It has been argued that the conquest of disease, particularly malaria, preceded and facilitated the spread of the European empires in Africa. The French experience shows the contrary. Even into the twentieth century surprisingly little use was made of quinine; death rates from malaria remained high. Yet the French empire expanded steadily. As the empire expanded, more and more use was made of indigenous troops. Africans recruited within the conquered territories were sent to conquer new territories. As the number of European combatants fell, so did the European death rate. Then, once the colonies were subjugated, communications and living conditions improved, making life healthier for Euopeans. The lowering of the death rate must therefore be ascribed to the expansion of the French empire rather than to the achievements of medical science.

This article explores the transnational politics of technology and science at the Rössing uranium mine in Namibia. During the 1980s, Rössing workers refashioned surveillance technologies into methods for trade union action. When national independence in 1990 failed to produce radical ruptures in the workplace, union leaders engaged in technopolitical strategies of extraversion, and became knowledge producers about their own exposure to workplace contaminants. Appeals to outside scientific authority carried the political promise of international accountability. But engaging in science meant accepting its boundaries, and workers ultimately discovered that technopolitical power could be limiting as well as liberating.

This paper discusses the history of the beef cattle industry in Southern Rhodesia between 1890 and 1938, but does so within the context of the world meat trade in order to examine the relationship between local and international capital. While certain entrepreneurs early recognized Southern Rhodesia as a potentially valuable beef cattle country, full realization of this hinged on breaking into the world meat market dominated by a few large cold storage companies, drawing on production based mainly in Argentina. Throughout these years, Southern Rhodesia faced at best indifference or at worst occasional outright hostility from such companies in its attempts to secure a place in the world market. Only Liebigs, who were primarily involved in meat extract requiring low-grade cattle, could be induced to operate in Southern Rhodesia.

The meat industry in Southern Rhodesia enjoyed certain advantages: land was extensive and cheap, labour power was produced and reproduced outside the capitalist sector, and there were stocks of indigenous cattle which were seized or purchased cheaply. But the industry also suffered from lack of capital, inadequate transport, the poor beef qualities of indigenous cattle, and disease. Despite state assistance from an early date, most Rhodesian ranchers proved incapable of rearing quality cattle for the world market. Once co-operative attempts by local capital had failed to secure markets for Southern Rhodesian cattle, further state involvement was necessary. Its limited resources obliged the state to try and attract, or seek partnerships with, international capital. However, the big companies remained uninterested, and Southern Rhodesia was obliged to settle for the Imperial Cold Storage Company which, although of overwhelming importance in southern Africa, was insignificant on a world scale. Contradictions in the state–I.C.S. Company relationship surfaced fairly quickly and in 1938 the local Cold Storage Commission was established.

The aim of this article is to illustrate the process whereby certain Berber tribes during the eighth century A.D. substituted slaves from the Bilād al-Sūdān for Berber slaves from North Africa. From the outset, this conversion was influenced strongly, if not instigated, by Ibāḍī merchants until the slave trade became a predominantly Ibāḍī monopoly from the mid-eighth century onwards. The slave trade along the central Sudan route in particular provided the increase in the community's wealth and security, as well as the means for its establishment and expansion as a Muslim sect among diverse Berber tribes and, finally, as the origins for the subsequent, far-flung network of trans-Saharan trade.

The Mahdist uprising of 1905–6 was a revolutionary movement that attempted to overthrow British and French colonial rule, the aristocracy of the Sokoto Caliphate and the zarmakoy of Dosso. The Mahdist supporters of the revolt were disgruntled peasants, fugitive slaves and radical clerics who were hostile both to indigenous authorities and to the colonial regimes. There was no known support among aristocrats, wealthy merchants or the ‘ulama. Thus the revolt reflected strong divisions based on class and, as an extension, on ethnicity. The pan-colonial appeal of the movement and its class tensions highlight another important feature: revolutionary Mahdism differed from other forms of Mahdism that were common in the Sokoto Caliphate at the time of the colonial conquest. There appears to have been no connection with the Mahdists who were followers of Muhammad Ahmed of the Nilotic Sudan or with those who joined Sarkin Musulmi Attahiru I on his hijra of 1903.

The suppression of the revolt was important for three reasons. First, the British consolidated their alliance with the aristocracy of the Caliphate, while the French further strengthened their ties with the zarmakoy of Dosso and other indigenous rulers. The dangerous moment which Muslims might have seized to expel the Europeans quickly passed. Second, the brutality of the repression was a message to slave owners and slaves alike that the colonial regimes were committed to the continuation of slavery and opposed to any sudden emancipation of the slave population. Third, 1906 marked the end of revolutionary action against colonialism; the radical clerics were either killed or imprisoned. Other forms of Mahdism continued to haunt the colonial regimes, but without serious threat of a general rising.

The papers in this special issue of the Journal were originally presented to a conference held at the School of Oriental and African Studies under the joint auspices of the School and the British Social Science Research Council, in September 1981. The conference, which grew out of an earlier series of seminars run by the S.O.A.S. History Department, arose out of the editors' concern that the history of the family, which had become so lively and important an area of study in Europe and America since the 1960s, was being almost totally neglected in Africa; through the seminars, the conference and now the publication of a selection of the papers in the Journal we hoped to stimulate research on a range of questions which could be fruitfully explored in the African context, and which could possibly also feed into the wider historiography on the family in Britain, America and Europe.

For many of its formative years, the study of history was concerned in the main with the history of the dominant, of ‘great men’ and their institutions, states and government, armies, churches and culture. The history of the dominated, of ‘ordinary people’ was thought to be lost, for the majority of our ancestors left no obvious written record from which their lives could be re-created. From 1929, when Marc Bloch and Lucien Febvre founded the journal Annales d'histoire économique et sociale, this view has been increasingly challenged, and it is fair to say that today the past of ordinary people is at least as significant historiographically as that of famous leaders or powerful institutions.

This paper builds upon the author's previously published work on the forest kingdom of Asante (Ghana). It deals generally with the issue of death in Asante history and culture, and more specifically with the meanings of the mortuary rituals surrounding the deaths of Asantehenes. These issues are addressed in relation to the extensive anthropological literature concerning the cross-cultural meaning of death. The paper then concentrates on an analysis of the meaning of the very fully documented events that surrounded the death and interment of the Asantehene Kwaku Dua Panin in 1867. These are analysed in relation to cultural norms and historical practices, and the conclusion sets out to locate the meaning of the Asantehene Kwaku Dua Panin's death within the broader framework of Asante historical experience.

The origins of the Kambarin Beriberi and their conscious development of a corporate identity provides a valuable insight into the emergence of a Muslim mercantile class in the northern savanna region of Africa. Theoretical studies by Abner Cohen and others have drawn attention to the maintenance of economic and social diasporas which have permitted the creation of commercial monopolies, but the explanation that these diasporas have been ‘ethnic’ organizations has obscured a fundamental feature of their historical development. Not all Hausa have participated in the kola trade, nor have the majority of professional merchants resided along the commercial avenues outside of the Hausa homeland. As the case of the Kambarin Beriberi well documents, the origins of many traders who became identified as Hausa were as immigrants from other parts of Africa, and any understanding of the formation of commercial diasporas must consider the possible distinction between the various components of a trading system. Only then can a fuller understanding of the interaction between the different commercial segments be reached. The diasporas which Cohen has documented for the Hausa, and which others have analysed for the several Mande networks, represent but one level of commercial cooperation in the continental trade patterns of Africa. The fusion of such disparate groups as the Kambarin Beriberi and other Hausa merchants into a confederation of traders with common interests remains an important aspect of commercial development which has not been fully explored.

This article examines the changing function of the Nyasaland police force between the 1890s and 1962. Initially, the police consisted of small groups of armed ex-soldiers, totally untrained in conventional police duties and employed by district officers in pressing labour and enforcing the payment of hut tax. In 1920, however, the authorities responded to the threat seemingly posed by the emergence of ‘dangerous classes’ – particularly labour migrants returned from the south – by forming a trained, centralized force, commanded in the Shire Highlands, though not elsewhere, by European police-officers. In the reorganized districts the police succeeded in protecting urban property. But so limited was the size of the force that the prevention and detection of crime was hardly attempted over the greater part of the country, while campaigns such as that against the Mchape witchcraft eradication movement foundered in the face of popular opposition.

Substantial changes began in the mid-1940s in response to urbanization and the increasing complexity of police duties, coming to a climax in the 1950s as the colonial government struggled to maintain authority. At first the emphasis was on raising educational standards and improving conditions of service. But following the crisis of 1953, it switched to expanding police numbers and increasing the coercive power of the force; this process was accelerated in the aftermath of the 1959 emergency.

Recruitment policies were influenced by the technical requirements of the authorities and by the ethnic stereotypes they evolved – a combination which resulted in the recruitment of a disproportionate number of Yao policemen in the first few decades and of more Lomwe and Chewa later. Policemen were attracted less by the rates of pay than by the privileges on offer. An inner corps of policemen spent their lives upholding colonial authority, but most could not be placed in a distinctive category of ‘collaborator’.

This article, which is in two parts, seeks to establish expatriate business history as a necessary and important part of modern African history. Part I surveys some fifty histories of European companies in West, Central and East Africa during the colonial period, and draws attention to opportunities for research on newly-discovered or little known records. Part II will assess the scholarly quality of the studies listed here, and will formulate some propositions regarding the spatial and temporal evolution of the European firms, their organization and policies, and their profitability.

This paper, building on the evidence of Bantu words for sheep, develops the hypothesis that livestock-keeping was introduced to southern Africa by people speaking Central Sudanic languages. It is suggested in particular that livestock may have been spread south from western Tanzania, one branch dispersing directly to southern Africa and another eastward to the Indian Ocean seaboard. It should be possible to test this hypothesis further as our knowledge of the languages involved, especially the Central Sudanic languages, grows.

LE 31 Décembre 1957, paraissait au Journal Officiel de la Guinée Française, un arrêté signé de Keïta Fodéba, Ministre de l'Intérieur du gouvernement de la ‘;loi-cadre’, portant suppression sur le territoire de la Guinée de la ‘chefferie dite coutumière’. Nul ne conteste que, sans la suppression de la chefferie, le succès du ‘Non’ en Guinée, lors du référendum constitutionnel du 28 septembre 1958 n'eût pas été assuré. Quelques semaines après le référendum, M. Jacques Rabemananjara (aujourd'hui ministre du gouvernement de Madagascar), préfaçant le volume qui publiait le compte rendu de la ‘Conférence des Commandants de cercle’, tenue à Conakry les 25–26 juillet 1957, écrivait:

L'un des bastions du régime [colonial], son artillerie lourde, celle qu'il n'engage que dans les circonstances graves, s'appelle la féodalité africaine.

The Ounce as a unit in the West African trade was originally applied to the goods which could be exchanged on the Gold Coast for one ounce of gold; it was generally reckoned that such goods would cost about 40s. in Europe, or half the European value of the gold. Calculations based on actual transactions show that the prime cost of an Ounce of goods was sometimes lower than this, when a favourable assortment of goods had been chosen. In the 1760's and 1770's gold was no longer being exported from the Gold Coast, but was demanded as part of the price of slaves; an ounce of gold was then valued at two Ounces of trade goods. The price of gold had risen, partly owing to a local stoppage of trade, and perhaps also because of a permanent change in the direction of Ashanti gold exports.

At Whydah, the Ounce was not in use in the first half of the eighteenth century; values of goods, including cowries, the local currency, were expressed in terms of the quantity equivalent to one slave. By 1772 the Ounce had come into use at a value similar to that on the Gold Coast. The French selling cheap brandy, and the Portuguese selling cheap Brazilian tobacco, were able to operate at very low costs per Ounce.

The ‘slave-price’ rigsdaler of Christiansborg, with regular exchange rates both with gold and with cowries, forms a link between the Gold and Slave Coast systems.

A table of slave prices at various dates during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries is given in terms of Ounces and other units.

Mauritius's unusual welfare state dates back to the introduction of non-contributory old-age pensions in 1950. This article examines the origins of this reform, focusing on the interactions between political actors in both Mauritius (local planters, political activists, and the colonial government) and London (the Colonial Office and Labour Party). Faced with riots among unorganised sugar estate workers in 1937, the colonial administration considered welfare reforms as part of a package intended to substitute for political change. The nascent Mauritian Labour Party used its links to the British Labour Party to apply additional pressure on the Colonial Office and, hence, the Governor in Mauritius. Welfare reform was stalled, however, by resistance from, initially, the governor and, later, the Colonial Office. It took partial democratisation in 1948 to push the local administration towards reluctant reform. The choice of tax-financed old-age pensions reflected the combination of a small and open economy, the absence of surplus land, poorly organised workers, and an effective state.

In 1941, Prime Minister Godfrey Huggins of Southern Rhodesia presented a prescription for his colony's survival under white stewardship. ‘It is essential for the preservation of the European civilization,’ he wrote, ‘that the African should be advanced’. A decade later, the variables in this explicitly racial equation had been fleshed out, and black Southern Rhodesians were subjected to a revised and actively interventionist regime of governance – a regime that we would immediately recognize today as one of ‘development’. As such, it had much in common with the forms and strategies through which ‘development’ was pursued elsewhere in the late colonial world: its local theorists sought justification in the sciences of nature and society, while its political apologists claimed to be twinning moral uplift with the material improvement of those ‘natives’ supposedly entrusted to their civilized care.

This article explores the ways in which French colonial authorities met the life and death challenge represented by the re-emergence of yellow fever epidemics in Saint-Louis-du-Sénégal at a time when physicians knew very little about the etiology, diagnosis, transmission and treatment of most infectious and parasitic diseases. The discussion focuses on changing strategies and policies designed to address yellow fever threats, the attitudes and priorities of the authorities, the limits of ‘colonial medicine’ and the responses of people affected by sanitary measures. The article argues that because of the ignorance of the etiology and epidemiology of yellow fever, policies were misdirected and did not achieve their primary goals. Even after the introduction of germ theory, the gap between medical thinking and practice persisted for another decade. The African urban working class and underclass were the first victims of this state of affairs. The article also examines the conflict between the interests of public health, commerce and privacy rights.

A revised estimate of the value of trans-Saharan trade in the nineteenth century suggests that, so far from declining, the caravan traffic between North Africa and the Western Sudan increased before the period of colonial partition. Evidence for this revision comes from French diplomatic and geographical missions in the 1850's and 1860's and from the Tripoli and Moroccan consulate records. In round figures the import of European goods across the desert routes and the export of ivory, ostrich plumes, gold dust and lesser items was probably not less than £1,500,000 in 1875—a peak year, after which there was a slow decline, as various factors, including recession in the European markets and the political conquest of Western Sudan, interrupted trade. The prices for European goods and Sudan produce in the early 1860's illustrate the differentials which enabled African traders to make their profit.

The history of the Black Volta region in what is currently south-west Burkina Faso and north-west Ghana has been marked by the agricultural expansion of Dagara-speaking groups. This article explores how and why these groups were able to expand at the expense of neighbouring segmentary societies such as the Phuo and the Sisala. Violence certainly played a role in their territorial expansion, but so did specific strategies of ritual appropriation of new territories. The Dagara system, with its characteristic fission of existing earth shrines and networks of interlinked shrines, allowed mobility and helped the migrants bring new territories under their ritual control. In addition, patriclans and matriclans as well as joking relationships, clan alliances and institutionalized friendship enabled the Dagara pioneers to recruit many new settlers within a short time. This was a crucial asset for the security of the newly founded settlements and the territorial encroachment on Phuo and Sisala lands. In addition, mobility was, and continues to be, supported by an explicit ethos of independence and autonomy. Focusing on the late pre-colonial periods, the article looks at different stages of Dagara expansion and the changing interethnic relations.

A critical examination of the forces behind Igbo acceptance of Christianity during the first decade of this century reveals that British military imperialism and other forms of colonial exploitation were in fact basic to the decision of many Igbo communities to embrace Christianity. The adoption of the Christian religion, especially by the male adults, may be seen as a clear method of adjusting to the new colonial regime in which Christianity offered visible social advantages. Communities which embraced the new religion believed that by associating with the Christian missionaries, they would perhaps escape various forms of colonial over-rule.

The expansion of British political authority in the Igbo country, therefore, widened the frontiers of missionary enterprise. And as the Christian missions found the Igbos remarkably receptive to missionary propaganda, each was more than anxious to exert its denominational influence on the people. Thus interdenominational rivalry, especially between the Roman Catholics and the Protestants, was acute. For various reasons, the Roman Catholic missionaries seem to have established a more preponderating influence than the other Protestant societies.

Late in 1907 a missionary from Kisserawe in German East Africa complained of a spate of ngoma ritual dances among the Zaramo people. In particular he singled out an ngoma conducted by women to ameliorate a drought that was threatening that year's maize crop. As the women danced around a well, dressed as men and brandishing muskets, they appealed for rain from ‘their god’. Several aspects of this ngoma make it remarkable. It occurred following the Majimaji uprising in German East Africa, which the Germans put down with such violence as to make war as a tactic of resistance unpopular if not untenable. The ngoma was attended by Christian and non-Christian African women alike, suggesting a purpose whose expediency cut across competing belief systems. Finally, although cross-dressing was an aspect of certain Zaramo rituals, the symbolic appropriation of men's social roles by dress and wielding of weapons made this ngoma anomalous and suggests that the participants were consciously and purposefully reshaping gender roles at this time. The timing and symbolism of the ngoma make it clear that it was a reaction to the threat of famine, which had become a recurrent aspect of Zaramo life by 1907 and a symptom of ongoing rural social change ushered in by colonial rule. The larger question is whether changing perceptions of gender roles intersected with the Majimaji war (1905–7), and whether Majimaji had an underlying meaning for rural Tanzanian societies that has escaped the attention of historians. If so, it suggests that the prevailing conception of Majimaji needs to be questioned and re-examined.