The Language Of Àrọ̀

O.O. Oyelaran[1]

            Adeboye Babalọla[2] first called the attention of folklorists and literary scholars to àrọ̀ which has often been quoted to have described or rather, christened “a minor genre of Yorùbá spoken art” performed by children and by adult for entertainment.

            Now, a decade-and-a-half after Babalọla published his study classifying àrọ̀, there exists only one other ground-breaking study of this genre by Ọladele Awobuluyi[3]. Awobuluyi in “On the Structure of Àrọ̀” proposes a framework, which as will be seen presently, will serve as analytical studies of àrò for a very long time to come.

            Since and in between bother of these studies, several students of the Yorùbá folk literature have undertaken collections of àrọ̀. Some, such as is contained in Wande Abímbọla and Bade Ajuwọn[4], are already in pre-publication form, and should appear in no distant future. Others exist only in preliminary transcriptions[5]. There is no doubt, however, that these collections will provide fresh material for assessing both Babalọla’s taxonomy and Awobulyi’s analytic study of the structure of àrò.

            In this short paper, I wish to present only few preliminary observations which suggest that àrọ̀ may in fact be a store-house of information about the form and functions of other literary genres in the Yorùbá folklore. The same observation suggests that we may need to transcend the level of literality which sometimes characterizes the study of the literary aspect of the Yorùbá folklore, for one. The very attempt to transcend this level of literality will find us asserting the genius of our language, the vehicle of our folk wisdom and our folk ways. For, national development, to my mind, must be founded on the result of reaching deep down into one’s essence and holding up one’s own particularities for the purpose of enriching a communal culture.

            The language of àrọ̀ suggests two major difficulties we have to overcome if we must achieve this happy goal. The first is the structural enigma of the genre. The second is the nature of the reference of the genre. In semiotic terms, we need to have an analytic knowledge of the sign and symbol of àrọ̀, that is, the nature of the linguistic medium. Furthermore, we need to identify the semantic as well as the pragmatic essence of àrọ̀.

            I wish to show that with some self-application, we are well placed to achieve a level of explanation which will allow us to say that as a symbol, the structure of àrọ̀ contains little or no “nonce-forms” at any level. Secondly, but sadly, the obscurity remarked about the meaning and functions of àrọ̀ results from the creeping demetaphorisation of our culture which, unless reversed, will cast us adrift as a people without culture.

            Awolubuyi (1971) identifies a formalism which characterizes the schematic structure, the syntactic structure, the lexical structure and the semantic structure of àrọ̀. The present discussion takes only the second and the fourth of these into consideration. The lexical structure of àrọ̀, the third, is accounted for only derivatively. I wish to state at the outset that it is impossible to detract from the integrity of Awobuluyi’s study which inspires the present discussion. On the contrary, the present works only hopes to move the study of àrọ̀ one notch forward.

            I wish to observe that since Awobuluyi finds that the various types of syntactic structure (read “sentence structures”) “employed in such poems are dictated or determined by the form of the poems themselves as manifested by the lexical schemes”(p.67), one is tempted to interprete the writer as making the following assertion: namely, that the lexical schemes which he has identified as the zig zag scheme, the crenellated scheme and various combinations of the zig zag and the crenellated schemes,  in fact, characterize any and the entire corpus of any àrọ̀ poem. The writer re-inforces this interpretation by his closing remark that this form, presumably as is recognizable in the lexical schemes he has identified,

is in part the raison d’etre of the genre, considering that it remains the same while the words used may vary. From locality to locality or be even almost totally meaningless, as in the case of the so-called versifies wordplay type, and considering also that the sentence patterns as well as the lexical coinages used are only those that guarantee the desired schemes that constitute the form of the poems.

            Now, it can be shown, that in fact, the geometric forms onto which the lexical schemes have been projected served and are motivated by underlying, and sometimes, transparent functional arguments which are educational and pragmatic in nature. Otherwise, one would be claiming that children who, like adults, are creative users not to say performers, of àrọ̀ are either metaphysicians first or that they are born with the lexical schemes innate in them.

            Furthermore, there is a sense in which all the texts illustrating Awobuluyi’ characteristic lexical schemes may be considered examples of Akinwumi Iṣọla’s[6] local rhythms which are recurrent partials possibly of varying length.

            But as indicated above, àrọ̀ lexical scheme will not pre-occupy us in this study.

On The Nonce-Forms

            Awobuluyi finds that sentences in àrọ̀ are either interrogative or statement. When they are statements and are not of the conditional constructions type, they may be paired paratactic constructions; paired sentences of which the second in subordinated to the first by means of an anaphoric element; paired sentences with identical sentences with identical subjects, the subject of the second being emphasized; or paired structurally identical sentences, one of which has undergone a change in word order as in (1)

                                   

Oòkan ùn mo f’ónígbà. Onígbá ùn fun mi ní ‘gbá. Igbá ùn mo f’ẹ́lẹ́kọ. Ẹlẹ́kọ ùn fún mi l’ẹ́kọ. Ẹkọ ùn mo fún Ifẹ́kà. Ìfẹ́kà ùn fún mi l’ọ́kà. Ọkà ùn mo f’éníṣu. Ẹnísu ùn fún mi ní ‘ṣu. Iṣu ùn mo fún ‘gùúyán. Ìgúnyán ùn fún ní yán. Iyán ùn mo f’ọ́lọ́bẹ̀.

‘The piece of cowry I gave to a calabash dealer. The calabash dealer gave me a calabash. The calabash I gave to an ẹ̀kọ maker. The ẹ̀kọ maker gave me a piece of ẹ̀kọ. The piece of ẹ̀kọ I gave to an ọkà maker. The ọkà maker gave me some ọkà. The ọkà I gave to a yam dealer. The yam dealer gave me a piece of yam. The piece of yam I gave to a pounded-yam seller. The pounded-yam seller gave me some pounded yam. The pounded yam I gave to a stew maker’.

            The fifth statement type is described as the

                                   

* type which involves single sentence with

                                    changed word order only or accompanied by

                                    anaphoric repetition”!

            as in

(2)                    Òpó tí ò gbọràn, ẹ jẹ́ á f’ẹnu rẹ̀ gbún igi.

                                    Igi tí ò gbọràn, ẹ jẹ́ á mú kan ‘ná.

                                    Iná tí ò gbọràn, ẹ jẹ́ á b’omi pa á. 28

                                   

‘If a post proves stubborn, we should

                                    ram its tip into a tree.

                                    If a tree proves stubborn, we should

                                    set fire to it.

                                    If fire proves stubborn, we should

                                    overpower it with water’.

           

Awóbulúyì apparently considers that expressions in (2) such as

                                    Òpó tí ò gbọ́ràn

           

have the same structure as

                                    Onígbá ùn fún mi nígbá

           

referring to both as sentences with changed word order.

           

As we shall see presently, this is a mistake.

            As with derived sentences, Awobuluyi observes characteristic derived lexical forms such as ‘deverbal’ nouns in the following text (his example 3, p. 62, italicising, mine.)

           

            (3)        Bí ọ̀gbìn kò bá gbìn, kini òǹhù yíò

                        wá rí hù!

                        Ọmọ, bí ònhù kò bá hù, kini òǹso yíò

                        wa rí so!

                        Bí òǹso kò bá so, kini òǹlà yíò rí la!

                        Ọmọ, bí òǹlà ko là, kini òǹyo yíò rí yo!

                        Ọmọ, bí òǹyọ kò yọ, kini òǹrà yíò rí ra!

                        Ọmọ, b’ òǹrà kò bá rà, kini òǹran yíò rí ran!

                        Ọmọ, bí òǹran kò bá ran, kini a óò rí fi sin

                        làbà Ṣàngó!

                        ‘If the planter does not plant, what do you                                                                suppose the germinator will germinate?

                        Child, if the germinator does not germinate,

                        what do you suppose the fertiliser will

                        fertilise?

                        And if the fertiliser does not fertilise,

                        what do you suppose the opener will

                        open? Child, if the opener does not open,

                        what do you suppose the picker will pick?

                        Child, if the picker does not pick, what do

                        You suppose the buyer will buy? Child if

                        the buyer does not buy, what do you suppose

                        the spinner will spin? Child, and if the spinner

does not spin, what do you suppose we shall

weave Ṣàngó’s robe with?

In (3), deverbal nouns precede their underlying verbs. Of the derived nominals, he finds that three, namely, òǹhù, òǹso and òǹlà

are nonce forms --- forms otherwise unattested in the language, having been coined in the present instance for the specific purpose of filling lexical gaps that would otherwise have rendered the achievement of the expected chain structure of the poem impossible. Such nonce forms are thus the lexical correlates of the syntactic structures with changed word order observed earlier.

(Emphasis added).

            In the opinion of the present writer, two factors may have persuaded Awobuluyi to consider both the offending derived nouns and sentence structures as in (1) above as nonce-forms. The first is sentences of the type of the first line of (1) above, repeated here as (4)

                        (4)        Oókan ùn mo f’ónígbá

and all alternate lines of the same text. Now these are suspicious sentence forms which should have been cross-checked in the field, not minding the fact that the text from which the passage comes had been recorded several years earlier.

            Notice that the argument as to whether such a sentence form is attested in the language or not can only be based on a taxonomic view of language which admits that all the sentences in Yorùbá, for example, are not only enumerable, but they are in addition finite in number. Such an argument does not ask whether (4) is generated by any rule of the Yorùbá grammar, or whether it is pragmatically interpretable to the speaker of the language. On both scores, the answer is, unfortunately, in the negative.

            If it is correct that (4) and similar sentences are not grammatical in the language, even after allowing for poetic licence, then, forms such as (5)

                        (5)        Onígbá ùn fún mi nígbá

cannot be derived from (4) by means of “a change in word order” or any such transformation. On the other hand, derivation through transformation may be argued between the two lines of (6(a)) and corresponding lines of the last two of (6(b)).

(6)(a) mo loò rárọ̀,

                        23        Tí mo já jáá já

                                    Tí mo jápa ajá

                                    Tí mo já fùlù túlù àdàbà

                                    Tí mo jálé Ọlọ́un pẹ̀rẹ́.

                                    T’Ọ́lọ́un bùn n lẹ́gbàá

                                    Tí mo nẹ́gbàá ọ̀hún

                                    Tí mo na an kóokan

                        30        Tí mo mu nu ra kànǹkàn

                                    Kànǹkàn ǹ fónígbá

                                    Tónígbá fún mi ńgbá

                                    Ti mo fún ‘wọ ọlọ́kà

                       

                        (b)        Mo móókàn ọ̀hún

                                    Mee ra kànǹkan

                                    Kànǹkàn ǹ fónígba

                                    Onígbá ǹ fún mi nígbá.

                        5          Emi ǹ fọ́lọ́ka

            Taken as transforms, lines (3), (4) and (5) of (6(b)) should have the same referents as lines 31, 32, 33, of 6(a). Thus ǹ fọ́lọ́kà in line (4) of (6(b)) refers to the agent of the predicate in line (3) of (6(b)), the same way as ǹ fún mi nígbá should be seen as being apposite to Onígbá in (6(b)) line (4). On the other hand, although ǹ fónígbá stands in apposition to kànǹkàn in both (6(a)) and (6(b)), kànǹkàn is the affected object of the predicate fún ónígbá as if to say

                                    Kànǹkan ùn fónígbá

                                    “Wash-back, gift to the calabash carver”.

           

 Translated literally then, (6(b)) should read as follows in (7)

            (7)        Mo                   móókan                                   ọ̀hún

                        I                       take single                               said

                                                piece of money           

                        Mee                             ra                                 kànǹkan

                        I apply                         buy                              ‘wash-back’

                        ‘Kànǹkan                                                        ǹ fonígbá

                        Wash-back                                                      the given to carver

                        ‘Sponge, gift to the carver’

                        Onígbá                                                            ǹ fún mi nígbá

                        Carver                                                                         (who) give me (as to) calabash

‘carver, giver of calabash to me’

                        Emi                                                                  ǹ fọ́lọ́kà

                        I                                                                       (who) give the food seller

                                  ‘Me, bestowed to the foodseller’

                       

Consider now the text in (8) taken from (Abímbọ́lá and Àjùwọ̀n, p. 253. ff.)

                                    (8)        Háà! Akọ̀pẹ náà bá múgbá 115

Ó kọrí í ‘lẹ̀

                                                Ọ́ kọsẹ̀ ‘ókè

                                                Lakọ̀pẹ́ bá mú ọ̀pẹ

                                                Lọ́ bá kọ ọ́ lódìkondì

                                                Ni ayaba bá rí i.

                                    120      “Ayabá ní “Ìwọ akọ̀pẹ; torí Ọlọ́run,

                                                Má jàá lulẹ̀ẹ”.

                                                Akọ̀pẹ ní, “Ìwọ ayaba,

                                                Ọ̀ràn ẹgbàafà bá ọ́”.

                                                Ayabá ní, le sẹ̀pà mẹ́fà dẹgbàafà,

                                    125.     Ó ní, “Ikún lọ́ lọọlé àna rẹ̀,

                                                Tó lóun le sẹ̀pà mẹ́fà dẹgbàafà,

                                                Kọ́dún ó tóó yí poo.

                                                Ikún ǹ gbìnpà,

                                                Aparò ǹ tàn án

                                   

                                    130      Aparọ̀ ọ̀ yẹ́yin méjì,

                                                Erin ọ̀ fẹ̀ ẹ́ fọ́.

                                                Erin ọ̀ tọ̀ ‘ódò

                                                Erò ǹ bù mu,

                                                Erò ǹ bù wẹ̀.

                                               

                                    135      Erò ǹ gbépo le kùkùté lórí,

                                                Kùkùté ǹ depo nù.

                                                Kùkùté ǹ hulú,

                                                Abiamọ ǹ tulú.

                                                Abiamọ ọ̀ pọnmọ lódikondì,

                                    140      Akọ̀pẹ ò rí i.

                                                Akọ̀pẹ ọ̀ kọ̀pẹ lódikondì,

                                                Ayaba ọ̀ sẹ̀ ẹ́”.

                                                Nígbà tí ayaba ọ̀ mọ ohun tí ó ṣe mo

                                                Ló bá mú ẹgbàafà,

                                    145      Ló bá gbé e fún akọ̀pẹ

                                                Akọ̀pẹ mẹ́gbàáfà,

                                                Ó gbé e fún abiamọ.

You will notice that the element ǹ alternates freely with either ò or ọ̀ from line (12b) to line (142). What is more, the same lines with the element ǹ in (8) show ò or ọ̀ in other parts of the poem from which (8) is taken. This, for lines (131) and (132), lines (66) and (67) are as given in (9)

                                    (9)    Erin ǹ tẹ̀ ẹ fọ́

                                            Erin ǹ tọ̀ ‘ódò

Given the suggested meanings of the ǹ - construction in 6(b) and (7) above, therefore. one reaches the inescapable conclusion that the ǹ element is no other than the prefixal nominalizer ò which assimilates with respect to openness (read either “tongue height” or “tongue root advance”) to the vowel in the first syllable of the predicate nominalizer.

            This same morpheme is seen at work in (10)

                       

(10)      Predicate                                 Nominal

                                    mu                   ‘drink’             ọ̀mu                 ‘drinker’

                                    ṣe ilú                ‘administer      òṣèlú                ‘politician’

                                                            town’

                                    pẹ́lẹ́ńgẹ́            ‘slender’          ọ̀pẹ́lẹ́ngẹ́          ‘the slender’

                                    kiribiti              ‘round’                        òkiribiti            ‘the round’

                                    títẹ̀                   ‘printed’          òtìtẹ̀                 ‘the which prints’

                                                                                    (òǹtẹ̀)

                                    kọ̀wé               ‘write’             ọ̀kọ̀wé                         ‘writer’

                                    kíkọ̀wé            ‘writing’          òkìkọ̀wé          ‘that which writes’

                                                                                    (òǹkọ̀wé)

At this juncture, if we look back to (3) above, it becomes clear that the nominal òǹhù, òǹso and òǹla are completely normal de-predicatized attributive formatives in the language having (11) as immediate underlying forms

                                   

(11)      òǹhù     <        òǹìhù

                                                òǹso     <         òsìso

                                                òǹlà     <         òlìlà

           

Like òpẹ́lẹ́ńgé, òkiribiti, òtìtẹ (òǹtẹ̀), òkìkòwé (òǹkòwé)

            in (10), then, the meaning of the forms in (11) are transparent and they could be glossed in

(12)      òǹhù    ‘the agent which makes things to germinate’ ‘or

‘whatever germinates’

                                    òǹso     ‘the agent which makes fructify’ or ‘whet-

                                                ever bears fruits’

                                    òǹlà     ‘the agent which  splits the pod’ or ‘pod

                                                which is opened’

Summing Up

            We have tried to show in the foregoing that what has been perceived as nonce-forms are in fact not only regular transforms in the language but they are also transparently meaningful. That they are transforms illustrates the submission at the beginning of this paper that as our linguistic explanatory tools become sharper, we shall become more and more able to fathom the depth of our language.

            The corollary does not follow unfortunately. Indeed our daily usage of our language will become increasing de-metaphorized as we become alienated from the cultural referents of our language. Thus òǹhù, òǹso and Òǹla will remain alien to an observer who has no access to the vocabulary of cotton farming among the Yorùbá.

                       

---

[1] Paper Presented at the 4^th Annual Congress of the Nigerian Folklore Society, University of Ifẹ, Ile-Ife, December 17-21, 1984.

[2] Adeboye Babalọla (1973), ‘Àrọ̀: A Minor Genre of Yoruba Spoken Art’, Fabula Vol. 7.

[3] Ọladele Awobuluyi (1974), ‘On the Structure of Àrọ̀’, African Notes VII, 1: 59-69.

[4] Wande Abimbọla and Bade Ajuwọn (forthcoming) Àlọ́ àti Àrọ̀. Ọyọ: Aims Publishers.

[5] Ọmọtayọ Olutoye and Akinwumi Iṣọla (personal communication).

[6] Akinwumi Iṣọla (1973), ‘Rhythm in Yoruba Oral Poetry’, Proceedings of African Studies Seminar, University of Lagos.