Part One of
Kongi’s Harvest
as the two lovers prepare themselves for a con-
frontation with the paranoiac, life-denying dictator, Kongi. The scene
is constructed as a prolonged movement of emotional release, the only
one such moment in the entire play for the two lovers and would-be
revolutionaries. But it is an emotional release heavily overladen with an
over-idealized symbolism in which the love between Daodu and Segi is
mythicized as the consummation of oneness between the male and female
principles and the resultant regeneration of the forces of nature. In the
central pages of the dramatic text in which this scene is enacted, dialogue
and action falter badly, progressively become inflated and mawkish; cor-
respondingly, the life-affirming values inscribed in utterance, action and
gesture in the scene take on an air of pietistic unreality:
: My eyes of rain, Queen of the Harvest night.
(
slowly relenting, half ashamed
): I was so afraid.
: There is nothing more to fear.
: I will never be afraid again.
: Two less for Kongi’s collection. I am glad the live one is your father.
: I feel like dancing naked. If I could again believe, I would say it was a
sign from heaven.
: Yes, if we were awaiting a sign, this would be it. It may turn me
superstitious yet.
: I want to dance on gbegbe leaves – I know I have not been forgotten
: I’ll rub your skin in camwood, you’ll be flames at the hide of night.
: Come with me, Daodu.
: Now? There is still much to do before you meet us at the gates.
: Come through the gates tonight. Now, I want you in me, my Spirit of
Harvest.
: Don’t tempt me so hard. I am swollen like a prize yam under earth,
but all harvest must await its season.
(
CP
,
–
)
The dramaturgic and aesthetic faults of this scene come to their apex
when Segi’s women break in on this romantic-symbolic exchange be-
tween the two lovers, robe Daodu in the resplendent costumes of the
Spirit of Harvest and with their leader Segi, kneel before Daodu in
The “drama of existence”: sources and scope
adoration of, and supplication to his presumed salvational powers. These
faults are all the more surprising because this scene comes from a play
which, with all its faults, contains some of Soyinka’s most sparkling and
accomplished verse dialogue. Indeed, the very fact that this verse dia-
logue – narrated and chanted as paeans to the chiefly and ritual func-
tions of Danlola and his court – contains a heavy freight of formalism
and symbolism proves that it is not idealization or abstractionism in it-
self which proves insuperable for Soyinka’s dramatic genius; rather, it
is idealization without embodied, lived, acted-upon experience. This is
perhaps the secret source of Soyinka’s ability, almost without parallel
among contemporary playwrights, to make ritual formalism a vigorous,
vibrant theatrical expression. And this is so precisely because ritual cer-
emonialism is, for Soyinka, a lived, embodied experience. The following
passage from “Hemlock,” the prologue to
Kongi’s Harvest
, shows Soyinka’s
deftness and discipline in giving form and body to ritual ceremonialism
as a state of being-together-in-the-world:
(
As the king’s men begin a dirge of ‘ege’, Danlola sits down slowly onto a chair, drawing more
and more into himself
)
: I saw a strange sight
In the market today
The day of the feast of Agemo
The sun was high
And the king’s umbrella
Beneath it.
: We lift the king’s umbrella
Higher than men
But it never pushes
The sun in the face.
: I saw a strange sight
In the market this day
The sun was high
But I saw no shadow
From the king’s umbrella.
: This is the last
That we shall dance together
This is the last the hairs
Will lift on our skin
And draw together
When the gbedu rouses
The dead in Oshugbo . . .
: Don’t pound the king’s yam
With a small pestle
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