Horses in themselves have little or no necessary military significance: in Part I of this article we saw how various quite unwarlike peoples possessed them. of fundamental significance, in transforming horses into war-horses, was good harness and equipment, and to carry this larger animals were preferable. Even against well-equipped cavalry, mainly infantry forces might prevail, if they were, like the Almoravids and the adherents of Usuman dan Fodio, sufficiently inspired. An important advantage of a horse, or better still several horses, was in providing a means of speedy escape. Horses were also valuable in slaving, a profitable occupation not only in the economic terms of human booty, some of whom might be sold for more horses, but also in demographic terms, a sort of compulsory immigration scheme. The use of horses in communications, as packanimals, in hunting, and for food, is discussed, though none was of outstanding significance in the Central Sudan. The employment of horses in agriculture seems to have been entirely lacking. Perhaps the most widespread use of horses was in festivals and celebrations; these displays of horsemanship, whether intentionally or not, helped train horses and riders. Good equipment was again vital, and sumptuary restrictions seem to have been directed more against overweening ostentation in this, than in the possession of horses. While horses were very widely esteemed, the most scrupulous among Muslims felt a certain hesitation about the propriety of riding a horse. Horses were found as a form of tribute, alms, bribes, and gifts of various kinds. In conclusion, the horse per se was more common, and less remarkable, in the Central Sudan than is sometimes suggested; it was the equipment of horses which made them effective weapons of war and statecraft.

The number of radiocarbon dates relating to Africa has increased rapidly during the last twelve years, as a glance through the back numbers of this Journal will show; and the increase reflects quite accurately the growth in our knowledge of later African prehistory. Almost 200 dates are given in this article which have not been quoted before, but even so the list is incomplete. It seems clear that a more and more selective approach will have to be adopted, and perhaps that is a desirable policy in any case. A paper of this kind does not reach a conslusion: it just comes to an end. However, there are some points which deserve particular attention. The thermoluminescence measureents from sites in Cameroun are of interest from a technical point of view, though they seem to be without historical calue. The Dynastic Egyptian dates are important historically as well as technically, and so are the dates from shell middens in Ivory Coast. Indication of contact across the western Sahara during the first millennium b.c. are reinforced by additional dates for copper mine in Mauritania. One final points is worth repeating. There is evidence, by now amounting almost to proof, that pottery was present in the central Saharan highlands at an earlier date than in the Nile valley or North Africa; and this should affect out ideas about the whole configuration of later African prehistory.

This paper reviews the results of the recent excavations at Igbo-Ukwu, from which large quantities of copper and bronze objects, glass and stone beads as well as highly decorated pottery were recovered. Although four out of five radiocarbon dates fall in the middle of the ninth century a.d., while the fifth one falls in the middle of the fifteenth century, other dating evidence—like the presence of European-type manila and beads, and the preservation of highly perishable materials—such as textiles, thread and wood fragments—seem to suggest a much later date. Consequently, until some concrete evidence can be produced to support the ninth century date, we cannot jettison the fifteenth century date, which seems to be corroborated by the evidence of the manillas and beads.

Copper and its alloys were for centuries staples of the import trade of West Africa, first across the Sahara, then by sea after the opening up of the Guinea Coast. However, little attention has been paid to the reasons behind this ancient and sustained demand. Although the uses of copper were many and changed from time to time and from place to place, the evidence of written, archaeological and artistic sources suggests that they fall largely into four broad and overlapping categories: a medium or standard of exchange, ornamentation, insignia of rank and power, and objects of cult and magic in a narrower sense. The preference for copper and brass over other metals for many purposes appears to have been determined by magic and the ritual properties ascribed to it, as well as by scarcity and practical and aesthetic considerations. Myth and legend may help to elucidate the uses of copper and brass by fitting them into a cosmological framework: thus along the Middle Niger copper is explicitly linked with the génie de l'eau and with myths of creation, while in the Niger Delta brass is frequently associated with the water spirits.

The Meru are a people who live on and adjoining the N.E. slope of Mt. Kenya. Their oral traditions, collected from the oldest living members, suggest that the group originated on Manda Island, part of an archipelago off the Kenya Coast. During the early 1700s their ancestors were conquered by a neighbouring people, probably Arabs from one of the nearby trading principalities. In consequence, the Meru chose to flee.

Existing evidence suggests that their subsequent period of migration lasted approximately thirty years. During the initial stage, they crossed the River Tana, somewhere near its mouth, then followed its southern bank inland. Later, the group left the river and moved northwest through a basically arid region, where water was obtainable only from seasonal rivers or swamps. Initially, the migrants moved northward, crossing these wet areas. Subsequently, when changing ecological conditions forced them westwards, they followed one of the seasonal river systems to the foothills of Mt. Kenya.

Available data provides little to link the Meru experience with other migratory trends. There is no evidence, for instance, to connect it either with the Bantu migrations from Shungwaya (S. Somalia) or that of Kikuyu-speaking peoples towards Mt. Kenya. Further research will be required to resolve the problem.

Few African scholars have had such an impact on both North and West Africa as al-Maghīlī (d. 1503/4 or 1505/6). This biographical sketch begins by assessing his part in the theological debate preceding the persecution of the Jewish community at Touat (conventionally dated to 1492), which was largely instigated by him, and relates it to his unsuccessful campaign against the Banū-Waṭṭāş whom he opposed because of their incapacity to check the growth of Christian power and Jewish influence in Morocco. After his failure against the Banū-Waṭṭāş, al-Maghīlī went to the western Sudan, where in Air, Takidda, Kano, Katsina and Gao he exerted a more peaceful and scholastic influence as a great renovator of Islam. The death of his son at Touat led him to return there C. 1503, and to resume his active campaigning against the Jews and their influence until his death a year or two later.

For over a century scholars have been attempting to locate the area and, if possible, the actual site of the capital of the Mali empire in its period of greatness. Since the 1920S attention has been focused on an area near the Sankararni river, a tributary entering the Niger from the south, upstream from Bamako. Over recent years a Polish-Guinean archaeological expedition has been digging a site there, but with inconclusive results so far.

A close reading of the few descriptions we have of the capital of Mali, and in particular of the route taken by Ibn Battūta, who visited the capital in 1352, suggests that the city lay on the left bank of the river Niger somewhere between Segu and Bamako. This is in fact a ‘logical] site for the capital of an empire whose tributaries lay mainly in the savannah and Sahel belts, and in whose armies cavalry played a significant role. For this reason, and a number of others, the recent hypothesis of Claude Meillassoux, suggesting a location for the capital south of the R. Falémé (and perhaps also of the R. Gambia), seems doubtful. The proper name for the capital is also discussed.

A principal role of the physical anthropologist has been the analysis of the human skeleton. Such analysis has traditionally utilized similarities in skeletal morphology and, in some instances, hypothetical racial affinities, to establish the biological relationships between populations. Established biological relationships are then assumed to reflect cultural affinities. As a result of this approach to the skeletal remains of Nubian populations, the culture history of Nubia has been explained in terms of type, hybridization, and atavism, rather than the more biologically and culturally meaningful units of variation, evolution and development. Our analysis of skeletal remains associated with Meroitic, X-Group and Christian cultural horizons in Sudanese Nubia has emphasized a bio-cultural approach to detectable patterns of mortality, skeletal growth and pathology. Rather than seeking to reconstruct cultural history from such biological evidence, this approach utilizes independently established evidence of culural adaptation as the principal environmental context within which these biological processes occur. From this conceptual framework, it becomes possible to gain new insight into the biological and cultural dynamics of variation, evolution and development within the Nubian corridor.

The purpose of this article is to attempt to clarify some of the outstanding controversies in the historical and ethnographic literature on southern Mozambique. It contends that by the eighteenth century, three distinct ethnic groups— the Tsonga, Chopi, and Tonga—lived in the area. It seeks to demonstrate how and why these groups differed from each other, and how these differences affected the ethnographic map. It argues that state formation among the Tsonga began at an early date, largely because of influences emanating from the adjacent western plateau regions of south-central Africa. Most of the neighbouring Tonga peoples, however, were shielded from these influences, and did not evolve political units larger than the village authority. The exception to this generalization occurred in the south of the Tonga-speaking region, where peoples were subject to an invasion by groups of Shona origin. The resultant differences between the two Tonga-speaking groups were to be of extreme importance when both subsequently would be invaded by peoples of Tsonga origin. In the south the arrival of Tsonga speakers resulted in the formation of the Chopi; in the north Tsonga speakers absorbed and assimilated the Tonga, who might have disappeared as a distinct cultural entity had other factors not intervened before the process had been completed.

The institutions of slavery, slave raiding and the slave trade were fundamental in the rise and expansion of the Keira Sultanate of Dār Fūr. The development of a long-distance trade in slaves may be due to immigrants from the Nile, who probably provided the impetus to state formation. This process may be remembered in the ‘Wise Stranger’ traditions current in the area. The slave raid or ghazwa, penetrating into the Baḥr al-Ghazāl and what is now the Central African Republic, marked the triumph of Sudanic state organization over the acephalous societies to the south.

The slaves, who were carefully classified, were not only exported to Egypt and North Africa, but also served the sultans and the title-holding elite as soldiers, labourers and bureaucrats. In the latter role, the slaves began to encroach on the power of traditional ruling groups within the state; the conflict between the slave bureaucrats and the traditional ruling elite lasted until the end of the first Keira Sultanate in 1874.

This study seeks to redefine the ritual significance of the madzi-manga through the use of Barue oral traditions. It goes beyond a redefinition of the ritual to study the entire process of investiture, the role of the senior mhondoro in Barue society, and the exact nature of the relationship between the Barue and the Portuguese. It concludes that the madzi-manga represented neither a Catholic baptism nor a syncretic religious practice, as has been previously argued. Rather, it was the traditional medium through which the sacred qualities of kingship were transrnitted.

According to Yoruba traditions, the royal dynasties of all the principal kingdoms in the area were descended from the children of Oduduwa, the founder and first king of Lle Ife. This tradition implied, or could be represented as implying, that the various kingdoms formed a political unit, a ‘family’ of related dynasties. The article considers the political implicatins of the Yoruba traditions of origin, and seeks to relate the existence of certain variants of the tradition to the use of it for purposes of political propaganda. In particular, it is suggested that the tradition was manipulated and modified in an attempt to support the claims to paramountcy of the king of Oyo, when this kingdom became the most powerful state in the Yoruba area during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The case illustrates, it is argued, the intellectual problems involved in altering received traditions, and suggests the inadequacy of those views which see the process of the modification of traditions as a simple and unobtrusive response to changing political needs.

Recent research on the territorial cults of Central Africa allows us to arrive at some tentative general patterns. The historical development of territorial cults has been worked out most fully for Malawi. Here it seems to be agreed that there was an essentially similar early cultic pattern among the proto-Chewa, the proto-Mang'anja and the proto-Tumbuka. Cults dedicated to the High God and tended by spirit wives were widely diffused. Much of the religious history of Malawi can be seen in terms of the differing relationships of these cults with incoming political authorities, producing a richly various situation.

It is not clear whether this sort of analysis can be applied to the wealth of material available on Shona territorial cults, even though the initial comparisons are suggestive. It is plain, however, that the most interesting recent work on these territorial cults suggests other dynamics of change. Shona cult history is not merely a matter of inter-relationships between cults and kings, but also very much a matter of the working out of built-in conflicts within cultic systems themselves. The much more dynamic view which it is now necessary to hold of the operations of Shona religion makes a great deal more sense of nineteenth and twentieth-century data than the previous centralized and hierarchical analysis.

Little attention has been devoted to the uncritical and almost reflexive incorporation of available printed information into allegedly oral historical materials. This inclination is particularly strong when oral traditions attempt to cope with material more than a century old. The present paper discusses the mechanisms by which such ‘feedback’ materials were incorporated into the traditional accounts of four coastal Fante stools, and the ambiences which encouraged such processes.

Stool, succession, and land disputes were concomitants of Fante political activity, and the imposition by the British of an indirect form of rule allowed Fante traditional historians ample scope for manipulating and creating traditions to fit every contingency. The high level of literacy among the Fante and the relatively large number of early printed works which touched upon the history of the area only served to encourage these propensities. For various reasons many of these barnacles failed to become entrenched, but others were accepted by the British at the time that they were advanced and have since become the accepted and orthodox versions of traditional accounts.

While in degree the responses of the Fante were not representative of other African societies, in kind their responses were wholly typical of the development of oral historical materials almost everywhere. The historian must consider a given tradition as having been dynamic over time, and must concern himself not only with its content, but with the circumstances of its development as well.

The Kat River Settlement was established in the eastern Cape Colony in 1829 as a measure of frontier defence. In 1851 many of its coloured inhabitants rebelled against the colonial government. The rebels' motives were beyond the comprehension of contemporary officials, and no thorough investigation of them has since been made. All accounts agree that the Settlement initially thrived, despite the harmful effects of a frontier war in 1835. In later years, however, the government used the Settlement as a dumping ground for coloureds and tribesmen dispossessed elsewhere. The coloureds' system of economic clientship was simultaneously challenged by the extension of commercial farming techniques in the eastern Cape. Coloured people failed to obtain credit to enable them to adapt. Overcrowding and insecurity bred discontent, particularly among certain coloureds of Gonaqua (Khoi) origin, who remembered suffering earlier injustices at the hands of the whites. Unsympathetic colonial officials and the declining military importance of the Settlement compounded these basic grievances. In 1851, under cover of another frontier war, numbers of Settlement coloureds rebelled. The rebellion failed and the government appropriated the land belonging to the rebels, thus dispersing the last concentration of Gonaqua Khoi.

The movement from ship to shore and to merchant stores occurred prior to 1790 in the Rio Pongo, where an indigenous trading system between the coastal Baga and the Fula of the interior had long existed. Between 1790 and 1808 contact with the interior improved. A vibrant European and Eurafrican trading community developed at the mouth of the river and coalesced to oppose an attempt by the Sierra Leone Company to capture control of the river's commerce. More significant than the threat of monopolistic control was the company's opposition to slave trading. This study of trade, coasters, and conflict in the Rio Pongo outlines the importance of the landlord-stranger relationship, the interaction of slaving and legitimate commerce, the influence of long-distance African traders upon littoral trade and politics, and the manner in which traders and chiefs cooperated to forestall company success.

International relations in pre-colonial West Africa were conducted in accordance with customary law, which exhibited broadly similar characteristics over a wide area. Trade and politics, linking the coast, the forest and the savannah, led to the development of diplomacy in the more centrally-organized states. Inter-African embassies enjoyed a degree of prestige and immunity comparable to that which protected European diplomacy, and a widely accepted protocol regulated negotiations. Treaties were concluded solemnly and sanctions were provided for their observance. Embassies were also sent to Europe and adjacent European possessions and settlements, North Africa and the Near East, and were generally received on a proper footing.

The indigenous system of international relations was affected by two major external influences. The first, that of Islam, notably contributed literacy, and led in the Islamized states and in Ashanti to the evolution of chanceries. It also introduced the distinction in international law and practice between Muslims and non-Muslims. The Muslim states exchanged embassies, Bornu, for example, maintaining intermittent relations with North Africa and Istanbul for three centuries. The second influence, that of Western Europe, spread the knowledge of European languages which, like Arabic, facilitated communication between West Africans themselves as well as with outsiders. The development of the resident embassy in sixteenth-century Europe was apparently not reflected in West Africa until the nineteenth century, but approximations to the system of continuous diplomacy did arise, probably independently. Diplomatic relations with both Muslims and Europeans tended to increase the influence in West African politics and society of the literate élite.

The indigenous system of international relations in West Africa was flexible and effective, and it seems that it was not so much diplomatic as military incapacity which allowed the Muslims to overthrow governments there and the Europeans to partition the region.

It has become accepted by historians and social scientists alike that African workers in Rhodesia were slow to demonstrate resistance in the industrial setting of the economy. This tardiness is attributed to the dominance of the migrant labour system or the achievements of the settler administration. This view is challenged by a detailed study of African responses in the mining industry. Here geological factors led to profitability constraints which led to extensive exploitation of African labour. This in turn manifested itself in the appalling conditions in the mine compounds. In these circumstances, the choice of employer was of vital importance to Africans, and they developed a rapid and efficient system of market intelligence about employment prospects throughout southern Africa. African worker consciousness was evident in patterns of avoidance of, selective participation in, and desertion from, mines. In addition, worker consciousness and resistance manifested themselves in day-to-day work situations, and in strike action. All of these activities suggest a well-developed worker consciousness which pre-dates the more familiar organizations of the 1920s such as the Dance Societies, the Watch Tower Society and the I.C.U. These patterns further suggest that worker strategy in Rhodesia can best be understood within the context of the functioning of a regional economic system embracing all of southern Africa.

The ingredients for economic development were certainly present in the Yoruba country in the nineteenth century: land was available; labour was cheap and some of the towns like Ibadan were well placed for trade. But for this economic growth, militarism was a double-edged weapon. The needs of a military state, such as Ibadan, certainly gave it tremendous impetus; trade, agriculture, arts and crafts developed in response to the demands of the military, who constituted the new leadership. But in the final analysis all these economic activities needed peace for their full development; Ibadan, by the very nature of its birth and its commitment to military ideals and military solutions to the problems confronting the Yoruba country, could not, however, guarantee this peace. On the contrary, in its struggle for power and leadership within that country, it took actions which jeopardized the chances of peaceful economic development in Ibadan and other parts of the Yoruba country. Moreover the intermittent warfare, which characterized this country generally in the nineteenth century, injected an element of discontinuity into its economic growth, and placed some constraint on lasting economic development. The fact that agriculture, trade and industry still flourished in the Yoruba country, particularly in Ibadan, can therefore only be regarded as a pointer to the country's economic potentialities, rather than as an evidence of normal economic growth. But with the restoration of peace at the end of the century, and the introduction of British rule, Ibadan and the rest of the Yoruba country were poised for rapid economic development.

Gumbu du Sahel (Mali) est un gros village (environ 5.000 habitants) d'agriculteurs sédentaires, situé à la limite Nord de la zone de culture sèche du mil, au contact des Maures pasteurs nomades du Sahara. Il occupe le centre d'une cuvette sablonneuse relativement fertile qui permet, sur des terres fumées par les troupeaux des éleveurs, une production excédentaire de mil et de coton destinée traditionnellement à l'échange avec les nomades.