In 1971–2 I undertook research in part of the very densely populated farming zone around Kano city (often called the Kano close-settled zone) in order to compare it with a Hausa village, Batagarawa, some 100 miles further north in Katsina Emirate, where I had lived and worked in 1967. At Batagarawa farmland is not scarce and members of the community are free to establish farms on uncultivated (bush) land, some of which is no further than a mile or so from the village. For some 30 to 40 miles or more around Kano city, on the other hand, there is little or no uncultivated bush and farmers with insufficient land are obliged to buy or to ‘borrow’ (aro) farmland from others. My purpose was to compare and contrast the socio-economic organization and economic conditions of farmers in the two localities, with special reference, in so far as this variable could be isolated, to population density.

Pacemaking groups are characterized first by their success with the authorities; second, by their achievements in economic life; and, third, by their efficient mobilization and organization of supporters (Morris, 1968: 34). The existence of such groups tends to inhibit the emergence of occupational or class interests since less successful individuals attribute the success of the pacemaking group to their corporate ethnic solidarity rather than to any organizational skills. This essay explores the characteristics of two such groups, ethnically distinctive pacemakers and the salariat (government paid officials), by presenting the case of an individual who sees both types as his reference groups in the small country town of Gondo in Eastern Uganda in 1966. Because of their marked visibility, both types of pacemaking group are politically vulnerable at times of change, transition, and unrest. They become the object of political scapegoating and, in extreme cases, are subject to ‘cephalicide’. An analysis of the context in which this is likely to occur throws light upon the position and role of pacemakers in the total situation.

The importance of oral traditions in the reconstruction of the history of non-literate peoples has virtually ceased to be a matter for debate and is now generally acknowledged. Indeed, within the last few years, historical research, based on such traditions has made possible histories of many societies in Africa. But in spite of this general acceptance, the diversity of oral traditions has not been so fully recognized as to make possible the analysis of each type as historical data. In this regard, the history of the Yoruba provides a good example. Their culture has accumulated around it a rich variety of oral traditions whose study has made significant contributions towards the understanding of their past. For the earlier period of their history, their historians have had to rely mainly on oral traditions; even for the latter period, in spite of the existence of written documents, oral traditions have still proved very useful in giving a balanced view of events. The tendency, however, has been for the historians of the Yoruba people to regard oral traditions as no more than personal recollections and generalized historical knowledge. In the main, they have failed to give cognizance to oral literature; experience elsewhere, however, has shown that a meaningful utilization of oral traditions in historical reconstruction cannot afford to neglect this third category, which is for historians of non-literate societies what literature is for the cultural and social historians of literate societies. Moreover, the Yoruba themselves treat some forms of oral literature as quasi-historical records.

The marriage of a woman to a woman, found in many African societies, has not been given the attention it warrants, and is still imperfectly understood. Herskovits imputed to it sexual overtones that are foreign to the institution when, after stating quite definitely that such marriage did not imply a homosexual relationship, he went on to add ‘although it is not to be doubted that occasionally homosexual women who have inherited wealth…utilize this relationship to the women they marry to satisfy themselves’ (Herskovits, 1938, 1: 319–20). He made no attempt to substantiate his statement. And Lucy Mair, for all the clarity and grasp displayed in her excellent book on marriage, seems to have failed to appreciate the nature of the institution when she says, ‘According to Evans-Pritchard's account of the Nuer it is usually barren women who make such marriages, and indeed it is hard to imagine a woman who had her own children doing so’ (my italics; Mair, 1971: 60). In actual fact it is usually married women with children of their own who contract such marriages, except, it would appear, among the Nuer. By woman-marriage we mean the institution by which it is possible for a woman to give bridewealth for, and marry, a woman, over whom and whose offspring she has full control, delegating to a male genitor the duties of procreation.

In the course of tracing the social aspects of witchcraft and sorcery in East Africa, Middleton and Winter (1963: 11–13) distinguished two types of neighbourhood. In type I neighbours tend to be co-members of a unilineal descent group; type II in terms of descent is heterogeneous.

The authors implied that, while tensions existed in both these neighbourhoods, type I was likely to give rise to more acute forms of interpersonal conflict. It is an involuntary association in which relationships are ascribed at birth, being therefore ‘inborn and innate’, i.e. compulsory. By contrast, neighbours of the second type ‘…live together because in the ultimate sense they choose to do so’. This freedom of choice conduces to an easier contact between them as proved by the absence of accusations of withcraft and the prevalence of accusations of sorcery. Accusations of sorcery are viewed by Middeton and Winter as symptoms of milder conflicts.

In the past anthropology was concerned with alien, exotic societies such as Indians, Africans, and Pacific Islanders. Today it is in vogue to do the anthropology of modern societies. Abroad this is termed the study of nation-building and development; at home it becomes the study of various sub-cultures with attention towards ethnic minorities and deviant groups rather than upon the more powerful and prominent segments of our society. Anthropologists tend to neglect those groups nearest themselves, and in the scurry to conduct relevant research, a broad area of great theoretical interest has been passed by. Almost no attention was ever paid by anthropologists to the study of colonial groups such as administrators, missionaries, or traders. Today we can read anthropological studies of the impact of such groups upon native populations, but the focus of such work dims with the colour line. Thus, an anthropologist has studied the machinations of the members of a Nigerian emirate but not the tactics of the British Resident and his staff. Another applied potted Weberian bureaucratic theory to Soga local government but neglected to discuss the British district officers in the same chiefdom. Another asked how Christian Tswana behaved, but not about those missionaries who had converted them. Anthropologists may have spoken about studying total societies, but they did not seem to consider their compatriots as subjects for wonder and analysis.* In the studies of Christianity in Africa, consideration was mainly in terms of the relations of the convert to his traditional society, to the process of social change, or sometimes to the development of native separatist churches. It never included the missionaries who had made the conversions or described everyday affairs at the mission station, clinic, or school.

The aim of this article is to interpret and understand certain Sewa Mende socio-spatial categories and at the same time to attempt to reveal an order in the otherwise confusing complex of supernatural spirits. This limited aim may be justified in so far as the Mende are among the most documented of West African societies, and yet an examination of the principal works (Little, 1951; Harris and Sawyerr, 1968) would suggest that Mende society consists of a constellation of unconnected elements. Thus their secret societies have received considerable attention, but what has a secret society (hale) to do with, for example, medicine (hale), an object for swearing by (hale), or a magical thief-catching device (hale)? Little has described them as ‘“broadly speaking” patrilineal’ (1951: 98) though his data hardly support even this vague contention. And to what are the diverse modes of supernatural spirit related? Mende culture as a whole may indeed show a remarkable lack of coherence and Harris and Sawyerr (1968: xii) have commented on the cultural variations among the different groups that constitute the Mende nation; consequently it is pertinent to add that this article is based wholly on ethnographic observations made among one of these groups.

At the level of belief Igala religion is rather unsystematic and comprises belief in a number of different spirits whose mutual interrelationship is not very clear. A Western observer would tend to rank the various spirits in terms of their order of magnitude or degrees of power. At the top of the hierarchy would come Ojọ, the supreme being and creator. Another spirit with wide powers in Igala belief is Anẹ, the spirit of the earth. Then there are various oracle spirits known generically as ẹbọ, with the function of giving protection against witchcraft. Their congregation may be large or small according to the success of the spirit in unmasking witches by striking them with illness and making them confess to their wrongdoing. Operating within a more restricted range are the ancestor spirits who are the guardians of well-being in particular clans, lineages, or lineage segments. Within the complex of ancestor worship falls the dyadic relationship between an individual and his personal ọjọ or guardian spirit. The guardian has responsibility for the destiny of its ward. Finally there are fetishes, ode, which are made and worshipped by individuals, and which are believed to ensure success in daily life by affording protection against the misfortunes that witchcraft and sorcery can bring.

Aen croire les documents anciens, l'histoire des Wolof jusqu'à la conquête coloniale aurait surtout consisté en une succession de pillages, de razzias, de révoltes, d'usurpations sur un territoire divisé en plusieurs royaumes et en état de guerre quasi-permanent. Pour échapper aux razzias des mercenaires ceddo, nombre de paysans badolo se sont convertis à l'Islam et regroupés derrière des marabouts par l'acte de ‘Jibulu’, serment d'allégeance. Pourtant à l'heure actuelle, les Wolof offrent l'image d'une société relativement paisible. Ce que l'opinion publique occidentale considère généralement comme des indices d'agressivité sociale—la criminalité, la délinquance—semble peu développé. Les suicides comme les meurtres sont relativement rares. Des combats d'antan, on ne trouve plus que les compétitions sportives et parmi elles, seule la lutte sénégalaise (lamba) semble susciter quelque intérêt. Il faut encore préciser ce qu'est la lutte sénégalaise. Ses séances se déroulent de la manière suivante: après des heures d'attente pendant lesquelles on parle, les lutteurs (mbör) arrivent, équipés d'un arsenal magique spécifique, avec leurs assistants (suhö) sur un rythme de tambour qui leur est propre. Ils exécutent alors une chorégraphie étrange qui consiste en des simulacres de gestes de saisir, d'attraper qui sont à mi-chemin entre la danse et le simulacre d'empoignade. Les assistants du mbör font les mêmes gestes que lui. Au bout d'un certain temps, se produit la lutte proprement dite, très courte, au terme de laquelle, sans que le spectateur européen comprenne pourquoi, l'un des protagonistes est proclamé vainqueur.

Les Azza appartiennent au vaste groupe culturel formé par les Teda et les Daza, qu'on appelle communément Toubou, population islamisée dispersée au Nord du Tchad sur un territoire d'environ deux millions de km2 et que se partagent les deux Républiques, celle du Niger et celle du Tchad.

Artisans castés, les Azza dépendaient autrefois des Daza: émancipés depuis quelques années, ils adoptent petit à petit le mode de vie de leurs anciens maîtres, éleveurs de bovidés dans cette zone sahélo-soudanaise où ils côtoient d'autres populations pastorales: Arabes Choa, Arabes Ouled Sliman, Peuls.

The main purpose of this paper is to show how recent research into the process of urbanization in Africa and into the structure of African cities and nations compels us to rethink our theories of urbanization in general.

The relationship between theory and research is a reciprocal one. New research compels the creation of new models, and new models suggest new subjects and methods of research. But both theory and research are affected by politics in the broadest sense of the term. Many African scholars consider the study of modern Africa by Westerners an extension of economic and political colonialism, especially when African cities are studied in terms of Western models. And many African governments, aware of the social problems involved in urbanization, seriously study the work of both African and non-African social scientists. The period since 1960 has been one of rapid development in the study of urbanization in Africa and the rest of the world, and the African material should throw new light on general theories of urbanization.

This article examines the historical development of a particular cultural institution, the Yoruba cult of twins, with a view to providing an added perspective into the working of the institution as it exists today. After a brief reference to some of the evidence supporting the view that the cult represents a reversal of the former practice of twin infanticide I shall consider the possible origins of the cult and attempt to outline the process of reversal leading to its later development.

This is an essay about strangers in a West African society. It asks how ethnicity constrains role selection and role performance. It asks why members of bounded ethnic groups occupy specific professions and exploit specific ecological niches in a multi-ethnic society. Field information from south-eastern Niger reveals the environmental and cultural elements which together generate a distribution of peoples into single ethnic and multi-ethnic occupations. My concern is with the processes of boundary maintenance among ethnic groups rather than with their distinct cultural contents. Barth has pointed out (1969) that in multi-ethnic interaction, ethnicity itself is a critical factor in status ascription. This is a simple and unassailable observation. The behavioural character of the ethnic unit must be demonstrated; it cannot merely be assumed a priori.

As with many other East African peoples, political authority and the control of wealth in So are linked inextricably with age as a determining factor. A close analysis of their age-grading structure is requisite to a complete understanding of the So way of life. Furthermore, because this structure is based upon a recently borrowed model of proper social stratification an examination of the system is instructive to scholars interested in acculturative interaction between societies.

The Shona-speaking complex of tribes covers most of present day Southern Rhodesia, stretching to the Zambian border along the Zambezi River and into Mozambique in the north and to the Indian Ocean in the east. The Korekore group is the major northern division of the Shona-speaking peoples. The original Korekore appear to have been a band of Karanga invaders from the south who entered the middle Zambezi Valley in the fifteenth century and established the Mwene Mutapa confederacy. Today the Korekore group occupies an area extending south from the Zambezi between longitude 28° and longitude 33° east, including the low-lying valley floor and the middle and high veldt or plains to the south where most of the population is concentrated (Garbett, 1966). The valley floor in this region has been considered a poor habitat by African and White settlers alike. The climate is generally poor, there are few cattle because of the tsetse fly, the area is economically undeveloped, and the population is sparse and scattered. Because of their poorer habitat the valley dwelling Korekore have come to be distinguished from their more fortunate highland neighbours to the south and are disparagingly known as Goba or poor lowlanders. In times past they have also been known as Banyai or vassals to the stronger Shona chiefs on the more populous cattle-rich highlands, and also as Chikunda or followers of the Portuguese and half-caste traders operating along the Zambezi in the nineteenth and earlier centuries. This historical background of changing political relations symbolized by changing ethnic identities will be described elsewhere (Lancaster, n.d.).

The town of Winneba is situated on the coast of Ghana some forty miles west of Accra and fifty miles east of Cape Coast. It is the seat of the paramount chief (Omanhene) of the Effutu people and was formerly an important seaport providing storage and loading facilities for cocoa produce. Since the construction of modern harbours at Takoradi and Tema, however, Winneba's maritime importance has declined. With a population of over 25,000, its major sources of income are fishing and farming and it also serves as a market centre for the people of the local area.