It did not occur to me, while standing on the dust eaten roads of my childhood village, that the frightening spectacle of dancing masquerades at the market was actually a performance of indigenous art. As the highlight of our family’s trips to the east, my sister and I were always escorted to these masquerade viewings by aunts and older cousins. But the outings usually ended in tears. I felt, at the time, that I was in some kind of horror story, my heart would ram against my chest hoping that the masked gaze of these creatures would not look my way; that they would not charge in a feat of ancestral rage towards my tiny viewing corner. If they turned around or swirled in my direction, if they raised their canes at another unfortunate viewer, I would scream, and then feel my tears as they rolled down my cheeks. Yet, the very next time I was in the village, I wanted to go see them again—it was a hopelessly tortured cycle riding on hysteria and entertainment.
Great read! Indeed, the past shapes the present and the future; hence, a visit to the past helps guide the future.
Have a prosperous 2023, Tochi.