I had been waiting close to an hour for my coffee date whenI ran into the colonel. Like many of Bamako’s power brokers, the 50-somethingofficer, who is a friend, often conducts business on the broad terrace of theLebanese cafe where we met. He always wears spotless gowns of the richestfabric and expensive European cologne.
I mentioned that I was waiting to meet a griot, atraditional storyteller. His boyish, bulging eyes were suddenly defiant. “Wedon’t have griots anymore. Not us. We left that behind,” the colonel said,smirking.
She emerged from a taxi, spotted me, and advanced toward ourtable, squinting at the colonel. To my surprise, they embraced as old friends.He blushed as she sat down and took sudden control of the table, speakingloudly, blessing him, reminding him of shared history.
Her griot family, it turned out, has presided over hisfamily’s weddings, baptisms and funerals for hundreds of years, praising,representing, serenading and chastising the colonel’s noble relatives. Hesubmitted to her, putting cash in her hands and speaking by telephone with hergriot father, who took the occasion to remind him of some grievance his familyhad committed against the community 70 years ago. As the griot and I left forour meeting, the colonel seemed relieved to see us go.
From birth, Malian griots are taught how to flatter thewealthy and mend social ruptures. From domestic disputes to wars between clans,the griot calms tempers, tames egos, and enjoys immunity. Several years back,when a fight between farmers and nomads in Mali and Guinea erupted into armedconflict, griots from both countries held a summit meeting that produced aresolution.
Perhaps the current crisis in Mali “ more than six monthsago the northern two-thirds of the country were seized by al-Qaida-linkedIslamists who are imposing a violent form of Shariah “ might benefit from thesoft touch of the griot?
Also known in Bamanakan as nyamakalas (handlers of theforces that sculpt the universe), griots proved indispensable in resolvingearlier rebellions in the north, says Oumar Tidiane Soumano, the well-connectedgriot who is president of the Network of Traditional Communicators (known byits French acronym Recotrade). Between meetings with assorted governmentministers who depend upon his counsel, he welcomed me to his modest mud-coloredoffice in Bamako, wearing fashionable sunglasses and a black fez.
Recently, when the country’s more than 70 political partieswere split between backing two interim leaders after the March coup d’etat, heand other top griots mediated a political consensus.
Griots worship peace and seek social harmony above all else.But there are times when only war will do. Soumano believes the current crisisexceeds his vaunted capacities as a peacemaker. For him, the circumstances callfor an outside military intervention.
“Mali is not in a conventional war, a war between states “these are bandits who came with their ideas to attack Mali. They came, theykilled women, they killed children.” He said Mali desperately needs help fromthe United Nations, the African Union and the Economic Community of WestAfrican States.
Islamists in the north and in the south (where aconservative Bamako-based Islamist movement is rapidly strengthening) may posea threat to the precarious balance griots maintain between tradition andmodernity. Islamists are shelling, either with arms, politics or the pulpit,against secularism and animism. Griots, although situated within a localIslamic tradition, are deeply linked to animist beliefs and practices, whichare anathema to strict Islamists.
“The nyamakala is the barometer and the spokesperson of thesociety,” Soumano says. “He is like a fuse. For the electricity to pass, youneed a fuse.”
Hannah Armstrong is a fellow of the Institute of CurrentWorld Affairs in the Sahel
