The Cultural Diffusion and Analysis of a Symbol Complex

The Cultural Diffusion and Analysis of a Symbol Complex: Lela and its Antecedents among the Bali Chamba of the Cameroon Grassfields

Richard Fardon, Lela in Bali: History through Ceremony in Cameroon. Oxford: Berghahn Books (Hb, $135/£99 – 9781845452155), 2006, 176 pp. 45 illus.

It’s been over half a decade since Lela was celebrated in Bali Nyonga. Even before the separatist conflict erupted, Bali Nyonga had not been at peace with itself and by extension – its rulers. In his book, Lela in Bali: History through Ceremony in Cameroon (2006), anthropologist, Richard Fardon contends that Lela could be understood as a “barometer of the state of play in Bali politics: a ceremony that has adjusted to reflect the changing composition and external relations of the community” (2, italics mine). To extend this argument, it’s absence over several consecutive years could also index the state of politics – one that shows the growing dissonance between the ruled and the rulers.

In this review essay, I hope to accomplish two things: highlight the merits of Fardon’s contributions in writing Lela in Bali as well as assess the implications of his findings and interpretations for understanding Lela in the contemporary era and beyond. Lela in Bali, I submit, is a significant addition to Bali scholarship, but most importantly, to the understanding of cultural change in West Africa and the Cameroon Grassfields specifically. With over four decades of research experience that span Chambaland in Nigeria and the Cameroons, he is, arguably, the most experienced ethnographer to piece together an account of Lela, as documented by colonial and native intellectuals. It should be clarified at the outset that Lela in Bali isn’t a typical ethnography – that is, the anthropologist here isn’t providing a first-person account of what he witnessed or experienced in the field. What this book offers instead is a combination of first-person accounts by different actors – dating from the early 1890s by colonial soldiers, traders, ethnologists, administrators etc. as well as other native observers in the postcolonial period in the 1970s. Put together, this book synthesises for the reader, an account of Lela as observed by differently positioned participants that covers a period of about eight decades. It is to date, the only work that has attempted such an enterprise and should inspire further work on Lela and similar festivals in the Grassfields and beyond.

What is Lela and why does it command such anthropological interest? The festival draws its name from lera – a Chamba Leko word for a type of bamboo flute, or musical instrument played during this festival. In essence, Lela is an annual cultural festival in the Cameroon Grassfields that spans several days and believed by its adherents to have religious, military, diplomatic, aesthetics and political significance. Although it is performed in all the five Bali kingdoms in the Grassfields, it has been most documented in photographic and textual records in Bali Nyonga, largely because of Galega[1] and his successor’s cooperation with German colonial interests for slightly over a quarter of a century (1889-1915). As an elaborate ceremonial that spans several days, Lela could be understood as a symbol complex (Geertz, 1973, 2013), the unpacking of which reveals its multifaceted dimensions and multivocality. Introduced into the Grassfields by various Bali Chamba groups in the mid-19^th century, Lela rapidly spread or was acquired by other major kingdoms. It spread to Bafut[2] and Mankon by way of Bali Kumbad and to Nkwen[3] and Babanki, probably by way of Bali Nyonga.

Fardon’s account of Lela isn’t chronological but it doesn’t quite matter in the broader picture of the monograph. He begins with the Lela of 1908 which, by every indication, was the most documented Lela of its age. “In the case of the 1908 Lela”, he writes, “our remarkably full account includes not just textual analysis, but also photographs and even audio recordings of lela flute music and singing on wax cylinders” (8). Present at this festival were Basel missionaries and a professional ethnologist, Bernhard Ankermann and his wife – who arrived fully loaded with the latest tech gadgets of the time. With over 20 photos, most of them drawn from the archives of the Basel Mission, Fardon provides an insightful visual anthropological account of how Lela transpired in 1908 – its central actors and their reports of how they experienced the unravelling of the events. It is beyond the purview of this review to render full justice to these accounts or the photos (a compelling reason to buy a copy of the book) – but it should be remarked that the photos are emblematic of the claim that photos speak a thousand words.  The textual interpretations that accompany the photographs are equally discerning.

I’d like to draw the reader’s attention to two photos from the 1908 festival which capture elements or items that have endured to this day. The first is Figure 1, captioned Decorations on the outer wall of the King’s compound in Bali. Fardon remarks that Lela served as the “occasion for an exhibition of royal prestige and royal treasure” (16). The photo indeed reveals Fonyonga’s royal treasure amongst which are carved wooden statues, a foghorn, elephant tusks, and a European tapestry (much clearer in Figure 2 and probably snapped in 1909). Fardon further states that the tapestry was used as recently as the 2002 Lela although the mural of a tiger has since assumed a permanent spot on the palace walls. The tapestry in question has images of exotic Indian animals – a tiger, a small-eared Indian elephant and an Asian Lion (16). It remains unknown when the tapestry was gifted to either Galega or Fonyonga II but an educated guess is that they must have been given to one of the Bali kings during the early period of their encounters with Germans. What I find worthy of commentary is that this gift marks the period when the concept of “tiger” entered the Bali lexicon and over time, ordinary people began confusing it with the African leopard. The tiger as we know, is indigenous to Asia and belongs to the family of big cats[4] just like the leopard and the lion. Prior to its remarkable encounter with the tiger, the leopard served as a royal symbol in the Grassfields – an association that Bali royals would readily adopt upon their arrival in the region. This tapestry, it seems, may be the source of the everyday conflation we hear when Mungaka speakers refer to ŋgɨ̀nyàm – as tiger[5] – even though an untrained observer would easily notice the visual differences between tigers and leopards. That the king’s palace now has murals of an Asian tiger, rather than the indigenous African leopard, demonstrates quite vividly, the furtherance of this confusion. Or could this also be understood as an attempt to domesticate the foreign and exotic?

Another object of significance is the King’s umbrella, prominent in Figure 2 and in full use in Figure 3.[6] Captioned, King of Bali in dance costume in front of his house, the photo reveals Fonyonga standing next to his royal treasures (also see book cover):

“The Fon’s constume is elaborate, including an abundant feather headdress, capacious gown, a sword in a rich scabbard….and a horsetail fly whisk which he carries in his right hand. Behind his right shoulder is what we can recognise from other photographs as a long, beaded pipe-stem. Aside from his umbrella bearer, he is accompanied to his left by a figure who may be a woman carrying his pipe. She (if indeed female) wears a garment that looks like a dressing gown.”

The pipe-bearing woman is indeed female. What is worthy of note here is the significance of the material culture in full display – from the king’s regalia that has become ubiquitous today as a marker of Grassfields identity to the umbrella that remains an exclusive object of royal prestige to this day. These photographic records help us to piece together how and when certain objects were incorporated into the material culture of Bali and beyond and the extent to which these objects are used or re-interpreted in local society.

There is considerable evidence that at the core of Lela is the imperative to demonstrate support and esteem for the Fon (king). Did this narrative about the festival change over the years or was it reinforced by German presence in the Grassfields? Fardon demonstrates in his account that Bali Nyonga’s alliance with the Germans between 1889 and the first decade of the 20th century bolstered its military standing and claims of supremacy in the region, which culminated in the proclamation of Fonyonga II on June 15, 1905 as paramount chief of 31 villages, at which over 40 chiefs were present (63). In reality, Bali had no prior authority over these villages, a fact that would soon be apparent to the Germans. Nevertheless, the point is made that Lela drew additional oxygen on account of its alliance with German colonial rule to impress upon its participants that the festival was primarily a military affair with religious or ritual benefits.

A substantive part of the book, which I find quite instructive is devoted to accounts by various European observers of Lela. Fardon provides the following subheadings to differentiate the various accounts: “The Missionaries’ Version 1903-1913”, “The Ethnologist’s Version 1907 to 1908”, “The Soldier’s and the Trader’s Version 1889-1896”, “The Anthropologist and the Historian: A 1960s Version”. An overview of these accounts is in order. We shall begin with the most detailed of them – the missionaries’ account.  Between 1903 and 1913, missionaries wrote accounts about the Bali Lela festival which were published in the Basel Mission Magazine for the readership of its supporters. These accounts came from Jonathan Striebel, Jakob Keller and Eduard Lewerenz. What seems common in all the missionaries’ account is what Fardon calls “biblical comparisons”. Comparisons were drawn between ancient Israelites’ sacrificial offerings with those carried out by the Balis during the Lela festival. But what do these accounts tell us about the unravelling of the festival itself? Fardon recounts summaries of key recordings about unravelling of the festival. For example, we learn from Striebel’s article (1909) that during the festival, the Fon’s riches are displayed on both sides of the palace entrance (30). These treasures (discussed earlier) were acquired over the years, first by Galega I and later his son and successor, Fonyonga II in their exchanges with European traders and colonisers. Keller’s account sheds further light on the material decorations at the palace – the draping of the fence with blue and white fabrics (popularly known as Nji ndop), including European carpets with woven animal figures – elephant, tiger and lion. We also learn a little bit about the evolution of the two Bali flags. In Keller’s account – during the Lela festivals that took place between 1910 and 1913, the German flag flew alongside the Bali flag with the German flag having the inscription – Fonyonge (33).

Over time, it became evident that Lela not only served as an opportunity for the Fon to display his treasures, but that his subjects also appropriated European objects in their accoutrement for display at Lela. Keller brings this forcefully to us when he reports that “Lela is now become a pure fancy dress or costume festival” – as participants sought to outdo each other in their display of ostentatious consumption – necklaces, belts, sashes, knee bands etc. some of which appeared comic to European observers. “One year the King’s wives wore German infantry helmets back to front; the head wife donned a white cuirassier’s helmet; another wore blue glasses” (34).

Another missionary, Lewerenz reported that Fonyonga was absent from the Lela sacrifice of 1911 due to ill-health but it remains unclear if he missed the entire Lela festival. All three missionary accounts claimed that the festival had been reduced from its original 8 days to just four days. According to Fardon, and the evidence is compelling, Lela was generally framed as a religious festival in terms of “sin, sacrifice and purification.” Although they acknowledged the military components of the festival, a greater portion of their report focused on interpreting Lela through the prism of their bible, besides their growing concerns about the people’s “boundless appetite for novelty” (36).

The ethnologist’s account draws exclusively from Bernhard Ankermann’s edited but unpublished fieldnotes. Ankermann, a scholar and trained ethnologist first arrived Bali in December 1907 just when the Lela that year was wrapping up. He would later return in 1908 with his wife as an official ethnologist to document the festival. Armed with the latest gear, he took many photos and made audio recordings of the singing. Ankermann provides a chronological account of the events of the first day of Lela, 1908 which started at 11am with the gathering of a crowd at the plaza. He is equally captivated by the militaristic elements – Lə’tì as well as some of the material objects – e.g. the forked poles which he thought were “crudely carved” about which Fonyonga told him “… must be set up at the beginning of a reign else the new King incur the curse of his father” (40).

The soldier and trader’s accounts include the period between 1889 and 1896. These would have been the first descriptions of the sequence of Lela events. It is also here that a revelation is made about the origin of the second (German) flag – which we learn was donated by Zintgraff[7] to Galega (42). According to the soldier, Franz Hutter[8], Lela was a festival of arms. He witnessed and later published an account of the 1891 Lela which began on December 5, 1891. It also becomes apparent that Hutter was the source who first reported about the duration of the festival, namely that it lasted a week (i.e. Bali-week of 8 days as opposed to the German 7-day week). In his account, we learn that Lela was often attended by delegations from other kingdoms – e.g. Nkwen, Bagam and beyond (43). Besides seeing it as a military festival, Hutter further revealed that Galega told him that Lela was also a festival of remembrance: “That the men who fell in war were remembered at this time, while Fonte[9] confides in him that if the ceremony were not held many Bali would die in the next battle, but holding it correctly means the enemy will fail to kill any of them” (43). According to Zintgraff and Hutter’s accounts, Lela looked like a “mixture of precautionary practice and military demonstration; both of them designed as prelude to actual warfare” (45). However, it is also important to note that with the German presence in Bali, Lela was staged “as a predominantly martial ceremony with ritual aspects designed to ensure success in arms” (45).

Finally, we get an account from the anthropologist, Phyllis Kaberry and historian, Elizabeth Chilver who carried out extensive interviews especially with Tita Nyagang- their principal interviewee. Kaberry and Chilver conclude from their sources that Lela is primarily a festival that marks belonging and membership in the kingdom. Prior to Chilver and Kaberry’s accounts, little was known about the “social organisation” of Lela. Their accounts shed light on the role of other institutions or offices in the organisation and staging of Lela. For example, the four principal Sama had the duty to watch the phases of the moon and to alert the Fon prior to the initiation of Lela. We also learn about the role of the Tutuwan – the flag bearer. By the 1960s, the German flag had since ceased to be flown at Lela. Instead, we now see two white flags, one representing the men of Bali and another, distinguished with a red border – supposedly representing the women folk (52). Fardon contends that a close reading of Chilver and Kaberry’s accounts reveals a gradual gendering of the Lela festival and its paraphernalia. Other examples of gendered items include a female and male spear, a female and male leyta[10] as well as a male and female drum. Fardon suggests that this gendering has “aligned symbolically with the significance of female officials (especially the queen mother) and of matrilateral male relatives of the Fon among the Lela officiants.” He suggests further that this gendering corresponds to an “increasing importance of matrilateral kinship” (53). I find these interpretations valid and they inspire the need for further ethnographic exploration, given that gender has become an important aspect of sociocultural change in the Grassfields (cf. Goheen, 1996).

If Lela is such a huge festival which now commands national and international significance, are there elements in this symbol complex that are traceable or recognisable by their counterparts either in the Chamba settlements in Nigeria or across the Adamawa region that straddles Nigeria and Cameroon? If so, what are these elements and how do they relate to the festival that has become Lela? To answer this question, Fardon draws extensively from a colonial ethnologist, C.K. Meek and Garbosa’s accounts to track the material culture of Lela and its antecedents among Chamba chiefdoms south of the Benue river in Nigeria. He concludes that there are some striking similarities between the Lela ritual and Chamba religious and military practices in Chambaland. I will summarise some of these similarities for the benefit of our readers.

The first is what the Donga Chamba refer to as Vara – the cult of skulls. In ancient times, it was customary for the skulls of the lineage heads to be preserved for veneration but by the late 1920s, the ethnologist, C.K. Meek was told that only the skulls of chiefs were now preserved. “The new chief took part in a rite during which libations of beer were offered to the skulls of his predecessors; participation confirmed him in office as well as assuring the welfare of the whole town” (119). Fardon states that while this skull cult may have disappeared in many Grassfields Bali chiefdoms, he witnessed something similar to this in Bali Gham – a small round hut called skull hut Vad-wudla – where royals carried out rituals around the time of Lela (119).

Another cultural parallel between the Bali Chamba of the Cameroon Grassfields and their Donga counterparts in Nigeria is the retention of ritual bodies or cult institutions known generally as Voma. Among the Donga Chamba, this institution exists in both its male and female versions – the men’s is simply known as Voma and the women’s Vonkima (also Voom-keena) (119). There’s no recorded female counterpart to the Voma in Bali Nyonga, although Fardon suggests it may be present in some of the other Bali chiefdoms. This is another area that warrants further investigation.

A more significant festival or set of rituals among the Donga Chamba that has striking similarities to the Bali Chamba Lela are two ceremonies: ding sugnbia and Purma (120). The former is known as a spear washing ceremony. Fardon’s Donga informants back in 1977 reported about the existence of four spears – ding sa kuna – “the spear which looks out for the clan” (121) and which were central to the spear washing ceremony:

“In Chamba Leko[11], the verb sugnbia means to wash, so the ceremony of ding sugnbia is ‘washing the spear’. After harvest, the spears were taken outside the town and a cockerel was beheaded before each of them; if the cockerel ran around headless this was considered a favourable omen, the bird was caught the third time it fell and its blood dripped into a shallow trench in front of the spear. If the bird fell over stone dead, discussions would have to take place to account for the poor omen. A small cup at the top of each spear was filled with ‘medicine’ which the senior mala (father’s sister) of the patriclan daubed on the forehead, right arm and over the heart of every warrior. (121)”

For those familiar with the elaborate rituals of Lela on the first day, the above account is similar to the Bali Nyonga washing of their military gear and flag in the river, including the sacrifice of a goat or chicken that follows the washing. Another similarity could be drawn between the ritual role of the mala and the Fon’s visit to the queen mother/sister in Bali Nyonga. There isn’t much literature on the symbolism of this visit – something that would greatly add to our knowledge of the gendered aspects of Lela. Whatever suggestions contemporary adherents may offer as an explanation of the Fon’s visit to the queen mother, there’s clearly a lost element in this ritual that was previously played by a senior female.

Another ceremony that occurred after harvest, often in October and bigger than the ding sugnbia was known as Purma. Meek likened Purma to both military training and a ceremony of allegiance to the chief. “Purma is organised around a series of military displays and salutes to the chief by the gangum or war-chief in the field (who was a subordinate of the nyaa[12] or war official)” (Meek 1931b I:334 as quoted in Fardon, 121). In order to demonstrate the similarities between Purma and Lela, it may be worthwhile to quote from Meek, by way of Fardon’s account:

“On the opening day, the warriors clear a site for the display ‘treading down the grass and cutting off twigs of trees and plants as though they were cutting off the heads of enemies’; they salute the chief in the early evening and later that evening the oliphants summon all armed men to the palace where they salute the palace officials (Meek 1931b I: 350). The next day is the principal day of the festival when the chief distributes gowns or horses to the men of his family. The chief departs to the prepared site of the war games and is installed in a hut from where he receives ‘salutations of the people’ and watches the warriors’ manoeuvres. Under the charge of gangum, the leaders oversaw a display by the young warriors as well as a dance called daya[13], performed to the accompaniment of small, hour-glass shaped, tension drums wedged under the player’s left arm…. Such drums would be considered in Chambaland to be of Fulbe origin… That afternoon the warriors raid a neighbouring farm, overturn the protective charms there and pillage the crops. Then all ride back to town in ceremonial order, and more salutes occur at the palace in the presence of the royal gongs. Food and then beer are distributed by the chief, and that evening he may ask for the royal lera flutes to be played for dancing. (121-122)

Meek further notes that Purma lasted for about seven days back in the 1920s although by this time, it had become a significant drain on the chief’s resources.[14] Clearly, there are many similarities here between the Donga rituals and Bali Chamba elaboration of Lela including the remarkable form of military salute the Bali Nyonga now refer to as Lə’tì.[15]

In conclusion, Fardon contends that Lela has “always been simultaneously, … both traditionalising and modernising” (133). This is so in the sense that at its core are elements of “tradition” derived from the confluences of the Benue, Faro and Deo rivers (that is, the Adamawa area), but throughout its two-century history in the Grassfields, it has also incorporated or been influenced by its encounters with German colonialism and other Grassfields cultures. Thus, it may be understood as an elaborate ceremonial complex, a “time capsule” of past practices as well as an embodiment of Chamba and Bali adaptations to changing times (144). For a more recent but normative discussion of Lela, see (Titanji, 2016).

That Lela may be interpreted as a “barometer of the state of play in Bali politics” and that at its core is not only an affirmation of belonging but also a demonstration of support and esteem for the Fon – remains a solid appraisal of what Lela was and has become over two centuries of immersion in the Grassfields. How this will change in the next century or two is unpredictable, especially in view of the recent political developments in the land, marked by a nationalist rebellion and the abdication of the Fon. What remains predictable is that it would take considerable effort for Lela to regain its legitimacy as a festival that commemorates more than just esteem for the Fon’s leadership.

 

Jude Fokwang

Regis University

 

 

Cited Sources

Geertz, C. (1973). The Interpretation of Cultures. New York: Basic Books.

Geertz, C. (2013). Ethos, World-View and the Analysis of Sacred Symbols. In P. A. Moro (Ed.), Magic, Witchcraft, and Religion: A Reader in the Anthropology of Religion (9th Edition ed.). New York: McGraw-Hill.

Goheen, M. (1996). Men Own the Fields, Women Own the Crops: Gender and Power in the Cameroon Grassfields. Madison, Wisconsin: The University of Wisconsin Press.

Titanji, V. P. K. (2016). The Traditional and Modern Calendars of Bali Nyonga: Co-existence and Change. In V. P. K. Titanji (Ed.), Bali Nyonga Today: Roots, Cultural Practices and Future Perspectives (pp. 60-77). Denver, Colorado: Spears Media Press.

Notes

[1] I refer to Galega only, consciously omitting the “I” because his grandson, Galega II is not addressed in this essay.

[2] In Bafut for example, Lela was combined with sacrificial ceremonies called Ebin, including the making of their own flag (106).

[3] The evidence for this is that Bali Nyonga and Nkwen eventually became allies in the late 19^th century and their participation at the Lela of 1891 is well documented.

[4] “Panthera is a genus of the family Felidae. It has five living species, which are the biggest cats in the Felidae. The tiger is the largest Panthera species, and the largest of all cats. The leopard is the smallest Panthera species.” – Wikipedia

 

[5] Perhaps, another of Fardon’s works may shed light on this – which I’m yet to read (see “Tiger in an African palace” in David Mills & Wendy James (eds) The Qualities of Time, ASA Monographs in Social Anthropology 41, Oxford: Berg.

[6] Figure 3 also serves as the cover image of the book

[7] Zintgraff brought the flag to Bali in 1890 during his second trip.

[8] Leutnant Franz Hutter arrived Bali in June 1891 with 2000 M71 Mauser to arm and train the Balitruppe.

[9] Fonte is noted as a blacksmith and trusted friend of the king, Galega I.

[10] A type of carded forked stick believed to have ritual/royal significance.

[11] The Grassfields term for this language is Mubako.

[12] Note that the prefix Nyaa – denotes a war leader – hence Nyaa-gang – a variant of the term for war leader among the Bali and Chamba.

[13] Could this be what Bali Chamba in the Grassfields now call Danga?

[14] Purma remains a popular festival in the Donga area in the Taraba state of Nigeria. See https://www.theoctopusnews.com/taraba-natures-gift-to-nigeria/; also see short music clip of lera music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qo26ceXvlpQ

 

[15] Fardon speculates that the general form of salute, “waving spear or musket at the chief, may have begun in imitation of the durbars at muslim capitals” (123). The same is true of the Chamba term for flag – tutuwan, derived from the Fulfulde tutuwal.