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| A very simple theriomorph -- a horned human figure -- from African rock art. |
In this post, I provide a translation for an article by A. Muzzolini on rock art of the central Sahara. To see the figures he refers to, please look up the French original, which appeared in the journal, Archeo-Nil, May 1991, on pages 17 through 42. Bold numbers in square brackets are the page numbers. Muzzolini's notes and references appear in the original article as well.
MASQUES ET
THEROMORPHES DANS L’ART RUPESTRE DU SAHARA CENTRAL
(MASKS AND THERIOMORPHIC FIGURES IN
CENTRAL SAHARAN ROCK ART)
by Alfred Muzzolini
Archéo-Nil May 1991, pp. 17-42
(plus figures 1-13 on subsequent unnumbered pages)
Abstract (in English as presented in the original article)
MASKS AND THEROMORPHIC
FIGURES IN CENTRAL SAHARIAN ROCK ART.
After recalling the rock art chronology, Saharian masks and theromorphic
figures are described. They are found
for the most in the “Naturalistic Bubaline” school (mainly at Oued Djerat in
Tassili and Mathendous in Fezzan) and in the Tassilian Round Heads. Their positon with regard to peripheral areas
is specified. Contacts with the
pharaonic Egypt or the Predynastic are very unlikely. But a very old, common archaic substratum,
peculiar to the Afro-asiatic linguistic group, is perhaps reflected by a common
“africanness” in artistic themes. [as in original]
It
is wholeheartedly
that the author of these lines
adheres to the project recorded in the Editorial of the inaugural issue
of this magazine: "Provide a
meeting ground for some (prehistorians) and others (Egyptologists)."
For the vast plains and mountains stretching to the west of
the last oases of the Western Desert,
these desolate lands where the evil Seth reigned, were less empty of human occupation than the Egyptians believed. And
during the long night that
preceded the unification of the Kingdom
of the Two Crowns, structured
social groups, perhaps even peoples,
in certain epochs
traveled a desert much less
arid than it is today. Hunters or shepherds,
their fate could sometimes cross that of
the groups that gradually took root in the alluvial plain of the Nile. Do traces of such contacts, or snatches of perhaps formerly common
beliefs, still exist? Almost hidden
in a hollow rock
on the bank of a tributary of the
Mathendous,
south-west of Libya, a rock carving
suddenly arises, a disquieting image of a
man with the head of a jackal:
it inevitably evokes
the god Anubis.
Could it be?
Our curiosity is legitimate. Masks and theriomorphs in
Saharan rock art, which we propose
to study here, are required immediately as a
possible rapprochement. Masks and humans with animal heads [18]
are known forms in
many ideologies. Do not those of the Sahara and those of
Egypt, however, have a mutual foundation
– an original "Africanness"?
We
must first define the rules of
such a methodological study,
a necessary precaution so as not to
cause an "archeological fiction"
to be written on the
basis of some formal similarities that could only have arisen due to accidental convergences. After a
brief chronology of Saharan
rock groups -
a dimension that our study cannot provide -
we will describe the
actual groups wherein masks and
theriomorphs are found, and those where
they are not found, an absence that
may be significant. This will provide a
cultural mosaic that we will try to interpret, more
broadly, in its African context.
I.
Method of study
The
only masks
in Saharan rock art that we apprehend
as such are masks of animal heads. A difficulty
arises when we undertake an inventory of the instances. How does one distinguish, in the rock
art images, a mask – a material
object borne, for symbolic purposes,
by a real man
to give the appearance, only the appearance, of a different head, for example of an animal - and a theriomorph with an animal head, a mythical being,
half man, half animal? Theoretically, the mask has a lower limit, which should be marked by an almost horizontal line at the height of the bust, or encircling
the neck, while the theriomorph shows no trace
of such a demarcation. Some authors demand this criterion and
decide between the two entities according to it. But this requirement appears very questionable.
On
the one hand, masks can in fact reach the ankles: for
example, even today, dancers, in some African tribes, cover themselves completely with an entire skin
of an ox, and the
appearance that results is that
of a theriomorph with a horned head. On the other hand, a
line under the neck can also
sometimes mark a necklace, or
the top of a garment, as much as the
bottom of a mask (e.g., fig.
3 h, 4 e). More
generally, one cannot expect of an
engraver of rock representation a
respect for detail,
which only appears rational in our
designs of the twentieth century. In many arts called "primitive," the important thing is not formal similarity,
but the mere presence of the object represented: here, the head of an animal. And the engraver could disregard
the detail of the dividing line at the base, like so many other details considered unnecessary or
even inappropriate.
This is true both in rough
or schematic or
slightly naturalistic styles, and
in the so-called naturalistic
styles, because even in these, it is a
matter of naturalism in overall
expression which is only required by rendering forms
deemed essential for the function of the
image. In other words,
we cannot accept the overly simple criterion
of the marking of the lower limit
of the mask: whether it exists or
not, there is usually indecision over the interpretation.
This
consideration substantially affects the basis of our inventory. In any event, lines of demarcation at the base
are very few - maybe half a dozen cases in all central Saharan rock art – and such
indecision prohibits the possibility of a study distinguishing masks and theriomorphs. It seems more sensible to
establish one set from these two categories.
Not only because a study, thus
globalized, then becomes possible,
but because the two categories certainly belonged, in the collective imagination, to a single conceptual
archetype: one that admitted a certain [19] identity (of whatever nature, function, value, or
place in a symbolic
language) between man and animal. The mask is only an artifice creating
the image of a referent conceived as real, the
mythical theriomorphic being. It will be objected that we allow a speculative
component to intervene already in the inventory records, an inventory that should
confine itself to the "objectivity"
of the collection.
We recognize that. But our hypothesis which is to replace the two categories,
"mask" and "theriomorphs," with a single category, "representations
using the hybrid image of a human-animal for symbolic
purposes," seems to us acceptable
at least as a working
hypothesis.
It should be noted already that,
in Saharan rock art, only the heads
of these hybrid representations are of animals; the
body is still human. The opposite - the sphinx or centaur
type for example - is not found.
Whether it is a matter of true
masks or of theriomorphs, we
encounter an additional difficulty
whether in groups of rough style, or in naturalistic
groups where a taboo
prevails, or conventions, for the
representation of the face. Sometimes we cannot
recognize the animal species
represented, nor probably even distinguish between
the face of an animal and the face of a human summarily
carried out or deformed. Some groups
frequently practice caricature
drawing, including that of giving
faces "a muzzle." We will discuss this point in different
contexts. Already
we note that many hasty sketches found in
the literature and labels such as
"masks" seem suspect to us,
being equally interpretable
as a caricature of a human
or as awkwardness of execution. It will be better to preclude from the debate those representations in which symbolic intent is not obvious.
We
will divide
representations of masks and theriomorphs of the central Sahara into the various artistic, historical, and possibly ethnic units. For each ethnic
group has its own collective imagination.
Some authors use a global structuralist approach for the whole of
Saharan rock art: this postulates a homogeneous Saharan block, a coherent
ideological system, that is never justified a priori, and no one sees why, in
this case, they do not extend this block, for example, to Egyptian art or Levantine
art, which is roughly contemporary. Mixing it all together,
even limiting it to central Saharan rock art, considering the ideologies of the
various specific groups recognized by classical archeology or
rock art studies, yields a single body of
myths and beliefs, invariable
through the millennia.
This oversimplification has exposed
monumental mistakes. If we were to admit
this hypothesis in the study of the symbolic European universe, for example, we
would strongly risk - in the absence of written texts - putting on the same
footing the Cretan goddesses, Athena or Venus, and the medieval worship of the
Virgin. We would seek common elements of
their legends – there are some - ending up with erroneous results, with false convergences,
for example, ignoring the crucial fact of the emergence of Christianity. We
need to avoid these mistakes, treating separately as much as possible the
various discrete blocks of collective imagination. And that, before any airing, projecting our representations onto the appropriate chronological
units (fig. 1).
II.
Chronology of the
rock art representations
Various teams are apparently on the verge of success in possibly directly
dating rock engravings (Nobbs-Dorn, 1988) and some
Australian paintings will soon be dated by
C14 (Loy et al., 1990).
But for now, no Saharan rock carving can yet be dated directly: the C14
dates [20] that are found in the
Saharan literature are only dates of carbon that was found at the foot of decorated
walls, dates extended – a bold speculation – to the representations on these
walls. As a result, many archaeologists believe, even if they do not express it bluntly, that Saharan rock art researchers
have no serious,
"scientific" basis for sequencing their representations chronologically, and therefore their classifications
are based on "intuition"…. This is just a preconceived notion and a misconception.
It is correct that, in previous
generations, many personal
prejudices were integrated into the classificatory systems. But for the last 20
years, the time frames of Saharan prehistory have been largely confirmed. If some researchers have not adopted the
necessary updates, others have not failed to take the new view of rock art
ensembles suggested by the new data.
The
researcher in Saharan rock art primarily provides a
classification into artistic groups, distinguished by various criteria
(techniques, patinas, figurative anthropological types, and especially
styles). He then orders these groups in
a relative chronology thanks to various chronological
gradations (patinas, superpositioning, sequence of fauna, certain themes). He finally anchors this “floating” sequence
thanks to absolute dates provided by other disciplines. Remnants of habitats dated by C14, zooarchaeology,
and climatology, in particular, have provided precise dates unknown to previous
generations, and that help locate populations and faunal contexts recorded in
the representations. For example, to
trace the beginning of rock art to the final Pleistocene, as asserted by Mori, now
proves unthinkable, because we now know that the central Sahara was then extremely
arid and empty of wildlife and people; similarly, one can imagine vigorous
pastoral groups and a fauna of large, wild mammals during the “Arid
post-Neolithic,” a climatic episode that can be quite precisely dated to
2500-1000 BC (+/- 500). For recent
phases, milestones that are clear enough – approaching a few centuries – are
provided by the dates of introduction, from peripheral countries that had already
entered into history, of some domestic animals (the horse, the camel), of
certain objects of material culture (carts, various weapons), of writing, etc.
Ultimately, we come to a chronological timeline that is
fairly well assured and accurate but
imprecise – the two concepts are not
to be confused – in absolute chronology: this means that the sequence is
certain but the dates of various stages cannot be fixed except within a notable
range of uncertainty, on the order of +/- 500 years for the oldest periods of
rock art. This is embarrassing, of
course, especially for comparisons with well dated peripheral ensembles, for
example that of Egypt. But it is a
handicap that must be accepted for rock art.
It is not fatal. Many
“scientific” disciplines only deliver results stated either with margins of
uncertainty or in terms of probability, and such data can be dealt with.
The present author, after reconsideration of the inventories
and discussion (1986), which cannot be repeated here, has proposed the timeline
summarized in fig. 2 for the major blocs of rock art in the central Sahara and
the Saharan Atlas. For readers
unfamiliar with these problems of chronology, we only emphasize that our
synthesis deviates from the traditional chronologies on two essential points:
1.
It objects to the notion of a “bubaline period”
or a “phase of great wildlife” described by Lhote, Monod, Camps, [21] Mori, etc., as “prepastoral” or
“prebovid.” For us, this purported
“bubaline period” is a “style,” a “school,” of an age that was already “bovid”
or “pastoral”: clearly domesticated cattle are related, for example, to the “decorated
rams” of the Atlas.
2.
It objects to the very high dates attributed by
Lhote or Mori to the “bubaline period” (and thus to the “decorated rams” of the
Atlas and to the large buffaloes that are incontestably related to them): 5000
BC as the “minimum age” for Lhote, the “upper Pleistocene” for Mori, dates that
are incompatible with zooarchaeological data from excavations.
This correct scenario of time frames is necessary because
the representations of masks and theriomorphs prove to be confined to certain
groups. In fact, they appear with some
regularity in two groups that are among the oldest: those of the engravings of the
“Naturalistic Bubaline” – and again, only on a portion of this group’s area of
extent – and those of the Tassili paintings of the Round Heads. They then become scarce and disappear in more
recent periods.
III.
Masks
and theriomorphs in engravings of the “Naturalistic Bubaline” group
This well known group of engravings – the most naturalistic,
the most “beautiful” according to our Western canons of the twentieth century –
comprise the oldest engravings of the Saharan rock art sequence. This group has a wide distribution, from the Rio
de Oro to the Fezzan. Masks or
theriomorphs are neither rare nor frequent (1).
But they are found almost exclusively in two regions only: the Oued
Djerat (Tassili North) and in the rock art ensemble of the Messak Settafet
(Fezzan). The latter is more commonly
called the ensemble of the Mathendous.
At Oued Djerat, masks and theriomorphs mainly occur in the upper
part of the valley, that is to say on a stretch of about thirty kilometers (mainly
the Rock of Ahana). These compositions
are often called “erotic” – “obscene” or “pornographic” would be more
appropriate in terms of our modern codes of value – where the masks are worn by
ithyphallic men. These, in situations
without mystery, are often adorned with a huge caricatural phallus (fig.
3). This association of mask-phallus is
almost constant only in the Djerat. We
note that scenes of coupling and of phallic persons, but without masks, are not
uncommon as well in the Djerat.
What is the animal represented? One perceives a subtle game of referents, as
Michel Foucault would have seen in “Words and things.” For example, one type of fairly stereotyped
mask – also found at Mathendous – seen from the front, vaguely triangular,
quite symmetrical, is that of an animal that may resemble a cat (2) somewhat, with
short ears above the head (e.g., Lhote, 1976, fig. 372, 682) (fig. 3 a, 3 b). But this “cat” is endowed with eyes, a mouth,
and sometimes a nose, which confer on it an almost human expression. So one wants to give the phallic person a
mask symbolic of an animal, but one also wants that animal mask to “signify”
some concrete human iconically. To complicate
matters, in one case, two non-realistic horns, not proper to the species represented
by the mask, surmount heads: it is sometimes a matter of simplified horns in a
circular arc – perhaps cattle horns, perhaps also simplified horns not
interpretable as to species – but when the drawing is careful, they are twisted
horns evoking an antelope – hartebeest or addax. On the other hand, the person very usually
wears a false tail (a long, feline one, when it is well drawn, and not that of
an antelope). In one third of cases,
however, the mask [22] takes on an
elongated look, with a muzzle: it is that of a canid – a motif, we shall see, that
is classic to the Mathendous – and the thing is sometimes quite clear (e.g.,
fig. 3 d, 3 f, 3 h). But here again, the
expression sometimes seems humanized.
Thus, the hunter in fig. 3 h, who holds a bow, with hair reduced to some
above the head (he recalls exactly the jackal-headed man of Ti-n-Lalan, Acacus,
fig. 7 c). Other heads, quite human, simply
have two horns (fig. 3 g) (Lhote, 1976, fig. 377) or indeed long ears (of a
hare? of an ass?) (fig. 3 e( (ibid., fig. 571) sometimes analogous to the two
lobes that we note on the heads of the Round Heads, and even known
exceptionally on women (e.g., ibid., fig. 2082). This mixture of humanity and animality
appears confusing to us. That a man should
take on, just as the shamans of the San do, the appearance of an animal – as
Lewis-Williams explains to us – we still understand, but that the face of this
animal should be given a human expression (that of the shaman, or that of
another man?) requires a still more complex interpretative thesis for which we
have no key.
Many of the masks of the Djerat are, however, of very rough draftsmanship,
unusually coarse in this group which knows how to use, on occasion, very naturalistic
renderings. Thus, at Ouan-Rechla
(Soleil-havoup, 1988, p. 66), the man with a giraffe’s head walking at the head
of a row of giraffes and elephants, probably of the “Naturalistic Bubaline”
(3). Often, a reading such as
“bestialized human face,” without precision concerning the suggested “beast,”
would also be sustainable (e.g., Allard-Huard-Huard, 1981, p. 16, 46 – Lhote,
1976, fig. 372, 1695) (fig. 3 e). We
note, finally, an exceptional representation (fig. 3 c): on a rhinoceros of
good “bubaline” workmanship, a man with a huge phallus and using a dummy tail,
has a badly defined head but from which a rhinoceros horn seems to have come
loose. A squiggly line goes from the
phallus to the eye of the rhinoceros. It
probably depicts a jet of sperm, following a convention known elsewhere in Saharan
rock art, for which various glosses have been proposed: transmission of life, or of vital energy, etc.
– but none can be clearly assured.
Some masks, of various shapes, are found exceptionally, in
the Djerat, on women (Allard-Huard-Huard, 1986, p. II). But the style of these representations does
not allow attribution to the “Naturalistic Bubaline”; it is perhaps a matter of
works of a little later date.
In the Mathendous, masks or theriomorphs are a little more
common than at Djerat (cf. n 1). A
conventional type (e.g., fig. 4 c, 4 g, 5) is that of a man with a head
generally described as that of a jackal.
In fact, dog or jackal can hardly be distinguished (both species are documented
in lists of fauna of the Sahara). The
representation of this animal head indeed observes conventional canons (while
the naturalism of the animals in the Mathendous is often perfect). The muzzle is often square, not very
realistic. Long ears or ears with large
lobes as among the Round Heads emphasize animality. Yet the general expression of this animal face,
rendered by the eyes, the mouth in a faint smile, appears humanoid here also. We note that everything that has to do with
the representation of the face, whether of an animal in mask position, or of a man,
appears in the Bubaline, and especially in the Mathendous, tainted by taboos:
human faces without masks are often little dealt with, sometimes left without
any internal detail, sometimes even deliberately replaced by a smooth,
shapeless expanse. Sometimes we hesitate
between mask (of a cat?) or caricature, or simply conventional sketch (e.g.,
Castiglioni-Negro, 1986, fig. 484). Sometimes
the faces are endowed with non-realistic details expressing a graphic design or
tattoos (tribal?), considered more important than real organs, and which [23] make the facial features appear strange
to us (e.g., ibid., fig. 82) (fig. 4 f).
This man with the “jackal” mask is sometimes, but more
rarely than in the Djerat, represented as ithyphallic, and even more rarely
with a huge phallus. We note that, more
generally in the “Bubaline” of the Mathendous, a few scenes of coupling are
known, without masks, but they are rare, and the atmosphere of these scenes
(with hieratic women holding mysterious ovals, for example) have nothing of the
priapic character of the Djerat scenes.
We even note here a few cases of coupling involving masked men: a bestial coupling of a jackal-man with an
elephant (Jelinek, 1985, I, fig. 49, and perhaps also fig. 50), and a probable coupling
of masked men that are sometimes horned (ibid., fig. 51 and 1984, I, fig. 59).
The jackal-man is found either in isolation – for example
(fig. 5), engraved in a fracture in the rock, he looks toward the dark interior
of a severe fracture – or in many cases (about half) in the heart of
compositions apparently interpretable as related to hunting activities. Thus, in the well known scene of men dragging
a rhinoceros shot by an arrow (fig. 4 g), or in that of men clutching an
antelope’s neck (fig. 4 e). Moreover,
one of these jackal-men carries an ox on his shoulders (Castiglioni-Negro,
1986, fig. 122). This ox is probably a
wild ox killed in the hunt (its “pincer” horns, unusual in the domestic cattle
of the Mathendous, suggest this). In a
dozen cases, the masked man carries a bow, sometimes strung (ibid., fig. 406), or various
other weapons (ibid., fig. 480). But it
is clear that these varied scenes are symbolic and are not intended simply to
describe hunting exploits.
Theriomorphs or cat masks are also known from the Mathendous
(e.g., Graziosi, 1970, fig. 176). We
also note the famous “gatti-mammoni” (“cat-monkeys,” “Meerkätze” of Frobenius,
Castiglioni-Negro, 1986, fig. 61, 125) because their attitudes more resemble a
man than a macaque. The long tail and the
head with short ears are reminiscent of the heads of the Djerat, and are those
of cats, here in good “Naturalistic Bubaline” style (fig. 4 d). There are also in the Mathendous some bestial
features, just as at Djerat (e.g., fig. 4 b) (ibid., fig. 266, 267, 334), on
identical persons, seen from the front, with short ears, legs spread and huge
phalli. The facial expression is, again,
vaguely humanized. Their patinas are a
little light, however. Their rough style
and light patinas do not allow them to be included in the “Naturalistic Bubaline”
group. They belong to a more recent
group, which we have not succeeded in identifying.
Some masks have an equid muzzle (e.g., ibid., fig. 121 – Jelinek,
1984, p. 130 – 1986, II, p. 247-48, with horns, however), others, long ears
(e.g., Jelinek, 1985, II, p. 228), but the species often remains undetermined
(e.g., Castiglioni-Negro, 1986, fig. 192 and 406, again with archers related to
hunting activities). The masks
frequently bear horns (e.g., ibid., fig. 70, 121 – Jelinek, 1985, I, fig.
51-1985, II, p. 247-48) but these are often not realistic, or unrelated to the
species of animal represented by the mask (fig. 4 a). They must represent some independent,
conventional value. The false tail is
quite often found, instead, on persons, masked or not, or is a classic
loincloth hanging down, with two or three divisions, apparently ceremonial, typical
as among the Round Heads. Also as among
the Round Heads, there are big ears (or coiffures?) with two lobes, that are unrealistic
and conventional (e.g., the “gatto-mammone” or cat-monkey, Castiglioni-Negro,
1986, fig. 119, the man-jackal) (fig. 3 e).
Some muzzles and horns of the hartebeest antelope are noted here also. [24]
There is a single case of a mask with sheep horns and a
single one with the horns of a chevaline antelope, for their consonance with
the “sacred” animals of the Round Heads.
Finally, some unmasked men simply wear horns (fig. 6).
Other masks from the Mathendous leave one hesitating between
cat and canine (e.g., ibid., fig. 82) and the species of the animal is often
indeterminable (ibid., fig. 70). Some
strange details: one jackal-man has a rhinoceros horn (ibid., fig. 80), a man
with a very long muzzle, probably of a hippopotamus, pursuing two hippopotami
(fig. 4 c), an equid mask (or that of a bovid?) with horns, surmounting a quite
human head, with detailed hair and profile (ibid., fig. 121). That the mask may be worn atop the head is
not necessarily an error of the engraver: some masks of the Dogon are worn this
way (Dieterlin, 1990, p. 8). One
engraving, the “Garamantian Apollo” (Graziosi, 1981) (fig. 4 a), famous because
it was the first rock depiction reported in the literature, also shows a muzzle
that could be that of an equid or a hartebeest (or an ox as Graziosi suggests),
surmounted by fanciful horns. In one
case, the muzzle is of exaggerated length, like an elephant trunk
(Castiglioni-Negro, fig. 414).
These masks and theriomorphs of the “Naturalistic Bubaline”
group are almost non-existent outside the Tassili and Fezzan. The Hoggar, where one still notes
representations of this style, contains almost none. One does not find them either in the vast and
important part of the area of distribution of this linguistic group constituting
the Saharan Atlas, southern Morocco, and the Rio de Oro (4). The only hybrid figure that we may note there
is that of a well known engraving from Mouchgeug (Mountains of Ksour), which is
also clearly symbolic. Before a
decorated ram, two symmetrical people – or animals? – are enthroned in a
hieratic posture, joined back to back.
Their heads are small and bizarre; one believes one sees there an ovid [or
sheep]. Their common tail forms a spiral
around them. One of them is ithyphallic;
the sex of the other is disputed (Lhote, 1970, p. 67). All this highlights a spirit quite different
from that of the masks of the Djerat and Mathendous.
These differences in themes within the same “bubaline” stylistic
group well illustrate that “styles” and “artistic groups,” when they are found
over areas as large as that of the “bubaline” group, may not, for reasons that
escape us, follow exactly the same style (see discussion in: Muzzolini, 1986,
p. 110-18).
IV.
Masks and theriomorphs of the Round Heads
The Round Heads comprise a group of paintings confined
almost exclusively to the Tassili-Acacus and more or less contemporary with the
“Naturalistic Bubaline”; that is to say, it too dates to a very ancient period,
essentially. Some paintings show,
however, at least the survival of its techniques, of some themes and of some of
its styles, highly degenerate, into later periods contemporary with the “Final
Bovidian” (Muzzolini, 1989).
Masks and theriomorphs are known (5) in several of the
sub-groups that have been defined by the Round Heads, both in the oldest (the
“primitive Martian”) and in the most recent (“figures in solid ochre”)
(Muzzolini, 1986). This group follows a
schematic, expressionist style both for human faces, which respect a taboo or
convention banning, as in Islam today, the representation of the sense organs,
and for the faces of animals. Thus, the
determination of the species of animal represented by the masks [25] proves difficult. One finds (6):
1.
Figures decked out with a vaguely humanoid head
but surmounted by two large lobes. These
lobes may be the large ears of a donkey or hare, two species known both from
excavation and from representations.
They may instead simply represent conventional hairstyles. In any case, highly symbolic values are
evident in the context of these “bi-lobes.”
They are primarily found in the subgroup of the “Martians.”
On a wall in Sefar, next to one of these
“bi-lobes,” there are two other persons whose heads are replaced by a design
significantly larger than the head and representing a “jellyfish,” a strange
animal or graphic unique to this group of Round Heads and sometimes represented
independently (fig. 7 f). These
“jellyfish,” so called because wavy filaments hang down, sometimes resemble a
turtle because it comes out with a very short head or limbs, with hands or
claws. Obviously we do not know how to
explain the meaning of these intertwined symbols. We maintain for our purposes
only that human heads are replaced here by “jellyfish” as “equivalents.” A confirmation of this “equivalence” is
suggested at Tan-Zoumaitak, where there is a human head in the style of the
heads of “Martian” Round Heads – a simple circle, decorated inside with typical
chevrons –represented alone, but the usual filaments hang down from the
“jellyfish.”
2.
Paintings, at Sefar and Aouanrhet (central
Tassili), represent the mask alone, seen from the front, perfectly symmetrical,
without even the hint of a neck. In one
case, we face a horizontal series of three of these masks, joined together, and
identical. They are indeed masks because
they are also found in mask position on a human body (Fig. 8) (Lajoux, 1977, p.
55-56). They are depicted in a vigorous,
expressionist style, very modern looking, close to pure graphic and exceptional
among the Round Heads. They outline, but
very schematically, the sensory organs, unlike the usual taboo of the group. What referent did they represent, if they
were intended to “denote” anything? For
Lhote (1973, p. 87), one of these masks, that of the “sorcerer” of Aouanrhet,
evoked an antelope. But the high
forehead is rather humanoid and some of these masks present a detail of head
adornment, the “compartmentalized band,” that is often found on humans of the latest
Round Heads. That the mask of the
“sorcerer” is surmounted by horns proves nothing among the Round Heads, one is
trying to say: the group even endows real un-masked humans with horns, like the White
Lady (Lajoux, 1977, p. 60) or like the humans of Uan Tamauat (Acacus) (Fig. 7
a). That such drawings of masks
constitute a symbolic motif as much as an image and only suggest, in broad
strokes, the basic structure of man or animal’s face, is ultimately all that we
can advance. These expressive masks
belong to subgroups of recent Round Heads.
3.
Some “cat” masks: they resemble ogres in
children’s books, but an interpretation as “cats” remains possible (e.g.,
Lajoux, 1977, p. 63).
4.
Genuine masks represent a very elongated snout,
short ears, and sometimes horns, an animal very similar to that of the
“Garamantian Apollo,” and quite difficult to interpret. Thus, at Asadjan-oua-Mellen (central Tassili)
(Fig. 7 e), a masked hunter bends his bow (an unusual trait among the Round
Heads); another is seated at his feet.
Both muzzles are elongated, though not identical, but one bears horns –
a bit fanciful, but capable of being seen as twisted – the other not. This prompts one to consider the horns as an
additional value [26], independent
of the facial mask. One can see an equid
in these masks as easily as a hartebeest [or bubaline antelope]. We note on this subject that the animals of
the Round Heads obviously invested with “sacred” value are the sheep and the chevaline
antelope, not the bubaline antelope. But
sheep and chevaline antelopes are not represented among the masks. Such a disjunction is probably
significant. The bubaline antelope,
itself, hardly appears in the Round Head frescoes: despite the stylization of
the drawings, it is other species of antelope that one perceives.
Except in a remarkable case from Sefar, which
involves precisely a mask. Between two
worshipers and a large ox, all in “Martian” style and white in color,
apparently in connection with a “great god” further to the right, a large
hartebeest antelope occurs, identifiable by the shape of its horns and by the
bearing of its head. Its “sheath” indicates the male (Fig. 9). Precisely from this sheath comes a descending
row of three small antelopes, a row that crosses a mysterious circular sign in
ochre, traced beneath the belly of the antelope, and visibly tied to this
belly, where it stops. The last small
antelope is held at the neck by a masked man with long ears, who appears to be in
a position for coupling with the antelope.
Our reading is not certain, because such a scene is unique in the
Tassili. We are obviously tempted to
project onto the composition a meaning related to the theme of procreation, but
this may only be a matter of subjective interpretation. We maintain only that the masks may be linked
to themes of this nature.
5.
Men who are only horned are frequent in the
group, especially among the schematic little devils. Often it is unclear whether the extensions
above the heads should be interpreted as feathers or as horns, but in some
cases horns are certain. Their shape
evokes cattle or antelopes (e.g., Uan Tamauat, Acacus, Fig. 7 a). These are not masks, strictly speaking, but
the relationship to an animal probably comes from the same category in the
collective imagination of the group. The
symbolic value of these horns is particularly manifested in the very neat horns
of the White Lady, previously mentioned.
They recall exactly those of the great bubaline realization of the Mathendous,
the engraving of a “goddess,” legs apart.
In both cases “objects” appear between the horns that are scarcely
interpretable and obviously symbolic.
In the most recent groups, the faces are
sometimes crossed by a reserved area in the form of an unpainted, rectangular
surface. Here, it is not a real mask,
either, though this reserved area was sometimes interpreted as a wolf or veil. We would simply see this as evidence, again,
of the taboo against facial features, so common in the group of the Round Heads
(e.g., White Lady, Tamauat, Fig. 7 a).
We also note that faces, in all the groups of Round Heads, frequently
bear paint.
Note that false tails are rare among the masked
depictions of the Round Heads. The tails
only hang down from cloth, often bifurcated or trifurcated. An enigmatic object, in the shape of a fork
or magic wand, is carried by certain masked figures (e.g., Lajoux, 1977, p. 47)
and we also note it, identically, among some “bubaline” masks (e.g., at
Mathendous, Fig. 4 g). This confirms a
certain contemporaneity and probably some known symbolic value.
We note, finally, much less frequently than in
the “bubaline” group,” some masks or theriomorphs with the muzzle of a canid. We also recall that the taboo on sex is typical
among the Round Heads, so one scarcely sees in this group the magnified phallus
of the “Bubalin” (8). [27]
V.
Paintings
of the bovidian period
The absence of masks or theriomorphs is total in the paintings
of the “Old Bovidian,” of Negroid anthropological type (“group from Sefar-Ozanéaré).
In contrast, the mixed Abaniora group (“mixed” because it
represents both some of Negroid type, some Europoid types, and especially a
type of non-Negroid Blacks similar in appearance to modern Fulani) represents some
there, very rarely. In the final
Bovidian, the group from Iheren-Tahilehi, exclusively of Europoid types, are
represented similarly: they are few but clear.
The symbolic character, in these groups of the “Bovidian,” is still
evident.
Thus, at Tirehart Wadi (near Tamadjert, Tassili N.W.) (Kunz, 1988,
Pl. I), a pitched battle seems to oppose two rival bands. On the left, the Good Guys: a troop of
archers, painted flat as in the Abaniora style.
They are all decked out with masks of canids perfectly reminiscent of
those of the “bubaline” figures of the Mathendous, and with short tails. They draw their bows against the Bad Guys, represented
on the right by a troop of baboons, done in a very different style, that of the
late Round Heads. These baboons,
although riddled with arrows (many already have two or three stuck in their
bodies) are facing their foes. Their
aggressive stance, standing first, some with feet that are too humanoid, suggest
they could be human enemies that are bestialized. The baboon is rarely represented in rock art but
a few others are known. Thus, a site of
Round Heads in the Tassili, Tizzeine, presents a good example, painted in
“Martian” style.
A battle with the same aspect as that of Tirehart, with masked
men, but more confused, occurs at the Wadi Imirhou (central Tassili) (fig.
10). At Baidikoré (N.W. Tassili), three
men with canid masks (fig. 11), whose style evokes both that of Iheren-Tahilahi
and the late Round Heads, brandish bows and throwing sticks simultaneously, and
rush toward prey that is not visible.
At Tazerouk (near Dider, central Tassili), a shelter with
paintings in the style of Iheren-Tahilahi, a little elf bears horns (fig. 12). Nearby, there is a composition that is quite
effaced; nevertheless, it leaves visible a figure who pulls off the mask of
another (fig. 13). At Sefar, before a
classic mounted ox, a man is walking who wears an elephant mask with big ears
and trunk. At Ti-n-Tarleften A (N.W.
Tassili), a shelter in the style of Abaniora (Kunz, 1979, Pl. 4-4), a man wears
the head of an equid or of a bubaline antelope.
We note, in the Abaniora group and especially in the group from
Iheren-Tahilahi, very many simply caricatured drawings, representing faces
“with dog snouts” (e.g., Boccazzi, 1990, fig. 1). All the intermediate forms exist, from the
person with a very naturalistic, perfectly Europoid profile, to figures
“sketched” in a hurry, with misshapen muzzles, which make us think that these
are not canid masks at all. They have
neither physical meaning (it is not a matter of prognathous Negroids, as has
strangely been objected, in contradiction to our denomination of an
“exclusively Europoid group” for the group from Iheren-Tahilahi), nor symbolic meaning,
any more than the kind of oversized noses or spindly faces with which the
cartoonists Sempé or Faizant depict the French today.
VI.
Other
pre-equid or pre-camelid schools [i.e., groups before the domestication of horses
or camels]
Besides the “Naturalistic Bubaline” group, engravings of the
central Sahara include:
n
On one hand, the “Tazina school,” [28] a collection of engravings of a
very original schematic style, widespread throughout the Atlas, an area as vast
as that of the “Naturalistic Bubaline.”
Neither masks nor theriomorphs are reported. But this negative observation is hardly significant
here, because this group very rarely depicts people.
n
On the other hand, a large batch of engravings,
made in various styles and techniques, which we have proposed to leave (for the
moment) in a pseudo-group of “unclassifiables.”
This is what Lhote called “Decadent Bubaline” and “bovidian engravings”
– the concepts and meanings of these two entities are too vague and subjective
to be accepted – and various other local styles not reliably allocated to known
artistic groups. While these are
certainly prior to the camelid period, and some compositions are even prior to
the period of the horse, probably, that is all that can be said as far as age
(Muzzolini, 1986, p. 107-10 for discussion).
Masks or theriomorphs, relatively few in total and not homogeneous in
appearance, have been reported in these various groups. One notes, for example, among the engravings
of the Hoggar (Trost, 1981, p. 188-1990, fig. 2, 4, 6), on one hand, a mask,
apparently of a jackal, but here with an enlarged phallus and false tail, and
on the other hand, “cat” masks recalling those of the Djerat. But the coarse style and overly light patina
do not allow their attribution to the “Naturalistic Bubaline” period. Similarly for a masked figure with jackal
head and enlarged phallus from Ti-n-Affelfelen (Hoggar) (Camps, 1974, Pl. 19),
in crude style, with a dotted outline and light patina. We do not know what to relate these various
masks to.
The summary character of the depictions of this “unclassifiable”
group often leaves one in doubt: is it the head of an animal, or simply the
head of a man drawn without concern for realism, and which presents by chance a
deformation resembling, for example, a canine muzzle?
We must make a separate group for a series of engravings
from the Acacus, those of Ti-n-Lalan.
They include, in particular, a scene of coupling (fig. 7 c). The woman is lying down with legs apart; the
details of her face, hair, and ornaments are rendered with precision. The man, himself, is drawn more summarily,
but bears the head of a jackal, with a vaguely humanized expression, here
again. His phallus is, as usual,
enlarged. Despite a relatively
naturalistic rendering, the composition cannot be attributed to the “Naturalistic
Bubaline” style. As far as technique is
concerned, it uses a fairly coarse pecking, not the polished or carefully
pecked technique of the “Naturalistic Bubaline.” Its patina is relatively light. One can hardly attribute this composition to
an already listed group. This seems quite
old, perhaps even pre-horse, and one would not know how the clarify its
attribution any better. However, the
elements of the composition are interesting: they are close enough to the
themes of the Ahana Rock in the Djerat (realistic depiction of coupling, large
phallus, etc.). But while scenes of
coupling are rare in the Mathendous, the mask is indeed that of a canid here,
typical of the Mathendous. Perhaps this
representation from Ti-n-Lalan must finally be related to the rare realistic
couplings that we reported in the “Naturalistic Bubaline” period of the Mathendous,
but where the symbolic aspect, instead of being expressed by masked men, is
transferred to the woman.
At Ti-n-Lalan, the scene with jackal mask is repeated in a
copy of mediocre style, nearby (Mori, 1965, fig. 41). But the latter replaces the jackal head with
a head similar to that of the “cats” of the Djerat and the Mathendous, even
adding their enormous phallus. Are the heads
of jackals and of cats then to be symbolically equated? Like the cat masks of the Mathendous, this
one has a light patina, thus [29]
probably is of recent age. Some other
masks of late age are also known, in the Acacus, with enormous phalli but
rabbit ears. Cat heads and rabbit heads,
and more generally all animal species expressed by the masks – are they
therefore equivalent as far as the function of the masks? We will return to this point.
VII.
Recent
periods: stage of the Libyan warrior, period of the horse, period of the camel
The inventory is much simpler for all the recent periods: it
is virtually impossible to note any definite representation of a masked figure
or theriomorph.
Not in the vast group of engravings of the stage of the
“Libyan warrior” which, in the first millennium BC then in its recent phases – which
continues up to today – covers the Air and the Hoggar and touches lightly on
the Djado. Nor in the group of the “Herders
of Ti-n-Anneuin,” in Northern Tassili, and contemporary with the beginning of
the Tassilian “period of the horse.” Not
in the latter – which includes paintings and engravings – nor in the groups of
chariots and horses that appear on its periphery, including as far as the
Saharan Atlas. Not in the many camelid
engravings and paintings of all regions (9).
The atmosphere has changed.
The warrior has replaced the herder everywhere; women disappear almost
completely from the compositions. The
symbolic world reflects – or imposes – these profound social transformations. The ancient masked figures and theriomorphs
are no longer valid. We will try to
understand the meaning of this change.
VIII.
Peripheral
countries
To better locate the masks and theriomorphs of the
depictions of the central Sahara, let us take a quick look at those represented
in the surrounding areas.
Toward the north and west, the “Naturalistic Bubaline” and
the Tazina school extend as far as southern Morocco and to the Rio de Oro. They are as devoid of masks and theriomorphs
as the Saharan Atlas. Toward the south,
the tradition of masks becomes scarce as soon as one passes beyond the
Tassili. In the valley of In-Djerane,
only some figures with heads “in a V” or with head ornaments that can hardly be
interpreted as masks can be pointed out.
In the southern Sahara and the Sahel (Air, Adrar of the Iforas,
Mauritania), the rock art groups, which are numerous and very rich – with tens
of thousands of engravings – only show representations from recent periods,
contemporary with the “stage of the Libyan warrior,” except for some rare
productions that are scarcely any older: none of these groups includes masks or
theriomorphs. To find them, one must
pass beyond the Bandiagara to Mali, but it is then a completely different world
which opens to us, the world of Black Africa.
Until the emergence of the empire of Ghana, or more or less to the
network of commercial centers, such as Jennejeno (Mali), which could have been
established a little earlier, the destiny of that part of Africa seems indeed
to remain completely independent of the Saharan world. A possible invasion of Saharan people toward
Ghana, around the “Arid post-Neolithic” (around 2500 BC), a thesis held by
Davies, has not left any trace in the rock art groups of the Sahara or of the
Sahel.
Europoid settlement continued in the Tassili-Hoggar-Air-Fezzan
group, from ethnic groups following the bubaline style and the Round Heads,
followed by those of the Iheren-Tahilahi style, to those of the “stage of the
Libyan warrior,” of the periods of the horse and camel. This settlement comprises ethnic groups that
are certainly varied, but all create rock art (even [30] the Round Heads, who are often claimed, wrongly, to be Negroid). This Europoid world ends, toward the east, at
Djado, and never penetrates the western Tibesti.
For the eastern Fezzan, Le Quellec made groups of engravings
known that were of quite summary design for the most part: some heads of
bizarre forms may be masks, some bear long ears (or feathers?), but the
identification is rarely certain. Three
masks in profile that may resemble a canid or a baboon are completely certain,
one of them with an enlarged phallus (1989, fig. 2, 10). The age of these engravings is imprecise, but
relatively recent, post-dating the “Naturalistic Bubaline” period (fig. 8 b).
A little farther south, among the engravings of the Djebel
ben Ghnema, some masks are noted: they comprise some groups that are quite
unique and stereotyped with small imps in acrobatic positions, or floating,
their arms bent behind their backs. The
draughtmanship is very rough, the represented species poorly distinguished:
equids? or canids? (fig. 7 d). Some are
provided with horns of various forms (in front, behind, diverging like the
horns of sheep, etc.), or large ears (Ziegert, 1967, Pl. 80, 90, 132, 137,
151). These floating figures, of small
size, are also known in one of the rare paintings of the Mathendous
(unpublished) and in the paintings of the Gilf Kebir (Rhotert, 1952, Pl. 30 and
31).
The Tibesti has seen other rock art sequences, of which some
schools are probably as old as the “Naturalistic Bubaline” style and that of the
Round heads. But very few masked figures
or theriomorphs are known that are as clear as those of the central Sahara. Usually, the “masks” noted in the literature
(e.g., Huard-Leclant, 1972, p. 21 – Beck-Huard, 1969, p. 165, 210, 212)
correspond to very worn representations, so that indecision occurs between
caricatures and true masks with symbolic intent. Some rare cases may be credited with this symbolic
intent, just the same: thus the dancers in pointed facial profile (with canid
heads?) from Mossei (Beck-Huard, 1969, p. 213).
We can hardly point out any representations of masks or
theriomorphs in the rock art groups of the Borkou or of the Ennedi, few of
which have been published. At Ouenat and
Gilf Kebir, extensively published bodies of art, the absence is also just as
complete (Rhotert, 1952, Pl. 32, shows one person with big ears, but we only
know it as “mentioned,” and uncertain).
At Dakhla and in the representations of Nubia, examples are
similarly very rare and, because of the summary nature of the engravings,
uncertain.
Neither Marmarica nor the Libyan Desert include any rock art
representations; Cyrenaica presents very few.
Tripolitania, richer, contains some old engravings and some belonging to
the “Naturalistic Bubaline” period. But
it yields neither masks nor theriomorphs any more than the rest of the Maghreb.
Finally, we add that if our survey is limited to rock art
representations, no Saharan archeological discovery of any era has yet
confirmed the existence or use of any element traceable to masks or
theriomorphs: we are absolutely reduced, in this chapter, to rock art
documentation.
IX.
Summary
We can now recap, situating spatially and temporally the
groups where there clearly existed the practice of representations of masked
figures or theriomorphs. We disregard
here those representations where we hesitate between caricature and symbolic
intent, and more generally, the groups [31]
or representations where animal heads only rarely are of that type. An isolated graffito of an animal head is,
still today, a banal, individual manifestation, that may derive from multiple
motivations. But science only focuses on
the usual and the only groups that interest us here are those where there
socially existed a symbolic tradition of this trait, obviously integrated into
the official culture of the ethnic group.
Seen in this light, the overall picture ultimately appears
very simple. Throughout Saharan rock
art, we only see such a symbolic tradition, socially structured, with human
representations bearing animal heads, in three groups and in a very specific
area:
·
The “Naturalistic Bubaline” group of North
Tassili (Djerat) and the Fezzan (Mathendous), to which we add, though in a
different style and a slightly later date, the representation of the jackal-man
of Ti-n-Lalan (Acacus);
·
the Round Heads (Tassili – Acacus);
·
the groups from Iheren-Tahilahi and incidentally
the group from Abaniora which is essentially contemporary.
The first two groups, the “Naturalistic Bubaline” and the Round
Heads, are loosely synchronous. Some
subgroups of Round Heads, however, were able to survive until the “final
Bovidian” of Iheren-Tahilahi and transmit to the group of that name the remains
of this tradition (Muzzolini, 1989).
Nevertheless, the Abaniora and Iheren-Tahilahi groups are
chronologically distinct from the first two and are located after the clearly
defined episode of the “Arid post-Neolithic,” which certainly fragmented the
Saharan populations.
All these groups are made up of non-Negroid
ethnicities. The group of Negroid types
of the “Old Bovidian” (the group from Sefar-Ozancaré) does not participate in the
tradition of masked figures and theriomorphs, any more than the Negroid or
not-clearly-Europoid groups of the Tibesti, of the Ennedi, of Nubia, or of
Ouenat. The scarcity of masks and theriomorphs
in the Hoggar, their absence in the Air, the Adrar of the Iforas, in
Mauritania, must be related to the fact that these areas contain few or no representations
from the ancient period.
In contrast, Tripolitania and the Saharan Atlas, including as far
as the Rio de Oro, contain an abundance of “bubaline” representations, from the
ancient period, and we are sure, from the identical nature of numerous
technical, stylistic and thematic traits, of their contemporaneity with those
of the Djerat and Mathendous. The
discrepancy between the two symbolic worlds is, however, obvious: in the north,
the cult of the ram, and total lack of “great gods,” horned goddesses, or masked
figures or theriomorphs; in the south, horned goddesses, masks and theriomorphs
in the “Bubalin” and in the contemporary Round Head paintings, the “great gods”
of the Round Heads, the total absence of “decorated rams” – and few rams, even
without ornament. Such differences must
be significant.
In summary, the picture that emerges is that of a symbolic
tradition of masked figures with animal heads and of theriomorphs,
circumscribed to the Tassili-Acacus-Fezzan area, in existence during the “Humid
Neolithic” (approx.. 4500-2500 BC), probably semi-interrupted during the “Arid
Post-Neolithic” (approx. 2500-1000 BC), and only a few remnants of which are found
at the beginning of the “Third Humid” period which follows, circa 1000 BC. Then the tradition is completely lost.
In this area, actually quite limited spatially and temporally, do a
few constants appear in the types of masks represented?
There are very few. We
first note a tendency to confer on these animal icons a few hints of their
underlying humanity – the overall expression of the face, a smile, the
compartmentalized headband – as well as feeling that they are there as signs of
their creator. [32] As for the species
represented, there is nothing like the rigorously structured, zoomorphic
pantheon of Egypt. At most, we can
recognize a certain generalization (less clear among the Round Heads) and a
continuation through the millennia of the mask with canid head. The mask with cat head also obtained a certain
vogue in the “bubaline” period: but it is bound to contexts termed “erotic,”
with enlarged phallus, of the Djerat, and much less frequently found
elsewhere. Both types sometimes occur
together (e.g., in the Mathendous, Graziosi, 1970, fig. 176). No scene of worship of such masked figures occurs. The impression prevails that all our
theriomorphs are indeed masked figures, perhaps reflecting some mythical being,
or a belief in the transformation of a man into an animal for some magical
purpose. Such a belief, well described
by Lewis-Williams for the shamans of the San, is common to many cultures.
What is astonishing, however, is the variety of masked figures,
humans that are simply “bestialized” with a silhouette of an indeterminable
animal, or only wearing horns, etc.: for us, since we do not know how to interpret
them, this is only an ideological wilderness in which no landmark emerges.
There is even a serious question for us: are we sure that these
masks have meaning? Bouchet (1965)
explains that, among the current masks of the Senufo of the Côte d’Ivoire, the
forms of masks, whether zoomorphic or human or indeed the graphic form they
represent – or rather, seem to represent, in the first sense – have no
importance. These forms do not convey
any meaning; they are not a privileged ideological support. Meaning is expressed in the ornamental
details, in the “accessories in secondary appearance,” known only to insiders. This explains the continual evolution of the
forms of these masks, and even their frequent abandonment as ritual objects. If it were the same with our bubaline and
Round Head masks, any attempt, such as ours, to rationally classify based on
the icons they represent, would be a futile enterprise. It could be, for example, that the meaning is
expressed by the presence or shape of the horns, the frequent independence of
which we noted in relation to the head of the animal depicted. Whether it is the canid mask, or that of the
cat or the hare, all may be indifferently represented, under the sole condition
that a certain detail of the face appears.
A more reassuring hypothesis would be that the less frequent masks
or the various animal attributes reflect local beliefs that are more varied
than those manifested by the “great gods” and the masked figures with a jackal
head. They could, for example, simply
indicate the Djenoun villagers, the equivalent of the cult of local saints in
Christianity.
The reader will understand that our discussion soon stops once we
enter the domain of interpretation of the meaning of masks and theriomorphs. Without a sacred text or oral tradition or
some correlation with contemporary religions – such as Egyptian religion – our interpretation
has only the vaguest ideological notions; or if it is precise, it contains too
much subjectivity. What also appear
subjective to us are attempts to “explain” the frescoes by analogies to the
beliefs of modern Fulani, which would require, among other incredible things,
an invariance in myth and its images for 5000 years (10). As for trying to find here the manifestations
of shamans and their states of trance, as Lewis-Williams does for the Bushman
frescoes, this would be practicing an ethnographic comparison with nothing to ensure
its validity.
Can we at least, regardless of the meaning, glimpse the function of
these masks and theriomorphs? Here
again, information proves to be meager.
We noted that many [33]
compositions with jackal mask from the Mathendous seemed related to hunting. At Sefar, on a wall with paintings essentially
of the Iheren-Tahilahi style, one notes several animated scenes of the hunt for
various antelopes. One man wears a zebra
mask, with the head of an animal that is hard to identify (11). He himself is also probably involved in a
hunting scene, and runs toward the prey (fig. 14). Could the mask, an explanation often
advanced, be a disguise to deceive the hunted animal? A more common method of hunters of the
Iheren-Tahilahi group to lure and approach the beast is to carry animal skins
on their backs, or to be followed by a sheep.
The hunts we note can only be symbolic, and the atmosphere of the
compositions of the Mathendous would speak rather in this sense. We can hardly overcome these many
uncertainties.
Other themes perhaps related to the function of the masks are the
frequent ithyphallism, enlarged phalli, and scenes of coupling. They appear even in groups, like those of the
“Bubaline” of the Mathendous, who seldom use these themes aside from their
appearance among the masked figures. The
compositions involving cat masks have a more priapic nature than those
involving jackal-men. But neither the
one nor the other seem capable of being reduced to “shepherd’s entertainment”
as has sometimes been claimed.
Ethnography offers many avenues of explanation: the representations may
attest to the sexual vigor of the authors, or have the effect of preserving it,
or of obtaining it, or they have a prophylactic goal, or they intend to ward
off sterility in women, etc. The scenes
of coupling may, more simply, recount a “sacred marriage” included in myth. There is no thread to guide our choice among
these various interpretations.
X.
Relations
with Egypt
Could this tradition of masks and theriomorphs, identified
in the Tassili-Acacus-Fezzan group during a period roughly contemporary with
the Predynastic period and Old Kingdom, with some survivals contemporary with
the New Kingdom, have something to do with the many animal-headed gods of the
Egyptian pantheon? These already appear
in the Old Kingdom in their basic form, and certainly have their roots in the
Predynastic period.
But although the dates do not prevent contact between the
two traditions, Saharan and Nilotic, one must note the complete absence, in
archeological excavations and also in the rock art, of any unambiguous trace of
contacts or of cultural influences between Egypt and the central Sahara. Some traits are obviously common to the two
regions. But without demonstration, by
chronologically intermediate transmission, they can be analyzed equally well as
due to accidental convergence, or as the results of parallel evolution starting
from a common ancient basis. For
example, the beautiful workmanship of the Tenereen flints, often close to that
of the Predynastic period. Or the horned
goddesses of the Round Heads, such as the White Lady, which obviously evoke the
Egyptian Hathor, as well as the Asiatic Ishtar.
The absence of intermediaries and the isolated character of these common
traits only constitute negative findings, of course, but their general nature is
striking in an area as vast as the central Sahara and the Maghreb, and in all periods
as far back as the proto-historic age, and we believe it confers value to these
negatives. It seems surprising, if there
was contact, even indirect, that there should not be found somewhere in the
Sahara, the Sahel, the Maghreb, some unambiguously Egyptian objects, attesting
to these contacts: some scarabs, some [34]
typical vases, some ushabtis, such as are found in Southwest Asia, the Sudan,
Crete, Cyprus, Anatolia, and Andalusia. Objects,
elements of architecture, and bas-reliefs testifying to an Egyptian presence or
influence are found as far as Kharga and Dakhla. But when one plunges into the desert, at Abu
Ballas, 200 kilometers to the southwest, some jars and a very awkward engraving
though still respecting the Nilotic canons, are the only evidence of Egyptian
influence. Another 400 km and, at Gilf
Kebir or Ouenat, two mountain chains that were important centers of pastoral
life in the second and first millennia BC, contemporary with pharaonic Egypt, a
very rich rock art documentation is noted, but nothing, absolutely nothing,
evokes an Egyptianizing or Egyptian cultural object or trait. It is the same in the Ennedi, Borkou,
Tibesti, Fezzan, Cyrenaica, and Tripolitania.
It was not until the middle of the first millennium BC – that is to say,
after the founding of Carthage and Cyrene, with the early pharaonic expeditions
in Cyrenaica, the establishment of an extensive network of relationships across
the Mediterranean Sea, the early Punic navigations in the western Mediterranean
and on the Atlantic coasts – that elements foreign to the central Sahara occur,
deriving from the Mediterranean coasts: the horse, chariot, writing, use of the
spear, shield and sword, the first metal objects, even the camel.
Nevertheless, some authors have argued for the existence of
contacts with Egypt or of influences from there. Lhote, (including 1958), first advanced this
thesis and published images of Tassili rock art with a strong pharaonic air: an
“offering scene,” and especially his four “goddesses with bird heads,” which
continue to appear episodically in the literature, and even in recent works. In the second edition of his work (1973, p.
235), Lhote remains very ambivalent: he explicitly returns to these statements,
but without absolutely rejecting any influence, and publishes these scenes
again with the same captions and comments, linking them to an “Egyptian
influence (18th dynasty?)” : the doubt concerns the date, not the
fact. He does not say – probably he was
still unaware – that everyone has now realized that these “goddesses with bird
heads” and the “offering scene” are fakes.
The winters were long on the Tassilian plateau, for the art students
from Montparnasse whom he had brought, in 1956, charged with carrying out the
“recording” of the frescoes. And people amuse
themselves, at times, as they can. The fun,
this time, went a little too far (12).
More seriously, Huard has also, in his many writings,
supported the thesis of contacts between the Nile and the central Sahara,
thanks to which he explains the diffusion of many cultural traits identified in
the two areas. He thus affirms “the
uniqueness of the Culture of the Hunters,” the latter being formed of such
cultural traits “distributed throughout the subcontinent” (Allard-Huard, 1981,
p. 64). Other writings argue that there
would only be an “archaic substrate” common to the two areas: their evolution eventually
would have diverged. The second position
seems much more acceptable and we will support it in our final attempt at the
interpretation of the masks. But it
seems to us inconsistent with the first.
And it is hard to reconcile, especially with other writings by Huard,
where these archaic traits, instead of being only cultural elements common to many specific later groups, are
described as those of one group, itself specific and structured, the “Hunters.”
The latter are in fact sometimes advanced (e.g.
Huard-Allard, 1977, p 659 or 1981, p. 64) as being a particular group, occupying
a specific site, from a particular place, as [35] with real historical groups: indeed, one seems to speak in
this case of an ethnic group, not a concept.
We confess that we do not understand the mixture of such diverse statements,
which seem incompatible to us.
In any case, the cultural traits in question only constitute
characteristics that are either trivial, and therefore may only reflect
accidental convergences, or very vague, sufficing to justify – or at least to
illustrate – the hypothesis of a former basis that was common to particular subsequent
groups, carriers of these traits, but insufficient to support the thesis of
real contacts between Egypt and central Sahara in recent millennia.
It therefore appears unlikely to us, ultimately, that the
tradition of masked figures and theriomorphs of the central Sahara, in the
period of the “Naturalistic Bubaline” and the Round Heads, reflects some
contact with predynastic Egypt and the Old Kingdom. It also appears unlikely that the masks of
the Iheren-Tahilahi group, in the latest period, have anything to do with
Egypt: they are explained much more normally as remnants of the tradition of
the previous era, preserved only among the Europoid populations of the central
Sahara (13).
XI.
Attempt
at interpretation
The description of Saharan masks and theriomorphs and their
application in the general Saharan and African frameworks stops here: beyond,
the field of speculation opens up.
It is necessary.
Simply “objective” analysis, even that of the New Archaeology, which
only aims to quantify the archaeological record, only reaches the obvious,
measurable surface of the evolution of societies: their material culture, their
economic and environmental adaptations.
Now we aim to reach the heart, that which is actually the basis of the
identity of the groups. But how? Conscious of the dangers of empiricism and of
subjectivism, we try all the same to get somewhat beyond mere observed facts
and at least integrate them into a story, the most fundamental in all human
societies, that of the ideologies, beliefs, and symbolic structures that
generally reflect social structures.
This story is part of the level that F. Braudel called the “long
term.” Unfortunately, it hardly leaves
any easily quantifiable material traces.
We propose to read the meaning of the Saharan masks and
theriomorphs following two scales corresponding to areas of differing
magnitude, during two different durations: first, the central Sahara only (to
be understood, in this section, as reduced to the Tassili-Acacus-Mathendous)
during the late Holocene; then the whole of North Africa throughout the
Holocene and the end of the Pleistocene.
On the scale, first, of just the central Sahara in recent
millennia, the Saharan masks and theriomorphs do not confirm the existence of a
religion of or belief in an “animal-god” with the head of a jackal or cat. These heads are not even “attributes”
symbolizing a deity: that, if it exists as such – a “great god,” a horned
“goddess,” a bull or ram – is represented independently. The difference here is essential, with the
status of the zoomorphic gods of Egypt, or that of the panther-goddess of Çatal
Hüyük,
true deities (Cauvin, 1981, p. 26). Nevertheless,
these masks and theriomorphs are symbolic elements that fit into a larger
symbolic universe, specific to the same places and the same artistic groups:
the “Naturalistic Bubaline” and the Round Heads. Although ethnically diverse, these groups [36] both correspond to Europoid ethnicities. They constitute, in the central Sahara, the
only rock art groups – and, more generally, the only archeological facts – that
allow us to understand a spiritual dimension, a little confusing for us, and difficult
to interpret with the present evidence.
The latter term – spiritual dimension – comes, of course,
from the culture of the present author, and it would be presumptuous to think
that the representations had the same meaning in the “Bubaline” culture or in that
of the Round Heads, or even to believe that they denoted some concept of the
same nature: the distinction between mind and matter, if familiar to us, is not
as clear for all cultures. By the term
“spiritual,” we only mean that besides scenes of material cultural, perceived
as such in all cultures at least in the primary sense (regardless of a possible
secondary, symbolic meaning) – e.g., pastoral scenes, scenes of everyday, a
battle, a hunt – there also appear scenes in which it is clear that the meaning
is uniquely or eminently symbolic. A
meaning “hidden” to us, but present, and not reducible to the preceding scenes:
the “great gods” with unusual attributes, the “worshippers” – an attitude not
typical in “ordinary” life – men and women with horns, “decorated” rams (the
latter only in the Maghreb), persons floating in space, animals struck by a
mysterious spiral or bearing a “disk” between the horns, scenes reflecting a
special status for the bull, etc. This
“spiritual” cultural trait is thus defined as very frequent among the Round
Heads, and just frequent in the “Naturalistic Bubaline.” One barely perceives it later in the equally
Europoid group of Iheren-Tahilahi, where only a few masks show it. Then it disappears completely in the later
Europoid groups, contemporaries of the period of the horse. One very modern word summarizes this cultural
process: the secularization of society.
Insofar as these various Europoid groups are, in the same place, and
despite the vicissitudes of weather, structured by related ideological systems
– this is the hypothesis that we advance – we find that in their symbolic
universe the “great gods” and the horned goddesses disappear, and the rock art
repertoire focuses mainly, first, on pastoral scenes, then, from the Tassilian
period of the horse, of the “Herders of Ti-n-Anneuin” and of the stage of the
“Libyan warrior,” in the scenes glorifying the warrior, or the chieftain, or
the prestigious individual with some title – the charioteer, for example. The evolution is from the collective to the
individual, from the era of ideological institutions to those of chiefdoms and
“entrepreneurs,” as modern sociology terms them. Our “interpretation” – a pretentious word –
would not know, without knowledge of the various symbolic codes that informed
the groups involved, how to go beyond these very vague notations.
Let us now take a backward glance, expanding our view
through time and space. Bits of the
symbolic universe of the central Sahara and Maghreb, that we perceive from the
“Humid Neolithic,” around 4000 BC, strike us with a family likeness that they
appear to share with similar traits from Egypt, and also, somewhat, from
Southwest Asia. There are, for example,
the masks and theriomorphs, the “great gods” with animal tails, the horned
“goddesses,” the decorated rams preceded by an officiant, “floating” figures that
appear among the Round Heads and that we have found among the masked figures,
but which are also found in Egyptian astrological compositions such as the syringe of Set I (Yoyotte, 1968, p.
150), etc. Some of these features are
also found in Black Africa. Conversely,
they are hardly found at all in the art of the Spanish Levant, in the [37] Italian Bronze Age, the depictions
of Val Camonica, Cretan or Mycenaean art, Geometric Greek art, etc. We term “Africanitude” [or “Africanness”] the
common character that they define: the term is deliberately vague, but suffices
to distinguish this character from that of the Indo-European world, on the
other side of the Mediterranean. They
were already past zoomorphism, a “primitive” stage of many religions, with
purely anthropomorphic deities, relegating zoomorphic beings to a lesser rank,
that of “demons,” griffons, sphinx, etc.
We have explained that specific contacts between Egypt and
the central Sahara are very unlikely in the middle and late Holocene. This statement has no objection to one of the
theses that has emerged in the works of Leclant, Huard and Allard-Huard, that
of an archaic substrate, a “common, paleo-African complex,” as referred to by
Leclant (1990) in his inaugural article of the first issue of this journal,
where he clearly articulates this thesis.
From this very ancient substrate, during the millennia of the “West
Neolithic,” only traces persist – such as our masks and theriomorphs – of
archaic elements, in the form of cultural traits, homologous therefore, and not
just homologous, but which had time to differentiate themselves in the various
cultures. So much so that we now have some
difficulty recognizing the original identify of these traits. Their formal similarities are now reduced to
a vague family resemblance, “Africanitude” [or “Africanness”]. The process of their differentiation is the
same as for the words of an original language: the latter change, in each of
the daughter languages, they diverge and, over time, no longer present anything
similar but a few roots that are difficult to recognize.
This comparison with language is not a coincidence. It could be that language and artistic
expression are here two symbolic systems reflecting one parallel cultural
evolution from a distant original “Africanitude” [or “Africanness”]: that of
the Afro-Asiatic linguistic group. This
common linguistic “Africanness” is now perceived by linguists from very ancient
dates. From 15,000 BC, that is to say, it
is from the terminal Pleistocene, that the initial location is postulated – the
“homeland” – of the Afro-asiatics, and it would not lie in the Fertile
Crescent, as we once thought due to intellectual conformism as well as because
we were impregnated with the Biblical tradition, but somewhere in Nubia or the
eastern Sahara (Ehret, 1979, p. 163 – 1984, p. 27 – Jungraithmayr, 1989, p.
157). Glossochronology has even allowed
the dating, though very approximately, of some Afro-Asiatic cultural vocabularies
that would push the dating backward in time of the domestication of animals in
Africa to dates at least as old as those of the Middle East, and that
domestication would have begun in the eastern Sahara.
This major event could not remain without effect on the
social and symbolic structures (Cauvin, 1987).
Subsequently, a contraction of linguistic domains, presumably caused by
the “Arid Post-Neolithic,” rejected Afro-Asiatic Saharan components toward the
south and east (Jungraithmayr, 1989).
The Semitic branch would only be one branch among the most recent in
this bloc; it would have resulted from a centrifugal movement, which could
explain some cultural similarities between Northeast Africa and Southwest Asia. If we agree to link anthropological entities,
linguistic entities and cultural entities – such as the iconic expressions of
ideology, for example masks and theriomorphs – and especially if we accept this
reversal of traditional conceptual schemes “ex
Oriente,” linguists provide us a good model to explain our artistic
components. First collected into a
common archaic substrate, they would [37]
have diverged when populations were fragmented by climate change, and are
found, later, in some concrete groups, reduced to a few bits that are still
vaguely similar. This is speculation, of
course, that the hypothesis of parallel evolution, very old, of linguistic and
cultural phenomena, a process that history often belies. But let us keep it in mind, possibly to be
supported by documents to come: it would make us well aware of this substrate
of “Africanness” common to Egypt and the central Sahara, that we expect to find
in both art and language, two fundamental symbolic systems structuring all
society.
Alfred
Muzzolini
7
rue J. de Rességuier, 31000 Toulouse et
Laboratoire
d’Archéozoologie, 07460
St.-André-de-Cruzières
All
photographs in this article are by the author.
NOTES
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