Oral Literature in Africa (54 page)

2
   ‘Motifs’ include plots, subject-matter, types of character and action, etc. A fairly wide definition is taken of ‘folk literature’ to cover folktales, myths, ballads, fables, medieval romances, fabliaux, exempla, local traditions, but not riddles or proverbs. Some African material is included. Similar works primarily concerned with Africa (though conceived on a much smaller scale) include Herskovits 1936; Klipple 1938; Clarke 1958; see also references in Ch. 2, p. 39, also for collections with comparative material along these lines, Lindblom 1928 vols. 1–2 and Von Sicard 1965.

3
   K 22 in Thompson’s classification (Thompson 1955). A full comparative treatment of this motif using the historical-geographical method is given in Mofokeng 1955.

4
   See Mofokeng 1955, following up the D.Litt. thesis by S. C. H. Rautenbach 1949 (not seen; reference in Mofokeng 1955). Unfortunately most of this detailed analysis of African material by scholars working at the University of Witwatersrand apparently remains as yet unpublished.

5
   Suri, one of the listeners, repeats the name.

6
   A very long, red, and spotted fatal snake.

7
   The wife has the responsibility of growing or gathering the vegetables for the ‘sauce.’

8
   Recorded on tape from the Limba narrator (Karanke Dema) in February 1964, and published (in translation) in Finnegan 1967: 367–70.

9
   Though he himself was not trying to establish a typology.

10
  See e.g. Stappers 1962: 14–15 (Luba); Theal 1886: vii-viii (Xhosa); Finnegan 1967: 28–31 (Limba); Evans-Pritchard 1967: 32ff (Azande); Junod ii 1913: 198ff (Thonga).

11
  Who have in the past been naturally more interested in the provision of texts for grammatical and syntactical analysis than in the variations of the spoken versions

12
  See Ch. 13 for some further discussion of the applicability of the term ‘myth’ to African narratives.

13
  Beidelman 1961; also a series of other articles on similar lines by the same author.

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. Conclusion
.

Against this background of earlier theoretical speculations and misunderstandings, we can now survey the present position in the study of oral prose narration in Africa. What points have been established so far? And what aspects now need further investigation?

I

First, the basic material. Of actual texts, synopses, and translations of African narratives we have a vast amount. Bascom, in his indispensable survey (Bascom 1964), lists forty-one peoples for whom collections of fifty or more tales with vernacular texts had been published by 1964. He adds a further list of forty-nine groups for which collections of at least fifty tales have appeared in translation (with fewer African texts), and further collections are appearing-all the time.
¹

These collections are of very variable quality. It is often not made clear how they were recorded—on tape, from dictation, by the tellers themselves, or even written by hired schoolboys who are often unskilled in the local arts of story-telling and certainly not experienced in the near impossible task of transforming the oral art form into the medium of the written word. The resulting texts are often little more than abstracts or summaries of the plots—a perfectly adequate source when all one wants to consider is the origin of the plot or its relevance for social structure or education, but clearly quite inadequate for analysis in depth. When only translations are given, there are additional difficulties. The problems involved in any translation, let alone from a totally unfamiliar culture, are of course notorious—not that this has deterred some collectors from going through a double process of translation prior to the publication of their collections.
²
But quite apart from this there is the added point that when none of the original texts is provided it is not possible even for someone who knows the language to check the basic trustworthiness of the translation 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. What is really needed by now is less emphasis on collecting more and more 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 of the continent.
³
This includes similarity in plots, in motifs, and to some extent in characters. Only a few instances can be quoted, but these can be followed up in general works on African stories.
⁴

As far as the outline of the plot goes, many of the resemblances are striking. Beyond this, however, there are many differences both of detail and of general treatment. Thus one of the most common plots is the tug of war into which a small animal induces two larger ones to enter in the belief that they are pulling against him. The small animal involved, however, is not
everywhere the same. It may be—to mention only a few instances—a hare (e.g. Ila, Shona, Bemba, and many other peoples of Central Africa), a spider (Limba, Temne, and others in parts of West Africa), a mouse (Tetela in Congo), a tortoise, (Mpongwe and others in West Equatorial Africa and coastal areas of West Africa), or, in the related American version, Brer Rabbit. The two large animals who are tricked are most commonly an elephant and a hippopotamus, but a rhinoceros is also sometimes mentioned. 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 of the truth of the story, and leaves or kills him there. Among 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 wily character who foils the aggressor—a jackal, hare, pygmy antelope, or spider.
⁵
Similar points could be made with many other plots, by no means all of them to do with animals. There is the story also familiar from the
Arabian Nights:
three men co-operate to revive the girl they all love, each with magic objects to help them; in the various versions these include, for instance, a casket of dreams, a mirror, or a telescope to see her danger from afar; a magic arrow, a skin, or a hammock to travel instantly to her side; and a snuffbox, switch, or magic medicine to bring her back to life.
⁶
Again, there are the many tales about the origin of death that centre round the message sent by God endowing mankind with life, the right messenger being superseded or outstripped, and a second messenger bringing the wrong message—that of death. But the actual messengers named, the title of God, and even the exact framework take different forms in different areas.
⁷
Another common a build-up story in that the hero, sometimes a young boy, sometimes an animal, gradually acquires more and more valuable objects by, say, trading, exchange, or refusal to fight unless given his wish. Finally he reaches the pinnacle of any man’s desires, in some versions followed by the anti-climax of losing the precious object and being back where he started.
⁸

Rather than prolonging this list indefinitely, two versions of the ‘same’ plot may be quoted to illustrate how much they may in fact differ in tone and character even when the subject-matter seems very close. The plot offers explanations for the way birds of prey swoop down and carry off chickens from the mother hen. According 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 Kikuyu of East Africa, recorded by Cagnolo who had spent many years in the area.

The Vulture and the Hen

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 of borrowing a razor from the vulture, to shave the little ones. The shaving was already much overdue, but it couldn’t 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. My little ones are looking very ugly, and also very untidy, with their long unkempt hair overgrown.’

The 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 of that razor; that is to say, that razor is my field, whence I get my daily food. I do not 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. I’ll 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 little 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 corner of 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 resented 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. The hen rushed into the hut to fetch the razor. She plunged her hand into the leather bag, but alas! 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 children’s bed, near the fire stones, in the store; but there was no sign of it. Tired and defeated, she came out and, imploring, said: ‘O dear friend and master, I can’t 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 rabble of 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 of 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.

‘I am very sorry, dear hen,’ 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

(Cagnolo 1953: 129–31).

The second instance is one of the stories I recorded among the Limba of Sierra Leone.
⁹

The Finch, the Eagle, and the Hen

The finch, a small bird, once borrowed money from the eagle’s grandfather. 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? He’s the one I’m looking for. He made use of my father’s property. I want him to return it ….
¹⁰
Do you think I will be able to find the finch?’

‘Yes, you can find him.’

‘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.’
¹¹

The 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.

‘Ah! 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?’

‘Yes?’

‘Who told you where I was?’

‘The hen.’

‘It was the hen that told you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Oh! dear!’ (said the finch) ‘We 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 me! Since the hen was the reason you found me, that’s why I am going to give her to you now.’

(The eagle did not believe the finch.)
¹²

‘Haven’t you seen my house (then)?’

He (still) did not believe.

‘Eagle’ (said the finch).

‘Yes?’

‘Come on.’

They 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 can’t find any leaves there, can you, only feathers.’
¹³

When they got there the eagle went and looked. He saw the hen’s 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.
¹⁴

The difference between the two stories is more than merely a matter of translator’s style. Both tales give an aetiological explanation of the present misfortunes of chickens and trace this back to a debt (or alleged debt) by the hen; but the framework, the detailed course of the plot, even the implied evaluations of the characters are very different. The subject-matter and literary structure of each story can only be fully appreciated (as distinct from appearing as a catalogue item) with a detailed knowledge of the social and literary experience from which it springs. Indeed, the treatment and impact of stories based on the ‘same’ plot or motif can vary considerably, even in the same society, if told by a different individual or even, in some cases, by the same individual on different occasions.
¹⁵
All this, too, is not to mention the aspect of actual performance which, it is worth repeating, cannot come across at all in a written version, but may appear on the actual occasion of telling as the most noticeable distinguishing characteristic of the story.