Masks and Meaning: Gule Wamkulu’s Cultural Crossroads

Explores the tension between cultural preservation and commercialization in Zimbabwe’s Gule Wamkulu festival (image source)

The annual Gule Wamkulu fiesta is poised to kick off next week in central Zimbabwe, drawing thousands of dancers, drummers, and spectators to a showcase of Chewa spiritual mask dance heritage. Celebrated for its UNESCO-recognized rituals, the festival blends ancestral veneration with vibrant pageantry. Yet as preparations near, tensions are rising over authenticity, commercialization, and political patronage threatening to reshape this centuries-old tradition.

Gule Wamkulu, literally “the great dance,” originated among the Chewa people of eastern Zimbabwe and Malawi. Costumed performers embody ancestral spirits, moving in trance-like procession to the rhythm of ngoma drums. Organizers say the event preserves intangible cultural heritage and drives rural tourism, injecting an estimated $1.2 million into host communities annually.

But not everyone agrees the benefits are shared equitably. Village elders in the Chikomba district claim provincial authorities have diverted funds toward urban infrastructure and VIP hospitality, leaving grassroots co-operatives to cover accommodation, catering, and security out of pocket. “We pay for tents and firewood, yet we see the best stalls in Harare,” said headman Joseph Mumba, whose community troupe has performed for three generations.

Dr. Thandiwe Chinhara, a cultural anthropologist at the University of Zimbabwe, warns that unchecked commercialization risks diluting the festival’s spiritual core. “When sponsors dictate costuming and scheduling, the dance becomes a commodity rather than a conduit for ancestral dialogue,” she said. Chinhara advocates for a cooperative governance model that gives local custodians—chiefs, spirit mediums, and elders—veto power over branding and programming decisions.

Meanwhile, heritage lawyer Patrick Zibu argues that government involvement must be transparent. “Public funding requires open audits, especially with international donors looking to support cultural resilience. Ambiguity breeds mistrust and potential exploitation.” At last week’s rehearsal in Zvimba, young performer Nyasha Moyo donned an elaborate mask fashioned from ostrich feathers. She marveled at the craftsmanship but lamented new constraints. “We must submit costume designs two months in advance for ‘security checks,’” she said. “It feels like they’re policing our spirits.” Local medium Anna Chikore echoed the sentiment: “Our ancestors don’t abide by deadlines.”

Parents also worry about safety. In 2023, a collapse of temporary bleachers injured dozens, prompting civil society groups to call for stricter building codes and crowd-management plans. Event organizers insist they have secured municipal permits and upgraded first-aid facilities, but details remain unpublished.

As Gule Wamkulu prepares to open its gates, Zimbabwe faces a pivotal choice: preserve the authenticity of a living tradition or pivot toward mass-market entertainment. The stakeholders—elders, artists, government, and sponsors—must reconcile competing interests if this ceremony is to endure as a genuine expression of collective memory. Only by addressing funding disparities, enhancing local governance, and upholding safety standards can the festival avoid becoming another casualty of modern pressures. Otherwise, the masks may conceal more than spirits—they might hide the erosion of a cultural legacy.