Taken from Chris's site https://toumaranke.wordpress.com/blog/
Chris Sylla at the FOROYA SOOTO or Freedom Tree Triangle
The speedy action of the Jamba Jabally
I recently attended the wonderful Janjanbureh kankurang festival for the first time. As a musician and ‘old timer’ in the Gambia I was pleasantly surprised at how well organised it was. The power failure on Sat night slightly spoiled my admiration of the organisation and smooth running, and it started rather later than advertised on the friday night, but hey ho GMT right! (for the uninitiated ‘Gambia Maybe Time‘, a concept you need to get your head around so as not toJaballyentirely mad). The vibe was relaxed and friendly, the masquerades were marvelous, the whole experience was incredibly inspiring and I learned a lot about Kankurang
Before this festival, I had heard of the Kankurang masquerade. It’s an integral part of ‘Mandinka culture. I’d occasionally seen some too, in a variety of different circumstances. I’m interested in ethnomusicology, ‘stories’ and folklore and such, so I’m always asking questions and looking out for that sort of thing. There is often tension between ‘deep culture’ and cultural tourism and as a community musician who specialises in West African percussion and teaches about cultural ‘differences/ cultural awareness’ as well as music, I try to educate myself as much as possible. I know some people feel that the ‘sacred’ masquerades shouldn’t be used for ‘entertainment’ purposes but the Kankurang is out there now, and although it’s ‘mysteries’ remain, and it’s sacred function continues, it’s now part of the ‘showcasing’ of West African/Mande music/dance and culture. One of the impressive things about the Janjanbureh festival, I felt, was that this was done with respect and in the spirit of keeping that culture alive as well as creating a ‘spectacle’ and ‘entertainment’.
The thrilling Saturday afternoon procession through the streets
I know a little bit about the ‘roots’ of this festival and some of the ideas behind this, and ‘cultural tourism’ in general on the island, and I had the privilege of talking to some of the people involved in its organisation. I have great admiration for their ideas and the way things have developed and hope to continue this dialogue. All rural and ‘traditional’ communities (in almost any culture) suffer from young people leaving for ‘the bright lights’ or the idea of ‘better’ jobs in the more urban areas. Gambia also suffers from it’s youth (and their families) believing that getting to Europe will solve financial problems, and there are the horrors of the ‘back way‘ (ie getting into Europe illegally) which takes so many lives and breaks both families and often the individuals who do make it alive. Tourism, in my opinion, hasn’t always been good for the Gambia, and the richness of cultures it contains. That’s another article, as is a fuller exploration of the allure of the back way, which has killed so many. The model being used in Janjanbureh is Sustainable Tourism, sometimes called cultural tourism, with the community in the ‘driving seat,’ and it does seem to be working. My friend Jane smith, who set up Just Act Gambia, had a lot to do with getting this off the ground and has retained active links with the community since 2009. Through her I met a lot of dedicated and interesting people, and I bumped into one or two others by accident. The festival, although it does want to attract tourists, and so generate income for the community, is truly a community event. Rather than one designed for tourists that then excludes local people, and this was part of why the vibe was so great.
My understanding of how Janjanbureh Kankurang festival began is that the community wanted its youth to feel part of their culture and to maintain a sense of pride. Tourism in the Gambia is very concentrated in the ‘resort’ areas near the sea. Largely based on the hotel ‘sun/sand/sea’ model, and somewhat ‘tainted by the ‘4th s’ (ie ‘sex’). As a white woman who often travels alone this can be very annoying and a T shirt saying ‘don’t bother me I’m not interested’ is tempting but wouldn’t quite work! I am, in fact, married to an African man, but that’s another story (some of it told on this blog in fact). I’m not at all ‘anti sex’ and ‘holiday romances’ do happen, but the commercialisation of it, and the ‘hope’ of ‘catching’ a white person and getting a better life is very similar to the ideology behind the back way. Part of the legacy of enslavement and colonialism (and poverty) and ‘uncomfortable’ to say the least. I’m happy to write that I wasn’t much bothered in Janjanbureh and that I made new friends, some of them young men, and it was very refreshing to be able to chat about anything and everything without what often feels like the ‘inevitable bracing’ against an unwanted ‘offer’. These young people are becoming ‘cultural ambassadors’, along with artists and elders and the whole ‘feel’ of the festival is a reflection of the success of this
Evening festivities at the Tinyasita
I now divide my knowledge of kankurang into before Janjanbureh and after, I had no idea there were so many different types. There were other masquerades too, so I’ve got lots of new ideas to assimilate.
The program did an excellent job of explaining but I managed to take some great photos, and it was a very limited edition (20 copies I believe) so I thought I’d share both my excitement and some of what I learned. Plus showing off some of those excellent photos. Particularly from the Friday night, as I arrived on time in that English way, when everyone else knew it wouldn’t start at 8 and came later… This meant a front row seat and a fabulous view of the festival site and having been talked into buying a new phone when I dropped the old one into the recycling by mistake during the stress of my caring years – I got some really good shots.
Kankurang
All I knew about kankurang before this festival was that they are a sort of ‘guardian spirit’ masquerade traditionally used in male circumcision/initiation ceremonies to keep ‘bad spirits/evil influences’ away, and protect the boys during the time they are spiritually vulnerable. I had seen some – a few times in the street in Bacau years ago on my first visit to the Gambia. Once quite a scary meeting as I had no idea what was going on – the banging of the cutlasses and the high shrieking noises were really scary – and I was grabbed and ‘held hostage’. I had no idea at that time that the thing to do was give money – that when watching any ‘performance’, musical or masquerade, the correct response is to give the performer some money. It doesn’t have to be a large note, it’s just a way of acknowledging (and rewarding). I was with a group of other English people and we had no ‘cultural advisor’ with us, but it was made clear by others on the street what to do… Later I managed to chat to some Gambians and began to understand a little more.
In the 20 or so years since then I’ve learned a lot, but this festival taught me masses more about kankurang. I’ve seen (and heard) some in the distance, sometimes down by rivers or bolons, with groups of boys or young men. I’ve heard of a couple of accidents (those costumes are heavy and if you fell into fast moving water you’d not last long)! I learned they were sacred mysterious things, and scary! That it was forbidden (and unlucky, and I believe sometimes fatal) to see them getting into the costumes. The masquerade is ‘man like’ but not a ‘person’, you are not supposed to know who it is – once the costume is on it’s a Kankurang – a spirit creature, a symbol. I also learned that children (and sometimes adults too) are generally scared of them. The costumes are made from leaves and bark and the face is generally covered, but even this isn’t universal I have since discovered. The picture below is the ‘classic’ kankurang, red bark and green leaves, faceless, carrying 2 sticks and a big ‘cutlass’ type knife. However, I now know there are other kinds too…
Jamba Kankurang before the Kankurang Festival Parade
I was basically correct in the knowledge I had before I came to the Janjanbureh festival but my understanding is now deeper and I realise that kankurang is not just one thing. The programme (excellently written by a person I met briefly) states:
“Kankurang is a combination of the Mandinka words ‘Kango’ and ‘Kurango’ which translate as ‘voice’ and ‘enforce’. “
Kankurang are a part of the complex initiation rituals (for boys as far as I know, but initiation rituals for girls are harder to discuss as they often involve FGM, which is now illegal in Gambia, and Africans are generally not up for discussions about this with westerners), a ‘protective spirit’, as I thought, but also central figures in gaining cultural knowledge and social norms and rules. So the kankurang
“serves both spiritual and judicial functions” and are
“an embodiment of the spiritual and moral values of the traditional Mandinka society”
There’s lots to say about all the sorts of Kankurang I saw, but I’m going to start with the one that was totally new to me..
Jamba Jabally – the green one
This was one of the ‘wow, I’ve never seen this before ’moments for me… Amazing tree like masquerade which doesn’t seem to resemble a person at all and doesn’t carry any sticks or blades like the one I always think of as kankurang in my head. It’s most common in the Jimara and Wuli districts of the Upper River Region – according to the program – which explains why I’ve never seen it as I’ve never been that far up. It can also be seen in the Numi district of the Central River Region. The people I stay with, in the Kombos district near the coast, who are a mixture of Guineans and Gambians, Susu, Jolla and Mandinka, had told me I would see ‘a green one‘, (and a red one) and were utterly delighted with the photos of it I brought back. Most Gambian kids are instinctively scared of Kankurang but these pics didn’t seem to produce the same reaction as the others in the kids I knew, perhaps because they’ve never actually seen one like this? Or perhaps because it looks very different from the standard kankurang and doesn’t have the big scary knife?
The Jamba Jambally surrounded by the crowds of local and international visitors
This masquerade is dressed entirely in green mahogany leaves. The name jamba jabally translates as ‘Ieaf never dry’ and this is because this kankurang only ever comes out for a short period of time. According to the program, the person inside in its village setting, is generally an elder who’s very experienced in the traditions of Mandinka society. It’s an incredible costume, taller than ‘ordinary’ Kankurang because it has a sort of ‘topknot’ of leaves. The shapes it made were extraorinary, sometimes really tall and sometimes dropping to the ground. The functions of this one (again accordining to my source of information, the programme) include “passing a message to the community or settling a dispute between age sets”
Apparently, in its traditional setting, it sings and is accompanied by women who sing the chorus. I didn’t see this at the festival as I only saw this masquerade in the festival ground and not in the street carnival. It’s interesting because I’ve always thought of kankurang as a very ‘male’ masquerade – sometimes women are forbidden to see them, or to come out of houses when they are ‘out’… This one seems a little different. I didn’t hear any singing that went with this one, and there were no women I could see in its ‘entourage’, but there was definitely dancing accompanying it.
One of the people I was chatting to, (I was lucky and ended up staying in a room next to the UNESCO rep, so had lots of interesting conversations at breakfast) said this one sometimes ‘predicts’ what sort of rainy season it will be – short or long, or gives villagers other ‘advice’. I look forward to continuing to learn about ‘the green one’ (and all the other masquerades) and am immensely grateful to all those involved in the festival, and everyone who took time/energy to talk to me.
Thank you, Chris, for sharing this comprehensive information. We look forward to welcoming you again in the future.
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