Latest / Mansa Musa: The Richest Man Who Ever Lived — Fexingo History / Mansa Musa's Court Poets: The Jeliw Who Sang Empire
Transcript
- Lucas: So we've talked a lot about Mansa Musa's gold, his mosques, his armies — but there's one group at his court that we haven't really touched on, and they were arguably just as important as any farba or qadi. Luna: Who's that? Lucas: The jeliw — the hereditary praise-singers and oral historians. In the Mande world, they were the living memory of the empire. They could recite the lineage of every mansa going back to Sundiata Keita, and they did it with music, with poetry, with a kind of rhythmic intensity that could make or break a ruler's reputation. Lucas: If you've been stepping into history with us episode by episode, you might know that we keep this show ad-free and listener-supported. It's a small thing, but honestly, if today was worth a coffee to you, that's the link — buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. Luna: Yeah, it really helps keep the conversations going. And speaking of conversations — the jeliw were the original podcasters in a way, preserving stories for generations. Lucas: Exactly. So the word jeli — singular of jeliw — comes from the Mande root 'to sing' or 'to praise.' But it's way more than that. A jeli was a genealogist, a historian, a diplomat, and often a musician. They trained for years, memorizing not just names and dates but entire epic narratives, like the Epic of Sundiata, which is still performed today. Luna: Were they attached to specific courts? Lucas: Yes. Every major mansa had a retinue of jeliw. They lived at court, and they were supported by the state — part of the farba system, actually. The farba were provincial governors, and they were expected to host and reward jeliw who passed through. If a farba was stingy, the jeli could compose a satire that would ruin his reputation. So the jeliw had real power, even though they weren't warriors or administrators. Lucas: Their main instrument was the kora — a 21-string bridge-harp made from a large calabash cut in half and covered with cowhide. The sound is beautiful, almost like a harp but with a percussive edge. And they'd sing in a call and response style, with the jeli leading and the courtiers echoing. Luna: I've heard recordings of kora music — it's mesmerizing. So what would a typical praise song for Mansa Musa sound like? Lucas: It would start with his ancestry — 'Mansa Musa, son of Faga Laye, grandson of Sundiata Keita, the lion of Mali...' — and then describe his deeds: his hajj, his building projects, his justice. The jeli would weave in proverbs and metaphors, comparing Musa to a river that never runs dry, or a baobab tree that shelters all. It wasn't just flattery; it was a kind of political theology. The jeli's words actually helped maintain the mansa's baraka, his spiritual authority. Luna: So if the jeli stopped praising you, you'd lose legitimacy? Lucas: Exactly. There's a famous story from the Tarikh al-Sudan about a jeli who refused to sing for a mansa because he felt the ruler had broken a sacred oath. The mansa had to make amends before the jeli would perform. So the jeliw were not just entertainers — they were checks on power. Their memory was also a legal record. If there was a dispute over land or lineage, the jeli's recitation was considered evidence. Lucas: Now, this is where it gets interesting for our understanding of Mansa Musa. The written sources we have — al-Umari, Ibn Battuta, the Tarikh al-Sudan — they give us a lot. But the jeliw's oral tradition is a parallel archive. Unfortunately, no jeli's words from the 14th century were written down at the time. The earliest transcriptions of Sundiata's epic come from the 20th century. So we have to be careful: we can use the jeliw traditions to fill gaps, but we can't take them as literal fact. Luna: Right — like, the jeliw might have exaggerated to flatter their patrons. Lucas: Exactly. And that's part of their function. But when you compare the jeliw's version of Mansa Musa's hajj with al-Umari's account, there are some remarkable consistencies. For instance, the jeliw say that Musa brought so much gold to Cairo that the price of gold crashed and never fully recovered — which matches what al-Maqrizi wrote. So there's a core of historical truth embedded in the poetry. Lucas: The jeliw also preserved the names of Musa's farbas, his generals, his wives — details that don't appear in any written source. For example, the jeliw name his chief general as Farba Bureima, who we mentioned in the Mossi episode. That name comes from oral tradition, not from any Arabic manuscript. Luna: So the jeliw are essentially the reason we know about these people at all. Lucas: Yes. And they're also the reason the Mande identity survived the collapse of the Mali Empire. After the empire fragmented, the jeliw kept singing the epic of Sundiata and the glory of Mansa Musa. They became the glue that held Mande culture together, passing stories from father to son for centuries. Even today, in Mali and Guinea, there are families of jeliw who can trace their lineage back to the 13th century. Luna: That's incredible. Were the jeliw exclusively men, or were there women too? Lucas: Mostly men, but there were female jeliw — called jelimusow — who specialized in singing at women's ceremonies, like weddings and naming ceremonies. They had their own repertoire of songs and were highly respected. But the big epic narratives were typically performed by men. Lucas: One of the most famous jeliw in Mansa Musa's court was a man named Bala Fasseke, according to oral tradition. He was said to have composed the first version of the Epic of Sundiata. Musa himself was a patron of the arts, and he brought jeliw with him on his hajj. Imagine the scene: a caravan of thousands, and at the front, a jeli strumming a kora and singing the praises of the mansa as they crossed the Sahara. Luna: That must have been such a powerful sight — and sound. Lucas: Absolutely. And when they arrived in Cairo, the Egyptians were baffled. They'd never seen anything like it. The historian al-Umari, who interviewed people who met Musa in Cairo, notes that the mansa was accompanied by 'singers who recited his genealogy and his deeds.' He doesn't give details, but it's clear the jeliw made an impression. Lucas: Now, there's a bit of a controversy among historians about how much we can rely on oral tradition. Some scholars, like the Malian historian D. T. Niane, argue that the jeliw's memories are remarkably accurate over centuries. Others are more skeptical, pointing out that each performance is shaped by the present. But I think the truth is somewhere in between. The jeliw are not tape recorders, but they're not fabulists either. They're artists working with historical material. Luna: So when we talk about Mansa Musa, we're really hearing two voices — the Arabic chroniclers and the Mande jeliw. Lucas: Exactly. And both are trying to make sense of this incredible figure. The jeliw, for their part, emphasize his generosity, his piety, and his connection to Sundiata. They tell a story that Musa once gave away so much gold that his own treasury was empty, but then God filled it again. That's a moral tale, not a financial report. Luna: It reminds me of the legend of King Midas, but in reverse — everything he touched turned to generosity. Lucas: Ha, yes. And the jeliw also have a darker side: they sing about the wars Musa fought, the enemies he crushed. There's a line in one praise song that goes, 'Mansa Musa, the lion who devours the other lions.' So the jeliw balanced praise with a reminder of the mansa's power. It was a delicate dance. Lucas: What's fascinating is that the jeliw tradition continues to evolve. In the 20th century, kora players like Toumani Diabaté and Sidiki Diabaté became world-famous. They're descendants of the jeliw, and they still perform the old songs, but they also adapt them. So in a way, Mansa Musa's court poets are still singing, just with a global audience. Luna: That's beautiful — a living tradition that connects us directly to the 14th century. Lucas: Exactly. And it's a reminder that history isn't just written in books. It's sung, it's played, it's passed down in ways that don't fit neatly into our categories. The jeliw were the memory of the Mali Empire, and thanks to them, Mansa Musa's name still echoes across the Sahel. Luna: I'm curious — do we know if any specific jeli songs from Mansa Musa's time have survived in recognizable form? Lucas: That's a great question. We don't have direct transcriptions, but some of the core praise phrases — like 'Kanku Musa' — appear in modern performances. The epic of Sundiata, which was composed in the 13th century, is still performed with sections that may date back to Musa's era. So there's continuity, but it's hard to pinpoint exact lines. Lucas: The jeliw also have a concept called 'the word of the ancestors' — they believe that the words they sing are not their own but are channeled from the past. That gives their performances a sacred quality. When a jeli sings the name of Mansa Musa, they're not just reciting history; they're invoking his spirit. In Mande culture, to speak a name is to make that person present. Luna: Wow. That puts a whole new layer on the phrase 'praise song.' Lucas: It does. And it's why the jeliw were so central to Mansa Musa's court. They weren't just courtiers; they were the custodians of his legacy. And in a world without mass media, that legacy was literally in their hands and voices. So next time you hear a kora recording, remember — you're listening to the echo of an empire. Luna: I will. Thanks, Lucas. Lucas: Always a pleasure.