During the twentieth century, the ‘death celebration’ became arguably the most important cultural event throughout much of the Western Grassfields of Cameroon. The growth of this ritual festival occurred in the context of major political, economic and religious changes in the Grassfields. This article will focus on how religious changes, particularly the growth of Christianity, contributed to the rise of this event and how it has prompted significant changes in notions and practices concerning the pollution of death, personhood, burial rites and the ancestors. In the traditional hierarchical structure of Grassfields society, only certain titled individuals and chiefs were believed to live on after death and become ancestors. This was reflected in burial rituals. Individuals who became ancestors were buried in family compounds while ‘unimportant’ people were frequently disposed of in the ‘bush’, streams or hurriedly given unmarked burials. Christianity, because of its stress on individual personhood and its message of an afterlife for everyone, became an attractive alternative to established beliefs and practices, especially for young adults, women and those without titles, who were the most disenfranchised in the traditional system. With Christianity, burial rites became standardized and were extended to virtually everyone. Christianity also caused declines in notions of death ‘pollution’ and in beliefs about ‘bad deaths’. Because of continued beliefs in the power of ancestors, the egalitarian notions of personhood stimulated by Christianity have ironically created a ‘proliferation’ of ancestors for whom delayed mortuary rites such as ‘death celebrations’ are owed.

Vigilantism is a term often used to describe any form of policing and ordering that is non-state, and under analysis ‘vigilantism’ has often emerged as negative, associated with violence and violation of individual rights. However, a closer examination of the origin, practice, function and structure of some of the groups often referred to as vigilantes in Nigeria has revealed that not all of them fit into our understanding of vigilantes as gangs of youths that mete out violence and jungle justice to their victims. Some of these vigilantes have their roots in the community and are a preferred form of policing in Nigeria. Many such groups exist across the shari‘a states of northern Nigeria, drawing their legitimacy from different and sometimes competing sources: the Yan'banga from the Hausa traditional and communal establishment, the hisba from the religious establishment and the Yan'achaba from the political establishment. What can we say about the operation, structure and function of these various `vigilantes'? How is the politicking and struggle between religio-political and Hausa traditionalist elites shaping and reforming these three forms? What impact does this struggle have on women and the vulnerable? This article has two aims. One is to question the over-generalization associated with vigilantism in Nigeria by analysing one form of vigilantism – hisba – within the context of informal policing in Zamfara and Kano states. The other is to situate the issue of vigilantes within the northern Nigerian political context rather than within a simple moral framework that casts vigilantes as violent criminals.

En 1973, les mulsumans Dyula de la Côte d'Ivoire du nord, dans leurs quartiers de la ville de Korhogo ou dans les villages, écoutaient la radio et à l'occasion ils allaient voir un ‘western’ italien au cinéma. Latélévision était une rareté exotique, les cassettes étaient une nouveauté. Dès 1984, la télévision était devenu omniprésente; les ménages qui n'avaient pas été intéressé par la radio étaient maintenant enthusiastes à l'idée de regarder la télévision le soir. Les cassettes étaient devenues même plus populaires que la radio et celles-ci étaient piratées et copiées. Le passage de la radio et des films à la télévision et les cassettes avait fait mettre la religion davantage au premier plan des média électroniques. Pour les musulmans les cassettes religieuses consistaient de sermons ou de ‘récitations’ en dyula. Les sermons, fait en plein air et accompagné par des refraichisseents, sont des occasions festives, un spectacle où le public s'attend à être diverti. La forme du sermon a une resemblance frappante avec la récitation épique Mande et ces sermons sont enregistrés de volontiers par les personnes du public, pour les écouter comme divertissement; ils ne sont pas une commodité commerciale. Les sermons à la télévision, cependant, répondent à des exigences très différentes: le ‘show’; du jeudi soir a des ecclésiastiques orientéd vers le Saudi qui ne sont pas autorisés à radoter; le ‘show’ est rigidement scripté avec des horaires precis qu'ils doivent suivre; les ecclésiastiques lisent le texte plutôt que de le citer de mémoire, extempore. Malgré la division générationelle en ce qui concerne les gôuts et les styles, les deux genres coexistent toujours côte à côte—mais pour combien de temps?

The article introduces a themed section in the journal on hometown associations in Cameroon. It outlines the impact of ten years’ work in this field and argues that notions of autochthony remain central in understanding Cameroonian politics. However the three articles go on to argue that some of the claims about home, belonging and politics are difficult to reconcile with the hazier reality observed on the ground. The articles aim to disturb any universal, inevitable or overly tidy segue between questions of belonging and claims of political segmentation. Too often the existing literature moves too quickly to an analysis that foregrounds only the worrisome dimensions of a politics of belonging, thus leaving little space for other interpretations. To explore this dilemma the article continues by exploring a land dispute in Bali Nyonga, north-west Cameroon. It shows (1) how ideas of belonging remain central to the practice of politics; (2) how the politics of belonging has changed over time; and (3) how it is possible to foreground an alternative ‘politics of conviviality’, which would otherwise be shaded out by the dominance of the politics of belonging within the literature.

Given the important role played by lawyers in formal legal systems, the study of legal professionals can help us understand the efforts to maintain law and social order in Africa. This article examines the narratives of two Zimbabwean lawyers, Kennedy Sibanda and Honour Mkushi, about their experiences as legal professionals between 1970 and 1990, and makes three main arguments. Firstly, these narratives reveal the complex interplay between individual agency, politics and law across the two decades. Secondly, lawyers' participation in the social and political struggles of the period were informed by a set of personal and professional ethics that were grounded in concerns about the welfare of the wider communities to which they belonged. This highlights the need to avoid a default cynicism with regard to African elites and move instead towards a more nuanced understanding of the motives of such individuals and their contribution to the social, economic and political struggles of which they are a part. Lastly, these lawyers were cross-cultural brokers who were constantly involved in a two-way translation. On the one hand, they translated the concepts and stipulations of state law for their African clients; on the other, they translated their clients' grievances into the language of the law. This process of translation acted as a catalyst in the reshaping of African subjectivities and their conceptions of their relationship with the state, and enabled Africans to assert themselves as rights-bearing citizens.

This paper deals with certain aspects of a Christian congregation in a kingdom of southern Ghana, in particular its growth over the past 150 years and the part it plays in the lives of the people of the capital town of the state. Most studies of the development of Christianity in Africa deal with questions of religious ideology (especially that of the conflict between different systems of belief), of conversion, and of the growth of syncretist and separatist movements. Here I am concerned with the development of a Christian congregation that is neither syncretist nor separatist and with its place as one element of a total local religious system which includes other faiths. It is the local congregation of the Presbyterian Church of Ghana in the town of Akuropon, the capital of the eastern Akan kingdom of Akuapem, in the Akuapem Hills that lie some twenty-five miles north of Accra, the national capital. The state has a resident population of about 70,000 and the town one of some 6000. However, the number of people who, wherever they live, regard themselves as Akuroponfo, ‘people of Akuropon’, probably amounts to some 20,000. Those who live elsewhere return to the town when they can at weekends, Christmas, Easter, and the great annual purificatory festival of Odwira, held in September or October; and most hope finally to return to their ‘home-town’ (as it is known in Ghana) to be buried. Although not a large town, it is known widely as the seat of the main educational facilities of the Presbyterian Church since the arrival of the Basel Mission in the then Gold Coast in 1828. Due largely to this fact it has provided more than its share of political, educational and other leaders of Gold Coast and Ghanian society.

Over the past forty years, programmes intended to individualise rights to land have been introduced across Africa. These programmes are supported by an ideology which argues that individualisation is a necessary prerequisite of agricultural investment and development. Utilising data collected on the effects of the national title registration programme in Somalia, and drawing on similar studies of registration programmes in other African countries, this article challenges the assumption that individualisation and registration necessarily result in improved agricultural investment and productivity. On the contrary, the data reviewed here suggest that such programmes have contributed to concentration of ownership, growing landlessness, insecurity of tenure, wealth inequalities, and even declining productivity in many areas. The motivation behind individualisation and registration programmes is analysed, including an examination of the colonial and Western ideological distinction between African ‘communal’ land tenure and modern Western individualised tenure, struggles for power over control of resources, and a tendency to treat land tenure as solely an economic (rather than social) institution.

This paper examines how the way of life of a little known group of hunter–gatherers, the Waata Oromo, was brought to an end through British colonial wildlife conservation laws and the creation of national parks in Kenya. Through this policy and that of the containment of ethnic groups to ‘tribal reserves’, the Waata lost their place in the regional economic system and suffered loss of cultural identity. It also meant that when Kenya gained independence, the Waata were not recognised as a distinct entity with rights to their own political representation. Instead, they became appendages of the dominant pastoral groups with which they had been associated. They were thus doubly marginalised, in both economic and political terms. The paper describes how this situation has led some Waata in northern Kenya to claim separate ethnic status. It discusses the problem from the point of view of a Waata social activist and of an anthropologist. These two perspectives raise further issues for the etic/emic debate in anthropology.

This article compares and contrasts the development of the legal systems of two British colonies that occuped almost opposite ends of the colonial judicial continuum: what in colonial times were known as the Gold Coast and Basutoland. Both became British colonies in the late nineteenth century, but followed considerably different paths to that status. In the case of the Gold Coast it followed centuries of contact between Europeans and the coastal peoples in this area of West Africa. In the case of Basutoland incorporation into the European world was a nineteenth-century phenomenon and far more rapid. Nevertheless, at the turn of the century, as indirect rule became the officially accepted wisdom as to how colonial peoples should be ruled, administrators in both colonies sought to make the chiefly order an integral part of the colony's administration and award its chiefs judicial responsibilities. In the Gold Coast, however, chiefly courts remained in competition with a highly developed British-style Supreme Court. In Basutoland there were basically only chiefly courts until late in the colonial period, which applied Sesotho customary law that was written down as the Laws of Lerotholi in 1903. The two-tier judicial system of the Gold Coast allowed far more contestation and was far more flexible and responsive to social changes than was the case in Basutoland. Incremental changes over time meant that the judicial system evolved far more smoothly than in Basutoland. When in the latter colony changes did not come ‘from above’ in the 1940s, there was a serious outbreak of ‘medicine murders’ that many observers felt was directly related to the chiefs losing their judicial role. Also, the colony's high court ruled against the validity of the Laws of Lerotholi in the controversial ‘Regency case’. Apart from being a return to comparative analyses of the impact of colonial rule on former African colonies, much in vogue in the 1960s, this study is an attempt to modify the emphasis on ‘cleavage’ and the ‘coercive’ that has characterised historians' approach to the study of colonial law.

The article represents an overview of the activities of members of the géwél caste, or Wolof griots, in present-day Senegal. While seemingly little has changed in areas where traditional ways of life are still dominant, in the westernised urban culture many traditional artists have learned to cope with the use of mass media. Far from being threatened by extinction, traditional artists and historians have managed to adapt their art to the requirements of modern life and to make it accessible to a wider audience.

The article analyses the distinctiveness of magico-religious practices in the north-western sector of the vast Kongo cultural complex, namely among the peoples who refer to themselves as Vili and Yombe. On the basis of fieldwork and a critical examination of the sources, the article points out that such widely distributed terms of proto-Bantu origin as nkisi cannot be covered by a single or even a multi-stranded definition; the variants, ranging from spirit to object, express local and time-specific beliefs. An approach that seeks a single Kongo universe is an ethnographic, historical and linguistic misreading that obscures existing regional concepts while possibly overlooking the importance of other notions. The article focuses on sorting out the basic ethnographic data relating to the beliefs current in the region and reveals not only long-standing aspects, some of them common to the wider Kongo world, but also those that have developed more recently in this particular coastal zone where different peoples trade and interact.

This part issue of the journal Africa broadly explores the idea of frontiers and pioneers in the study of queer African lives. We envisage frontiers as exploring new openings in the study of sexuality by putting forward the practices and experiences of people across the African continent. We propose to study queerness as part of broader quotidian realities so as to further theorize the study of sexualities and queerness. We propose the term ‘pioneer’ for the interlocutors in our studies: (self-identifying) women, men and queerying persons who courageously explore contradictory paths in their various contexts. As such, we encourage an imaginative employment of queer as indicating a horizon of curiosity and imprecision. In making queerness not an object of study but rather a subject of its own theorization based on everyday experience, this special journal issue explicitly and deliberately asserts the vernacular and the mundane as a locus of knowledge. One implication is especially pertinent: knowledge on queerness cannot be prefabricated or preassembled in theoretical laboratories with the aim of merely applying it to an African context. By doing so, Africa functions – as it always has – only as a variable in the study of cultural difference, one that is different from, by implication, a Euro-American centre. ‘Or, as is happening too often, queer African voices and experiences will be absorbed as “data” or “evidence,” not as modes of theory or as challenges to the conceptual assumptions that drive queer studies’ (Macharia 2016: 185). Foregrounding the mundane rather than the urbane (as in ‘suave’, for which queer theory has a strong penchant), we are not trying to ‘define’ African queer sexualities; rather, we seek to provoke conversations about the terms and agencies of their expansion through the prism of frontiers and pioneers.

Les études sur les risques pour la santé reproductive en temps de guerre s'intéressent beaucoup aux statistiques en matière de violence sexuelle infligée par une des parties belligérantes aux femmes de l'autre partie. Bien que justifié, cet intérêt obscurcit les risques présents dans les families et les communautés locales. Cet article examine les conséquences de la militarisation des jeunes dans le sud du Soudan sur la santé reproductive des femmes. La guerre a amené les families à désirer plus d'enfants pour compenser le taux élevé de mortalité infantile en temps de guerre. La rupture sociale entraînée par la guerre a incité les hommes à enfreindre les règies de la sexualité et les tabous sexuels à un point tel que les femmes ont perdu une grande part du pouvoir décisionnel qu'elles avaient sur leur sexualité et leur reproductivité. Ainsi, dans la région occidentale de Dinka, les femmes acceptent de concevoir contre leur gré. Elles considèrent également la grossesse comme une épreuve difficile. Nombreuses sont celles cependant qui tentent d'interrompre leur grossesse par des techniques dangereuses pouvant entraîner une infertilité, des infections ou la mort.

In what sense are current African politics explicable as efforts to ‘domesticate’ modernity? In Tanzania the post-socialist liberalisation has opened space for new forms and objects of competition. A scramble for control and for resources in the Kilimanjaro—Mem area in 1993 is described here. The variety of competitive activities involved is encapsulated in events in four radically different organisational arenas: in Chadema, a new national political party; in the Lutheran Church; in a sub-village on Kilimanjaro; and in a local patrilineage. These organisational frameworks are approached as partially autonomous, locally specific, sites of political activity. Each is visibly marked by a historical past while also being rapidly propelled to respond to immediate changes of circumstance in a large environment. The details suggest that classical theoretical definitions of ‘modernity’ do not always stand up as useful analytic devices.

Although classification of farming systems has been an important theme in the fields of agricultural geography and agricultural economics, there appear to have been no agreed criteria upon which a typology should be made (Grigg, 1969). The problem seems quite intractable as far as most of the developing countries of the tropics are concerned, because lack of statistical data on agriculture has made it impossible for the quantifiable criteria used by agricultural geographers in the advanced countries to be applied. It is therefore not surprising that ‘the notion that shifting cultivation is simple and varies little from area to area and continent to continent’ runs through much of the literature on tropical agriculture. This oversimplified picture of traditional agriculture in the tropics was drawn by earlier writers (Gourou, 1965) who established the framework for a regional differentiation of agriculture. It disregards the changes which have been taking place as a result of increased population pressure on available land, the introduction of cash crops, and the impact of agricultural innovations.

In recent years the question of Ghana has acquired new importance for two reasons: firstly, the recent excavations made at Koumbi Saleh in Southern Mauritania, the most probable site of the medieval Western Sudan capital and, secondly, the belief expressed by some Gold Coast authors that the Akan are descended from the ancient Ghana people. This paper is mainly concerned with the first of these.

Since the work of Durkheim and Mauss on systems of classification, it has generally been recognized that there is some structural relationship or ‘concordance’ between the social and symbolic orders of any society. The present analysis establishes a system of dual symbolic classification for an East Africa people and further indicates the widespread incidence of this type of classification in Africa (cf. Needham, 1960a; Beidelman, 1961; Wieschhoff, 1938; Werner, 1904; Evans-Pritchard, 1953, 1956; and others). It also provides a closer ethnographic comparison with the neighbouring matrilineal Kaguru, with whom Gogo share some linguistic and cultural features, and whose system of symbolic classification has been described by Beidelman (1961).

Many present-day social anthropologists may find Professor Fortes's most recent study the most significant of all his works on the Tallensi. Its main theme is the way in which these people use religious concepts to order and explain certain key aspects of the individual's passage through the social structure, and operate religious cults to facilitate this passage.

In the north of Mafia Island, the rites surrounding the circumcision of boys and the first menstruation of girls are no longer, if indeed they ever were, universally performed. This article attempts to explain this situation, and in so doing, draws on some of Turner's work on symbolism. In particular, his distinction between different levels of meaning expressed by symbols—the exegetical, the operational and the positional (1962)—is followed in a discussion of the political implications of performance or rejection of the rites.

The literature on general peasant–state relations in history, in Africa today, or in Kenya in particular, tells us that the peasants have little systematic political leverage over state policy. While I broadly agree with this assessment, I would like to comment on an exception. The changing nature of self-help in Kenya is analysed in order to argue, first, that peasants, in collaboration with other classes in self-help, have had some leverage on state policy and budgets in the realm of basic needs; second, that the fact of peasant initiative and political strength over time has served to alter subtly some aspects of everyday peasant–state relations to peasant advantage; and third, that self-help has historically been a doubleedged political sword. But, before proceeding to the Kenya context, it is essential to review theoretical and empirical aspects of peasant political weakness in contemporary Africa.