Sundiata: An Epic of Old Mali (Sunjata)

“Oh king, the world is full of mystery, all is hidden and we know nothing but what we can see. Kingdoms are like trees. Some will be silk-cotton trees, others will remain dwarf palms and the powerful silk-cotton tree will cover them with its shade. Oh, who can recognize in the little child the great king to come? The great comes from the small; truth and falsehood have both circles at the same breast. Nothing is certain, but, sire, I can see two strangers over there coming towards your city.” 

The Sangaran hunter-seer offers his prophecy to Sundiata’s father, Naré Maghan, in cryptic terms. This is the text’s first expression of the importance of fate in deciding human lives and of destiny’s mysteriousness and impermeability to human defiance. Foreshadowing Sundiata as a “great king to come,” this passage is also the text’s first mention of the silk-cotton tree, which symbolizes Sundiata’s slow but certain destiny as king of Mali.

“She will be an extraordinary woman if you manage to possess her.” 

Before telling the two hunters how to defeat her, the buffalo monster of Do instructs them to take Sogolon as their reward. She informs them of Sogolon’s extraordinariness if “possessed,” meaning slept with. This is indicative of women’s role in the text as vehicles for male power. Just as the buffalo monster’s death enables the social elevation of these hunters, Sogolon’s extraordinariness is defined by her conception of an extraordinary son.

“Sassouma Bérété turned out to be unbearable. She was restless, and smarted to see the ugly Sogolon proudly flaunting her pregnancy about the palace for the sake of peace and quiet Sassouma said to herself, ‘very well then let him be born this child and then we’ll see.’” 

This passage begins Chapter 5. With words that are even more profound than those of the Sangaran hunter, the griot Djeli Mamadou Kouyaté expresses the inevitability of fate. This excerpt provides a window into the Mandinka worldview and is notable for its use of apostrophe, a direct address to the reader.

“God has his mysteries which none can fathom. You, perhaps, will be a king. You can do nothing about it. You, on the other hand will be unlucky, but you can do nothing about that either. Each man finds his way already marked out for him and he can change nothing of it.”

This passage begins Chapter 5. With words that are even more profound than those of the Sangaran hunter, the griot Djeli Mamadou Kouyaté expresses the inevitability of fate. This excerpt provides a window into the Mandinka worldview and is notable for its use of apostrophe, a direct address to the reader.

“Sogolon’s son had a slow and difficult childhood. At the age of three he still crawled along on all fours while children of the same age were already walking. He had nothing of the great beauty of his father Naré Maghan. He had a head so big which he seemed unable to support it; he also had large eyes which would open wide whenever anyone entered his mother’s house. […] Malicious tongues began to blab.”

The first description of Sundiata is underwhelming. He is born disabled and does not walk until adolescence. Like his mother, he is also quite ugly. This leads to gossip among the people of Niani and even tests Naré Maghan’s faith in prophecy. However, this “ugly duckling” status marks Sundiata as a unique child and his story as an embodiment of Chapter 5’s opening words about the inevitability of fate.

“In Mali every prince has his own griot. Doua’s father was my father’s griot, Doua is mine, and the son of Doua, Balla Fasséké here, will be your griot. Be inseparable friends from this day forward. From his mouth you will hear the history of your ancestors, you will learn the art of governing Mali according to the principles which our ancestors have bequeathed to us.”

In bequeathing a griot to his son Sundiata, Naré Maghan formalizes Sundiata’s status as the heir to the throne of Mali. He explains the importance of the griot as an aid in government and a teacher of history, and the gesture demonstrates the dynastic connection between a royal family and the griot’s own genealogy.

“He crept on all fours and came to the iron bar. […] In a great effort he straightened up and was on his feet at one go—but the great bar of iron twisted and had taken the form of a bow! […] The queen mother had rushed there and when she saw Mari Djata standing up she trembled from head to foot.”

The scene of Sundiata’s first steps is truncated to a few crucial moments. This event immediately precedes his uprooting of a young baobab tree, a demonstration of his supernatural strength. However, Sundiata’s first show of strength occurs here, as he singlehandedly twists the iron rod it took six men to carry into the shape of a bow. This symbolic shape indicates Sundiata’s future prowess as a hunter and warrior and foreshadows the weapon he will use to defeat Soumaoro, an arrow tipped with a cock’s spur. Notably, as Sundiata gains strength, Sassouma’s body fails her—this demonstration of Sundiata’s true power leaves her trembling from head to foot.

“They suffered the insults which those who leave their country know of. Doors were shut against them and kings chased them from their courts. But all that was part of the great destiny of Sundiata. Seven years past, seven winters followed one another and forgetfulness crept into the souls of men, but time marched on at an even pace. Moon succeeded moons in the same sky and rivers in their beds continued their endless course. Seven years past and Sundiata grew up. His body became sturdy and his misfortunes made his mind wise.”

In a time lapse spanning seven years, the griot narrator Kouyaté reveals that Sundiata grew from boyhood to maturity in exile. These events, compressed into a single passage, show how Sundiata’s exile connects to the fulfilment of prophecy by making him resilient and wise. The Sundiata’s life is compared to a river finding its course: Though the path is winding, the river always reaches its predestined end.

“‘When I go back to Mali’ Sundiata had said ‘I will pass through Tabon to pick you up and we will go to Mali together…I will make you a great general we will travel through many countries in emerge the strongest of all. Kings will tremble before us as a woman trembles before a man.’”

Tabon is one of the many kingdoms Sundiata visits during his exile. Here Sundiata explains his plans to become a great conqueror to his boyhood friend Fran Kamara, the prince of Tabon. It is through such diplomacy and alliance-making that Sundiata amasses the forces necessary for his military conquest of Soumaoro. In this way, Sassouma’s attempt to circumvent prophecy only helps to bring the prophecy to fruition.

“The country of Ghana is a dry region where water is short. Formerly the Cissés of Ghana were the most powerful of princes. They were descended from Alexander the Great, the king of gold and silver, but ever since the Cissés had broken the ancestral taboo their power and kept on declining. At the time of Sundiata the descendants of Alexander were paying tribute to the king of Sosso. After several days of travelling the caravan arrived outside Wagadou. The merchant showed Sogolon and her children the great forest of Ouagadougou common with a great serpent god used to live.”

After Tabon, Sundiata and his family head to the city of Wagadou in the kingdom of Ghana. Ghana was the seat of the first West African empire, which thrived from the 9th to the 11th century, fed by trans-Saharan trade. The decline mentioned here is historically accurate, but this incorporation of accurate historical data is coupled with local myth, mainly the reference to the propitiation and calamitous destruction of a serpent-god at Wagadou, a narrative similar to that of the ancient Greek myth of the Minotaur (91).

“After three years the king appointed Sundiata Kan-Koro-Sigui, his Viceroy, and in the king’s absence it was he who governed. Djata had now seen eighteen winters and at that time he was a tall young man with a fat neck and a powerful chest. Nobody else could bend his bow. Everyone bowed before him but he was greatly loved. Those who did not love him feared him and his voice carried authority. The king’s choice was approved of both by the army and the people; the people love all who assert themselves over them.” 

At Mema, Sundiata grows from adolescence to young adulthood. He also goes on his first military campaign, proving himself a fierce warrior and skilled tactician. He naturally grows into the role of military leader and viceroy to the king. Above all, Sundiata is marked as a leader by his strength and his ability to command respect. As the text reveals, love between people and their king is important, but respect is tantamount: “the people love all who assert themselves over them.”

“Sogolon knew that the time had arrived and she had performed her task. She had nurtured the son for whom the world was waiting and she knew that now her mission was accomplished, while that of Djata was about to begin. One day she said to her son, ‘do not deceive yourself. Your destiny lies not here but in Mali. The moment has come. I finished my task and it is yours that is going to begin, my son. But you must be able to wait. Everything in its own good time.’” 

As Sundiata becomes a man, Sogolon’s purpose in life is realized. With Sundiata’s maturation, Sogolon has become more sickly, as if Sundiata’s growth as a supernatural force drains the extraordinariness out of his mother. Soon Sogolon will die, and Sundiata will return to Mali. Notably, Sogolon’s recession into the story’s background also occurs for Sassouma Bérété, who is not heard from again after Sundiata’s exile.

“He began to play. He had never heard such a melodious balafon. Though scarcely touched by the hammer, the resonant wood gave out sounds of an infinite sweetness, notes clear and as pure as gold dust; under the skillful hand of Bala the instrument had found its master. He played with all his soul and the whole room was filled with wonderment. The drowsy owls, eyes half closed began to move their heads as though with satisfaction. Everything seems to come to life upon the strains of this magic music. The nine skulls resumed their earthly forms and blinked at hearing the solemn ‘Vulture Tune’; with its head resting on the rim, the snake seemed to listen from the jar.” 

The world of Sundiata is an animist one, in which magic can be coaxed from everyday objects like plants and animals, landscapes, and musical instruments. As poets, griots live close to this magic and are skilled practitioners of the balafon, which accompanies their performances. This reference to the griot playing a balafon is a metatextual moment, as the instrument would have accompanied many performances of this epic.

“Thus Balla Fasséké, whom king Naré Maghan had given to his son Sundiata, was stolen from the latter by Dankaran Touman; now it was the king of Sosso, Soumaoro Kanté who, in turn, stole the precious griot from the son of Sassouma Bérété. In this way war between Sundiata and Soumaoro became inevitable.” 

A king and his griot are indelibly linked, and this passage exemplifies the griot’s political significance to the kingship by stating that war between Soumaoro and Sundiata over a griot is inevitable. Just as Dankaran Touman’s earlier abduction of Balla Fasséké represents his usurping of the Mali throne, Soumaoro’s incorporation of Balla into his own court is a threat suggesting that Sundiata will also become subject to this emperor.

“Other peoples use writing to record the past, but this invention has killed the faculty of memory among them. They do not feel the past any more, for writing lacks the warmth of the human voice. With them everybody thinks he knows, whereas learning should be a secret. The prophets did not write and their words have been all the more vivid as a result. What paltry learning is that which is congealed in dumb books! I, Djeli Mamoudou Kouyaté, I am the result of a long tradition. For generations we have passed on the history of kings from father to son. The narrative was passed on to me without alteration and I deliver it without alteration, for I received it free from all untruth.” 

At the beginning of Chapter 9, the griot Kouyaté breaks into a first-person mode, reintroduces himself, and expresses some of the epistemological differences of oral and literate cultures. In oral cultures individual storytellers are the keepers of cultural memory, whereas in literate cultures books serve this purpose. Kouyaté considers oral culture superior because of the warmth of the voice and the magic infused in language and history through their keeping by oral historians like the griot.

“The fortified town of Sosso was the bulwark of fetishism against the word of Allah.” 

The historical Sundiata is not considered to have been a devout Muslim, but he did change his cultural dress depending on the kingdom and people with whom he was dealing. This is apparent throughout the text, where in some official circumstances Sundiata dresses as a hunter-king, and in others as a Muslim royal. This excerpt, however, makes a value judgment. Animism and magic are made equal to the antagonist Soumaoro, and therefore Islamic monotheism is made equal to Sundiata. Thus, Sundiata’s conquest of Soumaoro is also Islam’s conquest of traditional polytheism.

“On all sides villages opened their gates to Sundiata. In all these villages Sundiata recruited soldiers. In the same way as light precedes the sun, so the glory of Sundiata, overleaping the mountains, shed itself on the Niger plain.” 

Prior to Sundiata’s war with Soumaoro, the young prince is beginning to be seen not just as the future king of Mali but as the future emperor of many peoples in the region. Note the comparison of his arrival to the arrival of the sun. This harkens back to the Sangaran hunter-seer’s prophecy that a new sun will rise with Sundiata and alludes to the empire of Sundiata’s role model, Alexander the Great. Unlike Soumaoro, who expands his empire through fear and inspires many revolts, Sundiata is a just leader and is welcomed into many communities to develop his army. This is the crucial difference between the two characters.

“Raising his hand, Maghan Sundiata spoke thus: ‘I salute you all, sons of Mali, and I salute you, Kamandjan. I have come back, and as long as I breathe Mali will never be enthralled—rather death than slavery. We will live free because our ancestors lived free. I am going to avenge the indignity that Mali has undergone.’” 

In his first public speech, Sundiata makes a cry for freedom against the indignity of Soumaoro’s imperial control. The major argument for the necessity of this freedom which Sundiata invokes is ancestry. To a Mandinka listener, this passage would be particularly inspiring, instructing them to demand the same freedom from colonial powers that Sundiata demanded from Soumaoro.

“Oh son of Sogolon, I am the word and you are the deed, now your destiny begins.” 

These are the words Fasséké speaks to Sundiata upon their reunification. They express the dynamic relationship between the griot and the ruler as a singular political entity, both of whom are needed to complete the other. It is only now that Fasséké has returned to Sundiata that Sundiata is capable of legitimate kingship.

“There would not be any heroes if deeds were condemned to man’s forgetfulness, for we ply our trade to excite the admiration of the living, and to evoke the veneration of those who are to come.” 

After Fasséké is returned to Sundiata, the griot narrator again celebrates the griot’s role in Mandinka culture. The griot the voice of the ruler, and they immortalize rulers in story. As such, the king cannot survive in cultural memory without the griot.

“Kingdoms and empires are in the likeness of men; like him they are born, they grow and disappear. Will Soumaoro dominate the world? […] No, you may be glad, children of the Bright Country, for the kingship of Sosso is but the growth of yesterday whereas that of Mali dates from the time of Bilali. […] You, Maghan, are Mali. It has had a long and difficult childhood like you. […] You are the outgrowth of Mali just like the silk-cotton tree is the outgrowth of the earth, born of deep and mighty roots. To face the tempest the tree must have long roots and gnarled branches. Maghan Sundiata, has not the tree grown?”

During a rousing speech to Sundiata’s troops, Balla Fasséké draws an extended simile between the history of a kingdom and the life of a single man. From here, Fasséké equates Sundiata with the entirety of the kingdom of Mali. This encapsulation of an entire culture within the life and acts of a single hero is a trademark of the epic form, and this connection has been implicitly suggested several times in the text. Here, for the first time, the text makes this comparison explicit, spoken by Fasséké himself.

“Many years have rolled by and many times the moon has traversed the heaven since these places lost their inhabitants. The bourein, the tree of desolation, spreads out its thorny undergrowth and insolently grows in Soumaoro’s capital. Sosso the proud is nothing but a memory in the mouth of griots. The hyenas come to wail there at night. The hare and the hind come and feed on the site of the palace of Soumaoro the king who were robes of human skin. Sosso vanished from the earth and it was Sundiata, the son of the Buffalo, who gave these places over to solitude. After the destruction of Soumaoro’s capital in the world knew no other master but Sundiata.” 

This reference to the passage of time and the destruction of a city is ripe with animal and ecological symbolism. The powerful Sosso Empire has become a wasteland full of thorns where hyenas howl and hares feed. The ruination of Sosso by Sundiata also precludes the decline of Sundiata’s own Mali Empire. All kingdoms fall to the sands of time.

“In the world man suffers for a season, but never eternally. Here we are at the end of our trials. We are at peace. May God be praised. But we owe this peace to one man who, by his courage and his valiance, was able to lead our troops to victory… We realized that Soumaoro was a human being and not an incarnation of the devil, for he was no longer invincible. A man came to us. He had heard our groans and came to our aid, like a father when he sees his son in tears…Sundiata.” 

In the reception at Kaba, Balla Fasséké honors Sundiata with a speech delivered to the assembled kingdoms. Throughout the text Sundiata has been hailed as a savior. Here, comparisons of Sundiata with Christ come to the fore. Sundiata is a man who arrives to liberate humanity: He “came to us,” he defeated a “devil,” and he now relates to humanity as a “father” relates to a son.