WEST AFRICA REVIEW
ISSN: 1525-4488
Issue 8 (2005)
WEST AFRICA REVIEW ISSN: 1525-4488 Issue 8 (2005) |
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GUELWAAR, A VERBAL PERFORMER |
The turning point in Guelwaar, a 1992 film by Director Ousmane Sembène, is the fiery speech that the main protagonist, Guelwaar, delivers at the foreign aid reception. Guelwaar takes it upon himself to chastise his countrymen over the indignity and shame in relying on foreign aid. As a result, the supposed thank you speech to the donors turns out to be a series of disparaging remarks about foreign aid. Given the tradition of hospitality, teranga, as it is called, it is very improbable that such an arguably generous act would be met with open hostility. The unlikelihood of such occurrence makes the speech unique and powerful. In addition, the speech is delivered in Wolof, the Lingua Franca, in a variant characterized by the absence of borrowings from other languages. The power of the speech is also in its delivery. Guelwaar delivers the speech with a rare eloquence, like a waaraatekat, a self-appointed public speaker who preaches on moral grounds. The setting of the stage imposes a speaker-listener dynamic between Guelwaar and the diegetic audience, and he takes much advantage of it.
In this paper I examine Guelwaar’s speech and the ways in which Sembène organizes the words and deploys the resources within the words that sanction its effectiveness as a verbal performance. I investigate both the poetics of the speech and the histrionics of the performance; that is, the body language and the style and techniques of presentation. My analysis of the speech focuses on the interconnection between its delivery and its meaning. In other words, I am as much concerned with the way Guelwaar delivers his speech as with what he says in it. In addition to meaning, I examine the different prosodic features, the linguistic and paralinguistic devices Guelwaar uses to convey his thought.
In his book Verbal Art as Performance, Richard Bauman defines the concept of verbal performance as follows:
Fundamentally, performance as a mode of spoken verbal communication consists in the assumption of responsibility to an audience for a display of communicative competence. This competence rests on the knowledge and ability to speak in socially appropriate ways. Performance involves on the part of the performer an assumption of accountability to an audience for the way in which communication is carried out, above and beyond its referential content. From the point of view of the audience, the art of expression on the part of the performer is thus marked as subject to evaluation for the way it is done, for the relative skill and effectiveness of the performer’s display of competence. . . . Thus conceived, performance is a mode of language use, a way of speaking. (Bauman 11)
Along the same lines of thought as Bauman, Isidore Okpewho approaches the idea of performance as an effective form of delivering a verbal narrative. While he does not clearly mention the accountability of the performer to his audience, he does point out the necessary involvement of the body and other paralinguistic devices that make oral performance more lively than a written text:
By the term performance is implied the total act as well as the context or environment involved in the delivery of oral narrative – issues relating not only to the role of the audience [ ] but also to the narrator’s use of the movement of the face, hands and other parts of the body in giving life to the narration. (Okpewho 16)
Guelwar’s speech is a verbal performance, for its dramatic delivery forces his audience’s attention. A ka moo mana wax! [How well s/he speaks!], or man na wax de! [S/he speaks well!] are expressions used by Wolof speakers when evaluating the performance of a speaker. Guelwaar vigorously vocalizes the Christian community’s disapproval of foreign aid. Throughout the speech, his fellow Christians nod their heads in approval of every utterance he makes, as if back-channeling one’s partner in a face to face oral exchange. Besides the expressed affiliation of the audience to Guelwaar’s speech, a number of communicative means are featured in the text and serve to key performance: body language, special codes, figurative language, ideophones, and interaction.
Below is a morpheme by morpheme translation followed by a free translation of the speech. Transcription of the entire speech, and semiotic indication of its paralinguistic features, plus the numbering of lines and the English translation, are all intended to help the reader better relate to the analytic references to the text, and to grasp the overall significance of the speech. The speech is delivered with a striking rhythmic pattern. The transcription, therefore, is broken down in independent lines corresponding with the narrator’s breath stops. Through punctuation on the transcript, each line is marked by an independent intonation contour, which is sufficient reason to transcribe the text in separate lines. Therefore, the basis of the transcription is the fundamental rhythmic structure of the speech. Thus, every line of the text represents all that is said within the scope of the corresponding rhythmic line. In the transcription, the following symbols are used:
↑ Arrows pointing up mean high pitch.
? Question marks mean rising intonation.
: Colons are used to indicate the prolongation or stretching of the sound just preceding them.
An underlined word means emphasis or stress.
( .3 ) Parentheses mean pause, with the number indicating
length of the pause in seconds.
= The equal sign indicates the beginning of an interruption. However, in the case of this speech, it is used only twice: at line 27 to indicate the beginning of an intrusion, and at line 28 to signal the end of the intrusion.
. A period indicates a falling, or final intonation contour, not necessarily the end of a sentence.
, A comma indicates continuing intonation, not necessarily a clause boundary.
font. A smaller font is used to indicate whispering. This is used only once at line 44.
Following is a linear translation of the speech.
Pointing your finger is to show someone the way. You know that! But opening your five fingers to a passer-by, that's begging. Our leaders have gathered us here, do you know why? It is nothing, just to receive this aid. And now our leaders offer profuse thanks to all our distinguished benefactors, unlimited thanks in the name of us all, present and absent; they preen themselves and strut about. See our leaders, they are all happily walking around as if this aid were the fruits of their labor, what a disgrace!
As for us, the people, with no voice and no shame, dance before this aid, co:h, what humiliation! I say to you, open your eyes and look, a family's hope for survival [MP: shut him up; make him shut up. Audience member: Leave it with me, this is his last time talking in public.](…) should not depend on aid dak dak dak. This aid affair has been going on for thirty years here and elsewhere. This aid they are distributing to us will kill us. It has killed all our dignity and pride, shoh! We are without shame; nobody has any dignity left. I tell you, the countries sending us aid send it grudgingly; they laugh at us back in their homes, do you know that?
Besides, our sons and daughters who live abroad among these people feel terribly humiliated, and they can't look at any one in the eye for shame. They can't look at any one in the eye for shame. It's true that in our country we have had problems, we have our problems, but we should be dealing with them ourselves, not someone else; we on our own. Our ancestor Kocc Barma said if you want to kill a proud man, supply all his everyday needs, in the long run, you will make him a slave, dakngaydon, dak. I tell you that any little pride and shame that we had left was consumed by this aid; any pride that we had left has been consumed by this aid. You see famine, drought, and poverty, do you know why they happen? You want to know why? If a country is always taking aid from another people, that country, from its children, from generation to generation, will be able to say only one word. Ask me what word, thank you! thank you! thank you!
There is a meaningful connection between Guelwaar’s body language and the content of his speech. The energy behind the body motions supports the speech and gives it more power. In the same way as body language, ideophones are used to reinforce utterances. All the ideophones in the speech are used to confirm, support, or further emphasize the negative opinion or judgment that precede or follow. Finally, pauses are meant to give the audience time to think, to ponder over what Guelwaar is telling them.
Guelwaar chooses his utterances very carefully. His speech is meant to spur critical thinking among the diegetic audience, and by correlation and extension, among the spectators, or external viewers of the film as well. Therefore, Guelwaar associates himself with the common people, the diegetic audience, digs out the most shameful of their dirty laundry, wraps himself in it, and head high, beats his chest with dignity. Here, the camera movement strongly emphasizes the speaker-audience interaction. Even though the audience does not respond verbally, the addressee of each utterance receives the focus of the camera and their subsequent visible facial/body expression shows a reaction to the speech.
No gesture is random in Guelwaar’s speech. Rather, there is a meaningful connection between his physical motion and his verbal utterances. Generally speaking, if there is a disconnection between speech and body language, the speaker will seem like a clown or a disoriented conductor in front of his band. The conductor is to the music what the gestures are to Guelwaar’s utterances. They are completed before their lexical affiliate is produced, and the utterances are a verbal materialization of the gestures performed.
For example, at the very beginning of the reception, Guelwaar is invited to the microphone center stage; holds it for a few seconds while the crowd’s cheers of welcome and excitement progressively rise and fall. Guelwaar steadily stares at apparently no one in particular, lends a patiently listening ear as the crowd calms down, his right hand folded half way in the form of a reversed “L”, with the index pointing to the sky. He maintains this position for about 10 seconds while the camera focuses on him in a long take to make us dwell on his body language. Then, he begins by saying “a pointing finger” while he simultaneously unfolds his long right hand as he points his right index toward the gallery, where the government representatives are seated.
It is important to indicate that about 20 seconds elapse between the time when Guelwaar gets to the microphone and the time when he utters the first word of his speech. Sembène stresses this moment in particular to establish the conditions for a speaker-listener dialogue. In addition, it is ironic that the whole speech scene is a flashback point of view shot; it is the point of view of the Prefet recalling the aid distribution ceremony. The same Prefet now accompanies the MP who spearheaded the assassination plot. The speech is 4 minutes and 44 seconds long and uses mainly close-ups, medium close-ups, a few medium and long shots of Guelwaar, the audience members and the scenery, including the pile of grain bags strikingly labeled foreign aid, and flags of many Western countries tied to a rope and floating above the bags alongside the Senegalese flag.
This action is completed before its verbal affiliate is totally uttered. As Guelwaar retracts his arm and his elbow comes down half way, this motion is suddenly interrupted and the angle of the elbow extends flat again, with all five fingers open toward the crowd, and the palm stretched out face up as he utters lines 4, (wantejuroomibaaramyuñtallalkuyromb? [but opening your five fingers to a passer-by] and 5 yelwanla. [that's begging]
These subsequent, almost identical motions of the right hand are made
different only by the semi-flexion of the elbow during the second
stretch, 
which
gives the movement a sense of partial resumption comparable to the
partial similarity of lines 1 ((….) Baraam
buñtallal?
[You point your finger] and 4 (above) of the speech. The difference
between lines 1 and 4 is reflected in the speech by the use of the
opposition coordinate wante meaning [but] that occurs between
the two clauses, whereas in the body action, this opposition is
reflected in the non completion of the bending of the elbow after the
finger-pointing action (figure # 2). The other difference occurs at
the level of the palm where, this time, all five fingers are spread
out. This motion is completed and stands as the verbal affiliate of
lines 4 and 5, which they emphasize.
The least that can be said about Guelwaar as he waits for the crowd to
calm down is that he shows total indifference to the cheers around
him. He deliberately ignores the excitement of the crowd as he walks
to the microphone, thus openly distancing himself from the enthusiasm
of the audience he is about to rebuke. His almost unreadable facial
expression is rather tense, stern, even nervous, which makes him look
as if he were annoyed by the cheers and the people surrounding him.
Under normal circumstances, a speaker in this context would take
advantage of the general euphoria to look around, smile to the crowd,
wave hands in all directions, for the cheers indicate the audience’s
appreciation of the speaker. Here, Guelwaar stands in defiance of the
audience because he has a mission to tell the truth. That mission
sets him apart and distinguishes him from the common and usually
deceptive politician, generally associated by the common Senegalese
with a liar. Guelwaar is not a politician, nor a government
representative, but a respectable citizen and an elder of his
community. Accordingly, he does not deliver a politician’s
speech; instead, he thoughtfully makes sense of a political act and
speaks out against it. As an elder person, his act of stepping
forward and telling the truth to the other members of the community
is a courageous, yet suicidal act in a political context where
democracy and human rights are mere slogans. Guelwaar is Sembène’s
mouthpiece. Through the actor, we get a sense of Sembène’s
thought-provoking political message.
In his resolution to spur people into taking action, Sembène makes effective use of the power of verbal performance to reach his audience. Bauman emphasizes this power of performance when he writes that, “a not insignificant part of the capacity of performance to transform social structure, resides in the power that the performer derives from the control over his audience afforded him by the formal appeal of his performance (Bauman 16). Okpewho could not agree more when he writes that much of the appeal of performance lies in the quality of the voice used and the skill with which the speaker manipulates the tones of the words involved (1992, 43). Consequently, Sembène does not leave a single detail untouched: the prosody of his speech, its poetics along with his body language instill fear among the political authorities who plot his murder.
As one of the senior members of the community, Guelwaar has lived under this political regime long enough to understand that the post-independence state has fattened itself on corruption and thievery. Therefore, his duty is to expose his fellow countrymen to the wisdom he accumulated over time. Thus, the sentential nature of the speech should be read as an act of accusation of the political class. In Senegalese culture as well as in many other African cultures, pointing the index finger is an act of accusation. In the Senegalese culture, it can be worse than an accusation; it is interpreted by some as a curse, an insult, a threat.1 By pointing his index finger toward the gallery, Guelwaar accuses and curses the representatives of the Senegalese neo-colonial regime who, indeed, curse him back by killing him. Guelwaar accuses the local authorities of ruling the country into begging, which he imitates by spreading out his fingers in the subsequent motion.
The energy, strength, and determination that are behind Guelwaar’s motions as he performs his speech, and the coordination between utterance and body language, are the factors that combine to make the speech so persuasive. This verbal and visual harangue, eloquently delivered in an indigenous language is a blow to the political class and results in Guelwaar’s assassination. The political class perceives Guelwaar’s speech as an affront, for it lifts the linguistic mask covering their games, and the people who had been used for over thirty years only to clap their hands are suddenly awakened to the bitter truth with only one option: to take action.
As one of the most widely noted characteristics of verbal art, special codes play a central role in determining verbal performance (Bauman 17). Special codes vary according to cultures and languages. What I refer to as special code here is the choice of Wolof bu xoot, a medium reminiscent of village life and traditional ways, and generally associated with “backwardness” in the eyes of urban people. It is important to point out that people who speak this type of Wolof are derogatorily called kaw-kaw, which means [people from rural areas], who are not yet awakened to the refinements of modernity. Guelwaar’s speech is devoid of lexical borrowings, which distinguishes it from urban Wolof. Sembène’s choice of rural Wolof where, under “normal” circumstances, French is used, is a political one and articulates emphatically the pride in being oneself. Beyond the political undertones of this choice, however, there is the poetic dimension that makes the speech sound like a song or a poem with metered verses (see transcription). Since word formation follows different patterns in different languages, this poetic aspect of the speech would otherwise not have been obvious.
The poetic dimension of verbal performance has made Bauman observe that much discussion of the nature of verbal art is founded on the notion that it is part of the essence of poetic language that is somehow deviant from normal language (Bauman 17). Even though the speech is intelligible to the common Wolof speaker, it clearly demarcates itself from the Wolof spoken in urban Dakar. This mercantile Wolof stands as the norm, whereas Wolof bu xoot is now seen as deviant and laughable.
Figurative language is one of the most recurrent communication devices in oral performance. Bauman notes that “no single feature of performance figures more consistently in accounts of the characteristics of verbal art than figurative language” (Bauman 17). This strong presence of figurative language is particularly significant in oral traditions, where its use is indicative of wisdom. One of the many striking features of Guelwaar’s speech is its introductory formula: A “pointing finger,” which means to show the way or to accuse somebody, and “fingers spread out” to signify begging. This introductory image aims to captivate the audience’s attention and heighten their expectations. Using figurative language is a valuable skill, especially in regions where speaking is an art and a vocation culturally claimed by some groups of people whose sole function in society is to talk (griots for example). In these areas, speaking in images and parables, using abstract language are qualities associated with a good speaker. Figurative language is complex and rather suggestive, whence its fluidity; it makes a speaker sound intelligent and creative. Bauman, elaborating on the creative feature of verbal performance, writes that:
The semantic density of figurative language, its foregroundedness, make it especially appropriate as a device for performance where expressive intensity and special communicative skill are central. The nature of figurative expression is a complex and extensive subject. (17-18)
What this indicates is that figurative language is a condensation of ideas densely squeezed to reflect, by their manifold layers of meaning, the communicative creativity of the performer. For instance, pointing one’s finger to the audience is an odd and unusual way of starting a speech, especially in the context of a mixed-audience. When Guelwaar utters the first clause of his speech accompanied by this gesture, people are taken aback. They sit back in surprise, struggling with the break in political speech patterns, and wondering where he is heading before he utters the complementary clause that delineates the meaning and contextualizes his utterance. This start of his speech, which is unusual, unconventional, and non-formulaic keeps the audience hanging on to Guelwaar’s words. He keeps up this shocking mode to maintain the attention of the audience throughout the speech.
The use of proverbs is another example of figurative expression. In Africa, proverbs are generally used as witty expressions to summarize or illustrate one’s thoughts. Okpewho defines proverbs as a piece of folk wisdom expressed with terseness and charm. The “terseness” implies a certain economy in the choice of words and a sharpness of focus. While the “charm” conveys the touch of the literary or poetic beauty in the expression (1992, 226).
Proverbs are semantically dense sayings frequently used by verbal artists. The ability to appropriately use such figurative expressions is a distinctive sign of eloquence. In addition, it is an indication of the speaker’s knowledge of the local language and culture, for proverbs are strongly rooted in the imagery of a people.
Guelwaar quotes a proverb by Kocc Barma, a historical Senegalese figure known and respected for his communicative skills, and commonly referred to as a philosopher, or thinker. The proverb summarizes the idea of dependence and illustrates figuratively the condition of giver and receiver, benefactor and beggar that the ceremony illustrates (line 55-59): “Our ancestor Kocc Barma said, if you want to kill a proud man, supply all his everyday needs, in the long run, you will make him a slave.” The reference to Kocc Barma is meant to remind people of the high moral standards that used to guide their ancestors’ actions. Kocc Barma is referred to as a national pride and the use of the possessive inclusive adjective our, indicates acceptance of him, and affiliation with his principles, or morale. Sembène purposely taps into the significance of the name to stir his listeners’ pride.
[. . . ] performance represents a transformation of the basic referential uses of language. In other words, in artistic performance of this kind, there is something going on in the communicative interchange which says to the auditor, “interpret what I say in some special sense; do not take it to mean what the words alone, taken literally, would convey.2”
Whether Guelwaar’s audience responds with audible verbal signals or not does not deter from their involvement in the speech event. If communicative interaction meant only taking turns between two or more speakers, then it would be vain to look for interactive instances. However, interaction can be seen beyond the scope of the exchange of audible verbal signals. Here, I analyze this nonverbal exchange as a dialogue orchestrated by Sembène to point to the very cancer that is gnawing at the pride of Senegalese people.
During the course of the speech, the focus of the camera shifts from Guelwaar to the political leaders, from the political leaders back to Guelwaar, and then to the people. This cinematic technique of shot-reverse-shot, a typical way of handling conversation in movies, is meant to place Guelwaar center stage, and to make his utterances direct the movement of the camera. In other words, the shifting target of the cameraman is calculated, for it depends entirely on, and is dictated by the person whom Guelwaar addresses in his utterance. For example, when Guelwaar utters line 15, “see our leaders”, the camera moves and focuses on Mr. Diouf, the MP and Baye Ali, his local representative, because they are the leaders of the community, and they represent the government at the local level. The two of them are caught on the spot as they stare at each other in surprise. The gaze they exchange, lasting several seconds, suggests complicity and guilt: complicity of partners in crime who have been stealing, plundering, and wasting the resources of the country; guilt of being caught by the very people who trusted them.
The camera shifts again as Guelwaar utters lines 49 and 50 by moving quickly from Guelwaar to the MP and the Prefet, and then to the representatives of Europe (two light-skinned men in the front row), who also stare at each other in a surprised manner. The two Europeans seem to be taken aback by Guelwaar’s statement on the hypocrisy of foreign aid; the non-verbal communication that takes place between them reveals their discomfort. In the film, the representatives of Europe, as well as all those involved with the government (seated in the gallery opposite the people), are all guilty of the same crime. Guelwaar turns the whole gallery into an accusation bench, where a gang of culprits is seated face to face with their victims, while the prosecutor manipulates the hidden camera.
These shot-reverse-shot sequences that show the shifting of targets from Guelwaar to the audience, and from Guelwaar again to the representatives of the government and the Europeans, strongly support the contention that real non-verbal communication has been taking place. The film’s diegetic audience is a mirror, a microcosm of the extradiegetic audience, its projection in miniature The diegetic audience is a metonym of the outside audience. The extradiegetic audience’s reaction to the film is triggered, informed and certainly influenced by the attitude of the diegetic audience. If Sembène makes obvious the interaction between Guelwaar and his audience within the film, what sort of relationship is there between that audience and us, and how do we, the extradiegetic audience, relate to Guelwaar’s speech?
Sembène often works with two audiences at the same time, and that is particularly striking in Guelwaar and Faat Kine. In Guelwaar, the addressee of the speech constitutes the diegetic audience, which represents all layers of Senegalese society. The over-excited group of drummers, dancers, singers, screaming and clapping hands represent the “common people.” Although some of them are seated in a gallery opposite the officials in this case, normally they are made to stand up in the burning Sahelian sun while waiting for the officials. Sembène connotes his concern about social equity by giving the floor to Guelwaar on this special occasion, and by seating the common people in a gallery similar to and opposite that of the officials. This concern for social equity brings leaders and common people face to face to be arraigned in the name of the younger generation represented by Etienne, the young man standing next to the officials’ gallery.
Etienne is the innocent witness who listens intently to the speech and serves as a link between present and future. Etienne represents the Senegalese youth that is victimized and whose dignity is at stake, for their parents proudly walk down the streets with their hands full of foreign aid food. The fact that Etienne is in neither gallery indicates his neutral position as observer and judge; but by positioning him right below the officials’ gallery, Sembène suggests that he is the future substitute for the officials. Etienne witnesses the trial and makes a note of it. He and his generation represent hope for this community. Guelwaar’s speech fills them with pride, strikes their dignity and piques them into saying “no” to shame and humiliation, “no” to beggary and “no” to their fathers’ ways, as the last episode of the film indicates. Sembène uses Etienne to serve as an inspiration to the outside audience just as he inspires the youth in the film into taking action by emptying and scattering a car full of aid food.
Contrary to Sembène’s mise-en-scène, however, only the officials and a few selected members of society would be seated in the gallery facing the standing masses in front of the gallery. Sembène reaches the extradiegetic audience by explicitly showing how the diegetic audience deals with and reacts to the issue at hand. The extradiegetic audience reads the behavior of the diegetic audience, learns through its utterances and ends up sympathizing with it. By so doing, the extradiegetic audience associates itself and becomes one with the diegetic audience. Sembène works the similarities between the two audiences to the point of fusion. As for Guelwaar, he is presented as a talented and articulate orator who masterfully combines words and gestures to persuade his audience.
Sembène’s mise-en-scène of the speech event is utterly artificial even if the speech points to the core problems that are consuming the pride of Senegalese people. It is artificial and deceptive because it goes beyond normal expectations and echoes Sembène’s strategy of shocking his audience and breaking away from the monolithic and deceptive discourse of politicians. The set up of the speech provides Guelwaar with an opportunity to really preach to a normally inattentive audience. It also deceives the expectations of those who attend verbal performances where, in general, performers strive to please their audiences. While there is no doubt about the power of the speech, which results from the combined effect of prosodic features, cinematography and the orator’s dramatic delivery, Guelwaar’s championing anti-charity crusade morally contradicts his pats on his daughter’s back for prostitution. If he mans to claim that better prostitution than charity, then what about family pride as his wife asks him? What sort of dignity and pride does one preserve by sending the fathers home and their daughters in the streets to feed them? Guelwaar’s pride is clearly mal placé, for a proud husband and a decent father would work harder to preserve the morality of his children, be they daughters? It becomes tempting to wonder here whether pride is not determined by gender and therefore, power, especially when one knows that neither Guelwaar nor Barthelemy condemns Sophie’s prostitution, which implies that women may prostitute themselves to provide for men, but men shall not beg?
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Sembène, Ousmane. Borom Sarret. (The Cart Driver). New Yorker Films (USA) and Metro (UK). Senegal/France 1963. 20mn, 16mm. In French with English Subtitles.
------. Camp de Thiaroye. (Camp Thiaroye). New Yorker films (USA), Metro (UK). Senegal/Tunisia/Algeria 1988. 153mn, 35mm. In Wolof and French with English Subtitles.
------. Ceddo. New Yorker Films (USA), British Film Institute (UK), M H Films France). Senegal 1976. 120mn, 35mm. In Wolof with English Subtitles.
------. Emitaï. (God of Thunder). New Yorker Films (USA), Metro (UK), International Tele-Film Enterprises (Canada). Senegal 1971. 95mn, 35mm. In Joola and French with English Subtitles.
------. Faat Kine. New Yorker films (USA). Senegal 2000. 110mn, 35mm. In Wolof and French with English Subtitles.
------. Guelwaar. New Yorker films (USA), IDERA (Canada). Senegal/France 1992. 115mn, 35mm. In Wolof and French with English Subtitles.
------. L’Empire Songhai. (The Songhai Empire). Republic of Mali, 1963. 20mn, 16mm. In French. (not commercially distributed).
------. La Noire de… (Black Girl). Les Films Domirev, Senegal/France 1966. 65mn, 35mm. In French with English Subtitles.
------. Mandabi. (The Money Order). New Yorker Films (USA), Senegal/France 1968. 105mn, 35mm. In Wolof with English Subtitles.
------. Niaye. Les Films Domirev, Senegal/France 1964. 35mn, 35mm. In French and Wolof.
------. Taaw. New Yorker Films (USA),Senegal 1970. 24mn,16mm. In Wolof with English Subtitles.
------. Xala. (The Curse). New Yorker Films, Contemporary Films (UK). Senegal 974. 116mn, 35mm. In Wolof and French with English Subtitles.
California Newsreel. Ousmane Sembene, the life of a revolutionary artist. Samba Gadjigo.
http://.www.newsreel.org/articles/OusmaneSembene.htm
mdembrow: Interview with Ousmane Sembene, 1975. Michael Dembrow.
http://spot.pcc.edu/~mdembrow/sembene_interview.htm
Quotidien le Soleil- Sénégal. Edition du lundi 10 Mars 2003. http://www.lesoleil.sn/dossiers/articles
Sud Quotidien: Culture. 17 Mai 2004. http://www.sudonline.sn/Rubriques%20Infos/Culture
The Austin Chronicle: Film Guide. Marjorie Baumgarten. 9/6/03 http://www.austinchronicle.com/gbase/Calendar/Film
WalFadjri Senegal: Culture. 23 Juillet 2003. http://www.walf.sn/culture/suite.
1 In daily life, when people realize that you pointing at them, they will point back at you, or simply whisper “na la topp “ [may it follow you] that is, may your curse return on you.
2 Bauman 9
Citation Format:
Amadou T. Fofana. “Guelwaar, A Verbal Performer,” West Africa Review: Issue 8, 2005.
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