Free Ethnographic Sorcery by Harry G. West

held. They then retreated to the edge of the village, where they dressed for the dance. As the sun set, younger boys set fires inside the enclosure and heated the skins of their drums in the flames. Near dusk, the dancers reappeared. One was dressed in a trench coat and wore a crown of porcupine quills. Another sported a pair of aviator glasses. Each dancer wore leg wraps to which dozens of ball-shaped bells had been attached. With every step, they jangled. Their leader was dressed as a lipiko— a figure, representing a spiritual entity, that historically appeared to dance at various Makonde ceremonies (including, especially, rites of initiation), striking fear into the hearts of all who remained ignorant of the lipiko ’s “true” identity. 4 Not a patch of skin revealed the human figure within the lipiko costume. His torso, waist, and limbs were tightly wrapped in cloth. He wore a straw skirt around his midsection, a helmet mask over his head, and gloves on his hands. 5
    Out of the cacophony of noises produced by the young boys warming and testing the drum skins, there emerged, in time, a coordinated rhythm. The dancers entered the enclosure and moved in short stutter steps around its circumference. One of the drummers broke away from the fire and approached thedancers. Turning ninety degrees inward toward the drummer, leaning forward at the waist, hands in front of them, arms bent slightly, the dancers rose to the challenge of his distinctive beat until the drummer retired to the fire. The dancers then circled round the enclosure until the next drummer approached and challenged them. From time to time, observers—boys and girls, elder men and elder women—joined in, following the principal dancers’ trail around the circle. For hours, they danced. 6
     
    By midnight, a crowd of several hundred had gathered in and around the enclosure. The drumming came to a halt, and Chofer announced that, in a short time, the troupe would stage a performance in the enclosure. 7 The principal dancers left, and a few colleagues prepared the “stage.” A reed mat, curled into a semicircle, was stood on end, and a capulana 8 draped over it, making a tiny hut. A small pot was placed on the ground inside the hut.
    Half an hour after they had disappeared, the dancers reemerged from the darkness and drew close to the enclosure. Led by the lipiko, the others were naked except for white loincloths. Had it been darker, I was told, they would have been completely naked—“as sorcerers actually are.” A lone dancer ran across the stage and back to the edge of the enclosure to concentrate the audience’s attention. A few minutes later, another did the same. The audience at once grew more attentive and more impatient. Another dancer ran in front of them and said boldly, “Don’t smoke any cigarettes! If you do, you’ll be provoking those of us who have none!” With this public-service announcement made, the performance began.
    The troupe stutter-stepped their way into the enclosure, led by the lipiko. I was now informed by a young companion of the dancers that this lipiko was the most sophisticated and lethal of all sorcerers. 9 On their second pass in front of the hut, the lipiko entered the dwelling and, there, discovered the small pot. The pot, I was told, was the flesh of the hut’s owner, who—unseen to us but falling within the gaze of the sorcerer bearers of shikupi— slept unawares. The lipiko pulled several unseen portions of fleshfrom the pot and thrust them in his mouth. Several onlookers let loose expressions of horror: “Eeeeeee!”
     
    Once the lipiko had departed the hut, a figure emerged from the edge of the stage carrying a bottle. He was an nkulaula (healer), I was told. He had been summoned by the owner of the house—who was now suffering from the lipiko’ s attack—and the bottle he carried was a lipande (an antisorcery mine).
    When the players passed once more in front of the house, they began, one by one, to