New Masks, New Meanings: Covid Perspectives on African Art History: Part 2: Coups, Pandemics, and Careers in African Art History

Abstract

As I write this First Word from Burkina Faso, where I am researching masquerade, unpredictability is on my mind. Full-bodied, animated masks here are inherently capricious—one never knows what they might do. Perform a few dance steps? Threaten someone? Ham it up for the crowd? Make indecent gestures? Pass by? Masks’ mercurial behavior unsettles our sense of stability (Fig. 2). The feasibility of conducting research abroad is equally unpredictable. COVID-19 has prevented many of us from going about business as usual, including traveling abroad. The virus poses health hazards and individuals risk harm to themselves (through infection) and others (via spread and further mutation of the virus) when they travel and engage in social activities. Eventually, vaccines, boosters, treatments, testing, face coverings (“masks”), physical distancing, improved air filtration and ventilation, and other measures have for many of us promoted a sense of safety in congregate settings—and yet the virus is still circulating and mutating among human populations.1 When the next variant will take hold and what its characteristics will be are uncertain. We might view this as a security issue, as we have seen with numerous border closures throughout the pandemic.The United States has recently moved away from public health and government authorities providing mandates to mitigate COVID-19 transmission and towards a reliance on individual risk assessment based on individual and community factors as well as individual risk tolerance. This has resulted in a spectrum of options: some people have prioritized avoiding exposure to the virus, while others go about day-to-day life without mitigation measures, and still others have opted to make up for lost time circulating and socializing. One might expect well-informed guidance to be pivotal to decision making on these fronts. But as we have seen throughout the pandemic in the United States, we don't all share the same information or trust the same sources. We cannot even agree on what is fact and what is fiction. As new information or new security issues (e.g., a novel virus, or a coup d’état) come to light, we comprehend different variables, weigh different considerations, and form diverse perspectives on what is safe and what is tolerable.In this era of heightened individualism in relation to security and health risks, there is no one size fits all option. Scholars have a variety of perspectives on the feasibility of conducting research in unpredictable settings. As with calculating COVID-19 risk, each individual must determine their own limits. Security risks are not new to scholars whose research requires travel abroad, particularly to places where we are foreign and so might not: have a reliable home base, be intimately familiar with the layout of the destination, speak all relevant languages with fluency, have a far-reaching network of people on whom we can rely, be perceived as belonging, or at a bare minimum be able to blend in—a sense of precarity is intrinsic to doing the work. But the likelihood of being unsafe presents a more serious problem. Hence widespread reluctance to travel during at least the beginning of the pandemic.Issues such as terror attacks or coups d’état can also be strong disincentives, if not outright obstacles, to one's ability to cross international borders.2 Like masks, such volatility is not wholly predictable (Fig. 3). We might perceive when conflict and unrest are possible, even probable, but how a situation actually unfolds cannot necessarily be anticipated. Burkina Faso, for example, has recently been burdened with such concerns. When I began conducting research here in 2006, I chose the country for its rich art forms and practices as well as its long record of stability. However, that changed in 2014 when mass demonstrations against then President Blaise Compaoré's efforts to extend his twenty-seven-year rule forced him to resign and flee the country. In 2015, members of the former president's security corps attempted a coup against the transitional government, but failed. A few weeks later, democratically elected President Roch Marc Kaboré was sworn in. At the same time, border insecurity and terror attacks became increasingly common. The results have been disastrous (deaths, internal displacement, kidnapping, food insecurity, school closures, widespread instability, etc.).3 In January 2022, democratically reelected President Kaboré was overthrown in a military coup, ostensibly due to his inability to stop the terror attacks. A transitional government was installed shortly thereafter.What are scholars in such a situation to do? How do we make informed decisions that keep us safe and on track careerwise, when there are so many social and geopolitical factors beyond our control? How do we justify the time and effort it takes to prepare for such an endeavor when a necessary research trip falls through? How do we compensate when a perilous situation may not resolve anytime soon? These are just some of the questions that I and many of my Africanist colleagues have wrestled with over the years, from graduate students to senior scholars. And while these issues undeniably pale in comparison to those of people living through such crisis situations, the recent pandemic has highlighted that many people's livelihoods depend on research-related activities.Unfortunately, research trips to sites of political unrest, social animosity, or in the midst of a global pandemic, are not always possible or wise. Individuals make their own decisions about the viability of conducting research in a given locale, but often within the constraints of their affiliated institutions which can refuse permission. Many scholars with established networks in the regions of their research interest have not been able to return to those locations due to safety concerns. They have been obligated to rearrange their research agendas, sometimes drastically. As with masquerade, one's positionality also bears on decision making. Social mores can be a threat. I am familiar with scholars who have not physically returned to a research area (or whose research opportunities are diminished) due to antagonism towards their sexual orientation and/or marital status. Having a community of friends and colleagues might promote flexibility and nimbleness in responding to unpredictable situations, but it does not guarantee safety for the researcher or their associates.In the immediate aftermath of the coup d’état, I delayed going to Burkina Faso. Based on news reports and conversations with associates in the country, I soon reasoned that the situation was fairly stable. The constitution had been reinstated and the curfew lifted, there were no additional politically motivated arrests, large-scale protests, or attacks, and my friends and colleagues were going about life as usual. I concluded that it was not significantly more dangerous for me to travel to Bobo-Dioulasso than it was during my most recent trip in 2018.4That decision was also informed by a reality that many of us have observed during the pandemic: some interactions need to be face-to-face to have full value. A virtual hug is not a hug. In the case of my research on masquerade arts and performances, engaging directly with masquerade communities is vital. The resulting performances, responses, conversations, information, and exchanges are not otherwise readily available. Video calls, social media posts, and newspaper accounts produce cursory material at best.5 Doing the work of being present to actively learn from and share experiences with interlocutors at the same time and in the same space also creates social connection and affirms my commitment to those masquerade communities in ways that colleagues in the region have expressed are meaningful. In my experience, it also increases the prospect of open doors in the future, but that too is unpredictable.