Bate
Besong: Why the Caged Bird Sings
By
Peter Vakunta, PhD
Bate Besong (alias B.B.) is a scholar, teacher,
poet, and playwright. B.B. is a man of action, and most importantly, a man of
courage. He is never afraid to name the unnamable, to cry foul when others keep
quiet; to blow the whistle on human foibles oblivious of whose ox is gored. BB
is called ‘Obasinjom warrior’ by friends and foes alike. He relishes the
thought of stirring the hornet’s nest; he takes delight in ruffling feathers.
Bate Belong, the maverick, is a man who communicates with fluidity; he is also
a man who can turn writing into an opaque nightmare by dint of outlandish
lexical choices. It is tempting to get bogged down in a maze of words that
qualify BB but confining this man of letters within a mold of words is an
exercise in futility. Bate Besong does not bequeath a perishable legacy to his
family, friends and fellow countrymen. He leaves behind indestructible stuff
for posterity. He bequeaths ideas too big to be buried; he passes on
revolutionary ideals that outlive the revolutionary.
Cameroon has produced a handful of literary
virtuosos but Bate Besong towers over them all on account of his audacity to
say the undecipherable, to pose intriguing questions, and to take the powers-that-be
to task for dereliction of duty. BATE BESONG: WHY THE CAGED BIRD SINGS is our
celebration of one man’s vendetta against a cancerous regime—the government of
President Paul Barthélemy Biya'a bi Mvondo of Cameroon. Bate Besong is an
acclaimed playwright of Anglophone extraction whose unsettling play BEASTS OF
NO NATION (1991) earned him a stint in the dungeons of la République du
Cameroun. The intent of BATE BESONG: WHY THE CAGED BIRD SINGS is to unravel the
interrelation between the signifier and signified in the poetry of Besong. The
study hinges on the marriage between form and content, the import of poetry to
Besong and the manner in which he uses his poetic verve as a political weapon.
The question of language choice is of critical
importance to a holistic understanding of BATE BESONG: WHY THE CAGED BIRD
SINGS. Besong takes advantage of poetic license to create his own words but his
neologisms are not gratuitous. New words enable him to appropriate the English
Language; he fashions out a brand of English which is at once universal and
indigenized enough to carry his peculiar worldview and imagination. But BB’s
English is still “in full communion with its ancestral roots though altered to
suit its new African surroundings,” to borrow words from Chinua Achebe (Morning
Yet, 61).
The following succinct analysis of one of his poetic
anthologies titled JUST ABOVE CAMEROON (1998) suggests that his poetry has
undergone substantial maturation dictated by events in the poet’s life. His
versification has evolved from youthful exuberance to the poised recollections
of a mature scribbler. Existential vicissitudes have given new directions to
the writing of a man deemed exceptionally difficult to comprehend by virtue of
his lexical choices. Besong writes what he wants; he writes the way he wants.
Most importantly, he writes with a target readership in focus. Besong tailors
language to match envisaged audiences. His quest for le mot juste, necessitated by intent, has resulted in the creation
of cameroonianisms. He strives to align the signifier and the signified for the
purpose of discursive effectiveness. A noteworthy trait of Besong’s poetics is
recourse to intertextuality or literary allusions. Besong is a voracious reader
who takes delight in exteriorizing what he has ingested; traces of his
gargantuan appetite are palpable in his fictionalization of lived experiences
as the following review of his poetic anthology, Just above Cameroon (1998) reveals.
In this anthology, Bate Besong takes a swipe at
political shenanigans. Like a gladiator, BB wields his literary sledge hammer
with the dexterity that he is noted for. Just
above Cameroon is a rap on abuse of power and political demagoguery as seen
in this excerpt: “Dry tongues rasp, loosely/ lately/they were charred (you must
not deny this)” (1). This verse captures the leadership hollowness that
characterizes the government of President Paul Biya of Cameroon. In the words of the poet himself, “We had
faded off the monolithic edge, into silence/chimerical, into unfurling
climacteric babel/of right-wing hue” (1).
It is important to pay close attention to Besong’s
diction. The poet chooses his lexical items very carefully in a bid to paint a
befitting picture of the political circus that the Republic of Cameroon has
become. Semantically laden words such as
“chimerical,”“climacteric,” “monolithic,” and “hue” serve the purpose of
underscoring the phantasmagorical make-believe of political double-speak in
Mimboland, a.k.a Cameroon. There is no better word to portray the angst and
frustration of Cameroonian mobs hell-bent on pursuing the Lion Man (Paul Biya)
to his ultimate demise than the word “hue”:
“Since that mob was respectable though you contrived to die …/ What holiness
had you, to break into my sacred fast?” (91)
It should be noted that Besong’s recourse to the
word “babel” goes a long way to pinpoint not just the double-edged nature of
political discourses in Cameroon but also the hotchpotch of the nation’s linguistic
landscape that is bedeviled by more thorns than roses. The poet’s verbal
brilliance and linguistic jugglery is noticeable in every verse. Yet a total
understanding of Just above Cameroon
calls for a reader who has been in touch with the changing socio-political
atmosphere in Cameroon as the poet’s regionalized diction, display of scenes,
and the occasional tossing about of historically significant expressions
indicate.
In “Facsimile of a Jackal,” Besong denounces
vehemently the insanity and imbecility of Cameroon’s ruling elite as these
verses seem to indicate: “ravening moronic specters/ Fugue-heads,
noddle-brained.”(1) The poet laments the
dire consequences of misgovernment by morons. The prevalence of macabre words
in this poem bears testimony to the decrepitude of the geographical expression
code-named Cameroon... Words like “cadaver,” “specters,” “putrescence” and
“mummified” conjure images of death that hang over the heads of Cameroonians
like the sword of Damocles.
The theme of political extravaganza is echoed in
“The party’s over”(2), a poem in which Besong laments the fate of Cameroon’s
wretch of the earth as the following
excerpt indicates: “Before their Party was over/ Long we have listened to the
howl of human misery/Thedying voices of that human world below”(2). Notice the
manner in which the poet puts emphasis on the dichotomy between the opulent and
the indigent in his homeland. The verse “that human world below” is an allusion
to the downtrodden of Cameroon. Besong’s use of the word “Party,” with capital
“P” should be understood to mean the wheeling and dealing of the thieving cabal
(Beti mafia) stationed in Yaoundé. It could also be construed as an allusion to
the ruling political party, the Cameroon People’s Democratic Party (CPDM).The
“Party” is a long metaphor that Besong sustains throughout the entire poem in a
bid portray the CPDM as the nation’s grave-digger as evidenced in the following
excerpt: “With oversized tons/ of money-power/plunderers of the fruits of our
apple trees/Looters of the minerals of our unwilling earth” (2).
There is no gainsaying the fact that this poet
nurses a nagging phobia for the ruling elite in Yaounde which he associates
with wanton pillaging of the nation’s natural resources: “ Before the Party was
over/ We have watched with awe our oil bonuses/ spreading/Along their cobbled
amphi-/Theaters”(2). Besong resorts to the word “theaters” as a double
entendre. A double entendre is a word or phrase open to two interpretations.
The word “theaters” refers both to the political theatrics prevalent in all
tiers of government in Cameroon as it is to the chambers in which political
shenanigans are concocted under the watchful eyes of Mr. Paul Biya.
It is of critical importance to note that Cameroon’s
erstwhile president, Ahmadou Ahidjo, is also demonized in “The Party’s Over” as
seen below : “But when I returned /The hour had come, friend/ for the Shah to
flee /and Leave his stooges behind...”(2) The beauty of this poem resides in
its historical fertility. Several eponyms are used by the poet to shed light on
significant historical events in Cameroon, not the least of which is the
unexpected departure of Ahidjo from power in 1982 and the handing of power over
to his lackey, Paul Biya: “Or the Shah to flee/and leave his stooges
behind...”(2)
In “Prison blues” Besong explicates why the caged
bird sings. The poem is the versification of the travails of the poet during
his incarceration in the wake of the staging of his play Beasts of no Nation (1990) as we read in “cyclones of my internment
embalm/voices of vespers (3). The poet uses his verses to satirize the
dehumanization of political prisoners in Cameroon: “In that human abattoir/
queues of two or three/ hundred esquadrons” (3). Prison life in Cameroon,
according to Besong, is analogous to terrestrial Hades. The zombification of Cameroon’s military is
evident in “cannibal militaire/they are the beau monde/of the octopan/jubilee”
(3). Besong’s recourse to foreign
language words calls for a comment. Foreign language words serve an
illocutionary purpose in poetry. Besong’s foreignization of English through the
use of words such as “esquadron” and “militaire”adds local color to his
fiction. Oftentimes, he uses foreign words as euphemisms. The word “militaire,”
for instance, is intended to be understood as a euphemism for the kakistocracy
(government of soldiers, by soldiers, and for soldiers) that the government of
President Paul Biya has become.
At the same time, the poet resorts to scatology to
paint an acrid picture of the nation’s correctional services which he describes
as follows: “animal dung, only/ such quisling functionaries/ in “New” Deal demonolatory”
(5). In literary jargon, "scatology" is a term used to denote the
literary trope of the grotesque. It is used to describe works that make
particular reference to excretion or excrement, as well as to toilet humor.
However, Besong’s recourse to scatology goes beyond mere humor. It is a
powerful tool that enables the poet to depict the moral and physical degeneration
prevalent in Cameroon. In “Their Champagne Party Will End,” the poet resorts to
outright vulgarity as seen in “It was during the golden epoch; there was talk
of Unity, Reconciliation, Relf-Reliance and all that shit”(22). It is indisputable that Besong could be just
as civil as he could be uncouth.
The rape of democracy and the reign of impunity in
Cameroon’s prisons are captured in “New Deal demonolatory.” In the same vein,
the poet lampoons the reign of terror that has become common currency in
Cameroon’s prisons: “Only from such deranged insomniacs/such precursors of the
hydraulics/ of terror, dyspeptic gouls” (5).
It should be noted that a ‘ghoul’ is a folkloric monster associated with
graveyards and consumption of human flesh. By extension, the word ‘ghoul’ is
used in a derogatory sense to refer to a person who delights in the macabre, or
whose profession is linked directly to death, such as a grave-digger. Besong’s
prison wardens are described as “gouls” because they have a predilection for
torture. The poet equates prison wardens to “Djinns,
lunatic-butchers/toe-breakers/ anthropophagi/iguanas whose porridge is human
gore” (6).It would appear these obnoxious civil servants are the poet’s
pet-peeve given that he portrays them as “scallywags in the employ of that
carousing/ évolué of another/kangaroo traoreian swagger” (6).
This loathsome manner of depicting penitentiary
workers in Cameroon is symptomatic of the ill-treatment to which the poet was
subjected during his days of incarceration. He describes himself as “a lonely
eagle chained behind bars” (6). Specific words in the poem are chosen to
describe the abusive comportment of Cameroon’s correctional officers. Some of
these words are “terror” (5), “golgothas” (5), “larcerations” (5)
“power-crazed” (5). It is noteworthy that the metaphor of a caged bird is
sustained throughout the entire poem for the express purpose of adumbrating the
powerlessness of the rank and file in Cameroon’s legal system as seen in “a
lonely eagle chained behind bars/in the alloy of caravan imbecility”(9).
Besong takes issue with the irrational behavior of
the Cameroonian Head of State who would rather invest in Baden-Baden than invest
at home: “From Baden-Baden, His beastship/a ghastly taffeta/ of his winsome
yammering” (6). The poet picks and chooses macabre images that underscore the
lifeless existence of his countrymen and women: “Iron-grills muffle sepulchral/
silhouettes in that barouche there…/How wills you rid them/of the character of
asphyxiation? (7) This poem is filled with ontological ironies. Besong resorts
to a spiteful lexicon that sheds ample light on the existential traumas and
dilemmas of Cameroonians. “Prison blues” is a rap on government by reign of
terror and dereliction of duty. The themes of debauchery and power drunkenness
are leitmotifs in the poem as seen in “A debauched/ Carcase-on-High/When
humanoid embryos/ famish for geysers/ Cannibal, phylons fertilize/ Life-denying
excellencies” (10). Besong deplores wanton killing by the Biya regime: “of
prodigal gore/And there was clotted marrow/ and bone” (10).
In “Grey Season” (11), the poet castigates abortive
statecraft. Notice the pun on
“statecraft” and “stategraft.” A pun is
a play on two of the meanings a word may have. Because readers must make a
conscious effort to distinguish between the different semantic meanings of the
word and find out which one the author intended, the pun activates two meanings
at the same time. In other words, readers get both the obvious usual meaning of
the word and the frequently less obvious, more unusual meaning the author
intended. To put this differently, they
get the “norm” and the “deviation” from that norm simultaneously. As Lefevere
would have it, “the clash between the two heightens the pun’s illocutionary
power” (52).
Besong uses the pun in the extract above to blow the
whistle on the corruption that has become endemic in Cameroon: “He quenched
monastic ires, incessant/Amidst a bedlam-of-stategraft” (11). The unexpected
departure of Ahmadou Ahidjo from power and subsequent scheming to return to
power are referenced in this poem: “Lone Herbsman, he crafts/ Treasonable
catechisms/ In the throes of Exile” (11). The foregoing is an allusion to
Ahidjo’s abortive attempts to overthrow Paul Biya after inadvertently handing
power to him in1982. It is important to mention the fact that the word “greys”
is used repeatedly in a bid to underscore the problem of power vacuum that
could result from power mongering.
The theme of exile, its physical and psychological
ramifications constitute the theme of “The Beauty of Exile” (12). Besong
contends that exile re-awakens in the exile the desire to return home: “Do not
say you are abandoned/ And deserted Friend/ For it is the Beauty of your exile/
That has shown how ugly we have become” (12). The perennial Anglophone Question
is broached in this poem in the following excerpt: “Who will bridge the
firepower/Of our anger across the Mungo…/ who will convert the broodings of
these people over the past/ Into bouquets to a new dawn?”(12). The Anglophone
Problem could be summed up as the legitimate grievances of English-speaking
Cameroonians who feel marginalized in the land of their birth. Anglophobia is manifested in the form of
linguistic apartheid, and unbalanced apportioning of governmental posts of
responsibility.
The tragedy of Lake Nyos gas explosion and the
conspiracy theory that followed in its wake thus fueling speculations on the
real cause of this cataclysm constitute the subject matter of “The Kaiser Lied”
(13). The poem puts the blame of the Lake Nyos Disaster squarely on the
shoulders of Cameroon’s Head of State
and his Western accomplices, notably the Israelis: “the pogrom charters/ with
the Yiddish bitumen/ of Jew Wiesenthal-in whorls, suited/in whorls of quisling
carnations…”(14). Besong believes that the Lake Nyos Gas Disaster was not an
act of God; rather it was a human-orchestrated act attributable to the Israelis
as the following excerpts seem to suggest: “ So that Sabbath over when the
Kaiser had lied…/ the gadget of genocidal rotors…/ dropped its nuclear cargo/on
the startled vertebrae/of “gkpim!/ gkpim!/ gkpim!/”(15). Notice the poet’s use
of ideophones: “gkpim! / gkpim! / gkpim! /” to translate the thunderous noise
made by the explosion. As Philip Noss points out, an ideophone is “a
descriptive word that …creates an emotion.
It creates a picture; it is sensual, enabling the listener to identify a
feeling, a sound, color, texture, expression, movement, or silence …. The
ideophone is poetic; it is in the purest sense imagery (75).
Besong takes umbrage at the Cameroonian Head of
State and compares him to white ants that excel in wrecking the foundations of
monuments. The poet is strong in his conviction that Paul Biya sold his
compatriots for a colossal sum of money which he then spirited to banks in
Switzerland and Baden-Baden: “That is why if you want to fathom/ the greed of a
nation-wrecker/Jump, jump into a Swiss-bound, Baden-Baden vault” (13). By
directly implicating foreigners in the Lake Nyos Gas disaster, Besong clamors
for an investigation into the real causes of the seismic occurrence. He points
an accusing finger directly at the Israeli president Ariel Sharon: “he;
nation-wrecker sought /lethal artesians/of an Ariel Sharon …” (14).
Besong’s pen is no respecter of social status or
ranks as the foregoing analysis illustrates. He writes what he wants, not
caring a fig whose ox is gored. That’s why he does not spare Cameroon’s lone
Cardinal, Wyghan Christian Tumi, for failing to call the powers-that-be to
order. In “You must come to our rally, “the poet addresses the Cardinal
directly: “This pharaonic cabal had lied/ Time is not a pontiff/who pardons
simonies/emceed” (16). It is clear that Besong comes down hard on the Cardinal
for condoning the misdeeds of the powers-that-be in Cameroon. This state of
affairs has resulted in economic doldrums and perennial stagnation of the
Republic of Cameroon. Besong sometimes resorts to medical terminology in an
attempt to diagnose the causes of the malady that has afflicted Cameroon. A
plausible example would be: “soporific lanterns, like hollows contained” (25).
It should be noted that a soporific drug tends to produce sleep. In the context
of Cameroon, the alcohol is a potent drug utilized by the government as opium
of the people.
In “For Alexandre Biyidi-Awalaa a.k.a. Mongo Beti
Eza Boto Waggoner of Les Deux mères de Guillaume Ismael Dzewatama,” Besong pays
homage to a freedom fighter and renowned man of letters. Mongo Beti is
portrayed in this poem as a whistle blower: “Ah! Inquirer—as Akometan bloom
flowers you’ll find/ and drunken and insidious air/screaming with bones which
fold and die” (18). Notice the poet’s recourse to sinister imagery once again,
as a pointer to the torments of a troubled mind. Mongo Beti is portrayed as a
harbinger of good tidings for his people: “Your history huts are made of wild
flower and sycamore/a steel fort defying” (18). But no sooner has the poet
raised the hope of his readers than he plunges them once again into a
melancholy tale of woes: “You’ll find/and drunken and insidious air/ screaming
with bones which fold and die/ to the paralyses of a fugitive’s sigh…” (18).
“Guilt” is a poem that speaks volumes about the
death of virtue and the reign of graft in the Republic of Cameroon. The poet is
clearly despondent in the face of widespread corruption that eats deep into the
body politic of his native land: “For, I too have crushed into silence/the daylight
robbery of hands soiled/ with ‘heroes’ blood & ill-gotten gains” (19). This
poem is the poet’s protest against institutionalized thievery, corruption,
influence-peddling, and make-believe as this excerpt reveals: “For I too have
exhumed the cadaverous past/long worn its glorified ostrich mask…” (19) “Guilt”
is the lonesome song of a disenchanted son of the soil at odds with a regime
that feeds on the carcasses of its own people: “I too have exhumed the
cadaverous…” It is a poem that sheds light on the rationale for the caged
bird’s song of hopeless: “I too have imprinted a century’s dark decade/ (this,
to the best of my ability)/ hidden, in a curfewed song!”(19)
Casting his eyes farther afield beyond the frontiers
of the motherland, Besong poeticizes the demise of yet another valiant son of
Africa—Thomas Sankara. In “For Osagyefo Thomas Sankara,” the poet pours
opprobrium on Sankara’s murderers: “Mongrelized Iscariots/ were in fact bred
there” (20). The poet’s recourse to Biblical allusions is noteworthy. Readers
who belong in cultures in which the Bible does not function as a sacred text
may want to find out if there are analogous canonical texts that would enable
them to better understand the poet’s allusions. Biblical literature tells us
that Jesus Christ met his death through one of his disciples christened Judas
Iscariot. In a similar vein, Besong uses this symbolism in reference to the
scheming of Sankara’s childhood friend, Blaise Compaoré, in whose hands he met
his death. “For Osagyefo Thomas Sankara” is a poem that satirizes the
insidiousness of power- mongering in Burkina Faso and Africa as a whole.
It should be noted that Burkina Faso is intended by
the poet to serve as metonymy for the African continent. What transpires in
Burkina Faso is replicated continent-wide. Compaoré’s scheming to eliminate his
childhood friend is laid bare in this verse: “Blaise now, as if he has uprooted
a baobab/and heaved it on his shoulder” (20). Besong compares Blaise Compaoré
to a vulture as seen in this excerpt: “now like carrion-brained/ mannequin
whose/ half-breed mongrels/ co-puppets all bleached/ plotter-faces in shadow
below” (21). Worse still, Compaoré is
portrayed as a lackey of France, doing her dirty job in Africa: “Blaise
Compaoré/France expects every traitor/to do his duty” (21) behind closed doors:
“now that the bastilles are closed to public view” (21).
Besong pours an equal amount of venom on another
lackey of France, President Paul Biya of Cameroon in “Their Champagne party
will end” (22). Biya and ilk are not
content with stealing from State coffers, they resort to occult practices in a
bid to stay in power in perpetuity: “Indeed, they have sworn fealty to their
masonic lodges/ & to each other to bankrupt our national coffers/The curse
on the heads of the corrupt banditti” (22). Note that the word ‘banditti’
refers to a robber, especially a member of a gang or marauding band. Besong has
the conviction that Cameroonian politicians without exception are robbers. They
steal from State coffers, they steal from the electorate, they steal from each
other, and worse still, they steal from the poor! The poet cast aspersions on
the thieving bunch as follows: “A plague on the heads of a corrupt banditti”
(22).
Recourse to occultism as a governmental modus
operandi is echoed in “So they’ll take it upon themselves, for reasons/ best
known to themselves to speak the folklore of their free-masonry…” (23)
Nevertheless, the poet is strong in his conviction that this macabre party will
be short-lived: “But their champagne party will end…” (22). “Their Champagne
party will end” is the poet’s message of hope to the marginalized peoples of
Cameroon. The poet is telling the Cameroonian rank and file to not lose hope
because the end is near for the dictators and tormentors at the helm in
Cameroon.
Besong
bemoans the fate of the exploited proletariat.: “Day after day/When our workers
died of chronic shortages/of overwork and exposure/ it was fashionable for the
repulsive old creeps/ with large baskets of cash/to give their champagne
parties in open defiance of the/victims they had exploited wretched…”(22). The
poet’s metaphor of “revelry” should be construed as wild merry-making,
especially noisy festivities, involving drinking large amounts of alcohol by
politicians and their acolytes. In this light, “Their Champagne party will end”
could be seen as a lampoon on wastefulness, and debauchery in Cameroon. The
poem satirizes the misappropriation of oil revenue in Cameroon and absence of
accountability at the presidency of the Republic: “We have watched our oil
bonuses spreading/along their cobbled facades” (23). The poet decries wasteful spending on white
elephant projects nationwide: “Somewhere up the fringes of their Integration,
it was indeed/ fashionable to erect white elephant structures for a/pampered
nostra” (23). Besong predicts the end of this leprous regime in “The Party’s
Over!”(2)
The poet contends that silencing dissenting voices
through violence seems to be the modus operandi of inept governments like that
of Paul Biya. Witch-hunting, arrests and incarceration are some of the contraptions
employed to contain popular discontent by underperforming government officials.
As Besong would have it, “People who spoke out too inconveniently/it was
fashionable to invite them to gallows/built with multiple steel hooks/&
permanent nooses, swinging…” (23). It is pertinent to note that rule by secret
policing was Ahidjo’s governmental apparatus.
The fact that Cameroon under Ahidjo was a de facto police state
characterized by arbitrary arrests and detention, press censorship and wanton
abuse of human rights is well documented in Joseph Richard’s book (1978).
Besong’s poetry corroborates Richard’s concerns.
Stylistically, “Their Champagne party will end” is a
very rich a poem. It abounds with metaphors (“a devil of a hurry” (23),
allusions (“the arriviste facto” (23), and similes ((“bodies splitting like
rotten calico” (23). Parallelism is another literary device that the poet uses
adeptly. The verse “Their Champagne party will end” is a constant refrain
throughout the poem. Repetition re-enforces concepts and accentuates the impact
of the spoken word on the psyche of the listener. Each time a word is
reiterated, the reader creates a visual interconnection between the signifier
and the signified.
Besong adumbrates the theme of physical and
psychological exile in the poem titled “Exile.” Physical exile is broached via
the leitmotif of departure as the following excerpt suggests: “I anoint my
feet/with swift, O! Such swift/ Cunningness…” (24). In contradistinction,
psychological exile is perceived as extricating oneself from the stranglehold
of hatred and spitefulness:” Applaud themselves from evil/Labyrinths of alien
hate/Let malevolent minds, flourish” (24). It bears noting that the line of
demarcation between physical and psychological exiles is blurred in Besong’s
poem. To put this differently, both phenomena meet somewhere along the
ontological trajectory.
“Eve of an apocalypse” is captivating in many
respects but the aspect that the reader would admire the most in this poem is
code-switching: “tricks/to relume under/the palaver tree/ Mfam aja-oh-o!”(25).
In a footnote, the poet sheds light on the signification of this indigenous
language expression: “salutation to the god of retribution” (25). Another
instance of code-switching is the following: “Assaloumou Aleykoum/aley koum
salaam/Malikum salaam!”(26). These expressions are culled from Arabic, a
language that is spoken alongside Hausa in African countries like Nigeria,
Niger, Cameroon and more. Native tongue words enable the poet to express
cultural specificity. They are effective tools for the transmission of
indigenous knowledge and sensibilities.
Code-switching is an effective cross-cultural communication
tool used diligently in “Eve of an apocalypse.” It enables the poet to express
the socio-cultural specificities and speech mannerisms of Cameroonians in a
European language as seen in the examples above. Notice that “oh-o!” and “O!”
are invocations. Besong invokes the god of retribution to rescue his people
from the stranglehold of political vampires, the cabal working at
cross-purposes in Yaounde. He underscores the fact that misgovernment spells
doom for the nation’s future: “of a cannibal/pharaoh whose obsequies/foreshadow
our bleak futures” (26). In “Eve of an
apocalypse” Besong takes the reader on a walk down memory lane.
The poem is rich by virtue of its historicity. It
brings into the limelight the historical tragedy of Cameroon: her colonization
by three distinct European nations—Germany, France and Great Britain. This
triple hegemony has resulted in a fragmented colonial heritage and its
attendant ills which the poet captures as follows: “to be emptied, into our
silhouette/ memory/ which is our flabbergasted country/fractured at genesis”
(26). The word “genesis” is an allusion to the partitioning of Cameroon between
France and Britain by the League of Nations on July 10, 1919 (Percival, 2008)
following Germany’s defeat in the First World War. Colonization bastardized
Cameroonian indigenous cultures; it alienated the people from ancestral roots.
It is for this reason that Besong enjoins his people to embark on a return to
roots in the poem titled “Poetry is”: “Phoenix of Ujaama/ Soyinka not
Hitler/Peace now, not Hiroshima/ Nyerere not Marshall Amin/ Easter phase of
Ujamaa” (27). “Poetry is” provides the poet with a raison d’être for writing
poetry.
“The Grain of
Bobe Augustine Ngom Jua” celebrates Cameroonian nationalism. Ngom Jua is portrayed
as a symbol of Anglophone nationalism. The poem is a eulogy for a fallen
political hero: “They tore apart limb by
limb/the primeval psaltery over the pine trees/ Crying Bobe’s fame” (28). The
poem smacks of post-mortem remorse. It is also a poem of rejuvenation. Besong
calls on the upcoming generation to pick up the cudgels and fight for
self-determination; they must assume positions of leadership: “the plague on
our heads/ if we fail the generation of young Dante” (29). Readers need to pay
attention to Besong’s literary allusion to Dante, a major Italian poet of the
Middle Ages. His Divine Comedy, originally called Commedia and later called
Divina by Boccaccio, is widely considered the greatest literary work composed
in the Italian language and a masterpiece of world literature. Why would Besong
refer to the younger generation of Cameroonians as “young Dantes?” That is
because he sees in them the revolutionary genius akin to Dante’s that would
transform Cameroon into a habitable clime.
Historical accountability is the subject matter of
the poem titled “April 1984”. The poet’s documentation of the April 6, 1984
aborted coup d’état against incumbent President Paul Biya is significant,
firstly because Cameroonians had never seen anything of its kind before, and
secondly because post-coup reprisals were unfathomably gory: “They hung like
cut-pumpkins seething/skewered-grain on a glen/of gallows” (31). The coup
attempt is widely viewed as one of the most crucial events in the history of
Cameroon since independence in 1960. It was a very bloody occurrence as this
excerpt indicates: “From the dark recesses of one Friday’s / Chilling scourge/
A plague, breeding novel/ Horrors took root…” (31). Besong’s harrowing tale of
this power tussle speaks volumes about the failed democratic process in
Cameroon.
It is not by accident that Besong’s book of poems
has the allure of circularity—it commences with a poem on political shenanigans
and ends with a poem on political spuriousness titled “Druidical Rites” (34).
This poem portrays politicians as chameleons and, therefore, not deserving of
respect nor trust: “To masked sphinxes around me/ I had never seen” (34).
“Druidical Rites” is the meditation of a solitary scribbler. It is a poem in
which history repeats itself: “Of waters whose cawing, I have heard” (34).
Morose as Besong may sound in this anthology of poetry, it must be noted that
the book is not bereft of sensual love. “Kristina” is an outburst of sensual
emotions: “Queened; shod my feet with bouquets my love/And wines of calm-rites
at harvest-tides” (28). “Kristina” eulogizes the poet’s filial love for his
progeny: “Celebrate. From joyful womb which my seeds pollened/ Skein
manger-sheafs, in proper seasons, yield…” (28).
In sum, Just
above Camerooon serves as a mirror that reflects the socio-political
goings-on in Cameroon. The creative genius, esthetic excellence, universality
of concerns, and the germaneness of the themes addressed in Besong’s book of
poems speak volumes about the mental fertility of the poet. The themes are
context-specific and may defy comprehension for readers who are not acquainted
with Cameroon, its people, and politics that serve as the matrix for the poet’s
literary creativity. This,
notwithstanding, the poems are totally enjoyable when the initial perceptual
barriers have been surmounted. Just above
Cameroon is a seminal work of literature that focalizes on the
short-comings of a rogue government, the regime of Mr. Paul Biya. Besong views
Cameroon as a nation that self destructs.
Works
cited
Achebe, Chinua.
Morning yet on Creation Day:
Essays. London: Heinemann,
1975.
Besong,
Bate. Just Above Cameroon:Selected Poems(1984-1990).Limbe,
Nooremac, 1998.
Dante,
Alighieri. The Divine Comedy. Boulder: Project
Gutenberg, 1308.
Joseph,
Richard. Gaullist Africa: Cameroon under
Ahmadou Ahidjo. Enugu: Fourth Dimension
Publishers, 1978.
Lefevere,
André. Translating Literaure: Practice
and Theory in a Comparative Literature
Context. New York: MLA,
1992.
Noss,
Philip A. “The Ideophone: A Dilemma for Translation and Translation Theory. Ed.
Paul Kotey F. New Dimensions in African Linguistics and Languages. Trenton: Africa
World Press, 1999.
____________.“Translating
the Ideophone: Perspectives and Strategies of
Translators and Artists.” Eds. Angelina Overvold E. The Creative Circle:
Artist, Critic
and Translator in African
Literature.
Trenton: Africa
World Press,
2003.
Percival,
John. The 1961 Cameroon Plebiscite:
Choice or Betrayal. Bamenda, Langaa, 2008.
About
the author
Professor Peter Vakunta teaches at the Defense
Language Institute in California
Peter Wuteh Vakunta, Reviewer
Being black and being human is the
leitmotif that runs through Aimé Césaire’s theater. In an attempt to
problematize the dilemma of being black in a race-conscious capitalist society,
Ojo-Ade chooses to do a succinct study of Césaire’s four plays, the setting of
which is continental Africa: Et les
chiens se taisaient (1956), La tragédie
du roi Christophe (1963), Une saison
au Congo (1966), and Une tempête (1969).
In Et les chiens se taisaient, Césaire re-awakens the phantom of the
self-styled civilizing mission, the stock-in-trade of which is the denigration
of the African personality under the veneer of benevolence. Césaire’s
protagonist, the Rebel, reaffirms his pride in being African. Ojo–Ade observes:
“…the rebel details his struggles, affirms his failed battle to deny his
African gods, and laments all attempts at de-Africanization, convinced as he is
that Africa deserves to be defended by her children against the invaders and
rapists” (26). The Rebel warns his people against the dangers of superficiality
and artificiality. Thus, Césaire revisits the belabored troika—slavery,
colonization, and negritude in this mind-boggling play. The theme of slavery is
recurrent in the play. The Rebel notes that at the beginning of the trajectory,
“there was misery of slaves crossing the great sea of misery, the great sea of
black blood” (113). He perceives his son
as a metonym for all oppressed children of Africa, indeed, of the entire black
race that must be liberated from the shackles of Western Civilization. The
Rebel repudiates the false belief in Christianity as a redemptive force for
Africans and proudly attests to his illuminating role as leader of an oppressed
people. As Ojo-Ade would have it, the
oppressor uses the subterfuge of religion “to subvert the victims’ culture, to
take their attention away from the essentials of life on earth as they
ostensibly encourage them to seek life everlasting in an unknown space of
perfection and purity” (41). All along,
the Rebel’s resounding words incessantly hit hard at both oppressors and their accomplices:
“All, you will not leave until you have felt the bite of my words on your
imbecile souls…” (173)
Et
les chiens se taisaient is rich in symbolism, the most significant of them
all being the trope of kingship. A procession of African kings invades one of the
scenes, symbolizing the remarkable black civilization long forgotten by both
oppressors and oppressed. In a similar vein, the architect, portrayed in the
play as the implacable enemy, is a symbol of capitalist Europe, conqueror and
exploiter. The play harbors racial undertones.
Césaire establishes a series of dichotomies between Whites and Blacks. The
white race is portrayed as follows:
This
materialistic race
Gold
and silver have woven their pale color.
Waiting
for the grey has curved their wild nose
the
glow of steel is embedded in their cold eyes
Oh,
it is a race without velvet (152).
These words of hate emanate from the soul of
black folks, oppressed for too long; now determined to break from all manacles.
As Ojo-Ade maintains, they are the words of a people “digging into the past to
fashion a vision that would construct a future of pride of purpose, of
rehabilitated humanity and dignity from the present of alienation and
collusion” (34).Et les chiens se
taisaient is the anatomy of resistance as a tool of emancipation. The
Rebel’s courage is the counterpoint to the racial cowardice of his racist
jailer. His defiance symbolizes the master’s moral defeat even as he wields the
whip of torture that leads to the Rebel’s death. The ultimate trope of dog is the playwright’s portrayal of the
white race as a pack of carnivorous, steel-eyed assassins, hypocritical
purveyors of injustice and symbols of the very opposite of things human.
La
tragédie du roi Christophe fictionalizes the tragedy of a benevolent
dictator—King Christophe of Haiti. Ojo-Ade notes that “Haiti is a perfect
representation of the post-slavery and postcolonial periods in Africa’s
history, perfect because it is the only country where blacks took up arms
against the implacable, civilized
enslavers-colonizers and defeated them” (68). It is noteworthy that Christophe
had qualities of dignity, revolutionary fervor for freedom and equality as well
as military adherence to law and order that stood him in good stead as a
leader. Césaire’s interest gravitates around King Christophe’s leadership
qualities and his responsibility as a leader entrusted with the critical task
of nation-building. Christophe is portrayed as trailblazer, breaker of barriers
and harbinger of better days ahead. Like
his other plays, Césaire uses La tragédie
to adumbrate the question of racial schism not only in Haiti but also in
all colonized climes the world over. In
point of fact, the racist thrust is
present in various configurations and looms large in this play. The dichotomy
and racial tension between whites and blacks are palpable throughout the play:
Europe-Haiti, superior-inferior, civilized-savage, developed-underdeveloped.
These rifts notwithstanding, Christophe is determined to prove to the
oppressors that he and his people are worthy of being accepted into the
community of humans. The infamy of de-identification of blacks remains a theme
of great interest throughout the play as this excerpt indicates: “In the past
they stole our names from us! Our pride! Our nobility, they, I say, they stole
them from us!”(37) Césaire makes a weighty statement when he alludes to the
obliteration of slave identity by slave-masters. It was not just names that
were stolen from slaves; their languages were stifled as well.
In stark defiance of these
machinations, Christophe continues to lay claim to his Africanity and black ancestry
by paying homage to his Bambara ancestors: “Blow, blow, white savanna as my
Bambara ancestors used to say…” (110). His security men, Royal Dahomets, are
recruited directly from Africa because of their loyalty and commitment. He
tries to create in his court an atmosphere reminiscent of the African family
and community. Césaire portrays Christophe’s
attempts at re-Africanization as a return to roots. True to himself, he makes
appropriate use of symbolism as an effective communicative technique. The Citadel
is a symbol of endurance and quest for excellence, proof that blacks are
capable of extraordinary achievements. Sadly enough, like all tragic heroes, Christophe
has flaws. In his anxiety to complete the Citadel, he becomes a brutal dictator,
ordering everyone to work, including children: “Yes, children! You big
scoundrel! It’s their future that we are constructing!”(83) All in all,
Christophe is depicted as an ambivalent character throughout the play. The
sublime symbolism of the Citadel is matched by the ridiculous creation of sham
nobility, of fake families based on coerced marriages. His act of patting
women’s buttocks has been picked up by critics as a sign of low morals and lack
of etiquette, and a contradiction to his decree on matrimony as essential for
faithfulness and responsible behavior. Christophe has a false sense of grandeur
as seen in the following lamentation: “I
regret nothing. I tried to put something into an ungrateful earth.” (138) Ojo-Ade observes that the play “calls our
attention to the king’s foibles, impossible to gloss over in the atmosphere of
tension and the unfolding tragedy” (118).
La
tragédie du roi Christophe is a lampoon on Western civilization, notably
its religious precepts. Césaire’s
allusion to Catholicism and the decrees its makes to regulate matrimony is
derided in this drama. It should be
noted that in Haiti, the traditional religion, Voodoo, is more prominent among
the people than Christianity. Any attempt to circumvent this indigenous
religion is tantamount to courting disaster. Christophe betrays Shango but the
betrayed Shango will end up avenging himself and causing the king’s downfall. He arrogates to himself the absolute supremacy
fit for a godhead, dehumanizes Voodoo representatives, and calls upon himself
the wrath of the Almighty. By underscoring the triumph of Shango, Césaire
confirms the centrality of indigenous religions among black Haitians. It is in
this light that Ojo-Ade posits: “In order to fully understand the gravity of
Christophe’s sin one must note the importance of African religion in Haiti’s
revolution” (119). Convinced that he is a victim of malevolent forces,
Christophe finds solace in Voodoo. His
songs, complemented by those of his wife, bear witness to his final
rehabilitation. In sum, the theme of self-consciousness among blacks seems to
constitute the thread that holds the whole play intact.
Une saison au Congo recounts the rise and
fall of Patrice Lumumba, legendary Prime Minister of Belgian Congo. After
dealing with the meteoric rise and fall of Haitian King Christophe, Césaire
casts his synthesizing eyes on another encounter between Africa and Europe,
this time using a man whom Europe has refused to admit to the fold of humans.
In this historical play, Césaire brings us face to face with Machiavelian
colonizers, from the descendants of King Leopold II to his official
representatives on the ground, to the
businessmen who milked the colony’s immense natural resources, to the military lording it over a crop of incompetent natives. Une saison
au Congo is a tragic tale; the tragedy of the Belgian Congo. Patrice
Lumumba towers above everyone else in this unfolding tragedy because he
symbolizes the pride, and integrity of the Congolese people. He is at the
center of the tragedy because his assassination brings to the fore Africa’s conundrum. As Ojo-Ade observes, “ Whether they be
friends or foes, they all consider the man extraordinary, standing head and
shoulders above the rest, whose mediocrity is accentuated by his massive
superiority” (164). Césaire uses the stylistic device of juxtaposition to
underscore Lumumba’s superhuman attributes. While Lumumba’s name remains unaltered
throughout the play, the names of the villains, those plotting to kill him, are
deformed, diminished, indeed, tinkered out of shape to conform to their
villainous characters. Besides, all
those mangled names connote the subterfuge and superficiality inherent in the
name-bearers.
The tragedy of the Congo as
recounted in Une saison au Congo resides
in the fact that armed with the solution to the Congolese Question Lumumba is
prevented from implementing his progressive agenda. Like King Christophe of
Haiti, he realizes the urgency of the task at hand and refuses to go slow. He
tells members of his cabinet: “We must go too fast” (Saison, 34). Like Christophe, Lumumba was not perfect despite his
stellar qualities. Mokutu, Sobriquet for Mobutu, is portrayed throughout the
play as Lumumba’s Achille’s heel. Yet he
calls Mokutu is friend and brother: “It’s true, Mokutu is a soldier, and Mokutu
is my friend, Mokutu is my brother” (37). Even as he symbolizes the fiery
qualities of African liberation, Lumumba is dragged down toward the cult of
personalities and the canker of corruption that constitutes the bane of the
African continent. As for the demise of Lumumba, Césaire lays the brunt
squarely on the shoulders of White imperialists. Ojo-Ade posits: “It should be
recalled that the West, led by the United States, was clearly against Lumumba
and in support of Katanga whose mineral wealth they were targeting. Labeling
Lumumba a communist was tantamount to sending him to his grave.” (175) In
short, Césaire constructs the plot of this play to confirm the collusion
between external and internal forces in the elimination of Lumumba. These words
from Ojo-Ade are poignant enough: “The U.S., even though the
master-coordinator-collaborator remains the invisible hand; and Belgium, very
visible, remains behind the front guard of Congolese predators” (187).
Lumumba’s portrait in Une saison au Congo
is that of a man who defines
politics not as the preserve of prostitutes and pimps masturbating over public
wealth but as a precept of probity anchored on commitment to selfless service to
the people. Césaire leaves us with a worrisome thought when he perceives
politics as a game of gangsterism and self-gratification, concretized in the
power to shamelessly empty the coffers of the nation and reap the fruits of the
people’s labor.
Césaire’s Une tempête is calqued on William
Shakespeare’s play The Tempest (1921).
The play brings to the limelight the power dynamics inherent in a colony.
Prospero, Caliban and Ariel are the major role-players in this drama. They re-enact
the conflict between the colonizer and the colonized. The play is set on a mysterious island surrounded by an ocean. Prospero
rules the island with his two servants, Ariel and Caliban. When Prospero
shipwrecked on the Island, Caliban and Ariel treated him kindly but Prospero
later makes them his unwilling servants. In Scene Two of the play we encounter
Prospero and his servants—the self-effacing Ariel, and Caliban, an abrasive, foul-mouthed servant. We are told
that while the language of Ariel is that of a slave who binds himself to his
master without question, that of Caliban is one that questions the authority
of his master as seen in the except
below:
You taught me language;
And my profit on’t is I know how to curse.
The red plague rid you
For learning me your language!” (Tempest, 1, ii 363-65)
Caliban’s language of resistance in this excerpt comes as a shock to
Prospero, as it is unexpected that a servant would defy his master in this
manner. Caliban’s anger toward his master is indicative of his urge to be freed
from Prospero’s domination. Césaire’s
play sheds light on the dynamics of
power in a colonial set-up. The relationship between Prospero and his servants
throughout the play supports a colonialist reading of the text. It is the
craving for emancipation that Césaire
fictionalizes in Une tempête as Caliban’s vituperative language shows:
Tu m’as tellement menti,
Menti sur le monde, menti sur moi-même
Que tu as fini par m’imposer
Une image de moi-même
Un sous développé, comme tu dis,
Un sous-capable,
Voilà comment tu m’as
obligé à me voir,
Et cette image, je la hais! Elle est fausse!
Et maintenant, je te connais, vieux cancer,
Et je me connais aussi! (88)[i]
A keen examination of the foregoing passage reveals the relationship
between language and race; and the constitutive, and therefore, putatively
ontological power of a dominant language. Like Caliban, the postcolonial writer
feels incapacitated by a borrowed identity.
The encounter between Caliban and Prospero raises interesting questions about
the function of language and power dynamics in postcolonial Afro-Caribbean
literature. The play provides one of the most telling demonstrations of the
critical importance of language in the colonial encounter. Caliban’s reaction
to the diatribes of Prospero’s daughter, Miranda, encapsulates the malaise and
bitter reaction of many colonized peoples to centuries of linguistic and
cultural servitude. Caliban’s language is the product of a mindset in a state
of malaise. He rejects the master’s language because Prospero has given him the
tools of communication but has failed to give him the leeway and
self-responsibility with which to use language. His rebellious attitude
is a reaction to his feeling that he is being unfairly used and subjugated. By appropriating the master’s language,
Caliban is able to break out of Prospero’s infernal linguistic prism. His
longing for autonomy makes him relevant in the study of postcolonial Afro-Caribbean
literature. Like Caliban, Afro-Caribbean fiction writers frequently manipulate
hegemonic language in a bid to dismantle the power structures in the
post-colony. By doing so, ex-colonized writers are able to actualize their own
possibility of being.
In a nutshell, Aimé Césaire’s
African Theater: Of Poets, Prophets and Politicians is a celebration of
black consciousness. This book is an
invaluable tribute to Mother Africa and her offspring living in the diaspora.
Femi ojo-Ade has accomplished the laudable task of bringing these books to the
attention of Africans and Africanists both at home and abroad. The seminal importance of this work to
students and scholars of Afro-Caribbean literature cannot be overstated. It is worth the read.
Notes
About the
world, about yourself [sic],
That you
ended up by imposing on me
An image of
myself:
Underdeveloped,
in your words, incompetent,
That’s how
you made me see myself!
And I
loathe that image…and it’s false!
But now I
know you, you old cancer,
And I also
know myself! (A Tempest, 70]
Book Review: Une tempête by Aimé Césaire. Paris: Editions du Seuil.1955. 92 pp. Paper Back $15.94. ISBN 978-2020314312
Peter Wuteh Vakunta, Reviewer
After publishing his indicting Discours sur le colonialisme (1955), Martinican literary icon, Aimé Césaire comes
up with yet another lampoon on the nefarious effects of colonialism on colonies— Une tempête. In this play
Césaire satirizes the much maligned mission civilisatrice hype of French
colonization of Africa and other dominions. Une
tempête is set on a mysterious island surrounded by the ocean. Prospero
rules the island with his two servants, Ariel and Caliban. He has a daughter named Miranda. There are
other characters such as Gonzalo, Antonio, le Maître, Alonso, Sébastien,
Stephano, Trinculo and Ferdinand among others. When Prospero shipwrecked on the
Island, Caliban and Ariel treated him kindly but Prospero later makes them his
unwilling servants. We learn in reading this play that the
language of Ariel is that of a slave who binds himself to his master without
question; on the other hand, the language of Caliban is one that questions the
authority of his master. He hates his master and describes him as an
illusionist: “”Prospero, tu es un grand illusionniste...”(88)
Tu m’as tellement menti,
Menti sur le monde, menti sur moi-même
Que tu as fini par m’imposer
Une image de moi-même
Un sous développé, comme tu dis,
Un sous-capable,
Voilà comment tu m’as obligé à me voir,
Et cette image, je la hais! Elle est fausse!
Et maintenant, je te connais, vieux cancer,
Et je me connais aussi! (88)
A keen examination of the passage above sheds light on the relationship
between language, colonialism and power dynamics; the connection between language
and race; and the constitutive, and, therefore, putatively ontological power of
a dominant language. Caliban’s anger toward his master is indicative of his
desire to be freed from Prospero’s domination.
This theme of decolonization in Une
tempête can be explored by examining the dynamics of
power between Prospero, the supposed ‘colonialist’ and the colonized
natives—Ariel and Caliban.The encounter between Caliban and Prospero raises
intriguing questions about the function of language and exercise of power in
postcolonial literatures. The play provides one of the most telling
illustrations of the critical importance of language in the colonial encounter.
Caliban’s outburst against Prospero’s half-truths, encapsulates the
malaise and bitter reaction of many colonized peoples to centuries of linguistic
and cultural imperialism: “le mensonge, ça te connaît” (88). Caliban’s language is the product of a mind
surely in a state of general discomfort. He rejects Prospero’s language because
Prospero has given him the tools of communication in a manner that leaves him
lacking the freedom and responsibility with which to use it: “Tu ne m’as rien appris tu tout. Sauf, bien
sûr à baragouiner ton langage pour comprendre tes ordres: couper les bois,
laver la vaisselle, pécher le poisson, planter les légumes, parce que tu es
bien trop fainéant pour le faire” (25).Caliban’s rebellious attitude is
an expected reaction from someone who feels he is being unjustly used and
subjugated. By appropriating the
master’s language, Caliban is able to re-assert his right to use language the
way he deems fit.
In a nutshell, Une tempête is a masterly writing on the power dynamics between the colonizer and
the colonized. It brings to the fore the hollowness of the much vaunted
civilzing mission of the French and other colonial powers. This would be insightful
reading for students of postcolonial Francophone literatures. I highly
recommend it for inclusion in college and university courses.
About the reviewer.
Dr. Peter Wuteh Vakunta teaches at the United States
Department of Defense Language Institute in California. He is linguist and
professor of Postcolonial Francophone literatures.
Book review: De la Françafrique à la Mafiafrique by François Xavier Verschave. Bruxelles: Editions Tribord, 2004, 69 pp. Paperback EUR 2,94. 2-930390-10-7
Reviewer: Peter Wuteh Vakunta, PhD
In a 69-page well researched book titled De la Françafrique à la Mafiafrique [From Françafrique to Mafiafrique], Francois Xavier Verschave exposes the underbelly of France and its covert activities in Africa. He contends that Françafrique has evolved from the status of a postcolonial contraption conceived by Charles de Gaulle more than five decades ago to keep French-speaking African countries in perpetual bondage to that of a global mafia organization masterminded by unscrupulous mercenaries like Bob Denard, Le Floch-Prigent, André Tarallo, and Benard Courcelle and ilk. Verschave notes that the substance of his book grew out of testimonies given by Africans who wanted to tell the stories of their plight and wanton pillaging of their respective countries by France, the ex-colonizer: "Je restitue simplement ce que l'on m'a apporté: ce sont des milliers de témoins africains qui sont venus nous expliquer ce qu'ils vivent dans leurs pays. Leur problème, c'est que ces pays ont été divisés par les politiques coloniales, éparpillés; avec de surcroît la repression des dictatures..." (64)
Verschave does not mince words in his condemnation of the nefarious effects of Françafrique on the political economies of the entire African continent: "... cette politique franco-africaine, que j'ai appelée la `Françafrique' et qui est une caricature de néo-colonialisme, est une politique extraordinairement nocive."(6) The intriguing thing about this diabolical caricature is that both Africans and French are acting in collusion to sustain it, and therefore share collective blame for its existence. In Verschave's own words, "la Françafrique...ce sont des Français et des Africains. Donc, évidemment, il y a des Africains qui jouent un rôle important dans le système de domination, de pillage..." (8). All Francophone African Heads of States are painted with the same brush, however, Houphouet Boigny, Gnassingbé Ayadéma, Omar Bongo, Juvénal Habyarimana, and Denis Sassou Nguesso were seen as lynchpins of Françafrique until their demise. Denis Sassou Nguesso, who has outlived them all, now coordinates the dirty job of France in Africa.
Verschave resorts to the anology of the iceberg in a bid to accentuate the unfathomable dimensions and ramifications of Françafrique. According to him, only the tip of the iceberg is visible to the rest of the world; the rest is a closely guarded secret known only to its perpetrators in very high positions of power in France and Africa:"La Françafrique, c'est comme un iceberg. Vous avez la face du dessus, la partie émergée de l'iceberg: la France meilleure amie de l'Afrique, patrie des droits de l'Homme, etc. Et puis, en fait, vous avez 90% de la relation qui est immergée: l'ensemble des mécanismes de maintien de la domination française en Afrique avec des alliés africains" (10). Needless to belabor the point that Verschave is being terribly sarcastic when he refers to France as the best friend of Africa and the bastion of human rights. Even those who have never set foot on the soil of this European nation are aware of the fact that the French motto: liberté, égalité, fraternité, or Liberty, equality, fraternity is a loud-sounding nothing.
Verschave adumbrates four main reasons that motivated Charles de Gaulle to put Françafrique in place to serve as a postcolonial control mechanism. The first reason is the leverage that France has at the United Nations, where allied nations back her up in the event of a vote. The second reason is France's dire need for strategic raw materials (timber, cocoa, coffee, crude oil, etc). The third reason is the astronomical sums of money that African Heads of States sheepishly send to France each time Presidential polls are conducted on French soil. The fourth reason is linked to the role that France played as an ally of the United States of America during the Cold War era. Both countries were in alliance to keep the African continent out of the ambit of Communists.
Verschave is convinced that the inception of Françafrique calls into question the signification of political independence granted to French colonies in Africa more than five decades ago. As he puts it, "pour ces quatre raisons, on met en place un système qui va nier les indépendances."(10)To ensure the success of Françafrique, De Gaulle handpicked a fine strategist in the person of Jacques Foccart to implement his 'dirty' policies in Africa. Foccart's starting point was to select a bunch of African lackeys nicknamed "les amis de la France" or "Friends of France." Many of these so-called friends of France are francophone African presidents holding French nationality. Notorious among them is Omar Bongo who passed away a few years ago and was succeeded by his son, Ali Bongo. Of the several strings that France uses to tie up African nations in order to keep them in a vicious circle of dependency, Verschave singles out the Franc CFA as the most effective tool. He notes that the acronym "CFA" means "Colonies françaises d'Afrique", which could be translated as "French colonies in Africa." Insightful revelation! Who knew that more than five decades after gaining independence from France, francophone African countries remain French colonies? As Verschave puts it, "Ce CFA convertible a permis, pendant des dizaines d'années, de faire évader les capitaux de ces pays. Au moment des campagnes électorales en France, on se mettait à pleurer sur le fait que tel Etat africain, le Cameroun ou le Togo, par example, n'avait plus de quoi payer ses fonctionnaires. Donc, on envoyait un avion avec une aide financière directe, un chargement de billets CFA, à Yaoundé ou à Lome."(14)
The political implication of all these machinations is that Africa is now saddled with demo-dictators who are not the choice of the populace by any stretch of the imagination.These unpopular sit-tight leaders are constantly being propped up by France because they implement French hidden agenda on the African continent. Whether one is looking at the scenario in Cameroon, Togo, Gabon or Congo-Brazzaville, the rules of the game remain the same: dictators buy their tenure at the helm of their countries with astronomical sums of money sent to the Champs Elysée in briefcases on a regular basis. France then sends mercenaries and secrets agents to make sure that elections are rigged in favor of their henchmen in Africa. In the words of Verschave, here is how the system works:"On envoie des urnes transparentes, des bulletins de vote et des envelopes dans ces pays; on déclare: `oui, vraiment, c'est bien, ils arrivent à la démocratie;donc, on va les aider;et en même temps, on envoie dans les capitales de ces pays des coopérants très spéciaux... qui vont installer un système informatique de centralisation des résultants un peu spécial: alors que les gens ont veillé jour et nuit auprès des urnes pour être surs que leur suffrage soit respecté, alors qu'ils ont voté à 70% ou 80% pour chasser le dictateur, ils se retrouvent à la fin avec un dictateur réélu avec 80% des voix..."(20). So much for electoral gerrymandering and fraud à la française in Africa! Little wonder the Biyas, Bongos, Nguessos, Derbys, Ayademas, Mobutus, Boignys and ilk are presidents for life!
One take-away from a careful reading of this instructive book is that the brunt of the underdevelopment of Africa should be borne by France and Africans alike given that African leaders behave like frightened chicken and give the French free rein to manipulate them. Worse, Africa is blighted by two cankers: debilitating corruption and corrosive ethnocentrism or tribalism. To borrow words from Verschave again, "Il y a selon moi, deux principaux poisons néo-coloniaux: la soi-disant fatalité de la corruption et l'instrumentalisation de l'ethnisme" (65).
In a nutshell, François Xavier Verschave's De la Françafrique à la Mafiafrique is a treasure trove of information and hidden facts about the manner in which France persistently fleeces francophone nation-states in Africa. This masterpiece would serve as an eye-opener for those who are unaware of the strategies that France has used to under-develop Africa over the years. It is recommended reading for students, professors and researchers in the domain of Francophone studies. Africans and friends of Africa should read it with an open mind.
Notes
1.I have simply documented the testimonies of thousands of Africans who came to inform us of their experiences in their home countries. They observed that their countries have been torn apart and put asunder by colonial policies implemented by dictatorial governments.
2. This Franco-African policy that I have christened 'Françafrique' is a neocolonialist caricature that has extremely deleterious consequences.
3."Françafrique is sustained by the French and Africans. Thus, Africans are certainly playing a crucial role in promoting the domination and pillaging of their continent...
4.Françafrique is like an iceberg. It has a visible face, the part that is exposed to the world, portraying France as the best friend of Africa and bastion of human rights, etc. Then, there is the invisible part that amounts to 90% of France's relations with African countries submerged: the network of mechanisms put in place to keep Africans in bondage with the complicity of African allies.
5. For these four reasons, the French instituted a system that made the independence of African nations a non-starter.
6. This convertible CFA franc has facilitated capital flight from African nations to France for decades. During electoral campaigns in France, you would hear citizens in Cameroon or Togo complaining that the State has become broke and is unable to pay civil servants. The reason is that all the money has been sent from Yaoundé or Lomé,for example, to France to fund the political campaigns of presidential candidates.
7.Transparent ballot boxes and envelopes are sent to these countries; and then the French say:`you see, they are advancing toward democratic governance; let's help them get there; but at the same time, France sends experts particularly savvy in the art of election rigging to install vote-counting computers that are a little special: so, whereas the electorate has kept vigil day and night to ensure that their ballots are properly counted; whereas they have voted at 70% or 80% in order to chase the dictator away from power, the tallies declared often show that the dictator has been re-elected with 80% of the votes cast...
8."In my opinion, there are two neo-colonial poisons: the so-called fatality of corruption and the institutionalization of tribalism.
About the author
DR. Peter Vakunta is professor of modern languages at the United States Department of Defense Language Institute in California.
Surrealism in Jean Malonga's La légende de M' Pfmoumou Ma Mazono,
Paris, Présence Africaine, 1973.
Reviewer: Peter Wuteh Vakunta,PhD
Malonga's La légende de M' Pfmoumou Ma Mazono (1954) is written in the form of a novel grafted on a folktale. The major theme of Malonga's text is the portrayal of a well-organized traditional African society in a colonial set-up. The protagonist Bitouala symbolizes change in the society that Malonga describes. From very humble beginnings (his mother is an outlaw who runs away from her community after being caught cheating on her husband), Ma Mazono succeeds in effecting revolutionary changes in his community. For example, he abolishes slavery and replaces it with an egalitarian system based on merit and hard work. Malonga paints a fascinating picture of cultural change in his novel.
As in most African legendary tales, Malonga evokes surrealism as a thematic detail in his text. For instance, when Bitouala is about to ask for Hakoula's hand in marriage, the narrator bursts into some sort of incantation, as if to invoke the spirits of the ancestors. At the time when Bitouala is about to present the "mouanga-loumbou", the symbol of betrothal, to Hakoula, the narrator intunes a chant: "Oh mystérieux amour, inexplicable Amant qui fait balloter en épave la sensible nature, terrible inconnu qui dompte les plus belles, amour indéfinissable à l'entendement physique, pourquoi tiens-tu enfermés sous ton manteau bleu-rose deux coeurs qui se sentent irréstiblement attirés l'un vers l'autre? Pourquoi fais-tu agiter de frayeur, comme un roseau, ce fier épervier prêt à voler vers son pôle positif? (22)
Legends, it must be remembered, often border on the supernatural. This is the reason why Malonga's protagonist is endowed with the ability to fly. He is also compared to a "sparrow hawk" and his love for Hakoula is akin to a fiery sentiment strong enough to tame the most rebellious mind. The novelist takes his readers on a hike into a world of the absurd, for absurdity is indeed part and parcel of the surreal. For example, the narrator tells the reader that as Bidounga, the village chief, brings out his daughter to be officially given away in marriage, he refrains from eating; he only feeds on kola nuts and drinks the juice of a sacred plant. This "fasting" ritual enables him to communicate spiritually with the spirits of his ancestors. He is said to be sitting on a panther's skin which becomes the medium through which he communicates with his forebears. Once Hakoula gets into the magic circle, she is initiated and becomes the priestess of the clan: "Le recouvrant alors du tapis rouge, le père remet les insignes du pouvoir spirituels à son enfant et lui glisse à l'oreille quelques mots dont le secret sera gardé envers tout le monde. La novice passe ensuite à trois reprises entre les jambes écartées du père, puis assenant d'un coup sonore le gong de la famille, elle dit: 'Mânes de N'Tsoundi, prouvez aujourd'hui que je suis de votre maison. Obéissez à ma voix, exécutez mes ordres'"(33).
What follows this rite of passage is a true test of the supernatural powers bestowed on Hakoula: a herd of crocodiles stood in a line across the river permitting her and her family to cross safely. The narrator reacts in anticipation of what he imagines would be the disbelief of an incredulous reader: "Doutez! Lecteurs si vous voulez, mais pour les spectateurs oculaires ayant vécu le fait, leur condition est absolue" (35). Malonga's narrative lends credibility to the claim that magical realism is an integral part of African oral literature. The initiation rites portrayed in this novel are clearly inspired by belief in the supernatural, notably the magical powers with which the Bakongo are endowed. These invisible forces prepare Hakoula for the task that lies ahead.
Malonga translates the folklore of his people into a written text. A good example is the song titled "Bouloungou de N'kongo" that Hakoula sings in a bid to make the totemic crocodiles line up and form a bridge across the river. The song is dedicated to the water gods, the Boloungo, or mami-wata.Malonga alludes to the presence of a live audience when he writes: "Mapouata a bondi vers le flambeau le plus proche pour y brûler l'emblème sacré .... Des ovations enthousiastes ont honoré l'expoit" (135).The fact that the audience is said to have applauded underscores the importance Malonga attaches to the presence of a live, participating audience in his narrative.
In sum, this is a work of literature written by a virtuoso. The thing that I find absent from Malonga's narrative is imagery. Unlike his peers who embellish literary works with rhetorical devices, Malonga refrains from using narrative devices, namely metaphors, similes and aphorisms. However, this lacuna does not do disservice to his narrative given that he resorts to proverbial expressions for communicative effect. For instance, he uses the following expression to depict Hakoula's love for N'Dzingoula: "Ce que femme veut, les Mânes le tolèrent en fermant les yeux" (39).Moreover, the writer succeeds in adding local color and flavor to his story by inscribing the vernacular names of real people and places (e.g., Bitouala, Hakoula, Mapouta, N'Tsoundi, etc,) into his narrative.
It is regrettable that critics like Blair fault Malonga for producing a second-rate novel by attempting to fuse too many traditional verbal art forms into his text. She argues:"In trying to superimpose a collage of a moral tale of sin and redemption, a philosophical account of a Utopian state, a romance of sensual and ideal love, on a background of traditional folklore, with its mystic and supernatural elements, Malonga has tried to fuse too many genres and has prejudiced his success in any(71).This sort comment from a literary critic who is clearly unaware of the close relationship between the contemporary African novel and the oral tale does lend credibility to the contention that Western critics of African literature suffer from epistemological anorexia. La légende de M' Pfmoumou Ma Mazono is a well written novel that should be read with gusto. It is a must read for students of francophone African literature.
Notes
1.Oh mysterious Love, unexplainable Lover who rolls sensitive nature around in flotsam and jetsam; love, this terribly Unknown thing which tames the most rebellious, indefinable Love to physical understanding, why do you keep enclosed under your bluish pink coat, two hearts which feel irresistibly attracted to each other? Why do you make this proud sparrow hawk ready to fly toward its positive pole, shiver with fear? ]
2.Kola nut (cola) is a genus of about 125 species of trees native to the tropical rainforests of Africa. The kola nut has a bitter flavor and contains caffeine. It is chewed in many African cultures, individually or in a group setting. It is often used ceremonially, presented to tribal chiefs and to visitors. Chewing kola nut can ease hunger pangs. Kola nuts are used mainly for their stimulant and euphoriant qualities. They have stimulant effects on the central nervous system and heart. They enhance alertness and physical energy, elevate mood, increase tactile sensitivity and suppress appetite. It is used in most parts of Africa as an aphrodisiac and as a component of the traditional bride price. For more on the ceremonial functions of the kola nut, see Chinua Achebe's Things Fall Apart (1958) and this author's poem "Kola Nut" in his poetic anthology titled Green Rape (2008).
3.Then picking her up from the red carpet, the father gives back the insignias of spiritual power to his child and whispers in her ears a few words whose secret will be kept from everybody. The novice then passes there times under the open legs of her father, then hitting the family gong hard, she says: "Spirits of N'Tsoundi prove today that I am of your house. Obey my voice, carry out my orders.
4.Doubt it! Readers, if you like, but for eye-witnesses who saw it, their belief is absolute.
5.Mami Wata refers to mermaid-like figures, which are believed to have a woman's upper body (often nude) and the hindquarters of a serpent. These water spirits flaunt their unimaginable wealth that binds those who view them. Mami Wata may also manifest in a number of other forms. Mami Wata is represented in many different African religious systems, such as the vodou in Benin and Togo, and Southern Ghana, where there exists an actual consecration body of lineal priests and priestesses of the Ewe, Ando-Ewe, Mina, Kabye and other African ethnic groups , whose worship of ancient deities predates their arrival in their present locations. Mami Wata deities are closely associated with water. Mami Wata tradition is strongly associated with all matters involving spiritual and psychic phenomena, including divination and spiritual healing. Worship practices for these deities vary, but in some branches of the tradition depending on the deity, it might involve for some initiates the wearing of colors of red and white (sacred to some Mami Wata's deities) and dancing until seized by their particular deity, popularly known as spiritual possession. For more on these water spirits, see this author's tale "Mami Wata" published in his anthology of short stories Lion Man and Other Stories, (2006).
6.Mapouata jumped toward the nearest flame to burn the sacred emblem....Enthusiastic applause acknowledged his exploits.
What a woman wants, the spirits of the ancestors would tolerate with eyes closed.
About the reviewer
Dr. Peter Vakunta is professor at the Unites States Department of Defense Language Institute in California
Reviewer: Peter Wuteh Vakunta,PhD
Malonga's La légende de M' Pfmoumou Ma Mazono (1954) is written in the form of a novel grafted on a folktale. The major theme of Malonga's text is the portrayal of a well-organized traditional African society in a colonial set-up. The protagonist Bitouala symbolizes change in the society that Malonga describes. From very humble beginnings (his mother is an outlaw who runs away from her community after being caught cheating on her husband), Ma Mazono succeeds in effecting revolutionary changes in his community. For example, he abolishes slavery and replaces it with an egalitarian system based on merit and hard work. Malonga paints a fascinating picture of cultural change in his novel.
As in most African legendary tales, Malonga evokes surrealism as a thematic detail in his text. For instance, when Bitouala is about to ask for Hakoula's hand in marriage, the narrator bursts into some sort of incantation, as if to invoke the spirits of the ancestors. At the time when Bitouala is about to present the "mouanga-loumbou", the symbol of betrothal, to Hakoula, the narrator intunes a chant: "Oh mystérieux amour, inexplicable Amant qui fait balloter en épave la sensible nature, terrible inconnu qui dompte les plus belles, amour indéfinissable à l'entendement physique, pourquoi tiens-tu enfermés sous ton manteau bleu-rose deux coeurs qui se sentent irréstiblement attirés l'un vers l'autre? Pourquoi fais-tu agiter de frayeur, comme un roseau, ce fier épervier prêt à voler vers son pôle positif? (22)
Legends, it must be remembered, often border on the supernatural. This is the reason why Malonga's protagonist is endowed with the ability to fly. He is also compared to a "sparrow hawk" and his love for Hakoula is akin to a fiery sentiment strong enough to tame the most rebellious mind. The novelist takes his readers on a hike into a world of the absurd, for absurdity is indeed part and parcel of the surreal. For example, the narrator tells the reader that as Bidounga, the village chief, brings out his daughter to be officially given away in marriage, he refrains from eating; he only feeds on kola nuts and drinks the juice of a sacred plant. This "fasting" ritual enables him to communicate spiritually with the spirits of his ancestors. He is said to be sitting on a panther's skin which becomes the medium through which he communicates with his forebears. Once Hakoula gets into the magic circle, she is initiated and becomes the priestess of the clan: "Le recouvrant alors du tapis rouge, le père remet les insignes du pouvoir spirituels à son enfant et lui glisse à l'oreille quelques mots dont le secret sera gardé envers tout le monde. La novice passe ensuite à trois reprises entre les jambes écartées du père, puis assenant d'un coup sonore le gong de la famille, elle dit: 'Mânes de N'Tsoundi, prouvez aujourd'hui que je suis de votre maison. Obéissez à ma voix, exécutez mes ordres'"(33).
What follows this rite of passage is a true test of the supernatural powers bestowed on Hakoula: a herd of crocodiles stood in a line across the river permitting her and her family to cross safely. The narrator reacts in anticipation of what he imagines would be the disbelief of an incredulous reader: "Doutez! Lecteurs si vous voulez, mais pour les spectateurs oculaires ayant vécu le fait, leur condition est absolue" (35). Malonga's narrative lends credibility to the claim that magical realism is an integral part of African oral literature. The initiation rites portrayed in this novel are clearly inspired by belief in the supernatural, notably the magical powers with which the Bakongo are endowed. These invisible forces prepare Hakoula for the task that lies ahead.
Malonga translates the folklore of his people into a written text. A good example is the song titled "Bouloungou de N'kongo" that Hakoula sings in a bid to make the totemic crocodiles line up and form a bridge across the river. The song is dedicated to the water gods, the Boloungo, or mami-wata.Malonga alludes to the presence of a live audience when he writes: "Mapouata a bondi vers le flambeau le plus proche pour y brûler l'emblème sacré .... Des ovations enthousiastes ont honoré l'expoit" (135).The fact that the audience is said to have applauded underscores the importance Malonga attaches to the presence of a live, participating audience in his narrative.
In sum, this is a work of literature written by a virtuoso. The thing that I find absent from Malonga's narrative is imagery. Unlike his peers who embellish literary works with rhetorical devices, Malonga refrains from using narrative devices, namely metaphors, similes and aphorisms. However, this lacuna does not do disservice to his narrative given that he resorts to proverbial expressions for communicative effect. For instance, he uses the following expression to depict Hakoula's love for N'Dzingoula: "Ce que femme veut, les Mânes le tolèrent en fermant les yeux" (39).Moreover, the writer succeeds in adding local color and flavor to his story by inscribing the vernacular names of real people and places (e.g., Bitouala, Hakoula, Mapouta, N'Tsoundi, etc,) into his narrative.
It is regrettable that critics like Blair fault Malonga for producing a second-rate novel by attempting to fuse too many traditional verbal art forms into his text. She argues:"In trying to superimpose a collage of a moral tale of sin and redemption, a philosophical account of a Utopian state, a romance of sensual and ideal love, on a background of traditional folklore, with its mystic and supernatural elements, Malonga has tried to fuse too many genres and has prejudiced his success in any(71).This sort comment from a literary critic who is clearly unaware of the close relationship between the contemporary African novel and the oral tale does lend credibility to the contention that Western critics of African literature suffer from epistemological anorexia. La légende de M' Pfmoumou Ma Mazono is a well written novel that should be read with gusto. It is a must read for students of francophone African literature.
Notes
1.Oh mysterious Love, unexplainable Lover who rolls sensitive nature around in flotsam and jetsam; love, this terribly Unknown thing which tames the most rebellious, indefinable Love to physical understanding, why do you keep enclosed under your bluish pink coat, two hearts which feel irresistibly attracted to each other? Why do you make this proud sparrow hawk ready to fly toward its positive pole, shiver with fear? ]
2.Kola nut (cola) is a genus of about 125 species of trees native to the tropical rainforests of Africa. The kola nut has a bitter flavor and contains caffeine. It is chewed in many African cultures, individually or in a group setting. It is often used ceremonially, presented to tribal chiefs and to visitors. Chewing kola nut can ease hunger pangs. Kola nuts are used mainly for their stimulant and euphoriant qualities. They have stimulant effects on the central nervous system and heart. They enhance alertness and physical energy, elevate mood, increase tactile sensitivity and suppress appetite. It is used in most parts of Africa as an aphrodisiac and as a component of the traditional bride price. For more on the ceremonial functions of the kola nut, see Chinua Achebe's Things Fall Apart (1958) and this author's poem "Kola Nut" in his poetic anthology titled Green Rape (2008).
3.Then picking her up from the red carpet, the father gives back the insignias of spiritual power to his child and whispers in her ears a few words whose secret will be kept from everybody. The novice then passes there times under the open legs of her father, then hitting the family gong hard, she says: "Spirits of N'Tsoundi prove today that I am of your house. Obey my voice, carry out my orders.
4.Doubt it! Readers, if you like, but for eye-witnesses who saw it, their belief is absolute.
5.Mami Wata refers to mermaid-like figures, which are believed to have a woman's upper body (often nude) and the hindquarters of a serpent. These water spirits flaunt their unimaginable wealth that binds those who view them. Mami Wata may also manifest in a number of other forms. Mami Wata is represented in many different African religious systems, such as the vodou in Benin and Togo, and Southern Ghana, where there exists an actual consecration body of lineal priests and priestesses of the Ewe, Ando-Ewe, Mina, Kabye and other African ethnic groups , whose worship of ancient deities predates their arrival in their present locations. Mami Wata deities are closely associated with water. Mami Wata tradition is strongly associated with all matters involving spiritual and psychic phenomena, including divination and spiritual healing. Worship practices for these deities vary, but in some branches of the tradition depending on the deity, it might involve for some initiates the wearing of colors of red and white (sacred to some Mami Wata's deities) and dancing until seized by their particular deity, popularly known as spiritual possession. For more on these water spirits, see this author's tale "Mami Wata" published in his anthology of short stories Lion Man and Other Stories, (2006).
6.Mapouata jumped toward the nearest flame to burn the sacred emblem....Enthusiastic applause acknowledged his exploits.
What a woman wants, the spirits of the ancestors would tolerate with eyes closed.
About the reviewer
Dr. Peter Vakunta is professor at the Unites States Department of Defense Language Institute in California
Book Review: Crépuscule de temps anciens
Reviewer: Dr. Peter Wuteh Vakunta
Crépuscule de temps anciens is a classic example of a contemporary African novel that blends orality
with the written word. Various forms of verbal arts, including chants, are used
by Boni as anchorage for his writing. It is perhaps for this very reason that
his work has been described as a kind of oral palimpsest (Koné, 1985). The key
element in oralization is the simulation of spoken discourse. As Koné points
out:
Ce qui est remarquable dans le système de
narration de Crépuscule de temps anciens, c’est qu’à côté d’un narrateur
principal extra-diégétique, apparaissent de nombreux autres narrateurs,
délégués et que ces narrateurs sont précisément des détenteurs des paroles
artistiques traditionnelles. (29)
[What is remarkable about the narrative
technique in Crépuscule de temps anciens is the fact that
beside the central narrator there are numerous other narrators who are
custodians of traditional oral speech.]
The “Ancêtre du village” (village
Ancestor) is the major symbol of oral communication in this novel. It is he who
commences the narration with a legendary tale of the history of the Bwamu: “Il
y a, dit “l’Ancêtre”, de cela environ trois cents ans moins vingt, le Bwamu
jouissait d’un riche trésor de mystères et de magies, d’effables délices qui
déteignirent sur les aïeux des grand-pères de pères de nos pères” (21). [Says
the “Ancestor”, about three hundred minus twenty years ago, the Bwamu enjoyed a
rich treasure of mystery and magic, ineffable delights which influenced the
great-grand parents of the parents of the fathers of our fathers]. In this
passage, Boni fictionalizes the history of his people through the oral
discourse of the village Ancestor. By doing so, he shows pride in the oral
traditions of his people. Beside the village Ancestor, there are minor
narrators such as Gnïnlé who tells the Bwamu hunters’s tales: “Le grand chasseur Gnïnlé,
homonyme du dieu de la Nature, dévoilait à qui voulait l’entendre, les mystères
de la forêt dont il connaissait, en même temps que les habitants, les coins et
les recoins” (176).[The great
hunter Gnïnlé, homonym of God of Nature, narrated to whoever was interested in
listening, the mysteries of the forest whose inhabitants, and nooks and crannies
he knew very well.] Well versed in Bwamu oral traditions, Gnïnlé explains the
significance of family totems—animals regarded as sacred because they represent
the spirit of the ancestors. The importance of orality is stressed in the novel
through the roles played by these masters of the word.
Book
Review: Harold Scheub’s The Uncoiling
Python: South African Storytellers and Resistance. Athens: Ohio University
Press. 2010.240 pp. Paper Back
$24.95. ISBN 978-0-8214-1922-9
Peter
Wuteh Vakunta, Reviewer
Unlike
some of his unimaginative peers who collect African folklore in order to
imprison it, thus delimiting its potential implacability to literary thought,
Harold Scheub takes cognizance of the fact that the import of collection is to
make possible interpretation, which expands on the possibilities inherent in
the primary (oral) texts themselves. My fascination with oral literature led me
to the reading of Scheub’s recent publication on oral tales from South Africa.
This book can be seen as a scholarly return to the relationship between
folklore and literary criticism. Using oral tales culled from the corpus of
orature originating from various ethnic groups in South Africa (San (Bushmen),
Zulu, Nguni, Swati, and Xhosa), Scheub establishes a continuum between oral
traditions and contemporary African literature.
He
starts off by underscoring the insuperable challenges that transcribers of oral
traditions may face in the task of translating orality into the written word: “The
problems for the translator of oral materials into the written form are
enormous, some of them insurmountable except by extensive multimedia
productions, and even then the impact of the original performance is
diminished”(116). Scheub furthers points out that the task of developing
literary correspondence for oral non-verbal artistic techniques are staggering,
the more so because the translation of a single narrative performance involves
profound transformations from the oral form to the written word.
He notes that the transcriber of oral
traditions must not only be aware of the images developed on the surface of the
story but also be sensitive to their poetic use and to the metaphorical nature
of the oral narratives. Better yet, the
transcriber must be sensitive to the aesthetic principles that guide the
creation of the work, for as Scheub would have it “what might appear on the
written page as an awkwardly conceived-of fragmented story may not be so
regarded during its actual performance” (118). In short, what initially appears
as simply a matter of verbal equivalence may actually be that unique
metaphorical language that the unwary translator mistranslates all too often.
Talking of metaphorical usage of language in African folklore, Scheub resorts
to the trope of ‘the uncoiling python’ to adumbrate some key points in African
folklore.
Conclusion
Written with joie de vivre,
reveling both in interpretation and communication, littered with wonderful
parallelisms, Scheub’s new book offers
any reader new lenses through which to understand and appreciate African oral
literature. It is undoubtedly a fascinating book to read.
