Introduction

When the Berlin Conference, organized by a league of European nations to compartmentalize

and colonize the continent of Africa, came to an end in 1885, what was to follow shocked the

rest of the world and shook the very foundations of Africa, leaving in its wake cataclysmic

reverberations that resonate on till date. What must have appeared to be a blatantly economic and

social intent about the colonial oppression turned out to be a psychological drill.

Although the colonial enterprise did not succeed in a total westernization of African countries as

posited by Asiedu (2013), they left an overwhelming debris which has cluttered the vision to

reinstating African nations into formidable independent economic, socio-spiritual, and cultural

hubs with a negotiating hand in current multi-disciplinary global exchange. Here, unique cultural

identity becomes essential and thus renders the concept of hybridized societies as posited by

some African scholars a hard ball to tackle. Any attempt at rebuilding African ideological

frameworks for development has been thwarted by the same external forces who still have the

African continent as their life support and this perhaps leads to the phenomenon of neo-

colonialism.

This undertaking will attempt to examine evidence of the effects of colonial encounter as

explored in Soyinka’s Death and the King’s Horseman and Zakes Mda’s You Fool, How Can the

Sky Fall?

In Death and the King’s Horseman, Soyinka is preoccupied with metaphysics, with continuity

and the issues of life and death as they affect the spirit of community. Soyinka tries to warn
critics and producers against an ideological interpretation of the play – against ‘the facile tag of

clash of cultures’:

The colonial factor is an incident, a catalytic incident merely. The confrontation in the play is largely

metaphysical, contained in the human vehicle which is Elesin Oba, and the universe of the Yoruba mind –

the world of the living, the dead and the unborn and the numinous passage which links all: transition.

The plot of the play is tailored around events leading to the ritual death of the chief courtier of an

Alafin of Oyo who is about to be buried. Elesin Oba is required by custom to die in order to

accompany the king on his way to the spirit world. Elesin however decides to marry a virgin girl

and in this blends funeral drums with wedding celebrations. The result is Elesin impregnating the

virgin bride. Coming out of the bridal bed, he states that he has bridged the gap between the

ancestors, the living, and the unborn ensuring continuity of the bloodline:

“… It is no more virgin stain. But the union of life and the seeds of passage. My vital flow, the last from

this flesh is intermingled with the promise of future life. (Death and the King’s Horseman, p. 40).

Elesin however is unable to die by an act of choice. He is to be helped by the unknowing District

officer who’s disgusted by the ritual and only interested in keeping good appearances for the

visiting prince. He arrests Elesin preventing him from performing the ritual. The resulting

tragedy for the entire community comes when Olunde, Elesin’s son who had returned from

studies abroad, repudiates his father and dies to restore harmony in the community. Elesin

commits suicide instead, which will have him trailing dung and serving his son in the ancestral

realm.

The setting of the action of the play is a market square which is both a spiritual and commercial

centre of the community, which according Obafemi (1996) opens the discourse to encompass

what is material other than the strict metaphysical connotation Soyinka solicits for.
Rodney (1972) posits that “When two societies of different sorts come into prolonged and

effective contact, the rate and character of change taking place in both is seriously affected to the

extent that entirely new patterns are created…”. The playwright; as the mouth piece of a society,

and as an individual is tasked by way of chosen inclination to find the identity of himself through

community, protect and safe guard his community and his own salvation (enshrined in the

philosophies and culture of his society) as deliberated by Armah (2000) in The Healers.

Soyinka perhaps treads this path of the playwright when he insists that Death and the King’s

Horseman be treat as a metaphysical contemplation on the passage of rites (as explicitly detailed

in his author’s note) and perhaps a means of identification for him.

Rodney further submits that two observations are made when the two societies come into

contact.

“Firstly, the weaker of the two societies (i.e the one with less economic capacity) is bound to be adversely

affected and the bigger the gap between the two societies concerned the more detrimental are the

consequences... Secondly, assuming that the weaker society does survive, ultimately it can resume its own

independent development only if it proceeds to a level higher than that of the economy which had

previously dominated it.” (1972, p.12).

It is Rodney’s second submission that the thrust of Soyinka’s will be discussed. It suggestive of

cultural agenda underscoring Soyinka’s play as well the used language.

The play Death and the King’s Horseman is preceded by an Author’s note which prescribes a

series of observances to allow for efficient portrayal of the play. This presents the play as a ritual

of sorts which is akin to Turner’s (1977) description of ritual process in Central Africa; in this

instance Soyinka becomes ‘a master of ceremony’ ushering the producers (initiands) into

proceedings for fulfilling a certain social ritual. Soyinka’s triumph according the play’s epigraph
is “in evoking the mystery and ritual of Yoruba life, … and in giving it a palpable and breath-

taking theatrical form, in striking contrast to the desiccated life-style of the colonials.” This is

suggestive of an already existing form in writing in that period which Soyinka chose to shun.

Obafemi (1996) asserts that for Soyinka, revolution is ritualistic in nature, and since theatre is the

most ‘revolutionary art form known to man’ (being performance and audience), ritual and myth

should be integrated to the revolutionary potential of a play:

Ritual contains its own stringent dialectic: it is not merely a visual decorative framework… And in seeking

the revolutionary dynamic of theatre today, trying to move away from what you might consider has become

the bourgeois form of theatre, we may say perhaps that the goal at which we are all vaguely aiming is that

point where the cementing communal roots of theatre are made one with the liberating direction of the

present …

In his submission towards the clash of cultures, it seems Soyinka is convinced of the

incomparable richness of the African cultural paradigms and feels this assertion is not up for

discussion. A ‘clash of cultures’ levels the playing field for equals which Soyinka finds

ridiculous. The ideological foundations are not comparable as evidenced in the dialogue below:

Pilkings is concerned that Prince’s visit is not interrupted, and in a mixture of ignorance of, and contempt

for the cultural practices of the people, arrests the Elesin.

Pilkings: The light in the leaves, the peace of the night …

Elesin: The night is not at peace, D.O.

Pilkings: No? I would have said it was, you know, quiet.

Elesin: And does quiet mean peace for you?

Pilkings: Well, nearly the same thing. Naturally, there is a subtle difference…

Elesin: The night is not at peace, ghostly one. The night is not at peace. You have shattered the peace of the

world for ever. There is no peace in the world tonight. (Death and the King’s Horseman, p. 61).
Calling Pilkings ‘ghostly one’ is perchance an affirmation of the catalytic nature Soyinka talks

of. An insignificant apparition that comes to tumble the reality and cosmic flow of the sane man

and his society. And this is also suggestive of the alien cultures that infiltrated the African

universe, portraying them as lacking substance, illusory and perhaps inferior if not… to the

existing culture.

Obafemi writes that “Harmony can only be achieved in this spiritually wholesome universe

through a well ordered and well executed ritual observance as accepted by the people …”. And

to Soyinka, a break of the link between the dead and the living is a disruption of transition. Here

Soyinka conceivably bemoans the broken link between Africa’s cosmic connected past and its

disoriented present facilitated by the unsolicited interruption of transmission of intergenerational

knowledge by the colonial enterprise. The ritual death (represented the Not-I bird) for Soyinka is

the only way to ensure transition. Elesin however shows how farmers, government officials,

Muslims, Christians and Ifa Priest are all running away from the above custom. And yet he,

Elesin is willing to accommodate the bird:

Elesin: I, when that Not-I bird perched

Upon my roof, bade him seek his rest again

Safe, without care or fear, I unrolled

My welcome mat for him to see. Not-I

flew happily away, you’ll hear his voice

No more in this lifetime – you all know What I am. (Death and the King’s Horseman, p.14).

Soyinka suggest that the culture being colonized in this instance finds the colonialist

ideologically inferior to them and yet more powerful by way of arms. And pride for their

indigenous culture makes it irrevocably clear that it is worth dying than to succumb to inferiority

(hence the deaths). Obafemi (1996) states that Soyinka concerns himself with Profundity and
metaphysical approach to art and society. Nussbaum in Brown (2000) talking about profundity

and panache of proverbial wisdom of sub-Saharan Africa comments that “…the west stands

before African wisdom like a seven-year-old before a Picasso saying, “it is all mixed up. I can

draw better than that.”” On the use of proverbial language as exhibited by Soyinka in the play:

Nussbaum remarks that “… many proverbs act as catalysts of knowledge, wisdom, philosophy,

ethics and morals. They provoke further reflection and call for deeper thinking.”(p.36) It is

readily evident the tussle between inferior and ‘superior’ language and how the writer attempts to

mitigate for the more versed yet terse Yoruba proverbial language to be carried by weaker

counterpart (English).

The English language became the national language for all colonies of Britain during and after

the colonial enterprise. And this is evident in its usage by both plays under discussion. And

though wa Thiong’o (1987) vilifies the use of colonial language and how quickly enfeebled

‘westernized’ African playwrights become at the mention of language as cultural identification

index, Soyinka submits that he wishes to let the English language carry the burden of his native

language.

Contrary to Barnaby’s assertion of possible traumatic experience which may have influenced the

playwright’s author’s note, “The colonial factor is an incident, a catalytic incident merely”

Obafemi (1996) argues that “… a mytho-ritual approach helps Soyinka to embrace the past, the

present and the future and thus a vision of continuity which is central to African metaphysis, and

at the same time helps the playwright to approach society’s problems historically.”

There is an immediate sense of meticulousness in composition that could not have happened by

accident, pitching Soyinka as having put much thought into scheming the creation. Also perhaps

an indication of well-conceived rebellion.

On the other hand, Mda’s approach to the effects the colonial encounter in You Fool, How Can

the Sky Fall is leaned towards the dysfunctional political framework the encounter left and the

laziness and incompetence of high-ranking government officials who are utterly out of touch

with the common people, albeit the danger associated with neurotic leaders who are disposed to

“narcissistic” tendencies rather than good governance as he decries the misplacement of the

cultural values.

The struggle for freedom and inability to plan forward had become habitual usually followed by

reversion to those ‘superpowers’ for aids that cripple the economy while the leadership

rummages through national coffers for self-aggrandizement. On this peculiarity Armah (1969)

observes that “… in the end they all just want to be like their white masters …” (p. 89)

Lazarus (2011) points out that

The general rhetoric of anticolonialism was reductive. It implied that there was only one struggle to be

waged, and it was a negative one: a struggle against colonialism, not a struggle for anything specific. “As a

result, once colonialism was defeated, a new national bourgeoisie emerged who simply replaced the old

colonial government without making any actual change to the existing social structures.

Though Mda’s writing preceded what became a destabilized post-apartheid South Africa, he

comments that he was writing about the post-colonial African condition in general:

De Klerk was still in power. I really wasn’t thinking about SA. I was thinking of post-independence

African and South American countries. The play was meant to function as an extended metaphor, not a

literal, documentary representation of life in a post-colonial country (Mda, interview, 2010).

How is it that the people who lead such massive spiritual and communal strives end up

abandoning the communal goal? The capitalist power ball seems to `bring with it a certain ego

trip that renders everything fought for communally null. This suggests perhaps an appropriate
time to revert to traditional African chieftaincy praxis where specific temperaments are assessed

in order to ascertain leadership roles while checks are put in place to forestall any such

anomalous tendencies. But this, perchance, is by way of speculation and necessitates

comprehensive investigation. Nonetheless, the surging attitudinal shifts of charismatic leaders of

revolution from men of modest intention to power drunk corrupt entities after assuming office

and the abuse of power thereof beckons the observer to probe further as to the source of such

trips. And perhaps the ‘unseen shadows’ with such powerful force to manipulate the ‘seat of

government’ (president’s prison-cabinet) as portrayed by Mda may be the cause of this

behavioral swing.

For South Africa, shortly after their independence, began the surge downward into the murky

abuse of power. Mda may as well have been writing ahead of his contemporaries, and though not

trying to be a prophet of doom, he presents an insightful view into a trend that has truncated the

uplifting of the African continent. Chris Thurman writes that:

If the question is “Why are there so many dictators in Africa?”, the play offers an answer that depends

neither on political or historical explanations. Rather, it seems to suggest, the urge to create, worship and

then overthrow secular gods is part of human nature. Mda comments: “We create these idols in order to

destroy them.”

Here again, like in many submission by playwrights, Mda suggests the common people wield the

power to make and unmake governments.

Conclusion

The effects of colonial encounter are readily evident in the works of many African playwrights

who lived during and after the phenomenal happenings, Soyinka and Mda inclusive. Yet what is

more pressing is the positions taken by these playwrights in a verbal stint to restore an
equilibrium for future development of the continent. For Soyinka, it’s only the performance of

the ritual that can guarantee the transition between Africa’s ancestral past, the present and the

future. And ritual blood needs to shed to allow for this to happen. If the fathers don’t do it, the

sons will, and be heralded in the world of ancestors where the fathers will serve their sons.

Mda does not portray the strife in such tragic way, rather he presents hope in the form of a

Youngman; youthful uncorrupted energy that seeks to right the mishaps of the forbearers. These

are sentiments shared among the oppressed in the search for identity, the desire to find common

ground for co-existence, the urge to revolutionize and a request to respect basic human rights and

socio-cultural dynamics.

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Fanon, F. (1961) Pitfalls of National Consciousness. In The Wretched of the Earth. London:

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Frantz Fanon, (1986) Black Skin, White Masks, London: Pluto Press.

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