It is not surprising that animals have played a significant role in KhoeSān cosmology but identifying exactly what that role is and how it relates to different contexts of belief and action is more challenging. This article identifies a special role for birds in KhoeSān thought and practice, which is tightly bound to matters of spirit and healing, seems relatively cohesive and is distinctive and widespread, both culturally and historically. Working out from a detailed KhoeSān medical ethnography and using bird examples taken from a wide range of KhoeSān, I argue that bird relationships are best understood by re-framing popular ideas of ‘supernatural potency’ within persistent habits of perception and the opportunities or challenges they present. I further highlight how KhoeSān interaction with birds must be linked to particular relationships with knowledge in order to understand why birds are so salient. I conclude by emphasizing the dangers of explaining KhoeSān bird relationships within potentially distorting categories of ‘metaphor’.

In 1966, a new hospital was being built in western Kenya with Soviet aid. Designed by Soviet architects and planners, with equipment transported from the USSR, it was to be the largest hospital in Kenya. Still referred to today by Kenyans as ‘Russia’, it was the pet project of Oginga Odinga, the central figure of political opposition in postcolonial Kenya, who cultivated friendship with the USSR. Like the training offered to African students at the Patrice Lumumba University in Moscow, the hospital was a gift of the Soviets, a material embodiment of medical modernity, socialist internationalism and Africa's hopeful future. However, it soon became deeply embroiled in Kenya's Cold War politics. This article explores the remains and legacies of these Soviet gifts, tracing their connections to visions of progress and development, decolonization and struggles for political freedom in postcolonial Kenya. Drawing on ethnographic fieldwork, archival material, newspaper reports and interviews with Kenyans who were educated in the Soviet Union, I trace how, in institutional, bureaucratic, affective and biographical remains, diverging dreams and anticipations of progress and development converged and collided. Russia, like the city of which it forms a part, emerges as a palimpsest: a site of hopes and dreams, violence and disappointment, and the anticipation of futures.

By considering the lifespan of a garden, this article investigates the myriad spatial practices of forgetting and remembering the colonial and postcolonial pasts that people apply to their urban surroundings in Mahajanga, Madagascar. In the heart of an ancient residential and commercial neighbourhood in this multi-ethnic Indian Ocean port city sits the Jardin Ralaimongo. Drawing on ethnographic and archival research, I explore the trajectory of the garden to elucidate the ways in which different socio-political groups have drawn on this site to negotiate differences, frame collective memories, and stake their claims to the urban landscape. I show how, as city inhabitants have reworked the spaces of the garden, so too has the park itself – its layout, material artefacts and location within the city – constrained the possibilities of what can be remembered and silenced, and who can be bound to one another, in contemporary times. Over its hundred-year history, this site has been founded, forgotten and reincarnated as a memorial to a succession of revered leaders, thus serving as a kind of spatial register of the historical socio-political changes that have given rise to the city. This article suggests that the deterioration of colonial-era architectural forms through long-standing neglect and abandonment may be understood as an active spatial practice of effacing some dimensions of the past, while the subsequent recuperation of deserted public spaces by certain groups is an effort to position themselves as legitimate residents and express their attachment to the city.

This essay explores the relationships between three Luo grandmothers and their grandchildren with particular attention to forms of address and of sharing as practices of amity. Classic Africanist kinship studies identified these as central to the relations between alternate generations. We argue that they are also crucial to our understanding of some aspects of the notion of ‘love’ (hera) that old and young Luo describe as constitutive both of grandmotherhood in particular and of sociality in general. We shall intertwine these concerns of the first generation of social anthropologists, in what were then imagined as pre-modern societies, with the concerns that contemporary, modern Luo grandmothers and grandchildren have with love. Love or amity, and their attendant everyday practices of sharing, retain their importance both for the grandmaternal bond and for broader Luo sociality. Rather than providing an unquestioned and unequivocal prescriptive framework, these practices of relatedness are situated within an imaginative field which is often explicitly dichotomised. Some practices stress individual selves and autonomous subjects, while others emphasise the sharedness of the self and the primacy of relations over subjects. Rather than adhering to one or the other of these poles of relatedness and personhood, modern Luo grandmothers and grandchildren create their everyday lives between them, drawing on divergent ideas and practices, while enjoying, where possible, the pleasures of'love’.

This article explores why, despite its diminished popularity, Afro-Cuban music remains among the most performed musics in Senegalese music clubs. Since the Second World War, many Senegalese have associated Afro-Cuban music with cosmopolitanism and modernity. In particular, Senegalese who came of age during the Independence era associate Latin music with a new model of sociability that emphasized ‘correct’ behaviour – elegant attire and self-discipline. Participating in an emerging ‘café society’ was especially important. The rise of m'balax music in the late 1970s, deemed more culturally ‘authentic’ by a younger generation coming into its own, challenged many of the values associated with Senegalese salsa. As an enlarged Senegalese public embraced m'balax, the older generation stopped going out to Dakar's nightclubs where they felt increasingly uncomfortable. However, the model of sociability this generation has championed calls for public displays of distinction and refinement. In fin-de-siècle Dakar, a number of venues emerged where Afro-Cuban music is played and powerful older Dakarois congregate, even if less frequently than formally. This article describes these venues and documents their patrons and the performances that take place there.

The pantheon of African national heroes houses a man forgotten by recent African history. He is Blaise Diagne, who became the first Negro African deputy of the French parliament by winning an unusual election in Senegal on 10 May 1914. This success not only launched Diagne upon a distinguished career of public service but also marked the beginning of African participation in modern politics in Senegal. Diagne, who was an incipient nationalist, broke the French and Creole domination of Senegalese representative institutions, introduced new campaign techniques and political methods, and gave a sense of purpose and unity to a badly divided African electorate. He was allowed to keep his parliamentary seat, despite attacks from many quarters, and thereby gave the French assimilationist theory its highest expression. He initiated a pattern of African involvement in metropolitan affairs that characterized French-speaking African politics for the next two generations; he set a style and created a mystique which inspired later African politicians; he can be called with great justice the precursor of modern African politics.

This paper suggests that important economic problems in the Republic of the Sudan (the Anglo-Egyptian Sudan until independence in 1956) arise from attitudes associated with the heritage of slavery. After briefly outlining the nature of indigenous slavery, and the essential interrelatedness of its economic and social characteristics, it uses primarily official documents to analyse the economic effects of slavery abolition in the northern Sudan. Present-day economic ramifications of the slavery heritage are then discussed.

The development of large centralized states in West Africa has long been recognized. The complexity of organization of the few well-known kingdoms, but not their differences in size and structure, is constantly emphasized in the literature. The number and variety of West African groups which have not developed states have, on the other hand, frequently been underestimated. In a comparative review by Professors Fortes and Evans-Pritchard two types of political system, centralized and segmentary, have been described for Africa as a whole, with examples of each in West Africa. A survey of West African societies suggests, however, that finer distinctions are possible and that not all these societies can be placed in one or other of these two categories. In particular, this classification omits consideration of ‘stateless’ societies in which associations, rather than a segmentary lineage system, regulate political relations; and it fails to distinguish different types of authority and political structure in states.

Nigeria is one of three countries where polio continues to be endemic. In northern Nigeria, areas with low levels of polio immunization due to persistent parental opposition as well as implementation and infrastructural problems have contributed to wild poliovirus transmission. Furthermore, political violence associated with Islamic groups opposed to the federal government has also hampered the conclusion of the Global Polio Eradication Initiative (GPEI) efforts. This violence, which began in Borno State and has spread to other parts of northern Nigeria, occurs precisely where poliovirus transmission continues. These two related aspects – parallel dilemmas of low immunization and political violence – confound the conclusion of GPEI efforts in Nigeria. This situation also raises ethical questions both about the final stages of eradication efforts and about military actions to contain ongoing violence. The Nigerian government's attempts to suppress opposition to the polio eradication campaign by threatening non-compliant parents with arrest and by closing down media outlets may frighten some parents into compliance but can also breed resentment and resistance, just as military and police activities, such as house-to-house sweeps and widespread arrests, may encourage sympathy for Islamic insurgents. This situation suggests that the possible solution of one problem – the ending of wild poliovirus transmission – depends upon a solution of the other, i.e. the cessation of violent anti-government activities.

Mediumistic divination is unique to the Nguni, as all other Bantu-speakers in southern Africa used a fairly ‘objective’ divinatory system involving a set of four incised bone tablets, or an assortment of astragals, shells and other objects (or a combination of both). Also, unlike non-Nguni, Nguni diviners were predominantly women. They were called to the profession through a life-transforming, ancestor-sent illness (thwasa) characterised by psychological and physical symptoms. The article discusses the nature, and possible correlates, of these differences. It is argued that the form of Nguni divination is connected with three related aspects of Nguni social arrangements that distinguish them from other southern African Bantu-speakers, namely the presence of strong patricians, the conceptualisation of the ancestors as a transcendent, undifferentiated collectivity, and the marked subordination of women. In addition, there is evidence of both the borrowing of certain aspects of the San trance dance, as an appropriate expression of female tensions, and, especially among Cape Nguni, of the concept of divinatory animals. This San influence is much less evident among the Zulu. The importance of appreciating the essentially selective nature of cultural borrowing is emphasised.

All over sub-saharan Africa, menstruating women, pregnant women and sexual relations are seen as incompatible with productive activities (hunting, blacksmithing, cattle herding, agriculture, pottery, beer brewing, etc.). The article argues that there is a certain rationality or logic behind the prohibitions which is independent of the social contingencies found in the different societies, and which is linked with the fact that all these activities are metaphorically compared to human reproduction. The metaphors help us to understand mysterious and delicate biochemical processes, characterised by recurrent misfortune, but they also introduce a cognitive threat by creating similarity between things which are very different. The taboos then try to prevent the conjunction of the things metaphorically compared, in order to forestall the possibility of misfortune related to them.

Anti-retroviral therapies have radically transformed the HIV epidemic in rural southern Malawi and this article explores the ways in which women are learning to live with the virus in a matrilineal setting. Through discussion of the experiences of HIV-positive women, I argue that stigma can only be understood through an appreciation of the pre-existing, and often complicated, social relations into which new information about a person is folded. The women's narratives reveal a tentative hope for the future, which is replicated in my own optimism that the anthropology of HIV is undergoing a parallel reorientation towards the study of life with HIV, rather than death by AIDS.

This essay presents a history of the mikiliste, the high-living bon vivant who travels to Europe and is a central figure in Kinois urban mythology. It looks in particular at the highly theatrical exchanges engaged in by the mikiliste, which relate especially to music patronage and to designer clothing. I show how these exchanges have evolved over time, both shaping and being shaped by the political economy of Kinshasa. The essay shows how such aesthetic performances should not be discussed in isolation from wider political-economic considerations. Those who participate in economies of prestige must be connected to a material base, and the ruling class, with their access to the resources of the interior, have become ever more important participants in the mikiliste rituals of largesse. Recently, the violent contestation of mikiliste exchange, both in Europe and in Kinshasa, indicates that such moments of largesse may be involved in reproducing political-economic relations in the Congolese capital.

Somalia has been without a government for the past thirteen years. After the ousting of Siyaad Barre in 1991 observers were left with the question why a promising, even democratic, society sharing the same ethnicity, one religion, a common language and a predominantly pastoral culture was overtaken by a devastating civil war. Analysts stressed the significance of kinship and clan politics in the maintenance of sustained conflict. They argued that Somalia's state collapse must be placed in a historical context taking into consideration the cultural heritage of Somali society and the legacy of the colonial past. The purpose of the article is twofold: first, it seeks to explore an alternative explanation for the breakdown of Barre's dictatorial regime; and second, to analyse the social consequences of political and economic exclusion that followed the state collapse. The paper argues that Somalia's state failure can be explained by the unjust distribution of new sources of wealth in postcolonial Somalia. This modernisation process was accompanied by violent clashes and continued insecurity. The breakdown of the former regime did not create a representative government. Instead, faction leaders fought for political supremacy at the cost of the lives of thousands of civilians. In the absence of a functioning government that could guarantee security and protection, clan loyalties gained importance. Clan affiliation became a condition of being spared from violence. Unjust distribution of pockets of wealth, such as the high‐potential agricultural land in the riverine areas in southern Somalia, led to localised clashes. It will be argued that horizontal inequalities, or inequalities between groups, are based on both material and imagined differences. Somali faction leaders use these differences instrumentally, to maintain and to exercise power. Irrespective of the existence of invisible and physical markers, it is important to understand what existing social boundaries mean to their participants. A localised clan conflict in Lower Shabelle between the Jido and the Jareer clan families illustrates the consequences of social and economic exclusion. Groups who felt excluded from economic and political life, such as the Jareer, took up arms. Violence became a means of being heard and taken seriously in the current Somali peace talks in Kenya.

In Niger, there is an increasing rejection of politik (a term with highly pejorative connotations): that is, party politics and the politics of democracy, characterized by personal rivalries and power struggles between clans and factions. But there is a direct link (albeit not a causal one) between the social perceptions of intra-familial rivalries and the social perceptions of political rivalries. The archetypical relationship among the baab-izey (children of one father but different mothers) is characterized by competition and jealousy. This is a product of the latent rivalry that pits co-wives against each other. Polygamy is clearly at odds with a number of received ideas and clichés about ‘the African family’ as primarily a locus of support and solidarity. Such formal social norms may reign in public situations, but in private de facto practical norms give rise to subtle discriminations and the omnipresence of more or less hidden conflicts within the family. The same is true for the political microcosm of Niger. While the public norm of the concern for the public good is supposed to regulate political behaviours, rivalry and jealousy are structural components of the political world. The baab-izey pattern is frequently used in reference to politicians. Political conflicts are above all personal/factional conflicts in which friends and supporters are implicated, and are rivalries of proximity. In the familial space as in the political space, ‘magico-religious entrepreneurs’ (i.e. experts in the occult) are merely an ‘accelerator’ of these conflicts: they reinforce suspicions about the familial or political entourage, which, in turn, intensify rivalries.

Tant les Banen que les Mambila au Cameroun utilisent les araignées pour leurs prédictions. La pratique intellectuelle de la technique divinatoire est liée aux différents contextes sociologiques de divination chez les Banen. Une relative liberté d'interprétation ainsi que la pose des questions au cours de la nuit est en relation avec le peu d'importance politique de la chose. A l'inverse, chez les Mambila, l'interprétation du devin est tenue à observer certaines règies et un grand nombre de questions simples peuvent être posées à la suite. Les résultats sont d'une grande importance à la Cour du Chef. Le contexte social et le contenu intellectuel ont chacun leurs règies mais sont déterminés l'un par l'autre.

During the first few months of 1978, at the height of the rainy season, mourning lamentations hardly ever ceased at the mortuary of Mbala General Hospital. Infants and children were dying. Inadequate food intake, malabsorption of nutrients and malarial infection were the main causes of death.

Those who survived the ‘hunger months’ of 1978 lived in overcrowded quarters and were fed a diet consisting mainly of diluted maize meal (‘mealie meal’) porridge. They suffered from poor dietary variation and an unprecedented shortage of basic foodstuffs. The small and isolated township of Mbala could not provide for itself; it relied on maize flour imports from the Copper belt and from Lusaka. The arrival of a truckload of flour–the road to Kasama had not yet been tarred– was sufficient to bring the town community to its feet and cause long queues of despairing people.

The purpose of this paper is to present evidence of the changes which occur in the behavior of truck and lorry drivers when they are operating their vehicles as opposed to their behavior at other times. Specifically, it is hypothesized that drivers of trucks and lorries in certain West African societies behave in a very time and profit oriented, efficiency conscious manner when they are actually driving, but that this mode of behavior is not carried over into other spheres of their daily interaction. The impression, to use Ferdinand Tonnies' terms (1887), is one of an island of gesellschaft behavior (driving the vehicle) surrounded by an ocean of gemeinschaft behavior (the remainder of daily life).

‘It all comes down to juok’ is the recurrent answer to enquiries about suffering and misfortune among the Nilotic Jop'Adhola of eastern Uganda. Understanding what it means to ‘believe’ in juok requires a theoretical approach that recognises culture as a battleground between conflicting voices. This article explores the multiple and often contradictory ways to talk about, practise and believe in juok and how the notion of juok intersects with Christianity and biomedicine in ever changing constellations. Juok, it is suggested, can be seen as an image of intersubjective experience that allows the anthropologist insight into ways in which people in Eastern Uganda engage with each other and with the ‘other world’. Juok is one of the things people use when trying to activate events and overcome obstacles in life. As such it reflects the resilience of people confronted with suffering.

The subject of this paper is the ceremonies which the Ohafia of south-eastern Nigeria perform in connexion with their major farm crop, yams (Dioscorea spp.). These relate both to the annual agricultural cycle and to the taking of yam-related titles which express status in Ohafia society at large. The special place yams occupy in Ohafia culture as the prestige crop, associated particularly with men, cannot be explained simply as an effect of the material importance of yam and its cultivation in the Ohafia economy. For whatever may explain the origin of yam's ritual importance, the Ohafia economy in both the nineteenth and twentieth centuries has depended on other important bases too, and Ohafia men have combined farming with other activities: warfare and trade. Indeed, the agricultural economy itself has been more dependent on female labour. Nonetheless, ‘yam-values’ remain of central symbolic importance to the ideals of individual and communal success promoted by Ohafia culture.