CANDOMBLÉ ORISHAS: AN AFRO-BRAZILIAN READING OF AMOS

TUTUOLA’S THE PALM-WINE DRINKARD

The idea to elaborate this essay originates in my persistent interest in African culture
and its long-lived presence in countries in which slavery was an important economic
driver until its abolishment. By approaching Amos Tutuola’s The Palm-Wine Drinkard
from an Afro-Brazilian standpoint, I hope to draw important cultural bridges between the
Yoruba set of beliefs and the Afro-Brazilian Candomblé, as a means to shed light on the
hidden Orisha allegories present in the book object of this study and, as a consequence,
understand the presence and evolution of Nigerian culture and religious belief in modern
Brazil.

INTRODUCTION

Amos Tutuola’s The Palm-Wine Drinkard is a recognized literary fantasy work that
has undoubtedly divided opinions of European and African critics alike. The attention it
has received over the years is mostly focused on its form rather than its motif and
themes. Nigerian critics go so far as to say that Tutuola’s The Palm-Wine Drinkard is
merely plagiarism of the traditional Yoruba folktales and that its narrative reinforces the
already existent patronizing way that Westerners see an allegedly superstitious Nigeria.
According to Wole Soyinka, in her introduction to the 2014 edition of The Palm-Wine
Drinkard, Tutuola’s fellow country people were left wondering if the author’s first-ever
published novel was indeed literature, or “simply an extended folk tale in search of
syntax”.
Syntax, indeed. The main discussions when it comes to Tutuola’s first book
permeates the author’s language, which has been openly targeted by both African and
Western critics. Proletariat rather than that of the university graduate, Tutuola’s use of
English has embarrassed the African critics, with its illiteracies and nonliterary choices.
The critics who ventured to analyze Tutuola’s style and narrative tied his work to oral
expression, a more ‘popular language’ if you will. However, compared to works such as
Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales and Homer’s Odyssey, the narrative in The Palm-Wine
Drinkard has also pleased a few who claim it carries an “immediacy, a forthrightness, a
freshness, and a keen sense of delight particularly to be seen in the common

1
determination to undertell the touching, the outrageous, the amusing” (Lindfors, 1976,
page 113).
Inside the mind of the first-person narrator, Tutuola takes us through the main
character’s quest to find his dead palm-tree tapster who falls from a tree while tapping
palm-wine for his master. On a somewhat naïve quest, which could be categorized under
Northrop Frye’s mythos of summer1, the self-proclaimed “father of gods” (Tutuola, 1952,
page 6) decides to set off to “find out where my palm-wine tapster who had died was”
(Tutuola, 1952, page 5) after realizing that his generous appetite for palm-wine will not
be satisfied anymore and he will be deserted by his guests who rely on its large supply.

When I saw that there was no palm-wine for me again, and nobody could tap it
for me, then I thought within myself that old people were saying that the whole
people who had died in this world did not go to the heaven directly, but they
were living in one place somewhere in this world. (Tutuola, 1952, page 5)

The now-dead tapster, therefore, is not in what the western world would consider ‘the
underworld’, or perhaps, ‘heaven’. The Town of Death is in the same world as the towns
of the living. Although the narrator’s introduction to the story takes place in the real world,
the reader is then invited to cross the perceptible boundary of “Mythization” (Lindfors,
1976, page 111). To capture Death, the story embarks on the Yoruba’s imaginary world
and its marvelous and fantastic close relationship with the dead, who do not care for and
behave differently from the living.

[…] of the utmost significance that the first of all the trials imposed upon the
Palm-Wine Drinkard in his journey is the binding and bringing of Death [...] It
stands as a clear enough indication that the Drinkard's adventure is not merely
a journey into the eternal African Bush, but equally a journey into the racial
imagination, into the sub-conscious, into that Spirit World that everywhere co-
exists and even overlaps with the world of waking 'reality'. (Moore, 1962, page
44-46).

Amos Tutuola has openly stated his desire to publish, and consequently eternalize,
the already dying tales of his country.

I wrote the Palm-Wine Drinkard for the people of the other countries to read the
Yoruba folk-lores [. . .]. My purpose of writing is to make other people to
understand more about Yoruba people and in fact they have already
understood us more than ever before (Tutuola, 1968).

1
On his book ‘Anatomy of Criticism – Four Essays’, Northrop Frye suggests a framework of analysis
based on the idea of mythoi, that seeks to explain, using the four seasons, the four possible literary
patterns that govern the western literary work. The mythos of summer refers to the narrative which
takes place in the ideal world, the world of innocence, fulfilment, and plenty.

2
 One can argue that the author succeeded in portraying Yoruba’s oral tradition of
folktale telling. For one, ancestor worship is a key element in the Yoruba tradition, which
firmly believes that the spirit of man never dies. Instead, it influences the life of the
community, as portrayed by Tutuola in The Palm-Wine Drinkard. Furthermore, for the
Yoruba people, the universe has a three-storied structure: the heaven world which is
located above and is the home of the father God (Abarisa); the Earth world, which is
where the humankind inhabits and is what we call the world of the living; and the world
under the Earth, which is known for being the adobe of the ancestors. Tutuola’s Town of
the Death is loosely based on the Yoruba conception of the “underearthworld”, which is
said to be connected to the world of the living (earthworld) by a “two-track traffic network
of some cosmic passageway transversed now and again by citizens of the three worlds”
(Olomola, 1988, page 107). Similarly, Tutuola’s unnamed drunkard describes his journey
to and from The Town of the Death through the forest and roads where he meets both
human and spiritual beings:

We met about 400 dead babies on that road who were signing the song of
mourning and marching to Deads’ Town at about two o’clock in the midnight
and marching towards the town like soldiers, but these dead babies did not care
to branch into the bush as the adult-deads were doing if they met us, all of them
held sticks in their hands. (Tutuola, 1952, page 104)

The cult of Orishas is also an important aspect of the Yoruba tradition. The Orishas
are ancestors who are said to be the founder of certain families. To explain how Orishas
came to be, a Yoruba myth tells the story of Olórun (God), God of the Infinite, who
created the universe with his own ‘ófu-rufú’, ‘mimó’, or ‘divine breath’ and along with it,
immaterial beings who populated the universe. These immaterial beings are what we
know as Orishas, being emanated from Olórun. The Orishas were given great powers
over the natural elements and have male and female representations. For the Yoruba,
every human being, based on their energy and physical constitution, as well governed
by the laws of affinity, has one or more Orishas who protect their lives and are worshiped
as such.

Similarly, Brazil, the country which is most culturally influenced by Africa in the
Americas, carries traces of Yoruba traditions in its Candomblé, an afro-decedent religion
brought to the south American giant by African slaves during the Atlantic slave trade.
Understandably, Brazil imported an estimated five million slaves from countries like
Amos Tutuola’s Nigeria, comprising 40% of all slaves brought to the Americas 2 ,

2
Source: https://www.campusb.org/afro-brazilian-culture

3
becoming the biggest afro-descent population outside Nigeria. Consequently, the
Brazilian culture, from dance and music to food and religion, highly mirrors Africa.
In Candomblé, cult groups often divide themselves in something they call ‘nations’ to
legitimate their ritual differences and validate their collective identities. Around 56,4% of
all Candomblé houses in Brazil claim to belong to Nagô, which derives from the Nigerian
Yoruba tradition and maintain similar ritual particularities, such as the worship of the
Orishas, as well as drum rhythms, language, food, and offerings (Mott and Cerqueira,
1998, page 13).
There are noticeable similarities between the Yoruba’s folktale elements in The
Palm-Wine Drinkard and the Candomblé set of beliefs and traditions. For instance, when
the narrator and his wife carry their half-bodied baby on their heads till the creatures
named “Drum, Song, and Dance”. It was only in front of these deities that the evil spirit
of the baby agreed to come down from the narrator’s head and be sent away to where it
belonged, while everyone else could not stop dancing to the rhythm of the music
(Tutuola, 1952, page 36-37). This whole passage of the book matches the description of
the ceremonies that take place in the Candomblé’s ‘terreiros’ (worship houses), where
to the sound of drums, people get possessed by the Orishas to help spirits which are lost
or stuck in the world of the living.

THE ORISHA REPRESENTATION IN THE PALM-WINE DRINKARD

As proposed, this paper argues that Amos Tutuola’s book The Palm-Wine Drinkard
can be read through an Afro-Brazilian standpoint by identifying representations of the
Candomblé Orishas in Tutuola’s narrative. When the narrator starts his quest, the reader
is invited to embark on an adventure full of important meetings with supernatural beings
who seem to guard important ‘portals’, or stages in the saga. The Drunkard and his wife
are only able to advance on their quest by interacting with these various entities and their
symbols, strongly implying a connection between them and the Orishas, who are known
to “command and make things happen […] with a natural force […] and an object that
witnesses and supports that convergence and alignment” (Britannica3, 2020).
The main character himself has significant traits which can serve as the basis to the
argument that he is also a representation of an Orisha. One may choose to look at a
god-like view of The Palm-Wine Drinkard hero with caution and skepticism due to its
mock-heroic quest narration, the character’s forgetfulness towards his immortality, and,
why not, rather mundane motif. However, his generic behavior resembles somewhat the

3
Source: https://www.britannica.com/topic/orisha

4
heroes in Greek myths, who engage in “highly generalized experiences which have
within them the conditions essential to becoming a Myth” (Lindfors, 1976, page 112). The
Orishas tradition, in non-religious terms, also carries strong mythological traits with its
traditional stories that explain the natural and social phenomenon and contain
supernatural beings and events4.
There are numerous shreds of evidence in the text that demonstrate that the Drinkard
can be seen as a representation of the Candomblé Orisha named Òrìànlá, Obàtálá, or
yet, Oxalá, with all his majesty, willpower, drunk mockery, and the quest for the precious
liquid that was his defeat but also his main necessity. “The Great Orisha” or “The King of
the White Cloth”, Oxalá5 is considered the most important Orisha in both the Yoruba
tradition and the Brazilian Candomblé. He was the first one to be created by Olodumaré,
the supreme God, with a strong and obstinate character which causes him a lot of
trouble.
According to Pierre Verger, in his book entitled “Orixás”, when Oxalá crossed the
door of the ‘Beyond’, he met the Orisha Exu, who among his multiple obligations, had to
supervise communications between the two worlds. Exu, discontented with the refusal
of the Great Orisha, Olodumaré, to make the prescribed offerings, made Oxalá feel very
thirsty, who, in turn, to quench his thirst, had no other option than to pierce the bark of a
palm tree's trunk. A cool liquid dripped from it: palm wine. He drank it greedily and
abundantly till he was drunk and fell asleep. Seeing Oxalá asleep, the Orisha Oduduwa
stole the ‘bag of creation’ and showed it to Olodumaré, who said: “if he is in this state,
you go, Oduduwa! Go create the world!”. Oduduwa, instead of Oxalá, established himself
as the king of the land and was then followed by the other orishas. When Oxalá woke
up, he no longer found the ‘creation bag’ by his side and as punishment for his
drunkenness, was forbidden to drink palm wine (Verger, 2002, 100-101).
The unnamed narrator of Tutuola’s The Palm-Wine Drinkard introduces his close
relationship with palm-wine early on in the story, by saying that although his seven
younger siblings were hard workers, he “was an expert in palm-wine drinkard” (Tutuola,
1952, page 3), reference which connects him to Oxalá and his drinking mishap during
the creation of the world. In the sequence, the narrator goes on to tell the story of the
death of his tapster, which naturally caused him to have no more palm-wine to drink. “[…]
I had no palm-wine to drink at all, and throughout that day I felt not so happy as before”
(Tutuola, 1952, page 4), motivating him to embark on a quest to relive the dead and have

4
Definition of ‘myth’ on Cambridge Dictionary: “an ancient story or set of stories, especially explaining
the early history of a group of people or about natural events and facts.” Accessible on
https://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/myth.
5
Refer to Appendix Figure 1 for a generic Candomblé representation of the Orisha Oxalá.

5
access to the drink again. Hence, it is possible to argue that the drunkard’s quest is a
representation of Oxalá’s own desire to drink the wine even after the ban imposed on
him by the supreme God.
Also, when The Palm-Wine Drinkard narrator introduces himself: “I replied that my
name was ‘Father of Gods’ who could do everything in this world” (Tutuola, 1952, page
6), he states his divinity which is also connected to Oxalá. Although Oxalá was not able
to create the world itself due to being drunk, he is nevertheless the father of all humans,
since he was given the task of shaping the bodies of beings in clay as a consolation to
not being able to create the world (Verger, 2002, page 101).
Averse to all violence, disputes, fights, Oxalá likes order, cleanliness, and purity. The
personality archetype of the devotees of Oxalá is that of the calm and worthy people,
endowed with unbreakable willpower. Under no circumstances will they modify their
plans and projects, despite rationality that alerts them to the possible unpleasant
consequences of their actions. The same can be said about the Drunkard, narrator of
the book, whose undeniable perseverance takes him on a journey of years in search of
his dead tapster and access to an unlimited palm-wine supply. Threatening evil spirits in
the form of their child, scalps ripped in torture sessions, a year with unlimited abundance
inside a white tree, the need to kill creatures to regain the wife, being devoured and
having to cut himself out of the beast’s stomach, despite all these amazing challenges
and the many years it takes him to get to the Town of Death and find his tapster, nothing
is enough to make the hero give up on his quest.
For these reasons, Oxalá is also considered a tranquil judge, which justifies the
passage in which Tutuola’ hero is invited to decide which of the three wives the Wizard
should keep as a reward for bringing the husband back to life: “so the whole people in
the court wanted me to choose one of the wives who was essential for the Wizard”
(Tutuola, 1952, page 117). Only the father of the gods, that is, the father of all Orishas,
fair judge, would have “the whole people in the ‘mixed town’ want me very urgently to
come and judge the two cases” (Tutuola, 1952, page 118).
Once established the connection between the main character and Oxalá, it becomes
natural to find other Orisha representation in Tutuola’s story. The first ‘god’ he meets is
right on page 6: “I reached a town and went to an old man, this old man was not really
man, he was a man and he was eating with his wife when I reached there” (Tutuola,
1952, page 6). The god-like man, then, agrees to help the Drunkard only if he proves he
is also a god, by going to the blacksmith in another town and bringing the object that he
had ordered the blacksmith to make for him. The presence of a blacksmith as the main

6
driver of this initial quest gives basis to the argument that this first god is Ogum6, the
Orisha god of iron, blacksmiths, and all those who use this material.
Ogum is the oldest of the Yoruba gods and is always the first who opens the way for
the other Orishas. Without his permission and protection, none of the useful and
profitable jobs and activities are at all possible (Verger, 2002, page 46) which explains
why he is introduced right at the start of Tutuola’s quest. Another important detail that
connects this first god in Tutuola’s book to Ogum is the fact that the Drunkard arrives at
the town where the old man lives “after the seventh month that I [the drunkard] had left
my hometown” (Tutuola, 1952, page 6). The number 7 is Ogum’s number, confirmed by
a legend of Ifá7:

Oiá was Ogum's partner […]. One day, Ogum offered Oiá an iron rod, similar
to one of his property, and that had the power of dividing men into seven parts
and women in nine, who were touched by her in the course of a fight. Xangô
enjoyed to come and sit at the forge to watch Ogum hitting the iron and,
frequently, cast Oiá glances; […] His grandeur and power impressed Oiá. Then,
what was to be expected happened: one fine day she ran away with him. Ogum
launched its chase, found the fugitives, and brandished his magic stick. Oiá did
the same and they touched each other at the same time. And, so, Ogum was
divided into seven parts and Oiá in nine, him receiving the name of Ògún Mejé
and her Iansã […] (Verger, 2002, page 13)

Another important god-like figure the Drunkard meets along the way is the “Faithful-
Mother In The White Tree” who lives inside a big white tree in the middle of the forest.
While the Drunkard and his wife were running away in distress from the torturing
inhabitants of the “Unreturnable-Heaven’s Town”, they see a white tree with hands
inviting them in. Sitting on a chair inside the tree, they find an old woman named “faithful-
mother” who tells them “that she was only helping those who were in difficulties and
enduring punishments but not killing anybody” (Tutuola, 1952, page 67). After spending
a week at the hospital inside the tree recovering from the torture they endured, the couple
gets to spend one year engulfed in fine dining and dancing parties without any fear or
death.

The old lady figure named the ‘faithful-mother’ carries similar traits of the female
Yoruba-Candomblé Orisha Nanã Brukung 8 . Nanã is considered the Orisha of rain,
standing water, mangrove, swamp, wetland, and mud. Nanã is affectionately called
"Grandmother" or the "Primordial Earth Mother" because she is usually imagined as an

6
Refer to Appendix Figure 2 for a generic Candomblé representation of the Orisha Ogum.
7
According to the United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization, “the word Ifa refers
to the mystical figure Ifa or Orunmila, regarded by the Yoruba as the deity of wisdom and intellectual
development”, available on http://www.unesco.org/archives/multimedia/document-3742.
8
Refer to Appendix Figure 3 for a generic Candomblé representation of the Orisha Nanã.

7
elderly woman. Also, her main emblem is the Ibiri9 that characterizes her relationship
with ancestral spirits. In Candomblé, Nanã’s archetype is of people who act calmly, with
benevolence, dignity, and kindness, which makes a direct bridge to Tuotola’s Faithful-
Mother and the calm way she receives the couple, allows them to stay for a whole year
and then tells them to resume their quest. Also, the Orisha Nanã is known to like children
and educate them, perhaps, with excess sweetness as any grandparent would, fact that
explains the presence of children in the halls of the white tree, dancing and singing
around freely.

The ‘Faithful-mother” in the book also demonstrates well-balanced reactions, exactly

what the Orisha Nanã is known for, especially when she suggests that the Drunkard and
her wife continue their journey as they had planned. At the end of the interaction with the
pair, before they resume their journey in the bush, the “Faithful-mother who was faithful
to every creature” (Tuotola, 1952, page 72) advises them to cross a bridge while she
waves them goodbye. An hour later, they are hit by heavy rain, closing the symbolic
circle that takes us back to Nanã and her title of ‘Orisha of rain, wetland, and mud’.

Right after the Drunkard and his wife leave the white tree and resume their quest,
they are met by a lady in a long fancy dress and a deep red complexion who takes them
to see the Red-king. The whole situation that follows is full of heavy magic, mockery,
enigma, and choice: “after the Red-king had related the story for us and in his conclusion
had said that one of us should volunteer his or her life for the two creatures…” (Tutuola,
1952, page 78). The wife, that barely speaks throughout the whole saga, suddenly
becomes this very wise and enigmatic messenger who drops sentences full of effect and
discernment: “this would be a brief loss of woman, but a shorter separation of a man
from lover” (Tutuola, 1952, page 78) or yet “she was a not a human being and she was
a spirit, but what was she?” (Tutuola, 1952, page 73).

The tone of the passage in the Red-bush resembles the Orisha Exu10, the deity
mentioned in Oxalá’s myth of creation as the one that got him drunk as revenge against
the Supreme God. Of an irascible character, Exu likes to stir up dissensions and
disputes, as well as to provoke public and private accidents and disasters. Having red
as his main color, he is known to be cunning, coarse, vain, indecent, to such an extent
that the first missionaries, frightened by these characteristics, compare him to the devil,
turning him into a symbol of all that is evil and wicked, as opposed to goodness, purity,
elevation and the love of God (Verger, 2002, page 46).

9
Ibiri is an instrument in the format of a woven and curved wand.
10
Refer to Appendix Figure 4 for a generic Candomblé representation of the Orisha Exu.

8
 It might not be a coincidence that the Drunkard, or Oxalá, as per the arguments
herein presented, and his wife meet the Red-king (Exu) precisely in the middle of the
book. Full of mockery and hallucination, the Red-bush passage is arguably the one in
which the main character is mostly tested. Sitting magic-free with a gun in hand while
being attacked by red highly mythical creatures makes an allusive reference to Oxalá’s
drunkenness and inactivity in the myth of creation. This correlation cleverly marks the
middle of the quest, in which the narrator is invited to face his fears and perhaps revenge
Exu’s wrongdoings. The narrator describes one of the red creatures that terrorizes him
as:

At the same time that the red fish appeared out, its head was just like a tortoise’s
head, but it was as big as an elephant’s head and it has over 30 horns and large
eyes which surrounded the head. All these horns were spread out as an
umbrella. It could not walk but only gliding on the ground like a snake and its
body was just like a bat’s body and covered with long red hair like strings. It
could only flu to a short distance, and if it shouted a person who was four miles
away would hear. All the eyes which surrounded its head were closing and
opening at the same time as if a man was pressing a switch on and off.
(Tutuola, 1952, page 80)

Exu is not only considered the trickster Orisha, prone to harassment and abuse, but
also the messenger to bring the truth, to raise awareness of inter-relatedness in a way
operating as a structurer of reality11. The Drunkard, while in the Red-town, was aware he
could not die, as he had sold his death at the white tree, but he was still able to feel fear,
as he had not sold that. Therefore, the mishaps in the red-town work as ‘lessons’ around
‘fear’ which the symbolic Exu in the passage imposes on the main character. When the
wife says “it would be a ‘fear’ of heart, but it would not be dangerous to the heart”
(Tutuola, 1952, page 81), the character announces enigmatically the Red-king’s intention
towards the main character, forming a clear bridge between the Red-king and the Orisha
Exu’s relation to the truth.

CONCLUSION

The experience of reading and writing about Tutuola’s The Palm-Wine Drinkard,
validated the long-lived notion that the Brazilian society is formed by cultural diversity,
from Indian natives to African slaves and Europeans colonizers. The possibility to sit
closely with African traditions, such as the Yoruba tales portrayed by Amos Tutuola,

11
Reference to popular belief found on http://www.swarthmore.edu/Humanities/ychirea1/Exu2.html.

9
helps understand how these intercontinental cultural aspects affect, even if silently, the
struggles, beliefs, and collective specificities of this giant festive South American nation.

Modern Brazilians momentarily ignore the discriminatory weight laid on afro-

religions and dive into the Afro-Brazilian-inspired rites and superstitions on New Year’s
Day. Beaches are taken by wishful citizens throwing roses and toy-sized wooden boats
full of food and flowers into the sea, as an offering to the Orisha ‘Yemanjá’, the queen of
the oceans. Although afro-descendent religions and traditions are highly rejected by a
good part of the white middle-class Brazilian population, the magic and folklore carried
by the figure of the Orishas remain present in everyday life.

By telling the story of a god-like character who goes from the glutton-like position
that resembles the Greek mythological ‘laying on a bench being fed grapes’ towards the
unlikely hero of a whole hungry town, Tutuola presents the reader with the myths and
allegories of, not only the Yoruba Orisha tradition but also the Candomblé deities, such
as Oxalá, Ogum, Exu, and Nanã. Through the close analysis of the symbols presented
in the story, it was possible to argue that Tutuola leaves traces of the symbology of each
Orisha, being colors, personality traits, or numbers, without exposing completely their
identity within the Yoruba tradition, intentionally or unintentionally.

To sum up, Amos Tutuola’s attempt to immortalize the Yoruba myths did a lot more
than just that. It shed light on a forgotten Africa which overflowed its borders and
inundated other continents with its allegoric and colorful beliefs. By pouring on paper the
saga of the Drunkard and his wife to find the palm-wine tapster, Tutuola proved that
regardless of the linguistic style and the simplicity of the tales that are passed on from
generation to generation, the Afro-descendant culture deserves attention and respect as
the one of the world’s most important cultural patrimony.

Word Count: 4555

10
 APPENDIX

Figure 1: Orisha OXALÁ. Source: Google Images Figure 2: Orisha OGUM. (Source: Google Images)

Figure 3: Orisha NANÃ. (Source: Google Images) Figure 4: Orisha EXU. (Source: Google Images)

11
 WORKS CITED
Books:

Lindfors, B. Critical Perspectives on Nigerian Literatures. Boulder: Three Continents

Press, 1976.

Frye, Northrop. Anatomy of Criticism: Four Essays. Princeton: Princeton University.

Press, 1971

Moore, G. Twelve African Writers. London: Hutchinson; Bloomington: Indiana

University Press,1980.

Mott L. and Cerqueira, M. As religiões Afro-Brasileiras na luta contra a Aids. Salvador:

Editora Centro Baiano Anti-Aids, 1998.

Tutuola, A. The Pam-Wine Drinkard. London: Faber & Faber, 1961.

Verger, Pierre Fatumbi. Orixás. Salvador: Corrupio, 2002.

Articles:

Omola, I. Contradictions in Yoruba Folk Beliefs Concerning Post-life Existence: the ado
example. Available on <https://www.persee.fr/doc/jafr_0399-
0346_1988_num_58_1_2255> Accessed on 9 October 2020
Parés, Luis N. The birth of the Yoruba hegemony in post-abolition candomblé.
Available on <https://journals.openedition.org/jsa/2873> Accessed on 1 October 2020.

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