Defining Court Song
My definition of court song repertoire in this book is grounded in the fact that the social rule of the court has historically extended beyond its walls. In this sense, court performers have served as mediators between these interior and exterior spaces. This dynamic was evident in the work and role of the king’s private harpist (omulanga) or bow harp (ennanga) player before Uganda’s national government launched a military operation on Buganda’s Mmengo royal court (olubiri) in 1966 and subsequently abolished all the kingdoms in 1967.1For a more detailed discussion of the political events of 1966 and 1967, see chapter 1. Some people speculate that the bow harp player’s title might have been derived from both the name of his musical instrument (ennanga) and the verb okulanga (literally, “to announce”). Others argue that his ability to foretell events informed listeners to take appropriate action. As Majwala pointed out, within the court the harp player entertained and advised the king and other royals. He was the only one permitted to point out the king’s faults and correct him.
The harpist would also occasionally leave the court and travel among the various communities of the kingdom. During his travels he performed songs for the masses that informed them about court affairs. In response, the masses would tell him whatever problems they were facing because they knew he held a close relationship with the king. They knew that he could facilitate change, so they eagerly shared their stories with him, whether they sought him out themselves to tell him a specific problem or he overheard them talking about problems during his travels. The harpist would note all the issues that were on the people’s minds, such as famine or poor infrastructure, and then would return to the court to compose songs with which he could deliver this information to the king. He spent a lot of time composing and preparing these songs for the leader, experimenting with lyrics and delivery methods until he reached a combination that communicated the message effectively.
The rapid rise of foreign media and technology during the twentieth century resulted in a decline in the court harpist’s power and importance. As people began using devices that enabled near-instant communication, this traditional channel of communication between the masses and their king became increasingly obsolete.2Majwala interview, September 22, 2003. The harpist and other musicians’ movement back and forth between the court and its exterior not only enabled them to acquire fresh material for the songs that they used to deliver news and communicate important information but also shaped the identity of those songs.
Most of the court songs I selected for this project are part of a standard repertoire that musicians have historically composed and performed for court events and passed down from generation to generation. A few are original compositions by individuals who have served in the court. Taking cues from the contributions of these musicians, my analysis defines court song broadly—as a cover term for works with lyrics that make direct reference to court life and royal politics as well as songs that, although composed in and performed by court musicians outside the court context, make no direct reference to these topics.
One such example is “He Has a Lot on His Mind” (“Alina Bingi By’Alowooza”), which engages with the distress of contemporary politics by invoking a previous period in Ugandan politics (this song is discussed in chapter 10). The song comments on the prior dissolution of Buganda and suggests that the kingdom’s leader is preoccupied with its affairs, but these themes only become apparent with knowledge of the background story that accompanies the composition. Thus, the performer’s implicit reference to the themes leaves room for the lyrics to be applicable to other sociopolitical contexts.
Similarly, “Ssematimba and Kikwabanga” (discussed in chapter 19) recounts the tragedy of two brothers who died in battle before they could enjoy the goats they were saving to eat later. The song serves as a lesson to be thankful for each living moment and not to count one’s chickens before they hatch. The composition’s background story reveals its connections to Kiganda royal politics—the two brothers in question were Baganda warriors whom King Ssuuna II (r. ca. 1832–1857) appointed to go to war.
Another song that does not distinctly refer to royal politics is “Poland” (“Polanda”), which recounts some of the events of World War II (see chapter 20). Its background story reveals that court performers, as representatives of the people, composed the song in response to Buganda’s decision to send troops to fight in the war. This context provides insights into how some “court songs” use global events to refer to power dynamics in Uganda’s political spheres. As a result, “Poland” suggests the universal nature of political conflict.
“The Battle of Nsinsi” (“Olutalo olw’e Nsinsi”) also makes no direct reference to Buganda. The song narrates a very violent conflict at a place known as Nsinsi (see chapter 21). Highlighting the tragedies of war and the ubiquitous nature of violence, the song’s background story discloses a historical conflict between Buganda and one of its neighboring kingdoms, Bunyoro. In a related fashion, the lyrics of “Let Me Plod with a Stick Close to Kibuuka” (“Ka Nsimbe Omuggo awali Kibuuka”) focus on marital and family conflict (see chapter 22), but the song’s citation of Kibuuka, the Kiganda deity of battles, suggests his role in various Kiganda sociopolitical contexts, including royal ones. Furthermore, the performer of “The Pebble Is Breaking Me” (“Akayinja Kammenya”) represents the spirit of a deceased person, who compares the world of the living with that of the dead (see chapter 23). This song’s focus on the effects of death, including its ability to take leaders, makes it relevant to various social and political domains. It is these compositions’ indirect reference to court, royal, or kingship affairs that qualified them as court songs.
As mentioned previously, this study also analyzes performances of original songs that were composed by court musicians outside the court, in non-royal contexts. These included “Federo,” or “Federalism” (see chapter 8), which a single former court artist composed in the early 1990s and presented with his private performing group in many national political contexts. The song’s lyrics deal with subjects such as corruption, inequality, imperialism, and conflict in contemporary Uganda. They specifically protest against the Ugandan national government, accusing it of bureaucratic decisions that lead to the unjust suffering of its people. “Federalism” is an ideal composition for the post-1993 period, which has seen some former court artists engage with national politics through fresh compositions that draw on their deep knowledge of Kiganda politics and musical practices. Compositions like “Federalism,” appropriate for broader political discourse, have become commonplace at campaign events, during which artists use them to advise the masses, impact how they choose candidates, and shape political leaders’ perspectives on policy. The label “court song” is appropriate for songs such as “Federalism” because their creation is partly inspired by composers’ and performers’ experiences with royal politics and expertise in court musical idioms.
 
1     For a more detailed discussion of the political events of 1966 and 1967, see chapter 1. »
2     Majwala interview, September 22, 2003. »