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Greek drama and the African world: A study of three African dramas in the light of Greek antecedents

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Greek drama and the African world: A study of three African dramas in the light of Greek antecedents

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Content GREEK D R A M A A N D THE AFRICAN W ORLD:
A STUDY OF THREE AFRICAN D RA M A S IN
THE LIGHT OF GREEK ANTECEDENTS
by
Maurice Law Costello
A D issertation Presented to the
FACULTY OF THE GRADUATE SCHOOL
UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
In Partial Fulfillm ent of the
Requirements fo r the Degree
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
(Comparative L iterature)
January 1981
UMI Number: DP22542
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UNIVERSITY O F S O U T H E R N CA LIFORNIA
THE GRADUATE SCH O O L
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LOS A N G ELES. CALI FO R N IA 9 0 0 0 7
L _ O
This dissertation, written by
Maurice Law Costello
under the direction of M s ~ ~ . Dissertation C om
mittee, and approved by all its members, has
been presented to and accepted by The Graduate
School, in partial fulfillment of requirements of
the degree of
D O C T O R O F P H I L O S O P H Y
Dean
DISSERTATION COMMI
DEDICATION
Kimeweka wakf ya
Mke yangu, Barbara,
Aliyevumilia upuzi hi i .
Turnshukuru Mungu.
ii
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Page
DEDICATION.............................................................................................. ii
INTRODUCTION ....................... 1
Chapter
I. EDUFA A N D ALCESTIS: SYSTEMATIC AFFILIATIONS
A N D VARIATIONS IN STRUCTURE OF M EANING . . . . 22
II. SONG OF A GOAT: IJAW TRADITION A N D THE
HELLENIC/SYMPHONIC EQUATION , . ............................ 64
I I I . THE BACCHAE OF EURIPIDES: A STUDY OF W O LE
SOYINKA'S ADAPTATION AS CO M M U N IO N RITE A N D
AETIOLOGICAL D R A M A .......................................................... 146
IV. CONCLUSION..................................................... 226
SELECT BIBLIOGRAPHY ........................................................................ 247
i i i
INTRODUCTION
Twenty years ago Arthur M illerxfamously ,said th a t the British
th eatre is hermetically sealed o ff from l i f e . M ille r's remark may
have verbalized his personal pique of the moment and whether i t is
s t i l l largely true is a moot point. What is in te re stin g about his
remark, however, is th a t i t underscores the principle th at drama must
"hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature"; i t must be a "direct and
sig n ific a n t im itation of human l i f e and action" in a ll i t s ramifica-
1
tions.
What M iller said about the B ritish th eatre could conceivably
be said of the c ritic ism of African drama today with th is extension:
not only is i t hermetically sealed off from l i f e * i t is also
hermetically sealed o ff from th eatre. Much of i t has appeared in
scholarly journals and collections of essays over the past two decades,
an atmosphere of academic primness in which a u th o ritie s are cited
in support of an opinion without regard to th e ir appropriateness
and with a fa ith in th e ir cultural status th at gives one pause. The
majority of the p ractitio n ers of th is a rt have not themselves been,.
Africans, but Europeans and Americans "trying to cope with world
2
views d iffe re n t from th e ir own." The re s u lt of th e ir sincere effo rts
1
a t analysis and evaluation is often a worrisome m isalliance of African
matter and form with Western a esth etic c r i t e r i a . As they try to swim
in non-European cross cu rren ts, they often succumb under the sheer
weight of those tools which supply th e ir reference for judgment.
For the lite r a r y c r i t i c per se, T. S. E lio t's conception of
tra d itio n " s t i l l exercises a great and continuing influence over the
3
study of lite ra tu r e " and the study of drama as lite r a tu r e . I t does
not, however, as E liot did not, take into consideration the fact th a t
the European mind is lin g u is tic a lly and c u ltu ra lly conditioned to
examine and in te rp re t i t s own tra d itio n and to derive aesth etic
principles from th at tra d itio n and from those individual ta le n ts
whereby i t judges it s own a r t forms. And, by and large, the system
works because the cultural foundations th a t provide a continuity of
a ttitu d e and a reference for judgment are self-contained. Or, to
borrow from Hegel, "the organic individual produces himself, i t makes
4
of i t s e l f what i t is im p lic itly ." But in the matter of African drama,
the wise saws and modern instances of Western c r i ti c s may no longer
serve as adequate tools for e ith e r analysis or judgment, th is fact
was recognized by Martin Esslin as early as 1967. Asked to review the
f i r s t publication of the plays of Wole Soyinka and J. P. Clark he said
th a t to "submit them, like organisms in a laboratory, to a survival
t e s t in vacuo" was hardly possible.
. . . drama deals with the basic human emotions and
predicaments in a social context, both in the in te r
action of several characters on the stage, and in the
even more important interactio n between the stage and
the audience. The basic human emotions are s t i l l
2
involved as in poetry, but they are expressed through
social conventions which may be to ta lly d iffe re n t
from one society to a n o t h e r .5
E sslin 's in itia l uneasiness echoes Chinua Achebe's caveat about
commenting on those sen sitiv e areas of African lit e r a t u r e which are
accessible only to those within a society who have grown up learning
what Lindfors c a lls "the passwords." "No man," Achebe has said, "can
understand another whose language he does not speak." And by
"language" Achebe means not simply words but the deep structures
underlying the African w r ite r 's semantic universe, his e n tire world
C
view. This problem is fu rth er compounded by non-Western authors like
John Pepper Clark who in terp o late Western dramatic forms/themes into
th e ir own cultures (the prohibition of in cest, for example, is one of
these themes).
The process is not merely an a r t i s t i c in te rp o la tio n , but a
natural re fle c tio n of the irruption of Western (c u ltu ra l) forms into
the dram atist's experience. The reverse process also presents manifold
d if f i c u l t i e s : African playwrights who se le c t a p a rtic u la r Western
drama as vehicle in order to in te rp re t th e ir own culture to Western
man. Aside from the universal handicap all tra n slated drama labors
under, other considerations are immediately evident. What, for
instance, did the African author see in the Western dram atist th at
sparked his in te re st--a c ro ss time, language and culture? Both may
have had d iffe re n t ideas about the same concept ( e .g ., the burial of
the dead): the African playwright as re a d e r/in te rp re te r from a non-
Western cu ltu re , the original author as thematic in terp reter/ex p lo rer
fo r his own time and culture.
3
This problem .is not the same as the "idealized derivations of
Greek principles" one finds in Racine's Berenice or in the forged
ideological b a ttle s of Giradoux's Electre and Anouilh's Antigone.
The African playwrights' in te re s ts a re , more often than not, socio
cultural rath er than i d e a lis tic or ideological. They are trying to
a r tic u la te through th e ir dramatic a r t "the a f f i n i t i e s th at 'could'
e x ist between our aesth etic responses to a r t i s t i c forms which are
c u ltu ra lly d iffe re n tia te d from each o th e r." 7 This is not to say they
are opting for a sim p listic , transcendental "universality" of theme
8
"accessible to the maximum number of d iffe re n t s o c ie tie s ." Rather,
they are endeavoring to "illum inate cultural differences without
minimizing those areas in which d iffe re n t cultures may p a r a lle l,
g
approximate, even touch each other."
These considerations ra ise important aesth etic issues and
underscore the need for a comparative methodology to deal with them—
issues about the nature of tragedy and them atically defined stru c tu re s,
the role of the English language in the expression of non-Western
metaphysical concepts, and the function of myth and ritu a l in convey
ing a p a rtic u la r manifestation of the tra g ic rhythm of l i f e .
^ The present study, then, will explore these problems by
examining the work of three African dram atists, all of whom have used
a f i f t h century Greek play—or a combination of Greek pi ays--as th e ir
source. I have selected three d iffe re n t but representative plays
which have had the benefit of re a liz a tio n before both European and
African audiences: Efua T. Sutherland's Edufa, J. P. Clark's Song of a
4
Goat, and Wole Soyinka's "adaptation" of The Bacchae of Euripides.
These three plays were a ll w ritten in English and are examples of
African dramas which rework, in a tra d itio n a l African s e ttin g , the
trag ic themes found in Euripides' own A lc e s tis s , his Hippolytus, and
his Bacchae. Euripides was trying to do something more, or something
d iffe re n t from what his contemporaries were doing, but yet with an
implication of social s a tir e where there is a mixture of the dramatist's
perception of the nature of th eatre and i t s relatio n sh ip to society.
These African playwrights inherited the them atic/structural implica
tions of Euripides' plays and fused them with th e ir own compositional
theories of what Sutherland labels "new discovery."
Edufa, the f i r s t play I have chosen to examine, is based on
Euripides' A lc e s tis . I t was i n i t i a l l y produced in Accra in 1964 by
the Ghana Drama Studio, an experimental th eatre group founded some
years e a r lie r by Sutherland. In Edufa Sutherland departed rad ically
from her usual source material in th a t she used a Greek drama to
explore indigenous Ghanaian themes and methods of presentation.
Sutherland's two other major plays—Foriwa (1967) and The Marriage of
Anasewa (1974)--are products of her experiments a t blending t r a d i
tional African methods of s to ry -te llin g and drama. In addition to her
three major plays, Sutherland has w ritten several plays for children:
some based on the tra d itio n a l Ananse folk ta le s ( e .g ., Anasegoro: You
Swore an Oath), and one an African version of Alice in Wonderland.
She has also w ritten two unpublished plays based on European m aterials:
Odasani--a version of Everyman--and an adaptation of Checkov's The
Proposal.
Aside from her own experiments in dramatic form, Sutherland
has been in flu e n tia l in the train in g of young Ghanaian dram atists and
actors. The Ghana Drama Studio has become a base for Kusum Agoromba,
a group of touring players whose goal is to reach the common people
and thereby esta b lish the basis for the development of African sty les
of performance and drama. Sutherland's own research in Ghanaian music
th eatre and her monthly "concert parties" are best reflected in The
Marriage of Anansewa (1974), a play which uses tra d itio n a l music and
dance interludes (mboguo) to embellish and guide the action. I t is a
w itty and lighthearted story of a man who attempts to marry his
daughter to several rich ch iefs, a ll a t the same time, in order to
secure g if ts and ra ise money from them. In a manner reminescent of
Volpone's gulled b en eficiaries, all but one of the su ito rs decide to
meet Anansewa for a formal betrothal and i t takes all Ananse's wily
s k ills to resolve the situ a tio n .
Foriwa (1967), Sutherland's second fu ll-le n g th play, seems
designed to break away from Western modes of stage production,
language, and manners and to rein fo rce, in dramatic form, the
umbilical connection between established trib a l custom and contemporary
Ghanaian experience. The play is w ritten to be performed in a s tr e e t
in any one of myriad small Ghanaian towns lik e Kyerefaso, the p lay 's
locale. E ssen tially , Foriwa is a simply moral ta le depicting the
r e v ita liz a tio n of Kyerefaso through the allian ce of Labaran, a young
university-educated stranger from the North, the town's Queen Mother,
and her beautiful daughter, Floriwa. Tribalism, the a llia n c e of
6
young and old, the renewal of tra d itio n a l values in conjunction with
modern experience are but a few of the themes interlaced in th is
drama of social continuity.
I t is in th is context of Sutherland's concern for so c ie ty 's
co llectiv e social experience and i t s cultural tra d itio n s , then, th a t I
intend to examine Edufa. The story lin e and dramatic stru c tu re is
Euripidean; the se ttin g is Ghanaian. The wedding of these two
disparate th e a tric a l strands obviously creates problems quite d i f f e r
ent from those encountered in the r e s t of Sutherland's dramatic
oeuvre—problems in plo t construction, in myth reference, in dramatic
irony, and in characterizatio n . The Heracles ch aracter, in p a rtic u la r,
is problematic since his tra n sla tio n across cultures n ecessitates
dethroning a demi-god, a change which affects the stru ctu re of meaning
of Sutherland's play. I t is one thing to transmute the Admetus-figure,
Edufa, into a s e lfis h member of the Ghanaian nouveau riche and have
the play end in tragedy with the w ife's death. I t is quite another
to a lte r rad ically Heracles' dramatic persona so th at the unravelling
of the plot will seem natural in the cultural context of modern day
Ghana. In th is connection, for instance, the symbolic idea of the
African mask is crucial to the in te rp re ta tio n of Heracles' Ghanaian
fi stage presence. M y examination of the two plays, th erefo re, will
concentrate on Sutherland's a b ility to blend th e a tric a l modes
inherited from the c lassical Western tra d itio n with the tra d itio n s of
Ghanaian folk drama. M y aim is to demonstrate th a t th is kind of
th eatre becomes an exploration of the d ram atist's cultural tra d itio n s
a :
7
in re la tio n to the h isto ric a l tra d itio n out of which her experience
grew.
^ John Pepper Clark has on occasion been described as a
Renaissance man because of the c a th o lic ity of his energies: poet,
e ssa y ist, dram atist, le c tu re r, and civ il servant. Perhaps th is
accounts for the fa c t th a t he has not devoted himself to the th eatre
in the same way th a t e ith e r Efua Sutherland or Wole Soyinka has. By
th is I mean th at while his approach to drama owes as much as th e irs
to his African experience, his in te re s t lie s in the narration of formal
r i t u a l i s t i c acts such as those depicted in Greek tragedy.
Clark has w ritten four major dramatic works: Song of a Goat
(1961), The Masquerade (1964), The Raft (1964), and Ozidi (1966). The
f i r s t three plays can loosely be called a trilo g y since each deals
with an aspect of l i f e important to the Rivers people of the Western
Delta Fringe of the Niger River. O zidi, on the other hand, is based
on the Ijaw saga of Ozidi, which Clark has assembled and adapted in
both Ijaw and English. All four plays are experiments in form. They
reveal the development of Clark’s dramatic thought from an early ,
almost academic dependence on European antecedents (Song of a Goat and
The Masquerade), to an experiment in character revelation (the s e t-
piece descriptions of past experience in The R aft) , and f in a lly to the
looser form required of an epic adaptation (Ozidi). Clark i s , in
fa c t, obsessed with form but form as i t can be u tiliz e d to portray
l i f e as he knows and has observed i t in the riv e rs and creeks in
habited by the Ijaw. Thus, the typical fifth -c e n tu ry Greek concern
8
with the individual p itte d against some in flex ib le law of nature
(incest) or immutable law of society (the burial of the dead) is meta
morphosed dram atically to encompass the communal and metaphysical
aspects of the Ijaw experience.
A case in point is Song of a Goat, the f i r s t play of Clark's
tra g ic trilo g y . The plo t concerns a tra d itio n a l Ijaw family divided
and ultim ately devastated, not by adultery, as several Western c r i ti c s
have claimed, but by the p ro ta g o n ist's in a b ility to accept the t r a d i
tional Ijaw solution to impotence, namely, surrogate p atern ity . The
stru ctu re of the play, however, while providing such obvious touch
stones with Greek tragedy as the "goat song" (trag o id ia ) of the t i t l e
and the neighbors' function as a chorus, is a ctu ally molded on the
European symphonic form: four movements, with thematic variations
expressed through recurring images and lines of dialogue.
Clark's second play, The Masquerade, probes the consequences
of those trib a l transgression depicted in Song of a Goat. Again, the
manifest p a ra lle ls with the perpetual curse placed upon the House of
Atreus by Thyestes are inescapable. Tufa, the deathbed son of
Ebiere's i l l i c i t re latio n sh ip with Tonya in SOng of a Goat, attempts
to marry T i t i , a g irl from another v illag e. Tufa's base h eritage,
unknown even to himself, comes to lig h t when the g i r l ' s fa th e r,
. D irib i, discovers the circumstances of his parentage a t the couple's
' wedding ceremony. Diribi in s is ts th at the marriage remain unconsum
mated, describing to T iti the curse th a t marks her bridegroom, Tufa.
His warning is actu ally a capsule summary of Song of a Goat:
D iribi: . . . Did he t e ll you also his father [TonyS]
Usurped the bed of his elder brother [Z ifa], yes,
Brazenly in his life tim e , and for shame
Of i t a f te r hanged himself in broad daylight
While th is unfortunate abused husband , n
Walked of his own will into the sea? {p. 68)
T iti refuses to give up Tufa and is hunted down and shot by her
enraged fath er. In an attempt to avenge his bride, Tufa is acciden
ta lly k ille d in a fig h t by D iribi. As in Song of a Goat, Clark
employs choruses of neighbors and trib a l p rie sts to comment on the
events of the play. The Masquerade has been c ritic iz e d both for the
"arb itrarin ess" of Tufa's tragedy and for the d iff ic u lty non-Africans
may have in grasping the p lay 's central issu e, th a t i s , "whether i t
is indeed sacrileg e for a young g irl to get married to the son of an
11
adulterous mother."
The t i t l e of Clark's third play, The R aft, is indicative of
the r e s tr ic tio n imposed upon the onstage action. Four men—Olotu,
Kengide, Ogro, Ibobo—are a d r if t in the Niger d elta on a log r a f t over
which they have no c o n tro l. Caught in the treacherous Osikoboro
whirlpool, the r a f t breaks in two, carrying Olotu downstream to an
unknown fa te . The splintered r a f t with i t s three survivors d r if ts
helplessly on. A big steamer passes and one of the men, Ogro, jumps
overboard and swims to the steamer for help. However, he is pushed
away by the sh ip 's crew only to be chopped up by the paddle wheel.
By play5s end the remaining two men are flo a tin g out to sea,
envelloped in a thick fog, and callin g desperately for help.
The predicament of the four men on the r a f t lends i t s e l f
readily to symbolic in te rp re ta tio n . Perhaps, as Adrian Roscoe
10
suggests, i t represents "the predicament of the Nigerian nation,"
12
th a t i s , the four Regions of which Nigeria was composed in 1964.
Or, as Martin Esslin would have i t , the r a f t could be viewed as an
"image of human l i f e and man's dependence on his fellow men and sheer
13
chance." Such symbolic in terp retatio n s are patently moot and should
not be applied too academically.
I t is evident from th is b rie f description of Clark's f i r s t
three plays th a t he is trying to find a dramatic vehicle for his
*
$| a r t i s t i c voice. This is why a clear understanding of Song of a Goat
is so important to a fu ll understanding of Clark's dramatic oeuvre.
While he has stea d ily d rifte d away from his European antecedents,
Clark's concern with form remains constant. O zidi, Clark's l a s t
published play, is an adaptation of a much looser form, the saga, but
one which presents considerable d if f ic u lty on stage. In i t s original
form the dramatization of the saga la sts seven days. As with Clark's
trilo g y , Ozidi involves a family curse, re la te s bloody deeds, and is
circumscribed by the Ijaw concept of fa te . Clark also attempts to
enclose within a normal length play the dance, music and mime used in
te llin g the saga in i t s complete form. All these dramatic elements,
in one form or another, o riginate with Song of a Goat.
Throughout the chapter on Song of a Goat, two concerns pre
dominate: John Pepper Clark's sig n ific a n t indebtedness to Western
modes of dramatic thought in instrumental works--the "sonata form"—
and his reliance on the contour of the Ijaw world as a vehicle for
expressing his vision of human experience. M y hypothesis is th a t
11
Clark has constructed his play, Song of a Goat, around the Western
symphonic form. Within th is framework he has used his indigenous
culture and sources to reexamine several European conceptions, includ
ing the nature of fa te , the hubris m otif, the quiddity of tra g ic
"motivation," and the use of archetypal symbols. This bringing
together of diverse elements from disparate tra d itio n s has dictated my
w riting strateg y , which combines fu ll n arrative exposition and thematic
explication with textual illu s tr a tio n s and analyses as they a rise .
The divisions I indicate within the movements of Song of a
Goat are e n tire ly my own invention, not C lark's. These are derived
from my reading of the play against the symphonic form. In my te x t I
have also included in parentheses some of the Ijaw equivalents for
English words. I have done th is to underscore the fa c t th a t clues to
the in te rp re ta tio n of Clark's play lie in Ijaw words for cultural
concepts, ju s t as A risto telian c r i te r i a are often couched in such
Greek terms as hammartia, p e rip e te ia , and an ag n o risis. Since the
Ijaw speak a variety of d ia le c ts , I have had to hazard an educated
guess as to which d ia le c t lie s beneath the surface stru c tu re of the
English dialogue. I chose the Egbema d ia le c t because (a) i t is widely
understood by Ijaw subgroups along the Western Delta Fringe of the
Niger River, and (b) two names which appear in the t e x t - - Zifa and
Masseur--are traceable to th is d ia le c t, also. Furthermore, the Egbema
are said to be the most jealous of th e ir Ijaw origin and cu ltu re , a
theme Clark mines in the play. F inally, the Egbema t e r r ito r y lie s to
12
the West of the Benin River. Their geographical location has given
r is e to alleg atio n s of Ijaw piracy on the Benin River, a charge to
which the te x t of Clark's play makes im p licit reference.
Wole Soyinka has long been considered one of the great long
distance runners of the Nigerian th e a tre . His poignant and often
s a t i r i c plays have been produced on stage (Ibadan and London) for more
than 20 years. Soyinka's most recent p lay --Death and the King's
Horseman (1975)--is based on events which took place in Oyo, an ancient
Yoruba c ity in Nigeria, in 1946. The mainspring of the plot is the
clash between the Colonial D is tric t O fficer's plan to in te rfe re with
Yoruba law and custom concerning the ritu a l suicide of the King's
Chief Horseman, Elesin Oba. His e ld e st son, Olunde, returns un
expectedly from England to bury his fath er according to Yoruba custom.
The re su lts of his in evitable confrontation with Pi 1 kings, the D is tr ic t
O fficer, are calamitous. The colonial fa c to r, however, is merely a
"ca ta ly tic incident" enabling Soyinka to explore what he c a lls "the
universe of the Yoruba mind—the world of the liv in g , the dead, the
14
unborn, and the numinous passage which links a l l : tra n s itio n ." This
is the key to Soyinka's dramatic oeuvre.
Few dramatists can evoke th is October country more trenchantly
than Wole Soyinka. No playgoer who has seen The Road can ever again
rid e a bus in Africa without v isualizing the play's tw ilig h t world of
lorry driv e rs, passenger touts and floggers of spare parts who lob
comic in su lts a t one another and, a t the same time, worry about the
Word and the meaning of meaning. Audiences who understand The Strong
13
Breed, in which the main character chooses to be the r itu a l c a r rie r of
the sins of his so ciety , will be forced to ponder the problem of evil
and come to grips with the undercurrents of what is facetiously called
"ethnic exclusiveness" (trib alism ) in modern Africa. Indeed warmongers
might do well to skip Madmen and S pecialists (1971) alto g eth er. The
play depicts the monstrous metamorphosis of a once humane medical
doctor who has become Head of Intelligence during the Nigerian civ il
war, "presumably because he knows where to place the electro d es," as
15
one c r i t i c has w ittily remarked. In A Dance of the F o rests, com
missioned for the Nigerian Independence celeb ratio n s, 1960, Soyinka
explores the ram ifications of present day g u ilt by examining the pre
vious incarnations of a woodcarver, a p ro stitu te and a p o litic ia n
("Council Orator"). These living human beings in te ra c t with the gods
and s p ir i t s of the fo re st primeval in a way th a t enables them to see
themselves in a rep rise of past h isto ry , namely, an incident a t the
court of Mata Kharibu eight centuries e a r l i e r . The effectiveness of
the play lie s in i t s representation of "the West African mythic
system in which gods, men, the dead, and the living e x ist in a unified
16r
world.," The play is not unlike i t s Shakespearean precedent,
Midsummer Night's Dream, in i t s interplay between gods and mortals but
with a more somber vision of human experience.
Though he m anifestly prefers to w rite such metaphysical ex
cursions into the Cimmerian aspect of the Yoruba mind, Soyinka is as
entertaining on the sunny side of the s tr e e t as he is in the land of
perpetual tw ilig h t. Two of his plays, for instance, explore the
14
p e rip a te tic lives of the "Bar Beach" prophets of Lagos. In the
h ilarious comedy, The T rials of Brother Jero (1960), a Jonsonian
confidence man attempts to dupe both his pious flock and his simple-
minded d isc ip le , Chume, through the manipulative power of his s e lf-
proclaimed prophetship, the A rticulate Hero of C h rist's Crusade. The
play acutely s a tir iz e s the fly-by-night relig io u s sects which have
sprung up in the coastal c itie s of Nigeria since independence; i t also
exposes the changing values of a society in tra n s itio n . The p lay 's
sequel, Je ro 's Metamorphosis (1973), is a somewhat grimmer comedy
s a tir iz in g the public executions which, un til recently, were staged by
the Nigerian government on Victoria Beach, Lagos. In th is play,
Brother Jero persuades his fellow prophets to organize themselves into
something called the Church of the Apostolic Salvation Army. J e ro 's
alleged purpose is to rid the execution spectacles of " r i f f - r a f f of all
sorts who dupe the c itiz e n ry and make the beach u n attra ctiv e to decent
and respectable people." His real aim is to "acquire the sp iritu a l
monoply of such a captive congregation" and reap the rewards of
"superabundant contracts" in beauty parlours, supermarkets, cafes,
ice-cream kiosks and a host of other en terp rises.* ^ Obviously, both
Jero plays evince the influence of Ben Jonson's d elight in the
disorder of monstrosity.
To mention Ben Jonson is to indicate Soyinka's approach to
playwriting which "combines the popular and indigenous with the
18
lite r a r y and d e riv itiv e , as the Elizabethans le a rn t to do." This
dramatic eclecticism is best exemplified, I think, in Soyinka's
15
adaptation of The Bacchae of Euripides, which comes la te in Soyinka's
dramatic oeuvre. Commissioned from Soyinka by the National Theatre of
Great B ritain , and performed by them in 1973, The Bacchae is a show
case for a ll the th e a tric a l techniques and metaphysical concerns for
which Soyinka is duly respected: lin g u istic v irtu o s ity , the use of
tra d itio n a l b eliefs and imagery, the combination of dance, music, and
action to underpin r i t u a l , the tension between history and tra d itio n ,
the universal s a tir e on power and corruption, and p o litic a l image
building.
The temptation with Soyinka's version of The Bacchae is to
w rite i t o ff as simply another attempt to tra n sla te Euripides' play in
modern terms. This leads to generalizations and conclusions unwarranted
by the tex ts of e ith e r play. I t is my contention in Chapter IV th a t,
a t the risk of r e te llin g the sto ry , Soyinka's play must be examined in
minute d etail v is-a-v is Euripides' original te x t. Only then can, any
c r itic a l judgments be made about i t s q uality as lit e r a t u r e or i t s
effectiveness as th eatre.
Soyinka's Bacchae is a peculiar brew of tra n sla tio n s and
interpolations of Euripides' te x t. Since th is approach affe c ts
in te rp re ta tio n , I have deemed i t best to look closely a t the two texts
simultaneously in order to determine more cle a rly the philosophical
differences th a t may e x ist between the two playwrights and/or the
social significance underlying the surface stru ctu re of each play.
One of the more quirky problems has to do with the differences
in characterizatio n . Pentheus, for instance, in Soyinka's play,
16
manifests himself as a modern major general, mature and sure of
himself, a man in the m ilitary mold. In Euripides he comes off as a
lubricous prude, youthfully ignorant of himself and his nature. The
change is s ig n ific a n t because i t underscores mythical perceptions and
th e a tric a l conventions across time and cultu re. The same may be said
o f Euripides' transmuted T ire sia s, who comes across in Soyinka's play
lik e a flim-flam man, rich in ju ice and joy. Kadmos, his royal .
straight-m an, is lik e a Theban Polonius, his tongue d rip p in o w ise savis^ J
and modern instances. Together they walk the high wire between lig h t
humor and substantive comment, a balancing act th a t borders a t times
on vaudevillian routines. Dionysos himself gyrates more to the music
of Zorbci's santuri than to the pipes of Pan. Yet, in all th is
innovation, Soyinka is curiously fa ith fu l to certain aspects of the
Dionysian myth. Whatever innovations he introduces are there for his
own special purposes, and p a rtic u la rly they give additional complexity
to the role of the god whom he id e n tifie s with the Yoruba deity Ogun,
god of m etals, c r e a tiv ity , the road, wine and war.
Soyinka's play can be divided conveniently into the same
stru c tu ra l segments as Euripedes' drama, though Soyinka himself does
not use the Greek formal divisions (prologue, parados, episodes and
stasimon, exodus, e t c . ) . I will use them, however, to f a c i l i t a t e
cross-reference. Also, when referrin g to the dramatis personae, I
shall use William Arrowsmith's spellings for the Greek names when
citin g passages from Euripides' te x t, and Soyinka's Africanized
spellings when quoting from his adaptation. The ru st on my own
17
acquaintanceship with c lassical Greek is as caked as Soyinka claims
his is. Therefore, I have re lie d on some of the tra n sla tio n s he
favors, plus A. S. Way's verse tra n sla tio n in the Loeb Classical
Library s e rie s . In addition to t h i s , I have occasionally quoted lines
from Geoffrey S. Kirk's tra n sla tio n of The Bacchae where I thought
Euripides' meaning was made c le a re r. In each instance, I have cited
both line and tra n s la to r. As Maynard Mack observes in his Foreward
to Kirk's tra n sla tio n of The Bacchae, "all tra n slatio n s in varying
19
degree must indulge an element of deception." Soyinka's e f f o r t in
th is respect is no d iffe re n t from previous tra n sla to rs. M y aim, then,
in c itin g these textual variatio n s is to get to the heart of both
plays, exposing and explicating th e ir often complex design. M y
expectation is th a t th is method will reveal the unique cro ss-cu ltu ral
syncretism of Soyinka's adaptation.
The r i t u a l i s t i c themes of Euripides' dramas had been formed a t
the center of the culture of his time; they were at the center of the
l i f e and awareness of the Greek community ju s t as the them es/rituals
of the African dramas mentioned in th is introduction are a t the center
of African culture. Thus, c r i ti c a l responses to these plays should
provide what Soyinka refers to as "an index of dramatic a ttitu d e s and
. . . even more relev an tly , a re fle c tio n of those world-views which
separate and profoundly a ffe c t the re la tio n s of a r t and l i f e in
?n
d iffe rin g c u ltu re s."
I t should be in te rje c te d here th a t my selection of plays is
not a rb itra ry . I t is intended to lim it the scope of the inquiry and
18
to suggest a c ertain approach to the notion of African drama based
on European m aterials. Obviously, the method of sampling precludes
any so rt of completeness. There are many other kinds of African
dramas which I barely touch upon, such as radio plays, local operas,
and a growing body of indigenous "tragedies" which do not u t i l i z e
21
European source material a t a l l . However, the plays which I have
selected ra ise problems, as mentioned above, about the nature of
tragedy in d isparate c u ltu re s, the problems of cro ss-cu ltu ral adapta
tio n , the nature of "the dramatic," and the tools of analysis needed
to assess th is drama. I t is one thing for the c r i t i c to say, "Well,
th is is obviously a reworking of the Oedipus theme" and quite another
thing to assess the dramatic impact of such a thematic reworking on a
non-Western audience. "At th is point," as Fergusson reminds us, "the
studies of h isto ria n s, theologians, and anthropologists are useful,
for they help to free us from our provincial habits of mind; and they
22
provide a way of correcting and amplifying d ire c t impressions."
However, they also have a way of focusing our a tte n tio n on arcane
m atters which are often outside the l i f e and form of the play i t s e l f .
Though I acknowledge th a t valuable studies have been made in these
areas, I make no attempt to in v estig ate in depth Yoruba or IJaw meta
physics as such, nor to delve into those murky waters where l i e many
an anthropological grid. I wish ra th e r to assume these d iscip lin ary
studies and to re fe r to th e ir findings, from time to time, for clues
to the analogies between various forms of drama proper and for insights
into the in te rp re ta tio n of p a rtic u la r passages.
- 19.
INTRODUCTION FOOTNOTES
■^Francis Fergusson, Idea of a Theatre (Garden City, N.Y.:
Doubleday Anchor Books, I n c ., 1953), p. 4.
o
Bernth Lindfors, "C ritical Approaches to Folklore in African
L ite ra tu re ," in African Folklore, ed. Richard M . Dorson (Garden City,
N.Y.: Doubleday Anchor Books, In c ., 1972), p. 223.
3
"The poet must be aware th a t in the mind of Europe—the mind
of his own country—a mind which he learns in time to be much more
important than his own private mind--is a mind which changes, and th a t
th is change is a development which abandons nothing en ro u te , which
does not superannuate e ith e r Shakespeare, or Homer, or the rock drawing
of the Magdalenian draughtsmen." T. S. E lio t, "Tradition and the
Individual Talent," in Selected Prose, Penguin edition (Hammondsworth,
Middlesex: Faber and Faber, 1958), p. 25.
^Jack Richardson, "Persons of the Drama," rev. of Theatre
Criticism and Comment, by Stanley Kauffmann, New York Times Book
Review, 26 July 1968, pp. 21-22.
c
Martin Esslin, "Two Nigerian Playwrights," in Introduction to
African L ite ra tu re , ed. U11 i Beier (London: Longman, 1967), p. 225.
Chinua Achebe, "Where Angels Fear to Tread," Nigeria
Magazine, 75 (1962), 62.
^Wole Soyinka, Myth, L iteratu re and the African World
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1976), p. 38.
^Esslin, p. 256.
Q
Lloyd W . Brown, "The Black A esthetic and Comparative
C riticism ," in Council on National L iteratu re Report, ed. Anne
Paolucci, No. 1 (January, 1974), p. 8.
^ J . P. Clark, Three Plays (London: Oxford University Press,
1964), p. 68.
20
■^Esslin, p. 258.
12
Adrian A. Roscoe, Mother is Gold (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1971), p. 209.
^ E s s l i n , p. 260.
14
Wole Soyinka, In tro d ., Death and the King's Horseman (New
York: W . W . Norton & Co., In c., 1975), n. page.
15
Joseph Bruchac, "Wole Soyinka," in Contemporary Dramatists,
ed. James Vinson (New York: St. M artin's Press, 1977), p. 742.
1 fi
Kofi Awoonor, The Breast of the Earth (Garden City, N.Y.,
Doubleday, 1975), 318.
■^Wole Soyinka, Collected Plays 2 (London: Oxford University
Press, 1974), p. 209.
18M . M . Mahood, "Wole Soyinka," Ibadan, June 1959, p. 29.
19
Geoffrey S. Kirk, The Bacchae of Euripides: A tra n sla tio n
with-commentary (Englewood C lif fs , N.J.: Prentice Hall, 1970), p. v.
20
Soyinka, Myth, L iteratu re and the African World, p. 44.
21
Soyinka has an in te re stin g observation here on African
tragedies. He says,
Sadly, the would-be tragedies which flood the African
lite r a r y scene display l i t t l e of th is understanding
[of tragedy as a vehicle for experiencing or penetrating
the framework of a world perception]. Their tawdry
claims to a tte n tio n are f u l f i l l e d only through momentary
fru s tra tio n a t one's in a b ility to re fe r to available
printed plays or to capture in the lite r a r y idiom th at
essence of allegory or symbolic drama which so eloquently
consoles man for the lim itations th a t hinder him from
grasping, in tu itiv e ly , the kernels of mysteris th a t
constantly l i t t e r his awareness.
Soyinka, Myth, L ite ra tu re and the African World, p. 55.
22
Fergusson, Idea of a Theatre, p. 25.
21
CHAPTER I
EDUFA A N D ALCESTIS: SYSTEMATIC AFFILIATIONS
A N D VARIATIONS IN STRUCTURE OF M EANING
For scholars, im itators and re v is io n is ts , both ancient and
modern, Euripides' A lcestis has held a great deal of fascination.
Some scholars have been open admirers of th is early work of the play
wright which bears a marked, though not e a sily pinpointed kinship to
Euripides' l a s t masterpiece, The Bacchae; others c r i ti c i z e Euripides
for bringing in a final solution "in such an external and mechanical
way."* To modern readers of English, the best known, perhaps, of the
im itativ e-rev isio n ary w riters are Robert Browning (B alaustion's
Adventure, 1871); T. S. E liot (The Cocktail P arty , 1950); and Graham
o *
Greene (The Potting Shed, 1956). Browning added on--to a f a ir ly
accurate rendition of the Euripidean te x t--a version of the myth in
which Admetus and A lcestis are equally heroic and equally unreal;
Greene managed a l i t e r a l resurrection from the dead; and E liot
transmuted Euripides' drama into a sophisticated and contemporary
Christian morality play. Indeed, E lio t's, transmutation was so
radical th at i t enabled him to play th e a tric a l games with the c r i ti c s
and the public by keeping s ile n t for two years about his debt to
Euripides:
22
. . . no one of my acquaintance [and no dramatic
c r i ti c s ] recognized the source of my story in the
A lcestis of Euripides. In fa c t, I have had to go
into d etailed explanation to convince them . . . .
of the genuineness of the in s p ir a tio n .3
This meager clue served two purposes: i t enabled E liot to .tweak the
cred u lity of the c r i ti c a l f ra te r n ity ; i t also provided "an in v ita tio n
to seek out the heart of his performance." E lio t's remarks were so
cryptic th a t even today attempts a t unravelling the p lay's alleged
kinship with Euripides' A lcestis often s tra in the read er's c re d u lity .,
William Arrowsmith goes so fa r as to point out th a t in The Cocktail
Party E lio t's s p l i t between the secular and the sacred is not
5
adequately grounded in the poetry i t s e l f . And John R. Wilson under
scores th is c ritic is m by remarking, "Euripides is fa r more honest
[than E lio t] , and in fa c t gives the devil his due to such an extent
th a t he is s t i l l m isinterpreted through the sim p lificatio n of an
r
exclusively romantic approach."
Such has been the atte n tio n given to the Eliot-Euripides
connection th a t few Western readers have paid much atten tio n to Efua
Sutherland's play, Edufa, and th is despite the fa c t th at i t has been
produced both in Ghana and Great B ritain. Unlike E lio t's play,
Edufa (1964) does not take "detailed explanation" to convince the
reader/audience of the genuineness of Sutherland's in sp ira tio n . At
f i r s t blush, A lcestis seems the u n lik e lie s t source for a play about
contemporary Africa with i t s elements of w itc h c ra ft, i t s exploration
of the Western concept of tragedy, i t s cro ss-cu ltu ral interp o latio n of
myth, and i t s ambiguity. Surely, A lcestis is one of the minor Greek
23
dramas and exhibits very much less the "deep form" of classical
tragedy than Medea, for instance, though, as several scholars are
/
quick to point out, i t is considerably more than a saty r play. Closer
examination, however, reveals th a t the ambiguity th a t hangs over Edufa
is also the most conspicuous t r a i t of A lc e s tis . Unlike E lio t, who did
not cushion the shock of his source revelation by outlining p a ra lle ls
th a t would f a c i l i t a t e recognition, Sutherland's play in v ites compari
son. Recognition of Edufa's model is part of the fab ric of the play's
stru ctu re of meaning and an overt in v ita tio n to seek out the heart
of the drama.
A rchitectu rally as well as psychologically the stage arrange
ment for Edufa resembles the th eatre of the Greeks in spacial d e fin i
tio n , th a t i s , three d is tin c t planes: Actors, Chorus, and Audience.
The spectators in the audience are seated in Edufa's courtyard a t
flo o r level (instead of on tie re d benches), surrounding the orchestra
("dance ground") on three sides. Sutherland*^ stage d irections s ta te
th a t, "The gate by which [the audience] have entered is the same one
the Chorus and other characters use." This is the la te ra l passageway
(parodoi) of Greek th e a tre but reversed—the entrance of the Greek
Chorus was from behind the stage. Wide steps link the courtyard to
the inner court and ground flo o r of Edufa's expensive house. With
rare exceptions in Sutherland's play, the actors are confined to th is
ground flo o r or inner courtyard level. At th is l e v e l , d ire c tly in
front of the audience, "towards the back, and s lig h tly o ff-cen tre ,' a
slim p i l l a r stands from flo o r to c e ilin g ." Dramatically the p i l l a r
2A
is of no use whatsoever throughout the play and, as a building
s tru c tu re , is unheard of in tra d itio n a l African houses, even expensive
ones. But i t is the focal point of the stage and serves, i f my guess
is c o rre c t, as a th e a tric a l touchstone with the p illa re d a l t a r of
Dionysus common to the fifth -c e n tu ry Greek th e a tre . Behind th is
p i l l a r is an immovable back wall corresponding to the ancient Greek
backdrop or sk@n§ (te n t) and two flanking w alls, l e f t and rig h t. A
door in the rig h t w all, close to the courtyard step s, leads into the
kitchen. Sutherland's scene d ire ctio n s indicate there should be
"three long, boxlike s e a ts , which match the color of the p i l l a r . Two
of these are close to the courtyard steps, against the side walls;
one is rig h t o ff the p i l l a r . " Finally, there are two short f lig h ts of
steps between the back and side w alls. These lead to Edufa's rooms
on the l e f t , and guest rooms on the rig h t.
I t is important to keep Sutherland's t r i p a r t i t e staging in mind
because i t provides the arc h ite c tu ra l backdrop fo r her thematic
stru c tu re of meaning. I t can be no accident th a t there is no scenery
except the skene, flanked by the steps and fronted by the p i l l a r .
Such a rch itectu ral adornment may indeed suggest the "atmosphere of
elegant spaciousness" th a t dominates Edufa's house. But, a t the same,
time, i t may also conjure up the facade of a Greek temple, or palace.
And here, c le a rly , is no lim itatio n : Sutherland, lik e Euripides, could
have had an elaborately r e a l i s t i c stage i f she had wanted i t . She
prefers a minimum of physical properties and a few obvious stage props
of the simplest kind--three boxlike seats and two clay w ater-pots; a
__________________________________________________________ 25
sim p licity , in short, th a t allows the imagination of the audience to
explore with the playwright "the Afro-Western juxtapositions and
syntheses th a t mark the changing Ghanaian society beyond the th eatre
i t s e l f . " 7
The way in which Sutherland has improvised on A lcestis will
be most clear i f we f i r s t notice the s im ila r itie s between the two
plays. These are e a sily d isc e rn ib le , though they are not always
id e n tic a l. The bare events in Euripides' version of the myths of
Admetus and A lcestis are these: A lcestis is the daughter of Pelias and
wife of Admetus, king of Pherae. In g ratitude for past kindnesses,
Apollo had promised th at Admetus might escape death i f someone would
consent to die in his place. When the time came, Admetus' friends
and his aged parents a ll refused to do so, but A lcestis agreed. In
the course of the play, A lcestis d ie s, but not before her husband has
promised her, in g ra titu d e , a l i f e of celibacy for himself and of
dedication to th e ir children. During the funeral arrangements,
Heracles v i s i t s Admetus' palace and, unaware of the s itu a tio n , is
hospitably entertained by Admetus. When he learns of his h o st's
hospitable dissim ulation, Heracles rewards i t by overcoming Thanatos
(Death) in an o ff-stag e w restling match and restoring A lcestis to
Admetus.
The n arrative stru c tu re of Edufa follows the broad o utlines of
A lcestis up to a point. Edufa is a rich and successful businessman,
respected in his hometown and greatly loved by his w ife, Ampoma. He
learns from an oracle th a t he will die and th a t the only way to escape
26
death is to find someone w illing to die for him. To his horror, a f te r
he f a i l s to trap his old fa th e r, Kankam, into saying th a t he loves him
well enough to die for him, his own wife Ampoma sta te s her affection
for him in those terms. Consequently, she becomes the victim of the
charm Edufa has brought to save himself. The unexpected appearance of
Senchi--a Heracles-type ch aracter—provides some comic r e l i e f :to the
serious a ctio n , but, unlike Heracles, he is helpless to a l t e r Ampoma's
fa te .
Further p a ra lle ls between the two plays can readily be charted.
The main action of A lcestis takes place on the day on which A lcestis
dies for Admetus; the curtain rise s on Act I of Edufa on the day
Ampoma will die for Edufa. In Euripides' play Admetus is g r ie f -
stricken;
You break my heart, A lc e stis, when you ta lk
of Charon and his t e r r i b l e boat—Oh! what are we
to do? (262 f . ) 8
Edufa, for his p a rt, is extremely concerned about Ampoma's f a ilin g
health and despairs of his a b ility to counteract the e ffe c t of the
charm. Admetus, despite his g r ie f, is hospitable to Heracles; Edufa
welcomes the indigent wanderer, Senchi, and throws a party in his
honor. Admetus minimizes the seriousness of the situ a tio n by con
cealing the fa c t th a t i t is his wife who has died; likewise Edufa
t r i e s to pass o ff the true nature of Ampoma's a f f lic tio n with the
understatement, "my wife recovers . . . " (p. 258). Both plays use the
convention of the chorus of c itiz e n s as a prismatic technique for
dramatizing s o c ie ty 's awareness of the scene of human l i f e which the
play assumes.
___________________________________________________________________________________ 27
The s im ila r itie s of Sutherland's plo t to Euripides' A lcestis
should not, however, obscure some sig n ific a n t differen ces. These are
b rie fly alluded to by Lloyd W . Brown in another connection. Professor
/ '
Brown points out th a t,
Edufa is not condemned to death by an angry
deity. He simply learns th a t his death is imminent
and th a t i t can be averted by having a loved one die
in his place. In Sutherland's play, the husband
Edufa does not ask his wife frankly to be his sub
s t i t u t e , but dupes Ampoma into the role by having her
make the usually symbolic declaration of love: she
loves him well enough to die for him. And, unlike
A lc e s tis , Sutherland's play ends on a note of
completely tra g ic f in a lity : there is no rescue from
death here.9
This i n i t i a l s p l i t in the plo t increases g reatly when we look
fu rth e r into the d iffe re n t stru ctu res of meaning. The f i r s t of these
can be glimpsed in the Prologue which Euripides employs: to f i l l in
the mythical background. After Apollo’s monologue (1-28), explaining
his involvement with Admetus, Death-Thanatos appears to begin his
dread o ffic e . The confrontation is designed to be comic, p a rtic u la rly
in Apollo's h is trio n ic j e s t : he pretends to aim his bow a t Death
arrogantly waving his big sword:
APOLLO: Never fe a r, I have nothing but ju s tic e and f a i r
words for you.
DEATH: If you mean f a i r l y , what are you doing with a bow?
(38 f f .) '
Apollo argues with him th a t he should wait t i l l A lcestis is old, but
Death says he regards the young as the g re a te st prize:
DEATH: M y p riv ileg e means more to me when they die young.
APOLLO: If she dies old, she will have a lavish b u ria l.
28
DEATH: What you propose, Phoebus, is to favor the rich.
N . iL(55ff.)
Apollo prophesies th a t A lcestis will be taken from Death by force and
th a t he w ill go away as he came, "hateful to mankind and loathed by
the gods." (62). After th is b rie f attempt to put o ff Death-Thanatos,
Apollo leaves the scene for good, and the final overcoming of death
is effected by the intrusion of the hero Heracles who forces Death to
give back his sp o ils. The only connection which Apollo has with the
action of the play, th erefo re, is th a t he f i r s t arranges the
"privilege" of the s u b stitu te death and forecasts the reso lu tio n .
Sutherland elim inates the comic confrontation between Death-
Thanatos and Apollo. In i t s place she su b stitu te s a prologue in which
Abena, Edufa's s i s t e r , soliloquizes about strange happenings in the
night and sings a mournful ly ric of some eleven lin es:
ABENA: 0 child of Ama,
Child of Ama in the night,
Is wandering,
Crying, . . .
W hy wandering in the night
Like the dying?
Meewuo! (p. 211)
This section of Sutherland's prologue not only forecasts the reso lu
tio n , but i t s substance is actu a lly repeated in the "epilogue" by the
Chrous and the Heraclean fig u re, Senchi. So, while excising the
characters of Euripides' prologue, Sutherland has retained his s ty le
and th e a tric a l form.
F inally, in his prologue Euripides prepares his audience to
follow his development of what the myth implies "as an in te rp re ta tio n
of human and divine re la tio n sh ip s, and as an evaluation of n o b ility ,
29
marriage, and death and r e s u r r e c tio n ." ^ ' But his audience already
knew the shape of the myth from f o lk -ta le themes and from Phrynichus'
e a r lie r play. Sutherland, w riting for a modern African audience,
cannot rely on a background of Greek myth. She must use her Greek
source in such a way th a t the unravelling of the plot will seem
natural in the cu ltu ral context of modern-day Ghana. The audience
must also be able to follow Sutherland's own development of what the
myth implies for Ghanaian so ciety , th a t i s , as an in te rp re ta tio n of
human and sp iritu a l re la tio n sh ip s, and as an evaluation of the new
society, marriage, and death, and the a f t e r l i f e . Thus, in the
second h a lf of the prologue, Abena must s e t the scene in the manner
of Euripides' Chorus, but without the aid of th a t p a rtic u la r
th e a tric a l idiom.
When the lig h ts go up on Sutherland's prologue, Abena is seen
mixing some so rt of ablution from a black pot containing dew water and
a red pot f i l l e d with stream water. The task has been assigned to her
by her brother Edufa whom she describes as the "benevolent one."
Everybody loves him. His house had been open to a ll and he had brought
laughter to old and young a lik e . But now there is an unnatural
silence in the home as a r e s u lt of Ampoma's ilI n e s s —because Edufa
has chosen to keep q uiet. Abena cannot figure i t out. Her brother,
she t e l l s us, says nothing to her. She closes the scene by picking up
both pots and placing them a t Edufa's barred bedroom door. She her
s e lf ex its by the kitchen.
___________________________________________________________________________________ 30_
The business of the ablution pots is a reversal of Euripides'
dramatic convention. When the Chorus of old men arrives in A lc e s tis ,
they already know th e ir queen's ultim ate f a te , but they find none of
the funeral trappings th at would indicate she is actu ally dead:
CHORUS: This is strange! No s t i r a t the door,
No sound, but the whole house sile n t!
Not one friend of Admetus near to t e ll us
Whether our Queen, A lc e stis, daughter of Pali as,
Is dead, and we must mourn her, . . . (79 f f . )
They ask, in e f f e c t, "Are we to grieve or not? Somebody please t e l l
us whether A lcestis has died or not." Their reaction to the fa c t of
death is a matter of timing and r itu a l observance. They want to know
what e tiq u e tte requires them to do, when to begin the conventional
signs of mourning--the groaning and lamenting and beating of hands on
breasts:
CHORUS A: Do you hear any sound in the house
Of mourning or of weeping?
Any cry like the cry th a t breaks when a ll is over?
( 8 6 f f . )
In th e ir mind's eye they foresee a b e a u tifu lly appointed fu n eral,
complete with bowl of water and curl of hair:
CHORUS A: When someone has died, i t is customary
To place a bowl of spring-water before the door;
But I see none.
CHORUS B: And there would be a curl of h air hung here,
Cut for a sign of sorrow, and the young women w ailing,
If she were dead. (93 f f .)
In sum, the Chorus wants A lcestis dead so they can go through the
motions of ritu a l
31
Sutherland, by c o n tra st, employs the ablution pots as a counter
active force. She requires Abena to place the ablution pots outside
Edufa's bedroom door. All the audience knows a t th is point is th at
Ampoma is unwell. But, there is something odd about her illn e s s , so
odd in fa c t th a t the tra d itio n a l Ghanaian conventions for expressing
sympathy have been discarded by Edufa:
ABENA: W hy then does brother shut our gate to stop such flow
of friends? M m ? True th a t Ampoma, his wife, is
unwell; but i f she is unwell, should we not open
our gate? She is not mortally i l l ; but even so,
j u s t l e t i t be known, and sympathy and comforting
g if ts would flow in from every home. (p. 2 1 2 )
The ablution pots dramatize th a t something more ominous than Ampoma's
illn e s s is a t stake and th a t the principals have resorted not to the
tenets of e tiq u e tte but to the observance of African r i t u a l . The
point can hardly be missed by the audience.
To sum up: In the prologue Sutherland has replaced both
Apollo and the Greek Chorus with Edufa's s i s t e r , Abena. Apollo had
served Admetus for a year as a c a ttle shepherd as punishment for having
k illed the Cyclops. Abena is simply in place as a servant in her
brother Edufa's household, a typical African arrangement until
marriage. She does not know why Ampoma is i l l . The foreboding con
frontation between Apollo and Death is transmuted in Abena's r i t u a l i s
t i c mixing of dew and spring water for Edufa's mysterious ablutions.
Sadness has replaced joy in Edufa's household, and silence laughter:
ABENA: Here in th is house, where there was always
someone laughing, suddenly no one feels lik e
smiling. I'v e never known such silence in my
b ro th e r's house, (p. 2 1 2 )
32
The night m otif, symbolized by Death-Thanatos in A lc e s tis , is expressed
verbally by Abena in Edufa. These innovations enable Sutherland to
condense 134 lines of Euripides' prologue to 61, and also to modernize
the unfolding of the p lo t.
In Edufa, as in A lc e s tis , the p lo t is enough to keep the
characters in motion; i t could conceivably be described as more an
"action" than a p lo t. But the p lo t p a ra lle ls do not hold the play
together; what holds the play together i s , to borrow from E lio t, "a
unity of in sp ira tio n th at radiates into plo t and personages a lik e ."
Sutherland spends the greater part of her play, then, not only in
variations on Euripides' p lo t, but also in transmutations of his
characters as w ell. She expands, for instance, the role of the servant
woman in A lc e s tis . Seguwa, "a matronly member of Edufa's household,"
resembles Casandra; she carries forward much of the play's symbolism.
Sam, "an id io t servant," is introduced in the second a c t. He functions
chiefly as lia iso n between Edufa and the witch doctor while a t the
same time serving as the u n settlin g voice of innocence. The Phares/
Admetus confrontation is l e f t in ta c t with a p a rtic u la rly African
tw ist involving veneration of the eld erly . But perhaps Sutherland's
most in te re stin g v ariation on the original play is her use of a
Chorus of young women as a force p o te n tia lly affectin g the characters.
Euripides, of course, uses the Chorus in th is manner also. In
A lc e s tis , however, the Chorus of old men remains e s se n tia lly outside
the action; i t comments on the action and in te rp re ts i t s moral
significance for the audience. Sutherland changes the role of
___________________________________________________________________ 33
Euripides' Chorus so th a t i t a c tu a lly takes part in the actio n --th e
three young women are guests a t Edufa's party to honor Senchi. By
giving Edufa not one but many guests to e n te rta in , Sutherland has
enlarged the social s itu a tio n created for Admetus by the a rriv a l of
11
Heracles.
Although Heracles eventually becomes many guests in Edufa, the
resemblance between him and Senchi is carefu lly developed by Sutherland
early in the play. Heracles' arriv al is unscheduled; Senchi arrives
unexpectedly also , breezing into Edufa's courtyard "flamboyantly,
w histling to announce himself" (p. 236). In Euripides' play Heracles'
courage and resourcefulness are established for us immediately by his
te llin g the Chorus about his adventures:
I t seems I must fig h t a ll the sons of Ares in turn:
F irs t Lycaon, then Cycnus; and now I'm on my way to
measure strength with Diomede and his horses.
(A lc e s tis , 524 f f . )
As soon as Senchi swings into Edufa's courtyard he esta b lish es his
credentials as a devil-may-care hedonist, a man of i n f i n i t e j e s t .
SENCHI: The wanderer . . . come in the nick of time,
when everything he loves is together in one
place. Friends, women, b o ttle s . . . I'm
always lucky. I love women and always find
myself rig h t in the middle of them. Welcome me.
(p. 236)
A ctually, Senchi's b l u s t e r i s a mask concealing a serious s p i r i t , one
which looks with ~jatmd4eed~ eye on the pedestrian a c t i v i t i e s of his
fellow human beings. As in so much of tra d itio n a l and contemporary
African drama, the presence and/or symbolic idea of the mask is crucial
in Sutherland; i t enables her to blend a mode of Western th eatre
34
(Greek) with a convention of\A frican folk-drama in order to c r i ti c i z e
any aberration which may imperil the eudaemonic goals of society.
Senchi's mask is derived from the customs and dances of t r a d i
tional African se c re t s o c ie tie s , the Egungun of the Yoruba being one;
the Ekue se c re t society of the Efik or Ekoi a t Calabar (Nigeria) is
another. Societies lik e the Egungun, w rites Uli Bier, have
the social function of providing a lin k between the
living and the dead. One duty is to comfort and in s tru c t
the bereaved a f te r a funeral. . . . A man who is told by
the Ifa oracle to workshp one of his ancestors . . . has a
mask made and presents i t to the Alagba, the head of the
Egungun, asking him to find a dancer. During the ceremony
the ancestor will take possession of the dancer, and speak
to his re la tiv e s w hilst using the dancer as a medium.I?
The masked dancer does not become the dead man, but remains a dancer;
he only lends the dead man his voice and gestures. The effectiveness
of the dancer's mask is measured not so much by the degree to which i t
resembles a man as by the degree to which i t does not resemble him
This type of mask (muzimu) is not, th e re fo re , the real face of an
"apparition"; i t is an image th a t goes beyond r e a l i ty , the negation of
14
the departed man’s face (muzima) .
Like a master carver of masks, Sutherland has taken the
g re a te st possible freedom in the creation of Senchi's dramatic mask.
She has produced a more than real face, a non-face. Senchi's mask
becomes the non-face of Heracles only through designation, th a t i s ,
according to the role which he happens to express in the play. I t is
possible to recognize Heracles in Senchi's non-face, but behind his
mask are the tra d itio n a l moral and social values of Ghanaian society.
35
He is the c a r rie r of supernatural forces which he conjures up in a
disguised voice reminiscent of the-Egwugwu-in Achebe's famous novel,
Things Fall Apart. In th is process Senchi never a sse rts th a t he i_s_
the " s p ir it" of so ciety , nor does he seriously chide Edufa for the
se lf-se rv in g way he has adopted the crass materialism of Western
c u ltu re . Nevertheless, the mores of Ghanaian society are expressed in
his exchanges with the Chorus and in his story tel 1ing. These facets
of his dramatic persona evince a greater c r i t i c a l / i n t e l l e c t u a l involve
ment with his feTlow human beings than does Heracles '^special power
over human destiny.
Senchi's humanistic t r a i t s are c le a rly evident a t Edufa's
\
cocktail party. Euripides, i t w ill be re c a lle d , has Heracles get
drunk and uproarious o ffsta g e --th e d e ta ils are reported by the Servant.
Senchi sings and drinks and f l i r t s with the g i r l s ,i n the Chorus, but
onstage. Euripides' Servant reproves Heracles for his conduct a t
Admetus' banquet a f te r the fa c t. Admetus had allowed Heracles to
carry on out of a Greek sense of h o s p ita lity . Ampoma's appearance a t
Edufa's p arty, on the other hand, brings an abrupt h a lt to the singing
and dancing (p. 256). Ampoma is amused by the romping scene, but her
weakened condition e ffe c tiv e ly puts a pall on the f e s t i v i t i e s . In
E u r i p i d e s p l a y , the news th a t i t was A lcestis who died has a sobering
e ffe c t on Heracles: "Now show what so rt of son Alcemene of Tyrus bore
to immortal Zeus! The woman's dead; and I must rescue her, and pay the
debt of kindness I owe Admetus. . . ." (874 f f . ) Heracles promises to
36
"set A lcestis in her own home a g a in --a liv e !" while Senchi can only
reproach himself for a breech of e tiq u e tte :
Oh, how thoughtless of me. Has Ampoma been i l l ?
And I haven't asked for her. . . . Though I'v e
brought her a song. I t ' s a ll your f a u lt (Edufa)
for d is tra c tin g me. Sorry, (p. 258)
Unlike Heracles—half-human, h a lf-d iv in e —Senchi exercises no special
power a ffectin g human destiny. He appears to lack any real in sig h t
into the events which tra n sp ire onstage. Even a t the end of the play,
though he professes concern with the unpleasant turn of events, he can
verbalize nothing more profound than the comment th a t he is always
coming up "blank" (p. 268). But th is in i t s e l f is an in sig h t. Far
from admitting blankness on his p a rt, he is a c tu a lly , through his non
face, attacking the moral/social blankness of a world dominated by the
d estru ctiv e emptiness/blankness of Edufa.
Senchi's resemblance to Heracles, then, is much more tenuous
than i t would a t f i r s t appear. What is readily recognizable stops a t
certain incidents of conduct, what Heilman labels "conviviality in the
midst of d is tr e s s ." But, i f the transmutation of Heracles is incom
plete, i t is not because Sutherland was unable to find an objective
equivalent for the supernatural aspect of his character (demi-gods are
not unknown in African mythology). Rather the fractured Senchi-
Heracles image is linked to the African notion of mask and dancer.
Sutherland is not, to use Malraux's expression, "geometrizing a phan
tom" of which the audience can be expected to know l i t t l e , but raisin g
i t through his geometry. The effectiveness of Senchi's mask, then,
37
must be measured not so much by the degree to which i t resembles
Heracles as by the degree to which i t does not resemble him.
Onto Senchi's dramatic frame Sutherland has grafted some of
the c h a ra c te ris tic s of Apollo, described by Euripides' Chorus as "The
Soothsayer, the Musician" (574 f f . ) . Though he does not pluck the
lu te , Senchi does play the trumpet; he is the tra d itio n a l troubador
of the road, a musician "trying to pay [his] way in the currency of
his songs" (p. 246).
At the beginning of Act I I I , scene i i , Edufa and Senchi engage
in a b rie f exchange near the t r e s t l e ta b le . Edufa says he must per
form an a c t of love before the dinner guests arriv e. Senchi mis
takenly thinks Edufa speaks of country m atters, but Edufa is quick to
c la r ify his meaning:
EDUFA: Ju st now you judged me unemotional. . . .
But tonight I'm a man l i f t e d up by her
[Ampoma's] love, and I know th a t nothing
less than flowers will do for one such as
she. (p. 248)
Edufa then has his s i s t e r Abena bring the flowers to Ampoma:
EDUFA: Take these flowers to Ampoma. (He speaks
emotionally to the flow ers.) Tell her th a t
I, her husband, send them, th a t i t is she
who has so matured my love. I would have
presented them myself, but I have learned
the music of shyness and haven't the boldness
to look into her eyes y et.
Abena is so affected by th is gesture th a t she embraces Edufa "happily"
and takes the flowers from him. Senchi is not so e asily taken in.
For him, Edufa's speech rings hollow:
38
SENCHI: Applause! Standing ovation! This is the
f i r s t graceful act I'v e ever seen you do.
(As Abena walks away.) Keep the door open
as you go, and l e t my song keep tune to
th is monument of n o b ility . (He sin g s.)
(p. 249)
I
•penchi's song here is in the tra d itio n of the African dramatic ta le in
which the t a l e t e l l e r makes up songs, centering on the s itu a tio n of the
ta le ; he teaches the chorus of the ta le to the audience and thus
assures himself of audience response whenever he needs i t . "The achive-
ment of the individual a r t i s t , " w rite Bohannan and Curtin, "is to be
found in the music and in the version of the ta le and the way he
manipulates the dramatic elements in i t to enlarge or point his
X 5 e
moral." Here Senchi is again withdrawing momentarily into the inner
world of his mask in order to submit his rational awareness of the
s itu a tio n —in th is case Edufa's fa lse n e ss--to i t s deeper e ffe c ts within
the community. In th is way his voice re la te s the symbolic language
of the so c ie ty 's c o lle c tiv e social experience and cultural tra d itio n s
to enlarge or point his moral. Senchi's audience already knows the
corpus of ta le s from which his song is gleaned. The communicant effect
of his song on his audience, th erefo re, is immediate: they emerge from
the choric experience acting as a family corporately supplicating the
gods for Ampoma's return to health. (E a rlie r when Kankam had trie d to
get Edufa to denounce his wrong and destroy the evil charm, he had
used the phrase, ". . . a ll of us whose souls are corporate in th is
household" [p. 2261). Abena, turning in appreciation of Senchi's song,
drops the flowers. They fa ll on the step with the symbolic sign of
the sun on i t . Edufa immediately becomes tense for he recognizes the
39
ominous significance of her e rro r--th e oracle had in stru cted him,
through Sam, to "make the sign of the sun on your doorstep where your
s p i r i t walks in and out with you" (p. 242). The sun sign symbol
emphasizes his exclusion of family custom and tra d itio n . But Edufa's
moral consciousness is now stretched by Senchi's song to embrace a
d iffe re n t and more primal r e a lity beyond th a t of charms and w itch craft.
Edufa, however, is too much in the th ra ll of evil to be swayed by
anything but su p erficial panaceas.
Senchi continues his song a f t e r the incident and Edufa,
enchanted by the melody, attempts to jo in q u ie tly in the re fra in . At
the end of the song he remarks, "Very good, Senchi." "Good" in many
West African languages is a synonym for "b eau tifu l"; beauty and tru th
x !
are the message of Senchi's songs. E a rlie r he had to ld Seguwa,
I make songs, you know. (Patting his le a th e r case.)
Songs for everything; songs fo r goodness, songs for
badness; for stren g th , for weakness; for dimples and
w rinkles; and, for making you cry. But I ' l l t e l l you
a se c re t. I never make songs about u g lin ess, because
I simply think i t should not e x is t, (p. 239)
Now Seguwa is so affected by the beauty of Senchi's song th a t she
begins to sob qu ietly behind the t r e s t l e tab le . Noticing her,
Senchi remarks, "That is the w ettest eyed woman I have ever seen."
But his purpose a ll along has been to make people "cry," th a t i s , to
make them re a liz e through the efficacy of the song, the "communal
humanism of family and relig io u s customs."
SENCHI: (He goes to h er.) Oh, sorry; I promised to
make you cry, d id n 't I? There now, are you
happy?
4a
SEGUW A: T hat's a song a f t e r my own heart.
SENCHI: A fter mine also. (p. 250)
What is transm itted by Senchi's song, then, is essence and response,
a phenomenon which Wole Soyinka explains as “the residual energies
from the p ro ta g o n ist's excursion into the realm of cosmic will which
16
. . . charges the community with new strength for actio n ." This
"new strength" is re fle c te d in Abena's subsequent report of Ampoma's
cheerful d isp o sitio n .
To return to Euripides for a moment: In A lcestis Apollo never
actu a lly sings, nor does he pluck his lu te ; these ta le n ts are a ll part
of his mythological presence which a Greek audience would simply
assume. Apollo does not provide, however, the comic dialogue with
Death which forecasts the reso lu tio n . I have already alluded to the
scene in which Apollo pretends to aim his bow a t Death, who is
arrogantly waving his big sword. This encounter is close, in its
coarse humor and in the c aricatu re of i t s gestu res, to Senchi's mock
chase of the Chorus with the funeral clappers ( I , i i , p. 237) and
l a te r to his romping procession around Edufa's s i t t i n g room ( I I I , i i i ,
p. 256). Euripides' audience recognized the Apollo-Thanatos confronta
tion for what i t was, v i z ., a b it of farce out of the f o lk - ta le t r a d i
tio n . "Death is a character in his own rig h t," w rites W . D. Smith,
"a nervous bully who is a fra id of a f ig h t, a grotesque bogey out of a
j
f a i r y - t a l e . " ^ So, too, a modern African audience would see in the
Senchi-Chorus segment a moment of comic r e l i e f not unlike the
impromptu farce common to fo lk -ta le s in the African oral tr a d itio n , or
41
to the tra d itio n a l African masquerade. Again we see Senchi's buffoon
ery as mask for his agony regarding the waste and destruction in his
world.
But aside from these cro ss-cu ltu ral touchstones, what is
in te re stin g about the Senchi-Apollo g ra ft is th a t i t enables Sutherland
\
18
to introduce music as an accompaniment to the tra g ic action. Apollo,
the god of lig h t, of healing and also of d isease, who spoke through the
Oracle a t Delphi, is frequently referred to in Greek drama as a singing
god. Take, for example, the f i r s t Strophe of the Parode in Oedipus:
What is the god singing in his profound
Delphi of gold and shadow?
What oracle fo r Thebes, the sunwhipped city?
References to Apollo's singing a b i l i t y are often linked with metaphors
of lig h t and darkness:
Now I remember, 0 Healer, your power and wonder:
Will you send doom lik e a sudden cloud, or weave i t
Like n ig h tfa ll of the past?
Ah no: be m erciful, issue of holy sound:
Dearest to our expectancy: be tender! (152 f f . )
In Edufa Sutherland uses sim ilar metaphors in the musical roles
assigned to the various characters: f i r s t to Senchi, in his ro le of
Dionysian choral leader, but shared in d iffe re n t ways by Abena and the
Chorus. Again, in Oedipus the Chorus asks, a f te r J o c a sta 's impiety,
" If such deed as these are honored, why should I dance and sin g ?"
(894-95), thus indicating one of the most important functions of the
Chorus. This, as Fergusson comments, is "to reveal, in i t s widest and
most mysterious ex ten t, the th e a tre of human l i f e which the play has
assumed. " 20
/
A Z
While the songs in Edufa may not to Western/tastes, equal the
music of the Spheres, they do serve to decorate and guide the action
a t key points in the drama by signaling changes of mood. Abena, i t
will be re c a lle d , sets the tone of the play in the prologue by singing
a woeful ballad about the child of Ama "wandering in the night/Like
the dying?" (pp. 211-212). Sutherland d ire c ts th a t the song be sung
"sorrowfully." Abena is to "keep up the l a s t bars of the song for a
while, p atting the black pot with one hand and her own arm with the
o th er, in a manner suggestive of self-c o n so la tio n ." Her song is
followed by a long monologue in which she t r i e s to fathom the inex
p licable sorrows th a t have befallen Edufa's household. She leaves the
stage humming her song. The prologue thus foreshadows in song the
motifs of the play to come.
Abena's appearance in the prologue is followed in Act I,
scene i , by a Chorus of women whose voices are heard outside the
courtyard w alls, chanting a dirge to the rhythm of wooden clappers:
CHORUS: Our mother's dead,
Ei! Ei—Ei!
W e the orphans cry,
Our mother's dead,
0 ! 0— 0 !
W e the orphans cry. (p. 214)
The dirge is heard again—th is time "in the d ista n c e "--a t the end of
scene ii a f te r Edufa and Ampoma have discussed th e ir predicament.
Hence, the scenes introducing the principal characters in the drama
are framed by a funeral song. Act II opens with the same solemn
dirge. Here, however, the song serves to carry forward the ominous
im plications of the "vehement"'confrontation between Kankam and his son,
43
Edufa, a t the end of the f i r s t Act I, i i i . The "solemn nature of
th e ir ritu a l observance," however, quickly changes to gaiety as they
enter Edufa's house and begin to in te ra c t with Seguwa. "W e have come,"
says Chorus One, "to drive evil away" (p. 231). When Edufa, the
tr a f f i c e r in evil charms, a rriv e s , th e ir mood of h i l a r i t y gradually
changes to one of solemnity:
CHORUS: [becoming formal.] Evil has no place here.
Nor anywhere. Away, away. [Moving rhythmically
a t a slow running pace through the court and
courtyard, they perform t h e i r ritu a l with
solemnity. Chanting.] (p. 233)
Their ritu a l dirge over, the mood of the Chorus "changes to l i g h t
heartedness again" (p. 234). Edufa o ffers them conversation and
refreshment. Their cheerful banter is capped by Seguwa's happy
announcement th a t Ampoma has asked for food " a fte r three days without
in te re st" (p. 235). This sense of ela tio n continues throughout the
f i r s t h a lf of the following scene ( I I , i i ) , bolstered by the a rriv al
of the flamboyant troubador, Senchi. In th is scene, Senchi will seize
the funeral clappers from the Chorus and flin g them "in a heap below
the steps near the kitchen" (p. 237). But the atmosphere of con-
' !' '
v iv ia lity quickly evaporates once the singer and the Chorus depart the
scene. In other words, th e ir presence serves to humanize the s it u a
tio n , to lend balance to Edufa's s itu a tio n . As Chorus One remarks to
her companions as they c o lle c t th e ir drinks:
Tears and laughter. That's how i t is . I t i s n ' t a ll
tears and sorrow, my friends. Tears and laughter.
I t i s n ' t a ll want and pain. With one hand we wipe
away the unsweet water. And with the other we raise
a cup of sweetness to our lip s . I t i s n ' t a ll te a rs ,
my frie n d s , th is world of humankind, (pp. 234-235)
44
Without the Chorus and Senchi, Edufa and Seguwa have only te a rs and
sorrow in th e ir thoughts and on t h e i r lip s .
Senchi will sing no more happy songs u n til the romping scene
a t Edufa's dinner party ("Feather-fine ladies with hips th a t rhyme,
who the blazes minds your c h ild re n 's manners a t th is tim e," p. 256).
His one serious song in Act I I I , scene i i i , is a somewhat s a ti r i c a l
paean /to Edufa's o sten tatio n in sending flowers to Ampoma's bedroom
(p. 249). This song is repeated in the epilogue where i t becomes
Ampoma's epitaph, thus pulling together the various strands of meaning
begun by Abena's song in the prologue. In the final a n a ly sis, th e re
fo re, these musical segments are sig n ific a n t as one fu rth e r example of
Sutherland's a b i l i t y to in te g ra te a convention in herited from the
c la ssic a l Western tra d itio n with the tra d itio n s of Ghanaian music
th e a tre . In additio n , they point up her capacity for melding the
p lay's thematic in v estig atio n of the meaning of tra d itio n in the lives
and self-awareness of the principal characters with the role of con
ventions in Ghanaian society as a whole.
The Chorus and Senchi close out Sutherland's drama in what
could conceivably be lab elled an "epilogue." The fin a l Chorus in
A lc e s tis , as Philip V ellacott in d ic a te s, shows us Euripides' fatalism :
"There is no remedy against Necessity" (A lc e s tis , 966). Here in
Edufa the Chorus can only express i t s sorrow for Ampoma and i t s
bewilderment a t what has happened:
M l
CHORUS: Calamity
That we should be the w itnesses.
Do not re s tra in our te a rs ,
Let them stream,
Make a riv e r of sorrow, for Ampoma is dead
W e do not know how,
And we do not understand,
But she is dead. (p. 267)
Senchi is now alone on the stage, a searcher a f te r tru th who has
'
"ended up blank once again" (p. 239). He has viewed Ampoma's body o ff-
V
stage and, lik e the Chorus, seems bewildered by what has transpired in
Edufa's household:
SENCHI: All th a t is l e f t , the laughter of the flowers
in her li f e l e s s arms and the lingering smell
of incense. (He descends.)
And over me, the ta u t extension of the sky—
to which I ra ise my song. (p. 268)
Senchi's fin al song is an echo of his e a r l i e r ly ric sung a t Edufa's
/
party; now i t has become a dirge) for Ampoma and is somewhat enigmatic.
Sutherland seems to take some pleasure in puzzling us as to Senchi's
real thoughts here, which she had been a t pains to illum inate for us
e a r l i e r a t Edufa's party (p. 247 f f . ) . But perhaps th is paradox is
essen tial to the ro le here assigned to Senchi, who, though a necessary
part of the sto ry , remains, lik e Heracles, outside i t s intimate
c ir c le . In the end, we do not re a lly know him; we know only his mask.
He arriv es from nowhere-- "a wanderer tramping out [his] lif e " (p. 238'
—and seems about to depart again for the open road. The r e s u lt is to
leave unanswered the one thing about him th a t m atters: his re latio n sh ip
to Edufa, and the f u t i l i t y of the lesson he has to teach him.
M l
Sutherland's handling of both Senchi's dramatic persona and
the p lay 's musical portions leads to the question of what end such
ingenuity serves beyond illum inating the playw right's v irtu o sity ^ as an
interpolator-'of th e a tric a l convention. Obviously, p art of Sutherland's
achievement lie s in the perception and am plification of certa in mean
ings which inhere in E u rip id es'sp lo t and ch ara c te rs--in the myth which
she chose to tra n sp lan t across time and cu lture and in the workable
stage presentation which resu lted . This is not to say th a t her p lay 's
value re sts largely on i t s re la tio n sh ip with A lc e s tis . I t is only to
point out th a t any playwright using a drama of Euripides as a skeletal
o u tlin e has got to in h e r it a good deal of the th e a tric a l baggage
embedded in the original te x t, despite e ffo rts to transmute the
original s tru c tu re and themes to a c u ltu re a t once removed in time and
s e ttin g . Though th is axiom would seem to lim it Sutherland's achieve
ment, such a notion is quickly d isp elled i f we consider the moral/
in te lle c tu a l im plications of the actions of the respective ch aracters.
A fter his rebuke by the Servant fo r being drunk and d iso rd erly ,
Heracles makes a wild boast th a t he will rescue A lcestis from Death:
The black-robed King of the Dead w ill come to drink
the blood of victims offered a t her tomb. That's
where I ' l l find him: I ' l l hide th e re , watch for him,
leap out and spring on him; once I have my arms
locked around his writhing r ib s , th e r e 's no power
on earth shall wrench him fre e , t i l l he gives her
up to me! (845 f f .)
Euripides' lines provide the background for Edufa's fin al raging
statement:
4Z
Death, I will l i e closely a t the grave again, and
when you come gloating with your s p o il, I ' l l grab
you, unlock her from your g rip , and bring her
safely home to my bed. (p. 262)
But H e r a c le s w o rld s also provide the background for Seguwa's sober
remark e arly on in the play regarding the journey motif:
But may God help us a l l , for the bridge we are
now crossing is between the banks of l i f e and the
banks of death. And I do not know which way we
are facing, (p. 216)
Senchi, as we have indicated, has no part in the tra g ic action--which
culminates in the death of Ampoma—unless his romping with the Chorus
can be considered an ironic tw ist to the dance-of-death theme. From
Euripides's original a c tio n , however, Sutherland hasMmprovised on the
notion th a t the course of action upon which the protagonist is embarked
is serious and needs outside help. At f i r s t glance th is would hardly
seem an earth-shaking idea, except for the fa c t th a t Sutherland links
i t to the African concept of w itch craft. In her f i r s t worried exchange
with Edufa (Act I, scene i ) , Seguwa expresses her alarm a t Ampoma's
worsening condition:
I t seems to me th a t the time has come now to seek
some other help. All th is bathing in herbs and
incense burning— I d o n 't see i t bringing much
r e l i e f to your w ife, Ampoma, in th ere, (p. 215)
By "other help" Seguwa apparently refers e ith e r to Western medicine or
21
to tra d itio n a l trib a l remedies, as opposed to w itc h c ra ft. But she
manifestly knows of the hateful charge to which Edufa has sworn her
to secrecy:
EDUFA: Where is your fa ith ? I thought I could
tr u s t i t .
48
SEGUW A: You can t r u s t my secrecy; th a t I have
sworn; though what I have sworn to keep
s e c re t, now f re ts against the closed
walls of my sk u ll. I haven't sworn to
have fa ith against a ll reason, (p. 215)
Kankam is the only other person in the play who knows the s e c re t, the
real reason for Ampoma's il l n e s s , and he purely by accident—he has
learned of i t from his Diviner:
Oh, I know i t a l l , Edufa . . . Diviners are there for
a ll of us to ,c o n su lt. (Edufa winces.) And deeds done
in se c re t can, by the same process, be brought to lig h t.
(p. 223)
When faced-down with the tr u th , Edufa tw ists Seguwa's phrase, "against
all reason," and applies i t to his f a th e r 's charge: "Father, are you
mad?" he says, thus v io latin g a sacred Ghanaian taboo against question
ing the san ity of one's own fath er. Kankam's re jo in e r is a scathingly''
b i t t e r renunciation of his son. He c a lls him "stran g er," which -in
many African languages (Swahili, Twi, F a n ti, Ijaw) is a synonym for
"enemy":
I
All r ig h t, s tra n g e r, I am mad! And madness is
uncanny. Have you not noticed how many a time
the mad seem to know things hidden from men in
th e i r rig h t minds? (p. 225)
Kankam denounces Edufa not only for cowardice--as in the Pheres/
Admetus co n frontation--but for lack of "truthfulness" and fo r consort
ing with the powers of e v il:
Were you not a f ra id , being husband and fa th e r,
th a t someone dear to your blood might be the one
to make th e fa ta l oath over th a t powerful charm
you demanded and become i t s victim? (p. 224)
49
This re in te rp re ta tio n of a w ife 's dying for her husband in terms of a
powerful charm, which consigns to death anyone who casually rep lie s in
the affirm ative to Edufa's question of a s u b s titu te death, may seem a
■ \ 22
' d eft cultural adjustment. But i t is more than th a t; ra th e r,
Sutherland is plumbing the depths of the l i t e r a l story for i t s
symbolic p o s s ib ilitie s in terms of a tra d itio n a l African idea; or, to
put i t another way, she is both natu ralizin g and Africanizing the
original Western folk mystery. The supernatural elements la te n t in
the Euripidean story are reta in e d , but they are f il t e r e d through the
prism of charms and counter charms and formalized through the power
of the spoken word. The idea of the spoken/unspoken word is also
s ig n ific a n t in Euripides, th a t i s , in A lc e s tis 1 alleged obligation to
be s il e n t a f te r her return from death. Again we get a b rie f insight
into one of those analogies ( lin g u is tic , l i t e r a r y , moral) which
explain the African w r ite r 's sense of a f f i n i t i e s with the tr ib a l/o r a l
p a ra lle ls in ancient Greek c u ltu re . The r e s u lt is often r e in te rp r e ta
tio n —in Sutherland's case, the d e fin itio n of m aterialism and worldly
wisdom as death, and, by extension, Edufa's consorting with evil
charms as i t s e l f a death. Thus, Sutherland compels the audience to
consider "the fundamental problem of a modern Ghanaian seeking s h e lte r
under tra d itio n a l sanctions whose potency has been reduced by
23
modernism."
S u p erficially the purpose of the notorious endings of
Euripides '^ tra g e d ie s—a deus ex machina appears a t the end and cuts
the knot which cannot be untied and with one stroke resolves everythin?
50
to the s a tis fa c tio n of a l l - - i s to bring the audience back to the
tra d itio n a l story. Euripides, though bound to the received version
of the A lcestis sto ry , nevertheless uses the deus ex machina in such a
way as to make the u n reality of the happy solution increasingly
obvious. Consequently, as von F ritz observes, "the co n trast between
the 'i d e a l i s t i c ' optimism of the ta le and the cutting realism with
which the poet tr e a ts the mythical situ a tio n in the main body of the
play becomes fa r stronger than i f he had altered the tra d itio n a l
24
ending."
In A lcestis the u n reality of a happy ending is d e lic a te ly
hinted a t by the fa c t th a t the beautiful Stranger remains dumb and
untouchable from the moment of her introduction by Heracles un til the
end of the play. I n i t i a l l y , Admetus is somewhat chagrined a t the
prospect of having a mute Stranger about:
ADMETUS: Tell me, why does she stand here not
speaking a word?
HERACLES: She is s t i l l consecrated to the gods
below. For three days, u n til she is
p u rifie d , you may not hear her voice.
(1146 f f . )
But HeraclesL assurance th a t the s tra n g e r's silence is merely tempor
ary only th in ly disguises "the im p o ssib ility , a f te r what has happened,
of the w ife's simply fa llin g into the arms of her husband and con-
25 ‘
tinuirig to love him as though everything were n o r m a l . \ Admetus,
!
a f te r a l l , has broken a ll oaths of lo y a lty , rep u d iated ‘A lc e s tis , and
trie d to get the new, veiled g irl into his bed without e ith e r public
c ritic is m and/or c ritic is m from Death.
51
ADMETUS: Two voices would cry reproach a t me:
one from the c ity , "He has betrayed the
wife who saved him, flying to another
woman's arms"; and one from the grave,
her voice . . . I must be very careful . . .
(1057 f f . )
The glaring discrepancy between the plot and the apparently happy
ending shows th at the external solution is grotesque and "a scatching
c ritic is m of A lc e s tis 1 s a c r if ic e , Admetus1 h o s p ita lity , and the
2fi
m iracle which has occurred."
The form and e f fe c t of Edufa indicate th a t Sutherland under
stood the "unreality" of Euripides'5 happy ending quite w ell. E lio t,
i t will be re c a lle d , favored the tra d itio n a l "happy" ending in The
Cocktail P arty . He attempted to re in te rp re t A lcestis in such a way
th a t the external solution could be real to a modern audience. But
Sutherland, looking a t the momentum of her own play up to th is point,
undoubtedly saw th a t the Euripidean type of ironic happy ending could
not possibly be j u s t i f i e d by what preceded i t . Senchi cannot serve
as a deus ex machina because any arrangements he might make could not
be taken as real by the audience. And Edufa, by re je c tin g the t r a d i
tional avenues of evil purgation and by clinging to his precious charm
u n til the end, cannot undergo some sudden conversion th a t w ill e ffe c t
Ampoma's release from the curse. Any kind-of happy reunion would
c e rta in ly not have harmonized with the tra g ic character of the play,
which depends precisely on the nature of the re la tio n sh ip which has
come to lig h t between the married couple—on Edufa's side love e x ists
only to serve his crass s e lf in t e r e s t , never, as with Ampoma, in the
52
form of s e lf le s s s a c rif ic e . So Sutherland, ra th e r than "rewrite"
Euripides!s happy ending--as E lio t had done in The Cocktail P arty--
chose to l e t her own play follow the logic of her s a t i r i c realism.
At the end of Edufa, then, Ampoma is "under Death's authority"
(as A lcestis had been before Heracles rescued her). But, whereas
Heracles "fought with Death" to bring back A lcestis from the Under
world, Edufa has no such option. Ampoma has, in e f fe c t, married Death
in'much the same way Antigone had done in Sophocles' drama (Vide:
Antigone, 758 f f . ) . Edufa is rendered quite helpless and hopeless in
the face of his own emptiness as a person. He has been the sp iritu a l
void and d ire c t cause of Ampoma's death, ra th e r than the victim of i t .
Hence, he is u tte rly defeated by his dearth of moral resources to f i l l
the physical void re su ltin g from Ampoma's death. E a rlie r he had
boasted, " If I must be condemned, l e t me not be charged for any will
to k i l l , but for my fa ilu r e to create a fa ith " (Act I, scene iv ,
p. 229). He has fa ile d on both counts. The f u t i l i t y of his s itu a tio n
causes him to go mad and, in an ironic reversal of Heracles' b a ttle
with Death, Edufa c a lls fo r his leopard skin—Heracles had done b a ttle
in his lion skin--perhaps to give him a bravery he does not possess
within himself. He then proclaims his in tention to fig h t with Death
and reclaim Ampoma:
Death, I w ill l i e closely a t the grave again, and
when you come gloating with your sp o il, I ' l l grab
you, unlock her from your g rip, and bring her
safely home to my bed. And until then, no woman's
hand shall touch me. (p. 267)
____________________________________________________________________________________ 53
Senchi is powerless, a t th is p oint, e ith e r to comfort or re s tr a in
Edufa and so his early resemblance to Heracles is e ffe c tiv e ly d isp elled
Edufa, on the other handa h a s a t once become a sham Heracles and the
logical extension of Admetus who, i t will be re c a lle d , had also vowed
to remain c e lib a te :
HERACLES: What? Not marry? Are you going to
liv e a widower? Do you think th a t will
do A lcestis any good?
ADMETUS: I must honor her, wherever she is .
HERACLES: You are rig h t, most rig h t; but you
w ill be called a fool. (1089 f f .)
There i s , however, an even more devastating co n trast with the Orpheus
myth in Edufa's fin a l boast. This, too, is traceable to A lc e s tis .
Ju st before A lc e s tis '5 death, Admetus assures her th a t i f he had the
song of Orpheus he would not h e s ita te to descend a f te r her to the
underworld:
. . . music to beguile Pluto or Persephone, I
would descend now and bring you back from the
dead; Charon should not bar me, nor the watch
dog of h e ll, but I should raise you liv in g to the
lig h t. (360 f f . )
Orpheus, of course, concerned with saving his own skin, did not succeed
in leading Euridice out of the underworld. In comparing himself to
Orpheus, Admetus not only forgot the myth; he fa ile d to recognize th a t
27
he resembled Orpheus only in his cowardice. Sutherland tre a ts
Edufa's boast to rescue Ampoma iro n ic a lly ; i t is obviously d erivative
of Admetus' assurance to A lcestis and thus becomes a perverse tw ist of
the Orpheus myth i t s e l f . The s e lfis h love of Edufa, concerned with
________________________________________________________________________54_
sustaining his own l i f e , is once again contrasted with the heroic love
of Ampoma and, by extension, with th a t of A lcestis fo r Admetus. Plato,
in a d id actic version of the Orpheus myth in the Symposium,, comments
th a t the gods punished Orpheus "because he had no s p i r i t ; . . . and
did not dare, lik e A lc e stis, to die for love, but was contriving how he
28
might e n ter Hades aliv e . . . The gods have punished Edufa for
exactly the same reason and, lik e Orpheus, he contrives to enter Hades
a liv e . Thus, the Orpheus myth in Edufa is c arried one step fu rth e r
than i t is in A lcestis while s t i l l retain in g the same s e lf-d e stru c tiv e
or self-mocking q u a litie s Euripides intended.
Edufa ends not with a laugh but with-Tamburlaine-like bombast.
He boasts, "the l a s t laugh will be mine when I bring her home again /'1
but his words ring hollow. His laugh is in a future the audience knows
will never occur. Edufa is fin ish e d , ruined through his destruction
of Ampoma, and caught in his own web of in trig u e , s e lfish n e ss , and
crass materialism. His schemes have a ll gone awry and he is l e f t only
with a madman's illu s io n . "I am conqueror!" he shouts, and then
repeats the term as a p a th e tic , questioning lament: "Conqueror . . .?"
W e do not experience the tra g ic sense of fear a t Edufa's collapse, as
we do a t the end of O thello, because Edufa is not a great and good
man with a tra g ic flaw. He is pusillanimous, lik e Orpheus, whom the
gods punished. W e do feel p ity , however, but our p ity is for Ampoma,
the good and doting wife who becomes the victim of Edufa's unsavory
dabbling in w itch craft.
55
The ending of Edufa, then, is not gentle. I t is quite
"b ru ta l," as Ogunba suggests, even "scathing," as Kott says A lcestis
i s , but for d iffe re n t reasons. Like Admetus, Edufa is weak, he f a i ls
his w ife, but he is also human and wants to liv e . W e are led to
understand the impossible predicament Edufa has got himself in to , and
so cannot/dismiss him out of hand. What is brutal is th a t Sutherland
f
presents his predicament as the sole e f fe c t of his gross se lfish n e ss.
By c o n tra st, Admetus is a more ambiguous fig u re. His predicament in
A lcestis is largely the r e s u lt of fa te . Admetus' selfishness/cow ardice
exacerbates his problem. In Edufa these fa u lts a c tu a lly p re c ip ita te
the i n i t i a l c r i s i s and trig g e r the d islo catio n of tra d itio n a l values.
Wesley D. Smith suggests th a t in Euripides' ending there is
scorn of the A lcestis myth and " its ta c it, injunction to put one's
29
f a ith in the unexpected, the u n r e a lis tic ." Sutherland not only
s a ti r i z e s the A lcestis myth, but also exposes the modern Ghanaian
tendency to hedge one's b e ts, th a t i s , to p it one form of metaphysical
persuasion, w itc h c ra ft, against the tra d itio n a l b e lie f in cosmic,
supernatural forces.
To look a t Edufa ste a d ily in the lig h t of A lcestis is to see
refracted some of i t s contours a l i t t l e more c le a rly (and, conversely,
the Sutherland play provides a perspective from which one can discern
p o t e n t i a l i t ie s , perhaps unsuspected, in Euripide's play). By examin
ing only the evidence of the plays themselves, i t is obvious th a t
Sutherland has seized upon thematic m aterial la te n t in A lcestis and
dram tically explored i t fu rth e r, re in te rp re te d i t , and enlarged i t
56
within a Ghanaian s e ttin g . She may even have got a hin t about t r a d i
tional parody from the overall tone of A1cestis and then, as she does
with theme and c h aracter, gone markedly beyond her original model.
Edufa, while not so d i f f i c u l t to c la s s if y as A lc e s tis , is
30 1
nevertheless puzzling. Sutherland, in te re stin g ly enough, is careful
not to label her play e ith e r comedy or tragedy, though in the ruin of
Edufa through the d estruction of Ampoma i t s tra g ic q u a lity is plain.
Perhaps we should take our cue from her and eschew questions of
a e s t h e t ic /c r i t i c a l d e fin itio n s as such. D efinitive arguments about
the nature of tragedy or comedy per se are less s ig n if ic a n t in Suther
land than are questions about the s tru c tu re of her play and the r e
latio n sh ip between th a t structure--considered a e s th e tic a lly as well as
morally—and her social stru c tu re s around her ch aracters. In one
sense, to ra ise an analogous rath er than s t r i c t l y relevant issu e, we
could argue th a t one important e ffe c t of Euripides' ironic use of the
deus ex machina device, and his subversive treatment of the dramatic
ending in A 1cestis, is p recisely the questioning of conventional
tendencies in which plays had to be w ritte n , performed and c r itic iz e d
within some pre-defined category. Euripides was trying to do some
thing more, or something d iff e r e n t from, what his contemporaries were
doing, but y e t with an im plication of social s a tir e where there is a
mixture of the d ra m a tist's perception of the nature of th e a tre and i t s
re la tio n sh ip to so cie ty . Sutherland, as we have indicated e a r l i e r ,
in h erited the th e m atic/stru ctu ral im plications of Euripides' play and
fused them with her own compositional theory of "new discovery":
57
There are a ll so rts of exciting things to venture
and I take a deep breath and venture fo rth . . . .
I am on a journey of discovery. I'm discovering
my own people.31
V
In th is sense th e a tre becomes an exploration of the d ra m a tist's
cultural tra d itio n s in re la tio n to the h is to ric a l tra d itio n out of
which the contemporary experience grew. But the h isto ric a l tra d itio n
for Sutherland in Edufa is a mesh of Euripidean them atic/social explor
ation and Ghanaian tra d itio n s of oral l i t e r a t u r e , communal ritu a l and
folk drama. This is what gives Edufa both i t s dramatic d e fin itio n and
i t s central perspective.
58
CHAPTER I FOOTNOTES
Kirk von F r itz , "The Happy Ending of A lc e s tis ," in Euripides 1
A lcestis: Collection of C ritic a l Essays (reprinted from Antike und
moderne Tragodie, neun Abhandlugen (B erlin, 1962), edited by John R.
Wilson (Englewood C lif f s , N.J.: P ren tice -H all, 1968), p. 83.
p
Huxley's Time Must Have a Stop and Hesse's Siddhartha should
also be mentioned here since both are based on monistic th eo ries of
reincarnation which simultaneously recognize the experience of human
suffering and deny i t s ultim ate r e a lity . See Hazel E. Barnes, "Greek
Tragicomedy," The Classical Jo u rn a l, LX (1964-1965), 125-131.
O
T. S. E lio t, "Poetry and Drama," in On Poetry and Poets (New
York: F arrar, Straus and Cuday, 1957), p. 91.
^Robert B. Heilman, "A lcestis and The Cocktail P a rty ," in
Euripides' A lcestis: Collection of C ritic a l Essays, p. 93.
5
William Arrowsmith, "'Conversion' in Euripides," in
Euripides' A lcestis: Collection of C ritic a l Essays, p. 33.
John R. Wilson, "Introduction," Euripides' A lcestis:
Collection of C ritic a l Essays, p. 13.
^Lloyd W . Brown, "Sutherland and Aidoo: The Theatre as Tradi
tio n ," Paper delivered a t the U niversity of Ibadan, Nigeria (July
1976), p. 7.
Q
All quotations from A lc e s tis , unless otherwise s ta te d , are
taken from Philip V e lla c o tt's tra n sla tio n in Euripides: Three Plays
(Harmondsworth, Middlesex, England: Penguin Books, L td ., 1972),
p. 130. C itations from Edufa are from Efua T. Sutherland, Edufa, in
Plays from Black A fric a , edited by FredricM . L itto (New York: Hill
and Wang, 1968), p. 229.
g
Brown, p. 4.
^Wesley D. Smith, "The Ironic Structure of A lc e s tis ," in
Wilson, p. 38.
59
11
Heilman points out th a t E lio t also uses th is device in his
adaptation (See Heilman, "A lcestis and The Cocktail P a rty , p. 94).
Whether the "many guests" device is original with Sutherland or whether
she got i t from E lio t is a moot point.
12
Horst (U lli) Beier, Sacred Wood Carvings from One Small
Yoruba Town (Lagos African U niversities Press, 1957), p. 10. See
also: Ulli Beier, "The Egungun Cult," Nigeria 51 (1956), p. 383.
13
Andre Malraux, Les Voix du Silence (P aris: Gallimard, 1951),
p. 563.
14
Janheinz Jahn, Muntu: The New African Culture (New York:
Grove Press, In c ., 1961), p. 170.
15
Paul Bohannan and Philip Curtin, Africa and Africans
(Garden City, N.Y.: The Natural History Press, 1971), p. 85.
1 ft
Wole Soyinka, Myth, L iteratu re and^the African World
(Cambridge: Cambridge U niversity Press, 1976), p. 34.
17
Wesley D. Smith, "The Ironic Structure of A lc e s tis ,"
The Phoenix, XIV (1960), p. 140.
1 ft
In the plays of Euripides, generally, the chorus was
assigned the role of "merely making incidental music between the
scenes." This was a change from the Sophoclean p ractice where the
chorus is a character and takes an important role in the action of the
play. Its function was "to mark the stages of the tra g ic action and
to perform the suffering and perceiving p art of the tra g ic rhythm."
I t did th is through the choral odes which were intended to be danced
and sung. See Francis Fergusson, The Idea of a Theatre (Garden City,
N.Y.: Doubleday Anchor Books, 1953), p. 42.
In glossing his d e fin itio n o f tragedy A ris to tle explains
(Poetics VI, 3), "By 'language embellished' I mean language into
which rhythm, 'harmony,' and song e n te r." Fergusson suggests th a t
th is statement "must re fe r to the Odes with t h e i r musical accompani
ment. . . . W e [also] know from A r is to tle 's remarks on Mousike, which
includes both music and ly ric verse (in his P o e tic s , V III), th a t he
thought the modes of Mousike im itated the modes of action with singular
directness and intimacy." See Francis Fergusson, "Introduction,"
A r is to tle 's Poetics (New York: Hill and Wang, 1961), p. 17.
60
19
Dudley F itts and Robert F itzg erald , t r a n s ., The Oedipus Cycle
of Sophocles (New York: Harcourt, Brace and World, 1955), p. 10.
20
Fergusson, Idea of a T heatre, p. 44.
21
Kankam re fers to these tr a d it i o n a l , trib a l remedies in
his heated exchange with Edufa ( I , iv ):
W hy were you not content, lik e a ll of us, to purge
your soul by o ffering g if ts of cola and white calico
to the needy, and s a c rific in g a chicken or a sheep
o r, since you can afford i t , a cow. (p. 224)
Later, however, he speaks of raisin g "the prayer of our souls together"
(p. 226) to counter the power of the charm, and " . . . our remedy is
more probable in the paths of prayer" (p. 228). The unbeatable combin
ation of prayer and s a c rif ic e is p recisely what Edufa r e je c ts .
22
Wesley D. Smith, in "The Ironic Structure of A lcestis"
(op. c i t . ) , makes an in te re stin g point here concerning Euripides'
theme of house and family. A lc e stis, he says, "dies fo r her home," as
much as for her husband. He continues, "Not the personal re la tio n sh ip
with her husband or d istin c tio n s of breeding, but her re la tio n sh ip s
with the home which includes her husband is what we are to ld moves
A lc e s tis , and is what she ta lk s about" (p.’ 47).
Although Ampoma expresses the same concern for leaving her
children motherless as does A lc e stis, she, nevertheless, dies so lely
to honor her pledge (Edufa, p. 218). This is why Sutherland has
deleted A lc e stis' farewell to hearth and household scene (lin es 192 f f .
as reported by the maidservant, and concentrated on Ampoma's s a c rif ic e
as surrogate d ie r for Edufa.
23
Oyin Ogunba, "Modern Drama in West A frica," in Perspectives
on African L ite r a tu r e , edited by Christopher Heywood (London: Heinman
Educational Books, L td., 1971), p. 98.
' <-_Kirk von F itz , p. 80. D. M . Jones, "Euripides' A lc e stis,"
The C lassical Review, LXII (1948), 50-55, p o sits the theory th a t the
plo t of A lcestis is "in o rigin a F a iry -ta le rath er than a heroic ta le .
. . . In the f a i r y - t a l e two worlds on d iffe re n t levels are brought in
contact with each other . . . Euripides chose to develop the human
side of the sto ry ."
25
Kirk von F r itz , p. 81.
61
2^Jan Kott, "The Veiled A lc e s tis ," in The Eating of the Gods
(New York: Vintage Press, 1974), p. 101.
2 7 Kott, p. 95.
B. Jowett, t r a n s ., The Dialogues of P la to , I (179-d) (New
York: Random House, In c ., 1937), p. 308.
Suzie Q. Groden in a more recent version of th is passage
renders P la to 's words thus:
[The gods] allowed him the shade of the woman for
whom he had come but did not give her up, because
he showed himself weak--he played the c ith e ra —and
lacking in the courage to die for his love, the way
A lcestis had done, for he contrived to get down to
Hades while s t i l l aliv e .
The operative clauses are "because he showed no s p i r i t "
(Jowett) and "because he showed himself weak" (Groden). Groden's
tra n s la tio n implies a moral dimension to Orpheus' a c t, whereas
Jow ett's rendering is more.in lin e with A r i s t o t l e 's idea of e n erg eia,
i . e . , the motive "to do" something. See The Symposium of P la to ,
tra n sla te d by Suzy Q. Groden, edited by Joahan A. Brentlinger (Boston:
The U niversity of Massachusetts Press, 1970).
29
Smith, p. 56.
30 “
A lcestis has withstood c la s s if ic a tio n by uneasy scholars
since i t s inception. I t has been lab elled variously as romantic
comedy, comic melodrama, and even an ti-trag ed y . One D im itir Gotseff
has neatly termed the play "comedy with tra g ic r e l i e f . " The problem
of pinpointing the p la y 's elusive form, however, lie s in i t s almost
daring f l i r t a t i o n with tragedy. Kott seems to have come up with the
best solution in respect of the p la y 's internal ambiguity as a s tr u c
ture. Following the lines of Mercury's address to the audience in
Plautus' Amphitryon (52 f f . ) , Kott reads A lcestis f i r s t as a tragedy
and then as a comedy "without one word being changed." He concludes
his remarks with th is statement: "Apart from The Bacchae . . .
A lcestis is the only Greek drama in which one can find the s tru c tu re
of ritu a l which, according to the Cambridge school of anthropology
(Jane Harrison and G ilbert Murray), is also the 'deep form' of
tragedy." Kott, pp. 105-106.
J52
31
African Writers Talking: A C ollection of Radio Interview s,
edited by Cosmo P ieterse and Dennis Duerden (New York: Africana
Publishing Corp., 1972), 188-189.
63
CHAPTER II
SONG OF A GOAT: IJAW TRADITION A N D
THE HELLENIC/SYMPHONIC EQUATION
Song of a Goat was f i r s t presented (in a production by Wole
Soyinka) a t Sbadan's Mbari Center, Nigeria. The story is simple and
d ire c t. Z ifa, described by Clark as "a fisherman and part-tim e ship
p ilo t a t one of the Niger e s tu a rie s ," is unable to s ir e any children
by his w ife, Ebiere, a f t e r the b irth of th e i r single son. The implica
tio n is th a t her barrenness is the r e s u lt of a curse on Z ifa 's family.
A ctually, i t is Zifa who is sexually crip p led , though he blames the
s t e r i l i t y on his wife and sends her to the crippled v illa g e Masseur--
a "d octor"--for help. Encouraged by the Masseur's suggestion th a t she
allow Zifa to provide a surrogate, Ebiere seduces her husband's younger
brother Tonya. The enraged and humiliated Zifa f i r s t causes the
death of Tonya by his own hand and then destroys himself by walking
out to sea. Ebiere has a "miscarriage" and, as is subsequently
revealed in The Masquerade, a companion play, dies in the premature
b irth . Behind a ll the action of Song of a Goat is the powerful figure
of Z ifa 's "half possessed" aunt, Orukorere, the Cassandra of the play.
She f o r e te lls the horror th a t is to overtake Z ifa 's family, and, with
the chorus of neighbors, acts as commentator on the tragedy.
M
Thus we have, in th is play, the kind of dramatic s itu a tio n
th a t can be e a sily tra n sla te d into the parochial and ephemeral terms
of modern domestic melodrama. I t has about i t some of the elements
one uncomfortably asso ciates with American daytime soap opera. There
i s , for instance, the sacrosanct idea of the family u n it and i t s
e ssen tial cohesiveness. There i s , too, the underlying sexual theme
with i t s overtones of in c e s t—the forbidden f r u i t taboo. The puzzle
surrounding the h ero's a f f l i c t i o n and motivation is present also: Is
Zifa impotent or in f e r t i l e ? And does i t m atter, in the long run,
whether he is or not? The dramatis personnae read lik e a casting
d ir e c to r 's dream: a grand m atriarch, Orukorere, wringing her hands in
th e a tric a l agony a t every tw ist and turn of the p lo t; a c ra fty old man,
the Masseur, who i s , in the play, family doctor, confessor, and
oracle; a young and neglected wife who becomes infatuated with her
brother-in-law . And f in a ll y , there is the dramatic action which
provides the working out of a family curse in r itu a l murder, revenge
and suicide.
To look a t C lark's play from th is alien angle of vision--modern
domestic melodrama—is to t r e a t C lark's drama as ordinary and common
place, an in te re stin g c u rio sity but s lig h tly absurd. C lark's plays
require for th e ir understanding, "a c r i ti c a l method which makes the
te x t the basis of in te rp re ta tio n and also requires c r i t i c s ' fa m ilia rity
with the original configuration or cultural conventions employed by
the playwright."'1 ' But the dramatic and cu ltu ra l conventions employed
by Clark are themselves "a synthesis of conventions and forms,"
65
representing both Western stage conventions and Ijaw tra d itio n s of
2
oral l i t e r a t u r e , communal r i t u a l , and folk drama. Thus, the m atter
of source and synthesis is a key one in any in te rp re ta tio n of C lark's
play. S ir Tyrone Guthrie in his essay on the a r t of th e a tre s ta te s ,
. . . cross f e r t i l i z a t i o n of th e a tric a l tra d itio n
is a s a lie n t aspect of th e a tric a l h isto ry . Probably
more than in other a r t s , each th e a tric a l sty le g
represents an amalgamation of diverse h eritages.
This aspect of Clark's work has been underscored by Martin Ess!in, who
was, perhaps, the f i r s t to point out the resemblance of C lark's plays
to Aeschylus' O re stia . E sslin, however, professed to find C lark's
4
Song of a Goat "not quite convincing." Other c r i t i c s , following
E s s lin 's cue, have referred to the Aeschylean connection in one
sentence throw-away lin es and have then moved on to pursue th e ir own
specialized in te re s ts in r i t u a l , myth, language, or the Western tr a d i-
tion in c ritic is m . Clark him self, though admitting the influence of
c la ssic a l Greek tra g ed ies, has proved, lik e E lio t in respect of
A lc e s tis , vague on sp e c ific s:
I t ' s qu ite possible th a t Sophocles or Euripides
are in th a t play. I t ' s quite possible th a t the
Elizabethans are th e re , too. But th is business
of looking for sources can be misleading . . .
the influences may be th e re , but there are co
incidences, too, because we are a ll human beings
with the same basic emotions and experiences . 6
Despite C lark's E lio t-lik e ambiguity as to sources—and he indicates
there may have been se v e ra l--th e re are certa in "coincidences" (sic)
in Song of a Goat which link i t them atically and s tr u c tu r a lly with
Aeschylus' Agamenon, though there are also echoes of Euripides
(Hippolytus) , Sophocles (Ajax and Antigone), and Shakespeare (Macbeth)
66
and King Lear). M y purpose a t the moment, however, is not to
illum inate the fu ll range of Clark's Western i n t e l l e c t u a l / a r t i s t i c
heritage. For the controversial subject of p a ra lle ls/in flu e n c e s over
an au th o r's work can be one long semantic rab b it-h o le down which any
curious Alice can e a s ily lose her o rie n ta tio n . C lark's l i t e r a r y
antecedents may be made a l i t t l e c le a re r, however, by considering how
the stru c tu re of C lark's drama is derived from the symphonic mode.
One of the f i r s t things one notices about Song of a Goat is i t s
physical div isio n into "movements" ra th e r than into the tra d itio n a l
Western ac ts. Movements per se are un iv ersally associated with dance
and/or, in the West, with symphonic s tru c tu re . Why does Clark do th is?
Symphonies are not an indigenous African (Ijaw) a r t form, whereas songs
are. This is s t i l l evident in Ijaw customs. Anthropologists t e l l us,
for example, th a t the Ijaw have a t le a s t two dozen d iffe re n t types of
social music, including songs for beer drinking, w restlin g , war homage
to a c h ie f, hunting, harvesting and general work songs; songs sung a t
the b irth of a child or to admonish erring members of the so cie ty , to
recount a successful animal hunt or to deride Europeans, songs of
death and vulgar songs.^ So i t is no accident th a t Clark t i t l e s his
play Song of a Goat, thus endowing i t with a double reference a t once
both Ijaw and Western. (Greek drama is said to have originated in the
goat song, tra g o ld ia ). There can be l i t t l e doubt, too, th a t Clark,
from the o u tse t, wants his audience to hear and understand the
orchestral e ffe c ts of his drama; otherwise, why w rite in verse and why
label the p la y 's d ivisions "movements?" There is one other p o ssib ility .
67
v i z ., th a t Clark sees his play in terms of the "sexual dance" movements
("A lia") of the Rivers people in t h e i r tra d itio n a l plays and masquer-
O
ades. Since the movements in the d iffe re n t kinds of dances are
accompanied by song and are meant to portray the daily experiences of
Ijaw l i f e , i t is safe to conjecture th a t Clark has used th is asso cia
tion to a ffe c t our perception of tragedy within a Western framework.
In order to anchor th is concept of musical movement i t is necessary a t
th is juncture to make a few b r ie f remarks concerning the Western
concept of symphonic movement before examining i t s use in an Ijaw
s e ttin g .
The word "Symphony" comes from the Greek, and means merely a
9
"sounding to g eth er." What are sounded together in a symphony are
orchestral instruments fo r "the expression of the most profound
emotions. " * 0 The form i t s e l f evolved out of the "Sonata" ( I t . "sonata*
past p a rt, of the verb sonare, "to sound") in l a t e eighteenth and
early nineteenth century Europe. The major developments in the
"sonata form" by Hayden, Mozart and Beethoven made possible a new kind
of "drama" in instrumental works. 11 The baroque composers who pre
ceded these giants had usually explored only a sin g le theme, as in the
fugue. With the sonata, however, a composer could c reate dramatic
situ a tio n s by p ittin g themes ag ain st one another, much as a playwright
does on stage with the clash of ch aracters.
The opening "act" in sonata form, called the expo sitio n , begins
with the entrance in a given key of the f i r s t theme,"the hero." Then
the contrasting second theme, "the heroine," enters in a d iffe re n t key,
68
In the second a c t, the development, the themes are amplified and th e ir
in te ra c tio n explored in y e t other keys. In the l a s t a c t, the recap itu
la tio n , the themes return in modified form, but both are in the o r i
g in al, or exposition key of the "heroic" f i r s t theme.
Beethoven, whom we usually think of as a musical revolutionary
d e fia n tly shaking his f i s t a t fa te (ananke) , considered himself an
instrumental dram atist. He found ample vent for his often v iolent
emotions in the symphonic form which called fo r several contrasted
moods (in the d iff e r e n t movements). Four movements may, from the days
of Beethoven, be said to be normal in Western symphonic s tru c tu re ,
though there are very many exceptions. Beethoven's order is usually
the following:
1. Quick extended movements (allegro) in "Sonata Form."
2. Slower or more song-like movement, usually deeply expressive.
3. Minuet or scherzo ("jokes," l i t e r a l l y a musical j e s t ) .
4. Extended rondo or movement in sonata form--rapid and liv e ly .
This scheme, i t w ill be seen, is u tiliz e d somewhat loosely by Clark in
Song of a Goat to give visual shape to what in Beethoven would be
musical a b stra c tio n s; i t enables him to express several ideas of his
cu ltu re through the fusion of African and Western musical modes.
Unlike the nineteenth century symphony composers, however, Clark does
not u t i l i z e orchestral instruments to carry out his harmonies and
contrapuntal ideas. Instead he s u b stitu te s the tra d itio n a l dramatic
devices th a t characterized the Greek stage: c o n flic tin g personages,
thematic c o n tra st and in te ra c tio n , cyclic imagery and dramatic
69
p a r a lle l. These devices have also been u tiliz e d in the Rivers plays
of the Ijaw people from the second h a lf of the seventeenth century
„ 13
on.
F ir s t Movement
The opening movement in Song of a Goat, begins with the
entrance of "the heroine," Ebiere, who is consulting the Masseur about
her in a b ility to conceive for three years ("three floods"). This is a
reversal of the "sonata form" where the exposition begins with the
entrance in a given key of the f i r s t theme. In th is play the " f i r s t
theme" is Z ifa 's i n f e r t i l i t y . The Masseur, "crippled and itin e r a n t,"
is described in the dramatis personnae as a s o rt of family doctor,
confessor and oracle. Ebiere is following what is the popular Ijaw
method fo r inducing pregnancy, viz., v is itin g a masseur (i y o l o l i )--
referred to as a "presser" by English-speaking Ijaw --to have her womb
14
put into position by vio len t kneading and tw isting. Apparently, the
Masseur has already gone through these prelim inaries fo r he announces
th a t E biere's womb "Is open and warm as a room./ I t ought to accommo
date many." Later she w ill demand: "Take your crooked hands o ff me,"
in dicating the nature o f the Masseur's physical m in istra tio n s. What
is iro n ic about th is meeting is th a t i t is not Ebiere who is barren
but her husband, Z ifa, who is im p o te n t/in fe rtile and who has sent her
to the Masseur.
" I t is not my fault," she says. "I keep my house / Open by
night and day / But my lord will not come in" (p. 75). The abundance
of sexual imagery, which continues throughout the play, is couched in
70
domestic terminology. By d eft questioning of his p a tie n t, the Masseur
e s ta b lish e s:
1. That i t is Zifa and not Ebiere who is a t f a u lt.
2. That the cause of the couple's d if f ic u lty is not u n faithfulness:
Masseur: Has he a house elsewhere?
Ebiere: No.
3. That Zifa is not j u s t impotent but i n f e r t i l e :
Masseur: To think th a t a s to u t s t a f f [penis] /
Is there for you to hold on to for support.
Ebiere: For a ll i t s stoutness and size
There j u s t i s n ' t a pith [sperm] to the sto u t s ta f f .
4. That Z ifa 's conjugal abstience is due, not to consideration
for Ebiere's f i r s t d i f f i c u l t b ir th , but to some other reason.
There is also a note of tra g ic a n tic ip a tio n in the Masseur's
remark th a t an empty womb is a potential source of danger:
Masseur: If men w ill not liv e in i t
Bats or grass w ill, and th a t is enough
Signal fo r worse things to come in. (p. 75)
The mention o f "bats" and "grass" is not a gratuitous aside by the
Masseur. I t is a d ire c t reference to the world of s p i r i t s , to fa te
and i t s fu lfillm e n t. In th is respect Philip Leis remarks,
To deal with severe i l l n e s s , barrenness, sorcery,
th e f t and bad luck, the Ijaw turn fo r help to the
nearby local d e itie s (orumo) . They reside in the
fo re s t and in the r iv e rs , o r, by th e ir own v o litio n ,
in human communities. An oru discloses i t s presence
by making a person i l l or by coming to him in a
dream. These vents are in te rp re te d by a d iviner to
be signs th a t an oru wishes to be se rv e d .15
The Masseur's reference to bats and grass indicates th a t Ebiere may
have already asked for protection from the orumo, the sign of which is
71
usually in the form of a sh aft of grass tie d in a special way and l e f t
in fu ll view on the protected property. In th is case, the protected
property is E biere's womb. Should the bats and grass en ter E biere's
"house" i t w ill sig n ify th a t th is powerful d e te rre n t to an tiso c ia l
behavior, v iz., the protection of the orumo, has been removed. Her fa te
will be sealed and " fo re st things" (bouyei) will take over. One might
say also th a t the Masseur surveys Ebiere with a jaundiced eye. To her
p ro te st th a t she has not denied Zifa his conjugal rights--"My house
has i t s door open, I said "—he re p lie s : "I can see th a t. Too open I
ra th e r Fear. Draught may se t in any time / Now" (p. 75). In other
words, her physical appearance is somewhat sexually provocative.
Frustrated by her husband's lack of i n t e r e s t , Ebiere confesses th a t
she "turns [her] face to the wall" which the Masseur says is "The sign
of death." Once the p a rtic u la rs of the case are out in the open both
the Masseur and Ebiere become quite concerned about what the neighbors
will think. They thereby introduce the cloud of secrecy which hangs
over the e n tire play.
Ebiere: Oh, how I wish I 'd d ie , to end all
This shame, a ll th is showing of neighbors my
Fatness when my flesh is famished.
Masseur: This is t e r r i b l e , my daughter, nobody
Must hear of i t .
Barrenness or s t e r i l i t y in Ijaw society is no laughing matter
fo r i t creates an in fe rio r sta tu s for a person during his life tim e and
even a f t e r death. Both parents are believed to contribute equally to
the conception of a child. As one anthropologist reminds us, "Pro
creation has p a rtic u la r sig n ifian ce to the Ijaw because they do not
72
p ractice adoption; the functions of biological and social p atern ity
are in sep arab le ."'*'6 This is one reason why both the Masseur and
Ebiere wish to keep the situ a tio n q u iet. A barren woman lik e Ebiere is
continually open to in s u lts and gossip as to the causes of her mis
f o r t u n e . ^ Since Ebiere has already had a child by Zifa and divorce is
no longer an easy option, these critic ism s will be forthcoming to an
18
even greater extent than i f she were simply c h ild le ss . The Ijaw
believe th a t some men and women simply do not mix well and th is often
leads to "unrelenting c ritic a l: comments." Such a n ticip ated c ritic is m
ra ise s the second reason for d isc re e t handling of the s t e r i l i t y issue,
viz,,, Ebiere is a "big-dowry wife" (fe e r e , purchased woman). Zifa has
gone outside his clan to marry for reasons which are only hinted a t
la t e r in the play. The bride price in big-dowry marriages can be more
than ten times the amount paid in small-dowry (within the clan)
marriages. But money is only a minor consideration in these marriages:
In a big-dowry marriage the husband acquires
domestic, sexual, and a ll economic rig h ts in
his wife. A man gains p restig e by marrying in
th is way, but most im portantly, he obtains a ll
rig h ts to his ch ild ren , and they are members of
his own descent groups. The wife sim ila rly
a f f i l i a t e s with his kinsmen and severs a ll t i e s
with her own. She must receive her farmland from
her husband, and t h e i r children will in h e r it from
him ra th e r than from her brother ( i . e . , u tin erin e
k in s h ip ).19
In sum, the functions of biological and social p a te rn ity are a t stake
here. Zifa w ill be doubly shamed by being reminded he has but one
child from his big-dowry wife. I t is in te re stin g in th is connection
73
th a t in Ijaw the term of reference for a barren woman or one past
menopause is ZIFA.
One solution to E biere's dilemma presents i t s e l f to the Masseur.
i . e . , surrogate p atern ity :
Masseur: Well, your gates are in ta c t
As th e ir keeper cannot even touch them.
Someone has to go in or they w ill take ru st. (p. 76)
Ebiere objects on the grounds th a t Zifa has been good to her and she
wonders how both Z ifa 's people and her own will take such a suggestion.
The Masseur chides her for not le ttin g her people know e a r l i e r of the
situ a tio n :
There's no shame in th a t. Worse things
Have been seen before. Why even leopards / go lame. (p. 77)
This is the f i r s t reference to Zifa as leopard, an indication of the
stalk in g aspect of his ch aracter. The Masseur then suggests o u trig h t
th a t Zifa make Ebiere over "To another in his fam ily." Ebiere is
appalled by the suggestion since she is an a f f i l i a t e with Z ifa 's
kinsmen, but the Masseur pursues his solution with a d e fin ite choice
of surrogate:
He should make you over
To his younger brother. That will be a retying
Of knots, not breaking or loosening
of them. (p. 77)
Ebiere re c o ils in horror a t the suggestion of in c e s t,c a llin g i t "an
a c t of death, / I t is what the dead forbid you speak o f." Mention of
the dead here is crucial because i t in je c ts into the f i r s t movement a
subsidiary theme / layer of meaning th a t will run throughout the play,
v i z ., th a t c e rta in acts are forbidden by the v illa g e ancestors (opu
74
duwoiyou) . The Masseur reminds Ebiere th a t she is an o u tsid er and does
not "Know the ways of our land." S a c rific e will appease the dead, he
says, and negate the taboo against in cest:
Masseur: Blood of goat
So large a cowrie may pass through i t s nose,
Kola-nut s p l i t before the dead of
The land, and the deed is done. (p. 78)
Incensed, Ebiere leaves in a huff saying th a t i f she returns she will
be "As big a fool as Zifa" who sent her to the Masseur for "a cure he
knew was unnecessary." She pays the Masseur a fee despite the fa c t
th a t she has rejected his advice, thus indicating her suspicion th a t
Z ifa 's i n f e r t i l i t y is caused by one of the local d e itie s (orumo) and
th a t the Masseur, in his ro le of d iv in e r, has in te rp re te d the malady
20
as a sign th a t an oru wishes to be served.
E biere's e x it ends the heroine theme of the movement. Two key
characters have been presented, each s trik in g a discordant note on the
theme of Z ifa 's i n f e r t i l i t y : the Masseur suggesting surrogate paternity
and Ebiere recoiling from the idea of an incestuous re la tio n sh ip .
Despite her re je c tio n of the tra d itio n a l so lu tio n , the seed of
i n f i d e l i t y has nevertheless been implanted. Sexual a c t i v i t y , or i t s
lack, has twice been referred to in the negative terms of death, once
each by the Masseur and Ebiere. A veil of secrecy shrouds the pro
ceedings and fa te has made i t s ominous presence f e l t with the mention
of ritu a l taboos and s a c r if ic e s . The stigma of i n f e r t i l i t y —and i t s
consequences--is sounded as the f i r s t note in the tra g ic Song of a
Goat.
75
With the entrance of Zifa in the second h a lf of the f i r s t
movement, Clark will introduce his co n trastin g second theme, v i z ., the
curse m otif. The atmosphere continues to be one of ominous secrecy,
a secrecy th a t begins to pervade the actions of a ll the ch aracters.
Ebiere t r i e s to leave s u rre p titio u s ly but Zifa hears her s k i r t f l u t t e r
in the wind. He t e l l s the Masseur th a t even as he c a lle d , "Her fo o t
steps died out on the grass" (p. 78). The Masseur picks up the grass
idea and uses i t to probe Z ifa 's psyche. At f i r s t the Masseur feigns
ignorance of Z ifa 's re la tio n sh ip to Ebiere: "My son, are you the
husband of her who ran/Out now?" The question is obviously meant to be
rh eto rical because the Masseur immediately accuses Zifa of being
remiss in his conjugal duty to Ebiere:
You have allowed th is piece of f e r t i l e
Ground made over to you to run fallow
With elephant grass, (p. 78)
I n i t i a l l y , Zifa.pleads ignorance but then wonders whether his se c re t
is out--"Has she told you someting?"—thus admitting the re la tio n sh ip
between Ebiere and himself and underscoring his fears of exposure.
The Masseur uses mental reservation here, f i r s t lying o u trig h t: "Here,
son, the woman has told nothing," and then answering Z ifa 's queries
metaphorically:
Don't you see the e n tire grass is gone
Overlush, and with the harmattan may
Catch f i r e , through you spread over i t
Your cloak of dew. (p. 79)
In his interview with Ebiere the Masseur had spoken of "the morning
dew of l i f e " (p. 77) as concealing the real contour of the land. He
76
now subtly uses the same "dew" metaphor to s e t up the clockwise pro
gression of the surrogate p atern ity issue. But instead of the risin g
sun helping Ebiere to see the issue in i t s proper l i g h t , the Masseur
now uses the symbol of the harmattan wind to warn Zifa of the ultim ate
e f fe c t of his overprotective a ttitu d e : j u s t as the harmattan parches
th ro a ts and se ts nerves on edge, so the parched passions of the pro
tag o n ists will be fanned by sexual fru s tra tio n and madness will ensue.
He w ill use the image one more time before dropping i t in favor of
barnyard and a g ric u ltu ra l metaphors. But wind, f i r e and madness become
important metaphors in the p la y 's s tru c tu re of meaning; they are
constantly reintroduced as the c h aracters' moral destru ctio n mirrors
the ravages of nature. In the th ird movement, fo r in stan ce, Tonyci will
accuse Ebiere of being "mad" and she will reply th a t she is "crazed"
with passion (p. 103). And again, in the final movement, Zifa will
tr y to murder his brother, Tonyci, and the f i r s t neighbor will ask,
"What may have caused th is madness?" (p. 116).
Z ifa 's reply to the Masseur's wind and f i r e warning is one of
disdain fo r being talked to lik e a c h ild , the f i r s t indication of his
hubris. The Masseur chides him for not seeking help e a r l i e r . Z ifa 's
pride is hurt and lik e Ebiere his f i r s t concern is fo r his repu tatio n ;
he compares himself to a worm squirming in the mud, one s e t upon by
scavenger b irds. The Masseur t e l l s him, "All th is is f o lly ." There
follow several exchanges in which the Masseur reminds Zifa th a t in
such situ a tio n s men need help, th a t Z ifa, by fo o lish ly not seeking
help, is causing unnecessary suffering to his wife and leaving her open
77
to the temptations of spring ( i . e . , end of the flood season). Zifa
argues th a t i f he waits long enough his f e r t i l i t y will re tu rn . Though
his condition has lasted fo r "three floods," he says he will not give
up his piece of land ( v iz ., Ebiere). This is a curious remark for him
to make because i t indicates he is well aware of "the b irth cure."
Yet, when the Masseur chides him for masking r e a l i ty in the guise of
fa lse hope, Zifa claims not to "Follow the d r i f t of (his) thought"
(p. 80). The Masseur has touched the se n sitiv e nerve endings of Z ifa 's
ego, so Zifa accuses him of planting ideas in E biere's head:
What have you been t e llin g my
Wife, man? I sent her to you to
Rub, not to turn against her man. (p. 81)
In what is one of the key passages in the play, Masseur accuses Zifa
of (a) forcing Ebiere to be fa ith fu l to the point of f o lly ; (b) placing
the blame for ch ild lessn ess in Ebiere; and (c) consulting other
diviners to "keep up appearances." The indictment is devastating and
leaves Zifa without excuse. He turns to an ontological argument to
b u ttress the excuse for his behavior, reminding the Masseur th a t the
wife of the god Ogun "has been known to w ait seven years to bring
forth f r u it" (p. 81). But the Masseur corrects Z ifa 's memory informing
him th a t the barrenness of Ogun's wife was due to a curse which he, the
Masseur him self, was called in to break. Both men discuss the mytho
logical past in the present tense as i f they themselves were present
a t the events described. This is an important anthropological in s e rt
on C lark's p art because i t reminds the Western reader or sp ectato r of
the processes of temporal co n tinuity within the Ijaw community. The
78
Cartesian demarcation of p a s t, presen t, and future so typical of
Western thought is quite foreign to the African world view. In th is
view memory is the presence of the past in daily l i f e . Memory is also
the fo re te llin g of future vengeance in the present. This is why the
Masseur's mention of Ogun's curse is pivotal to the thematic s tru c tu re
of C lark's play. The myth of the god is being re fle c te d in the lives
of m ortals, but with a cruel and fa te fu l d ifferen ce. Zifa complains:
Oh, why is such a cure not open to us
Men? I'd give the gods and my fath ers
. The f a t t e s t bull in the land to re tra c e
M y course and cast o ff th is curse, (p. 82)
"This curse," as i t turns out, is not the curse of i n f e r t i l i t y /
impotence; th is is only the symptom not the cause of Z ifa 's troubles.
He would p refer to change the symptoms ra th e r than face up to the cause,
which in th is case is his v io latio n of a ritu a l taboo. W e get a f i r s t
ind icatio n of th is when Zifa says:
. . . M y fa th e r who they dared
Not s p it a t when he lived is dead
and lying in an evil grove, (p. 82)
The only reason an individual is buried outside the pale ("evil grove")
in Ijaw society is because of his " fa ilu re to respect members of his
21
community." Such behavior w ill not only create disharmony between
him and his fellowman, and lead to his iso la tio n within the community,
but w ill also lead to the iso la tio n of his soul a f t e r death. This i s ,
in p a rt, what Zifa re fe rs to when he says, "Was th a t not enough
penalty." I t is never c le a rly sta te d in the play what p re c ise ly Z ifa 's
f a th e r 's crime was th a t caused him to die outside the pale. All we
know is th a t the Gods a f f lic te d him with leprosy and th a t Z ifa, in an
79
excess of f i l i a l duty, buried him prematurely, "a l i t t l e b i t early /
For one who died of the white ta in t" (p. 83). Ijaw tra d itio n pre
scribed th a t in cases of death outside the pale a certa in amount of
time should elapse before the body could be brought home for b u ria l.
The interval of time between death and burial was
necessary because i t enabled the community to
cleanse i t s e l f of the corruption of which such
death is a m an ife statio n . 2 2
Zifa did not observe th is time in terv al because, apparently, i t was the
flood season (August-September). But th ere may be another reason for
his undue haste. In Ijaw tra d itio n men are not only judged by the way
in which they liv e d , but also by the way in which they met with th e ir
23
death. Whatever the reason for Z ifa 's h aste , i t was obvious th a t he
has violated several ritu a l observances. In honoring the memory of his
fa th e r Zifa has acted immorally, p o lluting the community and offending
the v illa g e ancestors (duwoiyou). P hilip Leis' observations confirm
the p la y 's meaning:
O rdinarily the ancestors are thought to remain
in t h e i r own v illa g e s and to p ro te ct t h e i r
liv in g kinsmen, causing illn e s s or death only
i f they are offended for some reason. When the
l a t t e r occurs, the liv in g must p ro p itia te them
with food and d rin k .24
Zifa re fe rs to th is p rac tic e when he remarks of his f a th e r 's dead
corpse:
Of course I have reca lle d
Him into town so a t times of fe stiv a l he can
Have s a c r if ic e , (p. 82)
The tra g ic irony of Z ifa 's s itu a tio n is th is : in his haste to give his
fa th e r proper b u r ia l, he has violated Ijaw tr a d itio n . This has brought
80
upon him the curse of i n f e r t i l i t y / impotence: "I am become / Drained
of my manhood," he t e l l s the Masseur (p. 83). Moreover, his over
zealousness in burying his fa th e r has polluted the community thereby
disru p tin g the stream o f h is to ric a l and psychic continuity connecting
25
the human world to the s p i r i t world. In desperation he seeks "A way
o u t, a way to lead me / Out of th is burnt patch of earth" (p. 83). The
Masseur cautiously suggests the same way out: "I spoke to your wife /
About only a l i t t l e while ago" (p. 83). Z ifa, s t i l l concerned with
secrecy and with saving face, mistakes the Masseur's meaning; he thinks
the Masseur intends to re sto re his potency through a s e rie s of massage
treatm ents or by arranging a divorce:
I will not be separated from
M y wife. She h e rse lf will not agree to i t . (p. 84)
F in ally , the Masseur s ta te s his so lu tio n unequivocally, as he had done
to Ebiere:
Have you ever considered another should
Take over the t i l l i n g of the f e r t i l e
S o il, and had wet mud flung back a t you? (p. 84)
Zifa is furious a t th is suggestion of a surrogate, addressing the
Masseur as "a crawling piece of withered flesh with the soul of a
serp en t," an iro n ic e p ith e t considering i t is Zifa who is himself
physically impotent. He threatens to crush the Masseur between his
palm and wipe his face on the ground:
How dare you suggest
A thing lik e th a t to me: I am strong and,
Alive s t i l l and dare you open your f i l t h y
Mouth to suggest I pawn my land? (p. 85)
81
The Masseur re p lie s th a t Zifa is overwrought, emphasizing onee again
th a t the solution is a tra d itio n a l one but must follow r itu a l conven
tio n s:
What I
Suggest our fath e rs did not forbid even in days
of old . . . Both
Your fam ilies w ill have to s i t together and
Talk the m atter over. (p. 85)
Zifa re je c ts th is so lution exclaiming "they (his kinsmen) w ill have to
k ill me f i r s t " and "I w ill die f i r s t " (p. 8 6 ). The Masseur again
chides him fo r talk in g lik e a child and sends him home to his wife
advising he "act on these th in g s."
The movement ends on the same note of foreboding with which i t
began. In a fin al six lin e asid e , the Masseur sums, up the character
flaws of the two major p rotagonists:
Well there goes a man deep and furious as
A riv e r underground. I hope he keeps
The lid down on his w ife, for I fear
She is f r e ttin g already, (p. 8 6 )
The hero and heroine themes of the f i r s t movement are also
brought to a f i t t i n g close with a prayer to the dead, a prayer under
scoring the role of fa te in the liv es of th is community.
. . . Oh you dead
And gone, take your f a t and flesh
But leave us our skin and bones, (p. 8 6 )
To sum up: The design of the f i r s t movement has been one of exposition
which can fig u ra tiv e ly be compared to the sonata form. The statement
of the f i r s t theme— i n f e r t i l i t y / impotence—is made by Ebiere, the
heroine. M ultiple expressions of th is theme are accomplished by means
o f the backward and forward conversation between Ebiere and the Masseur
, 82
These exchanges indicate symphonic progression toward the bridging
p assag e--Z ifa 's reference to E biere's departure—th a t marks the
entrance of the second theme; th is new theme—Z ifa 's c u rse --is enunci
ated by the hero, Z ifa, who chooses to cloak the r e a lity of his
s itu a tio n under the cape of appearance. The Masseur acts as sounding
board fo r these two themes allowing t h e i r tones to v ib ra te through the
cu ltu ra l tra d itio n s of Ijaw so ciety .
The f i r s t theme—Z ifa 's impotence—predominates in the develop
ment, though much is also made of Z ifa 's reluctance to abide by the
conventions of Ijaw society. The Masseur's re c a p itu la tio n presents
the themes again, but in the African s e ttin g of fa te d ire ctin g
vengeance fo r ritu a l in fra c tio n .
Second Movement
The second movement of Song of a Goat is divided into three
sections corresponding again to the three se c tio n s of sonata form.
Section 1: The drunken ravings of Orukorere in the presence of
Z ifa, Tonya and the th ree neighbors.
Section 2: The neighbor's commentary.
Section 3: E biere's return from the bush.
Having estab lish ed in the f i r s t movement the tra d itio n a l Ijaw cu ltu ra l
underpinnings of his drama—impotence and i t s im plications—Clark now
explores the p o t e n t i a l i t ie s of th is theme through a complex of symbols
and the th in ly disguised conventions of the Greek th e a tre . By "symbol"
I mean a p a r tic u la r th in g —a leopard, for in stan ce—which may be taken
to represent an idea such as predatory action. By a "complex of
83.
symbols" I mean a group of objects which are rela te d to one another in
t h e ir use. And by conventions of the Greek th eatre I am re fe rrin g
p rin c ip a lly to two: the introduction of a Cassandra-like fig u re ,
Orukorere, and the use of a chorus of neighbors. Since these
techniques are tig h tly bound to the action o f the play i t s e l f , i t seems
appropriate to expand upon th e ir cro ss-c u ltu ra l im plications as they
present themselves in the dramatic sequence.
The second movement o f Song of a Goat opens with a long wail by
Orukorere, Z ifa 's "half-possessed Aunt." She has succeeded in rousing
the whole town of Deinogbo with a demented warning about having heard
the cry of a goat. Tonya, Z ifa 's bro th er, ascribes Orukorere's wail
to drunkenness. Orukorere continues:
A goat, a he-goat, d o n 't you hear
Him crying? W o - oo - oo - oo11
Will you come out a ll you people? (p. 87)
A chorus of bewildered neighbors appears. The th ird neighbor echoes
the Masseur's foreboding words (from the f i r s t movement) about f i r e by
asking Zifa:
Has your house caught f ir e ? In th is
Weather of high wind, the fis h wrack
Must be well above f i r e . (p. 87)
Z ifa, remembering the Masseur's warning about the harmattan wind
causing the grass to c a t c h f i r e (p. 79), avoids the chorus' question
and t r i e s to silence Orukorere. He c a lls her "Mother" s ig n a llin g th e ir
agnatic kinship, or dau wari ( f a th e r 's fam ily), but also underscoring
n c
her symbolic presence as family m atriarch. Orukorere p e r s is ts with
her goat warning, however (p. 88), ra isin g the c u rio sity of the
84
chorus s t i l l fu rth e r and perm itting the introduction of the leopard
imagery:
There goes the cry again! I am sure
A leopard has the poor thing in his grip.
W e must save the poor brute, (p. 88)
The chorus, in ty p ic a lly Greek fashion, is not privy to Orukorere's
v isio n s; they remember only what they have witnessed and the portents
th a t attended h isto ric a l events. The danger of leopards in the dark
i s , n evertheless, a very real danger in th is so ciety so the chorus
c a lls fo r a lantern in order to see the leopard's eyes and scare i t
o ff. The leopard imagery continues with the chorus innocently talking
on the surface level of the discourse and Orukorere speaking meta
p h orically out of her vision. The lig h t/d a rk imagery, which is a
constant throughout the play, is in terlac ed here with the -goat/leopard
metaphors to c reate a sense of impending e v i l .
Third Neighbour: If th ere is a leopard here, then th is is
No play to stay.
F ir s t Neighbour: Did she say a leopard? Get a lantern then.
(pp. 88-89)
At one point the th ird neighbor likens the leopard's eyes ("Blazing
fo rth in the dark") to "the lighthouse out on the bar'.' (p. 89).
Unwittingly, the second neighbor compares the lighthouse to the silence
of Z if a 's "big house" and warns, "We must be careful" (p. 89). Thus,
a ll the images of family curse and impending doom are brought together
in the presence of Z ifa, the p ro tag o n ist, who is deaf to these i n i t i a l
warnings. He c a lls them "nonsense." Orukorere re a liz e s the fu tu re is
85
a se c re t to the neighbors and wanders o ff to the side mumbling to
h e r s e l f :
Of course
You do not hear him b lea tin g , the goat,
How could you? The ram does not cry
Out fo r help although led in to c a p tiv ity , (p. 89)
The neighbors say she must be stopped before she does h e rse lf harm.
They speculate th a t she may indeed have "seen" something but Orukorere
s tre sse s the audial nature of her warning:
Don't you hear it?
Don't you, deaf of th is world?
Are your ears so sealed and congealed
With pulp of p la n ta in , you do not hear him. (pp. 89-90)
Zifa accuses the chorus of plying Orukorere with palm wine but they
reply th a t "no one has given her drinks" and th a t she "doesn't need
anybody's drink" to see visions. Tonya, worried about appearances,
grabs hold of Orukorere complaining th a t people w ill now say "she is
mad." At Z ifa 's command Tonya releases his aunt and she te a rs o ff
through the plantain tre e s screaming of stalk in g leopards, helpless
goats, specks in the dark fo re s t and the k i l l . Her final q u artrain
about the leopard is in proverb form, combining a t once the predator/
quarry theme with the seduction theme.
And / He throws his catch over the roof
Thatch, however high, to catch i t on
The lee before the quarry f a l l s ;
Else he is no tru e hunter, (p. 91)
Orukorere here is re fe rrin g to the p ra c tic e of leopards in the wild
tossing th e i r prey high up in the crux of tre e branches where other
predators cannot reach them. Zifa is the metaphorical leopard; the
8 6
"roof thatch" is his house; and "his catch" is Ebiere whom he is trying
to prevent from f a llin g on the "lee" side (sheltered from the wind)
where things grow. The Masseur had made a sim ilar reference to wind
and s h e lte r in the f i r s t movement in warning Zifa of the f o lly of
allowing Ebiere to continue in a s ta te of sexual fru s tra tio n :
Masseur: Soon the earth will put on her green
S k irt, the wind fanning her cheeks flushed
From the new dawn. Will you l e t the woman
Wait s t i l l when a ll the world is a s t i r
With seed and heavy from flow of sap. (p. 80)
Here in the exposition segment of the second movement, Orukorere ends
her prophecy, too, with a warning before collapsing:
Orukorere: . . . W e must h a l t :
Him [the leopard], put a stop to his f a u lt, (p. 91)
The neighbors think these goings on quite "strange" and call upon Zifa
to "do something." Zifa re v e rts to sarcasm:
Zifa: Do what? Put her in a room with goats
And t i e her to a log? I s n 't
That what you will have me do?
Second Neighbour: Nobody said you should shut her up. (p. 91)
The second neighbor's reply is unw ittingly iro n ic in th a t i t r e in tr o
duces the theme of exposure sounded in the f i r s t movement, a theme th a t
is thenceforward never out of mind. As in the case of perm itting
surrogate p a te rn ity , Zifa is again caught on the horns of a dilemma:
i f he shuts up Orukorere ph y sically , he admits there is substance to
her rambling speech; i f he allows her to speak her mind with abandon,
he exposes himself to the danger she w ill b lu r t out his dark se c re t and
those of his family. Thus, his e a r l i e r emphasis on Orukorere's
drunkenness and his present sarcasm:
____________________________________________________________________ 8Z.
Zifa: . . . do you (neighbours) think I have
Not heard your laughter cackle in the play house when
She [Orukorere] passed a ll smeared with ash and dust?
(p. 91)
Tonya, taking his cue from Z ifa, expresses contempt fo r the neighbors.
They say they did not come to make tro u b le; i t was Orukorere's cry th a t
brought them. F in ally , the th ird neighbor sums up these exchanges in
a prophetic proverb which le ts Zifa know they suspect some tru th behind
Orukorere's ravings:
Third Neighbour: If eyes do not see, lip s will not cry. (p. 92)
Orukorere takes a f i t . Z if a 's pique becomes so intense th a t he chases
the chorus out: "Go away, I sa id , Tonya l e t 's take her in ." Z ifa,
Tonya and Orukorere e x it ending the f i r s t segment of the second move
ment and leaving the stage to the three neighbors.
At th is juncture i t seems appropriate to make a few remarks
about C lark's use of the prophetess and chorus conventions, th e ir
re la tio n to each o th er, and to th e ir Greek antecedent.
The Cassandra-prophetess convention, of course, is not an
e n tire ly Western invention. Her prototype e x ists in many non-Western
s o c ie tie s . In her Ijaw incarnation she is t i t l e d " S p irit Carrier"
27
(oru kuro) , th a t i s , a person or persons believed to be possessed by
the water d e itie s (owuamapo) . Thus, Clark describes Orukorere as
Z ifa 's "half-possessed aunt." The Greek Cassandra, i t will be recalled,
re fe rs to h e rs e lf in The Agamemnon as "possessed of god" (1140), fated
to cry out her prophecies "beside the deadly r iv e r s , Cocytus and
OO
Acheron" (1160). C lark's d escription of Orukorere could be mislead-
8 8
ing fo r some Western readers nurtured in the tra d itio n a l Judeo-
C hristian concept of "possession" as something inherently e v il. One
has only to r e c a l l , however, th a t "possession" in some C hristian sects---
e . g ., Catholic Charismatic groups, White Appalachian, Black B ap tist,
B ritish eighteenth century Conformists--is/was perceived as r e lig io u s ,
i . e . , holy possession. This, b a s ic a lly , is the meaning Clark intends
but with a p a rtic u la r ethno-cultural tw ist. Among the Ijaw, " s p i r i t
c a rrie rs" such as Orukorere are said to be "married" to a water s p i r i t
in the s p i r i t world before th e ir b irth . This arrangement is la t e r
formalized in a person's conscious existence when symptoms of "seizure"
by a s p i r i t —usually mental or physical disturbances of young married
women--are diagnosed by d iv in ers:
[The Woman] then usually spends some time, sometimes
a long time, in the house of an established oru koru
woman, where she learns to keep her s p i r i t under
co n tro l, so th a t i t v i s i t s her only a t appropriate
moments, when people come to consult her, and gives
them advice th a t is not impossible to follow.29
A successful oru kuro woman is said to have "become a c h ie f in the
water s p i r i t country," and in the name of her s p i r i t husband she
exercises over her followers an a u th o rity sim ila r to th a t of a house
30
head. This is another reason why Zifa addresses Orukorere as
"Mother" and why she l a t e r re fe rs to Zifa and Tonya as her "sons."
But Orukorere's s p i r i t is not under c o n tro l. Like everyone
e lse in Z ifa 's "queer family" she has transgressed against the s p i r i t
world by refusing to take a human husband.
Second Neighbour: And to think she was one time
The sweetest maid in a ll the creeks.
89
Third Neighbour: She w ill have no man for husband, (p. 92)
Apparently, Orukorere had many s u ito rs but her f a th e r, a f t e r agreeing
to various matches—and presumably accepting the customary dowry—would
renege on the bargain and murder the s u ito rs :
Third Neighbour: Why, young men would come from a ll over the land
To ask her hand of her fath er.
Second Neighbour: They a ll got i t from him, you cannot
Doubt th a t. He would as e a sily k ill inside the
Clan as outside i t . (p. 93)
Through pride Orukorere h e rse lf refused to acknowledge her prenatal
se le c tio n by the water people. The c h o riste rs r e c a ll:
F ir s t Neighbour: Remember how the people of the sea
Chose her for th e i r handmaiden.
Second Neighbour: Sure, but she was so proud she would
Not l is te n to what the oracle said. (p. 93)
This re je c tio n of her role as " s p i r i t c a rrie r" led to her being cast
under a spell by the water people. But instead of f u l f i l l i n g her
function as "u n o fficial" medium fo r her society she i s , as Horton puts
31
i t , m iscast in her social ro le . The th ird neighbor emphasizes th is
fa c t:
Third Neighbour: . . . [water people] have put th is spell on
Her. But although she has th is double vision
Nobody believes a word she says, even
Outside of the gourd, (p. 93)
(The "gourd" here is fig u ra tiv e language for the WARI, or house where
oru kuro women tr a d itio n a lly p ra c tic e t h e i r a r t . )
Like Cassandra, then, Orukorere is doomed to see her prophecies
ignored, but fo r d iffe re n t reasons. This is the f i r s t textual in d ica
tion th a t Orukorere is intended by Clark to be viewed as a touchstone
90
with the Cassandra in Aeschylus' Agamemnon. In th a t play, Agamemnon,
leader o f the Greeks, returns victorious from Troy. He is murdered in
his bath by his w ife, Clytaemnestra, and her lover, Aegisthus, who is
Agamemnon's cousin. They also slay Agamemnon's captiv e, Cassandra,
Clytaemnestra k i l l s her husband to avenge her daughter, Iphigenia, whom
Agamemnon s a c rific e d to the goddess Artemis when he had to choose
between his daughter's l i f e and his ambition to conquer Troy.
Aegisthus avenges the crime of a previous generation, the hideous
murder of his brothers by Agamemnon's fa th e r, Atreus. The k illin g of
Agamemnon is j u s t i f i e d by both Clytaemnestra and Aegisthus; but i t is
in the nature of th is ju s t i c e th a t the process of slaughter can never
be a rre ste d . This i s the curse th a t haunts the House of Atreus.
In th is murky atmosphere, one human being sees c le a rly . This
is the prophetess of Troy, Cassandra, Priam's daughter and
Clytaem nestra's fo il and r iv a l; she has seen her c ity and people wiped
out by Agamemnon, her fa th e r and brothers butchered by his followers.
These incidents are the past of memory which she has in common with
Orukorere. Cassandra also knows of a past she has never witnessed:
A m I some swindling seer who hawks his lie s from
door to door? Upon your oath, bear witness th a t I
know by heart the legend of ancient wickedness within
th is house. (1195 f f . )
She sees in the lig h t of the "revealed" past the in v is ib le network of
treachery th a t waits fo r Agamemnon and h e rse lf:
Now once again the pain of grim, tru e prophecy
shivers my w hirling brain in a storm of things
foreseen. (1215-1216)
91
Yet Cassandra has no real stake in her fa te beyond the knowledge th a t
i t w ill happen:
Chorus: Some d iv in ity kneeling upon you brings
the death song of your passionate suffering? (1175-1176)
Unlike Orukorere, Cassandra is an alien in Greek society:
Chorus: . . . And s t i l l we stand amazed a t you,
reared in an a lie n c ity f a r beyond the sea,
how can you s tr ik e , as i f you had been
th e re , the tru th . (1199 f f .)
She has no t i e s of blood-kinship to the p ro ta g o n ist, Agamemnon. She is
a slave m istress (11. 953, 1071, 1226) and prize of war. Her curse is
unrelated to the curse th a t hangs over the House of Atreus. Like
Orukorere, Cassandra too broke her promise to the d e ity , Loxias
(Apollo), in refusing to become his m istress:
Cassandra: Apollo was the seer who s e t me to th is work.
. . . he w restled with me, and he breathed d e lig h t.
Chorus: Did you come to the g e ttin g of ch ild ren , then,
as people do?
Cassandra: I promised th a t to Loxias, but I broke my word.
(1202 f f . )
Apollo n u l l i f i e s his g i f t of tru e prophecy by the condition th a t her
prophecies will never be believed. Like the Hebrew prophets, she sees
r e a l i t y —p a s t, presen t, and fu tu re —so c le a rly th a t she is cut o ff
from ordinary human beings by the c l a r i ty of her vision and the
t e r r i b l e burden of her knowledge; lik e them she expresses h e rse lf in
poetic fig u re s, and lik e them she is rejected by her hearers. When she
walks to her death i t is as "one simple slave who died, a small th ing,
lig h tly k ille d " (1326).
92
Not so Orukorere, who has tie s of blood-kinship to Zifa and,
th e re fo re , a personal stake in his destiny. His curse is also her
curse since she is p a rt of his p a trilin e a l family. Yet her own curse—
defying the water d e i t i e s — is p art and parcel of the fam ily's
c o lle c tiv e transgressions against the s p i r i t world. This is why the
chorus of neighbors frequently re fe rs to th is family as "queer" and
say, "A curse lie s heavy upon i t . " In her ro le as prophetess, however,
Orukorere is h e s ita n tly believed; the chorus of neighbors think there
may be something to Orukorere's ravings.
Third Neighbour: The woman may have double vision a f t e r a l l .
(p. 90)
And l a t e r , when Orukorere's transgressions ag ain st the water d e itie s
are revealed:
F irs t Neighbour: Then you think there is something
To th is her raving? (p. 93)
This h a lf - b e lie f in the e ffic a c y of Orukorere's prophecies is one of
the c h a r a c te r is tic s th a t d istin g u ish es her from her Greek prototype,
Cassandra. Both chorus' engage in the same type of dual-level conver
sation with the prophetess. In the Agamemnon the chorus professes not
to comprehend the meaning of Cassandra's words:
Chorus: I can make nothing of these prophecies.
/ The r e s t
I understand: the c ity is fu ll of the
/ sound of them. (1105)
Yet, despite i t s lack of comprehension, Aeschylus' chorus re a liz e s
th a t Cassandra's u tte rin g s are, somehow, prophecies:
. . . After the darkness of her speech
I go bewildered in the midst of prophecies. (1112)
_____________________________ 93
Ju st as Aeschylus' chorus knows so completely the bloody h isto ry of the
House of Atreus, so C lark's chorus knows the strange h isto ry of the
House of Zifa. But, whereas Aeschylus' chorus does not understand
Cassandra's prophecies, C lark's chorus says i t does not fathom Z ifa 's
fami 1y of whom Orukorere is the symbolic presence:
Second Neighbour: Yet she cried a goat. I re a lly can
Not understand them of th a t family, (p. 93)
C lark's chorus re a liz e s th a t Orukorere, in her role as " s p i r i t
c a r r i e r ," is try in g to t e l l them something about the fa te of Z ifa 's
house. Aeschylus' chorus think Cassandra's fo recasts re fe r e ith e r to
her po sitio n as siave-m istress or to her future death.
Chorus: 0 woman much enduring and so g reatly wise,
you have said much, But i f th is thing you
/ know be tru e ,
th is death th a t comes upon you, how can you, serene,
walk to the a l t a r lik e a driven ox of God? (1295 f f . )
This cu ltu ra l c o n tra st is again c le a rly evident in the en trap
ment images employed by both Aeschylus and Clark. In the Agamemnon the
chorus, speaking of the net of slavery, is re fe rrin g to Cassandra's
being caught in th a t n e t, but they are also unwittingly prefiguring
Agamemnon's death:
What she [Clytaemnestra] has spoken is for you,
/ and c le a r enough.
Fenced in these fa ta l nets wherein you
/ find y o u rself
You should obey her i f you can; perhaps you
/ cannot. (1047 f f . )
L ater, Cassandra uses the words "net," "trap" and "web" to describe
s p e c ific a lly the death of Agamemnon in Clytaemnestra's net garment,
but the meaning of her words is not grasped by the chorus:
94
Cassandra: No, no, see there! What is th a t thing th a t shows?
Is i t some net of death.
Or is the tra p the woman th e re ,
/ the murderess? (1114 f f . )
See th e re , see there! Keep from his mate
/ the b u l l .
Caught in the folded web's / entanglement . . .
(1125 f f . )
Aeschylus's entrapment images have th e ir counterpart in C lark's goat-
leopard/chicken-hawk imagery. The difference is th a t the "seer"
. Orukorere has trig g ered the imagery and the chorus of neighbors know
p recisely to whom i t re fe rs:
Third Neighbour: In / A family lik e th a t th ere always will spring
Up leopards. But th a t they have goats
In t h e i r midst one may as well go
And seek eggs among cocks, (p. 93)
Second Neighbour: Yet she cried a goat . . . (p. 93)
Aeschylus' chorus, assumes diving powers ( " s t i l l by God's race there
surges within me singing magic"; "why th is s tr a in unwanted, unrepaid,
thus prophetic?":, 105 and 979). But i t has a q u ite d iff e r e n t
cu ltu ra l/p ro p h e tic re la tio n sh ip with i t s formal prophets than does
C lark's chorus which merely reads the signs. Their a c tio n s /r e la tio n
ship is governed by the conventions of Ijaw so cie ty . Clark, in
attempting to in te g ra te th is th e a tr ic a l convention with his thematic
analysis of conventional ch aracter actio n , has transposed the Greek
chorus' divining powers in to an in tu itiv e perceptiveness based on the
association of ideas. This takes the form of v illa g e gossip in the
fin al lin es of the chorus segment of the second movement. The chorus
sees Ebiere returning from the bush and notes:
95
Second Neighbour: She is grown very queer of l a t e , too.
See how she c a rrie s her wood?
Third Neighbour: Bring up a chicken among hawks
And i f she has not eaten she w ill eat.' (p. 93)
These hauling, predator and eating images are followed immediately
by speculation about E biere's fa lse fatn ess and by gossip about Z ifa 's
conjugal abstinence:
Third Neighbour: [Her fatness] is the wrong type what with th a t
Her clay colour.
Second Neighbour: They say he d o e sn 't go in
To her anymore, but I wouldn't discuss th a t.
(p. 94)
The chorus thus recycles the "white ta in t" image from the f i r s t move-
m ent--E biere's "clay colour"—and in tu itiv e ly links i t to Z ifa. All
the themes are brought together through a ly ric succession o f images
whose forms melt into one another to c reate a mood of suspicion and
foreboding in which the final segment of the second movement w ill be
played. The chorus e x its and is not heard from again u n til the final
movement.
In dramatic terms, fa te is the pressure exerted on the pro
ta g o n ists. By constantly harping on the leopard imagery Orukorere
and the chorus in c ite Z ifa, Ebiere and Tonya to f u l f i l l the destiny
of th e ir a c ts . In the f i r s t movement the Masseur had id e n tifie d Zifa
to Ebiere as a leopard: "Why even leopards go lame" (p. 77). Now,
a f t e r the chorus leaves in the second movement, Dode echoes the
e a r l i e r leopard exchanges, thereby reminding Ebiere of the Masseur's
words and pushing her psychologically in to the a c t th a t w ill be her
__________________________________________________________________________________________ 9fi
downfall. Ebiere gently chides Dode in words th a t fu rth e r label Zifa
as predator:
Leave leopards alone to the elders
Of the family. Your fa th e r is honoured
For c o lle c tin g t h e i r scalps but everybody
D iscredits your aunt, who only sees
Them in v isio n s, (p. 94)
These exchanges take place in the dark and Ebiere, who has j u s t
returned from the bush, c a lls fo r lig h t. Orukorere has vomited and
Zifa asks Ebiere to clean i t up. Ebiere says she is not adverse to
th is chore since she re a liz e s the old woman is "almost lik e a child"
and she is becoming ra th e r fond of her. Tonya considers th is s t a t e
ment "a foolish thing to say," but Zifa co rrects him:
Zifa: No, Tonya, no.
She knows what she is ta lk in g , (p. 95)
At th is ju n ctu re , then, a ll the p rin c ip a ls , save Tonya and Dode, are
somewhat nervous about Orukorere's ravings. Tonya and Dode only
"hear" her, but Zifa and Ebiere " lis te n ." Orukorere reappears
singing of a leopard:
Orukorere: The leopard, I have missed the leopard
That w ill despoil the prime goat of our yard
But I do not hear the v ic to r 's cry. (p. 96)
Ebiere seems fascin ated by the song of the leopard, she being the
goat in the overall s tru c tu re of meaning. She qu iets Dode so she can
l is te n to Orukorere's song. Zifa reinforces the imagery fo r Ebiere by
exclaiming, "There is nothing lik e th a t (leopard) here." Tonya takes
up the theme:
TonyS: W e looked everywhere while you s le p t.
97
Orukorere: So I slep t? And you d i d n 't find
Him? I knew i t was no proper leopard.
There, I see i t sports the long s lid e
Of the earth one. You know i t is the dumbest
Of a ll beasts whether in town or bush, yes,
Even as the beast s tr ik e s you dead on the sand.
Zifa: So from leopard i t is become a snake? (p. 96)
Ebiere now, lik e M ilton's Eve in the dream sequence of Paradise Lost
(Book V, 26-93), is psychologically attuned to commit an evil a c t. In
th is case the "in sp irin g venom" has been placed in her subconscious
not by a dream, but by her fascin atio n with Orukorere's song of the
leopard. As with Eve, i t will produce unbalanced and excessive
d e s ire s , making her proud and w ilfu l. The leopard imagery ceases a t
th is point and is not taken up again u n til the end of the th ird move
ment. I t is replaced by serpent imagery. Ebiere, fo r in stan ce , will
underscore her developing ro le as temptress when she comes out
"hissing" in the th ird movement, a t the end of which she w ill seduce
Tonya and seal her fa te .
These ominous events are fo re c a st by Orukorere in her thematic
re c a p itu la tio n a t the close of the second movement. Her d esire to find
the snake in the grass is linked with her request of Zifa to buy gin.
Z ifa 's refusal provokes Orukorere's v eiled reference to E b iere's "big
dowry" purchase price and the fa c t th a t i t has not brought the
an tic ip a te d f e r t i l i t y : "Money is sweet y e t i t d o esn 't bubble fa t"
(p. 97). She follows with an allu sio n to the m atter of surrogate
p a te rn ity , using eating images:
Orukorere: No he won't (give me money) . . . although he ate
Yesterday. Therefore he w ill not e a t today!
98
Z if a 's sexual ego has entangled the family in a Gordian knot th a t will
bu rst because of the s tr a in put on i t s in terlac ed fib e rs :
Orukorere: Well, l e t us sing, boy [Dode], oh l e t ' s
Sing of souls tie d down with ropes
Of piassava so strong they break! (p. 97)
Her words recall the Masseur's remark in the f i r s t movement about
"retying of knots" with the Fates (p. 77). She concludes by singing
a d i t t y about Ijaw b o ttleg g ers ferrying contraband gin to the safety
of a foreign c ity , Accra:
Orukorere: Bailing out to Accra! I t ' s
To Accra I must b a i l ,
This cooking of gin, i t ' s
Killed me, oh, i t has!
Ju st as the bootleggers vainly bail out th e ir canoes in an e f f o r t to
escape t h e i r pursuers, so Z ifa 's family struggles in vain to escape
i t s destiny. Ebiere closes out the movement by saying she w ill "go
and get food fo r each one," an a llu sio n not only to nourishment but
to the slaking of sexual a p p e tite .
Third Movement
The th ird movement in a Western symphony custom arily consists
of some v a ria tio n of the minuet. Beethoven, for example, gave th a t
t i t l e to the th ird movement of his Symphony No. 1. On the score,
however, he added the notation alleg ro mol to e vivace ("very f a s t and
vivacious") and from the f i r s t rush of the staccato s trin g s up the
scale i t is obvious he is playing with his themes.
This i n i t i a l section of the movement, scherzo ( l i t e r a l l y ,
"jokes"), is worked out in an extremely precise fashion almost as
99
rhythmic as the beat of a metronome. I t is then duly repeated. The
middle sectio n , or t r i o , th a t follows introduces a new, lig h te r theme.
This section is also repeated. I t leads d ire c tly back into the
ch atterin g staccato of the opening sectio n , and th a t, in tu rn , is
brought to a powerful conclusion by the fu ll o rch estra.
The vigorous th ird movement of Song of a Goat follows th is
broad symphonic scheme. I t is introduced by Ebiere who is giving her
son, Dode, a bath. She scolds the child for y e llin g suggesting th a t
his d irtin e s s reminds her of yaws:
Anybody/Would think you were being circumcized a ll
Over again or th a t you have yaws. . . . (p. 98)
The mention of yaws is ambiguous here. C u ltu ra lly , i t re fe rs to one
of the minor requirements in Ijaw so ciety for achieving the sta tu s of
a human being, th a t i s , a t some time a f t e r the te e th of an in fa n t
appear i t is expected he w ill contact yaws:
Three months a f t e r a male has yaws, or four months
in the case of a g i r l , the head is shaved, whether
or not the ch ild is cured by th a t time. Now, being ^
a whole person, he has the rig h t to a proper b u r i a l .
On the other hand, yaws has many analogies with sy p h ilis which is a
known cause of barrenness. Ebiere also uses "yaws" in th is second
sense when she s tr ik e s Dode and s a r c a s tic a lly remarks:
I suppose your (the House of Zifa)
Race can boast of th a t. (p. 98)
Ebiere's opening remarks s e t the tone fo r the images used in
th is movement: o u tsid e r, d isea se, and barrenness. In s trik in g Dode,
Ebiere gives vent to her fru s tra tio n a t being an ou tsid er trapped in
100
an interlocking maze o f s u p e rs titio n s pecu liar to Z ifa 's family. In
the view of some Ijaw, a p re -fiv e -y e a r-o ld , lik e Dode, possesses power
(kro) which enables him to function on the border between the worlds
of the dead (duwoiama) and the liv in g . Among the c h i l d 's supernatural
powers is the a b i l i t y to cause his mother to be barren. I t is for
th is reason th a t Ijaw parents h e s ita te to beat th e ir children fo r fear
33
of offending the oru or c h ild 's p ro te ctiv e d eity . This is why Tonya
commands Ebiere to stop "smacking" Dode, using the e d ito ria l' "we" to
remind Ebiere she is an o u tsid er:
Tonya: That's enough; we d o n 't allow our children
to be knocked on the head lik e th a t. (p. 98)
Such knocks on the head, he continues, makes a ch ild prone to attacks
of smallpox—again, a s u p e rs titio u s , outward m anifestation of sy p h ilis.
Ebiere re p lie s in kind emphasizing her o u ts id e r's contempt for Z ifa 's
clan and her in a b ility to conceive:
I can well see you people care for children
A great d e a l. (p. 99)
Tonya takes Dode aside saying he will carve him a canoe " f i t t e r than
any Witch's c r a f t . " Ebiere "hisses" and the movement takes o ff in a
new d ire c tio n not unlike the Scherzo section of the th ird movement in
a Western symphony.
Hector Berlioz suggests in one of his essays th a t scherzo in
I ta lia n means "play" or "humorous fro li c. W ha t room is there for
"play" in such an epic composition as for instance, Beethoven's
Symphony No. 3 in E Flat Major ("Eroica") o r, more to the p o in t, in
C lark's Song of a Goat? The answer i s , according to B erlioz, th a t the
101
"play" is "funeral games clouded a t every in s ta n t by thoughts of
mourning; a kind of play, in f a c t , re c a llin g th a t which the warriors
35
of the Ilia d celebrated round the tombs of t h e i r c h ie fs." The
funeral game in Song o f a Goat is actu a lly a dance of death in which
Ebiere will serve as temptress to Z ifa 's b ro th e r, Tonya. The serpent-
temptress imagery which closed the second movement, is now combined
with w itch-caldron / hook-and-bait metaphors to provide a backdrop of
evil fo r Tonya's seduction. The scherzo technique is also very much a
p a rt of Ijaw c u ltu re which permits a joking re la tio n s h ip (dogho)
between a woman and her husband's younger brother. In th is type of
re la tio n sh ip "they may in s u lt the person and possession of each
o th e r." Since the custom of a woman marrying the brother of her
deceased husband (1 e v i r a t e ) is practiced by the Ijaw, i t is not
unusual for Ebiere and Tonya to engage in such banter. They a re , in
f a c t , po ten tial mates and Ebiere indicates th is by addressing Tonyct
as "father-of-my-marriage" (dauwari) and then in su ltin g him:
Ebiere: . . . what / Can you or anybody in th is house do
About anything? At l e a s t, one has f i r s t to know
The roots to be able to gather the leaves, (p. 99)
Tonya confesses th a t he does not know what has made Ebiere so b i t t e r
over the past months remarking th a t she acts lik e a "stepmother"
towards her own ch ild . Ebiere compares her present barrenness ("ten
f a l l s of the flood") to the long gestation period of the elephant
before c itin g the real reason fo r her concern:
. . . custom d ic ta te s those who die c h ild le ss
Be cast out of the company of the f r u i t f u l whose
Special grace is internment in the township, (p. 100)
002
The im plication of E biere's statem ent is obvious: a barren woman is
buried in an unceremonious manner—in a mat, a c tu a lly —outside the
precincts of the community. No food is offered her following the
burial so her soul (teme) w ill be unable to "eat" with other people of
her own ranking in the v illa g e of the dead.
To have a burial of th is s o rt is considered a
tragedy. Without descendants a person must face
oblivion since an ancestor can expect to be r e
membered and responded to only by his children
and t h e i r ch ild r e n . 37
What is iro n ic about E b iere's fe a r of the stigma of i n f e r t i l i t y
is th a t in trying to combat the stigma she pursues a course—in c e s t—
th a t w ill assuredly land her in the same predicament a f t e r death. In
th is she m irrors her husband, Z ifa, who for the same reason—d e sire for
im m ortality—refuses to submit to the r i t e s and r it u a l s surrounding
the surrogate solution to his impotence. Tonya ascribes E biere's
barrenness to some s o rt of evil s p e ll:
Tonya: The Witch of Nine Plumes has your stomach
For her caludron. (p. 100)
E b iere's answer shows th a t she h a lf suspects h e rse lf to be bewitched:
Ebiere: She is a good cook, she
Must be, to have boiled me dry of a ll content, (p. 100)
The caludron-cook dialogue leads Tonya to remark on the recent
" irre g u la r ways" of Z ifa 's household: Ebiere has turned in to a shrew,
cuffing Dode on the skull and, on market days, neglecting to prepare
Z ifa 's meals. Ebiere f l i e s in to a tira d e accusing Tonya of not knowing
anything about " i r r e g u l a r i ti e s ," using the term fiv e times in the space
of twelve lin e s . Domestic i r r e g u l a r i t i e s , she im plies, are the r e s u lt
103
of a ll the s p ir itu a l i r r e g u l a r i t ie s surrounding Z if a 's clan. She
concludes her harangue by clapping her hands in Tonya's face, an
in su ltin g gesture th a t ends the joking re la tio n s h ip and leads to
o u trig h t confrontation. Each ta lk s of "suffering" and "patience,"
Tonya speaking on Z ifa 's behalf and Ebiere seeking to j u s t i f y h e rse lf.
In desperation Ebiere grabs Tonya over the objections of her son, Dode.
She uses the e a r l i e r disease imagery in re fe rrin g to her mounting
sexual d esire:
Ebiere: Stand a sid e , ch ild . Flesh with thorn
In i t must bud pus. (p. 102)
Tonya p ro te sts her embrace saying he is not her husband. Ebiere then
o ffe rs h e rse lf to him o u trig h t.
Ebiere: Well, a r e n 't you? Since you know his duties b e tte r
Than he does, why d o n 't you take them up? If you
Don't, I should laugh your whole race to scorn.
Their ultim ate copulation is accompanied by a w elter of w restlin g ,
bovine and le a f imagery th a t meld sp e c ific aspects of Greek mythology,
Ijaw custom and C h ristian tr a d itio n . Tonya, lik e Zeus, is a w re stle r,
an a r t much admired in Ijaw so ciety . When Ebiere b e l i t t l e s his sexual
prowess, TonyS boasts of his w restling a b i l i t y :
Many who ■ *
Doubted (my stren g th ) have f e l t i t s weight in the w restling p i t .
(p. 102)
Ebiere h e rse lf uses the language of the w restling match to goad Tonya
on:
Floor me, march on me, s tr ik e me down as
You did Benikpanra the Bull to show
You are the strong man of the family, (p. 103)
IDA
(Zeus, i t w ill be re c a lle d , assumed the form of a white bull when he
c a rrie d o ff Europa.) Aeschylus equated Zeus with f a te , y e t Euripides
in A lcestis speaks of Zeus as being powerless ag ain st fa te : "Even Zeus
looks fo r your [Fate's] help to perform what he o rdains." Here in the
th ird movement these two mythological views of Fate are given p recise
shades of meaning v is -a -v is the dominant Ijaw view o f in c e st as "A
thing forbidden" (p. 103). Tonya is a t once the instrument of Fate
and i t s victim . In "throwing" Ebiere, Tonya completes the cycle of
r itu a l in fra c tio n begun by his grandfather and, by so doing, condemns
himself to a sim ila r f a te , v i z ., internment outside the community.
Ebiere as outsider-tem ptress closes the scene with a mocking quip:
. . . Now, hold me, do hold on and
Fight, fo r i t is a thing not forbidden! (p. 103)
E a rlie r she had re fe rre d to h e rse lf as "a thing of s a c r i f i c e ." Now
the thing fo rb id d e n --in c e st—is become inseparable from the thing
s a c rif ic e d , namely, E biere's w ifely v irtu e . In her iso la tio n from
her own clan, she finds her ego challenged by an " in s id e r's " c r itic is m
of her i r r e g u l a r i t i e s . Her in stin c tiv e h o s t i l i t y toward Tonya leads
her to appeal to the superior position of her people over Z ifa 's
"race," thereby obtaining glory to boost her ego. However, no sooner
has she assumed th a t glory in a d e riv itiv e sense, then she re a liz e s
th a t in the actual nature of things she can no longer id e n tify h e rse lf
with such glory. The wealth and power of a big-dowry wife are
v itia te d by her barrenness. But to make th is admission would rob her
of a ll she has l e f t to preserve her ego, and so Ebiere allows h e rse lf
105
to be dominated by a sense of power over her adversary, Tonya. She
j u s t i f i e s her act of seduction by denying the r e a l i t y of the taboo
("a thing not forbidden"). Thus she builds a fence around h e rse lf and
38
begins to liv e in an unreal world. The consequences of th is
a ttitu d e of mind are taken up in the fourth movement where Ebiere
suggests f l i g h t to Tonya as a way out of t h e i r predicament.
At the end o f the th ird movement, the stage d ire c tio n s read,
"Cock crows beyond," a two-fold reference to P e te r's betrayal of Christ
and Z ifa 's cuckolding by TonyS. In the f i r s t movement Zifa had por
trayed him self as:
. . . the cock with flaming red c re s t
But touch the thing and y o u 'll find i t
Colder than a dog's nose. (p. 84)
This betrayal-im agery is continued when Dode rep o rts to Orukorere what
he has j u s t seen. Orukorere echoes Z if a 's words from the second
movement— "There is nothing lik e th a t leopard here" (p. 9 6)— when
she says of Tonya and Ebiere:
. . . there are no leopard and goat
Interlocked between l i f e and death, but
Two dogs a t play. (p. 104)
In other words, Tonya is not r e a lly a predator; ra th e r he is the prey.
When Dode expresses fe a r th a t Tonya w ill k ill his mother, Orukorere
replies th a t i t is Ebiere "who w ill k ill your uncle." She re fe rs to
the cock crow as more than simply an "omen" of Z ifa 's cuckholding but
as "th is g reat betrayal of our race." In giving vent to his passion,
Tonya perpetuates the curse. Ebiere, as o u tsid e r, is of l i t t l e or no
consequence in things p ertain in g to the House of Zifa. Dode asks
106
Orukorere i f she won't separate the lovers. Her rep ly , "Only the gods
and the dead may separate / Them now, c h ild ," in d icates th e ir condition
is beyond sa lv a tio n . Her final eight lin e s r e f e r a lle g o r ic a lly to
Z ifa 's "tre e of l i f e " being choked o ff by tro p ic a l vines and his house
harboring a serpent. This f i t s in with the p la y 's ominious garden-
le a f imagery and with e a r l i e r references to the serpent as "the signal
of s p ite and s i n i s t e r motives" by Tonya (p. 99) and Zifa (p. 84).
The rhythm and movement of the symphonic scherzo occur in the
"joking re la tio n sh ip " between Ebiere and Tonya. But there is also
play of the forbidden sexual kind, where a t each instance clouded by
images of disease and i r r e g u l a r i t y , th ere is a kind of predator-victim
play seen in the rhythm of nature. Even in the seemingly serpentine
evolutions of his imagery, Clark manages to preserve the s i n i s t e r
sense of impending doom which should dominate the tra g ic rhythm.
These poetic ideas are brought to f ru itio n in the "fin ale" or fin al
movement.
Final Movement
The fin al movement of Song of a Goat (lik e the f i r s t movement)
is in sonata form and (again lik e the f i r s t movement) has a strong
f i r s t theme (Z ifa 's suspicion of in c e s t) , a nervous bridging passage
(Ebiere and Tonya's escape plan) and an all-encompassing second theme
(cleansing and s a c r if ic e fo r r itu a l in fr a c tio n s ). All th is enhances
the tension and violence of the movement. The development se c tio n ,
roughly corresponding to the p o t-s tu ffin g scene, makes heavy use of
both themes but the serious second theme is ruptured by Z ifa 's v io len t
107
behavior; i t is not heard from again un til i t returns transposed in
the re c a p itu la tio n following Z ifa 's su icid e.
Zifa announces the statem ent of the f i r s t theme in a monologue
of some twenty-seven lin e s . I t is dawn ("the Sun has gone to sea")
and Zifa has returned from his " l a s t n ig h t's catch" to find Tonya
asleep in his bed. His suspicions are aroused when he t r i e s to awaken
his brother:
And when I would ca ll up the boy,
She [Ebiere] comes between us holding my hand
With the in ju n ctio n , oh l e t the man sleep,
He is tir e d and m ustn't be woken up. . . . (p. 105)
E biere's subsequent reference to Tonya as a "man" is what has
trig g ered Z ifa 's suspicions about t h e i r re la tio n sh ip and he asks:
When did he become a man to her?
With her he was always the bad boy to
Be b u llie d and scolded. . . . (p. 105)
Zifa vows revenge ( " I ' l l k ill them both i f i t is tr u e " ) , y e t doubts
the incoherent t a l e Orukorere had to ld him in her drunken stupor. He
muses th a t they "struggled lik e / Two iguanas (monitor liz a rd s ) t i l l
o utspent." Orukorere, one remembers, had described the p a rtic ip a n ts
to Dode in the th ird movement as "Two dogs a t play." The switch in
images from dogs to liz a rd s allows Clark to pursue the serpent-
temptress theme into the realm of life -d e a th struggle common in nature.
L ater, Orukorere w ill describe Zifa to Tonya a s .a poisonous "puff-
adder" (p. 112) dangerous when disturbed.
I t is noteworthy th a t Zifa has only one other soliloquy of
th is kind in the e n tire play; th is occurs a t the end o f the development
108
scene a f t e r Tonya's su icid e. Both so lilo q u ie s are concerned with
Z if a 's fra te rn a l re la tio n s h ip with Tonya. From one point of view, as
Fergusson has suggested o f Hamlet, Clark seems to be counting on the
inherent dramatic and th e a tric a l in te r e s t which Zifa has ap art from
the s to ry — "perm itting him, lik e the f i r s t v io lin in a concerto, a
cadenza on his own, a f t e r which we are returned to the m atter a t
39
hand." From another point of view, Z ifa 's monologues remind us
th a t he i s , in Henry James' term, "chief r e fle c to r " : we look to him,
as to the r itu a l scenes, to show us the underlying theme of the whole,
namely, the consequences of impotence.
Orukorere's entrance a f t e r Z ifa 's f i r s t monologue marks the
beginning of the second theme, namely, cleansing and ritu a l s a c r if ic e .
Zifa re fe rs m etaphorically to his impotence as "Misfortune" and says
he has "been host / To a guest th a t will not re tu rn ." Orukorere urges
him not to allow th is "day dedicated to the dead / And to a ll the
gods" to be s p o il t with " b itte rn e ss of h e a rt." Zifa t r i e s to draw out
his aunt as to what she witnessed between Eibere and Tonya. She
angers him by answering in parables:
Zifa: Now, look here, Mother, I am t ir e d of
Being in the t o l l / b f p a ra b le s. (p. 107)
This is an odd thing fo r Zifa to say since he has been in the to il of
parables from the very beginning. Parables in th is society are the
equivalent of footnotes in any speech communication. Z ifa 's insistence
here on plain speaking emphasizes not only his suspicion;but his
weariness under the yolk o f tra d itio n a l Ijaw p ra c tic e . As the meta-
109
phorical exchanges thicken, so Z ifa 's depression and sense of impending
doom increases. Tonya's appearance and s a rc a s tic remarks about Z ifa 's
"small catch" provide the i r r i t a n t th a t goads Zifa to hatch his
entrapment scheme.
Orukorere sends Tonya o ff to look for the s a c r i f i c i a l goat.
Tonya unknowingly p red icts his own fa te when he re fe rs ominously to
the fa c t th a t the ram "c rie d , a ll / N i g h t and a l l th ro ' today; perhaps
i t knows / I ts day is near night" (p. 109). Following Tonya's
departure we learn of Z ifa 's jealousy and his need for ocular proof
of E b iere's i n f i d e l i t y . He says he does not feel any need fo r r itu a l
cleansing, though e a r l i e r he had asked Orukorere to save him "from
th is /D ia s te r I fear has befallen me" (p. 107). Orukorere reminds him
th a t as head of the household he has an oblig atio n to s e t an example
for the o th ers. Zifa r e lu c ta n tly consents to the ritu a l and r e t ir e s
to his house to r e s t before the event leaving Orukorere to cut the
seven r i t u a l i s t i c c ir c le s for the s a c r if ic e . Orukorere closes out
th is expository section of the movement with a reminder of the c la n 's
other in fra c tio n s of Ijaw tra d itio n s :
Orukorere: W e have s le p t with wives who should
Be outdoors, have eaten of the meals they prepared
In t h e i r corru p tio n , and passed under lin es on which
They hung th e i r underclothes, (p. 109)
Orukorere's a llu sio n here is to the myriad Ijaw r e s tr ic tio n s and
taboos th a t govern a woman's menstrual periods. P hilip Leis and
others rep o rt th a t besides the general p ro h ib itio n of avoiding a ll
physical contact with males,
110
during menstruation a woman must not pass in
fro n t of a c e rta in cu lt-h o u se, allow f i r e to
be taken from her hearth fo r use in a c u lt-
house, or cook fo r a man. . . . Furthermore,
[a woman] should never wash clothes in the same
basin with the clothes of a man.40
By making s p e c ific reference to these taboos a t th is point in the play,
Orukorere is emphasizing the sexual nature of the fam ily 's ritu a l
in fra c tio n s which are resp o n sib le, in p a r t, for Z ifa 's impotence.
The incestuous re la tio n sh ip between Tonya and Ebiere has simply con
tinued the cycle of sexual tra n sg ressio n . In such "circumstances,"
Orukorere says,"what help is there" but "to look up to the dead." So
she prays to the soul of her dead b ro th er, Z ifa 's f a th e r , comparing
his sons to c a n n ib a lis tic fish :
Orukorere: . . . i t / Was good you were c a lle d home e arly
to our fath ers
Else you would now see your sons lik e bad
Fish eatin g one another, (p. 110)
Her prayer is f u t i l e , however, because Z if a 's fa th e r is himself p a rt
of the family curse, having been buried outside the pale in a watery
grave. Since he lacks im m ortality, his powers to intervene in human
a f f a i r s are n i l .
Orukorere's Cassandra-like o utburst is C lark's way of r e s t a t
ing once more in Ijaw terms an idea expressed frequently in Greek
drama; th a t i s , once a house has been cursed by heaven, the curse
continues to bring evil generation a f t e r generation. In the second
stasimon o f Sophocles' Antigone, fo r in stan ce, the chorus warns:
For those whose house is shaken by the gods
escape no kind of doom. I t extends to a ll
the kin lik e the wave th a t comes when the
winds of Thrace run over the dark of the sea.
(11. 586 ff.)4 1
111
The p a s t, in other words, is a p rediction of the e n tire s e t of crimes
leading up to the dramatic destiny of the p ro tagonist w ithin the play.
Orukorere knows t h i s , which is the reason fo r her constant harping on
the theme of past tra n sg re ssio n s; she also believes th a t s a c rif ic e and
ritu a l cleansing may turn back Fate. She e x its th is f i r s t se c tio n ,
th e re fo re , in search of a s a c r i f i c i a l animal:
I must go
And find me a liv e chicken to carry
Out th is r i t u a l , (p. 110)
The s a c r i f i c i a l animal—a chicken— is d iff e r e n t from the one Tonya
has been sent to bring back because the nature of Orukorere's s a c rific e
is d if f e r e n t. The goat s a c r if ic e is intended to p r o p itia te the gods
in general, on th is day dedicated to the dead and to a ll the gods.
The chicken—along with the w ater, fern fronds, white so il of Edo, and
symbolic c i r c l e s - - i s intended by Orukorere to cleanse the family
before i t p a rtic ip a te s in the goat s a c rif ic e and thus turn back the
hand of Fate. I ro n ic a lly , in the development section which follow s,
the goat drinks the s a c r i f i c i a l water thus f ru s tra tin g Orukorere's
attempt to cleanse the family "reeking with ro t and corruption"
(p. 112). Z ifa, in e f f e c t , w ill perform the goat s a c r if ic e
sa c rile g io u sly thereby compounding the fam ily's r itu a l transgressions
and hastening the hand of Fate.
The encounter between Ebiere and Tonya, bridges the sections
of exposition and development. Ebiere now re a liz e s she is pregnant
by Tonya and suggests f li g h t :
112
I t is th e re ,
All r ig h t, I know i t , and i t is fo r you, Oh,
I am so happy. Tonya, l e t ' s fly
And s e t up house in another creek, (p. 110)
The atmosphere of secrecy and deception, begun in the f i r s t movement,
is continued. Tonya advises caution, informing Ebiere of the impending
s a c r if ic e and Z ifa 's p ro h ib itio n ag ain st her going to market on th is
day. She re p lie s th a t Zifa must leave to meet one of his ships th a t
very nig h t; they w ill have t i l l dawn to make good t h e i r f l i g h t . Tonya
twice lab els E biere's schemes insane ("mad,” "crazy"). Z if a 's a rriv a l
a t th is point begins the development section of the movement which
gradually works up to a climax with the entrapment of the lovers.
The p o t-stu ffin g scene is an echo of many such entrapment/
recognition scenes th a t have dotted Western drama since the time of
Aeschylus: Clytem nestra' s entrapment of Agamemnon in a "net of death,"
Hamlet's mousetrap play, O th e llo 's handkerchief scene, e tc . What
d if f e r e n tia te s C lark's scene from these is th a t i t is enacted within
the framework of an actual Ijaw ritu a l of appeasement, v i z ., the
b lo o d -le ttin g of a goat and the c o lle c tin g of i t s blood in a calabash
("p o t"). All the characters recognize the ritu a l format but not
Z ifa 's perversion o f i t u n til i t is too la te . Orukorere a rriv e s on
stage expecting the prelim inary cleansing r i t u a l . Instead she finds
Zifa in a "frenzy":
Orukorere: Will someone t e l l an old woman what is
Happening in th is house? (p. 112)
W e now learn fo r the f i r s t time th a t Z if a 's family has not s a c rific e d
to the gods "for the past several y e a rs," though Orukorere has urged
113
them to do so. Z ifa, in a mood rem iniscent of his impetuous burial of
his fa th e r, says he w ill now make "in s ta n t s a c r if ic e to the gods."
Orukorere is h o rrifie d :
Orukorere: But you are
As y e t not cleansed, and fo r th a t m atter a ll
The concession is reeking with ro t and
Corruption.
Zifa: In th a t case, i t needs d r a s tic
Cleansing, which is what we shall a ll now perform.
(p. 1 1 2 )
The r itu a l s a c r if ic e is performed in two p a rts: f i r s t , the deft sever
ing of the head from the trunk of the goat and secondly, the pouring
of the blood in to the sacred calabash. Zifa accomplishes the former
task with one stroke re c a llin g his e a r l i e r th re a t about finding Tonya
g u ilty of in cest:
. . . i f i t is tru e , I ' l l cut o ff his
Neck with my c u tla s s , (p. 105)
Zifa then remarks on the p h a llic sig n ifican ce of the spurting blood:
Zifa: See how e r e c t
The blood spurts! (p. 113)
E biere's clothes are sp attered by the spurting blood and she complains
i t "has so iled my c lo th e s." Zifa re p lie s : "A l i t t l e soap soon /
washes th a t o ff." Lady Macbeth, too, was fo r washing the f ilth y
witness o ff a f t e r her husband k ille d King Duncan. But Macbeth's
blood was on his hands; he knew th a t a ll great Neptune's ocean would
not make him clean. In E biere's case, the blood is on her clo th es;
i t brands her an incestuous wife. The f a c t th a t i t can be washed-off
in d icates th a t in th is e n tire tra v e sty of r itu a l s a c r i f i c e , Ebiere
114
is unimportant and s t i l l an o u tsid e r. Even her lo v er, Tonya, had
reminded her of her sta tu s when she accused Zifa of being in a
"fren zy ":
Tonya: Keep q u ie t, Ebiere, you must not speak
Like th a t of my brother.
Zifa: Thank you, my good b ro th e r, but I
Think I can well fend fo r myself, (pp. 111-112)
Nothing th a t Ebiere does can any longer a f fe c t the course of Fate. She
w ill be given one more lin e to speak and then sile n c e . She lab els Zifa
*
"mad" when he perverts the second h a lf of the r itu a l by forcing Tonya
to s t u f f the ram's head into the s a c r i f i c i a l calabash. The symbolic
nature of th is act p a r a lle ls the theme o f sexual f r u s tr a tio n in the
play; i t is also the instrument of re v elatio n fo r Z ifa, the principal
su ffe re r.
Mark Van Doren, in his essay on King Lear, has an in te re s tin g
observation about recognition scenes such as the p o t-s tu ffin g in cid en t
in Song of a Goat. In tragedy., he w rite s , the function of such
recognition scenes is to
lig h t pain and death with understanding; and th e ir
e f fe c t upon the audience is normally, by compressing
two or more liv es in to the excitement of a single
moment, by bringing a ll the forces of the play to
bear upon one glance, one g estu re, one exclamation,
to discharge a load of emotion which has become
in t o l e r a b l e .42
The discharge in Song of a Goat is instantaneous; the recognitions are
mutual. Ebiere re a liz e s Zifa knows of her in c e st when he forces Tonya
to push the head of the goat, "horns and e a rs," into the pot. When she
f a i n ts , Zifa is confirmed in his suspicion th a t h e's been cuckolded.
115
Tonya, r e fle c tin g the e a r l i e r metaphors of grass used by the Masseur
(p. 79), recognizes h e's been found out: "This was a tra p , a tra p , and
/ You think you have caught some grass c u tte rs" (p. 1 1 4 ) .^ Orukorere
re a liz e s th a t the p la y 's contained violence is about to erupt into
actual physical force and t e l l s Tonya to run away:
Run, Tonya, run, your brother has picked up
His c u tla ss and w ill k ill you! (p. 114)
Tonya fle e s to Z if a 's house and bars the door. There follows a long
a lte rc a tio n between Zifa and Tonya, p itte d with mutual accusations and
b r is tlin g with b ib lic a l language.'
Now, w ill you come o u t, th i e f ,
Noonday th ie f , (p. 114)
and
You have . . . l e t me naked
Before our enemies, (p. 115)
Orukorere c a lls for help, t e l l i n g the neighbors th a t both her sons have
"Turned beasts and w ill devour each o th e r," an echo of her e a r l i e r
remark concerning c a n n ib a lis tic fis h . The protagonists have turned
into "monsters" b a ttlin g in a raging f i r e of recrim ination. I t is not
time th a t is out o f j o i n t here, but man who has upset N ature's balance.
Orukorere recognizes th a t Z ifa 's rage "is no common fire " because i t
emanates from the elemental f i r e of l i f e and is of the dark places of
Nature. I t has "consumed us," she says (p. 115), in d icatin g th a t the
demise of the House of Zifa is in e v ita b le . Later the th ird neighbor
repeats th is sentiment:
You cannot sto re up f i r e in the pot;
I t w ill blow up and f i l l the place with r o t. (p. 116)
116
Tonya is the f i r s t to be consumed; he runs away and commits suicide by
44
hanging himself with his lo in c lo th . Z ifa, f ru s tra te d by his
in a b i l i t y to exact j u s t i c e , breaks his m atchet--the symbol of his
45
manhood—upon his head. At th is point he is q u ite mad,. , but his
madness is never in san ity of the s o rt th a t obi ite r a te s the connection
between cause and e f f e c t. Z if a 's f a r th e s t range of wildness keeps
w ithin dramatic meaning and in his l a s t soliloquy he rends the a i r
with s e lf - p i ty . His progress through a s e rie s of rh e to ric a l questions
is a natural expression of his se lf-a b so rp tio n :
Poor, poor bro th er, do you hang a lo f t
There smiling in my face?
. . . why should you [neighbours]
Not avoid me as one with smallpox when
I have taken my b ro th e r's lif e ?
Was [Tonyl's incest] not a bro th erly a c t
And now what have I done
With i t [my house]?
F in a lly , Zifa re a liz e s his house is fa lle n and th a t he alone is
responsible fo r breaking the c o n tin u ity with Nature. With the f a l l of
his house his id e n tity has slipped away and he must "find a new place
of re st" (p. 118). A fter his fin a l so lilo q u y , Zifa heads fo r the
beach in a daze. The th ird neighbor confirms the d estru ctio n of the
House of Zifa:
Where is the man going has brought th is ruin
On his head? (p. 118)
Orukorere collapses lik e "a bundle of rags" refusing a s sista n c e . "Let
me l i e , " she says, "in the ruins they have / Wrought between them."
117
The second neighbor suggests they follow Z ifa, which apparently they do
because when Dode arriv e s only the fourth neighbor and Orukorere are
present (as happens a ll too freq u en tly , there is no stage d ire ctio n
h e r e ) .
The appearance of Dode provides a bridging passage between the
development section and the re c a p itu la tio n se c tio n . I t also furnishes
Clark with an opportunity to pull together his imagery (lig h t-d a rk n e ss,
serp en t-g o at, corruption) and link i t to Orukorere's gloom and doom
prophecies, both fo r the House of Zifa and the society as a whole:
Orukorere: There w ill never be lig h t again in th is
House, ch ild th is is the night o f our race. (p. 119)
I looked fo r a s t a f f
Long enough to k ill a serpent [Ebiere] I knew
Was stra n g lin g my goat [Zifa].
This l a s t passage echoes her e a r l i e r remarks in the second movement
about "the leopard th a t w ill devour my goat" (p. 90). In th a t passage,
the leopard would seem to have been Zifa and the goat, Ebiere. Now
th a t Zifa has been cuckolded, he has become the victim (goat).
Dode's concern is t h a t he and his playmates had missed the
s a c rif ic e :
. . . I wanted so much to hold
the hind legs while Father stru ck , (p. 119)
The irony of th is statem ent lie s in the fa c t th a t i t was Tonya who held
the f e e t of the goat while Zifa severed i t s head. Tonya had, in e f fe c t
become Dode's surrogate in the performance of a mock r i t u a l . By not
being presen t, Dod has avoided sacrileg io u s contamination leaving the
door of Z if a 's ruined house a ja r fo r possible fu rth e r re c o n c ilia tio n
118
with the s p i r i t world. The lin es are ambiguous, however, and th e ir
meaning a m atter of in te rp re ta tio n . Dode's main function here in the
46
bridging passage is for emotional e f fe c t.
A fourth neighbor—appearing for the f i r s t time—announces
E biere's m iscarriage. Orukorere c a lls th is l a t e s t d is a s te r "another
blow . . . d e a lt the tre e of our house." Up to th is point Orukorere
has hoped in the possible redemption of the House of Zifa through
s a c r if ic e . She now uses E biere's m iscarriage as a sign th a t the
sickness of one individual portends sickness in the world around him:
see / How the sap pours out to spread our death. I
Believe i t , now I believe i t . White ants
Have passed t h e i r dung on our. roof-top.
Like a tre e ro tten in the ra in , i t
Topples, (p. 119)
In her fin al couplet Orukorere reminds us th a t Z ifa 's house is a c u lt-
house of which she is the d iv in er and in which a "totem" resides ( i . e . ,
►
a carved mask or fig u rin e , usually in the form of a f is h ; the tr ib e
[ibe 3 holds on to th is totem fo r support in times of good fo rtu n e).
"What totem," she asks, "is th ere l e f t now?" By th is she implies th a t
the p ro te ctiv e s p i r i t (oru) residing in the totem has departed from
the v illa g e because Zifa has brought poison (sei d i r i , bad medicine)
into the cult-house. In such cases Ijaw tr a d itio n requires th a t the
totem be discarded or ignored, perhaps un til the d eity "returns" a t
some fu tu re time and is re su sc ita te d by making i t s presence known
through the diagnosis o f a d iv in er (burokeme) O r u k o r e r e has served
as th a t d iv in er but, since her diagnostic a b i l i t i e s are on the wane
along with her power of changing the course of Fate, she no longer
119
possesses the s p ir itu a l power ( kro) th a t w ill enable her to read the
divining paraphernalia and p re d ic t the return of the d e ity . When the
fourth neighbor t r i e s to re s tr a in Dode from seeing his mother,
Orukorere intervenes:
Do not seek to stop him. Let the antelope
Run before the hunters a r riv e , (p. 120)
Dode, e i t h e r because o f his age o r his innocence, is not y e t enmeshed
in the fam ily 's net o f e v i l . There is s t i l l the p o s s i b i l i t y he w ill
escape r e trib u tio n . This is why Orukorere refers to him as an
antelope ( a g ira ), the only instance in the e n tire play in which a
metaphor employs an innocent animal, n e ith e r predator nor prey. The
"hunters" y e t to a rriv e are the Fates who are about to descend upon
the House of Zifa in the fin al segment of the movement.
The return of the th ird neighbor (p. 120), following
Orukorere's exchange with Dode, marks the re c a p itu la to ry section o f
the fourth movement. I t corresponds roughly to the l a s t "act" of a
symphony, where the themes return in modified form, but are in the
o r ig in a l, or exposition key o f the "heroic" f i r s t theme. In th is
final section o f C lark's play, then, the themes f i r s t s ta te d in the
e x p o s itio n --Z ifa 's i n f e r t i l i t y and the curse m otif—are re v is ite d
but transposed to r e f l e c t the d isruption o f the natural rhythms and
cosmic balances of the e n tire community. Z if a 's perversion of the
cleansing and s a c rif ic e r i t u a l s , and the violence th a t ensues, finds
i t s logical extension in the demands o f Fate for r e tr ib u tiv e ju s t i c e .
120
Orukorere and the chorus of neighbors are on stage. Orukorere
speaks of "the rain over the sea tonight" (p. 120). I t is not a
cleansing ra in , as one might expect in tr a d itio n a l drama a f t e r such
tra g ic happenings, but a f ie r c e , d isru p tiv e outpouring of force th a t
is to be taken as a sign of cosmic wrath:
Orukorere: This outpouring should be impression
Indeed. Here only waves pour out
On waves, only dunes upon dunes, (p. 120)
The th ird neighbor is relieved to hear th a t Orukorere understands the
sig n ifican ce of the storm since i t will make her rep o rt e a sie r:
Third Neighbour: The sea has submerged
Us; because we are a ll thereunder I can
Deliver my burden with l i t t l e cry. (p. 120)
Orukorere, in her ro le as se e r, already knows the g is t of what the
messenger will say. Having heard "the ro ll of thunder out to sea,"
Orukorere suspects Zifa was struck by lig h tn in g . The second neighbor
says the thunder was "the lowing of a ship coming in ." Orukorere
takes th is to mean th a t the ancestors (opu duwoiyou) have come and
taken Zifa to the v illa g e of the dead. The f i r s t neighbor expresses
su rp rise a t O rukorere's foreknowledge but Orukorere t e l l s the neighbors
to get on with "the manner of my son's going f o rth ." What follows is
the th ird neighbor's account of Z ifa 's suicide using the "messenger"
convention of Greek drama.
In Greek tragedy v io le n t actions such as suicide were
customarily performed o ff-sta g e , then revealed by the eccylema--a small
wooden platform on wheels on which a kind of tableau was mounted—or
reported by a messenger or other w itnesses. Sophocles used the
12 4,
eccylema to represent a desolate place near the shore. Clark, in the
account of Z if a 's su icid e, seems to have combined both th e a tr ic a l
48
conventions within the s e ttin g s of an Ijaw fish in g community.
From the th ird neighbor—who' serves as stand-in fo r the
messenger convention—we learn th a t Zifa has gone down to the sea "as
one in sle e p ." He does not feel thunder and rain as other men feel
them; n a tu re 's element, in his deranged mind, become symbols under
which he can find a s o rt of s h e lte r .
Third Neighbour: . . . P resently, fording the sands,
W e saw him reach the w a te r's edge. Ju st then
That noise you said you heard as d is ta n t
Thunder ro lle d out to where we stood, (p. 121)
But, the thunder here is not only the sound of the elements; i t is also
the sound of "A steamer c a llin g out fo r a p i l o t / To pass beyond the
b ar." Zifa r a i l s ag ain st the s h ip 's horn:
Blow / Blow, s ire n s , blow . . .
And blow t i l l your hooting drown
The moaning of the sea. No blow
Will be stronger, (p. 121) 4 9
Z ifa 's rage ag ain st the elements-cum-ship's sire n i s in d ic a tiv e of his
f ru s tra tio n and despair in the face o f a "malevolent supernatural"
which he does n o t understand. His fin al words are ones of defiance
d irected a t an iron ship, the concrete symbol of a s p ir itu a l world th a t
has become incomprehensible: ". . . You may blow and hoot," Zifa
answered.back,
from here to the other shore
But I w ill not come to you tonight.
Your th ro a t may be iro n , your flesh
Iron. But th a t is not i t . . . (p. 122)
122
So, in the end Zifa commits su icid e by drowning him self in the sea.
The curse has come fu ll c i r c l e but there is no redemption e ith e r fo r
the individual or fo r the so cie ty . A sea of troubles has inundated
th is community and l e f t i t to r o t. The lig h t o f l i f e has gone out and
the creatu res of darkness have taken over: h o u se file s, b a ts , owls,
stalk in g leopards, e tc . These are " fo re st things" (bouyei) which the
Ijaw believe human beings must avoid d ire c t contact with on pain of
50
il l n e s s and possible death. Z if a 's acknowledgement of t h e i r presence
in his fin al solioquy i s , th e re fo re , c u ltu ra lly appropriate for the
dramatic/symbolic impact Clark wishes to e f fe c t.
Orukorere, on hearing the d e ta ils of Z ifa 's s u ic id e , c a lls
upon the god, Umaloku, to "look to my boy," but she d o e sn 't know for
which suicide to in te rc e d e , Zifa or Tonya. Both have contributed to
the disharmony w ithin the cosmos. The ru p tu re, however, is not cured
by Z ifa 's mock r itu a l of appeasement nor by his re p a ra tiv e suicide.
These are but the f i r s t a c ts of a resumed awareness, an invocation of
the p rin c ip le of cosmic adjustm ent, not the adjustment i t s e l f .
Orukorere knows th is but does not know on whom to c a ll now th a t the
trib a l totemVis gone:
Houseflies are not
Known to answer a c a ll a t night
So on whom then sh a ll I c a ll? (p. 122)
The s p ir itu a l world is h o s tile because Zifa has died in very v io le n t
circum stances, outside his home. By Ijaw c r ite r io n he i s , th e re fo re ,
51
an evil man who can never be buried. His death, instead of ridding
the community of co rruption, has proved a negative and d e stru c tiv e
123
force. This is s ig n ifie d by the 1ight-darkness imagery which closes
th is play, The second neighbor hands Orukorere a lamp to lig h t her
way in "out of the night dew" (p. 122). Orukorere demands i t be taken
away comparing h e rs e lf to a sta tu e "discovered among ru in s ," an a r t i
fa c t to be wondered a t but not worshipped. Like Cassandra she has lo s t
her s ta tu r e as prophetess and no longer wishes to be viewed in th a t
lig h t by the community:
Orukorere: Recognition th e re fo re has become a thing
For houseflies an d ,b ats, is i t ? I say,
Let there be no l i g h t again in th is house, (p. 122)
At th is ju n c tu re , the stage d ire c tio n s read: "She snatches the o il lamp
and dashes i t to the ground." This action marks the coda and end of
the cycle of evil th a t has plagued the House of Zifa in th is play. In
her fin al plea to the neighbors, Orukorere c r y p tic a lly re fe rs to the
avenging Fates as "black b ird s ." The in te rp re ta tio n of the l a s t four
lin es is vague due to th e i r odd lex ical usage and grammatical s tr u c
ture:
You see black birds whose immortal
Knot both my sons have tie d and slung
Have gathered the lo o t, a ll the lo o t,
And l e f t behind not one seed of my f r u i t , (p. 123)
"Tied" and "slung" are the key words here; they re fe r to the Greek
legend of the Gordian knot. Gordius, i t w ill be re c a lle d , was the
mythological founder of Phrygia, who tie d an i n t r i c a t e knot in a
ch a rio t thong, the untying of which was pronounced by o racle to be
possible only to one destined to be master of Asia. Either Clark has
m isinterpreted the legend, or he has reversed i t s Western meaning.
124
I suspect the l a t t e r in te rp re ta tio n because i t coincides with the Ijaw
framework of e x isten c e, what Soyinka labels the African sense of
52
"irre d u c ib le herm eticism ." To be understood properly, Orukorere's
quatrain must be juxtaposed ag ain st the Masseur's s im ila r knot imagery
from the f i r s t movement. In his counsel to Ebiere the Masseur had
advised th a t:
[Zifa] should make you over
to his younger brother. T h a t'll be a retying
Of knots, not a breaking or loosening
Of them. (p. 77)
The Masseur's statem ent means th a t Z ifa 's fam ily, by i t s deviations
from harmonious conduct, has succeeded in unravelling the extremely
i n t r i c a t e knot of in te rre la tio n s h ip s th a t binds man to the cosmos.
By submitting to the proper r i t u a l s surrounding surrogate p a te rn ity
Zifa has an opportunity of "retying" the knots and f u l f i l l i n g his
d e stin y —im o rta lity through descendants. The Masseur's remarks would
seem to be a n tith e tic a l to Orukorere's here; in r e a l i t y Orukorere's
statem ent a t the close o f the fin a l movement is the d e fa u lt fu lfillm e n t
of the Masseur's prophecy. Both Zifa and TonyS ("my sons"), by th e ir
transgressions of Ijaw tr a d itio n and r i t u a l , have entangled themselves
("tie d ") in a knot of ro tte n strands so involved as not to be e a s ily
unravelled by p r o p itia tio n . Their knot remains suspended ("slung")
from the strands of unity th a t bind man to the cosmos. The Fates
("immortals") then reneged on t h e i r g i f t of immortality ("gathered up
the lo o t") leaving behind no leg itim ate descendants to the House of
Zifa ("not one seed of my f r u i t " ) . The neighbors, g u ilty because of
125
the "visceral intertw ining of each individual with the fa te of the
53
e n tire community," have become a corrupted so cie ty . The hopeless
fatalism with which they accept the catastrophe ("we understand" and
"tomorrow is a heavier day") makes the prospect of re c o n c ilia tio n with
the cosmos seem remote indeed. The world of the play has been too
s i n i s t e r and com fortless fo r any warmth to come "among the ruins in /
The su n -set day."
Thus ends the fin a l movement of Song of a Goat. C ertainly i t
is drama admirably framed: four movements, in symphonic form, as seen
through the f i l t e r of Ijaw tra d itio n and c u ltu re . But the "finale"
does not r e a lly retu rn to the cy clic rhythm customary in the symphonic
form. The coda, introduced by Orukorere's action of dashing the oil
lamp to the ground, creates a h o rrib le disco rd , a deficiency in the
c l a r i t y of the harmony th a t should e x is t between the cosmos and man.
The Fates, here, have become tru ly malevolent and there is no in d ica
tion of how the process of cosmic adjustment may begin. W e are l e f t
with a sense o f "waste without a s o lu tio n ," a condition foreign to the
Ijaw sense of in te r r e la tio n with Nature. The play in i t s present form,
th e re fo re , is both s tr u c tu r a lly and philoso p h ically truncated. I t
needs a conclusion which b e tte r serves the p la y 's s p a tia l a rc h ite c tu re .
A lternative Close
One of the in trig u in g things about Song of a Goat is th a t
Clark does provide an a lte r n a tiv e ending. His in stru c tio n s read, "in
place of the l a s t three lin es [of the chorus of Neighbours], for those
who want the Masseur back!" Several questions immediately a r is e : W hy
126
an a lte r n a tiv e ending? Why bring back the Masseur a t a l l ? Does the
a lte r n a tiv e ending t e l l us anything about C lark's in t e r e s t in Fate?
If my i n i t i a l hypothesis about th is play is valid--nam ely, th a t the
p la y 's s tru c tu re of meaning is cast in the symphonic mold--then the
a lte r n a tiv e ending makes sense: i t provides Clark with ad ditional means
fo r fu rth e r emphasis on the Ijaw concept of Fate and i t s fu lfillm e n t;
i t completes the kind of stru c tu ra l c ir c u la r ity inherent in the
symphonic mode; i t dramatizes the thematic conjunction of the p la y 's
circum centric social themes. F in a lly , the a lte rn a tiv e ending brings
to g eth er, fo r the f i r s t time, the two d iv in ers in the play, th e
54
Masseur and Orukorere. Their importance to the p la y 's so cial themes
should a t th is point be s e lf-e v id e n t, since th e ir diagnostic a b i l i t i e s
have enabled them to play the pivotal position in th is community
between the observable and the unknown. Each in his own way has
attempted to answer the imponderable questions concerning the fa te of
the House of Zifa: why Zifa is impotent, why Ebiere is barren, why
surrogate fatherhood needs r itu a l sanction, why the community needs
cleansing. Both d iviners have had the means of determining Z ifa 's
fa te by changing his agreement with Wonyinghi (C reator): the Masseur in
his ro le of "presser" (i y o l o l i ), by massaging the stomach of Ebiere
and, in his ro le of d iv in er (burokerne) , by recommending a surrogate.
Orukorere, with her knowledge derived from visions and from an under
standing the language o f birds and animals, has t r i e d to d ire c t Zifa
towards the method of soothing the appropriate s p ir itu a l powers. But,
as a kind of in-house prophetess, personally involved in the s p ir itu a l
127
sickness she is trying to h eal, Orukorere was bound to be disbelieved
and u ltim ately to f a i l . She, lik e the prophet, "is not w ithout honor,
save in his own country, and in his own house." She in te rp re te d Z ifa 's
problem p rin c ip a lly in the lig h t of gossip or fa c ts commonly known in
Z ifa 's clan . The Masseur, on the other hand, is a d iv in e r- a t- la rg e ,
an " itin e r a n t," whose attempt to help the community was based on his
frien d sh ip with Z ifa 's fa th e r:
I massaged your own fa th e r when we were
Both supple and strong to g eth er. . . . (p. 84);
his concern with tra d itio n :
You [Ebiere] do not
Know the ways of our land. . . . (p. 78)
. . . What I
Suggest our fath e rs did not forbid even in days
of old. (p. 85);
and, most im portantly, his sense of the cosmic in te rre la te d n e ss of all
th in g s, the liv in g and the dead:
Oh you dead
And gone, take your f a t and flesh
But leave us our skin and bones, (p. 8 6 )
I t is fo r these reasons th a t he is greeted by Orukorere, a t the
beginning of the a lte r n a tiv e c lo se , as "manipulator / Of broken bones
and fle sh torn out of jo in t" (p. 124), a m u lti-le v e lle d reference to
his roles of "p re sser," healer and o racle. The Masseur greets
Orukorere by her p raise names, re c a llin g her past favor with the
water d e itie s :
Masseur: Daughter of Umaloku, the d elig h t
of God and pride of unguents,
W hom the merpeople d e sire . . . . (P. 124)
128
The M asseur's announcement th a t he comes "Ahead o f the snail and
to rto is e " is an in d icatio n th a t his powers of d iv in atio n remain in ta c t.
He is , in f a c t , the new d iv in er who will recognize the re tu rn of the
s p i r i t , Orukorere confirms t h i s with a referen ce to his cult-house
(w art):
Orukorere: Then you come with your house
Entire upon your head, (p, 124)
and to the passing of her own powers of d iv in atio n :
I r e c a ll nothing. Why,
In my head th ere breeds a consort
Of fro g s, , , , (p, 124)
At the clo se of the f i n a l movement Orukorere had compared h e rse lf to
a s ta tu e unable to recognize the re tu rn of the s p i r i t to the community.
The erosion caused by N ature's elements—wind, f i r e , r a i n - h a d d i s
figured her prophetic fe a tu re s rendering her unrecognizable to the
community:
Orukorere: , , , I know
I have l o s t both my face and limbs, (p. 122)
Now, in the a lte r n a tiv e c lo se , the Masseur recycles these wind, f i r e
and ra in images—which he had i n i t i a l l y used in the f i r s t movement—
mentioning the "iroko" (a larg e te a k - lik e tr e e r e s i s ta n t to decay).
His words re c a ll O rukorere's fo u rth movement reference to the devouring
white a n ts th a t had toppled the House of Z ifa, She now inquires
whether th ere is indeed anything l e f t to hold onto "for support or
cover" since a ll about her is in ruin:
Orukorere: All around, I smell only grass
Running to flames, sand to water, (p, 125)
129
The Masseur answers th a t the ra in and f i r e have stripped the society
naked, an in dication th a t the process of adjustment can now begin.
This leads Orukorere to fe a r th a t the ravaging ra in has destroyed Dode,
the l a s t leg itim a te descendant of Z if a 's lin e .
Orukorere: Dode, now the ra in
Has caught him, too, (p, 125)
Orukorere's fin a l speech is in parable form. She says she
thought a t f i r s t to rebuke the Masseur fo r a rriv in g too l a t e to save
the tragedy ("for coming when the market / I s over"). M asseur's
co nditions fo r sa lv a tio n --su rro g a te p a te rn ity a f t e r proper r it u a l
observance--were too d i f f i c u l t to meet, so things f e l l a p a rt:
Orukorere: Others have made off
With the wares you put a price / O n (p, 125)
Nothing remains but the cruel mockery of Fate:
Orukorere: But now a ll th a t is over and
Only the laughter of wind f i l l s out
In my e a rs, (p. 125)
This is Orukorere's l a s t gasp. She e x its , a d ith e rin g old woman,
seeking her chicken "wet in the r a i n ,"
The remainder of the a lte r n a tiv e close c o n s is ts of a series of
metaphorical exchanges between the Masseur and th e chorus of neighbors.
W e learn th a t the Fates have made a clean sweep of the ro tte n n e ss
in fecting th is so c ie ty ( " i t has been a clean f i r e " ) ; th a t i t was the
Fates, not the Masseur, who were responsible fo r the devastation:
Masseur: This was no f i r e begun
By ordinary hand, All f i r e cones
From God, e lse why the thunder, (p. 126)
130
Ebiere ("the young woman / Taken from another clan ") was the i n s t r u
ment ("tin d e r") used by Fate to ig n ite the purifying f i r e . The
M asseur's divining powers were no match fo r F a te 's vengeance,
Masseur: I sought
To bring them water but a ll
I had was a basket, (p, 126)
The neighbors, borrowing images from e a r l i e r movements, comment on
th e ir own helplessness to stop t h i s c o n fla g ra tio n . In his closing
speech the Masseur advises the community n o t to question the workings
of Fate over which they have l i t t l e or no c o n tro l. Life is a puzzle
but since the community has lived through the re c e n t d ev a sta tio n , they
are "ripe / To hazard a crack a t l i f e ' s n u t," His fin a l admonition
brings back the Gordian knot imagery which serves to link-up a ll the
movements:
Do not, my people, venture overmuch
Else in unravelling the knot, you
Entangle yourselves. I t is enough
You know now th a t each day we liv e
Hints a t why we cried out a t b ir th , (p. 126)
The neighbors in th e ir exodus paraphrase th e i r previous statements in
the fin a l movement about understanding and darkness but without the
tone of hopeless fa ta lis m . The a l t e r n a t iv e c lo se ends as the play
had begun with the Masseur back in his r o le of "p re sse r," only instead
of kneading E b iere's womb with his f in g e rs , he now synthesizes the
p la y 's philosophical concerns in a sin g le statement:
Home or on strand,
Tomorrow fo r you sp e lls another day
And the s tr a i n , the stren g th of the band, (p, 127)
131
In other words, d esp ite man's re sista n c e to the s tre s s e s and s tra in s
inherent in his re la tio n s h ip with the cosmos, these tensions serve to
make man more aware of those external forces which circumscribe his
being.
Cone!usion
This presen tatio n of the interwoven modes of dramaturgy in
Song of a Goat c o n s titu te s , in one sense, an " in te rp re ta tio n " of i t .
I t is not, of course, the only in te rp re ta tio n but i t is one which
clo sely r e f le c ts a reading of the te x t ag ain st the backdrop of Ijaw
so cie ty and Western dramatic/symphonic forms and ideas. But to what
end? What is Clark try in g to accomplish by th is c ro ss -c u ltu ra l
fusion of African and Western a r t i s t i c modes? The answer, I suspect,
lie s in the t i t l e of the play, "Song" of a Goat. Western scholars
have frequently reminded us th a t tragedy as a genre is tra ceab le to
the A ttic term for goat song ( trag o id ia ); i t seems to have referred
o rig in a lly to totemic r i t u a l , the s a c r if ic e of a goat to Dionysus.
(The goat was apparently also given as a prize in e a rly dramatic
c o n te s ts .) A r is to tle traced tragedy to the s a ty r plays in which the
characters were half-man, h a lf-g o a t. Eventually, the term tragedy was
applied to a ll plays of high serio u sn ess, with or without an unhappy
55
ending. Since th is type of totemic r itu a l a c tu a lly takes place in
C lark's play, i t seems safe to assume he has the orig in s of Greek
tragedy in mind.
In my own research into Ijaw folk music I have been unable to
56
turn up any p a r tic u la r goat "song." The id e n tific a tio n of a s p e c ific
132
song is not re a lly the issue here, however, j u s t as f e rre tin g out the
p a r tic u la r symphony Clark was thinking of when he wrote his play would
be a m atter of f u t i l e speculation. M y own experience with the Kikuyu
and WaChagga peoples of East A frica reminds me th a t the chants which
are sung when goats are slaughtered often have l i t t l e or nothing to
do with the animal i t s e l f ; ra th e r the chants are general invocations
of anim ist d e itie s , sung interchangeably on occasions of high
serio u sn ess—circumcision ceremonies, h arv ests, weddings, fu n e ra ls.
I suspect th a t C lark's use of the t i t l e i s , lik e his use of the goat
s tu ffin g scene i t s e l f in the fin a l movement, meant to in d ic a te th a t
t h is play, these ch a ra c te rs, th is dramatic rhythm is to be viewed as
"trag ic" in a fundamental sense. The p la y 's tra g ic elements are
rooted inth e^early re lig io u s and magical ceremonies of the Ijaw people
in much the same way as the roots of European drama go back to the
Egyptian O siris and the Greek Dionysius. Therefore, any evaluation of
the play re q u ire s, on the p a rt of the Western observer, an imaginative
leap in to the m atrical consciousness of the Ijaw world.
Much of the c ritic is m of C lark's play, which I have alluded to
e a r l i e r in th is chapter, has centered upon the fa c t th a t C lark's
j u s t i f i c a t i o n of the fa te of his ch aracters is u n satisfa c to ry and,
therefore,.his play cannot be judged a tru e tragedy. Typical of th is
viewpoint are Anthony Astrachan's remarks:
. . . the basis of the tragedy is not c le a r. Is
Z if a 's impotence a f t e r he has fathered one ch ild
punishment fo r an offence? An offence o f Z ifa 's
and one by his fa th e r are h in ted , but never given
enough emphasis to bear the burden of tragedy.
133
Perhaps impotence is an offence in i t s e l f in a
society where f e r t i l i t y is a l l ; the sexual and
a g ric u ltu ra l imagery strengthens th is suspicion.
But th ere is no action on Z ifa 's p art th a t brings
him low. He even f a i l s in his attempt to k ill
his brothei— and i t seems to me to ask too much of
the reader or sp e c ta to r to think th a t Tonya's
suicide is caused by Z if a 's p u rsu it of him.
Tonya k i l l s himself because he has offended his
brother or dishonoured his fam ily, not because--
a t le a s t not only because—he is a fra id of Z if a 's 5 7
wrath. Z ifa 's tragedy is a tragedy without cause.
Nothing could be fu rth e r from the t r u t h , as I have endeavored to show
in th is chapter. A strachan's assessment is based on the premise th a t
tragedy must conform to Western l i t e r a r y models. Though he q u ite
c o rre c tly points out the elements in C lark's play, Astrachan f a i l s to
recognize th a t the various id e n tif ia b le p arts are linked by organic
t i e s w ithin the work. He d ecla re s, "Perhaps impotence is an offence
in i t s e l f in a society where f e r t i l i t y is a l l . " And he adds, "Z ifa's
tragedy is a tragedy without a cause." These statem ents are mani
f e s tly s u p e rf ic ia l; they reveal an ignorance of or an in d iffe re n c e to
the playw right's indigenous sources and to his special non-Western
adaptation of Western forms.
Clark has proceeded in the age old Ijaw dramatic fashion,
th a t i s , by in d ire c tio n , a technique th a t permeates dramas of the
Nigerian national rep erto ry , whether th ese be the egungun and oro of
the Yoruba, the egwugwu and masques of the Ibo, or the owu and oru
water masquerades of the Ijaw. In Song of a Goat the technique is
seen, fo r instan ce, in the re la tio n s h ip between the Masseur and Zifa.
The fa c t th a t n e ith e r the d iv in er nor his "p atient" approaches the
134
impotence issue with the "directness of an arrow" does not mean th a t
Clark is unappreciative of the importance of speed and dispatch.
Rather, as Clark s ta te s in his essay on "Aspects of Nigerian Drama,"
I t is the recognition by [the playwright] of a
liv in g convention observed among the people o f
the community tre a te d in the play, namely, th a t
you do not rush in where angels fe a r to tread fo r
the simple reason th a t the flying arrow e ith e r
k i l l s promptly or sends the bird in f l i g h t .
Accordingly, d e lic a te issues are handled d e lic a te ly
by these p eo p le.58
Clark, in oth er words', has attempted to c re a te a credibly hermetic
m ilieu w ithin which the trapped individual can be observed in his
dilemma. And Z ifa 's dilemma touches such a v arie ty of is s u e s --s e x u a l,
s o c ie ta l, m etaphysical—th a t his downfall can only be seen as tr a g ic .
Two elements are generally considered to be e sse n tia l to
tragedy: high seriousness, b e f ittin g m atters in which survival is a t
issu e, and involvement of the e n tire community in m atters of ultim ate
and common concern. Song of a Goat, as I have shown, contains these
two elements, though in a manner "foreign" to tr a d itio n a l Western
perception. Impotence with i t s ram ificatio n s does not have the same
kind of cu ltu ra l sig n ifican ce fo r Western man as i t does in Ijaw
so cie ty . Clark himself has indicated th is :
The business of reproduction, of f e r t i l i t y , is a
l i f e and death m atter in my home area. I f a man
do esn 't bear, he has not lived. And when he is
dead, nobody w ill think of him. Whereas here
[in the United S ta te s ] , you have other in te r e s ts
and preoccupations which have made you le ss con
cerned with the issue o f pro creatio n , and the
sense of survival a f t e r death th a t we derive
from i t . 59
135
Survival a f te r death through one's o ffsp rin g , then, is a m atter of
deep moral concern. A rupture in a man's normal sexual function not
only endangers his immortality but th reaten s the ex istence of the
e n tire community with whom his l i f e is in e x tric a b ly bound. In tu rn ,
a breakdown in the moral order o f the community implies a d isru p tio n
in the body of Nature. This is why the v io la tio n of the taboo against
in c e st is le ss a cause fo r tra g ic concern than is Z if a 's h u b ris . His
se lf-d e lu sio n and s t e r i l e pride prevent the p rocreative process from
continuing within his family. The processes of co n tin u ity w ithin the
community are e f fe c tiv e ly blocked and, by extension, disharmony is
created within the cosmos. Thus, Z if a 's hubris is morally rep re
hensible; i t brings about his downfall, y es, but fa r more s e rio u s ly ,
i t wrecks the community:
Third Neighbour: The sea has submerged
Us; because we are a ll thereunder I can
Deliver my burden with l i t t l e cry. (p. 120)
This is not to say th a t the burden of the c r i s i s r e s ts e n t i r e ly on
Z ifa 's shoulders. The passion o f Tonya and Ebiere and Fate i t s e l f are
also prime agents. But in th is hermetic milieu moral d iso rd e r is not
simply a m atter of a n tiso c ia l acts--T onya's unsanctioned possession of
Ebiere, or E biere's re v o lt against the s tr i c t u r e s of an a lie n clan.
These are indeed acts of h u b ris tic a ssertiv en ess and co n trib u te power
f u lly to the comprehensive d is a s te r a t the end, but they do not
threaten existence i t s e l f . Z if a 's hubris does. I t is his " s e lf -
delusion and s t e r i l e pride" which ultim ately puts the processes of
136
Ijaw so ciety out of balance with the rhythm of Nature and bring about
F a te 's impersonal and i r r e s i s t i b l e re trib u tio n .
If, in the African world-view, " tra g ic fa te is the r e p e titiv e
cycle of the taboo in n atu re, the karmic act o f hubris w ittin g or
unw itting, in to which the demonic will w ithin man constantly compels
60
him," then Z if a 's taboo is based on an elementary form of h u b ris .
He re je c ts the so lu tio n to his impotence because, lik e his fa th e r and
grandfather before him, tr a d itio n and the bubble reputation rankle his
pride. His s in , then, is more than simple defiance; i t is one of
excessive daring, of exceeding the proper lim its of the individual
w ithin what Soyinka lab els an "hermetic universe of forces of being."
Z ifa, in the fin a l a n a ly sis, is as t r u l y t r a g ic , m utatis
mutandis, as Agamemnon was to Aeschylus' Athenians or Hamlet was to
Shakespeare's England. But in order to recognize Zifa as a tra g ic
hero--and Song of a Goat as a tru e tragedy r a th e r than melodrama—the
Western observer must plug in to the playw right's indigenous sources
and to his special non-Western adaptation of Western forms. Only then
w ill the w h istle s, hums and rhythms th a t sound through the tangled
switchboard of c ro ss -c u ltu ra l lin e s make c r i t i c a l / a e s t h e t i c sense
o utside A frica.
137
CHAPTER II FOOTNOTES
Atiboroko Uyovbukerhi, "Ritual in J. P. C lark's Drama," in
Ba S h iru , 7, No. 1 (1976), 42. Among the lin g u is tic - c u ltu r a l sources
I have consulted, I am p a r tic u la rly indebted to the following works:
E. J. Alagoa, A History of the Niger Delta: An H isto rical I n te rp r e ta
tio n of Ijo Oral Tradition (Ibadan, N igeria: Ibadan U niversity Press,
1972); Boma Ibi-Egberi Amasoye, The Future of the Ijaw Language and
I ts D ialects (Vienna: Amasoye P riv ate P rin tin g Press [Wein, O esterr.
In s t. f . Bibliotheksforschung], 1972); Boma I Amasoye, The Rivers
People of Nigeria (Vienna: Amasoye P riv ate P rinting Press, 1972); Kay
Williamson, A Grammar of the Kolokuma D ialect of Ijo (Cambridge, Eng. :
Cambridge U niversity Press, 1965), and "Languages of the Niger D elta,"
Nigeria Magazine, No. 97 (1968); P h ilip E. Leis, Enculturation and
S o c ia liz a tio n in an Ijaw V illage (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston.
In c ., 1972); G. E. 0. Tiemo, Egbema-Ijo Customs and T ra d itio n s ,
Occasional Publication No. 17, In st, of African Studies (Ibadan,
Nigeria: U niversity of Ibadan Press, 1968). All quotations from Song
of a Goat are from J. P. Clark, Song of a Goat, in Plays From Black
A fric a , ed. Fredric M . L itto (New York: Hill and Wang, 1968).
2
Lloyd W . Brown, "Sutherland and Aidoo: The Theatre as
T ra d itio n ," Proc. of the F ir s t Abadan Annual African L ite ra tu re
Conference, Ibadan, N igeria, 6-10 July 1976, p. 2.
3
S ir Tyrone Guthrie, "The Art o f T heatre," New Encyclopaedia
B ritannica: Macropaedia, 1978 ed.
4
Martin Ess!in, "Two Nigerian Playwrights: Wole Soyinka;
J. P. Clark," in Introduction to African L ite r a tu r e , ed. U lli Beier
(London: Longman, 1970), p. 259.
C
See Wilfred Cartey, Whispers From a Continent (New York,
1969), p. 341; Anthony Astrachan, "Like Goats to the S lau g h ter," in
Black Orpheus, 16 (October 1964), p. 22; Oyin Ogumba, "Modern Drama in
West A frica," in Christopher Heywood's C ritic a l Perspectives on
African L ite ra tu re (New York, 1971), pp. 92, 94; Una Maclean, "Song
of a Goat," Ibadan, 14 (October 1962), 28-29.
138
Bernth Lindfors, e d ., Palaver: Interviews with Five African
W riters in Texas, Occasional Publication No. 3, African and Afro-
American Research I n s t . , The U niversity of Texas (Austin, U niversity
of Texas Press, 1972), p. 16.
7Boma I. Amasoye, The Rivers People of Nigeria (Vienna:
Amasoye P rivate P rinting Press, 1972), pp. 38-39, 51.
O
Amasoye, pp. 45-46, e t passim.
9
"Symphony," The Oxford Companion to Music, e d ., Percy A.
Scholes (London: Oxford U niversity Press, 1970), p. 999.
^"Symphony," The Oxford Companion to Music, p. 1000.
11
Sonata form" is a technical term fo r a movement with a
sp e c ific kind of s tr u c tu r e , whether th a t movement is p art of a
symphony, concerto, q u a rte t or a sonata i t s e l f . In the c la s s ic mold,
the form resembles a th re e act play with two themes as a c to rs. See
Henry Anatole Grunwald, "The Rich World o f Music," in An Introduction
to the Story of Great Music (New York: Time In c ., 1966), pp. 48-49.
12
"Sonata," The Oxford Companion to Music, p. 964.
13
Amasoye, p. 46.
^ P h i l i p E. Leis, Enculturation and S o c ia liz a tio n in an Ijaw
Village (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, In c ., 1972), p. 31.
* \ e i s , p. 25.
1 6L eis, p. 29.
*7If massaging and im itativ e actions f a il to produce pregnancy,
s t e r i l i t y may be a ttr ib u te d to other types of causes by the Ijaw.
P h ilip Leis explains:
In the agreement between the teme [soul] of a woman and
Wonyinghi [C reator], the teme may have asked th a t i f the
woman remains barren a ll her l i f e , or not become pregnant
again a f t e r deliv erin g one ch ild . A second cause could
be an o ru 1s displeasure a t some offense. Thirdly,
so rcerers are believed to incur barrenness by employing
1 3 a
17 (C-ont'd.)
"bad medicine" or by n a ilin g an undefinable "something"
to a tre e th a t is believed to "pin" the victim so she
cannot conceive. A rope can also be placed across the
road and the name of the victim spoken, thereby "tying"
her and preventing conception. A so rcerer can dig up
and use the body of an in fa n t to induce subsequent
barrenness for i t s mother. This p o s s ib ility explains
why children dying in infancy were thrown into the riv e r
to dispose of them, but under B ritish law the p ra c tic e
was outlawed. A fin al cause may be an offended ancestor
or the ancient ancestors of the v illa g e who wish to
sig n ify t h e i r d isp le a su re . In a ll these cases a diviner
is sought to p rescribe the medicines and, in many in
stan ces, perform the r it u a l s necessary to r e c tif y the
tran sg ressio n or counteract the e v il.
Leis, pp. 31-32.
1 8 Leis, p. 8 8 .
Leis, p. 18.
2 0 Leis, p. 25
21
Amasoye, p. 35.
Uyovbukerhi, "Ritual in C lark's Drama," p. 35.
23
Boma I. Amasoye, in h is commentary on the evolution of the
relig io u s p ractices of the Rivers' clans of N igeria, s ta te s th a t the
circumstances in which a person met his death, and even the position
in which his body was found a t death also determined the q u a lity of
his m orality. These signs also indicated whether the person was good
or e v i l . Amasoye continues:
The c r ite r io n was th a t good men die le ss v io le n tly than
do evil men. The good men die more q u ie tly because,
they have gentle s p i r i t s and th e ir s p i r i t s are e n th u sia s
t i c a l l y welcomed in the s p ir itu a l world. Hence they
usually die face up, and one can see the peaceful gentle
smiles on t h e i r faces.
On the co n trary , evil men die v io le n tly because the
s p ir itu a l world is also h o s tile towards them. I t is
through these h o s tile receptions th a t they receive in
the s p ir itu a l world th a t account fo r the fa c t th a t
they often die in very v io le n t circumstances. Hence,
14a
most people who die outside t h e i r homes and
e sp e c ia lly in tra g ic circumstances were con
sidered to be n e cessarily e v i l . . . .
In p ra c tic e , people who have been proved to be
evil were never buried. These include a ll men
and women who committed serious crimes against
t h e i r fellow men or the so cie ty .
Amasoye, The Rivers People of N igeria, pp. 36-37.
24
Leis, p. 25.
25
Clark himself has suggested th i s r itu a l connection in the
prologue to his play O zidi. J. P. Clark, Ozidi (London, 1966), p. i i .
Agnatic kinship: Persons re la te d to each other through males.
For a discussion of Ijaw descent groups, see Leis, pp. 12-17.
27
Lucy P h ilip Mair, African S o cieties (Cambridge: Cambridge
U niversity Press [Eng.], 1975), p. 212.
28
All quotations from the O resteia (Agamemnon, The Libation
B earers, The Eumenides) are from the tra n s la tio n by Richard Lattimore,
in Aeschylus I: O resteia (Chicago: Phoenix Books, University of
Chicago P ress, 1953).
2 9 Mair, pp. 212-213.
30
Robert Horton, "African Thought and Western Science" in
A fric a , XXXVII (January 1967), 163.
31
Robert Horton, "Types of S p i r i t Possession in Kalahari
R eligion," in S p i r i t Possession and Mediumship in A fric a , e d ., J. J.
B ea ttie (London, 1969), p. 42.
2 2 L eis, p. 39.
^ \ e i s , p. 49.
34
Hector B erlioz, "Symphony No. 3, Eroica, E -fla t major, opus
55" in Beethoven: A C ritic a l Appreciation of. Beethoven's Nine
Symphonies and His Only 0pera--Fi del io —With Its Four O vertures,
compiled and tra n s . by Ralph De Sola (Boston: Crescendo Publishing
Co., 1975), p. 75.
141
35B e r lio z , p. 19.
3 6 Leis, p. 87.
37LeiS, p. 30.
38
For a complete discussion of the Ijaw notion of the loss of
ob jectiv e ex istence, see Boma I. Amasoye, pp. 67-71.
39
Francis Fergusson, The Idea of a Theatre (Garden C ity, N.Y.:
Doubleday Anchor Books, 1953), p. 125.
An
Leis, pp. 86-87.
41
Sophocles, Antigone, tra n s. Elizabeth Wyckoff, in The
Complete Greek T ragedies, e d ., David Green and Richard Lattimore
(Chicago: U niversity of Chicago P ress, 1959), p. 180.
42 /
Mark Van Doren, "King Lear," in Shakespeare (Garden City,N.Y
Doubleday Anchor Books, 1953), p. 214.
43
Entanglement here combines seduction and s u rp rise with
o u trig h t force. Clytemnestra, i t w ill be re c a lle d , lured Agamemnon
into her "trap" by f l a t t e r y and persuasion. Tonya, in re c o ilin g from
the broken s a c r i f i c i a l p o t, resembles Agamemnon in his relu ctan ce to
step on the gorgeous robe Clytemnestra has spread a t his f e e t (Cf.
Agamemnon, 922-927). Again, Clark has in te rp o la te d his th e a tr ic a l
model and reversed the ro les of the tra d itio n a l ch aracters: Tonya
becomes Agamemnon; Zifa becomes Clytemnestra; Ebiere, f a in tin g , becomes
Cassandra; and Orukorere, abandoning her Cassandra ro le fo r the nonce,
assumes the ro le of choral leader.
44
In running away from the f ig h t with his brother Z ifa, Tonya
is ^u, which English-speaking Ijaw t r a n s la te as "lazy." P h ilip Leis,
however, obeserves th a t the word more accurately describes "someone
who w ill not, or is p hysically unable to , perform c e rta in basic tasks
expected of everyone in the community. In other words, an individual
is not being Ijaw; he is 'inadequate' or ’i n e f f i c i e n t . " 1 Su, defined
in these terms, th e re fo re , Tends a d if f e r e n t connotation to Tonya's
action from what might o rd in a rily be in te rp re te d as cowardice, since
fe a r of pain or danger is not the issu e. Leis, pp. 47-48.
142
45
Jan Kott, in speaking of the Greek concept of madness, points
out th a t madness s ig n if ie s three things: anointment, punishment, or
re v o lt. In Z if a 's case, his madness s ig n if ie s both punishment and
re v o lt; he refuses to accept the s tr i c t u r e s of the Ijaw world and,
th e re fo re , madness is his punishment. Cf. Jan Kott, "Orestes,
E le c tra , Hamlet," in The Eatinq of the Gods (New York: Vintaqe Press,
1974), p. 258.
46
This scene is unusual in i t s use of a c h ild , Dode, for
emotional e f f e c t. The device, however, is sometimes found in Greek
drama, e sp e c ia lly in the plays of Euripides and Sophocles. In
Sophocles' Ajax, fo r instan ce, Ajax has his concubine Tecmessa bring
t h e i r son, Eurysaces, to his te n t. Holding the boy, Ajax hopes h e 'll
be happer than his f a th e r. He in s tru c ts his h a lf-b ro th e r, Teucer,
th a t he is to be responsible for the c h ild a f t e r death—by su icid e,
as i t turns out. He then gives the child to Tecmessa and dismisses
her. Whether Clark had Sophocles' scene in mind when he wrote Dode
in to the Final Movement of Song of a Goat is a moot point.
47
Several commentators have remarked on th is aspect of Ijaw
tr a d it i o n , most notably Amasoye, pp. 40-41, and Leis, p. 27.
^ I t is curious, th a t when the neighbors f i r s t a rriv e to
announce the manner of Z ifa 's death, Orukorere should mention the
p o s s ib ility of his having been struck by lig h tn in g while walking into
the storm:
Orukorere: Say, has/Lightening struck him down th a t walked
Into the storm, his head covered with a basin?
I heard the ro ll of thunder out to sea. (p. 120)
In the S u p p lian ts, Euripides mentioned th a t Capaneus, one of the
heroes, had been k ille d by a b o lt of lig h tn in g from Zeus while scaling
the walls of Thebes. He was buried sep a ra te ly from the oth er heroes
as a consecrated corpse. Here, in Song of a Goat, Clark reverses the
symbolism: Z ifa 's corpse is submerged in a watery grave, unconsecrated,
as his f a t h e r 's had been "in an evil grove." Z ifa, unlike Capaneus,
has become the flotsam of Nature, denied his immortality by not being
remembered by his descendants.
49
I t is perhaps worth noting the presence of sim ila r phrasing
in both King Lear and Macbeth:
143
Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage! Blow!
You c a ta ra c ts and hurricanoes, spout
T ill you have drench'd our s te e p le s , drown'd the cocks!
{Lear: I I I , i i , 1-3)
. . . Blow, wind! come, wrack!
At le a s t w e'll die with harness on our back.
(Macbeth, V, v, 51)
5 0 L e is, p. 27.
51
Amasoye, pp. 36-37.
52
Wole Soyinka, "Drama and the African World-View," in Myth,
L ite ra tu re and the African World (Cambridge: Cambridge U niversity
P ress, 1976), p. 53. ”
53
Soyinka, p. 53.
54
This coupling device is a d e ft in te rp o la tio n of the Calchas-
Cassandra combination in the Agamemnon. Cassandra, the prophetess of
Troy, appears in person, whereas the soothsayer Calchas never a c tu a lly
appears in the Agamemnon, though his prophecies are remembered in the
f i r s t ode by the chorus. I t was Calchas who, lik e the Masseur, had
properly diagnosed the curse th a t hung over the House of Atreus and
who had ordered Iphigenia to be slaughtered on the a l t a r of Artemis
so th a t the Greek f l e e t , becalmed a t A ulis, could s a il on to Troy.
He represents in the Agamemnon the new " g u ilt c u ltu re ," as Dodds c a lls
i t , the dark envy of the god. See E. R. Dodds, "From Shame-Culture to
G uilt-C ulture" in The Greeks and the Irra tio n a l (Berkeley: U niversity
of C alifo rn ia Press, 1951), p. 30. Cassandra^who knows of a past she
has never w itnessed, sees in i t s lig h t the in v is ib le network of
treachery th a t waits fo r Agamemnon and her. Yet n e ith e r prophet has
any d ire c t bearing on Fate or i t s f u lfillm e n t. Once t h e i r perceiving/
p re d ic tiv e functions are done, they have no fu rth e r ro le in the
subsequent action o f the tragedy. Both lose t h e i r powers once:
Calchas to his rival Mopsus before the play opens; Cassandra to
Apollo (1229). The accent here is one o f d esp air, o f b i t t e r emphasis
on the f u t i l i t y of human purposes. I t is not the same with the Masseur
and Orukorere, both of whom express hope in the return of the s p i r i t
of the community.
144
55
George D. Thomson, Aeschylus and Athens: A Study in the
Social Origins of Drama (London: Lawrence and W ishart, 1941); John
Jones, On A r is to tle and Greek Tragedy (New York: Oxford U niversity
Press, 1962); Humphrey D. F. K itto, Greek Tragedy» 3rd ed. (New York:
Barnes & Noble, 1961).
56
See African Music: Journal o f the African Music S o c ie ty ,
Vols. 1 through 5 (1954-1976), e t passim, esp. Laz E. N. Ekwueme,
"Structural Levels of Rhythm and Form in African Music" with
p a r tic u la r reference to the West Coast, No. 4 (1975/76), pp. 27-35;
and Samuel Akpabot, "Standard Drum P atterns in N ig e ria ,", No. 1 (1971),
pp. 37-39.
57
Anthony Astrachan, "Like Goats to the Slaughter," Black
Orpheus, 16 (October 1964), p. 22.
58
John Pepper Clark, "Aspects of Nigerian Drama," in The
Example of Shakespeare (Evanston: Northwestern U niversity Press,
1970), “p. 93.
59
Bernth Lindfors, e d ., Palaver: Interviews With Five
African W riters (Austin, 1972), p. 16.
^ S o y in k a , p. 156.
CHAPTER III
THE BACCHAE OF EURIPIDES: A STUDY OF
W OLE SOYINKA'S ADAPTATION AS
COM M UNION RITE A N D
AETIOLOGICAL D RA M A
Two things s t r i k e one i n i t i a l l y about Soyinka's play: one is
the change in the dramatis personae from the Greek o r ig in a l; the
oth er is the d e ta ile d stage d ire c tio n s sprinkled l ib e r a lly throughout
the t e x t . Both changes provide clues to the p la y 's in te r p r e ta tio n .
In his Introduction to the play Soyinka informs us th a t he
considers The Bacchae "an a e tio lo g ic a l drama w ithin the social
stru g g le ." I t is in th is sense, then, th a t the Chorus of Asian
Bacchae (non-descript follow ers of Dionysus in Euripides) becomes a
Chorus of slav e s; Soyinka suggests they should be a mixed c a s t
" te s tif y in g to t h e i r varied o r ig in s ." The Slave Leader is to be fu lly
negroid "so lely because of the 'h o lle r in g ' s ty le suggested fo r [his]
\
so lo ." This p a r tic u la r type of declamation is analogous to the
"holiness shout," a re lig io u s p ra c tic e common among White Appalachian
fundam entalists and Black B ap tist preachers in the southern United
2
S tates and among sim ila r C hristian s e c ts in the B ritish Commonwealth.
The Bacchantes themselves are separate from the Chorus of Slaves and
provide a second chorus on stage. They are d i s t i n c t from E uripides'
146
band o f Bacchantes hidden from our s ig h t, "whose rr\ysterious acts of
3
stren g th are reported to us in the messenger speeches."
Soyinka makes his second departure from Euripides in the
opening stage d ire c tio n s . B asically , the blocking fo r th is f i r s t
scene is the same as in Euripides, th a t i s , "Before the Royal Palace
a t Thebes."^ However, "the way to Cithaeron" (up stage l e f t ) Soyinka
lin e s with "the bodies of c ru c ifie d slaves mostly in the sk e le ta l
stage" (p. 235). Farther down and in to the wings (stage r i g h t ) ,
Soyinka c a lls fo r a lean -to with a threshing flo o r b u i l t a g ain st the
wall of Pentheus' palace. His d ire c tio n s read:
A cloud of ch a ff, and through i t , dim figures
of slaves f la i l i n g and tread in g . A smell and
sweat of harvest. Ripeness, (p. 235)
Dionysos does not "en ter," as in E uripides, but r a th e r is revealed by
a s p o tlig h t j u s t behind the r is e w ithin the tomb of Semele. Soyinka
describes him thus:
He is a being of calm rugged s tre n g th , of a
rugged beauty, not of effem inate p r e ttin e s s .
Relaxed, as becomes divine se lf-a ssu ra n c e ,
but equally tensed as i f for a c tio n , an arrow
drawn in readiness for f lig h t, (p. 235)
This is not Euripides' Dionysus a t a ll but the Yoruba god Ogun
5
described elsewhere by Soyinka, p a r tic u la r ly in his long poem Id an re.
Euripides describes Dionysus as being "of s o f t , even effem inate,
appearance. His face is b eard less." The c o n tra st between the two
p o rtra y a ls of the god's appearance is s ig n if ic a n t. Although Soyinka,
lik e E u ripides, will choose to s tr e s s the benign aspects of the
Dionysian c u lt, ra th e r than i t s lic e n tio u s a sp ect, he does so in a
147
c
more robust manner. The Pentheus of E uripides' drama c a lls the
v i s i t o r Dionysus "effeminate s tra n g e r," a reference to his mythological
reputation as a bi-sexual d eity . Here in Soyinka's play he appears as
Ogun's younger b ro th e r, the s e lf-c o n tra d ic to ry Yoruba god of th e forge.
In his essay "The Fourth Stage," Soyinka speaks of Ogun in these terms:
As fo r Ogun, he is b est understood in H ellenic
values as a t o t a l i t y of the Dionysian, Appollonian
and Promethean values. Nor is th is a l l . Transcend
ing even today, the d is to rte d myths of his t e r r o r i s t
re p u ta tio n , tr a d itio n a l [Yoruba] poetry records him
as "p ro tec to r of orphans," "roof over th e homeless,"
" t e r r i b l e guardian of the sacred oath"; Ogun stands
in f a c t fo r a transcendental humane but rig id ly
re s to r a tiv e j u s t i c e . 7
These p a r a lle ls between the Hellenic and Yoruba Dionysos-cum-Ogun are
p ecu lia r. They a f f e c t the thematic and s tru c tu ra l symmetry of the
f i r s t and second halves of the play. They also shape, as Kott notes
in his essay on The Bacchae, "a central symbolic reversal of s itu a -
8
tio n , ro le and sign between the p ro ta g o n ists, Dionysus and Pentheus."
Prologue (1-63)
Dionysos' opening speech in Soyinka's adaptation i s , by and
la rg e , a 2 4 -lin e synthesis of Euripides' thought. Dionysos s ta te s
his pique with the c ity of Thebes fo r ta in tin g him with bastardy and
slandering his mother Semele. The purpose of his v i s i t is to call
Thebes to his worship, and to bring "vengeance on a ll who deny my holy
o rig in and call my mother—s l u t . " Two important changes from the
o rig in al te x t occur: (1) in Euripides, Dionysus' b i-s e x u a lity is
emphasized:
148
And here I stand, a god incognito,
disguised as a man. . . . (11. 4)
In Soyinka, he simply says,
. . . I f you are Man or Woman,
I am Dionysos. Accept, (p. 235)
(2) In describing Dionysos' overland odyssey from the East, Soyinka has
Dionysos' seed burgeon not only in Asia Minor, but a lso "flower in h ill
and gorge of dark E thiopia." This is co n siste n t with his theory th a t
the dionysiac impulse is universal in appeal, "the p e a sa n t's natural
evocation o f, and self-immersion in , the mysterious and fo rceful in
Nature . " 9
At th is point Soyinka's stage d ire c tio n s portray the god with
the aid of elemental p a r a lle ls :
Dionysos looks down on the clouds of smoke wrapped
round his f e e t , ris in g from the tomb. He scuffs
the ground with a fo o t, s c a tte rin g ashes and sparks.
(p. 235)
The Yoruba god Ogun, as depicted by Soyinka in Id an re, is the god of
iron whose m etallic cables bear Sango's e l e c t r i c i t y to e arth :
He catches Sango in his th re e-fin g e re d hand
and runs him down to e a rth . . . .
and more s p e c ific a lly l a t e r in the poem:
One speeds his captive b o lts on filam ents
Spun of another forge. . . . ( Idanre, pp. 61 & 64)
I t is in th is sense, th e n ,—Dionysos as god of the forge—th a t Soyinka
has him speak his closing remarks. He p redicts th a t l i f e w ill r is e
lik e the phoenix from the embers' of Semele's tomb, "ten d rels from
p u tre fa c tio n , motion from what was p e t r if i e d ." Such c lu ste rin g and
149
sw elling of green vines on the slag of ruin w ill flush and flood the
long-parched th ro a ts o f men and re le a se t h e i r joy. "This sacrament of
earth is l i f e , " says Dionysos, and he is the s p i r i t of growth.
Three themes have thus been introduced by Soyinka e a rly on:
1 . the scapegoat or god-offended theme;
2 . the disease theme;
3. the sacramental theme.
The l a s t of these provides the audience with i t s f i r s t clue as to the
nature of Soyinka's in te rp re ta tio n of Euripides.
Parados (64-169)
Soyinka re to o ls th e s tru c tu re of Euripides' ode of entry,
which in the orig in al is sung by the Chorus as i t enters the o rch estra.
Kirk remarks th a t th is ode i s , in f a c t, "a hymn, with r itu a l opening,
solemn re p e titio n of the divine name, and rehearsal of the h isto ry and
c u lt of the god and his e f fe c t on his a d o r a n t s . E u r i p i d e s '
Dionysus c a lls the Chorus of Asian Bacchae on to the stage and e x its
as they come dancing in from the rig h t. They are dressed in the
"uniform of the c u lt" : fawn-skins, crowned with ivy, and they carry
t h y r s i , tim b rels, and f lu te s .
Soyinka has Dionysos stand s t i l l , "statu esq u e," when he hears
a litu r g ic a l drone coming from the d ire ctio n of "cru cifix io n slope."
He remains s i l e n t during the f i r s t exchanges between the Herdsman and
the Slave Leader, very much lik e the Tempters in E l i o t 's Murder in the
C athedral. A ctually, Soyinka's use of D ionysos-as-spectator harkens
150
back to the ancient Dionysian th eatres which pre-dated Euripides.
Webster s ta te s th a t a t the A nthesteria and Lanaea f e s t i v a l s , the mask
of the god was a c tu a lly hung on the proscenium columns so th a t the
11
acto rs could play fo r him. The technique is also rem iniscent of Jean
Genet's The Blacks in which a white sp e c ta to r, dressed "in ceremonial
costume," is seated "preferably in the fro n t row of the o rch estra. The
12
actors play fo r him."
The acto rs who play fo r Dionysos are a Herdsman, the Slave
Leader, and the Chorus of Slaves. They pass around a jug of wine and
discuss the coming revels and the choice of a scapegoat (p. 236). The
old man, T ir e s ia s , is to serve as scapegoat and the reference is to
the ancient Greek custom of flogging a young boy on Dionysian holidays.
Soyinka has used the scapegoat theme before, notably in his play The
Strong Breed. In th is play, an it i n e r a n t teach er, Eman, takes upon
himself the ro le of c a r r i e r of the community's sickness a t a New
Year's fe s tiv a l and is destroyed. Here, in The Bacchae, Soyinka,
conscious of the s o c io -re lig io u s strands of the Dionysian myth, fuses
the scapegoat theme with the idea of freedom, not only actual freedom
fo r the oppressed groups w ithin the so c ie ty , but freedom provided by
wine and the Dionysian rev els.
The ta lk o f wine and dreams of freedom continues. The Herdsman
remarks th a t because the Slave Leader lacks "the sly hum ility, the
downcast eye" demanded by King Pentheus, he will always remain a
walled-up slave (th a t i s , one never tru s te d o utside the c ity w a lls).
This is the f i r s t in d icatio n we have of the oppressive nature of
151
Pentheus' ru le . The a i r of Thebes is s t e r i l e , says the Slave Leader,
"Nothing breathes in i t . Nothing—r e a l l y —liv e s" (p. 237). The
Herdsman thinks the Leader has become a b i t tip s y on the new harvest
wine. He mentions th a t th is year the vines seem to have gone mad.
This image of n a tu re 's bounty, with i t s a llu sio n to the an cient and
C hristian mythology concerning honey, is then contrasted with the
"unspeakable r it e s " of the s ta te - c o n tr o lle d M ysteries, namely, the
13
f e a s t of E leusis. Since flogging of the scapegoat is a prominent
p a rt of these r i t e s , Pentheus uses them to deal with reb ellio u s
slav e s. In response to the Leader's supposition th a t T ire s ia s may die
of the flogging, the Herdsman re p lie s :
Someone must cleanse the new y ear of the ro t
of the old or, the world w ill d ie. Have you
known famine? Real famine?
The pent-up, f r u s tr a te d energy of the downtrodden is then verbalized
in the Leader's query:
Leader: Why us? W hy always us?
Hersman: Why not?
Leader: Because the r i t e s bring us nothing!
Let those who p r o f i t bear the burden
of the old year dying.
The Herdsman cautions the Leader to guard his loose tongue, pointing
to the row of cro sses. They p a rt with the Leader intim ating th a t he
knows of the forbidden Bacchic orgies taking place in the mountains
and th a t the sla v e s, too, are w aiting to be delivered by t h e i r
champion, Dionysos.
152
This fram ew ork--nature's largesse/m an's ex p ectatio n —enables
Soyinka to introduce one of his fa v o rite themes, th e domestic image of
the h arvest and i t s consequences fo r man. In th is in sta n c e , the
harvest has been b o u n tifu l, the good harvest fo r which men pray, not
the perverted harvest of Ogun's "day of erro r" depicted in Soyinka's
long poem Idanre. In th a t poem the men of Ire sought to harness the
power of the god fo r t h e i r own p e tty ends. But, the " lu s t-b lin d god"
Ogun destroyed frien d and foe a lik e in a blind rampage of bloody
mayhem. The cost of the devastation was given in human terms through
the image of a reversal o f the normal harvest:
There are f a llin g ears of corn
And rip e melons tumble from the heads
Of noisy women, crying
Lust-blind god, gore-drunk Hunter
Monster d e ity , you destroy your men! ( Idanre, p. 75)
Eldred D. Jones, in speaking of th i s in cid en t observes, "Confusion r e
places order; the songs are turned to w ails; the god drinks blood--
14
the blood of his own men—fo r wine." In Soyinka's Bacchae, on the
other hand, the harvest is viewed not as a d e stru c tiv e force but as a
lib e ra tin g element. Dionysos' im pulse/force w ill not be harnessed by
the "diplom atic a r ts " of men, but w ill be used to reap the h arvest of
oppression represented by Pentheus and the c u lt of E leusis.
In th is connection i t is worth noting th a t Soyinka has elected
to r e ta in Euripides' bee imagery, though with somewhat less emphasis:
Herdsman: Something seems to have got under
the so il and was feeding [the vines]
n ectar, (p. 237)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- .15.3-
The place of honey in Greek myths, p a r tic u la r ly in those of Dionysus,
15
is well known. Here, Soyinka has used the reference to underscore
once again the good harvest and e a r t h 's f e r t i l i t y .
Following the departure of the Herdsman, Soyinka in s e r ts a
tableau of s o rts "led by a solemn fig u re who is Master of Revels" for
the F estival of E leu sis. The procession c o n sists of black-robed
p r ie s t s , vestal v irg in s in w hite, an Old Man scapegoat, flo g g e rs, and
"a stra g g le of crowd." The tableau rep resen ts the enactment of the
s ta te -sa n c tio n e d r i t u a l . There is nothing lik e th is in Euripides'
te x t.
The flogging of the Old Man, which occurs mid-way in the
procession, is a visual re p ris e o f the scapegoat theme re fe rre d to
e a r l i e r by the Slave Leader and Herdsman. In Euripides' play the
scapegoat theme is merely implied a t th is point by the mythology
surrounding Dionysus; l a t e r , of course, Pentheus is made the scapegoat.
But Soyinka employs the flogging scene to fu rth e r emphasize the point
he made in his Introduction about freedom: the Festival of Eleusis is
being used by the p r ie s ts and upper classes to subdue the masses:
In challenging the s t a t e Mysteries [Dionysos] became
champion of the masses ag ain st monopolistic repressions
of the "Olympian" preisthood, m ercantile princes and
o th er n o b ility . The myths which grew up around him,
the new elaborations on his tra d itio n a l o rig in s should
th e re fo re be read as statements of in te n t. C ertainly
the threatened classes did not f a il to see them as such.
( In tro d u c tio n , p. v i i i ) .
The irony here is th a t the Old Man turns out to be T iresias, who is not
a slave: at a l l , but a member of the p riv ile g e d c la sse s. This
154
contradictory element matches the contrad icto ry nature of the Yoruba
god Ogun, i f not of Dionysos himself.
During the procession which follow s, Dionysos remains un
observed by the p a rtic ip a n ts though they pass through and around him.
The procession h a lts a t the palace and a small ceremony of "cleansing"
is performed on the palace gate. The stage d ire c tio n s read:
The p r ie s ts take branches from a bundle borne
by the two leading g i r l s , symbolically scour
the gates with them, then p ile the used twigs
on the bunch already borne by the Old Man. He
is sprinkled and flogged as before, (p. 238)
The ceremony of "cleansing" is a c tu a lly a reversal of the r itu a l bath
taken by the c u lt p rie s te s s before the s a c r i f i c i a l ceremony.
E uripides' Bacchantes begin the sacred r i t e s with "reverent p u r if ic a
tions" (lin e 77—K irk's t r a n s l a t i o n ) . Here in Soyinka's version, the
ceremony is symbolic only and is performed on an inanimate o b je c t—the
palace gates—s ig n ify in g , in the la rg e r context of the play, th a t the
c u lt o f Eleusis is dead. The slaves who are watching a ll th is from
the threshing hut suddenly become ag ita te d when they see the Old Man
w ilt and f in a lly collapse under the lash. At th is moment the in can ta
tio n s of the p r ie s ts and the singing of the lash reach t h e i r feverish
p itch . A brig h t fla sh suddenly reveals a smiling Dionysos standing on
the tomb of Semele. All action ceases and the music of Dionysos is
heard in the background.
What follows is a visual tra n s la tio n of Euripides' strophe 1,
lin e s 72-87, wherein Dionysos merges his consciousness and p erso n ality
with the other members of the band of worshippers in the mountains.
155
Soyinka combines th is merging idea with the harvest theme by having
Dionysos command: "Sing Death of the Old Year, and—welcome the new—
god." A prolonged, confused s ile n c e follows in which the dramatis
personae hold back t h e i r vocal acknowledgment of the god. Only the
Slave Leader seems bent on "giving immediate vocal acknowledgment to
the god," but he is fo rc e fu lly re stra in e d . The threshing-hut slaves
remind him of the p en alties fo r apostasy:
Slave: You'll get us k ille d . We!ll be wiped
out to a man.
Another: Remember the h e lo ts. Don't be rash.
At th is point Dionysos comes down from the tomb of Semele and mingles
with the procession. The p r ie s ts melt away "in te rro r" as Dionysos
turns towards the vestal v irg in s.
In t h i s , as in many oth er l i b e r t i e s he takes with the original
t e x t , Soyinka p refers to a c t out the im plications of Dionysiac worship
r a th e r than provide normative responses to events. Euripides has the
Chorus chant the r itu a l call fo r attendance on Dionysus and avoidance
of unhallowed speech (Euripides, 6 8 f f ) . Soyinka gives the r itu a l call
to Dionysos: "Welcome the new god, jo y fu lly . Sing death of the old
year passing" (p. 239). Dionysos' r itu a l ca ll in Soyinka's play is met
by the v estal v irg in s with fearfu l h e s ita tio n ; they give only a li s t l e s s
ren d itio n of the welcome formula. Dionysos encourages them y e t a th ird
time:"And now tr y again. Together, with jo y ." What follows emphasizes
the mesmeric e f fe c t Dionysos has on his follow ers. One of the vestal
v irg in s garlands Dionysos with flowers and then f a in ts in his arms. He
156
scoops her up and c a rrie s her towards the p r ie s ts of Eleusis, who f le e
in the d ire c tio n from which they made t h e i r en try . Their masters gone,
the floggers back o ff. The Slave Leader f in a lly breaks away from the
th resh ers and, hands cupped to his mouth,* "yodels" the cry of ecstasy
and invocation used in the c u lt of Dionysos:
Leader: Evohe-e-e-e! Evohe-e-e-e! (E uripides, 141 and 151)
S train s of the music of Dionysos interm ingle with the echoes of the
Leader's cry, causing a "mixture of excitement and unease" among the
a tte n tiv e l i s t e n e r s , Soyinka's stage d ire c tio n s read:
The vestal in th e arms of Dionysos s t i r s ,
responding. She lowers h e rs e lf to the ground
slowly, moves in to a dance to the music. As
the dance takes her close to the Slave Leader
he moves away with her; the dance soon embrace
a ll the v e s ta ls and slav e s, (pp. 239-240)
At th is ju n ctu re in E uripides' te x t the Chorus is repeating i t s p ra ise
hymn to Bromios (E uripides, 152, f f . ) . A fter changing t h e i r hymn
Euripides' chorus remains grouped in two sem i-circles about the
o rc h e stra . T ire sia s makes his entrance and we have the beginning
of the F ir s t Episode (Tines 170-369). Soyinka delays the F irs t
Episode, in se rtin g instead a vestal dance. Dionysos, sm iling, s lip s
o ff to Cithaeron, taking his enchantment with him. This is sig n alled
by the abrupt cessation of the music and the growing panic among the
newly converted v e sta ls and slav e s. The v e s ta ls rush out in p u rsu it
of Dionysos but the slaves hold back. The Slave Leader chides his
fellow slaves fo r t h e i r hesitancy in following Dionysos. He urges
them on, saying they can now overthrow t h e i r masters, whom he lab els
157
"dragon spawn," a c le a r reference to the men who grew from the dragon's
teeth sc a tte re d by Cadmus.
Euripides does not use th is lay er of myth u n til l a t e r in the
play when Pentheus has imprisoned Dionysos. His Chorus w ill say of
Pentheus, "He reveals his Khtonic race, and his descent from the
dragon, does Pentheus, whom Echion the Khtonic one engendered as a
w ild-faced monster, not a human being. . . ." (538 f f . , K irk's t r a n s l a
tio n ) . Soyinka's use of the dragon image here is not a superfluous
mythological embellishment. Rather i t is a su b tle reference to the
earth-born ancestry of Pentheus in Thebes as opposed to Dionysos' b irth
from f i r e and Zeus, a s tru c tu re of c o n tra st which Soyinka plays with
throughout the drama. Dionysos stands fo r the c re a tiv e s p i r i t in the
a f f a i r s of men. His archetypical adversary is always a snake, or a
dragon. Thus, the reference to Pentheus' "subterranean" o rig in . I t
is Pentheus, who, by his ir o n - f is te d ru le , has made the l o t of the
slaves in to le ra b le . They h e s ita te to make themselves conspicuous by
declaring for Dionysos. R eluctantly, they agree to go as f a r as the
c ity gates to see how the fre e c itiz e n s of Thebes receive th is
stra n g e r. The stage is l e f t to the Old Man and his flo g g e rs.
The departure of the slave contingent provides Soyinka with
the opportunity to present a comic in te rlu d e . The flogged man turns
out to be T ire s ia s , but not the T eiresias Of E uripides' play. Here he
is a kind of curmudgeon-cum-con-artist who scolds his tormentors fo r
not knowing the d ifferen ce between ritu a l and r e a l i t y (p. 241). In
oth er words, the scapegoat whipping is supposed to be staged lik e
158
professional w re stlin g , lo ts of pretended violence but no real in ju ry .
"Symbolic flo g g in g ," T ire sia s complains, " th a t is what I keep try in g to
drum in to your th ick heads." The 3rd. Man p ro te sts th a t i t was the
frenzy of the in cantation which made them fo rg e t the symbolism. (This
l a s t remark prepares us fo r Agave's frenzy l a t e r on when she does not
r e a liz e she has k ille d her own son.) The language of th is in te rlu d e
is very slangy, s tre e t-w is e , and irr e v e r e n t. T ire sia s d eliv ers some
good o n e -lin e rs and his floggers re jo in in kind. T ire sia s urges his
men to follow Dionysos and the v e sta ls in to the mountains where, he
says, the " fe a s t has s h if te d ." I t is obvious th a t they a ll regard
the Dionysian business as the b est game in town, no more.
The floggers e x is t taking T ir e s ia s ' s t a f f with them. Dionysos
re -e n te rs and, fo r a while, the jocose banter continues. The dialogue
grows more se rio u s , however, as T ire s ia s cautions Dionysos to handle
Pentheus gently " i f only fo r his g ra n d fa th e r's (Kadmos1) sake." He
also points out th a t the Festival of Eleusis is a perversion of the
n a tu re -p ro p itia tio n p rin c ip le which req u ires both challenge and
s a c r if ic e . T ir e s ia s , the a r i s t o c r a t , sees th is and so submits to
public penance. Dionysos is not unimpressed with T ir e s ia s ' explana
tio n of his ro le as p r ie s t and prophet, but has some reserv atio n s
about the flogging charade. He asks T ire s ia s to dance fo r him, a
request T ire sia s likens to asking an elephant to f ly . However,
T ire sia s becomes entranced with the music of Dionysos w elling up in
the background and begins to dance. Dionysos watches for a w hile,
then d r i f t s off, ending th e comic in te rlu d e .
159
In r e la tio n to the main parts of Euripides' p lo t th is second
of Soyinka's im provisations serves to focus our a tte n tio n on the
Theban body p o l i t i c and the malady of Pentheus' regime. Thebes is
shown here as mired in the ro t of i t s in e ffe c tiv e ceremonies and hollow
communal r i t u a l s . " F ilth , p o llu tio n , c r u e l t ie s , se c re t abominations,"
T ire sia s reminds us, have destroyed the tra d itio n a l social values.
But th e issue of the c i t y 's cleansing and rejuvenation is held in
suspension while Soyinka explores the discordant purposes of the
various c h a ra c te rs. Thus, the c h ie f function of these im provisations,
with t h e i r dumb-shows, jo k es, and topical a llu s io n s , is to show the
underlying theme of the whole.
F i r s t Episode (170-369)
Soyinka's emphasis here is ra th e r d iffe re n t from E u rip id e s'.
He re ta in s the blindness theme but tra n s fe rs i t from T ire sia s to
Pentheus. T ra d itio n a lly , of course, T ire sia s is p h ysically b lind.
Euripides has Cadmus say, "Since, T ir e s ia s , you do not see th is
day!ight here/ I shall become your in t e r p r e t e r o f events by words:
. . . ." (210, K irk's tr a n s la tio n ) . "Seeing the d a y lig h t," Kirk
w rites in his note to th is lin e , is standard tra g ic language fo r
(1) being a liv e or (2) being able to see. Soyinka's T ire sia s is
"alive" to the new c u lt, but n e ith e r he nor Kadmos, a t th i s p o in t,
tr u ly understands ("sees") what Dionysos has to o ffe r. T ire sia s
speaks of his "new found ecstasy" and worries about "the vengenance
of a sp ite d god." Kadmos f r e t s about and then fe e ls relie v ed of his
"innermost doubts," y e t wears a Bacchic costume under his outer
160J
garments. The irony in t h e i r understanding of Dionysos is t h is : in
order to believe in a god one must see him, which T ire sia s cannot.
However, one can only believe in gods one cannot see. Kadmos can see
but has never a c tu a lly s e t eyes on Dionysos, his own grandson. This
paradox accounts fo r Soyinka's f lip p a n t treatm ent of both men's
a t t i t u d e toward the god and his c u lt--a n a t t i t u d e a t once believing yet
jaundiced by old age and experience. They know Dionysos' triumph is
in e v ita b le , and so they tr y to accept him w ithin t h e i r lig h ts .
Euripides, on the o th er hand, makes of T ire sia s a clever so p h ist, a
pseudo philosopher in te re ste d mainly in "the theological and philo-
16
logical s t e r i l i z a t i o n of the god." The d ifferen ce between these two
treatm ents of ch aracter becomes c le a re r in T ir e s ia s ' le c tu re to
Pentheus (E uripides, 274-318).
Soyinka's other emphasis s h i f t is away from E uripides' idea
of sophos--meaning wise, experienced, i n te llig e n t in a so p h istic a te d
way, or clev er. In E uripides' play the term is of g reat sig n ific a n c e ;
i t is used, as Kirk s t a t e s , "to oppose preten tio u s in te lle c tu a l ism of
Pentheus to the sim pler wisdom of obeying th e gods and following
Nature. " * ' 7 T ir e s ia s , as prophet and in te r p r e te r of omens, should be
sophos p erso n ifie d , but, in Euripides, he turns out to possess merely
"the narrow professional sophia ( i . e . , s k i l l , e x p e rtise ) of the sage
18
and s e e r." N evertheless, he is g re a tly admired by his frien d
Cadmus:
Dearest f r ie n d - -f o r I lis te n e d and heard your
voice, a wise voice from a wise man, as I was
in the house: . . . (179, Kirk tra n s la tio n )
1 6 1
This is the "wisdom" of rip e old age and long experience, a v irtu e
which an a r r i v i s t e lik e Cadmus would obviously app reciate.
Soyinka in te rp r e ts sophos as "balance and pro p o rtio n ," and
in te rp re ta tio n which is clo ser to the ideal Greek meaning expressed
in th e choruses of E uripides' play. Arrowsmith w rites th a t sophia
in th is sense "implies a firm awareness of one's own nature and
th erefo re of one's place in the scheme of th in g s. In other words, i t
presupposes self-knowledge, an acceptance of those n e c e s sitie s th a t
19
compose the lim its of human f a t e ." In the eyes of Soyinka's
T ir e s ia s , Pentheus f o r f e i t s any claim to th is kind of sophia because
he c a llo u sly refuses to accept the n ecessity th a t Dionysos in carn ates:
T ire s ia s: . . .O h Kadmos, wisdom is what we need
in a king a t th is moment, a sense of
balance and proportion, (p. 245)
The a rriv a l from foreign lands of the Dionysiac l i f e has blasted the
s ta l e equilibrium of the Pentheus-controlled s t a t e which is based on
law and order and reason. But the coming of the loving god is the
negation of a l l order, an offense to reason and to the king. I t i s ,
in e f f e c t, s ta tu to ry blasphemy. In embracing Dionysos, Soyinka's
T ir e s ia s —and Kadmos to a le s s e r ex ten t--reco g n izes he is both beast
and god, both savage and c iv iliz e d . This is the energizing th e sis
of the play which Thomas G. Rosenmeyer encapsulates in the following
statem ent:
I t is as an animal, as a beast close to the so il
and fre e of the r e s t r i c t io n s of c u ltu re and c ity
l i f e , th a t man must know Dionysus. But th a t means
th a t in embracing Dionysus man surrenders th a t
oth er h a lf o f him self, the spark of .the g en tle and
162
c e le s tia l nature which, the philosophers
hope, c o n s titu te s the salvageable p a rt of
man's equipment. 2 0
Soyinka's T iresia s recognizes the th e sis but is tw itte d by Kadmos for
not having the physical a b i l i t y to put i t in p ra c tic e . The double
nature o f man, the p o litic a l and the animal, is not in Soyinka's
adaptation the engrossing puzzle Euripides presen ts. Rather i t is
p a rt of N ature's t o t a l i t y , the universal need of man to match him self
a g ain st Nature: "to s w ill, gorge and copulate on a scale as huge as
21
N ature's on her monstrous cycle of reg en eratio n ."
Interlude (Soyinka's t e x t , pp. 245-251)
Soyinka enunciates the bloodless metaphysics of man's double
nature by in se rtin g here Euripides' Parados (64-169), which should
rig h tly appear before the f i r s t episode. The thematic emphasis in the
exchanges between the Slave Leader, the Chorus, and the Bacchantes is
on sacramental union with the god through observing the f e r t i l i t y
r i t e s of "the Earth-Mother" ("Cybele" in E uripides). These darkest
of r i t u a l s are o r g ia s tic by nature and, in the symbols of Dionysian
r i t e , the s tru c tu ra l reversal o f sacral in c e s t. " I t is not god the
fa th e r who is torn to shreads," w rites Kott, "but god the son;
22
'g e n e sis ' a n n ih ila te d , moved back to i t s o r ig in s ." Such a
"symbolic retu rn to Chaos," notes E liade, " is indispensable to any
23
new c re a tio n ." And a "new order" o f th in g s, a new f e r t i l i t y in the
so il of Thebes, is what Soyinka's Slave Leader s tre s se s most in his
exchanges with the Bacchante and the Chorus. His point is not l o s t on
his h earers. The f i r s t Bacchante re fe rs to the Slave Leader as
163
"honey voiced / Spokesman of my god?—a fu rth e r reference to the
f e r t i l i t y of bees—and asks him to "Tell us ta le s of what you know, /
Sing to me again of Dionysos" (p. 248).
The following scene loosely paraphrases E uripides' second
strophe (105-119). I t continues the d escrip tio n of Dionysos' worship
begun in the f i r s t strophe and urges a ll Thebes to jo in in. Soyinka
o rc h e stra te s the scene very c a re fu lly in a 24 -lin e stage d ire c tio n .
He wants the lin es chanted, not sung, to musical accompaniment and
suggests the theme-song of Zorba the Greek "with i t s strange mixture
of n o s ta lg ia , violence and death." The emotional color and temperature
of the scene he wants to resemble "a European pop scene," with the
Slave Leader c o n tro llin g the Bacchic crescendo of ecstasy in a s ty le
based "on the l i l t and energy of the black hot gospellers who them
selves are often f i r s t to become physically possessed" (p. 248). The
e f fe c t of a ll t h i s , he says, should resemble "a surrogate orgasmic
climax." Handfuls of the Slave Leader's clothes are ultim ately torn
o ff as he is "completely submerged under screaming, 'possessed' lungs
and bodies." What Soyinka wants, in other words, is nothing le ss than
the visual enactment of Bacchic frenzy before a modern Western audience
Presumably, such an audience has d i f f i c u l t y r e la tin g to the re p o rto ria l
s ty le of the c la s s ic Greek chorus. The lin e s th a t accompany th is
"energized s p ir itu a l rapture" are noteworthy in th a t they combine
echoes of Greek, C hristian and African themes in an attem pt to under
score the u n iv e rsa lity of the Bacchic experience. Some lin e s are
d ire c t tra n s la tio n s of Euripides:
164
Then l i s t e n Thebes, nurse of Semele,
Crown your h a ir with ivy
Turn your fin g ers green with bryony
Redden your w alls with b errie s
Decked with boughs of oak and f i r
Come dance the dance of god.
(Soyinka, p. 249; Euripides, 105-111)
Other lin e s are evocations of Ogun in Soyinka's poem Id an re:
His h a ir a bush of fo x fires in the wind
A streak of lig h tn in g his thyrsus
. . . He makes an anvil of the mountain-peaks
Hammers fo rth a thunderous w i l l , . , .
. . . h i s mesh of elements
Reconciles a warring universe.
(Compare Id an re, p. 71)
S t i l l oth er lin e s re c a ll the Christus of medieval hymn:
Seek him in your b reasts with love, w ithin
Your hidden veins, in the q u iet murmur of your blood
Seek him in the marrow, . . . he is fount
Of l i f e . (p. 251)
Thus, two themes are repeated in these chants: the godhead is every
where, and god is w ithin every man. A t h i r d , f e r t i l i t y , is enunciated
by the Slave Leader j u s t before he is engulfed by the women:
There is power in his th y rsu s, feel!
I t pulses. Feel! I t quivers and races with sap.
The scene ends with a long scream from a Bacchante which "saps the
l a s t r e s t r a i n t of the women." They rush the Slave Leader in t h e i r
search fo r Bromius, smothering him "under a melee of lim bs,"
T ire sia s and Kadmos reemerge f u rtiv e ly from the s id e lin e s ,
a f t e r watching in fascin a tio n the Bacchanite frenzy. At one point in
t h e i r exchanges, Kadmos expresses his re g re t a t leaving the throne to
Pentheus and muses about staging a coup d 'e t a t now th a t "th is new
165
surge of l i f e " is coursing through his veins (p. 254). What follows
is to be done B ritish "music-hall s ty l e ." Kadmos c a n 't find his
thyrsus. He "rummages in sid e his pouch and brings out a blunt-ended
telescoped o b ject which he proceeds to pull out in to a th y rsu s." His
attem pt to use the o bject as a walking s tic k ends in two p r a t f a l l s and
attendant p h a llic quips and gaffaws. E uripides' lin e about going up to
the mountains in Kadmos' c h a rio t to p a r tic ip a te in the Dionysian r it e s
is repeated by Soyinka almost verbatim (191). But, instead of King
Pentheus coming on-stage a t th is p o in t, Soyinka has T ire sia s teach
Kadmos the steps of the Dionysian dance. Soyinka re ta in s the essence
of Euripides' li n e s —d iv in ity should not be ignored even i f old men
have to attend wild dances. However, the a lte rn a tin g sin g le-v erse
utterances which Euripides uses to convey excitement are here tra n s
muted in to dance step s:
T ire s ia s: W e w ill dance a ll the way to the h i l l s ,
One--Two—Back, One--Two--Back. (p. 255)
The dance steps provide the scene with a c e rta in nervous a g ita tio n
before the two old men confront th e i r nemesis, Pentheus. The sequence
is not unlike Nikos' i n i t i a t i o n to Zorba's dancing in Kazantzakis'
g reat novel. Soyinka w ill use the device again in the fourth episode
j u s t before Pentheus leaves Thebes to confront his mother on Mount
Cithairon (p. 294; Euripides, 973 f f . ) .
Enter Pentheus
Soyinka changes the ch aracter o f E uripides' Pentheus somewhat,
describing him in the stage d ire c tio n s as " s t r a i g h t , m i l i t a r i s t i c in
bearing and speech" (p. 256). As in Euripides, Pentheus' opening
speech s tre s s e s "order and sanity" in the body p o l i t i c which, he says,
has succumbed to chaos. ' He harps on the same theme as Euripides'
Pentheus, namely, the drunkenness and immorality of the Dionysiac
c u l t , but these concerns rank second to his concern fo r re sto rin g
order:
Pentheus: I leave the country, I'm away only a moment
Campaigning to secure our national f ro n tie r s .
And what happens? Behind me chaos! The c ity in uproar.
Let everyone / Know I'v e returned to re-impose
order. Order! (p. 256)
Soyinka's Pentheus e x h ib its the same special and personal preoccupation
with sex as his Euripidean counterpart. F i r s t , he inveighs against
the lewd women Bacchantes:
All th a t concerns them is / Getting serviced.
Then, he lab els Dionysos a "so rc e re r," "h y p n o tist," and "faker." The
Dionysian abberations he describes as "the r o t and creeping / Poison
in the body of s t a t e . " In his pique a t Dionysos he is not above a b i t
o f F a lsta ffia n b illin g s g a te :
The Charlatan spends his days and nights only
In the company of our women. Calls i t i n i t i a t i o n .
I ' l l i n i t i a t e his b a lls from his thighs once
W e have him sa fe ly bound, (p. 257)
Like Euripides, Soyinka is fond o f brandishing his mythological
e ru d itio n , expanding a tw o-line explanation of Semele's punishment
(245 f . ) in to nine lin e s of Greek inythology. Pentheus' principal
167
concern here is th a t his family has not learned from i t s h is to ry .
Even his s i s t e r s and his mother, he says, are up in the mountains
p a r tic ip a tin g a t the " o b sc e n itie s." This is not in Euripides a t a ll.
In f a c t, E ruipides' Pentheus has to be reminded by the Chorus th a t he
has a special reason fo r defending the family honor:
Chorus: Impiety! Foreigner, do you not reverence the gods
and Cadmus, who sowed the earth-born crop?
You are Echion's c h ild —do you want to shame his family?
(263 f f . , K irk's tr a n s la tio n )
At the end of his long tira d e Soyinka's Pentheus notices T ire sia s and
Kadmos for the f i r s t time. He accuses T ire sia s of encouraging the new
r e lig io n fo r power and p r o f i t , but the emphasis here is on the
d e le te rio u s e f f e c t T ir e s ia s ' approval of Dionysos w ill have on s ta t e
p o lic ie s r a th e r than th e i r e f fe c t on re lig io u s corruption:
Pentheus: . . . A new god!
Soon w e 'll have s t a t e p o lic ie s revealed
In brimming cups of wine—by heaven!— (p. 258)
Soyinka gives Kadmos six Tines of dialogue here (in te rp o la te d from
Euripides' 330-336) in which he exhorts Pentheus not to blaspheme and
disgrace his house. T ir e s ia s ' long defense of Dionysos follow s.
B asically , Soyinka s tic k s to Euripides' version, th a t i s , r a tio n a li z a
tio n of Dionysos' c u lt and a defense of his b ir th . However, Soyinka
expands an obscure lin e in the o rig in al to bring in the god-within-
theme and the idea of balance. Compare:
E u rip id es:
And when we pour lib a tio n s
to the gods, we pour the god of wine himself
th a t through his in te rc e ssio n man may win
the favor of heaven. (284 ff.)
168
Soyi nka:
Dionysos comes a liv e in us.
W e soar, we f ly , we shed the heavy clods of earth
That weigh down the e th e ria l man
To th a t f i r s t p rin c ip le [Demeter]. Balance is the key. (p. 260)
Soyinka then synthesizes E uripides' long explanation of the etymo-
ogical confusion surrounding the theory of Dionysos being sewn, in
the thigh of Zeus in favor o f a p h a llic joke:
I t 's not fo r me to say i f Zeus had his scrotum
Sown to one side of th is thighs or
In-between 1ike--presum ably--yours. (p. 259)
The r e s t o f the exchange s tic k s close to Euripides (299-340) u n til
his te x t c a lls fo r Pentheus to r e t i r e to the palace. Soyinka keeps
Pentheus on-stage and in s e r ts an in te rlu d e o f some 78 lin e s in which
Pentheus in te ra c ts with a Chorus of Slaves. Pentheus slaps an Old
Slave fo r questioning the d estru ctio n of Dionysos' hut (p. 263). This
a c t gives Soyinka a chance to in je c t some African lo re about the
sacredness of old age:
Various: To h i t an old servant
With f r o s t on his head
Such a one as has stood
At the gateway of hiysteries
and to echo Fanon's sentiments about the confrontation of "c iv iliz e d "
and "prim itive" men:
Various: Age is holy
To h i t an old man
Or demolish the roof of a sage?
Yet we are the barbarians
And Greece the boast of c i v i l i z a t i o n . 2 5
W e are slaves and have no so u ls, (p. 264)
The Leader suddenly bows his head and intones the litu rg y of
Dionysos. Pentheus is shocked. He r e a liz e s the im plications of the
169
god-within and union-w ith-m other-earth themes; t h e i r implementation
through "grape-pressing" and grain-winnowing" w ill end the "separation
between man and man," the foundation upon which his regime stands. His
face " re g is te rs horror and d is b e lie f ." But, the Slave Leader reminds
him th is is a sacramental litu rg y :
I am th e autumn sacrament, . . .
M y fle s h , my death, my r e - b ir th is the song
That r is e s from men's l i p s , they know not how.
. . . I am Dionysos, (p. 265)
The Leader pauses an in s ta n t and then, pow erfully, exclaims, "Lead us
Bromius!" The slaves respond, "Lead u s--!" Pentheus draws his sword
and commands the Chorus of Slaves to "Shut up!" Dead s ile n c e follows
and Pentheus th re a te n s: " I ' l l cut the tongue of the next man th a t
u tte rs the name Bromius. Or Dionysos!"
Soyinka's scene here is a very wide in te rp o la tio n of Euripides'
choral song (370-431). While Soyinka's Leader and Slaves do echo the
Greek Chorus' concern fo r the v io la tio n of h o lin e ss —exemplified by
Pentheus' scorn and hatred of D ionysos--nevertheless, they completely
ignore the cleverness-versus-wisdom aspect of E uripides' choral song.
Instead, Soyinka chooses to h ig h lig h t the god-within and union-with-
m other-earth themes. He also rein fo rces the d isease-in-the-body
p o l i t i c theme by tying i t to th e sacramental nature of th e Dionysiac
r i t e s .
12Q
Second Episode (434-518)
What in te r e s ts Soyinka in th is superb encounter between
Pentheus and Dionysos is the dram atization of the sin of h u b ris, which
is why he follows Euripides q u ite c lo se ly . In shearing o ff Dionysos'
h a ir , Pentheus has v io lated a sacred taboo. The conditions fo r
dedicating Dionysos' shorn locks to a god have not y e t been met, th a t
i s , Thebes is not converted to the new c u lt because of Pentheus' blind
obstinacy. Dionysos, as Kirk remarks in his note to th is scene, is
growing his h air "for the god" because he is_ the god. Within the
corpus of Ifa wisdom to which Soyinka subscribes, Pentheus' offense is
th e re fo re a cosmic a f fr o n t. "Such acts of h u b ris," he says in his
essay, "The Fourth Stage," "compel the cosmos to delve deeper in to i t s
essence to meet the human ch allen g e." Whether he understands i t or
not, Pentheus is already coming under the god's s p e ll; his h u b ris tic
a c t is a c tu a lly an invocation of the p rin c ip le o f cosmic adjustm ent, a
theme which Soyinka begins to mine independently of Euripides from
th is point on in the drama.
Second Stasimon (519-575)
Soyinka follows the design of his e a r l i e r in te rp o la tio n of
Euripides' choral ode: he reduces the p arts of the ode (strophe 1,
a n tistro p h e 1, and epode) to a dialogue between the Bacchante and
various Slaves. They are dejected a t the loss of t h e i r le a d e r, and
speak of t h e i r despair and t h e i r anger a t Pentheus. Soyinka departs
from the g i s t of E uripides' lin es by having one Old Slave d isse n t and
171
ca ll Dionysos a fake, "A t r i c k s t e r . Windbag. A commonplace /
I ll u s i o n i s t " (p. 272). He omits e n tir e ly E uripides' lin e s 557-575 in
which the Greek Chorus invokes the god and names various places where
he might be, ending with a prediction of his passage through the land
of E uripides' Macedonian host. Instead , Soyinka s u b s titu te s wild
Bacchante exchanges and bucholic p ra ise chants c a llin g fo r Bromius
(pp. 272-275). Loud rumbles of thunder are in je c te d twice as back
ground noises to the chants, thus increasing the decible level of the
frenzied goings-on. The mood o f the scene smacks of the Black
r e v i v a l is t "holiness shout" re fe rre d to e a r l i e r .
1st Bacchante: Earth—
Chorus: —Thrust!
1st Bacchante: Earth—
Chorus: —Burst!
1st Bacchante: Earth—
Chorus: —TAKE!
1st Bacchante: Earth—
Chorus: —Breathe! Live! Blow upon the walls of
ddrknGSS
Melt marble, p i l l a r s , take! Take! TAKE!
1st Bacchante: Adore him! (p. 275)
The stage d ire c tio n s here read: "Darkness, thunder, flames. Roar of
collapsing masonry. From among i t a l l , the music of Dionysos."
Suddenly, the voice of Dionysos comes from w ithin the palace, but
instead of using the customary exclamation fo r invocation of the gods,
"15," Soyinka simply has the god say, "Dionysos." He does not emerge
_____________________________________________________ 172
from the palace as in Euripides, but is revealed as he was f i r s t seen
standing on the charred ruin of the grave of Semele, the flames
lapping his f e e t.
Though Soyinka has obviously deployed modern scenic resources
fo r sp ectacu lar e f f e c t s , his technique is not used friv o lo u sly . He
clev erly manipulates the anthropology of re lig io u s sig n s—in th is case,
th u n d er--to re in fo rc e the c u ltu ra l asso ciatio n of Dionysos with the
27
Yoruba God of thunder, Ogun.
Third Episode (576-861)
Two important changes from Euripides' te x t take; place here.
E uripides' Dionysus recounts th a t Pentheus a c tu a lly t r i e d to rope and
t i e a real bull which he took to be Dionysus. Soyinka makes the bull
a figment of Pentheus' sick mind:
Dionysos: . . . I made the sick desires
Of his mind his goal, . . .
He fed on vapours of his own malignant
Hate, pursued and roped mirages in the s ta b l e — (p. 276)
Both authors make Pentheus "imagine" the palace is in flames and have
him tr y to put i t out (E uripides, 625). But, in Soyinka's version,
Pentheus, fearing th a t Dionysos might escape, rushes back in to the
sta b le to tr y and slay the imaginary b u ll. He finds only "bright
gleaming a i r where Dionysos/Had been." (At the end of th is episode,
Soyinka's Pentheus w ill t e l l Dionysos he now re a liz e s these visions
were "cheap conjurer t r i c k s ," p. 284.) Both playwrights have Pentheus
hum iliated because he "presumed to wage a war with god" (636), but
Soyinka adds th a t perhaps Pentheus has learned from his experience
173
with a god th a t "The s e c re t of l i f e is/B alance, tolerance" (p. 277).
(Compare Euripides: "Wise men know c o n s tra in t: our passions are
controlled" 642.)
Pentheus en ters in a s ta t e of confusion. Soyinka s tic k s close
to Euripides' version here. Dionysos says Pentheus has "learned
nothing" and is "in cu ra b le ." Pentheus' attem pts to take fu rth e r
action a g a in st Dionysos are delayed by the appearance of a Herdsman
from K ithairon. Aside from h is occasionally slangy rendering of the
o r ig in a l, Soyinka's tra n s la tio n of lin e s 660-786 is f a i r l y orthodox.
The Herdsman describes the m iracles performed by the maddened women of
Thebes and expresses his conversion to the god. The women, he says,
can make wine and milk spring from the earth and they nurse wild
b easts; but, when d istu rb ed , they can te a r a p a rt liv e bulls and defeat
an army of armed men. Soyinka changes E uripides' "wild frenzy" to
"rhythm" in order to f i t his o f t- s ta te d theme of "balance."
Herdsman: The hour fo r t h e i r r itu a l soon approached.
Their ivy-covered staves were beating earth in rhythm—
I t gets in your blood, th a t rhythm, i t re a lly does--
(p. 280)
The change is important in terms of what Soyinka does with the two
28
Dionysian apocalypses presented sim ultaneously by Euripides. The
f i r s t of these is described as a return to the lo s t p arad ise, which
one of Soyinka's Bacchante w ill l a t e r c a ll "the emerald meadow"
(Euripides: "the green joy of the wide f i e l d s ," 867). This is the
fabled land of milk and honey where wine flows from the e a rth , and
a ll are innocent and naked:
i m
Herdsman: Heavy o f b reast those were, newly d e liv e re d ,
Left t h e i r own babes a t home--you know, the b reast
Can get painful with m ilk--but to suckle a wild cub!
. . . From weaving strands of ivy,
Oak-leaves and flowering bryony to dress t h e i r h a ir ,
One turned to twining leaves around a branch. . . .
(p. 279)
The second Dionysian apocalypse, however, is t e r r i f y i n g . These same
women, who can make wine and milk spring from the e arth and nurse wild
b easts, can a lso , when d istu rb ed , te a r a p a rt wild b u lls:
. . . g i r l i s h limbs
Tore them a p a rt, flayed them liv in g . . . . (p. 281)
and d efeat an army of armed men with t h e i r "ivy-covered sta v e s." These
"staves" are not the th y rsi Euripides had in mind (724), with pine cone
on top, and yielded by the Bacchantes in the r it u a l dance. Soyinka is
very careful to call them "wands" or "staves" when placed in the hands
of women, and fo r very good reason. In the Mysteries of Ogun, which
he believes p a ra lle l Dionysianism, men only can bear the opa Ogun.
This is a long willowy pole resembling the Greek thyrsus but "topped
by a frond-bound lump of oar which s tr a in s the pole in w ilful curves
29
and keeps i t v ib ra n t." Like the Greek Thyrsus, i t is a symbol of
f e r t i l i t y and sex, but i t also symbolizes the labors of Ogun. Since
i t can only be ca rrie d by men, women p a rtic ip a tin g in the Mysteries
carry palm fronds instead . Soyinka describes Ogun's fe s tiv a l pro
cession thus:
The bearers of the opa Ogun . . . are compelled to move about
among the re v e lle rs as the e f f o r t to keep the ore-head from
weighting over keeps them p erp etu ally on the move. Through
town and v illa g e , up the mountain to the grove of Ogun,
th is dance of the s tra in in g phallus-head pocks the a i r
above men and women r e v e lle rs who are decked in palm fronds
and bear palm branches in t h e i r hands.30
175
This tra n s la tio n a l tra d e -o f f then— "wand/stave" fo r th y rsu s— is
sym bolically s ig n if ic a n t. The "ivy-covered staves" c a rrie d by
Soyinka's Bacchante become a double-layered symbol, not only of
Dionysianism, but also of Ogun's " w ilfu l, e c s ta tic being," which
enjoins the lib e ra l joy of wine, a "mystery" in i t s e l f . "The mystery
o f the wine of palm," Soyinka informs us, "bled s tr a ig h t from the tre e
and potent without fu rth e r m in is tra tio n , is a m iracle of nature
acquiring symbolic sig n ific a n c e in the Mysteries of Ogun." The fo o t
h i l l s of Kithairon may be stain ed with the blood of savaged beasts and
routed men, but th is b lo o d -le ttin g only im itates N atures' own
monstrous cycle of reg en eratio n , death and l i f e —and t h e i r overcoming.
Reabsorbed by the e a rth , the blood s p ille d by the Maenads w ill become
the wine of Dionysos. Thus th e Herdsman, in his concluding moral,
s tre s s e s Dionysos' g i f t of wine ra th e r than the deeper joys of his
worship:
. . . wine makes
Our labours more bearable. Take wine away
And the world is w ithout jo y , to lera n ce or love. (p. 281)
Pentheus, apparently unmoved by the Herdsman's d e sc rip tio n ,
continues with his plans to employ armed force ag ain st the Maenads.
Soyinka excises Coryphaeus' lin e s here (775-779) in which Euripides'
chorus leader speaks out in favor of Dionysos. Instead he has
Pentheus speak d ire c tly of H ellas' hum iliation by the Bacchae.
Pentheus in th is tira d e echoes th e verbal posturing o f the s te r e o
ty pical African d ic ta to r Soyinka has s a tir iz e d so often in his plays:
176
. . . Set in motion
The standard d r i l l fo r a s ta t e of emergency—
I have reasons fo r th a t- - th e s e r e s tiv e dogs
Might see t h e i r chance to stag e a slave u p risin g ,
I have seen sig n s, so see to i t ! (p. 282)
The 47-lin e exchange which follows is only a rough approximation of
Euripides (787-812). E s s e n tia lly , Dionysos warns Pentheus not to take
up arms ag ain st a god and Pentheus counters with his law and order
theme. At the end of th is interchange, involving E uripides' concept
of "n e c e ssity ," Dionysos o ffe rs Pentheus an opportunity to spy on the
women in the mountains.
Soyinka a t th is point departs r a d ic a lly from E uripides' te x t.
In Euripides one shout from the God and Pentheus, the man o f reason,
turns in to a Peeping Tom. Soyinka delays Pentheus' s p ir itu a l death in
favor of plumbing the psychological depths of Pentheus' fe a r th a t
Dionysos' presence in Thebes w ill s e t him fre e . Pentheus denies i t ,
accusing Dionysos of using "cheap conjurer tric k s " during t h e i r f i r s t
encounter in th e s ta b le s . Now his mind is c le a r, he says, and he
knows Dionysos fo r what he i s , "a c h arlatan . Perhaps a spy, an
agent/Of subversion for some foreign power." Dionysos responds by
branding Pentheus a man of chains:
You love chains. Have you u tte re d one phrase
today th a t was not hyphenated by chains? You
breathe chains, ta lk chains, eat chains, dream
chains, think chains. Your world is bound in
manicals. (p. 284)
Even in repose, continues Dionysos, Pentheus is "a cow chewing the
cud," but fo r him i t is molten iron issuing from the furnace of his
so -c a lle d kingly w i l l . Molten iron has replaced Pentheus' umbilical
177
cord and i t issu es from his navel. To emphasize his p o in t, Dionysos
touches Pentheus' navel and attempts to hypnotize him, turning the
submissive Pentheus round and round while continuing the molten iron
imagery. The words become those of a magic s p e ll:
. . . and winds about you a ll the way
back in to your th ro a t where i t [the mol den iron] issues
fo rth again in one unending cycle, (p. 284)
Dionysos holds out his hand before Pentheus1 eyes, lik e a m irro r, and
asks him to recognize his own b eastly r e f le c tio n . Pentheus "with a
superhuman e f fo r t" shakes o ff his hypnotic s t a t e , and t r i e s to snatch
the imaginary m irror. He grasps a i r . Angered, he stands on his
imperial d ignity:
Pentheus: Try th a t tr i c k again! Touch our person once more and
i t w on't be mere chains fo r you. How dare you!
(p. 284)
Dionysos retu rn s to his theme, the tru th -sh a ll-m ak e-y o u -free , pointing
out to Pentheus how "m etallic" his thoughts re a lly a re . He then asks
Pentheus i f he would lik e to glimpse the fu tu re of th is god Dionysos:
. . . Would you lik e to see something of his fa te ,
the past and fu tu re legends of Dionysos--don' t t a l k - -
look! (p. 285)
Two masques follow , a technique not unlike th a t employed by
Genet in The Blacks and by the E lizabethans' Ben Jonson and Inigo
Jones. The f i r s t masque is a minutely choreographed dram atization of
the Hippoclides anecdote re la te d by Herodotus, rig h t down to the Greek
32
words fo r H ippoclides' reply to C listh en es, king of Sicyon. In the
t a l e Hippoclides, an Athenian, is one of the s u ito rs of A gariste,
daughter of C listhenes. At the nuptial f e a s t , where the king is
178
the guest.,; Hippoclides, the chosen s u ito r who has taken too much wine,
mounts a ta b le and dances so shamelessly th a t Clisthenes says, "You
have danced your wife away," whereupon Hippoclides r e t o r t s , "Hippo
clid e s d o esn 't care" [OU QPOVTIS l7nT0KXei6n].
Soyinka stages the legend as a "wedding scene" with music. The
b ridal procession, c o n sistin g of a condescendingly unperceptive n o b il
i t y , enters masked. A gariste, the b rid e , is v eiled . As the bridal
re tin u e passes the a l t a r of Aphrodite, the b rid e 's fa th e r "pauses by
i t , is handed a jug by a servant and pours lib a tio n a t i t s base." The
bride does likew ise and then she and her fa th e r proceed to an elevated
throne surrounded by the n o b ility . A servant g irl brings wine, but is
waved away by the a r i s t o c r a t i c sycophants up fro n t. She f in a ll y finds
tak ers in th e very re a r of the assembled guests.
The bridegroom, awkwardly dressed in his "Sunday b e s t,"
a rriv e s with his b est man who acts as a kind of fuss-budget aide-de-
camp. Both are waved unceremoniously to a seat a t the foot of the
bridal group. More guests a r r iv e , each p e rfu n c to rily pouring a
lib a tio n a t the foot of A phrodite's s ta tu e . Dancers perform while the
bridegroom grows in creasin g ly more uncomfortable. Soyinka's stage
d ire c tio n s block the scene as follows:
The se rv in g -g irl c a rrie s on a q u ie t f l i r t a t i o n with
[the bridegroom], d o e sn 't w ait fo r h is cup to empty
before r e f i l l i n g i t . The bridegroom v isib ly responds
to both charm and blandishments.
A sudden clash of cymbals. All movements stop.
Ceremonially the f a th e r r i s e s , unveails the b rid e .
From a l l the gu ests, hands and faces are l i f t e d in un
m istakable gestures of rap tu re. Except the b rid e -
179
groom. On his face and on the face o f his b est
man are expressions of horror. The bride (also
masked) is a p ic tu re of horrendous irredeemable
u g lin ess, (p. 286)
The l i f t i n g of the b r id e 's veil is an embellishment of Herodotus'
anecdote; i t is meant to bring out the c o n tra st between appearance and
r e a l i ty . I ts obvious touchstone is Hawthorne's sh o rt s to ry , "The
33
M in iste r's Black V eil." The bridegroom's re je c tio n of the b r id e ’s
ugliness symbolizes the illu sio n a ry nature of the c o u rt's perception
of tru e beauty. Soyinka p a r a lle ls th is symbolism with Dionysian myth.
He illu m in ate s the bust of Aphrodite with a s p o tlig h t. Her face
gradually peels o ff revealing underneath the mocking face of Dionysos.
He "beams on the scene," his smile replacing both the studied hauteur
of the bridal party and the cold a u th o rity of Aphrodite, the o f f ic ia l
s ta t e goddess. The new order is now symbolized by the f l i r t a t i o u s
w ine-girl and the wine-bibbing groom. Soyinka describes the actio n :
[The w in e - g ir l’s] groom drinks more and more.
Suddenly he leaps up, brushing aside the r e s t r a i n
ing arm o f his best man. He s tr id e s among the
dancers, stops the musicians and gives them
in s tr u c tio n s . He begins to dance. Already a
transform ation has commenced. The music quickens.
He sto p s, flin g s o ff his mask and garments.
Underneath, the Dionysian fawn-skin. The bridal
group r e g is te r s p re d ic ta b le shock a t the scan tin e ss.
He begins to dance. He DANCES! (p. 286)
At the end of the dance, Soyinka retu rn s to Herodotus. The dancing
bridegroom leaps on the bridal ta b le and stands on his head. But, in
the tr a d itio n a l African gesture of r e je c tio n , his buttocks are turned
to the shocked "high ta b le ." Soyinka ends the scene with the
h is to r ic exchange between C listhenes and Hippoclides. C listh en es'
180
lin es are delivered "over an am plified system" to add to the th e a tric a l
e f f e c t.
Father-in-Law: Hippoclides, you have danced your wife away.
Bridgegroom: (a melon-sized g rin on his face): H ippoclides—
does not care! OU QPOVTIS ' iTrrrOKAelfrn •
A "snap blackout" ends th is f i r s t masque, which is quickly
followed by a new wedding scene a t another side of the stag e . Dionysos,
speaking from the a l t a r o f Aphrodite—Soyinka now lab els i t "the a l t a r
of Aphronysos"—commands Pentheus to look a t the new v isio n . In th is
second scene Soyinka melds three New Testament in cid en ts in an attempt
to p ro je c t the fu tu re fo r Pentheus. The f i r s t two in cid en ts are an
enactment of the Martha and Mary sto ry (Luke 10, 38-42) and the
Magdalene annointment sto ry (Luke 7, 36-50), both of which occurred
l a t e in C h r is t's public l i f e .
At the beginning o f th is masque Mary Magdalene is discovered
annointing the fe e t of "the tr a d itio n a l C h rist-fig u re " who is seated;
he wears the thorn-ivy crown of Dionysos. Behind him, embroidering,
is "a s lig h tly more e ld e rly woman." Like A gariste in the previous
scene, the face of th is e ld e rly woman is hidden but her mask "radiates
an in tern a l peace." She obviously represents C h r is t's mother.
Soyinka's meaning is unmistakable: j u s t as the C hristus of the New
Testament is the logical extension of Dionysos, so his mother, Mary,
is an archetype of Semele.
Into th is group s tr id e s the Martha fig u re , carrying a p itc h e r
under her arm. As in the New Testament account, she is q u ite d i s
tre sse d a t Magdalene's id le n e ss; she turns her p itc h e r upside down
181
to in d icate her pique. What is curious about the scene is th a t the
anointing, o f C h ris t's fe e t by the Magdalen is an e n t i r e ly d iff e r e n t
in cident in the s c rip tu r e s , one in which Martha was not present
(Luke 7, 36-50). Soyinka blends i t here with the Martha/Mary con
fro n ta tio n in order to bring o ut, as he says, "the feminine logic
(pace Fern. Lib.) th a t the wine shortage is r e la te d to th e id le foot-
anointer" (p. 287). But th ere is more to i t than th a t. In the New
Testament Mary of Magdala, the s i s t e r of Martha and Lazarus, was a
sin n er. She anoints C hrist a t the house of Simon the ph arisee, who
is properly indignant. But, as C hrist explains to the p h arisee,
"Because she has loved much, many sin s are forgiven her" (Luke 7, 47).
Indeed i t was a t Magdalen's prayer th a t C hrist ra ise d Lazarus from the
dead (John 11, 1-45). And when, a f t e r the c ru c ifix io n of C h rist, a t
which she was present in sorrow and w eariness, she seeks where they
have la id her Lord, C hrist c a lls her by name and commands her to
announce his re su rre c tio n to his d is c ip le s . Soyinka, who passes o ff
so lig h tly his purpose here, w ill gather up these b ib lic a l strands of
meaning in his innovative ending to the drama. S u ffice i t to say here
th a t Simon the pharisee and Lazarus represent d if f e r e n t aspects of
Pentheus' c h a ra c te r, a t once hyp o critical y e t dead to the new r e lig io n .
Pentheus w ill be re su rre c te d , in a sense, by his "Blessed" mother,
Agave/Magdalen, who w ill be forgiven her sin of f i l i c i d e because she
has loved Dionysos, him self the prototype of the C hristus. What
0. B. Hardison has remarked of medieval drama is perhaps ap p licab le
here:
182
From a r a t i o n a l i s t i c point of view, [Soyinka's]
drama is a tis s u e of im p o s s ib ilitie s strung
to g eth er on an absurd parody of a p lo t and staged
with a b izarre mixture of improvisation and crude
re a lis m .34
A reenactment of the wedding f e a s t a t Gana follows the Martha/
Mary co n fro n tatio n , again a s c rip tu ra l v ig n ette bent s lig h tly out of
shape (John 2, 1-11). Soyinka stages i t th is way:
The C hrist fig u re makes peace, in d icates th a t
the p itc h e r should be f i l l e d with the contents
of a pot in a corner. Water is poured into the
p itc h e r. He ra ise s his hand, blesses i t . Takes
a cup and in v ite s her to f i l l i t from the p itc h e r.
T astes, nods, passes the cup to the i r a t e woman.
Her expression changes to rap tu re. She passes the
cup to the kneeling woman, embraces the man. All
t a s t e , and are fu ll of wonder, love and forgiveness.
General embraces. She h u rries out. Noise from OFF
in d icates the success of th is wine. The [Christ]
fig u re looks up, smiles b e a t i f ic a l ly in the d ire c tio n
o f the sound, (p. 287)
Soyinka's ju x ta p o sitio n of the marriage f e a s t a t Cana with the two
previous New Testament scenes is in trig u in g . The Cana in cid en t
occurred e arly in C h r is t's public m in istry ; Martha and Magdalen were
not on the guest l i s t and, presumably, C hrist did not know them. W hy
then combine in one masque th is in cid en t with Magdalen's anointing
of C hrist and present the whole as a synthesis of re lig io u s imagery?
P art of the answer, I suspect, lie s in Soyinka's attem pt to show in
dramatic form what Jung pointed out in The Origins of European
Thought:
The wine m iracle a t Cana was the same as the
m iracle in the temple of Dionysos, and i t is
profoundly s ig n if ic a n t t h a t , on the Damascus
Chalace, C hrist is enthroned among the vine
te n d r ils lik e Dionysus h im se lf.35
183
I t should also be noted th a t in Euripides the Dionysian m iracle of
Cana on the slopes of Cithaeron occurs o ffsta g e . Ju st before the
sparagmos, the slopes of Cithaeron flow with milk and wine, water runs
from the rocks, streams of honey t r i c k l e from laurel-adorned th y r s i.
Here is Euripides:
. . . One woman struck her thyrsus ag ain st a rock
and a fountain of cool water came bubbling up.
Another drove her fennel in the ground, and where
i t struck the earth a t the touch of god, a spring
of wine poured out. Those who wanted milk scratched
a t the so il with bare fingers and the white milk came
w elling up. Pure honey spurted, stream ing, from
t h e i r wands. (703, f f . )
Soyinka chooses to present the C hristian m iracle a t Cana e x p l i c i t l y ,
onstage, and in tableau format. His purpose is fo urfold:
1. Within the confines o f the dramatic a c tio n , to reveal to
Pentheus the benign nature o f the Dionysiac r i t e s .
2. To underscore fo r the modern audience the c a th o lic ity of
Euripides 1—and his own—theological v ision.
3. To prepare the audience fo r his innovative ending to
E uripides' drama.
4. To i l l u s t r a t e th a t C h rist, as D ionysian-figure, was the
embodiment of a ll the "moist elem ents"--w ater, m ilk, wine
and sperm. These elements connote fo r Soyinka, as they
did fo r Euripides, awesome things [Gk. deinon, d e in a ] ,th a t
i s , those external forces which a c t upon man.
One f u rth e r point in respect of Soyinka's use of the masque/
tableau format fo r these two New Testament scenes, namely, Dionysos
as guide to visions past and fu tu re . The device is e ith e r a throwback
184
to the New Testament ("Jesus was led by the S p i r i t in to the d esert to
be tempted by the devil" Matth. 4, 1-11), or an im itatio n of Dickens
(the ghosts of Christmas P ast, P resent, and Future in A Christmas
C arol). Whatever i t s source, the technique is dram atically e ffe c tiv e
here. Pentheus is on the verge of consenting to go with Dionysos to
watch the Maenads on Mt. Citheron where he w ill p a r tic ip a te in his own
passion and death. His guide to visions of th e fu tu re w ill also
become his executioner, d eliv erin g him up to be hunted down and torn
ap art by a pack of women.
In tru e cinematic fashion the Cana scene "fades slow ly."
Lights come up on Dionysos and Pentheus and we are back w ithin the
confines o f E u rip id es’ te x t. Soyinka bridges the gap between masque
and te x t by having Dionysos hold out the Cana cup to Pentheus:
Pentheus: (taking i t . ) : Was th a t . . . he? Your god?
Dionysos: Does i t m atter? Drink!
Pentheus: Can I see some more? (Slowly, dreamily, Pentheus
ra ise s the cup to h is l i p s . ) (p. 187)
F o rty-three lin e s of dialogue follow in which Dionysos offers
Pentheus an opportunity to spy upon the women in the mountains.
These lin e s roughly correspond to Euripides (813-820). Soyinka changes
Euripides' d r i f t , however, by reintroducing the idea of illu s io n versus
r e a l i ty . Dionysos reminds Pentheus th a t, as an "ad m in istrato r," he
should not take the "shadows" he has j u s t seen too se rio u sly :
Dionysos: . . . Reality
Is your only sa fe ty . Continue to r e j e c t illu s io n .
Pentheus: I do. (p. 287)
185
The business of providing Pentheus with a d isguise is expanded
to include the r is k involved in going to the mountains. Pentheus
ponders various d isg u ise s—s o ld ie r , peasant, herdsman—unti 1 Dionysos
f in a ll y suggests he go as a Maenad (Euripides, 821). Pentheus suddenly
becomes le ss enamored of the plan, claiming i t is "too undig n ified ."
There is considerable change here from E uripides' te x t. Instead of
Dionysos describing the Maenad's dress (E uripides, 829-845), Soyinka
introduces the d ressin g -o f-th e-h ero : convention, which lends the
37
scene a c e rta in Chaucerian fla v o r. I t is not Pentheus who i n s is ts
on wearing armor fo r his encounter with the Maenads, but Dionysos:
Pentheus: I sh a ll go as I am.
Dionysos: As you wish. But wear your armor a t le a s t.
I t may d e fle c t a stone or two. Why seek bruises
From foolhardiness, (p. 288)
Dionysos orders the Old Slave to bring Pentheus his armor. The Old
Slave returns with a female Bacchic costume which Pentheus thinks is
armor. Dionysos proceeds to dress the hero who s tr ik e s the customary
stance of a commander being armed by his batman. Pentheus remarks on
the softness of his armor— "Hardly lik e bronze and ste e l" --a n d claims
to feel a b i t lightheaded. Dionysos turns th is comment in to a
Bacchic joke:
Dionysos: Wine lig h te n s a ll burdens. You w ill discover
How l i g h t l y you walk, how your steps quicken
And turn to dance.
Pentheus: I feel i t already. Hurry. You must r e s tr a in me
As we go. I feel I sh all hardly conduct myself
As becomes a s o ld ie r and a king. (p. 289)
186
Dionysos fastens a jew elled brooch on Pentheus' costume. Pentheus
c a lls Dionysos a "dark horse, fu ll of hidden ta le n ts " and is amazed
a t Dionysos' d e x te rity with what he believes to be "an armourer's
chains and buckles." The Stranger quips, "Dionysos taught me a ll I
know." Pentheus t i l t s his wine cup only to find i t empty. Dionysos
stre tc h e s his hand in a wand-like gesture and says, "Your cup is f u l l . "
Pentheus takes a prolonged draught.
Soyinka now takes up Euripides' te x t (848, f f . ) , but instead
of Pentheus returning to the place in a s ta te of in d e c isio n , Soyinka
has him remain onstage during the exchange between th e Bacchante and
l a t e r with him self. At the end of th is sequence, Soyinka in je c ts 15
ex tra lin es of dialogue between Dionysos and Pentheus. Pentheus says
he intends to hold both T ire sia s and his grandfather Kadmos responsible
for not s e ttin g him a b e tte r example and saving him the bother of
waging what he perceives to be a m ilita ry campaign ag ain st the
Bacchantes. He also expresses his uneasiness a t the prospect of fin d
ing his mother en fla g ra n t d e l i t a t the Maenad's r i t e s , but Dionysos
se ts his mind a t r e s t .
Dionysos: . . .About Agave, s e t your mind
a t r e s t . I shall bring re c o n c ilia tio n to
Mother and son. You shall re tu rn , Pentheus,
Cradled in your mother's arms.
(A gradual commencement of lig h t changes, p. 291)
187
Third Stasimon (862-911)
Soyinka la rg e ly ignores the com plexities of philosophy as well
as much of the pure poetry of E uripides' th ird stasimon. He concen
tr a te s instead on Euripides' "Song of Freedom" (strophe 1, 861-865),
in te rp o la tin g lin es from the Harvest sectio n of his poem Idanre.
Here is Euripides:
—When sh all I dance once more
with bare f e e t the a ll- n ig h t dances,
to ssin g my head fo r joy
in the damp a i r , in the dew, . . . (862-865)
Soyinka transposes the Bacchantes' hope th a t they w ill be free to con
tinue t h e i r "all night dances" in th is manner:
Leader: Night, night s e t me free
Sky of a m illion roe, highway of eyes
Dust on mothwing, l e t me ride
• . On every sile n c e s, fre e ly
Dawn on the reins of dreams, (p. 291)
In Idanre, from which these lin es are derived, the poet returns from
his lonely and hazardous walk among the Yoruba gods and s p i r i t s to a
w in e -g irl. She is symbolic of his separateness from the so cie ty he
s e rv e s -- ju s t as Pentheus is separate from the Bacchante worshippers
of Dionysos. The w ine-girl has kept her lone v ig il a t the foot of
Idanre mountain, prepared to w ait "incurious" fo r the h arvest. As an
ordinary human she was unable to fathom why the poet sought the h i l l s
a t h arv est time. With his retu rn she looks forward to a f r u i t f u l and
natural harv est.
The Bacchantes in Soyinka's Bacchae look forward to the same
kind of "release to a calm / Of green h i l l s " where they w ill be free
to continue "the dance of night":
188
Slave Leader: Come dawn, in th e dance of the sun.
Come dawn, herald of the new order, (p. 291)
Soyinka omits the r e fr a in to Euripides' strophe 1—revenge is sweet
and is sanctioned by the gods. Instead he s tr e s s e s the Bacchantes'
i n i t i a l thoughts of a fawn who has escaped the hunters and races
jo y fu lly by the woods and riv e r. This theme of hunter and prey is
central to the drama and Soyinka is careful to adhere clo sely to the
o riginal te x t:
1 st Bacchante: But gently , as the dance of the young dear swathed
In emerald meadow, when the t e r r o r of the hunt is
p a s t,
The leap over knotted n e ts, the h u n te r's shrieks
Forgotten, (p. 291)
Soyinka then closes h is abridgement of the ode in th e h o rta tiv e sub
ju n c tiv e :
1 st Bacchante: Let the new order bring peace,
Repose, p le n titu d e . . . .
Bacchante: . . . the lu ll
Of a sweet mothering copse, a tim eless shade
Where no danger lurks . . .
This safe-haven sentim ent is only implied by Euripides in his epode—
29 lin e s l a t e r —where he employs a nautical metaphor, in contast to
Soyinka's arboreal one, to express the renewed joy of the Bacchantes
a t the prospect of sa fe ty :
— Blessed is he who escapes a storm a t sea,
who comes home to his harbor. (902-903)
Fourth Episode (915-976)
Soyinka chooses not to break the in te ra c tio n between the
Chorus and the main c h aracters. When he resumes E uripides' sto ry
lin e , Dionysos is " s t i l l tucking in and tric k in g -o u t Pentheus."
182.
Soyinka adds a nice touch to Dionysos' c h a ra c te riz a tio n : " . . . his
mouth is fu ll of pins and c l i p s ." Pentheus is feelin g the e f fe c ts of
the wine. Dionysos asks him i f his wish is s t i l l "white hot fo r a
peep / At the forbidden?" In Euripides, Pentheus is drunk w ithout the
physical s a tis f a c tio n of strong drink; here he is pictured as s lig h tly
tip sy :
Pentheus: I seem to see two suns
Blazing in the heavens. And now two Thebes
Two c i t i e s , each with seven gates.
This is Soyinka's way o f formulating Pentheus' conquest a t th e hand
of Dionysos. Drunk he sees more keenly, or a t any ra te more
completely:
. . . Are you—
Are you a bu ll? There are horns newly
Sprouted from your head. Have you always been a
A bull?
And Dionysos re p lie s:
Now you see what you ought to see. Dionysos
Has been good to you with his g i f t of wine.
In his note on E uripides' o rig in al passage (918-924), Rosenmeyer
remarks th a t "For the f i r s t time Pentheus' eyes are s u f f ic ie n tly
opened to see the god in his animal shape. His vision is broadened;
38
but his ro le as Pentheus is fin is h e d ." Soyinka makes the d i s i n t e
g ration of the king p a r tic u la rly painful by the iro n ic emphasis on the
feminine clothing which Pentheus perceives as b a t t l e dress. Although
he follows Euripides in the business of Pentheus' costume coming
loose, Soyinka avoids having Dionysos use th e terms fo r feminine
190
c lo th in g — " c u rls ," "snood," "hem," "robe," "snap." Instead Soyinka
has him rein fo rce the m ilita ry illu s io n :
Dionysos: . . . T here--all th a t a g ita tio n has made
Your curass come loose. And the knee-guard
Keep s t i l l t i l l they are strapped in p o sitio n .
Pentheus: I w ill make you n\y armourer, a f t e r th is
campaign, (p. 292)
Soyinka ignores E uripides' te x t here—the k in g 's fussy and vain
concern about the d e ta ils of his Bacchic vestments (928-960)—in favor
of a 27-line exchange between two slaves on the meaning of l i f e . The
g i s t o f t h e i r metaphysical specualations about the forces th a t govern
man is th a t these forces are "born in the blood / Unarguable, observed
and preserved before time. . . . " "As freedom," remarks the Slave
Leader. By im plication these inexplicable forces — " p rin c ip le s ,"
"elements," "cu rre n ts"—are d iam etrica lly opposed to those which once
governed Pentheus. Before he came under Dionysos' s p e ll , he marched
to a d iff e r e n t drummer but at le a s t he marched. His s p ir itu a l "forces"
were d ire cted toward the mustering of armies and the implementation
of public decisions; now these same forces are bestowed on the arrange
ment o f his military-cum-Bacchic uniform which the two slaves find
ludicrous. Far from seeking Euripidean anonymity so th a t he may
attend the Bacchic orgies unobserved, Soyinka's Penthesus p a th e tic a lly
persues public recognition in a costume which he f a i l s to r e a liz e is
the a n th ith e sis of the v ita a c t i v a . Along with his a tte n tio n to
m i l i t a r i s t i c preening, to the external signs of p o litic a l a u th o rity ,
th ere goes an in te rn a l change which is equally preposterous. The
blocked doer turns in to an uninhibited dreamer:
191
Pentheus: I feel superhuman. I could h o ist the whole
of Kithairon
On one shoulder--w ith valley s fu ll of women. . . .
(p. 293)
His imagination has been f ir e d , but his su rly prejudices are f a r from
gone. The Bacchanized Pentheus of Soyinka's play is n eith er visionary
nor poet. Far from i t . He has become a m artin e t, eschewing the covert
approach to the Bacchic orgies on the mountain. His speech remains
formally royal and v io le n t and ringing; i t has not become p re tty and
l y r i c a l , as in Euripides, where Pentheus p ic tu re s the women:
. . . among the bushes,
mating lik e b ird s , caught in the t o i l s of love. (957)
Soyinka leaves out e n tir e ly Pentheus' h a llu c in a tio n in which Euripides
has him foresee his mother bringing him back from Cithaeron in her
arms (967, f f . ) . In Soyinka's play he remains a p o litic a l man unable
to rid him self of the social r e s t r i c t io n s and c la s s if ic a tio n s of his
kind. Thus, Euripides' lin e , "You and you alone w ill s u ffe r fo r our
c ity " takes on an e n tire ly d iff e r e n t meaning in Soyinka's tra n s la tio n .
Now the king is scapegoat fo r the c ity n ot, in Rosenmeyer's words, as
"a s e n tie n t creatu re fo r whom the m other's cradled arms o ffe r escape
and b l i s s , " but as imagined hero of his people:
Dionysos: . . . L i k e those gods who yearly
Must be re n t to spring anew, th a t also
Is the f a te of heroes.
Pentheus: We'll march through Thebes. I l a t e l y imported
A famed d rill-m a s te r fo r the troops. An expert.
(p. 293)
This is Pentheus' cue to f a ll back in to his ch aracter of African
m ilita ry d ic ta to r importing foreign e x p e r ts ; to lend:^is: regime the
192
patina of Western r e s p e c ta b ility . Pentheus then teaches Dionysos the
movements of a special new march taught to his troops by a "famed
d r ill- m a s te r . . . from Phrygia! Hey, t h a t 's you," he says, thus
completing the in terlo ck in g iro n ic s tru c tu re of meaning. The new
march, he continues, is a m asterpiece of precision and he proposes
they "prance through Thebes" to i t s accompaniment. Then, drawing what
he believes to be his "sword" (th y rs u s), Pentheus "performs a b r ie f
s a lu te forwards and sideways, then s tr ik e s a dance pose." Accompanied
by the music from ZorbS, he begins to teach Dionysos the movements of
the dance, ex actly as T ire sia s has done with Kadmos e a r l i e r (p. 255):
Pentheus: Here we go—
One-Two-Back, One-Two-Back, One-Two-Back. . . .
As the music of the bouzouki increases in volume, Pentheus throws him
s e l f p assionately in to the dance, encouraging Dionysos' e f f o r ts :
Pentheus: T h a t's i t . Very good. A l i t t l e higher a t the knees.
You're lig h t on your f e e t , I must say, qu ite
An accomplished dancer. Well, shall we advance?
The v ictory of Dionysos is complete, the king is s p i r i t u a l l y dead,
but not in the manner of Euripides. True, the man has been found out,
y e t his illu s io n s of a m ilita ry conquest of the Maenads remain in ta c t.
Dionysus' fin a l e x u ltan t b o a s t.in Euripides:
. . . The v ic to r? Bromius.
Bromius—and I. The r e s t the event shall show. (975)
is changed by Soyinka to in d ic a te th a t D io n y so sc o n q u e st is only a
pyrric v ic to ry . Pentheus leaves the stage with a loud youdel exclaim
ing, "Death to the Bacchae!" As his voice dies o ff in the d istan ce ,
the stage d ire c tio n s p ictu re Dionysos exhausted from his ordeal. "He
193
stands and speaks with more than a suspicion of weariness from th is
now concluding c o n f lic t. I t is not e n tire ly a noble victory" (p. 294).
Dionysos e x its with an exhortation to the Bacchantes to prepare for
Pentheus' coming. E uripides' lin e about Agave cradling Pentheus in her
arms (968) is repeated here, but again with an e n tire ly d iffe re n t
meaning. S y n ta c tic a lly , i t is now a command to Agave to fin is h the
task a t which Dionysos has been only p a r tia lly successful:
Dionysos: Agave, open your mothering arms—
Take him. Mother him. Smother him with joy. (p. 294)
Fourth Stasimon (977-1023)
Soyinka introduces Euripides' fourth stasimon with a dog-howl,
"a wail of death." Throughout the exchanges th a t follow, the Chorus of
Slaves will gradually meld with the Bacchae "in a te rs e s e rie s of
dramatic motions," not a dance. Their action takes i t s m otif from
"the decisive gesture of throwing in th e i r lo t with the Bacchae, the
castin g o ff of the long vassalage in the House of Pentheus" (p. 294).
There is nothing lik e th is in Euripides, where the Chorus e c s ta tic a lly
imagines the vengeance which w ill overtake t h e i r enemy Pentheus on
the mountain and ask th e i r god to appear in his b e s tia l form.
Euripides' choral song covers the time during which Pentheus meets
his death; y e t, t h e i r imagining of the events does not correspond with
what a c tu a lly happens. Although he expands E uripides' 4 6 -lin e ode to
80 lin e s , Soyinka re ta in s much of the orig in al fla v o r and tra n s la te s
some of the lin es ex actly . As he did in the th ird stasimon, Soyinka
has various members of the combined Chorus r e c ite individual parts o f
194
the ode (Leader, Slave, 1st Bacchante, e t c . ) . Where E uripides' Chorus
p ictu re s Agave standing on a c l i f f and, seeing Pentheus "lurking"
(984), c a llin g to the other women, Soyinka introduces a s ty liz e d mime
of the hunt performed by th re e or four o f the Bacchae. The mime
continues throughout the following speeches and ends a t the entry of
the O fficer (E uripides' Messenger, 1024). Soyinka also recycles two
of his fa v o rite themes: balance— "Now we shall see the balance
re sto re d " —and disease in the body p o l i t i c :
Bacchante: In te n t with sick passion
His [Pentheus'] mind is a sewer r a t
Rooting and s n iffin g to the liv in g h e a rt. . . . (p. 295]
In the r e fr a in (an tistro p h e 1) where Euripides has the Chorus c a s tig a te
Pentheus fo r "profaning the r i t e s of the mother of god" (999), Soyinka
adds a Bacchic chant. The lin e s are again from the Harvest section
of Idanre:
Seven-ply crossroads, hands of camwood
Breath of indigo, . . . the re c re a tiv e f l i n t . . . .
( Id an re, p. 83)
Soyinka ends his version of the ode with a te n - lin e tra n s la tio n of
Euripides' epode: the god is summoned in one of his animal, and
th e re fo re w ild e st, forms:
1st Bacchante: Bromius come! Master! Lover! Bull with norns
Of f i r e . Serpent with fangs of love. Lion
At my b r e a s ts , Eternal Ember in my hearth.
Hunt th is game to the ground, Come Bromius!
(p. 296)
(Enter the O fficer j u s t as the arm of the miming
Bacchante is ra ise d to s tr ik e the "quarry.")
195
F ifth Episode (1024-1152)
This is the key episode in the drama. Soyinka follows
Euripides' te x t without serious in te rru p tio n . B rie fly , the story lin e
is th is : A messenger (Soyinka's O fficer) en ters to describe Pentheus'
death on the mountain; the Theban women, led by Pentheus' mother Agave,
have torn Pentheus a p a rt. Agave, s t i l l maddened by Dionysos, is
returning to Thebes with Pentheus' head, which she imagines to be a
b e a s t's head on a stak e . The d e ta ils of the O f fic e r 's rep o rt are
r e la tiv e ly unimportant in re la tio n to the Dionysiac excess of
Pentheus' dismemberment ( sparagmos) and i t s macabre climax (Euripides,
1122-1137). Soyinka's d escrip tio n of the s c a tte rin g of Pentheus' body
and Agave's treatm ent of the head is f a i r l y close to Euripides:
O fficer: His mother seized the head, impaled i t on a wand
And seems to think i t is a mountain l i o n 's head
She bears in triumph through the thickness of
K ithairon. (p. 299)
Soyinka is obviously building th e case fo r his innovative ending to
the drama by focusing on those elements in E uripides' te x t which h in t
39
a t "a manic re lig io u s in sp ira tio n suddenly l e t loose."
F ifth Stasimon (1153-1392)
Soyinka opens th is fin a l section of the drama with 17 lin es
of dialogue between the Old Slave and the Chorus (Euripides has the
Chorus sing of t h e i r joy a t the god's successful revenge). In these
exchanges Soyinka s tre s s e s th re e ideas: th a t "the ways of the god are
hard to understand"; th a t th ere is decay in the body p o l i t i c ; and
th a t Dionysos is h e a rtle s s to have allowed Agave to k i l l Pentheus the
way she did:
196
Old Slave: 0 th is is a h e a rtle ss
Deity, b i t t e r , unnatural in his revenge, (p. 300)
The Leader responds by asking the Old Slave i f i t were he who had died,
would anybody have p itie d him. The Old Slave re p lie s th a t he s t i l l
p itie s Agave even though he fears " s h e 'll prove/Beyond mortal consola
tio n . 1 1
Soyinka s h if ts d ire c tly to E uripides' Exodus (1165-1392) a t
th is p o in t, skipping e n tire ly the Chorus' epodal sentiment concerning
t h e i r horror a t what the pseudo-Bacchants have accomplished (1160-1164)
Agave en ters with a s ty liz e d head o f Pentheus done up in ribbons. She
thinks she is carrying the head of a lion and the Chorus, humoring her
madness, asks her to t e l l them of the hunt. Soyinka in je c ts the
"pride-was-humbled" theme here (not in the orig in al t e x t ) , and ignores
E uripides' r a p id - f ir e dialogue between the Chorus and Agave in which
she gives a mad and triumphant account o f Pentheus' capture. Instead
Soyinka has Agave grap h ically describe the dismemberment of Pentheus,
echoing the O ffic e r's speech e a r l i e r on (Euripides leaves th is out of
the exodos e n t i r e ly ) . In a frenzy of joy, Soyinka's Agave in v ite s a ll
to "share in [her] glory" a t a " fe a st of c e le b ra tio n ." In Euripides
her words are a c le a r in d ic a tio n th a t "she wants the Chorus to f u l f i l l
40
the r itu a l o f omophagia and consume the fresh meat"; here in
Soyinka's context her meaning is ambiguous. The Slave Leader is
skeptical about eating th is lion-cum-man, but Agave is unperturbed,
c a llin g the impaled, s ty liz e d head of Pentheus:
197
Agave: This b u ll, lio n , th is sw ift mountain-goat
This flash of wind in grassland,
This dew skinned deer. . . . (p. 301)
Pentheus, in the s ta b le sequence, saw the stra n g e r only as a bull —
hardly a delusion, but ra th e r a tru e glimpse of the animal nature of
the god in his w ild e st and most potent form. Soyinka's Agave, on the
other hand, is tru ly deluded; y e t in her blindness she sees the god
not as a lio n merely, but in his myriad m an ife statio n s, a "flash of
the wind in g rasslan d ." This is an in t u i t i v e in te rp r e ta tio n of
Euripides' te x t (1185, f f . ) , where i t is not a t a ll certa in th a t Agave
stray s from her c o n siste n t delusion th a t what she is holding is the
head o f a young lio n :
Agave (E uripides): See the whelp is young and tender.
Beneath the s o f t mane of his h a ir , ,,
the down is blooming on the cheeks.
Soyinka's d e lib e ra te emphasis on the god's varied m anifestations is
c o n siste n t with his notion of re lig io u s synthesis seen e a r l i e r in the
masque sequences of episode 3.
Agave continues her wild ramblings, p raisin g Dionysos in his
Bacchic ro le as "the hunter [who] Launched the Maenads on his prey."
The Old Slave agrees and re s ta te s the theme of sa lv a tio n through s e l f -
d estru ctio n :
Old Slave: [Dionysos] knows
The way to a death-hunt of the s e lf . (p. 301)
The Chorus p ra ise Agave as "the blessed Mother"; the Old Slave adds
"And your son," emphasizing once again the p la y 's them atically
C hristian undercurrent.
198
In Soyinka's play the impaled head o f Pentheus is obscured
from the Chorus by a "shroud of gold" ribbons. When the Old Slave
asks Agave to show her trophy to the c itiz e n s of Thebes, she takes
the thyrsus on which Pentheus' head is impaled in both hands and
w hirls i t :
Stage D irections: The Maenads chase and catch the ribbons
as they unfurl and f lo a t outwards. With
Agave in the c e n te r, a Maypole dance evolves
n a tu ra lly from t h e i r p o sitio n s. I t is a s o ft
graceful dance, (p. 302)
By way of c o n tra st, the Chorus in Euripides' drama is here m otionless.
They have long since ceased t h e i r e c s t a t ic leaping and wallowing in
the orch estra in p raise of Dionysus' v ic to ry . Their shock a t Agave's
suggestion th a t they a c tu a lly e a t Pentheus' head has sobered them.
Only Agave continues to dance. Thus, E uripides' Chorus re v e rts to
humoring Agave's holy trance. In Soyinka's rendering everybody remains
e n th ra lle d so th a t they can harbor no qualms about f u l f i l l i n g the
r itu a l o f omophagia, regardless of what form i t takes. The Maypole
dance, th e re fo re , is a dramatic ploy to keep the godsent frenzy aglow.
As in Euripides (1200, f f . ) , Soyinka's Agave requests th a t
Kadmos and Pentheus be fetched and th a t a ladder be brought so th a t
her trophy may "Fly high upon our palace w alls" (p. 303). However,
in Soyinka's version, a Baochanite re lie v e s Agave a t the Maypole while
Agave takes the Bacchante's place with the dancing Maenads:
Stage D irections: In sta n tly the dance grows frenzied and works
up to a high p itc h . The Slave Leader re
en ters with a ladder, stands watching fo r
some moments. He se ts the ladder in position
and shouts above the music.
199
Slave Leader (a mock bow): The Ladder, Queen Mother Agave!
(p. 303)
Agave looks up from her place in the dance, "rushes back and snatches
the thyrsus and ' f l i e s ' up the ladder with i t " (stage d ire c tio n s ).
This places her high above the dancers, a position in E uripides' drama
occupied by a smiling Dionysos in his fin a l ro le as deus ex machina.
Soyinka's Agave has, in a sense, replaced Dionysos' physical presence.
She resembles more E uripides' Medea, raving on the rooftop, than she
does his Agave.
In E u rip id es’ te x t Agave responds to the Chorus' p ity lik e a
kind of automaton, holding up her trophy fo r the c itiz e n s of Thebes
(1200, f f . ) . Her godlike stance atop the ladder, in Soyinka's version,
s e ts the stage fo r her d e ific a tio n and fo r Soyinka's ending—a neat,
i f minor, coup de t h e a t r e .
J u st as the audience is adjusting to "Queen Mother Agave,"
Kadmos en ters from Kithairon with the remains of Pentheus' body. He
is supported by T ire sia s and followed by attendants who carry a covered
b ie r. A fter he warns Pentheus a g ain st arrogance a t the end of the
f i r s t episode (368, f f . ) , T ire sia s never reappears in E uripides'
o rig in al te x t. His reemergence here, in Soyinka's v ersio n , is more
lo g ic a l: in the th ird episode both he and Kadmos had gone o ff to
Kithairon together to "harness th is great fo rce/F or our common good"
(p. 263). Having paid t h e i r tr ib u te to Dionysos, they were back in
Thebes when news of Pentheus' death reached them. They returned to
the mountain and re trie v e d Pentheus' remains. Soyinka's Kadmos labels
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the k illin g an "unseasonable h arv est," a "gory crop," whereas
Euripides has Cadmus call i t an "atrocious crime" (1223). The change
in image is c o n siste n t with Soyinka's view of the Dionysiac r i t e s as
nature-propi t ia tio n r i t u a l .
Agave, s t i l l "stung with madness," r e s o rts to a macabre show-
a n d -te ll game with the two old men. She asks Kadmos and T iresia s to
turn around and not to look while she arranges Pentheus' beribboned
head on "a royal masthead." (Euripides has Agave tr y to hand Cadmus
Pentheus' severed head.) Soyinka has her cry out: "Look Father. Turn
around! / Glory in my k i l l . . . . " (p. 304). Pentheus' head is now
enthrowned high above the sp e c ta to rs. Kadmos is properly aghast, as
he is in Euripides, but fo r a d iff e r e n t reason. Here Pentheus has
ursurped the place of the god; in Euripides, Cadmus reacts to having
the gory head placed in his hands. For the next 40 lin e s or so
Soyinka follows the o rig in al te x t r a th e r c lo se ly . However, when
Cadmus breaks down to th is "sorrow unmeasurable," Euripides has him
say Dionysos was j u s t i f i e d in exacting punishment, but the punishment
is too severe:
Cadmus: . . . . how the god has ruined us, j u s t l y , but to excess,
the lord Bromios who is our kinsman!
(1249 f ., K irk's tra n s la tio n )
Soyinka has Kadmos accuse Dionysos of lack of compassion--a t r a i t not
unlike th a t o f the Yoruba god Ogun:
Kadmos: Dionysos is j u s t . But he is not f a ir !
Though he had rig h t on his s id e , he lacks
Compassion, the deeper j u s t i c e . And he was born
Here. This . . . is his home . . . t h i s soil gave
him b ir th , (p. 304)
201
Soyinka avoids any mention of Dionysiac ju s t i c e ruining Kadmos'
fam ily, though the issu e is ra ise d by Euripides' te x t (1249, f f . ) . To
do so would be to admit Kadmos recognizes th a t his reasons for
accepting Dionysos were to preserve the family rep u tatio n . Soyinka had
c a re fu lly sidestepped th is issue e a r l i e r in the debate between Kadmos,
T ire sia s and Pentheus.
Following the elevation of Pentheus' head, Agave descends the
ladder slowly and goes r ig h t up to Kadmos. To her e a r l i e r boastfulness
she now adds p etu lan t resentment a t the lack of obvious approval,
c a llin g Kadmos an "old sourpuss." Soyinka infuses Agave's next speech
with a c e rta in Women's Lib q u a lity :
Agave: . . . Monopoly / Of the s a c r i f i c i a l knife passes
Into women's hands
And turns [Kadmos] crabbed and sour. (p. 304)
The next 48 lin e s are orthodox Euripides (1255-1303) with some word
s u b s titu tio n and phrasal a d d itio n s. Kadmos i n i t i a l l y stru g g les to
bring Agave back to sa n ity by adopting a c irc u ito u s approach to her
recognition of her own id e n tity . He begins with a s e rie s of questions.
When he asks Agave, "Does the sky look the same to you?" she answers
as in Euripides (1267): " I t seems . . . . somehow . . . c le a r e r,
b rig h te r than before" (p. 305). But, then, Soyinka has Agave add,
"There is a red glow of su n set, a color of blood." Her observation
is a symbolic fo re c a st of Soyinka's sacramental ending. Kadmos
inquires i f she s t i l l fe e ls the same sense of "flo atin g " ("passionate
excitem ent," in K irk's tr a n s l a t i o n ) . Agave re p lie s in th e negative,
adding:
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Agave: . . . The world
No longer heaves as i f w ithin my womb.
There was a wind too but . . . I think . . . i t ' s . . .
dropped (p. 305)
Her world, in other words, has come back in to balance. Kadmos, in the
manner of his Euripi dean co u nterpart, endeavors to get Agave to re a liz e
what she has done. Since she does not hold Pentheus' head in her
hands, as in Euripides, she must, a t Kadmos' command, look up to the
top of the ladder:
Kadmos: Now look up a t the face you've s e t
Upon th a t w all. Whose head is i t ?
This is the beginning of the c ru c ifix io n symbolism with which Soyinka
closes the drama. Agave has two recognitions: she f i r s t sees Pentheus
as a lio n (Euripides, 1278) and then, upon c lo se r in sp ectio n , as
"another slave" (not in E uripides). The second id e n tific a tio n enables
Soyinka to rein fo rce the c ru c ifix io n imagery:
Agave: . . . But why did I nail i t
Right over the entrance? (p. 305)
At Kadmos' in siste n c e Agave moves d ire c tly under the ladder. She
recognizes the head as Pentheus'. Compared to th e saccharine blandness
of Agave's reactio n in Euripides:
Agave: . . . I t i s - -
Pentheus' head— I hold-- (1284)
her reaction in Soyinka is highly charged emotionally:
Stage D irections: She s tif f e n s suddenly, her body shudders and
she w hirls round screaming, (p. 306)
Agave: Bring him down! Bring him down! Bring him . . .
(Kadmos has moved c lo se r, and she collapses into
his shoulders sobbing.)
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Kadmos orders the Slaves to bring down Pentheus' head but they cringe
from the task . Agave, "suddenly calmer," commands th a t no hand but
hers be la id on Pentheus:
Agave: I am his mother. I brought him out to l i f e
I shall prepare him fo r his grave, (p. 306)
She turns towards the ladder, stops and asks, "How did he die?"
(Euripides: "Who k ille d him?" (1286)). E uripides' next 14 lin e s (1287-
1301) are completely rearranged and condensed by Soyinka. Instead of
the o ne-line exchanges between Agave and Cadmus, which precede Cadmus'
re v elatio n o f Pentheus' m utilated body, Soyinka has Kadmos answer
Agave's question d ire c tly : "He mocked the god Dionysos, spied on h is /
M ysteries." (Compare Euripides: "He meant to je e r a t the god, and
your bacchic r i t e s , by going th e re ." 1292, K irk's tr a n s l a t i o n .)
Kadmos then l i f t s a corner of the b i e r 's cover and t e l l s Agave i t was
she and her s i s t e r s who k ille d Pentheus because they were "possessed."
Soyinka is careful here to make th e d istin c tio n between
"madness" and "possession," though not fo r scholarly reasons. When
Kadmos informs Agave th a t Dionysos drove the whole c ity "mad," he means
th a t the land as a whole was, as Kirk t r a n s l a t e s , "possessed by a
bacchic fren zy ," or more l i t e r a l l y , "made thoroughly bacchic." This
is normal Dionysiac possession and throughout Euripides' te x t the forms
fo r the Greek verb "to madden" are reserved fo r the previously re c a l-
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c i t r a n t Theban women. I t is in th is sense th a t Soyinka's Pentheus
uses the term "madness" during the d ressin g -o f-th e-h ero sequence with
Dionysos:
204
Pentheus: I could h o ist the whole of Kithairon
On one shoulder--w ith valleys fu ll of women
Despite t h e i r dancing and madness. . . . (p. 293)
The Chorus of Slaves never describes i t s e l f by such terms, which i t
reserves fo r "madmen" lik e Pentheus who are rebuked fo r excess:
Bacchante: He is fu ll of the mad wind of rage.
Pentheus, son of Ichion and Agave
I know now you are mad. You have chained
The messenger of god. (p. 271)
In the case of Agave, however, something more d r a s tic is c le a rly
implied. Her "possession" by Dionysos is abnormal, as T ire sia s himself
w ill say in Soyinka's innovative ending:
T ire sia s: 0 Kadmos, i t was a cause beyond madness, th is
S catterin g of his flesh to the seven winds. . . .
(p. 307)
E a rlie r, in describing the tra g ic sparagmos on Mt. K ithairon, the
O fficer had pictu red Agave's condition thus:
O fficer: . . . She foamed a t the mouth, her eyes
Rolled with frenzy. Agave was made, s ta rk mad
Possessed by Bacchus, blind to a ll plea fo r p ity .
(p. 299)
Soyinka has retain ed the c lin ic a l flav o r of the Greek orig in al (1122,
f f . ), one suspects, because of i t s s im ila r ity to c e rta in forms of
modern re lig io u s in s p ir a tio n . Now in the closing verses of the f i f t h
stasimon he w ill swell the re lig io u s f i r e s of Agave's "possession"
with the bellows of serene ecstasy.
Soyinka cuts o ff Euripides' Bacchae a t the point o f Agave's
"recognition." He is thereby able to avoid Cadmus' lament over the
body of Pentheus and Arrowsmith's type of imaginative reconstruction
of the 50 odd lin e s th a t have been lo s t from E uripides' orig in al te x t.
205
43
Also, Soyinka elim inates Dionysus' appearance as deus ex machina to
mete out punishment to the g u ilty , fo recastin g Cadmus' fu tu re wander
ings, e l i c i t i n g Agave's acknowledgment of t h e i r mutual s in , and coldly
re je c tin g Cadmus' plea fo r leniency:
Cadmus: W e implore you, Dionysus. W e have done wrong.
Dionysus: Too l a t e . When th ere was time, you did not know me.
(E uripides, 1344, f f . )
Soyinka's remark in his in tro d u ctio n to the play is illu m inating here:
"The d isru p tiv e challenges to Nature th a t have been l e t loose in the
44
action demand no less" than th a t th is closing scene be excised.
Furthermore, Soyinka is not in te re s te d in having the Dionysian sp ell
broken by an imperious god, nor is he in te re s te d in presenting the god
on the roof in a hurry to depart, as is Euripides:
Dionysus: Why then delay over what is in ev itab le?
(1350, K irk's tra n s la tio n )
E uripides' god has j u s t time to condemn Agave and Cadmus to e x ile
before "changing in to a dreadful lion" of the Homeric hymns, a t once
45
above and below the human l o t . His play, as Kirk w rite s, "ends in
re p e titio u s lamentations and expressions of s e l f - p i t y . L i ttle i s sa id ,
46
and the poetical level is unremarkable." This, again, is p re c ise ly
what Soyinka objects to in his phrase "instances of d is s a tis f a c tio n ."
To Kadmos' re v elatio n th a t i t is she who k ille d Pentheus, Soyinka's
Agave r e p lie s with a so ft sigh: "A-ah." There is no " p e te rin g -o ff of
ecstasy" in to s a n ity , recognition and conversion, as there is in
Euripides. The Dionysian spell is never broken in Soyinka's version.
Agave remains "possessed" by the god; the fin a l understanding of her
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aberrant mind becomes, in Soyinka's words, "an e x te rio riz e d god sub
mission" (p. x i). She turns towards the ladder, a t the top of which
Pentheus' head is impaled, and says, " I t 's time to bring him down,"
Kadmos turns to T iresia s and asks him to console Agave because he "no
longer understand(s) / The ways of god. [He] may blaspheme" (p. 306).
T ire sia s re p lie s th a t "understanding these things is beyond us," and
then launches in to a 15-line homily on th e demands of "our l i f e -
su stain in g earth [for] a more than token o fferin g fo r our own needful
renewal." This explains why the "sc a tte rin g of [Pentheus'] flesh to
the seven winds'* was "a cause beyond madness" (p. 307). The parched
earth needed "the rain / Of blood" to slake i t s t h i r s t and make i t
f e r t i l e again. Kadmos c rie s o ut, "Why us?" and Agave, her hands on
Pentheus' head, about to l i f t i t , says q u ie tly , "Why not?" Her words
are an encho of the Hersman's rh e to ric a l question in the parados♦ To
the Herdsman's question "Why us?" the Slave Leader's reply had been,
"Because the r i t e s bring us nothing! Let those who p r o f i t bear the
burden of the old year dying" (p. 237). Now a t the close of the f i f t h
stasimon Agave has borne the burden o f the old y ear dying through the
death of her son, Pentheus. But her burden has produced a m iracle in
the e n tir e community's recognition of the god's presence.
At th is point in Soyinka's adap tatio n , the theme music of
Dionysos ("Zorbcl the Greek") begins "welling up and f i l l i n g the stage
with the god's presence."
Stage D irections: A powerful red glow shines suddenly as i f
from w ithin the head of Pentheus, rendering
i t near-luminous. The stage is bathed in
i t and, in s ta n tly , from every o r if i c e of the
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impaled head spring red j e t s spurting in
every d ire c tio n . Reactions of horror and
panic, (p. 307)
At the sig h t of the m iracle Agave screams, fla tte n in g h e r s e lf a t the
foot of the ladder beneath the illum inated head o f the god in carn ate.
Agave's a n a g n o risis, though tr a g ic , is not double as i t is in
Euripides: she recognizes the head o f Pentheus, but does not perceive
47
the r e s u lts of the Dionysian r itu a l as murder. Nor, for th a t m atter,
do the Bacchante who remain absorbed in an hypnotic dream-like s ta te .
T ire sia s is the f i r s t to recover:
T ire s ia s: What is i t Kadmos? What is i t ?
Kadmos: Again blood T ire s ia s . Nothing but blood.
T ire sia s: (He fe e ls his way nearer the fount. A spray h its
him and he holds out a hand, catches some of the
f lu id and s n if f s . Tastes i t . ) No. I t ' s wine.
(p. 307)
Soyinka concludes the drama with a Shakespearean-like dumb
show, describing the action in the following manner:
. . . they a ll move towards the fo u n ta in , cup th e ir
hands and drink. Agave ra ise s h e rs e lf a t the l a s t
to observe them, then t i l t s her head backwards to l e t
a j e t flush fu ll in her face and flu sh her mouth. The
li g h t co ntracts to a fin a l glow around the heads of
Pentheus and Agave, (p. 307)
Agave and Kadmos are not condemned to e x ile , as they are in Eruipides,
but are reunited to the god through the fin a l communion r i t e . Mother
and son are " re su rre c te d "—g lo r if ie d , i f you w i l l —as in the C hristian
litu rg y of Easter:
2 M
Prepared for the supper of the Lamb
Radiant in our white robes,
Having passed through the Red Sea,
Let us sing to C hrist the Lord.48
So, in the ending of Soyinka's play, we have a theopha'ny of s o r t s ,
where we do not have i t in the epilogue to E u rip id es 1 The Bacchae.
Heaven and earth have been d e cisiv e ly reu n ited , and there is a
re c o n c ilia tio n of man, nature, and god. Instead of Dionysos, smiling
and awesome on the stage roof, we have a communion r i t e in which the
Bacchantes drink the blood of the god. The Dionysian r itu a l has
reached i t s fu lfillm e n t in the ultim ate conversion of Thebes to the
c u lt of the god. Dionysos, who came to Thebes as a Foreigner, has now
become--through the body and blood o f Pentheus—the god o f re b irth and
renewal, f e r t i l i t y and abundance fo r the "harsh, unyielding so il of
Thebes" (p. 307).
Euripides' play, by c o n tr a s t, "ends with the defeat of order
49
and l i f e by s t e r i l i t y , negation and decay." Here in Soyinka s play,
Kadmos and the f i l i c i d e , Agave, are not stran g ers in the end as they
are in Euripides, but fellow Bacchantes a t the fount of l i f e . The
severed and impaled head of Pentheus, spurting red j e t s of wine in
every d ire c tio n , signals the presence of th e god as life - g iv in g d e ity .
Pentheus' head, covered in triumph with the wig of gold ribbons in
which th e god f i r s t entered Thebes, dominates the scene.
I t is perhaps s ta tin g the obvious to say th a t Soyinka's ending
is also an allegory of C h r is t's c ru c ifix io n scene in the New Testament.
All the elements are there synthesized and f i l t e r e d through the
209}
s ty liz e d Greek myth. One has only to consider the dramatis personae
gathered beneath the ladder and the precise choreography outlined in
Soyinka's stage d ire c tio n s to r e a liz e he intends th is New Testament
symbolism. There are also elements of the C hristian theology surround
ing the Virgin Mary, th a t i s , the Mother of God theme, Mary g lo rifie d
through the su ffe rin g and death of her son. And th is despite Soyinka's
d isclaim er in his in troduction th a t he is c e leb ratin g the God Ogun.
Early on in the f i f t h stasimon (p. 300) one of Soyinka's Bacchantes
c a lls Agave the "Bride of Bromius" (read "Bride of C h rist" ). This
expression is not in Euripides' te x t, where Coryphaeus simply announces
the a rriv a l of Agave fo r the fin a l exodos with the words:
But look: th ere comes Pentheus' mother, Agave,
running wild-eyed toward the palace.
--Welcome,
welcome to the reveling band of the god of joy!
(Euripides, 1165, f . )
And fu rth e r on in Soyinka's play another Bacchante says: "Blessed Agave
th ric e blessed daughter of Kadmos!" (p. 301). Here, too, in the
" th ric e blessed" phrase we hear echoes of C h ristian litu r g y . Euripides
in the same place simply uses the phrase "Happy Agave" (K irk's tr a n s
la tio n ) or "Agave the b le st" (Arrowsmith's tr a n s la tio n , 1181).
F in ally , j u s t before the Maypole dance in Soyinka's play, we hear the
following:
Chrous: W e p raise the blessed Mother, (p. 302)
Again, th ere is no comparable expression in E uripides' drama. In f a c t,
th is whole sectio n has been clev erly rewoven by Soyinka to emphasize
the r i t u a l i s t i c nature of the omophagia as a f e a s t of celeb ratio n in
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honor of the god Dionysos, ra th e r than as a c a n n ib a lis tic orgy.
Consider, by c o n tra s t, Euripides: Agave commands the Chorus:
Partake then of the fe a sti
and the Chorus, qu ite shocked by the suggestion of eating the head of
Pentheus, re p lie s:
What, partake, poor wretch? (1184, f f . , K irk's tra n s la tio n )
Soyinka's tra n s la tio n here, though m ilder, is as paradoxical as a
50
medieval fig u ra ; i t is to be in te rp re te d as fo recastin g the f u l f i l l
ment o f a human moment in a divine pattern :
Agave: All must share in my glory. I summon you
a ll to a f e a s t of c e le b ra tio n .
Old Slave: A f e a s t. . . ? Oh Agave.
Slave Leader: To e a t of t h i s —lio n , Agave? (p. 301)
In view of what follows, i t is obvious th a t Soyinka's meaning l i e s in
the joy of symbolic communion with the god through an in -gathering of
N ature's munificence, namely, wine. And to a modern audience, only
dimly aware of the Dionysian myth anyway, such a meaning/ending makes
sense. I t allows Soyinka to present Dionysos not as a cruel and
vengeful god, estranged from man and nature, but as a redeeming god—
a god o f f e r t i l i t y and the h arv e st, renewing earth and man through
the communion o f his blood.
Conclusion
The cen ter of every work of a r t is simple, Chesterton once
sa id , however much i t s f u lf illm e n t may be complicated. Wole Soyinka--
poet, playwright, e s sa y is t and n o v e list--h a s confirmed th a t tru th in
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his adaptation of E uripides' The Bacchae. Although Soyinka's version
is inexhaustibly inventive, su b tle and w itty , i t is ultim ately shaped
by a few primary convictions th a t are both profound and simple. In
sh o rt, Soyinka sees The Bacchae as "a prodigious, b arb aric banquet,
an in sig h tfu l m anifestation o f the universal need of man to match
him self ag ain st Nature" (In tro d u ctio n , p. x i ). With th is in mind, he
proceeds to press down the surface s tru c tu re o f E uripides' play until
i t s dramatic energy s p i l l s over into "a c eleb ratio n of l i f e , bloody
and tumultuous, an extravagant r i t e of the human psyche 1 . 1 (Intro d u ctio n ,
p. x i).
As "conceived" by Soyinka, The Bacchae of Euripides: A
Communion R ite is more r it u a l than play, a r itu a l th a t I suspect w ill
prove v ir tu a lly incomprehensible to anyone not thoroughly fa m ilia r
with E uripides' play on which i t is based. E uripides' play, however,
is not a r i t u a l . "The Bacchae," Arrowsmith w rite s in the introduction
to his tra n s la tio n (p. 149), "is n e ith e r a study of Dionysiac cultus
nor a cautionary essay on the e ffe c ts of re lig io u s h y s te ria ; nor, for
th a t m atter, however f a i th f u l l y i t may p resent the hieros logos or
Dionysiac r i t u a l , is i t best read as an anthropological passion-play
of the mystical scapegoat of the Year-Daimon." The Dionysiac revels
are merely exploited by Euripides to produce, as Rosenmeyer notes,
"a dramatic action which helps the sp ec ta to rs to consider the mystery
51
and the precariousness of t h e i r own e x iste n c e ." But th e issue of
the play i s , fo r Euripides, a b s tra c t; i t derives from a question which
212
is simple and profound: What is man? As Dionysus remarks to Pentheus
a t the end of the second episode (506):
You do not know what your l i f e is - - n e ith e r what
you are doing nor who you a re . (K irk's tra n s la tio n )
(In Soyinka's rendering the lin e reads, "You do not know the lim its
of your power. ") Euripides takes th is a b s tra c t issu e and co nstructs
a system of personal re la tio n s and responses to dramatize i t . In
other words, he builds the liv e s of his characters in to the issue
making the Dionysiac woriship subject to the rig o rs o f a r t i s t i c con
s tr u c tio n . Obviously, his presen tatio n of the cuftus had to be
modified accordingly. Soyinka, fo r his p a rt, le ts the Dionysiac l i f e
speak fo r i t s e l f by showing the r i t e s y n c re tic a lly through a number
of th e a tr ic a l innovations th a t cut across time and c u ltu re . With
Euripides i t is the ideas th a t count, not the persons nor the words
or sound p a tte rn s, nor the o th er myriad pathologies favored by
c la ssic a l c ritic is m over the c e n tu rie s. And these ideas are presented
iro n ic a lly under an overlay of th e a tr ic a l idioms his f ifth -c e n tu ry
contemporaries would have understood. His Bacchae, fo r in stan ce , are
te x tu a lly chaste, not p r o flig a te ; T ir e s ia s ' d escrip tio n of Dionysiac
worship is an a c h ro n istic , even s ty liz e d . By Euripides' day i t s human
s a c r if ic e s had long since been purged away, " its wildness tamed by
52
being fused with Olympian worship and s e t under s ta te su p erv isio n ."
The Dionysian r itu a l i t s e l f is made in te n tio n a lly iro n ic , p a r tic u la r ly
in the death of Pentheus— "he d ie s ," w rites Arrowsmith, "as a scape-
53
goat and a liv in g s u b s titu te fo r the god he r e j e c t s ." In sum,
213
Euripides' play is a t e r r i b l e indictment of the anthropomorphic
Dionysus, not a c eleb ratio n of his m ysteries.
Soyinka, in my opinion, e ith e r does not understand what
Euripides' play is a ll about, or he d e lib e ra te ly chooses to read i t in
the lig h t of his African experience. I suspect the l a t t e r fo r two
reasons: one is the nature of his dramatic oeuvre. As Professor
Eldred Jones has remarked in his study o f Soyinka's work:
The e s se n tia l ideas which emerge . . . are not
s p e c ia lly African ideas although his ch aracters
and t h e i r mannerisms are African. His concern
is with man on e a rth . Man is dressed fo r the
nonce in African dress and liv e s in the sun and
tro p ic a l f o r e s t, but he represents the whole race.
The d u a lity of man's p e rso n a lity , his simultaneous
capacity fo r creation and destru ctio n which makes
him almost a t every moment a p o tential victim of
his own ingenuity, is a universal t r a i t of homo
sapiens who has been given by his c re a to r the
g i f t of fre e w i l l . 54
The "d u ality of man's perso n ality " is the energizing th e sis of both
Euripides' play and Soyinka's adaptation; the d ifferen ce lie s in each
d ra m a tist's approach to the ro le of the god in solving the puzzle. In
Euripides the ambivalence o f Dionysus is e n lis te d larg ely in order "to
illum ine the ambivalence of human cognition reaching out fo r i t s
55
o b ject, fo r the elu siv e pageant of tr u th ." In Soyinka's Bacchae,
on the other hand, the Yoruba s ty le d ie ty i ^ tru th -in -N a tu re . He
represents the c re a to r, j u s t as Pentheus represents man's need to p i t
himself ag ain st Nature on her "monstrous cycle of reg en era tio n ." The
Dionysiac r itu a l provides the o u tle t for a known tru th (not an
elu siv e pageant of t r u t h ) , namely, man's need to reaffirm his
214
indebtedness to e a rth . Once man involves himself in th is r it u a l
therapy, w rites Soyinka, he is "re-absorbed w ithin the communal
psyche [where] he provokes the resources of Nature; he is in turn
replenished fo r the cy clic drain in his f r a g ile individual potency"
(In tro d u ctio n , p. x i i ) .
The second reason I believe Soyinka has d e lib e ra te ly read his
own ideas into E uripides' drama is revealed by his grasp of some of
the c r i t i c a l l i t e r a t u r e on the play. Consider, fo r in sta n c e , th ree
c r i t i c s with whom he e le c ts to cross swords:
56
1. W . K. C. G uthrie, The Greeks and Their Gods.
I t is a small but s ig n if ic a n t point th a t in a ll
l a t e r s to r ie s of the persecution of Dionysos, the
offending mortal is punished by the god whom he
has wronged and who appears in power and might to
wreak his own vengeance, (p. 165)
Soyinka claims th a t Guthrie has missed "the sig n ific a n c e of th a t social
r e a l i t y from which such l a t e r emendations of [Dionysos] a ro se,"
namely, in the slav e , helot and urban working class populations of
A ttic a . This opinion is the foundation fo r his remark t h a t , "The
Bacchae [is] an a e tio lo g ic a l drama w ithin the social s tru g g le ."
57
2. George Thomson, Aeschylus and Athens.
. . . in the r itu a l of the Orphic brotherhoods . . .
by eating the fle sh and drinking the blood of the
bull Dionysos, men whom the c la s s -s tru g g le had
humbled and oppressed fed on the illu s io n of a
lo s t e q u a lity , (p. 2 1 )
Soyinka o b jects th a t Thomson's claim contains an "unfortunate element
of d is to r tio n " because i t c o n trad icts the p o sitiv e ch aracter of the
native s o li d a r i t y th a t was experienced by the Dionysiac communicants.
Soyinka continues,
215
Where re lig io n became an instrument of e x p lo ita tio n
fo r the a llia n c e of priesthood and n o b ility i t a lso ,
with long delayed j u s t i c e , proved the foundering rock
fo r th e i r m onopolistic stren g th . And th is came about
only when a new and resu rrec te d re lig io n appeared,
th a t n e ith e r fed nor fed on the illu s io n s of the
oppressed. (In tro d u ctio n , p. ix)
This new re lig io n "represented the godhead as inseparable from Nature,"
i t tra n sfe rre d the r itu a l r e s p o n s ib ility fo r land renewal from a small
e l i t e to a downtrodden m inority. Thus, the c u lts and observances of
the vegetation re lig io n s became a social force with in calcu lab le
powers.
3. E. R. Dodds, in his Commentary on The Bacchae, was the
f i r s t to demonstrate d e cisiv e ly the importance o f the Dionysian myth,
p a r tic u la r ly of the sparagmos and the omophagia, fo r th e in te rp re ta io n
of The Bacchae and the bacchants' place in Greek c u ltu re . Although
Soyinka accepts Dodds' th e s is th a t The Bacchae was an h is to r ic a l and
sociological rep resen tatio n of genuine r itu a l and mass psychosis, he
objects to the idea th a t the so c io -re lig io u s strands fused w ithin the
myth were re -to ld "in terms of fifth -c e n tu ry c o n f l i c t s . " This makes
the puzzle concerning Euripides' motives fo r w ritin g the play "largely
a r t i f i c i a l , " he claim s, since Euripides was an acknowledged iconoclast
and a death-bed conversion runs contrary to a life tim e of outspoken
h o s t i l i t y to the Olympian system.
Obviously, Soyinka's po sitio n as d r a m a tis t-tr a n s la to r , v is-a -
vis the sch o larly commentators, puts him squarely on the horns of a
dilemma: how to reconcile "the v isceral q u ality of The Bacchae, i t s
dramatic energy and re lig io u s fe ro c ity ," with an ending th a t f a i l s to
216
f u l f i l l the p la y 's dramatic momentum l e t loose by the Dionysiac
impulse. Agave's e x te rio riz e d god-submission is no so lu tio n a t a l l ,
according to Soyinka. As a re so lu tio n to the p la y 's ritu a lis m , i t
represents merely "the petering o ff of ecstasy into a suggestion of
another play." Or, to c i t e one of Soyinka's more pretentious s t a t e
ments, "I consider "The Bacchae" a very uneven and, in many ways,
ra th e r a crude play. I come to i t as a c r a f ts m a n ." ^
The new reso lu tio n Soyinka has chosen involves the symbolic
extension of what he perceives to be the drama's ritu a l powers, "but
only such as we have encountered with the Bacchantes on the mountain
side" (In tro d u ctio n , p. x i ) . The action of the drama demands no le s s ,
he says, because N ature's d isru p tiv e challenges have been released:
Agave's fin a l understanding is . . . f a r more
fundamentally a recognition and acceptance of
those cosmic forces fo r which the chorus (the
communal t o t a l i t y ) is custodian and vessel in
the potency of r itu a l enactment. (In tro d u ctio n , p. x i )
This ra tio n a le not only accounts fo r Soyinka's innovative ending, but
also for the sp ectacu lar in te rlu d e s , flashbacks, maypole dances, dumb-
shows and Hollywood-style stage e f f e c t s - - a l l of which enhance the
emotional p resen tatio n of the Dionysiac impulse and build-up to the
mass psychic frenzy a t the end.
But, does i t work th e a tr ic a lly ? In the West apparently not.
The Bacchae of Euripides was o rig in a lly commissioned from Soyinka by
the National Theatre of Great B ritain and performed by them in 1973.
The production, d irected by Roland J o f f r e , met a poor c r i t i c a l r e
sponse, and was not kept in the re p e rto ire . The c r i t i c s generally
________ 217
found the rhythms of the play " f a ta lly confused." And th is fo r the
very reason th a t forms Soyinka's theory of composition, namely, cross-
cu ltu ra l syncretism. The adaptation is m anifestly a metamorphosis of
themes, s tr u c tu r e s , ch a ra c te rs, and s ta g e c ra ft. Everything in
Euripides' play reminds Soyinka of something else : of man's r e l a t io n
ship with his god; of man's re la tio n s h ip with his fellow man; of his
re la tio n s h ip with the h is to ric a l canvas of broken p h ra te rie s , wars,
labor m igrations; the coalescence of d iff e r e n t customs and re lig io u s
b e lie f s . Such a play could not help but f a ll between the Scylla of
African experience and the Charybdis of tr a d it i o n a l Western th e a tre .
Although the London c r i t i c s g en erally admitted th a t the
adaptation had "moments of fin e and ex citin g w riting and a c tio n ," they
compared these with other moments where, they f e l t , "the w ritin g is
59
th in ly stre tc h e d and rears emptily over the sta g e ." B a sic a lly , they
fa u lte d the a d a p ta tio n 's stage production with inconsistency o f s ty le .
This may have been due more to the stage sp ectacle as re a liz e d by
Joffre--Hollywood extravaganza--than to the adaptation per se. I say
th is because my own reading of the play leads me to believe th a t
Soyinka, fo r the most p a r t, does not s a c r i f i c e sense to sp ectacle,
ideas to e f f e c t, as did Andrei Serban in his 1977 staging of the
Agamemnon.
This judgment ra ise s the problem th a t faces any d ra m a tist—
African or European—who chooses to root around in the th e a tr ic a l
mausoleums of Greek playw rights. While i t is tru e th a t these
dramatic tombs contain tre a su re s, they are stacked with the dusty
218
r e lic s th a t a museum cu rato r could conceivably label Homo t h e a t r a l i s ,
e x tin c t since some time before the Age of Aquarius when the th e a tre -
going public knew the Greek d ram atists. A daptations-cum -translations
date f a s te r than o riginal plays, and i f one p i l f e r s the formulas of
the p ast, as Soyinka has done in his Bacchae, one has to find a fo ssil
audience to match. Soyinka has ransacked E uripides' orig in al drama
and s e t up house (very s ty lis h ly ) in the ruins of Semele's tomb. His
Bacchae is outrageous, I suppose: the kind of outrage th a t only a
strong w rite r can commit. In the final a n a ly sis, i t is q u ite possible
th a t Soyinka's adaptation o f The Bacchae o f Euripides can only be
appreciated on u n iv e rsity campuses, or a t in te rn a tio n a l drama f e s tiv a ls ,
where the p la y 's rhythms, both verbal and v isu a l, are more e a s ily
to le ra te d when counterpoised ag ain st the a c tio n , chant and dance of
Greek drama.
219.
CHAPTER I II FOOTNOTES
All quotations from Soyinka's The Bacchae of Euripides: A
Communion Rite are from his adaptation in Wole Soyinka: Collected
Plays 1 (London: Oxford U niversity Press, 1973). Ib id . , p. 234.
2
Two autobiographical sketches by Black American w rite rs
portray th is phenomenon. See: Langston Hughes, "S alvation," from
The Big Sea, in The Langston Hughes Reader (New York: George B ra z ille r,
I n c ., 1971), pp. 327-329; and James Baldwin, "The Outing," in
Comparisons: A Short Story Anthology, Nicholaus M ills, ed. (New York:
McGraw-Hill, 1974), pp. 26-31.
3
Thomas G. Rosenmeyer, "Tragedy and Religion: The Bacchae,"
in Erich Segal (e d .), Euripides: A C ollection of C ritic a l Essays
(Englewood C lif f s , N .J.: P re n tic e -H a ll, I n c .) , pp. 156-157.
4
All quotations from The Bacchae, unless otherwise in d icated ,
are given in the tra n s la tio n by William Arrowsmith from The Complete
Greek Tragedies, Euripides V, ed. David Grene and Richard Lattimore
(New York: Washington Square Press, 1972).
Wole Soyinka, Indanre and Other Poems (London: Eyre Methuen &
Co., L td ., 1974).
^Geoffrey S. Kirk, The Bacchae by Euripides: A tra n s la tio n
with commentary (Englewood C li f f s , N .J.: P rentice Hall, 1970), p. 82,
note to 1. 693.
^Eldred Durosimi Jones, The Writing of Wole Soyinka (London:
Heinemann Educational Books, L t d ., 1973), p. 5.
^Jan Kott, "The Bacchae," in The Eating of the Gods (New York:
Vintage Press, 1974), p. 191.
g
Soyinka, "Introduction" to The Bacchae of E uripides, p. v i i i .
1 0 Kirk, p. 32.
B. L. Webster, Greek Art and L ite ra tu re 700-530 B.C.
(New York: Ryerson Press, 1959), p. 6 6 .
220
12
Jean Genet, The Blacks: A Clown Show (New York: Grove Press,
In c ., I960), p. 3.
13
In the C h ristian litu rg y for the E aster Vigil serv ice, there
is a passage of p ra ise for bees who have given the wax for the paschal
candle: "For i t is nourished by the melting wax, which the parent bee
produced fo r the substance of th is precious lamp." See D orn Gaspar
Lefebvre, 0. S. B. ( e d .) , S aint Andrew Daily Missal (St. Paul, Minn.:
Lohmann Co., 1940), p. 307.
14
Jones, p. 145.
15
Kott, in a note to his essay on "The Bacchae," makes the
following observation (p. 320): "On the Nysa mountain, nymphs fed the
saved Dionysus with honey, fo r which Zeus l a t e r turned them into the
Hyades c o n s te lla tio n . In the apocalypse of The Bacchae, honey tr ic k le s
from the th y r s i."
1 fi
Rosenmeyer, p. 167.
^ K ir k , p. 45.
18
Arrowsmith, p. 151.
19
Arrowsmith, p. 150.
20
Rosenmeyer, p. 155.
21
Soyinka, Intro d u ctio n , p. x i i .
??
Kott, p. 200.
23
Mircea Eliade, Myths, Dreams, and M ysteries, tra n s la te d by
P hilip Mairet (New York: Harper, I960), p. 80.
24
Euripides uses extended passages of stichom ythia, as for
example between Dionysus and Pentheus a t lin e s 463-508, "to provide
a p re c ise , formal, and forceful confrontation between two opposed
points of view" (Kirk, p. 46). Soyinka uses the dance steps as a
s u b s titu te fo r the Greek tra g ic convention.
221
25
Frantz Fanon, Peau Noire, Masques Blancs, Editions de S eu il,
1952—tra n s . Black Skin, White Masks by Charles Lam Markmann (New York:
Grove Press, In c ., 1967), p. 85 e t passim.
^W ole Soyinka, "The Fourth Stage," in Myth, L ite ra tu re and
the African World (Cambridge: Cambridge U niversity Press, 1976), p.
156.
27
Euripides' version of Dionysus' escape is no less sensational,
d esp ite what must have been ra th e r s lig h t scenic e f fe c ts . Dionysus
plays an a ctiv e ro le in the palace m irac le s, but his divine voice
sounds o ff-sta g e as i f in answer to the Chorus' pleas fo r his aid and
presence in Thebes. He c a lls on the s p i r i t of earthquake to shake
Pentheus' palace:
Heave the w orld's flo o r, you s p i r i t of Earthquake!
and then summons f i r e and flames:
Launch the glazing thunderbolt of go! 0 lig h tn in g s,
come! Consume with flame the palace of Pentheus! (594, f . )
The function of Euripides' two semi-choruses is merely to re a c t in
a t e r r i f i e d way to the m iracles in re p o rto ria l s ty le before Dionysus
makes his actual appearance disguised as the Chorus' human leader.
28
By "apocalypse" I mean the prophetic rev elatio n of the New
Testament, a world in which a ll human forces are id e n tifie d . The
English poet, Blake, describes th is apocalypse a t the end of his
Jerusalem :
All Human Forms id e n tifie d even Tree Metal Earth
& Stone. All Human Forms id e n tif ie d , liv in g going
fo rth & returning wearied Into the Planetary liv es
of Years Months Days & Hours reposing. And then
awaking into his Bosom in the Life of Immortality.
(William Blake, "Jerusalem," in The Poetry and Prose of William Blake,
David V. Erdman, ed. (New York: Doubleday & Co., 1965), p. 256.
Northrop Frye in his comments on Blake's apocalyptic world elaborates:
. . . a l l forms are id e n tifie d as human. C ities
and gardens, sun, moon, and s t a r s , riv e rs and stones,
tre e s and human b o d ie s--a ll are equally a liv e ,
equally p arts of the same i n f i n i t e body which is a t
once the body of God and of risen man. In th is world
222
"Each Id e n tity is E te rn a l," fo r "In Eternity
one Thing never Changes in to another Thing."
Northrop Frye, "Blake A fter Two C enturies," in Fables of Id e n tity :
Studies in Poetic Mythology (New York: Harcourt, 1963), p. 143.
29
Soyinka, Introduction to The Bacchae of E uripides, p. v i.
30c • ,
Soyinka, p. v i .
31
At i t s broadest, "necessity" is roughly tra n s la ta b le by the
English concept of "necessitous power." For a complete discussion of
Euripides' concept of "n ecessity ," see Arrowsmith, pp. 155-156.
3?
Herodotus, Book VI, 128-129, tra n s la te d by A. D. Godley
(Loeb C lassical Library. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard U niversity Press,
1953), pp. 283-285.
33
In th is ta le the main ch ara c te r, Parson Hooper, covers his
face with a black v e il, as a symbol of s e c re t sorrow and s in . "What
m ortal," he asks, "might not do the same?" The emblem, separating him
from frien d s and from happiness, is not removed even a t his death.
34
0. B. Hardison, J r . , C h ristian Rite and C hristian Drama in
the Middle Ages: Essays in the Origin and Early History of Modern
Drama (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins U niversity Press, 1965), p. 252.
35
C. G. Jung, The Origins of European Thought (New York:
Cambridge U niversity P ress, 1951), p. 203.
Soyinka, In tro d u ctio n , p. v i i i .
37
I am thinking here of the mock sig n ifican ce Chaucer attach es
to each of C h a n te d e e r's actions in The Nun's P r i e s t 's T a le . Borrow
ing Homer's rh eto rical technique, Chaucer persuades the reader th a t
C h an ted e er is the best ro o ste r th a t ever liv e d , so th a t h is death
amid the te e th of Dan R u s s e l--if i t had occurred--could have provided
a tra g ic episode every b i t as s ig n if ic a n t to mankind as the death of
Hector. Unfortunately, the mock sig n ific a n c e Dionysos attach es to
Pentheus' costume turns out to be a ll too tra g ic .
38
Rosenmeyer, p. 169.
39
Soyinka, Introduction, p. x i .
223
40Kott, p. 191.
4*Kirk, note to lin e 1185, p. 122.
42Kirk, p. 129.
43
In Euripides' Bacchae, the deus ex machina wrenches the
action from i t s logical development, as in the Orestes a lso . Kirk,
p. 134, in his commentary to 1. 1329 f. w rite s,
This is not* of course, due to dramaturgical inadequacy,
an in a b ility to resolve the action in any o th er way, but
ra th e r to the f a c t th a t the underlying myth usually did
give the u ltim ate decision to a god, and Euripides was
curiously fa ith fu l to c e rta in aspects of the myth. Of
course he developed the device fo r his own special
purposes, and p a r tic u la r ly , in plays lik e Hippolytus
or Ion, to give additional complexity to the ambiguous
ro le o f the god or goddess; so too with Dionysus here.
44
Soyinka, In tro d u c tio n , p. x i .
45
Kott, p. 221.
4^Kirk, p. 137, commentary to 1. 1352.
^ “A r i s t o t l e 's well-known term fo r the 're c o g n itio n ,' whether
of the tru e s itu a tio n or of an actual person, which he thought
e sse n tia l in a good tragedy." Kirk, p. 127.
4% . B. Hardison, p. 95.
4Q
Kott, p. 222.
50
I am re fe rrin g here to the hymns of Venantius Fortunatus,
Vexilla regis prodeunt, Salve, f e s ta d i e s , and the Pange, lin g u a .
Life in spring is seen as an expression of the divine re b irth a t
Easter. See P eter Dronke, The Medieval Lyric (New York: Harper & Row,
Perennial Library, 1968), pp. 34 f f .
51
Rosenmeyer, p. 151.
224
w ?
Arrowsmith, p. 149.
53
Arrowsmith, p. 150.
54
Jones, p. 11.
55
Rosenmeyer, p. 155.
56W . K. C. G uthrie, The Greeks and Their Gods (Boston: Beacon
Press, 1954), p. 165.
57
George Thomson, Aeschylus and Athens: A Study of the Social
Origins of Drama (New York! Haski11 House P ublishers, L td., 1967),
p. 21.
58
Karen L. Morel1, e d ., In Person: Achebe, Awoonor, and
Soyinka a t the U niversity of Washington (S e a ttle : African Studies
Program P u b licatio n s, 1975), p. 102.
59
Martin Banham, with Clive Wake, African Theatre Today
(London, U.K.: Pitman Publishing, L td ., 1976), p. 35. The h isto ry
of reviews of Soyinka's plays in London can be summarized in one word,
"in a c c e ssib le ." In th is re sp e c t, Penelope G i l l i a t t 's review of The
Road, d ire cted by David Thompson a t Theatre Royal, S tra tfo rd East,
London, is ty p ic a l. See Penelope G i l l i a t t , "A Nigerian O rig in a l," in
The Observer, September 19, 1965, p. 25, cols. 1-4.
225
CHAPTER IV
CONCLUSIONS
In th is study I have attempted to demonstrate the degree to
which an elected number of d ram atists—th a t i s , dram atists whose
adaptation of s p e c ific Western predecessors is q u ite c le a r —expropriate
Western themes, techniques, and drama tr a d itio n s in order to present
th e i r own views of t h e i r own so cie ty . M y i n t e r e s t was i n i t i a l l y
sparked by the conviction th a t the e sta b lish ed c r i t i c s of African drama
have done l i t t l e , i f anything, to illum inate the p a r tic u la r issues
which I have developed here, issues which go beyond the fa m ilia r
boundaries of European languages and c u ltu re s and touch upon the
playw rights' special non-Western adaptations of Western forms. This is
why I have concentrated upon the nuances of the textual m aterials in an
e f f o r t to respond to my own imaginative re la tio n s h ip with these dramas,
and in the process place the importance of the Eurocentric c r i t i c s in
proper perspective.
There remain but two issues th a t need to be addressed. The
f i r s t , on which I have already touched b r ie f ly , is why Soyinka, Clark
and Sutherland, w ritin g in English and coming from d iff e r e n t language
backgrounds, have chosen the Greek d ram atists—and Euripides in
p a r tic u la r —as t h e i r model. The second p o in t, which follows n a tu ra lly
226
a f t e r what I have said in c ritic is m of "alien" c r i ti c a l approaches to
African drama, is what general lessons can be extrapolated from my
reading of the four d ram atists—a-propos the evaluation of and/or the
a e s th e tic s of th is kind of African drama. Both issues are i n t e r
re la te d because they point up the uniqueness of the individual work of
a r t which can be f u lly appreciated only when we know something of the
tra d itio n s and conventions th a t have been accepted or modified to
conform to cu ltu ra l points of view fa r removed in time and tr a d itio n
from the o rig in al model.
Why Euripides?
The phenomenon of the dram atist returning to Greece fo r
in s p ira tio n is not new. "We always retu rn to Greece," says Werner
Jaeger, in his P a id e ia , "because i t f u l f i l l s some need in our l i f e .
Other nations made gods, kings, s p i r i t s ; the Greeks alone made men."1
So i t is th a t an almost comprehensive l i s t of major tw entieth-century
dram atists have f e l t compelled, a t one time or another, to r i f l e and
represent Greek tragedy as containing statem ents of relevance even
2
to post-Marxian tim es. But the issue here is not simply the r i f l i n g
of Greek tragedy fo r characters and s itu a tio n s or "statements of
relevance." Rather, i t is the adoption o f a p a r tic u la r Greek play
wright whose sp a tia l vision of th e a tre is clo se r to what Soyinka c a lls
"the f lu id approach of African th e a tre " than is th a t of e ith e r
Aeschylus or Sophocles. And in the portrayal of dramatic c h aracter,
i t is well to re c a ll A r i s t o t l e 's remark th a t "Sophocles drew men as
they ought to be; Euripides, as they were."
i
___________________________________________________ 227
Unlike A r is to tle , however, who used Oedipus Rex fo r his theory
of tragedy, these African dram atists choose the plays of Euripides "as
p attern s of the tra g ic form." This is because t h e i r a t t i t u d e to the
Greek r itu a l forms is lik e Euripides' own: they respond to t h e i r purely
th e a tr ic a l e ffe c tiv e n e ss; b u t, unlike Euripides--"who apparently h&d no
in t e r e s t or b e lie f in the preratio n al image of human nature and destiny
3
which the r itu a l conveyed" --th e se African playwrights feel the ritu a l
form and i t s s p ir itu a l content is s t i l l a liv e and s ig n if ic a n t in terms
of t h e i r own c u ltu re . In other words, the r itu a l forms are not
ab stra c tio n s fo r the African dram atists as they were for G ilb ert Murray
and Euripides, fo r Cocteau and Giradoux. On the con trary , the
African dram atists feel th a t the tra g ic rhythm of a c tio n , discerned
in myth and underlying the forms of r i t u a l , is "a deeper version of
human l i f e than any p a r tic u la r m anifestation of i t or any conceptual
understanding of i t , whether s c i e n t i f i c and r a t i o n a l i s t i c , or
4
th e o lo g ic a l." In s h o rt, the basis of Euripides' dramaturgy—his use
of myth and r itu a l for s a t i r i c a l exposition--provides the African
dram atists with the p e rfe c t springboard fo r t h e i r leap in to Soyinka's
"symbolic arena fo r metaphysical c o n te s ts ."
Another reason why Euripides seems to appeal to the African
dram atist is his use of irony as a method of dramatic w ritin g . Irony
am plifies and deepens the meaning of a work, but i t is up to the
audience to p en etrate th is meaning or take the words a t t h e i r face
value. The several lev els of comprehension which iro n ic w riting
esta b lish e s become accessib le to and are p a ra lle le d by whatever world
228
the audience in h a b its, with i t s own laws, norms, and values. The
universe of Euripides' A lc e s tis , fo r in stan ce, is wrapped in an
hermetic envelope of forces or being; so are the haunting dramatic
h ab itatio n s o f John Pepper Clark, Efua Sutherland, and Wole Soyinka.
To pen etrate these worlds one must not only e n ter the "m atrical con
sciousness of the African world" but also contend with the iro n ie s /
paradoxes which Soyinka re fe rs to as the "metaphysics of the i r r e
ducible: knowledge of b irth and death as the human cycle; the wind
as a moving, f e l li n g , cleansing, destroying, winnowing force; the
d u ality of the knife as blood-1e t t e r and c re a tiv e implement; earth
5
and sun as life - s u s ta in in g v e r i t i e s , and so on." When th i s irony,
however, tra v e rse s the hermetic spheres o f i t s existence w ithin a
c u ltu re —where a ll tra g ic action is unravelled—i t becomes impervious
to the accident of place and time; i t takes on lev els of meaning which
go beyond u n ila te ra l in te rp r e ta tio n . Fergusson proposes the view th a t
"Racine and Wagner can only be understood with reference to Sophocles,
C
ra th e r than the oth er way round." M y own contention is th a t Soyinka,
Clark and Sutherland are b e tte r understood by using Euripides as a
c ro ss-c u ltu ra l touchstone ra th e r than simply as a p lo t source. This
is not to say th a t these African dram atists do not possess what
Soyinka lab els a "cohesive in te rio r ! t y . " They do because t h e i r plays
are "endowed with s ig n if ic a n t meanings, social and myth r e f e r e n tia l." ^
This is the p re re q u is ite of a ll profound drama, and tragedy most
s p e c if ic a lly . Thus, i t is not merely a case of comparing plays, for
the dramas themselves abound in co ntradictory characters and
229
s itu a tio n s . Each of the African plays, lik e those of Euripides, seems
to be asking a question or e lse boldly s ta tin g some mythical and/or
visual paradox.
To re c a ll a few concrete examples: The Bacchae, the l a s t play
w ritte n in Macedonia by Euripides, r e f le c ts an irony most obvious to
a ll but the victim Pentheus. Dionysius te a rs down the palace of
Pentheus, before, in f a c t, he d ila c e ra te s the king him self. Iron
ic a l l y , th is ultim ate d estru ctio n of man's dig n ity ( i f not man
him self), evinces th a t Pentheus is king n e ith e r over his house nor
over his mind. Greek drama, Herodotus t e l l s us, began with the
su fferin g of Dionysius fo r humanity. But in The Bacchae humanity
su ffe rs fo r Dionysius who is a t once a god most benign and most
g
h o rrib le . In Soyinka's adaptation of The Bacchae, as I have pointed
out, Pentheus indeed su ffers a t the hands of Dionysius, but he is
redeemed in the end, not merely punished fo r blaspheming the god.
There is no transformed animal-god on the roof in an unseemly hurry
to depart:
Why then delay? /For you must go. (E uripides, 1350)
Agave and Kadmos are not condemned to e x ile , in Soyinka's adaptation,
but are reunited with the god through a fin a l communion r i t e . The
signs and s tru c tu re of the r itu a l have been reversed. Instead of
going from gaudium to t r i s t i a , as in Euripides' play, Soyinka sub
s t i t u t e s a theophany as in the Dionysian r it u a l i t s e l f and in the
9
C hristian Easter r i t e . God has not departed but remains in the form
of a g lo r if ie d Pentheus to f r u c tif y the earth through wine, the
230
symbol of his blood. Thebes is not empty but is peopled with the
people of god drinking his blood. Heaven and earth have been de
c is iv e ly reunited, and there is a re c o n c ilia tio n of man, nature and god.
In the A lc e s tis , to c i t e a second example, Euripides presented
a s e lf - s a c r if ic in g woman who dies v o lu n ta rily , out of family lo y a lty ,
but who goes t £ her tomb and then back to her wedding chamber. This
life -in -d e a th paradox, along with the other culture-bound m otifs,
appears in Sutherland's Edufa but with th is differen ce: in Euripides'
play one is conscious of A lc e s tis ' deep love fo r Admetus, a royal and
honest husband, always kind to his slaves and undeserving o f the early
death the Fates have decreed. His g r ie f is genuine and helps to
m itigate his se lfish n e ss in allowing his wife to die fo r him. In
S utherland's play one sees a cheating, m a te r ia lis tic husband, Edufa,
w illin g to have dubious dealings with supernatural powers in order to
su stain his l i f e . His good and doting w ife, Ampoma, becomes a victim
of his scheming ra th e r than an e n tire ly w illin g surro g ate. Thus,
Euripides' original cynicism has been given "a b r u t a l , but logical
extension" in a modern African s e t t i n g . 10
F in ally , in th is context of mythical and visual paradox, we
have John Pepper C lark's play, Song of a Goat, which ta lk s around the
Euripidean in cest/escape theme. His play, as I have shown, assumes a
symphonic s tru c tu re which a t once combines the European notion o f fate
with the Ijaw concept of impotence. Z ifa 's in a b i l i t y to produce
offspring leads to an a n tiso c ia l act: his w ife, Ebiere, sleeps with his
brother out of sexual f ru s tra tio n ra th e r than in compliance with the
231
tra d itio n a l advice o f the Masseur, a tr ib a l doctor-cum-seer. The
eventual consummation of the a c t, fo r the wrong reason, epitomizes
"a breakdown in moral order [which] im plies, in the African world-view,
a rupture in the body o f Nature j u s t lik e the physical malfunctioning
of one man."** The house of Zifa f a l ls and, as the prophetess,
Orukorere, laments, no toem is " l e f t now / For the tr ib e to hold on to
fo r support" (p. 119).
This is q u ite a d iff e r e n t conception of the nature of i n t e r
family g u ilt/tra g e d y expressed by Euripides in Hippolytus, where the
in c e s t theme--Phaedra f a l l s in love with her stepson, Hippolytus— is
trig g ered not by Hippolytus' pride in his c h a s tity , but by the love/
revenge motive of the goddess Aphrodite. By making Aphrodite the
in s tig a to r o f Phaedra's passion for Hippolytus, Euripides has
tra n sfe rre d to ta l resp o n sib i1ity to the goddess. Phaedra becomes an
unwilling instrum ent of Aphrodite's revenge. Artemis in the l a s t
scene ( Exodus, 1283-1466) promises to get revenge on Aphrodite, thus
returning the co n test to the two primal forces which motivate most of
the action w ithin the play i t s e l f , namely, nomos (law) and physis
(n atu re). I t is c le a r , as Hegal wrote, " th a t the gods are not to be
t r i f l e d w ith; only a t Olympus, in the heaven of fantasy and relig io u s
imagination do they remain in b lis s fu l peace and u n ity, but now they
re a lly e n te r l i f e , as a definable p attern of human in d iv id u a lity , and
through th e ir very d e f in ite p a r tic u la r ity and mutual antagonism lead
12
to g u ilt and law lessness."
232
What we get in H ippolytus, th e re fo re , is not "the visceral
intertw ining of each individual with the fa te of the e n tire com-
13
munity," as in Song of a Goat, but a th e o re tic a l argument between
the p a rtisan s of nomos and those of p h y sis. Hippolytus' long tira d e
in the Second Episode ag ain st women is the d ire c t opposite of Z ifa 's
problem. Hippolytus says th a t an a f f a i r with Phaedra would be an o u t
rage on his f a th e r 's honor. This Hellenic deviation from harmonious
conduct, thought n e ith e r d esirab le nor condoned, is a f a r less
dangerous th re a t to communal well-being than the se lf-d e lu sio n and
s t e r i l e pride of Zifa in C lark's play. The rupture in Z ifa 's normal
functioning not only endangers his shared re s p o n s ib ility fo r the fa te
of the conranunity but threatens existence i t s e l f . Thus, the profound
tra g ic irony of C lark's Song of a Goat as compared with Euripides'
play: i t is comprehensible only inside a framework of fundamental,
irre d u c ib le m atrices "within which mores, personal r e la tio n s h ip s ,
even communal economics are formulated and reviewed. " * 4
The th ird and fin a l reason fo r the Euripidean connection has
to do with the c r i s i s of c u ltu ra l d isin te g ra tio n . Euripides recorded
in his dramas the death in the l a s t h a lf of the f i f t h century B.C. of
the old Greek c u ltu re . What Euripides reported, according to William
Arrowsmith, was
the widening g u lf between r e a l i t y and tr a d itio n ;
between the operative and professed values of his
c u ltu re ; between fa c t and inyth; between nomos and
p h y sis; between l i f e and a r t . That g u lf was the
g re a te s t and most evident r e a l i ty of the l a s t h alf
o f the f i f t h century, the dramatic subject par
excellence. . . .15
233
In th is chaos of cu ltu re the wholeness of the old Sophoclean hero
became impossible to portray on the stag e , so he was represented
d iv is iv e ly , diffused over several c h a ra c te rs, each functioning "lik e
obsessional fragments of a whole human so u l." Plays once dominated
by a sin g le hero, as in Sophocles' Oedipus or Ajax, now witnessed a
fragmentation of major c h aracters. Antagonists are paired by Euripides
(Admetus and A lc e s tis , Hippolytus and Phaedra, Pentheus and Dionysius,
e t c .) and th is p airing represents "both the warring modes o f a divided
cu ltu re and the incompleteness of the human psyche." Sometimes, as in
the Bacchae, the antagonists embody the p rin c ip les of c o n flic tin g
ideas: Pentheus as nomos (custom, tr a d itio n and law), Dionysius as
physis ( n a tu re ) .
The convulsion of la te f i f t h century Greece produced not only
a d is p a rity between c u ltu re and the individual but also a psycho
logical s tr a i n which immoralizes or d is to r ts the characters of
Euripides' plays. Arrowsmith describes the tension in the following
manner:
The very s tr a in th a t Euripides succeeds in imposing
upon his characters is the mark o f . . . th e ir in
volvement in a cu ltu re under sim ila r s tr a in . And i t
is the previously unsuspected range o f the human
psyche, the discovery of i t s powers, i t s v u ln e ra b ility
to circumstance, i t s incompleteness, and i t s violence,
th a t in t e r e s t Euripides, not the psychological process
i t s e l f . The soliloquy in which Medea meditates the
murder of her children is much admired; but Euripides'
dramatic in t e r e s t is in the collapse or derangement of
c u ltu re —the gap between eros and sophia—th a t makes
the murder both p ossible and necessary.16
I t does not take a g reat leap of imagination to see why such concerns
would appeal to African dram atists whose cu ltu re i s , a t the present
234
time, undergoing sim ila r s t r a i n s . Like Euripides, these dram atists
have trouble reconciling physis and nomos, myth and modern behavior.
By th is I mean th a t i f a myth is boldly tra n sp la te d from i t s native
c u ltu re to a d if f e r e n t one, then the characters of the myth must bear
the burden of the tra n sp la n ta tio n and th a t burden is psychological
s tr a in . I t is fo r th is reason th a t these African dram atists can no
longer hold out the old, t r a d itio n a lly African image of man; they
p refer to base th e ir th e a tre on what they a c tu a lly see as the prime
r e a l i ty of th e ir time: the new emerging African psyche, te ste d and
defined by the myriad p o litic a l and cu ltu ra l c rise s of developing
nations, and th e apparently uncontrollable chaos of human behavior
th a t re s u lts therefrom. Such turbulence, which any viable culture
must know how to contain without rep ressin g , is what the African
dram atists see expressed in the assumptions of Euripides' th e a tre
and his dramatic hypotheses. In sh o rt, i t is his radical c ritiq u e
of c r i s i s in c u ltu re th a t they respond to and his attempt to
cre a te "a wholly new th e a te r , uneasily based upon the forms and
conventions of the old Sophoclean/Aeschylean drama. ^
The so cio -c u ltu ra l connection here i s , I believ e, both im
po rtan t and neglected, important because i t touches the a e s th e tic
dimension; neglected because few l i t e r a r y men are w illin g to consider
the re la tio n sh ip between African th e a tre as dramatic a r t and th a t same
th e a tre as "the synthesis of conventions and forms which are them
selves examples of the social experience and cu ltu ra l tr a d itio n s which
18
they rep resen t." Furthermore, th ere seems to be among A frican ists a
235
studied avoidance of the Greek th e a tre -o f-id e a s from Aeschylus to
Euripides, due, in p a rt, to the misguided notion th a t to delve too
deeply in to the Eurocentric precedents fo r African drama would somehow
d e tra c t from the o r ig in a lity of these dramas. M y reply to th is
c r i t i c a l stance is th a t those who deny the African dram atist any ideas
outside his own c u ltu ra l ambience c le a rly involve the dram atist in
th e ir own d u lln ess. This kind of a ttitu d e leads in ev itab ly to the
submersion of the dramatic work beneath the c r i t i c ' s preferences and
prejudices in diverse areas which may be foreign to the drama as a r t .
I t is also a v e ile d —some would say "h y p o critical"--d en ial of the
essen tial com plexities of th is kind of th e a tre and the sig n ifican ce
and achievement of those playwrights who do not f i t e a s ily in to the
Western l i t e r a r y mold. Evaluation, then, becomes a m atter of what
Ezekiel Mphahlele c a lls "p re sc rip tiv e posturing" ra th e r than informed
judgment based on the nature and function of dramatic a r t across
c u ltu re s.
The Evaluative Dimension
There are th ree p rin c ip les which I believe are cardinal to the
a r t i s t i c evaluation of African drama based on Western m a te ria ls. These
p rin c ip les are d eriv a tiv e of the caveats of T. S. E lio t, who pointed
out th a t "comparison and analysis are the c h ie f tools of the c r i t i c "
and th a t the values used in c r i ti c i z i n g l i t e r a t u r e are not iso la te d
from the l i t e r a t u r e i t s e l f ; and Ezra Pound, who declared th a t good
19
c ritic is m is predicated on knowing what has been done in the a r ts .
I am using these two Western, com paratist c r i t i c s as anchors to
236
underscore the fa c t th a t the basic to o ls for evaluating African
l i t e r a t u r e s —and the drama more p ertin e n tly --h av e been av a ila b le to
p rac tic in g A frican ists fo r a t le a s t th ree generations.
E lio t's general norms fo r c r i ti c i z i n g l i t e r a t u r e can be r e c a s t,
fo r our purposes, as three s p e c ific a r t i s t i c p rin c ip les with super
venient c o ro lla rie s :
1. Judgments about African drama based on European m aterials are
arriv ed a t by system atic, c ro ss-c u ltu ra l comparison and
and a n aly sis.
a. The dramatic work must be placed within the l i t e r a r y
tr a d itio n s of the borrowed language (English, French,
e t c . ) , and the African tra d itio n s o f oral l i t e r a t u r e ,
communal r i t u a l , and folk drama.
b. Such drama requires a fa m ilia rity with the orig in al
configuration of cu ltu ra l conventions employed not only
by the African playwright but by his Western dramatic
antecedents as wel1 .
2. Western generic d e fin itio n s --tra g e d y , comedy, melodrama--are
not n ecessarily applicable to African drama.
a. Generic d e fin itio n s must be f il t e r e d through the patina of
cu ltu re ; otherw ise, the m atter and form of African drama
becomes disto red by way of p rescrip tio n and omission.
b. Western genres may be confused by the a b i l i t y o f the
African th e a tre to accommodate tragedy and comedy
together without destroying the in te g rity of e ith e r .
237
3. African drama must be judged on i t s own m e rits, f i r s t and
always on i t s d ra m a tic /lite ra ry m erits, on i t s anthropological,
h is to ric a l and philosophical m erits when the subject m atter
warrants i t .
a. The stu d ies of h is to ria n s , lin g u i s t s , and anthropologists
are u sefu l, for they help to fre e the c r i t i c from Western-
oriented habits of mind; and they provide a way of
correcting and amplifying d ire c t impressions.
b. Such s tu d ie s , however, also have a way of focusing the
the c r i t i c ' s a tte n tio n on arcane m atters which are often
outside the l i f e and form of the play i t s e l f .
c. The te x t, i t s nuances, and i t s th e a tric a l projection must
be the prime consideration in evaluating African drama.
Ezra Pound's dictum can be refashioned in to several a d d itio n a l,
though re la te d , p rin c ip le s:
1. A r t is t i c values are manifested in d isp arate ways in the
diverse a r t s of African c u ltu re s.
a. The language of African drama is expressed in the
m ysteries and magic of the a r t forms: African proverb,
r id d le , t a l e , .music, dance, song, mime, masquerade,
sculpture and mask.
b< This language can be verbal, musical or p h y sical, and
20
a ll a t the same time.
2. African drama is "fu n c tio n al," th a t i s , " i t serves a purpose
w ithin communities and cultures th a t is much g re a te r than
21
simply th a t of entertainment or d iv ersio n ."
_________________________________________ _ _ _ _ _ __________ 238
3. A knowledge of the tra d itio n a l forms of African drama is
e sse n tia l to an understanding of the p a rtic ip a to ry aspect
22
of th is drama.
In esta b lish in g the above p rin c ip le s fo r evaluating African
drama, I am suggesting the kinds of equipment needed by the "outsider"
used to the preconceptions and preconditions th a t have done so much to
lim it contemporary Western th e a tre . African drama has developed w ith
out r e s tr ic tio n s being placed upon i t e ith e r by the in te rp r e te r s of
A ris to tle , or by physical lim ita tio n s , o r by time b a rrie rs such as
proscribe the form and length of much Western drama. There is no more
reason for the c r i t i c of African drama to f a ll down in a f a i n t before
A r i s t o t l e 's Poetics^ than there is fo r having one's illn e s s e s diagnosed
by Hippocrates, e sp e c ia lly since the Poetics is a c o lle c tio n of musings
on the su b ject of Western tragedy. A ris to tle himself fu lly realized
th a t an a r t must be judged on i t s own premises— "correctness fo r a
poet is not the same as for a p o l i t i c i a n ." But, th a t these premises
were, in the case of tragedy, purely a e s th e tic , and th erefo re
a c u ltu r a l, is a thought th a t could not have occurred to him, as i t
does not occur to the modern African dram atist. This is not to say,
of course, th a t a good deal of African dram a--especially works, sf.non-
African l i t e r a r y antecedents--does not e x h ib it some predetermined
Western dimensions. I t most c e rta in ly does, as I have been a t pains
to point out in th is study. M y position i s , however, th a t the
a p p licatio n of c r i t i c a l c r i t e r i a , developed gradually over centuries
of shaping and molding th a t have caused Western drama to f i t a well
239
defined paradigm, w ill not n ecessa rily be germane to much African
drama. As Banham and Wake remark in th e i r Introduction to African
Theatre Today, African playw riting is packaged to f i t Western th eatre
tra d itio n s "for convenience"; y e t i t has i t s basic form and nature
23
outside these borrowed r e s t r i c t i o n s . I t is th is ambiguous r e la tio n
ship with i t s m aterial th a t brings me to my fin al re fle c tio n on
African drama.
In any tr a d itio n a l p ersp ectiv e, African drama is complex and
uncomfortably stran g e, almost exasperating to ta s te s founded on
Eurocentric c r i t e r i a . (E uripides' drama was j u s t as vexatious to
Greek s e n s i b i l i t i e s nursed on Aeschylus and Sophocles.) I ts premises
are unlike, and almost the inversion of, those of the tra d itio n a l
Western th e a tre . T ypically, i t lik es to conceal the tru th under
layers of elusive irony. I t presents i t s typical actions as problems--
Z ifa 's impotence, for example--and thereby involves i t s audience in a
new r e la tio n , not only with the m aterial as presented but with the
e n tire range of tra d itio n a l th e a tre , the African world view. This
suggests th a t the e sse n tia l vision of African th e a tre lie s not only in
an ideal rep resen tatio n of African so ciety in r e la tio n to i t s own
h is to ric a l tra d itio n s but also in re la tio n to the impact of Western
c u ltu re upon those tr a d itio n s . Lloyd W . Brown, in his essay on
Sutherland and Aidoo, s ta te s the issue in these terms:
. . . since the p lay w right's dramatic forms are
themselves the r e s u l t o f these h is to ric a l processes,
then the play does not simply represent cultural
tra d itio n s in a d e sc rip tiv e or thematic sense:
the play i t s e l f and the th e a tric a l experience as
a whole are the tra d itio n s th a t they d e sc rib e . 24
240
Sutherland, fo r one, seems to take pains to suggest th a t the
theme of cu ltu ra l values which she tr e a ts in her plays (including
Edufa) embraces a sense of tra d itio n in each so c ie ty ; and th a t the
d ram atists' own sense of tr a d itio n with respect to t h e i r own genre
(v is -a -v is the re la tio n s h ip between Edufa and i t s Euripidean
precedent, fo r instance) is analogous to th e sense of tr a d itio n in the
so ciety which the dram a-as-theatre re-en ac ts. In an analogical sense
the idea of tra d itio n in the th e a tre is id e n tifie d with the idea of
tra d itio n in the s o c ie ty , so th a t the play is no longer simply about
social tra d itio n s but an extension of s o c ie ty 's h is to ric a l s e lf -
consciousness .
Hence, th e African d ram atists' sense of th e a tre (Sutherland,
Clark, Soyinka), as elucidated by th e i r indebtedness to Euripides, is
organic to , ra th e r than a e s th e tic a lly separate from, the social
experience. The Athenians of Euripides' time regarded the th e a tre ,
not as entertainm ent, but as the supreme instrum ent of cu ltu ra l
in s tru c tio n , a democratic paideia complete in i t s e l f . In the same way
the contemporary African th e a tre draws upon t r a d it i o n s , b e lie f s , and
25
needs th a t are not remote in time but which c o -e x ist alongside i t .
This being the case, i t is p ossible to develop the a r t i s t i c / a e s t h e t i c
issue as an in te g ra l p art of the so c io -c u ltu ra l gen eralizatio n s th a t
are constantly bandied about by A frican ists of varied persuasions.
Or, to phrase the issue another way: the c r i t i c of African drama must
be "prepared to deal with s p e c ific cultural issues as they a f fe c t or
illum inate a e s th e tic claims"; and, th e re fo re , his c r i t i c a l to o ls must
241
not only be comparative but also c u ltu ra lly adjusted in order th a t
he "may discover and p re c ise ly describe the a f f i n i t i e s th a t 'could'
e x is t between his a e s th e tic responses to a r t i s t i c forms which are
26
c u ltu ra lly d iff e r e n tia te d from each o th e r."
I propose to h a lt th is essay a t the f r o n tie r of a e s th e tic s ,
and confine myself to such ru les of thumb as can be applied by the
reasonable person in te re ste d in African drama. I f someone objects
th a t I have not r e a lly tackled the issue of African a e s th e tic s , I can
only say th a t i t was not my purpose to do so, but only to suggest some
p ra c tic a l o u tlin e of evaluative p rin c ip le s th a t the student of a
p a r tic u la r kind of African drama could conceivably pursue with p r o f i t .
What m atters, in the end, is the uniqueness of the individual work of
a r t . However, th is uniqueness can only be appreciated across cultures
when the c r i t i c knows something of the tr a d itio n s and conventions th a t
have been accepted or modified; when he is conscious of the e a r l i e r
works a dram atist has used and wants the audience/reader to know about
(as Soyinka wants us to know about Euripides' Bacchae, Sutherland
about A lc e s tis , Clark about the symphonic form); when he has held the
work ag ain st i t s antecedents in the same genre; when he has, in the
f u l l e s t sense, compared the dramatic work with i t s models, analogues
o r opposites and charted i t s p o sitio n in the development of dramatic
forms and the tr a d itio n a l s tru c tu re and values of African so c ie ty .
"'P u re ' a r t i s t i c ap p re c ia tio n ," as E lio t reminds us,
is only an id e a l, when not merely a figment, and must be,
so long as the appreciation o f a r t is an a f f a i r of lim ited
242
and tra n s ie n t human beings ex istin g in space and time.
Both a r t i s t and audience are lim ited. There is fo r
each time, fo r each a r t i s t , a kind of allo y required
to make the metal workable into a r t ; and each generation
[each culture] p refers i t s own allo y to any o th e r .27
243
CHAPTER IV FOOTNOTES
Werner Jaeger, Paideia: The Ideal of Greek C ulture, tra n s.
G ilbert Highet (New York: Oxford U niversity P ress, 1939), Vol. I, pp.
xv, x x i i i .
2
Wole Soyinka, Myth, L ite ra tu re and the African World
(Cambridge: Cambridge U niversity Press, 1976), p. 48. See a lso ,
Erich Segal, e d .} ■ Euripides: A Collection of C ritic a l Essays
(Englewood C lif f s , N .J.: P re n tic e -H a ll, In c ., 1968), p. 10.
3
Soyinka, p. 39; Francis Fergusson, Idea of a Theatre (Garden
City, N.Y.: Doubleday Anchor Books, In c ., 1953), P« 45.
^Fergusson, p. 47.
5
Soyinka, pp. 50, 53. See a lso , S eg al's notion of Euripidean
paradox, pp. 2-4.
^Fergusson, p. 16.
^Soyinka, pp. 56, 60. See a lso , Segal, p. 6 .
Q
This point was f i r s t a r tic u la te d by E. R. Dodds, in his
essay, "Euripides the I r r a t i o n a l i s t , " Classical Review, XLIII (July
1929), 97-104.
g
Jan Kott, The Eating of the Gods: An In te rp re ta tio n of Greek
Tragedy (New York: Vintage Books, Random House, 1974), p. 220.
^O yin Ogumba, "Modern Drama in West A frica," in Perspectives
on African L ite r a tu r e , ed. Christopher Heywood (London: Heinemann,
1971), p. 98. See a lso , Segal, p. 2.
^Soyinka, p. 52.
244
12
G. F. W . Hegel, Lectures on the A esthetic (Vorlesungen liber
die A sth etik ), (Aufbau-Verlag, 1955), 1071.
13
Soyinka, p. 53.
^S o y in k a, p. 53.
15
William Arrowsmith, "Euripides' Theater of Ideas," in Segal,
op c i t . , p. 18.
■^Arrowsmith, p. 21.
17
Arrowsmith, p. 29.
18
Lloyd W . Brown, "Sutherland and Aidoo: The Theatre As T radi
tio n ," Paper delivered a t the U niversity of Ibadan, Nigeria (July 1976)
p. 2 .
^ T . S. E lio t, "The Function of C riticism ," in Selected Essays
of T. S. E lio t (New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, I n c ., 1950), p. 21;
see also E l i o t 's The Use of Poetry and the Use of C riticism (London:
Faber and Faber, L td., 1933), pp. 85, 98, 154. Ezra Pound, "A
R etrospect," in The L iterary Essays of Ezara Pound (Norfolk, Conn.:
New D irections, 1954), p. 11. Anthropologist Nancy J. Schmidt also
c ite s E lio t and Pound in e sta b lish in g h er taxonomies f o r approaching
African lit e r a t u r e s from an anthropological perspective. See Nancy
J. Schmidt, "Anthropological Perspectives and the C riticism s of
African L i t e r a t u r e s ," Paper w ritte n fo r the African L ite ra tu re
Assoc. Meetings (Austin, Texas, March 20-22, 1975).
20
S cott Kennedy, In Search of African Theatre (New York:
Charles S crib n e r's Sons, 1973), p. 18. Martin Banham, with Clive
Wake, African Theatre Today (London: Pitman Publishing, L td ., 1973),
p. 3.
21
Banham and Wake, p. 1.
22
S cott Kennedy gives the following c la s s if ic a tio n s of the
s p e c ific elements in tra d itio n a l African drama:
(1) Ceremonial Drama, which is dramatic expression
asso ciated with s o c ia l, r i t u a l , or ceremonial
occasions; (2) S to ry te l1ing Drama, which is a composite
of n a rra tiv e and dialogue, music, poetry, mime, and the
movements of the dance; and (3) Dance-Drama, which is
drama expressed through music, poetry, mime, and the
245
movements of the dance. In dance-drama usually the
master drummer d ic ta te s the tempo, holds the rhythm
section to g eth er, and sometimes choreographs the
p a tte rn . At any given time these three elements may
come to g eth er to form a unique dramatic experience in
th e a tre . And r a re ly , i f ever, does th is th e a tre
e x is t as something separate from social l i f e ; ra th e r
i t is a necessary contribution to i t s f u lfillm e n t.
See Kennedy, p. 44.
23
Banham and Wake, p. 3.
24
Brown, p. 2.
O C
Banham and Wake, p. 2.
26Lloyd W . Brown, "The Black A esthetic and Comparative
C riticism ," Council on National L ite ra tu re s ' Report, I (January 1974),
p. 8 .
2 7 I . S. E lio t, "Matthew Arnold," in The Use of Poetry and the
Use of C riticism (London: Faber and Faber, L td ., 1933), p. 109.
246
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Asset Metadata

Creator Costello, Maurice Law (author)

Core Title Greek drama and the African world: A study of three African dramas in the light of Greek antecedents

Degree Doctor of Philosophy

Degree Program Comparative Literature

Publisher University of Southern California (original), University of Southern California. Libraries (digital)

Tag Literature, African,OAI-PMH Harvest,Theater

Language English

Contributor Digitized by ProQuest (provenance)

Permanent Link (DOI) https://doi.org/10.25549/usctheses-c17-736112

Unique identifier UC11344982

Identifier DP22542.pdf (filename),usctheses-c17-736112 (legacy record id)

Legacy Identifier DP22542.pdf

Dmrecord 736112

Document Type Dissertation

Rights Costello, Maurice Law

Type texts

Source University of Southern California (contributing entity), University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses (collection)

Access Conditions The author retains rights to his/her dissertation, thesis or other graduate work according to U.S. copyright law. Electronic access is being provided by the USC Libraries in agreement with the au...

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