Barbaro Martinez-Ruiz - Kongo Graphic Writing and Other Narratives of The Sign (2013, Temple University Press)

Kongo Graphic Writing
and Other Narratives

of the Sign
of the Sign Bárbaro Martínez-Ruiz
Temple University Press Philadelphia

TEMPLE UNIVERSITY PRESS
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19122
www.temple.edu/tempress
Copyright © 2013 by Temple University

All rights reserved
Published 2013
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Martínez-Ruiz, Bárbaro.
Kongo graphic writing and other narratives of the sign / Bárbaro Martínez-Ruiz.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-1-4399-0816-7 (cloth : alk. paper) — ISBN 978-1-4399-0818-1 (e-book)
1. Kongo language—Writing. 2. Picture-writing—Africa, Central. 3. Picture-writing—
Cuba. 4. Written communication—Social aspects—Africa, Central. 5. Written
communication—Social aspects—Cuba. 6. Symbolism in communication—Africa,
Central. 7. Symbolism in communication—Cuba. 8. Kongo (African people) —
History. 9. Kongo (African people) —Religion. I. Title.
PL8401.M27 2013
496.393111—dc23
2012025888
The paper used in this publication meets the requirements of the American
National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed
Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1992
Printed in the United States of America
2 4 6 8 9 7 5 3 1
Contents
Acknowledgments vii
1 Introduction 1
Existing LIterature 4
Methodology 12
2 The Atlantic Passage: The Spread of Kongo Belief

in Africa and to the Americas 15
3 The Process of Meaning Making: The Kongo Universe 29

Kongo Cosmogony: Nza Kôngo 30
Kongo Cosmogony: Nza Cuba 38
4 Afro-Atlantic Graphic Writing: Bidimbu,

Bisinsu, and Firmas 47
Kongo Graphic Writing Systems: Overview of Character
and Origins 47
Ancient Memory: Rupestrian Art in Central Africa 50
Writing to Preserve: Bidimbu and Bisinsu 88
Writing to Remember: Firmas 119
5 Beyond the Scripture: Physical Forms

of Graphic Writing 149
Minkisi and Prendas: Written Objects 149
Mambo: Writing Out Loud 183
6 Conclusion 191
Notes 193
Bibliography 211
Index 221
Acknowledgments
No project of this scale is possible without the support of an incredible

number of people, including friends, mentors, colleagues, and family. Such
support has enabled me to research Kongo graphic expression as a form of
communication in Africa and across the Atlantic, and then to bring this en-
deavor to completion in the form of this book.
My scholarly journey has been made possible in large part by gener-
ous benefactors who enabled me to conduct repeated research trips to cen-
tral Africa, beginning with funding by Yale University during my graduate
studies from 1998 to 2004. I am particularly appreciative of the support
provided at Yale by the Lindsay Fellowship for Research in Africa and the
Andrew W. Mellon Foundation Summer Grant and at Stanford University
by the OTL Research Incentive Award, the Hewlett Faculty Grant, and
the generous Hellman Faculty Scholar grant. I am also indebted to Stan-
ford University for the annual faculty research grants, the James and Doris
McNamara Faculty Fund in the Department of Art and Art History, and
the travel grant of the Center for Latin American Studies.
I wish to thank my mentor, Robert Farris Thompson, Colonel John
Trumbull Professor of the History of Art at Yale University, who believed
in my work from the beginning and has provided me with a strong founda-
tion through his exemplary methodology and ethical approach to the disci-
pline of African art history. I am also deeply grateful to other colleagues in
the field of African art, including C. Daniel Dawson, Henry Drewal, Man-
uel Jordan, and Allen Roberts, for their patience and advice, as well as for
their devotion to my work and valuable comments on drafts of this book as
it was being written.
I am grateful to several talented individuals for assisting me with my
work in situ in Angola and for my education in Kikongo, Mandombe, and
the principles of the Kongo tradition known as Ma Kisi Nsi. These include
Nsenga Alabertina, Alvaro Barbosa, Paulino Dulandula, Pedro Kabungu,
Francisco Lusolo, Catholic priest Francisco Ntanda, the late Ntinu Nzaku
Nevunda, Pedro Nicolas as keeper of the Mbanza Kongo museum, Pedro
Lopes, Pedro Raul, Joan Paulino Polar, Mayifwila Rafael Rivals, Pedro
Savão, Alfonso Seke, and Alvaro Tiundula. Two individuals deserve spe-
cial recognition: Matondo Ngo Blais, the first pillar of my research in 1999
during his tenure as director of the Mbanza Kongo museum, and, more
vii
viii Acknowledgments
recently, Marcel Biluka, director of culture in the Zaire province of Angola.

The support of Angolan institutions and government agencies—such as the
Ministry of Culture, Cultural Patrimony, the National Historical Archive,
and two governors of Zaire province, Ludi Kissassunda and Pedro Sebas-
tião—has also been important. My foster family in Angola, Guerra Marques,
deserves special thanks, particularly the late Valério Guerra Marques, Irene
Guerra Marques, Ana Clara Guerra Marques, Susanna Rodrigues Guerra
Marques, and Gentil Traça. I am also deeply indebted to Antonio Arrocha
and Jose Borges for providing both a home and an intellectual sounding
board over the course of more than a decade of travel in Angola.
For my work on Kongo traditions in Cuba, two practitioners of the
Palo Monte religion and experts on its practices, Osvaldo Fresneda Bachil-
ler and Felipe Garcia Villamil, have been invaluable, and I consider myself
forever in their debt.
Finally, I must acknowledge the unfailing support, moral backup, and
encouragement of my wife, Beth Hooton Ruiz, for putting up with my ex-
tended fieldwork, which has not been without its dangers.
Bárbaro Martínez-Ruiz
of the Sign
C H A P T E R 1
Introduction
Kongo Graphic Writing is a study of structured visual expression among the

Bakongo people in Central Africa and their descendants in Cuba. The book
is built around the central argument that multiple, varied communication
tools, including written symbols, religious objects, oral traditions, and body
language, have consistently been integrated by the Bakongo into structured
systems of graphic writing. These systems are used to organize daily life,
enable interactions between humans and the natural and spiritual worlds,
and preserve and transmit cosmological and cosmogonical belief systems.
The systematic modes of graphic expression documented among the
Bakongo over the past few centuries represent the culmination of multiple
advancements in communication. The first step in this development chain
was the initial use of visual signs as code, a step made possible by a concep-
tual leap that allowed the attribution of culturally relevant meaning to a set
of abstract and pictographic representations. The early signs and symbols
were modeled in distinct geometric, pictographic form and were later as-
signed more nuanced contextual meanings when used for specific functions,
thus becoming the primary source for the gradual establishment of a Kongo
graphic repertoire and the subsequent development of a mechanism for flu-
ent visual narrative. Although the timeline of and driving forces behind the
development from an initial inventory of signs to today’s complex graphic
writing systems may never be fully known, the ancient iconic carvings and
paintings documented at numerous sites in the forests and savanna of Cen-
tral Africa suggest both a long history and a central role for graphic writing
in the cultural and social organization of the Bantu settlers, and the tradi-
tion’s survival and adaptability in the face of historical, sociopolitical, and
cultural challenges speak to its strength and importance.
Given their central role in developing, documenting, preserving, and
transmitting the core beliefs, values, and traditions of people, understand-
ing the development and use of graphic writing systems offers insights into
Kongo religious structures, traditional knowledge, pharmacopeias, and ver-
bal and oral histories. More specifically, as a vehicle for historical analysis,
graphic writing systems permit us to recognize and trace the very foun-
dation of Kongo culture. With this as our ultimate goal, in the following
chapters we will explore the cosmology, cosmogony, and moral philoso-
phy that have informed the use and meaning of graphic writing among the
1
2 K o n g o G r a p h i c Wr i t i n g a n d O t h e r N a r r a t i v e s o f t h e S i g n
Bakongo over time and will explore in detail the traditions that shape the
systematic use of this system. We will see that these traditions demonstrate
an undeniable continuity between contemporary graphic writing systems
used in Central Africa and those used in Cuba and between these systems
and millennia-old rupestrian art found in Angola and the Democratic Re-
public of the Congo. The Bakongo examine the powerful and central role
that graphic communication has played in transmitting cultural knowledge,
values, and beliefs from generation to generation, thus preserving cultural,
social, and spiritual identity throughout periods of extreme disruption.
In Chapter 2, “The Atlantic Passage: The Spread of Kongo Belief in
Africa and to the Americas,” we provide the basic historical context for the
development of Kongo graphic writing systems. A brief description of the
physical and cultural history of the Bakongo is offered, with a focus on the
population movements and conditions that led to the formation and sur-
vival of Kongo cultural practices and beliefs and their evolution over time
and through periods of upheaval, such as colonialism and independence,
the slave trade, and emancipation.
In Chapter 3, “The Process of Meaning Making: The Kongo Universe,”
we introduce the basic cosmology that underlies Kongo culture. Here we
discuss the religious context within which the Bakongo and their descen-
dants live and investigate the manner in which they contextualize and inter-
pret the world around them. Weaving together strands of past and present
beliefs in Central Africa and Cuba and demonstrating the intertwined his-
tories and parallel development of these two cultures, we discuss Kongo
myths of origin, the spiritual role accorded the ancestors, the powers at-
tributed to and characteristics of natural and cosmic forces, and the cho-
reographed interactions between man and God at all stages of the life cycle.
In Chapter 4, “Afro-Atlantic Graphic Writing: Bidimbu, Bisinsu, and
Firmas,” we examine the ways in which the cosmological and cosmogon-
ical underpinnings explored in Chapter 3 both inform and are expressed
by two-dimensional components of graphic writing systems. Known as bi-
dimbu or bisinsu in Central Africa and firmas in Cuba, the written symbols
used by the Bakongo function foremost as a means by which to record reli-
gious exegesis, guide and shape religious praxis, and embody spiritual and
cultural principles. They provide community members a means by which
to understand and engage the world and to communicate with one an-
other and with ancestral and spiritual forces. Beginning with ancient rupes-
trian art (some known, some never previously documented), in this chapter
we trace the development of graphic writing in Central Africa, its involun-
tary transplantation to the new world, and the ongoing role it plays in Ba-
kongo and Bakongo-descended religion and culture on both sides of the
Atlantic. Rich with multilayered meanings and used for lay purposes (such
as conveying messages between hunters and demarcating productive agri-
cultural sites) as well as religious ones in Central Africa, graphic writing in
Cuba disappeared from the secular world while flourishing in the sacred
realm and became what is today an exceedingly complex and fiercely pro-
Introduction 3
tected language that requires many years for mastery. In addition to tracing
the development of graphic writing forms and exploring the range of their
uses, in Chapter 4 we delve deeply into the meanings embedded in such
forms and details as the manner in which the belief systems set forth in the
fi rst chapter are integrated into and expressed through the numerous exam-
ples provided.
In Chapter 5, “Beyond the Scripture: Physical Forms of Graphic Writ-
ing,” we look beyond conventional understandings of writing to explore
the roles played by physical objects and oral traditions. We argue that these
multi- and nondimensional modes of communication, by overlapping and
reexpressing the beliefs and meanings conveyed by written symbols, allow
the practitioners to both know and communicate their cultural and individ-
ual identities. We explore the concurrent diversity and constancy evidenced
in minkisi, or prendas in Cuba—sacred objects built to contain spiritual
forces and command their attendant powers—as well as the mambos and
other ritual words used to activate and engage these spirits and transmit
cultural and religious teachings. We examine numerous examples of these
objects—some in contemporary usage—with their various physical features,
construction materials, and other visual elements “read” to illustrate the in-
tentional precision and richness of meaning conveyed through their design.
While continuing to trace the close connections between the forms mani-
fest in Central Africa and those in Cuba, in Chapter 5 we also argue that
it is this integration of a full range of visual and oral communicative tech-
niques that both defi nes and is made possible by graphic writing systems.
This book grows out of several decades of involvement in Kongo-based
graphic writing systems. My earliest work on the topic was personal. Grow-
ing up inside the Afro-Cuban Palo Monte religion, I attempted to organize
the meanings and uses of the signs and symbols I learned during my early
religious education. Learning how to use graphic forms is a fundamental
requirement for all members of the religion. One’s level of proficiency is
related to the hierarchy within the religion. It is assumed that a higher level
requires more knowledge and fluency in the use of graphic communication.
In the early 1970s I created a notebook with a growing graphic vocabulary
that helped me practice and teach other members of the religion how to
create basic meanings using written signs. I learned that the graphic writ-
ing used by Palo Monte priests (paleros) involves more than just symbols
and includes a variety of signs and actions that are systematically organized
into a coherent process of signifying. I soon sought to expand my under-
standing of this process beyond its uses within the borders of Cuban cul-
ture. My curiosity raised many questions, such as how a tradition based
in African beliefs and practices came to occupy a prominent place in the
religious mosaic of Cuba. What specific historical and cultural conditions
existed to allow this process to develop and survive in Cuba? What role did
graphic communication play within the colonial setting and for the people
oppressed by that system? Would it be possible to trace the African sources
present within contemporary Cuban graphic writing and to understand the
process that led from one to the other? Spending two years, from 1986 to
1988, in Angola with the Cuban army gave me an opportunity to witness
practices and hear about beliefs not dissimilar to those with which I was
raised and further piqued my interest in gaining a fuller understanding of
the connections between the traditions practiced continents apart.
When I returned to Cuba from Angola in 1988, I began to study art
history at Havana University. As part of my early coursework, I read a chap-
ter from Robert Farris Thompson’s Flash of the Spirit, published four years
earlier. I immediately recognized the chapter’s importance for my future
research interest. I found the chapter “The Sign of the Four Moments of the
Sun: Kongo Art and Religion in the Americas” to be a brilliant unification
of the Kongo graphic writing tradition in Cuba with its counterpart in Cen-
tral Africa. I read the chapter many times during the next few weeks, feeling
that this was what I wanted to do—it was an essay I wished I had written.
I still do. Its comparison across primary sources and close visual analysis of
the process of making meaning in both Central Africa and the Caribbean
resonated deeply with material from my studies and from my own personal
experiences in Afro-Cuban religion. It made me view such experiences in a
new way. This fi rst encounter with Thompson’s work—exemplified by this
chapter that achieves a successful balance of interpretative insight and theo-
retical sophistication, deeply rooted in Kongo material culture—has come
back to me frequently over the years as I have deepened my studies, con-
ducted my own research, and developed classes for new students of the sub-
ject. Thompson’s scholarship remains a cornerstone of the literature across
those fields in which he is a pioneer, and his work, as well as the training I
received from him as my doctoral adviser, continues to inspire and inform
my own work, including this book, which attempts, among other goals, to
answer my own early questions about my religious upbringing.
eXiSting LiteratUre
As we will explore in detail in subsequent chapters of this book, graphic
writing among the Kongo is not an imitation of speech and its meaning is
not phonocentric, that is, dependent on interpretation of specific sounds. It
is a system of communication that is not derived from, but that interfaces
with, multiple forms of meaning notation, including symbols, pictographs,
ideograms, morphemograms, and logographs, as well as more complex
three-dimensional figures, gestures, and actions. A classic example of the
adage that a sum is greater than its parts, Kongo graphic writing is best
understood systemically rather than through a cataloging of the meanings
underlying distinct, alphabetic signs. Integrating belief systems with cosmo-
gonical structure, Kongo graphic writing serves a recording, storytelling,
and constructive role and goes far beyond picture theory, in which specific
symbols or images serve as direct representation of concepts and speakable
meanings. Theories based on linguistic paradigms rooted in Western tradi-
tions will not lead to an understanding of Kongo graphic writing systems;
Introduction 5
nor will they assist in the examination of the continuity between such writ-
ing systems in Central Africa and the Kongo diaspora.
Given the breadth of usage meaning and form of graphic writing sys-
tems among the Bakongo, multiple and diverse strands of scholarship con-
tribute to our understanding. However, little academic work exists that
examines forms of graphic communication in Central Africa or the Ca-
ribbean in great depth or in a social context. Historian Giovanni Anto-
nio da Montecuccolo Cavazzi in 1687 documented detailed descriptions
and images of Kongo daily life and religious practice, and missionaries and
ethnographers Karl Laman, Joseph van Wing, and Efraim Andersson docu-
mented vast amounts of information on the cultures and religions they en-
countered while living in Central Africa. These reports, however, like other
travel accounts and missionary writings emerging out of early European
contact with the region, were informative but did not focus on or even ap-
preciate the forms and uses of graphic expression and, as Wyatt MacGaffey
notes, reflected their authors’ status as observers rather than practitioners
or academics.1 Indeed, many of the earliest studies of writing in Africa fur-
thered the idea that African people are without writing. Value was attrib-
uted only to writing that conformed to classic Western print culture, that
is, writing built from a single alphabet and resulting in the publication of
books and other literary endeavors, and no effort was made to understand
African forms of graphic expression on their own terms. Other publications
on the subject, including those by prominent explorers David Livingstone
and Henry Morton Stanley, were written in the nineteenth-century colonial
context, and their portrayal of Africans as cultureless and uncivilized was
consistent with the political and religious aims of the day. Like the other
so-called benefits of a civilizing European colonial regime, the introduc-
tion of the “technology” of writing was believed to be the result of West-
ern influence.
Early scholarship on African writing focused mainly on northern Africa,
including Egyptian hieroglyphics, generally examined as part of a Western
discourse on antiquity, Christian examples such as the Coptic religious texts
in Egypt and Ethiopia, and Islamic writing among the Berbers in Morocco
and Andalusia, Spain. Other African sub-Saharan writings, such as Vaï in
West Africa, Mum script in Cameroon, and the Nsibidi script of the Efi k
and Ekoï in Cameroon and Nigeria, received less attention.2
Exceptions to this general lack of attention include Lucien Lévy-Bruhl’s
work on African cultural references, which influenced the work of C. G.
Jung, particularly the latter’s glossary of signs, but ignored culturally specific
constructed meanings and described African graphic expression as lacking
consciousness.3 Publications by H. Jensen, J. H. Greenberg, J. DeFrancis,
D. Dalby, and C. Geertz reviewed and catalogued certain examples of Afri-
can writing in encyclopedic fashion and reinforced the idea of a universality
of writing in which Africa is represented in a manner that lacks both histor-
ical and geographic contextualization.4 Monographic publications of more
culturally specific case studies have been made by scholars including K. F.
Campbell, J. K. MacGregor, G. Meurant, Cheikh Anta Diop, Théophile

Obenga, Michele Leiris, and Gerhard Kubik. Although these works did at-
tempt to explore in more depth the social and cultural contexts in which
African writing emerged, they continued to struggle with the idea that his-
tory could be preserved without a standardized alphabetic system and failed
to move beyond the political and social legacy of the Western understand-
ing of language and writing in which narratives are understandable only
within a defi ned and bounded realm of language. Also emerging from an
understanding of writing limited by Western conventions are demands for
permanency and readability. The failure to attribute value to transient ex-
pressions that are not permanently memorialized in material form prevented
scholars from taking into account a wider range of graphic expression that
includes other forms of knowledge notation and nonverbal mechanisms
such as gesture, ephemeral performances, and music and can be used to es-
tablish ideas, record memories, and document facts during a period of rapid
and uncontrollable changes.
Linguists Simon Battestini, David Dalby, Joseph Greenberg, and Théo-
phile Obenga have written generally on graphic traditions in Africa, and
musicologist and linguist Gerhard Kubik has documented the uses and
forms of Sona writing among the Bachokwe people of eastern Angola. Of
these, Simon Battestini has been most successful at combating the miscon-
ception that African peoples do not have writing traditions, particularly in
African Writing and Text, where he introduces a new defi nition of writing,
examines numerous Western linguistic and semiotic texts, and points out
their limitations and ideological constraints. However, even Battestini and
other scholars of African writing seeking to promote a more complete view
of writing in sub-Saharan Africa continue to focus primarily on the idea of
two-dimensional writing instead of the larger rubric of conceptual expres-
sion that graphic writing systems encompass. Milestone works by Obenga
and Battestini, while partially successful, are limited by the use of the same
Western theoretical linguistic paradigms that insist on understanding writ-
ing merely as recorded language. These studies continue to overemphasize
the classification of graphic markers and attempt to impose a fundamentally
alphabetic structure on more complex modes of graphic writing.
Among the few scholars who viewed African graphic expression more
holistically, Marcel Griaule’s detailed epistemological case study on the
Dogon culture in West Africa in the early 1960s focused on oral and graphic
accounts such as mythologies and examined the insights such accounts can
provide into material culture, visual expression, societal organization, and
cultural principles. Griaule’s synthesis of Dogon cosmogony and religion
and his view that verbal history constitutes a key component of a cultural
foundation rooted in cosmogony that is in turn expressed through a variety
of graphic notations have important implications for the study of other cul-
tural groups and have informed some of the methodology underlying this
book.5 Griaule explores specific references to such history and belief systems
that are embedded in Dogon linguistic traits and persuasively argues that
Introduction 7
graphic expression and oral accounts related to cosmogony are a vital com-
ponent of the foundation of cultural principles such as memory and other
forms through which knowledge is conveyed, such as wall paintings and
decorative motifs. As discussed in Chapter 4, Griaule also recognizes the
continuity of graphic symbols over time and has produced a groundbreak-
ing compendium of rupestrian signs and symbols in Le renard pâle (The
Pale Fox), which Griaule published in collaboration with G. Dieterlen. Gri-
aule’s work successfully counters the Western demands for permanency and
readability and breaks new ground in part because of the extensive field-
work on which it is based and its use of a multidisciplinary methodology.
Although they are generally not studied in the context of writing de-
spite their role in complex systems of graphic communication, three-dimen-
sional art forms in Central Africa have been documented and examined in
traditional African art history texts, including those by Cheikh Anta Diop,
Monni Adams, Muhammad Ali Kahn, Louis Brenner, Donald Jackson,
Gaston Maspéro, David Dalby, Victor Y. Mudimbe, Jacques Fédry, Joseph
Greenberg, Georges Meurant, and William Warburton. Many of these texts
contain conventional, speculative, and idealistic interpretations of the object,
but they provide little insight into the social and spiritual context of art and
do not discuss the manner in which such objects are used in conjunction
with other forms of visual art or graphic expression. As Wyatt MacGaffey
argues in Custom and Government in the Lower Congo and Astonishment
and Power, the consideration of Kongo material culture across disciplines
has generally been done in one of two ways.6 The fi rst is derived from the
nineteenth-century disciplines of anthropology and ethnography, which al-
though distinct fields at the time, studied the same objects and “reduce[d]
the totality of the phenomenon to an aspect selected for its consonance
with a particular Western institution.”7 Characterizing a second approach,
one still favored by many museums and private collections, MacGaffey as-
serts that general Western assumptions and associations with the notion of
primitivism align to endeavor to produce a theatrical visual pleasure, such
as through “an object haphazardly selected as representative of a given nkisi
and subsequently labeled ‘fetish’ in a museum collection.”8
Scholars who have studied and defi ned graphic expression more broadly
than as a collection of traditional objects or conventional visible marks and
have considered the societal role of both two- and three-dimensional visual
forms include Costa Petridis, Zoe Strother, Evan M. Maurer, Allen F. Rob-
erts, and Mary Nooter Roberts, particularly through their studies of how
forms of graphic expression are used in divinatory strategies as a mechanism
for the visible notation of the divinatory records. Such work has expanded
the defi nition of graphic expression to include systems of signs, numerology,
forms of religious exegesis, rites of passage, initiations, and kinetic and sonic
events such as ephemeral masquerades. This more expansive defi nition al-
lows one to understand complex graphic expression as distinct from a system
that merely functions to record language. Maurer and Roberts’s arguments
are presented in Tabwa: The Rising of a New Moon: A Century of Tabwa
Art, where they explore the social, political, economic, and religious histor-
ical context, the cosmology, the specific geographic and ecological environ-
ment, and the cultural function of Tabwa art.9 Also making a substantial
contribution to the field of visual communication in African art is the work
by Mary Nooter Roberts among the Luba people in Central Africa. Like
Allen Roberts, Mary Roberts endeavors to create a methodological frame-
work to facilitate a better understanding of graphic expression and the epis-
temological implications of the African notion of art. Both scholars defi ne
and categorize graphic expressions in specific cultural and religious practices
such as divinatory and initiation rites and explore the relationships between
power and form and between changes in form and changes in society.10
A number of other scholars from a variety of disciplines have been sim-
ilarly interested in the religious and other cultural practices of the Kongo
and related cultural groups and have contributed to an understanding of
some of the components of graphic writing systems, although they did not
study the subject practices in this light. Anthropologist Wyatt MacGaffey
conducted extensive fieldwork in the Democratic Republic of the Congo
and has published numerous pieces on Central African history and cul-
ture, focusing on social and political organizations and the history and
formation of religious practices. Among MacGaffey’s most significant con-
tributions is his work on the Kikongo language and its influence on and
reflection of cultural and religious beliefs. Other writers, including Broni-
slaw Malinowski, Pierre Verger, Fernando Ortiz, Lydia Cabrera, Argeliers
León, Roger Bastide, Yeda Pessoa de Castro, Jan Vansina, and John Thorn-
ton, have also touched upon certain of the more visible religious practices.
Farther afield, but interesting in its attention to ritual practices, the work
of Luc de Heusch and Victor Turner uses traditional anthropological and
ethnographic methodologies like those used by Daniel Biebuyck, Rik Ceys-
sens, Filip De Boeck, Renaat Devisch, Dunja Hersak, and Pierre Petit to
explore confl ict, social drama, and the formation of political and social insti-
tutions among the Kongo and Ndembu people in the Democratic Republic
of the Congo and Zambia.11 In particular, de Heusch’s and Turner’s stud-
ies of social relationships and development of a framework from which to
understand how knowledge is created and exchanged in a large sociopolit-
ical context provide a useful foundation for the study of the development
and spread of graphic writing systems and the meanings embedded therein.
The two scholars who delved into Kongo religious and cultural com-
munication systems in the most depth are linguist Clémentine Faïk-Nzuji,
in Arts africains: Signes et symboles, and African art historian Robert Far-
ris Thompson, in The Four Moments of the Sun, and it is from their work
that this book most directly follows. Faïk-Nzuji introduces the notion of
bidimbu as a mode of expression and graphic tradition in Central and West
Africa, critiques the concept of symbol in the context of African culture
and language, and attempts to explain the semantic complexity of the tra-
dition through the exploration of basic linguistics. Robert Farris Thomp-
son explains the use of basic Kongo graphic writing while exploring the
Introduction 9
implications of the development of this tradition across forms of visual

expression in the Bakongo world in Central Africa and its extension in the
diaspora of the Americas. In his work on African art and culture in the dias-
pora, Thompson not only recognizes the direct links between the aesthetic
of the black Americas and artistic expression and visual style on the Afri-
can continent and provides substantial examples of graphic expression and
sources of interaction within religious, philosophical, artistic, and historio-
graphic contexts but also is the fi rst scholar to study written symbols, body
signs, and religious or artistic objects as components of a single cultural
system. This inclusive theory, and its focus on connections over divisions,
has broad implications for the field of African art history and has inspired
and guided the approach taken in this work. The systematic exploration of
the meanings and uses of these communicative forms in this book builds
on the foundation laid by Faïk-Nzuji and Thompson and aims, particularly
through its incorporation of new primary source material, to both broaden
and deepen the study of Central African graphic writing and to present a
fully developed theory of graphic writing systems applicable to sub-Saharan
African culture that does not otherwise exist. It also owes a great debt to
the extensive and detailed writing on Kongo cosmology and cosmogony, as
well as the use of graphic writing and other forms of visual communication
in the Democratic Republic of the Congo and Angola by philosopher, lin-
guist, and Kongo priest Kimbandende Kia Bunseki Fu-Kiau.
Complementing the detailed and groundbreaking work presented by
Thompson and Faïk-Nzuji is more recent work, such as the collection of
essays contained in Inscribing Meaning: Writing and Graphic Systems in
African Art, edited by Christine Kreamer and Sarah Adams (2007), that
explores the range and depth of graphic expression in Africa in a more thor-
ough and thoughtful way than most prior scholarship. This exceptional,
comprehensive, and informative volume examines African graphic tradi-
tions and their influence on other forms of visual practices such as con-
temporary art and aims to challenge popular misperceptions that do not
recognize Africa’s contributions to the global history of writing. The col-
lection of essays in Inscribing Meaning offers the most up-to-date informa-
tion on systems of recording language and creating and communicating
meaning in multiple African cultures. Contributions from leading schol-
ars, including art historians, anthropologists, and literary theorists such as
Mary Nooter Roberts, Simon Battestini, Elizabeth Harney, Christine M.
Kreamer, and Raymond A. Silverman, examine the way African cultures
convey meaning through graphic practices. In sections such as “Inscrib-
ing the Body,” “Sacred Scripts,” “Inscribing Power/Writing Politics,” “Cir-
cumscribing Space,” and “Word Play,” essay topics range from a historical
survey of writing throughout Africa (“Recording, Communicating, and
Making Visible: A History of Writing and Systems of Graphic Symbolism
in Africa” by Konrad Tuchsherer) to detailed studies of specific forms such
as Bamana mud cloths (“Cloth as Amulet” by Sarah Brett-Smith) or Nsi-
bidi scripts in the Cross River region (“Nsibidi: Old and New Scripts” by
Amanda Carlson) to discussions of language as used in contemporary Af-

rican art (“Word Play: Text and Image in Contemporary African Art” by
Elizabeth Harney). Drawing on a range of disciplines and methodologies,
the Inscribing Meaning authors as a whole succeed in facilitating a discus-
sion on specific features of African graphic traditions while not losing sight
of the broader communicative role played by such graphic forms, a role
rooted in cultural specificity, history, and local knowledge.
In its focus on graphic writing systems and religious practices in Cuba
as well as Central Africa, this book follows most closely from classic texts
on Afro-Cuban culture, including those by Lydia Cabrera, Argeliers León,
and Fernando Ortiz, who was the fi rst author to recognize that Africans
and African descendants in Cuba shared a recognizable culture. Prior to
Ortiz, certain folklorists and anthropologists denied any historic and cul-
tural continuity between African traditions and Afro-Cuban religions and
cultures and argued that the Afro-Cuban religions have their own unique
and independent genesis.12 Particularly prevalent in the early twentieth cen-
tury, such arguments were often surrounded by and integrated into larger
debates about national identity and the intelligence and humanity of Afri-
can descendants in Cuba.
Fernando Ortiz was the fi rst scholar to write about Afro-Cuban cul-
ture with some sense of excitement and an attempt at academic rigor, and
he explicitly recognized the African contributions to the construction of
Cuban culture. Ortiz, a lawyer by profession, was a scholar who drew his
methodology from that of criminal anthropology, publishing several books
that had a profound impact on the discourse surrounding identity and un-
derstanding of developing culture in Cuba as well as more broadly in the
Americas. Ortiz’s principal argument was that Africans and African descen-
dants underwent a complex sociocultural process of exchange, negotiation,
and reshaping of cultural traits that Ortiz termed transculturation.13 As
Bronislaw Malinowski described it, for Ortiz, transculturation “was an ex-
change of important factors”14 that began to be recognized as a form of
public identity (African, Spanish, Chinese) in which the culture of African
as well as European descendants is subordinated to an imposed state struc-
ture in which nationalism and individuals’ identity as citizen subjects are
prized. Malinowski went on to argue that the amalgamation of multiple
cultural components into a nation was motivated and determined by forces
including “the new habitat as well as the old traits of both cultures, the in-
terplay of economic factors peculiar to the New World as well as a new so-
cial organization of labor, capital, and enterprise.”15 Ortiz’s work on the
tension between popular, civil, and national culture dominated by Span-
ish cultural forms was and remains a model for other scholars examining
the relationship between the idea and use of visual language and the or-
ganizing and imagining of sociopolitical practices.16 Ortiz’s work, partic-
ularly his 1975 book Los negros esclavos, was also groundbreaking insofar
as it provided an analysis of causality, distinguished the multiple ethnici-
ties that constitute Cuban cultural identity, and discussed, through refer-
Introduction 11
ences to the work of historian Hubert Aimes, the cultural distribution of

the slaves brought to Cuba.17
Although containing satisfactory descriptions and inventories of signs
and symbols used during Kongo-, Ejagham-, and Efi k-based religious prac-
tices in Cuba, the publications Reglas de Congo and Anaforuana by Lydia
Cabrera and “De paleros y fi rmas se trata”18 by Argeliers León exemplify the
suppression of indigenous Afro-Cuban historiography and graphic tradition
by circumventing traditional sources of Afro-Cuban knowledge and omit-
ting the contextual information necessary to understand the use of such
symbols in the religion and culture of the island. Lacking a clear under-
standing of the cultural legacy and specificity of meaning of the graphic
writing rooted in Kongo culture, these works fail to address the elements
of communication codified and conditioned by social history and to answer
questions about the origin of the graphic writing and the transmission of
meaning in the diaspora. More recent work by American scholars includ-
ing Stephan Palmie and David H. Brown also examine Afro-Cuban culture,
but focus on the impact of history and politics on the shaping of African
traditions in the diaspora and do not engage with broader Cuban culture
and the diverse ethnocultural strands that compose it. Palmie and Brown
do not examine the nature of art and visual strategies found among African
descendants in Cuba and critically omit discussion of the key role played by
language and graphic communication in religious practices.
Despite the work of Ortiz, Cabrera, León, Palmie, and Brown, there
continues to be a disconnect between Africanists focused on the study of
cultural, artistic, and linguistic practices in Africa and scholars studying tra-
ditions in the African diaspora without sufficient reference to the agency
of African cultural history. This implicit denial of the continuity of African
historiographical tradition is seated in a deep conviction that Africans in the
continent and their descendants in the Americas were “empty hand[ed] and
empty head[ed],” without culture and writing.19 This book seeks not only
to fully disprove any lingering doubts about the richness of culture in and
beyond Central Africa but also to fi ll the void between those studying only
Africa and those studying only the diaspora by demonstrating the funda-
mental and rich continuity between the two. Although substantial scholar-
ship has explored subjects tangentially related to the graphic writing systems
examined in this book, as far as I know this is the fi rst work that traces the
full history and development of Kongo graphic writing systems. This book
attempts to examine these systems in their complex religious and social con-
text and recognizes the integrated and consistent manner in which they are
used in Central Africa and Cuba. By discussing in detail multiple examples
of works across several related graphic traditions, focusing on both the par-
ticular context in which such traditions are created and used and evaluating
their common semantic proprieties, aesthetic principles, and representa-
tional purposes, this text seeks to offer a more comprehensive understand-
ing of cultural diffusion and exchange and of the formation of collective
memory and identity than existing scholarship.
While Thompson and others have succeeded in expanding the study

of African influences, I seek to enhance and extend their contributions by
temporarily renarrowing the field so as to more closely examine a single
category of visual traditions. By focusing on Kongo graphic writing sys-
tems I aim to provide an in-depth look at the way one culture understands
and expresses meaning over time and across the space of two continents—
a framework for more effective study of other cultures and types of graphic
communication.
methodoLogy
To address the gaps in the existing literature on Kongo graphic writing sys-
tems, I have conducted field research in Angola and Cuba. Over the past de-
cade, I have worked directly with residents of Mbanza Kongo, the former
capital of the Kongo Kingdom in northern Angola, including local priests
Alfonso Seke, Paulino Dulandula, Joan Paulino Polar, Mayifwila Rafael
Rivals, Ntinu Nzaku Nevunda, Nsenga Alabertina, Pedro Savão, and Fran-
cisco Lusolo. My research has included work with village chiefs, the local
ethnographer and museum director, local historians, and members of the
state and city governments. Field research data were obtained through in-
terviews with these and other individuals and through personal observation
of religious practices and daily use of graphic communication techniques
in the town of Mbanza Kongo and in the surrounding villages as well as
through extensive documentation of rupestrian sites containing rock paint-
ings and carvings discussed in Chapter 4. I also traveled across the border
into the Democratic Republic of the Congo to explore a series of caves in
the region and was able to observe historical evidence of graphic writing in
local cemeteries and on fragments of pottery found in the area.
In addition to working with religious figures, community leaders, and
Bakongo elders in Angola, I have worked extensively with Afro-Cuban
priests of Palo Monte for most of my childhood and adult life. In Havana, I
worked closely with Osvaldo Fresneda Bachiller, a respected palero in the El
Cotorro district. With him I came to deeply know the religion and learned
to both create and interpret an enormous range of graphic communica-
tion. I have also studied with Francisco de Armas, a palero from Matanzas.
Finally, I have been working closely with Felipe Garcia Villamil for the past
decade. Garcia Villamil is a Cuban palero as well as a priest of Abakua, an
Afro-Cuban religion developed predominantly from the southern Nigeria
culture of Cameroon, and Ocha (Lukumi), an Afro-Cuban religion with
roots among the Yoruba of Nigeria and Benin. Garcia Villamil now resides
in the United States and remains actively involved in the Afro-Cuban reli-
gious communities of New York City and Los Angeles. More generally, I
have worked with multiple paleros and Palo Monte groups in New Jersey
and Miami. I am enormously indebted to the individuals in both Angola
and Cuba who have taken the time to work with me and have trusted me
Introduction 13
with their recollections of, experiences in, and insights into their respec-
tive traditions.
As is true to a certain degree for any scholar and researcher working
with cross-cultural material and conducting fieldwork, my own cultural and
religious background has influenced the manner in which I have compiled
and interpreted the source material for this book. Because I grew up within
Palo Monte, I have had unique access to paleros and other members of the
Afro-Cuban religious community, and my experience working with them
has been affected by this in several ways. My shared knowledge of this tradi-
tion has facilitated immediate discussion with senior paleros and equipped
me with the religious and social tools necessary to navigate the hierarchy of
knowledge and power within the religion. In my dual role as a practitioner
and scholar, I am cognizant of both the advantages and dangers associated
with the subjectivity of the former. As a result, I have sought to balance
these identities, maintaining a focus on gathering information about the
development of Palo Monte, on issues of temporality and on local and re-
gional variations in practice, and have consistently probed and questioned,
unwilling to accept assumptions or take matters on faith.
In a similar vein, my personal background and experience have had an
impact on the manner in which I have been able to establish relationships
with, develop access to, and engender the trust of Bakongo groups and re-
ligious authorities in northern Angola. As a veteran of the Cuban army’s
extensive involvement in Angola’s civil war, I have, generally speaking, en-
countered enormous gratitude for my service among both the local popu-
lation and individuals in positions of power, although in certain remote,
rural areas in northern Angola that were once strongholds of the principal
rebel group against which Cuba fought (UNITA), the opposite has been
true. On a practical level, appreciation by and trust of government officials
have proven a double-edged sword, in some cases facilitating access—at
least logistically—and in others engendering further suspicion regarding my
motives. As a more general matter, I have not found that my military expe-
riences have come into discussions with local religious and cultural authori-
ties or influenced the degree to which individuals have been willing to share
information with me. What has likely had a more significant impact, as on
my work on Palo Monte, is my own religious and cultural background. The
ability to share similar stories, proverbs, music, and rituals with Bakongo
practitioners as well as a common foundation of reason and logic has en-
abled me to frame questions and elicit answers in an effective manner.
C H A P T E R 2
The Atlantic Passage:

The Spread of Kongo Belief
in Africa and to the Americas
The Bakongo people are found today in northern Angola, southern Dem-
ocratic Republic of the Congo, southern Gabon, and the Republic of the
Congo. A subset of broader Bantu culture that today stretches across much
of eastern, central, and southern Africa, the Bakongo first settled in Central
Africa as a result of larger migrations across the continent. It is generally be-
lieved that the Bantu originated in the vicinity of the Cross River Valley, an
area covered by present-day Chad and Sudan. Archaeologist John Desmond
Clark, in his book The Prehistory of Africa, calls the spread of Bantu-speak-
ing people “one of the most intriguing and challenging problems in Afri-
can studies today” and asserts that its route and full impact on the peopling
of the continent will only be known “through a correlation of many lines
of evidence,” including tracing the genetic similarities between groups and
mapping the linguistic variations measurable today.1 According to the geog
rapher James L. Newman, two major streams of expansion and migration
began approximately five thousand years ago. The first spread south from
regions presently comprising Chad and Sudan toward and through present-
day Cameroon before turning slightly eastward and spreading across and
down to cover present-day Republic of the Congo, the Democratic Repub-
lic of the Congo, and northern Angola. The second stream tracked farther
to the east, also moving south, to present-day Kenya, Uganda, and Tanza-
nia.2 Bakongo oral history identifies Ntunu Nzaku Nevunda as the founder,
hero, warlord, bearer of civilization, and creator of the Kongo Kingdom.3
Georges Balandier and Joseph van Wing mention the importance of the
Nevunda family name in the growth of the kingdom. The following leg-
end cited by van Wing speaks to the direct relationship between expansion
and migratory routes that originally facilitated the acquisition of neighbor-
ing lands.4
At the Kongo of the king

the first man after the king is one who does not yield,
15
It is I, Mpungu.
It was old grandmother Nkumba-Nkumba who gave
birth to us all.
When we left the Kongo
there were nine caravans,
nine leaders’ staffs
The bone of our ancestors,
we brought, we use them to anoint the chiefs,
and the grass rings as well.
The roads were sure,
the villages where we slept were peaceful.
We arrived at the ford of Nsimba.
We stayed together,
We did not separate.
We came to many rivers, to waters of all kinds.
A woman, the mother of a clan, stayed
at the ford of the Mfidi.5
According to Balandier, this legend alludes to a migration under one sin-

gle authority and highlights the matrilineal origin of the Bakongo: “It was
old grandmother Nkumba-Nkumba who gave birth to us all. . . . A woman,
the mother of a clan, stayed at the ford of the Mfidi.”6 The population that
moved through and settled in what are today the Democratic Republic of
the Congo and northern Angola found a rich subsistence environment in
the equatorial rain forest and along the coastal areas.7 They likely encoun-
tered settlements of early ancestors of a people known today as the Mbuti,
whose life in the Ituri forest in the present-day Democratic Republic of the
Congo has been dated as far back as twenty thousand years ago,8 and other
human settlements, evidence of whose Tschitolian industry has been doc-
umented in territories controlled today by Angola and the Democratic Re-
public of the Congo as far back as approximately seventeen thousand years
ago and as recently as A.D. 1000.9 The new arrivals continued the cultiva-
tion of yams and the practice of fishing and hunting evidenced throughout
their migration. In this new land the Bakongo prospered and eventually de-
veloped into one of the most powerful kingdoms in Africa.
Before delving fully into the history and culture of the Kongo, we
should note that the term Kongo is inherently problematic insofar as it
conflates into a single term a complex regional history and multiple cul-
tural identities. The Kongo kingdom’s dominance in Central Africa from
as early as the thirteenth century until the colonial period certainly shaped
the development of the region, but reliance on the term Kongo to describe
a complex amalgamation of cultures and a dispersed, varied population
glosses over the region’s history of war, occupation, migration, and intra-
African slavery and fails to tease out the effects of these disruptive events on
smaller, less powerful groups.10 This problem worsened following European
T h e A t l a n t i c Pa s s a g e 17
contact, as explorers, missionaries, and colonial administrators did not rec-

ognize, appreciate, or respect local cultural differences or internal dynamics
of power and influence. As the slave trade expanded, Portuguese and other
European raiders exacerbated issues of cultural dislocation and conflation
by capturing members of groups located far inland, bringing them into and
through Kongo lands and exporting them to the Americas together with
Kongo slaves.11
An additional layer of confusion with the term Kongo arises out of its
alternative spellings. Authors such as Georges Balandier and Robert Farris
Thompson use Kongo with the letter K to refer to the people and culture
and Congo with the letter C to refer to the river or to the two modern states.
Furthermore, the etymology of the term Kongo is itself unclear. According
to Balandier, the term Ko-mgo translates as “land of the panther, although
‘ally of the panther’ would be a more accurate translation.”12 Members of
the Kongo traditional council (lumbu) explain that the term Kongo was
the name of the fi rst king, long before the arrival of the Portuguese. The
word Kongo also is associated with a deformity on the spine of a person that
causes the body to curve and refers to a plant with twisted roots that visu-
ally resembles such a deformity and can be used as a traditional medicine
to treat it.13 Anne Hilton notes that the Ne Kongo was the fi rst religious
authority and expert in traditional medicine, an nganga, who suffered from
this ailment and found a natural cure for his problem.
In spite of the inherent and serious limitations of the term Kongo, I
believe it is necessary to use this term in the course of this book’s explo-
ration of the cultural principles that inform the Kongo-based religions in
Central Africa, Cuba, and elsewhere in the diaspora. The Kongo nomen-
clature was used as an umbrella term for the categorization of slaves upon
export from certain ports in Africa and arrival in the Americas, and data
on the cultural and political nuances within the category are not available.
Although I am cognizant of the historical limitations of the category and
the series of overlapping, ill-defi ned cultural ethnic and linguistic groups
that constitute the “Kongo,” because the primary goal of this book is to
elucidate the overarching themes and similarities in the complex, integrated
forms of graphic communication used in Central Africa and Cuba, I have
not attempted to untangle the complex cultural history underlying many of
the traditions and belief systems.
Although I devote only limited space to an exploration of the beliefs
and practices of other Bantu-speaking peoples in Central Africa, it is worth
highlighting that, in addition to many shared aesthetic and expressive tradi-
tions, traditional Kongo social and economic structures are closely related
to those of neighboring cultures such as the Pende, Luba, Lunda, Kuba,
and Tabwa and that these groups share many of the Kongo’s notions of
land-use, labor, and power structures as well as mechanisms for control-
ling distribution of produce and wealth in which a matrilineal structure
(kanda) is central.14 There are also striking similarities in the philosophy,
cosmology, and cosmogony of the Kongo and their neighbors, as discussed

in greater detail in Chapter 3.15
The history and stature of the Kongo kingdom are a central part of the
narrative of identity of Kongo descendants in the diaspora. At its height
in the mid-seventeenth century, the Kongo kingdom, which Luis Vas de
Camões described in his 1556 epic work The Lusiads as “the greatest of
then kingdoms” discovered on the western shore of Africa,16 encompassed
a rich and fertile land and controlled access to important trading routes.
Perhaps most importantly, the kingdom developed close contact and eco-
nomic ties (namely, through its monopolistic control over slavery in Central
Africa) with the Portuguese crown. The lasting influence of this powerful
kingdom, as well as its strength and long duration, is seen as an example of
ancient African glory that was often evoked by slaves and their descendants
in Cuba and elsewhere in the diaspora despite the irony inherent in the
source of such strength. In spite of the power and lasting influence of the
Kongo kingdom, information about it and about Bakongo cultural history
prior to initial European contact more generally is limited. Only scattered
texts or fragments describing life in the region are available, and archaeo-
logical study of the prehistoric record is limited. John Desmond Clark is the
only prehistoric archaeologist to conduct research in the Kongo region—
specifically in the northwestern Angolan rain forest. Clark’s work on the
Paleolithic prehistory of this region, published principally through his book
Prehistoric Cultures of Northeast Angola and Their Significance in Tropi-
cal Africa (1970), is a unique and important initial record but is limited in
scope, with references to the Kongo areas of northern Angola consisting of
only a few pages.17 Confl ict and instability in the region have made it par-
ticularly difficult for other archaeologists and scholars to conduct research
in Kongo areas in the period since Clark’s research. Angola, for example,
continues to undergo a slow and often difficult process of national reconcil-
iation following the end in 2002 of the nearly thirty-year civil war, and the
lack of access resulting from such a lengthy confl ict has amplified the exist-
ing dearth of Kongo historiography.
According to John Thornton, the earliest origins of the Kongo king-
dom began around 1350 to 1375 with Nimi a Nzima, ruler of Mpemba
Kasi, who made a number of conquests, especially along the south shore
of the Congo River, and entered into an alliance with Mpuku a Nsuku of
the neighboring polity of Mbata.18 Subsequently, the kingdom grew and
expanded as new domains were conquered and integrated as royal prov-
inces. By the fourteenth century, Kongo royal histories had noted the estab-
lishment of critical political and economic centers such as Loango on the
South Atlantic Coast.19 At its height in the fi fteenth and sixteenth centu-
ries, the Kongo kingdom spanned territory from Gabon to Zambia. In ad-
dition to this swath of direct control, the Bakongo had influence over, and
economic relations with, the Ndumbu, Zombo, Yaka, Kuba, Lunda, and
Luba kingdoms to the north, east, and south.20 The Kongo kingdom was
organized through a centralized government seated in the capital city of

Mbanza Kongo (São Salvador) and benefited from the economic stability
engendered by a kingdom-wide shell-based currency and the proliferation
of trade routes along the Congo River to the interior and to Malembo, the
settlement that became present-day Kinshasa.21 Three important moments
in the history of the Kongo kingdom led to its decline and ultimate decima-
tion: fi rst, the encounter with the Portuguese in 1482; second, the military
confl ict between the Portuguese and the Bakongo in 1665 and the defeat of
the Bakongo at the battle of Ambouila; and, fi nally, the resulting rapid de-
cline of the Bakongo state that culminated in the ceding of full control to
Portugal during the scramble for Africa in 1884–1885.
The Kongo kingdom’s fi rst contact with Europeans was in 1482 when
Diego Cão arrived at the mouth of the Zaire (Congo) River with a Portu-
guese exploration team. This initial contact was followed by the arrival of
subsequent European exploration teams that were documented in travel-
ogues, such as those published by Giovanni Antonio da Montecuccolo
Cavazzi. It was through these early contacts that information about Ba-
kongo culture fi rst became available to Europeans. On his return from
his fi rst trip to the Kongo kingdom between 1482 and 1484, Diego Cão
brought four Bakongo individuals with him to Portugal. Among them was
a member of the noble class named Nsaku, who became the fi rst source of
information about daily life in the Kongo kingdom and is mentioned fre-
quently in accounts written at the time.22 Another individual who played
a similar role was the son of the Mani Kongo (King) Mpemba, known as
Alfonso I after being baptized.23 Alfonso I sent his son Henry to Portu-
gal for theological study as part of his broader plan to Christianize the
Kongo kingdom. Having served as a source of information for the Por-
tuguese while abroad, Henry returned to Mbanza Kongo in 1521 and
worked to further his father’s Christian vision for the kingdom. 24 In ad-
dition to the information about daily Kongo life provided by individuals
such as Nsaku and Henry, much of the balance of available historiography
of the Kongo region is based on colonial documents, including mission-
ary reports, travel accounts, and trader or other official colonial records
kept between the late fi fteenth and early nineteenth centuries. Encoun-
ters with the Kongo kingdom presented a unique opportunity for Euro-
pean travel tales and missionary accounts. Many of the written accounts
in this vein were not actually published by the traveler or missionary but
rather represented a compilation of tales assembled by writers and cartog-
raphers in Europe who, in most cases, had never traveled to the area about
which they wrote. Such accounts include those compiled by Theodorus
De Bry in 1598 and O. Dapper’s volume of recorded tales and associated
maps and images of 1667. Written travel accounts described a society in
which agriculture and related industries were the dominant economic ac-
tivities, with principal crops including yams, pulses, cereals (sorghum, can-
dle millet, and luco), bananas, and palm trees for oil and wine. Additional
protein sources were secured through hunting, fi shing, and the domestica-
tion of goats, pigs, and cattle. Trade in food, raffia, woven and bark cloth,
and medicine was also prominent, and there was limited mining of iron
ore and copper.25
While useful in their recorded detail, travel narratives and missionary
accounts must be read and understood within the context in which they
were created: to serve the narrow ideological purposes of furthering the
expansion of the Portuguese colonial empire and spreading Catholicism in
the region. Primary sources of this ilk include those by Giovanni Anto-
nio da Montecuccolo Cavazzi, Jaun Garcia Mateo de Anguiano, Filippo de
Pigafetta, Girolamo Montesarchio, Giovanni Francesco Romano, Fra Luca
da Caltarnisetta, António Brásio, J. Cuvelier, L. Jadin, O. Dapper, David
Livingstone, and Henry Morton Stanley.26 Such sources, held in locations
including the Propaganda Fide archive in Rome, the archive of the Over-
seas Council of Lisbon, and the Archive of the West India Company at The
Hague, provide material on several aspects of Kongo religion, social struc-
ture, and political development and on the early exchanges between the
Kongo kingdom and European colonial powers.27 Later accounts, such as
those by Jan Vansina and Kajsa Ekholm Friedman, focus on what West-
ern historiography refers to as secondary historical materials such as oral
accounts and other nonwritten or otherwise undocumented sources. Van-
sina, a prominent historian, was among the fi rst to recognize the value of
such sources and to argue that oral history is a valid and valuable way to
build a historical argument.28
Despite the shortcomings of much of the early published material, the
Kongo social history of the period from the fi fteenth century through the
late nineteenth century has been extensively examined by historians John
Thornton and Joseph Miller.29 In attempting to present a more complex
view of social history and address larger issues such as cultural and political
economy, social changes, ethnicity, and other markers of identity, Thornton
and Miller explore the tension between tradition and modernity. However,
these authors generally omit discussion of the role of cultural brokers in
contributing to modern cultural practices and devote limited space to creat-
ing an understanding of local cultural negotiation and the development of
mechanisms through popular culture to reflect and shape new social phe-
nomena. Specifically, the role and encompassing nature of Christianity have
been overstated, with the effect of erroneously viewing certain religious
practices as extinct and overlooking the emergence of new forms of tradi-
tion-based practices.
European interest in the Bakongo soon developed beyond curiosity
about the exotic and a desire to spread Christianity into explorations of
the potential for resource extraction and other economic benefit as a center
of the slave trade. By the end of the fi fteenth century, diplomatic relations
had been established with the Portuguese. From this time to 1884, when
Angola formally became a Portuguese colony, the Kongo alternately fought
and established various trade agreements with Portugal, including the lim-
ited export of ivory and beeswax in exchange for Portuguese imports.30
Also during this period the Portuguese introduced Catholicism and an edu-
cation system. In addition, from 1650 on, the Kongo established relations
with the Dutch crown31 and expanded Kongo exports to Holland of iron
and high-quality textiles, including linen and a textile made of tree bark.32
The sixteenth century was characterized by heightened foreign control
and increasingly widespread religious, cultural, political, and economic in-
fluence, including the spread of Catholicism, the introduction of new forms
of government and administration inspired by the Portuguese, changes in
the ecology resulting from the introduction of domesticated plants, crops,
and animals, the development of a new economy based on European com-
modities, and the establishment of the slave trade.33 Shifting economic mo-
tivations and internal political maneuvering conspired to create a dramatic
shift within the Kongo kingdom in the second decade of the sixteenth cen-
tury. Increasing levels of direct trading with the Portuguese colony of São
Tomé had the double effect of leading certain Kongo traders, eager to ac-
quire European goods, to “kidnap people to sell as slaves,” thus feeding
a growing global appetite for slavery while also “threaten[ing] to destroy
[Kongo King] Afonso’s hard-won position at the apex of the Kongo re-
distributive system.”34 Partly in response to the perceived threat to his po-
sition, Alfonso I introduced Catholicism as the official religion, using it
to legitimize his position as a Christian convert and enhance his power as
well as that of his elite circle.35 This manifestation of Alfonso I’s geopoliti-
cal ambition had an irreversibly deleterious effect on traditional Kongo reli-
gion, Nkadi Mpemba, known in the present day as Ma Kisi Nsi.36
The contemporary relevance of these historical events in the Kongo
kingdom is, of course, in the manner in which the global slavery industry
brought vast numbers of Kongo slaves—and their cultural systems, beliefs,
and aesthetic practices—to Cuba and other ports in the Americas. But the
complex history of the Kongo is also important insofar as it can inform an
understanding of early methods of hybridity, creolization, and syncretism,
concepts essential to an understanding of the development of African dias-
pora studies in the Americas. Work by Georges Balandier and John Thorn-
ton highlights the importance of Catholicism as an early form of cultural
exchange and an avenue to creolization.
By 1512 the exploration and enslavement of the Bakongo and related
peoples had become a substantial industry for the colonial states.37 Through
a combination of trade and war, Europeans forcibly uprooted between four
and five million people from Central Africa, the vast majority of whom
were brought to the Americas as slave labor for plantations throughout the
British, French, Portuguese, and Spanish territories in the Caribbean and
Latin America.38
Together with Brazil, Colombia, Mexico, and the United States, Cuba
was one of the countries to absorb the largest number of slaves. According
to Fernando Ortiz, the influx of Africans to Cuba began as early as 1517,

when the fi rst licenses were issued by King Charles I of Spain,39 and con-
tinued until 1880, when slavery was officially abolished in Cuba. In connec-
tion with abolition, the Spanish government created “Patronato,” a system
of tutelage of free slaves by their former masters similar to the apprentice-
ship system imposed by England in 1834, which proved unpopular among
landowners and freemen alike and was abolished by the Spanish Crown
on October 7, 1886.40 According to a study of the slave trade by Herbert
S. Klein that examines the trade data by five-year periods, approximately
12 percent of the slaves arriving in the Americas between 1674 and 1866
entered at ports in Spanish America, which included the Spanish Carib-
bean,41 and approximately 19 percent of these were in Cuba.42 Precise total
numbers of Africans and their descendants in Cuba during this period are
unknown, but several estimates exist. José Luciano Franco, in his essay
“Esquema histórico sobre la trata negrera y la esclavitud” (Historical Study
of Slavery and the Slave Trade), argues that between 1512 and 1763 approx-
imately sixty thousand slaves were brought to Cuba.43 In his book Los
negros esclavos (Black Slaves), Fernando Ortiz provides more detailed data
on the Afro-Cuban population using census data from Cuba between 1532
and 1907. Ortiz’s data demonstrate the rapid growth in the slave and free
black and mulatto populations, showing that of the total Cuban population
in 1768, 48 percent were white, 10 percent were free black and mulatto,
and 42 percent were slaves. A century later, similar percentages were docu-
mented, with 49.7 percent of the 1867 population white, 14.9 percent free
black and mulatto, and 35.4 percent slave.44
Of the large number of Africans and Afro-Cubans in Cuba, a substantial
and highly influential portion was of Kongo origin. Cultures that formed
part of the Kongo kingdom that were brought to Cuba included Bembe,
Zombo, Mpangu, Sundi, Ladi, Bwende, Kamba, Kunyi, Yombe, Vili, Yaka,
Tsangi, Nzabi, Lumbu, Kuta, Ndasa, Mbamba, Wundu, and Punu. Slaves
from the Kongo kingdom were a particularly significant proportion of the
total between 1817 and 1860. Historian Philip Curtin estimates that from
1817 to 1843, 23.3 percent of the total slaves imported into Cuba were
from northern Congo and Angola; David Eltis estimates the percentage to
be 16.4 percent between 1831 and 1835, growing to 22 percent between
1840 and 1843; and Manuel Moreno Fraginals estimates further growth
between 1850 and 1860, when Kongo slaves accounted for 28.16 percent of
the total.45 Further estimates from the work of Alexander von Humboldt,
Herbert S. Klein, Kenneth F. Kiple, Hubert H. S. Aimes, Deschamps Cha-
peaux, Juan Perez de la Riva, and Michael Gomez show that the proportion
of Kongo descendants fluctuated between 23 and 34 percent of the African
and African-descended population in Cuba during the colonial period.46
Thus the Kongo represented the largest African group in Cuba, but more
than 103 specific cultural groups were documented by Cuban trade author-
ities as composing the slave population of Cuba.47 Of particular significance
were large numbers of slaves imported from present-day Benin and Nige-
ria (including the Yoruba, Fon, Popó, and Nupe),48 with cultures from Mo-
zambique (Macuá), Cameroon and eastern Nigeria (Ibo, Efi k, and Ibibio),
and Sierra Leone (Mandinga, Fulbe, and Susu) also represented. Also no-
table is the fact that, although the Kongo are believed to have accounted
for between one-quarter and one-third of all Africans in Cuba, their arrival
rates relative to other groups of slaves fluctuated, with numbers of newly
imported slaves of Kongo origin particularly dominant in the sixteenth cen-
tury but falling off sharply by the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. The
early Kongo domination of the slave trade began in the 1560s as a result of
confl ict between the Kongo kingdom and neighboring kingdoms that led
to Portuguese military invasions of the Mbumbu kingdom to the south and
the establishment of a Portuguese military settlement at the port of present-
day Luanda.49
The enormous costs of forced migration on this scale are clear, and sig-
nificant scholarship has been devoted to both the immediate impact of slav-
ery on West and Central African communities and its lasting legacy in such
areas and in the Americas. Less thoroughly studied are the degree to which
the slaves brought their rich cultures and complex belief systems with them
and the lasting impact these heritages had on music, religion, and over-
all culture throughout and beyond the Caribbean. Much of the existing
literature on slavery in the Americas overlooks the continued importance
of the concept of community among the transported slave population and
the development of various kinds of communities upon arrival, either along
lines of social class and proximity or defi ned by a common experience of
marginalized social groups such as slaves, farmers, and artisans. Particu-
larly damaging to the understanding of communities and cultural practices
in the diaspora is the idea of the “Middle Passage” as a universal expe-
rience of deculturation, alienation, and trauma that flattened and erased
all African cultural traits. As Thornton notes, “Historians have sometimes
seen the passage of slaves across the Atlantic on the slave ships as a fi rst
and crucial step in their deculturation. . . . The passage was a psychologi-
cal shock from which they never recovered, rendering them docile and pas-
sive and thus receptive to whatever limited culture inputs their master or
the slave situation might provide.”50 This strong emphasis on the role of de-
culturation implies an inability of the African population to negotiate cul-
tural survival and leaves little room to articulate or explore the sociocultural
mechanisms through which African traditions were developed and main-
tained in the Americas. In fact, the African slaves were skilled at negotiat-
ing memory and developing strategies of cultural survival and were able to
bring their belief systems, religious practices, and cultural structures with
them, and to rapidly rebuild social and cultural agencies such as cabildos
and develop forms of popular religious practices and public events in metro-
politan centers throughout the Americas. Appreciation for these skills, to-
gether with the related understanding of the value the Kongo place on the
notion of community, should be included in a historical narrative of the

Kongo experience.
The impact of imported belief systems, religious practices, and cultural
structures was and continues to be felt in all countries that had significant
slave populations but is most notable in Cuba, Haiti, and Brazil. Although
this book focuses on the cultural and religious legacy of the Bakongo in
Cuba and documents the continued pivotal role of and connections between
these practices in both Cuba and Central Africa, similar work is being done
on the African-descended populations in Brazil and Haiti and their respec-
tive practices of Candomble/Umbanda and Vodou.
The Bakongo and related cultures, like other slave populations, were
brought to Cuba with their lives, families, and traditions disrupted but their
memories, religious beliefs, languages, and other modes of communication
intact. These cultural practices were treasured as markers of identity and
were preserved by slaves and free blacks alike through a range of techniques,
institutions, and social organizations throughout the colonial period to the
present day. Most prominent among the institutions that enabled such pres-
ervation were plantations, palenques, and cabildos.51
On plantations across Cuba, large populations of slaves with diverse
ethnic backgrounds were thrown together in close confi nement and forced
to perform extreme physical labor. As a source of strength, slaves turned
to their own faiths and cultures, continuing to engage in the religious and
cultural practices they fi rst recalled from home and later learned from ear-
lier slave generations. As plantation owners were openly hostile to African
religious activities, Africans became adept at masquerading their religious
practice in the aesthetic and verbal cloak of Catholicism. Known as syn-
cretism, this practice of cloaking has been studied by scholars such as Fer-
nando Ortiz.52
Kongo descendants outside the restrictive environments of the planta-
tions had less immediate need to cloak their religious traditions with Cath-
olic iconography and thus played a critical role in keeping their ancestral
traditions alive in Cuba. During the eighteenth century, the Cuban pop-
ulation grew considerably in relation to growth rates documented in pre-
vious centuries, and African descendants contributed significantly to such
growth. A census conducted in 1774 listed the white population as compos-
ing 65.4 percent of the total, with “colored” groups composing the remain-
ing 34.6 percent.53 Distinctions between free blacks and slaves in the same
census indicate that slaves accounted for a quarter of the overall Cuban pop-
ulation.54 The number of free nonwhites grew from this point on, but the
demographic data provided by scholars are inconsistent. Whereas Franklin
Knight argues that the demographic data show that free nonwhites con-
stituted on average more than 30 percent of the Cuban population during
this period,55 other estimates are lower, ranging from 10 percent in 1768
to 14.9 percent in 1867.56 However high the numbers, it is clear that free
nonwhites played an increasingly important role in the maintenance and
development of religious and cultural traditions and are an important ele-

ment in understanding the class and cultural diversity in colonial and post-
colonial Cuba.
Various groups of free nonwhites, some sanctioned by the crown, oth-
ers not, were established. The free mulatto and black populations were per-
mitted to organize a special militia to fight on behalf of the Spanish crown.
This militia, the “Batallones de Pardos y Morenos,” was formed in the sev-
enteenth century.57 As free blacks arrived in Cuba or as slaves purchased
their freedom, they gravitated toward such structured groups, which gradu-
ally grew in size, and by the year 1770 the Pardos y Morenos supplied 3,413
soldiers to the Spanish colonial army, constituting approximately 30 percent
of the total force.58
Palenques were communities created by self-liberated slaves who orga-
nized themselves outside the context and control of colonial power. By the
nineteenth century, more than fi fty palenque communities were known to
exist throughout Cuba, living in isolated areas of the countryside and try-
ing to avoid detection by the authorities.59 In the palenques, Africans were
free to live and worship the way they chose, a freedom that undoubtedly
contributed to both the maintenance and mixing of traditions, although
there is an absence of historical documentation of practices, religious or
otherwise, of the palenque communities.
Cabildos were organizations created by the colonial authorities in Cuba
and elsewhere in the Spanish Caribbean to organize and segment differ-
ent groups within free black and mulatto societies. Lydia Cabrera’s seminal
Reglas de Congo: Palo Monte Mayombe refers to numerous cabildos known
as “Cabildos de Nacion” and describes them as groupings of Africans fi rst
according to their place of origin/embarkation and later according to so-
cial class, faith, and political orientation. For example, cabildos represent-
ing peoples from Central Africa—including Congos, Basongo, Mumboma,
Bateke, Mundemba, Bakongo, Musabela, Kimbanda, Bayaka, Benguela,
Mondongo, Mayombe, and Ngola—date back to around 1799.60 By cate-
gorizing the population according to ethnic, national, and cultural origin,
the Spanish authorities believed they could marginalize the African popu-
lations in Cuba and prevent groups from uniting and mobilizing against
the government.61 Fernando Ortiz, in his book Los cabildos y la fiesta afro-
cubanos del Día de Reyes, distinguishes between the nomenclature used to
refer to such institutions in Havana (where they were called cabildos) and
the use of the term royal societies (sociedades reinados) outside of the city.62
The establishment of cabildos in Cuba was not surprising, as they, as well as
similar religious groups called cofradias, had long existed in Spain. In fact,
as early as the fi fteenth century, Africans in Europe had begun to use frater-
nal and religious groups as a means of reasserting their own cultural iden-
tity and beliefs in the face of the increasing power of Catholic society after
the reconquest of the Iberian Peninsula.63 Significant continuity has been
noted between the cofradias and cabildos of free blacks in Cuba, largely as a
result of migration of Spanish Africans to Cuba. As in Europe, Cuban cabil-

dos established connections and strengthened ties among individuals with
shared origins and sheltered unique cultural practices from external influ-
ence.64 There had been limited study of the manner in which the cabildos
were organized or the religious traditions practiced therein, and much of
the information recorded about them has been in the form of anecdotes
about their public performances on Christmas day and related festivities.
Lydia Cabrera, in her book Reglas de Congo: Palo Monte Mayombe, cited
Cuban National Archive licenses requested by Africans and African descen-
dants between 1867 and 1869 as evidence of the formation of several cabil-
dos of Congo affi liation, such as the cabildo Niasanga commanded by Prio
Morales, the cabildo in Pueblo Nuevo (New Town) at Calle de la Salud 167
headed by Merced Pulgaron, and the cabildo Congo Muango commanded
by Jesus Maria y Jose.65
In addition to state-sponsored cabildos, a wide range of other fraterni-
ties were created by free blacks in Cuba. These included religious and mili-
tary organizations and professional guilds made up of merchants, painters,
artisans, tailors, cabinetmakers, shoemakers, silversmiths, jewelers, nurses,
and educators.66 Like cabildos, these organizations enabled Africans of sim-
ilar backgrounds and interests to gather and form lasting networks in which
they were able to continue to practice ancestral traditions.
Cuba gained independence from Spain in 1898 and, after a brief occu-
pation by the United States, became a democratic republic and remained
so until 1959, when the Cuban Revolution culminated in the communist
government’s ascension to power. During the postindependence period,
and subsequent to the establishment of communism, Cuba has seen vary-
ing levels of religious and cultural freedom. Despite frequent periods of
restriction, Afro-Cuban culture and religious practices have adapted and
survived, strongly influencing the development of contemporary Cuban
identity. Although accurate statistics are not published, it is widely thought
that close to three-quarters of Cuba’s population is descended from Afri-
cans, and a large number of households continue to practice one or more
Afro-Cuban religions exclusively or in conjunction with Catholicism.67
The convergence of factors described above enabled the creation of
spaces in colonial Cuba in which Afro-Cubans were able to preserve their
cultural and religious heritage. Within these spaces, complex modes of
visual communication that I call graphic writing systems played a crucial
and lasting role in both the practice and teaching of traditional religious
beliefs and critically served to record such beliefs and traditions of African
communities over the centuries. In light of this central role, in all of the
institutions discussed previously, the person responsible for graphic writ-
ing was accorded great status as the historian and keeper of a community’s
memory. The status more generally accorded to graphic writing and the
continuity of its use over time helped ground African cultural traits in their
new context while also responding to, and changing in the face of, its new
inevitable communicative challenges. This flexibility further legitimated tra-
ditional knowledge and allowed it to remain relevant in a changing world.

The graphic writing system used by the Kongo-descended Afro-Cuban
population is known as fi rmas, and it, together with the religious traditions
it both reflects and guides, can be directly traced to the beliefs and visual
and religious practices of the Bakongo in Central Africa, as detailed in the
following chapters.
C H A P T E R 3
The Process of Meaning Making:

The Kongo Universe
Complex belief systems are used across cultures to help individuals and
communities identify themselves and understand their place in the world.
While varied in their substances and outward expression, such systems serve
a similar purpose in that they create a narrative through which culture is
formed and transmitted to later generations. This narrative engenders a
sense of both identity and purpose, helps individuals understand where they
came from and how they got here, and defines the role of forces that exist
to guide them through life and beyond. Understanding any such narrative
requires the exploration of several interrelated strands that include cosmol-
ogy, the study of the origin of life and its meaning;1 cosmogony, the study
of God and the human condition; 2 and mythology, the history of a people
told through the collection of stories and characters that preserve collec-
tive memory.3
By studying the ways in which the Bakongo understand their origin,
their creator, their world, and their place within it, we can explore the cul-
tural and spiritual context necessary for an understanding of the graphic
writing systems that act as vehicles for these beliefs. In addition, an initial
analysis of Kongo cosmology, cosmogony, and mythology allows us to see
and appreciate the conceptual parallels between Kongo culture in Central
Africa and in Cuba.
Three primary scholars whose work has contributed to the study of
Kongo religion are Karl Laman, Wyatt MacGaffey, and Kimbwandende Kia
Bunseki Fu-Kiau. Karl Laman’s extensive research on Kongo religion in
the southern Democratic Republic of the Congo in the late nineteenth and
early twentieth centuries has been compiled in The Kongo, Volume 3, in
which the author covers much ground, starting with a chapter on Kongo
conceptions of the soul and moving through dreams, reincarnation, notions
of death, Bisîmbi spirits, the cult of the ancestors, and the notion of God.
The second part of the book documents examples of religious ceremonies,
shrines, sacrifices, prohibitions, types of worship, and “magic” before con-
cluding with an examination of initiatory societies, Kongo notions of good
and evil, and an overview of oral literature. MacGaffey, whose primary field-
work was conducted in the Democratic Republic of the Congo in the 1960s
29
and 1970s, also documents a wide range of Kongo “ritual practices” and
the religious beliefs that guide them in Modern Kongo Prophets: Religion
in a Plural Society. Fu-Kiau, a Kongo priest, provides the most complete
account of Kongo cosmology, cosmogony, mythology, and moral philos-
ophy in his manuscripts Kongo Religious Philosophy and Mukuku Matatu.
As mentioned in Chapter 2, numerous features of Kongo philosophy, cos-
mology, and cosmogony are shared by neighboring Bantu-speaking cul-
tures, including the Pende, Luba, Lunda, Kuba, and Tabwa, and work by
other scholars on the belief systems and ritual practices of such cultures has
also informed this book. In particular, the extensive research of Allen Rob-
erts and Mary Nooter Roberts among the Tabwa and Luba, respectively,
has provided a wealth of information on philosophy, mythology, and rit-
ual among these groups, much of which points to similarities with Bakongo
beliefs and practices.
Fu-Kiau describes Kongo religion as a basic triangulation of interac-
tive parts. The fi rst part is the spiritual realm that concerns “God,” a force
conceptualized as the source of creation and universal power (Nzambi a
Mpungu or Kalûnga) and the ancestors (bakulu); the second is the physical
realm that concerns manifestations of God’s power (bisîmbi); and the third
is the emotional realm that concerns specialists in bisîmbi powers (nkita),
experts on nkisi worship (banganga), and other humans. These three realms
defi ne the basic notions of Kongo religion expressed through its history,
cosmogony, and mythology.4
The counterpart in Cuba to Kongo religion as practiced in Central
Africa is Palo Monte. With roots in the memories of the Bakongo slave pop-
ulation, Palo Monte developed as a religion in its own right. Its tools for
organizing knowledge and understanding the world have retained tremen-
dous continuity with those used in Central Africa, while also successfully
evolving to formulate unique responses to a different environment. Palo
Monte fundamentally strives for harmony between humans and nature, and
in this quest requires a dialogue among humans, nature, and the cosmos.
Kongo-Cubans, like the Bakongo in Central Africa, engage in this dialogue
on three levels: spiritual, physical, and emotional.
In the balance of this chapter we explore these three levels with the
dual aim of better understanding the philosophies and religious beliefs that
underlie the graphic expression used by the Bakongo and tracing the con-
tinuities and disruptions of these philosophies and beliefs in Central Africa
and Cuba.
Kongo coSmogony: nZa KÔngo

Kongo cosmogony, called Nza Kôngo, tells of the state of the universe, of
human conception, and of the existence of God. As its starting point, a myth
tracing the origin of the universe centers around the concept of kalûnga.
Literally translated, kalûnga means “[one] who is complete by [one]self,
the all-in-all.”5 This notion of completeness grows out of the story of cre-
The Process of Meaning Making 31
ation, told in the following paragraph, which positions kalûnga as “a fi re-

force complete by itself, emerging from within the mbôngi, the emptiness/
nothingness[,] and [becoming a] source of môyo wawo mu, the source of
the whole life on the earth”6 and as “the source of universal power that
made things happen in the past, makes things happen today, and above all,
[is able to] make things happen tomorrow.”7
As told by Fu-Kiau, in the emptiness of the beginning of time, the
heated force of kalûnga raged, blowing up and down as a huge storm,
fi nally exploding upon itself. From this blast, a physical mass of energy was
produced. As this mass cooled, it solidified, thus giving birth to the earth
(nza). The process of cooling produced water that formed rivers and carved
mountains. The world, nza, has since remained a physical reality floating
in endless water within the cosmic space: half emerged for terrestrial life
and half submerged for underwater life and the spiritual world.8 Because
the source of all life is the force of kalûnga, everything related to the earth
shares that life. The Bakongo believe that creatures and objects of all sizes
and forms, from plants to insects and animals, from rocks to human beings,
contain kalûnga. Kalûnga is today a symbol of force and vitality that stands
for the process and principle of change.
The Bakongo believe that existence is divided into two parts. These
parts are considered two separate worlds, “this world” (nza yayi) and “the
land of the dead” (nsi a bafwa).9 Kalûnga is often used to signify the divi-
sion between the living and dead worlds. This usage stems from its role
as the force that divided the emptiness or nothingness from all existence.
The frontier between the worlds is traditionally conceptualized as a body of
water, as “Nzadi, the great river,” or “M’bu, the ocean.”10 Water thus comes
to represent life’s beginning as well as its fi nal stages.
As a liquid boundary, kalûnga is porous, continuing to enable an
encounter between the living and the dead. Wyatt MacGaffey, writing of
the Kongo belief in two worlds, describes rituals “taking place at the bound-
ary between the worlds”11 as “means of manipulating relations between this
world and the other.”12 Viewing the earth as floating in liquid space, the
Bakongo believe that the earth itself is a container, self-contained within a
protective wrapping designed to guarantee the interaction of its contents.
Bakongo belief does not clearly distinguish between human life, nature,
and spiritual entities, and it is within this single packet that the spirit world
and the world of the living are bound. Divided only by kalûnga, the inter-
action between the spheres of life and spirit is considered a form and source
of medicine.13 In order to maintain the existing harmony between the two
worlds, humans must maintain contact with their ancestors in the other
world and facilitate their spiritual return. This is done through ritual per-
formances in which priests utilize graphic writing systems to enable contact
between the living and the dead. These interworld relations are necessary
not only for the ancestors but also for the living. A common Kongo prov-
erb both in Central Africa and in Cuba states, “Without the dead, there
is nothing.”14
Fu-Kiau explains this view of earth as a self-sufficient container, stat-

ing, “Earth (futu or fûnda) contains everything that life needs for its sur-
vival: ‘medicines’ (nkisi/bilongo), ‘food’ (madia), ‘drink’ (ndwînu), etc.”15
This manner of understanding life empowers the crucial physical and spir-
itual relationship between the Bakongo people and the rain forest. The
Bakongo believe that the rain forest is the principal matter, the source of
medicine, and the fount of the binding essence of life. The forest is under-
stood as a manifestation of kalûnga, and its importance is evidenced by
the saying “Maza matunwanga, nfînda, the water we drink is a forest,”16
Fu-Kiau writes that the forest comprises plants that can be understood as
“pipes through which hidden substances in the futu (earth) flow to ‘life’
on earth.”17
Bakongo understanding of kalûnga is complex and multilayered, and
the term itself is often employed in widely disparate contexts that carry dif-
ferent meanings. For example, kalûnga can be used as a verb to express the
sensation of being in motion or moving forward, making progress. Alterna-
tively, it is frequently employed as an adjective, describing something with
the metaphoric qualities of water—fresh, cool, and spiritually cleansing.
Finally, when used as a noun, kalûnga either means the force of life’s cre-
ation or signifies a location, the place where the ancestors live, a graveyard.
In its roles as the universe’s creator and the source of all life and
change, Kalûnga is generally translated into English as “God.”18 Accu-
rate to a certain degree, this simple translation glosses over critical distinc-
tions in the way the notion is understood in Kongo culture. Unlike Western
“God(s),” Kalûnga is a force, a form of energy rather than an identifiable
entity. Human attributes or characteristics are not ascribed to it, and it does
not carry or impose moral values. To the extent that Kalûnga is used to
mean “God,” it is often done so interchangeably with the term Nzambi a
Mpungu, which can be directly translated as “Almighty God.”
The earliest Western record of the Kongo notion of God is found in
the writing of Giovanni Antonio da Montecuccolo Cavazzi from the period
1654–1670, which acknowledges God as Zambia-an-pongou.19 Another
early reference is found in Olfert Dapper’s description in his travels around
Loango kingdom in 1666.20 A similar name is used by the Woyo, Yombe,
Vili, Mbumba, Bunzi, and Funza peoples, who refer to God generally as
Nzambi a Mpungu Tuleno.21 There have been numerous other references to
Nzambi a Mpungu in the works of William Holman Bentley, Karl Laman,
Efrain Andersson, J. van Wing, K. K. Bunseki Fu-Kiau, and Wyatt Mac-
Gaffey. Among these scholars, Laman offered the most information on
Nzambi a Mpungu, making note of a vast array of beliefs and practices
related to this conception of God and concluding overall that Nzambi a
Mpungu is thought of as superior to all beings and as wielding all power. 22
Laman went on to describe the more nuanced meanings of Nzambi:
A master of thunder and Lightning, [Nzambi] is also given the divine name
of Mpungu, with the addition of bidimu (from duma, thunder). Mpungu
bidimu signifies a superior being in the sky who resurrects the dwellers of
the sky from their deathlike slumber during the dry season. . . . Nzambi,
Mpungu is often used to signify something large, supernatural or wonder-
ful and likewise for the dead.23
Laman further points out that usage of kalûnga or Nzambi a Mpungu

appears to be guided by regional custom. For example, the Bachokwe,
while understanding the conceptual usage of the term Nzambi a Mpungu,
in practice refer only to kalûnga, whereas the reverse is true among the Ba-
kongo farther west.
Bisîmbi spirits (singular: sîmbi) are manifestations of the universal
power of kalûnga and are referred to as “Holy Power” in Angola’s Zaire
province.24 Bisîmbi are associated with every aspect of life and the environ-
ment and are believed to be everywhere and in everything.25 Fu-Kiau de-
scribes bisîmbi as “spiritual and physical beings. . . . They are [intelligent
and powerful] forces that guard the community and its natural environ-
ment. Bisîmbi are considered dynamic, adaptive forces which act throughout
multiple generations of the community and thus control its equilibrium”26
They are also believed to play a protective role, and it is said that “every city
has a sîmbi that holds it together; if the sîmbi of the city dies, the city will
too.”27 This protective role is reflected in the name used to refer to such be-
ings; the word sîmbi is rooted in the verb simba, which means “to hold,”
“to touch,” “to keep,” and “to preserve.”28
There are numerous bisîmbi spirits. According to Bakongo belief, God’s
power is found in everything throughout nature. It is in every stone, river,
plant, animal, and human, and even in metaphysical form, in emotions,
dreams, and memories. Each fragment of this power is manifested by an
individual sîmbi, and each individual spirit must be invoked to access the
power or energy it represents. The following list is but a sampling of the
enormous range of sîmbi.
• Sîmbi-mamba n’kwa-mandoto: the spirit of the water or the ances-

tor’s world
• Vata diakondwa sîmbi difukidi: the sîmbi of the village (Fu-Kiau)
• K’andi nganga ko: the sîmbi of someone who will be a leader, pre-
pares that person for future duty
• Sîmbi Nzonzi: the sîmbi of philosophy and politics
• Sîmbi Nsi yafuka: the sîmbi of determination and knowledge
• Sîmbi Mbogi Mahehula/buna yakoma: the sîmbi of dynamic lead-
ership
• Sîmbi ka nkisi wanganga ko: the sîmbi of divination and direction
• Sîmbi Lunsanpu: The sîmbi of ancestral forces
• Sîmbi malu ku maza: the sîmbi that serves the community, that
embraces knowledge about the history and politics of the society
• Sîmbi n’kam’a ntangu ye dunga: the sîmbi that controls the course
of events in space and time
• Sîmbi Nkodia: the sîmbi of death, of resting 29

• Sîmbi Nkagi Mayamba: represents the land, Mbanza Kongo
• Sîmbi dia Maza: the water that is the closest to humans and repre-
sents the power of human life
• Sîmbi Makinsola: the sîmbi of love
• Sîmbi Makaya: spirit of the rain forest, the way to fi nd the perfect
combination of medicine. Sîmbi Makaya is subdivided into other
specific Sîmbi, including the following:
• Matiti ma meso or Makaya ma meso: medicinal leaves that cure
the eyes
• Makaya bititi: leaves that are used as fertilizer
• Makaya nkasa: leaves that can be eaten, legumes or leaves of a
manioc plant
• Sîmbi Nzundi Muana Nkangi: the sîmbi that represents family
members, specifically nephews
• Sîmbi ne Kongo Ngudia: the sîmbi that represents family members,
specifically paternal uncles
• Sîmbi Mpangu Lusunsi: an upright stone stuck deep into the land
or a rock with four corners, or even as a real trunk of a tree
• Sîmbi Mbamba: a large sea-shell30
Figure 1 illustrates the complexity of the sîmbi system as conceptual-

ized in and around Mbanza Kongo, Angola.
Bisîmbi play an extremely important role in Kongo cosmogony. In addi-
tion to being central to Bakongo understandings of God’s power and the
energy of all things in and beyond this world, bisîmbi play a critical role in
all aspects of religious practice. For example, each nkisi (a religious object
believed to house ancestral spirits) 31 contains at least one sîmbi to enable
the activation of the other spirits contained therein, and in every religious
performance the corresponding sîmbi must be addressed and offered a liba-
tion at the opening of the ceremony. Certain bisîmbi are used in the teach-
ing of religious and cultural knowledge, while others are used in agriculture
to bless the ground and ensure a good harvest. One sîmbi is used in funeral
rites, and others are used to cleanse the body and prepare it for the next
world. Certain other bisîmbi are believed to need feeding, so animal sacri-
fices are made at the place in a community where such a village sîmbi lives.
The religious figure with the greatest knowledge of bisîmbi is an expert
known as an nkita, the priest of sîmbi.32 Given the vast number and com-
plexity of bisîmbi in Bakongo cosmogony, the nkita is an important and
prominent figure in the community.
Considering the central importance of bisîmbi to the Bakongo, it is
not surprising to fi nd them well represented in a range of media dating
back centuries. The fi rst graphic references to bisîmbi are found in rupes-
trian art of the Lovo33 and in dikenga cosmograms explained by Fu-Kiau
in the early 1960s and by Thompson in greater detail in the early 1980s.
ˆ ˆ
f i g U r e 1 Graphic illustrating the interconnected forces and entities conceptualized

within the Bakongo religious realm. (drawing by Bárbaro martínez-ruiz, 2007.)
As explored in more depth in the next chapter, dikenga is a common sym-

bol that depicts two lines in the form of a cross, generally seen encircled or
with its four points connected in diamond formation. Dikenga is depicted
numerous times in the caves of Lovo. The bottom half of the symbol is
believed to represent the water that gave rise to life and is embodied by
Sîmbi kia Maza, the most important and powerful of the bisîmbi spirits.
Another ancient graphic reference to sîmbi is in a cosmogram located
near Lovo and carved onto the face of a giant stone known as Tadi dia
Sîmbi. This site is still used by religious figures in and around Mbanza
Kongo for the most sacred religious ceremonies. Thompson refers to its
location in his book Le geste Kôngo and describes the Manianga elevation
of the spirit of the dead performed there. The Tadi dya Sîmbi cosmogram
is known as the “roads of God” (Zinzila a Mpemba) and is employed to
ensure a spirit’s smooth elevation and transition into its new function as a
guardian spirit of the dead (Mpeve ya Nlongo). A more detailed discussion
of this cosmogram is given in the next chapter, but it is particularly notable
for purposes of the present discussion of sîmbi because of its name, and its
spiritual importance for understanding a religious theory capable of describ-
ing nature’s forces within a single all-encompassing, coherent framework.
Bisîmbi are also represented in the funeral art and Mabôndo terra-cotta
figures found in the Bakongo burial grounds at Boma, Matadi, and Noki,
dated to the 1500s.34 When Thompson took up R. L. Wannyn’s archaeo-
logical fi ndings, he advanced the idea of funeral art as a source and medium
of language. Thompson’s work recognized in the graves’ design a sequence
of meanings that corresponded with Bakongo beliefs, religion, and philos-
ophy. Most importantly, Thompson noted that the mabondo figures were
believed to be machines used to fly over sîmbi’s realm and cross his frontier
on the way to the world of the living.35
Bisîmbi have also been represented in the writings of scholars and mis-
sionaries working among the Bakongo as early as the seventeenth century.
Most extensive in his documentation was Laman, whose work, though now
recognized as partially inaccurate, demonstrated a recognition of the im-
portant role played by bisîmbi in Kongo culture. Laman wrote that bisîmbi
are called “the Countries of the Water” and are used as a metaphor for the
ocean.36 The ocean was also seen, Laman stated, as sîmbi’s “indestructible
town, his eternal realm under the water.”37 Although he appeared not to
understand that numerous bisîmbi existed in all parts of nature, Laman did
make reference to other habitats and symbolic representations beyond the
central notion of sîmbi as embodied by water. For example, Laman wrote
that sîmbi’s land on earth, named Vunda, or resting place,38 is located on,
or symbolized by, hills surrounded by road-crossed plains.
While the concepts of kalûnga and bisîmbi shape Bakongo understand-
ings of the creation of the universe and the shaping of the world, a separate
myth tells of the origin of humanity.39 The Bakongo believe that Muhungu,
the fi rst human, grew out of a palm tree, “muti-mpungu” or the “tree of
God.”40 Because palm trees are believed to have witnessed the moment of
conception, they are considered to house the ancestors and thus serve as
sources of information about the past.41 The role of palm trees in the story
of creation ties into the Bakongo belief in the power of the forest. God and
humanity are believed to be connected to the forest, which is in turn seen as
the source of all things.42 As such a single source, the forest is at once con-
fl icted and balanced; for example, the forest contains illnesses and evil while
simultaneously providing all that is needed for healing and protection.
Muhungu was both male and female, in itself a complete being (muntu
walunga). In this sense, Muhungu mirrors the conceptualization of Nzambi
a Mpungu, or God, and is reviewed as both a great positive force and a neg-
ative one. Fu-Kiau describes a double-faced statue that represents the idea
of Muhungu and is used in the fi rst stage of initiation (nkulumukunu ku
Lemba) into Lemba or Kinkimba societies.43 Understood by the Bakongo as
complete in itself, Muhungu was happy and full of pleasure, it did not show
any signs of suffering, and it did not know jealousy or hatred. God saw this
joyful being as too simple, as incapable of recognizing the complexity of life
or changing in response to it. To remedy, this failing God ordered the sep-
aration of Muhungu into two separate sexes. The separation created lûmbu
(male) and muzita (female), each with attributes to distinguish it from the
other. So distinguished, the new gendered beings were able to experience
the richness of life and learn from one another. They were able to respond
to things and change as they progressed through life. However, in this life-
long journey, neither one was complete alone. For the Bakongo, the mean-
ing of marriage is the rejoining of the two parts. It is an achievement and
symbol of Muhungu’s perfect union, the fulfi llment of joy and pleasure
through the coming together of the two complementary genders.44
The following categories of forces, powers, and beings represent the
ideas that form the foundation for Bakongo cosmogony:
• Nzambi a Mpungu Tulendo (universal vitality and power)

• Nzambi a Mpungu Deso (influence of the forces in the environ-
mental realm)
• Yisîmbi (the manifestation of the forces and all matter)
• Mpungu (embodiment in a multiple form of all forces and vital
power)
• Bakulu (real ancestors)
• O Bantu (peoples)
• Banganga (experts in Kongo religious system)
• Kiampemba (the incomprehensible realm)
These forces, powers, and beings fulfi ll roles that are neither static nor
unitary. Instead, they are marked in their duality—with each having two or
more complementary sides that, while in opposition to one another, when
balanced are synthesized into a representative whole that manifests the core
essence of the entity. The various concepts and categories are mapped in Fig-
ure 2 as they relate to one another and fit into the broader religious context.
Neighboring cultures, including the Pende, Luba, Lunda, Kuba, and
Tabwa, share a number of key concepts of Bakongo belief, including kalûnga,
notions of powerful yet unpredictable forces like the Bakongo sîmbi and
ndoki, and the concept of the duality of human existence in physical and
spiritual life created by the union of moyo (soul, spirit) and mvuanda (force
of life).45
f i g U r e 2 Graphic illustrating the Bakongo religious system. (drawing by Bárbaro

martínez-ruiz, 2007.)
Kongo coSmogony: nZa cUba

In Palo Monte in Cuba the story of the origin of life is recounted using
many of the same concepts seen in Kongo mythology in Central Africa.
Of particular note is the centrality of water in Palo Monte mythology sur-
rounding the inception and structure of the world. Close parallels are also
seen in the Kongo-Cuban attitudes toward ancestors, nature, and the forest.
A Palo Monte proverb expresses the central role of water in the moment
of creation, holding that “everything comes from the water.”46 Water is
emblematic of power and renewed as the source of life, the beginning of
humanity, a human’s fi rst home and fi nal resting place, a mirror of spiritual
vibration, the source of ancestral calls, and a key component of the sacred
nature (malongo) as medicine (bilongo).47 The story of life’s origin from
water is told through the mambo literary tradition in Cuba and is recounted
here as in the words of Osvaldo Fresneda Bachiller in 1989 in the munici-
pality of Cotorro, Havana City province.
Life was a light form that traveled through the universe until it found the
surface of the earth. The light crossed the atmosphere until it arrived at
the bottom of the ocean, where it crystallized into quartz and soon petri-
fied into stone. This stone generated other forms of life and gave origin to
the power of Kongo religion.48
As in Central Africa, the water that is the source of life and power is
known as Kalûnga, more commonly called Mama Kalûnga, and is a cen-
tral concept in Kongo-Cuban cosmology. Analogous to the Yoruba God
of the ocean, Yemaya, and the Catholic saint, La Virgen de Regla, Mother
Kalûnga represents the sea.49 Kalûnga is often represented in Cuba as a
prenda, a religious object inhabited by a spirit, named Baluande, which lit-
erally means “Mother Ocean” or “Great Water.” This meaning parallels
the Central African use of the term Nsadi, or Great River, as a synonym
for Kalûnga. Alluding to its role dividing the world of the living from that
of the ancestors, kalûnga in Cuba is also conceived as Suku kia Kalûnga, a
type of spirit that represents the power of death and the abyss.
Palo Monte priests, or paleros, Osvaldo Fresneda Bachiller and Felipe
Garcia Villamil describe kalûnga as a perfect being and a fundamental prin-
ciple of life. Fresneda Bachiller describes the concept as having two com-
ponents: as Baluande, it represents the oxygen on earth and the beginning
of life; as Lugambe, kalûnga has the opposite meaning and is a destructive
force that causes everything to end and start over after death. For Kongo
descendants in Cuba, kalûnga represents the ocean as the fi rst cemetery,
the resting place of thousands of their ancestors in their journey to the
Americas. Fresneda Bachiller describes these two components of kalûnga
as operating in constant tension, opposed, yet balancing one another. Any
alteration that upsets their balance is believed to have negative effects in
nature, such as frequent natural disasters and increased abnormalities in the
weather and climate.50
Overlapping to a large degree with the concept of kalûnga in Cuba
is that of sîmbi. As in Central Africa, bisîmbi play a crucial role in the
beliefs and practices of Palo Monte and related Kongo-Cuban religions
(Palo Monte Mayombe, Palo Luango, Palo Kimbisa, and Palo Kriyumba).
Bisîmbi in Cuba take countless forms, but are most prominently thought
of as water. Frequently, one kind of sîmbi (Sîmbi dia Maza) is used inter-
changeably with kalûnga to mean the ocean, and both terms are understood
to conjure the division of the world of the living from that of the ances-
tors. Both are represented with the prenda Baluande and were used among
the slave population in Cuba as a description of the fi rst graveyard. Chola
Nguengue is another sîmbi in Cuba that is associated with water generally
and with rivers more specifically. These bisîmbi are represented by the mo-
tion of the current, pools of water inside caves, waterfalls, and stalactites.
The association of bisîmbi with the earth is also commonly expressed in
Cuba. Kikoroto is a term used to refer to a sîmbi in earth form. Kikoroto are
represented by, among other things, termite hills near water or on the plain
and earthquakes.
Defense and protection are two major functions of sîmbi spirits in Cen-
tral Africa also seen in the mythology and cosmogony of the descendants of
the Bakongo in the diaspora. Palo Kimbisa is one variation of Kongo reli-
gion in Cuba that uses a main spirit sîmbi, or water force, as bilongo (medi-
cine). Kimbisa comes from the same root verb as sîmbi, meaning “to hold,”
“to keep,” and “to preserve.”51 Kimbisa also means “human beings who
died twice and were then transformed into earth forms.”52 In Palo Monte
Mayombe, sîmbi is the ocean and is the realm that gives the protection nec-
essary for the survival of the fi rst living beings on earth.
Kongo-Cuban myths tell of Mambe, the fi rst ancestor (nkulu),53 who
flew over the country of sîmbi and offered his life, coming to represent life’s
fi rst change. In a similar story, Kuruma is the mythical warrior character
who is remembered, not for sacrifice and offering his own life, but for his
bravery in the hunt. Kuruma’s spirituality as a community member is hon-
ored and celebrated in religious practice because he represents a paradigm of
a perfect person and is used as an example of what people should aspire to
be. Together, Mambe and Kuruma represent the fi rst travelers who crossed
over the ocean, over sîmbi, and made possible other, subsequent spiritual
journeys of the Bakongo-descended people in the diaspora.
Like water, the forest plays a crucial role in Kongo religion in Cuba.
Palo Monte Mayombe takes its very name from the forest. Palo is a generic
term popularly used in Cuba to refer to the roots and trunk of a tree,
whereas el Monte translates from Spanish as “forest.” As a unit Palo Monte
signifies the strength and power of a tree in a forest. Mayombe, a Kikongo
word meaning “forest,” is added to emphasize its importance.54 True to the
name, the practitioners of Palo Monte, like their counterparts in Central
Africa, base their religious practice in the powers and energies of the trees,
plants, elements of nature, and cosmic forces. Whereas Fu-Kiau equates the
Central African Kongo notions of water and the forest and sees both as fun-
damental to life’s origin, in Palo Monte the forest is conceptualized dis-
tinctly. Rather than being viewed as the origin of life, the forest is seen as a
source of medicine necessary for life’s continued existence.
Other naming practices of religious objects in Cuba further under-
score the importance of certain concepts while also providing a genealogi-
cal map that enables us to trace the development of these objects. In Palo
Monte, religious objects are categorized by generation, with each “genera-
tion” referring to a single stage in the development of a given type of reli-

gious object. Understanding the design and use of religious objects in Palo
Monte—as well as the unique socioeconomic and political circumstances in
which they were utilized, developed, and changed over time, together with
the differences between the various generations and their conceptual under-
pinnings—enables initiated practitioners to understand their relationship to
such objects as well as the origin of and interplay between the objects that
are used in the religious house.
The fi rst generation of religious objects (prendas) that were created
(born) 55 in Cuba were called by the term root and were widely known as
Mayombe (the forest). The second generation were generally known as
“earth” (n’toto), with more specific names appearing, such as N’toto Nani,
meaning “land of mother Africa,” and N’toto Kwanza, meaning “the
Kwanza River.” The third generation of prendas were named by group or
family (nkanda), known as “tribe” in Cuban vernacular Spanish, using the
proper names of cultural groups from Central Africa, including Malongo,
Musoni, and Mayanda.56 The fourth generation of prendas began to ap-
pear around the turn of the twentieth century, and its members are named
“water” (nlangu57 or langu). Specific examples include Nzambi, Nlangu
Ntoto, Nlangu Ndundu, and Nlangu Ngongoro.58
The mythology surrounding the creation of humanity in Palo Monte is
organized around two stories. The fi rst, detailed earlier, describes the cre-
ation of the world and entails the belief, unique to the Bakongo in Cuba,
that when light created the world, humans and all other forms of life were
created. The second creation story is the story of Mambe. Mambe is believed
to be the great ancestor, the fi rst spirit to inhabit and command a prenda.59
The importance of Mambe is evident from the numerous mythical refer-
ences to his death and in the mambos used in Palo Monte initiation ritu-
als. It is in this second story that Kongo-Cuban mythology diverges most
notably from its counterpart in Central Africa. The reason for this diver-
gence appears to be a shift in emphasis on different periods in human his-
tory. In Central Africa the myth of human origin speaks of the creation of
human life as occurring later than the formation of the world. This fi rst life,
Muhungu, when created becomes both the fi rst human and the fi rst ances-
tor. In Palo Monte, however, humans appear at the same time as the earth,
but ancestors do not. In Palo Monte the second story of creation thus tells
of the fi rst ancestor. It is thought that this difference stems from a reor-
dering of history when enslaved Bakongo fi rst made prendas in Cuba. It
was with this creation, along with a need for ancestral spirits to inhabit the
newly formed prendas, that a new myth was told of the fi rst such spirit.60
Several variations of the myth of Mambe in Palo Monte have survived,
with the fi rst version recorded in the El Cotorro neighborhood of Havana:
One day Ngo was divided by the approaching death of the hamlet; when
the ancients knew the delicate news, they decided to consult with the el-
ders of the community, notable men, and the Tata Nganga 61 (priests)
of the neighboring villages, because the stability of the community de-

pended upon the life of the old guardian. After long hours of meditation
and listening to the predictions of the oracle through the Chamalongos,62
they arrived at the conclusion that what needed to be done was an of-
fering of blood from a young member of the hamlet so that Ngo would
return to life and would be able to maintain the honor, prosperity, and
safety of the hamlet, the vital power of nature, and the energy of all things
in the cosmos. When Mambe, the youngest son of Murabanda, learned
of this news, he decided to give his own life for the life of Ngo and en-
sure that the harmony of the community would be recaptured. The spirit
of Mambe, after his death, was transformed into stone, fragmented by its
grandfather Mambele in order to create the foundation for the diverse
branches of the Palo Monte system.63
For Kongo-Cubans, the great ancestor is actually represented in the

mythological figure Mambele 64 (the old witch), although over time this fig-
ure has lost much of its significance within both the oral articulation of its
meaning and within ritual experiences. The Mambele myth is part of the
Mayombe branch of the Palo Monte religion in Cuba, and Mambele has
come to represent political and spiritual authority and to be recognized
as the keeper of religious secrets. Mambele and Mambe are celebrated and
worshipped as the principal spiritual founders and guides of the religious
object (prenda) called Sarabanda, which is the only prenda that can kill.65
As told in the religious oral literature, Mambele’s functions include the per-
formance of divination exercises to broadcast the principles necessary for
maintaining balance between the community and nature.
The etymological origin of the name Mambele is undocumented, but
several possibilities exist that are consistent with the role the mythical fig-
ure played in the reorganization of the Kongo religion in the diaspora, the
importance of social and familial structures in a fractured world, and the
development of highly organized religion in which the sacrifice of animals
became central. It may have evolved from one of the oldest Kongo family
names, Ne Mabyala Vunda, in use long before the initial Kongo encounters
with the Portuguese and associated with a great paramount chief who ruled
the Vanda clan and led a migration northward from Mbanza Kongo in
northern Angola across the Congo River and into present-day Kinshasa in
the Democratic Republic of the Congo, an area populated by the Manyanga
Kikongo-speaking group.66 An alternative source of the term could be the
name of one of the three main branches of the Malele Nzaku royal family,67
which also suggests roots in a source of ancient power. Mambele may also
be derived from the Lolo group located on the northern side of the Congo
River, in what is presently the Democratic Republic of the Congo, where
it shares phonetic roots with the name of one of the greatest chiefs of the
Mazinga family, Mabenge.68 Consistent with the commonalities between
the name Mambele and the names or titles of powerful historic leaders,
the term has additional meaning in Kikongo. Mbele means “knife” and,
as modified by the prefi x ma, which can either indicate the plural form or
function as a possessive,69 Ma-Mbele may indicate one who can sacrifice or
one who can authorize hunting season or punishment by killing, such as a
paramount chief.
Another fundamental figure in the myth, marked by his ritual and lit-
erary importance, is that of Ngo,70 the leopard guardian of the community
whose role is to maintain equilibrium in the mutually protective relations
of community and nature. As part of the Kongo-Cuban triangular myth,
Ngo’s importance and metaphoric significance are exceeded by the figure of
Mambe, the principal figure of the myth whose metaphorical, conceptual,
and ritual significance is the result of his role as the human archetype, the
fi rst human. Mambe has all the ritual and symbolic attributes of the great
ancestor, Mambele, whose religious importance is emphasized only in refer-
ences to religious oral literature.
In religious liturgy, all the mythological figures participate equally in
the invocations of power within the religious practice. Only Mambe has a
double significance within the myth, and this significance is evidenced by a
mambo, or prayer, said during a feast to the spirit that acts upon the magic
recipient Nganga.71
The Garcia Villamil family of Matanzas, Cuba, tells the second widely
used version of the myth, known as Lwangu (Loango):
Lwangu72 (Loango) was the brother of Tangume who fulfi lled the func-
tion of Tata Nganga in the community. During a day of hunting, Lwangu
died fighting with a wild animal, so Tangume gathered together the com-
munity in order to choose a new Mayordomo.73 After long hours of pre-
dictions, he decided that the one who was able to capture the great leopard
of the jungle would be initiated74 as the Mayordomo of the community.
All the members of the community went in search of the great leopard,
but it was the warrior Kuruma that was able to capture the fierce animal.
The council met in a cave called Sîmbirico la Krillumba that guarded
a pot75 which contained the head of Lwangu, and here initiated Kuruma
as Mayordomo. In the moment of initiation, the spirit of Lwangu ap-
peared saying I am Sarabanda Cuye. In order to care for the path to the
Sîmbirico cave where the nkisi/nganga “Batalla Congo”76 was, the deci-
sion was made to look for the Congo Diamlunqueto77 (personal name of
a member of the religion). Afterward, the Congo Malangume78 (another
member of the religion) appeared and sanctified the foot of the Nganga,
and later, for greater security, initiated the youngest son of Tangume as
guardian of the council.79
Both versions of the myth illustrate that death and the consecration
of the spirit of death are basic components of all forms of Palo Monte.
With the deaths of Mambe and Lwangu we see the representation of the
birth of the fi rst nfumbe 80 (a Kongo ancestor who lives inside a prenda and
talks through it). The Lwangu version locates the practice of Palo Monte
in Matanzas in relation to the mythical Kongo city Lwangu, which today is

in northern Angola81—a mystical city from which all practitioners of Palo
Monte believe their ancestors come.
In Palo Monte mythology, Mambe and Lwangu are represented by
rocks, and they signify the memory of all spirits transforming into stones
at the beginning of life. At death human beings and other animals fi rst
become bones and later turn to stone. During Palo Monte initiation cer-
emonies, each person becomes the spirit of Mambe, a transformation that
represents life’s fi rst change. Through mambos, Mambe is celebrated in such
songs as “Canto de Coralillo” and proverbs such as the following mambo,
“Mambe Vivo” (Living Mambe):
Muna munan Nzambe nganga muna Nzambe

abre cutere Tata Nzambe yeto yeto llega a insulo
hocico Congo mira insulo lengua Congo llega a Nzambe
Abre munelando munanso Nzambe vensala.82
For the sign of God’s command I have prayed to

open great God’s almighty blessing
we arrive at the gates of heaven
Congo’s mouth look at the sky,
Congo speech arriving in God’s realm
God’s open door through the work of the ritual.
The death of Mambe signals the beginning of a practice of ancestor

worship. The power and souls of ancestors are honored by the fi rst sen-
tence said in every ceremony, as the priest calls the spirit, saying Mambe-Yo
(I am Mambe).83 Mambe is the fi rst spirit that is needed to make any kind
of prenda.
Mambe is also integral to the veneration of the fi rst nfumbe (ancestor),
which accompanied the fi rst plant of power; of the palo ebano (of ebony);
and of the rights of Ntubirona (the person who sacrificed Mambe). The
rights of Ntubirona are a head of a crocodile; wax; springwater; honey;
a rumandio bird; seven coconuts; twenty-one corojos (Cuban fruit); the
lightning rock (a rock representing this force); a stick of burning ebony; a
serpent; a vulture; a vulture egg; two drums with which to celebrate the
death of Mambe as a symbol of honor, courage, and goodwill; offerings
with the weapons of the most illustrious warriors; seawater, snail shells, and
ocean water as symbols of greatness and mystery; well water to symbolize
depth; land; yam; corn; and plants.
These specific practices, and the myths that inform them, are but one
small part of the complex and wide-ranging set of beliefs within which the
Bakongo understand themselves and their world. A basic comprehension
of Kongo cosmogony and moral philosophy is critical to any understand-
ing of the uses for and underlying meaning of graphic writing systems in
Central Africa and the Bakongo diaspora. Within Kongo culture, religious
beliefs cannot be separated from the tools and techniques used to under-
stand and practice these beliefs. Bakongo conceptions of the world they
inhabit inform and instruct the way they interact with that world. Graphic
writing is believed to enable the communication between the world of the
living and the departed ancestors and spiritual forces that promote healing
and assist practitioners in understanding and shaping their lives.
C H A P T E R 4
Afro-Atlantic Graphic Writing:

Bidimbu, Bisinsu, and Firmas
Kongo Graphic Writing Systems: Overview of

Character and Origins
The term graphic writing systems can be credited to Gerhard Kubik. Build-
ing on existing scholarly work on particular writing traditions that facil-
itated an awareness of graphic expression in Africa,1 Kubik was the first
scholar to study and explain in systematic terms graphic writing traditions.2
He argued that graphic writing must be understood as a “visual commu-
nication system whose constituent parts are graphemes, the smallest mean-
ingful unit in the system.”3 In the context of Kongo graphic writing, these
constituent parts include ideograms, pictograms, and cosmograms, which
can be differentiated as follows:
• Ideograms: Visual signs or abstract graphic representations of an
idea or mental image. A character or symbol representing ideas or
things without expressing a particular word or phrase for it.4
• Pictograms or pictographs: Visual signals or figurative graphic repre-
sentations that depict objects and produce mental images that give
direct access to the objects and ideas. More simply, pictures used to
represent words or ideas.5
• Cosmograms: Compounds of two conventional signs represented
using another, nonfigurative form of representation or notation of
the thought. This form of notation has the function of alluding
to knowledge with implications in the metaphysical, philosophical,
and religious realm. This kind of knowledge is known as cosmol-
ogy, reports about the origin of life, and as cosmogony, reports
about human conception and the existence of God.
In Kongo writing, these constituent graphic units have no form of inde-
pendent phonetic expression but can generally be identified by their proper
names. In addition to using ideographs, pictograms, and cosmograms as
their basic building blocks, Kongo graphic writing systems incorporate
mnemonic elements and letters from the Latin alphabet. Much like any type
of language, these components are combined in both simple and compound
sequences to convey recognizable meaning. Far more than mere collections
47
of visual signs, Kongo graphic writing systems are complex codes of shared
knowledge that develop and communicate cosmology, mythology, and phi-
losophy and defi ne aesthetic realities. They perpetuate and validate collective
memories, epics, legends, myths, and ancient knowledge and play an integral
role in the defi nition and development of African and Kongo-Caribbean
cultures and in the practice of traditional and contemporary African-based
religions. The ancient Bakongo called graphic writing Sinsu kia Nguisami, a
phrase that translates as “communication by code and symbol.” Still in use
today in many parts of Central Africa, graphic writing includes signs known
as bidimbu (symbols) and bisinsu (codes).
Although numerous scholars have studied the use and design of graphic
traditions across a range of cultures, including pre-Columbian (Mayan scrip-
ture), Asian (Chinese, Japanese, Indian, Vietnamese calligraphies), and
North African (Egyptian hieroglyphs), there is a relative dearth of academic
work that examines African graphic writing systems in great depth or in so-
cial context. The imprecision of available historical documents and the lack
of clear reference to graphic writing in Africa before the nineteenth cen-
tury result in limited solid ground on which to build a study of the role of
graphic writing in Kongo culture. Early works on the subject, such as schol-
arship by Joseph H. Greenberg, David Dalby, Lucien Lévy-Bruhl, Marcel
Mauss, Paul Rivet, Georges Balandier, J. K. MacGregor, Jacques Fédry, and
J. Lacouture, have demonstrated the diversity of graphic designs but have
neither explained the way graphic writing can be read nor imbued this tra-
dition of communication with an understanding of its religious context.
Although several contemporary writers have made reference to religious
forms and uses of minkisi and fi rmas, only a couple have begun to systemat-
ically explore the meanings and uses of these communicative forms.
The most complete references to Kongo graphic writing are found in
the works of linguist Clémentine Faïk-Nzuji, in her book Arts africains:
Signes et symboles; African art historian and anthropologist Robert Farris
Thompson, in his book The Four Moments of the Sun; and priest and philos-
opher of Kongo culture K. K. Bunseki Fu-Kiau, who has written extensively
about Kongo writing, most notably in Self-Healing Power and Therapy: Old
Teachings from Africa.
Faïk-Nzuji introduces the notion of bidimbu as a mode of expression
and graphic tradition in Central and West Africa and explores the concept
of symbol in the context of African culture and language.6 Faïk-Nzuji’s most
important contributions are her attempt to explain the semantic complex-
ity of this graphic tradition through an exploration of basic linguistic ques-
tions such as the formal structure of the graphic system and her explanation
of the manner in which graphic elements and symbols are used within the
semantic and syntactic structure. However, while her work successfully
introduces a range of forms of visual expression found among Central Afri-
can cultures, it does not adequately explore the relationship between these
communicative forms or situate them within the broader cultural context
in which they exist.
A f r o - A t l a n t i c G r a p h i c Wr i t i n g 49
Robert Farris Thompson has provided the most thorough study of

the various components of graphic writing systems. Thompson’s work ex-
plains the notion of bidimbu while exploring the implications of the devel-
opment of this tradition across forms of visual expression in the Bakongo
world in Central Africa and its extension in the Atlantic diaspora. Thomp-
son also provides substantial examples of graphic expression and documents
their interaction with and usage within religious, philosophical, artistic,
and historiographic contexts.7 The forms explored by Thompson include
early rupestrian art and graphic depictions recorded at Central African sites;
three-dimensional art forms such as funerary sculptures and terra-cotta
urns; inscriptions on religious objects, swords, canes, and domestic items;
and engravings on figures and graphic notions expressed through surface
painting, textile design, architectural decoration, and forms of body scarifi-
cation, tattoo, and body language such as poses and gestures.8
K. K. Bunseki Fu-Kiau’s detailed scholarship on the culture, religion,
and philosophy of the Bakongo provides a critical foundation for under-
standing the cosmology underlying the culture’s graphic writing. According
to Fu-Kiau, writing (soni) is a way to achieve the varied goals of communi-
cation but is itself rooted in philological and cosmological knowledge and
cannot be effectively utilized without an understanding of such knowledge.
Indeed, writing is an essential mode of codifying a person’s nature from
the moment he or she is conceived, with one type of writing believed to
transmit energy inside the womb to form ma (matter).9 Fu-Kiau has also
contributed immeasurably to the study of graphic writing through his de-
tailed descriptions of how symbols and other forms of graphic signs con-
nect to establish links and associations between rituals, institutions, and
social processes.
Kongo graphic writing systems are also found throughout the Carib-
bean as a result of three centuries of slave trade that brought memories and
beliefs to the region along with Bakongo slaves. Although rich and var-
ied graphic writing traditions are also found in Haiti, Trinidad, Jamaica,
Suriname, Brazil, and Belize, this book focuses on the origins, form, and
uses of graphic writing in Cuba, where demonstrably strong ties with past
and present Central African traditions form a critical part of complex Afro-
Cuban religious and cultural practices. Kongo-Cuban religious practice
utilizes graphic writing in a single narrative system, known as firmas (signa-
tures or ganzus), that integrates distinct written symbols and is used in con-
junction with religious objects and oral traditions.
Robert Farris Thompson was the fi rst scholar to understand and docu-
ment the manner in which multiple forms of visual communication relate
to one another within a single cultural system. His initial study of the ways
various graphic forms were and are used by practitioners of Kongo religions
in both Central Africa and the Caribbean has been instrumental in estab-
lishing links across time and space.
The additional research presented here seeks to continue Thompson’s
work and aims to create a more complete and detailed understanding of
Kongo systems of graphic communication on both sides of the Atlantic. An

examination of the historical roots of such communication modes is fol-
lowed by an exploration and detailed examination of the ways graphic writ-
ing systems are used and understood among modern Bakongo in Central
Africa and a parallel investigation of the fi rma system used widely in con-
temporary Cuba.
ancient memory: rUpeStrian art in centraL africa

Any discussion of the uses of written symbols among the Bakongo in the
present and recent past would be incomplete without an understanding of
the historical origin of these communicative marks. The earliest evidence of
Kongo graphic writing is found in multiple archaeological sites around the
border between Angola and the Democratic Republic of the Congo, an area
that covers close to two hundred kilometers. The cave system in this region
is known as Lovo and is located in the Macizo Calcario of Christ mountains.
The archaeological site starts in the north of Kimpese province in the Dem-
ocratic Republic of the Congo and extends south into the Zaire province
of Angola, ending in the city of Mbanza Kongo, the former capital of the
Kongo kingdom (see Figure 3).
The rupestrian designs found in the Lovo complex were the fi rst visual
evidence of graphic communication in the region and were recorded by
Paul Raymaekers and Hendrik van Moorsel in their work “Lovo: Dessins
rupestres du Bas-Congo,” published in 1963. Their catalog of signs and
symbols included numerous features that have allowed for ongoing study of
the signs’ diversity, their use in space, and a comparison of types and forms
of signs across locations. Raymaekers and van Moorsel’s pioneering work
has been complemented by that of Carlos Ervedosa, José Redinha, Henri
Breuil, and G. Mortelmans, each of whom identified additional archaeolog-
ical sites and documented symbols at multiple Central African rupestrian
locations. Invaluable for their collected material, these initial publications
on the graphic tradition evidenced in the caves did not, however, attempt to
decode the meanings of the signs or investigate their usage in and beyond
the sites; nor did they explore a wider range of past and present Kongo cul-
tural practices in Central Africa or the Caribbean.
Around the same time that Raymaekers and van Moorsel were con-
ducting their work on rupestrian art in Central Africa, Marcel Griaule was
documenting and examining rupestrian signs in West Africa as part of his
detailed work with the Dogon. Le renard pâle (The Pale Fox), which Gri-
aule published in collaboration with G. Dieterlen, catalogs a large num-
ber of rupestrian signs and symbols and explores the Dogon notion of the
cosmos and its interplay with oral history and religious practices.10 As dis-
cussed in Chapter 1, Griaule’s sweeping work was groundbreaking inso-
far as it reflected fi ndings from extensive fieldwork and went beyond mere
documentation of rupestrian signs and other forms of visual expression to
explore the cosmogony underlying and expressed through such forms as
K e y:
1 lovo
2 Kiantapo
3 Caninguiri
4 Tchitundo-hulo
f i g U r e 3 map of rupestrian art sites throughout angola and the

democratic republic of Congo. (adapted by the author from a publication
by manuel Jordan, 1996.)
well as the manner in which graphic expression was part of the very founda-
tion of Dogon cultural principles.
More recently, Fu-Kiau and Thompson built on the work of the ear-
lier scholars documenting rupestrian signs in the Kongo region and made
the fi rst attempts to understand their meanings and explore their relation-
ship with and implications for the study of Kongo morality, philosophy, and
religion. Both authors argue that the rupestrian signs represent the early
history of present-day Kongo graphic expression, but Fu-Kiau contextual-
izes the signs within the Kongo cultural system and uses religious beliefs
and moral philosophy to distinguish between them while Thompson situ-
ates his analysis of the rupestrian signs within a study of art, viewing their
use in a plural system of graphic codification and aesthetic form. Impor-
tantly, Thompson also attempts to link the symbols to present-day signs
used in the Bakongo diaspora. A more detailed comparison across the rup-
estrian symbols documented at Lovo and other regional sites and between
such images and varied forms of contemporary graphic communication fur-
ther highlights their similarities in form and function and traces the devel-
opment of this Kongo language form.
Geometric shapes figure heavily in the designs documented in Lovo,
leading Thompson to characterize the graphic expression as “geometric of
the spirit.”11 As seen in Figure 4, the designs encompass a range of geomet-
ric forms and features, including squares, rectangles, and circles; straight,
convex, and concave lines; and notched, serrated, rounded, and pointed
shapes. These geometric forms and the composition style that dominates at
Lovo are also seen in the decoration of ceramic work unearthed around this
same area and, as discussed later in this chapter, across a variety of graphic
expressions documented in the Mbanza Kongo region in the present day.12
Unfortunately, given the importance of the link these paintings repre-
sent in the history of Central African graphic writing systems, precise in-
formation on their age is unavailable. Raymaekers and van Moorsel noted
aesthetic parallels between the Lovo drawings and cave paintings in Alta-
mira, Spain, that date back approximately twenty thousand years, but no
tests have been conducted to corroborate or disprove such speculative age.
Raymaekers and van Moorsel also argue that the Lovo drawings were made
during the evangelization of the Kongo kingdom, which began with the
conversion of the Mani Kongo Nzinga a Mvemba (Nkuvu) and his wife
in 1491 and continued with the role of their son Mvemba a Nzinga I
(1507–1542).13 To support this argument, the authors reference multiple
fragments of ceramic unearthed at the Lovo site during archaeological ex-
cavations that scientific testing dates to around A.D. 1600.14 Archaeologists
have noted the existence of burial yards containing ceramic remnants, pre-
sumably of funerary character,15 similar to those found at rupestrian sites
in Angola and the Democratic Republic of the Congo, which indicates that
further study of the objects encountered in and around the Lovo caves will
be a critical component of any investigation into the history of the rupes-
f i g U r e 4 lovo rupestrian painting. (adapted by the author from paul raymaekers and
hendrik van moorsel, “lovo: dessins rupestres du Bas-Congo,” Ngonge, Carnets de sciences
humaines, nos. 12, 13, and 14 [léopoldville, 1962]. image courtesy of paul raymaekers/
hendrik van moorsel.)
trian sites and the role they played for the region’s people. Scientific dating
of other rupestrian sites in Angola discussed in this chapter may provide
some insight into Lovo’s history, but even with the lack of proof of the age
of the rupestrian drawings in Central Africa, their antiquity is undoubted.
More importantly, as discussed later in this chapter, the deep history of
these drawings can be directly connected to symbols that today form part
of a complex system of graphic communication that is informed by Ba-
kongo religious beliefs and moral philosophy.
Before focusing on the actual symbols found in Lovo and more recently
cataloged sites in its immediate vicinity discussed later in this chapter, it is
worth exploring briefly the similarities between these symbols and paint-
ings and carvings discovered in southern Angola and the southern Demo-
cratic Republic of the Congo. Principal sites include Tchitundo-Hulo and
Caninguiri in southern Angola and Kiantapo in the Democratic Republic
of the Congo.
The sites in southern Angola have been dated more precisely than their
northern counterparts, with the Caninguiri drawings found in the Alto
Zambezi zone in southeastern Angola believed to be 7,840 ± 80 years old
and those documented at Tchitundo-Hulo believed to be 2,596 ± 53 years
old, perhaps indicating the time period during which production of rupes-
trian art began to be widespread in Central Africa.16
More importantly, the sites in southern Angola demonstrate continu-
ity with the Lovo site in the subject matter that is portrayed, the relational
positioning of visual vocabulary, and the manner in which the drawings
are conceptualized. For example, all three sets of images contain numer-
ous depictions of figures striking poses and making gestures. The common-
alties in the gestures themselves are informative, as is the common theme
and apparent importance ascribed to body language, an importance that
continues in contemporary Kongo communities, as detailed in Chapter 3.
Another critical area of overlap between the images documented across the
different cave sites is the utilization of single, contained signs as well as
groupings of integrated images that combine different types of communica-
tive elements or linguistic components in the same frame.
The symbols documented at Kiantapo in the southern Democratic Re-
public of the Congo also share important aesthetic traits with those re-
corded at Lovo. Several signs involve arrows indicating directions; others
appear to involve planetary symbols; and the designs at Lovo and Kian-
tapo both contain numerous animal and human images. The primary dif-
ference between the two is the mode of composition: in Lovo the symbols
are drawn with steady solid lines and are painted on the cave wall, whereas
many of those in Kiantapo are created using dotted lines carved into the
stone surface, as seen in Figure 5.
Table 1 compares a wider range of key symbols found in Lovo, Tchi-
tundo-Hulo, and Kiantapo.
Except for Lovo and selected sites in the south of Angola, Central Afri-
can rock art has rarely been incorporated into the broader discussion of
African prehistory, colonial history, and postcolonial history, and no recent
works have been published that document new sites, explore the historic
functions of rock art, or investigate its present and historical relationship
with religious and cultural practices in or beyond Central Africa. The lack
of recent documentation of and research into rock painting and carving in
f i g U r e 5 rupestrian painting from the Kiantapo site, democratic republic of the

Congo. (adapted by the author from henri Breuil and G. mortelmans, Les figures incisées
et ponctuées de la grotte de Kiantapo [Brussels: Tervuren, 1952]. image courtesy of
henri Breuil.)
Angola is arguably attributable at least in part to the lack of access to the

region during its extended fi fty-year civil war, to the logistical and techni-
cal difficulties associated with reaching the sites and conducting high-level
visual and sound recordings, and to significant cultural barriers to entry
throughout the region.
ta b L e 1 Comparison of a wide range of key symbols found in lovo (luvo),

Tchitundo-hulo, and Kiantapo
Lovo tchitundo-hulo Kiantapo

(paul raymaekers) (carlos ervedosa) (henri breuil)
ta b L e 1 (continued)

(continued on next page)



Despite these challenges, research conducted over the course of several

extended trips undertaken since 2002 throughout the Mbanza Kongo-Kin-
shasa area of northern Angola has succeeded in the gathering of additional
physical evidence of past graphic writing and documentation of present-day
use of graphic communication by the Bakongo. Multiple previously unre-
corded rupestrian sites in the region have been identified and documented,
each containing large quantities of rock carvings and paintings that appear
to be dated primarily before the twentieth century. These sites contain
clearly identifiable symbols that are markedly similar in form and style to
both rupestrian art documented elsewhere in Central Africa and symbols
documented in contemporary use. For example, selected geometric shapes
and repeated patterns found at the sites are replicated in contemporary reli-
gious markings, pottery and textile designs, architectural details, and tomb
designs, as explored in more detail in this chapter and the next.
Table 2 tracks, by principal site, the motifs documented in the region
between 2005 and 2007.17 The numbers represent the approximate count
of given motifs recorded in situ.
The site shown in Figure 6, known as Tadi dia Mfuakumbi, or the
“First Engraving,” illustrates an unrivaled fusion of form, aesthetics, and
ta b L e 2 Fifteen categories of representations documented in mbanza Kongo rock-painting sites

between 2005 and 2007 and the number of each category at each site
ne- mfua- nvila- Lu-

motif description mongo kumbi tezua Lovo ntuta yidi kingu
Anthropomorphic
anthropomorphic The human figure is 4 25 1 4 1
represented in its entirety
Fragmentary Only a portion of a human 2 12 2 1
anthropomorphic figure is depicted, e.g.,
torso, headless figure
human foot The figure depicts the 5
human foot, positive or
negative image
Zoomorphic
mammalian figure The figure seemingly
represents a mammal 18 2
mammalian “tracks” The foot (or feet) of a
mammal is represented
Bird figures The figure seemingly 2 6 2 1
represents a bird
Bird “tracks” The foot (or feet) of a bird 2 2
is represented
reptilian figures The depiction suggests 3 6 6
a reptile, e.g., snake, lizard
Geometric;
Body Ornaments;
Incised Stones,
Bowls, and Tools;
Architectural
Decorations
rectilinear nonrepresentational figures 15 23 17 3
characterized by straight
lines; formed or bounded
by straight lines
Curvilinear nonrepresentational figures 1 25 37 14 5
consisting of or bounded
by curved lines
Concentric Figures having a common 18 30 27 12 2
center or common axis,
e.g., circle, spiral
abstract geometric motifs or outlines that are 50 9 40 40 28 3
characterized by both
straight and curved lines but
that bear no resemblance to
natural form
ne- mfua- nvila- Lu-

motif description mongo kumbi tezua Lovo ntuta yidi kingu
Narratives,
Dancing Scenes,
Painting,
Drawing
simple composition The depiction is charac- 12 12 5 13 2
terized by a combination
of a few figures and signs
as part of a whole
Complex narratives The depiction is charac- 6 17 3 8
terized by an elaborate
combination of figures
and signs in order to
suggest a story or storyline
palimpsests motifs or outlines that 3 2 2 3 2 2
are characterized by
being redrawn over a
previous form
f i g U r e 6 Tadi dia mfuakumbi, angola, 2004.

subject matter and is one of the most complex and well-preserved sites doc-
umented. The images and signs depict numerous Bakongo concepts and are
best described as the material expressions of local oral traditions, including
proverbs, songs, and funeral and wedding chants. For example, an abstract
depiction of the dikenga cross at Tadi dia Mfuakumbi represents the order
of things in the cosmos and the human world and symbolizes the soul. It
is further understood to refer to the proverb “Where it is closed, it cannot
be opened.”18
The location of the Tadi dia Mfuakumbi site is itself culturally signifi-
cant; the site is associated with a local myth that tells of
a young couple a long time ago who liked to swim in the river. Soon after
they were married, they went to the river to celebrate the almighty union.
The village elders learned during the traditional council that the couple
must die in order to honor the spirit who empowered the river. There was
a specific Sîmbi spirit that controlled the river who had requested these
young lives in an appearance in the dreams of the village chief. Accord-
ing to the village priest, the couple had to drown themselves in the water
as a gift to this Sîmbi spirit, but they would later be honored and remem-
bered for their sacrifice and would return in the afterlife as manifestations
of yisimbi themselves.19
The iconography documented at Tadi dia Mfuakumbi is varied, and,

although certain elements—such as the depiction of the human body using
diamond shapes and the depiction of eyes in the form of coffee beans to sig-
nify clairvoyance—are unique and appear somewhat idiosyncratic, many of
the designs demonstrate significant parallels with other depictions in the
area. The images contain several types of iconic motifs that can be catego-
rized into groups of abstract, zoomorphic, and anthropomorphic motifs,
comprising geometric shapes, animals, and humans, respectively. In addi-
tion to such distinct motifs, the Mfuakumbi carvings use an iconic narra-
tive to encode a miscellany of overlaid, superimposed signs and symbols
to allude to a set of key themes central to Bakongo religion, including cre-
ation, nature, the environment, life, death, hunting, and rites of passage.
Mfinda a Ntuta is another prime example of newly documented rock
art, capable of invigorating a discourse on religious meaning, cultural leg-
acy, communication, and literacy among the Bakongo as expressed through
graphic writing practices. The vast number of examples of graphic writing
present at this single site show the breadth and depth of visual forms used in
a ritual context, illustrate a consistency in form with examples documented
at other Central African sites, and suggest that the same site was used and
reused by the local religious community over a significant period of time.
In addition to being central to a contemporary study of past and pres-
ent uses of graphic writing among the Bakongo, these sites continue to
be of material cultural and spiritual significance to the local communities
where they are found. Figure 7 shows the performance at the mouth of the
Nemongo cave of a libation necessary to authorize entry to the site and a
f i g U r e 7 miguel moises at the mouth of the nemongo cave performing the libation
necessary to authorize the proposed research. right in front of miguel moises is clearly
visible an example of the graphic form depicting a dikenga cosmogram made out of
kaolin (luvenva). palm wine and cola for the libation were critical components of the
performance used to call the spirit of moises’s uncle during my visit to the site. The
dikenga cosmogram is the most frequently observed symbol in Central africa. Tadi dia
nemongo site, angola, 2004.
similar ceremony over a clear example of the dikenga sign (discussed in the
next section).
Sites also continue to be used by initiation societies active in and around
the Mbanza Kongo area, with signs indicating certain societies depicted in
various locations. For example, the flower symbol pictured in the Mfi nda a
Ntuta site (Figure 8) is the emblem of the Lemba society and is frequently
depicted on a range of objects used by and symbolic of its membership.20
f i g U r e 8 luvunisa (contradict), emblem

of the lemba initiatory society. mfinda a ntuta
site, angola, 2005.
Many of the signs carved into rupestrian sites documented near Mbanza
Kongo represent local proverbs and form part of a broader fabric of oral tra-
ditions and local religious practices. Two clear concepts in graphic writing,
inventory, and complex narrative are visible in the rupestrian sites and cor-
respond to two phases in the development of Kongo culture. The building
of inventory was the pooling by Bantu agricultural settlers of visual tools
for conveying meaning in early rupestrian sites. In addition to the simple
pooling of symbols, the gathering and organizing of visual concepts facil-
itated the development of complex iconic narratives, which in turn played
an essential role in the religious cognition and further organization of soci-
ety through the extended family, the creation of specialized societies, and
the later formation of the Kongo organizational hierarchies. The location
of the graphic writing at specific, presumably strategic sites in the rain for-
est, gallery forest, and savanna highlights the central role of graphic writing
in early Bantu cultural and social organization and suggests the impor-
tance of such sites to the Bantu of the region, and it may indicate potential
migratory routes. The use of increasingly complex graphic expression rep-
resented a communication breakthrough and required a more significant
degree of coordination and contextualization. Its fi rst stage required a con-
ceptual leap that permitted users to connect a common set of abstract and
pictographic representations to a unique meaning grounded in Kongo cul-
tural principles. The distinct geometric and pictographic signs and symbols
were later contextualized in a broader visual narrative that incorporated the
objects and ritual practices discussed elsewhere in this book.
The examples shown in Figures 9 through 21 are representative of the
manner in which the symbols depicted both incorporate and reference ele-
ments from such traditions and highlight the richness of meanings embed-
ded in and conveyed by graphic writing. Although precise dating of the
specific sites has not been done, the choice of signs, along with the knowl-
edge regarding their meanings among members of the community, speaks
to a continuity in understanding and use of the practice as a mode of com-
municating community concerns and cultural lessons.
Other scholars interested in the social and historical context surround-
ing the production of rupestrian art have explored alternative theories to
explain the use and meaning of documented signs and symbols. David
Lewis-Williams and Thomas Dowson, in connection with their work on
rock art in southern Africa, have posited that geometric motifs found across
a range of rupestrian sites are representations of images seen in the dis-
sociative state of a divinatory or similar trance. Although such a thesis is
intriguing and can be helpful in understanding basic prehistoric human
biology, I believe that this notion of an “altered state of consciousness” is
limited insofar as it makes a generalized assertion that all humans can and
will understand the specific meanings of early rock painting iconography
in the same manner because we share the same basic biology and brain cir-
cuitry. Furthermore, an inquiry into Kongo culture in Central Africa and
the diaspora requires an understanding of the process of cognition and the
f i g U r e 9 “Tuna mvovela lendo lua nzambi” is

a proverb meaning, “We are talking about God’s
power.” The double arrow indicates masculinity,
lightning, fecundity, and power. The northeast
direction of the arrow symbolizes ascent to the
ancestral realm and communication with those
responsible for bringing fertility and healing rain.
The double arrow signifies the transcendence of
an earthly state during the initiation rite. Tadi dia
mfuakumbi site, angola, 2004.
f i g U r e 10 “vena owu kevakadi owu ko” is a

proverb meaning, “Where it is closed, it cannot
be opened.” The cross represents the order of
things in the cosmos and the human world and
symbolizes the soul. Tadi dia mfuakumbi site,
angola, 2004.
f i g U r e 11 Zoomorphic motif.
“O nsusu vokelaya nga makiko ngola
negola” is a proverb meaning, “The
hen that does not warm up its eggs
will lose its chicks.” Tadi dia mfuakumbi
site, angola, 2004.
f i g U r e 12 anthropomorphic motif. “disu

muna disu, mena muna meno.” Traditional law
(nsiku) and system for justice (ndembo). Tadi dia
mfuakumbi site, angola, 2004.
f i g U r e 13 “mvu ke mvu mia nkundalala” is f i g U r e 14 “Wanda wa lufua” is a proverb

a proverb meaning, “years of glory have forever meaning, “We all face death.” mfinda a ntuta site,
passed.” mfinda a ntuta site, angola, 2005. angola, 2005.
f i g U r e 15 Wanda: the cosmos, f i g U r e 16 “vena o mbuta vena mpe a nlenke

universe, and world. mfinda a ntuta vena mpe diadi o yalanga” is a proverb meaning,
site, angola, 2005. “Where are adults, are children.” mfinda a ntuta
site, angola, 2005.
17 18 19
f i g U r e S 17–19 17: “nduakilu za mbote,” Welcome and hospitality. 18: The universe is just one,
everything is connected. 19: Futumuka, resurrection. mfinda a ntuta site, angola, 2005.
f i g U r e 2 0 an iconic motif: “ndiata a lunwenya” is a proverb meaning, “Warning sign;

wisdom.” Tadi dia lukingu site, angola. (drawing in situ by Bárbaro martínez-ruiz, 2006.)
f i g U r e 21 The triangle that joins the right edge of the ladder represents the
ancestors in relation to the family. The ladder represents a family or a family’s history.
The ladder represents people. Tadi dia lukingu site, angola. (drawing in situ by Bárbaro
martínez-ruiz, 2006.)
mechanics of writing that is not addressed by Lewis-Williams and Dowson.

More useful than a generalization about altered consciousness is an expla-
nation focused on the nature of graphic forms and on how humans acquire,
produce, and use knowledge and a study of the emancipatory political and
cultural functions associated with writing in a society faced with a hege-
monic cultural system. Although there is no defi nitive way of knowing how
symbols were originally designed or where early rupestrian artists got their
inspiration from, and although divinatory practices involving dissociation
are an important part of traditional religious practice, the clear continuity

of designs across Bakongo sites and with symbols used in a range of other
religious and cultural practices argues for the existence of a more complex
and cognizant process underlying the development and continued use of
the most prominent rupestrian signs.
the almighty dikenga
The most powerful example of the graphic continuity between the Lovo
paintings, the engravings at the newly documented sites, and contemporary
symbol usage among the Bakongo in Central Africa and their descendants
in Cuba is the frequent appearance of dikenga. Dikenga is a cosmogram
considered crucial to Kongo cosmology in that it represents the conception
of all living beings in the universe.21 In addition, dikenga is itself believed
and understood to be the energy of the universe, the force of all existence
and creation.
The basic graphic structure of dikenga is four cardinal points at the tips
of two lines arranged in cross formation, similar to a compass. The tremen-
dous diversity in the documented representations of dikenga illustrates sub-
stantial design flexibility, but the consistent inclusion of the cosmogram’s
basic principles confi rms the central meaning and use of the cosmogram.
Fu-Kiau highlights the diversity in representations of dikenga in Figure 22.
Like Fu-Kiau, Thompson has illustrated a range of dikenga represen-
tations, as seen in Figure 23. Thompson perceptively includes a diamond-
shaped dikenga, arguing that the dikenga’s meaning is maintained with or
without dots in the corners and holds constant whether depicted in cross,
circle, or diamond form. In Kongo culture, the diamond shape is used to
signify Nzambi Mpungo, God, and is used as the heart of sacred objects.22
f i g U r e 2 2 Bunseki Fu-Kiau series of signs. (adapted by the author from K. K. Bunseki

Fu-Kiau, Cosmogonie Congo [Kinshasa: Onrd, 1969].)
f i g U r e 2 3 robert Farris Thompson series of signs. (adapted by the author from

robert Farris Thompson, The Four Moments of the Sun [Washington, dC: national Gallery
of art, 1981]. image courtesy of robert Farris Thompson.)
24 25 26 27
f i g U r e S 2 4 –27 dikenga and yowa crosses. (adapted by the author from

K. K. Bunseki Fu-Kiau, Cosmogonie Congo [Kinshasa: Onrd, 1969].)
Dikenga is often shown in a form more similar to that of a traditional

Christian cross. In such a form, it is called yowa or kilisu, and is most often
used in the context of initiation rituals. For example, individuals initiated
into the Bakongo Lemba society generally wear a yowa to indicate their
membership. Although they maintain the basic meaning of dikenga, yowa
cosmograms tend to be understood as closer to the Western crucifi x, a ten-
dency resulting from syncretic religious practices in Central Africa.23 The
examples seen in Figures 24 through 27 were documented by Fu-Kiau in
the southern Democratic Republic of the Congo.
Bakongo culture ascribes to each cardinal point of the dikenga cos-
mogram an ontological meaning that symbolizes a segment of the broader
transition between various stages of life. The four points of dikenga tell of a
journey of the community’s accumulation, interpretation, and transmission
of knowledge. The cosmogram represents each human as “a living sun”24
and marks the phases through which individuals progress as they develop a
conscience, take on responsibility, and assume a sense of belonging to reli-
gious, political, cultural, familial, and national communities. Faïk-Nzuji’s
work among the Luba-Kasai people echoes this representation, describing
dikenga as illustrative of life’s principles as seen through the biological, psy-
chological, and spiritual journey of a human life.25
In the form of a circle, the points of the cosmogram will be read coun-
terclockwise, beginning at the bottom, the southernmost point on the
dikenga. The counterclockwise motion represents a rising in the east and
a movement toward the west, then back again. Fu-Kiau explains that the
counterclockwise motion is believed by religious practitioners in Mbanza
Kongo to indicate the path the living take to meet their ancestors.
As described by Fu-Kiau, the southern cardinal point indicates not
birth but the moment of conception of a child or the beginning of a per-
son in the community. Like a sunrise, it illuminates human life, recognizes
the power of fertility, and symbolizes the moment of entering the world of
the living and exchanging power with the ancestors in nature. The eastern
cardinal point symbolizes the beginning of an individual’s transformation
into a full member of society through the learning of social rules and the
accepting of responsibility within the family and community. The north-
ern cardinal point stands for the transformation of accumulated experience
into intellectual power facilitated by interaction between the individual and

other members of the community. Finally, the western cardinal point rep-
resents the transmission of society’s accumulated critical knowledge to the
younger generation, the moment of departure, comprehension, and under-
standing.26 Dikenga’s four points are also recognized by and incorporated
into religious practices in present-day Mbanza Kongo: the southern point
is called ngutuka, which means “to be born”; the eastern point, kindende,
which represents adolescence; the northern point, nvuta, which means
adulthood; and the fourth position, vunda, which means “to rest” and im-
plies the moment of death.27
The circular motion through the four points is repetitive, implying
both a transition beyond death to another stage and the continued involve-
ment of the ancestors with the ongoing cycle of life. A similar cyclical con-
cept of life and regeneration is expressed in a Kongo proverb that states,
“We are leaves in the tree of the human race.”28 Dikenga’s allusion to the
principal stages of life makes it an ideal sign to mark or otherwise signify
the passing from one stage to another; hence it is frequently used in Kongo
tomb decoration.
Fu-Kiau expands on the understanding of each of dikenga’s positions as
stages in the journey of human life by comparing them to the path taken by
the sun, stating that “the way of the sun is without end around the world,
the life of the human is another sun in his outline.”29 Because the sun rep-
resents Nzambi Mpungo, or God, this metaphor is particularly powerful
and confi rms the importance of the dikenga in Bakongo culture. The four
suns that correspond to the cosmogram’s cardinal points and their symbolic
meanings and associated colors are as follows:
1. Musoni sun (yellow sun)—sun of perfection

2. Kala sun (black sun)—sun of vitality
3. Tukula sun (red sun)—sun of warning (danger)
4. Luvemba sun (gray/white sun)—sun of death and change
The core signs that build on the dikenga cosmogram are Sînsu kian-
gudi kia nza-kongo,30 described as the general symbol of Kongo cosmog-
ony, and Dingo-dingo dia Luzîngu,31 which represents life’s spiral motion
and the manner in which a “human being’s life is a continuous process of
transformation, of going around and around” and “being in continuous
motion through the four stages of balance between a vertical force and hor-
izontal force.”32
Thompson, in Faces of the Gods, explains the meaning of dikenga in
terms similar to those used by Fu-Kiau. Describing its function in moral
and philosophical terms, Thompson writes that dikenga
charts the soul’s timeless voyage. Soul cycles as a star in heaven. To the Ba-
kongo it is a shining circle, a miniature of the sun. [Dikenga marks] the
sun’s four moments—dawn, noon, sunset, and midnight (when it’s shining
in the other world)—by small circles at the end of each arm of the cross,
mirroring the immortal progress of the soul: birth, full strength, fading,
renaissance. The four corners of a diamond tell the same sequence.33
For Thompson, the dikenga sign tracks the “Bakongo geometry of

spirit,” using circles, diamonds, spirals, and crosses to portray spiritual fl ight
across each corner of the world.34 This discussion of dikenga highlights the
function of the graphic form as a foundation of the Bakongo cultural sys-
tem and, by indicating that the graphic form is more than mere decoration,
alludes to its importance in linking communicative structures, art, religious
expression, and philosophy.
The dikenga cosmogram is defi ned largely by two important elements
of its design, the intersecting lines, kalûnga and mukula,35 and the cosmo-
gram cannot be fully understood without a discussion of their meaning.
Kalûnga is the horizontal line stretching from east to west. As discussed in
greater detail in Chapter 3, kalûnga plays a complex yet fundamental role in
Bakongo cosmology and cosmogony. It is the energy that is believed to have
created all life, the boundary that divides this world from that of the ances-
tors, a source of power, a sensation of movement, and an agent for spiritual
cleansing. Although this entire broad and multilayered concept is contained
within the horizontal line of dikenga’s cross, different components of its
meaning are emphasized depending on the context and manner in which
the cosmogram is used. For example, when the dikenga sign is used to
indicate a family unit, the kalûnga line merely signifies the union between
husband and wife, whereas when dikenga is used in divination, kalûnga rep-
resents the division between the realms of the living and the dead. Refer-
ring to the Bakongo creation myth in which the kalûnga force creates the
world out of the emptiness, Fu-Kiau explains the force’s depiction and role
in dikenga as a line or space of emptiness. The Kongo conception of emp-
tiness is vastly different from Western understandings of the term in that
the Kongo believe that it is in the so-called emptiness that the spirits reside.
While empty of physical human life, such space is full of energy and spir-
itual forces so that “man’s life is surrounded by diverse forces and waves
which govern it.”36
Vertically intersecting kalûnga in the dikenga cosmogram is the mu-
kula line. Mukula means “to grow” and “[to gain a] full understanding of
the principles of life or living (N’kîngu miazîngila), principles that could as-
sist in keeping [life’s] potential power and passing it on safely to one’s off-
spring.”37 These principles are taught by ancestors and transferred along
mukula, traveling upward to the land of the living. Mukula is understood in
Palo Monte as “the axis of time” and can be described as the corridor of the
spirits, a pathway that is used by the ancestors to cross the land of the dead
and assist their beloved people over Kalûnga.38 The junction where these
two lines cross is called muntu ya kuluzu, which means “to grow up in the
cross,”39 and is believed to represent a unique personal identity for each in-
dividual, signifying such an individual’s destiny in life.40
dikenga in cuba: the circle of new Life
The dikenga cosmogram and the complex set of meanings it conveys also
play a central role in Kongo-descended religious and cultural practices in
Cuba, where it is known as nkuyu and is referred to by Palo Monte practition-
ers as “the abstract thing from Congo.”41 It is used to depict the belief in
powerful spirits of nature and to represent cosmological elements, and, like
dikenga in Africa, nkuyu is itself understood to be a spiritual force. It is a
manifestation of the power of creation and the energy of the universe, thus
becoming the ultimate affi rmation of God, the ancestors, and other spiri-
tual forces. The term nkuyu itself comes from Kikongo, although its precise
etymological origin and meaning are unclear. Laman describes nkuyu as a
kind of nkisi among the Bembe and neighboring cultures and writes that
the term nkuyu is generally used to refer to “the spirit of a deceased person
that has been captured and incorporated into a sculpture.”42
Nkuyu has similarly been associated with an nkisi in Cuba, with Lydia
Cabrera describing an nkuyu as “a wooden doll of about sixty centimeters
into which the priest makes the spirit enter.”43 Cabrera notes that the main
function of nkuyu in Palo Monte is to protect the worshiper, but recognizes
that other forces intervene in the religious performance.44 Describing a sim-
ple cosmogram, Cabrera writes, “The circle signifies security. In the cen-
ter of the circle, the cross is the power; the power of all the spiritual powers
called by the priest (nganga).”45
Building on references provided by Fernando Ortiz in the early 1950s,
Wyatt MacGaffey writes about dikenga in Cuba: “Across the Atlantic,
Kongo ritual experts in Cuba represent the cosmos as a circle divided into
four segments by a cross inscribed in it.”46 MacGaffey’s account is consis-
tent with those of other scholars and experts on Cuba, including Cabrera,
Argeliers León, and Thompson. It is also confi rmed by Palo Monte priests
Fresneda Bachiller and Garcia Villamil, who describe contemporary styles
of nkuyu depiction. Whereas the basic form is the circle and cross, shown
in Figure 36, numerous design modifications are made that add fi nesse or
detail to the cosmogram in different contexts, as explored in further detail
later in this chapter.
The circular shape of nkuyu is significant insofar as a circle is a par-
ticularly meaningful sign in Palo Monte; it is most closely associated with
the world of the ancestors. It symbolizes protection, time, perfection, the
receipt of energy, balance and existence, and the realm of initiation. Like
dikenga, the circle is the pathway through which spiritual fl ight crosses the
frontier that divides the living from the dead. For this reason, nkuyu is
also known by the term lucero, which means “star” or “circle of new life.”
The lucero is believed to be a gateway through which change occurs, and
it is used within the religion to represent the crossing from one world to
another and the beginning of a new life.47
Like their counterparts in Angola, graves in Cuban cemeteries display
numerous depictions of dikenga to mark the passage from one world to the
next. The use of dikenga at grave sites has also been recorded in other parts
of the Americas. Robert Farris Thompson writes about the grave-marking
tradition in the southern United States in Faces of the Gods. He specifically
references African American graves in Virginia, Florida, and southwestern
Mississippi, writing:
The circle of the soul around the interesting worlds—the rhetorical point
of the Kongo cosmogram (dikenga, “the tuning”)—echoes throughout
the black Americas. The circle is “written” in a curved length of green
garden hose on a headstone in black Austin and echoed by other exam-
ples. Another instance of cryptic sparking of the soul and continuity, with
an image of the sun in motion, is an object-studded inner garden built
around a cedar tree.48
The cross within the lucero’s circle maps the forces of the universe,
dividing the space into four parts that represent the cosmos, nature, the
atmosphere, and humans and human creation. The four positions them-
selves are symbols of power: the north represents God or the almighty
forces of creation; the south represents animals; the east represents plants
and trees; and the west represents minerals.49 These positions are collec-
tively called “The Four Winds” by Fresneda Bachiller and Garcia Villamil,
who describe the unity of the four parts as responsible for the creation of all
existence and describe the parts collectively as the principles of the universe.
As noted earlier, while the circle and cross form the basic structure of
the lucero, a wide range of different designs have been documented as being
used across Cuba. The fourteen examples in Figures 28 through 41, drawn
by Fresneda Bachiller and Garcia Villamil over the past two decades, illus-
trate this range.
28 29 30 31
32 33 34 35
f i g U r e S 2 8 –35 Circle-of-new-life signs in the palo monte religion in Cuba. (From

Bárbaro martínez-ruiz, personal collection, 1988.)
36 37 38
39 40 41
f i g U r e S 3 6 – 41 more circle-of-new-life signs in the palo monte religion in Cuba.

(From Bárbaro martínez-ruiz, personal collection, 1988.)
In Palo Monte, the lucero is always used in practice in conjunction with

a spiritual force. In Cuba each religious object (prenda) needs a lucero in
order to function. It is the lucero that gives the spirit inhabiting the prenda
the ability to travel and communicate with other forces and Palo practi-
tioners. The lucero is described as a guiding light, the eyes of the pren-
da’s spirit. To be guided in this way, all prendas must physically sit on a
depiction of the lucero. Cabrera describes this arrangement, writing, “The
Prenda sits on a circle that represents the ocean (Kalûnga). In the middle,
another circle is the earth. The cross is the ‘four winds.’”50 Figures 42 and
43 show two examples of luceros on altars documented, respectively, by
Fresneda Bachiller in the Cotorro municipality in Cuba, 2000, and by Gar-
cia Villamil in Los Angeles, California, 2001.
While all functioning prendas must sit on a lucero cosmogram, not all
luceros are used for such purpose. Instead, they are employed in a wide
variety of contexts for a range of purposes. In the fourteen examples in
Figures 28 through 41, the modification of the design reflects the cosmo-
gram’s partner force, its function, and the location where it is used. The
distinct characteristics of the signs in each of these figures and their uses are
given in Table 3.
The use of nkuyu exemplifies a type of religious practice in Palo Monte
that is based on the notion of contract (nkandu). This type of contract re-
fers not to a legal commitment but to an agreement between humans, an-
cestors, and natural forces. It alludes to ritual methodology used in Palo
Monte in order to establish the principles underlying the manipulation of
vibrations during a ritual performance and forms a contractual commitment
between the forces and vibrations controlled by a priest and endorsed or ac-
tivated within the prenda. In the nkuyu, each of the cardinal points and the
center of the cosmogram represent one of the following types of contract.
figUre 42
example of a lucero,
provided by Osvaldo
Fresneda Bachiller.
(photograph by lisa
maya Knauer, 2000.)
South: contracts with animals, with the energy

of the animals that represents natural and
cosmic forces
East: contracts with vegetation, with the energy
of plants, herbage, and trees
North: contract with the psychic world, energy
of psychological manifestation as dreams,
hallucinations, intuitions, and spirit com-
munication
West: contracts with the elements, energy of
nature and cosmos manifested as fi re, vol-
canic eruptions, tornadoes, earthquakes,
and bodies of the universe such as planets,
stars, and comets
Center: contracts of combination, energy as
the result of combining two or more of
the other modalities
The colors used in luceros in Cuba are also im-
portant to an understanding of their role and con- f i g U r e 4 3 example of a lucero from
textual meaning. Each cardinal point, as well as Felipe Garcia villamil, 2002.
the center of the lucero, is associated with a color
and a meaning. The associations are similar to those described by Bunseki
Fu-Kiau in his work on dikenga among Kikongo-speaking cultural groups
in Central Africa and are described by Fresneda Bachiller and Garcia Villa-
mil as follows:
South: Yellow—fresh water, the river or Sîmbi spirit
North: Red—change, transformation, dangerous situation
ta b L e 3 in the fourteen examples in Figures 28–41, the modification of the design reflects the
cosmogram’s partner force, its function, and the location where it is used. This table gives the distinct
characteristics and uses of each figure.
figure description
28 The most basic form of lucero. marks the place where the spirit will land. Generally used under a
prenda, under the bed, or under a glass of water.
29 Used to interact with the spirit using gunpowder or sulfur. To clean and protect physical locations,
such as the four corners of a home or the crossroads.
30 Used in the course of a graphic narrative, as part of a larger firma. Used in war or to defend against
a spiritual threat, to win the battle.
31 Used to convey a treaty or partnership between nkuyu and sarabanda and Gurufinda.
Joins together the healing and communication powers of all three spirits to be expressed
through nkuyu.
32 Used to resolve situations related to housing, to bring harmony and protection to a home.
33 lucero partnered with Tiembla Tierra, or “earthquake.” Used to cool down or relax a person.
34 Called Cuatro Vientos (Four Winds) Kangome Nfuiry, it is made out of vegetable fibers and
functions as a guide for the prenda spirits.
35 Used for marking the location of the prenda inside the religious room and to anchor or ground
the power of the prenda. also means a graveyard; used to call spirits resting in a graveyard.
36 represents long life, peace, and living in harmony. Used to protect the longevity of humans.
37 Used in the course of a graphic narrative, as part of a larger firma. Used to invoke the power of the
four cardinal points as one.
38 Used in the course of a graphic narrative, as part of a larger firma. Used only at night. When
rituals are performed outdoors, used to prevent disruptions or interference from other spirits or
problems and keep concentration focused in the ritual.
39 represents the earth and all its forces.
40 Used in the course of a graphic narrative, as part of a larger firma. represents the earth and all
its forces.
41 Used in the course of a graphic narrative, as part of a larger firma. Used “to take the corner of
the enemy,” to target a rival location, and to take control of that place. palo monte practitioners
believe that the corner is what protects an individual. To take control over a person’s life, it is first
necessary to take possession of this corner and then to penetrate the spirits that command the
individual’s house.
West: White—purity, perfection

East: Black—underground or death
Center: Blue—(Egáno) indestructible, pure energy, such as morning
dew or rays of the sun, and wholesomeness. It marks the beginning
of the motion of energy and the spiritual journey in the circle.
And like dikenga in Central Africa, nkuyu is linked conceptually to
the sun and its stages. The sun represents the strongest and most brilliant
lucero, or star, and its various points, or stages, are believed to signify indi-
vidual human development and to illustrate the journey through one world
and into the next. In an ever setting and rising cycle, the sun represents the
infi nity of life.
The image in Figure 44, from the Palo Monte Loango branch practiced
in the Cuban provinces of Pinar del Rio and Matanzas, shows a sequence
of different representations of the sun in its five critical stages. These suns,
figUre 44
example of a
sequence of different
representations of
the sun, provided by
Osvaldo Fresneda
Bachiller. (From
Bárbaro martínez-
ruiz, personal
collection, 1989.)
representing different times of day, can be used in one of two ways. First,
the suns serve as a form of announcement, a mode of displaying when a cer-
emonial event will take place. Second, when they are drawn within a divi-
nation ritual, the suns inform the subject the time of the day at which an
important approaching event will occur.
From left to right, the fi rst, Lemba, represents from 6:00 A.M. to 10:00
A.M.; the second, Cuna Lemba, from 10:00 A.M. to noon; the third, Dia-
lemba, from noon to 1:00 P.M.; the fourth, Ndoki Lemba, or Brave Sun,
from 1:00 P.M. to 5:45 P.M.; and the fi fth, Vasco, or Winter Sun, from 5:45
P.M. to midnight. In addition, each representation of the sun is related to a
series of numbers that add further meaning in the context of a divination
ritual. In this case, the picture represents God as officiate of the transaction
of energy through the graphic. It also means that an extraordinary thing
will happen in one’s own home by order of God.
dikenga’s journey
The conceptual, theological, and aesthetic parallels in form and meaning

of dikenga between present-day Central Africa and Cuba are clear. Dikenga
can also be used as a powerful example to demonstrate the strong aesthetic
ties between ancient cave paintings and contemporary signs on both sides of
the Atlantic. Because dikenga represents the ultimate graphic design, con-
taining key concepts of Bakongo religious belief, oral history, cosmogony,
and philosophy, and depicting in miniature the Bakongo conceptual world
and universe, it is particularly telling that, as seen in the drawings from
Lovo in Figure 45, dikenga was also centrally and frequently represented
among the signs made by the ancient users of the caves.
f i g U r e 4 5 lovo rupestrian painting. (adapted by the

author from paul raymaekers and hendrik van moorsel,
“lovo: dessins rupestres du Bas-Congo,” Ngonge, Carnets
de sciences humaines, nos. 12, 13, and 14 [léopoldville,
1962]. image courtesy of paul raymaekers and hendrik
van moorsel.)
Adding to the complexity of the study of

this sign is the multitude of ways it has been rep-
resented in the caves. Among the dikenga signs
found in Lovo, the six representations shown
in Figures 46 through 51 illustrate this range
of designs.
Seen collectively, and when compared to the
dikenga signs pictured earlier by Fu-Kiau and
Thompson, it is clear that each of these symbols
illustrates the dikenga cosmogram. Although
the designs are fundamentally similar, the dif-
ferences between them, discussed in the series of examples that follows,
highlight the manner in which such changes are used to convey certain
meanings and to emphasize different component features of dikenga. These
subtle and important differences among the Lovo depictions are partic-
ularly telling insofar as they indicate a high level of comprehension and
a complex process for assigning meaning among the ancient artists who
made them.
46 47 48
49 50 51
f i g U r e S 4 6 – 51 examples of lovo signs, lovo rupestrian painting. (adapted by the

author from paul raymaekers and hendrik van moorsel, “lovo: dessins rupestres du Bas-
Congo,” Ngonge, Carnets de sciences humaines, nos. 12, 13, and 14 [léopoldville, 1962].
image courtesy of paul raymaekers and hendrik van moorsel.)
Example 1
The Lovo dikenga shown in Figure 46 includes several important features.
The horizontal line is sharply drawn, with three lines that cross in the cen-
ter and two concentric circles at each endpoint. The vertical line is crowned
by multiple smaller circles at its two endpoints, a set of three circles at its
north end and two more at its south end. It is believed that three circles
control one’s life, so safety is found in three circles. The image of three cir-
cles is related to the Bakongo proverb that holds, “If something will hap-
pen, you will be told three times.”51 The idea of three is also associated
with love, truth, and justice. Marking the southernmost point with two cir-
cles in this example indicates completion or an ending. The placement of
circle pairs in this design shows the counterclockwise motion of the circle
from this point to its resting place in the west. Two other elements in this
cosmogram are clearly emphasized: the demarcation of the northern point,
which represents the moment of physical, spiritual, and intellectual growth,
and the emphasis of the horizontal kalûnga line reaching beyond the main
circle. The emphasis on the northern point suggests that this represents a
dikenga in the Tukula position, symbolizing the moment of growth, forma-
tion of society, and the highest moment of spiritual and physical develop-
ment. This dikenga shares features with two contemporary representations:
the example in Figure 52 also emphasizes the circular endpoints and is con-
tained within a double circle, while the example in Figure 53 illustrates the
singling out of one cardinal point.
Example 2
The example from Lovo in Figure 48 has a much larger center than other
representations. A large center, emphasizing the center point of the dikenga,
represents perfection and is seen frequently in Chokwe culture. This Lovo
image also differs from the others in that in this position it is not aligned
with a traditional cross, but is instead rotated 45 degrees. Despite this shift,
it is likely that the meaning is the same.
Example 3
The diamond shape in the center of the Lovo dikenga shown in Figure
49 is a sign of God. A diamond signifies Nzambi a Mpungu, and its loca-
tion inside the dikenga indicates protection. The oversized triangles that
f i g U r e S 52 – 53 Two examples
of dikenga sign. (adapted by the
author from K. K. Bunseki Fu-Kiau,
Cosmogonie Congo [Kinshasa:
52 53 Onrd, 1969].)
represent the dikenga’s cardinal points in this example are notable in that
triangular shapes also represent God and imply perfection, a message of
accomplishment emphasized by their size. The large triangles also suggest
a propeller wheel, indicating motion of the sign in the counterclockwise
direction of the ancestors. The propeller is formed by two combinations:
one is composed of the two triangles joined vertically across the diamond’s
center, representing the joining of humans and ancestors with God; the
second is made up of the horizontally facing triangles, which also indicate
motion, dialectic change, and transformation. Together the two axes allow
humans and ancestors to spin and move together as one, protected by God
as they move toward the underworld.
The example of dikenga in Figure 54, from Kuba, shares these char-
acteristics. The diamond center indicates God, and the oversized cardinal
points, although not triangular, form propellers and indicate collective mo-
tion toward the world of the ancestors. The dual spirals in the center of the
diamond also demonstrate centripetal and centrifugal movement. Clémen-
tine Faïk-Nzuji explains the spiral, stating that coming up to the center
from below conveys positive evolution, progress, and growth, and the com-
ing into the center from outside indicates regression and fleeing.52
Example 4
The Lovo dikenga in Figure 50 emphasizes, through its absence, the north
cardinal point. As described earlier, this position on a dikenga represents
maturity or adulthood and can also be used to indicate a warning of dan-
ger.53 The vertical mukula line is depicted here as a tunnel from the world
of the ancestors opening up into the realm of the living. The large circles
representing the remaining three cardinal points indicate protection. Fi-
nally, as in the above depictions, the diamond structure and the emphasized
four triangles represent the force of God. The dikenga in Figure 55, pro-
f i g U r e 5 4 Kuba lembéta sign. (adapted by the

author from Clémentine Faïk-nzuji, Arts africains: Signes et
symboles [Brussels: deBoeck Université, 2000].)
f i g U r e 55 dikenga sign documented by robert Farris

Thompson. (adapted from robert Farris Thompson, The Four
Moments of the Sun [Washington, dC: national Gallery of art,
1981]. image courtesy of robert Farris Thompson, 1969.)
vided by Robert Farris Thompson, also involves four large, prominent cir-
cular points framing a perfect diamond comprising four triangles.
Example 5
The depiction of a Lovo dikenga in Figure 51 is also unique in a couple of
respects. First, it emphasizes the western cardinal point by making it larger
and farther from the center. The western point indicates death and regen-
eration, the reincarnation of living beings, and is also emphasized, through
its absence, in the Cuban dikenga in Figure 32, drawn by Osvaldo Fresneda
Bachiller. Second, the Lovo example strongly demonstrates its counter-
clockwise motion through its streaming, curving points. This sense of mo-
tion is echoed in Fresneda Bachiller’s example as well as in the dikenga
examples by Thompson (Figure 55) and Garcia Villamil (Figure 56).
f i g U r e 5 6 Circle-of-new-life sign. (By Felipe Garcia

villamil. Bárbaro martínez-ruiz, personal collection, 1988.)
manual of rupestrian Signs
Although the sign of dikenga may be the most important of the signs found
in Lovo that are widely used in the present day, it is by no means the only
such example. Table 4 illustrates forty-eight signs found in Lovo and com-
pares them with signs used today in Mbanza Kongo, Angola, and by Palo
Monte priests in Cuba.
A fi nal rupestrian site worthy of mention is Tadi dia Sîmbi (or Ntadi dya
Simbi) (Figure 57). According to Ntinu Nzaku Nevunda, Tadi dia Sîmbi is
a large rock shelter located in the Lovo mountains near the Angola–Dem-
ocratic Republic of the Congo border. Unlike other rupestrian art found
in the Lovo region, the written symbols found in Tadi dia Sîmbi have not
been seen elsewhere. This site is mentioned here for contrast and to further
emphasize both the role played by graphic writing among the ancient peo-
ple of Central Africa and the complexity of its form and use evidenced in
the archaeological record.
Tadi dia Sîmbi is also known as Kuna Mboma (Two Bells) and, accord-
ing to surviving members of the royal family and to local traditional priests,
it was the location used to prepare the body of the deceased king before
passing his power on to the new king. The ceremony in the sanctuary is
called Mpindi a Tadi and is used to elevate the spirit of the king through
a mummification process that takes between five and seven years. It is only
ta b L e 4 Forty-eight signs found in lovo compared with signs used today in mbanza Kongo,
angola, and by palo monte priests in Cuba
Lovo bidimbu firmas firmas (osvaldo

(paul raymaekers) (mbanza Kongo) (felipe garcia villamil) fresneda bachiller)




f i g U r e 57 Tadi dia sîmbi rock art. (adapted by the

author from a publication by robert Farris Thompson, Le
geste Kôngo [paris: musée dapper, 2002]. image courtesy of
robert Farris Thompson.)
57.1: rebirth in reference to the king’s soul crossing into
the other world, compromise; 57.2: good guidance,
offering; 57.3: long life and health, intimacy; 57.4: the center
cosmogram that activates the whole drawing and links all
of its parts; 57.5: good agricultural season, seriousness; 57.6:
maturity, wealth, prosperity, and generosity; 57.7: death,
protection.
57.1
57. 2 57. 3 57. 4
57.7
57. 5 57. 6
after the process is completed that the body can be interred in the ground,
at which point the lemba ceremony is performed to crown the new king
and connect him with the traditional spirits. The complex graphic writing
engraved on the surface of the rock in the cave contains instructions for the
performance used to elevate the spirit through the seven levels of existence
of the human soul and both guides and expresses the community’s wishes
for the rule of the new king.
The design is subdivided into seven major parts (see Details 57.1
through 57.7), corresponding to wishes that are expressed during the cere-
mony and are expected to be satisfied during the fi rst year of the new king’s
government. The seven parts symbolize the seven levels of existence, and,
taken as a whole, they represent the constant changes in the two worlds (the
worlds of the living and the dead). The meanings associated with each level
are as follows:
1. Rebirth in reference to the king’s soul crossing into the other world,
compromise
2. Good guidance, offering
3. Long life and health, intimacy
4. The center cosmogram that activates the whole drawing and links all of
its parts
5. Good agricultural season, seriousness
6. Maturity, wealth, prosperity, and generosity
7. Death, protection
Thompson describes in more detail the meaning and use of the center
of the Tadi dia Sîmbi cosmograms (Detail 57.4), writing that the four rect-
angular compartments of this part represent the journey of the spirit of the
dead person during his previous life and into his future as mwanda. The
symbolization
starts in the southwest, moving clockwise in Vumuna state which means

to be born; moves southeast into the Vova stage, which means beginning
and language as a way to start communicating and interacting; moves
northeast into the Vanga state, which means action or the moment of
change and learning, and concludes its journey in the northwest, in the
Vunda state, which means rest or just the arrival to the closing stages
or life.54
Their ornate design, complexity, and continued use, and the systematic,
narrative manner of reading, make the carvings in Tadi dia Sîmbi unique
among known rupestrian sites. Although their age is unknown, their exis-
tence demonstrates a substantial history of complex graphic writing in the
Lovo region. Deserving of far greater study, Tadi dia Sîmbi is particularly
interesting for its foreshadowing of the complex systems of graphic writing
that would later be seen in the New World.
The ancient visual signs and symbols uncovered in archaeological sites

in Central Africa demonstrate the long history of graphic writing among
the Bakongo and their forebears. The continued use in Angola and Cuba
of many of these signs, along with the complex meanings ascribed to them
in both places, makes it clear that their appearance in ancient caves is more
than a coincidence, but rather a demonstrable continuity over time.
Writing to preServe: bidimbU and biSinSU

In this section we explore in detail the way a wide range of written graphic
symbols, known as bidimbu and bisinsu (pl.), with strong similarities to signs
found in the Lovo caves, continue to be used today by the Bakongo peo-
ple who inhabit the region. In particular, we focus on the manner in which
such symbols are used and understood in and around the town of Mbanza
Kongo in northwestern Angola and how they are utilized by the inhabitants
to organize daily activities, communicate with one another, worship God,
and perform and participate in a range of religious ceremonies.
etymology and meaning of dimbu and Sinsú
In Western culture a sign or symbol is generally understood as an evocation,

a representation, and an analogy to, or abstraction of, “reality.” In examin-
ing the use of signs in Bakongo culture, it is useful to explore the more com-
plex and nuanced meaning ascribed to the notion of a symbol. In Kikongo,
the terms dimbu and sinsú (sing.) are both used to mean “symbol,” but they
can be differentiated from one another in a manner important to an under-
standing of the manner in which they graphically express meaning.
The term dimbu comes from the verb dimba, which means “to mark,
signify, imprint, or indicate,”55 and carries spiritual associations, implying
a way of perceiving or recognizing “reality.” The term is used to describe
a symbol that is a metaphor that in turn connotes a manifestation of natu-
ral and spiritual forces and the recognition and recording of such an event.
Matuku Ngame, a Bakongo professor at Yale University, describes bidimbu
as the conceptualization of natural phenomenon such as shooting stars and
a full moon seen during a walk through the rain forest; the understanding
of these events depends on the location in the rain forest and the person
who was able to read and understand the meaning of shooting stars and a
full moon.56 These two independent happenings can be read individually as
well as collectively, but full comprehension is possible only in a certain loca-
tion and by a person who knows the dimensions of the event in relation to
his culture and existence.
For example, among the Luba-Kasai, the “full moon” is associated with
female power, maternity, fecundity, love, beauty, and fertility, and when
used in scarification designs, it symbolizes what women would like to ac-
complish in their lives.57 Similarly, among the Yombe in Cabinda, the moon
is used to allude to female characteristics and is often depicted with the sun
in the designs on carved pot lids to represent the contrast between female
and male identities. When the symbols of the moon and sun appear in the
same frame, they also mean a personal encounter and indicate the differ-
ences between husband and wife. The contrasting yet complementary sym-
bols are seen in the following proverb recorded by José Martins Vaz in his
book Filosofia tradicional dos Cabindas.
Ntangu i Ngonde: The Sun and the Moon:
ba mana dengana, When they are to meet,
bi kundama va mbata. They are in the highest point.58
In other designs the moon is used to indicate a relationship of unequal

power through the way it is positioned in relation to the sun. When the
moon is located near, but below, the sun, the notion that “the moon cannot
pass over the sun”59 delivers the message that people should respect their
position in the hierarchy of society. In a common tomb design (tuziku), the
moon, depicted alongside the symbol of a star, shows that the decedent was
a married man, while the representation of the sun in the same frame means
that he was a noble or had a higher position in society than his wife.60
This abbreviated example of the complex meaning associated with a
viewing of the moon illustrates the breadth and depth of submeanings
brought to bear on the interpretation of the type of symbolic communi-
cations known as dimbu. The previous example of a dimbu symbol con-
notes the entire picture of a person walking through a forest and observing
shooting stars and a full moon. Just as the moon within that picture is laden
with complex meaning, so too are the stars and the forest. Bidimbu thus
act as shorthand for the entire picture, connoting through single symbols
specific events, with all their contextual meaning and cultural implications.
In contrast to dimbu, sinsú conveys more limited meanings. Derived
from the verb sinsa, which means “to commemorate,” “to symbolize,” and
“to remember through a souvenir or vestige,”61 sinsú is used to describe
actual signs that are depicted materially through written marks or carved
physical representations.62 While bidimbu are nonphysical and metaphoric,
bisinsu are used by the Bakongo as a physical register or notation of a concept
and are displayed, among other places, as paintings on a variety of surfaces,
as markings or patterns on textiles, as statuary engravings, or as components
of tomb designs and the carved ornamentation of terra-cotta monuments.63
contemporary bidimbu and bisinsu Usage
Contemporary usage of dimbu and sinsú symbols in Central Africa has not
been thoroughly cataloged or examined, and, with the exception of work
published on Sona writing among the Bachokwe people of eastern Angola
by scholars including Gerhard Kubik, no scholarship has addressed the con-
tinuing role of graphic writing in Bakongo communities. This lack of de-
tailed study has led some to believe erroneously that no comprehensive
graphic writing traditions other than Sona writing remain. Although John
Desmond Clark, Carlos Ervedosa, Camarate França, Henri Breuil, Jef Mor-
telmans, José Redinha, Joaquim Martins, John Turkey, Mário Fontinha,
and Paul Raymaekers and Hendrik van Moorsel have documented archaeo-
logical evidence of sign usage, and Faïk-Nzuji, Fu-Kiau, and Thompson
have recorded the contemporary existence of numerous graphic symbols
in Central Africa, no work has attempted to fully document the systematic
usage of such writing by modern Bakongo.
Research conducted between 2002 and 2010 in Angola’s Zaire province
and part of Bas-Zaire province in the Democratic Republic of the Congo
has documented the use of a wide range of graphic writing forms and dem-
onstrated their systematic organization. There is widespread continued use
of, and community enthusiasm for, graphic writing, particularly among the
elders and other members of contemporary religious organizations in and
around Mbanza Kongo, and the research demonstrates that graphic writing
has long been, and continues to be, an important part of the religious and
political lives of members of the royal family, religious leaders, and laypeo-
ple in the wider Mbanza Kongo community.
This research on contemporary uses of graphic writing among the Ba-
kongo has involved close work with numerous traditional political and reli-
gious figures near Mbanza Kongo. These include surviving members of the
former royal government of the Kongo kingdom who, despite official de-
struction of the Kongo kingdom by Portuguese colonialists and the banning
of public religious and social organizations under Angola’s socialist regime,
have continued to safeguard traditional cultural and religious knowledge and
today form a self-described “Traditional Group.” They include Ntinu Nzaku
Nevunda, a priest who was once the royal councilor to the king; Alvaro Bar-
bosa, head of the traditional council; Alfonso Seke, the court’s oral histo-
rian; Paulino Polar, chief of Kwanza Maya (village); and Pedro Savão, chief
of Kinzau Niemo Maya. Other holders and institutions of traditional knowl-
edge in the area include the religion Bundu dia Kongo (BDK), whose priests
include Ne Lisimana Zola, Ne Wanzinga Mpangu, Ne Nzinga Wasiwadimbu,
Ne Keva Difua, and Ne Katembo Zola; the religion Mpeve ya Nlongo and its
prophet, Mayifwila Rafael Rivals; the Botanical House of Spirit and Tradi-
tion and its priest (nganga nkisi), Francisco Lusolo; the Church of Black Peo-
ple in Africa and its prophetic mother (ngudia nganga), Nsenga Alabertina;
and the Kimbanguista Church. These local churches fuse traditional beliefs
with elements of Catholic or Protestant religious scripture.64
Fu-Kiau defi nes communication in the Bakongo world through the con-
cept “Bidimbu ye Nsonokolo za Kongo,” a phrase that translates roughly as
“symbols and ancient Kongo pictographs.”65 Residents of Mbanza Kongo
use a similar concept, “Sinsu kia nguizami,”66 or writing signs, when asked
to defi ne or describe their notion of communication. A fuller translation of
the term nguizami incorporates the concept of symbols of understanding,
the willingness to listen to each other and be reasonable, and friendly dis-
course.67 A less formal term used to refer to graphic writing is “Ndinga i
Sinsu” or “Ndinga Bisinsu,” which literally means “graphic language.”
Examples of the complex uses and understandings of graphic writing

across different religious institutions, secular users, members of the royal
family, and government figures demonstrate a continuity in the aesthetic
and conceptual features of the component signs. Their use across such a
range of distinct yet overlapping realms of society, from secular to religious,
can be organized into three distinct categories:
1. Signs used in agriculture, in hunting, and for the expression of arith-
metic values related to those activities
2. Signs used for location and traveling purposes
3. Signs used to express religious and moral meanings
Among these categories, numerous differences in meaning, style, and
usage of a particular sign exist. Table 5 illustrates the variation in mean-
ing of a selection of signs across religious and secular uses as described by
local priests and members of the traditional Kongo government in Mbanza
Kongo, Angola.
In keeping with their role of holding and expressing specialized knowl-
edge about several traditional and syncretic religious practices, graphic sym-
bols representing the spiritual realm are drawn by hand on the ground in
sacred spaces, painted on walls, engraved in wood and terra-cotta, and used
in the designs of brass objects, musical instruments, tools, bottles, neck-
laces, crowns, and textiles. Another common drawing technique uses natu-
ral clay that is found in four basic colors—white, yellow, red, and black—and
the colors can be used to convey different meanings. Signs are also often
codified through body language, within or outside of a religious perfor-
mance, and by tattoo and scarification procedures. Secular use of the sym-
bols is often more direct and immediate, with signs typically drawn by hand
or drawn on the ground with the use of a stick or branch. Graphic writing
is also used as a way to record information within Bakongo political institu-
tions and economic systems by tying and untying knots on a rope to broad-
cast the state of social problems to the community. This tradition is called
kinkete kia kânga ye Kutulu mâmbu.68
Another important difference between the use of signs in secular and
spiritual contexts is that the style and complexity of graphic writing shifts
substantially between the two realms. In general, graphic symbols em-
ployed in secular settings such as farming, hunting, or traveling are used
as single units, whereas symbols used in religious contexts tend to be used
in a more complex manner. More often than not, in religious contexts mul-
tiple signs are used in a single integrated system to be read holistically.
Within the system, the primary meaning of each sign may be modified as it
is merged with other signs or depicted multiple times. Visual components,
such as the proportion of the elements, repetition of the parts, direction of
the sign, and colors it employs, all function to engage and shape a narra-
tive. In some extreme examples, such elements can be used as charms or bi-
directional amulets for protection against calamity, illness, wild animals,
demons, and insanity.
ta b L e 5 Comparison of meanings for a selection of signs, as offered by local priests and members
of the traditional Kongo government in mbanza Kongo, angola
mbanza paulino pedro joan paulino bundu dia

Kongo bisinsu nieves Savão polar Kongo

.
.
.







Although the contrast in complexity between religious and secular uses

is immediately apparent, it is not absolute. Hunting and traveling signs are
indeed depicted individually, but this individual positioning does not elim-
inate all systematic qualities. On the contrary, the singular arrangements
use space and motion as elements in the system’s completion and activation.
An example that illustrates and clarifies this concept is the arrangement
of symbols along the trail through a village, valley, field, or rain forest. Peo-
ple who travel that way pass their eyes over each sign, collecting the detail
and making the associations that guide them. Using this method, the direc-
tion does not matter, but the meanings collected along the way are abso-
lutely crucial. Thus it is the motion through the space that becomes the
linking element in the writing system. Only a person physically walking
through the space sees the signs in relation to one another and grasps the
collective meaning.
Examples of Secular Usage

The secular use of signs for agricultural, hunting, and traveling purposes
is collectively known as ndinda i sinsú, and these signs share certain char-
acteristics and interpretative techniques. Alvaro Barbosa, the head of tra-
ditional government in Mbanza Kongo and the chief of the Ne Dundua
family in Mangola village in the municipality of Madimba, to the north-
east of Mbanza Kongo, explained these to me with the following example.
Figure 58 illustrates the symbol of a hunter. This sign is used by a
hunter after he has successfully killed an animal. It is drawn along the way
back to the village in a variety of ways in order to let other villagers know
where to fi nd the kill, as the hunter himself never brings it back. The full
symbol is not depicted along the path; instead the hunter conveys his mes-
sage through a series of actions, including the following:
• Leaving objects such as branches in the path

• Drawing symbols in the dirt of the path
• Bending or breaking stalks or branches and marking
remaining leaves with certain patterns
• Cutting symbols or notches on trees
The notations left are elements of a codified and widely un-
derstood system. Each mark is read by the follower for informa-
tion about which way to turn. The general combination of sharp
and gentle turns toward an identifiable point is illustrated by the f i g U r e 5 8 symbol of
cross and curve of the graphic symbol. This comparison is clear a hunter. (From Bárbaro
in the way the varied marks, individually or in combinations, im- martínez-ruiz, personal
part a particular instruction. For example, every time a branch collection, 1986.)
is left on a path, a line is drawn in the dirt (Figures 59 through
61), and together the signs indicate that such a path must be taken. Leav-
ing a branch in the path also indicates that the path taken is temporary, that
it is not the path that will lead all the way to the kill. In contrast, when the
distinctive pink flower (Figures 62 and 63) is left on a path, this indicates
that the path is to be followed the entire way to the location of the prize.
The pink flower is also represented by a separate symbol, seen in Figure 64.
In addition to marking the beginning of the journey, this technique of leav-
ing things on the path corresponds to the vertical arrow in the symbol. Sim-
ilarly, when a branch or stalk is bent or broken, and the leaves are marked at
59 60 61
f i g U r e S 5 9 – 61 alvaro Barbosa drawing on the ground in mbanza Kongo,

angola, 2003.
64
figUreS 62– 64
distinctive pink flower and
the graphic writing that
62 63 represents it, 2003.
65 66 67
f i g U r e S 6 5 – 67 Bent branches or stalks and a mark on a tree, 2003.
an intersection (Figures 65 and 66), it indicates which way to turn. In such

cases, the direction is never straight, but rather a curve, thus linking the
technique to the curved line in the hunter’s symbol. Finally, when notches
or marks are cut into a branch or tree trunk (Figure 67), it informs follow-
ers that they are approaching another intersection where the body of the ani-
mal will be found. This technique corresponds to the location on the symbol
where the horizontal line meets the arch.
Examples of the systematic use of signs in a secular context, such as Bar-
bosa’s, belie the apparent lack of complexity in the secular setting and em-
phasize the point that although appearing individually, the signs give no
meaning until read as a whole, a reading that requires motion, specialized
knowledge, and general awareness.
In addition to their use in Mbanza Kongo, hunting symbols have long
been seen throughout the African continent.69 The symbol of the bow and
arrow, for example, is one of the most common drawings in rupestrian art
and has been found in several sites in Africa, including at a neolithic rock
shelter at Safar, Tassili n’Ajjer, Algeria, dating from before 4500 B.C.70 One
of the earliest representations of the hunter symbol among Bakongo and
Chokwe peoples in northern and eastern Angola is seen below from the
rock shelter of Caninguiri in the Muxiku province in eastern Angola near
the Zambian border, where paintings have been dated to around 7,840
years ago. Similar images are also found much farther south, among, for
example, the many engravings and paintings documented in the Brandberg
area of the Namib Desert, Namibia. These date back at least 2,700 years
and include pictograms of a female figure holding a bow and arrow as well
as various zoomorphic representations.
An example of the way bisinsu are used in agriculture is the drawing of
a symbol representing a man on the ground as a symbol of fertility, a way of
asking for a prosperous harvest.71 Another quotidian manner in which bi-
sinsu are employed in secular village life is the use of symbols to inform vil-
lagers of the best location in the river for bathing and to inform them that
in a certain place women and men are not supposed to bathe together. Table
6 illustrates the forms and meanings of a broad range of symbols used in
daily life in present-day Mbanza Kongo.72
ta b L e 6 Forms and meanings of a broad range of symbols used in daily life in

present-day mbanza Kongo as described to the author by alvaro Barbosa, a priest
and traditional chief from Zaire province. (illustrations by Bárbaro martínez-ruiz from
drawings by alvaro Barbarosa.)
mbanza
Kongo bisinsu meaning

mbanza
Three ways without exit. The necessary road zigzags, but must be followed
to the desired destination. There is no shortcut.
Two straight ways without curves and with no exit. The main road does
not have shortcuts.
.
mbanza
A way that always rises and crosses water and rivers. A river throughout
the way.

mbanza
Examples of Religious Use

As noted previously, the use of graphic writing in a religious context is gen-
erally more complex and laden with multilayered meanings than its secular
counterpart. The religious mileu in and around Mbanza Kongo is var-
ied, and multiple distinct spiritual practices—including Bundu dia Kongo
(BDK), Mpeve ya Nlongo, the Botanical House of Spirit and Tradition, the
Church of Black People in Africa, and the Kimbanguista Church—incorpo-
rate more or less extensive ranges of traditional Kongo beliefs, practices, and
expressive forms, in many cases fused with elements of Catholic or Protes-
tant religious scripture.
Practitioners of the religion Mpeve ya Nlongo73 conceptualize graphic

expression as Masona Mambasi Samalulu,74 a phrase that means “the writ-
ing of God’s guardian spirits.” Done mostly on the ground and on doors,
interior walls, objects that are part of the religious performance such as
drums and vessels, and, in some circumstances, the human body, the
graphic writing used in Mpeve ya Nlongo comes in two forms. The fi rst,
Sinsu Kamienga Mayeso,75 meaning “red writing,” is named for the use of
red chalk, tukula. This type of writing comprises signs that embody a prac-
titioner’s personal identity and is used to depict such a person’s spiritual
path. The second, Ndinga Sambasu Samalulu,76 is a secret language of rev-
elation. Unlike Sinsu Kamienga Mayeso, Ndinga Sambasu Samalulu has
evolved into a phonetic language related to Kikongo that involves graphic
depictions known only to the prophet and to the person who becomes the
ancestral spirit at the moment of its landing inside the Kilongo (ancestor’s
dwelling in the community). The graphic components of each of these
forms are used extensively to engage revelation, healing formulas, predic-
tions, and simple messages from the ancestor. In describing graphic writing
in Mpeve ya Nlongo practice as it is used in relation to the divine sign of the
church itself, Ngudi N’ganga Mama Isabel Lufuakenda, the prophet of the
Mpeve ya Nlongo church in Mbanza Kongo, provided examples of how it is
utilized, including as an external marker of location, within the space of the
church, and formed by physical materials.
As an external marker the sign of the church is painted with chalk on
the front exterior door (Figure 68). In this use the image is read merely as
a sign, as a means to identify where something is taking place, but the same
image is replicated within the church interior, formed on the ground in the
center of the room by natural white clay (called luvemba), where it is read
in more detail and carries more than representational meaning (Figure 69).
Mpeve ya Nlongo practitioners believe that the meaning is given when the
image is activated. The sign is activated when it is placed within a larger
figUre 68 figUre 69
drawing on drawing on
the front door the floor inside
of mpeve ya the mpeve ya
nlongo church, nlongo church,
mbanza Kongo, mbanza Kongo,
angola, 2003. angola, 2003.
circle, believed to symbolize and confer the power of the earth. This circle
grants access to the meaning of the symbols that constitute the image.
The sign comprises several interdependent parts that the observer must
look at in turn, reading the sign from the bottom toward the top. At the
base is a symbol in the form of a large letter M. This signifies compromise,
commitment, and meetings or gatherings. Above the M is a large V-shape,
which signifies the union of all practitioners and is a sign of life. Together
the M and the V mean initiation and symbolize belonging to the church.
They also indicate the arrival of Mpeve ya Nlongo, the primary guardian
spirit. Each arm of the V is capped by a five-pointed star, and a third star
is nestled where the two arms meet. This middle star symbolizes the reli-
gion’s youngest generation, its recent initiates, who are protected in the
arms of the faith. The star capping the right arm symbolizes strong, wise
leadership by the elders and spiritual guidance, while the star atop the left
arm represents a strong and powerful priest with a great deal of experience.
Seen together the three stars represent the illumination of knowledge, the
brightness of the entire congregation, and the basic pillars of the religion.
Indicative of the syncretic belief structures in the region, the stars are also
associated with the Christian belief in the trinity.
In the center of the V is a circle that represents the earth. Framed by
tiny rays, the circle is associated with the Christian crown of David and
is intended as a symbol of authority. Finally, as a perfect geometric form
within which all occurs, the circle is believed to offer protection for the
soul, a concept illustrated further by the depiction of the bird within the
circle. The figure of a bird is a metaphor for the fl ight of the ancestors, who
are believed to make possible the continuity between their world and the
world of the living, and whose presence implies the protection of life and
health. The bird is further associated with Christian notions of peace, often
represented by doves in churches and on robes and tablecloths. At the very
top of the sign is a cross depicted in what looks like a glass, also resplendent
with Christian overtones. This symbolizes Nzambi a Mpungu, or God, and
replicates the common traditional practice of placing a crucifi x in a glass of
water. Water is a symbol of life’s creation and is believed to empower the
spirit of God. In this context, the crucifi x is used as dikenga. Once activated
through its location in the circle, the image is central to religious practice
within the church. Practitioners position themselves to the south (at the
bottom) of the sign, facing north. Praying with the arms open is a pose
known as nevuanda, a way to open one’s body to receive spiritual energy.
While praying, practitioners chant religious songs (mambos) meant to call
forth the spirit.
Another representation of this sign in Mpeve ya Nlongo hangs from
the building’s rafters in the center of the church, above the sign’s depic-
tion on the floor. This structure is constructed from flowers, leaves, and
branches, tied together and arranged in a pattern. Each part of the design
is made up of elements carefully selected for their medicinal value. In addi-
tion, flowers are arranged by color to reflect and correspond with the mean-
ings of the symbols on the ground. For example, palm fronds are used in
the hanging version in place of the letter V, and yellow flowers are linked to
the star symbols.
Nganga Nkisi Francisco Lusolo of the Casa Botanica de Espiritu e
Tradiçao (Botanical House of Spirit and Tradition) 77 in Mbanza Kongo
describes how the notion of graphic writing as used by his practitioners
encompasses two practices. The fi rst, ndinga a ntima,78 which translates
as “the language of the heart,” involves the signs that are provided by the
spirits (nlongo) and ancestors (bakulu). As such, this sign system is used for
divination, revelation, and the decoding of religious messages. The second
kind of graphic expression is called ndinga i sinsú79 and involves the draw-
ing of unique signs that represent individual people on interior walls, doors,
and flags and on the ground.
A type of the highly individualized ndinga i sinsú signs that represent
personal identity and an individual’s spiritual strength is called muntu ya
kuluzu,80 which means that each person has his or her own cross (Figure
70). Because each sign is drawn slightly differently, a practitioner is able to
identify his or her own cross and see within it his or her own soul or per-
sonality. To use his or her cross, an individual must touch it and receive
its energy.
Another sign with specific meaning is called ovo bata didi and is used to
indicate a marriage through the joining of two crosses, the symbolic union
of two people becoming one (Figure 71). Divorce is similarly represented
through movement of individual crosses.
A third example of ndinga i sinsú graphic writing is seen in the sign for
the Botanical House (Figure 72). The sign comprises a heart enclosing a
cross and the letter S. The heart (ntima) is a symbol of generosity, humility,
and spiritual cleansing. A related proverb in Mbanza Kongo alludes to the
vast generosity of the heart: “The heart of a Bakongo cannot be touched
f i g U r e 70 Cloth design inside the f i g U r e 71 interior wall drawings of

Botanical house of spirit and Tradition, the Botanical house of spirit and Tradition,
mbanza Kongo, angola, 2002. mbanza Kongo, angola, 2002.
f i g U r e 72 divine sign on the front wall of the f i g U r e 73 divine sign of the Church
Botanical house of spirit and Tradition, mbanza of Black people in africa, mbanza Kongo,
Kongo, angola, 2002. angola, 2003.
by a fi nger because you will never reach its bottom.”81 The heart also rep-
resents human beings in their mortal condition, as people without super-
natural power. The cross (muntu ya kuluzu) within the heart represents
individual people, and the overlapping S, called sadisa, calls upon the power
of healing or curing. Together these three graphic elements are intended to
illustrate the power of the religion.
Teachings of the Igresia de Negros en Africa (Church of Black People
in Africa or INAF) in Mbanza Kongo, as described by Nsenga Alabertina,
the Ngudia Nganga or priest, use graphic writing in the church’s mix of
traditional beliefs with those of Christianity, Islam, and Judaism. The sign
shown in Figure 73 is located on the exterior of the INAF church and is
used to indicate what takes place inside. At the bottom the circle with a dot
in the center represents the beginning of all existence, the source of all life.
It implies strength, security, and protection. Two bold lines stretch upward
from this point, forming an arrowhead at their tip. This arrowhead indi-
cates the route humans have traveled and the way of life in Mbanza Kongo.
Practitioners believe that this city was created by twelve families, each rep-
resented by a triangle around the central circle. These triangles are seen
as cardinal points that encircle and protect the city. They reference similar
markings—fountains providing fresh water—located at each of the four car-
dinal points of the actual city of Mbanza Kongo. The S in the center of the
sign’s circle and overlapping the two vertical lines represents people empow-
ering the guardian spirit (mpeve ya nlongo). Above the circle a wavy line
indicates water, which, in INAF, represents the sîmbi spirit and conveys
the belief that sîmbi has the power to hold the city together and ensure its
survival. The sign above the water line contains a triangle used to symbol-
ize the fertility of women and the earth. Finally, the image as a whole has
meaning: the sign on top and the central triangle-ringed circle both repre-
sent stars and together are believed to represent all of Bakongo civilization.
Practitioners of Bundu dia Kongo in Mbanza Kongo call the religion’s

form of graphic expression sinsú dia nguzami,82 which translates literally as
“communication or sign writing.” The symbols used in Bundu dia Kongo
are contained in a three-volume book, known as Makáva or Makongo.
These volumes present the depictions and meanings of the symbols, as well
as formulas for healing and other spiritual performances of cleansing, con-
trition, or concession. According to Bundu dia Kongo priests, this book is
drawn wholly from traditional religion and is unrelated to the Bible and
Christianity.83 The sinsú dia nguzami symbols are used to teach the “phi-
losophy of return” (vutukila), which has four different components: spiritu-
ality, moral recommendations, instructions for living, and information on
how to become a prophet or spiritual leader.84 Sinsú dia nguzami uses many
colors (named lèndo) and assigns each color a function. For example, red is
used to engage the power or energy of the ancestors, yellow (ngangu) artic-
ulates meaning as revelation and advice, blue (nzola) indicates charity, green
(luniaza) represents guardian spirits, white (mpeve) calls forth harmony and
peace, and black (kifuiti) is used for matters relating to death.85
Graphic writing is also used for religious purposes outside the context of
organized religion in contemporary northwest Angola. The clearest exam-
ple of this is the Imbondeiro tree (Figure 74). The tree is near the village of
Nkwanza Vata, thirty-five kilometers north of Mbanza Kongo, near the bor-
der with the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and is located in the cem-
etery of the elders, nearly eight kilometers from the center of the village and
near a system of caves and rock shelters known as Tadi dia Mpemba. At the
northern edge of the site, the tree marks the location of the graveyard. The
engravings on the surface of the tree face south and look over the graves.
The symbols are carved on the tree during a ceremony to mourn the
death of a chief and bless the new leader of the village. The year 1976 has
been carved on the trunk to indicate the last time a ceremony was performed
at this site, and it was at that time that the
current chief, Pedro Zavão, ascended to the
position. Zavão, together with his nephew
and successor-to-be, Miguel Moises, ex-
plained the meanings of the symbols. The
upside-down triangle at the top of the se-
ries is the sign of death and of the grave-
yard, indicating what lies before the tree
and, as it is not connected to any other
symbol, symbolizing incompleteness of
being. The line below the point of the tri-
angle is kalûnga and represents the frontier
between this world and that of the an-
cestors. Farther down the trunk, the two
triangles facing one another indicate com- f i g U r e 74 engraving on the bark of the
pletion, with the top triangle representing imbondeiro tree near nkwanza vata, mbanza
the living, including the family and friends Kongo, angola, 2003.
of the deceased, and the smaller triangle symbolizing the ancestors already
departed. Collectively, the tree’s symbols illustrate the Bakongo belief that
humans are incomplete if they do not have ongoing interaction with their
ancestors. The sequence of symbols implies that in order to become whole,
humans must cross over kalûnga to meet with their ancestors.
In addition to the religious understandings and uses of graphic writing
documented in Mbanza Kongo and described here, Fu-Kiau has provided
a large amount of information on spiritual uses and meanings of graphic
symbols among the Bakongo in the southern Democratic Republic of the
Congo. Table 7 illustrates a selection of his work.
comparison of bisinsu
Although the preceding material is drawn from practices documented in

the area surrounding Mbanza Kongo, similar use of graphic writing sys-
tems has been observed elsewhere throughout the Bakongo region. Table
8 illustrates a range of symbols recently documented in use in northern
Angola and the southern Democratic Republic of the Congo. Examples
include a broader range of contemporary bidimbu used in Mbanza Kongo,
Chokwe Sona scripture, and Luba Lembéta writing, and are compared to
symbols recorded by Thompson and Fu-Kiau. The comparison illustrates
the strong similarities across these different but related systems and empha-
sizes their common genesis.
access to bidimbu and bisinsu
Graphic writing is central to traditional Bakongo culture but it is not fully

accessible to all members of society. Access to graphic writing varies accord-
ing to its use, with greater restrictions placed on access to religious graphic
expression and wider access given to symbols employed systematically in
daily activities such as hunting and agriculture. This distinction is more pro-
nounced in modern times than it used to be, as hunting traditionally held
a privileged place in Bakongo society and was reserved for the noble class, a
class also generally privy to graphic writing in the more protected religious
context. Modern forms of government and changing economic realities,
however, have begun to change this situation, and, as the class of hunters
has expanded to include individuals across all strata of society, so too has
access to coded forms of communication as part of hunters’ daily routines,
while access to religious graphic writing remains tightly controlled..
In the religious sphere contemporary access to graphic writing is lim-
ited to priests, prophets, and traditional village chiefs. Graphic writing
use within religious practice requires a high level of knowledge regard-
ing Kongo cosmology, cosmogony, and philosophy—knowledge that is far
more restricted than the meaning of symbols within a secular context. Even
practitioners of the religious groups discussed earlier have limited knowl-
edge of graphic writing. They know enough to respond to the use of signs
ta b L e 7 a selection from the work of K. K. Bunseki Fu-Kiau (1962–2003), including the meanings of
the signs shown (“Bidimbu ye nsonokolo za Kongo” [symbols and ancient Kongo pictography], 2003)
bidimbu meaning

bidimbu meaning
bidimbu meaning
ta b L e 8 Comparison of the strong similarities among different but related systems, emphasizing
their common genesis
chokwe Sona Lembéta bidimbu

bidimbu (mário fontinha, (clémentine (r. f. thompson,
(mbanza Kongo) josé redinha) faïk-nzuji) bunseki fu-Kiau)






during ceremonies and weekly worship but lack a full understanding of all
the symbols or their relationship to one another. Instead, it is the religious
leaders and priests who have the requisite specialized knowledge for the
selective use of graphic writing.
To study Kongo cosmogony at the highest level, one must be a mem-
ber of an initiation society. Within the social and religious structure of a
society, initiates learn the location of the symbols; their position, form,
color, and direction; and the way they relate to the specific society.86 In Self-
Healing Power and Therapy, Fu-Kiau discusses modes of transmission of
this knowledge, writing, “Because of the lack of printed material, teaching
constituted passing down of key principles of life through bikûmu (repeated
mottoes), ngana (proverbs), n’kûnga (songs), and nsonokono zabândulwa
(iconographic writing).”87 This dialectic is described as a kinzônzi pattern,
the “process in which the master enunciates one portion of a given principle
and the audience in chorus completes the rest. Everything is either repeated,
sung, bândulwa (iconographically written), or proverbialized (sokwa mu
ngana).”88 Although originally only secret society initiates learned the use
of graphic writing in a religious sense, the advent of syncretic religions in
Mbanza Kongo and the gradual shifting of cultural roles have resulted in a
wider use of graphic writing. For example, it is not uncommon for uniniti-
ated priests and prophets of syncretic churches such as Bundu dia Kongo,
the Kimbanguista Church, and Mpeve ya Nlongo to incorporate a range of
graphic writing into their practice, as detailed earlier in this chapter.
Among those who have gained access to restricted religious and phil-
osophical knowledge, certain individuals take responsibility for the writ-
ing and reading of bidimbu and bisinsu. Priests exclusively hold the right
to write with graphic signs, but while there are a number of different kinds
of priests, all of whom have access to graphic writing, some types are more
actively engaged in using it. In particular, the Ngânga-Nkôndi takes on this
role. The title Ngânga-Nkôndi means “priest of the notebook,” indicating
this priest’s role as the religious recorder. This type of priest is a specialist in
fi nding and implementing solutions for all spiritual issues that arise within
Kongo religious institutions such as the Lemba society.89
In addition to religious figures, there are social and political counter-
parts who are responsible for administering the use of graphic writing in a
secular setting. One such position, which Fu-Kiau describes as a “scribe,” is
someone whose role is to archive information inside the traditional govern-
ment (mbôngi).90 This person is called Na-Makolo or Makolo and is charged
with keeping for the community records of government decisions, agree-
ments (mandaka) with other traditional governments, such as economic
contracts and political alliances, and other important events.91 The Makolo
does this by braiding a cord and tying knots onto this rope (n’sing’a makolo)
or simply by cutting marks (makènko) into a piece of wood made for the
purpose.92 The Makolo also has the related obligation of decoding the mes-
sage symbolized by each mark or knot on his ropes.
Another important figure in the process of codifying and deciphering
graphic writing is the Mabika (announcer), whose function is to speak to
the community and notify the public of the resolution of particular prob-
lems. The Mabika does this by untying or cutting the knots that represent
the date on which the problem was discussed by the Mbôngi or that indi-
cate known events such as anniversaries, the signing of agreements, and
other important events in the community.
It is not possible to generalize about the extent to which these traditional
roles are still being performed in Central Africa. The Angolan government’s
attempts to systematically break down the structures of the traditional Ba-
kongo government have been more successful in more densely populated
towns and cities. As a result, in Mbanza Kongo itself, although only a mid-
size town, the traditional information-providing responsibilities of the Ma-
kolo and the Mabika are rarely seen. Only when the members of the last
traditional government are assembled, usually for national cultural awareness
events,93 are these figures active. Outside of Mbanza Kongo, however, the
traditional responsibilities of the Makolo and Mabika have been preserved to
a greater extent. The same is true among the Bakongo of the southern Dem-
ocratic Republic of the Congo, where during the past fi fty years the national
government has been less overtly hostile to traditional roles.
The foregoing is intended to illustrate, through a selection of detailed
examples, the degree to which graphic symbols continue to be used by Ba-
kongo residents in and around Mbanza Kongo, Angola, and, by exploring
the range of contemporary secular and religious uses of bidimbu and bisinsu,
to demonstrate that the approach to graphic writing is at once complex and
fluid, allowing the system to remain strong throughout changing times.
Writing to remember: firmaS

Firmas (literally translated into English as “signatures”) are a form of
graphic writing and performance used by priests of Palo Monte (pale-
ros) in Cuba that embody a complex code of cultural knowledge. Directly
f i g U r e 75 Firma that represents a divination board

called The Congo magic Circle, provided by Osvaldo
Fresneda Bachiller, personal documents, havana, Cuba.
(From Bárbaro martínez-ruiz, personal collection, 1989.)
related to and descended from the bidimbu and bi-

sinsu symbols used among the Bakongo of Central
Africa, fi rmas comprise a variety of distinct writ-
ten elements (see, for example, Figure 75). Criti-
cal to Palo Monte religious practice, fi rmas are used
within ritual contexts as a form of divination and
mode of communication and can be made on the
floors, doors, walls, and front of the house as well as on religious objects.
An examination of the development of fi rmas in Afro-Cuban society and
their forms, meanings, and uses clearly demonstrates the continuity be-
tween them and Kongo graphic writing in Central Africa.
A number of branches of Palo Monte are practiced within Cuba, each
using a somewhat different style of fi rma. These branches include, among
others, Mayombe,94 Loango, Brillumba, and Kimbisa. In this chapter we
concentrate on the Mayombe and Loango branches, comparing and con-
trasting their writing styles. With more than five thousand signatures iden-
tified in each branch, and an infi nitely dynamic linguistic structure and
vocabulary, selected representative examples are intended to illuminate
common threads rather than to comprehensively catalog the fi rmas used
in each branch. I draw heavily on the expertise of several paleros, including
Osvaldo Fresneda Bachiller, a priest in Palo Monte Mayombe for more than
fi fty years; Francisco de Armas, a priest of the Loango tradition for seventy
years; and Felipe Garcia Villamil, an Abakua and Palo Monte Mayombe
priest from Matanzas currently residing in the United States.95
history and origin of firmas
The word firma literally means “signature” in Spanish, and its use can be
traced back to colonial times. No available information indicates how or
when the term firma began to be used to describe graphic writing in Cuba,
but there is a clear association between the Kongo understanding of graphic
writing and the notion of a signature. A signature is something personal, a
graphic representation of what is unique and distinctive about the person
making it. This individual notion suggests connections to the spirituality of
the person and can be seen as an example of overlapping the literal mean-
ing of the word with a deeper functional dimension within the intercul-
tural social context. Firmas are more abstractly understood in the religious
context, where they are used to depict and call forth spiritual forces, com-
municate with ancestral spirits, and facilitate divination. In this sense, the
concept links immediate human destiny with worlds beyond our own and
serves as an emblem for the expression of metaphysical ideas.
Though most commonly referred to as fi rmas, Cuban graphic writ-
ing is also known as fimba,96 engángo, or anaforuana.97 Engángo and
anaforuana, terms used within Cuban Abakuá initiatory societies of Efi k
and Ekoi origins, mean literally “the passageway of the mpúngu (force or
energy).”98 Engángo comes from the word ngango, which means “intelli-
gence” or “knowledge” in Kikongo.99 Interestingly, the African-descended
population in Cuba chose to describe a communicative medium and form
of religious and cultural transition using the term intelligence instead of
the seemingly more logical choice ndinga, which means “language” in
Kikongo. The term for knowledge is certainly a more accurate expression of
the Bakongo concept of communication—the holding and sharing of cul-
tural information—and can arguably be seen as a celebration of this orig-
inal meaning within their Kongo culture rather than a literal translation
of what would have been expected within the colonial language imposed
upon them.
Just as there exists little information on how fi rmas got their name, so
too no conclusive evidence yet demonstrates from where or what the graphic
system developed, or how such a process occurred. Many Cubans, even
those who use fi rmas in their religious life, know little about the writing’s
African origins. Similarly, scholars of Cuban history have paid little atten-
tion to African communication modes and have focused instead on catalog-
ing and describing pre-Columbian graphic traditions and daily life rather
than on the cultural tools of the African population brought to the island
after conquest. A similar lack of attention is notable in traditional linguis-
tic studies within Kongo-based religious practice by Afro-Cubans, in which
scholars nearly uniformly disregard fi rmas as an actual form of language.
According to oral accounts, graphic writing appeared for the fi rst time
in Cuba around the eighteenth century.100 The earliest documentation of its
use came in the nineteenth century, ironically in the form of Spanish cigar
labels, when the tobacco company Susuni used fi rmas in its label designs,
seemingly without any awareness of their meaning or use.101 It was not
until the beginning of the twentieth century that this graphic tradition
caught the attention of scholars, most notably Fernando Ortiz and Lydia
Cabrera, whose pioneering work has provided a foundation for subsequent
analysis. Ortiz’s work cataloged signs and symbols, songs, poems, and oral
history as specific cultural markers but did not fully connect these markers
to a wider tradition of religious practice. Cabrera collected oral traditions
that she believed related to an understanding of religious and cultural prac-
tices of African peoples and their descendants in Cuba and openly empha-
sized her aim of recovering the memory of Africans and their contributions.
Subsequent work by a range of writers continued to note the existence
of graphic writing in the practice of Kongo religion in Cuba but, with few
exceptions, added relatively little to the basic knowledge established by
Ortiz and Cabrera. One exception is the work of the musicologist Argeliers
León in his classic essay “De paleros y fi rmas se trata” (About Paleros and
Firmas), published in 1986 in the Revista Unión (Union Journal). León ac-
knowledges at the beginning of his essay that fi rmas comprise “an outline
system,”102 with its origin in Africa, and notes the religious and social func-
tions of the tradition. León describes the development of fi rmas by slaves
and their descendants as a response to their new circumstances in colonial
Cuba and asserts that this development was enabled by the grouping of
Africans into social and fraternal organizations called Cabildos. León de-
scribes fi rmas as being used “to perform religious work, spiritual cleaning,
and protection, [and] to fight witchcraft” and emphasizes the importance
of understanding the system from within, from the perspective and culture
of the practitioners. He notes that the process for learning the meaning of
the signs takes a long time and involves detailed religious education, and he
goes on to characterize the fi rma tradition as “signing sets”103 that can be
understood only among a restricted social group that has been educated to
decode the signs’ meanings: “The decoding of this sign system responds to
a semiotic pragmatism that becomes oscillating, personal, conventional, and
ultimately idiosyncratic, compact, and delimited.”104 León’s greatest contri-
bution is his documentation of a wide array of fi rmas and his attempts to ex-
plain a select few, but while his work is informative in its description of the
performance of fi rmas, it is limited by his failure to fully understand fi rmas
as a complex language, a form of communication that goes beyond the sim-
plistic system used only to “represent” mystical forces.
Other than general acknowledgments of the African character of fi rmas
and occasional, noncontextualized references to their usage within Afro-
Cuban religious practice, information on the way African culture informed
and continues to shape the use and meaning of graphic writing in Cuba
has been largely absent from existing literature on the subject, as have been
discussions regarding the importance of the writing form to Afro-Cuban
identity. Instead, the tendency has been to treat the pictorial tradition as
a minor form of graphic expression, an art form barely meriting explana-
tion within the understanding of other art practices such as the colonial
academia, “Cuban vanguardia” in the early twentieth century, and Cuba’s
postrevolution artistic movements.
In contrast to this general absence of such an understanding, Robert
Farris Thompson’s work has celebrated the strong link between Kongo be-
lief and communication systems in Central Africa and the use of fi rmas
in Cuba and has added significantly to the foundation laid by Ortiz and
Cabrera. Thompson argues that the Kongo culture of Central Africa was
the main source of the Palo Monte tradition, writing, “Kongo metaphys-
ical writing provides a hidden impetus behind African-American writ-
ing systems [such as] fi rmas in western Cuba.”105 Although his focus is
on the Kongo influence, Thompson also recognizes the inevitable influ-
ence of the Spanish language during colonial times, as well as other Afri-
can influences in Cuba, including Abakuá and Yoruba, and the peripheral
effects of numerological systems from Cabala Hebrew and Chinese astro-
logical understandings.106
Consistent with Thompson’s work, the following close examination of
the role fi rmas play in Afro-Cuban culture, the way they are written, and
the forms they take demonstrates the close and continuing cultural ties to
Kongo belief and practice, proves that fi rmas in Cuba serve a purpose that
goes far beyond mere representation, and has significant implications for
wider Cuban belief systems and cultural identity. The continuities between
the graphic writing systems in Cuba and Central Africa should not, how-
ever, obscure the contrasts, and it is worthwhile to take note of the pro-
cess of adopting and learning the tradition in the New World, a process
with parallels to the adaptation of sacred Chinese writing in India described
by John Stevens in Sacred Calligraphy of the East: “Every letter is a sacred
symbol, yet [it is] understood that each people must recreate the symbol
and sound in their own idiom.”107 The resulting Palo Monte religious be-
liefs and the fi rmas that express them are at once deeply rooted and unde-
niably unique.
role of firmas in Society
Among practitioners of Palo Monte, the fi rma system fulfi lls a number of
roles that collectively highlight the variety and depth of its relevance to past
and present Cuban culture. At their most basic level, fi rmas, or single sym-
bols, are used as a mode of identifying facts such as practitioners’ names or
roles inside the religion, family, or spiritual association and the location of
the religious house. The primary role of a signature is to facilitate the inter-
action between peoples and, in more secret spaces, the interaction between
the priest, spiritual forces, God, and practitioners. As noted earlier, the
fi rma system is also known as Ngángo, literally “the passageway of mpungo;
the signal and the essence of God are working down on the earth.” As such,
the signatures function as a type of map or electrical circuit whereby the
electricity and force of God, like the cosmic vibrations manifested through
religious objects, circulate and materialize. Signatures are used to convey
feelings, intentions, and desires to spiritual forces and serve as a means for
a practitioner to visualize and communicate with the powers of the spirits.
Like a text that conveys holy scripture, signatures enable both aesthetic and
conceptual understandings of religious values.
Signatures are also used to energize people with the forces summoned
by the signature. When the people supplement the motion of the fi rma
through dance and gesture, the result is a graphic in motion that becomes
a perfect symbol of God as a unifying and active spirit. Similarly, fi rmas are
used for healing and meditation and for the facilitation of mutual transac-
tions of energy between priests, practitioners, and God or the forces rel-
evant to a particular religious experience. Firmas are also used to teach
practitioners religious values and the history of Palo Monte and to pro-
vide outright instruction in the organization of time and the sequencing of
ritual components within the religious ceremony.
In yet another capacity, fi rmas exemplify the manner in which writing
as art and scripture is utilized in Kongo-Cuban culture in the resolution of
confl ict between individuals and within and between communities. When
a confl ict arises, an individual goes to a priest for assistance. The priest cre-
ates a unique signature, and a ceremony is performed to bring the issue to
the attention of the ancestors and deities. The signature in this case is not
just a representation of the problem but instead becomes the vehicle for its
resolution, as it has the ability to engage the problem and identify the spiri-
tual energy or force necessary for a solution.
In addition to the many religious roles fulfi lled by fi rmas in Cuba, there
are social motivations for the use of graphic writing that can be traced from
its inception to the present. As distinct from usage in Central Africa, there
is no clear and absolute way to distinguish between religious and secular
uses because of the extent to which religious beliefs and moral philosophy
have fi ltered into the daily life and understanding of society. Firmas origi-
nally provided the Kongo-Cuban people with a sense of belonging to a new
space, became vital to social-religious consciousness, and, in placing the
individual at the service of the group, increased the power of the group as a
whole. This heightened group consciousness became visible with the emer-
gence of Palo Monte in Cuba.108 In the face of the social repression during
colonial times, the social prejudice of the Cuban society during the era of
the republic, and the intolerant ideological extremism of “Marxism” in the
present day, the fact that fi rmas have survived intact from colonial times is a
testament to the effectiveness of the structure of the graphic system and the
social forces that preserved it.
How Firmas Are Written

The fi rma system is a mode of linguistic communication that uses a vari-
ety of written elements that are classifiable under the family of signs, sym-
bols, ideograms, “logographics,” and “logounits.” These units are called
sellos in Spanish, a name that translates as “stamps” or “seals” and alludes
to their purpose in officially marking something and sending information.
As building blocks of each fi rma, stamps individually represent not a letter
but a concept. Some represent actions, others stand for objects or places,
still more relate to ideas or feelings. While some stamps are recognizable
pictures with clear associations, countless more are not, and their meaning
must be memorized. Individually or in small groups, stamps represent com-
plex thoughts, instructions, names, or particular forces that convey energy
and meaning into the rest of the writing. For example, the stamps shown in
Figures 76 through 83 represent, respectively, ancestor, life, heart, moon,
star, water, God, and fi re.
In addition to their representative roles, stamps are themselves instru-
ments and vehicles for communication, for attracting multiple forces, and
76 77 78
79 80 81 82 83
f i g U r e S 76 – 8 3 These firmas represent, in numerical order, ancestor, life, heart,

moon, star, water, God, and fire. (From Bárbaro martínez-ruiz, personal collection, 1999.)
for meditation. It is in such capacities that stamps are occasionally used to

teach the initiated how to attract and receive special types of forces, to artic-
ulate fragments of the mythological literature, and to understand the his-
tory of the religion.
The total number of individual stamps used in the fi rma system in its
current form is unknown but is believed to fall somewhere between four
thousand and five thousand. Clearly vastly more complicated than the
twenty-six-letter Roman alphabet, the fi rma system is made still more com-
plex by the fact that each sign can have more than one meaning and each
meaning can change with the positioning of a stamp within the signature.
This variation is due to the energy that is created by the vibrations in the
interior of the prenda and inside the practitioner. Furthermore, the individ-
ual elements are modified each time they are repeated.
Firmas use these individual stamps to record the spoken sacred sequence
of multiple functions. The form this expression takes is one of art, where
value is placed on the aesthetic development of important social and reli-
gious themes. A coherent and well-designed fi rma is at the center of a sys-
tem that records a succession of visual cues that directly relate to a kind of
body language and can thus be seen as the graphic components of, or coun-
terparts to, music and verbal expression. A more detailed discussion of these
multidimensional connections and interactions is presented in Chapter 5.
It is the structure of the signature, determined by context, biographi-
cal details, religious training, and other influences, that organizes and gives
meaning to the collection of stamps of which it is composed. The graphic
elements, taken collectively, change in meaning from one fi rma to another
because each fi rma’s unique structure defi nes which force will primarily
communicate through the writing. Together with structure, a fi rma’s style
and the sequence of basic graphic elements affect the signature’s capacity to
communicate and effect change.
The primary recognizable form in an example of a signature is the
enclosure of a principal design that carries in it the general function of the
f i g U r e 8 4 Firma provided by Osvaldo Fresneda Bachiller,

personal documents, havana, Cuba. (From Bárbaro martínez-
ruiz, personal collection, 1989.)
graphic or drawing. At the same time, at the periph-

ery of the primary signature there are often multi-
ple stamps referred to as affi xes. These individual
units act as modifiers that give meaning to the main
graphic, clarifying what is otherwise a generic symbol and allowing the sig-
nature to be read as a whole. An example is shown in Figure 84, where the
central fi rma is modified by the stamps to its left and right.
In addition to the combination of central and peripheral elements,
fi rma structure generally follows one of three basic forms. The most com-
mon form is that of a linear narrative, read from the top of the signature to
the bottom. The second form is centripetal, with the story told in a circular
fashion, read from the outside into the center. Third, a centrifugal reading
pattern tells the story from the center outward. In both types of spiral read-
ing, the interpreter must proceed from left to right. The signatures shown
in Figures 85, 86, and 87 illustrate, respectively, these three patterns of
reading meaning. Though other modes of interpretation exist, these three
forms are a useful platform from which to focus on further variety and
meaning within these structures.
In addition to understanding the patterns of reading, it is critical to
emphasize the range of meanings across different contexts. Although the
essential components and structures may remain the same, the contextual-
ized creation and use of a signature must be known for one to understand
its full message and role. For example, a signature drawn to serve a heal-
ing purpose differs from a similar combination and construction of sym-
85 86 87
f i g U r e S 8 5 – 87 examples of three firmas: siete rayos (85), sîmbi (86), and remolino
(87), provided by Osvaldo Fresneda Bachiller, personal documents, havana, Cuba. (From
Bárbaro martínez-ruiz, personal collection, 1989.)
bols used for divination. Besides location and broad purpose, a number of
other contextual factors related to a fi rma’s creation are also critical to its
meaning. Several of these are discussed in detail in Chapter 5 and include
the words spoken, accompanying music, the gestures and positions of those
involved, and the type of religious objects with which the fi rma is designed
to interact.
It is also important to highlight the variety of forms the signature
itself can take and note the wide array of mediums through which it can
be employed. In general, signatures are made with white chalk (luvemba or
cascarilla), though other colors may be used depending on the function of
the graphic. These signatures are influenced by location and material and
can vary depending on whether they are drawn on the floor, on the wall, at
a point of entrance or exit, in a path, on wood, paper, metal, or stone, or on
religious objects or a person’s body.
Finally, the styles of the stamps and fi rmas vary depending on the art-
ist or priest making them and the Palo Monte branch within which they
are used. For example, in Matanzas province, fi rmas are written in what
is known as a “sharp style,” so named because of the practice of holding
the chalk very fi rmly against the surface in order to make every angle or
geometric form as straight as possible. The angular shape of the regular
character is then alternated with emphatic lines and some circular forms.
In contrast, the “soft style,” favored in Havana province, results when the
stamps and fi rmas are written with more circular shapes that are occasion-
ally interrupted by sharp geometric figures. The difference between the
styles is evident in the examples of complex signatures shown in Figures
88 and 89.
88 89
f i g U r e S 8 8 – 8 9 Two firmas that represent nzambi a mpungu, from Felipe Garcia

villamil (88) and Osvaldo Fresneda Bachiller (89). (From Bárbaro martínez-ruiz, personal
collection, 2000.)
How Firmas Are Used

Given the wide range of functions fulfi lled by fi rmas in Afro-Cuban soci-
ety, there is no simple or precise description that fully encapsulates how this
writing is used. Different religious activities, including divination, initia-
tion, and healing, all require fi rmas to be used in specific and varied ways.
For example, in a divination ceremony, the fi rma becomes the divination
board, with every stamp representing particular spiritual forces or astro-
nomical entities. Each of these forces is also associated with a number or
series of numbers. Once it is determined which force the ceremony needs to
address, other objects, such as cowry shells, are thrown. The way the shells
fall in turn provides a series of numbers, which, when interpreted with the
numbers and powers identified with the force in question, serve to predict
the future and counsel the practitioner.
As we saw in certain of the religious practices documented in Mbanza
Kongo, in Kongo-Cuban initiation ceremonies each initiate has his or her
own unique fi rma that represents that individual’s identity. This personal
fi rma is identified and fi rst drawn through a divination ceremony in which
the priest determines a design that both matches the individual and fits with
the religious house. In addition to representing the initiate’s identity, the
fi rma becomes a vehicle by which the new practitioner can interact with dif-
ferent forces or spirits. During the initiation ceremony itself this individual
fi rma is drawn on the initiate’s partially covered body with white chalk. A
second fi rma is drawn on the ground, also in chalk, and this fi rma repre-
sents the religion’s power to engage the forces. This second signature marks
the physical space where the forces will land and thus comprises stamps that
represent and call the necessary spirits. A third kind of fi rma, the Muana,
is also used in the initiation process. Unlike the other fi rmas, which, al-
though forever remembered by the initiate, physically vanish after the cere-
mony concludes, the Muana is permanently cut into the body, leaving a scar
that marks the individual as initiated into the fi rst level of Palo Monte (an
Ngueye).109 In addition to these three primary signatures, throughout the
course of the initiation other minor fi rmas are used to provide instructions
for the performance.
A third type of religious ceremony involving fi rmas is one designed for
healing an illness or injury. In this context signatures are used as spiritual
maps, with each stamp representing a type of medicinal plant. The cere-
mony works on two levels, enabling both spiritual healing, during which
forces actually engage with specific stamps, and physical healing, through
the instruction of the healer as to which plants and physical medicines are
needed and where these elements must be found. Firmas used in a healing
context are drawn with white chalk on the ground of the religious house.
In some cases, fi rmas are also drawn on the sick person as a way of getting
spiritual medicine inside the body.
Whatever its intended use, for a signature to function it must be acti-
vated. Activation is essentially asking for and receiving the spirit’s approval
for the use of the fi rma and making that spirit a tangible force for the dura-
tion of the fi rma’s use. Activation can take place in a number of ways. Lydia
Cabrera documented this basic way to activate a simple graphic sign:
In order to know if the spirit (nganga) accepts, fi rst place seven piles of
gunpowder in a straight line in front of the Prendas, and ask “If you are in
agreement lift them all to the foot of . . .”—say the name of the Nganga
and light the gunpowder. If all are swept up, the spirit is understood to
be in agreement, but to confi rm the answer in a more affi rmative manner,
the Ngagulero (specialized priest) reorganizes the gunpowder and draws
a cross next to the last little pile. The drawn cross is that of Nzambi, a
cross of God that is believed to be a fi rm word by which to swear. The
ngagulero says “Holy word, if you are in agreement take seven and leave
me one. Gunpowder, do not pass the cross.” Lit, six piles explode, and that
of the cross, the seventh does not, a result in which the nganga expresses,
without a doubt, its acceptance.110
Cabrera emphasizes that in graphic communication “fula and mpemba,

gunpowder and white chalk, are inseparable.”111 Because the signature
must be drawn to link the practitioner with the spirit, and gunpowder must
be used to activate this link, neither element alone can open the neces-
sary sacred communication. Like gunpowder, sulfur is a material commonly
used to ask the nganga about daily life, health, work, and fortune. Gunpow-
der, which burns quickly, is ideal for jobs that need an immediate resolu-
tion, such as protecting people, the village, or the flora and fauna, and for
divination, health, and the destruction of evil forces (bandoki). Sulfur, on
the other hand, which combusts more slowly, is preferred in less urgent sit-
uations, where a delayed response is better because it implies that time has
been taken to ensure the accuracy of the response.
Other ways of activating a signature include pouring animal blood
over the signature, blowing cigar smoke, spraying rum from one’s mouth,
and applying ginger or spicy pepper to the fi rma.112 Finally, as discussed in
detail in Chapter 5, lyrics that are sung or spoken (mambos) are the fi nal
critical component in the activation of a fi rma and an important factor in
its success.
Access to Firmas
Although fi rmas are widely used within Afro-Cuban culture, relatively few
people can actually read and write this form of graphic writing. Their rar-
ity is in part a result of the system’s complexity, which demands a profes-
sional religious education; close work with a Tata nkisi (priest) to learn the
range of symbols, the syntax, and structural components; and many years
of practice. Secrecy regarding the uses and meanings of fi rmas further lim-
its who has access to the requisite religious education in the reading and
writing of the signatures. Unlike in Central Africa, where members of lay
society learn select elements of graphic writing, in Cuba the information
is found and used exclusively within the religious realm. Religious knowl-
edge in Palo Monte is held and protected by Tatas (Fathers) and is made ac-
cessible to practitioners in adherence to a certain hierarchy. Occupying the
lowest rung of the religious hierarchy are guests, who are permitted only
to witness certain activities and benefit from the rituals performed. These
guests are generally related in some way to others deeper within the reli-
gion. The second level, called ngueye, is reserved for individuals who have
been initiated into the religion. At this level, individuals are able to climb
higher by taking the initiative to learn more about the religion and by
showing their knowledge through interactions with priests and other mem-
bers of the religious society. As more knowledge is gained by initiates on
this track, they are given greater access to sacred knowledge. Progression is
also marked by ascension to positions of power and the assumption of their
accompanying responsibilities. From highest to lowest, these specific posi-
tions include Tata, Mayordomo, Baconfula, Manzanero, Guardiero, Pati-
fula, Talanquero, Sabanero, Guatoco Sambe, Ensila, and Lindero Kongo.113
It is not necessary to progress through all stages in order or according to a
rigid schedule, and individuals often skip ahead as soon as they are consid-
ered prepared.
Among the individuals occupying such positions with access to fi rmas,
there is a further specialization insofar as certain individuals are responsible
for writing and reading fi rmas in their ritual context. Whereas graphic writ-
ing and reading functions are distinct in Kongo society in Central Africa
(performed respectively by the Makongo and Makâba), in Cuba the roles
were combined and one religious position became responsible for both writ-
ing/recording and reading/decoding fi rmas. In Palo Monte, the baconfula
(spelled bakonfula in Kikongo)114 is such a figure. The title bakonfula is a
combination of two Kikongo words, bako and fula, which were fused dur-
ing colonial times.115 The word bako refers to a stimulus, sting, tingle, or
throb, or something that causes smarting pain.116 Fula means “gunpow-
der,”117 the substance that has been used for centuries in Kongo-Cuban
divination. Together, in the Kongo-Cuban way of thinking, bako and fula
imply the action of divining through fi re, decoding spiritual communica-
tions using flames, engaging the forces through the body, and understand-
ing through sensation.
Another possible meaning of the term bako is related to the term boko,
the root in the verb bôka, which means “to break, to cut” in the sense of
deciding and solving problems.118 The term boko is central to the proverbial
tradition used in divination and by the village council in Kongo society in
Africa. Examples of some of the proverbs about boko compiled by Fu-Kiau
in his book Mbôngi are given in Table 9.
According to Garcia Villamil and Fresneda Bachiller, the baconfula has
the full right and responsibility to use the graphic writing system and to
draw the signatures used during Palo Monte ceremonies. In addition to the
physical act of writing, which is believed to be the conduit for the release
ta b L e 9 proverbs about the term boko
Kikongo english
mbil’a boko ni beto kulu. The call of boko belongs to all of us.
Boko wabôka mu kânda. it is the boko that calls up everything in the community.
Boko wabokula mâmbu mu it is the boko that “breaks” (solves) the social problems
(ma) kânda. within the community.
Boko ka ditûngwanga ku The boko is not built “aside” (from the physical
lutèngo ko. and spiritual community).
Source: K. K. Bunseki Fu-Kiau, Mbôngi: An African Traditional Political Institution (Omenana, d.r.C.: nyangwe-
roxbury, 1985), pp. 2–7.
of spiritual energy, the baconfula’s responsibility for reading the fi rmas is

extraordinarily important.119 Given that the signs’ flexibility allows for a
range of possible uses and interpretations, the meaning of any given fi rma
is assigned through the reading process. As described earlier with respect to
how fi rmas are written, there are three principal modes of reading: linear,
centripetal, and centrifugal. In addition to these basic patterns, in choos-
ing the combination of stamps and interpreting the detailed design of the
fi rma, the baconfula has substantial interpretive flexibility and, as a result,
control over the clarity and strength of the fi rma’s message.
Outside of his responsibilities related to the production of fi rmas, the
baconfula introduces initiates to the fi rma writing system, teaches them
how to understand and use fi rmas, and assists in their exploration of re-
ligious secrets. Firmas are taught to new students holistically; without an
understanding of the underlying belief system and an awareness of the mul-
tiplicity of meanings and layering techniques used in fi rma construction,
knowledge of stamps and their formulaic uses means little. Once students
are steeped in the religion itself, the style of teaching relies heavily on in-
dependent learning and what is called “self-explaining,” where students are
taught the basic stamps and assembly techniques, then left to further ex-
plore and explain things to themselves. Initiates are given a religious note-
book or “libreta”120 to be used as a tool with which to document their
self-education in the fi rmas system. The fi rst signs that have to be memo-
rized and written repeatedly are ngueye, “the circle of new life,” the initi-
ates’ own personal fi rma or graphic name provided during initiation, the
graphic name of the religious house, and the fi rma for their godfather. The
initiates practice in their notebooks the basic meanings of the signs and
take notes on variations in the form, use, and meaning of stamps learned
through their formal religious education and through their observation of
or participation and assistance in performances by the priest and other more
experienced users. Although this act of copying and repetition is critical

to continuing education, students are also encouraged to consider graphic
signs according to their personal and unique understanding.
In “The Effects of Self-Explaining When Learning with Text or Dia-
grams,” Shaaron Ainsworth and Andrea Th Loizou studied learning ability
using two different kinds of visual materials: text alone and text in con-
junction with graphics.121 They argued that the use of diagrams and other
visual aids led to significantly more self-explanations than observed in
people learning from text only and explained that a “diagram can promote
the self-explanation effect, results are interpreted with references to the
multiples differences in the semantic, cognitive and affective properties of
the texts and diagrams studied.”122 The coupling of graphic symbols with
religious beliefs, fi rma usage, and a range of Palo Monte narratives makes
the traditional method of teaching fi rmas particularly effective for new ini-
tiates and experienced practitioners alike. The fi nding that “graphical rep-
resentation preserves geometric and topographic information [whereas] text
has an arbitrary relationship to the object that it represents”123 also aids
in understanding the strength of graphic tradition as a cultural preserva-
tion technique. By helping to “integrate visual and verbal knowledge,”124
the varied forms of graphic representation seen in the fi rma system have fa-
cilitated self-learning about the cultural traits of the African population in
Cuba. This learning of graphic and textual elements is further facilitated
within the religion by accompanying songs, music, and repeated proverbs.
A similar process of teaching cultural knowledge and moral philosophy
through oral expression and repetition was noted earlier in Fu-Kiau’s work
on Kikongo-speaking cultural groups in Central Africa.
Although exceedingly complex conceptually, fi rmas are not bound as
tightly by rules as other linguistic systems. Because fi rmas are designed to
be flexible and to carry meanings that vary from one context to the next, it
is sufficient for a student to fully understand the range of potential stamp
meanings and know the effects of different combinations, arrangements,
and structural positions. From this foundation of knowledge, the writing
takes on the character of an art form and allows the writer to individually
engage the aesthetic and tailor its forms to particular situations.
manual of Stamps
The scope of the stamps that make up the fi rma system is far too vast to
be explained or documented in a single work. Instead, Table 10 presents
a collection of the more important and most commonly depicted graphic
signs currently in use in Palo Monte. The stamp depictions and meanings
included here were represented by Garcia Villamil and Fresneda Bachil-
ler. In addition, depictions of stamps as published by Cabrera are included
to provide a comparative historical perspective. With meanings consistent
across the sources, the strong similarities in stamp design are informative.
ta b L e 10 a comparative historical reference of stamps from Osvaldo Fresneda Bachiller, Felipe

Garcia villamil, and lydia Cabrera
osvaldo felipe
fresneda garcia Lydia
bachiller villamil cabrera meaning

osvaldo felipe
osvaldo felipe

osvaldo felipe
osvaldo felipe

osvaldo felipe
reading firmas: Selected examples
The enormous complexity of the fi rma system in Cuba described in this

chapter presents a challenge in both writing and reading about the signa-
ture. To further and more clearly illustrate the forms and meanings seen in
the system, in this section we examine in depth a few frequently used and
important fi rmas.
Insancio, or Siete Rayos

Through the signature Insancio (Siete Rayos) we can observe the syllables
that conform to the combination of diverse stamps (Figure 90, with details
on following pages). The syllables contain the forces that, in their totality,
give life to the signature. The principal stamp in Detail 90.1 combines the
symbols of the sun, the moon, and four stars. The sun represents Nzambi a
Mpungu (Almighty God). The moon, or more specifically luna nu (moon
of water), attracts the forces (mpungo) Saca Empeño, Sarabanda, Baluande,
and Kubayende and ensures that the divinatory ceremonies stay absolutely
secret and the members of the house maintain the necessary discretion.
This stamp is also used to release any negative thoughts that may arise dur-
ing the course of the ceremony on the part of the witnesses. The four stars,
often depicted as six or twelve in the context of divination, symbolize the
impulsive creativity of the cosmos materializing through the force of Nzazi.
This fi rst stamp includes a simple graphic of the sun as a force that is re-
quired in all religious ceremonies and whose simplicity belies the complex
concept embodied by the sun. We are able to fi nd its parallel in the mambo
f i g U r e 9 0 Firma of the contract of siete rayos (seven rays

of lightning), provided by Osvaldo Fresneda Bachiller, personal
documents, havana, Cuba. (From Bárbaro martínez-ruiz, personal
collection, 1989.)
9 0 .1
90.2
90.3
“Nzambe above, Nzambe below, and Nzambe in all corners.” God is in

the upper part of the signature, “Nzambe above,” mediating between the
prenda, the tata nkisi, and the children.
Another stamp represents a knife crossing an eye (Detail 90.2). The
blade in this case signifies that the signature must be drawn on the leaf of
a blade in order to control the negative forces (bandoki). This stamp must
be made at the entrance of a cave, which is represented by a convex half cir-
cle (Detail 90.3), and is used to control destructive forces known as “bad
winds” that represent illnesses, ghosts, fierce animals, social discord, and
hallucinations. The eye represents the action of visualizing the divine pow-
ers through the vititi messo (divination mirror). The vititi menso is repre-
sented by the cross formed by the vertical line of the blade, the horizontal
line representing the hilt of the blade, and the combination of the two
crosses and two diagonal circles. The crosses also signify sacrifice, death,
and birth (in a dialectic sense) of all initiates into the religion. Finally, this
90.4 90.5
stamp marks that this ceremony must be made in a vititi menso so the par-
ticipants can visualize and confi rm the arrival of the divine messages in
the crystal.
Detail 90.4 represents the entrance of the bandoki, which controls the
bandoki of the enemy. The stamp in Detail 90.5 signifies protection, ensur-
ing that the enemy does not touch the paths or change the character of the
work that is being done. This stamp can also be inverted and used to sur-
round the course or prevent the enemy from following the trail. It also rep-
resents the map of where the greatest ancestors descend, the spirits of plants
and animals (the flora and fauna). This symbol also alludes to the piedra de
rayo (kind of rock that can be found under a palm tree after being struck
by lightning) and the piedra iman (magnetic rock), which must be present
over this signature to give it strength.
Detail 90.6 represents earth in all its manifestations. The circle is di-
vided into five parts:
1. The symbol of a skull and crossbones (Subdetail 90.6A), which repre-

sents the Kongo ancestors
2. The symbol of the flower (Subdetail 90.6B), which is drawn as three
diagonal lines
3. A cross, alternated with two little crosses and two circles that represent
the guiro (the fruit of the calabash tree) (Subdetail 90.6C), which marks
the sacrifice of animals such as a goat and two doves
4. A cross signifying life, light, and prosperity (Subdetail 90.6D)
5. The central symbol of a double triangle joined at the base, representing
“four winds” that are used to steal the good fortune and energy inside
the enemy’s temple (Subdetail 90.6E)
The fi nal part of this stamp consists of the lines that come from the
lower part of the circle (Subdetail 90.6F). These lines represent the radia-
tion of energy from the prenda (nganga) toward the godsons. For example,
the straight line crossed with multiple diagonal lines represents the spirit of
Mambe, a principal spirit that must be called in order to give strength to
the work. The irregular line represents the rest of the ancestors who protect
the cave, and in the center of the base of the circle (Subdetail 90.6G) is a
cross, illustrating both the division between the two realms (the earth and
the sky) and the connection between them.
90.6a 90.6b
90.6 90.6c 90.6d
90.6e 90.6f 90.6g
Contract of the Secret Cavern

The signature Contract of the Secret Cavern (Fig-
ure 91, with details on following pages) represents
a treaty one enters into in order to gain access to the
cave where the ancestors have hidden important reli-
gious mysteries. The contract is expressed by a stamp
(Detail 91.1) composed of three basic elements: the
star on the right (lucero prima, or fi rst star), a symbol
of the sun as an attribute of Nzambi a Mpungu; the
star on the left (lucero madrugador, or last star); and
the half circle as a symbol of a vititi messo in the cen-
ter. The stars guide the mpungu and, as Palo Monte
tradition holds that human existence originated in
a star, are said to contain the creative force of the
universe. The symbol of vititi messo in this stamp is
believed to see through time and can provide infor-
mation regarding the behavior of living creatures and
predict social changes. The symbol in Detail 91.2 rep-
resents a triangle divided into four parts, with these
parts marked with crosses representing the power of
the ancestors who are blessed by Nzambi a Mpungu.
f i g U r e 91 Firma of el Contracto de la Caverna secreta

(Contract of the secret Cavern), provided by Osvaldo Fresneda
Bachiller, personal documents, havana, Cuba. (From Bárbaro
martínez-ruiz, personal collection, 1989.)
91. 2
91.1
The symbol in Detail 91.3 contains an irregular circle within which a

perfect circle is divided into five parts, and these in turn contain symbols in
each division. A triangle in the lower part of the vertical line divides the cir-
cle, whereas between the two circles the space is partly covered by crosses
and circles. This symbol represents the force of the living beings and the
minerals (Subdetail 91.3A) that live beneath the surface (earthworms, rats,
rabbits, microorganisms, and so on). The symbol on
the right (Subdetail 91.3B) represents members of the
religion that care for the secrets of the religion. The
symbol within the left upper part of the lower circle,
the skull with a cross underneath and three S’s in the
spaces (Subdetail 91.3C), represents the spirits of the
dead Kongo person. On the right part of that circle is
Subdetail 91.3D, representing the force of the fauna
that communicate through the dead Kongo through
this stamp, with crosses that represent the positive na-
ture of the specified action in the lower part of the
91. 3 circle. Finally, inside the circle is a triangle (Subdetail
91.3E) with alternating crosses and circles that repre-
sents the force of Nzazi. This force complements the
91. 3a 91. 3 b 91. 3c 91. 3 d 91. 3 e

stars of the upper part of the signature, which also

speak in this symbol.
The bottom part of the signature (Detail 91.4)
represents the type of mpungo that protects this sig-
nature by taking the form of animals and people to
camouflage the entrance to the cave. This stamp also
represents the actions taken by Nzambi a Mpungu in
the form of a ghost to distract attention and keep hid-
den the location of the cave.
91. 4
Saca Empeño, or Pledge Elicitor
Saca Empeño is used for protection, for liberation, to engender hope, and
for the creation of well-being in society. More specifically, it is used to
defend one from sorcerers and is considered one of the strongest fi rmas.
Working with the spirit of Zarabanda, the Saca Empeño signature gives its
user the strength to persevere during difficult times and endeavors to fi nd
solutions to problems of justice, marriage, and other family matters.
This signature of Saca Empeño (Figure 92, with details on following
pages), with protection as its central function, is used in a wide variety of
contexts and, although the details of
the situation and the necessary com-
ponents of the ceremony may vary,
the basic reading of the fi rma is main-
tained. It is an example of a fi rma that
is read from outside to inside in con-
centric form until its conclusion in
the center is reached and that is di-
vided into three fundamental parts.
The fi rst is the upper and outer part,
which we can interpret by reading
the stamps from right to left along
the horseshoe.
Observing this sequence, the fi rst
stamp (Detail 92.1) can be described
as an arrow pointed toward the east,
which represents the distance between
the sky and the earth. This concept
is also illustrated by the projection
of the solar rays, whose position in f i g U r e 92 Firma of saca empeño, provided by
the upper right of the arrow indi- Osvaldo Fresneda Bachiller, personal documents,
cates positive energy coming through havana, Cuba. (From Bárbaro martínez-ruiz, personal
the signature. The solar rays signify collection, 1989.)
that the action of the fi rma and the
spirits serve a protective role for the
fi rma and its owner. In addition, the
sun’s rays mean that the occurrences 92 .1
92 . 2 92 . 3 92 . 4 92 . 5
foretold in the fi rma will take place on the earth, between the sky and the
ground, not beyond. It should also be noted that the number of small ar-
rows at the base of each of the stamps is significant, as each marks the pres-
ence of a spirit. For example, Nzazi is represented by six arrows, Nzambi a
Mpungu (God) by two arrows, and Chola Nguengue by five arrows.
The second stamp (Detail 92.2) is represented by an arrow and an
S-shaped figure marked by alternating circles and crosses. This stamp rep-
resents the thunder that signifies that the spiritual force of Nzazi is behind
the action of the fi rma. The third stamp (Detail 92.3) is represented by a
simple arrow that indicates the time when the fi rma’s action will be exe-
cuted. The nine marks in the upper left portion of the arrow mean that it
will take place within nine days. The fourth stamp (Detail 92.4) represents
the religious community and all the members who are blessing and autho-
rizing the fi rma’s action.
The fi fth stamp (Detail 92.5) comprises two arrows, between which
is a representation of a human skull. At the skull’s base is a cross with four
S’s entwining the arms. The arrows to the left and right of the fi rma rep-
resent the guardians that are protecting a benevolent spirit. This spirit, or
ndoki,125 is represented by the skull itself and has the power to control the
enemies of the stamp’s owner. The four S forms stand for the stars that will
guide the ndoki during this activity. The cross and the circle to the left
and right, respectively, are also for protection, while the crosses and cir-
cles that form a vertical line below the skull signify that this ndoki comes in
the form of a spirit of the community and arrives by crossing the kalûnga
line, the line that represents the separation between the living and the dead.
Finally, the sixth and last stamp in the upper part of the fi rma represents the
92 . 6 92 .7 92 . 8
92 . 9 92 .10
embodiment of a force with the ability to affect the health of a person or

protect one from physical problems and affl ictions.
The second part of Saca Empeño forms a horseshoe, a curved shape that
indicates the secret, private nature of that which is contained within and
emphasizes that access is prohibited to outsiders.
The third part, within the horseshoe, comprises a series of stamps that
must be read from left to right. Beginning with the fi rst stamp, we see a
skull with a cross underneath. This stamp (Detail 92.6) represents the an-
cestors and spirits of Kongo origin that manifest themselves through this
stamp. The stamp (Detail 92.7) at the far left represents the rebirth of the
spirits that cross the kalûnga line in order to offer help and assistance.
The third stamp (Detail 92.8) is made up of a single cross within an
inverted triangle that represents Saca Empeño, the spiritual force that com-
mands the fi rma. The cross in the center shows that Saca Empeño controls
the flow of energy in the signature and simultaneously creates a second fig-
ure that alludes to the secrecy of this fi rma. This purpose is accomplished
through the inclusion of arrows that act as invisible extensions and permit
the creation of another stamp (Detail 92.9), one represented by a smaller
inverted and subdivided triangle containing crosses; this forms a cave and
implies invisibility and the presence of a deep forest.
The fourth stamp (Detail 92.10) shows a circle at the extreme right
with three vertical lines that cross the line of kalûnga. This represents the
energy of the flora and the fauna that, in the context of the fi rma, permits
92 .11
92 .12
only Kongo ancestors to cross the line and fi nd rebirth. This stamp also
indicates that action must be taken by creating a specific medicinal for-
mula from a specified combination of plants and performing an animal
sacrifice.
The fi fth stamp (Detail 92.11) represents the cemetery, the space where
the ancestors rest. In the context of this fi rma, its inclusion means that the
ancestors will be reborn in the cemetery, so the fi rma must be used in a
cemetery. The fi nal stamp (Detail 92.12) is the center of the cross that re-
sults from the entwining of two principal lines. The fi rst of these is the hor-
izontal kalûnga line, the division between the two worlds, the frontier, the
point of encounter between the living and the dead. This line creates on its
top flank a triangle divided into two equal parts that symbolize the ances-
tors. The lower side of the kalûnga line contains another triangle, an in-
verted version of its counterpart above. This mirrored image signifies the
multiplicity of many ancestors. The second line is mukula and represents
the path from under the water to the surface of the world. This central
stamp tells the story of this entire third part of the signature by indicating
the quantity of ancestors called upon and echoing the fi rma’s name.
When we read the story of this part, we are able to interpret the dialogue
between different stamps and see how the meanings of graphic elements
can change as they relate to one another. For example, the skull, when un-
derstood in conjunction with the central stamp, signifies that multiple spir-
its are coming to assist and are of Kongo origin. We can continue reading
the stamps, complementing their meanings with that of the central stamp
in order to gain a more complete understanding of the fi rma’s meaning.
The detailed overview of the ways in which fi rmas are understood and
used in contemporary Afro-Cuban religious practice articulates the differ-
ences and highlights the overwhelming similarities between this graphic
writing system and its counterpart in Central Africa. Firmas in Cuba contain
a reservoir of Kongo knowledge and beliefs that were brought to the coun-
try over a period of more than three centuries. In the signatures remain the
memories and beliefs of these ancestors and the evidence of lasting spiritual
links with Central Africa. Yet, despite the substantial congruity between
fi rmas and the bidimbu and bisinsu of past and present Central Africa, the
ways in which the practices have diverged and the complex manner in which
fi rmas are now constructed, employed, and understood demonstrate high
levels of creativity and cultural adaptation. That this dual process of preser-
vation and transformation has been documented by graphic writing systems
demonstrates the power and strength of innovation.
C H A P T E R 5
Beyond the Scripture: Physical Forms

of Graphic Writing
Although scholars have traditionally conceptualized graphic writing only

in two-dimensional form, Kongo graphic communication is better under-
stood as involving a wider range of forms, some two-dimensional, but oth-
ers multi- or nondimensional. These varied types of communicative devices
are bound together in a structured, consistent way in Bakongo culture and
give rise to what can be termed graphic writing systems.
Within identifiable but flexible boundaries, graphic writing systems
bring together elements as diverse as sculptures, rhythms, songs, gestures,
and divination tools; and numeric, color, or food identifiers can be system-
atically integrated, understood, and passed down through multiple genera-
tions. In this chapter we focus on several types of “graphic” communication
that work in tandem with bidimbu, bisinsu, and firmas, beginning with an
examination of Kongo religious objects—namely, minkisi in Central Africa
and prendas in Cuba—and explore how such objects are used in relation to
the two-dimensional components of the systems. We then proceed through
a study of mambo lyrics and the manner in which this unique oral tradition
is used in conjunction with other visual and communicative elements.
Minkisi and Prendas: Written Objects

One important category of physical graphic writing is made up of three-
dimensional objects believed to embody spiritual forces. These objects are
widely used in Kongo religious practice in Angola, where they are called
minkisi (pl), and in Cuba, where they are known as prendas. A nkisi (sing)
is a powerful religious object that, when activated by a spirit manifested
in a three-dimensional object, can be used for healing or other medici-
nal purposes. As noted in Chapter 3, the Bakongo believe that the earth is
a self-sufficient element in which human life, nature, and spiritual entities
coexist. The physical embodiment of a spirit in the form of an nkisi is a cen-
tral component of this broader belief system, and an extensive mythology
exists on the origin and development of the various types of minkisi. The
term nkisi comes from the root verb kinsa, which means “to take care, or
is what takes care of life.”1 Robert Farris Thompson, in Dancing between
Two Worlds, writes that all minkisi originated from the first nkisi, known as
149
funza. Funza originated in God and “in order to help the people . . . came
with a great number of minkisi which he distributed throughout the coun-
try, each with its respective powers, governing over its particular domain.”2
Like Thompson, early scholars who observed the use of a range of
minkisi recognized the objects’ critical importance in Kongo belief systems
and documented their varied forms. In doing so, they offered different def-
initions for, or explanations of, the concept itself. For example, Joseph van
Wing writes, “The Nkisi . . . is an artificial object thought to be inhabited
or influenced by a spirit; in any case, endowed by it with a superhuman
power; and that spirit is under the domination of a man.”3 Karl Laman
came into much contact with the use of minkisi in Central Africa during
his tenure in the early twentieth century as a missionary in what is today
the Democratic Republic of the Congo. As a result, he acquired a complex
and nuanced understanding of the concept. For Laman, minkisi are mani-
festations of God’s power. Created by God, minkisi become living beings
whose energy serves as social and physical medicine (bilongo). The spirits
exist as living beings with breath (mwela), eyes and ears, a life to exchange
for another, and the power to both cure and punish.4 Laman also describes
minkisi as ancestral images:
Nkisi thus refers to the spirit of the deceased, who wish to appear in the
one form or the other to be worshipped and invoked. Thus the fi rst great
heroes, the founders of the powerful tribes of the Kongo, Nsundi and
Mbenza etc., are still the objects of worship and cult practices through
minkisi with these names. . . . An nkisi is an ancestral spirit that has taken
shape in a sculpture or some other object, with or without medicine bag,
so that through its presence and power it helps the owner if he has learned
how to use the nkisi, has dedicated himself to it and observes the rites pre-
scribed by its nganga.5
In addition to their function as ancestral images, Laman describes

minkisi as being of human origin and tells of the fi rst nkisi, Mukulu, the
forebear who came down from heaven and made his way on earth. Citing
this original manifestation of God’s existence on earth, Laman writes:
Minkisi have subsequently come from man’s spirit, for according to the
native theories of the soul, the deceased have lived to pass over nkita and
simbi spirit. These have left the world of the dead to take up their abode
here and there in and on the earth, e.g. under stones, in watercourses and
forest or on the plains etc.6
Although Laman’s account differs in many ways from the story of nki-
si’s origin told by Thompson, the two versions impart the same core mes-
sage—that minkisi exist everywhere.
In addition to existing purely in spirit form, an nkisi can inhabit a phys-
ical object and, as a result, can be used as medicine, or bilongo. An nkisi is
transformed into a physical shape through the performance of a religious
Beyond the Scripture 151
ceremony in which the officiating priest is able to make a treaty or contract

with the spirit by using a combination of visual graphic writing and spo-
ken words or songs. The resulting agreement between humans, spirits, and
natural and cosmic forces enables the priest to manipulate or control the
energy of the spirit. Once controlled, such spiritual energy materializes and
is contained within certain objects
Minkisi and prendas reflect the central idea of the established religious
practice, in which a miniaturization of the world is an essential compo-
nent in certain kinds of religious objects. Figuratively, the nkisi represent
all of the power of the earth in miniature.7 Lydia Cabrera expands on this
idea, writing:
The prenda is like the entire world in miniature, a means of domination.
The ritual expert places in the kettle all manner of spiritualizing forces:
there he keeps the cemetery and the forest, there he keeps the river and
the sea, the lightning-bolt, the whirlwind, the sun, the moon, the stars—
forces in concentration.8
Thompson observes that miniaturizing the world is a means by which

to simplify and condense the earth without changing its value. He describes
an nkisi or prenda as an iron pot that contains all the things of the earth in
the form of energy or vital force.9 He further notes that the representation
of the earth in miniature aims to achieve harmony and heightened under-
standing, while controlling feelings and emotions needed for protection.
Laman similarly describes deriving medicine from the earth, noting that it
is drawn from each of the earth’s spheres—land, water, sky.10 The idea of re-
creating the world in miniature is also echoed by Fu-Kiau, who explains the
concept of an nkisi and the medicine it contains in relation to the notion of
futu, a packet or satchel. In a broad sense, the earth is considered the fi rst
nkisi, a package that contained power (lèndo), energy (ngolo), food (madia),
radiation (minienie), medicine (bilongo), water (maza), oil (mafuta), waves
(minika), salt (miûngwa), poison (yimbwa), and drink (ndwîndu).11 Carry-
ing forth this “hidden power of life inside the Futu,”12 minkisi are in the
form of a package or container, and each is believed to contain all that is
necessary to protect and sustain life. In addition to physical elements, the
contents of an nkisi include the information or knowledge that belongs to
the community.13 Fu-Kiau explains that in traditional religion the packets
or containers are made of pieces of cloth, bark, leaves, or animal skin, or are
created in spaces in the waist, arms, or neck of a three-dimensional figure.
As evidenced by the preceding explanations, the concept of nkisi is mul-
tifaceted. A further complication is that although the term refers to the
actual spirit embodied in an object, it is popularly used to mean the ves-
sel itself. This collapsing of terms is done both by scholars and among the
Bakongo themselves.
The physical form of nkisi most commonly studied by anthropologists
and scholars of African art is the traditional three-dimensional figure stud-
ded with nails found throughout Central Africa(Figures 93 and 94). This
f i g U r e 93 Congo Fetiche du Bas-Congo f i g U r e 9 4 nkisi nkondi figure made of

(Congo Fetish of the lower Congo). hand- wood, nails, mirror, and cloth. democratic
painted collotype. (photographer unknown, republic of the Congo. (photograph by Carl
c. 1900. published by nels, Brussels, Belgium, Kaufman, yale University art Gallery. image
series 14, no. 88. in postcard Collection, eliot courtesy of yale University art Gallery.)
elisofon photographic archives, national
museum of african art. smithsonian institution.)
anthropomorphic form also allows these scholars to use a codified body

of language.
At the core of the concept of nkisi are mutability and flexibility, char-
acteristics that are found in everything, from the stories of its origin to
its multiple, context-specific purposes, to its form. The images in Figures
93 and 94 exemplify the most commonly studied type of physical nkisi,
but minkisi are embodied in a rich diversity of physical objects extending
far beyond the iconic nail-studded figures. These can be bags, cauldrons,
bottles, pumpkins, baskets, shells, and horns, as well as anthropomorphic
and zoomorphic sculptures, and the exterior features of each nkisi provide
detailed information—such as pigments, attachments, and ornaments—
about the medicine contained in its interior and the religious uses to which
it is intended to be put, as we see throughout this chapter. Figures 95 and
96, showing figures from the early twentieth century, illustrate a range of
minkisi from Kongo culture in northern Angola.
Made from an array of materials, these examples are among the most
realistic anthropomorphic nkisi forms. The postcard shown in Figure 95
contains a detail of a traditional priest in Angola holding an nkisi in the
form of the bag, a form known as an Nkisi Nkita Mutadi, and standing
f i g U r e 9 5 postcard showing a priest holding a bag shared with the family of nkisi
nkita mutadi and a series of different kinds of minkisi. The nkisi on the ground on the
far left represents the family of nkisi lemba while the others represent the family of
nkisi nkondi ya ntilumuka (on the right). (From the postcard “Feticos de angola” [men
with minkisi], date unknown, african postcard Collection 1575, 3½ × 5½ in., yale sterling
memorial library, manuscripts and archive [angola]. photograph by alex Contreras and
susan Cole, yale University art Gallery. image courtesy of yale University art Gallery.)
f i g U r e 9 6 Feitiços (fetishes). This

postcard shows a display of a variety
of minkisi. (photographer unknown,
c. 1920. published by Casa 32 de
Janeiro, luanda, angola. Collotype. in
postcard Collection, no. 1985-142108,
eliot elisofon photographic archives,
national museum of african art.
smithsonian institution.)
f i g U r e 97 minkisi in bottle form used for the f i g U r e 9 8 nkisi in the form of a bottle,
Bascule ceremony (spiritual weighing). (adapted Botanical house of spirit and Tradition, mbanza
from efraim andersson, Messianic Popular Move- Kongo, angola, 2002.
ments in the Lower Congo [Uppsala: almqvist and
Wiksells Boktryckeri aB, 1958]. image courtesy of
efraim andersson.)
next to several varied minkisi. On the far left is an example of the cauldron-
like Nkisi Lemba; the other anthropomorphic figures are known as Nkisi
Nkondi ya Ntilumuka.
Unlike the human-like figures in Figures 95 and 96, Figures 97 and 98
show collections of minkisi in the form of glass bottles. MacGaffey cited the
use of glass jars and bottles in his discussion of the myriad nkisi forms.14
Similarly, Andersson noted bottles being displayed on the altar fi lled with
water and other ingredients used as medicine and for meditation during
his field research in the Bas Zaire region of the Democratic Republic of the
Congo between 1945 and 1949.15 Figure 97 shows an example provided by
Andersson of the type of bottle used in a ceremony called bascule (balance).
Bottles and jars similar to those depicted by Andersson and described
by MacGaffey16 continue to be used among the contemporary Bakongo and
their descendants. Figure 98 shows an example of an nkisi in bottle form
used in an altar at the Botanical House of Spirit and Tradition in present-
day Mbanza Kongo.
Minkisi bottles, known as ntutu a nlongo in Kikongo, are also used in
Palo Monte religious practice in Cuba, where they are referred to as chamba.
The word chamba developed from the same etymological root as the name
for the spirit Sîmbi: sîmba or samba, which means “elements.”17 Also lin-
guistically related is the term nzamba, which is used in present-day Mbanza
Kongo to describe a religious drink or secret drink that is frequently used
for family-related religious matters or to honor an important actual or spir-
itual guest. This in turn links back to a secondary meaning of chamba in
Cuba, the name of a medicinal drink made from rum commonly used to
awaken the ancestors in Palo Monte ceremonies.
f i g U r e 9 9 Type of f i g U r e 10 0 nkisi f i g U r e 101 nkisi

nkisi in the form of a sack suku mbuki, Kinshasa, mayiza. (adapted by
or pouch—bomba—an democratic republic of the the author from Wyatt
ancient hanging form. Congo, early 1970s. (From macGaffey, Art and
(From Felipe Garcia villamil robert Farris Thompson, Healing of the Bakongo
family collection, matanzas, Faces of the Gods [munich: [Bloomington: indiana
Cuba, 2000. photograph by prestel, 1993]. image University press, 1991].)
lisa maya Knauer.) courtesy of robert Farris
Thompson.)
In addition to the specific use of bottles, in Cuba the minkisi tradition

has been adopted in two broad forms: in a portable pouch or amulet and in
a stationary solid vessel. Both of these types are clearly rooted in practices of
the Bakongo in Central Africa, a lineage demonstrated in their names, their
designs, and their functions.
Figure 99 illustrates one type of portable nkisi used in Cuba. Known as
a bomba, it is an ancient hanging medicine pouch.
The bomba form and its history can be directly traced to a similar tra-
dition in Central Africa. The name bomba itself points to the strong link
between the regional traditions, as the term comes from the word bumba
in Kikongo, which means “sack” or “packet.” Aesthetic similarities further
link the traditions in Cuba and Central Africa, as seen in the examples
shown in Figures 100 and 101. Bombas are traditionally hung from the
ceiling of a religious building because the descent of the package when in
use is important. When it is hung high above the ground, the package is
believed to be closer to God and to represent the fl ight of the ancestors; its
descent symbolizes the power of God and ancestors coming to this world.
The descent is accompanied by lyrical singing, and the package’s initial con-
tact with the ground activates and releases the object’s vitality. Scholars
who have documented the use of this type of pouch during different histor-
ical periods in Central Africa have noted a range of names and uses specific
to the spirits and medicines contained within the packet.18 Little work has
been done on the forms and uses of these larger, hanging bombas in Cuba.
102 103
f i g U r e S 102 –103 Two types of amulets known as makuto. (From Felipe Garcia
villamil, personal collection, los angeles, California.)
Although certain examples can still be found, few practitioners in Cuba

actively use the form, and such usage is generally viewed as an old-fashioned
remnant of an earlier time.
A smaller and more commonly used version of a bomba nkisi is the ma-
kuto, a pocket amulet used to protect the wearer (Figures 102 and 103). A
makuto is smaller than a bomba but is nonetheless considered a direct link
between a practitioner and the major prenda or nkisi. Generally fi lled with
the same elements used in the major prenda, the makuto is worn for pro-
tection when a practitioner takes a journey and travels far away from the lo-
cation of the major prenda. When not in use, the miniature version is hung
on the major prenda to be “recharged.” The word makuto is also used to
mean “the heart of an nkisi.” In this context, it is formed by using medic-
inal plants ritually installed in the direction of the four cardinal points in
order to attract energy. The four cardinal points are associated with a wheel
spinning counterclockwise that symbolically represents the movement and
action of the spirits.
A unique and important feature of a Cuban makuto is the design of its
container. Most commonly made with beads, the pattern and coloring of
the design provide crucial coded information on the type of makuto and
the spiritual forces embedded therein. For example, the repeated sequences
of five reddish-brown beads on the body of the amulet represent empower-
ments, while the alternating gold-colored translucent beads indicate water
and allude to the water spirit Chola and its power. The repetition of these
colors and the multiple sets of five beads on the chain strengthen the sym-
bolism relating to water, while the wide array of other colors represents the
spectrum of the natural realm that the amulet embodies. Lucumi, a Yor-
uba-based religion in Cuba, often influences the choice of color and bead-
ing practices.
An mpaka19 is an impor-
tant type of makuto used in both
Central Africa and Cuba. Two
mpakas from Cuba are pictured
in Figure 104. Unlike other Cu-
ban makutos, mpakas are made
from the bull horns and are used
to ensure the protection of the
mpúngu, or energy and medi-
cine, inside it. To protect this en-
ergy and the person who bears it,
an mpaka has the power to con-
trol the twenty-one spirits that
f i g U r e 10 4 Type of minkisi known as mpaka (a horn
inhabit the prenda to which it is
without a crystal on the wider part). (From Felipe Garcia
linked. Note the complex bead
villamil, personal collection, los angeles, California.
patterns on the two examples. photograph courtesy of C. daniel dawson, 1995.)
In the following passage, Fe-
lipe Garcia Villamil describes the
process used to make an mpaka
as it occurs in Cuba (Figure 105).
Gather the ingredients, light a candle, make a fi rma
of the prenda, or the fi rma of the force to which the
mpaka is dedicated, on the floor. Put the ingredients
on the fi rma, evoke and ask the blessings of all the
spirits, ancestors and living priests and priestesses.
Feed one rooster to the ingredients, mix together
and make a paste of the ingredients. It should have
a heavy consistency such that if you threw a clump
of it on the wall, it would stick. Then clean the horn
with holy water, fi ll the horn almost to the top with f i g U r e 10 5 Cross-section of an
ingredients, cover and seal the ingredients with wax, mpaka. (From Felipe Garcia villamil,
cover and seal with cement and decorate and/or personal collection, los angeles,
bead the mpaka.20 California. drawing by C. daniel
dawson, 1995; published courtesy
Giovanni Antonio Cavazzi da Montecuccolo, of C. daniel dawson.)
writing in the seventeenth century, also documents
a performance associated with the preparation and
use of an mpaka in the (Figure 106). The main figure on the right is an
nganga named Nganga–ia-mbunbi-ia nvula, depicted at the moment of rit-
ual performance.21
Details within the picture confi rm Cavazzi’s description. For exam-
ple, the gesture the man is making with his right hand shows outstretched
fi ngers forming an emblem of God and sign of respect. In addition, the
cords that are tied around the figures’ hips are looped twice, which indi-
cates protection and also means that what is being performed is stable or
f i g U r e 10 6 early
representation of an
mpaka. (From Giovanni
antonio Cavazzi da
montecuccolo, Descrição
histórica dos três reinos
do Congo, Matamba
e Angola, trans. and
ed. Graciano maria de
leguzzano [lisbon:
Junta de investigações
do Ultramar, 1635].)
irreversible. Elements relating to the figure shown to the left indicate that
he also is an nganga. These elements include the skirt made of cat pelts,
symbolizing an nganga, which both figures are wearing, the two feathers
on their heads, the use of the flag in the left hand to repel evil forces, and
a type of sansi (rattle) used to keep the rhythm during the religious perfor-
mance. When the priest assisting the performance makes a circular move-
ment, that movement is used to mark perfect intervals that correspond to
the verbal part of the ceremony. The three feathers atop the sansi and the
bowl are emblems of the three levels of Bakongo existence: spiritual, physi-
cal, and emotional.22
In Cuba, a vititi messo, which literally translates as “eyes of the leaves,”
is a type of portable prenda very similar to an mpaka. An example of a vititi
messo is shown in Figure 107, except with the addition of the mirror on the
top. Like an mpaka, a vititi messo serves as an instrument capable of con-
trolling the twenty-one spirits that reside inside the prenda to which it is
linked. It also, however, has the power to be used for divination and is thus
referred to as a “magic eye.”23 Although they are designed for portability,
many mpakas and vititi messo spend the majority of time atop the prenda
they control, serving as its head and, in the case of vititi messo, the eyes of
the prenda.
The second broad type of nkisi found in Cuba takes the form of ves-
sels or cauldrons known as prendas or ngangas (see Figures 42 and 108).
Energy and spiritual forces are believed to inhabit these vessels or contain-
ers, which are generally made of iron or ceramic. As described in greater
detail later in this chapter, each vessel holds twenty-one spirits, but one—
in each case a human ancestor—is understood to be the object’s dominant
spirit. This is the spirit that is responsive to the practitioners’ requests and
f i g U r e 107 a type
of minkisi known as
vititi messo (a horn with
crystal on the wider
part). (From Felipe
Garcia villamil, personal
collection, los angeles,
California, 2000.)
to which the activation and maintenance ceremo-

nies are directed. Thompson, in his book Flash of
the Spirit, describes Cuban minkisi:
Kongo-inspired nkisi vessels and bundles were pro-
fuse in western Cuba in the nineteenth century.
Many minkisi produced in Cuba and in Afro-Cuban
barrios of the United States today—especially those
in Miami and New York—are contained by large
three-legged iron cooking pots. Afro-Cubans call
such nkisi vessels prendas (pawns), reflecting the
ritual obligation shared by the owner of the charm
and spirit within.24
The vast majority of prendas take this form.

The Spanish word prenda is used outside the reli-
gious context in Cuba to mean clothing, jewelry,
or other adornments for beauty. Early minkisi in
Cuba were given this name to signify their value.
Although early religious practitioners in Cuba f i g U r e 10 8 prenda (pottery nkisi)
had no access to the riches and gold of their colo- in the front row, to the right of the
nial masters, they did have access to the power candle named Gurufinda. (From Osvaldo
and riches of the spiritual world embodied in Fresneda Bachiller, la havana, personal
the prenda. Nganga, or ganga, is a term that in collection. photograph by lisa maya
Knauer, 2000.)
Cuba represents the forces of nature and the cos-
mos and is used interchangeably with the term
prenda to describe the spiritual cauldron. Nganga is also used to refer to a
priest in Palo Monte. Etymologically, ganga is related to the Kikongo kim-
bundo nganga, which is a term for the Kongo priests in Central Africa. It is
f i g U r e 10 9 early
representation of
a pottery nkisi that
became a prenda in
the Cuban palo monte
religion. (From Giovanni
antonio Cavazzi da
montecuccolo, Descrição
histórica dos três reinos
do Congo, Matamba
e Angola, trans. and
ed. Graciano maria de
leguzzano [lisbon:
Junta de investigações
do Ultramar, 1635].)
unknown when, how, or why the meaning shifted in Cuba to incorporate

the religious object as well as the priest.
Like bomba, the cauldron prenda form has its origins in Central Africa.
The earliest documentation of this type of nkisi is seen in Cavazzi’s work
from 1645 to 1670. Figure 109 shows two priests named Nganga-ai-Nvula
(the priest of the rain), according to Cavazzi, working with an nkisi that is
being used by the prince in the center of the illustration during the ritual
of calling the rain.25
In his explanation of this ritual, Cavazzi notes the manner in which,
during the religious performance, the nkisi is used in the invocation of the
spirit of a dead person. To invoke the spirit, the nkisi is fed with food and
drink.26 Cavazzi describes the prince as ordering the spirit within the nkisi
to produce rain and writes of the prince taking the container to the grave-
yard, but informing its spirit that he is not there to ask or beg for a favor.
Rather, he demands that his command be followed within the time it takes
for his knife to hit the ground.27 In addition to the similarity in form of the
nkisi depicted by Cavazzi when compared to modern prendas, its use for the
calling of rain, the food and drink it requires, and Cavazzi’s description of
the aggressive demeanor of the prince in his communication with the spirit
are all consistent with the manner in which prendas are used in Palo Monte
in Cuba today.
Two other examples of minkisi in cauldron form from Central Africa
that are seen in Figures 95 and 96 further illustrate that the idea of embody-
ing spirits in a vessel or cauldron has long been part of the Central Afri-
can tradition and religious experience and is not merely a modification by
Cuban paleros. The former is a fragment from an early-twentieth-century
postcard from Cabinda, while the latter demonstrates an nkisi named
Lukobe lwa Lèmba used for initiation into the Lemba society.28
f i g U r e 110 nkisi figurine called matiabo

by lydia Cabrera, documented in 1875, havana,
Cuba. (From robert Farris Thompson, Flash
of the Spirit [new york: vintage, 1984]. image
courtesy of robert Farris Thompson.)
f i g U r e 111 nkisi in
the form of a doll named
yaya Bilongo, havana,
Cuba. (photograph by
lisa maya Knauer, 2000.)
Anthropomorphic figures, closer to the traditional nkisi nkondi of Cen-

tral Africa, are also seen in Cuban Palo Monte and have been noted by Ca-
brera and Thompson. An early example of this kind of Cuban nkisi along
with a depiction of an mpaka was published in the Spanish newspaper La
Ilustración Española y Americana in 187529 (Figure 110). Cabrera referred
to this newspaper description and went on to document her own obser-
vations of “magic doll-like figurines about 50 centimeters high, carved in
wood . . . with magic substances inserted in a small cavity.”30 Cabrera calls
the doll figurine matiabo, which Thompson links to Bakongo soldiers of
Congo origin who joined the nineteenth-century war of independence
against Spain.31 According to Felipe Garcia Villamil, the generic name for
nkisi in the form of a doll is Yaya Bilongo, a medicine that works when
linked with the major spirit Rompe Monte (Breaking the Forest).32 An ex-
ample from the palero Osvaldo Fresneda Bachiller illustrates the type of fig-
ure commented on by Cabrera (Figure 111).
Just as there is diversity in outward form, there is also a range of medi-
cines that internally constitute minkisi and prendas. For the spirit contained
within the object to have power, it must be complemented by specific me-

dicinal elements. These elements, as well as the manner in which the object
is constructed, vary according to the dominant spirit that will inhabit the
prenda and the purposes for which the object will be used. Thompson de-
scribes the bilongo elements as falling into two categories:
These medicines [bilongo] are of two kinds: (1) spirit-embedding earths,
(graveyard earth, kaolin and so forth) believed to be at one with the spirit,
particularly earth taken from the grave of a person who was very virile and
strong in life, and (2) spirit-admonishing material ideographs . . . signs,
which told the contained spirit what to do.33
Later in this chapter we discuss in detail the latter, the written signs
used to communicate with the spirit, but we focus fi rst on the former, the
physical medicinal elements used to empower and activate an nkisi’s domi-
nant spirit.
In the course of his work in the late nineteenth and early twentieth cen-
turies, Laman documented the use of a wide array of objects thought to
have medicinal powers. Figure 112 illustrates the range of Laman’s fi nd-
ings regarding the elements that can be placed inside nkisi Mbenza.34 Fig-
ure 113 illustrates a similar range of elements used in the present day for the
construction and ritual use of minkisi in the Mbanza Kongo market area.
An equally broad and largely similar
range of materials to those found in Central
Africa is used to make prendas in Cuba. Lydia
Cabrera studied in detail Palo Monte usage
of religious objects in her book El monte.35
Her work introduces the process of making a
prenda and provides descriptions of the pro-
cess, the materials, and the songs that form
part of the prenda’s development. In Cuba,
an array of medicinal elements like those pic-
f i g U r e 112 Contents of Kongo nkisi mbenza

charm, late nineteenth/early twentieth century.
(adapted by the author from Karl laman, 1953, and
robert Farris Thompson, Faces of the Gods [munich:
prestel, 1993]. image courtesy of Karl laman.)
f i g U r e 113 Contents
of Kongo nkisi, mbanza
Kongo, angola, 2004.
tured as being used in past and present Central Africa can be found in the
homes of yerberos (traditional herbal healers); elsewhere these can be found
in botanicas, stores devoted to the selling of religious merchandise and tra-
ditional medicine.36
Critical to the functioning of an nkisi is the nganga, or priest, who pre-
pares the material, inserts the bilongo (medicine) into its container, and
activates the object’s power.37 MacGaffey notes the role of the nganga in
forming the link between an nkisi and its medicinal properties, describing
a process of manipulation and intervention by a priest or specialist.38 Once
an nganga has activated an nkisi, its energy will forever be contained within
the object. However, the nkisi must be continually reinvigorated by one of
several methods in order to retain its potency. As we will discuss in greater
detail later in this chapter, these methods include the use of music, song,
gesture, and bidimbu.
Once complete and activated, minkisi vary greatly in their spiritual
power and in the purpose for which they are used. In their attempts to bet-
ter understand Bakongo uses and meanings of minkisi, scholars have tried
to create systems for classifying the spiritual objects. These systems do not
necessarily reflect Kongo world views. Laman classified minkisi according
to natural phenomena, each of which is linked to the power of ancestors.
His groupings broadly distinguish among forces of the earth, the air, and
the water,39 but Laman does not provide details about what specific fea-
tures or purposes are taken into account or otherwise factored into such
a classification. In addition to classifying minkisi according to the type of
spirit, Laman distinguishes nine types of minkisi according to their pur-
pose. These types, which reveal society, as well as political, legal, and reli-
gious spheres, are as follows:
• The pepper nkisi (bag with pepper and other strong medicines) for
the taking of medicine, for the diagnosis of disease, and for the un-
covering of criminals
• Protective nkisi for protection in war, from certain maladies, and
from evil spirits
• Restorative nkisi to guide the soul back to the sick body
• Suction nkisi to suck out stones, hail
• Reviver nkisi for fertility and productiveness
• Nkisi nkondi for the swearing of oaths, the conclusion of treaties,
the pronouncing of blessings or curses
• Awakening nkisi for love
• Nkisi nkula for the subjugation of spirits
• Coronation nkisi for the hunt
Like Laman, Georges Balandier established groups of minkisi on the
basis of their intended end use. Balandier’s groups include Nkosi (the Lion),
who inspires terror and protects against theft of property or souls, protects
health, guarantees success, maintains the fecundity of women and the fer-
tility of the earth, and defends against evil, and Ntadi, a small figure with
a human face and a feather on top of his head, who represents a messen-
ger or guardian and warns of danger through dreams. Other types of nkisi
described by Balandier include Kunya, Mpindi, Nkondi, and Mavena.40
Although these classifications can be useful in demonstrating the di-
versity of purpose for which minkisi are created, they do not represent the
Bakongo classificatory system and instead impose artificial and arbitrary cat-
egories. In practice, an nkisi contains all of the spirits at once. In Cuba, as in
Central Africa, each prenda contains twenty-one spirits, although only one
of these is the controlling force. The dominant spirit of a prenda is called
Nfumbe. The term nfumbe comes from the Kikongo word mfumbi or fumbi,
which means “death” or “murder.”41 As used in connection with a prenda,
the term nfumbe alludes to the soul of a deceased person, an ancestor. Al-
ways a human spirit, a spirit of the ancestors, nfumbe organizes the other
spirits and enables the priest using the prenda to access its energy. Which
particular spirit is dominant for a given prenda or nkisi is evident from the
object’s form, and it is to such spirits that ritual maintenance of the nkisi is
directed. Although only one spirit is the controlling force of the nkisi, the
others may be called upon as needed; these may include additional ances-
tral spirits as well as spirits from the worlds of plants, animals, and minerals.
To demonstrate the forms, meanings, and uses of minkisi, I will exam-
ine in detail several diverse examples. In addition to showing the complexity
of each individual nkisi, the following examples illustrate one way in which
minkisi are themselves a form of graphic writing. Each object is made up of
materials, symbols, shapes, and poses that collectively form a narrative that
informs the object’s identity and range of powers. As with any art form, the
meaning and cultural interpretations with which they are imbued are nec-
essarily a product of the cultures in which they are constructed as well as
the artists and religious leaders involved in their production and use. So
too is their “reading” a further product of the information available today
and the manner in which the uses of such objects have been documented.
Nonetheless, the complexity and richness of meanings that can be expressed
through such objects are illustrative.
In addition to their social and religious role, the minkisi in Central
Africa and in Cuba constitute a system that has acquired other character-
istics of a communication medium. With strong parallels to the construc-
tion and use of signatures in Cuba, Kongo minkisi design evidences clear
composition in which single characters, each with individual meanings, are
recognizable. Furthermore, the interdependent manner in which minkisi
and prendas are used in relation to the two-dimensional bidimbu or fi rma
demonstrates shared underlying meaning and is critical to a complete un-
derstanding of religious practices on both sides of the Atlantic. While writ-
ten symbols form composition on an external surface, the physical materials
contained inside the nkisi or prenda communicate instructions for the dom-
inant spirit and serve as transmitters of precise, empirical religious knowl-
edge. Such materials must be gathered, assembled, and activated in an
exacting manner by a religious expert trained in the practice.
Figure 114 shows an anthropomorphic nkisi nkondi

from the Vili culture. Note that the figure makes a cir-
cle with his legs, representing fûnda nkata, the pose
struck to acquire energy and to represent a deceased
chief or noble ancestor.42 The circle of the figure’s legs
also suggests life’s circle of protection.
This figure represents a political figure or an ances-
tral chief who is willing to safeguard the lives and well-
being of his descendants. This role is illustrated by the
resting of the figure’s left hand on his knee, a represen-
tation of a figure of high rank who continues to pro-
tect his descendants as he did when among the living.
In addition, the right hand raised to the cheek signifies
ancestral guardianship and meditation. Last, the open
mouth represents the power of speech, the wisdom of
the ancestors.
This nkisi contains physical and spiritual “medi-
cine,” which is located in the abdomen in the form of a f i g U r e 114 nkisi figure.
circular box and in the head. The figure’s head acts as a Kongo vili, nkisi nkondi, seated
kind of spiritual antenna, picking up the vibration that male figure. Wood, white chalk,
generated mpungo (energy) and bilongo (medicine). reddish-brown patina, glass, and
The eyes, made out of mirror fragments, represent the metal. (yale University art Gallery
spirit Kalûnga,43 which speaks through them. They are permanent Collection, 1997. 58.1.)
eyes of clairvoyance, spiritual possession, and political
justice. Furthermore, these eyes represent a political fig-
ure or a chief who has the power to access the world
of the dead in the search for justice and truth. Finally,
the metal pieces encrusted in the cavity in the abdomen
represent the key that holds the medicine and locks it
inside the hollow space. The individual shards symbol-
ize ailments called mambu that result from social dis-
eases or the negative energy of others.
Figure 115 shows an nkisi nkondi from the Dem-
ocratic Republic of the Congo. The figure’s head is
crowned with a circle of feathers (mpu a nsala), which
represents a type of contract with spiritual forces that
is received and manifested physically within the head.
The feathers signify that this is a guardian and messen-
ger nkisi and, according to MacGaffey, signify power
from above, storm, and rapture. The tips of the feathers
point from the head toward the floor, representing the
movement of the vibrations of the cosmos to nature or
the flow of energy from heaven to the land of the living. f i g U r e 115 nkisi nkondi,
The eyes of crystal, known as “eyes that cut,” are also democratic republic of the Congo.
notable, as their total transparency (muilva messo) al- (anonymous Collection. image
ludes to the clarity of water and serves as a metaphor for courtesy of George meister.)
the bisimbi spirits. An nkisi with this type of

eyes and the individuals who work with it are
believed to have the power of the world in their
hands. Another symbolic element of the figure
is the contract (nkandu) located in the box at
the center of the figure, which alludes through
its milky coloration to another type of contract
and form of medicine, the Kalûnga spirit and
its representation of the perfect union of the sky
and the sea. Finally, the way the figure’s arms
are cradling the abdomen from below forms an
important Bakongo gesture that means, “I am
the medicine,” and stands for protection.
Figure 116 shows another example of the
nkisi nkondi that, according to Laman, is
called the Smasher or Lion.44 Laman notes that
nkisi nkondi is “a common name for a kind of
f i g U r e 116 nkisi nkondi, Kongo minkisi with a large sculpture in which pieces
wood standing figure, nineteenth century, of iron are often hammered in for the swearing
democratic republic of the Congo. (yale of oaths and concluding of alliances.”45 Laman
University art Gallery permanent Collection. states that the name nkisi nkondi stems from
image courtesy of Carl Kaufman.) the Kikongo term Konda, which means “hunt-
ing.” He also notes that such an nkisi “lies in
wait for, to intercept, lies in ambush for game” and that a subset of the nkisi
nkondi category, the nkisi nkondi ya Ntilumuka, which Laman classifies as
an “air” nkisi, “fl ies, seizes in the woods, in the trees.”46
This nkisi is constructed largely according to classic Kongo methodol-
ogy, in which each part of the figure responds to a specific process or type
of action being requested of the spirit,47 and each feature or detail conveys
meaning. The upper part of the nkisi, for example, indicates a type of con-
tract with the inhabiting spirit that converts the head into an antenna that
receives the vibrations that have the power to create the mpungo and the
bilongo. Also significant is the way the nkisi’s head is tilted back, looking
toward the sky. Among the Bakongo, this position clearly indicates rever-
ence and respect for the elders and the ancestors. The partly open mouth
(bamuna or the beginning of life) represents the circulation of the vibra-
tions, a metaphor for the breathing of the mpungo (the nkisi is ready to
speak) and for a window open to the sun. The large milky eyes show that the
spirit of Kalûnga is present or that Kalûnga speaks through the eyes. The
large pupils indicate the communicative role of the eyes (messo kiswezwe)
and allow the nkisi to engage and challenge (mambo) the viewer.48 The ears
shaped like snail shells represent the basic form of the spirit Sîmbi, which
inhabits the depths of the sea.
Another contract in this figure is represented by the double coil of rope
wound around the figure’s neck (see Figure 116). Attached to the back of
the rope is a fragment of textile and the eyetooth of a lion. These drape over
the body and protect the nkisi from the actions of evildoers (bandoki).49
The belly is the location of perhaps the most important contract in this
nkisi, as it is where the mpungo and bilongo are located. A rectangle over
the abdomen made of crystal as transparent as water represents the spirit of
Kalûnga, with the horizontal line dividing the crystal into two equal parts
the way the Kalûnga divides the two worlds (the land of the ancestors and
the land of the living) (see Figure 116).
The horizontal line in the center of the rectangle and the imaginary
vertical line from head to feet together symbolize the cosmogram yowa or
dikenga in Central Africa, or “four winds” in Cuba. As discussed in de-
tail in Chapter 4, this cosmogram represents the power of reincarnation
and the power of death, of change, of mediation of the forces, and of bal-
ance. Finally, the nails embedded in the figure represent the agreements
or commitments made by the nkisi. Each nail stands for a distinct prob-
lem (mambo), and collectively the nails cover vastly diverse aspects of daily
life. Each nail is added to the nkisi as part of a ceremony performed by an
nganga in response to a request by a practitioner who comes looking for a
solution to a problem. The term for nail in Kikongo—nkonso—also means
“strong emotion” or “deep thoughts and feelings,” and the nail becomes a
physical manifestation of these psychological processes.
Robert Farris Thompson’s essay “The Grand Detroit N’Kondi,” in
which he quotes K. K. Bunseki Fu-Kiau extensively, provides the clearest
explanation of the mechanics involved in the religious empowerment of
minkisi as practiced by the Bakongo and related peoples. Thompson de-
scribes several piercing techniques used on an nkisi as part of a process of
recording religious activities such as wishes, desires, protective actions, de-
fense tactics, and empowerment. He lists nine basic iconographic forms and
describes their functions:
1. Nsonso (nail): “long, sturdy nail of iron . . . ; those with circular or

square-sided heads were used when a person ‘tied mambu,’ that is, sealed
the argument with [a] solemn vow.”
2. Mbeezi (blades): “those roughly rectangular in shape, are nailed in affairs
less serious than murder, . . . when you want to unite a person with your
community.”
3. Bakku (a specialized blade) “with flaring head and tapered stem. This
blade, when inserted in mindoki, was believed to have the power to kill
by supernatural means.”
4. Lu-sonso (an iron screw) “with wicker wrapping about stem.”
5. Binko (tied blades, pins, nails) used as follows: “When you go to speak to
an nkisi n’kondi, you have to tie everything you say to the nkisi. To do
this, you can make a knot (kolo) on one peg (kinko) of iron or wood.”
6. Mpusu (an upright rectangular wedge of iron, clothed in raffia cord) “is
used to tie the piece of iron . . . when a person must ‘tie’ a matter strongly.”
7. Futu (sachet-nkisi), “essentially a leaf bound with thread, with an iron

nail driven through its center. . . . The nail driven through the futu sym-
bolizes the piercing of your soul within the packet.”
8. Baaku (blade hammered in upside-down) used “to cause a person in a
palm tree to lose his grip, fall down, and die.”
9. Regular nail clothed in ntupu fiber used to “tie something said very
strongly to the image.”50
In addition to the variety of piercing techniques illuminated by Thomp-
son’s examples, there is an alternative and parallel process of using different
types of knots to record and address issues through an nkisi (mpungu). Fig-
ure 119, which shows piercing of the upper torso and knotting of the lower
torso in a single nkisi, illustrates this process. In the examples and uses doc-
umented during my research trips to northwestern Angola from 1999 to
the present, knotting is more prevalent than piercing in religious objects.
Knotting techniques are generally referred to as mazita, the Kikongo term
for the act of tying up.
As an mpungu is created and used by a community to disperse life,
forces and problems are accumulated and the physical emergence of the
mpungu’s nature is conceptualized as a wrapping up of the mpungu. This
purpose is accomplished by gathering from one to a hundred slices of palm
leaves and tying these up in a knot until they become a large bundle. The
knots forming the bundle represent a permanent exchange taking place at
the heart of the symbiotic relationship between the client seeking solutions
to problems (mambu) on the one hand and the manifestation of power by
the nganga and the delivery of answers or solutions by the mpungu on the
other. The client’s act of requesting assistance and the need for the nganga
to solve problems through the agency of the mpungu is memorialized by
the act of tying a knot, an act that must be repeated on multiple occasions
until the memories of these actions become physical objects themselves—
knots—and a ceremonial performance is undertaken and requisite payments
made. As the mpungu’s physical form grows through the addition of knots,
the dialectic exchange between the nganga and his clients becomes visibly
manifest. As a result of the exchange between nganga and client, the knot-
ting, tying, and binding techniques used in the creation of an mpungu are
not mere aesthetic expressions but actually serve as vehicles for the convey-
ance of specific contextual meanings. They record a cultural narrative and
spiritual interchange, and their materiality both represents and achieves so-
lutions to an individual set of problems.
Knotting techniques have ten basic forms:
Nkeka kanga: a single knot used to seal and close one issue.
Mazita a tatu: more than one knot tied in a row along a single cord,
used to deal with difficult issues.
Zita seka kia kubula: a bunch of grass tied together with two knots that
can be used as a traditional broom and suggests the metaphoric act
of spiritual cleansing.
Zita lubamba: a bunch of grass tied together in a circular shape, in

which the multiple knots that bind the grass signify separation be-
tween the mpungu and the ground; also represents the seat of the
mpungu and provides the protection afforded by a circle, a perfect
geometric form that means completion.
Seve kia lukamba: a rope made out of fiber used to go up a palm tree
to extract the juice used in the production of wine, with two knots
that form a figure eight; used to tie and untie issues related to rel-
atives who have passed away and a mechanism through which to
channel their goodwill back into the present.
Zita dia vakika: a type of knot named after the reef knot used to secure
two different ropes together and used to tie multiple issues together.
Zita dia kanga: a knot similar to the “butterfly knot,” a static loop any-
where along the length of the rope used to silence an enemy or
resolve antagonistic situations.
Simi dia ndala: a cover made out of grass to cover wine bottles, used to
seal issues temporarily.
Zita a nkita: a knot tied in a manner resembling a monkey’s fist, used
to locate the direction from which the vitality of the mpungu is
sourced; represents the beginning of the rope, which is knotted in
order to lock and secure the mpungu’s vital power; a single knot of
this type represents the cure of illnesses such as spine malforma-
tion, rheumatism, and arthritis or patients who are handicapped,
albino, or mentally disabled.
Nsoko wa diya: a knot that represents the vertical fibers that form on
the top of a palm tree known as “braided fabric” or made from
grass tied together in helix form; each woven component rep-
resents a single issue that is recorded throughout the life of the
mpungu in each of the mpungu’s three essential parts—the head,
which represents issues related to the emotional realm, conscious-
ness, law, and ethics; the upper torso, which represents physical
problems; and the lower body, which represents problems related
to the ancestors.
The mpungu seen in Figures 117 and 118 clearly illustrates the use
of mazita as a signifier of power. The mpungu a nkisi (more commonly
referred to in existing literature as nkisi nkondi) shows five of the basic
forms of knotting in the Kongo tradition. The large knot on the base of
the mpungu, known as zita a nkita, represents the dialectic process of cod-
ing and recording through knots, and becomes the unique signature that
identifies this mpungu. The second type of knot, located on the left side of
the crossed legs, is known as nkeka kanga and represents unique cases or
an entire family as a whole. The third type of knot is the cluster of multiple
knots found on the navel, known as mazita a tatu, which represents difficult
issues that also appear elsewhere on the mpungu’s body. The fi nal form is
seen most clearly on the mpungu’s back and is made up of the braided knots
f i g U r e S 117–118
nkisi nkondi, angola.
(arrocha-miranda
Collection.)
117 118
known as nsoko wa diya, which represent issues related to the emotional

realm, consciousness, law, and ethics.
The two examples seen in Figures 119 and 120 represent two para-
digms of mpungu production that continue in present-day Kongo religious
practice, and the similarities and differences in their respective features
are notable.
The fi rst mpungu (known as Nkisi Nkondi) reflects the utilization of
the two mechanisms described for embedding the spiritual content. The
upper torso of the mpungu is pierced by multiple nails, blades, and needles
used to record the meaning, and the diverse piercing techniques used track
those described earlier by Robert Farris Thompson, particularly Nsonso
and Mbeezi. In contrast, the lower part of the nkisi is covered by an enclo-
sure formed by numerous fiber knots and constructed in a fashion similar to
that of the second mpungu, known as Nkama a Mbenza, the male counter-
part to a female nkisi documented by Laman and called Nkento a Mbenza
(Wife of Mbenza). The knots tied on the lower part include zita a nkita, or
“the monkey’s fist knot,” which, as described earlier, identifies the source of
the mpungu’s power and individually represents cures for specific ailments,
and zita dia kanga, the “butterfly knot,” which is used to silence enemies
and resolve confl ict.
The mpungu Nkama a Mbenza is interesting because of the manner
in which it combines an anthropomorphic figure, likely depicting a local
ancestor, with the bound and knotted package that the figure is holding
in his arms and resting on his lap. These two kinds of visual tradition,
which have been studied primarily as separate expressive forms, are brought
together in this mpungu. The package itself also incorporates traditional
mazita techniques used to represent the religious exchange between the
human client, the object, and the spiritual realm and thus reinforces the
unified figurative and abstract elements of the design. The multiple knots
suggest a long period of use, during which each knot

was formed to address or respond to a new issue, prob-
lem, or client, and there is clear use of two different kinds
of knots: nkeka kanga to seal and close single issues and
mazita a tatu to deal with difficult issues.
A second layer of meaning expressed in the construc-
tion of these two mpungu is conveyed through their body
poses and the gestures they are making. For example,
the Nkisi Nkondi is making a gesture known as Ndin-
gama, which, as explained by Ntinu Nzaku Nevunda and
Mayifwila Rafael Rivals, means to stop or suspend a per-
formance, or to open spiritually. The Nkama a Mbenza
is depicted as making a gesture by placing the left hand
against his cheek and the right on his hip, a pose explained
by Ntinu Nzaku Nevunda as meaning that one is looking
for a solution or response to a problem.51 Thompson de-
scribes this position as one of thought and arresting evil.52
The most significant mpungu of the Basansala (Musi-
f i g U r e 119 nkisi nkondi,
kongo) people around the Mbanza Kongo area is known
democratic republic of the
by its generic name Kiniumba. More specifically called
Congo. (richard scheller
Kiniumba kia Mbumba, the mpungu seen in Figure 121 Collection. image courtesy of
represents the act of gathering many things together for richard scheller Collection.)
a single purpose. This mpungu is intended primarily to
offer protection for people and the environment in which
they live, with the secondary function of guarding against
insomnia and bad dreams. It is sometimes referred to as
f i g U r e 121 Kiniumba kia mbumba known as Kangidi a nzo.

This is an example of the current use of Kongo religious objects in
Bakongo areas of northern angola and Bas-Congo (d.r.C.). many
f i g U r e 12 0 mpungu scholars erroneously believe that the Kongo religious tradition has
nkama a mbenza, noki, angola. vanished. (nganga mawuku pedro lopes, luanda-mbanza Kongo,
(hooton Collection.) angola, summer 2007.)
the “dead saver” because it is believed to have the power to rescue a person
who has fallen unconscious or is in a kind of dream state just before passing
over to the world of the ancestors, a characteristic alluded to by the baboon
skull used to represent the animal’s physical fitness and ability to jump and
travel through the air over the forest canopy.
A mpungu Kinuimba a Mbumba can take several forms, each of which
furthers its principal purpose of protecting the user. The four primary ways
that the mpungu Kiniumba a Mbumba is used are:
Kangidi dia Nitu: a form of scarification believed to protect the human

body by cutting the skin and inserting the medicine prepared by an
nganga mawuku into the cuts. This procedure will turn the body of
the recipient into a living mpungu. The act of drawing blood in the
offering is viewed as a means of communicating the bonds between
the human and a Sîmbi spirit, specifically Sîmbi kia Maza, which
represents river water or fresh water in general. Blood and water
symbolize in Kongo belief the principle of life of both human and
spirit and allude to the complex forces of nature.
Nsidikwa: an alternative manner of protecting the whole body achieved
through the wearing of a belt in the shape of a bundle enclosed in
a piece of fabric—typically a sack or an old item of clothing—min-
iature items from the forest that symbolize all healthy things from
nature. Generally, the bundle is adorned with certain colors and
other attachments such as raffia, animal parts, or organic pieces,
and the belt is unobtrusive enough that it can be worn on a daily
basis or to protect the wearer in his or her travels.
Kangidi a Nzo: a manner of protecting the whole house by burying the
mpungu in front of the house’s main door. The act of burying the
mpungu signifies nature’s inexhaustible supply of medicinal powers
capable of protection and surveillance. The mpungu will function
as a mediator between the household and any visitors.
Kangidi dia Lupangu/Lumbu: a manner of protecting the whole yard
or surrounding land by hiding four iterations of the mpungu,
each in the form of a container, at the four cardinal points of the
property.53
Related to the form taken by a mpungu Kiniumba a Mbumba and the

manner in which it is used are the varied ways in which the traditional med-
icine that gives it its power is enclosed in its body. These range from the
insertion of liquid into cuts made on a human body during a scarification
ceremony to the gathering of all ingredients (such as plants, minerals, and
skin and bones or other animal parts) and the packaging of them together
into a bundle to be buried, carried as a charm, or placed inside a terra-
cotta pot to be buried. Ingredients used to assemble a mpungu Kiniumba
a Mbumba are chosen according to their healing and protective properties.
These ingredients include the following:

Ntu a nkewa: a baboon skull that functions as the mpungu’s radar and
protects against harm
Basi kia lemba nzau: leaves of the lemba nzau tree used to empower the
mpungu and its client
Ndungu za so: leaves of the ndungu tree that form the foundation of
the mpungu and have the function of passing on its power
Mungua kisi nsi: a traditional salt from the Mbanza Kongo area, used
in religious context for cleansing and to banish witchcraft
Mpungu kulukumosi: a branch of the tree kulukumosi believed to help
the user achieve victory and accomplishment
Muense: a type of short and fuzzy grass used to seal the problems and
tie up issues
Kiese kiese: tiny yellow flower that grows on sandbanks in the middle of
a river during the winter season and is used to attract good fortune
and gain control over any situation
Kabangu: branches of the kabangu tree used to empower the mpungu
and its client
Tiya tua mputu: gunpowder, which is used in a fuse to energize the
mpungu and deliver its power through fi re and noise
Most surviving minkisi (kimpungu)
are concerned with a range of very spe-
cialized functions, many of which have
already been explored. In contrast, an
Mpungu a Nkama, or “Mpungu of One
Hundred Powers,”54 such as that shown
in Figure 122, although generally sta-
tioned with other kimpungu in a ded-
icated religious space (Kinlongo), has
broad powers and does not have to work
in coordination with the rest of the kim-
pungu. It is believed to have the capac-
ity to transmit an enormous amount
of power and therefore is in a league
of its own. The difference between the
Mpungu a Nkama and the other kim-
pungu described earlier is that its life
forces reside together and operate in
tandem whereas each of the life forces
contained in other kimpungu tradition-
ally play a unique role and perform com- f i g U r e 122 an example of the female version
plementary but distinct functions. of mpungu a nkama, known as The One hundred
Because of its broad range of pow- powers. (nganga mawuku pedro lopes, luanda-
ers and its singular ability to act, the mbanza Kongo, angola, summer 2007.)
Mpungu a Nkama is called upon to help religious practitioners address a

wide range of concerns and challenges. Most commonly, however, in re-
cent times, the mpungu has been associated with the performance of tasks
relating to increasing fertility or sexual prowess, fi nancial gain, and social
success. This modern focus is in contrast to its historical role in addressing
concerns related to agriculture and hunting, recognizing leadership skills,
and celebrating local cultural heroes. The shift in function reflects changes
in priorities across Kongo society as it has evolved in the face of European
influence and control, an aggressive Portuguese “deculturation” policy
championed by the colonial apparatus, the Catholic Church, and, follow-
ing independence, an open policy of atheism implemented by the pseudo-
communist regime. The modern uses for kimpungu are also influenced by
various issues faced by present-day practitioners, including regional refugee
crises, accelerating migration, repopulation, and informal xenophobia to-
ward returning refugees, known locally as langalanga.55 The refugee re-
settlement in Angola has been facilitated through repatriation programs
implemented following the end of the civil war in 2003.
Figure 122 shows a contemporary example of the female version of
Mpungu a Nkama. The distinction between male and female forms of a
particular mpungu reflects Kongo mythology relating to the initial creation
of humanity and the associated distinction between the two genders and
their associated strengths and characteristics. Female versions of kimpungu
are believed to be more powerful, but there is no material distinction in the
manner in which priests and practitioners interact with female as opposed to
male versions. When an mpungu is constructed with anthropomorphic fea-
tures, it is possible to identify whether such an mpungu is male or female,
but no visual distinctions are made in more abstract types of kimpungu.
The construction and use of the Mpungu a Nkama illustrate the cog-
nitive process that develops to enable interaction between religious practi-
tioners and the material object. The materiality of the mpungu is designed
to capture a conceptual reality and involves the selection and insertion of
organic elements conceptualized as medicine (bilongo) that are then acti-
vated through the use of an alcoholic libation. The medicine that is inside
the container is also visually expressed through the exterior design of the
container. This correlation between the object’s inner and outer proper-
ties speaks to the graphic demonstration of its empowerment and result-
ing potency.
The mpungu’s potency is conveyed through several visual elements.
First, its size and shape clearly demonstrate its purpose as a container that
wields a physical power born of the medicine it holds. Second, the preg-
nant female figure, whose fecundity is exaggerated by the manner in which
the entire mpungu appears to extend from her belly, represents determi-
nation, motherhood, creative power, regeneration, and extended family,
traits further emphasized by the mfilu (calming) properties of the wood
from which the figure is carved. The figure further functions to command
this mpungu, and in this role becomes a type of sîmbi known as Sîmbi kia
Nkento that represents womanhood. This dual role, together with the man-
ner in which the figure is melded with the rest of the object, is an exam-
ple of the hybridization of two separate aesthetics—the anthropomorphic
figure and the container—and the unification of their power and agency.
Finally, the mpungu is constructed with the branches of certain medicinal
trees and thus imbued with their respective specialized powers and vital at-
tributes. Moving clockwise from twelve o’clock, behind the central figure,
the spiritual properties of the four tree branches are:
Lemba Nzau: unlimited, endless power
Lama: to glue or stick something
Lemba Lemba: static power that will ultimately need to be recharged
Lumpilu Mpungu: to energize and transmit spiritual forces
Each of the medicinal tree branches works in tandem with another,
Lumpilu Mpungu with Lemba Nzau and Lama with Lemba Lemba, with
each pairing forming a cross, such as that visible on top of the mpungu
(dikenga), used to regenerate the power of the mpungu. This symbol-based
design originates from the belief in ancient traditional medicine that power
could be generated through the pairing of complementary organic ele-
ments. All the materials used in the construction of an mpungu and for its
empowerment are selected to be compatible with and complementary to
one another. It is also notable that an invisible cross that is formed by the
two pairings is crowned with the figure that represents Sîmbi, the force cen-
tral to any interaction with this mpungu.
The three raffia or grass rings (lukuba) adorning the branches on the
top of the mpungu form a triangle pointing back to the wall of the kinlongo
and representing the active power of the mpungu, the invisible presence
of the Mpeve ya Nlongo, which reinforces the mpungu’s role of guardian
and secures the functions of the figure that personalized Sîmbi. There is
a fourth lukuba at the bottom of the Mpungu a Nkama, which functions
as its seat, and the pure properties of the grass from which it is made serve
to keep the mpungu away from, or floating above, the ground. The metal
locks attached to this foundation lukuba are used to seal problems and to
open up the channel that allows the Mpungu a Nkama to interact with both
worlds and direct the life forces enclosed inside it. Mirroring the formation
of the three smaller lukuba above, the locks create a second hidden triangle
and, together with the triangle at the top, form a complete diamond that
represents the world of the ancestors at the bottom of the mpungu and sym-
bolizes protection and all the positive things on earth. That it is two trian-
gles converging to form the diamond also represents the plural aspect of the
ancestral manifestations in the mpungu and is a hidden but quintessential
expression of the dikenga sign. The locks are also used to open and close the
mpungu’s dialogue with the spirits. The locks are physically opened from
top to bottom to initiate the communication and closed from bottom to top
to close the performance, a process that culminates with three fi nal claps as
a sign of respect and completion.
The communication between the nganga and the Mpungu a Nkama

is conducted in a unique manner, whereby the nganga faces the mpungu,
holds onto the lukuba on the left with his left hand, while holding the shell
attached to the lama branch with his right hand and hitting it against the
body of the mpungu, all while speaking to the mpungu. In this position,
the three lukubas function as a microphone, resonating in stereo, their cir-
cular shape (nkaka) indicating protection and conveying that the lukuba’s
ability to listen is secured.
Mpungu a Nkama belongs to the same tradition of Kongo art as the
nkisi featured by scholars and displayed in museum collections, and many
of the techniques utilized in its production are directly linked to prece-
dents documented in early descriptions of Kongo art and related traditions
in both the Republic of the Congo and the Democratic Republic of the
Congo. These include the identification of Sîmbi’s vital energy as critical to
the transmission of power and strength from the natural elements incorpo-
rated in miniature and the manner of recharging the vitality and potency of
the mpungu achieved through its “re-dressing” every three years.
The fabric covering the Mpungu a Nkama is seen to signify its life force
and both represents and protects the medicinal substances (and their re-
spective healing properties) residing in the mpungu’s interior. Its red color,
the sign of maturity and protection, complements its other outward indi-
cators of power and strength. It is believed that this cloth dressing needs
to be changed multiple times over the course of the mpungu’s functional
life—as, it is said, the way a snake sheds its skin. The act of shedding old
and donning new “skin” once every three years is a means by which the
mpungu is believed to archive memories of its past use and regenerate its
strength, giving it the ability to change and shape the course of events in
the present and the future. The garland made from leopard and hyena pelt
that encircles the mpungu represents durability and strength of mind and
can be either replaced or cleaned and reattached following the changing of
the cloth.
The idea of dressing and re-dressing the mpungu as a means for re-
charging its power is consistent with descriptions of early religious objects
provided by Cavazzi and Olfert Dapper. The visual elements of changing
the mpungu’s dressing and the association of such an act with recharging
its life power allow clients to understand that a new phase of the mpungu’s
conceptual realm has begun. The mpungu’s resulting fresh surface, new
look, and clean smell help practitioners internalize its evolving empower-
ment and renewed, heightened potency.
Figure 123 shows an example of a chief’s cane, known as Mvuala a
Mpungu, used by the Nfumu a Makanda Felipe Antonio Dilu, who was
born in 1930 at Ntadi dia Muingu (Pedra do Feitiço). This is an example
of an mpungu’s taking the form of an object used in daily life and drives
home the fact that an mpungu is, in essence, the enclosure of the vitality of
a spirit, a containment that can take on any number of aesthetic forms, from
the more typically documented pouch or studded figure, to the mvuala
f i g U r e 12 3 mvuala (chief’s staff ) currently used by nfumu a makanda (family chief)

Felipe antonio dilu. pedra do Feitiço, angola, 2010.
cane, to the human form described in the next paragraph. The visual vi-
tality of the mvuala is expressed through a very distinct iconography. The
emblem of the sîmbi spirit is depicted by a snake that curves five times
around the base of the vertical staff, suggesting the multiplicity of sîmbi
and signifying that the human is surrounded by yisimbi and the ances-
tors. The second notable element in the mvuala’s design is the double de-
piction of a human face, which represents all humans in the realm of the
living, followed by a diamond (tadi), which represents the idea of the an-
cestors’ vital power manifest on the cane. The double diamond echoes the
idea of multiplicity, further suggestive of the plural presence of the ances-
tors on the cane and the concepts of protection and completion. The clear
depiction of three rings further emphasizes the strength borne from ele-
ments elsewhere on the cane and represents the three realms from which
the mvuala derives its power: the ancestors, the social, and the physical.
Finally, the image of a fist (moko), known as tuka kuma vata, is the sign
of ultimate protection, with the fi ngers closed around a space formed be-
tween the fi ngers and the palm of the hand that symbolizes a center from
the beginning to the end.
Figures 124 and 125 show an example of the human manifestation of
an mpungu, in this case, Nganga a Nkisi Masampu Antonio. The nganga
a nkisi has turned the human body into an object of worship (an Mpungu
a Ntu, or Human Mpungu) in place of the more typical figures or objects
f i g U r e S 12 4 –12 5
nganga a nkisi masampu
antonio. pedra do
12 4 12 5
Feitiço, angola, 2010.
and has used garments in selected colors and attached adornments such
as bells (dibingila) and garlands made of natural and manmade materi-
als. Whereas this human body becomes an mpungu through the attach-
ment and adornment of specifically selected objects and materials, its use
is not dissimilar to the manner in which the human body becomes a Kini-
umba kia Mbumba through the cutting of the skin and insertion of bilongo
described previously.
In interpreting the various elements of the Mpungu a Ntu, note fi rst
the two dots painted on the feet, which symbolize Sîmbi Kumbu Nganga
through the brightness of the luvemba (kaolin) and allude to the two realms,
one of the living, the other of the ancestors. The second important element
in the way this figure has been adorned is the bell held in his left hand and
used to summon the Sîmbi spirit, which, in this case, is the Sîmbi of the
Zaire River. The broom (sansa luvemba) held in his right hand indicates
spiritual cleansing, while the rings or garlands of cloth looped around the
neck and crossing on his front and back, called nkangazi, signify an affi rma-
tion of the ancestors and, by forming the cosmogram for a crossroads, fur-
ther reference sîmbi. The garland made from the leaves of a plant known as
dibunzu rests on the left shoulder. It crosses the body to the right to reach
the hips. It is called mobola and tells of the presence of ndoki, or sorcery,
against which the white paint on the figure’s face is intended to protect.
Like the minkisi from Central Africa, prendas from Cuba are rich in de-
tail and graphic significance. Figure 126 shows a common prenda, known
as Chola Nguengue, used in
Palo Monte. It is also known as
Mama Chola (Mother Love) or
Mama Mpungu (Power Spirit).
The term chola in Cuba comes
from the word zola in Kikongo,
which means “love,”56 or
nzola, which means “wish”
or “desire.”57 The use of this
term ties into the Kongo un-
derstanding of generosity. The
term nguengue also has its
roots in Kikongo and can be
traced to the word nwenga or
nwengwa, which means “to be
obligated”58 or “to be tight,
very tight,”59 from wenga, “to
squeal.” 60 These meanings fold
into one another so that Chola
Nguengue as a whole signifies f i g U r e 126 prenda called Chola
goodwill and generosity. nguengue. Osvaldo Fresneda Bachiller,
Within Palo Monte, Chola havana, Cuba. (photograph by lisa maya
Nguengue embodies several Knauer, 2000.)
spirits, or as they are termed within the religion, caminos, or roads. These
are as follows:
Lango Gongoro: Turtle water, fresh springwater, water generally
Lango Mpungo: Water of the fi rst day of May, sky water, pure water that
represents celestial power (God)
Lango Ndoki: Bad water that comes with rain, diseases, floods, and bad
weather
Lango Tango Lemba: Noon rain that represents good news and premo-
nitions
Lango Kalunga Ndoki: Storm61
Chola Nguengue’s basic functions are healing physical problems, in-
cluding headaches, migraines, the flu, hepatitis, and intestinal failures. The
prenda is also used to solve psychological problems and domestic disputes,
infertility, and infidelity and to increase the success of a family. As a result,
Chola is believed to represent the power of family or domestic law.62
As seen in Figure 126, Chola Nguengue is made in a ceramic vessel,
colored in orange, yellow, or ocher colors that are meant to represent the
water spirit. This coloration represents the chola syncretized in Cuba. The
vessel is typically decorated with a graphic sign that depicts the spiritual
properties of Chola, love and generosity. The stamp drawn on the outside
of the container represents Chola, a triangle with an arrow dividing it into
two parts. The triangle is open at its base, indicating that the spirits are ris-
ing up from under the water and becoming real in the world of the living,
a transformation represented by the dots in the
upper part of the triangle. The vertical arrow
marks the motion in both directions, presum-
ably beginning under the water. The horizon-
tal arrow in the center of the triangle is used
to mark the frontier (kalûnga), in this case the
river. The two arrows intercept the horizontal
line, forming another cross of five corners, the
sign that indicates that this prenda is working
and can drive the energy to another level.
A second example from Cuba is seen in Fig-
ure 127. This prenda is named Baluande, but it
is also known as Mama Kalûnga, Madre Agua
(Mother Water), Kalûnga, Luna Nueva (New
Moon), Siete Sayas (Seven Scarves), Mboma (a
type of snake), and Mbumba Mamba (Secret
Water). The healing properties of Baluande are
to fortify the feet and bones, to treat skin irri-
tation and burns, to cure digestive problems
and infections of the bladder, to control female f i g U r e 127 prenda called Baluande.
menstruation and hemorrhaging, and to abort Osvaldo Fresneda Bachiller, havana, Cuba.
a fetus. (photograph by lisa maya Knauer, 2000.)
Like Chola, Baluande is a kind of prenda that represents a water spirit.

Its connection to a water spirit is evident in its name, as the word luande
comes from nlangu, which means “water” and the prefi x ba- signifies “be-
longing.”63 The other names for this prenda further emphasize its relation
to water. Beyond the self-evident Mother Water (Madre Agua), Mbumba
Mamba can be translated from Kikongo as “secret water,”64 Kalûnga means
“ocean,” and Mama Kalûnga means “great river” or “ocean.”
Its physical attributes are similarly evocative of water, as Baluande has to
be made in a ceramic vessel and must be colored a shade of blue. Figure 127
shows a series of stamps placed on the surface of the Baluande vessel that
graphically identify the prenda’s name. The principal sign of Baluande is the
lower circle bisected by two arrows, one vertical, one horizontal, which nor-
mally have a dot in each segment and an arrow pointing west. The arrow
indicates the motion of the spirit, always flowing from east to west—like the
trajectory of the sun from sunrise to sunset and consistent with the ocean’s
tide. The spirit’s motion takes place inside the prenda, which contains sea-
water and operates as a miniature ocean, with tidal movements coordinated
with that of the ocean closest to where the prenda is housed. The skull on
top of this prenda, also carrying a stamp that means water, is from the pren-
da’s dominant spirit and controls the object’s power.
the physical Scripture: integration of Sound and form
Given the complexity of graphic writing systems and the variety of their
multifaceted components, I have examined the various components in turn.
In doing so, I have aimed to clearly present the ways in which these two-
and three-dimensional forms are created, to examine the belief systems that
underlie their production and use, and to describe the meanings embed-
ded in and conveyed by their individual elements. However, in practice, the
components of graphic writing systems cannot be understood as completely
distinct, as at the core of much of Bakongo and Bakongo-descended reli-
gious practice and communication is the way in which these components
are used together and are interdependent. It is not possible to fully describe
or understand the roles fulfi lled by minkisi and prendas in Kongo culture,
in Africa and Cuba, respectively, without examining how they interact with
their two-dimensional counterparts: bidimbu and fi rmas.
In Central Africa, as an nganga is creating an nkisi, every cut and mark
he makes is a symbol that adds to the message carried by the nkisi. In addi-
tion to this actual “writing” done by the priest as he creates, activates, and
uses an nkisi, the symbols and their meanings provide a means by which to
in effect “read” an nkisi. As demonstrated previously, each shape and mark
on an nkisi is related to a written sign, and continuity between these mean-
ings and the religious and cultural uses of the nkisi is apparent. The link
between the two-dimensional expression of religious concepts and the man-
ifestation of such concepts in three-dimensional form is particularly strong
in Cuba, where the use of fi rmas is intimately intertwined with the produc-
f i g U r e 12 8 nso a nkisi front door

according to the practice of palo monte
in matanzas, Cuba. (From Felipe Garcia
villamil sketches, los angeles, California,
2000. drawing by michael lee poy, private
collection. photograph by susan Cole, yale
University art Gallery.)
tion and use of prendas. While the prendas house the spirits, the fi rma is
what identifies those spirits, what calls their energy forth, and, once acti-
vated, what enables any and all communication between the priest, the
practitioner, and the spirit.
Two- and three-dimensional forms interact most closely within the
space of religious practice. The most straightforward example of the man-
ner in which two-dimensional writing is used in a physical space is its func-
tion in defi ning and publicly identifying a particular space as one used for
religious activity. Figure 128 shows an example of contemporary graphic
writing being used to identify the name of a Palo Monte house in Cuba.
For the Palo Monte house in Cuba known as munanso, in Kikongo
in Central Africa as nso nganga or nso a nkisi,65 the fi rma on the door not
only identifies the building as one where religious activity takes place but
also indicates which prenda is used inside the house and documents events
in the lives of the priest and other members of the house. The stamps on
the ground in front of the door provide information on how to enter and
exit the house; the left stamp indicates where the entrance is, and the right
stamp notes that practitioners may enter and exit from the same door.
The plan in Figure 129 shows the interior of an Nso a Nkisi. The letters
(A, B, C, and D) represent the position of the Nkarime guards or stamps
that guard the corners and mark the limits of the room. The fi rmas also
f i g U r e 12 9 depiction of a floor plan for

the interior of a nso a nkisi according to the
practice of palo monte in matanzas, Cuba.
(From Felipe Garcia villamil sketches, los
angeles, California, 2000. drawing by michael
lee poy, private collection. photograph by
susan Cole, yale University art Gallery.)
point to the location of each prenda with each signature oriented away from
the room’s center in the direction of the prenda. The traditional orienta-
tion of the prendas in a house is as follows: Nsasi to the northeast, Sara-
banda to the northwest, Kikoroto to the southeast, and Mama Chola to the
southwest. Although not illustrated in this example, each corner can hold
as many as seven prendas. Graphic depictions on the walls behind and near
a prenda also serve to identify which prenda or group of prendas is located
in each corner.
Another important way in which fi rma usage is integrated with that of
prendas is the manner in which a signature serves as a guide for the par-
ticular ceremony being performed. A fi rma is capable of literally providing
instructions to the priest and the priest’s assistants throughout the cere-
mony. It informs them of the order in which to do things, the materials
and medicinal elements that must be used, and how to combine them, and
it contains information on the spoken or sung words that must accompany
the actions.
In addition to providing independent instructions, the aesthetic and
substantive content of a fi rma relates directly to the prenda or prendas being
used in a ceremony. Specific stamps within a signature often correspond to
and communicate with physical elements inside the prenda. Such commu-
nication allows the paired stamps and elements to reflect the power of the
other and creates what can be described as a “magnetic field.”66 Once this
connection is established, problems can be solved, healing can occur, and
questions can be answered. This way, energy is essentially extended beyond
the prenda to encompass those in the room. Because an individual cannot
be inside the physical space of the prenda, the activation process enables
the joining of the individual and the power of the prenda outside the ob-
ject. The importance of a fi rma in establishing a connection between the

power of the prenda and the outside world cannot be overstated. In addi-
tion to fulfi lling this role within the context of a ceremony in a religious
house, some fi rmas are specifically used to establish this connection in dif-
ferent locations.
A fi nal example of the ways in which fi rmas and prendas are interre-
lated is seen in the context of a divination ceremony. Divination is a fre-
quent and important activity undertaken by paleros and relies heavily on
the energy and power created through the interaction of the prenda and the
fi rma. During a divination ceremony, the priest faces northeast, toward an
activated prenda. Depending on the reason for a divination, the priest may
choose to address a certain prenda. However, whichever prenda is chosen,
respects must also be paid to the oldest prenda in the house. In addition,
if certain things cannot be answered or solved by a less senior prenda, the
priest will always return to the oldest prenda to try again.
When the divination begins, a fi rma on the ground is used as the divi-
nation board. In addition to coded numeric and positional meanings of the
divination objects themselves, where they fall on the fi rma itself is central to
their meaning and the results of the divination ceremony. The controlling
force behind these results and the answers they provide comes directly from
the energy of the spirit or spirits within the prenda.
mambo: Writing oUt LoUd

Musical performance and the utterance of chants form an integral part of
graphic communication systems. Like fi rmas and prendas, songs and chants
are used in ritual performances in Central Africa and in Palo Monte prac-
tice in Cuba to invoke powerful spiritual forces. Coded sounds attract these
forces through verbal systems known as mambo.67 Known more widely as
a popular form of Cuban music, mambos, with their ancestry in Central
Africa, are actually sacred communications between human beings and nat-
ural and cosmic forces. This system, combining rhythmic and lyrical mes-
sages, gives rise to living historical documents that express information about
the religious ceremonies, philosophies, and histories of the Kongo people.
The term mambo has etymological roots in Kikongo, coming from the word
màmbu 68 (plural) or diambu 69 (singular), which indicates a care, concern,
problem, or issue, or a statement, talk, or speech, or an important matter.
Mambos that have been sung for centuries continue to be heard in Ba-
kongo communities in Central Africa and Cuba today. Mambos are learned
through religious practice, with a collective memory serving to fi ll holes in
an individual’s repertoire. When used, mambos are generally performed in
call-and-response form: lines sung by priests are either echoed or answered
by religious practitioners. Different mambos are associated with different
meanings, needs, and actions. For example, there are mambos that serve to
begin a ceremony, to wake a spirit, to enhance spiritual communication, for
divination, purification, or initiation, and to close a ritual. Mambos are also
associated with particular spirits, and these associations must be taken into
consideration when mambos are selected.
To highlight the depth and richness of the mambo tradition, I will
explore some of these roles and look at different examples collected from
the Democratic Republic of the Congo and from Cuba. Included here are
examples that demonstrate the range of functions fi lled by mambos and
illustrate the continuity between the contemporary oral traditions of the
Bakongo on two continents.
While I argue that mambos are a vital component of broader graphic
writing systems, they have been more traditionally considered under the
smaller umbrella of oral traditions. Martin Lienhard, in his book O mare o
mato: Histórias da escravidão,70 describes oral tradition in Africa and across
various colonial societies with Afro-religious traditions in the diaspora as
a system of knowledge. Lienhard argues that oral traditions transform the
process of identity formation and preserve the memory and heritage of Afri-
can peoples through colonialization, dislocation, and a continuous process
of creolization. Jan Vansina, in Oral Tradition as History, similarly recog-
nizes the role of oral tradition in cultural self-validation and achievement.
Vansina describes oral knowledge as a kind of historical record of tradi-
tion, stating, “The mind through memory carries culture from generation
to generation.”71 Vansina explains the way in which the lessons conveyed
through oral messages allow us to remember, fertilizing our minds with
memories and instructions for living that will root our sense of continuity
and belonging over time. Though unwritten, these oral messages become
a record of traditional societies, “their preservation entrusted to the mem-
ory of successive generations of peoples.”72 Mambos clearly serve these pur-
poses, and their role in forming, preserving, and transferring memories and
community values has only been strengthened by their place within the
broader structure of Kongo graphic writing systems.
Following the importation of enslaved Bakongo to the Spanish Ca-
ribbean during the colonial period, a Creole language, known in Cuba as
Bozal, developed from the fusion of Spanish and Kikongo words and was
based on the Bantu language structures.73 In addition to representing a
synthesis or bridging of different linguistic traditions, Bozal as a language
is also evidence of articulation of cultural differences and preservation of a
people’s identity in a new space, time, and historical memory. The mambo
tradition similarly serves as an example of negotiated cultural characteristics
manifest through a multivocal mode of linking Western and African prac-
tices. In the introduction to Writing Culture: The Poetics and Politics of Eth-
nography, James Clifford and George E. Marcus refer to linguistic trends
in Caribbean literature and use the writer Aimé Césaire as an example of a
complex hybridist, a new literary type who takes the notion of classic French
writing and constructs a version far from the original that is both relevant
to the present and articulated within and against a colonial tongue. A pro-
cess similar to what Clifford and Marcus describe arguably occurred in the
development of mambo lyrics in Cuba, and a study of these lyrics will show
a new range of neologisms punctuated by the rhythms of African words and

linguistic specificity. Mambos are the encyclopedia of the tradition.
The primary function of the lyrics of a mambo is to articulate reli-
gious exegesis and the religious discourse that contains fragments of Kongo
mythology, moral philosophy, and historical narrative. However, these lyr-
ics also serve to document the changes and adaptations in the language
used to express these notions. In this documentary capacity, mambo lyrics
in Cuba bear a certain responsibility for both building and tracing networks
of reciprocal influences between Kongo culture, European traditions, and
those of other African cultural environments in the New World such as the
Yoruba. The work of Armin Schwegler demonstrates the multiple linguis-
tic links between the Palo Monte religion and the Creole Bozal that devel-
oped alongside Spanish in colonial Cuba. The following mambo is cited in
his “The Vocabulary (Ritual) Bantú de Cuba”:
Sála! mi nganga, salalo!;

Nsunga! Da vuelta l’ ingenio
Arriba munda tó moana.
Nsunga!, vamo nsunga . . . !74
Work! My nkisi, work it!

Nkisi! Make a circle in the sugar mill
Above [is] the ancestor [of] all [our] sons.
Nkisi! Let’s go nkisi . . . !
The integration of Spanish and Kikongo words is notable in this

mambo, as is the manner in which the lyrics can be traced to spiritual con-
cepts among the Bakongo. For example, Sála comes from the word nsala,
which literally means “plumage,” “feathers,” or “down” in Kikongo, but
connotes spiritual work, protection, and balance when used within the reli-
gious context in conjunction with the term Nganga or nkisi.75 In the sec-
ond line, nsunga76 is used to refer to a specific nkisi, but it can be literally
translated as “tobacco” or “snuff.” In this context, nsúnga is a metaphor
for communication, distance, and privacy. The remainder of the line, “Da
vuelta l’ ingenio,” refers to the location and the action of moving in a circle,
alluding to a complete spiritual journey, made in circular form, to invoke the
ancestors, absorb their mystical power, and ask for their protection. Finally,
the third line, “Arriba munda tó moana,” combines creolized Spanish for
high or above (arriba) the world (munda, from mundo) with the Kikongo
term for child, offspring, son, descendant, or human being, moana from
the word mwana,77 to mean “in full,” “above this human world.” The fi nal
sentence, “Nsunga!, vamo nsunga . . . !” translates as “Nkisi, let’s go!” and
stresses movement, in this case the crossing of the boundary between the
two worlds, coming back after death, or the existence of a specific relation-
ship between practitioners, elders, spiritual forces, and ancestors.
The overlapping languages and forms of communication of the mambo
incorporate sounds that connect the living body with ancestral forces and
diverse manifestations of cosmic vibrations. Its rhythms represent symbolic

phrases that express the strength of energy through stories told in Span-
ish and Kikongo. Just as minkisi and fi rmas must be activated, a mambo is
brought forth by the rhythmic combination of words and sounds as phrases
of energy. Thompson best describes what occurs when this percussive dia-
logue is established: “In experiencing the mambo, people have the control
to enter the body and the entrance to the universe. If you have body con-
trol and mind control you will be able to control the world.”78 When these
phrases are activated together with graphic written expressions, the result
is a dialogue between the universe and the practitioner that incorporates
ancestors and nature into a single discussion.
As in the example from Cuba cited earlier, mambo lyrics often request
or demand that a particular spirit appear in a ceremony and perform specific
motions or actions necessary to achieve a particular goal. Also demonstrat-
ing this use, the following mambu, recorded in the Democratic Republic of
the Congo by Joseph van Wing and included in his essay “Bakongo Magic,”
is used to call forth the spirit Nkosi (the Lion) from its place in the world
of the ancestors.
E nkosi
Kimenga kiaku unuene kio!
A nsidi sa,
Zibula makutu,
Nge nkodi mbungu zi menga,
Nge muntu ye zina,
Mpati aku mono
Nganga’ku mono.
Utuka ku mani?
Utuka ku na SambaNa Samba ukubakila ku ba mabata zandi,
Ba mbuta zandi bakutombula ku masa.79
Eh Nkosi,
Thy blood thou hast seen and drunk;
I am going to speak to thee,
Listen to me
Thou, Nkosi who sheds blood,
Thou, a person with thy name,
Thy master, it is I.
Thy nganga [priest], it is I;
For, from who dost thou come?
Thou comest from the lord of Samba.
The lord of Samba thou hast had from his ancestors,
His ancestors have made thee rise up from the water.
Similarly, the following mambu, documented by Efraim Andersson

from the Sundi people and the Nguzism 80 movement in Congo Kinshasa,
was traditionally used to call upon a spirit to protect the men during a hunt.
Normally used in a Bascule ceremony to bless the water in the bottles that
the hunters will carry with them, this chant is now sung by three members
of the religious group at the beginning of every meeting.81
E, balula balulanga ntima e.

E, sekula sekulanga ntima e.
E, Tata sekulanga ntima e.
E, Mama, sekulanga ntima e.
Ka lumweni ko, Mpeve a Nzambi
Ni yayi kwiza82
O, let us lift up our hearts.

O, let us pour out our hearts.
O, Father, constantly purify the heart.
O, Mother, constantly purify the heart.
Do you not see that it is
God’s spirit that is coming?
It should be noted that while both fi rmas and mambos can function
independently, their power is compromised or lessened when they are used
alone. When they are performed together, these religious tools echo one
another’s message and are thus able to call forth the full power of a spirit. A
mambo has the capacity to activate the signature; so without its sacred lyr-
ics, spoken or sung in rhythmic accompaniment, the structure, and thus the
meaning, of the signature is incomplete.
Within and beyond a religious context, mambos are used to convey
specific philosophical and moral concepts, many of which explore the rela-
tionship between humans and nature and echo the lessons of the drawn
fi rmas. The following mambu is a proverb from Cabinda, Angola, that cor-
relates with a divination drawing that allows the priest to receive social,
educational, and literary lessons and metaphysical messages regarding the
weather, harvests, illness, birth, death, and dreams. The fi rst rendition is
the original Kikongo proverb, while the second is a summary of the lesson
told therein.
Ngandu, mbambi i Kimbolo

fuzi ngangu lisakasa kimbolo
Abu ti mbele mbambi iende nsengele
Podi bekuama ko.
Lizard and Crocodile can confront force.

For this reason they get along.
The big lizard—so similar to the Crocodile—nevertheless, much smaller
than either one,
The big ones frequently abuse their force and despise the smaller.83
The following example was provided by Felipe Garcia Villamil and is

a mambo of Palo Monte Mayombe from the tradition in Matanzas, Cuba.
This mambo refers to philosophical knowledge that is used during initiation

of new practitioners into the religion. The song both provides instructions
to participants in the ceremony and serves to send a report of the spiritual
event, transmitting news, orders, and narration. As such, this mambo has
an educational function among the practitioners and is richer in technical
and religious content than may be apparent from a simple translation.
Kuiniani yosi tata dian cunancheto

Tangume tata cuyere
Kuiniani yosi Cunancheto
Engando Batalla Congo
Dian munanso cholo boroconteto batalla kuisiao.84
Who was the fi rst African priest?

It was Tangume the King
Which was the fi rst African nkisi?
It was a Kongo battle
For the fight between caimans that arose in the presence of Tangume.
Moral and philosophical lessons conveyed through mambos bleed into

notions of loss and spirituality. Fernando Ortiz, in his work Poesía y canto
de los negros afrocubanos, includes a chant of a woman who is responding to
the death of her husband. This mambo can be understood as both a form
of mourning and a celebration of life. The medium can also be understood
as an instrument with which to express a deeper religious purpose and com-
municate with higher spirits. Ultimately, it is considered a channel for reve-
lations within the religious tradition.
E yaya nzonzi e,
unsila ntangu iko didingi e,
e yaya nzonzi
ubonga ubonga meso,
utula ku manima;
nki nzila uyokila, ya tadi;
e, nzonzi e,
nga bima usadindingi bukuka,
a ya nzonzi.85
Oh departed elder, master of words

I will follow you in the path of the sun forever
Senior master of words
The light’s gone out of your eyes, you’re dead
You can’t turn back
Which way will the witness pass by?
Oh speaker
And with what things and where
Will you go dear master of words? 86
These few examples represent only the beginning of an exceedingly rich

and complex communicative model used by the Bakongo and their descen-
dants on both sides of the Atlantic. Inevitably and inseparably integrated
with the equally complex two-dimensional writing and three-dimensional
religious objects, mambos represent a critical component of Kongo graphic
writing systems that have formed and continue to preserve Kongo culture,
philosophy, religious beliefs, and ultimately identity.
C H A P T E R
6
Conclusion
Intended to encapsulate my work on visual practices in Central Africa and

the Kongo diaspora in Cuba, Kongo Graphic Writing and Other Narra-
tives of the Sign has explored the extensive range of visual communication
forms documented across Bakongo and Bakongo-descended communities
in Central Africa and Cuba and demonstrated the systematic usage of such
forms and the complex meanings conveyed through them. After introduc-
ing the historical context from which the Kongo emerged as well as the
stages of extreme disruption imposed by the “civilizing,” colonizing, and
enslaving of the Bakongo, this book has focused on the manner in which
the Bakongo contextualize and interpret the world around them—from the
basic cosmology underlying Kongo culture to the systems of visual commu-
nication through which the Bakongo express, interpret, and convey their
beliefs. Encompassing Kongo myths of origin, the powers and character-
istics the Bakongo attribute to natural and cosmic forces, and the choreo-
graphed interactions between humans and God at all stages of the life cycle,
such expressions are at once complex, powerful, and visually striking. By
illustrating the breadth and depth of interrelated visual practices and the
shared, structured meanings underlying them, I have argued that the use
of such practices by the Bakongo and their descendants is systematic in na-
ture and that such practices combine to form a rich communication tradi-
tion that is as valid a form of writing as any literary or other tradition in the
West. In addition, by weaving together the strands of past and present prac-
tice in Central Africa and Cuba and examining their intertwined histories
and parallel development, as well as the similarities in their beliefs, rituals,
and graphic forms, I have demonstrated a continuity in both form and sub-
stance that speaks to the strength of Bakongo culture and its lasting legacy
in Central Africa and the Americas.
I have sought to broaden the existing fields of African art history, an-
thropology, and linguistics, seeking recognition for a wide range of graphic
expressions and arguing that written symbols, religious objects, lyrical oral
traditions, and uses of the human body should be conceptualized as art
forms. More importantly, I have argued that these expressions have them-
selves served as producers of aesthetic value and as the bearers and trans
ferrers of millennia of Kongo culture, memory, and faith.
191
I believe that this book, with its dual attention to minutiae and many
cultural and spiritual concepts, has demonstrated that there exists great
continuity in the form and substance of religious beliefs, moral philosophy,
and visual communication modes of the Bakongo across time and space.
I also hope that it has illustrated the degree to which the varied graphic
tools are used in a coherent and integrated fashion to communicate, wor-
ship, teach, learn, and forge identities. Finally, I believe that the concept
of graphic writing systems, in light of the simultaneous strength and flex-
ibility that enabled these systems to flourish over the past several thousand
years, is a useful framework within which to think about the roles of art and
expression in fostering cultural resilience, ingenuity, creativity, and faith in
the face of dislocation, slavery, and attempted deculturation.
In addition to the obvious potential extensions of this work—includ-
ing a more detailed exploration of rupestrian sites and symbols in Central
Africa—far more work can be done on Kongo graphic writing systems in
the diaspora. In particular, Haiti, with its active practice of Voudou and use
of Vévé graphic writing, Umbanda and Candomble religions in Brazil and
the use of Ponto Riscado signs there, revival signs in Jamaica, and founda-
tion drawings in Trinidad all present rich potential for further study. Far-
ther afield, there is the opportunity to document graphic communication
among the little-studied African population in Belize or the Djuka peo-
ple and their writing in Suriname and Guyana. Similarly vast opportunities
exist for future study of graphic writing system usage among other African
cultures and their diasporas, including an expansion of the existing litera-
ture on Nsibidi writing among the Ejagham people of Cameroon and the
examination of graphic forms with roots in West Africa among the Mende
and Vai.
Notes
Chapter 1: Introduction
1. Wyatt MacGaffey, “Ethnography and the Closing of the Frontier in Lower
Congo, 1885–1921,” Africa: Journal of the International African Institute, 86,
no. 3 (1986): 274.
2. Simon Battestini, African Writing and Text (New York: Legas, 2000), pp. 23–24.
3. Ibid., p. 25. See L. Lévy-Bruhl, L’âme primitive (Paris: Presses Universitaire de
France, 1963); C. G. Jung, Man and His Symbols (New York: Anchor Books,
Doubleday, 1964).
4. See Hans Jensen, Sign, Symbol, and Script: An Account of Man’s Efforts to Write
(London: Allen and Unwin, 1935); Joseph H. Greenberg, The Languages of
Africa, Publication 25 of the Indiana University Research Center in Anthropol-
ogy, Folklore, and Linguistics (Bloomington: Indiana University, 1966; first pub-
lished in 1963 in the International Journal of American Linguistics, 29, no. 1, pt.
2 [January]); J. DeFrancis, Visible Speech: The Diverse Oneness of Writing Systems
(Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1989); David Dalby, L’Afrique et la lettre
(Lagos: Center Culturel Français, 1986).
5. Marcel Griaule, Dieu d’eau: Entretiens avec Ogotemmêli (Paris: Fayar, 1966);
Marcel Griaule and G. Dieterlen, Signes graphiques soudanais (Paris: Hermann,
1951). See Marcel Griaule and G. Dieterlen, Le renard pâle (Paris: Institut
D’Ethnologie, 1965).
6. Wyatt MacGaffey, Astonishment and Power (Washington, DC: Smithsonian Insti-
tution Press, 1993), pp. 180–203.
7. Ibid., p. 189.
8. Ibid., pp. 180, 189.
9. Evan M. Maurer and Allen F. Roberts. Tabwa: The Rising of a New Moon: A Cen-
tury of Tabwa Art (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Museum of Art, 1985).
10. Ibid.; Allen F. Roberts and Mary N. Roberts, Memory: Luba Art in the Making of
History (New York: Prestel, 1997).
11. Victor Turner, The Forest of Symbols: Aspects of Ndembu Ritual (Ithaca, NY: Cor-
nell University Press, 1967). See Turner, The Drums of Affliction (Oxford, UK:
Clarendon, 1968).
12. Including Alejo Carpentier and Nicolás Guillén; see Nicolás Guillén, “Nación y
mestizaje,” in Làzara Menéndez, ed., Estudios afro-cubanos, vol. 1 (Havana: Uni-
versidad de la Habana, 1991).
13. Fernando Ortiz, Cuban Counterpoint: Tobacco and Sugar, trans. Harriet de Onís
(Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1995), p. 97.
14. Bronislaw Malinowski, “Introduction,” in Ortiz, Cuban Counterpoint, p. 54.
15. Ibid.
16. Fernando Ortiz, Glosario de afronegrismos (Havana: El Siglo XX, 1924).
17. See Hubert H. S. Aimes, A History of Slavery in Cuba, 1511 to 1868 (New York:
G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1907).
193
194 N o t e s t o Pa g e s 1 1 – 1 8
18. Argeliers León, “De paleros y fi rmas se trata,” Revista Unión, 1 (Havana: UNEAC,
1986).
19. Eric Wolf, Europe and the People without History (Berkeley: University of Califor-
nia Press, 1982).
chapter 2: the atlantic passage: the Spread of Kongo belief

in africa and to the americas
1. John Desmond Clark, The Prehistory of Africa (New York: Praeger, 1970), p. 211.
2. James L. Newman, The People of Africa: A Geographic Interpretation (New
Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1995), p. 141. See Jan Vansina, Paths in the
Rainforests: Toward a History of Political Tradition in Equatorial Africa (Madi-
son: University of Wisconsin Press, 1990), pp. 3–16.
3. Georges Balandier, Daily Life in the Kingdom of the Kongo (New York: Pantheon,
1968), pp. 19, 31. Balandier also refers to Nzaku, spelled Nsaku, as possessor of
nobility, lord, or master and name of the fi rst sovereign family. See also Joseph
van Wing, Études Bakongos: Histories et sociologie (Brussels: Goemaere, 1921).
4. Balandier, Daily Life in the Kingdom of the Kongo, p. 33.
5. Wing, Études Bakongos: Histories et sociologie, pp. 80–81.
6. Balandier, Daily Life in the Kingdom of the Kongo, pp. 33–34. The passage also
references the traditional religious practice of worshiping ancestors through cer-
emonies involving human bones, “the bone of our ancestors, we brought, we use
them to anoint the chiefs.” The importance of bones and the associated worship
of the ancestors are also central to Kongo-based religious practice in Cuba, where
Palo Monte ceremonies designed to honor the vitality of the ancestors involve
the speaking of an opening phrase to call the spirit Mambe-Yo. Mambe is the
fi rst spirit that is needed for the creation of any kind of prenda and becomes the
foundation of memory for all of the spirit that are transforming into stone at the
beginning of life, just as humans and animals after death become bones and then
stone. See Bárbaro Martínez-Ruiz, “Mambo Comes from the Soul,” Odantalan
02 (Lisbon: PangeiArt, 2002), pp. 88–117.
7. Newman, The People of Africa, pp. 140–141. See Efraim Andersson, Messianic
Popular Movements in the Lower Congo (Uppsala: Almqvist and Wiksells Bok-
tryckeri AB, 1958), p. 9.
8. Newman, The People of Africa, p. 38.
9. Ibid., p. 33.
10. John Thornton, Africa and Africans in the Making of the Atlantic World, 1400–
1800 (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 1998), pp. 72–98.
11. Joseph C. Miller, Way of Death: Merchant Capitalism and the Angolan Slave
Trade, 1730–1830 (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1996), pp. 105–140.
12. Balandier, Daily Life in the Kingdom of the Kongo, p. 28. See Jean Cuvelier, Rela-
tions sur le Congo du père Laurent de Lucques (1700–1717) (Brussels: Institut
Royal Colonial Belge, 1953), p. 149.
13. Conversation with members of traditional council (lumbu), Mbanza Kongo, An-
gola, 2006.
14. Anne Hilton, The Kingdom of Kongo (Oxford, UK: Clarendon Press, 1985), p. 9.
15. Evan M. Maurer and Allen F. Roberts, Tabwa: The Rising of a New Moon: A Cen-
tury of Tabwa Art (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Museum of Art, 1985).
16. Balandier, Daily Life the Kingdom of the Kongo, p. 33.
17. John Desmond Clark, Prehistoric Cultures of Northeast Angola and Their Signifi-
cance in Tropical Africa (Lisbon: Museu do Dundo, 1963). Clark’s work has been
heavily cited by Angolan, Portuguese, and French scholars from the 1960s to the
present, including Camerata Franca, Manuel Gutierrez, J. Vicente Martins, M.
Ramos, A. Rodrigues, José Redinha, Júnior Santos, and Carlos J. Everdosa.
N o t e s t o Pa g e s 1 8 – 2 1 195
18. John Thornton, “The Origin and Early History of the Kingdom of Kongo, c. 1350–
1550,” International Journal of African Historical Studies, 34, no. 1 (2001): 119.
19. John Thornton, The Kingdom of Kongo: Civil War and Transformation 1641–
1718 (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1983), p. 26.
20. Ibid.
21. Newman, The People of Africa, pp. 150–151.
22. Andersson, Messianic Popular Movements, p. 29.
23. Ibid., p. 31.
24. Ibid., p. 33.
25. Filippo Pigafetta, A Report of the Kingdom of Congo and of the Surrounding Coun-
tries: Drawn out of the Writings and Discourses of the Portuguese Duarte Lopez, ed.
and trans. Margarite Hutchinson (London: John Murray, 1881), pp. 76–78; orig-
inally published as Relatione del Reame di Congoe et della circonvicine contrade
(Rome, 1591). See Hilton, The Kingdom of Kongo, p. 5.
26. Hilton, The Kingdom of Kongo, p. ix. See Giovanni Francesco da Roma, Brève
relation de la fondation de la mission des freres mineurs capucins du seraphique
pere saint Francois au Royaume du Congo, et des particularites, coutumes et facons
de vivre des habitants de ce royaume, trans. François Bontinck (Louvain: Edi-
tions Nauwelaerts, 1964); originally published as Breve relatione del sucesso della
missione de Frati min. Capuccini del serafico P.S. Francesco al Regno del Congo
(Rome, 1648, 1649; Naples, 1648, Parma, 1649; Milan, 1649, 1651). António
Brásio, Monumenta missionária Africana: Africa ocidental (Lisbon: Agência
Geral do Ultramar), series 1, vols. 1–10 (1952–1965); series 2, vols. 1–3 (1958–
1964). Louis Jadin, “Aperçu de la situation du Congo et rite d’élection des rois
en 1775, d’après le P. Cherubino da Savona, missionaire au Congo de 1759 à
1774,” Bulletin de l’Institut Historique Belge de Rome, 35 (Brussels, 1963): 343–
419. Jean Cuvelier, “Note sur la documentation de l’histoire du Congo,” Bul-
letin des Séances de l’Institut Royal Colonial Belge, 34, no. 2 (Brussels, 1953):
443–470.
27. Hilton, The Kingdom of Kongo, p. x. “Included institutions with significant pri-
mary sources, unpublished reports of Antonio de Teruel in the Biblioteca d’Este,
Modera, and Juan de Santiago in Biblioteca del Palacio National, Madrid.”
28. Jan Vansina, Oral Tradition as History (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press,
1985); Kajsa Ekholm Friedman, Catastrophe and Creation: The Transformation
of an African Culture (Philadelphia: Harwood Academic, 1991).
29. Thornton, Africa and Africans in the Making of the Atlantic World; Miller, Ways
of Death.
30. Newman, The People of Africa, p. 151.
31. Miller, Ways of Death, p. 77.
32. Thornton, Africa and Africans in the Making of the Atlantic World, p. 51.
33. Balandier, Daily Life the Kingdom of the Kongo, p. 20.
34. Hilton, The Kingdom of Kongo, pp. 58–59.
35. Ibid., p. 60. Alfonso I was not the fi rst of the Kongo kings to convert to Cathol-
icism; instead, King Nzinga a Nkuwu became the fi rst Christian king under the
name of John the First after being baptized in May 1491.
36. Bárbaro Martínez-Ruiz, “Ma kisi nsi: l’Art des habitants de la région de Mbanza
Kongo,” in Christine Falgayrettes-Leveau, ed., Angola, fi gures de pouvoir (Paris:
Dapper Museum, 2010).
37. Herbert S. Klein, The Atlantic Slave Trade (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge Univer-
sity Press, 1999), p. 10.
38. The economic and political effects of this practice have been well-documented
and explored in Michael Gomez’s Exchanging Our Country Marks: The Transfor-
mation of African Identities in the Colonial and Antebellum South (Chapel Hill:
University of North Carolina Press, 1998), pp. 18, 134. Approximately 40 per-
196 N o t e s t o Pa g e s 2 2 – 2 5
cent of the 10.8–11.9 million slaves taken from Africa as a whole were taken from
Central Africa.
39. Antonio Nuñez Jiménez, Los esclavos negros (Havana: Ediciones Mec Graphic,
1998), p. 13. See also Jorge Castellanos and Isabel Castellanos, Cultura afro-
cubana (Miami: Ediciones Universal, 1988), vol. 1, pp. 20–21, noting the issu-
ing by the crown of licenses (celulas reales) in the second decade of the sixteenth
century.
40. Jan Rogozinski, A Brief History of the Caribbean (New York: Plume, 2000), p. 203.
41. Herbert S. Klein, personal manuscript, 2010, Wilson Library, Emory College.
Data accessed May 28, 2010. This number reflects Africans disembarked in all
regions of America by decade.
42. Ibid. Based on estimated African slaves recorded as having departed from Africa
with Cuba as the destination.
43. Ibid., pp. 21–22. See Jiménez, Los esclavos negros, pp. 14–15. José Luciano Franco,
“Esquema histórico sobre la trata negrera y la esclavitud,” La esclavitud en Cuba
(Havana: Editorial Academia, 1986), pp. 69–114.
44. Fernando Ortiz, Los negros esclavos (Havana: Editorial de Ciencias Sociales, Insti-
tuto Cubano del Libro, 1975), p. 38.
45. Castellanos and Castellanos, Cultura afrocubana, vol. 1, pp. 42–45. See David
Eltis, “The Export of Slaves from Africa, 1821–1843,” Journal of Economic His-
tory, 37 (1977): 419; Manuel Moreno Fraginals, El ingenio: El complejo económico
social cubano del azúcar (Havana: Letras Cubanas, 1978), vol. 2, p. 9; Philip Cur-
tin, The Atlantic Slave Trade: A Census (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press,
1969), p. 247.
46. See Curtin, The Atlantic Slave Trade, p. 247; Moreno Fraginals, El ingenio, vol.
2, p. 9; Ortiz, Los negros esclavos, pp. 37–66. Also, Castellanos and Castellanos in
their book Cultura afrocubana, vol. 1, pp. 36–42, provide a different estimate
from Ortiz of eighty-seven African denominations organized by areas and cul-
tural variation within each area.
47. Castellanos and Castellanos, Cultura afrocubana, vol. 2, p. 43.
49. Klein, The Atlantic Slave Trade, p. 11.
50. Thornton, Africa and Africans in the Making of the Atlantic World, p. 152.
51. See Jane Landers, Black Society in Spanish Florida (Urbana: University of Illinois
Press, 1999), p. 9. In Spain around 1455 in the cities of Sevilla, Cadiz, Jerez, Va-
lencia, El Puerto de Santa Maria, and Barcelona, the cabildos were the early Afri-
can religious institution. The term cofradias in Spain and Portugal and the more
frequently used cabildos in the Americas continue to have the same function—
“brotherhood-provided fraternal and critical social service”—for African com-
munities and African groupings belonging to similar nations or kingdoms and
related languages, religions, and culture.
52. Fernando Ortiz, Cuban Counterpoint: Tobacco and Sugar, trans. Harriet de Onís
(Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1995), pp. 216–222.
53. Castellanos and Castellanos, Cultura afrocubana, vol. 1, pp. 84–85.
54. Ibid.
55. Franklin Knight, Slave Society in Cuba during the Nineteenth Century (Madison:
University of Wisconsin Press, 1970), p. 40.
56. Ortiz, Los esclavos negros, p. 38.
58. Ibid., pp. 86–87.
59. Gabino La Rosa Corzo, “Los palenques en Cuba: Elementos para su reconstruc-
ción histórica,” La esclavitud en Cuba (Havana: Editorial Academia, 1986), p. 99.
60. Lydia Cabrera, Reglas de Congo: Palo Monte Mayombe (Miami: Peninsular, 1979),
p. 15.
N o t e s t o Pa g e s 2 5 – 3 1 197
61. Eugenio Matibag, Afro-Cuban Religious Experience: Cultural Reflections in Nar-

rative (Tampa: University Press of Florida, 1996), pp. 22–23.
62. Fernando Ortiz, Los cabildos y la fiesta afrocubanos del Día de Reyes (Havana: Edi-
torial de Ciencias Sociales, 1992), p. 1.
63. Ibid., p. 9. Evidence dating back to between 1455 and 1472 records the existence
of African cofradias in major cities like Sevilla, Cadiz, Jerez, Valencia, and Bar-
celona.
64. Several scholars have noted the existence of cabildos in colonial Cuba. The histo-
rian Levi Marrero in his book Cuba: Economía y sociedad (Rio Piedras, PR: Edi-
torial San Juan, 1972) presents a document from 1566 in which Maria Bergaza
requests a permit from the Spanish authorities to create a Kongo cabildo in the
neighborhood of Santo Tomas near the King Kongo shantytown. Similarly, Na-
talia Bolívar Aróstegui and Carmen González Díaz de Villegas, in their book Ta
makunda yaya y las reglas de Palo Monte (Havana: Ediciones Unión, 1998), in-
troduce a large amount of data on cabildos and cofradias founded in Cuba during
the colonial era. By way of example, they list the “principal Cabildos in the city
of Matanzas” as El Ganga Quiri (1816–1889), La Purisica Concepcion (1816–
1889), El de San Fracisco (1816–1890), and El de la Virgen de Regla (1850–
1890). See Marrero, Cuba: Economía y sociedad, p. 34.
65. Cabrera, Reglas de Congo: Palo Monte Mayombe, p. 61.
66. See Pedro Deschamps Chapeaux and Juan Perez de la Riva, Contribución a la his-
toria de la gente sin historia (Barcelona: Editorial Ariel, 1976), pp. 7–14.
67. Marrero, Cuba: Economía y sociedad, p. 34.
chapter 3: the process of meaning making:

the Kongo Universe
1. See S. Hawking, A Brief History of Time: From the Big Bang to Black Holes (To-
ronto: Bantam Books, 1988).
2. Wyatt MacGaffey, Religion and Society in Central Africa: The Bakongo of Lower
Zaire (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1986), p. 5. “Cosmogony is a body
of collective representations of the world as a whole, ordered in space and time,
and of man’s place in it.”
3. Myth, as Lévi-Strauss establishes in his text Structural Anthropology (Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1974), serves to reorder reality. It is a vehicle that al-
lows us to demonstrate what belongs to collective memory, history, and culture.
The myth has a historic character that is self-generated from the whole society,
culture, and people. Individual consciences function to contain, in oral form, the
mythological narratives while also serving as transmitters and catalysts for the val-
ues expressed through the myth.
4. K. K. Bunseki Fu-Kiau, “Symbols and Ancient Kongo Pictography” (lecture,
Rhode Island School of Design, January 23, 2003).
5. See K. K. Bunseki Fu-Kiau, Self-Healing Power and Therapy: Old Teachings from
Africa (New York: Vantage, 1991), p. 114.
6. K. K. Bunseki Fu-Kiau, The African Book without Title (Cambridge, MA: n.p.,
1980), p. 2.
7. Ibid., p. 114.
8. Ibid., p. 2.
9. MacGaffey, Religion and Society in Central Africa, p. 43.
10. Ibid. See Fu-Kiau, The African Book without Title, p. 3. This body of water is also
referred to simply as “water” or with other ordinary terms for pools, rivers, etc.
11. MacGaffey, Religion and Society in Central Africa, p. 7.
12. Ibid., p. 6.
13. Ibid., p. 43.
198 N o t e s t o Pa g e s 3 1 – 3 4
14. “Si no hay Muertos, no hay nada.” Interview with Osvaldo Fresneda Bachiller, fall
1989.
15. Fu-Kiau, Self-Healing Power and Therapy, p. 111.
16. Ibid., p. 22.
17. Ibid., p. 119.
18. See Marie-Louise Bastin, Art decoratif Tshokwe (Lisbon: Companhia de Diaman-
tes de Angola, 1961), p. 36. Karl Laman, The Kongo, vol. 3 (Stockholm: Victor
Pettersons, 1953), pp. 53–62.
19. Giovanni Antonio da Montecuccolo Cavazzi, Descrição histórica dos três reinos do
Congo, Matamba e Angola, trans. and ed. Graciano Maria de Leguzzano (Lisbon:
Junta de Investigações do Ultramar, 1965), p. 196.
20. See Olfert Dapper, Description de l’Afrique, contenant les noms, situations et con-
firns de toutes les parties (Amsterdam: n.p., 1685).
21. Interview with Ntinu Nzaku Nevunda, Mbanza Kongo, Angola, 2002.
22. Ibid. See Efraim Andersson, Messianic Popular Movements in the Lower Congo
(Uppsala: Almqvist & Wiksells Boktryckeri AB, 1958), p. 13. “Nzambi is also the
source of law and the guardian of justice among human beings.”
23. Laman, The Kongo, vol. 3, p. 60.
24. Fu-Kiau, Makuku Matatu (personal manuscript, 1986), p. 102.
25. Personal conversation with Sabula Francisco Davis, summer 2003.
26. Fu-Kiau, Makuku Matatu, p. 105.
27. Personal conversation with K. K. Bunseki Fu-Kiau, winter 2002.
28. Fu-Kiau, Makuku Matatu, p. 102.
29. Yisîmbi researched by K. K. Bunseki Fu-Kiau and published in his manuscript
“Makuku Matatu,” p. 104.
30. Yisîmbi researched by the author from 2002 to 2005 in the Mbanza Kongo–Kin-
shasa area, Angola, and the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Illustrating both
the range of bisîmbi and the protective role they play is the following mambo, as
told by Bunseki Fu-Kiau:
Sîmbi The Sîmbi

Kanda bisîmbanga Are the guardians of the community
Kad’i Since they are
Sîmbi bia Kânda Sîmbi of the community
Sîmbi The Sîmbi
Nsi bisîmbanga Are the guardians of the country
Sîmbi bia nsi Sîmbi of the country
Sîmbi The Sîmbi
Mbându bivalakananga Touch the generations
Sîmbi bia mbându Sîmbi of the generations
Sîmbi The Sîmbi
Kanda bisûnganga Appoint the Sîmbi (leaders)
Sîmbi bia Sîmbi Sîmbi of the Sîmbi
Wabundumuna sîmbi If you kill a Sîmbi
Ukibundumini You destroy yourself
Bundumini nsi You destroy the country
Bundumini kânda You destroy the community
Sîmbi a Sîmbi Sîmbi of the Sîmbi
N o t e s t o Pa g e s 3 4 – 3 7 199
31. Laman, The Kongo, vol. 3, pp. 33–42. See Chapter 4 for detailed discussion of
meanings and uses of nkisi.
32. Fu-Kiau, “Symbols and Ancient Kongo Pictography.”
33. “Lovo” is spelled “Luvo” in some sources.
34. Robert Farris Thompson, The Four Moments of the Sun (Washington DC: Na-
tional Gallery of Art, 1981), p. 30. See Robert L. Wannyn, L’art ancient du métal
au Bas-Congo (Champles par Wavre, Belgium: Editions Du Vieux Planquesaule,
1961), p. 64.
35. Thompson, The Four Moments of the Sun, p. 64. “The signs which decorate the
heart and chest of the figures communicate the faith of community that, through
good works, this great leader, like Sîmbi, has earned the power and shall rise again.”
36. Laman, The Kongo, vol. 3, p. 33.
37. Ibid., p. 36.
38. Vunda, or resting place, is a metaphor in Kongo religious tradition for death.
More accurately, it is a state of existence beyond living, a period of completion
where the mind and soul can rest before they return to the world of the living.
This state is expressed by Bunseki Fu-Kiau when he says, “You don’t die, you go
on vacation.”
39. Laman writes extensively of Nzambi a Mpungu and stories of the creation of
the fi rst human. However, he found little consensus among those with whom he
spoke and conceded that “the fi rst man is the object of much speculation” (The
Kongo, vol. 3, p. 60). Laman does not note the version of the myth telling of
Muhungu; rather, he cites numerous other variations on the name and events giv-
ing rise to the human race.
40. K. K. Bunseki Fu-Kiau, Cosmogonie Congo (Kinshasa: ONR A, 1969), p. 113.
41. Ibid., p. 111. Muhungu comes from the verb wunga (hunga), which means “to
blow” or “to whistle like the storm.”
42. Interview with Alvaro Barbosa, Mbanza Kongo, Angola, 2006.
43. K. K. Bunseki Fu-Kiau, Kongo Religious Philosophy (New York: Franklin H. Wil-
liams Caribbean Cultural Center/African Diaspora Institute, 1991), p. 113.
These societies are known as Kimpasi in the Madimba region, Ndembo in the
Ngungu region, Kikimba in Mayombe, and Lemba in the Manianga region.
44. Ibid., pp. 113–114. The following proverb, as narrated by Bunseki Fu-Kiau, tells
a story of the creation and splitting of this fi rst human. The proverb also explains
why Muhungu was made and divided: to complement existing fruits of the earth,
and to multiply and provide food for God.
Dieu prépara luku God prepared Luku to eat
Cela ne suffit point But it was not enough
Il laissa sa boule de futu He left his ball of futu
Il s’en alla chercher And went to search for
La viande qui convint Meat that would complement it
Et appétissante And be appetizing
Il créa l’homme mais, un seul He created a human, but only one
Il serait une graine de riz semée This would be a grain of rice to sow
Il a voulu dans sa divinité que He wanted, in his divinity, for
L’homme, sa viande se multiplie The humans, his meat would multiply
A la grandeur du futu . . . To match the greatness of the futu . . .
Although the proverb’s explanation of why Muhungu was divided differs some-
what from the reasoning presented previously, both versions emphasize that
though a perfect being in itself, the fi rst human was in fact missing something
when alone in the world. This concept, of going from the perfect to the imperfect
in order to embark on a journey, a process, to become whole is central to Bakongo
cosmogony and moral philosophy.
200 N o t e s t o Pa g e s 3 7 – 4 3
45. Joseph van Wing, Études Bakongo: Religione et magie (Brussels: G. van Campen-
hout, 1938), pp. 8–11. See Laman, The Kongo, vol. 3, p. 15.
46. Personal conversation with Osvaldo Fresneda Bachiller, fall 1988. “Todo nace del
agua.”
47. Ibid.
48. Ibid.
pp. 128, 164.
50. Interview with Osvaldo Fresneda Bachiller, winter 1989.
51. Interview with Felipe Garcia Villamil, summer 2002.
52. Ibid. Fu-Kiau, Makutu Matatu, p. 103. Kimbisa or Sîmbisa (v): Déposer en gage,
garantir. Faire toucher.
53. This type of ancestor is one that had the ability to speak and whose spirit could be
used for power and energy inside prendas or minkisi (personal communication,
Osvaldo Fresneda Bachiller).
54. It is common in Kikongo to repeat a word for emphatic purposes.
55. Prendas are religious objects believed to be inhabited by multiple spiritual forces.
They are attributed anthropomorphic characteristics such as birth and death.
56. These names correspond with actual cultural groups in Central Africa that were
related to the Kongo kingdom.
57. See António da Silva Maia, Dicionário complementar Português-Kimbundu-
Kikongo (Luanda: Cooperação Portuguesa, 1961), p. 22. “Nlangu or Langu is
the word used in the Palo Monte religion for the noun water; nlangu is also a syn-
onym for Maza, which means water in the Kikongo language.” (Personal commu-
nication, Osvaldo Fresneda Bachiller.)
58. Osvaldo Fresneda Bachiller and Felipe Garcia Villamil, 2002.
59. Felipe Garcia Villamil, personal documents, 2000. Complicated system of com-
munication with a house of Palo Monte between the ritual participants, the Tata
Nganga (priest), the nkisi (the recipient of the power), and the mayordomo (who
fulfi lls organizational functions in the ceremony).
60. Interview with Osvaldo Fresneda Bachiller, personal documents, 1995.
61. Eladio Garcia, a priest of the Palo Monte religion, interview, summer 1997.
62. Chamalongos: Seven objects with circular or semicircular form in the ancient ver-
sion. In contemporary practice, four parts of a fruit or coconut shell are used.
63. Osvaldo Fresneda Bachiller, a priest and authority in the Palo Monte religion,
interview, summer 1995.
64. Ibid.
65. Conversation with Osvaldo Fresneda Bachiller, summer 1987. Sarabanda should
be in Kikongo Salabanda, which means “royal cloth”—or, more grammatically,
Sala a banda, which means “to mark” or “to leave a job.” Conversation with
Matondo Blaise Ngo and Francisco Ntanda, Mbanza Kongo, summer 1999.
66. Karl Laman, The Kongo, vol. 1, p. 24.
67. Ibid.
68. Ibid., p. 27.
69. W. Holman Bentley, Dictionary and Grammar of the Kongo Language (London:
Trubner, 1887), p. 342.
70. Personal communication with Osvaldo Fresneda Bachiller, fall 1997.
71. See Lydia Cabrera, Vocabulario Congo: El Bantu que se habla en Cuba (Miami:
Chicherekú, 1984), pp. 40, 41. Song (or prayer): “No hay palo como tu, Palo, ah
palo! Tu llega ribá loma Gruabba. Cuál Nganga má pué que yo? Tu cogé tu gua-
rina, tu van sube palo la loma.” Palo also calls to the spirit, and it is understood
that one resides in each tree.
72. Robert Farris Thompson, personal conversation, winter 1999.
73. Mayordomo refers to the position within the house or town that has the function
of directing religious events and the obligation to carefully maintain the perfor-
N o t e s t o Pa g e s 4 3 – 4 8 201
mance of all rituals. In addition, he is the one who helps the pledge and guides
the spirit when it appears. From Felipe Garcia Villamil and Osvaldo Garcia Villa-
mil, personal documents, summer 1999.
74. Consecrated or initiated into the secrets of the religion.
75. See Robert Farris Thompson, Flash of the Spirit: Afro-American Art and Philoso-
phy (New York: Vintage, 1984), pp. 121, 122.
76. Personal documents, summer 1999 in New York, from Felipe Garcia Villamil and
Osvaldo Garcia Villamil. Batalla Kongo is an nkisi to use against witchcraft.
77. Diamlunqueto as Baconfula (the doctor in the Palo Monte religion) has the func-
tion of making medicine using the nkisi. Also, he introduces the godsons to disci-
pline and religious secrets. He writes and teaches chants and myths by use of the
writing system (fi rmas).
78. Malangume as Manzanero (the singer of the temple) has the function of singing
the ritual chants and giving food and drink during the performance of the ritual.
Additionally, only he can perform animal sacrifice.
79. Tangume as Guardiero (guardian of the temple).
80. Osvaldo Fresneda Bachiller, summer 1988. Human spirit (ancestor) at the service
of Tata Nganga through a secret pact.
81. This town was represented during the period of the Vili’s transition from the
trading of ivory to that of slaves. At this time, the Bakongo were experiencing a
period of anarchy that ended with their migrations toward the Niari Valley. This
period was marked by both the height of the power of the royal family of Lwangu
(Loango) and the entrance of the French in the regional slave trade. Finally,
Lwangu is represented as a commercial center one year before the complete con-
solidation of Portuguese power in Angola and the creation of a new urban center
in Luanda. Also, see Annie Merlet, Autour du Loango, XIVe–XIXe siècle: Histoire
des peuples du sud-ouest du Gabon au temps du Royaume de Loango et du “Congo
français” (Libreville: Centre Culturel Français Saint-Exupéry-Sépia, 1991), pp.
140, 142.
82. Osvaldo Fresneda Bachiller, 1995.
83. Felipe Garcia Villamil, June 27, 2000.
chapter 4: afro-atlantic graphic Writing:

bidimbu, bisinsu, and firmas
1. For example: Fry W. Warburton’s eighteenth-century writing on Egyptian hiero-
glyphics, K. F. Campbell’s and J. K. MacGregor’s writings on Nsibidi in Cam-
eroon, M. Griaule’s work on Ethiopian and Dogon writings, J. Fédry’s work in
Chat country, B. Mark Lynch’s work in Kenya among the Massai, Pokot, and
Samburu, and Eduardo Dos Santos’s writing on Angola.
2. Other authors writing broadly on African writing traditions tended toward inven-
tory efforts, catalogs of different traditions that did little to examine any in depth;
see Joseph H. Greenberg’s The Languages of Africa (Bloomington: Indiana Uni-
versity Press, 1966); L. Lévy-Bruhl’s L’âme primitive (Paris: Presses Universitaire
de France, 1963); Cheikh A. Diop’s L’unité culturalle de L’Afrique Noire (Paris:
Présence Africaine, 1959); David Dalby’s L’Afrique et la Lettre (Lagos: Centre
Culturel Français, 1986). Also common was a focus on the history of such tradi-
tions, as seen in Théophile Obenga and Simon Battestini.
3. Gerhard Kubik, “African Graphic Systems,” Muntu, January (no. 4–5), 1986,
p. 73.
4. W.J.T. Mitchell, Iconology: Image, Text, Ideology (Chicago: University of Chicago
Press, 1986), pp. 22, 25–27.
5. Ibid.
6. See Clémentine Faïk-Nzuji, Arts africains: Signes et symboles (Brussels: DeBoeck
Université, 2000), pp. 53–63. Introduces the notions of the graphic expression
202 N o t e s t o Pa g e s 4 9 – 7 0
tradition among the group in the region of Kasai, Sankuru, Bandundu, and Cab-
inda in the Democratic Republic of the Congo and Angola.
7. See Robert Farris Thompson, The Four Moments of the Sun (Washington, DC:
National Gallery of Art, 1981), pp. 42–52.
8. Ibid., pp. 45–46.
9. K. K. Bunseki Fu-Kiau, “Ntangu-Tangu-Kolo: The Bantu-Kongo Concept of
Time,” in Joseph K. Adjaye, ed., Time in the Black Experience (Westport, CT:
Greenwood Press, 1994), p. 244.
10. Marcel Griaule and G. Dieterlen, Le renard pâle (Paris: Institut D’Ethnologie,
1965).
11. Interview with Robert Farris Thompson, fall 2000.
12. See examples on Kinshasa, Matadi, Soyo, and Mbanza Kongo areas.
13. Ana Maria de Oliveira, Elementos simbólicos do kimbanguismo (Amadora, Portu-
gal: Missao de Cooperação Francesa, 1994), p. 28. See Efraim Andersson, Mes-
sianic Popular Movements in the Lower Congo (Uppsala: Almqvist & Wiksells
Boktryckeri AB, 1958), p. 31.
14. Paul Raymaekers and Hendrik van Moorsel, “Lovo: Dessins rupestres du Bas-
Congo,” Ngonge, Carnets de sciences humaines, nos. 12, 13, and 14 (Léopoldville,
1962), pp. 12–14.
15. Carlos Ervedosa, Arqueologia de Angolana (Lisbon: Edições 70, 1980), p. 265.
16. Ibid.
17. Timing, accessibility, and technical constraints in the initial site visits resulted in
the visual analysis being conducted only at the motif level, but this approach was
complemented by cataloging of local verbal histories and documentation of con-
temporary related practices. Multiple techniques were used to explore the varia-
tion in motif types and meanings through the region. Similarities and differences
within and between were observed and compared against current models of cul-
tural use, transformation, and interpretation. This work is the fi rst broad-scale
analysis and cultural study of rock art using multivariate information and refer-
ences from both primary sources provided by interaction with local cultures and
informed academic methods, including material cultural analysis and a range of
linguistic, philosophical, artistic, and religious approaches.
18. Personal conversations with Alvaro Barbosa, summer 2005.
19. Personal conversation with Eduardo Olmes, summer 2005.
20. See John M. Janzen, Lemba, 1650–1930: A Drum of Affliction in Africa and the
New World (New York: Garland, 1982), pp. 3, 36, 253, 278, 315.
21. K. K. Bunseki Fu-Kiau, Self-Healing Power and Therapy: Old Teachings from
22. Thompson, The Four Moments of the Sun, p. 28.
23. John Thornton, The Kongolese Saint Anthony: Dona Beatriz Kimpa Vita and the
Antonian Movements, 1684–1706 (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press,
1998), p. 102.
24. Personal conversation with K. K. Bunseki Fu-Kiau, winter 2002. Mûntu is the
plural form of “human” in Kikongo. Mûntu also signifies part of the process of
communication and indicates a journey for each person through family and life.
25. Faïk-Nzuji, Arts africains, p. 32. See K. K. Bunseki Fu-Kiau, Kongo Religious
Philosophy (New York: Franklin H. Williams Caribbean Cultural Center/African
Diaspora Institute, 1991), p. 85.
26. Fu-Kiau, Kongo Religious Philosophy, p. 85.
27. Interview with Ntinu Nzaku Nevunda, spring 2003.
28. Fu-Kiau, Self-Healing Power and Therapy, pp. 9–10.
29. Fu-Kiau, Kongo Religious Philosophy, p. 185. “Nzila ntângu yikôndolo nsuka
kizungidila yenza; zîngu kia mûntu i ntângu yankala kinzungidila ye yâu.”
1980), p. 9.
N o t e s t o Pa g e s 7 0 – 8 8 203
31. Ibid.
32. Ibid.
33. Robert Farris Thompson, Faces of the Gods (Munich: Prestel, 1993), p. 49.
34. Ibid.
35. Ibid.
36. Fu-Kiau, The African Book without Title, p. 1. “Luzingu lwa mûntu I zingu kia
mu mbingi kiazungwa kwa ngolo ye minika mia mpila mu mpila miyalanga kio.”
37. Fu-Kiau, Self-Healing Power and Therapy, p. 17. See W. Holman Bentley, “Appen-
dix” to the Dictionary and Grammar of the Kongo Language (London: Trubner,
1887), pp. 946, 990. Mu: in or into. Kula: to drive away. Kûla: to redeem.
38. Interview with Felipe Garcia Villamil, summer 2000.
40. Interview with Mayifwila Rafael Rivals, spring 2003.
41. Interview with Osvaldo Fresneda Bachiller, summer 1997.
42. See Karl Laman, The Kongo, vol. 3 (Stockholm: Victor Pettersons, 1953), pp. 67,
74. “Usually a Nkuyu must be captured and incorporated into the nkisi, as the
nkuyu’s power, in combination with the medicine and the magic practiced by the
nganga, . . . makes the nkisi effective. The bankulu are found in the burial ground,
especially by the grave of a powerful chief or a great nganga. All sorts of tricks are
resorted to in order to soften the heart of the Nkuyu and entice it, such as putting
out appetizing food and palm-wine so that a piece of raffia cloth may be thrown
over the Nkuyu. Thus caught, it can be incorporated into the image or the nkisi.”
p. 149. “Un muñeco de palo, de unos sesenta centímetros, en el que el brujo hace
entrar el espíritu.”
44. The understanding of nkuyu in Cuban popular culture as a sign of protection, a
guardian, comes from the conceptual association with the deity Eleguá or Elegba
in Yoruba religious practice in Cuba. See Argeliers León, “De paleros y fi rmas
se trata,” Revista Unión, 1 (Havana: UNEAC, 1986), p. 86. Cabrera, Reglas de
Congo, p. 223. “Nkuyo, le llaman algunos Mayomberos a un espiritu equivalente,
con funciones de Eleguá.”
45. See Cabrera, Reglas de Congo, p. 146. “El circulo significa seguridad. En el centro
del circulo, la cruz que es la fuerza; la fuerza de todas las fuerzas espirituales que
trabaja la Nganga.”
Zaire (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1986), p. 46.
47. Personal conversation with Felipe Garcia Villamil, winter 2002.
48. Thompson, Faces of the Gods, pp. 285–286.
49. MacGaffey, Religion and Society in Central Africa, p. 46. MacGaffey also de-
scribes three points instead of the traditional four, as nsulu (ku zulu), sky, up-
ward; kumagongo or ensiafua, in the deep of the earth, or land of the dead; ntoto,
the earth (the position corresponding to 6:00 P.M.)
50. Cabrera, Reglas de Congo, p. 147. See Jorge Castellanos and Isabel Castellanos,
Cultura afrocubana, vol. 3 (Miami: Ediciones Universal, 1988), p. 426.
51. K. K. Bunseki Fu-Kiau, “Symbols and Ancient Kongo Pictography” (lecture,
Rhode Island School of Design, January 23, 2003).
52. Clémentine M. Faïk-Nzuji, Tracing Memory (Quebec: Canadian Museum of Civi-
lization, 1996), p. 112.
53. Ibid.
54. Robert Farris Thompson, Le geste Kôngo (Paris: Musée Dapper, 2002), pp. 32–33.
55. Faïk-Nzuji, Arts africains, p. 61. Faïk-Nzuji translates dimbu and sinsú in a manner
opposite to Matuku’s as well as contrary to broader research fi ndings in the region.
56. Interview with Matuku N. Ngame, fall 2003. Matuku Ngame, Yale University,
focuses on applied linguistics, language teaching methodology, cross-cultural
evaluation of speech perception and its impact on language learning, and Af-
204 N o t e s t o Pa g e s 8 8 – 1 0 7
rican women writers. Matuku recalled from his childhood how his mother ex-
plained the distinction between the words dimbu and sinsú. “I still think that
both words mean ‘sign.’ Sinsú, to me, is a physical representation of something,
such as carved signs etc. Dimbu is a sign but more like a manifestation, spiritual,
natural. Although dimbu can also mean a line of demarcation, symbol, some way
of recognizing something. Although these two words are different, they share a
certain range of semantic representations.”
57. Faïk-Nzuji, Arts africains, p. 176.
58. José Martins Vaz, Filosofia tradicional dos Cabindas, vol. 1 (Lisbon: Agência-Geral
do Ultramar, 1966), pp. 112–113.
59. Joaquim Martins, Sabeduria Cabinda: Símbolos e provérvios (Lisbon: Junta de
Investigações do Ultramar, 1968), p. 396.
60. Ibid., pp. 479, 482.
61. Faïk-Nzuji, Arts africains, p. 61. The root of the word sinsú means “to test,” “to
experiment,” and “to commemorate.”
62. Interview with Matuku Ngame, fall 2003. Interview with Ntinu Nzaku Nevunda,
summer 2002.
64. See Thornton, The Kongolese Saint Anthony, pp. 10–12.
66. Interview with Mayifwila Rafael Rivals, summer 2002.
67. Bentley, Appendix to Dictionary and Grammar of the Kongo Language, p. 885.
68. K. K. Bunseki Fu-Kiau, Mbôngi: An African Traditional Political Institution (Rox-
bury, MA: Omenana, 1985), p. 29.
69. In addition, frequent depictions of a bow and arrow are part of the symbolic art-
work of the Yoruba religious tradition known as Regla de Ocha in Cuba. Robert
Farris Thompson in his book Flash of the Spirit: Afro-American Art and Philoso-
phy (New York: Vintage, 1984) acknowledges the use of the bow and arrow sym-
bol in Ocha belief to represent Yoruba hunters and symbolize the Orisha (deity)
Ochoosi. Thompson writes: “The brother of Ogún, Ochoosi, himself quick and
strong, ultimately emerged as the deity of the hunters, the fabled archer of the
gods. . . . [T]he power of this deity is manifest of mind in the speed and accuracy
of his arrow, in prideful assertion of mind and muscle that have been wonderfully
honed by the disciplines of forest hunting.” In Cuba, Ochoosi is commonly rep-
resented by three-dimensional objects topped by metal bows and arrows.
70. Lewis Williams and J. D. Dawson, Images of Power (Johannesburg: Southern
Book Publisher, 1989), p. 102.
71. Interview with Joan Paulino Polar, summer 2002.
72. As told by Alvaro Barbosa, a priest and the traditional chief of Zaire Province.
The province comprises various municipalities, each of which has a traditional
chief. Barbosa is the chief of these chiefs, the chief of an institution known as the
“traditional nucleus.” His position of power is second only to the traditional reli-
gious and cultural advisor to the king.
73. The term Mpeve ya Nlongo, in addition to referring to a religion, is among the
terms used in Mbanza Kongo for God.
74. Interview with Mayifwila Rafael Rivals, summer 2002.
75. Ibid.
76. Ibid.
77. Also known as the Botanical House of the Holy Spirit, this is a form of traditional
religion. However, government restrictions have prohibited traditional churches
labeled African, Kongo, or non-Christian and treat priests in this group as pro-
viders of traditional medicines rather than religious figures.
78. Interview with Francisco Lusolo, summer 2002.
79. Ibid.
N o t e s t o Pa g e s 1 0 7 – 1 2 1 205
80. Interview with Bundu dia Kongo (BDK) members, summer 2002.
81. Interview with Alfonso Seke, Mbanza Kongo, summer 2002.
82. Personal conversation with Bundu dia Kongo members, summer 2002.
83. Interviews with Ne Lusimana Thola, summer 2002.
84. Ibid.
85. Personal conversation with Bundu dia Kongo members, summer 2002. Anita
Jacobson-Widding has also written on the powerful color associations among the
Bakongo. See Anita Jacobson-Widding, Red-White-Black as a Mode of Thought
(Stock holm: Almqvist & Wiksell International, 1979), pp. 74, 143–144, 154–
156, 157–219. Jacobson-Widding draws heavily upon K. K. Bunseki Fu-Kiau’s
Cosmogonie Congo (Kinshasa: ONRD, 1969), p. 130.
87. Fu-Kiau, Self-Healing Power and Therapy, pp. 18–19.
88. Ibid., p. 19.
89. Ibid., pp. 30–32.
90. Fu-Kiau, Mbôngi, pp. 1–2. “In the central-west Africa culture, the term Mbôngi
and concept it expressed are derived from the verb root ‘Bônga.’ The latter signifies
‘to take, to seize, to accept, to make one’s possession, to own.’ . . . Mbôngi-pub-
lic-council-house: institution of debates and conceptualization, the community
parliament; the popular court of justice among African people, origin, fi replace.”
91. Ibid., p. 30.
92. Ibid.
93. The Angolan Ministry of Culture organizes annual events designed to celebrate
Angola’s cultural heritage and provide entertainment. In Mbanza Kongo, mem-
bers of the traditional government view these as opportunities to celebrate impor-
tant moments in their own cultural tradition. One example is a ceremony used to
cleanse and elevate the body of the dead king and educate his successor to take
the throne.
94. Mayombe is a term used in Angola to refer to the place inhabited by the Yombe
people, a cultural group that speaks the Fiote language, a variation of Kikongo.
In Cuba, the term Mayombe refers to a historical place that is recognized across
all Kongo practice as a forest, “the Mayombe forest,” believed to be the place
of origin of one of the four Kongo branches. Ma is a prefi x used to indicate a
third person plural, making Ma-Yombe also the plural form of Yombe, albeit a
form infrequently used. See Hazel Carter and João Makoondekwa, Kongo Course:
Malongi Makikoongo Dialect of Zoombo, Angola (London: SOAS, 1970), p. 164;
and Pierre Swartenbroeckx, Dictionnaire Kikongo- et Kituba-Français (Ban-
dunda, DNC: Centre d’Études Ethnologiques, 1973), p. 287.
95. My understandings of the meanings and functions of fi rmas have been shaped by
my work with Osvaldo Fresneda Bachiller since the late 1980s, and with Felipe
Garcia Villamil since the late 1990s.
96. See Karl Laman, Dictionnaire Kikongo-Français (Brussels: Gregg Press, 1936), p.
149. Fimba means “to examine, to process, to learn and know, to experience, and
to stick together.”
97. Felipe Garcia Villamil, personal conversation, June 2002. Robert Farris Thomp-
son, personal conversation, January 2002. “The signal and the essence of God are
walking down on the earth.” See Bárbaro Martínez-Ruiz, “Mambo Comes from
the Soul,” in Sarah Adams, Bárbaro Martínez-Ruiz, and Lyneise Williams, eds.,
Call and Response: Journeys in African Art (New Haven, CT: Yale University Art
Gallery, 2000), p. 95.
98. Bentley, Dictionary and Grammar of the Kongo Language, p. 875. Mpúngu: the
all, the Almighty. In the language of the Palo Monte religion in Cuba, mpúngu
means energy and force. See Laman, Dictionnaire Kikongo-Français, p. 589.
Force or energy of an ancestral spirit that is employed for defense in wartime.
206 N o t e s t o Pa g e s 1 2 1 – 1 5 0
99. See Bárbaro Martínez-Ruiz, “Speaking in Action: Processes of Visual Representa-

tion in the Bankongo World,” Odantalan 02 (Lisbon: PangeiArt, 2002), p. 101.
100. Cabrera, Reglas de Congo, pp. 15–17.
101. León, “De paleros y fi rmas de trata,” p. 79. “The denomination of fi rma, adopted
earlier maybe by Abakua groups, undoubtedly as literary metaphor, possibly
comes from the custom, beginning with the mercantile development of the nine-
teenth century, of printing the company/signature and rubric of the product on
the label, envelope, and seals of a product.”
102. León, “De paleros y fi rmas de trata,” p. 70.
103. Ibid., pp. 72–73.
104. Ibid. “Por ello la decodificacion de este sistema signico responde a una pragmat-
ica semiotica que se hace oscilante, personal, conventional, y hasta idiosincrasica,
constreñida y delimitada.”
105. Robert Farris Thompson, “Dancing between Two Worlds: Kongo-Angola Cul-
ture and the Americas” (lecture, Yale University, fall 2000).
106. Personal conversation with Robert Farris Thompson, winter 2001.
107. John Stevens, Sacred Calligraphy of the East (Boston: Shambhala, 1988), p. 77.
108. Authors who have examined the way syncretization was used as a mode of resis-
tance include Ortiz, Bronislaw Malinowski, Michel Foucault, Jean-Paul Sartre,
Homi Bhabha, Edward Said, and James Clifford.
109. Ngueye or Ngweyo in Cuba means “initiated in the religion” and in the Kikongo
language means “you.” Notes provided by Matondo Ngo Bleas from trips to
Mbanza Kongo in 2002 and 2003. See Carter and Makoondekwa, Kongo Course,
p. 116. Ngéye is a second-person singular pronoun, “you.”
110. Cabrera, Reglas de Congo, p. 141. See León, “De paleros y fi rmas de trata,” pp.
71–73.
111. Cabrera, Reglas de Congo, p. 146.
112. Ibid., pp. 145–146.
113. Felipe Garcia Villamil, private documents, personal records, New York City, 2000.
114. Ibid.
115. See Bentley, “Appendix” to the Dictionary and Grammar of the Kongo Language,
p. 816.
116. Ibid.
117. Ibid., p. 835.
118. Fu-Kiau, Mbôngi, p. 4.
119. A similarly important role and perceived ability to channel and release spiritual
energy are seen among Eastern calligraphers, where the religious significance of
calligraphy evolved. It developed as an art form in Japan, India, and Tibet. See
Stevens, Sacred Calligraphy of the East.
120. See León, “De paleros y fi rmas de trata,” pp. 70–71.
121. Shaaron Ainsworth and Andrea Th Loizou, “The Effects of Self-Explaining When
Learning with Text or Diagrams,” Cognitive Science, 27, no. 4 (2003), p. 670.
122. Ibid., p. 669.
123. Ibid., p. 670.
124. Ibid.
125. See Georges Balandier, Daily Life in the Kingdom of the Kongo (New York: Pan-
theon, 1968), p. 224. Ndoki (pl): bandoki, sorcerers.
chapter 5: beyond the Scripture: physical forms

of graphic Writing
1. K. K. Bunseki Fu-Kiau, Self-Healing Power and Therapy: Old Teachings from
2. Robert Farris Thompson, Dancing between Two Worlds: Kongo-Angola Culture
and the Americas (New York: Caribbean Cultural Center, 1992), p. 1.
N o t e s t o Pa g e s 1 5 0 – 1 6 1 207
3. Efraim Andersson, Messianic Popular Movements in the Lower Congo (Uppsala:

Almqvist & Wiksells Boktryckeri AB, 1958), p. 20.
4. Karl Laman, The Kongo, vol. 3 (Stockholm: Victor Pettersons, 1953), p. 68.
5. Ibid.
6. Ibid.
7. Robert Farris Thompson, Flash of the Spirit: Afro-American Art and Philosophy
(New York: Vintage, 1984), p. 121.
8. Lydia Cabrera, El monte: Igbo fina ewe orisha, vititinfinda (Havana: Ediciones
C.R., 1954), p. 131. See Roy Sieber, African Art: Permutation of Power (Gaines-
ville, FL: StorterChilds, 1997), p. 4. Accumulation of human, animal, and other
elements incorporates and symbolizes the collective energy of all association
members and the universe.
9. Robert Farris Thompson, personal conversation, summer 2000.
10. Laman, Kongo, vol. 3, p. 86.
12. Ibid., p. 113.
13. Ibid., pp. 112–113.
Zaire (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1986), p. 139.
15. Andersson, Messianic Popular Movements in the Lower Congo, pp. 170–171.
16. MacGaffey, Religion and Society in Central Africa, pp. 236-241.
17. K. K. Bunseki Fu-Kiau, Makuku Matatu (personal manuscript, 1983), p. 103.
18. This kind of nkisi has been described by Laman as used for healing purposes
(Figure 101). This nkisi is later referred to by Wyatt MacGaffey as Nkisi Mayiza.
Robert Farris Thompson introduces a similar nkisi under the name of Nkisi Suku
Mbuki and documents recent usage in religious practices in Kinshasa in the 1970s
(Figure 100) and the 1980s (see Figures 102 and 103).
19. Karl Laman, Dictionnaire Kikongo-Français (Brussels: Gregg Press, 1936), p. 573.
Mpàka: horn.
20. Personal documents, summer 1999 in New York, from Felipe Garcia Villamil and
Valeria Garcia.
21. Giovanni Antonio Cavazzi da Montecuccolo, Descrição histórica dos três reinos do
Congo, Matamba e Angola, trans. and ed. Graciano Maria de Leguzzano (Lisbon:
Junta de Investigações do Ultramar, 1965), p. 198.
1980), pp. 6–7. “Makuku Matatu, symbol of the upper world. This world has
three basic forces whose leadership is the balance between them. This upper world
is widely [known] in Kongo traditional symbolic system as ‘Makuku Matatu’ . . .
three [fi restones] which uphold the social Kongo structure motor, kinzu. The
social structural organization of the Kongo society [is] shaped and patterned by
three basic forces: (1) All growing social forces among zingunga (heroic young,
future community members) . . . ; (2) all positive capacity of present leaders and
their leadership . . . ; (3) the experience of specialist and their specialties.”
23. According to the Palo Monte religious experts in Cuba.
24. Thompson, Flash of the Spirit, p. 121.
25. Giovanni Antonio Cavazzi da Montecuccolo, Descrição histórica dos três reinos do
Congo, Matamba e Angola, p. 196.
26. Ibid., pp. 196–197.
27. Ibid., p. 197. “Ha lugares em que os components amarram epretadinho o prin-
cipe e trazem-no como que por forca perante as campas, onde ele, em vez de exal-
tar o difunto, chora e suspira, suplicando-lhe que faca cair a desejada chuva, para
ele poder ir solto e livre.”
28. Fu-Kiau, Makuku Matatu, pp. 255–256.
29. See Thompson, Flash of the Spirit, p. 124. See also La Ilustración Española y
Americana, año 19, no. 30 (August 15, 1875), p. 1.
208 N o t e s t o Pa g e s 1 6 1 – 1 7 2
30. Lydia Cabrera, Cuentos negros de Cuba (Havana: La Veronica, 1940), pp. 248–249.
31. Thompson, Flash of the Spirit, p. 124.
32. Personal interview with Felipe Garcia Villamil, December 2003. “Felipe has been
involved throughout his life with the tradition of Rompe Monte. This tradition
begins with his grandfather Francisco Villamil in the late nineteenth century and,
beginning in 1919, continued through his mother Francisca Villamil to the pres-
ent day, where it is cared for in Matanzas by Osvaldo Garcia [Villamil] and in Los
Angeles, California, by Felipe Garcia Villamil.”
33. Thompson, Dancing between Two Worlds, p. 1.
35. The title of the book can be translated as The Jungle, the Forest, or the Trees.
36. Botanica is the name given to the religious stores found in Puerto Rico and in
Latin American neighborhoods in the United States. In Cuba, where private com-
merce is prohibited, similar merchandise is sold unofficially from private homes
and herbal markets.
37. Thompson, Dancing between Two Worlds, p. 1.
38. MacGaffey, Religion and Society in Central Africa, pp. 37–38.
39. Laman, Kongo, vol. 3, pp. 75–81. See Andersson, Messianic Popular Movements in
the Lower Congo, p. 21.
40. Georges Balandier, Daily Life in the Kingdom of the Kongo (New York: Pantheon,
1968).
41. Joseph van Wing and C. Penders, Le plus ancien dictionnaire Bantu (Louvain:
J. Kuyl-Otto, 1928), p. 192. See W. Holman Bentley, Dictionary and Grammar
of the Kongo Language (London: Trubner, 1887), p. 348. “Mfumbi means high-
way robber or murderer, highwayman.”
42. Robert Farris Thompson, The Four Moments of the Sun (Washington, DC: Na-
tional Gallery of Art, 1981), p. 126.
43. Kalûnga is the horizontal, spiritual line that divides the sky from the sea, that
divides the world of the living from the world of the dead. For more information,
see Chapters 2 and 3.
45. Ibid.
46. Ibid.
47. Ibid., p. 77.
48. Robert Farris Thompson, “Communication from Afro-Atlantic” (lecture, Yale
University, September 23, 1999).
49. The term bandoki is most frequently used to refer to sorcerers who are wield-
ing power to cause problems, but it is more generically understood as something
malevolent yet not explicable. Bandoki can also be written as Zandoki or Yandoki.
Simon Bockie, in his book Death and the Invisible Powers: The World of Kongo
Belief (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1993), argues against the Western
translation of the term kindoki as “witchcraft” and notes the insufficient knowl-
edge on the cultural and linguistic specificity of the term as used in religious
practice. He points out that “BaManianga make no such distinction between
those who use psychic power and those who use medicines and spells. They have
only one term, kindoki. To translate this as ‘witchcraft,’ ‘sorcery,’ or both would
obscure the true meaning of kindoki, given the acceptance by many people of the
differentiation of the terms. Kindoki is simply the art of expressing unusual pow-
ers.” See Bockie, Death and the Invisible Powers, p. 41.
50. Robert Farris Thompson, “The Grand Detroit N’Kondi,” Bulletin of the Detroit
Institute of Arts, 56, no. 4 (1978), pp. 206–217.
51. Personal interview with Ntinu Nzaku Nevunda, Mbanza Kongo, Angola, 2002.
52. Thompson, The Four Moments of the Sun, p. 129.
53. Interview with the nganga mawuku Pedro Lopes, Luanda, Angola, summer 2007.
N o t e s t o Pa g e s 1 7 3 – 1 8 8 209
54. Ibid.
55. Langalanga is a term used by Mbanza Kongo locals to designate the local people
and families that fled the country to the Democratic Republic of the Congo dur-
ing the civil war. Most of the distinctions between local and expatriate are related
to moral conduct and social behavior clearly recorded in vernacular anecdotes
that described the tendency among refugees to fi nd modes of survival in activi-
ties such as trading goods from the Democatic Republic of the Congo and money
changing, activities that contributed to their lack of reintegration into Angolan
society.
57. Bentley, Dictionary and Grammar of the Kongo Language, p. 902.
58. Ibid., p. 900.
59. Van Wing and Pendars, Le plus ancien dictionnaire Bantu, p. 403.
60. Ibid., p. 461.
61. Interview with Osvaldo Fresneda Bachiller, 2000.
62. See Lydia Cabrera, Reglas de Congo: Palo Monte Mayombe (Miami: Peninsular,
1979), pp. 127–129.
63. Bentley, Dictionary and Grammar of the Kongo Language, p. 234. See António
da Silva Maia, Dicionário complementar Português-Kimbundu-Kikongo (Luanda:
Cooperação Portuguesa, 1961), p. 22.
65. The sacred house or room in the Palo Monte religion.
66. Expression in common use by Osvaldo Fresneda Bachiller and Felipe Garcia Vil-
lamil during the years 1988 to 2004. Havana, Cuba, and New York City and Los
Angeles, United States.
67. John Miller Chernoff, African Rhythm and African Sensibility (Chicago: Univer-
sity of Chicago Press, 1981), pp. 79–81.
68. Bentley, Dictionary and Grammar of the Kongo Language, pp. 336–337.
69. Ibid., p. 260.
70. Martin Lienhard, O mare o mato: Histórias da escravidão (Congo-Angola, Brasil,
Caribe) (Salvador da Bahia: EDUFBA/CEAO, 1998).
71. Jan Vansina, Oral Tradition as History (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press,
1985), p. xi.
72. Ibid., p. xii.
73. A Creole language used by the slave population during colonial times that com-
pressed aspects of Spanish, Kikongo, Yoruba, and other African languages.
See Lydia Cabrera, Vocabulario Congo: El Bantu que se habla en Cuba (Miami:
Chicherekú, 1984), p.12.
74. Armin Schwegler, “The Vocabulary (Ritual) Bantú de Cuba,” America Negra, 15
(1998), p. 2.
76. Ibid., p. 394.
77. Ibid., p. 362.
78. Robert Farris Thompson, “New York Mambo: Microcosm of Black Creativity”
(lecture, Yale University, fall 1999).
79. Joseph van Wing, “Bakongo Magic,” Journal of the Royal Anthropological Insti-
tute of Great Britain and Ireland, 71, no. 1/2 (1941), p. 88.
80. Religious movement attributed to Simon Kimbangu that fused Christian religion
with Kongo traditional religion around 1921 to 1924.
81. Andersson, Messianic Popular Movements, pp. 169–170.
82. Ibid., p. 170.
83. Joaquim Martins, Sabedoria Cabinda: Símbolos e provérvios (Lisbon: Junta de
Investigações do Ultramar, 1968), p. 63.
84. Felipe Garcia Villamil, personal documents, New York City, summer 1998.
210 N o t e s t o Pa g e 1 8 8
Quien fue el primer gangulero africano

Fue Tangume el rey
Cual fue la primera casuela Africana
Fue batalla Kongo
Por la bronca entre caimans surgida en presencia de Tangume.
85. Fernando Ortiz, Poesía y canto de los negros afrocubanos, comp. Norma Suárez
Suárez (Havana: Publicigraf, 1994), p. 75.
86. Mambo translated by Robert Farris Thompson, summer 2002.
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Index
Abaku, 12 Bakongo people: Christianization of, 19, 21; early

Adams, Monni, 7 European contact with, 19–21, 201n81; economy
African slaves. See Slavery of, 19–20; origin of, 15–16; religion of, 29–30
African Writing and Text (Battestini), 6 (see also Kongo cosmogony [Nza Kôngo]). See also
Afro-Cuban culture: graphic writing in, 26–27, 49, Kongo kingdom
119–123 (see also Firma[s]); identity and, 10–11; Balandier, Georges, 15–16, 17, 21, 48, 163–164, 194n
literature on, 10–11; Longo cosmogony of (see Baluande, kalûnga as, 39
Palo Monte); mambo in, 129, 183–188, 198n30; Baluande prenda, 40, 179–180
prendas in (see Prenda[s]). See also Cuba Bandoki (evildoers), 140, 167, 208–209n49
Agriculture, bisinsu in, 91, 100 Bantu-speaking people, 15–16, 17–18, 30, 64
Aimes, Hubert H. S., 22 Barbosa, Alvaro, 90, 98; bisinsu meanings from, 101–104
Ainsworth, Shaaron, 132 Bascule (balance) ceremony, 154, 187
Alabertina, Nsenga, 12, 90, 108 Bastide, Roger, 8
Alfonso I: Catholicism introduction by, 21; in Portu- Batallones de Pardos y Morenos, 25
gal, 19 Bathing sites, 100
Altamira cave paintings, 52 Battestini, Simon, 6, 9
Amulet, 156–158 Belize, 49
Anaforuana, 121. See also Firma(s) Bembe culture, 72
Anaforuana: Ritual y símbolos de la iniciación en la Bentley, William Holman, 32
sociedad secreta Abakuá (Cabrera), 11 Bidimbu. See Dimbu (bidimbu)
Ancestor worship, 31, 43–44, 150, 194n6 Bikûmu, 118
Andersson, Efraim, 5, 32, 154, 186–187 Bisinsu. See Sinsú (bisinsu)
Angola: Bakongo migration to, 15–16; Caninguiri Boma, bisîmbi at, 36
site of, 51, 54; civil war in, 18, 55; Lovo com- Bomba, 155–156
plex of (see Lovo complex); map of, 51; Mbanza Bones, 16, 162, 194n6
Kongo of (see Mbanza Kongo); refugee resettle- Botanica, 208n36
ment in, 174; Tadi dia Lukingu site of, 60–61, 67; Botanical House of Spirit and Tradition [Botanical
Tadi dia Mfuakumbi site of, 59, 61–62, 65; Tadi House of the Holy Spirit], 90, 104, 107–108, 154,
dia Nemongo site of, 60–61, 62–63; Tchintundo- 205n77; external sign for, 107–108; individual-
Hulo site of, 51, 54, 56–59 ized ndinga i sinsú in, 107; marriage sign in, 107;
An nganga, 17 nkisi in, 154
Announcer, 119 Bottle minkisi, 154
Armas, Francisco de, 12 Bow and arrow, 100, 204n69
Arts africains: Signes et symbols (Faïk-Nzuji), 8, 48 Bozal, 184
Astonishment and Power (MacGaffey), 7 Brásio, António, 20
Brazil, 24, 49
Brenner, Louis, 7
Bachiller, Osvaldo Fresneda, 12, 39; on baconfula, Brett-Smith, Sarah, 9
130–131; on dikenga, 72; on doll nkisi, 161; fir- Breuil, Henri, 50, 90; Kiantapo site symbols from,
mas of, 82–85, 126, 127, 139–147; on lucero, 73, 56–59
74, 75–76, 77; prendas of, 178, 179; stamps from, Brown, David H., 11
131, 133–138 Bull horn makuto (mpaka), 157–158
Bachokwe people, 6, 33, 89 Bundu dia Kongo (BDK), 90, 104, 109, 118; bisinsu
Baconfula, 130–132, 200n77 meanings from, 92–98
221
222 Index
Cabildos, 23, 25–26, 122, 196n51, 196n64 cosmogram); in lucero cosmogram, 73, 74; in
Cabrera, Lydia, 8, 10, 11, 26; on doll minkisi, 161; on muntu ya kuluzu, 107, 108; in ndinga i sinsú,
fi rmas, 121, 129; on nkuyu, 72; on prendas, 162– 107; in ovo bata didi, 107; in Saca Empeño fi rma,
163; stamps from, 133–138 145, 146
Calligraphy, 123, 206n119 Cuba: African cultures in, 22–23; African slave
Caltarnisetta, Fra Luc da, 20 importation to, 21–24; cabildos of, 24, 25–26,
Camões, Luis Vas de, 18 122, 196n51, 197n64; Catholicism in, 24, 26;
Campbell, K. F., 5–6 communism in, 26; fi rmas in (see Firma[s]); free
Candomble/Umbanda, 24 nonwhite militia of, 25; free nonwhites in, 24–25;
Cane, chief’s, 176–177 graphic writing in, 26–27, 49, 120–123 (see also
Caninguiri site, 51, 54, 100 Firma[s]); independence of, 26; Kongo king-
Cão, Diego, 19 dom cultures in, 22, 23; Longo cosmogony of (see
Cardinal points: of dikenga cosmogram, 69–70, 79, Palo Monte); mambo in, 129, 183–188, 198n30;
80, 81; of nkuyu (lucero) cosmogram, 73, 74, minkisi tradition in, 154–159; nkuyu (dikenga)
75–76 cosmogram in, 72–77; palenques of, 25; planta-
Carlson, Amanda, 10 tions in, 24; population growth in, 24–25; pren-
Catholicism, 21, 24, 26 das in (see Prenda[s]); Spanish Africans in, 25–26
Cauldron prenda, 153, 158–160 Cuban Revolution, 26
Cavazzi, Giovanni Antonio da Montecuccolo, 5, 19, Curtin, Philip, 22
20, 32, 157, 160, 176 Custom and Government in the Lower Congo
Cemetery, in Saca Empeño fi rma, 146 (MacGaffey), 7
Césaire, Aimé, 184 Cuvelier, J., 20
Ceyssens, Rik, 8
Chalk, for fi rmas, 127, 128, 129; red, 105; white, Dalby, David, 5, 7, 48
127, 128, 129 Dancing between Two Worlds (Thompson), 149–150
Chamba, 154 Dapper, Olfert, 19, 20, 32, 176
Chief’s cane, 176–177 De Boeck, Filip, 8
Chokwe Sona, bidimbu in, 82–85, 114–118 De Bry, Theodorus, 19
Chola Nguengue prenda, 178–179 Deculturation, 23
Chola Nguengue sîmbi, 40 DeFrancis, J., 5
Church of Black People in Africa, 90, 104, 108; exte- Democratic Republic of Congo, 12; Bakongo migra-
rior sign of, 108 tion to, 15–16, 42; Kiantapo site of, 51, 54, 55,
Circle-of-life signs, 73, 74, 81 56–59; Lovo complex of (see Lovo complex); map
Clark, John Desmond, 15, 18, 90, 194n17 of, 51; Mbuti of, 16
Clay, 91, 105, 178 “De paleros y fi rmas se trata” (León), 11, 122
Clifford, James, 184–185 Deschamps Chapeaux, Pedro, 22
Codes. See Sinsú (bisinsu) Devisch, Renaat, 8
Cofradias, 25–26, 196n51 Diebuyck, Daniel, 8
Color: in Chola Nguengue, 178, 179; in fi rmas, 127; Dieterlen, G., 7
in lucero (nkuyu) cosmogram, 75–76; in sinsú dia Difua, Ne Keva, 90
nguzami, 109; of sun, 70 Dikenga cosmogram, 34–35, 68–71, 77–81; cardinal
Communication: concept of, 1, 64, 90–91, 121; points of, 69–70, 78, 79, 80, 81; center point of,
visual, 47–50, 64 78, 79; circular motion through, 69, 70, 79, 81; in
Community, among slave populations, 23–24 Cuba, 72–77; diamond shape of, 68, 78, 79, 80;
Complexity, Astonishment, and Power (MacGaffey), 7 eastern cardinal point of, 69; function of, 70–71;
Confl ict resolution, fi rmas in, 124 at gravesites, 72–73; interpretation of, 70–71;
Contract (nkandu), 74–75, 166–167 kalûnga (horizontal line) in, 71, 78, 79; in Lovo
Contract of the Secret Cavern, 141–143 complex, 35, 77–81; mukula (vertical line) in, 71,
Cosmogony, 29, 47; Dogon, 6–7, 50, 52. See also 78, 79, 80; Muntu Ya Kilisu of, 71; at Nemongo
Kongo cosmogony (Nza Kôngo); Palo Monte cave, 63; northern cardinal point of, 69–70; pro-
Cosmogram: defi nition of, 47; dikenga, 34–35, peller wheel in, 78, 80; southern cardinal point of,
68–71, 77–81 (see also Dikenga cosmogram); 69, 70; spiral in, 80; structure of, 68–69, 78–81;
nkuyu (lucero) (see Nkuyu [lucero] cosmogram); sun and, 69, 70; at Tadi dia Mfuakumbi site, 61,
at Tadi dia Sîmbi site, 35–36, 81, 86–88; yowa, 62; triangles of, 78, 79–80; Tukula position of,
69, 167 78, 79; western cardinal point of, 70, 78, 81; yowa
Cosmology, 2, 29, 47; Kongo, 30–32, 36–37; Kongo- cross form of, 69
Cuban, 38–39, 40, 41–42 Dilu, Felipe Antonio, 176, 177
Creation myth, 30–31, 36–37, 41–44, 71 Dimbu (bidimbu), 8, 48, 88–119, 203n56; access to,
Cross: in Botanical House of Spirit and Tradition, 110, 118–119; contemporary usage of, 89–110;
107–108; dikenga form of, 69 (see also Dikenga etymology of, 88–89; in Mbanza Kongo, 81–85,
Index 223
89–100, 114–118; meanings of, 88–89, 111–113; Flash of the Spirit (Thompson), 4
priestly responsibility for, 110, 118–119; in south- Flower symbol, of Lemba society, 63
ern Democratic Republic of the Congo, 110, 111– Fontinha, Mário, 90; bidimbu from, 114–118
113, 114–118 Forest, 32, 36, 40
Dingo-dingo dia Luzîngu, 70 Four Moments of the Sun, The (Thompson), 8–9,
Diop, Cheikh Anta, 6, 7 48, 49
Dissociative states, 64–65, 67–68 França, Camarate, 90
Divination ceremony, 77, 128, 183 Franco, José Luciano, 22
Dogon, 6–7, 50, 52 Friedman, Kajsa Ekholm, 20
Doll nkisi, 161 Fu-Kiau, K. K. Bunseki: on Bakongo communi-
Dowson, Thomas, 64, 67 cation, 90; bidimbu from, 111–113, 114–118;
Drinks, religious, 154 on bisîmbi, role of, 198n30; on dikenga cosmo-
Dulandula, Paulino, 12 gram, 69–70; on graphic writing, 48, 49, 119;
on initiation societies, 118; on Kongo cosmog-
Earth: in Kongo cosmogony, 30–32; nkisi representa- ony, 30, 31, 32; on minkisi, 151; on Muhungu,
tion of, 151; in Siete Rayos fi rma, 140–141 37, 199n44
“Effects of Self-Explaining When Learning with Text Funeral art: bisîmbi in, 36; dikenga in, 72–73; in
or Diagrams” (Ainsworth and Loizou), 132 southern United States, 73; tuziku design in, 89
El Monte (Cabrera), 151, 162–163 Funza, 150
Eltis, David, 22
Emptiness, concept of, 71 Geertz, Clifford, 5
Engángo, 121. See also Firma(s) Geometric shapes, 52, 53, 56–59, 60; dissociative
Ervedosa, Carlos, 50, 90; Tchitundo-Hulo site sym- states and, 64–65, 67–68
bols from, 56–59 God, in Kongo cosmogony, 30, 32–33, 68, 70
Europe: Africans in, 25–26; Bakongo contact with, Gomez, Michael A., 22
19–21, 201n81. See also Portugal; Spain “Grand Detroit N’Kondi” (Thompson), 167–168
Existence, division of, 31 Grapheme, 47
Eyes: in nkisi nkondi, 165–166; of prenda, 158, 159; Graphic writing systems, 1–3, 47–50, 64, 91; access
in Siete Rayos fi rma, 139 to, 110, 118–119, 129–131; constituent units of,
47–48; contemporary terms for, 90; literature
Faces of the Gods (Thompson), 70–71 on, 4–12, 48–49, 50, 89–90, 121–123; mean-
Faïk-Nzuji, Clémentine, 8; bidimbu from, 114–118; ing in, 47–48, 64, 65–67; physical forms of (see
on graphic writing, 48; on spiral, 80 Nkisi [minkisi]; Prenda[s]); religious use of, 91,
Feathers, in nkisi nkondi, 165 98, 104–110; rupestrian (see Rupestrian art); secu-
Fédry, Jacques, 7, 48 lar use of, 91, 98–104. See also Dimbu (bidimbu);
Fertility symbol, 100 Firma(s); Sinsú (bisinsu)
Fimba, 121 Greenberg, Joseph H., 5, 7, 48
Firma(s), 82–85, 119–147, 205n101; access to, 129– Griaule, Marcel, 6–7, 50
132; activation of, 128–129; baconfula responsi- Gunpowder, 129
bility for, 130–132; central stamp of, 125–126;
centrifugal, 126; centripetal, 126; chalk for, 127,
129; colors of, 127; in confl ict resolution, 124; in Haiti, 24, 49
divination ceremony, 128, 183; in energy transac- Harney, Elizabeth, 9, 10
tions, 123; Felipe Garcia Villamil’s use of, 82–85; Healing ceremony, fi rmas in, 128
functions of, 123–124, 128–129; gunpowder for, Heart, 107–108; fi rma for, 125; symbol of, 107–108
129; in healing ceremony, 128; history of, 120– Henry (son of Alfonso I), of Kongo kingdom, 19
123; in initiation ceremony, 128; Insancio (Siete Hersak, Dunja, 8
Rayos), 138–141; linear, 126; locations of, 127; Heusch, Luc de, 8
mambo interaction with, 187; manual of, 81–85; Hilton, Anne, 17
meanings of, 126–127; mediums of, 127; Muana, Human mpungu, 177–178
128; of Nso a Nkisi, 181–182; Osvaldo Fresneda Humboldt, Alexander von, 22
Bachiller’s use of, 82–85; peripheral stamps of, Hunting, bisinsu in, 91, 92–100, 101–104
126; prenda interaction with, 180–183; priestly
responsibility for, 129–132; reading of, 126, 138– Identity, in Afro-Cuban culture, 10–11; in ndinga i
147; in religious physical spaces, 181–183; in reli- sinsú, 107
gious teaching, 123–124; Saca Empeño (Pledge Ideogram, 47
Elicitor), 143–147; Secret Cavern, 141–143; self- Igresia de Negros en Africa (Church of Black People
explaining for, 131–132; sharp style of, 127; social in Africa), 90, 104, 108
motivations for, 124; soft style of, 127; stamps of, Imbondeiro tree, 109–110
124–127, 132–147, 182–183 INAF. See Igresia de Negros en Africa
224 Index
Initiation ceremonies: knowledge transmission and, Langalanga, 174, 209n55

118; in Lemba society, 63, 69; in Palo Monte, 44, Le geste Kôngo (Thompson), 36, 86
121, 128, 131–132 Leiris, Michele, 6
Insancio (Siete Rayos) fi rma, 138–141 Lemba ceremony, 86, 87–88
Inscribing Meaning: Writing and Graphic Systems in Lemba society, 37, 63, 69, 160
African Art (Kreamer and Adams), 9–10 Lembéta, bidimbu in, 114–118
León, Argeliers, 8, 10, 11, 72, 122
Jackson, Donald, 7 Le renard pâle (Griaule and Dieterlen), 7, 50, 52
Jadin, Louis, 20 Lévy-Bruhl, Lucien, 5, 48
Jamaica, 49 Lewis-Williams, David, 64
Jensen, H., 5 Lienhard, Martin, 184
Jung, C. G., 5 Livingstone, David, 5, 20
Loizou, Andrea Th, 132
Los cabildos y la fiesta afrocubanos del Día de Reyes
Kahn, Muhammad Ali, 7 (Ortiz), 25
Kalûnga, 30–32, 165, 167; in Cuba, 39; defi nition of, Los negros esclavos (Ortiz), 10–11, 22
30–31, 32; meanings of, 32 “Lovo: Dessins rupestres du Bas-Congo” (Raymaek-
Kalûnga (horizontal line), in dikenga cosmogram, 71, ers and van Moorsel), 50
78, 79 Lovo complex, 50, 52–54; ceramic fragments at,
Kiantapo site, 51; symbols found at, 54, 55, 56–59 52–53; dikenga cosmogram in, 35, 77–81 (see
Kikongo language, 8 also Dikenga cosmogram); map for, 51; motifs
Kikoroto, 40 at, 60–61; signs and symbols at, 52, 53, 56–59,
Kimbanguista Church, 90, 104, 118 81–85. See also Rupestrian art
Kindoki, 208n49 Luba culture, 8, 17–18, 30, 37
Kiniumba kia Mbumba, 171–173 Luba-Kasai culture, 69, 88
Kinkete kia kânga ye Kutulu mâmbu, 91 Lucero cosmogram. See Nkuyu (lucero) cosmogram
Kinkimba society, 37 Lucumi religion, 156
Kiple, Kenneth F., 22 Lufuakenda, Ngudi N’ganga Mama Isabel, 105
Klein, Herbert S., 22 Lugambe, kalûnga as, 39
Knife, in Siete Rayos fi rma, 139 Lukobe lwa Lèmba, 160
Knight, Franklin, 24 Lunda culture, 17–18, 30, 37
Knots/knotting, 91, 119, 167–171; forms of, 168–169 Lusiads, The (Camões), 18
Kongo, 16–17 Lusolo, Francisco, 12, 90, 107
Kongo, The (Laman), 29 Lwangu (Loango) myth, 43–44
Kongo cosmogony (Nza Kôngo), 30–38; bisîmbi in,
33–36; creation myth in, 30–31; earth in, 30–32; Mabika, 119
forces, powers, and beings of, 35, 37, 38; God in, Mabôndo figures, 36
32–33; human origin myth in, 36–37. See also MacGaffey, Wyatt, 8; on dikenga, 72; on Kongo reli-
Palo Monte gion, 29–30, 31, 32; on methodology, 5, 7; on
Kongo kingdom: archive material on, 20; European nganga, 163; on nkisi nkondi, 165
contact with, 18, 19–21; history of, 18–21; indus- MacGregor, J. K., 6, 48
tries of, 19–20; neighboring cultures of, 17–18; Magic eye, 158, 159
organization of, 18–19; origin of, 15–16, 18–19; Makáva (Makongo), 109
slaves from, 21–24; territorial extent of, 18 Ma Kisi Nsi, 21
Kongo religion, 29–30; cosmogony of, 30–38 (see Makolo, 119
also Kongo cosmogony [Nza Kôngo]); emotional Makuku Matatu, 207n22
realm of, 30; interworld relations in, 30; physical Makuto, 156–158
realm of, 30; spiritual realm of, 30. See also Palo Malangume, 43, 200n78
Monte Malinowski, Bronislaw, 8, 10
Kongo Religious Philosophy (Fu-Kiau), 30 Mama Chola (Mama Mpungu), 178–179
Kreamer, Christine, 9–10 Mama Kalûnga, 39, 179–180
Kuba culture, 17–18, 30, 37, 80 Mambele myth, 42–43
Kubik, Gerhard, 6, 47 Mambe myth, 40, 41–44
Kuna Mboma (Tadi dia Sîmbi), 35–36, 81, 86–88 Mambo, 129, 183–188, 198n30; languages in, 185;
Kuruma, 40 lessons of, 187–188; lyrics of, 184–186; Mambe
celebration in, 44; spirit request of, 186–187
Lacouture, J., 48 Mambu, 165
Laman, Karl, 5; on bisîmbi, 36; The Kongo of, 29; Marcus, George E., 184
on minkisi, 150, 162, 163, 166; on nkuyu, 72, Maria y Jose, Jesus, 26
203n42; on Nzambi a Mpungu, 32–33, 199n39 Marrero, Levi, 197n64
Index 225
Martins, Joaquim, 90 forms of, 174–175; nganga communication

Maspéro, Gaston, 7 with, 176
Matadi, bisîmbi at, 36 Mpungu a Nkisi (Nkisi Nkondi), 165–167, 169–171
Mateo de Anguiano, Juan Garcia, 20 Mpungu a Ntu, 177–178
Matiabo, 161 Muana fi rma, 128
Matrilineality, 16, 17 Mudimbe, Victor Y., 7
Maurer, Evan M., 7–8 Muhungu (fi rst human), 36–37, 199n39
Mauss, Marcel, 48 Mukuku Matatu (Fu-Kiau), 30
Mayombe, 120, 205n94 Mukula (vertical line), in dikenga cosmogram, 71, 78,
Mayordomo, 43, 201n73 79, 80
Mazita (knotting techniques), 91, 119, 168–171 Mukula nkisi, 150
Mbanza Kongo, 12, 19, 50, 51, 205n93; bidimbu Munanso, 181–183
of, 82–85, 88–91, 114–118; bisinsu of, 88–110; Mûntu, 202n24
Botanical House of Spirit and Tradition of, 90, Muntu ya kuluzu, 71, 107, 108
104, 107–108, 154, 205n77; Bundu dia Kongo of, Musical performance. See Mambo
90, 92–98, 104, 109; Church of Black People in Mvuala a Mpungu, 176–177
Africa of, 90, 104, 108; communication concept Myth(s), 29, 197n3; creation, 30–31, 36–37, 41–44,
in, 90; initiation societies of, 63; Lovo site of (see 71; Kongo, 30–31, 36–37; Kongo-Cuban, 40,
Lovo complex); motifs from, 59, 60–61; Mpeve ya 41–44; of Tadi dia Mfuakumbi site, 62
Nlongo church of, 90, 104, 105–107; sîmbi system
of, 34, 35; Tadi dia Sîmbi site of, 35–36 Nail-studded minkisi, 151–152, 166, 167–168
Mbôngi, 119 Na-Makolo, 119
Mbuti people, 16 Namib Desert, 100
Medicine (bilongo), 39, 40; in Kiniumba a Mbumba, Narrative, 29, 61, 64; of fi rma, 126; at Tadi dia Mfua-
172–173; nkisi as, 150, 161–163, 165 kumbi site, 61, 62
Medicine pouch (bomba), 155–156 Ndembu people, 8
Methodology, 12–13, 202n17 Ndinga a ntima, 107
Meurant, Georges, 6, 7 Ndinga Bisinsu, 90
Mfi nda a Ntuta site, 62, 66; flower symbol at, 63; Ndinga i Sinsu, 90
motifs at, 60–61, 66 Ndinga i sinsú, 98, 107–108
Middle Passage, 23–24 Ndinga Sambasu Samalulu, 105
Miller, Joseph, 20 Neives, Paulino, bisinsu meanings from, 92–98
Minkisi. See Nkisi (minkisi) Nevunda, Ntinu Nzaku, 12, 15–16, 81, 90, 171
Moises, Miguel, 63, 109 Newman, James L., 15
Mondern Kongo Prophets: Religion and Society in a Nfumbe, 43–44, 164
Plural Society (MacGaffey), 30 Ngame, Matuku, 88, 204n56
Montesarchio, Girolamo, 20 Nganga, 157–158, 159–160, 163, 176
Moon: in Siete Rayos fi rma, 138, 139; symbol of, 88–89 Ngânga-Nkôndi, 118–119
Moorsel, Hendrik van, 50, 52 Ngo (leopard guardian), 43
Morales, Prio, 26 Nima a Nzima, 18
Moreno Fraginals, Manuel, 22 Nkadi Mpemba, 21
Mortelmans, G., 90 Nkama a Mbenza, 170–171
Motifs, 59, 60–61, 62; at Mfi nda a Ntuta site, 60–61, Nkandu (contract), 74–75, 166–167
66; at Tadi dia Lukingu site, 60–61, 67; at Tadi Nkento a Mbenza, 170
dia Mfuakumbi site, 60–61, 65 Nkisi (minkisi), 149–180; activation of, 163; amu-
Mpaka, 157–158 let, 156–158; bottle, 154; bull horn, 157–
Mpangu, Ne Wanzinga, 90 158; cauldron, 153, 158–160; in central Africa,
Mpeve ya Nlongo church, 90, 104, 105–107, 118; 162, 164–176; classification of, 163–164; con-
external sign on, 105; internal signs in, 105–107; struction of, 164–178; contract in, 151, 165,
red writing of, 105; secret language of revelation 166–167; in Cuba, 154–159, 161; defi nition
of, 105 of, 149, 150; doll, 161; earth as, 151; etymol-
Mpindi a Tadi, 81, 86–88 ogy of, 149; eyes in, 165–166; fi rst, 149–150;
Mpuku a Nsuku, 18 forms of, 151–157; gesture in, 171; glass-bottle,
Mpungu, 168–178; chief’s cane as spirit of, 176– 154; knotting techniques in, 168–171; med-
177; gesture in, 171; human body, 177–178; Kin- icines in, 150, 161–163, 165; nail-studded,
iumba, 171–173; knots in, 169–170; Nkama a 151–152, 166, 167; nkisi nkondi, 165–167,
Mbenza, 170–171 169–171; nkuyu and, 72, 202–203n42; open
Mpúngu, 121, 205n98 mouth in, 165, 166; origin of, 149–150; pierc-
Mpungu a Nkama, 173–176; construction of, 174– ing techniques in, 167–168; portable, 153–155;
175; fabric covering of, 176; male and female pouch (bomba), 155; purposes of, 163–164;
226 Index
Nkisi (minkisi) (continued) nkuyu cosmogram in, 72–77; participatory hierar-

rope coil in, 166–167; sack/pouch, 152, 153, chy in, 130; prendas in (see Prenda[s]); priests of,
155–156; sîmbi in, 34; Western museum treat- 12–13, 119–120, 124, 129–132; religious house
ment of, 7; world minaturization and, 151. See also of, 181–182
Prenda(s) Patronato, for free slaves, 22
Nkisi Lemba, 153, 154 Pende culture, 17–18, 30, 37
Nkisi Mayiza, 155 Pessoa de Castro, Yeda, 8
Nkisi Mbenza, 162 Petit, Pierre, 8
Nkisi Nkita Mutadi, 152, 153 Petridis, Constantine, 7
Nkisi Nkondi, 165–167, 169–171 Pictogram, 47
Nkisi Nkondi ya Ntilumuka, 154 Pictograph, 47
Nkisi Suku Mbuki, 155 Pigafetta, Filippo de, 20
Nkita (priest of sîmbi), 30, 34 Pink flower, 99–100
Nkosi nkisi, 163 Plantations, in Cuba, 24
N’kûnga, 118 Pledge Elicitor fi rma, 143–147
Nkuyu (lucero) cosmogram, 72–77, 203n42; circle Pocket amulet, 156–158
of, 72, 73, 74; colors in, 75–76; cross of, 73, 74; Polar, Joan Paulino, 12, 90; bisinsu meanings from,
design modifications of, 73–74, 76; four positions 92–98
of, 73, 74, 75–76; function of, 72; nkandu (con- Portugal: Bakongo individuals in, 19; Kongo king-
tract) and, 74–75; prenda with, 74, 75; sun and, dom contact with, 18, 19–21; military invasions
76–77 by, 23
Noki, bisîmbi at, 36 Prehistoric Cultures of Northeast Angola and Their
Nsaku, in Portugal, 19 Significance in Tropical Africa (Clark), 18
Nsi a bafwa (land of the dead), 31 Prehistory of Africa, The (Clark), 15
Nso a Nkisi, 181–182 Prenda(s), 158–160, 200n55; Baluande, 40, 179–
Nsonokono zabândulwa, 118 180; cauldron, 153, 158–160; Chola Nguengue,
Ntadi dya Simbi (Tadi dia Sîmbi), 35–36, 81, 86–88 178–179; in divination ceremony, 183; fi rma inter-
Ntadi nkisi, 163–164 action with, 180–183; generations of, 41; Kalûnga
Ntubirona, 44 representation as, 32; lucero cosmogram with, 74,
Ntutu a nlongo, 154 75; miniaturization and, 151; in religious house,
Nvilayidi, motifs at, 60–61 181–182; spirits in, 158–159, 164; vititi messo,
Nza Cuba. See Palo Monte 158, 159
Nza Kôngo. See Kongo cosmogony (Nza Kôngo) Priests: graphic writing access by, 110, 118–119; of
Nzamba, 154 Palo Monte, 12–13, 119–120, 124, 129–132
Nzambi a Mpungu, 32–33, 37 Proverb(s), 64, 65–67; about boko, 130, 131; about
Nzambi a Mpungu Tuleno, 32 dead, 31; “Disu muna disu, mena muna meno,”
Nza yayi (this world), 31 65; about heart, 107–108; in initiation soci-
ety, 118; about life cycle, 70; mambo with, 187;
mambú, 187–188; about Muhungu, 199n44;
Obenga, Théophile, 6
“Mvu ke mvu mia nkundalala,” 66; “Ndiata a
Ocha (Lukumi), 12
lunwenya,” 67; “O nsusu vokelaya nga makiko
O mare o mato: Histórias da escravidão (Lienhard),
ngola negola,” 65; about sun and moon, 89; at
184
Tadi dia Mfuakumbi site, 62; about three cir-
Oral Tradition as History (Vansina), 184
cles, 79; “Tuna mvovela lendo lua Nzambi,” 65;
Ortiz, Fernando, 8, 10–11, 22, 24, 25, 121, 188
“Vena o mbuta vena mpe a nlenke vena mpe diadi
Ovo bata didi, 107
o yalanga,” 66; “Vena owu kevakadi owu ko,” 65;
“Wanda wa lufua,” 66; about water, 39
Palenques, 25 Pulgaron, Merced, 26
Paleros, 32
Palmie, Stephan, 11 Raymaekers, Paul, 50, 52, 90; Lovo site symbols and
Palm trees, in Kongo cosmogony, 36 signs from, 53, 56–59, 82–85
Palo Monte, 3–4, 30, 38–45; ancestor worship in, Redinha, José, 50, 90; bidimbu from, 114–118
43–44; baconfula in, 130–132, 200n77; bisîmbi Red writing, 105
in, 39–40; bomba in, 155–156; branches of, 39, Reglas de Congo: Palo Monte Mayombe (Cabrera),
40, 120; chamba in, 154; circle-of-life signs in, 11, 26
73, 74; creation myths in, 38–39, 41–44; fi rmas Rivals, Mayifwila Rafael, 12, 90, 171
in (see Firma[s]); forest in, 40; generational reli- Rivet, Paul, 48
gious objects in, 40–41; initiation ceremonies in, Roberts, Allen F., 7–8, 30
44, 128, 131–132; Mambe myth in, 40, 41–44; Roberts, Mary Nooter, 7, 8, 9, 30
mukula in, 71; nkandu (contract) in, 74–75; Roma, Giovanni Francesco da, 20
Index 227
Rope coil, in minkisi, 166–167 Southern United States, grave-marking tradition

Rope knots/knotting, 91, 119, 167–171; forms of, in, 73
168–169 Spain: Altamira cave paintings of, 52; cofradias in,
Royal societies (sociedades reinados), 25 25; free nonwhite Cuban milita for, 25; in slave
Rupestrian art, 50–88; bow and arrow in, 100; at trade, 22
Caninguiri site, 51, 54, 100; dating of, 52–54; Spinal deformity, Kongo etymology and, 17
in Democratic Republic of the Congo, 54, 55, Stamps, 124–127; of Contract of the Secret Cavern
56–59, 60–61; in Dogon culture, 50, 52; geo- fi rma, 141–143; of Insancio (Siete Rayos) fi rma,
metric shapes in, 52, 53, 60; interpretation of, 52, 138–141; of Nso a Nkisi, 181–182; at Palo Monte
64, 67–68; inventory in, 64; at Kiantapo site, 54, house, 181; on prendas, 178, 179, 180; of Saca
55, 56–59; at Lovo complex sites, 34, 35, 50, 51, Empeño (Pledge Elicitor) fi rma, 143–147
52–54, 56–59, 60, 77–88; manual of, 81–85; map Stanley, Henry Morton, 5, 20
for, 51; at Mfi nda a Ntuta site, 60, 62, 63, 66; Star, in Contract of the Secret Cavern fi rma, 141, 142
narrative in, 64; in northern Angola, 50, 52–53, Stevens, John, 123, 206n119
56–59, 60–61; sites of, 50, 51, 64; in southern Strother, Zoe, 7
Africa, 64–65; in southern Angola, 54, 56–59; at Suku kia Kalûnga, 32
Tadi dia Mfuakumbi site, 59, 61–62, 65; at Tadi Sun: in Contract of the Secret Cavern fi rma, 141,
dia Mvulayidi site, 67; at Tadi dia Nemongo site, 142; dikenga cosmogram and, 69, 70; in divina-
65; at Tadi dia Sîmbi site, 81, 86–88; at Tchin- tion ritual, 77; moon’s relationship to, 89; nkuyu
tundo-Hulo site, 54, 56–59 cosmogram and, 76–77; in Saca Empeño fi rma,
143–144; in Siete Rayos fi rma, 138–139; symbol
Saca Empeño fi rma, 143–147 of, 88–89
Sacred Calligraphy of the East (Stevens), 123, Susuni tobacco company, 121
206n119 Symbols, 88–89. See also Dimbu (bidimbu); Sinsú
São Tomé, 21 (bisinsu)
Savão, Pedro, 12, 90, 109; bisinsu meanings from, Syncretism, 24, 118
92–98
Schwegler, Armin, 185
Tabwa culture, 30, 37
Scribe, 119
Tabwa: The Rising of a New Moon: A Century of
Secret Cavern, Contract of, fi rma, 141–143
Tabwa Art (Maurer and Roberts), 7–8
Seke, Alfonso, 12, 90
Tadi dia Lukingu site, motifs at, 60–61, 67
Self-Healing Power and Therapy: Old Teachings from
Tadi dia Mfuakumbi site, 59, 61–62, 65; motifs at,
Africa (Fu-Kiau), 48, 49, 118
60–61, 65
Siete Rayos (Insancio) fi rma, 138–141
Tadi dia Mvulayidi site, 67
Signature. See Firma(s)
Tadi dia Nemongo site: libation at, 62–63; motifs at,
Silverman, Raymond A., 9
60–61
Sîmbi (bisîmbi): in funeral art, 36; in Kongo cosmog-
Tadi dia Sîmbi site, 35–36, 81, 86–88
ony, 30, 33–36; in Palo Monte, 39–40; protective
Tchintundo-Hulo site, 51, 54, 56–59
role of, 33, 40; in rupestrian art, 34–36; sample
Tezua, motifs at, 60–61
of, 33–34, 35
Thompson, Robert Farris, 4, 8–9; bidimbu from,
Sîmbi dia Maza, 39–40
114–118; on bilongo, 162; on bow and arrow sym-
Sîmbi kia Maza, 35
bol, 204n69; on dikenga, 70–71, 73; on funeral
Sinsú (bisinsu), 48, 88–119, 203n56; access to, 110,
art, 36; on graphic writing, 48, 49; Kongo/Congo
118–119; in agriculture, 91, 100; contemporary
use by, 17; on mambo, 186; on minkisi, 149–150,
usage of, 89–110; etymology of, 89; in hunting,
151, 159, 167–168; on Palo Monte, 122–123; on
91, 92–100, 101–104; meanings of, 91, 92–98,
Tadi dia Sîmbi, 36, 81, 86, 87
101–104; priestly responsibility for, 110, 118–119;
Thornton, John, 8, 18, 20, 21, 23
red chalk in, 105; religious use of, 91, 98, 104–
Transculturation, 10
110; secular use of, 98–104, 119; in travel, 91,
Travel, bisinsu in, 91, 92–100, 101–104
92–100, 101–104
Tree/tree branches: Imbondeiro, 109–110; marks on,
Sinsú dia nguzami, 109
100, 109–110; in Mpungu a Nkama, 173, 175
Sinsu Kamienga Mayeso, 105
Trinidad, 49
Sînsu kiangudi kia nza-kongo, 70
Tschitolian industry, 16
Sinsu kia Nguisami, 48
Tuchsherer, Konrad, 9
Skull, in Saca Empeño fi rma, 144, 145, 146
Turkey, John, 90
Slavery, 16–17, 21–23; cultural impact of, 23–24;
Turner, Victor, 8
Kongo nomenclature and, 17
Sociedades reinados (royal societies), 25
Sona writing, 6 Vansina, Jan, 8, 20, 184
Southern Africa, rupestrian art in, 64–65 Verger, Pierre, 8
228 Index
Villamil, Felipe Garcia, 12, 39, 43, 207n32, 209n84; Wasiwadimbu, Ne Nzinga, 90
on baconfula, 130–131; on dikenga, 72, 81; Water: in Kongo cosmogony, 31, 32, 35, 36; in Palo
on doll minkisi, 161; fi rmas of, 82–85, 127; on Monte cosmogony, 38–39, 125, 178–180
lucero, 73, 74, 75–76; makuto of, 156; mambo Wing, Joseph van, 5, 15–16, 32, 150, 186
from, 187–188; on mpaka, 157; and Rompe Writing Culture: The Poetics and Politics of Ethnogra-
Monte, 208n32; stamps from, 131, 133–138 phy (Clifford), 184–185
Vititi messo, 139, 141, 158, 159
Vunda, 36, 199n38 Yaya Bilongo, 161
Yowa cosmogram, 69, 167
Wanda, 66
Wannyn, R. L., 36 Zola, Ne Katembo, 90
Warburton, William, 7 Zola, Ne Lisimana, 90
Bárbaro Martínez-Ruiz is an Assistant Professor in African Art and Its
Diaspora/Latin American and Caribbean Arts at Stanford University.

Barbaro Martinez-Ruiz - Kongo Graphic Writing and Other Narratives of The Sign (2013, Temple University Press)

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Kongo Graphic Writing

and Other Narratives

Temple University Press Philadelphia

Copyright © 2013 by Temple University

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Printed in the United States of America

2 The Atlantic Passage: The Spread of Kongo Belief

3 The Process of Meaning Making: The Kongo Universe 29

4 Afro-Atlantic Graphic Writing: Bidimbu,

5 Beyond the Scripture: Physical Forms

No project of this scale is possible without the support of an incredible

recently, Marcel Biluka, director of culture in the Zaire province of Angola.

Kongo Graphic Writing is a study of structured visual expression among the

Campbell, J. K. MacGregor, G. Meurant, Cheikh Anta Diop, Théophile

implications of the development of this tradition across forms of visual

Amanda Carlson) to discussions of language as used in contemporary Af-

ences to the work of historian Hubert Aimes, the cultural distribution of

While Thompson and others have succeeded in expanding the study

The Atlantic Passage:

At the Kongo of the king

According to Balandier, this legend alludes to a migration under one sin-

contact, as explorers, missionaries, and colonial administrators did not rec-

cosmology, and cosmogony of the Kongo and their neighbors, as discussed

organized through a centralized government seated in the capital city of

to Fernando Ortiz, the influx of Africans to Cuba began as early as 1517,

notion of community, should be included in a historical narrative of the

development of religious and cultural traditions and are an important ele-

result of migration of Spanish Africans to Cuba. As in Europe, Cuban cabil-

ditional knowledge and allowed it to remain relevant in a changing world.

The Process of Meaning Making:

Kongo coSmogony: nZa KÔngo

ation, told in the following paragraph, which positions kalûnga as “a fi re-

Fu-Kiau explains this view of earth as a self-sufficient container, stat-

Laman further points out that usage of kalûnga or Nzambi a Mpungu

• Sîmbi-mamba n’kwa-mandoto: the spirit of the water or the ances-

• Sîmbi Nkodia: the sîmbi of death, of resting 29

Figure 1 illustrates the complexity of the sîmbi system as conceptual-

f i g U r e 1 Graphic illustrating the interconnected forces and entities conceptualized

As explored in more depth in the next chapter, dikenga is a common sym-

• Nzambi a Mpungu Tulendo (universal vitality and power)

f i g U r e 2 Graphic illustrating the Bakongo religious system. (drawing by Bárbaro

Kongo coSmogony: nZa cUba

tion” referring to a single stage in the development of a given type of reli-

of the neighboring villages, because the stability of the community de-

For Kongo-Cubans, the great ancestor is actually represented in the

in Matanzas in relation to the mythical Kongo city Lwangu, which today is

Muna munan Nzambe nganga muna Nzambe

For the sign of God’s command I have prayed to

The death of Mambe signals the beginning of a practice of ancestor

Afro-Atlantic Graphic Writing:

Kongo Graphic Writing Systems: Overview of

Robert Farris Thompson has provided the most thorough study of

Kongo systems of graphic communication on both sides of the Atlantic. An

ancient memory: rUpeStrian art in centraL africa

f i g U r e 3 map of rupestrian art sites throughout angola and the

f i g U r e 5 rupestrian painting from the Kiantapo site, democratic republic of the

Angola is arguably attributable at least in part to the lack of access to the

ta b L e 1 Comparison of a wide range of key symbols found in lovo (luvo),

Lovo tchitundo-hulo Kiantapo

Lovo tchitundo-hulo Kiantapo

(continued on next page)

Lovo tchitundo-hulo Kiantapo

Lovo tchitundo-hulo Kiantapo