Makonde face tattoos: Vanishing tradition with tourism potential

But with globalisation, urbanisation, and intermarriage reshaping societies, many such practices have faded.

Once-vibrant traditions have been dismissed as outdated, primitive, or incompatible with modern life, leaving only traces among older generations.

One of the most striking examples is the Makonde people, found largely in Tanzania’s Mtwara and Lindi regions, Mozambique’s Cabo Delgado, and to a lesser extent in Kenya’s Kilifi and Kwale counties.

For centuries, the Makonde were renowned for their distinctive facial tattoos, known locally as dinembo. The cuts and patterns not only distinguished them from other tribes but also carried profound social and spiritual meaning.

Today, in the streets of Mtwara or Lindi, few signs of this practice remain. Only elderly men and women, often in their sixties or older and living in remote villages, still bear the markings. For younger generations, dinembo is little more than a memory.

Although the Makonde tradition is fading, other communities have managed to preserve it and even commercialise similar customs.

In New Zealand, the Māori continue to proudly wear tā moko, sacred tattoos that have become central to cultural identity. Rather than symbols of shame, they are celebrated as marks of pride, drawing admiration from outsiders. Cultural centres offer visitors opportunities to learn about tā moko, attend performances, and experience Māori traditions.

In North America, several Native American groups, including the Apache, Sioux, and Miwok, have revived tattooing as part of a broader cultural renaissance.

Cultural hubs have been established where visitors can learn the spiritual meanings of tattoos, buy replica designs, and hear oral histories.

Such examples highlight what might have been possible, and could still be possible, for the Makonde.

The Makonde tattooing process was both meticulous and painful. Skilled artists, usually men, used sharpened tools to pierce the skin in elaborate patterns.

The motifs included zigzags, chevrons, and animal figures, each carrying symbolic meaning linked to rites of passage, marriage, or spiritual protection.

For boys, tattoos marked the transition into adulthood, testing their courage. Those unable to withstand the pain bore incomplete tattoos, symbols of weakness that lasted a lifetime.

For girls, tattoos prepared them for marriage; their symmetrical facial patterns were intended to beautify and attract suitors.

Makonde women also wore labrets, lip plugs, and a vertical piercing through the upper lip, close to the nose. Though painful, these were considered essential markers of maturity and readiness for family life.

The practice was preserved across generations, with tattooists passing down skills through long apprenticeships. Yet with time, this once-sacred art has nearly vanished.

The fading of dinembo reflects broader cultural shifts. As Makonde communities migrated to Dar es Salaam and other towns, their tattoos, once symbols of pride, became stigmatised. Many urban Tanzanians viewed them as backward, prompting parents to abandon the practice for their children.

Tattoos also created barriers to employment. Makonde men and women often found themselves restricted to night guarding or wood carving, reinforcing stereotypes that tattooed individuals could not be taken seriously in professional settings.

Back in Mtwara and Lindi, urbanisation, inter-tribal marriages, and the spread of Christianity and Islam further hastened the decline.

Some historians argue the practice was strongest during the slave trade, when tattoos made the Makonde less desirable to slave raiders.

Elders, however, insist that dinembo had deeper spiritual significance, connecting individuals to ancestors and forming part of Makonde identity itself.

The decline raises important questions. Had the Makonde embraced dinembo more openly, could it have become a source of cultural pride and tourism, as seen with the Maasai of East Africa and the Māori of New Zealand?

The Maasai are globally recognised for their beadwork, warrior dances, and attire. Their readiness to share culture has made them synonymous with East African identity, boosting national branding and community income.

Similarly, the Māori have transformed tā moko into a thriving cultural attraction, balancing respect for tradition with tourism.

Visitors can watch tattooing demonstrations, listen to oral histories, and join cultural ceremonies, all experiences that generate significant revenue while reinforcing Māori pride.

Both cases demonstrate that cultural preservation and tourism can coexist, provided respect and community control are maintained.

Cultural tourism is among the fastest-growing segments of the global industry. Travellers increasingly seek authentic experiences, from yoga retreats in India to culinary tours in Thailand.

For Mtwara and Lindi, historically overshadowed by Zanzibar, Arusha, and Serengeti, dinembo could provide a unique selling point.

Beyond beaches and cashew plantations, Makonde heritage offers a rare glimpse into a vanishing world.

The challenge lies in reviving the tradition responsibly. Experts argue that any attempt should prioritise education and preservation over commodification.

Instead of reviving painful tattooing, cultural centres could showcase oral histories, photographs, carvings, and digital recreations of dinembo. Visitors could experience temporary tattoos, storytelling workshops, and cultural exhibitions without trivialising sacred practices.

The risk, as seen elsewhere, is exploitation, reducing sacred traditions to entertainment. To prevent this, initiatives must be community-led, with Makonde people deciding which aspects of their heritage to share.

One proposal is a Makonde Cultural Heritage Centre in Mtwara, featuring exhibitions on dinembo, wood carving, and oral traditions. Such a centre could attract researchers, artists, and tourists while also educating young Makonde about their roots.

Performances, craft markets, and storytelling sessions could provide income while restoring pride in Makonde identity.

Similar models in New Zealand and the United States have created jobs, preserved traditions, and boosted cultural awareness.

At present, Makonde cultural tourism is largely confined to the sale of wood carvings, particularly in Dar es Salaam and Arusha. Renowned for their intricate detail and abstract style, the carvings remain the most visible representation of Makonde creativity.

Yet deliberate investment could broaden this cultural brand. Exhibitions, documentation, and festivals could keep alive the story of dinembo, even if the tattoos themselves are no longer practised. The success of such initiatives depends on the Makonde reclaiming ownership of their narrative.

Outsiders cannot dictate how sacred traditions should be represented. What matters is that the community presents its story in ways that preserve dignity while allowing the world to learn.

Handled wisely, dinembo could once again become a source of pride, not shame, and in doing so, draw overdue attention to southern Tanzania’s cultural and tourism potential.ENDS