Dance of the Masks

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So I went into Ouaga last weekend and I had written out a whole blog update, then I forgot it in the village. So sorry for the delay and the back-dated entry.

CDP got the most votes in the elections and now have a majority in the national assembly. Not sure what that means for the country exactly.

Still hot here. People keep telling me that the rainy season starts in mid-May and then it gets cooler. It’s mid-May. I’m still waiting for rain.

I biked in to Bobo this morning with my neighbor, and a little section of the road has been paved. That little piece was wonderfully smooth and not dusty to ride on.




A couple weekends ago in the village was the dance of the masques. It is almost planting season, and the Bobo people hold a celebration to indicate that the day after the next rainstorm will be the day to start planting.

The masque tradition comes from their ancient animist religion. When a person of unknown identity dresses in a mask and costume, he becomes possessed by the spirit of an ancestor and is no longer himself. The costumed figure is just referred to as “the mask,” which runs around the village carrying out the wishes of the ancestor.

In talking to past volunteers, the masks were serious and frightening business. One was to avoid seeing them, staying inside with locked doors and windows if necessary. The masks could attack people, commit crimes, and face no consequences afterward - it wasn’t the person who did it, it was the mask.

In my area the tradition seems to have lightened up a little. The first masks came out one late afternoon to the amusement of the villagers. Their bodies were covered entirely by shaggy baobab fibers, dyed in bright colors. Their faces were concealed by carved masks or more baobab fibers, but people seemed to know who they were anyway. They ran around the village and chased people with sticks. Their victims fled playfully, laughing. I was reassured that the masks would only hit their friends - if they don’t know you, they won’t hit you. I was encouraged to take pictures and the masks were happy to pose for them when asked.

That night was the dance of the masks. After dark, a crowd gathered in a clearing at the back of the village, awaiting the appearance of the nighttime masks. My neighbor, Tidiane, led me there and secured us some good spots.
Totally against tradition, I was allowed to see the dancers getting into costume. These costumes were made from local cotton, hand-cleaned, hand-spun, and hand-woven into five-inch bands. The bands of cloth were sewn together to make tight-fitting costumes that cover all but the dancer’s hands and feet. More strips of material were used to attach large, elaborate head pieces and to cover the dancer’s face. Getting into costume took hours.

There were two types of nighttime costumes. The first was dyed with indigo into zigzag patterns and seemed to represent a donkey. Long ropes were attached to resemble a tail and a mane that covered the dancer’s face. The second was all white and seemed to glow in the moonlight. It had a large, heavy-looking head piece of white, two-foot spikes. There were a dozen or so dancers of each type.

After the hours of costuming were finished, the crowd in the clearing grew as the drummers started to play. There was a small band of djembés with a costumed leader. The leader carried a small drum that fit under his arm. The hide of the drum was connected by strings to the bottom of the drum. By pressing his arm down on the strings, the drummer could tighten the hide and change the pitch of the drum.

Around midnight, the dance began. Each costume had its own type of dance and its own drumbeat. The donkey-like masks entered to a galloping, triplet beat and were followed by women pretending to whip them with fabric. Their dance was slow at first, and when the drums picked up they burst into a frenetic, pure-energy dance in which they spun their long manes in figure eights in the air, stopping only when unmasked friends pulled them out of the dance.

The white masks entered tethered to ropes and led by an unmasked person. They each carried a wooden staff about 10 feet long. When the drums played their rhythm, they used their staffs to launch themselves into the air like a pole vaulter, only stopping halfway and balancing on the top of the stick. Holding on with just their arms, they were able bounce up and down on the wooden pole to the rhythm.

All of this was done by moonlight. Each dancer had his chance to enter and show off his skills, building up to the most talented of the masks. I left at 3 am, but the show continued until dawn.

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