Cults of masks

An African mask is not about covering one’s face. It has its own face, its own habits and its own life, and if one wears it, one is just an obedient servant, and the person moves where the spirit of the mask tells him, and he does what it commands. A person can’t be seen from under an African mask; a fabric or raffia palm costume covers his whole body. The most fearful masks are called upon, when help can’t be found anyplace else – like when drought threatens the people with a thirsty death, or a woman struggles through childbirth, or a son is lost in an alien land… When such masks show up in a village, women, children and other uninitiated had better not go out. If you see what you’re not supposed to see – beware: you’re lucky to pay a fine, because you might lose your life.

There are also cheerful masks. They dance around on stilts, chase women, if they forget to put out a fire on midday in dry season, or make running competitions between villages… Children have their masks sometimes, too.

Of course, where Islam or Christianity gain strength, the masks don’t feel comfortable. Also, as they say, masks don’t like the smell of gasoline. From such places, their only sad exit is an antiques store or a museum.

Masquerade of migrants from the village of Kirango: the Kono (‘Bird’) mask and Yaroba ("A beauty").  Mali. The Bamana. E. den Otter. 2004