Draft timeline

Here is a draft timeline attempting to map the relationship between music and politics in Cote D'Ivoire. I am really hoping that it will aid me in my analysis. Notice how dense the year 1990 and the period after 2002 are? This is finally a graphical way to illustrate my argument. The problem is that I am not even close to being done!!! This is going to be so much work but I am very excited!

http://www.tiki-toki.com/timeline/entry/467423/Ivory-Coast-MusicPolitics/

Processes of social embodiment in Ivorian popular dance music

Dance is many things. Across cultures and peoples, it has often functioned as a salient instrument of expression and even at times communication. Undeniably, with its cultural codes and its symbols, dance has interested many researchers who have approached its study and analysis from a multitude of perspectives. These approaches have ranged from semiotic to psychological, and objects of study have varied from classical to folk dances. But before any serious analysis is undertaken to examine dance as a subject, it may not be redundant to recall the primary instrument through which dance is performed: the human body.

More than being a simple chassis onto which muscles, organs and skin are attached; the human body is an intricate whole, which is formed by the world but simultaneously also serves to form the world. As such, the body becomes an item that constantly evolves and is made subject to numerous societal influences and could be argued to be a reflection of the culture in which it has evolved. Thus the body is a testimony of the setting in which it has been engendered, a glimpse of the realities that shaped it. We can consider it to be the most universal and basic tool of identity creation, more important than personal names, nicknames, passports driver’s licenses and other forms official and non-official nomenclatures that assist in establishing our selves. It is hence with the body that we affirm our identities, constantly meandering between our desire for individual assertion and the laws or forces that regulate communal behaviors. As the body does not offer unlimited pliability[1], our helplessness in the face of conceding to the givens of a particular body – its physiological trappings – have often been the causes for great individual and societal struggles. Moreover as the self is captured within a physical body, the physical body is in turn also victim of the physical and cultural world and its incessant pressures. At times these pressures are deposited on the body, and can trigger reactions or require channels of evacuation. From a physical perspective it is obvious that certain triggers such as physical trauma elicit very specific somatic sensations such as pain or shock. But if as argued earlier, our bodies are as equally shaped by the world as they are able to shape it; how does the body respond to the pressures of the world?  How does it express itself when the bearings through which it previously identified itself are vigorously shaken? How do certain bodily practices serve as traces of culture and inform us of the world through which they have been crystallized?

These questions are particularly poignant in the context of dance, and its ability to be as Hanna (1979) states “a more effective medium than verbal communication to express needs or desires, or to mask intentions…”.  Dance is therefore, as posited by Hanna a meta-communicative medium that takes various forms depending upon the setting in which it is presented.  Moreover Glasser (1991) argues that dance could serve a political function, in addition to its other purposes such as entertainment, recreation, aesthetic expression etc. In what instances can a non-verbal communicative medium such as dance, serve to express political views and could certain dances ever be seen as an attempt to subvert political power – a form of resistance, or perhaps resilience? Yet in fear of being too general, it may be helpful to specify the spatial and temporal context with in which I propose to locate my analysis of dance – the urban landscape of Abidjan, the Ivorian capital in the years that led to and followed what has been defined as the Ivorian crisis. Of interest to this work are two specific musical styles/dances that emerged in the context of political turmoil – they are namely Zouglou and Coupe-Decale, two ubiquitous genres dominating the urban soundscape of Abidjan to this very day.

While considered by many to be at diametrically opposite ends of the music/dance spectrum, leading to much contention and inner tensions between adepts and performers, it is my argument that these styles actually form part of the same continuum and that one (Coupe Decale) could be considered to be the evolution of the other (Zouglou). Prior to advancing any further in the discussion, it would be useful to provide a quick contextual overview of the conditions in which these dances emerged. In a previous discussion, I try to explore Zouglou and its semantic implications by considering the origins and meanings of the terms and its trajectory from the days of inter-school sports cheerleading competitions (Wôyô) to the university protests and demands in the 1990s  - a period conterminous with a wave of democratization of the political field that swept across many African countries. Kamate (2006) describes the Zouglou dance as "a set of jerky steps with handwork that form a tense combination between incantations and street fighting. The dancer flexes his/her legs and performs a zigzagging advance while his/her hands cross each other akin to a knife-edge slicing through an imaginary body". Moreover in Zouglou terminology and amongst adepts of the genre, it is often repeated that “one does not dance Zouglou, but rather releases/liberates through Zouglou” (on ne danse pas le Zouglou, mais on libere en Zouglou). This semantic appropriation of the verb release as applied to Zouglou dance implies a primary cathartic purpose of this music/dance. Bilié Didier in his seminal 1991 song “Gboglo Koffi” provides the audience with a very overt reading key to deciphering this dance and its erratic and uncoordinated motions.

Ah! Student life is beautiful.

But there are lots of problems.

When you see a student, you get jealous.

Always Sapé[2]

Beautiful boy, without any Ghanaian products.

But one needs to step into his environment

To appreciate the misery and hardship that the student faces.

Oh! Dear God, what have we done to deserve such a fate?

And it is this manner of imploring the Lord that has spawned Zouglou.

A philosophical Dance which allows the student to meditate and somewhat forget about his problems.

Let’s dance Zouglou then.

For many West-African societies catharsis is a very important instrument to manage and regulate social tensions. From joking relationships, to satire and dance, West-African societies created through some of these behaviours and rituals, mechanisms to release mounting pressures and used them as a frame to pose a critical gaze onto society. In addition, catharsis as understood by the Greeks was a form of purification of repressed emotions through the arts.  In the context of Zouglou music, this same process could be said to be taking place as the dancer through their body finds a way to discharge the accumulated stresses that their world would deposit onto them. It wouldn’t be too far-fetched to even define stress in this context in its engineering sense as the ratio of the forces applied on a body to its surface area. Viewing the human body as a whole to which only finite amounts of pressures can be applied before rupture occurs, it may explain why an imperative existed for some societies to devise ways to rid their bodies of these pressures fearing that an emotional or physical outburst would occur. With a body constantly being affected by the tensions of the world of which it forms part and which it forms, it concurrently creates an impetus for release through bodily practices of expression and the performance of social dances in a context of social or political oppression. In the case of Zouglou music, it may be necessary to look at the political landscape of Cote D’Ivoire in the years that sustained the emergence of this particular genre – the early 1990s.

By the beginning of the 1990s, a decade had already passed since Ivory Coast had been subject to structural adjustment measures imposed by the Breton Woods Institutions. In the face of systematic mismanagement of funds and endemic instances of what Paul Bayart has termed “politics of the belly”, the Felix Houphouet Boigny government was forced to implement drastic austerity measures through all layers of society. Students who had until then benefited from full bursaries from the state and enjoyed a rather satisfying lifestyle were now hardly even supplied with semi-bursaries. Moreover, university campuses suffered from chronic overpopulation as flocks of students arrived in facilities that had originally been designed to accommodate a significantly fewer headcount.  Of importance to also note is a key speech that has significantly marked the imaginaries of many Africans. Delivered to African presidents by Francois Mitterand, then president of France, in the coastal city of La Baule in a post-fall-of-the-Berlin-wall context, this speech stressed to African leaders that the only way to achieve sustainable economic development was to democratize their political field as excerpted below:

But I want to say this: just as much as there is a vicious circle between debt and underdevelopment, there is another vicious circle between economic crisis and the political policy. One feeds the other. Therefore it is appropriate to examine together how we could, on the policy level have a number of institutions and ways of being that could help restore confidence, and at times trust between people and their leaders, and also between one State and other States, in any case trust between Africa and developed countries.

…

We need to talk about democracy. It is a universal principle that has just appeared to the people of Central Europe as absolute evidence to the point that in the space of a few weeks, regimes considered as some of the strongest, were upset. The people were in the streets and in squares, and the Old Power feeling its fragility, ceased all resistance as if it knew that it already was, and for a while now, emptied of its substance.

…

We must understand that this wave will go around the entire planet. This is something we know very well: the occurrence or glaciations or warming on either of the poles now affects the whole world. This is a reflection that should not remain in the realms of climatology; it also applies to the society of men! ... At last, we breathe, at last we hope, because democracy is a universal principle.

…

If there is dispute in a State, well, have the leaders of these countries discuss it with their citizens. When I speak of democracy, I am tracing a path, I am saying that it is the only way to reach a state of equilibrium when the need for greater freedom arises. I obviously have a scheme ready made which consists of: representative systems, free elections, a multiparty system, freedom of the press, independence of the legal system, the rejection of censorship etc. Such is the scheme that we have at our disposal.

Even if on the surface this speech exalted the importance of democratic systems for African nations; it was also connoted with a message implying that from this point forth, France would establish a selective aid policy favoring those African States which had implemented an effective democratic system of rule.  Nonetheless, the aforementioned events served as catalysts leading to an increase in demands for an end to the single-party ruling system in Cote D’Ivoire, and the university of Abidjan’s campus served as the primary locus for the formation of many anti-regime ideologies. It is also in these years that the FESCI (Student Federation of Cote D’Ivoire - Federation Estudiantine de Cote D’Ivoire), emerged as a dissenting voice against the MEECI (Students and Pupils Movement of Côte d'Ivoire-Mouvement des Etudiants et Elèves de Côte d'Ivoire), believed by many to simply be an extension of the PDCI-RDA – Cote D’Ivoire’s only legal political party. It is also in this climate of political turmoil, that the Zouglou dance formalized its own ideologies and acquired a definite form.

From this illustration, we see how spatial (university campus) and temporal (1990s) influences from their world have affected the precursors of Zouglou to generate empowering dances containing narratives of subversion. If the Zouglou dancers ended up imploring a higher power (God) in order to liberate their selves from their problems, it is because they felt their government failed to meet its obligations. With its eccentric motions – qualified by some as resembling those of a disjointed puppet – and its self-mocking name[3], Zouglou embodies a spirit of derision already present in ancient forms of African orature tracing their roots back to the Mali empire and its famed griots. This recurring idea of the emancipation of suppressed feelings through the act of dancing is once again connotative of the cathartic function I mentioned earlier.

But these emblematic early 1990s along with their climate of world agitation and their winds of democratic change were not eternal. By the year 1993, Felix Houphouet  Boigny was no more and left behind a political scene that hadn’t been prepared for his succession. Beginning with the elections of 1995, boycotted by most of the opposition parties, the country began a descent into a state of increasing political turmoil. In 1999, a mutiny that turned into a Coup D’État deposed President Henry Konan Bédié of his function, placing the General Robert Guéï as temporary head-of-state in a bloodless military operation. Termed by many as Santa Claus in fatigues, Guéï initially enjoyed unanimous popularity since he – as he liked to claim – had only come to sweep the house. However, his discourse quickly changed and he soon announced his decision to bid his candidacy for the highest office. Riding on the xenophobic ideology of Ivoirité already put to use by his predecessor, Guéï further modified the electoral code to disqualify most of his opposition believing it would ensure him victory.  However, it was not Rober Guéï, but Laurent Gbagbo – one of Félix Houphouët Boigny’s most vehement opposants – who won by universal suffrage. Two years into his rule, on September 19th 2002, Gbagbo and Cote D’Ivoire were once again victims to another coup attempt.  Rebels probably coming from southern Burkina Faso failed to capture Abidjan, but managed to take a hold of strategic cities the northern part of the country such as Bouaké and Korogho. In Abidjan, a general sentiment of fear reigned as curfews were put into effect. Announcements on TV and on the radio informed the population of the advance of the assailants[4] aggravating the general feeling of anxiety already present in Abidjan. In the words of many Ivorians, it was a period during which they were “too sad” – a time of extreme anguish. Inhabitants of Abidjan who had until then developed a festive culture, started feeling the oppression of their situation. For the first time in its history, all of Abidjan was plunged into a slumber by 6 pm.

It is in this context of deep societal anguish that Douk Saga, a young Ivorian man who had been residing in Paris arrived in Abidjan, bringing with him a flamboyant dress style, peculiar dance steps and a musical style reminiscent of Congolese Rumba and Ivorian Zouglou. It is thus that Ivorians discovered Coupé Décalé, a neo- popular dance music genre with a very clear message: Let’s dance! Let’s party! Let’s be joyous! But how does one dance when one’s country is experiencing its most debilitating military and political crisis? Does being joyous at such a grave juncture imply a form of irresponsibility? Would it have been a more appropriate response to participate in the patriotic surge that encroached the spirits of so many Ivorians during that time? It is impossible to even attempt to shine to glimmer of light onto these complex questions without first realizing that West-Africans, and Ivorians in particular, use fundamentally different tools to cope with suffering. This dawned at a very unexpected occasion which I am hoping to illustrate through the following anecdote.

A couple of weeks ago, a friend of mine who’d lost his dad invited me to the funeral. We had met a couple of weeks earlier for an interview and had developed a bond. It was very important to him that I attend, and I, fearing to break some courtesy code cleared my agenda for this event. I arrived late with a friend, cautiously making our way across the open-air plaza. Chairs had been laid out on both axes of the stage offering guests a central view of the action unfolding in front. Above us, a streetlamp tinted the scene in golden shades with its soft shimmers of light. We sat as the sermon was coming to an end. As the preacher left, leaving his final benediction behind, the stage opened a Wôyô orchestra. Soon, the patrons’ faces which had until then been sealed with expressions of grief loosened up. A gentleman in a red T-shirt leapt unto the stage, beginning an energetic performance to the sounds of the drums. Never once expunging the grin on his face, he filled the space tracing winding lines as he went from one end of the stage to the next. Soon, women dancing in the same manner followed him and a dancing rainbow made of men and women donning bright garments formed onto the stage. This approach to mourning profoundly puzzled me, and I queried my friend Willy.

“Why are they dancing?”, I asked.

Pausing for a moment as if to gather his thoughts, he replied “Well it is to accompany the deceased”.

“But, isn’t a funeral supposed to be about mourning? This looks more like a party to me.”

“Yes, but we were sad earlier when the preacher was there. We cannot always be sad.  There is a time for mourning, and there is a time for rejoicing.”

Through Willy’s words I realized that Douk Saga’s attitude of joy in the face of military or political hardship was neither irresponsible nor unpatriotic. It constituted a form of resistance against forces attempting to disturb the existing conditions. Using music and dance, Douk Saga and Ivorians have managed to, as Mbembe so eloquently put it, use “music as a celebration of the ineradicability of life, in a long life-denying history.”  The Coupe Decale artists surely managed to use their lifestyle to affect the imaginaries of Ivorians such that their music “expressed, in the most haunting way, a raging desire not only for existence but more importantly for joy in existence – the practice of joy before death” (Mbembe, 2001). It is thus through this lens that Coupe Decale could essentially be considered as a mouvement de joie (joyful movement). Dancing during hardship should then no longer strike us an oddity, but rather a necessity. It is in periods of great grievances that the body needs to express itself the most, it is also in these periods that dancing becomes paramount as an instrument to battle forces attempting to contest our very humanity. 

[1] even though current advances in the fields of medicine and technology have pushed the limits of the dynamics of bodily alteration)

[2] Sape: Société des Ambianceurs et des Personnes Élégantes (The Society of Merry and Beautiful People). An acronym and culture which emerged in Zaire in the late 70s and was a form of protest against Mobutu’s regime. Today the term is used widely across French-speaking Africa and is synonymous with "well-dressed”.

[3] Origins of the term Zouglou remain blurry. However, the preferred etymology alludes to the Baoulé term Zuglu which means garbage, odd, or junk.

[4] This is the term which has been used to designate the rebels throughout the decades that shaped the Ivorian crisis.