quote:Originally posted by alTakruri: GASSIRE'S LUTE
Four times Wagadu stood there in all her splendor.
Four times Wagadu disappeared and was lost to human sight; once through vanity, once through falsehood, once through greed, and once through dissentation.
Four times Wagadu changed her name. First she was called Dierra, then Agada, then Ganna, then Silla.
Four times she turned her face. Once to the north, once to the west, once to the east and once to the south.
For Wagadu, whenever men have seen her, has always had four gates: one to the north, one to the west, one to the east and one to the south. Those are the directions whence the strength of Wagadu comes, the strength in which she endures no matter whether she be built of stone, wood and earth, or lives but as a shadow in the mind and longing of her children.
For really, Wagadu is not of stone, not of wood, not of earth. Wagadu is the strength which lives in the hearts of men and is, sometimes visible because eyes see her and ears hear the clash of swords and ring of shields, and is sometimes invisible because the indomitability of men has overtired her, so that she sleeps.
Sleep came to Wagadu for the first time through vanity, for the second time through falsehood, for the third time through greed and for the fourth time through dissension.
Should Wagadu ever be found for the fifth time, then she will live so forcefully in the minds of men that she will never be lost again, so forcefully that vanity, falsehood, greed and dissension will never be able to harm her.
Hoooh! Dierra, Agada, Ganna, Silla! Hoooh! Fasa!
who the hell is gassire?
Posts: 447 | From: Somewhere son... | Registered: Sep 2006
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posted
^ LOL Good question, though no need to be vulgar.
Hopefully, Takruri will shed more light about this after he finishes the poem.
Posts: 26237 | From: Atlanta, Georgia, USA | Registered: Feb 2005
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quote:Gassire's Lute is a West African epic by Alta Jablow that tells the story of a prince that becomes a bard.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gassire's_lute
A rousing tale of wars and heroes, Gassire’s Lute recounts the fall of the city-state Wagadu and tells how Gassire, warrior son of the ruling family, renounced his noble birth to become his people’s first bard. As an example of the relatively unknown oral literature of Africa, this poem is rich in historical and cultural interest. But it can be read and enjoyed simply as a beautiful and exciting story that shows clearly the universality of art and of human experience. The Waveland reprint includes an essay by the translator (“The Origin of Soninke Bardic Art”), which is meant to provide pertinent information for understanding and enjoying the poem. http://www.waveland.com/Titles/Jablow.htmPosts: 4021 | From: Bay Area, CA | Registered: Mar 2007
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posted
Gassire's Lute is not by Alta Jablow. Again, the translation I'm presenting is from Leo Frobenius. Nor is it based on anything. It is a part of the Soninke epic Dausi.
This is just restatement of the introductory post I made before submitting the initial installments. Was it unclear or just no one bothered to read it? What am I doing wrong that the below didn't register?
quote:Originally posted by alTakruri: Leo Fobenius did us the service of presenting the voice of the Soninke from their grand epic Dausi parts of which no doubt retain accurate history from as far back as the Akjinjeir stage of the Dhar Tichitt/Tagant civilization circa 450 BCE.
Could the Fasa of the following tale (Gassire's Lute) be a geo-ethnonym recalling the Fezzan whence the Libyco-Berbers/Garamantes before their assumption of trade and politics with the civilization and cultures slightly north of and directly between the Niger and the Senegal?
Posts: 8014 | From: the Tekrur in the Western Sahel | Registered: Feb 2006
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Nganamba did not die. A jackal gnawed at Gassire's heart.
Daily Gassire asked his heart: "When will Nganamba die? When will Gassire be king?"
Every day Gassire watched for the death of his father as a lover watches for the evening star to rise.
By day, when Gassire fought as a hero against the Burdama and drove the false Boroma before him with a leather girth, he thought only of the fighting, of his sword, of his shield, of his horse.
By night, when he rode with the evening into the city and sat in the circle of men and his sons, Gassire heard how the heroes praised his deeds. But his heart was not in the talking; his heart listened for the strains of Nganamba's breathing; his heart was full of misery and longing.
Gassire's heart was full of longing for the shield of his father, the shield, which he could carry only when his father was dead, and also for the sword which he might draw only when he was king. Day by day Gassire's rage and longing grew. Sleep passed him by.
Gassire lay, and a jackal gnawed at his heart. Gassire felt the misery climbing into his throat. One night Gassire sprang out of bed, left the house and went to an old wise man, a man who knew more than other people.
He entered the wise man's house and asked: "Kiekorro! When will my father, Nganamba, die and leave me his sword and shield?"
The old man said: "Ah, Gassire, Nganamba will die; but he will not leave you his sword and shield!
You will carry a lute. Shield and sword shall others inherit. But your lute shall cause the loss of Wagadu!
Ah, Gassire!"
Gassire said: "Kiekorro, you lie!
I see that you are not wise. How can Wagadu be lost when her heroes triumph daily?
Kiekorro, you are a fool!"
The old wise man said: "Ah, Gassire, you cannot believe me.
But your path will lead you to the partridges in the fields and you will understand what they say and that will be your way and the way of Wagadu."
Hoooh! Dierra. Agada, Ganna, Silla! Hoooh! Fasa!
Posts: 8014 | From: the Tekrur in the Western Sahel | Registered: Feb 2006
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The next morning Gaasire went with the heroes again to do battle against the Burdama. Gassire was angry.
Gassire called to the heroes "Stay here behind. Today I will battle with the Burdama alone."
The heroes stayed behind and Gassire went on alone to do battle with the Burdama. Gassire hurled his spear. Gassire charged the Burdama. Gassire swung his sword. He struck home to the right, he struck home to the left. Gassire's sword was as a sickle in the wheat.
The Burdama were afraid. Shocked, they cried:
"That is no Fasa, that is no hero, that is a Damo (a being unknown to the singer himself)."
The Burdama turned their horses. The Burdama threw away their spears, each man his two spears, and fled. Gassire called the knights.
Gassire said "Gather the spears."
The knights gathered the spears.
The knights sang: "The Fasa are heroes.
Gassire has always been the Fasa's greatest hero.
Gassire has always done great deeds.
But today Gassire was greater than Gassire!"
Gassire rode into the city and the heroes rode behind him.
The heroes sang, "Never before has Wagadu won so many spears as today."
Gassire let the women bathe him. The men gathered. But Gassire did not seat himself in their circle. Gassire went into the Belds. Gassire heard the partridges. Gassire went close to them.
posted
It is of upmost importance that the oratures or oral traditions of many Africans, such as the West African one presented here, be written down for safe-keeping since Lord knows that such traditions or customs are threatened and I fear that these interesting and beatiful stories could from times immemorial could be lost forever.
I remember reading some excerpts from a West African author (whose name I forgot) who recorded an epic he learned from the local griots, an epic quite similar in scale to 'Lord of the Rings'. What's funny is that there are many similar stories but not many people outside of their localities know about it.
Posts: 26237 | From: Atlanta, Georgia, USA | Registered: Feb 2005
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Sorry about that.. I have no idea what Alta Jablow's epic is about then. Probably a retelling or elaborative rendition/exaggeration of the original..
Posts: 4021 | From: Bay Area, CA | Registered: Mar 2007
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I only wish I could present the version from Frobenius' Atlantis instead of African Genesis.
quote:Originally posted by Djehuti: It is of upmost importance that the oratures or oral traditions of many Africans, such as the West African one presented here, be written down for safe-keeping since Lord knows that such traditions or customs are threatened and I fear that these interesting and beatiful stories could from times immemorial could be lost forever.
I remember reading some excerpts from a West African author (whose name I forgot) who recorded an epic he learned from the local griots, an epic quite similar in scale to 'Lord of the Rings'. What's funny is that there are many similar stories but not many people outside of their localities know about it.
Posts: 8014 | From: the Tekrur in the Western Sahel | Registered: Feb 2006
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posted
It's a translation with commentary. Jablow has nothing original to do with Gassire's Lute.
Gassire's Lute is one of the oldest kernals of the Dausi. A kernal which though infused/corrupted over the ages harks back to the remmebrance when Garamante from Fezzan evidently gained leadership over their apparent Soninke kinsmen, seeing that that the Mande Soninke consider the Fasa to be one and the same with themselves supporting the scholarship which over the past century posits the Garamante to be Mande (though I think the ntae part of Garamante may be a Greek or Latin language way to make a plural out of Garama (Djerma).
quote: The word Garamantes is the Greek plural of Garamas or Garama, which in Africa became Jarama or Jarma.The present Jarma ( also spelled Dierma or Dzarma ) now live by the Niger River in Niger and in the neighboring states of Benin and Burkina Faso, though previously they lived upriver in Mali.
Jan Knappert
quote: Graves (1980) and Leo Frobenius linked the Garamante to the ancient empire of Ghana (c.300 BC to A.D. 1100). Graves (1980) claims that the term Garamante is the Greek plural for Garama or Garamas. He said that the present Jarama or Jarma are the descendants of the Garamante; and that the Jarama live near the Niger river.
No personal reflections on Dr. Winters please. Either provide confirmation or disconfirmation of his sources' linguistics if one can. He is basing himself on Graves (for present location) and Frobenius (for the linguistics) and if one hasn't analyzed either of their hypotheses then one should remain silent and remove onesself from the foolishness of speaking outside of a recognized frame of reference.
My criticism is that the Djerma are Sonhrai not Soninke and that the Gir of the Greco-Latin authors is not the Niger but some wadi or chott in Algeria. Pliny's confusion of Gir for Nigir has been known since at least 1911 not to mention that the river we call Niger is afaik named Joliba by those living along it.
quote:Originally posted by Sundiata: Sorry about that.. I have no idea what Alta Jablow's epic is about then. Probably a retelling or elaborative rendition/exaggeration of the original..
Posts: 8014 | From: the Tekrur in the Western Sahel | Registered: Feb 2006
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Gassire said: "Kiekorro! I was in the fields. I understood the partridges. The partridge boasted that the song of its deeds would live longer than Wagadu.
Gassire said: "My sons. today we go to battle. But the strokes of our swords shall echo no longer in the Sahel alone, but shall retain their ring for the ages.
You and I, my sons, will that we live on and endure before all other heroes in the Dausi.
My oldest son, today we two, thou and I, will be the first in battle!"
Gassire and his eldest son went into the battle ahead of the heroes.
Gassire had thrown the lute over his shoulder. The Burdama came closer. Gassire and his eldest son charged. Gassire and his eldest son, fought as the first. Gassire and his eldest son left the other heroes far behind them. Gassire fought not like a human being, but rather like a Damo. His eldest son fought not like a human being, but like a Damo.
Gassire came into a tussle with eight Burdama. The eight Burdama pressed him hard. His son came to help him and struck four of them down. But one of the Burdama thrust a spear through his heart. Gassire's eldest son fell dead from his horse. Gassire was angry. And shouted. The Burdama fled. Gassire dismounted and took the body of his eldest son upon his back. Then he mounted and rode slowly back to the other heroes.
The eldest son's heart's blood dropped on the lute, which was also hanging on Gassire's back. And so Gassire, at the head of his heroes, rode into Dierra.
Hoooh! Dierra, Agada, Ganna, Silla! Hoooh! Fasa!
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Gassire's eldest son was buried. Dierra mourned. The urn in which the body crouched was red with blood. That night Gassire took his lute and struck against the wood. The lute did not sing. Gassire was angry. He called his sons.
Gassire said to his sons, "Tomorrow we ride against the Burdama."
For seven days Gassire rode with the heroes to battle. Every day one of his sons accompanied him to be the first in the fighting. And on everyone of these days Gassire earned the body of one of his sons, over his shoulder and over the lute back into the city. And thus on every evening, the blood of one of his sons dripped onto the lute. After the seven days of fighting there was a great mourning in Dierra. All the heroes and all the women wore red and white clothes. The blood of the Boroma, apparently in sacrifice, flowed everywhere. All the women wailed. All the men were angry.
Before the eighth day of the fighting all the heroes and the men of Dierra gathered and spoke to Gassire:
"Gassire, this shall have an end! We are willing to fight when it is necessary. But you in your rage, go on fighting without sense or limit.
Now go forth from Dierra! A few will join you and accompany you. Take your Boroma and your cattle.
The rest of us incline more to life than fame. And while we do not wish to die fameless we have no wish to die for fame alone."
The old wise man said: "Ah, Gassire! Thus will Wagadu be lost today for the first time."
Hoooh! Dierra, Agada, Ganna, Sillat Hoooh! Fasa!
Posts: 8014 | From: the Tekrur in the Western Sahel | Registered: Feb 2006
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Gassire and his last, his youngest, son, his wives, his friends and his Buroma rode out into the desert. They rode through the Sahel. Many heroes rode with Gassire through the gates of the city. Many turned. A few accompanied Gassire and his youngest son into the Sahara.
They rode far: day and night. They came into the wilderness and in the loneliness they rested. All the heroes and all the women and all the Boroma slept. Gassire's youngest son slept.
Gassire was restive. He sat by the fire. He sat there long. Presently he slept. Suddenly he jumped up. Gassire listened. Close beside him Gassire heard a voice. It rang as though it came from himself. Gassire began to tremble. He heard the lute singing. The lute sang the Dausi.
When the lute had sung the Dausi for the first time King Nganamba died in the city Dierra; when the lute had sung the Dausi for the first time, Gassire's rage melted; Gassire wept. When the lute had sung the Dausi for the first time, Wagadu disappeared-for the first time.
Hoooh! Dierra, Agada, Ganna, Silla! Hoooh! Fasa!
[to be concluded]
Posts: 8014 | From: the Tekrur in the Western Sahel | Registered: Feb 2006
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Four times Wagadu stood there in all her splendor.
Four times Wagadu disappeared and was lost to human sight: once through vanity, once through falsehood, once through greed and once through dissension.
Four times Wagadu changed her name. First she was called Dierra, then Agada, then Ganna, then Silla.
Four times she turned her face. Once to the north, once to the west, once to the east and once to the south.
For Wagadu, whenever men have seen her, has always had four gates: one to the north, one to the west, one to the east and one to the south. Those are the directions whence the strength of Wagadu comes, the strength in which she endures no matter whether she be built of stone, wood or earth, or lives but as a shadow in the mind and longing of her children.
For, really, Wagadu is not of stone, not of wood, not of earth. Wagadu is the strength which lives in the hearts of men and is sometimes visible because eyes see her and ears hear the clash of swords and ring of shields, and is sometimes invisible because the indomitability of men has overtired her, so that she sleeps.
Sleep came to Wagadu for the first time through vanity, for the second time through falsehood, for the third time through greed and for the fourth time through dissension.
Should Wagadu ever be found for the fifth time, then she will live so forcefully in the minds of men that she will never be lost again, so forcefully that vanity, falsehood, greed and dissension will never be able to harm her.
Hoooh! Dierra, Agada, Ganna, Silla! Hoooh! Fasa!
Every time that the guilt of man caused Wagadu to disappear she won a new beauty which made the splendor of her next appearance still more glorious.
Vanity brought the song of the bards which all peoples imitate and value today.
Falsehood brought a rain of gold and pearls.
Greed brought writing as the Burdama still practice it today and which in Wagadu was the business of the women.
Dissension will enable the fifth Wagadu to be as enduring as the rain of the south and as the rocks of the Sahara, for every man will then have a Wagadu in his heart and every woman a Wagadu in her womb.
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