In his book, “Penpoints, Gunpoints, and Dreams: Towards a Critical Theory of the Arts and the State in Africa”, Ngugi wa Thiong’o dedicates an entire section to the concept of oral literature, and stresses its importance to the colonized African states and to the world at large. In many ways, it mirrors another of the author’s works, “Globalectics: Theory and the Politics of Knowing”, for which it actually stands as a starting point, a condensation of the ideas Ngugi will expand on.
The fourth lecture emphasizes the importance of cultural heritage, in particular that of the language for the African continent, and positions Ngugi as a strong advocate of the idea that “its artists and intellectuals [should] return to the languages of the people” (103), in order to develop and nourish the identity of African literature, as well as create a pan-African consciousness that everyone can relate to, even if they are a part of the diaspora. But how can one achieve this? The author isolates three widespread traditions upon which most of the creative products of this geopolitical space were founded. The first one is that of the linguistic agent, largely popularized by the colonial state through the increase in English and French departments in universities, and which presupposes the use of European languages in the interpretation of local history and culture. It is this particular practice which led to the uprising against colonialism and fueled the reintroduction of the second tradition, which is that of writing in the African languages. Ngugi considers this to be the stepping stone in finding the commonality between all the colonized states, the cradle of the African cultural and scientifical heritage, and demonstrates how time is the essential factor in this process rather than the dialect used (Kiswahili, Amharic, Yoruba or Zulu). The third tradition, strongly intertwined with the previously presented, is that of orality or works of imagination produced through word of mouth (105). It is by far the most important of the three, because it fosters the bulk of what Africa means, and also because it was the most vital element during the anti-colonial struggles due to its fluidity, gained by eliminating the written word as an intermediary between orality and aurality and replacing it with performance. “Each performance was a new imaginative creation” (110-11), partly because of the performers and their own state of mind, and partly because a performance was a fusion between various art forms (dance, song, riddle, myth etc.). It was this wholeness, this totality, which pushed Pio Zirimu to coin the term orature.
“Orature is the great legacy of African life and languages” (126), concludes Ngugi, and I have no other choice than to strongly agree with him. Relying on the oral to impart your cultural knowledge with the future generations and your peers, does not necessarily make you an illiterate, as common stereotypes perpetuate. In fact, it provides you with a new range of stylistical devices and methodologies, which are not applicable to the written word, and contribute to the formation of the above-mentioned identity or commonality. If the power of orature was all but an illusion (as Europe argued during the colonial era), then why would the civilized Western world continue “stealing from the peasant and the worker” (127) in order to develop itself and prosper?
Citation:
Wa Thiong’o, Ngũgĩ. “Oral Power and Europhone Glory” In Penpoints, Gunpoints, and Dreams: Toward a Critical Theory of the Arts and the State In Africa.
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