We Gambians have not been endowed with substantial material wealth in most of
our history, our cultural identity which is a mosaic of varying subcultures
has nonetheless endured in some form over the years with it's basic tenets
surviving the hazards inherent in oral traditions. Families and communities
have successfully held onto and passed aspects of our cultural anthropology
that speaks to our very essence as a people. Often times these practices form
the very basis of a community with birth, life and death all revolving around
it. The adaptive nature of the practices also meant interaction within the
cultural mosaic of the various ethnic groups is smooth and uneventful. That
is why we increasingly share a greater national identity than a tribal one
because a Mandinka who marries a Fula and settle's in an Aku town can claim
no definitive tribal identity, because his part of the Gambian experience
would be shaped by all three subcultures.If this Mandinka also maintains a
second home in a Wollof village, then another spectrum is added to this
wonderful mosaic. As a child of the afore stated example, I'd like to share
my take on our culture as I experienced it growing up in Georgetown and
Demfai 15miles northeast of the Island. My real reason is to remind list
members of what I believe we have lost of our culture in these changing
times. It is neither an attempt to turn back the clock to days that would
never be back nor is it an indictment of us as a people. I just hope we can
all take a while to look at a national trend that has the potential of
shrouding our culture and ultimate identity leaving the next generation with
something dangling between pseudo-modernity and a disappearing original
culture.
     The Georgetown I grew up in was a pleasant midsize town that was to a
large extent a reflection of our country as a whole. It was culturally
diverse attracting a cross section of our people. As a center of government,
commerce and agriculture, there was relative prosperity that augured well for
the culture that undergirded the various communities. The Mandinka aspect of
the culture revolved principally around  the Kankurang. We love our Kankurang
and fancy ourselves as cultural custodians of the legends of the Kankurang.We
have different categories and types of Kankurangs   complete with lines of
people who can be "put out" as Kankurangs. Different events require different
Kankurangs. We have the pure social Kankurangs that are for events such as
weddings, welcoming ceremonies for visiting dignitaries, politicians,
Christmas and other holidays. These tend to be part of a drumming assemble
that also has a Sewruba component with the drummers alternating between the
Kankurang and the women dancers who also also provide complimentary clapping
and vocals for the songs. The second type of Kankurang is the one associated
with the rituals of circumcision. Circumcision in the Georgetown I grew up in
is a monumentally important rite of passage for all males. Held during summer
holidays it is a huge community affair involving dozens of kids living in
camps in town at night while spending the days in the bush. It usually last
for four weeks during which the circumcised are ostensibly thought lessons of
life using techniques that are less than savory. The kankurangs associated
with this tend to be fierce and less social. Infact throughout the weeks that
the circumcised are encamped, these solitary Kankurangs enforce a defacto
curfew in the town forcing folks to literally run from the movie theater to
their homes. They risk rough treatment from these self described exorcists
who legend has it protects the circumcised from the machinations of witches.
I later learned it was sometimes abused by individuals to settle personal
scores. Somehow the relative harshness of the period of the circumcision is
overtaken by the euphoria and great joy on the day they "come out" of the
ritual encampment. All of the kids are paraded in their white gowns which by
the end of their stay has become brown with dirt across town to a designated
spot toward the end of the Island. There they are ceremonially and literally
washed in the river accompanied by their designated chaperones and a special
Kankurang and drumming. Once they are back in town, each child is then
escorted to his parents house from which they have been absent for the
duration of their encampment (one month). The Happy parents then hands over
new cloths which is always a brightly colored Chaya and a a traditionally
weaved shirt with a matching hat. There would also be an assortment of beads
and tiny bells hung all over the boys body. Those who can often slaughter a
sheep and cook a big meals for visiting family and friends. The climax of the
days event is the evening dance of the circumcised held at a central
location. All of the kids are escorted by chaperones and family members and
once they reach the arena, the kids all congregate in the middle of the
gathering. Each of the kids takes his turn for a ritual dance he has spent a
lot of time in the camps learning. After a five minute dance, he bows down
while family members race to him and shower with cash. The cash is the final
reward to the designated chaperone who by traditions keeps it all. The
festivities continue into the night with some of the chaperones taking the
party to more adult abodes like the towns numerous watering holes. The
Mansuwankas who form a significant minority bring a unique cultural dimension
to our
Georgetown experience. Originally from Guinea Bissau, they brought the Sikko
genre of drumming and contributed immensely to the social fabric of the town.
Being an original Aku town, strong Christian traditions remained part of the
town's culture. We would make Fanals during Christmas and had Easter parties.
The town's enduring liberal attitudes towards social drinking for example is
partly a function of it's rich history of Christianity and non Muslim
traditions.
        Our second home Demfai on the other hand was a conservative Wollof
village with a Fula minority.Infact ours was the only Mandinka home in the
whole village. It is a closeknit community where life generally revolved the
family and the farm. Villagers got along exceedingly well and tended to
community affairs effectively. Except for one instance , there was generally
no intermarriage between the Fulas and the Wollofs with each marrying from
their respective tribes from outlying villages. Interestingly enough the
traditions of the two communities are essentially the same . They both get
married early in life often late teens for the men and very early teens for
the girls. It begins with a relative taking notice of a perspective girl and
arranging for a suitor to pay an exploratory visit. The suitor would often
take along a few friends, A cassette player and some attaya and money. He
would then send word via an intermediary that he would like to schedule a
'chat'. If he gets preliminary approval he and his friends put on their
bestclothes and set off. If the place isa short hike they will just walk but
if the distance is long they would hook up a horse cart, dash to the place
usually arriving in the early evening. The objectof the visit would have also
informed her friends of the pending"chat' and they too would make
arrangements to finish all their chores and be in their best. The very public
get acquainted chat happens in the house of the girls mother with the guy and
his crew on one side of the room and the girl and hers on the other. The guys
friends do their best to break the ice by cranking up the music and horsing
around with the girls freinds. The girl and her suitor tend to act dignified
and reserved each trying to size up the other and attempting leave a great
impression. This is understandable because a lot rides on these crucial first
hours. Cool is the operative word. I have seen perspective suitors start
smoking on these first public dates thinking that was somehow impressive. At
the end of the evening, the suitor surreptitiously slips some money under the
girls pillow and disappear into the night with his friends.If enough of an
impression is left, word quickly gets back to the suitor and then begins
years long courtship culminating in a huge weedings often the most expensive
undertaking for a man . Sadly though not enough support is rendered to the
girl once she is in the man's home. A few years down the road he will pursue
another one  and then another. That is why at about age 50 most of the women
are tired old grandmothers with little or no property.
      The periodic area wrestling matches are a much anticipated cultural
event. Like the circumcisions in Georgetown, they are a literal rite of
passage for young adults in that general area. Surrounding villages are
generally notified by word of mouth and the selected days tended to fall on
full moon nights. The villagers would gather firewood to add to the
illumination of the bright moon. Some of the spectators arrived early in the
village but most of the delegations from the "Tundu" (vernacular for outlying
villages) would arrive as a grouping. Each of them try to make a triumphant
and distinct mode of entry. They all had their star wrestlers who engendered
much admiration and would often have dedicated songs cut out for them. You
could hear them singing in piercing baritones as they approach the main venue
at the center of the village. Each village stakes a position from the
makeshift arena and the drumming crew would cater to all of them as they get
ready. They would dance and taunt the other wrestlers and soon the duels
would begin. Each team has wrestlers, dancers, handlers who often carried the
charms and chanted praises of their contestants. It would go on up to the wee
hours of the morning. Occasionally tempers would flare and a few fist fights
ensue but it was generally a fun filled evening.
     I recount all of this with a tremendous sense of nostalgia. I consider
myself very lucky to have grown up in such a great cultural bonanza. In their
totality they helped shape me into whatever I am today. I view culture not as
a single seminal aspect, but an amalgamation spanning a specific period at a
specific place. They best way to preserve culture is through successfully
living it and handing it down to the next generation. Today our people are
too hungry, too tired, too poor and ultimately uninterested in the
preservation of our culture. People don't wrestle in Demfai anymore.
Georgetown is shell of a town with very dim prospects for it's survival as a
town. It is really sad.
Karamba

<<//\\>>//\\<<//\\>>//\\<<//\\>>//\\<<//\\>>//\\<<//\\>>

To view archives of postings, go to the Gambia-L Web interface
at: http://maelstrom.stjohns.edu/archives/gambia-l.html
To contact the List Management, please send an e-mail to:
[log in to unmask]

<<//\\>>//\\<<//\\>>//\\<<//\\>>//\\<<//\\>>//\\<<//\\>>