Petit Yode and L'enfant Siro's "President" - An ethnographic analysis

President by Petit Yode and L'enfant Siro (2002)  

In 2002, it was against a background of revolts, rebellion and political turmoil that president Laurent Gbagbo was sworn into office. As the release of their album was coincidental with these events, it may have seemed fitting for Petit Yode & L’Enfant Siro to include a song discussing the socio-political conditions of Ivory Coast at the time, specifically as they related to Laurent Gbagbo’s rise to power. Even though the song only offers a limited amount of mostly textual data, accessible only through its lyrics, there is still value in dedicating efforts to study it so as to better comprehend the complex socio-political context of Ivory Coast in that particular era (i.e. 2002-2010).

Prior to diving into a semantic analysis of the song’s lyrics, it may be more important to initially note the genre in which this song is performed. This song is in fact delivered in the Zouglou genre, a musical style noted for being contentious and used to denounce the ills of society. Yet, the song’s message seems to oppose this convention since the artistes appear to offer their support the newly elected president. The phrase “C’est toi mon president” (translated: you are my president) chorused through the song suggests evidence of such support. As the artistes juxtapose these genre conventions against this non-dissenting message, questions immediately come to mind. Is this a simple appropriation of the genre for other purposes (i.e. the stage of social reconstruction as described by Emielu in his social reconstructionism model[1])? Or were there perhaps other social and political forces present in Ivory Coast at the time that limited the autonomy Yode & Siro’s discourse?

It is worth noting that even though the country was divided between government-controlled and rebel factions, the discursive space offered through music at the time remained heavily controlled and influenced by the government, even if indirectly.  Thus, any musician (or artist for that matter) who openly criticized the established power was automatically labelled as “anti-patriotic” and was quickly ostracized from society. Iconic musician Tiken Jah Fakoly and writer Ahmadou Kourouma are examples of such artists who confronted Laurent Gbagbo’s politics and were subsequently forced into exile. As the country became partitioned due to conflict, so did the music. Songs produced during that period fell into one of two categories “Loyalist/Patriotic” music and “Other” music.

This song may be said to belong to the “Other” category but also forms part of an emerging genre of popular African music termed by Daniel Künzler and Uta Reuster-Jahn as the “Mr President: musical open letter” (Künzler & Reuster-Jahn, 2012). If these artistes expected to gain any form of government-sponsored airplay, they needed to exercise a certain level of obligatory self-censorship. However, if actions can at times speak louder than words, one can speculate that their decision to sing this song in the contentious Zouglou style is perhaps a shy, yet muted expression of resistance against the new political order. Many Zouglou artistes chose, after all, to either remain silent during this period or switch to the less lyric-centric styles (e.g. Coupe-Decale).

By using heavy metaphors associated with sports (most likely soccer), the song describes the new president as an ex-, and heavily critical spectator of the political scene who has now been bestowed with referee duties.  The performers warn him that all the criticisms he used to cast on other political actors will in turn be cast on him.

Original	Translation
Aujourd’hui tu es l’arbitre et tu es sur le terrain/Il y a d’autres dans les tribunes qui crient sur toi comme tu faisais auparavant/Alors ne dis pas qu’on veut te tuer	Today you’re the referee et you’re on the pitch. There are others in the stands yelling at you like you used to do to others. So don’t say that they’re trying to stress you out

The choice of soccer as a metaphor to describe the political situation may be interpreted as an homage to the popularity of the sport in Ivorian society, but also as a translation apparatus to render to complex political context accessible to an audience who may not fully understand it. While this song is mostly rendered in French and can hence be understood by any person with an average understanding of the language, it is important to take Nouchi (Ivory Coast slang) into consideration in our analysis. A particular adage resonates throughout the piece. It says “Il faut nous excuser mais en Zouglou on dit “Gbeh est mieux que Dra” (translated: You must excuse us but in Zouglou we say “Gbeh is better than Dra”). This saying remained cryptic to me for a long time until I solicited the help of a few Ivorian friends in my attempts to decipher its meaning. Despite the variety of answers I received, they all suggested an interpretation along the lines of “It is better to be told the hard truth now, than to find oneself in an embarrassing situation at a later date”. “Gbeh” could then be ostensibly refer to the “hard truth” while “Dra” refers to “embarrassing situations”. If words used in the context of Zouglou language do not share a one-to-one relationship with English, one should then exert caution in interpreting (linguistically, ethnographically or otherwise) lest the true meanings remain persistently elusive.

Even if this song appears to be directed towards Laurent Gbagbo, his name is never uttered. The song thus becomes liberated from the historical context of its occurrence. It is a song that may have originally been directed to one person, yet remains universally applicable to any African president who may have gained power through “calamitous circumstances”. The reminder below is testament to this claim:

Original	Translation
Tu te rappelles President, ce sont les marches qui t’ont amene au pouvoir Mr le president ne pertube pas les marches	Mr President, you must remember that you came to power through protests. Therefore Mr President, don’t suppress protests.

Today 12 years after its original release, the relevance of this cautionary song is all the more emphasized as the ex-president of neighboring Burkina Faso, Blaise Compaore, was recently deposed through popular uprising after a 27 year reign. The new acting head of state, Isaac Zida, may very well benefit from the same warnings articulated in this music. Whereas archival records often offer an immobile depiction of the state of society at a given time, the bifurcated aspect of this song as a contextual depiction of socio-political landscape of Ivory Coast circa 2002, and as an independent piece that can transcend spatial and temporal boundaries makes it especially compelling. It therefore needs not be situated in a particular geographical context but rather amongst a set of given social circumstances which serve to highlight its relevance.

Bibliography

Emielu, A. (2011). Some theoretical perspectives. Popular Music, 371–388.

Kohlhagen, D. (2005). FRIME, ESCROQUERIE ET COSMOPOLITISME: Le succès du « coupé-décalé » en Afrique et ailleurs. Politique africaine, 92-105.

Künzler, D., & Reuster-Jahn, U. (2012). “Mr. President”: Musical Open Letters as Political Commentary in Africa. Africa Today, 89-113.

Yode, P., & Siro, L. (2002). President. Abidjan.

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[1] Social reconstruction: The main features of this stage include: multiple modes of expressions which may or may not directly derive from the original core essence; attempts at fashioning out a new direction and a new core essence for the product; and attempts at locating the musical stream within a new socio-economic, artistic and cultural space. (Emielu, 2011)

Don Mills to Kennedy: Interactions between strangers on the TTC - An exercise in participant observation.

So I'm not sure if I mentioned this before, but this blog is about a student with an engineering background hoping to complete an anthropological project. What exactly is he thinking? Thankfully, I have great guidance from Prof. Andrew Gilbert! I currently sit in his Ethnography and Research Method class and he sometimes makes us do "weird" things. Like sit and observe people on the subway for example! Below is a report I produced as a result of one of those exercises. The technical term is participant-observation by the way. There, have some anthropological knowledge; you're welcome. In other news, the president of Burkina Faso has fled to Ivory Coast. Seriously hoping that this doesn't dig out what seems to be a buried hatchet. More on that later.  

I still had not clearly conceptualized my topic of exploration when I set out to ride the TTC subway system on Friday afternoon looking for “interactions between strangers”.  Questions swirled around in my mind as I nervously walked across the parking lot that connects Fairview Mall to the Don Mills subway station. What exactly were these “interactions” that I was supposed to observe? How would I differentiate between strangers and non-strangers? What if people thought I was creepy? What were the factors that would determine whether or not my experience was successful? As I reflected upon these questions, the first obstacle of my trip presented itself: I did not have any change. Fortunately the attendant, in an unexpected display of sympathy and cooperation, granted me a free ride. The gods of ethnography must have been on my side.

Still unsure of what I was supposed to study, I climbed down the stairs leading to the train platform and took a mental snapshot of my surroundings. Undoubtedly, the architectural features of the space quickly attracted my engineering mind; I instinctively noted the use of acoustic baffles in the ceilings to mitigate reverberation, the gigantic scale of the corridors, the ceramic tile mosaics used to garnish the walls (probably selected for their ease of maintenance) etc.

Moments later, the train came hissing in and some patrons debarked whilst others boarded. For the first time in almost 8 years, I rediscovered the remarkable order and seamlessness with which this process occurred. Contrasting this with experiences of aggressive pushing and shoving necessary to negotiate my way around places back home in Benin, I took note of this convention of cooperation that exists within the TTC ridership culture.

From Don Mills to Sheppard-Yonge station, I decided to focus my attention on a pair of friends (let’s call them Friend #1 and Friend #2) that occupied the seat across from me. Their body posture betrayed their familiarity as they practically leaned against each other for balance while tapping away at their phones. The polarity I observed in this interaction – perceptually distant yet physically intimate – motivated my questions for the remainder of my trip.

How do TTC riders create distance or intimacy in the bustling environment of the subway system? How is the concept of personal space renegotiated in a setting that constantly attempts to upset it?

With a more focused problem in mind, I hopped onto the stainless steel clad train that serves the Yonge-University-Spadina line in search of more clues. On board, I was quickly distracted by the clear unobstructed views of this train and how futuristic the interior felt. The absence of partitioning walls between cars transformed the train into a clanging worm-like machine with ends extending indefinitely in either direction. Across from me, I noticed another twosome (Friend #3 and Friend #4), this time actively engaged in conversation. Despite my relatively close range I was incapable of discerning any words. The racket created by the train and other ambient sources of noise were remarkably effective at masking speech and creating privacy in the process. Using this trick, Friend #3 and Friend #4 could insulate themselves from the rest of us by naturally adjusting the volume of their voices in order to remain unintelligible. 

In spite of its relative openness, the train created an environment that allowed patrons to create clusters of immediacy or separation as necessary. By means of simple codes, individuals could either create physical/social barriers to isolate themselves from the rest of the train (use of earphones, video games, empty “buffer” seats, sleep, body language etc.) or engage in behaviours that promoted social interaction that shatter those barriers in the process (discourse, physical proximity, eye contact etc.)

Even though my original itinerary was set to take to me all the way to Union Station then back, I impulsively detrained at Bloor-Yonge station. So far, every train I had boarded had not really been congested and I started recognizing that my seated position probably restricted my ability to collect sufficient data.

Just as I had hoped, this new train was densely packed and no longer had any available seats. I was now forced to stand along with the other patrons, conceding to them more of my space and stealing a little bit of theirs too. However effective this new vantage point was, it also presented some practical difficulties. Writing in a notebook while simultaneously holding onto the grab bars for balance required a great deal of dexterity that I hopelessly lacked. My phone thus became my new notepad. At this point it dawned on me that I was no longer simply observing people’s behaviours on this train but was now a full-fledged participant.

In fact, cell phone/tablet usage is a very prominent method of creating social barriers on the train. More than simply means of distraction, these gadgets offer an opportunity to their users to reclaim some of the space they forfeit to other patrons by way of immersion in a profoundly personal realm. The claustrophobia induced by the train environment can hence be mitigated since physical barriers cannot always be practically constructed.

The use of accessories such as earphones further enables individuals to “trade” additional physical space in exchange for a deeper immersion in their personal worlds. In these instances, unintentional physical contact which is usually followed with prompt apologies is more readily tolerable and is even sometimes ignored. 

My journey came to an end at Don Mills station, my original departure point. The empty station where I had started my voyage was now swarming with commuters eager to begin their weekend. I understood the importance of the vast corridors as I re-observed this space now stressed by all this busyness.

My experience riding the TTC subway certainly gave me some insight into the instruments used by TTC riders to construct or deconstruct social and physical barriers in the subway environment. However, it also did raise some questions that are beyond the scope of a 2-hour exercise or a 2-page essay. For example what is the significance of puzzles and other cognitive training games such as Bejeweled, Tetris or Blocks for TTC riders? How do unexpected distractions caused by actors such as toddlers captivate attention and contribute to the destruction of the barriers that have been constructed by individuals? Those are all questions that could require additional trips and further investigation.