Paolo Israel's exciting work, constructing the oral history of a masquerade genre against a backdrop of radical social change, is a virtuoso performance that brings together the insights drawn from intensive oral history research and a critical eye for the use and misuse of anthropological theory. He introduces this book as a microhistory of the mapiko masquerade of the northern Mozambican Makonde from 1920 to 2010 and contends that the study of mapiko reveals the ‘forms of political subjectivity, affiliation and affect’ that emerged on the Makonde Plateau throughout the twentieth century (p. 10).
The downside of attempting to create a broad historical narrative of mapiko’s development is the lack of visual documentation of actual performances prior to the 1960s. The author focuses instead on extensive field interviews with past performers and spectators, from which he attempts to fashion a masquerade's life over a century, from the aftermath of slavery and the effects of Portuguese colonialism in northern Mozambique (1917–62), to the years of revolutionary change (1962–92), and finally post-socialism (1992–2009).
The other challenge raised in the study is about what counts as tradition. Asserting that mapiko masquerading is both ‘traditional’ and ‘popular’ at the same time, the author builds on the work of Gregory Bateson, which focuses on competitive ritual performance and the generation of social difference (p. 7). Further, Israel argues that the scholarly debate about tradition has been especially polarized in Mozambican historiography because FRELIMO's revolutionary nationalism reproduced many colonial stereotypes of existing practices. Thus, when the counter-revolutionary movement RENAMO gained ground, its supporters favoured the cultural institutions, especially chiefship, that had regulated their lives for so long (p. 7). On both sides, debates about politics left out expressive culture such as dance and masking performances.
Part One, ‘Directions’, sets out the theoretical and temporal framework of the book. Israel challenges the argument by Jorge and Margot Dias that mapiko is a ‘magical weapon’ through which men control women (p. 23) by suggesting that this type of analysis forms part of ‘the colonial library’ of dualisms and dichotomies (p. 19). Mapiko, the author argues, has always been about competition and rivalry, some of which is certainly male–female, but other aspects pit male against male performance so gender supremacy cannot be read as a full explanation.
Parts Two, Three and Four of the study deal with mapiko in each of its twentieth-century embodiments. Given the sheer density of the descriptions, it would not be possible to rehearse them all even briefly in a short review. Instead, I will try to demonstrate the richness of the analysis using just one of these socio-temporal interludes: Chapter 3 of the book describes the period of Portuguese colonial penetration of the Makonde Plateau. Makonde narrators used the phrase ‘meat is meat’ – a popular saying meaning approximately ‘don't be particular – just eat (accept) it!’ – to explain a change in mapiko dance practice that occurred at this time. In the past (not specifically dated but before the solid infiltration of colonial presence on the Makonde Plateau), mapiko dance groups were exclusively formed by separate lineages in various settlements and came together for competitive performances. In the colonial period, the groups gradually came to be open to anyone, with talent rather than bloodline the test of fitness for membership: the ‘meat’ of one lineage could be mixed with the ‘meat’ of another. Such a change, similar to the difference in performance levels between amateur and professional sports teams, greatly increased competition among dance groups and raised the bar on dance skills.
What, if anything, did this change have to do with colonialism? Importantly, the paz portuguesa put an end to internecine warfare, such as raids and lineage wars. People could move more freely between hamlets without the fear of being snatched and sold to a slaving caravan (p. 66). Their public sphere therefore enlarged and it became possible to consider supra-lineage forms of social life, which led to the ‘meat is meat’ mapiko performances.
Also, whereas in precolonial Makonde society youths were expected to carry out raids against rival lineages for wives and valuables, under colonial rule, pacification enabled new forms of movement and agency. As mapiko performance competitions also replaced older rivalries (p. 66), young men learned the competitive skills of drumming, dancing, singing and dressing in the mask costume during the long initiation schools they attended. Underlying the training was a strong conviction about talent (ulanda): either you were born with it or you were not (udagwa) (pp. 66–8). The resulting hubris sometimes pushed performances over the edge into actual brawls.
Another force for change in mapiko dancing was labour migration northwards into Tanganyika, which brought Makonde into closer contact with Swahili coast post-slavery ngoma styles, which were also extremely competitive. Israel argues that, in this case, changes in the mapiko dance were not the result of urban life transforming a ‘traditional society’ but ‘the voluntary choice of a hinterland group restyling itself as cosmopolitan’ (p. 77).
This book is a trove of material to be explored by students of masking or other forms of popular performance. Whether we call the dynamics of mapiko dance schismogenesis, ‘warrior theatre’ (as I did elsewhere in 2007), or just an intransigent modernism bursting at the seams, it is a cultural force to be reckoned with.
