A Comparison of Some Masks from North America, Africa, and Melanesia Author(s): M. C.

Jedrej Reviewed work(s): Source: Journal of Anthropological Research, Vol. 36, No. 2 (Summer, 1980), pp. 220-230 Published by: University of New Mexico Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/3629477 . Accessed: 18/01/2012 16:41
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A COMPARISONOF SOMEMASKS FROM NORTH AMERICA, AFRICA, AND MELANESIA M.C. Jedrej
Department of Sociology, University of Aberdeen, Old Aberdeen, AB9 2TY

Frazer'stheory of masks, that they areattemptsat a realisticand thereforeeffective representation of the gods, is probably the most widely, if somewhat reluctantly, held view. Attempts at an alternative specification of the essential nature of the mask are rare, and even less convincing than Frazer's. This article presents a comparativeanalysis of masksfrom Zuni, Banyang,Mende, Ndembu, and Umeda, which suggests that the only thing they all have in common are some presumptions on the part of anthropologists. The word 'mask' identifies no coherent class of
institutions of any use to social anthropologists-consequently, nature of 'masks' must be futile. attempts to define the essential

FOR THE ANTHROPOLOGIST, MASKS, though they are a commonplace window dressing of the discipline, remain the subject of some rather antique theories. The student soon discovers that behind the masks anthropologists are concentrating on other things-fission and faction, production and reproduction, prescription and Even Turner's (1967) celebrated studies of Ndembu ritual symbolism preference. skip over the question of why masked figures (rather than, say, effigies) appear at male initiation rites. One is left with the impression that this is either an accident of history (diffusion), or that masked figures are more convincing than effigies (better homeopathic magic). Frazer's interest in magical thinking, and in particular his law of homeopathic magic, that like produces like, inevitably led him to see masked figures as an attempt to make the gods' presence convincing, and therefore effective (1913:374-75). The trouble with this view, perhaps the most commonly held, is that it loses the phenomenon: masks are reduced to effigies, albeit animated ones. A recent article by Tonkin (1979) is based on the fact that 'the Mask' constitutes a duality of mask and masked, and therefore cannot be reduced to an entity such as an effigy, but the subsequent discussion of the essential nature and significance of this form, as it is widely institutionalized in human society, is carried out at some distance from the concrete details of ethnography. Although she is aware of this, the author denies any obligation to pay much attention to the data while hypothesizing and claims, as regards the actualities of masking customs, that "the causes would be too diverse for any rules to be set up" (Tonkin 1979:240,245). She may very well be correct on both points, but if she is, then what exactly is the anthropological contribution to this classic theme? The initial difficulty is one of definition. The face mask is, no doubt, the primary reference of the English word 'mask,' and perhaps this is so obvious that Tonkin does not think it necessary to justify her choice of the face mask as the "paradigm case" (1979:240). One could argue that, since the face is the focus of interpersonal communication, concealing or transforming the face may be an important modulation for such purposes as communicating with the gods (Livi-Strauss 1959a:46). The danger here is that an initial concern with the mask is liable to become subordinated to the study of the social significance of physiognomy. All sorts of problems are 220

COMPARISON MASKS OF

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then raised by, for example, such facts as animals wearing face masks or, among humans, the social and ritual significance of, say, gloves (hand masks). Instead of looking for paradigms it might be more fruitful to proceed by treating the ethnography systematically, especially since the mask is a relationship rather than an entity. This means that a particular instance is not considered paradigmatically, as an exemplar from a class of similar items, but syntagmatically, as an instance from a system of variants. This system may be identified by three possibilities. Firstly, that in which the mask is of minimal significance other than as a cover, veil, or screen-maximum significance attaches to what is concealed. Obvious examples are the veils worn by brides and widows in England, and the veil or screen in the Biblical Tabernacle which conceals the Ark and Mercy Seat. Secondly, there is the situation where these evaluations are reversed-here the person masked is of minimal significance and attention is focused on a materially and symbolically elaborate mask. Frequently and in contrast to the first case, the masks are not referred to as 'masks' in the vernacular, but by a term that usually translates as 'spirit.' All these evaluations are, of course, relative; the veil worn by a bride cannot be any old piece of cloth. Thirdly, there is the interesting possibility of both mask and what is masked being accorded equal significance. Clearly any theory that is not based on an appreciation of the system as a whole must be partial. The rest of this article will concentrate on the comparative analysis of some North American, African, and Melanesian ethnography. The mask as a screen or curtain may be exemplified by certain features of the Ngbe association found among the Cross River peoples of Nigeria and Cameroon. The association as it occurs among the Banyang has been described by Ruel (1969). The first point that has to be made is that Ngbe does not refer to what we would recognize as a mask; Ngbe, we are told, means 'leopard' in Ejagham, the language of the people from whom the Banyang acquired this institution. The Upper Banyang speak of Ngbe as a 'small animal' which is extraordinarily powerful and ferocious. The Lower Banyang describe it as a 'leopard.' It is contained by the association which bears its name, behind a curtained recess in the association's meeting house. The 'voice' of Ngbe, a vibrant, uneven growl, issues from behind the curtain. On specific occasions Ngbe 'escapes' to the forest where it is 'recaptured' and brought back to the village, but again this is indicated by the location of the voice of Ngbe and not by an image. The recess containing Ngbe is called ekat, but Ruel gives no term for the curtain that masks Ngbe. Except that passing beyond the curtain into ekat is part of the initiation procedure of the association, there is no evidence that the curtain is otherwise significant. Talbot (1926) does not mention the curtain at all. Fig. 1 reproduces a diagram showing the arrangements at a formal meeting of the association (Ruel 1969:224). The wavy line between the concealed ekat and the space occupied by the membership is presumably the curtain. Typically the separation of the association from the rest of society is a structural product of the analogous separation within Ngbe of the ekat and the membership. The general structure represented by Ngbe is, of course, quite common. In New Guinea the music associated with the wagan ('spirits') of the Iatmul is secretly played on flutes and slit gongs behind screens. But it seems that the screens may be dispensed with entirely if the instruments can be played out of the sight of women

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'elders'

ekat

'drummers 'l
'leaders'

iLII
'elders'
Fig. 1. Ngbe MeetingHouse (after Ruel 1969:224) and children, in the upper story of the ceremonial house (Bateson 1937:128, 135). Of the same order is the custom whereby Arab women wear a mask and body veil in public. These garments are a kind of portable screen, allowing the woman to move about while remaining in seclusion, separated and out of sight. Ngbe is hardly a mask in the common sense of the term, and the veil, though obviously a mask, is more a matter concerning the relationship of men and women than men and gods. An example from a Pueblo culture of North America does involve both masks and gods, however. The Zuni kachinas are a multiplicity of masked figures, who appear and dance in the complex Zuni calendrical rites and ceremonies. These elaborate rituals are closely related to an origin myth which, among other things, establishes such distinctions as that between culture and nature, the living and the dead, gods and men, and incestuous and nonincestuous relationships. The reports by Bunzel (1932), the principal source, show the influence of Tylor and Frazer, and this has persisted into subsequent commentaries. For example much is made of the fact that masks are referred to as 'living person' (hoi), that they are regularly fed, and that "quand il coiffe le masque le porteur assume la divinite' qu'il repre'sente" (Lvi-Strauss 1959b: 25). Benedict, only slightly less ambiguously, writes that "a man, when he puts on the mask of the god, becomes for the time being the supernatural himself" (1935:68). But according to Bunzel (1932:483), "to Zuni the whole world appears animate. . .all objects are called hoi (living person)." Human persons are distinguised from other persons by the fact that the former are said to be 'cooked' and the latter 'raw.' Masks are not the only objects ('persons') that are fed: it seems that a whole

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range of sacra require regular nourishment (ibid:490). In these circumstances it would be extraordinary if, in Zuni, masks were neither 'persons' nor 'fed.' Does the mask transform the wearer into the god it represents? To deal with this point it is necessary first of all to look at the mythical origin of the kachinas. According to the myth, as a more or less direct consequence of an incestuous act involving a brother and sister, some mothers lost their infants when they turned into frogs and lizards while crossing a river. These lost children became the divinities known as kachinas, and they dwelt at the bottom of a lake happily dancing and enjoying themselves. The kachinas, masked and costumed, would periodically come and dance and entertain the people. One day they showed the Zuni how to make the masks so that they might dance for themselves, and then they departed, but not without leaving behind some of their original masks. Now the kachinas return embodied as rain. When Zuni die they go to join the kachinas, although there seems to be some doubt as to whether women and children do so, a point which is probably related to the fact that wearing the kachina masks is a male prerogative. The striking feature of the myth is that it establishes that the masks worn by Zuni dancers do not represent the divinities, but replicate the masks worn by the divinities and, on some instances, are allegedly the actual masks worn by them. This seems to be an important detail, and one upon which all versions of the origin myth agree (Cushing 1896; Stevenson 1904; Bunzel 1932). So when a Zuni puts his head into a kachina mask he is entering a space previously occupied by a god, and one indeed to which the god might return. A number of other rites point to the same conclusion. Though Bunzel reports that she never saw anyone put on a mask, she tells us that before wearing one of the original masks a man must make a sacrifice, as well as ritually wash his head (which all mask wearers must do). During the period of the performance they must also remain 'continent,' and they may have to remain so for several days after coming out of the mask. "After important participations in masked ceremonies the head and body are bathed by paternal aunts" (Bunzel 1932:848, 506). All of this is quite typical of sacralizing rites prior to entering a sacred presence, and desacralizing rites on leaving "in order to make the participants safe for human conduct" (Bunzel 1932: 506). When boys are initiated they are first whipped (a purification) by the masked figures, who then take off their masks and place them over the heads of the boys. The masks themselves are of the helmet type, "like an inverted bucket" according to Bunzel. The Zuni term for such a mask is uline, from ule meaning 'within a deep receptacle' (1932:857). A few are face masks, which require great care to be taken over the hairdressing of the back of the head. The owners of the masks paint and decorate them each year, and not always with the same design as the previous one. If a mask is borrowed the borrower may paint it as he chooses. When a mask is buried with its owner, it is stripped of its paint and decoration; the designs are not anthropomorphic, nor are they representations of animals or even mythical monsters or divinities. The designs painted on masks are used on other objects and utensils and have no specific associations with kachinas. Bunzel (1932:862) quotes a Zuni who remarked that "sometimes the painting on the mask means something; sometimes not. The words of the song always refer to the rain and the clouds and all

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beautiful things that grow on earth, and the painting on the mask means the same as the song." In other words the outer visible aspect of the mask reflects, as it were, the visible living universe around it. That the emphasis is on the living universe would seem to be underlined by the abundance of feathers used to decorate the masks, since feathers are, for the Zuni, the embodiment of breath, the sign of life (ibid:481). But the invisible aspect of the mask, the mask underneath the paint and decoration, is "the very substance of death" (ibid:845). So from the outside, representing the visible living universe inhabited by mortals, one passes by way of death into the invisible space occupied by the dead, the ancestors and other divinities.

A spaceoccupiedby mortals

a spaceoccupiedby gods,spirits

Spaces (cf. Leach 1976:82) Fig. 2. The Mask,Representedby SharedSpace of Two Overlapping Though at first sight the Banyang association Ngbe and the Zuni kachinas appear to be rather dissimilar, they are in fact quite comparable in terms of some elemenThe shaded tary structural notions (see Fig. 2; cf. van Gennep 1960:74,78,82,168). area bounded by the heavier lines represents the mask and the space it sets apart. In Zuni the mask (the heavy line in the diagram) is subject to a considerable degree of elaboration, while the curtain in Ngbe, it seems, is not at all remarkable. Why this should be so is not obvious. It may be that the Ngbe curtain receives some attention during initiation ceremonies when novices pass beyond it. The surface of the mask itself is, of course, ambivalent in a manner analogous to that of the mask as a whole. The heavy line in the diagram shares in the features of the unshaded and the shaded area just as the shaded area as a whole participates in both spaces. Zuni have elaborated their masks at this second level, a feature which may be related to the fact that their masks do not represent the gods, but rather the masks worn by the gods. However that may be, the point to note is the structural similarity between the Banyang and Zuni examples despite their superficial differences. This is important because the next case involves a mask which at first seems rather similar to a Zuni kachina. Returning to West Africa, in the culture of the Mende of Sierra Leone there are several different types of ngafanga (spirits).' One type, the ndoli yafanga (dancing spirits) are remarkable in that they are normally visible and encountered in the village, not the forest, the usual haunt of spirits. They are, in fact, people dressed up in various masks and costumes. One such spirit (or 'devil' as they are called in pidgin English) is sande yafe, the spirit of the women's initiation society, sande hale. The mask is of the helmet type, made of wood and stained black. It is finely carved in a manner said to represent feminine beauty. The costume is of black cloth to

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which is attached a great deal of black dyed raffia or some other fibrous material. No part of the person dressed as the sande spirit is visible. Tied to the mask is a strip of white cloth. All of these features are associated with spirits. Thus there is a mermaid type of spirit which is renowned for her beauty. The 'hairiness' of the costume is also a characteristic attributed to some spirits. Strips of white cloth are evident at proceedings involving spirits such as village ancestors. Obviously one is dealing with something more than an elementary mask or screen whose function is merely concealment, but it is not at all certain that this mask is quite the same as the Zuni kachina. Although this artefact is an example of what is generally called a mask, it must be emphasized that it is not referred to as such in the vernacular. Indeed although Mende have many types of elaborate masks, there seems to be no Mende word that approximates to the English word 'mask'. Whereas in the previous examples the screen, or mask, set apart the sacred space of the spirits/gods, in this instance it is the concealing mask that is quite unambiguously identified as the spirit. Unlike the kachinas, the appearance of the sande spirit is wholly representational; it is a spirit (ngafe). Like Bunzel I never witnessed a performer putting on or taking off the sande mask and costume, but I came across no evidence to suggest that any rituals of sacralization or desacralization are necessary. The social status of the woman wearing the mask and costume does not seem to make a particularly significant contribution to the totality of the mask, other than as somebody who is concealed inside the mask. But that perhaps is the point. The mask is not only a complex symbolic object but is, more fundamentally, a simple structural relationship between a spirit that can be seen and a mortal person who, though also present, cannot be seen. Such a reversal of what is normal (usually people are visible and spirits invisible) is quite appropriate in the context of the transitional stage of the tripartite scheme of rites of passage (separation, transition, incorporation-see Fig. 3)

ao
Fig. 3. ReversalSeparatingand IdentifyingTime A and Time a0

During the female initiation rites it is signicant that the sande spirit appears in the village after the novices have been separated from normal social life and secluded in the forest, the usual abode of 'spirits.' It is quite crucial that the structural relationship constituting the masker (visible spirit [mask] : invisible [masked] person) replicates analogously the inclusive relationship of opposition between relatively
impotent spirits visible in the village, and people, the novices, concealed and undergoing changes in the forest (see Fig. 4; cf. Jedrej 1973, 1976a, 1976b).

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no change

visible people

invisible spirit

change
invisiblepeople ('initiates') visiblespirit ('masker')

masked person
Fig. 4. Sande and the Structureof the Mask.

mask

The sequencing of rites of separation and rites of transition (reversal) is well exemplified by Ndembu initiation rituals. The rites of separation, which include concealment of the novices, reach a turning point, so to speak, at a site where the novices are circumcized; this site is called ifwilu ('the place of dying') (Turner 1967:9). The masked and costumed figures (the wearer is again completely concealed) that now appear in public are called makishi which Turner insists must not be confused with akishi (spirits of the dead) (1967:72). But Ndembu themselves seem confused about this detail, and we are told that "like the women, the novices believe that the makishi are dead people". And where do the makishi, whose appearance is simultaneously the disappearance of some mortal (the wearer of the Mask), come from? They are said to emerge from the ground where the novices were circumcized, "the place of dying"! (Turner 1967:239-41). In general it seems that masks may figure in rites of separation where they set apart something extraordinary. In rites of transition masks feature as reversals. Normally people are visible and spirits, including, of course, the souls that animate people, are invisible; when reversed, visible spirits are animated by invisible people. In this case it is the mask that is invariably the subject of symbolic elaboration and referred to as a 'spirit' or 'spirit-likebeing.' However there remains the case where both mask and wearer are marked for symbolic elaboration in a manner that is not simply an amalgam, if that were possible, of the previous two types. Here the basic structural relationship seems not to be that of mask and what is masked but outside and inside. If such is the case, in what sense would it be useful to designate such an institution a 'mask,' and therefore comparable to the others that have been considered? The ageli ('cassowary')

COMPARISON MASKS OF

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mask of the Umedas in New Guinea, as described by Gell (1975), raises this question in an especially interesting way. The ageli mask consists of a conical frame of rattan cane covered with a layer of underbark (sog), over which is a fringe of white immature fronds of the pandanus palm. Four springy ends of rattan cane emerge from the top of the mask, and to them are attached fronds from the sago palm. Around the top of the mask, at the base of the fronds, are strung bright orange-colored fruit. This construction is carried (not worn) so that it covers the head and shoulders; the bearer is blackened carefully all over with charcoal. Instead of the usual penis gourd, he wears a specially weighted and elongated gourd which during the dance strikes a string of hard seeds around the dancer's abdomen. It is obvious that disguise is not a function of this mask, since the man is largely visible but for his head. Moreover the selection of the dancer is carried out some time previously, and he then enters a period of restrictions and prohibitions as regards his movements, sex life, and food, which single him out for attention. Not anybody can play this role. The cassowary dancer must be selected from among the senior married men, and since it is a demanding role which confers great credit and prestige upon the performer, the man chosen must already have these qualities to a certain extent (Gell 1975:174-82). The ethnographer's problem centered on the decided lack of resemblance of the figure just described to a cassowary, even though Umedas could have made a very realistic cassowary. But then, in a remarkable passage, Gell describes how he became aware that he was not looking at an unrealistic cassowary, but at a "perfectly explicit representation of a tree" (1975:237). The description of the dancer as a cassowary then becomes a metonymic detail associated with the wild and orgiastic tone of this stage in the proceedings. Moreover (Gell 1975:239): the relationship of eli (the male dancer) to the cone of sog (with its feminine associations) which forms the apron of the ageli mask is not an arbitraryconstructionaldetail but is informed with a covert meaning. The relationship between mask and dancer must be understood in terms of its sexual symbolism:the phallicismof the cassowarydance is not confined to the treatment of the dancer'spenis and the overtly sexual movements which pervade the dance itself, but is extended to the relation of the dancer (the axis of the mask) and the enclosing form (which is the mask itself) [see Fig. 5]. The themes of masculinity/centrality vs. femininity/laterality are, moreover, elaborately worked out, as Gell's analysis shows, in the structures of Umeda society. Of comparative importance is the way in which the social status of the person selected for the cassowary mask contributes to the nature of the totality of mask and masked in a manner which is quite distinct from the Zuni or Mende examples. The complex annual ritual (ida) in which the 'cassowaries' appear is ostensibly to promote the fertility of the sago tree, but Gell (ibid.:245) tells us that not only are the reproductive mechanisms of trees and humans conceptually identical for Umeda, but also that sago is, in fact, abundant while human fertility is precarious. The general themes of the ritual are the dissolution and regeneration of society, of life. Such calendrical rites do, of course, manifest van Gennep's tripartite scheme, but it is quite clear that the 'cassowary' as a masked figure does not embody either separation or reversal in a manner comparable to the examples so far considered. It is true that Gell's analysis of the Umeda ida ritual reveals the feature of reversal. But the cassowary mask itself does not embody this reversal; it is an element in a

228

JOURNAL OF ANTHROPOLOGICAL RESEARCH

,-Y

~
!,

,)t

,:

'ba

(o,

9) ,'

eli (6) eliehe snakein cavity surrounded bark(sog) by

Fig. 5. CassowaryDanceras Tree (mask shown in section; cf. Gell 1975:240)

much more elaborate event which does (Gell 1975:329-38). Indeed it is arguable that the 'cassowary' mask is masklike only coincidentally, since it is the product of a set of structural premises (contained: container; central: peripheral; trunk:bark; heart:limbs: penis:vulva; male:female, etc.) that are not the same as those of the masked figures in the Zuni, Mende, and Ndembu examples (Fig. 6). All of which points to an important conclusion. A superficial examination of the Banyang, Zuni, Mende, and Umeda maskingcustoms considered here would probably lead to a classification quite different from one based on structural analysis. In terms of appearances a good case could be made for distinguishing the Banyang Ngbe as a type distinct from the other three, and among the latter, grouping the Mende and Zuni examples as one subtype and the Umeda as another. No doubt other classifications, equally plausible, could be advanced. However there is only one structural typology, and its relationship to any other based on appearances is only indirect. This typology groups the BanyangNgbe, the Mende sande yafe and the Zuni kachinas together, distinct from the Umeda example. The former embody notions of transition, of boundaries between categories of space and time, while the latter does not mediate such categories but represents them. A comparison of Figures 2, 3, and 6 will illustrate the point-note that Fig. 6 (Umeda) lacks the shaded area present in

COMPARISON OF MASKS

229

A: mask:(female)

a: dancer(male)

Mask Fig. 6. Formal Structureof Umeda 'Cassowary'

the others. However the relevance of the diagrams lies not in what they say about the masks-indeed they are far too general for that-but in what they display about the differences among the masks, which, since they can be represented by such abstract figures, must be fundamental despite apparent similarities. This may explain why the mask, though a peculiarly obvious reality, has remained so unyielding to attempts to state its essential nature. It also follows that the problem posed by the very widespread occurrence of the mask is more contrived than real, the product of a point of view located in the observer's European tradition. Only by concentrating on the evidence of what actually happens, rather than on what we think is going on, can we hope for any comprehension. It therefore follows that what has been presented here concerning Zuni masks seems new only because the significance of the evidence has been, until now, obscured by presumptions about masks. In short the word 'mask' is of little use in social anthropology: to describe some institution as a 'mask' is as likely to be misleading as informative.

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JOURNAL OF ANTHROPOLOGICAL RESEARCH REFERENCES CITED

Bateson, G., 1936, Naven. Cambridge, Eng.:Cambridge University Press. Benedict, R., 1935, Patterns of Culture. London: Routledge. Bunzel, R., 1932, Introduction Zuni ceremonialism. 47th Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology. Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office. Cushing, F.H., 1896, An outline of Zuni creation myths. 13th Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology. Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office. Frazer, J., 1913, The Golden Bough. 3rd ed. (part 6). London:Macmillan. Gell, A., 1975, Metamorphosis of the Cassowaries. London:Athlone Press. Jedrej, M.C., 1974, An analytical note on the land and spirits of the Sewa Mende. Africa 44: 38-45. Jedrej, M.C., 1976a, Medicine, fetish and secret society in a west African culture. Africa 46: 247-57. Jedrej, M.C., 1976b, Structural aspects of a west African secret society. Journal of Anthropological Research 32: 234-45. Leach, E.R., 1977, Culture and Communi-

cation. Cambridge, Eng.:Cambridge University Press. Levi-Strauss, C., 1959a, Le masque. L'Express 10 December. Levi-Strauss, C., 1959b, Amerique du nord et amerique du sud. Pp. 21-27 in Le Masque Paris: Editions des Musees Nationaux, Minister'e d'Etat des Affaires Culturelles. Ruel, M., 1969, Leopards and Leaders. London: Tavistock. Stevenson, M.C., 1904, The Zuni Indians. 23rd Annual Report of the Bureau of American D.C.: Government Ethnology. Washington, Printing Office. Talbot, P.A., 1926, The Peoples of Southern Nigeria. 4 vols. London:Oxford University Press. Tonkin, E., 1979, Masks and powers. Man (n.s.) 14:237-48. Turner, V., 1967, The Forest of Symbols. Ithaca:Cornell University Press. van Gennep, A., 1960, The Rites of Passage. Translated by Monika Vizedom and Gabrielle Caffee. London:Routledge and Kegan Paul.