When Bamileke women in urban Cameroon give birth, older women often recall the ‘troubles’, the period between 1955 and 1974 when the UPC (Union des Populations du Cameroun) waged a battle of national independence, as a way of teaching their daughters about the hazards of reproduction and threats to Bamileke integrity as a people (Feldman-Savelsberg et al.). Slightly to the north-west, in the Nigerian city of Kano, Igbo talk constantly about their memories of the Biafran war, using them to forge a sense of Igbo ethnic distinctiveness that reinforces patterns of patron-client relations critical to the maintenance of transregional connections (Smith), while further to the south many Yoruba are reassessing the meaning of the old practice of pawning children (Renne). Meanwhile in Botswana, where the AIDS epidemic exacts a high death toll, members of an Apostolic church create distinctive practices of remembering what caused a person's death. In so doing, they counter the attenuation of care and support that often occurs when people interpret death as due to illnesses transmitted through blood and improper sexual relations (Klaits). By contrast in a Samburu community in Kenya, the cultural practice of ntotoi, a complex board game, reproduces a male-dominated history of kinship, while systematically erasing a female narrative of adulterous births and forced infanticide. And among rural Beng in Côte d'Ivoire, beliefs and practices that structure infant care serve as an indirect critique of the violence of French colonialism and of its aftermath that continues to interfere in Beng lives in the form of high rates of infant mortality (Gottlieb). As these examples taken from this volume indicate, the papers gathered together in this special issue examine the complex and often contradictory ways in which the reproduction of memories shapes the social and biological reproduction of people.

The ‘time of troubles’, a period of a radical nationalist movement (the UPC) and state reprisals sometimes called the Bamileke Rebellion, rocked Cameroon during the years surrounding its Independence in 1960. At the time, Bamileke women related their political and economic tribulations to numerous reproductive difficulties. They continue to do so today, linking perceived threats to their ethnic distinctiveness and survival to a sense of reproductive vulnerability. In this paper we explore the management of collective memories of the troubles as part of the social and cultural context of reproduction in a high-fertility society. Building upon extensive fieldwork among the Bamileke since the 1980s, we use data from participant observation, intensive interviews, and a two-round social network survey in six Bamileke women's associations in Yaoundé. Envisioned as a complement to a meaning-centred ethnographic approach, we are interested in several interrelated aspects of how urban Bamileke women manage their repertoire of memory. First, we explore how the ‘time of troubles’ and its memories are referenced in women's images of reproductive threat in three periods of Cameroonian history (the troubles themselves, the aftermath of a regime change, and the ‘crisis’ at the turn to the new millennium). Second, we seek to understand the social structuring of memory in network terms. Who are the carriers of memories of ‘the troubles’? And through which social ties are these memories transmitted and negotiated? Finally, drawing upon Mannheim's insights regarding generations and collective memory, we analyse cohort effects on the content of memories.

This article examines the ways in which the legacies and collective memories of Biafra, the secessionist state established at the time of Nigeria's civil war from 1967 to1970, shape contemporary Igbo practices and experiences of marriage, rural–urban ties and reproduction. The importance of appropriate and permanent marriage and the perceived necessity of dependable affinal relations for contemporary Igbos are analysed in relation to recollections of marriage during the war. The intense identification of migrant Igbos with place of origin and the importance of ‘home’ and ‘home people’ are situated in the context of the legacy of Biafra. The importance of kinship relationships for access to patron–client networks is linked to the Igbo perception of marginalization in the wake of Biafra. Igbo ideas about the significance of reproduction and the vital importance of ‘having people’ are reinforced through collective memories of Biafra. Igbo people's conceptions of Nigerian politics, their understandings of the social and economic importance of kinship and community in contemporary Nigeria, and even their reproductive decisions can be better explained by taking into account the legacies of Biafra.

Popular talk and silence about AIDS in Botswana have been shaped by survivors' efforts to manage the ways in which they remember relationships arising from procreation. The emotional force of death induces the immediately bereaved and wider communities of survivors to recollect who has shared blood with whom through sexual intercourse. Such acts of remembering may have decisive repercussions on relations of kinship, marriage and mutual support. For Batswana, ‘remembering’ is a form of acting as well as feeling, possessing a capacity to shape moral conduct for the long term. In the context of death, local debates about what and how to remember reflect contested endeavours to make relations based on blood persist beyond a person's passing. Focusing on a particular set of local perspectives on the morality of remembering, the article shows that members of an Apostolic church in Gaborone encourage one another to remember in a manner reflecting distinctive methods of maintaining relations of kinship and care.

The practice of pawning children, whose labour served as interest paid on loans, was common in precolonial and early colonial Ekiti Yoruba society. Known as , these children would work for the lender until their kinsmen had repaid the debts they had incurred. British colonial officials came to view this practice as a form of slavery and eventually outlawed it. This paper considers the life history of one older man who worked as an in a small Ekiti Yoruba town, focusing on his memories of child-pawning and how this practice has been interpreted by his children. The paper then examines the process whereby people's changed thinking about the moral bases of pawning parallels contemporary reassessments of the practice of child-fostering by young parents, some of whom claim that it is ‘like slavery’. How subsequent generations of townspeople remember slavery, child-pawning and, more recently, child-fostering, have implications for reproduction, since what it means to have the number of children who can be ‘raised well’ may contribute to social and economic pressures to limit family size. This study of memories of pawning and child-fostering, which support reduced fertility, underscores the ways that distinctive historical experiences have had different consequences for how reproduction is perceived and practised.

This paper examines the intertwined issues of memory and forgetting, focusing particularly on the question of precisely how, and by what social mechanisms, forgetting is accomplished. I discuss how collective and individual forms of forgetting are central to Bourdieu's notion of the habitus, commenting that the habitus is a living paradox, foreclosing (unimagined perhaps because unimaginable) possibilities and opening others only when moments of improvised reflection intervene. Moreover, the systems of the habitus enact a forgetting of the strange, the marginal, the in-between, and even the singular and the autobiographical. I explore these issues through the juxtaposition of formalized, collective Samburu (Kenyan pastoralists) memory forms and the illicit sexual practices that underworld them.

Memory is often considered a monopoly of adults and older children: the younger the child, the less significant the capacity for recollecting. In Côte d'Ivoire, the Beng posit a radically different theory of cognitive development: adults say that the younger the child, the keener the memory. Moreover, such recall is of a specific sort – infants allegedly hold strong memories of a previous existence before birth (wrugbe), where people reportedly live harmoniously and there is never material want. Nevertheless, remembering this space of plenitude can prove agonizing for babies, making their hold on life precarious, and a distressing array of culturally shaped diseases threaten their survival. Protecting against illness requires an elaborate bathing, jewellery and make-up routine twice daily that begins at birth and continues for the first year. All this somatic activity is meant to lure the child fully and definitively into this world, and to counteract the strong call of the afterlife that adults say is created by the infant's own memories. Why is wrugbe, as purportedly remembered by infants, envisaged as a place of plenitude? And why is it located in an historically identified past? In this essay – which is necessarily to some extent speculative given its subject of infant memory – I explore the allegorical implications of the Beng afterlife, suggesting that the attribution of heightened infant memory of an idyllic wrugbe serves as an indirect critique of French colonialism and its aftermath. I conclude by discussing the ways in which memory and forgetting are mutually constructed, with the Beng model offering substantial support for the contention that reproduction in general – and babies in particular – are crucial to this intertwined process.

African modernity surely comprises less pervasive outright violence than is suggested by popular representations ‐ the ‘New Barbarism’, as Paul Richards (1996) calls it. But by now it surely comprises more violent disjunctures than scholars like me, focusing on emergent and continuous change, have addressed. Uncertainty as a recurrent condition of the longue durée in productive and commercial life is rather different to theorize than violent ruptures in the very existence of collectivities or in people's capacity to imagine the future. It is one thing to link conditions to social organization, ecological knowledge and demographic regime (Iliffe 1995; Lesthaeghe 1989), for example to see the connection between the chronic historical vulnerability of the era of the slave trade and the political structures of the time (Ekeh 1990). It is really another to foreground each disruptive event in slow motion, one at a time, and ask how people created particular futures from particular pasts and presents. This shift of focus from chronic conditions to specific intrusions opens up in a new way the space between event history and the longue durée. It even puts the whole idea of the longue durée into temporary abeyance. Are long‐term processes better thought of as created by cumulative discrete and different memories and projections, perceptions and persuasions, rather than by responses straight out of the cultural/institutional repertoire? Or, at the very least, does the relationship of event to process need to be traced out explicitly?