The Mandingas. Carnival in Mindelo. Cabo Verde. Spring 2025

Celer'a bô bai via rebêre bôte
Escurim indicá
Rumo pa ponta de fi
Cesária Évora, Ponta de Fi

Just a short walk from the bustling center of Mindelo lies a neighborhood called Ribeira Bote. Its name derives from the riverside mini-shipyards where master carpenters once built boats and dinghies of various sizes and shapes. Though the shipyards have faded into memory, the echoes of craftsmanship remain: carpenters now make furniture in open-air workshops, putting their creations to dry in the sunlit streets like impromptu showrooms. This display stands in stark contrast to the surrounding tin-roofed houses, leaving uninvited visitors like us feeling unsettled. Tourists don't enter this neighborhood except with guided tours. Unaccompanied visitors attract curious glances that oscillate between surprise, incomprehension, and suspicion. "Where's the Cesária Évora mural?" we asked a man standing on his porch, only to be met with puzzled silence. People don't wander these streets looking for urban art. Here, daily life unfolds unscripted: a woman emerges from a windowless shack to light a cooking fire. A handwritten sign on the wall above her reads, "Chicken broth for sale. 70 escudos."

It was from here that on June 7, 1934, a large group of men, women and children marched toward the city center, waving a black cloth with the word HUNGER written on it. Since 1932, the island of São Vicente had been going through terrible times. The companies kept reducing the hours and the workers spent days without being paid. The march had started near the workshop of Nhô Ambrôze, a talkative and resourceful carpenter with some prestige among his neighbors. He probably convinced them that it was time to take to the streets to let the authorities know that they were suffering all kinds of hardships due to lack of work. The people, tired and hungry, demonstrated in front of the city hall and broke into the customs warehouses where food was stored. An endless line of women, men and children moved through the streets carrying sacks, cans and other items taken from the customs. The demonstration resulted in one death, two injuries, arrests and sentences for the main participants to be served on the islands of Boa Vista and Sal, and the deportation of Nhô Ambrôze to Angola. The Portuguese colonial administration imposed a 3% ad valorem tax on all goods imported by companies in São Vicente to punish them for showing solidarity with the people.

Although the uprising didn't achieve the desired results, it took on a symbolic importance for the community. Nhô Ambrôze, the leader of the revolt, became a local hero. His legacy was immortalized in a poem written two decades later, in which he was honored with the title of captain. That's why the main artery of Ribeira Bote, formerly called Ponta de Fim, is now known as Avenida Capitão Ambrosio. And it is from here that another procession starts every carnival season—the Mandingas Parade. The Mandinga tradition in Cabo Verde comes from the Mandinka people, who are part of the larger Mandé ethnic group of West Africa. This cultural heritage was brought to Cabo Verde by the transatlantic slave trade. During Carnival, the Mandinga fantasy allows participants to temporarily reinvent a group identity and pay homage to their African roots. It also fosters a playful encounter between different social groups in opposition to the established economic and political system.

During this unique march, participants transform into Mandinga warriors by covering their bodies with black oil and tar paint, donning costumes and wielding symbolic weapons. They parade through the streets of Mindelo performing ecstatic dances to the beat of energetic drums. Mandinga is a term of African origin meaning any kind of witchcraft. The Mandingas fill the city with a captivating energy and the magical power of ancient rituals. Disguised by masks, participants immerse themselves in a world of freedom, defying socially acceptable behavior. For an outsider like me, joining the Mandingas, even for a short time, was an intense experience—marked by playful taunts, black paint smears, and chaotic interactions—but it was profoundly liberating.