Much speculation has been devoted to the possible connexions between the different clusters of kingdoms in Africa. Scholars have been puzzled for over half a century by the similarities in organization and ideology between different African states. They have tried to explain them either as the product of the diffusion of a common pattern, the ‘Sudanic State’ or the ‘Sacral Kingship’, or by maintaining that similar functional needs led to parallel independent inventions in many different areas. In Central Africa the specific positions taken have been that the Katanga states diffused their model of government to the Lower Congo cluster, or, as I myself have claimed, that these were independent. Dittmer links the Lower Congo with Katanga, and derives the latter cluster itself from the interlacustrine and Ethiopian clusters

The anthropological and historical literature dealing with Africa abounds with references to a people called the ‘Hamites’. ‘Hamite’, as used in these writings, designates an African population supposedly distinguished by its race— Caucasian—and its language family, from the Negro inhabitants of the rest of Africa below the Sahara.

There exists a widely held belief in the Western world that everything of value ever found in Africa was brought there by these Hamites, a people inherently superior to the native populations. This belief, often referred to as the Hamitic hypothesis, is a convenient explanation for all the signs of civilization found in Black Africa. It was these Caucasoids, we read, who taught the Negro how to manufacture iron and who were so politically sophisticated that they organized the conquered territories into highly complex states with themselves as the ruling elites. This hypothesis was preceded by another elaborate Hamitic theory. The earlier theory, which gained currency in the sixteenth century, was that the Hamites were black savages, ‘natural slaves’—and Negroes. This identification of the Hamite with the Negro, a view which persisted throughout the eighteenth century, served as a rationale for slavery, using Biblical interpretations in support of its tenets. The image of the Negro deteriorated in direct proportion to the growth of the importance of slavery, and it became imperative for the white man to exclude the Negro from the brotherhood of races. Napoleon's expedition to Egypt in 1798 became the historical catalyst that provided the Western World with the impetus to turn the Hamite into a Caucasian.

The generic term Takarīr (also Takarna) is a popular Middle Eastern concept applied to all West African Muslims. The progenitor of the name, to which the attribution Takarīr is made, is the ancient state of Takrūr, which existed briefly on the Senegal basin from ca. a.d. 1OOO and which was the first West African chieftaincy to accept Islam. This paper suggests that probably the earliest West African Muslims to be seen in the Middle East in recognizable numbers may have come from that state. Because the milieu of the Hijaz and the diversity of races frequenting the annual pilgrimage ceremonies encouraged generalizations, the name Takarīr was conveniently applied to West Africans. The ambiguity of the term may thus be seen to have progressively increased with the expansion of Islam in West Africa, while the name itself became sufficiently entrenched in popular usage for it to survive the fame of great West African empires like Mali and Songhay. The term ‘Bilad al-Takrūr’ is essentially the extension of the Middle Eastern concept of Takrūr and has therefore received various territorial definitions.

Despite its basic importance for an understanding of African History, the Atlantic slave-trade still remains one of the most unexplored aspects of modern African development. Except for a few pioneer works, there have been no systematic studies of numbers, origins, mortality, routes and volume of traffic. The present study is based on archival material in Brazil and is an exploration in depth of one major route, the West African to Rio de Janeiro shipping route in the period 1795–1811. During this time some 170,000 African slaves were shipped from Africa, suffering a mortality rate of 95 per thousand.

Recent excavations and radiocarbon dates provide evidence that the rich Ingombe Ilede burials date from the fourteenth/fifteenth centuries a.d., not from the ninth/tenth centuries as was previously supposed. There is thus little evidence for intensive trade between the Middle Zambezi and the Moçambique coast before ca. a.d. 1400.

This article, based on a critical examination of the Pate Chronicle in the light of archaeological and external historical evidence bearing on the subject, presents a case for a revision of the early history of the town. It maintains that Pate was the latest of the settlements to rise to importance in the region, being of little importance before the sixteenth century, and preceded by other city-statés, the earliest of which was Manda. The origins of Pate do not go back before the fourteenth century; the first dynasty there, the Batawi, was ruling up to around the seventeenth century, after which the Nabahani took over the sultanate.

Three raw materials were essential to Iron Age peoples in South Central Africa: iron, copper and salt. This paper discusses some of the archaeological evidence for the development of regional and long-distance trade in these commodities during the earlier Iron Age. A distinction is drawn between regional trade in items for which there is local demand, and longer distance commerce in raw materials, which may have been conducted with the aid of some standardized units of monetary significance.

The big question for future research is that of assessing the degree to which the more sophisticated centres of metallurgy and trade affected those societies, living outside the immediate area, whose technologies and economies were less highly developed.

This paper examines three views which have been widely held about slavery and the slave trade in West Africa, and which have tended to mould interpretations of its history, especially for the period from the fifteenth to the nineteenth century. These are:

(1) That the institution of slavery was endemic in, and a natural feature of, indigenous West African society, so that when foreigners arrived in West Africa with a demand for slaves, West Africans were able immediately to organize an export trade in slaves on an ever-increasing scale.

(2) A contrary view, that it was the external demands for labour which led to a great growth of the institution of slavery in West Africa, and so corrupted its indigenous society.

(3) A view which may or may not be combined with (2), namely that the external demand for slaves became so considerable that there was a disastrous effect on its population.

Relevant evidence is touched upon from about the eleventh century onwards, and a fourth interpretation is developed which seems better to fit the economic and social realities which can be ascertained.

In essence this is that economic and commercial slavery and slave-trading were not natural features of West African society, but that they developed, along with the growth of states, as a form of labour mobilization to meet the needs of a growing system of foreign trade in which, initially, the demand for slaves as trade goods was relatively insignificant. What might be termed a ‘slave economy’ was generally established in the Western and Central Sudan by about the fourteenth century at least, and had certainly spread to the coasts around the Senegal and in Lower Guinea by the fifteenth century.

The European demand for slaves for the Americas, which reached its peak from about 1650 to about 1850, accentuated and expanded the internal growth of both slavery and the slave trade. But this was essentially only one aspect of a very wide process of economic and political development and social change, in West Africa. The data recently assembled and analysed by Curtin for the volume and distribution of the export slave trade do not suggest that the loss of population and other effects of the export of labour to the Americas need have had universally damaging effects on the development of West Africa. Rather, it is suggested, West African rulers and merchants reacted to the demand with economic reasoning, and used it to strengthen streams of economic and political development that were already current before the Atlantic slave trade began.

The expansion of the Sokoto Caliphate into the lands of the diverse non-Muslim peoples of the Middle Belt area is a familiar theme in the nineteenth-century history of the Central Sudan. As the Middle Belt is known to have an overall lower population density than adjoining areas to the north and south, the explanation has been proposed that this was due to slave raiding by Muslim states. A study of the history of this area does not support this overall view, even though it might be accepted with reference to limited areas. areas. It can be shown, moreover that in certain localities populations were actually enhanced as a result of the consolidation of Muslim power, while others, currently of extremely low density, were completely unaffected. If the factors affecting population in this area are to be understood, reference to over-simplified causes such as slave raiding must be shunned. Geographical and biological factors influencing population growth may be more fertile areas of enquiry.

The Chadian Muslim states of Kanem, and later Bornu, have been linked throughout their history to North Africa by an important trade-route across the Sahara, from the Libyan coast to Lake Chad. The popularity and permanence of this route throughout the centuries have been detennined by the economic needs and specialities of the N. African littoral, as well as of the Western Sudan. This route, first controlled by Ibāḍī Muslim Berbers from Zawīla from the eighth to the twelfth centuries, then briefly by the Ayyubids of Cairo, came under the control of Kanem, which was expanding northwards in the thirteenth century. The Fazzān (and Zawīla) then came under the control of Kanem, which seems to have maintained friendly relations with the Hafsid dynasty of Tunis. After the thirteenth century, independent states arose in the Fazzān. Then, after the establishment of an Ottoman Turkish province in Libya, the Turks and the Mais of Bornu were soon in contact, probably from about 1555, and certainly in the time of Mai Idrīs of Bomu (on the throne in 1557–8), as some newly found correspondence from the Ottoman Archives in Istanbul makes clear. There was certainly a friendly association between Bornu and the Turks at this period, if not an actual alliance, as Mai Idrīs hoped to obtain arms and perhaps Turkish troops as well to use against his enemies of the W. Sudan, principally the Hausa state of Kebbi. However, Idris's hopes were deceived, and the Ottoman Sultan Murād III did not provide what was wanted, causing Idrīs to turn to the Sa'dī Sharifian ruler of Fās, Aḥmad al-Manṣūr al-Dhahābī, with a similar request.

The purpose of this essay has been twofold: first, to describe the wandering capitals of sixteenth and seventeenth-century Ethiopia, and secondly, to offer an explanation for the pattern of movement.

Ethiopian wandering capitals possessed many of the characteristics that are often used to distinguish cities from other forms of settlement. Roving capitals were large and densely populated enough to qualify for city status, they performed an essentially urban role of administration, the capitals were heterogeneous socially, and representatives of the Ethiopian literati were present. The population of these capitals were for the most part only seasonally urban and seasonally rural. And yet, these capitals were not permanent.

The explanation offered may be succinctly summarized as follows. Initially, military motives prompted the Ethiopian éite to change their capitals from fixed to mobile settlements. These guerilla cities were adapted to in several ways. First, capitals moved to food supplies rather than supplies being moved to the capital. Secondly, capitals impoverished their current hinterlands. And thirdly, political integration of Ethiopia came eventually to depend on a mobile centre of polity. These three factors not only represent adaptations to nomadic capitals, but they in turn made a stabilization of capitals difficult. In other words, the very adaptations to the wandering capitals themselves had a feedback effect on the pattern of movement, and therefore contributed to a continuation of capital movement.

A wide range of contact with other peoples has tended to produce variety and divergence in Igala traditions concerning the origin of the kingship. To select one or other of these traditions for special emphasis, as was done in the past, is to misrepresent the nature of the corpus as a whole. Analysis of this complex body of tradition can be simplified by concentrating on three problems, the problem of divergence, the question of chronology, and the need to distinguish between the historical and the political functions of oral tradition. Divergence in Igala tradition reflects divisions within the clan system on which Igala political structure is based. But these differences of emphasis can be resolved if the time span covered by the legends is properly understood. These traditions open with a mythical or quasi-mythical period in which events are placed without reference to their sequence in time. Mythical thought is concerned with structure in the abstract, with form rather than with process. Thus it is argued that the early period of Igala history, where most of the divergence occurs, demonstrates the interaction of different principles of political growth and change, the time span being defined conventionally by associating each major development with one reign or generation. Dating from archaeological and ethnographic material suggests that a much longer time span is involved in Igala history than might be indicated by a superficial analysis of the oral traditions, based on genealogical counting.

The reasons for Dingane's attack on Lourenço Marques in 1833 may have been (a) the policy of expansion pursued by governor Ribeiro, which Machakane of Matola and perhaps Dingane himself may have tried to check, (b) lack of caution in treating Dingane, (c) perhaps also inability to meet Dingane's demands (this may have been due to economic difficulties after the partial breakdown of the slave trade in 1830), (d) the fact that Ribeiro probably maintained relations with Soshangana (which has been stressed by Lobato). Dingane seems to have regarded the governor as one of his subjects, although the Portuguese did not regard themselves as his subjects but as depending on MoÇambique.

In the period 1830–1838, the Zulu seem to have been more important for Lourenço Marques than any other Nguni group, as they were dominating many of the territories near it. In that period the Zulu empire included people of a language different from that of the majority, who do not seem to have been integrated into the Zulu nation through the national regimental system in the same way as Nguni groups subjected by the Zulu. In 1831–4 Zulu armies fighting near Lourenço Marques consisted of a few hundred Zulu warriors assisted by groups of auxiliaries (probably totalling 2,000–3,000 men) furnished by the local chiefs.

Dingane was ruler of Zululand and Natal for over a decade (1828–40) and incurred, by the murder of Piet Retief and his followers, the seemingly undying hatred of historians. Almost every commentator on this period of Zulu history has portrayed him as a man with hardly a redeeming quality: blood-thirsty, capricious, treacherous, self-indulgent, an absolute despot, an ingrate and an inveterate liar. What is remarkable about this consensus among historians is that Dingane, as will be shown subsequently, lacked all these unflattering attributes. Many reasons could be given for this grievous error on the part of scholars. Among these must be included their failure to resolve the glaring contradictions between the promises and actions of the Zulu king, and an inability to understand the dynamics of an alien society.

Through their deep involvement in the long-distance trade of eastern central Africa, the Yao were increasingly exposed to the impact of Swahili traders and their culture. During the nineteenth century the increased volume of trade, and the ever growing importance of slaves in that trade, combined to produce a marked growth in the scale of Yao political units. This paper begins by outlining the growth of Yao trade before the nineteenth century. It then considers the nature of Yao political organization and the way in which the slave trade, in particular, facilitated the rise of large territorial chiefdoms. The last section deals with related social and cultural changes, including the growth of towns and the introduction of Islam.

Trade with European merchants along the Guinea Coast was very important in the history of the Yoruba in the nineteenth century. But until 1870 almost all this trade was done by the western Yoruba peoples. All the important ports (Porto Novo, Badagry and Lagos) were located on the western sea-board of the Yoruba country, and from these ports trade routes radiated inland. Moreover, along the routes, Christian missionary evangelism spread. The eastern Yoruba country remained out of the stream of these formative developments.

About 1870, however, owing to obstructions to trade on the western routes, the government of the British colony of Lagos tried to open a new route in the east as a roundabout means of tapping the main centres of trade in the west. But this route, the Ondo Road, soon became a great formative force in the lives of the peoples of the eastern Yoruba provinces. Compared with the main western routes, the trade on the new route was quite small. Nevertheless, its demands resulted in vastly increased productivity both in the agriculture and local manufactures of the people. Also it was along this route that missionary work—as evidenced by the building of mission stations, churches and schools—at last began to affect the eastern Yoruba areas.

Asaba is an Ibo town, which, because of its position on the Niger, came into relatively early contact with Europeans. This means that we have materials for its history in European records for more than a hundred years. This article is based on these records, and on present-day oral traditions. It begins with an account of Asaba's traditional social and political structure, and its former role in the economic life of the lower Niger.

Asaba traditions relate in detail how the town was founded by a man from Nteje, east of the Niger, called Nnebisi. There is less information about its subsequent history, though it seems that it went through a significant changefrom the rule of a single Eze to a system of personal titles, like that found in eastern Iboland. Some attempts have been made to make a king list for Asaba, but it does not seem possible to establish either this or any other useful chronological framework other than that provided by family genealogies. These suggest that Nnebisi lived in the seventeenth century. The main theme in Asaba's external history is her changing relationship with her powerful neighbour, Benin.

The choice of Onitsha, rather than Asaba, as a missionary and trading centre, meant that Asaba went through a period of relative eclipse. The first C.M.S. missionaries came to the town in 1875, but they had little impact on Asaba life. In the middle eighties, Asaba became the administrative capital of the newlyestablished Royal Niger Company. The impact of the Company on Asaba, though great, was short-lived. But one result of its choice of Asaba as a capital was the renewal of missionary endeavour, both Catholic and Protestant, in the town. This in its turn was to have a very great impact on Asaba's way of life.

The Anteimoro, last of the overseas migrants to settle in Madagascar, conclude the essential formation of the Malagasy people. From genealogies and early European accounts, it is estimated that two initial contingents of the Anteimoro reached Madagascar around 1490 and settled at Matitana by 1512. The last and final one arrived by 1540. As a group, the Anteimoro were able to impose their own political and social structure on the tompontany of Matitana. Through intermarriage, the Anteimoro adopted the Malagasy language while moving toward endogamy to preserve their distinct identity as well as aristocratic position.

Alone in Madagascar, the Anteimoro developed a scribal tradition, manifested in countless Arabico-Malagasy Sora-bé manuscripts. One appears to antedate the 1600s, most were composed in the nineteenth century, but some are undoubtedly copies of earlier Sora-bé. An old Anteimoro vocabulary reveals a much higher percentage of Arabic words than are found today. While Islam is now extremely diluted among them, due to the complete isolation of the Anteimoro, there is no doubt that they were once zealotic Muslims.

The problem of their origin, explored by Grandidier, Ferrand and Julien, has been suspended between Arabia and the Swahili coast. Neither can be accepted. At least one genealogy shows a ‘pause’ of ten generations between the great ancestor of the Anteimoro in Madagascar and the last descendant of a line that had fled from Arabia. While there is no plausible alternative for this ‘pause’ other than Africa, the Swahili coast must be discounted in the absence of any architecture among the Anteimoro and of Swahili loan-words, phonemes and calligraphy. Attempts to see the etymon of Anteimoro (phon. temūrū) as Malagasy or as Swahili ‘Mahūrū’ (slaves) are also unsatisfactory. Imperfect as it may be, partial evidence points to Temur, a people of eastern or southern Ethiopia who vanished locally in the fifteenth century. It is also suggested that there were connexions with the Qadiriyya tarika, which Anteirnoro religious specialists sought to extend into Madagascar without success.

When the remnants of the Bapedi returned to their country after they had been driven from it by the Matabele, Sekwati strengthened the tribe so that attacks by the Boers, Zulus and Swazis were repulsed.

When Sekhukhune succeeded to the chieftainship in 1861, his attempts at expanding Bapedi influence caused the South African Republic to declare war in 1876.

After the annexation of the Transvaal by Great Britain, Sekhukhune resumed his empire building, and in March 1878 the Bapedi went on the warpath. Groups of hastily raised volunteers managed to contain the Bapedi in their strongholds, but after the failure of a British expedition in October 1878, offensive operations were abandoned until the end of the fever season in April–May 1879. Patrols were then once again active, when Sir Garnet Wolseley ordered a halt to all offensives; Sir Garnet himself arrived in the Transvaal in September 1879, and personally directed operations against Sekhukhune. A massive assault was made on the Bapedi stronghold on 28 November 1879; the Bapedi suffered a crushing defeat and the chief himself was captured.