LEAF AND BONE (African Praise Poems), ed. Judith Gleason, Viking,
New York, 1980

As the subtitle suggests, here is a book providing a glimpse of the
harvests of inspiration in a number of African cultures. As the
ancient Celts and other oral peoples, those diverse cultures in
Africa south of the Sahara include many individuals enthused with
language. And, some of the vast forest of their utterances has been
recorded. A few leafs of this forest have been transmitted in the
inadequate form of English translation, suggesting the grandeur of
the expansive primeval original.

Judith Gleason has divided the book into a dozen sections. The first
is Dogon praise poetry, the second praises of various people, the
third clan praises, the fourth of women, the fifth of hunters, the
sixth of animals, the seventh of cattle, the eighth of spirits, the
ninth of divination, the tenth of healing and of the lunar months,
the eleventh of modern technology, and the last simply the words,
"Praise to the End," followed by a number of blank pages, intended,
as she writes in the introduction, for the reader's own praise
poetry.

The Dogon praised, among others: hands, hoes, beer, masks, and the
ancestors:

   Clearers of thornbush,
      Receive our morning greeting,
   You who graded clefts in the cliffs,
      Receive our morning greeting,
   You who laid the cornerstone,
      Receive our morning greeting,
   You who placed the three hearthstones,
      Receive our morning greeting,
   And you, women, who carried long-stemmed calabashes,
      Receive our morning greeting. p. 3

There are various praises in the second chapter of various people,
among whom are: an interpreter, a potter, a truck driver and a hero.

   If you cannot find me at Lake of the Spirits,
   Look for me at Lake of the Priests;
   If you cannot find me at Lake of the Priests,
   Look for me at Lake of the Spirits;
   Me, Fakoli, big mouth in a big head
   (like the hunting eagle)
   Me, Fakoli, of the five freed chiefs
   Me, a free man who dies
   Rather than be ransomed
   Me, crest of the tree (of knowledge)
   Me, backbone and magic
   Me, spine and seer. pp. 12-13

The clan praises include that of the Mpangu:

   Ancient of days in Kongo
   First to follow the king: entirely a man
   I, Mpangu, yield to none
   Descendant of Nkumbu-Nkumbu, our grandmother.
   When we set forth from Kongo
   There were nine caravans
   Nine staffs held by chiefs
   One basket of ancestral bones.
   We brought these to consecrate our chiefs
   Grass rings also.
   The roads were safe
   The villages where we put up, peaceful.
   We arrived at Nsimba ford
   There we stayed together
   We did not separate.
   We crossed many rivers
   Waters of every kind.
   One woman stayed behind
   Mother of her clan
   At Mfidi ford. p. 38

The songs about women are more dirges and lamentations than praises,
as the word is commonly understood in English:

   Mother, there is no fire in the deserted dwelling
   From which I can take a brand to light my own.
   Helpful wicker basket, coming to my aid with lumps of salt
   O Mother, I would weep blood for you, if only this were allowed
      Otire's child. p. 68

The hunters' songs, as stirring as one would expect, include this
Nyanga one:

   You, Hangi of the drum
   And you spirits, Nyamurairi, Kabira, and Nkhuba
   And you, Meshemutwa, Muhima, and Kahombo
   May you be already out there, for I'm on my way
   Help me, that I may kill much game
   Give me the benediction which endures
   That I may return from the hunt successfully.
   You, my fathers, help these dogs
   That they may put up and hold at bay
   So I need not return with an empty bag.
   You, my fathers, help us out there in the bush
   May the hunters not be wounded by thorns and brambles
   May the spear look past the dog to the game.
   You, my fathers, may we be light-footed in pursuit
   May we not stumble on roots
   May snakes get out of the way of dogs and hunters.
   You spirits, watch over us out there on the hunting grounds
   May we meet eyes glowing in the confines of the forest
   May this game wound neither dogs nor hunters! pp. 93-94

Praised, generally by hunters, are many animals, including:
butterflies, spiders and squirrels, as well as crocodiles, camels,
lions and elephants:

   They march in single file, the elephants, the mighty ones
   They go to slake their thirst.
   Let us go too! They are drinking among the thickets; hurrah!
   Listen, smothered roarings in the forest
   It is a great sound, this roaring in the forest; hurrah!
   The crying of the elephant, the mother;
   It is she who calls the hunters to the thickets;
   Hurrah! It is she who calls the hunters; ho, hurrah!
   Over there is the one with large drooping ears
   Hurrah! The big-eared one has just passed us; hurrah!
   The comrades are there, the sound of knives being sharpened
   There, from the spot where lies the slain elephant
   Hurrah! The sound of knives being sharpened; hurrah! pp. 122-123

The cattle songs include this Dinka one:

   My bull is white as silvery fish in the river
      white as the egret on the bank
      white as new milk.
   His bellowing is as the roar of the Turk's cannon
      from the distant shore.
   My bull is dark as raincloud accompanying storm.
   He is summer and winter
      half of him dark as thunderhead
      half of him white as sunshine.
   His hump shines like the morning star
   His forehead is red as the ground hornbill's wattles --
      like a banner,
      seen by the people from afar.
   He is like the rainbow.
   I shall water him at the river
      and drive my enemies off with my spear.
   Let them water their cattle at the well;
      for me and my bull, the river!
   Drink, O bull, of the river;
   Am I not here with my spear to protect you? p. 147

The spirit songs, products of animism and reverencing ancestors,
include this praise of the spirit of the Oshun River:

   Ruler of riverbed
   Great wealth is pleasing;
   She dances and takes the crown
   She dances without asking permission
   She keeps her own counsel.
   She who has children listens for their crying
   So she may take them up, tranquilly.
   She who is laden with brass ornaments;
   She eats costly gumbo without asking for credit;
   City woman
   If a woman like this moves onto the road, man flees;
   Come to the dance: she clinks her bracelets;
   Owner of the swamp dances to the drum at dawning
   She dances in the depths of richness
   She casts a calabash into marsh water as though it were sky
   She casts a plate into marsh water
   As though her soap were the open road! p. 166

The divination songs come from both Sotho bone and Yoruba Ifa
traditions:

   Ifa is master of today
   Ifa is master of tomorrow
   Ifa is master of day-after-tomorrow
   To Ifa belong all four days of the week
   Created on earth by Orisha...
   On the day Death is coming to seek me
   You are the one to shield: shelter me
   As a big leaf wraps my cornstarch pudding
   As water plentifully covers sand in the river. p. 188

The book offers sixteen medicinal praises, including:

   Odundun: Always
   Is calm;
   Be it dry
   Or rainy season,
   Water is never scarce
   Within.

      Calm
      Cool it! p. 203

The Basuto in a dozen poems praise the months, including:

   Mphalane of the gleen,
   Of the reed flutes
   Blown by elderly women;
   Broad ears sprouting from bulbs
   Of the healing leshoma. p. 204

The modern praises celebrate a bicycle and the train:

   I am the black centipede, the rusher with a black nose.
   Drinker of water, even in the fountain of witches
   And who do you say will bewitch me?
   I triumph over the man-devouring sun
   And over the impenetrable darkness
   As carnivorous animals drink blood day and night.
   I am the centipede, the mighty roarer from within; p. 215

The book also contains some twenty pages of introduction and there
is informative commentary on each of the sections. There is a lot
here for both the logical and the intuitive personality.

Michael McKenny August 31, 2002 C.E.

Solarguard Africa