#12: Oral Traditions
The power of ancient voices …
Long before symbols were etched in clay, thousands of years before ink touched the surface of paper or papyrus, our ancient ancestors told stories. They spoke of topics unknown to us, and others we can guess about — tales of ancestors, of gods and monsters, of hunts both recent and from times long gone, of the mysteries of the seasons and the pinpricks of light in the dark skies above.
These stories were not written or recorded. And yet, they survived, shaped by experience and memory, ensuring that an ever-expanding wealth of knowledge and wisdom passed from one generation to the next. Long before our languages were fully formed, Homo sapiens likely communicated through sound and mimicry. And perhaps 100,000 years ago (scholars differ on the timeline) our cognitive abilities became more advanced. Archaeologists in South Africa discovered an abalone shell dating to that time period, which contained a crude paint made of crushed bones, charcoal, and stone. The ability to concoct such a recipe and store it for later use is evidence of the cognitive revolution humankind was undergoing. Many scientists believe this revolution was crucial to advancing our skills at telling stories — and passing these oral histories along the generations.
Picture a cluster of early humans around a roaring fire. Shadows dance among the surrounding rocks and trees. A wizened elder speaks of a boy who laughed at the men and women getting ready for winter. The boy lazed around as the adults stored firewood, stockpiled tools, reinforced shelters, and preserved food. He poked fun at their hard work, which wasn’t nearly as enjoyable as games and leisure.
Around the fire’s perimeter, children and adolescents listen intently, enraptured as they remember moments spent playing and being idle.
The elder describes the boy’s regret when the first frosts arrived and he realized he was woefully unprepared for the icy months ahead. It is an entertaining tale, but there is a moral to the story — a powerful lesson these young ones won’t soon forget.
This was how knowledge survived and endured. In oral cultures, stories taught people how to find food, to avoid danger, to plan for the future, and to understand their role in society. As cultures changed and adapted, so too did stories evolve with the times. Many tales we know today may well have begun as oral histories dating back thousands of years. The imagined example I shared above is inspired by Aesop’s fable of the Ant and the Grasshopper. The slave and storyteller Aesop lived in Greece more than 2,500 years ago, and his wise parables were part of oral tradition; they were not collected and put in writing until centuries after his death. The biblical story of the global flood has its roots in multiple cultures, including the Sumerians of Ancient Mesopotamia. There are also parallels between the serpent who tempted Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden and the Sumerian god Enki, a bestower of knowledge depicted in some traditions as a snakelike being.
Countless cultures have developed their own unique oral heritages. In West Africa, griots are known for reciting epic histories, proverbs, and genealogical records dating back centuries, often shared through music.
In Indigenous Australian communities, meanwhile, many oral traditions center on the sacred concept of Dreamtime, the period during which all life was created. Stories of the natural world’s creation by spiritual beings during Dreamtime play an important part in Aboriginal folklore.
Long before the Iliad and the Odyssey were put to paper, these epic poems were recited or sung by aoidoi, the bards of Ancient Greece. Indeed, aoidoi feature prominently in the narratives of these stories themselves.
In Jewish tradition, the annual Passover holiday includes the Seder, a ritual recounting of the Israelites’ liberation from slavery and exodus from Ancient Egypt.
Native Americans also have rich oral storytelling traditions, centering on subjects that include sacred creation myths and tribal histories. And then there were the minstrels and troubadours of the Middle Ages … the Old Norse poets … the seanchaí of Ireland … the list goes on.
Among the many marvels of oral storytelling is how it has shaped humankind’s ability to categorize information for easier recall. We all know from learning our ABCs, for example, that rhyme, meter, and repetition are key components of successful memorization. Learning to recite lessons and tell stories is fundamental to our growth and development, both as children and in adulthood. The linguist Walter J. Ong, a Jesuit priest and professor who closely studied transitions between oral and written cultures, reflected on the views expressed in Plato’s Phaedrus when he wrote, “Those who use writing will become forgetful, relying on an external resource for what they lack in internal resources. Writing weakens the mind.”
Even as technology has put words and images at our fingertips in ways our ancestors could never have envisioned, oral storytelling has persisted. Story podcasts and even standup comedy routines are modern echoes of this very old and important art form. And when we regale our fellows with anecdotes around the office water cooler or family dinner table, we keep this ancient tradition alive. Oral storytelling reminds us that human communication begins with the voice. And the enduring and transformative power our voices wield is nearly beyond our imagining.