African Masquerades
While researching on eBay, I stumbled upon a seller offering a collection of African masquerades. The link was quite lengthy and took up a lot of space in this post, so I’ve shortened it for convenience. Here’s the link:
https://rb.gy/cfqsfu
What first caught my attention was how the masks were described. The listing referred to them as a "lot of 3." Now, this could be an accurate description, but it struck me as odd because of my past experiences shopping at flea markets, sports card shops, and gift stores. In these environments, the term "lot" is often used to describe a bulk set of items—like a box of vintage baseball cards being sold at a discount or a pile of surplus bricks someone’s trying to get rid of. In these cases, "lot" typically refers to a collection of goods being sold in bulk, often with little regard for their individual significance.
At first glance, this might seem like a sign of misunderstanding on the seller's part. But upon further inspection, there's more to the story. The seller's listing includes close-up photos of the masks, and I noticed that they are tagged—tags that look remarkably similar to the ones you'd find on clothing sold in department stores or malls. One of the tags reads, "Capture the Essence of Africa." While this might sound appealing to a potential buyer or collector of cultural artifacts, the question arises: Is the "essence" really being captured?
The word "essence" refers to the intrinsic nature or essential qualities of something that define its character. While these masks are indeed beautiful and legitimate, there’s something missing. They represent a surface-level interpretation, but not the deeper cultural or spiritual significance they once held.
I’m reminded of a specific experience I had last summer at the Wellfleet Drive-in Flea Market in Cape Cod, Massachusetts. The market is filled with vendors selling everything from knick-knacks to collectibles and religious artifacts. As I wandered through, I came across a vendor with an extensive collection of African artifacts, including masquerades. There were so many items on display that the tarp they were spread across was barely visible.
As with most flea markets, there was a lot of haggling and attempts to draw in buyers. I wasn’t planning to make any purchases, as I hadn’t brought enough cash, but I struck up a conversation with the vendor. He told me that he frequently travels to Africa, immerses himself in the tribes’ cultures, and selects artifacts to bring back for sale. Some of these items, he explained, were replicas—crafted in the last 15 years to represent traditions of the past. While I found the conversation fascinating, I couldn’t help but feel uneasy about buying one of these items. I felt a disconnect, as I couldn’t relate to the artifact on a cultural or spiritual level, nor could I appreciate its true significance without deeper understanding.
I watched the vendor make a sale, and though I was intrigued, I left the market with a sense of emptiness. There’s something hollow about acquiring these items without a personal connection—without the knowledge or experience to truly appreciate their cultural context.
Why are these artifacts, originally tied to sacred traditions and cultures, being sold at a flea market? Why are they so far removed from their origins, mingling with mass-produced goods and memorabilia? These were questions that stayed with me throughout the day, and it wasn’t until recently that I began to explore the deeper implications of reselling these cultural artifacts. I began to wonder about the balance between making these items accessible to the wider world and the potential for commodifying them in a way that strips away their deeper meaning.
To conclude, the “lot of 3” I found on eBay may indeed appeal to the tourist market—those looking for a piece of African culture to display in their homes or offices. The language used in the listing, like "used," "pretty old," and "African culture," seems designed to attract buyers with limited knowledge of the artifacts. Unfortunately, these types of descriptions often appeal to those seeking validation or status rather than true cultural understanding. However, there are countless people around the world who are genuinely interested in these artifacts—not for display, but to connect with the energy, spirituality, and wisdom they represent.
