The third part follows. As full of expectant curiosity as myself, the five young girls certified as having arrived at maturity are now gazing at the arena. They have freed themselves from their wrappings, and seem to feel quite at home, with their mothers and aunts all standing round them. Then, with a quick, tripping step, another bundle of cloth comes out of the bush, followed by a second, and, after a short interval by a third and fourth. The four masks—for such, when they turn round, they are seen to be—stand up two and two, each pair facing the other, and begin the same series of movements which I had already watched at Chingulungulu, comprising the most varied manœuvres with arms and legs, contortions of the body above the waist, quivering vibrations of the region below the waist. In short, everything is African, quite authentic and primitive. I had seen all these evolutions before, but was all the more struck with the whole get-up of these strange figures. Makonde masks are now to be found in the most important ethnographic museums, but no one, it appears, has ever seen them in use—or, if so, they have not been described. The masks are of wood, two of them representing men, and two women. This is evident a hundred paces off, from the prominence given to the pelele, whose white stands out with great effect from the rigid black surface. The costume of the male and female figures is in other respects alike, following the principle of letting no part of the human form be seen—everything is swathed in cloth, from the closely-wrapped neck to the tips of the fingers and toes. This excessive amount of covering indicates the aim of the whole—the masks are intended to terrify. It is young men who are thus disguised; they do not wish to be recognized, and are supposed to give the girls a good fright before their entrance on adult life. The masks themselves in the first instance serve this purpose in a general way, but their effect is still further heightened by making them represent well-known bugbears: portraits of famous and much dreaded warriors or robbers, heads of monstrous beasts, or, lastly, shetani—the devil.[[44]] This personage appears with long horns and a large beard, and is really terrible to behold.
MAKONDE MASKS
While the four masks are still moving about the arena—sometimes all together facing each other, sometimes separating and dancing round in a circle with all sorts of gambols—a new figure appears on the stage. A tapping sound is heard as it jerks its way forward—uncanny, gigantic; a huge length of cloth flutters in the morning breeze; long, spectral arms, draped with cloth so as to look like wings, beat the air like the sails of a windmill; a rigid face grins at us like a death’s head; and the whole is supported on poles, a yard or more in length, like fleshless legs. The little girls are now really frightened, and even my bodyguard seem to feel somewhat creepy. The European investigator cannot allow himself to give way to such sensations: he has to gaze, to observe, and to snapshot.
The use of stilts is not very common in any part of the world. Except in Europe they are, so far as I know, only used in the culture-area of Eastern Asia, and (curiously enough) in the Marquesas Islands (Eastern Pacific), and in some parts of the West Coast of Africa. Under these circumstances, I cannot at present suggest any explanation of their presence on the isolated Makonde plateau. Have they been introduced? and, if so, from whence? Or are they a survival of very ancient usages once prevalent from Cape Lopez, in the west to this spot in the east, preserved at the two extremities of the area, while the intervening tribes advanced beyond the old dancing-appliances? My mind involuntarily occupies itself with such questions, though, properly speaking, this is not the time for them, as there are still many things to see.
MAKONDE STILT-DANCER. FROM A DRAWING BY OMARI, A MBONDEI
That the stilt-dancer’s intention is to terrify, is evident from his movements, quite apart from his disguise. In a few gigantic strides he has reached the other side of the fairly spacious arena, and drives the natives squatting there back in headlong flight; for it looks as if the monster were about to catch them, or tread them under foot. But it has already turned away, and is stalking up to the five novices at the other end: they, and others near them, turn away shrieking. Now he comes within range of my camera—a click of the shutter, and I have him safe. I could almost have imagined that I saw the man’s face of consternation behind his mask—he stopped with such a start, hesitated a moment, and then strode swiftly away.
This dancing on stilts can scarcely be a pleasure. The man is now leaning, tired out, against the roof of one of the huts, and looks on while the four masks come forward again to take part in the dance. But the proceedings seem inclined to hang fire—the sun has by this time climbed to the zenith, and the stifling heat weighs us all down. A great many of the women taking part in the ceremony have already dispersed, and those still present are visibly longing for the piles of ugali at home. I take down the apparatus and give the word to start, and once more we are forcing our way through the thorny thickets of the Makonde bush towards Newala.
