This article explores the ways in which French colonial authorities met the life and death challenge represented by the re-emergence of yellow fever epidemics in Saint-Louis-du-Sénégal at a time when physicians knew very little about the etiology, diagnosis, transmission and treatment of most infectious and parasitic diseases. The discussion focuses on changing strategies and policies designed to address yellow fever threats, the attitudes and priorities of the authorities, the limits of ‘colonial medicine’ and the responses of people affected by sanitary measures. The article argues that because of the ignorance of the etiology and epidemiology of yellow fever, policies were misdirected and did not achieve their primary goals. Even after the introduction of germ theory, the gap between medical thinking and practice persisted for another decade. The African urban working class and underclass were the first victims of this state of affairs. The article also examines the conflict between the interests of public health, commerce and privacy rights.

The unresolved debate on the mfecane in southern African history has been marked by general acceptance of the proposition that large-scale loss of life and disruption of settled society was experienced across the whole region. Attempts to quantify either the violence or mortality have been stymied by a lack of evidence. What apparently reliable evidence does exist describes small districts, most notably the Caledon Valley. In contrast to Julian Cobbing, who called the mfecane an alibi for colonial-sponsored violence, this article argues that much documentation of conflict in the Caledon region consisted of various ‘alibis’ for African land seizures and claims in the 1840s and 1850s.

Informed by the notion of racial affinity, the European managers of the Church Missionary Society Niger Mission had required all black West Indians in their employ to make Africa their home. However, because the African posting involved a substantial devaluation in the material benefits to be derived from missionary service, West Indians vigorously objected to the idea of making Africa their home. They demanded instead to be perceived and treated as foreigners on the same footing as Europeans. Although they were subsequently defined as part of the expatriate workforce of the Mission, they were still denied parity with Europeans in the allocation of scarce benefits on the basis of racial considerations. Unresolved tensions over the redistribution of scarce resources led to the premature collapse of the West Indian scheme. This essay is an analysis of how the pursuit of socioeconomic self-interest affected the construction and representation of race and identity among the West Indians in the Niger Mission.

This article contributes to the critique of a particular historiographical construction of the rural socio-intellectual world of the Afrikaner, which portrays that world as narrowly Calvinist and culturally circumscribed, with rigidly patrolled racial borders. This challenge is effected through an investigation into the world of the Bushveld Boer through the work of Eugène Marais (1871–1936) and Christiaan Frederick Louis Leipoldt (1880–1947). The article seeks to show that the practical workings of agrarian race relations allowed for a certain measure of cultural osmosis, facilitating Afrikaner interest in African and traditional healing practices. Afrikaner interest in the paranormal and psychic, with an emphasis on European trends, is also investigated, to demonstrate that the image of intellectual isolation has been exaggerated. This is a contribution to the ongoing project of historians interested in Afrikaner identity, who probe the image of a monolithic, Calvinist past and stress variety and often secular thinking.

The contribution made by accountancy historians to the historiography of imperial over-rule underlines the need for attention to financial records. This is especially true for the example of Northern Nigeria, where Lugard's successors initiated consolidated tax assessment based on wealth and administration of emirate finances through treasuries. The economic and political results of this decentralization were expansion of personnel and emoluments, confusion over funding for central and provincial departments and financial underpinning for regional autonomy.

This essay examines, through taxation, the relationship between British colonial administrators, Tswana Dikgosi (chiefs) and their subjects in the Bechuanaland Protectorate from 1899 to 1957. It argues that since Bechuanaland became a British territory through negotiations the Tswana rulers were able to protect their interests aggressively but with little risk of being deposed. Moreover, the Tswana succession system by primogeniture worked to their advantage whenever the British sought to replace them. Taxation was one arena where this was demonstrated. Although consultation between the Dikgosi, their subjects and the British was common, subordinate tribes sometimes fared badly under Tswana rule.

For a region purportedly a backwater of South African environmental history at the close of the twentieth century,1 the Cape has moved rapidly toward centre stage at the start of the new millennium. It now boasts a wealth of literature in international journals and last year saw the publication of the first book-length environmental histories of the region, with the promise of still more to come, not least from a strong crop of recently or nearly completed doctoral dissertations in academies round the north Atlantic rim.2 The Cape owes this distinction to being the oldest region of British missionary and imperial endeavour in the subcontinent, guaranteeing extensive archives in the northern hemisphere and explaining both the bias in the current scholarship towards the pre-1910 period and lack of a comparable scholarship on any other part of southern Africa.3 This anomalous florescence can also be read for likely future trends in a national historiography otherwise unanimously deemed moribund if not actually in decline for the past decade.4 What it reveals are two contending trajectories: the first a shift away from political economy to the history of ideas and the other a fidelity to the late twentieth-century radical social history tradition and its core theme of the social relations of production.