This paper sets forth the methodology employed to establish and refine a dating system based on genealogies collected during field research in two areas of Africa, Agago county in Eastern Acholi and Awe district in the Benue Valley. Interview sessions with the elders normally lasted from two to four hours and many topics might be, and usually were, discussed in the course of a single interview. To demonstrate the progression of questioning relative to multiple themes would be beyond the space available or the stamina of readers. It is proposed rather to isolate the problem of chronology and show how, throughout the fieldwork period, achieving accuracy should be a major preoccupation and of greater or lesser concern in every interview. The regnal list is not collected once or twice or thrice. It forms a problem which continuously protrudes into the interviews, more so in the early stages of fieldwork, less so in the later, but seldom totally ignored.

When historical research focused on large kingdoms such as Bunyoro or Oyo, a vague and extremely relative chronology was adequate for many research objectives. One consequence of this type of research was a precolonial history of modern African states fashioned from a series of chapters, each one concentrating on spearate tribal traditions. The impression created was of isolated groups whose interaction, except for some outstanding military conflicts, awaited the coming of Arabs and Europeans. Since these aliens brought dates, integrated regional histories were forced to await their coming.

The word “club” as employed in “Mombasa Club” derives from the late eighteenth century and signifies “an association of people formed mainly for social purposes and having premises, providing meals, temporary accommodation, etc., for the use of members.” The early nineteenth century saw a spate of new London clubs such as the Travellers in 1819 (for gentlemen who had traveled abroad), and in 1824 both the Athenaeum (the most intellectually elite of all the London clubs), and the Oriental (founded by officers in the service of the East India Company who were not eligible for the military clubs of Pall Mall). One purpose of these clubs was to give gentlemen living space from which their womenfolk were excluded. The expansion of a new British empire, from the beginning of Queen Victoria's long reign, saw the establishment of “English” clubs in Asia (especially in the Indian subcontinent) and in Africa (especially from Cape Town to Cairo). A major purpose of these “English” clubs abroad was to give members living space from which natives were excluded. The Mombasa Club, dating from the end of Queen Victoria's reign, fits into this pattern.

This article examines the digitization policy of Archives du Maroc (AdM), Morocco’s national archival institution, which was set up in 2011 and opened in 2013. Given its recent creation, the AdM lead us to question the particularity of digitization in archiving policies when included from the start rather than retroactively. Through an analysis of the creation and development of AdM as a public policy connected to national efforts at transparency and “good governance,” I argue that digitization has served as a way of performing modernity through technology and international standards, thus reinforcing the legitimacy of a nascent institution.

Mapping Senufo: Art, Evidence, and the Production of Knowledge – an in-progress, collaborative, born-digital publication – will offer a model for joining theories about the construction of identities and the politics of knowledge production with research and publication practice. In this article, we examine how computational methods have led us to reframe research questions, reevaluate sources, and reimagine the form of a digital monograph. We also demonstrate how our use of digital technologies, attention to iteration, and collaborative mode of working have generated fresh insights into a corpus of arts identified as Senufo, the nature of evidence for art-historical research, and digital publication. We posit that the form of a digital publication itself can bring processes of knowledge construction to the fore and unsettle expectations of a tidy, authoritative narrative.

The Société des Missionnaires d'Afrique, more commonly known as the Pères Blancs or White Fathers, began its work of proselytizing in northern and sub-Saharan Africa in the second half of the nineteenth century. Their archives, located in Rome, are a treasure trove for Africanists of all disciplines. In founding the order in 1868, Cardinal Lavigerie, archbishop of Algiers, charged its members to bring Christianity to Africa not by imposing European civilization on Africans but rather by converting the inner man while maintaining the external indigenous forms of dress, food, shelter, and especially language. Lavigerie wrote that it was thus indispensible for the fathers to learn the local language as rapidly as possible, and in areas where the language had not yet been studied, one member of the mission was to spend one or two hours each day compiling a dictionary. In addition, the superior of each post was to keep a daily journal in which he entered, among other matters, information gleaned from the local people about their history, geography, and customs. This journal, Lavigerie wrote, could easily become “une mine féconde.” Another obligation of the superior was to send a monthly letter to the Maison-Mère in Algiers describing the progress of the mission, the health of its members, and any extraordinary local events or activities by the authorities.

These injunctions of Lavigerie have yielded a very valuable collection of material on nineteenth- and twentieth-century Africa that is housed in the White Fathers' headquarters in Rome. (The transfer from Algiers took place in 1952.)

De Heeren Thienen, executives of the college of directors of the West-Indische Compagnie (W.I.C.) in Amsterdam, demanded that their directors-general in Elmina keep accurate journals or day books, copies of which had to be sent to Holland regularly and at short intervals (one to three months), to each of the five “Kamers” or Chambers: Amsterdam, Zeeland, Maas, Stad, and Lande en Noorderquartier. These journals were produced during most of the period of two and a half centuries that the Dutch resided at the Gold Coast. All of the still-existing journals are now stored at the Algemeen Rijksarchief (ARA) in The Hague in Holland.

Unfortunately, many of the manuscripts dating from before 1700 have gone, lost either by deliberate destruction, by thoughtless bureaucrats, or by accidental fires. Of the manuscripts now in the ARA many are in poor condition and are not available for consultation; others are being microfilmed, which makes studying these valuable documents somewhat tiresome. Fortunately, when I transcribed the day book of 1721 on my laptop computer, I was lucky enough to be able to use the original manuscript; a few weeks after I had finished this job the manuscript was microfilmed and is now available only in that format. The only other existing transcription of a journal of Elmina was published in 1953 by Karel Ratelband, whose Vijf dagregisters van het kasteel Sao Jorge Da Mina, covers the years 1645 to 1647.

The journals of Elmina written or dictated by the directors-general were used by the Heeren Thienen in Amsterdam primarily as a tool to control their staff on the Gold Coast.

Mallam Muhammad Bakatsine was one of the most outstanding figures in nineteenth-century Kano history. He stands out in tradition as a figure who is almost luminescent—his virtues seem overpowering and his faults, if any, totally unrecorded. And yet we know surprisingly little about him; we don't know when he was born nor when he died. Although praised as a great scholar, we don't seem to know of anything he wrote. He was, in short, a legend in his own time, and as with most legends the personal traits and characteristics that are so necessary for us to grasp the personality of a historical character have been completely eliminated from the record. It is troublesome that the record is so vague for such an important historical figure, but even more upsetting is that the modern literature has distorted Mallam Muhammad Bakatsine's role, even to the extent of accusing him of being a collaborator with the anti-jihad forces in Kano and of being an opportunist.

I believe that these distortions have resulted from a very uncritical use of colonial sources. These colonial sources were not the product of careful scholarly historical research, even though they often reflect something from the oral traditions about the jihad. These colonial recorders were generally opportunists themselves, as indeed were many of those Kano citizens supplying them with information, and so we must be very cautious when using the information they provide. Too frequently—as with the story of Bakatsine's sister Habiba's alleged interview with Sheikh Usman dan Fodio resulting in a new name for their clan—they have been repeated over and over again in the literature without being examined to see if there is any merit in them.

Towards the end of 1886 four missionaries set foot on Cameroonian soil in the harbor of Douala. They were representatives of the Switzerland based Basel Mission (BM) who had arrived to take over from the pioneers of Christian mission work in Cameroon, the British Baptists, two years after this part of west-central Africa had been brought under German colonial rule in 1884. Their challenge was founded on the key objectives of consolidating and expanding the web of christian communities which had been established along the Atlantic coast north of the Wouri estuary.

Today, just over 110 years later, traces of the Basel Mission's enterprise are widely spread over the Anglophone South West and North West Provinces of Cameroon. These remnants of the past have been partly reshaped to suit the specific patterns of church activities and administration among their African target groups; partly they have been effaced through the erosive impact of time. But only partly, for numerous episodes and aspects of this chapter on religious and social history are well documented both in substantial collections of records and in several publications.

Michael Scott, the long-term Gandhi-esque opponent of the South African government, was a man of many talents and one of his ignored skills was using a cine-camera. Between 1946 and 1948 as he worked in Tobruk squatter settlement near Johannesburg and environs and traveled to Namibia, in addition to his powerful writing, he also filmed scenes he encountered. The purpose of this note is to share the delight of viewing “Civilization on Trial in South Africa.” It is, as far as I can ascertain, the first “protest” film made in South Africa, yet is not mentioned in the standard histories of film in southern Africa (Cancel 2004, Davis, 1996, Botha/van Aswegen 1992, Tomaselli 1988). While working on another project I fortuitously came across a copy in the Smithsonian Film Archives that I had copied and have deposited in the Namibian Archives.

The Smithsonian catalog dates this 24-minute edited black and white film to ca. 1950, and believes that it was shot between 1946 and 1952, prior to the implementation of the Group Areas Act, although it seems likely that shooting was completed earlier, before Scott was declared a Prohibited Immigrant in the late 1940s. Certainly, reading the documents on Scott's travels to Namibia, it seems likely that portions of his film was shot before 1948. In his autobiography, A Time to Speak, Scott mentioned showing the film in 1949 (Scott 1958:248). The Smithsonian obtained the film from the late Colin Turnbull, an Oxford educated Africanist anthropologist (J. Homiak, personal comment).

In early summer 1999 I spent three days at the White Sisters' archives in Rome, and the following account may best be described as a cautionary tale. My reason for being in Rome was to use the White Fathers' archives, where I spent a very productive three weeks. Since I was interested in issues of medical care and gender in colonial Uganda, both areas of activity by the White Sisters, the White Fathers' archivist suggested I try to visit the White Sisters archives as well. He called and made the arrangements for my visit, although the White Sisters' archivist, Sister Claire-Michelle, was quite reluctant.

I found the research conditions at the White Sisters archives to be very restrictive. Sister Claire-Michelle established a work space for me in a parlor on the ground floor of the house, and my time was spent there. The archives are kept on the third floor and I was not allowed to see them. The archives are not completely cataloged, although there are some lists of materials. I explained to the archivist my interest in issues of gender and health, and in general issues dealing with African women. She never really seemed to understand, and kept bringing me material about African nuns. When I did request specific materials she brought them to me only after she had screened them. At one point I requested a report written by a sister in early twentieth-century Uganda who was inspecting various stations. Rather than bring me the report, Sister Claire-Michelle read through it and then brought me some photocopied pages.

Historians would readily agree that among the most important sources for Asante history are the written accounts of foreign visitors who traveled to Kumase during the nineteenth century. A work such as Ivor Wilks's Asante in the Nineteenth Century (Cambridge, 1975), for example, is almost unthinkable without T. E. Bowdich's Mission from Cape Castle to Ashantee (London, 1819) and Joseph Dupuis' Journal of a Residence in Ashantee (London, 1824). These two published and reprinted primary sources are justly famous for their rich evocations of encounters with Asantehene Osei Tutu Kwame (reigned 1804-23) and members of his court. But there are a number of unpublished accounts—and those published in relatively obscure places—which also contain important historical data but which are lesser known and less often cited by scholars. In English one thinks of, among others, British Governor William Winniett's journal of his visit to Kumase in 1848; in French the extensive notebooks of Marie-Joseph Bonnat; and in German, the report of the missionary A. Riis.

A number of Dutch-speaking visitors also traveled to Kumase during the nineteenth century and left valuable written accounts, though few have ever been published. Language barriers have often prevented full use of the rich data they contain. Among the more important are those of Willem Huydecoper in 1816-17, Jacob Simons in 1831-32, Jacobus de Bruijn in 1836-37, H. S. Pel in 1842, and David Mill Graves in 1857, extracts from whose journal I have translated below.

Graves served as secretary on a Dutch diplomatic and trade mission which was dispatched by Governor J. van den Bossche to the Asantehene, Kwaku Dua Panin (reigned 1834-67) in July 1857.

Forty-five years ago (1965), when some of us were beginning our studies of the history of the Upper Guinea coast, there existed only a few published general histories of Guinea-Conakry or region-based models to guide us. André Arcin's substantial works (1907 and 1911) provided original but awkward structures from which we could commence our work, but his monographs tended to be based heavily upon a colonial presence, a necessity to make sense of a complex colony, and a reliance upon oral traditions or other uncitationed sources, many of which could not be tested a half century later. Christopher Fyfe's comprehensive history of Sierra Leone had just been published in 1962. Fyfe's foremost emphasis was to chronicle the development of the Sierra Leone settlement and chart that colony's progress, but his extensive documentation was extraordinary in that it demonstrated the clear link between the “Northern Rivers” and British enterprise from Freetown and opened Britain's archives as sources of information about the history of these rivers in new and profound ways.

Earlier works by Lucien Marie Francois Famechon, Jules Machat, Fernand Rouget, Laurent Jean B. Bérenger-Férand, Ch. Bour, and others, centering upon the peoples, economies, and terrain of coastal rivers, continued to be instructive, but these authors were writing at the end of the nineteenth and the beginning of the twentieth century, and they tended to treat the histories of indigenous peoples as interesting and exotic and at the same time relatively unimportant to the colony's regional development.

This article describes the archives of the Fellowship Foundation, best known as the organizers of the National Prayer Breakfast in Washington DC. The secretive character of the Fellowship probably accounts for its lack of visibility in African historical narratives to date. This article makes a case that this evangelical network was significant as a clandestine “track two” diplomatic organization with ties throughout Africa. Historians of international relations, it is suggested, may find useful sources in the public archives of Fellowship Foundation correspondence at the Billy Graham Center at Wheaton College in Illinois. The article reviews the records for several countries and offers examples of the banal, secretive, and sometimes usefully suggestive evidence to be found in the correspondence.

The reference to Antera Duke of Old Calabar in HA 16 (1989) encourages me to contribute a note on this historical notable.1 A gross imbalance exists in the scholarly study of black slavery. The shelves of academic libraries groan under the weight of books on black slavery in the Americas. Yet for every hundred books on trans-Atlantic black slavery and the Middle Passage, there is at best a single volume on black slavery in Africa. Moreover, the curt preliminary chapter dealing with slavery in Africa mandatory in books on black slavery in the Americas, not uncommonly limits itself to repeating anachronistic moralizing cliches that show little awareness of up-to-date Africanist knowledge of slavery in Africa—and exhibit little empathy with past African enterprise. There is some excuse. Any historical social process shared between preliterate and literate societies will inevitably have fuller and clearer source material in respect of the latter than in respect of the former. Information on black slavery in the Americas, on the Middle Passage, and on the non-African aspects of the procurement of slaves, is relatively abundant; information on the transmission of an individual African from an earlier non-slave situation, through the hands of Africans, to the point where he or she was handed over to non-Africans, is almost nonexistent. This being so, the publication in 1956 of the diary of an African slave trader, Antera Duke of Old Calabar, a diary covering the years from 1785 to 1788, was an outstanding historiographical event.

The Mutapa state occupied a triangle of land between the Zambezi river in the north, the Hunyani river and Umvukwe range on the southwest, and the Mazoe and Ruenya rivers on the southeast. It thus consisted of a small segment of the southern Zambezian plateau and an arc of the Zambezi valley lowlands. The state dated back to at least the fifteenth century, and some branches of its ruling dynasty continue to control fragments of the state under the governments of Rhodesia and Mozambique. These descendants of the Mutapa dynasty, like their fellow-members of the Korekore dialect cluster of the Shona-speaking peoples, retain traditions of their past that are passed on from generation to generation by an informal learning process. These traditions are almost all devoted to the ruling dynasties rather than to the mass of the people and are especially concerned with lines of descent and land rights. They range from myths to relatively accurate factual accounts, with a wide variety of traditions between these two extremes. It was at one time thought that the mediums of mhondoro ancestral spirits were equivalent to the professional tradition-keepers of states such as Rwanda, but this theory has not been adequately proven.

The Mutapa state is of especial interest because it is the only one of four known major Shona states—Zimbabwe, Torwa, Mutapa, and Changamire—to escape being uprooted entirely by new settlements of people, and the only one that was close to Portuguese centers (in which information was recorded). It has thus been possible to compare traditions and documents in a way that cannot be done for the other states. Because of the reluctance or inability of many researchers to work in Rhodesia and Mozambique in the last fifteen years, the history of the Mutapa state has been heavily dependent upon the work of D.P. Abraham, at least as far as traditions are concerned. Abraham collected traditions from ca. 1950 to 1971; but so far the only works of his that are readily available are eight papers, of which the most important were produced in the period 1959-1963. These have formed the basis of most of the secondary writing on the Shona states; the inter-relationship between them and a developing archaeology has been discussed in an earlier article, and only a few points of this discussion need be brought in here.

Gerhard Rohlfs was born in Vegesack near Bremen in 1831. He was a frequent traveler in Africa, and in 1865-67 he became the first European to travel from north Africa across the Sahara to the west African coast, from Tripoli to Borno, then through Bauchi and Keffi to Loko, thence down the Benue to its confluence with the Niger at Lokoja, which he reached on 28 March 1867. From there, he proceeded upstream along the Niger to Raba, delivering presents to Masaba of Nupe. From Raba, he traveled overland through Yorubaland to Lagos. In 1868 he published an account of the first half of this journey, from north Africa to Borno, in Petermann's Mitteilungen. In 1872 his account of the second half, “Gerhard Rohlfs' Reise durch Nord-Afrika vom Mittelländischen Meere bis zum Busen von Guinea, 1865 bis 1867, 2. Hälfte: von Kuka nach Lagos (Bornu, Bautschi, Saria, Nupe, Yoruba),” also appeared in Petermann's. A later publication, Quer durch Afrika, which appeared in 1874-75, covered the entire journey.

Rohlfs' accounts of his travels in west Africa south of the Sahara have up to now been greatly neglected. The works mentioned above have never been published in English translation, which no doubt goes some way to explain this neglect. Rohlfs' information on his stay in Kuka (the capital of Borno) and his visits to Bauchi and Nupe have been cited by some scholars, at least. Very few, however, appear to have consulted his description of the last leg of his 1866-67 journey, in which he proceeded from the Niger south through Yorubaland to Lagos, visiting Share, Ilorin, Iwo, Ibadan, and parts of Ijebuland on the way.

The archives for Northern Nigeria, including not only the area north of the Niger and Benue rivers but also present-day Kwara, Kogi, and Benue states, is located at 29 Yakubu Gowon Way, Kaduna, in the heart of the busy central commercial and administrative district of the town. The Kaduna branch of the Nigerian National Archives has a large, comprehensive and unique collection of official papers of the British colonial and Nigerian independence periods; papers of native and local authorities; and newspapers, magazines, and other publications, as well as Arabic manuscripts. The archives is open on weekdays only. From Monday to Thursday its hours are 8:30 to 2:30, while on Friday there is a shortened day: 8:30 to 12:30.

No documents will be produced from the repository within one hour before closing time. In 1991 240 visitors made some 800 visits to the Kaduna archives. On each visit, the visitors' book must be signed; signing out at the end of the day is also obligatory. Use of the archives requires the purchase of a searcher's registration card costing 10 naira ($1.00 or 50 pence) for students, 25 naira for others. The card is valid for the other National Archives branches at Ibadan and Enugu and lasts for that calendar year. Renewals are carried out in subsequent years. Photocopying facilities are available, give excellent reproduction, and are cheap—50 kobo (5c/3p) per exposure for students, one naira for other researchers.

Judicial and legal records in the National Archives of Ghana headquarters repositories are important primary source materials for historians, social scientists, and other researchers, and in particular practicing lawyers. The holdings of the national archives service, both in Accra and its network, cover records relating to the political and bureaucratic activities of government. This paper focuses on the Accra holdings pertaining to judicial and legal records, in order to draw attention to the decisive attractiveness of these record series in general and, in particular, the Accra judicial and legal records to a generation inclined to both quantification and sociological analysis and to provide a guide to prospective users.

The headquarters of the national archives service, where the judicial and legal records are located, is situated on Castle Road in Accra near the junction with Barnes Road. The offices are open from 8:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. Monday to Friday. The search room functions between 9:00 a.m. and 4:00 p.m. The formal requirement for admission to use the archives materials is the searcher's ticket obtained from the Search Room Officer on the spot.

[This continues the comparison of texts of the English and Dutch versions of Bosman. For earlier instalments see History in Africa 2(1975), pp. 185-216; 3(1976), pp. 91-126; 4(1977), pp. 247-273; 5(1978), pp. 225-256. Procedural matters are discussed in the first instalment, to which the reader is referred.]