This article concentrates on the events of 1958 in Niger. It tries to show that Djibo Bakary's power-base was a very weak one. This could be the reason why Djibo decided to opt for ‘No’ at the Referendum, namely that he needed command of the whole state machinery in order to crush his enemies, especially the chiefs. The French were bent on thwarting Djibo for geo-political reasons (e.g. the nearness of Algeria), but did so in a rather lighthanded way. In fact, Djibo brought about his own downfall through a number of miscalculations and blunders.

This article describes the rapid growth and decline of the production of dura (Sorghum vulgare) in the frontier region adjoining the border of northwest Ethiopia, Sudan's Kassala Province, and the southwest frontier of Italian Eritrea between c. 1900 and the 1920s. This short-lived agricultural revolution resulted less from the slow, incremental adaptation of local agriculture than from a conjuncture of events, including the presence of a fertile but depopulated vertisol plain (the Mazega), the rise of a major food market in Eritrea, the availability of archaic forms of labour, the presence of entrepreneurial managers, and the immature state of colonial/imperial interests in the region. The precipitous decline of food production in the region in the early 1920s resulted from the dissolution of this historical conjuncture. The article concludes by suggesting that African history in general and agricultural history in particular has tended to be ‘Whiggish’, emphasizing progressive change at the expense of conjunctural and often short-lived episodes.

This study of horses, mainly in the central Sudan, presents impressions rather than a complete survey of the evidence. At the time when written records for the Sudan region begin,c. A.D. 1000, horses were evidently well established there. Their coming preceded the arrival of Islam. The first introduction of horses is sometimes attributed to nomads, such as the Zaghawa round Lake Chad, who, so the argument runs, used them to found larger and more militant states. Some evidence, however, suggests, although tentatively, that such nomadic immigrants were chiefly camel people, who enlarged their use of horses because these were more suitable than camels in the Sudan region, and because the horse was already there. Careful reading of the Bayajidda legend raises doubts as to whether it has anything to do with the introduction of the horse into Hausa, or into the Sudan as a whole. All this lends support to the idea that horses became established in the Sudan at a far earlier date, perhaps through trans-Saharan links recorded in the horse-chariots of rock art. Occasional references to wild horses suggest that survival and reproduction were not dependent on imported stock. Numbers of peoples, from Kaniaga in the west to Dar Tama in the east, possessed their own horses; many of these peoples were isolated from any network of trans-Saharan communication, and many were uninterested in large-scale state formation. These horses, apparently always very small, may perhaps be nicknamed the southern Sudanic breed. Larger horses, presumably directly or indirectly descended from later imports, are particularly associated with certain areas, especially Bornu/Mandara. The trans-Saharan trade in horses, admittedly of considerable importance, may have been given undue prominence by scholars who have overlooked the possibility of east-west trade–of horses arriving in Hausa, for example, from no further afield than Bornu. Acute illness and mortality among imported stock must also have influenced trade, and reduced the contribution of such animals to local herds and stables.

In the eleventh to thirteenth century, Southern African Nguni-speakers made a counterintuitive choice to begin investing in large herds of cattle. Despite a long-standing knowledge of cattle, the earliest Nguni-speakers did not take to cattle-keeping as a way of life. Rather, the transition came as the result of changing social circumstances as households sought to manage the lifecycles of young men and reliably exploit their labor through gendered and generational expectations of decorum. Nguni-speakers grounded new concepts about cattle in older practices and norms regarding the social reproduction of young men. Agropastoralists situated cattle-keeping among the obligations young men faced after passing through initiation, giving cattle local salience. The transformation unfolded in gendered and generational household choices, but was shaped by the broad context of an increasingly interconnected Southern Africa.

Until the late 1970s the impact of the two world wars on Africa was a comparatively neglected area of its colonial history. In 1977 the School of Oriental and African Studies at the University of London drew attention to this neglect by organizing a symposium on the first of these two wars. A selection of the papers presented at that symposium was published in a special issue of this Journal in 1978. This proved to be a landmark in the study of the history of the First World War in Africa, which has since received much scholarly attention. By contrast, a survey written a few years ago of the Second World War in Africa could make relatively little use of original research. In 1983, however, the Académie Royale des Sciences d'Outre-Mer, Brussels, published a large collection of papers on the Belgian Congo in the Second World War, and in 1984 Richard Rathbone and David Killingray organized a further conference at S.O.A.S. on the impact on Africa of the Second World War. This elicited over thirty papers by scholars from Africa, Europe and North America; they not only provided extensive geographical coverage but also represented a wide variety of interests: political, economic, social and cultural. The conference organizers have since edited a selection of these papers in book form: the topics range from the impact of the war on labour in Sierra Leone to relations between the colonial government and Christian missions in southern Cameroons.

This paper examines the contention that between 1896 and 1898 the main object of Menelik's foreign policy was expansion westwards in collaboration with the French. It concludes, from both European and African evidence, that on the contrary Menelik subordinated his territorial aspirations in the Nile Valley to the promotion of good relations with the Khalifa; and that he frustrated rather than assisted the French missions to the Nile. The overriding anxiety of the Negus was that ‘Abdallāhi should not be distracted from his struggle with Kitchener by fears for security of his eastern frontier. Menelik saw in a Mahdist victory the best insurance against a renewal of European aggression in Ethiopia, fearing as he did that the subjugation of Ethiopia was the ultimate objective of British action in north-east Africa.

Moroccan nationalism began as a religious or cultural reformist movement based on Salafiya, a form of religious fundamentalism which arose in late nineteenthcentury Egypt as an effort to restore the original purity of Islam and the independence of the Muslim peoples. The Moroccan movement was first expressed in the 1920's by the foundation of the ‘free schools’ and the formation of secret discussion societies, neither of which represented more than a small, concerned elite and whose organization was rudimentary in the extreme. By 1934, it was transformed by events and hard experience into an essentially political and social reform movement which, while not yet a mass party, had become ‘national’ to the extent that it could demonstrate the support of important segments of Moroccan society and which had created a skeletal structure which the post-war movemen would flesh out.

The article represents part of the research for a book on the origins and rise of Moroccan nationalism, 1921–1943.

Following the Anglo-Egyptian conquest of the Sudan, British unwillingness either to annex the territory or to allow its reincorporation with Egypt was given expression in the Anglo-Egyptian Agreement of 1899, under the terms of which Britain and Egypt were to rule jointly. But the ' Condominium Agreement' was in reality a device by which Britain managed and Egypt paid for the Sudan's administration. The central figure in that administration was the Governor-General, who, although formally appointed by the ruler of Egypt, was the nominee of the British government.

The development of the Governor-Generalship from its inception until the resignation of Sir John Maffey in 1934 owed less to the formal arrangements set down in the Condominium Agreement than it did to relations between the Sudan Government and successive British representatives in Cairo, and to changes in the Governor-General's own position within the Sudan Government. He remained pre-eminent throughout the period under review, but by 1934 his relative independence of Cairo was balanced by the power, within the Sudan Government, of a Council of senior officials.

Between 1775 and 1810 Andrianampoinimerina laid the foundations of the Merina state which in subsequent decades was to rule most of Madagascar. Though various circumstances such as the development of irrigated riziculture and slavery, the monopoly of profits and of muskets from coastal trade, and the manipulation of ritual, contributed in part to the nascent monarchy's strength, they equally touched other political formations within Imerina and elsewhere and therefore do not explain why Andrianampoinimerina's organization endured while others did not. The distinctiveness of Andrianampoinimerina's case is revealed by returning to particular events, those culminating in his first successful attempt to rule at Ambohimanga in 1783. His success depended upon exploiting both good luck and pervasive kinship values which recognized individual financial prowess. Thus the resurgent trade with the east coast did not redefine Merina kinship. Rather, trade provided an expanded arena of economic activity in which Andrianampoinimerina demonstrated superior skill at kinship politics, expanding his kin group and assuming the role of sole mediator between the residents of Ambohimanga and their ancestors.

This article analyzes the multiple and failed efforts to codify customary marriage law over the course of the twentieth century in colonial Gabon. It argues that these efforts illuminate the discursive arenas in which the colonial state, the church and African political leaders struggled to demarcate power and control over wealth-in-women. In a time of sociopolitical crisis and change state, chiefs and other elite African men all become involved in attempts to conceptualize, codify and administer customary marriage law. The contested process of codification reveals disjunctures in the articulation of male political authority in colonial Gabon.

This article examines a rehabilitation program for disabled Ghanaians developed by Kwame Nkrumah's government between 1961 and 1966. Arising at a time when Nkrumah was moving away from welfarism in favor of a ‘big push’ for industrialization, rehabilitation sought to integrate disabled citizens into the national economy as productive workers. Nkrumah's program was preceded by a colonial rehabilitation project during the 1940s for disabled African soldiers. The colonial initiative drew heavily on the British model of social orthopaedics, which equated citizenship with work. This philosophy resonated with Nkrumah's vision of national development based on full employment. Although its economic focus had troubling implications for citizenship and welfare, Nkrumah's rehabilitation program was unique among newly independent African states, and it arguably produced a positive legacy.

The examination of the growth of canoe transport in Buganda in the nineteenth century is an aspect of the kingdom's history that has received little serious consideration to date. This paper focuses on the ways in which the canoe fleet, especially from the 1840s, was systematically developed and utilized in the extension of Ganda power and influence in the Lake Victoria region. The need to protect and promote commerce was one of the driving forces behind Buganda's diplomatic, military and technological policies in the second half of the nineteenth century. This was consistent with objectives of the kingdom that had endured since around the middle of the sixteenth century, although the scale of these objectives had expanded along with the kingdom's horizons. Yet recognition of this basic continuity should not detract from our appreciation of the degree to which the Ganda innovated to meet the challenges of long-distance trade, as well as the challenges to their control of the external environment. The presence of Ganda at Tabora, on the southern shore of Lake Victoria, and even at Zanzibar itself is indicative of the alacrity with which Kabaka Suna (c. 1830–56) and Kabaka Mutesa (1856–84) seized their opportunities and attempted to secure conditions perceived to be favourable to the ‘national interest’ far beyond territorial borders. Yet Ganda also failed to realize the full military potential of their canoes. Despite their considerable efforts, the success of the naval endeavour was never without qualifications, and it is one of the primary aims of this paper to analyze these deficiencies.

Historians have recently come to appreciate the importance of studying the colonial legal system and the potential in mining court cases for historical data. This article is a preliminary effort to present a methodology for the study of the records of the entry level civil court, the tribunal de première instance, in Dakar, Senegal. The records are somewhat peculiar, because they are the consequence of the extension of the legal rights to the African originaires of the four communes of Senegal, which empowered them to bring civil cases before this court. However, these records share with records from other courts in colonial Africa problems of determining how the litigants' ‘testimony’ was shaped by the legal procedures of the court. This article, therefore, focusses on the context in which litigants' testimony was transformed into the texts we read as court records. In particular, it examines how the phases of litigation and how the court's bias towards written evidence shaped the court records. This research was stimulated in part by the need to locate new sources providing African ‘voices’ about the changes associated with the transition to colonialism. This article concludes with an appraisal of the historical potential of using court records for African social history.

Sekonyela's downfall is commonly attributed to his personal defects—to the love of war by which he alienated his neighbours, and to the rough treatment by which he alienated his own people, Conversely, Moshweshwe's rise to power is commonly attributed to his love of peace and to his benevolence.

This article does not seek to refute the traditional assessments of the characters of the two chiefs, but to suggest that as explanations for their diifering fortunes they are inadequate. Basically Sekonyela failed because, after 1829, he was poorer than Moshweshwe. The Tlokwa had to kill and consume many of their cattle during the first two years of the difaqane, and it seems that they never fully recovered their former prosperity. Moreoverj they suffered further heavy losses in the war with the Korana and their allies in the early 1840s. Sekonyela, therefore, was not in a position to attract and bind thousands of followers to himself by sustaining them. Hence, to a large extent, his raids on his neighbours' herds, and his unpopularity among his own people.

Moshweshwe, however, retained most of his cattle during the difaqane, and in 1829 conducted two richly rewarding raids against the Thembu. Thereafter his wealth far surpassed Sekonyela's, and it was mainly because of this that he was able to attract and hold so many followers.

The territorial expansion of the Sotho naturally brought them into conflict with the Tlokwa, and in 1853, after the British had indicated that they were not prepared to interfere in this dispute, Sekonyela was overwhelmed by Moshweshwe's superior forces.

During the formative years of capitalist agriculture, white farmers in the Orange Free State relied on both legal and extra-legal means to create a docile labour force of African workers. Coercive laws were a necessary component in the overall process of fashioning a rural working class out of quasi-independent squatter communities. Yet, no matter how repressive, the legal system alone was not sufficient to ensure work-discipline and docility on the white-owned farms. Frustrated with their inability to force African farm labourers to work diligently and to prevent them from deserting the farms, white farmers frequently turned to indiscriminate violence to sow terror amongst the dispossessed African rural population. White vigilantes formed a kind of paramilitary wing of the white farming class. While the state authorities never officially sanctioned vigilantism, those white farmers who used violence to intimidate their African labourers had little to fear with respect to prosecution, let alone conviction. Yet despite all their efforts to break the will of rural Africans, white farmers lived in continued fear of ‘native risings’. Rural Africans, too, remembered: the shooting incidents that occurred in the Orange Free State were indelibly etched in the collective memory of the emergent rural working class.

The arrival of European concession-seekers in Barotseland coincided with a period of internal instability in that kingdom. King Lewanika, fearing both enemies within the ruling class as well as Ndebele raids, decided to follow the example of his friend Khama of the Ngwato in seeking British protection. With considerable difficulty he prevailed upon a local missionary, François Coillard, to write a letter on his behalf requesting such protection.

It had already become clear that an important faction of the Lozi ruling class opposed the king's decision. Some of its members feared that his ‘protectors’ would make his overthrow that much more difficult; others were concerned that he more powerful white men would undermine the authority of the nation's traditional rulers. These suspicions received apparent confirmation when the representative who appeared to negotiate the concession proved to be an agent, not of Her Majesty's Government, but of the British South African Company. Thanks, however, to the ignorance of the missionaries who were interpreting for the court, as well as to the duplicity of Rhodes's agent himself, this distinction was successfully blurred. Opposition remained, however, until, at a critical moment in the negotiations, Khama's envoy threatened the council with harsh retribution if it refused to sanction the proposed treaty. In the face of this united stand of those who represented the power of the British government and its white associates and black collaborators, the National Council of Barotseland finally agreed to the concession, and, for better or worse, the Lozi found themselves under white ‘protection’.

The original draft of this article started with a quotation from O. G. S. Crawford: ‘… Irrelevant theorizing has been the besetting sin of the local archaeologist from the earliest times, and it is time it stopped …’ and continued by giving a rather detailed description of some pottery and metal objects found during the 1957 excavations of the Iron Age cemetery discovered at Sanga on the northern shore of Lake Kisale (northern Katanga). Especially for an area like the (ex-Belgian) Congo, where very little work indeed has ever been done on the protohistoric pottery cultures, we thought it essential first of all to give objectively as close a description as possible of the material remains of these prehistoric communities.

The modern history of the Sudan is here considered as beginning with the Turco-Egyptian invasion of a.d. 1820. From this date written records begin to be available in quantity, in sharp contrast to the pathetic scraps which have survived for the preceding Fung Kingdom of Sennar. This transition is indeed so abrupt that it is easy to over-estimate the extent and solidity of historical knowledge for the modern period. In fact, there are still large tracts where scientific historiography has yet to begin, or where at best a few exploratory soundings have been made; and much of the field has until very recently been dominated by rather superficial ‘general surveys’ often written with an eye to the current political situation.

By the end of 1955, territorial politics in Dahomey were dominated by three parties, the P.R.D. of S. M. Apithy, the M.D.D. of Hubert Maga, and the U.D.D. of Justin Ahomadegbe and others. Each party relied upon electoral support in clearly defined regions: the P.R.D. depended on the south-east, the M.D.D. on the north, and the U.D.D. on the residual areas of central and south-western Dahomey. The U.D.D. claimed, however, to be a new kind of party, transcending the narrow regionalism of its rivals and commanding ‘mass’ support rather than the uncertain and conditional support provided by ‘vote contractors’.

The loi-cadre reforms of 1956—7 led to an intensification of party activity, since they provided for the creation of territorial executives founded on electoral majorities and at the same time introduced universal suffrage. The 1957 Territorial Assembly elections were therefore a testing-ground for the tactics and strength of the three parties. Under pressure from the P.R.D., the U.D.D. adopted selection procedures like those of its rival. Outside the main towns, its campaigning was similar, concentrating on local issues to the exclusion of the wider questions on which the U.D.D. had hoped to take its stand.

Since completing my Ph.D. under John Fage in 1979 I have been working on critical editions of German, Dutch and French sources for the seventeenth-century history of West Africa. Many of these have been used uncritically, especially in the last twenty years. In my view it is wrong to cite such sources at all until one has at least attempted to establish the relationship between them. If one compares the whole corpus, one discovers a host of plagiarisms and other forms of interborrowing. At least half the Europeans who wrote about West Africa between 1500 and 1750 are known to have read the works of other authors. Using two chronological lists of publications which described the Ivory and Gold Coasts in this period, I seek to show that only a few can be regarded as purely ‘primary’ sources – mostly the ones which are least often cited.