Sacred Technology

At the end of 2018 I went to an exhibit called Striking Iron: The Art of African Blacksmiths on display at the UCLA Fowler Museum. The collection (a travelling exhibit) highlights the diverse histories of metallurgy on the African continent through the creative work of blacksmiths from places such as present-day Nigeria, Democratic Republic of Congo, Cameroon, Kenya, Sudan, South Africa and Zimbabwe (among others).

The item shown above was captioned as follows:

Artist unknown (Shona, Ndebele peoples, Zimbabwe), Axe (tsotsa), 19th century, iron, wood, brass.

The description points out the braided wires in the design, a technique that dates back to at least the 13th-14th century CE. The fine details of the axe imply that it was likely a ceremonial object.

The artistry of each piece – farming tools, staves, hair pins, weapons, instruments (including a few mbira at the end) – was revealed in iron curves, beveled edges and carved details in wood. The objects on display were mostly from the 19th & 20th C but reflect practices that stretch back 2,500 years. Photographs and descriptions are accessible on the main website and research publications are listed below. 

I was drawn in not only because of the connections between ironwork and mbira, but as a means to think about congruent histories of iron technologies more broadly across sub-Saharan Africa and, at a local level, how present-day blacksmiths in Zimbabwe apply and adapt these longstanding practices.

Clapperton Mavhunga has written extensively about the importance of de-centering Western-driven concepts of science, technology and innovation (STI) (i.e., 2014, 2017). African iron technologies – the objects themselves, how they are made and used – are one such arena that challenges dominant perceptions of technology as originating solely “from the West” (Mavhunga 2017).

For example, from an NPR story: According to the curator, Tom Joyce, “Africans actually preceded Europeans by 300 to 400 years in the development of bellowing technology that allowed more efficient smelting by preheating the iron with a mixture of hot and cool air”.

Evidence of early iron technologies in areas of (what is now) Zimbabwe date back to approximately the 13th- 14th century. In a Smithsonian publication on the exhibit, the author writes:

“The substantial number of iron hoe blades found together outside the Great Enclosure confirms that locally forged tools enabled agriculture on a scale to feed many thousands. These blade forms were probably also used as currencies. Because no large slag mounds have been found at or near the site, iron production likely occurred throughout the area. This suggests a tribute system through which taxation of small production sites met the demand for iron at Great Zimbabwe.”

Archaeologist Shadrek Chirikure (who was a collaborator on the Striking Iron project) and team demonstrate how Portuguese traders in the 15th to 19th centuries preferred African iron goods because of their superior quality, which was made possible by local smelting technology using bellows. This was in contrast to the use of blast furnaces that were prominent in Portugal at the time (Chirikure et al. 2017). The Portuguese had a number of trading posts throughout the Zambezi valley (including what is now Northeastern Zimbabwe and areas of Mozambique), in areas governed by the Mutapa state from approximately 1450 to 1884 (Pikirayi 2004). Archaeological evidence shows close ties between the material cultures of Great Zimbabwe and Mutapa, which are two extensive examples among a network of trading routes used for iron and other goods. 

The exhibit showed how smelting technologies became popular throughout Africa as practices diversified to fit local materials and needs. These days, bellows are still used to heat and shape metal, but the source of metal is more often recycled from parts of machines, bikes, mattresses, cars, etc. rather than smelted from iron ore. Below is a video of Sekuru Matomati heating and shaping the metal for an axe (what he called ‘demo’). That day he was also making badza and mbezo (a hoe and adze) at his home in Tsonga Village. 

The video shows how he heats the fire with bellows that are made from a plastic grain sack. This air moves to the fire through a small pipe that’s fed under a short stack of bricks set up to shelter the flames on one side. The metal is leaf springs from an old car, a high-carbon steel used to create strong tools. He constructed the wooden handles of the tools from the musika tree and you’ll see in the video how he covers the top of each handle with sap from a tree called mukuyu. The sap acts as a waterproof seal and dyes the wood a pale red. At the end of the video is a photo of Sekuru Matomati showcasing the finished products.

In the video, you can hear Sekuru Matomati telling a story about how he came to play mbira. He wasn’t actually telling this particular story while working, though. We thought it would be nice to get the effect of what it’s like to spend time with Sekuru at his home, where he is often telling stories in between tasks or while busy with something- making sure the goats are taken care of, building, fixing, etc. In this clip, he speaks to Zack and I in English, recounting how he began to play mbira through dreams in the late 1970s, eventually becoming sick until he was able to acquire an instrument and play for ceremonies. We were lucky to have so much of his attention on this day, since he is usually busy with all kinds of matters as sabhuku, or village head, of Tsonga Village. 

Sekuru Matomati pounds a key for an old matepe

While a matepe player and experienced tool maker, Sekuru Matomati is not a mbira builder, per se, but he does re-tune, tighten, adjust and build individual keys for mbira when the need arises. This is done by pounding thick metal wire, sometimes with ‘just a bit’ of heat. Builders like Sekuru Enochi Nyasvigo in Nyamapanda and madhebhe maker Sekuru Efraim Masarakufa also use wire and other small pieces to pound the keys, so heat isn’t an essential part of the process. Hera builder James Kamwaza from Nyanhewhe, who learned from the late Josam Nyamukuvhengu, does use heat to pound very thick pieces of metal. He prefers using the tough springs from a jack hammer. I have not witnessed his technique in making the keys, although I do recall a trip to Mbare Musika to obtain the metal. It seems astonishing how that object could be re-birthed into the very thin and precise keys of hera mbira. This approach of sourcing quality material allows Kamwaza to create strong keys that can be pounded thin, which ring out with hera’s characteristic bright overtones.

Sekuru Efraim Masarakufa shows us what type of wire he uses to make keys for madhebhe (and asks those visiting him to bring more of the same!)

An enticing theme of the exhibit focused on the sacred power of ironwork and how African blacksmiths create “objects that mediate between humanity and divine agency” (Roberts & Berns 2018, 77). One interpretive sign pointed to the inherent material/sonic qualities of iron as divine:

“The sounds of iron, by virtue of the spiritual and supernatural potencies attributed to the metal itself, are sometimes equated with voices from ancestral realms. […] [S]onorous iron instruments contribute to more than just an evening’s entertainment- they often serve as vehicles linking the forge to the community, to ancestors, and to divinity itself.”

One can’t help but see how mbira relates to these narratives of sacred sounds that connect people to ancestors and the divine based on their role in traditional religious ceremonies. What about precolonial evidence of ironwork related to mbira in particular?

Early evidence that points towards the presence and production of mbira have been found at archeological sites at Great Zimbabwe. For instance, in their 2016 publication, Bandama et al. include findings of an mbira key from a midden in the Hill Complex at Great Zimbabwe. 

The famed Njanja blacksmiths were located a bit further North of Great Zimbabwe, around present-day Chikomba District (Chirikure 2006). Michael Bourdillon highlights the craftsmanship of the Njanja based on evidence of precolonial trade networks around Southeastern Africa. He writes:

“Of more interest, perhaps, was a group of enterprising iron workers, the Njanja, who smelted the high class ore from Wedza Mountain and traded their products widely in Shona country. Their superior techniques of smelting and working iron produced high quality goods which were valued among surrounding peoples. Neighbouring peoples preferred Njanja hoes to the more local products of inferior iron. Especially prized were Njanja mbira, musical instruments comprising perhaps thirty finely tuned iron reeds set on a resonant wooden base and requiring good quality metal and skilled workmanship. The Njanja traded their iron products for cattle and other livestock in areas a couple of hundred kilometres from their home. Their wealth from trade allowed expert smelters and smiths to gather growing communities of apprentices and dependants, who in turn could perform the communal labour necessary for smelting on a large scale” (Bourdillon 1987, 13).

Further still to the North, in areas governed by the Mutapa state, there are early accounts of mbira used in the courts of the Munhumutapa (the title of kings of the Mutapa state). 

In 1586, for instance, a Portuguese missionary named Father João de Santos described a mbira with nine keys (likely a kind of karimba) that was played in the Zambezi valley and compares it to the Chopi timbila:

“Thus the iron rods being shaken and the blows resounding above the hollow of the bowl, after the fashion of a jew's harp, they produce altogether a sweet and gentle harmony of accordant sounds. This instrument is much more musical than that made of gourds, but it is not so loud, and is generally played in the king's palace, for it is very soft and makes but little noise” (Theal 1901, 203).

Father João de Santos worked in the Mutapa state from 1585-1595 (Theal 1901, 275-277 from Pikirayi 2009) and included other descriptions of court music in his writings. There were a number of Mutapa royal capitals, or courts, over the life of the state, including trading centers like Baranda near present-day Mt. Darwin, for instance (Chirikure et al. 2017, 172). 

What mbira were played in these courts and what function did they have? Certainly, mbira players were more than entertainment. I’ve heard mbira described as a kind of “cell phone to the ancestors,” or perhaps a “sacred telephone,” of sorts because they can be used as a means to communicate with ancestral (and other kinds of) spirits, especially in conjunction with spirit mediums. Considering that the Munhumutapa was not only a political and economic leader but a “religious leader whose ancestors were important for the well-being of the state” (Chirikure et al. 2017, 171), we might assume that the sacred technology of mbira contributed to this religious function at the royal courts. 

There were most likely more than one kind of mbira played in the courts of the Mutapa state. This is in part because they were situated in various locations around what is now the borderlands of Zimbabwe and Mozambique, an area with a high concentration of mbira diversity. Still, it is interesting to note the geographical overlap between the Mutapa state and areas where matepe/hera/madhebhe are currently and historically played. Matepe player Kuda Nyaruwabvu speculates that the linkages in repertoire between these regional traditions can be attributed to lasting influences of the Mutapa state. If this is the case, we might think about how these kinds of mbira that are now seen as geographically and culturally peripheral in Zimbabwe may have once been sacred technologies of the royal courts. 

With all of these things going through my head as I walked through the exhibit, I couldn’t help but take photos of every item and placard - for my own memory, yes, but also to send to Crispen Zonke over WhatsApp so he could show Sekuru Matomati (his father). My excitement was subdued by voices from the archival meanies, wondering why these items - likely derived from museum and private collections - were in Los Angeles and headed for the East coast U.S. and Europe, rather than on display in locations in Africa where they originated. No doubt that these issues were brought up in the making of the exhibit, but I wonder why such essential conversations were not more visible in the display itself.

References Cited

Bandama, F, Moffett, A. J, Thondhlana, T. P, and Chirikure, S. 2016. “The Production, Distribution and Consumption of Metals and Alloys at Great Zimbabwe.” Archaeometry 58 (S1).

Bourdillon, Michael. 1987. The Shona Peoples: An Ethnography of the Contemporary Shona, with Special Reference to Their Religion. Mambo.

Chirikure, Shadreck, Thomas Panganayi Thondhlana, Marcos Martinón-Torres, & Thilo Rehren. 2017. “The Mutapa and the Portuguese.” In Archives, Objects, Places and Landscapes. Langaa RPCIG: 169-195.

Mavhunga, C. 2014. Transient workspaces: Technologies of everyday innovation in Zimbabwe (Mobility studies). Cambridge, Massachusetts: The MIT Press.

Mavhunga, C. 2017. What do science, technology, and innovation mean from Africa? Cambridge, Massachusetts: The MIT Press.

Pikirayi, Innocent. 2004. “Munhumutapa.” Encyclopedia of African History, edited by Kevin Shillington, Taylor & Francis Group: 1056-1058.

Pikirayi, Innocent. 2009. "Palaces, Feiras and Prazos: An Historical Archaeological Perspective of African-Portuguese Contact in Northern Zimbabwe." The African Archaeological Review 26(3): 163-85.

Roberts, Allen F, and Berns, Marla C. 2018. "Striking Iron: The Art of African Blacksmiths." African Arts 51 (1): 66-85.

Roberts, A., Joyce, Tom, Berns, Marla, Dewey, William Joseph, Drewal, Henry John, Goucher, Candice Lee, et al. Fowler Museum at UCLA, issuing body, host institution. (2019). Striking iron: The art of African blacksmiths. Los Angeles, California: Fowler Museum at UCLA.

Theal, George. 1901. Records of South-Eastern Africa. Vol. 7, Capetown: C. Struick.