Fantasy and Symbol: Studies in Anthropological Interpretation. Essays in honour of George Devereux

Fantasy and Symbol

STUDIES IN

~'JTHROPOLOOY

Under the Consulting Editorship of E. A. Hammel, UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, BERKELEY

Andrei Simié, THE PEASANT URBANITES: A Study of Rural-Urban Mobility in Serbia John U. Ogbu, THE NEXT GENERATION: An Ethnography of Education iD an Urban Neighborhood Bennett Dyke and lean R-'alters MacCiuer (Eds.), C0~1PUTER SIMULATION IN HUM.t\N POPULA TION STUDIES Robhins Burling, THE PASSAGE OF POWER: Studies in Political Succession Piotr Szto1npka, SYSTEM ANO FUNCTION: Toward a Theory of Society JVilliam G. Lock)i,•ood, EUROPEAN MOSLE~IS: Economy and Ethnicity in Westem Bosnia Günter Golde, CATHOLICS Al'D PROTESTANTS: Agricultura! Modernization in Tv.'o German \'illages Peggy Reeves Sanday (Ed.), ANTHROPOLOGY i\ND THE PUBLIC INTEREST: Fieldwork and Theory CarolA. Smith (Ed.), RE.GIONAL ANALYSIS, \'olumc 1: Economic Systems, and Volume 11: Social Systems Raymond D. Fogelson and Richard .~1 • Adams (Eds.), THE ANTHROPOLOGY OF POWER: Ethnographic Studies from Asia, Oceania, and tbe New World Frank Henderson Stetvart, FUNDA~fENTALS OF AGE-GROUP SYSTEMS Larissa Adler Lo1nnitz, NETWORKS AND MARGINALITY: Life in a Mexican Shantytown Benjamin S. Orlove, ALPACAS, SHEE.P, AND MEN: The Wool Export Economy and Regional Society in Southern Peru Harriet Ngubane, BODY Al'D MIND IN ZGLU MEDICINE: An Ethnography of Health and Disease in Nyus,-..·a-Zulu Thought and Practice George M. Foster, Thayer Scudder, Elizabeth Colson, and Robert Van Kemper (Eds.), LOKG-TER~l FIE.LD RESEARCH IN SOCIAL ANTHROPOLOGY R. H. Hook (Ed.), FANTASY AND SYMBOL: Studies in Anthropological Interpretation

Essays in honour of George DeL•ereux

G o g Devereux

Fantasy and Syrnbol Studies in Anthropological Interpretation

edited b_y

R. H. HOOK Department of Anthropolog_y Rtsearch School of Pac~~-c Studits AuJtraiian ){ational L:'niversi(v Canberra AuJtralia

1979

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L'S edition published by Academic Press lnc. 111 Fifth Avenue, "Sew York, Xew "{ork 10003 Editorial matter cop}Tight e 1979 by PRESS IN C. {LONDON) L TD.

ICADE~1IC

Introduct ion. Mtantasy and Symbol: A PsychoanaJytic Point ofView copyright C 1979 by R. 11. Hook George Devereux: A Portrait copyright C 1979 by Ariane DeJu¿; .Fantasy and Symbol as Dimensions of Reality copyright C 1979 by George De\iercux Pythagoras in Amerit:a cop)Tight e 1979 by Claude Lévi-Strauss The lnfluence of f\-1ethods of Observation on Theory, with Particular Reference to the \\'ork of (;eorge [)cvereux and .tvlargaret Lowenfeld copyright C 1979 by Esta te of I\largaret ~:lead Species-specific Biology, ~lagic, and Religion copyright C. 1979 by \Veston La Barre Coping with Destiny, Among the Tallensi copyrightC 1979 by ~-teyer Fortes Prevented Successions: A (::Ommentary u pon a Kuranko Narrati\'e copyright e 1()79 by ~1ichael Jackson Reflections on a Cut Fin.~er: Taboo in the Lmeda Conccption of the Self copyright C 1979 b)' Alfred Gell Tambu: The Shell-~1oncy of the Tolai copyright C 1979 by A. L. Epstein Stone as a Symbol in Apache Folklore copyright C 1979 by L. Bryce Boyer Severed lleads that Germinate copyright ·C 197 9 by l)erek .Freeman Queen of ~ight, ~1other-Right, and Secret ~·tale Cults copyright•C 1979 by L. R. Hiatt

A/l Rights Reser¿,·ed No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, by photostat, microfilm or any other means, "'~thout V\'ritten permission from the publishers

Bntúh Library C.'ataloguing in Puhiu;alÚJn Data Fantasy and Symbol.- (Studies in anthropology ). l. Symbolism- .1\ddresses, essays, lectures 2. Symbolism ( Psychology)- ~~ddresses, essays, lectures l. Devereux, George 11. Hook, R H III. Psychoanalysis and the lnterpretation of Symbolic Behavior (Ca~(trmcr.), t•anhrrra. 197.'j 301.2'1

1\'. Series GN452.5

78-67899

ISBX 0-12-355480-2

Typeset in Great Britain by Kelmscott Press Ltd., London EC4 Printed in Great Britain by \'Vhitstable Litho Ltd., \l'lhitstable, Kent

Contributors

....

L. BR\''CE BO\:'ER is a practising psychoanalyst and

~~lemb-er

of the

American Psychoanalytic Association. He is Associate l)irector~ Psychiatric Residency Training, Herrick ~tfemorial Hospital~ Berkeley, California, US1\. ARIANE DELUZ is Chargé de Recherches, Centre Nationale de la Recherche Scientifique, Laboratoire d '.~nthropologie Socia le~ Paris, France. A. L. EPSTEII\ is Professor of Social i\nthropology, Lrniversity of Sussex, and "'·as formerly Professor of i\nthropology in the Research School of Pacific Studies, i\ustralian National LJniversity, Canberra, r\ustralia. ~1EYER FORprES is Emeritus Professor of Social 1\nthropology, Kings College, L·niversity of Cambridge, England. DEREK FREE~v1AI\ is Professor of Anthropology in the Rescarch School of Pacific Studies" 1\ustralian I\ational Universitv, Canberra, Australia. r\L:FRED GELL is Senior Lecturer, Departmcnt of Prehistory and Anthropology, Faculty of Arts, Australian National Lfniver5ity~ Canberra, .~ustralia. L. R. Hl.~ TI is Reader in thc Department of l\nthrupology, LJnivcrsity of Sydney ~ Sydney, Australia. R. H. HOOK is a practising psychoanalyst and ~~ssociate i\t1ember of the l\ustralian Psychoanalytical Society. He is a \' isiting J•'ellow in ,

1

\'11

VIII

CONTRIBlJTORS

the Research School of Pacific Studies, l\ustralian _:\lational Cniversity, Canberra, .l\ustralia. ~fiCH.~EL JACKSO~ is Senior Lecturer in the Department of Social ~~nthropology and f\..1aori Studies, ~fassey University, Palmerston 1\orth, New Zealand. \t\1ESTOI\ LA Bl\RRE is James B. Duke Professor of .~nthropology Emiritus at Duke University, Durham, North Carolina, CSt\. CLi\LfDE LÉv'l-STRALfSS is Professor of .~nthropology at the College de France, Paris, France. ~lARG~~RET ~lEAD \vas, until her death in l\ovember 1978, Curator Emeritus of Ethnology, 1\merican ~~1 useum of I'iatural History., Ne\'\' \"ork, LTSA.

Preface

This collection of papers in honour of George Devereux had its origin in a symposium on . 'Psychoanalysis and the lnterpretation of Symbolic Beha\·iour'~ of the i\nthropology Section at the 46th Congress of the Australian and ~ew Zealand Association for the Advancement of Science (ANZ"~AS) held in Canberra in 197 5. George Devereux~ then \'isiting Fello~· in the Department of i\nthropology in the Research School of Pacific Studies at the Australian National University, \·vas the principal speaker at this symposium, his paper (lh·hich appears in this volume) being entitled aFantasy and Symbol as Dimensions of Reality". It was subsequently proposed that the papers contributed to this very stimulating symposium be published in a volume that would commemorate the varied and distinguished career, as anthropologist and psychoanalyst, of Professor George Devereux. Severa! of his colleagues and students were also invited to contri bu te. In the hands of these contributors the book has gro"'·n into its present form. In one "'·ay or another, all contributors deal with symbolic behaviour and its i.nterpretation and, as the reader \ovill quickly appreciate, many of the papers ha ve a psychoanalytic orientation, the psychoanalytic interpretation of symbolic behaviour and the complementarity of psychological and sociological accounts of cultural phenomena being topics of prime interest to George Devereux. The preparation of this volume was carried out in the Department lX

PREF.A.CE

X

of Anthropology in the Research School of Pacific Studies of the 1\ustralian National LTniversity, in which the editor is a \.lisiting ~~~ello\v. lt could never ha\·e been accomplished without the very ready assistance, advice and encouragement of Derek Freeman, Professor of i\nthropology in this Department, ~vho also arranged for the inclusion of the symposium on Psychoanalysis and the lnterpretation of Symbolic Behaviour ''in the ANZi\.AS programme of 1975. The President of the Anthropology Section at the 46th AI\ZAAS Congress was Professor ~1eyer Fortes and his support of the decision to publish the papers presented and his continuing interest and assis_tance in the work of preparation of the volume is gratefully ackno\\·ledged. 1 am particularly indebted to Dr Ariane Deluz for her sketch of (;eorge Devercux ~s career and also for the very considerable assistance given in dealing \\'ith matters requiring attention in Paris. !v1iss Judith vv·ilson, Research Assistant in the Department of 1\nthropology, has rendered invaluable assistance in proof-readin,g the papers and in preparing them for publication; her extensive experience enabled her to give advice in such matters as classical and other references and on detailed points of translation or interpretation. ¡\ special acknowledgement is necessary of Professor \Veston La Barre 's kindness and generosity in making available the photograph of c;eorge J)evereux ~·hich appears as a frontispiece, presenting him in a passionately intellectual, inquiring mood. ~fany other people ha\le offered very valuable assistance and advice and, although it ís not possible to name them indívidually, they have my sincere appreciation and thanks. H

December 1978.

R.ll. HOOK

Contents

..

Contributors

VIl

Preface

IX

Introduction

1

R.H.HOOK

George Devereux:

.~

Portrait

1l

ARIANE DELLTZ

Fantasy and Symbol as Dimensions of Reality t<J

GEORG E DE"'EREUX

Pythagoras in America

33

CL-\UDE LÉ\'I-STR1\USS

The lnfluence of ~1ethods of Observation on l,heorv, ""·ith Particular Reference to the '"' ork of Georg e Devereux and Margaret Lo"venfeld MARGARET f\1EAD

Species-specific Biolog}r, rvlagic, and Religion \VESl"O!\ L,\ B,\RRE

Coping with Destiny, among the Tallensi ME\"ER FOR.rES

43

55 65

Prevented Successions: A Commentary u pon a Kuranko Narra ti ve 95

f\.11CHAELJACKSON XI

CONTENTS

XII

Reftections on a Cut Finger: Taboo Conception of the Self

In

the Cmeda 133

ALFRED GELL

Tambu: The

.~.L. EPSTEIN

Shell-~1oney

ofthe Tolai 149

Stone as a Symbol in Apache Folklore L. BR ~fCE 80\:PER

207

Severed Heads that Germina te 233

DEREK FREE!\,1tlli

Queen of Night, L. R.

~fother-Right,

and Secret

~/la le

Cults

111.~ Tl'

Phantasy and Symbol: l\ Psychoanalytic Point of \' ie"'·

247

R.H.HOOK

26 7

Subjecl lndex

293

Introduction R. H. Hook

For if symbolic beha\'ior is even half as important as Freud, for example, suggested, symbolic anthropolo~y is the custodian of the richest of allthe mines v-·hich are \\'orked by the science of man. :\-1ELFORD E St>Uh>

Ainsi, de ses multiples expériences, en ethnopsychiatrie, en psychanalyse, dans le domaine de 1'histoire grecque, et en ethno!ogie, De\'ereux tire une série de regles méthodologiques comme une philosophie générale des sciences de 1'homme ... un homme lucirle a u milieu des pi~ges- combatif, voire agressif, contre ceux qui se laissent prendre a ces pieges, mais sachant tirer, des obstacles recontrés, la possibilité d 'une science de 1'homme authentiquemcnt objecth'e. ROGER HA.S I'II)J::.

THE LINKING OF svmbolic behaviour ~·ith the name of Freud is". of ~

course, hardly an accident: no one has done more for the understanding of symbolism than has the father of psychoanalysis. '"fhe capacity for symbol formation and symbolic thinking, and related phantasy, 1 perhaps the oldest specifically human phenomena, re .. sisted all attempts to penetrate its real significance and meaning prior to Freud 's svstematic and scientific studv. of svmbolisrn in \-vhat is~ " perhaps, his majar single theoretical achievement~ 1he lnterprelation oJr Dreams, which appeared in 1899, but not in English until 1913~ when ~

!he use of two difi'erent spelhngs of' phantasy/fantas~, which at f1rst si~ht rnay appear c:tp:·iCJous, is discussed on page 271 of this volurne in m y paper: "Phan~as)· and Syrr.bul'· 1

2

R.lt. HOOK

it was translated by A. i\. Brill (Strachey, 1953, pp. xi-xii). Charles Rycroft (1977) points out that Freud did not at first attach m u eh importance to symbolism in The lnterpretatiun o.f Drean~s and that it \\·as only in the fourth edition ( 1914) that it "vas given separa te treatment and a section to itself \vhen material from the 1909 and 1911 editions, included under a different heading C'Typical Dreams ''), \vas taken, a long \\'Íth further new material, to form the added section ("'Representation by Symbols in Dreams - Sorne Further Typical Dreams '', Section (E) of Chapter \il) (Strachey, 1953, p. 350, footnote). But this observation does not detract from the pioneering importance of Freud ~s work on symbolism. lt has been taken as an excess that psychoanalysts sometimes use words like ~~true" and "real~~ in discussion, for example~ of such things as symbols and meanings, but the offence may be diminished or seen to arise from insufficient care in the choice of \vords, or the limitation uf language when it is recognized that what is intended is not that other symbols are ~'false'~ or other meanings ~i.unrear~, but that psychoanalysts \\'ish to indicate a specially important role for the unconscious meaning or prinzar)' process symbol - but obviously the same difficulty arises "·ith all such words, including ~"primary "~ "'primal'' and "fundamental"; even •'primitive', and the notions associated with it have gone through sorne surprising vagaries, as is indicated in Rycroft 's discussion of Ernest Jones ~s use of the \\'ord in su eh expressions as ''primitive civilizations '' and "'the primitive mind" (Rycroft, 1977, p. 134 ). Discussion of Jones 's concept of ~•true" symbols - as distinct from "~symbolism in the \\'Ídest sen se"- makes up a lar,ge part of Rycroft 's case against the traditional psychoanalytic theory of symbolism, \\'hich he claims "has created ""·ell-nigh insuperable barriers bet\veen itself and other humane disciplines~' (Rycroft, 1977, p. 139). \\'hilst agreeing "'·ith the thrust of Rycroft~s argument against too restrictive a definition of symbolism, onc might still "'·onder \\'hether such barriers as do exist might not rest on other foundations, too numerous and complex to revie\\' here, but of "'·hich at least one is resistance to the psychoanalytic extension of thc concept "neurotic "- and indeed, also its counterpart ~~psychotic ~'- to more universal incidence, at least in regard to defence mechanisms universally used, and of clinical significance only in certain circumstances, "'·hen the use of such mechanisms leads to overt illness or dysfunction.

IN'fRODCCTION

3

But is not such a claim to special relevance for the psychological approach to the understanding of symbols and phantasy extravagant, \\then even a cursory glance at Sir Raymond f~irth ~s extensive study of S'lmbols (Firth, 197 3) would sho\\' that the psychological is but one of ~any approaches? ~loreover, the social anthropologist could complain that such an emphasis on psychoanalysis seems to ignore the sociological si de of the equation. It is not necessary here to revie\\' the relationships bet~·een anthropology and psychology, 1 but it might approriately be observed that the debate has frequently been bedevilled by the assumption, often no more than implicit, that psychological and sociological explanations each exhaust the material to be explained and are, moreover, mutually exclusive, so that a psychological explanation makes a sociological explanation irrelevant, and vice versa. l"he logic of the relationship between sociological explanation and psychological explanation has been one of George Devereux 's majar theoretical intercsts and is discussed in Ethnops.:vchanalyse (,omplémentariste (1972). His -conclusions, \\'hich derive largely from the application of the physical principie of complementarity to the problems of the human sciences, as Ariane Deluz indicates (this volume, p. 14), 2 were worked out over an extended period of time. In a review of Ethnopsychana(yse C'omplémentariste, at that time Uevereux 's la test book, Alain Besanc;on ( 197 3) summarized Devereux 's conclusions in the form of thirteen propositions or theorems. For convenient reference they are listed here (my translation): l. It is both possible and necessary to explain in different vvays behaviour already accounted for ~·ithin another frame of reference. 2. It is the possibility of explaining fully a given human phenomenon in at least t\VO (complementary) ways which demonstrates, on the one hand, that the phenomenon in question is at once both real and explicable and, on the other, that each of these two explanations is complete (and therefore valid) within its own frame of reference. 3. T\\·o types of inquiry, leading to two complementary explanations, may not be carried out, nor even thought, simultaneously. · 1t ha~ been done by others nlore competent. Refercncc might be made 10 two rei.modal personality ''in \vhich he analyses the diverse motivations of young Hungarians during the uprising of 1956 (Devereux, 1961 b ). At the end of that paper (translated into French and revised, 1972) he reminds the reader that uon the level of concrete research and explanation, one must undertake a double - but never simultaneous - analysis of the facts. rrhis must be done in a manner ~·hich highlights \Vell the complmzentari(y_, strictu ser2su, of the t\vo explanations, one of \vhich is psychologistic and the other sociologistic '' (Devereux, 1972, p. 129: author 's translation). In 1956-57 Devereux \Vas a member of a team studying the reactions of refugees after the failure of the Hungarian revolution. l heard ~1argaret ~fead, in referring to his work on that occasion, praise Devereux 's capacity to get inside the skin of his informant~ \vhilst he himself expressed admiration for her capacity to compel him~ by unexpected and penetrating questions, to express in \vords the esscntial features of the Hungarian personality- a good example of complcmentarity. ~ot only was George Devereux busy writing from 1932 on\vards, but from 1946 to 1959 he carried out important clinical \\'ork in ~

~,

~,...;

16

various institutions before engaging in the priva te practice of psychuanalysis in Ne\v \' ork from 1959 to 1963, \\'hen he \ovas appointed prufessor at the Eco le des Hautes Etudes en Sciences Sociales ( until 197 5 called Ecole Pratique des l-lautes Etudes, v'le Section) in Paris. ~l'hough remaining aloof from any faction, J)evereux felt more at home in the intellectual climate of Europe than in the United States. His affinity \ovith the structuralism of Lévi-Strauss may be seen in an article published in 1965 (Devereux, 1965b) in vvhich he proposed a psychological theory of kinship, complementary to the sociological theses of Claude Lévi-Strauss concerning the exchange of \vomen. t\ccording tu Devereux, "this exchange permits the indirect manifestation of homosexual impulses" ( 1965b, p. 243: author's translation) and ~..the institution of marriage has as its goal not the socially advantageous resolving of heterosexual problems, but the re¡lelling of the threatening spectre of homosexuality \vhich is a product of the oedipus complex~' (196Sb, p. 245: author's translation). One may think, as did ~~targaret f\,1ead, that this represents a male point of view·, but it is also the only psychological theury uf kinship \vhich offers a challenge. 1 \\'Ould be inclined to say that if it is true that men exchange \\'omen it is also true that \o\'Omen exchange men and that it is by understanding under what conditions these w·ays of looking at the question can be articulated \vith each other that their effects can be best interpreted. Since 1963 George Devereux has carved out for himself a niche in Hellenic studies, regarding Greek antiquity as the site of his last ethnographic field'h·ork. In Dreams in Greek Traged__y ( 1976) he analyses the dreams contained in those Greek tragedies w·hich have survived in a complete form~ the rest of the tragedy in which the dream occurs being treated for purposes of interpretation as ''free associations '' to the dream. These dreams are then also correlated with comparable passages in other Greek texts, with Greek culture as a whole, and with comparable clinical material and ethno.graphic data. This latest avatar of George Devereux - as a Greek scholar - reminds us of his boldness and inventiveness. George Devereux is one of those rare men of science of \o\'hom it may be said, a He is a scholar ", but at the same time he is most sensitive to human w·armth and friendship, as is \\'ell attested by the ties he has established w·ith the students \\'ho attend his seminars in Paris. But, above all, "he has made the spirit of psychoanalysis so thoroughly his

GE()RGE DE\'EREUX: .-\ POR'I'RAI'r

17

ov.'n that most of his propositions - even~ indeed chieHy, the most scientific - in fact operate as interpretations. 1\s such, they may l)e obliterated for a time by resistances, but once these are ovcrcomc they reorganize and clarify our understanding'~ (Besanc;on~ 1971, p. 25: author ~s translation).

References BESAN\X)N, ..~Al!\ ( 1971 ). Lfn méconnu: Devereux. /.a Q:.un::.auu· J.,iuéra~·rt,

16-31 January, 25-26. DEVERELX, GELlRC;E ( 1951 ). Realit)' ar2d Dreanz: l~~_y(hot}urajJ}' ·~la Plains India,;.

International L:niversitics Prcss, 1\c\'\' \" ork. UEVERELX, GEORGE (1955). A Stud_y l~lAbortion Ul l'rirrútz'¡•e Sorieúe.i: A 7_1,·.f.'rJlogú:al~ Distribuliorlal, arul D)·ruJTlllr Anal_yJH 'J./ lht Prn/en/ÚHi ·~~,- lhrlh in lOO l~t'­ zndustrial Socielit~j·. J ulian Press~ Ne\v \'" ork. f)F.VERELX, GEORG E ( 1961 a). J\4ohaoe EthnofJJ~yt-·hiatry and Srtzcide: 'Fht' 1\vchiatric hruJZL1erlge and Jhe P\~'Yt:hic Di.rlurbancrj l~l ar. lndian 1·nbe (Hureau of t\merican Ethnology Bulletin 1\o. 17 S). Government Printing ()fticc, \\'ashington, D.C. DEVERELX, GE(lR(iE (1961 b). 1·wo types of modal personality n1odels. In Studytng Personall(v C'ross-C'ultural(y (Ed. Bert Ka plan), pp. 227-241. }{ow, Petcrson and Company, Evanston, Illinois. (1\lso in f..'thntJP~)'thana!J'Se c·omplétnenlarúte ( 1972 ), pp. 111-130. Flammarion, Paris.) DEVERELX, (iEORGE (1965a). ·rhc voiccs of children: psychocultural obstacles to therapeutic communication. A"urúarl Jm~.rnal of Ps_)'(hot}ura,IJ)·, 19, 4-19. (. ~lso in ~·ssats d'JithtuJps_ychiatrie (;énérale (1970), pp. 124-142. Gallimard, París.) I)EVERELX, GEjychological AnlhroPolo?J (Ed. George D. Spindler). University of California Press, Berkeley, Cahfornia

!\1 -

~:

.

MARGARET ~nd, BA ~ESON, ?R~GORY (1942). Halinese Characler: A ographzc .4nalyszs. (Spec1al Pubhcat1ons of The Ne"v 't' ork Academy of

54

!\.1ARGi\RET !\1E!\[)

Sciences, vol. 2) (reissued 1962). 'l'he Ne\v \'ork .'\cadcmy of Scien(:c.. :s,, 1\ev~· \' ork. tv1EAD, ~1ARrn1ation is left out. The liturgics of script.ural religions follo\\' the same lines for they~ too. are addrcssed to occult powers and agencies \·vhose response to prayer cannot be directly kno\vn. So the ~-~red" cockerel- red here standing for any mixtures uf brO\\'n or orange or sirrlilarly coloured plun1agc - is offered not as a sacrifice to persuade the ancestors out as a vehicle of appeal to test their re.sponsivencss. ·rhe oilcring of a red cockerel is standard procedure in this cpisode ofthe ritual though it \ovas rcpresented as having been commanded by diviners. Tallcnsi sacrificial anin1als fati into three large colour clu.sters: the ""·hite (\·vhich includes all light colours), the red (\·vhich covers another broad range of red-tinted colours), and the black (\\'hich includes all dark col-ours, for example, green and dark bluc }. A~ red chicken is a common sacrifice to occult. agencies invokcd to repel or crush a mystical source of ennlity such as is implied in the case of an evil Destiny- red bein.~ the colour of an~cr. Colour svmbolism ente~s al so into the ritual directed at the 1)estinv itself. Expe. rt informants assured me that an evil Predestiny has bee;1 ~nown to dcmand a "red" ora ··black" chicken or goat for thc swecptng away ritual, but in the t\A/O cases 1 w·itncssed and in others 1 \'\'as tol~ about the demand proved invariably to be for a \vhite goat anda \\·hue fo\\·l. \\'hite stands for light, calmness~ coolness, bcnignity, for ~hat is propitious in general. 1~ thc present case rhc ritual of ridding t e Patient of her malign Destiny is, as it \·vere, suffused \VÍth \vhite-

90

ness and the Uestiny itself is tempted \\'ith white offcrings to corne dovvn to take its ""things ~' and go. Furthermore, the participants, and in particular the patients, having fasted all day and so having svrn. bolically cleared themselves of thcir preoccupations, 1 eat anct especially drink of the \V hite ofTerings: the beer and \V hite Hour sancti .. fied by having been used in libation; the ritually marked porridge; and portions of the ftesh of the sacrificed chickens and of thc goat. 'J''his communion aspect is much emphasized asan esscntial act in the appropriation by the patient and her husband of the good 1)c~tiny that is assumed to take the place of the expelled evilDcstiny. As regards the most dramatic episode, vvhen the evil Prcdcstiny is actually swept away, the symbolism is almost self-evident. i\gain the excess~ the overdetermination of the magical effectors, is note\vorthy. \\'ords, though indispensable, are evidently not enough. Consider the Destiny's i..things ~'. I\yaangzum gave me the convcntional explanation which 1 also received from other elders on this and on other occasions. All the ••things" he said ""'·ere ~.~.revealed '~ by divination. \Vhat they mean? l~he mousehole dust \\'as demanded by the l)estiny, he explained~ beca use Hthere are al\\'ays mice in a \\'oman 's sleeping room and when a woman gives birth thcre the mice flee and get a\vay ,,_ 1 asked if perhaps the idea ""'·as to hidc away the cvill)estiny in a mousehole, but he r~jected this. uw•hat!" he exclaimcd, Hdrive out an evil J)estiny and let it come back into the sleeping room·:· . ~ No. the point~ as 1 understood it, was that the mousehole dust signihes an empty mousehole and consequently the flight of the micc \vhich \vould herald the hoped-for birth of a child. 1\s for the white egret. 1\yaangzum continued, "'these birds disappear completely \·vhcn the rainy season (v.rhich is the propitious season for a Destiny-building ritual) comes. V\''"e don ,t see even a single one then and we don ~t k no"' v."here they go to- perhaps to your distant land! ,, S""'·allovvs are so metimes demanded, he added, though they don 't disappcar cornplei eJy, and sometimes other birds that are very rare in thc rainy scason. ·rhis item~ then, images the IJestiny as being carried off, as thf invocations phrase it, to such far a\vay places as the remotest \vilder.. ness. The magical intention is clear from the use of a dcad egret.

do

1rvty interpretation. This fasling, the eldcrs r.xplained, is oblig~tory IJy custnnl. \\"'ht>n th~ patienls r~t, they_ ~id, the bad l)estiny .is also dcprivr.d of an~ dr!~k. 1-'or as ~n~ is.- .;() one's lJesuny. Th1s 1s an added spur to at to come and take Jts "th1ngs · and the oflenngs ;til depart.

rc:-oc.

d

C()PING WITH DESTINY, AMO~G THE TALLE.:-.ISI

91

deed, 1 w·as assured, if it "'·as impossible to obtain a \vhole bird~ a l~ng or even a single feather would suffice. Similarly, the invocations \~ lain the uearth dog, ( lengn-haa). '].his small grey grub, exp . d , "'b urro\vs .tnto t h e eart h'~· ar1d h as to be. dug " aangzum exp la1ne ~~- The J)estiny is summoned, by the implied authority of the ncestors vouchsafed through the bvghakyee, to descend into the mud :alls of the mock shrine like the "earth dogs '' that are '"burrowed" into it- in order~ as the cowrie shell expresses it, to engcnder the coolness ofa mind at peace. ' Next the ebony tree lea ves and stirring stick. 'I,hc ebony ( gaa) tree is belie\led to be a dangerous or evil tree, liable to llc mag·ically animated and then to injure or even kili peuple. This is \ovcll kno\\;n but 1 was never able to elicit a reaso11ed explanation from even thc best informed of my friends and ít \vould lead me loo far afield~ in the present context, to explore further the bclicfs about "·good~"· and . ~.bad~~ trees and the properties that might give rise to such ideas. In the "~sv.'eeping away ''ritual the lea ves are taken to t>e imbued \Vith the power of the boghak_}ttt. In this situation it is ... bad '~ po"'·er sinF.N

ONE OF 'THE CH.ARACTERISl'ICSof a myth or folk-tale is that it occa-

sions thoughts, feelings, associations, and recollections \\l·hich carry far beyond the narrative itself. \'" et these subjective, concrete and idiosyncratic elements are pruned out or played clown in both myths and myth analyses. Devereux has suggested that this is because a myth ur folk .. tale becomes ~·idely accepted only \vhen concrete incidents are generalized, superftuous details omitted, the narrative fitted into the conventional mould of narrati\'e technique, and the basic plot "' ground dov.'n to its universally val id nucleus, ( 1948~ p. 238). In order that it be generally available, a narrative must seem to tran~cend the priva te \\'orlds of the m}1h-maker and the myth-teller. 1\nd ~n arder that it convey ~·ith authority the official meaning assigned to ~t, a narrative must al\\'ays retain a conventional camouflage of unpersonalitv. 1

95

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The problem of myth analysis is comparable to the problem of myth making, for, in both cases, the "made thing '' must facilita te or mediate a dialectic between subjective particularities and conven .. tional or universal meanings. l"he myth-maker or narrator must organize and represent subjective, idiosyncratic elements of his O\vn life in ways ~·hich enable others to discover their O\\'n meanings in his \\'Ork. The myth analyst must establish a similar rapport: between his O\\'n response to a narrative and the meanings it has for people in another society. The difficulty of myth analysis is one of avoiding a reduction of the meaning of the myth to particular subjective realities, \\l·hether of a narrator, an informant, or of oneself. At the same time one must avoid a reduction of subjective realizations to conventional authorized meanings. V·le cannot expect to develop an inductive science of mythology. Professional and personal predilections w·ill always inHuence the mode of analvsis. And one cannot tell the same tale t\\'Íce. The art of myth analysis is to make a virtue out of these conditions. Thc concerns and interests of the analyst and the \\l·ays in which a narrative varíes from context to context and from person to person should be regarded as means for attaining neYl syntheses rather than as obstacles to attaining a set goal. In this ~·ay the m}1h analysis becomes like the myth, continually transcending the conditions that fostered it. Lévi-Strauss speaks of this process in a famous passage: ~

... it is in the last resort immaterial whether ... the thought processes of the South .~merican lndians take shape through the medium of my thought, or whether nline take place through the medium of theirs. \Vhat matters is that the human mind. regardless of the identity of those who happen to be ghring it expression, should display an increasingly intelligible structure as a result of the doubly reflexi\'e for,·vard movement of tv.'o thought processes acting one u pon the other, either of v.·hich can in turn provide the spark or tinder \~·hose conjunction v.rill shed light on both. 11910, p. 13.)

This paper begins ~·ith an analysis of a Kuranko narrative and an examination of the ways in v.-hich the narrative treats, and perhaps resolves, \'arious problems associated \Vith intergenerational succession. The analysis leads to a consideration of the nucleus of more o~ less universal elements, at the level of latent content and of structure. · present in the Kuranko narrative. 1 then explore, somew·hat specu .. · Uevereux has referred to the •"double invariance'~ of a m\o·th: rhe 1nvariance of its latent c..ontent. and of its structure. The logical relationship between th~se two invariances (or explanations nf invariance) is that of Heisenbergian con1plementarity (Dcvereux, 1970, p. 1229).

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· ·el'-' the significance of physical imagery in myths conccrning: the ~ . . ths of heroes. The progress1on of the argument, from particular . . blf bnographical problems to more abstract~ speculat1ve concerns, and ~~ck to particular probl~ms again, _is in_fluen.ced by the. narra ti ves "·hich it seemed appropr1ate to cons1der an th1s essay. lt 1s my vic\v hat myths and folk-tales are essentially like this and serve this ~urpose. 1bey occasion and mediate a transcendent contcmplation of the world, the better to return vvith altered experience to the mundane and particular situatton from "'·hich one took one ,s departure.

tauv ' '

'.J

The Kuranko narrative: ''The origins of rivalry among half-brothers"

A certain chief had t"'·o \·vives. These t\'/0 womcn became prcgnant at almost the same time. So they gave birth on the same day. Both babies v.'ere male. Before this time the chief had appointed t\\'O finabas, one to each \vife, so that they would announce the births to him as soon as they occurred. Thefinaba appointed to the first ~vife \Vent to announcc the birth of her child to the chief. \\'rhen he arrived at thc chief~s house he found the chief eating. Instead of delivering the message and informing the chief that his son was born, the.finaba sat do\\'n and accepted an invitation to partake of the food. The second \\'Ífe also sent her.finaba to tell the chief about the birth of her child. He went and found evervone " eating. He "'·as invited to ea t. But he said, ~' I \\'as sent to deliver a message first: your wife has given birth toa baby boy. ~~ 'l'hen thc chief said, '~Good, that is the child to "'·hom 1 shall give my father's name. '~ So that child "'·as named after the chief's father. Thus the second child beca me the first. '[hen the first \Vife 's finaba said, uÜh chief, J carne tO deliver the ~ame message: your "'"ife has given birth to a baby boy. '' But by then 1t \vas too late. So the first child beca me the second. No\\t, before the birth of these children the diviner had told the chief ;hat one of his sons would prove eminently capable of succeeding him. be children lived together. But the first \"o'Ífe was never content. Shc ~·as always unhappy about the position of the second son who had een proclaimed the first. During this time the children were gro\\'ing up and receiving instruction in the same household. 'fhere carne a time when the second son (who had been proclaimed

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the first) began to ~·alk. The first son could only cra\ovl. This went on for several years. The mother of the first son (~·ho had been pro .. claimed the second) began telling her son that (;od had perceived his inadequacy and so had made the boy's father proclaim him second. '~NOY.' look at my co-wife~s child, he goes about gathering wood and doing everything for his mother, but here you are, lame and unable to do a thing for me. And every time 1 have to send your brother 00 errands forme, his mother tells me that she is not responsible thélt rny OY.'n child is lame." The woman continued to upbraid her child. But his \vas no ordinary lameness. 'fhe reason for it \vas that on the very day he \valked his father would die. But as a result of his mother's persistent nagging he got up on to his knees and \\'ent to a monkey-bread tree, seized it, shook it, and uprooted it. He brought the entire tree trunk and laid it at his mother's door. He then told his mother'sfinaba to go and tell his father to send him the iron bow. They brought the iron bow. When he drew back the bO\\' it broke. He sent for another one. The same thing happened. Then he announced that he '"'ould go himself. He stood u p. His mother sang: rata lamanda, rata tamanda, lcelija le kake~ l-ata tamanda; hi )'O, bi )'O, biyo, ma bi nyomye. (\'"ata walked, \'rata walked, envy m a de '{ata ·walk; today oh, today oh, today oh, there has never been a day like today.)

As soon as '\,.ata stood up a serious illness befell his father. So the boy sat do"'·n. But his mother was laughing at him, taunting hin1. So he finally stood up, walked straight to his father and took his father's gown and cap and put them on. ~~s he "'·alked 3\\'ay his father died. Because of his tremendous strength he became ruler. But thc other v.'ife \vas jealous and urged her son to go a\\l·ay rather than be ruled by the proclaimed younger brother. The second son who had been pr~­ claimed first ~·ent a"'·ay. He never ceased to be resentful of hts brother's position. Since that time this rivalry bet\\'een brothers ha~ existed. Cp to the present time brothers of the same father but ot different mothers are rivals and competitors. Ethnographical background

The Kuranko occupy the region of the western and north-\vestern Guinea Highlands. Of a total population of o\-·er 125,000 sorne 90,000

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live in Sierra Leone. The Kuranko are a ~lande-speaking people, recognizing their origins in "J\,1ande '~, and closely related to the Ivlalinke of Upper Guinea. ~fy field research among the Kuranko (Sierra Leone, 1969-70 and 1972) included the collection and study of oral narratives. Narratives are generally categorized, either as kun 2a kore (lit. ~"\vord oldjseniorfvenerable~') oras tilei. rl'he first category includes clan traditions and ''myths '' (\\'hich are considered to be a Jegacy of the ancestors and thus atrue "), while the second category includes "folk-tales ~'~ (which are admittedly fictional although concerned ~·ith "things that really happen "). The narrative about '\'ata is categorized as tilei. [ have published else'hrhere accounts of Kuranko kinship and social structure; here 1 will simply dra w attention to those facts \vhich are directly relevant to understanding the \"ata narrative. 1 l. Succession (including succession to chieftaincy) generally follows the principie of primogeniture, although in practice an eldest son ~·ill be passed over in favour of a younger brother or even father's younger brother if he is not capable of shouldering the responsibilities of the office. 2 The eldest son 's assumption of his father's position formally takes place ajter the father~s death. The assumption is signified by the son inheriting and donning his father's cap and go\\'n. •'Positions", say the Kuranko, "are like garments". 2. A man ~s immediate successor is normally the first-born son of his first C'senior") \vife. According to Kuranko naming custom, the first-born son takes the father's father's name; the second-born is named from the mother's side (usually after the mother~s father). The successor is thus identified ~·ith the patriline, \\'hile the secondborn is identified with the jurally insignificant matriline. Conventionally, the relationship bet\veen a man and his eldest son is characterized by formality, restraint~ and latent antagonisms. The father's high expectations of his heir are often felt to be burdensome and unrealistic. The father adopts a critical, disdainful attitude to'hrards his heir, particularly in public. I\1any ~ .See particularly Jackson (1974, 1975, 1977a! 1977b, and in press).

~ Ainong the Kuranko thcre are usually severa} daimants and' competitors for chietly ofncc; persona) ability is the decisive factor in election (cf. Southwo:d 's study ( l 966:· uf the importanct' of pcrsonality factors in the sclection of sucC"essors to the Buganda king).

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Kuranko see this behaviour as a necessary pretence, as a \\·ay of deftecting attention a"'·ay from the privileged position uf the heir and thus avoiding envy among the heir's younger brothers. Bu1 many elder sons do not perceive the artifice of their father's belit.t1ing and reserved manner; particularly when young, their experience is of paternal rejection. 3 . .t\lthough a man's fate and fonune are largely detcrmined by his patrilineal forebcars and by his membership of his patrilineage, the ancestral blessings are mediated by a man~s mother. 'l'hus, a diviner "'·ill often explain a man 's misfortune as being a con5cquence of disrespect sho\\'n by the mother to"'·ards her husband. Good fonune is typically and readily attributed to the proper conduct of a man ~S mother. Partly as a consequence of these ideas. w·omen tend to blame themselves for misfortunes suffered by their children. But, since the blessings of the patrilineal ancestors are éi kind of scarce resource competed for by a man 's several "'·ives (each of \vhom strives for the prosperity of her o\vn children), a \\·oman may be inclined to blame a co-wife (\\·hose childrcn are we11 favoured) for the failures and misfortunes of her O\\'n children. From this tension and latent antagonism among co-wives, the Kuranko derive the usual explanation for the rivalry among halfbrothers (sons of the same father but of difTerent mothers). Thc resentments of junior siblings are equated w·ith the resentments of junior ~vives. ~rhe authoritarian, selfish behaviour of ·~elder brother" or of "'senior \\'ife '' constitutes one of the commonest ieitmotzjs in Kuranko folk-tales. The relationship bet\\reen half-brothers or ortho-cousins is known as fadenye (lit. ~·rather's children-ship '')~ and the termjaden~ye may be applied in describing any deep-seated rivalry or feud among pcople. It is thus directly comparable "'·ith the Bambara fadena (C;riaule, 1973~ p. 12) and the ~1alinke~faden)'a (Hopkins, 1971, p. 100). 4. Kuranko society is composed of four major estates: the rulers; non-ruling Hcommoner" clans; traditionally ~fuslim clans; the occupational and hereditary groups with \\·hom rulers may not marry. The latter grouping is knovvn as the n~yemakale. It includes the xylophonists and praise-singers (jeLis) and the bardic keepers of the chiefty traditions and genealogies (finas). Ranked lo\·vest in the social hierarchy, finas (the terms finaba and jeliba refer to fina men and jeli men; ba meaning •"big ") are in the service of rulers v.·hosc

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patronage t~ey ~njoy. Apocryphal stories abound. in the ruling families, attr1but1ng all the catastrophes of the \varr1or past to the caprice and cunning of finas and jelis ~·ho exceeded their servile roles~ initiated rash projects and, by reminding chiefs of their courageous forebears, connived to encourage rulers on disastrous courses of action.

Yata and Sundiata: the Ma,nding connections ·rhe '\'ata narrative \\'as related to me in English by my field assistant, Noah Bokari I\1arah~ in Kabala~ July 1970. i\t that time neither ~oah nor 1 \\'as a\\'are of the resemblances and possible connections bet\\·een the Kuranko narrative (to \vhich Noah gave the aetiological subtitle) and the \\'ell-kno,vn ~~lande epic of Sundiata. The hero, ~{ata, whose name is mentioned only in the refrain his mother sings when he gets up and walks for the first time, is undoubtedly Sundiata, although this name and epic are scarcely kno"vn among the Kuranko in Sierra Leone. l\mong the Kuranko in Guinea, '~the name Sundiata is vaguely kno\vn but his legend is practically ignored'~ (Person, 1973, p. 207, footnote). The hero of Kuranko epics is invariably the ancestor of the hunters, ~1ande Fa Bori, but his name is never linked to Sundiata as it is in the "!v1andingo, epi e (Niane, 1965 ). '"lbe sol e 'lersion of the Sundiata epi e V\'hich I heard among the Kuranko '"las related to me by a jeliba, \\'idely travelled in Guinea. This version, narrated by \,r eli Fode Gibate in Kabala, i\ugust 1970, \vas given as an explanation of the origins of the xylophone and of praise-singing. 1 shall hereafter refer to this version as "the Giba te version ''. Those passages \vhich are relevant to the subject of this essay are abstracted below. The ancestor of the ~~lansare ~·as called J\,1ande Sundiata ... He first demonstrated his pO\\'ers of \\'Ítchcraft 1 against his mother. His mother conceived him but she remained pregnant for four mili ion~ f~ur hundred and forty years, four months and four days. During this tune !v1ande Sundiata ~·ould leave his mother~s belly at night. He Would go into the bush and hunt. He was a great hunter. i\t davvn he Wou}d return to town and leave the animals there. rl'hen he \VOuld return to his mother 's belly. At night his mother \\rould look at her •\v·llchcraft =suwa ye. In this context it is a metaphor for Sundiata 's extraordinary powers.

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belly but see nothing; but during the day her belly would be S\\'Ollen. This confused her. She \\'ent toa diviner and said, u By day 1 am pregnant, by night 1 a m not. '' And she said, ... Every morning people fi~d dead animals in the town., The diviner said, ... "·ou must prepare rice .. Aour [dege] for sacrifice and offer it to four elderly "'·omen. Therc is something in your belly that ~'ill conquer and command the entire world. ,, Sundiata \\'as the first chief in this \\'Orld. 'rhe woman carried out the diviner's instructions. Then the eldtrly "'·omen told her that \\'hen she next \\'Oke at night and found her bell~· empty she should take a mortar and place it on her sleeping rnat. rrhev also told her to cover the mortar "''ith her bed sheet and then lea ve that place and sleep elsewhere ... l'hey said, "By the grace of (;od you w·ill give birth to your child tomorro"'·; that child is older than its own mother. ,, .1

'rhat night !vi ande Sundiata left his mother 's belly. \'\'hen she sa "' that he had gone she did just as the old ~·omen had told her: she took the mortar and covered it ~·ith her bed sheet, ~·ent and slept elsc"'·here. \'ery early in the morning, at cock-cro\v, ~1ande Sundiata returned. He "'·anted to re-enter his mother's belly but the mortar prevented him from doing so. He knocked his head against the mortar and cried out. l"hen everyone exclaimed, ~'Oh, ~1ande l\.'lusukoro has delivered her child." l\t1ande Sundiata was crying like a baby. But when the people carne to see him they found that he had tecth . .~lthough he cried like a baby he \\'as a grown man. Everyone gathered round. i\ chicken \vas killed and cooked. The baby, ~1ande Sundiata, ate it all. Everyone \\'as astounded. The ~rise men carne and said, a\'"ou should not be \\'Orried, this is no mere baby, this is son1ething great. ~ ~ \\'hen other boys went to gather leaves, l\.iande Sundiata "·ould go too, cra~rling like a baby to gather leaves for his mother. "\then the senior hunters carne to to~vn \\rith meat for sale, ~lande Sundiata would disappear. \\7hen he ~·ent into the bush he would be a gro\\. n man, but "'·hen he carne back to to\vn he ~·ould be like a baby again. So \\rhen they speak of l\1ande Sundiata, they are not speaking of an ordinary man. He "'·as a nyenne. 1 The reference to Sundiata as a nyerml' ('~spirit of the wild ') is rrlt:la?horical~ a way of en:pha ~i,;:· ing l".is extraordinary powcrs and bis anon1alous posit ion (_lik~ th~ ro·~:·'r'Tir~ half-wa!' bet w~er: r ht' wurld ofman and the '"'orld ofanimals). 1

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pJ{ E

The narrative continues

~·ith

a description of hoYl

~~lande

Sundiata

~·ent on living a double life: a child by day, a supreme hunter by

igbt. "fhe tov.'nspeople never suspected that ~fande Sundiata \Vas the

nrovider of their abundant meat supplies. On one journey into the

~ush,

Mande Sundiata steals the xylophone from the spirits of the v.rild (the nJenne ), shooting and killing them. l"hen Sira Ka arta takcs up the xyloph~ne an~ becomes Sundiata 's praise-singer. He gives Sundiata the t1tle kezta, the Kuranko folk-etymology of which is ''property-taker" (froni ke, "property"). The Kuranko also say that

Sundiata means "'heart-burner'', from run ("heart '~) and ;•a ('"dry~' or •"searing"). According to Yeli Fode, another praise name of Sundiata ¡5 Suma\voro, said to derive from sume (uelephantiasis of the scrotum ") and u•oro (''calf of the leg~'). 1 liis name is made up from his deeds. They named him for what he did. Sundiata, beca use he c.:ould strike fear into people 's hearts. Keita, beca use he could seize anyone 's property. ~1ande Suma\\o·oro, beca use when he beca me angry he \\o·ould make others so afraid that they would be afflicted by elephantiasis of the testicles. ·rhcsc werc the words ~·ith which Sira Kaarta praised Sundiata. [Yeli Fode Giba te, from his 1970 narrati\'e. J

One of the most lengthy and detailed versions of the Sundiata epic is that of Djeli r..1amoudou Kouyaté, recorded and published by D. T. ~iane (translated from the French, 1965). In order to indica te similarities and differences between the Kuranko narratives and the u~fandingo'' epic recorded by Niane, a synopsis ofthe events ¡lreceding Sundiata 's exile is presented below. l shall hereafter refer to this as "the Niane version ". Sundiata 's father, ~1aghan Kon l·'atta, has three \vives: the first, Sassouma Bérété,. mother of the heir and future king. Dankaran u• 'fouman, and his sister, ~ana 'I'riban; the second, Sogolon Kedjou, mother of Sundiata and his t\t\/·o sisters, Sogolon Kolonkan and Sogolon Djamarou; the third, ~amandje, mother of !vtanding Bory (or ~1anding Bakarv), best friend and half-brother of Sundiata. A soothsayer informs the king that his true heir is not yet born, even though Dankaran, his eldest son, is eight years old at this time. l'he soothsayer foretells the coming of a hideous and humpbacked \voman \Vhom the king must marry, for she . 'will be the mother of him \\'ho :_In thc _:\¡iane \-Crsion, Sournauro Kanté is a powerful son:crcr-kin~ whon1 ~l•ndia~a llghr.;;, .1nd hrlal. l1y deff-ats in his conqlJest and unillca1ion of :vlali. The .-.ignilicanc.:e of the refcrencf' to thf' ca rof '1ll e 1eg ( woro ) .ts d.tscussccl' 1. n a 1a ter secuoa . ot- t h.1~ papcr. ' t

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Ylill make the name of ~1ali immortal for ever~' (I\iane, 1965~ p. 6 ). The king marries, as predicted, but his wife - Sogolon Kedjou _ repulses his advances. To his griot (jeliba) the king confesses his inability to possess Sogolon; furthermore, he doubts that she i~ a human being since "during the night her body became covered \vith long hairs ", so striking fear into his heart. But the a\vraith" which possesses Sogolon is finally subdued, and she conceives the king's child. The king's first "vife - Sassouma - becomes envious and afraid of Sogolon whose son, it has been predicted, Ylill rule over her own. Sassouma uses sorcery in a vain attempt to kill Sogolon. Sundiata is born and named (Sundiata is a contraction, according to the narrator, of Sogolon and the boy's name- Djata). His development is slo"v and difficult. At three years of age he still cannot \val k or stand. Sassouma, whose O\vn son is nO\\' eleven, derives a malicious pleasure from the adversity of her co-wife 's child. S he taunts the child for being retarded and '~stiff legged ". At seven years of age Sundiata still cannot walk or stand. The king dies and Dankaran succeeds him. Sassouma continues to persecute Sogolon and her backward child. Sogolon weeps because of the public ridicule she must endure. Sogolon 's son ~·as spoken or with nothing but irony and scorn. People had sten one-eyed kings, one-armed kings~ and lame kings, but a stiff-legged king had never been heard tell of. No matter hOVY' great the destiny promised ror tvlari Djata rntght be, the throne could not be given to someone who had no po\"·er in his legs .... Surh were the remarks that Sogolon heard every day. [Niane, 1965, p. 18.]

One day Sogolon happens to be short of condiments and she asks Sassouma for sorne baobab leaf. Sassouma points out that her son picked the leaves for her; she laughs derisively at Sogolon and mocks the uselessness of her son, Sundiata. Humiliated and enraged~ Sogolon strikes her son with a piece of wood, blaming him for her mis .. fortunes and for the insults she has suffered. Sundiata then declares, u¡ am going to walk today." He sends to his father's smiths to have them make the heaviest possible iron rod. In order to wipe out the insult she has suffered, Sogolon asks that Sundiata bring the entire baobab tree (notjust the leaves) to her house. The iron rod is forged. A praise-singer cries, "l'oday is a day like any other, but it will see what no other da y has seen. '' The iron rod is

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brought to Sundiata. Sitting up and then standing with the aid of the iron rod, he bends it into the shape of a bo\\". Sogolon sings the praisc of God "'·ho has given her son the use of his legs. Sundiata then uproots the baobab and takes it to the door of his mother's house. Quickly, people begin to compare Sogolon \\'ith her senior co-\1\·ife, Sassouma. )[ was because the former had been an exemplary "'·ife and mother that God had granted strength to her son'~ legs for, it \vas sa~d, the more a \·vi fe )ove~ and rcspects her husband and the more she suffers for her ch1ld. the more valorous wlll the child be one day. Each is the child of his mother; the child is worth no more than the n1other is worth. lt \~,;as nol astonishing that the king Dankaran Touman was so colourless, for his mother had ne\ler shO\\o·n the slightest respect lo hcr husband and nevcr. in the presence of the late king, did she shO\\o' that humility \\'hich e\lery \\o·ife should sho\\' be rore her husband. People recalled her scenes of jcalousy and the spiteful remarks shc circulared about her co-wifc and her child. [Nianc, 1965, p. 22.]

Sassouma no\\' attempts to kill Sundiata by \·vitchcraft. Sogolon, fearing for the safety of her son 's vulnerable half-brother, wlanding Bory, and her daughters, decides to take her family into exile. Other versions of the epic~ treated in an essay by Pagcard ( 1961 )~ supply details \vhich are also found in the Kuranko narratives. i\ccording to one of these versions (hereafter referred to as thc Pageard version), \vhich Pageard collected in Segou: Soundiata, the eldest of these ~ that is, Sogolon 's 1 children, could not \val k before the age of seventeen. \Vhen he got up for the first time, it was to avenge the honour of his mother and he had to lean against a huKe iron bar \\'hich gave \\'ay. lt \\'as on that occasion that the father of the KOUY...I\ TE griots (l)ionkouma Doga) and Soun~iata 's two half-sisters, S()GOLON (KOLO~C;A~ and SOGOLON (SQ(;ONl\) tnvented the song bcginning with ~~ Soundiata \\'·as able to get up to-da y'~. 1Pageard, 1961 , p. 56. ]

Pageard al so stresses that Sundiata 's voluntary exile \ovas "j ustificd to the extent that it pre·vents a brotherly struggle and everyonc kno"'·s the strength of the 'fadenya' ( a rivalry bet\\'een sons born of thc same father but of different mothers) in the f\,fanding country~' (1961, p. 63) . . Finally, it is \Vorth noting a synoptic account of Sundiata 's birth, gtven by Bird (1971 ). In this account (hereafter referred toas the Bird version), details of Sundiata 's birth are much more similar to those in the \'ata narrative.

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!\fiCHAELj..-\CKSC)~

..~fter Fasaku ~lagan's marriage to Sogolon, both ~·omen become pregnant ctnci both gi..,·e birth on the same da y. Saman Berete 's son, Dankaran T uman, is the first born, but Sunjata ~s binh is announced first to the king. He joyfuHy proclaims Su1~jd ~a his heir o\-er the protrst of Saman Berete. Saman Serete has a spell cast on Su~jata as a result of "rhich he is paralyzed for nine years. The spell is e\-entually broken and Sunjata walks, giving rise toa magnificent series ofsongs. [Bird, 1971, p. 21.}

lt is outside the scope of this paper to attempt a scholarly comparative study or the Se\-eral versions of the Sundiata epic which l have referred to or summarized above. Rather than investigate the sources, history, and diffusion of the epic among the ~1ande-speaking peoples of the West Sudan, 1 wish to use these versions, first, to establish for the Yata narrative a Ylider historical and cultural context, 1 second, to highlight certain leil-motifs which are characteristic of these narra ti ves and of hero myths throughout the world. For example, all these narratives include problematic episodes associated with the hero 's conception, gestation, birth, or maturation: prolonged infancy {reluctance to walk) in the Yata narrative and the Niane, Pageard, and Bird versions; delayed and difficult conception in the Niane version; prolonged gestation (reluctance to be born) in the Gibate version. Other themes include: the artificial reversal of proper birth-order position (the '{ata narrative, the Bird version); the correlation of tensions and ri,·alries within a generation with tension~ and rivalries betw~en the generations; the anomalous attributes of the hero, often established through physical imagery pertaining to weakness and strength, precocity and backwardness. 1 propose to elucidate the ways in which these motifs may be regarded as variations on a single therne and approaches to a common problem, the significance of which may prove to be transcultural. 2

The Yata narrativa: an analysis

First, it is imponant to note that the finaba 's failure to transmit the message from the chief's senior wife to the chief brings about an am1 Th~

Yata narra ti ve could ~ ~garded as a surviving fragment of the Sundiata e pie, now hecon:L· a roen village tale existing ata lower ~ve] ofmythological thoughl (Lb·i..,..'itrauss, 19'0. p. 331). Bird noles that sorne cpisodes of the Sundiata epic are oflen omiued or abridged in narration (197.1, p. 21 ). Perhaps, as in the cast: of so many myths. 1he ... completen ,;ersion is a fiction, or ·1 product of t~ contexl of recording. 2 1\1y method of analysis is deri.,·ed l'rom and inspired by the structural approach of Lévi-Strau~s. 1 ha ve, however, placed greater emphasts on rontent! appJying severa! of the ideas and insights of Dr.vereux.

pRE\tE='TED SLTCCESSIONS

107

biguous situation. The proper status distinction bet"'·cen thc t\-vo sons . vreversed, but the superior ability of the rightful heir, although at ~rst camouftaged, remains intact. Second, the finnba 's error is that he allow·s his appetite for food (personal gratification) to defiect him from his social duty as a message-bearer. ~1yths from throughout Africa attribute the breakdo\vn of social unity and continuity to a failure to communicate a message. J)eath and afHiction have their origins in a message garbled or inforn1ation incorrectly transmitted' (l\brahamsson, 1951). In the '\"ata narra ti ve, the firlaba's error has t\vo secondary conscquenccs. First, since the rightful heir is named second in line of succession~ the delayed transmission of the message has the effect of Ú2creasing the distance bctwccn the chief and his senior wife's son. This momentarily obscures a contradiction \\'hich arises from the fact that although thc binh of a son guarantees the continuity of the lineage it also presages the displacement of the incumbent. Social continuity must be maintained despite the discontinuous nature of individuallife. But this continuity is often jeopardized, ( 1) by the resistance of the incumbent to the idea that he can and must be replaced, (2) by the heir~s rcluctance to accede. The second consequence ofthejinaba~s error in delaying transmission of the message is that the distance is decreased between the two brothers. lnstead of becoming unequivocally status differcntiated, the senior wife 's child becomes the junior (but "'·ill claim the chieftaincy by right and by virtue of superior ability) \vhile the junior wife::s child becomes the senior (but \Vill fail to claim the chieftaincy beca use of his inferior birthright and inferior ability). rfhis analysis suggests that the nascent conflict between a chief and his heir is resolved fictionally by a kind of displacement: the conflict comes to be focused upon the relationship between first and second sons. This ~'displacement ,, (\\'hich in a structural analysis would be termed a "•transformation ") has been noted by Rank in his study of hero myths: uThe duplication ofthe fathers (or the grandfathers) by a brother may be continued in the next generation, and concern the he ro himself, thus leading to the hrother m)'thJ ... ,, ( 1959, p. 90). Herskovits (1958, pp. 88-89) has also referred to this transformation¡ displacement in Dahomean narra ti ves "'·he re intergenerational conflicts are often transmuted by intragenerational ones. Among the Kuranko it is in fact often asserted that a father's feigned rejection and overbearing criticism of his eldest son is an attempt to disguise the ac-

108

MICH.AELJACKSC)N

tual line of succession. The father's delegation of authority to 1he eldest son over the latter 's younger brothers is interpreted similarl v: as a way of deftecting attention and envy away from the privileg~d relationship betv.'een father and eldest son. Both stratagems are seen as \vays of preventingjadenye. Other transformations in the narrative must no\\' be examined, particularly since the father 's role is played dO\\'n and the mothers ~ role~ played up. Indeed, in all versions of the Sundiata epic \·vhich we ha ve examined, Sundiata 's father is peripheral and inconspicuous. Let u 5 first contrast two crucial episodes:

t. The senior \\'ife 's finaba delays transmitting a message ..t\s a consequence the status distinction between the chief's two sons is reversed, and a great distance exists between the chief and the ri,ghtful he ir. 2. The senior wife berates her son beca use of his backwardness. :\s a consequence the status distinction bet\\'een the chief and his eldest son is reversed since, as soon as \rata walks his father di es (and \''ata becomes chief). The first episode involves male-male oppositions ~·hile the sccond in vol ves female-male oppositions. They are linked by virtue of thc fact that both finabas and ~·amen occupy marginal, mediatory, mcssagebearing positions. When they exceed the passive, mediatory functions ascribed to them, calamity follows. 1 The second episode is thus a transformation of the first, but \Vhile it reitera tes the same moral stricture (message-bearers should not be message-senders) it has the effect of displacing blame from the finaba on to the senior "'·ife. Thc narrative thus leads to the conclusion that she is ultimately responsible for the chief's death. She goaded her son into walking, although her son was reluctant to sho~· his pO\\'ers lest his father die. Once again, an intergenerational conflict (mother-son) is transmutcd by an intragenerational one (~·ife-husband). In the I\iane version the contlict betw·een senior and junior cO-\\'Íves is emphasized far more. The preceding analysis establishes the basic transformational pattern of the narra ti ve: intergenerational (parent-child) conflicts are transformed into (or displaced on to) intragenerational (sibling) confhe most obvious Kuranko examples, in which self-~nterest and sdf-willedncss eclipse duty C-1 1d pass;v¡ty, are: tbc wife as ""·i:c:h (see .Jackson, 19?~). and the rnotber as lo'.-~r c,rc=-creati"'l' \'t'f::ol~s prot rcativc !)exualit y; (se: e .J étckson, 1[)7/lt).

pRE\lENTED SUCCESSIONS

109

flicts, and the source of conftict is located in male-female rather than male-male relationships. The displacement of tension and conftict away from ••central '', "'vertical" relationships towards ''peripheral ,,, ''lateral" relationships is as characteristic of day-to-day Kuranko explanations as it is of Kuranko fictional schemes. The pattern is rypical enough in traditional .~frican societies: to justify a digression to discuss the relationships betvveen institutionalized and fictionalized variations of it. ' Aspects of succession

1. .he Freudian concept of displacement implies that emotional stress is deflected from the important to the less important. In Abraham 's words, "The least important is substituted for the most important and is transposed into the focal point of interest." (1909~ p. 188.) ¡.~reud himself referred to this process as ~'the inversion of all values ,. In the narratives discussed so far~ displacements of the following kinds are typical:

father-son ~elder brother-younger brother (vertical~ lateral) elder brother-younger brother ~ half-brother-half-brother (central~ peripheral) half-brother-half-brother ~ co-\\'Ífe-co-"'·ife (male-male ~ female-female) lbe question no"'· arises: given the basic transformational pattern of the \"ata narra ti ve, \\'hy should intragenerational and male-female relationships be considered less important than intergenerational and male-male relationships? i\.t this point we must look at sume of the problems associated \\'ith vertical systems of agnatic succession in Africa. Anaong the Lugbara, wiu~hcraft accusations within Lhe minimallineage are uf t wo kir.c:s a ~on d.gainst his father, lLbrother'~ again~t ~·brother~·. Aparl from ir-..dicating thc> tenswr: and reprt'ssed hostility that oftcn exist uctween father and son, the pattern of \\-·itchc ~aft aeanae

Perse us == r\ ndromcda

Pcrses

Sthcnelos

,\lkaios

Ncstor

h

Eurvstheus Amphitryon (Las t ~oncei ved ==Al km ene

and first born)

Heleios (;orgophone

-I~ysidikc

=Nikippc

¡\naxo"""7 Elektrvon

1

1

,\lkntene=Zeus

lphicles (Second conceived; birth-order position ambiguous)

Heracles (First conceived and second born)

fiG. 1. For a com l t e expos1taon . . see Jac kson N, lvliCHAEL (in press). Dogmas and fictions of birth-order position In 1,.earhook of Symholic Anthropology•. I\tlcGili-Queen 's University Press. ~lontreal. ' KA\\'HARU, l. H. (1976). Personal communication. KERÉNYI, K. (1959). The H"oes of lhe Greeks. Thames and I-Iudson, London. KINSLEY, D. R. (1975). TheSu,ordandlluFlute. UniversityofCalifornia Press ' Berkeley, California. KIRK, G. S. (1973). i~lyth: lis ~Weaning and f·unctions in Ancient and ()lher Cut.

turts. Cambridge LTni\·ersity Press, Cambridge. KCPER, HILDA (1947). An African .4rislocracy: Rank Among lhe ..\u,.a~i. (Jxford UnÍ\'ersity Press, London. LEACH, E. R. (1973). Structuralism in social anthropology. In Slrutluralú·m: an lntroduction (Ed. D. Robey), pp. 37-56. Clarendon Press, Oxford. LESSA, \\l. A. (1956 ). Oedipus-type tales in Oceania . .Journa/ of Arnerúoru1 rolklore, 69., 63-73. LÉVI-STRALSS, CLAUDE (1963). Slructural .4nthropology. Basic Books, New \:' ork. LÉVI-STRALrss, CLAUDE (1970). The Rau• and the (.,'ooked. Jonathan C:ape, London. LÉVI-STRAUSS, CLAUUE ( 1973 ). f'rom Honey to Ashts. Jonathan Cape~ London. LEVY, R. l. ( 1973 ). Tahitians: ,\/ind arzd Experience rn ihe Societ_y lslandJ. l:hicago University Press, Chicago, lllinois. ~fAGt\USSON, E. and ~10RRIS, ~7 • (1869). G'rellis Saga . .F. S. Ellis, London. ~1..c\LI~O\\'.SKI, BRONISL.~W ( 1972). Argonaut.s oj- the J1leslern Pacilic. Routledge and Kegan Paul, London. ~1IDIJLETOI\, J. (1960). Lughara Religion: Ritual and Authoril.Y arnong rH4 ['¿i)\: African People. Oxford University Press, London. ~liLLER, N. (1928). The C'hi/d in Przmilive Societ.,v. Kegan Paul~ 'french and Trubner, London. t\EEDH.~M, R. (Ed.) (1973 ). Right and Left: t:ssaJS on Dual Symbolit (.'l(¡fsiti:·a· tion. Chicago University Press, Chicago, Illinois. NEUMANN~ ERICH (1954). The ()rigins and HislOT.)' of C.'orlst.:iousnesJ. Routlcdge and Kegan Paul, London. NIAI\E, U. T. (1965 ). Sundiata: A.n l.pic oj Old ~\-1 ali (translation e;. 1). Pickett). Longmans~ London. O'FLAHERTY, WENDY D. (1975). Hindu ,\1ylh.L Penguin Books, ~larn1ondS" , ..·onh.

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131

ONit\NS, R. B. (1 9i3 ). The Origins of ~. uroptan 1m1ught. Arno Press, New 'r' ork. PAGE ..&.KIJ, R. (1 961 ). Soundiata Keita and the oral tradition. Jlréseru.:~

Ajrr'caint, 8, 53-72. PERSON, 'l. ( 197 3). Oral tradition and chronology. 1n f'rench PersfJectives irl Ajrican Studies (Ed. P ...~lexandre), pp. 204-220. ()xford lJniversity Press,

London. P.:~: l'ay lor ~I <J6S; and A" J:.,'lh,, ..._,!.ro.1'Jhic lbiu~graJif.J of .:\-ru. Gumr~ ( 196~ ;..

168

A. L. EPs·rEI~

other directions through the mechanisms of reaction-formation and sublimation. In the case of adult individuals psychoanalysi5 has fre. quently been able to show how· distinctive character traits can be traced back to their origins in unresolved conflicts centred on the anal zone (for example, Jones~ 1918; t\braham, 1921 ). vv·hat has all this got to do Vvith tambu? For ansvver \VC may refer briefly to Erikson ,s concept of the organ mode. The child's earliest encounters \Vith his environment are mediated through the organs of the body; depending on the stage of psychic and motor development~ each of the erogenous zones becomes in turn the focus of a mode of approach that gradually becomes generalized. l'hus, from this point of view, for example, the anal-urethral sphincters are the anatomic models for the retentive and eliminative modes, prototypes of a great variety of behavioural forms (Erikson, 1963, p. 52). ~,or the child the act of defecation is a yielding of part of himself, and the infantile experience of that act, and the wishes and fantasies which accompany or are w·oven around it, may come to colour his reactions to subsequent situations that appear to involve ,giving or retaining. It is in this w·ay that, as Freud ( 1918, p. 72) has observed, ;."one of the most important manifestations of the transformed erotism derived from this source [that is, the anal stage] is to be found in the treatment of money, for in the course of life this precious material attracts on to itself the psychical interest Yt'hich w·as originally proper to faeces, the product of the anal zone." In a paper of particular interest in the present context Ferenczi (1914) has traced the steps by Yt'hich the child passes from the original idea of excrement to the seemingly remote one of money~ and shows ho\\' that \\'hich is so often regarded with distaste comes to be symbolicallv associated \Vith what is most treasured. At first the infant finds great satisfaction in playing \\'ith his faeces. This soon becomes disagreeable because of the smell, but the original interest is still revealed in the pleasure found in making mud-pies. A further development occurs vvhen substances y,rhich, because of their stickiness, moistness and colour are apt to leave traces on the body and clothing, become despised and avoided as ''dirty things''. rlbe symbol is deh)'"' drated, and the child's interest turns to sand, a substance which while the colour of earth, is cleaner and dry. Sand in turn is replaced by more acceptable substances which lack odour but are dry and hard: pebbles, stones and then marbles or buttons, which are not only col· I

[AAfBLi: l,HE SHELL-fvfOXE't' OF l'HE l"OLAI

169

lected but are used in childish exchanges. The transformation is complete when the original interest comes to focus on money: "an odourless, dehydrated filth that has been made to shine, (Ferenczi, 1914,

p.276) . . ,

.

.

ferencza·s paper offers a number of suggestave leads Into a discussion of the symbolism of Jan~bu. ·rhe shells themselves used to be gathered in Blanche Bay but, it "'·ill be recalled, the main source for many years has been Nakanai on north Ne\v Britain. There the shells are collected by wading in the shallo\v ~vaters at various points along the coast. 'fhere is then an immediate association of ta"2bu \vith mud> ·rhis at once serves to remind us of Brow·n 's observation that vvhen originally fished the shells have a dull bro"'·n colour and only acquire value as tarnbu \\'hen they have become bleached. It is also of interest to note that the childish practices and games referred to by F erenzci arc also a source of pleasure among ·rolai children. In a game played by very small boys, called a varpo, one of the boys makes a number of little heaps of sand in which he hides something, as a seed, "'·hich the others then have to find. '"rhere is another game, called a pip, 2 of \\~hich Pow·ell (1883, p. 184) has given an early account. Here the participants mould in their hands small oval cakes of sand which thev thro\'\' into the air so as to land in the y.~ater. The point of the game is to see \vho can throw· most cakes into the water \\·ithout breaking apart; if they drop \'\'hole into the \Vater they do so "'·ith a hollow sound and gain the thruw·er a score. Pow·ell also mentions that he often sa\\' grown men and women playing the game for hours on end. Children have also been observed making "toy~' larnhu from shells Y.o'hich they use in play among themselves, according to Rom illy ( 1886, p. 25) driving as hard bargains "'·ith each other as their fathers "'·ould do "'·ith the genuir1e article. l\t the same time it should perhaps be mentioned that children are introduced to the uses of tambu at a very early age and in my own experience if children Y.o'ere present on the occasion of a distribution of shell-money they \\'ould be included among the recipients. . It is in dreams, fantasies and myths that symbolic equations or Identifications are most readily detected. Lfnfortunately, not suffiI

Althou~h I did not hear the word used in this particular context, it may be worth noTing th,it the adjecti\•e pipia which means sandy. as of the sea bottom, also means dirty. ·rht> same tern1 is :lso used as a noun meaning rubbish or refuse. ·A Pip ~18o means a heap or mound. 1 am unable to say i£ there is an etymological link witt-. the fnfrirz mentioned in footnote 1, above, or with another word t;ipi discussed in footnote 2, p . 1

7;rd ..l

.

170

ciently alive to the issues at the time, I did not collect a great deal f material of this kind. However, the Tolai traditionally enjoyed a ric~ oral literature, a good deal of ¥~'hich has been collected by ~·Ieier (1909) and Kleintitschen (1924). One myth recorded by !v1eier, and cited by R6heim (1923, p. 399), is of particular interest because it relates to the origins of tambu. It tells of a small boy \Vho once asked his parents for food. They replied: ~ . Go and eat your O\\'n excren1ent and that of the other children \\l'ith \\'hom you play.,, Deeply offended, the child left. He took off on a journey carried on the back of a talking tree-trunk. At length they came to a foreign land where a hen was hopping on the beach. The hen asked the tree-trunk ~·here the boy came from, to y,rhich the trunk replied that he hankered for the ejecta ( ausu1urj) of the sea in Nakanai. ·rhen, \\'ith thirty baskets filled with shell-money, they returned to the boy's home. The death platform and sacrifice had already been prepared. The huge expenditure of shell-money had impoverished the parents~ but the lad was able to repay them and became rich. Since then, it is said, ""\\'e all yearn for the ejecta of the sea at I\akanai ,,. Our task, hoY.'ever, is not simply to establish a particular syn1bolic identification, but to understand it. Following psychoanalytic theory~ ~·here behaviour in regard to money sho'h'S strong emotional overtones it usually suggests that money has come to serve as a private copra-symbol, pointing in turn to the likelihood of contradictory attitudes in regard to the act of defecation. The theory indeed indicates a number of sources of conHict surrounding the act. ,.Jnere is~ in the flrst place, the problem of balancing the pleasure of retention as against the pleasure of elimination. Linked with this is the effort to retain control over the act as against requirements to yield demanded endogenously or from the outside. Control here is associated \\'ith the development of the sphincters, as well as the general muscle system, giving the child, as Erikson (1963, p. 82) puts it~ greater power over the environment in the ability to reach out and hold on, to thro\\' a\\·ay and to push a'A·ay, to appropriate things and to keep them at a distance. lbere is, then, in the act of defecation a sense of achievement, a form of gratification that reinforces the child's narcissism, his pride in his own povvers. By the same token, it is this very sense of achievement that is likely to bring the child into conflict \Vith his environment - interference is apt to be met by fierce resentment, if not violent rage. 'rhus the act of defecation becomes the focus of a struggle for

f)·

f.4~\1 B .

THE SHELL-~lONEY OF THE TOL~I

171

ushering in the stage of anal sadism. Faeces~ the product of • no~· become an expressaon o f power, w h'1c h may b e used prot the ac ' tively or destructively; displaced on to copro-symbols, these may due · Iy or serve as Instruments · · aggresbe manipulate d creative o f hostlle atJtOO

51·n \.

001 y,

number of the best-known discussions of anal erotism in the s~rchoanalytic literature (for example, Freud, 1908; Jones, 1918; ~braham, 1921; Nlenninger, 1943) have taken as their central theme ~he importance of tthe anal zone for character formation. l\lthough my o\vn concern here is not with delineating the dimensions of Tolai personality- a task in any case it \\'ould be absurd to undertake by focusing simply on one stage of libidinal development- it may nevertheless be instructive to follow up a fe\v of these leads. It \vas Freud "'·ho first dre\v attention to the regular combination of a number or character traits displayed by many of his patients, all of which appeared to belon.g together and to be linked to anal erotism: the analysands v..·ere especially orderly, parsimonious and obstinate. In considering this now· classical triad of traits in the Tolai context, it is convenient to begin '"vith parsimony~ a caution in the use of one's products or possessions that readily shades over into miserliness. i\.mong the Tolai, as we have seen, the retentive impulse is especially marked. '""No man is held in greater contempt than a spendthrift ... '' u'fo let money go for nothing in return or to pay a shell more than is necessary for an article is considered the height of folly.~' (Danks, 1887~ pp. 315, 308.) F. ven today there are still many individuals who maintain special houses or rooms where their accumulated \Vealth in shell-money is stored; to be invited to inspect the "vealth, usually a matter to be kept secret, counts as a great privilege; to enter the pat na liUl!uvung is to be reminded of the treasure-house of ~~Iidas. . A tendency tO\'\'ards miserliness is said to be essentially characterIstic of the aged. I "'·as present at the hearing on l\'latupit of one very bitter and protracted dispute bet\veen an old-crone and her grown-up grandchildren. 'Ibe dispute erupted because, the latter clain1ed~ they ha.d been ~'driven away'~ by their grandmother \'\'ho had spoken hctrsh t~Ings of their deceased parents, and was clearly un\'\'illing to contribute shell-money for the -~purchase'' of brides for her grandsons. l\fter the hearing~ \'\'hich was brought to an inconclusive halt by an outburst of hysterical sobbing throughout the audience~ one man explained to me that everyone kne\\' the grandmother as an angry old

172

'A'Oman w·ho \\'as always scolding those who 'A'ent near her coconut trees. Another added that she 'A'as a tamuk or a lagodo~ a graspin greedy woman who, as she approached death, was anxious to keep a~ her tambu to herself. This is an extreme case, but it helps to illustrate how fine can be the line that separates parsimony, which is socially approved, from stingi .. ness, ~·hich is socially condemned. The Tolai resolve this potential source of conflict by allo~·ing the retentive impulse full play, but insisting at the same time that at some point it should be matched by an act of gi\'ing. As Salisbury ( 1970, p. 279) remarks of the process of making shell-money up into a coil - an act \vhich removes it from circulation -it implies a promise that the coiler \\'ill eventually freelv donate his tambu to all and sundry. In psychological terms ""·hat thi~ means is that the primary injury to narcissism suffered by having to yield one's faeces is compensated for by expressions of approval accorded to the act of giving: one gives as an act of love and in return for love. In sociological terms~ too, social approbation is given in fullest measure to him that gives most lavishly; giving, indeed, is the act around which the \\'hole social system revolves. That both psychological and sociological processes are equally involved, that they reinforce one another, and that they have to be taken equally into account is, I believe, shown very clearly in the culturally defined attitude to~·ards niggardliness. Tolai values in this regard have been well stated by Brown (1910, p. 252): Xiggardliness, especially with regard to food, is ah-..·ays wrong. i\ man of good conduct must make plenty of feasts; he must buy dances both for his own benefit and for the pleasure of the people; he must be loving to his friends; he must look v.'ell after his children, and he must be a good fighter. A bad man is a stingy man, one \\:ho tai\es no interest in his children, is quarrelsome, one who speaks evil of others, and one "''ho kills another without cause.

No~· "'hat is of particular interest here is the fate of the niggardly in the afterlife. In general, ideas about conditions in the 1\bode of the Dead are extremely hazy, save in one notable regard- the treatn1cnt of the niggardly. Bro\vn (1910, p. 195) comments: "So far as I could gather, the punishment for this \vas the only kind of \vhich they seemed definitely assured.~' l'iggardly people had their ears tillc~ with filth, and their buttocks \\'ere dashed against the buttress roots ot a chestnut tree. In another context Brown ( 1910, p. 399) expresses

TAi\/BL': THE SHELL-t\.10NE'\:' OF THE T'OLAI

173

uzzlement ~·hy the buttocks are selected as the most suitable part for punishment. I do not know what S}'mbolic significance attaches to the ~hestnut tree; 1 nor can one be certain that the symbolism of afflicting the buttocks has not been overdetermined. Nevertheless, in terms of the preceding analysis, one meaning that can be reasonably inferred seems fairly patent: in his mortal life the victim had refused to part ,,.,1th his faeces (his possessions); no~·, to adopt the common vulgarism, they were beating the shit out of him. 2 1\ second set of•traits \\'hich derive by way of a reaction-formation from anal erotism relates to orderliness and cleanliness. Early obser\l·ers on the Gazelle Peninsula were struck by these characteristics, all the more so perhaps because in so many other respects the l"olai appeared so irredeemably savage. \lillages ~·ere made up of clusters of tiny fenced-off hamlets, each occupied by a small domestic group. Bro\vn ( 1910, pp. 23-24) remarks that the interior of these compounds was kept scrupulously clean~ ~·hile outside evidence of taste and appreciation of the beautiful \Vas revealed in the planting of dracaenas, cratons, and coleus plants of the brightest colours. Similarly, according to Po\\'ell (1883, p. 252), the strictest sanitary laws prevailed, all offal being removed by the \vomen and either thro~·n into the sea or, if in the bush~ buried some distance away. \' et it is clear that behind this behaviour there also lav considerations that have little in common w·ith modern notions of hygiene. I refer here to the concept of puta, ejecta; excreta, nail clippings, the shell of an areca nut which one has thro~·n a\vay and so on, should they fall into the hands of another, immediately leave one open to attack by sorcery. Sorcery, however, is not simply an expression of individual malevo~

1

Danks 0 909, p. 454; has recorded sin1ilar ideas, but he specifies the tree as a banyan I !l ,g£rw). This tree, unlike the chestnut, is ven· rich in syrnbolic associatiOns. In particular~ it is regarded with great fear as a source of illness ~nd death. The afHi('ling of the but:ocks is also referred to by Parkinson (1907, p. 79).

I~ ddily life the observer is likely to gain the impression that 'I olai are rather indulgent ol' rheir children and that they do not impose strict discipJinc. This in1pression was contirnaed at a nun1bcr of village n1eetings on ~-latupit when the qucSition of upbringing of children was dis~ussed; on these occasions \'arious s~akcrs referred to the need for firmer ~.r .. ~· e~presston ot the1r feeh~~s!. a~d one often cam~ upon thcm.a~ the garde~s o~ 111 th~ bus~f -dgJ:: dtng tears for the dead. · S1mtlarly, wh~n I pa_1d a return \'lslt to. Matuplt alter a l&tp~~ s, ~.:;-ts no\-\o ~~ablc t~ win the suppo11 ~f ~is kinsm~-~ 1n ~cquiring anot~1cr bride. AXd~"~l-~h:· ·~t ~:.~ s~dtsm.' Re~a~dless of the rallollii~Izauons giVen Jur tne nllarder of a bdl.>)', we ~ec hc.:r~.;) ,e th::> uon ot Ap~cnean pare~t~l arrtbivalent.C toward thelr yo~n~ ~nd perh.aps. S'.J~~\~r •.. r. .:) [hl' Ra~covskys ~ JCJ7_U) YER L. BRYCE. ( 1975 ). The n1an vvho turned into a \Vater n1onster: a psychoanalytic co~trib~tion to folklore. The }Jry·choana~}'tic Stud_y (~/ SfJ(l~''-~·, 6, 100-133.

sTONE A&.s -~ s~. ~1HOL IN .~PACHE FOLKLORE

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B(J\{ER~ L. BRYCE ( 1977 ). ~1 ythology ~ folklore and psychoanalysis. In

International Enc)clopedia of PjychialT)', Ps)cholog__v, Pry'chiJanalyriJ and }{euro!og)' (Ed. Benjamin B. \\'olman), vol. l 7, pp. 423-429. A~esculapius Publishers Inc. and \ian Nostrand Reinhold Co., :\lew York. B(>\'ER, L. BRYCE (in press). C'hildhood and Folklort: A P\ychoanai_ytit; Stud>; (~l .4pache Persona/it)'. Library of Psychological A~nthropology, New· \'rork. B<JYER, L. BRYCE and 8C)YER, RLTH f\11. (1972). Effects of acculturation on the vicissitudes of the aggressive drive among the .1\pachcs of the ~1es­ calero lndiap Reservation. The Psychoanalytic Sttidy of Socttiy, 5, 40-~2. B<JYER, L. BRYCE and BYER, RLTH ~1. ( 1976 ). Prolonged adolescence and early identification: a cross-cultural study. The J~)~yl'hoanalJLi( SUJ(~Y of Society, i, 95-106. 8(fy-ER, L. BRYCE and BoYER, RUTII !vl. (1977). Understanding the individual through folklore. ('unlernporaT)' P5_)'choana()'ils, 13, 30-.J l. Bhat nH.;;s~ :,ave happened. I hey gave the alarm, and the others came back. Ten men set on in pursuit and eventually overtook ~lutjingga crawling alon~ a river bed. ,\left-handed r. 1an speared her through the legs and a right-handed man broke her nePHY, BRl(iiD (1964). 1\lojet·ts to be disting:..~ishcd from their rnentaJ representations and makes possible menlol)·, en1otional experience, thc distinction between unconscious and conscious: and the po~sibili1y or drean1ing, so th'tt rllatur· ation also beconH:s possible. The proc~s uf syrnboliza1ion is an attribute of alpha-function. !

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contact \Vith the alpha-function of his mother and her capacitv fo \\'hat Bion calls ... reverie'' (1962b, pp. 36-37).1 · r The earliest phantasies are about bodies and represent in5tinetual aims to\\-·ards objects, serving from the beginning as a defence against tension and anxiety. ,\s phantasies of intr~jection and projection appear very early in mental life, \\'e have an important reason \\-·hv body language, and ... gut" responses in particular, figure so prorni·nently in language expressing emotion in all peoples. Symbol ~rhe

(;reek symbolon, from s;•mbalein, to put together, means each of t\vo halves or corresponding pieces of an object~ such as a potsherd, broken into tw·o fragments which could be rejoined for the purpose of recognition or identification in the manner of an "indenture~~ (a document in duplicate torn, or "indented", for the same reason). The derivation of "symbol" indicates its essential feature: that it comprises tw·o parts ""·hich, though separate, belong together in some significant respect and may be recognized as belonging together. Freud's early analysis of symbol is to be found in Proje~·t ~for a Scientific Ps_vchology (1950 [1895], pp. 348-349). Before the analysis, A is an excessively intense idea, which forces its Yt.'ay into consciousness too often, and each time gives rise to Vw·eeping. The subject does nul know why he \\,.eeps at A; he regards it as absurd but cannot prevent it. l\ftcr the analysis, it has been discovered that there is an idea B, \\'hich justifiably gives rise to weeping ... The effect of B is not absurd; it is intelligible to the subject and can even be combated by him. B stands in a particular relation to A. For there has been an occurrence of H-A. A was an incidental circumstance; B was appropriate for producing the lasting effect ... it is as though A had stepped into B's place. A has become a suhstilutc, a J)mboi for B.

The formative relationship here adduced by Freud is one of sin1ple association or contiguity: a there has been an occurrence of B+.4 ,,_ It is difticult to be sure that one has fully understood Bion, but it seems that if the infan: is ex· tren1ely ag~ressi\'e, greedy or unable to accept frustration, or- and it amounts dynamic~liy 10 the same thing - if the mother is unable to ret.:eivc the •·p~jectiuns" oi the infant and redu~e them to a tolerable form~ there is likely to be a failure of alpha-function and only beta-function•~ possible. Beta-elements cannot l>c converted to alpha-clements and can be dealt ~·ith onl_}: by expuhion or projection, that is, by resort to Hight i:t'J-(i-vif frustration rather than by a n1od~f.1C~~· tion of the frustration or the kind \\'hich would result from the operation of alpha-function. ~- .. ~ght here means a massi"e use of the mc.-chanisms of splitting, repression and denial; whilst rnodlflcat ion means replacin~ the lost object in thought without at the same time denyin~ its ab;;;cnu~·- (..:\ useful discussion, in French, of Bion 's ideas is to be found in Luzes, 1()6CJ, p. 798 IT.). 1

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1,he relationship of the symbol, . 4~ to the thing symbolized, B~ may be formed other\vise than by association or contiguity: it may resen1blc it, it may be part of it, or it may stand in relation to it as opposite, and 50 on. Freup emphasized the tertium comparationiJ, the feature cumn1on to both A and B, \\'hich links A to Band causes A to arise in place of B. In this account of the formation of an hysterical symptom or idea, the symbol is personal and fortuitous, that is, idiosyncratic. In his study of dream symbolism Freud recognized also symbols \vhich were sufficiently constant, and common, to be regarded as "'stable translations'' permitting interpretation of the dream, or at least or parts of it, u'ithout questioning the dreamer (Freud, 1916, p. 151). 'l'hat is, symbols may also be general rather than personal and not fortuitous but, ha\·ing constant features~ may be presumed to arise from a predisposition of the mind or from the fact that minds and bodies are what they are and function as they do. Dra\ving attention to the fact that in some cases the elen1ent common to the symbol and to ""·hat it represents, the terliurn cornfJaralionis, is obvious whilst in others it is concealed, Freud suggested a genetic relationship: Things that are symbolically connected to-day were probably united in prehistoric times by conceptual and linguistic identity. 'Inc symbolic relation seems to be a relic and a mark of former identity. [Freud. 1900, p. 352.)

·rhe nature of this former identity is suggested in the sections of this paper dealing with phantasy and symbolic behaviour but~ for the moment, it is sufficient to note that symbols n1ay be idiosyncratic a11d specific, or general and more ""'idely available but that, in both cases, we are dealing "'·ith symbols in the more restricted sense of the term, that used by Sandor I 4'erenczi, one of the earliest psychoanalytic writers on svmbolism. '

. Only such things (or ideas) are symbols in the sense of ps~rho-anal~sis as are Invested in consciousness ¥:ith a logically inexplicable and unfounded affect, and of which it may be analytically established that they owe this affective O\'er-enlphasis to U'lc()rucious identification \\-·ith another thing (or idea), to \\'hich the surplus of affet:t really belon.gs. Not all similes. therefore. ar~ symbols, but only t.hose in \)~ P· 1~), and, ..... le problcnlC du symbo)e s ~est l!gale a celui meme du langage. 11 n 'y a pas de symbolique avant l 'honunc qui parte ... ,. (1965. p. 25 ). It would ~eem likely, however~ rhat n1an acquired both syn1bolisn1 and the capacity to speak, to use language, in the process of becoming human: both arc fundamental human characteristics and humanity i~ not conce1vable without them. If anythin~. it would appear that language depends upon a capacity for symbolizing. Ri(:oeur lin1its the con~pt ·~-symbol" to the acl of interpreting: u • • • je propose de delimiter lc champ d'application du concept de symbole par rer~rence a l 'acte d 'interpretation. Je dirai qu 'il ~· a symbole Ia l 'expression linguistique se prete par son double sens ou ses sens multiples a un travail d 'interpretation.'' (1965, p. 26.) Important thou~h the act of interpretation is, and it is, of course, central to the psychoanalytic process, interpretation is a logical construction and symbolization cannot be def1ned only in reference to it. To follow Ricoeur would be to remain on the secondary process le\•el and to fail to penetrate to the roots of symbol formation.

ou

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activity and does not occur in conscious thinking" ( 1968, p. 4 7 , Rycroft's objection to the idea that symbolism is confined to unco,~~ scious mental activity may be accepted without thereby denying that symbolization is typical of primary process thinking. Primary process should not be equated \\'ith unconscious mental activity, nor is secon .. dary process to be treated as co-extensive \\'ith conscious nlental activity. There is considerable overlap, but they are in a·ny case differ .. ing categories. Lfnconscious mental activity differs qualitatively from conscious mental activity in regard to accessibility to consciousness. primary process differs from secondary process in regard to certain features, such as mobility of cathexes, distortion (or absence) of time and space, absence of negation, omnipotence of thought and \'\'ishfulfilling fantasies, y,rhich are distortions of reality and are not cornpatible with reality-oriented, secondary process thinking. It is not, of course, contended that symbolization does not occur in conscious thinking: w·hat is suggested is that both symbolization and the mechanisms of y,·hich it is the consequence, displacement, condensation, representation of whole by part, etc., are characteristic of primary process thinking. However, once formed, symbols may be rapidly converted to secondary process use and may, indeed, fit their ne\\' use so \\#·ell as to appear expressly formed for just such purpose. Symbols may also be invented and used by the secondary process, as are the symbols of mathematics and logic. \'\'hen these are arbitrarily allotted representations they may be called ... signs" to distin~uish them from symbols (cf. Langer, 1942). The latter~ in the psychoanalytic sense, require to have an affective significance, or cathexis. Things \\'hich were, in origin, symbols may be converted into signs by having their affective, that is, symbolic~ significance \\'ithdravvn in the course of being taken over by the secondary process. They become decathected, or in Hartmann's term, '"neutralized~, and the reverse n1ay occur: things which in themselves "'·ere neutral may have speciaL or symbolic, significance attached to them, a process \vhich n1ay be observed to occur "'·hen words appear in dreams, or in schizophrenia vvhen words are used in a private and idiosyncratic \\'ay. The dream and its apprehension and recall is an exantplc of ""'"hat happens at the interface betv~'een primary and secondary proce~s. Dreams are largely, if not entirely, primary process in formation and are experienced directly in pictorial form, though sensory n1odalities other than visual may be represented; in schizophrenia prin1ary pro .. t

279

cess type thinking may be apprehended consciously and directly, a fact \Vhich in part accounts for both the anxiety to be seen in the early stages of the condition and the characteristic disturbance of reality testing .. \'\7hen dreams are translated into \\'ords for the purpose of recall, review and revision, secondary process comes into play. ~~nother example of the relationship bet"'·een the t\VO kinds of thinking may be seen in a story told of the discovery of the benzene ring by the chemist~ Kekule. Seated on the top deck of a London bus and tired from his day's \\'Ork, Kekule 's reveries corresponded to the \-vellkno\vn fantasy of snakes chasing, or S\\'allowing, their tails (the uroborus) \Vith primary process qualities, but in this instance it was grasped by Kekule and applied to the problem occupying his mind at the time, \-vith dramatic results.• In a similar \\'ay~ through the mechanism of sublimation, primary process . "play" becomes secondary process '"work~:. In so far as secondary process thinking is in tern1s of "'·ords and other symbols, it is limited, and distorted~ by the symbols available to~ and used by~ the thinker. It may be similarly limited and distorted by primary process formations \vhich act in a facilitating or inhibiting manner, the result of pleasure or anxiety operating at a deeper and unconscious level. Secondary process thinking may be seen as operating bet\veen the t\\'·in poles of "'·hat is allo\ved~ or required, by the (unconscious) primary process, and w·hat is allowed, or required, by reality. Language occupies an important and central place in the study of symbolism. 2 (;rammar and semantics arc concerned \vith the \\'·ays in which language serves the purposes of logical, secondary process thinking, y;hilst the language of mathematics and logic is entirely designed for this purpose, but another aspect of language closer to the symbolic function typical of primary process thinking is its use in expressing feeling and emotion, as in poetry and other literature. In evocative language, the mechanisms by means of \Vhich symbols are formed, resemblance, part for \vhole~ and temporal and spatial association, etc., characteristic of primary process, are repeated in the 1

Apparent.y Kekulc \\'as in London prior to lbSo, \'\'hereas his brilliant C.iscovery wc.ts n1arle in lb65. Hut even if the story is apocryphal~ the point remains.

l\ contrastin~ view is th~tt of Jacques I.acan, who treats the unconscious a~ being itself strutLured, its st1·ucture ~ein.g that o: lan~udge (_c.f. Laplanche and Puntalis, l97L p. 474. "Synlboliguc''; Stt:iner, :976, p. 2.15). 2

280

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corresponding figures of speech, simile and metaphor, synecdoche and metonymy. Of the many uses of the concept, symbol, to be discovered in the psychoanalytic literature, the tvvo aspects highlighted here are, firstly, the earlier and more restricted use ~vhich limits symbols to particular elements embedded in fantasies and dreams- or in myth and ritual: and the later, more extended view, \\'hich y,rould see not only ~~th~ vvhole form assumed by dreams'', or myths, as symbolic but \vould treat all complex patterns of behaviour, and even the apprehension of reality itself, as involving symbolization. Both viey..·s are explicit in Ernest Jones's classical paper, ~;.The rl'heory of Symbolism" ( 1916 ), in which he emphasizes that in psychoanalytic usage the symbol itself is conscious but represents, and so allovvs for limited discharge of, \vhat is unconscious and must remain repressed, but he also sa~v that synlbolism makes possible the apprehension and extension of the individual's ~'outer \\'orld ''.

Symbolic behaviour

lbe productions of a civilization- literature, music, graphic and constructional art, as well as the m\1hs and rituals of both civilized and primitive people - may seem a long way removed from the child's first frustrations and experience of loss. 1 Susan Isaacs pointed out the connection between frustration and achievement: •

I

Disappointment may be the first stimulus to adaptative acceptance of reality~ but the postponement of satisfaction and the suspense involved in the complicated learning and thinking about external reality which the child presently accomplishes- and for increasingly remote ends- can only be endured and sustained when it itself scttisfies instinctual urges, represented in phantasies, as \\'·ell. [1948, p. 94. :.

i\nna Freud sho~vs ho\\' play can express instinctual urges: The dismantling or toys because or the wish to kno\V V\'hat is lrHidr bctrctys sex·Jal curiosity. It is e\'en significant in y;hich manner a small boy plays with his railvvay: ln the Kleinian view, symbol formation is the outt.:on\e of loss, not only in the ··oepr~ssivr pos•·. tion ''when symbol rormarion is~ .... a creative work, involving the pain and rhe whole work ot mourning:', but more generally, ~·e\·ery aspect of the o~jec.L every situation 7hat ha~ to be ~i~'rn up in the process of ~row1ng, gives rise to symbol formation'' ,~Segal, 1973. p. 76_). The syrnb(•l 1

preserves the lost object.

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281

whether his main pleasure is derived-trorrn,Tctging-crastrc:s (as syrnbols of parental intercourse); whether he is predonlinantly concerned with building ~unnel~ and underground lines (expressing interest in the inside of the body); whrther his cars and buses have to be loaded heavily {as symbols of the pregnant mother~; or \·vhet ~ 1 er speed anti smooth performance arc his main concern (as syn1bols~~-efficiency). ~ 1965, pp. 19-20. J

In a similar w·ay, Anna 1-·reud goes on to sho\\' how a little girl's horse craze reveals her emotional needs. Benassy and Diatkine see in play a bridge betY-'een phantasy and reality and point to a reciprocal relationship bet\veen the t\\-·o: ... because [play! is rnanifest beha,.·iour t:onnected \ovith latent fantas~, and we can proceed frorn one to the other. Fantasy could be described as interiorized play and fantasy can itselfbeexteriorized in overt activity, play. [1964, p. 175.J

The same may be said of artistic production and aesthetic experience, play "'·ith shapes, forms, colours and sounds, commonly in a traditional or stylized manner, but nonetheless stimulating and gratifying internal phantasy. Artistic production links phantasy and reality and offers a suitable medium for the operation of the psychological mechanisms of projection, projective identification~ re-introjection andre-projection~ as \veil as others such as condensation, often in multiple determination.,\ single feature n1ay be this as w·ell as that: not this or that only, but both at the same time. ,\nthony Forge brings out \\'ell this multiple function in Sepik art: It seems to me that ..'\l>elan1 Hat painting is a systenl in which a limited nun1bcr of motifs, some. themselves sirnple graphic elen1ents, most with sr~-Tat---zrlternativc nae,tnings~ are combined and arranged in harmonious designs, ancestrally sanctioned, and

believed to be intrinsically po\~erful. The total design n1ay or may not have a name or "'represent something" in our terms, \-\·hat i~ important is th