Vagrancy, permanence and the sense of home 1

The next series of 'video' montage postings will be dealing with a single song, which I've translated as Fishing for Our Lord. This is a rare treat because I shan't be putting up every Salia Koroma song in its entirety given the length of most of the ballads. With this particular song, I've chosen to edit it into about five sections. This first part deals with the prelude and a third of the quest for the njagbo. Be on the lookout for the other parts.
On the surface, it's a rather monotonous song with its refrain: "I didn't see any njagbo there," or "It didn't have any njagbo attached." Salia himself may have realised this, for in this 1980 version he chose to preface the song (in Krio), essentially telling the casual non-Mende listener that he's dealing with many things and not just repeating a line over and again. (I edited out that spoken preface here.) It's a very complex song thematically. In my next few postings I shall be discussing the song.

*** For the time being, pay attention to the lines about him not wanting to be any one's slave companion had he lived in the days when the old Mende wars raged. Note the hypothetical case. Some lines later when Salia ups and sets out fishing, the language changes in a very subtle way. He's no longer supposing; he's there; the conditionality of the earlier language is gone. What we see is that the first scenario (old wars/slavery days) is a poetic device, a peg on which he's going to hang many themes and explore them systematically. Note also the anachronisms. In the olden days there'd have been no airplanes, no electricity and things like that. But as I said, it's a poetic device, a clever way to treat disparate themes.

Once again, you very Happy Few, enjoy!

Check it out on nikiibu.wordpress.com

"As we went Vonjo wept..."

1- On the way, Vonjo was crying. Musu Tolleh was crying.**
I said:
Musu, why're you crying? Indeed you've done a foolish thing.
If the hat on the head complains about foetid air,
What's the loincloth hanging around the hole to say?
...the trouble you've started isn't likely to bring you down."

As we went Vonjo wept. I said:
"Don't cry my Father.
Don't you know that with a valiant warrior in your camp you go to war without fear, Vonjo?
I'm here behind you.
There's no rock in Mendeland to sink a great man.

Don't fear!
The minnow-fish won't spawn a degbe;
So a poor man won't sire a prince.
The baboon isn't just any other animal;
Oh! A bush cow doesn't bolt down a hole at all."

(-Gangu Vonjo)

2- The wind that'll blow tomorrow is in the heavens
but it won't blow before its time;

Tomorrow's light is in the heavens
but it won't shine just yet;

Tomorrow's wind is in the heavens
but it won't blow on anyone before its time.

(-Seigbema)

3- "As God's my witness," a trapper scolds his son
"Since I gave birth to you you've refused to work for me. See the rope I'm making.
Who would you have to fight over it when I'm gone?"

-All that comes from poverty. Not so my people?

"The mature raffia-palm on the edge of the swamp-
When I clean it and tap it and I die
You and who will own it?"

-All that comes from poverty. Not so my people?

"See the weir on the stream over there?
When I shore it up with fresh palm branches and I die
You and who will own it?"

-All that comes from poverty. Not so my people?

(-Kabaima)

** Vonjo (Nyagua III) has been summoned to appear before the District Commissioner in Kenema. He and his retinue of courtiers, wives and musicians are been transported under military escort. Vonjo is probably thinking that the first Nyagua's fate is going to befall him. Salia tries to lift his spirits here.

New Ideas for Changing Times

I wrote in the previous post that I'd revisit the song "Ko Sao" to clarify issues raised by the singer, or rather to give context to the song. I'd attempt that here.
I wrote in the posting First Among Equals that Salia Koroma was born just seven years after Governor Cardew promulgated his protectorate over the land lying outside the Sierra Leone Colony. That Salia Koroma lived well into his tenth decade made him a witness to and an actor in the many changes that were to occur in Mende society. This longevity, spanning the early British influences in the hinterland, spanning Independence, coups and counter-coups and the start of the civil war, permitted Salia Koroma to see value systems evolve and change.

"Since they brought in this N.A., how the princes have sunk into deep slavery:" Among these changes were those that directly impacted on the system of hierarchical relationships that had existed before the Protectorate. First to be targeted were the powers wielded by the chiefs; larger political units were carved up, or vassal units of a large chiefdom were granted outright autonomy on the basis that their chiefs had "signed" treaties of friendship. Next to be targeted was the system of domestic slavery that had been the main source of princely wealth. The 1927 (yes, that recently!) Abolition Ordinance brought an end to slavery in what was then the Protectorate. At about the same time, what we know today as the N.A. system was brought in, effectively making chiefs functionaries of the colonial system ( and then the central government today.) There were cosmetic changes as well: whereas the symbol of princely office in Mendeland had been the ceremonial ivory tusk(buli), the colonial system issued each chief a staff as the new symbol, a pale imitation of the royal sceptre that obtained (obtains) in Britain. Things haven't changed with Independence.

"Since Freetown came, this Sierra Leone, everyone's a freeman:" These changes in power relationships were to have profound effects on society at large. There were educational opportunities as well as economic opportunities opened up by the colonial system to all in society, changes that helped define a new pattern of ties and kinship. Between freemen and former slaves, between husbands and wives, and between parents and children new power relationships were in negotiation. The chiefs could no longer be the only wealthy people in society. Trade and mining could now make every Lahai, Vamboi and Vandi a somebody. And with the advent of national politics, government ministers and even backbench M.P.s could give the chiefs a run for their money as to who best can give favours. Serious competition!
Children could strike out on their own, far away from the native village and make a life for themselves. An industrious wife in the countryside could gain a level of financial autonomy by gathering palm kernels and selling these at a produce store in the next town. Authority at all levels was, if not threatened, at least in an unstable stage of renegotiation as a direct result of the new shifts in societal and individual attitudes. The railway and the lorry made the first restless horde of young people criss-crossing the country feel themselves to be colonial governors or District Commissioners (D.C.'s) 'going on patrol,' touring the counrty.
This is what Salia Koroma made the very stuff of his songs:the realities of the individual and those of the community at times intersecting, often barely touching. These shifts were to become the context in which Salia, as an artist, worked, and these were to become the very content of his work. To do otherwise would've made his work irrelevant.
A New Language for the New Man: "Ko Sao" picks up new language to reflect a new reality. Only alien words would adequately bespeak an alien attitude: 'Patrol' (travel), 'Fit-yai' (Krio, to disrespect). And the overarching language would be money, penneh (penny, money). For the singer, his attitude as an individual in the new reality of colonialism is grounded in the symbolically vivid language and vision of his beloved Mende country: "Folo geh loh a ngevo..." (The sun's end is the dry season...) Each term of the comparision makes the careful listener ask, shouldn't it be the other way round? Perhaps Salia Koroma asked himself that question, because in later compositions, he, this gifted artist, could no longer find his being and purpose in his patron. He becomes the thorn that makes the chiefs, the branches, dreaded; and the patron can only be considered important because Salia Koroma sang for them.
Attitudes had indeed changed.


***Most of the photos in the 1926-28 time frame in this slideshow are from the Internet Missionary Photography Archive (IMP-SOA);the others are from various other collections. In each case the photograph(s) belong(s) to the original copyright holder.

Tales of wars...

The Gendemeh Famine* came, people survived it.
Here we're, going strong.

The Kaiser's War came: they fought it;
Here we're, going strong.

Hitler's War came: it was fought;
Here we're, going strong.
(.......)
That's why today, with things so hard
If you're really brave
You'll have your own tale to tell tomorrow.

--Salia Koroma

*Gendemeh Famine, c. 1909/10. Translation & artwork by Nikiibu.

First Among Equals

What was it that made Salia Koroma stand out among his peers? There were other accomplished Mende musicians during the many decades that Salia Koroma lived, but for some reason these musicians' singing careers were for the most part rather short. I can name here Isata Nyambe and Gbakie in the 1960s and 1970s.In the 1980s and early 1990s there were Ami Kallon and Jenneh Koroma. And all these musicians sang in the same balladry tradition of Salia Koroma.
But for popularity and sheer length of career Salia Koroma outshone each and every one of them. And he was as popular with notables as he was with commoners because his material had a richness that surpassed that of the others, a lyricism that still astounds the listener today.
Precisely on account of the time of his birth, his longevity, and because of the length of his career, Salia Koroma bridged the gap between pre-colonial and post-colonial Mende country in its balladeering tradition. Salia was the transmitter of that tradition in more than a figurative way, having been handed the baton by his minstrel father who had in all likelihood served the chiefs of pre-Protectorate Mende country. One shouldn't forget that the British Protectorate over the hinterland of Sierra Leone was only seven years old when Salia was born, so that when Bobboi Kandoh handed his boy Salia Koroma that accordion he was effectively handing over to the 9-year old the language, expressions, experiences and world view of pre-1896 Mendeland. Every Salia Koroma composition is a foray into a world that had virtually disappeared, hence the difficulty of the language.

An Overview of Salia Koroma's themes: Salia Koroma relates the past to an evolving society, exploring at the same time, however blindly, the future. His songs are woven out of the substance of experience, reflecting on the relationships existing between humans, between humans and a world that exists beyond the visible and the concrete world around them. Christian and Islamic ideas had intruded into the Mende world by Salia's birth, but their influences are hardly felt in Salia Koroma's songs. Salia counted himself a muslim; however the Mende perception of the spirit world is prominent (if not the only one) in Salia's songs. In effect, the idea of a partly seen, partly unseen cosmology rooted in an authentic African experience (expressed in a language that channels that experience) precludes every other world view in Salia's songs.
The songs as individual artistic expressions thereby become a residue of past human experiences as well as a treasury of social values in a world in full mutation. And the social values are what, exactly? Courage, industry, open-handed generosity and an ethos of communal goodwill; duty and deference to family and authority, in other words, the civility that marks out a well-ordered society.
Contrasted with that is the individualism that undermines and that often negates the older values. Salia Koroma, however, wasn't hypocritical enough to count himself always on the side of the older tradition, having participated fully in the new independence occasioned by the crumbling 'feudal' system that had existed prior to the advent of the Protectorate. (My next Salia post will illustrate these points with a 'video' montage of a complete Salia Koroma composition.)
I'll close this post (and this Themes section) by adding that the songs (Songs of Old Age? Songs of Experience?) underline the pitiful loneliness of old age, the irony of man's tragic condition of suffering and death played against a decor of vaingloriousness. The adventurer (I'm still talking about Salia Koroma, our minstrel), at the end of a long, hectic existence, now witnessing the passing away of one esteemed patron after the other, ponders his own mortal condition and declares that it wasn't worth it.

*** **** ***
**For the photo at the top of this page, I'd wish to thank Chad Finer at Sierra Leone I 1968-70, who's granted me permission to use his Salia Koroma picture. I've taken the liberty to crop the original for the purposes of this post. I shall put up the full picture at a later date. Chad Finer served in the Peace Corps in Kenema in the 1960s, where he took this picture of Salia Koroma in 1969 (Salia would've been 66 years old).

"When the great court gathered..."

Salia Koroma, M.A., O.R.R.S.L.
Salia's contribution to the cultural heritage of Sierra Leone is a well-established fact today, evidenced by the award of two honours before the singer's passing. The first recognition was a civil decoration, the Order of the Rokel (Republic of Sierra Leone), in the early1980's. A decade later, about two years before his death, Salia was awarded an honorary M.A. by the University of Sierra Leone. In a 1985/86 Government of Sierra Leone publication, Salia Koroma was listed among the 50 people who've contribution to the forging of the Sierra Leone nation and that of a distinct Sierra Leonean cultural identity.
Heady stuff for the nine-year old boy who'd left his native Njaluahun in 1912 in search of a father he believed would enrol him in one of the many mission schools that were sprouting all over Mende country at the turn of the century. For his school Salia was handed an accordion and told to go play for the Samanga, the Worthies of Mendeland.
With a hot warrior in your camp you go into battle without trembling If national and academic honours came late in his life, Salia's unique abilities were recognised right from the start in Mende country itself. And to this day he remains the single most favoured singer. It was quite common to hear contemporaries of the singer, our grandparents who spoke no other language but Mende, say this about Salia Koroma: "But the man knows the Mende language," or "What a clever man." What they noticed in what we thought was old people's music was Salia Koroma's artistic use of Mende, his ability to say so much in a little turn of a phrase. But Salia's primary audience were the chiefs and their courts, whose patronage, it would appear from the internal evidence of the songs, he didn't have to seek. That's how hot an artist he was. But such an evidence would be self-serving, wouldn't it? So we'll quote Gary Schulze who recorded Salia Koroma in 1962 for the Smithsonian Folkway Label (liner notes):

Salia Koroma, a man in his fifties,is one of the best known Mende singers in all of Sierra Leone. His instrument, the accordion, is of western import, but his songs deal with traditional themes of love, war, and death.He often reverts to a classical form of the Mende language not always readily understood by the younger generation.When Salia appears in a chiefdom, people journey from many miles around to hear him. He travels in his own Land-Rover, is in great demand by the Paramount Chiefs of Mendeland, and has made many commercial recordings of his songs, which he composes
himself.