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This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

A Little Book of Profitable Tales

E >> Eugene Field >> A Little Book of Profitable Tales




[Illustration: Musical notation]

The old poet was delighted. Never before had he seen such a sight; never
before had he heard so sweet music. Round and round whirled the sprite
dancers; the thousand and ten glowworms caught the rhythm of the music
that floated up to them, and they swung their lamps to and fro in time
with the fairy waltz. The plumes in the hats of the cunning little ladies
nodded hither and thither, and the tiny swords of the cunning little
gentlemen bobbed this way and that as the throng of dancers swept now
here, now there. With one tiny foot, upon which she wore a lovely shoe
made of a tanned flea's hide, the fairy queen beat time, yet she heard
every word which the gallant elf prince said. So, with the fairy queen
blushing, the mellow lamps swaying, the elf prince wooing, and the throng
of little folk dancing hither and thither, the fairy music went on and
on:--

[Illustration: Musical notation]

"Tell me, my fairy queen," cried the old poet, "whence comes this fairy
music which I hear? The Seven Crickets in the hedge are still, the birds
sleep in their nests, the brook dreams of the mountain home it stole away
from yester morning. Tell me, therefore, whence comes this wondrous fairy
music, and show me the strange musicians that make it."

[Illustration: Musical notation]

"Look to the grass and the flowers," said the fairy queen. "In every blade
and in every bud lie hidden notes of fairy music. Each violet and daisy
and buttercup,--every modest wild-flower (no matter how hidden) gives glad
response to the tinkle of fairy feet. Dancing daintily over this quiet
sward where flowers dot the green, my little people strike here and there
and everywhere the keys which give forth the harmonies you hear."

Long marvelled the old poet. He forgot his sorrow, for the fairy music
stole into his heart and soothed the wound there. The fairy host swept
round and round, and the fairy music went on and on.

[Illustration: Musical Notation]

"Why may I not dance?" asked a piping voice. "Please, dear queen, may I
not dance, too?"

It was the little hunchback that spake,--the little hunchback fairy who,
with wistful eyes, had been watching the merry throng whirl round and
round.

"Dear child, thou canst not dance," said the fairy queen, tenderly; "thy
little limbs are weak. Come, sit thou at my feet, and let me smooth thy
fair curls and stroke thy pale cheeks."

"Believe me, dear queen," persisted the little hunchback, "I can dance,
and quite prettily, too. Many a time while the others made merry here I
have stolen away by myself to the brookside and danced alone in the
moonlight,--alone with my shadow. The violets are thickest there. 'Let thy
halting feet fall upon us, Little Sorrowful,' they whispered, 'and we
shall make music for thee.' So there I danced, and the violets sang their
songs for me. I could hear the others making merry far away, but I was
merry, too; for I, too, danced, and there was none to laugh."

"If you would like it, Little Sorrowful," said the elf prince, "I will
dance with you."

"No, brave prince," answered the little hunchback, "for that would weary
you. My crutch is stout, and it has danced with me before. You will say
that we dance very prettily,--my crutch and I,--and you will not laugh, I
know."

Then the queen smiled sadly; she loved the little hunchback and she pitied
her.

"It shall be as you wish," said the queen. The little hunchback was
overjoyed.

"I have to catch the time, you see," said she, and she tapped her crutch
and swung one little shrunken foot till her body fell into the rhythm of
the waltz.

Far daintier than the others did the little hunchback dance; now one tiny
foot and now the other tinkled on the flowers, and the point of the little
crutch fell here and there like a tear. And as she danced, there crept
into the fairy music a tenderer cadence, for (I know not why) the little
hunchback danced ever on the violets, and their responses were full of the
music of tears. There was a strange pathos in the little creature's grace;
she did not weary of the dance: her cheeks flushed, and her eyes grew
fuller, and there was a wondrous light in them. And as the little
hunchback danced, the others forgot her limp and felt only the heart-cry
in the little hunchback's merriment and in the music of the voiceful
violets.

[Illustration: Musical notation]

Now all this saw the old poet, and all this wondrously beautiful music he
heard. And as he heard and saw these things, he thought of the pale face,
the weary eyes, and the tired little body that slept forever now. He
thought of the voice that had tried to be cheerful for his sake, of the
thin, patient little hands that had loved to do his bidding, of the
halting little feet that had hastened to his calling.

"Is it thy spirit, O my love?" he wailed, "Is it thy spirit, O dear, dead
love?"

A mist came before his eyes, and his heart gave a great cry.

But the fairy dance went on and on. The others swept to and fro and round
and round, but the little hunchback danced always on the violets, and
through the other music there could be plainly heard, as it crept in and
out, the mournful cadence of those tenderer flowers.

And, with the music and the dancing, the night faded into morning. And all
at once the music ceased and the little folk could be seen no more. The
birds came from their nests, the brook began to bestir himself, and the
breath of the new-born day called upon all in that quiet valley to awaken.

So many years have passed since the old poet, sitting under the three
lindens half a league the other side of Pesth, saw the fairies dance and
heard the fairy music,--so many years have passed since then, that had the
old poet not left us an echo of that fairy waltz there would be none now
to believe the story I tell.

[Illustration: Musical notation]

Who knows but that this very night the elves and the fairies will dance in
the quiet valley; that Little Sorrowful will tinkle her maimed feet upon
the singing violets, and that the little folk will illustrate in their
revels, through which a tone of sadness steals, the comedy and pathos of
our lives? Perhaps no one shall see, perhaps no one else ever did see,
these fairy people dance their pretty dances; but we who have heard old
Robert Volkmann's waltz know full well that he at least saw that strange
sight and heard that wondrous music.

And you will know so, too, when you have read this true story and heard
old Volkmann's claim to immortality.

1887.

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