This paper seeks to contribute to the ongoing debate on African methodology—sources, issues, methods, challenges—by presenting a Ghanaian case study, for, whereas there are a number of broad overviews of African methodology, some of which include surveys of regions such as eastern or southern Africa, as well as countries like Nigeria and Senegal, a study specifically devoted to examining historical production in Ghana is yet to be essayed. This paper, however, shares common concerns with African historiography in general in terms of the quest for distinctly African constructions of history as well as the manifold ways in which African historical production might be made to relate more effectively to local contexts.

In a recent contribution to a volume dedicated to honoring Bethwell Ogot, David William Cohen (2001:53) echoed a call which was by no means new but which still has relevance for African historical production today as it did in the 1960s. Emphasizing the need for African voices, he asserted that “…there are realms of knowledge and programs of knowledge production outside the academy, and outside the field situation, that might be understood and drawn upon to work at the reconstruction of the African past.” It is in this light that this piece was originally prepared in connection with Ghana's fiftieth independence anniversary in 2007.

Ghana has had a long span of historical writing dating back several centuries, but a tradition of Ghanaian historiography is only about 50 years old, as is the case with the development of national historiographies throughout much of Africa.

Q. Sir, I would like to know something about messengers and interpreters like Adamu Jakada.

A. Adamu Jakada was the messenger between Emir Abbas and the Europeans. Some of the messengers and interpreters were employed by the emir, and they were royal slaves. Whenever they did something wrong they were replaced by others. Adamu was a slave of the emir.

Q. Where and when was he born?

A. He was born in Kano, and he came from the family of slaves.

Q. Is there any story about him?

A. All we know is that he was chosen by the District Officer (D.O.) He would take messages from the emir to the white men and return with the white man's reply to the emir.

Q. Were messengers and interpreters powerful?

A. Yes, indeed.

Q. Were they nice people?

A. It is when they became powerful that issues of misunderstanding occurred. You know when somebody becomes powerful the person would demonstrate good and bad qualities. Some of the messengers and interpreters were like that.

Q. Were they wealthy?

A. They were slaves of the emir. Everything that they owned, they took them from the servants of the emir. Also, they were paid by government.

Q. What did people think of their work?

A. People respected and feared them because of their closeness to the emir and the Europeans.

Q. Did they speak or write in English?

A. Before they learnt English they used to work as servants to the Europeans. So they learned English from them.

History in Africa carried an article in 1992 entitled “The European Introduction of Crops into West Africa in Precolonial Times.” I wrote this to correct an impression left by several historians that only maize and cassava were worth mentioning. My reading of precolonial African history had made it very clear that a great many new crops were brought to the continent during the slave-trade period. My initial geographical focus was what used to be called Lower Guinea, roughly the coast from Cape Palmas to Mt. Cameroon, but inevitably my research took in all of western Africa from Senegal to Angola and up to the southern fringe of the Sahara. My findings were admittedly interim, a sort of database for future refinement. And yet I was able to identify 86 introduced crops.

It was ingenuous of me to expect that one paper would suffice to over-turn what had become conventional wisdom. In 1995 John Iliffe, in 1997 Elizabeth Isichei, in 1998 John Reader repeated the maize-cassava mantra. In 2002 Christopher Ehret expanded the duo of exotic crops to include tobacco, peanuts, New World beans, Asian rice and sugar cane. David W. Phillipson reiterated in 2005 what he had said 20 years earlier, citing only maize, cassava and bananas. And in 2006 James L.A. Webb Jr. named just four: maize, cassava, peanuts and potatoes.

This pattern of minimization may reflect what seems to be a general disinclination of historians to dig deeply into botany. An important recent book titled Writing African History devotes only 17 of 510 pages to the subject.

In 1998 David N. Beach revisited the 1896-97 central MaShonaland rising in colonial Zimbabwe in an article titled “An Innocent Woman Unjustly Accused? Charwe, Medium of the Nehanda Mhondoro Spirit, and the 1896-97 Central Shona Rising in Zimbabwe.” Beach's main thesis was that, contrary to conventional wisdom that placed Nehanda-Charwe (and other leaders) at the center of those anti-European settler rebellions, Nehanda-Charwe might have been “an innocent woman unjustly accused.” For Beach, upstart Kaguvi-Gumboreshumba (a male spiritual leader) might have been the real hero, for he was to be found in all the sources and his tracks were better traceable than Nehanda-Charwe, who had a sporadic presence in the same sources.

Since Beach's 1998 study, I have not come across any other original study that has extended or disputed his arguments; to that end, I consider this study a response to Beach's study and an invitation to revisit the historiography of early colonial Zimbabwe through feminist lenses. My main aim is to revisit two major issues Beach raised in his study, and to look at them through a feminist lens in order to understand whether Nehanda-Charwe was indeed an “innocent woman unjustly accused” or whether something else was at play. After giving a brief background to the rebellion in MaShonaland, I will look at the issue of the credibility of evidence given by Africans to colonial officials about those who were up in arms against the colonial authority, the British South Africa Company (BSAC), with a focus on women's testimonies.

The Bakgalagari were classified by Guthrie (1948) as S30 and by Cole (1954) as 60/2/5. They incorporate ethnic groups such as Bangologa, Bashaga, Babolaongwe, Balala, Bakhena, Baritjhauba, and Bakgwatheng and Baphaleng, the latter of which do not speak Shekgalagari any more. At the moment, Bakgalagari are only found in Botswana. They are thought to have arrived in southern Africa more than 2000 years ago, together with other Bantu groups (Tlou/Campbell 1997:33), and were the earliest Sotho-Tswana group to inhabit the Madikwe and Limpopo river basins (Figure 1) around 900 and 1000 CE (Tlou/Campbell, 1997).

Around 1200 CE, the Bakgalagari were already inhabiting the peripheries of this area as they migrated into Botswana, where they are estimated to have arrived around 1000 CE, as Figure 2 illustrates (cf. Tlou/Campbell, 1997:90). They would later be pushed into the Kgalagadi desert, which reinforced the peripheral and distant location of some of them from the rest of the Sotho-Tswana groups that subsequently inhabited the country.

History suggests that there were ethnic rivalries amongst the Bakgalagari, and they consequently split into various ethnic groups (Tlou/Campbell, 1997:90). These ethnic groups were dispersed in various directions in the country at different times as shown in Figure 3. Figure 3 shows the historical base and the subsequent movements of the Bakgalagari starting earlier than 1400 CE. It is possible that these movements might have been reversed at various times, and also that some people at a later stage took the same directions to find their ethic counterparts (e.g., Babolaongwe at around 1650 CE).

Bi-lingual, Bi-cultural

able to slip from “How's life”

to M'estan volviendo loca,

able to sit in a paneled office

drafting memos in smooth English,

able to order in fluent Spanish

at a Mexican restaurant,

American but hyphenated,

viewed by Anglos as perhaps exotic,

perhaps inferior, definitely different,

viewed by Mexicans as alien

(their eyes say, “You may speak

Spanish but you're not like me”)

an American to Mexicans

a Mexican to Americans

a handy token

sliding back and forth

between the fringes of both worlds

by smiling

by masking the discomfort

of being pre-judged

Bi-laterally.

This paper presents a micro-scale examination of archeological field praxis and its impact on archeologists, students (foreign and indigenous), and the local communities that both host and labor for them. It is a reflexive journey that attempts to bring coherence to the multiple and changing registers of meaning, contradiction, and transformation that have taken place during excavations at Bosutswe in “post-colonial” Botswana. We discuss our interactions with one another and our encounters with “the past” as we sought to validate, transform, or escape the contemporary entanglements of multilateral “pre-judgments” that have their roots deep in the soil of colonial encounter.

Pat Mora in her short poem, Two Worlds, captures some of the contradictions inherent in a post-modern, post-colonial, transnational world, where one is sometimes offered the possibility of inhabiting multiple universes, with multiple cultural and linguistic positionalities, and sometimes even trans-ethnic or transnational identities as possible choices.

The history of history-writing in the Niger Delta was first developed by E.J. Alagoa. However, his work, which covers the periods from 1508 to 1988, does not go into the twenty-first century. This is the case as well for N.C. Ejituwu, who extended the Delta historiography to 1999 but without including his own innovations. For this reason, this paper discusses the innovations brought by Ejituwu's role in the development of Niger Delta historiography. These are his contributions to the training of historians, the introduction of feminist history, biographical writing, and history concourse. Others include his reconstruction of the settlement histories of many Eastern and Central Niger Delta groups. Its impact on the development of the Delta historiography, analyzed here, furthered historical research in the region. Although largely a study of the work of N.C.Ejituwu, this paper is also intended as an overview of Niger Delta regional history of history writing.

According to Ake, development concerns human creativity, socially or economically. N.C. Ejituwu has demonstrated his creativity in historical writing on aspects of the Niger Delta, a region of some 75,000 square kilometers stretching from the Mahin estuary in the west to the Cross River estuary in the east. This most southerly region of Nigeria has about fifty linguistic groups located on its islands and peninsulas. Historical writing in the Delta concerns these fifty clans of the Ijo ethnic nationality. Their settlement histories have been documented by Alagoa, Cookey, and Ejituwu.

Exactly when Islam arrived on the Swahili coast is difficult to say, but Mombasa was a Muslim town long before the arrival of Vasco da Gama in 1498. During the two centuries or so that the Portuguese-Christians occupied this part of the sea route from Europe to India there were churches in Mombasa and elsewhere in Swahililand, but none has endured. Modern Christianity dates from 1844, when Ludwig Krapf arrived in Mombasa. Before then Mombasa was a “wholly Mohammedan” town. Krapf, a German Lutheran, was employed by the Church Missionary Society (CMS) based in London. Failing to make any converts on the island, Krapf moved into the coastal hinterland, among the Nyika, where Islam was less in evidence and where, therefore, Krapf was more hopeful of success. With remarkable perspicacity he wrote: “Christianity and civilisation ever go hand in hand…. A black bishop and black clergy of the Protestant Church may, ere long, become a necessity in the civilisation of Africa.”

In England, when attention was drawn to the east African slave trade, a settlement of liberated slaves was established on the mainland north of Mombasa island in 1875, and a church built (Emmanuel Church, Frere Town)—the first parcel of land in central Swahililand to be owned by European-Christians. There was still no church on the island. However, this was the zenith of the British imperial power and in the capital of almost every major British overseas possession, it was de rigueur—alongside the Secretariat and the Club—to have a Church of England cathedral.

In 1995 Paul Jenkins, the former Basel Mission archivist, called my attention to Carl Christian Reindorf's Ga manuscripts kept at the archives in Basel, knowing that I had lived and worked in Ghana in the 1980s and that I was able to speak, read, and write the Gã language of Accra and its neigborhood. Of course I already knew Reindorf and his monumental History of the Gold Coast and Asante published in 1895 in English, as I had written my M.A. thesis on late-nineteenth-century Asante history, and moreover I was very much interested in Gã history. Reindorf's massive, substantive, and systematic work about the people of modern southern Ghana may be considered a pioneering intellectual achievement because it was one of the first large-scale historical work about an African region written by an African, and it was highly innovative, including both written sources and oral historical narratives and new methods for the reconstruction of African history. The book has excited interest ever since it first appeared 110 years ago because it contains an unrivaled wealth of information on the history and culture of southern Ghana.

A preliminary glimpse at the two heaps of folios wrapped with linen ropes at the archives showed that the manuscripts-none of them were dated–contained two different versions of the English History. That day, when I first laid my hands on the brownish, carefully folded papers, I was not aware that I was to embark on an intensive period of arduous transcribing and translating work (sometimes “lost in translation”), breathtaking archival investigations in Basel, London, and Accra, and of an exciting text/context research (unearthing sources, excavating informants, examining sediments/versions).

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.

The notion that the colonial entity administered as Ogoja Province represented a Nigerian form of “the frontier” persisted right through the period of British rule in Nigeria. In a late colonial geography, Ogoja and eastern Calabar are referred to as the “pioneer fringe.” Marginalized by the economic geography of colonialism, as a result of its relatively low population density, in contrast to much of southeastern Nigeria, and by virtue of its terrain, crossed by unforded rivers and characterized by heavy, clayey soils which restricted wet-season travel, it could still be characterized in the 1940s as a “traceless praierie [sic]” by one of its most seasoned European observers, and as “the Lost Province” in common colonial parlance. Scholarly exploration has done little to address this marginalization, a fact both pivotal in the administration and development of Ogoja Province and restrictive of our attempts to understand and describe these administrative processes. The dynamics of community, trade, and migration in Ogoja, and the systematic misunderstandings to which these dynamics were subject, both constitute historical processes which call for scrutiny, and help shape development and welfare projects undertaken in the later colonial period and in post-independence Nigeria. This study investigates the problematic interaction of ethnography and administration at the colonial margin, and the implications of this both for the historical study of Ogoja and its hinterland and for economic and social development planning in the area.

On 18 March 1898 Okolu, an Ijesa man, accused Otunba of Italemo ward, Ondo of seizing and enslaving his sister Osun and his niece. Both mother and daughter, enslaved by the Ikale in 1894, had fled from their master in 1895, but as they headed toward Ilesa, the accused seized them. Osun claimed the accused forced her to become his wife, “hoe a farm,” and marked her daughter's face with one deep, bold line on each cheek. Otunba denied the slavery charge, claiming he only “rescued [Osun] from Soba who was taking her away [and] took her for wife.” Itoyimaki, a defense witness, supported the claim that Osun was not Otunba's slave. In his decision, Albert Erharhdt, the presiding British Commissioner, freed the captives and ordered the accused to pay a fine of two pounds. In addition to integrating Osun through marriage, the mark conferred on her daughter a standard feature of Ondo identity. Although this case came up late in the nineteenth century, it represents a trend in precolonial Yorubaland whereby marriages and esthetics served the purpose of ethnic incorporation.

Studies on the roots of African ethnic identity consciousness have concentrated mostly on the activities of outsiders, usually Euro-American Christian missions, repatriated ex-slaves, and Muslims, whose ideas of nations as geocultural entities were applied to various African groups during the era of the slave trade and, more intensely, under colonialism. For instance, prior to the late nineteenth century, the people now called Yoruba were divided into multiple opposing ethnicities. Ethnic wars displaced millions of people, including about a million Yoruba-speakers deported as slaves to the Americas, Sierra Leone, and the central Sudan, mostly between the sixteenth and nineteenth centuries.

This paper presents initial thoughts on the historical, linguistic, and archeological significance of the oral traditions of Nterapo communities in the Salaga area. As members of a minority, and a commoner group in the Gonja traditional sociopolitical system, the Nterapo have not been recognized as relevant as the Nchumuru and Nawuri, who have been highlighted in historical works as autochthones. Historians, cultural anthropologists, and archeologists on Gonja have often failed to identify the Nterapo as being critical for research.

The Nterapo represent a group whose history goes beyond the time of the introduction of Gonja rule in the Volta Basin from the sixteenth century. There is reason to think that the wars of Gonja expansion in the second half of the sixteenth century were particularly brutal ones, in which well-trained cavalry were pitted against local peasantries poorly equipped to withstand the invaders (Wilks et al. 1986:15). Despite this, the Nterapo survived the invasion by accepting and adapting to the process of state formation and emergence of greater sociopolitical complexity in east Gonja. The settlement history and cultural lifeways of the Nterapo can provide insights for the production of premises, conceptual frameworks, and methodological approaches that would create a deeper understanding of human experience in the Salaga area.

Historical method is a systematic body of principles for gathering, critically examining, and presenting the source material of history (Garraghan 1946:33). Written accounts and the spoken word are two important sources of historical information used for historical, anthropological, and archeological research and writing.

The body of knowledge that constituted British imperial writing, and the expression that interacted with it were attempts to engage European readership on the imperial adventure in Africa in the age of the new imperialism. This study is an attempt to address the complex issues involved in the production of historical knowledge about precolonial Benin to justify British colonial rule. The argument advanced in this paper is that, since imperial discourse set out to deal with history in terms of civilization, British imperial writing was a struggle to articulate certain ideas about Benin into a position of dominance before the British public. As Mary Louise Pratt explains, “depicting the civilizing mission as an aesthetic project is a strategy the west has often used for defining others as available for and in need of its benign and beautifying intervention.” British imperial discourse will form the basis of the discussion in this paper.

Imperial discourse and its subjectivity raises questions about issues of power and privilege of those writers who were determined to sustain their voices in the debate on European imperialism in Africa. Their approach to the constitution of knowledge about Benin was one of many ways that opened the frontiers of knowledge about African states and societies to redefine civilization, albeit for the purposes of understanding various meanings and implications in this intellectual assault. This provides a vital entry point for examining the European colonial approach to the construction of the image of Africa. The aim is to demonstrate how this process suggests a connection from imperial expansionism to forms of knowledge and expression that reaffirmed metropolitan authority in the context of colonial subjugation.

There are many things that it is like, this storytelling business. One of them (so she says in one of the paragraphs she has not crossed out yet) is a bottle with a genie in it. When the storyteller opens the bottle, the genie is released into the world, and it costs all hell to get him back in again. Her position … better, on the whole, that the genie stay in the bottle.

So says the narrator of the protagonist of J.M. Coetzee's novel, Elizabeth Costello. Costello, an aging novelist, philosophizes at a point in the book where Coetzee has conspired to provoke a moment of ethical reflection on the process of telling stories. Irony and paradox cleave to this paragraph's core—clearly, Coetzee, by continuing to write and to publish, does not really believe that the genie should stay bottled. But, while Costello intends to edit this reflection from her written work, both the narrator and Coetzee consider it worthy of inclusion in the novel, thus endorsing its importance.

Costello's comment provokes consideration of the nature and effects of narration in other representations. One such site is academic writing that uses interviews and oral histories as source material. Such writing necessitates at least two levels of narration: first, re-presentation of the primary material and second, the author's analysis, synthesis, and commentary on it. As in other genres, this distils into two kinds of material: mimesis and diegesis. Here Elizabeth Tonkin's definitions of these terms are useful. She describes mimesis as “the representation of direct speech” and diegesis as “the description of nonverbal events.”

Common to the matrilineal peoples of eastern central Africa is their clan system, and the reciprocal joking or “funeral friendship,” relations that exist between clans with figuratively complementary names (Cunnison 1959:62-71; Richards 1937; Stefaniszyn 1950). This paper, however, focuses on the southeastern Shaba Pedicle, and the anomalous, one-sided joking between the Vulva and (allegedly pubic) Hair clans of the Lala and Lamba chiefs. I suggest that this joking, like the claim that these clans share a common mythical ancestor, is best explained in terms of nineteenth-century Lala and Lamba history, and of their competing claims to the Pedicle's easternmost end. This region of Bukanda lies between the Aushi to the north (in Bwaushi), the Lala and Swaka to the east and south (in Ilala and Maswaka), and the Lamba (of Ilamba) to the west. The main distinction among these closely-related and adjacent peoples, with their similar customs and languages, is in the histories and traditions of their chiefs.

The bizarre relationship between the chiefly Vulva and Hair clans is not widely known. I only heard of it during my fieldwork in Ilamba. The Lala, like the Lamba, straddle both the Congolese and Zambian sides of the Shaba Pedicle, and the literature on this region, in both French and English, is fragmentary and marked by an ahistorical and uncritical acceptance of oral traditions. The Lala are probably best known in relation to Mwana Lesa's Watchtower movement of the 1920s (Verbeek 1977,1983). Norman Long's Social Change and the Individual (Manchester, 1968) is the only modern ethnography on the Lala, yet this study of the enterprising Jehovah's Witnesses has little to say about dieir history or clans. Fortunately, Léon Verbeek's Filiation et usurpation (1987) has sorted through the oral and colonial histories, and has paved the way for comparative ethnohistories of the peoples on both sides of the Shaba Pedicle.

When he sighted the southern end of Lake Victoria on 3 August 1858, John Hanning Speke (1859b:397) realized that he had discovered the “source” of the White Nile, the most important tributary of the Nile proper, and so had “almost, if not entirely, solved a problem which it has been the first geographical desideratum of many thousand years to ascertain, and the ambition of the first monarchs of the world to unravel.” That Speke was an unknown explorer and that he had made his discovery on a solo “flying trip” during the East African Expedition of 1856-59, which, under the command of the renowned explorer Richard Francis Burton, had already also discovered Lake Tanganyika, made Speke's accomplishment all the more remarkable.

As contemporaries soon asserted, Speke's discovery culminated a historical series of excursions, real and imagined, into the interior of Africa and placed Speke at the pinnacle of a line of explorers and geographers that ran from Herodotus, Julius Caesar, and Ptolemy to, in more recent times, James Bruce (the Scotsman who “discovered” the source of the Blue Nile, the second most important tributary of the Nile, in 1770), the German missionaries Ludwig Krapf and Johannes Rebmann (who “discovered,” respectively, the snow-capped mountains of Kilimanjaro in 1848 and Kenya in 1849), and noted “armchair geographers” like W.D. Cooley, Charles Beke, and James M'Queen.

Late in 1818 Major William Gray (Royal African Corps) and Staff Surgeon (Captain) Duncan Dochard (RAC) launched a mission of discovery along the Gambia River, intending to determine the source of the Niger River and follow its course to the point that it flowed into an inland sea or emptied into an ocean. That expedition consisted of no fewer than 62 military personnel, 31 formally appointed civilians, and likely an equal number of unofficial Africans who had taken advantage from a large and well-armed entourage for security along the path. That expedition, which lasted for more than two years, was moderately successful, but it failed in its larger objectives. It returned to the coast eventually without even reaching Timbuktu. Its leaders produced a monograph, published in 1825, that confirmed many observations made earlier by Mungo Park.

The Gray/Dochard expedition, while admirable in its efforts and intent, was not the first, however, to make this particular attempt. Indeed, planning for this expeditionary cycle began in London during the summer of 1815, and was part of a larger government-sponsored plan to trace the course of the Niger, clarify the circumstances of the death of Mungo Park, and perhaps return his remains and personal property to the coast. The expedition's planners also hoped to resolve suggestions that the Niger might drain into an inland lake, might evaporate in the desert, or might join with the Nile, Congo, or another river before reaching Africa's coast. No less important was a concern in 1815 that the end of warfare on the European continent would bring a resurgence of French commercial and imperial interests.

In his excellent edition of the abortive Dutch expedition to capture Elmina Castle on the Gold Coast in 1625, Henk den Heijer has transcribed from records in the Algemeen Rijksarchief the journal by Admiral Jan Dirksz Lam and the resolutions passed by the ships' council. I was puzzled, however, by his decision not to include the anonymous 13-page pamphlet Waerachtich verhael van den gantsche reyse ghedaen by den eersamen Jan Dircksz Lam…, published in Amsterdam immediately after the fleet's return to the Netherlands in 1626. He includes a facsimile of the title page and mentions my own translation of the section dealing with Sierra Leone, but offers no explanation for not including it. Could it be that he considered the printed document somehow less “primary”—and hence less valuable—than the manuscript(s)?

Without wishing to compare both texts in detail, we may look at two examples. In the section on Sierra Leone, where the fleet spent three months, the two sources record a number of things in more or less the same way, albeit in quite different wording: both mention meeting a French yacht from Dieppe, negotiating successfully with the “king” for permission to take water, firewood, limes etc.; both report on a “strange beast” (probably a chimpanzee) which was caught, teased, and eventually thrown overboard. But the pamphlet (pp. 4-8) gives us a wealth of information on the king's appearance (orange stockings, grey hat with orange plumes, etc.), his wives, the military parade he offered in honor of the Dutch, an African interpreter named Herry who had spent a long time in England, and many other topics.