Semiotic aspecs of oral literature

It happened that Maurice Béjart organized a trip with his dance company to an African village, well known for the lust for dancing of its inhabitants. Béjart was curious to experience reactions of extremely dance-loving people to his ballet-art.

A stage was installed in the village. People all around were acknowledged that a dance performance would take place at such and such hour. Many local people were present when the curtain went up. The ballet-dancers started to dance.

Then, an amazing thing happened.

The public started to dance. The stage was invaded. Eerybody danced, full of joy, amidst the astonished professionals, who understood that the planned program was completely besided, overruled by local habits. The foreseen performance was over.

1. CODE/CULTURE

This unexpected event makes it clear that public performances rely basically on common pesuppositions. On ideas that live in the spirits of people. Ideas that people may be unaware of, as they are considered to be 'normal', 'speaking for themselves', 'accepted by everybody in the world' (which is not the case). The presupposition of the ballet-dancers was that for a dance-performance a distinction between dancers and the public is necessary. A distinction marked by seperate space and also by different behaviour, the spectators being passive and silent in front of active performers and their music. For the locals the valid presupposition must have been that, when people start dancing, you show your sympathy by dancing too. Who does not remember president Mandela of South-Africa making dancing-movements in front of his countrymen when they showed him their love.

We may call such differences in conceptions of how to handle specific situations as a consequence of different interpretations: differences of codes. A code is a set of general rules stocked in human minds. These rules enable people to come to interpretations. These interpretations are incentives to make decisions for adequate handling situations.

A good, simple and classic exemple is our handling traffic situations in relation to the traffic code. Having internalized the traffic code, we know that we must stop when the traffic light is red. Two signs (the upper light is lit, the red light is lit) bring
us to the required interpretation and reaction. Another exemple. When a stranger comes to Indonesia, he must know that, when somebody hands over something, he must not accept it with his left hand, if he wants not to be considered 'kasar', that is to say not-well-educated. For the same reason it is better that he does not laugh too loudly.

What happened to Maurice Béjart and his dancers makes it clear that learning to know the codes is necessary for everyone who comes in contact with people from another culture. What is a culture, fundamentally? It is a set of codes, internalized by people of the same community. These are codes by which members of a same community reckognize each other and by which they reckognize those who belong to some other community. Thus, culture offers an identification-function and a distinction-function, not to say exclusion-function, alltogether.

2. ORAL LITERATURE AS A SPECIAL ELEMENT OF CULTURE - COMMUNICATION

Oral literature, as an art form, is an element of culture. It is also a performing art, juist as ballet-dancing. This explains why, intending to speak about oral literature, I started to give an exemple chosen from a a dancing performance. Comparing oral literature with ballet-dancing, I wanted to stress the specificity of orl literature as a performing art. That is basic, in my eyes. Of course, for me as a semiotician, the peculiar specificity of oral literature lies in its semiotic syntax. It is a syntax in which several different sign-systems have their place. Language may be the most important, the most sophisticated of these sign-systems, it is certainly not the only one.

When, for instance, a storyteller stands before an audience, his body-language, his gestures, the look on his face, his mimics, the way he is dressed, the sound-quality of his voic, his eloquence, all these semiotic tools, constituants of meaning, all these non-verbal signs are interpreted by the public, together with the verbal signs, the words. All that in close relation with the individual presuppostions in the minds of every individual member of the audience.

Some of the signs perceived and interpreted can be called paralinguistic. That is to say: without being linguistic themselves, they are intimately connected to linguistic constituants. They go with the words, cannot exist without them. So are the sound of a voice, the 'timbre', that tells you, for instance, if it is a man or a woman who is speaking, a strong personality or somebody sweet and sensitive. Other non-verbal signs are purely non-linguistic. Think of facial expressions, body-movements, gestures. They may tell things language cannot tell.

All these things produce meaning. They can be extremely effective. If some of them have their function in an explicit way, others are hidden, subtle, subliminal. Subliminal, that is to say: so well hidden that the Receiver is even not aware having perceived a phenomenon that is a sign. So well hidden that the Receiver is not aware of the power of the semiotic means used by the Sender. Think of the tricks used in publicity-messages.

Some performers dispose of a great number of sign-systems. Others are more limited in their means of communication. Tradition can be a limiting or an an extending factor. In wayang kulit, the dalang has his traditional puppets, the traditional stories. This causes limitation of his narrative possibilities. The fact that he has his back turned to the public, forces him to sacrify the possibilities of gesture and facial expressions. But there are always the openings of freedom of express, even in stories based on classic texts from Ramayana or Mahabarata. Semar, who gives his meaning about actual sociopolitical issues with humour. When topeng is used, the masks limit the possibility of facial expression, but these masks intensify the impact of the semiosis.

The French philosopher Georges Bataille has advanced the theory that, in a literary text, a sovereign author communicates with a sovereign reader. The author is, semiotically speaking, a Sender of a Message. If Bataille calls him 'sovereign' he does so because the Sender, who is cretor of the Message, has absolute power to create the story, the persons, the context of it all, just as he likes it. The reader is, semiotically speaking, the Receiver. He is also 'sovereign' in the sense that he is free in his interpretation of the text. He can give it the meaning the author wishes, but he can also misunderstand it, or even refuse the message as a whole.

Bataille's theory, 'literature is communication' is very much worth to be taken into consideration. That is to say: written literature. But we may be sure that the idea is all the more plausible when we think of orl literature.

It is a necessary condition, when we speak of communication, that there be a Sender, a Message and a Receiver. Sender and Receiver may be individual of collective. In my view it is a sufficient condition, more strictly ncessary, of real communication that there be for the Receiver an opportunity to react to the Message. The Receiver must be able to respond, one way or another, to the Message. Communication, in the strict sense of the word, asks for a possibility for the Receiver to become a Sender in his turn. Otherwise there is no real communication. There is only real communication when Sender and Receiver have possibilities to change roles.

In situations where this changing of communication-roles is extremely restricted, or even completely impossible, in situation where a Sender has a semiotic monopoly-position, it happens that people use a word like 'mass-communication'. But 'mass-manipulation' would be, far better, the proper word.

3. SEMIOTIC CONDITIONS OF LITERARY COMMUNICATION

A good exemple of oral literary communication is offered by the performance of a Malinese bard, a so-called 'griot'. For instance the performance executed in Kela, a small village in Mali, West-Africa. There the griot tells by heart, once every seven years, the epic of Sundjata, who is considered to be the founding father of the village community.

That I know this, is the result of my reading of the anthropoligal study written by the Dutch scientist Jan Jansen, 'Epopée, histoire, société. Le cas Soundjata - Mali et Guinée, Paris, Karthala, 2001.

No outsider is admitted during the performance, in a special sacred hut. So, no direct desription by a visiting anthropologist is available, nor any audio- or videorecording. Local people concerned respect secrecy. Nevertheless the text is known and there is good information about the performance and its circomstances. That is thanks to the intensive, patient and comprehensive research of Jansen. He lived for months as a guest in the hut of Lansine, the bard. He interrogated him, interviewed and observed him, in an atmosphere of friendship and mutual respect.

When Jansen brought up the question of an eventual succession of the bard, Lansine made it clear that his successor could hardly be anybody else but the "naamunaamuna'. What is a 'naamunaamuna'? He is the person whose function it is, during the performance, that may take four hours, to say, loud and clear, after each sentence: 'naama'.

'Naama' means in the local language: 'so it is'. Or 'yes, indeed.' Variations of interjections are: 'yes, that is true','of course'. This is why the person who pronounces the interjections is called 'naamunaamuna'.

The interjection has at first sight a pragmatic function, vey similar to the minimal response in a dialogue that turns into a monologue. It happens that in a dialogue, by telephone for instance, one of the two partners speaks on and on, while the other one's role may seem to be reduced to mere listening. Just this is essential: the passive listener is expected to utter a 'hum' every now and then. This little soound is a sign. A sign of obedience to an implicit claim: the speaker wants to hear from the listener that he is still listening and that he gives the speaker permission to continue.

In special situations the minimal response may have another meaning. It can be taken as a sign of agreement. It may mean: 'I agree with what I hear.' I presume that the intervention of the naamunaamuna duriing the ritual of the Sundjata-recitation has both pragmatic functions. It has the meaning of 'we are still lisening' and also 'we agree'. This agreement does more, I think, than the interrupting applauses that can be heard during western opera performances (called 'open doekje' in Dutch). The 'open doekje' means: 'bravo, this is beautiful'. The naamunaamuna says, I think, in the name of the audience: 'this is correct'. He confirms the exactitude of the facts.

These are basic conditions in oral literary communication. The Dutch specialist of oral literature Rosa Knorringa has stated in her book 'Het oor wil ook wat. Over mondelinge literatuur' (Assen, Van Gorcum, 1980): There is in the audience [the Receiver of the Message that is, semiotically speaking] familiarity with the story told and expectation about the fidelity in relation to what is expected.'

Most of the time, especially in relation to traditional performances, the public knows very well what it has a right to expect. We can compare this attitude with that of a child to whom some older person tells a story - a fairy tale for instance - that the child has heard before. The performer is closely observed by his little one-person-public; the storyteller has absolutely no right to change whatsoever to the plot, not even to the style of what this experienced Receiver has heard during earlier sessions.

So, variations are seldom allowed. The performer has a duty of non-originality. This is quite the opposite, in terms of modernism and postmodernisme, of what is expected from the storyteller in written literature.

4. FUNCTION AND VALUE OF ORAL LITERATURE

The important differences between written and oral literature are related to essential differences of reception. Oral literature is mostly 'consumed' collectively. Eventually in the open air. Whereas written literature is received individually. In parts of the world where people isolate themselves as individuals in the most strict sense of the word, behind walls that protect them from the cold and from other people's regards and disturbances, the Receiver of the literary Message strives for a minimal communition situation. Communication? Okay! But exclusively with the sovereign Sender. Alone with him. Protected fom the cold and from other people's presence. Alone with the materialized Message, the book. 'Met een boekje in een hoekje.' That is the ideal situation for the reading westerner.

In countries where the climate is milder, and where, generally speaking, the collectivity comes prior to individuality, conditions are more favourable to the reception of oral literature. Performances of oral literature take place in situations where the Sender is in immediate contact with his Receiver. The collective Receiver usually consists of a group of human beings in front of whom all kinds of non-verbal semiotic systems can be used for functioning. Next to linguistics sign-systems, the oral storyteller can use gestures, mimics, music, dances, changes of voice, all that. His spectrum of semiotic possibilities is infinitely richer, during his live performances, than during simple reading, alone with the written text. There is of course an advantage for readers: for them an immense place is left for imagination.

An audio-recording can give an idea of the reality of the performance and of the semiotic tools utilized. But many aspects are fatally lost. So is the physical appearance of the Sender, so are his facial expresions and gestures. A visual recording can compensate this for a great deal, but never for hundred percent. What can not be heard or shown is the general atmosphere of togetherness, the feelings of all these individuals who constitute the collective Receiver. What can we say about their collective pleasure, their understanding, their feelings of identification?

When peope reckognize together references to shared knowledge, history, traditions, an awareness of cultural coherence is created. This is a phenomenon of undeniable sociosemiotic and sociopsychological importance. Events of this kind have their place in the mental history of a cultural group, a social group, a people. The Belgians revolted against Dutch rule after an opera representation in Brussels in 1830 and won their independence.

The intentions of a writer, Sender of a written Message, are fundamentally different from the intentions of a Sender of an oral Message, a dalang for instance. I would formulte it this way: the writer strives for the transmission of obtained knowledge along the lines of empathy. He has observed the world. Outer world and inner world. He has tried interpretation. He tells about it, expresses himself. The Sender of the oral text (in the widest sense of the word - a dance performance is a 'text' too) transmits a Message with an intention of sympathy. There is a sacred, religious, even magic componenent in the semiosis of performing art. Such a component can be reckognized when we compare global themes in oral literature. Knorringa has advanced that in African oral literature, as well in European orl literature, there is an interest for family-origins. With important differences. More attention for the cruelty of inevitable destiny, for hardship, for power of the mighty, and interest of the clan, in Africa. While in European culture we find as themes: menaces of nature (Germany), intervention of Christian saints (Ireland), victory of the little one thanks to his intelligence (France). There are of course all kinds of overlapping. Talking about the victory of the little one thanks to his intelligence, we think immediately of the Indonesian kancil, small but very smart!

The mythological motives are known by everybody in Asia. There is an immensely rich oral tradition, inspired by popular tradition and by sacred texts, like Mahabarata and Ramayana.

For its reception, written literature is exclusively dependent of language, which is a symbolic sign-system in the sense that Charles Sanders Peirce, founding father of modern semiotics, has given to the word Symbol. A Symbol is a conventional sign. To understand a language, you need to know it. A language is also a code, a complex set of Symbols.

In oral literature, there is an important place for iconic signs. Just look at Semar in the wayang and you know that he is not a prince, like Arjuna. His physical appearance shows it sufficiently. It is the small and vulnerable aspect of Kancil that seduces us, when we see an illustration of him next to the terrible Tige or the cruel Crocodiles. Experienced storyteller can make verbal pictures for us when they tell about Kancil's smart solutions in dangerous situtions. Social and psychological chasraceristics can come to us in oral literature by non-symbolic means. Thanks to the immediate semiotic impact of the iconic sign. The Icon is the sign that functions so effectively, especially in art and literature, on the basis of comparison and resemblance.

No Symbol and no Icon, however, can possibly have its semiotic value or function in absence of the kind of sign that Peirce called Index. The role of Index is differently important in written and in oral literature. In both, the reference to existing, mentally present, knowledge is necessary for understanding. But, whereas written literature has a claim of discovering new truths, oral literature is more oriented, I believe, towards preservation of shared knowledge.

Indexicalitey is contiguity. The indexical sign is a kind of existential 'neighbour'. Index stands to Symbol as a kiss stands to a handshake.

The finger pointing to something, in order to show it, to draw attention to it, is semiotically worthless without this real neigbourhood. If we want to talk a mountain and point a finger at it, the mountain must be there. The pointed finger is called Index in French. That is why the Index is called Index.

It is thanks to indexicality that oral literature can be considered to be an instrument for the conservation of tradition and of shared knowledge. I think that nodbody assisting to a wayang performance ignores the mental attributes associated with the narrative constituants. Arjuna is a noble hero. Semar is a funny servant. He is smart, speaks up, in a funny way, a
bout delicate actuality-issues. When he acts or speaks, the public has no problem in establishing the referential relationship with a well-known reality. There is relief, sympathy and good feeling in the laugh of the audience. If traditional oral literature constitutes a safeguard for a national patrimony, this laugh is a guarantee that it is more than a corpse, a cadaver. It is a living cultural body.

5. INTERPRETATION/METAPHOR

Oral literature has an important didactic value. I found an argument, a very concrete argument, for this hypothesis in the study of Jan Jansen concerning the Sundjata-epic.

I mentioned already that Jansen was not allowed to be present at the sacred and secret performance of the epic in the special hut in Kela. He compensated that by staying as close as possible to the bard Lansine. In the hut of Lansine he witnessed one evening an informal gathering of Lansine with some local youngsters. There was first some music-making. And then, suddenly, the bard started to talk. He told three stories, that referred to different historic moments of the Malinese past.

The first story told from the faraway time of the founding of Kela. The second story was particuraly instructive. It brought the listeners back to colonial times when the French ruled in Mali. In those days, the people of Kela had to pay to the colonial rulers a special tax, every year: a certain quantity of rubber. Therefore the population had to come to a place near the border of the river Niger.

Everybody had to bring his rubber. He who did not bring the required quantity was forced to strip off his clothes and was whipped to the blood. He then was rolled in the sand and thrown in the river. The storyteller of Kela, the griot, in these days had the name Kamissoko. The brother of Kamissoko did not have enough rubber. Kamissoko told him: 'I will take your place.' When his turn cam, the French officer told him to strip naked. Kamissoko refused, saying: 'I'll never strip in front of somebody'. Then, Lansine told, the officer was so impressed by Kamissoko's attitude that he cancelled the tax-duty for the whole village of Kela.

The third story told about an incident in post-colonial days, when an opponent to the regime of a dictatorial Malinese president spoke up against him and then was emprisoned, but thus contributed to the fall of the regime and came free, later.

Jansen asked himself: why did Lansine tell these three stories to the youngsters? The facts were known by everybody present. Why bring them, together in the minds of the young men, among whom maybe there were future successors as official storytellers? After some time Jansen came to the conclusion that Lansine had brought together stories about people who had the courage to tell publicly what they considered to be the truth. They were not scared. The young men could learn that from these narrative heroes.

Meditating about what Jansen wrote about Lansine's stories, especially about the courage shown by Kamissoko, I came to imagine what could have happened to the brave griot, when he offered to take the place of his brother. He could not know beforehand that the French officer would be generous. Kamissoko's act could have turned out to be an awful sacrifice. This reminded me of what I read in the book 'The people of Bali' (1966) by Angela Hobart, Urs Ramsteyn and Albert Leemann. In a chapter called 'Myth and the Artistic Tradition', the authors refer to a wayang-performance in Tegal, Gianyar, Bali, in the 1980s. The dalang, I Ewer, had drawn a story from the old Javanaese poem Sutasoma.

Sutsoma is a mythological prince. When he is in the woods, with his servants Merdah and Thalen, he encounters a female tiger, who is about to devour her own cubs, little ones whose mother she his. Why? Because she is hungry. The scene is described as follows.

Sutasoma: Stop, stop, tigress!
What are you doing?

Merdah: Mother tigress, desist from this wicked act.
Remember you brought them into the world.
You are committing two wrong deeds in ons,
for you are neglecting your two roles:
to be their parent and spiritual teacher.

The other servant, Thalen, then speaks to the audience, saying:
In her hunger, mother Tigress has forgotten that these
are her children.
She no longer knows her limitations.

The servant teaches the public a lesson: hunger may do forget dharma, duty and virtue, that leads to the observation of moral rules. Rules that imply efforts towards limitation of your desires and of your power.

And the a most surprising thing happens. The noble prince Sutasoma offers his body to be eaten by the hungry tigress in stead of the children.

Here is a case where the sacrifice, such as Kamissoko risked, is realized. It is a sacrifice, inspired by wisdom and love. With an implicit reference to dharma.

I think that the admirtion we feel when we read about the noble acts of the Malinese bard Kamissoko and the mythological prince Sutasoma can bring our hearts and minds to the conclusion that these narrative elements ask for a profound interpretation. They are signs of the highest quality. That is to say: they are metaphors.

Metaphors are the most sophisticated iconic signs. Goethe has said: 'Alles Vergängliche ist nur ein Gleichnis'. All material realities in the world lead to comparisons. To metaphorical interpretation, that is. Metaphor is supreme comparison. It brings elements of reality together by likeness. When we bring realities together, when we are aware of relations between elements in reality, when we discover coherences, we come to understanding of things. We can learn from everything that offers itself to interpretation, in our minds and hearts. Everything can teach us a lesson.

Kamissoko learns us not to be afraid to speak up. Sutasomo learns us not to give to an ideology of selfishness, egoism, greed. He teaches us to practice altruism, love, generosity.

In the emotionally intense atmosphere of oral literary performances the possibilities of metaphoric interpretations are manyfold. It is true that errors can easily be made. Especially nowadays, when different cultures confront. The exemple of the ignorance of Maurice Béjart and his dancers showed it. In that case no harm was done. We all know of cases where the harm of wrong interpretation is more serious, because world leaders knew too little of other people's codes and presuppostions. May-be world leaders, before taking decisions that can have serious consequences, should consult semioticians. Or see performances of oral literature.