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Akele songs of the Mwiri rite
Our series on Akele songs is reaching its final episode… Last week we offered a glimpse on songs of the Njembe ceremony, an initiatory rite reserved to women; this week we’re taking a look on another rite, the Mwiri, involving only the men.
The Mwiri rite of passage, through which a child becomes a man, is known for being quite harsh. Boys undertake the initiation when they reach their teens and have to go through a range of painful trials, possibly including scarification. The Mwiri does not involve hallucinogenic plants like the Bwiti does, where applicants take Iboga.
One of the features of rites such as the Mwiri is the secret kept around them. Anthropologist Julien Bonhomme notes that one cannot tell secrets to a boy before he has been initiated, as there is no certainty whether he’ll be able to keep them to himself or not. Once through the initiation, however, he is no longer able to reveal any of these secrets to the uninitiated: he’d be eaten by the Mwiri genie if he did. Indeed, during the ceremony, neophytes swear never to betray the secrets they are entrusted with by their elders. Thus the Mwiri acts as some sort of magic authority of secrecy.
And of course women are left out of these secrets: as Julien Bonhomme further notes, initiatory institutions such as the Mwiri are instruments of masculine power. A statement which the initiated sometimes acknowledge most explicitly: “if a man tells his wife everything, how will he keep dominating her?”
While these initiatory ceremonies are executed in total secrecy, they remain an opportunity for public celebration, including songs and dances which have lived through the ages, as observes the choir leader in the video we present here.
Beyond the uncommon beauty of these repetitive and groovy melodies, some of the lyrics may come across as hard to understand… for the uninitiated! One of them especially, the one mentioning leaking basins: a metaphor of knowledge, remaining untransmitted and thus gradually fading…
Linguist: Jean-Marie Hombert
Camera and sound: Luc-Henri Fage
Translation: Hugues Awanhet
Editing: Caroline Laurent