The Monuments of Aksum. Edited and Annotated by D: # Cambridge University Press
The Monuments of Aksum. Edited and Annotated by D: # Cambridge University Press
REVIEWS
AKSUM
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text – accompanied by c. pages of (albeit very useful) black and white in-text
illustrations – there is no room for the fuller description, or wider discussion,
which are not only necessary to present these subjects adequately, but which would
have been an advantage in certain chapters given the author’s wide experience in
general African prehistory, and in the recent excavation work at Aksum itself.
The book thus avoids the challenges which interpretations and reinterpretations
of certain issues might present. Where it touches briefly on the position of the
Falasha in Ethiopia, for example, the book repeats a point of view which takes none
of the intensive recent research, with its very different results, into account. In
discussion about tradition and continuity, too, the presentation is far too brief to
be able to describe even the essential aspects (see, for example, Grierson and
Munro-Hay, The Ark of the Covenant, for an attempt to place the Kebra Nagast
and the Ark traditions in their proper perspective). On the other hand, the work
is not written to appeal to a popular audience either, being couched in the rather
arid language of an academic work. Falling as it does between two categories, and
published before the full analysis of all the newly discovered material from
Phillipson’s excavations that would inevitably have enhanced its contribution, the
book’s value is inevitably somewhat diminished. It will nevertheless be en-
couraging to see another book on Ethiopian history in the British Museum
bookshop, which until now has limited itself solely to African Zion.
. .
AFRICAN CHRISTIANITY
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particular illustrations, examples, vignettes. Isichei displays an amazing breadth.
Many individual narratives are particularly well done ; for example, those dealing
with Uganda, Sierra Leone, Ethiopia, the Aladura, Braide and Harris. One is
constantly amazed by her command of material, and impressed by the way she can
refer to her own previous works on so many topics (not just modern Nigeria, but
early North African theologians). In many cases she reveals in a footnote which
authority she is primarily dependent on at any particular stage. Her knowledge of
Catholic Christianity, indeed her grasp of the intricacies of Catholic religious
orders, is as strong as you would expect, but other sectors do not suffer by
comparison ; her treatment of various faith missions and independent churches is
equally assured. She is very sure-footed in the mind-boggling complexity of the
Democratic Republic of the Congo (formerly Zaire). She feels free to approve of
or criticise allcomers. Among those criticised are Idowu and Mbiti for their
‘ distorting Christian spectacles ’ (p. ), Lavigerie for his lack of respect for ‘ the
Other ’ (p. ), Vincent Donovan’s almost cult book on inculturation, Christianity
Rediscovered, for its paternalism (p. ), Blyden for his ‘ largely misdirected ’ great
energies (p. ) and Uganda’s balokole movement for, among other things, its
‘ fissiparous tendency ’ (p. ).
As in any book of this size and scope, there are emphases with which one could
disagree. The author was writing too soon after the genocide in Rwanda to have the
perspective entirely right. The oriental Orthodox churches which Isichei in
chapter calls ‘ monophysite ’ much prefer a more neutral term like ‘ pre-
Chalcedonian ’. Falwell, though a televangelist, belongs to another stream of
Christianity than the faith gospel. And it is doubtful whether by any mode of
reckoning the Jehovah’s Witnesses are the largest church in Zambia today (p. ).
There are some minor factual errors : the last book of the New Testament is
Revelation, not Revelations ; Smith’s UDI was not (p. ) ; the
originator of the faith gospel is Hagin, not Hagan (p. ). There are editorial
lapses too : there are six references on p. which refer to no text. Passing
references like those to ‘ Zik ’, ‘ the Magnificat ’, a ‘ Prefect Apostolic ’ presume
considerable background, and might have done with some explanatory comment in
a general history. The method of referring to numbers (‘ thousand ’) seems
somewhat odd. A bibliography and more comprehensive index added to the
excellent maps might have made the book’s riches more readily accessible. But
overall, this is a sympathetic (if ultimately rather sombre), insider’s treatment,
containing a mine of information.
Port Cities and Intruders : The Swahili Coast, India and Portugal in the Early
Modern Era. By M N. P. Baltimore and London : The Johns
Hopkins University Press, . Pp. xj. £ ( ---).
The introduction announces this book as an attempt to present the history of the
East African coast in the Portuguese period as a ‘ world-history ’, by which Pearson
means a study which transcends national boundaries and tries to understand
regional themes and larger systems. The author, whose knowledge of East Africa
is derived very largely from secondary sources, promises insights gained from his
work on Indian history. It is a good idea, but a disappointing book. Pearson tells
us that there was a lot of commerce along the coast ; that in the north (on the coast
of modern Kenya) this commerce had little effect beyond the coast, while in the
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south the gold of the Zimbabwe plateau encouraged much wider commercial
networks and more contact between coast and interior. No surprises there. His
comparisons with India reveal that the situation was very different there, with a
great deal more political and social continuity between coast and interior – but tells
us no more than that.
One suspects that Pearson’s project was subverted by an unfortunate cir-
cumstance. The recent historiography of the East African coast, and especially the
work of archaeologists, has urged very insistently the view that the Swahili
settlements of the coast were ‘ indigenous’. Their inhabitants were Africans, not
Middle Eastern settlers ; their economies were local, not orientated to overseas
trade. Pearson’s study might by its very nature be assumed to run counter to this
new orthodoxy – since it focuses on the coast as part of a regional system – and the
points of contrast which he raises with the Indian situation do rather suggest the
comparative isolation and distinctness of the Swahili settlements. But Pearson
seems anxious to avoid any direct challenge to the ‘ indigenous’ presentation.
This concern encourages a distinctly circuitous writing style which does little for
clarity and leads to both repetition and contradiction. We never find out what a
‘ port city ’ really was, or how the port cities related to the many other Swahili
settlements of the coast (though we are told that they were the ‘ jewels in the
necklace of the whole coast ’). Pearson tells us (pp. –) that the traders of the East
African coast in were of local origin (how does he know ?) and that the stories
of the exotic origins of ruling groups were pure ideology ; he later suggests that
traders, of foreign origin, provided the rulers of the ‘ port cities ’ (p. ). He mulls
at length over the arguments about the extent of inland trade from the northern
coast before he plucks up courage to say that the port cities of the north coast were
really entrepots, part of a long distance seaborne trade in luxuries between
Mozambique and India (though he has earlier offered rather cryptic reference to
the ‘ neglected ’ importance of a more local trade in foodstuffs and mangrove wood).
Pearson might have got out of this conceptual bind by thinking about the
relationship of ‘ port cities ’ to other settlements on the coast, or through discussion
of the internal social structures of coastal societies ; he might even, dare one say it,
have taken issue with the assumption that to be ‘ African ’ coastal settlements had
to be harmoniously integrated into a particularly local economy. But he does not.
Pearson has read widely, but there are a few uncomfortable errors or gaps in
understanding. T. Hoffman (sic) would be surprised to find himself described as
an ‘ older scholar ’ in a British historiographical tradition which Pearson criticizes ;
reference is made to a caliph in Cairo in ; students of later history will wince
at the reference to ‘ rampant black African leaders ’ and at the passing assertion that
colonial enforcement of a private market in land caused widespread landlessness in
Kenya. While Pearson has absorbed the argument about Swahili culture being
indigenous, his understanding of other aspects of African history seems a little
dated. ‘ Tribesmen ’ lived on the coast ; they were ‘ Bantus ’ and ricocheted around
as discrete groups.
There is information here, and since this is (I think) the only book-length study
of the Portuguese period on the coast since Strandes’ Portuguese Period (which,
curiously, is not referred to here) Pearson’s work does serve a purpose. But it is
unfortunate that it really says so little. Pearson tells us nothing about the nature of
East African coastal society in , and the central question of Portuguese
interaction with this society is relegated to a couple of pages. Portuguese
enagement with coastal political structures receive even shorter shrift, with brief
references to the establishment of ‘ puppet ’ rulers. The theoretical digressions – on
definitions of ‘ hinterland ’ and on Wallerstein’s idea of ‘ world-systems ’ – raise
useful issues but do not really get very far. But there is some unintended humour :
Pearson’s discussion of the alleged difficulties of crossing the arid ‘ nyika ’ of Kenya
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concludes with the knockout argument ‘ … as I have traveled by train from Nairobi
to Mombasa I have found myself wondering what all the fuss was about ’. Quite.
G E N E R A T I O N A L H I S T O R I ES
Conflict, Age and Power in North East Africa : Age Systems in Transition. Edited by
E K S S. Oxford : James Currey ; Nairobi : East
African Educational Publishing ; Kampala : Fountain Publishers ; Athens : Ohio
University Press, . Pp. xivj. £ ( ---) ; £.,
paperback ( ---).
This edited collection consists of papers from the third symposium on north-
eastern African herders organized by the National Museum of Ethnology in
Osaka." The introduction by Kurimoto and Simonse sets out an original approach
to the interpretation of age-sets. Criticizing earlier analyses of age-sets, focused on
their integrative function in providing a social identity and structure of authority
that cut across allegiances based on kinship, the editors stress instead their role as
‘ arenas ’ of conflict between mutually antagonistic groups – senior and junior men,
men and women or different territorial or ethnic groups. Rather than seeing age-
sets as mechanisms to distribute wealth, women and power in a hierarchical and
complementary fashion, then, they see them as vehicles by which opposed groups
contest power with one another and constitute themselves in the process.
Further, the editors see age-sets as regional systems that transcend individual
ethnic, linguistic and cultural groups, allowing them to interact with one another
in accord with a common set of rules. They identify five such regional complexes,
each of which is discussed in the studies that follow : the monyomiji group in the
southern Sudan, the Karimojong or asapan system in northern Uganda, the gada
complex among Oromo peoples of Ethiopia and Kenya and the Maasai and
Kalenjin systems of Kenya and Tanzania. Within these regional systems, age-set
institutions provide a common arena in which different ethnic groups establish
themselves and their identity by means of organized violence.
The individual papers that follow each focus on a particular set of antagonisms,
starting with age. Whereas previous studies tended to focus on the complementary
distribution of social, economic and ritual roles, Simonse, Spencer, Tornay and
Sato all focus on ways in which social relations between seniors and juniors are also
antagonistic. Tension between the two groups mounts as juniors seek to challenge
the wealth and power of elders and elders try to maintain their economic and ritual
control, until juniors are able to force a breach and be initiated into the ranks of
elders. Thus, as individual age-sets form, mature and advance in status, social
relations alternate between complementary relations and antagonistic ones in an
ongoing historical cycle.
While such alternations frequently cycle around a historical mean, however,
more forceful alternations can lead to permanent shifts in power between elders
and juniors. For Lamphear, such shifts were brought about in the nineteenth
century in Maasai and Turkana societies by new prophets and diviners able to
displace the elders, exert centralized authority over the warriors and direct the
military expansion of both societies. Conversely, Nagashima demonstrates how
age-sets declined in Iteso in the twentieth century in the face of alternative means
" Papers from the earlier two symposia have previously been published in Katsuyoshi
Fukui and David Turton (eds.), Warfare among East African Herders () and
Katsuyoshi Fukui and John Markakis (eds.), Ethnicity and Conflict in the Horn of Africa
().
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of acquiring wealth and power through cash-crop production, employment and
education, while Komma shows how they became transformed in Kipsigis society
with enrollment in the King’s African Rifles and rising Kalenjin ethnicity in
reaction to Kikuyu settlement in the Rift Valley.
Shifting the focus from age to ethnicity, Kurimoto and Schlee each show how
particular age-set institutions spread across linguistic and ethnic boundaries to
become regional meta-systems in which shared codes of behavior resonated with
one another to make meaningful interaction among different ethnic groups
possible. As such institutions became synchronized with one another, interethnic
violence became a function of internal contests for power, rippling across whole
regions in repetitive cycles of organized violence. Interestingly, Simonse dem-
onstrates elsewhere how such periodic cycles continue to influence the ebb and
flow of civil war in the southern Sudan.
The shift in these studies from an interpretation based on internal harmony to
one based on struggles for power played out on a regional level provides a welcome
dynamic view, but most of the studies are more structural or processual than
historical. One also tends to loose sight of the fact, noted by Simonse and Spencer,
that such struggles are invariably over access to the very resources that normally
constitute hierarchical relations and involve a significant transformation of ir-
repressible youth into responsible elders in the process. After all, it is precisely the
control of wealth, women and power that juniors seek to establish and then to
exercise and keep from others after attaining elderhood themselves. And the roles
of women in these struggles are barely touched upon, aside from a single brief
study by Kawai.
Africa’s Ogun : Old World and New. Edited by S T. B. Bloomington
and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, . nd, expanded ed. Pp.
xxij. £. ( ---) ; £., paperback ( ---
).
The second, expanded, edition of Africa’s Ogun adds five new chapters to the ten
already existing in the first edition. A new introduction to the second edition
by Sandra T. Barnes completes the new material in this publication. Already in
, Africa’s Ogun was an innovative book in its attempt to analyse and
conceptualise the diversity of expressions and cultural referents associated with the
West African orisha Ogun, popularly known in West Africa as the deity of iron,
warfare and hunting. As the title suggests, the domain of study is not limited to the
West African contexts where Ogun was nurtured, but it includes the New World,
where African slaves and their descendants perpetuated his worship. In the context
of African and Afro-American religious studies, the thematic focus on a single
deity as a strategy to address wider theoretical issues is not unique, but it is quite
rare. This methodological approach provides a suitable framework to reveal the
dynamics of transformation and the creative adaptive nature of West African
religious concepts and practices in different cultural contexts.
As John Peel warns in this volume, Ogun can neither be essentialised nor
considered in isolation. Depending on the historical moment and geographical
area, Ogun, the civilizer-destroyer, the opener of the path, can develop one or
several of his various aspects, and in any case Ogun is always inserted, whether in
religion, art or popular culture, within a complex dynamic system of interrelations.
Hence, in this publication, Ogun is treated from a multiplicity of perspectives
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corresponding to the interests and disciplines of the various contributors to this
collection. Their studies range from historical contextualization, to the analysis of
sacred texts, the performative aspects of ritual or the elaboration of Ogun’s
representations in folklore, fine arts or literature. This interdisciplinary collection
constitutes a rich and valuable source of ethnographic data, but perhaps the
underlying theme is the continuous process of recreation and reinterpretation ‘ that
shapes the ways people experience, define and construct the sacred aspects of
existence, represent them in human life and make them manifest in religious
practice ’ (p. xiv).
The first edition of Africa’s Ogun provided a historical perspective to Ogun’s
spread and transformations, which is enriched in this new edition by a new chapter
by John Peel. Based on a comparative analysis of missionary data from the second
half of the nineteenth century, Peel shows how Ogun’s pre-colonial manifestations
varied significantly from place to place in Yorubaland. This well-documented
evidence demonstrates that the variability in form and meaning present in
contemporary manifestations of Ogun is the result of a long historical process, a
factor which should always be taken into account when seeking to understand
present realities.
Compared with the first edition, this second edition places more emphasis on the
processes of transformation experienced by Ogun in the New World. The dialectic
between continuity and innovation of Afro-American culture in relation to African
sources, which is a central theme of Afro-American studies, is treated in depth by
showing and analysing the great variability of cultural expressions emerging in
different geographical areas. Chapters in the first edition by Ortiz and M. Drewal
on Ogun in Brazil, and by McCarthy Brown on Ogun in Haiti, are complemented
by new ones. H. J. Drewal and John Mason deal with aspects of Ogun in relation
to scarification and body-painting rituals in Yorubaland, Cuba and North
America. Mason, who is a priest of the Afro-Cuban Santeria in Brooklyn, writes
in another chapter about the historical and contemporary meanings of Ogun in the
Lucumi tradition which exists in Brooklyn. Don Cosentino writes about another
insider-intellectual who lives in Los Angeles, the Puerto Rican Ysamur Flores, and
analyses his idiosyncratic interpretation of Ogun. He also addresses the process of
Catholic ‘ syncretism ’ of Haitian Vodou and Ogun’s presence in Soyinka’s
literature. Philip Sher discusses how in Trinidad and Tobago the African tradition
of the orichas is constantly being negotiated according to the interests and
ideologies of different groups in what could be called the politics of heritage.
The emphasis in this book on Ogun in the New World is not fortuitous ; it
responds to the increasing awareness of the trans-Atlantic dimension of West
African culture, and the importance that the Diaspora plays in the articulation of
a wider ‘ Black Atlantic World ’. It also serves to address theoretical concepts like
globalisation, pastiche or hybridity in relation to contemporary religious practice.
This stress on the American manifestations of Ogun suggests the contemporary
vitality of an ancient Yoruba deity who through intricate historical processes of
cultural blending has transcended boundaries of ethnicity, race and class to become
a trans-cultural and multi-dimensional symbol of human projections.
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THE ETHIOPIAN STATE
The Evolution of Ethiopian Absolutism : The Genesis and the Making of the Fiscal
Military State, –. (Studia Historica Uppsaliensia ) By T
T. Uppsala : Uppsala University, . Pp. . SEK ( --
-).
German and Scandinavian universities have developed the tradition of in-
stantaneous publication of PhD theses. This has both advantages and disadvan-
tages. The disadvantage is that writers do not have the opportunity to revise and
polish before they go public. The advantage is that it saves many a valuable thesis
from being consigned to obscure corners of library shelves, which is the fate of
many a thesis in other universities.
The publication of Tsegaye Tegenu’s PhD thesis clearly proves the latter point.
For it is a work of painstaking research which deserves the attention of all those
engaged in the study of the economic basis of the Ethiopian state. The author sets
out ‘ to identify and explain the resource base of the Ethiopian state during its
process of organising into a centralised power in the period to ’, and he
succeeds considerably in this respect by marshalling a vast array of Ethiopian and
foreign sources. The exhaustive use of that veritable gold mine of information on
Ethiopian land and taxation, Zekra Nagar (by the celebrated compiler, Blattengeta
Mahtama-Sellase Walda-Masqal), stands out as perhaps the single outstanding
methodological contribution of the work.
The author begins his analysis with a survey of the theories and perceptions of
absolutism, preferring Perry Anderson’s theory of the absolutist state for ‘ his
structural approach and his association of absolutism with the transition from
feudal to capitalist mode of production ’. In applying this theory to the Ethiopian
situation, he departs from earlier works by identifying two phases : the ‘ fiscal
military state ’ (–) and the ‘ enlightened absolutist state ’ (–). He
traces the origins of the first phase to the early eighteenth century with the
emergence of the Shawan state (in south-central Ethiopia), which had the requisite
material conditions (including private land ownership system) to address the
prevalent political crisis of the sixteenth century. Thus the Shawan Gabar
Madarya system came to replace the Amisho Rim system of Gondar and the Rist
Gult system of the medieval period.
In the subsequent chapters, the author focuses on the crucial period of
– and discusses in considerable detail : the evolution of a standardised
system of taxation, more particularly the introduction of qalad (land measurement)
and asrat (tithe) ; the size of government revenue ; the structure and size of the
military ; the nature of government expenditure ; and what the author terms
‘ government economic reforms ’. The book ends with a fleeting consideration of
issues of ‘ economic dynamism ’, namely, trade and urbanisation, aristocratic
patrimony and ideas of development.
The subject dealt with in the book is vast in scope and intractable in nature. The
author is to be commended for addressing the issues with remarkable conscien-
tiousness and a reasonable degree of competence. Moreover, the work is under-
pinned by a wide reading on the theory and historiography of the subject.
Understandably in a work of such complex nature, a number of problems arise. To
begin with, the idea of pushing the organisation of centralised power to the
eighteenth century seems far-fetched, just as the importance attached to the year
seems somewhat over-blown. Nor do the ‘ absolutist ’ attributes of the
Ethiopian state from – emerge so clearly ; more accurately, the author
prefers instead to characterise it consistently as ‘ the fiscal military state ’. While the
author makes a brave effort (pp. –) to analyse the vast literature on that period,
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he does not do justice to the complexity of the views contained in all those works.
For instance, it is not true that all the works focused merely ‘ on understanding the
motives and meanings of individual actions and events ’ (p. ).
Emperor Tewodros’s famous motto of ‘ hagar bage ’ revolved around land, and
not so much on governorship ; at any rate, Tewodros did not abolish hereditary
governorship, as witnessed in his policy towards Shawa and Tegre. The author’s
explanation for Menilek’s establishment of ministries, while original (because it is
related to the evolution of fiscal and military administration), strikes one at the
same time as rather benign. Perhaps the most ambitious undertaking in the work
has been the attempt to determine the size of government revenue and that of the
army. Figures have been thrown out so capriciously in the literature that it is
perilous to base one’s computation on them. Valuable as it is, Zekra Nagar is not
always reliable in this regard, as the figures are invariably not complete. Recourse
to the prolific Pankhurst is no solution, either, in as much as he has not always
shown selectivity and rigour in his use of those figures. The concept of ‘ economic
reform ’ to describe the measures taken mostly by Menilek to consolidate the ‘ fiscal
military state ’ is also misleading, the more so as the author himself assures us that,
for instance, ‘ The reforms in agriculture were not of the kind which would
encourage an increase in surplus nor release the labour tied to the land ’ (p. ).
Nevertheless, these shortcomings do not minimise the importance of the work
under review. The author has tackled a difficult topic with considerable expertise
and broadened our perception of it – and hence of Ethiopian history – con-
siderably.
G O N J A H I S T O R I O G R A P HY
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it. Tomlinson’s treatise was, and probably still is, the best available ‘ A to Z ’ for
Gonja.
The controversial item in this book is J. A. Braimah’s ‘ A history of the Gonja
state ’. Braimah, once Nkrumah’s Minister of Communications and Works,
returned from the modern to the traditional sector, and died in as
Yagbumwura, Paramount Chief of Gonja. He was a prolific writer, and some
fifteen years ago I accepted an invitation from Shinnie to edit, with Braimah’s
agreement, a selection of his works. As Shinnie notes in the introduction to History
and Traditions of the Gonja, I subsequently withdrew from this commitment. I did
so with regret – since I had worked closely with Braimah in – but after careful
consideration. The problem was, as I saw it, that Braimah’s views on the origins
and development of the Gonja state were largely shaped by, first, the repertoires
of the Gonja kuntungkurbe and other drummers and, second, various Arabic
chronicles and the like written by Gonja Muslims, of which the earliest are from
the first half of the eighteenth century. Unfortunately his use of both was badly
flawed.
Braimah himself [Gonja Drums, nd. but c. ] produced a mimeographed
corpus of drum recitals in English translations the quality of which is highly
uneven. Esther and Jack Goody have given us a preview of their major work on the
drum texts in Africa, () . I cite from this one particularly alarming
translation in illustration of the problem. The drummers say, Bulimpe nya wulin-
dzi. The Goody translation, which is correct, is, ‘ the lion arises to become chief ’.
The Braimah translation is, ‘ the Vice (star) of the town of Bullom ’. On the basis
of this mistranslation, in several of his works Braimah postulates a link between
Gonja and the Bulom of Sierra Leone.
The Gonja chronicles have now been published, in the Arabic original and
English translation [I. Wilks, N. Levzion and B. Haight, Chronicles from Gonja,
Cambridge University Press, ]. Braimah died before he could consult this
collection, and used instead earlier translations often badly done into English via
Hausa. Some of these will be found in the appendices to Tomlinson’s study. Again,
Braimah could be, and sometimes was, led into serious error by his use of these
corrupt texts. They gave rise, for example, to a monumental confusion between on
the one hand Bighu, the Juula entrepot on the fringes of the Akan forestlands, and
on the other, Segu, the Bambara capital on the Middle Niger.
Working on Braimah’s manuscripts, I came to doubt the wisdom of publishing
even a selection of them. I felt that they were likely to derail, as it were, Gonja
historiography just at a time when carefully edited texts of the drum recitals and
the Arabic chronicles were (to mix metaphors) in the pipeline. I urged, never-
theless, that the whole Braimah corpus should be made available for consultation
in appropriate archival and library collections. To my way of thinking, Braimah
was unfortunate in being in the right place at the wrong time. This said, I should
add that Shinnie has, in my opinion, elected to publish the most scholarly, since
least speculative, of all Braimah’s writings. History and Traditions of the Gonja is
a most useful addition to the growing body of literature on Gonja, and we are in
Shinnie’s debt.
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B O R G U’S ‘ P R O B A B L E P A S T ’
Wasangari und Wangara : Borgu und seine Nachbarn in historischer Perspektive. Bei
R K. Hamburg : Lit, . Pp. . No price given ( --
-).
Although the history of pre-colonial states and societies in the West African
savanna seems to be quite well established, there are still several historically
obscure regions. Such an area is pre-colonial Borgu in today’s western Nigeria and
northern Benin. Whereas the history of Borgu’s neighbours is better documented
and thus easier to access, Borgu has been left on the periphery of historical
scholarship. Richard Kuba’s Wasangari und Wangara fills this gap, in which Borgu
emerges as an important cross-roads between north and south as well as east and
west.
The lack of internal written sources has forced Kuba to undertake a meticulous
search for other sources – the written sources of Borgu’s neighbours, external
sources such as travel reports, colonial reports and oral traditions as well as
archaeological, linguistic and ethnographic evidence. This is also the strength of
Kuba’s research, especially his extensive efforts to collect oral traditions. He has
interviewed individuals from various social strata, including emirs and sarkis,
courtiers, griots and earth priests as well as ordinary people. In chapter one, Kuba
presents a very detailed account and evaluation of his sources as well as
methodological considerations. Here he also discusses previous research on the
topic, giving special credit to the unpublished dissertation of the late Musa Baba
Idriss."
Kuba presents new considerations and interpretations of the political and
religious structures in pre-colonial Borgu. His detailed study of the earth priests
points to the emergence of political structures before the coming of the Wasangari
warrior aristocracy. Thus in chapters two to four, Kuba looks at the internal
processes of social organisation in Borgu and traces the history of a pre-Wasangari
state, Dako. On the basis of linguistic evidence, he rejects the previous hypothesis
of a political influence of the empire of Mali on state formation in (Mande-
speaking) Borgu. Next, Kuba investigates the origins of the Wasangari and their
arrival in Borgu, which he dates at the latest to the first half of the fifteenth century.
He rejects the idea that the Kisra legend was a mere ideological, anti-Islamic
construction. Instead, he associates the legend and the immigration of the
Wasangari with political and social developments in the Central Sudan during the
first half of the second millennium. According to Kuba, the ‘ carriers of the Kisra
legend ’ were a faction of the anti-Islamic Duguwa dynasty of Borno, who were
ousted from power by the Sayfawa dynasty between the thirteenth and fifteenth
century. Arriving in the Borgu states, the Wasangari removed the indigenous local
rulers from their political posts but accepted them as earth priests. He therefore
sees the immigration of the Wasangari as more of an infiltration than an invasion,
and argues that the original identity of the Wasangari was soon blurred due to
intermarriage with the local people.
In chapters five to eight, Kuba investigates the various connections between the
Borgu states and their northern, eastern and southern neighbours. He presents the
region as a centre for the exchange of political, ideological and religious ideas, as
well as a junction of trade routes connecting the empires of the savanna with the
" Musa Baba Idris, ‘ Political and economic relations in the Bariba states : an
introduction to the historical study of a plural society from the traditions of origin to the
colonial period ’, . This thesis was never examined owing to the tragic and untimely
death of the author.
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states in the south. The Wasangari entered Borgu from the north, having
established a joking relationship with the Songhay. However, with the collapse of
Songhay, the old established north–south trade network from Mali\Songhay to the
Yoruba states disintegrated and was replaced by the rising trade network from
Hausaland to Gonja.
The Wasangari also expanded into northern Yorubaland, where they established
new ruling dynasties at Oyo and Sabe, thus laying the ground for their joking
relationship with the Yoruba (in today’s Benin). Even more profound was the
affiliation between the Wasangari and the rulers of Borno ; as late as the early
colonial period, Bussa annually sent presents to Borno.
For a reader fluent in German, Kuba’s investigation provides a fascinating
reinterpretation, what he calls a ‘ probable past ’, for not only the pre-colonial
history of Borgu but for the whole Central Sudan.
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transliterations and translations at the Islamic College in Sokoto between and
(p. xviii). Each text is preceded by an introduction giving provenance,
background and cross-referencing while footnotes provide clarification on elements
within the translated text itself. A general introduction to Nana Asma’u is
complemented by an outline chronology of her life. The texts fall into a number
of categories reflecting the preoccupations of her life : elegies and appreciations of
people around her, exhortation and celebration of victories in the battle to establish
the Caliphate, didactic verse intended for the convert or the student of Islam, and
exchanges with other scholars and writers.
The texts are fluently and readably translated within the constraints imposed by
the cultural specificity and the religiosity of the original materials. The helpful
footnoting and cross-referencing builds up a picture of the interrelatedness of
much of the material and its embeddedness within the discourse of an Islamic
community of scholars living and working within the western Sudan at the period.
The work of translation and annotation has been herculean, with additional aids for
the student being provided through glossaries of terms, place names, individuals,
as well as an extensive bibliography and six maps. The text has, though, been
presented to the publishers as camera-ready copy and thus perhaps has lacked the
final scrutiny of a copy editor, resulting in a number of minor blemishes. In the
contents pages the transfer of electronic copy to another printer appears to have
substituted a circumflex ‘ u# ’ for the ‘ hooked k ’ and an umlauted ‘ e$ ’ for the ‘ hooked
d ’ in italic versions of the Hausa alphabet. The header in the index pages
erroneously retains ‘ Appendix B ’, while a number of typos have not been picked
up. The only seriously unhelpful omission is that the contents page (or the
beginning of Appendix B) does not list the ajami manuscripts with page numbers,
thereby setting a time-consuming trawl for the reader who wants to find the ajami
text that corresponds with either the Roman Hausa text (happily listed with page
numbers in the contents under Appendix A) or the English translation. But these
are minor defects in what is a major contribution to the scholarly work on this
remarkable woman. This volume will constitute a useful companion volume of
source materials to the forthcoming book by the same authors entitled, One
Woman’s Jihad : Nana Asma’u –.
LOVEDU HISTORY
Die Lobedu SuW dafrikas: Mythos und RealitaW t der RegenkoW nigin Modjadji. (Missions-
geschichtliches Archiv, ). Bei E H$ . Stuttgart : Franz Steiner,
. Pp. . DM ( ---).
The author of this PhD thesis in ethnology at Vienna University sets out to place
the Lovedu in the context of the evolution of society propounded by Walter Dostal
on the basis of ethnographic material from Arabia. This aim is really only
discussed in two brief final chapters, where the conclusion is that the data did not
permit an answer ! The introductory chapter contains a truncated account of South
African history, although it does not provide even a brief summary of the troubled
history of the eastern Transvaal during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries that
should have been attempted in order to place the main section of the book in
historical perspective. The second chapter consists of notes on sources and their
authors.
The long chapter three comprises two parts. The first is a pre! cis of the Berlin
missionary Friedrich Reuter’s journal, correspondence, and notes from to
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, with comments. It is the most valuable section of the book, especially for
those interested in the history of the eastern Transvaal, as it contains frequent
verbatim quotes. Read critically, it provides interesting insights into the structure
and transformation of Lovedu society, the subjugation of the indigenous societies
of the eastern Transvaal by the Boers and the proletarianisation of migratory
labourers forced to proceed to the Witwatersrand to earn money. The second part
consists of a mutilating summary of J. D. and Eileen J. Krige’s work on the
Lovedu, whose The Realm of a Rain-Queen () will always retain its honoured
place on this reviewer’s bookshelf. The author does not seem to have understood
the detailed description and lucid analysis of the intricate system of kinship and
marriage among the Lovedu by the Kriges that was interwoven with the delicate
system of checks and balances constituting the political structure of their kingdom.
No real attempt is made to relate the work of the two anthropologists to that of
Reuter, however, who died only in . Ho$ ckner should have concentrated on
Reuter and attempted a critical analysis of his work.
This reviewer cannot refrain from quoting instances of the indifferent quality of
the German, the use of the word ‘ verunmo$ glichen’ (p. ), for instance, or
‘ Supervision ’ (p. ), or ‘ inkludierte’ (pp. , ), or the phrase ‘ In der
ko$ niglichen Struktur der Lobedu … ’ (p. ). More serious is the confusion
concerning technical terms in social anthropology, e.g. ‘ Polygamie ’ (pp. ff.)
and ‘ Polygynie ’ (pp. ff.). The series editor says in his preface that since the
early nineties the apartheid view of history has been in the process of being revised,
and that German historians should contribute to this. This reviewer dates the
commencement of the rewriting of South African history at the very latest back to
Monica Wilson’s article in African Studies where – using Portuguese sources
– she proved that people speaking Bantu languages had been in the Eastern Cape
at least since the circumnavigation of the Cape. There is absolutely no need for
German historians to teach any historians of South Africa outside Germany how
to do critical history. Or does he really think this volume is a patch on Delius’s A
Lion Amongst the Cattle or Van Onselen’s The Seed is Mine ? It isn’t. What German
historians can do is to point to material in German missionary archives and
translate it. When doing so, however, they should critically evaluate the often
biased stance of German missionaries, whose ideology contributed to that of
apartheid, and should show how they were – like Reuter – implicated in the
expulsion of Africans from their land by border ruffians and settlers.
University of Munich .
The World and a Very Small Place in Africa. By D R. W. Armonk, NY
and London : M. E. Sharp, . Pp. xvj. £. ( ---) ;
£., paperback ( ---).
The book does as the title promises : it seeks to position a small and ancient West
African state, Niumi, in the broad currents of world history over the last five
centuries. From the mid-fifteenth century, Niumi, located on the northern shore
of the Gambia River estuary, became increasingly linked to and influenced by the
outside world, until it was swallowed by the British colony of Gambia. It is now
part of the Republic of Gambia. In order to analyse the fortunes of Niumi in the
process of globalization, the author adopted Immanuel Wallerstein’s world-system
theory: Niumi is shown gradually to change from a small player external to the
evolving capitalist world-system into a peripheral one, losing its power, prosperity
and political identity in the process. This broad characterization, as well as the
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chapter titles and subheadings, might give the impression that the book is doctrinal
and its portrayal of Niumi’s history almost cardboard. This is not the case. Wright
offers a rich, objective and sensitive reconstruction of the history of Niumi,
weighing shrewdly and skillfully the internal, regional and global factors at play.
Part I places Niumi in its regional and world context prior to the arrival of the
Europeans. Part II links the growing Atlantic trade and the evolving American
plantation complex with the fortunes of Niumi as a regional African power able to
control and exact profit from the traffic along the Gambia River. Wright
demonstrates that the first three centuries of Niumi’s involvement in the Atlantic
trade did not lead either to impoverishment or peripherisation of Niumi. Until the
mid-eighteenth century, Niumi prospered, both politically and economically.
While this is particularly true of the state and the ruling class, ordinary people,
except for slaves, were also able to benefit from the increased wealth and expansion
of their world. The growing incorporation into the outside world had its downside :
Niumi developed dependence on imported goods and on foreign markets. Niumi’s
vulnerability was first revealed in the second half of the eighteenth century, amidst
agricultural problems and political instability. As Part III shows, however, Niumi
entered a steep decline only in the nineteenth century. It was caught between three
competing forces : economic change, the rising power of the British and Muslim
militancy that weakened the ruling families of Niumi and facilitated British
colonial takeover. While in the past the British were forced to concede Niumi’s
demands, the political, technological and military change in the West in the first
half of the nineteenth century made it possible for them to act from a position of
strength, and eventually strip Niumi of access to the Gambia River. The loss of
revenues from the river traffic and the growing dependence on peanut exports led
to a deepening economic malaise, which increased during the colonial period.
The colonial period for Niumi began long before , the date of the formal
British takeover. The colonial government directly and indirectly promoted
peanut cultivation and eventually adopted a pro-Islam policy, thus profoundly
reshaping many aspects of life in the former Niumi. The dependence on peanut
exports left the Niumi area extremely vulnerable to the swings of global economy,
as the Depression and post-World-War-II era clearly proved. Niumi, like most of
Gambia, emerged from this period with a very thin elite and an impoverished
majority.
The establishment of independent Gambia did not, or perhaps could not,
improve the situation in the former Niumi. The dependence on imports and
therefore on production for exports, and the abject poverty of most of the
population continued. As one of Wright’s subheadings puts it there were ‘ New
rulers, [but] old rules ’ (Ch. ).
The book closes with a touching journalistic window onto a descendent of one
Niumi’s ruling family, the Manneh, who despite his poverty is optimistic about the
future. It is at the very end of the book that the reader sees clearly why Wright
chose the world-system theory to inform his story of Niumi. While most of the
book would have done better without the steady references to the ‘ world-system ’,
the final paragraph, where he expresses scepticism about Manneh’s optimism,
brings the point home :
As I thought … of his [Manneh’s] skinny frame and sore leg, of the empty rice
bags from Taiwan, of the pathetic millet and bitter-tomato stew that was to be
his daily meal, of the scrawny goats and chicken … of the unemployed young
men and hard-working young women and the runny-nosed kids – I had my
doubts (p. ).
Wright’s book is a successful effort to link world and local history. The
reconstruction of the dynamics of Niumi’s past is rich, original, extremely well-
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researched and compelling. The passages summarizing relevant trends in world
history are by necessity shallower and in the first half a little artificial. Overall,
however, the book is informed and informing, well-balanced, well-written, and
very insightful.
E U R O P E O V E R S E AS
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but readers unfamiliar with Dutch colonial history must wait until ‘ The strange
case of Dutch imperialism ’, two essays later, to learn that the system entailed the
compulsory cultivation of cash crops for the government at rates determined
unilaterally by the government.
Nevertheless, Imperialism and Colonialism remains a useful collection. Professor
Wesseling’s ideas are always interesting, and he presents them with both clarity
and verve. Even those revisiting some of these papers after a lapse of several years
will be struck by how well they still read.
Domesticating the Empire : Race, Gender and Family Life in French and Dutch
Colonialism. Edited by J C-S and F G. Charlottes-
ville and London : University Press of Virginia, . Pp. xij. $. (
---) ; $., paperback ( ---).
This carefully edited collection of twelve essays on imperial gender ideologies is
a welcome addition to reading lists on imperial ideologies in general and the history
of gender relations in an imperial context in particular. It is particularly useful
from a comparative perspective, as its contributors have consciously chosen to
concentrate on Dutch and French imperial discourses on how to ‘ civilize ’ or
‘ domesticate ’ the dangerous beast of sexuality, rather than to add to the already
substantial body of literature on the British Empire. Any student of gendered
language interested in the question of how both the imagery and the concep-
tualisation of gender shaped the perception as well as the re-ordering of the
imperial ‘ self ’ and the colonial ‘ other ’, often in the language of mother-child
relationships, will be delighted by the wealth of case-studies in this book.
The study of Locher-Scholten which examines the Dutch rhetoric on Javanese
servants is particularly penetrating, because it places the colonial discourse of such
literature as manuals for newcomers to the Netherlands East Indies and children’s
books firmly in the context of the changing reality of the colonial household. This
serves well to uncover the ambiguities of a rhetoric which was based on the
somewhat contradictory notions of social distance and paternalistic structures.
Horne’s discussion of the visions of social reform by the French republican think-
tank MuseT e Social, as well as Pedersen’s of the French discussion of paternity suits
and their admissibility in the Empire convince because they firmly link develop-
ments in France to those abroad, from the ideas of upholding divisions of class and
race to the notion of women as agents of ‘ moral and cultural betterment’. This
became particularly poignant, as Conklin demonstrates, when increasing numbers
of French women were accepted into the Empire after World War I – which
constitutes a striking parallel to developments in British imperialism. Bowlan
shows plausibly, however, how the idea of educating ‘ the veiled Muslim woman ’
actually constituted a threat to the notion of an eternal civilizing mission, while
Kipp discusses how Dutch missionary gender concepts were rather conservative
by comparison with the realities of Karo women in Sumatra. Clancy-Smith
convincingly shows the underlying fears of cultural hybridity in the development
of a particular notion of the Algerian woman by both the French and European
Algerians.
Rutherford and Simpson Fletcher explore the depiction of Algeria and Papua
New Guinea in gendered terms and their role for the French and Dutch national
and imperial projects, while Gouda shows how nationalists could provoke by
playing on such imagery in their criticism of the imperial project. Novels are a
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particularly rich field in which visions of the empire could be played out, and
Edwards interestingly links the feminine portrayal of Cambodia in fiction to
western women’s emancipation. Pattynama, on the other hand, spoils the exposure
of Dutch colonial fantasies of the transgression of racial boundaries by her
somewhat pretentious rhetoric : ‘ The novel’s haunting ambiguities emerge from
this submerged space ’ (p. ).
If there is one desideratum which emerges from reading this as well as other
books on gender and empire, it is the question whether the approaches by Gouda
and Rutherford could not be carried further. It might be frutiful if future research
confronted imperial visions of gender more systematically with the realities of the
colonised, with their gender ideologies and their gendered depictions of the
imperial powers.
GENDERED FREEDOMS
Liberating the Family? Gender and British Slave Emancipation in the Rural Western
Cape, South Africa, –
. By P S. Cape Town : David Philip,
Oxford : James Currey, Portsmouth, NH : Heinemann, . Pp. xiiij. £
( ---) ; £., paperback ( ---).
Locating gender at the centre of historical analysis, Liberating the family ?
demonstrates that ‘ amelioration and emancipation from the s through the
s mark an important period in the making of social and economic categories
in South Africa … Ideas held by different participants about the capacities and
roles of men and women crucially shaped the world of freedom into which ex-slave
women and men were liberated in . ’ (pp. –) Liberating the family ? aims ‘ to
unite a concern with ideological contests over family formation [particularly in
struggles over labour] with attention to the emotional lives of people freed from
slavery. ’ (p. ) Scully attends to this task with sensitivity, although at times rather
more is deduced about the inner lives and beliefs of freed people – or, indeed, of
settlers – than the evidence seems to warrant (e.g. p. ).
The book’s agenda is set by a series of questions. Firstly, ‘ how widespread was
the twinning of freedom and masculine authority, of freedom and feminine
subordination, in the ideologies of Abolition ? ’ The first part of the book discusses
the gendered nature of amelioration at the Cape. Ameliorative legislation would
influence later labour laws, which were also profoundly gendered (ch. ). Scully
goes on to ask the central question : what did freedom mean ? ‘ Did slave women
and men share this gendered vision of freedom ? And did significant disjunctures
exist between freed peoples’ experience of emancipation in the Cape Colony and
the different ideologies of gender promoted by abolitionists, missionaries and
government officials ? ’ Scully painstakingly explores these issues, in the context of
major source difficulties which force a heavy reliance on anecdotal evidence. While
settlers are excluded from the above questions, they too are significant (if
somewhat two-dimensional) actors in this narrative.
Struggles over gender and the family are placed at the centre of historical
processes that shaped the post-emancipation rural Western Cape, where most
former slaves resided and worked in the decades after . Part , ‘ Liberating the
family ? ’ focuses on ‘ landscapes of emancipation ’ and ‘ labouring families ’,
presenting a fascinating analysis of gendered labour legislation in this era, and the
differences between theory and practice, but presenting freed families in a wholly
positive light. The third part of the book is entitled ‘ Sexuality, race and colonial
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identities ’ ; it is here that ‘ the family ’ is shown to be a site of gendered struggle.
Thus we read that ‘ for women freedom … did not necessarily entail liberation from
violent assault on their persons, either by the men they married or lived with or by
men in colonial society in general ’ (p. ).
Nevertheless, freed people, men and women, struggled to control their and their
families’ (including children’s) labour and lives in the post-emancipation era,
against what is presented as largely ungendered and monochromatically un-
sympathetic settlers (and other, somewhat more nuanced, colonial authorities and
missionaries). Missionaries loom large in this narrative. Although only per cent
of former slaves entered mission stations after emancipation (most through familial
connections), Scully demonstrates the missions’ symbolic value as an alternative
– albeit unrealisable – way of life that was a crucial source of tension between the
various colonial actors.
Freed people played a significant role in shaping the post-emancipation socio-
economic landscape. Strategies to control their own labour – and thereby enact
their own freedom – included women’s withdrawal from domestic labour for
farmers, and a preference for casual labour rather than the longer-term contracts
favoured by farmers in the context of the post-emancipation labour legislation of
the s and s. Scully argues that ‘ the movement from domestic work for
employers into domestic work for one’s own household came to signify liberty
from slavery, and an entry into womanhood for some freed women ’ (p. ).
Frustratingly, no evidence is presented to support this contention. Ultimately,
however, ‘ economics rather than ideology mainly seems to have determined the
nature of married women’s [and men’s and children’s] work ’ (p. ).
Liberating the Family explores the ideological, socio-economic, and emotional
forces shaping freed people’s experiences of freedom through various lenses.
Scully explores different ways in which women in particular were constructed in
this period (there is less on constructions of masculinity). Thus in Part she argues
‘ that ideologies of gender, race and sexuality themselves helped shape and produce
particular colonial narratives and experiences ’. Crucially, Scully brings rape,
sexuality, infanticide into the mainstream – as crucial locations of official colonial
discourse as well as central to constructions of freedom and identity of freed
women and men. It is a pity that these chapters are relegated to a separate, final
section in the book. Nevertheless, throughout this book, Scully demonstrates that
‘ in their struggles to define the meanings of freedom, different groups invoked
[different] connections between gender, class, and racial categories which helped
define the post-emancipation era at the Cape in part as a struggle over the meanings
of masculinity and femininity ’ (p. ). Liberating the family ? is path-breaking ; it
is elegantly argued and written, and should be read by everyone interested in the
histories of southern Africa.
A N G L O-A F R I K A N E R R E L A T I O N S I N T H E C A P E
Cecil Rhodes and the Cape Afrikaners : The Imperial Colossus and the Colonial
Parish Pump. By M T. London : Frank Cass, . Pp.
xj. £ ( --x) ; £, paperback ( ---).
Tamarkin’s scholarly and succinct appraisal of key aspects of the political career
of Cecil Rhodes in many respects represents a watershed in both indigenous South
African and broader British imperial historiography. His intricate focus upon a key
lacuna, the dynamics behind Rhodes’ short-lived but nevertheless extraordinary
political alliance forged with large sections of Cape Afrikanerdom, throws fresh
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light upon the origins of the second Anglo-Boer War as well as the murky melting
pot of ‘ mutton, mines, vines ’ and extra-territorial ambitions, issues which
dominated Cape political life in the late nineteenth century.
In his opening chapters Tamarkin reveals the essential ingredients of this
unholy alliance, or, using his own original metaphorical terminology, the ‘ mar-
riage ’ consummated between these two potentially antagonistic partners. Both
‘ bride ’ and ‘ bridegroom ’ had much to offer each other. For Rhodes it was a case
of using local Afrikanerdom as a crucial support to realise his territorial ambitions
north of the Zambesi and, ultimately, north of the Limpopo River. It was also an
alliance of necessity : the English-speaking political groupings were far too
fragmented to provide local regional backing for his schemes compared to an
increasingly Anglicised and far more cohesive Afrikaner Bond. For many Cape
Afrikaners the motivation for such a political alliance was primarily racial and
economic. Rhodes was the imperialist they thought they could trust. He was,
apparently, far removed from the interfering ‘ trust ’ and welfare policies of the
imperial metropole. Hence Rhodes’ support for the infamous Glen Grey Act
which ensured a regular African labour supply and which effectively disen-
franchised many African voters was welcomed by many Cape Afrikaner farmers
and industrialists. Similarly, Afrikaner politicians were granted full access to
Rhodes’ formidable electoral machine which thrived in the highly corruptible
Cape political arena. In these different ways Rhodes could be seen to be acting in
defence of an indigenous ‘ South African order ’ as opposed to the much feared and
potentially politically suffocating, ‘ imperial order ’.
Nevertheless, as Tamarkin contends, ‘ underneath the solid crust of the alliance ’
there was ‘ a threatening gulf between the Cape centricism of the Bond and the
aggressive imperialism of Rhodes. Only the Cape-centric guise of Rhodes’ imperial
vision lured the Bond into the alliance ’ (p. ). It was always therefore a fragile
coalition. Rhodes’ tacit support for the Jameson raid, a high risk attempt to
destroy Krugerism, the last main obstacle to his imperial dreams, served only to
revive kith and kinship amongst all Afrikaners, expose his political cynicism and
effectively precipitate ‘ the re-racialisation of Cape politics ’ (p. ) – English
against Afrikaner.
While Rhodes was exposed as an imposter and jingoist to his Cape Afrikaner
allies, Tamarkin challenges previous writers by emphasising the incompleteness of
their ‘ divorce ’. The partnership was slow to disengage and friendships between
Rhodes and leading Afrikaners survived, testifying to the deep personal factors
which had also once cemented this uneasy alliance. Indeed, it was such social
bonds that possibly saved Rhodes from the consequences of the earlier anti-Scab
legislation of –, which, while designed to prevent a debilitating disease
prevalent amongst sheep herds, aroused considerable opposition from cost-
conscious Afrikaner wool farmers in the Western Cape.
In summary, Tamarkin’s study provides a radical and well-substantiated
reinterpretation of this crucial period of Anglo–Afrikaner relations. His thesis
further challenges the earlier crude ethnicised vision of ‘ Boer and Briton ’ locked
in inevitable conflict and reveals the subtle social and economic nuances which
governed a highly complex political environment in South Africa during the
closing decades of the nineteenth century. At times the ‘ weight ’ of evidence
becomes, perhaps, too overwhelming for even the specialised reader easily to
absorb. There are, for example, instances of the excessive use of quotations in
support of merely one argument or contention. Aside from these minor stylistic
shortfalls, this book will emerge as a landmark in the study of Afrikaner, indeed,
white identity during this turbulent period of South African history. More
tantalisingly it will inevitably invite the reader to speculate upon alternative
political consequences had Jamesons’ ‘ deathblow ’ not occurred. Could, for
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instance, the Anglo-Boer War of – been limited, moderated or even
averted by the survival, even extension of this remarkable political alliance ? Or was
the conflict inevitably the product of a much wider and deeper socio-economic
racial\class divide, which transcended any such localised political brokerage and,
which primarily reflected both the consequences of the recent massive in-
dustrialisation of South Africa and the concomitant rapacious imperial interven-
tionism ? This book has stimulated an important debate which must be continued.
F R A N C O-M U S L I M R E L A T I O N S I N T H E S A H A R A
La leT gende noire de la SanuV siyya : Une confreT rie musulmane saharienne sous le regard
français, –. vols. Par J-L T. Paris : Editions de la
Maison des Sciences de l’Homme, . Pp. xiiij. FF ( --
-).
The Sanusiyya played an important role in the revitalization of Islam in the
western Islamic lands in the nineteenth century. Triaud explores the history of this
movement within the context of European and especially French expansion in
North Africa and the Sahara, and with particular reference to the origins and
evolution of the systematic anti-Sanusi discourse which was perpetrated by French
colonial writers and officials, the leT gende noire of the title. The history of the
Sanusiyya was complex. From its formal origins in about in Arabia, its
founder Muhammad al-Sanusi (–) established his first African zawiya in
Libya in the s. Expansion into the Sahara occurred under his son, Muhammad
al-Mahdi (–), who transferred the centre of the movement southward as
an expression of withdrawal, or hijra. Al-Mahdi’s cousin, Ahmad al-Sharif
(–), waged jihad in the attempt to maintain independence from colonial
rule, and thus the movement played itself out as an intellectual, religious and
political reaction to European expansion.
As Triaud demonstrates, by the end of the nineteenth century a Sanusiyya
presence extended across the Sahara, from Benghazi in the north to Kanem,
northeast of Lake Chad ; Sanusiyya lodges were also established in many of the
major cities of the Sokoto caliphate and Borno. The southern orientation is
particularly important. The available documentation further demonstrates the
extensive written interaction among the various Muslim governments and religious
communities throughout the Sahara, the sahel and the northern Sudan, and the
extent that political and religious rivalries connected sub-Saharan Muslim com-
munities with the central Islamic lands. In a masterful way, Triaud applies the
rigorous standards of diplomatic history in his effort to understand the relation-
ships among the various powers vying to control the regions bordering the Sahara
in the nineteenth century.
The Sanusiyya are to be compared with other Islamic reform movements,
particularly those associated with the Tijaniyya, Qadiriyya and Mahdiyya. Each of
these movements began at zawiya established by followers of particular tariqa from
which they extended their influence over large, multi-ethnic regions, sometimes in
the form of direct political control through the waging of jihad. Understandably,
scholars will want to know the similarities and differences in responses to European
expansion, in the relationship of the different movements to the Ottoman Porte,
and the economic and social consequences of these movements, especially in
relation to slavery and the institution of Islamic legal and social norms. Triaud’s
massive study of the Sanusiyya is a major contribution to our understanding of
Islamic reform movements and their relationship to European expansion.
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Triaud draws on a great range of sources, including material from the major
French archives, as well as those in Tunisia, Mali, Niger, and Senegal. However,
he does not seem to have consulted archival materials in Libyan, Italian, or
Ottoman archives, although he has used some materials published in Libya. It can
be expected, therefore, that there is considerably more to be learned about the
Sanusiyya. Appendices include Arabic documents and translations. There is an
excellent chronological table, and a detailed bibliography.
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and established the French protectorate over Tahiti was called Dupetit-Thouars,
not Dupetit-Thouard, and the number of colonial firms represented in the Union
coloniale française at its formation in was about , not . There is also a
curious lack of balance in the chapters dealing with the colonial conquests of the
nineteenth century.
In a work of this length, no specific instance of colonial expansion can be
discussed in any great detail, which makes it all the more difficult to understand
why the occupation of the Comoros Islands, however interesting a story in its own
right, is accorded more space than the conquest of Madagascar, or the Kerguelen
Islands (effectively uninhabited) more than the Middle Eastern mandates. More
seriously, though perhaps understandably given the nature of his book, the author
has been a little too reluctant to advance any arguments of his own. For example,
nobody could possibly disagree with his claim that ‘ decolonization … was a
product of changing economic, political and military circumstances in France and
the wider world, joined to the growth of colonial nationalism and the triumph of
independence movements ’. But the same could be said about decolonization
anywhere, and Professor Aldrich makes no attempt to explain what made the
French experience of decolonization different from, say, the British.
These quibbles aside, however, Professor Aldrich has managed to produce a
remarkably clear, full and up-to-date survey, both simple enough to be accessible
to undergraduates with no prior knowledge of the subject and sophisticated
enough to make reading it worthwhile. Greater France is likely to remain the
standard undergraduate text on its subject for many years to come.
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emerge in varying accounts, but these differences remain confined to more or less
the same conceptual framework. By contrast, the contribution of the Tuareg
scholar, Rissalan ag Alfarouk, which draws more on oral than archival sources,
tends not to respect the temporal framework of the section in which it appears.
This author addresses the unstated theme of ‘ resistance to conquest ’ from the
perspective of those who refused to be educated in French established schools,
whereas for the editors, ‘ education ’ is a subject more appropriate to the section on
the ‘ time of Christian peace ’. Questions therefore arise about how broadly
representative are the ‘ eras ’ conceptualized by the editors. More importantly,
where is the dialogue that should tie these disparate perspectives and voices
together ?
Similar difficulties are also evidenced in ‘ the time of Christian peace ’. There are
wonderfully rich ‘ memoirs ’ here in need of response and analysis. Gabriel Feral’s
contribution, for example, contrasts with more traditional views of the comparative
‘ Moor ’ and Tuareg experience in underscoring not ethnographic identities but the
particularisms of conquest and their legacies, and the significance of having created
a Tuareg minority situation in a colonial state dominated by the needs of a black,
sedentary majority.
The study of colonial Africa has recently drawn attention to two issues also
raised in this book : schooling and slavery. As research shows here and elsewhere,
children of the elite – envisaged by colonial authorities as future leaders of
‘ friendly ’ (ex) colonies – often resisted attending school. Slaves, freed slaves,
‘ marginals ’ and low-castes took their places in the classroom – with all that this
implies in terms of short- and long-range consequence for social and political
evolution. The administrators also chronicle the defeat of ‘ nomadic education ’.
The need to centralize services in permanent buildings, the removal of children
from camps to attend upper-level town schools, the levying of costly ‘ school-fees ’
in kind (food, labor, animals) ultimately undermined all efforts to innovate. These
insights add considerably to our current understanding of colonial education more
generally in these regions, which has focused on the role of religion in challenging
schooling policies, and suggested new angles to explore in ‘ processes ’ like
sedentarization, social-class formation and political democratization.
The contributions on slavery are largely descriptions of colonial policy. The very
absence of the kind of ‘ case-study ’, culturally-nuanced material one finds in other
studies of African slavery under colonialism illuminates again the dearth of
published research on the subject in the Saharan context. These highlight the need
for more comparative work between desert peoples, between nomads and ‘ seden-
taries ’, and between the colonial and post-colonial ‘ servile ’ condition. The
conference discussion seems to have broached (but not developed) a fascinating
question, that of colonial ‘ slave language ’. The French imposed their ideology of
‘ moving from slavery to freedom ’ on the very terminology they used to interpret
Saharan reality, yet in local reality, the terms used to designate various ‘ slave
conditions ’ distinguished subtly different but nonetheless distinct social identities
which had nothing to do with concepts or gradations of freedom.
The ‘ time of good-byes ’ seems an afterthought. An extensive and extremely rich
interview with a Tuareg in his fifties, ag Acherif (presented by Pierre Boilley),
reaffirms the potential of this exercise really to open up the colonial experience. His
testimony leads into the final account (by Boilley) of efforts to create a virtually
autonomous ‘ French Sahara ’ (the Organisation Commune des Regions Sahariennes)
at independence. This fascinating account could have been used to give coherence
and relevance to the preceding contributions, for example, by articulating how the
differing colonial experiences of the Mauritanians and the Tuareg shaped the post-
colonial Saharan world ; how French perceptions of their destiny in the Sahara
were so much a product of those experiences ; how our understanding of post-
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colonialism – even with the extensive theoretical work available – still misses so
much of the internal complexity and contradiction which was the painful reality of
‘ being ’ colonial.
University of Alberta .
A F R I C A N S T U D E N T S I N E U R O PE
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thoroughly documented in addition to providing a well-researched link between
student politics and the wider body of work on Pan-Africanism. Guimont’s
sources are less extensive, but she makes good use of the newly available archives
of the Office de Coope! ration et d’Accueil Universitaire, which is all the more
impressive as the book was based on research undertaken for a maıV trise. Both
volumes provide a valuable addition to the literatures concerning the presence of
West Africans in Europe and education in West Africa. The past few years have
seen a proliferation of studies in the latter field, both published and in thesis form,
adding new perspectives to the canon established by Ashby, Foster, Clignet and
Bouche. Readers are now able to profit from valuable new work by those who can
draw on their personal experience, such as Boahen’s history of Mfantsipim school
and the retrospective upon African higher education by Ade Ajayi et al. The work
of younger authors should also be considered, such as Lebeau, Nwauwa, Bianchini,
Chafer, in addition to Adi and Guimont.
Guimont’s volume provides a critical balance not present in the accounts by
Charles Diane! and Se! kou Traore! that draw upon their own student years in
France. While not wanting to detract from the importance of their records as
primary actors, such work has to be seen in the light of its often polemical content.
However, those who feel that historians should investigate all the available
evidence will regret the lack of interviews by both Guimont and Adi. Many of the
key actors are still alive and can speak to questions raised by the documentary
evidence and challenge alleged biases and omissions in the written record. It is one
thing for Adi to rely on the colonial record for his assertion that Nkrumah and
Botsio were closely connected with the Communist Party and ‘ regarded themselves
as communists ’ (p. ). To get closer to the truth, one has to put the question to
Botsio himself ; however, constraints of space prevent me from discussing Botsio’s
reply here !
C H R I S T I A N I T Y A N D P A N-A F R I C A N I S M
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foreshadowing of Marcus Garvey’s later and better known movement), and was
both its publicist and one of the pioneers who returned to the Gold Coast in
in the first wave of resettlement. This experiment foundered, largely through
deficient organisation and British colonial obstruction, and Faduma returned to
educational posts in Sierra Leone, where, along with his prolific lecturing and
writing, he played a large part in the National Congress of British West Africa.
This movement foundered, too, largely because of the divisive Christian ethos
fostered by its elite – although decidedly not by Faduma, who had always
advocated wide inclusivism. In , he returned to the USA where till his death
in he continued to advocate his liberal Christianity and pan-Africanism,
although by this time his variants of both were being superseded by other forms.
This book is not strictly a biography – we learn surprisingly little of events of a
personal nature, and hear nothing of his family, almost nothing of his wife. It is
essentially a picture of Faduma’s intellectual development, dutifully reconstructed
from his voluminous writing – most of it superor journalism. Perhaps development
is not the right word, for the overall impression is just how consistent Faduma
remained throughout his life (with only a shift towards more realism in about
). His main theological emphases were : the incorporation of the findings of
modern scientific scholarship ; a greater respect for, and appreciation of, non-
Christian religions and cultures ; the indigenisation of Christian ritual and
personnel ; the disassociation of mission efforts from western racial, cultural,
political and religious chauvinism ; a stress on the social dimensions of mission ; a
call for ecumenical and cooperative effort ; and the ending of paternalist relations.
He was an articulate exponent of all these attitudes.
The book is a fascinating account of the contribution of one of the less well
known black intellectuals, an associate of – but more than a mere disciple of – the
more famous Blyden. Moore gives a picture of the wider Christian and black
intellectual worlds at this time, both in West Africa and the USA. Moore’s main
interest is Faduma’s theological ideas (the book began life as a PhD thesis at New
York’s Union Theological Seminary), and he shows well how this strand of
theological liberalism (often ignored, with all attention given to conservative
evangelicalism) exerted its influence among a small though significant group of
Africans and African Americans. These ideas made a sizeable contribution in the
early years of Pan-Africanism, even if this Christian component had been
supeseded, even repudiated, by the Fifth Pan-African Congress in .
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Scheulen’s book contains an annotated bibliography of about titles from the
pre-World War I German colonial press, including a number of missionary
journals. The author focuses on texts in about journals published by the
Colonial Office, various colonial interest groups, or individuals.
The first part of the book is mainly descriptive, summarizing perceptions of the
various African groups living in the territory. Authors in the German colonial
press employed ethnic stereotypes which, consisting of a mix of individual
experiences and generalized views, frequently contradicted each other. Expectedly,
Scheulen found numerous negative and outright racist statements. The more
positive descriptions documented may be more interesting. Some authors saw the
Herero, especially before the – war, as a ‘ master race ’ (Herrenvolk, pp.
–), as opposed to the Ovambo agriculturalists described as hard-working, but
displaying a subaltern mentality. In a similar vein, the Nama were sometimes
described as especially intelligent, and the Basters as the ‘ most industrious and
progressive of all Coloureds in the Protectorate ’ (p. ). The experience of the
– war naturally led to increased fears about the ‘ black danger ’ (schwarze
Gefahr), but also made some authors to acknowledge the military capabilities of
Africans (pp. –).
The second part of the book undertakes a ‘ structural evaluation ’ of the material.
Scheulen argues that ‘ utilitarian ’ motives, viewing Africans primarily in terms of
their ability to work for the colonists, was the single most widespread perspective
taken, influencing the authors’ views on ‘ native education ’, demography, and
commercial relations. Scheulen furthermore looks at how the authors evaluated the
social and cultural features of African societies, identifying a number of debates
among them, for example about the degree to which the ‘ natives ’ should be
regarded as ‘ capable of culture ’ (kulturfaW hig, p. ) and legally responsible
(rechtsfaW hig, pp. –). Before the turn of the century authors frequently
subscribed to a theory of culture as determined by environmental conditions,
informed by evolutionistic models. Later on, a racism based on anthropological
reasoning became widespread, sometimes culminating in a type of cultural
Darwinism that forecast the extinction (Aussterben) of the ‘ yellow race ’ (Nama and
Khoi-San, pp. –).
While the articles in the colonial press at times provide important bits and pieces
of factual information about African societies, Scheulen rightly concludes that
‘ many of the judgements made in the colonial press say more about the observers
than the observed. ’ (p. ). He notes some of the theoretical concepts upon which
the authors’ views of African societies were based, but rarely explores this
dimension in greater detail. Neither does he give much attention to the policy
consequences of this type of thought, except in a few cases (like the prohibition of
mixed marriages between European and Africans, pp. –). While viewing the
Herero as ‘ aristocrats ’, the Germans did their best to exterminate them physically
by means of war in – this most dramatic difference between perception and
practice remains unexplored. The comparison between the mainstream colonial
press and missionary journals, parts of which draw ‘ a considerably more differ-
entiated picture ’ (p. ) of African societies, remains cursory.
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COLONIAL NAMIBIA
Namibia under South African Rule : Mobility and Containment,
–. Edited by
P H, J S, M W and W H-
. Oxford : James Currey, . Pp. xxj. £ ( ---) ;
£., paperback ( ---).
This book presents a selection of twelve papers from the ‘ Trees never Meet ’
conference, which took place in Windhoek in , and focused on a neglected
period in Namibian historiography. The editors have shunned a rigid chronological
approach in favour of a loosely connected discussion of various themes. The richly
annotated introductory chapter, which was co-written by Jeremy Silvester,
Marion Wallace and Patricia Hayes, probes the ambiguities of colonial power,
which had to be continuously negotiated in the varying contexts of economic,
social, political and particularly gender relations. Moreover, the authors make the
important point that a transplantation of explanatory models from the South
African context to Namibia is inadequate in explaining the peculiarities of
Namibian history (pp. , ).
Hayes argues against a merely ‘ recuperative agenda ’ of the early positivist phase
in feminist studies and focuses instead on female agency as an integrative part of
historical transformation (p. ). Her study of the ‘ famine of the dams ’ shows
how colonial administrators and chiefs collaborated in preventing the migration of
African women out of Ovamboland (p. ). Thus, she emphasizes the non-
economic rationality behind the state-encouraged migration of Ovambo men to the
south during economic recession. In her view, the state indulged in a fantasy about
a gendered colonial society, rather than combating economic problems by rational
means (pp. –).
In a similar vein, Wallace describes how medical tests for venereal disease in
Windhoek were conducted rather haphazardly among African women, as if they
were ‘ not a genuine response to medical necessity ’ but to visceral fears of social
contamination and disorder (p. ). These anxieties intensified in the s due to
demographic shifts and the growing concern among Europeans about an imagined
physical degeneration of the ‘ imperial race ’ (p. ).
Meredith McKittrick adds ‘ generation ’ as another important analytical category
to the gender perspective (pp. –). She shows how young Ovambo women had
to negotiate the social barriers that were constituted by the overlapping categories
of race, class, gender and seniority.
In a particularly illuminating contribution, Robert Gordon shifts the focus from
the ‘ instrumentality of vagrancy legislation ’ to its inherent contradictions and thus
to the cultural meaning of the control of labour (p. ). He provides a sharp
analysis of what he calls the ‘ Prozac factor ’ in colonial law, i.e. the functionality of
colonial legislation in terms of the soothing effects it promised to the settlers, and
not merely in terms of the overall rationality of social engineering. Gordon argues
against the Foucauldian model that there was little appreciation among colonial
administrators of the scientific study of African societies. He concludes that power
is not always manifest in the accumulation and control of knowledge, but also in
the deliberate ignorance of rulers. Expert knowledge of African culture was
perceived as an almost inbred constituent of the colonial mind, authenticated by
proximity to, and day-to-day experience with, ‘ the native ’.
It is in the nature of an anthology that the editors have tried to establish a tone
which is not always sustained by the various contributors. This is not to denigrate
the achievements of individual authors – each chapter is well written and provides
the reader with new insights into neglected aspects of Namibian history – but it is
perhaps inevitable that some of the authors should have responded less en-
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thusiastically to the editors’ invitation to consider carefully the complexities of
gender and the reinvention of tradition.
In their discussion of the revival of Herero society, Gesine Kru$ ger and Dag
Henrichsen focus extensively on the Herero Truppenspieler. Anxious to discard the
view that the adoption of German uniforms and militarist symbols by the Herero
amounted to a mindless imitation of the colonial oppressors, the authors express
their reluctance to use this term. Evidence which they present, however, seems to
suggest that it was used by the participants themselves (p. ). Rather than seeing
‘ troop players ’ as a derogatory term, it could be read as a reflection of the playful
and inventive way in which the Herero tried to reconstruct their identity after the
disastrous war against the Germans. There is relatively little on the gender aspects
of the otjiserandu, apart from pointing out that women too were members of the
organization. One would like to know more about how the female participants dealt
with the reinvention of a specifically male identity, which must have flourished in
Truppenspieler ranks.
Ben Fuller’s detailed account of the increasing tension between the Damara and
Herero in the Otjimbingwe reserve in the s provides interesting information
about ethnic identity in a changing colonial environment. He argues that Heinrich
Vedder’s Eurocentric ‘ holy writ ’ on ‘ tribal ’ divisions helped to foment conflict
around the drawing of boundaries between the two indigenous groups (p. ).
However, this critique of the patriarch of Namibian colonial historiography claims
rather sweepingly that conflict arose because the adversaries suddenly and
‘ tragically ’ began to ‘ believe ’ in Vedder’s categorization of the Damara as slaves
(p. ). A more detailed analysis would have cast more light on African
motivation and initiative in this reinvention of tradition, rather than depicting the
influential amateur historian as some kind of omnipotent mastermind.
In spite of the editors’ admission that this book leaves important gaps, it must
be deplored that Jeremy Silvester’s excellent article on the reconstruction of
pastoral economies in southern Namibia is the only account of that region and its
Khoisan inhabitants. Conversely, the book’s emphasis on Ovamboland reflects the
recent scholarly rediscovery of a region that was not only remote, but also
inaccessible because of a bitter war.
While a lack of space does not permit a more extensive discussion of this
fascinating and lavishly produced book, it would be an omission not to mention
that all contributions are based on recent and original research. It is to be hoped
that the collection will inspire more work on the many grey areas that remain
unexplored in Namibian history.
Der Reichtum der Frauen : Leben und Arbeit der weiblichen BevoW lkerung in Siin\
Senegal unter dem Einfluß der franzoW sischen Kolonisation. Bei B R-
. Hamburg : LIT, . Pp. . DM ., paperback ( --
-).
Senegal may be regarded as one of the most extensively researched regions of
Africa in almost all of the humanities and social sciences. However, much of this
research has concentrated on the Islamic societies of the Wolof and the Hal-
pulaaren, while societies such as the Sereer of Siin, which have been Islamized only
in recent times, have failed to attract comparable attention. Furthermore, research
on African societies until recently has tended to neglect gender issues. One merit
of Brigitte Reinwald’s work on the life and work of Sereer women is that it
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contributes to filling these two considerable gaps in research, namely, the
development of Sereer society under colonial rule and the contribution of women
to the development of this society.
After a detailed presentation of women’s studies in African historiography,
Reinwald shows how Sereer women were affected by the economic and social
trnasformations that took place in the Fatick area during the colonial period. The
author repeatedly emphasizes the fact that until the twentieth century, in
economic, cultural and political terms, women had a very strong position in Sereer
society. However, the establishment of colonial rule led to an increasing marginal-
ization of women. Thus, the colonial administration simply took no notice of the
fact that women played a major role in the production not only of food crops like
rice and millet, but also of cash crops such as groundnuts and cotton (p. ).
Usually, only Sereer men were perceived as producers by the colonial adminis-
tration and consequently were granted access to agricultural development services
provided by the colonial administration. As a result of this policy, Sereer women
were forced to go through their husbands in order to gain access to new
technologies, credit and marketing facilities (p. ). At the end of the colonial
period, female agricultural productivity was also significantly lower than male
agricultural productivity (p. ). The dynamics of colonial rule, however, not
only led to the marginalization of Sereer women as independent producers but also
to their exclusion from the political process. Colonial rule thus supported the
formation of a new political arena increasingly dominated by men, either French
colonial administrators or local notables and chiefs. The author finally shows that
the imposition of colonial rule stimulated processes of conversion to Christianity
and Islam that became particularly accentuated in the s. These processes of
conversion again tended to reinforce existing male-dominated interpretations of
social relations and, for instance, enhanced the shift from bilinear to patrilinear
structures of descent and inheritance (p. ).
Yet, women were not passive victims of these processes of change, they tried
actively to develop strategies which would enable them to come to terms with these
structural changes and to survive under conditions of extreme stress. Thus, women
not only started to cultivate cash crops in order to improve their financial position
and set up trading networks of their own, they also tried to evade ‘ well-meant ’
forms of colonial patronage. Sereer women, for instance, boycotted regulations of
the colonial health service that tried to impose compulsory delivery in the new
maternity hospitals. Until the early s, Sereer women who refused to give birth
in the colonial clinics were in fact forcibly brought there and forced to undergo
courses in childcare and hygiene. They were not allowed to leave the hospital and
had to be fed by relatives (p. ). Manifestations of female resistance to colonial
rule were, however, usually disregarded by the male-dominated colonial adminis-
tration and, if perceived at all, were described as ‘ forms of female hysteria ’ (p.
).
Research for this study was based on both archival material and interviews
conducted with women in the Fatick area of Siin, sources which permit the author
to give a well-balanced account of the everyday life of women in Siin during the
colonial period and to show how they managed to develop initiatives enabling them
to retain at least part of their social influence on society during the colonial period.
Thus, Reinwald’s study may be seen as a welcome complement to Jean-Marc
Gastellu’s pioneering analysis L’eT galitarisme eT conomique des Serer du SeT neT gal (Paris
), which concentrated on the post-colonial period.
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FORCED COTTON PRODUCTION
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cultural fairs. Likaka is at his best when demonstrating and analyzing this data in
terms of social history.
The book is less impressive when it comes to economic data and analysis. His
charts are few, and only the most cursory references are made to comparative
productivity between regions or buying stations which might have resulted from
variations in rainfall, communications, local policy implementation, competitive
labor opportunities, local market demand for foodstuffs, and\or international
variations in world supply circumstances. Such data might have provided insights
into producer motivation. Likaka acknowledges several times that competition for
labor among varying sectors of the colonial economy, such as mining, affected the
organization of cotton production, yet he never presents any wage or labor
statistics to substantiate satisfactorily the rather obvious generalizations.
The book is nevertheless a healthy refutation of any idea that Belgian colonialism
provided free market opportunities for African producers, or that cotton pro-
duction in the Congo was the outcome of a rational response to the financial
benefits of cash cropping. As such it should be of considerable interest to scholars
engaged in vent-for-surplus and centre-periphery studies.
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abandoning customary obligations is based on misconceptions. This romantic view
of pre-colonial conditions is not borne out by available evidence.
Among the valuable data the author provides are statistics showing the dire
situation of many Nairobi African workers, most likely predominantly Kikuyu
some years after the European invasion. While the Carpenter Report’s strong
criticism of labour conditions and wages provided evidence of growing government
awareness that African wages were insufficient to provide for most of the work
force, still less for their families, the report is also evidence of the continuing
European bias which presumed that African labour had land and supportive kin
groups in the reserves so that wages need not cover all the needs of the workers.
That many had neither land nor kin which could support them, and that wages
often condemned workers to abject poverty, was not seriously considered. When
the report noted that ‘ approximately per cent of workers’ income is spent on
food ’, it did not ask how other needs were to be met from the little which remained,
nor did it show concern that the most frequently mentioned foodstuffs, though
cheap, fell far short of an adequate diet, able to maintain basic health and prevent
disease.
Among the statistics cited by Maloba is a comparison of wages for African males
in and , which suggests that the post-World War II economy was
demanding more educated workers but had fewer places for illiterate ones. One can
also safely surmise that the illiterate workers of were unlikely to be able to opt
out of the wage economy because they had fortuitously inherited land. One
wonders whether they swelled the desperate, crime-prone populations of the
Nairobi locations described by Maloba, which made differentiating between Mau
Mau and crime difficult if not impossible.
In his introduction, Maloba discusses the worldwide phenomenon of ‘ peasant-
based revolutionary movements ’. While it is undoubtedly true that the Kikuyu in
pre-colonial times were dependent on agriculture and fairly extensive herding, he
does not clarify whether he classifies them as ‘ peasants ’ because they relied on
land. Using that broad definition, data make it clear that the overwhelming number
of Mau Mau participants could no longer rely on land and consequently should not
be called ‘ peasants ’. Conversely, if one would like to reserve the term ‘ peasant ’ for
those whose land provided sustenance and surplus which – by trade or barter –
allowed the acquisition of goods to satisfy needs which the land itself could not,
then many twentieth-century Kikuyu were not peasants either. Data show that
Mau Mau participation correlated with lack of land and resistance to Mau Mau
with land-based sufficiency. Mau Mau may have been a movement of men and
women who – in the economy of their time – aspired to becoming peasants.
Maloba several times raises the important question of whether Mau Mau should
be regarded as a predominantly ethnic movement or whether it can lay claim to
having been a national movement. He concludes that the colonial context of Kenya
as a whole would not have allowed freedom for one part of Kenya only. Mau Mau
undoubtedly contributed to the British desire to divest itself of the burden of
colonial rule. In that sense Mau Mau contributed to the cause of freedom, not just
for the Kikuyu, but for Kenya as a whole. Only time and history can tell whether
ethnic freedom can be translated into a sense of common nationhood.
In spite of some minor criticisms and questions which remain, Maloba has
produced a solid, evenhanded introduction to one of the more important colonial
movements.
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P O P U L A R I Z I N G H I S T O R I C A L M E M O RY
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That guerrillas had to be placed under the ‘ care ’ of the ancestors in operational
areas was not without purpose. Since they arrived among peasants as ‘ strangers ’,
the contribution of the spirit mediums to guerrilla warfare, according to Lan, was
that ‘ they made the acceptance of the guerrillas easier, quicker, more binding and
more profound by allowing this new feature in the experience of the peasantry to
be assimilated to established symbolic categories ’ (p. ). Besides, the reliance on
ancestors and spirit mediums was also conveniently used by the nationalist
movement in a manner that legitimized armed resistance and violent insurrection
and encouraged mutual respect between guerrillas and peasants.
Guerrilla Snuff ends on a note that reminds both the people of Gutu and the
Zimbabwean nation as a whole that ‘ Chimurenga is not yet over ’, as there are still
many battles to be fought such as land redistribution and economic development.
Notwithstanding the fact that Gumbo’s main preoccupation was with recon-
structing the course of the liberation war, a book published in could not have
failed to extend its epilogue and give a synopsis of how, for example, some of these
‘ sons of the soil ’, whose bravery and prowess he celebrates, are now ‘ squatters ’ in
a land they fought to liberate. An exploration of the theme of betrayal as a follow-
up to Guerrilla Snuff would have been in place.
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The story of women’s involvement in TANU is rich and complex. Beginning
with a core group of women in Dar es Salaam, Geiger paints a picture of women
activists of the s : self-employed, Muslim, urban dwellers, often divorced,
with few children, and no particular ethnic consciousness. Whereas most urban
men were afraid to identify openly with TANU for fear of losing their positions in
the lower rungs of the colonial state, TANU women of Dar es Salaam had no
vested role in the colonial system and thus became the force for popularizing the
nationalist cause. Most women activists belonged to ngoma dance societies, so that
TANU women were literally ‘ constructing, embodying and performing ’ Tan-
zanian nationalism as they participated in the struggle (p. ). Ngoma societies
emerge in this history as the glue that made TANU political mobilization possible.
Several chapters move beyond Dar es Salaam to examine ‘ the hinterland ’ of
TANU nationalism, focusing on Moshi, Kilimanjaro and Mwanza, where the
social circumstances, colonial impact and political culture differed vastly from that
of Dar es Salaam. In these regions women tended to be more educated, of
Christian background and politically active before the emergence of TANU as a
result of prior mobilization against local colonial policies. As in Dar es Salaam,
many participated in ngoma, which they used to create networks that enabled
TANU leaders to mobilize local support for independence. About women
activists are highlighted and their voices come through most profoundly when
articulating their reasons for involvement in the nationalist cause. Embedded in
the texts are tensions between these women and their husbands and fathers, their
reasons for joining TANU, and their expectations of what an independent
Tanzania would bring women. The implicit question of whether life for Tanzanian
women has improved since independence is addressed most effectively by Lucy
Lameck, a Kilimanjaro activist, who stresses the importance of having an articulate
leader like Nyerere ‘ to whom we could entrust our country ’, and an independent
state within which to fight for better conditions for women (p. ).
Geiger’s account does not focus simply on women’s participation in the success
story of Tanzanian nationalism and independence. The tensions between the
independent state’s sponsorship of the Umoja wa Wanawake wa Tanzania (Union
of Tanzanian Women), a legacy of colonial developmentalist paradigms that
viewed women as objects for improvement and the assertive, self-empowering
nationalism of Bibi Titi and her cohorts are laid bare in several concluding
chapters. Bibi Titi’s troubled relations with the increasingly authoritarian state
following independence, her fall from grace, imprisonment, and eventual ‘ re-
habilitation ’ in , are disturbing, but important, chapters of the story of
Tanzanian nationalism.
This is an important work for Tanzanian history, but also for the methodology
of oral history. Geiger’s interviews were gathered over a period of ten years, when
major transformations were taking place in the Tanzanian state and its leadership
structure, economic circumstances and the international political context. The
questions Geiger asks of her informants, such as whether their expectations of
TANU from the s were realized in the post-colonial state, have different
meanings depending on the timing of the interview, who was present (such as
neighbors, family or party functionaries), and who was asking the questions. The
reader is often left wondering how these women’s responses to questions from the
s would differ if asked in the mid-s.
The book’s strength is that it exposes the shifting historical ground which is the
context for oral history, and in so doing makes the life-history approach to writing
history a ‘ relationship between the present and the past ’ (p. ) rather than a
static, immutable truth. Geiger is not just interested in a revised, corrective meta-
narrative. This book is about the process and circumstances of remembering and
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recording the past as much as about finding the cultural context for the shaping of
Tanzanian nationalism.
Urban Forms and Colonial Confrontations : Algiers under French Rule. By Z
Ç. Berkeley and London : University of California Press, . Pp. .
£. ( ---).
The aim of Zeynep Çelik’s study is to ‘ look at Algiers as the site of colonial
policies, based on an understanding that architecture and urban forms are key
players in definitions of culture and identity ’ (p. ). More precisely, she seeks to
study government housing policies in Algiers as a fundamental aspect of cultural
imperialism. To decide how the Algerian people should live by organizing their
space, not only the general planning of cities but also their living quarters, is indeed
a direct way of dominating their lives through their mental and physical
environment. In this regard Algiers is an interesting case-study because it
developed into a major North African city during more than a century of French
colonial rule, and its status as a settler colony greatly affected town planning.
The book is organized chronologically. The first chapter deals with the old city,
the site of early colonial intervention in the nineteenth century when there was no
concern about preserving local architecture or urban forms. Algeria was admin-
istered by the military until , and their agenda was defense ; Algiers was
initially planned not for Algerians but for expatriates and as a symbol of power.
The second chapter offers a general survey of town planning policy, including
the first plan in by Euge' ne de Redon, the master plan approved in
designed by Henri Prost (the famous architect and town-planner who worked in
Morocco), and the plan d ’urbanisme of . As often occurred in the colonial
context, more projects were proposed than actually implemented due to lack of
political will and financial means.
The three last chapters form the core of the study ; they explore public housing
policy, a term that the author does not use but which seems appropriate. Here the
author traces the influence on policy of the rural ‘ indigenous house ’ (ch. ) as
described by ethnologists, a model which was not suitable for the cities. The work
of several female researchers emphasized the role of women and their specific
spaces, although their findings generated a stereotyped image of local housing and
implied a static view of the gendered use of space.
The discussion of general housing policy (ch. ) is divided into several phases.
After a long period of non-intervention in the nineteenth century, the first citeT s
indigeZ nes, influenced by hygienic theories, were built in the s. In the s,
both as a response to demographic growth and in an effort to reconcile the
Algerians with French power, major new projects were launched, first under
Mayor Chevallier (–), and later with the implementation of the Plan de
Constantine (–). Finally, the author provides detailed analyses of numerous
other housing projects, notably by Fernand Pouillon and Roland Simounet.
Despite the amount of fascinating and useful information in this book, this
reader would have welcomed further exploration of certain aspects of the topic. For
example, far more plans and building projects were proposed than implemented ;
one would like to know much more about the process of decision-making, both in
Algiers and in Paris. Little is said about the structure of local government or the
participation in it of Algerians, a portion of whom had reformist ideas. The
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Algerian population is largely portrayed as homogenous and is surprisingly absent
from a study which focuses on housing for Algerians. The examination of how
housing was used to separate Europeans from Algerians, both aesthetically and
spatially (different architectural styles, different districts) is certainly an innovative
perspective, but the book does not provide any general sense of the city, the spatial
disposition of its population or its patterns of segregation.
Although this book fits into the recent trend of studies on colonial cities and
gives some inspiring new insights, the author only refers in passing to similar
studies (e.g. on Morocco). Reference to comparative material on French West
Africa, Indochina or the West Indies would have shown that the idea of building
policy started generally in the s, and for similar reasons : to appeal to members
of the middle class at a time of expected political turmoil. Even more funda-
mentally, the policy implemented in Algiers should have been situated more
directly in a general context : the birth of urban planning in the second half of the
nineteenth century in Europe, the transition from military to civil administration
which saw the passing from defence imperatives to privileges for the settlers, and
lack of interest for the Algerian population.
The author extends her reflections to the post-independence period to stress the
continuity of policy, sometimes with the same architects. She gives a detailed
overview of housing policies over three decades and provides useful examples of
how colonial policies influenced the metropole.
The book is well illustrated, with illustrations, pictures and maps ; it is a
valuable contribution to the field and will be of interest to specialists as well as to
those generally interested in colonial policy.
C O L O N I A L A N D P O S T C O L O N I A L A B I D J AN
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positions. At moments of crisis, successful urbanites emerged as the ones who
mobilized a tightly knit network of family, friends, and clients who would testify
to such a reputation. Finally, Le Pape engages in deconstructing an analytical
category used by colonial and postcolonial statistics, le meT nage (household). His
field research shows that the notion does not take into account the separation
between men and women, and fails to understand how powerful communities were
elaborated around the economic and social autonomy built by women, even
married ones. Statistics also do not recover a crucial aspect of urban experience,
one that consumed important amounts of social ‘ energy ’ from city residents : the
unavoidable public nature of their life.
The last chapters (ch. to ) analyze the contemporary economic crisis that
began in the late s. In , per cent of Co# te d’Ivoire’s population lived in
extreme poverty. By , thie figure had increased to per cent. The ratio
remains much smaller in Abidjan, demonstrating that the city still stands as a
refuge during periods of economic hardship. Nonetheless, the capital has been hit
by the crisis. Le Pape reflects on long-term trends such as the increasing number
of polynuclear families, and the consistent decline of wage-earners positions. As a
result, men appear as the social category most affected by the crisis. Less engaged
in wage-earning positions, and more in petty trade and artisanat, women now
manage to capture an increasing role in urban economics. The book concludes by
examining the rise of new public sentiments in the mid-s : first, the emergence
of a new concept of national identity that increasingly portrays aliens, in a
xenophobic fashion, as a single category. Second, the author discusses the new
rupture between rich and poor people. During times of prosperity, the success
story of Co# te d’Ivoire was based on a model of enrichment as a shared social myth
linking higher and lower classes. Higher classes were seen as models, and their
strategies of economic accumulation as possible paths for everyone’s success. In
the s, the dominant perception among middle and lower classes is that of an
irrecoverable gap between rich and the poor. Interestingly, Le Pape argues that
Ivoriens remain strongly attached to social and political stability, and still believe
in economic mobility. The endurance of the Ivory Coast model is suggested by the
relatively bloodless and quiet war of succession following President Houphouet-
Boigny’s death in , and by the lack of violent protests after the devaluation of
the CFA franc in .
Le Pape’s use of life stories, and his focus on practical strategies of urban actors
is much in the vein of the new sociology inaugurated by Claudine Vidal’s,
Sociologie des passions (Paris: ). However, his analysis lacks solidity and scope.
Chapter for example, on the regulation of labour in the s, is only pages
long, and fails to place administrative policies in larger perspective. This short
book, had it been more firmly developed, could have been an important one.
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growth and development. Her edited collection is intended as a corrective, setting
out to ‘ present all areas of women’s lives as central to an understanding of urban
Africa ’ and to ‘ take a gendered approach to the process of urbanization ’ (p. ).
The book certainly contains a huge amount of data about the experiences of
women in urban Africa. As a text in English, there is perhaps an inevitable bias
towards Anglophone states, but there are also chapters on Senegal (Antoine and
Nanitelamio), Zaire (Schoepf) and Cameroon (Beat Songue). There is an extensive
(though not exhaustive) bibliography compiled by Sheldon, as well as detailed
references at the end of each chapter. Sheldon’s introduction is a valuable
bibliographic survey, which situates the geographically-specific chapters within
the broader literature from across the continent. The introduction also sets out
Sheldon’s organising principle of four aspects to women’s involvement in urban
Africa : migration, courtyards (family), markets (economy) and city streets (pol-
itical activism). Above all, the introduction demonstrates the heterogeneity of
women’s experiences of urbanization, showing, for example, that in Ghana, urban
women prefer to remain single than marry an unsatisfactory partner, while in
Senegal, they want to marry at all costs. Despite its claims to the contrary, the
introduction shows that there are few, if any, common patterns to women’s urban
experiences across the continent, beyond the broadest shared context of struggle
between men and women.
There is, however, a difficulty with the book’s claim to take a gendered approach
to the process or urbanization. This claim implies that the book will demonstrate
how women have shaped, or are shaping, the urban environment, and its economy,
society, and geography. Questions of process must consider not only how, but why,
women have affected the urban spaces, and the urban spaces have affected women.
The most successful essays deal effectively with this question of interaction
between gender and urbanization. The explicit focus on the historical process of
urbanization in the section on ‘ migration ’ lends itself to insights into how and why
gender issues interact with urban environments. Robertson, for example, writing
on Nairobi, demonstrates how it was as much the attempt to keep women out of
town, as the presence of women in the towns, which shaped the social, economic
and political life of the city. Moreover, the attack on women shifted from a
question of control over women’s sexuality to a question of control over their
economic activities as the urban environment changed. A similar dialectic is seen
in Coles’ essay on Hausa women in Kaduna, which highlights how women have
defined the imagined community of the town ; these definitions are to some extent
shared by men and women, and have changed over time as women have found new
ways to live in, and recreate, the city.
This dialectic between town and gender is seen in few of the other essays. In the
section on markets, Osirim shows how women are forming the urban economy in
Harare and Bulawayo, and the chapter works well both as urban study and as
gender study. Hansen’s chapter on civil courts in Lusaka demonstrates how
urbanization has influenced ‘ traditional ’ family forms, and shows women taking an
active part in reshaping the experience of marriage for both urban men and urban
women. It provides an interesting contrast with Nauright’s piece on Alexandra
Township outside Johannesburg, where women’s agency in preserving municipal
rights, and the very existence of the township as part of the city, is explained in part
by the urban setting itself, which facilitated women’s networking and co-operation.
By contrast, Hansen shows that conflicts between women were exacerbated by the
urban setting. Both essays demonstrate a sensitivity to the dialectic between gender
and urban environment, while highlighting that there is no common female urban
experience, even within sub-regions of the continent.
Other essays are much less successful in this respect. Antoine and Nanitelamio’s
chapter on polygyny in Dakar, like Hansen’s essay, examines the reforming of
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‘ traditional ’ family forms in the urban environment, although the urban aspect is
almost incidental. Similarly, the otherwise excellent piece by Schoepf on AIDS in
Kinshasa is set in town, but the urban environment is not explicitly part of the
explanatory framework. Tripp’s chapter on women’s political activism in East
Africa is extremely interesting, but urban issues do not appear in the essay at all.
It is no criticism of these less successful essays to suggest that they tell us little
about the interaction between gender and urbanization. It seems a pity, though,
that some of them may be overlooked as ‘ urban studies ’ when they are making
valuable contributions in other fields, such as medical or political studies. Overall,
the collection is undoubtedly valuable as a resource on many aspects of female
urban experience. As an argument about the gendered process of urbanization,
however, it too often fails to live up to its promise.
P R O P E R T Y, P O L I T I C S A N D H I S T O R Y
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consistent with the findings of a quantification of different categories of stool
income and expenditure during this decade : the fact that she has attempted this
tricky exercise is itself valuable. In the s, she argues, the settlement in Akyem
Abuakwa was dissolved by the CPP, which reinforced the insecurity of property
rights nationwide. Nkrumah’s party had achieved political control but used it in
ways that undermined rather than guaranteed property rights. Firmin-Sellers
offers a useful account, framed in terms of path-dependence, of how the stages of
constitution-building which the British and the CPP’s more conservative op-
ponents went through during – established some of the mechanisms for a
dominant central government which were then taken over by Nkrumah.
The general argument is interesting and suggestive, but as yet is too slight
empirically to be convincing. Firmin-Sellers has used colonial and (in Akyem
Abuakwa) chieftaincy archives, but with major gaps. In particular, there is no
reference to provincial or district records, whether administrative or judicial, and
none to the rich unofficial collection of papers in Rhodes House. Perhaps because
of this, the author seems to have lacked the access to detailed correspondence and
minutes that would have helped avoid a tendency to assert rather than to document
motive or ignorance on the part of colonial officials. A recurrent theme is
information : Firmin-Sellers argues that the colonial government, lacking ‘ the
most basic information about the African populations ’ (p. ), and unwilling to
pay the costs of gathering the information itself, relied on the chiefs : but this
control of information gave the chiefs, above all Ofori Atta, the chance to
manipulate colonial officials. Up to a point such a view of indirect rule is almost
unexceptionable. But by the period with which the author is concerned, it is
questionable whether the British were really without ‘ the most basic information ’ :
the adjectives are not defined, but under perhaps the most obvious definitions such
data were published in Cardinall’s The Gold Coast, (n.d., but c. ), which
is not cited. Again, while it is well established that the colonial government
essentially backed Ofori Atta against his African opponents, it is not clear – and the
book does not demonstrate – that this was out of any lack of information about
alternatives. The author seems to overlook the fact that colonial government
contacts with African subjects were far from confined to paramount chiefs, as an
examination of district commissioners’ diaries and correspondence would show.
Again, the British had only to read the Cape Coast press to gain access to the views
of Ofori Atta’s critics. More generally, Kobina Sekyi was scarcely a slouch at
making his positions known. If the British preferred Ofori Atta’s position, their
choice may have been informed ; to test this, one could examine the relevant
papers.
While plausibly rejecting simple economic determination of institutional change,
the author is rather uncritical about the reverse relationship ; she assumes that
institutional phenomena have determinate economic consequences – specifically,
that insecure property rights seriously inhibited productive investment. For Accra,
this claim is left precisely as an assumption, no evidence being given about the level
of investment (p. ). Similarly, the discussion of Akyem Abuakua does not
confront the fact that the cocoa take-off of the s–s had occurred within
what, on the author’s account, was presumably an insecure property rights regime.
Even more strikingly, the second great boom in Ghanaian cocoa planting, in the
mid- and late-s, took place precisely when – as Firmin-Sellers argues – such
insecurity was being reinforced. These apparent paradoxes may be capable of
resolution, but I suggest that this would require an examination of the detailed
evolution of land tenure, something which does not fit into a volume whose
empirical content is mainly about politics, local and national.
Firmin-Sellers’s book is important for its promising conceptual framework,
which is used to suggest some interesting conclusions. The empirical work shows
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ingenuity but is limited by its own brevity, in pages, and probably in years. A
thorough test of the potential of the framework and of the validity of the
conclusions requires historical research on a scale perhaps greater than was
permitted by contemporary institutional constraints.
Multi-Party Politics in Kenya : The Kenyatta and Moi States and the Triumph of
the System in the Election. By D T and C H.
Oxford : James Currey, Nairobi : E.A.E.P., and Athens : Ohio University Press.
Pp. xj. £., paperback ( ---).
Why do multi-party elections not necessarily constitute democracy ? When do
ethnic differences become dangerous ? How may economic liberalization threaten
political stability or democratization ? Such questions preoccupy scholars of
African politics, a domain enlivened during the s by a resurgence of multi-
party politics and pressures to ‘ democratize ’. Kenya’s crucial turning point was its
election, the country’s first multi-party contest since the s. David
Throup and Charles Hornsby’s volume offers an extraordinarily detailed account
of that event.
The authors demonstrate a superb command of constituency politics, candidates’
biographies, and the jealousies, rivalries, and day-to-day changes of political
fortune that underwrite Kenya’s lively factional politics. After briefly discussing
the independence struggle, the Kenyatta state, and the pre- Moi state, the
authors devote pages (five-sixths of the book) to the period from January
to December . Chapter themes include the Moi regime in crisis, the rise and
fall of the opposition, ruling party repression, the electoral process, the campaign,
party primary elections, polling day events, and election results (including a -
page district-by-district analysis of apparent electoral malpractices, which inflated
the size of the ruling party’s parliamentary majority but did not affect the
presidency). Detailed appendices present constituency vote totals for primary,
parliamentary and presidential contests. Completed before Kenya’s multi-
party election (when Moi was re-elected). The book also includes a postscript on
– politics, election predictions and an appendix of – by-election
results. The authors draw largely on Kenyan newspapers and news journals,
reports of election observer groups, and their own interviews with political and
business elites.
A conclusion familiar to those who follow African politics is that the return
of multipartyism in Kenya did not produce democracy (p. ). Instead multi-
party politics brought continued autocratic rule, state-sponsored ‘ ethnic ’ violence,
widespread voter registration irregularities, electoral fraud, denial of media
coverage and of public speaking opportunities to opposition politicians, abductions
and harassment of opposition candidates, and financial scandals. Whatever the
election outcome, the ruling party (Kenya African National Union or
KANU) had no intention of relinquishing power. The news, however, is not
entirely gloomy ; the authors suggest that the multi-party competition forced
the ruling party to ‘ rebuild its mass support ’ and brought it ‘ closer to the
grassroots ’ (p. ).
The composition of the political elite changed little, but democratization
‘ broadened political and social freedoms in Kenya significantly, and empowered a
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lively and controversial press, although this has come under sustained attack ’ (p.
). Daunting economic problems remain, and the authors suggest that the
economic instability neoliberal reforms create may eventually end KANU rule by
destroying the party’s patron-client political system. To rebuild the economy,
incentives must be offered to Kikuyu cash crop production, rewarding regions and
ethnic groups that have opposed the Moi regime.
The controversial issue of ethnicity lies at the centre of Throup and Hornsby’s
analysis. Ethnicity, they argue, is the ‘ most powerful force in Kenyan politics ’ (p.
) ; personalities and ethnic loyalties override ideology or class (p. ) and
opportunism eclipses principle (p. ). Ethnicity is a particularly sensitive issue
in Kenya, where a parliamentary inquiry into the so-called ethnic clashes
concluded that the ruling party had sponsored ‘ ethnic ’ conflict in order to
persuade citizens of the inevitability of such violence under multi-party rule (and
to remove presumed opposition voters from key constituencies).
Ethnic concerns have prompted reconsideration of possible forms of power-
sharing and decentralization or federalism (though the latter is associated with
incendiary rhetorics of majimboism and ethnic cleansing in the early s). Other
reformers call for attention to malapportioned parlimentary constituency bound-
aries, which underrepresent some opposition strongholds and overrepresent
sparsely-populated rural areas loyal to the ruling party. Throup and Hornsby do
not urge any particular constitutional reforms that would address ethnic politics.
Indeed, it is not always clear to what extent they believe ethnic cleavages are a
reversion to a ‘ natural ’ or primordial condition, as opposed to malleable identities
shaped historically by colonial and post-colonial political systems, and sometimes
accentuated by repressive ruling party strategies to retain power.
This decade’s momentous political changes in Africa have inspired scholars such
as Michael Bratton, John Harbeson, Richard Joseph and Nicolas Van de Walle to
rethink earlier theories of democratization. Curiously, Throup and Hornsby’s
book appears to disregard the vast scholarly literature on comparative democrat-
ization or theories of democratic transition and consolidation. Their volume is
surprisingly silent as well on most of the historical and social science literature on
Kenya.
This rich case study’s great strength lies in its authors’ impressive command of
day-to-day Kenyan politics and in its sheer mass of meticulous details – though
these may overpower readers who are new to the topic. Interested readers who
have some knowledge of Kenya will find this account engaging and usefully
encyclopedic.
Inventing Masks : Agency and History in the Art of the Central Pende. By Z. S.
S. Chicago : University of Chicago Press, . Pp. xxviij. $.
( ---).
Since the academic study of African art took off in the s, new and often
controversial ideas have succeeded one another with increasing rapidity. Funda-
mentally, the critical process has been dedicated to breaking down the century-old
concept of Primitive Art, which defines it by contrast with Fine Art. Talk about
Art is in effect part of the political struggle to define civilization, to defend or
oppose relations of dominance within and between societies. Unlike Fine Art,
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Primitive Art was supposedly the work of anonymous artisans, compelled by
collective ancestral tradition and therefore lacking in creative genius, whose
products, intended for religious purposes, could only be recognized as Art by
enlightened and discriminating foreign collectors. Zoe$ Strother’s study of the
masks made and used by the Pende in the southwestern part of the Democratic
Republic of Congo goes far towards the complete demolition of this condescending
view. It is one of a number of excellent recent studies which take the study of ‘ art ’
out of the museum and into the field. Innovative methods enable the author to
propose a precolonial history of Pende art.
Strother begins with the question of authorship : who invents masks ? For the
Pende, a mask is above all a dance with a theme. One invents a song, then develops
a dance to go with it, and a suitable name. Then the rhythm is worked out with
expert drummers. Finally, a sculptor is asked to make an appropriate face-piece for
the costume, an object which later may become a museum’s ‘ Pende mask ’.
Inventors are usually young men eager to make a name for themselves ; elders who
invented a famous mask are anxious (even after death) that it not be forgotten.
Mask themes include representations of personality types or situations that have
caught the imagination. Pende believe that the sexes have distinctly different
personalities reflected in their faces, and therefore in male and female masks.
Sculpture is judged by how well it abstracts from the ‘ real ’ appearance of persons
to express ontological truths by the treatment of eyes, forehead, chin and other
features. ‘ It was the sculptor’s task to give the audience a perfected vision in which
movement and inner character were stamped on the face through his mastery of
physiognomic theory’ (p. ). Strother compares Pende physiognomy with the
parallels nineteenth-century European thought established between human types
and animal species and concludes that both systems serve powerfully ‘ to
naturalize social and cultural difference by making it seem innate, inalienable and
inevitable ’ (p. ).
The mask costume as a whole is intended to enhance, visually and acoustically,
the dancer’s movement. Pende pay great attention to gestures, hairstyle and bodily
form, all considered indicative of degrees of panache. Distinguished performers go
to great trouble and expense to acquire the right kind of foot-rattles to accent the
rhythm ; three different kinds of rattle are each proper to different kinds of mask.
‘ Any dancer or musician, blindfolded, is able to identify a mask by the sound of
its foot rattles alone ’ (p. ).
A great mask, like great plays in western theater, ‘ elicits reinvention ’, without
which it would disappear. Strother compares masks to popular television pro-
grammes, which are shaped by, even in anticipation of, audience reaction. In the
process of reinvention, masks, like folksongs, gradually take on classical qualities
of perfection. In their journeys across time and space, the facepiece, costume, name
and other elements may change, but the fact that the dance remains the same
enables Strother to conclude that formally different face-pieces, which would
normally be regarded as different masks, in fact belong to the same genre. She goes
on to identify the oldest masks by their distribution in different parts of the country
which have had different political histories, and finds that although many masks
nowadays are primarily regarded as entertainment, the oldest were means of
facilitating communication with the dead.
During the colonial period a revolutionary category of masks appeared, intro-
duced by the first age-grades of men to experience the colonial system of forced
labour. Unlike the more traditional masks, these took the form of frightening
apparitions. They show that the colonial occupation was experienced as a sorcery
attack that threatened to destroy every decency of life and ‘ witness to a real fear of
annihilation ’ brought on by the demands of tax collectors, labour recruiters,
medical officers, merchants, missionaries and agricultural monitors.
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This is an original and many-sided work of unusual historical depth which
manages to relate close visual critique of the art forms both to the creative process
and to the values and practices of everyday life.
H Y P O T H E S ES
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Bamana, and have no etymological connection. SıZ (not ci) means a ceremony taking
place at night ; in its verbal usages, it also means ‘ to pass the night ’ (asleep or
awake, depending on context). Thus, fuZ ra sıZ means a nocturnal ceremony,
preceding any of the above rituals. In the Beledugu only, sıf fuZ ra refers to a
ceremony held by women in the earlier part of the night to celebrate an abundant
shea-nut harvest ; bilingual informants invariably translate this term as ‘ le mariage
du karite! ’ (‘ the shea nut’s wedding ’). (Sıf , meaning a shea nut or tree, carries a
rising tone, and is therefore distinct from the previous sıZ , which has a low tone).
Brett-Smith’s misinterpretation of the expression fuZ ra sıZ not only weakens her
discussion of Bamana ideas about sexuality and reproduction, but calls into
question the specific analogies she draws among the blacksmith’s varied activities
(excision [which, she believes, was often performed by men of this status] ; wood
carving ; and the fabrication of agricultural implements). Inexplicably, to, the
staple millet paste food, is spelled tot throughout the book.
Brett-Smith presents several folk etymologies that I have never encountered in
the field, and that were denied, upon inquiry, by my informants. In her own
interpretations of the etymologies and deeper meanings of Bamana words, Brett-
Smith seems to proceed by focusing on just a few of the varied meanings of each
word, and occasionally confuses unrelated words. Given the wide meaning range
of certain Bamana words, and the fact that they do not map easily onto the semantic
categories of English and other Western European languages, it is possible to prove
almost anything using this method. Consider, for example, the case of jigin, a word
that appears in Brett-Smith’s book with the meanings of ‘ to descend ’ and ‘ to give
birth ’, but that is not extensively analyzed. The word’s meanings also include : to
reveal (the Koran) ; to memorize (especially an Arabic book) ; and to manifest itself
(said of the masks of certain initiation societies). Nevertheless, Muslim informants
would surely deny that the revelation of the Koran to the Prophet Muhammad was
in any way like a birth, nor does it necessarily follow (though the possibility may
be worth investigating) that some persons perceive an analogy between memoriz-
ation of the Koran and the initial revelation, or between the Koranic revelation and
some masquerades. Quite probably, the only element of meaning common to all
the above uses of jigin is that of a (literal or metaphorical) change of position.
A penultimate point. Brett-Smith repeatedly implies that she is continuing the
research tradition inaugurated by Marcel Griaule and Germaine Dieterlen ; she
stresses that, like them, she privileges the statements of several exceptionally
knowledgeable informants. However, it must be noted that, whatever its other
shortcomings, Marcel Griaule’s and Germaine Dieterlen’s work on the Dogon was
based on – and presents – the results of interviews with a large number of
informants; clearly identifies all informants; involved long-term personal relation-
ships with key informants; and was not based on systematic mistranslation, though
it may well contain some errors (more excusable in the context of the s to
s than in that of the s to s).
In conclusion, Sarah Brett-Smith has presented us with several hypotheses.
However, given the weakness of her fieldwork methods, each of her findings will
have to be independently corroborated before it is accepted.
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SHORTER NOTICES
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evading the complexity and contested nature of the issues, though some (including,
oddly, some of the best) lack footnotes which might direct an interested reader to
further literature. For those interested specifically in the history of Africa, the most
useful will probably be Patrick Manning’s treatment of ‘ The impact of the slave
trade on the societies of West and Central Africa ’. (By comparison, Mary Modupe
Kolawole’s ‘ An African view of transatlantic slavery ’ is more idiosyncratic than
synthetic, and tangential to the central concerns of the historiography.) Standards
of detailed accuracy are in general high, though one page (p. ) contrives to
combine a number of mis-statements within two brief paragraphs on the history of
Dahomey, including attributing the conquest of that kingdom in to the
Germans rather than the French and crediting its ‘ Amazon ’ army with repelling
hitherto undocumented earlier military ‘ incursions from … European slave-
traders ’.
Both the essays and the exhibition begin with the origins of trans-Atlantic
slavery in the rise of the European Atlantic empires from the fifteenth century (the
easy, another excellent one, by David Richardson). This is, historically, fair
enough ; but from the point of view of an exhibition directed to a wider public it
has the disadvantage of leaving the specificity of the trans-Atlantic slave trade, by
comparison with other (both earlier and contemporary) slave trades, unclear. It is
not until page , in a contribution by Preston King, that the reader is offered an
explicit attempt to define ‘ slavery ’ in general, and American ‘ chattel slavery ’ as
opposed to other (including African) forms of the institution ; and the definition of
‘ chattel slavery ’ then offered (as involving the denial of ‘ all legal or civic rights ’)
does not seem all that helpful. The Merseyside Maritime Museum is nevertheless
to be commended for its honesty and courage in confronting such a politically
sensitive and intellectually controversial subject, and for its success in involving a
number of our academic colleagues in the sort of project of ‘ popularization ’ of
historical knowledge which is as essential as it is generally (in the Anglophone
world, at least) neglected by professional historians.
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Thierno Bah, Martin Njeuma and Yvette Monga among others – discuss the
political and institutional difficulties of establishing a nationalist history in a
country where the pre-colonial heritage stretches from the decentralised societies
of the equatorial forest to the Islamic states of the Sahel, where colonial rule was
both British and French, and where the most important event of the late colonial
period – the UPC rebellion – long remained a taboo subject for research, let alone
integration into the national heritage.
The publication of these papers performs a valuable service in providing
information on the trials and tribulations of francophone African historians and
their institutions ; that they largely reveal widespread frustration and stagnation
should give historians in the west pause.
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Histoire de la Grande Isle Madagascar. Par E! D F. Edition
pre! sente! e et annote! e par C A. Paris : E! ditions Karthala et
INALCO, . Pp. . No price given, paperback ( ---).
As Claude Allibert points out in his introduction to this re-edition of a book first
published in , there are still many documents on the earlier history of
Madagascar waiting to be discovered, or at least to be systematically exploited by
historians (p. ). By the same token, there is a great deal to be discovered about
the early history of Madagascar (and no doubt other parts of Africa) by a careful
re-reading of some early travellers’ accounts, especially if they are edited with
attention to the minutiae of the text and original maps and illustrations, due regard
for the early orthography of proper names, and so forth. Such is the case with this
new edition of the history of Madagascar written by E! tienne de Flacourt, the
governor of a French colony at the southern tip of the island, who lived in
Madagascar from to and died at sea, en route to Madagascar, in .
Flacourt’s text has long been well-known to scholars of Madagascar. Twice
published in the seventeenth century, reprinted as part of a nine-volume anthology
by Grandidier peZ re et fils in , it has been widely used, and sometimes
plagiarised, by other writers. But these earlier editions of Flacourt have become
difficult to find. It is thus most welcome to have a new edition, and even more so
one presented with such meticulous scholarship as this version which contains an
introductory essay of -odd pages, pages of notes and bibliography, and no
less than six indexes. The introduction alone constitutes an important essay on
Madagascar’s place in the maritime history of the seventeenth century. M. Allibert
is to be congratulated on an achievement which must have taken years of
painstaking toil.
The book which Flacourt wrote after his return to France was divided into two
parts, one dealing with the history, geography, ethnography and flora and fauna of
Madagascar, the second dealing with the troubled history of the settlement at Fort
Dauphin which he governed on behalf of the Compagnie des Indes. The whole is
a mine of information. Flacourt is a major source on the early history of royal
dynasties in Madagascar, most notably the ZafiRaminia, and also of ethnographic
data. His book also constitutes a major source for those interested in environmental
history, and, of course, for historians of French maritime endeavour.
Slave Captain : The Career of James Irving in the Liverpool Slave Trade. Edited,
with an introduction, by S S. Wrexham, Clwyd : Bridge Books,
. Pp. . £., paperback ( ---).
Slave Captain relates the story of Captain James Irving, a Scot in the Liverpool
slave trade, who, along with ten crew (including his cousin and namesake), was
shipwrecked and enslaved in Morocco for months in –. While in
captivity, Irving wrote a ,-word journal of his experiences, a transcription of
which was deposited anonymously in the Lancashire Record Office in .
Suzanne Schwarz reproduces this manuscript in section two, and corroborates its
details through careful examination of shipping documents, the Irvings’ personal
correspondence and Foreign Office papers in the Public Record Office relating to
British attempts to negotiate their freedom. The letters regarding Captain Irving’s
slave-trade career and his later African captivity are reproduced in section three.
Schwarz’s introduction first places Irving’s career in the context of the late
eighteenth-century British slave trade. We learn that Irving worked as surgeon on
five Liverpool slave voyages before attaining command of a small slaving schooner
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in . After surviving his ordeal in Morocco, Irving shipped out again as captain
and died in on the Middle Passage. His letters to his wife report only small
details of trade on the coast of Africa and in the Americas. More interesting are his
views of slaving as an ‘ unnatural accursed trade ’ and African captives as a ‘ very
disagreeable cargo ’ and ‘ intolerably noisy ’ ‘ black cattle ’ (pp. –, –).
An examination of the shipwreck and captivity follows. Schwarz recounts how
Irving and crew were separated when purchased by nomadic slave-traders,
probably Sunni Muslims, who weighted the costs of keeping the sailors alive
against the profits to be made by ransom. (Here a more detailed map plotting the
captives’ journeys would have been useful). The British consulate at Mogodore
(Essaouira, Morocco) negotiated with the Emperor of Morocco on behalf of the
Christian prisoners but, as Schwarz discusses effectively, efforts were hampered by
political intrigues within the sultanate and British–Moroccan disputes over trade.
The release of the crew occurred suddenly ; Schwarz is unable to offer a full
explanation of this action, though she believes that the ‘ persistence of diplomatic
endeavour undoubtedly played a part ’ (p. ).
This reviewer would have welcomed more analysis on the systems of slavery in
Africa and on the marketing of European (Christian) slaves in the Islamic\Arabic
world. Further, the weakness of the British position vis-a' -vis the North African
states is a topic worth exploring. A reasonably-priced and well-written book, Slave
Captain is the account of a slave-ship captain who was ‘ enslaved ’ in Africa and
unaware of the irony of his situation.
Harvard University .
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shared Graf’s belief that the ‘ rules of the road ’ operated for the sole benefit of
‘ landlords ’. Yet Graf’s lengthy justifications of his own methods (he had little to
report on the evangelical front) provide uncommonly vivid insights into the
practical application of contemporary African protocols of travel, and signal their
importance in the commercial and political life of a region that had become deeply
involved in the Atlantic trade long before the nineteenth century.
La reT pression de la traite des Noirs au XIX e sieZ cle : L’action des croisieZ res françaises
sur les coV tes occidentales de l’Afrique (–
). Par S D. Paris :
E! ditions Karthala, . Pp. . FF , paperback ( ---).
This posthumous publication, based on a thesis, now somewhat ab-
breviated, has appeared partly as a tribute to a distinguished historian of the later
stages of the Atlantic slave trade, who himself spent time editing the census of
French slavers assembled by Jean Mettas, another historian who also died
prematurely. Daget deals courageously and doggedly with a subject delicate for a
French historian. After Waterloo, the terms of peace pushed France into measures
against the slave trade. From , a French navel fleet operated off western
Africa, ostensibly to help to suppress the trade, but in actuality, up to at least the
s, more to hold off British seizure of French slavers. Repression was regarded
in Paris as another trick of perfidious Albion, laid on in order to damage French
economic interests in Africa. Hence, support for naval action against slave ships
was deliberately weak and devious. Only slowly was effective legislation enacted.
‘ L’e! goı$ sme national prime et la cause des ne' gres dans tout cela paraı# t bien
lointaine ’ (p. ) – so the editor in his preface summarises Daget’s argument.
While the validity of the claim is better left to French historians to assess, the
exhaustive detail supplied by Daget about the period’s illegal or dubiously legal
French slaving voyages contains much of direct interest to African historians.
On relevant sections of the coast, such as Sierra Leone and the Niger delta,
unpublished sources in French and British archives are lavishly cited. Some
voyages are described in detail ; while in general, what can be quantified is counted
and presented in tables. A certain amount is learned about some of the African
polities of the coast, their trading elites and their reactions to intensifying
European contacts. Anglo-French rivalry produced one minor benefit for students
of the pre- Guinea coast who are attempting to identify localities and
toponyms. The early close mapping of the Guinea coast by the Hydrographic
Section of the British navy, resulting in the African Pilot as well as a series of
standard charts, was rapidly followed up and challenged by French naval
hydrographers, notably Boue$ t-Willaumez, who published his Description nautique
in . However, the immediate effect of the rivalry was to determine to some
extent the pattern of subsequent colonial expansion – not merely that West Africa
would be divided between Britain and France but that each would gain favoured
places on the coast. Daget concludes by pointing out that humanitarian sentiments
eventually overcame diplomatic and economic constraints, but did so only by the
acceptance of the view that to enslave Africans was to practise the barbarity of the
Africans themselves, from which they could only be positively relieved by the
mission civilisatrice of colonial rule.
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