This study stresses the role of common women in the history of Benguela in the nineteenth century. I emphasize the importance of parish records to unveil sectors of the society that tend to be invisible in the history of Angola, such as farmers, poor women who acted as vendors in the urban centers, and particularly, enslaved women. While some attention has been paid to merchant women, the so-called donas, and on political leaders, particularly Queen Nzinga, the same cannot be said about the poor and the enslaved women. Parish records allow us to access bits of information on the lives of women who did not leave written records and did not gain attention from the Portuguese authorities.

This article advances a new theory about the composition of the chronicle generally referred to as Tārīkh al-fattāsh. The Tārīkh al-fattāsh, allegedly written in the sixteenth-seventeenth century, is one of the most famous chronicles on which scholars have relied for information about West Africa’s pre-colonial history. However, there are still many puzzling issues and unsolved problems associated with this work, as edited by Octave V. Houdas and Maurice Delafosse in the early twentieth century. This analysis uses unexplored manuscripts that were either unknown or unavailable to previous scholars, and advances a new theory on the genesis and authorship of the chronicle: that the edited text in fact conflates two texts, a seventeenth-century chronicle and a nineteenth century one.

The so far unknown report by Norberto Correia, Portuguese administrator of the Baixo-Cunene border district, is an impressive document on forced labor and flight at the Angola-Namibia border, written by a controversial official fallen into disgrace after a regime change in the metropole. Correia’s acerbic and detailed analysis allows fresh interpretations of a border situation that is only at first glance well-known. By contrasting the Correia report with documentation from South African officials and the voices of their Ovambo partners in indirect rule, we come to clearer understanding of motivations and options at this unruly colonial border.

This article uses a hitherto overlooked category of historical source, an outstation chronicle covering the period 1911‒1920. It shows how juridical practice within the Protestant mission church of Nkoranza (then in the Ashanti region of what is now central Ghana) created and sharpened a Christian group identity in a predominantly non-Christian context. It is argued that the interdependence of the in-group and out-group at the local level helped to shape the church’s juridical forms.

This essay argues that the history of southern Ghana exhibits far more continuity from the era of the slave trade to the time of British colonization in the late-nineteenth century than one can find in the existing historiography. Emphases on the expansion of the Asante kingdom and on the increased activity of European missionaries, capitalists, and bureaucrats have obscured the steady growth of indigenous cultural, political and social institutions which culminated in the formation of the Fante Confederation of 1868.

This paper analyzes the “Southern” Afro-Brazilian Catholicism which was brought to West Africa by former slaves from Brazil prior to the expansion of the “Northern” European Catholic missions. In examining two significant mass baptisms held in the town of Agoué in 1846 and 1855, this paper explores the religious history of the Aguda or Afro-Brazilian freed slaves, and how they built a network of ethnic, commercial, and affective relationships by means of Catholic baptism and godparenting. The Aguda’s Catholic affiliation (rather than conversion), beyond being coextensive with Brazilian identity, served to produce a merchant community whose main activity, in the early period, was the slave trade. The paper also discusses the methodological potential of cross referencing and fertilizing West African data with Bahian data in order to elucidate how the returnees’ appropriation of Catholic ritual was shaped by their previous Brazilian experience.

Refugee life stories have developed as a popular medium for attempting to portray southern Sudanese wartime experience. These narratives of war and exile have been told, edited and published in what has become an explanatory industry in refugee work worldwide. The development of this economy of life stories from the early 1980s, however, has encouraged the propagation of standardized displaced “life stories” as a discrete narrative genre. This article traces the formulation of this distinctive style of historical explanation and argues that this genre, while claiming emancipatory agency and “voice” for marginalized people, has instead become a narrative trap.

This article explores the use of oral sources in constructing South Africa’s Black Consciousness movement history, including the difficulties in dealing with oral histories dominated by the figure of Steve Biko. It argues that despite its limitations, historians can use oral history to effectively pursue both the actual past and the contemporary meaning of oral history in a balanced way. It further argues that in doing so, historians should respectfully, yet critically incorporate emotions expressed in these interviews into their analyses to provide a richer and more accurate history.

I argue here against two things: fetishizing the power and wholesomeness of colonial archives, and equating the scarcity of post-1960 repositories with new difficulties to write the past of Africa. Instead, I suggest the productive power of odd findings, and the necessity for historians to trust the energy of heterodox pieces to create original and meaningful historical narratives.

This paper observes that historians of Africa often rely on experience for evidence, and it asks whether we do so with adequate rigor.

Inspired by my experiences in archives and research fields in Northern Nigeria, this essay analyzes four overlapping phenomena: archival fragmentation, the politicization of data and research transactions, the proliferation of memoirs and other texts of self-representation, and the question of sensing the African past beyond the recognized oral, written, and ethnographic corpus. At once familiar and novel, these trends present both problems and possibilities for historians of postcolonial Africa, and need to be negotiated carefully. I propose, in preliminary terms, that a complementary methodology of what I call sensing is not only possible but necessary if we want to fully capture the pace and flavor of postcolonial African experiences.

Using my experience working in the Regional Archives of Labé (Guinea), this essay examines the importance of using local archives to write political histories of postcolonial Africa. In doing so, I argue that the fractured and fragmentary nature of the postcolonial holdings of archives – often cited as a hurdle to writing histories of Africa after independence – is in fact the product of the states that (sometimes inadequately) maintain these repositories. As such, these “imperfect” archives should be approached as an opportunity to examine the local practice of statehood in postcolonial Africa.

African historians frequently argue that it is almost impossible to research postcolonial history because of the absence or haphazard nature of African archives. I argue that this is not so much an obstacle to writing the history of Africa after 1960s as it is a complement to it: incomplete and chaotic archives and documents scattered around the globe reveal some of the sloppiness of governmentality and how hit-and-miss statecraft has been in the recent past.

The Luso-African [or Afro-Portuguese] ivories from West Africa include hunting horns (so-called “olifants” or “oliphants”), spoons, and lidded bowls (saltcellars) embellished with human figures and animals. These objects, first imported into Europe at the beginning of the sixteenth century, have engendered debate over dating and provenance. While scholars agree that the early sixteenth-century pieces were produced by “Sape(s)” (or “Sapi”) artists from the Upper Guinea Coast (“Serra Leoa” in Portuguese sources), there is substantial disagreement whether post-1550 ivories came from “Serra Leoa” or Nigeria. This article argues for Serra Leoa, based on a methodological approach whereby Portuguese written documents, establishing the socio-historical context, and demonstrating continued production by “Sape” artists, are a necessary pre-condition to any stylistic comparison of objects.

The Swahili communities of the East African coast have often been characterized as middlemen, defined by their ability to navigate – often quite literally – the economic networks linking the African Interior and the Indian Ocean rim. Yet diversity has increasingly been recognized between Swahili communities. In this paper I add to the awareness and explication of Swahili diversity through comparative analysis of the archaeology of the southern Tanzanian town of Mikindani. In particular, I work to extend our knowledge of political and economic competition in East Africa backwards from the better documented nineteenth century. For Mikindani, its inhabitants’ changing abilities to access certain kinds of ceramics trace the competitive structures of this part of the coast and provide evidence for their success or failure in navigating a complex economic landscape.

This article presents a history of sixteenth and seventeenth century central East African efforts to define elements of a regional fashion aesthetic, one supplied by their engaged participation in wider African and Indian Ocean world economies. I investigate regional artisanal economies in the central East African mainland, looking specifically at communities in what is now southern Tanzania and northern Mozambique and their uses of one of the most “exoticized” elements of their fashion: lip ornaments often called lip-plugs. Close readings of sixteenth and seventeenth century Portuguese accounts and historical linguistics evidence reveals a new history of developing regional fashion trends. Such a history underscores the importance of regional consumers and artisanal experts in shaping wider East African precolonial economies.

This article explores the lives of several copper alloy vessels (bowls, basins, and ewers), made in Egypt and England, that were carried across the Sahara just before the dawn of the European age of exploration, and that eventually found their way to central Ghana. It considers how and why prestige metal goods, some of them produced for specific individuals, became trade commodities that traveled thousands of kilometers, ending up in Akan communities where they were given new meanings. In thinking about material things and the mutability of meaning, the article attempts to address how we might understand these trade items as discursive “objects of knowledge” connecting peoples living in different times and different places.