Léopold Senghor’s Passion of Culture

Two of the major themes in the poetry of the Léopold Sédar Senghor are the passion of love and cross-culturalism. Senghor's poetry attests to the importance and role of African culture in the world civilization. Through his work, he celebrates the ethnic self and derives his own notions of negritude. He defines negritude as "the totality of values of the black civilization" which "has evolved as a part of the struggle for liberation from the chains of cultural colonization in favor of a new humanism" (TCP, xxviii). Senghor explores the dynamic relationship between Africa and Europe and exposes their cultural dependencies. He is greatly inspired by the concept of "cross-fertilization" between the two cultures because he believes that the exchange of knowledge through culture is an invaluable asset to civilization. Despite the history of war and destructive colonization, he argues for cultural acceptance and openness between Africa and Europe. He uses the passion of love between man and woman to express his own strong passion for African culture.

Senghor conveys an inner struggle between his European present and his African roots in the poem Joal. He assimilated European culture while still holding onto the strong sensory memories of his African upbringing in Joal where his family originated. The poem begins with the exclamation, "Joal!/ I remember." The announcement of his place of origin sits alone on the first line revealing Senghor's attitude of wonder and excitement. At first he imbues only vague momentum to his memories which alights the reader to their large potential and depth. He focuses his general recollection by launching into his memories of "the regal signare women under the green shade/ of verandas." It is significant that his first memory is of the bourgeois, mulatto women of Joal. The sensuality and surreal mystery of the signare women are signs of his passion for his birthplace. He writes, "Those mulatto signare women with eyes as surreal as/ moonlight on the shore." The repetition of "signare women" emphasizes his fascination with them. He welcomes their coy images in his mind's eye. He coaxes them out from under the shade of the verandas and finds their eyes in the night. The image of the women shrouded in shadows and the simile that exalts the intimate mysticism of their eyes show Senghor's passion for his cultural home.

Senghor continues to string along remembrances of cultural rituals. In his memory, everything appears mythical and grand. He echoes the majesty of the signare women in his remembrance of the king, Koumba N'Doféne who wanted the "past glory of Sunset" "woven into his royal cloak." The glory that the king desires is based on the natural glory and power of the sunset. Although the figurative language here is simple and unambiguous, Senghor uses it very well in describing the king's wish for something literally impossible but so believable figuratively. "I remember the funeral feasts steaming with the blood of/ slaughtered livestock,/ The noise of quarrels, the rhapsodies of the griots." Senghor captures the rich, active vitality of the community with the image of slaughtered livestock which was so fresh the blood was still warm and steaming. In Europe, the funeral is typically not a time of celebration and feasting. Senghor utilizes the cultural differences between Europe and Africa to create the compelling image of the funeral feast. Senghor actually relies on the cultural differences of his readers being to give the image of a funeral feast its power. He awakens the European to African vitality. He paints the imagery of the food, noise, and rhapsodies of the community celebrating death. Death did not weigh down his people; it was a chance to affirm life. The juxtaposition of "the noise of quarrels" and the "rhapsodies of the griots" emphasizes the variety of different sounds one could hear at such a feast. A rhapsody is a song expressing ecstatic, blissful emotions, and Senghor leaves this short stanza with that sound which reveals his own passionate love for his culture.

In the next stanza, Senghor sets the wrestling and spirited dancing of his people in a landscape of sound and motion. He finishes his image pattern of respected authority that began with the regal signare women, moved to the royal cloak of Koumba N'Dofene, and ends in "The processions and the palms and the triumphal arches." Senghor longingly writes, "I remember the dance of nubile girls." The women Senghor envisages are no longer shrouded or elusive in any way; their presence is strong in his mind because they dance for him, and he knows that they are ready to be married. He creates the tension of possible romantic love. He appeals to the reader's hearing again when he speaks of the "wrestling songs." Senghor exclaims, "Oh! the final dance of the young men/ Poised slender and tall." The sound and image of wrestling mixed with a climactic dance implies a closeness of bodies. The relationships between the young people is very physical because of their engagement in wrestling and dance. As the girls watch the boys wrestle and dance they call out to them. Senghor recalls, "And the women's pure shout of love – Kor Siga!" Amidst the competition and physicality of the young men, the women's encouragement and affection heightens the passion of the poem and alights the sensual and sexual in the poem. Senghor's poem is itself a "pure shout of love" for his African past.

Senghor continues to build a picture of Joal through memories until the last stanza of the poem. Living in France and assimilating French culture, Senghor feels homesick for Africa. His passion for Serer culture is intensified through memory and longing. The memories of Joal trail off into the vagueness of an ellipse in the first line of the last stanza, "I remember, I remember ..." The next two lines, "My head beating the rhythm/ Of such a weary walk through the long days of Europe" reveal how unhappy Senghor is in his present. He is laden with weariness. The dances are replaced with walking, and the happy feasts of funerals are subsumed by long days of Europe. In tracing the poem from the last stanza to the first, the repeated appearance of women and the sensuality of his imagery reveal Senghor's obsession with the passion of love and his love for the African culture that shaped his early identity. Senghor's attitude of abandonment is implied in the last line, "Where sometimes an orphan jazz comes sobbing, sobbing, sobbing." The "orphan jazz" is the music of his present, and it is lonely, uprooted, and without mother or father, in comparison to the dances and shouts of pure love in Joal. His repetition of "sobbing" gives the poem an elegiac cadence in its last moments that resonates after the poem is over. Feeling homesick and alienated in Europe, Senghor escapes with his memories of security, trust, and passion for what he knew in Joal. His passion for the women of Joal is shown in his emphasis on physical expression in dance and close contact between bodies in wrestling. He longs for the security of powerful leaders like Koumba N'Dofene; he longs for the safety of his African identity and culture; he longs for the vital sounds, smells, and images of Joal. It is as if Senghor is passionately pining for a separated lover. In Joal, his love is with his African origins. (TCP, 7-8)

In Snow in Paris, Senghor expresses his anger and frustration that stems from the political upheaval in Europe and the colonization of Africa. The speaker's voice is that of Senghor's and he addresses his Lord with the apostrophe in the first line. "Lord, you have visited Paris on this day of your birth/ Because it has become mean and evil,/ You have purified it with incorruptible cold, with white/ death." Senghor's Catholic upbringing and his reference to the snow on his lord's birthday implies that his lord is Jesus Christ and the day is Christmas. Senghor thanks the Lord for the snow on Christmas. The snow is a metaphor for moral purification; Senghor welcomes the "incorruptible cold" and the "white death" that combats the mean and evil Paris. In his testament to his Lord, Senghor confesses his troubles. The image of "white death" surprises the reader because the expected implications of death are morbidity and darkness. The unexpected image implies that the snow purifies Paris. Furthermore, "white death" suggests the presence of the white Europeans that colonized Africa and tormented the African people. Willfully, choosing to live in a white European city, Senghor struggles with his present reality and what he knows of his African history. The synthesis of his struggle is a concept of universality that comes only from the open exchange of different cultures. The color white is repeated again with the appearance of "white flags" which is accompanied with singing, "Peace to Men of Good Will!" Senghor esteems the men of good will, men with universal spirits, as pure and praiseworthy.

Senghor expounds upon the malignancy and evil present in Europe when he writes, "Lord, you have offered the snow of your Peace to a torn/ world." He sees Europe divided and Spain ravaged. He describes Catholic and Jewish rebels firing multitudes of cannons upon the Lord's mountain of Peace. He implies that the violence and bloodshed between men offends not only him but also God. Senghor begins to unravel his idea of universality as he lets go of his dissatisfaction with European political upheaval when he writes, "Lord, I have accepted your white cold, burning hotter than/ salt./ And now my heart melts like snow in the sun." The paradox of white cold burning hotter than salt implies that the cold can cauterize the strife Senghor sees inside and outside of himself.

As the snow shrouds Europe's evil and the intense coldness begins to clean Europe's wounds, Senghor recounts the crimes of the Europeans against the Africans. The poem intensifies with the next stanza's opening line, "I forget", which is ironic because the entire intensification stanza is a remembrance. The irony implies that Senghor would like to forget the crimes and animosity during Europe's long colonization of Africa. The color white is used repeatedly to describe the hands that fire rifles and strike violently. Senghor intensifies his anger toward the white colonists with every repetition of "white hands." He remembers, "The white hands firing the rifles that crumbled our empires,/ The hands that once whipped slaves, and that whipped you, /The snowy white hands that slapped you,/ The powdery white hands that slapped me." Senghor takes each violent act against the African people as a crime against him and the Lord that he looks to for moral guidance. He focuses on the hands of the white men that destroyed parts of Africa with their invasive colonization. The hands are described in the same language as snow with the adjectives "powdery", "snowy", and "white" which reciprocally implies the coldness and oppressiveness of the Europeans' rampage of Africa. Senghor continues with simple, honest language, "The firm hands that led me to loneliness and to hate,/ The white hands that led me to loneliness and to hate…They cut down Africa's forests to save Civilization,/ Because they needed human raw materials." The theft and displacement of African culture, forests, land, and people are the crimes that Senghor will not forget. He does not call for an outrage against the Europeans; the colonization and the animosity between Europe and Africa appear to him as a problem that must be solved, not a sore to be exacerbated by furthering malignancy.

Senghor will not let go of his hatred for the corrupt politicians in Africa who showed Europe "their long canine teeth" and then "tomorrow trade in black flesh." He likens the diplomats that dealt in slaves to angry dogs; his hatred and anger for political betrayers runs deep. The easing of his heart comes through his relationship with his Lord and his own moral philosophy of universal cultural acceptance. The Lord's gentleness is a model to Senghor's own open-mindedness. "My heart, Lord, has melted like snow on the roofs of Paris/ In the sunshine of your gentleness." "It is kind even unto my enemies and unto my brothers/ With hands white without snow/ Because of these hands of dew, in the evening,/ Upon my burning cheeks." Senghor celebrates his newly found kindness of heart that allows him to call his fellow white Europeans "brothers." The image of "hands white without snow" is significant because Senghor sees the white man in a new light; he sees beyond the coldness and harshness of the imperial white man as the snow melts. Despite the evil and meanness Senghor sees in the past, he suggests that the warmth of his own hands melts the metaphorical coldness that literally shrouded the white man's hands. (TCP, 12-13)

Senghor extols the value of African culture with religious fervor in Prayer to the Masks. The voice of the poem is again the author's. He exclaims his address to the masks, "Masks! O Masks!" as if to get their attention and begin a serious prayer to them. Senghor treats the masks as inheritances of his culture and he personifies them when he addresses them as his ancestors. He writes, "And you, not the least of all, Ancestor with the lion head." He stresses the colors of the masks, "Black mask, red mask, you white-and-black masks," and he implies that one of the values of the masks is the variety of their colors. The arrangement of different colors engages him. Furthermore, the combination of the metaphor of the masks as his Ancestors and the differing colors of his masks reveals the eclectic nature of culture, black and white, African and European, that Senghor culls for himself. The masks are universal archetypes for man. Senghor writes, "Masks of the four cardinal points where the Spirit blows/ I greet you in silence!" The Spirit unifies the four cardinal points which in this line suggest the inhabitation of the entire earth. His contemplative tone is signified by his silence. He is poised, ready to listen to what the masks have to say. This readiness to listen is ironic because the entire poem is filled with Senghor's wise, guiding voice, and he even later writes, "And in your image, listen to me!" "Masks with faces without masks, stripped of every dimple/ And every wrinkle" tell the true value of the African culture.

Without obscure frivolities or ambiguous language Senghor explains the plight of Africa and Europe. "The Africa of empires is dying-it is the agony/ Of a sorrowful princess/ And Europe, too, tied to us at the navel." Senghor groups Africa and Europe together as dying because he recognizes the dependencies they have on each other. The tie between Europe and Africa literally "at the navel" is a very intimate one and alludes to the umbilical cord that ties a mother to her baby. Senghor wishes to reconcile the differences and the turbulent history between Europe and Africa in an attempt at cultural exchange and broadening. He calls for a of rebirth in consciousness, "Let us answer 'present' at the rebirth of the World/ As white flour cannot rise without the leaven." The metaphor implies that the African people are the catalysts necessary for the advancement of the European. He calls for an immediate rebirth of the world which is the next stage in the life cycle since he recognizes that Africa and Europe are dying. Senghor accentuates the dependency between African culture and European culture when he writes, "Who else will teach rhythm to the world/ Deadened by machines and cannons?/ Who will sound the shout of joy at daybreak to wake/ orphans and the dead?" Since drumming and dancing are pillars of African culture Senghor sees Africa as necessary to teach the rest of the world what she already knows so well. He suggests that the industrial revolution that took place in Europe and the technology revolutions that continue there are destroying the world. To balance the over-industrialization and overemphasis on progressive technology, the spread of African values, art, and tradition is necessary. He implies that in African culture the "orphans and the dead" are given more of a presence in daily life than in European culture and that the Europeans could foster a greater community if they wakened their lost ones and ancestors. Senghor questions the masks again, "Tell me, who will bring back the memory of life/ To the man of gutted hopes?"

Senghor answers these questions, "They call us men of cotton, coffee, and oil/ They call us men of death./ But we are men of dance, whose feet get stronger/ As we pound upon firm ground." He tears down the view of Africa as a stronghold of valuable raw materials and human labor. He dispels the opinion that Africans are men "of death," and asserts that they are the affirmation of life through the beauty of their dance. Senghor uses dance as a symbol for the strength, grace, flexibility, creativity, and beauty of African culture, and he clearly finds the uplifting rumblings of rebirth in the pounding of feet on the ground. He implies that the African is more in touch with the elemental earth before it was disfigured by technological revolution, and the European must seek to understand the essential, primal side of human nature. The recognition that European and African cultures are dependent on one another and that the intertwining of the two in a cultural exchange as a prerequisite for progress supports Senghor's theme of cross-culturalism that burgeoned into universality. (TCP, 13-14)

In Congo, Senghor finds the primal passions of love for a woman a perfect metaphor for the love and pride he has for the Congo's rich landscape. The subtitle in parentheses that appears under the title says, "(guimm for three koras and one balaphon)" which means that the poem is made to be accompanied with three stringed instruments and one xylophone. Many of Senghor's poems are often prefaced with a list of instruments to accompany the poem which shows his stress on the musicality of his language. In the first stanza, Senghor calls out to the Congo, "Oho! Congo oho! To sound your mighty name upon the/ waters,/ On rivers, on every memory, let me rouse the voice of koras/ Koyaté!"

In the first line of the second stanza Senghor personifies the Congo as a queen; "Oho! Congo, lying on your bed of forests, queen of subdued/ Africa." He uses the sexual intensity between man and woman to communicate the passionate love he has for the Congo's exuberant flora and fauna. He extols the Congo and makes clear his transformation of the Congo into a woman, "May the mountain phalluses hold high your pavilion/ For you are woman by my head, by my tongue,/ You are woman by my belly." In his voice, mind, and stomach, the Congo appears to Senghor as a majestic and beautiful woman. The poet describes the Congo, "Mother of all creatures that draw breath, crocodiles,/ Hippopotamuses, sea cows, iguanas,/ Fish, birds, mother of floods, wet nurse to harvests." The Congo's maternity is a metaphor for the ability of the region to nurture so many different kinds of plants and animals. Mother nature rules a full and diverse kingdom in the Congo region; the Congo thrums with life. Senghor marvels and increases the sexual tension when he writes, "Magnificent woman! Water as open to oars as to the/ pirogues' prow." A pirogue is a boat shaped like a canoe which continues the pattern of phallic imagery introduced with "mountain phalluses" earlier. Senghor writes, "My Saô, my lover with ardent thighs and long, calm/ Water-lily arms. Precious woman of ouzougou." Ouzougou is a tropical tree whose wood makes beautiful furniture which emphasizes the architecture of the Congo's beauty. Senghor completely submits to the hold that his lover has on him when he writes, "Oh you Malaria- infested one of your lineage,/ Deliver me from the rising of my blood." He demands the cure from what is ironically the source of his sickness which shows need and dependency. The conceits that link the land to his lover imply Senghor has deep feelings of passion for the Congo region.

The passionate love affair that Senghor has with the personified Congo puts him in a position to seek deliverance and explore his feeling of freedom within the territory of his lover's body. He asks his lover to deliver him again from "this joyless night/ And the watch of the silent woods." He imagines what the freedom from his sadness and fear would mean, "Then I can…be the pirogue's glide/ On the smooth thrust of your belly./ Clearings of your breasts, isles of love, amber and gongo/ hills, Childhood flats in Joal and Dyilôr in September." The sensual and sexual language used here imply that Senghor believes his feelings for his lover gives him the adequate imagery and vocabulary for also expressing his love and passion for Africa. He builds on the familiarity he has with the places he is most rooted like Joal where he grew up. "Serene flowers of your hair, petals so white from your/ mouth,/ Especially the sweet words on the feast of the new moon,/ Until the midnight of my blood." Senghor shows the intimacy he has with his lover's exoticism with the image of white petals coming from her mouth and the halo of flowers in her hair. He tenderly remembers their dialogues, and he repeatedly refers to his "blood." The image of blood implies the passion that physically courses through his body because blood is the most vibrantly colored and omnipresent artifact of the body. The echo of "blood" resounds when Senghor pleads, "Free me from the night of my blood, for the silence/ Of forests keeps watch."

In the intensifying stanza, Senghor describes the beauty in the dependency he has on his lover, "My strength rises in surrender, my honor in submission,/ My skill in the instinct of your rhythm." The repetition of the speaker's attributes and the final stress on the lover's "rhythm" reveal the strong emotional bond between the speaker and his lover. Senghor completely trusts his lover as he submits himself to her rhythms. The imagery becomes even more sensual when Senghor writes, "The lead dancer centers his force at the prow of his sex,/ Like the bold hunter of sea cows." This implies that the exploration of his lover's waters in his pirogue fills him with the rhythmic and sexual forces of dance. "Beat the rhythm of bells, beat tongues, beat oars/ Dance of the Master Oarsman." Again Senghor appeals to the sounds and imagery of his African culture with a passion that can only be expressed through the heart of a man in love. (TCP, 76-8)

Works Cited

All quotations are from:

Senghor, Leopold. Trans. by Melvin Dixon. Léopold Sédar Senghor: The Collected Poetry. University Press of Virginia, Charlottesville: 1991.

This book is abbreviated TCP for The Collected Poetry throughout the paper.

Other sites: biography of Senghor