Akínwùmí Ìṣọ̀lá[1]
I. The apparent
neglect of children’s literature in African Languages by creative writers and
critics alike raises fundamental questions about our conception of the role
literature plays in the socialisation of the child. Whereas the adult Yorùbá
has a good number of literature books (many of them well-written) to choose
from, the child hardly has any respectable choice. The unbelievably poor
content quality and low literary standard of the few that exist (some of them
mere translations from the dubious originals) cannot fail to embarrass anyone
who cares about what our children should read.
I am
painfully aware of being out of my depth in the area of current theories on
educational methodology, but with the growing global recognition of the powers
of literature, I find it necessary to publicly lament our inability to liberate
ourselves from the cobwebs of colonial and neo-colonial delusion that is
preventing us from giving to our children a body of written literature that can
equip them better for the future struggles ahead.
What I
intend to do in this paper therefore is first to discuss what used to be
readily available as oral literature for children among the Yorùbá but which is
fast disappearing, then to review the present situation with an attempt to
explain what went wrong and finally to suggest possible guidelines for remedial
action that may lead to an improvement of written literature for children.
II Language is
the abiding place of culture and literature provides its illumination. If
culture denotes, according to Geertz;
an historically transmitted pattern of meanings embodied in
symbols, a system of inherited conceptions expressed in symbolic forms by means
of which men communicate, perpetuate and develop their knowledge about, and
attitudes towards life (Geertz, C. 1975: 89).
The potent tool usually used for communicating, perpetuating
and developing that knowledge is oral literature. The socialization of children
into Yorùbá culture is through poetic language where rhythm is deliberately
foregrounded. In fact, at the very beginning, it is all rhythmic sound and
movement with no intention of any verbal communication. Any patterned sound and
any patterned movement would do. Although the intention here is to pacify the
crying child, the action indirectly sensitises the child to rhythm in sound and
movement. This may be the origin of the observation that the African race is
more sensitive to rhythm (in poetry and dance) than most other races.
A little
later, real words are introduced. Although the child does not yet understand any
speech, he is now getting accustomed to the sound patterns of the language in
addition to the rhythm in popular lullabies like:
Iya
rẹ̀ o ò
Wáá
gbé e o!
(Mother,
Come
and carry your child).
Taa
ló nà án o?
Ìyá
ẹ̀ ni
Ó
gbọ́mú rodò,
(Who
beat this child?
It’s
the mother.
She
has gone to the river with her breasts
She’ll
soon be back).
Ògbùró
o,
Kò
roko,
Ògbùró
o, kò rodò
Bó
bá ji a gbọ́bẹ̀ kaná
Jẹba
tan a sekùn rondo.
Ọmọ
ọlọ́rọ̀ tii jẹyin awó.
(Ògbùró
(name of child) he goes to no farm
Ògbùró,
he goes to no river
He
wakes up and warms the stew,
He
eats ẹba, his bally becomes extended.
It’s
the rich man’s son who eats guinea fowl’s eggs).
or
Délé
ńkọ́ o?
Ó
wà nílé o,
Ó
sùn jabura sì yàrá o.
(Where
is Dele?
He’s
at home.
He’s
fast asleep inside the room).
There are numerous other examples (see Sheba , 1988)
which can be a rich source of material for a writer of literature for children
who want highly patterned poetry where content is not emphasised.
The content
of the poems gradually changes when the child has started to speak. To
facilitate language acquisition tongue-twisters are available to drill the
child on the pronunciation of certain consonant combinations, e.g.,
Àgbọn
ń gbágbọn gàgbọn
(A
coconut fruit is carrying a coconut fruit and climbing a coconut palm).
Adìẹ
funfun má funfun nífunfunkífunfun mọ́
(White
hen, stop being white in such an objectionably white fashion).
Ọ̀pọ̀bọ
gbọ́bọ bọ̀gbẹ́
Bóò
bá tètè gbọ́bọ bọ̀gbẹ́
Ọ̀bọ
ó gbe ọ bọ̀gbẹ́.
(he
kills a monkey and hides it in the bush.
If
you don’t quickly throw the monkey into the bush.
The
monkey will throw you into the bush).
Strictly speaking, the tongue-twisting is untranslatable.
The consonants are arranged in such a way as to make pronunciation hazardous.
Similar to
tongue-twisters, but serving as aide-memoirs for counting, are certain mnemonics.
They are so composed to help the child remember counting from one to ten.
Couched in poetic language, they are easier to recall than dry numbers. Here
are some examples:
Eni
bí enì (1)
Èjì
bí èjì (2)
Ẹta
ǹ tagbá (3)
Ẹ̀rin
wọ̀rọ̀kọ́ (4)
Àrún ǹ gbódó (5)
Ẹ̀fà
ti èlè (6)
Bóró
n bóro (7)
Aro
ní bàtá (8)
Mo
jálákẹ̀sán (9)
Gbangba
lẹ̀wá (10)
The following one serves both as aide-memoirs and also as
practice in long-breathing. It is a poem you have to recite from line one to
ten in one long breath. If you stop to breathe you have to start all over
again.
Ká
múgbá lámù fi dámù, ó denì,
Ká
múgbá lámù ká fi dámù, ó dèjì,
Ká
múgbá lámù ká fi dámù, ó dẹ̀ta,
Ká
múgbá lámù ká fi dámù, ó dẹ̀rin
Ká
múgbá lámù ká fi dámù, ó dàrún
Ká
múgbá lámù ká fi dámù, ó dẹ̀fà
Ká
múgbá lámù ká fi dámù, ó dèje
Ká
múgbá lámù ká fi dámù, ó dẹ̀jọ
Ká
múgbá lámù ká fi dámù, ó dẹ̀sán
Ká
múgbá lámù ká fi dámù, ó dẹ̀wá.
(Lift the calabash off the water-pot and cover it back, it
is one.
Lift the calabash off the water-pot and cover it back, it is
two.
Lift the calabash off the water-pot and cover it back, it is
three.
Lift the calabash off the water-pot and cover it back, it is
four.
Lift the calabash off the water-pot and cover it back, it is
five.
Lift the calabash off the water-pot and cover it back, it is
six.
Lift the calabash off the water-pot and cover it back, it is
seven.
Lift the calabash off the water-pot and cover it back, it is
eight.
Lift the calabash off the water-pot and cover it back, it is
nine.
Lift the calabash off the water-pot and cover it back, it is
ten.)
These poems
provide solid foundations in language acquisition and the fruits of the
experience are reaped throughout life.
Some of these
poems actually introduce the child the first rudiments of language analysis.
There are short poems that describe pints of articulation for certain sounds,
and others that describe body position or body movement for certain activities.
The following poem describes various positions of the lips, cheeks and the head
when particular sounds are pronounced:
Eni
tí ó ó pe tọ́rọ́ a sẹnu tọ́ọ́sín
Àgbà
tí yóó pa sísì a fẹ èrìgì
Àpèwúùkẹ́
là á pÀwááwù.
Àpèforísọ̀pó
lẹgbẹ̀ẹ́dọ́gbọ̀n.
(To
say tọ́rọ́ your lips protrude
To
say sísì the lips must spread
To
say Àwááwù, your cheeks are blown.
Ẹgbẹ̀ẹ́dọ́gbọ̀n
is said as if you would knock your head
against a post).
The child enjoys the poem, but the embers of the future
linguist in him are being stoked.
Special
bodily postures, assumed in some daily activities, is the subject of the
following poem:
Báá
nùdí, ìkún làá mú,
Ẹni
tí yóò lé tìróò, a tẹ́ pẹpẹ ẹnu.
Òṣùkú-ǹ-sùkú,
Orí
ẹni ti ń lọta kò níí gbé bìkan.
(To
clean your anus, your knees knock each other,
To
put antimony on your eye lashes, you spread and flatten your lips.
Up-and-down
The
head of one who grinds pepper cannot be stable.)
Although these are common every day activities, the humorous
poem will force the child to pay special attention when next he sees any one
engaged in any of the activities mentioned.
Although
proverbs are the special preserve of elders, the fact that they are used every
so often in the presence of children sometimes sets the child thinking.
Proverbs arise from close observation of phenomena, they are like axioms,
widely accepted for their intrinsic value and self-evident truth. So, when
adults want to present any information as universal truth, they do so through a
proverb. The value of proverbs to the child however is that some of them are
sources of amazing summaries of empirical observation, the veracity of which
the child may want to investigate later in life. For example the proverb:
Bílẹ̀
bá ká akọni mọ́
A
jẹ̀dò ẹkùn
(When the valiant is about to be humiliated, he eats tiger
liver, i.e., takes poison).
I had wondered from the first day I heard this proverb, some
forty years ago, whether tiger liver is indeed poisonous. There is another
proverb that says:
Bí
sòbíà yóò bá degbò, Olúgbànbe là á ké sí.
(when a guinea-worm attack leaves a sore, you should seek
the help of the Olúgànbe plant).
The proverb may be used to illustrate relevant points, but
the direct observation it contains points to a remedy for guinea-worm sore,
which may have a general application for other stubborn sores. Proverbs like
the above keep the child wondering. They keep him asking whether statements
contained in them are true, and they may trigger off future investigations and
important discoveries.
Of the
literary genres for children, folktales are of great value for indirectly
introducing the child to the socio-political problems of the society because
the folktales of a people tend to serve as commentaries on their fears and
aspirations. A community of poor people will invariably create in their
folktales desirable reversals of roles: the poor miraculously becoming rich. A
rich community will prefer folktales where rogues and other criminals are
punished, So, in the Yorùbá society,
folktales are woven around two important themes (among others):
Àlá
Ọ̀ṣọ́ (dreams of prosperity – for the poor)
and
Àlá ìṣẹ́ (nightmares of bad fortune
– for the rich).
By
listening to these folktales therefore, the child may begin to have a feeling
of some of the social and economic relations that exist in the society. Through
folktales, he acquires some of the humorous explanations for certain phenomena.
Folktales in general, because they contain allegorical fantasy, tend ample
practice when he takes his turn at story telling sessions. Serious efforts to
adapt folktales for written children literature will be very rewarding. Riddles
are also another source of practice for decoding metaphors.
The various
songs that normally accompany many activities in the community also provide
good source materials for written literature. Appropriate songs accompany wrestling matches, moonlight
games and some simple social ceremonies.
In the
Yorùbá society of not too long ago, the literary practices described above were
robustly evident. Today the picture is embarrassingly very different.
III. Culture is
behaviour typical of a group or class. But since that group or class is of
living people with a history, culture
cannot escape the effects of the course of history. This dynamic nature of
culture explains the present cultural confusion in the Yorùbá society. Colonialism
intervened and we now have significantly different social and economic
relations of production which now determine our social order.
The old
social institutions that ensured the continuity of certain cultural practices
have become irrelevant and the discontinuation of ceremonies connected with
them has caused the death of the literature they engendered.
The rude
intervention of two foreign religions, active companions of colonialism, has
dealt devastating blows to many major aspects of Yorùbá culture. The fatal
effects of the foreign religious disaster have led to the virtual disappearance
of Yorùbá oral poetry for children. What we now have in its place is a pitiable
parody of western nursery rhymes taught by half-baked local teachers in senile
repetition. Even illiterate women hardly now remember good nursery rhymes in
Yorùbá.
An
illiterate wife of a semi-illiterate worker composed a rhyme that utterly
embarrassed her husband and friends. Because the husband was fond of calling
everybody “bastard”, the wife grew to like the sound of the word and started
singing the rhyme to pacify her crying child:
Tájù
bastard
Tájù
bastard
Bàbá
ẹ̀ bastard
All
important social ceremonies have completely been taken over by semi-illiterate
men of God who continually apply the form of faith, predicting the eschatology
as if religion and morality were happy couples.
The
explanation for all this, of course, is that religion is produced by real-life
economic conditions and that is why it has such a strong hold on men. It is the
result of a continuation of “a social order is which men’s destiny escapes
their control” (C. Slaugher, 1980:31). They have to look for sucour somewhere,
anywhere. Some oppressed Nigerians move rapidly from one religion to another
looking for salvation from a problem created by the oppressive economic
conditions.
The Moslem
belief of man-as-slave and God as ruthlessly revengeful on the one hand and the
Christian notion of the ineradicable sin of man and the horrible punishment
prepared for the unbelieving on the other hand, as forcefully preached by
dervishes, have sufficiently battered the new generation into a state of near
mindlessness that precludes thought, let alone creative analysis. With such fatal
lack of dialogue with the natural environment, men now rely on religious
teachings to supply their songs and poetry, ignoring the substance of reality
for the chloroform of religion.
The average
Yorùbá child today has not learnt much Yorùbá nursery rhymes. They all chant
“bah bah black sheep” in a country where the sheep hardly produces any wool. He
cannot tell any Yorùbá folktales. He has never heard any tongue-twisters
repeated. He cannot remember any proverbs. The most popular Yorùbá song he
loves is “Ó sé o Jésù” (Thank you Jesus). He does not know his natural
environment. And because he has not mastered the Yorùbá language, he has no
access to information about Yorùbá culture. It is not his fault. He is a victim of an oppressive socio-economic
condition which has attacked the very source of cultural information.
In spite of the fact that the foreign religious drug
is being advocated with hysterical enthusiasm, our society remains evidently
not yet redeemed. So, we have the urgent task of vigorously struggling against
these redemptive creeds that have deformed our culture.
IV. Before
discussing possible guidelines for remedial action, it is necessary to
emphasise this fact that any political struggle that does not have a strong
cultural revival policy is ignorantly cutting off a rich area of our possible
contributions to world civilisation. I like to quote Terry Eagleton here:
Imperialism is not only the exploitation of cheap labour
power, raw materials and easy markets, but the uprooting of languages and
customs – not just the imposition of foreign armies, but of alien ways of
experiencing. It manifests itself not only in company balance sheets and in
air-bases, but can be traced to the most intimate roots of speech and
signification. In such situations which are (right here with us) culture is so
vitally bound up with one’s common identity that there is no need to argue for
its relation to political struggle. It is arguing against it which would seem
incomprehensible.
(T.
Eagleton, 1983:215).
Although the new cultural policy provides for the revival of
relevant aspects of our culture, it is clear that we cannot bring back that
past era of a glorious traditional Yorùbá culture. It is gone forever. In fact,
the belief that if you went deep into the villages in the rural areas you would
still find authentic aspects of our culture, is erroneous. Christian and Moslem
songs have virtually replaced Yorùbá traditional songs at marriage and funeral
ceremonies.
In the
present circumstances, the first urgent step to take is the launching of a
massive programme for the collection of all extant oral children literature-lullabies;
nursery rhymes; tongue-twisters: counting mnemonics; language games/codes;
moonlight game songs; wrestling songs; riddles and jokes; proverbs; folktales
and others. These should be extensively collected and preserved.
Since our
goal is the generation of written literature for children, the second step will
be to encourage gifted creative artists to be guided by such collected
materials in writing literature books for children. In writing such books
however, writers should do the selection of material and the creative
presentation in the best way to get the relevant progressive message across to
the children. There should be an improvement on the traditional mode of
presentation which exhibited a lot of glaring contradictions.
Àdá
lẹnu tálíkà
Igbó
la ó fi sán.
(A poor man’s mouth is a mere
cutlass, We’ll use it to clear the bush).
or
Ẹjọ́
olówó kọ́
Bí
tálíkà bá pọ̀ o.
Bólówó
ń se bẹbẹ
Òtòsì
a roko igi.
(It
is not the rich men’s fault
That
there are many wretched people
When
the rich has a celebration
The
poor will fetch firewood).
When such poems are used, they should be put in such
contexts that will clearly show the contradictions, and countered by such other
poems that present a correct assessment of the conditions. Positive poems
should be preferred to reactionary ones. Example of positive poems are:
Ìwọ
kọ́ lo dá mi,
O
se ń sọ̀rọ̀ bí Olódùmarè
Ìwọ
kọ́ lo dá mi
(You
are not my creator
Why
are you talking like God the almighty.
You
are not my creator).
or
Àìtọ́wọ̀ọ́
rìn ejò ló ń sekú pa wọ́n,
Bọ́ká
bá saájú, tí paraṃọ́lẹ̀ tẹ̀lé e,
Tí
òjòlá ń wọ́ riri bọ̀ lẹ́yìn
Taa
ló le dúró?
(It is because snakes do not move about together that they
are easily killed.
If the python takes the lead, followed by the viper.
And the boa-constrictor comes from the rear, Who would wait?)
Folktales
that teach the values of team work and dedicated struggle against oppression
should be chosen over those that present the condition of the poor as hopeless
We are not
advocating here a naked presentation of any ideology at this level. That kind
of approach may be counterproductive. What we are saying is that the stories or
poems themselves should be such that can help children get a correct
understanding of their society. There is plenty of room for good-natured fantasy
and creative imagination, but care should be taken that education is not tarred
with the same brush as religion.
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[1]
This paper
was published as Isola, Akinwumi (1990), ‘Oral
Literature as Source for Written Literature in Yorùbá’, in Seminar Series No 2, edited by T.M. Ilesanmi, L.O. Adewọle and
B.A. Oyetade. Ile-Ifẹ, Nigeria: Department of African Languages and Literatures.
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