Wednesday 4 March 2015

Until the lions learn to speak...


Until the lions have their own historians, the history of the hunt will always glorify the hunter. - Igbo Proverb that I first heard from Chinua Achebe. 

A couple of weeks ago, I placed a phone call to a famous African dance choreographer. Before fully introducing my intentions, I was cut short by a confrontational monologue onset by my use of the term “anthropology”. In his opinion, anthropologists often misunderstand African dance, and consistently insist on categorizing it “ethno-“ or “folk”. These terms, according to him, could by extension presuppose a euro-centric or at least condescending gaze towards African culture. Moreover, it contributed to the reinforcing of a “black skin complex” in Africans developed through centuries of slavery, forced labor, colonization and messages encoded in popular culture. This resulted in occidental gaze framed by a superiority complex and centuries of asymmetrical power relations between African and the West. As such, descriptions of African societal elements made by anthropologists and other researchers often failed to accurately depict the cultures they aimed to study. Despite my interlocutor’s initial abrasiveness, I found his points to be quite pertinent. His eloquence in French further kindled my curiosity. What encounters did this person have with anthropology to leave him with such a negative view of the discipline? How was the concept of this “black skin complex” linked to the theory of African dance? While these questions were not initially related to my original topic of study, they intrigued me nonetheless and compelled me to arrange to meet with him.

During the genesis stages of this Renaissance project, my faculty advisor informed me that any properly designed research project needed at least one or a few clearly defined research questions. It hence became necessary for me to identify a gap knowledge that needed filling. While this may seem basic to seasoned researchers, it is important to remember that through the lens of an undergraduate student whose major was engineering, this was a novel and quite difficult challenge. As a result, I struggled with the formulation of my questions and they kept growing and evolving as my own research progressed. I eventually settled on the relationship between the factors that influenced the emergence of certain dance styles in Ivory Coast between 2002 and 2010 (the official period recognized as the “Ivorian crisis”). How did the dances embody some of the social and political tensions that were palpable in Cote D’Ivoire at the time? Yet from my literature review, I noticed that a vast majority of the research undertaken on the subject analyzed Coupe Decale from a point of entry that never seemed to address the “dance” dimension of the music. Yet, it has often been recognized by others that in African modes of expression, music and dance were intrinsically linked. Sylvia Glasser for example argues that an inextricable link exists between dance and music in African cultural forms of expression. The music is part of the dance and vice versa. (Glasser, 1991). This nexus is so intimate that often the two cannot be dissociated. How then, in addition to all the limitations faced in the acquisition of empirical data, could Coupe Decale deserve a complete analysis if such a core aspect of this music was omitted? 

I aim to argue that in order to completely understand this style, one needs to consider it from a holistic music/dance approach viewed as a single continuum. Just like Albert Einstein demonstrated that space and time were indivisibly wrapped together in a single fabric, I am convinced that unless Coupe Decale is analyzed by also including some of its corporeal dimensions, only a partial picture can be painted. It is important to clarify that this picture is by no means useless. It effectively provides answers to various questions related to the social and economical depictions of power and social mobility expressed by some of its actors. These answers certainly nourished my inquiries and laid the foundations for my own research. Einstein’s theory of general relativity did not make Newtonian physics obsolete, au contraire it enriched these theories and demonstrated that depending on the scale, both approaches could hold. It is simply a matter of perspective.

However, both Newton and Einstein had at their disposal a kit of mathematical tools developed over millennia of human inquiry and research in physics. In my own case, I do not have this advantage. The study of dance in general, and African dance in particular, is so recent and at times so subjective that it may be impossible to favor one theoretical framework over another. My interlocutor agreed with me. In addition, he believed that the tools currently developed based on anthropological and ethno-musicological (a term he particularly despised) had a certain bias and inappropriately captured various dimensions of African music. In his opinion African music, and by essence African culture, could only be truly be explicated if the account was told by African people. His answer to the problem was to develop a method that attempted to codify African dance that he theorized in his book the “Alphabet of African Dance”. He qualifies his approach as simply an avenue of research, and not a preemptory response to the problem (Tierou, 2015).  In this book, he asks among other things “Where are the works on traditional African dance produced by Africans? Where are the analyses, the writings, the publications, the fruits of research within the African institutions coming from African researchers and artists, like those by the American, European, Chinese, Japanese, Russian, Canadian, Australian researchers for their own dances? The five positions of classical dance, for example, are the result of the reflections of Pierre Bauchamp, the choreographer of Louis XIV in the 17th century”. (Tierou, 2015)

Such themes have been recurrent throughout my interactions with diverse interlocutors. One Ivorian reggae artist even told me “We’re sick of the stigma white people have looking at our cultures. Why do they call our music “ethno-“ while theirs isn’t considered such? The only reason I am talking to you is because you’re a young African trying to write about Africa”.  These words immediately stirred my stomach and gave me butterflies. On the one hand I felt immense pride because I felt I was contributing in part to a form of African renaissance (or at least a shift in social consciousness); but this was associated with a very powerful sense of responsibility. For the first time, the stakes of this project no longer felt personal or even academic. They were suddenly global. The category of African music and dance needs deconstruction and reconstruction. If I do a good job, I could be a part of this reshaping process by telling the story from a different vantage point. Maybe the lions have finally learnt to speak, and are eager to tell their own tales of the hunt. That, in my opinion, is huge.



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