In the mountainous areas of south-western Uganda, peasant miners are characterized as people who ‘work for the stomach’ and pursue an unsustainable activity: extracting alluvial gold with artisanal technology. After days of hard work in the mines, they allegedly squander their money on alcohol and sex. A common way of disapproving of these miners’ behaviour is to compare them to lake fishers (ababariya). By focusing on the ababariya narrative as an entry point into the lifeways of miners, and the relationship between mining and fishing and agriculture, we explore how peasant miners think about a sustainable life. Our argument is that the ababariya can be instrumental in the reproduction and legitimization of existing social and economic inequalities. We therefore examine the contexts that frame the ababariya narrative and the inequalities that it legitimizes. This leads us to reflect on whether this narrative on ‘excessive behaviours’ reveals something about an alternative way of thinking about economy and social relationships based on abundance rather than scarcity.

From 1950 to 1963, a columnist named ‘Kadebona’ (The Experienced One) published regular pieces in Izwi lama Swazi (The Voice of the Swazi), the vernacular newspaper of the British protectorate of Swaziland (now named Eswatini). Although lacking definitive evidence, it is probable that Kadebona was John J. Nquku, a leading political figure of colonial Eswatini. Kadebona’s 300-plus columns positioned themselves as meeting places for the embryonic Swati nation. In contrast to the closed-door discussions of those in power, Kadebona’s columns styled themselves as transparent platforms for a give-and-take debate among emaSwati (as residents of Eswatini were called). Kadebona not only ‘spoke’ via his columns; he also expected replies on the part of the nation. His column was a space available to all, ‘where the rich and the poor, and where leaders and their followers, all meet’. In a period of debate over the future of the independent Swati nation, Kadebona’s columns encouraged all emaSwati to shape their country, and allowed all perspectives audibility via the column and ‘Letters to the Editor’. At the same time, however, there were distinct limits to the egalitarian public summoned through these articles. While Kadebona encouraged all emaSwati regardless of rank or class to speak up, he was far less welcoming towards other voices, including women and youths. This article provides an introduction to these fraught columns, a small sample of which are presented here, both in their isiZulu original and in English translation (siSwati – the language spoken by emaSwati – had no authorized written form well into the 1960s; instead, the South African isiZulu was used for written communication). In what follows, I provide Izwi lama Swazi’s history, discuss the emergence of Kadebona as a columnist in the 1950s, and comment on some of his key concerns.

This article explores the trajectories and narratives of people who have exited marginalized urban spaces in Nairobi to move through other social spaces in the city, or abroad. Claiming to belong to the ‘ghetto’, an idiom that refers to both a local space of exclusion and a globalized cultural and political imaginary, our interlocutors embrace the contradictions of this belonging in their everyday experiences. The careers they have built in different fields (art, activism, sport, academia) identify them as figures of social success and make them question their relationships with those around them. Defining their aspirations as intimately linked with the ghetto, but perceiving it as a strong constraint, they are not cutting ties with the place they come from. Drawing on qualitative fieldwork that pays attention to both their self-narratives and their writing, we propose the notion of ‘small boundaries’ to describe how social and spatial mobility from the ghetto produces, for each individual in a different way, an intimate cleavage within the self. We then propose to unpack this specific self as a configuration of three types of distancing (social, spatial and self-distancing) that allow both their aspirations and their obligations to coexist in everyday life.

Once considered an underclass, Gurage people have emerged as Ethiopia’s quintessential entrepreneurial class over the last seven decades. Studies on entrepreneurialism often focus on factors contributing to entrepreneurial success, such as ethnicity. The Gurage case study rethinks entrepreneurialism as nation making, demonstrating how Gurage entrepreneurialism was essential to the formation of Ethiopia’s modern economy and nation state in the twentieth century. The success of Gurage entrepreneurialism partly depended on support from the Ethiopian imperial state. The principal argument developed here is that Gurage entrepreneurs’ struggle against the ‘expatriate’ domination of Ethiopia’s capitalist commerce came to be constituted as a struggle for national economic independence, which was central to the nation-making project in this post-liberation period. In the process, Gurage transformed their own previous marginalization and denigration as ‘foreigners’ to become quintessential Ethiopian nation builders. It is a story about Gurage entrepreneurialism’s input into the Ethiopian nation-building project, one that contributes to larger theoretical discussions about entrepreneurialism, nation making, the state–market nexus and threats of foreign dominance in African markets.

In Kenya, the transition to a devolved system of governance in 2013 buoyed hopes for meaningful democratization. County governments were expected to lower the stakes of electoral competition, distribute national resources more equitably, enable citizens to hold their local leaders to account, and thus promote impersonal forms of political trust in state institutions and bureaucratic procedures. Yet personalistic trust based on shared kinship and ethnic identities continues to characterize citizen–state relations. This article explores how and why. It does so based on ethnographic fieldwork in post-devolution Gusiiland, an ethnically homogeneous and politically fragmented context where clan and sub-clan kinship identities remain central to local electoral mobilization. Here, competing for office means negotiating alliances that bridge polities divided by a history of uneven development, partisan patronage, and intersecting clannist, classist and patriarchal prejudices. Candidates negotiate such alliances by partnering with local ‘agents’ or intermediaries, who broker votes and patronage in their families and family networks. Zooming in on candidate–agent cooperation, the article shows how its terms and outcomes are partly contingent on intermediaries’ gender, class and personal reputation, as well as rivalries among families and voters vying for brokerage positions. The brokerage of patronage systematically recreates the material conditions of possibility not just for transcending but also for lending fresh legitimacy to normative conceptions of trust as ‘natural’ among kin. Thus, the resilience of kinship-based trust can be explained in terms of the plasticity of patronage-based electoral mobilization and its potential to enact moral ideals of kinship in new, seemingly democratic ways.

For young men in Cameroon, football has long been a paradigm of sociality through competitive spirit. In recent decades, however, the stakes of competitive football have been raised: the sport has also emerged as a strategy for young men to migrate abroad and earn a living. On and off the football fields, young men seek to grab limited opportunities to sign contracts with clubs abroad, but few succeed. However, the aspiring athletes rarely see themselves as autonomous individuals competing for a limited number of spots in football clubs. Rather, they attribute failure or success to questions of trust and mistrust: in competitive peers, in neighbours and kin, in Pentecostal Christianity, and in football as a source of livelihood. Competing for a place in a global football industry has led the footballers to mistrust potentially envious others, but also increasingly to put their faith in a Christian God and develop a confident orientation towards a future of success despite the odds. The nexus of football, religion and migration aspirations in Anglophone Cameroon reveals how trust retains a central, albeit ambiguous, place in high-stakes competitive environments, namely as a leap of faith and a confidence in engaging uncertainty. It complicates the idea of competition as a singular and neutral principle that obviates the need for trust, and refines anthropological theory that tacitly confines trust to interpersonal relationships.

The October 2016 train accident on Cameroon’s main railway line remains shrouded in mystery. The announcement of the derailment before it happened, followed by a denial by the Minister of Transport a few hours later, at the very moment of the accident, has given rise to much speculation. According to testimonies collected in Eséka through fieldwork and the media, this tragic event was interpreted as the result of a witchcraft conspiracy. The inhabitants of the Bassa region, who consider the railway crossing their territory as a cultural heritage, had expressed their discontent with attempts to rationalize the line for some time. These accounts reveal that the disaster was triggered by collective action which unfolded through three distinct phases: labelling, whereby words acquire particular power; harbingers of misfortune; and finally, the bewitchment of the train to ‘zombify’ it, leading to its derailment. In response to these witchcraft imaginaries, the president himself addressed the Bassa’s grievances and requested an adjustment of the train stops, thus demonstrating the performativity of witchcraft and its capacity to put grievances on the agenda and to shape public policies. This article puts forward the idea that witchcraft represents a repertoire from which a community draws to express dissent. Bewitching and zombifying the train to make it derail are, for some actors, a way of signalling to the modern African state that it is not always ‘master in its own house’, that it does not have total control over reality and that it must constantly negotiate its authority.

The anthropology of sport literature, and literature on neoliberalism in Africa more broadly, has often been predicated on the notion that neoliberalism forces a conversion from seeing the self as collectively produced towards the development of an individualistic and competitive ‘entrepreneurship of self’. While global long-distance running is increasingly competitive, with the odds against success stacked ever higher, this is not a dynamic that can be traced in Ethiopia. Rather, there is a sense that the individualism and competitiveness that are acknowledged to already be at the heart of Amhara society must be tempered in order for athletes to survive within this system. Increasing competition is understood to require people to work together more closely, rather than forcing them apart. In this article, I explore the paradox that bodily acts of trust can coexist with the discursive insistence on the impossibility of trust in competitive environments. By focusing on the warm-up as a key site of trust work, I show how an awareness of the challenges inherent in enacting trusting relations in close proximity with others necessitates deliberate work over a number of years to render such behaviour as unspoken as possible.

Competition has rarely been an explicit theme in ethnographies of African settings, despite being a familiar dynamic to ethnographers in the field. Trust and mistrust, although prominent themes, tend to feature in discussions of their relationship to cooperation. Re-reading ethnographic and historical accounts of diverse competitive practices on the continent invites a closer attention to the subtle ways in which competition – as a specific genre of collective action – shapes and is reshaped by relations of trust and mistrust. This article begins by drawing this lead out from extant literature, before pursuing it in conversation with the ethnographic materials presented across this part issue. We show that competition gives rise to particular acts and dispositions of trust and mistrust. These, in turn, prompt people to reimagine the competitive structures and practices they engage in. Competition, trust and mistrust are thus mutually implicated. This insight demonstrates how ethnographies of African settings can continue to strengthen conceptual understandings of both competition and trust in anthropological and social theory while challenging representations of African societies as historically uncompetitive at a time when assumptions about the relationship between competition and trust continue to inform macro-economic modelling and policymaking that shape millions of lives, in Africa and beyond.

This article analyses a competitive payment practice common aboard artisanal fishing boats in Sierra Leone. The competition for payment between crew members on board fishing boats complicates common discursive claims about generalized mistrust in post-war Sierra Leone. Through a phenomenological ethnography of working relations at sea, I show how competitive practices generate flexible trust between crew members. Competing in what is known as handfailure produces moments where others’ intentions and moral character become legible, allowing fishermen to forge and revise trust in light of shifting evaluations of trustworthiness. The trust forged through handfailure differs from older patron–client relationships between boat owners and fishermen, and from the interpretations of social breakdown in fishing communities given by government officials. The article contributes to recent anthropological conversations about mis/trust by showing how, in contexts where people question trust or claim that mistrust is widespread, trust can nevertheless be forged anew on more flexible and negotiable terms.

This article examines the development, early operation and subsequent failure of the Tot-Kolowa Red Cross irrigation scheme in Kenya’s Kerio Valley. Initially conceived as a technical solution to address regional food insecurity, the scheme aimed to scale up food production through the implementation of a fixed pipe irrigation system and the provision of agricultural inputs for cash cropping. A series of unfolding circumstances, however, necessitated numerous modifications to the original design as the project became increasingly entangled with deep and complex histories of land use patterns, resource allocation and conflict. Failure to understand the complexity of these dynamics ultimately led to the project’s collapse as the region spiralled into a period of significant unrest. In tracing these events, we aim to foreground the lived realities of imposed development, including both positive and negative responses to the scheme’s participatory obligations and its wider impact on community resilience.

The ‘title deed fix’ – resurgent globally since the 1990s – is part of a wave of market-led agrarian reforms whose outcomes have been mixed. Kenya was the first African country to experiment – starting six decades ago and continuing today – with state-mandated formal land registration and private titling. Today it is among a handful to begin a transition to a digitized land registry. Behind both paper and electronic land documents, however, is a persistent temporal fiction that undergirds state-backed title registries – namely, a constructed present that is out of sync with intersecting biographical and structural temporalities, and that can efface socially recognized pasts, commitments or testimonials. We analyse some consequences of those temporal dissonances, unstable rights durations, and an ensuing limbo that can last decades, through family land stories shared with us during long-term ethnographic research in Kenya’s fertile central highlands. Especially vulnerable to temporal erasure and dispossession when title deed limbo spans decades are divorced or single women and their children, particularly as farmland and non-agricultural employment become more scarce and land markets overheat. Multitemporal family narratives powerfully illustrate why title deeds of any age are best taken as provisional truths rather than legal certainties, and why tenure security is an unstable and reversible process rather than a present or absent condition.

This article explores the intersection of labour, sexual violence and intimacy in the late nineteenth-century copper mining district of Namaqualand, focusing on the impact of male labourers’ brutalities on local Nama and Baster women. Small in scale, lacking state interference and offering vast employment opportunities to women, Namaqualand’s mines and the towns that grew around them were a key destination for local female labour migration. Due to these unique characteristics, however, women were also exposed to unwanted attention and sexual abuse by male labourers, particularly miners. Women used the Cape’s legal system to protest, but the indifference shown towards their suffering by colonial officials and the public allowed men to use violence without much restraint, rendering women’s legal efforts futile. Ultimately, sexual violence reinforced gendered and racial hierarchies, restricting women’s socio-economic agency and autonomy. The article argues that these dynamics highlight the violent (re)shaping of colonial and patriarchal power asymmetries in the north-western Cape between two major colonial wars after the stabilization of the northern frontier by means of armed conquest.

Indigenous Yorùbá poetry is often defined by such features as context, structure, tonal quality and the performer’s identity. Early taxonomy of the poetry focused on the poetics that could be deduced from a long tradition of practice. Recent scholarship in literary and cultural studies has been more interested in showing the ways in which the poetry is being inflected by encounters with postcolonial modernity. While these recent contributions demonstrate how new forms, such as ewì, distil expressive nuances from the older forms and invent new performative practices to address new publics, such studies encourage a generalization that credits to the new forms all the modern advances recorded in the indigenous forms themselves. Looking at specific indigenous forms in terms of how postcolonial modernity has reshaped them, rather than considering them another set of additions to a new generic category, allows us a clearer view of their transition. I track the inventions and changes in the practice of two Yorùbá forms, ìjálá and Ifá chants, using the performances of Àlàbí Ògúndépò and Yẹmí Ẹlẹ́buìbọn. I rely on ethnographic data to show how mutating audiences and electronic storage and retrieval systems have continually shaped composition and performance, discuss the imperatives of modernity and economy in the performative choices of the artists, and show how the performers simultaneously manage their resistance to and adoption of the modern.

This article asks whether and how gendered violence was part of the quotidian activity of state building in German South West Africa. Investigating the intimate space of a police compound, it gives a micro-historical account of how interracial sexual relations unfolded there, and how policemen’s private, intimate affairs were subject to close scrutiny by the colonial state. Rape – as distinctively masculine violence – posed a notably delicate problem to the legitimacy of the colonial state. The white masculine prerogative needed to be affirmed as the raison d’être of the colonial regime, but disorderly, unprofessional violence had to be controlled for the same reason. The case examined in this article was a rare moment in which an African woman attempted to take part in the discussion over the meaning of sex and violence. Ultimately, her articulation of what intimate, physical interactions meant to her was ignored. Instead, policemen articulated what masculine honour and comradeship meant to them. These discussions over what individual ‘honourable’ (including violent) behaviour implied were also always negotiations over the nature of colonial power and its programme.

This article uses a micro-historical approach to examine an escape and murder among convict labourers between Cape Town and Stellenbosch in Southern Africa in the 1840s. It does so to demonstrate how imperial mobilities and legal conceptions of property crime were interconnected within settler colonial capital and the intimacies of colonial social worlds. Reforms in penal practice in the British Empire – in this instance, adopted in the Cape Colony from Tasmanian experiments in convict labour and moral improvement – formed part of post-abolition shifts in labour control and the management of the itinerant poor, increasingly guided by anxieties over race. Michael O’Brien, the murderer, was a suspected escaped convict from Australia, who claimed to have survived violent encounters in the Pacific as a missionary. His narrative contrasts with the predominantly regional mobilities and crimes of the other Cape convicts – notably stock theft and petty robbery – that occurred in the contested spaces of law, colonialism and property. This article discusses convict narratives around crime and redemption across a maritime empire, and the affective relations of coercion and care between convicts, overseers, constables and superintendents on the smaller scale of a convict station. It further contends that changes in criminal justice and governance in Southern Africa were thus contingent on the intimacies of scale and affect, on connections between the local, the global and the biographical.

All archives have silences, which may come to resonate, even if they may never speak. What is unsaid or unsayable may be understood and appreciated even if never enunciated and never heard. The photographs of the Cameroonian photographer Jacques Toussele from 1960 to 1980 were taken against a background of violence: the uprising of the Union des Populations du Cameroun (UPC), which started before Cameroonian independence and continued for the next decade. The fight against UPC ‘terrorists’ by the Cameroonian state and the French military was marked by violence on all sides. There is no evidence of this in the Toussele archive, which consists of administrative ID portraits and recreational shots depicting friends and family and various displays of intimacy. The Toussele photographic archive shows young people in Mbouda exhibiting the global tropes of modernity. Soon after independence in Ouest Cameroon, both the violence and the promises of 1960s modernity were challenges to traditional sociality. A local reading makes it clear that the violence was ever present in its absence and denial: to perform an event was no small achievement and, like the birth of a child, was to be celebrated and marked by photography. Intimacy was achieved against a background of violence and celebrated for this very reason.

This study is concerned with addressing discrimination in public spaces and interrogates the extent to which the social identity function of a local lingua franca impacted inclusion politics in leadership selections for public institutions in Africa. Guided by social identity and ethnolinguistic identity theories, selecting Ahmadu Bello University in Northern Nigeria as a case study, and using the qualitative research technique, this study found a three-level ethno-religious discriminatory categorization – Core Northerners, Peripheral Northerners and Non-Northerners – accommodated within the institution’s power hierarchy. Fluency in Hausa, the local lingua franca in Northern Nigeria, was the common factor. Although the language was not a requirement for appointment, it turned out to be the marker of social identity that positively impacted inclusion politics. With extensive linguistic acculturation, African nation states are better off investing in the propagation of the local lingua franca to address negative discrimination in public spaces.

Following a severe drought in the late 1970s and early 1980s, the invasive shrub Prosopis, a kind of mesquite native to South America, was introduced by international organizations to locations across Kenya’s drylands, including the Turkana region in the far north. Prosopis, known as etirae in Turkana, was envisaged as a solution to a range of problems, including deforestation, fuelwood shortages and general environmental deterioration. While exacerbated by drought, these problems were perceived to reflect a much more fundamental crisis, with prevalent views at the time envisaging pastoralism as unsustainable, destructive and in need of overhaul – a narrative dating to colonial times that has since been discredited. Since its introduction, etirae has spread relentlessly, invading riparian land, encroaching on cultivation plots and growing to new heights and thicknesses. Investigating its entanglements with Turkana livelihoods and economic relationships is also a process of understanding how it has braided its way through contested processes of social change, and how it has come to be intertwined with conceptions of cascading crisis quite distinct from the narratives that led to its initial introduction. Implications emerge regarding both the complicated biological residues of past development interventions and the totalizing crisis-oriented narratives that shape drylands development in the current era of climate change.