Latest / The Songhai Empire: Africa's Powerful Forgotten Kingdom — Fexingo History / The Griots of Songhai: Memory, Music, and the Power of the Spoken Word
Transcript
- Lucas: So we've covered the battles, the trade routes, the scholars of Timbuktu. But there's a group of people who kept the whole story alive, who shaped how the empire saw itself, and they weren't generals or qadis. They were the griots. Luna: The storytellers with the kora, right? Lucas: Exactly. And they were so much more than that. In Songhai, and across the Sahel, griots were the living libraries. They memorized genealogies that went back centuries, they knew the praise songs of every king, and they could recite the epic deeds of Sonni Ali and Askia Muhammad like they were reading from a chronicle. But they also served as advisors, diplomats, and sometimes even the conscience of the court. Lucas: The term 'griot' is the French word, but in the Mande languages they're called jeliw. And there's no real English equivalent, because we separate poet, musician, historian, and counselor into different professions. In the Sahel, all of that was one role, and it was inherited. Luna: So it ran in families? Like a guild? Lucas: Very much so. You were born into a griot family, and your training started almost as soon as you could talk. Children would sit with their elders for hours, listening to the same epics over and over, until the rhythm and the names became second nature. By the time they were teenagers, they could perform for hours without a single prompt. It was a discipline that demanded incredible memory and a command of language. Lucas: And this wasn't just entertainment. When Ibn Battuta visited the Mali Empire in the 1350s, he described griots at the court wearing masks and costumes, performing songs of praise that moved the king to tears. But they also had the license to criticize, to use satire and pointed words to curb a ruler's pride. That was a risky privilege, because they could be punished, but it was also seen as essential to good governance. Luna: So they were like the court jesters who actually had power. Lucas: In a way, yes. But their power went deeper. They were the keepers of the dynastic memory. When a new king took the throne, it was the griot who recited the lineage that legitimized his rule. When a dispute arose between clans, it was the griot who could recall the old agreements and boundaries. They were the constitutional court, in a sense, but with a much better soundtrack. Lucas: Now, in Songhai specifically, we know from the Tarikh al-Sudan that griots were attached to the royal court in Gao. They accompanied the army on campaigns, recording victories for posterity. And they were present at the major ceremonies, like the Enshrining of the Askiya, when Askia Muhammad took power in 1493. The chronicle mentions the griots singing his praises and those of his predecessor, Sonni Ali, even though Askia Muhammad had just overthrown Ali's son. Luna: That's interesting — praising the man he just deposed? That seems like a delicate situation. Lucas: It really was. And it shows how the griots had to walk a line between honoring tradition and serving the new regime. They didn't just erase the past; they incorporated it into a new narrative that made Askia Muhammad seem like the rightful heir to Sonni Ali's legacy. That kind of political alchemy was the griot's craft. They were masters of framing. Lucas: And they were also masters of the instruments. The kora, with its twenty-one strings, and the ngoni, a plucked lute, were the tools of their trade. The music wasn't just decoration — it helped create a meditative state for both the performer and the audience, making the stories more vivid and memorable. The rhythm of the music was tied to the rhythm of the words, so the entire performance was a single, unbroken stream of sound and story. Luna: It's like they had a built-in mnemonic engine. Lucas: That's a perfect way to put it. And this is why oral tradition in West Africa is so detailed and so robust. It's not just someone reciting from memory; it's a crafted, musical performance that's designed to be remembered. Scholars have found that griot epics can preserve remarkably accurate details over centuries, even if they also contain legendary elements. It's a blend of history and myth, and the griots are the ones who decide where the line lies. Lucas: One of the most famous griot families in the Mande world is the Kouyate, and a member of that family, Djeli Mamoudou Kouyate, was the one who performed the Epic of Sundiata to the Guinean scholar Djibril Tamsir Niane in the 1960s. That epic tells the story of the founder of the Mali Empire, and it's a masterpiece of oral literature. But similar epics existed for Sonni Ali and Askia Muhammad, even if they weren't transcribed in the same way. Luna: So do we have any of those Songhai epics today, or did they get lost? Lucas: That's a great question. The Tarikh al-Sudan and the Tarikh al-Fattash, written in the seventeenth century, are our main written sources, and they clearly rely on oral traditions. But the actual griot performances of those epics weren't written down. The tradition continued, but it evolved. After the fall of Songhai, the griots adapted their stories to the new political realities, and some of those narratives survived in the oral histories of the Songhai people today. But it's not a direct line to the empire. The modern griot tradition has been shaped by centuries of change. Luna: So their role was so vital that they just kept going, even after the empire collapsed. Lucas: Exactly. And that's a testament to their resilience. The griots outlived the emperors. They became symbols of cultural identity in a time when the political order was fragmented. In many ways, they were the glue that held the Sahelian societies together through the centuries of upheaval after 1591. Lucas: And speaking of resilience, it's worth stepping back for a moment. We've been doing these deep dives into Songhai for a while now, and we're always struck by how much of this history is carried not just in written documents but in living traditions. That's one of the reasons we do this podcast — to share that depth with you. And we're able to keep it ad-free because of the listeners who support us. If you feel like tipping us, the link is buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. No pressure, but it helps us keep going. Luna: Yeah, it really does make a difference. And it's nice to know that the show stays clean of clutter. Lucas: Right. So back to the griots. Their influence wasn't just in the court. They were also present at weddings, funerals, and initiation ceremonies, marking the big moments of ordinary people's lives. They were the public memory of the community, and their presence was sought for almost any important event. Lucas: Their social status was ambiguous, though. On one hand, they were honored and feared for their words. On the other, they were often considered part of a lower caste, and in some societies they couldn't own land or marry outside their group. That paradox is tricky to understand from a modern perspective, but it reflects a deep-seated belief that the griot's power had to be contained, even as it was essential. Luna: It sounds like they were simultaneously indispensable and marginalized. Lucas: That's the paradox, yes. And it's a common pattern in many African societies where the keepers of oral tradition are seen as holding a kind of sacred power. They're the guardians of the collective memory, but that memory is also a kind of weapon, so they're kept at arm's length. Lucas: Now, in the Songhai Empire specifically, we have references to griots in the royal entourage of Sonni Ali. He was known for his military prowess and his sometimes harsh treatment of the ulema, the Muslim scholars. But he seems to have relied on his griots to boost morale before battles. They would recite the heroic deeds of past warriors, reminding the soldiers what they were fighting for. That kind of psychological preparation was crucial in an era when morale could be the difference between victory and defeat. Luna: So they were like motivational speakers with a repertoire of epic poetry. Lucas: Exactly. And they also served as messengers in war. Because they had to memorize long dispatches and deliver them verbatim, they were the ideal couriers for sensitive negotiations. A griot could be sent to a rival king with a complex proposal, and he'd recite it perfectly, without altering a single word. That's a level of trust that's hard to imagine today. Lucas: The griots were also responsible for praising the king in public, but they could also use that platform to shame him into good behavior. There's a story from the earlier Mali Empire where a griot recited a poem to the king that, on the surface, was a praise song, but it contained a hidden critique of the king's failure to protect his people. The king understood the implication and was moved to change his ways. That's the kind of subtlety that griots were masters of. Luna: So they were political commentators as much as historians. Lucas: Definitely. And that's why their training was so rigorous. They had to be able to navigate the treacherous waters of court politics while maintaining their credibility. If they were seen as just flatterers, they lost their power. If they were too critical, they could be banished or worse. It was a delicate balance. Lucas: And the tradition didn't die out with the empire. In modern Mali, Senegal, and Guinea, you still have griot families performing the old epics, and they're still called upon to praise chiefs and politicians, to officiate at weddings, and to preserve the history of their communities. The kora has become a beloved instrument worldwide, but it's still deeply tied to the griot heritage. Luna: It's amazing that something so ancient is still so alive. Lucas: It is. And it raises a profound question: what is history, really? Is it just what's written down, or is it the living memory that's passed from one generation to the next? The griots challenge us to think about that. They show us that history is not just a record of events but a relationship with the past, one that's continually re-created and reinterpreted. Lucas: And perhaps that's the most valuable lesson we can take from them. As we try to understand the Songhai Empire, we have to acknowledge that our written sources are incomplete, and that the oral traditions, even if they're not always factually perfect, carry a truth that's just as important. They tell us about the values, the fears, and the aspirations of the people who lived through those times. Luna: So the griots are not just remnants of the past but a living bridge to it. Lucas: Exactly. And I think that's a beautiful way to think about history in general. So next time you hear a kora melody, remember that you're hearing the voice of an ancient tradition that once held the Songhai Empire together. Luna: I'll never hear the kora the same way again. Lucas: And that's the best we can hope for.