The Senegalese Novel: A Sociological Study of the Impact of the Politics of Assimilation [1 ed.] 0894100017, 9780894100017, 0894100009

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The Senegalese Novel A Sociological Study of the Impact Of The Politics of Assimilation

IHECHUKWU MADUBUIKE

ELEGANCE SENEGALAISE

3SP

An Original by Three Continents Press

7778/128

—

THE SENEGALESE NOVEL A SOCIOLOGICAL STUDY OF THE IMPACT OF THE POLITICS OF ASSIMILATION

MURRAY STATE UNIVERSITY

Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2018 with funding from Kahle/Austin Foundation

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THE SENEGALESE NOVEL A SOCIOLOGICAL STUDY OF THE IMPACT OF THE POLITICS OF ASSIMILATION Ihechukwu Madubuike

An Original by Three Continents Press

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®Ihechukwu Madubuike 1983 ®1974 Jeune Afrique for maps and photos on pages 99, 108-109, 156-157, 192, and 222. FIRST EDITION Three Continents Press 1346 Connecticut Avenue N.W. Washington, D.C. 20036 All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations in critical articles and reviews. For informa¬ tion write the publisher. Cover Design ® D. Herdeck ISBN: 0-89410-000-9 0-89410-001-7 (pbk) LC No: 81-51650

To my father and mother

library MURRAY STATE UNIVERSITY

PREFACE Studies on the Senegalese novel have emphasized wrongly the non¬ militant attitude of Senegalese writers vis-a-vis colonization. This “literary pacifism” is usually attributed to the French colonial policy in Senegal. The assumption is that writers did not question this policy which, it is implied, they wholeheartedly endorsed.^ A detailed study of the novels, however, leads to a different conclusion. With the exception of Force-Bonte,^ there is no Senegalese novel which can be perceived as an unqualified song of praise devoted to the French ad¬ ministration in Senegal. It is true that the same type of militancy which exudes from the pages of the novels of a Mongo Beti or of an Oyono (perhaps the two most caustic of all the anti-colonial African writers) are absent, but often, with a style that is highly controlled and sober, the majority of Senegalese writers challenge the tenets of the politics of assimilation. Their works can in no way be construed as a panegyric of the colonial administration. I willingly express my indebtedness to many persons and sources. I am grateful to Madame Lilyan Kesteloot of the University of Paris, who super¬ vised the first plans of this work and suggested many bibliographies. The State University of New York at Buffalo gave me a one year’s study grant which made it possible for me to carry out research in Paris and Senegal on the topic of this book. Several students from Senegal with whom I lived in Paris and Dakar provided pertinent commentaries. To my delight, most of them were only too eager to agree with the conclusions I reached in sections of this work. Deserving special mention here are Arouna Diop, son of Majhmout Diop, with whom I lived for several months in Paris, and Ousmane Sane with whom I stayed in Dakar, and who took me around in Senegal. My discussions with Professors Mohammadou Kane and Abdoulaye Diop of the University of Dakar and I.F.A.N., respectively, and my conversations with Sembene Ousmane, Birago Diop, Cheikh Anta Diop and Pathe Diagne in¬ fluenced the result of this study more than I can adequately acknowledge. I am also indebted to Professors O. Mezu, Olga Bernal and Pierre Aubery, who all read this manuscript in French, and to Charles Nnolim, and to Onwuchekwa Jemie who read parts of this manuscript in English. Finally, I wish to thank my wife, my children and my editor for their invaluable time, patience and help. The notes contain occasional references to novels written in French which have been translated into English and which I used. Otherwise, the

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The Senegalese Novel

translations from French to English are mine. I have also used the terms French and “the West" interchangeably, and have sometimes assimilated Africa to Senegal. Quotations from the novels serving as major foci of this study are referenced in parentheses with abbreviations established for each title page.

'See, for instance, A.C. Brench, The Novelists’ Inheritance in French Africa, London, Ox¬ ford University Press, 1967, and A. Nicollet, Le roman senegalais; miroir d’une societe, Sorbonne. These, Seme cycle, 1967. ^Bakary Diallo, Force-Bonte, Paris, Edition Rieder, 1926.

ABBREVIATIONS OF THE NOVELS (See Bibliography for Full Publishing Details)

FALL, Malick LP La Plaie (The Wound) KANE, Cheikh Hamidou AA Auenture ambigue (Ambiguous Adventure) SADJI, Abdouiaye MA Maimouna NI Nini SEMBENE, Ousmane GBW Les Bouts de bois de dieu (Gods Bits of Wood) HA L’Harmattan (The Storm) LM Le Mandat (The Money Order) OP O Pays, mon beau peuple (O My Country, My Beautiful People)

SENGHOR, Leopold Sedar LNH Liberte I, Negritude et Humanisme {Liberte II is occasionally cited also) SOCE, Ousmane KA Karim MP Mirage de Paris (Mirage of Paris)

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uC 2^ by letting her young lover put her in the family way. Unforeseen events and a visit to a marabout enable Marieme (in Kar/rp) to marry Karim, the man she loves, thus 'DH;

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eliminating his rival. ^ .sa->n^-fq^ ' THh'“Piameire” or “competition’^'is the stage following the “attaque.” It is a monetafv^duel, ostensibly to win the favprrpf a young lady, but in reality,,it is organized by greedy parents fo'enrich themselves out of the pockets of the suitors. -4 The “Kend'e,”‘pr the marriage feast, js the last stage. After a solemn mar¬ riage, consecrated by .the Moslem ritual,' the newly married is escorted to her husband’s home by a group of friends and relatives in an ambience of joy and festivity. Importance is attach^ed. to the sexual experience of the ,young girl. Sexual abstention is lauded while pre-marital sex is condemned, as it in¬ dicates low morality. The husband finds out, during the honeymoon night, if the wife is a virgin by spreading an immaculate white linen cloth on the bed. “The Kind,” a traditional party featuring the drumming of different.tam-tams, is devoted to celebrating the virginity of the newly married girl. The marriage of Karim and Marieme, thus, reflects the three different stages listed above. Since the only other traditional marriage featured in the Senegalese novel (that which was to take place between Maimouna and Doudou Diouf) is not consummated, I shall focus attention on Karim and Marieme. ' Having, for a considerable length of time been meeting with Marieme, “a young bronze colored girl, draped in blue muslin, her hairs reflectirig iron fil¬ ings and with black almond eyes.,. (KA 19) Karim, following traditional custom, informs her of his love through a third party who is one of his friends. One evening he visits her, accompanied by his friends, to begin the “big con¬ frontation” (la “grande attaque’Td Also^accompanying Karim were his griots, the traditional poPts and historians, and the “dialis,” or traditional guitarists, in Senegal. In the house of the young girl and in the presence of Marieme’s parents, the griots and the guitarists sing the praise of Karim and refer to the greatness of his past. Karim responds by a prodigious generosity, javishing gifts and money on the griots and others around i ^ i The “confrontation” is a period of constant spending. Although they are not yet married, Karim has to assume responsibility for the expenses of his future wife; he buys her dresses during feasts, pays the griots who sing

The Marital Institution

47

their praises, and repairs her ear-rings! This does not prevent the young girl from receiving the attentions of other suitors who may be richer than Karim. And this is exactly what happens. Karim discovers there is another suitor, a rich rival named Badara. The latter invites him to the “diamelle,” the session of monetary competition, when the suitors demonstrate their financial wealth by distributing gifts of money not only to the intended wife, but to her parents, relatives and friends. Before the prodigious generosity of Badara, Karim was a wretched spender. He lost the monetary duel. Beaten and humiliated, he nourishes secretly his revenge, preparing for the appropriate time to win back Marieme. Money was important to realize this aim, but so also is occult power. Therefore, before leaving for Dakar for more lucrative employment, he consults a local marabout who gives him a “gris-gris,” a romantic charm, which will enable him to win back the affections of Marieme: ‘You will have to wear this gris-gris on your right hand,’ he advises him. ‘By the grace of God, Marieme will not have any other hus¬ band but you.’ (KA 61) Fortified with this amorous arsenal, Karim arrives in Dakar and plunges headlong into its fast and glamorous life. Other women attract his attention but his involvements with them are without any foundation. He is soon bored with his sentimental attachment with Aminanta, a young Dakarian of dubious character and low morals. He tosses about for some time the idea of marrying Marie N’Diaye, but the marriage is put off because his Moslem tradition for¬ bids him to marry a Catholic. One could say the gris-gris was equally having its effect on Karim: he, too, would have no other wife but Marieme. After his peregrinations and misadventures in Dakar, Karim comes back to Saint-Louis with a new sense of identity. He discovers that his former rival, the fast and easy-spending Badara is in prison because of the debt he has ac¬ cumulated. Now that his major obstacle is removed, Karim announces to his parents his intentions to get officially married to Marieme. His mother leads a delegation of other women who go to inform the mother of Marieme of Karim’s desire to marry her daughter: ‘Your child,’ replies Marieme’s mother, chewing a piece of kola nut, ‘is as good as our daughter. I knew him when he was visiting the house. I know him to be generous and honest. It is with joy that we shall give him our daughter in marriage.” (KA 146) The wedding is performed on a Friday, according to Moslem rites. The fourth Friday following the wedding, Marieme, according to custom, prepares to go

The Senegalese Novel

48

live with her husband, after the latter has ascertained her virginity. She (the woman griot) was spreading the news of her virginity. They showed to whoever was interested, the bright linen, stained at certain areas constituting the deadly proof of Marierne s virginity. (KA 147)

The newly married lady is led to her new home by a procession of aunts, friends, sisters-in-law, griots and singers, all of whom sing the following song. Marierne, if you were a man you would be an emperor If you were of the equine class You would have the nobility of the pure bred But we do not regret that you are a woman Because you are the star among your rivals In beauty, munificence and conduct. . . (KA 149)

A passage like the above shows the strength of group cohesion and the warmth of solidarity which characterize traditional life. Marriage, like other social activities, is grounded in the collective mentality. It is far from being a copy of the marital process in the contemporary West, where marriage has become, partly as a result of the conflict between the State and the Church, the contractual and judicial union between a man and a woman performed before a public official. In Senegal marriage is conceived as an alliance be¬ tween two families, symbolized by the union of a man and a woman. This is why parental involvement is important. In France, marriage is fundamentally laic with the civilian marriage preceding the religious one. In Senegal, it is essentially religious and sacred, nearly indissoluble, even after the death of one of the partners. For instance, Yaye Daro, the mother of Maimouna, and Assistan, a character of Sembene Ousmane in Gods Bits of Wood, refuse to leave their husbands’ families after the death of their respective husbands. The characteristics I have spotted above point to the specificity of an African concept of marriage and reveal the significant differences between it and the Western concept of marriage. It is true that the meaning of marriage, as well as its fortunes, has fluctuated during different historical periods in France, but the fact remains that the marital institutions in France and in Senegal do not have the same signification nor do they fulfill the same func¬ tions. This, perhaps, was why Senghor wrote, with reference to the concept of marriage in Africa, that marriage is not the beginning of a new family nor the integration of the woman into the family of her husband; it is the union of two clans for the work of procreation, a union in which each of the

The Marital Institution

49

clans, starting with the couple, maintains through cooperation, its personality and its liberty.^

In addition to the above conceptual differences there are also the formal differences, the most important being the African dowry system, which has been a source of misunderstanding in the West. The notion that one “buys” a wife in Africa is as erroneous as the illusion that the Tarzan movies were ac¬ tually filmed and produced in the continent of Africa. Traditional marriage in Africa was not a commercial event. The giving of dowries to the parents of African brides as traditionally conceived was a symbolic gesture, a way to consolidate the marriage and cement the future relationship between the two marrying families. The French ethnologist, Maurice Delafosse, certainly understood the philosophical foundations of the African dotal system when he wrote: It is inexact to say that Black people buy their wives. The buying of any object whatsoever, or of a person, a slave for instance, makes the buyer the proprietor of the object of the person bought. But the Blacks do not allow at any time a husband to have any right of pro¬ prietorship over the wife, directly or indirectly by the family which paid the “dowry.” He cannot get rid of her nor pawn her away. As a matter of fact the wife continues to belong to her original family, in a transitory manner, she is at the disposition of the family of her husband and takes care of the household of the latter and pro¬ creates children with him.^

Senghor expressed a similar idea when he emphasized the liberty and freedom of Senegalese wives at home, and this again pours more cold water on the theory of wife-buying in Africa. According to Senghor; A singular example of her (the wife’s) liberty is that if she becomes a widow or if she is offended by the husband, she returns to her clan, with children and property. (LNH 270)

It is true, of course, that the wife does not always run home at the slightest provocation or following the death of her husband. I have already alluded to characters (Yaye Daro, for instance) who live in their dead husband’s families. It is more usual for the woman to go home if the husband dies before they have any offspring. The essence of Senghor’s statement holds, however. It points to the fundamental freedom of the African woman. The dowry is not a “price” that must be paid in the traditional Senegalese society. The suitor offers as a gesture to the family of the bride gifts of rice, salt and pepper, beef or goat, and sometimes cowries. He could elect to work in

The Senegalese Novel

50

the farm of his future mother-in-law, giving the latter opportunities to know and get more acquainted with her future son-in-law. By these gestures, the suitor

reveals

not

only

his

seriousness

in

getting

married

but

also

demonstrates that he is capable of taking care of his wife and helping members of her family in time of need. The introduction of a monetary economy, a phenomenon brought about by colonization, has disfigured the symbolic tradition of the dowry and left it with a serious aberration. The generation of Karim and Magamou are the vic¬ tims of this change which has commercialized the dowry system and led to its exploitation. Many parents, of which the mother of Marieme is a good exam¬ ple, give their daughter, literally speaking, to the

highest bidder,

that is, to

the' person who proposes to give the highest amount of money. Some parents build their future hopes and aspirations on such offers. Sembene Ousmane is critical of such parents. Malik Diop, a character in his O pays, mon beau peuple, was a “father of four daughters. . . [who] counted on using the dowries from his daughters’ marriages to finish his last days on earth in the quietude of old age.” (OP 18) It is the youth who has to face the specter of marriage who finally suffers. For him marriage has become a terrible ordeal, a new kind of initiation testing his manhood. He no longer can count on love and romantic engagements, good looks and gallantry to win a girl in marriage. The modern girl is con¬ demned for her cupidity, for her insatiable desire for monetary and material gains. Karim and his friends from Saint-Louis, [as well as Magamou, the pro¬ tagonist of La Plaie,] articulate the thoughts of this anxious generation of Senegalese youths: Their conversation centred on the defeat of Karim. It was a terrible lesson. They talked of never stupidly spending their money on lovers who simply wanted to enrich themselves and abandon them as soon as they see a wealthier person. They wanted to become wiser, to have a nice wife and live tranquilly in their home. (KA 62)

Despite this rationalist philosophy, Karim and his friends have to recon¬ cile themselves to the greedy ethics of their changed society or remove themselves voluntarily from it. Several years after Karim was published, the dowry situation had not shown any serious signs of improvement, as is pointed out in this sociological observation by Vincent Monteil: The dowry situation in Senegal is almost unique. The reaction of the youth goes from despair to suicide. And the economic conse¬ quences of such a situation is not to be underestimated. Dakar

The Marital Institution

51

parents ask from their future sons-in-law a provision of 15,000 F, as a guarantee to be sure that their daughter will need nothing.'’

The desire to meet such demands from parents causes the youth to leave the village to look for lucrative jobs in the city, especially in Dakar. Here they can work and save some money with which to meet their marital obligations. As Karim and his friends were later to realize: To get married money was necessary. And in Saint-Louis they had no means of making savings. (KA 62)

Magamou,

in La Plaie,

expresses the same sentiments when he asks

rhetorically; If I were to count only on our meagre harvests how would I dare ask the hand of Soukeyna in marriage? (LP 31)

One could almost come to the conclusion that the young Senegalese only work in order to save enough money to marry, all as a result of this flagrant abuse of the dotal system. The latter is “modernized” without being Western¬ ized. This modernism is attributable to the fact that it has lost the traditional spirit and value which informed it.

-I-

-(-I-

The

Senegalese

society,

like

many

other

African

societies,

is

polygamous. Polygamy is a social fact, deeply rooted in the people’s mental¬ ity. The novels bear witness to this tradition. In the early pages of God s Bits of Wood, Sembene Ousmane indicates the very polygamous nature of the country’s marital institution: In this country, the men often had many wives and it was perhaps because of this that at the beginning of the strike they were scarcely conscious of the help the women gave them. (GBW 75)

In O pays, won beau peuple, Moussa Faye is portrayed as an austere but venerable polygamous person, and “his three wives made him look more venerable to the eyes of the believers.” (OP 17) Despite her opposition to polygamy, the emancipated, Western-oriented N’deye Touti expresses the desire to become “the second wife

of Bakayoko, the syndicate leader.

(GBW 329) Joseph Koeboghi, a Catholic priest, wishes to divorce his first wife “and live only with the other two wives.” (HA 147)

The Senegalese Novel

52

Sembene Ousmane sometimes portrays the polygamous family as a place where concord, harmony and mutual help reign:

Old Moussa Faye

governed his house in his own way, and there was never a single dispute be¬ tween his wives.” (OP 17) Badiana, an obscure character in God’s Bits of Wood, “had two other wives, but in spite of this there had always been con¬ tentment and harmony in the house” (GBW 99). But if Sembene Ousmane reveals some of the positive aspects of polygamy, he nevertheless expresses sentiments which show clearly his op¬ position to the traditional martrimonial institution in general and to polygamy in particular. His young characters, in particular, manifest a hostile attitude towards polygamy.

N’deye Touti, for instance,

has this to say about

polygamy: “I am sure of one thing. I’ll never share my husband with any other woman.’’(GBW 112) In O pays, mon beau peuple, a young intellec¬ tual, Dr. Agbo, outlines the vices of polygamy, “. . .the quarrels between brothers, the question of inheritance, the jealousy between the women, the lack of affection by the man, and other things.” (OP 45) Of course one has to stop and pause and ask if all the above criticisms are correct. For instance, are quarrels between brothers limited to polygamous families? Don’t brothers from the same mother have their own arguments, sometimes on matters as crucial as those concerning inheritance? These are important questions, since no mention is made of the philosophy which lays the foundation of the polygamous institution, which is completely integrated within the traditional collective thinking of the people especially into its ethical and economic structure. Its raisons d’etre are therefore multiple. First, there is the economic reason. According to Albert Schweitzer,

The African wife does

not like to be the only wife since she has then to take care of the plantation all alone, which is the function of the wife.”^ It should be added that in the tradi¬ tional society many women like to be associated with polygamous families with many wives and children because of the prestige and respect associated with such families. Sterility is also another reason which could explain mar¬ riage to more than one woman. In a society where reproduction of children is the essential function of marriage, sterility is held in great horror. In this con¬ nection, Sembene Ousmane writes: In a country where sterility is forbidden, a woman cannot live without an offspring among her co-wives. In many cases, divorce is recommended, the dowry returned, and the family shamed, but sometimes the woman remarries and gives birth to a child. (OP 25)

Abdoulaye Sadji also observes that sterility could constitute the subject of mis¬ understanding among married couples:

The Marital Institution

53

One sad event disturbed their common happiness: they had no child. The husband had consulted all the famous doctors, the wife the most noted marabouts and sorcerers, but the desired child did not come. This would have been a subject of perpetual quarrelling between two people who do not understand themselves. Between Rihanna and the husband, however, their plight was only seen as a misfortune which they deplored sometimes in their moments of in¬ timacy. (MA 92)

In some African societies a sterile woman sometimes asks the husband to marry another wife. But Rihanna and the husband live outside the traditional society and in conjugal matters do not necessarily follow traditional norms. But Rokhaya in O pays, mon beau peuple, who has an only child and has lost many children, was relieved when the husband married other wives: It was then that she started her sorcery. She left in the night only to return at dawn, her child strapped on her back. Nothing else was important to her, her child must live. When the second wife was in¬ troduced to the house it relieved her and she devoted more time to her sorcery. Then came the third girl which again relieved her even more. (OP 26)

This again demonstrates that polygamy is socially accepted and is relevant to the moral and ethical conduct of the people. Polygamy is one of the sore spots which surfaced during the confronta¬ tion between the railroad workers and the colonial administration in God’s Bits of Wood. The following passage will best illustrate the gross misunder¬ standing of the concept of polygamy and the African marital system by the stereotyped French colonial administrators in the novel: ‘Very well then,’ Dejean said. ‘Let us consider this matter of good intentions. You certainly must recognize that the matter of family allowances cannot be considered.’ ‘Why?’ Doudou asked. ‘Simply because you are all polygamous,’ Victor said. ‘How do you think we could possibly recognize all of those children? ‘And with the money you got, you would just go out and buy more wives and have more children,’ Isnard interrupted. ‘The DakarNiger isn’t a nursery school, for God’s sake!’ (GBW 275)

I have already dealt with the shortcomings of this view of the African marriage system. What is interesting, however, is the political as well as the moral

54

The Senegalese Novel

stance the administration took as a result of its prejudice against polygamy, a stance inherent in the principle of the mission ciuilisatrice and articulated by the head of the French mission in Senegal in the following words: The manufacturers, the merchants, and even the stockholders in the railroad had already been bringing pressure to bear on him. But to give in on the question of family allowances was much more than a matter of agreeing to a compromise with striking workers; it would amount to recognition of a racial aberration, a ratification of the customs of inferior beings. It would be giving in, not to workers but to Negroes, and that Dejean could not do. (GBW 276)

In Dejean’s rank obstinacy, one could detect the influence of racism and cultural chauvinism. Before Sembene Ousmane, Doudou Thiam, a Senegalese lawyer, had revealed the assimilationist and destructive intentions of a French government decree directed against traditional African marriages in the former French colonies. According to this decree: “All marriages not performed before a state registrar will not be considered valid; they will be regarded as pure concubinage.”^ The Colonial Administration represented by Dejean did not hesitate to enforce this decree. All marriages in the colony had to be contractual and juridical according to French civil and marital codes. The indiscriminate enforcement of this code produced some embarrassing situations in the novel. An example is cited of a woman preparing to join her husband in Madagascar but is prevented because she has not followed the French marital code. The woman complains to a friend: I went to the district military office—the one they’ve had since the strike—and they told me that I’m not even married, according to the toubab’s laws. The marriage in the church doesn’t count unless you’re married in one of their offices, too. It’s as if I had been living with my husband all this time and never been married. (GBW 9)

The general complaints against polygamy are that it is deleterious to pro¬ gress and inhibits the personal freedom of the Senegalese woman. None of these charges, however, have been scientifically demonstrated. They are tendentious and will remain largely so until supported by some empirical analysis and data. It will be difficult to convince anyone that African societies are backward because African men practice polygamy. There are examples of poor countries in the world where polygamy is not practiced. What is respon¬ sible for this poverty? Ghana, Mali and Songhay grew into prosperous and powerful medieval empires despite the fact that their men were polygamous! It is equally inane to assert, without demonstration, that African women are not

The Marital Institution

55

“emancipated” because they live in polygamous societies or with polygamous husbands. It may be necessary to state here that not every man in pre-colonial Africa was bigamous or polygamous. There were men who could not marry more than one wife. Does it then follow that any woman living monogamously is “emancipated?” If so, why are American women agitating for equality and liberation? The upsurge of present day feminist liberation movements is basically an American phenomenon, revealing a particular brand of American sensitivity to social events. Feminism in America is not necessarily the sam.e as feminism in England, France, or Senegal. France’s then Minister of Women’s Affairs, Mme. Giroux, recently pointed out some of the basic differences between the American woman and the French woman and shown why the latter is not yet interested in organized and vociferous women’s liberation movements. Economic emancipation may well be the main goal of current feminist agitation in America and other parts of the world. The traditional African woman did not need such help. Senghor knew this when he wrote: The Negro-African woman, contrary to current opinion, need not be liberated; she has been liberated for centuries.^

The point to be made about polygamy is that men at different places and times have displayed polygamous or monogamous tendencies, responding to some historical, economical or religious exigencies prevalent in their times. The same historical, economic, religious or philosophical exigencies deter¬ mine whether societies remain monogamous, bigamous, polygamous, and when the African society adopts the now prevalent Western practice of hav¬ ing one legal wife and several “hidden” mistresses. The present grievances against polygamy, although well-meant, in some cases are by no means all sound. I have already referred to the fundamental freedom of the African woman. I am not speaking of a Sartrian liberty or of some other metaphysical freedom. I am speaking of the practical liberty of the African woman. In this sense one can even refer to the enormous authority of some Senegalese women. There is the example of the Royal Lady, the aggressive character of Cheikh Hamidou Kane in Ambiguous Adventure, or again of the courageous Ramatoulaye of Sembene Ousmane’s God’s Bits of Wood. These African women, both Moslems, have some powers that men do not. Kane, for in¬ stance, could write the following lines about the Most Royal Lady: The Most Royal Lady was the older sister of the Diallobe chief. It was said that it was she, more than her brother, whom the country¬ side feared. If she had ceased her indefatigable excursions on horseback, the memory of her tall silhouette continued no less to

The Senegalese Novel

56

hold in obedience the northern tribes who were renowned for their haughty arrogance. The chief of the Diallobe was by nature more inclined to be peaceable. Where he preferred to appeal to under¬ standing, his sister would cut through to the matter by asserting her authority. (AA 19)

The Most Royal Lady is a rare case. There are several other Senegalese women like her. Marriage does not necessarily limit this freedom but rather consecrates it. In the conjugal home, observes Senghor, the man contrary to the accepted opinion.

she is the equal of

According to Senegalese tradi¬

tion, the woman is free to leave her husband if she no longer desires to live with him. In that case she simply pays back the dowry. Marriage, therefore, does not necessarily limit the African woman s freedom. In any case, the French effort to Westernize the Senegalese matrimonial institution was not motivated by any love for the African woman. Polygamy is still practiced in Senegal. Its total destruction will be the function of a long process of social change, linked intrinsically to a transfor¬ mation of the people’s mental attitude. The economic situation may well have a role to play in this. The new generation of young Senegalese, represented by Karim and Magamou, may definitely not be in a position to marry more than one wife, especially not with the soaring bride prices and the constant hike in cost of living, especially in the urbanized areas. A predominantly Moslem country, Senegal is a very fertile ground for the practice of polygamy. The perspective is that the rich, affluent and devoted Moslem will remain polygamous for yet a long time to come. As Sembene Ousmane noted;

To

change a country or a wife does not resolve any problem... if men continue to think in the same old way.”^ T

+

+ -f-

In Nini, Abdoulaye Sadji indicates that ironically the French Colonial Ad¬ ministration encouraged interracial marriages because it promoted the work of effective cultural assimilation. Thus the marriage of Dedee, a young mulat¬ to girl from Saint-Louis, to Monsieur Darrivey of the French Administration was proclaimed a very desirable marriage from a colonial and human point of view, because it seems to promote the coming together of the different races and represents a typical example of integral assimilation. (NI 343)

The Marital Institution

57

But as I shall show later in this chapter, “the coming together of races” through marriage is not an easy task. For instance, the mulatto girls of Senegal do not seem anxious to marry their black compatriots, and there are black and white parents who do not see eye to eye on interracial marriages. In Mirages de Paris, the Bourciezs disapprove of their daughter’s mar¬ riage to Fara, a black youth from Senegal, because of social “conventions,” which they insist “demand that no one should marry outside his race or even outside his social sphere.” (MP 169). But the principal reason was that Fara, in their thinking, was the racial brother of a man that some European thinkers have classified as quadrapeds and that Hitler in our times considered as an intermediary species between the monkey and man. (p. 94) Fara and Jacqueline finally got married, but not before the latter had run away from her parents’ home. Continuous parental and social pressures con¬ tributed to a painful labor and delivery, and ultimately to Jacqueline’s death. Sembene Ousmane is a strong partisan of total liberty for the individual in conjugal affairs and the problem of interracial marriage is one of the thematic strands of O pays, mon beau peuple. The principal character of this novel, Oumar Faye, is the husband of a white wife, Isabelle. When they come home from France they are subjected to attack by Oumar’s parents, and the general public. Moussa, Oumar’s father, is bitter and disappointed in his son and remonstrates with him: ‘Did you think of your mother the day of your marriage?’ ‘Very much!’ ‘And what did your conscience tell you?’ Oumar remained silent. Moussa used the occasion to develop his thought: ‘You are now a man, flying with your own wings. . . My daughter will never marry a white man. Do you think you have done well? Speak! How are you going to live here? Will both of you eat our food? Will your wife go to fetch water from the stream? Will she pound millet or are you going to do it in her place? In the future you will no longer be able to eat in my house since there is only one kitchen and one main dish. If she does not despise us she may plunge her white hand into our wooden plate. (OP 52) Moussa’s reaction does not, however, take his son by surprise, since he has

The Senegalese Novel

58

already thought over some of the questions the patriarch raised. Oumar Faye has since decided to build his own house where he will live with his wife, far from the paternal concession. Oumar’s mother, Rokhaya, is, however, more tolerant despite her earlier opposition to the marriage. But to the villagers an only son who gets married to a white woman is a lost cause. Their attitude reminds us of the advice given to Obi Okonkwo, the protagonist of No

Longer at Ease (Chinua Achebe’s Nigerian novel), before he leaves for England: Obi is advised not to marry a white woman: A man who does that, he was told, is lost to his people. Fie is like rain wasted in the forest." This is how the villagers of Casamance felt about Oumar Faye, although Faye is later to redeem himself in their eyes. From the white world, represented by the colonial administration in Senegal, Oumar and Isabelle meet equally conflicting opposition. Isabelle is the object of a rape conspiracy by two white men who could not live with the fact that a “Negro” could go to bed with a white woman. They bluntly ask her: ‘Does it mean nothing to you to be going to bed with a Negro. If I were in your place I would be ashamed. But she answers: ‘And you, you would like to sleep with me after the Negro had done so? Doesn’t the rest of the Negro bother you? He is by far bet¬ ter than you, you scum.’ (OP 140-141). On a personal level the marriages of Faye and Isabelle, and Fara and Jac¬ queline, are relatively successful. But on the socio-collective level the story is different, and the couples are conscious of this fact. Oumar Faye has this to say about his marriage: ‘A single misunderstanding would be sufficient to sweep away our marriage. Think always that we are living between two worlds, be¬ tween day and night. Neither blacks nor whites could believe we would be able to live together.’(OP 88) In their own conversations Fara and his wife, Jacqueline, also discuss the fragility of mixed marriages when viewed socially: ‘In Africa you would be unhappy,’ said Fara. ‘The climate will be in¬ salubrious for you and you will meet some hostility there.’ ‘lOh the part of the natives?’

The Marital Institution

59

‘And from whites, too, who will scowl at you because of the prestige of their race in the colonies.’ ‘And the natives do not like the French? But you told me they were French citizens?’ ‘Yes, but in conjugal affairs, they, like your parents, have their own prejudice.’ (MP 105)

Sidia, Fara’s friend and a student of philosophy, adds a new dimension to the problem of mixed marriages, focusing on the political and national implica¬ tions; ‘We must not, we, the black elite, have mulatto children. They will one day go back to the white race. And the black race which is in such need of qualified men, will find itself skimmed from generation to generation; in this way it will never be able to get rid of the prob¬ lem which is smothering it to death, the lack of organization and leaders.’(MP 146).

Nini seems to confirm Sidia’s thesis. Nini, the protagonist of Sadji s novel, is a young Senegalese girl of mixed parentage who rejects the black world. Her contradictions and internal conflicts are the object of a penetrating psychological analysis by Sadji. Nini is a problematic individual looking for superior values in a society full of prejudices. She therefore falls in line with the heroes of the novel according to George Lukacs’ theory: The hero of the novel is a problematic individual, a fool or a criminal, because he is in search of absolute values without know¬ ing them and living them integrally, and therefore, unable to approach them. A search which constantly progresses without moving forward, a movement which Lukacs labels; ‘the road has ended, the journey has begun.

Nini, in effect, lives in a vicious circle; she rejects the black world without be¬ ing sure the white world will accept her. She makes a desperate attempt to cling to this world. In the process, she acts out her mental sickness by refusing marriages with her black compatriots while dreaming of marriage with various whites. This is the dream of all the mulattoes in Senegal: Their great dream is to marry a white man from Europe. One could say that all their efforts are directed towards this goal which is nearly never achieved. . . What they need is a white man, completely white, and nothing but white. Nearly all of them keep waiting, all their life, this good fortune, which is less than probable. (NI 335)

The Senegalese Novel

60

With this background, one can understand the fury of Nini and the mulatto society of Saint-Louis when Mactar, an ambitious Senegalese, described by Sadji as “an idealist and a convinced advocate of unlimited progress” (N1 28), asks Nini’s hand in marriage and proffers his black love: “The love I offer you is pure and strong; it has nothing of a false tenderness intended to lull you with lies and illusions.... I should consider it the highest of honours and the greatest of joys to have you in my house and to dedicate myself to you, body and soul.” (NI 286) Nini, who considers herself white or near-white, con¬ strues the offer as the greatest insult in her life, “the utmost insolence” any black man could give to a person of her elected race. She therefore vows to teach Mactar a lesson for the unwarranted liberties he has taken, and the whole mulatto society, which also feels threatened by this outrage, backs her: “There will be letters to the head of the Department of Public Works and to the governor of the colony, in order to call their attention to the black man’s behavior and have him dismissed in recompense for the moral havoc that he has caused.” (NI 288) Nini’s overcompensating attitudes, of course, never earned the lasting love of a “white man from Europe.” She was disappointed by her white “lovers,” one after the other, and not even her visits to traditional medicine men and Moslem marabouts for love-binding potions could lead to the desired marriage with a white man. In a final act of desparation, she runs off to France where she hopes she will be surrounded by white faces, far from the attentions of treacherous negroes.

-(-

+

+ The preceding analysis reveals clearly that there are some significant changes affecting the marital process in Senegal since the intervention of the French in the life of the people. Some of the significant changes are to be noticed in the areas of the choice of marriage partners and the dotal system. More and more young Senegalese men and women are able to choose their own future partners, who may be either black or white, without parental con¬ sent: The introduction and adoption of a Western oriented monetary economy is transforming the essence and significance of the dowry, gradually undermining its traditional symbolic stature. Polygamy has come to be viciously challenged by the intellectual community, especially the younger generation exposed to Western ideas and influences. On the other hand, there is continuity and persistence in tradition in

The Marital Institution

61

some other areas. The dotal system, although modified, is still practiced and remains an important aspect of every Senegalese marriage. The effort of the government to control dowry prices has been resisted by many of the people. Polygamy persists equally, especially in the rural areas, and many formal traditional processes of marriage (intimation, betrothal, and ceremony) re¬ main largely intact. Some other traditional marriage customs such as the levirate, the custom of taking over the wife of a deceased brother, persists. This is how Bakayoko, the trade unionist of God’s Bits of Wood, came to be the husband of Assistan. (GBW 173) The people’s attitudes toward mixed marriages vary, reflecting social upbringing and environment. The mulattoes favor marriage with the whites, while some blacks question the wisdom of mixed marriages and remain generally skeptical about them. Those other Senegalese who practice or favor mixed marriages are those exposed to Western ideology (Fara, Faye and Doctor Tangara of UHarmattan). Mixed religious marriage (e.g. between a Christian and a Moslem) is usually inadmissable, especially in the rural areas. *Soce defines “gris-gris” as “prayer addressed to God.” ^“Elements constructifs d’une civilisation d’inspiration negro-africaine, ” Presence Africaine, no. special, 24-25, 1959, p. 264. ^Les Civilisations Negro-Africaines, Paris, Stock, 1925, pp. 47-48. ‘*L’Islam Noir, Paris, Seuil, 1964, p. 62. ^Quoted in C.R. Joy, Albert Schweitzer, une Anthologie, Paris, Payot, 1950, p. 180. ^Quoted in Doudou Thiam, Portee de la citoyennete fran^aise dans les territoires d’outremer, Paris, Socie'te d’e'ditions africaines, 1953, p. 105. ^L.S. Senghor, art. cit., Presence Africaine, no. special 24-25, p. 264. ^Ibid. Woltaique, suiui de la noire de. . . . Paris, Presence Africaine, 1962, p. 13. '“This point of view calls to mind the racist theory of Gobineau who wrote: “It will be inexact to pretend that all (racial) mixtures are bad and harmful. If the three great human types (black, white, and yellow) remain completely separated, without being mixed, there is little doubt that racial supremacy will continue to belong to the best of the white tribes, and the yellow and black varieties will eternally bow at the feet of the lowest nations of this (white) race . . . But in this situa¬ tion all shall not be to our advantage. The relative superiority, by persisting in a very evident man¬ ner, would not, we must admit, be accompanied by certain advantages that the mixture pro¬ duced, and which while not countering the sum of their inconveniences, are nevertheless worthy of being sometimes apyplauded.” S. Okechukwu Mezu, LeopoldSedarSenghoret la defense et illustration de la civilisation noire, Paris, Didier, 1968, p. 173. See, also, Arthur Gobineau, Essai sur I’inegalite des races hurnaines, t. 1, livre 11, Paris, Librarie de Paris, 1933, pp. 217-218. "Chinua Achebe, No Longer at Ease, New York, Fawcett World Library, 19—,p. 18. '^Lucian Goldmann, Pour une sociologie du rowan, Paris, Gallimard, 1964, p. 174. '“There is a Moslem law against the marriage of a Moslem woman to a Christian male, but

the same law permits the marriage of a Christian lady to a Moslem male. Karim (Moslem), however, could not marry Marie N’Diaye (Christian) because “the differences of religion and of education, and the differences of their parents’ mentalities, created a gap difficult to bridge.” (KA 129.)

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THE MARITAL INSTITUTION: DYNAMISM OF CHANGE AND RESISTANCE

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Chapter VI RELIGION Every social activity in Africa is invested with a religious flavor. The fami¬ ly, for instance, has a spiritual foundation: the ancestors who constitute an in¬ tegral part of it act as intermediaries betVv/een the dead and the living. This ex¬ plains ancestor worship. The ancestors plead in favor of the living before the gods, asking for their good health and prosperity. A religious spirit also in¬ forms the traditional matrimonial system. The goddess of birth as the primary source of life is thus worshipped. Sterility engenders metaphysical doubts and spiritual anxiety. A barren woman is considered a carrier of bad luck because she is suspected of being under a divine curse. The land also has a religious and sacred quality. It is collective property and a “factor of solidarity between the living and the dead.”' Education in the traditional community is religiously inspired as well; initiation, or the rite de passage, is simply a means of discovering the traditional cosmogony, a search for the answer to existence. In effect, every single activity in the traditional African society has its own god, very similar to what existed in ancient Greece.

The

gods

reveal

themselves

through

a

number

of

natural

phenomena; rain, tornados, tempest winds, disease, pestilence. Nature in all its physical splendor attests equally to the divine presence: trees and animals, the stars, water, the lakes and the great African forests are the manifestations of the great God to man.

The animistic ontology is thus essentially

spiritualistic. To decipher this spiritual world animated by a superior force, the Senegalese has at his disposal a number of means which constitute the elements of his religion. The Senegalese novel depicts these traditional religious elements and reveals the ways in which they function. The most important—fetishism, sorcery, divination and magic—help to enhance the meanings of the novels and advance their cultural focus. We shall look at some of these positive religious elements, pejoratively called animism,^ in their artistic and figurative renderings and see how the Senegalese have tried to respond to man s search for transcendental values. The universe of the Senegalese novel is comprised of visible and invisible forces. It is a world in which devils, sorcerers and wizards haunt big in¬ hospitable forests, a world in which certain men and women have acquired the reputation of being able to enter into communication with supernatural forces through the process of necromancy in order to heal or inflict pain upon

The Senegalese Novel

102

others. These people, according to Nini, can ‘‘change the laws of destiny or prevent their execution.” (N1 349) In the traditional Senegalese society, they are known as ‘‘feticheurs. ’ Several of them combine the effectiveness of a diviner with that of a magician and a sorcerer. They ^predict the future, see through “hidden things,” cure and cast spells on their enemies. Bita Hein, a character in Sembene Ousmane’s novel, L Harrnattan, is one such “feticheur.” The sacred guardian of a pantheon of gods, he is the chief priest of the god of hunting and is famous for his magical abilities. The novel narrates how he causes the death of two men in the service of the French Administration, Remy Soglo and Antoine Faure, who were making life difficult for hunters by limiting their hunting territory to areas outside the Colonial Government’s reserve. Antoine is killed by a hunter called Digbe, and Remy falls victim to the magical charms of Bita Hein. Nothing, including the interventions of Western medicine, could save him. He dies according to predictions, at the very moment when Bita Hein arrives at the hospital where Antoine is being treated. Bita Hein, according to the novel, has other powers. He can, for instance, reconcile the differing members of a family and restore peace to quarelling parties. When Tioumbe, one of the younger characters of the novel, falls out with her father, her mother decides to consult Bita Hein to effect a reconciliation. Sorcery is an important reality in traditional Senegal, as the novels in¬ dicate. It is traditionally believed that the sorcerer is a caster of bad spells and evil spirits as well as trouble shooter. According to George Parrinder, sorcery in Africa is based on the belief that certain individuals, women in particular, have the power to transform themselves and take various forms when they seize the body and soul of their enemies or sometimes of their parents.^ Another writer, B. Holas, a sociologist, states: In the light of experiences acquired so far the African sorcerer will assume in our exposition the aspect of a person perfectly human who seeks, pushed by an irresistable force, to harm his neighbors through occult means, but acting under a perfect anonymity. . . . “^ The novels show, however, that the essential function of the sorcerer in the traditional Senegalese society is not to destroy the vital forces of others. On the contrary, the sorcerer sometimes infuses life into the sick or the physically handicapped. This is typified by Rokhaya Faye, a character of O pays, mon beau peuple, Sembene Ousmane’s second published novel.

Religion

103

For Rokhaya Faye, the practice of sorcery is the result of a very bitter ex¬ perience in life. That experience is linked with the life cycle—the birth and death of her children before maturity. To make her last child, Oumar, live she takes to sorcery. In the process she acquires much knowledge on maternity and motherhood, so much so that she becomes an authority on childbirth and infant mortality whom the villagers consult during their hours of need. Abdoulaye Sadji, author of Maimouna and Nini, two novels set in tradi¬ tional communities, reveals that sorcery is hereditary. Maimouna’s troubles, especially her sleeplessness, are traced to her association with her young friend Karr who comes from a family of sorcerers. In the following words the diviners and marabouts counsel against the friendship: Maimouna must get rid of a certain black girl of about the same age and who lives near you. She must avoid her company. They neither have the same head nor the same eye. It is this child so much attached to Maimouna who, through a hereditary power of sorcery, disturbs her sleep in the night. (MA 21)

The sorcerer in the traditional Senegalese society is an extraordinary in¬ dividual. He is characterized either by his unusual physical beauty or ugliness, or by an extraordinary gift of intelligence or, again, by the strangeness of his character. The young Karr, for example, is known for her physical beauty: She was black from the head to the feet, of an anthracitic blackness, with large mobile eyes and beautiful teeth. Her whole family was marked by this physical beauty, which was perhaps at the origin of ‘the rumor about them.’ (MA 22)

Equipped with “exceptionally long” eyes Karr could see clearly through the human body. Nothing is hidden from her; she sees the bowels as well as the hearts of human beings. Her extraordinary beauty draws her victims to her. When the victim is dead and buried she is believed to enter the tomb to devour him. This presentation of the sorcerer is identical to that by Holas, who made the following observations: According to a Senegalese writer, the Wolof think of the sorcerer as a character with occult powers through which he can change and become an animal, frighten his victims during the night and steal away their life. Then when the victim is buried the sorcerer unearths and revives it and finally kills it. . .in order to eat its flesh like butch¬ er’s meat. . . ^

In God's Bits of Wood we also learn that sorcerers can metamorphose into

The Senegalese Novel

104

grains of dust, termites, into thorn-bush or even into a bird” (GBW 306). In this way they can move about unseen and secretly carry out their activities. A sorcerer is an object of public hatred. A suspect has to establish his or her innocence. It is on record, however, that several witches and wizards have voluntarily given themselves up to the public during an act of self confes Sion known as “diafour.” This act is a relief to the society since it shows who is a culprit and who is not. Apart from the “diafour,” the traditional Senegalese society has other means of fighting sorcery and of healing physical pains. In this respect, diviners and healers have important roles to play in society. Their importance becomes all the more obvious when one realizes that every disturbance in the life of the individual or of the society is linked with sorcery. Examples taken from our novels illustrate this point. When Oumar Faye, the protagonist of O pops, mon bcQU pcupls, had a violent attack of malaria fever, the mother declared “that (they) had cast a bad spell on her son and in every nook and corner of the room where he was slowly dying were fetishes and animal skins” (OP 158). Sterility is linked to sorcery as well. Manh Kombeti, the midwife in L'Harmattan, observes that a jealous wife can render another sterile by put¬ ting her under a magical spell. The chief cook of the hospital, Mr. Fousseynou, discloses that he is the victim of sorcery from envious neighbors; For more than twenty years, I have worked, worked to pay the greatest sorcerers, marabouts and fetishists better. All unanimously have agreed that I am under a charm the object of which is to remove me from home. Rivalry. Jealously. Envy. No one so far has removed me from this spell. ( HA 300-301) Sorcery is thus a means of diminishing the effectiveness of a spell, or to humiliate one’s enemies, an instrument of vengeance. Thus, in the world of the Senegalese novel the individual is constantly fighting forces that are op¬ pressive and unhealthy. He barricades himself with protective means to ward off the evil effects of “djinns” and “frivolous divinities, enemies of man” (HA 5). He constantly consults diviners and healers who are so popular that even some white colonialists go to them for protection, as Magamou Seek reveals in La Plaie: You too visit marabouts, healers and diviners. You wear gris-gris, I know it. A white man! A white man! You hide it in your portfolio!. . . You have nothing to teach me.... (LP 15) Divination—the attempt to uncover hidden knowledge by occult and supernatural means—is a part of the ritual aspect of the traditional Senegalese

Religion

105

religion. Through it the individual can see the future, control his destiny and act upon the course of supernatural forces. He could, through sacrifices to the gods and intermediaries of his ancestors, achieve material success and good health. As we have seen, it was a soothsayer who revealed the cause of Maimouna’s nightmares. To assure her good health the mother offered sacrifices to the gods, purchased some gris-gris and some blessed water for her. African medicine also has its ontological and religious implications. This is because every physiological perturbation is associated with a supernatural cause. An ancestor who felt neglected could cause sickness in the family; children who desert the custom of their people could provoke the wrath of the gods. Thus, the characters in O pays, mon beau peuple attribute the in¬ creased death rate among their children to divine vengeance due to the cultural deviation of the Senegalese youth. “If there is so much death among children,” one of them explains, “it is because they abandon their ancestral custom, the way of God, and here we are complaining of the lack of water. It is God who is punishing us.” (OP 21) The traditional African doctor uses two methods to effect the cure of the sick. The first is to drive away evil spirits through incantation and sacrifice, and the second is to give curative herbs and leaves to the patient. Rokhaya makes use of these two procedures to assure that her daughter-in-law, Isabelle, could deliver her child without much risk. Isabelle was first purified during a ceremony of incantation. Then she was given some herbs from the forest among which were “leaves for the loins and leaves for stomach troubles” (OP 208). African pharmacopoeia combines psychology, empirical medicine and occult science. Every African healer, doctor and every magi¬ cian attributes the success or failure of his operation to God. In a way, traditional Senegalese religion is dynamic, pliant and plastic. It has no fixed structure. Its plastic and open structure permits it to enrich and to modify itself when exposed to other religious influences without losing its originality. The novels from Senegal indicate this flexibility, this internal dynamism of animism, in contact with Islam, the “official” religion of many Senegalese.^ Islam is portrayed in the novels through its formal aspects revealed in the stringent observation of daily rituals of prayer and sacrifice, the numerous periodical feasts and the majestic presence of Moslem priests or marabouts. For the Moslem characters of O pai^s, mon beau peuple, life is mean¬ ingless without complete obedience to religious acts, expressed through prayer and fasting. Sembene Ousmane captures the religious passion of the Senegalese Moslem at worship:

106

The Senegalese Novel

. . . the women surged forward from all sides and fell behind the men; then it was the turn of the little ones, and while directing them, the women repeated the same Koran verse that a few yards away their masters were chanting. With humility, they stooped and bent to the rhythm of the prayer; they stooped and rose, sitting on the floor with grace in a movement of perfect unison. (OP 23)

Moslem feasts punctuate several pages of Karim, and Maimouna. The “Tabaski,” for instance, is one such feast. It is the most important feast of the year during which a sheep is sacrificed, and the Moslems show off their most beautiful costumes and feast royally. Three Moslem priests, or marabouts, in the novels studied merit par¬ ticular attention because of the exceptional position they occupy in society and, especially, because of the therapeutic dimensions of their religious func¬ tions. The Teacher in Ambiguous Adventure belongs to that class of marabouts whose lives are based upon prayer and constant meditation on the Koran. According to Samba Diallo, the protagonist of the novel, Thierno always prays, “except when he works on the land” (AA 107). He is saintly. Serigne Massal of La Plaie by Malick Fall and Serigne Thierno in Mai¬ mouna are equally authentic in their religious life. But they are also diviners as well as healers. Thus, to their Moslem followers, they play roles that are similar to those played by traditional african healers. The marabout is venerated or feared depending on the degree of his knowledge. Serigne Massal, like some sorcerers (for example, Sanga Boto of Mongo Beti s Poor Christ of Bomba),^ has the reputation of being able to perform “miracles.” Serigne Massal, according to popular belief, could speak to the stars and transform wine to pure milk. His “talismans saved tens of patients condemn¬ ed by (white) doctors” (LP 148). On the other hand, Serigne Thierno “was enveloped in darkness and mystery” (MA 59) and the supernatural realities upon which he meditated often made it impossible for him to communicate with other men verbally. Like Serigne Massal he gives out talismans that cure sickness, and “safari,” or holy water, which banishes depression. Although Serigne Massal believes in the power of prayer to cure the sick, he does not neglect African pharmacopoeia. He often sent his clients to Khar-theAncient, who was renowned for his traditional medical science and whose ob¬ jective was ‘’daily to prove that the Africa of yesterday was not a mass of nonsense, the continent without culture and of thousands of years of bar¬ barism” (LP 156). It was finally he who healed “the man-with-the-wound,” the protagonist of the novel, Magamou. The Senegalese novel also signals the presence of some marabouts who

107

Religion

employ the same method as African sorcerers and who practice what is popularly known as “black magic.” Sirigne Elimnae in Maimouna and the Manding marabout in Nine are two examples. Like some traditional sorcerers, “they are men with a dangerous science always ready to take vengeance or to throw confusion into the ideas and sentiments of an in¬ dividual.” (NI 344) They can change the destiny of an individual as well as cause death or sickness. It was to one such Manding marabout that Sister Hfelene went so that Monsieur Martineau, a white administrator, would marry the young mulatto, Nini. The marabout called on the help of Allah, but went at the same time to consult “the spirits who decide, who never lied.” It is worth noting that in several respects Islam is well accommodated within the precincts of traditional religion and does not destroy the essence of animism. Thus, the traditional healer and the marabout agree in their therapeutics. The average Senegalese consults one or the other or both at the same time. When Maimouna became sick in Dakar her parents consulted a marabout and a sorcerer. According to the marabout, Maimouna was the vic¬ tim of dangerous spirits as well as the victim of tongues. (MA 162) For her cure he recommended, among other things, two talismans. On the other hand, the sorcerer observed that Maimouna and her parents had sacrificed nothing to the guiding spirits of Dakar since her arrival in the town. To save Maimouna he asked for an “animal with four legs, of a uniform wool, without blemish,” which would be sacrificed to the spirits of Dakar. Thus it is that the Senegalese use the gris-gris of the traditional healer as well as the talisman of the marabout. The one is as effective as the other and performs the same function. On this score, the venerable Hampat6 Ba made the following obser¬ vations: Islam being unable to suppress with a stroke the gris-gris Islamized it. How? It replaced with Koranic verses flanked by the names of the archangels and prophets such as Abraham, Moses, Joseph, Jesus, Mohammed, all the parts of animals which go into the mak¬ ing of the gris-gris. Islam, in order to whiten the animistic magic, very black in its eyes, created an erudite system which established sympathetic and magical correspondences on the one hand between the 28 letters with which the Koran is written and the rule of nature and on the other hand the cosmic forces sealed in the 28 abodes of the moon.

The marriage between Islam and animism in Senegal is obvious in other ways. In the matrimonial system, the Koran does not condemn polygamy but seems rather to encourage it. Many characters in the novels studied are

108

The Senegalese Novel

polygamous, such as Moussa Faye and his brother Amadou in O pays, mon beau peuple. Islam also has not destroyed sorcery, one of the components of the animist religion. The wife of Moussa, the Imam of a mosque, practices sorcery and consulted traditional medicine men to heal her son. In the field of initiation, many Moslem youths in Senegal still take part in the ceremony and spend weeks in sacred woods. Malick Fall, in La Plate, presents the per¬ sistence of this traditional custom. Circumcision is still practiced and the young Moslem, like many other children in Senegal, has to pass this test of manhood and courage. Islam, a bellicose religion, transformed itself into a religion of peace in Senegal. This is due largely to the pacific and flexible nature of animism, which preaches love, mutual help, solidarity and charity, especially to the stranger, who may be the incarnation of an ancestor. As Yaya Daro observed in Maimouna, “the food offered to the other is alms given to save the soul of a dead husband.” (MA 15) Briefly stated, then, Islam has not destroyed traditional African beliefs. The African Moslem goes to the mosque, prays to Allah, but has not completely renounced animism. Certain Senegalese writers believe that there is no fundamental dif¬ ference between the missionary and the colonizer, that both are united in their effort to conquer the African physically and spiritually and to “civilize” him. Of course, “civilized” in the colonial context also means not to be “pagan,” that is, to become Christian. In Ambiguous Adventure, the Toucouleurs refused at the beginning to send their children to the Catholic French school because they realized this would make the white conquest of their land permanent. The white man held the sword in one hand and the Bible in the other, they argued: The new school shares at the same time the characteristics of can¬ non and of magnet. From the cannon it draws its efficacy as an arm of combat. Better than the cannon, it makes conquest permanent. The cannon compels the body, the school bewitches the soul. Where the cannon has made a pit of ashes and of death, in the sticky mold of which men would not have rebounded from the ruins, the new school establishes peace. (AA 45) One is therefore not surprised that the revolutionary characters of VHarmattan, who are fighting for the political and cultural liberation of the African, regard the Church as an obstacle to progress. They condemn both the Catholic religion and its priests, who are perceived as instruments of family disunity as well as political and spiritual alienation. This attitude comes out clearly during the confrontations between Joseph Koeboghi, a Catholic parish priest, and Aguemon of Le Front, a marxist inspired political party. The

109

Religion

members of Le Front believe that religion is a personal matter, an opinion they share with many other characters of Sembene Ousmane’s novels, especially Oumar Faye of O pays, mon beau peuple. Oumar rejects not only Islam but also Christianity despite his marriage to a French woman. But it is Aguemon who comes into direct conflict with Christianity, who expresses openly and unequivocally his complete disenchantment with its principles and tenets under which it operates. Addressing the parish priest, Joseph Koeboghi, he demands: This enterprise of a secular priest corresponds to what? A driving belt of the most odious machinations of obscurantism. It is aliena¬ tion. Its intention is to create in every family a religious element, to block the awareness of our national dignity.’ (HA 155)

Aguemon does not believe in a heavenly paradise since it appears irrational to him. At the same time he does not believe that the priest could save the soul of his followers. The whole idea seems ridiculous to a non-believer: ‘. . . Why should we wait until death before enjoying life? And what right have you to save souls?’ (HA 155)

For the Church these words are impious, and Aguemon and his friends were stigmatized as “anti-religious” elements by it. Nevertheless, the Church strove to maintain its image as the saviour and civilizer of Africans, as expressed in these words by one of its leaders: ‘“We have a great role to play,’’ said Monseigneur. “It is like our ministers: If they fail, the country will fall into the hands of Moslems, barbarism, sorcery, and international communism. We have to be the guides, the advisors.’” (HA 143)

The rejection of Christianity by the entire membership of Le Front is categoric. There are, nonetheless, Senegalese Christians, but one is left with the impression that they were pushed by circumstances to become Christian and that they have not completely abandoned their traditional beliefs. This is what we learn from Tioumbe, the recalcitrant daughter of Joseph Koeboghi, speaking to Father Bernardy: ‘I said that Africans came to the Catholic religion as an act of docil¬ ity, through enslavement, and also because at the moment you possessed a better dispensary, and you will sacrifice every penny to corrupt people. You know very well that no mother will leave her son to die of sickness and if she takes her child to you it is because she does not know any other place to go. I am convinced that the

The Senegalese Novel

110

majority and 1 repeat it—the majority of your followers is no more Catholic than this mat (she showed the mat of the party) ... .You know very well that the Catholic religion has no strong foothold here.’ (HA 77)

Ousmane Soce had expressed similar ideas in Karim some twenty years before when he stated that ’‘the Catholic religion has not made much inroad into this part of Africa.” (KA 134) On the other hand, the Moslem religion “without missionaries continued to increase there where the Catholic religion was losing its membership.” (HA 144) Perhaps one should mention the contradictory situation in which the Senegalese Christian seems to be placed, as revealed by the ambiguous behavior of certain Catholic priests in L’Harmattan. Joseph Koeboghi, for in¬ stance, has three wives, while the Christian religion insists “one man one wife.” Another priest in the book confesses that he has three wives and that this disturbs his Christian conscience. This contradiction is the logical conse¬ quence of Christianity’s inability to adapt to local situations, as well as the con¬ tinued resistance of traditional to imported religions. The Senegalese Chris¬ tian, it appears, is both Christian and animist. Father Gravand, a Senegalese priest, has this to say about the sociological behavior of Serere Catholics: To conclude this sociological description of the behavior of the Catholic Serere, let us note simply his tendency to superimpose his new beliefs, his new moral obligations, upon the old ones. Thus the paternal totems which forbid, for example, those called Sem to eat rabbit, or a Diouf to eat antelope, or a Mdour to eat monkey, are obeyed by many to this time. Let us point out also that the liturgical ceremonies of baptism, marriage and funerals, are very often duplicated, in the regions recently Christianized, with correspond¬ ing traditional ceremonies.^

How can one explain this double religious comportment of the Christianized and Islamized Senegalese? Could one see it in the justification of this state¬ ment by Tioumbe to Father Bernardy: “You know very well that the Catholic religion has no foothold here.” It is evident that if religion is an attempt to find an answer to existential problems, the traditional Senegalese possesses without any doubt a religion. That is, he has a coherent philosophical system through which he tries to give a meaning to life and to situate himself in the universe. Within his religious world are values and norms which express and sustain his world view and which define his relationship with things and beings in the universe. These things and beings are animated by the same vital breath, and this explains this

Religion

111

unitary and vitalist visions of the world which characterizes the ontology of the animist. Because of the attempt to destroy his religious and philosophical world through imposition of imported religions and colonization, the African passed through a period of submission and hardship. Islam as well as Christianity promised the oppressed Senegalese material and spiritual salvation. “He who suffers today will be recompensed tomorrow in Heaven.” That was an assurance that the animist religion could not make. On the whole, suffering and the deprivation of colonization brought wisdom and compromise. Under the pressure of Islam and Christianity, the Senegalese temporarily and super¬ ficially abandoned his religion, waiting, as it were for the propitious moment to return to it. The anti-clericalism of many characters in the African novel could thus be explained by the fact that the imported religions, especially Christianity, did not seem to present any ontological and spiritual interest to the converts. Significantly, they did not represent much that is new in the religious ex¬ perience of the African. Ironically, the basic attraction for many was the material security they seemed to offer. This was the sentiment expressed by Zacharia, in Mongo Beti’s The Poor Christ of Bomba, to Reverend Father Drum on t, who was becoming dismayed at the loss of enthusiasm for his religion by the people of Tala: ‘I’ll tell you just how it is Father. Those of us who ran to the religion, to your religion, came to it as a sort of. . .revelation, that’s it, a revelation, a school where they could learn your secret, the secret of your power, of your aeroplanes and railways. . .in a word, the secret of your mystery. Instead of that, you began talking to them of God, of the soul, of eternal life, and so forth. Do you really sup¬ pose they didn’t know those things already, long before you came?’^° The result is that traditional religion is still practiced. The Moslem or Christian Senegalese swims between two religious currents: he goes to church or to the mosque, but does occasionally worship his ancestors. He is not bewitched by Islam or by Christianity. In the face of these two religions, old habits and practices remain firm. The modern Senegalese consults the tradi¬ tional religious healer, the marabout, or the priest, depending on the situa¬ tion.

^Colloque sur les religions, Abidjan, Auril, 1961, Paris, Presence Africaine, 1962, p. 232.

The Senegalese Novel

112

^Collogue sur les religions, Abidjan, Auril, 1961, Paris, Presence Africaine, 1962, p. 232, a religious symposium held in Abidjan, Ivory Coast in 1961 preferred the use of “traditional religions” to “animism” to designate African religions. ^George Parrinder, Mj^thologies africaines, Paris, ODEGE, 1969, p. 92. “B. Holas, Les Dieux d’Afrique noire, Paris, Paul Geuthner, 1968, pp. 164-165.

^Ibid., pp. 166-167. *Islam has been officially practiced in in Senegal since the 11th century. ^Mongo Beti, Le Pauure Christ de Bomba (Poor Christ of Bomba), Paris, Robert Laffont, 1956. ®M. Hampate Ba, “Islam et lAfrique noire," Collogue sur les religions, Abidjan, Auril,

1961, Paris, Presence Africaine, 1962, p. 232. ’Les religions africaines traditionelles, “Source de civilisation spirituelle," Collogue de Cotonou, 16-22 aout, 1961, Paris, Presence Africaine, 1967, p. 109. ‘"Mongo Beti, op cit., p. 56.

PART THREE

ASSIMILATION AND THE TRADITIONAL CULTURE Culture is the way you dress, the way you carry your head; it is the way you walk, the way you knot your tie — it is not only writing books and building houses. Aime Cesaire'

Chapter VII MUSIC We are men of dance whose feet regain strength after hitting the soil L.S. Senghor^

Music as a theme recurs often in the works of Senegalese novelists. Some characters from the traditional milieu perceive it as indispensable to life. Others endow it with a tonic effect, since it helps them to overcome the dreariness of a humdrum existence. Sadji and Sembene Ousmane present music as an important element in the development of the intrigue of the novel. Soce, in particular, presents several musical scenes in his diminutive epic novel, Karim, where romance and marriage form important thematic strands. One feels that Soce’s romantic comedy could not have been fully realized in an atmosphere not associated with music. This climate of love can be fully ap¬ preciated in its relation to the traditional milieu where every imaginable event is flavored with music. It is this milieu which controls the amorous behavior of Soce’s characters. For Karim, music exalts the passions of love. In addition, it opens up a perspective on the past which is recalled in all its grandeur and opulence by the “dialis” and griots. The latter are professional musicians, the “aedes” of traditional Senegalese society. Veteran artists of sound, they com¬ pose poems, lyrical songs, epics, and genealogical tales of families, ancient kingdoms, nations and the tribal groups. As Soce rightly observes, “In the vibrations of the strings of their guitar one sees again the history of all black nations.” (MP 85) Soce’s romantic world is one of leisure and gallantry, but a gallantry which would be incomplete without the sensuous power of music. Whenever Karim visits his girl friends, he is accompanied by a griot who intones a chant in which love themes, epic themes, and the exploits of Senegalese warriors interweave. Thus in Karim, Soce demonstrates that some traditional Senegalese music not only expresses emotion, but also records history: The guitarist tuned his instrument and started playing Sundiata. Everybody kept quiet. The discreet sounds unrolled in a rhythmical cavalcade, aping the military march of King Sundiata. . . a mixture

116

The Senegalese Novel

of something melancholic, majestic and heroic. Listening to it, your imagination takes you back to the era when African kings put all their honor and pride in one word: “conquer!” (KA 24)

This music, with its polyphonic texture and its strong harmonic basis, recalls not only the mythical qualities associated with the Senegalese “epic,” but also the life style of a whole generation. It is fluid, subtle and evocative, with a quiet expressive force. Soce presents other kinds of Senegalese music in Karim. One is the “sabar,” a noble but serious hymn which, in the past, was used to welcome victorious Senegalese warriors. (KA 45) There is also the “back” through which the griot requests compensation for his services. And there is soft music for dining, and also for the listening pleasure of lovers. In addition, there is music which accompanies the dance. Some may call this the true African music, true in the sense that Africans tend to associate music with dancing. Certain songs are invariably associated with feasts, births, funerals, marriages or initiations. Soce presents frequent dancing perfor¬ mances in Karim, in which both the young and the old execute traditional dances. These are actually competitions during which the various dancers ex¬ hibit their talents in order to win a prize. Marieme, Aminata and Karim, characters in Soce’s novel, as well as Sadji’s Maimouna, are outstanding in their performances. In the following passage, Sadji illustrates the execution of the traditional “sabar;” The “sabar,” turned towards a point in the circle, called more loud¬ ly, insistingly. A young girl leaped into the circle, courageous. The griot met her with eagerness. She pranced, throwing out first one leg, then the other, all the while stretching out her arms, circling about slowly. Her shoulders rolled, her bent body jerked and her moving rear arched out and pulled in. She gave the impression of wanting to turn and run, sometimes to the right, sometimes to the left. It was the ‘y^ba,’ a dance full of grace and hints. Soon everyone was dancing in groups of two or three or more. (MA 36)

Dancing in Senegal, as elsewhere in Africa, is a communal activity. The young and the old take part in it. Those who do not participate actively, clap their hands, or shake their bodies to the intoxicating rhythms of the tam-tam. Sometimes the irresistable melody of the music draws the onlookers to the dancing circle prepared for young girls, as in this example, taken from Sadji’s Maimouna: Then, the grown-ups, spoilers of party, joined the dancing. The young, despite their desire to remain mistresses of the occasion, despite their eagerness to equal them, are often momentarily eclipsed. (MA 36)

Music

117

Dancing here is a real feast. It is a tellurian dance, where the bare feet ham¬ mer the earth in response to the tantalizing rhythm of the tam-tam melody. It is not the type of erotic dance found in the West. Here, we are talking of a dance where expression and gesticulation predominate, where emotion, at the expense of intellect, takes over completely. The participants forget themselves in the dance and become one with it. Every dancer is not a good dancer. But the best dancers here are masters of sound, movement and time. The absence of a long written tradition has enhanced the African’s oral/aural perception, refining it into sensuous body movements, incorporating sound and rhythm. The sounds of the tam-tam are not only heard in the rural areas. The tam-tam is found in Louga as well as Dakar. Maimouna ever continues to im¬ prove her dancing techniques. At Dakar, she is proclaimed “L’Etoile de Dakar,” the vedette of the traditional Senegalese dance. At the village of Louga she excells in dancing and attracts the jealousy of her rivals. But danc¬ ing in Dakar was no longer perceived as a mere traditional exercise performed for pleasure but was becoming commercialized. To see traditional dancing performances it was now necessary to pay. What role did music play in the traditional Senegalese society? For an answer, let us turn to Sadji, who ascribes didactic and therapeutic functions to it. He writes: Among blacks, music is transmitted and conserved marvellously. The young black girl does not have to learn the airs she will sing later. She is born with the scale. These airs develop, imposing themselves on her spirit, depending on her age, and the needs of her body and heart. She sings them, hums them or murmurs them while working. Nothing ought to stop their blossoming. The black woman has to exhale in short and sweet complaints the great pain of feeling the passage of the day, the sadness of death, the in¬ vulnerability of the forces of nature, the vanity of everything here on earth. And on the other hand, she has to sing the praises of the ancestors, which nourish the valor of today’s men, inspire the behavior of honest girls, and, indeed, the beauty and nobility of thejr lovers. (MA 18) In addition, music, especially dancing music, hastens the socializing process of the child. Through the dance, practiced and performed with others, the Senegalese child is introduced to group life and is on his or her way to sharing the experiences of community living. Through such meetings the child also comes to know his/her neighbors and relatives. It is usually through such associations that first friendships are made and the warmth of inter-personal

118

The Senegalese Novel

relationships felt. Through esoteric dances, such as those danced during the initiation ceremony, the child is made aware of the social systems of his com¬ munity. Music also helps in the accomplishment of work. It distracts the spirit from the difficulties and pains of labor. Here, there is a'link between economic and psychological functions. Music helps the Senegalese to fight against the weariness of existence. People do not only sing when they are happy, but also when they are sad, oppressed, or poor. In this context, music has the same function for the Senegalese as the ‘Blues’ did for the Afro-Americans on the plantations. Sembene Ousmane’s female characters, the victims of painful and difficult tasks, find relief in the songs they improvise as they accomplish their work: Existence had taught them to sing, in order to deceive reality. In a chorus, these women sang as during the time of excision and it was a song which expressed not joy, but suffering; it started where it finished, since it was the incarnation of misery, and their misery never ended. (OP 109-110) It is in this manner that singing becomes an antidote to oppression, an elixir which sustains life. Singing for the suffering woman has become a way of sur¬ vival, a means to adumbrate the effects of her spiritual and physical fatigue. In Senegal, as well as other parts of Africa, music, especially work songs, has always been associated with this spiritual-cum-physical fatigue relief function. An African musicologist, J.B. Obama, once observed that “there is no collec¬ tive work, no building construction, no clearing of land for cultivation. . which is done without the aid of music. As a matter of fact, it could be said that singing was one of the most important strategies of survival which helped black people, in general, to survive colonization and slavery. But there are changes and adaptations in the musical arena which are captured by novelists and reflected in the Senegalese novel. These changes result from the social evolution of the country, which in turn, influences the attitude and behavior of some of the fictional characters we have been discussing, especially those in urban settings. Performances of tam-tam music, as the novels indicate, are still carried out in Dakar and Saint-Louis, but they are restricted by the French Administration to the “quartiers in¬ digenes,” where a majority of the tradition-oriented people live. But, accord¬ ing to Soce, these Senegalese play with a new kind of tam-tam, called the

Sabit, since “the real tam-tam disturbed the tranquility of the night and the sleep of Europeans. Some of the emancipated indigenes found it too

Music

119

backward, and so, those Senegalese who could not do w'ithout their tradi¬ tional pastime found this compromise which satisfied everybody.” (KA 84)"* Apart from the modified tam-tam, other forms of music are infiltrating the cities of Senegal. Some are Western in origin, and many Senegalese en¬ joy listening to them and dancing to their rhythm. Mozart and Bach appeal to their classical tastes while the hot rhythms of the tango draw them to the dancing floor. An illustration is provided by Ousmane Soce through his character named Abdou, a Moslem with oriental tastes. But he has been educated in the French school and, therefore, is also influenced by Western culture which he has come to admire: He was an embodiment of contrasts. He could dance the tam-tam as well as the tango; he liked African music, and African girls, but dreamt also of Deauville, Paris and of a certain cinema vedette, a blond Venus. (KA 105)

Change in musical taste and style is again revealed in a ball organized by the Catholic church in Goree. In this connection it is important to mention the Africanizing adaptations of the various churches in Senegal, where “some of the circumcision songs have found a place in the Catholic liturgy.”^ Adapta¬ tions have also been recorded in chanting and dancing in the church. The Western style music mentioned in Karim includes the fox trot, the waltz, and the one-step. These were played at the ball organized by the Catholic church. The sociological connotations of this musical change are made manifest in the kind of dress people wear for dancing. While dancing to the music of the tam¬ tam, one only has to wear the boubou and the loin-cloth, but while doing the Western-style dance {foxtrot, waltz, and one-step) played on European in¬ struments (accordion, mandolin, violin, and banjo), the Senegalese put on European dress. Soce observes: “Some Moslems, semi-conservators, who ordinarily wore the boubou and the fez, put on this evening their lounge suit, in order to dance without being out of place.” (KA 112) The orchestra, on the other hand, played not only foreign music, but from time to time indigenous airs, like the goumbe, during which the couples danced freely apart. Sadji records the nature of the musical change in the society of SaintLouis, the setting of Nini. Here society is divided into three hierarchical classes: the whites, the mulattoes and the indigenes. Three nightclubs exist to satisfy and accommodate the musical taste of each group. The Westernoriented Nini and her friends go to the “Cercle Civil” from which blacks are barred. “The blacks of Saint-Louis,” writes Sadji, “continue to dance to the rhythm of their tam-tam every evening.” (NI 378) The emancipated

120

The Senegalese Novel

Senegalese dance at the “Saint-Louisian Club,” a meeting place for Africans and West Indians. In these Western-oriented clubs traditional airs and rhythms are excluded. The dance style is also different. “People dance in pairs, chest against chest, and breath against breath.” (NI 318) Nevertheless, the Senegalese does not find the rhumba, the samba or the tango played at the Saint-Louisian Club very different from the rhythms of his traditional dancing music. This is because these forms of music trace their origin and in¬ spiration to an African source. Essentially, therefore, they are not completely foreign to Senegalese musical sensibilities. The tantalizing rhythm that they share with African music constitutes a common denominator. This syn¬ copated rhythm is to be found in the Senegalese khalam, in the Cuban rhum¬ ba, and in the Afro-American jazz, and this has led to the acceptance and adaptation of these latter forms of music, not only in Senegal, but also other parts of Africa. Soce and Sadji have therefore rightly insisted on the musical relationship between all black people and on the influence of African music on other musical forms. The appropriation of African and African-inspired music by Westerners is one of the important cultural phenomena that have attracted the attention of ethnomusicologists. In the United States of America, for ex¬ ample, a process of musical revitalization, stylistic and otherwise, has been going on for decades, so much so that the influence of African music on American music has become very obvious: It is simply incontestable that year by year, American popular music has come to sound more and more like African popular music. The rhythmic complexity and subtlety, the emphasis on percussive sound qualities, the call-and-response pattern, the characteristic vocal elements (shout, growl, falsetto, and so on), blues chromaticism, blues and gospel chord progression, Negro vocabulary, Afro-American dance steps—all have become increas¬ ingly prominent in American music. If empirical evidence is wanted, simply turn on the radio or television or sample the best¬ selling records of the day and you will be immersed in the results of the appropriation-revitalization process.*

The acculturation occurring in the musical domain, therefore, proves very in¬ teresting and revealing. Rhythm remains the forte of the African musical structure and accounts for much of the resistance against assimilation. It is the rhythmic substructure which absorbs and transforms Western musical ingre¬ dients which come into direct contact with African music. The modern Senegalese youth loves the “rhythm and blues” of the Afro-

Music

121

American, as well as the West Indian rhumba. A visit to some of the night¬ clubs in Dakar reveals the preeminence of these musical forms. Outside Senegal (and especially abroad), the Senegalese tend to go dancing in those clubs that offer them music most related to their own. We see it in Mirages de Paris. Soon after his arrival in Paris, Fara visits the “Coliseum” where he can find music with an African beat. Again, to console him after the death of his girlfriend, Fara’s friends take him to a jazz concert featuring the famous Duke Ellington. At the end of the performance, Fara muses over the power of the African rhythm: The talent of black musicians, he thought, was in their art of the rhythm of life. (. . .). There are rhythms which make time rapid or slow, bright or sombre. Rhythms which make time sugary like the tasting of tender words; there are others which make time bitter. (MP 166) It is obvious, then, that traditional Senegalese music has not been assimilated by French music. The rhythm of the tam-tam is to be heard in the village as well as the city. The Senegalese youth remains an enthusiastic ad¬ mirer of the Afro-American music whose African origin is underscored by its strong rhythmical structure. Western musical forms are appreciated in their own right, but this appreciation has not led to the rejection of Senegalese or other African music. 'Presence Africaine, nos. 8-10, Paris, 1956, p. 225. ^From “Priere aux Masques” (“Prayer to the Masks”), Poems, p. 24. ^“La

musique

africaine

traditionnelle:

ses

fonctions

sociales

et

sa

signification

philosophique,” Abbia, nos. 12-13, 1966, p. 292. “The Sabit is a sort of tam-tam, but one which is made from metallic objects rather than the conventional wood. ^Henry Gravand, “Di^namisme severe dans le Senegal moderne,” in Afrique Document, 105-106, 5e et 6e cahier, 1969, p. 313. ^Charles Keil, Urban Blues, Chicago, The University of Chicago Press, 1966, p. 46.

)lfih ifim -mZ •Ni

, t f It

♦

«

/

Chapter VIII FASHION One of the aesthetic functions of literature derives from its quest to re¬ spond to some of the yearnings of man for that which is verbally pleasing and emotionally satisfying. All aesthetic endeavors are in essence pleasure oriented. Man himself receives different aesthetic sensations and possesses various organs for perceiving them. For instance, he enjoys the beauty of prose, poetry and music through specific forms of sound waves which are captured by his ears. Visual arts also satisfy our aesthetic drives, through our response and reaction to what we see. The beauty—or the absence of it—in any form of clothing or a particular dress and the aesthetic pleasure or displeasure its perception gives us, is a combination of our visual reaction to lights, shadows, and colors, and of the relationship between lines and forms. In both forms of art, that is literary and visual, and if I may stretch it further, performing, are embedded various stimuli that can yield pleasurable responses, advance our aesthetic sensations, and confirm our culturally and emotionally based responses to the beautiful. Senegalese writers have often blended the aesthetic worth of the written word with its visual counterparts by providing a graphic description of the dress of their various characters as a literary technique to enhance their sub¬ ject matter. Dress as a reflection of culture becomes important to them in understanding human behavior and in analyzing certain aspects of societal tendencies. In the context of immediate interest to me—that is, the effect of the assimilationist policy of France on the totality of the Senegalese culture a character’s clothing helps illuminate that individual’s behavior, social tenden: cies, background and mood. The characters of Ousmane Soce and Abdoulaye Sadji are often dressed in the Moslem tradition showing individual tastes and caprices. Those of Sembene Ousmane, on the other hand, are astride traditionalism and mod¬ ernism. Some dress to reveal their newly acquired social status, others to por¬ tray their professional or religious affiliations. In presenting the portraits of their characters, the writers include make-up and other bodily adornments which heighten the beauty of dress and emphasize the form, line and color. The choice of a particular dress is often linked to specific events; feasts, religious celebrations or visits to friends. Thus dress in Senegal has an impor-

The Senegalese Novel

124

N’Gor Island

Pikine

Airport

The Almadie

The Mameiles^

Ouakam

Hann Bay

Fann Point Soumb^c«ii ^orie Island

Madaleinas Islands

tite Comiche

Cap Manuel

0

10

20

i_j_I

30 i ,

40

50 km

. I-1

tant psychological and sociological significance. It is a language or, according to Roland Barthes, “un systeme de signification”^ which underlies vestiary tastes, personal attitudes and cultural modifications.

Fashion

125

The portrayal of nudity is ostensibly absent from the contemporary novel in Senegal. Yet the body, considered in itself, has its own aesthetic appeal. It has its own shape, color and lines that define its total picture and qualify it as a work of art in itself. The absence of the nude may be explained by the fact that the characters chosen for examination by the authors belong to a new society or group which believes that nudity is no longer an acceptable alternative to the clothed body. It might also be explained by the fact that, unlike the an¬ cient Greek who took great pleasure in exposing his nakedness, the Senegalese no longer take pride in protraying the beauty of their naked bodies. The authors themselves, who are expressing the sensibility of the up¬ per middle class to which they belong, might be unconsciously or consciously reacting to the colonial image of the African as a “naked ape.” But in acting against the colonial stereotype, they did not lose touch with the sense of cultural accommodation, specifically that clothing is a cultural device which responds to multiple external and internal variables. One variable is underscored in this portrayal of the Westernized N’deye Touti in Gods Bits of Wood: (She) was a lovely girl of about twenty, in the full bloom of youth and health. Her skin was shiny smooth, and so black that it seemed almost blue. Her most striking features, though, were her eyes—shadowed by long, thick lashes—and her full, finely drawn mouth. Her lower lip had been slightly darkened with antimony. Her hair was carefully braided into a little crown at the top of her head, revealing a clear, high forehead. She was wearing a simple, one-piece dress, gathered in at the waist and cut low across the shoulders. Her breasts, in a brassiere that was a little too tight, clung boldly to the material. (GBW 94-95)

Of course, I need not belabor the point—the overall aesthetic qualities of any dress must be seen in relation to the body which wears it. The color and tex¬ ture of the body, plus its value contacts, all help to enhance the total visual ef¬ fect of the dress. But this is only one level of possible interpretation. The sociological and psychological insights the foregoing passage provides are also significant in understanding N’deye’s character. N’deye s accommoda¬ tion with Western culture is exemplified by her one-piece dress and her brassiere, even though, as the author indicates, covering the breasts with a brassiere by a young girl of N’deye’s age was frowned upon by the older women of the society. (GBW 106) N’deye uses clothing for ego enhance¬ ment. She dresses to set herself apart and to establish her experience as an in¬ dividual to both herself and to others;

126

The Senegalese Novel

N’deye, as everyone called her, was pretty, and she knew very well the stir she caused among all the boys in the district. Before the strike, she had gone to the teachers training school, which gave her a considerable advantage over the boys, but at the same time made her the public scribe for the whole neighborhood. And it was hard to fill out tax forms, and write letters applying for jobs, and even love letters, for all of your family and friends without beginning to feel more and more remote from them. She lived in a separate world; the reading she did, the films she saw, made her part of a universe in which her own people had no place, and by the same token she no longer had a place in theirs. (GBW 106) To dress very appropriately becomes for N deye a means of social distan¬ cing between her and her people, a veritable proof of what she calls her

ap¬

proach to civilization.” (GBW 107) Her gestures and dress carry a nonverbal message, a way of self-explanation and self-identification. N’deye Touti is a transitional character, an euoluee who uses dress for cultural uplifting. Other characters such as Karim, Marieme and Maimouna are more traditional. All three characters are portrayed as individuals who dress with precise taste and reflect the fashion of the colonial era. Saint-Louis, the town in which Marieme and Karim live, is a society which dresses in the Moslem tradition. The first time we meet Karim he is preparing to visit a friend, and he is appropriately dressed, wearing:

spacious cotton trousers which resemble the ones worn by the Algerians; on top of a white dress with a silky dickey he donned a rich boubou. He had his Turkish slippers on. (KA 21) Feasts are important social functions in Senegal and people dress richly and elegantly for them. The clothes worn are resplendent of the joys and pleasures of the festive occasion. Thus during the feast of Tabaski,

carefully

described in the novel, it is the traditional Moslem dress which predominates. Karim and his friends are dressed in the same style:

They wore dyed boubous, the “palmanes” whose blue-black color matched the purple brightness of the setting sun. Their fez and their dresses exuded a rare fragrance. (KA 41) The boubou (an embroidered cloth outer garment akin in some ways to the Roman toga, and usually draped over one shoulder) is the most important ar¬ ticle of dress for the ladies as well. The women display a formalism in fashion which is in part a reflection of individual taste and partly identification with the flow of the nation’s vestiary tides. In ordinary life their dress leaves a perma-

Fashion

127

nent impression on the observer. In this passage from Karim, they dress sim¬ ply to please: The ladies wore their most beautiful dresses; white muslim boubous, green silky boubous, chocolate colored boubous. There were other kinds of boubous, excellent works of geometrical design made by the needles of Saint-Louisians, and perfectly dyed in in¬ digo by the mamas during the long months. (KA 43)

The traditional boubou is not the only dress worn by Senegalese women. They also wear the dressing jacket {la camisole), and what is inappropriately called loincloth (an inner, fairly large garment, something like a petticoat or chemise). This is the dress worn by Marieme, Karim’s girl friend, when we first meet her: (She) was wearing a dressing jacket, with puffed sleeves, reaching to the elbows. From beneath the embroidery emerged brickcolored hands, smooth and satin-like, with delicate wrists, full of bracelets.... (KA 22)

The Senegalese woman pays particular attention to what she wears. She is very sensitive to color and visual harmony. Dressing is perceived as a form of art—albeit a form of ornamental art, the product of hard work, experience and imagination. The ultimate aim is, as always, to please and to enhance the image of the woman. Starting at a very early age, the young girl is taught the various techniques of dressing, with emphasis on form and harmony. Each home is, in essence, a fashion laboratory in its own right, where beautiful things are made. Let us follow Marieme’s dressing in order to better grasp the importance of fashion in Senegal: The family trunk where luxurious dresses were stored was opened. [Marieme] enveloped herself from the hips to the ankle with three layers of chemises; on top of these she wore a fourth cloth, thick and of very rich colors. She put on an embroidered dressing jacket, a silk chocolate colored boubou bought by Karim and a pair of golden slippers. Around her neck was a leather string at the tip of which hung on the level of her breasts, some jewels. ... Her fingers and toes were painted with henna in the Eastern style. Her wrists were encircled with golden bracelets and her ankles with silver rings. (KA 43-44)

In Abdoulaye Sadji’s novel we perceive a similar rite of dressing. The chemise, the dressing jacket and the boubou constitute the essential costumes in the village of Louga as well as in the city of Dakar. The prevalent fashion in

The Senegalese Novel

128

the Saint-Louis of Soce can be found in the Dakar of Sadji. The women of Dakar also wear the boubou, “silk boubous, gauze boubous, boubous of “palmane,” perforated dressing jackets, velvet, jewels and precious gems.” (MA 92) As in Saint-Louis, the older women in Dakar and Louga help the younger ones perfect their techniques of dressing in order to enhance their beauty. In the following passage, Yaye Daro helps her daughter put on her chemise: Yaye Daro started to dress her little Mai who had just had a careful bath. She took out from the grey trunk a small red striped cloth, a gauze blouse with uncut sleeves and a voluminous white boubou, with a golden embroidered collar. The cloth was methodically tied around the waist of Maimouna. Yaye Daro adjusted it the best she could and fixed it with a head tie folded into a belt. She examined the extreme ends of the cloth and made sure that they fell accor¬ ding to the fashion of the time. Next, she brought out a gauze dress¬ ing jacket, stiff and light like a starched butterfly. She spread the folded sleeves, opening it from below. . . . Maimouna put in her head and hands, struggled within it, and then emerged. Yaye Daro pulled here and there on the jacket which finally lost its stiffness. The spacious white boubou, carefully folded, spread out in front and behind her golden embroideries in geometric forms. The watered patterns of the material, smoothened by a careful ironing descended in parallel lines, shining like large silver rays. (MA 34-35) The search for beauty and perfection is evident here. The art is demanding and exacts much patience both from the artist and the “client.” In the forego¬ ing passage the operation is learnedly executed. The impression is that of an artist, a painter at his work. Every Senegalese woman has to master this technique of dressing if she is to follow the fashion of her time. Since fashion varies from time to time, the technique of dressing varies also, reflecting individual tastes and group tendencies. Each woman shows her personal preferences and prejudices. Soon Yaye Daro and her daughter Maimouna no longer agree on the prevalent fashion. Maimouna finds her mother’s tastes depasse. Rihanna, Maimouna’s elder sister who lives in Dakar, disagrees with both her mother and her sister in matters concerning fashion. She considers their taste provincial. As soon as Maimouna arrives in Dakar, Rihanna sets out to transform her into a city girl through new clothes. In Dakar the same clothing is worn as in Louga, but the style of dressing is more recherche, refined and sophisticated. Compare, for instance, the dress of Maimouna in the following passage with what we saw in the previous one:

Fashion

129

For inner dress (she wore) a gauze boubou with a circular neck so that the shoulder and breasts were visible; then above that an im¬ maculate white cloth and on top of it another boubou spotted red and green like the artificial flowers which adorned her hair. (MA 87)

The other ornaments which enhance the beauty of Maimouna’s dress are simpler and less complicated in their form.

I believe the foregoing analysis has amply established that in the tradi¬ tional Moslem fashions, city, or country, were predominant in colonial Senegal. But the novels also document vestiary changes due to the influence of the West. These transformations are especially evident in the urban areas among the educated men and women. Western style dress—blue jeans, shoe-string ties, cowboy belts, fancy boots, bras and women’s hose are found in the shops and markets in Saint-Louis and Dakar. The N’deye Toutis of Sembene Ousmane, the Ninis and Nanas of Abdoulaye Sadji and even the Karims of Soce are fascinated by Western-style clothes. Very often the im¬ ported fashions compete with the classic African boubou, as is revealed in the following passage from Soce’s Karim: It’s midnight; in the streets of Dakar, the passers-by were becoming rarer. Young men in their large dark boubous, well perfumed, were going

home

from

their

friends’

houses;

others,

educated

Senegalese, were coming out from cinema houses or from balls, dressed in their lounge suits. (KA 86)

Several characters are caught between the two dressing traditions and their inner conflicts and values are reflected in their manner of dressing. Bakayoko, the enigmatic character of Sembene Ousmane’s God’s Bits of Wood, is a progressive who leads a group of workers in their fight for economic emancipation of their country. Although he believes in the mod¬ ernization of Senegal, he nonetheless favors cultural revivalism which will promote the use of Wolof rather than French in the administration of the country. He is against polygamy, but supports the workers fighting for in¬ creased family allowances which the French Administration believe will lead to more polygamous families. He himself is the husband of his late brothers wife, thus keeping alive the levirate tradition. Such is Bakayoko. This ideological and moral aspect of the man is carried into his taste in clothing, as we can see in the following passage:

130

The Senegalese Novel

On entering the house. Bakayoko had placed his short upper tunic, of the type called a froc, in a corner with his walking stick and pack, and now he was wearing only a pair of white trousers, striped in black. His soft sandals were the kind worn by Peul shepherds, with leather straps that laced high on the ankles. A straw hat with a wide brim to shade his eyes from the sun hung down across his back, supported by the thong knotted beneath his chin. (GBW 262)

Judging by his manner of dressing, Bakayoko is not an Assimile, despite the influence of the West. Nor is D’deye Touti, the most Westernized of Sembene Ousmane’s characters. She still wears the traditional dressing jacket, though wearing the Western-style brassiere. The same compromise in costume is observed in the tastes of Bounama, a fairly modest character in Sadji’s Maimouna. Bounama is an ardent Moslem who lives in Dakar in a house which is decorated partly according to Arabic tastes and partly according to European. Although he does not detest Western dress, he frowns upon those young Senegalese who always dress in suits. Occasionally he wears his lounge-suits (for instance, when he goes to the cinema) but usually he wears a boubou. Ousmane Soce’s portrayals show that the dress worn by his characters constitutes a measuring rod of their mental evolution and cultural alienation. Karim amply demonstrates this point. While in Saint-Louis, Karim often wears the traditional boubou. But when in Dakar there is a noticeable change in his manner of dressing, caused partly by his association with Ibnou and Abdoulaye, and partly by the books he had been reading. Ibnou, Karim’s cousin, studies philosophy in high school, while Abdoulaye teaches at the Ecole Normale in Goree. Both show their social evolution, if not cultural alienation, through their discussion and behavior, but above all, through their dress and social acquaintances; Ibnou and Abdoulaye wore flannel suits, delicate shirts, multi¬ colored silk ties. They brushed their hair to make it spread much better. And they left for the homes of their girlfriends, some elegant Senegalese dressed in European costumes. (KA 72)

On cultural matters Abdoulaye, the teacher, is a strong partisan of mix¬ ing cultures, of “cultural metissage,” a theory favored by many Senegalese in¬ tellectuals of the period. But let us get back to Karim. His stay in Dakar leaves its mark on him, even though that mark turns out to be superficial and tem¬ porary. Influenced by his environment, Karim reads Western literature and his efforts soon bear fruit. His intellectual deviations are accompanied by vestiary changes and, thus.

131

Fashion

The former boubous and the Moslem fez used previously were abandoned and replaced with a lounge suit and with a sun helmet. (KA 72)

The Turkish slippers were replaced with shoes and multi-colored ties. It is the battle between the boubou and Western dress. But with Karim the battle did not persist for long. As soon as he returned to Saint-Louis, he “abandoned his European costume in favor of his Senegalese clothes.” (KA 145) This conflict in fashion responds adequately to spatial and environmental differences; what is worn and when it is worn seems to be determined also by where one is and where he is going. An educated Senegalese wearing the boubou in the morning could be seen in the evening wearing a suit and tie. A combination of the boubou and the tie as an outfit is not a rare sight either, although this is more of a Nigerian phenomenon than a Senegalese one. As Soce carefully observed: It is equally peculiar to wear the boubou in a society dressed in Western style as well as to put on suits, foreign and without majes¬ ty, in a society dressed in the Moslem tradition. (KA 145)

That Soce is against this kind of cultural melange is brought out forcefully in this citation. It may be significant here to recall the observation made by Lamine Gueye, the former president of the Senegalese House of Assembly: Even up to simple matters concerning clothing the youth in Africa express the desire to identify with a past and a tradition which, to them, is as valid as any other. Whence this craze for the chemise, the boubou, turban donned with elegance by members of both sexes, most of whom, the previous day, might have been dressed in clothes made by the most reputed tailors in Paris, London and New York.^

The dress of Sadji’s Nini responds to psychological imperatives connected with racial compensation. For Nini and the other mulatresses in Saint-Louis, dress is an instrument of cultural adhesion and membership into the white world. Nini, not surprisingly, is always a la mode, making sure her wardrobe and her personal appearance reflect the latest fashion in Paris. This is how Sadji presents her during an evening party: Nini arrives like every other person. She is in a gown whose materials and cut is of the latest style. She has white gloves and is wearing shoes spangled with silver. A small hat, dainty and t jrjj^j ^ of a style unknown in Saint-Louis, resembling a bronze to que, was on top of her blond-dyed hair. (NI 314). 5

055

The Senegalese Novel

132

Sadji apparently classifies Saint-Louis society according to the clothes worn by its inhabitantsiv There are young girls with bronze complexion, beautiful in their blue woolen wigs—the latest fashion—walking about in their silk boubous, a white chewing stick between their teeth. (NI 297)

There are also young black boys wearing shirts “with detachable collars and ties.” There are some men who wear boubous and others the tuxedo. Gowns, shoes, stockings, belts and hats seem reserved for the whites and the mulattoes. The Saint-Louis of Sadji, unlike the sSaint-Louis of Soce, is a veritable melting pot where traditional and Western-style costumes compete for a place of honor. The clothes worn by some of the characters I have presented in this analysis are destined not only to cover the body and protect against the wind and the sun but also to serve as ornaments. Thus when clothing ceases to per¬ form this purely utilitarian role, efforts to maximize its decorative function are increased. In Senegal and in other parts of Africa, the human body is sometimes decorated with various coloring elements. Rihanna and her sister Maimouna spend hours beautifying their fingernails and their toes. The latter are painted with henna. Teeth are always cleaned and the chewing stick has not only a hygienic significance but also an aesthetic one. It is very common to find beautifully dressed Senegalese women with a chewing stick between their teeth. In some parts of the country scarification and tattooing form part of the quest for beauty and adornment. Similarly, hairdressing is an art which is seriously practiced. If the men wear hats or comb their hair, the women usually have theirs properly done. There are different kinds of hairdos for dif¬ ferent occasions. The “diere” and the “dondaje” seem to be the most popular. When executed by a gifted artist, the latter presents “the aspect of an open book whose pages are made up of various parts of a profusion of black queues tied at their extreme ends,” as Sadji notes. It is the ensemble of this coiffure with numerous jewels (bracelets and earrings) which heightens the beauty of the generously ample boubou and well crafted chemise. These in turn contribute immensely to the majestic beauty and elegance of the Senegalese women of Sadji and Soce.

On the basis of the foregoing the following observations seem to emerge. In fashion, the European is not altogether the reference group for the Senegalese masses. The modern Senegalese boutiques are indeed filled with

Fashion

133

clothes from the haute couture establishments of France; nonetheless, the boubou is the style which largely dominates, especially in the rural Islamized areas. It has a special appeal for women.^ As the national dress it reflects the spirit of the people, defining the Senegalese in the mobility and fluidity of their nation’s social stream. It allows the individual to say who he is and places him in relation to others. In it individual and public tastes, merge producing signifi¬ cant national styles and projecting the spirit of an era. Thus the boubou and chemise represent more than a streak of conservatism in Senegalese cultural life. They help provide a sense of continuity and stability in a situation where the old is not displaced or discarded but is simply added to the new. The battle of the boubou and the tie is far from over, and future trends are hard to pin down. The penchant of the younger generation for Western style dress tends to disappear with maturity, when self-conscious efforts are made to curb the ever present weight of Western education and culture. But curbing its influence does not spell the end of the impact of Western culture. Future developments promise, therefore, to be interesting for the student of dress and literature and merit close attention. Sadji, Soce and Sembene Ousmane have captured through fashion the essence of an era, mirroring stability and change, tradition and innovation, in a highly mobile society. 'Sysfeme de la mode. Paris, Seuil, 1967, p. 8. ^Itineraire Africain, Paris, Presence Africaine, 1968, pp. 82-83. ^National fashion competitions among women in Senegal are based on the boubou style of dress.

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"■T ' ’■ k riot Ortly class ahddribal hationalism,'but also lidctrin'al hatibnalism j ’a unify- ■ , ~:9l’V/.6 ing element, which^makes the struggle of the colonized people a world .struggle.,,q.|

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' ■ Mamadou Dia'

VHarmattan, Sembene Ousmane’s fourth novel is the first truly political novel from Senegal. It goes beyond economic and cultural protest to concen¬ trate on the issue of national independence for Senegal. The novel is an analysis of the referendum held in the former French territories of West Africa in 1958 in which these territories had to choose between complete and in¬ tegral independence from France and a limited independence, or association, within the French Community. Ousmane narrates the'circumstances of the referendum as he puts the partisans of complete political autonomy against an indigenous bourgeoisie interested in association with France and the French Community. Le Front, an African Marxist-oriented party, gathers withip its umbrella all elements, associations and organizations which are against the “Communi¬ ty.” To combat its opponents the party embraces the ideology of scientific socialism and dialectic materialism. Its aim is to Africanize this Marxist philosophy, adapting it to African needs and thereby building “an African socialist state which would have nothing to do with other methods.” (HA 49) The party therefore decides to direct'its appeal to the masses and plans to educate them according to the principles of scientific socialism with the help of a handful of its enlightened members. The most important of these members are Tioumbe, Leye, Koffi and Sori.’The “party-less” Dr.,Tangara sympathizes with the militant Marxists but refuses to join the party formally. His observa¬ tion on the desired African socialism illuminates the political philosophy and strategy of Le Front: We shall adapt the Marxist science to our political, economic and cultural situation. But at the beginning it will not only be necessary to know in depth the dialectic materialism of Marx and Lenin; the masses must also make it its working tool. (HA 50)

It is from this perspective that Le Front mounts its campaign against the

136

The Senegalese Novel

Gaullist Community. During a chance meeting between the Prime Minister of the country (which we identify with Senegal) and Leye at the residence of Dr. Tangara, a serious political debate ensues. With a Marxist analysis of the economic situation of the country, Leye demolishes'the arguments of the Prime Minister, pointing out that the economic and political alienation of the people is due to the exploitation of the country by France and her African middlemen who constitute the bourgeois class. Independence, Leye argues, is the only answer to the people’s political frustration and the economic ills. For Tamban Youssido, the Prime Minister, however, the economic, social and political conditions of the country make it imperative to remain within the security of the French Community. He repeats the same cliche-ridden argu¬ ment that imperialists used to oppose African aspiration to independence; “Politically” [he argues], “the country is not ready for in¬ dependence. Economically, we possess nothing: neither industry nor capital. Investments will only come when we are within the Community.” (HA 210)

In addition, Tamban Youssido regards all those who advocate in¬ dependence as secessionists and agents of international communism. But Leye, articulating the feelings of his party, feels that it is the Prime Minister and his ilk who are holding the country from moving forward. They support foreign countries in order to protect their own selfish interest at the expense of the masses whom they continually exploit and abuse. Instead of spending public funds for the maximum good the Prime Minister and his henchmen spend it on their personal needs: The budgetary deficit is not the fault of the people, is it? It is not the hospitals, nor the schools, nor the building of water powerhouses or roads which are the cause of it. This financial deficit is the proof of your sort. . . your greed for refrigerators, luxury cars and air con¬ ditioners (HA 210).

Corruption and personal interests are advanced by Le Front as the two reasons why the African leaders here soft-pedal the idea of national in¬ dependence. Tamban Youssidou is portrayed as the archetype of the African politician serving the imperial and economic interest of France. A catalogue of his political actions are listed by the author to fortify this impression. For instance, despite national opposition, he agrees to send Senegalese soldiers to fight in

Politics

137

Indo-China against a nation fighting for its independence. He has participated in all the governments of the Fourth Republic and has held various cabinet ranks in the French government. The latter, in a gesture of paternalism, presents Youssidou, as a living example of its oeuure ciuilisathce in various in¬ ternational congresses. Tamban Youssidou and others like him clearly have a stake in the ex¬ isting order and are therefore unwilling to change it or see it changed. On the other hand, the younger activists of Le Front—representing a new genera¬ tion—are eager for a change. The decolonization process, they feel, must proceed at a faster pace, and remain irreversible. To stem the tide of decolonization and the growing national aspiration for independence, the partisans of DeGaulle’s French Community take recourse to repressive measures, intimidating and molesting their opponents. Diversion and scare tactics are used by the administration. The Prime Minister tries to persuade and bribe Dr. Tangara into joining forces with his administra¬ tion. When he refuses he is fired from his post. The French threaten economic strangulation for any territory that votes against the Referendum. Its army makes itself very conspicuous and carries out several maneuvers to forestall political trouble. Diembe, the Vice-President of the territorial Assembly, is arrested because of his membership in Le Front. The police and the army harass the members of the opposition and prevent them from mak¬ ing use of the media for their campaigns. The administration also enlists the services of the church to block the chances of the Marxist-Leninist party. This is the origin of the rift (mentioned in Chapter 1) between Tioumbe, the Secretary of Le Front, and her father who is a Catholic priest. Other foul means are used by the administration to frustrate the efforts of the opposition party. The elections are rigged, and the entire political machinery is shown as totally faulty: The conservative forces multiplied their efforts. They mobilized the military, the police, the religious institutions—the churches and the mosques—and the press. Nothing was hidden any more. Their tentacles clung to all the hot elements of the country; the ad¬ ministrative forces aligned themselves against those who dared ex¬ press their opinion; the civil servants were dismissed or transferred. Democracy became associated with force. (HA 144)

Under this climate, Le Front loses the Referendum. French West African ter¬ ritories, with the exception of Sekou Toure s Guinea, opt for the French Community. Guinea’s independence, which the French authorities termed “secession,” earned her the loss of French economic aid. This, supposedly.

The Senegalese Novel

138

was a punitive act. But for the members of Le Front it is a great victory, one which makes them redouble their pledge to fight until the whole of Africa becomes independent. The self-assured Tioumbe incarnates this new deter¬ mination. She refuses to follow her friend Sori to Guinea because of her dedication to the ideals of her party. She declares: We are fighting in order to live. . . not in order to rejoice over our victory. But to build! There is plenty of work to be done. You seem to forget that this region is not yet independent and that I am a member

of

the

first

Marxist

party

to

write

the

word

“Independence.” the first to pronounce it in this part of Africa. Besides, I am responsible for this region. For you. for me. for millions

and

millions

of

men

from

Guinea.

Gabon.

Chad.

Dahomey and Sudan, for us, these regions are but one. In a sense, the imperialists would very much like us to live them for them. But never! (HA 295)

The choice of scientific socialism as a political strategy derives from the international reverberation of the Soviet Revolution of 1917. Lenin and the Third International had recognized the rights of colonized peoples to in¬ dependence and made it mandatory for the Communist Party to support all liberation struggles. In addition to this attraction, the Revolution of 7 November seemed to indicate to colonized people the possibility of over¬ throwing all imperialist regimes through popular revolution. The choice of socialism represents, therefore, a verdict against capitalism and foreshadows political alliance with Russia. This explains why, in reality, some francophile African leaders were at¬ tracted to the French Communist party and other leftist movements. Senegal had several Marxist-oriented activists, including Cheikh Anta Diop and Majhemout Diop before it achieved political independence from France. The latter recently came back from exile after his Marxist-oriented Parti Africain de rindependance was outlawed in Senegal. Majhemout Diop had founded the PAI in 1957, which was proscribed in 1960 for allegedly using violent methods during an election in Senegal. Le Front, it seems, is a fictional representation of the PAI. Historically, it was the Senegalese activist imbued with Marxist-Leninist ideology who spoke seriously of independence when others limited their political enthusiasm to either social reform within the French Union or limited autonomy within the French Community. The Marxist thus claims to be the real artisan of Senegalese independence. In 1953, for instance, Cheikh Anta Diop denounced the French Union in the following terms:

139

Politics

The French Union, from whatever angle one looks at it, appears unfavorable to African interests, in the sense that it will always mean the unilateral exploitation of Africa by the metropolis and a suppression of the legitimate aspiration for national independence for the colonized people, without which democracy is not possible.^

The same year, Majhemout Diop wrote an article in another student magazine, Les Etudiants Noirs Parlent, published by Presence Africaine. The title of the article, “L’Unique Issue: I’lndependence Totale. La Seule Voie: un Large Mouvement d’Union Anti-imperialiste,” is quite revealing. Diop con¬ demns cultural assimilation and the hypocrisy of the political association represented by the French Union, an association which facilitates the ex¬ ploitation of Africans and stifles their legitimate aspirations. Total in¬ dependence, he argued, was what was needed.^ Leopold Sedar Senghor’s opinion was diametrically opposed to the ones expressed by his compatriots at this time. Senghor’s view was more in line with that of Lamine Gueye. Both had represented Senegal in the French Assembly at various times before independence. Their political views during this period were similar to those held by the fictional Tamban Youssido in L’Harmattan. Like the latter, both argued against national independence and favored adherence to France. In 1950 in Strasbourg, Senghor made the following remarks: “Europe is not being faithful if it considers the thought of excluding the people of overseas countries from the Community.Senghor condemned nationalism and reduced the practical utility of political in¬ dependence to a minimum: In the 19th century. . .technology was not yet all powerful. Na¬ tionalism could then be considered as an effective instrument of struggle against imperialism and for independence. But today (in this highly scientific century of the atomic bomb), even though the Africans of the forest have ridden themselves of their inferiority complex, modern imperialism has assumed the semblance of an immoveable mass. Nationalism accordingly appears out-of-date and independence is nothing but illusion. And in this absurd world ridden with anxiety, men, if not nations, prefer liberties to Liberty; to the independence of their country they prefer the material and moral independence of each of their compatriots.

A former chief-lieutenant of Lamine Gueye, Senghor has, like Gueye, an unswerving attachment to France. Lamine Gueye’s politics were marked by an uncritical acceptance of the colonial situation and unquestioned loyalty to France. For him, therefore, the essential thing was not the independence

The Senegalese Novel

140

of the nation but “the independence of man.” He was a strong defender of the French Union. To curb the desire for national sovereignty, he advocated a structural modification of the Union which would reduce its political problems to a minimum. The important thing that should be demanded of France, he argued, was “a strict equality of treatment in the application of its own laws,” meaning that France should show no partiality in the treatment of metropolitan Frenchmen and Africans.^ Senghor’s position, however, appears more surprising in view of his ma¬ jor role in the development of the Negritude movement. His statement on issues concerning national sovereignty, however analyzed, seemed to go against some of the cardinal principles of the movement. Listen to this, for in¬ stance: To speak of independence, is to reason with head downwards and with legs in the air. It is not reasoning but creating a false problem.^ Senghor appears to have transposed this anti-independence mentality into the creation of his dramatic poem, “Chaka,” where the poet-politician con¬ templates abandoning all political struggles directed against colonization, as he decrees in the following words; “Let the politician die and the Poet live!”® But who is Chaka? According to the work of Thomas Mofolo,^ the Basotho writer from South Africa, Chaka is a great African statesman and conqueror, comparable to Soni Ali and Sundiata Keita of the African medieval empires of Songhay and Mali. Son of Chief Senza’ngakona and Nandi, Chaka and his mother were banished from his father’s kingdom as a result of internal domestic squabbles and pressure from the chiefs other wives. The memory of this injustice obsessed him for a long time and his vengeance issued in bloody battles. Chaka organized a valiant army and con¬ quered several nations. He was not only a great general but a brilliant ad¬ ministrator. One of the highlights of his administration was the absorption of the conquered territories into his kingdom and the incorporation of their valiant men into his sophisticated army. Senghor’s poem narrates the end of Chaka’s military campaigns, focus¬ ing on the moment when he is struck down by the assegai of his envious brothers. The fallen king cries in Senghor’s poem: Yes, here am I, between two brothers, two traitors, two thieves. Two fools—ah! not as the hyena, but as the Ethiopic Lion with head erect. Here am I returned to the earth. How bright it is, the Kingdom of Childhood! And it is the end of my passion.^®

141

Politics

The Chaka of Senghor is a weak character, a soldier without much courage. The warrior who, under the pen of Mofolo declared: “All my affec¬ tions reside in this: power, war and armies,”'' becomes like Senghor a tender poet, a great lover and a sensualist who pines away in love: O my love I have waited so long for this So long I have wandered over the steps of youth (for others the flute and the murmurings of honey) So long gone visiting the distant retreats of the sages.

With Senghor, Chaka loses all his masculine characteristics. Love replaces war and Negritude takes over from the struggle against colonization: It is the hour of love in the minute that comes before It is Chaka alone, in his black splendour, his naked slenderness In that agony of joy, heaviness of sex and throat.’^

The Senghorian Chaka is a caricature of the historical and legendary Chaka. Mofolo’s is a military genius who prefers conquest to sentimental attachment. Senghor’s Chaka sacrifices everything for love. As the leader of the chorus in this dramatic poem says, Chaka was “no longer the fiery Lion whose eyes burn villages from afar, the Elephant trampling the sweet-potatoes, uprooting the palm trees of pride.”''* This misrepresentation of one of Africa’s greatest warriors is indicative of Senghor’s political orientation. The poem of Senghor is the work of a poetpolitician who no longer believed in anti-colonial struggles. It is the work of a politician who wanted to remain attached to France.'^ As in his novel L’Harmattan, Sembene Ousmane in Gods Bits of Wood has introduced political overtones. Indeed, it is difficult to do justice to this novel without acknowledging the political implications of the strike of the railroad workers. One of its central themes is the mobilization of the political consciousness of the people. As Claude Wauthier rightly observed, the African militant novel is sometimes given a contemporary political setting. The most striking example of this in Francophone Africa is without a doubt the latest novel of Sembene Ousmane, God’s Bits of Wood. God’s Bits of Wood demonstrates the rapport between the economic and political structures, not only in Senegal but throughout the region of the novel’s setting. Through a strike staged by railroad workers for improved working conditions, the novel questions the entire colonial structure, and raises a much bigger issue—the right to a decent living by all human beings. Thus the problem raised in the novel becomes much more than a conflict be-

The Senegalese Novel

142

tween employer and employees. The whole question of economic exploita¬ tion and the total disregard for the welfare of the indigenous population leading to political alienation is cogently posed. We see this in the following portrayal of Thies, one of the important junctions of the powerful railroad that linked the former French West African territories: Hovels. A few rickety shacks, some upturned tombs, walls of bam¬ boo or millet stalks, iron barbs, and rotting fences. Thies; a vast, uncertain plain where all the rot of the city has gathered — stakes and crossties, locomotive wheels, rusty shafts, knocked-in jer¬ ricans, old matiress springs, bruised and lacerated sheets of steel. And then, a little farther on, on the goat path that leads to the Bambara quarter, piles of old tin cans, heaps of excrement, little moun¬ tains of broken pottery, cooking tools, dismantled railway cars, skeletons of motors buried in the dust, and the tiny remains of cats, of rats, of chickens, disputed by the birds. Thies: in the midst of cor¬ ruption, a few meager bushes —wild tomato, dwarf peppers, and okra —whose pitiful fruits were harvested by the women. Bald¬ sided goats and sheep, clothed with filth, came here to graze—to graze on what? —The clay? Constantly hungry, naked children, with sunken chests and swollen bellies, argued with the vultures. Thies: a place where everyone — man, woman, and child —had a face the color of the earth. (GBW 49)

This dismal picture of Thies is symbolic of the material and moral decay which colonization brought about in the territories of the novel’s setting. It is the suffering and deprivation associated with this decadence which led to the revolt of the workers and the political awakening of the people. The geophysical portrayal of Thies in a sophisticated political statement differs from the bald ones made in L'Harmattan. The total involvement of the masses in the strike is indicative of the deep-rooted nature of the people’s resentment of colonial exploitation. The refusal of the workers to let their African representatives in the French Assembly mediate on their behalf is also revealing.

The following remarks by Bakayoko,

one of the important

characters in the novel, attest to the growing unpopularity of these acculturated Senegalese: Our deputies. Do you know what we think of them? To us their mandate is simply a license to profiteer. We know them, and that is what we think of them. There are some of them who, before the election, did not even own a second pair of pants. Now they have apartments—bank accounts, and they own stock in companies like this one. What do they have in common with the ignorant people

143

Politics

who elected them without knowing what they were doing? They have become your allies and you expect us to let them be the judges of our differences. (GBW 277)

But the “ignorant people” have evolved politically and their activities show they are no longer going to be the dupes of anybody—black or white. Many African political parties of this period were simply extensions of the political parties of France, and the deputies who won election under the banner of these parties could not carry out any reform that negated the principles of the metropolitan parties. Trade unionism, as represented by the common action of the railroad workers, seemed to offer a reliable and independent platform for the serious and effective political, economic and social reforms that are relevant to the people’s lives. The workers, therefore, educate the people concerning their oppressed condition and ask them to work towards changing the system that is holding them down. The general support given them by the entire population attests to their success. This support is evident in the general participation of women in the conflict. The railroad and the strike have transformed the entire society, releasing a new energy that must be chan¬ nelled into constructive ends. The women move from the secondary position in which traditional culture has placed them to a more powerful one where they take part in the running of things. They indicate by their solid involve¬ ment that the new social order will have to take account of them. They are a new breed of women, and they, perhaps, provide a real measurement of the country’s political evolution. One of the factors which promoted the birth of nationalist movements in Senegal, as well as in many other parts of Africa, was the awakening of the African elite to the fact that their society had its cultural validity, an authentic civilization, and a historical legacy of its own. Senegal was not a tabula rasa on which impressions had to be made. Ironically it was in Paris that this prise de conscience ” occurred. After wallowing for several years in a foreign culture which they had till then denigrated. This cultural phenomenon took place among both Francophone and Anglophone blacks. Among the latter it led to the development of the concept of “African Personality, of which the American W.E.B. Dubois was a leading exponent and founder. Among the Francophone blacks it was baptized Negritude. Negritude, a neologism used for the first time by the Martinican, Aime Cesaire, was adopted by Leopold Sedar Senghor who defined and amplified the concept. There are many aspects of Negritude. Senghor has often defined it as the totality of the black man’s cultural values. Negritude is a cultural, literary and political ideology. But from its inception until the late 1950s it stressed the

The Senegalese Novel

144

primacy of the cultural over the political, affirming that “cultural liberation is an essential condition of political liberation."'^ Indeed, the total liberation of Africa could not be accomplished without political liberation. This point was emphasized by Alioune Diop, one of the founders of the publishing house and its magazine of the same name. Presence Africaine, which became an important organ of the Negritude movement. He said: African men of culture can no longer afford to be disinterested in politics, which is a necessary condition for cultural revival.'®

One

of the

points

of difference

between

L'Etudiant Noir,

a

student

newspaper, and the official organ of the Antillean Etienne Lero and his group, was the degree of emphasis on politics and culture in their various pro¬ grams of liberation from colonization. According to Senghor, Legitime Defense, “maintained... that political revolution should precede cultural revolution, since the latter is only possible with a radical political change.”'^ But during the 1930s both Senghor and Aime Cesaire refused to engage in political activities in the tradition of the French intellectuals who were very critical of political parties and of politics in general. Thus, in 1937 Senghor, stating the official position of Negritude, said that “the cultural problem in French West Africa is the most serious problem of the hour.”^° Several works of literature were produced by Senegalese authors to reflect this cultural perspective. It gave birth to the works of Birago Diop and Ousmane Soce, in particular, and led to the foundation of Presence Africaine in 1947 by Alioune Diop and his supporters. It was the same spirit of cultural revival that Cheikh Anta Diop wrote his controversial Nations negres et culture, published by Presence Africaine in 1954. Diop maintained in this work that the ancient Egyptians were, in fact, black and that Hellenic civilization, the spiritual father of Western civilization, was influenced directly by Africa. The importance of these events and activities by Senegalese intellectuals should in no way be minimized. To affirm that there was an African civiliza¬ tion, that, in fact, Africa was not a cultural void was to renew African con¬ fidence in their cultural heritage. This Ousmane Soce and Birago Diop amply demonstrated in their works. To speak of ancient African kingdoms, of tradi¬ tional kings and their heroic exploits, is to light the flame of nationalism and to lay the foundation for eventual demand for political reform. These efforts at cultural revival were also combatants in the srtruggle against cultural assimila¬ tion. At the same time, Senegalese intellectuals stressed the basic relationship between the ethnic groups in the country. This created a solid base for

Politics

145

vociferous nationalism. The Lebous, it was stressed, were the cousins of the Sereres, and the Sereres the cousins of the Wolof and the Toucouleurs. Ethnic affinity was also established between the Diolas of Casamance and the rest of Senegal. This intra-ethnic affinity could facilitate anti-colonial struggles and solidify nationalistic sentiments. This, indeed, was seen as a blessing, especially at a time when colonial powers played up the problem of ethnicity in order to curb the rising tide of nationalism. Thus, if Senegal opted for the French Community at a time when Guinea, for instance, voted for in¬ dependence, it was not because of internal problems due to tribalism. As a matter of fact, Negritude continued to emphasize the distinct elements of African cultural values (as opposed to the European) and thereby made the ground more fertile for national independence. Paradoxical as this may seem, Senghor, the griot of Negritude, was at the time the stumbling block to nationalism and Senegalese independence. “Independence,” he said, “is only a myth devised to keep alive an outdated nationalism.”^^ But when independence came, Senghor was Senegal’s first president. This ambivalence, this paradox in Senghor’s attitude, is part of the history of Negritude. The various political theories associated with this ideology—The French Union, The French Imperial Community, Eurafrica, Francophonie — aimed at the political accommodation of Senegal with a larger French Commonwealth. The various theories are also based on the political exigencies and temperaments of the time. Thus Senghor. will argue that his Negritude has remained a dynamic concept, altering and changing with the times and circumstances. Sometimes, Negritude has been a-political, at other times, political. For instance, in August of 1946, following the elimination of most of the liberal reforms contained in an April 1946 Constitu¬ tion which he had helped to draw up, Senghor threatened that unless Africans obtained equal rights in the French Union, the African territories would become independent, “even by violence. But this was only a threat and Senghor soon changed his mind and opposed those who spoke of na¬ tional independence for the African territories. He proposed, instead, the aborted “French Imperial Community” which he had hoped would grant political equality to colonial citizens. Senghor considered politics as a means to an end and, in fact, still does so. The end to be achieved is cultural liberation. This is why his Negritude em¬ phasizes the primacy of culture over politics. Senghorian Negritude has never really advocated strong nationalism in political matters. Senghor himself is a middle-of-the-roader who likes to propose conciliatory theories which would accommodate both Africa and Europe.

The Senegalese Novel

146

But the second half of the 1950s was a period of strong political agitation and independence movements in most parts of what is now called the Third World.” Senghor'coirld no longer ignore the winds of change. Negritude had to shift its emphasis from the cultural in order to accommodate the new political realities. In 1956. after the first Congress'of Negro Artists and Writers, he realized that "there cannot he any cultural liberation without prior political

liberations.”^'*

Despite

this

statement.

Senghor

opposed

in¬

dependence for Senegal in 1958 in the Gaullist Referendum. It took the in¬ creasing militancy of the younger elements within his party to make him come around to the idea of national sovereignty for Senegal. As the first and only long-lasting president of independent Senegal. Senghor maintained his tradi¬ tional ties with France. This is why to many he remains a victim of the policy which produced him; French imperial politics of assimilation. (The above paragraphs of course were written before December 24. 1980. the date of Senghor’s retirement after 20 years in power, ed.) Le Front did not accept the traditional political structure in the former ter¬ ritories of French West Africa. The behavior of Leye and Tioumbe towards their parents suggests that they no longer believed in the validity of this political structure. Indeed, they perceived it as retrogressive. What is the nature of this traditional political structure? It is one which is essentially democratic, involving dialogue and participation by members of the society through the community palaver, the traditional African council of elders. Fiere each member’s ideas are critically examined and decisions are taken in favor of the majority. There is usually no vote, but through dialogue and persuasion the minority is made to rally to the opinion of the majority and the final decision is unanimously taken. In this system the political chief is also the religious and economic chief. It is a system which gives primacy to the group rather than to the individual, but its major goal is to maintain order and ensure the development of the individual within the umbrella of the group; It is a system of conservation directed towards equilibrium and order, attentive to the rules of a specific tradition. It is obviously legalistic. Hostile to innovation, it excludes anarchy as a matter of principle. Despite the occasional cases of instability which have marked it and the dynamism inherent in all social organizations of this type, these traditional political systems were governed by inter¬ nal laws, crystalized in institutions that were perfectly coherent.

In practice the traditional political structure is a socialist-oriented system or, better still, a community-oriented system since the emphasis is on collec¬ tive living. This idea of collective living implies that things are shared between

Politics

147

members of the community. The land, as well as its produce, does not belong to any one person in particular but to the family, the clan and the entire village. What permeates the fabric of its structure is faith in spiritual values and religious beliefs of the people: The ancestors are constantly watching and regulating the actions of everyone in the community. Because of this traditional structure some African nationalists have presented Africa as a model of socialism. For them pre-colonial Africa is pre¬ socialist. This partly explains the attraction of Karl Marx’s socialist ideology. The attraction to scientific socialism is due not only to the fact that it presents a political front against capitalism, but it is easily adaptable to Africa’s pre¬ colonial economic structure. The Negritude movement was also influenced by scientific socialism, but Senghor preferred what he called an “African road to socialism. This would be based on African cultural values with emphasis on humanism rather than materialism. He openly admired Marx’s early humanism and agreed with his analysis of capitalism. He also accepted Marx’s revolutionary method as a means to effect change. But he rejected Marx’s atheism, violence and ethnocentrism. He did not agree with Marx that a worldwide proletariat exists. But it was on the Marxist-Leninists that Senghor really came down hard because, according to him, they were cultural imperialists with a base in Russia looking for international supporters. Senghor also accused them of making Marxism a doctrine. The apostles of Negritude were more willing to perceive Marxism as an instrument of analysis and investigation than anything else. Thus, Senghor declared: “We could not accept an ideology thought out by others and for others, which denied the values of our civilization, of our collective personality. It had to be adapted to our needs. Thus, in a symposium on Negritude and Politics,” Senghor s Minister of Education, Alioune Seek, stated: “Briefly then, we shall retain from Marxism its dialectics as a method of analyzing facts and the practice of planning. We retain also, everything positive that Marx and Lenin retained from capitalism. the rational organization of work, scientific progress and technological efficiency. ’’26 But how, in reality, does socialism function in Senegal? Is the country a socialist state? It is important to note that the socialism advocated by the apostles of Negritude embodied practical difficulties. It had to take into ac¬ count the fact that the economy of Senegal until 1956 was planned and con¬ trolled by France; it also had to contend with opposition from private in¬ vestors, largely European and their African wards. Socialization also met with another practical difficulty: financing Senegal’s Economic Plan had to be •

The Senegalese Novel

148

done with about 45 percent of the total budget conning fronn the private sec¬ tor. and this could not be achieved without major compromises. And to get his money. Senghor usually turned to France, a capitalist country. In 1950, he defined the nature of the relationship which should exist between the two countries: "In this latent Community, one would bring the money, the techni¬ cians. and the machine; the other the men and the raw materials. This, perhaps, is why Yves Benot wrote in 1969 that, "Senghor’s African socialism is, in effect, a theory of collaboration of independent Africa with the dominant class of Western countries.”^® It would be proper to say that Senghor’s dependence on foreign capital — specifically on French capital and technology —makes

his

"socialism”

closer

to

acceptance

of

economic

dependence and domination by foreign capitalist investors. Collaboration ex¬ ists between foreign investors and the local petite bourgeoisie for whom socialism may be nothing more than an empty political slogan. It was the con¬ certed duplicity of these two groups which led to the suppression of some of the revolutionary aspects in Senghor’s socialist program and which brought about the downfall of Mamadou Dia in 1962. Since then foreign investors and

their

local

henchmen

have

dominated

Senegal’s

economy

with

Senghor’s open acquiescence. From fiction to reality, the foregoing analysis reflects the nature of the political transformation which seems to be going on in Senegal. Colonization gave birth to African nationalism, at least to a new aspect of African na¬ tionalism, and infused the desire to build modern types of states. The tradi¬ tional notion of clan and tribe is being gradually replaced with the concept of states and nations. Former ethnic groups that were highly conservative and very jealous of their independence, maintaining strong internal cohesion through strict social and religious codes, were gradually supplanted by nations and states with all the characteristics of the modern state. There are now political states, universal suffrage and a triadic division of political powers into legislative, executive and judiciary segments. In the traditional political struc¬ ture, the political chief was often the economic as well as the religious head. The concept of political parties was nonexistent. However, it would be wrong to conclude from the foregoing that the traditional political structure in Senegal has disappeared. Vestiges, indeed, real examples, remain very much in evidence; the elders are still very influen¬ tial in the villages; local councils and religious leaders hold sway over political matters. It is, therefore, better to speak of superimposition of the Western political structure on the Senegalese system. As the analysis of L'Harmattan and God's Bits of Wood revealed, the political leaders of Senegal used the

149

Politics

traditional chiefs and the religious leaders to prolong their domination of the country. The position of the Moslem religious leaders was crucial in determin¬ ing the outcome of the 1958 referendum. According to Ernest Milcent and Monique Sordet, Senghor could not convince Mamadou Dia to oppose the idea of national political autonomy for Senegal. It took the intervention of the Moslem leaders to rally him to Senghor’s side.^’ It is also true to state that political loyalties are not based so much on ideological conviction as on per¬ sonal, ethnic or religious relationships. Le Front, which was built essentially on an ideological basis, was heavily defeated in the 1958 referendum. The notion of political parties tends also to follow a traditional pattern. In Senegal, as in other African countries, the tendency has been to develop a one-party or a dominant-party system. Ethnic loyalties, it is argued, hamper effective opposition. In addition, the traditional society did not employ the multiple-party system to solve its problems or to govern the people. Everybody in the society took part in the same meetings and freely voiced their opinion on the current issue. The European notion of democracy was not totally adopted, but was made to accommodate local democratic styles. In his speech on “Negritude and Politics,” Alioune Seek, Senghor’s lieutenant had this to say; This is why the presidential regime with one party as a dominent party responds better to the spirit of African political philosophy which is centered not on the individual but on the group. The Presi¬ dent personifies the Nation, the Power, as did the traditional Chief.

It is not true, however, that the dominant party in Senegal is the result of a free fusion of all the national parties in the country. The Parti Africain de Vlndependence was banned in 1960 by the government, and Cheikh Anta Diop personally told this author that his political party has not yet been ab¬ sorbed by Senghor’s party. Senghor recently has permitted the appearance of an opposition party in Senegal, in response to the political mood of the mili¬ tant segments of the country. The essence of Seek’s statement lies, however, in the political syncretism which is taking place in Senegalese politics. This syncretism is the result of a conscious borrowing and adaptation. Any evidence of integral assimilation is hard to come by but some adaptations have not been altogether salutory. For instance, the institution of chieftaincy has been abused and often distorted. The political power of the traditional chief had, in the past, a mystical base. The exercise of this power was ritualistic and, therefore, sacred. Today,

150

The Senegalese Novel

however, one perceives traditional chiefs who act as agents of the administra¬ tion in power. For instance, there seems to exist a mutual understanding be¬ tween the Moslem leaders in Senegal and the government of Senghor. L’Harmattan and God’s Bits of Wood condemn the political roles of these religious leaders. In the political field there is, therefore, a reciprocity between tradi¬ tionalism and modernism, and it is rather too early to measure all the conse¬ quences. The political independence of Senegal from France is perhaps the utmost testimony to the successful resistance by the Senegalese people to the politics of assimilation. ^Nations africaines et solidarite mondiale, Paris, Presses Universitaires Franpaises, 1963, p. 4. ^See Voix de I’Afrique Noire, Bulletin mensuel de I’Association des Etudiants R.D.A.. Paris, mai-juin 1953, no. 75, p. 9. ^See Presence Africaine, no. special, 14, 1953, pp. 160-161. “Quoted in L.P. Aujoulat, Aujourd’hui lAfrique, Paris, Casterman, 1958, p. 296. %/d., p. 304. ^Quoted in Claude Wauthier, LAfrique des Africains, Paris, Seuil, 1964, p. 125. ^Quoted in Marcien Towa, Leopold Sedar Senghor: Negritude ou Servitude? Yaounde, Edition CLE, 1971, p. 80. ®L.S. Senghor, “Chaka,” Poemes, Paris, Seuil, 1964. p. 130. “Thomas Mofolo, Chaka, Paris, Gallimard, 1939. ^°L.S. Senghor, Poemes, p. 118. 'Thomas Mofolo, Chaka, p. 169. '^L.S. Senghor, Poemes, p. 127. ^^Ibid. ^*Ibid.

'^Seydou Badian, in a 5-act play entitled Chaka, provides an image of Chaka which ap¬ proximates that of the historical and legendary Chaka. See S. Badian, Chaka, Presence Africain, Paris, 1964. '^Claude Wauthier, op cit., p. 165. 'Taulette Nardal, “Eveil de la conscience de race,” Revue de Monde Noir 6 avril 1933, p 25. '®Quoted in Lilyan Kesteloot, Les ecrivains noirs de langue fran(;aise: naissance d'une litterature, Bruxelles, Editions de I’lnstitut de I’Universite Libre de Bruxelles, 1965, p. 263. '%/d., p. 92. ^°L.S. Senghor, Liberte 1, p. 11. ^'L.S. Senghor, Paris-Dakar, 10 Novembre 1950, p. 2. ^^Interview with Senghor by Julien Teppe, Gavroche: Periodique de Paris, no. 102, 8 aout 1946, p. 7. “L.S. Senghor, “Culture et Politique,” L'Unite 4, 5 decembre, 1956, p. 2. ^“Pathe Diagne, Pouvoir politique traditionnel en afrique occidentale, Paris, Presence, Afri¬ caine, 1967, p. 286.

Politics

151

”L.S. Senghor, Pierre Teilhard de Chardin et la politique africaine, Paris, Seuil, 1962, p. 26. **Alioune Seek, “La Negritude et la Politique,” Le Soleil, no. special 305, 8 mai 1971, p. 34. 2^Quoted in L.P. Aujoulat, op. cit., p. 297. ^^Ideologies des independences africaines, Paris, Maspero, 1969, p. 199. ”Ernest Milcent et a/., Leopold Sedar Senghor et la naissance de lafrique moderne, Paris, Seghers, 1969, p. 184. 30Le Soleil 305, op. cit., p. 34.

9

fi■

■ nn

. Paris: Rene Julliard, 1956. Tutuola, A. The Palm Wine Drinkard. Paris: London, Faber & Faber, 1952. CRITICAL WORKS ON AFRICAN LITERATURE CONSULTED Anozie, S.O. Sociologie du roman africain. Paris: Aubier-Montaigne, 1970. Brench, A.C. The Novelists' Inheritance in French Africa. London: Oxford University Press, 1967. Colin, R. Litterature africaine d'hier et de demain. Paris: Association pour le developpement educatif et culturel, 1965. Cook, M. et Henderson, S.E. The Militant Black Writer in Africa and the United States. Madison, Wisconsin: The University of Wisconsin Press, 1969. Eliet, E. Panorama de la litterature negro-africaine,

1921-1962.

Paris:

Presence Africaine, 1965. Eno-Belinga, M. Litterature et musique populaire en Afrique noire. Paris: Edi¬ tions Cujas, 1965. Jahn, J. Neo-African Literature: A History of Black Writing. New York: Grove Press, 1969. Kesteloot, L. Les ecrivains noirs de langue franyaise: naissance d une litterature. Bruxelles: Universite libre de Bruxelles, Institute de Sociologie, 1963. _. Anthologie negro-africaine. Belgique: Verviers, Gerald & Cie., 1967. _. Negritude et situation coloniale. Yaounde: Editions CLE, 1968. Krog, E.W. (Ed.). African Literature in Rhodesia. Rhodesia, Mambo Press, 1966. Melone, T. De la negritude dans la litterature negro-africaine. Paris: Presence Africaine, 1962. _Mongo Beti: I'homme et le destin. Paris: Presence Africaine, 1972. Mezu, S.O. Leopold Sedar Senghor et la defense et illustration de la civilisa¬ tion noire. Paris: Didier, 1968. _The Poetry of Senghor. London, Heinemann, 1972.

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Moore, G. The Chosen Tongue: English Writing in the Tropical World. Lon¬ don; Longmans Green & Co., 1969. _. Seven African Writers. London: Oxford University Press, 1966. _.

African

Literature

and the

Universities.

Ibadan:

Ibadan

University Press, 1965. Mphahlele, E. African Writing Todag. Middlesex, England: Penguin Books, 1967. Pageard, R. Litterature negro-africaine. Paris: Le Livre Africain, 1966. Pieterse, Cosmo and D.

Munro (Eds.). Protest and Conflict in African

Literature. London: Heinemann, 1969. Nantet, J. Panorama de la litterature africaine. Paris; Eayard, 1972. Sainville, L. Pomanders et conteurs negro-africains. Paris: Presence Afri¬ caine, 1963. Sartre, J-P. Orphee Noir. in Anthologie de la nouvelle poesie negre et molgache de langue fram;aise. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1948. Senghor, L.S. Liberte 1: Negritude ou Servitude? Yaounde: CLE, 1971. Several authors; Actes du collogue sur la litterature africaine d'expression fram^aise. Dakar: 26-29 mars, 1963. _.

The Writer in Modern Africa, African Scandinavian Writers

Conference. Stockholm, 1967. Wauthier, C. L'Afrique des Africains: inventaire de la negritude. Paris: Edi¬ tions du Seuil, 1964. SOME ARTICLES ON AFRICAN LITERATURE CONSULTED Alexis, S. “Ou va le roman?,” in Presence Africaine, no. 13 (avril-mai 1957), 81-101. Balandier, G. “La litterature noire de langue franyaise,” in Le Monde Noir, Paris, Presence Africaine (1950), 393-402. Boiteau, P. “Etapes de la poesie neqro-africaine,” in Pensee, no. 103 (maijuin 1962), 3-6. Dempster, R.T. “L’Ecrivain, son travail et son profit,” in Presence Africaine, no. 36 (1961), 79-84. Diakhate, L. “Le mythe dans la poesie populaire au Senegal et sa presence dans Foeuvre de L.S. Senghor et de Birago Diop,” in Presence Africaine, no. 39, 59-78. _“De la poesie populaire,” in Condition Humaine, Dakar (24 sept. 1954).

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