This book is my doctoral dissertation defended in the Department of French and Romance Philology at Columbia University in 1981 under the direction of Michael Riffaterre and published in a revised edition by Summa Publications in 1986. As such, it is at the origin of my scholarly work and likewise initiated the beginning of my artistic work in choreography. It is a document with roots far back in the past in several senses. I should say immediately that it was an uncommon dissertation topic for the field of French literature, and I remain grateful to Professor Riffaterre for his enthusiastic support. At the time of its writing during the 1970s, the body was emerging as a new focal point of the humanities, especially in France. But this dissertation was still unusual for being not just about the “body” in a metaphorical sense but about a historical practice of dance, and about the relationship of historically specific dancing bodies to texts that spoke about them both directly and indirectly. Here the notion of intertextuality came to the fore as, in the words of Julia Kristeva, “an intersection of textual surfaces.” My primary materials were the earliest European texts about dancing—the so-called dance treatises or instruction manuals that often took the form of dialogues—in relation to other writings that dealt with physical comportment in nondance contexts. The treatises were not actual lessons, but representations of lessons or transpositions of lessons into texts also containing a philosophical dimension. Nonetheless, my working hypothesis was that dance treatises lacked the crucial elements of the dancing body in movement. This is what I referred to, perhaps some-what hyperbolically, as the absence of the dancing body in these writings. The intertexts, however, provided the missing elements of a culturally alive body in movement. The way to understand dance in its written manifestations at this historical moment was to attend to an elsewhere of dance.

This now fully historical dance had become an absent element in history. Unable to be observed in live performance, it lurked in the crevices of discursive statements as supplemented with illustrative drawings, musical tabulatures and alphabetical signs for steps.

A. Dance as a “Theoretical” Practice of Propriety: Tuccaro

There is one Renaissance text that relates dance to civility on a theoretical level. In his Trois Dialogues de l’exercice de sauter et voltiger en l’air, essentially a gymnastic treatise, Archange Tuccaro devotes the first of three dialogues to an apology of the dance. Neither the apology nor the theoretical positions emanating from it are supplemented with practical examples of dancing. This is a theoretical text as far as dance is concerned. My discussion of it is meant merely to confirm, within the epistemological framework of the Renaissance, the relevance of a sociological intertext for the dancing body.

The dialogues unfold before the court of Charles the Ninth during a respite from the festive progress through Touraine celebrating his marriage with the Royne Elisabel. “Dans une grande sale, qui regardoit sur un jardin” (In a large hall overlooking a garden), the company is assembled to witness the leaps of the renowned gymnast Archange Tuccaro. Seigneur Cosme proposes that Tuccaro also expatiate on the “reigles qu’on doit observer, par le moyen desquelles il s’est exercé à réduire en art et méthode, la vraye démonstration, et certaine conoissance de l’exercice du saut tourné en l’air” (rules that must be observed, through which he went about reducing the true demonstration and certain knowledge of the exercise of the turning leap into an art and method). Prior to Tuccaro's demonstration and pedagogical discourse, a debate unfolds in the meta-language of the etymological tradition. “Il suffit,” says Cosme's interlocutor Ferrand, “que la proprieté des choses, mesmement des mots, se cognoisse, et s’entende selon la particulière signification qu’ils ont” (It suffices that the property of things, and in a like manner of words, be known and understood following the particular meaning they have). The crux of the debate is the etymological definition of the word Palaestrita, used by Cosme to predicate Tuccaro. Ferrand argues that Palaestrita does not apply to Tuccaro because the term Palestre refers to the activity and place of wrestling as well as to the wrestler himself, whereas Tuccaro is a master.

A. The Interpretant

In this chapter I shall elaborate a model for the interaction between dancer and spectator based on the movement of the voice in social intercourse. My model will be developed from a reading of Stefano Guazzo's La Civil Conversatione. The work consists of a series of dialogues between il Cavalier Guglielmo convalescing from a severe illness and a friend who visits him, the doctor and philosopher Annibale Magnocavalli (I will call him Annibale as does the text). The contrasts between Castiglione and Guazzo are well known. The epitome of etiquette in 1528, which Castiglione designated with the neologism sprezzatura, was elaborated by Guazzo in 1574 within a more pragmatic field of operation, which he called “conversatione” and which can be understood in general terms as social intercourse. Conversare is a broad theme in Guazzo's text delimited chiefly by its opposition to solitude to convey the idea of community or consortship. Although it was frequently read and translated in the Renaissance and delves further into the mechanisms of social exchange than do other courtesy books, I have not chosen Guazzo's text because it is especially representative of the “art de plaire” genre. I have chosen it, rather, as a textual interpretant. The term interpretant has been proposed by Michael Riffaterre for signs or texts that “contain a model of the equivalences and transferrals from one code to the other.” In the language of dance treatises, dance is “a” civility and “a” rhetoric in that its theory is a juncture between persuasion and urbanity. Therefore, courtesy books are an intertext for dance treatises with regard to precepts. Civility's theory of social interaction is the intertext for the dancing body's effect on the spectator because in Guazzo's text, conversatio is rendered by a rhetorical code. The rhetorical code thus becomes the interpretant joining text to intertext: ultimately, the theory of the interaction of dance to the theory of the interaction of conversare.

On a November afternoon in 2009, Henshaw Town, also known as Nsidung, a district of Calabar South, exploded with the sounds, music, and performance of their local Agaba faction (Figure 2.1). The group known as Nsidung, a youth Agaba association composed of the infamous Nigerian Area Boys, overtook their local community with the seductive sounds of their gongs. Nsidung's hostile energy was also felt as two armed masqueraders, along with fellow members who were concealing machetes, poured into the streets. The performance followed the initiation of a new member. The display was the final part of the new member's induction, announcing to the community that another had joined their ranks. And so, for about two hours, Nsidung used this opportunity to reinforce their territorial claim over Henshaw Town.

About thirty minutes into the performance, as the audience slowly grew in size, the two masqueraders did something unimaginable: they unmasked! The president of the Nsidung faction, wearing a wooden facemask, dancing in the foreground of the assembled group, held the attention of the onlookers. In the blink of an eye, he paused his choreography and slid his mask to the top of his head, revealing his identity to the gathered community (Figure 2.2). Immediately following this audacious act of unmasking, he stood with his hands raised, in a threatening manner, facing the crowd, a content smirk on his face, enjoying his defiant moment of breaking the most sacred and ubiquitous rule of African masking: removing the veil of secrecy, thus undermining the very power that “lurks” in the mask.

After the second masquerader followed suit and unmasked, the president grabbed his machete and started to duel with a fellow member. With the mask now lying on the concrete road, the aggressive, theatrical machete bout demonstrated the real potent force behind Agaba: the notoriously known members having the spirit and mind to use violence and hostility when necessary (Figure 2.3). The case of unmasking and threat of violence is far from “boys just being boys” or merely youths “playing around” with masquerades. Both acts suggest how important spatial and economic concerns are in the culture of masquerade and performances in the city.

On a November night in 2009, at about eleven o’clock, I was driving to an Ekpe night ritual featuring an important masquerade display in Calabar South. Accompanying me were three Efik Ekpe members with whom I have been working for some time. Among them was Chief Ekpenyong Bassey Nsa, the highly respected Efik Ekpe artist featured in chapter 5; My other two companions, who will remain anonymous due to local protocol, are sought after and awarded Ekpe masqueraders—accolades both still enjoy to this day.

As we navigated through the dark and desolate streets late that night, we informally chatted about Nigeria's World Cup chances, joked about something that happened the day before, and discussed what tonight's ritual would entail. I distinctly recall one of the two masqueraders quietly sitting, caught in a contemplative, detached state. I initially thought something was wrong since he normally enjoyed engaging in this type of friendly banter. I recall seeing him in my rearview mirror: the weight of his head rested on his hand, supported by the backseat's armrest. His intent gaze was blankly fixed on the console between the driver and passenger's seat. He was unmistakably caught in a state of deep thought and reflection.

Soon after we arrived at the ritual site, I learned he was the one to don the all-important Nyamkpe Ekpe masquerade and execute its related performance. Weeks later, during discussions with him, I learned his quiet solitude during our car ride marked a critical moment of his mental, physical, and artistic preparations for his Nyamkpe state of mind (refer to Figure 3.10). It is important to stress that the performance that night was indeed Nyamkpe, a mask defined as the most significant and sacred of all Ekpe masquerades. Scholars working in the Cross River region have noted this mask's importance. However, some have incorrectly likened Nyamkpe, as well as other Ekpe masquerades, to a type of “leopard spirit” (Talbot 1926, 785; Jones 1956, 140; Latham 1973, 37; Thompson 1974; Ekpo 1978, 73; Lieb and Romano 1984), perpetuating the idea that this society is shrouded in animism, or that Ekpe/Mgbe masqueraders transform into an animal spirit or ancestral entity; both of these ideas are very far from the truth.

On a Saturday afternoon in December 2009, the streets of a section of Calabar were overtaken with an expressive explosion of excitement as an Ekpe procession publicly took to the streets (Figure 5.1). As usual with this type of performance, something city dwellers often encounter multiple times a year, Efik Ekpe members strolled at a pace to their liking, singing and rejoicing, publicly celebrating the installation of a member to the rank of chief or titleholder of the society. All members were decked out in the latest chieftaincy fashions, some locally produced while most were imported: flat or “ivy” caps, walking sticks, damask and nkisi wrappers, and long shirts of colorful eyelet embroidery and cotton manufacture. Behind the chiefs, lesser members filed behind with drummers situated at the back of the procession, each dressed in long white shirts of rayon and cotton with wax-print wrappers neatly tied around their waists. Outfitted in my chieftaincy garb, as I scrambled to document and photograph the multimedia spectacle as it poured into the streets, thoughts of my own public Mgbe chieftaincy rite performance engulfed my mind.

Although I have documented and participated in eleven Ekpe/Mgbe chieftaincy installations, this was the first since becoming an Ekpe/Mgbe chief; with such experiences and knowledge fresh on my mind, I was much more attuned to the ways in which the expressive currencies of dress, structured procession, music, and masquerades facilitated a spatial dialogue between members and the growing crowd, who overwhelmingly paused their daily grind to witness and remark on the pageantry as it passed by. The major ingredients crystalizing the dialogue that day were four masquerade characters moving in tandem with the marching members. Two of the masquerades’ costumes were made mostly from raffia, a local material. The other, Ebonko with its cloth manufacture, dramatically contrasted the natural raffia masquerades. Ebonko was a visual beacon for onlookers with its aesthetic based on global imports, a curious composition that those unfamiliar with Ekpe/Mgbe might not expect to see from a long-standing West African secret society (Figure 5.2).

The visual and performative elements of Ekpe/Mgbe chieftaincy, primarily with dress and masquerade ensembles, stimulate multiple ideas and historical reflections.

I vividly recall all my initiations into secret societies explored in this book. Each had a profound impact on me. I can lucidly describe the environment in which they took place, recall most attendees, and expound on the sensorial qualities I experienced: visuals, smells, tastes, and sounds. My initiation into the Nnabo cultural association known as a warrior-related society, but perhaps better referred to as a “war dance,” was no different. The initiation began with a sacrifice of gin, native egg (noncommercial), and pepper powder. I presented my oath of allegiance and loyalty to present and past members.

During the sacrifice I was asked to break an egg over the altar to bind my initiation. I hesitated with uncertainty and thought to myself: was I supposed to break it literally over the altar or throw it as I have seen done in other ritual contexts? The leader, Iso Edim, laughed and lightly teased me over my indecision. I quickly recovered face, and confidently threw it with force, smashing the egg perfectly. Members marveled at my tactful recovery—the egg yolk splattered and sluggishly oozed down the altar. Several steps ensued that I cannot disclose. Then, with the help of the gathered members, I completed my initiation with the Nnabo chant, which finalized my membership.

All of this occurred at an altar inside the faction's “shrine,” a makeshift storage shed with a shabby attached porch where members congregated. It was located in the back of the leader's compound. I recall a thought I kept to myself at the time: I was incredulous that such an important structure holding the faction's most important paraphernalia was actually a barely standing, condemned outhouse. Such a guise, I later learned, was a clever attempt to misguide the curious or those filled with malicious intent. Soon after I chanted, leader Iso Edim grabbed my arm and ushered me deeper into the “cloaked” structure, pointing at a costume hanging on the wall. He firmly told me, “This is the Ayabom you saw the other time; look at it, touch it, smell it.”

I was about five inches away from one of the most striking images I have ever seen.

I stood shoulder to shoulder with fellow Mgbe members in front of a Qua-Ejagham clan's newly rebuilt lodge. The members of the gathered audience jockeyed for position to see what was about to unfold. Those uninitiated were sure not to encroach on Mgbe's exclusive stage. Everyone watched the clan head of the Nkonib community with anticipation. Ntoe Patrick Oquagbor V stood in the limelight in front of the lodge, facing the community. His fellow Mgbe chiefs flanked him. Oquagbor V addressed those assembled. He then enthusiastically poured a libation to the ancestors of Mgbe for the entire community to witness (Figure 3.1). Following protocol, he capped off the offering to the ancestors by reciting an Mgbe chant. This time, however, in lieu of his firm yet reserved tone, he thundered the chant in a roaring voice—no doubt a tactical strategy aimed at those who opposed Mgbe and the religious act of pouring a libation to the society's ancestors.

The libation offering took place immediately after an elaborate royal procession in honor of the clan head's coronation anniversary. Such a performance reinforced the royal structure of the community and Oquagbor V’s rightful place as the clan's monarch. Pouring libation in front of the Mgbe lodge punctuated the royal performance by reinforcing the exclusive spatial divide between those initiated and those not. Indeed, the day was strategically packed with morning and afternoon rituals, processions, and masquerades—all of which gravitated around dedicating the freshly renovated Mgbe lodge in the aftermath of its recent vandalism. The all-important structure had been set afire months prior to this day. The impetus for the act was fueled by ongoing debates about the place of offering libations. Oquagbor V's public offering and related performances were a well-executed and highly organized spatial rebuttal concerning the place of local culture in urban Calabar on that November morning in 2009.

The narrative that follows contextualizes why anyone would dare to desecrate a lodge representing the most prominent association throughout the entire Cross River region (culturally, historically, and politically speaking). With this case, I seek to contextualize the crucial role that space occupies in the ongoing debate over the relevance of masquerade culture and the male secret societies that perform them.

He was utterly exhausted. His movements were visibly cautious as he labored on. Yet, despite his noticeable fatigue, his crisp choreography, so expertly executed, demonstrated the confidence of a veteran and master performer at work. This was the last time Qua Mgbe Chief Emmanuel Edim (Coda1), one of my closest teachers, masqueraded before officially retiring. His retirement permits me to publish his name as I do in this context. Chief Edim performed the raffia Mgbe masquerade during the end-of-the-year festival period in December of 2009. He was nearly sixty years old at the time of this performance—something very few would even dare. Most who perform Ekpe/Mgbe raffia masquerades in the city are in their late teens, twenties, and thirties. Few continue to perform Ekpe/Mgbe raffia masks after the age of forty. The strength and endurance required for a couple of hours of masking, let alone an entire day, does not favor an elderly body. This is what makes Chief Edim's performance remarkable: he was able to perform, albeit in a slower, more refined manner, for the duration of the entire morning.

During a short break, a normal procedure that permits maskers to hydrate and rest out of view, he called me over. He said, “I want you sabi [to know] I dey enter [mask] today. I dey try-o!” As he spoke those words, beads of sweat seeped from his brow as he gasped for air; it seemed his exhaustion overtook him. Yet, when his break came to a close, he slipped the raffia mask back over his head and continued on like the seasoned performer he was. In reading this anecdote, one may ask why an elder chief of Mgbe would subject himself to the physical and demanding hardships of masking at such an age? Was the risk of serious injury and embarrassment if he fell worth it? I marveled at my elder teacher as I watched him do what normally men more than half his age attempt. I knew from lessons he taught me months before that this was indeed worth the risk for him.

The potential dangers Chief Edim chose to face that day reminds us to consider an overlooked aspect of research on African expressive culture: the importance of individual motivation.

I stood alongside community members observing a powerful display of youthful exuberance ignited by a collective fervor of sounds: singing, drumming, shrieking police-styled whistles, and the clang of machetes violently struck against metal and concrete surfaces. By eleven o’clock on an August night in 2018, the unified voice of the Efik vigilante youth group, known by the namesake of an area of Calabar South, Ekpo Bassey, was loudly heard. The expressive synergy produced that night was as memorizing as it was poignant. Vigilante performances such as this were rare and only organized in times of need.

A couple days prior, around three in the afternoon, alleged “cultists” armed with machetes, and possibly guns, were spotted fleeing a crime scene through the Ekpo Bassey area of town. Two unknown assailants coordinated an attack on a resident of Nsidung, slashing the victim with machetes in broad daylight. Thankfully, he survived. Alarm quickly mounted throughout the community. A few concerned residents of Ekpo Bassey, a section of the larger Nsidung area of Calabar South, responded by assembling their neighborhood vigilante youth group. The purpose was to acknowledge youths for their service to the neighborhood by treating them to a generous assortment of drinks. The second objective was to provide a stage for the youths to be heard. And as planned, a beautifully raw performative concert infused with potent artistic intention manifested. With the medium of sound, cloaked by the veil of night, the vigilante group spatially demarcated the Ekpo Bassey section of town under the protection of the youth.

This chapter turns attention to the understudied topic of acoustic performances staged at night. The associations at the heart of this analysis include Akata, Obon, and the Ekpo Bassey vigilante youth group. Akata is best understood as a trusted source of news for the community. During nighttime performance, Akata unabashedly exposes secrets of people regardless of rank or societal position (Figure 4.1). Obon, on the other hand, has two main duties: burying those who died “difficult” deaths and fighting negative forms of witchcraft (Figure 4.2). The Ekpo Bassey vigilante group is a recent permutation from Akata, Obon, and Agaba (see Figure 2.1). Devised as a grassroots Efik youth group, Ekpo Bassey vigilantes are in charge of deterring criminal activity in the community by conducting night watches.

“Three hundred for each” said the market seller, a woman in her mid-thirties, as she priced a middle-sized, decorative accent bell. “Nooo! I don't have that kind of money!” Chief Ekpenyong Bassey Nsa calmly yet sternly retorted. He followed up: “I will give 50 for each.” The woman cautiously studied the chief. She said, “No,” explaining that she “use to sell them for 200 each.” Chief Bassey Nsa let out another animated, “Nooo, if I buy, I will not feed again—my money will finish-ooo!” A chorus of robust laughter rang out from those in earshot. The woman even let out a chuckle herself; she said with a wide grin, “Brother go [leave].” The veteran haggler now had her right where he wanted. The chief responded softly, “No, you need to sell them to me before I go, for 100 each.” “Brother buy,” she said, finally giving in with a smirk on her face. Chief Bassey Nsa thanked her, paid, and off we went to the next stop in his hunt for materials for a cloth Ebonko ensemble.

I witnessed countless transactions not unlike this one throughout my time working with master artist Chief Bassey Nsa. Nigeria's local markets, as well as many in Africa, are renowned for haggling since very few prices are fixed. The market is a space riddled with informal economies mixed with personalities that seethe with frustration or beam with the satisfaction of a good deal. Performative charismas fill every nook and cranny of an African market. Transactions themselves are not unlike performances that swirl with vibrant, confrontational energies roused between buyer and seller. A keen sense of humor and economic acumen mixed with ardent bargaining always accompanied Chief Bassey Nsa when shopping for materials before starting each and every masquerade ensemble. Performative events not unlike the chieftaincy spectacle discussed in the previous chapter, similar to how masquerade ensembles are created, are brought to life from the transactions that bring together market forces and the expressive currencies individuals create to enliven them.

In shifting from the spatial aspects to the economic, this chapter, and the following two, demonstrate that economics saturate all aspects of masquerade activity.