The search for the African origins of contemporary socio-cultural forms found in black populations in the South Atlantic region is a well-established scholarly pursuit. Most scholars have argued that certain institutions and ideas brought from Africa were retained over time and survived in more or less recognizable form. It is further argued that specific institutions can be directly linked to the importation of Africans from specific areas in Africa. Although in the debate on Africanisms many writers have also argued the contrary, the emphasis in the scholarship has been on demonstrating the degree to which Africans in the diaspora managed to retain these socio-cultural institutions (Frazier, 1939; Herskovits, 1968).

Two major omissions fault the published scholarship on the subject: first, the lack of details of the process by which Africans retained, reinterpreted, or abandoned these institutions; and second, given similar circumstances of transfer, an explanation of the varying degrees of faithfulness to the original institutions in different areas. In other words, the lack of survival, though equally interesting and potentially intellectually rewarding, is a neglected aspect of the scholarship.

The case of Yoruba religious ideas is an example of this bias. Yoruba religion apparently remained “so faithful to its ancestral traditions” that it is one of the most frequently cited examples of an African survival. The scholarship on the topic is rather extensive, but none of it is historically or ethnologically sophisticated. Attempts have been made to explain its persistence in some areas by reference to the late arrival of a large number of Yoruba as victims of the slave trade: it is argued that “both the strength of the continuities and their relative lack of modification probably are related to recency of migration and to the presence [in Trinidad] or nearness [in Cuba] of freedom” (Mintz and Price, 1973).

Development does not occur at the same rate everywhere. The resultant unequal distribution of development concerns planners throughout the world. A variety of spatial investment strategies which affect the development pattern have been proposed. They range from the dispersed, equality oriented investment of Tanzania's ujamaa to the primate city concentration of Ivory Coast's efficiency oriented “African Riviera” project in Abidjan. Most countries throughout the world have sought a middle course—one of “deconcentrated concentration”—in an attempt to balance efficiency and equality considerations. Specifically they have chosen to invest their development capital in “growth centers”—urban areas that have a high potential for generating development in their immediate area and throughout their region. This policy prescription is based on the optimistic belief that development generated in the urban center will spread to the hinterlands of the region.

Kenya has explicitly incorporated a policy of growth centers into their Development Plans. That the country's planners subscribe to the belief of positive spread effects is evident in the following Plan statements:

The interdependence between rural and urban areas grows in the process of development and with it comes the enhancement of the role of the town as the producer of goods and services and the consumer of agricultural production. This interaction leads to cumulative self-sustaining growth (Kenya, 1974a: 114).

Rural life cannot be complete without towns any more than towns can be complete without access to the countryside, and it will be an objective of Government policy to promote the growth of a number of towns to a size where they are large enough to provide the people of the surrounding districts with many of the facilities and amenities available in a modern city (Kenya, 1969: 15).

In recent years, the study of mission history has achieved a remarkable vitality, partly owing to the ready availability of material but deriving more fundamentally from a growing integration with the major thrusts of contemporary African historiography. It would seem appropriate at this point to attempt a “progress report” on these accomplishments and to suggest some possible directions for further investigation.

From its inception, mission history has paralleled rather closely the larger tendencies of African history generally. Formal examination of the subject was initiated by missionaries and their supporters and gave rise to what might be called the metropolitan-ecclesiastical school of mission history. Focused on European strategies for the planting of Christianity in Africa and on the heroic missionary efforts to implement these plans, this literature hardly spoke to the theme of encounter at all. In this respect, it resembled the early colonial history which saw Africa as a stage on which Europeans of all kinds played out their interests and their fantasies.

Taking vigorous exception to this view of the African past was what might loosely be called the nationalist perspective in African historiography, which emerged strongly in the 1950s and the 1960s. In consonance with this new emphasis on African initiative, historians of mission activity began to probe the ways in which African perceptions and reactions conditioned the pattern of mission expansion, the extent to which evangelization was an accomplishment of African catechists rather than European missionaries, and the kinds of protests that were generated against mission policy and attitudes.

Unemployment problems in urban areas of less developed countries throughout the world have stimulated increasing interest in analyzing the impact of wages on labor supply and demand and in formulating appropriate wage policies. The urban-rural wage differential is a significant variable in attempts to measure the determinants of labor supply through migration from rural areas (Beals et al., 1967; Greenwood, 1969; Knight, 1972; Rourke and Sakyi-Gyinae, 1972). The level and growth of wages relative to capital costs may influence the labor intensity of investment and production through substitution, and hence affect the rate of growth of employment (Fajama, 1973; Frank, 1971; Harris and Todaro, 1969; House, 1973; Maitha, 1973; Roemer, 1971, forthcoming; Senga, 1973). Increasing attention is being paid to inequalities and changes in the distribution of wages and income (Ewusi, 1971; House, 1975; McCabe, 1974) and to the trade-off between unemployment and wage or price inflation (Ajayi and Osayimwese, 1974). Many of these studies stress the importance for employment growth of wage restraint relative to the price of capital and relative to productivity and product price increases over time. Hence it is essential for governments under pressure both from unions and from unemployment to have an accurate measure of the level and growth of the appropriate wage when trying to make wage policy decisions.

A curious state of uncertainty existed, still exists, and may never be wholly removed, as to the extent of land alienated by the chiefs of the Gold Coast during the concessions scramble which occurred during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The degree of uncertainty is at once brought out by the following two views on the matter. On the one hand, it is said (Belfield's Report, 1912: paras. 38-50) that the area of land alienated was only a fractional proportion of the total area of the Gold Coast, amounting to no more than one twenty-seventh of the area. On the other hand, it is said (WALC Draft Report, 1916: paras. 157 and 161) that the chiefs of the Gold Coast alienated an area which actually exceeded the total area of the territory itself. The objects of this article are three: first, to describe the nature and character of the concessions scramble which occurred in the Gold Coast during the period under consideration; secondly, to examine critically the opposing views as to the extent of land alienated and show where the truth is likely to be; and thirdly, to describe the interesting social and economic problems which resulted from indiscriminate alienation of land in the Gold Coast during the period, and the reaction of British officials to such problems.

During the second half of the nineteenth century, the Gold Coast received great publicity in Europe as a great producer of gold. Prospectors and concession hunters flocked to the area. They entered negotiations with the chiefs and elders, who were induced by offers of “big money” to execute documents granting mining and other rights over vast territories of stool land, in which all the stool subjects had an interest.

This article will identify some of the problems in technical education during the first decade of independence and then attempt to assess critically official attempts to solve these. Suggestions will also be made to indicate what future trends ought to be in national interests.

One problem is that the term “technical” as used in Kenyan education embraces a wide range of meaning. At one end of the spectrum, any consultant from abroad, be he a football coach or a tax specialist, is referred to as a technical adviser. At the other extreme “technical education” refers to the training of craftsmen, technicians, business administrators, secretaries, agriculturists and the like, personnel who are involved in production in industry. Generally most official reports allude to craftsmen and technicians, without drawing a distinction between the two, when they refer to technical training; yet others make a distinction between the types trained.

Another problem which confronted administrators was raising the quality of technical education given in specialized secondary schools run by the Ministry of Education. The four secondary technical schools located in Nairobi, Nakuru, Mombasa, and Sigalagala are well equipped. In 1973 these had a total enrollment of 2,215 students. The Wamalwa Commission (1972), however, had cause to complain about the standards of the eight secondary vocational schools which had a total enrollment of 3,718 students in 1973; most of these students left school “with no terminal qualifications of marketable value.” These eight schools which were located at Kabete, Kaiboi, Machakos, Mawengo, Meru, Kisumu, and Nakuru offered only pre-craft training in masonry, carpentry, and the allied trades.

The Seventh Special Session of the United Nations General Assembly Devoted to Development and International Co-operation, which ended on September 16, 1975, after round-the-clock negotiations between developing and developed nations, succeeded in producing a resolution which was adopted unanimously. The preamble of the resolution reaffirmed the General Assembly's intention “to eliminate injustice and inequality which afflict vast sections of humanity and to accelerate the development of developing countries” (U.N. General Assembly, 1975: 1). The resolution identified measures the international community could take to accelerate the pace of development. The Seventh Special Session is another indication of the developing world's determination to create a “New International Economic Order.” This article will discuss what is meant by this increasingly invoked phrase and examine the changing political realities which account for international economic issues becoming the dominant concern of bodies such as the United Nations. We will then analyze the decisions taken at the Seventh Special Session and discuss some of their possible implications for development in Africa.

The Seventh Special Session, which had been planned for almost two years, came only eighteen months after the General Assembly had convened in a Sixth Special Session to consider problems of raw materials and development. Two extraordinary sessions in such a short period of time (the first special sessions ever convened to discuss economic issues) demonstrate the seriousness of the economic crisis confronting the world.

The Sixth Special Session, convened in April 1974 on the initiative of President Houari Boumédienne of Algeria, met at a time of deepening economic turmoil.

“The study of foreign policy is under-developed” (Brecher, 1972: 1). This observation is particularly accurate for Africa, where analysis has concentrated on the role of presidents and on the ideology of states in the international system. As a small contribution toward the development of foreign policy analysis in Africa, this article focuses on the variety of actors in the foreign policy system of Zambia. It is an attempt to present an exhaustive typology of actors in the system as well as an analysis of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs; it is not concerned either with the ideology of Zambia's foreign policy (Shaw, 1976a) or with the structural constraints within which decisionmakers operate in Zambia (Shaw, 1976b). Rather, the limited intent of this essay is to provide a comprehensive list of actors in the Zambian foreign policy system and to begin to analyze the bureaucratic politics which affect the policy output. The focus is on the relevant part of the operational environment which affects foreign policymaking in Zambia, especially on the structures of government and industry, domestic and foreign interests, and on communication between these actors (Brecher, 1972: 3-4; Brecher, Steinberg and Stein, 1969). Because of problems of research access, information on structures is more readily available than information on the processes of decisionmaking.

It is a common belief, both within and without Nigeria, that in 1967 there was a sharp reversal in Nigerian foreign relations. That year, it is claimed, marked the end of Nigeria's pro-western and anti-Soviet stances. At the extreme, proponents of this view seek to ridicule Sir Abubakar Tafawa Balewa, the first prime minister, as essentially a Western stooge and, conversely though unwittingly, to laud the post-1967 Gowon regime as a veritable independent actor, guided solely by objective requirements of the national interest. This claim (and stereotype-creating) is based on asymmetirc evidence and unsystematic analysis: asymmetric, because it relies on Nigeria's image of and attitude towards the Soviet Union to the exclusion of the corresponding Soviet image and attitudes which might have conditioned Nigeria's Soviet policy in the first place; and unsystematic, because it eschews the political, economic and ideological milieu in which Nigerian-Soviet relations operate. One danger, especially for policy making and policy outcome, is the possible exaggeration of superficial and ephemeral changes to obscure fundamental and enduring continuity in relations. This paper aims to put Nigerian-Soviet relations in a perspective that avoids this failing and, in the process, to underscore the factors of continuity which, it is believed, will determine the future prospects.

Nigerian-Soviet relations, Douglas Anglin (1964: 257) once observed, are determined by “the images which each country has of the other.” Before Nigeria's independence on October 1, 1960, these images were far from flattering. All evidence indicates that Nigerian leaders, like their counterparts in other developing countries, had a morbid fear of communism and communist infiltration and subversion (see indications in House of Representatives Debates, henceforth HRD, August 1, 1958: 85; February 12, 1959: 210; and March 1959: 46-48).

Anthropologists working in a number of regions in the world have noted the existence of a positive relationship between population density and state formation (R. Stevenson, 1968: 1-7). The only area to which this generalization has not been applied is Africa south of the Sahara. In writing about African societies, Fortes and Evans-Pritchard assert that

Furthermore, they base this conclusion not only on evidence from the eight societies included in African Political Systems but also on data from other African societies which “prove that a large population in a political unit and a high degree of political centralization do not necessarily go together with great density” (1940: 8).

In his interesting and insightful book, Population and Political Systems in Tropical Africa, Robert Stevenson implies that the seemingly anomalous assertions by Fortes and Evans-Pritchard have gone unchallenged for decades because of the stature of the two anthropologists rather than the weight of the evidence (1968: 5). Only Eisenstadt clearly states that this is an empirical question which requires further systematic analysis (1959: 204). Stevenson cites a number of instances in which Africanists noted a relation between population density and political organization, but none in which the relationship was systematically examined (1968: 5-6).

This study is intended to be more than a narrative history of civil-military relations in the pre-colonial Ndebele society (located in what today is the Matabeleland District of Rhodesia): it seeks to stimulate interest in, and to develop a systematic framework for, investigating and evaluating the character of militarism in Ndebele society, and in pre-industrial, subsistence-level societies in general. Hopefully, it will provide insights for broader application in examining modern civil-military relations in both African and non-African societies.

The study has been developed within two methodological frameworks. The first endeavors to apply current theories of fragmentation and fragment societies (Hartz, 1964) to the study of non-Western society. The Ndebele were a Nguni fragment of the Zulu Kingdom (Omer-Cooper, 1966; Lye, 1969). Like the early white settlers in America, Canada, South Africa, and Rhodesia, they were forced to cope with problems of migration, conquest, settlement, and rapid incorporation and assimilation of indigenous peoples. Also, like the settlers, the Ndebele had to restructure some of the institutions of their parent Zulu culture to meet the challenges of their new environment. As a fragment people, they had to institute new formulae for self-identity, self-determination, and nationalism.

The second framework is a broad, interdisciplinary approach to the study of civil-military relations. It is assumed that civil-military relations of any society should be studied as a system composed of interrelated and interdependent elements. The most important of these are: the structural position of the military institutions in the society; the function and influence of the military in politics, in public administration, and the society at large; and the nature of the military ethic compared to the dominant political ideology of the society.

Cross-cultural research is like virtue—everybody is in favor of it, but there are widely differing views as to what it is and ought to be.

— N. Frijda and G. Jahoda

Cross-cultural investigation of cognition is an endeavor with its own special problems. Numerous and elusive variables to be controlled, experimental results that are frequently inconclusive or difficult to interpret, the necessity for skills in other disciplines—these are the nemeses of cross-cultural psychological researchers. Yet if psychology is to have a more universally applicable perspective on cognitive functioning than it possesses at the present time, psychologists will need to find ways to live and work with such difficulties. This paper will review some of the attempts at such research conducted by psychologists who seek to understand cognitive processes as they are manifested among African peoples.

Before the formal study of cognitive processes across cultures began, there was a long dialogue among scholars of various persuasions comparing the mental faculties of people in different cultures. While this paper is concerned primarily with a review of experimental studies of cognition, an awareness of some of these earlier philosophical/theoretical discussions provides a useful backdrop for the consideration of the formal psychological studies. Crystallized within the discussions are some of the enduring issues that have confronted cross-cultural researchers.

Often, these discussions centered around highly controversial issues. One of the major controversies of cross-cultural research is the question of whether or not the mental processes of people in nontechnological societies differ qualitatively from the mental processes of people in technological societies.

Adventure stories are favorites among children in many parts of the world. Africa has been the locale of hundreds of children's adventure stories written by African and non-African authors for over a century. These adventure stories, along with other fiction, are just as powerful teachers about Africa as are professional educators.

This essay will compare the adventure stories of three wellknown and popular authors (as judged by literary critics and child readers) who based their stories on extensive firsthand experience in Africa. The writers belong to three different generations, and their adventure stories are typical of those of many other writers of their time. Representing the Victorian Age is George Alfred Henty, whose name is “probably identified above all others with the Victorian adventure story” (Townsend, 1975: 63) and whose books were so popular with children that in 1894 some British teachers limited the number that students could read (Welsch, n.d.). The early twentieth century is represented by Rene Guillot, the initiator of the exotic novel for children (Jan and Patte, 1973: 360) and winner of the Hans Christian Andersen Prize of the International Board on Books for Young People—a prize which has been awarded only three times since 1958. Although Guillot wrote all of his children's books in French, almost all of them have been translated into English. Barbara Kimenye (a journalist from Uganda, short story writer, and one of East Africa's most prolific children's writers) represents the mid-twentieth century. She writes about ordinary people “who live outside the pale of ordinary society” and makes their lives interesting (Nazareth, 1974: 167).

The political climate of the post-war world did not permit the United States to embark on a new era of isolationism in 1945, but few Americans demonstrated much awareness of Asian or African developments. French North Africa was more familiar than many colonial areas because American military operations during the war had acquainted the public with Morocco, Algeria, and Tunisia. When demonstrations against French control erupted throughout the Maghrib after VE Day, a minority of Americans recognized that this region of French rule, but of intensely nationalist feelings, could become a serious trouble spot. With the subsiding of the riots, however, even the largest newspapers in the United States offered only limited information on North African events.

During the next decade, leaders of the independence movements waged a campaign to familiarize Americans with the situation in their countries and gain support for their views on how Franco-Maghribi problems could best be resolved. In outlining that campaign and discussing its strategy, this essay attempts to asses the importance which North Africans attached to American sympathy, the methods which they utilized to attain it, and the results which they achieved.

Late in 1946, a spokesman for the Committee for the Liberation of North Africa called the public's attention to the inadequacy of the coverage of the American press. In a lengthy letter to the New York Times, M. Aboul Ahrass accused France of denying foreign newsmen access to North Africa because of the fear that their reports would discredit the French administrations (December 30, 1946: 18).

The rehabilitation process for psychiatric patients presupposes a thorough investigation of the prevailing values, treatment modalities, and the interaction between various sub-systems. For instance, a psychiatric patient's career is underlined by three phases or subsystems: the prehospital, the hospital, and the post-hospital phase. Of significance in the prehospital phase is the role of next of kin in the etiology of illness (Laing, 1971; Lidz, 1963), and in the referral of patients to mental health delivery-systems (Clausen et al., 1955). Also, psychiatric delivery-systems are characterized by complex therapeutic processes of immense relevance in the evaluation of post-treatment performance of treated patients (Goffman, 1961).

The study of post-treatment outcomes for treated psychiatric patients inevitably involves the post-hospital phase, during which familial units and significant others may provide or withdraw the necessary support for the mentally ill. Because mental illness carries with it social stigma, rehabilitation may be hindered unless total support, acceptance, and tolerance are manifested in concrete terms among members of patients' families or significant others. The tolerance and support from patients' next of kin tend to improve post-care performance, and in turn reduce the rate of recidivism among the mentally ill (Freeman and Simmons, 1963).

Certainly, the family as a sub-unit constitutes a fabric in the rehabilitation process. Moreover, the family becomes singularly important in an essentially agrarian and non-literate society, where this institution assumes socio-economic, religious, and sometimes medical functions. Despite the modernizing influences of education and religion, the Yoruba family still assumes these functions (Lloyd, 1959; Bascom, 1959; Fadipe, 1970).

A radical change in an educational system, as well as being the result of a social revolution, is a means of consolidating it. In a developing nation like Ethiopia which is undergoing a social upheaval, education has a vital role to play. It permits the articulation of the aspirations of the masses as a subject fit for knowledge. It helps to associate knowledge with the critique of the oppressive conditions of life and commits it to the transformation of society and the development of human potentialities.

It is a truism that education, as a conveyer belt of human values, skills, ideas, and facts, is an integral aspect of a society's reproduction of itself. The conflicts and tensions that germinate in a given society, the solutions, both functional and dysfunctional, that the political system generates to resolve them find their way into the educational system and condition its structure and content.

The educational system and the education imparted therein could even be in certain situations, the expression, indeed the embodiment of one of society's tensions, and as such, is transformed into a catalyst—if not of social change, at least of social awareness that leads to the development of an action oriented ideology. The study presented here will attempt to elaborate on these different aspects of education through an empirical investigation of the relationship between traditional education and socio-political processes in Ethiopia in the course of this millenium.

This article is intended to serve as a preview of a detailed study of the two administrations of Governor Louis Léon César Faidherbe (1854-1861 and 1863-1865) which has been in preparation for some years. For despite his recognized importance as one of the founders of French rule in west Africa, he has remained surprisingly unstudied but nevertheless the subject of several myths. Although an article of this length obviously cannot pretend to be comprehensive, it will stress those general aspects of Faidherbe's two administrations—personal, military, political, and administrative—which have been most prone to misinterpretation and exaggeration.

The core of Faidherbe's achievement in Senegal was his realization of the so-called plan of 1854, the synthesis of a series of ministerial instructions (SOM: Sénégal I, 37-40: MMC to Protet, 1/4, 1/5, 11/, and 12/14/53; and 1/21, 5/18, 7/27, and 12/18/54) which had been given first to his predecessor, Captain Protet, and then to Faidherbe himself. These instructions recapitulated a plan which had been put forth in two petitions addressed to Protet which Marc Maurel of the Maurel and Prom Company of Saint-Louis and Bordeaux had written and had had signed by the major wholesalers, merchants, and other notables of Saint-Louis, the first in December 1851 (SOM: Sénégal XIII, 1a) and the second in February 1854.

This plan, parts of which went back to the 1820s, called for the French, based in small enclaves on the Atlantic coast at Saint-Louis and at a few other posts along the Senegal River, to become the dominant power in the area rather than one among many, some of whom were stronger than they.

During the period between the two world wars, a principal theme underlying African education was a belief that the black school system of the American South constituted a suitable model for Africa. Thinking along these lines was prevalent throughout the continent (especially in the English-ruled colonies and Liberia), but nowhere was it stronger than in South Africa. This was mainly due to the Union's unique position of having a large settler population that was steadily augmenting its political sovereignty. White South Africans could readily view their positions as akin to that of white southerners in the United States, while Africans could easily draw parallels between their situation and that of black Americans. Certain individuals, institutions, and organizations in the United States believed that American answers to problems of race relations (which encompassed education) were applicable to other countries—they thus stood ready to aid South Africans in transferring and adapting a generalized American model of black schooling to the South African environment.

In fact, more than one model of black American education for South Africans existed. Africans viewed what was for them a progressive education system that emphasized black initiative and educational advancement. For example, while only 25 percent of their children attended school and 88 percent of their community were illiterate, 70 percent of black American schoolage children were in school, and black illiteracy had dropped from 90 percent in 1866 to 23 percent in 1926 (Huss, 1931: 2). White South Africans (those not totally opposed to some form of schooling for Africans) saw a system that seemed to train blacks sufficiently for living in a modern society yet served to limit any challenge they might pose to white control.