Narrative Voice in Kourouma's Les Soleils des indpendances

Author(s): Rosemary G. Schikora

Source: The French Review, Vol. 55, No. 6, Literature and Civilization of Black
Francophone Africa (May, 1982), pp. 811-817
Published by: American Association of Teachers of French
Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/390647
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THE FRENCH REVIEW, Vol. LV, No. 6, May 1980 Printed in U.S.A.

Narrative Voice in Kourouma's

Les Soleils des independances

by Rosemary G. Schikora

UNDERLYING THIS ANALYSIS OF THE IVOIRIAN Ahmadou Kourouma's Les Soleils

ind6pendances (Seuil, 1970), considered by most critics an exceptional work
African fiction, is the belief that the oral tradition and written African literat
are linked in a very concrete way. The continuity between the two modes, evide
in the analogous use of certain formal devices and rhythmical structures, w
the major focus of this article.
Without minimizing the specificity of each medium, it is nonetheless apparen
that with a novel like Kourouma's Soleils, the oral tradition exerts a tremendous
influence on the work's tone, syntax, and narrative structure. The single most
important variable that individualizes each mode of expression is audience-in
one instance a physically present listener, in another a secluded hypothetical
reader. We shall see that it is primarily in his treatment of audience that Kourouma
imbues his written text with the immediacy and exuberance of an actual oral
performance. In this respect Kourouma's work adds a new dimension to African
fiction, succeeding, where those before him have sought and failed, in capturing
the sound and rhythm of oral expression.
Valuable work has already been undertaken in an effort to formulate a sound
oral poetics. The groundwork having been prepared, Africanists can with great
benefit adapt these findings to specific works. Keeping in mind that, until the
relatively recent growth of literacy, African cultures were primarily oral, that their
vitality depended largely upon the effectiveness of human speech, and that, as a
consequence, a wealth of verbal art has flourished for centuries in Africa, it is
quite possible that uncovering the complicated, often covert relationship between
the oral tradition and today's writing will provide positive direction to African
literary criticism and enable us to focus more clearly on the indisputably African
character of these works.
The inevitable and extraordinary importance of voice, incarnate in the tradi-
tional griot/storyteller, is the single most striking feature of orality. To guarantee
that the word, the message, has been correctly received and interpreted and that
it is therefore retrievable at some later date, the speaker enjoins the audience (or
respondent) to demonstrate this. Whether the audience's reaction takes the
specific form of approval or dissent depends upon the nature of the message,
perhaps somewhat on the persuasiveness of the speaker, but that remains irrele-
vant. What matters in an oral setting is that a function analogous to the fixing
811

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812 FRENCH REVIEW

capacity of print be accomplished. Interestingly, the structuralist terms 6metteur

and recepteur, which denote the movement of sound through space, are particu-
larly apt in describing the interdependence between speaker and audience in
traditional oral societies: the utterance goes out and is received. The storyteller
must ascertain that it has in fact been received, whence the crucial role of the
respondent, or of direct response by the audience to what has been said.
In contrast, wielding the double-edged sword of the print medium, the novelist
is at once empowered by its inherent strengths and constrained by its inadequacies.
Everything that the novelist attempts to convey, even the inflections and reticences
of human speech, must be articulated and fixed on the page. Thus it becomes
clear just how preponderant an influence is exercised upon the written text by the
quality and character of "voice," a term that implies a directly perceptible human
source and, by extension, a receiver of the articulated word. This inevitably raises
the issue of the role of the narrator in fiction. It is the narrator who, as the word
suggests, narrates, speaks, and from whose point of view the reader receives the
story. By defining the narrator according to his or her linguistic function in the
story, rather than by his or her supposed intelligence of the facts, or position
"inside" or "outside" the story, narrative point of view and modes of discourse
can be treated simultaneously, as dual aspects of a single issue. As we explore this
facet of Soleils, the question "who is speaking, and to whom?" shall remain in the
forefront of the discussion.
Kourouma's novel reveals many aspects of the engaging artistry of the griot-
master storyteller, trustee of the lore, the genealogy, and the wisdom of traditional
African societies. It is by virtue of its flawlessly oral quality that here, more than
in any other African novel, the reader encounters the shape and sound of oral
performance. As Cobbs found in her study of the literature of the slave Diaspora,
"the verbal techniques of oral art are embodied in a concrete speaker-audience
relationship."' The textual voice that emanates from Kourouma's work relies upon
two devices highly reminiscent of the call and response format of oral perform-
ance-altemance between first and second person, and a special fondness for the
exclamatory and interrogative mood. The surprising effect that these produce in
Kourouma's novel is to elicit the readers' response. They help to sustain a dynamic
and flexible relationship between the narrator and the audience.
Kourouma achieves almost immediately that ambiance of ease, of relaxed
familiarity, indeed of intimacy so readily identifiable with the storytelling setting,
so indispensable a factor in the relationship between storyteller and audience.
From the first sentence, the narrator transforms the isolated reader into an
"audience" and then proceeds to enlist his sympathetic cooperation. Although the
narrator is occasionally reminded that there are non-Malinke present ("Vous ne
le savez pas parce que vous n'etes pas Malink6" and similar remarks occur
throughout the text), the general tenor of the narrative, strengthened by asides
like "Que voulez-vous?", "Dites-moi," and "Mais attention," reveals a close bond,
indeed almost a kinship between the Malinke narrator and the listeners gathered

' Harlem, Haiti and Havana (Washington: Three Continents Press, 1979), p. 8.

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NARRATIVE VOICE IN KOUROUMA 813

around. The narrator who says je plays no role in the events of the
decidedly well informed, as only an insider could be, concerning th
Malinke milieu depicted. He is equally knowledgable about the prota
and Salimata, although the perspective he enjoys is not solely that of an
narrator, nor does he identify exclusively with any single character
point of view indicated by textual voice qualities-the inflections, the in
the idiom-is at once that of a distinct narrative je, Fama, Salimata, a
group to which they belong.
Frequent recourse to the first person plural permits the narrator to c
to himself as raconteur and at the same time to draw the readers closer
them to listen well ("Faisons bien le tour des choses," "Nous vider
suite le sac de ce vieux fauve," "Mais asseyons-nous et restons autou
des chasseurs"). The second person who is queried and cajoled,
receiver of the narrator's utterances, does not remain the same thr
work. Aided by a geometric metaphor, we might visualize the spea
phenomenon as a pattern of shifting, audible spheres. When the pr
is that of the griot/narrator its range is circumscribed within the imp
listeners drawn around him. This exchange is often characterized by
construction, the narrator identifying himself as such, the readers
explicitly invited to respond. The first of many examples of this o
very first page, where the narrator interrupts his rather fantastic tale
account the audience's reaction: "Vous paraissez sceptique!", he rem
bien, mois, je vous le jure .. .", he quips and then continues with his
is clearly reminiscent of standard storytelling procedure, whereby the
order to persuade his listeners that "he knows what he is talking ab
to have either personal knowledge of the events or at least a reliable
type of discourse constitutes the widest speaker/listener sphere, in the
the origin of the voice is outside the story itself, somewhere in that m
that separates author as person and text as discourse.
The voice emanating from this point of view is frequently interr
dissonant one that demands closer attention, for it contributes to the p
quality of the work, which is one of its major technical accomplis
variant on the play of personal pronouns is seen in the way the narrato
series of alternations between second and third person. In a single
zigzags between the familiar tu and the impersonal il:

Fama etait agac6 par l'insomnie et se reprocha de ne pas profiter de la veil

penser a son sort. Reflechis a des choses s6rieuses, legitime descendan
Doumbouya! ... Es-tu, oui ou non, le demier, le derier descendant de S
mane Doumbouya? Ces soleils sur les tetes, ces politiciens, tous ces vo
menteurs, tous ces dehontes, ne sont-ils pas le desert batard oi doit m
fleuve Doumbouya? Et Fama commenca de penser... (P. 99)

Another among numerous striking examples of the technique is later fo

account of Fama's death, a passage admirably constructed by blendi
of the detached, objective narrator with that of the comatose hero h

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814 FRENCH REVIEW

technique enables the author to penetrate the consciousness of the protagonist,

not only to that level of coherent thought more easily verbalized, but to that of
the pre- and sub-conscious inhabited during stages of sleep and delirium.
The alternation between second and third person can be construed as overlap-
ping zones, or spheres, whose common ground is defined by the position of the
narrator who turns "inward," directly addressing a character (and as he does, so
too does the audience), then abruptly in the opposite direction, projecting his
voice "outward" toward that same audience. In a sense, the audience thus acquires
a voice of its own. We are perhaps as close here as possible in a written text to
simulating a participatory audience-a crucial component of traditional oral
performance.
An interesting effect is achieved whenever the narrator says tu. Although a
character, usually Fama, is the receiver of this type of utterance, the readers
cannot help but be alerted also, cannot help but feel summoned. In a very subtle
manner, they are thereby drawn into the story, made to identify more closely
with the creation of the characters and their predicaments. The narrator thus
manipulates the readers by joining their voice to his and exerts an imperceptible
control over their degree of involvement with the events of the story. They, on the
other hand, are accorded the dual advantage of "seeing with" the protagonist and
then withdrawing with the narrator to a distant vantage point from which they are
able to know or at least anticipate the outcome of the story and alternately chide,
encourage, or admonish the protagonist with whom they appear to share a very
special rapport.
The numerous and distinct strains that produce the total textual voice are
conveyed largely in passages of free indirect discourse, regardless of whose point
of view informs the particular incident being recounted. Fama's point of view is
naturally the dominant one, yet much of the work's power to sustain our interest,
to entertain, amuse, and move us, derives from the contrast of antagonistic points
of view, conveyed in the most direct and unmediated fashion. One example of
this method of juxtaposition is offered by the memorable spectacle that Fama
creates after arriving late at the opening funeral. Neither his point of view nor the
community's reaction to his outrageous behavior is absent from this highly
choreographed scene. A subtle tonal shift is first effected when the objective
narrator slips unobtrusively into Fama's own manner of speech, abandoning the
readers to formulate their own opinions as to the true nature of events and
personalities. Is Fama a vautour, as the narrative je intimates? Or are the others all
batards, fils de chien? We are free to draw our own conclusions.
Standing in rude contrast to Fama's perception of any given situation is the
public's reaction to him, revealed in typically "popular" speech habits-savory,
straightforward expressions, colloquial syntax, repetitions-all punctuated with
frequent exclamations. Both Fama and the others take on greater relief and become
more comprehensible when contrasted with each other. And since each point of
view appears to issue directly from the characters, much of the novel reads as if
it were being told by the griot/narrator, who achieves vivid character portrayal by
his sensitivity to and ability to recreate their speech. This third type of voice is

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NARRATIVE VOICE IN KOUROUMA 815

emitted and received entirely from within the story; there is no interf
the narrator. Even when the second person is used, the thoughts expres
not to the narrator, but to the characters themselves. This mode
constitutes a third sphere of sound, of voice, smaller than the others in
contained within the limits of the story, from which the narrator, in
as mediator between story and reader, is excluded. The captivating
griot is prominently displayed in this work, yet nowhere better than i
sonorous polyphony of voices that contributes to the telling of this sto
In oral literature, as in Kourouma's novel, the real outside world, that
exterior to the story, is constantly referred to, producing a sense of im
unlike that which characterizes the oral idiom. Sometimes this is achiev
by addressing the audience, a device that momentarily stops story (
time in order to reintegrate the story within the larger context of
Rhetorical questions and interpellations by the narrator are designed
readers' attention, by piquing their curiosity or by shattering the
illusion that story and reality are separate entities.
The quality of immediacy is also achieved by concrete and figurati
rather than through abstraction. As Tedlock points out, "a good narrato
story"; only when this first condition has been met may he or she then
make the audience see as well.2 To accomplish this process of visual
novelist often has recourse to the figurative power of simile, metaphor, and
proverb. It is particularly this last item-proverbial language-that is cited most
often by admirers of Kourouma as illustrative of his masterful storyteller's ability.
Indeed, Soleils does more than just contain proverbs: its very idiom is that of
proverbial speech, which succeeds in breaching the distance between author and
reader, in rendering the former's populist brand of wisdom more immediate, and
in expressing a degree of confidentiality with the reader, since proverbs lose much
of their communicative strength when divorced from their cultural or linguistic
origin. Finnegan maintains that one of the marks of a true proverb is its general
acceptance as the popular expression of some truth.3 Each of the eleven chapter
titles of Soleils closely resembles a folk saying, cast in the oblique, economical
phrasing of proverbial language. The accumulation of proverbs and apothegms is
such that it warrants a much more detailed examination than is possible here.
They are an integral part of the tone and texture of the work, which appears to
recapture with such poise and authenticity the voice of the African griot.
In addition, the author elaborates upon the format of the oral tale by lacing the
text with such words as maintenant, cette nuit-la, and deja and by describing
events in a manner that implies an accompanying gesture of the hand ("un enfant
haut comme ga," p. 150)-techniques that arrest the readers' attention and render
the incident more vivid, more present, more immediate.
This brings us to the consideration of oral syntax and the interruptive features
of speech. Unlike the ideal cha'ne parlee, which flows smoothly and with all the
necessary transitional aids from one thought to the next, the actual spoken idiom
2 "Toward an Oral Poetics," New Literary History, 8 (1977), 507.
3 Oral Literature in Africa (Nairobi: Oxford University Press, 1970), p. 394.

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816 FRENCH REVIEW

is characterized by hestitations, pauses, breaks and repetitions-phenomena that

arise at least in part from the instantaneity of speech and the need to sustain
contact with the listener. Even in the case of more artful delivery than that which
is normally associated with everyday speech, the speaker relies on a certain
number of formulae and devices to jog the memory, regain the listener's attention,
drive home a point, and so on. To achieve emphasis or to heighten the emotional
force of the actual spoken words, the speaker possesses a repertoire comprised of
a variety of exclamatory patterns, from the elliptical interjection, expletive, or
ideophone, to the more elaborate aside, which may take the specific form of a
curse, a profanity, or a wish. Such patterns abound in Kourouma's text. Particularly
appropriate to the belligerent, pathetically beleaguered protagonist, who goes
about his business cursing and railing against his enemies, a highly colloquial,
agitated, often undecorous manner of speech provides the verbal context in which
much of the narrative is cast. Onomatopoeic sounds, such as gazouillis, froufrou,
cocorico, boum-boum, as well as more strictly ideophonic sounds (hououm,
"bubulements des hiboux," "tutubements des chouettes") and interjections (ah!
pouah!), punctuate the narrative. Abstract qualities find very concrete expression,
through the frequent use of similes, alluded to above: "remuant et impoli comme
la barbiche d'un bouc," p. 21; "bouillonnant d'impatience comme mordus par
une bande de fourmis magna," p. 13; "indomptable comme le sexe d'un ane
enrage," p. 141; "moqueuse comme une mouche et, disait-on, feconde comme
une souris," p. 158; "aussi prudent qu'un margouillat a la queue tranchee," p.
186.

Three examples of interruptive features of oral communication appear even

more clearly to arise from the speaker's need to control, as much as possible, the
reception of the message, to predispose the listener toward correctly receiving the
meaning carried by the words. Redundance, auto-correction, and hesitation tech
niques all enable the speaker to adjust, almost instantaneously, to the audience
reaction. Unlike the reader of a written text, who is free to return at will to
passages of particular interest, the listener generally remembers well what was
heard repeatedly and what was heard last. In the tradition of African verbal arts,
redundance is not the anathema that it has come to be in the West. In fact, th
ability to state and restate in somewhat modified fashion, to amplify or elaborate
a certain action or event in what might seem to the unaccustomed ear a highl
repetitious manner, is appreciated in the African oral tradition; in fact, repetition
is one of its characteristic features. In Kourouma's novel, repetition on the
syntactical level occurs most frequently in the form of doubling and accumulation.
We find "On comptait et reconnaissait/nez et oreilles/de tous les quartiers, de
toutes les professions" (p. 11), or more simply, "furie et colere," "les affronts e
coleres," "en plein visage et tres publiquement," "abondants et intarissables,"
"s'enfuirent et se refugierent," "dans et derriere les cases," "dispers6s et em-
port6s," "son boubou enfle et affole." Rhythmical, repetitive patterns are also
highly visible on the level of incident and plot structure, but this is a matter that
deserves much attention of its own.

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NARRATIVE VOICE IN KOUROUMA 817

Auto-correction, which may or may not take the form of repetit

represents an advantage that the speaker (but usually not the wr
namely, to self-correct in the very act of speaking. A statement may
as soon as it is uttered, depending either on the audience's or the
reaction to it. When this occurs in writing, it tends to approximate th
ational, spontaneous, "unedited," form that frequently characteriz
Kourouma's novel, we find numerous examples of this kind of
progress": "c'est donc possible, d'ailleurs suir que ..."; "disons-le en
finally, "les boubous blancs, bleus, verts, jaunes, disons de toutes les co
Pause phenomena are a frequent occurrence in speech and may take
specific forms, most of which we have already signaled. Under wh
their function is essentially to enable the speaker to "keep the floo
or she searches to formulate the next thought. They are signals to the
the speaker has not finished, does not wish to relinquish the flo
evidence of discontinuity in the flow of speech.
Several of the techniques we have noted, several of these verba
typical of an oral idiom and, at the same time, are characteristic
languages.4 Since there are nearly 1,000 distinct African languages,
these, until very recently, exclusively oral, it is not surprising that th
features are so similar to those we have been discussing-juxta
coordination in syntax, economy, concreteness of expression, repe
mulation. As we continue to understand the underlying impulses
idiom, we shall at the same time appreciate more fully the task con
African writer.
Kourouma brings new dynamism and energy to the traditional role of the
narrator. By the same token, he alters the role traditionally reserved for the
readers, by making them sense that they are directly and physically present in the
narration. In Les Soleils des independances it is the narrative voice that so beguiles
the listener. No technique or device in the oral performer's arsenal is absent. Their
skillful manipulation, in conjunction with the poignant and tragic story of one
man's fate, ensures Kourouma's novel a place of distinction in recent African
fiction.

WAYNE STATE UNIVERSITY

4 For further discussion of this topic, see Leopold Senghor, "Langage et poesie negro-africaine," in
Liberte I: Negritude et Humanisme (Paris: Seuil, 1964), pp. 159-72.

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