My paper dealing with the Andriambahoaka universal sovereigns and the Indonesian heritage that they embodied brought out the eminently religious character of the Malagasy marvelous tales, disarticulated fragments from a Malay myth of origin. As Françoise Raison has noted, the religious value of Ibonia was still perfectly felt in Imerina during the first half of the nineteenth century. I do not hark back to the possibilities offered by the notion of Hikayat--or in Malagasy the Tantara--at once narration and imitation--“semblance,” as it was called in the Arthurian Romance of the Grail. These notions refer to these Shiʿite syntheses, sometimes with gnostic and dualist ideas borrowed from neo-platonism and the ancient Babylonian philosophies of Lights which, introduced into Madagascar by an Indonesian relay, conceived the descendants of Andriambahoaka in the image of that of the imāms descended from Muḥammad through his daughter Fāṭima and her husband ʿAlī--prototype of Ramini, ancestor of the ZafiRaminia and fourth Caliph, but more importantly the first imām, initiator, after the cycle of revelation that Muḥammad closed, of the cycle of explanation, of initiation, of the “return,”, that is, of walayāt.

We are far from this “pedagogical model” that I evoked previously with regard to the other celestial line of the knights seeking the Grail. Far, too, from the unsatisfactory notions of ideology or the “imaginary” such as Georges Duby uses in his recent work, even though his chapter on “L'exemplarité celeste” returns to an infinitely richer universe, very near that which Henry Corbin describes. Can one truly explain from an agnostic point of view facts that are essentially perceived and experienced as religious? In any event going from Ibonia and the marvelous tales of the Andriambahoaka to the historical legends and genealogies in the first chapter of the Tantara ny Andriana of Callet, translated as Histoire des rois, we pass on to something entirely different.

Many readers have probably noticed that the manuals of historical method which deal with verbal societies are primarily concerned with the sources available and the application of a critique to them. This is true for McCall's or Gabel and Bennett's works on Africa. But what is to be done with the sources once they are ready for evaluation remains vague. How does one reconstruct the past? How does one explain, or eventually interpret, history? Of the two works mentioned, only the first pays some attention to the question of “historical synthesis.’ McCall lists three possibilities: (a) that the sources support each other; (b) that they contradict each other; and (c) that they have no common reference or meeting point. This last situation is the most common in African history and indicates merely that not enough is known and that eventually new data could lead to new interpretative situations-either (a) or (b). The manual stresses that sources should be classified by discipline so that comparison of sources yields either confirmation or contradiction, with obvious and known data reinforcing the validity of the result. Once this is achieved it would seem that the job is finished, except for the warning that historical reconstruction requires a certain type of mind: imaginative yet disciplined.

Yet the job is not finished. By comparing we have only established the degree of validity of reported events or situations. We have only verified how the observation, to borrow a term from the scientific experimental method, is correct. The impression remains that historical research is fairly mechanical: to find sources, subject them to a critique, assemble them. Reconstruction follows, with suitable use of imagination. That is the craft. Yet anyone who works with historical materials knows that that is not the practice of the craft. Josephine Tey's novel The Daughter of Time features a police sergeant who more nearly exemplifies historical practice–he guesses, ponders, backtracks, and finds sources almost by intuition. If he had made a few more mistakes he would have been a recognizable historian at work. A recent volume, The Historian's Workshop, though impressionistic, also yields a more realistic picture. In the real world historians start out with a hunch, an idea which leads them to an interest in documents or in oral traditions. Then the data suggest what Popper calls a historical interpretation – “untestable points of view.” The practitioner feels that the interpretation is not enough. It should be doubted and controlled by reference to more data until the point is reached at which no more control is possible. Then the historian feels satisfied with the result–even though it still remains an interpretation, because there remains the selective point of view implicit in the idea that initiated the research.

Historians rarely pause to reflect on the history and theory of our own discipline, but it is a salutary exercise, particularly when the discipline is as young as African history. Twenty years ago a majority of African peoples emerged from colonial domination and acquired their independence. In that same year their history was also symbolically liberated from domination by the activities of Europeans in Africa through the inauguration of the Journal of African History. And one year later the new African history was given what was to become one of its dominant methodologies with the publication of Jan Vansina's De la tradition Orale.

African history was to be the history of Africans, a history that had begun well before the European ‘discovery’ of Africa. The problem was sources. Western historiography was firmly based on written sources which could be arranged in sequence and analyzed to trace incremental changes and establish cause and effect relationships in evolutionary patterns of change. Unlike written documents which were recorded in the past and passed down unchanged into the present, oral traditions had to be remembered and retold through successive generations to reach the present. Their accuracy was thus subject to lapses in memory and falsification in the long chains of transmission from the initial report of the event in the past to the tradition told in the present. To overcome these problems Vansina established an elaborate and meticulous methodology by which traditions should be collected and transcribed, their chains of transmission traced and variants compared, and obvious biases and falsifications stripped off to produce primary documents suitable for writing history within the western genre.

There is a growing interest in the historical attitudes to work globally. This paper studies the stereotype of the “lazy African” in European travel accounts from precolonial West Africa. This was one of the central aspects in the European construction of an African “other” during this period, and came to be used as a justification for much European oppression in Africa in both precolonial and colonial times. It is argued in the paper that the stereotype has existed for much longer than suggested in previous literature in the field. Previous studies have also made over-simplified statements about the stereotype, since it overlooks a most significant trend among European writers, who described not only idleness, but also industriousness, among the Africans they wrote about. By the late eighteenth century, finally, the development of an anti-slavery ideology was followed by a challenge to the whole stereotype.

Although the Western world knows what a museum is, in many parts of Africa its purpose is an open question. To many Africans it is an alien institution introduced by colonialists. Their intentions were good: they wished to study and exhibit local works of art and artifacts and preserve them from deterioration and depredations by local and foreign traders. Yet collecting important art objects and artifacts, some of which were still part of active rituals, and locking them up in a building rather resembling a prison, was to many, Africans and foreigners alike, inimical in principle. Nor did many Africans show much interest in the displays within the glass cases, unless such exhibits pertained to their own particular ethnic heritage. The museums were therefore seen as white elephants staffed by eccentric colonialists, assisted by Africans glad of a job, and visited mainly by foreigners. If we trace the origin and development of the museum in Europe, we may discover why these African museums, as modeled on European institutions, failed to make an impact on the lives of Africans or to meet the needs of the communities they were meant to serve. However, we shall also see how in time certain projects have transformed them into cultural and social centers of great vitality.

The idea of Africanization is arguably one of the most important and prevalent in African historiography and African studies. I first encountered this notion some eight years ago when I started graduate school. With a background in Mexican and Latin American history, I found it necessary to immerse myself in the historiography of Africa. It was in this process that I encountered the idea of Africanization. It was not always identified in this manner, but it was clear that historians were, in one way or another, articulating a concern about how “African” was African history.

The objective of this paper is to examine the history of Africanization in African historiography. It departs from two basic premises. First, the issues that come with the idea of Africanization are more pronounced in the field of African history. When compared to other fields, such as Latin American history, this indigenizing of history is not given nearly so much attention. Second, the idea that African history needs to be Africanized has been taken for granted, and has not been critically examined. Here I will contend that the historical conditions that have framed the emergence and development of African historiography have made it necessary to emphasize the issue of Africanization. I will also argue that those conditions have changed in the past fifty years, and that the questions raised in the quest to Africanize history should be redefined in view of the new challenges for African history and of historiography at large.

Uganda has been in the world headlines since the mid-1980s, first as a nation severely hit by HIV and AIDS, and later, from the late 1990s onwards, as the first country in sub-Saharan Africa that has managed to reverse a generalised HIV epidemic. Countless newspaper articles, television and radio documentaries and broadcasts, papers, books, and films have been produced about AIDS in Uganda, making the epidemic one of the most thoroughly researched and documented in the world. Medical doctors, virologists, epidemiologists and social and behavioral scientists, both Ugandan and expatriate, have produced massive amounts of scientific information about it since the early 1980s, in addition to which there have been policy papers, evaluation reports, and action plans produced by various government ministries, international donor agencies, and national and international NGOs and relief organizations which document the epidemic from administrative, developmental, and humanitarian perspectives.

Uganda's AIDS epidemic has been publicized worldwide through the news media and various international agencies. It is being constantly monitored not only by national authorities and international health experts, but by myriads of Ugandan and international organizations, media, academics, and concerned members of the public using modern means of communication. Some of these national and international bodies not only monitor, report and educate, but demand their say in how the epidemic should be managed. Uganda has become a testing ground for medical and behavioral interventions, as exemplified by AIDS vaccination trials, the social marketing of condoms, antiretroviral treatment, and, recently, by the male circumcision trial. Positive results have then been marketed to other countries in sub-Saharan Africa as successful AIDS prevention strategies.

Most historians writing about twentieth-century Africa have, at one time or other, used colonial statistical data. When we do this, we normally add a disclaimer, pointing out that these statistics are likely to be unreliable, and then proceed to use them anyway. But surely, we should be able to say something more definite about the reliability of these data? If we know more about the process by which these statistics were collected, for which aims, and with what preconceived ideas in mind, we should be able to establish, if not a margin of error, then at least some idea of which aspects of colonial statistics are more reliable than others. Furthermore, the process of colonial data-collecting was linked to establishing ethnic and other categories, which have since become generally accepted. This paper addresses these questions in an analysis of the context and contents of the published report of the 1921 Census of Southern Nigeria, and discusses its usefulness as a source for historians. The issues I discuss here with specific reference to this Nigerian census are characteristic for colonial censuses in general and should therefore be of relevance to all historians using colonial census data, and also—more generally—help us to understand how some of the most basic categories describing African societies have been constructed in the process of the acquisition of information by colonial governments.

Europe and the Americas have long dominated studies of transatlantic exchanges and much more is known about European participation in the Atlantic world than of its African counterpart. Current knowledge of how those parts of Africa located a few miles away from the African littoral contributed to the early modern Atlantic World is particularly sparse. This is despite the fact that the slave trade was the largest branch of transatlantic migration between Columbian contact and 1870, and that it is becoming apparent that Africans and indigenous Americans helped shape the new political and economic power structures, as well as the post-Columbian worlds of culture and labor.

Assessments of the impact of any group on the global stage must begin with the nature of the group itself, and thus efforts to raise the African profile in Atlantic scholarship and to focus on the agency of Africans must quickly face the contentious issue of ethnicity. From the broadest perspective, it is odd that the way the ancestors of the Atlantic World defined themselves should have become so much more contentious among Africanists and Afro-Americanists than among those scholars who study Europe and Europeans overseas. At the outset of the repeopling of the Americas, the European state existed in nascent form in only Spain, Britain, and France. The predominance of the nation-state in the way the world is organized in the twenty-first century—rather than its status in 1492—has perhaps led scholars to stress the contrasts between Africa and Europe on issues of early modern nationhood, and, more generally, human identity.

From the time of the translation into English of Jan Vansina's Oral Tradition in 1965, the use of oral traditions as historical sources has become an increasingly technical exercise. Historians of the non-literate societies of Africa in particular have been alterted to, among others, such things as “floating gaps” and “hour-glass effects” in traditions, elongated and collapsed genealogies, the peculiarities and fallibility of human memory, the overlaying of oral traditions with successive ruling group histories, and the functioning of oral traditions as cultural charters.

Some scholars consider this ‘reification of method’ to have wrought a tool increasingly honed for historical analysis, able to lay bare within oral tradition historical facts, consistent within themselves and with other oral traditions. Others argue that the elaborateness of the methodology reflects the inherently unreliable nature of oral traditions as historical sources. They suggest that, at best, oral traditions are able to provide reliable data only about the interests of a particular group at the particular moment when they were recorded.

This paper addresses the debate over the status of oral traditions as historical sources, with particular reference to the use of traditions in the illumination of the precolonial past. Drawing on some of the insights of the new social historians concerning ideology and first-hand oral testimony, it examines the relationship between ideology and oral traditions in non-literate societies. The argument developed here is that, far from simply representing the interests of a particular group, oral traditions often reflect ideological struggles between the rulers and ruled in a society.

This paper reviews Andrew Battell’s primary source material for the Jaga (Imbangala) of Angola as printed by Samuel Purchas from 1613 to 1625 in Purchas, his pilgrimage and Purchas, his Pilgrimes. It argues that Purchas most often altered Battell’s data in response to rivalries and Reformation politics in England rather than on new information from Battell. A broad, comparative reading of Purchas’s materials and statistical analysis of his editorial practices demonstrates that Purchas exerted more effort to counter data based on hearsay in the popular Relation of Pigafetta and Lopes than on carefully recording eyewitness data from Andrew Battell.

Historians have relied on a variety of sources to analyze Africa's encounter with Europe and response to colonialism. Several scholars, who have published in the Heinemann African Social History Series, have relied on oral accounts to add an indigenous perspective to the history of colonialism in Africa. African history nevertheless suffers from a lack of other sources, such as diaries, journals, and personal narratives, which can enrich the historical narrative. Letters of petitions provide one of the very few opportunities to locate African men and women's voices as they confronted the new political, economic, judicial and social system that emerged in the colonial context. Petitions were widely used by every class of the African population in the colonial period and can help to re-evaluate African-European interactions and dialogues in a colonial context. Their existence challenges the notion of colonial authorities as a hegemonic force in the making of colonized societies in light of new forms of evidence that redefine this encounter. Petitions were used by individuals as well as groups as a means to seek remedy for grievance for a number of types of actions, ranging from taxation, court cases and a variety of other issues.

You are in Osu, Accra. As you walk along Castle Drive toward Christiansborg Castle, there is row of four houses on your left and a large open field on your right. The field, with the grass carefully tended, is the locus of the old Danish cemetery, where the gravestones that remained have been mounted into a low wall built on the sea side of the field. Across the street, one of the houses, the second one from your starting point, has a stone name plate over the main door bearing the inscription: FREDERICHS MINDE 1840 W.I.WULFF. Scandinavians who have visited Ghana know about this house. They know that it was built by a Danish civil servant who had worked for the Danish Board of Trade, that he had established a family there, and they may know that he died of illness there at the age of thirty-three. They also know that by simply going to the door and knocking they will be welcomed and permitted to look around.

The residents of the house—and indeed it is a residence—who so graciously receive unexpected and unannounced visitors, are at present members of the Wulff-Cochrane family. When I was last there it was Mr. and Mrs. Leslie Wulff-Cochrane who opened the doors to me and my three friends. We were shown around the house, treated to the fine view of the ocean from the living room, and then taken down into the basement to see the singular element of the house, the grave of Wulff J. Wulff.

No event has an autonomous life. It's always limited to things around it.
Jean-Luc Godard (1966)

It only takes three generations for personal contact to be lost, and then the
memory, if it exists at all, passes on to strangers, us.
Peter Greenaway (1994)

In this journal (HA 20:185-235, hereafter 1993), Lee and Guenther attack me personally and my work, particularly my book Land Filled with Flies, which elsewhere they (1995:298) say has “a density of error and misrepresentation unrivaled in recent anthropology.” This is not the first nor the last such attack, which began in 1989 when, in a symposium at the annual meeting of the American Anthropological Association, Lee implied that I was complicit in destroying data that he insinuated I wished not to be available for further inspection. He also then accused me, along with my colleague James Denbow, of pandering to the supposed need of the Government of Botswana to create a homogeneous national identity. We were to have done this by orienting our research toward a subversion of evidence of differences among the various peoples—especially “Bushmen”—of the country. Lee has never retracted this nor his accusation of data forgery, although he (1993:20n6) has elliptically acknowledged that the latter is false. Since then, Lee and Guenther, together and alone, have expanded their litany of alleged malfeasance and intensified their attacks. Most recently, Guenther (1999) continues to accuse me of “doctoring” evidence (this term was first used in 1993:217).

Les employés africains de l'Etat colonial font aujourd'hui l'objet d'un important renouveau historiographique. Des travaux récents sur les enseignants, les sages-femmes, les tirailleurs, ou encore les interprètes ont considérablement renouvelé l'histoire africaine. Dans le même temps, les termes désignant les groupes sociaux situés dans l'entre-deux de la société coloniale se multiplient: Intermédiaires culturels, intermédiaires coloniaux, middle figures, middle men, médiateurs, courtiers/brokers, etc. La question se pose dès lors des sources et méthodes pertinentes pour étudier ces catégories sociales. La présente contribution propose de s'intéresser à un type de source encore sous-utilisé par les historiens de l'Afrique: les dossiers de carrière. Elle défend l'idée que ces sources peuvent enrichir considérablement notre compréhension des carrières africaines au sein de l'Etat colonial et, partant, l'histoire des rapports entre Etat et sociétés en Afrique.

L'étude de cas concerne l'histoire de la police civile au Togo. L'enquête porte sur un corpus de 114 dossiers individuels de policiers ayant servi entre les années 1940 et le début des années 1960, dossiers actuellement conservés au Ministère de la Fonction Publique et de la Réforme Administrative à Lomé. Le recours à ce type de source n'est pas le résultat d'un parti pris, mais le constat, au terme d'une enquête historiographique et de terrain, de leur utilité pour l'histoire des corps professionnels d'Etat. Aujourd'hui bien connus des historiens et anthropologues européanistes, les dossiers de carrière—et, plus généralement, les dossiers personnels—restent pourtant peu utilisés par les historiens de l'Afrique.

Writing thirty years ago the historian of the Majimaji rebellion, Gilbert Gwassa, emphasized the purely Tanzanian nature of the uprising, as seen in the ideology which he believed was the inspiration for the widespread war against German colonialism. To Gwassa, southern Tanzanians created an innovative, secular ideology after the turn of the twentieth century which enabled Africans to resist German colonialism supra-ethnically rather than locally. Gwassa was adamant that the Majimaji ideology owed nothing to outside influences.

Gwassa's contention has been largely unchallenged despite obvious paradoxes. Majimaji emerged in a region widely permeated with Islamic influences by 1905, the time of the rebellion. Moreover, the Christian colonial power structure had been present in the outbreak region for some twenty years by 1905, while Christian missionaries had been active in Tanzania for almost forty years. By the time the Majimaji historical tradition was being written in Tanzania in the 1960s, the nation included many Muslims and Christians, including many of Gwassa's research informants, who helped shape his interpretation of Majimaji. Aside from these circumstantial suggestions of the possibility of an externally-influenced Majimaji tradition, a close reading of archival sources from the German period, including several documents which have not been considered in the historiographical tradition, suggest that Christian and Islamic influences helped to shape the writing of Majimaji, if not the resistance movement itself. This paper will examine some of these “Abrahamic” sources of the Majimaji tradition, and consider how they might have been used to formulate a Majimaji epic which has become a standard icon of early African colonial history.

This study stresses the role of common women in the history of Benguela in the nineteenth century. I emphasize the importance of parish records to unveil sectors of the society that tend to be invisible in the history of Angola, such as farmers, poor women who acted as vendors in the urban centers, and particularly, enslaved women. While some attention has been paid to merchant women, the so-called donas, and on political leaders, particularly Queen Nzinga, the same cannot be said about the poor and the enslaved women. Parish records allow us to access bits of information on the lives of women who did not leave written records and did not gain attention from the Portuguese authorities.

The conquest of Whydah by the Dahomians under King Agaja in March 1727 was indisputably an event of great historical importance. In Dahomian tradition it was recalled above all-- with a degree of oversimplication--as marking the beginning of Dahomey's involvement in the Atlantic slave trade, and was regarded as Agaja's greatest triumph, commemorated in his surname “Hunyito” (“taker of ships”) and his heraldic emblem, a European ship. It also made a considerable impression on contemporary European observers, being perceived from the first as an especially dramatic and significant event - “a great Revolution,” in the words of one eyewitness. Part of the impact of the fall of Whydah lay in the scale and comprehensiveness of the human and material destruction which the Dahomian conquest involved, and the contrast with Whydah's former prosperity: “such a terrible Desolation by the Sword, Fire and Famine, as hardly ever befel any Country… It was a lamentable Story to hear, and a dismal Sight to see, the Desolation of so fine a Country, lately exceedingly populous, now destroyed in such a manner by Fire and Sword”. In addition, the defeat of Whydah by Dahomey had been wholly unexpected. Before the event Bulfinch Lamb, an English trader held captive in Dahomey, had advised Agaja against attacking Whydah, urging that given the large population and access to imported European firearms of the latter “there was no probability of Success.”

In the late summer of 1976, amid considerable publicity, Doubleday and Company published Alex Haley's Roots: The Saga of an American Family. Almost overnight author and book gained considerable fame. Americans and soon others accepted the essential validity of the story of Haley's maternal ancestors, which reached back to the Gambia River and to the eighteenth century. Within a few months of its publication Roots had been serialized for televison. Before a year had passed Doubleday had sold over 1,500,000 copies of the book, it had gone into translation in several dozen languages, and Haley had been awarded a special Pulitzer Prize, neither for fiction nor non-fiction, but for something in between felicitously denominated “faction.” The magnitude of Roots' impact makes criticism of the basis of its argument somewhat indivious but perhpas all the more necessary.

One aspect of Roots that added considerably to its popularity was the apparent authenticity of the genealogy which Haley used to identify his African ancestor. Haley claimed that, largely through oral history, he had proved the existence of his ancestor, one Kunta Kinte, who had been kidnapped into slavery over two hundred years ago and brought directly to the British North American colonies. A decade of diligent searching had made it possible for Haley to piece together the basic outlines of his ancestry. To nearly everyone who read the book or heard the story of his quest, such success in locating his roots in Africa, after a century of slavery and another of difficult freedom, seemed to justify the endeavor.

The rise of the Kingdom of Dahomey in the first quarter of the eighteenth century was a watershed event in the political history of precolonial West Africa. This article draws on a newly rediscovered copy of William Snelgrave’s diary who visited King Agaja of Dahomey in April 1727. The diary provides the fullest account to date of Agaja’s motives for invading Whydah in March 1727. In addition, the Diary provides the earliest evidence confirming the bona fides of Bulfinch Lambe’s 1731 mission to England to establish commercial relations with King George II.