Nigerian playwright, Wole Soyinka, published Death and the King’s Horseman in 1975, at a time when Nigeria’s military dictatorship was at its most critical. The times were marked by multiple coups that sprang from intermittent points in time. Added to this turbulent period was the Biafran War, or the Nigerian Civil War, that horribly marred the young nation. Soyinka’s work bears the markings of these political events. He saw it fit to raise the cause of what it meant for people to live and even die under such conditions. Soyinka was a member of that unique group of African writers and intellectuals that rose to prominence in the dying days of colonialism. He, like his peers at the time, witnessed the promises of independence and lived through the failure of those promises.
Soyinka realized that the beauty and pageantry of independence would not last, and that the new stewards of power would repeat the evils of their colonial oppressors onto the now independent African populous. This caused him to have an adamant stance against political actors who willfully took advantage of the system. He kept the Nigerian power players ill-at-ease in the same vein as his cousin, the legendary father of Afrobeats, Fela Kuti did through his socially conscious music and activism. Soyinka’s defiance and outspokenness finally led him to be deemed an enemy of the state by the powers at the time. This resulted in imprisonment and varying degrees of political persecution. His political activism took on an even more serious tone when he held a radio broadcasting studio at gun point, commanding that the then election results be cut from air.
This did not sit well with those above, and Soyinka would spend the rest of his writing career between Nigeria and the West, between exile and home. In the climate of post-independent African society Soyinka did not see how politics could be separated from art since both were a reflection of life. He resisted calls for the separation of political action from artistic life. And it is in the quagmire of these multifaceted perspectives and happenings of history that we find Soyinka’s subversive masterpiece, Death and the King’s Horseman.
In the play, Soyinka focuses on the character of Elesin, he is the horseman of the king. The title and position of being the king’s horseman meant that Elesin was a close friend and advisor to the king. The title also carried with it one great duty: that thirty days after the king’s death the horseman would have to enter a trance and commit ritual suicide. This had to be done willingly in order to fulfil a mandated task that required the horseman to lead and guide the king from the world of the living to that of the ancestors.
So Elesin becomes the horse, that is, the vehicle or mode of transport which will carry the king safely to the other world. And failure to do this would mean that the king's spirit would be left to wander the earth without a guide and thus bring harm to the people. Understanding, or at least appreciating African metaphysical spirituality becomes a key path to uncovering the deep layers of this great play. And what we see here is the cosmological balance of the world, the African world, being torn apart by individuals who fail to do their part when called to. This failure is embedded in a sadness and lamentation, which Soyinka refers to as threnodic. Simply meaning that the play is a funeral song, a dirge for the dead.
Oswaldo Guayasamin
Elesin
When the time arrives for Elesin to fulfil his duties as horseman (to go ahead with the suicide) we see that he is vibrant, jubilant, and full of life. He parades the market streets in celebration as though it’s a wedding he is about to attend instead of his own death. He is accompanied by a praise-singer. The praise-singer, or properly termed in west African societies – the Griot, was an entertainer, musician, and historian who sat at the king’s side and rendered these services. So Elesin is clearly not showing signs of someone who is ready to die.
As he parades the streets, enjoying all the pleasures his remaining life can provide him, a matriarch of the marketplace by the name of Iyaloja approaches him. She warns Elesin not to be distracted by his surroundings. She worries that his attachment to this world could lure him from the sacred task he has to perform. She reminds Elesin of the consequences that come with taking the ritual too lightly. But Elesin brushes her remarks to the side. He sees a lovely young woman, and impulsively decides that he would like to have her as his final bride.
Josep Tapiró Baró
The young woman, who happens to be betrothed to another, is given to Elesin (surprisingly by Iyaloja) in a compromised effort to fulfil the dying man’s last wish. So not only does Elesin compromise himself, he drags everyone else along with him. Elesin did not only have power, but he also had influence, now probably more than the dead king himself. So it is clear to see why Soyinka was deeply concerned about leaders of society. Soyinka believed that these leaders, be they political, religious, or communal, had the power and capacity to steer people in certain directions, as they pleased.
He was sceptical about their influence. But more than this, he questioned their commitment to the tribe. In Elesin we clearly see a leader in conflict. Elesin is duty bound but he still lingers in the world of his desires. We gradually see him put his personal needs before the tribe’s. And as the play continues we see that his speech and conduct are simply covert tactics used to interrupt the ritual. Elesin is an outspoken individual, good with words and knows what is at stake. But it is all a mask.
Internally, his most intimate intentions are those of diverting the responsibilities of his title, yet still be close enough to enjoy its perks. The idea of sacrifice is prominent here, or lack thereof. Soyinka shows here that positions of power within society can be easily corrupted due to unchecked proclivities tied to human nature.
And since Soyinka views the position of leadership quite highly, he also recognises the ripple-effects of its bad qualities. The failures of a leader are far more harmful than those of ordinary members of society, according to Soyinka, because their failure to act dutifully affects families, communities, and even whole nations. For Soyinka the responsibility lies squarely on those who consider themselves to speak for the tribe.
Simon Pilkings
In the second scene of the play we are introduced to a couple (Simon and Jane Pilkings). They are stationed at a colonial outpost overlooking Britain’s interests in the surrounding area. The scene opens to Simon and his wife Jane dancing a tango whilst adorned in egungun masks. To this British couple these masks are no different from any other costume worn at a European masquerade banquet. But not far from where they dance stands an officer by the name of Amusa.
Although being Muslim, Amusa finds it shocking that the Pilkings have worn these masks and have paraded them around the compound so flippantly. Already we see the vast gap that is presented between these cultures. The treatment of these masks by the Pilkings is reflective of an even greater worldview that fails to understand African culture and it’s most sacred icons. When seen from an African point of view, the treatment of the sacred is quite different from that of the West. Many societies of the African continent still have their spiritual orientation intact, mainly manifested in Christianity, Islam, and in indigenous religions.
Edel Rodriguez
This way of relating to the world of the beyond is contrary to most Western societies that have distanced themselves from anything resembling the metaphysical. And naturally so, European cultures don’t have a definitive mask wearing ritual that is grounded in religiosity. For the West, mask wearing plays the function of concealment – the hiding of one’s identity and possibly even what their true intentions are. The masquerade ball is a gathering of avatars among other avatars, a celebration and a time of entertainment rather than a requiem.
This is what the Pilkings mistake the masks for, we could probably say the same for Elesin, who goes about the market place in celebration of life rather than in preparation for death. When it comes to African masks, its design and function are not limited to the realm of aesthetics – there is a performative aspect to it that is embedded in a ritual that bears the necessary powers to transmogrify the physical into the spiritual. The mask is an immersive totem, a glimpse of a world beyond, a low-resolution image of what an existence that transcends our own can appear to us as, and in so doing bridge the gap between the world of the living and the spirit.
And this is where western museums get it wrong, these masks aren’t aesthetic artifacts meant to be displayed in some pristine public halls for the commercial exploit of art enthusiasts. The relocation of these masks from Africa to Europe are relocations of spiritual memorabilia. Essentially the plundering of these masks into Europe, and housing them in places like the Louvre or the British Museum have severed Africa’s long held spiritual ties to its ancient past.
This fundamental failure from the Pilkings, to understand and appreciate these primal images, is why they misunderstood the ritual suicide that Elesin needed to perform. Soon enough John Pilkings gets word of this ritual. He decides to intervene, deeming the suicide reckless and even illegal according to British customs and standards. His decision to halt the proceedings of the ritual saves Elesin from having to commit to it. The English man’s involvement and Elesin’s reluctance causes a problem for the community, who are still bound to the cosmological makeup of the Yoruba worldview. And according to them their world has now been disrupted, and immediate shame and dishonour has been brought to the house of Elesin.
Olunde
Olunde, who happens to be Elesin’s eldest son, returns to Nigeria from England, after having spent some time studying medicine abroad. Olunde is much more reflective and conscious of the short comings of both cultures – Nigerian and British, since having now lived in both countries. Upon his arrival he is welcomed by Jane Pilkings (Simon’s wife). He wears a suit and appears to be quite westernised. Jane Pilkings is delighted to see this, because his outward western appearance somehow validates the superiority of one culture over the other.
But what she fails to see is that Olunde, although appearing to have the look of a westernised man, is actually deeply committed to the ways of his culture. When he meets her she is still adorned in the ancestral mask, prodding around nonchalantly. She assumes Olunde wouldn’t take offence to this, since he now appears to be one of her own, an honorary English man. But Olunde’s remark surprises her when he says, ‘I have now spent four years among your people. I discovered that you have no respect for what you do not understand.’
Olunde’s response immediately changes the tone of the conversation, and Mrs Pilkings realises that the young impressionable man she once knew had now grown into a different man. He further punctuates this by telling Mrs Pilkings that he has come to bury his father. She questions the morality of the ritual and believes it to be absurd. But Olunde rebuttals and says, ‘Is that worse than mass suicide,’ referring to the Second World War which had been occurring at the time.
By referring to this piece of history Olunde allows us to see the aspect of ritualistic suicide from a different perspective. For the Yoruba, Elesin’s sacrifice was tied to the idea of bringing cosmological balance to society. Now could we not say that the warring nations of the West, in the height of both World Wars, were trying to achieve a similar cosmological balance, understood through the non-metaphysical terms of geopolitical interests. And were not the many youths of that time driven to careless death as a sign of national pride and freedom, the very underpinnings of what a ritual suicide would entail? Olunde concludes the conversation by telling Mrs Pilkings that he has a funeral to attend to. Unbeknownst to him, his father is locked up in a dungeon that once held slaves who were to be shipped to the New World.
Wilde Meyer
He is held there by the orders of Simon Pilkings, who is preventing him from performing the ritual. When Olunde hears of his father’s arrest and failure to go through with the ritual he disowns his father and refers to him as eater of leftovers. Olunde then prepares himself to take up his father’s role as horseman of the king.He decides to reinstate the honour of his family and restore the order of the community’s universe. Tragedy strikes, and that all too familiar setting, where son is sacrificed instead of father, is revisited in the closing chapters of this play.
Soyinka Today
Death and the King’s Horseman explores the link between mythology and performance. These rich indigenous forms of practice and performance have propelled Nigeria into the forefront of African postcolonial writing. The power of mythic writing can be seen in the works of Amos Tutoula and Ben Okri. Soyinka imbues these textures into his play, providing his drama with a mythopoetic language that’s grounded in the Yoruba worldview. Soyinka treats this world with as much gravitas as the world of actual things. The choice to use mythic depictions in a play grounded in reality becomes quite clear when we see what the playwright was trying to achieve – mythic writing seeks to unveil.
And it is the perfect tool to uncover things suppressed by governments and their leaders. Soyinka has always been concerned with the role of the artist in society, believing that their presence is just as much, if not at times, more important than the political elites that run things. This play touches on themes of selfish leadership, the sacredness of tradition, and the consequences of failing to fulfil one’s duties. And when we pay close attention to history we recall those African leaders who fell for the traps of hedonism, thus leading entire nations into calamity. But beyond the political allegories that one can attach to this play, Soyinka simply reminds us that the actions of those in power will always bear consequences to those without.
Wole Soyinka is already regarded as one of the most important African playwrights of the time, alongside figures like Mbongeni Ngema, Ola Rotimi and others. There have been criticism against Soyinka’s style. Some have said that he is too elitist and that he heavily relies on western theatrical models in much of his plays. This has been a problem for many other African writers, who have struggled to make the English language reflect the cadences and patterns of African speech and thought. This has caused some critics of Soyinka to label him as too difficult for the commoner to understand, deeming his prose as if written with a white audience in mind.
But Soyinka’s reasoning, and in his own defense, was that his audience would have been capable of grasping and would have even appreciated the style in which the play was written. And I believe he is right. People of the African continent are a diverse group that come with all sorts of interests and artistic inclinations. Language has never been a problem since many are bilingual – having English or French as a second or even third language. This ability to speak, exchange ideas, and even embody cultures from other parts of the world, is testament to the broad cultural consumption of its people. And if so, how can an eager African populous not wrestle with the plays of their own renowned Nobel laureate.
Closing Quote
‘Now forget the dead, forget even the living.
Turn your mind only to the unborn.’
- Iyaloja, Death and the King's Horseman
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