Griots

Griots hold the memory and history of a community. They are the storytellers, musicians and singers of songs of praise. They are the archives. They are the historians. They speak the history of our people. They are our oral historians.

Growing up in Gambia in the eighties, I have vivid memories of listening to the songs and poetry of Griots as they sang with melodic voices. I recall their nimble fingers plucking the cords of a Kora as they chorused with emotion. I was fascinated by the scale and power of their presence and performance, compounded by their Grand Buba outfits, one of our traditional garments comprising a long shirt made of reams of material gathered up and draped over the shoulders, with trousers and a matching hat. The Griot would balance what from my vantage point as a small child appeared to be a huge Kora, longer than their torso. They would then masterfully weave their fingers up and down the cords to attentive ears. Griots commanded the respect of the people and occupied the same space as the head of the family, community leaders, noblemen and dignitaries.

Gambia, Senegal and Mali are three countries located next to each other in the West of Africa, and home to the descendants of the Mende people, who are considered one of the earliest civilisations in the region. The Mende were responsible for the formation of many empires including the Ghana (not to be confused with the country Ghana) and Songhay Empires. Prior to European colonisation in West Africa, the three countries formed part of the illustrious Malian empire from 1230 to 1630. Founded by Sundiata Keita, it boasted immense wealth and culture that flowed outward to impact the West African region and beyond. Hugely prosperous, it covered a considerable stretch, spanning current-day Senegal, Gambia, Guinea, Niger, Nigeria, Chad, and Mauritania, including Mali. 

The renowned King Mansa Musa ruled the Malian Empire during the fourteenth  century and has been named in historic records as the richest person in history, and by moderate accounts his wealth is estimated to be roughly around $400 billion at the time of his death. Nonetheless, it is almost impossible to quantify Mansa Musa’s vast riches during his lifetime. Scholars maintain that his wealth is unmatched by any other figure in history. As a devout Muslim, during his pilgrimage to Mecca to perform Hajj, Musa is reputed to have travelled with a caravan that included ‘tens of thousands of soldiers, slaves and heralds, draped in Persian silk and carrying golden staffs’. Upon passing through Egypt, Musa littered the streets, cities and villages in Egypt with so much gold, that the precious metal, once in short supply, dramatically depreciated in value, plunging the Egyptian economy into recession for almost 12 years. 

It was under Musa’s rule that the great Mosque of Timbuktu, locally referred to as Djinguerereber or Djingareyber, was built in 1327. Musa paid the architect Abu Es Haq es Saheil 200kg of gold dust (40,000 mithqals of gold). Such was the grandeur and spectacle that accompanied Musa’s reign, that by the late fourteenth century, he was featured on the 1375 Catalan Atlas. The Atlas was an important resource for navigators and showed a towering Musa, planted on a golden stool, adorned with a gold crown and sceptre, whilst balancing in in his palm a gold nugget. The splendour and unrestrained opulence, with which the Spanish cartographer Abraham Cresques, the author of the Catalan Altas depicts Musa, goes to show the awe and bewilderment of European travellers upon learning of this great African King. 

Word of King Musa’s great riches spread far and wide and not long after his death the mission to colonise Africa began. In the fifteenth century the Portuguese were the first to arrive, followed by the French and then the British, in search of the West African Eldorado. During the colonisation of Africa, the region, was carved out like an a la carte menu, into Gambia, Senegal and Mali. Senegal gained its independence from the French on 4 April 1960, Mali from the French on 20 June 1960, and The Gambia from the British on 18 February 1965. 

Despite the violent and brutal period of colonisation and the cruel exploitation of the wealth of the continent; the fracturing of Mende society and culture; and the enslavement of the healthy and strong, the resilient culture of the people endured, through the tradition of the Griot. Thus, the Griot served as a vital force for the preservation of history and culture, located at the very heart of the community. 

The practice of Griot spans over seven centuries. Throughout this period of time, Griots have been tasked with recounting the lineage of families and histories of communities. They are genealogists keeping record of births, deaths, marriages and notable cultural practices of a community. They compose and sing songs of reverence and adoration, sorrow and pain and are often called on during significant occasions in the community. They recount the stories of great heroes, kings and queens and of victorious battles. 

Traditionally born into families that have been Griots for many generations, they carry the responsibility of committing to memory the records and history of a community. This knowledge is passed down through family members and although usually male, there are many females today practising the art of Griot known as Griottes. Given the huge volume of information that Griot must commit to memory,  training starts at a young age. Immersion in verbal storytelling, training in playing musical instruments and familiarising themselves with the arts and culture of the community begins at a young age. Students spend their time travelling and listening to Master Griots to hone their skills as well as spending precious hours practicing in order to excel at the art form. They are masterful orators and musicians skilled in weaving together stories and songs of emotion, power and history. 

Voice has played a critical role in storytelling in many cultures but particularly in the Griot tradition where voice and words are used to impart knowledge and wisdom. Orature as described by Ngugi wa Thiong’o, a writer from Kenya, is the use of utterance as an aesthetic means of expression, requiring no validation from the literary. The language of the Griot is the language of their people with songs sung in the language of the cultural group to which they belong. In this way, communication in native tongue rather than the language of the coloniser has enabled Griots to serve an important function in the preservation of language and identity before, during, and after the colonisation of Africa. 

Seckou Keita is a Senegalese musician born and trained in a Griot family. He describes it as his ‘responsibility as a member of my family to pass on what I was taught so that our stories may never be lost or forgotten. The most beautiful thing about our music is that you don’t need to understand the words in order to understand the language of a song. Some songs are sung from the belly and some from the heart or head. Meaning comes with the feeling that the voice and the music create together’.

Besides the voice, the instruments of a Griot are the kora, balafon and ngoni. The kora belongs to the harp family, emitting sound through the plucking of strings. Made out of a large calabash that has been cut in half and covered with the skin of a cow, a long wooden neck is then added to support the 21-string instrument. The balafon originates from Mali and is a long xylophone that can consist of over 16 keys. Similar to a Kora, the Ngoni is an instrument that is made from a Calabash with animal skin stretched over it and consists of a single string. Other versions of the Ngoni have included the six-string Dondo Ngoni that was reported to be played in Gambia as early as the 1620s. 

West African music has its own unique sound and energy that has come from our use of rhythmic instruments like the djembe drum. Djembe drums belong to the Mande tribe, originating from Gambia, Senegal, Cote d’Ivoire and most of the other countries in the region. The djembe forms the bass line and rhythms that create the West African sound. Djembe’s are made from one piece of wood with the skin stretched on top. Djembe drummers are notorious for their strong hard hands due to the force and pace with which they beat the drums to signal their presence as the heart of any occasion or performance. 

Sabar is also a very popular instrument. A small drum, it is played with a stick and a single hand and is linked to a form of music in Senegal known as Mbalax. It is accompanied by one of the most vibrant forms of dance I have witnessed in Africa with use of one’s entire body, arms, legs, hips… everything, down to facial expression. It requires the lifting of the legs in circular motions, accompanied by the swaying of the arms to create movements that resemble trees in the midst of a gust of wind. There is an interplay and flirtation with the drummer punctuated by exaggerated gyration of the hips and groin. 

One of my personal favourite instruments is the talking drum, also known as the Tama. Small enough to be placed under the arm, the drummer beats it with one hand and a stick. The Tama is often used to punctuate sentences, show approval and converse with other drums present. It has its own unique character with pitches that can go from very high to low with rapid speed and placement of the stick and hands. The Tama has the ability to convey the emotion of the player and the people, generating laughter, dance and understanding. Another percussion instrument frequently used is the Dunun, a group of bass drums. The drum takes the shape of a cylinder with two heads - one on either side. Played on its side at both ends or placed on the floor and played from one end. 

These instruments all form the basis of what is a very distinctive West African sound. Often described as being polyrhythmic, since it features two or more conflicting rhythms that are layered to form discordant yet congenial melodies.

Over the years, Griot men and women have been able to take their music from the community to international stages, sharing the art form and cultural practice. Artists like Sona Jobarteh born into one of the main Griot families in Gambia has found fame as a professional musician playing the Kora and other stringed instruments to audiences around the world. Her music is a fusion of the new and the old, sharing the beauty of traditional sounds whilst bringing a fresh perspective and interpretation of style. Baaba Mall, Youssou N’Dour and Amadou and Mariam have found mainstream success with their music reaching global audiences. They have been nominated for prestigious awards and can be heard on film scores like the Marvel movie Black Panther. 

In recent times there has been increased flexibility with the opportunity for those not born into Griot families to undertake the training given to Griots and perform to audiences. The non-hereditary tenor of Griot practice today is a sign of shifting times as Griot music and sounds move more towards the mainstream, becoming increasingly accessible to new audiences. Schools have opened in West Africa, US and Europe to teach the skill and some of the repertoire of Griot music. 

Outside of the practice of Griot storytelling, oral traditions play a big part in Senegambian families. I have often sat through aunts, uncles and grandparents recounting the complex connection of Aunty this, to cousin that, who married cousin that, and had cousin other, who then lived with Uncle that and had children with so and so, who is now living in xyz… Despite eventually being totally confused and none the wiser as to how I am connected to these individuals, I enjoy the opportunity to listen to them and revel in their ability to educate me on who we are, and where we come from, and their pride in occupying the role of living archive. I also enjoy their slight frustration and annoyance that this information is not already stored somewhere in my bank of knowledge. The relationship then becomes one of teacher and student. 

Beyond stories of our lineage there are often folktales, proverbs and sayings that Griots deliver with almost comic expectation and timing. Sayings like: 

Way u nyams white, cover am - when things are going well for you keep quiet don’t go around publicising it.

Okra shall never long pass im master - however big you are, however tall you are, however old you are you can never be wiser than your mother because she will always have more wisdom than you.

Dat water wey na for you e no go run pass you – what God has destined for you nobody can take it away.

Truckey wan box, e hand no reach – you want to achieve or do something but do not have the means or cannot afford it.

 I dey take yeye ker you go - I’m guiding you where you go, my eyes are on you to guide and protect you wherever you go.

 

These sayings are passed from one generation to the next and have stood the test of time and transcended geographical location. Hearing and understanding sayings like this from my family, from childhood to present day, I have been able to retain close links to my culture and identity despite being part of the global community of Africans living in the diaspora. These oral traditions have enabled me to be firmly rooted in my identity as a Serer, Wolof, Gambian woman. 

Storytelling calls for more than just words. Facial expressions, physical movements and gestures all form part of the story captivating the listener. Weaved into these oral traditions is the art of performance that is often used for the delivery of stories with impact. Storytelling is a method of cultural preservation that has long existed in our communities. Although there are records of written text from West Africa prior to colonisation, storytelling and oral traditions have far outweighed written text as a way to pass knowledge from one generation to the next. Much of West Africa’s written history was in Arabic but with the violent disruption of colonialism, the ability of Africans to write our own narrative was abruptly interrupted. Thankfully, over time this has begun to shift with the success of writers like Chinua Achebe and Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. These writers paint a picture of African life through African words and stories that resonate with both those on the continent and outside of it. They provide a space and opportunity for recognition of the value of our culture and the universal nature of the human experience despite differences in upbringing and location. That said, the written word cannot be a substitute for oral traditions or orature. Invariably, it fails to capture the spontaneity and magic of storytelling. 

It will be remiss of me not to recount the great epic of Sunjata, the founder of the great ancient Mali Empire. A wondrous sight to behold is that of the Griot as he seductively strings the travails of Sunjata. With his kora delicately balanced between his legs he sends his audience in the stupor of time, to a distant land. At the stroke of a hunter’s prophesy, King Maghan begot a son on Sogolon, his name was Sunjata. Sogolon, was known as the ‘Buffalo woman’ for she was bereft of any redeeming qualities. Legend has it that she was a hunchback with monstrous eyes. Born crippled, Sunjata took after his mother in his grotesque bearing. His head was unusually large, which he could barely support with his scrawny neck. For seven years, he did not walk nor speak. With fiery round savage eyes, he crawled on all fours like a man cub. The crowd chimes in laughter. A woman interjects, tell it well, he was handsome, another groans, devilry! It is true he was not of this world. The timbres of the kora painfully shriek a change in chord, the Griot howls, darkness cast a long shadow over the land of the Mende. For seven years the teats of the earth mother run dried, whilst hunger and drought feasted on the living. King Maghan laid on his sick bed with the prophesy of the hunter throbbing in his heart. He called his son to his bedside, and gently stroked the tears of his lurid eyes and said, ‘take heart, be not afraid, when I go, you will be king. You are destined for greatness, my boy!’ Taking his last breath Maghan parted with the living to meet the ancestors. 

Upon learning of the dead King’s wish, Maghan’s first wife Sassouma set out to make her son Dankaran King. Messengers, concubines, slaves and servants were assembled and dispatched across the land to spread vicious rumours about Sunjata and Sogolon.  Some said that since birth the boy drew strength by feasting on his father’s blood. Others claimed that at the rise of the full moon the dark lord exposed himself to Sogolon, caressing her in a naked embrace. And so, they believed that is how Sunjata was born. Stricken by fear, the people were unsettled. The council of elders nod in confusion but agreed that they only way to avoid unrest and save the land from eternal doom was to make Dankaran King. 

The Kora weeps, the days that followed were dark, indeed, sings the Griot. Mother and Child were banished to a foreign land. Misery and grief overcame Sogolon that one day she said to her son, ‘Sunjata, you’re are destined for greatness, but I am worried about your future. You are a strong boy and have a great heart, but your legs have allowed Sassouma to take control.  We cannot let Dankaran be chief - it is against your father’s wishes!’ Hearing the pain in his mother’s words, Sunjata grabbed a branch from the S’ra tree, an African baobab or Adansonian tree. With courage and great determination he pulled himself up and started to walk. The crowd cheered in applause. Oh! A man shakes his head, muttering, ‘Nobody knows the beginning of a great man’. The kora rumbles a velvety blues, the tempo cuts and swings, interlacing the griots drawl. 

Sunjata grew to be a strong hunter, known for his athletic feats and bravery. By then he had gained many admirers, all spoke well of him. He had shed of his ugly looks to emerge as a handsome man, with a regal mien and sagacious disposition. The Kingdom of the Mandinka, however had fallen under the spell of an evil sorcerer, Soumaoro. Soumaoro ousted King Dankaran and enslaved half the population. He even displayed the skins and skulls of his enemies as treasures in his chamber. Hearing this from an eyewitness, Sunjata was reminded of the prophesy his father told him on his sick bed. He sought the advice of an old friend, Balle Fasseke, who revealed to him that Soumaoro can only be defeated with a magical arrow. Balle Fasseke for years had known of the coming of the evil sorcerer through the vision of the gods. Forty nights and days he laboured in the gorges of the gods, forging a magical arrow for the young warrior. Wasting no time Sunjata raised an army to face Soumaoro. 

The battle was long and arduous, with no side gaining the advantage. For months Sunjata advanced on his enemy with no avail since he could not breach their defence. Suomaoro had fortified the walls of the city with a protective charm. Taking advantage of the restless mood and declining morale within his men, Suomaoro lead a deadly assault, slaughtering half of Sunjata’s army. Victory still remained hidden out of sight. With great forbearance and patience, Sunjata spotted a weakness in his opponents’ tactics. On the next assault, he rode from rear flank of the cavalry allowing his men to engage Soumaoro’s close bodyguards, leaving him open for attack. Sunjata charging his horse at his enemy at a greater pace shot his arrow directly through the aperture of clashing swords and bodies making a fatal contact with Suomaoro, who suddenly fell of his horse with dread in his eyes. In fear of his life, his men quickly formed a human shield around him allowing the wicked wizard to flee the battle, never to be seen again. For his bravery in battle, Sunjata was finally crowned King, winning the loyalty of his people and fulfilling the hunter’s prophesy. They called him the Lion King of Mali because of his strength and courage. He was also given the title Mansa meaning King of Kings, becoming the first ruler of the Malian Empire. His reign was long and prosperous, and he became one the greatest King ever to rule the kingdom of Mali. The Griot’s voice shrills a jubilant call ‘Sunjata the Great’. The people respond, ‘truly he was great’. The Kora sonorously meanders, assembling together intricate melodies of a thousand syncopated turns. The Griot drives the recitation to a close, tenderly plucking the strings to a final whisper. ‘Allah is Great!’, he chants.  

It was during the reign of Sunjata, in the 1300s, that Mali first became an important economic and agricultural force amongst the West African Empires. Some academics have compared Sunjata’s exploits to that of Alexander the Great. It is believed that Walt Disney’s 1994 animation The Lion King was inspired by the story of Sunjata, although the Disney corporation cites Shakespeare’s Hamlet as its source material. Yet the closeness of narrative, events and themes between The Lion King and Sunjata, also referred to in Mende legend as the Lion King, cannot be overstressed.

Each Griot tells the story differently but must remain faithful to the overarching narrative: order of events, name of characters and other details that are traditionally considered to be the bare facts. Improvisation in the playing of the recitation is also encouraged. The audience are at liberty to interrupt, to correct, or challenge the Griot or even include their version of events, views and opinions. As such the Griot must have a meticulous memory and eloquence to avoid their displeasure. In a way both the Griot and audience participate in the creating and shaping of the story. This form of cultural production, namely orature, contrast remarkably from literature. It is neither alienated from its audience nor crafted by an isolated detached writer, embedded within impersonal relations of production. Instead it is a product of the community, part of its identity, where it emerged and will be persevered through the handing down of the tradition from one generation to the other. It defies time, though limited to temporal existence but not in the linear or historical sense. Unlike, a complete and immutable body of work, each time the story is told it is instantiated in the now, bound to the context in which it is produced. 

However, as we move further into the digital age the challenge that we face as Africans with long and rich histories, is how best to preserve our culture and ensure that traditional practices like having a Griot in the community retain their importance and prominence. I was recently challenged by a Gambian filmmaker to question the manner in which we as Africans create archives of our history or rather the lack of archiving that exists. Some weeks later the same question was posed by an Angolan musician on a mission to create an archive of the sounds and rhythms of Angola. These conversations prompted me to think about the rich archives that exist in the minds of our Griots and to question the sustainability of the practice as the technological boom continues to sweep across Africa reaching young minds far and wide. Is our culture and heritage strong enough to continue the legacy of Griot? 

Much of our African history has been lost or relies on the telling and retelling of stories orally. This is subject to adaptation and embellishment, therefore the sooner we recognise Griots as repositories of knowledge and holders of our archives, the more imperative it seems to adapt their practice to modern modes of preservation. Though remaining faithful to the tradition of indigenous knowledge production, in my view the adoption of digital and modern techniques to traditional forms of production should not be seen as a perversion but rather an opportunity to preserve tradition for posterity, whilst enlarging participation on a global scale. This will further allow for a reconstruction of an African history and culture that reinforces African authorship.  Just imagine how magnificent it will be if the Sundiata epic was performed on a virtual platform where audiences from around the world could tune in and participate. Or a holographic performance that one can access in one’s living room. However, we must definitely stop at robots. I can’t possibly imagine a brass shell crooning and shuffling like the Griot.