yo e andado veynte y tres años en la mar.y ví todo el levante y poniente,…y e andado la Guinea…

The first world empire (truly one on which the sun never set) was created by the union of the crowns of Portugal and Spain in 1580. If the events immediately leading up to the union were unexpected and contingent, the creation of a global hegemony had been adumbrated nine decades earlier, with the almost simultaneous voyages, to west and to east, of Christopher Columbus and Vasco da Gama. What lay behind these voyages on the parts of Portugal and Spain, and hence the respective claims of these nations to have set in motion the process which led to world empire, form the background theme of this paper.

Concentration on the heroic figures of Vasco da Gama and Columbus has often prevented historians from appreciating the significance of earlier developments. Writers discussing Columbus and the consequent impact of Spain on the Americas regularly fail to lay sufficient weight on the seventy years of previous Portuguese discovery of the coast of Africa, and therefore on the consequent Portuguese grapplings with the political, economic, and moral problems of culture contact and imperial policy in an Outer Continent. Equally, historians of the Portuguese imperial effort, eager to reach the better-evidenced complexities of the Lusitanian contact with Asia, tend to neglect, not only the Portuguese effort in the South Atlantic, but also the rival Castilian effort in the same ocean—an effort that preceded Columbus and paralleled, to some extent, the deeds of Portugal. Yet, within Iberia the two kingdoms, Portugal and Castile (the latter in process of generating the new kingdom of Spain), were in close and involved contact, not least because the territorial shape of each in the 1490s had only been hammered out during the preceding one hundred years. There is thus a strong case for treating the global expansion of Iberia as a single process and not merely as two coincidental thrusts around the globe, ultimately in opposite directions.

Since African history began to be produced in quantity one-and-a-half academic generations ago, there have rarely been shortages of new explanatory theory, though sometimes there has been paucity of data, more often of field than of archival materials. Usually there has been little open discussion of the kinds of methodological problems that both of the other circumstances pose. This contribution to that debate attempts to be deliberately simple, perhaps naive, in order to permit general points to peer through specific examples. It is about the intellectual, technical, and personal complications of field work generally and is illustrated from my own research on the last hundred years in Bulozi, the western part of Zambia. In topic as well as technique, I hope that these experiences have a wider relevance, for much attention is focused on the times of colonial impact.

I have in the title purposely set limits on the discussion. I look at the grist being brought to the mill rather than at what is done with it after it has been ground, in the belief that if the quantity and nature of adulteration can be judged -- for no grain is entirely pure -- one may hope to compensate for it in the baking and so produce reasonable bread. Also, extending the analogy a little, I shall identify types of grain, for no amount of baker's skill can produce a wheat loaf from rye flour.

De Heeren Thienen, executives of the college of directors of the West-Indische Compagnie (W.I.C.) in Amsterdam, demanded that their directors-general in Elmina keep accurate journals or day books, copies of which had to be sent to Holland regularly and at short intervals (one to three months), to each of the five “Kamers” or Chambers: Amsterdam, Zeeland, Maas, Stad, and Lande en Noorderquartier. These journals were produced during most of the period of two and a half centuries that the Dutch resided at the Gold Coast. All of the still-existing journals are now stored at the Algemeen Rijksarchief (ARA) in The Hague in Holland.

Unfortunately, many of the manuscripts dating from before 1700 have gone, lost either by deliberate destruction, by thoughtless bureaucrats, or by accidental fires. Of the manuscripts now in the ARA many are in poor condition and are not available for consultation; others are being microfilmed, which makes studying these valuable documents somewhat tiresome. Fortunately, when I transcribed the day book of 1721 on my laptop computer, I was lucky enough to be able to use the original manuscript; a few weeks after I had finished this job the manuscript was microfilmed and is now available only in that format. The only other existing transcription of a journal of Elmina was published in 1953 by Karel Ratelband, whose Vijf dagregisters van het kasteel Sao Jorge Da Mina, covers the years 1645 to 1647.

The journals of Elmina written or dictated by the directors-general were used by the Heeren Thienen in Amsterdam primarily as a tool to control their staff on the Gold Coast.

The Regional Archival Center at Tamale contains extensive documentation on the former Northern Territories of the Gold Coast, which today make up the Northern and Upper Regions of Ghana. The bulk of the records relating to the colonial period are held in the main repository in Accra, but any scholar working on a northern topic should plan to visit Tamale. While there is a tendancy for “older” (i.e., pre-1940 materials) to be in Accra and for more recent items and Native Authority records to be in Tamale, there is no hard and fast rule, and many exceptions and duplications exist.

There is no catalog for the collection. Accession lists for the seventeen classifi¬cations employed are quite helpful, but they are often somewhat sketchy and sometimes give little indication of the actual contents of a file or the time period which it covers. Following is a list of the classifications, together with titles of selected files, to illustrate their extent and the types of material they contain.

The Mutapa state occupied a triangle of land between the Zambezi river in the north, the Hunyani river and Umvukwe range on the southwest, and the Mazoe and Ruenya rivers on the southeast. It thus consisted of a small segment of the southern Zambezian plateau and an arc of the Zambezi valley lowlands. The state dated back to at least the fifteenth century, and some branches of its ruling dynasty continue to control fragments of the state under the governments of Rhodesia and Mozambique. These descendants of the Mutapa dynasty, like their fellow-members of the Korekore dialect cluster of the Shona-speaking peoples, retain traditions of their past that are passed on from generation to generation by an informal learning process. These traditions are almost all devoted to the ruling dynasties rather than to the mass of the people and are especially concerned with lines of descent and land rights. They range from myths to relatively accurate factual accounts, with a wide variety of traditions between these two extremes. It was at one time thought that the mediums of mhondoro ancestral spirits were equivalent to the professional tradition-keepers of states such as Rwanda, but this theory has not been adequately proven.

The Mutapa state is of especial interest because it is the only one of four known major Shona states—Zimbabwe, Torwa, Mutapa, and Changamire—to escape being uprooted entirely by new settlements of people, and the only one that was close to Portuguese centers (in which information was recorded). It has thus been possible to compare traditions and documents in a way that cannot be done for the other states. Because of the reluctance or inability of many researchers to work in Rhodesia and Mozambique in the last fifteen years, the history of the Mutapa state has been heavily dependent upon the work of D.P. Abraham, at least as far as traditions are concerned. Abraham collected traditions from ca. 1950 to 1971; but so far the only works of his that are readily available are eight papers, of which the most important were produced in the period 1959-1963. These have formed the basis of most of the secondary writing on the Shona states; the inter-relationship between them and a developing archaeology has been discussed in an earlier article, and only a few points of this discussion need be brought in here.

While Africa has produced ruthless and aggressive individuals, Africa has also provided thinkers and public officials with deep moral sensitivity and vision. The following essay discusses a perceptive and powerful African plea for peace and justice in nineteenth-century Buganda. In a country torn by strife, certain Ganda leaders expressed their deep distress about the growing incidence of state violence by reformulating the Kintu myth, the theological, constitutional, and social cornerstone of their kingdom. These concerned individuals boldly reshaped the Kintu story, the Ganda people's most sacred symbol, to describe the tension between peace and violence as the most important issue in Ganda politics.

Palavers, great meetings, grand conferences, “tribal” meetings— these are terms used to describe meetings among peoples in and near Sierra Leone, meetings in which political, diplomatic, and economic questions are discussed and sometimes resolved at the village, intervillage, and occasionally, national levels. These conferences vary in size and importance, depending on dimensions of conflicts or questions to be resolved. This paper focuses on one such conference that convened at Forékariah, the capital of Moria, in 1805 and on circumstances leading to it. It is based largely upon a lengthy first-hand report deposited at the University Library, University of Illinois at Chicago. This paper is presented in two parts: a description of the conference and its placement in Sierra Leone and Morian histories, and the text of the report produced by Sierra Leone observers.

From the earliest records of British officials at Sierra Leone, there are citations to specific “indigenous” meetings and allusions to others that supposedly occurred (indeed they would have had to occur for certain events to follow). One of the earliest large conferences described in detail in these records is one that convened at Forékariah from 24 March to 6 April 1805. The extant contemporary written record of this conference was produced by Alexander Smith, the Sierra Leone Company's and Governor William Day's principal representative at the conference. Other observers from Freetown included William Francis, Andrew Moore, Captain Smith, and Charles Shaw. Alexander Smith did not identify a specific interpreter nor describe what method he used to record the detailed arguments presented by participants. Certainly the filter of language and inter pretation must have influenced the record's content. If one places the conference within the framework of Company and Sierra Leone history, however, and accepts the premise that the Freetown observers were relatively unbiased since they were not principal parties to the palavers resolved, the report can be seen as one of a very few in which Sierra Leone's officials presented themselves in such uninvolved fashion.

One major consequence of the different waves of migrations in Yorubaland up to the nineteenth century was the emergence of settlements in different places and at different times. Some of these settlements were naturally located close to one another, and, as they expanded, they had to struggle among themselves or with their host communities for the control of land and other resources, as well as seek to retain their separate identity. The desire for the control of land, exercise of dominance, as well as for separate identity, with its attendant benefits resulted in mutual distrust and antagonism and, in extreme cases, degenerated into open conflict. The cases of Ife and Modakeke, Oyo and Akinmorin, and Ogbomoso and Orile-Igbon are relevant examples.

The case of Ifon and Ilobu communities is especially peculiar. Different groups migrated into the same region at different times and settled there because of an availability of arable land for agricultural practice, availability of streams and rivers, relatively secured location, and perhaps the discovery of mineral resources like rock salt. Despite the close location of these two communities and the similarity in their customs and language, their relationship has not been cordial. The closeness of these two communities, perhaps a factor in their growth and expansion, resulted in the struggle for the ownership, control, and usage of land. It also resulted in a desire to seek or exercise dominance and separate community identities, with each having recourse to superior historical tradition. These developments have produced mutual distrust and antagonism, resulting in the desire of the communities to seek ways of asserting itself from the grip of domination.

This article describes the archives of the Fellowship Foundation, best known as the organizers of the National Prayer Breakfast in Washington DC. The secretive character of the Fellowship probably accounts for its lack of visibility in African historical narratives to date. This article makes a case that this evangelical network was significant as a clandestine “track two” diplomatic organization with ties throughout Africa. Historians of international relations, it is suggested, may find useful sources in the public archives of Fellowship Foundation correspondence at the Billy Graham Center at Wheaton College in Illinois. The article reviews the records for several countries and offers examples of the banal, secretive, and sometimes usefully suggestive evidence to be found in the correspondence.

This article explores archival practices and ownership of the largely Arabic manuscript collections at the Djenné Manuscript Library. From 2009 to 2017 grants from the British Library’s Endangered Archives Programme enabled the preservation of 8,520 manuscripts and digitization of about 400,000 folios. In a politically volatile environment like Mali, the future of historical research is mostly contingent on the availability of digital archives. While these archives enable research that otherwise could not be conducted, they also limit the research experience in situ and thus affect findings. For the manuscript owners, questions arise about digital imperialism.

This paper considers an under-used and under-discussed archive of unpublished documentary sources that concern the rise and fall of an eastern Congolese warlord, Ngongo Luteta, during the late nineteenth century. It argues that Africanist historians not only need to pay greater attention to unpublished documentary sources – the weight of methodological discussion usually orients around oral sources – but also to treat them with the same interpretive rigor as oral sources. The argument is demonstrated by discussing the existing studies of Ngongo Luteta, which tend to focus on oral fieldwork even while they often employ documentary sources, and, then, pointing to some interpretive strategies for unpublished documentary sources that suggests a more complicated history of the interactions between Ngongo Luteta and the emergent Congo Free State.

This brief introduction to a special section on Digital History in African Studies situates three articles on recent digital humanities initiatives among African historians within the broader histories of the use of digital methodologies in the study of Africa. In particular, it highlights the way that Africanist digital scholarship sits at the intersection of digital historical representation, community engagement, and academic research. While Africanist digital history builds on the work of a much broader digital humanities community, historians of Africa also draw on their discipline’s long history of methodological innovation to raise important questions about the potential contributions and limitations of digital technologies in academic research.

Recent archaeological and paleoenvironmental research in the Ndali Crater Lakes Region (NCLR) of western Uganda provide important new insights into anthropogenic impacts on moist forests to the East of the Rwenzori Mountains. This research significantly changes previous interpretations of paleoenvironmental records in western Uganda and helps to distinguish climate change from human impacts. By drawing on multiple sources such as historical linguistics, archaeological evidence, and environmental proxies for change, a new picture emerges for a region that was a cultural crossroads for early Bantu-speakers and Central Sudanic-speakers between 400 BCE and 1000 CE. Detailed archaeological data and well-dated sites provide fine-grained evidence that closely fits episodes of significant environmental change, including a later and separate phase of forest clearance, soil degradation, and lake pollution caused by the saturation of the landscape by Bigo-related populations between 1300 and 1650 CE.

Fresque de changements environnementaux induits par l’homme et le climat dans l’ouest de l’Ouganda : la région des lacs du cratère de Ndali

Karamojong oral tradition provides several trickster characters such as the rabbit, the self-appointed moral guard. This rabbit pretends to defend the weak and the powerless, yet secretly steals from them, but in the end gets exposed for what it really is. Then there is the clever fox, which skilfully tricks people with its clever manipulations, convincing them that it is honest and upright, not unlike the rabbit, but then it too gets caught stealing. Napeikisina, the one-breasted villain trickster, the symbol of humanity's penchant for evil, masquerades her insatiable cannibalistic propensities and desire for recognition, but her penchant for evil eventually becomes apparent, thus frightening people, and like all the other tricksters she too gets caught.

Ben Knighton seems to possess some of the attributes of some of these tricksters. With amazing legerdemain, he skilfully manages to conjure up oral and written texts in an attempt to persuade people to believe that what they read is authentic, in order to offer himself as the paramount authority on all matters Karamoja. But he too ends up getting caught, like all the Karamojong tricksters.

This article argues that historians will have a new understanding of northeast and east Africa if they recall the medieval meaning of the terms Zanj and Ahabish, or Habasha. Before the fifteenth century the term Zanj included the diverse populations of northeast Africa, so should not be exclusive of the populations of coastal east Africa. Likewise, Habasha or Ahabish was not confined to the peoples of the northern Horn but included the diverse peoples of coastal east Africa. Uncovering older meanings of Zanj and Ahabish helps to identify elusive groups of ancient northeast Africans referred to as northern Zanj, Zanj-Ahabish, Ahabish, and Damadim. For identification, this article presents three types of historical data overlooked in the sources. The first consists of the interchangeable names northern Zanj, Damadim, Ahabish, Zanj-Ahabish, and Zanj ed-Damadim to recast the term Zanj and identify the Damadim or Yamyam. The second is the broadly inclusive meaning before the fifteenth century of the term Habasha. The third is the reported eloquence in their Buttaa ceremony of the northern Zanj, and the institutional setting of the Buttaa within the Oromo Gadaa system.

The appeal of history to us all is in the last analysis poetic. But the poetry of history does not consist of imagination roaming at-large, but of imagination pursuing the fact and fastening upon it. That which compels the historian to “scorn delights and live laborious days” is the ardour of his own curiosity to know what really happened long ago in that land of mystery which we call the past.

This paper is about qualitative research methods, and thus more about hard labor than about poetry and imagination. But to those scholars to whom the above citation gives meaning there is a clear connection between hard labour, imagination and poetry. As scholars, we are looking for facts, and looking for facts can be hard work. As scholars, we also know that facts must be ascribed with meaning in order to become sources, a process of interpretation which demands both imagination and poetry.

I will present some of the challenges we face when doing anthropological historical research in Africa, and I will argue that the tools of qualitative methods will have to be sharpened and modified with this particular goal in mind. The main aim will be to discuss how we can acquire information in an African setting by analyzing the role of the interview as a communicative event. Other important topics to be treated are African oral tradition, the culture and tradition (the metacommunicative competence) of the respondents, and their use of metaphors to convey meaning.

The main purpose of this article is to explore the potential of the “List of Slaves unlawfully held in slavery by British Indian Subjects at Zanzibar & its Dependencies, who have been emancipated at the Consulate” for historical slavery studies. This list, a result of the first British-led manumission campaign against slave ownership along the east coast of Africa, is the most comprehensive list detailing slave ownership and slaves for the pre-colonial coastal society of East Africa. Despite of the importance and uniqueness, both this list and the campaign have not been yet fully analyzed. This article challenges to extract the data as much as possible from the list, not only sex ratio and ethnic origin of enslaved individuals, but also their identity and emotional status. Moreover, this article shows an aspect of slave ownership by British Indian subjects from the list.

My case study is taken from the northern Igbo of Nigeria and focuses on the village-group of Ihuwe, which name is today rendered as Ihube— thanks to its Anglicization during the period of colonial rule. This not-withstanding, the people still call themselves “Ihuwe,” the form I use in this paper. The Northern Igbo area, especially the area around Awka, Orlu, and Okigwe, is commonly regarded as the heartland of Igbo culture and civilization. Ihuwe, in that portion of old Okigwe Division known today as Okigwe Local Government Area (LGA), lies in a region of southern Nigeria that has been identified as having witnessed human activity from very early times, at least from the period of Acheulean culture. It also lies on the geographically and historically prominent Nsukka-Udi-Okigwe cuesta, which archeology tells us entered the Iron Age quite early in African history, no later than about the eighth century BCE. We are thus dealing with one of the areas of ancient human occupation, as well as an area known for its dense demographic profile. It is these features–early human settlement and occupation with its attendant consequence of severely attenuated oral history, dense demographic profile, and being the cradle land of Igbo culture—that help to define the Northern Igbo and mark them out from the Western, Eastern, Southern, and North-Eastern Igbo, believed to be relatively more recent descendants from them.

Perhaps another feature that calls for mention here is their political culture. Although, like their other Igbo kinsmen, they could boast of having evolved only micro-, and therefore weak, states (what social anthropologists of the colonial period refused to refer to as states), they had their own special model of these micro-states.

This article discusses the methodology behind the development of new tools of research for African history that are a user-friendly source for public engagement. The focus is on biographical profiles of West African people during the era of the trans-Atlantic slave trade, which is an innovative approach to social history. The representation of enslaved Africans has typically been numbers recorded in logs and accounts compiled by slave merchants and captains. Freedom Narratives is an open-source relational database that reveals the people who constitute those numbers.

The introduction explores the ways in which Jan Vansina wrote Africa’s earlier history. It argues that he overturned paradigmatic knowledge in part through policing boundaries between disciplines, but always in search of new knowledge. The boundaries enclosed different kinds of labor in producing evidence about the past. Each kind of labor teaches the scholar something about place, responsibility, and imagination. These afterlives of working in Africa informed Vansina’s interdisciplinarian publishing strategies, shape-shifting them into the imaginative, and prompting new generations of scholars to chart their own paths.