[In the following essay, Marsh traces the significance of three major crafts—carving, weaving, and blacksmithing—in the multi-generational saga of the African family traced in Roots.]

In Alex Haley's Roots, one of the prevailing motifs is that of the plastic arts. As the reader examines the novel, he finds that the motif forms a part of the spiral structure, which, in turn, creates the work's theme of returning.¹ Thus, we find that Roots abounds with direct references to the plastic arts, and the motif seems to develop with Kunta Kinte and his line in Africa and America.

The plastic arts motif found in Roots has archetypes in Greek and Hebrew literature in which we can find reference to three major crafts mentioned in the novel: carving, weaving, and blacksmithing. In the traditions of antiquity, we observe that there is an integral association between these crafts and the essence of life itself. Moreover, in Roots we find that these crafts are fundamental to the Kinte existence and constitute an essential part of the consciousness of that clan. The result, then, is that just as they carve, weave, and forge works of art, so the Kinte consciousness carves, weaves, and forges for itself a new existence in a hostile, fallen world away from the edenic Africa in which it originated. Furthermore, it is the facility with these crafts which allows the saga of the Kinte consciousness to become an American family success story and, secondly, allows the family to acquire the means necessary to make a symbolic return to its Gambian roots in the person of Alex (Kunte Kinte) Haley.

In the Greek and Hebrew traditions, carving is associated with Man's meeting the demands of basic necessities. One example of sculpture meeting basic needs in Greek mythology is found in the story of Pygmalion, a king and sculptor in Cyprus. According to the legend, Pygmalion hated the women in his sphere and therefore made an ivory statue of a maiden, which Venus endowed with life. In the Bible, carving is a craft which is basic to the Jews in their wanderings. We are told in Exodus xxxi.2 that God directed Bazaleel, the son of Uri of the tribe of Judah, to carve furnishings for the tabernacle. We are also shown in I Kings vi.35 that carving was important to the building of the temple. We see, then, that in the context of antiquity, carving features in the provision of two life-giving forces—physical and divine companionship—and, as such, is essential to Man's physical and emotional survival.

A similarly fundamental relationship between carving and life is evident in Roots. In the novel, the first reference to this craft is in connection with Kunte's newly acquired manhood status. As a man, he desires and is expected to become a viable part of the life of his community. His attempt to fulfill his desire and expectation is symbolized by his attempt to make a drum. Kunte visualizes the making of the drum in fine detail:

He thought again of the drum he was going to make for himself—making it first in his mind, as the men did who carved out masks and figures. For the drum's head, he had a young goat's skin already scraped and curing in his hut, and he knew just the place … where he could find the tough wood he needed for a strong drumframe. Kunte could almost hear how his drum was going to sound.²

Here, we see Kunte in the light of the tradition of his community, and we see his wish to use the craft of carving to become a part of that tradition. His contribution to his community, however, is aborted; for later, in preparing to chop wood for the frame, Kunte is off his guard. His attempt to pursue craftsmanship leads to his capture into slavery and his transportation to America.

Once Kunte is in America, the craft of carving continues to be associated with life. But the life itself ceases to be an orderly and edenic situation and is characterized, instead, by chaos in which there is a sense of the urgency of survival and a desperate desire to return to the Eden of Africa. When Kunte prepares to escape from slavery, he has carved his own knife handle and has fashioned the implements he needs. He has also drawn on the skills learned during his manhood training:

Then, with a smooth rock, he honed the rusted and bent knife blade he had found and straightened, and wired it into a wooden handle that he had carved. But even more important than the food and the knife was the saphie he had made.

(p. 238)

However, in spite of Kunte's resourcefulness, he is in an environment with which he can never be in complete harmony. Therefore, he also needs divine protection, which he hopes to secure by wearing the saphie or charm, in order for his craft to contribute to his survival.

The next carving is made long after Kunte has reconciled himself to his bondage. He is now Massa Waller's driver; and on a trip to Enfield, a neighboring plantation, he meets Boteng Bediako, another slave, who is of the Akan people of Ghana. Carving features heavily in this encounter as these two men find in each other renewed spiritual life. Bediako tells Kunte the story of his own capture and the implications of his story for the survival of a slave in America:

“Dat ain't de end a de story. What I's gettin to, on top of de chief's umbrella was dis hand holdin' a egg. Dat stood for de care a chief used his powers wid. An' dat man de chief talked through, he always held a staff. An' on dat staff a turtle was carved. Turtle stood for dat de key to livin' is patience. … An' it was a bee carved on de shell a dat turtle. Bee stood for nothin' can't sting through de turtle's hard shell. … Dis is what I want's to pass on to you, dat I's learned in de white folks' land. What you needs most to live here is patience—wid a hard shell.”

(p. 303)

The implied association between carving and life continues in the preparation for Kunte's departure. Each man articulates a traditional impulse to create and give something of himself to the other:

“Now I knows you got to go,” said the Ghanaian. “In my country, whilst we was talkin', I'd a been carvin' somethin' out of a thorn to give you.”

Kunte said that in the Gambia, he would have been carving something from a large dried mango seed.

(p. 304)

Again, the reader notes the important relationship between carving and Kunte's survival. Carving, here, is integral to gift giving and the consequent friendship sealing which was necessary for the psychological survival of slaves. Moreover, Kunta is reminded of what the reader already knows—that essential to the survival of a slave was a large amount of emotional fortitude.

In addition to the notion of survival, carving also appears in the context of love and marriage in Roots. As Kunta prepares to make Bell his lifetime companion, he carves her a mortar and pestle just as his father, Omoro, had done for Binta, his mother. Later, when Chicken George marries Matilda, we are told that the door to their cabin has been carved by Uncle Pompey; and the wedding gift from Uncle Mingo is a carved stool with a woven hickory seat. We notice, however, that Chicken George, the undesirable shadow of the Kinte consciousness, buys, for his bride, a machine made by someone else: a “highly lacquered, eight-day-winding clock as tall as herself” (p. 506).

Related to love and marriage is the concept of family relationships with which carving is also associated. In the framework of carving, the Kinte consciousness perhaps comes closest to its archetypal Pygmalion reference when Kunta carves Kizzy a Mandinka doll for her birthday. Indeed, just as Pygmalion carved his ideal woman, so Kunta, as Kizzy's father and teacher, carves his concept of African femininity to transmit to her. Thus, he takes great pains to carve the doll out of pine and to polish it with linseed oil and lampblack until it is like ebony. However, because Pygmalion is not the object of slavery and oppression, he has a measure of control over his environment. Kunta does not. Therefore, he cannot feel rewarded for his endeavor. First, Missy Anne's wishes prevent him from presenting the doll to Kiss (p. 359). And later, we find that as the Kinte consciousness moves closer to finding new roots in America, this concept of femininity is rejected. This rejection takes place when Kizzy has the mumps and Missy Anne sends her the “toubob” or white doll. Kizzy is enamored of the doll, and Kunta tries to counter this response by giving Kizzy the Mandinka doll he had made. Kizzy, however, prefers the “toubob” doll (pp. 362-63).

The carving of the doll carries the doll imagery which Kunta, in turn, uses to explain to Kizzy the life of a slave and the nature of the master-slave relationship:

“Missy Anne say she want me fo' her own.”

“You ain't no doll fo' her to play wid.”

“I plays wid her, too. She done tole me she my bes' frien'.”

“You can't be nobody's frien' an' slave both.”

“How come, Pappy?”

“Cause frien's don't own one 'nother.”

(p. 378)

Again, as the Kinte consciousness carves out its survival away from its roots, the reader is made to see, as Kizzy is made to see, the great importance of a slave's maintaining an accurate perspective on his relationship with the dominant culture. When Kizzy is in danger of losing this perspective, the task of correcting her falls to Kunta; and his craft provides an avenue for him to do so.

Like carving, weaving also constitutes an archetypal pattern in the lives of Kunta Kinte and his descendants. The symbol of weaving has been used in literature to represent creation and life, particularly the latter since weaving denotes multiplication and growth. In Greek mythology, we are reminded that weaving was the activity of the three fates: Atropos, who carried the shears and cut the thread of life; Clotho, who carried the spindle and spun the thread of life; and Lachesis, who carried the globe and scroll and determined the length of life.

In Roots, weaving serves two functions. First, it provides an activity while the weaver contemplates life and sorts out his emotions. We see this function when Chicken George returns to the Lea plantation after the Denmark Vesey uprising has been aborted. He has an unpleasant confrontation with Tom Lea; and while weaving a basket that Uncle Mingo has started, he contemplates the nature of his relationship with Tom Lea and the nature of his own life. The narrator states:

George grew angry for permitting himself to believe that Massa Lea would ever act like anything but a Massa toward him. He should have known better by now how anguishing—and fruitless—it was even to think about Massa as his pappy.

(p. 477)

This realization is a bitter one for Chicken George. He has been brought to it by Uncle Mingo, who, reacting to the aborted uprising, reminds Chicken George that in spite of his kinship to Tom Lea, he would never be anything special to Lea. These lines, therefore, remind us that unlike Kunta and Kizzy, Chicken George has been content to be detached from his roots. He attempts to ignore hostility of the New World and, consequently, suffers indignity and frustration. Thus, it is the mindless, physical activity of weaving which allows him to view and internalize the reality of his existence.

Secondly, just as weaving was a woman's activity in many ancient societies, so it is also an activity of women in Roots. Early in the novel, the widow Jinna M'Bakai gives Kunta a woven basket soon after he has finished his manhood training. The presentation of this basket brings about a shift in Kunta's relationship with his mother. Both Kunta and Binta feel the shift, for the basket is the first artifact given to Kunta by a woman other than herself. It also indicates a new dimension in Kunta's relationship with women. The reference to weaving also recurs when Kunta contemplates the greatness of the Kinte heritage:

The ancient Kinte women in Mali had been famed for the pots they made and for the brilliant patterns of cloth they wove, so maybe the Kinte women there still did those things.

(p. 146)

And in this connection, there is also Irene. In the New World, she continues the tradition of the Kinte women. In her role in the novel, she brings to mind Anna of the Apocrypha, who was a weaver and the wife of Tobit. It is Anna's work as a weaver which sustains the family throughout Tobit's tribulations (Tobit ii.19). But Irene is even more reminiscent of her mythological prototype, Penelope, wife of Odysseus. Like Penelope, Irene weaves and combines craft with craftiness for survival. Indeed, it is necessary for Irene, as a slave, to weave on both a figurative and a literal level in order to ensure her survival as a human being. Thus, she figuratively weaves her way into the hearts of the Holts so that she can be sold to the Murrays. After she is Tom's wife, she combines her craft with craftiness to secure the admiration and affection of her in-laws and her new owners by making them garments that are works of art. Eventually, Irene's craftiness with her craft is so successful that she is able to withdraw completely from field work before anyone notices. Later, after the family has moved south to Henning, Tennessee, Irene's weaving has a part in their spiritual existences, for she makes a white pulpit cloth on which there is a purple cross for the New Hope Colored Methodist Episcopal Church.

Working in conjunction with the motifs of carving and weaving is blacksmithing, the final plastic art mentioned in Roots. In the novel, we are told that blacksmithing was an ancient Kinte tradition. Again, we can find prototypes in the literature of Hebrew and Greek antiquity, where smiths are Tubalcain and Hephaestus. In Genesis iv.22, Tubalcain is designated as the father of smiths and artificers; in the mythology of Greece, Hephaestus was the god of fire and patron of all artists who worked with iron and metal. His famous forges were under Mount Etna. According to myth, his reputation lay in blacksmithing, and among his creations were the arms of Achilles, the shield of Heracles, and the scepter of Agamemnon.

Just as in mythology blacksmithing functions in the context of survival and protection, so it also operates in Roots, where we are told that the Kinte men were famous for their crafts as blacksmiths. In America, Tom of the new Kinte clan revives this art. His talent as a blacksmith allows the reachievement of the original Kinte dignity. In this new setting, it is Tom, and not Chicken George, who has the spirit of the forger, becomes the functional head of the family, and eventually directs the family in their forging out a new existence in Henning.

Tom's genius as a blacksmith helps to furnish the family's survival. Chicken George bargains with Tom's talent as a craftsman by showing Tom Lea a metal pitcher Tom made for Kizzy. In addition, Miss Malizzy shows Tom Lea some “S” shaped pot hooks which Tom has made. Seeing economic gain in Tom's talent, Lea allows him to apprentice as a blacksmith. Tom's talent, then, indicates the beginnings of the return of the Kinte consciousness to its original greatness. However, it can survive only in conjunction with the profit motive of the larger white culture.

Tom, therefore, is allowed to survive only because he can create. After the family is sold to the Murrays, for example, Tom achieves a measure of respect when he makes an amazingly beautiful and lifelike iron-wrought grapevine for Missis Holt. Moreover, Tom is able, like Hephaestus, to use his talent to preserve his dignity and achieve a sense of accomplishment:

Plying his craft, he thought how blessed he was that all people seemed even to expect being ignored by blacksmiths engrossed in what they were doing. He reflected upon how most slave men who brought him their massas' repairing jobs usually seemed morose, or they big talked among other slaves about the shop. But if any white people appeared, in the instant, all of the slaves grinned, shuffled, and otherwise began acting the clown. …

Tom felt further blessed with how sincerely he enjoyed feeling immersed, to a degree, even isolated within his world of blacksmithing.

(p. 592)

Because his work is solitary, Tom is able to ignore the white people who watch him. He is thus spared the shame of masking a shattered ego and the low self-esteem which is inflicted on slaves and which many slaves had learned to nurture in order to survive.

Tom is able, too, to forge his way into the heart and life of Irene, and when they marry, he presents her with an iron rose, to which she responds: “Tom, it's jes' too beautiful! Ain't gwine never be too far from dis rose—or you neither” (p. 599). Together, Tom and Irene are able to use their skills to furnish the “weapons” for their success. Tom makes Irene a handloom on which she is able to ply her craft while he plies his.

When, eventually, the family reaches Henning, where they are able to create a new “village,” Tom, like Irene, is able to combine craft and craftiness against the forces of racism. He establishes a blacksmith shop on wheels, becomes a financial success, and paves the way for the new Kinte clan to become an American success story within the framework of the Protestant ethic.

In Roots, success with the plastic arts has, indeed, enabled the family to carve, weave, and forge its way to success in much the same manner that the archetypal personae applied those various crafts. And by the end of the novel, we realize that this same success eventually created a way for Alex Haley to develop his technique as a verbal artist. In this respect, then, the plastic arts motif works in conjunction with the written word. It is the latter—that is, the skill and craft of journalism and the craft of fiction—which transport the Kinte consciousness in the person of Alex (Kunta Kinte) Haley back to its edenic origin, the village of Juffure. In this respect, the spiral journey has a symbolic completion while the work of art that Haley has produced moves to a logical and satisfying conclusion.

Notes

1. The structure of Roots fits the pattern described by Myer Abrams in Natural Supernaturalism (New York: W. W. Norton Inc., 1973). Abrams states that such a pattern takes its philosophical origins from Hegel and Schelling, whose metaphysical systems have a definite plot, which is:

   … the painful education through ever expanding knowledge of the conscious subject until it strives … to win its way back to a higher mode of unity with itself. … So represented, the protagonist is the collective mind or consciousness of men, and the story is that of its painful pilgrimage through difficulties, sufferings and recurrent disasters in quest of a goal, which, unwittingly, is the place it left behind when it first sets out and which, when reachieved, turns out to be even better than it had been at the beginning.

   (p. 191)

2. Alex Haley, Roots (Garden City, New York: Doubleday and Company, Inc., 1976), p. 128. Subsequent quotations are from this edition and are cited parenthetically within the paper.