This article examines how historiography makes its objects and includes critical reflections on the epistemological frames that have shaped historical representations of Central African states and social structures. The article examines the seductive quality of migration narratives; mythical features of some classical models, creating order from reduced totalities; historiographic burdens imposed by questionable anthropological models of kinship and matrilineal descent; and asks if the prevalence of dual regimes of priest and king is a product more of ideology than history. The article argues for increasing recognition of the value in political studies of data relating to religion and art.

The slave trade in Angola, specifically in the district of Ambaca, transformed the social organization of its inhabitants at the grass-roots level by introducing an ever increasing quantity of coveted commodities and by providing credit in counterpart for pawnship. The trade provoked both the emergence of a new structure, the corporate matrilineage and the apparition of a new elite, when colonial chiefs coopted their commercial rivals, including local leaders who had efficiently used the assets of their corporate matrilineages to further their individual ambitions.

This article, focusing on the operation and abolition of human sacrifice in eastern Yorubaland, examines a key aspect of the dialogue and conflict between Yoruba chiefs and their opponents – slaves, Christians and British colonialists – during the late nineteenth century. The exchange reflected the position of human sacrifice in the consolidation of economic inequalities and socio-cultural privileges. The article examines this controversy in the context of the broader changes of the era, including the ending of the Yoruba wars and the approach of colonial rule. It analyses the interaction of external and internal forces that produced the eventual demise of human sacrifice.

Southernmost Africa (here meaning South Africa, Lesotho and Swaziland) provides an excellent opportunity for investigating the relations between farming, herding and hunting-gathering communities over the past 2,000 years, as well as the development of societies committed to food production and their increasing engagement with the wider world through systems of exchange spanning the Atlantic and Indian Oceans. This paper surveys and evaluates the archaeological research relevant to these communities and issues carried out in the region since the early 1990s. Among other themes discussed are the processes responsible for the emergence and transformation of pastoralist societies (principally in the Cape), the ways in which rock art is increasingly being incorporated with other forms of archaeological data to build a more socially informed view of the past, the analytical strength and potential of ethnographically informed understandings of past farming societies and the important contribution that recent research on the development of complex societies in the Shashe-Limpopo Basin can make to comparative studies of state formation.

Recent scholarship on ‘neo-traditionalism’ and colonial governance in Africa has challenged assumptions about the ‘invention of tradition’ and the ability of the colonial state to create wholly innovative kinds of local authority. This article explores one episode in the development of the authority of Ali el Tom, probably the most famous ‘traditional’ ruler in Condominium Sudan. It suggests that Ali el Tom's authority was a creole product, which drew on local moral codes and colonial forms of authority, but was not fully part of either. The willingness of his people to accept this sometimes abusive authority relied on a partly illusory sense that it was familiar; but this willingness was not unlimited, and on occasion actions from below set limits to the invention of authority and tradition.

This article offers a cultural approach to Murid migration to eastern Bawol. It argues that Murid settlement of eastern Bawol was part of an effort to transform the land then under French colonial domination into daar al Islam (house of Islam) or daara al Murid (house of the Murids). This endeavor to create Murid sacred space in Bawol was a conscious effort undertaken by sheikhs and disciples under the leadership of Amadu Bamba. The process of building daar al Murid unfolded in three empirically overlapping but analytically distinguishable steps: first, physical occupation of the space; second, its investment with religious meanings; and third, the containment of French cultural influences.

Current attempts at understanding ‘neo-traditionalism’ in Africa stress the limits of invention and warn against according too great a role to colonial intervention. Colonialism nevertheless remains important to our understanding of specific neo-traditionalisms, not only because it forced particular social and economic changes on to African communities but also because of the way that Africans appropriated colonial claims. This article explores how Igbo villages were re-imagined as a result of the complex relations between Igbo ‘sons abroad’ and their hometowns during the colonial period. Appropriating the colonizers' claims to bring ‘progress’, migrants attempted to achieve status and influence in the villages from which they had migrated. These strategies shaped not only how migrants perceived their connection with their village, but also perceptions of the village itself: it came to include the ‘sons abroad’ in a diasporic public sphere that was not in itself geographically defined, but existed through reference to the village.

The article adopts the approach of a group biography in discussing the careers and ambitions of early black South African doctors selecting both those trained abroad, and the first cohorts trained within South Africa who graduated at the Universities of Cape Town and the Witwatersrand from 1945–6. It focuses on the ambiguities involved, by looking at tensions between professional altruism and entrepreneurialism in pursuing a medical career, as well as that between self-interest and selflessness in attempting to balance the requirements of a medical practice against those involved in political leadership. The paper highlights the significance of the political leadership given by black doctors in the mid-twentieth century and indicates the price paid for this in loss of medical resources under the apartheid regime. Two annexes provide original data on the medical and political contributions of individuals.

This article investigates Ewe engagement with British administrative policy via the story of a chieftaincy dispute in Ho, British Mandated Togoland, that erupted when Britain attempted to amalgamate two neighboring chieftaincies, Ho-Dome and Ho-Bankoe, by deploying a model with an ‘ethnic stamp’, that of the neighboring Akan states. Colonial-era chieftaincy has received substantial scholarly attention. This article argues that the relationship between the models deployed to reorganize chiefly power and the roles of protagonists is just as significant as the layered conflicts within chieftaincies and their respective clans. Two responses to ‘Akanized’ amalgamation are investigated: the petitions of its opponents, and the rituals developed by chiefs, priests and peasants to herald the amalgamations.

This article examines the categorical problem that persons of ‘mixed-race’ background presented to British administrations in eastern, central and southern Africa during the late 1920s and 1930s. Tracing a discussion regarding the terms ‘native’ and ‘non-native’ from an obscure court case in Nyasaland (contemporary Malawi) in 1929, to the Colonial Office in London, to colonial governments in eastern, central and southern Africa, this article demonstrates a lack of consensus on how the term ‘native’ was to be defined, despite its ubiquitous use. This complication arrived at a particularly crucial period when indirect rule was being implemented throughout the continent. Debate centered largely around the issue of racial descent versus culture as the determining factor. The ultimate failure of British officials to arrive at a clear definition of the term ‘native’, one of the most fundamental terms in the colonial lexicon, is consequently suggestive of both the potential weaknesses of colonial state formation and the abstraction of colonial policy vis-à-vis local empirical conditions. Furthermore, this case study compels a rethinking of contemporary categories of analysis and their historical origins.

The story of freedom fighter Jean Djonteu provides a new approach to the history of Union des populations du Cameroun (UPC) nationalism in the Grassfields and Mungo regions of Cameroon. Within the context of Baham, his village of origin, Djonteu's actions and tracts reveal his politico-spiritual reasons for joining the UPC militia in its revolutionary fight against Franco-Cameroonian state administration. UPC nationalism and village political culture formed a hybrid of political ideologies, or a ‘village nationalism’ articulating UPC anti-colonialism with Grassfields political concepts of nation and sovereignty that pre-dated European occupation. As this articulation disintegrated, Grassfields populations disengaged from state politics and turned inwards towards village political culture and spirituality rekindled by popular involvement in the UPC nationalist movement.

The history of the imperial/colonial elite's preoccupation with saving a handful of specific ‘game’ species in reserves has come to stand for the relationship of all classes with all wild animals in both South Africa and the wider world of the British empire. The result is a narrative of process and periodization flawed in general and false in the specific case of the Cape Colony/Province, where economics rather than ideology was both the primary motor of game conservation and the mediating factor in human relationships with wild animal species. Here the general trend across the century from 1850 to 1950 was, contra MacKenzian orthodoxy, towards private not public ownership of game propelled by a rural rather than an urban elite. Public ownership was instead restricted to ‘vermin’ species in which the state created a market in which it became the chief consumer. The Cape's great tradition was refracted through its customary permissive legislation to yield a myriad of small traditions at the regional or local level. Rather than an argument for Cape exceptionalism, its wild animal history is a caution against glib generalizations from the elite archive and an indication of the need to broaden prevailing ‘game reserve history’ to include the full range of human and animal inhabitants as agents rather than as residual analytical categories in any narrative.

After World War II, African ex-servicemen in Kenya sought to maintain the socioeconomic gains they had accrued through service in the King's African Rifles (KAR). Looking for middle-class employment and social privileges, they challenged existing relationships within the colonial state. For the most part, veterans did not participate in national politics, believing that their goals could be achieved within the confines of colonial society. The postwar actions of KAR veterans are best explained by an examination of their initial perceptions of colonial military service. Indeed, the social and economic connotations of KAR service, combined with the massive wartime expansion of Kenyan defense forces, created a new class of Africans with distinctive characteristics and interests. These socioeconomic perceptions proved powerful after the war, often informing ex-askari action.

Most analyses of apartheid labor policy focus on the regulation of the labor market rather than the industrial workplace. Instead, this article investigates the administration of South Africa's 1953 Native Labour (Settlement of Disputes) Act to examine shop-floor control rather than influx control. The article argues that in response to the threat of African trade unionism, apartheid policymakers in the Department of Labour addressed the problem of low African wages and expanded the use of ‘works committees’. By shifting the debate about capitalism and apartheid away from influx control and migrant labor, and towards industrial legislation and shop-floor conflict, the article places working-class struggle at the center of an analysis of apartheid.

WITH the publication of these two volumes, the historical study of Islam in sub-Saharan Africa has reached its maturity. Drawing on five decades of scholarship since the professionalization of African history, and the long traditions of Islamic and African studies before that, these works – one the first truly usable textbook survey of the field, the other the first comprehensive reference – are both a successful culmination of what has gone before and guides to the paths ahead. In some cases the authors' and editors' careers are virtually synonymous with the field as a whole, as with the late Nehemia Levtzion, and all are among the acknowledged authorities on their specialties. David Robinson, author of Muslim Societies in African History, is one of the few who have established themselves as authorities on both the precolonial and colonial periods, and his work is central to active debates in each subfield. The individual and collective stature of Levtzion and Randall L. Pouwels, editors of The History of Islam in Africa, along with that of the twenty-two other contributors, makes the authority of the volume unprecedented.

VAN Sittert's review article, which included coverage of my The Rise of Conservation in South Africa: Settlers, Livestock and the Environment, 1770–1950 (Oxford, 2003), contained so many inaccuracies and misrepresentations that it is difficult to let it pass. These undermine many of the points he purports to make, on both small and substantive issues. The Journal of African History is one of our few journals of record and I would like to set the record straight. I have only limited space for this rejoinder, and it will be impossible to take up all relevant questions.

GULAG is the Russian acronym for the Chief Administration of Corrective Labour Camps made famous and permanently inscribed into the English vocabulary through the genius of Alexander Solzhenitsyn in his classic, The Gulag Archipelago 1918–1956: An Experiment in Literary Investigation, published in 1974. The author used the testimony of 227 survivors as well as recollections of his own 11 years of labour camps and exiles. The Archipelago of Solzhenitsyn's work is that system of secret police installations, camp prisons, transit centers, communication facilities, transport systems and espionage organizations which, in his view, was a state within a state holding about 15 million people. The book shows how ordinary people, who are referred to by their own names, can be turned into planners and executives of oppression, brutality and torture.

The editors of this volume affiliate their mission with an amplified and heightened sense of history that has swept Africanist scholarship in the post-independence era. They claim to take historical archaeology in Africa in a new direction by beginning the process of constructive interaction between history and archaeology (pp. 27-8). An intended component of their project is to create ‘alternative histories rooted in explicitly African sources’ (p. 16). They further raise our anticipation that the volume will examine the disjuncture between the practice of archaeology and contemporary life on most of the continent. This is a noble sentiment, yet the contributors fail to draw on African scholars who attempt to make archaeology pertinent to daily African lives. The editors' insistence on African representations in writing the past is poignantly contradicted by the paucity of African authors in their volume fourteen years after Peter Robertshaw's A History of African Archaeology was faulted for its failure to include more than two (non-white) African contributors. This practice largely restricts knowledge production to hegemonic Western perspectives and subverts the book's primary rhetorical theme of giving ‘voice’ to silenced African pasts. The cost of the paperback – $70 – also hinders access to African readers and their capacity to engage issues that arise in the fourteen chapters, three of which focus on West Africa, three on East Africa, one on North Africa and five on southern Africa.

‘THE discipline of history’, E. P. Thompson once said, ‘is, above all, the discipline of context; each fact can only be given meaning within an ensemble of other meanings’. By disputing points of detail Beinart elides the original review's central criticism that the book suffers from the omission of the political economic context. I will address the contested details before restating the gist of the original critique and by so doing suggest that it still stands unanswered.