Monday, April 1, 2019

Simran Bansal, Sundiata: Lion King of Mali Response

Perhaps because of the bold, vibrant illustrations suffused with warm hues or because of the feel-good message that in the end, kindness and loyalty will triumph over evil (or, let’s be honest, the refreshing simplicity of the story following Macleod’s overly ambitious and winding argument), I really enjoyed reading Sundiata: Lion King of Mali by David Wisniewski. The visualization of the map at the beginning of the book was quite intriguing, especially since today in my Global Health 101 class, we discussed how drowning was a major contributor of morbidity and mortality in the West African region. After looking at this map, I can see why—the geography seems to be a huge maze of various rivers! In addition, similar to how we write “roadmaps” of our arguments in academic arguments, I interpreted this map as a preview of the long and twisting journey to come….

The first thing I noticed once I began reading the text was that it was unclear who was actually narrating the story. Although we were told that the story was told from the perspective of a griot—a member in Western African culture responsible for recounting oral history—we were never given a specific identity. However, as first person was only used in the first page of this book, it didn’t seem to matter either way. Another element of the story I was further interested in researching was the inspiration behind naming the land “Bright Country.” Did brightness have some cultural significance? Was it tied to a deeper religious meaning? Or was the land known as “bright” simply because the sun was always shining (although the first image is depicted at nighttime, with the huge crescent moon and the dazzling stars)? Upon further research, I realized that the origin behind the name was the product of all three factors. The “brightness” is a testament to the fact that “Bright Country” is located extremely close to the equator, so there is sunlight year-round. In addition, the soil of the area—like the illustrations of the book—is an intense yellow and red color, adding to the quality of vibrancy. Finally, since brightness is associated with the religious belief that light connects Earth to the spiritual realm, “Bright Country” is revered for being a magical place where the physical and spiritual worlds meet. Clearly, it’s a perfect setting for a story brimming with destiny and magic.

In addition, another character who interested me was the unattractive Sogolon, known to “possess the very spirit of [the] buffalo, strong and courageous.” Although I did not appreciate how Sogolon was literally treated like a material prize as opposed to a human being, this is unfortunately understandable considering the context of the story in an ancient society where women were viewed as property to be owned by men. However, I interpreted another more empowering message from the depiction of Sogolon—we do not have to be defined by our outward appearance. Instead, even those individuals who are not aesthetically beautiful can still possess a strong heart and mind. Similarly, even though Sundiata seemed to be limited by his disability at first, he was able to overcome his shortcomings through displaying his inner fortitude. This message that the only limitations that exist are those which we create for ourselves is one of hope. One thing I realized, however, was that although Sogolon was supposed to be “hideous,” she did not look any different than many of the other characters in the book. I found other artistic depictions of Sogolon (such as the one below), and in none of them did she have “monstrous eyes” that were “merely laid on her face” as the epic, “The Buffalo Woman,” phrases it.


Furthermore, the characterization of the “nine great witches” whom the jealous, power-hungry Sassouma called upon to kill Sundiata surprised me. I always associate “witches” as being innately and irrevocably evil forces who do not care whether or not their victims are genuinely good people. However, in this story, the witches would not kill Sundiata because they could not “hurt a heart full of kindness,” highlighting that Sundiata’s greatest power and weapon of defense was derived from his ability to show compassion to others. Hence, Sundiata was effectively saved by his own kindness.

Finally, I appreciated how David Wisniewski made it a point to include a “note” about the cultural and historical significance of the legendary story. The fact that Wisniewski was able to identify strong parallels between the plotline of the story and the actual rise of the Mali Kingdom helped me see that this story was probably far more genuine and historically accurate than “Aladdin and the Wonderful Lamp,” which was essentially just a Westernized product of the Frenchman Galland’s making.

All in all, I would say Sundiata: Lion King of Mali was my favorite of all the original texts we have read thus far.

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