

S p ecia l Purpose Poetry W ar, H unting , and W ork

237

to an end b y a long-drawn-out final note, followed b y a long low

note, not really part of the song itself.
W hile most of these M abalc paddle songs arc sung in unison,
occasionally led by one o f the paddlcrs, there is also sometimes
a specialist singer. This is a young man with a reputation for both
his voice and his repertoire o f songs who comes specially to sing
and is exem pt from paddling. H e may sing in alternation with
chorus, but sometimes performs freely on his own, a situation
w hich is held to lead to the best songs o f all. Y e t even here, it
seems, the words themselves arc relatively unimportant. W hat
matters is the regular repetition that stimulates and eases the
effort o f paddling:
Helas, mon enfant;

Helas, je le pleure;

Helas, avec douleur;

Saurais-jc loublicr, hdlas.1
Helas, mere;
Illlas, mere;

Un homme est tombe;

Un homme est mort. . . .*

T h e occasions mentioned so far all involve rhythm ic work by

a group o f people in co-operation. B ut there are also solitary work
songs. G rinding corn, for instance, though sometimes done by
several women, is also often performed by one woman alone. T h is
is a situation that gives scope to the expression o f more personal
feelings, uttered at greater length, than in the group songs. T h u s
a K am ba womans grinding song is concerned w ith her own ex
periences. She was married to a man employed at a Germ an L eip
zig M ission Station, a place w ith large whitewashed buildings
w hich she compares to the hills. She had once said she never wished
to set foot in a mission station, but even so she has now left her
parents and come to live here at the masters (missionarys) place:
Let me b e! Let me grind my Hour in peace and recover from my grief I
You tell me that I have now neither people nor mother.
Although I once said that I would never come to these hills,
Yet I have come here to build my hut at the masters (place).
These high hills, they shine like the seeds of the kivuti3tree, or like coins.
I am tending my fathers roaming bull.4
> T w o soloists. Ibid., pp. 831, 838.
1 Large red seeds with black spots.
8151SH

1 One soloist. Ibid., p. 830.

4 Lindblom iii, 1934, pp. 48-9.
R

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Poetry

A similar personal comment is evident in a Sotho dom estic song,

the lament o f a woman whose man is away:
Far, far away at Molelle's place,
Where is the train going?
He has been away at the mines too long.
I, poor child, always say that.
I have lost my relatives
And have no one to tell me what to do.1
T h e various types o f work songs can be seen to shade into songs
for dancing, for in each case the singing accompanies rhythmic
movement. T h e difference, obviously, is that dance movements are
not regarded as monotonous or laborious. But even so there is
some overlap between the two, w ith 'work songs also functioning
as, or following the pattern of, dance songs. T h u s the Swahili
truck-pushing song quoted above has all the characteristics o f an
up-country ngoma (dance) song.2 Som e tasks, furthermore, are
carried out in a half-dancing manner, so that, as w ith the Lim ba
threshing songs, the work becomes attractive and artistic rather
than m erely laborious, and the song a background to a kind o f
dance as w ell as to labour.
T h is discussion o f work songs has already involved som e men
tion o f their style. Since they typically accompany collective
rhythmical movement, it is not surprising that a common form is
that o f leader and chorus. T h e chorus words tend to be particularly
simple, often meaningless iyo, a y o ,y ey e, etc. or involve repeti
tion from the solo part. T h e soloist has more scope to develop or
improvise his words, particularly when, as sometimes happens, he
is not expected to take part in the work directly but can concentrate
on his singing (and on the musical accompaniment or even dancing
that he is also at times responsible for). B ut even so, the wording of
these songs is usually simple. T yp ica lly the leader only sings a
line or two o f hisow n before his words are taken up b y the chorused
refrain brought in by the rhythm o f the work, and there is little
opportunity for elaboration o f the verbal content. T h e structure
o f a Southern Rhodesian work song recorded by T ra cey is charac
teristic in this respect. T h e poetry o f the words results in a care
fully balanced piece o f verse, but the words themselves have little
significance:
1 A fr. Music 3. 3 , 1959, P* 76.

* Werner *927, p. 102.

Special Purpose Poetry War, Hunting, and Work 239

Chorus. Herendc hi ho hi haiwa, hiho gore we hi haiwa (no meaning)
Soto.
The girls have got their dancing beads on(i.e. this is ajoyfhl
occasion)
Chorus. Y e wo ye (oh, yesl), theyve got their dancing beads on.. . .*
It is the rhythm and the melody, not the words, that are the
most striking aspects o f these songs. T h e rhythm o f the work
provides the fixed framework within which the song must be
developed, a fram ework which is likely to continue for a long
period o f time during w hich the song (and the work) is repeated
again and again. T h e importance o f the rhythmical aspect is
brought out further b y the cases which are beyond our scope
here where complicated percussion is the main element o f
interest in accompanying the work. This sometimes takes pre
cedence over or even altogether replaces the words, and may be by
drums, hammers, or even the regular sequence o f blows used by
shipworkers in Dar-es-Salaam as they hammer the rust off the
steel sides o f the ships producing a pleasant effect which no
doubt assists them in th e performance o f their monotonous task.*
In the songs the w ords are punctuated and framed b y rhythmical
effort b y hauling at the net in Ewe fishing songs, strokes o f the
hoe or flail in Lim ba farm ing songs, paddle strokes in canoe songs.
I t is this that provides their main structure and conditions their
style.
W ork songs stand out from others in their directly functional
relationship to the activity they accompany. Occasionally they
appear as a separate art form for sophisticated audiences,1 but
normally they are inextricably involved with the work itself. T h is
is particularly true o f songs accompanying collective work. T h e
joint singing co-ordinates the action and leads the workers to feel
and work as part o f a co-operating group, not as separate indi
viduals. Such co-operation may be essential to the jo b in hand
(e.g. in hauling, paddling, and other tasks which depend on exact
join t timing), but even where this is not essential, as in hoeing or
road work, the rhythm o f the song still encourages collaboration
and control within the group, a pressure on all to take part equally
within the given rhythm ic framework. T h e function o f rhythmical
music in encouraging people to work harder, faster, and with more
1 Tracey 1929, p. 100.
1 Tracey in Apr. Music 1. 4, 1957, p. 82.
* e.g.the Ganda paddle songs performed at court (J. Roscoe, The Baganda,
London, 1911 >P - 37 ).

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Poetry

enjoyment has frequently been noted. W o rk songs can also com

ment on life in general, on local events, or on local characters, and
can express ideas of love, friendship, or even obscenity.1 In short,
work songs lighten the labour and give an opportunity, however
limited, for poetic and musical expression in the midst o f work.2
Such songs seem to occur throughout Africa. T h eir detailed
words and form, however, have not been extensively recorded b y
either linguists or sociologists who have tended to leave this field to
musicologists.1 However, it may be that the same characteristics
which have led to this partial neglect their relatively slight verbal
element, their close association with work, and their musical
quality are precisely those which encourage the continuing de
velopment o f such songs so that they fit new as well as older types
o f work. T h is kind o f song, probably unlike military and hunting
poems, is likely to remain a continuing source for the student o f
oral literature.
1 A point made in connection with work songs in E. E. Evans-Pritchard,
Some Collective Expressions of Obscenity in Africa, J R A I 59, 1929.
1 For a further general discussion of work songs, see T . C. Brakeley, Work
Song, in M . Leach (ed.), Standard Dictionary o f Folklore, Mythology and Legend,
New York, 1949. Also A. M . Jones i, 1959, pp. 39 ff. (Ewe) and C. B. Wilson,
Work Songt o f the Fante Fisherman, unpub. thesis for Diploma in African
Music, Institute of African Studies, Legon, University of Ghana (not seen;
reported in Institute o f Afr. Studies, Legon, Research Remcto 2. 3, 1966, p. 77).
1 Musicologists have made many, recordings o f such songs, particularly in
Central Africa; the words, however, are often not published with these record
ings.

LYRIC
Occasions. Subject-m atter. Form . Com position

IN the sense o f a short poem which is sung, lyric is probably the

m ost common form o f poetry in subsaharan Africa. It is not always
recognized that these songs, in which the musical element is o f
such obvious importance, arc in fact poems. It is true that the
verbal aspect sometimes appears less developed than in the
lengthy poems which arc delivered in spoken or recitative style,
like some of the praise poems, hymns, or hunting chants that
have already been described. But this should not prevent us
from calling them poems. W c should remember that classical Greek
or Elizabethan lyrics were equally designed to be sung. Indeed, in its
original form of a poem in a musical setting, lyric is one o f the
most important kinds of African oral literature.
So far, with a few exceptions,1 the poetry w e have considered
has mainly been associated with relatively formal events. T h e lyric
songs discussed here are for more informal occasions. W hereas much
other poetry depends on a specialist and even esoteric tradition, these
involve popular participation. T h e verbal content o f these songs
tends to be short (though the actual performance m ay be lengthy)
and is often ephemeral. T h ere is usually plenty o f improvisation. U n
like the general pattern o f W estern European folk-songs, the indivi
dual singer does not tend to stand out in a dominant position as
against a passive audience,2 but instead interacts with a chorus. Y et
these lyric songs still provide wide scope for individual expression.
I
Songs appear in an almost unlimited number o f contexts. In
w ords that might be applied more widely than to the Ibo o f whom
he was writing, Osadebay speaks of the wealth o f culture and fine
1 In particular the work songs, which could well have been treated under the
present heading.
* See A. Lomax, Song Structure and Social Structure', Ethnology i, 1962
on the general contrasts in this respect between Africa, Europe, the Orient, etc.

242

Poetry

feelings w hich find expression in our m usic and poetry. W e sing

when w e fight, we sing when w e work, w e sing when w e love, w e
sing when w e hate, we sing when a child is born, we sing when
death takes a toH .'
Rites de passage are very common occasions for singing. T h ere
are songs associated with birth, w ith initiation and puberty,
betrothal, marriage, acquiring a new title or status, and funeral
and memorial celebrations. T h e m ost serious o f these songs, in
which the verbal element is elaborated at length, cannot be called
lyrical. B ut often such ceremonies are in fact more an occasion
for festivity, which includes song, than a solemn ritual with
specially designated music, and the gatherings normal at these
times are a reason for singing for its own sake.
W eddings, for example, are popular occasions for comm ent in
song b y no means always involving praise o f the new ly wedded
pair:
Serpent que tu es!
Chien que tu es!
T u fais: oua-ouaf*
sing the brides friends about her husband among the Ronga, amid a
series o f songs cheerfully warning her o f the ill-treatment she will
without doubt receive at the hands o f his parents. In more reflective
and personal style is the Ganda song o f farewell by the young girl
about to be married, with the repetitions typical o f this form :
Oh, I am gone,
Oh, I am gone,
Call my father that I may say farewell to him,
Oh, I am gone.
Father has already sold me,
Mother has received a high price for me,
Oh, I am gone.5
It is likely that advantage w ill be taken o f this opportunity to sing
songs on m any other topics.
M an y o f these songs are for dancing. A particular song type is
sometimes inextricably tied up w ith a particular dance. T h u s the
i Osadebay 1949, p. 154.
1 Junod 1897, p. 46.
> Sempebwa 1948, p. 18. For other examples of marriage songs see e.g.
Beaton 1935 (Bari); W . Leslau, 'Chansons harari, R a tt. itu d i etio p . 6, 1947;
F. Dufays, Lied und Gcsang bei Brautwerbung und Hochzeit in MuleraRuonda , A n tk ro p o s 4. 1909-

Lyric

243

Swahili used to have a special gtmgu song for the 'pounding figure*
o f the dance:

Give me a chair that may ait down and hold (the guitar)
Let me sing a serenade for my Palm-daughter
Let me sing for my wife
She who takes away my grief and sorrow.1
T h is occasion fo r song is, if anything, increasing, and many
examples could be quoted like the Zulu 'town dancing songs'
quoted by Tracey, w here the words are subordinate to the dance:
This is the girl that jilted me,
The wretch of a girl that jilted me.
At Durban, the dance leaders are afraid of us!2
Zululand, my home, I love you.
Goodbye, Willie I like you too.
We are the boys.3
T h e same kind o f m ood, o f recreation and light-hearted enjoyment,
is evident in many o f the 'drinking songs. These too, for ail their
lightness, may express the thought in true lyric manner, with
econom y and grace. In a Shona drinking song, the original is only
seven words in all:
Keep it dark!
Dont tell your wife,
For your wife is a log
That is smouldering surely!
Keep it darkl4
Th ere are sometimes more formalized occasions for the singing
o f lyrics. One could mention the recent interest in the short balwo
1 Knappert 1966, p. 130. Cf. Stccrc 1906, p. 473.
* i.e. a boast by the (Johannesburg) dancers that no one can dance better than
they their reputation has even reached Durban! Tracey 19486, p. 61.
* Ibid., p. 66. Nearly all collections o f poems include some dance songs. See
also L . Stappers, Vijftig motieven uit de dansliederen van de Baamilembwe,
Kongo-Oversee 20, 1954; E. Emsheimer, Drei TanzgesBnge der Akamba,
Etfmot 2, 1937 (not seen); A. C. Beaton, Fur Dance Songs, Sudan Notes 23,
1940; idem., 'The Poetry of the Bari Dance , ibid. 21, 1938; E. v. Funke,
'Einige Tanz- und Liebcslieder der Haussa, Z E S n , 1920/r; J. P. Clark,
Poetry of the Urhobo Dance Udje*, Nigeria Magazine 87, 1965; M . Traor6,
Une danse curieuse: le moribayosa, Notes Afr. 15, 1942; E. Littmann,
Amharische Tonzlieder der Gaila, Z . f . Semitistik 4,1926; J. Vansina, Lkim ,
gesongen kwaadsprekcrij bij de Bushong, Aequatoria 28, 1955; ] H. Nketia,
Possession Dances in African Societies^, Internal. Folk Music J , 9, 1957;
also the references given in Ch. 10, pp. 276-7.
* Tracey >933, no. 9.

244

Poetry

lyric1 among the Somali. Special btdtoo parties became fashionable

in the towns. People would recite the lyrics they knew or compose
new ones, and the recitations would be interrupted for tea and
conversation.2 Popular and occasional bands among the Akan also
sometimes perform on specifically recreational occasions.2 A gain,
in many areas the radio nowadays frequently crontes opportunities
for lyrics to be performed.
All over the continent it is a common pattern for stories to be
interrupted from time to time by a song, usually led by the story
teller, while the audience act as his chorus.4 Sometimes these
songs amount to quite long poems, and are then often in recitative.
Short verses are also very common, sometimes with many non
sense syllables to fill in the rhythm and tune, with repetition over
and over again between leader and chorus. O ne Lim ba story, about
The clever cat, has a verse o f this kin d:
The story is about a cat who proposes to initiate the young rat
maidens into the bondo (womens society). They, like all young girls,
are eager to enter but the cats one desire is to have a chance of eating
them! The cat pretends to act in the usual way of a bondo senior woman.
She lines them all up and leads the singing, telling them not to look
round. She sings:
When we go,
Let no one look behind ohl
When the cat is free,/o/ey.
The chorus of young rats take up the same words:
When we go,
Let no one look behind oh!
When the cat is free,/ fetj
in the way young initiates do in real life. The rhythmic and melodic
song is repeated in the story perhaps eight or ten times, first by the cat
(the narrator), then by the rat initiates (the audience) who have quickly
picked up the tune. But while the singing is going on, what the cat is
really doing is to quietly pick off the rats one by one as they sing with
their backs to her. A t last only one is left, still singing the song. Just in
time, she looks round, and throws herself out of the way and escapes.2
A story like this appeals to its audience partly because o f the
amusing form o f words and the parody o f the usually very serious
1 On which see below, pp. 254 ff.
2 Andrzejewski 1967, p. 11.
2 Nketia 1962, pp. 16-17; 19636, chap. 6.
On the function of songs in stories see Ch. 13, pp. 385. Also Belinga 1965,
pp. 55 ff.
5 Full story is given in Finnegan 1967, pp. 333-4.

L yric

245

initiation ceremony, but perhaps most o f all because o f the attrac

tive song which, in terms o f'th e time spent repeating it over and
over, took up as long as the prose narrative. Sim ple as the words
w ere in themselves, the audience all joined in enthusiastically, over
lapping slightly with the leaders last note and h alf dancing as they
san g ; they would, it seem ed, have continued indefinitely had not the
leader finally broken into their response to continue his narration.
T h e same song is sometimes repeated at different points in the
story, a kind of signature tunc with slight variations on the words
to fit the development o f the plot. T h e structure o f the story is
thus marked by the recurrence o f the song in each new episode.
A nother Lim ba example can make this plain:
T h e plot is the intentionally fantastic and humorous one of the hero
Sara and his endeavours to kill and eat a guinea-fowl he had caught
without sharing it with any of his friends. But the bird is a magical one
and the more Sara tries to kill and cat it, going through all the usual
preparations and cooking procedures, the more it sings back at him.
At last he cats it but even in his stomach the bird sings and demands
to be excreted; and in the final effort, Sara dies.
Each of the many parallel stages of the plot is marked by the
same song, with variations to suit the event, the last phrase and
response being repeated several times by narrator and audience
w ith the same tune throughout. First, the guinea-fowl is discovered
in the snare, and it sings:
Sara is coming to loose me,
Sara is coming to loose me.
Here he found a path, a night passed,
Here he came and put a snare for me,
The guinea-fowl,
The guinea-fowl,
Ko de ba ko naligbe1
What is your name ?
What is your name ?
(Response) Tambarenke, Tambarenke.
What is your name ?
Tambarenke, Tambarenke.
What is your name ?
Tambarenke, Tambarenke . . ., etc.
1 Apparently nonsense words.

246

Poetry

Sara looses the bird from the noose, and brings it home to prepare
for eating. Again the bird sings:
Sara is coming to pluck me,
Sara is coming to pluck me.
Here he found a path, a night passed,
Here he came and put a snare for me,
T h e guinea-fowl,
T h e guinea-fowl,
K o de ba ko nagligbe
What is your name?
What is your name ?
Tambarenke, Tambarenke.
What is your name?
Tambarenke, Tambarenke. . . .
A s the story continues, new first lines appear:
Sara
Sara
Sara
Sara
Sara
Sara
Sara

is coming to cut me up . . .
is coming to pound me .
is coming to mould me . . .
is coming to put me in (to the pot). . .
is coming to take me o u t . . .
is coming to eat me . . .
is going to lie down. . . .

A nd, finally,
Sara is going to excrete m e . . . .2
T h e linguistic content o f songs in Lim ba stories, as in some
others, is relatively limited, and for the audience their main
interest lies in the rhythm and m elody and the fact that they can
participate in the singing. In some other cases, however, such as
some A kan stories, the words are m ore developed. T h e following
is a variation on a very common them e:
Elephant and Antelope are said to have made very good friends in the
forest. Elephant being the stronger and wealthier of the two was able
to lay. on sumptuous meals every day to which he invited Antelope. One
day he expressed the desire to visit Antelope in his house. This em
barrassed Antelope for he also wanted to give him a good meal. It
occurred to him after failing to get any'meat that Mother Antelope was
1 Meat is often pounded in a mortar, then moulded into balls.
* Full story in Finnegan 1967. PP- 284-6.

Lyric

247

the answer, so he caused her to be killed and used. When Elephant

arrived he was greatly surprised by the dedidous meal and asked to see
Mother Antelope. But Antelope succeeded in putting this off. After the
meal however, Elephant again asked for Mother Antelope and Antelope
replied in a song as follows:
Elephant, please dont worry me.
Have you ever seen a poor man
And a wealthy man exchange things equally?
Elephant Akwaa Brenkoto that commands his destiny,
Elephant that plucks the tops of trees on his right,
King of musketry, father and king,
Birefi Akuampon, mighty oneto whom all stray goods aresent to be used.
Yes; let us proceed,
Mother Antelope, I have stewed her.
Yes, let us proceed.
Mother Antelope, I have used her to redeem myself.
Yes, let us proceed.1

II
T h e subjects o f the m any different songs sung on these various
occasions include just about every topic imaginable. Th ere are
songs about wives, husbands, marriage, animals, chiefs, this years
tax, the latest football match, a recent intrigue, the plight o f a
cripple dependent on his family, an amusing incident, a M ends
treachery or an enemys vices, the relationship between variety in
the human and the natural world and so on according to the
genre o f song involved, the context o f performance, and the poetic
inspiration o f the singer.
It has frequently been remarked that African poems about
nature are few and far between, and there is truth in this assertion.
Certainly there seems to be little in common between most African
lyrics and the romantic interest in Nature typical o f certain
epochs o f the English poetic tradition, and lyrics about people,
events, and personal experience are more common. B ut observa
tion o f the natural world, especially the animal world is often
significant. T ake the simple little song about a brook recorded in
M alawi in the nineteenth century. T h e effect is an imitation o f the
sound o f the brook and it is sung 'softly and soothingly in a sub
dued voice; the main point is to reflect the time o f the water,
1 Nketia 19586, p. 19.

248

Poetry

rather than describe in words, though a picture is given o f the

bank o f the little stream (c/ako) and the prickly bush that grows b y
it (tikwanya):
1st voice.
Response.
s

Likwanya likunyanya h i chiko.

Any anyale.
u

t a n e o u s l y !
( 2nd voice. Anya-nya-vya-le e.

* M k

Then the two voices interchange the lines twice, with the final
response:
Anyanyale.1
Again, w e could mention the case o f Som ali poetry w hich is
imbued with a consciousness o f the beauties and cruelties o f
nature .2 For instance, the simple lyric O Distant Lightning!
Have you deceived me ?* gains its emotive tone from the inspiration
of rain and its life-giving and beautiful results. Lightning often
presages ru n , and this symbolizes hope. B ut sometimes the hope
is disappointed and the rain-clouds move away. So here the poet
is writing o f love, but calls the girl 'D istant Lightning, expressing
his disappointment in love in terms o f natural forces.
Songs associated with birds are very common.2 Sometimes the
song is envisaged as sung by the bird itself, and at least part is
then in onomatopoeic representation o f the call. W e could instance
the many lyrics supposed to be sung and exchanged by birds
among the Beti o f the Cameroons. T h e ngiai afan (genderme
silvatique) sings of the insecurity o f life:
Point de sdcuritd en foret. (Mvid c se a fie.
Point de sdcuritd en foret. Mvid a se fie.)4
T h e female kolvodo ban nga (magpie) in one o f her songs praises
the virtues o f work:
Va au travail.
Va au travail.
Si tu entends dire:
C est une fille dhomme
C est grace au travail.

(Kel* esid o.
K el esid 0.
. O wog na:
Ng6n mot
H esid.

* Macdonald i, 1882, p. 49.

* Andrzejewski 1967, P- 9 * e.g. Pokomo (A. Werner in Africa 1, 1928, p. 253); Lamba (Doke 1934,
pp. 365-6); Cameroun(Belinga 1965, pp. 28 ff.); Lango(Okot 1963, pp. 157 ff.):
Nkundo (Boelaert 1949, p. 5); Limba (Finnegan field notes); and the instances
mentioned below.
4 Anya-Noa 1965, p. 129.

L yric
Si tu entends dire:
'C'est une fille d^homme
C est grace au travail.
Le pays serait-il genlreux,
Ne sois pas qu&nandeur.
Le pays serait-il gdn reux,
Nc sois pas quemandeur.

249
O wog na:
Ngon mot'
Hesid.
Nnam akab,
T e bo zaq.
Nnam akab,
T e bo zaq.)1

T h e Zulu songs attributed to birds attempt to represent something

o f the nature and appearance o f the bird as well as its cry and
cast a sly glance at hum anity too. T h e bird called uthektoane
(hammerkop or heron) is pictured strolling gracefully by the
waterside, with his fine-looking crest and shapely thighs sym
bolizing vanity:
I myself, have often said: Thehwarte! You, with your crest, your
leisurely strolling when frequenting the spring, at the time it has been
opened up mark you as a very fine fellow. You have large thighs.1
Other Zulu bird songs involve interchange between the hen and
the cock, the male in deep bass, the hen higher. T h e song o f the
insingizi (hornbill or turkey-buzzard) is.re ally a comment on
married life, particularly the last line o f the cocks exhausted
rejoinder to his wifes constant nagging:
Hen.
Cock.
Hen.
Cock.
Hen.
Cock.
Hen.
Cock.
Hen.
Cock.

Where, where is (the) meat? Where, where is (the) meat?

Theres none, its up in the trees above (bis)
Where, where are the worms ? (bis)
There are none, there are no worms (bis)
Are there none, are there none over there? (bis)
Oh! get away with you! Where will I get them from ? (bis)
Look for them, look for them over there (bis)
There are none, there are none over there (bis)
I am going, am going, I am going home to my people (bis)
Go, go, you have long since said so (bis).3

M ost elaborate o f all is the song o f self-assertion attributed to the

iqola, the fiscal shrike. In it the cock utters his proverbial cries of
Goshi! Goshi! Dads! D adiP , cries which are supposed to describe
the sounds made by the movements o f his wings and feet as well
as the ejaculations he utters as part of his great display. H e is
pictured as turning his head to the right, then to the left, surveying
him self in self-admiration. H is cry really amounts to saying I am
1 Ibid., pp. 124-5.

1 Dunning 1946, p. 44.

1 Ibid., p. 33.

25

Poetry

the personification o f everything that is Majestic and Powerful

and m y ornaments jingle and rattle in perfect rhythm . H e sings:
Goshi! Goshi! Dadi! Dadi!
Who do I kill (stab)? Who do I kill? Who do I lull?
I kill the relations o f these (indicating his victims) outright! outright!
I kill the relations of these outright I outright!
I kill the relations o f these outright! outright!
Sanxokwe, Sanxokwe (addressing her Majesty)
I ll pay your bridewealth (lobola) with a red beast
Ill pay your bridewealth with a red beast
I ll pay your bridewealth with a red beast.
W hen men drink beer, they become intoxicated,
They take up their sticks
And they (the sticks) clashing together sound xakaxaka, xakaxaka,
xakaxaka.
I have been across the Umdawane1
Where I ate up the big dance.1
I caught a small bird,>I fixed it on the end of a slender twig very early
this morning.
I repeated this by catching a Fantail Warbler early this morning
And fixed it on the end of a slender twig.
I drank the blood of a bird early this morning.
I struck its little stomach, it became red with blood at that very
moment.
Because I am the King of Birds.
Goshi! Goshi! Dadi! Dadi!
Bayede! Bayedei (Salute me royally) Khsdeka! Khuleka! (Make
obeisance to me) Nhosi! Nkosi! [Address me as] King!3
Finally, in a rather different style, is the brief but pathetic Nyanja
song o f the unloved night-jar:
Moon, you must shine, shine that I may eat the tadpoles;
I sit on a stone, and my bones all rattle.
I f it were not for my big mouth,
T h e maidens would be crying for me.4
Songs about, or attributed to, animals seem to be less common
than those associated w ith birds. B u t some certainly exist, p a rtia l>A fabulous river.
2 i.e. won all the prizes.
* Dunning 1946, pp. 45-6. T he line division is not quite clear in the text and
I may have interpreted it. incorrectly in places.
4 Rattray 1907, p. 164.

Lyric

251

larly in South and Central Africa. T h e brief Hottentot song about

a baboon gives a vivid little picture o f his typical occupation:
There, Ive got you, Ive got you, Ive got y o u . . .
Crack, crack, what a louse . . .
It bit me, what a louse . . .
Crack, crack, what a louse . . .
It bit me, what a louse . . . '
and is cast in the typical form o f a sung lyric, with plenty o f scope
for repetition and, apparently, for chorus responses. Among the
South African Bantu the tradition o f praising seems still strong,
and recent praises (although strictly o f a different order from the
songs quoted in this chapter) arc much more simple and lyrical
in concept than the lengthy and grandiose praises of traditional
culture. T h u s H urutshe men describe a hare:
Ga-re-ya-gaa-koo !z
Son o f the little dark brown one with spots,
Little yellow one, leaper from the stubbles,
Yonder is the son of the little dark brown one
Leaper from the treeless plain
Leaper from the trunks of trees;
It leaps up, and stretches its tail
And it places its ears on its shoulders
Ga-re-ya-gaa-koo!*
Am ong pastoral peoples, songs are often composed and sung in
praise o f individual beasts. Cattle come to mean far more to their
owners than mere economic sustenance, and are accepted as
emotional and evocative topics for deeply felt expression. T h is
can be seen in the songs collected b y recent investigators from the
Nilotic cattle-keeping people, and also from a Dinka song pub
lished early in the century. T h e individual singer typically praises
his own bull in an outpouring o f personal pride:
M y Bull is as white as the silvery fish in the river; as white as the
egret on the river bank; as white as new milk.
His bellowing is like the roar of the Turks cannon from the great
river.
1 Stopa, 1938, p. i o i .
* The shout given when the hare jumps up from its lair.
* Merwe 1941, pp. 328-9. Animal songs also occur in Central Africa (Lamba)
where they bear some resemblance to Southern Bantu praises (Doke 1934,
p. 365).

22

Poetry

M y bull is as dark as the rain-cloud, that comes with the storm.

He is like Summer and Winter; half of him dark as the thunder
cloud; half of him as white as sunshine.
His hump shines like the morning star.
His forehead is as red as the arums [hornbill] wattles.
His forehead is like a banner; seen by the people from afar.
He is like the rainbow.
I shall water him at the river, and drive
M y enemies from the water with my spear.
Let them water their cattle at the well;
The river for me and my bull.
Drink,
Bull, of the river. Am I not here with
M y spear to protect you ?

But songs describing animals, or even birds, are apparently far

less common than those in which the main interest is human life.
In fact this can be seen even in many o f the songs ostensibly about
birds, for the bite of the comment is often its veiled relevance for
human action, character, aspiration, or absurdity. There are lyrics
about every facet o f human activity. L ove and marriage are
probably the commonest themes, and the remainder of this section
will illustrate some o f these songs.
Marriage is a topic that can be treated many different ways.
Not only its attractions are indicated in song, but also its difficul
ties or absurdities. T h u s one of the Ganda songs connected w ith
marriage lightly warns young suitors:
When he sees a pretty girl he falls for her,
I will go with you, let us go.
Not knowing that he is going with a girl with a fiery temper.2
Among the Shi of the Eastern Congo, again, marital relation
ships are the most common single subject in songs, many o f them
concerned with marital and pre-marital strife. One of the popular
forms is a song describing a girl's rejection of her suitor because
she thinks him too poor:
You want to marry me, but what can you give me? A nice field?
No, I have only a house.
'What? You have nothing but a house? How would we live? G o to
Bukavu; there you can earn plenty o f money. You can buy food
and other things.

1 S. L . Cummins, 'Sub-tribes of the Bahr-el-Ghazal Dinkas , J R A I 34,

1904, p. 162.
2 Sempebwa 1948, p. 17.

L y ric

253

No, I wont go. I don't know the people there. I have always lived
here, and I know the people and want to stay here.
You are a stupid man. You want me to marry me but you have
nothing. I f you dont go to Bukavu and earn money to buy me
things then I wont marry you.1
A different point o f view is expressed in one o f the many Chopi
songs on this subject. H ere the girl is pictured as sad and solitary
w ithout her husband; like so many others he has gone o ff many
hundreds o f miles to work in the mines. A nd y e t there is something
in common a comment on a womans dem and for material
possessions:
I am most distressed,
I am most distressed as my man has gone off to work,
And he does not give me clothes to wear,
Not even black cloth.*
T h e number o f love songs recorded is surprising at least to
those brought up to the idea that the concept o f personal love is
bound to be lacking in A frican cultures. E ven the idea o f courtly
and romantic love is not always absent. It seems, for instance, to
occur to some extent am ong the Hausa, whose rich tradition o f
love poetry is now influencing surrounding people.1*3 Fletcher
quotes a simple Hausa song o f love, T o Dakabo, a m aiden':
Dakabo is tin!
Dakabo is copper!
Dakabo is silver!
Dakabo is gold!
Where greatness is a fortune
The thing desired is (obtained only) with time.
Thy things are my things,
M y things are thy things,
Thy mother is my mother,
M y mother is thy mother,
Th y father is my father,
M y father is thy father!
Be patient,
maid!
Be patient, young maiden!4

1 A. P. Merriam, Song Texts of the Bashi, Afr. M usic 1. 1, 1954, p. 45.

* Tracey 1948a, p. 46.
3 C f. Mayssal 1965, p. 8r, on Hausa influence on the Catneroons Fulani.
4 Fletcher 1912, p. 6$.
81MS11
s

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Poetry

T h e Som ali baltoo (later called heello) are even more striking
examples o f romantic and emotional love poetry.1 T h ese are short
lyric love poems which have become popular recently and are
particularly associated w ith the new urban generation. T h e balwo
is characterized b y extreme brevity it usually consists o f only
tw o lines and a condensed and cryptic imagery expressed in
miniature form . It is sung to a distinct tune w ith syncopated
rhythm s, b u t there are relatively few o f these tunes and thousands
o f different poems. Th ere are two, related, themes in these lyrics:
first, those addressed to a beloved woman, in hope o f marriage;
and secondly those to a w om an admired from afar off, even one
seen only once whom the poet can have little hope o f seeing again.
T h is them e o f romantic and frustrated love gives rise, it seems, to
genuine and deeply felt em otion, expressed in a condensed and
sym bolic form arising from one central image:
Woman, lovely as lightning at dawn,
Speak to me even once.
I long for you, as one
Whose dhow in summer winds
Is blown adrift and lost,
Longs for land, and finds
Again the compass tells
A grey and empty sea.*
I f I say to myself 'Conceal your love!
Who will conceal my tears ?
Like a tall tree which, fallen, was set alight,
I am ashes.1
M y heart is single and cannot be divided,
And it is fastened on a single hope; Oh you who might be the moon.4
T h e romantic love poem is not just confined to the coast. T h e
N yam w ezi o f central Tanganyika around Tabora can sing:
M y love is soft and tender,
M y love Saada comforts me,
M y love has a voice like a fine instrument of music.1
1
1
*
4
*

See especially Andrzejewski 1967; also references given below.

Laurence 1954, p. 31 (and general discussion on pp. 6-12).
Andrzejewski 1967, p. 13.
Andrzejewski and Lewis 1964, p. 146 (and general discussion, pp. 49-51).
Tracey 1963, p. 20.

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255

N ot all A frican love songs, however, are in the romantic, even

ecstatic vein perhaps more typical o f areas like Hausa country
or the East Coast, long influenced by Arabic culture. There
are many w ays o f describing this fertile theme. T h e Ruanyama
Am bo o f South W est Africa have a series o f brief antiphonal love
poems used in courtship, with call and response between man and
girl. Usually some analogy o f a general rather than a personal kind
is made between nature and human relationships:
Where one sees birds in their flight, there is water;
Where one hears the sound o f women's laughter, there is a kraal.
A palm stick bow does not like the rainy season (it warps);
A woman fond o f a man does not like to be among people.1
A n analogy w ith nature is also made in a very light-hearted love
song by a young Soga in East A frica:
All things in nature love one another.
The lips love the teeth,
T h e beard loves the chin.
And all the little ants go brrr-r-r-r together.*
Zulu love poetry seems often to be by women, a feature that has
parallels elsewhere in Africa. Dhlom o gives one girls song that is
both realistic and romantic:
Never shall I fall in love with a suckling.
Joy, joy, O mother, this one sleeps unrealising.
Never shall I fall in love with one who is no ladies' man.
Joy, joy,
mother, this one sleeps unrealising.
I would like to fall in love with a dashing he-man.
Joy, joy, O mother, this one sleeps unrealising.
Would love him-who-appears-and-causes-heart-aches!
-Joy, joy,
mother, this one sleeps unrealising.
Yes, I would like a whirlwind of a manl
Joy, joy, O mother, this one sleeps unrealising.3

In much m ore disillusioned vein is another Zulu love song, this

time by an older woman living in Durban, where she runs her own
small group o f singers. T h e song expresses all her despair and the
mundane yet heart-breaking aspects o f parting:
1 E. M . Loeb, 'Courtship and the Love Song*, Anthiopos 45,1950, pp. 847,
848. (The general interpretation by Loeb is, however, highly doubtful.)
* Tracey 1963, p. 20.
* Dhlomo 1947, p. 7.

256

Poetry
I thought you loved me,
Yet I am wasting my time on you.
I thought we would be parted only by death,
But to-day you have disappointed me.
You will never be anything.
You are a disgrace, worthless and unreliable.
Bring my things. I will put them in my pillow.
You take yours and put them under your armpit.
You deceived me.1

Among the L uo of Kenya, too, love songs are sung by women.

T h e final examples o f love poetry w ill be taken from their oigo
lyrics, one o f the many types o f songs in L u o country.* These are
love songs in a slightly different sense from the ones already
quoted.
T h e oigo are songs sung by young girls on their way to visit the
young men they are courting. T h e girls walk to the hut where they
are to be entertained b y the men, by the light o f the full moon.
A s they go, they sing these songs, individually or in groups, taking
it in turns to sing the whole tyay. T h ere was no formal order o f
singing; the more musically gifted girls or the more effusive took
the leading part according to their m ood.* M eanwhile the young
men are waiting, straining their ears for the first sounds o f the
song. W hen it is heard, one o f them announces to the rest, at the
top o f his voice: T h e landing has taken place, they have arrived.
T h e girls come and are welcomed with gifts. A n d then the evenings
entertainment proceeds, the men playing on reed flutes while the
girls sing their oigo songs.
These songs have their own special form . T h e tunes are simple
and rather repetitive with an insistent rhythm . T h e most striking
aspect is the singers vocal style. T h e singer trills in a bird-like
voice and conveys an impression of being possessed by the stream
o f song within her, breathless and helpless. T h e emotions ex
pressed are often sorrowful and almost hysterical, yet the singer
exults in her ability to sing endlessly like a bird.4 T h is distinctive
style comes out, even in translation, in the following poem. T h e
characteristic refrain, doree ree yot is far more repetitive and
appealing than can be represented in an English text:
1 Tracey 19486, p. 41.
I write in the present though in fact these songs are now a thing of the past.
The description is taken from Owuor 1961.
4 Ibid., p. 52.
Owuor 1961, p. 51.

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257

I am possessed,
A bird bursting on hjgh with the ree lament
I am the untiring singer.
Dear bird, lets sing in rivalry
Our doree ree yo . . . ;
It is my wayward self,
Singing in rivalry
The doree ree yo ;
I am the untiring singer
That rocks far-off Mombasa
With the aree ree yo;
It is the voice crying the doree
That rocks far-off Nakuru;
I am the compelling Ondoro drum,
The bird bursting with the doree's plaintive tones;
I am the untiring singer
Choking herself with the doree ree yo.1
Sometimes the emphasis o f the song is on the sorrow o f the singer,
or the way she is possessed b y the song.' A t other times we are
given a picture of another side o f her nature w ilful and unpre
dictable, her impulsiveness breaking through the ordinary rules
o f behaviour. T h is comes out in one song which is arranged round
the image of a family setting out, led by the favourite bull who
sym bolizes their unity. Im pulsively, the girl runs ahead to keep up
w ith the animal, in spite of the pain in her chest from her exertion:
Our bull is starting off for Holo,
The Kapiyo clan have fine cattle.
Our bull is starting off for Holo,
The Kapiyo clan have fine cattle.
Then the giggling one said,
Then the playful one said,
(How amusing)
The impulsive ree singer
Is a forest creature lamenting the pain in her chest;
The forest creature lamenting the pain in her chest,
The spirited one lamenting the pain in her chest,
The giggling ree singer
Is a forest creature lamenting the pain in her chest,
The Nyagwe Gtme lamenting the pain in her chest,
The impulsive ree singer
Is a forest creature lamenting the pain in her chest.
* Ibid., p. S3.

258

Poetry
Our
The
The
The

bull is starting off for IIolo,

Kapiyo have fine cattle;
Kadulo clan is a bull which starts off for Holo,
Kapiyo have fine cattle.1

In these songs, a special picture o f girlhood is presented. It is

one which does not necessarily correspond in all ways to the
reality, but form s a conventional part o f this particular form o f art:
She lives in a dreamland, though much tempered by the idealised role
she longs to fill in the community. . . . As with a bird, singing appears
to be the natural outpouring of the life force itself. The prestige of clan
and family depended not only on the prowess of its young men but also
on the zealous way in which its women represented its interests in song
and dance. For a group of girls the oigo was a means of announcing
their presence and of differentiating themselves from the older married
women; for an individual a way of expressing her idiosyncrasies.2
Im still complaining,
Crying the ree ree ree,
I m still complaining,
Ever tearful with the ree ree ree,
Im still complaining;
T h e redo-singers unceasing complaint,
Scion of young women
Still complaining,
Ever tearful with the ree ree ree,
Im still complaining.
I am in love with the oigo;
I cry the ree ree ree
Infatuated with the oigo;
T h e redo-singers unceasing complaint
Blasting Amixnos hearth
With constant complaining;
Ever tearful with the ree ree ree,
I'm still complaining.2
1 Owuor 1961, p. 54.
2 Ibid., p. 52.
Ibid., p. 53. Other references on love songs include Tracey 1963, pp. 19-20
(examples and general discussion); Knappert 19670 (Swahili); G. Schtlrle and
A. Klingenheben, Afriknnische Liebeslieder (Duala and Zaromo), Z K S 3,
1913/14; Chadwicksiii, 1940, pp. 668 if. (Tuareg); E. Von Funke, EinigeTanzund Liebeslieder der Haussa, Z E S 11, 1920-1; Tescaroli 1961, ch. 4 (Sudan);
E. Cerulli, 'Poesie di guerra e di amore dei Galla, Arch, antrop. e etnol. 5, 1942
(reference in I A I Bibl. (A ) by R. Jones, Nortfi-East Africa, 1959, p. 33); D.
Earthy, 'A Chopi Love-song, Africa 4, 1931. For other discussions or examples
o f lyrics see J. Vansina, La chanson lyrique chez les Kuba, Jeune Afriquc 27,

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259

in
Songs in Africa are very frequently in antiphonal form. That is,
there is response o f some kind between soloist and chorus, and the
song depends on the alternation between the two parts. T h e role
o f the soloist (or cantor) is crucial. I t is he who decides on the
song, and when it should start and end. Even more important, he
can introduce variations on the basic theme o f the song, in contrast
to the part o f the chorus which is more or less fixed. In other cases,
the soloist has complete scope to improvise his part o f the verse as
he chooses (apart perhaps from the very first line). T h is type o f
composition results in many impromptu and often ephemeral
lyrics.
W ithin the general antiphonal form, which has often been men
tioned as one o f the main characteristics o f African song, there are
several possible variations. T h is is partly a question o f who the
performers are. Sometimes, for instance, there is more than one
cantor; two or even three may interchange verses with each other
as well as with the accompanying chorus. In other special musical
types, the singers take turns in leading the singing, or two answer
each others song. But, as will appear, even in the most basic type
(one leader/one chorus) there is scope for variety and elaboration.
One o f the simplest forms, and one that seems to occur widely
in Africa, is repetition o f two phrases between soloist and chorus.
Nketia terms this pattern the call and response form and shows
how even this type o f antiphony can be elaborated in actual per
formance.1 A t its simplest level, one that occurs, for instance, in
childrens games or other action songs, there is merely a repeated
interchange between leader and group, the first singing his own
phrase (A), the chorus coming in with theirs (B).z But there are
also more complex form s:
1958; T . Tsala, Minlan mi mved (chants lyriques)', Recherches et itudes
camerountnses a, i960 (Bed); L . Longmore, 'Music and Song among the Bantu
People in Urban Areas on die Witwatersrand', Afr. music Soc. Newsletter 1. 6,
1953; and references in following sections. For written Swahili forms see
Knappert 1966, pp. 128 f., 136.
1 Nketia 1962, pp. s8 ff. I draw heavily on Nketias analysis here: though he
is working primarily on Ghanian music, his analysis has a wider application.
See also the useful article by D . Rycroft, 'Nguni Vocal Polyphony*, J . Internal.
Folk Music Council 19, 1967.
* The children's singing games quoted in Ch. 11 include some examples o f
this basic form.

i6o

Poetry

Various techniques of elaboration of the basic A-B form may be

employed. Variations in text, in melody or both may be introduced in
the cantors phrase (A) while the balancing responsive phrase (B) sung
by the chorus remains the same. Interest may be further enhanced by
varying the beginning and ending point of the cantors phrase in such
a way as to make this part overlap with the chorus response. In addition
to these, a little elaboration in the form of a short introduction based on
the words of the song may be sung by the cantor or by a member o f the
chorus who wishes to start a new song before the leading phrase (A) is
begun. Examples of this will be found in the music of hple worship
of the Ga people. It is also greatly exploited in Adangme klama
music.'
Songs founded on this type of repetition are basically short, though
the actual repetitions may be drawn out almost indefinitely. Fur
ther extensions o f the basic principle are also common. One might
be built up on a kind of sequential pattern so that A and B are
repeated at different levels, resulting in a form of A B A 1 B*. T h e
complete unit (now of four sections, or even o f six, eight, or more)
can be repeated several times over. In this type too the cantor is
at liberty to introduce slight variations, m elodic or textual. T h e
words of the chorus usually remain the same, though in some
elaborations they are changed while the cantors part stays the
same. As can be seen, many other combinations are also possible
like, for instance, the A 1 B, A 2 B, A J B pattern of many Lim ba
songs.
A ll these elaborations o f the call and response pattern basically
involve the balance o f sections sung by leader and chorus against
each other, and depend essentially on repetition. T h is raises the
problem of how the song is ended. Sometimes the end is abrupt
and the leader simply stops; but at other times he joins in the
chorus response, often w ith a prolonged final note. In other songs
there is a special closing refrain.
Another type o f antiphonal collaboration between leader and
chorus is the solo and chorused refrain'.2 In songs o f this pattern
there is not the same balanced alternation between the two parts.
Instead the soloist merely introduces the song. T h e cantor m ight
sing the entire verse of the song right through once, and this is then
repeated by the chorus. An example o f this is the simple but
effective Ghanaian song:
1 Nketia 1962, p. 29.

1 Ibid., pp. 30-1.

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261

1 sleep long and soundly;

Suddenly, the door creaks.
I open my eyes confused,
And find my love standing by.
Mother Adu, I am dying.
Adu, kinsman of Odurowa,
What matters death to me?1
In the Ewe nyayito dance songs, in which new w ords are con
tinually being composed, the first cantor sings the w hole song
through unaccompanied. B y singing in a dramatic tone he can
encourage people to join the dance.2 In other cases, the cantor
sings only a short introductory phrase, and the chorus then sings
the main song. T h e form is highly flexible:
When the cantor has sung through, he may sing a short leading
phrase before the chorus comes in. This leading phrase may also be
added to a cantors introduction. Further, the main chorus refrain can
be interrupted by a cantor at appropriate points. . . . Furthermore a
number of cantors may take turns at leading the chorus. Either of them
may sing an introductory phrase before the chorus comes in, or they
may take turns at leading each new verse. Sometimes cantors singing
in twos are encountered. Ail these show that this form is flexible, and
that there is room for building up complex sectional patterns on the
basis of the singing roles taken by the participants.2
T h ere are other possible variants. Th ere are various combina
tions o f the two main types described, including songs like the
well-known Adangme klama which open w ith an introductory,
section by the cantor sung in free rhythm, followed b y a section in
strict tempo with a solo lead and chorus refrain (or overlapping
solo and chorus parts), repeated three or more tim es; each new
stanza can then be treated in m uch the same w ay as the song pro
ceeds.4 Sometimes basically solo songs in declamatory style are
supplemented by a chorus or instrumental addition.* In other
songs the antiphony is between two soloists rather than solo and
chorus. T h u s the Kassena-Nankani of northern Ghana have a
special type of song in \yhich a young man who wishes to sing the
praises o f a girl conventionally asks the assistance o f a friend: this
results in a kind o f duet by the two men, accompanied b y gourd
1 Nketia 1963d, p. 37. The emotion of love is, as often in Akan poetry,
likened to that of suffering and death.
2 A. M . Jones i, 1959, p. 75.
* Nketia 1962, pp. 30-1.
* Nketia 1958a, p. 28.
* Nketia 1962, p. 31.

26a

Poetry

percussion.1 Alternatively the antiphony may be between two

choruses. T h is is the common pattern, for instance, in the Lim ba
womens song which accompanies the boys gbondokale dance and
involves almost endless repetition o f only a few phrases. Another
example is the Zulu wedding song where, after the leader has
stated the theme, it is taken up first b y the chorus o f women, and
then b y the men who answer with a contrasting theme, over
lapping w ith the wom ens singing.2
It is clear that the antiphonal form provides scope for far more
flexibility, rich elaboration, and varied interpretation than is imm e
diately apparent from the bald statement that this is the charac
teristic structure o f African songs. It is also a most suitable form
for the purposes to which it is put. It makes possible both the
exploitation o f an expert and creative leader, and popular par
ticipation by all those who wish or are expected to join in. T h e
repetition and lack o f demand on the chorus also make it particularly
appropriate for dancing. Finally the balanced antiphony both gives
the poem a clear structure and adds to its musical attractiveness.
W e must not, however, exaggerate the significance o f this very
common antiphonal type o f song and thus overlook the fact that
some songs are primarily for soloists only. T h u s one o f the song
types recorded from Zambia, the impatigo, seems to be designed
primarily for solo singing;1 men among the Bushmen sing personal
and plaintive songs as solos;4 and certain types o f songs such as
lullabies and sometimes love and herding songs always tend to
be sung b y individuals. Such songs can develop the verbal content,
unlike the antiphonal songs w hich normally seem to involve a lot
o f repetition. I t is b y no means always clear in the sources how far
a song is in fact sung b y chorus and leader and how far ju st b y one
person, because those taking down texts tend to avoid repetitious
phrases and to transcribe the song as i f it were sung b y one person
only. T h e A kan maiden songs are a good example o f how one
could easily assume that there is only one singer. Nketia in fact,
with characteristic precision, explains that these are sung by
groups o f women,.each taking it in turns to lead the verses o f the
song; in the case cited here the last three lines are sung b y the
1 Nketia 1962, p. 27.
1 T . C op e,' "African Music , a lecture given at Natal University*, A fr. Music
2. 2, 1959, P* 35 J*A. M . Jones 1943, PP* n - * 2 .
4 A. Lomax, 'Song Structure and Social Structure', Ethnology 1, 1962,
PP* 438 - 9 .

Lyric

263

chorus. But in most other sources this explanation would not be

added and the w ords would have suggested a single singer. T h e
song is in honour o f a loved one:
He is coming, he is coming,
Treading along on camel blanket in triumph.
Yes, stranger, we are bestirring ourselves.
Agyei the warrior is drunk,
The green mamba with fearful eyes.
Yes, Agyei the warrior,
He is treading along on camel blanket in triumph,
Make way for him.
He is coming, he is coming.
Treading along on sandals (Le. on men).
Yes, stranger, we are bestirring ourselves.
Adum Agyei is drunk.
The Green Mamba, Afaafa Adu.
Yes, Agyei the warrior,
He is treading along on camel blanket in triumph,
Make way for him.1
T h e musical side o f these lyrics, unlike spoken or semi-chanted
poetry, is o f vital importance. T h e verbal expression and the
m elody o f the song are interdependent. So m uch is clear but
beyond this there are m any areas o f uncertainty. For one thing,
the relative weight given to m elody and to verbal content seems to
vary in different areas and between different genres o f song. F or
instance, the w ork songs designed to accompany and lighten
rhythm ic labour lay little stress on the words, and much more on
the melody and rhythm , while in love songs the words take on
greater interest. Further, there seems to be no firm agreement
among musicologists about how far, when discussing African
lyrics, one can generalize about such matters as scale, melody
structure, rhythm , and harmony;2 few detailed studies have been
published for particular areas.2
1 Nketia 19586, p. 20; cf. Nketia 1963a, p. 51.
2 For recent general discussions, see Merriam 1962,1965; A . M . Jones 1959,
ch. 9; Rouget 1961; Tracey 1964; A . Adande, Involution de la musique
africaine, Notes afr. 54, 1952; J. H . Nketia, 'Unity and Diversity in African
Music: a Problem o f Synthesis' in L . Bown and M. Crowder (eds.), Proceedings
o f the First International Congress o f Africanists, London, 1964.
2 Though see Tracey 1948a (Chopi); A. M . Jones 1943,1949 (Zambia), 1959
(Ewe); Nketia 1962 (Ghana); Brandel 1961 (Central Africa); also further
references in Merriam 1965 and L . J. P. Gaskin, A Select Bibliograpky of
African Music, London, 1965.

264

Poetry

One point o f interest is the question o f the exact connection

between spoken and sung tone, especially in the highly tonal
languages characteristic o f parts o f A frica. Again, there is some
controversy on this score, but it seems clear that there is often
a relationship between the tones o f speech and the melody, so that
the melodic pattern is influenced b y linguistic considerations. T h is
is well documented for some W est African languages. T h e rela
tionship seems to be flexible, with the possibility o f variation and
tone modifications. Nketia sums up the position for the several
Ghanaian tone languages:
What the intonation of a song text provides . . . are tone patterns or
syllable relationships and not the actual melodic notes that are to be
employed. We would not, in traditional Ghanaian music, expect a high
tone always to be sung in the upper or middle compass, or a low tone in
the middle or lower compass. Within each compass we would only
expect the melodic working-out of high, mid and low tone relationships.
The verbal intonation would not provide us with the beginning or
ending tone, but it may guide the immediate direction of movement
from the beginning tone or movement towards the ending tone. . . .
The tonal relationship between words and melody is not rigid. It is
flexible. While it is important to take the intonation curve into account
so that the words of a song may be readily recognised, it must be empha
sised that the art of the song lies in the departures that arc made from
this guide where appropriate, on purely melodic grounds. Thus the use
of ascending interlocking patterns or pendular movement where the
intonation shows a descending trend, or the use of rising seconds where
intonation is level belongs to the art of the song. However, it would be
as wrong to assume rigid relationship as it would be to conclude that
because such deviations occur, the tones of words are unimportant in
the construction of melodies.1
Thus, although tone/melody relationships in these languages allow
a certain degree of freedom, the link between the two is a com plex
1 Nketia 1962, p. 52. Similar points have been made by other writers: e.g. on
Ewe tone and tune see A. M. Jones i, 1959, ch. 10; Igbo, Green 1948, p. 841,
and R. W. Wescott, Two Ibo Songs, Anth. Ling. 4, 1962; Yoruba, A. King.
Yoruba Sacred Music from Ekiti, Ibadan, 1961, pp. 38 ff.; Bantu generally.
E. Westphal, Linguistics and the African Music Research, Afr. Music Soc.
Newsletter 1. 1, 1948; West Africa, M. Schneider, Tone and Tune in West
African Music, Ethnomusicology 5, 1961; Chopi, Tracey 1948a, pp. 4-5;
Ngala, J. F. Carrington, Tone and Melody in a Congolese Popular Song .
Afr. Music 4. 1, 1966/7 (reference in Africa 38, 1968, p. n o ); also general dis
cussion in H. H. Wangler, 'Uber Beziehungen zwischen gesprochenen und
gesungenen Tonhohen in afrikanischen Tonsprachen, Jahrbuch fur musikalischc
Volks-und Vdlkerkunde [Berlin] 1, 1963.

L yric

265

one, and composition and extemporization demand a high degree

o f skill.
A further vexed question is that of rhythm . T h e fundamental
importance of rhythm in vocal as in other A frican music is widely
accepted, but there is little agreement as to its exact structure.
O ne helpful distinction is between songs in free and those in
relatively strict rhythm .1 In the former songs (or portions o f
songs) the singing is not co-ordinated with any bodily rhythmic
activity such as work or dancing. T h e very common songs to
strict time, however, have a beat that is articulated with dancing,
rhythm ic movement, percussion by instruments, or hand-dapping,
all o f which contribute to the form and attractiveness o f the song.
T h ese rhythms are worked out in many different ways in various
types o f song, but one com m only recurring musical feature seems
to b e the simultaneous use o f more than one metre at a time, as
a w ay o f heightening the rhythm ic tension.2
T h e accompaniment takes many different forms, depending,
am ong other things, on the geographical area and its resources,2
on the genius of the particular people, and on the different genres
w ithin a single culture. It is common, for instance, to find some
types o f songs regularly without accompaniment, others with just
clapping and/or dancing, others again with m any different kinds
o f instrumental accompaniment, conventionally graded according
to the song, the singers, or the occasion.
W hen we come to the verbal style of these poems, it is almost
impossible to generalize. A s would be expected in poetry, there is
a tendency to use a language somewhat different from that o f
everyday speech. T h is is particularly evident in the case of sung
lyrics, where the melodic line imposes its own requirements, and
in tonal languages, where there is the additional complication of
the relationship between tune and tone. Connected with the
importance attached to the musical aspect in these relatively short,
sung lyrics is the frequent occurrence of meaningless words and
onomatopoeic sounds w hich fill in the line, add length to the song
as actually performed, and are used especially in chorus responses.
Som e songs, too, tend to be verbally fragmentary rather than fully
1 Nketia 1962, p. 64.
* On rhythm, see Merriam 1965, pp. 455-6 (and further references given
there); Nketia 1962, ch. 9; A. M . Jones 1954, 1964.
* See Tracey 1954a, pp. 8-9, on the effect of the environment on the choice
o f instruments.

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Poetry

developed poem s as far as the w ords are concerned, though the

fragments them selves may have a terse poetic interest.1 B u t there
are many variations between different types o f songs, each w ith
its own style and diction, and, indeed, in contrast to comm ents on
the subject-m atter and contexts o f songs, there is relatively little
published w ork available.2
iv
H ow far can these lyrics be said to b e truly personal expressions
o f experience? T h is raises the difficult question o f composition
difficult m ainly because so little interest seems to have been shown
in this aspect o f African poetry. M a n y commentators, even when
they try to take this into account, content themselves w ith labelling
spedfic songs as 'traditional or im provised without considering
in what senses these words are used. B ut even this is better than
the other still comm on approach o f apparently explaining away
the problem b y classifying the lyrics as 'folk-songs w hich can, it
is then assumed, b e happily attributed to 'the folk, so that the
question o f composition does not arise at all.
It is certainly clear that some songs retain their popularity for
many years. T h is may happen less to incidental and recreational
songs (like m ost o f the lyrics described here) than to songs defi
nitely tied to particular solemn occasions such as initiation or
religious ritual. A common pattern demanding further research
m ay be for the m usic to remain basically the same while the words
change.1 B ut even with light-hearted dance songs it does seem that
some (words as well as music) remain popular for so long that they
might w ith some justice be termed traditional. Others, however
and this is m uch more commonly mentioned in recent sources
are ephemeral only. T h e Ibo, for instance, are said to create im. promptu poems all the time and forget them.4 Again, among the
Kam ba most songs are improvised (with the exception o f circum
cision songs w hich reappear in the same form again and again), and
1 e.g. the instance given in Nketia 19586, pp. 15-16.
1 One exception is the consideration of the Somali balvio in Andrzejewski 1967.
> In Tanganyika, for example, the poet seldom composes the tune, but is
free in his choice of the text; thus it is rare for a tune to be associated with one
text only (Koritschoner 1937, p. 51). I noticed a similar pattern with certain
types o f songs particularly dance songs in Eimba; see also A . D . Helser,
African Stories, New York, 1930, p. 65 (Bunt), and above, p. 254, on Somali.
4 Green 1948, p. 842.

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267

v/ith dance songs the leader o f the singing and dancing must make
a new one when the old one is worn out about every month or so.1
Similar comments have been made about songs among many
African peoples.
Even with a familiar song there is room for variations on words
or tune in actual delivery so that each performance in a sense may
b e a new song. It must be remembered that these variations on
a basic theme are more likely in societies which do not share our
stress on the fixing nature o f the written word, the concept of a
single correct form attributed to a single author. Even such
obvious points as the number o f repetitions used by a particular
leader, the order o f the verses, the variations b y instruments in an
accompanied song, and the varied movements o f dancers all
these contribute to the finished work o f art as a unique performance
o f which the verbal text o f the song is only one element. .
There is one further aspect. T h e leader o f the song adds new
verses arising from the basic themes recognized by him and the
chorus. T racey describes this process in Southern Rhodesia.
T h e chorus parts o f a song are expected to remain the same, but the
soloist (mushawri) introduces the song and is allowed full scope for
originality during its performance. I f he is not able to compose his
new verse swiftly enough to keep his initiative, he either repeats
the last verse several times to allow himself time for thought or,
i f necessary, yodels the tune, and finally sings to his neighbour to
replace him in the lead.2 T h is pattern by which the antiphonal
form is exploited through improvisation by the leader and rela
tively unvaried support b y the chorus seems to be very common
indeed. Unless there are definite reasons for retaining sanctioned
words, it seems generally rather rare for such songs to be repeated
exactly from performance to performance there is always scope
for some variation b y the leader. (T h is is apparently also some
times extended to the improvised performance o f quite new
songs in terms o f the m elody and the form o f the words. A t
least in some cases, choruses are quick to pick up the melody and
words, often after having heard them just once or twice from the
leader, and to sing them enthusiastically even though they were
previously unknown to them.)
But one must not be so impressed b y the excellences o f African
improvisation that everything is attributed to spontaneous creation.
1 Lindblom iii, 1934, p. 40.

1 Tracey 19*9, p. 97.

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Poetry

There is, first, the obvious point that improvisation takes place
within certain conventional artistic forms known both to the
soloist and also, perhaps equally important, to the chorus. M ore
significantly, certain commentators make it clear that serious and
conscious composition also takes place.
One o f the more detailed accounts o f such composition is given
by Tracey in his description o f musical composition among the
Chopi. T h e Chopi rjgodo is an orchestral dance in nine to eleven
movements which certain skilled and known musicians compose
anew every two years or so. T h e stress is on the music and its
elaboration. It is worth quoting his description at some length
here, for this dependence of the w ords on the music is b y no
means unparalleled:
A description of how Katini and Gumukomu set about composing
a new orchestral dance will show how musically advanced these men
are. Both o f them say that the first thing they do is to find appropriate
words for their song and compose the verses of the lyric before the
music.1 The subject-matter may be gay, sad, or purely documentary.
In every case it is highly topical and appropriate to the locality, so much
so, in fact, that most of the allusions would be caught only by those in
close touch with the villagers and the district.. . .
To return to the composer: when he has decided upon the words of
his poem, or, in the case of a long poem, the opening verse, he must now
find his melody. Chichopi, in common with other Bantu languages, is
a tone language, and the sounds of the words themselves almost suggest
a melodic flow of tones. This is developed rhythmically, as Gilbert and
Sullivan did in their light operas, in one or other of the well-defined
patterns which characterize their national verse, with clever use of
repetition and offset phrases. The verses are not always metrically alike,
as one would naturally expect of a tone language, but all bear a family
relationship to the prototype lines. As often as not, the final verse sung
to the coda is a repeat of the statement or first line of the poem. In this
they follow a well-recognised trick o f the trade which is exploited so
frequently in our own popular songs.. . .
The verse and the leitmotive now fixed in the composers mind, he
sits at his instrument [xylophone], over which his hands wander with
expert deftness, and picks out the melody. . . . After a while, during
which his right hand becomes accustomed to the new tune, his left will
1 This is not necessarily the most common method of procedure. Contrast,
for instance, Ngoni composition where it is always a single inspiration which
leads the composer to find the right words and the right music (Read 1937,
P. 3) (R.F ).

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269

begin to fill in the harmonies or contra-melody with well-understood

sequences, punctuated with /hythmic surprises suggested by the ebb
and flow of the words. Now the right hand will wander away from the
melody, mapsui, into a variation, kuhambana, and as he sings the words
over to himself the contrapuntal accompaniment will begin to form under
his hands.. . .
They now have the primary melodic line of the poem the subject
or leitmotive and the secondary melodic accompaniment the or
chestral sentence which fits the words contrapuntally, with a number
o f variations and sequences. . . . '
T h ou gh the lyrics and their music are topical and relatively
ephemeral, they are certainly not totally im prom ptu; in describing
the process o f their creation w e can more suitably speak o f artistic
inspiration coupled w ith studied technique than o f improvisa
tion.
Something of the same process occurs w ith several song types
in Zambia.2 Am ong the Ila and T on ga there is commonly an
interest in the personal ownership of songs: individuals are often
expected to sing one o f their own songs a young man on the day
o f his marriage, for instance, a young girl on the day she is allowed
to wear adult dress. A m ong their many types o f songs are those
called impango. T h ese are sung by women only, at beer drinks or
at work, and each wom an must have her own personal repertoire
o f impango songs to sing as solos. O ne woman stands up at a time
and sings her song in a very high and fast style. M eanwhile her
intimate friends or her relatives m ay get u p from time to time
and interrupt the song w ith praise and small gifts. Impango com
position is known to be difficult, and in every village there are a few
women who arc specially skilled in this art. W hat happens when
a woman wants to make an impango is that she first thinks out the
rather lengthy words it may be praise o f herself, her lover, or her
husband and then calls in some o f her women friends to help her.
Together they go to a well-known maker o f impango songs. A fter
hearing the womans ideas, she then, often over a period o f several
days, composes the complete tunc for the w hole song. She calls
a party o f women to practise it each evening after supper, and they
continue until the impango is complete and has been mastered by
the whole party. T h e group is then disbanded and the woman who
owns the song continues to sing it on her own, knowing that if she
81MS14

1 Tracey 1948a, pp. 2 -3 . 4- 5 T

1 A. M . Jones 1943.

vjo

Poetry

forgets at any point she can ask one o f th e practice party to help
her. She is now fu lly mistress o f her impango and proud o f her
accomplishment. W henever she is invited to a festival she keeps
'singing it in her heart until it is finally tim e for her to stand up
and sing it in public.1
T h e composition o f another type o f song, the inyimbo, is a
simpler matter. T h e same sort o f procedure is followed, but as
these songs are shorter and simpler, th e process is quicker. T h ere
are three m ain form s o f this type o f song, and the correct one m ust
be used. T h e typical occasion o f performance is for people to
gather and sit down, and then start clapping or beating with sticks.
A man or woman then stands up and dances; and as the owner o f
the song sings it right through, people pick it up and then sing it
through themselves several times, followed b y the owner again,
then back to the group. Th ere are also other types of song: the
mapobolo song is characterized b y b rie f words and a short tune
which a wom an first composes herself (working out at least the
words or the tune), her friends then helping her to complete it
before the actual performance in antiphonal form ; w hile the
sitengulo or w om ens mourning songs are composed completely b y
the individual, w ith no help from others; she starts to sing little b y
little and gradually adds the words and m elody until the song is
complete.2
There are, then, many different form s o f song among the Ila
and Tonga, and each has its own recognized mode o f composition.
W hat is striking is the emphasis on the care involved in composi
tion and on the idea o f personal ownership.
Song composition in non-literate cultures almost necessarily
involves co-operation, particularly w here there is an accompani
ment b y chorus, instruments, or dancing, and where, as so often
in African lyrics, there is an emphasis both on performance and
on participation b y the audience. B u t that there can also be a
purely personal element o f the greatest significance in moulding
the song is clear from the Chopi and Zambian examples.1 H ow
far this personal contribution is recognized by the people them
selves seems to vary; even within one group certain songs may be
A. M . Jones 1943, pp. 11-12.
* Ibid., pp. 13-15.
* Cf. also the Luo nyatiti songs mentioned in Ch. 4, pp. 99 ff., and the
Somali poets who spend hours or days composing their works (Andrzejewski
and Lewis 1964, p. 45).

Lyric

vji

regarded as the property o f named individuals, w hile others are

c o t.1 B ut it is quite possible that further investigation o f a topic
that has hitherto been ignored w ill show that many other African
peoples besides those mentioned engage not only in the art o f
improvisation but also in a process o f long-considered and re
flective individual creation.
1 e.g. Hurutsche (Merwe 1941, p. 307). For some other discussions of the
process o f composition and attitudes to it see Babalpla 1966, pp. 46 ff. (Yoniba);
de Dampierre 1963, pp. 21 ff. (Nzakara); Read 1937, p. 3 (Ngoni); Nettl 19546,
1956, pp. 12-19 (general).

10

TOPICAL AND POLITICAL SONGS

Topical and local poetry. Songs of political parties and
movements: Mau Mau hymns; Guinea R.D.A. songs;
Northern Rhodesian party songs

5
I

I t has been well said that oral poetry takes the place o f news
papers among non-literate peoples. Songs can be used to report
and comment on current affairs, for political pressure, for propa
ganda, and to reflect and mould public opinion. T h is political and
topical function can be an aspect o f many of the types o f poetry
already discussed work songs, lyric, praise poetry, even at
times something as simple as a lullaby but it is singled out for
special discussion in this chapter. It is o f particular importance to
draw attention to this and to give a number of examples because of
the common tendency in studies o f African verbal art to concen
trate mainly on the traditional whether in romanticizing or in
deprecating tone and to overlook its topical functions, especially
its significance in contemporary situations.1
T h e political role of poetry is not ju st o f recent origin in Africa.
It is true that the present wide-spread occurrence of political songs
directly associated with modern political parties and national
politics did not antedate the founding o f such organizations and
their relevance in the contemporary political scene. But it would
be a very narrow view o f politics which would confine it only to the
affairs o f political parties or the formal institutions o f modern
nation states. In the wider sense it is certain that there were many
political songs and poems in the past. Panegyric is an obvious
example, involving propaganda and support for the authorities,
taking its extreme form in the mouth o f the official court poet
1 There have been a few admirable exceptions to this attitude to African oral
literature, notably Tracey and others associated with the African Music Society
(see esp. Rhodes 1962). Other references are given throughout this chapter. For
a useful general account and bibliography (not specifically related to Africa) see
R. S. Denisoff, Songs o f Persuasion: a Sociological Analysis of Urban Propa
ganda Songs, J A F 79, 1966.

Topical and Political Songs

273

responsible for propagating the versions o f historical events

authorized by the rulers. Eoetry can also be used to pressurize
those in authority or to comm ent on local politics. Songs o f insult,
challenge, or satirical comm ent also have a long history, and can
function not only on a personal level but also as politically effective
weapons.1 Though such satirical and topical poems will be treated
separately from party political songs here, it would be a mistake
to assume too easily that there is necessarily a complete break in
continuity between traditional political poetry and that o f modern
politics. It would be more accurate to say that the long-standing
interests in oral literature and in politics have, not surprisingly,
proved adaptable to the particular political circumstances o f the
mid-twentieth century.

i
A t a local level public singing can take the place of the press,
radio, and publication as a way of expressing public opinion and
bringing pressure to bear on individuals. T h is has been particularly
well documented of the Chopi people of Portuguese East Africa.*
T racey speaks of the democratic purpose o f their poetry and the
w ay poetic justice can be said to be achieved through public
singing. Established chiefs can be criticized in this way the
medium o f song being used for what cannot be said directly:
You, Chugela, you are proud of your position, yet you are only a
chief made by the white man.
Oh, the chieftainships of Nyaligolana and Chugela!
Oh, the chieftainships of Nyaligolana and Chugela!
It is a shame that should be hidden from Wani.*
Chugela is always asking presents from his brother.
Sitiki is excluded from the council. They say they don't know him.
The country of Mawewana is full of troubles.4
T h e lines are from a poem attacking the young chief Chugela who,
though only o f the junior branch o f the fam ily, was being sup
ported by the authorities after their deposition o f previous (senior)
chiefs. T h e poet is also seeking to publicize the view that Sitiki, the
1 For an interesting description of Swahili political songs and lampoons in
the nineteenth century see M . A. Hinawy, Al-Akida and Fort Jesus, Mombasa,
London, 1950, pp. 33 ff.
* Tracey 1945, 1948a.
1 Paramount chief of the district.
4 Truccy 1948a, p. 68.

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Poetry

best brain o f the district and so b y rights a councillor, is being

ignored b y C hu gela.1
Another C hopi poem is designed to put an ambitious man in his
place, an instance o f mild political propaganda. Fambanyane had
tried to throw his w eight around and exaggerate his claims to the
chiefship. H e w as regarded as a public nuisance because o f his
threats against the other candidate, M anjengwe, and was eventually
arrested:
W e are saying,
W e have reason to say we believe
Fambanyane would have liked to be Chief.
Fambanyane was brought before the judge,
So now he cant threaten Manjengwe.
He has lost his chance of wearing chiefs uniform.
W e are saying,
W e have reason to say we believe
Fambanyane would have liked to be Chief.12
T h e C hopi are not alone in the use they make o f song to attack
unpopular public figures. Am ong many other instances one can
quote the effective Somali poem addressed to a sultan w ho was
ignoring the clan assembly and trying to assume dictatorial powers.
T h e sultan no match for the poet was deposed:
The vicissitudes of the world, oh Olaad, are like the clouds of the
seasons
Autumn weather and spring weather come after each other in turn
Into an encampment abandoned by one family, another family
moves
I f a man is killed, one of his relatives will marry his widow
Last night you were hungry and alone, but tonight people will feast
you as a guest
When fortune places a man even on the mere hem of her robe, he
quickly becomes proud and overbearing
A small milking vessel, when filled to the brim, soon overflows.2
Pressure on those with or aspiring to positions o f power can also
be offered in the guise o f flattery. Som e instances o f this have
already been noticed in Chapter 5 on panegyric. Again, one could
1 As interpreted in Tracey 1945.
2 Andrzejcwski 1963, p. 24.

2 Tracey 1948a, p. 18.

Topical and Political Songs

275

cite the piece of Yoruba advice to a pretender to the Alafins

throne:
Be the king at once my lord,
Cease acting like a king1
or, in a rather different context, a poem praising Olorum Nimbe,
then M ayor o f Lagos. Cast in the form of a piece o f popular dance
m usic, it yet proffered advice and instruction:
I am greeting you, Mayor of Lagos,
Mayor of Lagos, Olorum Nimbe,
Look after Lagos carefully.
As we pick up a yam pounder with care.
As we pick up a grinding stone with care,
As we pick up a child with care,
So may you handle Lagos with care.2
T h is indirect means o f communicating with someone in power
through the artistic medium o f a song is a way b y which the singers
hope to influence while at the same time avoiding the open
danger o f speaking directly. T h e conventionality o f the song makes
it possible to indicate publicly what could not be said privately or
directly to a mans face. T o take only one example: when M erriam
w as collecting song texts among the Shi o f the K iv u area in the
C ongo some were sung to him while he was with a plantation
owner. It turned out that the girls working on the plantation were
using these songs to express their dissatisfaction with the owner.
T h e y felt it impossible to raise this directly w ith him, but were
seizing the opportunity to convey it indirectly. T h e y sang, for
instance, o f the w ay the employer had recently stopped giving
them salt and oil:
W e have finished our work. Before, we used to get oil; now we don't
get it. Why has Bwana stopped giving us oil? We dont understand. If
he doesnt give us oil, we will all leave and go to work for the Catholic
Fathers. There we can do little work and have plenty o f oil. So we are
waiting now to see whether Bwana X will give oil. Be careful! I f we
dont get oil, we wont work here.2
N o t all criticisms o f superiors are equally indirect. One could
mention the increasingly harsh and direct innuendo o f the

Beier 1956, p. 26.

* Ibid., p. a8 .
Merriam, 'Song Texts of the Bashi', A/r. Mutic 1. 1, 1954, pp. 51-2.

1 A. P.

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Poetry

unsatisfied Hausa praise singer1 or H ahns description of the Hotten

tots in the nineteenth century. H e reports how unpopular chiefs
were lectured by women in sarcastic reed-songs (a habit ruefully
commented on in the Hottentot proverb about women T h e y
cannot be as long quiet as it takes sweet milk to get sour) and
describes one occasion when the young girls sang into the chiefs
face telling him
that he was a hungry hyena and a roguish jackal; that he was the brown
vulture who is not only satisfied with tearing the flesh from the bones,
but also feasted on the intestines.1
In all these cases the oblique and limited nature o f the attack is
maintained by its limitation to a medium with its own artistic
conventions or to specially privileged singers, sometimes allowed
to perform only on particular occasions.
Songs are also directed against opposing groups or individuals.
These can take many forms. T h ere are, for instance, the halfjoking moqueries de villages among the Dogon, exchanged be
tween individuals of the same age, between villages, or between
different quarters of the same village. Some o f these are only
short phrases, but there are also longer texts, and, within the con
ventional form, Timagination fertile et lironie aceree des D ogon
ne se font pas faute dinventer sans cesse de nouvelles plaisanteries.3 T h e faults and customs of others are ironically commented
on or their accents parodied and ridiculed. O f a more serious and
poetic nature are the songs reported from the Ewe of Ghana.
There, when two villages quarrel, they compose abusive songs
against each other, usually directed against the offending elder o f
the opposing village. Some o f these arc very elaborate and can last,
without repetition, for as long as h alf an hour.4
Similar self-assertive songs b y groups can equally take place in
an urban environment. M itchell has analysed the songs o f kalela
dance teams on the Copperbelt in the early 1950s.5 Each team
boasts o f its own distinctiveness as against other tribes and jokingly *
* Above, Ch. 4, pp. 94-5.
* T . Hahn, Tsuni-||Goom, The Supreme Being of the Khoi-Khoi, London,
1881, p. 28.
1 G. Calame-Griaule, Les moqueries de villages au Soudan franpois,
Notes cfr. 6 t, 1954, p. 13.
4 P. Gbeho, in Afr. Music 1. 1, 1954, p. 62.
* J. C. Mitchell, The Kalela Dance, Rhodes-Livingstone Paper 27, 1956.

Topical and Political Songs

277

derides the customs and languages of others. Y e t th e content o f the

songs themselves not only reflects the preoccupations, events, even
language o f life in th e towns, but also, paradoxically, by its very
attacks on other ethnic groups recognizes their significance for the
singers.1 Again, songs can be used to assert the unity o f trade union
groups. T h e following examples from Tanganyika bring out the
distinction between em ployer and employee:
W e regret that the employers should trifle with us.
W e are deprived of our rights, indeed we know nowhere to eat.
W e do their work, bring them in their money,
Clothes sprout on them through the efforts of the workers.
Give the workers organisations freedom
We dont want the law to break our Unions
In a free Tanganyika may the Unions be strong
We dont want to be despised
So let us unite and triumph over (crush/overthrow) the employers.*
Lampoons are not only used between groups but can also be
a means of communicating and expressing personal enmity between
hostile individuals. W e hear of Galla abusive poems, for in
stance,3 while among the Yoruba when two wom en have quarrelled
they sometimes vent their enmity by singing at each other, espe
cially in situations like the laundry place w hen other women
w ill hear.4 A busive songs against ordinary individuals are also
sometimes directly used as a means of social pressure, enforcing
the will o f public opinion. Am ong the Chopi, for instance, w e
hear o f a verse directed against a young man w ho was trying to
seduce a very young girl:
We see you!
We know you are leading that child astray.
Katini5 sees you but keeps quiet.
Although he knows it all right he keeps quiet, Katini, the leader of
Timbilas.6
We know you!7
1 For a parallel with the kalela dance see H. E. Lambert, The Beni Dance
Songs, Stvahili 33, 1962/3.
2 W. H. Whiteley, Problems of a Lingua Franca: Swahili and the Tradeunions, J. Afr. Languages 3. 3, 1964, p. 221.
1 Chadwicks iii, 1940, p. 549.
4 A. Mabogunje, T h e Yoruba Home, Odit 5, 1938, p. 3s.
5 The composer.
6 Local xylophones.
7 Tracey 19480, p. 29.

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Poetry

A group o f H ottentots took the same line against an old man who
married a you n g g irl: her friends sang T h e first wife is dismissed,
his only great thought is the second w ife '.1
Such songs can even.be said on occasion to form part o f sem ijudicial proceedings against individuals. T h is is particularly clear
in the case o f th e Ibo. F o r instance, in one area (Umuahia) oro
songs are sung at night b y groups o f you n g men and women who
go to the houses o f those they agree have offended, and sing against
them as w ell as causing physical dam age to their possessions. A
notoriously lazy man is lampooned:
Ibejimato, Ibejimato, it is time now. Woman asks you to wrestle
with her but you carry your cutlass and walk about; it is time now.*
Ibejimato is so lazy and fearful that he does not even dare to fight
a woman; in fact they remind him that w hen he did once get in
volved in a quarrel w ith a woman, h e actually ran away, his cutlass
on his shoulder. T h e song is to make him realize his laziness, and
make him feel ashamed and turn over a new leaf and is supple
mented b y damage to his possessions. O n another occasion abusive
songs by wom en formed part o f the procedure o f collecting a fine
already imposed on a woman for false accusation the execution
o f justice*.* T h e wom en went in a b ody to the house o f the offender
to sing and dance against her. Both songs and dances were quite
explicitly obscene and the episode had the effect o f m aking the
victim undertake to pay her fine.4
I t is possible to exaggerate the functional aspect o f such lam
poons. Sheer enjoyment plays a part too. A s Green writes o f the
episode ju st m entioned:
As for the women, I never saw them so spirited. They were having
a night out and they were heartily enjoying it and there was a speed and
energy about everything they did that gave a distinctive quality to the
episode. It was also the only occasion in the village that struck one as
obscene in the intention of the people themselves. Mixed with what
seemed genuine amusement there was much uncontrolled, abandoned
laughter. There was a suggestion of consciously kicking over the traces
about the whole affair.*
1 Hahn, op. cit., p. 39.
,
4 A. Madumere, 'Ibo Village Music', AJr. A ffa ir1 52,1953, p. 64.
* M. M. Green, Igbo Village A ffaire, London, 2nd ed., 1964, P- aoo.
* Ibid., pp. 199-305.
* Ibid., pp. 303-3.

Topical and Political Songs

279

Even without the extra appeal o f unaccustomed obscenity as in

these derisive Ibo songs, this enjoyment m ay be ju st as significant
as social control. T h u s the Hottentots sing satirically but with
humour o f a childless couple:
We love each other as the goats that have no kids love
We love each other as the goats that have no kids love1
and in Tanganyika the A su nyimbo za kugana, songs sung in huts
ju s t before sleep, provide an opportunity for improvisation and
hum our as well as attack. O ne man starts up the song, then others
reply in solo or chorus for example, in address to a grumbler:
Ndi-ndi! Ndi-ndil [expletives used in complaining]
Grandfather o f Mruma,
He hasnt a cow,
He hasnt a goat,
He hasnt a chicken,
No not (even) a rat (in his house)2
and so on, continued at great length, with plenty o f scope for
humour, until almost every conceivable possession has been
named, while the chorus reply in unison ndi-ndi! after each fine.
Similar enjoyment is evident in the public dances and singing in
A bom ey (Dahomey) witnessed b y Herskovits, w hen unpopular
individuals are ridiculed and attacked in songs. T h o u gh no names
are mentioned, everyone knows who is meant and rejoices in the
occasion. F or example:
Woman, thy soul is misshapen.
In haste was it made, in haste.
So fleshless a face speaks, telling
Thy soul was formed without care.
The ancestral day for thy making
Wa3 moulded in .haste, in haste.
A thing of no beauty art thou,
Th y face unsuited to be a face,
Th y feet unsuited for feet1
These derisive songs directed against specified individuals or
groups shade into topical and satirical songs in general. T h u s the
T iv , among many others, sing about the events o f the year: they
1 Stopa 1938, p. 110.
2 A. F. Bull, Asu (Parc) Proverbs and Songs, A frica 6 , X933>PP- 326-7.
* Herskovits 1934, p. 78.

2$0

Poetry

comment on the present position o f chiefs or express their reactions

to a recent deposition or this seasons road work. T h ey also im pro
vise about recent incidents and people like the song about selling
their soya beans to only one o f the rival firms:
We are not going to sell our soya beans to Mallam Dama
we are going to sell them to Alhaji Sail.1
Domestic affairs also come into such songs. T h e Ndau dancer
comments ruefully on his fathers new wife:
M y father, he married
A crocodile wife,
That bites, that bites.
I-ya, I-ya-wo-yel2
while a Baule woman sings lightly:
Je commettrai volontiers ladult&re. Les mans de mes camarades
seront tour h tour mes amants. Mais qui dentre elles aura laudace de
seplaindre?3
Th ese topical songs often give a vivid personal picture o f a
general situation and the attitude to it, as well as o f the specific
events they comment on. T h u s in M alawi, in the late 1950s, the
wives o f men detained for opposition to government showed their
pride in their Prison Graduate husbands, and used to sing as they
pounded their maize:
M y husband is a man:
Hes away in Kanjedza.
The men who are here
Are women like us.4
Again an Acholi girl married to a soldier sings effectively o f their
separation: they can write letters but what can letters do?
Writing writing writing so many letters.
Those letters can they be changed into a child ?
Wives of soldiers are barren [have to wait for years before they get
a child].
Wives of soldiers are truly barren.
* M. G. M. Lane, The Music of T iv, A fr. Music 1,1,1954, p. 14. Cf. also
H. R. Phillips, Some Tiv Songs, Nigerian Teacher 6, 1936.
1 Curtis 1920, p. 39.
> G. Effimbra, Manuel de baouli, Paris, 1952, p. 297.
4 Quoted in C. Sanger, Central A frican Emergency, London, i960, p. 320.
1 Okot 1963, p. 312.

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Topical and P olitica l Songs

O r a Chewa woman thinks about her husband who is away w orking

in the copper m ines:
When I get a letter from Masula
I read it with all my heart.1
T h e same experience from the m an's viewpoint is touched on
in a Sotho dance song in the country areas:
Basutoland is my fatherland,
A t Bushmans Nek, near Machacha, in the mountains.
I joined up for work on the mines;
But when I arrived I found myself in trouble.
I was with Molelekoa, son of Smith.
So I crossed the Vaal very early in the morning
That was when I was nearly swept down with the river.
Perhaps it was because I was running away,
Running away and leaving my passes on the veld.
I left mine in the western Transvaal,
I left both my pass and my tax receipt!2
T h e urban experiences of Africans in the towns o f South A frica
are commented on in many o f the Z ulu songs about police and
passes recorded by T racey.3 These can be illustrated from three o f
his examples. In the first, the scene is the pass office where all
male Africans had to go to get their Registration Certificates,
involving a wait o f hours, even days, before being interviewed:
Take off your hat.
What is your home name?
Who is your father?
Who is your chief?
Where do you pay your tax ?
What river do you drink ?
We mourn for our country.4
Arrest by the police for not having the correct papers, and im
prisonment in Blue Sky, the popular name o f the gaol at Boksburg
near Johannesburg, are the themes o f th e next two songs:
There comes the big van.
All over the country
They call it the Pick-up Van.
2 Tracey 1963, p. 19.

Tracey 19486.

2 A fr. M usic 2. 2, 1959, pp. 72-3.

4 Ibid., p. 53.

Poetry

282

There is the Pick-up.

There, there is the big van.
Wheres your pass?
Wheres your tax?1
T h ey caught him!
They caUght him and handcuffed him!
T h ey sent him to Blue Sky.1
T h e last type o f topical song to be mentioned here comprises those
w hich particularly express the aspirations and self-appreciation
o f groups, songs w hich often have at least some political relevance.
T h ese merge into the songs already discussed, and also recall
some o f the m ilitary poem s which reflect and reinforce the militant
unity o f a given group. A n example w ould be the Akan hunting
song which asserts the power o f the hunters group against that
o f the chief:
Does the chief say he is greater than the hunter?
Arrogance! Hunter? Arrogance!1
and the trade union and kalela dance songs could b e seen to be
fulfilling something o f the same function. So too in the Congo the
followers o f the prophet M atswa expressed their protest and their
allegiance in song:
Nous autres qui navons pas de soutien.
Nous autres qui n'avons pa3 de defenseur.
Dieu le P&re-tout-puissant, veille sur nous.
Pfcre Congo, Pfcre, qui pensera h nous?
A nous autres, qui y pensera?
Matswa, P&re-tout-puissant, veille sur nous.
Matswa, Pfcre-tout-puissant, envoie-nous un ddfenseur.*
Even in South A frica a certain amount o f fairly explicit political
protest seems to be expressed through song i f w e can assume that
certain o f the South A frican freedom songs5 were o f wide circula
tion. In one, for instance, the an gers appeal to C hief L uth u li
(President o f th e A frican National Congress) in conjunction w ith
D r. G . M . N aicker (President o f the Indian Congress):
1 Tracey 1948b, p. 5$.

Ibid., p. 54.

* Nkeda 19636, p. 76; and aee full song in.Ch. 8 above, pp. 223-4.

Balandier 9 SS. P - 1557.

< Folkways Records Album EPC-601, New York, quoted in Rhodes 1962,
p. 22.

Topical and P olitical Songs

God,
God,
God,
God,

283

save the volunteers,

save Africans.
save the volunteers,
save Africans.

We say yes, yes, Chief Lut'huli,

And you, Doctor Naicker, liberate us.
(Bass voices) Daliga chek.
We say yes, yes, Chief Luthuli,
And you, Doctor Naicker, liberate us.
(Bass voices) Daliga chek.1
In certain circumstances hym ns can have similar overtones. Some
o f the religious verses o f the South African separatist churches
founded by Shembe express political aspirations and ideals that
are difficult to communicate through more formal political channels
the idea o f Africa for the Africans, or o f the value, despite the
contemporary political situation, o f African customs and leader
ship:
Africa, rise!
And seek thy Saviour.
Today our sons and daughters
are slaves.2
M ore explicitly political are some o f the performances o f the
originally Methodist-inspired hym n Nkosi Sikele' iA frica . . .
('G o d bless Africa . . . ), w hich is used as a political song in meet
ings o f the African National Congress and other political contexts,3
the M au M au 'hymns discussed in'the next section, and the w ay
in w hich, during Nkrum ahs imprisonment b y the colonial
authorities, political protest was expressed by the singing o f
Christian hymns like 'L ead kindly light, amid the encircling
gloom /
T h e social functions o f the various types o f songs mentioned
here are particularly obvious, more strikingly so than most o f
those discussed in earlier chapters. T h ey can be a w ay o f exerting
pressure on others, whether equals or superiors; o f expressing
often indirectly or in a limited and conventional manner, w hat
could not be said directly, or through a different medium, o r on
1 Rhodes 1962, pp. 18-19.
* B. Sundkler, Bantu Prophets in South A frica, London, 2nd ed., 1961, p. 196.
* Rhodes, op. dt., pp. 16-17.
4 Ibid., p. (6.

284

Poetry

just any occasion; of upholding or suggesting certain values and

interests which cannot be expressed in other ways, particularly
when there is no direct access to political activity. Like Dogon
villagers or kalela dancers, the singers may both assert the soli
darity o f their own group and at the same time recognize their
close relationship with others. T h e songs may even as Herskovits
and his followers remind us provide a means for the psycho
logical release o f otherwise repressed enmities and tensions
through a socially permissible form . But besides these obvious
social functions we can point equally to the related literary roles o f
these songs to the way in w hich such socially sanctioned occa
sions are used for artistic purposes, to the humour and enjoyment
expressed, to the satirical, m editative, or resigned comm ent on
the circumstances of life, and, finally, to the way in w hich even
enmity or social pressure can be viewed with a certain detachment
through the artistic and conventional medium o f the song.*

11
It is perhaps not generally recognized how widely political songs
are used in Africa. Songs are now accepted by African political
parties as a vehicle for communication, propaganda, political
pressure, and political education. T h eir exact nature and purpose
vary, but they have in common the fact of being oral rather than
visual propaganda. It is true that some of these songs at times
appear in writing, even print, and written collections o f party
songs circulate in some areas; none the less their propagation
among the largely non-literate masses is almost purely oral. A s
such they are a powerful and flexible weapon in many types o f
political activity.
One o f the. advantages songs may have as vehicles o f political
expression is their apparently innocuous nature. T h is is particu
larly true o f those songs used at a relatively early stage in African
nationalist movements when concealment o f organized political
activity was felt desirable. In a colonial situation in w hich political
power was ultimately in the hands o f foreigners, many o f whom
could not speak the local language, songs and poems had the 1
1 For other instances of topical songs see D. C. Simmons, Ibibio Topical
Ballads', M an 60, i960; J. Roberts, 'Kenyas Pop Music, Transition (Kampala)
4. 19, 1965; Ogunba 1967, pp. 370-422 (Ijebu Yoruba).

Topical and P olitica l Songs

285

double advantage o f being ostensibly nothing to do with politics

at all (unlike, say, newspapers) and o f being unintelligible to
many o f those in authority. Rhodes cites an early example o f
this from W est A frica, in a drum poem used b y the Ashanti after
their submission to British rule in 1900. W hen the Governor
appeared at a public gathering, he was ceremonially, and appa
rently honorifically, greeted with drum m usic; what the drums
were repeating, however, were the w ords o f an old war song,
'slowly but surely w e shall kill Adinkra ; w hile the local audience
understood quite clearly that b y 'A dinkra' the drums meant the
British, it is doubtful i f the Governor w as aware o f any political
significance at all, let alone a hostile one.1 Somali love poems,
or apparent love poems, have been used in the same way. T h e y
could safely be performed in public or even on the governmentcontrolled radio, the obscurity o f their language concealing their
meaning for the independence struggle, except from their intended
audiences (the people in the independence movement).1 Again,
there was the occasion o f the Queens Birthday Festivities in
Nyasaland (as it was then called) in the early 1950s, when official
policy was to encourage the idea o f federation against local opposi
tion. T h e school-children marched innocently past the presiding
District Commissioner singing anti-federation songs taught them
b y their schoolteacher and the D istrict Commissioner did not
understand a w ord.3
One of the best examples o f the use o f songs for secret propa
ganda is the hym ns used by the M au M au movement in K enya
in the early 1950s.4 T h is movement, part political, part religious,
was banned by government, and yet, largely by means o f these
songs, was able to carry out active and wide-spread propaganda
among the masses in Kenya. Leakey describes vividly how this
could be done:
The leaders of the Mau Mau movement were quick to realise the
very great opportunity which the Kikuyu love o f hymn singing offered
for propaganda purposes. In the first place propaganda in 'hymn form
and set to well-known tunes would be speedily learned by heart and
sung over again and again and thus provide a most effective method o f
1 Rhodes 1962, pp. 14-15 (based on a personal communication by J. M.
Nketia).
* Andrzejewski 1967, p. 13.
1 Tracey 1954a, p. 237.
4 The present account is taken from the description in L. S. B. Leakey,
Defeating M au M au, London, 1954, esp. ch. 5.
8161314

286

Poetry

spreading the new ideas. T h e fact that such hymns would be learned
by heart, by those who could read them, and then taught to others,
meant that they would soon also become well known to the illiterate
members of the tribe. This was very important, for there were many
who could not be reached by ordinary printed propaganda methods.
More important still, these propaganda messages could safely be sung
in the presence o f all but a very few Europeans, since the vast majority
could not understand a word o f Kikuyu and if they heard a large, or
a small, group ringing to the tune o f Onward Christian Soldiers ,
'Abide with M e, or any other well-known hymn, they were hardly
likely to suspect that propaganda against themselves was going on under
their very noses. T h ey would be more likely to consider that a Christian
revival was on its w a y .. . .
There is no doubt at all that these hymns, which were bring sung at
K .A .U . [Kenya African Union] meetings, at Independent Schools and
Churches, in the homes o f thousands in the Kikuyu Reserve, in squatter
villages on European farms, and even in the staff quarters and kitchens
o f European homes, were one o f the most powerful propaganda weapons
of the whole Mau Mau movement1
Some examples o f these M au M au hym ns (in English translation)
will illustrate these points more clearly. T h e first is praise o f Jomo
Kenyatta, w ho is represented as the great leader and saviour, the
focus of unity and loyalty:
God makes his covenant shine until it is brighter than the sun, so
that neither hill nor darkness can prevent him coming to fulfil it, for
God is known as the Conqueror.
He told Kenyatta in a vision You shall multiply as the stars of
heaven, nations will be blessed because o f you. And Kenyatta believed
him and God swore to it by his mighty pow er.. . .
Kenyatta made a Covenant with the Kikuyu saying he would devote
his life to them, and would go to Europe to search for the power to rule,
so as to be a judge over the House of Mumbi. I ask myself 'Will we ever
come out of this state o f slavery?
He went, he arrived there and he came back. He promised the
Kikuyu When I return M ----- shall go in order to arrange for the
return of our land. May God have mercy upon us.
When the day for his return comes he will come with the decisions
about our land and the building which he said he would come to erect
at Githunguri ya Wairera shall be the one in which our rule shall be
established.*
> Leakey, op. cit., pp. 53-4, 75.

* Ibid., p. 57.

Topical and Political Songs

287

T h e next two vividly express and encourage hatred o f Europeans

fo r their actions and presence in Kenya, particularly their control
o f land:
There is great wailing in the land of the black people because of land
hunger, you fools and wise people alike, is there any among you who is
not aware of the over-crowding in our land.
You Europeans you are nothing but robbers, though you pretended
you came to lead us. Go away, go away you Europeans, the years that
are past have been more than enough for u s .. . .
You of Kikuyu and Mumbi1 fight hard, that we may be given selfgovernment, that our land may be given back to us. The com is ripe
for harvest, if we are late the harvest will be l o s t . . .
Long ago the Europeans came upon us with weapons o f war and
they drove us out and took our land. Go away, go away you Euro
peans. . . .*
When the Europeans came from Europe they said they came to give
us learning and we accepted them gladly, but woe upon us, they really
came to oppress us.
Those who hate the house o f Mumbi and say they prefer the Euro
peans, will have great trouble in Kikuyu land when we achieve selfgovernment.
When the house of Mumbi meets in order to recruit others to the
house o f Mumbi1 there are some who ride with the enemy and are like
Judas o f old.
Y ou house of Mumbi even if you are oppressed, do not be afraid in
your hearts, a Kikuyu proverb says God help those who help them
selves .
Y ou who side with Europeans when they go back to Europe, you
will kneel down before us and weep, claiming that you did not realise
what you were doing.
When the Europeans return to Europe you who sell the land o f the
house o f Mumbi we will answer you, by saying, We disown you even
as you disowned us'.
When Kenyatta came back from Europe he came with a spear and
sword and shield and a war helmet on his head as a sign for the Kikuyu.
M ----- will return with spear and shield to uplift the house o f
Mumbi and avenge the oppression which they have suffered from the
Europeans.
* The traditional Eve of the Kikuyu.
* Leakey, op. cit, pp. 63-4.
* This means that when members of Mau Mau (who always refer to them
selves as the house of Mumbi) meet for an oath ceremony at which others are
formally enlisted into the movement, there are some who go and report to the
police and take on themselves the role of traitor.

Poetry

z88

Let those who go and report on our doings be accursed by their

reports and if they get pay for what they do, let the pay be a curse
upon them too.
Oh, house of Mumbi let us exert ourselves to get our land returned,
the land which was ours and stolen from us by the deceitful Europeans.1
M any other similar threats were expressed against K ikuyu 'loyalists
who supported the government. T h e effect was a direct incitement
to violence, w hich resulted in the deaths o f many of these suspected
traitors:
As for you who side with the Europeans, on the day when God hears
us, you will be wiped out.
Let every man ask himself, let everyone ask himself, How do I
stand with the black races? for the time is soon coming like the days of
long ago when the evil people will be burned.2
These hym ns appeared in books as w ell as in oral form and were
frequently distributed through the offices o f the K .A .U . (which
operated as a front organization for M au Mau). Little notice was
taken by the authorities o f these publications. T h is was in contrast
to the K iku yu newspapers which w ere closely scrutinized b y the
Intelligence Branch o f the police and thought to be potentially
subversive b y European employers. T h e hymn-books appeared
safe from such suspicion, and those in charge were able to become
bolder and more blatant in their incitements to violence. O ne o f
their triumphs was the setting of new words to the tune o f the
British National Anthem calling, in various versions, for blessing
on the land o f the Kikuyu, on Jomo Kenyatta, and on those agitating
for self-government. T h is ploy was immediately successful. Sup
porters o f M au M au were seen enthusiastically standing up for the
National Anthem , in reality praying for the return of their own land
to them ; while Europeans merely remarked on the apparent increase
among the K ikuyu of loyalty to th e C row n.3 Calls to violence against
Europeans as well as K iku yu traitors could also become more
open. T h u s, to the tune o f Here w e suffer grief and pain :
Here we suffer thumb-printing and grass planting. T wont be so
when the land is ours.
The warrior hut is set up, one brave leader is already here, the other
is on his way.
1 Leakey, op. dt., pp. 65-6.

1 Ibid., pp. 65, 62. Many loyalists were in fact burned alive.
> Ibid., pp. 72-3.

Topical and P olitical Songs

289

Let the Europeans exert themselves now for the time has come to
separate what is theirs and what belongs to others.
Those who were our friends, but who have become spies will be cast
into the sea.
What is making you hesitate when you hear the call to prepare? You
were bom to be warriors.
Their ears are shut, their hearts are shut, Now let us march to war.
Support your just words with strong deeds that you fall not by the
wayside.1
T h e results of these hymns as propaganda can be seen in the
spread and tenacity o f M au M au as a political movement. Because
the ideas expressed were considered subversive by the government
they could not be publicized openly. But the hym ns could speak
quite explicitly to the audience for w hom they were intended.
Hym ns had the further advantages that they were felt to be a
specially effective and personal way o f reaching the peoples hearts,
and could be claimed to result from a special revelation, giving
them a religious as w ell as a political sanction.
Although basic to the M au M au situation, secrecy is not always
necessary. In other circumstances in fact songs can form a part o f
a political movement w hich expressly intends to publicize its aims.
A good example of this is given in Schachters description o f the
confrontation between the R .D .A . and the local French administra
tion in French G uinea (as it was then) in 1954-5.2
T h e R .D A . (Rassemblement Dem ocratique Africain) had the
support of a large majority of people in French Guinea, and was
led locally by Sekou Toure. T h is leader had succeeded in captur
ing both the support and the imagination o f his followers. M any
myths were woven around him, and in songs and poems he, the
R .D .A ., and its sym bol S ily (the elephant) stood as symbols o f
the political aspirations of the people:
Sily is too strong.
He does not retreat
When he is provoked.3
One of the main weapons used by the R .D .A . was political
songs praising Sekou T ou re and attacking or advising his op
ponents. Unlike M au M au hymns, these do not ever seem to have
1 Ibid., p. 68.
* R. Schachter, French Guineas R.D.A. Folk Songs , West A ft. Revietc 29,
1958 (which see for further details).
1 Ibid., p. 673.

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Poetry

appeared in w ritten form, but they nevertheless became popular

throughout G uinea, mostly in the Susu language. Where less than
ten per cent o f the population could read or write the French
language taught in schools, the effectiveness o f these orally trans
mitted songs as political propaganda is obvious. It was further
strengthened b y the linking o f Sekou T o u re and the R .D .A . with
Islam, the main religion in Guinea.
T h e political songs played an important part in the incidents
o f 1954-5. A deputy for Guinea to the French National Assem bly
died in 1954 and new elections were held. S6kou T o u rl, the R .D .A .
candidate, was supported by the urban workers and many o f the
farmers, but his opponent, Barry Diawadou, was backed not only
b y the officially appointed chiefs but b y the French administration.
So, when Diawadou was declared elected, the popular belief was
that the results had been falsified by the administration to secure
the election o f their own candidate. Diawadou was abused in song
for his opposition to the elephant (the R .D .A .):
Diawadou you are a thief.
You stole not only from Yacine,1
You stole from the people.
There will be a fatal reckoning
When you face your God.
You, Diawadou I
You stole from the elephant.
You stole a voice.
One of those voices sings.
You cannot steal a voice.
You will pay.
The elephant is the strongest.2
People continued to believe that Skou Tour was the rightful
deputy, their real chief, and when he travelled round the
country he w as given a heros welcom e and greeted in songs o f
praise:
You came into your land.
You came into your capital.
You chose your hour for coming.
A chief commands.
He speaks his will.
1 The previous deputy.

'*
* Schachter, op. cit., p. 673.

Topical and Political Songs

291

Lift up your head!

Look at the sea of faces.
It is your world.
It is your people:
Which sits
When you say sit;
Which rises
When you say rise.
You are a new chief.
You are chosen as chief.
T h e people is with you.
The barriers are cut.
W e must follow,
For all will follow.
You are a new chief.
L ift up your head!
Look at the sea of faces,
That answers when you call.1
T h e official declaration that Skou Tourd had been defeated
thus led to general anger in both Conakry and the interior, and
there were many demonstrations, riots, and protest meetings in
w hich songs played their part. T h is mass indignation was used b y
the R .D .A . leaders to demonstrate their following to the French
administration and local political opponents. T h e following shows
h ow the R .D .A . m ilitants preached unity and solidarity to the
people: they must stand united, for even Skou Tourd can do
nothing alone against the authorities. T h e opponents o f R .D A . are
called on to o : they should accept the chiefship o f S6kou Tourd and
the French National A ssem bly should refuse to validate theelection:
Listen to the story of Sdkou.
Sdkou alone can do nothing,
Just as no one can act alone.
All the councillors are against him,
As are all their henchmen.
All the important people hate him.
Listen carefully,
The elections are not yet validated.
If you want the trouble to end,
Give the chiefdom to him who merits i t
Ibid.

292

Poetry
So that the trouble ends.
For the trouble has long antennae
Which will cross your path
When least you expect them.1

T h e local French administration attempted to hold the situation.

Repressive measures were tried, among them the expulsion of
many unemployed in Conakry who were thought responsible for
some of the recent incidents. T h e results o f this, however, were
not altogether as expected. Schachter describes the removal of
these vagrants : They were piled into trucks, and sent back to the
villages. R .D .A . militants tell o f their delight at these free rides.
T h e overloaded open trucks carried many R .D .A . supporters on
impromptu propaganda tours. T h is is what they chanted on their
trip:
They say that the elephant does not exist.
But here is the elephant,
The elephant no one can beat.1
T h e French National Assem blys acceptance of the election results
added further fuel to the movement. Throughout the land S6kou
Toure and his policies were praised in many contexts in religious
terminology:
God is great.
It is hard
To bring unbelievers
Into the brotherhood o f believers.
But we need the die-hards
To spur us on
To make life complete2
or in compositions by the w om en:
Here is the light
O f the chieftaincy o f Skou Tour.
It rises,
Inextinguishable,
Immeasurable,
Glorious.
Those who are o f good faith
Speak in our way.
1 Schachter, op. cit., p. 675.

2 Ibid., p. 677.

Topical and P olitical Songs

293

Those who are of bad faith

Qualify, what they say.
One single thing is true.
When the sun rises
The palm of the hand
Cannot hide its light.
It is visible;
It is gigantic. You cannot stand its heat.
Even in a shaded place.
It is like the light
O f Sekous chieftaincy.'
So effective was this R .D .A . mass opposition that the ad
ministration was forced to reconsider its policy and the French
Colonial M inister came out to explore the possibility of a different
approach. T h e R .D .A . seized the opportunity to demonstrate its
wide support and turned out huge crowds in welcome. R .D .A .
militants took charge o f public order, giant placards were paraded,
and R .D .A . songs were performed all the w ay along the route from
the airport to the town.
This visit marked the turning-point. T h o u gh popular protests
continued, the R .D .A . considered it a confession o f their success
and of the metropolitan French governm ents repudiation o f the
local administrations policy. M ore elections w ere finally held in
January 1956 (and yet more songs were composed). T h e R .D .A .s
candidates, including S6kou Toure, won tw o o f the three Guinea
seats to the French National Assem bly. T h is final triumph was
summed up in their songs of triumph over their now powerless
opponents. T h e y sang:
You prepare food,
The most exquisite food to be found.
You are ready with your spoon
T o spoon out the first spoonful.
And lo! a drop of violent poison
Falls into the food.
T h e water is dirtied
It becomes undrinkable.
A ll is finished.
All is over.1
1 Ibid., pp. 675-7.

1 Ibid., p. 681.

294

Poetry

T h e campaign had finally been successful and the propaganda had

fulfilled its purpose.
By the late 1950s and early 1960s political songs in Africa seem
to have become a standard accompaniment o f recognized political
parties and the election campaigns that were by now becoming
more and more a feature o f political activity in African colonies
and ex-colonies. Songs formed part o f election campaigns in, for
example, Sierra Leone and Senegal in 1957, Nyasaland in 1961,
and Northern Rhodesia in 1962. Som e politicians managed to
exploit oral propaganda even further and, like the Western Nigerian
leader Adelabu, organized the circulation o f gramophone records
o f songs supporting them .1 Altogether there is still great reliance
on oral means o f propaganda speeches, mass meetings, and songs
in keeping with the still largely non-literate or semi-literate mass
electorate for w hom the written word is o f relatively lesser
significance.
Northern Rhodesia (later Zam bia) seems to have been par
ticularly rich in organized political songs in the vernacular, som e
times specially composed and written for the party, and often sung
by official mass choirs. Several have been published among those
written for the A frican National Congress (A .N .C .) in the late 1950s.
One, cast in the form o f a praise song, honouring Nkumbula,
President o f the A .N .C ., had the familiar purpose of attempting
to project a leaders image to the mass o f followers:
M r. Nkumbula, we praise you.
You have done a good work.
Look today, we sing praising you,
For you have done a good work.
We praise, too, all your cabinet
And all your Action Group.
You have done good work.2
T w o other songs can be quoted w hich were used to promote the
A .N .C.*s policies and to educate as well as incite the masses. Illdefined popular grievances are taken up and focused into definite
political aims associated with the party programme. T h e first is in
* See R. L . Sklar, N igerian P o litica l P a rties, Princeton, 1963, p. 300, cf.
p. 313; also the detailed description of the use of such songs (and others) in
electioneering at a local level in Western N igerb in U. Beier, Transition without
Tears, Encounter 15, Oct. i960.
2 Rhodes 1962, p. 18.

Topical and Political Songs

295

the form of a meditation w ith chorus, suitable for the whole

audience to echo:
One day, I stood by the road side.
I saw cars passing by.
A s I looked inside the cars
I saw only white faces in them.
These were European settlers.
Following the cars were cyclists With black faces.
They were poor Africans.
Refrain. The Africans say,
Give us, give us cars, too,
Give us, give us our land
That we may rule ourselves.
I stood still but thinking
How and why it is that white faces
Travel by car while black faces travel by cycle.
A t last I found out that it was that house,
T h e Parliamentary House that is composed o f Europeans,
In other words, because this country is ruled by
White faces, these white faces do not want
Anything good for black frees.1
Sharp political comment and demand can also be conveyed:
When talking about democracy2
We must teach these Europeans
Because they do not know.
See here in Africa they bring their clothes
But leave democracy in Europe.
Refrain. G o back, go back and
Bring true democracy.
We are no longer asleep
We are up and about democracy
We have known for a long time.
We are the majority and we demand
A majority in die Legislative Council.. . .*
' Ibid., p. 19.
> Rhodes 196a, p. 20.

The English word is used.

296

Poetry

H ow far removed these songs are from the M au M au emphasis on

secrecy can be seen from the fact that a few o f these A .N .C . songs
are in fact in English a w ay o f applying pressure on Europeans.
T h e open and public nature o f Northern Rhodesian party songs
also comes out in the election campaign fought in 1962. Songs,
usually in Bemba, were a recognized part of mass meetings.
M ulford describes a typical-rally:
Thousands were packed in an enormous semi-circle around the large
official platform constructed by the youth brigade on one of the huge
ant hills. Other ant hills nearby swarmed with observers seeking a
better view of the speakers. Hundreds of small flags in U N IP s colours
were strung above the crowd. Youth brigade members, known as
'Zambia policemen and wearing lion skin hats, acted as stewards and
controlled the crowds when party officials arrived or departed. U N IP S
jazz band played an occasional calypso or jive tune, and between each
speech, small choirs sang political songs praising UNIP and its leaders.
Kaunda will politically get Africans freed from the English,
Who treat us unfairly and beat us daily.
U N IP as an organization does not stay in one place.
It moves to various kinds of places and peoples,
Letting them know the difficulties with which we are faced.
These whites are only paving the way for us,
So that w e come and rule ourselves smoothly.1
These U N IP songs were not confined to statements o f policy and
aspiration (These whites are only paving the way for u s . . . ),
but also sometimes gave precise instructions for the actual voting,
a matter of great importance in campaigns among an inexperienced
electorate. One particularly infectious calypso sung in English gave
the necessary instructions: '
Upper roll voting papers will be green.
Lower roll voting papers will be pink.
Chorus. Green paper goes in green box.
Pink paper goes in pink box.2
Th ese three examples o f the use o f political songs, drawn from
very different political situations, show something of the flexibility
of this particular medium. Songs can be used to veil a political
1 D. C . Mulford, The N orthern R hodesia G eneral E lection 19 6 2 , Nairobi,
1964, pp. 133-4.
2 Ibid., pp. 134-5.

Topical and P olitical Songs

297

message from opponents, to publicize it yet further, to whip up

popular support, or to pressurize its enemies. In different contexts,
songs can have the effect o f intensifying factional differences, or
o f encouraging national unity.1 T h e y can focus interest on the
image o f the leader (or o f the opponent) and on the specific political
aims of the party. T h e ir effectiveness in reaching mass audiences
in countries w ithout a tradition o f written communication cannot
be exaggerated. Songs can be picked up and learnt by heart, trans
mitted orally from group to group, form a real and a sym bolic
link between educated leader and uneducated masses in sh ort,
perform all the familiar functions o f political propaganda and
comment.
Little has been written about the literary quality and form o f
these political songs; most o f them have been collected b y those
interested prim arily in their political c intent. But it does not
necessarily follow that, just because they have a clear political
function, there are therefore no artistic conventions observed b y
composer or singers, or that they can necessarily be dismissed as
o f no serious artistic interest. It seems that in some cases the songs
are based on traditional literary form s o f one kind or another.
Praise o f political leaders fits with the traditional interest in pane
gyric,1 and among some peoples (e.g. K ikuyu or Ndebele) old war
songs are sometimes used in new contexts for political pressure or
intimidation;1*3 while among the Somali the traditional and serious
gabay form is now commonly used for political propaganda.4 In
other cases one o f the dominant models would seem to be that o f
the Christian hymn, an influence apparent not only in the case o f
M au M au but also, among others, with the C .P .P . in Ghana or
the Nigerian N .C .N .C .5 But how far the artistic conventions o f the
originals are carried over into the political adaptations is by no
means clear.
1 Cf. G . Nurse, 'Popular Songs and National Identity in Malawi, Afr. Music
3. 3, 1964; J. Sachs, Swahili-Lieder aus Sansibar , Mitt. Inst. Orientforsch.
12. 3, 1966. On rebel songs in the context of an independent African state see
forthcoming work on Uganda by K. Alnaes.
1 Cf. the Shona praise poems with modem political overtones (Fortune 1964,
p. 108), and the use of griots for electioneering in Senegambia (O. P. Gamble,
The Wolof of Senegambia, London, 1957, p. 80).
1 Leakey, op. cit., p. 56; Afr. Music 2. 4, 1961, p. 117.
4 Andrzejewski and Lewis 1964, p. 48.
3 See e.g. T . Hodgkin, African Political Parties, Harmondsworth, 1961,
p. 136.

298

Poetry

W hat does appear certain is that there w ill remain plenty o f

opportunity to study the literary quality o f the songs, for they
show no signs o f dying out. Indeed their contemporary relevance
is demonstrated if demonstration is needed in the action o f the
Nigerian military rulers in 1966 in banning political songs as part
o f their attempt to curb political activity, o r the Tanzanian govern
ments appeal to musicians in 1967 to help to spread its new policies
o f socialism and self-reliance to the people through song. It is too
easy to assume that this means o f oral propaganda is bound to
disappear w ith increasing literacy and modernization, as if news
papers and w ritten communications w ere somehow the only
natural and m odem way o f conducting political propaganda.
O n the contrary it is possible that the spread o f the transistor
radio may in fact add fresh impetus to political songs.

11

CHILDRENS SONGS AND RHYMES

Lullabies and nursery rhymes. Childrens games and verses;
Southern Sudanese action songs

i t t l e systematic interest has been taken in childrens verse in

A frica, and though isolated instances have been recorded this has
/been done without any discussion o f context or local significance.1
O n the published evidence it b not clear, for instance, how far
fthe previous lack o f a distinct body o f schoolchildren in most
-African societies affected the specificity o f childrens verse as d b rtinct from that o f other groups, or how far the oral compositions
{ilow current in the increasing number o f schoob parallel similar
^phenomena recorded elsewhere. Nevertheless, some remarks on
what is known to occur in A frica m ay be relevant here, not least
if its shortcomings provoke further research or synthesb.* I shall
-Klbcuss first lullabies (and other songs designed for children but
.prim arily transmitted b y adults) and secondly the rhymes and
songs which tend to be fo r a slightly older age-group and are
regarded as belonging to the children themselves in their own
play.
i

Lullabies provide a good example o f the w ay in which what

m ight be expected to be a simple, natural, and spontaneous
expression o f feeling in all societies a mother singing to her
child is in fact governed b y convention and affected b y the par
ticular constitution o f the society.
1 Though see Tucker 1933; Griaule 1938a, pp. 205-75; Adam 1940, pp.
131-4; Gbadamosi and Beier 1959, pp. 53-8; Biart 1955; Blacking 1967.
* Further material can almost certainly be' found which so far has achieved
only local circulation, e.g. U. Beier and B. Gbadamosi (eds.), T h e M oon C annot
F ig h t, Ibadan, n.d. (Yoruba childrens poems), and collections made by local
teachers and others. Childrens songs are also sometimes included on recordings
published by the International Library o f African Music (e.g. five Tswana
childrens singing games T R i n ) .

1
300

Poetry

One major factor is the question o f who has the main responsi
bility for looking after a child. Am ong the Ngoni, for instance,
a kind o f upper-class group in M alawi, there were few lullabies:
most Ngoni women employed nurse-maids from other groups to
look after their children. Som ething similar was true am ong the
rank-conscious Nyoro o f Uganda. There, however, the nurses
commonly sang their own lullabies to their charges, expressing
their feelings about the mothers attitude:
Ha!
Ha!
Ha!
Ha!
Ha!

that mother, who takes her food alone.

that mother, before she has eaten.
that mother she says, Lull the children for me.
that mother when she has finished to eat.
that mother she says Give the child to me.1

One o f the main raisons d etre o f such lullabies among Nyoro

nurses would in fact seem to be, not primarily the lulling o f the
child at all, but an indirect comment on their own position, for
they were afraid of making direct requests to their masters
and therefore they always expressed what they wanted in
lullabies. 1
Other African lullabies fit more easily into our common picture
of a mother concentrated on the needs o f her ch ild; but even in
these the tone and purpose m ay vary. Some lay the greatest
emphasis on the idea o f rocking the child to sleep, often brought
out by the rhythm and liquid vowel sounds o f the original. Hero,
for instance, is the first verse o f a long Swahili lullaby:
Lululu,
Lululu,
Lululu,
Lululu,

mwana (wa)
mwana (wa)
mwana (wa)
mwana (wa)

lilanji,
kanda!
lilanji,
kanda!

(Lululu, Kindchen, warum weinst du?

Lululu, verwohntes kleincs Kind!
Lululu, Kindchen, warum weinst du ?
Lululu, verwohntes kleines Kind!)2
and the same soothing repetitive sounds come in one o f the
commonest Zulu lullabies:
1 Y . Bansisa, Music in Africa,
Von Tiling 19*7. PP- 29 --

U ganda J .

4, 1936, p. 110.

Childrens Songs and Rhymes

301

Thula, thula, thula, mntanami,

Ukhalelani na?
Ushaywa u6ani?
Thula mntanami, umamakekho
(Peace, peace, peace, my child,
Why weepest thou ?
Who annoys?
Peace, child, mother is not home.)1
Other songs seem to represent more the mothers delight in
playing with her child than a desirepo soothe it,12 or a detached
and good-humoured comment as
sings to the child on her back:
Ou est partie la mere du petit ?
Partie puiser de leau.
Pas revenue de puiser eau.
Partie piler la feuille de baobab
Pas revenue de piler la feuille
Partie preparer les plats
Pas revenue de preparer les piai s
Sur la falaisc, sur la falaise, un oeuf de poule est suspendul

where the last line vividly pictures the w ay the little childs bottom
is perched like an egg on his mother's steep back.3 T h e Kam ba
mother also pictures her own absorption in her child and her
neglect of other things for his sake, view ing her own attitude with
a certain detachment:
Mother,4 mother of the child, leave off crying, poverty!
You have come, you have surpassed me in crying.4
1 Dhlomo 1947, p. 7. (See also slightly different versions in Curtis 1920;
Vilakazi 1938, p. 120.) The reference to the mother's absence may be just a
conventional part of the song, or may, if taken literally, indicate that this
lullaby too was much sung by nurses. Some other Zulu lullabies (isihlaBelelo)
are made up specially by the mother for individual children with whom they are
intimately connected, so that each individual has his isihlaBelelo, 'the song of his
childhood, regarded as something essentially his own' (G. J. Krige, The Social
System of the Zulus, Pietermaritzburg, 1936, pp. 338-9).
1 e.g. the Swahili song given by Von Tiling, op. cit., p. 290.
1 Griaule 1938a, p. 226.
4 Kamba children are often called 'mother' by their own mothers.
* i.e. I am glad that you came to me, but I never cried so much when I was
a baby.

8151314

302

Poetry
And even if it is the rain which rains,
I put away the tree,1 I shall call my mother.
And even if it is the Masai,x
Who carries spear and shield, I put away the tree.
I shall call you, I shall lull to sleep on my arm, mother.
I shall not hear the goats who are bleating.3

Like many other lullabies, those o f the Rundi are characterized

b y rhythm and cadence as well as the use o f onomatopoeic words.
B ut they also seem notably meditative in tone. T h e mother ex
presses and comments on her own feelings and on her expectations
o f the attitudes o f others:
0 ce qui me donne du travail, je taime.
Demain de bonne hcure nous causerons.
De trfcs bonne heure, dfcs quil fera clair.
Viens que je te caresse (en te donnant de petits coups).
Endors-toi, mets fin k ma solitude.
Ecoutons s'ii y a des cnnemis.
Mon roi, mon roi.
Tranquille! que je te frotte dodoriferants
Qui taccompagnent chez le roi (qui te font arriver jusque chez le roi).
Tranquille! sommeille sur le dos.
T a belle-mere est sterile.
Elle te donnerait du tabac (au lieu de nourriture).
Mime si la bouillie ne manque pas.4
There are also rhym es or songs for grown-ups to recite to chil
dren, distinct both from lullabies and from ordinary adult songs.
T h e Zulu are said to have many nursery songs in both rural and
urban areas, am ong them one made up o f an amusing combination
o f clicks to teach children the correct pronunciation (Qhuweqha
weqhuweqha, f Qhitigqilithi qh! etc.).3 Several examples o f these
1 i.e. digging stick. Women are usually very busy in their gardens at the
start of the rainy season, but this mother is thinking only o f her child.
1 Much feared warriors.
3 Lindblom iii, 1934, p. 51.'
4 B. Zuure, Poisies chez les Barundi, A frica 5,1932, p. 35*- For some further
references to lullabies, besides those already mentioned, see e.g. Nketia 19586,
p. 18 (Akan); A. de Rop, Berceuses m ongo , Anthropos 60, 1965; A. Coupez.
Rythme quantitatif dans les berceuses rundi', Folia Scientifica Africae Centralis
S< 3 >>959 ! Biart 1955, pp. 60 ff. (various lullabies from West Africa); Sempebwa
1948, p. zo(Ganda); 'Berceuse', Jeune A fr iq u e 6-1949; L . Anya-Noa, Berceuses
beti', Effort camerounais 1962/3; Belinga 1965, pp. 23 ff.
1 Vilakazi 1938, p. i z i .

Children's Songs and Rhymes

303

rhym es for children are included in Griaules comprehensive

study Jetix dogons. One is for finger play:

Le petit doigt a dit; oncle jai faim

Lannulaire a dit: nous allons recevoir (k manger)
Le majeur a dit: demandons
Lindex a dit: volons
Le pouce a dit: je nen suis pas (pour voter).
Depuis ce temps, le pouce sest dearth des autres doigts. 1
T h e next song is to stop a small child crying by tickling up his
arm

Singe noir
Dans la main de mon fils
Ai mis un pdlyd [fruit] cassd
L a enleve puis la mangd
Puis 9k, puis 9k, puis 9k.

Ca. g&gfiigfir... .*

T h ere does not seem to be evidence o f a large body o f specialized

nursery rhymes in any A frican society to the same extent as in
English tradition, for example. However, it is hard to believe that
it is only in Zulu and D ogon two o f the most comprehensively
studied African cultures that rhymes o f the kind quoted can be
found, and it is, very possible that further research will reveal
similar nursery-rhyme form s in many other African societies.11

11
L ik e children elsewhere, African children seem to have the
fam iliar range o f games and verse for their own play nonsense
songs, singing games, catch rhymes, and so on. T h e y also engage
in riddle-asking* and in other games and dances which cannot be
treated here.
1 Griaule 1938a, p. 224.
* Ibid., p. 225.
* T h ey are sometimes mentioned in passing for other peoples, e.g. Tracey
1929, p. 97 (nursey rhymes among Kalanga, Southern Rhodesia); Blart 1955,
ch. 6 (West Africa); Adali-Mortti 1958, p. 39 (nursery rhymes among the Ewe
and other West African peoples); S. Hillelson, Arabic Nursery Rhymes, Sudan
Notes 1. 1, 1918; D. C. Simmons, 'Specimens of Efik Folklore', Folklore 66,
1955, pp. 420-1; H. E. Lambert, A Note on Children's Pastimes', Swahili 30,
1959. P- 78 .
* See Ch. 15.

304

Poetry

Before quoting instances o f such childrens verses, one has to

sound a note o f caution. Obviously, what is to count as childrens
verse in a given society depends on the local classification o f
children, and one cannot necessarily assume that the childrens
songs o f another society are directly comparable with those of
ones own. In English society, for example, the contemporary con
cept o f a child is closely connected with the idea o f a school
population, a partly separate com m unity of school children with
their conventions and lore to some extent opposed to those o f
adults. It was suitable therefore that the main sources for the
Opies1 classic work on childrens verse should have been the
schools. B ut this close association o f children and formal schools
does not- hold true in all areas o f Africa and was even less true
in the past and one cannot necessarily assume the same clear-cut
separation between the interests and orientations of children and
those o f adults.
T h is is not to say that there are no local or traditional ways of
marking off the age-group of children from that of the adult
world, merely that these do not necessarily parallel those of
W estern Europe. It is common for a ceremonial initiation to mark
a clear dividing-line between childhood and maturity, often taking
place at around the age of puberty, but in some societies (or with
some individuals) this may be m uch earlier or much later. In
some cases, initiation may be as young as, say, seven or eight years
old, and the special initiation songs which are so often a feature
of this ceremony might seem to parallel songs sung b y similar
age-groups in other societies'. In fact they may be quite different
in intention; they are to be sung b y the children qua initiates
(i.e. officially no longer children) and are often taught them by
their elders. T h ey cannot then be regarded as childrens songs
in the sense we are using the term here. In some African societies,
again, there is strong pressure from children, as they get older, to
prove themselves ready to enter the adult world. T h is means that,
besides having their own verse and games, they are likely to try
to master certain of the songs and other activities regarded as
suitable for adults, and, indeed, m ay be encouraged to do so.
Am ong the Ila and Tonga of Zam bia, for instance, ziyabilo songs
in praise o f cattle and other possessions are sung by grown-up
m en; but many o f these adult ziyabilo were in fact composed by
I. and P. Opie,

T he L o re and L a ngu age o f S choolchildren ,

Oxford, 1959.

C hildren's Songs and Rhym es

305

their singers when they were still young boys minding their
fathers cattle in the bush. T h e child thus models himself and his
verse on his father and other adult men father than concentrating
on a special type appropriate to children.1
One way in which children are often separated from other
groups is in the kind o f work they are expected to do, and there
are sometimes special songs associated witli such tasks. These
include the light-hearted songs sung b y the young Limba boys
who spend long weeks in the rainy seasons in farm shelters scaring
away the birds and animals from the ripening rice, or the childrens
song among the Dogon, sung to discourage various birds from
plundering the millet:
Oiseau, sorsl
goro sorsl
bandey sors!
Pour vous le mil nest pas mur.
II nest pas lheurc dc manger le mil vert
Diarrhee du ventre.
Oil est parti le guerisseur de la diarrhee ?
II est parti k Banan1
II est parti k Banan; cc nest pas le moment dc venir.
Oiseau sors!
Tourterelle sors!
Pigeon sors.1
I f the exact nature o f 'childrens verse must be seen as depend
ing partly on the particular ideas o f each society about age structure,
assignment of tasks, and behaviour expected o f the various agegroups, it does nevertheless seem that in most African societies
children do to some extent separate themselves off from adults
in at least some play activities and have at least some rhymes and
songs o f their own. T h is is encouraged b y the fact that many
o f them live in large fam ily groupings, with m uch time spent out
side their own homes in the open air rather than in small, enclosed
fam ily circles. Nowadays, too, there is the additional factor o f the
increasing number o f schools.
Nonsense songs, tongue-twisting rhymes, and trick verses are
all documented. Ibo girls, for instance, sing a nonsense rhyme
which could be translated as Oh, oh, oh, oh, / girls agree / tall girl,
1 Jones 1943, pp. 12-13.
1 Griaule 1938a, p. 220.

* A nearby village.

36

Poetry

Iruka / koko yam s, / sour, sour koko yams, / he goat sour, 1 and
tongue-twisters are recorded among the M bete o f W est Central
Africa and others:
Kusa le podi kadi Le liscron enlace ie potcau.
Kudi le podi kusa lx* potcau enlace le jiseron
and
M va o ktsadi nama Le chien attrapa lanimal.
noma o txvn mva L animal mordit lc chicn.2
T h e nonsense frequently takes the form o f a kind o f follow-up
or progressive rhym e, usually in dialogue. In one form or another,
this type o f verbal play has been recorded from several parts o f
the continent.1 T h e sequences may be just for fun or may also
include a definite competitive content making up a kind o f game.
T h is is true o f the M oru o f the Southern Sudan where the children
divide into tw o sides, one o f which asks the questions. T h e answer
depends on remembering the right sequence of words quickly
enough, and those who get it wrong are ridiculed:
A.
B.
A.
B.
A.
B.
A.
B.
A.
B.
A.
B.

A di ru doro maro ni ya?

Kumu au.
Kumu adi ?
Kumu Ngeri.
Ngeri a'di?
Ngeri Koko.
Koko a'di ?
Koko Lire.
Lire adi?
Lire Kide.
Kide adi?
Kide Langba.

Who has taken my bowl?

Kumu has.
Whos Kumu?
Kumu son of Ngeri.
Whos Ngeri?
Ngeri son of Koko.
Whos Koko?
Koko son of Lire.
Whos Lire?
Lire son of Kide.
Whos Kide?
Kide son of Langba.

1 lyoo, 6 I A bo, ktofktce, / ihwu, Iruka / fde / bualoka, okabvialfde, / nkpi

buxrfoka. N . W . Thomas, Anthropological Report on the Ibo-speaking Peoples o f
Nigeria, London, 1913, vol. iii, p. 51.

1 Adam

1940. P- 1331 e.g. the West African Dogon (Griaulc 1938a, pp. 212-14) and possibly
Fulani (if the examples of chain-rhymes cited by Amott 1957, pp. 393 ff. are
intended for children, which seems not improbable), as well os the instances
from the Swazi (South Africa), Mbete (West Central Africa), and Moru
(Southern Sudan) mentioned below. C f. also D . P. Gamble, Chain-rhymes in
Senegambian Languages, Africa 29, 1959, pp. 82-3 (Wolof, Mandingo, and
Fula), Blacking 1967, p.p. 101, toz, 116-17 (Venda), and catchword com
positions (for adults) in Malawi (Macdonald 1882, vol. i, pp. 50-1).

C hildren's Songs and Rhymes

37

Who's Langba?
Langba son o f Kutu.
Whos Kutu?

A . Langba a'di?
B . Langba Kutu,
A . Kutu a'di?

(ending up fortissimo)
B . Kutu temele cowa
Dango udute nyorli.

Kutus a sheep in the forest

The bulls are fast asleep.1

Sometimes the verbal parallelism is less exact, as in the Swazi

'childrens part-song in w hich the children are divided into two
groups which take turns in singing a line, then join together at
the end. It is not an action rhyme, but depends on the words and
tune alone for its attraction:

A . Y e woman beyond the river

B . W ei (responding to the call).
A . What are you dusting?
B . Ia m dusting a skin petticoat.
A . What is a skin petticoat?
B . It is Mgamulafecele.
A . What have they killed?
B . They have killed a skunk.
A . Where did they take it?
B . T o Gojogojane.
A . Who is Gojogojane?
B . He-who-eats-cowdung-when-hungry.
A . For whom would he leave (some of) it?
B . He would leave (some) for Shishane.
A . and B .
Shishane is not to blame,
H ie blame is for Foloza,
He who says he alone is handsome.
The hoes of Mbandzeni
They go knocking against him,
The knocker of Njikeni.
Magagula, Magagula keep the dod of earth rightly squeezed in
z
your
A m ore complicated form is quoted from the M bete where the
rhym e builds up in a cumulative way. Tw o children take part:
1 T . H. B. Mynors, Moru Proverbs and Gomes, Sudan Notes 24, 1941,
p. 206.
* Given as quoted in J. A . Engelbrecht, Swazi Texts with Notes, Am al* o f
the Univ. o f Stellenbosch (B) 8. a, 1930, PP- i -n . Several of the references are
obscure.

308
A.
B.
A.
B.

Poetry
Sediande?
Sedi miye nkwi.
Omo a nde?
Omo milono sedi o nkwi.

A . Oywoleande?
B. Oywole milono omo,
Omo milono sedi o nkwi.
A . Otadi a nde?
B . Otadi milono oywole,
Oywole milono omo,
Omo milono sedi 0 n k w i. .

La
La
La
La

gazelle oil est-elle ?

gazelle est allde au bois.
premifere oil est-elle?
premiere a suivi la gazelle au
bois.
La deuxi&me oil est-elle?
La deuxi&me a suivi la premiere,
La premiere a suivi la gazelle au
bois.
La troisi&me oil est-elle?
La troisi&me a suivi la deuxi&me,
L a deuxi&ne a suivi la premiere,
La premiere a suivi la gazelle au
b o is. . .

and so on up to the tenth which involves the answerer repeating

the whole sequence.1
Other types o f rhymes and songs are also recorded. T h ere is
the kind of catch rhyme exemplified by the Y oruba:
Who has blood?
Has a goat blood ?
Has a sheep blood?
Has a horse blood?
Has a stone blood ?

Chorus.

Blood, blood.
Blood, blood.
Blood, blood.
Blood, blood.

in which the point o f the game is to try to get some child to say
blood after an inanimate object. A mistake results in laughter
and sometimes a friendly beating.2 Th ere also-seem to be plenty
of songs enjoyed for their own sakes or for their usefulness in
mocking other children. A Dogon child with his head recently
shaved will be greeted with
CrUne nu, lonlaire!
Viens manger un plat de riz,
Viens manger un plat de potasse,
Viens manger un plat de mil2
while a Ganda child w ho has not washed m ay hear
Mr. Dirty-face passed here
And M r. Dirtier-face followed.4
* Adam 1940, pp. 132-3. He also gives an example where the response
directly echoes the second half of the query (p. 132).
1 Gbadamosi and Beier 1959, pp. 55, 67.
1 Griaule 19380, p. 230.
4 Sempebwa 1948, p. 20.

Children's Songs and Rhymes

309

O r again, a kind o f general comment may be made as in the

humorous and rueful son g'by a Yoruba child:
Hunger is beating me.
The soapseller hawks her goods about.
But if I cannot wash my inside,
How can wash my outside?1

So far w e have concentrated on rhymes and songs that a r e .

mainly valued for their words or m usic rather than their relation
to action. But there are also many examples o f songs sung to
accom pany games or dances, or form ing an integral part o f them.
A minor example would be the counting-out rhymes o f the Dogon
where those partaking are gradually eliminated according to whose
leg the last syllable falls on at each subsequent repetition.2 Yoruba
children similarly use a rhym e as part o f a hide-and-seek game.
T h e searcher faces the wall singing his nonsense song while the
others hide. W hen he reaches the question part o f the song the
others must reply in chorus, giving him a clue to their hidingplaces:
Now we are playing hide and seek.
Let us play hide and seek.
Hey, tobacco seller,
This is your mother here,
Whom I am wrapping up in those leaves.
I opened the soup pot
And caught her right inside
Stealing meat!
Who nails the root ?
Chorus. The carpenter.
Who sews the dress?
Chorus. The tailor, (etc.)2
O ther action songs are m ore complicated in that they are based
on imitation or on definite set dance patterns. Shona children,
for instance, have an imitative song in which they circle round
and round imitating an eagle catching small chickens.4 Again,
there are the Hottentot action songs based on the com m on prin
ciples o f a ring or o f two rows facing each other.2 '
1 Gbadamosi and Beier 1959, p. 54.
* Griaule 1938a, pp. 214-13. Some of these are in the chain-rhyme1 form.
2 Gbadamosi and Beier 1959, pp. 55, 68.
* G . A. Taylor, Some Moshona Songs and Dances, N a d a 4, 1926, p. 38.
5 Stopa 1938, pp. 100-4.

3Jo

Poetry

A more detailed account o f action songs is given b y Tucker,

drawing on his observation o f children at mission schools in the
Sudan in the 1930s.1 H is conclusion is that the songs and games
w ere not introduced b y the missionaries themselves (or at least
not consciously), but whatever th e truth o f this, it is in any case
suitable to end b y quoting from this account in some detail. Schools
are becom ing increasingly important in the lives o f more and more
children in Africa, and it is likely that similar singing games
from whatever source are now wide-spread (and thus accessible
to study) among school groups.
T h e children whose round games were studied were mostly
boys from various Southern Sudanese peoples (N uer, Shilluk,
D inka, Bari, and Lotuko). T h e games are played on a moonlit
night in the dry season and the singing, mostly in strophe and
antistrophe, is led b y one o f the boys and accompanied b y hand
clapping, foot-thumping, or the action o f the game. O ften the
w ords themselves count for little. Sometimes the meaning is
almost slurred out o f recognition, and in this the Shilluks and
N u ers are the greatest offenders, some o f their songs consisting
o f m ere nonsense syllables, w hich they themselves do not pretend
to understand. (In such cases they usually give out that the words
are D inka .)1 T h e translations are therefore rather free.
M o st o f the singing games are based on the principle o f a ring,
the players squatting or standing in a circle. In one, the equivalent
o f 'H u n t the slipper, th e players sit in a circle w ith their feet under
them . T h e leader in the m iddle o f the ring has to find a bracelet
w hich is being passed surreptitiously round the ring. H e sings,
answered by the others as they slap their knees in tim e to the song:
Leader. Bracelet of my sons wife,
Chorus. I want I want now, bracelet of poor Bana,
It is Tost
repeated over and over until the leader successfully challenges one
o f th e circle who, if caught w ith the bracelet, has to take the
leaders place in the centre.) A nother action song based on a ring
is a type o f counting-out gam e:
T h e boys sitin a circle, or, it might be, a right-angle, with their feet
stuck out straight in front of them. An elder boy squats on his haun
ches before them and chants a queer formula, much longer than any
f

1 Tucker 1933.

* Ibid., p. 166.

* Ibid., pp. 166-7 (Shilluk).

311

Childrens Songs and Rhymes

European equivalent, tapping the feet as he chants, till the last word is
said. The foot last touched is 'out* and the owner must sit on it. He goes
on in this way till everybody is sitting on both his feet, i.e. practically
kneeling. He then begins with the first boy of the line. There is a formula
and response, and then he bows down in front of the boy with his eyes
shut and his head almost touching the boys knees. The boy has to
stand up without touching the mans head with his knees. (He may use
his hands to help himself, if he wishes.) If the man hears the boys
knees creak as he rises, the boy is made to stand on one side. I f his
knees do not creak, he stands somewhere else. Soon we have two groups
creaky and non-creaky knees. (O f course, the longer one is forced to
sit on ones feet, the greater the likelihood o f creaky knees!) . . . The
game ends with the non-creaky knees pursuing the creaky knees and
punishing them.1
Another ring game is the Lotuko one in which a boy in the centre,
the ape, has to try to grab the leg o f one o f the boys dancing
round him in a ring and to upset him . If he succeeds, they change
places:
Here he goes around to steal
Break away
Bad ape.
Break away
Bad ape.1
There are also a number o f gam'es based on the idea o f the arch
or the line. In one the boys line up in two opposing ranks and one
line advances slow ly towards the other, which retreats, both sides
singing:
T h e foreigner
Chin of a goat
T h e foreigner comes striding haughtily
With his red skin.
T h is is repeated several times, the two lines taking it in turn to
advance. Suddenly the pace and verse change. Those advancing
now run stiff-legged and try to kick the others shins, again singing
over and o v e r :.
W hy does the stranger hurry so ?
Ha! ha! hurry so.
Why does the stranger hurry so?
Ha! ha! hurry so.3
Ibid., pp. 169-70.

* Ibid., p. 176.

* Ibid., p. 18a.

312

Poetry

Tucker comments that this game is definitely a hit at the white

man. T h e chin o f a goat** in.the first song refers to the beards
o f the R .C . missionaries (beards being considered unseemly among
the Nilotic tribes); while the kicking in the second song is thought
to be a skit on the average officials use o f his boots when angry
or impatient.*1
Chasing and following games also take place to sung words. In
the Acholi version of Follow my leader the boys stand in single
file, holding each others waists, and the leader takes them in a
closing circle to the words of the song 'd o se in, then worms his
way out again, singing open out. T h e words o f the song form
the background. T h e verse A dula dul dula na dula dul. A dula
ye. Dula na dula dul. A dula kuk! D ula na dula dul. A dula y e
means close in, while the same tune, with gonya instead o f dula,
means open out.1
Finally there are imitations of animals. Som e of these occur
in chasing games like the Shilluk Lion and sheep, but in others
the imitations seem to be taken more seriously. In one a boy
doubles himself up to represent a frog and tries to jum p back
wards in a circle without falling over, in tim e to his companions
song:
Jump up and down,
Up and dom .
Jump up and down,
Up and down.
I shall jump again,
Up and down.
I shall jump again,
Up and down.3
In 'Bush-buck in a trap the success o f the game depends on the
exactness o f the leaders imitation o f the animal:
The boys stand in a ring, holding hands. One boy is in the middle,
and he is Gbodi, the bush-buck. He sings suiting his actions to the
words, and the others reply, copying him.
Thus, for example:
Gbodi shake your head, Gbodi shake your head.
Kongo.
Gbodi crouch down, Gbodi crouch down.
Kongo.
1 Tucker 1933, p. 183.

1 Ibid., p. 179.

1 Ibid., p. 185.

Children's Songs and Rhymes

Gbodi scratch your ear, Gbodi scratch your car.

Gbodi stamp your foot, Gbodi stamp your foot.
Kongo.
Gbodi snort and snuffle, Gbodi snort and snuffle.
Kongo.
Gbodi break away now, Gbodi break away now.

3*3

Kongo.

Kongo.

At the words Gbodi break away now, he makes a wild dash for safety,
and tries to break through the circle. If he fails, he has to act Gbodi
again.'
T h ese are only a few of the singing games recorded by T u cker,12*
and he himself claims to give only a random selection. B ut even
this, he considers, picked up casually from different corners of
the Southern Sudan, and covering primitive races with mutually
unintelligible languages, should serve to show the main founda
tions on which the great m ajority o f childrens singing games are
b u i l t . . . . These foundations are, to all intents and purposes,
identical with those that underlie the forms of European chil
drens games, viz. the ring, the arch and the line.'*
It seems clear that many such singing games and other types
o f childrens songs remain to be collected or analysed.4*9A t the
moment little can be said about the distribution o f different types,
the transmission o f these form s among the children themselves,
the degree o f individual originality as against conventional forms,1
1 Ibid., p. 184.
2 He gives twenty-four in all, fully illustrated with the music, original, and
(usually) translation.
2 Tucker 1933, p. 187.
* T hey are mentioned (or, in a few cases, described) for e.g. Kamba (Mbiti
>959, p. 259); Ganda (Sempebwa 1948, p. 20); Ewe (A. M. Jones i, 1959,
pp. 16-39); Ashanti (Nketia 1962, p. 67); Tswana(Bantu Studies 7,1933, p. 80);
Mpama-Bakutu (A. Windels, Jeux et divertissements chez les Mpama-Bakutu,
Aequatoria 1, 1939, p. 19); children in Leopoldville (S. Comhaire-Sylvain, Les
jeux des enfants noirs & Leopoldville, Zaire 3, 1949, and Jeux congolais,
Zaire 6, 1952); Ibo (B. Nettl, Ibo Songs from Nigeria, Native and Hybridized,
Midwest Folklore 3,1934, pp. 238-9); Efik (D. C . Simmons, Efik Games, Folklore 69, 1958); Hausa (I<. Krieger, Knabenspiele der Hausa, Baessler-Arckm
N.F. 3, 1955).
9 The Dogon examples collected by Griaule suggest the same kind of varia

tions on a single theme for some of the verses as is evident in the many
variants of the same rhyme in the Opies collection of English school childrens
rhymes.

3*4

Poetry

or the incidence o f topical or other comment. W hat does seem

certain is that the growing numbers o f school children in con
tem porary A frica are likely m ore and more to develop their own
distinct and conventional songs and games increasingly it is in
th e schools that these can most easily and^fruitfully be studied.

I l l PROSE

12

PROSE NARRATIVES I. PROBLEMS

AND THEORIES
Introductory. Evolutionist.interpretations. Historicalgeographical school. Classification and typologies.
Structural-functional approach. Conclusion
T h e existence o f stories in A frica is widely known. One o f the
first things any student o f African oral literature or o f comparative
literature generally discovers about Africa is the great number o f
so-called folktales. He will hear above all o f the many animal
tales that so vividly and humorously portray the tricks o f the
spider, the little hare, or the antelope, or exhibit the discomfiture
o f the heavy and powerful members o f the animal world through
the wiles o f their tiny adversaries. Less well known, but still
familiar, are the many African tales set in the human world,
about, say, the trials o f a young man wooing a wife, the selfsacrifice o f two friends for each other, or the triumph o f the
youngest, despised member o f a fam ily; and the famous m yths
o f the various African peoples about such subjects as the origin
o f death, o f mankind, or o f authority.
In fact, all this is if anything too well known. So much has been
published o f and about this one literary form that its relative
importance in the general field o f African oral literature has been
radically m isjudged. Far from being 'the great form in A frican
literature, as even the author o f a recent and well-informed w ork
on Africa has asserted,1 tales and other prose narratives in fact
generally .appear to be markedly less important than the majority
1 P. Bohannon, African Outline, A General Introduction, Harmondsworth,
1966, p. 137.

316

Prose

o f poetic forms, in terms o f complexity, o f the relatively lesser

specialism of their composers, and o f the assessment o f the
people themselves. T h is, however, is seldom recognized. Owing
to a series of secondary characteristics like the greater ease w ith
which prose can be recorded and the w ay the nature o f the tales
(particularly those about animals) seemed to lit certain preconcep
tions about African mentality, these stories have been published
in large numbers and have caught the public eye to the almost
total exclusion o f the often more intrinsically interesting poetry.
So much, indeed, has been published in this field that it would
be easy to write not a chapter but a book surveying the present
state o f knowledge o f this form o f African literature. But to include
too lengthy a description here o f this single form of verbal art
would inevitably present an unbalanced picture o f African litera
ture. These two chapters therefore will give only a brief summary
o f what is known about African prose narratives and the problems
o f analysis, and will concentrate on pointing to gaps in our know
ledge rather than repeating what is already known.1
1 Most of the general accounts of African oral literature devote much or most
of the space to a consideration of prose narratives, cf. e.g. Herskovits 1961;
Bascom 1964 (includes a most useful list of collections o f African stories); Berry
1961; Balandier 1956. O f the large and varied number o f general anthologies of
African stories, one could mention Seidel 1896; Basset 1903; Cendrars 1921;
C. Meinhof, Afrikamtche M&rchen, Jena, 1921; Frobenius 1921-8 (12 vols.);
Radin 1952; K . Amott, African Myths and Legends, London, 1962; Whiteley
1964. Special studies of various aspects of African stories include Klipple 1938
and M. J. and F. S. Herskovits, Suriname FoUt-lore, New York, 1936 (both
dealing with comparative study of motifs); Mofokeng 1955; Von Sicard 1965;
H. Tegnaeus, Le H bos cmilisateur, Stockholm, 1950; H. Abrahamsson, The
Origin o f Death: Studies in African Mythology, Uppsala, 1951 (studies mainly in
the Scandinavian tradition); Werner t925, 1933 (surveys content of stories,
including myths). O f the innumerable collections o f stories from single societies
or areas, the following may be mentioned as of particular interest either because
o f the collection itself or (more often) because of the accompanying discussion:
Roger t828 (Wolof); Theal 1886 (Xbosa); Chatelain 1894(Kimbundu); Cronise
and Ward 1903 (Tcmnc); Jacottet 1908 (Sotho); Junod ii, 1913, pp. 191 ff.
(Thonga); Tremeame 1913 (Hausa); Equilbecq 1913-16 (3 vols.) (West Africa);
Smith and Dale ii, 1920, ch. 28 (Ila); Torrend 1921 (Zambia); Travild 1923
(Bambara); Doke 1927, t934(Lamba); Lindblom 1928 (Kamba); Rattray t930
(Akan); Herskovits 1958(Fon); Steppers 1962(Luba); Hulstaert 1965(Mongo);
Mbiti 1966 (Kamba); Finnegan 1967 (Limba); Evans-Pritchard 1967 (Zande).
See also the excellent article by Crowley (1967) which, though specifically about
die Congo, is o f wider relevance.
For further references see General Bibliography and the useful analysis of
collections plus bibliography in Bascom 1964; it must be pointed out that the
most recent collections (often very much in popular form) are by no means all
necessarily improvements on earlier collections from the same peoples.

Prose N arratives I . Problem s and Theories

317

Because so much has been written and published over many

years, this field o f study has been particularly subject to the vicis
situdes o f anthropological theories and has reflected only too faith
fully the rise and fall o f fashions in interpretations o f African (and
prim itive) cultures. A s a result there are considerably more
misconceptions and misunderstandings to clear aw ay in the case
o f A frican prose than w ith poetry. Indeed, w hen one considers
the vast amount published it is surprising how poor m uch o f it is.
Poor, that is, in the sense that so much is based on unquestioned
assumptions and so little is said about many topics in w hich a
student o f literature w ould naturally be interested, like, for instance,
the art or originality o f the individual composer, th e nature o f the
audiences reached, the local assessment o f the relative worth or
seriousness of stories against other forms, or the position of the
story-teller himself. So for all these reasons the ready acces
sibility o f some aspects, the misunderstandings or gaps in other
respects this section, unlike most others in th e central part o f
this book, will tend to be argumentative and critical rather than
descriptive and illustrative.1
1
Something has already been said in Chapter 2 about some o f
the m any different approaches to the study o f A frican oral art.
T h ese will not all be recapitulated here, but, even at the cost of
some repetition, something further must be said about the special
case o f prose narratives; it is in this held sometimes regarded
as folklore par excellence that these various theories have found
their most fluent and extreme expression. T h e end result has too
often been to play down the literary aspect or even to explain
it away completely.
O ne o f the most influential o f these theories, dating from the
nineteenth century but casting a shadow even today, is the type
o f evolutionist interpretation o f human history and society put
forward, in various forms, b y writers like M organ, T y lo r, or Frazer.
Besides their application to the supposed unilinear evolution o f
institutions such as religion or marriage, these speculative his
torical generalizations could also be brought to bear on the nature
and history o f literature. In this field the w ord folklore became
popular as a term to describe the supposed custom s, beliefs, and
81S1S14

318

Prose

culture o f both 'early* m an and his presumed equivalents today:

contem porary 'primitive' peoples and the modem peasant, i.e. the
folk am ong whom could still, supposedly, be found traces o f the
earlier stages o f unilinear hum an evolution. W hen apparently
sim ila r custom s or beliefs could b e detected in societies otherwise
considered advanced (in th e opinion o f the analyst), then they
could b e explained as survivals, remnants o f the cruder, barbaric
stages o f th e past. Folklore even came to be defined as the
study o f survivals, with the implication that its subject-matter
(which included folktales) was basically crude, prim itive, early*,
and, in m any cases, due to old ideas passed on from previous
generations. I t was thus to quote Frazers words due to the
collective action o f the m ultitude and cannot be traced to the in
dividual influence o f great m en.1
T h e implication o f these approaches for the study o f oral litera
ture is plain. A n y type o f oral prose narrative from whatever
society could be, and was, referred to as folktale and thus treated
as a kind o f survival from an earlier and even m ore primitive
state. In this way, the aspect o f individual originality and author
ship could be played down or rather, the question o f authorship
not even raised; for once the w ord folktale was used, collective
tradition could be assumed and no question about individual
creation could arise. A further relevant assumption w as the still
com m only mentioned fact that all folktales (and thus all oral
narratives) have been handed down through generations from the
remote past, most probably in a word-perfect form . A gain, this
questionable assumption drew attention away from problems o f
authorship or o f contemporary relevance and variations, and from
questions about the actual situations in which these stories are
actually told. M oreover, because the tales could be treated as
survivals, there was felt to be no need to apply to them the normal
procedures o f literary criticism or to relate them to the contem
porary social and literary background, for this, it was assumed,
was often alien to the real content o f the stories. T h is approach
also lent encouragement to the amateur collection and publication
o f isolated unrelated snippets o f tales and proverbs; for when
the w hole idea o f the subject o f folklore was that these folk
tales w ere only scraps (survivals), there was no inducement to try
to collect them systematically. So it is that, even recently, the
1 J. G . Frazer, Folk-lore in the O ld Tettament, London, 1919, vol. i, p. vii.

P rose N arratives I . Problem s and Theories

319

journals are full o f such articles as Four proverbs and one folkstory from the Bongo Bongo, T w o folktales and a riddle from
the X Y Z s , and so on, with no attempt to relate the specimens to
any background whatsoever or even to have collected anything
more than the barest synopsis o f the plot.
B y now the evolutionist framework from which these approaches
sprang has been rejected in professional anthropological circles.
Y et in spite o f this, these assumptions about oral narratives still
linger on. W e read, for instance, in a recent collection of Hausa
stories o f the callousness o r . . . macabre type o f humour in some
stories being residues from the past, or the w ay in which their
animal and fairy stories are probably as old as the language and
perhaps even older ;1 and many other similar instances could be
cited.
T h a t these attitudes should still-be attractive is not altogether
surprising. T h e hidden implications o f the term folktale lead
one astray at the outset a good reason for giving up this otherwise
quite useful word. It is also pleasant enough to be able to con
centrate on confident assertions about the great age o f certain
stories without needing to produce evidence (the bland probably
o f the statement ju st quoted is typical here). T h is whole approach
absolves one from any systematic treatment o f the more difficult
and interesting problems.
In fret the question o f originality in oral literature is b y no
means a closed one. Contrary to the assumptions o f many writers,
the likelihood o f stories having been handed down from generation
to generation in a word-perfect form is in practice very remote.
T h is whole concept, in fact, is much more plausible in the case o f
m itten than o f oral literature. A s already remarked in an earlier
chapter, one o f the main characteristics o f oral literature is its
verbal flexibility (even more marked, perhaps, with prose than
with some types o f verse). So that even if the basic plot did, in
a given case, turn out really to date back centuries or millenia
and in one sense it is a truism that all stories (written or unwritten)
have already been told this would be only a very minor element
in the finished work o f art produced in the actual telling. T h e
verbal elaboration, the drama o f the performance itself, everything
in fact which makes it a truly aesthetic product comes from the
contemporary teller and his audience and not from the remote past.
1 Johnston 1966, pp. xxxi, satis.

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Prose

In any case, how significant is it if some o f the content is old or

derivative? Does this tempt us to ignore the literary significance
of, say, Shakespeares Othello or Joyces Ulysses? T h e explaining
away in terms o f origin o f subject-matter has really no more
justification for oral than for written literature. T o suppose
otherwise is to assume that in non-literate cultures people accept
passively the content in the narratives told them and are not
tempted to add or embroider or twist an assumption which,
as will be clear already, there is no evidence to support.

11
Evolutionist approaches, then, w ith their accompanying assump
tions about the nature o f oral prose narratives, both drew away
attention from significant aspects o f oral literature (including its
literary value) and at the same time disseminated unfounded
ideas about authorship and transmission. T h e second group o f
approaches to be discussed here has done no more than focus
attention on certain questions to the exclusion o f other equally
interesting ones. T h ese are the problems treated b y the so-called
historical-geographical or diffiisionist school w hich originated in
Finland but which also has much influence in Am erica and else
where.
T h is school asks questions about the exact historical and
geographical origins o f a particular story w ith the idea o f tracing
its journeys from one area to another. U nlike the evolutionists,
these scholars take little interest in generalized questions about
origin, or in the relative primitiveness o f different categories o f
tales. T h e y aim to reconstruct the entire life history of the tale ,
working back to the first local forms, hence to the ultimate arche
type from which they were all originally derived, in much the
same way as literary scholars trace back a series o f manuscript
traditions to their first original. A s an aid to the more effective
carrying out of this aim, various classifications have been made to
facilitate the recognition o f the same tale in m any areas so that
its biography can more easily be plotted.1 Various classifications
and indexes have been compiled, the best-known being Stith
1 See particularly Thompson 1961.

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321

Thom psons monumental M otif-index o f Folk-literature in which

the various motifs o f folktales are listed for easy reference and
comparison.1
T h is general emphasis on questions about the life history of
specific tales has been one o f the dominating influences in the
recent study o f oral prose narratives (most often referred to by
this school as folktales). M an y interesting similarities have been
discovered in the plots o f stories to be found in A frica and else
where in Europe, in Arabia (notably in the Arabian Nights), in
India, and, finally, in the N ew W orld, where they probably
travelled with African slaves. Attem pts have also been made,
following this approach, to trace the historical and geographical
origin o f tales found in A frica. Certain plots, it has been concluded,
can be reckoned as being indigenous to Africa. A n example of
this is the famous tale based oh the idea o f a tug o f w ar in which
two large animals (often the hippopotamus and the elephant) are
induced b y a smaller animal to pull against each other believing
that their opponent was really the small weak animal, w hich had
thus tricked them.2Another allegedly African m otif is that o f death*
from a false message, in w hich the wrong message is given to
mankind so that they have to undergo death instead o f living
forever.3 Other motifs, it has been argued, come from outside
A frica. T h e path o f one o f these the root m otif in which a
crocodile is misled into releasing his victim s foot when told it is
a root has been traced through India and Europe b y various
South African writers.4 O ther African motifs have been given
a polygenetic origin or still remain to be analysed. In fact, in spite
1 Thompson 1955. 'Motifs include plots, subject-matter, types o f character
and action, etc. A fairly wide definition is taken of folk literature to cover folk
tales, myths, ballads, fables, medieval romances, fabliaux, exempla, local tradi
tions, but not riddles or proverbs. Some African material is included. Similar
works primarily concerned with Africa (though conceived on a much smaller
scale) include M. J. and F. S. Herskovits, Suriname Folk-lore, New Yotk, 1936;
Klipple 1938; Clarke 1958. See also references given in Ch. 2, p. 39, and, for
collections of stories which include much comparative material along these lines,
Lindblom 1928, vols. 1-2 and Von Sicard 1965.
* K 22 in Thompson's classification (Thompson 1955). A full comparative
treatment o f this motif using the historical-geographical method is given in
Mofokeng 1955.
1 Klipple 1938, pp. 755 ff.; cf. Abrahamsson, op. cit.
4 See Mofokeng 1955, following up die D.Litt. thesis by S. C . H. Rautenbach. D ie Wording van n Siklus in die Afrikaanse Diersprokie, Witwatersrand
University, 1949 (not seen; reference in Mofokeng 1955). Unfortunately most
o f this detailed analysis of African material by scholars working at the Uni
versity o f Witwatersrand apparently remains as yet unpublished.

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o f the general influence o f this approach, not m any systematic

studies o f the life history o f m otifs in African tales have yet been
completed. Y et plenty o f preliminary material has been collected
in that many editors o f collections o f African stories have said
something about comparable motifs in Africa or elsewhere.
T h e fascination o f this approach, however, has sometimes
blinded commentators to the significance o f other aspects o f
A frican prose narratives. T h e re has again been a tendency to play
dow n the significance o f th e contemporary verbalization and per
form ance o f the story as a w hole in favour o f an attem pt to trace
back the detailed history o f certain elements o f its subject-matter.
L ocal artistry, inventiveness, and meaning are minim ized, and the
concentration focused on external origins.
T h e unbalanced nature o f this approach can be illustrated by
a specific example. T h is is a story taken from the L im ba o f Sierra
Leone. It is quite obvious to any reader that the basic plot is
a biblical one; in fact the outline plot was told to the narrator only
a few years earlier. I t is the tale o f Adam and E ve, and even the
names o f the characters in L im b a have remained m ore or less the
same. Y e t in its interpretation and telling by a L im ba story-teller,
the tale has become in almost every sense a truly Limba one.
T h is is the story as told b y a skilful Lim ba narrator in 1964. H e
opens b y asking a friend to reply to him- that is to lead the
audience participation that is so essential a part o f th e whole
process o f Lim ba story-telling.
A D A M U A N D IFU
Suri reply to me. I am going to tell a story, about when the earth
came out, how after long we were brought out, we Limba, how after
long we came to do work, how we lived. I am going to tell it this evening.
You Ycnkeni [R. F.], by your grace, you are to reply to me.
You see Kanu Masala (God), he was once up above. In the whole
world then there were no people. So Kanu Masala thought; he said,
I will take people to there. What he brought out were two human
beings one man; one woman. What were their names? T h e man he
was Adamu. The woman she was Ifu. (Ifu.)1 Ifu.
When he had brought them out, they came and lived [here]. They
spent two days and nights but they found nothing to eat. So they
went to Kanu Masala then.
1 Sun, one* of the listeners, repeats the name.

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323

We have come here to you.

Kanu asked Any trouble?
No. We the reason we have come is this: you brought us out, you
went and put us on the earth here; but we hunger! Nothing for us to
eat. Will we not die tomorrow?
Then Kanu said, 'I will give you food. Kanu came down. He came
and showed them the trees in fruit. He showed them every tree in fruit
for them to eat.
This is your food. He showed them one Dont eat this one oh!
It was like an orange; when it is in fruit it is red. Dont eat this one oh!
This is a prohibited one. You are not to eat it.
Adamu said A ll right.
They lived there for long they ate from those trees. They did no
work. They did nothing except just live there, except that when they
were hungry they went and ate.
Then a snake got up there. He came and made love with the woman,
Ifu. They travelled far in that love.
Then the snake came near, the baykSboro snake.1 He came and said
to the woman, Ifu,
Do you never eat from this tree?
Ifu said, No. We do not eat it. We were told before that we should
not eat it, it is prohibited.
Then the snake said, Oh you! That tree eat from it.
Ifu said, W e do not eat it.
Eat it) Would I lie to you? We share in love you and I. Just eat it.
There is nothing wrong about it.
Ifu said, W e do not eat it. I f we eat it we are doing something
wrong.
The snake said, 'Not at all. Just eat.
Ifu said, All right.
He picked it, he the snake. He went and gave it to Ifii.
Ifu said, You eat first.
He the snake he ate. Ifu took it. She ate one. The other one she
kept for Adamu.
When Adamu came, she came and gave it to him.
Adamu said, I will not eat this oh! We were told before that we
should not eat it.
Not at all, said Ifu.
Just eat it. There is nothing wrong about it. Adamu refused. She
implored him there. Adamu took the fruit, he ate the fruit.
Now Kanu Masala he saw this. He knew. 'Those people have broken
the prohibition I gave them.
1 A very long, red, and spotted fatal snake.

Prose

324

When they had eaten it, Adamu his heart trembled. When Kanu
Masala comes here tomorrow, this means we have done something wrong.*
When Kanu Masala came down, Adamu was hiding now when he
saw Kanu coming. He hid himself. Both of them were by now hiding
themselves (seeing Kanu Masala).' When Kanu arrived he came and
called, calling the man.
'Adamu! Adamu!*
Now Adamu was afraid to reply for he had eaten from the tree.
He called him again.
'Adamu I Adamu I
He was just a bit afraid to reply. He called
'Ifu! Iful Both of them were afraid to reply.
He called Adamu again. Adamu replied. Adamu came. He came and
asked him
Adamu. Yes?*
What made you eat from that tree really? I told you you were not
to eat it. You took, you ate it just the same. What made you eat it?
Then Adamu said, Ah, my father. It was not me. It was the woman.
She came and gave it to me Ifu. I said, I do not eat this." She said,
Just eat it. She has brought me into trouble.
Then Kanu called Ifu.
Iful Ifu!
Ifu replied, Yes ?
Come here.
Ifu came near.
He asked her, What made you give him from that tree for him to eat ?
Then Ifu said, It was not me, my father; it was the serpent who came
and gave me from the tree. He said Eat it. It is food. I refused for
long oh He said Just eat it. There is nothing wrong about it. I ate it.
What I left I came and gave to Adamu.
He called the serpent, the baykiboro snake. The baykiboro snake came.
When he had come, he asked him.
What made you give those people from that tree for them to eat?
The baykiboro snake said, 'I gave it to them, yes; there was nothing
wrong about it at all.
Then Kanu said, For you, you have not done well. I told them they
were not to eat from this tree. You came and gave it to them. You do
not want them to prosper.* It looks as if you you will be parted from
them. You will go into the bush once and for all. You will never again
come out [to live] among human beings.1 When you meet a human, you
will be killed. For you have not done well.

iiiiaafri

1 Another interjection by Suri.

1 Lit. *do not like their life*.

1 O r Limba*.

Prose N arratives /. Problem s and Theories

325

Since the baykiboro snake went off into the bush if you see a
baykiboro snake now with human beings, whenever they see each other,
they kill him. That is why they hate each other.
When the baykiboro snake had gone into the bush, then Kanu Masala
said, ,
Ifu.
Yes?
You, because you were lied to today and agreed to it, and I told you
before that you were not to have suffering but you did not agree to this
now you, you will have suffering. You will now stay behind Adamu. A ll
you women now, when you are married to a man, you will live in his
power. That is what I say. When you give birth, when you do that, you
will have suffering. That is what I say. When you work now, after the
man has cleared and hoed, you will weed. T h e nun will beat on you
there. The sun will bum you there as you think about your husbands
sauce.1 For that is what you chose. That is what you will do.
Then he said,
Adamu.
Yes?
'Because you were lied to by the woman and you agreed to it, you unit
begin to work. You will work now. When you want to get a wife you will
have to woo her. Every man will have to give wealth for long to get her.
When you have married several [wives] you will look for a house you
must build, you the man. You will have to get a farm for them to go to.
That is what I give you. For you refused to live in the good fortune
you had.
If you see now we Limba we live now to work; the sun bum s us;
the rain soaks us; hal we endure that suffering; if you want to get some*
thing to eat you have to struggle for long that began from the serpent,
the baykiboro snake. If you see that we hate each other, him and us
that is the only reason. Now the baykiboro snake, when he sees a human,
says, That man is coming to kill me ; and if you do not strengthen
yourself, you the human, he will catch you, biting you. For he was
driven out from among us. If you see how we live, we Limba, working
that was where it began.
That is it, it is finished.1
T o explain in detail how typical a Lim ba story this now is
would involve a lengthy description o f the types o f content, style,
and expression characteristic o f the genre o f oral literature the
< The wife has the responsibility o f growing or gathering the vegetables for
the sauce.
* Recorded on tape from the Limba narrator (Kaianke Dema) in February
1964, and published (in translation) in Finnegan 1967, pp. 367-70.

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L im ba call mboro.* W e can only note one or tw o points here. There

is the way in which the relationship between the snake and Eve
is assumed to be that o f love: as in so many other Lim ba stories
a w ife betrays her husband for the sake o f her lover and brings
disaster both to him and to mankind as a whole. T h is idea is by
no means confined to the Lim ba, it is true. B ut the characteristic
w ay in which it is expressed and appreciated and fits with Limba
literary conventions is so very interesting that it seems dull to
spend much time on the question o f where the content first came
from . T h e same could be said o f other characteristically Lim ba
points in the story: the use o f dialogue; the expression o f the
action through a series o f parallel episodes; the w ay in which, as so
often in Lim ba stories, a character is at first too fearful to emerge
from hiding; the stock description o f human beings left by Kanu
on earth without food and having to go and ask him for help;
and, finally, the reference at the end to the present hard fate o f the
Lim ba, about which (in certain moods) they are m uch preoccupied
the w ay they have to labour long hours in the fields, season after
season, in sun or in rain, to produce the rice w hich is their basic
sustenance. A ll these points, bare as they m ay seem on the surface,
are in fact of profound meaning to the Lim ba w ho hear and tell
the story, and possess a w hole range o f connotations and allusions
w hich would be unintelligible to one unacquainted with their cul
ture.
I f this point can be made about a story based on a plot introduced
as recently as only two years ago, how m uch more is this likely
to be true o f plots and m otifs which have supposedly spread in
the more remote past. W hatever interest the diffusionists investi
gations o f origins m ay have and they are at least more verifiable
than generalized evolutionary theories it is clear that too great
a preoccupation with this can lead, and indeed has led, to a neglect
o f other equally interesting questions about the present literary
and social significance o f this genre o f oral literature.

in
Another aspect o f the historical-geographical school o f folk
lorists' has been the interest in classification. T h e original motive
o f this is obvious. U ntil the various elements in folktales are
* See Finnegan 1967, esp. pp. 49-103.

P rose N arratives I . Problem s and Theories

327

classified for easy reference, it w ill not be possible to collect and

analyse com paratively the data necessary for tracing the life history
o f the various plots and motifs in question. Other influences from
anthropology and sociology generally have increased this desire
for classification, so that those now preoccupied with this are not
all necessarily outright adherents o f the Scandinavian school.
T h is approach is excellent u p to a point. Every subject needs
some general agreement about terminology, not least the study o f
oral prose narratives. Clarification o f the general terms here can
be most helpful, fo r instance the recent article b y Bascom1 directed
towards a definition o f myth*, legend, and folktale* as sub-types
o f the single category prose narrative*. Other classifications are
more detailed, and include such types as, say, dilemma tale*,
aetiological tale*, and so on, m any o f these deriving ultimately
from Stith Thom psons categorization.2 Such typologies have
helped to focus our attention on certain facets o f prose narratives,
to make comparisons and contrasts, and generally to become more
aware o f the potential differences in structure, content, or outlook
in various kinds o f stories.
However this can have its dangers. One point is that, in the
case o f the A frican material, it m ay be rather too early to produce
helpful typologies o f the more detailed kind. T h is at first sight
seems ridiculous when so m uch has been published in the field
o f African prose narratives. In fact, however, much o f this pub
lished material is o f questionable quality. Often w e are given
summaries or synopses o f the plot or structure, the texts them
selves have frequently been written down b y schoolboys or others
with little skill in the actual artistry o f the genre, and the final
versions have often appeared in none too dependable translations
with no comm ent at all on local classifications or attitudes. N one
o f this suggests that classifications based on such data are likely
to be very precise o r helpful. T o o often, indeed, thecollectionswhich
appear to illustrate particular classifications have themselves been
recorded and presented by collectors who have assumed in advance
that these categories have universal and natural validity.
One sim ple example o f this is th e general category o f m yth .2
In most European cultures, it seems natural to assume a distinction
1 Bascom 19656.
1 Though he himself was not trying to establish a typology.
* Discussed further below, pp. 361 ff.

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Prose

between myths (narratives, believed in some sense or other to

be true, and concerned with the origins o f things or the activities
o f deities) and folktales or ordinary stories (fictional narratives,
taken much less seriously). T h is rough classification also applies,
more or less, to the narratives o f certain non-European peoples.
But and this is the point there are also societies in which this
distinction between m yth and folktale is not observed. T h e
local people themselves m ay not recognize this classification but
rather, as in the case of several African peoples, regard both as
belonging to the same general genre of oral literature. In some of
these cases, one may be able to detect some such general distinction,
even though the people themselves are not conscious of it, even
deny it. But in others, even that basis for categorization is lacking,
and it is not possible to find any local or empirical distinction be
tween different groups o f narratives. Y et European students often
insist that there must be some such distinction, and impose their
own categories by assuming without question that they can group
together all those stories w hich have any superficial resemblance
to what they have been brought up to regard as m yth. T h is sort
o f naive assumption is not made b y the leading scholars in the
field; indeed, writers like Thom pson and Bascom have specifically
warned against it. But m any more popular adherents o f this ap
proach have been swayed b y a combination o f this kind o f typology,
and o f their own cultural traditions, so that they do not stop to ask
even whether there is any local basis at all for such a distinction
from other narratives. T h ere may be but there just as well may
not be. W hen facile assumptions about classification take the place
o f actual investigation (about, for instance, such questions as the
attitudes of teller and audience to the narration, or the detailed
subject-matter o f the different types o f stories and how they
compare), we have reached the point where easy classification
should be replaced by m ore modest research into the facts.
A further point about too much dependence on typologies here
is that this under-emphasizes one o f the most striking charac
teristics of much oral literature its flexible and unfixed quality.
T h is applies particularly in the case o f prose. In the actual narra
tion o f stories and the actual narration is what matters in oral
literature there is very often no fixed wording, and the narrator
is free to bind together the various episodes, motifs, characters,
and forms at his disposal into his own unique creation, suited to

Prose N arratives I . Problem s and Theories

329

the audience, the occasion, or the whim o f the moment. T h e same

point has been well made by* R uth Benedict in the context o f
American Indian (Zuni) stories w hen she speaks o f the need for
more intensive studies:
The usual library-trained comparative student works with standard
versions from each locality; in primitive cultures, usually one from a
tribe. This version arbitrarily becomes the tribal tale, and is minutely
compared with equally arbitrary standard tales from other tribes. But
in such a body of mythology as that o f Zuni, many different variants
coexist, and the different forms these variants take cannot be ascribed
to different historical levels, or even in large measure to particular
tribal contacts, but are different literary combinations of incidents in
different plot sequences. The comparative student may well leam from
intensive studies not to point an argument that would be invalidated
if half a dozen quite different versions from the same tribe were placed
on record.1
It is true that many collections o f African stories give th e im
pression o f fixity just because they have been written dow n and
printed. B ut in fact, in most A frican cases'that have been fully
examined, this variability o f tales according to the teller and the
occasion is one o f their most apparent characteristics.2 T h ere is
no one correct version or form. W hat on one occasion looks like,
say, a dilemma tale or a m oralizing parable (to mention tw o wellknown types) may on another, though otherwise similar in subjectmatter, look like an aetiological explanation or just a humorous
joke. Form , plot, and character m ay all equally, therefore, provide
only a shifting and impermanent foundation for classification, and
any attempt at making typologies on this basis can only result in
misconceptions about the nature o f the stories as actually told.
Altogether, then, the current interest in classification can give
a rather one-sided view of the significance o f m any prose narra
tives in A frica. T h is is particularly true when, as so often, they
are based on what turns out to be only superficially analysed
material. Largely owing to the past preoccupations o f evolutionists,
o f linguists,2 o f educationalists, and o f difhisionists, an amazingly
* R. Benedict, Zuni Mythology, New York, 1935, vol. i, p. xiii.
* See e.g. Steppers 1962, pp. 14-15 (Luba); Theal 1886, pp. vii-viii(Xhosa);
Finnegan 1967, pp. 28-31 (Limba); Evans-Pritchard 1967, pp. 32 ff. (Azande);
Junod ii, 1913, pp. 198 ff. (Thonga).
Who have in the past been naturally more interested in the provision o f texts
for grammatical and syntactical analysis than in the variations o f the spoken
versions.

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Prose

large number o f these collections have appeared w ithout any

rigorous commentary to elucidate their contemporary and local
meaning, being presented as ju st bare texts, often no m ore than
synopses o f the outline plots. Detailed studies in depth o f the
literary and social significance o f the various stories in any one
society are notably lacking. It is tim e more attention was focused
on these'aspects, and less on the comparative classification o f
stories, the tracing o f the history o f their plots, or the enumeration,
however impressive in itself, o f the quantities o f texts that have
so far been collected.

IV

T h e approaches discussed so far have mainly been those of

recent Am erican and Scandinavian scholarship, or the earlier
British approach. T h e emphasis in more recent British work is
very different. I f the diffusionist and evolutionist schools con
centrated on a few limited elements in their studies o f African
stories, the recent approach in Britain has been to ignore such
stories altogether as an independent field o f study. T h e structuralfunctional approach o f Radcliffe-Brown and others, w hich has
until ve ry recently dominated British social anthropology, is
interested in local narratives only in so far as they can be seen
to have a clear social function.
Various functions have been stated or assumed. Stories, for
instance, are told to educate and socialize children, or, b y drawing
a moral, to warn people not to break the norms o f the society.
O ther narratives in this connection always persuasively called
m yths are charters w hich serve to uphold the present structure
o f society in general, and the position o f the rulers in particular.
O thers again are said to fulfil th e function o f providing a model
through w hich people can verbalize the relationships and con
stitution o f their society. Throughout, it is the utilitarian aspect o f
oral narratives that is brought to th e fore, and little or nothing is
said, even in passing, about verbal or artistic aspects. T h e prime
concern is w ith the functioning o f society; the narrations are
assumed to be o f no serious interest in themselves.
W e ow e to this school an awareness o f the social significance o f
certain stories. A nd we are also rightty reminded o f a point over
looked b y evolutionist and diffusionist writers: that the stories

Prose N arratives I . P ro b lem and Theories

331

should be seen as part o f their own social context and not just
as survivals. B ut fo r someone also interested in the stories in
themselves, particularly in their literary impact, such an approach
in practice offers little further insight.
Obviously a literary critic is interested in social function. B ut
this, paradoxically, is not made m uch clearer for us b y the strict
functional interpretations adopted b y many recent scholars. In
such writings w e are seldom told m uch about, say, how widely
known certain m yths really are, w hen they are told, how far
(if at all) they differ in tone, context, or telling from the more
fictional tales, how far people themselves regard stories as
educative, w hat opinions are held b y the tellers on the relative
importance o f the utilitarian purpose, the attractiveness o f
subject-matter, and skill in delivery, etc.
In fact the functionalists stress the utilitarian aspect so much
but, when one comes down to it, w ith so little detailed evidence
that one begins to wonder whether their confident assertions about
a given narrations function have in fact much evidence behind
them. Doubtless certain o f these functions o f educating, upholding,
mirroring, etc., arc fulfilled b y African stories at times (just as they
are, directly or indirectly, b y many other types o f literature); but
what is needed now is further study o f the detailed ways in which
these functions in some cases are, and in others presumably are not,
fulfilled (with an awareness that there m ay well be other aspects
to stories besides the utilitarian one).
O n the one hand, then, this functional approach has not been
very illuminating for m any aspects o f African stories. It can also,
on the other, be positively misleading. F o r one thing it implicitly
insinuates the assumption that, to put it crudely, 'primitive peoples
(i.e. Africans) have no idea o f the aesthetic, and therefore the only
possible explanation o f an apparent w ork o f art, like a story, is
that it must somehow be useful. A nd, o f course, an assumption o f this
sort usually turns out to be self-verifying when the evidence is
collected and analysed according to it. A s will be clear from the
whole tone o f this book, I believe the evidence can be interpreted
differently.
Again, the functional approach focuses attention on the stable
and stabilizing nature o f both the stories and the society in w hich
they occur. T h is overemphasis on the stahis quo has been a common
criticism of the structure and function school, and it is obviously

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particularly unsuited to an analysis o f the living and creative art

o f the story-teller.
Furthermore, the functionalist publications have tended to
perpetuate the kind o f misconception discussed earlier the as
sumption that it is always possible to make a clear-cut distinction
between myths and other tales. Th ese writers tend to assume
that any stoiy which looks at all as if it could be interpreted as
a charter for society can be labelled a m yth ; the impression is
thereby neatly given to the reader that this story is widely known,
deeply believed, held different from other stories, and, perhaps,
part o f some systematic and coherent m ythology. In fact, it is
possible in a given case that none o f this may be true at all; but
just b y using the little word myth these connotations can be
conveyed without being stated or, therefore, questioned b y
either reader or writer.
L et me give an example from m y own field-work to illustrate
this point. W hen I first heard a Lim ba story about how in the old
days Kanu (God) lived w ith mankind but then withdrew in im
patience to the shy, I at first automatically classed this in m y mind
as a myth. It was easy to see its function (explaining and justifying
the present state o f things) and, like other m yths, it was pre
sumably well known and taken seriously. T h is was, it seemed,
the Lim ba myth which could be treated as the basis o f their
religious philosophy just as similar myths have been elsewhere. It
was only after recording several dozen more Lim ba stories that I
realized that this particular story was no different in style, outlook,
or occasion of telling from the clearly fictional and light-hearted
narratives about, say, a man wooing a wife or a cat plotting to eat
a group o f rats. Far from being widely known and believed, I only,
in fact, ever heard it told b y one man, who was using it as a setting
(like other stories) for his own idiosyncratic tricks o f style and
content; other people did not know it or treat it particularly
seriously on the occasions they did hear it. T h e story still, o f course,
has its own significance. But it certainly has not the clear-cut
separate status that I had wrongly assigned to it before I had a more
thorough knowledge o f Lim ba oral literature. One wonders how
many o f the narratives so easily referred to as m yths have in fact
been misclassified owing to too superficial an assessmentof the data.1
1 There is some further discussion of the applicability of the term myth to
African narratives in Ch. 13, pp. 36i f f .

Prose Narratives I . Problems and Theories

333

T h e same point could also be m ade about analyses using a simi

lar approach, though without recourse to the favourite term m yth .
Take, fo r instance, Beidelmans interpretations o f K agu ru stories
as K agu ru representations o f social reality, a kind o f sociological
model o f their society through the medium of a story.1 O ne tale
describes how Rabbit (or Hare) tricks Hyena, and is interpreted,
at first sight plausibly, as a K agu ru representation o f matrilineal
relationships. T h is may be so but w e are in fact given no solid
evidence. A s far as plot goes, m uch the same story occurs among
other A frican peoples, so that for this interpretation to stand up
we need to be given some discussion about, say, th e indigenous
and conscious interpretation o f the story itself, the K agu ru attitude
to this story (and stories in general), the contexts in w hich it is
told, and perhaps some assessment o f its relations to th e general
corpus o f K aguru oral literature. N o attempt whatsoever is made
to provide this information and it is fairly clear that Beidelman
felt no need to consider these points. Because o f th e general
attractiveness o f the neat structural-functional fram ework (of
w hich this is just one variety) the limitations and naivety o f this
and similar approaches have been overlooked.
T h e predominance o f this approach in British social anthro
pology is passing. Scholars are now realizing that, quite apart from
the actual mistakes disseminated b y this school, a concentration
on ju s t social functions and alleged contributions to social struc
ture means treating only one lim ited aspect o f oral narratives.
Prose narratives (and oral literature generally) are once again be
com ing a field o f interest in their own right. T h e influence o f the
older approach still lingers, however. For many years in Britain
it was social anthropologists w ith this interest who appeared to
hold the m onopoly in the academic assessment o f the role o f oral
narrative in Africa, and, as so often happens, their view s are gain
ing popular acceptance just as th ey are becoming less influential
in professional circles. It is partly to this influence that w e owe
the proliferation of collections o f stories with the emphasis on bare
synopsis or the moralizing element, and on references to, rather
than fu ll statements of, the m yths and legends w hich stabilize
society.
T o end this discussion o f the various approaches o f the past to
1 Beidelman 1961; also a series of other articles on similar lines by the same
author.

S161SM

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Prose

the study o f oral narratives, there is one general point that can
be made. T h is is, that all these approaches seem to have in com
mon an im plicit assumption that oral narratives in A frica (and
other non-literate cultures) can be treated in a fundamentally dif
ferent w ay from the literature o f more familiar peoples. T h e
normal questions asked b y literary critics in the case o f written
literature are brushed to one side in favour o f pursuing historical
reconstructions or assumptions about utility. N o evidence is
given that such narratives are fundamentally different from
literary narratives elsewhere this is just assumed; and th e as
sum ption made to look plausible because it is dealing w ith the
literature o f unfamiliar cultures. A n d yet, amazingly, the crucial
w ay in w hich such narratives in fact really are different their oral
quality is scarcely taken serious account o f at all.
In conclusion, it is dear that m any o f the earlier approaches to
the study o f oral narrative in A frica have in fact obscured m any
points o f interest. In addition th ey have popularized various m is
conceptions about their nature or role. T h is has been done to such
good effect that unproven or totally false speculations have been
taken as truisms. Th ere is still too general an acceptance o f such
questionable concepts as .verbal fixity, dominating significance o f
subject-matter, lack o f native imagination or inventiveness, handr
in g dow n narratives unchanged through the generations, or the
basically pragmatic role o f A frican stories. It is because o f th e w ide
prevalence o f such misleading but often im plidt theories that this
rather destructive chapter has seemed a necessary prelude to any
direct discussion o f African narratives.

13

PROSE NARRATIVES II. CONTENT

AND FORM
What is known: content and plot; main characters. Types of
tales: animal tales; stories about people; myths'; legends*
and historical narratives. What demands further study:
occasions; role of narrators; purpose and function; literary
conventions; performance; originality and authorship. Con*
elusion
A g a i n s t this background o f earlier theoretical speculations and
misunderstandings, we can now survey the present position in the
study of oral prose narration in Africa. W hat points have been
established so far? A n d what aspects now need further investiga
tion?
l

First, the basic material. O f actual texts, synopses, and transla

tions o f African narratives w e have a vast amount. Bascom, in his
indispensable survey,1 lists forty-one'peoples for whom collections
o f fifty or more tales with vernacular texts had been published by
1964. H e adds a further list o f forty-nine groups for which collec
tions o f at least fifty tales have appeared in translation (with fewer
African texts), and'further collections are appearing all the time.2
These collections are o f very variable quality. It is often not
made clear how they were recorded on tape, from dictation, b y
1 Bascom 1964.
* The question of the total number of African stories is sometimes canvassed.
Numbers like 5,000, 7,000, or (for unrecorded as well as recorded tales) even
200,000 have been mentioned (Herskovits i960 (1946), pp. 443-4). But this is
hardly a fruitful question; it is not even in principle possible to count up items
of oral art when it is the actual narration that matters and there are thus an
infinite number o f ways in which the same plot can be presented and varied to
become a new and unique narration. Similarly, those who aim at the complete
recording of all the oral literature of a given people every little bit of this
vernacular os Mbiti for one hopes (Mbiti 1959, p. 253) are setting themselves
an impossible goal.

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the tellers themselves, or even written by hired schoolboys who

are often unskilled in the local arts o f story-telling and certainly
not experienced in the near impossible task o f transforming the oral
art form into the medium o f the written w ord. T h e resulting texts
are often little more than abstracts or summaries o f the plots a
perfectly adequate source when all one w ants to consider is the
origin o f the plot or its relevance for social structure or education,
but clearly quite inadequate for analysis in depth. W hen only
translations are given, there are additional difficulties. T h e prob
lems involved in any translation, let alone from a totally un
familiar culture, are* o f course notorious not that this has
deterred some collectors from going through a double process o f
translation prior to the publication of their collections.1 But quite
apart from this there is the added point that when none o f the
original texts is provided it is not possible even for someone who
knows the language to check the basic trustworthiness of the trans
lation in the most literal terms. It is often quite impossible to assess
how close these translations are to the original texts or whether,
as perhaps happens rather often, they are only paraphrases or even
touched-up and rewritten versions. W hat is really needed by now is
less emphasis on collecting more and m ore texts and much more
on rigorous and explicit standards in recording and translating.
Using these many available texts, however, it has at least been
possible for scholars to establish the very great similarities in
African stories from all parts o f the continent.2 T h is includes
similarity in plots, in motifs, and to some extent in characters.
O nly a few instances can be quoted, but these can be followed up
in general works on African stories.3
As far as the outline o f the plot goes, m any o f the resemblances
are striking. Beyond this, however, there are many differences
both o f detail and o f general treatment. T h u s one o f the most
1 e.g. Herskovitss Dahomean stories which were apparently first translated
(during the actual flow of the story) from Fon into'French by local interpreters,
taken down on typewriters by the Herskovitses, and finally published in English
(see Herskovits 1958, p. 6). How much of the indefinable literary qualities o f the
stories could survive such treatment can be left to the reader to imagine.
1 And not just from Bantu Africa as sometimes suggested.
1 e.g. Berry 1961; Lindblom 1928 (see comparative notes in vols. i and ii);
Herskovits i960 (1946) and M . J. and F. S. Herskovits, Suriname Folk-lore,
New York, 1936; Wright i960 (a short and specialized but useful article);
Werner 1933 (Bantu). Also (unpublished) Mofokeng 1955; Klipple 1938;
Clarke 1958.

Prose Narratives I I . Content and Form

337

common plots is the tug o f w ar into which a small animal induces

tw o larger ones to enter in th e b elief that they are pulling against
him. T h e small animal involved, however, is not everywhere the
same. It m ay be to mention only a few instances a hare (e.g.
Ila, Shona, Bemba, and many other peoples o f Central Africa),
a spider (Lim ba, Tem ne, and others in parts o f W est Africa),
a mouse (Tetela in Congo), a tortoise, (M pongwe and others
in W est Equatorial Africa and coastal area o f W est Africa),
or, in the related American version, Brer Rabbit. T h e tw o large
animals w ho are tricked are m ost commonly an elephant and a
hippopotamus, but a rhinoceros is also sometimes mentioned.1
Another common plot describes the aggressor out-tricked: an
animal tries to kill his rescuer but is outdone by a third character
who persuades him to re-enter the trap as a demonstration o f the
truth o f the story, and leaves or kills him there. A m ong the various
characters involved are: for the aggressor-^-a snake, leopard, or
crocodile; for the rescuer (the potential victim) a child, baboon,
gazelle, water antelope, rat, or white man; for the w ily character
who foils the aggressor a jackal, hare, pygm y antelope, or
spider.2 Similar points could be made with m any other plots,
b y no means all of them to do w ith animals. T h ere is the story also
familiar from the Arabian Nights: three men co-operate to revive
the girl they all love, each w ith magic objects to help them ; in
the various versions these include, for instance, a casket o f dreams,
a mirror, or a telescope to see her danger from afar; a m agic arrow,
a skin, or a hammock to travel instantly to her side; and a snuff
box, switch, or magic medicine to bring her back to life.3 Again,
there are the many tales about the origin o f death w hich centre
round the message sent b y G o d endowing mankind w ith life, the
right messenger being superseded or outstripped, and a second
messenger bringing the w rong message that o f death. But the
actual messengers named, the title o f G od, and even the exact
framework take different form s in different areas.4A nother common
On the distribution of this tale see Herskovits i960 (1946), p. 448; Mofokeng 1955, ch. 2.
1 T h e actual instances cited are from the Hottentot, Kgatla, Yao, Tetela,
Limba, and Ghana i.e. from South, Central and West Africa respectively.
For further instances see Klipple 1938, pp. 178 if.
* On the distribution of this plot see e.g. Werner'1960, p. 249; Berry 1961,
p. 10; Klipple 1938, pp. 490 ff.
* See, among other sources, H. Abrahamsson, The Origin o f Death: Studies
in African Mythology, Uppsala, 1951, csp. ch. 2; Klipple 1938, pp. 755 ff.

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m otif is what could b e called a build-up story in that the hero,

sometimes a young boy, sometimes an animal, gradually acquires
m ore and more valuable objects by, say, trading, exchange, or
refusal to fight unless given his wish. Finally he reaches the
pinnacle o f any mans desires, in some versions followed by the
anti-clim ax o f losing the precious object and being back where he
started.1
Rather than prolonging this list indefinitely, two versions o f the
same plot may be quoted to illustrate how m uch they may in
fact differ in tone and character even when the subject-matter
seems very close. T h e plot offers explanations for the w ay birds
o f prey swoop down and carry off chickens from the mother hen.
A ccording to the story, this is in return for a debt the hen owes
from the old days. In both cases the version given is chosen for
its brevity; many longer Stories have been recorded from each
society.
First, a version from the K iku yu o f East Africa, recorded by
Cagnolo w ho had spent m any years in the area.
TH E V U L T U R E A N D TH E H EN
Long ago the hen and the vulture used to live on excellent terms,
helping each other at any time they needed a hand to procure their
domestic necessities.
One day the hen thought o f borrowing a razor from the vulture, to
shave the little ones. T h e shaving was already much overdue, but it
couldnt be helped, because she had no razor, and was depending on the
kindness of her neighbours. So the hen went to see the vulture and said:
Dear vulture, I should like to borrow your razor; mine was lost months
ago. M y little ones are looking very ugly, and also very untidy, with
their long unkempt hair overgrown.
T h e vulture listened to the hen with great concern and, after a short
silence, said: Dear hen, I cannot refuse you this favour. To-morrow
perhaps I might need your help as well, and we must help each other.
However, you must remember one thing. You know what that razor
means to me. I have no other income except the rent o f that razor; that
is to say, that razor is my field, whence I get my daily food. I do not
1 Klipple 1938, pp. 688 ff. Examples and discussion of other variants of the
accumulation or ritomelle story in Africa are given in A. Werner, A Duruma
Tale of "T h e old woman and her pig* , Bantu Studies a, 1923; cf. also Berry
1961, p. 9.

Prose Narratives I I . Content and Form

339

intend to ask you any fee as I do with others; but please be careful to
return it to me, as soon as you have finished your shaving.
Thank you, brother vulture, I quite understand what you say, and
I am very grateful to you. Ill bring it back very soon.
The hen was very glad of the favour, and as soon as she arrived home,
made arrangements to be shaved by another woman. The following
morning she also shaved her two litde ones, so that the whole family, was
now shining like the moon. The work over, instead of immediately
returning the razor to the owner, she put it in a .leather purse, which
was hanging in a comer o f the hut.
The days passed, and passed away like the water under the bridge,
but the hen never thought again of returning the razor to the vulture.
She forgot it completely. The vulture grew impatient, and deeply re
sented in his heart the unkindness, nay, the ingratitude of the hen.
Pressed by necessity, he decided to go personally to the hen and demand
his razor.
Oh dear vulture, said the hen with confusion and great regret,
'forgive me; I am so sorry for this my negligence. I really intended to
return your razor very soon, but I put* it in my leather bag, and forgot
it completely. Let me go and take it; you will have it in half a
minute.
Yes, I know you are a forgetful creature; but look at the damage
you have caused me. You have deprived me of my sustenance for many
days. Mind you, if you have lost it, you will pay for it and very dearly,
said the vulture, l ir e hen rushed into the hut to fetch the razor. She
plunged her hand into the leather bag, but alas I it was empty; there was
no razor in it. She was very shocked at the unpleasant discovery. She
started searching on the floor to see if by chance it had dropped from
the bag, but there was no finding it. She looked under the childrens
bed, near the fire stones, in the store; but there was no sign of it. Tired
and defeated, she came out and, imploring, said: '0 dear friend and
master, I cant find it. Have mercy on me! I will search better; I am
ready to demolish my hut altogether, and search diligently until I find
it and return it to you.
'I told you to be very careful, and I repeat it again: I want my
razor back! But mind, I want the very one I gave you, and no
substitute.
The poor hen spent all the day searching and searching, but nothing
came to light. She demolished her hut, and started searching in the
roof-grass, among the rubble o f the walls, between the poles, in the
ashes, and even in the rubbish pit; but nothing was found.
The following day the vulture came to see the results o f the searching.
He found the hen still scratching the ground among a heap of dry grass
and ox dung; but no razor was yet discovered.

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Prose

*1 am very sorry, dear ben, said the vulture, but now I cannot wait
any longer without compensation for my razor. For to-day you must
give me a chicken. To-morrow I will return and see what has happened
in the meantime.
So the vulture flew away with a chicken gripped within his talons
under its breast. The following day he returned to the hen. She was
still scratching the ground; but she could not see any razor. Another
chicken went with the vulture. And the same happened in the following
days until to-day. That is the reason why the hen is always scratching
the ground, and the vulture swooping on chickens even in our days. The
hen is still searching for the razor, and the vulture compensating himself
for its loss.1
T h e second instance is one o f the stories I recorded among the
Lim ba o f Sierre Leone.2
T H E F IN C H , T H E E A G L E , A N D T H E H EN
The finch, a small bird, once borrowed money from the eagle's grand
father. He borrowed that money.
Now the eagle (he died) leaving his children alone. But he left
a message with them: 'Your grandfather had money borrowed from
him by the father of the finch.
Since he (i.e. his family) had lent the money, the (young) eagle spent
a long time looking for the finch. He looked and looked; but he could
not find him.
One day he went and sat down where they pound the rice. He was
sitting there. When he saw the hen standing there, eating the rice,
he asked her:
Oh, hen.
Yes?
What are you doing here?
I am getting my food.
Do you know whereabouts the finch is ? Hes the one Im looking for.
He made use of my fathers property. I want him to return it. . . .* Do
you think I will be able to find the finch ?
Yes, you can find him.
* From C. Cagnolo, Kikuyu Tales, Afr. Studies 12, 1953, pp. 129-31.
1 Recorded on tape from the public telling of the story in February 1961 and
given here in a fairly close translation. The original text is given in R. Finnegan,
The Limba of Sierra Leone, D.Phil. thesis, University of Oxford, 1963, iii,
pp. 488-9.
* The speaker, apparently by mistake, interpolated a few sentences about the
hen which should clearly have come later and are omitted. This particular
narrator was by no means distinguished as a story-teller.

Prose Narratives I I . Content and Form

341

Well, how can I find him?

'When people get up to go and pound the rice, if you go there and
you hide you will find the finch there.1
T h e eagle got there. He went and hid. The finch alighted and began
to pick at the ground, searching for his food. The eagle swooped down.
AhI you! What a long time I have spent looking for you. Now here
you are today. Today you will have to give me back the property your
family took.
What? asked the finch. Eagle?
Y es?
Who told you where I was?
T h e hen.
It was the hen that told you ?
Yes.
Oh! dear! (said the finch) W e have both been having trouble then.
I ha! I have been looking for the hen here but could not find her. And
all the time you have been looking for me and could not find mel Since
the hen was the reason you found me, thats why I am going to give her
to you now.
(The eagle did not believe the finch.)1
Havent you seen my house (then)?
He (still) did not believe.
Eagle (said the finch).

Yes?

Come on.
T h ey went. They went and stood near the wall (where the finch
lived).
Here is where you can tell that my grandfathers owned her (the hen)
as a slave. As for the hen-family just look here at where my children
sleep. You cant find any leaves there, can you, only feathers.1*3
When they got there the eagle went and looked. He saw the hens
feathers. He turned them over and over and over. He could only see
feathers.
Yes, finch. You spoke the truth. Well then let there be no quarrel
between us (two).
I will give you the hen-family, my slaves.
That is why hens are carried off by eagles. That is the story. It is
finished.4
1 T h e finch, like the hen earlier, goes to pick among the grain.
1 This was dear in the actual narration, though not in the words.
* T h e finch proves1 that the hen is his property by showing that his nest is
lined with hens feathers for his children to sleep on.
4 The same general framework is used in several other Limba stories, e.g.
two included in Finnegan 1967, pp. 334-6.

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Prose

T h e difference between th e two stories is more than merely a

matter o f translators style. B oth tales give an aetiological explana
tion o f the present misfortunes o f chickens and trace this back to
a debt (or alleged debt) b y the h e n ; but the framework, the detailed
course o f the plot, even the im plied evaluations of the characters
are very different. T h e subject-m atter and literary structure of
each story can only be fully appreciated (as distinct from appearing
as a catalogue item) w ith a detailed knowledge o f the social and
literary experience from w hich it springs. Indeed, the treatment
and impact o f stories based on the same plot or m otif can vary
considerably, even in the same society, if told by a different in
dividual or even, in some cases, by the same individual on dif
ferent occasions.1 A ll this, too, is not to mention the aspect o f actual
performance which, it is w orth repeating, cannot come across at
all in a w ritten version, but m ay appear on the actual occasion o f
telling as the most noticeable distinguishing characteristic o f the
story.
E ven if the great similarity in plots gives a slightly misleading
impression o f the degree o f cultural uniformity actually involved,
this information does throw some light o f a limited kind on the
sorts o f plots which have w ide popularity and the continually
recurring situations which are th e subjects o f so m any African
stories throughout the 9ontinent.2
Characters o f African stories also recur throughout the continent.
M ost familiar o f all are the animals, particularly the w ily hare,
tortoise, spider, and their larger dupes. B ut there are also many
stories about people, ordinary and extraordinary, some about
legendary heroes or ancestors, and a few w hich recount the actions
o f various supernatural beings. T h e y are also occasionally woven
round other personified objects like, say, the parts o f the body,
vegetables, minerals, the heavenly bodies, or abstractions like
hunger, death, or truth. T h ese various characters do not usually
appear in strictly separate cycles, but in many cases are depicted
as interacting among them selves: thus a story m ainly about
animals m ay introduce a hum an being or even G od as one o f the
1 See e.g. Finnegan 1967, pp. 93 ff. and 347 ff., for instances o f the effects o f
different narrators and occasions among the Limba; and E. E. Evans-Pritchard,
Variations in a Zande Folk-tale, J . A fr. Language* 3, 1964 for versions of the
same* story among the Azande.
* For further references see p. 336 n. 3. On plots in Bantu stories, sec
especially Werner 1933.

Prose Narratives I I . Content and Form

343

figures, or a human hero can be shown as succeeding through his

magical powers in speaking with and enrolling the help o f various
animals. T h e same general plots may be centred round different
types of characters in different areas, or even on different occasions
in the same society. In Lam ba stories, to cite just one instance, the
exploits o f the little-hare and o f a curious little human being,
K antanga. . . are very much the same.1 In other cases it m ay be
rather ambiguous whether the central figure is really animal or
really human, and it m ay appear in different guises on different
occasions. T h e K iku yu Wakahare, for instance, appears sometimes
as a squirrel, sometimes as a human, the Zande trickster is called
spider but envisaged as a man, while the famous Zulu equivalent
o f T om T h u m b and Jack the G iant K iller rolled into one,
uHlakanyana, is usually a tiny clever boy, but in other contexts
appears as a weasel.2
In spite o f such overlapping between the appearance o f these
various characters, it is convenient to discuss the various types
of stories b y differentiating them roughly in terms o f their main
characters. W e w ill thus discuss in turn stories based mainly on
animal characters, on human characters, and finally on historical
and on supernatural beings o f one kind o r another (myths'). T h a t
it is not possible to regard these general types as dear-cut cate
gories will be clear both from the w ay the characters overlap and
from the general remarks in the previous chapter on the difficulties
o f producing clear typologies in the case o f such flexible and
variable material. T h is indeed is w h y the material has been
presented in a single chapter here rather than as separate
chapters under the popularly acceptable headings o f animal
stories, myths, legends, etc. However, in view o f the nature o f
the sources available and fo r mere convenience o f discussion,
w e can speak o f animal tales, tales about people, and so on, at
the same tim e insisting that in view o f the overlapping and
impermanence o f any given story, these must not be regarded
as categories in any generally valid typology o f African narratives.
1 Doke 1934, P- 3S8.
1 C. Cagnolo, Kikuyu Tales, A ft. Studies i t - i z , 19^2-3; Evans-Pritchard
1967, p. 23 (and cf. A. Kroncnberg, JoLuo Tales, Kush 8, i960, p. 237, on
characters in Nilotic tales); E. J. Krige, The Social System of the Zulus, Pieter
maritzburg, 1936, p. 346 (cf. Jacottet 1908, p. xxvii).

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ii
W hen we consider the m any animal tales that have been collected
from Africa, the main factor that has struck most observers is
the great emphasis on animal tricksters small, wily, and tricky
animal* who cheatand outdo the larger and m ore powerful beasts.
T h ey trick them in a pretended tug o f war, cheat them in a race,
deceive them into killing themselves or their own relations, gobble
up their opponents food in pretended innocence, divert the punish*
ment for their own misdeeds on to innocent parties, and perform
a host o f other ingenious tricks.
T h e actual author o f these exploits varies in different areas.
Among most o f the Bantu peoples it is the little hare, an animal
that also occurs as a main character in som e o f the savannah areas
o f West Africa; as Brer Rabbit he also appears in similar stories
in the N ew W orld.1 T h e spider2 is the main character in most of the
forest regions o f W est A frica, particularly in the westerly parts
including Ghana, Ivory Coast, and Sierra Leone; he also comes
into Hausa stories to d ie north, L uo and Zande tales in Central
Africa, and corresponds to Annancy in the W est Indies, a name
that directly recalls the Ghanaian Ananse, the Akan spider. T h e
tortoise predominates in th e easterly regions o f the west coast, in
an area extending at least from the Y oruba o f Nigeria across to
the Fang and others of W est Equatorial A frica. T h e tortoise also
comes into other areas in a lesser w ay; among the Ila o f Zambia,
to give one example, the main cycle o f tales are about Sulwe, the
hare, but there are also a number about Fulw e, the tortoise. There
are also a few other favourite trickster characters who occur often
enough in stories but without any clear-cut geographical domain t the
little antelope, often portrayed as innocently ingenious; the squirrel
(e.g. in many Limba, K ikuyu, and Luba stories); the wren (in Luba
tales); and a few with m ore purely local reference: the small weasel
who appears among the Zulu and Xhosa, most often apparently per
sonified as a small boy; and the jackal trickster in Hottentot animal
stories, as well as in some Zulu, Xhosa, and Sotho tales.2
1 On the hare, see L . Frobenius, Dot unbekannte Afrika, MUnchen, 1923,
p. 131.
1 On the distribution of spider stories see, among other accounts, V. Maes,
'De Spin, Aequatoria 13, 1950.
1 On the jackal, see Bleek 1864, part 1; Jacottet 1908, p.xxvii. The jackal may
also occur in stories in some northerly areas of Africa, but the older assumptions,

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T h o u gh all these trickster figures tend to get up to the same

kinds o f tricks in story a fter story, they cannot altogether be as
similated to each other. T h e spider, for instance, though often
w ily, is also, in some areas at least, depicted as stupid, gluttonous,
boastful, and ineffective, not infrequently outdone b y his own
wife. T h e re are also instances o f the same image being applied to
the tortoise.1 On the other hand, the sly effectiveness o f the hare
is what w e notice in most Bantu tales. A ll these tricksters, however,
are adaptable. T h ey are able to turn any situation, old or new, to
their advantage. T h e tortoise, w e are told, now aspires to white
collar status in Southern Nigeria and attends adult education
classes,2 while the spider Ananse referees football m atches among
the A shanti in Ghana.2
Besides the leading animal figures, there are also m any others
w ho com e into the tales in secondary roles. Som e o f the stock
characters associated with them are common to many areas: the
lion, strong and powerful but not particularly bright; the elephant,
heavy, ponderous, and rather slow ; the hyena, the type o f brute
force and stupidity, constantly duped by the little quick animals;
the leopard, untrustworthy and vicious, often tricked in spite of
his cunning; the little antelope, harmless and often clever; the
larger deer, stupid and slow and so on. (N ot all these occur in all
regions or all stories in exactly the same way.) Surprisingly, other
animals the zebra, buck, or crocodile seldom occur, or, if they
do, tend to come in just as animals and not as the personified
characters presented by those already mentioned.4 O ne final and
rather different animal character that must be mentioned is the
mantis in Bushman tales. H e is the favourite hero in Bushman nar
ratives, and though he shares some o f the qualities sometimes
attributed to tricksters (powerful and foolish, m ischievous and
kind), his supernatural associations and the unusual type o f action
which saw this as part of a wider scheme in which the jackal was the typical
trickster among the so-called Hamites (supposed to cover Hottentots as well
as certain North Africans), are no longer tenable, and the significance of the
jackal in the north may have been exaggerated to fit the theory.
1 e.g. among the Kalahari. See the analysis of this in Horton 1967.
* Berry 1961, p. 14.
1 J. H . Nketia, Folklore of Ghana, The Ghanaian 1, 1958, p. 21.
* This is pointed out by W . James in her unpublished B.Litt. thesis,
Animal Representations and their Social Significance, with Special Reference
to Reptiles and Carnivores among Peoples o f Eastern Africa, Oxford, 1964,
p. 2IS-

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animal

in these stories set him rather apart from leading

characters
in narratives elsewhere in A frica.
W ith few exceptions, these animals are portrayed as thinking
and acting like human beings, in a human setting. T h is is some
times brought out by the terminology, like the personal prefix used
in Sotho to turn the ordinary form of, say, lion (tau) into a personal
form (motau M r. Lion),1 or the class o f honorific plural in Lam ba
w hich makes an ordinary animal term into a personal name
M r. Blue-Snake.2 In other cases no grammatical change is or
needs to be made. T h e animals act like human characters, ex
periencing human emotions. A nd yet the fact that th ey are also
animals is not altogether lost sight of. T h is can be exploited either
through grammatical forms, like th e alternation in Zande stories
between animal and personal pronouns,3 or through allusions to
the animals characteristic cry, appearance, or behaviour to add to
the w it or incongruity o f the presentation. In a L im b a tale, for
instance, a spider is shown taking o ff his cap, gown, and trousers
in a vain attempt to placate his m agic pot; in th e story he is
unquestionably like a man albeit an absurdly foolish man with
a house, w ife, and human garb, b u t the fact that he is, nevertheless,
a spider struggling w ith all these clothes adds just the extra under
stated touch in the telling w hich makes the whole story very funny.
M a n y o f these stories are light-hearted, even satirical, and centre
round th e tricks and .competitions o f the hare, spider, or their
friends, set in a wide range o f adaptable and adapting situations.
B ut there are also more serious themes. One common form is a
story ending up w ith a kind o f moral, sometimes in the form o f
a w ell-know n proverb. T h e listeners are told that th ey can learn
a lesson from the experiences o f the animals in the tale that, say,
one should not be rude to ones mother-in-law, that mens words
are m ore weighty than womens, that strangers should be treated
well, that it is ill-advised to oppress the weak, or even that de
termination sometimes trium phs over virtue. In some places too,
Christian morals are specifically introduced.4 In such narrations
the moral element sometimes seems to form the core o f the story,
so that w e could appropriately term it a parable rather than a
*
*
*
*

Smith and Dole ii, 1910, p. 339.

C . M . Doke, Lamba Folk Tales Annotated*, Bantu Studies 13, 1939. P- 95 .
Evans-Pritchard 1967, p. 16.
e.g. among the Luba (Stappero >962, p. 14).

Prose Narratives I I . Content and Form

347

straightforward story. But in other cases, sometimes even those

from the same area or teller, the moral seems no more than a kind
o f afterthought, appended to give the narration a neat ending.
Another very com m on framework is that in w hich an explanation
is given for some present behaviour seen in the world, or a known
characteristic o f some animal or bird. For example, to cite a few
titles at random from one society (Ila o f Zambia), w e have stories
about how the Ringdove came by its ring, how Ringdove got her
name, how Squirrel robbed Coney o f his tail, how Squirrel and
Jackal became distinct, how Skunk cam e to be a helper o f man, w hy
Duiker has a fine coat and particoloured tail, w hy Zebra has no
horns, w hy there are cracks in Tortoises shell and so on.1
These aetiological themes are not ju st confined to animal stories
but can occur in all types o f African tales. However, they seem to
be a particularly popular and fertile theme when the main charac
ters are animals, and some striking animal characteristic, well
known to the listeners from their ow n observation, can be w ittily
explained in the story. N ot all the aetiological tales are equally
humorous and light-hearted. A few explain more serious matters:
in these cases the animals are often depicted as interacting w ith
humans or w ith G o d as well as w ith other animals; they explain,
for instance, the origin o f murder, o f death, or o f chiefship.
A n explanatory ending, in fact, can apparently be tacked on to
almost any plot as a pleasing framework and conclusion fitting
in with current literary conventions once again, we see that
animal trickster stories, aetiological tales, or even 'myths are not
mutually exclusive types but m erely favourite themes which m ay
or m ay not be combined in any one story. A n example o f the nonessential nature o f the aetiological conclusion can be seen from
the following K iku yu tale where the explanation at the end sounds
very much like an afterthought.
TH E H YE N A , W A K A H A R E, AN D T H E CROW
One day a Hyena went together with Wakahare to collect honey in the
forest, where men used to hang their beehives from the trees. Wakahare
climbed the tree, extracted big lumps o f combs full of honey from a
beehive, and when he was satiated, said to the Hyena: Open your
mouth and I will drop some honey into it. The Hyena did so and
1 Smith and Dale ii, 1920, ch. 28.

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swallowed the honey with great pleasure several times, until she was
also satisfied. Then Wakahare left the tree and returned to the ground.
He asked the Hyena: How did you enjoy the honey?
Very, very much, what bliss, my dear friend.
'But remember, said Wakahare, this is a kind of sweetness that
must not be evacuated from your body.
Yes, I think it must be so; but how can one prevent it from going
out?
Ill tell you what to do. I will stitch your orifice together with your
tail and you may be sure that no sweetness will come out.
'Good, my friend, do it for me, please. Wakahare fetched a few sharp
thorns and stitched the orifice with the tail of the Hyena and went off.
After some time the Hyena felt a terrible urge to evacuate. She looked
around for help, but nobody was to be found. A t last a Jackal happened
to pass thereat. Oh, dear friend Jackal, said the Hyena, come please,
and help me.
What can I do for you, dear friend?
Please, release a little bit the stitches which are at the neck of my
tail. I cannot bear it any longer.
Sorry, my friend, I am unable to do that. I know you have diarrhoea
habitually, and dont want to be splashed with a discharge of that kind.'
And so saying, he went on. After some time a Serval arrived on his way
to the forest. The Hyena beseeched him for help.
Sorry, Mrs. Hyena, you are very prone to discharge violently, said
the Serval, I dont want to be buried under your excrements. He too
went his way without looking back. Later on a Hare passed by. The
Hyena asked again for help, but to no avail.
I am very sorry, the Hare said, dont you see how clean I am? I am
going to a feast. I dont want to soil my dress and get untidy for your
dirty business. He too went his way leaving the Hyena groaning and
tossing on the ground on account o f the pain she was suffering. A t last,
a Crow perched on a tree nearby. Looking down at the Hyena lying
still on the grass, he thought she was dead, and began to foretaste a good
meal: but as he was planning what to do next, the Hyena opened her
eyes and seeing the Crow on the tree, said: Oh dear Crow, dear friend
of mine, help! help! please. The Crow left the tree and approached the
Hyena. What is the matter with you ? he asked.
Oh please, release a bit the stitches in my tail. I am dying of the
urge of my body and I cannot evacuate.
You say dying; dying?'
Yes, help me please.
But you see, I am only a bird with no paws. How can I help you with
that business?
Oh dear, try as much as you can and you will succeed.

Prose Narratives II. Content and Form

349

I doubt very much, and besides that I am very hungry. I have no

strength to do any work. ,
O nonsense I M y belly is full of meat. You will eat to-day, to-morrow,
and the day after to-morrow and be satiated. On hearing that, the Crow
set himself to think and after a little while derided to see what he could
do. With his strong bill he succeeded in extracting the first thorn, and
truly, two small pieces of meat fell on the ground. T h e bird devoured
them very greedily, and encouraged by the success, began to tackle
the job seriously. After great effort he succeeded in extracting the
second thorn, but alas! a burst o f white excrement gushed forth with
such vehemence, that the poor Crow was cast back ten feet and was
buried head and all under a heap of very unpleasant matter. The shock
was so great, that he remained buried for two days, until a great shower
o f rain washed the ground, freeing the Crow of the burden. He remained
a full day basking in the sun and regaining strength. He was so weak
that he could not fly. The Crow was washed by the heavy rain, but his
neck remained white. That is the reason why crows to-day have a white
collar in their plumage. The Crow very much resented the alteration
o f his plumage and derided in his heart to take revenge.
One day he heard that the hyenas had arranged for a great dance in
a thicket he knew very well. He cleaned himself with great care in the
morning dew, put on a beautiful string made o f scented roots and pro
ceeded to the meeting place. On his arrival he was greeted by the hyenas
and several of them asked him to give them some of those little pieces
of meat he wore around his body. They took his ornamental beads to be
meat. He refused to give any of the beads away, but rising on his feet
with an air of dignity, he said: 'M y dear friends, forgive me this time,
I cannot give away this kind of meat, which is specially reserved for our
kinship, but I promise you a great quantity o f good meat and fat if you
follow me to the place I am going to show you.
Where is it? they asked very anxiously.
You see, we birds fly in the air and our deposits of food are not on
earth, but on high for safetys sake. Look up at the sky and see how
many white heaps of fat we usually store there. Thats where you will
find meat and fat in great quantity. The hyenas gazed up to the sky
and asked: But how can we get there?
I will show you. You can reach there very easily. Now, let us make
an appointment. The day after to-morrow we will meet here again. Tell
your people, old and young, men and women to come here with baskets
and bags; there will be meat and fat for all. On the day appointed the
hyenas came in great numbers. I think the whole population was there.
T h e Crow arrived in due time. He started by congratulating the crowd
on their punctuality, and with great poise said: M y dear friends, listen
now how we are going to perform the journey to the place of meat and
s u is it
Aa

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plenty. You must grapple one another by the tail, so as to form a long
chain. T h e first o f the chain will hold fast to my tail.
There was a general bustle among the hyenas, but after a few moments
all were in order. A t a given sign, the Crow began to fly, lifting the
hyenas one by one till they looked like a long black chain waving in the
air. After some time he asked: 'Is there anybody still touching ground ?
T h e hyenas answered: 'No, we are all in the air. He flew and flew up
into the sky for a long time and asked again: What do you see on
earth? D o you see the trees, the huts, the rivers?
W e see nothing but darkness, they answered. He flew again for
another while and then said to the hyenas nearby: 'Now, release for
a while, that I may readjust my ornaments.
'But dear friend, how can we do it ? We will surely fall down and die.
'I cant help it. If you dont release me, I will let go my tail, I am sure
the feathers will grow again.
Oh dear friend, dont, please dont for your mothers sake, we would
die, all of us. The Crow would not listen at all. He thought the time
had come for his revenge. W ith a sharp jerk he turned to the right. The
feathers of his tail tore out, and with them the long chain of hyenas.
They fell heavily on the ground and died. One of them escaped with
a broken leg. She was pregnant and so saved the kinship from total
destruction. That is the reason why hyenas these days limp when they
walk.1
O ne o f the obvious points in these stories is ju st the sheer
entertainment afforded b y the description of the amusing antics o f
various animals, and they are often told to audiences o f children.
T h e fact that most o f the animals portrayed are well known to the
audience their appearance, their behaviour, their calls, so often
amusingly imitated ,by the narrator adds definite w it and signi
ficance that is lost w hen rendered for readers unfamiliar w ith this
background. T h e gentle, shy demeanour o f the gazelle, the pon
derous tread o f an elephant, the chameleons protuberant eyes, or
the spiders long-legged steps are all effectively conveyed and
provide a vivid and often humorous picture for those present. It is
true that the imagery associated with the animal figures in tales
hardly matches that implied in other contexts (praise songs, for
instance).2 B ut on a straightforward and humorous level the
1 C . Cagnolo, Kikuyu Tales, Afr. S tu d ietti, 1952, pp. 128-9. Even clearer
instances of the sometimes peripheral nature of aetiological conclusions is pro
vided by Limba stories where, even in the same plot, an explanation sometimes
appears, sometimes not.
As pointed out by James, op. cit., p. 216.

Prose Narratives I I . Content and Form

351

animals that appear in the stories can be appreciated and enjoyed

for their amusing antics or their vivid portrayal by the narrator.
But there is more to be said than this. O n another level, what is
often involved in the animal stories is a comment, even a satire,
on human society and behaviour. In a sense, when the narrators
speak o f the actions and characters o f animals they are also repre
senting human- faults and virtues, somewhat removed and de
tached from reality through being presented in the guise o f
animals, but nevertheless with an indirect relation to observed
human action. A s Sm ith writes o f the Ila, in words that can be
applied far more widely:
In sketching these animals, not Sulwe and Fulwe [Hare and Tortoise]
only, but all the animals in these tales, the Ba-ila are sketching them
selves. The virtues they esteem, the vices they condemn, the follies
they ridicule all are here in the animals. It is a picture of Ba-ila drawn
by Ba-ila, albeit unconsciously.. . .*
There is no need to try to explain the occurrence o f animal
stories by invoking out-dated theories about totemism or the un
founded notion that primitive man could somehow not clearly
distinguish between him self and animals. N o r need w e refer to
literalistic interpretations o f the stories, and assume that in each
case they present clear-cut moral messages, like the protest o f
weakness against strength, or a direct one-to-one reflection o f
human or local society, or specific references to definite individuals
though there are occasional instances o f the last category.2
Rather w e can see these animal stories as a medium through which,
in a subtle and complex way, the social and literary experience
o f narrators and listeners can be presented. T h e foibles and weak
nesses, virtues and strength, ridiculous and appealing qualities
known to all those present are touched on, indirectly, in the
telling o f stories and are what make them meaningful and effective
in the actual narration. In contexts in which literary expression is
neither veiled b y being expressed through the written w ord nor
(usually) voiced b y narrators removed from die close-knit village
group, comm ent on human and social affairs can be expressed
less rawly, less directly b y being enmasked in animal characters.
1 Smith and Dale, ii, 1920, p. 341.
1 e.g. in Acholi and Lango talcs where the story is ostensibly about, say, the
hare, or 'a certain man, and set in the past, but is in fact designed to ridicule
someone who is present (Okot 1963, pp. 394 ~S)-

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Some o f the plots and explanations in the stories may appear

puerile and naive and so no doubt they are when stripped o f the
social understanding and dramatic narration that give them mean
ing. But the background to, say, some little story about a com
petition between two animals for chiefship, or a race between two
birds to the colonial secretariat for the prize o f local government
office, renders it meaningful to an audience fully aware o f the
lengths to w hich political rivalry and ambition can lead men.
I f we cannot say that such events are represented directly in the
stories, w e can at least see how the tales strike a responsive chord
in their audience. In a w ay common to m any forms o f literature,
but doubly removed from reality in being set among animals, the
animal tales reflect, mould, and interpret the social and literary
experience o f which they form part.
There is a further point about some o f the animal stories. T h is
is the effective use that can be made o f the image o f the trickster
(usually but not invariably an animal). T h is figure can be adapted
to express the idea o f opposition to the normal world or o f the
distortion o f accepted human and social values. T h is applies
particularly when the trickster figure is made not only w ily but
also in some w ay inordinate and outrageous gluttonous, un
inhibited, stupid, unscrupulous, constantly overreaching himself.
Here, the trickster is being presented as a kind of mirror-image o f
respectable human society, reflecting the opposite o f the normally
approved or expected character and behaviour.1 Again, the trick
ster can be used to represent traits or personalities which people
both recognize and fear. This aspect has been particularly well
described for Ikaki, the tortoise trickster figure among the K ala
hari. H e appears in both masquerade and story as
the amoral, psychopathic confidence trickster the type who accepts
society only in order to prey upon it . . . the intelligent plausible
psychopath, that universal threat to the fabric of the community.2
M ore than this. N ot only does the trickster figure stand for w hat
is feared, his representation in literature also helps to deal w ith
these fears. In ffxe first place, he is represented in animal guise
which allows narrator and listener to stand back, as it were, and
contemplate the type in tranquillity. Further, b y portraying him
< A point brought out in Evans-Pritchards account of the Zande trickster
(Evans-Pritchard 1967, pp. *8-30).
1 Horton 1967, p. *37.

Prose Narratives I I . Content and Form

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in stories, people can show the trickster as him self outwitted and
overreached, often enough by his own wife. A gain, b y exaggerating
and caricaturing him to the point o f absurdity, they in a sense
tame him. In these various ways
the disturbing real-life experience of plausible psychopaths is controlled,
confined, and cut down to size. People laugh from out of their depths
at the ravening forest beast, because for once they have got him behind
bars.1
Th ese animal tales have been the most popular and well-known
type o f African narrative among many European collectors and
readers. T h e stories are often amusing in themselves, they fitted
in w ith certain preconceptions about, say, totemism or the sup
posed childlike mentality o f Africans, and they provided pleasing
parallels to the Uncle Remus stories o f Am erica w hich they had
ultimately fathered.2 T h e result is that many m ore animal stories
have been published than those about other characters, and the
impression has often been given that animal tales form the main
type o f prose narrative in A frica or even o f oral literature altogether.
T h is in fact is far from being the case. T h e proportion o f animal
stories seems to have been m uch exaggerated, and in some areas
at least stories mainly about people or supernatural beings seem
to be preferred or to be m ore elaborate, lengthy, or serious. It is
not easy to work out the numerical and qualitative relationship
between animal and other stories in different areas. O ne or two
suggestions have been made along these lines postulating, for
example, that animal tales are the most popular form in Central
and East Africa, but not at all conspicuous in parts o f South
A frica.3 But the evidence is hard to assess. Q uite apart from the
overlapping between animal and other tales, one does not usually
know what principles o f selection have been adopted in any given
collection o f tales: even commentators working in the same areas
at the same date may differ w idely about the relative significance
o f different types o f tales. Perhaps all that can be concluded for the
moment at least is that, for all their popularity in Europe, animal
1 Ibid., p. 239.
1 Or so it is usually assumed; it is not in fact certain that all the Uncle Remus
tales came directly from Africa via the slaves.
1 See e.g. Jacottets remarks on this (1908, p. xxvi). T h e once mooted idea
(of Bleeks) that animal tales did not occur among the Bantu is now recognized
to be untenable.

354

'

tales are not the only or even the most important type o f African
oral narratives.

! .
;j

i
|;
|;

.
;
j
:'
!
!:,

iI

Prose

Stories about people are, in some areas at least, probably the

most important group o f narratives. These stories are o f many
kinds. Som e are concerned w ith marvellous events and per
sonages, some exhibit marked A rabic influence (particularly in
the long-established Islam ic areas), some deal w ith everyday
events in village life, some w ith a combination o f all these. Like
animal stories, some stories contain an aetiological aspect or a
m oralizing conclusion, others centre round a series o f tricks or a
competition. T h ere is a definite overlapping in subject and structure, both between various categories o f stories about people and,
as already remarked, between all these stories and animal tales as
a whole.
Less need be said about narratives set in the human world than
those about animals. T h is is not because they are less important,
but because, being less w ell known, they have been less theorized
over and confused b y W estern scholars. It is obvious to most
readers that these narratives can be treated as a form o f literature
comparable to the more fam iliar types o f written fiction rather
than, analysed as some strange product o f a totemistic or as yet
childish mentality. A fter some b rief comments on the range o f
these stories, the narratives can be left to speak for themselves as
self-evidently a form o f literature.
M an y o f these stories are about everyday events and characters.
T h e y concern such w ell-known problems as the relations o f two
co-wives and how these affect their children or their husband;
wooing a w ife; jealousy between tw o equals or between ch ief and
subject; the extremes o f friendship and affection shown b y two
companions; or a series o f clever tricks b y some outrageous but
in essence recognizably human character. But even more often,
it seems, the story is set back a little further from reality b y the
introduction o f some marvellous element in setting, event, or
character. T h e man w ho goes to woo a woman, for instance, may
have to undergo a series o f far-fetched or even magical tests before
he can w in her perhaps sowing and harvesting some crop in
a single day, or guessing his beloveds closely guarded and amazing
secret, or avoiding death only through the magical help o f animals
or spirits. Sim ilarly the cunning o f the central character m ay rest i

Prose Narratives II. Content and Form

355

on enchanted powers and lead the listener into some far-away world
o f fantasy. T h e imagination o f both teller and audience can rove
freely and the exploits o f the hero become the more romantic
and exciting for being enacted against this imaginary back
ground.
Other stories could be called thrillers. T h e hero struggles against
ogres and monsters who are trying to devour him. These fearsome
ogres are stock characters in many stories in Bantu Africa. There
are the one-legged, two-mouthed cannibalistic ogres o f East African
tales, for instance, the D i-kishi cannibal o f Angolan stories (some
times appearing as a named hero , D ikithi1) with his one eye and
a single leg made o f beeswax, or the half-man, half-animal mon
sters o f some tales in M alawi or the Congo.2 W e also meet various
powerful monsters, giants, and spirits in W est African stories, many
o f them man-eating but apparently less often physically deformed;
a number o f them are clearly closely related either to animals*
or to the djinns and genies familiar from Islamic sources. In all
these cases, the basically non-human and asocial character o f these
figures comes through clearly either b y reason o f their deformities
or through their association with non-human creatures.
Even without the appearance o f exotic characters and settings,
an element o f fantasy is often apparent. In one Sierra Leonean
story, to give ju st one instance, a pregnant womans belly grew
'as big as Sierra Leone and Great Britain put together.* A ll over
the continent kings are represented as possessing exaggerated
wealth and power, heroes are revived from death, girls are wooed
by hundreds and thousands o f suitors, young men w in whole
kingdoms for themselves b y force o f arms or politic love, or hunters
kill and capture fabulous beasts w ho bring them all their desires.
In the areas strongly influenced b y Islam, particularly on the East
1 T . J. Larson, Epic Tales of the Mbukushu*, A fr. Studies 22, 1963.
* It has been suggested by F. Posselt (Mashona Folk-lore', Nada 5, 1927,
p. 36) that the emphasis on ogres and cannibals is rare among Central African
groups compared to the warlike South African peoples (Zulu, Sotho, etc.).
However, even if this is so with the Shona it certainly does not apply to other
Central African peoples: we hear, for instance, of ogres in Lamba stories,
cannibalistic 'goblins in Nyanja, Thonga ogre stories, etc. On the various
related Bantu terms for these ogres in stories see A. Werners review o f Lindbloms Kamba Folklore in B S O S 5,1928/30, p. 433, and Werner 1933. PP-174.
1 Cf. the half-man, half-animal figure that occurs in many West African
stories discussed in G. Calame-Griaule and Z. Ligers, L hommc-hy&ne dans
la tradition soudanaise, L'Homme 1. 2, 1961.
4 Innes 1964, p. 18.

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Coast, we also hear o f sultans with w ealthy and glittering en

tourages and o f the miraculous assistance given to a hero b y
genies.
The actual w ay in which the story-tellers imagination can com
bine fantastic elements with his knowledge o f the real varies not
only from society to society but also from narrator to narrator.
Each has his own contribution to make o f w it, satire, elegance, or
moralizing. It is too simple to pick on ju st one element, like
realism and lack o f sentimentality or placid serenity, and extra
polate this to apply to African narratives in general.1 Some are
realistic; some very definitely are not unless b y realism one
merely means that a narrator builds on his own experience o f
reality to add point and vividness to his literary inspiration, in
which case assertions about realism becom e meaningless. Sim i
larly some stories may give an impression o f serenity; others most
definitely do not. It is better to say that the opportunities for
various kinds o f literary effect are exploited differently in different
contexts, and that even when some o f the themes are the same, the
actual tone and impact o f the story itself m ay vary in different
areas and according to different narrations.
Tw o brief stories can illustrate this point. In both there is an
element o f fantasy and a concentration on human action but
the stories are very different in tone.

ONE C A N N O T HELP AN U N L U C K Y MAN

(Hausa)

There was a certain Man, a Pauper, he had nothing but husks for
himself and his Wife to eat. There was another Man who had many
Wives and Slaves and Children, and the two Men had farms close
together.
One day a Very-Rich-Man who was richer than either came, and was
going to pass by on the road. He had put on a ragged coat and torn
trousers, and a holey cap, and the People did not know that he was rich,
they thought that he was a Beggar. Now when he had come up close,
he said to the Rich-Man Hail to you in your work, but when he had
said Hail, the Rich-Man said What do you mean by speaking to me,
you may be a Leper for all we know I So he went on, and came to
the Poor-Mans farm, and said Hail to you in your work. And the
1 As e.g. Johnston 1966, p. xli; Dadie 1964, p. 207.

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Poor-Man replied Um hum,1 and said to his Wife 'Quick, mix some
husks and water, and give him to drink.' So she took it to him, and
knelt,2 and said See, here is some of that which we have to drink.' So
he said Good, thanks be to God, and he put out his lips as if he were
going to drink, but he did not really do so, he gave it back to her,
and said I thank you.
So he went home and said Now, that Man who was kind to me I must
reward. So he had a calabash washed well with white earth,3 and filled
up to the top with dollars, and a new mat4 was brought to close it. Then
the Very-Rich-Man sent his Daughter, who carried the calabash, in
front, and when they had arrived at the edge of- the bush3 he said Do
you see that crowd of People over there working ? And she replied Yes,
I see them. He said 'Good, now do you see one Man over there working
with his Wife ? And she replied Yes. Good, he said, to him must
you take this calabash. Then she said Very well, and she passed on,
and came to where the Poor-Man was, and said Hail, and continued
I have been sent to you, see this calabash, I was told to bring it to
you.
Now the Poor-Man did not open it to see what was inside, his poverty
prevented him,6 and he said Take it to Malam Abba, and tell him to
take as much flour as he wants from it, and to give us the rest. But when
it had been taken to Malam Abba, he saw the dollars inside, and he put
them into his pockets, and brought guinea-corn flour and pressed it
down in the calabash, and said Carry it to him, I have taken some.
A n d the Poor-Man [when he saw that there was some flour left] said
Good, thanks be to God, pour it into our calabash,7and depart, I thank
you.
Now the Very-Rich-Man had been watching from a distance, and
[when he saw what had happened] he was overcome with rage, and
said 'Truly if you put an unlucky Man into a jar of oil he would emerge
quite dry.8 I wanted him to have some luck, but God has made him
thus.9

1 T he correct reply, the intonation making it a sound o f pleasure and not

merely a rude grunt.
2 A woman always kneels when handing food to a man.
1 This can be used like whitewash, and the calabashes are coated outside.
Here a mark of favour.
4 Little round grass mats which act as covers or lids.
* The farms are the only clearings in many parts where the population is not
too plentiful.
4 He was so hungry that he would have been unable to resist eating the whole,
for he thought it contained food.
7 So that she could take her own away again.
* A proverb, meaning that whatever you do for a man who is fated to be
unlucky he will not profit by it.
* Tremeamc 1913, pp. 242-3.

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W ACICI A N D HER FRIENDS
(Kikuyu)

W acid was a very beautiful girl, admired by many people for her
elegance and charm. Her girl friends were very jealous o f her and
always ill-treated her.
One day her friends were going to visit a tntoehani1 to have their teeth
filed, spaced, and beautified as girls used to do. W acid joined them.
He was a man of great fame who was highly reputed for his skill. They
all had their teeth well done and the girls looked very attractive and
charming, but no one looked as pretty as Wacici. The expert praised
W acids teeth and beauty and added that she had natural beauty and
charm in everything. This annoyed her girl friends very much.
On their way home they stopped and talked to young men from time
to time. They laughed as they spoke to the boys, Aha-aaal Uuuuuul
Eial This is the most romantic laughter which was artificially employed
by Gikuyu girls spedally when speaking to boys. Aha-aaa! Uuuuuul
Eial They continued to laugh repeatedly as they spoke to young men
and the boys would adniire their teeth and their charm and sense of
humour.
You have been to the tooth expert, have you not?* the boys inquired.
Aha-aaal Uuuuuul Eial* T h e girls continued to laugh.
Wacici is looking most attractive,* one boy remarked kindly, she is
really gorgeous and wonderful. And all the boys agreed and repeated
this remark to Wacici. This infuriated the girls, who were very jealous
of Wacicis beauty and many o f them wanted her out of their company.
The girls continued their journey towards their homes and on the way
they all conspired to bury Wacici alive in a porcupine hole which was
somewhere in the forest near the road.
It was suggested that they should all enter the forest and gather some
firewood to take back home as it was the custom that girls should return
to their homes with some firewood after a days outing. They all agreed
to do this and Wacici particularly was very eager to take home some
firewood. She was not only a beauty but also a very good girl who upheld
the respect expected of Gikuyu girls, and her mother loved her dearly.
When the girls reached the porcupine hole in the forest, they grabbed
Wacici and pushed her down the hole and quickly buried her alive. She
was taken by surprise and she did not have a chance to scream as she
thought that they were playing with her. They did not beat her or do
anything harmful to her body. They scaled the hole very carefully on
top, quickly left the forest and returned to their homes; they did not
speak to anybody about Wacici.
* An expert in beautifying teeth.

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359

That evening Wacici did not return home. Her parents waited and
waited. When she did not come they went about asking W adds friends
if they had been with her that day or whether they had seen her any
where. They all denied having been with her or seeing her anywhere
that day. All this time W acid was crying in the bottom of the porcupine
hole in the forest while her parents were wandering all over the villages
looking for her.
Where has she gone to ? her mother asked. Could a young man have
eloped with her? Her disappearance caused so much concern that her
father had to go to consult witch-doctors and seers and ask what had
become of his daughter.
Next morning W acids father met somebody who had seen his
daughter in company of the other village girls going to the tooth expert.
He reported this to his wife and without wasting any time he went to see
the dentist in order to verify this information. The dentist confirmed
that Wacici and her friends had been to see him and that he had done
their teeth on the day she was reported missing. Also on his way home
W ad d s father met some young men who had seen and spoken to his
daughter with the other village girls. He returned home and reported to
his wife and the family all the information he had gathered.
W adcis brother, who knew most of the girls who were said to have
been seen with his sister, had known for some time that most of the girls
had been jealous, and hated W add. He suspected foul play.
He left home quickly and tracked the route through which the girls
had returned from the expert. He knew that if they gathered some
firewood, they must have entered the forest on the way. He went into
the forest to check if his sister had been killed there.
When he came near the porcupine hole he noticed that it was freshly
covered and that there were many footmarks which suggested that many
people had been there. He examined them very carefully. He also saw
a bundle of firewood which had been abandoned. This time W ad d
could hear some noise and footsteps above her. She was crying and
singing and calling her brothers name.
Cinji! Cinj!
Cinjil Cinji!
Nondakwirire-i! Cinji, I already told you, Cinji,
Nothiganagwo-i! Cinji; I have been hated and spied on, Cinji;
Cinji! Cinji!
Cinjil Cinjil
When he listened carefully he heard the voice of W ad d dearly and he
had no doubt that she had been buried there by her girl friends who
were jealous of her beauty.
He called out, W ad d -il Wacici 1 Wacici heard him and she felt so
happy that he had come to liberate her. She answered quickly, Yuuuuul

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At once her brother started digging and removing the soil. He dug
and dug until he came to where she was sitting and crying. He carried
her to the surface and examined her: she was in good shape except that
she had weakened because of hunger and fear. He took her home and
her parents were so happy to see her again. She was given a good bath
and a lamb was slaughtered to offer thanksgiving to Mwene-Nyaga who
had preserved her life.
Wacici reported what her friends had done to her. The following
morning the evil girls were arrested and sent to a trial before the elders
in a tribunal court and their fathers were heavily fined. They had to pay
many heads o f cattle and many rams and bulls were slaughtered and a
lot of beer had to be brewed for the judges and the elders to eat and
drink. The bad girls were exposed and they were all shunned in society
and were unable to get husbands for a long time. Wacici was widely
respected and she got married and became a mother of many children
and lived happily ever after.1
T h e characters in these tales are sometimes given names. Some
societies have their own favourite named heroes, often of a trickster
type, for instance the Lamba Kantanga (a little mischievous
fellow), the Zanda T u re or T u le (an amusing rogue), the Zulu
Uthlakanyana when appearing as a human (a deceitful and cunning
little dwarf), the Fon Y o (a glutton w ith various supernatural
powers), and so on. A s with animal tales it would be misleading to
assume that all these stories about named characters fall into clear*
cut cycles in an attempt to give an over-all and in principle unitary
history o f the hero. In some cases at least there seems to be no
attempt at consistency or chronology, the stories are told as short
independent narrations on different occasions, and their inclusion
into one united narrative may represent the outlook o f the W estern
systematizing scholar rather than the intentions o f the narrators.2
Other characters in African stories are named but totally in
dependent in that they occur in only isolated stories. T h e names
are merely taken, it seem s,. from everyday names in current use
and given to a character for ease o f reference. Or, alternatively,
the name itself has meaning and contributes to the effect o f the
story, though without necessarily carrying on into other similar
stories, like the Zande M an-killer and One-leg, or the Lim ba
brothers Daring and Fearful.
1 N . Njururi, Agtkuytt Folk Tales, London, 1966, pp. 86-9.
* e.g. Callaways presentation of the Zulu tales about Uthlakanyana (Calla
way 1868).

Prose Narratives I I . Content and Form

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In very many cases, however, the characters are not given names.
T h e y appear just as a certain woman, a chief, a small boy*,
a hunter, two twins, and so on. Each literary culture has its own
stock figures whose characteristics are immediately brought into
the listeners minds by their mere mention. T h u s the Ila are
particularly fond o f stories about fools,1 the K am ba especially like
tales about those chosen from the extreme bracket o f society like
the one-eyed, sickly, orphan, widow, very poor or despised,2 and
the Hausa, among others, make great play w ith the theme of the
unfaithful wife. Som e stock characters have wide application and
appear in various contexts in the stories o f m any African peoples.
W e often hear o f the actions o f a jealous husband, a boaster, a skil
fu l hunter, an absurdly stupid person, a despised youngster
making good, a wise old woman, an oppressive ruler, twins, good
and bad daughters, or young lovers. T h e basic human dilemmas
im plied b y so many o f these figures have clearly brought inspira
tion to hundreds o f story-tellers practising their otherwise diverse
skills throughout the continent.
W hen we come to consider the types o f A frican stories usually
termed myths we run into some difficulty. T h is is partly because
m ythology is sometimes loosely used to cover all kinds o f prose
narratives, including Ordinary animal tales and stories about
people.1 M ore important, however, is the point that if w e accept
either the popular or the scholarly distinction o f m yth from fic
tional narrative, this does not seem to fit m uch o f the African
material. A s it is not possible to touch on every single case it may
be helpful to make some rather general comments about the
problem of delimiting and discussing African m yths. T h is will
involve recapitulating several points touched on earlier.
One recent account o f w hat is meant by m yth is that put for
w ard b y Bascom, based among other things on his assessment of
h ow this term has been used b y students o f oral literature. T h is
provides a convenient starting-point. H e writes:
Myths are prose narratives which, in the society in which they are told
are considered to be truthful accounts o f what happened in the remote past.
1 See Smith and Dale ii, 1920, pp. 404 ff.
* Mbiti 1959, p. 257.
1 As in e.g. A. Werners African Mythology which includes chapters on Hare
and Jackal Stories, Tortoise Stories, etc., or K . Am otts African Myths and
Legends (London, 1962) in which the largest single group consists of animal
stories.

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They are accepted on faith; they are taught to be believed; and they
can be cited as authority in answer to ignorance, doubt, or disbelief.
Myths are the embodiment of dogma; they are usually sacred; and they
are often associated with theology and ritual. Their main characters
a r e __ animals, deities, or culture heroes, whose actions are set in an
earlier world, when the earth was different from what it is today, or in
another world such as the sky or underworld.. . .*
T h is account fits well With the everyday connotations o f the term
m yth in term s o f the content, the authoritative nature o f these
narratives, the w ay in w hich th ey are believed, and their special
context and characters, often consciously distinguished from other
less serious narratives.
W hen this sense o f the term is taken, it seems evident that myths
in the strict sense are b y no means common in African oral litera
ture. T h is is in spite o f the narratives presented as m yths in many
popular collections.2 It is true that m any o f these have an aetiological element, refer to supernatural beings, or are concerned
w ith events set in some remote time in the past. B ut th ey do not
necessarily also possess the other attributes o f 'm yths' their
authoritative nature and the w ay in which they are accepted as
serious and truthful accounts. It is seldom, also, that w e seem to
find narratives depicting the activities o f deities or other super
natural beings alone or even as the central subject:3 m uch more
frequently the interest seems to be centred on human or animal
characters w ith supernatural beings only appearing in secondary
roles. Radins remark in 1952 that cosmological m yths are rare
in A frica compared to their significance among, say, the Poly
nesians or Am erican Indians4 has not been invalidated b y evidence
produced since then. A nd one could go further and say that m yths
in any strict sense do not seem, on the evidence we have, to be
a characteristic African form at all.
It is worth pointing out the actual classifications made in several
African societies between different types o f narrative. T h ou gh
these m ay not amount to a distinctive category o f m yth, they do
1 Bascom 19656, p. 4. The whole of this passage (and the article as a whole)
is worth consulting.
* e.g. H. U . Beier, The Origin o f L ife and Death: African Creation Myths,
London, 1966. It is highly doubtful whether these stories were really locally
regarded as 'myths in any full sense o f the term.
* There are some exceptions to this in*West Africa, where religious ideas
sometimes find expression in a belief in pantheons of deities.
* Radin 195a, p. 2.

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363

provide a somewhat analogous though less marked contrast be

tween more fictional tales and those said in some sense to be true.
T h is can be illustrated from three or four o f the better-studied
African cultures.
First, the Fon o f Dahomey. T h e y generally distinguish in
terminology between hwenoho and heho, a distinction only at first
sight corresponding to myth as against fiction. Hwenoho is
literally tim e-old-story and includes, to use Herskovitss terms,
myths (stories o f the deities and the peopling o f the earth),
d a n myth-chronicles (telling o f the origin and adventures of the
powerful families), and 'verse-sequences (sung by professional
poets to memorize genealogies and events incorporated into ritual
or law).1 These narratives are not presented with the same art
and dramatization as more fictional tales, and tend to be told b y
specialists (priests, diviners, etc.) or within a small fam ily group,
particularly a fam ily coun dl. T h e elements o f entertainment and
o f consdous artistry seem relatively unim portant..The second
group o f Fon narratives, the heho, covers more light-hearted
stories. There are tales' about various supernatural, human, and
animal characters: about hunters, women, twins, orphans, or
children-born-to-die; about the trickster-deity Legba or the
mythical Y o w ith his gross appetites; and various kinds of ex
planatory and moralizing tales. A ll these latter stories are normally
told at night. Some o f them also occur in the context o f divination12*
where they m ay appear on the surface to be obviously myths
yet they are locally classified as heho. In fact, as Herskovits points
out,2 the classifications are not absolutely clear-cut ones; there is
overlap between them in terms o f symbolic characterization, plot,
motif, and function.
In these and some other W est African cases the local classifica
tions bear some resemblance to the general distinction between
folktale (or ordinary fictional narrative) on the one hand and
a blend of m yth-legend on the other.4 In other cases, however,
either no such distinction is made at all, or else what there is makes
rather different, sometimes more complicated groupings. T h e
, Kim bundu classifications, for example, divide narratives into three
1
1
1
4

Herskovits 1958, p. 17.

The Fa or Ifa divination system described in Ch. 7.
Op. cit., pp. 25-6.
For some further examples see Bascom 19656.

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:]

'vlM M sm A A

if

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main groups (excluding the closely related proverbs, jisabu). T h ere

are, first, the stories regarded as fictitious, misoso, arising from
imagination. Their object, writes Chatclain, is less to instruct
than to entertain, and to satisfy the aspirations of the mind for
liberty from the chains of space and time, and from the laws o f
matter. 1 T h is class includes animal tales and stories about the
marvellous and supernatural. Secondly there are the tnaka, re
putedly true stories or anecdotes. Th ese are instructive as well as '
entertaining, and are socially didactic, concerned with how to live
and act. Finally there are the historical narratives malunda or
misendu the chronicles o f the tribe and nation transmitted b y
headmen or elders. T h ey are considered to be state secrets and
plebeians get only a few scraps from the sacred treasure of the
ruling class.1
Another local classification which does not exactly fit the stan
dard folktale/myth/legend typology is that of the Dogon. T h eir
oral literature is divided into several categories.2 There is, first,
so nanay, true saying. T h is includes the genealogies, back to the
supposed time when all Dogon descended from the three sons o f
a common ancestor. It also includes accounts how far appearing
in narrative sequence it is not clear about the deeds o f the first
ancestor and his descendants, and about the ancestors o f each
d an and the founding o f the various contemporary villages. T h en
there are the tanye or tanye nanay (literally impossible or un
believable but true). These are the true fantastic tales w hich are
believed b y the teller to have happened; they took place, he holds,
in the ancient times when things could happen which would now
be impossible. These include what L ifch itz calls myths* i.e.
tales about, say, the origin o f death or stories explaining the origin
o f various animal characteristics and so on. She goes on to point
out, however, that it is only when told b y elders or adult men,
usually to educate the young, that these tales can really be called
myths or true ; if they are told b y the young among themselves
they become just ordinary stories (elume). Untrue fantastic tales
are termed tanye nanay la, i.e. incredible things which are not
true. These are tales about events w hich not only could not but in
fact, according even to the teller, never did take place, and take

Chatelain

1
1894, p. 21.
1 This follows Lifchitzs account in Africa 13,1940. See also Calame-Griaule
96 s. PP- 447 ff-

Prose Narratives I I . Content and Form

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the form o f fantastic stories often ending up w ith a dilemma.

D istinct from all these arc the stories (ebne or elume) told to enter
tain children, often b y the children themselves. T h ese include
stories about animals and can, at w ill, always be transformed into
aetiological narratives b y changing just one or tw o phrases and
adding some such conclusion as and since then people have done
that. These tales are not usually told b y adults but by young
people while in the fields or during their tim e as herders.
O ther instances o f complex indigenous classifications could also
be cited. A ll of them make it difficult to draw any clear distinction
between a m yth and a folktale i f this is to have any basis in
local terminology.
T h ere are also many cases in which no distinctions at all in the
terminology seem normally to be made between different types
o f narrative. T h e W est African Lim ba, for instance, mostly use
the single term mbnro to cover all kinds o f narratives, the Y ao o f
M alaw i similarly use ndano o f tales in general,1 the Azande have
no distinct term for m yth,2 while for the H unde o f the eastern
Congo migani equally covers contes, fables, l^gendes.1
W hat light does this discussion o f terminology throw on the
occurrence or nature o f myths in African oral literature? Amid
the variety of classifications a few general points emerge.
F irst there is the frequent absence o f any specific term which
w ould exactly translate our term myth . It is true that the absence
o f the word need not im ply the non-occurrence o f the thing. But it
is certainly suggestive i f the local terminology either makes no
distinction at all w ithin narratives or a distinction on different
lines from those o f the foreign theorist.
T h e n there are the cases where there are local distinctions
analogous to the familiar one between folktale and m yth (or per
haps more often between folktale and myth-legend). Here it often
appears that the crucial differentiating factors are not so much the
content or the characters o f the narratives but the context in which
th ey are told. T h u s among the Fon and the A shanti the serious
and true narratives, the myths, are told w ithin circumscribed
groups or are limited to a select group o f elders w ho guard them
w ith care. T h e y are used in serious discussion during the day, as
1 Macdonald i, 1882, p. 48.
1 Evans-Pritchard 1967, pp. 31-3.
* L . Viaene, Coup dceil sur la litt&ature orale des Bahunde (Kivu)', KongoOverzee 21, 1955, p. 212.
eiMSH

Bb

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distinct from the entertaining stories o f the evenings. Certain of

the same factors recur in the otherwise rather different cases o f the
K im bundu and the Dogon. A m ong the former the malunda (his
torical narratives that might by m ore superficial commentators
have been classed as myths) are secret, known only to the politi
cally influential; and the Dogon tanyenanayzxe regarded as m yths
when told in one type o f context and merely as stories in another.
It emerges that in .trying to distinguish different categories
o f A frican oral narrations, in particular potential myths, it may
be more fruitful to look not prim arily at subject-matter but at
context. Questions about the circumstances in w hich the narra
tions take place, their purpose and tone, the type o f narrator and
audience, the publicity or secrecy o f the event, and, finally, even
the style o f narration may be more crucial than questions about
content and characters. U nfortunately it is precisely about these
former factors that w e are often least well inform ed: subjectmatter is so much more easily observed than the more significant
and m ore subtle aspects o f narrations. W e know, for instance, of
the m any aetiological tales or o f those including references to
certain supernatural beings or events. But without also being
informed about the context o f narration, there is no justification
for glibly assigning them to the class o f myths. Indeed, all w e do
know about the contextual aspect leads to the impression that these
are probably ordinary stories, not authoritative myths. T h e point is
that w e cannot decide by subject alone, we must know about context.
A further point that stands out is that with the probable excep
tion o f certain W est African narratives, religious beliefs seem often
not to b e regularly enshrined in narrative sequence at all. T h is
emerges partly from the local terminologies which, in East, South,
and Central Africa, seldom have a w ord to cover the literary for
mulation o f these beliefs. T h e published narratives apparently
relating to religious phenomena seem (in the cases where they
are not ju st ordinary stories) to be elicited narratives: it is not
clear that they would have been expressed in narrative and literary
form w ere it not for the request o f the collector. If, however, we
knew m ore about the contexts and circumstances o f narration in
general, tins assessment might in fact turn out to be mistaken.
But it is noticeable that it is particularly among those collectors
who have had the closest knowledge o f the peoples they are writing
about that w e find a telling absence o f any reference to or inclusion

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367

o f religious narratives, or even an explicit denial that these play

any significant role at all in the local oral literature.1
It is probably possible to find some exceptions to this general
lack o f literary expression o f religious ideas in much o f Africa.
T h e Bushmen m ay perhaps provide one instance o f this, and the
Pygmies or some o f the N ilotic or W est African peoples may pro
vide others. It is possible that other exceptions may also emerge,
particularly when more is known o f the contexts in which religious
beliefs are expressed. But at the moment the general impression
remains o f the lack o f formulated religious narratives among most
African peoples. Herskovits summed this up well in 1946 (though,
because o f his preconceptions, it led him to the different conclu
sion that the commentators had just inexplicably failed to record
the religious narratives that he presumed must have existed). He
observed:
Except for West Africa, narrative myth sequences appear only rarely
in the literature. . . . From the point o f view of the student who ap
proaches mythology as a literary phenomenon, what is lacking is the
presentation of the narrative sequences, as told by natives, of events in
the supernatural world that are believed to have brought about the
situations described.. . .2
Publications since the time o f his remark give no cause to revise
that general statement.
T h is lengthy discussion has been necessary because o f the w ay
it is presumed that m yths must exist and play a part in African oral
literature, rind the consequent inclusion in many collections o f
stories that are claimed to be myths. However, with a few excep
tions there is an absence o f any solid evidence for m yth as a de
veloped literary form in most areas o f Africa. It is possible that
further research, particularly into the local classifications and the
contextual background o f oral narratives, may reverse this con
clusion. But from what has been published to date it seems clear
that m yth in the full sense o f the term has not developed as a
typical art form in A frican oral literature.
T h is discussion leads us on naturally to the question o f legends
and historical narratives generally in African oral literature. T h e
1 e.g. Lindblom and Mbiti (Kamba), Doke (Lamba), Junod (Thonga and
Ronga), Cagnolo (Kikuyu), Chatelain (Kimbundu), Theal (Xhosa), Jaconet
(Sotho).
1 Herskovits i960 (1946), pp. 447-8.

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two terms are really synonymous in their denotation, although

legends seems to have become the commoner term when de
scribing oral historical narratives or, sometimes, those in whose
truth the commentator himself has little faith. This general class o f
narratives covers those which are regarded locally as true, parti
cularly b y the narrator himself and his immediate audience, but
differ from myths in being set in a m uch less remote period when
the world was much as it is today. T h e y depict the deeds o f human
rather than supernatural heroes and deal w ith, or allude to, events
such as migrations, wars, or the establishment o f ruling dynasties.1
In discussing this group o f narrations, some o f the same points
should be made as were made earlier about myths. T h e local
classifications, for one thing, do not always coincide with our
analytical distinction between historical and fictional narratives.
Again, the degree o f belief in a particular narrative is one
o f the hardest o f things to assess. Even in a familiar society
this is notoriously difficult but it is even more difficult in un
familiar cultures; it is made more difficult still in that investigators
have taken very little interest in this question.2 It is clear that the
recorded words by themselves or the mere description o f the deeds
of various human heroes often give us no inkling about the authority
or lack o f authority locally attached to these descriptions. Ques
tions about the context, circumstances, purpose, and personnel
involved, all o f which could throw more light on the problem o f
credence, are usually all ignored. Finally, one must repeat the
point already made that well-known and agreed beliefs need not
necessarily find their expression in narrative or literary form at all.
Genealogies, origins, lines o f succession, the famous deeds o f past
rulers all these can be known and recognized in a society without
necessarily being found in any literary genre. Or, if they do find
' See the definition of 'legend* in Bascom 19656, pp. 4-5, from which the
above account is largely drawn. M y discussion here is not concerned with the
large question of the historical accuracy o f legends and oral narratives in general
and thus leaves aside the much discussed problem of the dependability of oral
traditions for historical research (on which see e.g. Vansina 1965 and references
given there); I might add, however, that in view o f the inherent variability of
oral expression and the significance of the literary aspect, I am rather doubtful
how far we can regard oral literary forms as providing much evidence for actual
events in earlier periods.
* There is a good discussion of this in Evans-Pritchnrd 1967, pp. 24 ff. Cf.
also Lindblom*s comment on the difficulty o f deciding whether Kamba explana
tory tales are serious or humorous (Lindblom ii, 1935, p. iii).

Prose Narratives I I . Content and Form

369

literary expression, this m ay take the common African form of

panegyric poetry rather th aif prose narrative.
It has been necessary to sound this note o f caution because o f the
facile assumptions on w hich so many collections and references
in this field are based. W e are not infrequently given examples
o f legends in published collections without any evidence
about whether the narratives are regarded as true in any sense.1
Sometimes even the m inim um formal requirements for classi
fyin g a tale as a legend are lacking.2 Again, it is too oftenassumed that any knowledge o f the past must always find expres
sion in literary form. T h e result is that the content o f oral
traditions is constantly referred to, without evidence, as being
expressed in sustained literary form, or such traditions are elicited
and recorded by the historian or anthropologist in narrative form
w ithout any consideration for whether this is an indigenous type
o f formulation, and, i f so, in what contexts and form s it spon
taneously appears. W e are, in short, so often given either just the
narrative with no reference to its context, or else ju st a reference
to the context and content without any indication o f how far this
knowledge is crystallized in narrative form, that one is sometimes
tem pted to wonder whether historical narrative is in fact anything
like as important as is usually assumed as a form o f oral literature
in the non-Islamic areas o f Africa.
T h is said, w e can go on to consider the real instances of legends
and historical narratives (or, at least, the clear elements o f this
form that appear in association with other literary genres). There
seems generally to be far more literary interest in historical
narrative in the deeds o f historical heroes in the not so remote
past than in myths (in the sense of the actions o f deities in the
furthest past or of cosmological speculations).
1 e.g. K . Amott, op. cit., 1962; Werner 1933; J. Maes, 'Mythes et ligendes
sur laHume-feu, Africa 9, 1936 (Congo); Vanneste 1949 (Alur); A. Werner,
'T w o Galla Legends, Man 1 3 ,1913; A. deClercq, Quelques lgendes des Bena
Kanioka, Antkropos 4, 1909, and Lgendes des Mongwandi , Revue Congolaite 2, 1912; D. St. John-Parsons, Legends of Northern Ghana, London, 1958;
A. Terrisse, Confer et Ugendes du Sinigal, Paris, 1963.
1 e.g. C. M . Turnbulls collection entitled Legends of the BaMbuti (JfRAI
^9> 1959) in which, even on his own account, the great majority are ordinary
imaginative stories about people, animals, spirits, and the various tricks used
among them. The same applies to M . I. Ogumefus Yoruba Legends, London,
1929, the legends of the tortoise in Werner 1933, and many other similar
references.

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Prose

It is particularly in the areas deeply influenced by A rabic cul

tural traditions that historical narrative seems to emerge most
clearly as a sharply differentiated and distinctive art form, some
times even referred to by a term derived from the A rabic.1 B ut in
other areas too more serious narrations concerned with historical
events m ay be distinguished as a separate literary form.
T h u s w e have the Yoruba itptt (or itan) which refers m ainly to
historical narratives and seems to include both creation stories
(which are sometimes classed as myths) and conquest legends
about how Oduduwa, the legendary ancestor of the Y oruba, and
his descendants spread out through the various contemporary
kingdoms, towns, and lineages o f the Yoruba.1 These histories, it
appears, were told among those most closely concerned the
people o f the particular town or lineage and were not presented
in as formalized or detailed a form as the corresponding praise
poems.1 B ut they do seem to have had a fairly clear literary fram e
work, w hich is exploited by the fashion for published Y oruba
histories o f towns in written form.
Strong historical traditions w hich are expressed in narrative
form are also o f marked importance among many o f the interlacustrine Bantu kingdoms o f East Africa. Again, this tradition
has flowered recently with m any versions o f such historical
chronicles now appearing in vernacular written forms.4
T h e narratives o f the Congolese Nkundo about the life and ex
ploits o f their national hero, Lianja, are remarkable for their length
and detail.5 In fact, the sustained forms in which these N kundo
narrations have been published probably give a m isleading im
pression: collectors have pieced together many different tales to
make up one written 'epic* account, and it is highly doubtful

1 e.g. the habaru and gisa forms o f the North Comeroons Fulani (Mohamadou
*963, P- 7 *)1 See e.g. P. C . Lloyd, Yoruba Myths: a Sociologists Interpretation , Odii a,
1955 (mainly a discussion o f what would normally be classed os legends); H. U.
Beier, T h e Historical and Psychological Significance o f Yoruba Myths, Odu 1,
<9551 J> Wyndham, Myths o f J fi, London, 1921; S. Johnson, The History p f the
Yorubas, London, 1921, chs. 1, 2, and passim.
* Lloyd, op. cit.
4 e.g. Kagwa 19340 and the chronicles associated with various kingdoms and
places published in several issues o f the Uganda Journal and elsewhere.
* Among the large literature on various aspects of this epic* see e.g. Boelaert
>949 and 1957; de Rap >964; and for discussion of a written version based on it
A. de Rop, L ipop^e dcs Nkundo: Ioriginal et la copie, Kongo-Oivrzee 24,
1958. See also discussion in Note to Ch. 4, pp. 109 f. above.

Prose Narratives I I . Content and Form

371

whether in fact these tales were really narrated and conceived as

part o f one vast design. T h e degree o f belief involved is also not
very clear. Still, there are indications that these narrations were
fairly frequent and that the occasions on which they were told
were dramatic ones, the main narrator being helped by a chorus.
T h e narrative relates the deeds o f Lianjas parents, his mother's
pregnancy, and the birth o f the hero and his sister Nsongo,
Lianjas battles w ith his fathers murderer, his wanderings in
search o f a place for his people and his settlement o f them there (a
section very subject to variation and endless, often fantastic
elaboration), and, finally, his ascent into the sky. A brief extract
can illustrate the type o f narration involved:
Un jour, au temps de Wai, sa femme, Boltiki devient enceinte . . .
E t voilk que la grossesse de Bohiki ddpasse le terme: accoucher, elle
nc le peut; grossir, elle ne le fait; elle reste comme avant Les gens ne
font que se moquer delle.
Un jour Boliiki prend des calebosses et va puiser de leau au ruisseau.
Pendant qu'elle y va elle ne cesse de pleurer:

Depuis que Wai est parti, ma

que fait cette grossesse,
ma
qui navance pas.
ma

Et pendant quelle puise comme fa de eau au ruisseau elle entend

comme si un homme bougeait dans les herbes. Elle seffraie et dit: Qui
est Ik? EUe voit une vieille femme. La vieille dit: Ne fuis pas. Car je
viens chez to: parce que tu pleures sur ta grossesse et que tu naccouches
pas. Viens queje te touche au ventre. Boluki sapproche delle; la femme
touche son ventre et un ceuf est lk, comme un ceuf de perroquet La
vieille dit: Boliiki, regarde, ta grossesse citait cet ceuf. Donne-le moi,
que je le garde pour toi, et demain matin apporte-moi k manger. Boliiki
lui donne lceuf.
L e lenderoain Boluki prepare des vivres, les prend et vient k la place
convenue: elle voit la vieille arriver avec un trks bel enfant Elle dit:
Boliiki, void ton enfant. Boliiki le prend et lui donne le sein. La vieille
dit: Donne-moi lenfant, cherche ton manioc et pars. Quand la mfcre
a sorti le manioc de leau, elle dit: Donne-moi 'enfant La vidlle:
Non, non, enfant doit tester; toi, retoume et viens encore id demain
avec vivres.
Boliiki retoume, prepare des vivres et les porte k enfant et k la
vieille, Ik-bas au ruisseau. L enfant qui nitait quun nourrisson hier
est devenu un grand garfon.1

1 Boelaert 1949, pp. 9-10.

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Prose

Finally, one must mention the clear historical interest that has
evidently characterized many o f the legends and narratives o f king
doms o f the Western Sudan. Here there is a tradition o f A rabic
culture and of written historical chronicles in either Arabic or local
languages a tradition which has affected oral literary form s.1
T h e examples given so far have mainly been drawn from the
powerful kingdoms of traditional Africa. T h is is no coincidence.
It is evident that it is in these kingdoms in particular that there
are manifest political advantages in propagating certain historical
interpretations o f the past whether in the form of myths or o f
legends. Narratives purporting to recount, for instance, how the
ancestors o f the present ruling houses first came to the area as
saviours, or first settlers, or even victorious conquerors (all
common themes) provide a justification for the continued position
and power o f these houses in the present. T h e mythical charter
thus given by the stories can be an important support for the exist
ing distribution o f political power, and it is not surprising that in
these conditions there is a marked emphasis on history.1 (However,
even here, panegyric poetry seems often in fact to have surpassed
prose history in both literary specialism and political propaganda.)1*3
In the uncentralized societies o f Africa, even if historical nar
ratives are less conspicuous they certainly exist. Even in egalitarian
communities it is common for various families and villages to have
stories about their origins and ancestors, and sometimes these are
expressed in narrative form. Am ong the Lugbara of Uganda, for
instance, historical narratives (termed myths by M iddleton)
justify not the position of ruling houses but present-day social
relationships between families and groups.4 Sometimes such
1 e.g. to cite just a few instances, M . Delafossc, Tradition* historiques et
legendaires du Soudan occidental, Paris, 1913 (Bambara and Arabic); A. Wade,
Chronique de Wfllo sinigalais, B ull. I F A N (B) 26, 1964 (Wolof); R. M . East,
Stories o f O ld Adamaioa, Lagos, 1935 (Adamawa Fulani); G. Adam, Ligendes
historiques du pays de Ntora, Paris, 1940; E. J. Arnett, 'A Hausa Chronicle ,
J . A fr. Soc. 9, 1909/10; H. Solken, Die Geschichte von Kabi nach Imam
Umaru, M itt. Inst. Orientforsch. 7. 1, 1959/60; 9. 1, 1963. For various transla
tions or paraphrases of Arabic chronicles see e.g. O. Houdas and M. Delafosse,
Tarikh el-fettach, par MahmoCd K d ti, Paris, 1913 (on Songhai empire); M . Dela
fosse and H. Gaden, Ckroniques du FoCta sAtegalais; traduites de deux mamucrits
inidits . . . , Paris, 1913; E. J. Arnett, The Rise o f the Sokoto Fulani, Kano, 1022.
1 As pointed out e.g. by Whiteley 1964, p. 7; see also the references given in
Vansina 1965, pp. 155 ff. and biblio.
* See Ch. 5 passim and Whiteley, loc. cit.
4 J. Middleton, Some Social Aspects of Lugbara Myth, Africa 24, 1954.

Prose Narratives II. Content and Form

373

historical tales are told not so much for their sanctioning effect
as for their sheer entertainment value.
A ll in all there certainly are instances o f historical narratives
w hich play a more significant part in African literature than do the
m yths we explored earlier. B ut when w e look closely at the
evidence we have to admit the surprising fact that it hardly sus
tains the generally accepted view o f the great importance o f this
form as a specialized literary type in non-Islam ic A frica. In many
cases these narratives appear only as elements in other narrations,
or they appear as elicited or pieced-together recordings b y foreign
collectors rather than as spontaneous art forms. Altogether much
more research needs to be done on the indigenous contexts, tone,
and classifications o f historical narratives before w e can make
assertions about them.

ill
So far we have been considering the conclusions which, with
all their problems and uncertainties, we can still make from the
m any published collections o f African narratives about their
distribution, subject-matter, and, to some extent, literary types.
T h is final section will, in contrast, be devoted to a b rief considera
tion o f questions which so far have been hardly explored in pub
lished sources.
T h e first point is an obvious one. In the case o f oral literature
the actual occasions, performers, and purpose o f the narrations
are obviously o f vital importance. A s far' as the occasions go, w e
do know a certain amount. It has been made clear in m any publica
tions that a very common context for telling stories is in the even
ing when the days work is over. In some cases, this general pattern
is even expressed as a definite rule. Some imagined sanction is
suggested to frighten those tempted to break it like the Z ulu or
Transvaal Ndebele threat that anyone who tells stories in the
day-time will grow horns, or the parallel assertion among the
K am ba that their cattle would perish if tales were told in the day.1
In other cases the limitation to the evening hours seems to be
made merely from convenience, not compulsion. In certain cir
cumstances stories are also told during the day for instance, when
1 How seriously these statements are taken, at least by adults, is not at all
clear, however.

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Prose

people have to spend long hours on long-drawn-out but not very

exacting tasks like herding, m ending fishing-nets, or guarding
crops from birds and animals.
T h e normal pattern seems to be for a number o f relatively short,
self-contained stories to be told during an evening story-telling
session. B ut there are also occasional instances o f serial stories.
W e hear o f M ende 'endless stories'1 or the Kalahari practice o f
carrying on with the 'same' story albeit one without a very tight
plot or over-all view night after night, often stopping at an
exciting point.*
Occasionally w e hear o f story-telling sessions o f a highly
specialized kind like the T u areg evening parties, presided over by
some woman famous for her w it, in which story-telling, music, and
cultivated conversation all play their part in creating popular and
highly valued occasions.3 M ost are less formal, however. T h e y are
very frequently started o ff b y the asking o f riddles, usually by
children. A s the evening wears on these are followed by stories
delivered w ith more art and, relatively, more seriousness. Finally
people lose interest or are too sleepy to continue. However, not
very many detailed accounts have been produced about these and
other occasions for story-telling.
T h e stories are told according to the local conventions about
the suitable personnel and order sometimes b y ju st a few out
standing narrators, sometimes according to a rotation round each
participant in turn, sometimes b y whoever has the story thrown
on to him b y the last teller. 'M yth s and legends are more often
told during the day, often in the course o f solemn discussions or
gatherings about serious matters. B ut in these cases in particular,
details about such occasions are usually lacking. F or all types o f
narrative, in fact, further investigation o f their contexts is needed.
T h e position o f the story-teller him self is central to any discussion
o f the context or purpose o f the various narrations. But here very
little is said b y collectors even less than about the occasions on
w hich th ey are told. M ost editors, indeed, do not even include
the names o f those who told them the stories, far less give details
about their background or position in the local community.*
1 Innes 1964, pp. 16-17.
* R. Horton, personal communicatio'n.
* Chadwicks iii, 1940, p. 666.
* Among the few exceptions to this one can mention Chatelain 1894, Steere
1906, Equilbecq 1913-16, Hulstaert 1965, Dijkmans 1965, Finnegan 1967.

Prose Narratives II. Content and Form

375

T h e degree o f specialism conventionally expected o f story-tellers

is often unclear. In some societies, w e are told, there are at least
a few professional story-tellers who travel from one village to
another, and, presumably, live on their art: this has been asserted
of, among others, the Tem ne, Hausa, and Yoruba o f W est Africa,
Y ao o f East A frica, and the Bulu, Rwanda, and possibly the
Pygmies o f Central and W est Equatorial Africa.1 I t might perhaps
be questioned how far all these men were really professionals in
the sense o f gaining their livelihood purely from literary activity or,
even so, whether this referred merely to the telling o f prose stories.
Often the references are no more than brief assertions in passing.
W hat is certain, however, is that story-telling is usually prac
tised by non-professionals. Leading story-tellers are recognized
as possessing a certain degree o f specialist skill, but this is a spare
time skill only. In most instances there is no evidence that any
material reward accrues to the story-teller, however great his
expertise. T h ough some individuals are clearly regarded as more
expert than others, story-telling typically tends to be a popular
rather than a specialist art. A ll, it appears, are potentially expert
in story-telling and are, w ith some limitations, prepared to take
part in the evening occasions when stories are being told and ex
changed in social gatherings. There is thus no African parallel to the
specialist privileged class o f narrators to be found, say, in Polynesia.*
T h e limitations on this general mastery o f the art o f story
telling arise from local conventions about the age and sex o f the
narrators. In some societies, it appears, these are quite free; in
Others there is a definite emphasis on one or another category as
being the most suitable one for a story-teller. In some areas it
is the women, often the old women, who tend to be the most gifted,
even when thestories themselves are universally known.3 Elsewhere
1 See, respectively, Cronise and Ward 1903, p. 8 (Temne); Johnston 1966,
p. xxx, and S. Leith-Ross, African Women, London, *939, P- 86 (Hausa); Ellis
1894, P- 243 (Yoruba and Ewe); Whiteley 1964, p. 8 (Yao); A . N . Krug, 'Bulu
Tales, J A F 62, 1949, p. 350; E. Hurel, La Poisie dtes its primitift ou center,
fables, riots et proverbes du Ruanda, Brussels, 1922, p. 1; Trilles 1932, p. 235
(Pygmies); cf. also the mention of an official story-teller to the king among the
Luba, according to A. C . L . Donohugh and P. Berry, A Luba Tribe in Katanga;
Customs and Folklore, Africa 5, 1932, p. 180.
* A point made in Radin 1952, p. 14.
1 This is a common southern African pattern, e.g. among the Thongs,
Ronga, Zulu, and Xhosa; it is also mentioned for the Fjort and, in the case o f
certain types of tales at least, for the Cameroons Fulani.

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it is men who tend to be the more expert,' and this applies

particularly to the more serious types of narration (myths and
legends).1 In other cases again, certain stories (perhaps particularly
animal stories) are felt to be the preserve o f children and to be
most suitably told by and to them even though adults know them
and sometimes join in.1*3 T a les told by and for children can scarcely
be judged on a par with those b y adults, and the particular pre
occupations of certain narrations might well be elucidated if we
knew whether, say, they were typically narrated b y women.4
T h e same point arises from the question o f the audiences for
w hom these stories are intended. In some cases at least it is clear
that certain categories o f stories arc designed prim arily for children
and are told to them either b y other children or by the old women.5
But in other instances either this is not known or the collector has
not thought it worth while to describe the audience. Such topics,
which could be crucial fo r an assessment o f the social and literary
significance o f the texts, are most often left to the readers un
informed imagination.
T h is leads directly to the question o f the functions and purpose
o f stories and of the various types o f narrations. Since it was
argued earlier that under the influence of functionalist anthro
pology,6 too much attention has been paid to this question, it
might seem contradictory to include it here in a discussion of
topics which need more investigation. But the earlier assertions
about utilitarian function often depended on very doubtful assump
tions. W hile it is true that the moral, sanctioning, and justifying
functions do sometimes form one aspect o f the stories which we
m ight otherwise have missed, many questions remain. In studying
the oral literature of any particular people, w e want to know, for
instance, about the views o f the people themselves (or, sometimes
more significantly, about th e view s o f different groups among them)
concerning the purpose and functions of their narrations; about
local classifications o f different types o f narrations and whether
these have any relevance for native assessments o f their aims and
1 e.g. Limba, Hausa, Fang, Pygmies.
1 Cf. also the special case o f stories introduced into the Yoruba Ifa divination
process (Ch. 7) which are delivered by fully professional diviners (male).
* e.g. Ibo, Dogon, Galla.
4 See the treatment of this in M . D . de B. Kilson, 'Social Relationships in
Mende dtmtisia', Sierra Leone Studies 15, 1961.
* See the instances cited above.
4 See Ch. 12 above, pp. 330 ff.

Prose Narratives II. Content and Form

377

nature; about how far individuals, or people in general, are pre

pared to verbalize their attitude to their stories; about the con
sistency or otherwise o f their stated view s (as well as that o f the
actual narrations, audiences, and contexts, involved); and about
the relative w eighting they would give, perhaps varying in different
contexts or at different periods, to the various elements involved
such as entertainment, imagination, education, practice in public
speaking, recording, humour, elegance, ridicule, obscenity, m oraliz
ing, etc.1 O f course, even then w e need to remember that, as in the
case o f w ritten literature, there can be no final definition o f the
purpose and use o f oral literature.
Am id all the theorizing about the possible functions o f stories
there is one point which, it seems, is too often overlooked. T h is
is the likelihood that within a culture stories are likely to have
many functions. T h e y will probably vary with the content and
tone compare, for instance, the three different K iku yu stories
quoted in this chapter.2 Even m ore important are the details of
the occasion on which a story is told including the audience, the
narrator's state o f mind, and recent events in the locality. Again,
intentions affect the possible functions o f stories. W e could illus
trate this w ith the way in which some Christians now try to turn
stories in the Congo into Christian allegories,3 or the political
purposes to w hich origin stories have recently been put in G abon4
or W estern Nigeria. T h is point about varying functions is an
obvious one, but it has often been neglected. It is only too tem pting
to pick on ju st one aspect or one transient function and try to
extrapolate it to apply to all stories on all occasions.
T h e idea that African stories are above all designed to convey
morals has caught the imagination not only o f functionalist
anthropologists but also of some o f the N igritude w riters.5 T h is
assumption is made so often that it is worth challenging it in
detail. Certainly some stories do end w ith a moral or a proverb
(though in some cases this does not seem an integral part o f the
1 For useful general discussions of various possible functions o f African
stories see Bascom 1965a; Fisher 1963; E. W . Smith, 'The Function of Folk
tales, A fr. Affairs 39, 1940.
* Pp. 338-40, 347 - 50, 358-60.
3 Steppers 196a, p. 14.
4 Fernandez 1962.
* e.g. Thiam, Des contes et des fables en Afrique noire, Presence afr. 4,1948;
B. Dadi6, L e rAle de la llgende dans la culture populoire des noire d Afrique,
ibid. 14/15, 1957; Colin 1957(Presenceafr. publication); E. A. Adewa, 'Qualities
of African Folklore , Nigeria 15, 1938.

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tale). Also stories arc sometimes told to educate or admonish

children, and this class o f talcs may even have a special local term.1
B ut there is no evidence at all to suggest that this is the only or
the primary aim o f the stories and plenty o f evidence that many
African tales contain neither direct nor indirect moralizing. T h is
single Hausa story is m erely one o f innumerable examples o f this.
H ere a realistic appraisal o f the ways o f the world outshadows, even
ridicules, any attem pt to moralize.
F A L S E H O O D IS M O R E P R O F IT A B L E T H A N T R U T H
(Hausa)

This is about certain Men, the King of Falsehood and the King of
Truth,* who started off on a journey together, and the King of Lies said
to the King of Truth that he [the latter] should get food for them on the
first day. They went on, and slept in a town, but they did not get any
thing to eat, and next morning when they had started again on the road,
the King of Truth said to the King of Lies In the town where we shall
sleep to-night you must get our food', and the King of Lies said
Agreed.
They went on, and came to a large city, and lo, the Mother of the
K ing of this city had just died, and the whole city was mourning, and
saying The Mother o f the K ing of this city has died. Then the King
o f Lies said What is making you cry? And they replied The Kings
Mother is dead. Then he said You go and tell the King that his Mother
shall arise. [So they went and told the King, and] he said Where are
these Strangers? And the People replied See them here. So they were
taken to a large house, and it was given to them to stay in.
In the evening, the K ing o f Lies went and caught a Wasp, the kind of
Insect which makes a noise like 'K u r u r u n and he came back, and put
it in a small tin, and said Let them go and show him the grave. When
he had arrived, he examined the grave, and then he said Let everyone
go away. No sooner had they gone, than he opened the mouth o f the
grave slightly, he brought the Wasp and put it in, and then closed the
mouth as before. Then he sent for the King, and said that he was to
come and put his ear to the grave meanwhile this Insect was buzzing
and when the King o f the city had come, the King o f Lies said Do you
hear your Mother talking ? Then the King arose; he chose a Horse and
1 e.g. the Ila kaskum (byword) stories which, unlike other He stories, have
a definite didactic aim (Smith and Dale ii, 1920, p. 343).
* These titles do not refer to the powets of good and evil, much less to God
and Satan. King or chief is merely a title, and corresponds somewhat to our
captain.

Prose Narratives II. Content and Form

379

gave it to the King of Lies; he brought Women and gave them to him;
and the whole city began to rejoice because the Kings Mother was
going to rise again.
Then the King of Lies asked the King of the city if it was true that
his Father was dead also, and the K ing replied Yes, he is dead. So the
King o f Lies said Well, your Father is holding your Mother down in
the grave; they are quarrelling, and he continued Your Father, if he
comes out, will take away the chieftainship from you, and he said that
his Father would also kill him. When the King had told the Towns
people this, they piled up stones on the grave,1 and the King said Here,
King of Lies, go away; I give you these horses, and he continued that
so far as his Mother was concerned, he did not want her to appear either.
Certainly falsehood is more profitable than truth in this world.2
Other aspects which could be further explored are the various
literary conventions in the narrations o f particular cultures. By
this I mean not so much the larger questions like plot or character,
though these too deserve more study, but points like phraseology,
stock treatment o f certain minor episodes, favourite allusions, and
the kind o f openings and conclusions that arc found satisfying or
attractive in a particular culture.
T h e type o f language used often seems to be simple and straight
forward. T h is is, however, at tim es rendered less prosaic by various
devices, including a more frequent use o f ideophones, dramatic
delivery and dialogues, and the interruption o f the prose exposition
by songs. T h e language o f the stories shows little o f the allusive
and obscure quality o f some African poetry (except in the inter
polated songs). But on this whole subject we have so far merely
impressions; much further detailed investigation of the language
o f narratives as actually delivered is still required.3
A bout opening and closing formulas we do know a great deal.
In various forms these are comm on in all areas o f A frica (though
it is not always clear how far they are obligatory for a ll tellers
rather than idiosyncratic to particular informants): they occur too
frequently to need detailed references.4 Thus among the Kam ba,
So as to keep the father in.
1 Tremeame 1913, pp. 204-6.
1 There is a good description of style in Mende story-telling in Innes 1964;
see also A . M . Jones and H. Carter, T h e Style of a Tonga Historical Narrative,
A ft. Language Studies 8, 1967.
4 Possibly they are not so frequent in southern Africa, but this impression
may be due to lack of interest by local collectors or because I have missed this
point in the sources.

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Prose

tellers end their stories with various stylized forms, usually a

wish for narrator and audience to the formers advantage: M ay
you become rich in vermin in your provision-shed, but I in cows
in m y cattle-kraal, M ay your cattle eat earth and mud, but mine
the good grass, or, finally, 'Y o u d better swing with the tail of
a panther while I swing with that o f a sheep in other words the
teller is to be better off than his listeners (a sheeps tail is fat and
edible) and the audience had better learn to tell stories themselves.1
Other closing formulas include the Nigerian liura D o not take
m y life, take the life of a crocodile (notorious for its long life), the
Swahili I f this is good, its goodness belongs to us all, and if it is
bad, its badness belongs to that one alone who made this story,
the Angolan Kimbundu I have told m y little story, whether
good or bad, the Hausa O ff with the rats head, or the Akan
T h is m y story, which I have related, if it be sweet, (or) if it be
not sweet, take some elsewhere, and let some come back to
me.2 In these closing formulas the narrator hands over, as it
were, to the audience, as well as making it clear that his story is
concluded.
Conversely the opening formulas serve to rouse the interest of
the audience, sometimes eliciting a formal response from them
as well as setting the mood for the start of the narration. Am ong
the Fjort of West Equatorial Africa the narrator opens with Let
us tell another story; let us be off! ; the narrator repeats Let us be
off : the audience replies Pull away! ; and the narrator can then
embark on the story itself.1 Similarly, among the West African
Ewe, where a narrator is usually accompanied by a drum, a few
beats arc first played to call attention and then the narrator an
nounces his subject: 'M y story is o f so-and-so ; the audience
replies We hear or W e take it up and the recital begins.4 M any
other formal introductory phrases could be m entioned: the Hausa
A story, a story. L et it go, let it come, or See her (the spider),
' see her there with the reply L et her come, and let us hear, the
Central African Nilyam ba A story. H ow does it go?, or the
famous Akan We do not really mean, we do not really mean [that
1 Lindblom i, 1928, p. xi; Mbiti 1959, p. 255.
* A. D. Helser, African Stories, New York, 1930, p. x i; Steere 1906, p. 137;
Chatelain 1894, pp. 21, 51, 63; Rattray i, 1913, pp. 48, 66, etc. (and cf. the long
closing Hausa form given in Tremeame 1913, pp. 1 i - iz ) ; Rattray 1930, p. 3, etc.
1 Dennett 1898, p. 25.
4 Ellis 1890, p. 269.

Prose Narratives II. Content and Form

381

what w e are going to say is true].1 A ll such phrases serve to involve

the audience directly in the narration and to mark the formal
opening or close o f the story.
There are also other less obvious phrases which are worth
study. Th ese are, so to speak, the internal formulas by w hich the
story is begun and ended. T h u s all L im ba stories tend to open
(after the introductory formulas) w ith a phrase setting them firm ly
in the fairly remote past (rather like our Once upon a tim e)
A woman once came out (on the earth), A spider once got up
and . . . , A chief once married a w ife . . . , and so on. A K am ba
tale often opens with the more dramatic How did it happen . . .,*
the K im bundu with the generalizing I often tell o f . . .,3 w hile the
L uba em ploy what is perhaps a favourite device for bringing
the protagonists directly and vivid ly on to the stage by an opening
like T h a t w hich did leopard and bushbuck (or w hoever the
main actors are).4 T h e stock endings, in both phraseology and
situation, are also interesting. T h ere is the common H ausa con
clusion they remained ; the L im ba return home, marriage, or
formal reporting to some authority o f the adventures undergone
b y the hero; or the frequent conclusion in Ila fool stories about
how the events have now become a byw ord, as A nd to this day
it is put on record. W hen a person looks for a thing he has got, they
say: Y ou are like yon man who looked for the axe that was on his
shoulder .5 These may seem very trivial points, but in fact the
study o f them, in the context o f a large collection o f narratives
from one area, can throw light both on the conventional elements
involved the phraseology and presentation thought suitable and
also on the attitude of the narrator him self to the story he is telling.
O n a slightly higher level, in studies of stories the literary con
ventions peculiar to a culture about the treatment of certain motifs
and situations could often be m ore emphasized. T h u s when one
sees a relatively large selection o f K am ba stories, it emerges that
one o f the stock climaxes is for the monster, about to die, to tell
his conqueror to cut off his little finger; when this is done, all the
people and the cattle devoured in the course o f the story come to
life again.6 Similarly, in Z u lu stories a stock way o f killing an
Rattray 1913, loc. cit., and Tremeame 1913, p. i t ; F. Johnson, 'Kiniramba
Folk Tales , Bantu Studies 5, 1931, p. 34<>. etc.; Rattray 1930, pp. 49 , S3 . e,c* Lindblom i, 1928, p. x.
J Chatelain 1894, pp. s i , 43 . S3 , etc.
W . F. P. Burton. A Luba Folk-tale , Bantu Studies 9, 1935. PP- 69. 75 Smith and Dale ii, 1920, p. 407.
6 Lindblom i, 1928, p. ix.
8151314

cc

Prose

382

enem y is to give him a bag o f snakes and scorpions to open,1

'while the detu ex machine in Luba stories is usually a little dirty
old woman who lives in the woods and who appears at the critical
moment.3 Similarly w e can find many other cases o f stereotyped
and yet, through that very fact, markedly allusive and meaningful
treatments o f particular episodes. There is the pregnant but outw ardly simple L im ba com m ent in a story he sharpened his sword*,
w hich at once hints at drama and danger to come, or their econo
m ical indication o f the horror, finality, and shock o f finding a dead
b ody lying on the floor b y a brief reference to the flies buzzing
round the corpse. Both these motifs occur in several narrations;
yet their full impact w ould not emerge were they not known to
b e common and yet allusive literary stereotypes.
E ven more important than the points mentioned so far is the
need for further study o f the delivery and dramatic performance o f
A frican stories. Since these narratives are oral ones, to ignore this
aspect is to miss one o f their most significant features. T h e vivid
ness, subtlety, and drama w ith w hich stories are often delivered
have often been noted in general terms b y those w ho know a lot
about the literature th ey present (as distinct from collectors who
m erely reproduce texts w ritten for them b y employees). One o f
the best single descriptions o f African stories, for example, allied
to a full appreciation o f the social context, is that o f Smith and
D ale on Ila stories; w hen they come to pointing to the difficulties
encountered b y foreign readers in fully appreciating the literary
value o f the tales, they concentrate, significantly, on precisely this:
W e have to reconcile ourselves to the fact that for us, at least, it is
impossible to do justice to these tales, and we doubt if the most skilful
hand could reproduce in a translation the quaintness, the liveliness, and
humour of the original. . . . They gradually lose flavour as they pass
from the Africans telling, first into writing and then into a foreign
idiom. It would need a combination of phonograph and kinematograph
to reproduce a tale as it is told. One listens to a clever story-teller, as was
our old friend Mungalo, from whom we. derived many of these tales.
Speak of eloquence Here was no lip mumbling, but every muscle of
face and body spoke, a,swift gesture often supplying the place of a
whole sentence. He would have made a fortune as a raconteur upon the
English stage. The animals spoke each in its own tone: the deep rumb
ling voice of Momba, the ground hornbill, for example, contrasting

1 E. J. Krige, The Social System o f the Zulus, Pietermaritzburg, 1936, p. 357.

* Stappers 1962, p. 17.

Prose Narratives II. Content and Form

383

vividly with the piping accents o f Sulwe, the hare. It was all good to
listen to impossible to put on paper. Ask him now to repeat the story
slowly so that you may write it. You will, with patience, get the gist of
it, but the unnaturalness of the circumstance disconcerts him, your
repeated request for the repetition o f a phrase, die absence of the
encouragement of his friends, and, above all, the hampering slowness
of your pen, all combine to kill the spirit of story-telling. Hence we
have to be content with far less than the tales as they are told. And the
tales need effort o f imagination to place readers in the stead of the
original listeners.1
Junod too, in describing the stories o f the Thonga and o f the
Southern Bantu in general, stresses the same fact. T h e story
tellers live and act the tales rather than just telling them. N o
written version, however accurate in language or translation, could
hope to reproduce the real atmosphere o f the actual narration.2
A similar description is given b y D oke o f the art o f the Lam ba
story-teller:
T o reproduce such stories with any measure of success, a gramo
phone record together with a cinematograph picture would be necessary.
The story suffers from being put into cold p r in t. . J
In m y own study o f Lim ba stories, the single characteristic that
I found both most striking and most incommunicable in writing
was just this the way narrators could add subtlety and drama,
pathos or humour, characterization or detached comment by the
way they spoke as much as by the w ords themselves.
In the m ajority o f published collections o f African tales not
even a token reference i$ made to this fact. Detailed studies tend to
be lacking. W e are practically never told, for instance, about the
accepted stylistic devices through w hich the performer makes his
narrations more effective, or o f individual differences between
various narrators in respect o f this skill. I have tried to treat these
questions in a preliminary w ay for Lim ba story-tellers. Since
this account is easily accessible,4 I w ill here merely mention some
o f the general factors often involved in delivery.
First there is the way in which stories are dramatized, the
narrator taking on the personalities o f the various characters,
1 Smith and Dale ii, 1920, pp. 334-6.
* Junod 1938, p. 58.
> Doke 1927, p. xiii. For some other good descriptions o f the narrators art
see e.g. Roger 1828, pp. 9 & (Wolof); TriUes 1932, pp. 234-5, 240 (Pygmies);
Tremeame 1913, pp. 27-9.
4 Finnegan 1967.

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Prose

acting out their dialogue, their facial expressions, even their gestures
and reactions. This point is worth remembering when one is
tempted to complain o f the shadowy or crude characterization of
many personalities in A frican stories it is not necessary to for
mulate all this in words w hen a good narrator can present it much
more economically and subtly in performance. T h e narrator does
not enact the actions o f the characters in the full sense: this is
dramatized narrative and not actually drama. B ut even from his
seat or when, as happens occasionally, he stands or moves within
the circle of listeners, he can vividly suggest the acts and feelings
o f his characters by the use o f dramatic dialogue or through
expressions on his face or gestures o f hand or body.
Actual mimicry o f a humorous and satirical kind seems most
common in the case o f animal characters. Som e attempt at copying
the cries and sounds o f birds or animals in a stylized form is
frequently mentioned as a characteristic o f story-tellers. In Hausa
stories, for instance, special words are used to imitate the sounds
o f dogs quarrelling and barking, the wildcats call, and the crow
o f the rooster, with the w ords intoned to resemble the animal
sounds. Speeches by animal characters are often sung, sometimes
in falsetto, and always with a nasal twang.1 T h e Bushmen have
a specialized form of this in the speech conventionally attributed
to certain animals (and the moon) in stories; the Blue Crane, for
instance, adds tt to the first syllable o f almost every word, whereas
the tortoises lisping makes him change all the clicks and other
initial consonants into labials.2 Though not so complex as the
Bushman example, similar stylized and imitative speech attributed
to animals occurs widely in African narrations.
T h e actual delivery and treatment o f the w ords themselves is
also relevant. Even w hen he does not choose to elaborate any
extremes of dramatization, the narrator can and does create vivid
effects by variations and exaggerations o f speed, volume, and tone.
He can use abrupt breaks, pregnant pauses, parentheses, rhetorical
questions as he watches the audiences reactions and exploits his
freedom to choose his w ords as well as his mode o f delivery.
A form of onomatopoeia is often used to add elegance and vivid
ness to the narration. A style plentifully embroidered with ideo1 Tremeame 1913, p. 28.
* See especially D. F. Bleek, Special Speech of Animals and Moon used by
|Xam Bushmen, Bantu Studies 10, 1936.

Prose Narratives II. Content and Form

385

phones is one o f the striking characteristics o f an effective story

teller. W e can actually hear the sound o f a Lim ba boy leaping
into a lake (tirit)!), the noise o f the Akan spider hitting the ceiling
(kado/), the L uba onomatopoeic expression o f a chase (kwatakioata-kwata), or the tortoise swim ming (sekiseki seki) and pheasant
fluttering its wings (/w fu fu ) in M abale tales. In this way the action
is dramatized by a skilful teller.
In all this the participation o f the audience is essential. It is
common for members o f it to be expected to make verbal con
tributions spontaneous exclamations, actual questions, echoing
o f the speakers words, emotional reaction to the development o f
yet another parallel and repetitious episode. Further, the audience
contributes the choruses o f the songs so often introduced into the
narration, and without which, in m any cases, the stories would be
only a bare framework o f words.
Songs are characteristic o f African tales all over the continent.
T h ey do not occur in every story, and in some cases there are local
distinctions between prose and choric stories.' But songs are
infinitely more common than would appear from a cursory reading
o f the published collections. Since the songs are almost always so
much m ore difficult to record than prose, they are usually omitted
in published versions; even when they are included, the extent to
which they are repeated and the proportion of time they occupy
compared to spoken narration is often not made clear. V et the
singing can at times become the main element of the story So
much so that in many tales the narrative is to it no more than a
frame is to a picture .2 Or, as Steere writes of the Swahili:
Frequently the skeleton of the story seems to be contained in tltese
snatches of singing, which the story-teller connects by an extemporized
account of the intervening history.1
Similar comments could be made on narrations from m any areas
in A frica, though the emphasis on singing varies not only with the
type o f tale involved but also, in some cases, with the individual
teller. A m ong the Limba, for instance, -I found that certain in
dividuals were particularly fond o f songs so that the singing, with
much repetition of the choruses, took up more time than the
words, and the plot and verbal element were little developed; other
1 e.g. Lnmba (Doke 1934, p. 358).
* Torrend 1921, p. 3.
* Steere 1906, p. vii.

38 6

Prose

narrators on the other hand only introduced songs or recitative

rarely, and then m erely as an ornament. But in spite o f these
variations, it is safe to say that singing is an element that is worth
looking for in tales o f all kinds (except, probably, specialized
historical narratives) all over Africa.
T h ese songs fulfil various functions in the narrative. T h ey often
mark the structure o f the story in a clear and attractive way. Thus,
i f the hero is presented as going through a series o f tests or adven
tures, the parallel presentation o f episode after episode is often
cut into b y the singing o f a song b y narrator and audience. Further,
the occurrence o f songs adds a musical aspect an extra dimension
o f both enjoyment and skill. In some areas (particularly parts o f
W est and W est Equatorial Africa) this musical element is further
enhanced b y drum or instrumental accompaniment or prelude to
the narration.1 T h e soilgs also provide a formalized means for
audience participation. T h e common pattern is for the words o f
the song, whether familiar or new, to be introduced by the narra
tor, w ho then acts as leader and soloist while the audience provide
the chorus.2
H aving discussed the significance o f the actual performance of
stories, w e can raise the question o f the individual contributions
o f the various narrators. Even if there are conventionally recog
nized ways o f enhancing delivery, the narrator can exploit these
and, in the last analysis, is responsible for all the aspects of per
formance already mentioned. It is evident then that one way of
discovering the extent o f the individual artistry involved in the
narration o f African stories is through the investigation o f in
dividual narrators relevant skills and idiosyncrasies.
Composition as well as performance is involved. T h e narrator of
a story is likely to introduce his own favourite tricks of verbal
style and presentation and to be influenced in his wording by the
audience and occasion; thus he will produce linguistic variations
on the basic theme different from those o f his fellows or even from
his own on a different occasion. In addition to this, there is the
individual treatment o f the various incidents, characters, and
1 e.g. Yoruba, Ewe, cx-French Equatorial Africa, Bulu (Ellis 1894, p. 243;
Ellis 1890, p. 269; Nassau 1914, p. 5; A. N. Krug, Bulu Tales , J A F 62,1949,
P- 3 SO).
1 For further points on songs in stories (including some examples) and the
common modes of antiphony see Ch. 9. See also Innes 1963; Belinga 1965,
pp. ss ff.

Prose Narratives II. Content and Form

387

motifs, these do not emerge w hen only one version o f the story
appears in published form. Finally, there are the occasions when,
in a sense, a 'new story is created. Episodes, motifs, conventional
characters, stylistic devices which are already part o f the conven
tional literary background on w hich the individual artist can draw
arc bound together and presented in an original and individual
way.
T h is real originality, as it appears to the foreigner, is really
only a difference in degree, for there is seldom any concept o f a
correct version. In all respects the narrator is free to choose his
own treatment and most stories arise from the combination and
recombination o f motifs and episodes with which the individual
is free to build. Stories are thus capable o f infinite expansion,
variation, and embroidery by narrators, as they are sewn together
in one mans imagination.1 T h e subject-matter too on w hich such
artists draw is by no means fixed, and the common picture o f
a strict adherence to traditional and unchanging themes is quite
false. N ot only are there multiple references to obviously recent
material introductions like guns, money, books, lorries, horse
racing, new buildings but the w hole plot of a story can centre
round an episode like an imaginary race to the Secretariat build
ing in a colonial capital to gain government recognition for an
official position (Limba), a man going off to get work in Johannes
burg and leaving his wife to get into trouble at home (Thonga),
or a young hero winning the football pools (Nigeria). T h e occu
pations and preoccupations of both present and past, the back
ground o f local and changing literary conventions, and the current
interests o f both teller and listeners all these make up the material
on which the gifted narrator can draw and subject to the originality
of his own inspiration.
T h e question o f the originality o f the individual teller, whether
in performance or composition, is one of the most neglected
aspects o f A frican oral narratives. T h a t so obvious a point o f
interest should have been overlooked can be related to various
constricting theoretical presuppositions about African oral art
* For further comments on this aspect see e.g. Theal 1886, pp. v iiff.;
Finnegan 1967, pp. 94 ff.; Junod ii, 1913, pp. 218 ff.; Stoppers 1962, pp. 14 ff.
Cf. also Propps interesting analysis of the 'functions or stable and constant
elements in (Russian) folktales though his approach seems a little too for
malistic for direct application to the African field (V. Propp, Morphology o f the
Folktale, tr. L . Scott, Bloomington, 1958).

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Prose

that have been dominant in the past: the assumption about the
significance o f the collective aspect, i.e. the contribution by the
folk or the masses rather than the individual; the desire to find
and record the traditional tribal story, with no interest in variant
or individual forms; and, finally, the prejudice in favour o f the
traditional, with its resultant picture o f African oral art as static
and unchanging through the years and the consequent explicit
avoidance of new or intrusive stories. It is worth stressing here
yet again that the neglect o f this kind of point, one which seems so
self-evidently a question to pursue in the case o f any genre o f
literature, is not primarily due to any basis in the facts or to any
proven lack of originality by African literary artists, but to this
theoretical background o f b y now very dubious assumptions. Now
that the dominance o f m any o f these theories is passing, at least in
some circles, it is to be trusted that far more attention will be paid to
this question of authorship and originality in A frican oral literature.
T h is final section on the various aspects o f oral prose narratives
which, hitherto neglected, now demand further emphasis has had
one underlying theme. T h a t is, that the many questions which we
would normally expect to pursue in the analysis o f any literary
genre should also be followed up in the case o f these African
stories. That this obvious approach has tended to be obscured is
largely due to the limiting theoretical assumptions o f the past that
were discussed earlier. T h e stories are in fact far mbre flexible,
adaptable, and subtle than would appear from the many tradi
tionally-orientated published collections and accounts; if certain
types and themes are dying out, others are arising, with new con
texts and themes that provide a fruitful field o f study. Once we
can free our appreciation o f past speculations, we can see these
stories as literary form s in their own right. W hile some of the
questions such as the significance of occasion, o f delivery, or of
audience participation, arise from their oral nature, others, such as
the literary and social conventions o f a particular literary form, its
purpose and functions, and the varying interpretations of in
dividual artists, are the traditional questions o f literary analysis.
These aspects concern both the literary scholar and the sociologist
who want to understand the at once subtle and significant role
o f literature in a given society, and their study would seem to
provide the greatest potential for further advance in our knowledge
o f African oral prose narratives.

14

PROVERBS
T h e significance and concept o f the proverb. Form and style.
Content. Occasions and functions. Specific exam ples: Jabo;
Z u lu ; A zande. Conclusion

I
P r o v e r b s seem to occur almost everywhere in Africa, in apparent

contrast w ith other areas o f the w orld such as aboriginal Am erica

and Polynesia. Relatively easy to record, they have been excecdingly popular w ith collectors. Particularly well represented are
proverbs from the Bantu area (especially the Southern Bantu);
the Congo and W est Africa have also provided many extensive
collections. It is notable, however, that there are apparently few
or no proverbs among the Bushm en o f southern A frica and the
N ilotic peoples,1 and few seem to have been recorded in N iloHamitic languages. In other areas proverbs seem universal and in
some A frican languages occur in rich profusion. Four thousand
have been published in Rundi, for instance, about 3,000 in
Nkundo, and roughly 2,000 in L u b a and Hausa. In addition
Bascom lists about thirty other A frican peoples for whom 500 or
more proverbs have been recorded.2 Also many editors say that
they doubt whether their collections are complete.
T h e literary relevance o f these short sayings is clear. Proverbs
are a rich source of imagery and succinct expression on which
more elaborate forms can draw. A s N ketia puts it in his comm ent
on Ghanaian proverbs
The value of the proverb to us in modem Ghana does not lie only in
what it reveals of the thoughts of the past. For the poet today or indeed
for the speaker who is some sort of an artist in the use of words, the
proverb is a model of compressed or forceful language. In addition to
1 C . M . Doke, 'A Preliminary Investigation into the State of the Native
Languages of South Africa, Bantu Studies 7, 1933, p. 6; Evam-Pritchord
19636, p. 109.
* Bascom 1964, pp\ 16-17; cf. Doke 1947, pp. 115-17; Whitting 1940.

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drawing on it for its words o f wisdom, therefore, he takes interest in its

verbal techniques its selection of words, its use o f comparison as a
method o f statement, and so on. Familiarity with its techniques
enables him to create, as it were, his own proverbs. This enables him
to avoid hackneyed expressions and give a certain amount of freshness
to his speech.
This . . . approach to proverbs which is evident in the speech of
people who are regarded as accomplished speakers or poets of a sort
makes the proverbs not only a body of short statements built up over
the years and which reflect the thought and insight o f Ghanaians into
problems o f life, but also a technique of verbal expression, which is
greatly appreciated by the Ghanaian. It is no wonder therefore that the
use of proverbs has continued to be a living tradition in Ghana.1
In many African cultures a feeling for language, for imagery,
and for the expression o f abstract ideas through compressed and
allusive phraseology com es out particularly clearly in proverbs.
T h e figurative quality o f proverbs is especially striking; one o f
their most noticeable characteristics is their allusive wording,
usually in metaphorical form . T h is also emerges in many o f the
native words translated as proverb and in the general stress
often laid on the significance o f speaking in symbolic terms.
Indeed, this type o f figurative expression is sometimes taken so
far as to be almost a w hole mode o f speech in its own right. T h e
Fulani term maUol fo r instance, means not only a proverb but
also illusion in general, and is especially used when there is some
deep hidden m eaning in a proverb different from the obvious one.2
Sim ilarly with th e K am ba term ttdimo. T h is does not exactly cor
respond to our term proverb but is its nearest equivalent, and
really means a 'dark saying or metaphorical wording, a sort o f
secret and allusive language.3
T h e literary significance o f proverbs in A frica is also brought out
b y their close connection w ith other form s o f oral literature. T h is
is sometimes apparent in the local terminology, for proverbs are
not always distinguished b y a special term from other categories
o f verbal art. T h e N yanja mwambi, for instance, refers to story,
riddle, or proverb, the Ganda olugero means, among other things,
a saying, a story, a proverb, and a parable,4 and the M ongo boholo
is used o f all poetic expression including fable, proverb, poetry,
* J. H. Nketia, Folklore of Ghana*, The Ghanaian 1, 1958, p. 21.
1 Gaden 1931, p. vi.
1 Lindblom iii, 1934, p. 28.
* Doke 1947, p. 102.

Proverbs

391

and allegory.' T h is overlap in terms is fairly common in Bantu

languages and also sometimes occurs in W est Africa too: the
Lim ba mboro refers to story, riddle, and parable as w ell as to
sayings w hich w e might term proverbs, while the Fulani tindol
can mean not only a popular moral story but also a proverb or
maxim.*
In some languages (such as Y orub a o r Zulu) a distinction does
exist in term inology between proverbs and other types o f literary
expression.3 B u t even here there is often a practical connection
between proverbs and other form s o f oral literature. Chatelain
pointed out that K im bundu proverbs are closely related to anec
dotes, so m uch so that anecdotes are sometimes just illustrations
o f a proverb, w hile a proverb is frequently an anecdote in a nut
shell.* Again, the Nyanja proverb P ity killed the francolin' is
a direct allusion to the story in w hich the francolin came to the
help o f a python and was in return eaten b y it.5 Similar connections
between story and proverb are mentioned for the Azande, Zulu,
Ashanti, and m any others, and a m oralizing story may end with,
or imply, a proverb to drive home its p o in t A s well, proverbs
frequently appear in songs and poems. T h e drum proverbs o f
Ghana o r D ahom ey are particularly striking examples here. A m ong
other instances w e could mention th e Nguni saying T h e earth
does not get fat (i.e. however m any dead it receives the earth is
never satiated) w hich also appears as the central theme and chorus
in an impressive Ngoni lament,6 and the Swahili poem about
silence based on the proverb M u ch silence has a m ighty noise
(Still waters run deep) but elaborated and drawn out in the verses
arising from it.7 W ritten forms too sometimes make use o f tra
ditional proverbs, as in M uyakas Swahili poems, and these in
turn m ay give further currency to new or old proverbs.8 Proverbs
are also sometimes connected with riddles9 or, as am ong the
Liberian Jabo, with praise names.10 T h e y also frequently occur in
general conversation and in oratory to embellish, conceal, or hint.
1 Hulstaert 1958, p. 6.
11 Gaden 1931, p. vi.
1 There ore also several cases where there are both a general term, covering
both proverbs and other types o f verbal art, and, in addition, a more precise
* Chatelain 4894, p. ax.
term referring to proverbs only.
* Gray 1944, p. 102.
* See Ch. 7 above, pp. 151-a.
Taylor 1891, pp. 32-3.
* Doke 1947, p. 105.
, e.g. the Anang 'proverb-riddles discussed below, p. 431.
11 Herzog 1936, p. 12.

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Prose

Proverbs, in short, are closely interwoven w ith other aspects of

linguistic and literary behaviour.
A s well as these obvious and common ways in w hich proverbs
overlap with other kinds o f verbal art, they also appear in certain
specialized forms. Their use in the form o f proverb names is one.
Am ong the Ovimbundu, to give one example, the womans name
Simbovala is a shortened form o f the proverb W hile you mark
out a field, Death marks you out in life in life you are in the
midst o f death.1 Another connection is with bird lore, a form par
ticularly popular among the Southern Bantu. T h e cries attributed
to certain birds can be expressed as a proverb or a song. T h e
hammerkop, for instance, can be referred to as a sym bol o f vanity
either in a brief proverb or in the full song in which he is repre
sented as praising himself at length;2 the songs here are thus in
extricably linked with the proverbs. Proverbs are also sometimes
connected with other artistic media: they can be drummed (a
characteristic form in some W est African societies), sung, as with
Lega judicial proverbs,3 or can appear on the flags o f military
companies, as among the Fante.4 M ost striking o f all is the way the
Ashanti associate a certain proverb with one or other o f their
many gold-weights small brass figures and images originally
used to weigh gold dust and worked with great skill and humour.
T h u s a snake catching a bird represents the proverb T h e snake
lies upon the ground, but G o d has given him the hornbiU (that
flies in the sky). Another weight depicts two crocodiles with only
a single stomach between them , representing 'Bellies mixed up,
crocodiles mixed up, w e have between us only one belly, but if
we get anything to eat it passes down our respective gullets
a famous proverb often cited when one individual in a family
tries to seize for himself rather than sharing.5
Certain o f the direct associations between proverbs and other
artistic forms such as m etalwork or drumming m ay be peculiar
to certain African societies, but the general association o f proverbs
and other forms of literature is not after all very surprising. These
' Ennis 1945, P- 3- On names in general see Ch. 16.
1 Ch. 9, p. 249.
1 A. E. Meeussen, Aktiespreuken bij de Lega, Kongo-Oversee 25, 1959,
p. 73.
4 Christensen 1958, p. 240.
* R. S. Rattray, Ashanti, Oxford, 1923, pp. 312-13. Cf. also D . Paulme, Les
poids-proverbes de la Cflte-d Ivoire au Musle de PHomme, J . Soc. africanistes
i t , 1941; M. W. Plass, African Miniatures, the GoUtveights o f the Ashanti,
London, 1967.

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393

close connections arc perhaps particularly characteristic o f an oral

literature without a clear-cut distinction between written and un
written forms, but the sort o f way in w hich proverbial expression
and other types of literary art (including the art of conversation)
mutually enrich and act upon each other is something which is
presumably a quality of most cultures. In this sense, then, pro
verbs in A frica are not so very different from those in any literate
culture, in both o f which their main impact seems, in fact, to be in
an oral rather than a written form. In neither case should they be
regarded as isolated sayings to be collected in hundreds or thousands
on their own, but rather as just one aspect o f artistic expression
within a w hole social and literary context.
T h e close connection of proverbs with other literary forms
raises a difficulty. How, particularly in an oral culture, can w e
distinguish proverbs from other forms, o f oral art? or, indeed,
from ordinary cliches and idioms, and from such related but
different form s as maxims and apophthegms ?
M ost o f the published collections ignore this point o f definition
and by m erely entitling their works Proverbs often give the mis
leading impression that these sayings are clearly differentiated
from other expressions or that they are in all ways equivalent to
our idea o f proverbs; Some of the best collections, such as those
o f Hulstaert, N yem bezi, Doke, or Chatelain, specifically point out
this difficulty, but most have little or no discussion o f this point.
T h e exact definition of proverb is no easy matter. T h ere is,
however, some general agreement as to what constitutes a proverb.
It is a saying in more or less fixed form marked by shortness,
sense, and salt and distinguished by the -popular acceptance of
the truth tersely expressed in it. Even so general a picture as this
contains some useful pointers for the analysis o f African proverbs.
First, their form. T h ey are picked out first and most obviously
as being short ; and secondly by the fact that even where the w ord
ing itself is not absolutely fixed, at least the main structural
pattern is accepted in the society concerned as an appropriate one
for this purpose. T h is question o f form has been well noted by
collectors and is pursued further in the following section. It will
emerge that, in addition to terseness and relative fixity, most say
ings classed as proverbs are also marked by some kind o f poetic
quality in style or sense, and are in this way set apart in form from
more straightforward maxims.

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T h e question of popular acceptance is, however, a more dif

ficult one. I f one o f the m arks o f a true proverb is its general accep
tance as the popular expression o f some truth, w e are seldom given
the data to decide how far this is indeed a characteristic o f the
sayings included in collections o f proverbs. In m any cases pre
sum ably the sayings included are proverbs in this full sense. But
w e have in fact no w ay o f telling whether some o f the proverbs
included are not just the sententious utterances o f a single in
dividual on a single occasion which happened to appeal to the
investigator.
T h e sort o f terminology involved can sometimes provide a clue
to the local attitude to 'proverbs. A s w e have seen, there is some
tim es a specialized term, sometimes not. T h is is not always made
clear b y collectors. E ven m ore serious is the frequent failure to
consider when, how, and b y or among whom common proverbs
are used.1 Even where something about the general context is given
w e are practically never told in detail how a given single proverb
was actually used.2 Y et, as'w ill emerge, this may in fact determine
its significance, the w ay in w hich it is appreciated locally, even its
meaning. T h is aspect is often crucial, if whether or not some attrac
tive saying is really a proverb depends on the local evaluation of
it. T h is question is made m ore difficult because proverbs often
have no specialized occasions for. their use. U nlike such forms as
riddles and stories they are not normally set apart as suitable for
relaxation after, say, the end o f the days work, but are closely
involved w ith speech and action on every sort o f occasion (includ
in g general conversation). T herefore to differentiate those sayings
w hich are merely idiomatic from those w hich the people concerned
consider to have that special flavour w hich makes it correct to call
them proverbs, w e need m ore precise information about context
and attitude than we are usually given.
T h is said, w e can in a general w ay accept most o f the published
sayings as falling, more or less, within the general category o f
proverb. B ut it is worth m aking these points about th e difficulties
inherent in differentiating proverbs i f it helps to deter yet more
facile collections and to encourage more consideration o f their
context. In the case o f proverbs above all, an understanding o f this
is essential.
1 A point well made in Arewa and Dundee 1964; cf. also Evans-Pritchard
1963a.
1 For some exceptions to this see pp. 418 ff. below.

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II

In discussing the style and structure of African proverbs one

o f the first things one notices is th e poetic form in which many
are expressed. T h is, allied to their figurative mode o f expression,
serves to some degree to set them apart from everyday speech.
T h is point often does not emerge in collections o f translated
examples. A more detailed discussion o f form in African proverbs is
therefore needed here to show these tw o characteristics more clearly.
T h e general truth touched on in a proverb can be conveyed in
several w ays: more or less literally, through a simile, or (most
commonly) through a metaphor.
T h e relatively literal forms o f proverbs often contain some
allusion or a picturesque form o f speech, and among certain
peoples at least are marked b y some poetic quality such as rhythm.
Examples o f this type are fairly comm on. The dying o f the heart
is a thing unshared, I f the ch ief speaks, the people make silent
their ears, and the humorous description of a drunkard, H e de
voured the Kaffir-beer and it devoured him, are instances from
South A frica.1 Comments on what is considered to be the real
nature o f people or things often occur in this form, as in the Thon ga
T h e W hite man has no kin. H is kin is money, the Xhosa descrip
tion o f Europeans as 'T h e people w h o rescue and kill (i.e. they
protect w ith one hand, destroy w ith th e other),2 or the w itty Akan
comment that A n ancient name cannot be cooked and eaten; after
all, m oney is the thing. General advice is also often tendered in
this sort o f form , as in the T h o n ga D is du mal du chef quand tu
quittes son pays or the humorous Ila injunction to hospitality in
the form o f T h e rum p o f a visitor is made to sit upon.4 I t is
true that several o f these (and similar) proverbs may also conceal
deeper meanings as well as picturesque language, but in explicit
form, in contrast to the clearly figurative, they present the thought
in a simple and straightforward w ay.5
* McLaren 1917, pp. 343, 338, 341.
* Junod 1938, p. 49; Theal 1886, p. 199.
1 Rattray 1916, p. 118.
* H. P. Junod, QueUpiet Proverbes thonga, Lausanne, 1931, no. 56; Smith and
Dale ii, 1920, p. 312.
> In these straightforward forms the veiling or allusiveness characteristic of
so much proverbial expression is sometimes in fact achieved by devices other
than direct imagery. Abbreviation is one common way (e.g. in the Ovimbundu
proverb-names); another is to express the proverb in some medium other than
verbal utterance, with drums, for instance, or through gold-weights (Ashanti).

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Prose

M ore often the proverbs are figurative in one w ay or another.

D irect similes occur fairly often. T h e Hausa, for example, say that
'A ch ief is like a dust-heap w here everyone comes w ith his rubbish
(complaint) and deposits it. 1 A m ong the Southern Bantu the liken
ing o f something to dew m elting away in the sun appears in many
form s: the Zulu suggest that something is only a passing phase by
asserting that This thing is like the dew which showers down, and
the comparison often appears in a more direct and concise form, as
with the Thonga W ealth is dew or N debele 'K in gship is dew.2
W ealth is another stock comparison, as in the Sw ahili W its (are)
wealth, or the vivid saying o f the Thonga and others that T o bear
children is wealth, to dress oneself is (nothing but) colours.3
M an y other examples o f these direct comparisons could be cited:
the Southern Bantu T o look at a man as at a snake (i.e. with
deadly hatred), or T o m arry is to put a snake in ones handbag ;4
the Ashanti proverbs Fam ily names are like flowers, they blossom
in clusters or A wife is like a blanket; when you cover yourself with
it, it irritates you, and yet if you cast it aside you feel cold ;5 and
the Xhosa H e is ripe inside, like a- water-melon, describing a
man who has come to a resolution without yet expressing it
publicly (one cannot tell if a water-melon is ripe from the outside).6
M ost frequent o f all, however, and the most adaptable are the
proverbs where comparison is evoked metaphorically. In this
form proverbs about animals and birds are very common indeed
(perhaps particularly in the Bantu areas); here, as in the tales
about animals and in certain praise names, a comment is often
being made about human life and action through reference to
non-human activity. Egotism , for instance, is commented on and
satirized in the Sotho I and m y rhinoceros said the tick bird
or the Ndau T h e worm in the cattle kraal says I am an ox ,
and among the Ila it is said o f squanderers T h e prodigal cow
threw away her own tail.7 Similarly, generalizations about animals
1 Tremeame 1913, p. 62.
* J. Stuart and D. MaJcoIm, Zulu Proverbs and Popular Sayings, Durban,
[194.9], p. 70; Junod 1938, p. 49; K . D. Leaver and C . L . S. Nyembezi, Pro
verbs Collected from the Amande6ele, Afr. Studies 5, 1946, p. 137.
1 W. E. Taylor 1891, p. a; Junod and Jaques 1936, no. 450.
* McLaren 1917, p. 336: Junod 1938, p. 50.
* Rattray 1916, pp. 125, 139.
6 Theal 1886, p. 194.
7 McLaren 1917, p. 3345 E. B. Jones, Ndau proverbs (manuscripts in Doke
Collection, U n iv e rsity College Library, Salisbury, S. Rhodesia); Smith and Dale
ii, 1920, p. 316.

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397

imply a comment on human affairs. T h u s the Th on ga T h e

strength of the crocodile isf in the w ater 1 can comment in various
ways, im plying from one point o f view that a man is strong when
his kinsmen help him, from another that a man should stick to his
own place and not interfere w ith others. T h e importance o f selfhelp is stressed in No tty catches for another,2 while the Zulu
generalization N o polecat ever sm elt its own stink alludes pic
turesquely to mans blindness and self-satisfaction.2
Though proverbs about animals are particularly common,
generalizations about other everyday things are also used to suggest
some related idea about people. T h e Zulu observe that man is
able to manage his own affairs through the metaphor that T h ere is
no grinding stone that got the better o f the miller, and the
Ndebele remind one that 'T h e maker o f a song does not spoil it
when w ishing to warn that it is not right to interfere w ith someone
w ho understands his own business.4 T h e Lam ba M etal that is
already welded together, how can one unweld it ? can be used in
the same sort o f w ay as our D o n t cry over spilt m ilk, w hile the
Thonga T h e nape o f the neck does not see alludes to the w ay
people get out o f control when the master o f the village is away.5
Perhaps even more common than the metaphorical generaliza
tion is the form in which a general or abstract idea is conveyed not
through any direct generalization at all but through a single con
crete situation w hich provides only one example o f the general
point. T h u s the Thonga T h e one w ho says Elephant die! I want
to ea t! I am on the way alludes to the w ay in w hich some people
are over-impatient instead o f taking the' time to do the jo b pro
perly, while a different point o f view is suggested in the specific
H ausa statement that T h e man w ith deepest eyes cant see the
m oon till it is fifteen days old in other words is so narrowly
concentrated that the obvious escapes him .6 T h e Zulu express the
general idea that people reap the fruit o f their own folly b y men
tioning specific situations: H e ate food and it killed him and T h e
wont-be-told man sees by the bloodstain.7 T h e frequent effects
1 Junod 1938, p. 47.
* McLaren 1917, p. 340.
F. Mayr, 'Zulu Proverbs', Anthropos 7, 1912, p. 958.
* Stuart and Malcolm, op. cit., p. 17; N. Jones, Sindebele Proverbs, Nada 3,
1925, p. 66.
5 Doke 1934, p. 361; Junod and Jaques 1936, no. 352.
6 Junod and Jaques 1936, no. 2; Whitting 1940, p. 3.
7 O. Ripp, Newspaper cuttings on Zulu proverbs, 1930 (Doke Collection,
University College Library, Salisbury, S. Rhodesia); Dunning 1946.
8161314

Od

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l*rose

o f over-confidence and officious advice are alluded to in the pointed

N yanja saying M r. H ad-it-been-I caused the baboons belonging
to someone else to escape, while they comment on fools from the
specific case o f M r. D id n t-know who took shelter from the rain in
the pond. 1 Fools are sim ilarly alluded to in the E w e I f a boy says he
wants to tie water w ith a string, ask him if he means the water in the
pot or the water in the lagoon.2 T h is hinting at a general or abstract
idea through one concrete case, either direct or itself metaphorical,
is a common proverbial form throughout the continent.
Hyperbole and exaggeration arc also frequent motifs, often in
addition to some o f the forms mentioned above. M any instances
could be cited, among them the common Bantu saying that I f you
are patient, you w ill see the eyes o f the snail, or T h e monitor has
gone dry, which alludes to the fact that even the monitor, famed
for its affection to its young, has come to the end and that the
guest has outstayed his welcom e!3 T h ere is the Fulani proverb
Y o u will not see an elephant moving on your own head, only the
louse moving on anothers ; and the Zulu description o f an un
blushing and flagrant liar, He milks also the cows heavy with calf*
he would actually go as far as saying he could milk cows before
they had calved.4 Paradox is also occasionally used with the same
kind o f effect, as in the Hausa comment on the effects o f idleness
(T h e want o f w ork to do makes a man get up early to salute his
enem y), or the cynical Ila remark He has the kindness o f a witch .5
T h e quality o f being far-fetched and humorous is used for similar
effect in the Z u lu reference to impossibility A goat m ay beget an
ox and a white man sew on a [native] head ring, the Yoruba H e
who waits to see a crab w ink will tarry long upon the shore, the
N yanja 'L ittle by little the tortoise arrived at the Indian Ocean,
or the exaggerated Y orub a equivalent o f our idea that one reaps
as one sows O ne w ho excretes on the road, w ill find flies when
he returns.*
T h e allusions o f proverbs in the various collections are often not
obvious. T h is is frequently due to our ignorance o f the culture,
particularly w ith proverbs which allude to some well-known
* Gray 1944, pp. n a , 117.
* Ellis 1890, p. 260.
* Werner 1906, p. 212; McLaren 1917, p. 335.
4 Whitting 1940, p. 160; Nyembezi 1954, p. 40.
* Whitting 1940, p. 121; Smith and Dale ii, 1920, p. 323.
4 J. G . Stuhardt, A Collection of Zulu Proverbs, Nada 8, 1930, p. 69; Ellis
1894, p. 237; Gray 1944, p. 110; Gbadamosi and Beicr 1959, p. 60.

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399

story or famous individual. A knowledge o f the situations in

which proverbs are cited may also be an essential part o f under
standing their implications, and this is complicated further b y the
fact that the same proverb may often be used, according to the
context, to suggest a variety o f different truths, or different facets
o f the same truth, or even its opposite. Some proverbs, further
more, are obscure even to local individuals or groups. W e cannot,
then, expect African proverbs to be crystal-clear or to be able to
grasp in each case the modes through which they figuratively or
picturesquely suggest certain truths. However, it does seem that
the main ways in which these arc expressed are the ones already
mentioned: b y a straight, relatively literal statement; by similes;
by various types o f metaphor (often comparisons with animals or
with one particular case suggesting a generalization); and b y hyper
bole and paradox.
H aving considered some o f the general forms in which proverbs
appear w e can now look at the detailed stylistic devices which
these m ainly figurative sayings em ploy to make their points effec
tively. U nlike stories and songs, the performance does not generally
seem to be o f importance. Rather, proverbs rely for their effect on
the aptness with w hich they are used in a particular situation and
the point considered here on the style and form o f words in w hich
they appear.1
Proverbs are generally marked b y terseness o f expression, by
a form different from that o f ordinary speech, and by a figurative
mode o f expression abounding in metaphor. T h e first two charac
teristics can be treated together here with illustrations from the
Bantu group o f languages. T h ere are no general.rules for the
formation o f Bantu proverbs and particular peoples have their
own favourite forms, but certain com m on patterns are apparent.
Pithiness and economy are always noticeable in proverbs, but in
the Bantu languages this can be achieved particularly effectively
through the system o f concord. T h e subject noun, fo r example,
can be omitted as in It is worked while still fresh (i.e. M ake
hay while the sun shines), where the concord makes clear that
it refers to clay.2 Economy o f w ording is also often achieved
through elision: not only are w hole w ords left out (often for the
sake o f rhythm ) but vowels are frequently elided, especially the
* On form and style the best discussion is that by Doke (1947) on Bantu
proverbs, and his account is followed closely here* Doke 1947, p. 106.

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final vowel o f a word.1 T h e terse expression grammatically possible

in Bantu can be illustrated from a Tswana proverb, Young
birds will always open their mouths, even to those who come to
kill them', which in the original is only three words.2 Furthermore,
proverbs are often quoted in abbreviated form s; in Bantu lan
guages these are almost always prefered to more drawn-out forms.3
T h e actual wording may take the form o f a simple positive or
negative proposition, as in the Swahili T h e goat-eater pays a cow
(i.e. sow the wind and reap the whirlwind), or the Zulu He has
no chest (he cant keep secrets), or o f various types o f simple
rhythm ic balanced propositions (c.g. the Lam ba muyanda yacitala,
ubwaltoa wulasasa, In the house o f wrangling, beer becomes
bitter, where there is exact balance in the two parts, each with
three followed by four syllables). Double propositions in which the
second portion is explanatory are also common, as in the Lamba
*A male is a millipede, he is not driven away w ith one driving
(only) (a man does not take a single refusal from a girl). Negative
axioms also occur and are a particularly popular form in Xhosa
and Z u lu : There is no elephant burdened with its own trunk (a
comparison which occurs w idely with various connotations, among
them the idea that a mother does not feel her babys weight),
T h ere is no partridge (that) scratches for another (everyone for
himself), There is no sun (which) sets without its affairs (every
day has its own troubles). Contrast propositions are a particularly
striking and economical form and may be presented in either o f
two ways: by a direct parallel between the tw o portions o f the
proverb, as in the Lam ba T h e body went, the heart did not go
{umuwili waya, umutima tazuile), or by cross parallelism (chiasmus),
as in the Lamba proverb One morsel of food does not break a
company, what breaks a company is the m outh (akalyo kamo
takotowa citenje, icitowe'citenje kanwa). Another common form
is reduplication, with repeated words or syllables. T h is usually
comes at the beginning, as in the Swahili H urry, hurry, has no
blessing (haraka, haraka, haina baraka) or the Qanda Splutter,
splutter isnt fire (bugu-bugu simuliro).
Am ong the Bantu, as elsewhere, the use o f quoted words attri
buted to some actual or fictional person is another device for giving
1 Nyembezi 1954, pp. 13 ff.
* A. Werner, J . A/r. Soe. 16, 1917, p. 184.
3 Doke in Afr. Studies 18, 1959, p. 150.
4 Examples quoted from Doke 1947, pp. 106-10.

Proverbs

401

point and sometimes authority to a proverbial saying, the form

sometimes known as wellerism.1 T h is m ay be humorous as w ith
the Ganda I ll die for a bfg thing, says the biting ant on the big
toe,12*but is usually more serious. T h e re are also miscellaneous
patterns o f fairly frequent occurrence such as the widespread
' I f . . . th e n . . . formula, the proverbs opening with It is better,
particularly popular among the T hon ga, the frequent Lam ba form
A s for y o u . . . , the Zulu negative axioms opening Th ere is n o . . .
or 'T h ere is n o t . . . , the Nyanja use o f special diminutive prefixes
{ka- and ft-),2 and the slang form in Tum buka-Kam anga pro
verbs o f cha-, referring to the typical behaviour o f some animal
or thing.4*Another form that occurs occasionally is the rhetorical
question, as in the Karanga T h e swallower o f old cows, is he
choked w ith the bone o f a calf? (a ch ief w ho settles big cases is
not likely to be overcome by a small one).* Although not men
tioned b y D oke a further formal elem ent in the proverbs o f certain
peoples is that o f tones (e.g. in L u b a proverbs6), and rhym e, in
parts o f E ast A frica.78
*
T h e wording o f Bantu proverbs seems to be relatively fixed in
outline so that these general patterns are maintained, or recalled,
in their various citations. M inor variations, however, not in
frequently occur. A proverb may appear in the singular or plural,
with various verb tenses, or in the first, second, or third persons.
T h e form s also sometimes vary from place to place. T w o sets o f
Ndebele proverbs, for instance, collected about a hundred miles
from each other, differed slightly in form though they were clearly
the same proverbs, and over wider areas there may be similar
variations due to differences in dialect.10 A s mentioned already
1 For some non-Bantu wellerisms see A . Dundes, Some Yoruba Wellerisms,
Dialogue Proverbs and Tongue-twisters, Folklore 75, 1964.
1 Doke 1947, p. n o .
2 Gray 1944, p. 102.
* T . Cullen Young, Notes on the Customs and Folk-lore of the TumbukaKamanga Peoples, Livingstonia, 1931, p. 266.
* C. J. Bisset, 'Some Chikaranga Proverbs, Nada n , 1933, p. 98.
* Van Avermaet 1933, pp. 3 ff.
See e.g. J. Knappert, Rhyming Swahili Proverbs, Afr. u. Vbersee 49, 1966;
for some non-Bantu rhyming proverbs see H. C . Jackson, Sudan Proverbs',
Sudan Notes 2, 1919.
8 This, incidentally, makes the alphabetical classification adopted by some
collectors an unsatisfactory one.
* W. R. Benzies and H. M. G . Jackson, 'Proverbs from the Matabele, Nada
2,1924; G . Taylor and N. Jones, 'Sindebele Proverbs, Nada 3, 1925.
10 Hulstaert 1958, p. 8.

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there are sometimes tw o forms, the full and the abbreviated, the
second being the one normally cited. Sometimes the saying is cut
down even further and merely referred to in one word, a pheno
menon particularly common in one-word personal names. T h u s
among the O vim bundu a woman may be called Stikuapaiiga ( G od
willed') from the proverb G od w illed; Death unwilled (Suku
toapanga; Kulunga wapanguM a), or Mbtmdu from a proverb about
customs differing: T h e mist o f the coast (is) the rain o f the up
land* (Ombundu yohombaka ombela yokonano).1 A similar tendency
is noted among the Ganda w ho often prefer to leave a proverb
to be completed b y the hearer: names are sometimes the first
word o f a proverb, and even the title o f a book appears as ju st
AtanayiUt (from the proverb Atanayita atenda nyina okufumba
T h e untravelled man praises his mothers cooking).2 T h u s on
any particular occasion the actual form o f a proverb m ay vary
according to w hether it is abbreviated, m erely referred to, or cast
in one or other o f various grammatical forms. B u t the basic patterns
w hich mark Bantu proverbs tend to recur and be recalled in their
various citations.
Bantu proverbs, then, are noted for special patterns w hich in
many cases give a poetic flavour to the saying. T h e y use various
devices to express the thought succinctly and sometimes rhyth
mically, or even in what Chatelain calls blank versification.2 T h e
-effectiveness is heightened b y the fact that often, though not
always, there are archaic or unusual words and picturesque
phrasing.
Similar tendencies probably also occur in many non-Bantu
proverbs, although no such detailed synthesis as D oke's has been
published for any other language group. There is widespread
evidence o f balanced propositions. Yoruba proverbs, for instance,
are said often to com e in couplets with antithesis between the two
lines, noun answering to noun and verb to verb: Ordinary people
are as common as grass, / But good people are dearer than the
eye, or T o d a y is the elder brother o f tomorrow, / A nd a heavy
dew is the elder brother o f rain, while repetition also occurs
effectively in th e form Quick loving a woman means quick not
> Ennis 1945, p. 3.
R. A . Snoxal), Ganda Literature*, A ft. Studies 1, 1942, p. 59: M . B.
Nsimbi, Baganda Traditional Personal Names, Uganda J . 14, 1950, pp. 204-5.
* Chatelain 1894, p. 22.

Proverbs

403

loving a woman .1 Parallelism and chiasmus also occur as in the

Baule praise o f mutual help, G auche lave droite, droite lave
gauche,2 and rhythm may also be evident. Fulani proverbs use
assonance, special grammatical form s such as subjectless verbs or
the subjunctive without specific tim e reference, and parallel phras
ing as in A n old man does what men dont like, but he does not
do what men dont know (i.e. his actions may be unpopular, but
they cannot be unnoticed).* Related forms sometimes em ploy
elaborate and studied expression; particularly good examples o f
these are the neat Fulani epigrams cited by A m ott or the long
and com plex Akan drum proverbs.4
In proverbs the actual performance as distinct from apt citation
and picturesque form is not usually significant. Nevertheless, it is
sometimes o f interest, perhaps particularly where the words them
selves are not so elaborately stylized as in Bantu proverbs. T h u s in
Limba, w here proverbs are not h ighly developed in any fixed
form and there is little stress on rhythm or balance, I was told that
in the saying mocking unjustified self-importance ( D o not walk
like a European while wearing a loin-cloth), part o f its attractive
ness lay in the w ay it was said, w ith a pause before the last word
and the emphasizing o f the idea o f the loin-doth b y the longdrawn-out w ay in which it was pronounced. Herzog says o f the
Jabo that proverbs are uttered in a m uch more rhythmic w ay
than w ould be the case with the corresponding words in ordinary
speech.5 A lso a more studied and rhetorical utterance is likely
when, as so often in W est African societies, proverbs are used in
formal speeches before law courts. It is possible then that where
the poetic quality o f a proverb is not so evident in its verbal con
tent, this is sometimes compensated fo r b y the manner or the
context in w hich it is said.
T h e question, therefore, o f the actual style o f proverbs appears
to demand further research. W hatever the details, however, it is
clear that some sort o f heightened speech, in one form or another,
is 9ommonly used in proverbs: and that this serves to set them
apart from ordinary speech.
* EUis 1894, p. 338.
* G . Effimbra, M a m u l d e ba ou ld , Paris, [1952], p. 289.
* Am ott 1957, p. 389.
* Nketia 1958c. See also Ch. 17, pp. 488 ff.
* Herzog 1936, p. 8.

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h i

Since proverbs can refer to practically any situation, it would

be impossible to give any comprehensive account o f the content
o f African proverbs. Som ething of their variety can be gathered
from the headings under w hich they are classed in many collec
tions (in terms either o f explicit content or implied allusion), for
these headings include every aspect of hum an affairs. Categories
o f the manifest content include such headings as Animals (sub
divided into, for instance, dangerous, game, and domestic),
'Birds, Insects, M ice, rats, and others , Strangers, Europeans,
and Europe, War, fighting, guns, and weapons, and innumerable
others; while classifications in terms o f the latent reference range
from M an and woman, Efficiency and its conditions, 'Hom e
life, Life and death, and Passage of tim e to Conceit, Power,
Cunning, and, of course, Miscellaneous .
Since the actual import depends on the context o f use, it is in
fact impossible to give any definitive treatment o f the allusive
content of proverbs w ithout a study o f their situations; this material
is not usually included in the published collections. A few general
points, however, may be worth mentioning briefly and tentatively.
It could perhaps be said that though abstractions in the sense N
o f generalizations are an essential aspect o f proverbs, abstract
notions are little considered in their own right (except perhaps in
some o f the more religiously orientated sayings o f the Islamic
peoples). T h e stress is rather on comments about human affairs;
thus the Thonga T h e heart o f a man is a sea and the picturesque
Yoruba saying about the mind confronted with a difficult problem
(A s the lepers hand struggles to grip the needle) exemplify the
exception rather than the rule.1 It is noteworthy also that in most
Bantu proverbs there are few references to religion; this contrasts
with West Africa where this topic is fairly frequent, particularly
among M uslim peoples such as the Hausa and Fulani. T h is may
perhaps be connected w ith the significance o f the ancestor cult
in many Bantu societies, so that the equivalent o f this sort o f allu
sion is made in terms o f human experience and activity without
reference to a transcendent god or specialist religious activity.
There are very m any proverbs about authority, government
oppression, or the burden o f power. Som e examples are the Alcan
1 Junod and Jaquea 1936, no. 803; Gbadamosi and Beier 1959, p. 60.

Proverbs

405

suggestion that a kings sons do not need to be taught violence

(N o one teaches a leopards cub how to spring), or the frequent
reminders that even power must bow sometimes, which the Hausa
express b y Even the Niger has an island and the Yoruba b y T h e
river carries away an elderly person who does not know his
w eight'.1 T h e Thonga saying T h e centipedes legs are strengthened
b y a hundred rings alludes to the chiefs dependence on the num
ber o f his subjects, while through A uthority is the tail o f a waterrat they bring out the way power can slip away from its possessor;1
many other comments on the nature and consequences o f power
could be cited. Death is another favourite topic, for D eath has
m any petticoats and There is no hillside without a grave.3 T h e
inexorability o f death is often stressed Th ere is no ragwort that
blooms and does not wither and D eath has the key to open the
misers chest and resignation and the fact that no one after all
is indispensable are also brought out: Even there where no cock
is crowing, it becomes light.4 T h e conflicts inherent in marriage
are very frequently satirized (T w o w ives are tw o pots full o f
poison , according to the K ikuyu), and self-importance is often
picked on as in the K ikuyu K now ing too much is like being
ignorant, the Southern Bantu N o cleverest fellow ever licked his
own back, or the Nyanja W atch m e was carried off b y a croco
dile (the man plunged in vaingloriously instead o f patiently w ait
ing for the boat).3 But a list o f popular topics could be prolonged
almost indefinitely.
Som ething has already been said about the sorts o f comparisons
which appear explicitly in the proverbs. V ery often these are to
animals or birds, not because Africans have some m ystical close
ness to nature but because m any live in relatively rural and sparsely
populated areas where the animal world impinges closely on their
lives. B ut in fact almost anything o f w hich people have experience
not excluding problems o f modern government can appear
directly in their proverbs. It is often impossible to grasp the point
or attraction o f a given proverb w ithout some knowledge o f the
cultural background and of what the thing mentioned means to
those w ho utter it. Thus the effectiveness o f the Zulu saying that
> Rattray 1916, p. 63; Whitting 1940, p. 5; Gbadamosi and Beier 1959, p. 61.
* Junod and Jaques, no. 107.
3 McLaren 1917, p. 344.
* Ibid., p. 343! Rattray 1916, p. 5 1; Ripp, op. a t.
3 G . Barra, 1000 Kikuyu Proverbs, London, 2nd ed., i960, pp. 2,40; McLaren
1917, P-

. .

34 i ;

Gray 1944, P- n 2.

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'N o proud girl ever had the better o f the skin-skirt is lost to us
unless w e know that it is customary for only married women to
wear skin-skirts and that the proverb therefore refers to the tonic
effect o f marriage on 'proud cheeky girls.1 Sim ilarly the image
in the Xhosa likening o f a woman to a mimosa tree that yields
gum all day long arises from the Xhosa fondness for chewing gum,
and the picture in the M ongo proverb L a.m arche pendant les
eaux hautes, cest celui qui marche devant qui est intelligent fits
their swam py surroundings where the one in front warns those
behind o f holes and obstacles underwater.2 Am ong pastoral people
as preoccupied with cattle as are many o f the Southern and
Eastern Bantu it is not surprising to find very m any proverbs
referring to cattle. T h ere is, for example, the warning D ont throw
away the milk-pails (your last hope), the common description
o f a liar (H e milks even cows which are in calf), and the comment
on peoples sensitivity and interdependence in terms o f cattle,
I t licks the one w hich licks it, it kicks the one w hich kicks it.3
T h e interests o f each society tend to be reflected in the sort of
images through w hich their proverbs are expressed like the
Ashanti experience o f gold (W isdom is not gold-dust that it should
be tied up and put away), or the Fulani interest in rank in Les
vfetements cachent le corps mais ne cachent pas la gen6alogie
even a rich and well-dressed man o f servile origin w ill still only
be a slave: appearances are not everything.4
Sim ilar comparisons sometimes occur over a w ide area, often
in nearly the same words. T h is m ay be partly due to cultural con
tact between peoples in the present or past. M any Hausa and Fulani
proverbs, for instance, are near identical in overt meaning and
translation, and the same applies to the K ru and Jabo o f Southern
L iberia and many others. T h e Bantu languages provide many
examples o f this, the m ore striking owing to their similarity In
language as well as sentiment. T h u s very similar proverbs are
mentioned in many collections from different Bantu societies
T h e eye crosses a full river (usually referring to mans ambition),
T h e buttocks rubbipg together do not lack sweat (friction be
tween those who live together), and T h e sweat o f a dog ends
1
*
1
*

Nyembezi 1954. p. 11.

McLaren 19 *7 . P- 333 ! Hulstaert 1958, p. 41a.

Ripp, op. cit.; Nyembezi 1954, p. 6.
Rattray 1916, p. 154: Gadea 1931, p. 103.

Proverbs

407

in its hair* (a poor man must swallow his wrath or, alternatively,
hard work and effort are not always appreciated). D oke gives
a detailed example o f the way a proverb can take slightly different
forms in the many languages in w hich it occurs (this one is the
equivalent o f our pot calling the kettle black): the Ila have T h e
baboons laughed about one another's overhanging brows, Tsw ana
A monkey doesnt see its own hollow eyes, Kim bundu T h e
monkey does not notice his tail, N yanja Baboons laugh at one
anothers buttocks, Swahili T h e ape sees not his own hinder
parts, he sees his neighbours.1 T h e comparisons, then, are close.
But the actual application and interpretation may vary from society
to society, whatever the wording.
T h e range o f comparisons and applications, then, is enormous.
References to the animal world seem particularly frequent every
where, but they are by no means the only analogies. These include
everything with w hich a given people is preoccupied, and the
extent to which any single sphere is stressed depends, as one
would expect, on the culture and experience o f a particular society.

IV
-So far w e have been considering the content and formal charac
teristics o f proverbs in Africa. However, it is particularly true o f
proverbs whose use and application depends so crucially on their
context that no full understanding can be reached without some
knowledge o f the occasions and purposes o f their actual use, T o
consider the myriad different occasions (and hence meanings)
would m anifestly be impossible as a Fante elder put it, T h ere is
no proverb without the situation2 but some comments should be
made about the main contexts of proverbs and the functions they
fulfil.
Th ere are two themes that one encounters particularly in any
discussion o f the uses and contexts o f proverbs. First, there is
the sense o f detachment and generalization inherent in proverbs.
T h e speaker stands back, as it were, from the heat o f the actual
situation and draws attention, for him self or others, to its wider
implications. A n d secondly, there is the oblique and allusive
1 Doke >934, p. 36* Christensen 1958, p. 232; and cf. the story about the Akan attitude to
proverbs cited in Evans-Pritchard 1963, p. 7.

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nature o f expression through proverbs w hich makes it possible to

use them in a variety o f effective w a p .
Perhaps most often mentioned is their use in oratory, particu
larly in law cases or disputes. In this situation proverbs are often
used by one or other o f the parties to get at his opponent or try
to make out a good case for himself b y drawing some analogy
through the image in a proverb. Am ong the Anang Ibibio, for
instance, proverbs are often skilfully introduced into speeches at
the crucial moment and are influential in the actual decisions
reached.1 In one A nang law case, the plaintiff managed to stir
up antagonism towards the accused (a chronic thief) b y alluding
to his past record and untrustworthy reputation. He did this by
quoting the proverb I f a dog plucks palm fruits from a cluster,
he does not fear a porcupine : if a dog can deal with the sharp
needles o f the palm fruit, he is likely to be able to face even the
porcupines prickles; similarly a thief w ill not be afraid to steal
again. In this case, however, the thiefs guilt was not in fact clear.
A s part of his defence he on his side used a proverb which was
influential in winning over the judge to acquit him, hinting at the
w ay in which he alone had no sympathizers and supporters
A single partridge flying through the bush leaves no path.2
Counsellors and judges also use proverbs to comment obliquely
on the conduct o f those involved, often w ith implied advice or
rebuke. A number o f these have been recorded among the Nyanja,
for whom the court is the place for the use o f proverbial wit and
wisdom and who often refer to such cases in metaphors drawn
from hunting. A s they put it, Quietly quietly doesnt kill game
(that which) kills game is there it is! there it is unless, that is,
those who bring the case explain what it is all about, they cannot
expect to win any more than a hunt can be successful without
noisy beaters driving the game into the net; what is more, the
judge should be quiet and listen like the guard at the net. People
are rebuked for their wrong behaviour in court and reminded
allusively that what they are doing falls into some general category
they too disapprove of. T elling lies, fo r instance, only makes
matters worse: an animal caught in a net only entangles itself
further with wild struggles, and so a man is told in court that It is
patience which gets you out o f the net. A gain, those who try to
excuse themselves before the court b y saying that what they did
1 See the article by Messenger 1959.

2 Ibid., pp. 68-9.

Proverbs

409

was only a small thing may be reminded that T h e thing which

upsets the porridge-pot is a'sm all piece o f tsekera grass.1
In court and elsewhere there are also frequent occasions for
using a proverb to smooth over a disagreement or bring a dispute
to a dose. According to the Y o ru b a proverb, A counsellor who
understands proverbs soon sets matters right,2 and a difficult law
case is often ended by the public dtation o f an apt proverb which
performs m uch the same generalizing function as citing legal
precedents in other societies. Som e o f these might be classed as
juridical axioms and maxims, but m any in fact succeed ju st because
the attempt at reconciliation is oblique and through an analogy
rather than a straightforward injunction. T h e contenders are not
only brought to view the dispute in a wider perspective (and thus
be more ready to come to terms), but this is conveyed in a tactful
and allusive way. Am ong the L im ba, for instance, an elder in court
tries to persuade one party to a dispute not to be angry w ith some
one younger b y reminding them that one does not shoot the
chimpanzee for its ugliness ; i.e. one should not go to extremes in
punishing a child, however bad, any more than one actually kills
a chimpanzee because it is ugly. In pronouncing his decision the
president o f an Anang court frequently uses the proverb I f you
visit the home of the toads, stoop to remind those involved that
one should conform to the divine moral law, and the Y orub a make
the similar point that once a dispute has been brought to an end
it should then be regarded as finally settled W hen the face is
washed you finish at the ch in .2 In a less formal context, the
K iku yu bring an interminable and profitless discussion to an end
b y asking the question, agreed to be unanswerable, W hen new
clothes are sewn, where do the old ones go?4
M ore or less formalized law cases, then, provide m any oppor
tunities for proverbs. However, they also occur in less formal
situations for giving ordinary advice. Here too their oblique and
tactful nature makes them particularly effective. M any examples o f
this could be given. In Lam b a culture, for instance, the young are
1 Gray 1944, pp. 107, 108.
1 EUis 1894, P> 218.
* Messenger 1959, p. 70; Ellis 1894, p. 231.
* M . S. Stevenson, Specimens of Kikuyu Proverbs, Festschrift Meinhof,
GlUckstadt, 1927, p. 246. On judicial proverbs, see also A . E. Meeussen,
Aktiespreuken bij de Lega, Kongo-Oversee25,1959; E. Van Goethem, Proverbes judi -iaires des Mongo, Aequatoria to, 1947; I. Schopera, Tswana Legal
Maxims, Africa 36, 1966.

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warned in such terms as Y o u r mouth will turn into a knife and cut
o ff your lips or Y o u w ill let the mouse rot in the trap* (i.e. let
th e opportunity pass),1 and among the T etela the proverb T h e
palm-tree grows in the tall grass may be used as a gentle hint to
parents that it is best to leave a child alone and to let him play and
get dirty he w ill grow up.12 T h e Oron miser who, with some
polite excuse, refuses a request, particularly for money, is told
obliquely that the asker knows quite well that he does not really
w ant to do it: T h e child w ho re u se s to go an errand says he does
not know the way.3
T h is function o f proverbs to advise, rebuke, or shame another
into complaisance has been particularly w ell described for the
Ila o f Zambia.4 A man m ay be reminded that, as w e would put it,
Rom e was not built, in a day One day is not sufficient to rot an
elephant or that pride and contempt o f authority are not admired
since 'W e do not like the pride o f a hens egg : eggs in a nest are
all equal, so one o f them should not be proud. Practical as well
as ethical advice is given: I f you eat w ith one ch ief only, it is
because you have no feet, fo r you should get w hat you can out o f
all o f them. Ridicule and m ockery in proverbs are also effective.
A s Sm ith writes o f Ila proverbs, w it has a utilitarian aim ; laughter
is never far away, and because o f their susceptibility to ridicule the
Ila, like many others, can sometimes be laughed ou t o f a thing more
effectively than deterred b y argument or force. T h u s Pharisees are
m ocked as those w ho spurn the frog but drink the water1: they
are the kind o f people w ho object to finding a frog in their drinking
w ater but are perfectly happy to drink once th e frog has been re
moved. Another pressure is through irony, assuming that what
ought to be done is always do n e; the quickest w ay to gain hospitality
among the Ila is to quote 'T h e rump o f a visitor is made to sit
upon.2 Indeed, any kind o f satirical or penetrating comment on
behaviour m ay be made in the form o f a proverb and used to warn
or advise or bring someone to his senses. H e is reminded of the
general implications o f his action and the fact that the reminder
1 Dolce 1934, p. 361.
* E. B. Stfiz, Otetela proverbs, Wombo Nyama, 1939 (manuscripts in Doke
Collection, University College Library, Salisbury, S. Rhodesia).
s Simmons 19606, p. 135 (slightly expanded to make the literal English transla
tion intelligible).
4 Smith and Dale ii, 1920, pp. 311 ff.
* Ibid., p. 31a.

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411

is cast in apparently innocent and irrelevant terms may make it

all the more effective.
There is another aspect o f proverbs which is connected with
their use for comment or persuasion and which sometimes appears
in a specialized and extreme form. T h is is their oblique and sugges
tive character. T h e speaker wishes to convey something, but in
such a w ay that later on he can deny that he actually stated what was
implied, or so that only some among his listeners may understand
the point. T h is type o f suggestivencss is developed to a particu
larly high degree in the Zande sanza in which a kind of malicious
double-talk is used to convey a meaning other than the obvious
sense. Again, the Nyanja have a special term which can be trans
lated as speaking by opposites by which they make deliberate
mis-statements with an esoteric intention the older people and
cognoscenti can understand, but not other listeners.1 Similarly
among the T h on ga a proverb may be used with an apparently
clear meaning but in practice a completely different intention,2
while the K am ba ndimo, dark saying, is a kind o f secret
language.3
Irony or sarcasm as a way o f getting at someone is, o f course,
widespread in many forms, but the proverb is a particularly good
way o f conveying this. T h is kind o f implicit attack on another,
already mentioned in the context o f a formal law case, sometimes
takes more unusual forms. An example is the elliptical language o f
names. T h rough this people can refer to anothers fault while
at the same tim e avoiding any direct commitment. Thus, among
the Karanga, a dog m ay be called b y the proverbial name T h in gs
which change from day to day1 in allusion to a capricious w ife, or
a flirtatious woman may be called 'A ll eyes as a reproof since she
has eyes for all personable males; similarly a dogs name m ay be
Home-wrecker, given him b y a suspicious husband to warn off
his wifes lover.4
Certain themes seem to be present in the various contexts o f
proverbs w e have discussed so far. Though proverbs can occur in
very many different kinds o f contexts, they seem to be particularly
important in situations where there is both conflict and, at the
1
*
3
4

Gray 1944, p. 102.

Junod and Jaqucs 1936 (foreword).
Lindblom iii, 1934, P- *8.
N. A. Hunt, Some Notes on the Naming o f Dogs in C hikaranga*, Nada 29 ,
195*-

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same time, some obligation that this conflict should not take on too
open and personal a form. Such conflict can occur in many dif
ferent ways there m ay be competition for scarce resources, there
may be a stress, as among the Zulu or Ibo, on the idea o f personal
achievement or, as am ong the Azande, on the significance o f
hierarchy, with the competitiveness for advancement and notice
so closely connected w ith these; in all these situations there may
also be an idea that the conflict involved should not be allowed to
become extreme and explicit. It can be seen how the veiled and
metaphorical language o f proverbs is particularly relevant in such
contexts.1 Indeed, proverbs may also be specially suitable even
in everyday situations o f advice or instruction where the hidden
tensions that are sometimes inherent in such relationships arc
controlled through the use of elliptical, proverbial speech. Even
in cases of overt and institutionalized conflict for example, the
law cases in the more highly organized African states proverbs
play a part in formalizing and controlling the conflicts involved.
In some Western societies, there are provisions in the legal system
for minimizing personal clashes involved in lawsuits while at the
same time making it possible for each side to present their case
effectively by the relative impersonality o f the written word, and
by the institution o f counsels for each o f the two parties who,
as well as forwarding their clients interests, impose a kind o f
veil which prevents direct confrontation. It seems that in certain
non-literate African societies the use o f proverbs may fulfil some
thing o f the same function.
Proverbs, then, m ay be a particularly suitable form of communi
cation in situations and relationships o f potential or latent conflict.
T h is aspect may perhaps serve to throw some light on the fact that
whereas some peoples make great use o f proverbs, among others,
for instance the N uer, they seem to be o f little or no importance.*
F or it m ay be that it is precisely those societies in which there is
marked latent conflict, or in which there is particular need to
1 Proverbs are not, of course, the only way of dealing with such situations and
relationships in non-literate societies. There are also, for instance, witchcraft
beliefs and accusations; the use of veiled political and satirical songs; or joking
relationships. In this last form, the opposite means is, in a sense, being chosen:
proverbs may deal with conflict by smoothing it over; joking resolves it by
exaggerating the hostility involved and thus, in its way, resolving it.
* A point raised by Evans-Pritchard in 19636, p. 109 and, so far as I know,
nowhere satisfactorily discussed.

Proverbs

413

regulate formalized conflicts, that proverbs play an especially large

part.
Collectors and commentators frequently mention the use o f
proverbs in education. Although the details are often not m ade very
clear, it seems that there are several different senses in which
proverbs can fulfil educational functions. Sometimes proverbs (and
other verbal forms like riddles) are used in a quite specific way
in societies which lay great stress on initiation ceremonies. T h e
initiates m ay be instructed in the proverbs and aphorisms current
in the society, just as they are also often taught dances, songs, and
other skills. Am ong the Chaga, for instance, proverbs play an
important part in formal instruction during initiation ceremonies
and are highly valued;1 the C haga, it is said, have four big
possessions: land, cattle, water and proverbs.2 T h is sort o f formal
instruction may have a certain esoteric intention; the members of
the group versed in these proverbs are now, by their very know
ledge, marked off from those w ho have not yet reached this stage.
In addition, in a non-literate society instruction through proverbs
provides a means for relatively form al education and transmission
o f cultural traditions. Proverbs w ith their implicit generalized im
port are clearly a suitable and succinct form in w hich to verbalize
socially prescribed actions and attitudes.
Proverbs, then, are sometimes used quite form ally and con
sciously as a vehicle to achieve the ends, and in the same sort of
contexts, that we associate w ith form al education. However, when
collectors comment on the educational function o f proverbs they
do not necessarily intend to convey such a specific role as that de
scribed above, one which certainly does not occur in every African
society. W hat they often seem to be describing is the general
educative role o f proverbs. N ow proverbs often im ply some general
comm ent on the w ay people do, or should, or should not behave.
It is clear that the conveying o f a peoples experience and expecta
tions can be performed in a particularly effective w ay through the
use o f proverbs. But proverbs are in practice cited in a whole
variety o f situations, and only in some o f them does there seem to
be any intentionally educational purpose. T h e manifest aim may
in fact be to get at an opponent, to defy a superior in a polite and
* O. F. Raum, Chaga Childhood, London, 1940, pp. 217, 333-4.
1 Ibid., p. 217.

8161S14

E e

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Prose

oblique way, to make an effective and unanswerable point in

a speech, etc. yet at the same tim e the latent function is per
form ed o f transmitting a certain view o f the world, a w ay o f inter
preting and analysing people and experience, and recognition o f
certain situations. Am ong the Ibo, for instance, proverbs fulfil this
aim incidentally even though the explicit occasion is that o f a dance.
A s the masked dancer progresses, he has proverbs and aphorisms
called out before him, and, as G reen writes, the chanting in front
o f the masked figure o f these utterances is a w ay o f steeping the
members o f the society in the traditional values o f their culture.1
O ther quasi-educational results w hich may com e from the fre
quent use o f proverbs seem only incidental, not really dis
tinguishable in kind from the general socialization and education
undergone by people ju st because and in that they are members
o f a particular society.
In between these two extremes there is the kind o f situation in
w hich, without any specific formal occasion for their use, proverbs
are yet consciously used from tim e to time with the intention o f
instructing or o f giving advice. T h u s w e are told o f proverbs in
m any societies2 that they are used for instruction or child-rear
ing. M ost authors, however, do not give details o f the actual
situations o f such usage. It is true that the generalizations implicit
in m any proverbs make them suitable vehicles for this sort o f
instruction; but the occasions w e are told about suggest that what
in fact is often being done is to convey the applicability o f a proverb
to a particular situation rather than to teach any actual general
ization implied or stated in the proverb. T h is too is o f course
a type o f education. B ut it is perhaps not quite that implied b y
the frequent references to the educational purpose o f these
proverbs.2
Besides these relatively utilitarian aspects o f proverbs it is clear
that there is also w hat m ight be called a purely literary aspect.
T h a t this view is not ju st that o f the outside observer is clear from
1 Green 1948, p. 840.
* e.g. Zulu, Lamba, Ila, Nyarya, Kuanyama Ambo, Fame, Anang Ibibio.
a Straight generalizations and aphorisms are sometimes included in collec
tions o f proverbs and these may be used to instruct in some general sense; but
further study may show that several o f these satisfy neither the criterion of
being a generally accepted truth, nor that o f involving allusive, figurative, or
otherwise picturesque expression; they are thus strictly only marginal to the
analysis of proverbs and of oral literature in general.

Proverbs

4*5

the overlap in terminology already mentioned between proverbs

and such unquestionably literary genres as stories, parables, or
riddles. In the case o f certain peoples, indeed, their proverbs
(sometimes together w ith their riddles) appear to be the richest
or most interesting part o f their oral literature.1 O f the proverbs
in many African societies we arc told that they are consciously
used not only to make effective points but also to embellish their
speeches in a way admired and appreciated by their audiences.
It is part o f the art o f an accomplished orator to adorn his rhetoric
with apt and appealing proverbs. T h e Anang Ibibio reputation
for eloquence largely arises from their skilful use of proverbs, and
a Zulu orator who can quote aptly, readily, and profusely is
particularly admired.2 Proverbs arc also used to add colour to
everyday conversation. T h is aspect seems to be very widespread
indeed and in some cases at least to be an art cultivated to a very
high degree. T h u s among the M ongo, proverbs are said to be
continually cited; among the Zulu, someone who did not know
their proverbs would be lost in the allusiveness o f their conversa
tion; while among the Bambara, proverbs are honoured to such an
extent that they tend to use a proverb every two or three phrases
even in everyday conversation.3 T h e A kan allude to the subtlety
in proverbs b y their saying W hen a fool is told a proverb, the
meaning o f it has to be explained to him*, and as Nyembezi
writes of the Zulu, in words also applicable to many other African
cultures, proverbs are essential to life and language: W ithout
them, the language would be but a skeleton without flesh, a body
without soul.*
T h is literary use o f proverbs in ordinary speech is sometimes
taken further and shades into more elaborate forms like the Akan
drum proverbs, Fulani epigrams, or Z u lu bird songs. Unlike
many other prose forms, proverbs are not normally used specifically
for entertainment but are more involved in everyday situations.
However, w e do hear occasionally o f contests in proverb telling.
Am ong the Fante proverbs are recited as entertainment both at
casual gatherings in the evening and at ceremonies and celebrations
1 For example the Fang (Tardy 1933, p. 282) and the Anang Ibibio (Messenger

1959. P- 64)-

1 Messenger 1959, p. 64; Vilakazi 1945, ch. 10.

J Hulstaert 1958, p. 5; J. Stuart and D. Malcolm, Zulu Proverbs and Popular
Sayings, Durban, [1949] (introd.); Travtfe 1923, p. 35.
* Rattray 1916, p. 152; Nyembe2i 1954, p. 44.

416

LrMX&XiMMj

i'jjLiaumJ

kiiiatHiUtit

Prose

with a panel o f judges to decide between the contestants, while

Lestrade writes of the South African Bantu that proverbs are
sometimes used in a regular game similar to that o f riddle asking
interpretations o f proverbs are exchanged and the players buy a
new proverb and its interpretation in exchange for one they know.1
In all these contexts the proverb is a vehicle particularly suited to
give depth and elegance through its allusive, figurative, and poetic
mode o f expression.
Proverbs, finally, are often said to represent a peoples philo
sophy. In proverbs the whole range o f human experience can be
commented on and analysed, generalizations and principles ex
pressed in a graphic and concise form, and the wider implications
o f specific situations brought to mind. T h is aspect has always
appealed particularly to collectors. Some editors have taken it
rather far and suggested that proverbs make up tribal lawvor illustrate every belief and prescribed piece of behaviour
in a direct and literal way. T h is is to miss the flexibility and
situational aspect that is so striking a characteristic o f African
proverbs. A s has been pointed out b y several authorities, the same
proverb may be used in a whole range o f situations with different
applications and meanings. Furthermore, as has frequently been
noticed, the occurrence o f contradictory proverbs is widespread;
thus the Southern Bantu stress both the unruliness and indis
pensability o f a mans tongue: T h e mouth has no lid to cover it,
yet T h e tongue is a mans tail-switch to drive away the flies ;i
and many other such examples could be cited. If interpreted as
literal injunctions or evaluations, clearly there is contradiction.
Instead they might be regarded as a w ay o f summing up what is
recognized as only one facet of the truth, to be used as and when it
applies or appeals; then it is possible to appreciate more fully the
flexible and subtle w ay in which, through a whole series o f over
tones and depths o f meaning, proverbs represent the soul o f
a people.

tii'WXkfJ

In relation to the question o f the occasions and functions o f

proverbs something should be said about the people who cite or
listen to proverbs. T h ere is not much evidence on this, but clearly
1 Christensen 1958, p. 239; Lestrade 1937, pp. 293-4.
* e.g. G. Barra, 1000 Kikuyu Proverbs, London, 2nd ed., i960 (foreword).
* McLaren 1917, p. 341.

Proverbs

4 *7

the details vary from society to society. Sometimes the proverbs

are potentially known to everyone and free for all to use on suitable
occasions. T h e actual use, o f course, depends on the occasion:
thus where proverbs are most common in law cases and men are
the ch ief litigants, proverbs are seldom used b y wom en; and pro
verbs giving advice are m ost naturally used b y elder people. In
' other societies there seem to be certain proverbs w hich are reserved
for use only by older people and would not be cited in the presence
o f youths or uncircumcised adults. Sometimes proverbs as tools
in argument are reserved for the elderly alone; thus o f the Fon
Herskovits tells us that one lim iting principle governs their use.
T h e young may not presume to press a point with their seniors
b y using proverbs.1 Am ong the Nyanja proverbs are sometimes
used w ith a definitely esoteric intention,2 and w e m ay guess that
in societies with a fairly high degree o f specialization, particularly
with regard to religious and artistic affairs, there is likely to be a
group w ho are particularly conversant with the allusions and possi
bilities inherent in proverbs. T h e situation described o f the M ongo
is very likely typical o f many societies: that whereas some proverbs
are used by the whole population and known very widely, others
are rare or reserved for certain specialists.2 But this w hole subject
is obscure and the evidence scanty.
T h ere is also the question o f individual authorship and origin
ality. Since one of the characteristics o f a proverb is that it should
be accepted by the community as a whole, the scope for individual
initiative is clearly limited. H owever, the fact that there is a certain
amount o f variation in form and the great range o f varied situations
to which proverbs can be applied with greater or lesser aptness and
insight give some opening for individual contributions. There is
a certain amount of evidence about the way new proverbs are
coined by individuals and later taken up by the community. A s
N yem bezi points out about the Zulu, there are no special people
with the job of evolving proverbs, but new ones nevertheless arise
through individuals; and we are told elsewhere that many Zulu
proverbs were first uttered by famous men or by bards or jesters
before the king or at a beer-drink and were then taken up and
popularized by others.4 It is common for proverbs to be attributed
to well-known historical personages; this is often conventional but
* Herskovits 1958, p. 57.

1 Hulstaert 1958, p. 5.

2 Gray 1944, p. 102.

4 Nyembezi 1954, p. xi; Ripp, op. cit.

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Prose

in som e cases may be justified. Similarly new proverbs are men

tioned as being taken b y individuals from various outside sources,
or arising from individual inventiveness and poetic imagination
w ithin the framework o f the conventional forms and functions in
any given society.1
W e can, then, sum u p the various ways in w hich proverbs are
used in African societies b y saying that they really occur on a ll
occasions when language is used for communication either as art
or as a tool i.e. on every sort o f occasion imaginable. In particular
societies there may be certain rules or tendencies about the sorts
o f occasions on which they are m ost frequent or suitable, or the
classes o f people who should use them. Some peoples m ay use
proverbs in a particularly sophisticated w ay as the basis for more
elaborate forms o f literature, w hile others stress the useful aspect
o f proverb-citing or their more literary and artistic purpose. B ut
they are above all used as a form o f formalized conflict and its
resolution, as an oblique and allusive w ay of communication, as
a form o f expression w ith a certain educational relevance, as an
artistic activity in its own right, or as all these at once.

S o far the discussion has been rather general and comparative.

However, some o f the points made m ay emerge m ore clearly with
a discussion o f the nature and use o f proverbs in three specific
societies, ones which differ in language, social organization, and
geographical location.
^
First, the Jabo. T h ese are a Kru-speaking people livin g in small
independent settlements in south-eastern Liberia. T h e ir proverbs
were collected and studied in the 1930s b y H erzog and his native
assistant. T h e y were published in the original and in translation
w ith a full commentary on their various meanings and situations
and an illum inating introduction.2
T h o u gh it is difficult to estimate the number o f Jabo proverbs
it seems to be considerable; H erzog gives 416 (in addition to re
lated sayings) and considers that more could have been collected
and that new proverbs were constantly being made. Jabo proverbs
shade into other forms: the <sayings*'(which are sometimes merely
idiomatic expressions); the singers words' (or lying words)
1 C f. Herzog 1436, p. 7; Hulstaert X958, pp. 5-6.
* Herzog 1936.

Proverbs

419

which are formalized statements, easily transformed into proverbs,

which singers introduce into their songs o f praise; and the titles
or honorary addresses for characterization and praise. Proverbs
are more or less distinct from these form s in their style, being more
poetic and sym bolic than the sayings but considerably less poetic
than the other two forms.
T h e proverb proper is termed dale'kpa, a word also used for
a parable or short animal tale rounded out with a proverb which
serves as the moral. T h e term is also said to be connected with an
archaic form meaning old matters, and this implies the idea o f
taking an old situation and applying it to the present, coping w ith
it b y regarding it in the light o f something that has occurred before.
It is also connected with the idea o f generalization in idioms like
'H e quotes stingy proverbs (i.e. H e supports his stinginess with
generalities), used o f someone who b y way o f excuse evades a re
quest with stock phrases.
Although the citing of proverbs is not a specialized activity
like riddling or story-telling, and occurs freely and informally in
every sort o f context, there are nevertheless certain stock situations
where proverbs are especially frequent. T h ey play an important
part in Jabo legal proceedings; indeed at a certain stage the dis
cussion mainly takes place through the quoting o f proverbs. In
this way the case can be raised from the particular to the general
and can be classified according to the generalizations inherent
in proverbs. T h e m ore proverbs a man can use, the more effective
he is considered to be, and since almost any act has legalistic
aspects, there is hardly a discussion o f any consequence (whether
or not actually in court) in which proverbs are not employed.1
Proverbs are also very commonly used to smooth social friction
and help individuals to adjust themselves to their positions; there
are a very great number o f proverbs implying under the circum
stances what did you expect ? w hich are used in these contexts
(c.g. T h e butterfly that flics among the thorns will tear its wings
or 'I f you marry a beautiful woman, you marry trouble, a com
ment, among other things, on the dangers attending prosperity).
These are often particularly effective in smoothing dissatisfaction
because uttered b y an older person in a society where seniority is
taken seriously. Besides their general use in legal and social life,
both formally and informally, proverbs also provide the means
1 Ibid., p. 2.

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Prose

by which generalizations can be made explicit, and at times

provide an intricate and artistic intellectual exercise for the
adept.
T h e characteristic o f proverbs which H erzog brings out most
forcefully is their flexibility. T h e same proverb may be used as
advice, instruction, or warning, and m ay be cited in situations
which may seem far removed from the original application, or
even in contradictory senses. T h u s the saying W e watch the
birds neck while he is talking can be used in at least three situa
tions with different meanings: as a retort when someone weak
makes a threat, meaning that before taking a threat seriously w e
should look to see w ho makes it; as an expression o f doubt about
the truth o f what another is saying; and, finally, as an indication
that everyone agrees with a speaker.1 Jabo proverbs thus have
a wide range of applicability, and the ostensible meaning can in
certain situations even shade into its opposite.
T h e form o f Jabo proverbs is somewhat removed from that o f
everyday prose utterance. M any proverbs begin with * ... says: . . . ,
as in North wind says: if you rise, they will know you are there
(used either to point out something self-evident or to remind that
a man must demand in order to get his due). T h e supposed speaker
is often either some natural object, (sea, plant, etc.), people (c.g.
the K ru, white people), or, very often, specific animals or birds.
Such proverbs can be quoted either with or without this attribu
tion. There are also other introductory formulas used for emphasis
which may or may not appear on a given occasion, such as I say
or It is the truth what they say. V ery m any proverbs have the
patterns I f . . . , then . . . , Where . . . , there . . . , or give rule
o f conduct with the impersonal pronoun one. T h e ideas o f con
trast and o f limitation are also frequently brought out b y the
form. Contrast is emphasized in, for instance, W hen the spirits
are gone, dogs will serve the wine, a complex proverb which
implies among other things the contrast between mature age
(spirits) and careless impetuous youth (dogs); and limitation
is conveyed by alluding to the im m utability o f certain laws in
'W hen it runs, th e roof always drips the same way'. Poetic and
archaic expressions occur, and the poetic tone is intensified by
the symmetrically balanced structure and occasional rhythmic
swing which is accentuated in actual utterance. In this way,
* Herzog 1936, p. 70.

Proverbs

421

proverbs are a kind of technical language, with specialized vocabu

lary, style, and linguistic-and logical constructions.
T h ese proverbs and related sayings, then, are described as
playing a central role in Jabo society. T h e y characterize and
evaluate persons, events, and situations, interpret the particular
into general and recognizable experience, and are the most im
portant verbal instrument for minimizing friction and effecting
adjustment, legal, social, or intellectual. . . they form a vital and
potent element of the culture they interpret.'
T h e Zulu o f South A frica are exceedingly rich in proverbs.
T h ese have been extensively collected and commented on for many
years. T h e best account is that by Nyem bezi who has published
over 700 proverbs, gleaned both from earlier collections and from
his own field-work.2
In Zulu, as in many languages, it is not easy to draw a sharp
line between idioms and proverbs proper, but there seems to be
a general distinction in form and terminology between sayings
or plain prose usages (izisho), and izaga, proverbs. Consonant with
the general Zulu interest in rhythm, tnusic, dance, and poetry,
their proverbs are often marked by a certain metrical form which
makes a contrast with plain prose. T h is is often brought out by
balanced structure such that contrasted subjects are governed by
one predicate (thus presenting two opposed ideas), b y contrasted
predicates governed by one subject, or by contrast in both subjects
and predicates.1 W ord-order is important so that verb contrasts
w ith verb, adverb with adverb, and so on, and cross-parallelism
also occurs. In some proverbs the contrast lies in the ideas rather
than the words themselves. Econom y o f expression is particularly
marked in Zulu proverbs, often with elision o f vow els or whole
w ords and the subject suggested only by the concord. Certain
patterns occur frequently and give the proverbs a distinct form
even when, as in some cases, they lack rhythm. T h ere are frequent
expressions in terms o f two, three, or four word-groups, and a
specially popular form is that beginning with aktikho (or its ab
breviation aku), 'there is n o . . . , as in N o polecat ever smelt
its own stink : people fail to recognize their ow n faults. T h e
1 Ibid., p. 15.
* Nyembezi 1954. Unattributed references are to this work throughout this
section.
* Vilakazi 1945, ch. 10.

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Prose

vocabulary used seems to be the everyday one, but the proverbs

cease to be ordinary not just because o f their special forms but
because they are generally accepted as clever and attractive ex
pressions o f some truth.
T h e proverbs gain their significance from the situations in which
they are used. I f some o f the proverbs appear to have contradictory
senses, this is merely because there are many possible situations
and different angles from which one can look at a problem. Besides
their importance in teaching, proverbs arc also commonly used in
lawsuits and arguments to minimize friction. T h ey are used too in
general comment on people and the world, often humorously.
Proverbs can be used to enrich and enliven speech at every level,
whether o f formal oratory or o f everyday conversation, and are
regarded as essential to the life and language o f the Zulu.
T h e images in terms o f w hich many o f the Zulu proverbs are
phrased are primarily drawn from observation o f human behaviour,
o f the ways o f animals, and o f other things in the natural environ
ment. A s we would expect o f a pastoral people devoted to their
livestock, there are very m any proverbs connected w ith cattle and
cattle husbandry. H unting is another popular subject; birds arc
often referred to, and the proverbs in fact often merge into, or ap
pear in, the songs attributed to many well-known birds.1 Proverbs
m ay also contain references to historical events, such as those
w hich speak of the famous Sh'aka, or they may be connected with
w ell-known tales, sometimes gaining their effectiveness through
referring to the events in the tale, and sometimes apparently giving
rise to the story.
T h ere are a great num ber o f proverbs about hospitality, and
about both bravery and caution. Change o f fortune is another
comm on theme, and m any involve recognition o f different
types o f people, whether w ithin or outside the fam ily the good
and bad, crafty and cunning, honest and truthful, or angry and
overbearing (the last compared to a log with a centipede in it).
T h ro u gh all these topics, and many others, the Z u lu are able to
comm ent on and mould their social experience; their proverbs
are an important facet o f their conversation and literature.
T h e final example is that o f the^Azande o f Central Africa, a
people characterized b y their powerful aristocratic class o f princes,
1 See Dunning 1946.

Proverbs

423

their state organization which gives rise to competition and

jealousies among those at court, an authoritarian model for social
relationships, and the tortuous and suspicious mentality which
goes with all this. T h e y have developed a characteristic mode o f
speech, *s a n z a an oblique and ambiguous form o f expression o f
which their proverbs form only one example. T h is double-talk
(including proverbs) has been described by Evans-Pritchard in
a series o f articles drawing mainly on his own field-work supple
mented b y published collections o f proverbs.1
T h e Zande term sanza means both proverb and spite (or
jealousy) and, in addition, refers to the whole range o f circum
locutory expression in which there is a hidden as well as a manifest
meaning, usually malicious. T h e Azande have many proverbs and
these are marked b y the same kind o f characteristics as those o f
other peoples. T h o u gh they do not rhym e or show much allitera
tion, there is a certain rhythmic balance between the two halves
o f the sentence: Cautious one was grazed b y the spear / it w ent
right through the careless one', or 'T h e little gazelle stood by
the fallen tree / and said he was bigger than it*. W here this balance
is lacking the Azande tend to supply it with an introductory half
sentence. Besides the presence or absence o f such prefaces there
are also other variations in their verbal structure, and it is common
for the proverb not to be spoken in full but to be alluded to b y
only an extract from it.
T h e content o f the proverbs is sometimes derived from Zande
folktales and their meaning depends on a knowledge o f these.
But the metaphors seem most frequently to arise from the intimate
Zande knowledge o f wild life, connected with the fact that their
traditional form o f settlement is in scattered homesteads with w ild
life all around them. V ery many o f the images are taken from w ild
creatures, from hunting, and from collecting activities; far fewer
are taken from agricultural work and domesticated plants a fact
which Evans-Pritchard thinks may be explained by the relatively
recent change from hunting and collecting to agriculture.
Evans-Pritchard has documented fully how the situation in
which a proverb is cited affects its import, so that any one proverb
may have a w ide range of meanings. So, for example, the saying
T h e wildcat honoured itself by its cry* can be variously inter
preted as a reference to the respect resulting from its cry, with the
1 Evans-Pritchard 1956, 1963a, 19636, 1964a.

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Prose

implication that even if someone is not honoured he can manage

for himself; to the fact that the wildcat prizes her own cry and
that each person talks after his own fashion; and to the idea that
as there is no one who w ill exalt me I m ust exalt myself.1 M any
similar examples are given o f differing interpretations o f single
proverbs.
Proverbs seem most typically to be used for warning, to bring
another to a sense o f proportion, and to comm ent on or ridicule
anothers action. T h e y are also used, in a connected way, to take
the wind out o f anothers sails in a dispute. T h u s if, instead o f say
ing bluntly you are bringing trouble on yourself, you express it
as the undeniable fact that the frog brings down rain on its own
head, you have an unanswerable argument, you come out o f it
uppermost, and you manage to sting your opponent while sound
ing quite innocent.
Besides its sense o f proverb, sanza also refers to ambiguous or
hidden language in a w ider sense. Usually this form of speech is
used in a malicious way, often with the intention o f speaking at
someone while seemingly making an innocent remark. It is par
ticularly common between man and wife and between courtiers in
jealous competition w ith each other at a princes court, but it
enters into all Zande social activities. B y using this form o f speech,
as with the narrower class o f proverbs, a man can get at another
while at the same time keeping him self under cover; the sufferer
will not be able to make overt trouble, and in any case the insult,
being hidden, can be withdrawn without loss o f dignity. T h is
oblique and veiled form o f speech is one which, as Evans-Pritchard
shows in some detail, fits the suspicious and competitive outlook
o f the Azande, and can be connected w ith the authoritarian nature
o f their relationships and their dominant fear o f witchcraft.
T h is hidden and oblique form o f speech, then, with its over
tones o f playing safe and avoiding direct commitment, is one de
veloped to a high degree among the Azande. However, it seems
to be an element in all use o f proverbs, one which comes out
particularly in situations o f conflict or uneasy social relationships
and where depths of hidden meaning are sensed or implied.
Proverbs in Africa are effective in a whole range o f ways in life
and in literature. T h is m ight not be immediately obvious from the
manifold, usually unannotated, volumes in w hich African proverbs
1 Evans-Pritchard 1963a, p. 6.

Proverbs

4*5

have been collected. T h eir literary significance emerges not only

in the beauty of words and Jorm, their sense of detachment and
generalization, and their connections with other genres o f artistic
expression, but also in the aptness and perceptiveness with which
they are used in an actual context. Perhaps the most interesting
point to emerge from the writings o f those who have studied the
actual use o f proverbs is their situational aspect. Proverbs are used
on particular occasions, b y individuals in a particular context,
and their w it, their attractiveness, their insight, even their meaning
must be seen as arising from that context.1
' Like stories and riddles, proverbs are among the most readily collected
items of African oral art. Besides references already given here and in the
Bibliography, see the useful bibliography and list of collections in Bascom 1964;
also references in Doke 1947 and the extensive bibliography in the general
article by J. Werner, Sprichwortliteratur , Z . f . Volktkunde 57, 1961; 58, 1962.
- v

15

RIDDLES
Riddles and related forms. Style and content. Occasions and
uses. Conclusion
I t m ay be surprising to find riddles included in a survey of oral
literature. However, riddles in Africa have regularly been con
sidered to be a type o f art form , albeit often of minor and childish
interest, and have long been included in studies o f oral literature.
T h ere is some reason for this. A s will be seen, riddles often involve
metaphorical or poetic comment. T h is indeed was pointed out
long ago b y Aristotle w hen he remarked on the close relation o f
riddles to metaphorical expression.1
In Africa riddles, are comm on and have been extensively col
lected. T h e y arc often very closely related to proverbs. L ike pro
verbs they are expressed briefly and concisely; they involve
analogy, whether o f meaning, sound, rhythm, or tone; and the
tw o forms are sometimes even combined in the proverb-riddle.
Riddles also sometimes have close connections with other aspects
o f literary expression w ith such forms as enigmas and dilemma
tales, with stories and epigrams, and with praise names. In spite
o f such connections, however, riddles emerge as a distinct type of
literary expression in m ost African cultures,2 often one considered
to b e the special domain o f children and, unlike proverbs, to be
for entertainment rather than for serious consideration.
I
In a general w ay riddles are readily distinguishable b y their
question-and-answer form and by their brevity. However, a pre1 Rhetoric iti. 2 (1405*): Good riddles do, in general, provide us with satis
factory metaphors: for metaphors imply riddles, and therefore a good riddle can
furnish a good metaphor (quoted in Georges and Dundes 1963, p. 116).
1 T h e local word for riddle sometinjes also covers other forms of literature,
e.g. Yoruba alp (riddle, story), Efik Qhe (story, riddle, tongue-twister, proverb),
but it is common for there to be a distinct term (sometimes in addition to a more
general one), e.g. in Nyanja, Mbundu, Dogon, Lyele, etc.

Biddles

pn

liminary point must be made here. T h e popular European or

American picture o f a riddle is o f an explicit question to w hich a
respondent must try to puzzle out the correct answer. African
riddles are not altogether like this. T h e 'question' is usually not an
interrogative at all in form but, outwardly at least, is a statement.1
A n answer is expected but very often the listeners are not directly
asked to guess but merely faced w ith an allusive sentence referring
analogously to something else which they must then try to identify.
T h e point, furthermore, is normally in some play o f images, visual,
acoustic, or situational, rather fhan, as in many English riddles, in
puns or plays on words.
There are many different forms. V ery often the riddle is in the
simple form o f a phrase or statement referring to some well-known
object in more or less veiled language. Examples o f such simple
riddles seem to occur all over the continent. There is the T on ga
Little things that defeat us M osquitoes, M akua 'W ater standing
up Sugar-cane, Fulani Be b o m ; come morning, give birth
Fresh milk (because milk is left overnight before making butter),
Shona 'T h e little wildcat in the long grass Scissors, or the
Lam ba T h e house in which one does not turn round T h e grave.2
T h e N yanja have a characteristic series o f riddles in which not
only the answer but the question1 consists o f one word only
Invisible! T h e w ind, Innumerable Grass.4
In most o f these riddles, what is required is that the answerer
should identify the object indicated in these allusive general
statements. In fact many riddles need a double process to solve
them, fo r the analogy in the initial statement m ay not be im
mediately obvious; therefore the solver must first select the salient
features o f the object or situation mentioned, and then go on to
1 There are a few genuine exceptions to this, but some o f the apparently
interrogative forms which are sometimes published seem to be due to the
European collectors conscious or unconscious imposition o f the form more
familiar to him. T h e great majority of these who have explicitly paid attention
to the form o f riddles in Africa are agreed that the typical pattern is not an
interrogative one. (For some exceptions see D . C . Simmons, Specimens o f Efik
Folklore', Folklore 66, 1955, p. 422; Bascom 1949, pp. 7 f. (Yoruba).)
* J. R. Fell, Folk Tales o f the Batonga and Other Sayings, London, n.d.;
Harries 19426, p. 282; Am ott 1957, p. 382; Fortune 1951, p. 41; Doke 1934,
p. 363 The initial statement which poses the problem will be referred to as question
even though this usage is clearly not strictly accurate.
* Gray 1939. PP- 258. 261; similar or identical examples are given in Dewar
1900.

428

Prose

identify a similar object. A good example is the Fulani riddle I

threw a lance, it flew over seven rivers and w ent and speared the
C h ief o f Masinas bull, where the answer is A vulture, the salient
features being the fact that it goes far and lands on an animal.1
M any other examples o f such analogies could be cited for example,
the Karanga riddles M y fathers little hill w hich is easily destroyed
Porridge because o f the way porridge is heaped up on the plate
and soon eaten, or A flame in the hill A leopard, and the Zezuru
T h e little chap who plays the typewriter T h e tongue.12*
In these simple riddles, then, some generalization or some image
is suggested and the answer involves pointing to the particular
object implied. T h e answer here is the name o f the object indicated,
often just one word, and the analogy is one o f meaning; the
respondent must recognize the similarity o f situation, character, or
behaviour in the statement and its answer.
T h is type seems to be the most common African form. But
there are also other cases in which the analogy involved is not o f
meaning but o f rhythm, sound, or tone, often with a longer reply.
These forms must now be considered.
Sometimes there is a rhythm or balance between question and
reply. Am ong the Thonga, for example, one riddle runs O ver
there smoke goes up, over there smoke goes up, to which the
reply, in balancing structure, is 'O ver there they mourn over a
chief, over there they mourn over a poor m an.1 Junod speaks o f
many other Thonga riddles in which there is a kind o f rhythm in
the syllables so that the questions and answers are like two little
verses, balancing each other in a poetical w ay,4 a form o f riddle
distinguished in the native terminology from the one-word-answer
type. Similar strophic riddles are recorded among the Transvaal
Sotho,1 a form reminiscent o f the similarly balanced proverbs so
common in the same areas.
Besides rhythm, the analogy may take the form o f tone resem
blance between question and reply. T h is has been recorded, for
1 Amott 1957, p. 381. This article is one of the best analyses of African riddles
and is drawn on largely here.
1 N. A. Hunt, 'Some Karanga Riddles', Nada 29, 1952, pp. 94, 96; Fortune
i 95 >. P- 39 .
1 Junod and Jaques, 1936.
4 Junod 1938, p. 41.
* C. Endemonn, RStsel der Sotho', Z E S 18, 1927/8; cf. Cole-Beuchat 1957,
pp. 144- 5 -

R iddles

429

instance, from the Luvale o f Zam bia,1 the L uba o f the C ongo,12*and
the Ibibio-E fik group of Soythern Nigeria.1 In these riddles, oc
curring in languages in w hich tonality is a significant feature, the
question and answer are marked by identical or similar tonal
patterns. T h e Ibibio tone riddles described b y Simm ons are
characterized by their erotic content or allusions, practically all
containing some reference to vagina, clitoris, or coition, as in
th e riddles B ig ships B ig clitoris and 'S u n shines (and) come
hits ground (and) splits Vagina opens (and) come takes fly (and)
chews , each characterized b y exact or nearly exact tones in each
part.4*N o t all tone riddles have this erotic content (Luvale ones, for
instance, do not1). But th ey all share the characteristic that the
analogy between statement and reply is primarily one o f form
tone and perhaps rhythm rather than meaning.
So far at least, tone riddles have been infrequently recorded.
O ther acoustic images, on the other hand, are very common indeed.
V e ry often the question consists o f just one word or phrase to
suggest the answer through its sound aloiie. T h is sound m ay be
one which gives a direct onomatopoeic impression even to foreign
ers. In the Kam ba riddle 'S e h !' the answer is A needle stabbed
the sand, for the question imitates the sound made b y a needle
dropping point first into the sand,6 a riddle not unlike the similar
Lim ba one from the other side o f the continent, *Seysekede,
answered Y ou cannot put a needle on a rock (because the sound
o f setfsekede suggests the sound made by the needle when it falls
over). M ore often the acoustic analogy implicit in the question is
not immediately obvious, for ideophones conventionally recognized
in one culture are used to convey an acoustic image to members
o f that culture. T h u s the M akua riddle lSiya eyeya, an ideophone
representing a state o f life, is answered A n orphan, the Fulani
'K erim kerbu ttjolla' represents G oats feet on hard ground,7 the
1 C . M . N . White, African Tone Riddles, Man 58, 1958.

* Van Avermaet 1955.

1 Simmons 1956, 1958. (Not all the so-called tone riddles he gives are, in
fact, characterized by marked resemblance in tone. Efik tone riddles' on
Simmonss own showing (1958) include several with dissimilar tones, so that
it may be misleading to overemphasize the tonal aspect and ignore other possible
analogies such as, perhaps, rhythm or similarities in structure betweeen question
and answer.)
4 *956, pp. 80, 82. Simmons gives only very literal translations.
* White, loc. cit.
6 Lindblom iii, 1934, p. 26.
7 Harries 19426, p. 287; Am ott 1957, p. 381.
8161S14
Ff

43<>

Prose

T h on ga have Shigiligigi shigi T h e rain o f early morning , and

the K am ba 'A d is answered T h e old man drank a little m ilk in the
dry season the sound conventionally suggesting the mans in
tense thirst and his enjoyment o f the milk.1 In none o f these is the
connection a natural one w hich could be recognized b y someone
unacquainted with the culture.
Besides composing the whole question, there are also ideophones
and nonsense-words suggesting some acoustic image w hich appear
as ju st one part. T h e M w era riddle, for example, Ndendende the
plaiter o f a mat is answered b y A hornet *, the ideophone nden
dende suggests the way the hornet moves its hindquarters rapidly
in filling its hole for egg-laying, ju st as the leaves shake about
when someone makes a mat.2 In Karanga the riddle 'Magiregede
walks as if he were proud is solved by A wagon because o f the
onomatopoeic word which imitates the sound o f wagon wheels
on a road,1 while the process o f going to the spring w ith an empty
pot and coming back with a fu ll one is suggested b y the sounds
in T o go u, to return i, w here u in Shona represents the em pty
sound, i the full one.4 Sometimes both acoustic and visual images
are combined in a riddle, as in the Fulani example explained by
A m o tt 'TU siudi taasaanad siraefel woogana T h e gait o f a large
pigeon in sand ; the long-drawn-out words, w ith a few short
syllables in between, correspond to the image o f feet dragging
through sand with occasional hops; the high-tone and close vowels
o f tiisUmi alternating with the low-tone open vowels o f taasadnad
represent the pigeons gait, swaying from side to side.5
T h e characteristic form o f riddles in Africa, then, is for some
analogy to be recognized between question and answer, m ost fre
quently an analogy o f meaning or o f sound, with simple one-word
reply, but also occasionally longer forms involving tonal and rhyth
m ic correspondence. T h ou gh less fully documented than proverbs,
m any collections o f riddles o f this form have been made from all
parts o f the continent.
T h ere are, however, certain other specialized form s w hich ap
pear to occur only rarely (or else have proved less accessible to
collectors) and often overlap to a larger extent with other forms of
oral literature. T h e y will only be treated very briefly here.
0

1 Junod and Jaques 1936, no. 159; Lindblom Hi, 1934, p. 7.

1 L . Harries, Some Riddles of the Mwera People, A fr. Studies 6,1947, p. 24.
1 Hunt, op. cit.,p. 91.
4 Fortune 1951, p. 42.
* Amott 1957, p. 381.

Riddles

431

First, among some peoples riddles m ay be particularly closely

connected w ith proverbs, so that either the answer or even both
parts o f the riddle are sayings accepted in other contexts as pro
verbs. One group o f riddles recorded from Leopoldville stands
out as being integrally connected w ith proverbial sayings.' T h u s
change o f fortune and the mortality o f all men are brought out in
the two proverb-riddles L a terre toum e T u possedes, tu seras
p r iv i and T o i q ui te couches sur un lit et moi qui me couche stir
une natte N ous sortirons (de ce monde) par le m6me chemin.2
Similar instances have been recorded from Southern Nigeria. In
a number o f the E fik tone riddles the response is said to be a pro
verb,1 while the neighbouring Anang Ibibio have a distinct class
o f proverb-riddles distinguished from their simple riddles which
are only to amuse. In these both portions o f the riddle consist o f
a proverb. One example is T h e vine grows along the edge o f the
pit H e is made to speak in'public. T h is is explained b y the fact
that the Anang take a great pride in eloquence and their children
are early trained to develop verbal skills; the proverb instructs
children tg attempt public speaking as early as possible, but at the
same time recognizes that this is difficult for them : just as a vine
has to struggle to grow along the edge o f a hole (and not into it,
which would be easier but would cut off the sun), so a child must
struggle to overcome his shyness and endeavour to speak.4 Though
proverb-riddles have not been widely reported as a distinct named
type, it is possible that proverbs may in fact turn out to occur more
frequently than realized in connection with riddles, either ex
plicitly or b y allusion, so that in a full analysis o f the literature o f
any one people proverbs and riddles should really be treated in
conjunction. A m on g some o f the Central Bantu, for instance, a
common riddle that occurs in various forms Something I threw
over to the other side o f the river Eyes5 recalls the equally
common proverb T h e eye crosses a frill river*, metaphorically
signifying that desire goes beyond the possible.
A similar overlap o f forms is the w ay in w hich praise names
occasionally occur in riddles. T h u s among the Tlokw a the
1 Referred to as devinettes-proverbes, S. Comhaire-Sylvain, Quelques
devinettes des enfants noirs de Leopoldville, Africa 19,1949.
1 Ibid., p. 51.
1 Simmons 1958, p. 135.
4 Messenger i960, p. 229. He gives eighteen other examples of these proverbriddles, with full explanations of each.
J The Ila form (Smith and Dale ii, 1920, p. 330).

434

Prose

Three exist where three are not:

Commoner exists where there is no king, but a kingdom cannot exist
- where there are no commoners;
Grass exists where there is nothing that eats grass, but what eats
grass cannot exist where no grass is;
Water exists where there is nothing that drinks water, but what
drinks water cannot exist where no water is.1
Several other examples, including a threefold classificatory epi
gram, are quoted b y Arnott who points out their similarity in cer
tain respects to both proverbs and riddles. T h ey recall the striking
Hausa saying, classified as a riddle by Fletcher but with much in
common with the Fulani epigrams: T h ree things are like three
things but for three things: Sleep is like death but for breathing;
marriage is like slavery but for wifely respect; a guinea-fowl is ,
like grey cloth but for being alive.2

ii
These longer and more complex form s are, however, relatively
rare, and most o f the remaining discussion about style and language
will be concerned with the more common simple riddle where some
analogy is drawn, usually of sound or sense, between a brief ques
tion and often briefer answer.
There are various approaches to the analysis of style and form
in riddles. Those interested in structural analysis3 have pointed
to certain basic elements in riddles and the way these are related
to one another. In particular Georges and Dundes pick out the
descriptive element in the question, the referent o f which has to
be guessed. M any riddles consist o f more than one such descrip
tive element; for example, It has a head / but can t think M atch
has two elements. Th ese two, in turn, may be in opposition to each
other (as in the common European type such as W hat has legs /
but cannot walk? Chair). Furthermore, the opening question
may be either literal or metaphorical in terms o f its solution. T h is
* Arnott 1957, p. 384.
2 Fletcher 1912, p. 51. A somewhat similar riddle-type classification is found
in the Galla hymn in which six wonders are listed (Chadwicks iii, 1940, p. 553).
3 Especially Georges and Dundes 1963 (from whom the following examples
are taken) and D . F. Gowlett, Some Lozi Riddles and Tongue-twisters Anno
tated and Analysed*, A fr. Studies 25, 1966. (For an alternative analysis and
critique of Georges and Dundes see C . T . Scott, Persian and Arabic Riddles:
a Language-centred Approach to Genre Definition, Internal. J . American
Linguistics 31. 4, Oct. 1965, part II, Publication 39.)

R iddles

435

becomes clear with some examples. A riddle like 'I know some
thing that sleeps all day and walks all night A spider is to be
counted as a literal form ; whereas T w o rows o f w hite horses on
a red hill T eeth is metaphorical in that the solution (teeth) and
the subject o f the descriptive element (horses) are different and
are only analogous through a metaphor. Following this analysis
one can thus distinguish between different types o f riddles in
term s o f (i) oppositional/non-oppositional (further divided into
three sub-types), and (2) literal/metaphorical.1
T h is kind o f analysis can be applied to African riddles. It seems
in general that the typical European oppositional type is not nearly
so common in Africa where, if w e adopt these structural terms,
non-oppositional riddles are b y far the most frequent.12 A meta
phorical rather than a literal emphasis too seems to be to the
fore. However, when w e reach this point we find w e have to extend
some o f these structural elements, in the sense that, as described
earlier, analogies of sound, tone, or rhythm have atso to be taken
into account in many A frican riddles in addition to analogy in
term s o f content. T h is kind o f generalized structural analysis,
then, can be helpful up to a point in studying African riddles, but
beyond that we have to turn to more detailed accounts.
W hen we come to the precise style in which riddles are expressed,
it quickly becomes obvious that this tends to vary from culture to
culture according to the favourite forms current at any particular
time. T h u s in parts o f W est A frica (e.g. Hausa, Fulani) reference
to the number three is common in both proverbs and riddles;
among the Makua many o f the simple riddles open w ith I went to
m y friend a n d . . . (as in I went to my friend and he gave me
a black chain (Black) driver ants) ;34the Kam ba have a series open
ing I was about t o . . . ; the Zulu apparently like long riddles;
w hile the Thonga make frequent use o f the opening tseke-tseke*
1 For further details and elucidation see articles cited and further references
given there.
1 See instances throughout this chapter and the discussion in Gowlett, op. cit.
For an exception to this, see a number of the Yoruba riddles discussed by
Bascom which are based on a pattern o f 'two statements which appear to be
mutually contradictory, incongruous or impossible (Bascom 1949, p. 4). There
are also a number of scattered exceptions, including some of those cited in this
chapter.

1 Harries 19426, p. 279.

4 Lindblom iii, 1934, pp. 26-7; Callaway 1868, pp. 364-74; Junod and Jaques
1936.

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Prose

However, in spite o f this great variation in style, there are cer

tain typical stylistic patterns w hich seem to have a very wide
distribution. T h e initial statement which serves as the question
is sometimes preceded by some such phrase as Guess w h a t . .
or b y some stereotyped formula w hich introduces a w hole session
o f riddling.1 V ery often, however, the statement is not itself ac
companied by any explicit indication that a solution has to be
found. T h e answer is typically in the form o f a single w ord, but
longer phrases and sentences occur even in simple riddles.
Am ong the Lam ba, for instance, a characteristic reply is in the
form o f a question as in their version o f a common Bantu riddle
'T h a t w hich has no ending W hat o f the path, who has ever come
to the end o f it ?*
W ithin riddles themselves, there are also some typical patterns.
T h e thing alluded to in the question is often referred to in terms
o f some other specific (and favourite) noun. T h is w ill be clear
from some examples. Am ong the T lokw a a common form o f ex
pression is in terms o f cattle, so that the referent is veiled b y being
called our cow or cattle : Black cattle which stay in a forest
L ice and M y fathers cow is green outside and black inside
Reed1 are only two o f many examples.4 T h e Ngala use A chief*
in a similar w ay (e.g. U n ch ef avec des boutons sur tout le corps
L ananas) and the Bambara ask about C e petit homme .s Proper
names o f people, or sometimes o f places, are not uncommon in this
context, occurring, for example, among the Lyele o f U pper Volta,
the Y orub a o f Nigeria, and the Shona o f Southern Rhodesia where
a question about T h e thing o f so-and-so is frequent.6 T h e first
person singular (pronoun or possessive) also constantly appears.
M ost common o f all is the use o f kinship terms in reference.
Father or M y father seems to be the most popular o f all (occur
ring frequently in the riddles o f peoples as far apart as, for example,
the Lim ba, Lyele, and Y oruba o f W est Africa, the Fang o f W est
Equatorial A frica, the Ngala o f the Congo, and the Shona and
1 See below, p. 439.
1 Doke 1947, p. 118. On the different forms of questions and answers in Bantu
riddles see Cole-Beuchat 1957, pp. 137-42.
1 Nakene 1943, pp. 136, 134.
Names o f other animals are, however, surprisingly uncommon in the ques
tion part of riddles, contrasting with their frequent appearance in stories and
proverbs.
> Comhairc-Sylvain, op. cit., p. 43; Travel^ 1923, pp. 50-3.
6 Fortune 1951, p. 32.

Biddles

437

Tlokw a o f Central and southern Africa). Other kin, too, frequently

appear mother, children, grandfather, even affines (as in the
Shona Y our staggering, M r. Son-in-law, where did you drink
beer? T h e chameleon1).
T h e language o f riddles is sometimes said to be archaic and
certainly often contains apparently meaningless words. Puns and
word play are not a significant aspect, but appear occasionally, for
instance in Yoruba riddles.12* A s will already be obvious from
examples cited, the language o f riddles is also marked b y a frequent
use o f reduplication, ideophones, and diminutives (occasionally
augmentatives) w hich take the form either o f special prefixes, as
in Nyanja, or o f separate adjectives conveying the idea o f small
ness, usually applied to the main noun in the question.1
In general form riddles seem to represent a relatively fixed type
o f oral literature. T h e ir stereotyped brevity offers little oppor
tunity for variation or elaboration and there is little i f any stress
on performance. T h e creative aspect m ay in any case be limited,
in that simple riddles are so often the domain o f children. However,
occasional variant form s have been recorded between which in
dividuals can choose,4* and several authorities mention the fact
that new riddles are constantly being made, presumably within the
general and particular stereotypes just discussed.1
In content, riddles can include just about every sphere o f natural
and human life, and vary according to the preoccupations and
customs o f the society in w hich they are told. A n understanding
o f the point o f a riddle thus often depends on a knowledge o f the
ways o f a particular society. T h e Nuer riddle, for instance, Guess
what big man it is near whom they have the wedding talk but
he never makes a remark It is a barn is explained b y the fact
that among the N uer, w edding negotiations commonly take place
near a barn.6 Som e o f the stock comparisons suggested in the
questions have already been mentioned m y father, our cow*,
etc. and the answers, according to w hich collections o f riddles
are often classified, range from the human body, tools and
1 Ibid., p. 34.
> Bascom 1949, p. 5.
* On linguistic structure sec Cole-Beuchat 1957, pp. 142 ff.
* e.g. the three versions of the Limba acoustic riddle where the ideophone
kikiri kifor) suggests the great size of a pregnant woman. (Finnegan 1967, p. 339.)
1 See e.g. Schapera 1932, p. 217; Smith and Dale ii, 1920, p. 324; Bascom
*949 . P- 5 6 R. Huffman, Nuer Customs and Folk-lore, London, 1931, p. *05.

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Prose

implements, and domestic life, to examples from the animal and

vegetable world, crops, and natural phenomena like the moon or
stars. M any riddles give vivid visual impressions, particularly
those about the natural w orld, which often indicate close observa
tion. T h e Nyanja, for instance, have a riddle about the fly, T h e
chief from the north w hen walking says, w here I cam e from is
good, where I go to is good because the house-flys habit of
nibbing its front and back legs together alternatively suggests to
the N yanja a feeling o f satisfaction.1 T h e K gatla riddle T e ll m e:
a green cow which bears w hite calves It is the mimosa tree
gives a vivid picture o f the white thorns on the green tree, while
a Thonga riddle compares the wild apricots root to A red
copper bangle.2 T h ere is evidence of more imaginative obser
vation in the Makua riddle about the moon A very beautiful
thing which (if you) say to it, Come on, something inside it
refuses.3
There are some stock subjects which occur w idely whatever
the other variations. O ne o f the most common is that of the
various staple crops maize, millet, yams, etc. in different parts
o f the continent. Another is that o f the sexual and obscene refer
ences which are so common in riddles that D oke, in his general
description of Bantu riddles, can say that many o f them 'take the
place o f the lewd joke o f other communities.4 M an y examples
could be cited of this. T h e erotic Ibibio riddles have already been
mentioned.3 T h e Lam ba too have many obscene riddles, while
the Shona specialize in riddles characterized by their suggestive
ness but to which the real answers are always in fact innocent.6
Others are more outspoken, like the Bambara C e petit homme se
m it en colire, dansa longuem ent jusquk en vom ir; lorsquil eut
vom i, il mourut L e m em bre viril.r Besides such stock topics,
certain riddles with the same content but different form s sometimes
have a wide circulation. A m ong the Bantu, for instance, Doke
notices the very frequent occurrence, in various versions, of a
riddle about an egg (A house without any door) and about hair
(e.g. I sowed my big field and reaped it, and m y hand was not
full).8
* Gray 1939, p. *63.
> Schapera 1932, p. 220; Junod 1938. p. 40.
* Harries 19426, p. 276.
* Doke 1947, p. 118.
* Simmons 1956.
* Fortune 1931, p. 31.
1 Trav 616 1923, p. S3 8 Doke 1947, p. 118.

Biddles
*

439

in

T h e occasions for the asking o f simple riddles are strikingly

similar throughout Africa. Th ere are tw o main situations in w hich
they occur. Riddle-asking is often a prelude to the telling o f stories,
typically by children in the evening before the rather more serious
narrations comm ence; sometimes, as among the Fang, riddles are
asked between stories, partly to allow the professional story-tellers
some respite in their lengthy narrations.1 T h e other very common
occasion is a game o f riddling, usually among children; this is
conducted according to special rules and formulas and is often
highly competitive. Again it takes place most typically in the
evening.12
Com petitive riddling has been extensively described for many
o f the Bantu-speaking peoples. In southern Africa it not in
frequently takes the form o f a contest between two teams. A m ong
the Tlokw a, for instance, the children are divided into two groups
as they sit round the fire in the w inter when it is too cold to be
outdoors, and the first group to start goes on asking until the
other side can no longer answer.34A m on g some other Bantu peoples
such as the N yanja the competition is between individuals, not
teams. Schapera describes the game as played among the K gatla: if
two children are involved, one begins asking the other, and con
tinues until the other is unable to answer; the second then says
L et the buyers come' and questions in turn; when the other
fails he says T e ll me yours, and there is an exchange o f the riddles
each had not known. A similar process is followed w hen several
children are playing, with a division into sides which b u y the
unknown riddles from each other, the more skilful side taunting
their opponents/ T h is fiction o f having to pay in return for the
unguessed answer is a fairly common theme. Am ong the N yanja
in Central A frica the pretended recompense is cattle (W e pay
up oxen. H o w m any? Such-and-such a number)5 while in
Kenya the one giving up has to name a town (G ive me a tow n
1 Tardy 1933, pp. 28a, 294.
1 On time and place for riddles in Bantu see -especially Cole-Beuchat 1957,
PP- 133- 5 * Nakene 1943, p. 126.
4 Schapera 1932, p. 216.
Werner 1906, p. 214-

44

Prose

G o to Mombasa*, etc.).1 Similarly in W est Equatorial Africa

M bete children have to 'pay* a village.2
Such riddling competitions are often conventionally preceded
b y special formulas w hich are surprisingly alike throughout the
Bantu area: in Lam ba, for instance, the propounder says tyo
(guess) while the other replies kakesa (let it come) or kamuleta
(bring it), and then the riddles are asked;2 the Nyanja lead off
riddle-sessions round the communal fire w ith cilape! (a riddle!)
answered by nacize/ (let it com e!) and a shout o f wafa ('he has
died) when the right answer is given;4 and innumerable similar
examples could b e cited from Bantu-speaking peoples.*
Elsewhere, in W est A frica for instance, riddles are asked before
or during performances o f stories or songs. Even where there is
apparent similarity to the Bantu pattern w ith introductory for
mulas before riddling sessions, the practice is very different be
cause o f the absence o f the competitive element. Am ong the Anang
Ibibio o f Southern N igeria, for instance, riddle-asking is preceded
b y special introductory formulas, posed b y an individual, then
answered in unison b y the group. T h e riddles are not told to
baffle the audience or stimulate them to guess, for the answers are
all known; even w hen a new one is invented, the originator adds
th e reply w ith the question instead o f asking for a solution. T h e
emphasis is very m uch on communal entertainment rather than
competition: T h e enjoyment o f a riddle derives from the sharing
o f it b y members o f a group rather than from the challenge to the
imagination it presents.6
Riddles also occasionally occur in other contexts. Am ong the
Lam ba, and perhaps other peoples, riddles are sometimes referred
to in speeches as a striking w ay o f holding peoples attention, and
thus contribute to the literary richness o f oratory.7 In addition to
the M akua song-riddles, even simple riddles sometimes have con
nections with initiation, as among the T lo kw a where the special lan
guage learnt in the initiation ceremonies is connected with riddles.8
A. C . Hollis, Nyika Enigmas , J . A fr. Soe. z6, 1917, p. 135.
* Adam 1940, P- 134; see also Lukas 1937, p. 163 (Kanuri), Calame-Griaule
1965, pp- 471-2 (Dogon), and Berry 1961, p. 16 n.
* Doke 1934, p. 362.
4 Gray 1939, pp. 253-4.
% See also Doke 1947, p. 117; Werner in Hollis, op. cit., pp. 135-6; ColeBeuchat 1957, p. 137.
4 Messenger 1960, p. 226.
7 Doke 1934, P- 36a.
* Nakene 1943, p. 127. See also the use of riddles in initiation schools in

Biddies

441

T o some extent riddles also appear in various spheres o f every

day life. A m ong the Chaga, riddles can be used to influence some
ones action through irony or indirect suggestion, to im ply a threat
w ithout actually stating it, or to convey secret information.1 Thiskind o f usage somewhat resembles that o f proverbs and seems
m ore usual with the com plex form s than with the more simple
riddle mainly used b y children. T h e Anang proverb-riddles, for
example, are used, like proverbs, b y people o f both sexes and all
ages in a multitude of social situations and are expected to instruct
as w ell as amuse,2 while am ong the neighbouring Efik the complex
tone riddles, with their proverbial replies can be used for oblique
cursing, humorous greeting, succinct explanation o f an action, and
to embarrass women through their erotic content.1
However, such everyday usages are relatively rare. Conven
tionally riddle-telling is a social pastime, for amusement pure and
sim ple. T h is aspect o f riddling is brought out by two further points
about its occasions. First, it tends to be a separate and restricted
activity. It is very common in all parts of Africa for there to be a
general rule not always strictly observed, but a rule nevertheless
that riddle-telling should take place in the evening and not
during the day; in East Central Africa there is sometimes the
further limitation that riddling should not take place during cer
tain phases o f the farming year.'* Riddles are thus, unlike proverbs,
regarded as a kind o f marginal activity reserved for special times
rather than a universal aspect o f human activity and communica
tion. Secondly, it is generally children who are expected to take an
interest in the light-hearted asking of riddles. T h ere are some
exceptions to this: among the Yoruba, for example, both children
and adults are said to enjoy riddles although they are especially
popular w ith young children,5 w hile Kamba adults, even more than
children, compete in riddling; tw o outstanding riddle experts are
described as exchanging 'riddles and answers with a rapidity re
sem bling two skilled fencers m aking thrusts and parries.6 H ow
ever, these situations are not common. M ore generally, riddles are
Kenya (H. E. Lambert, Some Riddles from the Southern Kenya Coast,
Swahili 33, 1962/3, p. 17).
1 Raum, op. cit., p. 219.
1 Messenger i960, pp. 225-6.
1 Simmons 1958, p. 124.
4 Fortune 1951, p. 30; E. ten Raa, Procedure and Symbolism in Sandawe
Riddles, Matt n a i . 3, 1966, p. 391.
* Gbadamosi and Beier 1959, p. 53; Bascora 1949, p. 7.
6 Lindblom iii, 1934, p. 4.

44*

Prose

associated with childrens amusement in contrast to the more

serious use of proverbs by their elders.
T h e explicit purpose o f riddles, then, is almost invariably amuse
ment. Commentators have, however, predictably pointed to many
o f their incidental functions as well. Besides entertainment, riddles
are sometimes claimed to play an indirect educational role by
training children in quick thinking, in intellectual skill, and in
classification,1 providing, through their sexual or com ic bias, a
release from tensions imposed by the moral and social code,2
or leading to a fuller participation in social life.3 T h e y are also
like proverbs, sometimes used as an indirect means o f saying
something without the risk involved in stating it explicitly. These
points have been frequently mentioned. Less common are the in
cidental functions of the more complex riddles as a form o f com
munication, an esoteric accomplishment associated with initiation,
and the encouragement o f either sharing or competitiveness implicit
in various forms of riddling. In the various societies these indirect
functions o f riddle-asking have greater or lesser significance.
W hat all seem to share, however, is the explicit assumption that
riddles, or at least the sim ple form o f riddles, are primarily for
entertainment and, unlike proverbs, not for any deeper purpose.

IV

Like proverbs, riddles represent a concise form o f conventionally

stereotyped expression. T h ou gh in some ways riddles can be
regarded as a relatively m inor and crude form o f art, suitable
merely for children, they nevertheless have some relevance for
the general literary background. This comes out partly through
the connections o f riddles w ith literary forms like proverbs, epi
grams, praise names, and rhetoric. M ore significantly, the imagery
and poetic comment o f even the simple riddles are clearly part
o f the general literary culture. Insight into the nature o f peoples
behaviour can be expressed in a poem or a story or in a riddle.
T h e Kgatla say Tell m e: two civet cats which when they fight
are not to be separated I t is a married couple, while the Kam ba
1 As in the 'structural* interpretation by I. Hamnett, 'Ambiguity, Classifica
tion and Change: the Function of Riddles, Man N.s. a. 3, 1967.
1 Dupire and Tressan 1955 1 For an excellent discussion o f this last point see Blacking 1961.

Piddles

443

show their insight in Matters of importance Childrens secrets.1

There is the Ila comment onrhumankind with It is far A nd its
a long w ay to G o d !, and the Bambara and Lamba express their
view o f man in 'Q uelle est la plus rapide de toutes les choses?
La pensle, and T h a t which digs about in the deserted village
T h e heart (which always turns to think o f the past).* T h at paradox
too can be conveyed vividly in the brief words of a riddle can be
illustrated from the Hausa A prince on an old mat A kola-nut,
in which w e are given a vivid picture o f the way the beautiful pink
or white kola-nuts, so valued a comm odity, are exposed for sale
in the market on a piece o f old m atting.3
M ost o f all, riddles, however simple, involve a play o f images,
visual and acoustic, through w hich insight and comment can be
expressed. In this way, even this very minor form o f art, w ith its
own stylistic peculiarities in different cultures, has its part to
play in the richness o f oral literature in A frican societies.4
* Schapera 1932, p. 227; Lindblom iii, 1934, p. 18.
* Smith and Dale ii, 1920, p. 330; Trav 616 1923, p. 51; Cole-Beuchat 1957,
p. 146.
* Fletcher 1912, p. 51.
* Though riddles tend to be recorded in rather smaller numbers than pro
verbs, there is still a large number of collections, too many to catalogue here.
Useful bibliographies can be found in Doke 1947, Nicolas 1954, Cole-Beuchat
1957, Bascom 1964. See also I. X . de Aranzadi, La adivinanza tit la zona de las
Ntumu: tradicianes orates del bosquefaitg, Madrid, 1962, and, among many other
short articles, J. Jacobs, finigmes tetela, espices et fonction, Aequatoria 25,
1962; B. M. du Toit, Riddling Traditions in an Isolated South African Com
munity, J A F 79, 1966; J. Ittmann, Aus dem Rfitselschatz der Kosi, Z E S 21,
1930; J. Bynon, 'Riddle Telling among the Berbers of Central Morocco*, A ft.
Language Studies 7-8, 1966-7.

1 6

ORATORY, FORMAL SPEAKING, AND

OTHER STYLIZED FORMS
Oratory and rhetoric: Burundi; Lim ba. Prayers, curses, etc.
W ord play and verbal formulas. N am es

T h e art of oratory is in West Africa carried to a remarkable pitch of

perfection.* At the public palavers each linguist [official spokesman]
stands up in turn and pours forth a flood o f speech, the readiness and
exuberance of which strikes the stranger with amazement, and accom
panies his words with gestures so various, graceful and appropriate that
it is a pleasure to look on, though the matter of the oration cannot be
understood. These oratorical displays appear to afford great enjoyment
to the audience, for every African native is a bom orator and a connois
seur o f oratory, a fact that becomes very manifest in the Courts of
Justice in the Protectorate, where the witnesses often address the juries
in the most able and unembarrassed manner; I have even seen little
boys of eight or ten hold forth to the court with complete self-possession
and with an ease o f diction and a grace of gesture that would have
struck envy into the heart of an English member o f Parliament1
T h is comment on Ashanti rhetoric in the nineteenth century
could be paralleled b y similar remarks about th eoratorical ability
o f m any African peoples. O f the Bantu as a whole a linguist writes
that they are 'b o m orators; they reveal little reticence or difficulty
about expression in public. T h e y like talking. T h e y like hearing
themselves in an assem bly.. .
W e hear too o f the significance o f
oratory among the uncentralized Anang Ibibio^ or Ibo o f Eastern
Nigeria. O f the Ib o, indeed, Achebe has stated categorically
that 'the finest examples o f prose occur not in those forms [folk
tales, legends, proverbs, and riddles] b u t in oratory and even in
the art of good conversation.. . . Serious conversation and oratory
1 R. A . Freeman on his visit to Ashanti in 1888, quoted in F. Wolfson (ed.),
Pagtant c f Ghana, London, 1958, p. 193.
) Messenger 1959; i960, p. 229.
* Doke 1948, p. 084.

O ratory , Form al Speaking, and Other S ty lized Forms

445

. . . call for an original and individual talent and at their best

belong to a higher order. 1 Sim ilar comments on the relevance of
oratory could be multiplied.2 It is not in fact surprising that many
peoples w ho do not use the w ritten word for formalized transactions
or artistic expression should have developed th e oral skill o f
public speaking to perform these functions.
Y e t for all the passing references to the significance o f oratory,
there seems to be little detailed documentation on the actual prac
tice o f public speaking as a skill in its own right. It is true that
oratory, a form in which oral characteristics are o f the essence,
does not possess the same easily recognized literary qualifications
that can be discerned in, say, panegyric poetry or fictional narra
tive w here parallels in literate cultures are easy to find. Oratory
falls between, on the one hand, highly conventional and recognized
literary expression and, on the other, informal everyday conversa
tion. B ut even though the line between rhetorical and informal
speech is not easy to draw, oratory in many African societies would
seem to deserve further consideration than it has yet received.
T h e speeches o f classical antiquity have, in one form or another,
long been counted as one form o f literary expression w ith aesthetic
as well as purely practical appeal, and it is not ridiculous to regard
these as comparable to some o f the oratory o f African societies.
T h ou gh little detailed material has been published and the account
given here is thus exceedingly thin, it seems worth including a few
points and examples, not least if this leads to further investigation.
In A frica, as in antiquity, one o f the commonest contexts for
public speaking is that o f a law case, a formalized occasion which
allows both litigants and judges to display their rhetorical skill.
T h e ir conscious aims, doubtless, are clearly functional; but
aesthetic considerations are also involved, i f only to add to the
persuasiveness o f the speech. Som e of these speeches are highly
sophisticated and skilled. W e often hear o f the use o f proverbs
on such occasions to appeal to the audience or make a point w ith
extra forcefulness. In the case o f the Anang Ibibio their famous
eloquence arises largely from their skilful use o f proverbial
1 Achebe in Whiteley 1964, p. vii.
* See e.g. Koelle 1854, p. vii (Kanuri); Tracey 1962, p. 26 (Karanga);
Rodegem i960 (Rundi); Andnsejewski and Lewis 1964, p. 4 (Somali); M . Tew,
'Elicited Responses in Lele Language , Kongt>-Oversee 16, 1950; E . Jones,
Krio in Sierra Leone Journalism , Sierra Leone Language Reo. 3, 1964, p. 24
(Krio in election speeches, etc., on public platforms).
8U1S14

Gg

446

Prose

maxims, particularly in court. L on g speeches are given b y plaintiff

and defendant to explicate their cases, lasting as long as an hour
each and listened to w ith rapt attention. T h e Ibibio audience
is particularly appreciative o f a speech which abounds in original
or unusual proverbs to capture their interest, or w hich cleverly
introduces an apposite saying at just the crucial moment.1
T h e formalized and literary aspects o f legal rhetoric can even
take the extreme and unusual form of a portion o f the speeches
being delivered as song. T h is is apparently sometimes the case in
M bala litigation in the C ongo. T h e formal interchange between
the opponents is partly conducted through spoken argument, but
this is then followed b y a snatch of allegorical song in w hich the
supporters o f each party jo in w ith voice and drum, the two sides
drawn up to face each other. A n extract from one case is quoted
as follows:
1 ST p a r t y . I was in my house and would have liked to stay. But he
has come and wants to discuss the matter in public. So
I have left my house and that is why you see me here.
(sings)

I am like a cricket. I would like to sing, but the wall of

earth that surrounds me prevents me. Someone has
forced me to come out of my hole, so I will sing.

(continues
argument)

Let us debate the things, but slowly, slowly, otherwise

we will have to go before the tribunal of the white people.
You have forced me to come. When the sun has set, we
shall still be here debating.

(sings)

I am like the dog that stays before the door until he gets
a bone.

o p p o n e n t . Nobody goes both ways at the same time. You have told
this and that. One of the two must be wrong. That is why
I am attacking you.
(sings)

A thief speaks with another thief. It is because you are

bad that I attack you.2

Political discussions are also obvious occasions for oratory

indeed the two are often closely related. A t the local level at least,
there are not infrequently rules about the order in w hich such
1 Messenger 1959 and Ch. 15 above.
1 Quoted in Brandcl >961, pp. 39-40, from L . A . Verwilghen, notes to Folk
Music 0/ Western Congo, Ethnic Folkways Records P 427,1952, p. 3.

Oratory , Form al Speaking , and O ther S ty lized Form s

447

politicians m ust speak, and accepted conventions o f style, content,

and set phraseology which'speakers m ore or less follow. Such
political speeches often shade into other formal and public
occasions involving, say, speeches o f welcome, religious injunc
tions, sermons, harangues, or solemn marriage transactions.1
A few o f the orators seem to be real professionals, as in the case
o f the Ashanti 'linguists described b y Freeman in the quotation
given earlier. These men were the spokesmen of kings and chiefs
among the Akan. N ot only were they charged with repeating the
words o f their patron after him, acting as a herald to make it clear
to all his audience and to add to his utterances the extra authority
of remoteness, but they were also expected, in the words o f D anquah, to perfect the speech o f a ch ief who was not sufficiently
eloquent, and to elaborate his theme for him. T h e linguist should
not add any new subject-matter, but
he may extend the phrases and reconstruct the sentences and inter
sperse the speech with some of the celebrated witty and philosophical
reflections for which they are justly celebrated to the credit o f both
himself and his Chief. . . .12
In another description:
When the Linguist rises up to speak in public, he leans upon the Kings
gold cane, or a subordinate linguist holds it in front o f him. He is going
to make a speech now, and it is sure to be a happy effort. It will sparkle
with wit and humour. He will make use freely of parables to illustrate
points in his speech. He will indulge in epigrams, and all the while he
will seem not to possess any nerves so cool, so collected, so self-com
placent I He comes of a stock used to public speaking and public
functions.2
T h e use o f heralds whose sole function is to repeat the w ords o f
the speaker and thus endow them w ith greater dignity or volum e
is not w ithout other parallels in W est Africa, and is a practice
which has lent itself well to the situations, under colonial rule at
least, w here the speeches o f administratpr or missionary were
transferred, sentence by sentence, through the intermediary o f an
interpreter.
1 The literary aspects of some of these conventionalized utterances are dis
cussed in the following section.
1 J. B. Danquah, Gold Coast: Akan Lotus and Customs, London, 1928, p. 42.
2 C. Hayford, Gold Coast Native Institutions, London, 1903, p. 70.

448

Prose

M ost speeches, however, seem in fact to be made not by pro

fessionals but b y experts w ho acquired their skills in the course o f
carrying out their various political, religious, or ju st good-neigh
bourly duties in the society. Such men like the L im ba 'big men
described below are recognized b y others as skilled in speaking,
reconciling, and persuading, and it is partly through such skill
that they retain their positions; but this is m erely one aspect o f
their specialized functions as political leaders, judges, or public
figures. There are also those who merely possess a general ability
to speak well people skilled more in the art o f conversation and
the use o f proverb and metaphor to enrich their speech than in the
more formal arts o f public oratory. There is no general rule about
the background and training o f those regarded as particularly
eloquent, for this varies according to the structure o f the society
in question.
H ow far oratory varies not only between societies but even in
different groups w ithin one state m ay be illustrated from the king
dom o f Burundi, one o f the few areas in w hich some detailed
investigation o f rhetoric has been carried out. T h is can be followed
b y a brief account o f the very different society o f the Eim ba o f
Sierra Leone.
Traditional B urundi (for the time described b y A lbert1) was
a highly organized state, marked b y an extreme degree o f hierarchy
between the various ranks in the comm unity in particular be
tw een the cattle-keeping lords (the Tutsi) and th e farmer-peasant
class (the Hutu). T h e different classes have their ow n special speech
patterns, and there are also stylized ways o f address considered
appropriate according to the status, sex, or age o f the speaker, and
to the particular personal or political relationships o f those directly
involved. T h e rules o f rhetoric can thus be closely related to the
social and political structure.
In Burundi, eloquence is thought to be o f the greatest signifi
cance, both practical and aesthetic, whether it is used in legal cases,
political transactions, petitions, the stylized phrases o f polite inter
course, or the art o f elegant conversation:
Speech is explicitly recognised as an important instrument of social
life; eloquence is one o f the central values o f the cultural world-view;
and the way o f life affords frequent opportunity for its exercise. . . .
1 Albert 1964, based on field-work 1955-7.

O ratory , Form al Speaking, and Other S ty lized Forms

449

Argument, debate, and negotiation, as well as elaborate literary forms

are built into the organisation of society as means of gaining ones ends,
as social status symbols, and as skills enjoyable in themselves.1
It is among the upper classes above all that the ideals o f oratorical
ability are most stressed. T h e very concept o f good breeding and
aristocracy, imfura, implies speaking well as one o f its main
characteristics. Aristocratic boys are even given formal education
in speech-making from the age o f about ten. Albert describes the
content o f their training:
Composition of impromptu speeches appropriate in relations with
superiors in age or status; formulas for petitioning a superior for a gift;
composition of amazma, praise-poems; quick-witted, self-defensive
rhetoric intended to deflect an accusation or the anger of a superior.
Correct formulas for addressing social inferiors, for funeral orations,
for rendering judgment in a dispute, or for serving as an intermediary
between an inferior petitioner and ones feudal superior are learned in
the course of time as, with increasing age and maturity, each type of
activity becomes appropriate. Training includes mastery of a suitable,
elegant vocabulary, of tone o f voice and its modulation, of graceful
gestures with hand and spear, of general posture and appropriate
bodily displacements, of control o f eye-contacts, especially with in
feriors, and above all, of speedy summoning of appropriate and effective
verbal response in the dynamics o f interpersonal relations.*
A s a result o f such formal training and unconscious assimilation
o f the practice o f eloquence, T u tsi men of the upper classes acquire
a consciousness o f superior education and elegance o f speech. T h e
accepted stereotype, quite often lived up to in practice, is that the
aristocrat possesses grace and rhetorical ability in speech and bear
ing, marked particularly by his characteristic dignity and reserve
in public address.
T h e formal speech of peasants is expected to be rather different.
Social pressures ensure that peasants are aware o f the tactlessness
o f producing an elegant aristocratic-type speech before a superior.
In their own strata, however, they may speak with equal
dignity and ability for instance, as judge, in council, or in funeral
orations. T h ere are some set differences. T h e Hutu use a different
accent, and the figures o f speech tend to reflect a peasant rather
than an aristocratic background and to be drawn from agriculture
rather than herding or the courtly life. T h e gestures o f the
1 Ibid., p. 35.

* Ibid., p. 37.

4 So

Prose

muscular arms and heavy set body and the facial expressions will
not be like those of the long-limbed, slim-boned. . . Batutsi
herders, but they will not lack studied grace and dignity. 1
T h e recognized stylistics in Rundi oratory, marked particularly
in the case o f the aristocrats, are dignity of bearing and speech,
enhanced, on occasion, by effective use of the rhetorical technique
o f silence. There is also careful attention to stance, gesture, modu
lation o f the voice, and grace and elegance of vocabulary according
to the criteria o f Rundi culture. T h e highest ideal o f public speak
ing, in Rundi eyes, is that associated with an ttmushingantahe, a
recognized elder and judge. H e is expected to be
intelligent, in complete command o f the arts of logic, a fine speaker
i.e., he speaks slowly and with dignity, in well-chosen words and
figures of speech; he is attentive to all that is said; and he is an able
analyst o f logic and of the vagaries of the human psyche.1
T h e position of an umushingantahe depends both on a prolonged
experience o f legal cases and on wealth for the expensive initiation
party. Others too, however, can use the same type o f rhetorical
style. It is one considered particularly appropriate in political
speeches o f advice or persuasion before a superior, or in serious
decision-making and problem-solving. On the other hand, rhetori
cal fireworks are more to be expected when individuals are trying
to forward their own interests as litigants in a law case, or in
personal petitions to a superior.
A further characteristic o f Rundi rhetoric is the premium placed
on elegance and appropriateness rather than on literal truth. T h is
has a practical value. It is known that a man is more likely to be
able to defend himself on the spot by rapid and plausible false
hood, mixed with a suitable amount o f flattery, than b y a careful
telling o f the truth. But there is also an aesthetic aspect graceful
appropriate speech is considered attractive in its own right. A llu
siveness, often through figures o f speech, is prized in both speech
making and polite social intercourse. Even a slight request may be
addressed to a superior with stylized formality and oblique allu
sion. T h u s a petition by a poor man for a trifling gift like a new
pair o f shoes to replace his worn-out ones is expressed through
circumlocution. One does not hide one's misfortunes; i f one tries
to hide them they will nevertheless soon be revealed. N ow , I know
1 Albert 1964, p. 4*-

1 Ibid., p. 45.

Oratory, Form al Speaking, and O ther S ty lized Forms

451

a poor old man, broken in health and ill; there is a spear stuck in
his body and he cannot be saved.By this he indicates his old shoes,
so ragged that one is being held together b y a safety-pin (the
spear).1
It is not only the style and content that are conventionally laid
down for Rundi speeches, but in some cases the general setting
as well. T h e rules o f precedence are strictly observed, in keeping
with a society in w hich ranked hierarchy is o f such significance.
T h u s the order in w hich individuals speak in a group depends on
their seniority:
The senior person will speak first; the next in order of rank opens his
speech with a statement to the effect, Yes, I agree with the previous
speaker, he is correct, he is older and knows best, etc. Then, depending
on circumstances and issues, the second speaker will by degrees or at
once express his own views, and these may well be diametrically opposed
to those previously expressed. No umbrage is taken, the required formula
o f acknowledgment o f the superior having been used.2
T h e situation o f making a formal request is also highly stylized.
A special type o f bearing is obligatory. I f it is a request for a bride
or cattle, the normal form is for the petitioner to
assume a formal stance, often standing during delivery of the formal
request. His speech has probably been carefully composed in advance.
T o follow the general formula, one refers to the gift one has brought,
usually several pots of banana beer; one expresses love, admiration,
and respect for the excellent qualities, real, imagined, and hoped-for, of
the superior; one expresses the hope that the affection is reciprocated;
one again refers to the gift, this time as a token of affection; one promises
further gifts in the future; one states ones wish; one closes with a
repetition of the praise of the superior and an expression of hope that
the wish will be granted.3
M uch remains to be investigated in relation to Rundi oratory.
But it is abundantly clear from A lberts publications so far that
the skills of eloquence were highly valued and sophisticated in
traditional Rundi society, and that they present a literary sphere
which, though perhaps marginal, is clearly enough related to
literature to deserve fuller critical analysis. Such skills were ex
hibited in their most extreme form in the elegant formal speeches
o f Rundi aristocrats. But that they were recognized in some degree
1 Ibid., pp. 50-1.

Ibid., p. 41.

2 Ibid., p. 38.

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Prose

at all levels o f society is evident from the explicit aesthetic interest

in these arts; even in their everyday conversation which is near
the bottom o f the [aesthetic] scale, elegance o f composition and
delivery, figures o f speech, and the interpolation o f stories and
proverbs are norm ally called for and em ployed.1
A second case w here one can observe the significance attached
to oratorical ability is that o f the Lim ba people o f northern Sierra
Leone.2 T h ese are a people with a very different culture from
that o f the highly stratified Rundi farmers living in a relatively
homogeneous society, without the marked differences o f wealth
and birth characteristic o f the Rundi state. T h eir speech-making is
correspondingly m uch less sophisticated and specialized. But they
too have their stylized form s o f public address, and oratorical
ability is regarded as an art as well as a necessity.
T o be able to carry out formal speaking pleasingly is one o f the
first essentials o f a L im ba local chief and o f the sub-chiefs and
elders who model themselves on the ideal picture o f a chief. T h ere
are many occasions w hen such formal speeches are obligatory.
M ost important in L im ba eyes are the continual law cases. T h e
local chief, assisted b y his elders or big m en, must sift the evidence
and, after the m ore junior judges have spoken, must sum up w ith
an eloquent speech w hich both analyses the complex rights and
wrongs o f the case and in addition pulls the hearts o f the litigants
to accept his verdict and become reconciled. T h ere are also large
gatherings where local or, occasionally, national political issues are
debated. In .these, th e leading elders and m en o f influence, and,
increasingly, the younger men, take it in turn to make long speeches
marked b y great form ality and very often repetition. M eetings
called to deal w ith an election to chiefship also give opportunity
fo r the candidates to demonstrate their wisdom and oratorical
skill in public. P ublic and formal speeches are also made to w el
com e visitors or returning travellers, exhort juniors, negotiate
marriage arrangements, acknowledge some piece o f news formally
delivered, and as w ell are made during the intervals at dances, at
initiations and ceremonies, and as stylized thanks for a visit, a
gift, or a transaction. Form al speech-making is the characteristic
< Albert 1964, p. 49.
3 The account given here is based on field-work among the Limba (1961 and
1963/4).

O ratory, Form al Speaking , and Other S ty lized Form s

453

quality o f a Lim ba chief in his role o f reconciling people and thus

bringing peace to individuals and to his chiefdom as a whole: But
it is also a desired attribute and activity o f anyone w ith any pre
tentions to authority over others a father canspeakformally among
his chilren, a household head between his dependants, a respected
senior w ife among her co-wives, even an elder boy among his
juniors.
U nlike the Rundi, the L im ba do not provide any specialist
training in rhetoric. It is true that chiefs are sometimes said to be
instructed how to 'speak w ell when, as in the case o f a few o f
their num ber, they go into several weeks seclusion as part o f their
installation ceremonies. But this represents more the explicit sig
nificance attached to oratorical ability than any real attempt at
training. In fact all Lim ba particularly the men gradually as
similate the accepted tricks o f speaking as they listen to their
fathers, the local big men, and the chiefs officiating and settling
disputes on public occasions. T h e young boys begin b y making
speeches among their peers at initiation, farming associations, and
play. T h e n as they grow up they gradually try to speak in more
public contexts and (if of the right social background) in legal cases
and discussions. Finally they m ay become, informally but un
mistakably, accepted as respected elders, responsible for speaking
at the m ost important gatherings.
T h e content o f formal L im ba speeches varies. B ut sentiments
tend to recur. T h is can be illustrated, for example, in marriage
negotiations and legal speeches. T o the Lim ba marriage negotia
tions are regarded as sem i-public transactions. T h e suitor re
presented b y a friend must do far more than ju st undertake to
pay the due bride-wealth and carry out his duties; he must also
speak pleasingly to win over the hearts o f his future in-laws and
impress them with the respect he has for them. T h e speeches are
regarded as something more than mere etiquette b y th e L im ba
participating. Rather, they are a form o f expression w hich makes
those involved feel pleased and proud and conscious o f th e deeper
meanings in life. T h e father o f the girl too must reply in graceful
w ords and convince his listeners o f the sincerity o f his appreciation.
H e thanks the messenger w ho has come, saying perhaps:
I thank you. I thank you for coming. Greetings for [undergoing] the
journey. Greetings for die sun. Greetings for the rain. I, the father o f
the girl, I have no long words to say. I accept by grace o f the mother

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who bore the girl. She says that it is pleasing to her. For me too it is
pleasing to me. I accept
But often the basic content o f this is drawn out to very m uch greater
lengths. Other stages in the marriage follow at intervals, each
accompanied by similar speeches o f thanks, appreciation, implied
undertakings for the future, and tactful moralizing about the nature
and obligations o f marriage.
In legal speeches the m oralizing is often even more explicit as
the leaders try to reconcile contenders and soothe angry feelings.
Though the litigants themselves state their own cases, thenspeeches seem to be regarded more as background factual data
for the court, whereas the real flowering o f oratory is in the speeches
o f the judges who, one after the other, address the court in turn,
finally ending with the senior judge (often the chief) w ho uses the
wisdom given by all (as the Lim ba put it) to add to the weight of
his own final assessment and persuasion. In political speeches too
there is a certain amount o f moralizing as well as excited rhetoric.
T h e most elaborate and lengthy o f all speeches are the long
funeral harangues given on th e occasion o f memorial rites for some
important man several years after his death. T h is is one o f the
most important events in L im ba social life, and hundreds o f people
gather from many miles around. One o f the highlights is the
speeches made by the leading m en; they speak in turn, often going
on for several hours, and their words are relayed, half-intoned
sentence by sentence, by a herald who is specially engaged for the
occasion. These orations are even more full o f moralizing than the
legal and family speeches. T h e y dwell relatively little on the charac
ter o f the dead man, and instead reflect on the importance o f the
dead, the duties of the living, the function in life o f the various
groups listening to them, and the general philosophy and ideals
which, they presume, they and their listeners share. A small portion
o f one o f these speeches, this time on the subject o f mutual inter
dependence and the dangers o f pride, ran something as follows,
with each sentence punctuated b y a pause:1
. . . If someone has the reputation of being proud then leave him
alone. He is someone who dislikes taking anything from others. He is
always working hard for himself. [Similarly] if you know a child who
1 A summary paraphrase of a speech on which I made notes in 1961 but did
not have the opportunity to record word for word.

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455

does not pay attention to his parents does not pay attention to his
chief does not pay attention to his mother-in-law1 then people will
never appoint him as chief, he is not good. God will help the man who
shows respect to the chief [i.e. authority]. With some young people,
when they are asked about their behaviour, they just say: Oh, I took
presents to my wife's mother, but now I m tired of giving her things.
Even if someone is a son of a chief, if he doesnt care to work, care for
his parents, for his mother-in-law he mustnt think, even if he tr a
chiefs son, that he will ever be made a chief. . . .
If someone works hard, perhaps he will gain power. And if a powerful
man opens his hands [i.e. gives gifts freely], then he has gained something.
But if he does not give, then his possessions are worthless. Blessings
come from children, from the dead people [ancestors], from God. But
no one can win a reputation without working for it. . . . If God says
goodbye to someone then he shows him the road he must walk on.1 I f
you are appointed [to a position of authority] you must not say that
because you have been appointed you need not do anything; you must
not say that you wont feed [i.e. give gifts to] the people who are working
for you. If you do that, things wont grow well [prosper]. Let no one
think that he is a big man, more than his companions. It is for others to
say if you are a big man. You must think well o f your companions.. . .
There are recognized conventions about the diction, phraseo
logy, and form o f Lim ba speeches, although these conventions are
not very explicitly stated. Gestures are m uch used: elders in
particular stride about in the centre o f the listening group, making
much play with their long, full-sleeved gowns, alternating for
effect between solemn stance and excited delivery when the whole
body may be used to emphasize a point. T h e y are masters o f
variations in volum e and speed: they can switch from quiet, even
plaintive utterance to loud yelling and fierce (assumed) anger, only
to break off abruptly with some humorous or ironic comment,
an effective silence, or a moving personal appeal. Am ong the
best legal speakers figures o f speech are common, as well as
proverbs, allusions, and rhetorical questions. These men are ad
mired for their ability to express their points b y going a long w ay
round in parables. There are also many stock formulas that it is
considered both correct and attractive to use in Lim ba speeches;
in addition to the set phrases which introduce and close a formal
speech, the speakers words also regularly include an appeal to
1 Someone who above all, in Limba philosophy, should receive respect. '
1 i.e. if God disapproves of a mans behaviour, he may send sickness to kill
him.

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w hat the old people did, references to what K am i (G od) does or

does not like (a convenient channel for moralizing o f which some
L im ba take frequent, even tedious, advantage), personal appeals
to members o f the audience, and the frequent conventional ex
pression o f humility through referring to the grace o f those present,
o f superiors, and o f the ancestors. A good speaker, furthermore,
makes sure o f the participation o f the audience in a w ay analogous
to story-telling; he expects murmurs o f support and agreement,
muttered rejoinders o f his rhetorical questions, laughter when he
purposely brings in som ething amusing or exaggerated, and thanks
and acknowledgement w hen he has ended.
'The whole organization o f such speaking is carefully regulated.
T h e speakers rise in order and are not expected to interrupt an
other speaker during his oration with any substantive point beyond
the general reactions o f an attentive audience. A man stands up to
speak when the last speaker passes the w ord to him b y the re
cognized formula so m uch (for what I have to say) (tindc), adding
the name o f the one w ho is to follow him. T h e new speaker must
then speak appreciatively o f the words o f his predecessor (even
i f he disagrees with him ), acknowledge the leading m en present,
then turn to the matter o f his speech. O f course, not all live up to
these ideals all the time. B ut many do, and the L im ba are quite
clear that someone w ho loses his temper or speaks with real and
self-interested anger (as distinct from the occasional assumed anger
o f rhetoric) cannot be regarded as the cool and accomplished
orator whom the L im ba admire so much.
M uch o f the content and phraseology o f these L im ba orations
m ay appear trite to someone from a different tradition. But it is
certain that to the L im b a themselves such speeches, when de
livered b y a recognized orator, complete with flowing gesture and
all the overtones o f accustomed word and sentiment shot through
w ith the fresh insights o f the individual speaker, are an expression,
through a beautiful m edium , o f some o f the most profound truths
o f their society.1

11
T h ere are certain types o f formal speech w hich, without being
as lengthy and elaborate as formal oratory, have a tendency to
become stylized. Just as stylized words in, say, the English Book o f

O ratory , Form al Speaking, and O ther Stylized Form s

457

Common Prayer have a literary interest of their own, and must

have had the same characteristic even before being crystallized
into fixed and written form, so prayers in non-literate societies
sometimes fall into a kind o f literary mode; they may be charac
terized b y a conventional form, perhaps marked by greater rhythm
or allusiveness than everyday speech, within which the individual
must cast his thoughts. T h e same is sometimes true o f other forms
o f stylized expression salutations, curses, oaths, petitions, or
solemn instructions.
H ow far such utterances fall into a more or less fixed and for
mulaic m ode varies according to the conventions o f differing cul
tures. I t is always o f interest to inquire into this, not least because
o f the possibility that the fixity o f such utterances has in the past
been overemphasized.
It is clear that, in some cases at least, f here can be both a con
ventionally recognized over-all form a literary genre, as it were
and also, within this, scope for individual variation according to
speaker and context. This can be illustrated, to take ju st one
example, from the conventional m ode o f uttering curses among the
Lim ba.1 In outline these curses are always much the same. T h e
occasion that gives rise to them is w hen some unknown criminal is
believed to have engaged, undetected, in any of the three crimes
the L im ba class together as theft (actual physical theft, adultery,
and witchcraft). Laying the curse is thought to stir up the
object know n as the swear w hich pursues and punishes the un
known offender by its mystical power. T h e content o f the
curse follows prescribed lines: invocation of the swear, explana
tion o f the offence concerned, instructions about the fate that the
swear should bring on its victim , and, finally, a provision that
confession and restitution should be acceptable, sometimes ac
companied b y a clause that the innocent receiver o f stolen goods
should not suffer. Other details as to time and circumstance are
also laid down.
T h e style and literary structure o f these curses are clearly under
stood b y speaker and audience. T h e y begin and end w ith short
formulas w hich are invariable and have no clear meaning beyond
their acceptance as necessary adjuncts to ritual utterances. T h e
main b ody o f the curse is more flexible. It is usually spoken in
1 For some further details see R. Finnegan, "Swears among the Limba,
Sierra Leone B ull, o f Religion 6. i, 1964.

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a semi-intoned voice, particularly in the phrases describing the

victim s expected fate, and is partially expressed in balanced
parallel phrases which, while not possessing a clear enough over-all
rhythm to be classed as poetry, nevertheless from tim e to time
exhibit a definite beat o f their own. T h e rhythm is further brought
out b y the common accompaniment o f m uch o f the curse a
rhythm ic beat of the speakers stick on the ground next to the
swear, said to arouse it to action and power. T h e dignity of
the occasion is further brought home by the singsong voice of the
speaker and his controlled and rather sparse use o f gesture. T h e
key-phrases which threaten the victim are repeated in various
slightly differing forms, and this repetition, sometimes repeated
yet again by an assistant, enhances the serious and intense tone
o f the curse.
Provided these central points are included, the actual curse can
be longer or shorter according to the wishes o f the speaker, the
heinousness of the crime, or in some cases the magnitude of the
fee or the audience. T h e possible fates to w hich the offender is to
fall victim may be only sketched in, or they m ay be elaborated at
great length. The same is true o f the phrases w hich safeguard the
position o f the innocent and the repentant. Provided the speaker
includes the set formulas at start and finish plus the occasional
prescribed points within the body o f the curse, and covers the
main headings mentioned above, the actual words he uses do not
seem to be a matter o f any very great concern.
T h e kind o f form and content characteristic o f these curses can
best be illustrated from extracts from two L im ba examples. T h e
first concerns the suspected secret theft o f a hen:
K a harika hqtha, ka harika brjtha.
So and so bought a hen. He bought a hen at such and such a village.
The hen was lost. He came to me. The man who ate it did not con
fess. I agreed. We are swearing the eater this morning, Thursday.
The one who took the hen,
If it is an animal in the bush, a wildcat, let it be caught;
Wherever it goes may it be met by a man with a gun;
May it be found by a hunter who does not miss;
If it meets a person, may it be killed.
But when it is killed, may the one who kills and eats it [the wildcat] go
free/o fey.

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459

If it is an animal [that stole it],

Let it be killed in a trap;
Let it be killed going into a hole where it cannot come out.
If it is a bird,
Let that bird be killed by a hunter or by a trap.
If it was a person that stole and would not confess,
Let the swear* catch him.
If it was a person,
If he stands on the road, let him meet with an accident;
If he takes a knife, let him meet with an accident;
If he is walking along the road, let him hit his foot on a stone
and the blood not stop coming out;
If he begins farming when he cuts at a tree with his cutlass,
let him miss the tree and cut his hand;
If he has a wife and she knows about the hen, or two or three
wives who helped him, let the swear fall on them;
If it is a man,
Let him always walk on a dangerous road, and when danger
comes let him think about the hen he has stolen and confess.
If he does not confess,
Let him spend the whole night weeping [from pain].
When they ask why, let the swear answer:
'I am the one who caught the man, because he stole the fowl of
the stranger.
But if he confesses and says I stole it, and if the case is brought to me
[the speaker] and I perform the ceremony [to release him],
Let him no longer be ill.
Quickly, quickly, let him be betterfo fey .
If he does not confess,
Let him suffer long, for he is a thief.
The stolen hen if someone ate it who did not know [that it was
stolen], let the swear not catch them. But those who ate knowing
it was stolen, let them be caught, for it was the strangers hen.
K a harika bytha, ka harika bytha.
T h e second example is when a smith speaks over the pile o f rice
that has ju st been threshed and fanned in the farm. H is words
are intended both to prevent the rice from being diminished
through quarrels and as a curse against anyone who tries to steal

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it away through w itchcraft. T h ough much shorter than the first

example, the same kind o f framework is evident:
K a harika hgtha, ka harika hytka.
You the [dead] smiths, you the dead.
This is the rice, Sanasis rice, that we threshed today.
When we threshed it, it was not much.
When we fanned it, 'it was not much.
But when we gather it together then let it be much!
If it happens that someone tries to bewitch it as a big bird,1 coming
for the rice let it be unsuccessful, let him not be able to take it.
The ones we are warding off, they are no one else but them
[Le. witches].
You the smiths if any one can say since I was bom, I have never
needed the work of the smiths [i.e. iron], let that person only
[i.e. no one] be able to bewitch the rice.
If there is quarrelling in the house,
Let it [the rice] go free, fo fey,
Let it not follow the rice.
K a harika hytha, ka harika loytha.
Prayers are another very common type o f solem n and stylized
utterance which tend to manifest the same kind o f characteristics
as Lim ba curses. T h ere are often accepted form s within which
individuals can extem porize or even develop their own favourite
phrases which they then produce on many occasions. Prayers also
ve ry often have their ow n special mode o f delivery in terms o f
tone o f voice, pitch, speed, gesture, or even occasionally antiphonal form. T h is sets them apart from ordinary speech and can
bring out a rhythm and balance in the central phrases. V ery often
too there is intensive use o f metaphor, images through which the
nature o f G od or the plight o f the livingare picturesquely conveyed.
Consider, for example, this prayer b y a M ilem bw e woman after
a childs birth, recorded in the Congo:
God almighty creator,
God Mbuuwa Mukungu a Kiayima,
Created trees, created people, created all in the countries,
Created die Been' Ekiiye o f Kalanda, created the Beena Mpaaza
and BaaMilembwe,
' i.e. in the form of one of the birds that consume huge quantities of rice in
the fields.

O ratory, Form al Speaking, and O ther Stylized Form s

461

Created the Beena Musolo and Muelaayi, created the Beena

Kibeeji of Muteeba,
Created the white and whitish,
Created the Lomami, created the Luamba Kasseya [two rivers],
Created the land where the sun rises,
Created the fish at Msengye,
Created the eldest and youngest of a twin,
Created the guide who leads (child that opens the womb),
Created the eatable and uneatable ants.
God, thou art the lord,
Who cometh in the roar of the whirlwind,
Out of your dwelling place from where the sun rises.
God creator, thou art father and thou art mother.
Oh God I shouldnt offend You as if You were a man;
There is no gratitude for what God bestows upon you,
Although He gives you a wife who grinds maize, a woman is a basket
[i.e. she leaves her family on marriage],
A man is a refuge, when rain falls I may enter [i.e. a man remains in
the village and may be a solace for his parents].
God if he hasnt given you a gift, Hell remember when you praise
Him,
Honour Him and you arrive at Musengye of the Mulopwe (?).
Everyone isnt a welcome guest, only a child is a stranger who comes
quite new in our midst.
Oh eldest and youngest of a twin, only a child is welcome as a
stranger.
Friend good-day, friend good-day!1
T h e prayer makes striking use o f repetition, in the form o f paral
lelisms through which the creative power of G od is progressively
described, then his relations w ith mankind meditated on, and,
finally, the new-born child is welcom ed.
T h e literary effectiveness o f such prayers can be illustrated in
some further examples from the Congo. These are taken from one
o f the largest published collections o f prayers and invocations,
that b y T h eu w s in his Textes Luba (Katanga).2 These L u b a prayers
are characterized b y their rich use o f figurative language, b y their
rhythm and balance, and b y the stereotyped cliches recognized
as the appropriate and natural w ay o f praying among the Luba.
L ub a prayers are said to be particularly formulaic and fixed, but
1 L . Stappers, Prayer o f a Milcmbwe Woman after a Childs Birth, KottgoOverzee 18, 19s*, pp. 6-7.
* Theuws 1954.
S161814
H h

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new ideas and new form ulas are assimilated.1 It is also clear from
the following examples that a stereotyped form need not neces
sarily imply lack o f variety or literary expressiveness:
1. Toi, qui nous a fendu les doigts dans la main,1
Toi, Createur,
Toi, Kungwa Banze,
Pourquoi nous as-tu toume Ie dos?

2. Ainsi la mort vint parmi nous,

Maintenant nous sommes venus pour tapaiser.
T u &ais fache sur nous,
Alors nous sommes venus, maintenant nous nous sommes rlunis.
3. Et vous, peres et mires, qui etes morts ddja,
De votre coti, tenez vos mains sur nous,
Intercedez pour nous.
4. Toi, qui nous a fendu les doigts dans la main,
Toi, Createur des montagnes,
Toi, Kungwa Banze,
T u nous as toumd le dos.
Fais-nous devenir nombreux, nous tous,
Que notre race soit nombreuse.
I

5. Vous, pires et meres qui etes morts,

Tenez vos mains sur nous,
Nous mourons.12
3
1.

Esprit, Seigneur des Hommes, Seigneur de la terre,

Seigneur des arbres et Seigneur des termiti&res,
Aujourdhui nous venons nous plaindre de notre misire.

2. Seigneur de tous les insectes, cest Toi,

Les legumes nous tuent.4
T h e last two examples are on a much more personal note: the
bitter complaint of a man who has already lost most o f his family
and has now suffered yet another death, and the rather quieter
prayer for help in infirmity. Both are marked by a similar structure
based on repetition, invocation, and complaint. But there is far
more to each than the m ere structure. Colour is added through
imagery drawn from observation o f the human and the natural
world. T h e invocations are in places elaborated to comment on the
divine in relation to the hum an order and forcibly bring out the
1 Thuews 1954, p. 26.
1 i.e. created us as men.
1 Theuws J954, pp. 87-8 (prayer to appease the Spirit when there have been
many deaths).
* Ibid., p. 83 (prayer by a hunter).

Oratory, Form al Speaking, and O ther S ty lized F orm

463

contrast between the dead (and the Spirit) and the survivor strug
gling to grasp the reason for.his sufferings. In short, each piece,
though in practice a prayer, is in effect a kind o f poem expressing
and reflecting on the personal plight and insights o f the speaker:
1. H&as, Toi, Esprit, T u mas frappl, que ferai-je?
Debout dans le chemin, je ne vois plus par oh aller.
2. Je magite comme loiseau qui crre,
L oiseau meme il a son nid,
II revient pour y entrer.
3. Moi, ami avec lEsprit.1
Toi, tu es mort, moi, je reste.
Je mange a satit&
4. L homme qui t'a pris par ses ruses,
Pars avec lui, ne le laisse pas, du tout.
Alois il ny a pas mme dEsprit
Dont ils disent: PEsprit existe. Oh est-il?

5. Lui seul nous tue. Ils orient continuellement: Esprit Esprit!

Nous voudrions le voir.
Aujourdhui, nous mourons simplement comme des moutons.. . .
11. La mort a dressd son camp chez moi.
Dans quelle palabre suis-je pris?
Les choses que je poss&de sont k moi,
Gagnles par mes propres mains.
12. Pleure la miskre, pleure la tienne,

Pleure seulement celle de l'ami qui restait chez toi.

Pintade de ma mere, assieds-toi sur larbre,
Regarde les enfants de chez toi,
Comment ils errent partout

13. Salue les daunts de ma part,

Bien queux me menvoient pas de salut.
Nous ne sommes sur la terre que pour la mort,
Pour voir des malheurs.
14. T u es parti,
Alors qui reste pour moi, pour me pleurer et pour conduire le
deuil?
Cette mort est aussi la mienne,
Si vous sentez de la pourriture, cest moi qui pdrit.*
1 i.e. he had not offended the Spirit or deserved his misfortune.
* Theuws 1954, pp. 147-52.

Prose
1. Queferai-je?
Tous mes amis passent bien portants,
Moi, je suis ici comme un paralyse.
2. Toi, Pfcre-Cr&iteur, aide-moi,
Que je marche avec force.
3. J&ais au milieu de mes amis, T u men as fait sortir.
Maintenant, je suis dans le malheur.
4. Bien, je me fache contre Dieu, je ne me fiche pas contre lhomme
qui se moque de moi,
Lui aussi en verra encore.
5. Si cest un homme qui ma tendu des pi&ges,
Maintenant, il na pas de malheur, mais lavenir est long.
L'Esprit ma regard^, Dieu Tout-puissant,
Pre-Crateur, alors, T u ne tiens plus Tes mains sur moi?
6. Toi, pfcre, qui maimais ici sur la terre,
Si tu maimais tant quand tu 6tais en vie, tu ne me proteges plus
maintenant?
Que je sois avec force.
7. Toi, Pfcre, Pire du savoir,
Qui chassais la petite perdrix au collet et y pris une petite gazelle,
L c termite mangea la gazelle ainsi prise.
8. T u ne me tues pas encore, qui que tu sois?
Celui qui ma jet6 le sort
Quil ne reste pas en vie, quil meure h son tour,
S il nest pas difforme, quil le devienne.
9. Ai-je mangl quelque chose de lui? L ai-je vote?
Lui ai-je jet le sort? Quest-ce que je lui ai fait?
On me mutile comme un voleur. Je ne vole pas.
10. Vous mavez mutite sans plus disant:
Quil ait des malheurs pendant sa vie,
Aprhs la mort, ils ne sont plus sends.
11. Vous mavez bris par terre,
Je me recroqueville comme
Je ramasse les vers.

dans le sol.

12. Qui me tendit ses pifeges disant: pourquoi existe-t-il ?

Les malheurs ne lui manqueront pas,
T6t ou tard.
Je suis le cochon qui meurt dans les taros.1
1 Theuws 1954, pp. 126-9.

O ratory, Form al Speaking, and O ther S ty lized Form s

465

T h o u gh surprisingly little w ork has been done on the literary

aspect o f prayers as distinct from their content or function,1 this
is certainly a fruitful field. T h ere is scope for many studies about
the extent o f individual variation, style, and content; about
the w ay in which, in pagan, Christian, and Islam ic contexts,
prayer m ay be expressed through conventional literary forms; and
about the relationship o f prayers to the other literary genres of
the language.*
T h e same could probably be said o f other formalized utterances
such as blessings, instructions to a new king or leader,1*3 oaths,
sermons,4 lengthy salutations, formulaic speeches o f thanks or
acknowledgement, and so on. E ven so apparently trivial an occa
sion as that o f a beggar approaching a would-be patron may, in
certain communities, have its own expected cliches and form. A n
example o f this a standardized cry by a Hausa beggar can
conclude this discussion:
The name of God we praise, the merciful one we praise; I will
praise Mahamad. Alas, alas for the ignorant onel He is doing a sorry
thingl He is letting off the world,* he knows not that death is approach
ing. Both morning and evening let him regard the prophets o f the great
God; there are none in the world save they who follow Isa and Merau
and the Creator my Lord. The believer in the prophet who fasts, who
has scared charms, who gives alms he will have his reward in this
world, and in the next he will not be without it.4
1 The frequent use of rhythmic phrases, for example, has more often been
associated with its function in aiding memorization than with its literary effec
tiveness in heightening the intensity and tone o f the words.
1 For some further examples or discussions of prayers see, for example,
R. Boccassino, 'La preghicra degli Acioli delTUganda, A m . L a tera n en ri 13,
1949; E. E. Evans-Pritchard, A Note on Nuer Prayers, M a n 52, 1952;
A. Werner, A Galla Ritual Prayer*, M a n 14,1914; R. Van Caencghem, 'Godsgebeden bij de Baluba', A eq u a to ria 7, 1944, to, 1947; A. G. de Pilichy, Prifcres
paiennes dAfrique noire*, R yth m es d u m onde (Bruges et Paris) 7. 1, 1959 ( A A
12.4): J. H. K . Nketia, 'Prayers at K ple Worship, G han a B u ll. T h eolo g y 2.4-5,
1963; Calame-Griaule 1965, pp. 408 ff. (Dogon); and the selection given in
French tr. in Dieterlen 1965.
* e .g . Akan instructions quoted in R. S. Rattray, A sh a n ti L a te a n d C o n stitu
tio n , Oxford, 1929, p. 82.
* See H . W . Turner, P r o file th rou g h P rea ch in g : a S tu d y o f th e Serm on T e x ts
u sed in a W est A fr ic a n in d ep en d en t C h u r ch , London, X965.
* Le. not treating it sternly as a temptation.
4 Fletcher 1912, p. 64.

I
466

Prose

in

toiri'yU /

In Africa, as elsewhere, people delight in playing with words

and on words. Tongue-twisters, for example, are sometimes
popular with children or even adults and even these represent
one type o f awareness o f the potentialities o f language for more
than just conveying information. They have been recorded in
particular in parts of W est A frica, though doubtless examples can
be found elsewhere.1 A m ong the Yoruba, for instance, a favourite
game, according to Ellis, used to be to repeat certain tricky sen
tences at high speed; for exam ple:

Iyan mu ire yo; iyan to ire ru.

When there is famine the cricket is fat (that is, considered good
enough to eat); when the famine is over the cricket is lean (i.e. is re
jected),*
and similar instances are recorded from , the Fulani and the
Hausa. Here are two Fulani examples from A m otts collection:

tfgabbu e mbaggu muudum, mbabba maa e mbaggu mutufum: tjgabbu

firlitiifiyi mbaggu mbabba naa, h00 mbabbafirlitiifiyi mbaggu rjgabbu?

A hippopotamus with his drum, a donkey too with his drum: did the
hippo turn and beat the donkeys drum, or did the donkey turn and
beat the hippos drum?1

ijdabbiimi pucca puru purtinoo-giteeum, e pgu aardini kutiiru furdu

furtinoo-giteeru, e ndu aardini nduguire furde furtinoo-giteere; nde divia
ndu dunya ndu divia nde dunya, nde diwa ndu dunya ndu divia nde dunya,

,
,

I mounted a pop-eyed dun horse, he was driving before him a popeyed dun dog, and he was driving a pop-eyed dun duiker; she jumped,
he ducked, he jumped, she ducked, she jumped, he ducked, he jumped,
she ducked, etc... .*

Puns are another common form of verbal play. These take various
forms. In tonal languages the play is sometimes w ith words

* See also example quoted from West Equatorial Africa in Ch. 11, p. 306.
* Ellis 1894, p. 341.
1 Am ott 1957, p. 391.
4 Ibid., p. 393; Amott gives several further instances and also discusses the
phonetic bases of these tongue-twisters. For Hausa examples see Fletcher 1913,
pp. 56 ff.; Trcmeame 1913, pp. 66-^7. Also D . F. Gowlett, 'Some Lozi Riddles
and Tongue-twisters, Afr. Studies as, 1966; A. Dundes, Some Yoruba
Wellerisms, Dialogue Proverbs and Tongue-twisters , Folklore 75, 1964.

O ratory, Form al Speaking, and O ther S ty lized Form s

467

phonetically the same (or similar) but different tonally. T h is can

be illustrated in the Y orub a punning sentence:
The rain on the shoes (bdtd) goes patter, patter, patter (bata-batabata), as on the rock (bpdta)-, in the street o f the chief drummer (ajulabitd), the drum (bdtd) is wood, the shoes (bbtb) are of hide.1
There is also the Swahili word game played w ith reversed sym bols,
a special kind o f punning.12 Puns can also b e used as the basis o f
an elaborate game. T h is is recorded o f the Hausa where the second
participant in the long punning series finally turns out to be mere
worthless grain. A n extract can illustrate the kind o f exchange,
though the subtlety obviously depends on the actual Hausa words
which make it possible for B to take up each o f A s remarks in
a different sense:
A.
B.
A.
B.
A.
B,
A'.
B.
A.
B.
A.
B.
A.
B.
A.
B.
A.

How art thou?

Am I sick?
A rt thou not reclining?
I recline? Am I a king?
Does not one beat the drum for the king?
Beat the drum for me? Am I a state camel?3
Does not the camel carry a load?
Carry a loadl Am I a donkey?. . .
Does not the bow inflict a sting?
Sting! Am I a scorpion?
Does not the scorpion lie flat against a wall ?
Flat against a wall! Am I a cockroach?
Does not the cockroach go into a calabash?
G o into a calabash! Am I milk?
Does not one imbibe milk?
Imbibe me? Am I tobacco?
Tobacco is worthless grain.4

Besides the use o f puns for amusement in ordinary talk, punning

can also occur in a quite elaborate, stylized w ay in cultivated con
versation. T h is can be taken to such an extent that a man can
1 Ellis, loc. cit.
* See C . Sadeux, Dietiomudre swahili-franfeus, Paris, 1939, t. 1, under
fanytime (p. 390).
1 Because large drums are sometimes carried and played by camel riders in
processions.
4 Fletcher 1912, pp. 60-1. Cf. also the similar Fulani chain-rhyme, also
based on a series o f double meanings, quoted in Am ott 1957, p. 394; and the
simpler examples in Tremeame 1913, p. 67.

468

Prose

even become famous as in the case o f certain Am haric wits

for his linguistic gym nastics and philosophical punning. It is worth
quoting Messings comm ent on this:
The Amharic language lends itself readily to puns and hidden
meanings, since many verbs can have double or triple interpretations
due to the hidden variations in the basic verbal stem and the absence
or presence of gemination o f some consonants. T h e listener must pay
close attention. I f he misinterprets the context and fails to discern the
pun, he is often made the butt of the next tricky joke by those who have
heard it before. The more a storyteller and wit masters the sowaso
grammar o f the Amharic language, the better he can manipulate this
humor.*
A few other instances o f relatively light-hearted sayings also
deserve mention. T h ere is, for instance, the case o f G alla humorous
prose. T h is was the preserve o f the professional jesters who used
to b e m aintained at the small courts among the G alla. T h e wittiest
o f th eir sayings w ere learnt b y heart and regarded as a distinct
literary form hdsd. O ne such piece opens:
In the whole world there are three misfortunes. O f these misfortunes
one is wealth when it is great and increases. The second is thy wife.
T h e third is God, who has created us . . .
and so on, in expansion and explanation o f the same theme.1
Strikingly similar are the various examples o f Fulani epigrams
collected b y A m ott, som e in a form o f verse, others, apparently,
in a kind o f rhythm ic prose. Some o f these resemble a type o f
extended classificatory proverb, often based on a threefold prin
ciple. Another comm on form is for the saying to be opened by a
short general statement followed b y trios o f particulars in parallel
terms. T h e effectiveness o f these epigrams, marked b y repetition
o f key-words and assonance from recurring suffixes, is heightened
b y the structure o f the Fulani language with its practice o f concord
in nominal classes and the potentialities o f verb tenses. T w o
types o f epigrams, one based on a stated general principle, one
a crisp classificatory form , can be illustrated from A m otts
material:
1 S . D . Messing, Ethiopian Folktales Ascribed to a Late Nineteenth-century

Amhara Wit, AlSqa G&bre-Hanna, J A P 70,1957, p. 69.

* Cerulli 193a, pp. 190-1.

Oratory, Formal Speaking, and Other Stylized Forms

469

Three exist where three are not:

Commoner exists where there is no king,
but a kingdom cannot exist where there are no commoners;
Grass exists where there is nothing that eats grass,
but what eats grass cannot exist where no grass is;
Water exists where there is nothing that drinks water,
but what drinks water cannot exist where no water is.1
Beards; three o f fire, three o f sun, three o f shade.
(These are the nine beards o f the world.
Three fire, three sun, three shade.)
Chief, shade,
Teacher, shade,
Tailor, shade;
Blacksmith, fire,
Corn-cob, fire [i.e. roasted in ashes],
He-goat, fire [Le. branded?];
Farm-labourer, sun,
Pedlar, sun,
Herdsman, sun;
These also are three.
These are all the nine beards o f the world.2
T h ere are many other short stereotyped phrases and sentences
which, in varying cultures, m ay be w orthy of literary study. One
could mention, for instance, various short semi-religious formulas
such as the Hausa expressions used after yawning, sneezing,
etc.,3 market cries,4 or the conventionalized calls sometimes attri
buted to birds.3 Formal salutations can also have a literary flavour.
T h u s H ulstaert has collected several hundred such salutations
from the N kundo, which are used form ally to superiors or (in cer
tain form al situations) to equals. T h ese Nkundo forms to some
extent overlap with proverbs and, particularly the more stereo
typed among them, should in H ulstaerts view be given a place
dans le tr& o r du style oral*, for they are marked b y a certain
rhythm ic quality, by figurative expression, and by a use o f archaic
' Ainott 1957, p. 384.
* Ibid., pp. 386-7.
* Fletcher 1912, pp. 68-9.
Ibid., p. 59.
> e.g. among the Yoruba(see Ellis 1894, p. 242), Hausa (Fletcher X912, p. 58),
A2ande (E. E. Evans-Pritchard, A Note on Bird Cries and Other Sounds in
Zande, M an 61, >961), Limba (Finnegan, field-notes); lor longer forms built
up on such calls, see instances and references in Ch. 9, pp. 248

47<>

Prose

language.1 T h e salutation L es Icureuils se moquent du python,

for instance, is an oblique w ay o f saying that only a fool provokes
the powerful, for this is to risk entanglement, even death; while
L a terre est un fruit' suggests that ju st as a round fruit rolls and
turns, always showing a different face, so too does hum an fortune.2
Few formal greetings, perhaps, approach the Nkundo figurative
elaboration, but further study o f this type o f formal w ording in
other cultures could well b e o f interest.
XV

I shall end this miscellaneous list o f minor literary usages with

a brief account of the significance o f names. T h is is a subject o f
greater literary interest than m ight at first appear. In fact it w ould
be true to say that names often play an indispensable part in oral
literature in Africa. Such names as O ne who causes jo y all round
(Yoruba), Its hide is like the dust (a mans name after his favourite
ox whose hide has marks like writing) (Jie), H e w ho is F ull of
F ury (Ankole), Devouring Beast (Venda), G od is not jealous
(Bini), or It is children w ho give fiune to a man (Bini) can add
a depth even to ordinary talk or a richly figurative intensity to
poetry that can be achieved in no more economical a way.
T h ere have been many different interpretations o f these names.
T h e y have ranged from the psychological functions o f names, in
providing assurance or working out tensions,3 to their connection
with the structure of society,4 their social function in m inim izing
friction,5 or their usefulness either in expressing the self-image
of their owner or in providing a means o f indirect comm ent when
a direct one is not feasible.6 A s usual, there is some truth in most
o f these approaches.
One o f the most striking aspects is the way names can be used as
a succinct and oblique w ay o f commenting on their owners or on
others. Junod gives some good examples o f this kind o f use o f
1 Hulstaert 1959, pp. 6, 9.
* Ibid., pp. 46, 50.
1 e.g. J. H. M. Beattie, Nyoro Personal Names, Uganda J . ax, 1957;
J. Middleton, 'The Social Significance of Lugbara Personal Names, Uganda
J . 25, 1961.
4 e.g. J. Vansina, Noms personnels et structure sociale chez les Tyo (Teba),
A R S O M B u ll., 1964 (following Lvi-Strauss).
3 As e.g. H. H. Wieschhoff, 'The Social Significance of Names among the
Ibo of Nigeria, Am . Anthrop. 43, 1941, p. 220.
6 See below.

Oratory, Formal Speaking, and Other Stylized Forms

471

nicknames among the Thonga. One is the instance o f an adminis

trator nicknamed Pineapple or T h e one o f the Pineapple. O n
the surface this was a flattering and easily explained name. B ut it
also had a deeper meaning. T h e reference w as to a custom (said
to be followed b y another tribe) o f burying someone they had
killed and planting pineapples on the grave nothing could be
seen but the leaves, and their crimes w ere hidden. T h e adminis
trators name, then, really suggested one w ho shirked his duty
and tried to bury matters brought to him for judgem ent a fitting
designation for a man who avoided responsibility and sought com
promise. In another case a woman m issionary was called H langanyeti T h e one w ho gathers dry w ood for the fire. In a w ay
this was polite it is pleasant to have a fire and wood gathered
ready. But it also implied the idea o f gathering wood for another
to kindle, o f bringing information to her husband who kindled the
fire, o f being someone who never showed anger herself but stirred
up others. M an y other similar nicknames w ere given to Europeans
b y the Thonga, an effective and quiet com m ent on their characters:
T h e fury o f the bull ; Kindness in the eyes (only) ; T h e little
bitter lemon ; T h e one who walks alone.1
Names can also be used in oblique comm ent. T h u s the Karanga
subtly give names to their dogs as an elliptical w ay o f rfiM ing
another. A dog called T h e carrier o f slanders really alludes to
a particular woman, A waste o f cattle reproves a bad wife, while
'Others and 'A wife after the crops are reaped are a wifes complaint
that others are more loved than she, that she is only fed in tim e o f
plenty, unlike her co-wives.2 Somewhat sim ilarly a parent m ay
choose for his child a name with an oblique or even open comment
on the other parents behaviour like the N yoro Bagonzenku,
'T h e y like firewood, from the proverb T h e y like firewood w ho
despite the gatherer o f it, a name given b y a mother who has been
neglected by the childs father.3
Names are also often used to express ideas, aspirations, sorrows,
or philosophical comments. G rief and an awareness o f the ills
o f life are frequent themes Bitterness, T h e y hate me, Daughter
* Junod 1938, pp. 54-6.
* N. A. Hunt, Some Notes on the Naming of Dogs in Chifcaranga', Nada 29,
1952; some further Karanga examples are given in Ch. 14, p. 411. For a similar
use of dogs' names among the Gbeya of the Central African Republic eee W. J.
Samarin, The Attitudinal and Autobiographic in Gbeya Dog Names', J . AJr.
Languages 4, 1965.
Beattie, op. cit., p. 100.

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Prose

b o m in Death are T h o n ga examples,1 and many other similar

names could be cited expressing suspicion, sorrow, or fear.12
A m ong the O vim bundu a mother can lament a lost child in the
m ore complex form o f a nam e representing an abridged proverb
T h e y borrow a basket and a sieve; a face you do not borrow, in
her knowledge that though she m ay have other children, there w ill
never be another w ith that same face.3 B ut names can also express
jo y fu l sentiments, like th e Y oruba Joy ent'ers the house, T h e
G o d o f iron sent yo u to console me, I have someone to pet,4*
or a sense o f personal aspiration for oneself or others, like the Dogon
nam e Dogono (from D ogay, I t is finished) w hich expresses a wish
th at the son o f a rich m a n m a y end life as he began it, in wealth,2 the
F on assertion that the names owner is not afraid o f his rivals, ex
pressed in the form o f an abbreviated proverb L e crocodile ne craint
pas les piquants q ui servent de defense aux poissons,6 or the Bini
name T h e palm-tree does not shed its leaves w hich claims that
its holder is invulnerable, cannot be caught unawares, and, like
an old palm-tree, w ill stand against all opposition7 and similar
examples abound in th e m any published collections o f names.
Names contribute to the literary flavour o f formal or informal
conversation, adding a depth or a succinctness through their
meanings, overtones, or metaphors. T h e y can also play a directly
literary role. W e have already considered the studied use o f names
in A kan dirges; a w hole series o f different form s (day names,
by-names, praise names, and dirge names) together enhance the
intensity and high-sounding tone of the poems. T h e introduction
o f names in other form s o f literature also perhaps particularly
in the case o f those w ith a historical cast can bring a sense o f
allusiveness and sonority not easily expressed in other forms. T h is
is strikingly so in panegyric poetry, a genre w hich is in Africa so
often based on an elaboration o f praise names like He-who-failsnot-to-overthrow-the-foe., Transform er-of-peoples, or Sun-isshining. Names also play a significant part in the drum literature
discussed in the follow ing chapter. In such a passage as
1 Junod 1938, p. 53.
1 See especially Beattie, op. cit.; Middleton, op. cit.
> Ennis 1945, P- 54 Gbadamosi and Beier 1959, p. 6.

* D. Lifchitz and D. Paulme, 'Les noma individuels chez les Dogon , M 4m.
I F A N S3,1953, p. 33a.
4 C . da Cruz, Petit recueil des pseudonymca (Fon), Etudes dahomlesuue
(IF A N ) 15, 1956, pp. 33-4.
7 Omijeh 1966, p. 36.

Oratory, Formal Speaking, and Other Stylized Forms 473

The ruler of Srkyerc has bestirred himself.
The great Toucan, has bestirred himself. . .
He has bestirred himself, the gracious one.
He has bestirred himself, the mighty one . . .*
the nam es which describe and refer to the person being addressed
are most significant. Names also have a close connection with
proverbs; many names are in fact abbreviations or restatements
o f recognized proverbs and share some o f their stylistic character
istics.
T h e colourful and often figurative quality of many o f these names
should be brought out.12*T h ere are, o f course, m any names which
are relatively straightforward, w ith little overt meaning. Others,
however, are richly allusive. A m on g these, the most interesting
are perhaps the abundant proverb names already mentioned. In
these a proverb is either stated or, more often, referred to b y only
one o f its words, and all the overtones of meaning and allusion
inherent in the proverb can be found in the name. T h u s w e find
several N yoro names which refer to proverbs like Bitamasire
(a reference to the saying nkaito z'ebigogo bitamazire) T h e sandals
w hich w ere made o f banana fibre were inadequate (in other words,
small children cannot be expected to survive long), or Rvboija
m eaning 'I t pecks as a fowl does ju st as one does not know w hich
exact grain will be picked up next by a fowl, only that-rome grain
w ill b e attacked, so one cannot tell w ho will be struck next b y
death.2 M a n y similar cases occur among the G anda w ho are
said to have thousands o f proverbial names among them Nyonyintono (from Nyonyintono yekemba byoya) 'A small bird, to appear
big, m ust clothe itself in many feathers, and the female nam e
Ganya w hich comes from the saying W hen a wife begins to dis
respect her husband it shows that she has found another place
where she intends to go and live.4 In W est Africa, Bini proverbs
about wealth (among other topics) also appear as names in
abbreviated forms that recall the full tone o f the proverb. T h is
is so, for instance, in the recommendation to go prudently about
1 Nketia 19636, pp. 148-9.
* This is not, however, the place for a detailed description of such questions
as who gives names in various societies, how and when they are conferred, or
their varying subject-matter, important though these points may be for die
m eaning and use of the name.
* Beattie, op. cit, 1957, p. zoz.
4 M. B. Nsimbi, Baganda Traditional Personal Names*, Uganda J . 14,1950,
p.stos.

474

Prose

gathering property (It is w ith gentleness one draws the rope of

wealth, i.e. lest it break), or the satiric comment on the lengths to
which men will go for money (I f one is seeking wealth, ones head
would go through a drainage pipe).1
Proverb names that are chosen by their bearers, as among, for
instance, the Fon or the Ovim bundu, offer the opportunity for
their chosers to express their own images o f themselves. O ne man
may choose the name Cindele from the saying C est le B lanc aux
cheveux bien coupes qui traverse la mer (Cindele ca ndumba ci
njaiouka ca kaluttga), indicating that he too would claim to belong
to this superior rank; in another case the choice m ight be K acipiluka (from L e soleil ne danse pas, mais le temps change) claiming
constancy and importance for the names owner, or M unda
(U ne haute montagne ne peut fitre mesuree quk laide des
nuages) to show his pride.2 A s Hauenstein describes it:
L e nom est une espece de condensd, de rdsumd du proverbe.. . . Dans
la coutume de oktdisapa [assuming a proverbial name] lintdressd, dans
une esp&ce de dialogue avec lui-mdme, se dit ce quil aimerait etre
(puissant, riche, respectd, fort, noble), ou alors se confie & lui-mfime, si
1on peut dire, sa misfere, sa pauvretd, ses malheurs.3
Strings o f proverb names can also be used to praise oneself. T h is
is exploited effectively among the Ibo. W hen a man takes an ozo
title he sings aloud a list o f the names he now wishes to be addressed
by. Th ese are usually a series o f proverbs w hich refer meta
phorically to his various exploits and wealth:
I am:
The Camel that brings wealth,
The Land that breeds the Ngwu tree,
,
The Performer in the period of youth,
<
The Back that carries its brother,
The Tiger that drives away the elephants,
The Height that is fruitful,
Brotherhood that is mystic,
Cutlass that cuts thick bushes,
The Hoe that is famous,
The Feeder of the soil with yams,
The Charm that crowns with glory,
1 Omijeh 1966, pp. 28, 29.
* Hauenstein 1962, pp. 106-8.
J Ibid., p. 106. Similar instances are recorded among the Fon of Dahomey
(da Cruz, loc. cit.) and the Bini of Nigeria (Omijeh 1966).

Oratory, Formal Speaking, and Other Stylized Forms

4 75

The Forest that towers highest,

The Flood that cant be impeded,
T h e Sea that cant be drained.*
Praise names are a category of great interest for the student o f
oral literature. T h is is a convenient term used to cover many
honorific appellations and flattering epithets.2 These names have
already been mentioned in Chapter 5 as existing both indepen
dently and as a basis for praise poetry w here they fulfil something
o f the same function as Homeric epithets. Thus the Yoruba
oriki, Zulu izibongo, and Hausa kirart are praise terms w hich occur
both as names and as elements in panegyric, and come in such
metaphorical and evocative forms as, for instance, Fame-spreadabroad, Thunder-on-earth, Father-of-the-people, L igh t o f
God upon earth, Bull Elephant, W eaver-of-a-wide-basket-hecan-weave-little-ones-and-they-fit-into-one-another, H e draws
red palm oil from the necks o f m en, or (one of several praise
names referring to Rhodes) A powerful bull from overseas.
T h e forms w hich particularly concern us here are the personal
praise names applied to individual people. But their effectiveness
cannot be fu lly appreciated without noticing the other, related
applications o f praise names and epithets. It is not uncommon for
these terms to be applied also to non-hum an, even non-animate
objects, and the succinct summing up in this form o f the referents
basic characteristics or, it may be, o f ju st one facet that catches
the imagination is part o f the genius o f these languages. T h u s
the Hausa have elaborate praise term s for animals or for general
categories o f hum an beings. T h e hyena; for instance, has its own
praise name O H yena, O Strong H yena, O Great D ancer , the
eagles reputed wisdom is alluded to in O Eagle, you do not settle
on the ground without a reason (i.e. w ithout seeing something
to eat there), w hile the general kirart o f w ife and husband is O
Woman whose deception keeps one u pon tenterhooks (thorns),
your mouth though small can still destroy dignity. I f there were
none o f you there could be no household, i f there are too m any
o f you the household is ruined.3 Sim ilar types o f praise names
1 Egudu 1967, p. 10.

1 For details about their distribution see Bascom 1965a, p. 485; S. de Ganay,
Les devises des Dogons, T M IE , 4 1 , 1941, p. 1; Lifchitz and Paulme, op. d t.,
p. 354; to which add the si-ytl of the Lyele of Upper Volta (Nicolas >950/4).
* Tremeame >913, PP- >74 - 6 . For further examples of these Hausa ktrari see
Ch. 5, pp. iix-12 .

476

Prose

occur in various languages for particular clans, families, villages

or regions, trees, deities, natural phenomena like rain or storms,
masks, particular professions, or even tobacco. Som e o f these are
expressed in short phrases or compounds only, but others come
in fuller form and can be elaborated into a kind o f prose poem,
closely related both to praise poetry and to the lengthy salutations
and the prayers m entioned earlier.
L ik e the generic praise terms for things, individual personal
praise names take various forms, more or less elaborate according
to context and area. Besides their use as an element in more lengthy
literary forms, they also appear on many ceremonial occasions
terms o f formal address to superiors, public and ceremonial an
nouncement o f the arrival o f some leading personage b y the calling
or drumming o f his praise name (very com m on in Nigeria, for
instance), honorific pronouncement o f a dead m an's praise name
in funeral rituals, o r utterance o f a praise name as a part o f per
sonal aspiration or encouragement o f another to live up to the
ideals inherent in the name.
H ow elaborate praise names can be am ong certain African
peoples is well illustrated from the D ogon tige o f which several
accounts have been published.1 Am ong the D ogon, every child is
given three ordinary names; but in addition each man has his own
individual praise nam e (tige), a kind o f motto. T h ose o f individual
human beings refer less to personal characteristics than to some
general truth; D ogon tig f thus really blend the characteristics o f
praise and o f proverb. O ne mans name is translated as Parole
d homme &g6 (im plying the wisdom expected o f an old mans
words), another (II est) inutile (de faire) un cadeau (it celui qui
ne rem erde jam ais), (Mfime si) le plat (est) mauvais, (bn peut
manger la nourriture qu il contient),* Fem m e menteuse (aussi
rusd qu une femme menteuse), or Hogon, ch ef de la communaute,
ventre de H ogon (i.e. L es meilleurs champs appartiennent au
Hogon, c est lhomm e le m ieux nourri).3
T h ese praise names are'used on a variety o f occasions. One is on
any rather formal occasion in which polite exchange is expected.
T h e y are shouted out during the ritualized combats which take
place in public at a certain stage in funeral celebrations; during
1 de Ganay 1941; Lifazyc 1938; Lifchitr and Paulme, op. cit. 1953,
PP. 343 ffa de Ganay 1941, p. 50.
1 Lifchitz and Paulme, op. cit., p. 346.

O ratory, Form al Speaking, and O ther S ty lized Form s

477

other stages o f the mortuary ceremonies it is the dead mans

praise name that is called he is addressed b y this full title and
conjured to leave his people in peace. Praise names are also much
used at a time o f physical exertion, especially in the farms. W hen
a group o f young Dogon m en jo in together to work, as custom
demands, in their father-in-laws fields, they cry out each others
praise name to incite them to greater efforts, calling on their
amour propre and evoking the names o f the ancestors from whom
the names were severally inherited and o f whom each individual
m ust show himself w orthy.1 T h o u gh the outward contexts for
these names are so different, th ey have something in common:
'la crie du tig? pr&ente presque toujours un caract&re d&lam atoire ou solennel qui diff&re nettement de ldnonc6 du nom et du
ton habituel de la conversation.2 These formally used Dogon
titles are something far m ore evocative and meaningful than any
thing w e normally understand from the everyday sense o f the term
name. A s L ifchitz and Paulm e sum up its uses, it is clear that the
D ogon tig? has relevance fo r their literature and could not easily
be dismissed as a mere label for some individual: 'il est en m&me
temps form ule de politesse, vceu, exhortation, fiatterie, remerciem ent et moquerie.1
Praise names in general, then, evoke more than ju st their in
dividual referent on a particular occasion. Expressed through a
conventionally recognized artistic form , often marked b y elliptical
or metaphorical language, they can bring a range o f associations
to m ind and put the bearer and utterer o f the name in a wider
perspective either placing him within a whole class o f similar
beings (in the case o f category praise names) or (with personal
names) invoking some proverb o f more general application or re
ferring to some quality w hich th e bearer is believed, or hoped, or
flatteringly imagined to possess.
T h e re remain two other form s o f names to mention briefly.
First, the use o f names on drum s (or other instruments). B y a
technique described in the next chapter, long forms o f personal
names are very popular items fo r transmission on drums. Elaborate
form s appear in this context, m any o f them very similar to th e
praise names ju st discussed. Spitting snake whose poison does not

8161314

1 Ibid., pp. 343-4; de Ganay 1941, pp. 47 ff1 Lifchitz and Paulme, op. cit., p. 344
1 Ibid., p.343.
ii

478

Prose

lose its virulence, sharp harpoon, from the village o f Yatuka,

C h ief who takes revenge, w ho stabs civet-cats, root o f the neck
o f th e elephant, son o f him w ho sets his face to w ar . . Th e
man w ho is to be trusted w ith palavers, son o f him w ho bears
the b l a m e . . Bright light does not enter the forest, elder of the
village o f Yaatelia1 these are all drum names or portions o f drum
names used in various areas o f the Congo. In savannah areas it is
not drums but whistles that are used for this kind o f transmission.
Nicolas has made a collection o f such praise names from the L ycle
o f U pper Volta, names w hich in many respects resemble the Dogon
tig$ but with the difference that they are thought m ost effective
when whistled. T h e names bear some relation to proverbs, though
form ing a distinct literary genre, and include such colourful phrases
as L es pas du l& ard sont sonores dans les feuilles (s&ches), L e
vent delatom aden ecassep asla montagne, L e tam bour de lorage
fait sursauter le monde entier, or O n ne prend pas (& pleine main)
la petite vipire.12 These names add to the prestige o f chiefs and
leaders when they are w histled b y those who surround them or
escort them on their journeys.
Secondly, a word about some personal names other than those
directly applied to people. Besides the generic praise and drum
names already mentioned, personal names are also sometimes
attached to certain things which, for the particular people involved,
are o f special emotional or sym bolic interest. A m ong some Con
golese peoples, for instance, the drums themselves have their own
names Mouthpiece o f the village, In the m orning it does not
tell o f death, Drifting about from place to place (as water in a
canoe) it has no father.3 D ogs4*and occasionally horses1 m ay be
given names, and another frequent object for evocative and meta
phorical naming is cattle.6 In some cases these names reflect back,
as it were, on human beings; w ith dogs names this is sometimes

1 Carrington 19496, pp. 87, 92, 99, 102.

* Nicolas I9S<> (pp. 89, 97 , 92). 1954 (P- 88).

5 Carrington 19496, p. 107; see also J. Carrington, 'Individual Names given
to Talking Gongs in the Yolemba Area of Belgian Congo*, AJr. M usic t . 3,
1956.

See examples given above, p. 471.

* See instances of turns de guerre of horses in M. Griaule, 'Noms propres

danimaux domestiques (Abyssinie), J . S ec. africamstes 12, 1942.
6 See e.g. Hauenstein 1962, pp. 112 if. (Ovimbundu); E. E. Evnns-Pritchard,
Imagery in Ngok Dinks Cattle-names, B S O S 7,1934; Morris 1964, pp. 24-5
(Ankole).

O ratory , Form al Speaking, and O ther S ty lized Form s

479

with an insulting intention; cattle names are more often used in

a laudatory and honorific sense, as, for example, the ox-names
given to human beings in many East A frican areas.1
T h e exact literary value o f these names cannot be fully assessed
without further research, particularly on their actual contexts o f
use and on the relationship between these form s and other literary
genres in a given culture. But we can certainly find some literary
significance in the occurrence o f these condensed, evocative, and
often proverbial or figurative forms o f w ords which appear as
personal names in African languages sometimes appearing
directly as elements in large-scale creations, sometimes affording
scope for imagery, depth, personal expressiveness, succinct com
ment, or imaginative overtones in otherwise non-literary modes o f
speech.12

In this chapter w e have worked our w ay down the scale from the
fuller forms like oratory or formalized prayer to small-scale pheno
mena like puns, tongue-twisters, and, finally, names. It is n ot
claimed that all these forms necessarily present any very profound
or polished instances o f oral literature. Som e are o f only marginal
interest (at least in most cultures) and are o f minor significance
compared to th e m ore complex form s discussed in earlier chapters.
However, in som e cases they provide recognized literary genres in
their own right, in others they provide th e elements out o f w hich
more elaborate form s m ay be built up, in others again they provide
the essential background o f a popular interest in words out o f
which the gifted artist can mould his ow n individual work o f art.
It is not only in non-literate cultures that these oral forms take
on a literary relevance. Even in literate societies there are such
conventions among them the art o f conversation, o f sermons,
o f extempore but stylized w itty speeches which may play an
1 See e.g. P. H. Gulliver, Bell-oxen and Ox-names among the Jie', UgandaJ .
16, 1952; E. E. Evans-Pritchard, Nuer Modes of Address', ibid, is, 1948.
2 For some further discussion and instances of names in addition to references
cited in this chapter and in the Bibliography see, among many other articles,
B. Holas, 'Remarques sur la valeur sociologique du nom dans les socits
traditionnelles de lOuest africain, J . Soc. africanistes 23, 1953; M. Houis,
Les noms individuels chez les Mosi, Dakar (IFAN), 1963; C. Spiess, Bedeutung der Personennamen der Edre-Neger in Westafrika, Archiv. fu r Anthro
pologic 16, 1918.

480 .

Prose

indispensable, though often unrecognized, part in the flowering o f

an accepted literature. B ut it seems to be above all in cultures
without our current distinction between formal written literature
on the one hand and informal spoken words on the other
that the artistic significance of these oral form s can most clearly
be seen.

DRUM LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE1

Introductory the principle of drum language. Examples of
drum literature: announcements and calls; names; proverbs;
poetry. Conclusion
I
A r e m a r k a b l e phenomenon in parts of West and Central Africa
is the literature played on drums and certain other musical instru
ments. T h a t this is indeed a form o f literature rather than music
is clear when the principles o f drum language are understood.
A lthough its literary significance has been overlooked in general
discussions o f African oral literature,2 expression through drums
often form s a not inconsiderable branch o f the literature o f a num
ber o f A frican societies.
Com m unication through drum s can be divided into tw o types.
T h e first is through a conventional code where pre-arranged
signals represent a given message; in this type there is no directly
linguistic basis for the communication. In the second type, that
used for African drum literature and the form to be considered
here, the instruments communicate through direct representation
o f the spoken language itself, simulating the tone and rhythm o f
actual speech. T h e instruments themselves are regarded as speak
ing and their messages consist o f words. Such communication,
unlike that through conventional signals, is intended as a linguistic
1 The description in this chapter is mainly based on Rattray 1923; Carrington
1944, 19490, 19496; and Nketia 19636. Nketias book forms the first part (all as
yet available) of his detailed analysis of various aspects of Akan drumming; the
second volume is to discuss drum poetry in more detail.
* e.g. Bascom 1964, 1965a; Berry 1961; Herskovits 1946(1960).

482

Som e S p ecia l Forms

one; it can only be fully appreciated by translating it into words,

and any musical effects are purely incidental.
T h is expression of words through instruments rests on the
fact that the African languages involved are highly tonal; that is,
the meanings o f words are distinguished not only b y phonetic
elements but by their tones, in some cases by tone alone. It is the
tone patterns o f the words that are directly transmitted, and the
drums and other instruments involved arc constructed so as to
provide at least two tones for use in this way. T h e intelligibility o f
the message to the hearer is also sometimes increased b y the
rhythmic pattern, again directly representing that o f the spoken
utterance.
It might seem at first sight as if tonal patterns, even when sup
plemented by rhythm, might provide but a slight clue to the actual
words of the message. After all, m any words in a given language
possess the same combination o f tones. However, there are various
devices in drum language to overcome this. There is, o f course,
the obvious point that there are conventional occasions and types
o f communication for transmission on the drum, so that the listener
already has some idea o f the range o f meanings that are likely at
any given time. M ore significant are the stereotyped phrases used
in drum communications. These are often longer than the straight
forward prose of everyday utterance, but the very extra length o f
the drum stereotypes or holophrases leads to greater identifiability
in rhythmic and tonal patterning.
T h e principle can be illustrated from the K ele people o f the
Stanleyville area of the Congo, whose drum language has been
extensively studied by Carrington.1 In the Kele language the words
meaning, for example, manioc, plantain, above, and forest all
have identical tonal and rhythm ic patterns. B y the addition o f
other words, however, a stereotyped drum phrase is made up
through which complete tonal and rhythmic differentiation is
achieved and the meaning transmitted without ambiguity. T h u s
manioc is always represented on the drums with the tonal pattern
o f 'the manioc which remains in the fallow ground, plantain
with plantain to be propped u p , and so on. Am ong the K ele
there are a great number o f these proverb-like phrases2 to
refer to nouns. M oney, for instance, is conventionally drummed
as the pieces o f metal which arrange palavers, rain as the bad
Carrington 1944, 19490, and 19496.

Carrington 1949a, p. 38.

Drum Language and Literature

483

spirit son of spitting cobra and sunshine, m oon or month as

the moon looks down at the earth, a w hite man as red as
copper, spirit from the forest or he enslaves the people, he en
slaves the people who remain in the land, while war always
appears as war watches for opportunities. V erbs are similarly
represented in long stereotyped phrases. A m on g the K ele these
drum phrases have their own characteristic forms marked by
such attributes as the use of duplication and repetition, derogatory
and diminutive terms, specific tonal contrasts, and typical struc
tures1 and it is evident that they not only make for clear differentia
tion o f intended meanings but also, in Carringtons words, are
often poetical in nature and constitute an important part o f the
oral literature o f the tribe.2
1
T h e sort o f communication that can be sent using these drum
phrases can be illustrated from the K ele drum representation o f
a simple message. It will be noticed how m uch longer the drum
form is, both because o f the repetition necessary to make the mean
ing clear and the use o f the lengthy stereotyped phrases. T h e
message to be conveyed is : T h e missionary is com ing up river to
our village tomorrow. Bring water and firewood to his house.
T h e drum version runs:
White man spirit from the forest
of the leaf used for roofs1
comes up-river, comes up-river
when to-morrow has risen
on high in the sky
to the town and the village
of us
come, come, come, come
bring water of hknla vine
bring sticks of firewood
to the house with shingles high up above*
of the white man spirit from the forest
of the leaf used for roofs.5

1 Discussed in detail in Carrington 19496, pp. 47-54.

* Op. cit., p. 47.

1 Generic drum name for European. The reference is to the very large leaves
used for roof tiles, compared to the Bible.
4 Common drum phrase for house.
* Carrington 1949a, p. 54. There are sometimes additional complications in
practice: e.g. in Kalahari, a language with three tones, tl>ese are abstracted into
a two-tone basis for drumming (Horton 1963, p. 98 n.); in Yoruba tonal glides

484

Som e Specia l Form s

Expression through drums, once thought so mysterious b y

visitors who failed to grasp its principles, thus turns out to be
based directly on actual words and their tones. In a sense drum
language fulfils m any o f the functions o f writing, in a form ,
furthermore, better suited to tonal languages than an alphabetical
script.1 Its usefulness too is undeniable in regions o f dense forest
where the only possible w ay o f communicating, apart from actually
sending messengers, was by sound.2
T h is type o f drum communication is known to occur w idely in
the Congo, Cameroons, and W est A frica (particularly the coastal
areas). T h e sam e principle that o f representing the tones o f
actual speech through stereotyped phrases is also used for
spoken communication through other instruments such as horns,
flutes, or gongs.3 A m on g some peoples such as the Ashanti or the
Yoruba, drum language and literature are very highly developed
indeed. In such cases, drumming tends to be a specialized and often
hereditary activity, and expert drummers w ith a mastery o f the
accepted vocabulary o f drum language and literature were often
attached to a kings court. T h is type o f expression is a highly
skilled and artistic one and adds to the verbal resources o f the
language.

II
T h e relevance o f drum language for oral literature is not con
fined to utilitarian messages with a m arginally literary flavour.
A s will emerge clearly from some further examples, this type o f
are sometimes represented, sometimes not (U. Beier, 'The Talking Drums of the
Yoruba, A fr. M usic 1. 1, 1954, pp. 39-30); in the Congo it is the essential word
tones that are transmitted and not the modifications of these as they would
actually be pronounced in a spoken sentence (Carrington 1949b, p. 59). But the
basic principle of representation of the tones of words seems to apply throughout.
1 A point made in J. Jahn, M untu, A n Outline o f N eo-African Culture (Eng.
tr.), London, 1961, pp. 187 ff.
1 Drum messages can be heard at a distance of between three to seven miles,
according to Carrington 1949b, p. 25.
1 Strictly die term 'gong* should be used to refer to the hollow wooden ideophones or 'slit-gongs typical 'of the Congo area; whereas 'drum', which I have
used in a wide sense here, should be confined to membranophones such as the
Ashanti talking drums, a pair of hide-covered drums, one sounding a high,
the other a low tone. Other media mentioned* for this type of communication
include horns, bells, yodelling of various types, sticks, a blacksmiths hammer
and anvil, stringed instruments, and whistling.

Drum Language and Literature

485

m edium can also be used for specifically literary forms, for pro
verbs, panegyric, historical poems, dirges, and in some cultures
practically any kind o f poetry. Som ething of the range and variety
o f this literature can be seen in the following examples, beginning
w ith relatively simple messages, more typical o f the Congo area
and going on to some o f the com plex poetry found most charac
teristically in the southern areas o f W est Africa.
A m ong the K ele in the Congo, drum communication is used
for formalized announcements. Th ere are drum messages about,
for instance, births, marriages, deaths, and forthcoming hunts or
wrestling matches. A death is publicized on the drum b y a special
alert signal and the words, beaten out in drum language,
You will cry, you will cry, you will cry
Tears in the eyes
Wailing in the mouth
followed b y the name and village o f the dead man.1 T h e announce
ment o f an enemys approach is also transmitted b y a special alert
and the drummed tones w hich represent the words
War which watches for opportunities
has come to the town
belonging to us
today as it has dawned
come, come, come, come.2
Another stock communication is the announcement o f a dance,
again w ith the drum speaking in standardized and repetitive
phrases:
All of you, all of you
come, come, come, come,
let us dance
in the evening
when the sky has gone down river
down to the ground.3
A final K e le message warns that rain is imminent and advises
those in the forest or near the village to take shelter:
1 Carrington 1949a, p. 58.

1 Ibid., pp. 61-2.

* Ibid., p. 65.

486

Som e S p ecia l Forms

Look out, look out, look out, rain,
bad spirit, son of the spitting snake
do not come down, do not come down, do not come down
to the clods, to the earth
for we men of the village
will enter the house
do not come down, do not come down, do not come down.1

N ot all the peoples choose the same topics for these standardized
drum announcements. A m ong the Akan, for instance, births,
ordinary deaths,-and marriages are not normally publicized on
drums.* However, the use o f drums to announce some emergency
and, in particular, to call to arms seems very common indeed.
In some cases this takes a very elaborate and poetic form . Com
pare, for instance, the simple and relatively straightforward call
to fight among the T u m b a o f the Congo
Make the drum strong;
strengthen your legs,
spear, shaft and head,
and the noise of moving feet;
think not to run away*
with the literary and emotional quality typical o f the specialized
military drumming o f the Akan o f Ghana, exemplified in one o f
their drum calls:
Bodyguard as strong as iron,
Fire that devours the nations,
Curved stick o f iron,
We have leapt across the sea,
How much more the lagoon ?
I f any river is big, is it bigger than the sea?
Come Bodyguard, come Bodyguard,
Come in thick numbers,
Locusts in myriads,
When we climb a rock it gives way under our feet.
Locusts in myriads,
When we climb a rock it breaks into two.
Come Bodyguard, come Bodyguard,
In thick numbers.4

1 Carrington 1949ft. P* 88.

* Nketia 1963ft, p. 43.

R. T . Clarke, 'The Drum Language of the Tumba People, American J .
Sociology 40, 1934, p- 39>
4 Nketia 1963ft, pp. 111-12.
3

Drum Language and Literature

487

Besides messages and announcements, drum language is also

used for names. T h is is one of the most comm on forms o f drum
expression and occurs even among people who do not seem to
have other more complicated drum poetry. A m ong the Hausa, for
instance, praise names and titles o f rulers are poured forth on
drums or horns on certain public occasions,1 and the Lyele pro
verb names (sumoms-devises) are com m only performed in the
analogous whistle language;2 in both cases this amounts to special
praise and flattery o f the individuals named.
Personal drum names are usually long and elaborate. In the
Benue-Cross River area o f Nigeria, for instance, they are com
pounded o f references to a mans fathers lineage, events in his
personal life, and his own personal name.3 Sim ilarly among the
T u m b a o f the Congo, all-important m en in th e village (and some
times others as well) have drum names: these are usually made up
o f a motto emphasizing some individual characteristic, then the
ordinary spoken nam e; thus a Belgian governm ent official can be
alluded to on the drums as A stinging caterpillar is not good dis
turbed.4 Carrington describes the K e le drum names in some
detail. Each man has a drum name given him b y his father, made
u p of three parts: first the individuals ow n nam e; then a portion
o f his fathers name; and finally the name o f his mothers village.
T h u s the full name o f one man runs T h e spitting cobra whose viru
lence never abates, son o f the bad spirit w ith the spear, Yangande .
Other drum names (i.e. the individuals portion) include such com
ments as T h e proud man will never listen to advice, Owner o f the
town w ith the sheathed knife, T h e moon looks dow n at the earth /
son of the younger member o f the fam ily, and, from the nearby
M ba people, Y o u remain in the village, you are ignorant o f affairs.3
These drum names often play a significant part in the societies
in w hich they occur. T h eir use in the conveying o f messages is
quite clear the elaborateness o f the names in this context has the
directly utilitarian function o f differentiating the tonal patterns
without the possibility o f ambiguity. T h e y are also frequently
used in the context o f dances, entertainments, and festivals: they
call on those present to encourage or to praise them b y singling
1 Smith 1957. p. 29.
* Nicolas 1950, p. 87.
1 R. G. Armstrong, 'Talking Drums in the Benue-Cross River Region of
Nigeria, Phylon 15, 1954, p. 361.
4 Clarice, op. cit., p. 38.
* Carrington 1949a, PP-

4 * ff-5 1949&. PP- 87,

107.

488

Som e Special Form s

them out. A s an Idom a informant told Armstrong, when an

African hears his name drummed, he m ust jum p up for jo y even
from his side bed*.1 T h e literary and poetic quality that m ay be
associated w ith names has been discussed earlier:2 in the case o f
drum names these elements are often especially marked because
o f the very elaboration, convention, and publicity necessarily in
volved in this particular medium.2
In some areas, particularly m uch o f southern W est A frica,
drum literature takes a more highly specialized form. T h ere are
drum proverbs, panegyric, and other poetry for drums, horns, or
flutes, and sometimes state history is transmitted.
First, proverbs. T h ese are commonly performed on drums in
W est Africa, sometimes as an accompaniment to dancing. In the
N iger-Cross R iver area o f Nigeria the drum s review the philosophy
and history o f the group at a big dance: W hen a dancer or a mask
dances to the intoned proverbs and histories, he may be said to
express them w ith his body. H e does so quite consciously. Educa
tion in such matters is necessary for membership in the m en's
societies.* A m on g the Akan almost every ordinary proverb can
be reproduced on drums, and in drum poetry in general there is
frequent use o f proverbs to provide encouragement and incite
ment.2 But there are also extended proverbs specifically intended
for performance on the drums. T h u s the common Akan proverb
I f a river is big, does it surpass the sea? can be played ju st as it
is, or appear in the special drum form :
T h e path has crossed the river,
T h e river has crossed the path,
W hich is the elder?
W e made the path and found the river.
T h e river is from long ago,
From the Ancient Creator o f the Universe.6
T h e Akan have a special cycle o f proverbs associated w ith the
Akantam dance and especially constructed for performance on
drums. T h ese have a regular metrical form and are marked b y
repetition o f words, phrases, and sentences which create metrical
1 Armstrong, op. cit., pp. 360-1.
* Ch. 16.
* Among the K ele the idea that drum names are part of their oral literature
also comes out in their terminology, if Carrington is right in deriving bombila
(drum name) from the same root as that for 'story* or 'parable' (Carrington 1944,
p. 83).
* Armstrong, op. cit., p. 360.
> Nketia 1958c, p. 49.
2 Nketia 19636, p. 47.

Drum Language and Literature

489

and musical effects. In this Akantam series, each piece contains

at least tw o proverbs. It is preceded by special introductory
rhythms, and the proverbs are then beaten out in unison by all
the heavy drums while the small drums provide the musical
ground*. A s the piece proceeds, the proverbs are repeated as a
refrain, and the piece is concluded with special rhythms which
m erge into the introduction o f the next piece in the cycle.1
T h is form can be illustrated from a long example published b y
Nketia. I t consists o f about tw enty stanzas interspersed with
refrains drawn from two proverbs. I give only a short extract from
the second half:
The great Toucan,
I have bestirred myself,
Let little ones lie low.
Duiker Adawurampon Kwamena,
Who told the Duiker to get hold o f his sword?
The tail o f the Duiker is short,
But he is able to brush him self with it.
Kurotwamansa, the Leopard, lies in the thicket.
T h e thicket shakes and trembles in the dark forest.
Duiker Adawurampon Kwamena,
Who told the Duiker to get hold o f his sword?
The tad o f the Duiker is short,
But he is able to brush him self with it.
T h e antelope lies in its thicket-lair,
T h e hunter lures him with his call.
T h e hunter deserves to die.
For he will not answer him.
Duiker Adawurampon Kwamena,
Who told the Duiker to get hold o f his sword?
Ik e ta il o f the Duiker is short,
But he is able to brush him self with it.
Wild Bear, Akuampan,
How did it happen that the water buck got tied up in cords?
It is because he could not hold his tongue.
Duiker Adawurampon Kwamena,
Who told the Duiker to get hold of his sword?
The tad o f the Duiker is short,
But he is able to brush him self with it.
1 Nketia 1958c, p. 49.

490

Som e Specia l Forms

The tall forest palm tree is bent low.

The tall forest palm tree is bent low.
Whether it will fall or not,
The jealous one is mighty anxious, over-anxious, over-anxious;
The jealous one is deeply anxious, over-anxious, over-anxious.
Duiker Adawurampon Kwamena,
Who told the Duiker to get hold o f his sword?
The tail o f the Duiker is short,
But he is able to brush him self with it.1
Panegyric poetry is a genre to which public and ceremonial
performance in drum language is particularly suited, w hether the
actual medium happens to be in fact drums, gongs, or w ind instru
ments. Especially in parts o f W est Africa, praise poetry on drums
and other instruments m ay take a complex and specialized form
and is particularly common on public or state occasions. For
Southern Nigeria, for instance, Armstrong quotes the following
praise; it is taken from a performance in the royal court o f the
chief o f Igumale, and is spoken b y a flute. Throughout the poem
the chief is praised in the imagery o f a leopard:
Akpa killed those who have horses coza loga.2
The leopard in power is no toy!
The mouth of him who goes wrongly and pays a fine is what is
guilty IJ
Ogo tikpa logwu gokpaawaga h
When the land is dry (strong) they will wait for the rains!5
When the leopard is on the way, the animals fear.
When the kite calls, it is noon.6
The locusts swarm!7
Big, powerful man cum segba.
When there is a lion, there is a leopard!8
The Chief, a full-bodied leopard in the hole!
The horses, here they are!9
When the Chief did this, did that, they said it is not fitting. The
Chieftaincy is not a plaything!
1
5
*
6
7
*
9

Nketia 1958c, pp. 51-a.

1 Title of a person present.
i.e. 'keep quiet everybody!
4 Meaning unknown; a title?
i.e. A patient person*; title of someone present.
i.e. 'A precise man'; title of someone present.
i.e. the people have all come together*.
i.e. 'Here is a chief ; chiefly praise.
i.e. 'The royal people have assembled*.

491

Drum Language and Literature

When the girls have no husbands, they say they belong to the Chief I
The girl from the comer with shame in her head, let her take shame
from her head, for dancing is no plaything!1
The leopard and the Chief have claws, have claws; the leopard and
the Chief are coming today!
When the good thing is coming into public, what will the singer do
today?
He who sits on the (royal) stool, Lion of lions, Chief, it is of him that
I worry; the leopard and the Chief are no plaything
He who is fitted for the kingship, let him be king! It is God who makes
the King!*

Again, one could quote from the elaborate drum praises so

freely used among the Yoruba. T h e rulers o f the old kingdom o f
Ede, for example, are still praised on the talking drum every
month and in the course of all important festivals. These eulogies
are built up on a series o f praise verses. T h u s in the drum praise
o f Adetoyese Laoye, the eleventh ruler, w e have the building up o f
praises (mingled, as so often, with admonition) with the whole
poem bound together by both the subject (the king) and the re
current image o f the tree:
Adetoyese Akanji, mighty elephant.
One can worship you, as one worships his head.5
Son of Moware.
You enter the town like a whirlwind.
You, son of Odefunke.
Egungun* blesses quickly when you worship him.
Orisha* blesses more quickly when you worship him.
M y father Akanji is an orisha.
The more devoutly you jvorship him
The greater blessings you receive from Adetoyese Akanji.
Bless, and bless me continuously;
Akanji, and do not leave me unblessed.
Do not attempt to shake a tree trunk.
One who shakes a. tree trunk, shakes himself.
One who tries to undo you, you who are as short as death,
He will only undo himself.
A wine tapper cannot tap wine from a coconut palm.s
1 i.e. Come on, girls, get out and dance!
1 Armstrong op. cit., pp. 364-3.
5 Head here stands for the Yoruba ori which means: head, good fortune or
luck. People sacrifice to their head as thanksgiving for success, etc.
Yoruba spirits.
* They are trying to do the impossible.

492

Some Special Form

An elephant eats up the entire roots of an oro tree.

D o not behead me, I am not among them
I am not among the conspirators.
Conspirators, the hair on whose heads
Is ugly and ruffled.
A serious case may worry one but it will come to an end.
A serious case worries one, as if it will never be settled.
The case will be settled, and the slanderers and gossipers
W ill be put to shame.
You met them in front, and you greet and greet them.
You met them behind you, and you greet and greet them
Your bong courteous does not please them, like being insolent
Keep on being insolent to them and their fathers!
It is unusual for one to greet his fathers slave and prostrate.
You Adetoyese Akanji, bend one foot to greet them,
You leave the other unbent!1
You, a notorious confused You confused everybody by your ap
pearance!12 Akanji you confused all those
Who tie doth round their waists, without carrying a child3
I beg you in the name of God the great king, confuse me not!
Do not allow me to starve.
The leaves on a tree, do not allow the tree to feel the scorching sun.
You are a lucky person to wear the crown
A person who is on the throne
When the town prospers,
Is a lucky person to wear the crown.4
In a rather different style are the m any A kan panegyrics for
drums, used fo r honouring kings and chiefs both o f the past and o f
the present. T h e y recall their origin, their parentage, and their
noble deeds. T h e follow ing is an extract from one o f these praise
poems, this time on the drum:
Korobea Yirefi Anwoma Sante Kotoko,
When we are about to mention your name,
We give you a gun and a sword.
1 Trying to conciliate your opponents, show respect but not too much
because you are the oba (king).
2 During the chieftaincy dispute all the contestants were confused by the
sudden appearance o f Adetoyese Laoye.
1 Policemen. T h e reference is to the cumn\prbund on the Native Authority
Police uniform. During the contest police had to be transferred from Ede
because they were alleged to favour one of the contestants.
4 Oba Adetoyese Laoye I, The Oriku of 13 o f the Tinas o f Ede, Ede, [1965].

Drum Language and Literature

493

Y ou are the valiant man that fights with gun and sword.
I f you were to decide, you would decide for war.
You hail from Kotoko, you are truly Kataka.
Dsee Asibe, you are a man,
You are a brave man,
You have always been a man o f valour,
T h e watery shrub that thrives on stony ground,
You are the large adaiet tree,
T h e tree with buttress that stands at Dankorankwanta,
A man feared by men.1
In another Akan example the chief is saluted and ushered to his
seat b y th e drummers praise, w hile all remain standing until he
is seated:
Chief, you are about to sit down,
Sit down, great one.
Sit down, gracious one.
Chief, you have plenty o f seating space.
Like the great branch, you have spread all over this place.
L et us crouch before him with swords of state.
Ruler, the mention o f whose name causes great stir,
Chief, you are like the moon about to emerge.
Noble ruler to whom we are indebted,
You are like the moon:
**
Your appearance disperses famine.1
A m ong the Akan and the Yoruba, drum poetry also appears in
invocations to spirits o f various kinds. Longer Akan poems some
times open with stanzas calling on the spirits associated with the
drum itself the wood and its various components or invoke
certain deities or ancient and famous drummers. Important rituals
are also commonly opened or accompanied by the suitable drum
poems. T h e Awakening is one w hich must be performed before
dawn on the day o f the Akan A dae festival:
The Heavens are wide, exceedingly wide.
The Earth is wide, very very wide.
We have lifted it and taken it away.
We have lifted it and brought it back,
From time immemorial.
The God o f old bids us all
Abide by his injunctions.
' Nketia 19636, p. 45.
8161314

Kk

* Ibid., p. 147.

494

Some Special Forms

Then shall we get whatever we want,
Be it white or red.
It is God, the Creator, the Gracious one.
Good morning to you, God, Good morning.
I am learning, let me succeed.1

A final example from the A kan area will illustrate how drums
can speak of the history o f a community. T h is is from the drum
history o f the Mampon division o f Ashanti published b y Rattray
in 1923. T h is type o f poetry is performed on the public occasion
o f an A dae festival and, as Rattray points out, it has a deeply
sacred significance. T h e names o f dead kings are not to be spoken
lightly, and with the recounting o f such a history comes no small
sadness to the listener.2 T h e history consists in all o f twenty-nine
stanzas, and opens with an invocation to the spirits associated with
the drum. T h e actual historical record starts in the fourth o f the
stanzas quoted below:
(Spirit of) Earth, sorrow is yours,
(Spirit of) Earth, woe is yours,
Earth with its dust,
(Spirit of) the Sky,
Who stretches to Kwawu,5
Earth, if I am about to die,
It is upon you that I depend.
Earth, while I am yet alive,
It is upon you that I put my trust.
Earth who received my body,
T h e divine drummer4 announces that,
Had he gone elsewhere (in sleep),
He has made himself to arise.
(As) the fowl crowed in the early dawn,
(As) the fowl uprose and crowed,
Very early, very early, very early.
We are addressing you,
And you will understand.
W e are addressing you,
And you will understand . . .
* Nketja 19636, p. 44.
1 R. S. Rattray, Ashanti, Oxford, 19*3, p. 264.
1 A locality on die Gold Coast.
4 The drummer of the talking drums, a powerful figure, is commonly referred
to as the divine drummer or Creators drummer (Nketia 19636, p. 154).

Drum Language and L iterature

495

(Spirit of) the fibre, Ampasakyi,

Where art thou?
The divine drummer announces that,
Had he gone elsewhere (in sleep),
He has made himself to arise,
He has made himself to arise;
(As) the fowl crowed in the early dawn,
(As) the fowl uprose, and crowed,
Very early, very early, very early.
We are addressing you,
And you will understand;
We are addressing you,
And you will understand.
Oh Pegs, (made from) the stump of the Ofema tree,
(Whose tide is) Gyaanadu Asare,
Where is it that you are ?
The divine drummer announces that,
Had he gone elsewhere (in sleep),
He has made himself to arise,
He has made himself to arise.
(As) the fowl crowed in the early dawn,
(As) the fowl uprose and crowed,
Very early, very early, very early.
We are addressing you,
And you will understand;
We are addressing you,
And you will understand . . .
(Spirit of) Asiama Toku Asare1
Opontenten Asi Akatabaa,*
Asiama (who came from) the God of the Sky,
Asiama o f the Supreme Being,
T h e divine drummer declares that,
Had he gone elsewhere (in sleep),
He has made himself to arise,
He has made himself to arise.
(As) the fowl crowed in the early dawn.
(As) the fowl uprose and crowed,
Very early,
Very early,
* The first Queen Mother of the Beretuo don, said to hove descended from
the sky. She was head of the clan before they migrated to Mampon.
* Strong names (titles).

496

Som e Special Forms

Very early,
We are addressing you,
And you will understand.
[Oh] Boafo Anwoma Kwakyie,
Kwakyi, the tall one,
Kwakyi Adu Asare,
Whence earnest thou?
Thou earnest from Mampon-Kontonkyi, the place where the rock
wears down the axe.
Mampon Kontonkyi Aniampam Boafo Anwoma Kwakyi,
Konl
Who destroys towns, Firampon,
Alas I
Alas I
A la s !. . .
[Oh] Adu Boahen,
Boahen Kojo,
Whence was it that thou earnest?
Thou earnest from Mampon Akurofonso,
The place where the Creator made things.
Adu Gyamfi with an eye like flint, (whose title is) Ampafrako.
T h e Shadows were falling cool,
They fell cool for me at Sekyire1
The day dawned,
It dawned for me at Sekyire,
Who is Chief of Sekyire?
The Chief of Sekyire is Kwaitu,
Kwaaye knows Afrane Akwa,
Boatimpon Akuamoa,
Akuamoa,1 whom we even grow weary of thanking, for his gifts,
Akuamoa, you were of the royal blood since long, long ago,
Thou earnest from Mampon Kontonkyi, where the rock wears away
the axe.
Konl
Akuamoa Firampon,
Alas!
Alas!1
1 The name of the wider region which includes Mampon.
1 The sixth ruler o f the Beretuo clan.
1 Rattray, op. cit., pp. 278-82, stanzas II, IV, V , V III, IX , X II, X III. He
reproduces the poem in drum language, in ordinary Ashanti, and in English
translation.

Drum Language and Literature

497

in
D rum language, it is clear, is a medium that can be put to a
w ide range o f uses. Its appearance in messages, in names, in poetry,
and in the performance o f proverbs has been illustrated. It can
also be em ployed to comment on or add to some current activity.
Arm strong, for example, describes the actions o f a chief drummer
at a dance in the Benue-Cross R iver area, in words that could be
applied elsewhere too: he
maintains a running commentary on the dance, controls the line dancers
with great precision, calls particular persons by name to dance solo,
tells them what dance to do, corrects them as they do it, and sends
them back into line with comment on the performance. He does this
by making his drum talk, even above the sound of four or five other
drums in the orchestra.*
In this example, the speaking and comment of the drum form
a linguistic complement, as it were, to the musical and balletic
aspects o f the artistic event as a whole. Among the K ele, the
talking drum accompanies wrestling matches, saluting contestants
as they enter the ring, uttering comment and encouragement
throughout the fight, and ending up with praise for the victor.2
Similar literary contributions are made b y the drums among the
Akan even to the otherwise mundane duty o f carrying the chief.
It is raised to a state ceremonial b y the conventions surrounding
it a n d 'b y the drum poetry that accompanies and comments on it:
the drum s say 'I carry father: I carry father, he is too heavy for
m e, to w hich the bass drum replies, in conventional form , C ant
cut bits off him to make him lighter .3 In funerals too, Akan drums
play their part, echoing the themes o f dirges and heralding the
occasion w ith messages o f condolence and farewell.4 Such com
ment b y drums can take so elaborate a form as to be classed as
full drum poetry in its own right. In this case it covers the sorts
o f drum proverbs, panegyrics, and histories already quoted, form
ing a specialized type o f poetry apparently most characteristic o f
certain traditional states o f W est A frica.
Expression b y drums or other instruments can also be an alter
native m edium to the human voice through which ordinary poetry
1 Armstrong, op. cit., p. 360.

* Nketia 19636, p. 135.

Carrington 19490. pp. 63-4.

4 Ibid., p. 64.

498

Som e Special Forms

can be represented. T h u s among the Yoruba each o f their many

types o f poetry can be recited on the drum as well as spoken, and
the oriki (praise) poems are as frequently drummed as sung.1
W ith the Akan some poems can be drummed or sung, others are
designed specifically for voice, drums, or horns respectively.2
M any different kinds o f communications, then, can be conveyed
through the medium o f drum language messages, public an
nouncements, comment, and m any types of poetry and the same
sorts o f functions can be fulfilled as by the corresponding speech
forms, with the additional attributes o f the greater publicity and
impressiveness of the drum performance. In spite o f its wide range
o f uses, however, drum communication is in certain respects a
somewhat limited medium. T h ere are limitations, that is, on the
types o f communications that can be transmitted; the stereotyped
phrases for use in drum languages do not cover every sphere of
life, but only the content conventionally expected to be com
municated through drum s.3 Furthermore, in certain societies at
least (for example, the Y oruba and the Akan), drum m ing is a highly
specialized activity, w ith a period o f apprenticeship and exclusive
membership, so that to a greater extent than in most forms of
spoken art, drum literature is a relatively esoteric and specialized
form o f expression, understood by many (at least in its simpler
forms) but probably only fully mastered and appreciated by the
few.4 In the case of some peoples the response to such limitations
has been the creation o f a highly elaborate and conventional mode
o f artistic expression through drums with the apparent corollary
that in this very specialized and difficult medium the scope for
individual variation and improvization seems to be correspondingly
limited and the stress laid on technical mastery rather than on
verbal originality.*
1 Lasebikan in Osadebay 1949, p. 154; Gbadamosi and Beier 1959, p. 9.
1 Nketia in Osadebay 1949, p. 156.
1 Or so it seems. With die exception of some remarks in Rattray, op. cit.,
>923, PP- 256-7, the sources do not discuss this point directly.
4 Not much has been written about the distribution of this skill among the
population generally and further study of this question is desirable. Its prevalence
in the contemporary scene also demands research; clearly it is at times highly
relevant as, for instance, in the use of drum language over the radio during the
Nigerian civil war to convey a message to certain listeners, and conceal it from
others.
5 Again, further evidence on this point would be welcome. O f the Akan
Nketia makes the point that all drum texts are traditional (apart from the
nonsense syllables sometimes included in them which may be invented) and

Drum Language and Literature

499

In conclusion it must be stressed again that what is transmitted

in drum language is a direet representation o f the words themselves.
This is worth repeating, because for someone unacquainted with
this medium it is not easy to grasp that the drums actually speak
words, that from the point of view both o f the analyst and o f the
people involved, the basis is a directly linguistic one. From this it
follows that the content and style o f drum communication can
often be assessed as literature, and not primarily as music, signal
codes, or incidental accompaniment to dancing or ceremonies.
Some o f the items o f drum language that have been mentioned
the proverb-like phrases o f K ele drum language, for instance,
or the whistled names in the U pper Volta are only m arginally
literary. Other forms, however, in particular the drum poems o f
southern Ghana, Nigeria, and D ahom ey, unmistakably fall into
the category o f highly developed oral literature. But whatever the
assessment o f individual examples it is clear that it is both correct
and illuminating to analyse drum language in terms o f its literary
significance. A m ong the people who practise it, drum literature is
clearly a part, albeit through a highly specialized and unusual
medium, of their whole oral literature.1
that many are known in the same form to drummers in widely separated areas
(19636, p. 48).
1 There is a huge (and very variable) literature on drum language which it is
impossible to begin to cover here. Useful bibliographies are to be found in
Carrington 19496, and T . Stem, Drum and Whistle Languages : an Analysis
of Speech Surrogates , Am. Antkrop. 59, 1957. C f. also, among many other
accounts: Witte 1910 (Ewe); J. Jacobs 1959; Schneider 1952 (Duala); E. Van
Avermaet, *Les tons en kiLuba Samba et le tambour-t6l6phone, Aequatoria 1,
1945; R. G . Armstrong, Talking Instruments in West Africa, Explorations
4, *9555 G . Hulstaert, De telcfoon der Nkundo, Anthropos 30, 1935; H.
Labourer, 'Langage tambouring et sifflg, Bull. Commit. A O F 6,1923; G . Herzog,
Drum Signalling in a West African Tribe, Word 1, 1945 (reprinted in Hymes
1964).

18

DRAMA
Introductory. Some minor examples: Bushman 'plays ;
West African puppet shows. Mande comedies. West African
masquerades: South-Eastern Nigeria; Kalahari. Conclusion
I
H o w far one can speak o f indigenous drama in A frica is not an
easy question. In this it differs from previous topics like, say,
panegyric, political poetry, or prose narratives, for there it was
easy to discover A frican analogies to the familiar European forms.
T h o u gh some writers have very positively affirmed the existence
o f native African drama,1 it would perhaps be truer to say that
in A frica, in contrast to W estern Europe and Asia, drama is not
typically a wide-spread or a developed form.
There are, however, certain dramatic and quaSi-dramatic pheno
mena to be found, particularly in parts o f W est Africa. M any are
o f great interest in themselves, particularly, perhaps, the celebrated
masquerades o f Southern Nigeria. Furthermore, some discussion
o f such elements o f drama helps to throw light on oral literature
in general in Africa.
T h ere are other reasons w hy some discussion o f drama in
A frica is essential. T h e subject is in many minds inextricably
linked to the question o f the origin o f drama and to the interpreta
tions o f a particular critical school. T h e existence and supposed
nature o f drama, mimetic dances, or masquerades in Africa have
been taken as evidence in discussions o f the origin o f drama. W hile
m any would now reject the assumptions (often inspired by The
Golden Bough) w hich are inherent in the evolutionist approach,
works built on such assumptions still circulate w idely and provoke
an interest in th e question o f what sort o f drama can be found in
A frica.2 It is, in fact, natural that students o f the nature and history
1 e.g. T taorf 1958, Delafosse 1916.
* e.g. F. M . Coxnford, The Origin o f A ttic Oomedy, and A . H. Krappe, The
Science o f Folklore, which both adopt this line, have each appeared in new
paperback editions in the 1960s.

Dram a

501

o f European drama should be interested in comparative evidence

o f analogous forms in Africa. In addition, interpretations o f litera
ture in term s o f m yth and archetype might at first sight be ex
pected to draw particular support from a knowledge o f African
dramatic forms.
It is clearly necessary to reach at least some rough agreement
about w hat is to count as drama. Rather than produce a verbal
definition, it seems better to point to the various elements which
tend to com e together in w hat, in the wide sense, w e normally
regard as drama. M ost important is the idea o f enactment, o f
representation through actors w ho imitate persons and events.
T h is is also usually associated w ith other elements,, appearing to
a greater or lesser degree at different times or places: linguistic
content; plot; the represented interaction of several characters;
specialized scenery, etc.; often m usic; and of particular impor
tance in m ost African performances dance.
N ow it is very seldom in A frica that all these elements o f drama
come together in a single performance. One or several do o f course
occur frequently. But w hich, i f any, o f such performances are
counted as fu lly drama w ill depend on which o f the various
elements mentioned above are considered as most significant (a
point, o f course, that applies to m ore than just A frican dramatic
performances). W hat is clear is that while dramatic elements enter
into several different categories o f artistic activity in A frica and are
thus w orth consideration here, there are few or no performances
w hich obviously and imm ediately include all these dramatic
elements.1
In order to bring out the respective significance o f these various
elements w e will look first at some minor forms. T h is will be
followed b y a discussion o f the m ore obviously dramatic form s o f
W est A frica the comedies o f the Mande-speaking area and the
complicated masquerades o f South-Eastern Nigeria. '1
11
T h e emphasis on histrionic ability in story-telling has already
been m entioned.2 Stories are often enacted in the sense that, to
a greater or smaller degree, the speech and gestures o f their charac1 The plays o f certain o f the Mande-speaking peoples o f West Africa,
discussed later, are one possible exception.
* Ch. 13.

5oa

Som e Special Forms

ters are imitated by the narrator, and the action is largely exhibited
through dialogue in w hich the story-teller directly portrays various
characters in turn. It is true that such enactment o f character is
not sustained or complete, that straight narration, as well as
dramatic dialogue, is used to communicate the events o f the story,
and that only one real actor could be said to be involved; thus
story-telling can only be spoken o f as possessing certain dramatic
characteristics, rather than being drama in the full sense. Never
theless, these dramatic aspects are o f the greatest importance in
the telling o f stories. It has been said o f written literature that
drama, unlike prose narrative, is not self-contained but depends
on other additional elements for its full effect. Precisely the same
point could be made o f oral narration. As Delafosse writes of
certain story-tellers in the Ivory Coast: Jai entendu des griots
raconter des histoires au cours desquelles ils faisaient parler leurs
heros et qui devenaient dans leur bouche de v& itables scenes de
theatre k personnages multiples represent^ par un acteur
unique.1
T h is similarity to dramatic performance is heightened by the
frequent occurrence o f m usic and sometimes even rudimentary
dance movements. It is comm on for the story-teller to begin a song
in the course of the narration often a song sung by, or represent
ing the actions of, one o f the characters and for this to be taken
up antiphonally by the audience acting as chorus, in this way
partaking in the dramatic enactment o f the story. Occasionally too
the story-teller stands and moves among the audience. I f most
African peoples lack specialized drama, they yet, b y the very oral
nature o f their art, lay greater stress on certain dramatic charac
teristics o f their literature than do cultures which rely primarily on
written forms.
A very different side o f dramatic art is exhibited b y the 'fKhom ani
Bushman plays described b y D oke.1 Here the linguistic element is
apparently non-existent, but the action is portrayed completely
through the imitation o f several actors. A m ong the southern
Bushmen in particular, there is also some attempt to make them
selves up to resemble the animals represented by using paint, or
1 Delafosse 1916, p. 355.
1 C. M. Doke, Gomes, Plays and Dances of the ^Khomani Bushmen, Bantu
Studies 10, 1936; cf. also I. Schapera (ed.), The Kkoisan Peoples o f Africa,
London, 1930, pp. 303 ff.

Drama

S 3

the skins or horns of animals. T h ese dramas o f the desert 1

represent the different stages in hunting. Doke describes ten o f
these plays, and considers that since they depend on imitation and
mimicry they have to be considered as drama. In the springbok
and lion play, for instance, the various animals are portrayed: the
girls take the part of the springboks, with the little children as
kids, while two or three men act the lions. First the kids, then the
springboks are shown as being stalked b y the lions with a vividness
that makes it into a very exciting drama.2 T h e gemsbok play
Doke regards as probably the Bushman masterpiece o f dramatic
representation .3 In it, one man acts the part o f the gemsbok,
with a forked stick tied or held to his forehead to represent
the horns, and imitates its actions and gait. He is pursued
by three or four armed huntsmen and b y boys acting as dogs
who look out the spoor. T h e gemsbok is chased, then finally
turns at bay. A fter an exciting fight the play is ended b y the
death and dispatch of the gemsbok by the hunters and their dogs.
It is possible that similar m im icry and dramatization, particu
larly o f hunting, occur elsewhere in Africa. However, I know o f
no descriptions o f such plays (or dramatic performances o f an y
other kind) from Bantu Africa as a whole, with perhaps the excep
tion of a certain dramatization sometimes found in rituals like
initiation and funeral rites.4 For our other examples o f dramatic
or quasi-dramatic phenomena w e must turn to W est A frica, w here
we can find more elaborate forms ranging from mere puppet shows
to the plays o f the Mande-speaking peoples o f the savannah areas
and the masquerades mainly typical o f the forest region. T h ese
can be discussed in turn.
Th ere are several passing references to puppets in W est A frica,
though, it seems, few detailed descriptions o f their performances.
T h e y have been recorded as appearing, in various form s, in the
north o f the Ivory Coast, in Bornu, Zaria, Bida, and other places
in Northern Nigeria and Niger, and occasionally in Southern

1 Doke, op. cit., p. 465.

466.

* Ibid., p. 467.
2 Ibid., p.
4 Cf. especially installation rites and annual ceremonies to do with kingship,
such as those described, for instance, by H. Kuper for the Swazi (A n African
Aristocracy, London,
ch.
T he Drama o f Kingship*). But the whole
subject o f the aspect of dramatization and symbolism in ritual (and the various
interpretations o f this) is too large to enter on here and is not, in any case,
directly relevant to a treatment of literature.

1947,

13,

504

Som e Special Forms

N igeria.1 It is uncertain how long a history they have in these

areas.2
O ne detailed description has been given b y Ellison o f a puppet
show in Bornu.* H ere the puppets consist o f rag dolls which fit
over the manipulators hand rather like gloves and are shown
through the opening in a kind o f tent made b y draping a large gown
over a stick planted in the ground. T h e manipulator speaks for the
puppets in a special voice produced by half swallowing pieces o f
ostrich egg-shell; the shrill whistle that results is barely intelligible
and the words are therefore repeated by an assistant standing by.
In the performance that Ellison witnessed there were eight short
scenes, each lasting three to four minutes and complete in itself.
O n ly tw o puppets could appear at a time, but there were about six
in all, and during th e intervals while they w ere being changed
inside the tent, the audience were entertained b y drummers and
singers. T h e scenes portrayed involved a clear plot, speech, suit
able costumes for the parts enacted, and dramatic and exaggerated
action. One scene, for example, showed a th ief entering a man's
house and on the point o f making off w ith his booty when the
owners wife wakes and gives the alarm; the husband appears and
dramatically gives th e th ief a sound beating. Another included
a co y Shuw a Arab girl dressed in a long flowing gown with cowries
in her hair who sings and dances, and thus captivates a married
m an; he, inevitably, is caught b y his wife and is scolded and
beaten; and the scene ends w ith a realistic fight between the hus
band and a bystander w ho has come to see w hat is happening. A
final example is about a rest-house keeper. H e is told b y the village
head that the D istrict Officer is coming a very particular and
fussy D .O ., w e are inform ed and that the rest-house must be very
w ell swept, and wood and water all provided w ith the greatest care.
T h e D .O . arrives dressed all in white, complete w ith white pith
helmet, and is shown being greeted with exaggerated respect b y
the village head. B ut, the story continues, the rest-house turns out
to be not exactly spotless and the scene ends w ith its keeper being
severely reproved.
1 Delofosse 1916, p. 35s; R . E. Ellison, A Bornu Puppet Show*, Nigerian
Field 4 , 193s; Labouret and Trav 16 1928; K . C . Murray, Dances and Plays*,
Nigeria 19,1939, p. 318; R . Pageard, Travestis et marionnettes de la region de
Sgou\ Notes qfr. 93, 1962.
1 Puppet shows in Bornu are said to have begun in the mid-nineteenth
century according to Ellison, op. cit., p. 91.
1 Ellison, op. cit.

Dram a

505

A re such shows to be called drama ? Certainly they include most

o f the dramatic elements w e have already mentioned: the enact
ment o f character and events; several actors, albeit in puppet rather
than human form ; plot; linguistic content; specialized costume;
and a limited amount o f singing and dancing as well as interval
music. In a way it seems unsuitable to call this form drama; and
it is worth noting that even in Bornu it seems to have been rela
tively rarely practised and not regarded as a serious form o f art.
Still, it must be accepted that the plots and attitudes involved
are very similar to some o f those in the Mande plays' described
later, and that even puppet shows can be used to comment comically
and dramatically on the events and characters o f everyday life.
in
O f m uch greater interest are the comedies o f certain M ande
speaking peoples in the savannah areas of ex-French W est Africa.
These, perhaps alone among A frican enactments, would seem fully
to satisfy most o f the normal criteria for a truly dramatic play.
T h ey have clear plot and linguistic content, as w ell as music,
dancing, costume, definite audience, and the interaction o f several
human actors appearing at once in the village square that acts as
a stage. T h e y are described as vdritables pieces parfaitement
ordonnles et rlgiees, destinies exposer une intrigue dlterm inle,
en employant pour interpreter celle-ci des acteurs humains. O n
peut done affirmer, dans ces conditions, quil existe bien un
th l tre soudanais.'1
O ne group o f these plays those o f the Mandingo were de
scribed in some detail by Labouret and T ravlie in 1928. T h e y are
all comic, intended for entertainment and the realistic portrayal
o f the characters and faults o f everyday life. A s implied b y die
M andingo term kote koma nyaga, the plays treat especially o f
marriage and the various m isfortunes o f married life, but also
involve satirical comment on m any other aspects o f life. T h e
authors are also actors.
T h ese comedies are said to have been performed every year in
the Bamako and Bougouni cercles o f w hat was then French Soudan,
in the region o f the old M ali kingdom. T h e normal occasion is after
the harvest, between October and March. In the evening the

1 Labouret and T rav 616 1928, p. 74.

506

Som e S p ecia l Forms

audience is called to the open village square where, with no

scenery or special building, the comedies are presented in the open
air, lit either by the moon or b y lanterns and candles. Each even
ings entertainment follows a fixed order w hich Labouret and
Travl term respectively the opening ballet (kote don), the pro
logue, the presentation o f the players, and, finally, the plays
proper.
T h e proceedings begin w ith the announcement o f the kote koma
nyaga at about eight in the evening; people hurry to the square
and sit ready, with the children running around among the specta
tors. T h e drum orchestra enters and takes its place in the centre,
and the young men and wom en start to dance in a slow, circular
movement. T h is makes up the opening ballet. T h en the orchestra
withdraws to the edge o f the square and the choir o f women and
girls group themselves around it ready to take up the actors'
singing. Meanwhile the actors (almost always men) are preparing
in a nearby house, dressing and making up b y covering the face
and body with clay or ash to create a fantastic or ridiculous ap
pearance. T h ey dress themselves for comic effect, w ith to m clothes
and the various implements w hich they need for their roles.
W hen the actors are ready, this is made known and the audience
fall silent. A t first only a cry is heard from an invisible actor calling
on the audience in set phrases which are answered, line for line,
b y the chorus. Then the actor makes a hesitating entry. H e pre
sents a strange appearance, partly naked, his body covered with
white ash, a short torn cloak on his shoulders, an old turban on his
head, and rags hanging down his back. T h e orchestra persuade
him to call the others, so he runs to the entrance and calls his
comrades in an exaggerated and burlesque way, m im ing his im
patience, listening for them , and running round the different en
trances. A t last the other actors enter. Each is dressed according
to his role: one is an infirm old man, another is blind, lame, or
a leper; other stock characters include an idiot, an unskilful hunter,
a brigand, an adulterer, a deceived husband, a thief, and a sorcerer.
T h e y go right round the square, singing and dancing, and then
retire, marking the end o f the prologue and presentation.
T h ese introductory sections are followed b y the comedies them
selves o f which several are performed one after the other. These
include titles like T h e boastful coward, T h e adulterous wife,
T h e deceived hunter, T h e sorcerer with large ears, and Thieves

Drama

507

o f yams. T h e play entitled T h e kola seller and the flirtatious

wife, one o f seven described b y Labouret and Travele, can illus
trate the type o f plot and action involved. T h e dramatis personae
are: the seller o f kola nuts; Fatimata, a coquettish woman (played
b y a young m an); Fatimatas husband; the chorus; and th e
orchestra.
Fatimata enters and sits in the centre, simpering, with a mirror
on her knees; she is wearing an exaggerated dress with huge pearls
in her hair and colossal bracelets. T h e kola seller comes in hesitat
ingly with his basket of kolas and asks the orchestra if this is a
good place for selling kola nuts. W hen the musicians reply that
it is, and, furthermore, that there is a pretty woman there too, the
kola seller protests that he is not concerned with women, and
dances in the square calling out 'kolas for sale . As he dances, he
catches sight o f Fatimata (still making herself up). He goes up to
her, calling out persuasively about his kolas. W hen asked the
price, he offers her a few kolas free, and steals up to her to present
them. T h e scene is repeated several times and results in his
discovery that he has given all his merchandise away! T h e kola
seller bemoans his fate exaggeratedly: all is finished, Fatim ata has
deceived him. She replies self-righteously: the kola seller for his
part, she says, has been interfering w ith the end o f her loin cloth.
A t first indignant at this charge, he finally decides he m ight as w ell
be hung for a sheep as a lamb, and tries to pull her cloth right off.
U p to now Fatimata has been all complaisance. But the kolas,
finished she now turns defensive and there is a violent tussle
between her and the kola seller, w ith great leaps and vivid repre
sentation, prolonged or contracted according to the skill o f the
actors. Attracted b y the noise, Fatim atas husband now makes an
imposing entry. W hen he hears Fatimatas version o f the story
he attacks and beats the kola seller, and the play ends w ith him
chasing his rival from the stage w ith Fatimata, all innocent, b y
his side.
A similar com edy was reported b y Delafosse in 1916 from the
Bambara1 who use the same term, kote koma nyaga, to refer to their
plays. Agaiti the characters are a w ife (acted by a man), her hus
band, and her lover. T h e action takes place in the village square,
surrounded b y spectators, and with an orchestra and choir to take
up and echo the actors songs.
1 Also Mancie-speaking.

So

Som e Special Form s

T h e m anand his w ife enter and ask permission from the village
elders (the orchestra) to set up house. T h en , while the husband is
occupied in building their hut, his w ife catches sight o f the third
actor, her w ould-be lover. For the tim e being they have no oppor
tunity to be together. B ut time passes and at last the husbands
crops are planted and ready for harvest (the whole process being
vividly mimed b y th e actor). W hen they have harvested the crop
the wife offers to go and pick off the seeds an excuse, o f course,
to be w ith her lover in the fields. B ut it is not long before her
suspicious husband follows them. She sees him first as she thinks
and hastily buries her lover under a pile o f stalks. T h e husband
pretends he has seen nothing and sits down. T h en follows a con
versation, w ith the husband on his side pretending ignorance,'the
wife more and m ore alarmed as detection seems to approach
nearer:
Husband. Have you finished picking off the seeds?
W ife.
Yes. Here they are in my basket.
Husband. Well, you carry the seeds, Ill take the ashes.
W ife.
( Taken aback) What ashes?
Husband. Im going to bum the stalks.
W ife.
(More and more alarmed) You can bum them tomorrow.
Lets go home now..
Husband. No, Im in no hurry, Im going to bum them now.
W ife.
( Very alarmed) Dont you see the storm coming ?
Husband. (S titt pretending not to notice anything) Yes I see. I f it
rains Ill cover the ashes with my coat.
W ife.
T h e wind m il blow it all away before you can collect it up.
Husband, (Decidedly) Im not going until I have burned that straw.
H e sets fire to the pile while his w ife dances round it singing. A t
this the lover pushes his w ay out and takes to his heels, while the
husband rushes after him shouting C atch the rat thats escaped
from m y pile o f stalks (repeated several, times). T h e three actors
disappear and th e audience bursts into laughter.1
From these tw o examples o f M ande comedies, it can be seen that
both plot and characterization are simple and depend for their
effect very largely on th e actors art: w e are told that they display
great talent, based on keen observation and the exact imitation
o f gesture, voice, and intonation.2 T h e characters are conventional
types. M ost popular o f all is the deceiving wife, represented (as
1 Delafoase <916, pp. 352-4.
2 Labourer and Trav6l6 1928, p. 92.

Drama

509

in stories from the same locality) as a flirtatious and capricious

liar, w ith both her actions and her husband's jealousy satirically
and comically portrayed. Sim ilar stock characters also appear in
M andingo plays: the leper, ridiculed for his lack o f fingers and
consequent awkwardness, the thief, the coward, the boaster, and
the sorcerer represented as an old woman, ugly and infirm, with
huge ears and a frightening appearance.1
T h ese plays can be counted as comedies, satires on the foibles
and ridiculous aspects o f everyday life, particularly marriage. In
this sense they can be called drama even though it is drama en
livened b y music, dance, and m im e as well as spoken conversatibn.
H owever, such comedies, it appears, have only a limited distribu
tion basically among certain Mande-speaking peoples o f M ali,
Soudan, and the Ivory Coast.2 Even within W est A frica they are
not wide-spread and on present evidence at least they provide
the exception rather than the rule for full dramatic performances
in A frica.3
IV

T h e final class o f dramatic phenomena to consider are the

masquerades o f W est A frica. T h ese are wide-spread in this part o f
Africa* and take many different forms, but seem to be especially
developed in the southern (forest) areas where the carving o f
wooden masks has reached such a high degree o f artistic develop
m ent. T h e masquerades dances o f masked figures o f various
kinds probably vary throughout the region in content, purpbse,
and pattern, but they all seem to include certain elements o f drama
and are often referred .to as 'plays. There is generally the idea o f
som e kind o f enactment o r representation b y the masked figure
w ith great emphasis on costum e (especially masks) and on music
and dancing. O n the other hand, there seems to be little or no
linguistic content, though there .is sometimes a rudimentary plot.
1 Ivory Coast animat ballets are even more burlesque and include more
downing and miming and less linguistic content (Prouteaux 1929).
* T h e plots and tone o f some of the Northern Nigerian puppet shows have
something in common with these ploys and possibly indicate a wider incidence
than as yet appears.
* On these comedies see also Meillassoux 1964. For the way in which some
modem skits in Mali owe much to traditional dramatic forms see N . S. Hopkins,
The Modem Theater in Mali , Presence aft. S3, 1965.
4 Including, to some extent, the Monde area.
stsista
l !

510

Som e S p ecia l Forms

Rather than trying to describe all variations, I w ill speak of

masquerades in South-Eastern Nigeria. It is in the forest (or
once forest) regions o f this area among the Ibo, Ijaw , and Ibibio
peoples that, in the w ords o f G . I. Jones, Nigerian masked plays
reach their greatest development.1
E ven in this fairly circumscribed region there are variants
enough. But it is clear from Joness article ('M asked plays o f
South-eastern Nigeria),2 that they all share certain common
features. There is always some religious element, a belief, for
instance, that the masked figures are in some sense supernatural,
or closely associated w ith supernatural beings. T h ere is the dis
ciplinary element expressed in the awe in which the masked dances
are held b y women and the uninitiated: the men w ho produce the
play are initiates of a secret society whose mysteries and rules they
are bound to keep. Finally, there is always an element o f pageantry
and display; however secret the society there is always an occasion
when die community is inspired by the spectacle o f the super
natural beings parading round in public, resplendent in all the
finery the society can provide.1
In different areas one or another o f these aspects is to the fore.
T h u s in the Cross River region, where secret societies have such
central importance, the element o f display and pageantry is re
latively undeveloped and the local spirit plays stress the macabre
and supernatural 'to a degree unequalled in any o f the other
masked plays.3 Among the Ibo, by contrast, with their democratic
and independent traditions, the religious and disciplinary aspects
have relatively little significance. There are many Ibo, Ibibio, and
Ijaw groups, furthermore, who choose to use these masked plays
primarily as vehicles for their artistic talent. Here the play itself
is the important thing; the supernatural element, particularly the
feeling o f fear, recedes and comedy and a sense o f fun takes its
place.4 There is much display o f fine costumes, masks, drumming,
dancing, and singing. A ctin g too has a place:
Usually this acting is limited to each mask playing its own particular
1 G . I. Jones 1945, p. 191.
* Op. cit. I draw very heavily on this article here; also on J. S. Boston, 'Some
Northern Ibo Masquerades , J R A I 90, i960, and Horton 1963. See also
Messenger 1962; Horton 1966 and 19 6 7;K . C . Murray, Ayolugba, Nigerian
Field 12, 1947; G. I. Jones Okorosia (by Daji), Nigerian Field 3, 1934.
3 G. I. Jones, 194s, P- 1964 Ibid., p. 192. Cf. also Messenger 1962.

Drama

511

role without regard to the other characters, but in a few plays the masks
act together in a complete drama. In one Ogoni play, for instance, all
the masks appear as a group of decrepit old men and hold a meeting
guying the local village elders. In another play the mask called Doctor,
after boasting greatly of the potency of his medicines, tries them out on
the mask called Rain Maker and poisons him; in terror he appeals to
Kamalu, the god of the rain, and after much comic byplay and bargaining
as to the value of the sacrifice he must make to Kamalu, he succeeds in
bringing Rain Maker to life again.1
Important varieties o f masked plays in South-Eastern Nigeria are
the Ibo and Ibibio ghost plays. T h ese are enacted b y dancers wear
ing true masks (i.e. right over their faces) and often elaborate
costumes. T h e Northern Ibo ghost play (Mau), for instance, often
includes a great variety o f characters wearing masks or carved
heads (or both). These masks have conventional meanings. Som e
are represented as masculine, some as feminine; some are fierce,
some comic, some (mostly the feminine ones) beautiful. It is the
beautiful masks, portrayed according to Ibo ideas o f stylized
beauty and feminine character (but in fact worn b y men), who do
most o f the actual dancing; first the daughter masks appear and
dance, then the mothers, and finally the grandmother mask
performs her solo dance. T h e com ic masks amuse by clowning,
whereas the fierce ones are meant to frighten. Som e are so fierce
(especially those combining the features o f lion, elephant, and
buffalo) that they must be kept on a leash by their attendants;
others are used to keep the crowd back from the dancers, and
threaten them w ith whips. M im ing and sometimes parody seem
to be highly developed in these plays. In one instance given b y
Jones:
When the play has just begun a white-faced mask with a cavalry
moustache, wearing white ducks and a spotless sun-helmet, stalks into
the arena and casts a supercilious eye over the scene. The play stops,
the mask languidly signals them to proceed and strolls over to sit
amongst the audience in the seat of honour. This character is Oyibo
the White Man.1
T h e importance o f miming and even satire is brought out b y
another w riter on Ibo masquerades.3 In northern Iboland it is
* G . I. Jones 1945, pp. i 9*~3-

* Ibid., p. 193.

* Boston, op. cit.

512

Som e Special Forms

apparently the dramatic dem ent that has been devdoped at the
expense o f the religious. B u t even here the element o f plot is
very undeveloped indeed compared to the emphasis on music and
dancing. Boston expresses dearly the Ibo order o f priorities when
he writes:
Each type of masquerade has a characteristic rhythm, which is pro
duced by a subtle and intricate combination o f voices, instruments, and
stylized movement, and this rhythm supplies a compulsive force to the
performance, as the plot does in European drama. It also creates a
dramatic link between the various elements of the masquerade, which
are often scattered in different parts of the village.1
T h o u gh there are several other types o f Ib o and Ibibio ghost
plays besides those mentioned, all seem to share the characteristic
o f less emphasis on plot than on miming, music, and dancing.
T h e third main variety o f masquerade in South-Eastern Nigeria
comprises the Ijaw water-spirit plays. T h e plays o f one group o f
Ijaw peoples (the K alahari) have been discussed b y Horton and the
outline o f his account is followed dosely.2 In these plays too there
is an emphasis on m usic, dance, and costume at d ie expense o f
linguistic content.
T h e plays are staged b y the Kalahari E kine Sodety. T h is is a
religious and artistic association for men, separately organized
in each Kalahari com m unity. Each such so d ety stages a cy d e
o f thirty to fifty masquerade plays. T h e so d ety is divided into
grades through w hich members can progress according to their
skill and on payment o f a small fee. Each so d ety has its own head
m an and certain other officials and its own rules o f behaviour; one
o f the strictest o f these is the idea o f concealment o f certain
activities from women. T h e plays themselves are connected with
w ater spirits; and in th e m yths about their origin w e are told how
a woman was once abducted b y the water spirits and was shown
their special plays before she returned home; th ey w ere then taken
over b y the men as an art or recreation, b u t their religious signi
ficance w as still remembered.
In these masquerades there are comments and accompanying
songs. T h e subject-matter covers a diversity o f social experience;
though it is ostensibly concerned w ith the activities o f water
1 Boston, op. cit., p. 55.
1 Horton 1963; cf. also 1966 and 1967. There is not, unfortunately, space to
,do justice to the subtlety o f his discussion.

Drama

5x3

spirits, in fact it clearly reflects the everyday life o f Kalahari town

and village, portrayed in a realistic manner:
Perhaps the commonest theme is that of the ferocious male warrior,
laying about him with matchet or spear, his violence set off by the
plump, comely, slow-moving figure o f his wife. This pair is portrayed
by some o f the most widely distributed masquerades such re Agiri,
Egbekgebe, Egbekoro, and Seki. Then there is the dignified, opulent
house head portrayed by masquerades like Gbassa and Alagbrt. Or the
massive, stolid character portrayed by the maskers o f Otobo a water
spirit who is thought o f as part man, part hippopotamus, ar d who is
addressed in song as Beast who holds up even the flowing tide. By
way o f contrast, there is the cunning, amoral hypocrite portrayed by
Ikaki Tortoise. Or the sexy, good-for-nothing aristocrat Jgbo, of
whom they sing: His father sent him to market to buy yarns; but
instead he bought womans vagina. O ! Jgbo, son of a chief! O! Jgbo, son
o f a chief! Or again, there is the native doctor NgbuJa, grunt ng around
with grim concentration in search o f bad medicines and evil spirits:
suspicious like all of his profession that people are talking ill of him, and
breaking off from time to time to make ferocious charges at his supposed
detractors among the Ekme members. Female water spirits, too, some
times take the central place in a masquerade. Notable among these is
Igoni; a garrulous, self-pitying old widow who alternately bemoans her
own and everyone elses troubles.*
B ut in spite o f the existence o f such plots and o f some linguistic
content in songs and comment, this aspect o f Ekm e masquerading
is only o f secondary importance. It is worth quoting Horton at
some length on this point, for h e makes absolutely cl- ar that it is
the dancing and the drumming rather than the linguistic element
w hich is the important part o f these dramatic performances:
Diverse as they are . . . the verbalized themes of the m fquerade are
never very elaborate. All that can be said about the characters portrayed
in a particular play takes no more than a sentence or two. And the plots
o f the Egbert tableaux are sketchy in the extreme especially if one
compares them with the rich narrative which the Kalahari weave about
the water spirits in other contexts. There is, in fact, a good reason for
this sketchiness and brevity. For the masquerade is not intended as the
enactment o f verbal narrative. Its dominant symbols are those o f
rhythmic gesture, dictated by the drum; and in so far as its verbal com
mentaries have a use, it is one o f directing attention to the broad area
in which the meaning of the dance gestures lies. Words here provide no
1 Horton 1963, p. 97.

514

Som e S p ecia l Form s

more than a bare, crude outline o f meaning, and it is left to the language o f
the dance to fill in the detail which makes the masquerade rich and satisfying
to its audience.*
I f an Ekine member is asked how he recognizes a particular play, he
does not start to talk about the character portrayed or about the plot of
the Egbert. He starts by imitating the rhythm of its drums; and perhaps,
if there are no women about, by dancing a few of its characteristic steps.
By this, he is able to convey the distinctive features of the play: for
every masquerade has its own characteristic set of drum-rhythms,
beaten on a characteristic combination of drums.. . .
The value which Ekine sets on the dancers attunement to the drum
does much to explain why its members consider possession by the
masquerade spirits to be the crowning achievement of the expert
performer. In Kalahari thought, all symbols of the gods are instinct
with their presence. Now the drum-rhythms of each masquerade are
symbols of its spirit owner, and as such they too are vehicles of his
presence. So, saying that the spirit owner has taken charge of the
dancers body is a natural way of describing the ideal state of attune
ment in which the drum-rhythms seem to have taken over the mans
movements from his conscious will and thought. That these are indeed
two ways of describing the same experience is suggested by the reply
of a gifted dancer whom I asked what it was like to become possessed
during the dance. As he put it: One plays until, as it were, the drum
pushes one around.*
Besides verbalized content and rhythm, a third element in
these Kalahari masquerades consists o f the costumes, o f w hich the
most distinctive part is the headpiece, sometimes including a wooden
mask. T h is mask is regarded as distinct from the rest o f the cos
tume and is the name o f the masquerade, so that even when it
is not in fact visible to the spectators it still plays a part. But even
the masks have only a secondary role compared to the dancing.
T h e real core o f the masquerade lies in the dance and . . . b y and
large other elements are only considered important in so far as they
contribute to it.J
Horton concludes that despite certain functions o f Ekine
activity (its significance as a status symbol or organ o f government)
the essential values can only be called aesthetic.4 W h y then, if
the masquerade is first and foremost an art, does it retain dose
assodations with religion ?
Horton argues that reacting to a human performance as a work
* My italics (R. F.).
9 Ibid., p. 100.

* Horton 1963, pp. 98-9.

* Ibid., p. 111.

Drama

5*5

o f art seems to involve two main factors: first, an ability to exchange

practical workaday reactions to the subject-matter for some sort o f
attitude o f contemplation an eye w hich is engaged yet som ehow
aloof ;1 and secondly, a suspension o f personal reactions to the
actor as a known individual in favour o f a concentration on his
role in the performance. N ow in modern W estern theatre and ballet
these requirements are usually fulfilled without much difficulty.
T h e theme o f play or ballet is often removed from the first-hand
experience o f th e audience; so too are the actors, so that the
problem o f suspending personal reactions to them as individuals
does not arise. B ut in a small-scale homogeneous society like that
o f the Kalahari the situation is very different:
In the first place, the greater uniformity o f social experience means
that the audience will have had first-hand exposure to the subjectmatter of almost any dramatic performance. In their case, the subjectmatter is always near the bone. Secondly the performers are always
personally known to most of their audience.2
T h e Kalahari solution to these difficulties can be found in the
religious context o f the masquerades. First, by associating the
plays with water spirits, the Kalahari can, in a complex way, dis
entangle them from the too human and personal context. Further
more the actors water spirit disguise makes it relatively easy for
the spectators to concentrate on the play itself, on the roles rather
than the individuals. T h is also helps to explain the prohibitions
laid on women in connection with E kine activity (as well as w ith
W est African masquerades elsewhere). It is not that they are for
bidden all knowledge of the masquerades: indeed, they are its
principal spectators. W hat they are forbidden is to know o f or
suggest any connection between masquerades and an individual
player. In Kalahari masquerades the masks, the costume, the
religious associations and prohibitions all serve to bring about the
'psychical distance essential in dramatic art.
T h is discussion o f W est African masquerades tends to one main
conclusion. T h a t is, that though these performances possess cer
tain o f the elements we associate w ith drama, the emphasis is very
different from that o f most modern European drama. Even where
there are some linguistic content and plot, these always seem secon
dary to drum m ing and its essential counterpart, dancing. A s
1 Ibid., p. 103.

2 Ibid., p. 104.

5x6

Som e Special Forms

H orton suggests it seems .that 'at least in certain areas o f West

A frica, the dance overshadows sculpture, painting, architecture,
and literature as the leading traditional art.1
v
H ow far can the discussion in this chapter be said to be relevant
for the study o f A frican oral literature? W ith a few possible ex
ceptions, there is no tradition in Africa o f artistic performances
w hich include all the elements which might be demanded in a strict
definition o f drama or at least not with the emphases to which
w e are accustomed. W e can go further and add that what dramatic
or quasi-dramatic performances can be discovered never seem to
involve tragedy- in th e normal sense. T h e events and characters
are depicted as com edy, and treated more or less realistically, even
cynically. Though costumes and masks are sometimes important,
there is no evidence o f specialized scenery or o f buildings or sites
specifically designed for theatrical performances. T h e players are
sometimes skilled experts or belong to artistic associations such
as the E kine Society, but there is no tradition o f professional actors.
T h e audience, finally, is sometimes a pure audience in the sense
that it appreciates w ithout itself taking part directly; but, w ith the
significance o f th e dance and the absence o f the proscenium
barrier, there is often a tendency to greater audience participation
than is typical o f m ost recent W estern drama.
W e can also make other negative points. L ittle direct light is
thrown on the question o f the origin o f drama b y a study o f
A frican dramatic form s except possibly in the vague sense that
it m ight be said to enlarge our general view o f the possibilities o f
drama, or o f certain elements in drama. Sim ilarly it adds little
support to the kind o f interpretation o f drama w hich relies on the
idea o f tragic archetypes and o f rituals ultim ately referable to The
Golden Bough.
However, one positive point does emerge. T h ou gh different*
* Horton 1963, p. 11a. For further references to drama in Africa see the
bibliographies in A f r . S tu d ie s B u lle tin 5.2,1962, pp. 50-3 (by H. L . Shore) and
in Traor6 1958. There is a detailed and sympathetic account of Ijebu (Yoruba)
masquerades in Ogunba <967. See also the briefer report in J. P. Clark, Aspects
o f Nigerian Drama, N ig e r ia M a g . 89, 1966. and J. M . Gibbs, Aspects of
Nigerian Dramatic Tradition, unpub. M .A. thesis, American University,
Washington, 1967, csp. chs. 1, 2, and bibliography.

Dram a

517

elements o f drama are stressed in different African cultures, one

them e that seems to run through almost all these A frican per*
formances is the overriding significance o f music and dance and
the secondary importance o f the spoken word. Even in the M ande
comedies, w hich at first sight seem most to resemble th e more
verbalized type o f European drama, the stress laid on w ords seems
to vary: w hat is constant is the emphasis on dance, song, and mime.
Further research obviously needs to be done on this. B ut it does
appear that, at least in W est A frica (the area which provides the
m ost highly developed dramatic forms), w e would be mistaken to
look only at the verbal content in any discussion o f drama and miss
the rich traditions in m usic and dance which form essential
elements in dramatic performances.1 Though there m ay be no
plays in quite the Western sense, these indigenous artistic forms
nevertheless possess some o f the elements we associate w ith drama.
T h e y present a dramatic representation o f life in a detached and
yet somehow more direct and active w ay than can b e conveyed
through descriptive words alone, and in this way provide a com
plem ent to the various forms o f oral literature already described.
1 Traditions exploited in modem literature by, for instance, the 'Yoruba folk
operas described by H. U. Beier, A f r . M r n ic i. x, 1954, and the musical and
balletic emphases in productions by recent West African playwrights.

CONCLUSION
S e v e r a l points emerge from this examination o f oral literature
in Africa.
T h e first is an obvious one. T h is is the relevance o f African
oral literature for comparative literature in the wide sense. T h e
study o f the kinds o f instances and genres touched on in this
account can enlarge both our literary experience and our concept
of literature altogether. It can also throw light on some recent
literary experiments (jazz poetry, for instance) as well as on the oral
background to literature even in literate cultures. Its significance,
in other words, is by no means confined to those with a special
interest in the continent o f Africa.
T h e kind o f conclusions I m yself would draw about the nature
of this African literature would be, first o f all, to repeat the obvious
point of its variety. N ot only is generalization difficult, but many o f
the general conclusions that have been stated to date turn out to
be based on, relatively little evidence. It now seems obvious, for
example, that simple generalizations about the collective nature o f
art in non-literate cultures cannot hold good in face o f the evidence
about the creative activity o f the individual poet or story-teller,
and that the process o f artistic composition even in non-literate
societies turns out to be more com plex than often imagined.
Again and this is perhaps more controversial I would hold that
there is less support than might be expected from the African
material for the mythopceic or archetypal interpretation o f litera
ture, or the idea that African literature is all marked b y dark
mysticism or similar catchwords. Finally, the fashionable struc
tural approach o f Levi-Strauss and his followers has not seemed
a fruitful one for any detailed study o f actual oral genres in A frica
in their own context. T h is type o f elegant but at times rather far
fetched analysis turns out, in my opinion, to be less illuminating
in the face of the facts than a less ambitious analysis o f the obvious
meaning and context o f actual instances.
Some o f these conclusions are no doubt controversial. B ut the
main point that I want to insist on here is that such questions are
relevant ones for the study o f literature, and ones on which the
A frican material can throw light. It should no longer be acceptable

Conclusion

539

to discuss such problems in the abstract without reference to the

actual facts o f African literary expression. A frican oral literature,
in short, is part o f the literature o f the world and should be con
sidered significant as such.
T h e second main point m ay not be so obvious. T h is is the
relevance o f African oral literature for sociological analysis. It
has been well said that a society cannot be fully understood without
its songs. But this has sometimes, it seems, been forgotten b y the
sociologists.1 In particular, those who have concerned themselves
with the sociology o f foreign and o f so-called prim itive societies have
too often neglected to take any serious interest in their literary forms.
T h is aspect is so important that I want to expand on it a little.
Traditional African societies have b y and large normally been
grouped into the general category o f prim itive. A n d one o f the
most important differentiating characteristics o f this category is
normally taken to be the fact o f being non-literate ; another is
o f being simple . People have found it only too easy to slip from
this into the assumption that non-literate involved something
like our concept o f illiterate (i.e. someone w ho in a literate com
m unity may be regarded as having failed to master the ways of
that particular culture),2 and, further, that sim ple implied simple
intellectually or artistically as well as simple in technology. Neither
o f these assumptions is in fact logically or em pirically defensible.
In particular, there is nothing necessarily backward about a poet
in a culture which does not use the written w ord choosing to
express his literary ability through the rich oral medium at his
disposal. Furthermore and this is the pertinent point in this
context it should now be clear from the descriptions and examples
given in this book that being non-literate or technologically simple
does not mean that such societies are lacking in elaborate artistic
forms, in literature, in com plex symbolism, in scope for the in
dividual to express his own artistry and insights, or in an awareness
o f the depths and subtleties o f the world and o f hum an life. A s a
Kongo proverb expresses it: T h e human heart is not a bag into
which one can plunge ones hand.3 T h is becomes evident with
even a cursory study o f oral literature. But it is a facet that is
A term in which I include social anthropologists.
1 A point well made in Andrzejewski 1965, p. 96.
1 Kongo proverb (J. Van Wing, 'Bakongo Incantations and Prayers, J R A I
6 0 , . P)-

93

401

520

Conclusion

almost always overlooked when people speak o f the non-literate

and simple societies o f traditional Africa.
T h is oral literature, furthermore, needs to be taken seriously
in its own right. Explaining oral literature away by reference to
social or even sym bolic function is to miss much o f its actual de
tailed significance, and is as m uch o f a disservice to the sociologist
as to the literary critic. T h e relationship between literature and
society is too com plex and various to be reduced to such generalized
explanations. E ven for a sociological analysis literature, m ust be
considered first in its own terms before an accurate assessment can
be made o f its role in society. A n d i f some still prefer not to speak
o f literature here, it must at least be admitted that whatever the
actual term used there existsa com plex oral art in African cultures
and that this m ust be taken seriously into account in any balanced
assessment o f African societies.
T h is is a point I want to emphasize. T h e fact o f the existence o f
this oral art this literature as I w ould call it is something w hich
both throws light on the nature o f A frican societies and also helps
to undermine the old view o f the quality o f non-literate societies
generally. It is not something peripheral, but basic to their life
and thought. It is something, in short, which, too often forgotten,
must be taken into full account b y the sociologist in his approach
to these societies.
T h is leads on to one final point. I t might be supposed that
such literature is dying out w ith th e impact o f literate, wealthier,
and reputedly m ore progressive cultures. T h is is not necessarily
so at all. Som e genres, it is true, are receding; but others political
songs, new versions o f dance songs, new religious lyrics are in
creasing in importance. Oral literature, in fact, plays its part in
developing, not ju st traditional, A frica.
I t is frequently assumed that the only and the natural direction
o f developm ent for undeveloped countries like Africa m ust be
towards greater reliance on the w ritten word. T h is assumption,
however, m ay not be justified. People have spoken o f the revolu
tion in communications in W estern countries in the last few
decades w hich involves a change to a m uch greater dependence on
auditory form s (the radio in particular) at the expense o f the visual
(the w ritten word). T h is greater reliance on auditory form s is
something w hich would not seem at all strange to those brought
up in the traditions o f spoken literature characteristic o f A frica.

Conclusion

521

Indeed this reliance on the spoken word and thus on oral

forms o f expression may well increase rather than decrease in
A frica in the future. T h is is not unlikely to follow increasing
European influence, both in its general turning towards nonwritten forms and in some o f the particular literary experiments
w ith oral or semi-oral forms. T h is tendency towards oral forms
m ay also be intensified as the transistor radio spreads still further.
A lready there is evidence from all over the continent o f the radio
being used as the vehicle o f oral literary forms the mvet songs
over Yaounde radio, for example, or the Somali baboo, ideal
material for broadcasting; and though a medium involving a mass
rather than a face-to-face audience must necessarily lead to some
changes in the traditional nature o f oral art, it is yet clearly related
to it. I t m ay be, then, that increasing dependence on the written
w ord m ay not necessarily be the obvious line o f development
in the A frica o f the future.
W hatever our guess for the future, however, it is clear that
oral literature whether addressed to small fam ily groups, an
emirs court, political rallies, or radio listeners is not just some
thing o f the past. It is relevant for the contemporary analysis o f
African society and not ju st for those interested in traditional
culture or antiquarian researches.
African oral literature, then, is o f interest not only for students
o f literature, but also for sociologists and all those w ith an interest
in African society, past or present. T h e final note must be, how
ever, to point to the great need for further research into this sub
je ct: the present book can provide only an introduction.

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P. Duignan and K . M . Glazier, A checklist of serials for African studies,
Stanford, 1963.
Fiches analytiques (Sciences humaines africanistes), Centre danalyse et de
recherche documentaires pour IAfrique noire, Paris, 1966-.
L . J. P. Gaskin, A select bibliography of music in Africa, IA I, London,

I9&5-

IA I, Africa bibliography series (series A): ethnology, sociology and lin

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A d a li >Mo r tty , G . E w e poetry, Black Orpheus 4 (1958).

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N y e m b b z i , C . L . S ., Zulu proverbs, J o h a n n e s b u r g , 19 5 4 .

o r r is ,

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V an

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Cdte-dIvoire, Cah. itud. afr. 15 (1964).

''*ci:cjon N o . !

Class No.

TWI SERIES
AKUAPEM READER 6

KAN ME HWE
NHOMA A STO SO ASIA
EDITED nr

W . M . B E V E R ID G E

H. B

Illustrations by
and D. B

arnett

eaumont

W A T E R V IL L E P U B L ISH IN G H O U S E
ACCRA

GHANA

1964

P R I N T E D IN H ON G K O N G
BY THE CONTINENTAL PRINTING CO. LTD.

EMU NSSM
Krataja

Ti
i . A g yin a m o a ne Dsebo ho atetesem bi

2. Oponko b i a wade no g ye e nnipa nkw a ho asem

3. A b o fra guanhw efo bi a obeyee obirempon
4. A d esu a y e m a m m ofra .

4
7
11

5. A bosonsom y e nnaadaa

12

6. O nipa desani atam fo n h yiam bi m u nsem

7. O hem m aa E s t e r ............................................

13
15

8. M ogya D ansefo Samuel O tu ho asem

21

9. D ode A k a i b i ............................................

25

10. A b e ne n'abusuafo A k o n gu a pere

11. D r. Jen n er ho asem

.
.

27 >
33

12. D am on ne P i t i a s ............................................

36

13. Cdena kurow ho atetesem b i .

14. A g g re y ho a s e m ............................................

39
42

15. Sarem n s e m

48

............................................

16. A m a n y o ho Agoru bi

56

17. B aselfo S ik a Mpoano Asem patrew adwuma ho

asem
.......................................................

60

18. M a n d o m b i.......................................................

65

19. B lon d el ho a s e m ............................................

70

20. O d u yefo Ronald Ross ho asem

74

Kratafa

Ti

21. A b ofra kokodurufo b i .................................................... 81

22. Asubonten Nil I
23. N k u ro fo m

............................................................... 83
e ...................................................................88

24. Oponko nw onwafo bi ho asem

90

25. Israel D w om 1 0 4 ............................................................... 99

26. A san te hene bi ho asem

.101

27. Asubonten N il I I .............................................................103

28. H oratius ho a sem ............................................................. 108
29. N hom akyerew ho asem

30. Se eyee na okom gui wo asase y i so

.
.

. 1 1 2
. 1 1 9

31. S t a n l e y ........................................................................ 126

32. K um aw u hene T w eneboa K o d ia a Owu gyee
O s a n t e m a n ............................................................. 138
33. N hom a t i n t i m ........................................................141
34. T etefo no a s e t r a ............................................................. 145
35. Aborofo akw antufo k y in a w obekyinkyin A bibirim no ho m faso
.
.
.
.
.
36. T w i dwom 3

157

............................................................. 160

A c k n o w l e d g m e n t s ...................................................163
N otes for the T e a c h e r .................................................. 165
N otes on the S e c t i o n s ..................................................169

VI

l
AGYINAMOA NE OSEBD HO
ATETES8 M BI
D a b i a osebo rek yin apE biribi adi wo kw ae bi ase no,
one agyinam oa kohyiae, na okyiaa no se: *' A n u a, m akye
o o ! " Nanso agyin am oa annye so. nna osebo rebisa
no se: " N a wo de, ehe n a wowoo wo na wom powee koraa
y i? Aden na abusua hene a ote se me k y ia w o na wunnye
me s o ? A gyin am oa buae se: wom , w oye abusua
hene de, nanso esiane se w oye odasani tam fo na me de,
m eye ne dofo nti, m intum i m in kyia wo. Me m m a nso,
efi won m m ofraase n y in a a m ekyere won se, w o sebo ne wo
m m a de, wane m o m m m o da, m aka m akyere won mpo se
w ohu m o a, w onhintaw n a wonnkasa m o ano d a .
nna osebo paee serew kae se: "M e nso, se m ihyia wo
kw aem ha b aabiara an aa m ete w o nne a, g y e me di se
m erenhaw me ho wo w o ho. W okyere se m eye odasani
ta m fo : w oaka no y iy e , mepene so. N a odasani dofo a
wuse w oye no mmom n a ennim. W o ye n ak o a mmom na
w o n y e ne dofo. So enye sika ketew aa bi n a otew de too
w o m poano ho? N a ode wo fi ho reko n a k u ra a a worepere no, manhu ne n yin aa? W onkae se m uduu fie no,
ode w o hyee ne yere nsa kae se: 'H w e nea aboa y i apirap ira me ho nyinaa, g y e no hwe no so m a me, na se oye a,
d a b i mehu, se onye nso a, ne su na ebekyere. Woa n te se oreka ak yere obea no se: Mma no aduan nnni
i

jia m a nan kasa nkjdn m pe akisi ne nkura? Mibisa wo

se: oyanko p a k a sa n i?
nna a gyin am o a buae s e : " A m p a , ataa me s e akoa,
nanso midii nnansa wo n akuraa ha kyeree akisi abiesa
pe, na ofii ase y e e m e s e ne fi dehye. Dkoka kyeree n'afipam fo s e : M an ya aboa bi a ode agyinam oa, metaa no
aboaden, n a m itu a a ne ti ade no po m inuu m e ho. Nanso
afei de, m ahu s e m a tu ahu, efise ab o a y i y e m e adam fo pa.
D a biara anadw o okum akura biako, enti afei de, nkura
nwewe me m m a nansoaa anadw o bio, n a m aberewa nso
d a a, n ani kum . M 'aduan a m idi nso, afei de, akisi m fa
wan ano n ka, na w ade wan ho n yarew a asan me. E yinom
nti mingoru no ho koraa. Oguadini no hyee me ba s e
abewo m m a n a n ase afee, na ne m m a no nso mepe s e
wasE wan n a.
"M ete e s e m e w u ra no kam fo m e sa a no, m ani gyei s e ,
enti m eyeree m e ho kunkum akisi no ara. A m pa, an kye
na mewoe. Me w u ra no ankasa nam ne nan mu besraa
me wa ntannan m u ha m aa me tiri nkw a, kam foo me m m a
nkum aa no h yee m e ba, s e , s e abEtan b i am a obi m po a,
gye okuroni a ate kurom ha. Y iy e bebrebe a me w ura y i
y e me nti me ne no ntam nni asem bi, enti me ne me m m a
de, yenim s e adasani y e yen adam fo. N ea odasani ne yen
ba ho mmoden ara ne se aman m u bEtew. wom s e
m isua de, nanso adasani adam fo a m eye nti, mesen wo.
Odasani ne ne m pam fo de, nea w ahw ehw e ara ne ahoaden
ne anuonyam ne am ansiesie: w okyi adesee. ye nwonwa
s e w o m m om a w oy ahoadenfo n a w o ho yE fe no, w o ys
adasani tam fo n e aseefo. E n ti n a y e h y ia kw ae y i ase a,
m in kyia w o no.
Ofiebofo k a sa 3d m aa aseba bo fuw ii. nna ose:
" A k o a y i y e dw ae, mifi hui a k ye , enti na m aba me tirim
s e d a biara a me nsa beka no no, m eyi no h a , enti nne de,

 'I

nne ara ne nne. A m p a, an k a osebo bekum agyinam oa

awe no a ne dompe b iak o renka, nanso ofiebofo kra
yiyeyiye, odasani a okura ne peaw befii so, n a ohuu nea
osebo rebeye no, otow ne p eaw woo no de kum no.
Odasani k aa ofiebofo anim , kyeree no se onye akekaboa
bio, enti efi ho onntu ne nan nnsi kwae mu ho da, na
nadwum a ne se oboa ono dasani tew kurow mu. E y i nti
na agyinam oa ne n asefo nko w u ra mu no. N a se wofom
ko mpo a , w onka mu asem n k y ere odasani.

2
OPONKO BI A WODE NO GYEE NNIPA
NKWA HO AS6M
A

Oponko y e mmoa a esom n n ip a y iy e no mu biako. W otaa

tra no so tw a okwantenten a nnipa ntum i m fa won nan
ntwa, otum i soa nnosoa, tw e nteaseenam nso. wom
se oso na ne ho nso y e den de, nanso oye aboa a osuro ade
na odwo na onim nyan sa nso.
Mmere bi oponko fitaa fefe b i traa A burokyiri a k u ra a bi
a eda m poano ase. E siane se asorokye a ano y e den bo
bedwira po no ano ho daa na abotan akese tintim m poano
ha pee wo nsu no ase nti, ah yen a eba ho no ta a bobo.
Wabo mmoden kyere ahyen kw an daa, bo hyen m ufo no
koko na woam m a ahyen no am m en m poano ho, nso woye
a, entetam .
Woso hyen kw an kyere k a n ea a esi m poano ho no da
biara de k y ere ahyen kw an , nanso ahyen no bi gu asu wo
mpoano ho ara. N ea ema eba saa ne se, eto d a bi a,
om ununkum si kusuu a enti hyen m ufo no nhu hann no
wo mpoano ho, eto da bi nso a, ahum a ano y e den tu epo

no so a hyen m ufo no ntum i nnyina ano koraa, na se

w oyere won ho se den ara a, ahum no k a h yen no bepem
abotan no m a ebubu pasaa, anaase nso ab o tan no fitifiti
h yen no ho m a nsu n y a m u kw an na emem.
M ugye di se den na nnipa a ete m poano ho y e de boaa
h y e n m ufo mmoborofo y i ? Wokopee okorow b i a wode gye
n n ip a nkw a betoo won ho wo mpoano ho. S aa okorow y i te
se ahyem m a bi a wode atabon hare a w oahye d a aye no
senea wode fa ahum m u a ebeye ye. Se eba se hyen bi
b e k a abotan y i m u a, w ohyen aben m a m m arim a a won
fi ben ho no de m m irika ko nea nkw agye korow y i wo ho
kofa de kosi po no ani. N so enye adw um aw a, efise obonto
no y e duru. E n ti eha na w onya oponko no ho mfaso.
Ono nso tc aben no a, ode m m irika b a nea nnipa no abeh y ia ho. N ea w oye no ne se wode no sa okorow no na
ode n ahooden n yin aa atw e. Oretwe y i n y in a a n a nnipa
no nso sum a k yi, enti enkye koraa na wode akosi po no so.
Se asiane bi siane hyen bi a, se woye no d aa nen, na woyee
saa ade y i de gyee nnipa pii nkwa.
A k y iria k y iri no nnipa no hui se oponko no renyin, enti
afei de, wobehwehwe oponko foforo, nanso esiane se
odedaw no asom won m fe pii na enti wope n'asem ara nti,
wokoo so hwee no so ara, na wogyee ban bi m aa no traa
m u wo baabi a sare m om ono fefe bi wo se ebeye na
o b en ya aduan pa adi n a ne ho ato no.

E y i ak yi no ekyee ara sann ansa na hyen foforo rebebo

ab o tan no so ho. A w ow bere mu, d a bi ahum kese bi tui,
n a ade resa no, n a em u re y e den, nso saa bere no na osram
m fii, enti po a erebo m patabiribiri ne sum kab ii no m aa po
no so ho yee hu. M poano ho nso, nnipa no totoo won
5

apon ne m fensere m u tratraa won g y a ho kom m wo adan

m u d iin k o m m o s e : " A o , den asem n i! W o n a s w o p o s o
saa here y i nnue. E y i de, hyen b i k ra pa n a k yi na
ebeka abotan y i m u a, na nea ahu aso ara nen. wom
worn a, n a m m arim a baasawa bi afi adi akogyin a mpoano
ho ahw e s e w obehu biribi ana, nanso Eys a, wonkyE koraa
na woasan aba. M fram a wiridudu a erebo no pa so s e
akekaboa bi, n a sbo dwira won a w ontum i nnyina ho
koraa. A sorokye a ebobow bedw ira m poano ho nso m m a
obiara n te asem biara n a spo nsu no nso bo dw ira won ani
so.

Afei na nnipa no mu fa kese no ara adeda, saa bere yi na

obarima bi hui s e ahum no de hyn bi reba, aben abotan no
pEE, na EyE s e nnipa a ewom no apa abaw na ankys koraa
na Ekohyss abotan no ntam kaa ho. Hyen mufo no fii
ase totow asraman teeteEem de kyeree s e woahia adadee
ntam.
N nipa a e w o m poano ho nso tee, h yen won aben no
m aa m m arim a sore koo nea n k w agye korow no wo ho:
wokofaa oponkoforo no nso bae, nanso wode no resa okorow
no pe, na w otee oponko foforo bi nso su ne n'anan ase.
W otee osu no pe, na wohui se eye won ponko dedaw no.
Ono nso a te aben no, woato ne ban a oda m u no ano pon
m u, nanso oboo mmoden ara hu ru w fii, ono nso reba
abeboa bi. W ode ono nso saa okorow no m aa one ne yonko
no de won ahooden n yin aa tw ee okorow no de kosii nsu
no ani de g ye e hyen m ufo no n y in a a nkw a. Nanso
adw um a y i boroo oponko dedaw no ahooden so, na bere a
w ayere ne ho retw e okorow no, ne k om a tew ee m a owui wo
akono ho. S e ewiee oponko nyan safo y i ni. Ohui se ne
ho hia ne nnam fonom no, ope ara na opee se okoboa won
bi. N adw um a a edi akyiri y i mu n a owui, nanso ode
gyee nnipa pii nkw a.
6

Nsemmisa
1. D en nti na oponko no nyinii a ontumi n ye adw um a bio
no, nnipa no ankum no?
2. D en na edi adanse se bere a oponko y i anyin a ontum i
n ye hwee no mpo na ope se oye biribi de boa ne nnam
fonom no ara?
3. So wunim m m oa bi a won ho baa mfaso anaa woye
anyansafo anaa wodii nokw are ho abasem bi?

4. S e woye okorow a wode gye hyen mufo nkwa no mu

adwuma bi a, anka wops ana?
5. Se w o ye saa adwum a y i a, ebehia se wosore anadwo
b i a awow ab a anaa osu reto kofa okorow no ko po so, na
etum i b a m po se asu fa w o : enti su ben na ehia nnipa a
eye saa adw um a yi?
6. D en nti na adwum a y i ho wo asiane, nanso nnipa bi
pe ara?
7. F a w o ho se wofra ahyen a asorokye boboe no mufo no
mu na k a yen mu asem.

ABOFRA GUANHWEFO BI A OB6Y88

OBIR8MPON
A. NEA MA OY ONIPA KESE

Bere bi abofra guanhwefo b i traa ase a efi ne m m ofraase

besi ne m m erante bere mu n y in a a obiara nnim no. Nanso
akyiri no oyee ade kese bi m a a ne man m a w opagyaw no
senea d a bi w opagyaw Y o s e f no, na ewiee akyiri no na
ohempon a odi asase no so no nko na osen no.
Ohene no m a otraa n ahem fi fefe bi a nturo a eye fe
atw a ho a h y ia mu. N a se worehye fa kese bi a, otra

teaseenam a wade sika kokoo adi ho adwini a efi te te no

oman no m u atitiriw tra m u no m u a nsraafo a w oh yehye
ntade kokoo ne fitaa di n anim ne n akyi. Odii asase no
so nyan sa m u m aa nnipa n yin aa, adefo ne ahiafo dii no ni,
de won ho too no so.
A de b iak o n a ewo ne ho a obiara ante ase. ne ss
odan bi w d ahemfi ho a bere b ia ra woato m u a obiara nni
ho kw an se ohyen ho g y e ne nkutoo. Nanso da b iara
oko ho kokye kakra. E n ti n n ip a fii ase kekae s e : " N a
den koraa n a ehye odan y i m u? Anw onwade ben n a eye
a, okoye wo ho yi?
N nipa akese nyinaa wo atam fo. S s w oye s e dsn a ra a,
m papahw ekw a bi wo ho a won ani bere wan ara anaase nso
nnipa bone bi wo ho a saa n n ip a akEse y i ho y e won ahi.
Obarima y i tam fo bi a oye n o anim -nkyene-atiko-yisa
konyaa ohene anim kw an to to o n ano kyeree no. D a bi
anadwofa a ohene no repase ne turom no, saa obarim a
y i baa ne n kyen se: " N ana, m ewo asEm b i m eka m ekyere
wo, nanso ehia se eye me ne w o baanu ntam asem , efise
efa w ankasa wo nkw a ho.
nna ohene no se: K a s a ; hena na m a y s no bone a
enti ope se oto so were yi?
N a obarim a no se: A ! enye obi a w oaye no bone na
mmom n ea w oaye no y iy e pii a p agyaw no oman y i m u,
obi a w oam a no nneema pa pii, n a oye w adam fo a wode
wo ho to no so.
nna ohene se: " K a no y iy e . ye h e n a ? " nna
opanyin no rebua se: " O y e onipa bi a wo hene nko na
wosen no oman y i mu. D en n ti n a wo m ankrado no wo
odan bi a ne nko na oko m u, n a omma obi kw an nko m u
bi? Hwe, orepam wo ti so. Ope se otu wo fi agua no so
na n'ankasa di hene. B io nso, N ana, oye osumanni kese,
oredue sum an de ohia, n yarew a ne owu aba wo so.
8

B.

ODAN A OBIARA NKO M U NO

A sem a opanyin no k a kyeree ohene no m aa ne bo fuvvii,

nso owo ho yi, ne bo fu w a, wom pata no. Osan koo fie
preko pe, na mpo ne ho hu m aa abaaw a b i a n 'an i boo no
so guan kohintawee. O yee ntem free n'aw em fo ne won boo
anan koo m ankrado no fi. W okofaa abobow ano apon no
m u, hyen opon pa no m u, koforoo atrapoe kese bi. Obiara
antum i ansiw ohene no kw an. Wokoe ara koduu opan yin no dan a obiara nko mu no pon ano. Wokoe na
w oato m u, enti ohene n o h yee se wom m ubu. P a a paa,
burann! na ohene na a n k asa bo hyen mu.
Obehyen dan m u ho a, hwee nni mu. Ohwee ne ho
n y in a a hyiae, nso w anh u sum an anaa ade bone bi. Odan
no nso ahe bi na nneem a a esensen ofasu ho ara ne kyew
d ed aw b i ne soro atade ne nguanhw e poma.
A fe i ohene no tw a a n ani n a ne m ankrado no gyin a ne
n kyen . nna orebisa no se: " N a eyinom sensen ha ye
den? D sn nti na wode w o nguanhw e atade, w o k yew ne
wo pom a asie de abesi nne?
nna opanyin no rebu a se: "N a n a , nneem a abien na
m ik y i: ahom aso ne bonniaye. se se onipa b iara y i saa
nneem a y i fi ne su mu. E n ti da biara anopa m eba ha
bekae bere a m eye abarim aa hiani na m ete mmepow so
h w e m e w ura nguan n o .
Ohene no gyin aa ho kw ansin, asem no k a a ne koma.
nna oreka no breoo a k y e re opanyin no se: "W om m oa,
m e m m ora n a m a y s bone se m atie w a tam fo asem.
M etu won m afi asase y i so .
E fi ho obiara antum i an k a opanyin y i ho asemmone bi
bio. Ohene no de nidi pii m aa no de ne ho to o no so mpo
sen kan no, nanso okoo so bree ne ho ase ara, efise, kyew
ne atad e ne pom a no n ti, ne were amfi da se kan no na
an k a oye oguanhwefo.
9

KYEW DEDAW BI NE SORO ATADE NE NGUANHW8 POMA NKO NA

ESENSEN OFASU HO.
k
Nsemmisa
1.
2.
3.
4.
3.

D en n a ohene n o su su w iise ewo o d a n a o b in k o m u n o m u ?

Okoo m u no, den na ohui?
Den n ti n a ne m ankrado no de saa nneem a y i siei?
D en n ti n a om m a obiara nko odan y i mu?
D sn n ti n a nneem a a ohene no kohui odan m u ho no m a
obuu ne m ankrado no mmom?
6 . Y e nneem a a ohene no kohui wo odan m u ho no m fonini.
7. So wunim nguanhw efo ho abasem foforo bi?
8. M omma y e m fa abasem y i n ye agoru horow abien:
I. N ea ebae ohene no turom ho.
II. N ea ebae wo m ankrado no fi ho.
10

ADESUA YE MA MMOFRA
1.

Se w oye abofra nti,

fa adesua g y e w a n i;
mmofra sua ade ntem ;
na m panyin aso asen.

2.

wom se m panyin nim de,

na m m ofra de, wonnim y iy e ;
eyi ara n ti ess
se adesua y e won de.

3.

W ubisa opanyin bi a,
obekyere w o nyansa pa,
wubisa nnipa baanu a,
ebi begum am a wo daa,

4.

Nnipa bebree a woawuwu,

de nea woasua ahu
nyinaa ra a h y e nhomam
na anyera w o nnipa mmam.

5.

E n ti hu se ye n nhoma
n ye obaako adwum a,
na nnipa pii abom aye
won nyan sa no kwasafode.

6.

E m fi oman koro nko;

am anam an bebree mpo
de nyansa p a ne nimdee
g ya w yen se awunnyade.

7.

N a nea ekyen ne nyinaa

ne nea N yam e ankasa
a y i am a ye n nnipa mina
se yem fa so n n ya daa nkwa.
11

teaseenam a wode sika kakaa adi ho adwini a efi te te no

oman no m u a titiriw tra m u no m u a nsraafo a w ah yeh ye
ntade kakaa n e fitaa di n'an im ne n a k yi. Odii asase no
so nyansa m u m aa nnipa nyinaa, adefo ne ahiafo dii no ni,
de wan ho to o no so.
Ade biak o n a ewa ne ho a obiara ante ase. ne se
adan bi wa ahem fi ha a here b ia ra w aato mu a obiara nni
h o kwan s e ohyen ha gye ne nkutoo.
Nanso da b iara
aka ha kakye kakra. E n ti nnipa fii ase kekae se: N a
den koraa n a ehye adan y i m u? Anw onw ade bEn n a eye
a, akaye w a ha y i ? "
Nnipa akese nyinaa wa atam fo. S e w oye se den ara a,
m papahw ekw a bi wa ha a wan ani bere wan ara anaase nso
nnipa bane b i wa ha a saa nnipa akese y i ho y e wan ahi.
Obarima y i tam fo bi a aye no anim -nkyene-atiko-yisa
konyaa ahene anim kw an totoo n ano kyeree no. D a bi
anadwofa a ahene no repase ne turom no, saa obarim a
y i baa ne n k y en se: "N a n a , m ewa asem bi m eka m ekyere
wo, nanso eh ia se eye m e ne w o baan u ntam asem, efise
sfa w an kasa w o nkw a h o ."
nna ahene no se: K a s a ; hena n a m aye no bane a
enti ape s e ota so were yi?
Na abarim a no se: A ! enye obi a w oaye no bane na
mmom nea w o a ye no y iy e pii a p a g y a w no oman y i mu,
obi a w oam a no nneem a p a pii, n a aye w adam fo a wode
wo ho to no so .
nna ahene se: K a no y iy e . y e h e n a ? " nna
apanyin no reb u a se: Dye onipa b i a wo hene nko na
wosen no oman y i mu. D en n ti n a w o m ankrado no wo
adan bi a ne n ko na aka m u, n a omma obi kw an nka m u
bi? H we, orepam wo ti so. Ope se otu wo fi agua no so
na n'ankasa di hene. B io nso, N ana, aye osumanni kese,
aredue sum an de ohia, n yarew a ne owu aba wo so.
8

B.

ODAN A O BIA R A NKO M U NO

A sem a opanyin no k a k y eree ohene no m aa ne bo fuwii,

nso owo ho yi, ne bo fu w a, w om pata no. Osan koo fie
preko pe, n a m po ne ho hu m aa abaaw a bi a n'ani boa no
so gu an kohintawee. Oyee n tem free n'aw em fo ne won boo
anan koo m ankrado no fi. W okofaa abobow ano apon no
m u, h y en opon pa no mu, koforoo atrapoe k ese bi. O biara
antum i ansiw ohene no kw an . Wokoe ara koduu opa
n yin no dan a obiara nko m u no pon ano. W okoe na
w oato m u, enti ohene no h y e e se wom m ubu. P a a paa,
burann! na ohene na an k asa bo hyen mu.
O behyen dan m u ho a, hw ee nni mu. Ohwee ne ho
n y in a a hyiae, nso w anhu sum an anaa ade bone bi. Odan
no nso ahe bi na nneem a a esensen ofasu ho ara ne kyew
d ed aw b i ne soro atade ne nguanhw e poma.
A fe i ohene no tw aa n ani n a ne m ankrado no g yin a ne
n kyen . nna orebisa no se: N a eyinom sensen h a ye
den? D en nti na wode w o nguanhw e atade, w o k y e w ne
wo pom a asie de abesi n n e? "
n na opanyin no rebua se: "N a n a , nneem a abien na
m ik y i: ahom aso ne bonniaye. 8se se onipa biara y i saa
nneem a y i fi ne su mu. E n ti da biara anopa m eba ha
bekae bere a m eye abarim aa hiani na m ete m m epow so
hw e m e w u ra nguan n o.
Ohene no gyinaa ho kw ansin, asem no kaa ne koma.
nna oreka no breoo ak ye re opanyin no se: W om m oa,
me m m om na m aye bone se m atie w atam fo asem.
M etu won mafi asase y i so.
E fi ho obiara antum i an k a opanyin y i ho asemmone bi
bio. Ohene no de nidi pii m aa no de ne ho too no so mpo
sen k a n no, nanso okoo so bree ne ho ase ara, efise, k yew
ne a ta d e ne pom a no nti, ne were amfi da se kan no na
an ka oye oguanhwefo.
9

KYW DEDAW BI NE SORO ATADE NE NGUANHWE POUA NKO NA

ESENSEN OFASU HO.
1

NsEmmisa
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.

D en na; ohene no susuwii s e ew o odan a obi nko m u no m u?

Okoo m u no, den na ohui?
D sn n ti n a ne m ankrado no de sa a nneema y i siei?
D sn n ti n a omma obiara nko odan y i mu?
D sn n ti n a n n eE m a a o h en e no kohui odan m u ho no m a
obuu ne m ankrado no m m om ?

6.

Y e nnesma a ohene no kohui wo odan mu ho no mfonini.

7. S o w u nim nguanhwefo ho ab as cm foforo bi?

8. M om m a y e m fa abasem 3d n y e agoru horow abien:
I. N e a ebae ohene no turom ho.
II. N ca ebae wo m ankrado no fi ho.
10

ADESUA YE MA MMOFRA
1.

Se w o y e abofra nti,
fa adesua g y e w ani;
m m ofra sua ade ntem;
na m p an yin aso asen.

2.

8wom s e m panyin nim de,

na m m ofra de, wonnim y iy e ;
eyi ara n ti e s e
s e adesua y e won ds.

3.

W ubisa opanyin bi a,
obekyere w o nyansa pa,
w ubisa nnipa baanu a,
ebi begum am a wo daa,

4.

N nipa bebree a woawuwu,

de nea w oasua ahu
n yinaa ra ahye nhomam
na a n ye ra wo nnipa mmam.

5.

E n ti hu s e yen nhoma
n y s obaako adwuma,
na nnipa pii abom aye
won n y an sa no kwasafode.

6.

E m fi oman koro nko;

am anam an bebree mpo
de n yan sa pa ne nimdee
g ya w ye n s e awunnyade.

7.

N a nea ekyen ne nyinaa

ne nea N ya m e ankasa
a yi am a yen nnipa m ma
se

y e m fa so n n y a d a a n k w a .

11

ABOSONSOM Y NNAADAA
D a bi a b eaw a bi a w oturu no b a koro yaree wo A san te
kurow bi so. D a koro bi de, oyare no behyee mu denneennen a a n k a oreye awu, enti wode no koo abosomfi se
wokobisa ne ti. Okomfo no kyeree se oyare no mu y e den,
nanso ne bosom adaworom a obeye ho bi am a won.
Okyeree se: obosom no an kasa
rebekyere se abofra no bew u
anaase o b e n ya nkw a, enti wom m etw a obosom no ho nh yia nhw e
no. S e w ohu se oresu a, ende
na ab ofra no renni ne yare no,
se w ansu nso de a, na obenya
nkwa.
W ode obosom no besii ho soo
kanea sii h o m aa obiara hw ee
komm. A n k y e na obosom no afi
ase su b aab aab aa.
Afei n a a to
abesewe: a^vofo no de adw otw a
ara kosii se aka kyeree won se
wonkohwehwe nsuruboaa anum
obosom no a n i a se nusu ne ng uan abien m m ra na obeye
a k y en k y en .
hobiam aw on.
Wofii ase sree okomfo no. se ompene na w ontua nsuru
boaa anum y i nkakran kakra. W ogu so resre ara na obi
hiee opon no m aa m fram a bo dum kan ea no. W ote sum
no mu no, okomfo no de ahoyeraw teeteeem se: Maburogya wo he? M 'ab u rogya wo he o? Ghe koraa na m ede
aburogya y i to e n a obosom bo rebefuw a h y e m o y i?
Mframa faa so ansa na wode kan ea foforo bae. A e if

12

wobehw e a , obosom no ani ase nusu no n a a k yen k y en y i.

O biara ho d w iriw no pee se ohu dekode a eye, W obehw e
a, se n a eye nku. W ode n k u a h y eh ye obosom no an iw a
mu, enti se k an ea no h y e w k a no a, n a nku no nan fa
n'anim ne n afono so se nusu a ra pe.
N n ip a no h u u no saa pe, n a won n yinaa huroo no se:
"H o o , odaadaafo, otorofo!
Okomfo n a afei n ani aw u y i. N e nkontom po ne nnaad aa no ad a ad i. E fi ho, w oante ne n k a kurow no m u b io
da.

ONIPA DESANI ATAMFO NHYIAM

BI MU NSM
D a koro b i onipa atam fo a eye ntontom , osebo, asaseboa (diga) m paboa ne som m ore k a kyeree won ho won
ho se: " Y a a n o m , yeanhw e a n h y ia a, yen ase rebetore.
O nipa desani hw ehwe yen ho akw an daa, nso ye n de,
yen ye ho hw ee. N tontom ho n y e hare se kan no bio,
osebo nso a ose n ani atew no nnipa a n y a n ano aduru,
asaseboa (diga) ko akyin a, om fa asem pa biara m m a.
Y ebek o asem y i ho agyina. he m po na yeb en ya a h y ia ,
na hena nso n a obetu yen fo?
E binom se: A pohuru wo ho yi, onim n yan sa se,
m om m a yen ko ne n kyen . nna ebinom nso se: D a b i,
apohuru de, one odesani nni asem bi nti, yeko a, orennya
asem pa bi n k a nkyere yen . W oretoto no saa no, wokaee
se apohuru m po onni baabi p a bi te, woko ne n kyen a,
w orennya baabi pa bi mmo gua, enti won ano koo benkoro
mu se worenko ne ho, na m m om wobehwehwe obi a ompe
onipa asem nanso owo ofi p a bi te mu.
W odwen ho ara yiye na w ose: Y ebek o m fote nkyen .

13

wan n a enim adansi n a w osi adan pa tra mu. A fei nso

wowe odesani nneema d aa, enti nne y i nyansa a a b a so no
won n a enim , yebeko won n k y en .
E n ti w otu i g y a a koo m fote akuraa.
N so m fote wo ho yi wom pe won ho asem koraa. W ote
won a k u ra a ara wobehw e a, ahoho na eba y i, akese ne
nketew a. nna wose: " Y a a n o m , amannee? A m p a yewe odesani nneem a ara kosi ne nhom a so, en ti yenim
nyansa, nun nhom a nso, nanso g y e se m oaka m o asem
ansa n a y e b e n y a ho m m u ae."
E n ti w oiii ase boo won am annes. Okraman nso koe bi,
enti osree se womm a onkasa kan. W om a okasae n a okaa
nea ehaw no nyinaa. N o k w a, nssm a okraman k a e n o ho
y e aniw u, en ti m erem m oa m fa nhaw m o aso.
n n a m fote se: 0 , okram an, aniwusem ben n a w oka
yi? E y i ne ohaw a w use odesani h aw w o y i? O nim na
wunnim . O nipa n ye w o tam fo. Se w o ne no tra , hwe
n a b rab u su a a, wobete n a k w a n ase."
n na osebo nso reka a k y e re okram an se: " B aafo o , m a
enye m e n tem n a san ko w o w u ra akuraa, n a w o tra b e a ara
ne ho, w ode w o ho bo ye n h o p E , m etetew wo. Me m m om ne
odesani tam fo. H w e senea ode ne tu o di m 'a k y i d a b iara .
M fote am m a osebo ano ansi n a w ose: Y e a te , yerem m a
w ano nsi. Y e a h u se w o y e onipa tam fo, nanso oso a woso
n ti, w o de de, enye den. W o de, d a a w o nsa k a odesani
n a w o k yere no we, w o an n ya n o nso a, w ote w o baabi.
E n ti w o de, nnipa a w o nsa k a wan kunkum won nsi ahe,
en ti m a ensi ha ara n a y e n tie m o m fefo no am annes. Ma
d w iw ne somm ore ne m p ab o a ne ntontom m m om n k a sa.
nna worefi ase abo won am annes se: " Y e a h u se onipa
m pe yen , eka ne nko a, a n k a ye n ase atore koraa. A de
a k y e y i, se oguan yen ho ara ni. Y e n y a d an tw ea baabi
k o to w a , g y e obepra ho. N ta m a anaa ofie b irib iara m u na
14

ye n y a trae a, gye ahyew an aa ohoro anaa onoa de kum yen.

Oda nso a, yen nti n a ntontonnan kata no so. D a biara
odesani ne ne nuna m m a ye n n y a baabi m fa yen ti nto.
E n ti yEnye no den? M unim se yete ho y i aduan a yedi
ara ne odesani m o g y a !"
Cnna m fote se: Mo asem y i ye den, yebesusuw ho
y iy e ansa na yeabua ho.
E n ti wosore koforee b aab i tuu agyina. W obae a,
nea wode betoo osebo ne n e m fefo no anim n e se: yehu se
asem a mode bae y i y e m o ahiasem. Odesani rehaw mo
am pa, nanso enye m o nko. Y e n nso nnansa y i ara w atu
nani a sa yen denneennen, odesani nso de, w a n y a afi ase
y i orennyae d a g y e se w atore yen ase awie. E ye awerehosem , nanso asem pa n a ye re k a no. Ose ono nso rebeye
ara kosi se yen ase begu ko raa am a one ne yere ne ne m m a
ho ato won. N hom a a yew ew e no mu nsem b i a yeahu nen.
M m oa no koo m fote n k y en na ansi baabi no, wode
aw erehow san koo won akiriaa.
E n ti efi nne m onkae se yen e m m oaam m oaa a ahintaw
y e yen bone no n yin aa y e dom. K an no n a a n k a yesusuw
se g y a ta , owo, odenkyem ne mm oa akese a ekyere nnipa
no n ko ne yen atam fo, nanso afei de, yeahu se atam fo no
b i wo ho a wonkyere yen se mm oa akese no y e no nanso
w okeka yen m a yeyare. E n ti mmofra, m uhu dvviw, anaa
sommore anaa m paboa a n a a ntontom a, m unsuro won,
w oye onipa atam fo.

OHEMMAA ESTER
A . SE M EYERA A , MAYERA

P ersia hene Ahasw eros here so no Y u d a n i ababaa fefe

bi a wofre no E ster tra a ahenkurow Susan mu. Oye

ayisaa a onni na, enti ne busuani M ordekai faa no yen no

yee no se n an k asa ne ba. Y u d afo no y e am am frafo wo
Persia, wokofaa won nananom nnom m um wo Y u d a asase
so na ebaa ho, nanso won mu bi a b ey e nnipa akese wo
Persia ho, saafo no m u bi ne Mordekai.
E ster n yin yee ababaa M eefe, enti ohene Ahasweros
waree no m a oyee Persia hemmaa, k o tra a ahemfi a n k o a
ne m fenaa sam ne ho som no daa. W o p ag yaw no saa no,
ne were am fi n a g y a Mordekai. W an tu m i amfi ahemfi ho
ankosra no ne fi, efise ohene no o, ne m panyin fo o, obiara
nnim s e E ste r y e Y u d an i ne M ordekai abanom a, na ono
Mordekai no nso a h y e no ase ketee se om m m a ohene nnhu
s e oye Y u d a n i, n a ote a, erenye no tie. N anso da b iara
Mordekai kopase ohene aban anim na E ste r nso wen d aa
se obehu no, n a ohu no a, onyam a ne nsa de k y ia no.
Ohene A h asw eros nso paw obarim a b i a ode H am an s e
n aguasem fo m u o titiriw hyee no anuonyam , m aa no tum i
kese. Nso H am an y e M ordekai tam fo. H am an y e
ohantanni ne otirimodenfo, na M ordekai ho ahi nti opse
se oto ne were Y u d a fo no so. E n ti d a bi ode too ohene
anim se omma w onhye m m ara m fa ne nsoano nsow ano n a
wonkokan P ersia man mu nyinaa se d a b i a wobehye no,
wonkum M ordekai ne Y u d a fo a ew o P ersia nyinaa.
N a am m irikatufo nam ohene asem so fi koe ntem ntem ,
na wohyee m m ara no Susan aban mu. N a Mordekai hui
nea a y e no n y in a a no, osunsuanee ne ntade mu, de
atw eaatam ne nso k a taa ne ho, na ofii adi koo kurow no
mfinimfini kosui dennen. nna E ste r m m abaa ne ne
mpiafo bae b e k a kyeree no. N a ohem m aa no boo piriw,
na osomae se w om fa ntade nkohye M ordekai, na w onyi ne
ho atw eaatam no, nso wannye.
nna E ste r free H atak, ohene m piafo no m u biako a
oma osom no, n a osomaa no M ordekai n k y e n se onkohwe
16

dekode a efi so. N a H a ta k fii a d i koo Mordekai n kyen

kurow no m prae a eda ohene ponkese anim no so. N a
M ordekai k a a no nea ato no no n y in a a , n a ode m m ara a
wohyee Susan se wonsee won no nkyerew ee nhweso m aa
no, se om fa nkokyere E ster n a onka nkyere no, n h ye
no se onko ohene n kyen nkokoto n o n a onsre m m a ne m an.
N a H a ta k bae bekaa M ordekai nsem no kyeree E ster.
Cnna E ste r som aa H a ta k m a okosee M ordekai se:
"O hene n k o a n yin aa ne ohene asase so nkurofo nim se
obarim a a n a a obaa biara a oba ohene nkyen, em u fam abangua so a wom free no no, n e m m ara biako pe na ewo ho,
se w okum no, g y e nea ohene b e tee sik a ahem pom a a k yere
no se ontra ase no, n a me de, ad ad u asa ni ohene m free m e
d a ." N a okokaa E ster nsem no k y ere e Mordekai.
N a M ordekai se wonkobua E ste r se: "N su su w se w o de,
wubefi m u wo ahemfi ho Y u d a fo n y in a a m u: n a m m om se
wum ua w ano bere y i mu a, ende oboa ne ogye befi b a a b i
aba am a Y u d a fo , nanso w o ne w a g y a ofi de, m obesee,
na ehena n a onim se ebere a ete see n ti na w o nsa a k a
ahenni n o .
nna E ste r soma kobuaa M ordekai se: K o h y ia
Y u d a fo a wowo Susan n yinaa b o a ano, na me n ti m unni
abuada, n a m unnnidi na m onnnom nnansa anadw o ne
aw ia; m e nso, m e ne me m m abaa bedi m m uada saa ara,
na m ede saa m ako ohene n kyen a ennam m m ara so, n a se
m eyera a, m a y e ra !
B . SIKA AHEM POM A

N a ebae se, eda a eto so nnansa no E ster hyee ohem m aa

atade n a okogyinaa ahemfi em u fam abangua so, ohene
dan no ntentenso, na ohene no te n ahengua so ahem fi,
ofi no pon ano ntentenso. N a ebae se ohene no h u u

17

ohem m aa E ster se o g yin a aban gu a so no, o n y a a nanim

anuonyam , na ohene te e s sik a ahem pom a a e w d ne nsam
no kyeree E ster: n a E s te r tw iw benee, n a abek aa ahem
pom a no ti.
N a ohene no see no s e : "D e n na eye w o, ohemmaa
E ster? N a den n a w orehw ehw e? S e y ahenni no fa
p o a , wode bem a w o ! " N a E ste r se: " S e eye ohene ani
so a, m a ohene ne H ain an m m ra opon a m eretow no no ho
n n e ! N a ohene se: "M o n y e ntem m m a H am an mmra,
n a w onye nea E ste r a k a n o ! " N a ohene n e H am an baa
opon a E ste r ato w n o ho.
N a ohene see E ste r n sa pon no ho s e : " D e n n a wops
s e w o y s m a wo?
N a d sn n a worehw ehwe? S e eye
ahenni no fa po a, wode b em a w o !" N a E ste r buae se:
" N e a m esre na m erehw ehw e ne se: se m 'anim a b a onyam
ohene anim na se eye ohene ani so se obema ade a meresre
n a w a y e nea m erehwehw e a, ohene ne H am an m m ra
opon a m erebetow won no ho, na okyena m e ye senea ohene
k a n o ."
Cnna d a no H am an de a n igye ne kom a p a fii adi behuu
M ordekai ohene ponkese n o m u n a wansore a n k a ne ho
n anim no, M ordekai h o abufuw h yee no m a. Nanso
osiw ne ho so siim koo ne fi, n a osomaa kofrefree n adofo
ne ne yere Seres bae. N a H am an k a a won n 'ahon ya
anuonyam ne ne m m a dod ow ne kese a ohene a y e no,
ne senea w am a no so a ta a asafohene ne ohene n k o a no so
n o, n a H am an se: N so ohemmaa E ster am m a obiara ne
ohene am m a opon a otowee no ho g y e m e n ko, n a okyena
n so w oahyia m e ne ohene reko ne nkyen, nanso se mihu
Y u d a n i Mordekai se ate ohene ponkese m u y i, e y i nyinaa
nnoa m e so !
Cnna ne yere Seres ne n adofo no n yin aa k a kyeree no
s e : Ma wonye dua a ne tenten si basafa aduonum , na

18

okyena anopa k a k y ere ohene na wonsen Mordekai wo so,

na w o ne ohene nko opon no ho anigye mu. N a assm no
yee H am an de, n a om a woyee dua no.
C . OHENE HYEE MORDEKAI ANUONYAM

D a no anadwo ohene Ahasweros aniw a saree dwe na

wanna. Cnna om a w okofaa beresossm nhom a bekan
kyeree no. E m u n a w ohui se d a bi a nnipa b i pam ohene
tiri so pee se w okum n o no, Mordekai n a o k o yii asem no
adi de gyee ohene n kw a.
Cnna ohene se: " A n u on yam ne akatua ben n a Mordekai
a n ya eyi h o ? N a asom fo ho buaa no se: "W onyee
hwee m m aa no e.
Cnna ohene se: " C n d e m eye biribi
m am a no, momfre H am an m m a me.
N a wokofree H am an bae. N a ohene see no se: Den na
wonye onipa a ohene pe no nidi no? N a H am an kae ne
kom a m u se: H ena po n a ohene pe se odi no ni sen me?
N a H am an see ohene se: Onipa a ohene p e no nidi no
m a wom fa ahentade a ohene h y e no m m ra, n e oponko a
ohene tra no so a wode ahem m otiri bo ne ti no, na womfa
atade no ne oponko n o n h y e ohene asafohene akese no m u bi
nsa, na womfa n h y e onipa a ohene pe no nidi no, n a womma
ontra oponko no so m fa kurow no abonten so, n a wompaem
nni n anim se: See n a w oye onipa a ohene p e no nidi n o !
Cnna ohene see H am an se: K a w o ho kofa atade ne
oponko no senea w oase no, n a y e saa m a Y u d a n i Mordekai
a ote ohene ponkese m u no, nnyaw nea w oaka no mu
b ia ra ! N a H am an fa a atade ne oponko no na ode hyee
Mordekai, na ode no tra a oponko no so de no faa kurow
no abonten so, na opae dii n anim se: "S e e na w oye onipa
a ohene pe no nidi n o !
N a Mordekai san b a a ohene ponkese no m u, n a H am an

19

yee ntem de nkommodi koo ne fi, na o kataa ne ti, na

H am an k aa nea ato no nyinaa kyeree ne ye re Seres ne
n'adofo nyinaa, na n anyansafo ne ne yere Seres see no se:
" S e Mordekai a woafi ase rehwe ase n anim y i fi Y u d afo
asefo m u a, ende w orentum i no na m m om ase n a wobehwe n'anim .''
D . OHEMMAA NO ADESRE

N a H am an yere ne n anyansafo ne no d a so rekasa no,

ohene m piafo bae se wobefa H am an ako opon a E ster
atow no ho. N a ohene ne H am an bae se wone ohemmaa
Ester rebenom nsa. N a wote nsa pon no ho no, ohene see
E ster s e : D m ne vvadesre, ohemmaa E ster, n a womma
wo na den na worehw ehwe? Se eye ahenni no fa po a,
wode bem a w o !
nna ohemmaa E ste r buae se: "O hene, se m anim aba
nyam w anim, n a se eye ohene ani so a, m a wom fa me
kra nkye me se m ade a mesre, ne me m anfo se m ade a
m ehwehwe: n a woaton yen, me ne me m an, se wonsee yen
nkunkum yen, nnw ere yen, na se wotonton yen y e nkoa
ne m fenaa a, an k a m em ua m ano, nanso otam fo no ntum i
nhye ohene ade a ebesee no anan m u !
nna ohene b u aa ohem m aa E ster se: " h e n a na wasi
ne bo se obeye saa no, n a ehe na owo? N a E ster se:
O nipa ohohiafo ne tam fo no ne H am an, obone y i !
nna nketenkete k ita a H am an ohene ne ohemmaa no
anim. N a ohene soree abufuw m u fii nsa pon no ho koo
ahemfi turo no m u. N a H am an sore g yin ae se orepa
ohemmaa no k y ew , efise wahu se ohene no abo ne ho
pobone. N a ohene san fii ahemfi turo no m u b a a nsa pon
dan m u no, H arbona, m piafo no m u biak o, k a kyeree no
se: "H w e , dua a H am an a y e am a M ordekai a okaa ohene
20

ho asempa no si H am an fi, ne tenten si b a sa fa aduonum .

N a ohene se: Monkosen no wo s o ! " N a wosen Haman,
d ua a wasiesie am a M ordekai no so. N a ohene abufuw
ano dwoe.
D a no a ra n a ohene Ahasweros de H am an, Y u d a fo
tam fo no fi m aa ohem m aa E ster. N a M ordekai baa
ohene a n im : efise E ste r a k a nea one n o n ta m te no akyere
no. N a ohene y ii n e p etea a ogyee H am an nsam no de
m aa Mordekai.
N a Mordekai fii adi fii ohene anim , ohye ahentade birisi
ne fufu, ne sika abotiri kese no, ne nn w era p a ne otankokoo
atade yuu. N a Susan kurow no dii ahurusi, na won ani
gyei. N a Y u d a fo no n y a a hann ne an igye ne ahosspew ne
nidi.

8
MOGYA DANSEFO SAMUEL OTU
HO AS6M
A . SAMUEL OTU WO TA K Y IM A N T IA

M ogya dansefo ne onipa a wokum no k w a a emfi bone

titiriw biara a w ays. to da bi a, ogye a obi g y e Onyam e
di anaase adanse p a a obi di wo Y e su K risto ho no nti
w okum onii ko no ss m ogya dansefo.
Samuel O tu a yereb ek a ne ho assm y i wui ss m ogya
dansefo. Saa onipa y i fi A kuapem kuro bi a sde L a te no
mu. Okoo sukuu w iei m a w oyii no ss okyerskyersfo.
N e yere din de S ara Y a a g o ; ofi L a te ho ara.
N kurow a Sam uel O tu ne ne yere ye e m u adw um a wo
Asante no mu bi ne Agona. A fe 1899 m u w oyii no fii ho
koo T akyim an tia, saa kurow yi nso wo A sante ho ara.
T akyim an tia asase no y e N kw anta hene dea, nanso nnipa
21

no de, woye ohene b i a ade K w am e B o a k y c no nkurofo.

Ohene K w am e B o a k y e te K um ase, enti w o tu u abofo ss
ankaba no am annee s e obi de anyam esem reba T akyim antia.
M m uae a efi K w a m e B o ak y e n k ysn b a e no kyere se
Oburoni panyin b i reb a K um ase, enti T a k y im a n tia hene
ne n e gyaasefo n y in a a m m ra m m ehyia no.
W areka no, w apse se a n k a Sam uel O tu ne ne yere ka
wan ho ka, nanso O w ura O tu see wan se : " S e m o ne mo
m m a nyinaa p e anyam esem no am pa a , ende m etwen mo
n a m oaka aba, efise m erentum i m fa m e y e re ne me m m a
nka n a m erentum i n n ya w wan nso. E n ti akyerew
nhom a de m aa ne y e re ne nuabea, n a ade n o h yee T a k y i
m an tia hene nsa se am fa no nka K um ase, n a se wodu ha a,
am m a w ankakyere a b a b a a no faako a B a se lfo asem patrew
abafo no te, n a am fa nhom a no nkam a w an m u biako a ne
din de Owura R am seyer.
A b a b a a no ankodu K um ase da, nanso ane ahene no ne
ne nkurafo n yin aa san baa T a k y im a n tia asram abiesa
akyi.
A n k y e watee se A san tefo ne Aborafo reko, enti Samuel
O tu somaa ne nuabarim a bi a ade Sapan s e anka Kum ase
nkotie m u yiye. D a a osiim no ara a w ia na T akyim antiafo kyeree Sam uel Otu. E ye Y a w d a bi, asram
Oforisuo da a eto so 5, afe 1900.
Sapan nso annu K u m ase; oduu B e k y e m no, wakyeree
no tra a ha ara kosii se Oburoni bi kapse n a k y i kw an gyee
no bio. B ere a w akyeree Sam uel O tu n o n a nG yere ka
asu. Obae no, obehui se nnipa a h y e w an fi m a to.
Ohuani bi kura ne m m a baanu no, n a onipa foforo reyiyi
wan imeema.
Sara Y a a go de n ano too m u sui. Oresu saa no, opan yin bi kita pom a de kyeree no so se: " G y a e , na ware22

nlcum w o; w ope se w o ne no ka de a, w o ne no beka.

A fei wade Sam uel O tu kaa apanyin b i fi.
Saa bere y i n a obi aw u wa kurow no mu, enti wade
Owura O tu kaa a y i no ase de no katraa funu no anim dii
no ho few se " W o de, wo ho ade ye ; w oanya obi a arebesoa wo k ete a k o g ya wo asaman. Ofi ha no, wodii
n 'ak yi de no b a a n ankasa fi bio.
W am aa one ne yere no traa ase, na afei waboaboaa wan
nneema nyinaa an o beguu adiwo bisaa wan s e : " Ne nyinaa
ni ana? Sam uel O tu buae se "D a b i, m agyaw kakra wa
Dweso ne A g o n a . N ano sii no, wasesaw nneema no
nyinaa soae na wosee Sam uel O tu ne ne yere se: "M onsare
m ma yenka. N nipa di wan anim, na ebinom di wan
a k y i de wan kaa apanyin foforo b i fi.
W oduu ho no, wade O wura O tu baa duam; n a ne yere
nso wade nkansankansan guu n anan. A k y iri y i w ogyaa
ne yere no n a se nsu anaase biribi ho h ia ne kunu a, wahwehw e am a no.
B . SAMUEL OTU WU

A d e kyee no, w obetw aa Samuel O tu ne ne yere ho

hyiae, de to o O w ura O tu anim se w obekum no. nna
obisaa wan se: " D e n n a m aye na m orebekum me y i ?
W obuaa no se: "W u g y in a yen nnyedua y i ase sare se
yennyae abosonsom n a yemmesom N yam e. Nso Asante
de, Tana anaase abosom n a yede y e aman. Bio, ahene
B o ak ye a h y e se w onkum ahaho n yin a a ."
W o gyaw wan kae no, Samuel Otu ne ne yere baa m pae
se: Aw urade, yesre wo, w o na w oye anwonwade horow
bebree. W o n a w ugye nyisaa ne akunafo, na wopopa
wan a wosu aniw am nusu, na w uyi awerehofo awerehow
ka. Y esre wo, g y e yen senea w ugyee D aniel fii g y a ta
am oa mu, na w u yii Israelfo fii Misraim no. nne yegyina

23

owu ne nkw a mfinimfini, enti yesre wo se g y e ye n fi yen

amanehunu mu. Nanso enye nea yepe na nea w ope n a ma
emmra m u.
W owiei no, Samuel O tu kasa kyeree ne yere h yee no
den se onnsuro koraa, n a omfa nani nto O nyam e nkutoo
so.
D a a wohyee se w obekum no no dui no, w ob eyii no fii
ne 3'ere ne ne m ma ho. Sam uel O tu ne ab rafo no koe
mmarima so na wansuro owu koraa. W ade no koo fa
baabi k otw aa ne ti. W on a w okokum no no san b ae de
sekan no ne so m ogya bekyeree ne yere se: Y eak ok u m
wo kunu ab a.
Mpofirim oyare p a tu w boo ne m ma no mu b iak o a wofre
no O tubea, n a w ann ya ahooden p a b i d a de kosii se owui.
kyee kakra no, Sam uel O tu yere kobisaa T a k yim a n tia
hene se: "N a n a , nnipa a ekokum me kunu no a n k y e na
wosan bae. Mesre w o, so w otuu no fii duam ansa na
wokum no a n a ? "
Ohene no buaa no se: W o y e abofra, se worenkum wo a,
na wotu wo fi duam , n a se wobekum wo a, ende w ontu
w o. E y i kyere se nnipa a ekomaa Sam uel O tu funu so
kotow kyenee no san tw itw a a ne nsa bio ansa n a woreyi
no afi dua a wode no boo m u no ho.
D a a wokum O w ura O tu no ye osram O forisuo da a
eto so io , afe 1900.
Faako a wokum Sam uel O tu ho no nne woasi asoredan
fefe bi de asi ho de rekae no. Osram Ahinim e d a a eto
so 14, afe 1931 mu na wobuee saa asoredan no ano.
N nipa fi A sante nkurow pii so kohwee a fa h ye no bi.
Samuel O tu yere nso fi L a te koe bi.
Oburoni a obuee odan no ano no anom nsem b i ne se:
Afei de, mmusu ne otaa ne otan nni ho bio, efise Aw urade
Yesu de ne dom ne ne n h yira adorn T a k yim a n tia fo .
24

DODE AKAIBI
T e te mmere no m u no, ohemmea b i bedii N kranfo so a
w oka natirim oden ho asem k a k a a, ensa. S a a ohemmea
y i din de Dode A k a ib i. W okyere se N k ra n hene Dkai wui
pe, n a ofaa akongua no ne ho nneema n y in a a na odii ade
no.
Saa ohemmea 3d asem y e den se na atirim oden pa ara na
ode dii oman no so. Mo nyinaa nim senea osebo ho ye hu
na oye keka; eto d a bi a, ohemmea y i h y e ne nkurofo se
wonkope aboa y i b i w o vvuram nkyere no animono m fa
no mmre no.
N ahantan ne ne ti bone nti, bone b iara n ye no yena.
W okyere se da bi ohyee m m erantewa n y in a a se wonkunkum oman no mu m panyim m a ne n k w ak oraa nyinaa.
N n ipa no hui se m m ara no mu y e den dodo, nanso wosuro
ohemmea y i nti, w oyee nea okae no; ofi b iak o pe mufo na
won de, wose w orenkum won akora na wode no siei.
E y i akyi an kye na ohemmea no hyee oman no se wonsi
ahemfi mma no, nso wom m fa sare nnkuru so na mmom
dote no bi ara. N n ip a no nhuu saa ade y i bi da, enti
wopee se anka w otew atua, nanso ohemmea no ho hu
nti obiara antum i an ka hwee. A fei w oye no den? Che
n a worekogye eyi ho afotu? W oakunkum kurom ho
nkw akoraa n}dnaa: nanso obiako no hye ho.
Mm erantewa a wode won akora siei no koo ne ho
kobisaa no nea wonye. Wokoe no, wode too n anim se
asem a ohemmea no de ab a nen, nso wonhuu odan a wode
date kuru so da, wokoka nso a, gye o tw itw a won ti, enti
wonye no den?
25

A k o ra no hw ee kom m na ose: "M o k o a, monkoka

n kyere N an a Ohem m ea se omfa date ah am a a wade kuru
ne nananom ad an so no b i nkyere m o n a m onhw e so m fa
n y e ne de n o ." N so onim se ohemmea no rennya bi m fa
n kyere wan.
A m p a wakae de asem no katoo ohem m ea no anim.
A sem no ye e ohem m ea no nwonwa n a ohui se akw akoraa
ara na obetum i a k ye re wan nyan sa a ete see; enti akae se:
"N k w a k o ra a no nsae, obi da so te ase, enti m onkahwehwe
no m m ra n a w o n tw a ne ti preko."
W akahw ehw ec ak o ra no de no bae, nanso one ahemmea
no b eyiyii a ra m a a ahemmea no nsam gowee, enti ogyaa
asem no mu.
E fi eyi so n ti n a w ap aw m panyim fo baason de tra ahene
ho wa kurow b iara m u no.
E y i a k y i a n k y e n a ahemmea D ode A k a ib i hyee mmara
fo bi bio, nanso awerehosem ne se e y i n a ede nawiei bae.
Dhyee ne nkurafo no se wonkotu abu ra bi m m a no wa be
paw bi a ede A k a ib ik en k e so. nna nnipa no se: "N a n a ,
bepaw so de, yerek o tu abura y i g y e se y e tu m a eka fam
y iy e ansa n a y e a k a to nsu, nso yen n i n n ad e." N a ano
nso se "M u n n y iy i m e nsem ano, nea m aka no na
m onkaye.
E n ti nnipa no kofii ase tuu abu ra no a d a biara ahemmea
no gyin a wan a k yi. Nanso an k y e n a wohui se adwum aye hunu n a w areye no, enti wahwehwee akwan bi a
wabefa so am a ahem m ea y i agyae wan haw.
D a bi ahem m ea no te ha ara abehwe a, abafo anim ni:
"N a n a , yeakato, sebe, obarima bi wa ab u ra no m u a ose
oremma ye n tu b io ." Ohemmea no b o fuw ii, na afree ne
nhenkw aafo ne wan kaa abura no so. O duu ha pe, na
ose: "O n ip a a ose aremma m unntu abu ra no wa h e ? "
N a nnipa no se: "O w a abura no ase ha p ee." nna ose:

26

 M onhwehwe ham a m m etw etw e me nko abura no mu

na m enkohw s onii k o , orekasa y i na oreye apae, enti
wokohwehwee ham a de b egyaagyaa no koo abura no ase
ho.
Oduu ase ho pe, n a nnipa no to w gyee so se: ho ara
n a w o b e k a " ; n a wosesaw abo to w guu no so abura no mu
ho. K urom hofo tee no, won nso beboae m a wode abo
no pern no a ra kosii s e abura no y e s ma. Won a ekaa
akyiri no nso b a e n a a ye m a no, wobetotow won abo no
guu so m a choree siw a ewo ho de besi nne.
Se ewiee ohem m ea tirimodenfo y i ni. N ea ne m anio no
yee no n ye de, nanso natirim oden ne ne nhyeso na ema
ebaa saa.

10

AB6 NE NABUSUAFO AKONGUA

PERE
A

K u n tu n !

K u n tu n ! K u n tu n !
a h e n k w a a i.
i u i e na asem no adu so.
a h e n k w a a ii.
A sem ben?
a h e n k w a a
i. W orekodi abe ne n abuasuafo akongua
pere ho asem no.
a h e n k w a a ii.
nde m a yen kotie b i e ?
a h e n k w a a i.
W ie, m a yenko e !
(Wosii k w a n so koe, w oduu ahemfi na eho ayere s e
eta. E sian e se eye asenkese nti, m pakanfo ne adekurofo n y in a a abehyia.)
o k y e r e w fo :
N keresia wo ho?
n k e r e s ia :
M ew oh o.
T W I - A K . 6 ----- 2

27

Adobe wo ho?
a d o b e :
Mewo ho.
o k y e r e w f o :
K ube wo ho?
k u b e :
Mewo ho.
o k y e r e w f o :
Kokosi wo ho?
k o k o si :
Mewo ho.
o k y e r e w fo :
A be wo ho ?
a b e :
Mewo ho.
o k y e r e w f o :
Mowo adansefo ?
n k e r e s ia :
Y iw , m adansefo ne Adaafo.
a d o b e :
Y iw , Akuapem fo A k y em fo ne K w aw u fo.
k u b e :
Y iw , Krobofo.
k o k o si :
Y iw , Nkranfo ne A d aafo.
a b e :
Y iw , Akuapem fo, F a n tefo ne Krobofo.
o k y e r e w f o :
Adansefo, m um fi adi. O kyeam e, nkurobofo no nyinaa ahyia, enti yebefi asem no ase.
o k y e a m e :
Nkeresia, bebo w o nkuro.
n k e r e s ia :
N ana ne m panyin , minim se enye se m isua
nti n a wofree me kan nanso enye me p an yin n ti, na
mmom me ho hia a ehia nti. N kran sare so na m ete,
na eho de, esiane osekan a eda m atifi daa nti, am a m ato
ape. N anso mo ara m om fa mo ani m m ehw e me
A kuapem , A k yem ne A d aa. Sho na m idi tum i ankasa.
O biara a w aba ho abehu m e nso nim se A d obe a k y i b a
turodoo ne me. Meboa oman y i wo akw an horow pii s o :
se ehia won tekrekyi, k yew , oprae anaa ham a a, m em m a
wommo k a nkoto no baabi, n a m m om m ede m ahaban
ma wode y e bi. Se m an ye no saa a, an ka omanfo
bebo eyinom ho k a daa.
e se n :
T ie o o ! Tie oo! H uhuhuhu! Asem a k yi kasa!
W ie! W ie!
n k e r e s ia :
Esiane se m eboa H u afo nti, A d a a fo nso befaa
me b a a won asase so. Okom bere mu wodi m 'aba, me

o k y e r e w f o

28

d u a nso, wade y e nkyeree, de si apa, h a ta so borade

hono. Mmorasa ne A borafo nsa horow y i ba k a dodo,
enti m em a wan bi de si anan m u, ete se nsafufu pe,
w ofre no akudono. S e m eboa a, N kranfo ne Adaafo
bedi me adanse. N ea m ewa k a ara ni.
eseN :
T ie o o ! T ie o o ! H w e! H w e! H uhuhuhu!
o k y e a m e :
Adansefo m m ra.
o k y e r e w f o :
A daafo, m onkasa.
o d a a n i:
Am pa, yene Nkeresia trae akye, aboa yen
am anya, akyere yen adw um aye, obae y i, k a m m aa yen
m an m u da.
o k y e r e w f o :
Adobe, b ra beba w o nkuro.
a d o b e :
N ana ne m panyin , enye ahohoahoa nti na
m igyin a ha yi, na m m om me nokw aredi n ti, nnipa
akese na ene me ba. Me na wade m e y e aham ankaa
dua, odan so mparow, apakan a ahemfo tra mu, antweri,
m pa ne agua, na m m ofra nso de m e y e kyerenkye.
D aw a m m ea de sina ahene y i nso me n kyen na efi, eno
na wade ye sesea, sanee ne aprae. N sem m a a wade y i
m m oa yi nso me ho aham a na wade ye. N ea mewa ka
ara ni.
e se n :
T ie o o ! T ie o o ! Tie, oo! Asem a k y i kasa!
o k y e a m e :
W adansefo m m ra!
o k y e r e w f o :
K w aw ufo, m om m eka nea munim adobe ho.
o k w a w u n i :
Am pa, adobe aboa yen pii, eno nti na yedii
n a k yi bae yi.
o k y e r e w fo :
K ube, w o nso beba wo nkuro.
k u b e :
Me de, wope se w uhu me a, hwe K okosi. Mempe
me ho asem nti, wonnim me yiye, nso me ho wa mfaso
pii. N kranfo hye da kotase m aba senea Akyem fo
hwehwe nwaw no. W ade m ahaban y e pirebi, de
nwene kete nso. Me ho y e fe, efise m ete se obi a ahye
ahenkyew . Esiane se mempe ahaw nti, asase a woa29

g ya w so n a m ififi, nea K okosi ne A b e m pe no. W ade

me y e akorow , sem odan so. O b ia ra nim se m ene
panyin, efise m ebae akye. W o n n y a nhuu odum ne
apopaw ho m faso no, n a wonim m e de me y e nneem a
horow pii. W o n y a nsa fi m e m u : w otum i nom no
amono, n a w onoa nso a, eye ad u an m u. N okw a, y iy e
a m aye om an no daoso, enti, ak o n g u a no me ara n a ese
se wade m a m e. N ea mewa k a a ra ni.
o k y e a m e :
A d an sefo m m ra.
okyerew fo :
K rabafo, m om m eka n ea m unim wa K u b e
ho.
o kro bo n i :
A m p a , K u b e betraa y e n n kyen yi, w akyere
yen n n w u m a a eho w a m faso pii. N tekrekyi a yede
n ahaban y e no sik a a ye n y a fi m u no, enye ano bi ni.
OyE onipa p a nso, enti m unsusuw no ho yiye.
o k y e a m e :
Ofoforo m mra.
o k y e r e w f o :
K o k o si nso mmebo n e nkuro.
o k y e a m e :
A d e a k y e : ayaasem an aba, enti yebesare s o
atu a h y e n naw atw e a k yi.
B

(Da no dui, nnipa a ebehyiaa ahernfi ho nye adewa)

:
O kyeam e, tie m a ento b a g u a no se A b e n e
n abusuafo akon gu a pere no so a r a n a yebae nne y i.
Ebinom aba w an nkuro dedaw, enne n a adu K okosi so,
enti m a ento no s e ano nso nkasa.
o k y e a m e :
M panyin, m o sempa. K okosi, se N a n a se
nen.
k o k o s i:
N a n a ne m panyin, agua 3 d de mempere bi, n a
wan a enim m e y iy e no n a ebedi m e ho adanse. Me de,
me kurom ankasa ne Sao Tom e. A sase a m epe ne
m poano an hw ea so, kw ae m u nso w ape m asem. Me

o h e n e

30

ho ade b i ne s e mpoano m fram a a etumi bu dua biara

no, m e de, entumi me, na nsu nkyenenkyene no nso
ntum i nsee m'ahooden. Mema Abibirim ha mpoano
baab iara y e fe, na m ete s e osraani a mewen kyere nea
m fram a bo ko. Mab a y e akeseakese. ho hono no
m u ham a no Indiafo de y e ntampehama, de y e kete
sew dan mu. M 'aba m u wo nsu dede a nnipa de kum
won sukom. Maba a ennyinii no nso Nkranfo, Adaafo
ne H uafo tw itw a de fra aburow we. S e enyin nso a,
wode m u aduan no y e ngo b i a eho wo mfaso horow.
E siane m e ho mfaso bebrebe nti kwaemufo nso agye
me a to m u a wongoru m e ho koraa. Nana, m ano asi
ha.
okyeame Adansefo
o k y e r e w f o :
Nkranfo, m om m eka nea munim w o Kokosi
ho e .
o k r a n n i:
N ea K okosi k a 3d nyinaa worn; ofi po ak yi
na obaa ye n man m u ha, nanso yen N kranfo de, yene
no ara n a ete yen m poano ha. Nokwa, K okosi y e :
onye obofo na waboa yen pii. Y en mu won a wonko
po no de, ne ho adwum a ara na woye, nso okura won
ara senea ese.
o k y e r e w f o :
Abe, wo nso, m a yentie wo d e .
a b e :
N an a ne m panyin a m oahyiam , mesrs mo muntie
me kakra, ebia me ho b e y s Nkranfo ne A daafo ahom etew, efiss wonnim me ho hwee de, nanso aman a aka
no m u fa kese no ara nim me, bu me. Me din ne A be,
nanso m asefo gu ahorow senea nnipa gu ahorow y i
ara, ebi ne Obedam, Abehene Abefufu ne Abetuntum .
Metase me ho nsem no m aka no mmiako mmiako se
ebeye na obiara behu me, ate me ase. Me ho nn eema
aduasa akron no nyinaa ara ho wo m faso: wode m ahaban anaa berew bo pata, y e oprae, de kuru asese so, ne

mmra.

3i

ade, ne mfinimfini dua no w ofre no mpopa, wode g y e

ban, y e berapae, pata, osese, nwene kenten ne asrene a
wode hini dan ano, wode y e o gyaten a wode tu kw an
anadwo de ko nkran ne ade. Mewo biribi a etu a me
mfinimfini a ete se ofrankaa a wofre no mmerenkensono
a se enyin a, emu pesew dan berew m a foforo besi
anan mu. Se edu nnaponna b i a, wode mmerenkensono
yi h yeh ye adan ne afi mu. Mebo abe a wofre no bem u,
eye odawuru kan a apae n a eno a k y i apesew, na aba
nketenkete a hwee nni m u ab etu atu a ho, na b eye se
asram abiesa n a abere. 8bo bem u abien, abiesa, anan,
anum ne asia po wo dua biako ho. W ofre m 'ab a no
abe na em u de no wofre no adwe. W onu na woasoa a b a
ofie de ab eye nneema horow pii. ho nam no wode y e
ngo di, n adwe no nso wobo koton m a Aborofo m a wode
di dwum a horo pii. W ade m a b a y e nkwan a wofre no
mmekwan, eye de se. Me ngo no nso, wode bi y e samina, k y ew bi nkyego m a m m ofra ne ahiafo sra, de ta
kuru m u de gu aduan ani di. M adwe nso wade y e
ngo a wofre no adwe ngo a m m ea de sra won tirim ,
mmofra nso sra. N go ne ad w e a wode ko A bu rokyiri
no nso wode y e nneema horow pii a ebi san beso yen
so wo ha. W otow me tw a m e y i m e mu nsa a wofre no
nsafufu. N sa y i gu ahorow : ene nteteasa, ntunkum ,
ntunkuntiri, nsa pa ne kokuro. A bibifo ne Aborofo
nyinaa nom . Gye de se. W ode m ahaban ne me ho
nwura ne m e mmEwa y e aduru. Me ho biribiara nni
ho a wom fa n ye biribi, enti na w oka se: " A b e ho ade,
kyiri bi a, di b i, A n k a m eko so m akeka nsem kakra,
nanso enso ha ara.
o k ye a m e :
A dansefo mmra.
o k y e r c w f o :
A kuapem fo.
o k u a pe n n i :
N ana ne m panyin, nea A be ayan abesi yi,
32

m ig ye m idi se mo a ra m oate bi, enti m erentoa m m a

enware. N okw a, A b e dw um a a wabedi a m a ye n no
m ek a a , na erekoye se o g yin a ha nti, n a m erehoahoa
no. M panyin, nokw a, A b e ab eye bi am a yen.

(Wowiee kasa no, mpanyin sore bo agyina, na ankye na

wosan bae.)
A k y iri e ?
Bokoo.
k y e a m e :
Yekoe de asem no kotoo A b erew atia anim a,
nea ono nso de m aa yen ne se yen ka nkyere m o se okwan
a m ode baa ha no k y ere ahomaso, dw ae ne ahope.
den nti na m oreba na m u gyaw mo nuanom K ete,
Mfia, N tom m e ne Nton pa? Mususuw se m osen nnua
n y in a a nso munni kom a na munni d u b a a (abaa).
A hohoahoa y i ase ne den? wom m oafom de, nanso
m ebu aten y i m am a mo. E n ti Aberew a se ohw e m u a,
A b e n a akongua no y e no dea. Omanfo, enye se muse
nen?

o k y e a m e

b a g u a f o

o m a n f o

e!

N ana, meda ase!

A B e:

A g y a , meda ase!

A k o ra meda

ase!
:
Moko yi, m onkotra
m ansotw e pii nye.

o h e n e

ho

asomdwoe m u oo, na

11

DR. JENNER HO ASEM

SENEA EYEE NA WONYAA MPETE ANO ADURU
A basem a yerebeka y i fa nantw i yarefo bi, ab aaw a bi a
o kyi nufusu, abarim aa b i ne oduruyefo bi a ode Jenn er ho.
W on n y in a a traa akuraa ketew aa bi ase wo Enyiresi

33

asase so; nanso oduruyefo Jen n er y i nyansa nti ogyee din

se; nc n yan sa n ti ne m fefo ad u ru yefo a ewa aman no mu
boom bekyee n o sika adebo n e d w ete m prete bi, R ussia
hempon ye re nso bekyee no petea, Germ anefo nso de
naw oda ye e am an no d a titiriw bi n a bere a ahempan
Napoleon ne E n yiresifo reko no, oduruyefo Jenner y i m a
o gyaa nnipa b i a w afa w an nnom m um .
N a den na
oduruyefo y i ye e a enti nnipa ne am an horow dii no ni
s e e y i?
T ete m m ere n o m u no n a a ya re b i a wafre no m pete no
ta a y e nnipa y iy e . Se eye n n ip a a, wantaa nni, n a se
ankum w o nso a, na a g y ig y a w m p etetw a wa w anim ne
wo honam so nyin aa. Oyare y i ho ade bi nso ne se woyare penkoro a, entum i n y e w o bio, enti kan no se abofra
bi yare b i ofi b i m u a, w ah ye d a m a one ne nuanom bo
adabum n a asan wan.
A duruyefo ye e ho biara se a n k a w obenya ano aduru,
nanso woanhu n ea ede oyare y i b a , enti w ayee ye e a,
anye ye. Sworn worn no, d a b i ab eaw a bi de ne nsa ho
kuru bekyeree oduruyefo Jen n er se amma no aduru.
Oduruyefo no hw ee no, na eye boram pete m u ahorow b i a
etaa y e anantw i. Saa oyare y i y e akose m pete, nanso
ano n y e den pii. A fei nso Jen n er a te se saa ayare y i n y a
y e m m eaw a a e k yi nufusu a , m p ete ankasa ntum i n y e
wan b io ; nanso sa a bere y i n y in a a n a ate no se atesem b i
nko, obiara nnim nokw are a ew om ; en ti oduruyefo y i kae
se abehwehwe m u.
A bofra abarim aa b i a w afre no Jim m y Phipps na ode
no so hwee. N ea oyee ne se asesaa abofra y i nsa ho n a
afei ade abeaw a no nsa ho kuru no m u nsu no bi yee mu.
N nansa b i faa so pe na boram pete y i b i yee abofra y i nso;
nanso boram pete de, ano n ye den n ti an k y e n a ne ho yee
no den.
34

Saa ade y i na oduruyefo y i y e de dii kan, eyi n a afei

orebeye nea eye hu no. Jenner pEe se ohu am pa se
boram pete a a ye J im m y pen no nti mpete ankasa rentumi
n y e n o bio ana. E n ti ade mpete ankasa m u nsu sesaa
ab o fra no, nanso anye no hwee.
Jenn er yee saa ade y i m pen pii de sa hw ee se ewom
a m p a an a na ohui se eye am p a no, akyerew ho nhoma de
k a a n ea w ah u : akyeree se wode borampete m u nsu sesa
obi a, m pete ankasa n tum i n ye no bio.
A n k y e n a saa ade y i a Jenner hui y i trew wiase nyinaa
m a a nnipa hui se eno a ra ne mpete ano aduru. Enti
nne y i m p ete n ta a n y e nnipa bio se kan no na yen taa nhu
nnipa a wan anim wa m petetw a. Se saa ayare y i b a ara
p e a , w ade boram pete m u nsu besesa yen. E n ti te se
od u ru yefo Jenner ne J im m y Phipps ne nantw i yarefo no
ne a b ea w a a o k y i nufusu no n a abegye yen n k w a nne yi.

Nsemmisa
1. Mo m u baahe na waasesa w an pen?
2. K y e r e senea w ayee no fae.
3. W asesaa w o no a k y i n o eyee wo den?
4. S e od uruyefo b a se obesesa yen a, ese se y e tra ha na
asesa y e n anaase ese se yeguan? D en ntia?
5. So e y e se oduruyefo Jenn er de mpete mu nsu sesaa
J im m y Phipps? (Saa bere no na boram pete a wose
eye w o a , ebi ntum i n y e w o bio no y e atesem ne susuka,
nanso m onkae se eno n ti se abofra b i yare bi a, w ahye
d a m a ade san ne mfefo.)

35

12
DAMON NE PITIAS

{.Pittas ye ohene Dionisio deduani a worebekum no.

Pittas nadamfo Damon kosre se anka ohene Dionisio
nnyaa no, nanso okae a, amfua, na ohene Dionisio sii
no gyinae se otwa ara na etwa se Pitias wu.)
1. FAAKO A ASEM YI BAE: OHENE DIONISIO AHEMF1
:
N an a, w adaw orom a, ow u de, minsuro, nanso
m esre w o ara m a me kw an nsre ade biako ansa na
w oam a w ade me akoto afiase.
d io n is io :
B isa na eho w o k w an a, m em a wo. N n ip a a
srebew u de, abosom no m m o won ayam onwene n a ye n
ahem fo nso ense se yekam e m o biribiara.
pitias N ana, mesre wo a ra m a me kw an nkohwe
m abusuafo anim m m ra an sa n a woakum me. Me
yere ne m e m m a ne m 'abusu afo a medo won nti, m esre
w o a ra m fa eyi nkam e me.
d io n is io :
N a Pitias, se wo k u ro w m m sn ha baabi. N a
w u gye di se odeduani a ote se wo, w obegyaa wo se ko
wo kurom kohwe w abusuafo anim ansa na san b ra ha?
D abi, m erentum i nye sa. M inim se m igyaa wo a,
m a n iw a abien y i renhye wo ho bio da. N henkw aafo,
m om fa no nkoto dan mu.
pitias N an a, m ehye wo bo se, wodom ma meko m edi
wo nokw are m asan m aba bere a w obehye me no
pepeepe.
d io n is io :
M ete nea w oka y i nyin aa, nanso minim se m o
nneduafo bohye de, enka hw ee. Me nsa an ya a k a w o
y i, w oaw ie.

p it ia s

a,

36

:
Nana, me nso m a me kw an n k a sa kakra.
M esre w o ara m a m adam fo y i kw an nko n a minsi
n 'a n a n mu nkoda afiase ha nkosi se obeba.
d io n is io :
N a w obeye den ahu se obedi n asem so asan
a b a am pa? Susuw ho y iy e o, na w oam fa w o ho ankato
am ane mu.
d a m o n :
Se Pitias h y e w o b o se abesan ab a a, ende na
m insuro bio, efise ano de, ohye ba a, odi so.
d io n is io :
Se m em a aka n a eba se wansan am m a bio a,
w ubesi n'anan m u akow u? K a e se m e D ionisio nso
asem biara a m eka no m idi so. K a e se se P itias
ansan am m a a, m em a w oakum wo asi n 'an an mu.
W o te ana?
d a m o n :
Nana, w adaw orom a, se nnawotwe ab iesa du
n a P itias ansan am m a a, wonkum me nsi n anan mu.
d io n is io :
S y e me nw onw a se wopene so se wobeko
akod a afiase nnawotwe abiesa na se ehia m po a, woasi
w adam fo y i anan m u aw u. Pitias, ko kohwe w abusua fo no anim senea w o k a no, nanso kae g yin ae a yeasi
no. M ehye wo nnawotwe abiesa pepeepe, enti h y e m e bo
se edu a, wobesan aba.
p it ia s :
N ana, m eda w o ase. E d u a, m esan m aba.
D am on nso, meda wo ase ara. Bere no du a, m esan
m ab a senea m ahye w o bo no, na m am fa w o ankoto
ohaw bi mu.

d a m o n

I I . N N A W O T W E A B IE S A A T W A M

(Damon gyina ohene Dionisio Anim)

:
Dam fo, na w adam fo Pitias wo h e ?
: Nana, nokw a m innim , nanso se ote ase n ko ara
de a, minim se onam kw an so reba.
io n is io :
E n ti woda so g y e w adam fo y i di ara?

d io n is io
d a m o n

37

: Migye no midi dodo.

Onipa a oreye adi wo huammo no? Kae se
okyena wannu ha a, wobekum wo asi nanan mu o!
nye hwee, wamma a, na biribi na asiw no
kwan.
Eti, wopere no mmiako mmiako, ebia wafi
nsa yi, wo de, wuwu a, emfa ne ho o! Wasem ye me
ahometew, nanso okyena, otwa ara na etwa se wokum

d a m o n

d io n is io

d a m o n

d io n is io

wo.

(Osraani bi baa ahemfi ho ne ohene Dionisio bekasae).

: Nana, aberante bi gyina opon ano pe se obehu

Dsempa,
(Obuee opon no maa Pitias hyen mu.)
Pitias, w'anim ni?
Ei, Pitias, wo de, mani nni wo so bio.
Yiw, Nana, iqani aguan mu, nanso wunim se:
nnipa bi ko afunsie na woamma ntem a, na abo worn.
Minnim da wobesan aba bio. Mprempren
yi ara na mereka makyere wadamfo Damon se onsiesie
ne ho na okyena wawu asi wanan mu. Na den na
ema wokyee see yi?
Yereba yi de, na po so nye koraa: ahum ne
mframa mma yen hyen no nnya ne ho akaye. (Odan
nani kyere Damon) Enti mpo, Damon, misuroe se meba
na woakum wo dedaw. Asem to wo a, na ato wo ne
wadamfo ntia, na anka ense se mehaw wo koraa.
: Pitias, me de, eyee yi nyinaa na minim se wobeba
ara. Me de, minim wo nti me bo ntu. Wubisa ohene
a, obeka akyere wo. Yewo sukuu mu na yefi yee
nnamfo, enti minim wo yiye.
Nanso Damon, mamanehunu yi mu na mahu se
wo ho hia me ampa.

O SRAAN i

w o.

d io n is io

d a m o n

d io n is io

p it ia s

m a om m ra.

d io n is io
p it ia s

se

d am o n

p it ia s

38

Nne yi de, nnamfo pa a ate se mo nka. Yen

ahemfo ntaa nhu nnamfo a ede won nkwa bsto ho ama
won ho won ho see. Pitias, se wubetumi ahye me bo se
migyaa wo a, worenye me ne m'ahemman yi bone bi a,
ende mede wo ho mekye wo kosekose.
Nana, eyi de, m'ani nni so. Mehye wo bo se, se
wugyaa me a, merenkoye biribiara mfa nhwanyan
oman yi.
Cnde mede wo ne wadamfo Damon nyinaa
ho mekye mo. Mo adamfofa ye me fe: Damon pee se
ode ne nkwa to ho ma wo. Wo nso wunim se woreba
yi okum na wobekum wo, nso woansuro, nne yi de,
nokwaredi ne akokoduru a ete se mo de yi nka.
Nana, meda wo mmoborohunu yi so ase.
Pitias, minim se hiada mu adamfo ne adamfo
turodoo, enti se nea mewo nyinaa befi me nsa na manya
adamfo nokwafo a ote se wo de yi a, anka erenye me
hwee.
Nsemmisa
1. Pitias nadamfo no din de den?
2. Den nti na wansuro se obesi Pitias anan mu?
3. So wo nso wowo adamfo bi a wunim ne tirim saa?
d io n is io

p it ia s

d io n is io

p it ia s

d io n is io

13

8DENA KUROW HO ATETES8M BI

Atetesem bi ka se obofo bi a wofre no dena a otraa
Eguafo na ohyee kurowa enne yefre no dena anaa Eltnina
no ase. Saa obofo yi taa kyinkyin kwae no mu ko akyirikyiri. Da bi a owo wuram reye ha no, ohuu mmoa bi
kyenee, enti oboo ne tirim se obedi akyi. Odii aky ara
39

kosii ne nsa kaa mmoa no kunkum won ara yiye, nanso

awerehosem ne se oyerae a wantumi ansan anko fie.
Esiane se otaa ye saa nti, ne yere ne ne mma a wagyaw
won wo ofie no anni nkommo.
Ohui se ade asa na orentumi nko fie bio no, okoo nanim
kakra koboo osese bi ho daa ho, na oboo pata de ne nam
guu so yee ho se nnan so na se okoye ha a, ade nam no bi
agu ho na ode nkae ako fie. Da bi ohuu bepow bi akyirikyiri, na okoe se okoforo. Oreko no, okofii asubonten bi
so. Esiane ss onni okorow nti, osianee asu no ara koduu
baabi, afei obema nani so a, epo na eda ho yi. Ehu
kese kaa no ma osan nakyi preko pe koo nnan so ho.
Osusnw saa asu kese yi ho, na eyee no nwonwa se ade
a ete see wo ho na onhui da, nsoo ho dae da, enti ogye dii
se ebeye obosom bi.
Ade kyee no, osan koo ho, kotoo obosom no din Benya,
siesiee baabi gyaw no. Ogyaw wiei no, otwaa asu no,
koforoo bepow a da no ohui no. Opee se anka ohome
kakra, nanso saa ade a ohui yi haw nadwene ara. Afei
obema nani so a, ahyemma bi na ereba yi, eyi koraa ne ne
kankan. Ehu nko ara nti ode ne nsa kataa nani ampe
se ohwe, na ode mmirika koo ne sese no ase. Afei na
ne yere ne ne mma bo afi ase tu, efise onkyee saa da, wadi
beye nnawotwe, nanso wonhu okwan ko a wobefa so atiw
no akohwehwe no. Wosusuwii se ebia wayera kwan, anaa
aboa bone bi atetew no, enti woyee nayi te se wawu pe.
Nna kakra twaam no, wobehwe a, ono na oreba yi.
Wamfa nea ofa ha daa nti, mfumfo anhu no, enti obeduu
kurotia no, oman no boa twi na obiara guanee susuwii se
oye osaman. Odii won akyi ara koo kurow no mu na
obisaa aberantewa bi nea enti a kurow no abo twi no.
nna orekyere no se: Esiane se wokoe akye na womma
nti, yesusuwii se woawu. enti yeaye wo ayi awie." nna
se

40

opaa serew se: "Minwui e, mete ase. Eyi akyi ankye na

one nabusuafo tutu kotraa n'akuraa foforo no ase.
Nnipa no hui se obafo yi ne ne mpan ne mma atutu no,
wan tirim yee won keserenene, nanso ekyee kakra no,
wogyaee ho dwen. Obqfo no nso duu n'akuraa ho no,
ade ne bosom no kyeree ne nkurofo, hyee won ase se
obiara mmmo ne ho mmusu nnkotia mu:se obi kotia mu a,
ebefa no. Akyiri no won aduan sae, enti osomaa nnipa
ma wode nam koo Eguafo gua so kosesaa aduan, na woresan aba no, won nnamfonom dii won akyi se wabehwe won
akuraa ho. Nnipa yi san koe, kokaa nea wohui nyinaa.
to da bi a, Eguafofo no bi ba ho besra won na ebinom
tutu betraa ho koraa.
Bere a Eguafo hene hui se dena reye kurow kese no,
anye no de, na oboo ne tirim se obesee kurow no. Enti
otuu abofo ma wokoka kyeree obofo no se obegye biribiara a efi dena ba Eguafo ho tow. Obofo no ne nabu
suafo, ne ne manfo hui se enye okisi nko ne ne bedew ni,
enye tow no nti na oreye, na mmom se obegu won man no
nti, wopenee so tuae afe a edi kan no. Towgyefo no ba
koe pe, mmarima a ewo akuraa no ase no hyiae se worehwehwe okwan ko a wobefa so agyae saa tow yi tua, nanso
ansi baabi, efise nkurow a atwa won ho ahyia no mu biara
ampe se woboa won, enti wogyaa mu.
Afe dui na ohene abofo no san bae bio no, nnipa no
ampe se wotua kosii se abofo no yii won hu se, se woantua
a, wobesoma akofa nnipa foforo afi Eguafo aba abeka
won agu po no mu, na esiane se nnipa no suro se po no
befa won nti, wode amemenemfe tuae.
Ankye na da bi ogya too obea hiani bi fi mu wo po no
ano pee na wogu so redum no, eyerew kotoo afoforo de
mu ma anka kurow mu no rehyew. Obea no de ahoyeraw
booyerede kosaw eponsu no bi se ode rebedum. Okosawee
4i

kaa asem. Mede Hebri, Hela ne tete Roma kasa frafraa

m'asenka mu de kyeree me nimdee, nanso mihui Emfa
nnipa no ho: ete mete mframahyen mu, enti ese
misian meba fam ansa na nnipa yi ate nea mereka. Enti
afei migyina anyamesem mu asem a ese: *Mo ara momma
wanbiribi nni 1'noso kaa asem kyeree wan, maa masenka
yi faa wan asetra homekaa wan nkoka ne nguan ne
nnuan ne ntade ho asem. Da bi nso mekaa wan abafo ho
asem. Nkuraa no bi ase nso mihuu atekye ne ntontom,
enti migyina so mekasae se: Ntontom, nwansena ne
mmoawammoawa a ehaw mo yi te Onyame abafo a
anam wan so kyere mo se nyarewa atwa mo ho ahyia.
Nsuwansuwa ne atekye a etaataa ha yi na ede ba, enti
monhwew na moanya ahoaden.
Yewa nnipa bi nso a wafrefre nnipa betie masem.
Da bi a wakae no, wakatoo aberewa mmaboraa bi a ose
onni bobaa biako po a ode sa gya nti aremma asore.
Enti mesomaa nnipa ma wakaa anyan bree ano ne nnipa
mmaborafo a etete see nyinaa, na afei woiii ase baa asare.
Eyi kyere se yede yen kristosom boa wan a ehia wan a, na
wotie yen asem.
"Akuraa bi ase nso mihui se nnipa no ye ahiafo koraa,
nanso won nkyen ara na mekosoee. Nnipa beye baawotwe anaa duna eda odan biako, na awaw nti watoto ho
mfensere nyinaa mil. Enti mesree wan se wamma minliie
mfensere biako. Da a merekra wan maka no, mekae se:
'Afedan sesee meba a, mekan nkoka dodow a mowa,
nkoka nam ye, nkesua no nso ye ma mpanyin ne
mmofra.
Afei Aggrey fii ase gyee din. Oware woo mma wo
Amerika ha de, nanso ne were amfi ne nkurofo, na osan
baa Sika Mpoano ha beyee adwuma. Obae no, wade no
yee Achimota sukuu kunini no so panyin no adiakyiri.
se

se

se

se

44

Efi saa bere yi na Aggrey gyee din se Abibifo ne Abo

rofo ntamgyinafo, na akasakasa ba Abibifo ne Aborofo
ntam a, ono na osiesie. Aborofo aye no bone pii, nanso
wammu emu biara, na one won traa ho fefeefe.
Okyinkyinii wo Amerika ne nifa Afrika no, Obibini a
oye nti, Aborofo taa nyafi no. Eye a, ne nnarafo bisa no
se saa ade a woye no yi ye no yaw ana, na ose: "Eden,
eye me yaw, nanso ese se okristoni biara di ne ho so, enti
woye me saa a, memma me bo mfuw na mmom meserew.
Se woyaw me bio a, meserew ara, na se minya meserew
mpenabiensaaa,wontuminyawmebio. Nansonakwantu yi mu one Aborofo pii hyiae a wode won ho too no so
boaa no nso. Okaee yiye a owura Kemp ne ne yere yee no
woOguaa no daa, na eyi ma otoo ne boase maaAborofodaa.
Baabiara a Aggrey ka asem no, Abibifo ne Aborofo pii
boaboa won ho ano betie no. Nsem a okae no mu pii ye
semode ahorow a efa ne man Afrika ho, efise ne man ne ne
Bibini a oye no ho anye no aniwu. Ode mmodenbo kese
boa ma wohyee Achimota sukuu ase, na afei osan koo
Amerika bio se okosra ne yere ne ne mma, na wasiesie ne
ho ama sohwe foforo. Nanso oyare bone bi boa no okwan
mu na esiane se adwuma dennen ama nahooden so ahuan
nti, wantumi anni oyare no na owui wo Amerika afe 1927
mu, July da a eto so 31. Owui na wadi mfe 52.
Yeahu senea Aggrey doa ne man ne senea ode yee
nahiasem se obesiesie Aborofo ne Abibifo ntam daa.
Bio nso yeate senea ne kasa mu otaabo Abibifo ho semode.
Semode ahorow a oboe no mu abien ne nea edidi so yi.
Nea edi kan no fa okore ba ne nkoka mma bi ho, na nea
eto so abien no kyere se eyee na wonyaa agyirae a yeaka
ho asem dedaw no.
45

3. Okwan ben so na onam twetwee nnipa baa asore?

Se obi nim aberewa bi wo baabi a obetumi aboa no
senea Aggrey yee no a, omfi ase nye biribi mma no
nnawotwe yi mu ara.
4. Oburoni ben na Aggrey ne no sianee kan?
5. Den nti na wofree Aggrey ntamgyinafo?
6. Den nti na Aggrey kae se obi a ope mmea baasa anaa
baanan aware no di nkoko mma aduan?

15

SAREM NS8M
I. TAMALE

Tamale.
Opepon da a eto so 25,1939.
Madamfo pa K wasi,
Afedan sesee a woyii m'agya baa ha a ose ode me reba
no, nokwa, me were howee. Cyee me se ebia mani
rennye ha, efise efi ha ko Akuapem ware, na meregyaw me
nnamfo nyinaa wo fie. Nanso asram abiesa pe a mabedi
wo Tamale ha yi mu mahu se eha ye koraa sen senea
misusuwii. Merebeka wo hanom nsem kakra, efise minim
se wobepe se wobete Ntafo a yete won mu yi ne won
asase ho asem.
Daa yi minim se Nkran ne Kumase kwan ware, se na
ebi wo akyi: wudu Kumase a, wosan twa akwansin ahanu aduasa ason kwan ansa na woabedu Tamale ha.
Wufi Kumase reko Tamale a, wutwa Firaw wo baabi a
48

ede Y e ji, n a w o tw a mfiri ne n n ip a a ete m u no asu se

w oye no w o S e n k y e no ara.
T am ale y e k u ro w a eye fe n a em u tew , nanso esono
kurow y i ani k o ra a na esono m o honom nkurow no. S h a
de, ekame a y e se adan no n y in a a y e nkuruw ankuruw a,
eye fadan a wode sare akuru so iefeeie. W oko afi no b i
mu a, w obehw e n a wode nw oraa ad i afasu no ho adwini.

SAREM ADAN
W otaa y e saa ade y i wo adan no ano kw an no atifi ne
nkyenkyen.
W oatu abu ra kese bi wo kurow no ho pee a osu to a,
wotw etwe nsu gu mu, eyi na kurom hafo n yinaa nom.
W oka se adenkyem te saa ab u ra y i mu. W okyere se
anopa ne anad w ofa na wofi adi, wose wukohu won se
wogu nhw ea no so a, wobeka se nnunsin, nanso adenkyem
y e mm oa a won ho y e hu, w okyere se won ano y e akeseakese na won se ano y e nnam se. M epe se anka mihu saa
49

B. OKORE NE NKOKO MMA BI HO ASCM

" D a bi, obarima b i kokyeree okore b a de no fraa ne

nkoko m m a yen no. Om aa one nkoko no aduan koro.
B a a b ia ra a nkoko no ko no, okore no ko bi. One won bom
hw ete, goru, y e biribiara.
" E y i n a da koro dam fo b i a obesraa obarima y i huu okore
a e ye se wadan akoko no ne ho dwiriw no n a osree dam fo
no se onuna onso n h w e se obetum i am a okore no atu
ana. E n ti osoo okore y i m u m aa no so koo soro se;
Okore, bo w o ntab an m u na tu n a w onye akoko.'

N anso okwa, okore no sii ne ti ase huu nkoko m m a a

worehw etehwete no, osian b a a won nkyen bio. D am fo no
am pene ara n a osan m aa no so bio de no k o g yin a a odan
atifi k a a asenkoro no ara, nanso antetam . Okore no
46

san baa nkoko m m a no n kyen bio. nna afei damfo no

fa a no ne m prensa so de no fii kurow no m u kogyinaa
abotan bi so se: Okore, trew wo ntaban m u n a tu . Ne
m pen abiesa y i so n a afei okore no tu koo ahun mu soro*
soro a obi anhu no b io. 1
A ggrey wiee ne k a sa no, ode afotusem 3d taa to se:
" M e nuanom A bibirim m a, woboo yen Onyam e seso.
N so nnipa pii b u ye n se nkoko m m a. W odi saa ye,
efise yen mu pii bu yen b ra se nkoko m m a a wohwete fam.
Yenw iinw ii daa, n a nea ye n mu binom k a ara ne se Obibini de, w oye den a ra a , w oye Obibini. W o ne Oburoni
n y e pe. N ea nnipa a ete see ani g y e ho n a woso ho dae
ara ne m m ea b aasa a n aa baanan aware. M untie! Mmea
dodow aw are y e nkoko m m a aduan, nanso m onye nkoko
m m a, enti m ontrew m o ntaban mu m fa O nyam e m m oa so
n tu nko soro nkosi se m ubedu peye m u !"
N ea ode ne b e a eto so abien no k y ere ne se:
" n ye akansi bebrebe n a eye biribi p a wo wiase ha, na
mmom adw um aye m u biakoye. E y e se yene yen mfefo
bom y e adw um a. Senea ense se O bibini k w ati Oburoni
y e biribi no, se nso ense se Oburoni k w ati Obibini ye
hwee ara n en ." h a n a ode sanku aniw a yee m fatoho se
"sankubofo bi b etum i de sanku aniw a tuntum no nkutoo abo dwom am a a y e de. Ofoforo nso betum i de fitaa
no nko abo dwom foforo ama a y e de sa a ara. Nanso
nea ode aniw a fitaa ne tun tum no n yin aa bom to dwom no
na ne de y e de k o ra a ."
Ode eyi kyeree se: A b ib ifo ne Aborofo bom a, n a wobetum i a y e ade p a b i a m a asase yi.
Nsemmisa
1. A ggrey w u i n a w adi m firihyia ahe?
2. A hotew ho fo ben n a otui?

47
/

m m oa yi, nanso w sm raa yen kwan nko abura y i ho koraa

n a obi ankoto mu. Sohori bi nso wo ha a otaa pase abonten. So woahu sohori pen ? N anan ne ne kon wowaree,
okoron po sen m 'a g y a n a ne soroko b e ys anam m on asia.
N nipa a ete T am ale h a ne nkurow a a tw a ho ah yia no
m u no ye D agom bafo.
W on adwum a titiriw ne kuadwum a n a wobo ho mmoden
se. Tam ale kurow no ho nsase n yinaa y e m fu w nko ara.
A d e titiriw a w otaa d u a ne ode, woko m fuw no m u a, nea
w uhu ara ne se nko a woabobo no scsa so fefeefe, ne nyinaa
aksse y e pe, n a w ofua ode no wie a, na wode nh aban akata
so de obo ato a k yi. N h aban no m a asase no m u y e fokyee
n a ode no afifi ntem . Gha de, wobo nko akese, na senca
m aka dcdaw no ensam a fu w no mu kw a senea w oye no mo
ho no, na m m om esesa so fefeefe. W ohw e a, eye fe se.
W okyere se okuafo bi tu m i bo nko b eye ohaaduon u dakoro.
Nnonkom ha de obarim a biara a w adi boro m fe dunsia
tu a to w bi afe biara. A m antam a sik a worn n o m u de,
obiara tua siren abien n a nea ohia wo no nso siren. Wode
sa a sika y i siesie oman no. Wode b i sisi a ya re fo adan a
nnipa ko ho kowowo m paane, kogye nnuru ne ade. Ebi
nso wode siesie akw an , sisi sukuu adan, y e nsubura ne
ade. Ahem fo a w onni ho kw an se w ogye to w anaase wodi
asem no nso saa sik a y i b i ara na wade tu a won ka. Gye
m e se eye ade p a koraa.
W obefa omena nhom a ahorow a efi yen h a b a mo ha
no nnawotwe m u penkoro, nne na w oreba abefa, enti
mesi ha ansa. A k w a m m a no mu sre w a g y a kw an na
bedi nnansa bi wo me n kyen na m ani a g yin a wo.
M ikyia w o papaapa.
Me,
W adam fo,
K w adw o.
5o

Nsemmisa
1. H w e asase m fonini a ewo wo nhom a a k y i no. H wehwe
nea K um ase d a n a kyerew nkurow a w u fi K um ase reko
Tam ale a, w o fa so no n yinaa din.
2. Den na ema T a m a le ne yen ha nkurow bo abira?
3. W ugye di se sohori a woka ne ho asem y i soroko beye
anammon ahe?
4. Nko ahe n a D agom ban i kuafo b i tu m i bo da koro?
5. T ow a w ogye w on no wode y e den?

II. SAREM AKYIRI NOHO

M a

d a m fo

pa

K w asi,

Tam ale,
Oforisuo da a eto so 10, 1939.

W o nhom a no k a a m e nsa b eye adapen abien ni. Meda

w o eho nsem a w o k yerew me no n y in a a so ase. E ye me
y a w se wuse w orentum i m m esra m e asram asia akwam m a
no mu, nanso bo m m oden hw e se eb ia w a g ya bem a
w oaba B u ron ya m u ana. Saa here no m po n a Eha kwan
no so ye.
M ekyerew w o y i a k y i y i m atu kw an mako tirim
noho bio. D a b i wosom aa m a g y a N avro n go na oreko no,
ode me koe. M erebeka wo nneem a a yeh u i okwan m u ne
kurom ho ho asem.
E fi Tam ale ko N avron go y e akw ansin oha ne dunson.
Y esii kw an so no, y e h y ia a nnipa pii a w otete m furum so
reko mfum. A fu ru m biara a w ubehu no na nkenten
abien sensen n a k y i : biako sen ha na b iak o sen ha. Nkenten y i mu na wode nnuan gu de ko g u a so. Esensen
ho saa no, na ne w u ra no san te no so. Mmoa no ade yee

5i

m e mmabo, efise a n k a ense se wama m furum nketewa

y i soa nnosoa a ete s e e . Yekoo yen anim k a k ra no,
y e h y ia a nnipa a w atete apanka so, wade m m oa nhom a a
w a a h y e no nnuru a h y e h y e apanka no ti ho kasaa. Y eh yia
w an saa a, na nnipa a etete wan so no de wan am an ka
w u ram kosi s e yeb etw am , efise wosuro m firi no huu a eye
no, n a w ate a, w ohuruhuruw .
W oreka y i, mfiase no d e n a sare atenten a agunguan ne
n n u a nketenkete bi n k o n a wuhu. Y e a n tw a asu kese
b iara a ete se F ira w a ewa Y e ji no, nanso nsubanten
abiesa b i wa akwan no m u a tw ene deda so. Saa twene
y i nso n kye, se asusow tu e na nsu no yiri a, esee tw ene yi,
e ye saa a, n a afei w ade akorow n a etw a.
B a a b i nso de, w u bedu n a akwan no ho n yin aa y e abotan
n tra n tra a bi nko ara, efise ebeye asram anan ni osu ntae
da. Sha de, asram O forisuo m u na asusow tue.
Misi h a ara k y ia wo ne w o nnamfonom.
Me,
W 'adam fo pa,
K

w ad w o

Nsemmisa
1. E fi Tam ale ka N avron go y e akwansin ahe?
2. H w e asase m fonini no so na boba nkurow a wufi
T am ale reka N avron go a, w ofa so no din.
3. M furum no soso den?
4. D en n a wade a h y eh ye apanka no ti ho?
no h uuye no a, den n a waye?

Se w ate mfiri

5. D en nti na ape mu de, wade tw ene gu nsubanten no so?

6. D en nti n a afifide b iara nni N avrongo m fikyisase no
so?

52

III. NAVRONGO
T a m a le ,

Kotonim m a da a eto so i 6 , 1939.

M a d a m f o p a K w a s i ,

M ani da so s e w o nsa a k a m e nhoma horow no nyinaa.

M erekyerew w o n n s nso bio atoa so a k a w o nneema a
yekoh u i N avrongo no h o asem.
Y e n n y a nnuu N avrongo no de, na adan a yehu no
n yin aa y e nkuruw ankuruw a n a wode sare na akuru so,
nanso yeduu nea mise afifide biara nni ho no de, na afei
wode dote n a ebo ad an so. E d u anadwofa a, n a nnipa no
ako tratra dan no a tifi di nkommo. W ode nnua b i atwitw eri adan no ho a wode foro ko atifi ho de sian nso. A fi
b i wo ho a emu ad an b e y s anum anaa ason an aa nea eboro
saa. Chofo m pe nneem a abien abien, anan an an, asia
asia, aw otw e aw otw e ne ade, w obu s e eye mmusu. Adan
abien biara ntam no wobehw e n a woato fasu fi biako ho
akopem biako a okwan ketew aa bi da mu, n a saa okwan
k etew a y i ara ne ofi no ano kwan. E d u anadwofa a,
w oka anantw i ne nyem m oa no nyinaa b a adiwo ho na
woahini okwan no an o papee. Se woanye no saa a, akek a b o a bi, s e ebia p a ta k u anaa osebo anaa g y a ta mpo tum i
b a adiw o ho anadw o bekyere mm oa no bi.
Y erek o no, m isusuwii se N avrongo kese b e ye se Tam ale,
nanso hwe, enso k o raa, nso kurom hofo b e y e opeduonu.
Ehofo m pe n kyek yereso koraa: agya biara ne ne yere ne
ne m m a tew won ho k y e k y e won fi tra m u, enti wuhu se
afi no sam ho bebree. W on dwum a titiriw ne kuadwum a,
n a obiara p e se otra n 'afu w ho. Asusow tu e ara p e a,
wodow n a w oadua w on nneema, efise afe no fa de osu nto
koraa, enti w udua b irib iara a, enye ye. W odua aburow
ne atoko, n aba no y e nketenkete: ennu mo ho aburow no
53

po. Eho de, w u d u a borode an aa am an k an i anaa mo

honom nnuan no b ia ra a, erenye y e . N n ip a no aduan
titiriw ne akasa, n a w onh uu fufuu da. W o d i ntommo ne
asE ne nkate nso.
Nanso enye k u a d w u m a y i nko n a w oye, woyen nkoko
soa won de won b a T a m a le ne K um ase beton won. E y inom na w oye n y a sik a d e tu a won to w de b i sie na okom
b a a, wode ato b irib i adi.
Misi ha ara k y ia m o pii.
Me,
W adam fo,
K

w a d w o

N sem m isa

1. Nnipa no y e den n a woforo ko won ad an no atifi?

2. he na won a n a n tw i ne nguan da, n a den n ti na woto
won mu?
3. Den nti n a N a v ro n g o nso?
4. Nneema ben n a eho a k u a fo no dua?
5. W oye den n y a sik a tu a won afirihyiatow ?
IV .

SANDEMA

T am ale,
K itaw o n sa d a a eto so b, 1939.
M a d a m f o p a K w a s i ,

Merekyerew w o n n e bio de aw ie N avro n go akw antu

no mu am anneebo. Y e w o N avrongo no, m a g y a n'adam fo b i de yen koo k u ro w b i a ede Sandem a m u kohwee
ayarefo dan b i a ewo ho. E fi N avron go ko ho nware.
Y ed u u ho no, n a od u frafo no ho nni k w a n koraa, efise
Oburoni duruyefo no an kasa aba ha da no, enti yekoe
.

54

k okyiaa kurom ho hene, kohwee ho sukuu no k y ia a

okyerekyerefo n o nso.
Sandem a sukuu no kopem gyin ap en a eto so abiesa n a
m m ofra no d a ofie ho. Mekoo won sukuu dan mu no,
m ihuu nneem a b i a eyes me nw onw a: nkongua a mmofra
no tete so no wode dote na eyee n a w oakw aw ak ita ho
fefeefe. Opon a w okyerew so no nso saa ara, n atifi ho
nko na wode m m erete ato. O dum ne nnua akese biara
nni ho; wokofa m m erste no fi a k yirik yiri, enti ne bo y e den
na wontum i m fa n y e nneema pii senea w oye no m o ho
no.
A k y iri no a y e n y a a odufrafo no ho kw an no, ode yen
koo ne fi kokyeree yen odan fefe b i a esi ne m fikyiri a
anwum m ere otra m u g y e m fram a k an nhom a. y e odan
kurukuruw aa b i a wode sare akuru so a y e abrannaa atw a
ho ahyia. N k o n gu a a wotweri m u ne opon ne m m enkyi
ne nhoma a d ak a m po wo odan no m u : eyinom nyinaa nso
wode dote n a eyee, n a woakwaw ho a y e ho torotoro
fefeefe.
Yew o sukuu no m u ho no, m ehwee m m ofra no kenkan
nhom a mu, nanso m anhu asem b iak o pe a minim anaa
mete ase, efise wode won kasa a eye B u ili n a ekyerewee.
Mmofra no nso k a biribiara a, m ente, nanso woponee no,
me ne won koboo bool m a eyee yie. E y i a k y i no mmofra
no bi de won bem m a bekyeree me, ehonom de, abofra o,
opanyin o, o b iara nim tow . Se m in yaa bere m isuaa tow
a, an ka mepe.
Ahohuru wo Sandem a yiye , enti tw ak o to na mmofra
no hye ko sukuu. E binom nso m m oa nhom a na esensen
won ho.
Sandem a h a de, nguanten ne m m irekyi na m m ofra no
de tua won sukuu tow , efise sika nni h a koraa. Sika a
mihui wo N avrongo g u a so ara ne nkapre nketenkete bi a
55

w o k yere se du y e m m an an an, ete se m o ho m m an abien

no, nanso esusuae koraa.
W o d e w ani behu sa a nneem a y i a , n a w obete nea m eka
3d n y in a a ase, nanso enye den ara a, m am a w o a te ehanom
nsem kakra.
M ikyia wo ne w awofo.
Me,
W adam fo pa,
K w ad w o.

Nsem m isa
1. N n eem a ben n a K w a d w o hui wo Sandem a sukuu no
m u?
2. D en nti na m m erete bo y e den wo Sarem?
3. N neem a ben na od ufrafo no de dote a y e wo ne dan mu
ho?
4. S ik a ben n a N ta fo d i a ebi nni yen ha? D en nti na
wonni sika akese?

16

AMANYD HO AGORU BI
I. OHENE ANW IINW II NE NTENYI

(Okonguasoani bi de akongua best bo tna ohene. Ohene

pue a bamkyinii di no so. Ohene betra ase.)
N a nnipa a egu me m an 3d m u y i koraa won ho
m faso ne den? m inhu dckode ara a woye.
o k o n g u a s o a n i:
N ana, n k a sa. wo nea obiara ye, m a
m em frefre won n a obiara m m ekyere wo nea oye.

oh ene:

(Okonguasoani no fii adi kofrefree nnipa horow no bae.

Obiara bae na okura nea ode ye nadwuma na wobetra(raa ohene ho senea wodi asem a, woye no.)

ohene:

A , okyeam e, tie m a ento bagua no se, enye bone

56

bi, na te se am anyo no a ra na yegu so. N a nnansa y i

m ihu se me nkurofo a y e mmerew kakra, eye me se
wonyere won ho n y e ade se kan a y e y e m m ofra no.
W use minwie asete y iy e , enti woye adw um a na me na
m inhu a, wom m eka n a m intie.
o k y e a m e :
A , baguafo, m o sempa!
o k y e r e m a
): 0 , N ana, me
m m om de, se w u h u m adw um a daa. A n sa n a omanfo
b eh yia ha no g y e se m ayan m akyene y i ansa. Me de,
m ekasa nso a, obiara te ase. Mmerante ne m m abaa
nso regoru aw ia o, anadwo o, mempa m u. M eka m a
kyene y i a, na w otum i saw. Anigye m u o, awerehow
m u o, m adw um a y i ho hia. Se Nana pe se mede nkra
b i ko baabi nso a, akyen e y i nka me ho a, menko da.
o h e n e :
Odom ankoma kyerem a, w asem worn!
n h o m a so a fo
: Nana, nne y i a obiara ahu
nhom akyerew , na m panyin ne mmofra ne won nnamfo a
ewowo aman so di nhom akyerew yi, N ana, minni ho a,
an ka erenye y e koraa. Me na mesoa nhom a horow y i
nyinaa m ikyin m em a A ban.
o h e n e :
Nhom asoafo, w o de worn!
o k u a f o
: Nana, me m m om na m eye
ad e kese koraa. Se m annow mannua nnuan, aburow,
ode, borode ne ade a, an ka yebeye no den wo oman 3d
m u? Se m ennow a, anka yebenya aburoduan ne
fufuu adi?

(N'akyene hye ne mmotoam

(okita nhoma)

(Okita ne nkrante)

opeewADiFO (Oso ne hweaseammo): Nana, me nso

migu m adwuma so nea eye den. Me na mi}dyi nneema
nkakrankakra tonton ma nkuraasefo. Enye me na
meko meba a, anka biribiara a nkuraasefo hwehwe no,
asikre o, asaawa o, taa o, burogya 0, gye se wotwa kwan
ba ofie beto.

o b e a

s ik a

d w u m fo

N an a w'adaworom a, adw um a a meye,

57

enye eni. Me n a m em a m m ea ho y e fe. N a n a yerenom

nsonkaa, konm ude ne ade, me ara na m eye.
o k w a m pa efo :
N ana, tafrakye, kan a ye n nananom
traa ase no, se oman y i m u te ni? H w e akw an horovv
a me ne m apaafo apaapae, mfiri dodow a eko na eba
yi, enye yen nti a, an ka ehe na enam? Y e n nananom
tete nammonkwan no ara na yenam so nne y i a, anka
yete sum mu. A k w a n a m epaapae y i nti, n a nnipa a
efi am an so tum i b a yen nkyen.
oh en e :
Okwam paefo, w asem worn!

II. ASEM NO AW EI

N ana, me nso m adw um a y e den se.

Mmofra dodow y i n y in a a , me n a m ekyere won nyansa,
kyerew ne kenkan. N hom a horow a nkurofo kyerew
koma wan nnam fo wo am an so, me nti n a w otum i kyerew. Me na m em a kurom ha tew , m ekyere mmofra
ahotew m a wosua senea wosore won ho. 6 n y e eno nko,
meka nsase horow so nsem kyere won nso, anwonwade
ahorow a Aborofo re ye wo A b u rokyiri m fram ahyen
ne ade no, m e n a m eka ne n yin aa ho asem kyere
mmofra.
o h e n e :
Owura, w om m oa! Y e a n n y a w o a, anka erenye
ye.
o f ir ik a f o :
N ana, m e nso tie me de k a k ra a m erebeka
yi. O kyerekyerefo a okasae m prem pren a ose n ani
abue y i de, ne de ara ne se oka m o am an horow so nsem.
Me nso de, obi p e a, m itum i mede no ko ho pee. {Wadan ne ho akyere obea opeewadifo no.) A w o, w o nneema
nketenkete a w otonton y i, enye me n a m etwe mifi
mpoano ba? (W adan ne ho akyere nhomasoafo no)
Barim a, omena nhom a a wosoa k yin , k y e k y e wa nku-

O K Y E R eK YE R eFO :

58

row so no, enye m e n a mede m afiri kofa ansa n a wode

k y in k y e k y e no? (W adan r ia n i akyere bagm no)
B aguafo ne sukuufo, enye me ara n a m ede m afiri kofa
m o nhoma, m o pensere, mo n tam a ne m o nnuan nyinaa
fi m m eaem m eae ba?
o h e n e :
Me nkurofo, m em a m o dibem , m an ka no yiye,
mihu se obiara y e biribi m a aman y i. Mo nyinaa reboa
m e am anyo.
o f ir ik a f o :
(Oye ne nsa se gyatna afiri s i ho.) Momforo
m m etratra m u n a m em fa mo nko.

Nsemmisa
1. N nipa a ekasae no m u hena na ne k asa too asom koraa?
D en ntia?
2. N nipa horow y i m u hena na onni ho a, erenhia yen?
3. W on m u hena adw um a na w unyin a, w ope se wobeye?
D en ntia?
4. W on m u hena n a onni ho a, anka yeren tu m i ntra ase?
5. So w ogyaw nnipa b i a anka ese se wode won b a agoru
y i mu?
6. Se osofo, od uyefo, otamanwemfo, odepam fo, odwumfo
ne polisini b a a agoru no mu a, anka den n a obiara beka?
7. Y e n nananom bere so no na nnipa horow y i mu hefo na
enni ho?
8. Esiane se yen nananom bere so saa nnipa no nni ho
nti na won asetra te den?
9 So yen nneem m afo y i sen yen nananom adwum aye
anaa won n a wosen yen?

t w i -a k

. 6 3

59

1 7

BASELFO SIKA MPOANO AS8MPATREW

ADWUMA HO AS8M
A
P aulo ne ne m fefo asom afo no fii asem pa no tre w ase fii
P alestin a de k afaa A s ia am an horow pii so. W ofi ha de
kaa E u rop a kurow kese a ede Rom a no m u. S n o akyi
no, nkakran kakra wade kaa E uropa am an horow pii so
nso.
A fe i m untie senea asem pa no trewee ara kosii se ebeduu
S ik a M poano ha, ne senea K risto free asase y i sofo b a a ne
nkyen .
C beye m fe h a ni, afe 1828 mu n a A borafo b aasa b i sii
fam wa N kran m poano. W obedui no, wosiesie baabi wa
O su de ha y e e wan atrae. Asem a wade b ae ne se,
w an nuanom kristofo asom a wan fi Basel se w am fa Asem pa
no m m re Abibirim m a.
W ade anigye fii wan adw um a ase de, nanso w ohyiaa
akw anside ahorow pii. E m u titiriw ne n yarew a bane a
ekunkum wan pii. S aa bere y i de, n a nea A b orafo nim
se ehaw wan ara ne asase y i so m fram a. E b ia nne y i
w a a k yere m o se nw ansena n e ntontom n e n su fi de n y a
rew a pii ba, nanso b eye m firihyia aha ni n a wonnim eyi
biara.
A sem patrew abafo a ebae kan y i nnim se nw ansena ne
ntontom y i nti ese se w ahw e wan ho so y iy e . W onnim
nso se nsu a ani te w m po m m oa bane bi wa m u a g y e se
w aanoa am a ahuru ansa n a wobewuwu. E n ti anni d a bi
n a wofii ase yareyaree. A sram awotw e tw aam no. na
60

(
!

won m u baanu aw uw u. O biako a wofre no H enke nkutoo

n a okae. Asem y i duu A burokyiri no, woboo won tirim
se wobesoma nnipa b aasa bio. E n ti afe 1832 mu, K risto
asraafo baasa y i sii h y en m u, nanso wobedui no, na Henke
nso awu, na adw um a no ho nhom a horow a okyerewee no
nso ayera.

N n ipa baasa a ebae a k yiri y i nso owu ne oyare haw won

ara. W on de, w odii asram anan pe, n a won m u baanu
w uw ui m a ekaa o b iak o a wofre no Riis. O w ura R iis hui
se Osu ho asetra no renye y e nuna no, efise ne nuanom
baanum tonn n a ato to wo ho. Saa here 3d m u ara n a
nnipa b i a akosra A k u ap em k a a no A ku ap em mmepow

61

ne so m fram a ho asem. N ankasa behwee no, ohui se

eho m fram a ye am pa, enti o tu tu betraa Akuropon 1835.
Obae no, ohui se Osufo kasa nko na A kuapem fo de nko,
nanso n a onnya nhui se A kuapem fo ne A san tefo k a kasa
koro.
A kuapem m fram a no gyee o\vura Riis n a oyee n adw um a nkakrankakra kosii afe 1838 mu. S a a bere y i na
wom aa asem patrew abofo b aan u fi Basel b e k a a no ho.
W ane ow ura Riis yere n a ebae. Ono ne O buroni aw u raa a
odii kan betraa kw ae m u ha. Ofi a owura R iis k y e k y e
tra a m u wa A kuropan no w a ha de besi nne.
A n k y e na Riis fii ase tu tu u a k w a n : afe 1838 m u akasraa
K rab a ne A kw am u; n a 1839 m u akahwee A k y e m . Cno
a k y i ade n'ani kyeree K um ase. Oduu ha no, Asantehene
g ye e no traa ha kakra. A ninyann e ne m ogyahw iegu a
R iis kohui wa K um ase no am m a wam pe ha adw um aye,
enti an kye na asan kaa A b u ro k yiri.
de besi saa bere y i n a B asel asem patrew abafo a
w oatota wa ha ano si baaw atw e, nanso na o n ip a b iak o pe
po nsakraa n'adwene nyee okristoni e. N anso R iis abasa
m u an tu na asan bae. Oreba no, wotuu A b ib ifo kristofo
bi k a a no ho bae. W oye A b ib ifo a wotaa won se n koa koo
A m erika no asefo.
N n ipa baasia a w okura oyerenom ne afoforo b aanu ne
obea biako na w oka R iis ho bae afe 1843 mu. A n k y e na
w oyee K w asida sukuu ne sukuu pa fii ase kyerekyeree
m m ofra. Nanso abosonsom fo ne titiriw no, akom fo ne
ade h aw won akw an horow pii so. Bone titiriw a asem pa
trew abofo no hui se ekura oman no na ese se woko tia ne
abosonsom, abayisem , nkoato, asanom ne ahohw i. Se
omanfo no hu se obi de ne ho rebo kristofo no ho a, na
w oabo no bayi akum no.
N anso nkakrankakra wokoo so ara. N ea eboaa Aborofo

62

no ko raa ne T w i k a sa a wotum i sua h u u no y iy e no.

O n ip a a oboaa wan m a w otum i suaa k a sa no hui ne wan
m u b iako a w ofre no Christaller. Ode n e k a sa ho dom
a k ye d e a owo no boa k w an m a w otum i k y ere w nhoma
horow pii wo T w i ne N k ra n kasa mu. E n ti snam no so
n a yen nsa a k a yen nhom a a yegu so rekan yi.

J. G. CHRISTALLER
B

N ea eye nw onwa ne se bere a asem patrew abafo y i reka

asem no, w ayee nnw um a horow pii k a a ho. W oyee
nhom a horow pii wa T w i ne N kran k asa m u senea yeaka
dedaw no. nye eyi nko, wapaapae akw an p a fi Nkran
befaa A kuapem kaa A suogya. W ade nnuaba ahorow pii
fi nsase horow so b a a ha beduaduae. W ofii ase yen
anantw i, duaduaa m ango, akutu, p aya, kafe, kookoo ne
ade mpo ansa na A b a n refi ne de ase. A n k y e na ehafo
nso hui se nnuaba foforo y i ye m a wan.

63

A d w u m a kese b ia k o nso a wofa too wan h o so ne ayaresa, w oyeyee su k u u w a m m eaem m eae nso d e kyerekyeree
m m ofra, n a wan m m ofrayen gyee din w a m patam ha
n y in a a , n a efi h a kosi N igeria mpo A b a n n e Aborafo
agu ad ifo p s s n n ip a a B a se lfo y i ayen wan no sen nnipa
b iara. N kurow foforo a a k y iri y i B aselfo y i p a w de yee
wan atrae k a a A ku ro p an ho ne Osu, O dum ase, Anura,
K y e b i, Begora, A b u ri, N sa b a ne A bokobi. W ayee nnwum a horow pii saa de, nanso wan adw um a so a b a a edi kan
n e asakra a w aasakra n n ip a kom a no.
B ere a asem patrew abofo y i gu wan ad w u m a so saa no,
n a A san tefo nso reh aw S ik a Mpoano am an.
8w a ho wo ho a , n a A san tefo no agye bu m akotoa aman
b i n a wade saa ara tw a a F ira w afe 1869 mu.
S a a bere y i n a asem patrew abofo y i m u baanan wa
A n u m , owura R am seyer ne ne yere ne won b a akokoaa ne
afoforo bi a ode K u h n e. A num fo tee A san tefo n ka no,
w oguanguanee, n a ekaa ow ura R am seyer nom wa akyiri.
W an de, wosusuwii se a n k a w aye asem patrew abafo nti,
A san tefo no ne w an renni no bane so.
N anso na A san tefo ahoran, enti w aam fa w an a n ye hwee
n a w afaa wan nnom m um de wan kaa K um ase. A santefo
dam y i ne A borafo b a a sa w a y i nam wan n an m u kafaa
A fra m sare ani ase a w ia kyenkyem m a m u a ra koduu
K u m ase. A k w a n tu y i m u bre ne am ane, h en a n a obetu m i ak a ? W o n n y a ad u an p a bi nni, en ti a n k y e na
w oh ui se wan b a a k o k o a a a w oturu no no re y e mmerew,
n a anhw e a, akam b eku m no. Nanso A sa n tefo y i anhu
w an m m aba n a ab ofra n o n y a w ui m a wosiee n o w a akwan
m u.
N k ak ran k ak ra wade A borafo nneduafo 3d koduu K u
m ase abanten. W ane asem patrew abafo a wodii kan
k o tra a K um ase, nanso wakae se nneduafo senea da bi
64

wode m pokyere guu osomafo Paulo de no koo Rom a no.

W otraa K um ase ho kyse. A fei da bi a Osantehene tee
se Aborofo reb a no, o gyaa won.
Nnom mum mmoborofo y i san koo fie dwoodwoo.
Nanso nea A san tefo de yee Ram seyer y i nyinaa ak yi
opee se anka osan ko Kum ase bio koka asem pa no kyere
Asantefo. K u m ase ankasa de, w an n ya kw an anko ho,
Abetifi m m om n a wom a okohyee asafo ase. Abetifi wo
Asante ah ye so. R am seyer kaee se wode won reko
A sante n a A b etififo huu won no, w osuu won, enti womaa
no kw an no, ode anigye kese na ekoe. A betifi adwuma
no nso koo so n a an k y e n a woyee asenkyerefo sukuu wo ho
de k aa Akuropon de no ho.
A k y iria k yiri y i, owura Ram seyer n y a koduu Kum ase.
A fe 1896 m u A b a n buee okwan m aa asem patrewfo koo
Kum ase. O w ura R am seyer de anigye kofii adw um a ase
wo ho n a a n k y e n'adw um a y i so a b a trew fa a A sante
nyinaa. E n ti saa onipa a Asantefo ye e no ayayad e p ii y i
ara n a ode asem pa a ene nnepa n yinaa m u adepa no komaa
won. Oyee n atam fo mpo y iy e senea A w urade hyee yen
no.

18

MANDOMBI
A . OYARE BONE BI

Nneem a horow pii n a ema ahemfo g y e din : ebinom de

y e nyansa ne nniso pa, na ebinom nso akokobiri a wode
dii won m an anim kodii nim oko bi mu. Y erebeka A bibirim h a hene b i a ogyee din ho asem ; nea Ema ogyee din
y i y e ade pa b i a oye m aa ne man. Saa ohene y i din de

65

Mandombi, na ewom nnipa a odii won so no y e abosonsomfo de, nanso n ankasa de, oye okristoni. Odii hene wo
K o n go kurow bi a ede B a n za M anteka mu.
K u row y i y e aguadi k u ro w kese n a akw an pii besi mu,
n a nnipa fi mmeaemmeae beton nneema na woato nea
ehia won nso wo ho. E d u g u a da a, na kurow no m u keka
nnipa a efi am an so a b eh yia ha no m a kurom ho y e
k itik iti. Nanso bere a asem a yerebeka y i b ae no, na
kurom ho biribiara asakra, nnipa kakraa b i na ewo gua
no so, obiara were ahow n a eye se ehu a k a won. E fi den
so?
Oburoni bi a otaa b a g u a y i so behuu nsakrae a a b a no,
okobisaa ohene M andombi se: "A se m ben n a aba?
E beye nnawotwe abiesa ni a m ebaa h a no de, n a nnipa
h y e gua y i so m a na obiara ani agye, nne nso de, w osua
na obiara were ahow .
Enna ohene no rebua se: E i, wo de wontee? Oyaredom bi aba a erekunkum nnipa. Eye hu se, m a yenko na
kohw e.
Ohene no de no koo ofi b i m u kokyeree no n n ip a b i a
etete odan bi ase: obiara afon a y e nyam oo n a w uhu won a,
w obeka se beye nnaahc ni wonnidii da. W ontum i nsore
n n yin a won anan so n a n n a ara na woda. O yare b i a
w ofre no tonkom da no n a a y e won, na worewu a ra ni.
Ohene no de no koo baabi b io de m m ofra bi kokyeree no,
won nso, oyare no a y e won saa ara.
Enna Oburoni no se: "A n w o n w asem n i! N a ebeye
nnaahe ni a ebae?
N a ohene no se: " Ebae a k y e k a k ra ;
akunkum nnipa beye aduoson, nanso woda so w u ara.
E binom da a, w onnyan bio, ebinom nso rebew u a, wobo
nnyennyen de won ti bom ko w uram a obi bi nhu won bio.
Me nkurofo ase retore n a m en ye no den? A sum an fo no
p o ntum i n ye ho hwee
Y e n haw y i ase ne se nnipa bi

66

ad an kristofo n ti, abosom no bo afuw . E n ti obiara suro.

Mo Aborofo de, se m owa oyare biara ano aduru. W unnim
aduru b i a ebetum i asa oyare y i ? " Oburoni no himaa
ne ti kae se: D ab i, oyare y i de, A borofo n nya nnyaa
ano aduru e, efise wonnim nea ede ba. W o n ya hu nea
ede ba pe, w obehw ehwe ano aduru. N anso oyare a ete
see de, ebeye den se wobehu nea ede ba, ebia wo nkurofo
y i mu biako de ne ho m a m a wade no ko A burokyiri a,
aduruyefo behw e oyare no su ahw ehw e an o aduru.
B . ME MAN NTI

Oburoni no de aw erehow kese n a efii kurom ho. Okoe

no, ekyee kak ra ansa n a oresan aba bio, obae n a oyare no
b i rcye asan ohene M andombi ankasa. S a a bere y i na
ennya nkaa no ntoo ho e, nanso ne ho k y ere se erenkye na
a k a no ato ho. E siane se oye Oburoni no adam fo nti,
okoo ne fi kosraa no.
Mandombi huu no no, n'ani gyei na ose: " E i , nne na
w oaba? M atwen w o m abre. Mewo nkommo bi ne wo di.
N naano a wobae no, w okae se obi de ne ho m a m a wode no
ko A burokyiri a, aduruyefo behwe oyare no su wo ho, de
ahw ehw e ano aduru. Masusuw asem y i ho y iy e asi no
gyin ac se m ankasa m eko de me ho akokyere aduruyefo
_ u
no.
Gnna Oburoni no se: Susuvv ho y iy e o! W ote ha a,
ebia w ubenyin a k y e k ak ra, A b urokyiri nso de, woreko y i
worensan m m a bio n a worenhu wo yere ne wo mma ne
kurow y i da biara d a bio. Efi ha ko A b u ro k yiri nso nye
okwanw a na woreko y i nso worekoye ohoho ananafo asase
so. E b ia nso okwan a aduruyefo no b efa so ahwehwe
oyare no ano aduru no b eye wo ya w pii n a ebewie akyiri
no n a woakowu. So woasusuw eyinom nyinaa h o ?
67

M andom bi buae se: M inim ne nyin aa. N anso woaka

m prem pren s e m o ha aduruyefo no y anyansafo, nso eno
a ra ne kw an a w abefa so ahu ayare no an o aduru, enti wo
d e, k a k a n a w o ne m e nka. Me nkurafo n ti, m eka ara.
A m p a O buroni no k o yee ho nh yehyee m aa Mandombi
b oaboaa n e ho ne ne y e re ne ne m m a ne n'abusuafo ne ne
nnam fo dii n k ra siim ko traa ahyem m a b i m u faa asuban ten K on go so besii m poano. W abae n a hyen si po so
tw en wan. M andom bi behui no, n an i so yee no yaa,
efise hyen no so k y e n kurow biara a onim . W okurakura
no breoo de n o kaa h yen no mu kokyeree no ne dan.
E y i a k y i a n k y e n a h y e n no siim.
W okyee ara saim w o akwan so na afei w okoduu London.
W oduu ha no, M andom bi katraa n 'ad am fo a one no kae
no fi nnansa b i n a afei wade no kaa ayaresab ea ha. A yaresabea y i b i wo ne kurom , nanso eno de, esua koraa,
m pa b e y s du n a ewom, nanso A b u rokyiri de y i de, eso so
p a. E m u m p a no y e ahaha na aduruyefo ne w an aboafo
a egu m u n y e ano b i ni. Mandombi kohui no, n'ani so
y e e no tetree, nanso nnipa no yee no y iy e .

c
M andombi wa ayaresabea ha no, aduruyefo a woaben
p ii bae befeefee no nso waanhu nea ede tankom da y i ba.
N so oduruyefo b iak o b i wa ha a ano de, awa ayaresabea
ha daa, enti n a n'an i ku Mandombi ho y iye . D a bi
asesaa M andombi nsa ho tw ee ne m u m ogya guu ade bi
mu de ahwehwE b i hwee. Saa m m ere y i n yin aa na ayare
no ka so ara n a areye biribi anaa ate aduan ho m po a, na
w afa m u ada. S a a m m ere y i n yin aa n a Oburoni no nso
gu n'adw um a so a ra : nnanhwerew anan biara obekyi
Mandombi m ogya k a k ra gu ade m u ka kahwe. Oyee saa
68

ade y i ara b e y e asram abien, nso Mandombi annwiinwii

da. Ode ne ho am a korakora se womfa no so nhwehwe
ayare bane a ewa ne man mu y i ano aduru, n a ne nkurafo
an ya nkw a.
N a m ugye di se den n a ohui wa Mandombi m ogya mu?
Ohuu atiridii m m oa pii worn n a eta da b i nso a, abehwe
na m m oaa n ketenkete b i a onhuu b i d a nso frafra mu.
Saa m m oaa y i k e k a wan ho na w ate se asa nketenkete b i a
w otu atu a dua. Mandombi yare no m u reye den no, n a
m m oaa y i nso redaaso wa ne m ogya mu.
A n k y e na afei ayare no m u yee den m aa Aborafo no
hui pefee se M andom bi renni yare no. E n ti wade too
n'anim se ape se asan ka Abibirim bio ana. Saa bere y i
na M andombi a y e mmerew koraa, enti ne ti na ohima de
kyeree se arenka n a akaa no breoo kyeree Aborafo no se
wanka so ara se wobehu ayare no ano aduru ana, na nna
tiaa bi a k y i no owui.
S aa ad w um a a Aborafo no de Mandombi yee y i a n ye
akw a; ema w ohuu ayare no ho akwan. Dhene y i m ogya
m u n a A borafo y i kohuu m m oaa a ede ayare y i ba, na efi
ha oduruyefo b iara hu b i wa baabiara a, ohu. A n k ye n a
wohui nso se ohurii n a ade saa ayare y i kyinkyin , efise
wahwehwee m u no, wohuu ayare no m m oaa no b i wa
ahurii mu. N ea ete ne se: ohurii no kaka obi a ayare
tankom da y i b i nom ne m ogya a m m oaa y i bi worn a,
akaka obi foforo puw m ogya ne m m oaa y i b i gu ne mu.
M m oaa y i ka ne m ogya m u saa a, enkye n a wada, trew fa
ne m ogya m u n yin aa. W areda no n yin aa na ayare no mu
y e den, na eka so ara kosi se akyiri no ekum no.
E n ti afei den n a ese se w aye de siw tankom da y i ano?
N ea edi kan, ese se yekunkum ahurii na yehwehw e biribiara a ema w an ase fee see no. Gse se yehwehw e wan
ho akw an hu n ea w ataa tra n a yedaw baabiara a wawa m a
69

eho da ho, efise nea ahurii nni no tonkom da nso nni ho.
B io nso aduruyefo ahu aduru a etum i kum oyare yi
mmoaa wo onipa m ogya m u m a oyarefo no ho y e no den.
W oaye saa asiw oyare y i ano k o ra a de agye nnipa mpempem nkw a. N a hena n a oma w otu m i yee eyinom nyinaa? E ye Abibirim hene M andom bi a ne nkurofo nti
oma wofaa no koo amannone koyee no ayayad e de hwehwee oyare y i ho akwan no.
Mpa a ohene y i daa so wo ayaresab ea ho no wode nkaebo
bi atare n atifi akyerew ne ho asem kakra wo so de anyamesem m u asem a edi so y i a ta a to se:
" O b i nni do kese a esen e y i: se obi de ne
k ra beto ho am a ne nnam fo.
Nsemmisa
1.
2.
3.
4.

Den nti n a wobu se ade a M andom bi yee no k yere odo?

Den na ekyere se Mandombi y e okokodurufo?
Mandombi su mu nneem a ben bio na eye fe?
Abasem y i fa a eto so abiesa no nni ti asem, ti asem ben
na wode bem a no?
5. So wunim Abibirim h a hene foforo bi a oyee nneem a
pa bi m aa ne man? Bobo nneem a abiesa bi a oko tiae
din?
6. So wunim nnipa foforo bi a woboo mmoden hw ehwee
nyarew a bi ano aduru? B obo won din.

19

BLONDEL HO ASEM
1

A. ODWONTOFO A O K Y NKYIN NO

Tete m m ere no mu no na nnw ontofo bi wo ho a w okyinkyin nkurow so to dwom k y ere nkurofo. Se odw ontofo
70

b i nenam saa na okofi k u ro w bi m u na nnipa te ne n k a a,

w ogye no tom , na edu anadw ofa a, w obetw a ne ho h y ia tie
ne nnw om ; se owo aborome b i nso a, oto m a w okyere ase
n a otaa y i aserewsem nso de g y e won ani. Se oye eyinom
n y in a a w ie na nnipa no wo biribi p a bi a, wode y e no aye.
to d a b i nso a, ohene b i m a odwontofo b i tra ne fi to
dw om m a no daa.
T ete mmere no m u no odwontofo bi a ode Blondel
k y in k y in nkurow ne am an so. to da bi a, w oh yia no m a
okoto nnw om kyere ahem fo ne m mapomm a ne m m ea
adefo, n a edu ho de a, ne nnw om a eye de na obi ntee da
n a oto de ne sanku y i ano. O to wie a, w ogye no akurum
kam fo no se: "D w o m y i de, yentee so bi d a , n a woma
osan to bio. to da b i nso a, oto kyere ahiafo ne nkuraasefo m a won ani g ye nso, efise onim nnwom a wope: won
de, w ope tete nnwom a eka onipa koma.
B lon d el yee saa adw um a y i kyee. O gyina g u a mu
reto dw om a, w obeka se one onipa a ne ho to no ko raa wo
wiase, nanso wokoto ne nko se ote ho a, wuhu se asem bi
h y e n o s o . N a e fid e n s o ? So ohia ne anigyin a n a eye no
saa? wom , saa bere no n a akw an nye na akw anm ukafo
taa h aw akw antufo, enti B lon d el bre n adw um a y i mu,
nanso enye eyi na ema ne w ere how no.
B lon d el awerehow ne nkom m odi y i ase ne se: bere bi
E nyiresi hene bi faa no de no tra a n'ahem fi se ne dwontofo.
Saa ohene y i de R ichard, n a n akokoduru nti wobo no
m m ran se onipa-a-owo-gyata-koma. Saa ohene y i ye
nnam saa de, nanso ope dw onto se, na ne dwonto ne ne
sankubo reye a ye se B londel de ara. to da bi a, one
Blondel bom to dwom a sanku nam ho, na eto da bi nso
a, won baan u no bo won tirim y e nnwom no bi.
A k y ir i y i se Blondel nko te ho na okae mmere a one
ohene R ichard dii y i a, ewo dwom bi a oto; eye dwom bi a
7*

one ne hene y i nko na enim , efise won baanu no n a eboom

yee n a wode asie a obi b i n tee da. Oreto see a, n a n ani
a ta a ta a nsu, efise B londel p e ohene R ichard y i asem sen
onipa b iara nanso afei w a tu kw antenten bi a wonte ne
n k a n a o b iara nnim nea a y e no.
Ohene R ich ard ne A b u ro k y iri abiremponfo pii a tu kw an
ko P alestin a se wane nkram ofo rekoko apam won afi
asase kronkron no so. Oresan a b a no, ne hyen a ote m u
boe m a okofii n atam fo nsam . E n ti obiara b isa se: den
na a y e no?
E y i n a Blondel p e se ohu, n a nokw are mu no eyi n ti na
o k y in k y in nkurow ne am an so no. B aabiara a obeko one
nkurofo di nkommo nam nyan sakw an so bisabisa nsem
se ebia obi beka biribi a ebem a w ahu ne hene y i a k y i
kw an, n a baabiara a obefa nso oto dwom a one ohene no
yee no nso. A ban akese a k y i n a otaa g yin a to, efise
enonom m u na wode nneduafo gu na wonnim nna ohene
no te a, w a g ye no so.

B . OHENE RICHARD

B lo n d el rekyin kyin y i n y in a a na onipa bi nso d a afiase

wo A b u ro k y iri abankese b i m u. Dye onipa tenten sram
na w ani bo no so a, w uhu se a n k a oye ohoodenfo, nanso.
oyare n e afiaseda am a w atw in tw am . W uhu n anim se
oye onipa a w abre n a ne w ere ahow, nanso w uhu se oye
okokodurufo na n'anim d a so y e nyam ara; owo am anehunu m u saa de, nanso n'anim kyere se oye b aab i dehye.
Dda odan m u ho kom m , n a esiane se ontaa n k a ne ho
nti, n k u ra nketenkete b i b a odan m u ho begoru daa. Ono
nso an h aw won, n a eto d a b i m po a, o gyaw won aduan,
efise ope se won ani g y e ho: nneduafo gu dan m u a wonni
bi saa no a, wofa m m oa m po nnamfo.
72

D a bi a nkura no bae no, wanhwe won k yea, orehwe

odan no afasu ne ho m fensere ketew a a ewo sorosoro no a
naniw a ato dwen. Oresusuw nsem horow a nne ama
w adan odeduani no ho: ne kw an a otu koo P alestin a ne ne
sanba, ahum a etui po so ne ne hyen a eboe, atam fo
asase so a okofii, ne ho a osakra kyinkyinii, ne ho aguaa
a otaa bo, oyare a eboboo no, ne tam fo kese b i nsam a oko
fii ne abankese y i m u a wode no betoe s e odeduani a
orebeda ho akosi ne w u da na orennya kw an nko n ahenni
m u bio eyinom nyinaa h aw ohene deduani y i adwene.
Mfiase no osusuwii s e n e m anfo bete ne n k a a b etu a nnwensa de agye no ako, nanso afei na srekye, nso onte hwee.
Onhu s e worebegyaa no, ne nnam fo nso a, onte won nka.
A fei n a oreye apa abaw.
Oda ho saa ara kosii anwummere, na ow ia rekoto no,
hann ketew aa b i nam m fensere no mu beguu odan no
tw ea baabi. Saa hann y i beguu ananse b i ne n e ntontan
so, n a esiane s e eye otowia nti, ntontan no m u aham a no
ye e gonn s e sika kokoo. Cnna ohene no se: A d e na
e se benta so aham a s e e !
Me benta wo he o? E y i de,
am a m akae tete a me ne B londel taa to dwom bo sanku
g y e y sn ani no; m adam fo p a Blondel, she po n a nne de
owo, n a so okae me po ni? So oda so to tete nnwom no
b in i?
Oda ho resusuw saa nsem 3d no, otee dwom bi akyirik y iri. Snna ose: " A , m ate sa a dwom y i p e n ." A n k y e
n a afei obi de n ano too dw om no bio; owen n aso tiee
no y iy e hui s e eye dwom a one Blondel yee no na odwontofo no n y s obiara s e B londel.
Cnna ose: " A s a odae n a mereso y i ? Nanso snye
adaeso, eye asem pa. O nnim s e Blondel ato dwom y i
a k yin abre de rehwehws no. Ohene no nso de n kyekyem
a Eto so abien gyee so, nanso otoo no breoo na nsraafo a
73

ewen no a n te ; odwontofo a awa adan no ak yi no nso de,

otee. O dw ontofo no san de anigye to o nkyekyem a edi
kan no bio m a a ohene no nso gyee so.
Blondel a y e saa ara akohu ne hene no, enti oyee ntem
san koo E n yiresi m an m u kabaa am annee m a w obetuaa
nnwensa no gyee ahene R ichard m a asan kaa fie kodii ne
hene.
N sem m isa

1. Den nti n a ahene no anteem am fre Blondel se ahye

abankese no m u ha?
2. Ohene no to o n kyek yem a eto so abien no, eyee den na
Blondel hui se eye ahene R ichard?
3. Den n ti n a nea Blondel yee no kyere akokoduru?
Asiane ben n a etum i ba se anka esiane no n 'akw an tu
horow y i m u?
4. Nsem a edidi so 3d mu nea ewa he n a efata se wade k a
Blondel ho asem : otirimodenfo, onyansafo, apesemenkom inya, ohufo, onokwafo, m m adenbafo, ayam yefo,
nida.
5. F a wo ho se Blondel na k a senea w ukohuu nea ahene
Richard h y e no kyere w adam fo bi.

20

ODUY8FO RONALD ROSS HO ASEM

A.

TOPOO A NTONTOM WO M U NO

Y erebeka od u yefo bi a ayee ade kese b i wa India m aa

yen A bibifo ho asem. beye mo nw onw a se m obete se
ayee saa ade 3d wa India, nanso etaa b a se ade kese a

onipa kese b i y e wo baabi no ho b a m faso m a am an foforo

ne w iase n y in a a mpo. W iase n yan sa ne nnuru ho adw um aye m u titiriw n a etaa b a saa.
R o n ald R oss yE oduyefo bi a okoyee nsraafo m u adw um a wo In d ia. W an n ya n ad w u m a y i ho anigye y iy e ,
efise nea ope titiriw ne nhom akyerew , na mpo n ad agyew
mu okyerekyerew abasem ne nnw om pii. Nanso w an to to
n ad w um a ase da, mmom oyee no senea obetumi. N e a
esen ne n y in a a ne se oyee n adw ene ho adwum a y iye , ene
se, b irib iara a ohu no osusuw ho yiye, na ompene biribiara so k w a, nka se: " s e ete d a a nen, senea nnipa pii
ta a y e no.
E y i ho nhweso biako n i: Ofi a otraa mu wo India no,
ntontom h a w no worn yiye , nnipa a ene no te no de, nea
woye ara ne se woto ofi no ho m pe daa k a se ntontom no
nti eho n ye m m a won. R oss nso de, nea oka d aa ne se:
Mom m a ye n y e ho biribi, nea edi kan, momma yenh w ehw e fa a k o a w otow gu na yem fi ase ntore won ase. R oss
ankasa kae se: " Wowee me ara kosii se da bi m ikohui se
topoo bi si m e mfensere a k y i a em u n a wotow gu. M ihuu
no saa a ra pe, na medan b u tu w ii de seee m m oa no ne won
nkesua a sworn no nyinaa. Meboo asraafo no so p an yin
bi am annee kyeree no se, se wohwiehwie nsu a etaataa
topoo m u w o turom ne n kan kyeegow a esisi didipon ase
ne nhw iren nkuruw a m u no gu d aa a, n k akran kakra
wode betore ntontom no ase korakora. Anw onwasem ne
se opanyin y i annye me nsem y i anni na nneema a m eboboo din y i nso wam m a me kw an a n y e mu biara, efise ose
ntontom y e O nyam e abode, n a ewo nea enti a O nyam e boo
won, en ti ense se yeh aw won. M ekyeree no se, se ete
saa de a , ende na ense se yeku n k u m m paboa, ahurii ne
m m oaam m oaa a ehaw yen no biara, na dw iw ne yen
honam m u m m oaa a efi m a wohaw yen ho nso ense se
75

yek u n k u m won. Saa bere y i n a m innya minhui se ntete k w a a a ate see dooso wo w iase."
E jri k y e re se Ross y e onipa b i a se ohu biribi a enye a,
ohwehwe ne farebae n a w a y i no ho.
Nsemmisa
1. Se od u yefo hu n yarew a b i ho akw an asase foforo so a.
eho m faso ben na y e n y a A b ib irim ha?
2. D en n ti n a R oss hw iee topoo no m u nsu no gui no,
nton tom no gyaee no haw ?
3. A sraa fo no so panyin no se om ps se R oss kunkum adidi
d an n o m u ntontom no, okyeree ase den?
4. So w u gye di se na oka de di agoru anaa efi n'akw adw oro
a n a a efise eye ade foforo a wonyee bi da?
B . AHINTASSM BI A ROSS PEE SC OHU

R oss wo India no, ohuu ad e bone b i wo ho a ebi wo

A b ib irim h a nso. B a ab ia ra a obeko no ohu nnipa bi a
atirid ii wo won ho n a eresee won abooden, emma w on n ya
ahooden p a bi da, wobehw e na wosisi ho bosobosoo,
wonni ahoto n a wontum i n y e ade p a b i nso.
N n ip a pii hu saa ade y i d a a nso w onye ho hwee, nea
w oka a ra ne se, atiridii de, efi b a a India n ye nne, eye
oman m u ya re a w ontum i n y e ho hwee.
R oss nso de, wansusuw no sa. Ohu nnipa a atiridii
abobo won no anim a, n a eye no se wobisa no se: N a
enti m o Aborofo aduyefo 3d m untum i nsa yen yare?
M untum i nhw ehw e oyare y i an o aduru? Eresee nnipa 3d,
m unhu, n a m onhwe nsiw an o y i ? "
N anso nea R oss k a w o .n e tirim ara ne se: Mo de,
m ontw en n a yen bere nnui. Y e n n y a nn yaa oyare y i ano
ad uru e ." N anso Ross an k a no saa k w a, saa m m ere 3d
76

n yin aa na orehwehws oyare y i ho akwan. O hui se enye

Onyankopon pe se nnipa h u amane saa, n a m po otee nka
se O nyam e afre ono R oss se omla nadwene ne n ahooden
n yin aa nhwehwe oyare y i ano aduru.
Cno na ebeye
n 'asetra m u adwum a titiriw .
N a obeye saa adw um a y i nso den? N ea edi kan ese se
ohwehwe nea ede oyare 3d ba. Obisaa ne ho se: "A tirid ii
asran a ehaw nnipa 3d, den koraa na ede ba? Ohui se
fa a k o a oyare y i ta a h a w nnipa ne nea eho y e fokyee, atare,
a te k y e ne m m aka ho, enti nnipa pii susuwii se oyare y i fi
nsu a etaa ho mu, ebinom nso susuwii se se asase bi a emu
bon pam pan bo fa w o so a , ema atiridii bo w o, n a senea etaa
b a daa no nso nnipa pii k a e se atiridii yi, aba3dfo na ede ba.
R oss y e aberante no, oduyefo nyansafo b i kyeree se
otaa h u m m oaa n keten kete bi wo nnipa a eyare atiridii
m o gya m u a ebi nni ahoodenfo m ogya m u, enti nnipa
bisae se: " S o nsu bone a nnipa nom na ema saa m m oaa y i
ko won m ogya m u? W ode nneema b i so hwee, hui se
em fi ho. Ende n a efi he?
L ivingstone ahu a to ho dedaw se aboaw a b i k a w o a, na
atirid ii bo wo, nso n ea ntontom pii wo no n a nnipa ta a
y a re atiridii. E n ti so ntontom fa atiridii ho?
R o ss bisaa saa oyare y i ho nsem pii m aa nnipa b i nso
k a a nea wonim an aa n ea w ogye di, nanso obiara antum i
an kyere nea eye n a n n ip a yare atiridii. E n ti Ross de too
ne ho so se obehwehwe ahu. Ohui se on ya h u eno a, edan
den ara a, obenya ano aduru.
Nsemmisa
1. N n ipa pii susuw se atirid ii nye oyare bi, so wopene so?
2. Se atiridii bo obi a , bone ben na ak3riri no etum i y e no?
3. N neem a ben na R oss hwehwee ansa na otum i n y a atiri
dii ano aduru?

77

C . ROSS AHU AHINTASSM NO

Na afei eyee den na Ross kohuu sa a ade yi? Ode

nneema pii n a esa hwee, na ayes ho adw um a nso mfe pii.
Saa mmere y i n yinaa nso na owo adam fo bi a oboa no
yiye. Ross n adam fo y i ne London d u yefo kese Manson
a ne din a h y e ta no. N a eyes den n a Manson a ate
London tum i boaa Ross a ate India? ne ss Manson
kyerevv Ross nhom a d aa de hye no nkuran.
Nneema horow a Ross yee no bi ni. N ea edi kan ahyee
d a hwee ayare y i ano m m oaa a ewa aya refo m ogya mu no
yiye. N ea ayee no ne se: asesa a yarefo no nsateaa ano
tw e wan m ogya kak ra de kahye ahw eh w e bi ase hwe.
A fei ama wade ayarefo no ne ntontom g u ntontonnan ase.
Se ntontom no k e k a wan na akyere wan hw e wan m ogya
mu a, ohu m m oaa no bi worn nso. O hui nso se, se m m oaa
y i ka ntontom no m u a, wasakra.
E y i kyeree pefee se ntontom fra m u n a atiridii bo onipa,
nanso asemmisa ne se: den na ano de, aye worn? Nnipa
bi kae se nea eye n a atiridii m m oaa a ewa ntontom mu no
ko nnipa m ogya m u ne se, ebia wonom nsu a ntontom
awuwu agu mu. R oss de n ankasa ne ho saa saa ade yi
hwee, ene se, onom nsu a ntontom y i b i aw uw u agu mu,
nso hwee a n ye no. E n ti ohui se nea nnipa k e k a no nnim.
E y i ak yi no R oss hui se ntontom gu ahorow, enti ebia
esono ebiara m u m m oaa. E n ti nea R o ss de sii n anim
ne se obehwehwe m m oaa kp a ede atiridii b a ne ntontom
ko a wawa wan mu. Saa adwum a y i y e den na ebegye
mmere nso. K u ro w a Ross te m u y e adw um a no mu
y e hyew, na eha m fram a no nso nye, afei nso na wabre
n a areye apa abaw . N e nsa ho fifiri nko ara am a n ahwehw e a ade y e ad w u m a no m u nkyerew a a g y e nkannare,
w ahw e ntontom b eye apem yam , nso onhu hwee. ta
78

da bi a, na eye n o se adwum a no boro no so na orentumi

nwie da. N anso wam pa abaw , n a m m om okoo so ara.
wom worn a ra n a da koro b i aw ia, Osannaa da a eto so
aduonu, afe 1897 ohuu anwonwade b i wo ntontom bi yam .
Ohwee no y iy e no, ohui se a tirid ii ano mmoaa no nen.
N tontom a w ohu saa m m oaa y i wo ne mu no de " a n o
pheles, oys dodowee, ade b i sisi ne ntaban mu, na osi
fasu ho a, oma ne to so. E fi ho n a R oss too Osannaa da a
eto so aduonu "n to n to m da. E y i ne atiridii ho ahintasem a edi kan a ohui.

Nsem m isa
1. Ahw ehw e a ad u ysfo de hwe ade no ho mfaso ne den?
2. D en nti n a yentum i m fa yen aniw a hunu nhu oyare
m m oaa?
3. Y e a te se R oss kohuu atiridii m m oaa wo ntontom yam ,
den n ti n a n n ip a gye di se saa ade y i ho hia?
D . ROSS BA ABIBIRIM

Nanso eyi a k y i no, Ross hui se a k a no nneema bebree.

O nnya nhui senea eye na atiridii m m oaa a ewo ntontom
m u no nyin, n a b io nso, onnya nhuu k w an ko a m m oaa no
fa so ko onipa m u. E y i nso, a n k y e na Ross de hyee d u a
mu buu mu. ne se, ntontom no puw m m oaa no fi ne
yam b a n'anom , n a se oka onipa a, ebi fra nsu a efi n anom
ko onipa m o g ya m u no mu te se bore a owo k a wo a, opuw
gu w o m u y i ara. Mmoaa no ko onipa m ogya mu a, wodo
ma ne ho y e no h yew , na en ya y e saa a, na atiridii rebo no
ara nen.
Se eba saa na ntontom foforo b i k a ono nso a, oyarefo
no m ogya a m m oaa no bi worn ko ne yam . Mmoaa y i nso
do wo ntontom no m ogya mu na afei woaba ntontom no

79

anom , eba saa a, obiara a ntontom y i beka no g y e atu id li

bo no. Se eye a a tirid ii san nnipa nen.
N a afei saa nneem a y i a R oss sii nketekrakye hwehwee
y i ho m faso ne den? D en n ti n a wobu saa ade a R oss hui
y i ad e kese? ne se: se ye tu m i tore an o p h eles nto
n tom y i ase a, ende obi atirid ii rentumi nsan ne yonko, se
eba sa a a, n a atiridii regu ara nen, na oyare y i a eresee
n n ip a m pem pem n k w a n e won ahooden y i ano bebre ase.
A fe i R oss pee se oyi ahintasem a wahu y i adi k y e re wiase
n y in a a , enti okae se obeba atoe A frik a ha a b e y e sa a ade yi.
N so y e n m potam h a k u ro w a oyare y i gyin a so titiriw ne
Seradoo kurow a ede F reetow n , efise atiridii ntontom y i
ne n to n to m ahorow n y e n a wo ho. E n d eho n a Ross
paw ee se n atrae.
N a oreko no nso, m u g y e di se nneema ben n a ode koe?
W a m fa nnuru am fa a d u ye fo ho nneema peew a no biara.
N ea ofae ara ne ngo b i a wode kum ntontom , semente,
sofi n e fa tu nnade (pickaxes). W ohw e a, eye se saa
nneem a y i m fa ayaresa ho hwee, nso eno ara n a R oss fa
kurae. O kura oboafo b iak o nso.
O sii F reetow n pe, n a ofii ase pee apaafo, m a w oboaboaa
ntu m p an ne n kan kyeegow n yin a a ano de nteaseenam tw e
koguu p o m u, k o k y in k y in afi m u nso sesaw n w u ra n yin aa
k otow g u i: nw ura a wosesawee mmere no y e e nteaseenam
b e y e 2,250 m am a. 8 n y e e y i nko, w oyiyii a k a de tw etw ee
nsu a eta taa m m onten so ne m fikyiri nyinaa, n e a wotwetw e a, enye y e nso a, n a wode ngo agu ani. W o ye no saa
a , em m a ntontom n tow n gu m u.
N a bebrebe a R oss beyee y i, den n a efi m u bae? A n k y e
na nton tom no ano bree ase, n a nyarew a nso ano bree ase.
A fei n a kurom hofo n y e foofoo bio, na w uhu se afei de,
obiara w o ahooden.
N e a R oss nam ne m modenbo so y e m aa yen ni. W abo
80

kw an am a yen, enti e tw a yen nkyirim m a y i se ye b o a won

a eretoa n adw um a y i so nyinaa, na y e y e y e n so de a
yebetu m i de ko n yarew a a ehaw yen y i, n a ahooden ne
ahoto aba yen man m u.

Nsem m isa
i . K y e r e senea eye n a ntontom m a obi a tirid ii san obi.
a. D en na wotum i y e de siw atiridii ano?
3. D en na yen nso ye tu m i y e de boa?

2 1

ABOFRA KOKODURUFO BI
E beye m fe ha ne a k y iri ni no, na yen asase y i so y e
m mobo se biribi. N k u row m u ntew koraa, akw an nyinaa
a iu fu w kusukusuu, n a emma aguadi ne ak w a n tu nko so
y iy e , efise obiara n tu m i ntw am nko kurow foforo mu.
S e ey e akw am fuw ii no nko po a, anka eye afanim . Nanso
eyi de, kw aebirentuw deda. nkurow no ntam , a k a nkurow
no a h y e m u see tw em a en ti awudifo ne adw ow tw afo n ya
nsemmone adiye wo akw an so. Nanso e y i n yin aa idea
m fuaw , nea ebram so ko raa ne keka a w u ram m m oa yee,
k u m nnipa bebree akw an y i so no. M m oa a etaa haw
n n ip a y iy e ne asebo. N so saa here no n a abommofo
nnooso koraa wo yen hanom , enti saa m m oa bone y i doe
pii wo kw aebirentuw a ewo kurow ne kurow n tam ne
m fikyiri pee no m u a afum ko po ye Ipna. B ere a asebo
rebo nnipa m m usu saa wo kw ae mu^yi, n a m p ataku nso
gu so saa ara wo sare so.
Saa mmere y i m u n a abarim aabi tra a A kuapem nkurow
y i b i so a n'anuoden, n'abaninsem , n ahoofe ne ne nnam ye
81

nti obiara a obehu no no p e n asem preko. D a b i abofra

yi ne n a g y a siim ft fie s e woreko akuraa. W anam no, na
abofra no na odi kan n a a g y a no di akyiri. W oatw a
beye akwansin biako no, ab o fra no tee se biribi bobom wo
na k yi, obedan n ani behw e a, oseba na w atow a h y e n ag ya
so re ye no pasaa yi. Dhwe a , n ea n a g y a no da no nye,
na adwenee s e : se aboa no w ie n ag ya no tetew a, obetow
asi ano nso so, na aremfa ne ho sann nka da, edan den ara
a, obekum no bi. Saa nsem horow y i k aa abofra no m a
ade hu ne nnam koperee na g y a a a k a k ak raa bi n a w aw u
no.
A b o fra no nkura hwee s e asekam m a bi, n a o gye dii se,
s e om ia n ani a, obetum i de a g ye n a g ya anaase obetum i
de akum aboa no. Ofii ase de sekan no w u raa n ayaase,
piaa so a ra kosii se osekan no too aboa no m u ankasa.
M erekyere y i nyinaa na aboa no nnyaee e , ogu a g y a no so
ara. N anso akyiri no, esiane opia a abofra no p iaa so
dodo n ti, em aa aboa no g y a a a g y a no de ow u an ikrakra
kaa ab ofra kokodurufo no nsa kokurobeti n a afei ohim
hwee a waw u.
A fei aba no bebutuw n a g y a no anim, de nusu a emu
y e den k a a nsem pii kyeree no, susuw se onam ne saaye
so bem a wasore. N a afei oye ho biara a, enye y e no,
ode n ano too m u sui, m aa obi a obefii so de m m irika san
n 'akyi koboo am annee wo fie. NtEmpa ara n a wosii
akyene so behweE nea ag ya ne oba no da.
W obae no, wobehui am pa se nea a g ya no da no n ye
koraa. W osoaa no koo fie, n a an k y e na owui. N a saa
abofra kokodurufo y i, m ugye d i se den n a w oye de yii
no aye? Woboo no hyirew de no sii akonkon, de no koo
tia baa tia, kyeree no abakyere, ye y e e no a y e pii, na m po
saa bere no m u ara woboo no safohene. N ea w oye de d aa
no ase ni.
82

22

ASUBONTEN NIL 1
A
Mo n yin aa nim Y o sef ho abasem no. Munim senea ne
nuanom kyeree no ton no m a a aguadifo b i m a w ade no
koo M israim. A k yin n ye b iara nni ho se Y o se f kohui se
M israim y e asase a m fuw a eye fe, nkurow akese, ahemfi
ne abosonnan a eye is pii wo so. M israimfo ani buei akye,
nanso won anibuei ne nkoso n o n yin aa gyin a a ade biako
so ene asubonten Nil. D a a afe nsu y i yiri dwudwo
nsase a ebemmen no no m u m a wode dua biribiara m a eye
yie. N sase a asu y i n k a no no de, enye hwee se anhweatam nko. Misrifo huu nea asu y i y e m a won, enti wofre
no " A g y a N il," sore no se onyam e.
T e te m m ere no m u no, n n ip a ta a bisa se: N a asu y i
koraa efi. h e ? " N anso o b iara anhu ankyere da. Mfe
m pem pem tw aam na o b iara nhuu saa ahintasem y i e.
b eye m firihyia ahanu ni okwantufo kese b i a ode
Jam es B ruce kyeree se w ah u nea asu y i fi, ene se okosianee
asu kese b i fii Abesinia ara besii K hartoum . N anso saa
asu y i n y e N il ankasa, eye n abom m a b i a wofre no B lu e
N ile anaase N il b ib iri". A su y i ti ankasa no de, ewo
A bibirim nifa fam m m om , eben Abibirim asasepon y i
mfinimfini, nanso Jam es B ru ce kohuu ne de y i a k yi
m firih yia oha ansa n a worehu asu kese no ankasa ti. Saa
bere no m u, nnipa akokodurufo b i bae bio se wobehwehwe,
won akw an tu no m u nsem ne n ea yerebeka yi.
S a a bere y i na F ek u w b i w o E nyiresi A b u rokyiri a won
ani k u ye n A bibirim asasepon y i ho y iy e na ade b i a ema
w otuu won ani saa asase y i ne epo kese bi a wotee se eda

83

asasepon y i mfinimfini no. O biara bisae s e : " S o enye

saa Epo y i m u na asu y i fi? E n ti wokae s e wobesom a
nnipa akohw ehw e m u. Nanso saa adw iuna y i n y s adw um aw a: asiane ne akwanside pii worn. A kw antufo y i
rekofa nea odesani biara nan nsii ha da, kw aebirentuw ne
dEnkyEdsnkye (atekye a emu do) m u, ne mmepow atenten
a nkekaboa n e aham ufo wo so so. M ugye di s e nnipa bsn
na ese s e edi a k w an tu fo y i anim ? W osusuw ho paw m m arim a akokoduru fo baanu a akw an tu a ete s e e akokw aw
won B u rto n ne Speke s e wonni nnipa y i anim ne won
nko.
E b ia m ubesusuw se s e yep e s e yeh u asu bi ti a, nea e s e s e
ysy e ne s e y e tr a ahyem m a b i m u fa ani kohwehwe n ea efi.
Nanso w oye no saa na eye yie a, an k a woremmre koraa n a
woahu N il t i y i. Asubonten N il y i ho akwanside b i n e s e
ereko n atifi no w u ra kusuu b i a em m a ahyen ntum i m fa
ani a k ata asu no ani nyinaa, enti B u rto n ne Speke sii no
gyinae s e wobeko akosi A frik a apuei mmom de won ani
akyere atoe a tw a osa no aba. E n ti wobesii fam Z an zibar
supow so hwehweE okwankyerefo ne apaafo. E y i a k y i no
w otw a b aa A b ib irim asasepon y i so befaa okwan b i a
A rab ia nkoatofo b i fa so so. W od u u h a no, oyare boo
Burton, nanso wokae s e w obem ia won ani ako won anim
ara, enti w o k yek yee won nnesoa de soaa mfurum de won
ani kyeree k w a e m u ho. Saa bere y i ara n a oyare boo
Speke nso. A y a re y a re y i m aa won baanu no aniw a ho
kae, nanso wokoo won anim ara.

Nsem m isa
i . D en n ti n a M israim fo fre asu no
n a asu y i y e m a won?
84

se

" A g y a N il ?

D en

2. D en nti n a nnipa antum i an tra hyen mu am fa asu kese

y i ani ankohw ehwe ne ti?
3. A kw anside ben na ehaw Aborofo akwantufo a wobek y in k y in A b ib irim saa bere no?
B . OTARE TAN GAN YIKA

A fei m untie senea Burton kyeree senea wokohuu stare

T an gan yika "O sram Ogyefuo da a eto so dumiensa (1858)
y eporow hw ee so kofaa sare atenten kusuu b i mu. Y ekoe
b eye donhwerew biako kw an no, yekosii sare pradada so
na afei F u n d i (apaafo no mu biako) huruw dii kan de yen
man faa baabi. A n k y e na yek o d u u bepaw b i a egyina ho
kyirebenn a eso aboabo na nguare ne ohwirem wo so ase
na yefii ase foroe.
" Y e d u u n atifi. n a yeabre, en ti y e tra a ase homee kakra.
A n k y e n a m ani boo biribi so wo akyirikyiri, na m ibisaa
apaafo no m u b iako a ode B o m b a y se: 'N a den n a eda
bepow no ase fitaa yi? Enna orebua se: M igye m idi se
asu no n a eda ho no.' Mede ahodwiriw gyen m 'ani
hwee, nanso m ani so a y e wusiwusi n a nnua a asiw
m anim ne ow ia a erebo asu no so no am m a m anhu se eye
asu kese bi, enti m inuu me ho k a e se: 'A su w a y i n ti n a
masse m ahooden n a anka m erebewu akyene k w a y i ?
Nanso m ipini koo m anim k a k ra no, asu no ne asase a
eda ha no so buei, mihui no, m e ho dwiriw me, nanso
m ani gyei.
" S e w ani bo atare a edam m epow mu n a ow ia bo so m a
ani tw a n yinam nyinam y i so a, ne fe ne hwee nse. A su
y i ano h a ne n a g y a y e asase tam aa a ekoron kak ra n a
nnua fromfrom a eye se empo d a sisi so nyinaa, eno a k y i
bio na asase ta m a a bi da a eye anhw ea a ete se sika kokoo
nkutoo. N sunoa ho baabi nso asorokye no a tw a asase no
fefeefe, n a oyee ne aworam a esisi ano ho m a ho y e fe se.

85

Eyinom a k y i n a asu a ani biri se osoro ani a atew no d a

tamaaa, ne tre w b e y e akwansin aduasa ko aduasa anum.
Mmepow bi a ekoron y iy e wo asu yi a g y a pee, om ununkum
akata fa n a ofa nso d a ho a wuhu no y iy e . Asase hwene
a ede U guh ba no wo asu y i m u n ifa fa m n a nsupow ne
apofofo abonto a edi nsu no ani akoneaba ne asorokye
a sbo dwira asase no m a asu no ho y e f s se biribi. Se
wufi apuei A frik a befa anhw eatam a n n u a bi nni so so, ne
kwae kusuu m u ne abotan ne n k yerek yeraa so, ne a tek ye
m u de besi asu y i ne ho nsase fefe y i so a, ema ne fe duobo.
Nokwa, w ani bo asu y i so a, na wo k ra m po ani agye.

OTARE TANGANYIKA
"A fe i de, m e w ere hi me bre, m a k w a n tu m u am ane
ahorow, ne m 'an i a enni so se anka m esan m ako fie bio no,
na mekae m po se, se ohaw ne amane a ewo m 'anim no y e
nea mahu no m m oho m po a, afei de, m ede anigye m efa ne
nyinaa mu na nnipa a eka me ho no nso m ihui se won ani
agye se me a ra ."
86

Nsemmisa
1. Den nti n a B u rto n behuu otare T an gan yika no opaa
abaw?
2. Den n a ema osakraa n'adwene a k y iri yi?
C . OTARE VIKTORIA N Y A N ZA

B urton ne Speke akohu otare T a n gan yik a, nanso nea

woboo din bae a eye asubonten N il ti no de, w onnya nhui.
A rabiafo a wone won nam no bi kyeree se otare kese bi nso
d a emu ho b aab i wo benkum fam . N a so enye asubonten
N il ti no nen? S aa bere y i na oyare abo Burton, nanso
Speke kae se ne nko bebo mmoden akohwehwe.
E n ti won b aan u no san baa T a b o ra n a Speke besiesiee
ne ho wo ho hw ehw ee apaafo b aa sa w a bi ne won koe.
W okotw aa akw ansin ahanu aduonu asia kw an ansa na
worekohu nea enti a wokoe no. W okoduu baabi no,
wosoee ho. ho n a Speke gyin a huu asu bi se eda ho,
nso efi nea wosoee ho ko nea asu no d a ho b eye akwansin
anan. Speke ben asu no, ohui se enye asuw a bi na mraom
eso so p a n a nsupow nketenkete pii a nnua sisi so fromm
sisi asu y i m u n y in a a na ho y e fe y iy e . Speke pee se
anka ode n ani kan n hwe asu n o, nanso n 'an iw a a aye
wusiwusi no n ti hw ee n a ohye de hw ee. N nipa a wokotoo
won ho no nhuu Aborofo da, enti nso wonhuu Aborofo
ho nneem a horow, se ebia, hwee y i b i da, enti wohui se
ohye no, won ho a edw iriw won n y e eni, enti wokokotokotow ne nan ase hw ee, free no O buroni a owo aniw a anan.
W ohaw no pii a enti am nia w antum i an h ye an kye na oyi
hyee ne ko to ku m u sii kw an so.
W oduu asu no ho pee no, wohui se eso am pa na eye
Abibirim atare akese no biako bi a ede V ik to ria N yan za
no abom m a b i n a Speke ne Oburoni a odii kan kohui.

87

O k o h u i no, okyerewee s e : Y e k o d u u bepaw b i ase n a afei

m 'ap aafo no foroe n k akran kakra koduu n atifi pee. ho
n a ye fi huu stare kese V ik to ria s e eda ha hahraa, asu yi
ani b iri s e p o ara pE. Y e d u u ho anapatutu. W o to w ani
h w e benkum fam nso a, epo n a eda a k yirik yiri te a a y i!
A sase y i f s n y e adewa, n a s e eda baabi a nnipa tu m i ko ho
kohw e d a a m po a, anka ne f s rem fono won da. A s u no ani
a d a fem m , enti wohu em u nsupow nkuruw ankuruw a ne so
nn ua n e ab otan no sunsum a fefeefe worn, w u h u nneem a
a tu n tu m nketenkete b i nso wo akyirik yiri, eyinom nso
y e apofofo abonto a edi asu no ani akoneaba. A sase
ta m a a b i nso d a bepaw no ase pee, eso nnua kusukusuu ne
n k u ra a n o ase w usiw no y e e se erekata adan n e asese no so,
n a n h ab an fromfrom ne ad an atifi koa no nso m a ho n yin aa
y e fe se.
" A s u kese y i ne ho nsase no fe m aa m e ho san m e de,
nanso n e a em aa m 'ani gyei ko raa ne ho m faso a m ihui se
d a a k y e w ob en ya wo aguadi ne ad e m u no. B io nso d a a
y i w onh u n ea asubonten N il t i wo, n a akw an tu fo pii nso
ahw eh w e abre, nanso nne de, a k yin n y e b iara nni ho s e
otare kese V iktoria y i m u n a N il fi."

Nsem m isa
1 . D sn n ti n a Eye a, Speke h y e hwee, n a den n ti n a eto da
b i a, o y i to ho?
2. Speke kohuu otare V ik to ria no, eho nneem a ben n a
eyee n o nwonwa?

23

NKUROFO MM8
A

Oman b iara wo mme, nanso etaa b a se, se k a sa a wode

bu m m e no n y e pe mpo a, w obehw e n a m m e b i k y ere ade
88

koro. Y e d e T w ifo m m e n e Aborofo de b i b sto to ho ahwe.

T w ifo m m e anum bi n a e w o h a yi, Aborofo de anum nso
to a so. be biara a ewo T w ifo de no m u wo biako bi
w o B orofo de no m u a ene no s e . Hwehwe m m e a esesEe
no wo aku w abien y i m u :
Borofo m m e

T w ifo mm e
1. A h ene pa nkasa.

1. Obi ye w o y iy e a, wo nso
y e no bi.

2. A gyin am o a wu a, n k u ra
yam .

2 W ote

3. B a a n u so dua a, em m ia.

3. Haase a hw ee nni m u na
wopirew a, skasa.

4. A k y e k v e re se: N sa ko
n a nsa ba.

4. Ofiebofo nni fie a, nkura

n y a kwan goru.

5. N ea owo a k a no suro sunson.

5. Nnipa dooso wo adwum a

b i ho a, enye den.

6. W o nsa d a obi anom a,

w om paa n'atifi.

6. A boa no k a w o penkoro
a , wusuro no daa.

ahw ehw E

dan

mu

a , w o n to to w a b o .

B
M m e abien abien a edidi so y i y e Borofo m m e a ebo
a b ira :
1. O b i y e ne sika ketew a ho n kyek ye, nanso osee ne sika
kese.
2. H w e wo sika k etew a so y iy e , na kese no b e tra w o nsam.
1. N n ip a dodow noa n kw an a, enye de.
2. N n ip a dooso wo adw um a bi ho a, enye den.
1. A kokod u ru a nyansa k a ho n a eye.
2. W o koko n ye duru a, w o ho ade hwere wo.
89

T w ifo de a edidi so y i m u nso hwehwe abien abien bi a

ebo abira na h yeh ye no saa ara:
1. N am dodow nsee nkw an.
2. Obadueduefo nto ne na funu.
3. A k yek yere se: O barim a m fere aguan.
4. M m aa dodow kunu y a re a, akam n a ekum no.
5. W ote faako a, w ote w 'a d e so.
6. fere nti, na odommanin ti bo akyene ho.

24

OPONKO NWONWAFO BI HO AS EM
D a bi Persia hempon baa g u a kese, n a akatraa ese a ewa
n ahem fi aban anim no so. Esiane se e ye afe n o m u afah y e da kese nti, am anfo a waaka am ia m u re b ey i wan ho
a d i behyee aguabirem ; (nea waba gua) ha tw em . Mpofirim na abarima b i a odi ohoni panka b i a w aah yeh ye no
kosoa a se wohwe no a, Ete se opanka p a a ra a k y i begyinaa
ahengua no anim.
Omaa akye wiei no, akae se : N ana, sebe, opanka y i ho
y e nwonwa se. S e m ihuruw misi no so a, ob etu m i am a ne
h o so aka wim , n a ade m e a tu faa se an om aa de me aka
a k yirik yiri. E siane se ahempan no p e anw onw ade hwe
ne nneemanneema a Ete saa nti, n'ani g ye i. Oteee ne nsa
k a kyeree no se: W uh u saa bepaw a ewa ha y i ana? T ra
w o panka no so ka ha, n a kobu abogyedua a esisi so no baa
b iak o bre me.
Obarima no huruw sii opanka no so k y im d adew a bi ne
kon ho. Se m erekasa y i, na opanka no aba pentenkw aw
am a ne ho so ka ahun mu, afei otow ne ho hwii ss
90

agyan koo bepaw no atifi. Sim m a du p e a k y i no, osan

bae a okura d ubaa ku su u no, n a abekotow ahempan no
anim . Ohempan no ho dw iriw no p a p a a p a , enti obisaa
ne bo kae se abeta a b o a a ne ho y e nw onw a y i.
Obarima no buae se: N ana, w adaw orom a, ne bo y e
biako pe, eno ara n a m egye, ene se: W ode wo babea no
bem a me aware.
Asem y i m aa a tra fo no pan serew, nanso ahene ba

Ferose-Sah de, ne bo fu w ho papa bi. nna aka kyeree

n a g y a se: Sebe, e y i de, eye tiw uisem k w a, w adaworom a,
m fa m fra w o d adw en mu. Pe nkom m a p a bi di, na kae
w o dibea kese ne w o m panyim fo.
Ohene no kae se: Oba, m erem fa m e b ab ea no m ma no,
ebi na aka gyee n ani na enye asem pa. Yebekorakora
no, na w atan aboa no am a yen ebo a efata so, nanso mepe
se wokafeefee no ho hwe, na w ankasa kosa no hwe, na
w obekyere me nea wudwen.
T W I- a

. 6 4

91

A b o a no w u ra no ani g y e i funtum m m irika dii ohene ba

n o anim koo oponko no h o b o a a no m a otraa no so fii ase
k y eree no senea w oka no. Nanso Ferose-Sah ho peree
no, anto ne bo ase. W a n tw en koraa, n a o k yim k yerew a
bi a ohui se obarim a no k y im de m a okoe no, &nna oponko
n o boo pentenkw aw koo soro tu faa wim. Ohempon ne
n 'a tra fo no hui se n 'a tik o am em na omma no, g u a no boo
hum . W akae se ebia o n tu m i n k a oponko no, m m a onsian
m m a fam bio, anaase odan no po a, senea ode no besi asase ta w so no, obeko akohw e obotan bi so an aa obeko akoto
epo m u.
Ohempon no k a a oponko n e w ura no anim se w an k yerek ye re ohene b a no senea wodannan no ansa n a o g y a a no
kw an . E n ti wode no k otoo afiase se onna m u nkosi da
b i a ohene b a no besan a b a.

B
A h ooh are a oponko no d e huruw fii fam de koo w im no
m a a ohene b a no ho d w iriw no. Nanso esiane se oye
ab eran te kokodurufo n ti, n an i gyee saa anw onw ade y i
ho, am p e se obegyae. O kaa n'asre m iaa no denneennen
de no k y in w im donhw erew biako. Obree n e t i ase faa
oponko no kon ase hw ee fa m no, ohui se owo a h u n m u
a on tum i nhu biribiara senea ete asase so bio, m m epow
ne a sasetaw n yin aa y e n o pe. Opee se osan n 'a k y i, enti
o k yim k yerew a a eda oponko no kon m u dan no, nanso
oponko no tu koo soro ara. O k yin k yim k y ere w a no fa a
a k w a n horow pii so, nanso ebo so a, ebo. So obesan abesi
fam bio ana? nna ose: n y e den ara a, okw an b i wo
ho a w o tu m i fa so m a a b o a y i si fam , se mebo m m oden a,
m ehu a r a ." O twetw ee im arek a no ohare so h are so se
ode rem a oponko no asi ne t i ase, nanso am fua. Dtwee ne
92

m u kobeaa oponko no kon a k y i fa a akw an horow so, nanso

okwa. Okae ss: A n k a ess se m etwen n a n e w u ra kyerek y ere m e senea wodannan no ansa. M erenye perepere
saa b io.
Osan feefee oponko n o ho bio, n a ne k ra y iy e y iy e ohuu
dadew a bi n aso a k y i. N tem ara okyim ii n a oponko no
fii ase sianee. N 'an i g y e i mmoroso. Osian, osian ara na
osianee senea oforoe no pe. O nnya nsii fam no, n a atoe
ahyeren koo se hyerem m o kese biako a esi sik a a woabere
ho m u, snna ade sae.
Oponko no ne ne so te fo no faa esum no m u, n a anadwo
bosu m fram a w irududu no bo faa nafono so hinhim natad e wo n akyi. A fe i asem foforo baa n adwenem . he
na worekosi? Odan atifi anaa dua nkonm u an aa sare so?
E sian e se efi anopa hw ee n kaa n'ano nti, n a okom aye no
se atw aa.
Am onom ara n a oponko no boa ne ti ase, n a obesii
b aabi a eye. N tem ara n a ohene b a no hu ru w sii fam.
F a a k o a osii ho y e torotoro, nanso eho y e den eye abo
nsewee b i a w oatw iw so fefeefe. Adum b i a w ade abohem m aa bi a y e a ne soroko b ek a nufu ase sisi ofa biako,
nanso n e a ewo a k y irik y iri de, wanhu, m m om nhwiren
bebree h u a ne asubonten b i aworo ho m fram a bebo faa
no so, enna ohui se ebeye tu ro bi n a ewo ho.
Odan ne ho no, okofaa opon b i a w oakuntun no se
asepatere m u de kohyen ahem fi ho. E sum no m u yee
duru. Ode ne nsa kekae breoo ara koduu atrapoe tetree
b i a eso y e w irududu, n a eso y e toro ho, n a ohui se eno
nso b e y e obohemmaa. Oforoe no, obaa opon b i a wode
sed aa n katan im asEn ano ho. Otee nnipa b i a woadeda
nnahoo hom e. Otwee n k atan im no breoo yee n w aa hyen
m u no, ohui se asraafo p ii a w oayiyi won n k ran te ato to
w on h o deda ho. Onam ne nansoaa ano fa a won m u

93

kohyen odan a ewo a k y iri no mu. Sika kan ea bi a esi ho

to w hann fefe bi guu m m eaw a pii a wodeda ho no bi so,
n a ohene babea bi da sim pi (ese) bi a swo ho so, eyinom y s
ne m m aawa. Dweae breoo koo simpi no ho. Ohene ba
Ferose-Sah hwee ohene b ab ea a wada no. N ani a eboo
no so pe, na n ahoofs kyeree ne koma. O kotow fam soo
n 'atad e nsa twee.
Otew n ani no, eyes no ahodwiriw se ohene b a fefe bi
g yin a n anafo, nanso w am m ue n ano. Ohene b a no boo
ne mu ase kae se: "O h ene babea katabaako, P ersia hempon b a na okotow w 'an im yi. Snam adom m iredi kese
m u n a mabedu ha yi. Mesre wo oboa, ene se h w s me
so. Obuae se: "O hene ba, m igye wo aw aaw aa atu u , ma
w o bo nto wo yam . nyE ahamufo asase no b i ni.
B engal, ogyeahoho ahem m an, ayam ye ne opow asase ni,
m 'a g y a ne ha hene.
Ohene b a no de anigye w en n aso tiee nsem dede ne ne
nnwom dede a etw etw e tirim no. Nnwom no de sen
aworomse. Okae se: " w o m , okwan a w onam so bepue
fii ha y e me nwonwa de, nanso merem m isa w o am annee
mprempren. Esiane se woabre, na a kw ad w ow a redan
wo k a nti, mema woasiesie biribi kakra ne d ab ere am a
w o . Anni gyin a n a woawie m a ohene b a no de biribi
a k a n'ano akoda hatee.

c
A d e kyee no, oboo no n anantese nyinaa de nsem y i ta a
to se: Sesee m a g y a di m e nkommo, enti ese se m eye
ntem kohu no. Ohene b ab ea no buaa no se: E i, wobeko mprempren? Mesre w o a, di me n kyen n n a tia a bi
fa dwudw o wo ho, n a fa hw e eha asase y i, n a woko a,
w o an ya bi akoka a k yere w o nnam fo a ewo P ersia n o.

94

Ohene ba no penee, n a ohene babea no nso siesiee anigyede horow h y ia a nnw ontofo fekuw to to w apon ahemfi
turo no mu m aa abommofo kotwee bree no. E ye ohene
b ab ea no ankasa ab an n a n ag ya no a n k asa a odi hene
no te ahenkurow m u akyirik yiri. Ohene b a no ho sepew
no nsra a okosraa ho no m u, enti odii ho obosome ansa
na n'ani gyinae se obeko ofie. Nanso se obekra ohene
babea no na ne nko ako no, osree ohene b ab ea no se onka
no ho na wonko, nanso odo n ti openee. D a bi ahem ad akye w otraa oponko nw onwafo no so dan ne ti kyeree
Persia, na woporow hw ee so.
W oduu Persia no, wokosii fam wo ohempon no aban bi
a ofupe bere okogye m u m fram a a ene ahenkurow no
n tam ntw e pii no m u. Ferose-Sah g y a w ohene babea
no wo ha, na okoboo nea ab a ho no ho am annee kyeree
n agya.
Ohempon akora y i hui se ne b a no asan a b a dwoodwoo
no, ne ho sepew no pii.
N a okae se: "M ed e kom a
p a mepene w aw are no so, na m ereba mprempren
a b e k y ia ohene b a b ea no abem a no a k w a a b a ne aba-atra-ase.
S a a bere no n a w o ayi oponko no w u ra a wode no too
afiase no. Oboo ne tirim se obeto ne w ere. Otee ohene
b ab ea no n ka no, oboo hoo koo ahem fi ho. Oka kyeree
Ankobeahene no se: Ohempon no asom a no se ommefa
ohene babea no m fa ahun m u m m ra n 'a b a n a ewo ahen
kurow no mu no m u. W okofree ohene b a b ea no bae
no, one no traa oponko nw onwafo no so porow hwee so
koe.
N ea wode beko ohempon no aban no m u tee no, otu faa
baab i, n a ade k y e e no, w okoduruu fam wo k w ae bi a ewo
K a sm ir ahem m an no ahenkurow kese no a k y i mu. Opee
se ohene babea no h y e no bo se obeware no, na w aye ne

95

yere, nanso wam pene. E y i hyee no abufuw , enti ofii ase

poopoo no. Saa bere no n a K asm ir hene ne ne dam nen am kvvae no mu. W otee ss ohene babea no teeteem no,
wokoa ho kogyee no. Ohene no dii ohene b ab ea no anim
.e no baa n'ahem fi, n a ode no kosoee ad an a edi kan no
biako bi m u m aa n asom fo hw ee no. Ohene bab ea no ani
g y e i potoo n yaa anidaso se n adoeye y i a k y i obema wako
P ersia dwoodwoo.
A d e kyee no, otee se w oreka nkyene reh yen mmen n a
om an no de anigye rebo ose. Ohene no besraa no bisaa no
senea n apow m u te k a k y eree no se: " S o w ote anigye
hom o a wobo no ana? W ayeforoh yia nti n a w oye saa,
m e n a merebaware wo. W o na worebedi K a sm ir asase
y i so hemmea.
A sem y i wosow ohene b a b ea no m a osuroe, m po ade too
no so. N ani so te te w no no, okaee bo a w a h ye FeroseSah no, enti ohwehwee okwan bi a onam so besee saa
aw are no. Oyee ne ho senea wabo dam , ofii ase kasak asae ye e n'ade basabasa. Osore fii n 'agu a no so se orekoto a ohene no. Ono nso h o dw iriw no, n a ne ho yeraw no
se ayeforoh yia h yereh yere no de asenkese a ete see aba
obea no so. E n ti w o tu u ayeforoh yia no h yee da se
enkosi d a b i a ne ho b e y e no den.
W o k o h yiaa asase n o so adunsinfo a w o agye din ne
peadeahufo baa ahem fi ho, nanso nokw arem no obiara
a n tu m i ansa no ya re. N 'a n i bo odunsinni anim a, na
afei n a adwenemsee no aduobo. E y i koo so abosome
bebree.
W ob u i se anidaso n y in a a asa no, odunsinni hoho b i baa
ahem fi ho. E siane se ofi ak yirik yiri nti, ak w a n tu mu
n an teb re am a w a y e se obire. d kae se: " M a te ohene
b a b e a y i n ka, n a m a h u dekode a eku ra no, e n ti m etum i
m a sa no y a re ." Ohene no k ae se: " Se w u tum i sa no yare
96

a, an ka wone asase y i so aduefoa n yin aa m u obirifo."

N 'an i baa no so pa, n a eturuw ii. Ohoho no kae se : M igye
m idi se eyi de, se w om a me kw an na m ikohu ne nko a,
m etum i m asa.
W akakyeree no ne dabere, na okohuu no se wasum daw
te ha awerehow m u , n a n 'a n i ateetee nsu, n a areto awerehow dwom b i rem om a abew a abebew no a te tew ane ohene
b a a ado no no n ta m n o ho kw adw om . N ani baa abarima
a ahye aduefoo a ta d e no so ara pe, na ofii ase teeteeem se
abadamfo. Obarim a no fii ase kasae pe, n a ogyaee de
ahodw iriw ne a n igye hw ee n'anim . ye ahene b a FeroseS ah n a w ab a reb egye no. Obisae se: yee den na woabefi h a yi? " O b u aa no s e : " W ow iaa w o no, m adi wo ho
nkakora ne y a w m abre. Se m etra ha m a tw a adw o kw a
no, mebao me tirim se m ekyin wiase n yin aa akosi se mehu
w o. Abosom e ab iesa ni a mifi k yin hw ehw ee wo, mifi
k u ro w m u ka k u ro w m u ne asase biako so ka foforo so de
besi nne. A k y iri y i na m ibeduu asase y i so, n a metee se
nkurofo bi reka ohene b ab ea katabaako b i a anam anwonw akw an bi so abefi ahem fi ha, ne senea ahene pe se aware
no, nanso n adw ene asee a odunsinni biara n tum i nsa ho
asem . M ahyehye m e ho se odunsinni de, nanso me ara
* * >
m ini.

D
Ohene babea no ho san no papa bi de, nanso okae se:
A o , ohene no rem m a w om m fa me nnka, nso wowen aban
y i aw ia ne anadwo. N a okwan ben so na y e b e fa a g u a n ? "
Ohene b a no kae se: " W o de, to wo bo, m en ya akw an."
Osan b aa ohene no n k y en no, oka kyeree no se: " wom
se ne ho nwiee no d en ye pesee de, nanso n ani so ada ho."
Ohene no tee eyi no, obuu no se wiase y i m u dunsinni kese.

97

rt
;-h

ft

K
L''

Odunsinni no bisae se: "O k w a n ben so na onam baa ha?

Ohene no kae se: Oponko nwonwafo bi a otu fa a nam wim
so na ote bae. ka m 'adem ude ho, na m ehwe so y iy e .
Odunsinni no buaa no nim dee kwan so kae se: Asem a
woka me y i na ebema m atum i asa ohene babea no yare
awie. Senea enam oponko no so na oyaree no, saa ara
na ebeboa m a woasa no yare.
Dkyena m a womfa
oponko no mm ra aguabirem , oman no n yin aa anim , na
gyaw nea aka no m a me.
W ubehu biribi a wunhuu
bi da.
Anopahem a a wim a y e dinn, na obosu repete a owia
repue no, wode oponko no baa aguabirem ho. Ohene
no traa ofa baabi a n a trafo atw a no ho asi, n a oman
no nso gu fa, obiara ho pere no se obehu dekode a
erebeba.
Ferose-Sah a w adw udw o n anim, na asom fo dum ien a
obiara kura nyan sram m a koko gongonn di n a k y i nam
kam kam baa gua no m u. W ade totoo fam tw a a oponko
no ho hyiae. Ferose-Sah koa ho m m iako m m iako de
ohuam siam koguguu so. A hum am fa so n a owusiw
kumonn a k a ta no so a obiara nhu nea ereba. Merekasa
yi, na w am a ohene b a b e a no so asi a te so, ahuruw a tra ne
nkyen, na w akyim k y e re w a no, na oponko no am a ne ho
so ko wim . O nyam aa ne n sa kraa won teeem s e : " K asm ir
hene, se ohene babea bi besoe wo na wope se w ow are no a,
m a onnye wo pene an sa.
W okoduu Persia dwoodw oo da no ara. A n n i da bi na
w ohyiaa won ayeforo a n igye kese m u. N a nkurofo no
kae se wonhuu ohene b a b ea hoofefo ne ne kunu nuonyam fo y i so bi wo asase no so da.

Kr98

l]<

2 5

ISRAEL DWOM 104

Onyankopon keseye da adi wo ne nnwunta mu
Me kra, h y ira A w urade, Aw urade
me Nyankopon, woso kese, w oahye
oharan ne anuonyam .
O fura hann se n tam a, otrew osoro mu
se ntam adan tarn.
Ode ne mpia sem nsu so, ode amununkum y e ne tease enam, ode m fram a
ntaban nenam.
Ohwe a Onyankopon hwe mmoa, nnomaa ne nnipa
O yi nsu aniw a ab o n m u, esen nenam m m epow ntam.
m a wuram m m oa n y in a a nom bi,
torom de kum wan sukom.
so na wim nnom aa tetee, nnubaa
m u n a wofi m a won nne so.
O fi ne soro m pia m u g u mmepow so
nsu, w o nnwum a so a b a m ee asase.
Oma w ura fifi m a afieboa ne afumduan a onipa y e ho adw um a se obema aduan afi asase mu.

99

Adesae, adekyee, ne mtnere m u adannan kyere

Onyankopon nsiesiei ne ne nyansa
O ytz osram de y e e bere mu k y ek y e, ow ia nim ne to
here.
W o m a sum duru n a ade sa, m o mu
n a kw ae mu m m oa n yin aa keka won
ho.
G yatafo ro bobom di m m oa akyi, na
wokope won aduan O nyankopon nsam.
O wia pue a, w otw e won ho, n a w o b u tu b u tu w won atu
mu.
Onipa fi ko n ad w u m a ne ne dw um adi ho kosi anadwofa.
A w m ad e, w o im w u m a dooso d m
ara, nyansa m u n a w o yse ne nyinaa,
w abode a h y e asase so ma.

Onyankopon hwe epo ne nea m o m u nyinaa

po ni, e so n a etrew hahraa eho n a m m oa manyam an ya a enni ano nenam ee, m m oa n k etew a ne akese.
100

ha n a ah yen nenamee, bonsu a w ayee no se ongoru

m u no n il
W an n yin aa hwe w o kw an se ma wan,
wan aduan ne bere mu.
W om a w an na w atase, wubue wo
nsam, na ade pa mee wan.
A y ey i nka Onyankopon wo ne yiyeye ne n anwonwakwan
ho
M a A w u rad e anuonyam ntra ha daa, n a Aw urade ani
nnye ne n nw um a m u : Ono na ahwe asase n a ewosow, aka
m m epaw n a efi owusiw.
M ete ase y i m eto dwom m am a A w u rad e; mewa ha y i
m eto a y e y i dw om m am a me N yankopan.

26

ASANTE HENE BI HO AS EM
A san te ahem fo y e nnipa bi a wawa tum i, nanso wan m u
pii am fa tum i y i anhye wan nkoa so k w a : mmom wodii
won hene n yan sa m u m aa wan manfo dii wan ni pee wan
asem.
IOI

Saa ahem fo y i m u b iak o ne K w a k u D ua. Oye ahene

nuonyam fo yam yefo, en ti ne din hyetae O santem an mu
nyinaa.
N e bere so no aberew a b i tra a Osantem an m u a akuraa
nko ara na ote, onnim ne kurom mpo, na m enne K um ase
abonten kesee so. D a bi okae ss: " D a biara m ete K w a k u
D ua din, m panyin ne m m ofra nyinaa m m a ne din nna,
woye ade pa a, w ose: K w a k u D u a; woye ade bane a,
wose: K w a k u D ua. O n ipa a ote see de, gye se mede
me hia y i m ekahwe n anim ansa na m aw u .'
Ofaa
n'apaaw a tw iw ho fefeefe, horoo ne n tam a koro fitafita
n a akoo afum kotetew nn uadew a se orekahwe K w a k u D ua
anim.
Oduu K um ase no, ohui se nea ne kurow nen no y e onipa
kese pa ara. O bisaa ahem fi kwan m a w akyeres no;
opuee ho no, ne ho dw iriw no kese; ahwee adam pan
ahorow a waadidi ho adw ini, nkyene horow ne nnipa a
wasam ho no, okae se: B irib i wa baabi. E y i a k y i no
atoo n'ani huu obirem pon kokuroko K w a k u D u a ; abaa
ne ti nko se: E d i sa, edi sa, m am m ehu no a, an ka m aye
me ho! O gyinaa ho b e y e nnanhwerew abien.
Nso ofitii ha pe, n a ohene huu no. Ohui se w a k y e no,
osee akyeam e b iako se om m isa no se okura asem b i nam
ana. Okyeam e no b isa a no no, obuaa no se: " Mebehwee
opum puni anim . Ohene k a kyeree no se: Se okura
asenhia b i de a , ende antw en n a gua no n tu ansa, n a se
enye ahintasem bi de a, ende anka n anantese. Obea
no kae se: O kyeam e, m a otum foa nte se nea enti a n afenaa g yin a ha y i ne se m a te ne din abre na esiane se aye
am ansan nyinaa dea n ti, m ekaa ntam se g y e se mede me
hia y i ara behu n anim b i ansa na m an ya abotayam aka
nananom nkyen wa asam an. N ea mede bae ne nnua
dewa y i, cfise w 'afen a a nni hwee koraa, m ihuw fam
10 2

m eda; anka mewo m m abarim a akontom pe baason, nanso

won nyinaa ah yew wo osa mu, enti n n e a k a me nko na
m ete ofituw m u ."
, Obea no n y a a ohene anim anuonyam kese; okae se:
A m pa, oko n y e ade p a na se etoo m e nko e ! Ofree
obea no k a kyeree no s e : Ma wo bo nto wo yam , fa me si
w o m m abarim a baason no anan m u ; m eyi m e yam mahwe
w o akosi w o w u d a. Oma wokokyeree no ofi fefe b i se
omfa koraa: e y i a k y i no omaa no afenaa ne nneem a horow
a ehia no n yin aa pepeepe m aa obea no dii taam u kese
kosii ne w uda.

27

ASUBONTEN NIL II
A.

A S U B I T W A M U A S IA N E

Y e a te senea akw an tu fo akese baanu, B u rto n ne Speke

boo mmoden ara koo A bibirim mfinimfini kohwehwEE asu
N il ti. O kw antufo kese b i nso wo ha a wofre no B aker,
n akw an tu bi m u nsem na yerebekan y i.
O kw antufo Speke abo mmoden a koh u asubonten Nil
ti se efi otare V ik to ria no mu am pa, nanso ne n yinaa mh
faak o ; efa bi fi otare A lb e rt no mu. M firihyia abien akyi,
osan b aa otare V ik to ria ho bio behw ehw ee m u y iy e , huu
faako a asubonten no sen fi otare no m u no. Obehuu no
saa no, opee se an k a osiane asu no ara kosi Misraim
kurow K a iro m u pee. O hyiaa akw anside pii ansa na
otum i koduu K ondokoro, Eho na o h yia a ne yonko bi a
n ani nni no so koraa. Ose: Y ed u u ho no, da bi mebehw e a, obi a ote se E nyiresin i na ode m m irika rebehyia me
y i na oduu me n kyen no ansa na merehu se eye m adam fo

103

B aker. Mani a egyei enye adewa. A n ig y e nko ara nti

ycantum i anni nkommo pii. Nkom m obo no mu ara na
B ak er rekyere m e se okura ahyem m a abiesa ne nnipa
ne yom a ne aponko n e mfurum ne biribiara a ebehia no
akw antu y i m u s e ode rebehwehwe ye n n a n'ani nni so
m po se orebehyia yen wo h a.
E y i ak yi no w odii ntetew m u m aa Speke koo so sianee
asu no ara kosii K a iro w o nea ebo po m u ho pee na B aker
nso ne ne yere de won ani kyeree anafo koo A bibirim
mfinimfini. A fei m untie nsem horow a sbae B aker ne ne
yere akw an tu y i m u no bi. Ose: " D a b i anwummere
yekoduu asu b i a ede K afoor ho. ho n a ese se ye tw a
asu no. A su no nso d a denkyedenkye (atekye a em u do)
b i mu, na eho de, n tan n aa ne sare ne nsu ani wura pii wo
asu no ani a a y e s e tw ene bi a eda so. S a a ade 3d mu nno
pii na eno ase n a asu no ankasa wo, nanso nnipa no ansuro
n a woboo m m oden fa a so tw aa asu no. M ihui se enye se
w otra oponko an aa y o m a so fa ade a ete s e e s o , enti me nso
m idii kan kyeree m e yere se onni m a k y i, nanso onni
m anammon a k y i m fa n ea m efa ho pepeepe. ha de, n a
asu no ani tre w b e y e abasam aduanan. Mekoo m anim
k a k ra no, m ibuu nkom pow hwee m a k y i se me yere reba
ana, mehwee n a o g yin a faako na orem em m po n a n anim
n yinaa nso a y e koo. M eyee ntem san m a k y i kosoo no mu
m aa nnipa no baaw otw e boaa me tw ee n o fa a nsu no m u a
ne ti ten ani kotoo asu no a g y a : nea en ti a yeam m a no so
anturu no ne se se ye y e e no saa a, a n k a y e n n yin aa bemem em mmom. Y e k o d u u asu ogya ho n o, m em a wode no
kotoo dua b i ase de nsu popaa n anim , efise eyee me se ade
n a ato no so, nanso n a oda ho kom m a onka ne ho te senea
w aw u n a w a k a ne se asi anim denneennen a k a ne nsa
am ua ano ahanhan n ani hwe yen haa. Se na ahunm u
na asi no so.
10 4

Nsemmisa
1. Se asubonten N il resen akobo po m u a, ehe na efi, na
ehe n a n ani kyeree?
2. D en n a ehyee akw antufo no m a w otw aa (asubonten)
K afoor nlettt?
3. D en na em aa A w uraa B a k er patuw him hwee?

B. AKWANTU NO MU AWEREHOW NE BRE

Esiane se B a k er ne n'apaafo nnuan resa nti, woantra
faako an k ye. W oyee osako de aboraa no too mu pern so
koo won anim ara kofaa sare pradada ne nsuwansuwa pii
so, baabi nso a, n a woakoto kw aebirentuw ne ase denkyedenkye, m m epow ne abon ne m u oyee ne aworam a etiti
na ehyehye.
Saa m m ere y i n yin aa B ak er tra ne yere no ho da biara
anadwo si pe. N e nnansa so no da bi anopa a B ak er
soree no, okogyin aa abobow ano se oregye mframa.
O gyina ho a ra n a otee se ne yere reka no breoo se: "M ed a
Onyam e ase. Se na afei n a nani so atetew no, enti
B aker y e e n tem kogyinaa ne m pa ho. W ohw e n aniw a
a, ese obi a ne ti asee! A m p a okasae no, w uhu se adwene
biara nni m u l
B a k er ne ne nnipa no koo won anim ara. Osu pern won
okwan so, nanso wokoe ara. W odu baabi a, w onya nkomfem ku m di, nanso enye daa. B aab i nso a, n a woakonya
ewo, nanso n k u ra a a wokofaa ase no de, woankoto obiara
wo ase, en ti w oannya aduan biara am fi ha.
A k y iri no
okyerewee se : S b e ye nnanson na mennae da. A fei na
miso m u a, enso. D a b i anadw ofa yekoduu akuraa bi ase,
ade ato m e ye re so m pen pii, enti me de, eyee me se anidaso b iara nni ha bio. Mede osako no too fam de no too

105

so osese b i ase na m ekyeaa m e ho m etoo me kete so medae,

efiss na aw erehow ne bre a y e m e se atena. N n ipa no huu
no saa no, wotasee won nnade kohwehwee baabi boo me
yere da. M inyanee na ow ia apue na meboo pitiri sore
hwee me yere na oda ho a n anim a y e se owufo anim. Saa
ade y i m aa me bo tui, nanso m ehwe a, na eye se ohome
breoo. N e hom e no nso nse oyarefo home, m m om ete se
obi a w ad a home. A n k y e na biribi n yan no na obuee
n ani no, n a afei de, n ani so d a ho ara sann. W a n y a
nkw a. N okw a, m ani a egyei, em m a o k a "
Nsemmisa
1. Den nti n a akw antufo no pee se w otra faako, n a den na
am m a woantum i antra?
2. Bobo nneem a a ekyere senea B a k er do ne yere no b i din.
3. Den n a em aa nkuraasefo no tu tu fii nkuraa no ase?
4. Den na ekyere se nnipa no susuwii se A w u raa B ak er
rebewu?
5. Y e B a k er ne ne yere a w a n y a ahooden m fonini wo
w adwene m u, na fa no se woredwene ho se wonko won
anim an aa wonsan. N sem ben n a wobeka a k yere won
ho won ho? D en na wosii no gyinae se wobeyE?

C. OTARE ALBERT NYANZA

W opem so ara koduu a k u ra a bi a ede P arkan i ase,
eho na w okyeree won se efi ho ko nea asu a w ohw ehw e no
da bEye da koro kwan. h a nso m untie nea B a k e r kae;
ose: " D a no anadwo m anna koraa. M fe pii ni a mede
mmodenbo kese ahwehwe asu N il ti. D a biara anadwo
meso ho dae se madi nkogu, nanso nne de, me h aw ne bre
10 6

y i n y in a a akyi, ansa n a ow ia beta no, mehu asu a efi adebo

mfiase okwantufo b iara m m ehui da yi.
Obre, ayare, okam ne am ane ahorow y i n y in a a mu
m anidaso biako ara ne se m ehu saa asu yi, n a eta da b i na
eye s e yereye adi nkogu a, nea ye k a ara ne s e yebew uw u
okwan so mmom sen s e yebedi nkogu asan yen akyi.
N a nn de, so yerebeko akohu asu y i a k a se: " Y e a w ie yen
adw um a?
A d e kyee no, B a k er tu a a ahem a soree, huruw tra a nantwi
so de n ani kyeree nea asu no da ho. Okyerewee s e : " D a
no o w ia fii fefeefe, n a a n k y e n a yekoduu bepow b i ayaase
sian koforoo foforo b i bio. Ahopere kese n a m ede foro
koduu n atifi. M eto m 'an i a, asu no na eda ho hahraa a
m m epow atw a ho a h y ia y i .
"N o k w a , m ani boo so, m e ho san me. A n sa n a medu
ho no, m ekae se anka m 'an i bo asu y i so a, m em a m apaafo
no n y in a a abo won nsam m pen abiesa de a d a O nyam e ase
se w am a yeabehu asu kese 3d, nanso m iduu ho too m ani
huu asu no se eda ho n a m ekaee se enye m e n ko ne onipa
a w a b a Abibirim abeh w ehw e asu y i na m m om nnipa pii
adi m anim nanso w odii nkogu na me na O nyam e aboa me
am a m abehu asu 3d no, m ihui se ahobrease m m om na ese
se m ede meda no ase n a enye ahohoahoa. E n ti m igyinaa
ho ara m edaa O nyam e ase se w akyere m e kw an adi
m 'a k y i, aboa me a fa ohaw ne am ane pii m u de abesi ha.

AKWANTU NO AWIEI
" A f e i yefii ase sian bepow no koo asu no ano pee. Me
na m idi kan kura m e m pam puro pom a bi. Me yere nso ne
y a re no nti w aye m m erew, nanso okura m e m u dii m a k yi
breoo. Y e d e nnonhwerew abien na esian bepow no
koduu ase ho na afei yek o faa asasetaw a sare ne anhwea
107

wo so so koo nsunoa ho pee. A su no bo asorokye se po.

N a mmosea fita a b i sam ano ho n yin aa. Y esia n dun ase
ho n a okom ne sukom a y e yen se a tw a a , en ti meboo yerede
saw nsu no b i nom ee d aa Onyam e ase s e w am a m abedu
asubonten N il ti y i ano pee. Se w oh w e asorokye a sbo
dw ira nsunoa ho no a, ne ie ne hw ee nse. N a ss woto
w 'ani hwe asu no so a, wuhu se sda ho hahraa se epo a
enni ano. A su kese y i n a Y ulio K a esa r ankasa po hwehwee a wanhu n a eha n a asubonten N il m u nsu nyinaa
b sta a ansa n a asen ako mpoano. E n ti asubonten N il ti no
ankasa n i l "

28

HORATIUS HO AS6M
A. NNIPA BAASA NE DOM KESE BI HYIA
taa b a se n n ip a b i de mmodenbo fa akw anside pii mu
y s nneema akese a obiara anni nna so s e w obetum i aye.
Oko a D aw id ne G oliat a oye okofoni fi ne m m ofraase n a
w am ia n 'ak o tad e koe, d ii ne so nkonim k y e re mmodenbo
ne akokoduru. M m aninne a ete see b i n a d a b i Rom ani bi
de gyee ne m an w o a ta m fo ns am.
R om a hene b i a w ofre no T arq u in no y e ahemmone,
en ti a n k y e n a w o tu u n o ade so. K u ro w n o m u m panyim fo n a n a k y i no w odii om an no so; en ti obiara ani gyei de
kom a p a som om an no.
T arquin am pene am m a woantu no ad e so kom m , okogyee baabifo adorn s e ok o tu a R om a kurow . ho hene
m a wode n n aw u ta ne n kyen e pon ne m an fo m pem pem na
wotasee wan ak o d e ne a fra n k a a siim s e w okoko a fa Rom a.
N nipa a etete R o m a nkuraase tee nea ereba no, woguan
kohyee R om a k u ro w no m a to n a atam fo no nsa an k a won,
108

efise woato afasu apipiripi a tw a kurow no ho ahyia.

Asubonten T iberus nso tw a k u ro w no ho dantaban a gye
twene biako p e n a wotum i d e tw a kohyen mu. A b an
dennen b i nso si tw ene no ano p e e wo asuogya a asraafo
worn wen tw ene no ano. E n ti wotee atamfc.nka no,
m m arim a soo akode m u de, nanso na won ani nna oko bi
so, efise ebeye den se atam fo b e n y a kurow no ho kwan.
WoyeE saa m aa as Em faa won mpaase. W on ani b a a
won ho so no, n a atam fo no a to won, na nea etuu kurow
no m u a titiriw no bo koraa ne s e atam fo no faa abankese
a ewen tw en e no. A fei n a anidaso b iara nni ho bio.
Se w oanye n tem an tw a tw ene no a, atam fo no behyen
kurow no m u. N anso anibere a dom no de reba no n ye
nea obi betum i agyin a ano adi sa a dwum a yi. hena na
oreko agye R om a?
A hohia bere y i m u akatakyisem a H oratius a aye tw ene
no ano hw efo no dii y e ade a w ode bEkae no daa. Ono
na bere a oman no ani a tu ato won nsam no, ofi ne pe m u
de ne ho m ae se one ne m fefo b aan u b i beko akopam atam
fo no kosi s e tw en e no beko fam .
O biara k a e se worentum i. b e y e den n a nnipa nhweanhweaa b aasa p e y i betum i ako a tia edom kese a ete see
nnipa beyE apem . renni g y in a n a woatw iw afa wan so.
N anso H oratiu s de, onim se a tam fo no betum i ab a wan so
baasa baasa pe, enti erenye den m m a won se wane won
behyiam .
A m pa-ne-am pa nnipa baasa a wonsuro hwee y i nko
kogyinaa tw ene no ano wo asuogya. Herm inius g yin a
H oratius n ifa n a L artiu s wo ne benkum . A fei ebinom
de atw ap o to o tw ene no so.
S a a bere y i n y in a a n a T a rq u in dom no reba nea eye
den. S e wan n n aw u ta n e m m en gu gu so ara ni. A n k y e
koraa n a w obeduu tw ene no ano. W osusuwii se wobeba

109

abeto R om afo dom kese b i a wade atuo ne asekan afi

rebeh yia won ne won rebehw e ani, nanso den na wohui?
N nipa nketenkete b aasa p s n a w ogyina ho rewen kurow
no. W okotoo won saa no, won ani gyei na wodii H oratius
ne n e m fefo no ho few se: hefo ne m o a m oafi rebehyia
yen y i? M unnyina ho n a y e m fa m o afunu m m a nsu yi
mu n a m ,

B. WOBUBUU TWENE NO
Am onom na won m u akokoduru fo baasa fi bae se wone
H oratius nom rekohyiam a y i won ho m a dom no a n ya
kwan ah yen Rom a. W o n y a de kohwee ani, nanso ammo
ani na wototoe H oratius n k ran te ano. B aasa bi fi bae bio
na won nso totoe. W otuu k u w a eto so abiesa n a wokunIIO

ku m wan nso. A fei T arq u in dam no g yin a e: obiara aba

buboaa. hena na arefi a k a anim bio? M erekasa y i na
wan a w odi nsra no anim pee no aw u anyan. S e wan a
ewa a k y i no teem se: m onka mo a n im " a, tw in tw an ;
eye se wante.
R om afo no hui se tw ene no reye abu no, w oteeem free
H oratius ne ne m fefo no se wonguan mmra.
N anso L artiu s ne H erm inius nko na w ate guanee. H ora
tius de, m m arim asem asiw n aso; atee wan fre dan n ani
no, n a tw ene no ab u dedaw . 8dam no an tu m i annu
kurow no m u. A fei a to ahosepew ne ahurusidi w a Rom a.
M m ea ne m m arim a, m p an yin ne m m ofra n y in a a boom dii
ahurusi. E y i w abete a , H oratiu s a w a g ye wan no mmom
a k a edam nsam. A w ase ap a tu w agu obiara so: H oratius
m m aboraa, w ante ntem anguan bi n ti, a k a ne nko gyina
atam fo dam kese no anim w a asuogya ha. Oto n ani a,
enta obiara anim.
wom , saa bere y i n a w abre na w ap irapira pii de,
nanso wansuro ara. Odan n ani kyeree a ta m fo no.
Osan too n ani hw ee R o m a huu ne nnam fonom pii se
w o gyin agyin a kurow no pon ano de aya m h yeh ye rehwe
no n a nusu abu ebinom kan. A fei, osii ne ti ase baa m pae
tiaa b i free wan bosonkese Tiberus a wade w an ho to no
so n a atow ne ho hwee nsu no mu a w an yi n a ta d e duruduru no po.
O bi anhu ne ho m popoe b iara kosii bere b i a k y i ansa na
w ohuu ne ti se eten nsu no ani na ade mmoden pa reguare.
Dhweam no ano y e den n a atade a ohye no nso n ye nea
w ah ye guare, nanso om iaa n'ani ara kosii se n k akran kakra
obeduu nsunoa.
N e nnam fonom yee ntem de ahurusi tw ee no sii koko
so, n a wan a n'ad e m m aba nti wan were ahow n a wosu ne
wan a wan ani ag ye se w a n y a ne ti adidi m u asan aba wan
h i

nkyen b io no nyinaa boom m aa no so sii kon bo de osebo

ne n teeteem p ii y u w no kohyen R o m a kurow mu.
N ea R o m a kurow y e de d a a okokodurufo kese H oratius ase n a ebesi nne woda so de kae no ne nkae dum kese
bi a nne esi R om a abonten so. S aa nkae dum y i ase pee
na wode sik a akurukyerew nsem a ese:
H w e n akokoduru a ode w en tw ene n o ."

29

NHOMAKYER8W HO ASEM
A . NKYEREW EE

W u g y e di se nsenkyerenne ahorow a ewo h a y i ase ne

den? E ye m fonini anaa n kyerew ee? N okw are m u no
eye n 'ab ien n yin a a bi. E ye m fonini a wode k a asem.
W ohw e m fonini a ewo atifi no a, w u h u m m arim a b aanan
a owo b e a won atifi, eno a k y i w u h u o g ya abien a woaso

ne okorow bi a nnipa baanan te te m u, m fonini a e tw a to

no nso y e o w ia a ereto.
N a saa nsenkyerenne horow y i ase ne den? A se ne se
m m arim a b aan an b i a efi " o w o abusua m u bedii h a
nnanu, n a eno a k y i wofaa nsu ani koo atoe. T e te no n a
senea A m e rik a Indiafo kyerew nen. W ode sekan tw itw a
112

m fonini horow y i wo dua b i ho anaa wokyerew gu dubona

bi so anaase w okurukyerew wo obotan bi so. N senkyerenne ahorow a nnipa de suaa nkyerewee nyinaa se etetee
ara nen. N ea ewo Indiafo nkyerewee no ase no nso y e
tete M isrifo de. A tifi de no kyere: owia, ewim, nsu ne
nsorom m a. A fei m ekyere m o nea ase de no b iara kyere,
m ebobo din kw a, enye senea edidi so wo mfonini no m u:
anadw o, hann, osram, osu, afei m onkyere nneema horow
anan y i b iara ho senkyerenne.
M o n y in a a fii sukuu ase no, m okyerew saa m fonini
nkyerew ee no bi. E ye n a okyerekyerefo no se obiara n ye
n 'an kasa ne ne fi mfonini a, m fonini a m oye no sese abien
a e tw a to no. Enye m fonini ankasa, nanso enye nkyere
wee, n a m m om eye nsenkyerenne a wode k yere nsem
anaa nsusuw ii bi.
A k y iri y i a nnipa hui se nkyerew ee ho
beba w on m faso no, wofii ase hwehwee asem anaa nsusuwii
biara ho senkyerenne, n a woreko so ahwehwe nsenkyerenne ahorow no, wohuu ho n yan sa nso hwehwee okw antiaa
bi a wode bekyere asem a n aa nsusuwii biara, enti afei
nea ekow iei ne se, se w ohwehw e asem anaa nsusuwii biara
ho senkyerenne a, gye se w oh ye da sua. N e saa nti
na ehia se w usua nkyerew ee ahorow bebree.
S a a ade y i h y e bre, enti w ohui se enye okwan p a ; enti
da b i onipa kese bi traa ho ase hwehwee okwan a obefa so
a ye no y iy e . Osusuw ho ara y iy e na ose: "N se m horow
a yed e k asa y i nyinaa n n yigyei kakraa bi na yek ek a bom
de ka. E n ti yebehw ehwe n n yigyei biara ho senkyerenne
na y e a k e k a abom de aka asem b iara." Okaa no saa no,
wam m o ne tirim anhwehwe nkyerewee foforo, na m m om
ofaa nkyerew ee dedaw a an k a wode kyere nsem no de
kyeree n n yigyei horow no. S e ebia, kan no na wofre nsu
se " m e m ." E n ti wokae se worem fa eyi ho senkyerenne
no n yin aa nkyere, na m m om wobefa nnyigyei a edi kan

no nko. E b ia mokae senkyerenne a anka wade k y ere

nsu no: eye nsensan bebree a akantonkonton, ak yiri y i n a
woyee no abien n a a k yriak yiri y i wohuan so yee no biako
a nne adan nkyerewee M yi.
Nhweso foforo bi nso n i: k a n no na wafre aniw a se
oyin. E sian e se " o na efi ase nti, wakae se wade ani
wa ho senkyerenne na ebekyere saa nnyigyei " o ' ' yi.
Enti n k akran kakra aniwa m fonini y i dan senkyerenne a
wade k y ere nnyigyei o .
E n ti y e n nkyerewee nkorenkore y i nyinaa, kan no na
anka eye m fonini: anka A " y e nantw inini m fonini,
" B y e ofi, D y e apon, " F y e atweasee a otua mmen
abien, H y e apataa, " K " y e onipa nsayam , " L y e
g ya ta a o b u tu w ha na P y e onipa ano ne ade. N anso
nne y i de, asakra koraa a w uhu a , vvunhu se kan no na
anka eye m fonini, na bio nso afei de, yede kyere n n yigyei
bi mmora n a y e n w ere fi se k an no n a an ka eye nneem a bi
mfonini.
Nsemmisa
i

T ete beem e no na nnipa n k yerew nsem a eba, wade sie

wan tirim , enti nkw akoraa ne m m erewa k a atetesem
ne nea w osua fi mu kyere n k yirim m a: w a n k yerew n g u
nhom a m u m m a wankan. So ne saa no y e ? Saa
akwan y i ho m faso ne den? A siane an aa akw anside
ben na ewo ho? So wada so y e no sa nne y i ara?

2. Den n ti n a nnyigyei ho senkyerenne a akyiri y i wohui

no y e k y e n nneema de a a n k a k a n wade kyerew no?
3. Den nti n a yetum i de nkyerew ee aduonu abien pe
kyerew asem biara a yep e n a tete Misrifo no de, wade
ahaha na ekyerew?
4. F a m fonini nkyerewee k y ere w asem b i hwe se wo
yanko a w ote ne nkyen no betum i akan ana.
114

B . KRATAA

Y e a h u senea eyee n a nkyerew ee bae. Nanso ansa na

yebekyerew no, gye se y e n y a biribi a yede bekyerew ne
nea yeb ek yerew so. K a n no n a an k a pensere anaa krammen (kyerew dua) anaa k ra ta a a yekyerew so nne 3d nni
ho. T e te no na dubona so n a A m erika Indiafo no de,
wokyerew . W ohwe m fonini e ewo h a yi a, wubehu tetefo

no nhom a horow m fonini.

N ea edi kan no k y ere m fo
nini ahorow a tete Misrifo de kyerew abo so. N ea eto so
abien no y e tete B abiloniafo nh om a b i a wode dote yee.
N e a te te Misrifo no y e e ne se w okurukyerew nsem wo
abo so, eto d a bi nso a, wode nnuru na eye ne m fonini.
no ne nkae dum so n kyerew ee a yed a so k u ra m u de
besi nne y i no. Nanso n a ehia se w onya biribi foforo de
ye nhom a. Asubonten N il a esen fa Misraim no oyee mu
ahorow bi a wofre no " p a p ir o sisi ne kon so nyinaa.
W o tw itw a saa nnuaa 3d paapae m u, boro no ntraan traa
hata. Se w oye no saa a, eye se ntam a teaa tw an n bi.
115

A fei w okeka sisi anim de m anna h ataa bi y e so, n a wade

foforo abeabea so bio am ia so. W aye no saa a, n a a y e se
k ra ta a ten ten teaa bi, n a e y i so n a afei wakyerew.
S a a p ap iro k rataa y i, wade duaa bi a ano fu k u fu k u na
n a eka adu ru bi de y e nkyerew ee no wa so. W ade saa
papiro y i kyerew nhom a horow pii a ebi wa ha de besi nne
y i n a nhom anim fo bi nso tu m i kan.
N ea em aa tete Misrifo dii w an bere sofo n yin aa k a n ne
nkyerew ee a wohui ne papiro a y e a k a ho asem no. N a
enam nhom a so titiriw n a ye n nkyirim m a y i nso n y a tetefo
no n yan sa n e nimdee no bi.
N an so enye nhom a n y in a a n a tetefo no de papiro kyerewee. T e te mmere no m u no, aman bi traa nsubanten
T igris ne F r a t ho a wonim kyerew na wade date y e apon
n tra a n tra a b i kyerew so.
Se w a y e no ne se: wade nnadew a kurukyereew date
apon y i so n a waato am a a y e denneennen. S a a date
apon a nkyerew ee wa so y i b i w a ha de besi nne. N anso
saa date nhom a y i ho wa nneem a bi a enye. ne se:
w o kyerew so a, enka ntem , eso nkyerew ee no y e k an n a, se
w ope se w od e sie nso a, g y e se w oan ya baabi a eso, n a bio
nso apon (ntayaa) a w otum i de y e nhom a b iak o n ye
adew a. N n ip a pii hui se te te Misrifo no nhom a y e sen
am an a a k a no de, enti w akraa papiro fi Misraim ha de ye e
wan de.
N hom anim fo ne anyansafo w a ha 3d, se wohu b irib i a,
wope se am an nyinaa nso hu bi. N e saa no n a e ye, nanso
enye n n ip a n}dnaa na ete saa. Ohenkese bi tra a k u ro w
kese b i a ede Pergam o m u. S a a ahene 3d pee se o n ya
nh om akorabea bi a eso n a eye k yen obiara de.
S a a bere
y i nso n a M israim hene ne onipa a awa nhom a sen obiara.
W am pe se Pergam o hene y i b e tw a ne ho, enti ahwehwee
akwan b i a abefa so asee ne yan k o 3d atirim paw no, ene se

116

ohyee m m ara s e obiara m m a wommfa papiro mmfi

M israim nnko asase foforo b iara so. Esiane s e Misraim
nkutoo n a saa bere no m u w o n ya papiro nti, w ohwe a, na
E ye s e ohene y i asiw n h om aye ano wo nsase foforo so
nen. N anso eto da b i a , akwanside boa yen mmom.
N ea em a nnipa ko won anim ne won akwanside ho nyansa
a w ohw ehw e daa. Pergam o hene no hwehwee ade foforo
bi a obekyerew so, ohui s e Eto d a b i a, nguanhw efo ne
aguadifo kyerew anhom aguan so. Munim se din a yede
fre nhom a a yekan y i ara n a yed e fre oguanhoma. A m pa
Pergam o hene no fii ase kyerew oguanhoma so: ohui
se eye, enti okoo so m a wode yee nhom a horow pii
m aa no. N nipa b i nso tee n k a na won nso de yee ade a
w okyerew so de y e nhom a, n a wokura mu ara m fe haha
pii.
N anso m m oa nhom a o, papiro o, ne n yinaa bo y e den
na eho adw um a y e yen a. S a a bere no nso n a wode nsa
na ekyerew nhom a, ne sa a no n ye ntem, esee bere, enti
ema nhom a bo y e den. E n ti saa bere no na asikafo nko
na etum i to nhoma.
Asoredan m u nso w obeko n a wode nkonsonkonson asa
K y e re w kronkron de a to asorepon so se ebeye na obi
rentum i m m efa nko.
N n ip a a ehwe nhom akorabea
ahorow so nso, woma won ani ku nhoma no ho te se
gyam a eye sika kokoo, se nhom a b i na eho h ia w o a,
wom m m a wom m fa nnko, n a m m om wohwe m u k yerew bi.
E sian e se nhom a ho y e n a saa bere no n ti, nnipa pii
nhaw w on ho nsua k y ere w n e kenkan. N anso saa bere
y i a ra n n ip a b i huu nneem a horow abien b i a ede nsakrae
kese bae. E m u nea edi k a n ne se wohuu k ra ta a ye. ne
se K in a fo huu okwan b i a w ofa so de baka dua ho abon
y e k rataa. Se w oye no ne se: wosiw m a eye betee na
afei w oatretrew mu de b irib i a fa so am a am ia a y e tratraa,
117

se ewo a, n a a y e k ra ta a ara nen. to d a bi a, wade ntam agow y e k ra ta a , eta da bi nso a , w ade sare ne nnua, nanso
ne nyinaa akw an biako y i ara so n a wanam ye. ne se:
wosiw m a eye betebete na w aatretrew m u de ade am ia so
ama a y e tra a . N n e y i de, wade m firi n a esiw ade a wade
y e no, na em u atretrew ne ne m ia no nso, mfiri ara n a wade
ye na w u g y in a ha hwe senea ade y i akafa mfiri m u na
waamia a m a ad an k ra ta a na w atw e no tenteenten b a no a,
eye nw onw a se biribi.
K ra taa a ra n a eye se wade y e nhom a, efise eye tra a na
eso y e to ro toro n a ehoa n a ne bo nso n y e den. no n ti na
nhoma a m okan no nyinaa wade k ra ta a yee no. A k y iri
no m obete ad e ioforo bi a emaa nhom a yee fow nso ho
asem.
Nsemmisa
1. Nhom a a w ade n ta y a a a y e ne n ea wade papiro aye,
emu nea ewa he na wobepe ne kan?
2. A nyam esem m u nhom a horow a y e k a n yi, kan no na
ne n y in a a y e nhom a m m obawee: ene se, emu b iara y e
nhoma tenteenten biako a w aabobaw afa nnua abien
ho. N h om a a ete saa ne nne y i de y i, em u nea ewa
he na w ob ep e ne kan? D en n tia?
3. Tete m m ere no m u no, duaa b i a ano fu ku fu ku na
nnipa ta a de kyerew . W o nso n ea ewa he n a w ope se
wode k yere w , duaa y i bi anaa y e n nne y i kyerew dua?
Den ntia?
4. Den n ti n a k ra ta a a nne y i wade y e nhom a no y e sen:
1. n ta ya a ? 2. papiro? 3. anhom aguan?
5. Den n ti n a k ra ta a fow a eye k y en nneem a horow abiesa
a yeaboba din y i ye m a yen?
118

6. K a n tete no, se Grikifo ne R om afo rekyerew amena

nhom a a, wade dadew a na ekyerew daagyere a waaboro
no tra a so. Se onii no kan w ie a, wotum i nan de popa
so k y ere w no m a wotum i k y ere w so bio.
Y e n nso den n a nne y i y e k y ere w so a, wotum i popa
kyerew so bio?

30

SB BYBE NA OKDM GUI WO ASASE YI

SO
A . N N U AN N E NNUABA AH OROW A WDDE FI ANANAFO
NSASE SO BAE

Aborafo b a a S ik a Mpoano h a kan kyerekyere koraa no,

wataa h u se nnipa pii afom fan n a w ohu no saa a, eye wan
nwonwa. S aa bere no nso n a akam ta a b a A bibirim
aman pii so, n a eba saa a, nnipa pii wuw u. N ne y i nso de,
yentaa n te se akam aba am a nnipa awuw u baabiara.
Den nti n a akam agu koraa saa? B ye aduan ho mmaden
a nnipa horow bae na am a ab a saa.
Den nti n a kan tete no, akam ta a ba? E fi nneema
horow abiEsa: akodi bebrebe, afum duan a w onnya nnua
ne m fuw a w anhw e so n ye no y iy e . Y e b e fa nneema horow
abiesa y i m m iako m m iako ak a ho asem.
D en n ti n a w afre yen ahem fo b i am anhene, anaa adantenhene an aa nifahene anaa benkum hene? E y i bekyerE
wo se te te no aman m u n h yeh yee b iara a w abeye no w aye
ma ako. A m an a ebemmen wan ho wan ho ta a ko, na
aman b i w a ha a wawa wan m fefo ho m enaasepaw daa a
asem k etew a b iara a eba wan n tam tum i m a wako, eba
saa a, am an biako tum i sare kafo w biako no anadw o na

119

m m arim a, m m eane m m o fraa vvorekunkum w on an aa worekyere won no bo bum guanguan ko wuram. W obeba na
nnipa a w o g y aw won w o a k y iri no b i aw uw u n a w oafa bi
nso nnom m um ko, won afi nso n a w oahyehyew afo w won
m fum nneem a nyinaa. S aa ade y i nti obiara n h aw ne ho
nyE afu w p a biara, onim se oye a, otam fo na obeba abefow
akodi. N a se wosee m fuw no sa a a, d ie n a afei nnipa no
n y a nnuan di? E n y a b a sa a a , nea wodi n e nnuaba,
h ab ayere n e hanam. W okyere s e saa bere no n a nnipa no
aduan titiriw bi nso ne k u b e a b a a wonoa de k y e k y ire fra.
N n e y i de, nsakrae kese aba. A kokoakoko a Emma
nnipa aso m u nnwo won no n y in a a agu, n a A san tefo
renso dae s e wobeko akotow a h y e am an a a tw a won ho
a h y i a no so s e w oye kan no. A kasakasa b a oman ne
oman n ta m a , wosiesie no asom dwoe mu. Om annwoe a
aba nti, nnipa y i won anim y e m fuw de dua nneem a horow,
na w onim se eye yie a, wan ankasa n a wobedi.
N n u an ben n a m o agyanom dua nne yi? So w unim nea
efi ne se eyee n a ebaa yen asase y i so? E b ia m ususuw se
ne n y in a a y e asase y i so nnuan, nso ente sa. E m u fa
kese no a ra fi ananafo nsase so, ebi fi M israim n e A burok y iri, n a eb i nso fi A m erika n e A to e India (W est Indies).
A tetesem k yere yen bere a wode nnuan y i b i bae ne
nnipa k o a ede bae. b eye m firih yia ahannm ni a
P ortu gifo d e aburow , n k a te , b a n k y e , borofere n e ntorew a
fi N ifa A m erik a de ahw erew fi N ta m P o ho nsase b i so, ne
a k u tu n e a n k a a nso fi In d ia bae.
no a k y i nso n a Fransefo, E n yiresifo ne D an efo de
nneem a horow , se ebia asaaw a, kokosi, k afe ne akekadu ru
nso bae. A fe i ebeye m firihyia oha ni B asel A sem p atrew
abofo b i nso de m ango, p a y a , o gu aa ne am ankani nso fi
A toe In d ia (W est Indies) bae. N n uaba y i n y in a a yee
yie na ase feee a nne y i ebi y e ehafo aduan titiriw .
120

I. KOKOSI 2. ABOROBB 3. BOROFERE 4. BRET FRUT 5. BORODE

6. AMANKANI 7. OGUAA 8. BANKYE 9. MANGO 10. AS8 II . KOOKOO
12. PAYA 13. ABUROW 14. AHWEREW 15. NKATE l6 . EMO
121

1 ;

Basel A sem p atrew abafo koro y i a ra nso na ede kookoo

baa A kuropon afe 1857. E fii ase sowee no, wode n 'a b a no
bi kaa A b u ri, Mampan ne Odum ase koduae. no a k y i
ansa na T e te K w asi nso de bi fi Fernando Po bae. N kurafo
huu so kw an no, obiara pee se o n ya b i dua, enti saa bere
no na wot on kookoom ua pan b iak o! nne yi senea mo
ara m unim no yen asase y i so ad u aba titirivv ne kookoo na
ama nnipa pii a n y a wan ho.
Nsemmisa
1. B ere ben n a wakaa A san te sa a edi akyiri koraa no?
2. Se A san tefo sore katoa am an a a tw a wan ho a h y ia no
bi nne y i a, den na w abeye wan? (K ae se keteke ne
mfiri ne ahun m u hyen a ab a nti, esono nne y i na esono
kan no).
3. Bobo nnuan bi a wunim se ewa asase y i so fi tete na
vvaankafa am fi baabi din.
4. Bobo nnuan b i a wade fi b aab i bae din na kyere bere a
wade bae.

I..;'
? "*

B . KUADW UM A HO N YA N SA A N N IPA HUI

Nanso m onkae se wabree n nuaba a yeaboba din y i

nyinaa ho ansa na ereye yie. N ea edi kan obi na osusuw
akwan a abefa so de aduaba bi ab a h a no ho ansa na wotumi de bae. Wasao nnuaba pii hwee, nanso enye ne n yin aa
na eyee y ie : ebi de, wode duu h a pe, na awu, ebi nso ta
ape n a entum i nnyin senea en yin wa nea wade fi bae ho,
ebi nso y e y ie koraa na ase fee. Nanso eyinom n yin aa
gyina ad w u m aye ne m m adenba so.
Se ku ad w u m a nso te ara nen. Se nnipa tra ase susuw'
122

akwan a w obefa so aye k u a am a a y e yie, se ebia asase

funtum, adow, aka a w oyiyi, nneem a ho ban a ese se
wabo se ebeye n a m fram a rensee no ho, hwehwe mraoaam moaa ne n yarew a ahorow a ehaw nnua ano aduru nso a,
ede nsakrae kese beba. Momma yenhw e nhweso ahorow
abien y i : te te mmere no m u n a w okyere se bankye a yedi
nne y i y e nw ene na bore nso wo m u, enti anka nnipa regyae
di koraa. E n ti akuafo b i hw ehwee akw an a wobefa so
adua am a a y e yie, na woyee ara kosii se eyee aduan a nne
yi yen n y in a a di yi.
Nhweso a etia abien ne kookoo. B ere a woto kookoo
yiye no, nnipa buu kw ae de ye e m fuw akese de duaa
kookoo. A k y iri y i na yerehu se m fu w no so nnua akese a
wobubu no n ye koraa. Se w obubu nnua nketew a no
gyigyaw akese no sisi m fuw no so a. kookoo no y e yie :
nnua akese y i k a ta kookoo no so n a em a fonwini nso, nanso
se asase no y e kesee na m fram a no m u wo a, kookoo no
nye y e da.
N ne y i a ra A b a n gu so hw ehw e nnuaba foforo a ebeye
ye asase y i so ne kuadw um a ho n yan sa ne m m oaam m oaa
ne n yarew a a ehaw nnua no ano aduru. A kuafo a epe
biribi pa b i a y e no ani gye adw um a pa a Aban reye y i ho,
na w otu w on fo a, wotie.
E b ia m o m u binom bebisa se: D en nti na ese se yeh aw
yen ho h w eh w e kuadw um a ho akw an foforo, nea ewo ho
y i ara n ye? N ea enti a ese se yehw ehw e akw an foforo
ne se nnipa redooso wo asase y i so, nso asase no de, ete
nea ete ara. E n ti se obi wo asase bi a, ese no se obo ho
mmoden m a eba aduan sen kan no. N ne yi kw an a ehafo
fa so y e m fu w y i de, wode resee asase kwa, efise afe b iara
w otutu so kodow baabi foforo. Se nnipa dooso asase y i
so a, ne saa y e no renye y e bio, n a se eba saa a, yeb eye no
den?
t w i -a k

6 5

123

Nsemmlsa
1. K y e r e m m oa ne nnom aa bi a ewo asase y i so fi te te ne
b i a wode won fi b aab i bae.
2. Okwan ben so na onipa biara tum i boa m a kuadw um a
ko anim?
3. Eden na baabi de, a k u a fo dua nneema faako afe biara
nanso eye yiye?

C . ENSE SB YSFERE KUADWUMA HO

Y e a te senea nnipa boo mmoden hw ehwee nyarew a

ahorow ano aduru, afei nso yerekan akw an horow a wofaa
so m aa okom gui asase
so ho asem. N e n yin aa mu
yeh u senea nnipa de n y a n sa ne akokoduru ne mmodenbo
huu nneem a p a b i a enne yeren ya ho m faso. Nanso
ense se yem a esi ho ara, ese ye n nkyirim m a y i se y e to a so,
na yen m u biara nso tu m i y e biribi de boa.
N n ipa a enni adwene n a ebu akuafo an im tiaa; se akuafo
nni ye n m an 3d m u a , a n k a yen n yin aa bevvuwu. Osofo
R eindorf a okyerew abakosem nhom a bi a a g ye din no na
okae se: "A n ib u ei ne nkoso nyinaa iutyinaso ne kua
dw um a, n a oman 3dyedi n yin aa a k y id u a nen. N a se
adesua nti nnipa ani w u kuadw um a ho a, n a nkoso ne
anibuei nen? So opow ne nkoanim ne se y e tr a ho m a
asase p a a ete see m u srade see k w a a y e n y e ho adwum a?
So sare pradada a afe b ia ra yeh yew no k w a y i wode yen
anantw i a, erenye ye? S e A b a n n y a A b ib ifo adw um ayefo
a ohwehwe, n a aguadifo nso n y a won de, n a asafo ahorow
no n y a asofo ne akyerekyerefo a ehia won a, oman y i m u
nhom anim fo a a k a no b e y e den? S e yeanhw ehw e
nnw um a foforo b i a n y e a, d aak ye nhom anim fo pii ade
b eye mmobo se. N tad eh ye ne ahokyere ne afefede akyidi
124

a adw um aye nka ho bem a yeasee mmom, na nkoanim a

yehw ehw e no bedan akyirisan .
S e yehw e am an a ekoo anim tete mmere no m u a, yebenya nhweso horow pii afoa nea m eka y i nsemmoa
Israelfo adwum a titiriw ne kuadwuma ne mmoaycn.
Bere bi a obofo sian b e k a kyerse Gideon se onkoko nnye
ne m an no, na ogu so reporow awi. Saul a oye ohene
mpo, bere a wobeboo no am annee se Y ab es G ileadfo abetoa
won no, na oreka n 'an an tw i. Bere a Sam uel somae s e
wonkofa D aw id m m ra n a onsra no ngo nsi no hene no, na
owo sare so rehwe ne nguan. Elisa nso, Onyankopon
free no yee no odiyifo no, na ode nagya anantw i mpamho
dumien reye adw um a afum .
T ete H elafo no nso ye e saa ara. Won dwontofo Homer
kyere yEn senea H elafo ahem fo ne adehye m po de won
nsa yee adw um a ansa n a worenya won anoduan. Se
yekan won kyerew fo X en ofon nhoma a edi akyiri no bi
nso a, yeh u se H elafo koo anim koraa no, woam m u kua
dwum a anim tiaa da.
N a te te Rom afo no nso e? Obiara a onim Rom ani
K a to asetra m u nsem no behu se wanni m m ofraasem anye
anim guasede bi da. R o m a ahemman no duu ne pompon
so no, wom aa saa onipa 3d kodii amrado am antam no bi
so, sii no safohene m aa no dibea akese p ii oman no mu,
oye onipa a n'ano te w y iy e , oye m m aranim fo na onim
am anyo ho nyansa, nanso okyerew kuadw um a ho nhom a
horow pii a wam fere ho.

Nsemmisa
1. Se nhom anim fo n n y a aborofodwuma nye, nanso wompe
kuadw um a a, den n a ebeye won?
2. So saa nnipa 3d ho beto won ana?
125

3. So oman y i b en ya won ho m faso bi?

4. Den na

e ss

se woye?

5. So am an a ako anim bu kuadw um a anim tiaa?

6. Den nti na ensE se yeb u kuadw um a a n im tia a na m m om
ese se yEn ani g y e ho?
7. F a

o k u a fo

kE se m u

o te n a k u r a a n e n h o m a n im f o

a se tra

a k w a n s id e .

to to

h o , n a k y e r s b ia r a

a ate

k u ro w

h o m fa s o

ne

31

STANLEY
A
Moakan senea L ivin gston e tra a ase no, o k yin k y in A b ibirim paee okwan kod u u A bibirim m finim fini pee. O k yin
kyin hwehwEE a k w a n horow fii nifa, atoe ne apuei fam ,
nanso ogu so rehw ehw e akwan afi b e n k u m fam no, n a
ayare b i baa n o w a A frik a mfinimfini ha a w antum i anni.
B io nso m oakan abarim a k o kob irifo b i a abaa mmoden
ara kaa A frik a mfinimfini ha kahw eh w ee L ivingstone de
nneEma a ehia no kam aa no ho asem. S a a onipa y i din de
H enry M orton S ta n ley. Y ereb ek a m o n e ho asem kak ra bio.
Livingstone w ui na ogu so rehw eh w e asu L u alab a ho
akwan, efise osusuwii se g ya m a asuban ten N il ti nen.
Nanso so eye asubanten N il ti am pa? S e enye enen nso
de a, n a ehe na esen ka? E y i ne a d e a S tan ley de sii
nanim se abehwehwe. N a so otum i h u i ana? Mom m a
yenni n a k y i ne no n tu saa kw an y i n k ah w e senea ekowiei,
na yebehu s e eye akw an tu a asiane n e akw anside pii b a a
mu.
Stanley nim se akwan a arebetu n o n y e akw am m aa,
enti nso osiesiee ne ho yiye. N n eem a ben na m ugye di
126

ofa kurae, n a ne nnesoa no nso obekyekye no den?

N naka akese a n a a nkum aa m u n a ode begu? Onim se
oreko y i, orekofa atare akese ani a tw itw a asu wo okwan m u,
enti ofaa okorow nso kurae. S aa okorow y i oma w oyee no
senea w otum i hunhuan h y e h ye b io eye ahyem m a fefe
bi a biribi a ete se kyinii si so a en ti nnipa te mu a, o w ia
nhye won. S ta n le y ani gyee ah yem m a y i ho se, enti otoo
no A w u raa A lic e .

se

STANLEY AHYEMMA "AWURAA AUCE

Ofi A b u ro k yiri no, obesii fam wo apuei A frika, Z an zib ar

supow no ntentenso na afei ode n ani kyeree kw ae m u ho
koo otare V ik to ria N y a n za ho. O d u u ho no, opee se o tra
n'ahyem m a no m u fa asu no anoano ara san besi n ea
osiim ho ara bio, nanso obree ansa na orenya aharefo.
O biara se osuro, efise nnipa a ete asu no a g ya no y e ah a mufo a wowo akram an bi a w oye k e k a na w otum i de won ko
osa mpo, n a ebinom nso di n n ip a nam , ebinom m po se
12 7

w otete ss nnipa bi wo asu no a g ya ho a w o tu atu a dua,

nan so Stan ley k y e k y se won n tam a ne nhene ne mfetemfetew ade pii de defedefee won ara m a wopene beboaa won.
W osiim , ankye n a ahum kese b i tu i a an k a erebutuw
won ahyem m a no. W odu baabi nso a, n a aham ufo bi a

w oye k e k a abetow a h y e won so, baabi nso de, nnipa no y s

won y iy e tonton nnuan m a won. W onam nsu no ani no,
w o k o tw a a adenkyem ne susono pii ho, nanso woboo
m m oden ara koduu asu no a g ya , n a eho n a S ta n le y kohui
se asu kese bi sen fi otare y i m u. S y e asubonten Nil.
128

Wonam nsu no ani no, da bi wobehwe a, abonto asia

na ereba yi. N n ip a a etete mu no m u b iako y e abafo a
U ganda hene M 'tesa asom a no se om m ehyia wan. Amannee a obofo no beboa w an ne s e : " bey adapen abien ni
ohemmea soo dae n a Oburoni b i te ahyem m a m u reba yen
nkyen, ene se a m p a nne woaba y i." N a abafo no dii
Stanley anim de no kaa ahemfi.
Ohene M 'tesa nso gyee no few so ye e no a y e : omaa no
anantw i a w aada du, m m irekyi ne nguanten dunsia,
kw adu aduru aha, nkoka aduasa asia, nufusu mpare anan,
ntamma atifi anan, aburow momono m m etem aduonum,
emo kotoku kese b iak o, nkesua aduonu ne nsa mpare du.
A fei m untie senea Stan ley ankasa k y ere senea ohene
Mtesa gyee no fae. Ose: "M erepini aka m anim makok y ia ohene p e n a atuxntofo h i ase him atuo, nkyene a
wareka ne afran k aa a edi ahim, nokw a, ese w ani! N a
eyee me nw onw a se apapahw ekw a a ate se me, ahene y i
rehye me anuonyam see. A n kye na afei ohene no saree
onipa tenten te a a b i a ahye batakari na ateee ne nsa
de k y ia a me. E y i a k y i no yetraa ase dii nkamma kakra.
Ofii ase kasae pe, n a m ihui se aye onipa a wapaw koraa na
m ani gyei se otum fo ne onyansafo a ate see rebeye
m adam fo.
Nsemmisa
1. Stanley ah yem m a no te den? K a ho asem kakra.
2. N nipa a ete otare V ik to ria ho no y e nnipa ben?
3. So akw an a ahene M tesa faa so h y ia a Stanley no yee
no nw onwa ana? D en ntia?

B
Stanley traa M te sa n kyen kyee, nanso ne were am fi da
se nea abaa din bae ne asubanten Lualaba a w onnya nhuu
129

faako a esen ko no. Ofi Uganda no, ate n'ahyem m a no

mu befaa atare T a n g an y ik a anoano de hw ee se ebia emu
na asubanten L u a la b a fi ana, nanso ohui se em fi ha. E y i
akyi no anam kvvae no mu ara koduu asubanten Lualaba
go. ye asu kese a ani trew reye a y e borafokwansin
biako. nna S ta n le y se: N a asu y i koraa de, ehe na
esen ka? nye den ara a, asase kese bi d a nea asu y i ani
kyeree y i. Me ne m apaafo nam kw aebiren tu w mu na
abedu ha yi, yeh w ehw e kwan aka yen anim yenhu, enti
me nnipa y i reye a p a abaw. So asu y i n y e akwan b i a
mefa so a, ede me beka akosi baabi?
Stanley hui se im ip a a one wan nam no m pe se wafa asu
no so. W akyere se obi ba ne ho m m usu kofa asu y i so a,
na ano ara na ape ne w u, efise nneema a eye hu pii wo asu
no ho; m m oatia a w an ti akese ne wan bogyese kuhaa
nenam asu no ho d a a kurakura agyan , aw a a wan ho ye
hu sensen nnua m u asu no kan so a obiara a abefa ha
watow gu no so, asasabonsam pii nso wa kw ae no mu a
wan nsa k a w o a, w akyere wo tetew w o n sateaa m m iako
mmiako na nnipa b i w a kw ae no m u nso a w odi nnipa nam.
Stanley hui se ne nnipa no suro, enti afree w an b oaa ano
hyee won den. O kyeree wan se wankae akw antenten a
woatwa abedu ho ne m u amane ne senea w aafa obre a ete
see y i nyinaa ato wan ho so de rehwehwe akw an afi A frika
mfinimfini de akosi mpoano. Ose: M onkae se me nkurofo te m poano ho n a w aye mo nnam fo nso. Mahu akwan
a ede ka ha, ene asu kese a eda yen anim yi. Obi bi
m faa asu y i so da, n a ebia yene nnipa a O nyam e apaw yen
se yenni kan m fa so nkodu mpoano ho. Y iw , me nnamfonom, m igye m idi se yen ara na O nyam e ap aw yen se
yem fa asu y i so nkohw e asase a eda noho no, eye yen
adwuma, enti m om m a yentie Onyam e tum foa no nne.
Mo a moadi m 'a k y i ne me afa atare akese so na moadi
130

m akyi se*mma di won agya a k y i ne abedu ha, so morebegyaw me am a me nko aw u ada am annone ha? Mmerante akokodurufo no wo he? Mise m e ne mo refa asu 3d
ani ako n a m use den? Okasa w iei no, nnipa no penee
se afei wone no beko.
Woresim no, Stanley m aa nnipa no bi faa fam sianee
asu no na one binom traa ahyem m a no m u faa asu no ani.
Oboo A rabiani guadini ne nnipa b i p a a se wone no nko
nkoboa no akw an so. N nipa y i koe kakra kohui senea
okwan m u te no, wopaa abaw san won akyi. N anso
n'ankasa ne nnipa a one won nam no de, wodii no nokw are
dii n ak yi ara kosii akw antu no awiei.
N k akran kakra wokoo won anim nam asu no so kofaa
kw aebirentuw m u, Stanley ahyem m a no na edi kan n a
abonto aduonu abiesa di a k yi. N n ip a a wone no nam no
nyinaa si oha aduanan akron. S ta n le y se: Y ereko no
nyinaa w ubedu baabi na nkoo k u w tu nam w atifi su,
baabi nso n a nkontrom fi akese ne n ketew a tow sisi nnua
mu, wubedu b aab i na adenkyem gu anhw ea so wo nsunoa
to awia, ye d u b aab i nso n a susono h u ye n a, woye koo koo,
na esono nso n y e na wo nsunoa ho. W udu baabiara a,
wobete na m m oaam m oaa su na w oh w e owia a erebo ne
asu a esen breoo ene kw aebirentuw a am a so a y e fomm no
a, na eye fe se biribi."

Nsemmisa
1. Den nti n a Stan ley apaafo no am pe se wone no tra
abonto m u fa L u alab a so ko n anafo?
2. Den na em a wopenee se wone no beko?
3. Nnipa baahe ne abonto ahe na S ta n le y de kofaa asu no
ani?

I
ig
!J :

s
I
!.,
:l

i '

m :

hj:

Ui.

E
c-

N neem a horow anan na ehaw Stanley n 'ak w an tu y i

mu. N ea edi kan ne oyare . Nnipa a wane S ta n le y nam
no pii yareyaree n a ebinom nso wuwui. E ta da b i a, na
S ta n le y afa obonto b iak o apaw ayarefo no n yin aa agu mu
hw e wan worn.
A d e foforo a ehaw wan nso ne nnipa aham ufo a etete
asu no ho saa nnipa y i b i y e nnipa n kw atian kw atia bi a
w aw a agyan bi a bare w a ano, ebinom nso y e nnipa akopefo a w ahye da tr a akorow mu b a nsu no ani besiw wan
kw an na wosi nsunoa anadw ofa se wakape b aab i ad a nso
a, n a wahaw wan. W on a enye koraa ne wan a edi nnipa
nam no, se wohu se w areba see a, n a w okurakura won
a k yem ne m peaw a n ta k ra tu atu a wan ti nhw i m u abegyin agyin a nsunoa teeteem se: "N a m o! N am aba o,
B o B o B o Bo ! B o B o B o B o o o o ! "
Eye saa
a, n a nnipa a ene S ta n le y nam no nso a g ye so se: " S e u
neu n e h ! Seu neu n e h ! Ase ne " B reb r e, brebre!
N anso emfa nnipa aham ufo y i ho na wane wan ko ara.
D a bi de, nnipa b eye mpennu a wareba ose k a nkyene
hyen mmen tete akorow m u besiw wan kw an asu no ani.
S ta n le y nkurafo no to to w wan m u atuo m aa ehu k aa wan,
enti afei wan ara tw a a won ho ne wa ho wan ho koe.
E yee saa no, S ta n le y ne ne nnipa no n y a a k w an sen kae.
W ane nnipa horow h y ia koe saa ara b eye m pen aduasa.
W akoe nea eto so aduonu awotw e no a k y i no, n a nnipa no
m u wan a entotae b e y e aduasa pe. E y i m aa Stanley
abasam tui, enti akyerew ee se: L ivingstone k a e a m p a se
obi fa asu y i ani befa k w ae mu ha a, na w adi mmofraasem,
m abefa ha mahu m ani so ade na nsem a m erekyerew yi
m po m ibisa me ho se: so obi behu akan an a.
132

Wobree m u saa de, nanso baabi de, w odu a, nnipa no

ye wan y iy e koraa. B a ab i a ede Chum biri de, nnipa no
gyee won few so, ohene no yee won hoho m aa won baabi
pa trae. W an ho taa wan wa ha na d a a warefi ha no,
ahene no tuu nnipa aduanan anum se w onkogya wan
kwan.
W ofi ha no, wokoduu otare fefe bi a ak yiri no watoo no
Stanley atare so. E y i ak yi no w okoh yiaa akwanside
foforo bio. ne se watee aworo kese b i n k a wa akyirikyiri. W arebeka no, N tam o hene I t a a h y e won ase de
daw se wabeka akato aworo abiesa a nea edi biara so no
so sen nea edi anim no, enti wofre aworo abiesa y i aba,"
" ena ne a g y a . W ofi eno so a, wabeka akato nea eto
so anan a wafre no " dadesen a etu wusiw. A m pa woduu
ha no, wabree m u ; wan akorow abien ne nnipa baakron
fii wan nsa. S tan ley were howee se, efise n ankasa ne
booni a ade K o lu lu fra nnipa a asu no fa a wan no mu.
A kyiri y i wade S tan ley din too saa aworo no.
Stanley resim no, n a Aborafo baasa k a ne ho. A fei
de, n a obiako b i a ade F ran k Pocock n ku too na w aka na
ano m po w a ye ayarefo a ata apakye. W oduu Massassa
aworo so no, w akae se an ka nnipa bi m fa akorow no n yinaa
m fa fam, m fa P o cock nto aham ankaa m u nka nnipa no
ho nkohyia wan baabi, nanso Pocock am pene na mmom
atraa akorow m u fa a aworo no so koe. Awerehosem ne
se, w ankod u: asu no faa no akwan mu. Dkorow a ate m u
rebutuw no, na S ta n le y adi kan akogyina baabi de k y ik y i
rehwe aworo no, enti ohuu nea ebae nyinaa. Ose:
Mihuu ade tenten tuntum b i se em unum m unum wa
aworo no mu. A k y in n ye biara nni ho se eye akorow b i a
abutuw na eye se nnipa pii tetare h o ." Wabaa mmaden
gyee nnipa no mu baawatwe nkwa, nanso F rank Pocock
de, obi bi ani anhye ne ho bio.

133

B'

Nsemmisa
1. K yere akw anside abissa a ehaw S ta n le y ne n ahokafo
no?
2. K yere nnipa n k w atian k w atia a S ta n le y kohuu wan no
atenten ne w an akese? A kode ben n a nnipa y i de
hyiaa S tan ley nom ?
3. F a no se w o ne S ta n le y nom na enam, n a k a senea mo
ne nnipa bi a edi nnipa nam kakoe.
D

.v.

MI;
t; .

C-

hi;

l':

I'K
Jii

A fei n a S ta n le y y e ne h o biara a, enye y e , n ahokafo a

waafi ne nsa no am a w adan ankonam , en ti n e w ere howee
se. N apaafo no nso p a a abaw , enti w ofii ase tew atua.
A su no ho hu k ita a w an n yin aa na n n ip a a wakatoo wan
ha no nso y ii wan hu se: Ahonhom a ewa aworo y i mu
no rebekunkum m o n yin aa. N anso e y i b iara am fa
Stanley ho, akaa n anim ara kotw aa aw oro a eye hu pii ho.
Saa aworo akese y i daaso wa asu K o n g o so n a esesa m u
ara beye borafokw ansin aha aduosia. E yin o m nyinaa
ak yi ansa na w akatoo Isangila aworo. O kwantuni b i a
ode T u ckey fi m poano abedu aworo y i ho pen, enti
Stanley duu ha no, ohuu nea w adu n a ohui se L u alab a no
ara ne K ongo am pa. W obeduu ha no, w ohui se aworo no
pii da so wa w an anim ara, enti S ta n le y k a e se obesi afa
fam aka m poano. E n ti w ofi wan akorow no m u sii fam na
Stanley m a w om aa ahyem m a no so g y ig y e e no breoo
katoo abotan bi so wa aw oro no atifi.
Afei na wadi akw anside ahorow abiesa so, ak a nea
eto so anan no: ene okom, na eyi de, a n k a ereye akunkum
Stanley ne n ap aafo no nyinaa. Cne s e : w od u u b aabi no,
na won aduan a w okurae reye asa, nso n a aduan ho ye
na. N nipa no n yin aa afom fon na baabi m po de, wode

134

okom anibere ko w iaa aduan; wokofae no, wogyaw nhene

ne sika se anka nnipa no m m e fa n tu a ka, nanso won a
nnuan no y e won de no bo fuwii to to w a tu o guu won so na
Stanley bree ansa n a oretumi a p a ta won.
W oduu Isangila aworo so no, S ta n le y kyekyEE ne ho
nneema a a k a n yin aa sika, nnuru, n tam a ne ade m aa
napaafo no se w om fa nkosesa aduan nni n a woatumi ne
no akodu E m bom m a, eho na wobeko akoto Aborofo a n y a
aduan afi won nkyen . Nanso eno m po wode koe, aduan
a wonyae y e k a k ra a bi. A fei n a o b iara a y e mmerew.
Stanley p ia won, nso wopem so a, ewae. Woboo mmoden
koe kakra, w obedu baabi a, ahem fo b i se wom fa mmorosa
mm etua akw anne ansa na wonsen. A fei na eye se a k a
kakraa na w oadu m poano no m m om n a okom rebekunkum
won.
Nanso S tan ley y e onyansafo. O traa ase susuw ho na
ankye na adw ene bi too ne tirim . ne se: a k a nnansa pe
na wadu E m bom m a, enti oboo ne tirim se obesoma obi de
nhoma akom a ne nuanom Aborofo a ewo ho no. N e k ra
yiyeyiye o k o n ya a aberantew a b i a onim ho. Stan ley
free no traa ase b isa a no se: " W u n im E m bom m a a n a ? "
nna ose: " Y i w , m inim ho, m esoa n k ate ko ho daa
koton. nna S ta n le y se: "M erebesom a w o ho. W oko
a, mem a w o ne m apaafo y i b aasa ako na woakohwe
okwan no.
N a aberante no se: W ubetua m e ahe?
N a S tan ley se: B irib iara a w o p e."
Aberante no penee, enti S ta n le y tra a ase kyerew
nhoma a ode besom a no no.
Nsemmisa
i . Stan ley duu Isan gila aworo no so no, den na ema ohui
se eho n a w adu?

135

2. Akw anside a eto so anan a S tan ley h yiae ne nea ewo

he?
3. K y e re senea eyee na odii saa akw anside 3d so?
4. to da bi a, n a sika, sika kokoo, d w ete ne abohem m aa
ho nni mfaso. A basem y i m u asem ben n a edi eyi ho
adanse?
E

N h om a no m u nsem n i:
N sanda,
Osannaa d a a eto so 4 ,1 8 7 7 .
i:
?i!

' . ,
-.2

nkom a Oburoni b ia ra a ate Enyiresi k a sa wa Em bom m a.

O w ura pa,
Me ne nnipa aha aduonum m m ariraa, m m ea ne mmofra fi Zanzibar abedu ha, nanso m prem pren de, yewo
ahokyere kese m u : ene se akam reye a k u n k u m yen njdnaa.
Y e n n y a hwee n ta w a ha, efise ehafo m m u sik a anaa nhene
an aa ntam a a yed e b e tu a wan k a no. E n ti m asoma
m m erante baasa y i se wommesre wo n a b eb oa me kakra.
M innim wo, nanso obi ak yere me se Enyiresini bi te
E m bom m a na esiane se minim se w o y e okristoni nti,
m esre wo, m fa asem 3d n h ye kete ase nna, efise yerehu
am ane. E h ia m e n tam a ahasa a b iara b e y e asin abien,
nanso nea ehia m e sen biribiara ne emo b e ye akw abran
dunum atifi. no ho hia me y iy e , efise am m a ntem
a , m innim nea nnipa no beye. kaw b ia ra a wobebo no
m eba a, m etua.
Mesre wo g y e m e di.
Me,
W o de pa,
H . M. St a n l e y .

136

N kekaho:
E b ia w ontee m e din da, me ne S tan ley a mikohuu
Livingstone afe 1871 m u no.
Stanley de nhom a no somaa aberante no ne n apaafo
baasa no. A d e k y ee no, one ne nnipa .no tutuu so kakra
koduu akuraa bi a ede B anza M buko ase. ho na
wotwenee de hw ee abofo no kwan. W otete ho no, ss wode
kwan so hw e ara ni. D a bi wogu ho saa ara na obi teeem
se: " N nipa no n a ereba n o ! A n k y s n a ebinom gyee so
se: " E i, woreba am pa, eyi de, aduan aba. Y s d a Onyame
a s e !"
Abofo no m u b iako a ode Ubdi de am m irika koo Stanley
nkyen koka kyeree no se: "O w u ra, yeab a! Yekotoo
Aborofo no, w o g yee ye n few so yee ye n y iy e . H we, yede
nnuan pii a b a ! "
A n k y s n a wofii ase sosoo ogya ano de nnuan sisii so na
wofa baabiara a, w uhu se afei de, an igye aba. Stanley
kyerew nhom a kom aa nnipa a wade nnuan m enaa no fi
Em bom m a no de kodaa wan ase, ose: M erentumi m fa
m ano nna m o y iy e bebrebe a m oay e m e y i so ase. Mprempren de, nea m e ne m e nnipa no ani wo so ara ne aduan
ne adidi, enti m erentum i nka pii, nanso merema m oate
se me nnipa no ani a g y e n a wode a n igy e na ereka se:
" Y e n w ura y i abeh u epo ne ne nuanom am pa. Okae wo
okwan m u no, yea n n y e anni, ode emo ne m pataa 3d kyeree
yen yi ansa n a ye a g y e adi. A n ka yennim se asu kese yi
ano si baabi, nanso okyena de, yebehu Aborofo n a yen
ahohia ne ko bebrebe y i to betwa. A seda nka Onyankopon. W oka w iei no, woboo wan tirim yee won gye
y i ho dwom toe.
W osiim fi Z an zib ar no, nnafua apem na wode koduu
Em bom m a ho. S ta n le y kyerewee se: Y ekoduu Embo*
137

mma Osannaa d a a eto so 9 ,1 8 7 7 n a okom ne bre a ye yen

se atena. Aborofo aguadifo e ewo kurom ho behyiaa m e
m aa me akw aab a n e mo-ne-ko. E y i a k y i nnansa m ikogyinaa mpoano m ehw ee nea asu K o n g o bo po m u ho.
Medaa O nyankopon ase s e wadom a h w e m e so okwantenten a m itw a hi A p u ei A frik a besii A to e h a 3d mu. M 'ani
gyei saa de, nanso m ekaee biribi a em aa m e were howee:
Ene me nnam fo ne m ahokafo a etotoe okw an mu n o ."
Senea S tan ley a k w an tu no besii ni, eye akw antu a
akwanside ne a h y ia k w a pii worn, nanso ebuee A frik a
asasepon 3d ho ahintasem biako so n a em a wohuu okwan
foforo a eko A frik a mfinimfini.
Ansa na S ta n le y beko fie no, ode n n ip a a Ene no tu u ne
kwan no n yinaa ko fa a N ifa A frik a (Cape o f Good Hope)
mpoano de won koo won kurom wo Zanzibar, n a afei
n'ankasa sii hyen m u koo A burokyiri.
Nsemmisa
1. Den nti n a S ta n le y kyerew wo om ena nhom a no ase se
ono na ohuu L ivingstone?
2. Nnesma ben na S tan ley k yerew nhom a no kobisae?
3. Abofo no san bae no, den na nnipa no y e de kyeree se
won ani agye?
4. Stanley duu m poano ho no, den n a em aa n ani gyei na
den na okaee a em aa ne were howee?

32

KUMAWU HENE TWENEBOA KODIA A

OWU GYEE OSANTEMAN
Tete mmere no m u no na an ka Dank3dra y e oman a
ewo tum i m po sen Osantem an. O santehene Osee T u tu
138

a abemaa O santem an so no m po D a n k yira na woyen no,

na woka s e ne b a ne D an kyira hene N tim Gyakari.
Atetesem b i k a se Osee wo D a n k y ira no ara na ohuu
Okomfo A n o k ye fa a no adam fo, enti obedii ade no, ankye
na A nokye b a a A sante, na w okyere s e saa bere yi ara na
one Osee b eyee A san te A sikagua a a g ye din no.
Ene s e A n o k y e de betoo O santem an anim s e Onyam e
asoma no se om m eye A san te oman kese a ewo tum i,
enti Osee T u tu m a w ohyiaa Osantem an mu ahemfo
nyinaa bae m a wobeboo g u a kese Kum ase abonten.
E gua no m u ho ara na wokyere se A n o k ye nam anwonwakwan bi so g y ig y e e A sikagua y i breoo fi ahun mu baa fam.
W okyere se agu a y i ammeto fam , n a mmom ebetoo
Osee T u tu nankorom a so.
A nokye h y e e ho nkom se: O santem an sunsum, won
ahooden, won tum i ne agua yi, enti wommma ennka fam
da, onipa bibiri b iara nso n n tra so, ofiri m m fa ne ho n nka
na se wode n a k yid e y i biara k a no a, Osantem an begurow
na abo. E fi ho na Osantem an n y in a a fii ase som agua
yi, na eyi k a a oman no boom m aa won ahooden ne tum i.
D an k yira hene N tim hui se O santem an resore saa no,
onyaa won ho ani bone. E n ti o g yig ye e won pee s e one
won ko de b re won ase. D a b i osom aa abofo baasa koo
Kum ase kosee O santehene se one ne m an m m rs no sik a
kokoo a y o w a b i m a, O santem an m u hene biara m m a
womfa ne y e y e re n ka ho m m re no, n a ahem fo no yerenom
nso mpe m posae m m a wom fa m m re ne yerenom.
Osee T u tu h y ia a n ahem fo n y in a a b a a Kum ase de asem
y i too won anim . W otee n k ra a N tim m a wode bae no,
won bo fuw ii n a wohwee abofo no pam won, sesaw abo h yee
ayow a no m a. W okyere se a y o w a y i si Kum ase de besi
nne.
Abofo no koboo N tim am annee no, ose Osanteman atw a

139

no poa, enti one w an n e ko. Osiesiee ne ho b e y s asram

abiesa. O kogyee K a n k a n Borafo adorn m a wom aa no
akode, kogyee D am pon hene bi a ode Ofori Korobon nso
adorn.
Osee T u tu nso, w ohw ee abofo no m a wasan kae nti,
onim se edan den a ra a , N tim beba ab etoa no, enti ano
nso siesiee ne ho som a kaa m poano kogyee a tu o ne aboba.
S aa mmere y i n yin aa n a Okamfo A n okye nso gu so reyi ho
m m usu. Okyeree ad u ru b i m a wahyee, h yee ho nkam
s e : A san te ahem fo n y in a a rebenom ansa n a waaka akono,
nanso wan m u nea o b e tu ne puw no beta, ata a , erenkye
n a D a n k yira hene N tim nso ata na O santem an adi nim.
A hem fo no tee no sa a no, obiara am ps s e obetu puw no,
enti K u m aw u hene T w eneboa K odia de ne ho m ae, gye
nomee. Saa here y i a ra nso na A k w a m u hene Ansa
Sasraku m aa ne safohene b i a ade D w iran tw i de dom bae
s e wammEboa Osee, n a afei wan n yinaa siim k o b o a nsraban
wo baabi a ede A d u n ku .
N tim tee se Osee ab ed u ha no, ne ho peree no se abeka
a k o h yia no. W akyere s e anadwo m u no n y in a a ane ne
dam no gorui, gyee w an ani pii, na akae se: " D a b i a
m edu A dunku, m ed a."
D an k yirafo dam no n y a beduu A d u n ku ne A san tefo de
h yeh yee so koe ara nnansa ansa n a w aretum i a k a Asantefo
agu. Oko no den A san tefo wa A d u n k u ha, enti A sante
ahem fo no kobisaa A n o k y e s e ete den. A n o k ye kyeree
wan s e bere no n n y a n n u i n a ahye wan nkam se Feyiase
n a ako no begu. A m p a wade ako no k ah yeh yee so bio
wa F eyiase na a n k y e n a ahene T w en eboa K o d ia tae.
E y i a k y i D a n k yira hene N tim nso tpe nsram ha m a wakaa
ne dam no gui yee wan pasaa. E n ti n a wade y e e akasabebui s e : " D a n k y ir a hene N tim soaa ne m an kabaa no
F e y ia se ."
140

N ea Osee de d aa Okomfo Anokye ase ne se okyee no

nnipa ahasa, m pireguan aha ne sika kapo biako, sii no
hene p agyaw no oman no mu. Ahem fo a aka no nso
k yek yee no nnipa n e sika. N nipa dodow a Anokye nyae
y i na ode won koyee A gona man a ewo A san te nne y i no.

33

NHOMA T 1NTIM
A

Nsem a edi anim no m u yeate senea worefi ase akyerew

no, woyee no se m fonini ne senea a k yiri y i edan yee
senea ete nne 3d no. B io nso yeate senea an ka wokyerew
nneema horow so se ebia abo, ntayaa, papiro ne anhomaguan (oguanhoma) ne senea akyiri 3d nnipa huu k rataa ye.
Saa mrnere y i n y in a a na nsa ara na wade kyerew nhoma,
enti nso nhom a bo n y e se a aberewa we koraa. Se okyerewfo b i fiti nhom a bi kyerew ase a, ekye ansa na owie,
eto da b i a. g y e se obo mmoden y iy e ansa n a ode asram
abiesa anaa an an w ie. K enkan nhom a a eku ra wo 3d nye
nhoma kese bi, nanso w o ara hwe bere ko a wubetum i de
wo nsa akyerew nhom a m u no nyinaa. A k y ir i y i wohuu
okwan b i a em aa nhom akyerew yee ntem n a emaa nhoma
yee fow nso: ene nh om a tintim .
D en ne tintim ? E b ia mo mu pii ahu se obi retintim
pen, ebia enye nhom a n a oretintim na m m om adwini na
oredi ntam a b i m u. W obehw e na aduru p ik a a bi ta a ade
m u si ne n kyen n a nneem a bi a wode koragow anaa agude
a y e a adw ini no w ow o so nso gu ne nkyen. Oyere n tam a
no wo fam b aab i a eye tam aa, na afei ode ade a adwini wo
so no b i abo aduru no m u de akobo ntam a no nso mu. W ugyina ho a, enkye w obehw e na wadi n tam a no mu adwini
141

fefeefe. N e nsa ase ye hare, nanso onye mfomso: ohyehye biribiara pepeepe. Dye nso a, en kye n a ewo. A dw ini
a odi n tam a no m u y i ma eye fe n a ema edensow nso,
efise ente Se Aborofo de a vvode fi A b u ro k y iri b a no.
Okwan a y e a k y e re y i ara so n a w o fa tintim nhom a,
wosen nkyerew no fefeefe wa d u a a n a a agude b i so, n a
woretintim a, wode abo aduru m u de ak o m ia ntam a an aa
krataa no so. W oye no saa a, nkyerew ee biako pe no
tumi y iy i nkyerew ee mpempem bere tia a bi mu.
N a ehena n a ohuu tintim ho n yan sa kan? W anhu saa
ade y i d a ko ro : ebae nkakrankakra n a enam nnipa horow
nyansa ne m m odenbo so na ebae. T e te Babiloniafo no
kwan a w ofaa so kurukyerew n ta y a a so no y e tintim m u
ahorow bi, n ta m bere no mu nso n a wode nnuaa a woasen
anaa agude a nkyerew ee anaa adw ini b i w o so tintim n tam a
anaa aban m u nhom a so. Nanso y e b e k a se nnipa a ehuu
tintim kan ne K in afo , won de, efi te te no, n a wonim senea
woyi nkyerew ee an aa mfonini gu d u a b i so de aduru k a so
de tintim k ra ta a so.
A nka okwan a w ofa so tin tim nhom a nso ara nen:
w oyiyi nkyerew ee no gu nnuaa asinasin so na woatase no
mmiako m m iako abobo aduru m u de akobo k ra ta a so.
Saa ade y i n y e n tem na ema n h om a no bo y e den nso,
efise worebeye a, ehia se w o y iy i k r a ta fa b iara so nkyere
wee no n y in a a g u dua traa bi so, enti. se k ra ta fa oha n a
ewo nhom a bi m u a, ehia nnua n tra n tra a no oha saa ara.

N a afei ehena n a ohuu kw an a em a nhom a tintim y e

ntem na em a nhom a y e fow y i? Germ aniani bi a ode
Gutenberg n a ohuu saa ade y i b eye m firih yia ahanum ni.
Saa onipa y i a d w u m a ne se odi agude so adwini. Ote ho
142

ara na d a b i okae se: " M eyiyi nkyerew ee ahorow a yede

kyerew y i m m iako mm iako m agu agude asinasin so.
Mebo mmoden m a ye biara p ii na m atum i de m ahyehye
nsem nkorenkore a mede m ekyerew nhom a. A fei m ehyehye nsem no nkorenkore wo dua tra a b i so de ade am ia no
penn, afei m ede adubiri m eka so n a m ede krataa m afam so
ama nsem no ayi agu so. Se m itin tim kra ta fa biako pii a,
m edwiriw n kyerew ee no de a h y e h y e k ra ta fa foforo so d e ."
Ode ose y e e oyo fii saa adw um a y i ase. Obree ne y e ho,
nanso b iak o b ia ra a oyee no otum i de dii dwum a horow
pii. Ofii ase y e e no saa no, em aa nhom a tintim y e e
ntem n a em a eyee fow nso. n ye e y i nko, w otintim no
saa no, w okan a , wommre ho se nea wode nsa kyerew no.
N hom a kese a G utenberg tin tim ii kan ne K ye re w
Kronkron. A n k y e na nnipa h u i se ade foforo a G uten
berg akofa a b a 3d y e koraa, n a wofii ase suasuaa no A burokyiri nkurow akese n yinaa m u, en ti an k ye na nhom a fii
ase ye e fow m a a obiara tum i too b i kanee.
N nipa b i w o ho a ade foforo b iara a eba no wokasa tia
anaa woto ho m pe. N a w u gy e di se nnipa ben n a ekasa
tiaa fene foforo a a b a so no? E ye asikafo ne nhom anim fo
akeseakese. A sik a fo no anw iinw ii no ase ne se, wan
nhoma a wow a n y in a a y e nea wode nsa kyerewee n a enti
watoo no abooden, okwan foforo a woahu y i rebem a
nhoma a y e fo w am a ahiafo m po a n y a nhom a se won ara,
nanso wom pe no sa. N hom anim fo n o nso de ne se: kan
no n a an k a w on n ko ne nhom anim fo a obiara a ope b irib i
asua b a won n k y e n ; afei nhom a a erebebu so nti, o b iara
remma won n k y en adesua bio.
Nanso o b iara an tie nnipa apesem enkom inyafo y i asem
na wokoo so tin tim nhom a ara, en ti a n k y e koraa na nnipa
pii hui se G u ten b erg kw an no y e okw an p a koraa. A h ia fo
pii boo mmoden boaboaa sik a ano de totoo nhom a de
143

suaa kenkan, na em aa wan ankasa nso fii ase susuw ns era

horow ho.
O nyansafo bi n a d a b i okae se: S s obi se abeye me
ahenkese, de me a tr a aban akese a nturo a eye fe a tw a ho
a h y ia mu, am a m e sik a ne nnuan p a ne nsa ne nteaseenam

NHOMA TINTIM AFIRI

(Cropper-Charlton Acme* Platen)

IS: :
i i f : ;

BO

hf>

ne n tam a p a ne asom fo m pem pem , nanso m inni nhom akan ho kw an a, ende m erenni hene no da. N ea m ede meye
ahene a am ps nhom akan no, ende m enys ohiani buroburo
a m ete m popadan m u n a nhom a a tw a me ho a h y ia ."
E fi se G utenberg h u u tin tim no, nnipa ahu ho nyansa
pii bio. W aays m firi aksseakese a sm a nhom a tin tim y s
ntsm . N e saa nti nh om a a y s fow, n a afei de, o b iara tum i
to nhom a biara a ape k a n h u nnipa akese ne anyansafo
nsem a w aakyerew am a nkyirim m a.
14 4

Nsemmisa
1. D en nti na tin tim nkyerew ee a wotumi dw iriw hyehye
n o foforo no ho wo m faso?
2. D en n ti n a nhom a a wade nsa akyerew bo y e den sen
nea woatintim ?
3. Se wobo okyerewfo b i p a a se onhwe nhom a b i so m fa ne
nsa nkyerew nhom a m u no nyinaa m m a w o na nnawotw e biara w u betua no pan biako {1) na ade nnawatwe
du kyerew wie, n a k ra ta a ne adubiri a ade kyerewee no
nso bo y e siren abien a, n a saa nhom a foforo y i bo
b eye ahe?
4. D en nti n a nhom a a woatintim nye kanna se nea wade
nsa akyerew ?
5. D en n ti n a w aka se k ra ta a a wohui ne tin tim a ebae y i
wade bedom ahiafo?
6. S a a nneema 3d b aa so no, nnipa pii kan doe se wobehu
nhom akan. D en ntia?
7. W ato nhoma bi y iy e a, n a wotumi tan no aboammerew.
D en ntia?
8. B oba T w i nhom a horow a wunim nyinaa din.
9. W u gye di se w obetintim foforo aka ho?
10. Se mo nso m unyin a, den na mobeye de aboa?

34

TETEFO NO ASETRA
A . SENEA EYE N A YETE MPANYINSEM

M ugye di se kan te te no n a anka yen asase 3d so te den?

Adan a nnipa tete m u no te den? N nuan ben na an ka
wodi? A ta m ben n a wofura? D wum a ben na wodi?
Y en tum i m m ua saa nsem y i biara yiye, efise woankyerew
145

h o n sE m

b ia r a a n n y a w

y e te

akosem

ye

nko

n k y ir im m a , te te fo n o h o n s s m
ara .

N an so

se

yeba

m m oden

a
a,

y e b e n y a k a k r a a k a a r a , e fis e e y e s e y e b e t e t e t e fo n o a s e t r a
ho n sem d e a to y en n ne y i d e ho.

i '
l.

11

'i;
.a

Nsemmisa

0;
;!j

H
Is

Nsem a yereb ek a y i mu fa kese fi asafo K a rl Christian

Reindorf S ik a Mpoano abakosem nhom a no mu, w otintim
saa nhom a y i afe 1895 mu. N a m u g ye di se ehe n a okotee
atetesem y i n yin aa de yee n h om a yi? N an kasa se:
"M e no, m ep e m panyinsem tie, en ti nso minim ye n asase
yi ho atetesem pii, se m eka no sa a a , enye ahohoahoa: m e
nananom a ewo N kran ne Osu n y in a a fi abusua b i a edi
abosom asofo m u. N a me m po, se m anye okristoni a,
anka m edi abosom bi sofo. Y e y e m m ofra no, yen
nanabea t a a k a yen m panyinsem an adw ofa an adw ofa.
A berew a y i w ui no, osafo R ein dorf kaa so tiee m panyin sepi fii n n ip a pii anom : nnipa a akaa wan n k yen b e y e
ahanu. O tee no saa no, ode ne n y in a a totoo ho hw ehw ee
mu nea o g y e di se eye nokware no, boaboaa ano. E nye
eyi nko, akenkan nhoma horow pii de m u nsem no k a a nea
nankasa nim no ho, na ade ye e S ik a Mpoano abakasem
nhoma a y e a b a din dedaw no.
N a den n ti n a ahaw ne ho y e e eyinom n yinaa? N ea
n ankasa a r a k a ne se: "O m an b ia ra abakasem m a w ohu
senea am an no te tete mmere no m u, n a eye se n k yirim m a
hu na w ade a to wan bere so de ho ah u se wan m an reka
anim a n a a eresan a k yi, na w aafa ho adw ene de ab u wan
bra. S e am an bi n ye saa ade y i a, warenka anim p a p a
biara d a .

(, ;

1. Den nti n a ese se yehu yen atetesem ?

2. Osafo R ein d orf tee m panyinsem a ode yee ne nh om a no
fii n k w a k o ra a ne m m erewa nkyen , na akan bi fii
146

nhom a m u nso. Nea ew d he n a w ugye di se eboaa no

yiye? N ea w aka kyeree no no, anaa nea okanee wo
nhom a m u no? D m ntia?
3. E beye afe 1850 mu na w okaa saa nsem yi kyeree
Osafo Reindorf, fa no se saa bere no na aberewa a
okaa no sa a m panyinsem y i adi m firihyia 80 na nsem a
akae no b ae no, na ano aberew a no adi m firihyia 10 pe,
enti efi bere a nsem no bae no de besi nne y e m firihyia
ahe?
4. Okwan b i so no aka a wade w an ano k a m panyinsem n a
w ankyerew n to ha no ye. D en ntia? Okwan b i so
nso enye. D en ntia?
B . TETEFO N O N N U AN HO ASEM

K a n te te no n a nnuan ben na ehafo di? Eno de egyin a

aman b i ne asase ko a wate so no so senea ete nne y i no ara.
K w aem u fo nam titiriw ne hanam . W ade bem m a ne
agyan a bare w a ano na ekunkum m m oa no. Se w aye no
ne se, wade bare bi a ano y e den k e k a agyan no ano n a
wade to to w wan, na bare no an o den nti, se ag ya n no
kawa ab o a no n a anka a k yiri k o ra a m po a, etum i kum no.
Saa bere y i nso n a mm oa n y e na, en ti wamm re n a wan
nsa k a w a n : esono, ekoa ne m m oa akese no nyinaa, saa
kwan y i so a ra n a w afa kum wan.
Saa m m ere no nso na w aye m fu w de dua asaseduan ne
ade k a k ra de, nanso wodi h a b a yere ne nnuaba, se ebia,
asaa, adesaa, borafere, abantare, ne ade, efise tete m m ere
no mu no, na nnuaba n ye na koraa. A de foforo bi a te te
no wodi no pii ne kube: w atoto y iy i ho ade betebete no
de fra k y e k y ire de y e aduan b i di.
T ete no nso n a nneema y e fow . A burow kotoku b iak o
a ebeye n k a rib o aduawatwe, wade g y e fi mman dunum
14 7

1 :

kosi aduonu anum , ebeye tro anaa ta k u fa w a yen im e y i

sik a m u. Akokabere a w a n y in y iy e wade n o g y e m m an
anum , akokanini nso, m m an anan, akoka a aye ha-ne-ho
nso m m an abien ne taapo. E siane se nneem a bo n y e den
n ti, waba obi p aa nso a , w o n tu a no ahe. W o tu a apaani
b e y s m m an abien kosi m m an anum d a koro. Odwum fo
a n a a abantoni nso n y a fi atram atiri b iako kapem abiesa
asram. Osraani nso n y a atram atiri abien ne fa asram.
S a a sik a y i nneema n a w ade tu a , enye ntram a. ne se se
obi de ne yanko k a an aa aba no p aa a, o n y a h u sik a ko
a ese se o tu a a, ano nso tu m i de biribi a ewa bo se ebia,
ad u an anaa n tam a an aa ade b i a eho wo m faso si anan mu
tu a no ka. N ne y i se m o m u b i y e asraani see an aa odi
dw um a b i a ese se w o tu a n o asranka an aa asranne a,
arem pe se wade dade sin b i b e tu a no ka, nanso k an tete
no, w ade saa ade 3d tu a nsraafo k a m a w ogye. W ogye
no saa a, wotum i katan g y e b e y e atiri 6 a n a wade kasesa
nneem a a ne bo b e ye a tiri 6 y i. D tram atiri biako b e ys
siren 4 an aa 5. A d w u m fo n e abantofo nso, w an asranne
ara n e ntam a asin abien, eno nso w otum i katan gye
atram atiri biako ne tra an aa takufa. W aka saa nsem
y i nne y i a, eye yen nw onw a, nanso kanfo no de, eye wan
bere so ade, enti na enhaw w an koraa.
Nsemmisa
1. N tra m a m m iako m m iako ahe na eye m m an anan?
2. K a n tete no se odw um fo b i n y a n asranne a ebeye siren
8 ne ta k u fa no a, nkoka ahe see na obetum i de ata?
3. S e w otu a apaani b i m m an anum da koro, na watan
aburow kotoku b iak o a eye nkaribo 80 m m an 20 a,
ende aburow nkaribo ahe n a ne da koro a k a tu a betum i
ata?
148

4. K a n tete no n a n tam a y e fow anaa woto no abooden?

5. N n e y i wade akoko b iak o g y e ahe?
6. Opaani a kan tete no w o tu a no mman anum da koro
ne nea nne y i w otu a no siren ne takufa, hena na ne de
ye? D en ntia?
7. D en nti na nne y i de, w u ram mmoa nnooso se kan no?
8. D en nti n a nne y i de, yen n i nnuaba pii se kan no?
9. M m oa ben nam na nnansa 3d de, yedi?

C . TETEFO N O MPATAAYI

T ete mmere no m u no, n a atare ne m m aka m u titiriw

na nsuanofo y i nam. Y e re b e k a tetefo no kw an bi a wofa
so 3d nam na nne y i ara nnipa bi da so k u ra m u wo nsu
ano am an b i so ho asem. S e woko Firaw ho a, wubehu se
nsunoa ha nsase no b i koran, baabi nso de, eda fam koraa,
na abon akese ne n k etew a pii wa asu no afanu nyinaa.
Nea asase no koran ha de, ek ye ansa na nsu k a ta a taa abon
no mu.
F ira w yiri afe biara, n a e yiri saa a, abon akese ne nke
tew a a ewowa asu no ho n y in a a y e am aam a da m pataa.
Esiane se saa here y i de, m p a ta a pe nsu a etaa ha dinn nti,
atare y i m u n a w atra to w nkesua.
Se nsu no tw e a, na ebi d a so taataa abon 3d m u ara, na
ewa ha saa ara kosi asram b eye abiesa anaa anan. Saa
mmere y i nyinaa n a m p a ta a mma no ren3dn, enti saa
bere y i titiriw na w oyi m p ataa. Edu saa bere 3d a, nnipa
a abon y i deda won nsase m u no siesie won ho k o yi nam .
Eye saa a, obi ne ne fifo a n a a abusua mu tu katra asu no ho
beye nnaw atw e abien d i sa a dwum a yi.
Se woko ha saa a, w a k y e k y e wan ho mu y e nnwum a
149

h o r o w p ii.

E b in o m k o t w it w a n n u a n e b e re w , e b in o m b o

a sese , e b in o m
b th o w

nam

n w e n e a d w o k u , e b in o m

n o , n a e b in o m

s is i m u k a a

w ade

k o n su n o m u k o tw itw a m u

sa re n e n n u a n y in a a n a a n n y ig y e w o n .

Afei se ebeye na mpataa no rensan nko nsu no mu bio

nti, woye biribi a ete se berapae de kosiw won kwan.
Saa berapae yi, wohye da gyaw akwan nketenkete bi wo
asease wo nsu no mu, na afei wode adwoku anaa nsowa no
akotuatua ano.
Ssnea adwoku no te no, woadwom ano no kakra, enti
mpataa no ko mu a, wontumi mfi bio. Woma etra nsu
no mu ara beye nnanu anaa nnansa, ansa na woakoyi
ahwiehwie. mpataa no agu nkyerenkye mu de ako ofie.
Wowie mpataa no yi wo otare no fa baabi a, na woakodow
fa baabi ayi mpataa no saa ara, wode no saa ara kosi se
wobewie otare no mu mpataa nyinaa yi. Wogu so saa
no, na mmea nso gu so rehow nam no akoton.
Tetefo no kwan foforo bi a wofa so yi nam nso ni: Wode
nnuru bi frafra kokonte, na wode nsu ahono atow agu
nsu no mu. Mpataa no di saa ade yi a, na abow won nsa
ama won were afi won ho, enti afei wofi ba nsu no ani
manyamanya ma wode nsa mpo kyere won. Nne yi ara
mmofra da so ye saa ade yi wo nsu ano nkurow bi so.
Nsemmisa
1. Den na ema asu bi yiri?
2. Den nti na mpataa fi asu kese bi mu ko eho atare no
mu?
3. Woyi mpataa den nne yi?
4. Se wuyi mpataa a, anka akwan horow abien a yeakyere
yi mu nea ewo he na wobepe?
150

D . TETEFO N O AD U RAD E N E W O N AD AN

Kan tete no na ntama ben na yen nananom fura?

Ampa kan tete no na ntama ho ye na yiye, mmofra pii
deda adagya, na wuhu se abofra bi fura ntama mpo a, na
eye sin bi a ode asi n'asen. Nnipa a wan nsam wo biribi
no nko na efura kente, na wuhu se obi fura ntama foforo
bi a, na eye kyenkyen. Saa ade yi ye dua bi ho abon
a woaboro. Se woye no ne se: wokawaawae dua no ho
abon atenten a ne trew beye onammon biako na wade
abegu nsu mu ama eho adwo, na afei waayiyi no mmiako
mmiako de asabaa a eho apowapow aboro. Yeaka dedaw
se, abon yi biara trew beye onammon biako, nanso wobeboro bewie na aye anammon abiesa, na wowie boro a, ete
se ntama bi a eso wurikyeree. Nne 3d ara abommofo bi
da so fura saa kyenkyen yi.
Afei adan ben mu na tetefo no trae? Yen nananom
tetefo no adan nye adan pa bi: nnuadan anaa fadan a
wode sare akuru so, munnim a, ete se nne yi abosonnan a
muhu nkurow bi so no. Mfensere nni ho, ano kwan ye
biako pe, na asrene na esen ano, opon anaa mpa biara nsi
mu, na ade bi a wofre no asafoakwa na woda so. Wonni
adaka, ntekrekyi mu na wode won ntama ne nhene ne
ade gu.
Nsuanofo nso de sare atenten bi na esi adan, ene se,
wonwene no se berapae hyehye de sisi ho, na wode
sare no bi ara akuru so. Nne 3d ara woko mpoano a,
wubehu se apofofo bi tete saa adan yi bi mu. Kwae mu
nso eto da bi a, wopaapae odwuma de sisi adan de sare
kuru so.
Y e n n im
h ere no.

sen ea

adan

n y in a a

te

wo

m m eaem m eae

saa

E b ia n a e n y e n e n y in a a n a e te sen ea y e a k a h o

a s e m 3d, n e a y e n i m

a ra n e se, te te fo n o a d a n n y e a d a n p a

I i

bi. Ahemfo mpo adan ye nketenkete na hwee nni mu.

Ebia nea enti a nnipa no ammo adan pa ho mmoden ne se,
na wontaa ntra adan mu: nnyedua ase ne mprama so na
wotaa tra.
N s e m m is a

1. So wope se wufura kyenkyen? Den ntia?

2. Den nti na kyenkyen bo nye den se kente?
3. Den nti na nne yi de obiara mfura kyenkyen? Ntama
ben na nne yi de aba so?
4 . So wo fi adan ye sen nea yeaka ho asem wo ha no?
Wo fi adan ho nneema ben na eye sen tetefo no de no?
5. Den nti na kan no womfa ntayaa nsi adan?
6. Den nti na kan no womfa kankyee mmo adan so?
7. Den nti na kan no womfa semente nsi dan?
8. Dkwan bi so no fadan a wode sare akuru so ye sen semente dan a wode nkankyee abo so. Den ntia?
g. Okwan bi so nso semente dan a wade nkankyee abo so
ye sen fadan ne sare. Den ntia?
E.

N N W U M A H O R O W A TETEFO N O YEE

Se yetraa ase tete mmere no mu a, anka mugye di se

yen asetra beye
Nea edi kan yebehwe nnwuma
horow a yen nananom tetefo no ye de hwee won ho.
Kan tete no na anka nnwuma titiriw a nnipa ye ne
kuadwuma, sikadwini, atono, anwene, mpataayi, nkyeneye
asikayo ne ntamanwene.
Adwuma biako bi a mpoanofo no nyaa mu ade ne
nkyeneye. Munim senea nkyene nni aduan bi mu a, eye
yoo. Kan tete no na nkyene a yen nananom di no nte se
nne yi de no: won de no de, wonya fi po mu. Se woye no
dEn?

15 2

ne se: wokosaw po nsu no benoa na nsu no yow a, aka

nkyene no wo ase. Nanso saa adwuma yi ho wo obre
pii, bio nso esee ogya, enti wohwehwee okwan foforo a
wode beye nkyene. Portugifo bae no, wode nkankyee
akese bi bae a wotwetwe mmaka mu nsu gu mu na wode
asi owia mu akosi se nsu no beyow ama aka nkyene no wo
ase.
Esiane se nkyene ho hia kwaemufo no nti, mpoanofo a
egyee saa adwuma yi taree won aniwam no nyaa mu ade.
Enti se enye akokoakoko a edooso saa bere no a, anka
mpoanofo no ne yen asase yi so asikafo.
Sika kokoo ne mfuturu a yehu bi nne yi nso mugye di
se eyee den na tetefo no nyae? Wotu bi wo fam, ebi nso
woko asu ho kohoro, eto da bi na osu to tew nso a, wonya
mfuturu yi bi mpoano ne mmonten so mpo.
Okwan a wonam so horo sika ne se: wode dote a sika
no worn no gu ayowa bi mu na wode nsu agu so awosow
ara akosi se nsu no befono na afei woahwie agu. Wohoro
no saa ara kosi se ebeka nhwea ne mmosea wo ase. no
mu na afei woto won bo ase tase sika mfuturu no.
Ebia wubebisa se: eden na mfuturu no mfra nsu a
wohwie gu no mu? Nea ema eba saa ne se wiase nneema
a eye dura koraa no mu biako ne sika kokooeye dura
mpo kyen oboanaa dade anaadwete anaakobere, entiworewosow ayowa no ne mu nsu no, sika no kotaa ase mmom.
Yeabobo nnwuma horow a tetefo no yee no mu pii din,
nanso monkae se nnwuma titiriw a nnipa pii taa ye saa
bere no ne ahayo ne kuadwuma, na eto da bi nso a, woko
sa.
Nanso enye adwumaye nko ne asetra. Ohome bere
nso wo ha. Mugye di se kan tete no, se nnipa nya adagyew a, woye den? Se wonye biribi titiriw bi a, woye
nneema a nneemmafo ye yi bi ara. Saa mmere no na
153

nnipa ani ku amanne ne afahye horow no ho yiye. Asaredan anaa asuae biara nni ha, enti okwan a wanam so yen
nunofra ne : edu anopa a, mmarimaa no ne wan agyanom ka afum kosua ahaya, afum adwumaye ne ako.
Edu anadwofa nso a, watratra wan nananom nky&n tie
atetesem ne mms ne anansesem.
Nsstnmisa
Den
So
3. So wunim ade foforo bi a yedi a emfi mmoa anaa afifide
mu?
4. Oman mu dwo a, na won a kan no woton nkyene no
nya mu ade. Den ntia?
5. Nkyene a yedi nne yi ne sika kakaa a muhu no, ways
den na wonya?
6. So nne yi wonam a, wutumi nya sika kakaa wa fam se
kan no?
7. Bere ben na etumi ba se obi tu sika mfuturu ahu?
8. Sika kakaa ho mfaso ne den?
9. Den nti na kan no nnipa pe kuadwuma ne ahaya pii no?
10. Abibifo amanne ne afahys ben na wunim?
11. Hefo na wan nananom ato anansesem akyere wan
pen?
12. Hefo nso na waatra wan nananom nkyen anadwofa bi
atie mpanyinsem?
se

1.

n ti n a te te m m ere n o m u n o n k y e n e y E yE a d w u m a

titir iw ?

2.

eye

se

y e d e n k y en e to y e n a d u a n m u ?

F.

AKW AN N E AGUADI

Kan tete no na nnipa nnaaso asase yi so, na nkurow nso

susuae koraa. Kwae nso daaso, na nkurow bi wa ha a
154

kw ae a k a ta so koraa. Esiane s e worarao nkurow ho

mpopare n ti, k w ae no k a ta nkurow no so munumm koraa
ma ntontom , a ten ne m m oaam m oaa h aw nkurafo. E n ti
se wope se w u n ya m fram a pa a n aa w u gyin a ha to w ani
hwe a k y irik y iri b aab i a, wobrE ho.
A kw an p a nso nni ha, enti nso n n ip a mpe akw antu
koraa. A k w a n a sdeda nkurow n tam y e nammonkoro
kw an a afu fu w , enti obi nko n tum i m fa so gye se o n ya
nnipa bi k a ne h o ; m oreka y i nso n a obiara kura peaw anaa
nkrante an aa agyan . W orebeka a, n a w oakrakra abusuafo a k y e re n ea woreko, na biribi y e w o okwan mu anaa
woansan arom a bio a, woahu nea woreko akope w ak yi
kwan. W oreko n o nso, wonam no n y in a a na wo ho ye
wo k y e w k y e w : wusuro s e ebia okw anm ukafo anaa aboa
bone b i reb etow a h y s wo so. E n ti g ye woakodu nea
woreko no an sa na w o bo to wo yam .
Saa akw am fuw ii y i so ara na nnipa fa kodi gua, enti saa
bere no, nnipa m pe aguadi koraa, n a n e a wotum i y e ara ne
se wode nnuan n e ad e ko gua b i a eben so koton. Enti
se obi bo m m oden de nkyene an aa dade hwirow mu ba
kwae m u h a a, oton no abooden, n a se wosoma obi akyiri
kyiri baabi nso a, w otu a no sik a a eko anim.
E n ti saa bere no na nnipa te sum m u : wonnim hwee, na
wonnim nea eko so nkurow anaa am an a a tw a won ho ahyia
no so, nnipa a Ete amannone nsase so, s e ebia A burokyiri
see nso wone won nni ayonkofa biara. A h yen a enenam
po so saa bere no nso m fram a pia no a, na eko, enti ahyen
fi A b u rokyiri reba S ik a Mpoano h a a, edi beye asram
abien wo kw an so. to da bi nso a, na ahum abo no
okwan so.
Nne y i nso de, nneem a nyinaa asakra. W oapaapae
akw an a fa b aab iara m a mfiri de n n ip a ne nneema ko
mmeaemmeae daa. Y ew o oketeke akw an abiesa nso.
t w i -a k 6 . 6

155

A h ye n a efi N kran a n a a T akorade ko A b u ro k yiri no nso

nnaw otw e abien p e n a edi w o okwan so, n a ahun m u hyen
a a b a so nne y i n o p o de, d a koro n a ede du A burokyiri.
E g u a a yene yen h o y e n ho anaa amannone nsase di no
nso a k a anim koraa, n a am a yene am an a a k a no an ya
ayonkofa. Enye e y i nko, w oahyehye kristofo asafo ne
asuae pii ase m m eaem m eae, na afe b iara w a y s b i k a ho.

Nsemmisa
1. D en nti n a ehia se wobo nkurow ho m popare?
2. N ea ewa he n a w ope, kurow kese m u tr a an aa akuraa
ase? D en ntia?
3. D en nti n a asafo R ein d orf abakasem nhom a no m u aba
nteaseenam din n a n n e y i mfiri a ab a so y i d e ammo
din?
4. K a n tete no n a d en m u n a wade nsu gu?
5. N k ek ab o a ben n a w u gy e d i se kan te te no wahaw
nnipa?
6. A pankakw an bebrebe a nne y i w apaapae n o ho m faso
ne den?
7. M fram ahyen a k a n no wade fa po so no nni ha nne y i
bio. A h yen ben n a afei efi A b urokyiri b a ha?
8. N sakrae ben n a yen e A borafo aguadi de a b a ye n asetra
m u?
9. So nneem a bi wo te te fo no asetra m u a e ye k yen yen
nne y i de?
10. Osafo R eindorf k a e se m m ere a ode tra a ase no y e
k y en mmere a atw a m an aa ebeba. So w opene so?
11. S o yen nne y i a setra y e sen tetefo no de?
12. D en n a ese se y e y e n a ye n asetra ako so a y e y ie ara?
156

3 5

ABOROFO AKWANTUFO KYIN A WOBEKYINKYIN ABIBIRIM NO HO MFASO

A
Y ea k an akw an tu fo akeseakese pii ho nssm, yeate
am ane ahorow a w ohui, asiane a esianee won, won akwantu no mu ah yiak w a ne ow u a ebinom wuwui. N a yebisa
se: woyee eyinom n y in a a de pee den? W ode buee akwan
wo Abibirim ha, de hw ehw ee nneema a obiara nhui da, na
woahu yen asase y i ho nneem a a eso a k a ta a w onnya nhui
no. Nsem a y e k a y i ase ne den?
A t are akeseakese pii wo Abibirim asasepon y i mfuiimfini a nkuraa ne nku row pii wowo ho ansa na Aborofo
akw antufo reba A b ib irim ha, nea akw antufo y i fae ho nso
na A rabia nkoatofo pii akofa ho dedaw. E n ti se y e k a se
Aborofo akw antufo y i behwehwee nneema a obi nhui d a a,
na yedc k yere den?
N ea edi k a n : w om aa wiase aman hui senea A frik a te
am pam pa. W ode won akw an tu horow y i m u nsem yee
nhom a m aa nnipa to to kanee. N ea e tia abien n e se:
won na ekyeree ayo n k o fa a ededa A bibirim am an ne nsase
horow no ntam . A n s a n a okwantufo S tan ley reba A b i
birim ha no, n a n n ip a p ii nim nea asubonten K o n go bo
pom ho dedaw, a k y iria k y iri y i nso L ivingstone behuu asu
bi a ede L ualaba. N anso obiara anhu se L u alab a y i ara
ne asubonten K o n g o kosii se Stanley bek yin k yin A bibirim
h a hwehwee m u sii no gyinae. Ugandafo nso nim otare
kese a ede V ik to ria N y a n za, nim nso se asu kese bi ti nen,
nanso wonnim fa a k o a a su no sen ko; M israimfo nso nim

157

won asubonten N il, nso wonnim n ea efi kosii s e okwantufo

Speke behwehwee asu kese y i ti.
N ea etia abiesa ne se: akw antufo y i behw ehw ee faako a
Abibirim mmepow atenten ne nsubonten ne atare akeseakese no dedae, hw ehw ee A bibirim asasepon y i dabea wo
asase ani ne anam m on dodow a a ta re akese, se ebia,
Nyanza, T a n g an y ik a ne ebinom a ekeka h o dabea de koron
sen epo. E yinom n y in a a boa m a w otum i yee Abibirim
asase y i mfonini a ekyerekyere b irib iara m u y iye , na afei
de wohwe A bibirim asase mfonini so a, w an ye esono ne
agyata wo mfinimfini ho senea an k a w o y e no.
W omaa am an n y in a a hui se A b ib irim y e asasepon a
mmepow ne abon ne nsase a eye fe n e fagu d e ahorow a
eho wo m faso pii w o so.
N a afei hann a ak w a n tu fo y i de b a a A b ib irim y i den na
efi mu bae? N k o a to a an ka A ra b iafo de guan A bibifo
ho no enne y i agu, woapaapae ak w a n p a a y e y e keteke
akwan wo m m eaem m eae, enti nnipa asom adw o won na
woasua aguadi pa. Donkoe a a n k a em m a asase y i so
nnwo na ede otan b a oman ne oman n ta m no, nne yi de
woagu korakora. W odc nnuan ne n n u ab a ahorow a anka
ebi nni yen asase y i so fi amannone nsase so ab a ha, na
ehafo reko anim k u ad w u m aye mu. K a n te te a Aborofo
akw antufo no b a h a no, wokyere se b a a b i de wobeko, na
nnuan titiriw bi nni ho, na okom rekunkum nkurofo.
Nanso nne y i de, ekam e a ye se A b ib irim h a baabiara,
nnipa n ya aduan di daa. W ade n tam a, akan ea, mfiri, ne
aguade ahorow a eho wo yen m faso a b a A bibirim . A duyefo nso rehw ehw e A b ib irim h a n y a re w a ahorow no ano
aduru n a n k a k ra n k a k ra n yarew a a ehaw yen no mu
fa kese no ara ano rebre ase na ayaresab ea a woasisi
no mmeaem meae ne onipa ahooden ne n ahohweso ho
m m ara horow a w okyere yen nso bebue yen ani am a
158

yeasore yen ho daa. nye eyi nko, woayeye sukuu,

ahyehye k risto fo asafo ase A bibirim m m aa nyinaa.

Nanso enye nea anibuei yi de reba n yin aa n a eye, nsakrae kese b iara a w oye no n a asiane bi nso b a ta ho, ebi
ne nsisi, n sak rae y i y e m u m fom so a y e y e, osee a yesee
nneema p a b i a ewo ha fi tete n a esiane se eye yen nenanom am anne n ti, y e b u se enye, nneem a horow a Aborofo
de bre yen a en ye m m a yen eyinom n yinaa y e yen ade
foforo na a m a y e n ani so a y e yen y a a .
Y e n a n sak rae horow y i reba yen bere so yi wo dwum a
titiriw b i d i: ense se y e tra ho kom m de yen ani hwe biribiara kw a, ese se yeso nneem a pa a y e re n y a no m u boa m a
eko so na asiane a ebata ho no nso y e y i fi ho. E y i m u
nso ese se nim dee ne osuahu a y e n y a no sukuu m u no
kyere yen nea ese se y e y e daa.

Nsemmisa
1. D en nti n a A borofo akw antufo biri won m ogya ani tu
akw an a akw anside ne asiane ahorow pii worn?
2. Mfaso horow ahe n a y e n y a fi nneem a horow a akw an
tufo y i b ehui y i mu?
3. E m u nea ewo he na esom bo koraa?
4. N neem a p a b en n a Stanley, L ivin gsto n e ne Speke nom
akw an tu horow no y e m aa A frika?
5. Asiane ben nso na ebata saa nneem a p a y i ho?
6. Y en nneem m afo 3d asede ne den? So nimdee ne
osuahu a y e n y a no sukuu mu no ho beba yen mfaso wo
eyi m u ana?
159

TWI DWOM 36
1

O nyankopon, w o din y e nwonwa

Obi nse w o anuonyam da.
Y e n a y e y i nnu koraa.
W oso kese, w anim y e nyam se;
W o ah ye ahran, wo ho hyeren se;
W ufura hann se wo ntam a.
W ode w o tu m i a y e soro,
Owia, sram ne nsoromma no,
W ahengua tim osorosoro;
A dasam m a ani nnu ha.

5
Osu no n ti nw ura fifi
N a aduan fifi asasem
N a nnua pa resow n aba.
N n ipa didi d a N yam e ase,
W am a won fie m m oa n ya bi,
N kae no m ee mmoadoma.
N a ahaban m u ntakraboa
T ete nnua a b a a no so
D e nne horow ne wan dw onto no
Y i N yan kop an a y e wa so.

6
po kese no, hyen nenam so,
so na etrew hahraa se,
N 'aso rakye bobom y e hu.
160

ho n a m m oa m anyam anya
N e bonsu a eso kokuroo no
N enam ee na wogoru worn.
A w urade, w o ho y s nwonwa,
N a w o nkutoo hwe won n yin aa;
W on aduan li w 'ayam ye m u;
W ubue w o nsam, woma womee.

7
W on n y in a a nkw a fi wo m u;
W u y i w o dom ani, w ogyaa mu,
W osan ko won mfutum am,
N a wosom a w ahome ba a,
W iasefo regye won nkwa;
K esee ani y e foforo.
W anuonyam tra ho m a ekye
N a w ani gye wo nnwumam,
N a se wo bo refuw obi a,
Oso se den a, oregyam.

8
M ete ase y i, m eto wo dwom
N a m ewo ho y i, m ehyira wo,
M sbo w o din m akam fo wo.
A d asam m a munnnyae ne din bo
N a m om m eka me ho ne dwonto,
O pum puni se nidi pii.
N neboneyefo besa koraa;
N a atreneefo som Awurade
N a won ani gye no mu daa.

161

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The Editor is indebted to the following for their help in the
production of the book:
For much of the translation and for revising and correcting
the Twi: Mr, C. A. Akrofi, M.B.E.
For translating stories: Mr. E.
. Koranteng, Mr. M. T.
Ntikora, Mr. S. K . Yebo, and the late Mr. John Keteku.
For assistance in editing: the late Mr. D. Benzies, Mrs. D. M.
Lawson, Mrs. E . L. Rapp, and Mr. C. M. Morrison.
For assistance with the Notes on the sections: Mr. G. O.
Reynolds.

For permission to use copyright material the Editor is indebted

to the following:
The Basel Mission for Twi Hymn 36, for Adesua ye ma mmofra from Twi Kenkan Nhoma, II, for Abofra Kokodurufo bi
from Twi Kenkan Nhoma, III, for A be ne nabusuafo ho asem
from Twi Kenkan Nhoma, IV, and for the illustrations on
pages 61 and 63, which are based on those in Saat und Ernie der
Bader M ission a u f der Goldkuste, 1895; the Sheldon Press for
the illustration on page 3 and for a translation of "C a t and
Leopard" and " A Conference of Mans Enemies" from Talking
Woman, b y J. K . Mackenzie, in the "L ittle Books for A frica"
series, and the Editor of Listen, in which those stories first
appeared, and to the Methodist Book Depot who publish a
complete translation into Twi of Talking Woman; Mr. I. E.
Boama and the Editor of Listen for the story " Abosonsom Y e
Nnaadaa."

163

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NOTES FOR THE TEACHER

The A im of this Book
A good reading lesson widens the childs horizon and enriches heart and mind.
This book helps to make such lessons possible. It is designed to train the children
to read with understanding and pleasure, and to think about what they read.
The material, which is varied and interesting, has been carefully chosen to form a
balanced mental diet. While most of it is adapted to Primary Class 6 children
of average ability, a few easy lessons are included to encourage the backward
children, and some advanced material to stretch the c le w ones.
The Plan of this Book
The material is divided into sections, each of which provides a class or group
reading lesson, and there are enough sections for two such lessons per week for the
school year. Note that a section is not the same as a chapter: many chapters
contain two or more sections. Many of the sections are followed by questions to
stimulate discussion. The teacher may sometimes have to split these up into
simpler questions, and in other ways help the children to find adequate answers.
Supplementary Silent Reading
The children should have individual silent reading at least once a week; the
clever ones might have it more often. The prescribed supplementary readers
should be used for this purpose, and also, as formerly, booklets prepared by the
teacher. There are now enough Twi books available to form quite a good class
library. Some children can r a d many books a year, and the school should give
them the chance to do so.

Reading Aloud
This should be practised as an art, and one requiring real skill and intelligence.
Only too easily it can degenerate into a senseless cataloguing of mnmbted words.
Three things ore necessary: (a) the child must understand the passage; (0) he
must have good control of his speech organs; (e) he must r a d phrases and not
separate words. The first of these may be seemed by silent reading preceding
oral. For the second, daily speech training exercises should be given to cure
common faults such as: bad breathing, back voice, tight throat, rigid jaw, clumsy
tongue, flabby lips, and choked nasal cavities. The teacher should note the
sounds which his children pronounce badly, seek the cause, and apply the remedy.
If the "Sentence Method" has not been used at all in the Infant Department
the teacher may find considerable difficulty in training the children to read whole
phrases and not one word at a time. It can be done, however. The children most
form the habit of letting their eye ran ahead of their voice, so that they have read
the last word of the phrase before their mouth is speaking the first The use of
flash cards and similar devices will hdp, as will also speed tests in silent reading
for comprehension. It is sometimes useful to make the children mark the pauses
in a passage that is to be read aloud: the reader can then scan a danse, look up,
and say it from memory. This method is specially suitable for dialogue passages,
and leads to more natural speech.

165

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In oral reading competitions between groups of children emphasis should be

laid on expression. In silent reading there should be no muttering. Persistent
mutterers should practise reading with a pencil held between the lips.
Appreciation and Intelligence Work
This'is a most important part of the lesson. Usually it takes the form of a
discussion stimulated and guided by the teacher's questions. He should aim at
bringing out the heart of the passage. If it is an informational one, he should
help the children to understand the main points better, and connect up the new
knowledge with their own life and experience; if it is a story, he should lead them
to picture the scene in their minds, to enter into the thoughts and emotions of
the characters, to live the story in imagination. He shpuld make full use of the
pictures in the book, remembering that children need to be educated to look at
pictures; otherwise they will see little in them, and dismiss them with a casual
glance. Other pictures illustrating things mentioned should be put up on the
classroom walls or drawn on the blackboard. When real objects can be shown
to the children, that is better still.
Expression Work
This may be given at the end of a lesson of any type. It will vary according
to the nature of the section; after reading a song, learn to sing it; after reading a
play, act it. Many stories also may be dramatised. Here is a good procedure for
doing so:
1. Treat it as an ordinary reading lesson, but where direct speech is given,
let different children take the part of different characters and another child be
the narrator.
2. By class discussion divide it into scenes, and consider the characters and
properties required and the main points to be observed in the acting.
3. Have the story read aloud once again slowly, but this time let a set of
children act it in dumb show, keeping time with the narration.
4. Let these children act it speaking.
5. Let another set of children act it, and the audience judge which was the
better performance.
Drawing and handwork arising out of the stories are usually best taken in the
periods for these subjects.

Types of Reading Lesson1

Type A
1. Speech training.
2. The children read a paragraph or group of paragraphs silently.
3. The teacher asks a few questions to test comprehension, and gives neces
sary explanations of difficult words and the like.
4. One child reads it aloud to the class (not to the teacher). The remaining
paragraphs are treated in the same way.
5. Appreciation and intelligence work on the whole lesson.
Type B
1. Speech training.
2. The teacher reads a paragraph or group of paragraphs.
3. Discussion of the passage read.
4. A child reads the same passage, or two or three read it, each taking a part.
5. The other paragraphs are treated in the same way.

l66

Ti-ptC
1. The teacher reads the whole section to the class, the children keeping their
books shut.
2. Discussion of the story.
3. The children read a selected paragraph quickly and silently.
4. This paragraph is then read aloud by one child in each row, the others and
the teacher judging the best. Other selected paragraphs are treated in the
sane way, and the lesson thus becomes a team competition in oral reading.
Type D
1. Speech trainiog.
2. Difficult oew words and their meanings are written an the blackboard by the
teacher.

3. Children read a paragraph or group of paragraphs silently.

4. The teacher asks questions or gives a "slip of paper* test.

5. The passage is read aloud by one or more children.
6. After the whole section has been read, further appreciation work may be
done.
Type E
The same as Type D, except that the questions are written on the black*
board before the children read the passage.
Type F
1. The children read silently a paragraph or group of paragraphs and make
np three or four questions on it.
2. One child comes out and asks the class his questions and selects children
to answer. One or two other children may do the same in turn.
3. The passage may be read aloud by one or more children.
4. After the whole section has been read, further appreciation work may be
done.
By using these different methods you can prevent your reading lessons from
becoming monotonous, and, what is more, train your children to use their intelli
gence and imagination. In the following notes a lesson type is suggested for each
section, but it is often an advantage to combine two or more types in one lesson.
The procedure may also be varied in other ways; here are some additional sug
gestions for advanced classes:
Rhymes in Twi may be sung by children at the beginning of the lesson.
Children may be asked to pick out the new and difficult words themselves.
They may be led by class discussion to study synonyms, useful phrases, and the
like.
They may make a summary of the story.
They may write a few lines on the main characters, and the Teacher will later
read and mark these.
The children may prepare a lesson at home, and then in class make a list of what
they consider important questions on the passage; and finally, working in pairs,
ask each other these questions, the Teacher going round but intervening only
where necessary to prevent misunderstanding or the use of badly formed questions

I67

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NOTES ON THE SECTIONS

CHAP.

i . Type A. Dramatise.
s. Sections i and 2, Type A. Stress appreciation work.
3. Sections r and 2, Type C. Dramatic work as suggested in question 8 at end
of chapter.
4. Typo A or B.
5. Type F.
6. Type D. Where dialogue is given, make different children read the parts of
the various animals.
7. Section 1, Type A. Dramatise. Section 2, Type C. Section 3, Type C.
Dramatise. The teacher should make sure that the children realise the
story comes from the Bible. Make them find it in their Bibles.
8. Section i, Type D. Section 2, Type B.
9. Type F.
10. Sections z and 2, Type A. Dramatise.
11. Type F.
12. Sections 1 and 2, Type C. Dramatise.
13. Type D.
14. Sections 1 and 2, Type F.
13. All sections Type A. The children might be asked if they know of any recent
developments in the N.Ts. and the teacher mention some to bring the
picture up to date.
rf>. Sections 1 and 2, Type B. Dramatise.
17. Sections 1 and 2, Type A. Something might be said about the work of the
Basel Missionaries in the particular locality. A written composition might
be based on this chapter, in view of the importance of the subject
18. Sections 1 and 2, Type F.
19. Sectioo 1, Type D. Section 2, Type E.
sol Section 1, Type A. Section 2, Type C. Sections 3 and 4, Type A. It is
worth emphasising the opposition and ridicule which Ross met in the early
period of his work. Explain the very small size of the malarial parasites
and the nature of the microscope used to see them.
21. Type D.
22. All sections Type A. Nyanza means lake. Children should be referred to
the map on p. 128. In these sections on exploration, try to make the chil
dren realise something of the vastness 0! the distances covered. Lake
Victoria is larger than either the whole of the Gold Coast Colony or
Ashanti. Lake Tanganyika would reach from Accra to Bawku in the
N.Ts. Help the children to feel too the epic nature of these journeys and
the magnitude of the difficulties and hazards.
23. Section r, Type C. Section 2, Typo A or C.
24. All sections. Types A and D alternately. Some reading in parts might be
done, as in note on Ch. 6 above.
23. Type C. Memorise. There are somo difficult words needing explanation.
Help the children to feel the grandeur of the Psalm.
169

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CHAP.

26. Type A.
27. All sections, Typo A. See notes on Ch. 22 above. Speke bad been sure when
he discovered Lake Victoria that it was the source of the Nile, but he did
not in fact find the place where it flowed out and follow its course until his
second visit, as described here. Baker heard that there was another great
lake connected with the source of tlio Nile, and searched for it.
28. Section i, Type A or C. Section 2, Type A.
29. Sections 1 and 2, Type A.
30. Section i, Type B. Section 2, Type A. Section 3, Type B.
31. Sections 1 and 2, Type A. Section 3, Type C. Section 4, Type A. Section 5,
Type D. Sec notes on Ch. 22 above. Stanley made this journey after
the journeys of Speke, Burton, and Baker. Boma on the map is the same
os Embomma in the text. By questions, the teacher should try to
bring out the various sides of Stanleys character: his courage, determina
tion, resource, loyalty, eloquence, delight in nature.
32. Type D.
33. Sections 1 and 2, Type A. If there is a printing press in the town, children
might visit it, or be shown pieces of type from i t
34. Use Types A and C alternatively in these sections.
35. Type A. Refer to map where necessary.
36. Type C