Music and the Griot Tradition |
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Diva Oumou Sangare (above) and rising star Rokia Traore (right). |
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The griot tradition in Mali goes back for
centuries. Griots were and are oral historians, bards, mediators, spokesmen, entertainers,
magicians. Without a griot, a king’s name died with him. The only way to be
remembered was to have songs written about your exploits, and griots had the power to
write heroic epics as well as comic cautionary tales.
A king’s reputation lay in the hands of his griot. They were so important that griots did no work: food and shelter were provided for them by their king, whom they paid with praise and song. They also served as mediators, resolving disputes between families and villages, arranging marriages, and negotiating peace treaties with rival kingdoms. As with many other professions, one had to be born into a griot family in
order to become one legitimately; similarly, a griot child had no other choice but to
follow in his ancestor’s footsteps. At a very early age children begin learning the
songs and stories, and start to specialize in an instrument. The kora is the most
traditional: it accompanies all of the epic tales. The balafon (xylophone) and ngoni
(three-stringed banjo) are also ancient instruments, each with their own creation story,
and role in the culture. In the modern era, griots have found new niches. Villages still have their griot family who records and tells histories, but in the cities, griots cannot find one family to serve. Habib Koite’s mother is a typical modern griotte: she sings at marriages, baptisms, funerals, and other celebrations, but not necessarily as entertainment. She sings praise songs, recounting the noble lineage of the family hosting the event, and emphasizing the important role of the current generation in the history of the line.
More famous griottes, like Oumou Sangare, Amy Koita, and other divas, sing Malian pop songs, and represent the more entertainment-oriented side of the profession. They perform at bars and clubs, produce cassettes and cds, and they have songs played on the radio. We know them in the west as world musicians, but they know their craft as well as any other griot. Performing griots call out praises just as fast as their less-famous colleagues, because the rewards are often enormous. Powerful Malians, like shady businessman Bazuma Cissoko, buy fully
modernized, gigantic mansions for griots who sing their praises: the songs are played on
the radio and are extremely popular. A good song can turn a felon like Cissoko into a
crafty, Robin Hood-like national hero, and the musicians are compensated accordingly.
Cherif, for example, can shell out a thousand dollars at a baptismal ceremony (the sum is
shared among several griots), and this is not uncommon. Griots flock to powerful men, but
the culture dictates that even if you aren’t that wealthy, you must still pay those
who praise you. The downside to the client relationship is that poorer griots become like
beggars, willing to sing anyone’s praises for a few hundred CFA. Griots are traditionally tied to one family: Keitas and Kouyates, Traores
and Diabates, Coulibalys and Dantes. One of the running jokes throughout the trip was the
fact that I was from a griot family (even though my host family was Malinke, and
hadn’t been griots for centuries). The most famous relative was Tietigiba Dante, the
great griot of the kings of Segou during the 19th century. Conversations on the street
went something like this: |
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