The Gem: The Madness and Joy of Sourcing in Tariku

Tariku is the word used to refer to the collective body of epic literature kept orally by the jelilu- the hereditary bards of Manden. This project is the culmination of almost twenty years of my study of this truly singular art. The study of tariku is the most beautiful of infinities. It is like holding in one’s hand a flawless gem of many facets, and turning it, over and over, in the light. When I first began this work, I lamented the discrepancies between the accounts of different jelilu. If I asked, for example, about one of my favorite characters, Fakoly, one jeli might say, “The father of Fakoly was none other than Jinna Maghan- Lord of the Jinn! Fakoly was half jinn and half human. That is why he was the greatest sorcerer who ever lived!“

Another, presented with this statement, scoffed “Preposterous! Who told you that? Some liar after your money, no doubt. You should be more careful who you consult. How could you, an educated person, believe such nonsense? Of course, Fakoly was a flesh and blood human being, and so was his father- Makanta Jigi Koroma.”

“Jeliba,” I would reply, “are you saying that the jinna do not exist?”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous! Of course the jinna exist!”

The inconsistencies were maddening. and I longed for “The One True History”. A lot of print versions and verbatim transcriptions of tariku recitation seem to claim that they are it. Each seems to fasten itself to the account of one august authority, and much is made of touting that authority’s credentials to assure the reader that they are getting “The Official Version”.

But as I collect more and more versions from more and more jelilu, I am beginning to see these “discrepancies” as something else- as the real genius of the way the Manden jelilu have structured and disseminated this text over the centuries. In writing the script for this podcast and TV series and referencing all of these different sources I’ve collected over the years, a structure emerged that was familiar to me. Richard Dillard, my favorite professor in grad school, taught a course on the modern novel. In it, he talked about the difference between a “closed text” and an “open text” as different ways to structure a narrative. As I google search the term now to refresh my memory, I see that the concept comes from Umberto Eco’s collection of essays The Role of the Reader, and I remember now that Richard talked about it in the context of reading Eco’s The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loanna. But let me see if I can come up with some less nerdy examples for people.

The closed text is what we might all be familiar with as audience members- the storyteller has one intended interpretation that the audience is meant to arrive at regarding the events of the story. We as audience members might differ on how we feel about those events, how we interpret their larger philosophical meaning, or what sort of larger message about life or the human experience we think the storyteller might be making- the “moral” of the story, in other words. The plot, though, the stuff we actually saw happen on the screen, is pretty much agreed upon. For example, different fans of Game of Thrones might like or dislike how the series ended. You might even get some fan theories about what little “easter eggs” in the ending might slightly change the meaning of it or imply about spin-off stories in the future. But most folks pretty much agree on what actually happened in the last episode.

In an open text, however, this is not so. Open texts are set up so that multiple interpretations of what actually happens in the story are possible. Many of us (depending on our age, I guess) might have watched a DVD that offered “alternate endings” as one of the special features. Imagine that film offering not only alternate endings, but multiple alternate plots, and you’ve got some idea of how an open text works. Another example might be those Choose Your Own Adventure books folks of my generation read as kids. The thing that’s cool about an open text is that there’s much more of a collaboration between the audience and the storyteller. You and the author or screenwriter or whoever’s telling the story decide together both what happens and what that means, and if it’s done right, this can make for a much richer storytelling experience for everyone involved.

So here’s the cool thing about the tariku, and why I think the Manden Tariku is one of the greatest bodies of literature in all world history. I think it’s actually meant to be read as an open text. The way it’s structured, it’s both a closed text and an open text at the same time. Each individual jeli will almost always frame his account as a “closed text”. Jelilu are at great pains to do this, for totally understandable reasons. Having exclusive knowledge of these events was and still is how they put food on the table. It’s their secret sauce, and if they want to beat the competition, they’ve got to talk it up as the best in town. For this reason, you’ll often hear recitations of tariku beginning with the jeli talking up his credentials, and telling you why you should buy his version of events. This is also one of the most credible explanations as to why the jelilu choose not to write these things down. Probably my favorite example of this is the jeli Mamoudou Kouyate’s introduction at the beginning of D.T. Niane’s classic Sundiata: An Epic of Old Mali. Here it is:

“My word is pure and free of all untruth; it is the word of my father; it is the word of my father’s father. I will give you my father’s words just as I received them; royal griots do not know what lying is.” (Kouyate in Niane, 1).

I get chills down my spine every time I read that. But here’s the thing. No jeli could have ever assumed that his version of events was the only one his patrons would have heard. Even in the medieval period, the Empire was huge! Different versions were being told all the time by other jelilu from different families in different towns or regions who would have had minimal contact with one another, and in the modern era these things are even being broadcast on TV and radio. Not only that, but we have plenty of evidence in audio recordings and faithful transcriptions of even the same jeli changing his own story from one performance to the next. Like any good storyteller, a jeli has to be sensitive to his audience, and will often try to tailor his performance to them. This gets particularly complicated with Mandenkalu audiences for reasons I’ll get into in a later episode. He might also incorporate new information from additional study he’s done between performances. So although each individual performance of tariku is very much its own closed text, each audience member has the option of comparing and contrasting it against any other performances they’ve heard or end up hearing in the future, filling in sections of the plot or entire characters that are present in some versions and absent in others, and essentially creating for themselves their own unique version of the story in their mind.

This is the true beauty of the tariku as I see it now. Going back to my metaphor of the gem, each time one has the opportunity to sit at the feet of a great jeli and ask, “N Fa, tell me of the circumstances of Fakoly’s birth….”, or “Tell me how Sumaoro received his legendary bala…” one turns a different facet of the gem to the light, and a new facet of the story is revealed. To seek the “Official Version” or to subscribe to one recounting, however authoritative the source, is to miss out on most of the story.

In deciding how to structure Sunjata as an audio and TV series, I knew I had to find a way to handle this “problem of discrepancies”. I found my answer in one of the most famous examples of an open text- Akita Kurosawa’s classic, Rashomon.

For those who haven’t seen the film, it is essentially a murder mystery with no resolution. Several different testimonies are given by several different witnesses, each problematic in its own way, and none ever indicated in the film as “The Truth”. Each time a witness gives her or his version of events, we see them unfold in flashbacks according to that witnesses testimony. We see the same events several times over, and yet each time, we see it differently. This is how I have chosen to present Sunjata to you. I myself am not of Manden. Among all the great jelilu under whom I have apprenticed, all the great scholars whom I have read, who am I to decide who is right and wrong? And who am I to deny you all the facets of the priceless gem that is the tariku?