Cross Cultural Symbolism in Sunjata

Sunjata is a 14th century epic lay from West Africa that recounts the events and legends surrounding the life of Sunjata, the 13th century king of the Mali empire and of the Mande people. It is an involved and communal tale full of myth and folklore told by a griot, or cultural bard. The role of the griot is not only to relate the happenings of their particular subject (in this case, the Mande king), but to shape the message in such a way as to highlight truths and mores appropriate for a specific occasion. Each telling, then, is a unique rendition of the epic poem performed – with music, verse, and commentary – in concert with a listening audience.

Intended as an oral piece, Sunjata is therefore somewhat difficult for the uninitiated to read and comprehend in written form. In fact, there are a number of different “versions” of Sunjata, often times conflicting in their details, due to the varied settings of the story. The particular source used for this discussion is the version told by the griot Bamba Suso and translated by Gordon Innes in 1974. (Bedford 26 – 47).

Despite the unfamiliarity of the form and the occasional aspect of this piece, an observant reader will quickly find cross cultural points of contact within the text. Many of the myths, characters, and symbols of Sunjata crop up throughout ancient literature. As has been noted by scholars for centuries, there seem to be certain archetypes that are part of the DNA of our psyche, if you will; symbols that cross cultures, language groups, and generations. While griot Bamba Suso may bring forth Africa-specific applications, and touch on certain life lessons that we as western Euro-Americans find a bit tricky to understand or appreciate, he nevertheless is working with a number of universal symbols that most of us can identify and identify with.

Space will not permit a thorough investigation into every archetype within the saga, but a sampling should suffice to demonstrate its cross cultural message. As has been stated, Sunjata concerns the remarkable, even magical, life of the king of Mali, who history tells us defeated a rival king, Sumanguru, and consolidated the Mande tribes to form an empire centered in Timbuktu. (20, 21) The prediction of Sunjata’s birth and his coming of age tales – and eventual deeds of greatness – are the first to echo a common motif from other epics and narratives. The divinely appointed leader, like Moses or David in the Bible, is an archetype many of us will recognize. Indeed, the “great reversal” theme (where the greatest leader arises from the lowest of positions) is found in the opening lines about Sunjata’s father responding to the prediction of a soothsayer: “If you go to Sankarang Madiba Konte and find a wife there, she will give birth to a child who will become king of the black people.”(lines 29 – 32) But after interviewing nine potential wives, the soothsayers still hadn’t discovered the right one. “Now, is there not another Sukulung?” … “There is, but she is ugly. She is my daughter.” … A soothsayer consulted the omens and then told him, “This is the one.” (lines 40 – 45) Like the shepherd boy David who grew into the greatest king of Israel, Sunjata’s humble origins will give way to an appointment with destiny.

Moreover, like King David, Sunjata assembles a group of loyal followers – in this case, griots – who defend his cause as he learns to become a great warrior. In a dramatic show of solidarity with one of his griots, Sunjata cuts off some of the meat in his calf for food so his friend will not starve. (lines 441 – 475) This brings to mind the “body and blood” of Christ eaten in a symbolic way even today by Christ’s followers to demonstrate their unity with their Savior. The idea of having a “blood brother” (a friendship that is as strong or stronger than family ties) is also found in Native American spirituality.

Another biblical allusion is in the details of the defeat of his final foe, Sumanguru. A common story element in the tale of overcoming an enemy is the discovery of some secret strength that is then used to expose the foe’s weakness (or Achilles’ heel, a la Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey). Sumanguru, like the biblical Samson, harbors a secret to his success as a warrior. And like Samson who tells his secret to Delilah, Sunjata’s sister discovers Sumanguru’s source of power. (lines 680 – 682) This information is used in the end to defeat Sumanguru, thus making Sunjata the unrivaled king of the Mande people.

As with many folk tales, there are story elements in Sunjata that are included to explain the origins of various tribal customs or cultural traditions. They don’t seem to have anything in particular to do with the epic itself, but are used by the griot in order to share valuable lessons with those assembled. Because modern readers may be unfamiliar with the oral tradition of African storytelling, the actual reading of the text may be a bit tedious at first. The version told by Bamba Suso is repetitive at times, seems to head off on a few tangents, and includes a number of allusions to tribal myths and historical events that the casual reader would miss or find confusing. But if one reads the text with an eye for broader themes, Sunjata will reveal some cross cultural symbols that most will recognize. This epic lay is an interesting exploration of how different cultures utilize similar themes and archetypes to communicate that which is most important to them.

WORK CITED
The Bedford Anthology of World Literature, Book 3, The Early Modern World, 1450-1650.
Boston, New York: Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2004.

(Note: This short essay was for a college class. If you plagiarize I can not be responsible for your grade. :-)

Spring, Finally - At Every Day Poets

A friend at SFReader - von Darkmoor, in fact - recently posted his reflection on the statue "Death of the Last Centaur." It's funny, because I participated in this same challenge a couple years ago and just had part of my sketch published in Every Day Poets. Here's the visual prompt...



... from which I based the following opening scene. Start by reading the opening scene to this opening scene at Every Day Poets (in prose poem form, titled "Spring, Finally"). Then come back and read the rest, the title for the whole narrative being "The Sorrow of Raetheos."

~*~

All but the Centaur Raetheos — Light of God — who arrives alone and with a quizzical countenance, having traversed the valley in vain search for his paramour and partner Celeste, a superior beauty among the superior creatures. They were to meet at the fountainhead in the mountain pass the day following the Chickadee’s inaugural song; when the spring’s water breaks free of winter’s icy grasp and gushes once more toward the valley floor.

Raetheos had lingered beside the spring an additional sun’s rising and setting, waving on those excited companions who were returning to their seasonal home, inviting him to join them, assuring him that Celeste would surely be waiting, as their friends were, for him below. But the Centaur knew these were but sympathetic words, without thought or knowledge of their covenant to enter gaily together as Lord and Lady of the Vale.

As Raetheos ponders this unforeseen happenstance, a creature who rarely announces its presence and is as rarely acknowledged, creeps its way to the Centaur and coils itself before the mighty beast. “O Light of God,” the Serpent breathes, “your humble servant is ever before you to honor your will and carry out your commands. I am but a willing instrument in your…”

“Yes, yes,” Raetheos responds, pounding his hooves impatiently, inching his powerful and imposing forelegs forward, threatening to crush whatever lay in his path. The Serpent, content in its despised role and accustomed to such maneuvers, confidently certain that no harm will come its way, seems to bow in obeisance and continues.

“My lord, I bring you word from beyond the mountain pass concerning the Daughter of Stars which might interest you, as I am well aware of your...”

“Enough! What of Celeste, what of my bride? Speak quickly or that long-throated, unholy tongue of yours will cease to conjure another spoken word.”

The Serpent nods and speaks, although without urgency and with feigned concern. “It is with great sadness that I must announce to you that your fair and honorable beloved has fallen in a brutal and vicious attack, an ambush of such a nature that no one is left to tell of its details. I happened upon the deathly scene within a day or two of its occurrence, too late to render aid, and the only service I know to provide is that of a herald, albeit one that is reluctant to proffer his message.”

At this the great Centaur cries out in an anguished shout that echoes throughout the valley, interrupting the ignorant levity and bliss of the rest of the animals caught up in spring’s celebration. Raetheos demands that the Serpent disseminate the exact location, time, and any further details concerning the circumstances of Celeste’s demise. Upon extracting everything pertinent from the ill-received messenger, Raetheos gathers a band of trusted advisors and friends and sets out to determine the veracity of his soul mate’s fate.

They arrive upon the scene and it is as was described by the Serpent—the stiff and pale body of the Centaur slashed through and splayed upon a dark and muddy patch of ground; a lifeless mass that, without the privilege of foreknowledge of who lies before him, is unrecognizable to Raetheos. The compatriots silently gather around the body, circling their hearts against the fear and grief they know must come, but shielding, for now, the immediate shock of despair.

The land is deserted except for patches of snow and the lingering of winter’s shade that slowly reaches out to blanket the forlorn assembly in one last act of cruelty. The funeral drizzle returns in brief defiance of the changing seasons, but for Raetheos, it could well be forever.

The End. For Now.

Stealing Buddha's Dinner by Bich Minh Nguyen

A Short Essay on the Role of Food in...
Stealing Buddha's Dinner by Bich Minh Nguyen
(part of my final exam for a multicultural literature class)

Food is an important metaphor for American culture in Bich Minh Nguyen’s memoir, Stealing Buddha’s Dinner. Growing up in Michigan in the 1980s, young Bich adores, even obsesses over, the cultural icons of that decade – from pop music to fast food and candy. She wants to consume it all. In her memoir, the role of the food she sees in commercials (“Hey, Kool-Aid!”) represents the essence of what is truly American.

Her particular family situation is insightful as to why she was so drawn to such convenience foods. While born in Vietnam, her step-mother is Hispanic, and their family lives among neighbors of Dutch descent with their blond hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. To fit in with her friends at school, Bich saw food as the great equalizer. Ethnic food proclaims one’s differences, but fast food means they are all part of one culture.

As a child the author, perhaps passively, disassociates herself from her Vietnamese heritage. While trying to blend in with her surroundings, she slowly loses her connection to her cultural community as she stops attending parties, fails to contact childhood friends, and eventually lets her native language go.

It seems young Bich is looking to the adults in the household for help in finding a middle path of incorporating into her life the variety of these cultures. Sadly, the father can’t be trusted to provide a consistent and stable presence; and her mother is too busy to teach her basic social graces. In addition, there are strong family secrets and taboos that cripple everyone’s ability to relate in healthy ways toward one another.

Her one anchor – both to the past and present – through this difficult acculturation process is her grandmother, Noi. Noi grounds Bich in her Vietnamese heritage via delicious hand-prepared food, her Buddhist faith, and nonjudgmental spirit. Still, it is not enough to overcome the yearning that Bich has for cultural acceptance. Even today, the author, through this memoir, recalls the ache of growing up different in America.

(Note: If you enjoy memoirs, this is a recommended read. I'd rate it 7 of 10.)