Among the Africans

Issue 30

Award-winning photographers Carol Beckwith and Angela Fisher have devoted three decades of their professional lives to the exploration and documentation of traditional African culture. Both intimate and revealing, their new book, Faces of Africa, celebrates Africa’s overwhelming diversity and pays personal tribute to the many individuals Beckwith and Fisher have encountered in the course of their travels. Carol Beckwith and Angela Fisher: In touch with tradition Thirty years ago, we began a relationship with the African continent that would profoundly alter and shape our lives. Our journeys would take us over 270,000 miles, through remote corners of 36 countries and to more than 150 African cultures. We would experience an extraordinary diversity of  lifestyles and belief systems, which would make us look differently at our own lives. Each time we return to Africa, its people continue to inspire and energise us. We believe it is important to tell the stories behind news headlines, which often overlook unique cultures that have been in existence for thousands of years. From Africa we have learned the value of rites of passage, which define what is required of a person at each stage of life. We have been touched by the wisdom of elders and inspired by the belief systems that keep people in harmony with their natural environment, their spirituality and their communities. To have photographed so many traditional cultures of Africa has been a privilege and an honour. Although many customs are in transition today, we believe the bedrock of tradition in African societies is still a powerful and unifying force – and one to be celebrated. A tradition we most esteem is the African concept of reciprocity: the belief that anything given must be returned with added value. It is our hope that through our photographs we might give back a small part of what Africa has given to us, and through our documentation help preserve its rich heritage not only for future generations of Africans, but for the world at large. Wisdom of age If there is one African cultural trait we wish the western world would emulate, it is the reverence shown towards elders, along with the importance given them as teachers, role models and guides. Some of the most cherished moments from our travels are of occasions when we observed the love, care and respect Africans displayed toward older people. As experts on their culture’s history – its genealogy, folktales, and other oral traditions – elders provide an essential link between the experiences of past generations and the challenges of the present one. The wisdom that comes with age honours a culture’s past while helping forge its vision for the future. An African elder once told us this story: “Before I was born, I lived in my mother’s belly and I was very secure and happy there. I had everything I could possibly want. Then one day I was pushed through a doorway into a strange world of noise and confusion. I was angry at first, but soon learned to love being a child. But no sooner was I enjoying myself and perfectly happy to stay a child forever, then I was pushed through another doorway into a strange world where I had responsibilities, and wives and work. But I loved my family, and I would have been happy to stay that way forever, but the years passed, and I was shoved through another door and became an elder, and now I have arrived at the end of that life also. You ask me if I am afraid of what happens next and I tell you: I have learned to understand that what is before me is just another doorway, and I am ready.” To subscribe or order this issue click here Warrior spirit  We were awakened in the middle of the night by the wild, impassioned cries of Maasai warriors, frantic in their efforts to retaliate against their enemies, the Sukuma. Shortly after midnight, the Sukuma, concealed by the dark moonless night, had entered the manyatta armed with bows and poisonous arrows and stolen more than 2,000 head of cattle – one of the biggest raids of the century. Seven Maasai warriors, defending themselves with spears, were shot with arrows containing lethal poison. Within hours Maasai warriors from all parts of the Serengeti gathered together, with uncontrollable emotion, to prepare a warlike strategy to retrieve the stolen herds. We were only allowed to peek out from our hut, for fear of being caught in the crossfire. What we saw were some of the fiercest and most fearless warriors on the continent assembling by the hundreds to go to war. Many fell into emboshona, a fit-like state induced by high emotion – some foaming at the mouth, their bodies going rigid and their spears flying in all directions. A deep, tense guttural hum, punctuated with bloodcurdling warlike cries, permeated the manyatta. The warriors formed a phalanx. Time was of the essence; the Sukoma would move at speed to conceal the stolen herds. Just as the warriors were about to leave the manyatta, a messenger arrived on foot from the government office in Arusha. The Maasai were not to retaliate; the government would take over, find the stolen herds, and return them to their rightful owners. With great effort, the elders managed to stop the impassioned warriors and convince them to wait. The government never went after the stolen herds, and by the time the Maasai learned of this betrayal 2,000 head of cattle had disappeared, never to be found. For the Maasai, who believe that Engai (God) gave them all the cattle on earth as their birthright, the theft of 2,000 animals and being denied the right to retrieve the stolen herds was a profoundly crushing blow that would haunt them for years. Extract from Beckwith and Fisher’s Maasai journal, written in Tanzania in 1978 while they were living in a warrior camp overlooking the Serengeti plains. Joy of being As we walked toward a Rashaida Bedouin camp in the Eritrean desert, a group of women wearing silver embroidered veils met us. They took our hands in theirs, removed their delicate silver rings from their fingers and placed them on ours as a gesture of welcome. Then, holding our hands, they led us to their desert camp. One of the many pleasant surprises we experienced in our early days in Africa was the frequent and natural way Africans touched each other. Maasai warriors preparing for a dance to celebrate their prowess in battle spent hours delicately braiding each other’s hair and painting each other’s faces. Dinka pastoralists in a remote desert camp, absorbed in watching a ceremony, leaned together with their arms draped around each other’s shoulders. Two Oromo girls in a village market kissed each other tenderly on the lips in greeting. To this day, the African art of touching still delights and inspires us. Touching in traditional African societies is much more than just a way of showing affection. In fact, it is often not about affection at all, but simply an elegant form of communicating in the most direct and deliberate way. For African people, touching is a natural outgrowth of the supportive relationships created by the extended family and age-grade system. Confidence in knowing that one is a valued and beloved member of a tightly knot community creates a trusting environment in which a wider and richer range of communication is possible. Emotional security encourages the physical freedom to express oneself without the inhibitions that prevail in the Western world. In Africa, we have learned that touching is a special language of its own. The art of attraction During courtship season, we were intrigued to see two men seducing the same girl. We learned that Wodaabe tradition allows male cousins of the same age the freedom not only to display affection towards each other, but also to become lovers of the same girl. If the girl decides to marry one of the cousins, the other will always be welcome at the camp of her husband, who will generously offer his wife for the night – but only with her consent. In this unique relationship between men no jealousy is permitted, and the normal Wodaabe tradition of reserve is lifted. Another Wodaabe practice both intrigued and involved us. When a Wodaabe man is attracted to a woman, he will often wink at her. She is required to be modest and lower her eyes demurely. However, if she is interested, she will lower her eyes only part way, and he will then twitch the corner of his mouth to indicate a meeting place behind a bush. Before we understood the meaning of this practice, handsome Wodaabe men would wink at us and we would respond with delight – winking back two or three times. Eventually Nebi took us aside to tell us how forward our behaviour was, and taught us the proper secret code of female eye response. To subscribe or order this issue click here

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